#but jesus the amount of white people who could not care less about a fucking genocide happening Right Now

[stellacadente]

if you ever feel stupid just think of this one store clerk i met in dublin who i was chatting with, saying i'm a tourist from italy, to which they said they once went to a concert of a spanish artist and there were many people with italian flags. then they looked at my necklace and asked "oh? that's the italian flag right?" . it's the palestinian flag ...

[crazyw3irdo]

okay so i mentioned i have a ramble in the tags and here it is

so i know most of my followers showed up because i made funny batman post but i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: i don’t actually know That Much about dc, yknow? i know more than the average person, i know as much as an average casual comics enjoyer, and i know way less than people who love comics.

and in regards to that all my favorite characters are the Silly ones! i love the riddler* because the idea of riddle-themed crime is hilarious & i love a character who thinks they’re way better than you- conversely, talia al ghul always seemed like much more of a Serious character.

all that to say: i don’t know much about talia al ghul. i know she’s ra’s al ghul’s daughter, sometimes bruce’s lover, and damian’s mother. i know she’s an assassin & she trained damian to also be one. i know that the level of consent that went into damian’s conception varies wildly depending on the author.

and all that to say, i wanted to do some research on her before i drew her! all i know about her really is her job & her relationship to some men, maybe there’d be a hidden gem i could find that’d make some cool art!

chat. people. gamers. folks. what have you.

talia al ghul might be one of the most underutilized and worst represented characters ever

getting the obvious out of the way: she’s mixed arabic and chinese, and the amount of whitewashing i found when trying to find a design to base the art** on was disappointing but honestly not surprising for comics. (why the fuck is she blonde in the arkham games jesus christ)

but also just… i think almost every stereotype for a female character- especially one of color- is used with her by both canon and the fandoms. as i mentioned before a lot of people (including me, i will admit that) simply reduce her to her relationships with male characters. when researching i found people discussing one of her conflicts being between her loyalty to her father versus her loyalty to bruce- quite literally just making her have to choose between allegiance to two men***

personality-wise… it just seems like people taking swings and then overcompensating hard in the other direction over and over again

she’s a femme fatale, and while that trope isn’t necessarily a bad thing, women of color are often sexualized far more than their white counterparts.**** she’s an assassin, reduced to nothing more than a killer. she’s a bitch, so don’t worry about her or motivations, or her feelings, or anything. hell, let’s retcon it so she raped batman, that shows even more how evil she is - she seduces you with her wicked ways and betrays you, that’s just like women, isn’t it? so tempting but then when you get with them they’re all fussy, those fucking-

woah woah, that’s too much isn’t it? no, no, we can’t forget she’s a mother! no, she cares about her kid, yknow? the original story was that she and bruce briefly married, that’s how damian exists- she had a nice romance and a good kid! she loves her kid! she’s a mother! she’s nice! she’s kind! she cares! she nurtures! she’s a mother! she doesn’t like bruce because he’s always putting her kid in danger-

but wait, she’s the one who trained damian to be an assassin, wasn’t she? that’s not very motherly of her is it… not quite bitch behavior either- ah! got it! she’s a girlboss! she’s cool, look at her posing dramatically with this sword! she took bruce’s DNA and then made damian from that, isn’t that cool? her combat is second to none! man, she’s awesome, yknow? hm? what’s she like? well, she’s cool! huh? that’s not a personality trait? …what do you mean? of course it is! i mean, i guess if you want more, she kills people, so i guess that’s pretty mean. man, i hate when female characters are mean, that stupid bitch-

i don’t know much about talia al ghul. i don’t know if i could know much about her without doing some incredible deep dives and searching through various depictions of the most stock personality traits for women. she could be a really cool character . she’s the daughter of one of batman’s most iconic villains! she’s not always a bad guy- i mean she had a kid with batman- however the hell that happened- and she’s… her core character is just defined by the men in her life, huh?

talia al ghul deserves better

*but that’s also why i didn’t like the batman (2022)’s riddler because he was too serious, yknow? put that guy in a bright green suit covered in question marks then we’ll talk.

**i ended up basing it on what she’s wearing in a story from batman: urban legends volume 6, partially because i actually own that volume & im biased

***i am not educated enough on this specific subject to say this definitively, but from my personal observations, i think this specific version of this trope (choosing between a father vs an often white lover rather than, say, two different lovers or what have you) is much more common with women of color. if that’s true (and even if it isn’t and it’s just in this case) it feels rooted in racism- with the father representing “tradition (i.e. the culture the woman is from)” and the lover representing “modern (i.e. white, often american) things.” this trope casts the father as someone resistant to change who’s refusal to adapt to “modern” sensibilities means that he’s often vilified in these stories.

****i know i’m talking about a comic book character here, and women in these stories are often ridiculously sexualized already regardless of ethnicity, and that she would likely still be a sexual character even if she was white, but we cannot ignore the fact she’s not. if i made a character that was a deranged creep that stalks women, that’s one thing, but if i made that character a trans woman, it’s suddenly much worse. stereotypes like that may not necessarily be intentional, but they are important to notice and take into account both as a creator and as an audience.

here’s the first sketch i did of her when i was trying to figure out her design btw. honestly i like it more than the one i did for the actual one but it’s just her standing there & i wanted it to relate a bit more to the song if i could

14, Talia al Ghul if you're still taking requests!

Never trust in yourself or anyone else / We've always all been wrong / And we built these walls strong - The Song With Five Names - Will Wood

send a character + number & i'll draw them w/ the corresponding number on my spotify wrapped :3

[stickynotestoletters]

Izuku x Male Reader Smut

I'm a dirty slut, so .... yeah

Women DNI please :3

Warnings: you push friend boundaries in the fic but Izuku likes it so it's fine, bottom reader, top izuku, buff tan izuku, big tiddy izuku, God kink apparently, degradation, he calls you puppy, a bit of simp Izuku, breeding kink

Izuku wasn't a simp, okay? He was kind, he was courteous and pleasant to be around! But he always had boundaries with his friends and loved ones. Well....until he met you.

You see, Izuku had a not-so-obvious crush on you (shut it Bakugou). Ever since he met you at UA he kind of let you push any and all boundaries that he had put in place with his friends.

Now don't get the wrong idea! At first, when you both met in your first year at UA it was just little stuff! Like, using his clothes or borrowing a pillow. I mean that's what friends are for right? At least that’s what you told him.

He thought maybe he just needed to chill out and let loose his rules a bit. So you were a little friendlier about how you acted around him as opposed to your other friends, so what?

He could make an exception this once and that would be it!

But then you started getting even more comfortable.

And it was good! He was happy you were comfortable around him! It made his heart fly!

You were being a little touchier with him and it was just friendly stuff. Laying your head on his shoulder and in his lap or even just stroking his hair while you cuddle, but that's fine!

He likes it, he always has and always will!

You ask permission the first time you do these things and how could he resist sitting in the arms of a gorgeous man like you?

Then it stays that way for a while a little after UA.

You get a little bold every once in a while after that but it's nothing he can't handle.

He's working out and doing hero work so he has more things to focus on than his not so little crush anymore.

Even if he stays up at night thinking about all those touches. Thinking about your chapped lips and smooth skin beneath his hands. Thinking about your hands and how much he likes them. Likes them in his hair, massaging his shoulders. How much more he would like them if you tangled them in his hair and pull on it as he's fucking you into his mattress. How much he'd then like it for you to yell and scream his name as he absolutely pounds you into his sheets. How much he wants you to cry and scream his name until the neighbors bring noise complaints and you have a sore throat the next day from it.

So yeah. He doesn't have the time.

Until one night you show up to his door. It's late, almost 4 in the morning, about 2 hours after he comes home from his agency, and he just hears these little knocks on the door. He thinks it's the rain at first until he gets a text from you asking him if he's up and if you could come in.

He's almost dressed and ready for bed but for you, he'd sacrifice any amount of sleep to make sure you're okay at any time of the night.

He opens his door to find you drenched from the rain. And he means soaked. You're shivering in these nice little skinny jeans and a white T-shirt. You're sobbing and your hair is spilling water onto his doormat. "Hey Izuku, is it-is it okay if I come in?"

He can hear just how congested you are, it seems like you've been crying for a while. "Yeah, just let me-let me get you a towel, are you okay?" You start sobbing in front of him and he gives you the towel as he comes back."Never mind, that was obviously a stupid question, come on in and go get a shower."

You're nice and warm by the time you come back to the kitchen, he's made you shower and given you some food. So now you two sit down on his couch and he holds you close to him. he's not saying anything and neither are you, but you know he wants you to talk about it."So, I kinda had a breakdown about some relationship stuff right now." You guys laughed at the obviousness of it.

"Did you want to talk about it?" He looks at you laying down on his chest, tangling your legs with his, in his shirt, in his pants. God he wished you would-

"Kinda, I don't have to if you don't want me to." He shook his head to the sides and you sighed deeply," I knew you would say that, okay, it's kinda embarrassing if I'm being honest."

He laughed at you, "Nothing could be more awkward and embarrassing for me to listen to than when you told me, in detail, about your crush on Bakugou." You contorted your face in distaste at him and he just kept laughing.

"Bakugou is hot and I stand by all that I said asshole." You shook your head. "But I was very embarrassing."

It got quiet again and you put your face in the crook of his neck. "So, I figured out that I ....fuck okay so...." You move back to face him and stare at him in the eyes. "Don't laugh but I realized I only want a sexual relationship with someone at the moment. I started crying because I felt like I'd been lying to myself and I've just been under a lot of stress lately." Your blush is not less bright than his at all and he can't do anything but avoid your pretty little face looking at him than to push you into his chest and look up at his wonderfully beautiful ceiling he's never had the time to admire before this.

"You could have said that to me without the weird eye contact but whatever, go on."

You laugh hysterically, a little high on your emotions, "Okay hear me out. I'm a hero right? And using a loved one as leverage is a very classic villain plan. So I thought that was why I didn't want a relationship. Now I figured out it's just the stress! I want something like that eventually but right now? I just want something with someone to destress."

You move your head up to look at him and he moves his hand away from the back of your head, his emotions are going haywire right now. What is he supposed to say to that??? Do you want him to find someone for you to hook up with or???? And then he realizes-"I am not setting you up with Bakugou-"

"-OH MY GOD SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY IT WAS A ONE-TIME THING." You shake your head and laugh incredulously at him. "I'm allowed to be attracted to people who aren't good for me okay? Is it really that bad?" Izuku rolls his eyes at you, "Yes. Yes, it is."

You roll your eyes back at him," Whatever that's not what I wanted to ask anyway." you scooch up onto his chest a bit more and put your hands under your chin as you look into his eye with your best pleading face." Would you do me the honor of being my destresser?"

He could explode right now.

Like seriously what?

".....You want me to what now???"

"Would you rather I phrase it differently?"

"To make sure we're on the same page yes-"

"Fuck the stress out of me buff man."

"Jesus Christ." He practically lifts you off of him like a doll,"If you were going to prank me like this," he sets you onto his couch and walks to his bathroom to go wash the heat off his face, "do it over text next time."

You follow him into the bathroom," It's not a prank! I'm for real okay? Look-" he looks puts his head further near the sink, he doesn't want you to see his red face,"-the way I see it is we're both busy as fuck. We both are mature adults looking for something intimate, which you have not found yet may I add, that could both put someone in danger otherwise." He scrubs his face and takes a deep breath, turning his water off and looking at you calmly.

"Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, why me then?" He knows he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but he's not going to do this if it's just for the fun. He wants to actually mean something to you other than someone to fuck. "You could have chosen any one of our other friends. So why me?"

You grab his hands and lift them to your lips,"Izuku, I care about you so much. You're one of my closest and best friends in the entire world and I am so lucky to have you. You have supported me in any way you possibly could, and I hope that I've done the same for you. So I want us to support each other as much as we need in this." You look him in the eyes," Plus you could snap me in half and are one of the only people I could fight that has the stamina to keep going at me."

".....you're so fucking lucky I like you. Fine! Okay fine."

"YES!"

So for the rest of the night(morning?), you two plan out how this is going to work. Rules, boundaries, kinks (by god he's going to need a break), and what times you guy can and can't.

It works well actually. Better than Izuku expected. He's just ecstatic he gets to finally hold you.......until he doesn't.

Now Izuku knows you two discussed boundaries and the fact you can call each other practically any time but for the next week, he seriously couldn't get the mind power to just swallow his fears and call you up. Not to say he wasn't thinking of you, by god he did that every single day even more since then, he just didn't want to bother you.

But then you called him. It was 11 pm and you were very horny. He picked up the phone and immediately just, "Hello?"

"I need you to plow me into my mattress it's been a week, come over as soon as you can, I'll be waiting sir-"

And that was the end of the call. Your house is like 20 minutes away from his but he somehow made it there in 10. He didn't even text you he was coming, so you thought he was busy.

So you were just on your couch, scrolling on your phone until a rushed knock at the door, you opened it, and were immediately kissed on the mouth.

Just a whole ass surprise makeout, he holds you up in his arms and pushes you against the door. You pull away to breathe and just look down to see this large monster of a man pressing his massive chest to yours, heaving so out of breath like he'd just ran a marathon (he practically did). Just staring up at you so desperately, you're not going to lie it was a nice view. You laugh a bit hysterically as he kisses you repeatedly. Then he works his way to your neck, still holding you up with his arms but fondling your chest and ribcage. He nips your neck and sucks so hard you're sure to have some nice little hickies in the morning. You moan as he pulls on your nipples and rubs your pecs in his hands.

Your mind goes fuzzy as you hear him whisper, "Dirty little slut left me with nothing after your little call. Think it was funny?" He kisses your neck again, licking down to your collar bone, "Think it's funny to leave me with nothing? Just the thought of this dirty little pup begging me to come over?"

You moan into a laugh at the fact he seems more desperate for this than you are. "Laughing now are we?" You immediately quiet down, his hands travel to your waist, and grinds his leg into your crotch.

"Oh gods-" He pushes into you again as you moan,"-f-fuck!"

"Damn puppy. Didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth. Why don't you show me how you use that little mouth when I actually get started with you."

He takes you into your bedroom, pressing your hard dick against his own and sucking on your neck even more.

You pant heavily onto his shoulder shaking from anticipation as he brings you into your room.

He pushes you down on the bed into a folded missionary position. You're hazy and in hysterics, as he talks more, "God, look at you! What a fucking slut for me. Come on puppy look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."

You look up and his smile is devious. It's alluring. He's practically ravishing you with his eyes. He’s taking your clothes off and feeling you up, “Your tastey skin, so smooth and soft. Do you know what I’m gonna do to it puppy?” Your head is swimming with full unbridled warmth and lust, you can’t even respond so he takes your face in his hands and makes you look at him,” I’m gonna mark you up so well, give you all the hickies and bites I want to put on you until you’re barely unbruised. How does that sound?”

You yell out, “Yes! YES! Puppy will be good for you please? Want it so bad.” He laughs at your responses, leaving your naked body vibrating on the bed and he moves away to take his own clothes off. His toned muscles flexing without meaning to as he takes his shirt and pants off of himself. Sliding his boxers down his toned calfs.

You stay laying there, letting out hysteric laughs and panting as he stretches you out with his fingers. And he keeps his promise, biting and niping all over your thights and stomach. You fall from your hysterical high as he pulls his mouth away until he takes your dick in his mouth and you’re pushed all the way back up the hill, arching your back and crying out for him as you grab the head board.

God you haven’t been so sensitive since you don’t even remember when. He’s sucking you off and his fingers are reaching just the right spots in you. Sliding onto his fingers down to the knuckle of his pointer and middle finger, flexing and massaging just the right spot, just until he takes a deep breathe. Then he takes all of you into his mouth and presses down on your most sensitive spot,” OH GOD, FUCK! Yes~ IZUKU PLEASE, I’M CUMMING!”

You cream into his mouth so hard. He pulls himself up off the mattress and off your dick once he finished sucking it all out of you. He licks the rest off his lips and hums in delight,” You taste better then I’ve ever imagined.” Ah, you blush so red as he said this. You think to yourself, he was just saying it for dramatic effect. For the moment! It couldn’t possibly be true....

God if only you knew how true that is from him.

He pulls some of the excess cum off your dick and you shiver a bit at his fingers grazing your tip. His magic hands. And he brings them to lube his dick back up,” Gonna fill my puppy with their own cum, how about it, slut?”

His eyes are crazy, this is a whole new side of Izuku you’ve never seen from him. And by the gods above are you excited to see it.

He presses your legs down so they’re almost flat by your arms and climbs up halfway atop your thighs. He slides himself into you and,” f-f-UCK!” He’s fucking huge.

Your partners have been quite average in the past. Nothing to scoff at but not as big as Izuku. You feel lightheaded as he pushes himself all the way in. “Look at you, my pathetic little puppy, breaking on my dick. Not even halfway there pup, but I’ll be nice this time.” He stops and you thank god and curse at him as well. You feel like you’re gonna be ripped apart yet you still crave so much more.

He gives you a second to catch your breathe, then he leans over, presses your legs farther, and starts pounding into your pretty little hole. Absolutely destroying your insides. You’re crying and whimpering and all it does is drive him to go faster and harder. To milk all those pretty little sounds out of your pretty little mouth. You’re crying on his dick and it fuels his ego,” You’re crying already? God look at you, so pretty and stupid on my dick. Such a good useless pup. Never had dick this good. Are you seeing god or something pup?”

His smirk is returned with teary eyes looking up at him, drooling at him,” Ye-ugh fUck-yes God, love your dick so much.” Oh fuck. That’s new.

It was so hot, imagining you praying and worshipping “your God’s” dick. Izuku being rode by you as you cry out for your God.

He laughs hard and leans down to get a better grip on the sheets, stopping for a moment, and then pounding you into the mattress. It felt like he was trying to hammer you down into the mattress to press you hard enough you’d become one with it. “That’s right baby! Ahaha! You feel so good I’m your god? My little puppy’s so dumb on their god’s dick right?”

You cry out to him, repeating over and over,” God! My God! Please god!” And you cum hard, over and over on his dick for the rest of the night. Orgasming and being fucked through your over sensitivity again and again and again until dawn. He finally gives in after getting his fill of filling you up.

God, he was definitely the right one to go to.

And all Izuku could think about you as he cleaned up and got ready to go to sleep with you was how fucking thankful he was you broke all his boundries for him. And accepting the fact that yes, he is the biggest simp for you.

————

-Laika

[painless-innit-colourful]

Invisible

Potions of invisibility grant the user the ability to disappear, functionally: the concealment of one’s self through magic, distilled into a draught easy to swallow. For better and worse, Tommy’s familiar with the taste.

It tastes sour, primarily. 

Looking at the ingredient list, no wonder. Nether wart and fermented spider eye. Gross. There are some things a golden carrot just can't balance out. 

It's such a disgusting taste he doesn't notice the shimmering feeling, instead focusing his attention on scraping a thin layer of translucent brown sugar-mushroom-spider ick off his tongue. Not until: 

"Tommy?" "Y- Bleh- Yeah?" "Oh!" Tubbo waves his arms in a wild arc, smile growing, before his hand collides with Tommy's arm, and he picks up Tommy's wrist. "It worked!" "What do you- Ohhh..." 

If he blurs his vision, Tubbo's fingers circle around nothing. If he looks properly, he can just about see the edges of his wrist, the lines of his shirt sleeve. "Dude, how does that work?" "Which bit?" "Clothes. My clothes didn't drink it too." "Dude, I dunno... My turn!" 

They learn to spot the tiny signs of an invisible person. They learn to disguise them. Tommy tries to tackle Tubbo and misses completely, and both of them fall about laughing. 

Call that a drug van success story. 

--- 

He sprints past it, hoping they aren’t following, panic filling his bloodstream. He chugs the potion as he runs, drops spilling down his front, staining his navy coat with off-white shadows as he shimmers and disappears into thin air. 

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

He stumbles into the shallow waters of the lake, wading - disturbing the water, too many signs, you're gonna be seen - towards Tubbo's tunnel. He takes three steps and slips under the surface, landing on his hands and knees on the tunnel floor, waiting, waiting- Where are they? 

There's the sound of an arrow seeking its mark and hitting true, and for a split second Tommy sees an arm with deft fingers and a dark blue sleeve fall over the side of the entrance, and then the body is gone and shit shit shit- 

Tommy sticks his head back out- Who was that? Wilbur? Tubbo? He feels the shimmering feeling again - "a quick escape", where are the others - and slowly drops back to the tunnel floor. 

Make a decision, what if they find you, Little Laddy One Life? He walks away, opting to live to fight another day, hoping that his friends will join him soon. 

--- 

Funnily though, while clothes disappear with the potion, armour doesn't. He doesn't know why; he's not smart enough to. And right now, as he yanks the shoulder straps of his chestplate tight, he doesn't really care. 

"Stop!" They don't stop, voices mostly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Dream, his face also hidden, but by his signature mask as opposed to the magic of an invisibility potion, holds his hand towards Tubbo and tells him "I need the disc." Tommy crests the wreckage of the Community House, no longer attempting to stay hidden as the water thunders down around his ankles, pulling him towards the platform in the centre. It's a bizarre version of the Pit. It’s an arena. It's a stage. 

"No!" He screams, as Tubbo takes half a step back towards the ender chest. Heads snap to his position, looking at the empty suit of armour that's just appeared beside and above them. Tubbo stutters something in quiet disbelief, and between that and the sudden attention, Tommy falters. If he took off his armour now, could he get out of there? Or would the same fate that once befell Wilbur catch him? The blame for this building is on him, after all. 

He jumps in, landing on his feet between Dream and the cabinet of L'Manberg. He is caught in the crossfire of their questions: "Tommy?" "Is that Tommy?" 

He shouts, and he screams, and he revolves like a merry-go-round, trying to keep his eyes on everyone, not trusting that his armour'll be enough to protect him from the sheer amount of enemies about. So many people hate him, he realises, it's 30 v 2. Technoblade would like those odds. Technoblade, who's standing beside him, not invisible because he went to get milk. He likes the protection; he thinks. 

They don't listen. Tubbo keeps insisting he betrayed them all by teaming with Techno, that he betrayed L'Manberg, but they don't understand, he didn't have a choice, "You don't know what he did to me in exile." Tubbo has the disc in his hands, and without having an inkling of where Dream's eyes are, he watches him consider simply snatching it from Tubbo's hands. 

"You're not gonna give him the disc." Tubbo looks at him like it's a dare, and why can't he see? Tommy's practically crying with the effort and exertion of watching his best friend betray him in slow motion, of being this close to his abuser, of being blamed for something he didn't do, of being beaten down every time he gets on his damn feet. 

"I don’t need to prove myself to you. This wasn’t me. Trust me. Jesus— for once in your life, Tubbo, trust me." Tubbo's eyes are cold, his mind made up. What happened to us against the world?  "I did trust you. Once. The first time all of this happened. And I won’t make the same mistake twice." 

There's a little moment where time stops, and everyone draws nearer like a crowd at the coliseum, and Tommy feels his invisibility ripple slightly, warning him it's about to wear off. Who the fuck cares. 

Tubbo takes a step towards Dream, and Tommy lunges to put himself between them. "Don't you dare." Tubbo's hand goes to his axe. "You betrayed me, Tubbo, you- Did you just-" Both of their eyes are on Tubbo’s weapon, when he puts the disc away, staring Tommy down plainly with his one hand returning to the axe at his waist, and the other taking out his shield. "I didn't betray you." His voice is level, all business. Okay then, Mr President.

"You betrayed everything that you'd built with presidents prior." Tommy's anger, and hurt, and frustration, and pain finally boils over, so much so that it's visible in the way he shakes as he brings out his axe. "You know what?" He bites into a golden apple, feeling its effects drown out the rushing water and the shimmering sensation of his invis. "You've got your axe up." Technoblade’s tone is surprised but light as he tells Tommy to make this decision wisely, but he’s already gone, his safety and conscience be damned. He throws himself at Tubbo, brandishing his axe as the pigman taught him, like he once practised with the brown-haired boy he’s swinging at, thinking You say I betrayed you? I'll show you a traitor. 

Poetically, perhaps, it's less like a fight, and more like a dance. They are a whirlwind - a hurricane - clashing and blocking and pushing and shoving across the otherwise empty floor. Somewhere in the gushing water, Technoblade's bloodlust has seized him, and he's gone for the L'Manbergians and the festival-goers and the unrelated parties that came when they saw the destruction, and he's scattering them this way and that, but who cares about that? 

They are not equally matched. Tommy shakes too much: there is too much of him vulnerable here, not just his mortality, something that neither invisibility nor armour can keep from being scratched and damaged. He's losing. He's quite badly losing, despite Tubbo's inferior armour and weapons and allies, and he leaps into the nearest watery wall, letting the Respiration helmet Techno made for him protect him as the water drags him under and away from his attacker. His best friend. He bites into another golden apple, his pleas swallowed by the torrent. He still hears Tubbo's shout though, permeating the water and being relayed through his communicator from wherever Techno is. 

"Where are you?" 

He pops back up, shaking and soaking wet and sees a familiar sight: an old friend, a brother - once - staring him down with death in his eyes from behind brown hair. He was wrong, oh so wrong, all those weeks ago: at once he is Schlatt, alone at the end of his days, and there's Wilbur, old pals who'll be the death of each other. No. 

No. 

"I didn’t betray you, you teamed up with the very person that destroyed us the first time!" He feels his invis shimmer one more time, and the timing is immaculate, really. Cinematic, one might say. 

"I went for the discs— Tubbo, the discs— The discs were worth more than you ever were!" "No... Wh- Th-" The world stands still, and it feels so good, it's so good to finally say it, to watch Tubbo's face fall, his shield slipping from his hand, listen to the reactions around their little arena, watch as Tubbo shuts his mouth and yanks on the strap of his chestplate and lets it drop to the floor, leaving him defenceless and open to attack and wait- no- wait- 

Mutely, Tommy’s gaze drifts skyward, and it should feel good because they know now, they know how he feels, but it's not, it's not good because that- that wasn't true. That wasn't right. 

And he looks back at Tubbo, and finally, finally, his invis runs out, and he hopes it shows on his face, that he knows he's fucked up because Tubbo looks destroyed, and a shiver goes through him because he no longer looks angry he just- He just looks sad. 

He takes off his helmet, breathing heavily from the ache and exertion, heart burning in regret. 

��The discs were worth more than you ever were.’

How do you fix that? For one crazy moment, he considers the invis again. Turning translucent and running, back to Techno- back to Technoblade who'd congratulate him on 'moving on' and tell Phil like he was proud and probably write that line on the fucking wall, how could he be such a monumental ass- 

"Tubbo?" Their eyes meet. Tubbo says nothing. 

"Give him the disc." 

He looks bewildered, "You want me to give Dream the disc?" He says, the tiniest sliver of something they used to have peeking through, the bearest hint of kindness, and bless him, it's more than Tommy deserves. It makes him want to go invisible again. 

He smiles softly, and it can't reach his eyes, but he pours every ounce of good left in him into it and desperately hopes it's enough.

"Yeah." And because he's fucked up, because he knows they can never go back from this: "I'm sorry Tubbo." 

--- 

He's done it again, he keeps fucking up. Sam's hand is holding him down by the shoulder, firm fingers digging into him, keeping him from reaching Ghostbur. 

He tried so hard. His throat is sore from not coughing. His muscles hurt from the pure tension and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, from his stubborn heart to the ends of his fingers and toes. He thought he'd gotten caught when he drank the potion in the waivers room, and his heart had been beating so loud that he'd thought Sam could hear it. 

Yet, they made it. But it doesn't matter, because he pulled out the axe too early, and now he's busted, and Sam's gonna kill him or Wilbur's going to come back or both, and it's all his fault. 

Every time he tries. Every time he tries to fix things, or do what's right, or have something for himself, it's taken away, destroyed and he's kicked to the ground. Every time. 

It's enough to make anyone want to be invisible.

[steveniskewl444]

yo yo this is my first post on the hellsite. so hello hi, my name is Steve (you can call me Steven tho), I am 18 (bodily 17), my pronouns are he/him (I’d prefer you just use my name, sometimes I just don’t feel like pronounce), I am arospec and homosexual with an exclusive attraction to men — based on their gender ofc, don’t care abt your down there — and enbies who are man-aligned or whatever. i don’t feel too much romantic fluff and am not into it, but i’m still positive about romance overall.

here are some of my stances, takes, some stuff abt me in general idk, to help you out in (not) interacting with this blog muahaha:

gays should have the exact amount of rights as straights, but preferably we should be liberated from shitty heternormative society

i hate cancel culture, but i love people being taken accountable. don’t police others for liking a “problematic” person, just point out if they’re a dick sucker.

i hate terminally online shit so much pls don’t bring your terminally online bullshit on this blog. YOU WILL BE IGNORED AND/OR BLOCKED.

people whose sexual action is being into children or into animals shouldn’t be here. you all make me throw up.

don’t come here if you unironically say “slayyyy” or “you ate 🤪” or any other white queer appropriation of AAVE every 5 seconds. you can say “slay” or any other AAVE phrase, but if your skin looks like milk and not like espresso coffee, then you’re on thin ice.

people who are like “umm bi lesbeans aren’t real 🥺🥺🥺” who gives a shit who gives a shit WHO GIVES A SHIT??? don’t come here if you’re like that.

people who are against the ocean turian/uranian flag (don’t care + didn’t ask + white + L + ratio) shouldn’t come here at all. i could give less of a fuck. uranians be damned, THE FACT WE HAVE FLAGS OF OUR OWN IS ENOUGH. SHUT UP ALREADY AND ADMIT THAT ENBIES CAN LIKE BLUE TOO, WHY DO YOU GENDER COLORS? or “nooo they stole it from lesbans 🥺🥺🥺” WHO GIVES A FUCK ?????!!!!??? ITS FINE TO TAKE INSPIRATION Y’ALL + THE POINT IS THAT THEY MATCH YOU BITCHES

i am, generally speaking, a leftist. I appreciate this whole idea of workers owning the means of production but not only. I also appreciate this one thing, it begins with an A, arachnids or something, idk. oh, anarchy!! that one!!! yeah, if you’re a hardcore ML, maybe this isn’t the place for you.

I am Christian so please don’t disrespect my religion. I am not practicing but I still believe in my Lord Jesus Christ, for only He can save me from this hellhole. i think he’s fine with homosexuals too, the Bible generally condemned pederasty (the totally not MAP act of older men having sex with younger twinks during the Ancient era, which ofc is a stupid as fuck practice!!!), NOT HOMOSEXUAL BEHAVIOR BETWEEN TWO CONSENTING ADULTS HOLY FUCK !!!! Plus if y’all don’t allow us to marry, am I supposed to forever not fuck a man?!?? (no sex before marriage y’all!!)

if you’re younger than, idk, the age of consent in most European countries, you shouldn’t be on this blog. I may post some… slightly NSFW stuff from time to time. (NOT an NSFW blog tho!!!!)

anyone who says “fiction doesn’t affect reality 🤓” or “fiction doesn’t affect reality 1:1 🤓” is a mindless zombie who can’t be critical of what they consume and tolerate the fucked up portrayal of… MAP behavior, of Catholic priest behavior, ya know, in a “haha this is good quirky soooo romantic woowww 🤪🤪🤪” way, and you shouldn’t even look at me in the eyes. yes, you know yourselves.

I LOVE MUSCULAR MEN!!!! I LOVE JACKED UP MEN WHO ARE MASCULINE JUST LIKE I AM!!!! I LOVE MEN WHOSE MUSCLES ARE HUGE!!!! I LOVE FIT MEN!!!! MEENNNNNNNNN!!!!!!

I love a bit of footy, a bit of pop music (ya know, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, that shit slaps and is not for effeminate twinks or white valley girls only), I love Kumalala especially, I uhh love linguistics, I love many things… except for love itself 😌.

Anyhow ahoy, i hope y’all will… tolerate me i guess. host calls me “problematic” and has beef with me, tell @anarchobasil they’re wrong whenever they shit talk abt me pls. When I say “probelmatic” stuff I am ironic 99.9% of the time. I am a very huge ally for everyone, don’t care. and uhhh that’s it????

[meteorrogers]

chocolate covered strawberries | r. d.

summary: a precious person like you was what had been missing in Ransom’s life. 

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: fluff only, language, implied smut maybe?, oh and beware of fucking soft!Ransom

word count: 3,479 (less or more)

a/n: well, i certainly didn’t expect it to be this long. anyway, this is a soft and ooc!Ransom fic, no spoilers because i follow practically nothing from the movie (at least i think). excuse my errors, please, and enjoy!!😊let me know what you think!!

Ransom is furious, driving home from another family gathering that couldn’t end any differently than with yelling, insults, and throwing things at each other. He has no idea why he‘s still going to these things, he always swears to himself that the next time will be the last time. Maybe somewhere deep inside of him, there’s still a sparkle of hope that one day he will have a normal conversation with his mom and dad.

He needs something to calm him down and while a drink and some bimbo he’d meet in a bar sound amazing, it is still early for that. On his way home, there is this bakery he‘s always liked to stop by because they have the best fresh-from-the-oven chocolate-filled croissants to ever exist. They are maybe even better than alcohol. Just maybe.

He leaves the coat in his car and heads towards the entrance. The bell above the door rings as he enters, taking his sunglasses off. The shop is quiet except for the soft chatter of the patrons that are occupying some of the seats. He doesn‘t even need to look at the display case with all the baked goods, he already knows what he’s having, so he heads directly to the counter to order.

After the cashier takes his order and disappears in the kitchen, Ransom slowly moves to the waiting counter where a young woman is chatting with the older man (Timmy, he thinks is his name) that owns the place together with his wife. The woman has a big genuine smile on her face and occasionally a beautiful laugh leaves her mouth when Timmy says something supposedly funny. Ransom has never seen her before. Maybe it’s not so early to charm his way into a woman’s bed after all. He gets closer and as Timmy hands her her order on a pink paper tray – two Halloween themed cupcakes, with white frosting, yellow and orange sprinkles and a little marzipan ghost sticking out – Ransom only hears their goodbyes.

You are still smiling, cheerful from the conversation you had with Timmy as you turn around, ready to leave, and enjoy the sweet treat on the way home. But you don‘t even have the time to react when you suddenly collide with a solid figure. You stumble a little, but strong hands on your shoulders steady you, which you don‘t even realize since your mind‘s only focus is on the mess you have caused. And just like that, your smile disappears.

“Oh my god,“ you gasp and your eyes widen as they scan the not-so-white-anymore cable-knit sweater covered in frosting and sprinkles. “Oh my god,” you repeat, a little louder this time. Panicking, you quickly dispose of the tray with crumbled cupcakes, taking an unnecessarily high number of napkins from the holder on the counter and trying your best to clean the beautiful cozy-looking piece of clothing.

You have yet to see the person’s face, either too embarrassed to look them in the eye or too concentrated on getting the crumbs out of the wool. Probably both.

“I am sorry.” You say, throwing the dirty napkins on the counter. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been looking where I was going. I was still so absorbed in the conversation that I didn’t notice you,” Oh, god, here comes the downpour of babbles… „And I didn’t even hear you come behind me or maybe I wasn’t paying attention, that’s prob–“

Your gibbering is interrupted by the stranger’s hand circling your wrist, also stopping your frantic movements.

“Would you calm down? It’s just a sweater. I can buy a new one.”

You finally look up, your eyes meeting ocean-blue ones with hints of green around the pupils. His voice sounded empty, emotionless and you aren‘t sure if he is upset or just doesn‘t care.

“Oh,” slipping your hand out of his hold, you break the eye contact, the situation too embarrassing for you. You look at the mess on the countertop, the paper tray still laying there, dirty napkins scattered across the surface and some of them even found their way to the ground.

Shaking your head, you grab all the garbage, bend down to pick up the ones on the floor and throw it into the trash can situated in the corner.

You turn back to the man, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Um… Can I at least pay the cleaning bill?”

“It’s fine, really.”

He still hasn’t cracked a smile.

“Well, let me buy you something sweet then. What’s your guilty pleasure?” you smile again and look over his shoulder, studying the selection of desserts.

“I said it’s alright,“ he bites. “Besides, I already ordered.”

You don‘t expect him to snap at you like that so it kind of shocks you. Better let sleeping dogs lie…

“Okay,” you nod. “I’m sorry again,” you stuff your hands in your coat pockets and head out.

Ransom stands there, looking at your leaving form and he sighs. Shit.

When you bumped into him, he was really pissed that you ruined his clothes at first, but then you started apologizing, cleaning him and rambling . That infuriated him even more. Why the hell did you even care? It wasn’t even your sweater!

You were annoyingly sweet, which Ransom isn‘t used to at all. Sure, women are nice to him, giving him that fake sugary smile just to get into his pants. He never complains, of course, it makes getting laid much easier when they’re trying to get his attention, not the other way around. But it was just an act. The smile you gave Timmy was genuine and so was the concern about his sweater. How was he supposed to react?

His thoughts are interrupted by the young employee who took his order, signalizing his croissant is ready. He takes it and turns to leave, his face still painted with… confusion?

“Fuck.” He curses silently. You can‘t be far. If he hurries, he can still catch up to you and… apologize? He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, except for one thing.

He faces the cashier again. “Hey, could you give me two of those Halloween cupcakes? With the ghosts. And wrap it up. Quickly,“ his voice is intimidating, arrogant and the boy doesn‘t have the balls to argue so he just does as he is told. Ransom snatches the covered tray from the boy’s hands and sprints out.

He looks around and luckily sees you not so far away from the shop so he decides to add a jog to his steps as he follows your direction.

“Hey!” he yells to catch your attention, which he successfully does. You turn around, brows furrowed, stopping when you notice the man from the bakery.

He runs up to you and when he reaches the place where you’re standing, you open your mouth again.

“Oh, did you change your mind?” Your hand makes a move to reach into your bag. “Just say how much and I’ll –”

“No.” He interrupts and confusion becomes evident on your face again. “As I said, it’s fine.” You expect him to continue, to tell you why he stopped you in the middle of a street. But he just stands there, looking at you as if he expects you to say something.

See, when Ransom spontaneously came up with this great plan, he didn’t think it all the way through. He seriously didn’t know what he was going to do, so now, he is just awkwardly shifting on his feet as he contemplates what to say.

“Here.” He shoves the mini tray into your hands. You look at it and then back at him, still confused. „It’s the cupcakes you bought before my sweater decided to have a taste.“

Really? That’s the smoothest thing you could think of? Jesus, what is wrong with you?

But you laugh. And god, is that a beautiful sound. Wait, what?

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” you smile and before Ransom can argue, you stick your free hand out. “I’m (Y/n).”

He closes his fingers over yours. “Hugh… I mean, Ransom.”

The smile doesn‘t leave your face. “Well, which is it?”

“Ransom, you can call me Ransom.”

“Nice to meet you, Ransom.”

You have known since the beginning that Ransom has some skeletons in the closet. Hence the rudeness when you first met and struggle of wording out an apology for his manners. He managed to apologize in his own way and that was okay with you. You know people who don’t even try, but Ransom? He did his best and for that, you gave him your number when he asked.

It didn’t take him long to call you and ask you out. You agreed.

When he asked you on a date, his plan was to take you out for a dinner in a luxurious restaurant, order some expensive wine to get you a little bit tipsy, and spend the night at your place. The next morning he would silently sneak out of your house, block your number and never see you again.

But you are here, sitting across from him, with that big smile on your face, wearing a lovely cream knee-length dress that shows just the right amount of skin which makes him horny and at the same time, he just wants to focus on not how hot, but how beautiful you look.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” you say after the waiter takes away the empty plates.

There is no way he will talk about how filthy rich he is, how his grandfather owns one of the most successful publishing companies and lives in a huge mansion in the rich part of town. No, he’ll save this information for the gold diggers.

“Well, you might know my granddad, Harlan Thrombey?” Okay, nevermind. “He owns Blood Like Wine?” In his defense, this is all he’s ever talked about with girls. He just needs practice. 

You nod. “Oh my God, yeah, of course, I know him! I mean, not know know him, but I’ve read some of his books! Just don’t ask me about them, I’m not exactly a number one fan.” you scrunch your nose and his mind tells him how adorable that is. Shut up, brain.

“Okay, I won’t.” he laughs genuinely. He always fakes laugh when he is on a date if you can even call the ones he’s been on that. “Besides, you can’t be a number one fan even if you wanted to, because that place is mine.”

“I wouldn’t assume anything else. Are you close with your granddad?”

He averts his eyes for a second and clears his throat.

Instead of answering, he throws the question back at you, his voice defensive, maybe a little too harsh. “Are you close with your granddad?”

The corners of your mouth slightly falter and you look down for a second before facing him again, “I was. He died when I was 15.”

“Oh.” Ransom’s face softens.

“But I loved him. Every Halloween, I’d force him to tell me scary stories all day and all night.” you smile at the memories. “You know, I’m sure he and your granddad would get along. He did come up with some pretty amazing tales.”

And suddenly, he is intrigued. “What was your favorite?”

You tell him about the cursed toy factory, how every Halloween all toys come to life and they stuff all the employees with plush so they become these living toys, too, and from all the anger, they do the same to the future workers the following year.

He laughs at that, agreeing that your grandfathers would indeed be good friends.

“I’m not that close with my granddad,” he says after a few moments of silence. What surprises him is your hand carefully coming to take his which was laying on the table. His eyes focus on your thumb that is stroking his knuckles as he continues. “I’m not close with anyone from my family, actually.” Why is he telling you that? Fucking stop.

He clears his throat and withdraws his hand, scratching the back of his neck.

“You ready to go?” he asks and you just nod.

He isn‘t in the mood for sex anymore, so he drops you at your place and speeds home. God, what are you doing to him? There is something about you that makes him want to open up to you, spill all of his secrets, desires and dreams.

It felt kind of good to tell you about his family, but to be honest, he is scared. He doesn‘t want another person that’s just going to treat him like a worthless piece of shit in his life. I mean, he is, but it would just make him even more shitty.

He’s decided. He is not going to see you ever again.

Then his phone beeps.

(y/n): I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable but I had a great time! I’d definitely be up for doing it again! You can tell me more about your family:)

He scoffs. Why the hell would you want to hear about his family when he told you he’s not close to them?

Then the phone beeps again.

(y/n): Or not! I mean, we can talk about whatever you want! But if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. That’s what I meant.

A smile involuntarily makes its way on Ransom‘s face. Maybe he will see you again.

Since you started spending a lot of time at Ransom’s house, he convinced you to bring some of your stuff. Some clothes, your favorite mug with a whale, saying mornings blow, books and a strawberry-scented shampoo which Ransom became to love.

Almost every morning you share a shower. Sometimes it escalates into a morning shower sex, but most of the time you try and fail to tame him, even though you remind him and yourself of all the times you’ve been late for school, which he doesn’t really care about, to be honest.

You head to the bathroom first, because it takes time for him to get out of bed. After a while, he joins you under the stream of water, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he kisses you where your neck meets your shoulder and licks the drops of water from your skin.

You sigh in contentment, putting your arms over his and enjoying the relaxing moment.

Seconds pass and you turn around, taking the bottle of your shampoo while doing so, squirting some into your palm, and the scent of strawberry fills your nostrils. As usual, you bring your hands into his hair, massaging the liquid into his skull and he closes his eyes in bliss, humming.

“You enjoying yourself?” you smirk.

He opens his eyes again and smiles, those butterflies in your stomach coming to life.

“You know I do.” He leans in to kiss you, your arms circling his neck. His hands slide to your butt, kneading the flesh before they grip the back of your thighs but when you are about to jump, he shrieks.

“Shit!” he backs up and his back hits the opposite wall.

You panic, not knowing what’s happened. “What?! Baby, what happened?” You come to him and his fingers are already rubbing at his eyes.

“My eyes! My eyes!” He screams. “I can’t see shit!”

You suppress a laugh, reaching up to remove the hair from his face and wipe away the suds. Then you reach for the detachable showerhead, turn down the temperature, and put it in his hand.

“Here, baby, you have to rinse them.”

He does just that, moans still leaving his mouth at the stinging.

After he finally manages to get all the chemicals out of his eyes, you can��t hold it anymore. You burst out laughing, unable to stop and he just stares at you with a scowl, putting the showerhead back into its place.

When he turns to leave, you grab his wrists.

“Oh, baby, come on.” you wipe the mixture of water and tears from your eyes. “Don’t leave me here all alone.”

He frowns, his bottom lip sticking out just a little bit. “Might as well. I’m not gonna let you make fun of me.”

The grin is still on your face but you stand on your tiptoes and kiss his pout away. Ransom immediately reciprocates the kiss, pushing you against the wall.

“It hurt,” he says in between the touches of your lips.

“I know, baby,” you say. You pull away and smirk. “Is there a way I can make you feel better?” your suggestive tone hits his ears before you’re sliding down the wall to your knees.

Thank God he didn’t leave the shower.

It’s Friday night and you are watching TV this time in your apartment. Ransom still hasn’t come home from the mansion where he’s spent most of the day, as well as his family. He’s been working with Harlan for quite a while now which boosts up his confidence (not arrogance, there’s a difference) a little and it makes him feel better about himself, proud even, that he‘s finally useful. However, Walt has been giving him shit for it ever since Harlan gave Ransom a chance to be the Acquisitions Editor (of course, he has been pestering him long before that, but now it’s even worse).

Ransom can defend himself, you’re not worried about that, but his family brings out the worst in him, they push him into this dark place that is hard to find a way out of and sometimes you’re afraid that it will destroy him. That’s why you’ve promised yourself that you’re always going to be here for him, no matter what.

And as you expected, you hear your door being unlocked and then slammed shut with a force. He doesn’t even jokingly call out his honey, I’m home! which he never forgets to do. Uh-oh. Doesn’t look good. But again, you didn’t expect anything else.

He comes to the living room, strands of his hair sticking in every direction and falling over his forehead.

“Jesus, why’s it so hot in here?” he takes off his maroon sweater, revealing his plain white t-shirt underneath.

“It’s winter and cold. You expect me to have snow in here, too?”

He just shakes his head, coming to the back of the couch as you crane your head to give him an upside-down kiss. Then he heads to the kitchen, searching the cabinets for something to eat, meanwhile, you turn off the television.

“There should be three croissants in the breadbox!” you say loudly enough for him to hear.

“You want one, too?”

You answer with a no and wait for him.

When he comes back to the living room, he sits next to you and leans his back on the armrest. You’re already looking at him, watching his every move, and trying to see a sign of any emotion he might be feeling. He gives you a knowing look and you shift so you are fully facing him, putting your hand gently on his bent knee and lightly stroking it in a comforting way.

“Three, huh?” he asks with his mouth full.

“Just in case it went really bad.” you give a nervous smile, waiting for him to either confirm or rebut.

Seeing the crumbs fall from his mouth, you reach for the plate that is on the coffee table and give it to him.

“Well... nothing I’m not used to.” he takes another bite of the chocolate pastry. Once he swallows, he takes your hand and kisses your palm. “I love you.”

You smile and lean towards him, supporting yourself by putting both hands on his thighs as you kiss him on the lips that now taste like cocoa.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his mouth.

After Ransom finishes the pastry, instead of going for more food, he lies down, putting his head in your lap. It‘s kind of a ritual now, every time he comes home (his or yours, wherever you are) after visiting his family, he satisfies his sweet tooth (sometimes it’s 1 croissant, sometimes it’s 5), then he sprawls his body on the couch and rests his head on your thighs, nuzzling his face into your stomach while you thread your fingers through his hair and read a book or watch the TV.

“You want to talk about it?” you ask softly.

You stroke his ear with your thumb. He stays quiet and then sighs.

“Later.”

You bend down as much as your position allows you to, placing a few kisses on his temple and across his cheek before you let him drift off to sleep.

You are Ransom’s safe place, just like he’s yours and always will be.

the end

a/n2: so, ehm... *crickets chirping* okay! i have a thing for fucked up guys who i believe can change if you show them a little bit of love, sue me! no but seriously, Ransom is an asshole and he would probably shove the rest of the cupcakes into my face but a girl can dream, right?

anyways, i do have some ideas for part 2 even if it looks like this doesn’t necessarily need a second part..? it could probably be read as a stand-alone but i’ll see if i even decide to post it lol.

thank you so much for reading, any kind of feedback will be appreciated!🥺❤️i love you, guys!!

oh and my other work can be found under #writer luci !!

[zire-in-space]

This Is Always Going To Be My Pinned Post

I'm through with humanity right now, as so much shit has made me go batshit insane over the extreme marginalization by other marginalized peoples. So I'm making this my official pinned post to rid and block anyone that are these things below:

Anti-semetism: I couldn't give two fucks if you are a redneck conservative alt-right winged asshole or some wannabe woke anarchist or progressive. There are no differences between a white or black anti-semite and I make no fucking exceptions for it.

Homophobia: Pretty much the same as above I do not give two shits if you are democrat or republican, and I definitely do not let any homophobic hate on my blog, whether from a black or white personor anyone in between.

Transphobia: I dont care if your a lesbian/gay person, if you're black or white, if you're a woman or not, a feminist or not, a Democrat or not, I do not allow any type of Transphobia on my platforms.

Sexism and Misogyny: Again, I do not care if you are white or black, democrat or conservative, man or not, lgbtq+ or not, I do not tolerate nor allow sexist or misogynistic shit on my blog.

Racism / Prejudice / Colorism / Anti-Blackness etc: I couldn't give a thought of a fuck for this shit, I do not care if you are black and support or are a black fake woke activist for BLM or if you are some white degenerate All Lives Matter supporter or activist, or if you're a asian or hispanic or muslim or native american. I. Do. Not. Care. What. Race. Or. Ethnicity. You. Are. I do not tolerate any racism nor marginalization from anyone.

****addition to the racsim/prejudice part:***

(I also do not want anyone playing Oppression Olympics with my posts. There is not a marginalized group that is more oppressed, nor is there one less oppressed. This is always a move made by some of the black community or lesbian/gay terfs to both ignore/wave away issues related to other marginalized groups, but also to be able to discriminate and marginalize other groups (who are non-privileged). I am aware other communities do this aswell, however I have been seeing a pukable amount of this within those two communities. Those who defy this rule will be blocked and reported.)

***end***

Xenophobia: Another I-don't-give-two-fucks-who-you-are thing. If you are black or white, lgbtqa+ or a cishet, woman or man, I do not want nor tolerate any xenophobic slurs or hate speech at all. And again my tired ass don't care if you are some fake woke anarchist or centrist or liberal or conservative or progressive. I do not care.

Albeism: I do not care who you support. What race you are. What religion you may be. I do not accept any excuses nor give any exceptions or listen to whatever dumbass arguement you will give to be an albeist piece of shit.

This post will stay pinned for as long as I want. Until people realize they cannot try me with their prejudice asses, until this blog is a total blockade away from any of the things above, and a true safe space for any and everyone who is a decent human being, it will remain this way. I do not care. Unless you are getting depressed by my posts and want an occassional cute comic or oc backstory then you go to my asks.

This blog is a safe space for those who want to crack a joke to chill out. Talk about controversial stuff but also understand you cannot say that the amount of given humanity towards certain groups is a debate. Maybe bring awareness to an issue without the stress of aligning withsome dumbass strict blm usage or with hateful xenophobic rhetoric. For trans women to go to talk about feminism and their support without the stress of terfs and radfems. For lgbtqa+ people to feel welcomed without the dreaded feeling that the people of this community I want to build will suddenly harm them with their sexuality/gender identity. For non-christians to go to and not get pitted against the bible or god or jesus and feel like they can practice their religious beliefs without being hunted or mocked for it. For black people to go to without the dreaded fake woke white people demanding blm focus on blue lives matter instead of focusing on their brothers and sisters and other colored peoples. For nuerodivergent people to go to without the constant albiesm hate and rhetoric from nuerotypicals.

At this point I could not care less if my blog only had colored, immigrant supporting, lgbtqa+, non-christian, nuerodivergent or disabled pro-choice feminist women in it. As long as it takes to make all of Tumblr understand and know about my blog and that it is absolutely inclusive and extremely progressive and anti-capatalist and pro-choice.

Till then, this post will be pinned.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 9

As promised, two chapters in one day! HBD to this trash rabbit. I just get thirstier with age.

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. DRUG USE IN THIS CHAPTER. Just generally an uncomfortable vibe, thread carefully.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Ooh, boy. This is a whole mess. Angst. [insert drugs owl meme]. Steve doesn't pass the vibe check yet again, stupid old man. Bruce + Tony be like: I CAN'T GET NO SLEEP CUZ OF Y'ALL.

My beta, whomst I love more than cake - @miscmarvelwritings . She's so beautiful though. And so smart. Wow.

The strobe lights pulsated to the rhythm of the music, bodies swaying, gyrating to the tune. The club was banging this time of night, people were living it up like there was no tomorrow. For me, in the VIP zone it was quieter, calmer, but no less exciting. The atmosphere here was distinctly different from the one on the main floor.

It was hard to wallow in misery even if it only took me an hour to stop resisting the gratuitous amounts of white powder on the silver platters. "It's better when you're there to watch them, they'll do it anyway but at least you can know that they're getting the good stuff!" My idiot father proudly announced, looking at me snorting a line through a rolled up hundred dollar bill.

Whiskey and vodka wasn't doing it for me. It made me feel low and Dad, being Dad, of course noticed it and immediately called a guy who knew a guy and suddenly all of his friends and their baby-faced companions had white under their noses. Cash flew like autumn leaves.

As I went out to the main dance floor to get a closer look at Billie Eilish in all of her edgy, beautiful self, the drug hit me like an avalanche. No trace of the grogginess or the mortification that had hitched a ride on me from Stark tower. I danced and sang and saw dad smiling at me in approval, his equally high and important friends all wearing identically predatory smirks. They were good at spotting the obvious - beauty, talent, money. I had no qualms about the fact that dad was off bragging about my close relationship with Tony. If my father was feeling particularly bold, he'd be telling them he knew and encouraged it all along, his buddies pretending to believe the white lie in turn.

I had exchanged my pants and sneakers in favour of a skirt and fishnets with high heels combo, a decidedly inappropriate attire for a daughter having a family night with her father but he insisted I dress trendy. I loved my dad, I really did, and I knew he meant well - I'd definitely be out of place amongst these TVscreen worthy people in my jeans and sneakers but...Tony was one of those people, and he had never ever said anything bad about the way I dress. Even when I obviously and purposely put on obscene clothing just to get a rise out of someone.Tony just smiled and played along.

Tony Stark was the heartless asshole here? Really, press? Really, haters?

"Standing there, killing time, can't commit to anything but a crime..." I sang along quietly as I hurried back to the VIP area. My dad was standing up and so were a couple of his buddies. "Where's ya goin'?" I asked, taking a seat.

"Be right back baby girl, if you find better company then go on without us," Dad winked, throwing a totally nasty glance at one of the girls. She was not much older than me but her body was stick thin and bolt-ons and Botox were her two best friends. She gave me a dirty look and I returned it, extending a waiting hand towards my dad. He chuckled, depositing a neatly rolled stack of hundreds into my palm.

"Dad, I want a new purse," I whined, just a tad. Just to see the girl's eyes go wide with acrid envy. Dutifully, another couple of stacks landed in my palm without any objections and the company retreated towards the back door.

I sighed.

Fiddled with the straw of my drink a bit, contemplating my options. I could always ditch this party and go somewhere more active, somewhere with better music and kinder people.

"Ay, baby girl, you wanna party with us?" A tall, handsome man from dad's previous company approached me. "We'll have some fun." He maintained a respectful distance but the intentions were clear.

"Nope," I popped the sound, not even sparing him a glance. A few lines of cocaine stared at me from the table beckoning with a better high, a stronger sense of euphoria, confidence and energy to dance, to sing, to be happy. I picked up one of the discarded banknotes, quickly rolling it by a sheer force of habit and cleaning up the tray. One line.

"Holy shit, is that..."

Two lines.

"The fuck?!" I recognised that voice. I have been hearing it every day in the labs, I've been hearing it in my dreams.

Tony was gaping at me, in front of me.

"Hey, Tony. Fancy seeing you here." Any other time, I'd be cringing at my lame greeting but I was feeling way too good to care about trivial things like being clever or being appropriate.

"I was looking...for you," He slowly said, putting a single finger on the tray with the last line of coke and pulling it out of my reach.

"That's funny," I snorted, hastily wiping at my nose to cover the tracks of my very bad, very immoral, very illegal activities.

"It's not, Princess, it's not funny at all," He frowned. "C'mon, we're leaving." And extended his hand. I decided to follow along - there was nothing for me to do at this club anyway, the music was lame and the people were stuck-up.

"I look like a prostitute, Tony, I'll take the back door," I attempted to pull him towards the aforementioned but he didn't budge, just stared straight ahead and towed me along like he was wearing one of his iron suits under the stylish jeans and tee get-up.

He stopped in front of the exit, giving me a critical once over. Wiped my face, again, brushed my hair back. Gave me his shades - I dutifully put them on, figuring the manic look in my eyes was anything but attractive right now. "Jesus Christ, Princess," He sounded desperate. "You're beautiful, don't you fucking worry."

And we made our exit, arm in arm, me trying not to stumble in my high heels, Tony being my rock, my solid foundation. In other words, I was hanging onto him for dear life trying not to fall over and give a reason for a sneaking paparazzi to make a scandalous headline.

"You're doing great, Princess," Tony helped me into his Tesla, slamming the door behind me and hurrying towards the driver's door. I managed to unclasp and kick off my shoes, curling up comfortably into the passenger's seat.

I watched the man as he started the engine and watched him wrestle with whatever personal demons that tormented him as he peeled off and raced into the Friday night city.

"What in the everlasting fuck..." He started, stopping abruptly mid-sentence. "How did you even get in there?"

"I came with dad. He literally ditched me to fuck some whore, like, twenty minutes before you showed up." I shrugged, eyeing the modified panel of the car. It was very obviously Tony's own design. I wondered if he could introduce me to Elon Musk someday.

"What the fuck? And correct me if I didn't hear you clearly," Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your father took it upon himself to drag you to a club, get you drunk, gave you cocaine and fucked off with some groupies?"

"Yah, that's about it. My dad is all about cocaine and whores, the more the better," I replied, leaning in to take a closer look at the car's panel. "Hey, could, like, introduce me to Elon Musk someday? That would be fuckin' awesome."

Tony went eerily quiet, I saw his knuckles on the steering wheel go white. Vague expletives were muttered under his breath. "I'm guessing you're good on sleep?" He finally asked through gritted teeth.

"Sleep? Don't know her," I laughed. "I wanna dance, Tony."

"Of course you do, Princess." His smile was tired and forced and full of pity. "You know, I don't think I'll be able to sleep now, either," He admitted, taking a sharp left. "How about we get some McDonald's and camp out in my lab?"

"Sure, whatever," Not like I had much choice in the matter. What I really craved was a good, long, hard fuck (by Tony himself preferably) but if science calls... I have no choice but to comply. "Get me two Big Macs," I demanded least he try to joke and get me a Happy Meal or some shit.

He did get me the food without any usual grumbling. I didn't like this Tony. Tired Tony, sad Tony, angry Tony. Wrong Tony.

"Huh?" He said and I realized I'd said the last part out loud.

"I don't like a sad Tony,” I said. "It's the wrong kind. Sassy, snarky and perpetually caffeinated Tony is the best Tony. The only proper kind, in fact." I stated with seriousness, shoes dangling from one hand and my McDonald's in the other. Man, I have been seeing more and more of this god-damned elevator recently.

"You're high as a kite, darling," He chuckled then, a real laugh.

"Who's high?" Bruce's voice came from the kitchen.

In a state of blind panic, I jumped behind Tony. "Not me."

Tony palmed his face.

Steve came over from the fridge, leaving the rummaging to Bucky. He took one look at me and suddenly I felt small, insignificant like an ant. I didn't like it much. "Holy hell, the fuck happened? Tony, explain." The Captain demanded, giving me the world's biggest stink eye.

"It's her piece of shit of a father, dragged her off to some night club and left her hanging with his buddies, fucking off god knows where. It's not her fault so lay the fuck off, Rogers, with your self-righteousness," Tony exploded all over Steve, the pent up frustration rearing it's ugly head.

I mustered enough courage to tiptoe around the dick measuring contest to sit at the counter. My appetite was gone and my burgers were turning colder and soggier with every passing second. Just like my life.

"Hey, Princess," Bruce's gentle voice halted my train of thought. He approached me carefully, ignoring the men behind me in favour of simply wrapping me up in a quiet, comfortable hug. "You feel alright? Want some water?"

"Nu-uh," I mumbled, unwilling to part ways with the warmth of this embrace.

"... Steve, I found her snorting miles of coke all by herself while an some jackass was waiting for her to be even more out of it. It's rare that I say this but I had literally zero words." Tony punctuated his words by tapping his fist against the wall multiple times.

Bruce tightened his hold on me, a sudden influx of strength accompanied by a quiet, low growl in his throat.

I felt the sudden need to clarify the situation. "Tony, chill. It takes me a lot more to be out of it, I'm fucking coherent and I'm talking sensibly. It's not my first rodeo."

Apparently I'd gone and said the wrong thing because all the men in the room were suddenly growling. I even totally forgot about Bucky who had the uncanny ability to exist in a room without making absolutely any sort of noise.

"The fuck do you even mean by that, Princess?" Tony screeched, probably already knowing that answer.

"From one rich kid to another, you should damn well fuckin' know," I spat, unwilling to admit my misery.

He sighed, audibly deflating behind me. I refused to listen to him, refused to be humiliated and exposed like that for my perfectly human desire to be happy. To not be a disappointment, to not be disappointed in everything and everyone. Bruce was nice and kind and warm and selfless but even he couldn't love me the way I wanted to be loved. Cherished, taken care of. All that mushy stuff. I was selfish, so I snuggled in closer to him, muting the world around me, replacing it with the smell and feel of him.

Cocaine made it a whole lot easier to imagine. Maybe that's why it was so addictive.

"Guys, calm down, you're stressing everyone out," Bruce rumbled quietly. I loved the way his deep voice seemed to reverb throughout his chest.

"Get me a cup of coffee, would you, Buckaroo?" Tony sighed again. I heard the sound of him slurping at his coffee. I heard Bucky's metal arm clunk against something equally metallic before the supersoldiers bid everyone good night and walked off.

Only then I removed my face from Bruce enough to take a good look at Tony. He was eyeing me, too.

"We have a caffeinated Tony," I said, softly. "Now we just need some science to have a happy Tony."

He smiled but it came out watery. He wanted to say something but choked on his words. "C'mere," He finally said, turning in his chair and opening his arms.

I unashamedly made grabby hands, the universal gesture for ‘I want, gimme’, and Bruce delightfully deposited me into Tony's waiting arms. It was like my birthday and Christmas came out all at once. Tony's embrace was warm, like Bruce's, but tinted with an unexpected familiarity. He smelled like motor oil and fancy cologne. It was heavenly.

"You keeping tabs on me, huh? Coffee, science and sass? That's your recipe for happiness?" The engineer asked me, a seriousness that didn't match the joking tone of the conversation at all.

"I think I got you figured out. Peter, too, is important for happiness. But in controlled amounts," I said, giving it a careful thought.

Tony chuckled, sounding a little bit shocked. "What about you?" He said after a brief moment of silence passed, interrupted only by Bruce's tea kettle coming to a slow boil.

"I don't think you need me for happiness," I said, meaning it. "But let's be honest, I'm a nice addition."

He stilled under me, briefly. Bruce cleared his throat.

"Brucie needs me, I think. He's lonely," I told Tony with a sudden influx of desire to be completely honest and 100% transparent. "And it makes me happy, because I need Bruce too. He's the best," I finished.

"Is that so?" Tony sounded vaguely tearful so I attempted to pull back to take a good look at his face. He didn't let me though, gently but firmly pressing my face back into his chest. "And me?"

"I do need you, Tones," I admitted without spilling any unnecessary details.

There was a child within me, small and scared and lonely, like Bruce. I hated her, hated being so soft and needy when everybody else obviously (and understandably) was busy with figuring out their own lives. I wished, desperately so, to just boom-boom-whoosh her away like Doctor Strange magicked away unwanted visitors.

Tony said nothing but his hands betrayed him. They shook and they held onto the skimpy see-through fabric of my top like he was a drowning man and I was his only floatie. For the moment, I closed my eyes and let myself believe he needed me, too.

"I'll catch a wink or two, wake me up if you need something," Bruce broke the silence, having finished off his tea. I didn't notice the time pass so quickly, too lost somewhere between here and there and Tony. In short, I was being lovesick all over the billionaire.

"Bwucie," I leaned backwards, pushing until Tony caved and let me rest my back against the counter, elbows on top of it, legs dangling freely on the sides of his legs. It put a lot of me on display. Tony had called me beautiful earlier so none of my usual habits of being appropriate around the man concerned me. He thought I was pretty!

"Princess," Banner came over to wrap me in a hug that was quite awkward, considering the fact I was sitting on Tony. It took some maneuvering to get it right.

"Night night," I said the usual and got a brief kiss on the cheek before Bruce shuffled off, yawning.

Tony was watching us with an unreadable expression. As soon as I turned my head to look at his face instead, something in him changed. His eyes grew big and round, the crease between his eyebrows disappeared. The corners of his mouth tilted up.

On a sudden impulse, I reached over to run my palm gently over the neatly trimmed line of his beard, following from his chin to his jawline, to his soft tousled hair. His eyelashes shook, fluttered, as the engineer leaned into my touch with the grace of a cat. "Kiss him, kiss him" my brain chanted. I knew I was a coward, I wouldn't do that. "Pretty," I said instead, the word coming out in a whisper.

He gulped, audibly. "Princess, you have no idea..." Shaking his head, as if he was surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes, Tony briefly looked away. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"Nope," I agreed solemnly. "But at least it feels good. It feels right."

"God," He frowned, one of his hands coming to nervously card through his hair. "Nothing about this is right."

My face fell. Just like I thought, Tony wanted exactly nothing to do with a clueless little teenager. It stung and tears pooled in the corners of my eyes where I stubbornly refused to let them escape and make me into a crybaby. "Whatever you say, Tony." I was ready to agree with anything he said, really, if he would just keet holding me like that.

"Don't," He raised a palm. "Don't close yourself off like that."

Now I was genuinely confused. What exactly did he expect from me? I shrugged.

"You're clever, brilliant and beautiful, you can and should do so much better than all of this," He vaguely gestured towards me, towards himself, towards us and the whole damn city.

I contemplated my answer, briefly. "A lot of people tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing. Don't I get a say?" The bitterness had fought its way out and won. "I just want to be happy for a bit. All the usual bullshit."

He looked taken aback, really. Like he hadn't even considered the option. Typical.

Meanwhile, I continued my word vomit. "I want someone to give a damn about what I want and what makes me happier. Until then, I have no other choice but to take care of myself the best way I know how. Like everybody else does," The weight of his arm landed on my waist, pulling me close to his chest yet again. I didn't resist. No fight left in me. The tiredness seeped deep in my bones, chilly.

The sudden change of altitude startled me. The engineer had picked me up and started walking off towards the elevator, directing it to the lab. His personal lab. The tiles felt cold under my feet where he put me down to make his own beeline for the bar. I would've joined if not the drug in my system - the last thing I wanted was to land in a hospital yet again.

I took the moment to browse my social media, untag myself from all the unflattering pictures, post my usual shitpost. A tiny skirt, equally tiny top and fishnets - I felt out of place in his lab although I've worn more outrageous things previously. I was raw, torn open, bleeding my misery all over the room. That was not in my plan, but then again, when did ever life go as you planned it?

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Djem's Legion Thoughts

About three years ago my brother joking suggested I read the Horus Heresy, knowing literally nothing about Warhammer. (Literally nothing. I just thought Space Marines were big dudes in armor and I had never heard of Primarchs and I still know nothing of 40k. Have no idea how the Heresy ends--I'm spoiler free babes.) Anyway, what follows are my feelings on each Legion at the following times:

As of midway through Fulgrim

At the end of First Heretic

At the start of the Master of Mankind

Halfway through the Siege

This is very long. I'm not sorry.

Dark Angels

idk I haven’t met them yet, but their name tells me they are either going to be amazing or fucking awful

Um I still dk

God I fucking love these stupid idiots. Like, they are stupid, for sure, but I dunno, I dig their bizarre sort of pseudosecrecy thing. Plus, aesthetically I’m all about weird monk orders. Also, nothing kills me quite like Farith Redloss having anxiety attacks over trying to figure out Lion.

Corswain showing up like the living embodiment of the dude with the pizza where the apartment is on fire is just so deeply on brand for these chucklefucks like, Lion is all “I’m deeply uncomfortable where Imperial Secundus is concerned so instead I’ll just go ahead and attack home planets because that will demoralize the traitors and then I’m Doing My Part” like fam, pretty much all the traitors sans Perturabo are actual literal demons rn and they all had zero qualms betraying their immediate brothers and also the emperor (and Perturabo already fucked over his own) why in the livid fuck would you think this is in any way helpful, but this is Classic Lion and I love him now on account of that one time when he hugged Roboute because he was proud of him and also because he calls all of his sons “Little Brother” bc he is afraid of being a dad and also because I too am deeply avoidant of issues I don’t want to deal with.

Emperor's Children

mostly wonderful, because they are fabulous and also extremely extra, but they have the most ginourmous fuckwad as a Lord Commander, BUT they have a very good boy as another one, so idk really. Plus the whole betrayal thing and the fucking lodges, but they are purple and fabulous, so, +1?

These are the saddest boys ever in the whole world, and they didn’t deserve what happened to them. I loved them all except for Eidolon and they didn’t deserve anything bad to happen to them ever bc they were precious and I loved them. Also Fabius because he was bugnuts and he hurt my boys.

Jesus, I’m so fucking over them all

Honestly I’m so tired

Iron Warriors

I totally confused them with the Iron Hands. Idk even, boring? But Perturabo (while he has a fucking terrible name) also hates Horus so +15

I still know nothing about them, but I think they are buttholes because of the whole Isstvan V thing. Dick move guys, dick move.

I literally can’t. Like, their entire shtick is besieging and being besieged, and then being pissy bc it is what they are good at???? Like, they are literally traitoring bc their dad got a hair up his ass bc he wasn’t a good independent thinker and didn’t think he was allowed to build castles or whatever? Idk they are exhausting except for the ones that aren’t

I still don’t really get them at all except like 99% of them who aren’t named Barabas Dantioch are asshats and are not independent thinkers who are literally still traitoring for reasons unknown except to stick it to the emperor like?? Get an actual culture??? Just literally stop???

White Scars

I dunno, haven’t met them, but since no one else talks about them, I’m gonna guess, boring?

I dunno but they are worried about them hooking up with the Rout so I guess they are cool?

Oh bless your tiny little souls. They are so sweet, and so, so dumb. But sweet.

They are very, very good boys. They don’t have a ton of range per say but their simplicity is sort of the point I think. They are what space marines are supposed to be, and I love them for that

Space Wolves

ehm, oh, I’m sorry, The Rout. Whateverthefuck, they’re boring, over-the-top fuckheads who are giant fucking hypocrites who suck and probably don’t ever shower. Honestly, they rival the Emperor’s Children in extraness, and not in the loveable way. Fucking awful, 0/10.

Okay, honestly, not as awful as some. I mean, hella extra and I hate what they did at Prospero, but in a world full of awful things, we gotta pick and choose.

They are just so, so...Space Wolfy. Bless them they try, and some of them legit crack me up. I’m just not about their aesthetic, you know?

Much like the other fuckups amongst the Loyalists, they are a blunt instrument used for a specific purpose and do better with like...direct instruction. I’m saying they are not the kind to do well with metaphor and also a lack of like, a dad. They need TE:BBA is what I’m saying.

Imperial Fists

Literally only met them briefly, but they seem a good sort. I like their Primarch? -3 tho cause damn that color scheme.

Still good boys.

Omg I love you all, you precious little bbs. They are just so calm and stoic and honestly even though yellow is a hideous color they are literally like Templars and that is fantastic?????

Listen, the amount of love that I have in my heart for these precious, perfect boys is rivaled only by my love for Rogal Dorn, who might possibly be, and I don’t wanna sound dramatic here, be the love of my life but anyway.

Night Lords

idk but their name sounds sick.

Right, these guys are also dicks. I hate them on principle.

Every time I think of them all I can think of is that one video of the goths dancing under the bridge. They are so. Fucking. Extra. Christ alive, get a hobby that isn’t fucking skinning people.

Yeah idk they still mostly suck and to be perfectly honest I’m still not entirely sure what their point was, even pre-heresy? Like what role did psychopaths play in TE:BBA’s plan for a glorious human empire, someone explain

Blood Angels

I dunno cause I’ve only ever met their First Captain (who was consorting with fuckheads) but Sanguinius is literally Top Tier Fabulous, like Prince Extra, so I hope they don’t let me down

I’m still holding out hope. Don’t let me down boys.

OH. MY. GOD. Honestly, kill me, I love them so, so, so, so, so much, it’s a lot. And I suspect something terrible will happen with them but I don’t care because they are perfect. All of them. Wonderful, perfect, lovely, caring boys who love their dad and I love them. Sweet, loving, precious little bbs who occasionally suffer from tragic vampiric tendencies but I don’t love them any less. They better stay perfect forever. If I could, I would be like Sangy and just take them all everywhere with me so that they could always be safe <3 On a less gushy note, I think one of the most important aspects of the Blood Angels (and of their primarch) is that while they acknowledge their differences from unmodified humans, they also love humanity, deeply. They see them as worth fighting for and protecting, and acknowledge that their abilities allow them to create a universe that is safe for the common man to live in. There is a sort of profound love and tenderness that they have for humanity, and I think it really does make a difference in their legion. (That scene is Master of Mankind with the Blood Angel and the Custodian really highlights what I’m saying here.)

Listen, this may sound dramatic, and I don’t wanna like, go over the top, but I would literally die for them, which would seem counterproductive since that is what they do for humanity but the amount of love of I have for this entire legion and one Angel is too big to contain in my heart okay

Iron Hands

I don’t know them well yet, but they seem like good boys overall. I’m sure one of them is bound to be a crazy fucker tho.

They are good boys. I don’t know them very well, but my favorite moment is when Ferrus had to thank Lorgar for his help so he made him a crozius and then threw it at him because he didn’t want to have to talk awkwardly.

Poor sad bbs

No, but really, poor sad bbs

World Eaters

literally terrible people, but I guess when your Dad is bugnuts….

Definitely should have been put down. As in to death. They should have been killed. Probably.

Still fucking crazy. But I love Kharn, and honestly Lotara (who I know isn’t technically a World Eater but close enough.)

No but they probably should have all been just euthanized? I mean not Kharn bc I love him but also like--they are not viable. Long term? Tbh still not entirely sure what TE:BBA’s plan was here with them and Angron (I’m gonna assume something along the lines of ignore it and hope it goes away, since that is mostly his plan for everything)

Ultramarines

probably enormous squares, but tbh in a galaxy with World Eaters and the Rout, we could do with some squares.

Honestly, I have no issues with them. They do their duty, they are loyal. I hope to love them though. They actually believe in colors.

HOLY FUCK DO I LOVE THEM. ALL 200,000 OF THEM. (Which is probably what Roboute thinks tbh.) Like, I literally haven’t met a single one that I don’t adore and love with my whole soul and entire being. They are precious, soft, beautiful bbs who I adore with my whole heart. And who will make great leaders of the world someday I’m so proud. On a less gushy note, much like the Blood Angels, the Ultramarines really have a sort of profound feeling of protection and duty towards humans. They may not always like dealing with them, but Roboute is of the firm belief that they must understand what they are truly fighting for. Saving humanity is not enough, you have to fight for the humans who live there. (See, the one short story where they find a baby and I died.)

No but what you don’t quite get is that I literally love them. Every single individual solitary one of them, and while some may say “But Djem such a thing is impossible you haven’t met every Ultramarine” I need you to understand that the depth of my love for them and their Primarch is such that I know, in my bones, that I don’t need to meet them all to love them okay bc I already do.

Death Guard

Okay, so honestly I wanted to hate them (because BETRAYAL) but tbh its only the First and Second Captains who suck a lot and idk really the rest are sort of tragically precious??

Seriously, what is Mortarion’s issue?

No, seriously, what the fuck is their problem? Get the fuck over it.

Okay, I do feel bad. For Mortarian. Of all the traitors, him I understand the most. However, that being said, while I can understand his issues, I feel like giving yourself over to demons, turning into actual demons, and also turning on and killing your brothers who refused to become said demons makes you terrible awful people who really need to like, die.

Thousand Sons

okay, I fucking love these lame Warrior Monk Priest Wizards who live in a literal glass city with restaurants and teach random people Tai Chi in the park or whatever. Overall 10/10

I am v. worried that they are going to do something dumb like join the rebellion in order to affect change from the inside and then like, adopt demons or something. Pls don’t be dumb boys.

I don’t even fucking--look, I’m just tired okay?

What the fuck Azhek. No seriously, ⅞ is good enough? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Sons of Horus? Luna Wolves? who the fuck knows

my precious sons. You did not deserve what was done to you. This is why we don’t do frats. I believed in you and you failed me. D:

I love my precious sons. The Sons of Horus however, can go die.

I just--why are you the way you are?

I think the best thing about these absolute morons is that half the legion isn’t even demon fuckers, they just woke up one day and Horus told them to kill their brothers and they went “sure okay” and then just did. They are so fucking pretentious and stupid, fucking speartip, honestly die. I take it back. You all deserved exactly what you got, you dumb fucks.

Word Bearers

look, I haven’t met the rest of these dudes yet, but Erebus is a terrible fucking ambassador. -60/10 for not controlling their boy

HOLY LORD. I cannot--there are not actually words to describe how much I loathe these ignorant dumbasses. Like, seriously. Honestly, the ones who were purged were probably lucky, because the rest of them fucking suck.

God, eat a fucking landmine. Except, that would probably turn them on or something. Fucking assholes.

Just--imagine being such a fuckup that even when you were the first to the “become a demon, save the world” thing you still somehow ended up last. I hope the Ultramarines put down every. Single. One.

Salamanders

idk but this name is dumb. Salamanders are cute and slimy, and while Astartes are fucking adorable, they are not slimy. -1 for the dumb name

They are loyal, which is cool, and they seem like chill bros.

I just, like, they are sweet, but good lord are they simple.

I’m not sure? What they are doing? With their lives? Guys, idk if anyone told you but like, um. There is a war. And I get they’ve had it rough but also the loyalists could use their hope so maybe, idk. Do something? I mean I know there are like, 50 of you left and also you think your dad is dad and I feel you but like-

Raven Guard

idk but I like Ravens and Black, plus their Primarch’s name is Corvus? 11/10 they better not suck.

OMG I love Corvus?? Flies with a giant jetpack and tried to gut Lorgar? Yeah, he’s wonderful. Plus, their Captain seemed cool before he was fucking murdered.

I love them all, bless. They are sweet and simple and kind of stupid, but they make me feel things in my heart, so like, idk, stay precious.

Look, I cried over Branne fucking Nev, I don’t wanna talk about it rn

Alpha Legion

seriously? Lame.

Fuck these guys. What is their deal?

I can’t even really. I really, truly can’t. Nothing has ever satisfied me the way I was satisfied when Alpharius literally lost his head. God, that was beautiful.

Or Omegon? It was actually Omegon? I don’t even know anymore man

[hellraisered]

hello i'm back give me jason x reader hunting together

jason voorhees / reader || hunting together. notes at end of post.

"God help me," She clutched your sleeves as if they were the only thing keeping her upright. There's a nasty gash on her arm, bleeding profusely and soaking through the rest of her clothing. Nails dug through the fabric of your shirt, started to bury into your flesh, making a home for themselves in the warmth it provided. 

Snot ran down her lips, and her breathing was heavy - you could only assume she had been running for some time now. You regard her with obvious concern, reflexively grabbing her wrists.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you?"

She thrust herself into your arms without permission, needing something to ground herself on - and you held her. The only thing the woman could do was shake, and sob into the crook of your neck for a solid minute. You allowed her to find safety in your person until her breath steadied, and she took you by the hand. Her hands were clammy, blistered, and you're sure that whatever this girl had been through, it was a lot.

"We have to go," she wiped the snot off of her lips with her unused wrist, cleared her throat. Fear is far more evident in her voice, now that she could more clearly speak. "We have to go, now."

"What's the hurry- what happened?"

She looks at you as if you were unhinged, a beast in your own right. She wasn’t completely wrong. 

"You haven't heard the screaming? From the campsite, less than a mile from here?"

You only offer a shake of your head, and gesture to the headphones sitting around your neck and accompanying music player.

"Came out here just to be alone with my tunes for a while, these woods are pretty relaxing at night. Was about to head home, right before I ran - or, you ran into me. Why, is something going on at camp?"

"It's a good thing I found you then," she declares after a pause. You think she might regard herself as your savior now - does she get any pride out of finding you, you wonder? Does she feel like she has something to protect? 'Safety in numbers' as a concept has always amused you, especially in recent times.

"We're not alone in these woods- there's a man in here; at least, I think it's a man. Killed my," you can hear her voice break, and you don’t need to look at her to tell that she’s crying. "-killed my boyfriend."

Despite her brief fault in tone, she continues to walk while she talks, but you doubt she has a clue where she's going.

"Holy fuck," you pause for a moment to register information presented, "I'm so sorry."

"We can be sorry later-  we can't worry about what's already happened right now - we need to get out of here."

Her resolve is strong, as is her survival instinct, and you walk a little faster to match her pace.

"Listen, I spent most of my childhood in these woods; I can lead us out. Then, when we’re safe, we can call the police."

She turns to look at you to affirm what you had just said, and there's a glint of hope in her eyes.

"Get us out of here, then- but make sure he doesn't follow."

The two of you quietly walk along an unmarked path through the forest for a decent amount of time, making sure to occasionally muss up fallen leaves behind you to cover your tracks. That seemed to placate her enough, and she eventually visibly calmed. Still, the woman didn't say much. Who were you to blame her; she'd just witnessed who knows how many people die, and from the look of the coagulating gash on her arm she refused to let you bandage, very barely grazed death's grip.

"There's a spot I know, just up ahead - abandoned, has been for a while now, but still has the phone lines connected. Called my mom to pick me up once when it was snowing too hard for me to hike back, but I imagine the road she used back then has been decommissioned since."

As you climb the hill that was the final stretch, the log building slowly comes into view. Abandoned was an understatement, and you could already smell the rot and mold from a few yards away. Her face contorts into an apprehensive expression, but you tug her along; you were someone she could trust, and she'd rather be with a stranger than be by herself right now. You climb the stairs of the porch, careful to avoid one that had given out, and use your shoulder to dislodge the closed door.

There is a phone in the house, much to her surprise and relief, and she pushes past you to get her hands on it.

"It works," and she presses a few numbers on the phone to test if it still functioned, yet again on the brink of tears, "God - it works! We're getting out of here. Thank you so much, I-"

Hot blood spatters against your face, drips down your cheek, and an involuntary shriek rips itself from her lips. You can taste it in your mouth - salty metal, still warm, fresh from origin. Machete now drenched in red shimmers brilliantly, having found a place for itself in her abdomen. The silence the three of you sit in is thick, the phone's constant dial tone hum acting like white noise.

Jason dislodges the blade in her stomach from behind with little difficulty. The way she falls to the floor is inelegant, ugly, collapsing in on herself and desperate to stop the bleeding with her bare palms. You step over her to rest one of your hands on Jason's pectoral, looking back over your shoulder to watch her die.

"Please, please, please, please," she begged faintly, to no one in particular. "God, no, no, please," and she looked at you. Blood sputters out of her mouth as she comes to the realization of how severely she had been mislead.

"I don't understand," you note that she looked like shattered porcelain, once pretty, but now chipped and far beyond repair. Blood was eager to escape her body in what seemed to be pints at a time, akin to a broken faucet which refused to stop. "Please, I thought-"

"But you thought wrong though, didn't you? That's what you get for thinking."

Your voice is a weapon of its own, a sheathed one, just waiting for an opportunity to be used.

She's crying again now, the ugly thing. Softly, and the convulsions of her body that came with every gentle sob brought pain along with it. You stride over to her, and she looks at you, not Jason, seemingly refusing to break eye contact. You press a shoe against her leg, now sandwiched between you and the ground, and pressed against it - how hard would you have to press until it breaks?

“We make quite a team, the hunk and I, don’t we?”

"Please," again, but this time strained, voice breaking as she begs for the compassion you didn't have and refused to provide. The edges of her vision begin to fade away, tinting dark, though her hands still gripped at wound in her abdomen. "I just wanted to go home."

                                                             -

notes:

idk if you meant hunting animals or hunting people and i only realized that . you could have meant hunting animals once i got finished writing this lmaoo sadlasjd

[revchainsaw]

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

She is forever - Part 2

Series Masterlist - Stucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC, Bucky Barnes x OC (Ophelia Wright)

Summary: When Steve and Bucky went to the army there was a girl they went to school with who wasn’t allowed to go. She was left alone and never thought about again, until Steve sees a carbon copy of her on the streets outside Stark tower and she seems to know them just a little too well to be a stranger.

Word count: 2138

‘You’re going to get hurt if you keep thinking like that.‘ ‘I know, but sometimes the world is prettier in my head.‘

Anything is prettier than the world inside Bucky’s head. He knows it, Steve knows it, everyone knows it. With the amount of times Bucky has woken up screaming and skipping his rest it’s a miracle he’s even alive. Which is why Steve is a bit surprised when he doesn’t get woken up by Bucky’s screaming throughout the night. He had woken up at 3am out of habit, but when he checked Bucky’s room he was peacefully sleeping. It had scared him for a second because, at this point, Steve is convinced Bucky can only lay like that when he’s dead. But no. The man wasn’t even curled up like he always was. It stressed Steve out knowing it might’ve been because Bucky was starting to make a wrong narrative about Ophelia in his head. Back in the day, she was the one who would lay with Bucky when he couldn’t sleep. He had written how he missed her to Steve, that he had such a horrible time falling asleep ever since. But now he was suddenly sleeping soundly for a whole damn week. Steve just hopes it is because it give Bucky peace of mind to know where Ophelia ended up, but he knows that isn’t the case.

Ophelia slept horrible throughout the week. The years after Bucky went to war were terrible, but she thought she had gotten over the loss of touch. No, meeting Bucky again sparked the need to be touched and made it way worse than it had ever been. Normally, she could get by with a weighted blanket for pressure and a teddy bear for touch, but last night it hadn’t worked. She felt terrible, but she won’t show it. After all, she doesn’t have shit to do. Working on a new project, yes, but that’s all in her own time. Art isn’t something that just go, go, goes. ‘Good morning miss Wright,‘ the girl at the front desk, Naomi, greets Ophelia as she walks in, ‘mister Stark called. He is having a party this Friday and was wondering if he could rent some of your art to display.‘ ‘Oh, always,‘ Ophelia answers with a smile, ‘I’ll give him a call. Thank you so much Naomi. Anything else?‘ ‘Yes, mister Rogers stopped by and dropped this off for you,‘ she says and hands Ophelia an envelope. ‘Is that it?‘ Naomi nods. ‘Good, I’ll be in the studio. Call me if I’m needed.‘ ‘Yes ma’am.‘ ‘Oh, and I know you have that thing tonight, so I want you to let me know when it’s 5pm so I can take over for you.‘ ‘Oh, you don’t have to.‘ ‘Yes I do,‘ Ophelia says with a smile, ‘you do so much for me, I can do something for you every once in a while.‘ She walks through the gallery, checking if all the paintings are still in place and straight except for the ones who aren’t supposed to hang straight. Satisfied, she walks into a back door and up a staircase to the studio above the gallery. It has marvelous natural light and a beautiful view on the streets. But no time to marvel over the view. Ophelia has an envelope to open and someone to call. She opens the envelope and is faced with pictures of her that she knew existed, but had never seen herself because both Bucky and Steve had teased her with the candid pictures. With the pictures is a note.

“Dear Ophelia,

Bucky and I wanted to thank you for digging through your pictures and bringing these memories back to us. We’ve enjoyed talking about them and reliving the past. See these pictures as our part of a non negotiated exchange. Because your grandmother never wanted to be in pictures Bucky and I took it upon ourselves to get her in pictures. These are a few of the pictures we have taken of her. We hope you’ll cherish them as much as we do. And I know I’ve said it before, but you do look a lot like your grandmother. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a clone of her.

Steve.“

Ophelia feels her heart beat. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. It beats like a bass drum in a heavy metal song. Way too fucking fast. Why does it always feel like they know when they say things like this? Will this last? What has she gotten herself into? To distract herself, she starts thinking about Tony Stark wanting to rent some of her artwork like he does all the time for his parties. It’s something she always enjoys because he doesn’t care what she gives him. For all he cares, she draws a dick on a white canvas and calls it a day, he’ll still hang it. “Stark tower, this is Penny speaking.” ‘Hey Penny, this is Ophelia Wright. I heard Tony called to rent some more artwork?‘ “That is right. I’ll redirect your call to him.“ ‘Thank you very much.‘ “Tony speaking.“ ‘Hi, it’s Ophelia.‘ “Ah, Ophelia. Wonderful. So what’s your answer?“ ‘Of course you can rent art from me. You do have to come over to pick some.‘ “Do I get special treatment?“ Ophelia rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll grab some paintings that haven’t been shown yet. But just because it’s you.‘ “Thank you sweetheart. Oh, Natasha told me you also did a painting for her and she’d like to pick it up?“ ‘Just bring her with you. I’m available until five.‘ “I’ll be over in a few.“ ‘Sure, just tell Naomi to call me over. You know the drill.‘ “I do, but thanks for the refresher.“ ‘No problem. Always happy to help the elderly.‘ “Wow, I feel lightly offended. Let me scrape my pride off the floor and then I’ll be there.“ ‘For sure. Bye.‘ Oh boy, this is going to be fun.

The second Tony puts down the phone he realizes everyone in the common room is staring at him. Which includes Natasha, Bucky, Steve, and Peter who had just come in after some “nerd thing“ as Thor usually called it. ‘Oh, we’re going to pick up the painting,‘ Natasha asks excitedly. Tony gives her a confused look. ‘Yes we are. I’m sorry, why are you so cheery about this?‘ ‘Ophelia wanted to paint something inspired by me,‘ Natasha tells him, ‘I’m curious what it is. I had to pose for a lot of pictures, but I don’t know what it is.‘ Tony nods, but looks no less confused. ‘Can I come too?‘ The group turns to Bucky, who is never one to volunteer to come with. ‘Yeah, sure.‘ ‘I’m coming too,‘ Steve states. ‘Jesus, is this going to be a school trip or something,‘ Tony sighs and looks over at Peter who tries to lower the hand he apparently raised, ‘just come with. It’s fine.‘ Peter nods with a smile. And so the group crosses the street and stand in front of a wide eyed Naomi. She didn’t expect this group to walk in like this. ‘Hi Naomi, I’m here for the art rental,‘ Tony tells her. She nods and starts pressing buttons on her phone. ‘Oh, and maybe tell her that everyone suddenly wanted to come along. Just so she’s prepared.‘ ‘You brought the whole group,‘ a voice says excited. They all turn to Ophelia who comes walking towards them dressed in overalls that have paint stains everywhere and a black sweater that she wears beneath it. ‘Yeah, they all wanted to come along,‘ Tony says with an apologetic look in his face but not in his tone. ‘Of course they did. I’m a great artist,‘ Ophelia jokes, ‘I was going to take Natasha and Tony upstairs to have a look at some things, but now that you’re all here I’d love to take some pictures of all of you to use as references. Most people I hire to take pictures of aren’t- well- they aren’t superheroes.‘ ‘Yeah, sure, I don’t mind,‘ Steve says. ‘Great, great, ehm, who is this kid,‘ Ophelia asks a bit confused as she looks at Peter. ‘Oh, Peter Parker, he interns at the Stark Tower,‘ Tony lies through his teeth. ‘Sure,‘ Ophelia says with a suspicious tone in her voice, ‘let’s go up.‘ Peter looks stressed as can be when they go upstairs. ‘Does she know something? Did I do something?‘ He keeps asking questions in a hushed tone, but Ophelia hears all of it. She’s seen him before multiple times. Sometimes dressed in red, other times dressed in normal clothes. ‘Tony, you should really be a bit more secretive if you want your spider boy to keep his secret,‘ Ophelia whispers to Tony. ‘I knew you’d find out,‘ Tony seems almost proud that she did figure it out, ‘but the kid’s great at keeping a secret. He’ll be fine. Just need to learn a thing or two.‘ She grins and opens the door to the studio for all of them. ‘Please watch your feet, there is paint scattered across the floor. I didn’t exactly had time to clean. If you value your shoes, I do have shoe protectors,‘ she announces to the group. Then she takes Natasha’s hand and pulls her over to a corner. She hands her a slab of wood with her eyes painted on it as the main focus of the face. ‘Wow, that’s beautiful,‘ Natasha awes, ‘I didn’t think you did realistic paintings.‘ ‘I do sometimes.‘ ‘What do I owe you?‘ Ophelia smiles. ‘Nothing. You gave me inspiration, so I give you art.‘ Natasha pulls the girl into a quick hug. ‘Thank you so much Ophelia, I love it.‘ Ophelia smiles and walks over to Tony to show him the new pieces that are ready to go on display after this show. The two look at the pieces for a while, talking about what would fit where, when Ophelia hears a loud gasp. She turns around to see Bucky standing at her rack of private canvasses. ‘Bucky, please step away from those, those aren’t for anyone to see,‘ she snaps at him. He looks up in shock and a realization hits her. ‘Fuck.‘ ‘What is it Bucky?‘ Steve is still oblivious to the whole situation while everyone else is frozen. ‘Steve, I swear to God, if you look at what Barnes found I will tear your head off,‘ she snaps before she can realize it. He stops and stares at her. She rushes over to Bucky and looks at what he saw. It’s a rendition of a picture that is still stuck for it for inspiration. The picture if of Bucky and Steve on that night they went skinny dipping. Ophelia pretends to be relieved, but she can tell that Bucky isn’t buying it. To reduce damage, she flips to a canvas only a few behind it to show him a nude that she had painted with herself as the subject. ‘Sorry, I thought you saw that one. I was working on painting some pictures my grandma left,‘ she tells him as explanation and tries to smile, but Bucky is still unsure about her excuse. Though he did feel a bit invasive when she showed the naked painting. ‘We’re good. I’m sorry for yelling,‘ Ophelia apologizes to everyone and tries to go on her merry way, but Bucky grabs her wrist with his metal arm. The metal makes her shiver and it is only now that she sees it. He watches the change in her face as she looks at his arm and back at him. She looks pained seeing what happened to him. Before either of them can say anything, Steve steps in being the peacemaker that he is. ‘Bucky, let go of her.‘ But Bucky doesn’t listen. ‘Talk.‘ ‘No.‘ He squeezes. She winces. ‘Bucky!‘ ‘Talk.‘ His eyes turn dark as he hears Ophelia’s breathing become louder at the pain in her wrist. ‘What the hell are you doing Bucky,‘ Tony tries to step closer, but Bucky shoots him a look that could only mean danger, so he steps back. Bucky meets Ophelia’s eyes again. ‘Last chance.‘ The two stare at each other, but he can see that she isn’t going to say a word even if he does break her wrist. The seconds feel like minutes as the air becomes thick with tension. No one dares to move and not even Steve dares to speak. ‘Let go of me.‘ Ophelia speaks slow and clear. Neither of them wants to show defeat and it scares everyone around them. Suddenly, Bucky is hit in the head with a mixing stick for paint. Surprised, he lets go of Ophelia who looks back to see Peter with a terrified look on his face. No one had paid attention to him the whole time they were here. He was near invisible to everyone when Bucky grabbed Ophelia so he was in the perfect place to throw something to throw him off. She nods to him as a thanks and runs over to Tony. ‘Bucky, I think it’s time you leave,‘ Tony speaks loud and clear.  ‘She’s lying to us,‘ he barks at Steve, ‘she isn’t Ophelia’s granddaughter, she IS Ophelia.‘

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 2: A Jail

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Sheriff Graham deals with the Golds 

Read on AO3

Graham Humbert did not get paid enough for this.

For the most part, being the sheriff of Storybrooke was easy. This was a quiet, law-abiding community. There were no drugs, no gang turf wars, no serial killers lurking in dark alleys. People kept to themselves and stayed on the right side of law and order. Usually, Graham could manage the whole town by himself. He had never even needed a deputy, though the position had been open for as long as he could remember.   

Of course, bad things did happen in Storybrooke. Graham worked closely with the Mayor, and he knew more than he wanted to about the true nature of evil. But the worst crimes in this town were the things that didn’t get reported to the police department. If whole paychecks were spent at the Rabbit Hole and kids went to bed hungry and property was not stolen, but had been pawned off for much less than it was worth--that wasn’t anything that people called 911 about.

He tried his best, but he couldn’t protect everybody. He was only one man, after all. And Mayor Mills had made his duty very clear: He was paid to make sure Storybrooke looked good. Graham wasn’t there to root out secret crimes. He was there to keep the peace and make sure would-be troublemakers behaved themselves. Most of the time, that job was easy. Most residents of Storybrooke wanted the place to look good too. So they stayed in line and didn’t rock the boat.

With a few notable exceptions. 

It was Saturday night, the day before rent day. Unlike any other Saturday in a given month, the day before rent day was especially quiet. Everyone who owed money to Mr. Gold suddenly realized that they actually couldn’t head out to a bar or enjoy a meal at a restaurant. They stayed home and counted their pennies.

Except for the one person in town who never paid Mr. Gold in cash.

Graham pulled the squad car into the free spot on the road by Birdhouse Corner Park. It was called a park, but it was really a fenced-in lot with a few trees and benches. Every fall Miss Blanchard’s class at the elementary school made birdhouses that hung from the tree branches and gave the park its name. Few birds ever actually took up residence in the bird houses, but it was still a pretty spot to sit outside if you were downtown.

Assuming that no one else had gotten to the benches before you had. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Gold,” he said as he got out of the car. He hadn’t turned the flashing lights on; there was no need to draw attention to the situation. 

He’d taken care of Mrs. Gold often enough to know that attention was exactly what she wanted. 

“Hi, Sheriff!” Mrs. Gold waved with one hand. She was perched on the back of a bench facing the street. Her pale legs glowed orange in the streetlights and they were spread very far apart. Her other hand was plunged down the waistband of her shiny skirt. 

She smiled, like she’d been expecting him. 

At this time of night, all of the businesses in this part of town were closed, and there wasn’t much foot traffic. It was unlikely that anyone driving along Main Street would see the woman hidden in the shadows of a public park. Unlikely, but not impossible. After all, Graham had seen her while doing nothing more than a casual patrol, and what he had seen had been enough to make him stop his car. Maybe he would have done better to just look the other way. 

He did not get paid enough for this. 

He considered his next move carefully. Mrs. Gold was loitering, breaking a few decency laws, and putting herself in no small amount of danger. But she was also his landlord’s wife and one wrong word from her would land him in several different worlds of trouble.

“Bit chilly, isn’t it?” He crossed his arms over his chest to demonstrate that he was wearing a jacket. He tried to keep his eyes above her waist. Mrs. Gold, in addition to her short skirt, was wearing a white blouse and a dark-colored wrap that was so thin he could see her skin through the sleeves. 

“I’m hot,” she declared, leaning back to expose her neck. Her thick necklace plunged past her collarbone and into her cleavage.  “I’m always hot when there’s a sexy man around.”

Graham tried to stand so his stance was more authoritative than sexy. “You were alone before I got here.”

“Was I?” she giggled. “Are you sure?”

His stance collapsed. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried small talk.

“Mrs. Gold, why don’t you go on home? The streets can be dangerous for a woman out at night.”

“Aren’t you going to keep me safe, Sheriff?” Her one hand was still in her skirt and her elbow jerked with quick, repetitive motions. This woman was clearly masturbating, in a public park, in the middle of a conversation with a uniformed law officer. “Besides, what do you think Mr. Gold will do to anyone who touches me?”

Graham ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “So is that why you’re…” he gave up, “... touching yourself?”

She beamed and rocked from side to side on the back of the bench. “Mr. Gold likes me to be ready all the time.”

Against his better judgement, Graham took a step closer to Mrs. Gold. “Are you being coerced? Did your husband tell you to expose yourself in public?”

“Sheriff!” she giggled again. “You should know that I don’t do anything unless Mr. Gold tells me to. And I love doing it!”

Graham rubbed his hand over his face. Suddenly very tired, he pinched the brim of his nose and kept his eyes closed for a minute. “Mrs. Gold, if I tell you to go back home without making a fuss, will that do any good?”

“Nope!” 

When Graham opened his eyes, he could see her smile in the patchy darkness. Jesus Christ, she was still fucking playing with herself!

 “Sorry, Sheriff, but I don’t take orders from you.”

He snapped. “I am an officer of the law, you know! Do you think the law doesn’t apply to you?”

“No-o-o,” she cooed. “I think the law doesn’t apply to Mr. Gold.”

Unfortunately, there was no arguing with that. So Graham did what his training told him was the next step, and what she had probably wanted the whole time. 

He reached for his handcuffs.

“Mrs. Gold, please put both hands where I can see them.”

Still smiling, she put her hands in the air. “You know Mr. Gold owns this park, right?  Sure, the city leases it from him, but it’s technically private property.”

“Mrs. Gold, I just want to take you in out of the cold. I’ll give you a cup of coffee at the station and maybe we’ll have a talk. Will you come with me if I don’t use the handcuffs?”

 She held out her hands toward him, wrists pressed together, begging to be restrained. “I’ll come in all kinds of ways, but handcuffs always make it more fun.”

This was no victory, but what else was he supposed to do? At least he could get her out of public view for the night. Graham closed the silver handcuffs over Mrs. Gold’s wrists. She shivered and made an obscene noise.

He rolled his eyes.

“Wait here,” he said. He left her on the park bench and opened the passenger door to the squad car.

“Yes, sir!” Mrs. Gold pushed her eyebrows together and made a face that matched her voice--mock-military serious, playing that he was in charge of this situation. Hands bound together, she hopped off the bench and stood beside it in her ridiculous heels.

Graham came back with a wet wipe he’d grabbed from the glove box, a souvenir from his last box of wings from Chicken Little’s. He took the wipe out of the wrapper and held it out to Mrs. Gold. 

“Please clean off your hands before you get in my car.”

“Are you going to frisk me, Sheriff?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aww!” she mocked him. “What a gentleman! I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Gold you were so nice to me.” 

He didn’t let himself react until she was in the back seat and he was shutting the door behind her. Even then, all Graham could do was run his hand through his hair and clench his teeth around a curse.   

****

   The Storybrooke Sheriff Station was a small building. Most of the square footage was used to store archives of case files and other paperwork. The only two cells were in the back of the Sheriff’s Office. Most of the time they were just a place to store belligerent drunks until they dried out. 

But Mrs. Gold was not drunk and she had an odd way of showing her belligerence.  

“Mr. Gold holds the deed to this building too, you know.” A good enough reason for her prance around like she owned the place. The handcuffs didn’t dampen her spirits at all.

Graham walked in behind her, a prisoner even though he held the keys. This time of night, there was no one else at the station. Even the dispatch officer, Mariah Moder, had taken the evening off when she heard that her sister Dotty had had something break in her house again. That was why the red light was flashing on his desk phone. Someone had left him a message, or possibly several.

“Aren’t you gonna take my picture?” Mrs. Gold had wandered over to the mugshot camera. She was posing like a model, pouting and winking at a photographer that wasn’t there.

Graham took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “You’re not under arrest, Mrs. Gold. That’s why I didn’t read you your rights. In fact, if you cooperate with me, I won’t even bother writing up a report and you can be home in half an hour.”

She gave him a skeptical look and held up her cuffed arms. “Then what was the point of these?”

“You said yourself that you wouldn’t come quietly unless I restrained you.”  

“Well, I never come quietly unless I’ve got something stuffed in my mouth.”

Refusing to rise to her bait--or sink to her level--Graham cleared his throat. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the couch that sat against one wall, perpendicular to the jail cells. 

“What if I lie down instead?” Mrs. Gold was already moving into position, stretching out on the pilly blue fabric. She leaned her head on the armrest, so her red-soled shoes were pointed in Graham’s direction. The position made her skirt bunch up around her thighs but didn’t reveal her underwear--if she was wearing any. 

Graham shook his head and sat down at the desk by her feet. “Just keep your hands where I can see them, please.”

“Well, since you said please,” Mrs. Gold shrugged and stuck her arms in the air. He watched her tilt the handcuffs this way and that. She hummed and admired her reflection. The girl had been picked up by the cops and she didn’t have a care in the world.

Was she even aware of where she was right now? Could she be held responsible for her actions? Should he have her tested for mental competency? Who would he even call to administer a test like that? Dr. Hopper? Or the psych ward at the hospital? Or did he need a judge to give a court order first?

“One thing at a time,” Graham sighed. He pulled out the office rolodex to look up Mr. Gold’s contact information. “Do you think your husband is at home or at his shop?”

“He won’t answer for you,” she said with matter-of-fact smugness. “And this time of night, he’ll only answer his cell phone.”

Graham looked at the front of the index card. Then the back. “I don’t have his mobile number.”

Mrs. Gold giggled. “Of course you don’t!”

He didn’t answer that, and he didn’t think about the flashing red light on the phone. He just turned the rotary dial and waited for Mr. Gold to pick up. Even if Graham wasn’t allowed to charge Mrs. Gold with illegal activity, he could still impress upon her husband that she was a public nuisance and needed to be better managed. 

This was so stupid. He felt like a principal calling a kid’s parents because they had been disruptive during study time. Mrs. Gold should respect the law on principle. She should at least have enough self-preservation not to flirt with danger and enough decency not to do it in public. But she would only listen to one person and that was who Graham was trying to get a hold of. 

On the other end of the line, the phone rang. And rang. And rang. It kept ringing until Graham hung up.

“Well, he isn’t at the shop.”

“Nope,” Mrs. Gold agreed. She was swinging her hands back and forth over her head, testing her range of motion in the handcuffs. 

When Graham tried Mr. Gold’s home number, the phone picked up on the second ring. And promptly cut out. 

“What the hell?” Graham muttered. He dialed again. As soon as his finger had turned the last circle, the other office phone started to ring. He ignored it. Let that call go to voicemail with the others. He needed to get Mrs. Gold out of his hair.

This time, the phone at Mr. Gold’s house hung up on the first ring. When Graham called a third time, there was a busy signal. 

“What the hell?” he said again. He looked at Mrs. Gold. “Do you think your husband would take his phone off the hook when he knows people are trying to get in contact with him?”

“On the day before rent day? Yep!” She had finally put her arms down, and now they were slung over the couch armrest, one on either side of her head.

Graham put his elbows on the desk and ran both hands through his hair. Two hands, for double exasperation. 

The phone rang and Graham picked up the receiver before it had finished the first ring. “Mr. Gold?” he asked hopefully.

“What?” The voice on the other end was female and very angry. Graham recognized it at once. 

“Madame Mayor! I’m sorry about that. Is everything all right?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve been calling the station for hours! Where the hell have you been? Where’s dispatch?”

“Mrs. Moder had an emergency with her sister so she--”

“I don’t care about your excuses, Sheriff. There’s a real emergency happening right now and I need you.” 

“What’s going--”

“Henry’s missing.” For the first time, there was a break in the Mayor’s anger, a deadly serious sliver of fear.

Graham leaned forward in his chair. Henry Mills was the Mayor’s son. He was a good kid--quiet, maybe a little lonely. That was understandable. If Regina Mills was a person in your life, that didn’t leave a lot of room for anyone else. But the lad wasn’t normally the type to cause trouble.

“It’s gonna be alright.” Graham said the cliche with sincerity. “I’m gonna do everything I can to find him.”

“You had better!” Regina snapped. “I haven’t seen him since after lunch. He could be anywhere by now. Something could have happened to him!”

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ll be over at your place as soon as--” Graham looked over at Mrs. Gold, tried to calculate how much longer he’d be playing phone tag. “--as soon as I can.”

“Get here now!” the Mayor barked into the phone. Then the line went dead. 

Leaning back, Graham let out a long whistle. Many of his conversations with Regina were more intense than necessary, but this time she was right to be demanding. Her son was missing. The only person she even came close to loving. 

“Trouble with the boss?” Mrs. Gold was sitting up on the couch now with her feet on the floor and her hands placed primly in her lap.

Graham looked at her through bleary eyes. Maybe he was seeing things, but she actually looked sympathetic.

“Henry’s missing,” he said simply. “The Mayor is upset. She wants me on the case. But I’m stuck here with you, trying to get your husband to pick up his phone.”

Mrs. Gold looked at the ground. When she spoke, she sounded like a human being, not just an inflatable sex doll come to life. “Henry Mills, you said? The Mayor’s kid?”

“Yeah,” Graham said. Dull eyed, he looked at the floor between his desk and her heels. He felt like he should be angry, but he was just so tired. “You didn’t see him, did you? Ten years old, caucasian male with brown hair and brown eyes. Was he walking by while you were playing with yourself in the park?” 

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Mrs. Gold looked embarrassed. Good. Maybe bringing up kids would make her aware of what planet she was living on. A kid could have seen her out there, indecently exposing herself. Anybody could have seen her. There were consequences to her actions--even the actions Mr. Gold told her to take.  

“I didn’t see anybody,” she said quietly. “Mr. Gold always tells me to stay away from kids.”

Graham looked at her. “Why?”

Mrs. Gold shrugged. “Cuz I’m a bad influence.”

“No argument there.”

She looked stung, as if she had expected him to disagree with her. What did she think he was gonna say? No, of course a woman like her would be great with kids! She was Mom of the Year material, sitting in a police station with her skirt hitched up to her panties. 

Not like Graham thought that he was any better. As well as he knew Regina, he had never spent much time around Henry. There was a reason for that. He wasn’t any better than Mrs. Gold. He was just better at keeping quiet about it. 

“Alright,” he said as he stood up. “I’m done with the games. I need to take you home.”

“No!” Mrs. Gold leapt to her feet. There was a real emotion in her eyes. Fear? “I have to stay out until Mr. Gold calls me and tells me I’m allowed in the house.

Graham’s eyes narrowed. “Allowed in the house? Did he kick you out or something? Were you fighting?”

“I don’t fight with him.” She looked down at her hands in the silver cuffs. She had a few rings on either hand, but it was a simple golden band that held her attention now. “It’s just… one of the rules.”

Torn between wanting to know what the other ‘rules’ were and simultaneously desperately hoping Mrs. Gold would not tell him more details of her peculiar marriage, Graham didn’t speak until the phone rang again.

He picked up. “Storybrooke Sheriff Station, this is Graham.”

“Where the hell are you?” The voice on the other end was so loud that Graham moved the receiver away from his ear until it was safe.

“Hi, Regina. I really am on my way.”

“You should have already been here hours ago when I first started calling you, you worthless excuse for a man!” 

Her standard flame of anger had blazed into a white-hot rage. Graham realized what he had done. He had called Mayor Mills by her first name. He wasn’t allowed to do that in public. That was one of their rules.

“Madame Mayor, I am so sorry.” He tried to grovel without letting Mrs. Gold know that he was doing it. “Please let me make it up to you. Please trust me to help you find Henry. I-I want to--” his instinct was to say please you, but he couldn’t say that while Mrs. Gold was watching him. “We can resolve this together, Madame Mayor, I promise. Please just allow me to take care of some official business first.”

“Graham, if you come to my house stinking like some townie slut--”

“I have Mrs. Gold in custody!” he shouted before Regina’s voice could carry any further. When she didn’t answer, he went on. “I caught her… loitering, and I’m going to drop her off at her house whether she likes it or not.”

In the silence that followed. Graham tried to imagine the expression Regina was making. Was she angry that such a stupid problem was delaying the search for her son? Could she possibly have sympathy for him? Would she understand that he did want to be helping her right now? Or would she get a thrill from knowing that Graham was using his authority to make a pretty girl’s life as miserable as he could?

Regina wasn’t really a bad person, but she did have a strong sense of schadenfreude.

“Fine,” she said at last. “If that’s the townie slut you’re busy with, just get rid of her so you can get to work finding my son!”

She hung up before Graham could promise her that he would. When he looked up, Mrs. Gold appeared to be dislocating her shoulder trying to reach her cuffed hands into her blouse.

“Do not--”

“Shut up,” she cut him off. “You’re lucky you’ve got those puppy dog eyes to make me feel sorry for you. I might get in trouble for this.”

If Graham thought of himself as any animal, it was as a wolf--loyal, family-oriented, and cautious. But when it came to Regina, “puppy dog” was the right image. What was a dog if not a wolf that was weak and stupid enough to be put in a cage? 

But it had gotten Mrs. Gold to take pity on him. Even though she might get in trouble. The woman was practically in jail and she was only worried about getting in trouble with her husband. 

Graham sighed. “What are you--”

“A-ha!” From the depths of her decolletage, Mrs. Gold produced a small silver mobile phone. She flipped it open and pressed some buttons on the menu. 

“Give me that!” When he swiped the phone from her hands, it was still warm from being in her bra.    

Gross.

But Graham didn’t have time to think about it. The tiny screen was already lit up with blocky letters that said ‘Mr. Gold’ and the phone was ringing. He put it to his ear just in time to hear a raspy growl on the other end:

“Are you in trouble already, pretty whore?”

“Mr. Gold!” Graham shouted quickly to keep him from going on. “This is Sheriff Graham with the Storybrooke P.D.. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now.”

The phone was quiet, but not dead, so Graham went on. 

“I’ve got your wife here at the station and I was wondering if I might bring her back to your house?” God, he sounded so weak! When it came to these people, Graham really was a worthless excuse for a cop.

On the other end of the line, Mr. Gold chuckled. “Oh really? Is the pretty whore in trouble already?”

Was there really no difference between how Mr. Gold spoke to his wife privately and how he referred to her when talking to a near-stranger? For her part, Mrs. Gold sat up straight on the couch, one bare leg crossed over the other, staring straight ahead at nothing.

Graham swallowed before answering. “She hasn’t done anything illegal,” he lied. Then he amended: “At least, she’s not under arrest for anything. She was out in the cold and I brought her by the station to warm up. I want to make sure she gets home safely.”

“I’m sure that’s more kindness than that slut has treated you with tonight.”

“Uh…” What the hell was he supposed to say to that? “So there won’t be any problems if I drop Mrs. Gold off at your house?”

“No of course not, Sheriff.” Mr. Gold’s voice was slick and businesslike. “I apologize that the stupid cunt wasted your time. Time is money, as you know.”

Had he really just heard that? “...Yeah,” he said. “I’ll… drive her over to your house.”

“I appreciate the courtesy. And please don’t worry about something like this happening again. I’ll be sure to give that cheap tart a sharp lesson in respect.”

“Uh…” Graham said again. Was that a threat of violence? Did he have to consider that actionable talk? Was bringing Mrs. Gold back to that man really in her best interest?

But then the office phone rang again and he knew he didn’t have time to do that kind of digging. That was Regina. Henry was missing.

He couldn’t protect everybody. 

“Thanks for arranging to bring her back, dearie,” Mr. Gold said. 

And then he hung up.   

Graham snapped the mobile shut and placed it on the desk in front of Mrs. Gold. She picked it up and held it between her hands. Time was of the essence, but he still needed a minute to recover from that conversation.

“So… you might still be in trouble,” he said. 

Mrs. Gold gave a knowing half-smile. It was nice to get a glimpse of a real person out of her. “Did he say he’d give me a sharp lesson or a hard lesson?”

“Sharp.” 

“Oh, that’ll be fine.” She waved her hand as she stood up--or, waved it as best she could with the handcuffs on.

“Can I take those off now?”

She held out her arms. “Yeah, they did their job.” 

Once Graham was done, Mrs. Gold rubbed her wrists and flexed her fingers. She did it automatically, massaging her joints with skill that clearly came from lots of practice.

“So, it’s a ‘hard lesson’ that’s bad news for you?”

“Why, Sheriff!” The fake smile was back, as was the bubbly-bright sex toy voice. “It’s always good when men are hard!” 

“Right.”

He grabbed his coat and they walked out of the station.

****

He let Mrs. Gold sit in the front seat of the squad car, but he didn’t try to talk to her again. He wasn’t trying to be friends with this woman. He didn’t want to get roped into whatever sick games she and her husband played with people in this town. He didn’t want to get to know her. He didn’t want to worry about her.

He didn’t want to think about all the things they had in common.  

But he did turn up the heat when he noticed the goosebumps on her bare legs. And he did put the car in park once he pulled up in front of Mr. Gold’s old-fashioned pink mansion. He wanted to wait and make sure that the door would open, that she got inside. He could make sure she was safe at least until then. 

The lights were on inside the house. When the squad car pulled up, the front door opened. 

Mr. Gold stood, silhouetted in the door frame, leaning on his cane. The lights were behind him, so his face was obscured by the darkness. There was just a small figure with a long, black shadow. 

When she saw her husband, Mrs. Gold let out a gasp of delight. It was dark in the car, but her smile--her real smile--lit her up like a firework.

Graham half-expected her to run up the front steps and leap into his arms. But aside from her smile and some extra-happy humming, she acted just the same as she had been before. She let herself out of the squad car like she was a movie star getting out of a limo--one high heel at a time. 

Then she bent at the waist and braced her arms against the open car door. She had angled herself so that Mr. Gold was getting a very nice view of her butt. 

“I owe you a ride!” Mrs. Gold said, loudly enough that not only her husband, but the whole neighborhood could hear. “You can come anywhere with us!”

Graham sighed. “Take care of yourself, Mrs. Gold.”

She blew him a kiss and then practically danced up the stairs to where Mr. Gold was waiting.

He didn’t want to see what happened once those two were within five feet of each other on the day before rent day. He turned the key and had just put the car in gear when Mrs. Gold came bouncing down from the house, waving to him.

Graham reached over to roll down the passenger window. “Is everything alright?”

She stuck her arm inside the window. There was a crisp fifty-dollar bill in her hand. 

“Mr. Gold told me to thank you for taking such good care of his stupid cockslut. He said he knows what a handful that whore can be and you deserve to be rewarded.”

Mouth open, Graham stared at Mrs. Gold’s face. Then he stared at her hand. Then he stared at the money. This was a bribe. He had to refuse this. He had to report this.

“Mrs. Gold, I can’t--”

“Yes you can.” She dropped the bill on the passenger’s seat and stepped away from the squad car with her hands behind her back. “Your rent is due tomorrow.”

“I’ve got enough for my rent.”

“Then buy a box of donuts.”

Without another word, Mrs. Gold turned on her heel and went back to the house. Mr. Gold was still waiting in the doorway. When she got back inside, he let her in and shut the door behind them.

For a solid minute, Graham sat alone in the darkness. There were a million things he should do right now. But all of them involved being a better man than he actually was. With a heavy sigh, he took the fifty off the seat and put it in his front pocket. He could still report it as a bribe. Or he could give it to charity. 

Or he could buy a box of donuts. 

Graham shook his head and drove toward Mifflin Street and Regina. Priorities. Henry could be halfway to Boston by now and who knew what kind of trouble he might find there?   

[rinusagitora]

Another empty seat in the city of ghosts.

Fandom: BLEACH

Characters: Toushirou Hitsugaya, Momo Hinamori, Kisuke Urahara, Tessai Tsukabishi, Ururu Tsumugiya, Jinta Hanakari, Yuzu Kurosaki, Ichigo Kurosaki, Karin Kurosaki

Pairings: HitsuKarin, others not mentioned

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Shinigami!Karin AU. Chapter 1/8. WARNINGS- mentions of suicide, dysfunctional families;  Karin has taken her life. What follows is a maelstrom of emotion.

AO3

It was hard to believe that, only days ago, Karin took her own life.

Toushirou saw it coming from miles and miles away. He was the one who cleaned up her cut wrists. Hurried over when she was suffering. But it wasn't enough.

Ultimately, Karin got what she wanted: a chance to be a shinigami.

Toushirou and Momo were being processed by the gate guardians. Following Aizen's desertion, they'd tightened up gateways to other dimensions. Now, captains and lieutenants were unable to travel without permission, unless they wanted to receive potentially fatal electrocution from the sigils staining their skins.

But they passed through later. Upstairs, Kisuke Urahara was showing them their gigai.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou, I'm afraid this is vastly different from your last gigai. Since your stay is short-term, it's more or less a... silhouette. Only purposes being harboring your soul, and suppressing your powers. Since it's a ceremony with so many powered folks packed together, we're trying this to avoid hollow attacks."

"Aye," Momo replied, nodding.

"Yours is similar, Hitsugaya."

Toushirou frowned. "It's Hitsugaya-taichou," he corrected Kisuke. Kisuke merely chuckled. He probably blamed Toushirou for Karin's suicide as well. Like he'd talk her into something so traumatic. Asshole.

"Yes... yours is similar, of course, except for... well, deadened nerves. Kurosaki Yuzu is livid."

"Fuck me..." he grumbled.

"I'd rather not, but I'd be prepared for a slap or two. Hopefully, she leaves the nether region alone, but if not, it is equally as dead."

"Thanks for the heads up," Toushirou said. "Where is Karin?"

"The temple, with Kurosaki Ichigo. He's kept a tight leash on her since the... the..." Kisuke couldn't finish. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Thank you," Toushirou said. As much as he hated Kisuke, Toushirou knew Kisuke was fond of Karin, perhaps as fond as his children were.

"Well, I will see you two there... I have to get ready for the memorial service."

"Thank you, Urahara-san. Take care."

He and Momo stepped into their gigai, prepped with black kimono, although Momo's hem and sleeves were adorned with flowers. Lilies and marigolds. How appropriate.

"You remembered the envelope?"

"Of course," Momo replied, straightening her collar. "The car is waiting. Shall we?"

"Aye."

On the drive over, Momo lit her pipe. Toushirou was never particularly fond of tobacco, or how his sister's habit ruined her skin, but given what was to come, he could sure use a puff. Or a drink.

Maybe he should've brought Rangiku... She didn't cope much better during funerals, but she, at least, would have something that she was willing to share to take off the edge. Very much unlike Momo. The only thing she ever really shared with him was conversation. Practically force-fed him, refrained from sharing the shit he cared about.

They came to a stop before the temple. Many were filing in. Toushirou recognized a few. Uryuu arrived just before them, Hiyori loitered in the doorway. Many he didn't recognize.

Jinta and Ururu were there with their other father Tessai. They bowed in unison.

"Yuzu is livid," Ururu said.

"So Urahara told us."

"I stand by her."

Tessai knocked Ururu upside her head. "Enough, honey," he warned, then turned to Toushirou and Momo. "Thank you for coming. Karin-chan will be pleased."

"I imagine," Momo replied, still smoking. "What should we expect from Kurosaki Ichigo?"

"We're keeping him in line if Yuzu doesn't," Jinta replied. "He agreed to keep the peace when Tou-tou and he talked."

"And the Kurosaki girl?" Momo asked.

"Yuzu?"

"Nay, the one we're here for."

Ururu looked inside. "She's... not crying. I think she's distancing herself from this ordeal."

"Perhaps it's for the better."

Tessai said, "Hand-off will occur before cremation. Kurosaki Isshin only agreed to allow us in for the service since Karin asked, but the burial is for family and Kurosaki Ichigo's close friends only."

"I see Kuchiki-fukutaichou as well."

"She won't be causing trouble. She's here as a family friend."

Toushirou and Momo bowed again. "Many thanks," Toushirou said. "We'll head in."

Rukia was the first to spot them. She strode over. "Neither of you are welcome. Please leave before Yuzu sees you."

"The deceased requested us, and the patriarch has permitted us entry," he replied. Everyone was so fucking hostile...

"No matter. Do you want to start shit?" she hissed.

Momo said, "We haven't started anything, Kuchiki-fukutaichou. Besides... do you think it wise to start shit here? Our powers are merely dampened, but I know for a fact there are enough of us gathered here to alert trouble if contention brews."

Before Rukia could reply, Yuzu stormed over. Rukia quickly escaped.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Your father said we were welcomed to the ceremony," he said.

She jabbed a finger against his chest. "You may as well have murdered my sister! I don't want you here!"

Toushirou sighed. "And I do?"

"And who is this skank?" Yuzu hissed, jerking her chin to Momo.

"My sister." Toushirou frowned. "Don't treat her like my mistress."

Momo encased Yuzu's hands. "We are here to grieve just as ye. I understand how difficult this is. My husband passed during a tumultuous time... We hadn't time to bury him, either."

Toushirou almost rolled his eyes. Momo learned how to lie from the best. But it worked. Yuzu relaxed.

"I'm sorry. It's been... it's been a long couple of days."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Kurosaki-san." Momo bowed. "If you need anything, please let me know. I haven't service at home, but Urahara-san can reach me if needed."

"Thank you."

"May we take a seat?"

"In the back, please. The front rows are taken."

"Aye. Thank you again, Kurosaki-san."

Momo and Toushirou took a seat. Because of their gigai suppressing their powers, Toushirou was unable to see Karin, although knew she was there. There were too many people of strong reiatsu concentrated in the temple. It risked a hollow attack. The dampening was meant as a security measure.

The Seireitei owed Ichigo too much to go against a small favor, however cruel it was to Karin.

"I can see why Kurosaki-san is so upset," Momo said.

"Karin was in pain," he insisted.

"I'm in no position to judge her," Momo reminded Toushirou. "But look at the Kurosaki family... Stiff as boards. The little one is the only one weeping, and neither of them is consoling her."

"They're... dysfunctional. I'm sure she refused it."

"For good reason?"

"Aye. They... nay, we all, have lied to her for years. I'm sure she harbors conflicting feelings."

Momo hummed. "Aye."

Toushirou took a good look at the altar, surrounded by white lilies. He frowned. White was never Karin's color. Blacks, reds... Hydrangeas or marigolds would've been more appropriate.

But she was beautiful in her photo. Smiling, youthful. It made him mad too. She was happy with him. With Jinta and Ururu, not some sad, doctored school photo.

Thankfully, Momo didn't seem to pick up on his internal tantrum, merely smoked.

The time came for the service. A priest stepped up and uttered a sutra. Toushirou admittedly zoned out during it. None of it concerned them. What did was Karin. She was in there, but he was unable to console her, take her to her new home, to ease her pain... It was bullshit. Complete bullshit.

Once the service came to an end, Toushirou and Momo quickly escaped, joining Kisuke outside.

"I don't have much time... I'm going to the cremation as well," he said.

They wordlessly stepped out of their gigai. They were tucked into the back of a van and covered with a shimmery sheet that made them completely vanish. Momo and he bowed.

"Best of, Urahara-san."

"Kurosaki will meet you by the aqueduct under an overpass. It's in the center of town," he explained. "Anticipate some... some shit from him too. He's very upset."

"Thanks."

With that as their goodbye, they sped off to the heart of Karakura. Toushirou saw Ichigo's hair from the sky, and they sunk to the ground.

The second Toushirou saw Ichigo, he wanted to strangle him. It felt like they were sizing each other up. Toushirou was sure to lose an arm, but it would've been satisfying clocking him.

Karin was sitting on a bench. There was still a generous amount of chain leftover, thankfully. Toushirou just hoped she hadn't experienced the chain consuming itself... the immense pain.

Toushirou couldn't bring himself to bow to Ichigo, but Momo did. "Thank you for allowing us into your sister's service, Kurosaki-sama."

"It wasn't my choice."

"Nonetheless," Momo said, smiling. "I'd like this to be done in an as expeditious manner as possible."

Karin hopped to her feet. Toushirou instantly wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her like his bride into the other world, away from that mess. That nightmare. "Let's go," she said.

"Hang on." Ichigo stopped her with his arm out shooting. His eyes bore into Toushirou's, and he glared back. "I want him to admit his fault in this."

"Jesus Christ!" Karin shrieked. "I killed myself because there's nothing for me here! Toushirou had nothing to fucking do with it."

"Bullshit! He had to have said something."

"It's your fault I killed myself, alright? It's all your fault! I got tired of getting steamrolled and gaslit by you so I killed myself to get the hell away from you!" Karin ducked his arm and ran over to Toushirou. He happily accepted her embrace. "I'm going to the Seireitei. I'm becoming a shinigami... It's the only way I'll be happy. Fulfilled."

Ichigo looked hurt. Crying. Toushirou turned away, opening the senkaimon into the other side.

He had no idea what awaited them in the future. He hoped, at least, Karin's suffering eased.

[electra-xt]

midnight hotline is one of my favorite fics! it's so rare to find an author willing to treat both luther AND diego as, yk, three-dimensional characters instead of caricatures. i was wondering if you still have interest in their dynamic after s2? tbh i love reading your lists of headcanons, so would delight in any thoughts you have about them as a ship or polycule w/ other characters. no worries if not! thank you either way for feeding us the good content!

ahhh thank you!! luther deserves sooo much more than the fandom gives him, doesn’t he? (although i feel like after the initial s1 backlash i now see a lot of posts that wax eloquent about how poor luther is misunderstood and the most traumatized, so perhaps people are seeing it differently.) they deserve to be three-dimensional characters! they have the potential! even if the writers in season 2 decided to dumb them down a ridiculous amount. olga foroga? everyone leaving diego hanging with ‘team zero’? it felt like the writers were like “well tom hopper has great comedic timing. what if we did that and nothing else.” that being said though, i DID like how when luther stormed out of elliot’s house, diego followed him and tried to give him a pep talk. good shit! enemies to brothers! 

i don’t think i’d personally write more about luther/diego as a couple— midnight hotline encapsulates pretty much all i have to say about the two of them, tbh. in terms of polycules i am a huge fan of luther/allison/diego as a threesome and i can trace this back to the fight scene at the academy in s1e3 which was decadent for a simple person such as myself who appreciates competent people kicking ass together. the reason i love luther, diego, and allison together is the power dynamics between them and the rest of the academy” luther obviously was number one, allison had an extremely socially potent power, and diego schemed all he could to climb in his status. in general, i’m much more interested in stories about powerful people experiencing a reckoning with their status and assumptions than i am about underestimated underdogs. so i am enthusiastic and excited when i see them all kicking ass togethee

i actually wrote about 7-8k words of a second luther/allison/diego fic last december, but i don’t think i’ll be able to finish it— buuut i can post a snippet here! the premise is that they are teenagers at the academy, allison is goading them into manifesting their sexual tension, and diego and luther are coming back from sneaking out to a club :)

The footsteps got louder. Allison inhaled and then exhaled, forcibly calming herself, and then she heard the sound of familiar laughter.

“They fucking loved you, man, don’t act so surprised. You can’t go in a club flexing all your muscles like that and then act like it’s crazy when girls start coming up to you and petting you.”

“I wasn’t trying to flex at anyone— you told me this shirt was fine.”

“It is,” Diego said, “if you’re trying to get laid.”

“You said it was normal.”

“Wanting to get laid is normal, buddy. We’re at the house. Come on, I’ll show you how to get back in.”

Allison stubbed out her cigarette on the metal piping on the roof, and then she climbed out onto her window, perching carefully on the windowsill as they came around the corner into the courtyard.

Luther was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white tank top. It clung to every curve of his muscles. No wonder the girls had gone crazy over him. He looked good, appealing in a rugged way, yet less rough-and-tumble than Diego, who looked like he was smudged with some girl’s body glitter. Luther was leaning on Diego a little bit as he walked. The two of them looked excruciatingly perfect in the dim light, and Allison let out a tiny sigh.

“You good?” Diego said, looking up at Luther.

“Can we,” Luther said, “just sit for a moment?”

“You really need to?” Diego said.

“Yeah,” Luther said, stumbling to the bench in the courtyard and sitting down hard. “Yeah.”

“Oh, baby, you’re drunk,” Diego said, in awe.

“So?” Luther said. “Don’t you do this all the time?”

“I’ll have a drink,” Diego said, sitting down next to him. “But it’s not really the point of going out.”

“You’re tipsy right now,” Luther said. He reached in and tapped Diego’s nose.

Diego batted his hand away too quickly, and Luther laughed. “I don’t usually drink too much,” Diego said. “It’s… special occasions.”

“Like this?” Luther said.

“Going out with my clueless straight boy brother?” Diego said. “Yeah, I’d say that’s special.”

“I don’t know why you’re always telling me I’m straight,” Luther said.

“‘Cause you are,” Diego said. “I mean, I’m not— it’s not a big deal. I don’t care about it. Thought I just… we both know where we stand.”

“I’m not straight,” Luther said.

There was no noise. Allison leaned out the window a little further.

“Oh,” Diego said.

“You wanted to know where we… stood,” Luther said.

“Yeah,” Diego said.

“Is that a problem?”

“You keep it pretty quiet,” Diego said.

“So do you,” Luther said.

“Fuck,” Diego said. He rubbed his face. “This whole time, gay chicken, I thought you were a…”

“I’m not a clueless straight boy,” Luther said.

“You’re a clueless not-straight boy.”

“Diego.”

“Sorry,” Diego said, sounding the opposite of sorry, but he was quiet for a moment. The next time he spoke, he sounded tentative. “You’re really into guys, huh?”

“Don’t be weird about it,” Luther said, looking down at his hands.

“I’m not, man, I promise,” Diego said. He laughed a little. “I mean, I get it better than anybody.”

“It’s not really a part of me I thought about a lot,” Luther said. “Until Allison’s… game.”

“Allison made it weird,” Diego said.

Allison felt a flush of shame from her perch on the windowsill. Fuck her intentions. Fuck herself. Whenever she tried to intervene in a situation, save for a crime scene, she always dug her fingers in too far and made a mess, didn’t she? And Jesus, she didn’t even rumor them this time.

“Yeah,” Luther said. He paused.

“What?” Diego said.

“I don’t know,” Luther said. He still wasn’t looking at him. “You’re right. It’s weird.”

“She has some balls to pull this shit,” Diego said. He shook his head. “Gay chicken.”

“I don’t mind that it’s weird,” Luther said.

Allison went still.

“Really,” Diego said.

Luther shifted. “I know it’s— weird that I don’t think it’s weird, because it’s weird, but—”

“Are you into it?” Diego said, voice low.

Allison could barely breathe from the silence.

Luther looked down.

“Hey,” Diego said, tipping Luther’s chin up with his hand. “You get shy all of a sudden?”

“Diego,” Luther said, “are you…” He shook his head, as if chastising himself. “Are you—”

He cut himself off. Allison watched him, holding her breath, and she could see Diego watching him too. Everything seemed to hinge on Luther in this moment— unlike every mission in which he was Number One, titled as the captain, the boy king, and it was easy to brush him off. But right now, from her windowsill, Allison was magnetically drawn to the boy on the bench with a question in his mouth and a white undershirt that seemed to glow in the nighttime.

“You can say it,” Diego said quietly.

“You don’t know what it is,” Luther said.

“If I knew,” Diego said, “I wouldn’t need you to say it.”

Luther swallowed.

“C’mon,” Diego said. “Let it out.”

His voice was hushed. Allison could barely hear him. Luther looked up at him, disbelieving.

“Are you into me?” Luther said, looking up at him.

Diego nodded, once. Then he nodded again. “Yeah,” he said. “I— this whole time, Allison’s game, I wanted… you better not be fucking with me, you better not tell anyone, I swear to God— you better forget this when you sober up tomorrow.”

“No,” Luther said.

Diego blinked. “What?”

“I don’t want to forget,” Luther said, and he dragged Diego in and kissed him.

[mirror-juliet]

~Searching For Soulmates~ Park Seonghwa X Male Reader

Requested by Jax on tumblr.

Since there isn't a lot of male readers that read my things (To my knowlege) I decided to make this one special by using Jax's name, the one who requested this. I hope you enjoy it bub.

Tagging: @themainineveruse @atinybrew @vocalyunho @hongjoongs-hoe​

Love story's are so over-written these days. So hard to write about. They say write the unexpected, but everyone's already done the unexpected. If you write it wrong, nothing will become of it. If you excel in writing the impossible-you are praised beyond belief. Unexpected love story's are impossible. Most story's are Frankensteins of other stories, stitched together by a dream and desperation. But the well known authors dreamt those dreams before you could write them. You'd just be copying them if you made a story close to the lines of theirs, if the two characters hate eachother, or if they don't know eachother. Who's to say you didn't dream those dreams first, And why wont the world let you dream those dreams more than once. Aren't dreams supposed to be eternal. An extension of our thoughts, how can someones thoughts be wrong. There is no right way to think, it isn't a math formula with a set outcome. So why have people decided that we must think in a set algorithm?

The world's too busy thinking about their own love theory to worry about a simple love story written for a college literature class. Only the teacher would read it, so why's Jaxson stressing about it so much? There are set outcomes to what grade he'll get so it doesn't really matter how he writes the report.

"Here's your Pomegranate potion, Weirdo. You come to a coffee shop and order tea." Maggie, Jaxon's favorite barista and best friend since they were younger ruffles his hair. "You're the one who dragged me here today. I could have finished my report at home."

"There was no way i was going to let you stay cooped up in that apartment one more day. It's a lovely atmosphere here," She's not wrong about the atmosphere, it has the right amount of teenager swag mixed with an almost professional look. "Plus if you get bored you can entertain yourself by watching me train the new guy." Jaxson pays close attention to Maggie now

"That's today?.. And you are going to be the one to train him? Lord help this shop now." Maggie attempts to wack Jaxson upside the head, but he's too fast for her tiny fist of rage "That isn't funny Jax. I'm a good trainer, After all i was trained by the glorious booknerd that is you." She bows and holds her hand out gesturing to him. The boy wonders why he's friends with such a weirdo in the first place, but he supposes it's because he acts just like her. "What was he like, the new guy. Do you know?"

"You could always ask me what i'm like, pretty boy." Jaxson freezes in place, fear painting him as he watches Maggie wear the most shit-eating grin of the century. "Seonghwa, it's nice to see you again. This is Jax, he's off today but he's one of the workers here. Jax meet Seonghwa." Jaxson turns to greet Seonghwa, But holy God's why did he have to call him pretty boy? He's the pretty boy for gods sake! "You were talking up a storm just a moment ago, what happened; Cat got your tongue?" Curse him for having such a beautiful face because Jaxson does nothing but stare and hold his mouth agape! Seonghwa chuckles and goes behind the counter next to Maggie. "When do i start coach?"

Jesus his smile is pretty and he knows it. Jaxson watches him roll up his sleeves into uniform cuffs, his forearms are way too toned for his good, his tan skin extenuates them so much. Despite how good looking he is, he is quite clumsy with the espresso machine. It's expected since he explained to Maggie "I don't like bitter things so I've never used one of these." He has coffee grinds all over his apron and at the bottom of his white shirt. Jaxson had given up working on his report to examine Seonghwha and his arms. Both of them were covered in tattoo's, he cant help but wonder if one of them are perhaps his soul-mark he tries to hide in the cluster of ink. Maggie never tried to hide her mark, though it did look quite odd to only have the veins of butterfly wings on her cheek. Her soulmate, Yeosang did try to cover his up. It looked like 'an unattractive pink blob' in his opinion. Though, Maggie thought it looked cute in pictures, when they kissed for the first time, their marks melded into one. Now Maggie spends most of her weekends looking for Jaxson's soulmate even though he's made it very obvious he doesn't want to find them. After searching forever, he got tired and was convinced that his soulmate had either not existed or died before he had ever met them.

"Seonghwa you'll be okay, i'm just leaving you to make some of these for lunch hour. You're doing much better than an hour ago." Maggie sings sweet words to Seonghwa who seems to be shaking like a leaf in the wind. "I don't think i should make anything for anyone to consume."

"Okay, make Jaxson something and then prove me wrong. If he decides it's too horrible then he'll take your place for the day and we'll train you more."

"Why do you have to drag me into this?" Jaxson groans, he was enjoying his day off-well, not really; But Maggie doesn't know that! Then again, she probably does given the knowing look on her face. After a few minutes of a silent stare match between the two he gives in. "Make me an iced americano." The tan color leaves Seonghwa's face as Maggie leans against the counter, leaving him all alone with the coffee maker and his wits (Which arent a lot when it comes to the machine). His toned arms are clumsy with everything, making a much bigger mess than needed, Jaxson could have sworn everytime something got dirty Seonghwa cringed. After five minutes of entertainment Seonghwa Shakily sets the drink in front of Jaxson. "Whats wrong newbie, see a ghost?" Seonghwa glares at that, upset his own joke was used against him. In retaliation he mutters something under his breath that Maggie nor Jax can quite make out.

He takes the drink and puts it to his lips, only having it on his tastebuds for mm, less than two seconds before spitting it back in the cup. He wipes his mouth and grabs his things. "I'll be back out in a minute. Don't let him near customers." Seonghwa watches Jaxson walk into the employees lounge and come back out in uniform, buttoning his sleeves up and shoving his way behind the bar. "I want you to clear off tables, you'll have to move fast because this place gets packed in about fifteen minutes." But Seonghwa isn't moving, Only staring down at the shorter male. "What?" Jax's getting impatient as he's wasting time standing around when he could be preparing for the forty people he's going to have to deal with for the next two hours.

"Can i take you on a date?" Maggie drops the cup she's holding, hot espresso now on her new martins, the only thing saving her from burns. "What?" Is all Jaxson says because Seonghwa's hot! This is a manga scenario that only happens every blood moon, no love story has ever prepared him for this moment because any situation in a manga would never be accepted by society. And what't the point? Whats the point of dating someone that isn't your soulmate? "Go clean tables please."

The three of them don't talk about the situation the rest of the day, only trading words to explain an order or if they need to wash more mugs. But they do watch eachother. Seonghwa watches Jaxson make coffee and tea at an alarming rate, Jaxson watches Seonghwa clean tables with so much care; never leaving a cup ring. And Maggie watches the tension in the room between the two grow it's like candy burning to the side of a pot. Sickening but sweet. At the end of lunch rush, it's nearly time for the quaint little coffee shop to close it's eyes for a good night's rest. You think for how many people visit it, it would stay open longer than Three pm.

Yeosang came to pick up Maggie for their date night leaving Jaxson to close at the shop. That isn't the plan tonight because for the love of Hade's Jaxson cant figure out why the manager decided to hire Seonghwa other than his looks. Every drink he's had Seonghwa make in the past thirty minutes he has managed to burn or fuck up magically somehow. "Why is making coffee so hard?" The tall man groans out, backing against the counter away from the machine. "It really isn't. You've just added way too many steps to it. Here hang on." Jaxson grabs a fresh cup and starts up the machine once again. The poor thing might be overused by tomorrow.

It's crazy how simple Jaxson makes it look to Seonghwa, not only that but how elegant he is while doing it. His fingers flip switches effortlessly, pouring the milk into a beautiful leaf shape he's convinced the shorter man shouldn't be able to make. But he almost does it with his eyes closed. Seonghwa should be able to make designs like that- "What?" He says, realizing Jaxson must have asked him a question given the quizzical look on his face.

Jaxson's laugh is pretty, Seonghwa decides. It's just the right amount of baritone with the ever so slightest bit of soprano. "I'm telling you to take the coffee so you can see what it's supposed to taste like."

"Aren't we supposed to be teaching me how to make this instead of drink it?" Jax jumps to sit on the counter, taking his own teacup in his hands. "I needed a break and the machine is making sad noises, so here we are. Go on, taste perfection." Jaxson's cocky words brink an obnoxious smirk to the older's lips. Because there's no way his coffee is that good.

But it is

Seonghwa isn't one for bitter taste, hell he doesn't like coffee. But the cup Jaxson handed to him it seems he's refusing to put down. "Woah, woah. You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache." Said boy causing concern hops down to drag the cup away from him. "I'm sorry, i didn't think you had to drink it slow." A pinkish hue covers Seonghwa's neck. "I don't like coffee usually...." He trails off.

"Seonghwa." Jaxson's voice is gentle, Seonghwa wonders if he's gotten sad somehow. "Why are you working here? You don't like Coffee and you absolutely suck dick at making it. So why?" Jax hops on the counter once again and Seonghwa has to avert his eyes from the smaller male, intrusive thoughts invading his head. He shakes his head hoping to get rid of the thought like an etch and sketch. Anywhere but his eyes is better, does he not think before talking? Seonghwa thinks. "I, like most people in the world need money. This quaint little coffee shop so happened to be the only one hiring. So i had to get it before i ran out of money for rent. Why are you working here?" A question for a question, fair enough right? "I like the aesthetic of this place, it's calming to me. And it pays fairly well." The two sit in silence, sipping their respective drinks, only sharing glances at one another.

"Say whats on your mind pretty boy, You've been looking at me with a question in your eyes." Seonghwa smirks, only making Jaxson blush harder from the nickname. God he wished Seonghwa would use a different name. "Sorry. I was just wondering where you used to work before here. "

"I worked in a tattoo shop." He crosses his arms, the drink from before long since drained. "It was a pretty good gig too, i was the only apprentice that was allowed to work on people, plus i got half off tattoo's...if i let them do it drunk." Seonghwa looks up into the air, a meloncholy smile on his face. "It was the best job of my life."

"Can i ask you another question, if you don't mind." He lets out an approving sound, not bothering to look down. "If you were so happy....Why leave?" Jax realizes he's touched a soft spot when Seonghwa looks back at him, his eyes are hurting, hidden behind a small smile. "Aren't you just a nosy little one." He takes a deep breath "The old man that owned the shop passed, it was taken over by his daughter. She decided to turn it into a hair salon, kicking everyone that worked there out of a job. It was quite selfish of her, don't you think?"

Jaxson nods his head, wondering what it must have felt like to suddenly loose a friend and a means of living. Suddenly the cup of cold tea is more intriguing than the saddened face of Seonghwa. "My turn~" Said man sings out, tipping Jaxson's head up with his finger. "When can i take you out on a date?"

"O-oh, you were serious about that......."

"Why wouldn't i be?" Jax pulls away from him, hopping down to begin cleaning dishes. "Because i don't like dates." Seonghwa takes the cup out of his hand. "So, don't think of it as a date. Think it as if were just a couple of friends hanging out for an afternoon." A sarcastic chuckle leaves Jax's lips. "But it's still a date."

"Will you at least give it a shot? If you don't enjoy yourself in the first fifteen minutes i'll even take you home." Both of them stop movement, Jaxson wondering why Seonghwa is so hellbent on getting him to go on a date. "Fine. Only fifteen minutes, where will you be taking me?" Jax snatches the mug back from Seonghwa. "That." He pokes Jaxson's nose "Is for me to know and you to find out, tomorrow at two?"

"If you mean a.m. then hell no."

***********

Seonghwa had in fact not meant two am, but precisely when the autumn's sun hits Jaxson's glasses just right to blind him. Where even was Seonghwa? He had told Jaxson to meet him in front of the Cafe five minutes early just in case he got there before.

He hadn't.

He hadn't shown up the first five minutes after the intended meet time. Where the hell was he? Turning the corner onto the Cafe street, the loud motorcycle that was annoying Jax approached in front of the Cafe. Only once the rider pulled off his helmet did he realize Seonghwa was the knight under the mask. A knight wearing a leather jacket to reveal a blue floral shirt tucked into black skinny jeans with no chains this time. Instead he's swapped them out for makeup smudged onto his face, making him seem even more attractive than he already is. "You expect me to get on that? Wearing this." He motions to his outfit, denim jeans, a striped sweater and sneakers. Obviously not appropriate apparel for a Motorcycle. "You'll be fine pretty boy. Hop on." Seonghwa pats the seat behind him, pulling out a second helmet. "The five minutes i spent waiting count against your time."

"The ride doesn't though, Deal?"

Jaxson wishes the ride would have counted against Seonghwa, they've been driving for the past thirty minutes on the highway. He swears Seonghwa's speeding on purpose for Jax to have to cling onto his torso so the small boy wouldn't fly off the bike. Once the bike ride was finally starting to be bearable, it stops. "We here?" A chuckle from Seonghwa. "Do you think i stopped here for gas?" It's an aquarium, It could be worse, it could be a movie theater. "C'mon, i wanna show you a lot here."

A lot he did show Jaxson, from river bass to sharks in a dive tank. He even payed for the extra experiences like holding hermit crabs or feeding the sea turtle from a pole. Jaxson has to admit, he is having fun; he didn't leave two hours ago when the fifteen minutes were up. "Oh, c'mon we're at the touch tank!" Seonghwa Pulls Jaxson through sliding doors to a room with quite a large touch tank in the middle. In it are stingrays of all sizes. He leaves momentarily to come back with two small cups of something foul smelling. "We can feed them by hand." Seonghwa hands the cup of sardines to Jaxson, not waiting for him to grab one before taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "Just put it between your knuckles, their teeth are on their bellies so don't be afraid."

Easy for him to say as he seems to have no fear towards the slimy sea pancakes, his arm is already submerged past his elbow, getting his rolled up sleeve wet. "This big one i named Calvin. Say hi Calvin." The large stingray swims on the bottom to take the fish from his human friend. He even lets Seonghwa give him rubs and pit pats. It's quite cute to see him acting so young and happy. "Well go on, the worst that can happen is one of them tickle you."

Jaxson mustered up the courage to roll up his sleeves, only dipping his hand about forearm deep. Shortly a small sea pancake fly's over and goes straight for the fish. Thanking the boy by flapping his wings against his arm. More cute giggles coming from Seonghwa. The more fish he goes through, Jaxon finds himself moving closer and closer to Seonghwa. Eventually the two are brushing hands, Seonghwa startles him by grabbing ahold of it. "If you wanted to hold hands you could have asked." He smiles, not one of shitery or mockery. But a genuine smile, directed at Jaxson.

A warm tingle pricks both of their arms, on the verge of being hot. "Look." Jaxson points to their interlocked arms. A white snake being engraved into the knot of his black snake. The opposite of Seonghwa. He freaks out and pulls his arm out of the water to inspect the new tattoo. "Wha-"

"Mommy Mommy look! They got their soul-mark!" A little girl bounces next to them, pulling on her mother's arm. "Is that what this is?"

"It looks like it." Seonghwa hands a paper towel to the smaller of them. "Wanna go get dinner?" It took some convincing but Jax finally agreed to go to dinner, there they talked about what it meant, and how Jaxson could have possibly missed the white snake in the cluster of Seonghwa's tattoo's. It is the only white tattoo he has after all.

A/N: This feels kinda bad compared to my other works but my friend who read it over says it quite nice. (They prefer to remain anon) Jax bub i hope you liked this. I had some troubles making it but i think it's okay. Remember to like and reblog if you're reading this on tumlr