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sshbpodcast · 25 days ago

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Discovery Season 2: Mystery boxes all the way down

By Ames

I was so proud of myself for writing up a wrap-up post for Discovery season one in which I tried to keep as objective and unbiased as possible. You can barely tell I’m not a big Discovery fan! This season, I don’t know if I can pull it off. Sure, there’s a lot to like about the sophomore season of Discovery, but dang y’all. There’s also just a lot. Period. It’s an overwhelming season if you’re trying to follow all the tangled plot threads and new characters that mostly get dropped and twist after twist after twist until I’m catatonic, propped up in front of the sensory overload of a season finale, muttering to myself and drooling.

But I said I was going to try to be objective and unbiased, especially since not all the A Star to Steer Her By hosts share my distaste with this very convoluted time-traveling plot. So like last time, instead of our normal top and bottom episodes (there are only 14 in total this time!), we’re going to discuss some highlights and lowlights from this Red Angel season. You can read on below or listen to our impassioned debate on the podcast (blast to timestamp 1:02:45 for the season chatter) to see if you, unlike me, can make any sense of this plot before you’re sent 900 years into the future.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Highlights

More science, less war!

If last season’s overall plot felt dark and bleak, this season does more embracing of exploration and science. This is a show called Discovery, after all; it’s nice to see them discovering things. Setting things up by investigating a scientific phenomenon certainly helped. The whole sphere story in “An Obol for Charon” is a great example of using the show to tell stories that feel like the kind of optimistic science fiction that people were really looking for and not finding in season one.

It’s also a breath of fresh air to see Starfleet officers being more ethical this time around. They immediately jump to help May’s people in “Saints of Imperfection,” a far cry from torturing tardigrades and calling prisoners animals a year ago. We’ve also got to praise “New Eden” for giving us that episodic Trek nostalgia of going on an away mission and objectively investigating a new culture, even if Michael was condescending the whole time.

Sonequa acts her ass off

This series threw everything and the kitchen sink at Sonequa Martin-Green and she rolled with it! Especially in the emotional roller coaster “The Red Angel,” in which she battles with the idea that she’s going to turn out to be the titular Red Angel, learns the truth about Project Daedalus from Leland, has to go through some absolutely bananas torture and death scenes, and then gets reunited with her mother absolutely out of nowhere (or out of the future, I guess). Does Michael cry too much throughout the season? Yeah maybe, but she just does it so well!

Pike is instantly likeable

Considering that Anson Mount was given the herculean task of portraying the legacy character Captain Christopher Pike, we were onboard from the first introduction. Pike has climbed to the top of a lot of people’s Best Captain lists because he is so charismatic, he treats his crew like people, he’s always cool as a cucumber (who else can pull off taglines like “Hit it”?), and his compassion is off the charts. When we see in “Through the Valley of Shadows” that Pike accepts the distressing fate we all know awaits him per “The Menagerie,” we can rest assured that this is a leader who will do what’s right for the good of the many.

Ethan Peck had some big ears to fill

Our other legacy characters in Spock and Number One were also handled pretty dang well. Especially Spock, who had the added constraint of skirting elements of the canon, sometimes with success and sometimes less so, as you’ll see in our Season Lowlights section. But Ethan Peck still nails Spock’s curiosity, reserve, and dual nature. The way his relationship with Michael develops throughout the season, from contentious and cruel to supportive and loving, was actually one of the better-paced elements of the back half of the season. And how damn pretty was he with that beard? I just wish he could nail the eyebrow.

Saru is still the GOAT

Our collective fave from season one is even more interesting in season two! Doug Jones is always a treat, and his acting in Saru’s near-death scene in “An Obol for Charon” is stunning. Even if you know they’re not about to kill off a main character, you forget for a minute that he has plot armor. And after his threat ganglia have fallen off, Saru’s character journey begins its new chapter. What was a character who used to be afraid of everything all the time and advocate much safer plans (usually running away!) is now a character who is learning to become more impulsive with a new perspective on how to perform on a team.

Unbury your gays

Another character who is learning a lot about his new self is Hugh Culber, who is back from the dead. The manner in which he comes back in “Saints of Imperfection” is absolutely ludicrous (I didn’t follow a word of the technobabble surrounding the spore cocoon thing), but we must admit that it was nice of the writers to undo the bury your gays trope that left a lot of people with a sour taste in their mouths. This opens up a lot of substantial character work for this doctor who, admittedly, had almost nothing to do in season one except die. Witnessing the scenes in which Wilson Cruz beautifully portrays Culber’s struggle with identity was phenomenal.

An engineer with a side of sass

We loved Jett Reno! Whenever an episode didn’t have Jett Reno, we were definitely asking, “Where’s Jett Reno?” There was not enough of Tig Notaro’s sarcastic yet brilliant engineer this season, but what we did get was a whole lot of fun. Unlike some of the comedy that comes out of various other characters, her jokes have the greatest tendency to work. She’s also just plain brilliant, able to keep her Hiawatha crewmates alive with duct tape and gumption. And you just can’t turn down more representation of LGBT characters in Trek! Happy Pride, y’all!

Amanda isn’t just a trad wife

Though we’ve seen little bits and pieces of Amanda Grayson over the years, it’s almost always been in service to either her husband Sarek or her son Spock. Getting more dimensions to this human among Vulcans colors in more of her character. She’s not content to just sit idly by while Spock is in danger, as we learn in “Light and Shadows” when she has him holed up in some caves to keep out of the hands of Starfleet or Section 31. Plus look how well dressed this wife of an ambassador is. Desperate Housewife she is not, but fashion icon she definitely is.

More Kelpiens = more good

We meet Saru’s sister Siranna in “The Sound of Thunder” and she’s immediately really cool. The whole Kelpien race fascinates me, and their relationship with their predator species introduces some interesting elements to the show. It allows Saru and Pike to debate the Prime Directive a bit, something we always love doing on this podcast. What else is the Federation around for if not to help oppressed people? And the Ba’ul’s whole drama queen vibe proves just so fun to watch, from their boggy design to their guttural language to the way they always know how to make an entrance.

The other bridge characters get something to do!

Okay, this one was a low bar, but last season we didn’t even clear it. The rest of the bridge crew were practically interchangeable, and if they had names, no one knew them. But now Joann Owosekun gets another trait in “New Eden” when we learn that she hails from a community of luddites (which is so interesting we wish it got explored more!). The little montage of people, including Owo and Detmer, writing farewell messages in “Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 1” also gives them some much needed characterization. And Airiam having to upload her individual memories to the cloud in “Project Daedalus” was practically Black Mirror levels of sci-fi… but we’ll get back to her later.

We get to make googoo eyes at the Enterprise

We gushed last season over the aesthetics of the Discovery, but when the Enterprise rolls in, we realize that’s what we really want. The uniforms are way better than the Discovery uniforms, coming in the bright departmental colors we’re all accustomed to from The Original Series. You can tell what division/rank everyone is more easily with the colors and the bars on the sleeves (when they remember to CG them in) instead of on the combadge, which was a damn mistake.

The ship itself is a loving update to the familiar design. We’ve talked up this version of the Enterprise before when we covered Starfleet vessels, but this one is definitely a highlight. The bridge is definitely an improvement over the Discovery’s giant, dark cavern of a set. When we see it in “Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 1,” we definitely find it more intimate and bright, though the colors and lights do make it feel like you’re inside a pinball machine.

Back to the future!

The choice to end the season by going to the future is commendable. Some could argue that’s where they should have started this whole show from the onset, but that may just be me. Prequels are just inherently hamstringing. The established canon can really limit your options; and conversely, breaking canon always results in alienating fans. So we’re looking forward to what options for creativity have opened up for our heroes 900 years forward. Having more advanced technology will make more sense. We’ll be able to explore more alien cultures without wondering why we’ve never met them before. The galaxy is their oyster. Yum yum.

—

Lowlights

1+1+2+1…

While I just praised this season for sending us into the future at the end, I struggled the hardest of any Trek to follow the rest of the time-traveling plot arc. Some of the confusion can probably be blamed on the switcheroo of showrunners that happened in the middle of things, which sure didn’t help. And due to the usual pacing issues of a lot of streaming television (Surf Dracula, anyone?), the episodes careen headlong to an ultimately exhausting ending. Everything is explained at breakneck speed so that you can’t think about it because if you do, you’ll be three scenes behind.

So… somehow seven red signals appear simultaneously despite being across many lightyears AND then again later for the Discovery to visit individually AND then again whenever the Red Angel appears? Somehow it’s all convenient and convoluted at the same time—which is the real magic of time travel! It’s both a bootstrap paradox and an alternate timeline at the same time!!

Who’s the biggest Mary Sue in Star Trek?

Michael Burnham gets a lot of flak for getting buffed into the Most Important Character in the Universe™, especially starting this season. One day we’ll have the debate on the podcast over who the biggest Mary Sue in Star Trek is (my money’s on Sisko or Spock), but the writers aren’t doing Burnham many favors when time and time again everyone gushes about how important she is.

Regardless of if you think Burnham’s a Mary Sue or not, her crewmates sure act like she is! In “Project Daedalus” Airiam tells us Michael is at the center of all this; Spock and Michael decide she’s the lynchpin in “The Red Angel”; Control inexplicably lures Michael specifically to the derelict Section 31 ship because she’s so vital in “Through the Valley of Shadows”; and Spock basically praises Michael as the messiah all throughout the two parts of “Such Sweet Sorrow.” Even when we learn that the Red Angel is Gabrielle Burnham in “Perpetual Infinity,” somehow Michael is still the better Red Angel because she saves the day so miraculously that even the wormhole aliens would find it contrived.

“Make it look like a movie”

I said this last season too and I could pretty much cut and paste the same lesson here: less is more. The aspect ratio this season has even widened from 2:1 to 2.39:1 to make it look more like a movie. But why? Not only are all the camera tricks dizzying and distracting, but it seems like every piece of tech this season is a transformer. The floor corkscrews down to a lower level. The asteroid catcher unfolds like CGI origami. We see the unfathomable turbolift netherspace. The characters’ spacesuits just appear on them. All that’s in “Brother” alone! And where the hell did the Jacob’s Ladder’ing shaft, the thousands of shuttles and drones, and the DOT-7 repair droids we see in “Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 2” come from??? It’s all such overkill just to make the series look cinematic when Trekkies are usually perfectly fine accepting an obvious sound stage like in TOS’s “The Empath.”

Tilly regressed into a manic Sonia Gomez

Remember how last season we praised Tilly’s subtle character growth? Well, this season the writers forgot about that and decided they needed to establish in every single one of her appearances that she’s manic and awkward and babbling, even when she’s not even central to the scene! She ham-fistendly injects herself into conversations, disrupting the flow of scenes, and generally getting on our nerves. They had the perfect opportunity to help her character develop by being in the command training program, but then that idea went nowhere and seemed to get dropped in favor of her delivering goofy one-liners all the time.

Wakka wakka!

Tilly isn’t the only one delivering lots of dorky one-liners. There are so many cringey jokes this season! From Tilly’s “This is the power of math, people!” to Spock’s “I like science,” to Burnham and Spock’s “Hamlet, hell yeah,” the quippiness of the dialogue does not land. Possibly the absolute worst offender is Nhan’s “Yum yum” in “Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 2,” which sounds like something a novice writer would put in a YA novel with an entire lack of subtlety and nuance. Each line sticks out like so many sore thumbs.

Linus, for that matter, is introduced solely to be a joke. When we meet him in “Brother,” it really feels like Discovery’s reaction to The Orville getting more attention in some Star Trek circles at the time. This funny alien lizard sneezing on the Mean Guy™ could literally have been a joke from the Seth MacFarlane–driven comedy show; like, seriously, cover your mouth, asshole!

And then Georgiou turns up out of nowhere just to be a quip machine. Like Tilly, she’s required to have at least one sardonic retort in every scene she’s in to underline that she’s evil. Which reminds me…

The depraved bisexual trope

One of the most awkwardly acted scenes in the whole season is the one in which Emperor Georgiou is teasing Stamets and Culber mercilessly in “The Red Angel.” “Don’t be so binary,” she taunts. “In my universe, he was pansexual and we had DEFCON-level fun together. And you, too, Papi.” It's so cringey and the actors don’t seem to know how to deliver it. At this point, the only bisexual characters we’ve really established in Trek (other than the Trill, which are their own things) are villains from the mirror universe using their sexual orientation to depict how evil they are (there’s a whole tv trope about it), especially compared to their straight, respectable prime-universe counterparts. What a strangely regressive depiction for Trek to include in 2019.

The magical disabled person trope

You know what else comes across as kind of gross and unprogressive (and also has its own tv tropes page)? Using Spock’s disability as a magical power. Spock having l’tak terai is fine on its own, and can even serve as solid representation to include and accommodate characters with learning disabilities, but then we find out that his Vulcan dyslexia was established only to advance the plot. Making a disability into a magic power is pretty often looked upon disparagingly by the disabled community, who would rather just be allowed to exist as they are. We’ll never see Spock’s l’tak terai come up again; it only existed to get them out of a problem.

Did we really need the Talosians?

Here’s another element that only exists to get the crew out of a problem. The Talosians in “If Memory Serves” were only there for one reason: to magically advance the plot. Scratch that. Two reasons: to magically advance the plot AND to make the fans wank because they recognized a thing. And wank they did! This is a generally positively reviewed episode because people liked seeing the Talosians, but we really wondered why they were here other than as a reference. They magically solve the problem and advance the plot, but they don’t earn it. They aren’t characters; they’re member berries.

Airiam, we hardly knew ye

Speaking of things that aren’t earned: Airiam’s whole sacrifice episode. Anyone familiar with television could tell once they started filling in her backstory in “Project Daedalus” that meant they were going to kill her off by the end (another tv trope!). And it’s such a crying shame because her backstory is so good! The idea of her surviving a horrible accident by being installed into a cyborg body is damn cool! Her uploading memories to the cloud, as mentioned above, is excellent sci-fi! And her death scene is fucking stunning! But when I should be feeling devastated at the loss of a beloved character, I only feel rage that we didn’t get ANYTHING before this episode to get to know her. How hard would that have been???

Everything’s a soap opera

So many decisions are for the sake of drama this season of Trek. The whole Klingon soap opera in “Point of Light” feels absolutely unnecessary to us. Excise that whole episode and you’re not missing anything because we’re absolutely done with Klingons after last season. Relatedly, there’s exactly no reason why Tenavik has to be L’Rell and Tyler’s kid in “Through the Valley of Shadows.” It doesn’t pay off in any way. Cut it.

The only consequence from the Klingon plot that has bearing on the rest of the season is that Ash Tyler leaves Qo’noS to join Section 31, which is all too convenient. And then he’s only stationed on the Discovery to add drama to any scenes with Stamets and Culber and to remind us that he and Michael like to smooch despite having no chemistry. Cut it.

And then the Klingons show up in “Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 2” with the Kelpiens somehow, just so Saru and Siranna can say goodbye? Contrived. Laughable. Cut it.

In non-Klingon drama, the reveal during “If Memory Serves” of what Burnham did to Spock as a child was a massive letdown. The show had been building up to this giant revelation all season because it takes forever to find Spock, and then when we finally find him, we learn that Michael just pulled a Harry and the Hendersons on him and then neither of them talked for, what, twenty-five years? Cut! It!

Optional materials aren’t optional

I really liked the Short Treks episodes that precluded this season. They were nice to exist as little stories in their own bubbles. And then they turned out to tie directly into this season, and I’ve got to be honest: I liked them a little less! “The Sound of Thunder” needed a whole recap of “The Brightest Star” to provide the context for the Kelpiens’ relationship with the Ba’ul. If you didn’t see or have access to that Short Trek, then at least the episode mostly filled you in, but you wouldn’t have the full picture.

Even more blatant was bringing in Queen Po in “Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 1.” They write away who she is in a rapidly spoken Tilly-babbling line, but there’s absolutely no context if you missed “Runaway.” People were asking online after the Discovery episode if they were supposed to know who this character was because her inclusion was reliant on you seeing the Short Trek AND they don’t explain it.

For that matter, I’m curious how much sense “If Memory Serves” makes for fans not familiar with “The Menagerie.” It makes me wonder who this show is for if it’s inaccessible to new viewers. Shrug.

Once more for the neckbeards in the back

Finally, there was just too much from this season that was obviously in response to fan rage from season one. I already mentioned that Linus is just a joke from The Orville. We also see hack writing like introducing Connolly in “Brother” specifically to kill him off as if it’s a statement to the fans about bad-faith criticism or something. Guys, never respond to internet trolls.

For some reason, the writers also decided to retcon some of things that fans complained about. Pike is adamantly anti-hologram because by the time we get to TOS there isn’t holocommunication anymore even though this show had it. The Klingons grow their hair back out with the pathetic cover line that they shave their heads during times of war—something we’ve never seen before—but people hated the Klingon redesign so much they fixed it. And finally, it’s just so ham-fisted that “Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 2” needs to spell out that we’ll never speak of the Discovery, the spore drive, and Michael Burnham again and that’s why none of the other series mention them! These writers buckled like the neck of the Klingon Sarcophagus ship and it shows.

—

Okay, I was definitely less charitable this time, but you can see where I got hung up quite a lot. We look forward to seeing if next season’s jump to the future fares any better for our Discovery watch through, which you can follow along with on SoundCloud (or wherever you like listening to podcasts), and make sure you’re following along with this blog for more Tilly babble. You can also share your Red Angel conspiracy theories with us on Facebook and Bluesky, and remember: if it’s got a page on tv tropes, you probably shouldn’t do it.

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oldwritingm · 1 year ago

Note

love your writings :)

can i get a uhh...

morro x reader who was around when he was wu's student, and after he left waited for him everyday and night to see if he would come back?

and was obviously there to see him during ghosty arc

just some hurt/comfort please

Of course dear! I actually had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy!! ^^

Word count: 1.2k

Ninjago - Waiting For Your Morro

Nights like these bothered you. The air—just cold enough to nip your cheeks as it gently breezed by—held a silence that left you to your thoughts. Your brows were furrowed deeply as you stared out into the darkness. Why did you keep doing this? Would you ever get what you were looking for?

You shook your head at the thought. You had to keep hope; that’s what you told yourself. That’s what you always told yourself.

You looked down at your hand, opening and closing it slowly to get some blood flowing. You wished there was a hand to hold, a hand you’d been longing for for years. The hand of your first and only love, Morro.

You closed your eyes, filling your lungs with the chilled air.

“Y/n, watch me!”

“I’m watching!”

Morro was grinning hugely, glancing between you and the kite in the air. He made the thing dance like it was alive, and you marveled at the sight.

“Wow, Morro! Are you doing that?”

“Yeah! It’s my power: wind. That’s what Wu told me.”

“You’re so cool! You’re gonna grow up to be a really powerful ninja one day. Just don’t forget me when that happens, ‘kay?”

“I’ll never forget you, Y/n.”

You remembered the sincerity in his eyes when he said those words. It had been mixed with the innocent eagerness that characterized his youth; you recalled how his round, childish face used to shine when he talked about his powers. Morro had wanted nothing more than to be powerful; he knew nothing would make his beloved Master Wu more proud.

You smiled bitterly as you recalled that aspect of him, the part that was always seeking the wise old man’s approval. The smile turned into a frown as you traced your memories onward, conjuring up a painful scene:

“Morro, are you okay?”

Morro was quiet. He was hunched over on the bottom step of the monastery, his knees curled up against his chest and his chin planted on his knees. His eyes were puffy and red, and when you spoke fresh tears brimmed those soulful eyes.

“Wu says I’m not the Green Ninja.”

“Oh, Morro…” You crouched down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry. But you don’t have to be the Green Ninja to be powerful. I still think you’re the most power—”

“He’s wrong!” Morro snapped, jumping up so abruptly that you were sent sprawling on your side. You looked up at him with owlish eyes, horrified at this rage that you’d scarcely seen in him before. That was the first time you thought that something might seriously be wrong.

There was venom, not ambition, in his eyes when he said: “I’m going to prove him wrong.”

That was the last image you could conjure of Morro. He devoted himself to his training, leaving you in the dust. You never blamed him, though. You knew he was only chasing the one thing he cared about; that being Wu’s high opinion of him. He was just… misguided. He’d chosen a bad route that he believed would reach that end, but in reality it only drove him to his downfall. Your heart had broken at his plight when he discovered he wasn’t the Green Ninja, but the pieces withered to nothing when you found out he died chasing his twisted goals.

You hadn’t known what to do with yourself then. Morro, the boy you’d known for so long, the one you’d always hoped would get back on the right path, was dead. You’d never see him again. You’d never see that sweet face, so ambitious and eager—but you’d have killed even to see the corrupted version of him that you didn’t quite recognize. You just wanted him back.

Then, years later, one of the greatest—and yet worst—days of your life:

“Wu, you seem troubled.”

The man stroked his beard, glancing around as if making sure you two were alone. “Morro is back.”

You dropped the tray of tea you’d been carrying, sending the pieces to shatter on the ground. Your hands covered your mouth, muffling the sob that came a moment later. Wu had put a supportive hand on your shoulder, explaining the situation gently.

When all was said, you stared at the ground with conflicted feelings swirling in your gut like Morro’s beautiful gusts of wind. You weren’t sure what to feel.

Was it really your Morro that came back?

Your frown deepened. You had the answer already; you’d known it then, and you knew it now. That Morro was not the bright boy you once treasured. He was cruel. He was ruthless. But, most of all, he hated Wu. That could never be your Morro. And yet, that last time you saw him…

You had boarded Wu’s dragon, desperate for what you knew would be your last shot at getting Morro back. He was being dangled above the water, wrapped in the grotesque tentacle of the Preeminent. If he were submerged… it would all be over. As much as you probably should’ve hoped for that, with all the destruction he’d caused, you couldn’t bring yourself to pray upon the downfall of Morro.

Wu extended his hand, assuring Morro that he was still his star pupil, that all his pupils were his stars. Morro had reached to grasp it, and you started to see the Morro you knew once more. Hope exploded in your chest as they grasped hands firmly, and Wu began to pull. You held his upper arm, trying to help the man pull, but Morro was locked in place.

Suddenly, he smiled. Suddenly, your Morro was back. Suddenly, your eyes were teary and your limbs were weak.

“You can only save those who want to be saved,” he said. He looked directly at you then, his smile growing sad. “Y/n, you’re as wonderful as I remember you being. I’m glad that the last thing I’ll see is your beautiful face.”

You shrieked, throwing yourself forward in a futile attempt to stop him from what you knew he was about to do.

“Goodbye.”And then he was gone again.

Your eyes were wet with tears, and you dabbed them angrily with your sleeve. Why did he give up so easily? Why did he give up on you? You waited every day for him to return, and he didn’t hesitate for one second when you finally had a chance at being together again.

But, as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t hate him for it. You waited years. You’d wait more. He came back once. Why not again?

So you stared into the night, looking up to prevent any more tears from falling. You calmed your quivering breaths by admiring the stars above.

“Perhaps one day you will be reunited,” a quiet voice came from behind you. You felt a hand on your shoulder, warm and papery with age. You turned your head slightly to look at Wu over your shoulder, nodding with a smile that was at once sad and hopeful.

“Some pairs are ordained in the stars—the universe,” he continued, looking at the stars as if he could read them like Ninjargon. Then he looked at you, a mystic twinkle in his almond eyes. “I don’t doubt that you and Morro are one such pair.”

Your smile stayed on your face, but now you were fighting back tears. You cursed the old man through sorrowful laughter, looking down to hide your face. He moved forward to stand beside you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your upper arm comfortingly. You accepted the gesture by leaning your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the night, just watching, waiting for your Morro to come home.

Thank you so much for this request! And thanks for reading, take care doves <33

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #morro #morro ninjago #morro x reader #ninjago fanfiction

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rainbowsndshitig · 11 months ago

Text

Castiel and his flowers for dean (fluff / comedy)

quick a/n: this is another that is based on an idea i got from a pin on pintrest (image will be at the bottom) hope you enjoy <3

It's no secret that Castiel takes joy in the smaller things in life, such as bees or for this specific example, flowers.

On the rare chance he isn't busy helping the Winchesters with one of their missions (or some other obscure thing they find to do), he explores and collects things he enjoys, often bringing things back for the boys, mainly Dean.

One example being the time Castiel brought back flowers (and a little bee friend unknowingly) for Dean and decided to try and write a note he would find most humorous.

The note read:

'Dean, ever since I ROSE you from hell I have grown a strong LILAC for you.'

When he came back and gave it to Dean with a huge smile, very obviously proud of himself, he was surprised at deans reaction.

Dean cocked his head to the side and looked at Castiel "whats this?"

"It's for you."

Dean started to read the note, getting halfway before the bee started to harass him.

"What the hell?!" Dean dropped the flowers and started to swat at the bee frantically, backing away, "Castiel, what the hell?! Where did this bee come from?!"

"Oh, I'm not…entirely sure…" Castiel turned his head in thought, there hadn't been any bees on the flowers last he knew…

Dean eventually ended up hitting and killing it, catching his breath, shaking his head in frustration.

"Poor thing…"

"Yeah, I agree, I was a victim of that awful bee!"

"No, not you dean, the bee…" Castiel frowned.

Dean rolled his eyes before picking the flowers back up to finish reading the note.

"…cas what does this even mean?"

"They are roses and lilacs."

"No, the." Dean huffed, " the note."

"Oh. I thought it was very funny. Why? Are you not happy with them?"

Dean put the flowers to the side, and then his face in his hands, to hide his smile. "Oh my god."

"Um dean, I don't see what my father has to do with this..?" Castiel looked at dean confused.

"Cas please you're going to kill me with this, I don't mean your literal father."

"Oh. Right. John damn it, I am always forgetting these things."

"…cas I appreciate the flowers but I think this is where I'm drawing the line." Dean dropped his hands and looked back up at the man in front of him.

"You said we weren't meaning each other's literal fathers."

Dean took a deep, long breath in and closed his eyes, slowly exhaling before calmly explaining, "…Your father is a GOD and what i said was a phrase, what you said was just…weird…"

Castiel glanced from side to side, unamused, "And you humans say we have no sense of humor."

"Okay Listen here, you sonofabitch-" dean pointed a finger at Castiel.

"Uh hey guys? Can you not right now? I'm, you know, kind of busy?" Sam said, side eyeing them. "I'm trying to focus on our next case, so if you guys could stop your make out fest- or at least take it outside, it would be much appreciated, thanks." He finished, pressing his lips together in a line in a unamused (unamoosed.) fashion.

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered "make out fest" in a mocking way. "Yeah right."

"What is a make out fest?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned about right now, why don't you go find some more flowers and play with more bee's buddy." Dean patted Castiel on the shoulder and gently shoved him in the direction of the door. "Sam is right. Cases need to be worked on."

"Oh." Castiel looked down.

"Here, I'll walk you out."

The two walked out of the motel, Dean resting his hand on the angels shoulder.

"And um.. Please dont bring back any bee's this time, at least not inside the motel. I really appreciate the flowers, cas."

(Dean wouldn't put them in water, he'd flatten and dry them out so he could keep them for longer and you can't convince me otherwise. But if anyone ever found out he'd be very "I don't know what you're talking about" about it.)

(He totally did the same for when he and Sam were kids btw.)

A/n: ik it isn't the same but they have similar themes and like I said, it inspired me so I feel like I should still put it here (: ↓

#spnfandom #spn #sam and dean #dean winchester #deancas #dean x castiel #castiel #jimmy novak #sam winchester #Unamoosed #moose #Samoose is what I'm saying.#spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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goingpostal1980 · 9 months ago

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The world MUST know about this.

If you're wondering who owns your copy of The Catcher in The Rye, it's me. I legally own all copies. My collection spans lifetimes.

Let's start off by saying... the real 'atrocity' is the spelling in this document. And total lack of any apparent sense... The world has to know what they've put me through... Everyone I know has already seen this. I'm very proud. I was ecstatic to receive this letter.

More than 8... less than 25. 25 is a little too far, do we think?

So I was put on the terrorist register for this... but it's okay because they took me back off. Pretty badass, right?

Tumbler is like my diary. It's so easy to post here. I love Tumbler.

Anyway, I felt so pathologized by this. And what a loss of dignity. The only way to combat this is to share it in a way that makes me feel that I have regained power... Is posting medical documents on the internet all good with you?

Note the logo at the bottom of this next picture. 'Young people friendly'. Funny.

The letter I sent the Psychosis Team about my life story was 5 pages long and contained printed excerpts from my journals spanning back to 2022. This didn't help. I guess I'll update you all on Wednesday.

Some have said my life is like a performance art project, I guess you could say that. I care a lot about my Public Image. It's important to Keep Up Appearances. Everyone, EVERYONE is sick of this stuff. It's too late now to stop, though.

Droped as a kid innit.

This lady asked me, 'Do you Google instructions on how to make bombs?'

I told them I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't currently self harm, I don't speak to strangers online, I don't have any social media, I don't have the means to make a bomb or cause destruction in any way, and I have no solid plans to do so. I told them 2026 and they put 2025. They sent me for an MRI scan. There was no MRI scan, just an interview with a Malay doctor who was shorter than me who asked me terribly worded questions... 'What do you hallucinate?' 'How many times a day does this happen?' (If I had a Malaysian Ringgit for every time I've been asked that)

I told the school nurse I was hearing voices telling me to hurt the people around me. I was told my self harm was superficial. I was told I had 'Generalized Anxiety Disorder' and 'Depression'. The family did not find CAMHS helpful at this time...

She asked me the HEADSS assessment questions - a psychosocial tool used on teenagers. My mother turns to me and asks me, 'Are you going to tell her..? About the... John Lennon stuff?' ...I tell her no. It's irrelevant. Did they think I had a brain tumor? Like the Texas Tower Shooter? Like Charles Whitman?

H- Home and Environment

I told her I have a good relationship with my mother. I really do. I swear. I feel that throughout my entire life I have been neglected. Our house is a wreck. I will never forget the things that have been said to me throughout my life with her. I I don't know if I can fix the impact of what has happened to me.

E- Education and Employment

Yeah, I love College. I dropped out of school, innit. I guess that's cool. Thanks for asking.

A- Activities

I don't know what these are, to be totally honest.

D- Drugs

I love getting high. I was given magic mushrooms at a party when I was 14. I love smoking weed with my friend winking emoji. I love to drink. I drink once a week or more, hard liquor or beer or whatever I can find. I smoke every day. I'm not planning on quitting. I will take whatever I'm offered. I don't think it's cool. I told her I'm not interested in that kind of stuff.

S- Sexuality

No, this one's true. I'm the Super Virgin. N.F.I. Not Fucking Interested. Don't you think I have enough on my Plate?

S- Suicide and Depression

I told her the last time I self-harmed was last year, in Winter. I told her I used to have suicidal thoughts but I don't anymore because I love my life. They left me with no support over the Summer for 3 months this year and I almost died. Nobody's going to find out about that. She tested my reflexes and put her hand directly on top of my scars. Bloody hilarious, I thought, as I had a heart attack and nearly died on the spot. She told me I looked very uncomfortable. No, I don't want to die, really.

She had an absolutely abysmal bedside manner. She told me, when I saw that I had a patient with psychosis, I was so scared you'd be... violent or something. But you're so nice. Or something along those lines. They made me wait for almost an hour in the pediatric X-Ray ward surrounded by crying children and snot and my mother nearly went batshit crazy. She said there were too many broken bones. The pediatric neurologist told me she liked my hair. Twice. She said I was 'Beautiful and Well-Mannered'. Isn't that nice.

There's a lot more I could say. I'll save it for another time... isn't it funny? I think it's hilarious. That this has eaten up 2 years of my life now and there's no sign of it stopping. I have become dissilusioned with the concept of 'Mental Illness' after reading some Foucault. It didn't take much to convince me. The real problem is what's around me, not myself.

I'll tell you all about the other stuff another time.

#Stories #Made up Story #Catholic #Madness and Civilisation #Well mannered #Beautiful #huge natural breasts #planes #60s #america #bible #Salinger #J.D. Salinger #Art #John Lennon #Kill John Lennon #books #80s #Cringe and EDGY

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crescentmoonrider · 10 months ago

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Mother

Toji makes it out of the pit. Toji makes it out, alive and injured and hungry, and mother isn't here patch up his injuries. Not this time, not ever again. For the prompt : Busted Lip [ @badthingshappenbingo ]

read on AO3

or under the Read More, I’m not your boss

[ do mind that this fic features heavy descriptions of injuries]

It hurts.

It didn’t hurt quite as much when Toji made it out, maybe because of how excited he had been, tearing through curses with the savage joy of revenge and finally seeing the light of day, but now – now it hurts like hell.

The worm wriggles inside his stomach, and he fights the urge to throw up.

He couldn’t leave the little guy in there where it would just be exorcised, couldn’t get rid of it either, not when the knife it spit out was what gave Toji a chance to make it. Not when it does nothing, but eat what falls in front of it and call out for its mom.

So Toji does his best to keep the little guy hidden inside his stomach, does his best to stumble up to a room where he can take care of his wounds, maybe rest a bit before someone comes to bother him, maybe even eat something that isn’t a curse for the first time in… ah, how long was he in there ?

Given everyone’s faces when he walked out of the pit, he thinks they’ll at least leave him alone for a while.

Shit, it hurts so much.

He tracks blood across the dark floor of mother’s room, stains her dresser while looking for the first aid supplies she used to keep for him.

Usually, she would tell him to sit in the entrance and not touch anything until she’s done cleaning him up, lest it gets dirty. She would scold him, say they both know he will never make her proud, but if he could at least stop being such a disappointment it would be the least he could do, as her son.

“You’ll never win these fights anyway, Toji, so stop picking them,” she would say.

Not that he ever really picked fights so much as watched them fall in front of him. Last time was… last time was an exception.

He grinds his teeth. Feels his stomach jump to his throat in pain when the muscles of his jaw contract around the open wound that is his mouth.

He doesn’t know what it looks like, hasn’t looked yet, but he thinks… he thinks it’s pretty bad. All of his injuries probably are, honestly, but the way he feels his bottom lip kind of hanging uselessly on the right, in a way that would definitely dry up his mouth if it didn’t constantly fill with blood…

Yeah, that doesn’t sound good. Gonna have to sew up that one for sure, if he wants to eat.

Mother could have done pretty stitches, cleaned him up all good and stitched his wounds like she did when he got hurt real bad, even though she didn’t have to and he already hurt her enough by being born wrong.

“I can’t let you trouble anyone else,” she used to say while patching up whatever injuries he brought back that day, “since you’re my fault.”

Toji never really cared why she did it, honestly. He just liked how warm her hands were.

He undresses, wincing with each move, throat tearing up with deep, animalistic moans befitting of a monkey, as he pulls cloth out of open wounds and half dry blood.

Mother’s mirror on the dresser will do, he thinks as he grabs it and smears more blood on her things, blurring the image reflected in the glass to an unrecognizable shape.

Shit.

He tries his best to wipe it with the least bloody corner of his yukata, just enough to manage a check of what needs cleaning, what needs dressing, what needs sewing.

The blood in his left eye doesn’t help with seeing all of that, but – he squints. Holds the mirror, shakily angling it to look where it hurts most.

There are deep claw marks carved in the flesh of his right shoulder and breast, and he thinks he can even see a little bit of rib shining through one of the open wounds. That’s gonna need sewing. Same for his forearms, but he’s not sure how he’ll manage that. Maybe if he just dresses them tight enough, the gashes will close on their own ? There’s no bone showing there, so surely that’s a good thing.

His back and left side down to the thigh are just a mess. He thinks he remembers being caught by some, uh, sucking, octopus-looking, thing, and literally ripping himself from its grip to avoid getting eaten. Maybe that’s what did it. Maybe it was the corrosive spit of that weird-ass snake instead.

He guesses… ah, well, that’s already mostly done bleeding, and with how big this one is, he would have a better chance just embroidering all over the exposed flesh rather than try to sew it closed. Gonna have to clean it good, dress it good, and hope skin regrows on monkeys like it does for lizards.

Lizards regrow their skin, right ? They couldn’t shed it otherwise.

Hands and feet are fucked a normal amount, same for his knees. Running and crawling and scratching at the door in the hope he will somehow manage to dig his way out of this hell, he knows no one will open, not father – not father, he said himself he has no son, threw Toji in there himself like he should have eleven years ago instead of making everyone hurt – not mother – it’s Toji’s fault he knows, something he did had to be the last straw and that’s why she slit her throat and left only this dark stain on the floor that Toji can’t even see anymore – not anyone but himself and he tried so hard to just flee, and that’s when the octopus caught him by the back of the shoulder and he –

Hands and feet are fucked a normal amount. He’s missing, what, two nails ? He’ll live. Will be a pain to stitch up anything because of that, but it’s not like he was ever going to make it as pretty as mother did anyway.

His face is the real problem, as expected.

The black eye is fine, he’s had a few before, he knows how that goes, a few days of seeing weird and like a week more of looking ugly and he’s done. But his mouth…

The gash goes from the top of his cheek – missed the eyeball, thankfully – to the bottom of his jaw. Didn’t cut the bone, he thinks, but the right side of his mouth is just limp. He can see the gums through the open wound and under his bottom lip, thinks he can feel a chip in one tooth with his tongue too, follows it down to the gum and it stings, not just his jaw but his tooth too, like the root itself got exposed. Maybe it is.

There’s iron at the back of his throat, up his nose, blood dripping and spilling from the gash kept open by Toji’s spit, too diluted to coagulate.

Even if he manages to sew it all back up properly, can that thing even heal ?

Out of nowhere, he remembers one time Tadayoshi beat up his face and then made fun of Toji for being ugly afterwards. “A face only a mother could love,” he’d said. It made Toji laugh because he couldn’t understand what Tadayoshi meant by that. Which was the wrong answer, but then again, Toji never gives the right answers to anything.

Ah… should he try fixing it right now ? With his hands all fucked up and his stomach empty save for the worm, and his eye all busted ? He’s never gonna get mother’s pretty stitches right, but ugly scars aren’t the same if they’re on his shoulder or on his face.

On her face. Fath- Jin’ichi’s eye, but mother’s full lips, mother’s straight nose. Mother who he’s never gonna see ever again, mother who won’t ever clean his wounds with her warm hands and scold him for being a disappointment, mother whose blood is getting soiled by Toji’s again, spilling on the floor where the last trace of her body was.

He wants to throw up.

The worm hasn’t even moved.

Toji puts down the mirror. There’s fresh water in the room, mother never went out so the servants made sure she always had enough at all times. Tons of clean clothes inside mother’s closet, too, since there’s no way the first aid kit has enough gauze and bandages for this mess. Jin’ichi won’t like it, but what’s he gonna do ? Throw Toji back into the empty pit ? He doesn’t have a son, so Toji doesn’t have to act like one anymore.

And mother wouldn’t mind. She wanted Toji to only ever trouble her, so it’s fine if he uses what little is left of her until there’s nothing but ashes.

It’s fine. He’ll live, even if it hurts.

He’ll make it out.

He’s hungry.

#bad things happen bingo #jujutsu kaisen #yumi writes #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #child abuse #whump #injuries #jinichi is toji's dad in this fic #its sort of a follow-up to the ranta one #young toji my beloved 🥺#i saw this prompt and just #i knew what i had to do #anyway enjoy i guess

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tobiasdrake · 2 years ago

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The very last bauble. The very last hangout. As we move towards the conclusion to it all, we've heard from Vivia about what he wants us to bear in mind. Now it's time to hear what guidance Yakou has to offer us.

Oh, okay, we're gonna give him a pep talk. Disappointing to the very end, aren't you?

Really. We're really going to spend the last hangout yet again shilling the OTP that remains mired in the exact same place it was in way back in the Chapter 2 rooftop epilogue?

The answer, Yakou, is that it's not. Things are not going. There's been lots of blushing and lots of awkward pauses but nobody has said or done a single thing yet because writers despise romance despite how hard they try to inject it into their stories.

Ooh, Yuma doesn't know but that is a painful question.

*spit take* NOT SOMETHING TO BRAG ABOUT, FUCKING HELL.

God fucking dammit man. Even if you're making it up, "I was so great at cheating, you wouldn't even BELIEVE" is a terrible thing to make up. It doesn't need to be true to reflect poorly on your values.

I'm going straight back to the homunculus testing site so I can push you dipshit ass off a cliff.

This is the worst final hango--

Why was that Fubuki's final conversation topic!? Ew ew ew ew DX

This is the second-worst final hangout!

...wait.

Hold up.

Is he talking about actual kittens?

Or that, I suppose. Still, the way he chose to play this up has caused my opinion of him to nonetheless sink lower. It's not about whether he did or did not "three- or four-time". It's about the fact that he considers the image he tried to sell to be an admirable presentation of masculinity in the first place.

"LOL It's so cute how they'd get jealous whenever they'd find out about my other girlfriends!" This kind of casual misogyny is exactly the kind of behavior that makes me loathe "guy talk". Men will take one look at you, see a kindred bro, and then proceed to say the grossest shit to you with absolutely no filter whatsoever.

Too late, damage already done. There is no salvaging your reputation from here.

Now we're getting to the meat of it. I expected Yakou to give a counterargument to Vivia, but they seem to be on the same page.

Vivia asks, "Is it always right to reveal a cruel truth?"

Yakou says, "You need to put Kurumi's wellbeing first."

These both feel like things that are going to be important for Yuma to carry with him in the final confrontation with Makoto. Which is why the two baubles were put here.

It's not, and I hate that you think that. This exact mindset, that men only exist for women and nothing else, is a major contributing factor to toxic masculinity.

This conversation must be, like, right before Chapter 5. Yakou's getting ready to carry out Huesca's murder. That's why he's trying to connect with Yuma like this.

Yakou Furiou. I didn't think very highly of him when I met him. But then I got to know him and see new sides to his personality. And through that journey, I was able to learn that I was overestimating him and adjust my opinion even lower.

I don't like Yakou on a personal level. I don't hold his drinking or his grief against him. He's a damaged man who's been through some trauma. But he's also a frequent obstacle who has gross opinions and mostly gets in the way.

Nonetheless, I still stand behind him 100% in the murder of Dr. Huesca. Like I said before, I'm not fond of Yakou the Detective but I adore Yakou the Murderer. That we were all able to pull together and carry off the Crime of the Century to avenge Yakou's wife and assassinate the most well-guarded man in Kanai Ward?

Yeah. I'm proud of that. We did it. Huesca isn't Yakou's victim. He's our victim. We made this happen for Yakou and I have no regrets about it. I'd kill Huesca again if Yuma would let me. Shove him over that railing and let him be a malfunctioning immortal in a pit at the bottom of the secret lab.

Yakou isn't someone I would want to hang out with for an evening. But I'm glad he found his closure, even if this was the only way he could.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code #yakou furio

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mysterious-musings · 1 year ago

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Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?”

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.”

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.”

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.”

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.”

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.”

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?”

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.”

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.”

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.”

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars.

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking.

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.”

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf.

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.”

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?”

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl.

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?”

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.”

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough…

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby.

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek.

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point.

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?”

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.”

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment.

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.”

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me.

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?”

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?”

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?”

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?”

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though.

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.”

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.”

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?”

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?”

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?”

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his?

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.”

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.”

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.”

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show.

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.”

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could.

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.”

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.”

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.”

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?”

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.”

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.”

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.” Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment.

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.”

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat.

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me.

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.”

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?”

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.”

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?”

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.”

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.”

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.”

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.”

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.”

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.”

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.”

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off.

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.

Dieter’s POV

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day?

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days.

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home.

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!”

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored.

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming.

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing.

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple.

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first.

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.”

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.”

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…”

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure.

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.” I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.”

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?”

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.”

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?”

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.”

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?”

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.”

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position.

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.”

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting.

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances.

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble.

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?”

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming.

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.”

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face.

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission.

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.”

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?”

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.”

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.”

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok...

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

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Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dancing dieter #closed position series

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codychristiantreasures · 9 months ago

Note

Finally got to this. As always, I tried my best. I hope it’s ok. Part 1/2.

Cody shook his head and scrunched his face, accepting the can of Coke his friend offered him as a chase. No matter how many shots he has taken, they never taste any better. As good as the soda tasted, he wanted another beer to keep his buzz going. Right as Cody turned around to open the fridge, someone bumped into him and spilt their drink all over the front of him. “Shit. I’m so sorry.” The guy said frantically, looking around for something to dry him off. Cody looked up from his wet costume and realized it was the guy he caught checking him out earlier. “It’s fine. I know it wasn’t on purpose. We all get a little clumsy when distracted” Cody said while giving him a small grin. “Come with me. Let me help you clean up. It’s the least I can do” he replied and led Cody to the bathroom. As soon as they found an empty bathroom the mystery man had found a hand towel and wet it to wipe down Cody’s exposed torso and the parts of his costume that had gotten wet. Cody could tell he was trying so hard to focus while face to face with his wet abs and barely covered lower half. “I should take this off. It will be easier to clean” Cody gestured to his bottoms. “Umm yeah…you’re probably right”. While he was rinsing the fabric in the sink he looked at Cody in the mirror and noticed him staring at his ass. His eyes slowly trailed down to his cock in those tight briefs and saw he was starting to get hard. His mouth started to water seeing how big Cody actually is. He had always imagined what Cody looked like under all those layers. Cody cleared his throat and pulled his new friend from his thoughts. “Uh it should be clean now, just a bit damp. Sorry again about ruining your costume.” He said, looking everywhere but at Cody. Cody put his hand under his chin to force him to make eye contact. “It’s not biggie. Now that you have helped me with that, I need you to help me with something else. I saw the way you were looking at me.” Cody saw the want in his eyes and pulled him in for a rough kiss. “Strip” Cody demanded after pulling away. He wasted no time and took everything off, bending over the vanity desperate to feel Cody. “No no. I want to see that face when I make you cum.” He turned around and Cody lifted him onto the counter. They started to make out while Cody teasingly stroked him, getting his new fuck buddy as hard as he was. He took his thumb and gently swirled his pre cum around his tip, getting a moan out of the man in front of him. Cody licked his thumb, tasting the bit of his friend left of his finger. He brought his spit soaked thumb back down and slowly pushed it into the guy’s needy hole. The contact earning Cody a moan and a beg for more. Cody took two of his fingers and started pumping them in and out, stretching him out so he was ready for Cody’s cock. Mr. Christian didn’t want to wait any longer so he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock to his aching friend’s ass. “You ready?” He asked “god yes” was whined out. Cody pushed all the way in and they both let out a load groan. Cody had his hands on each of the legs resting on his shoulders as he pounded into the man lying in front of him. He opened his eyes to see the guy with one hand holding the edge of the counter and the other bracing himself on the wall, head hitting the mirror that banged against the wall with every thrust, letting everyone know what was happening behind the closed door. This fuelled Cody even more to thrust harder. They were both moaning loud, not caring that everyone could hear them even with the music playing. They were proud of what they were doing. Cody always took pride in how long he could last but he didn’t think he could hold out this time. He didn’t know if it was the slight buzz he had going, the tighness of the hole he was pounding into or the image of a desperate cockdrunk man right in front of him but he was close. Really close.

If you have time, do you think you could write something about a halloween party where Cody goes as a spartan warrior. There he finds a cute guy and he starts to fuck him in the bathroom while everyone hear and knows what's happening. Special point if you can do an edit like you used to :p

I can try! I am on a trip right now but when I get home I will try to write it for you. Maybe one of the talented anons will get inspired for this one. What kind of edit were you thinking of because I haven’t done edits before besides 2 or 3 hairy chest ones that weren’t great lol. Here is an AI edit that doesn’t really look like Cody but gives the vibes.

#part 1/2 #cody halloweeen party request #request #cody christian drabble #cody christian imagine #cody christian fic #cody christian x reader

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sublimecatgalaxy · 3 years ago

Text

Liability- Part 2 Teaser

Hang in there folks, this part is a really long one and this is just a snippet of it LMAO. Shoutout to @storytellingwitht

Unknown Number: I thought of another question.

My eyes widen as I stare down at the text, shocked that Rafe actually meant it when he said he was going to text me, my mouth drying at the confirmation that he does want to talk to me, just not about the things I’m mandated to talk to him about. But at least he’s talking now. A win is a win right?

Alright, shoot. I type back, thumbs shaking against the bright screen as I add him as a contact, my cats purring beside me as I flip over to the other side of the bed, curling into a ball as I watch the three bubbles appear at the bottom of my screen.

Rafe: Are you typically this chill with other students?

“What should I say, Winston?” I ask, showing my cat the text as he sniffles, looking between me and the bright screen, eyes squinting in discomfort. “Should I tell him that I find him incredibly attractive? So much that it makes it very hard to do my job?” Winston just looks away from me with a quiet meow, tucking his head under my hand that holds my phone. “They told me I need to connect with students on a personal level- to use my age as a tool to connect and develop interpersonal relationships- to get people to trust me.” I snort, typing the first response that comes to me before I type something that I could possibly regret.

Not really. I could just tell that I wasn’t going to get you to open up if I acted my role. My answer isn’t necessarily a lie, but there’s something about him- though cocky and sometimes unbearable- that just makes it so easy to be myself. He’s done such shit in his life so maybe he’s just not that judgmental because he’s done worse, but there’s just something open about him, even if it might be unintentional.

Rafe: Cuz I have an issue with authority? And older women apparently.

My cats jump as I laugh out loud, cheeks warming as I press my face into my pillow momentarily, hating the smile that spreads across my lips. I feel like a middle schooler who’s finally getting attention from a cute guy, blood pumping and mind running with thoughts.

Yeah, I wanted to make it easier on you- more comfortable.

Rafe: That’s kind of nice.

“Duh, Rafe, it's my job.” I whisper to myself while typing. Well, I’m a nice person.

Rafe: I can think of twelve things you said to me today that were the opposite of nice.

It’s as if he knew what I was going to say because the minute I send my text, his text comes flying back in return. He’s not wrong- I did mess with him all day, the memory of me teasing him so much forces a proud grin on my lips as I type.

I figured it out pretty quickly that you deflect with humor. I happen to be remarkably funny.

Rafe: Got me figured out, huh?

He has no clue how much I’ve already figured out simply from the fact that he keeps deflecting and avoiding talks about his family. I can assume his younger sister is the only family member he hasn’t had a negative encounter with and, looking at his academics versus his social life, it almost seems as if he doesn’t actually want to be here, like it wasn’t his decision, but that he has to maintain the grades but not the image. Maybe his outbursts, like keying his professor's car, were last ditch efforts to get out, not stay.

You could say that. Men are pretty easy. I respond simply, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him.

Rafe: First you call me a man whore and now I’m ‘easy’?

You had the chance to ask me questions and you didn’t.

Rafe: I did, they were just stupid. I couldn’t really think of anything. I was too preoccupied.

With? I bite at the excess skin on my nail as I wait for his reply, tearing my eyes away from the phone for a moment to look down at my cats who both stare at me, probably wondering how I’ve managed to stay awake this long. If only they knew and could fathom ‘a crush’.

Rafe: Well you called me handsome and I think that’s the last thing I remember.

Oh shit, I did, didn’t I? I pause, actually considering the fact that my comment actually stuck with him enough to make him think about it hours later. It’s common knowledge that Rafe is a good looking guy; tall, built, kind eyes and a silver tongue- I’d have to be blind or dead to not see him.

You’re all talk. I type, continuing the assault on my nail as the dots appear and disappear, Rafe choosing his answer wisely. It makes me laugh to think of him in a similar position as me, laying in bed, typing back a reply with a blush on his cheeks-

Maybe I shouldn’t think about him in bed.

Rafe: I’m not, you’re just all by the books.

Am I? I know that I’ve joked about being by the books and dying on the hill that I’m such a 'rule follower', but if I was seriously a stereotypical counselor, I would think that I wouldn’t enjoy conversations with him so much- so much that I stay up way past midnight just to continue a vaguely flirty conversation with him.

Har. Har. Doesn’t seem like you’re having an issue talking to older women now.

Rafe: Cuz you’re not here staring at me and judging me.

The thought of him finding me as intimidating as I find him is exhilarating, the air in my lungs seemingly evaporating as I gasp in a breath.

Rafe: Writing shit down in that passive aggressive notebook. What have you even written in there?

You don’t wanna know. I giggle, picturing the dopey, confused look on his face, a kind smirk and furrowed brows as he tries to figure me out. In person, he would pry and stare at me until I break, taking advantage of my weakness when it comes to him. But right now, so far away from him, I don’t let up, continuing the torment and teasing that he subjects me to during the day.

Rafe: Is it just a bunch of ‘Mrs. Cameron’s’ written over and over again?

“Rafe, what the fuck!” I yell out, sitting straight up in bed as I hear the neighbor bang on the wall behind me, chastising me for my shouting. I slap a hand over my mouth, typing back a shaky response.

Asshole. Go to bed. I’m not actively trying to get rid of him, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to see where this conversation would go if I did indulge him and give him a taste of his own medicine. He’s a tease but he’s an intelligent tease; he knows just how to rile a person up, maybe from experience or maybe it’s just his personality. Either way, it works too well.

Rafe: You’re no fun :(

I am, it’s just above your pay grade. I don’t even know what I’m implying with this whole ongoing ‘paygrade’ joke- maybe I’m implying that there’s more under my surface that goes beyond a flirty college counselor. Maybe I want him to see under the surface and I instigate because I know he likes the chase and the taunting.

Maybe it’s just fun to get him going.

Rafe: Again with the fucking pay grade. How do I get promoted?

Why do you want to be promoted? What do you get out of it? My stomach drops, my heart pounding in my throat as my fingers type against the screen, the typos only a testament to how nervous he makes me.

Rafe: Tell me how to get into that head of yours and maybe I’ll let you know why I care so much.

I screech out loud once more, reaching out to comfort Winston and my other orange tabby Clementine with a quiet apology for continuing to wake them up repeatedly. Forgetting my mission, my head snaps back to the clinical benefits from this conversation, needing him to finally open up to me about his own problems if we’re going to get anywhere. He needs clearance from the school, I need the praise from my boss, and- the most important- he needs to heal from whatever’s eating him up inside.

I’d tell him anything if it meant that I could help him.

Tell me where your anger issues stem from and why you won’t talk about your family or hometown. I press send before I can contemplate it, worrying that the interjection into our playful conversation might make him mad because it’s typically his response to me prying into his personal life. But instead, he surprises me.

Rafe: I’ll think about it.

It’s not what I was expecting at all but I’ll take any progress that I can get. A month ago, he’d threaten to leave the room if I tried to bribe information out of him but now he seems willing. Maybe he thinks that if he tells me things, that I’ll open up. But if that’s the case, then we’re playing the same game and it looks like the both of us are going to ultimately get what we want from each other. In more ways than one apparently.

Rafe: So you hang out with your cats and you go to work at the campus. Is that all you do?

If I give him the answer that I want to reply with, he’ll know where to find me outside of school. He’d have the opportunity to see me outside of our sessions, to talk to me off the record and have the freedom to say or do whatever he’d like.

Do I want that? Am I asking for him to become more in my life than he already is?

Weighing the odds of a pros and cons list would take too long so my fingers type quickly enough to not give my brain a second to think or argue.

No, I work as a bartender at a bar on Grant too. Again, the bubbles on the bottom of the screen appear and disappear, Rafe obviously deciding carefully on what to say. I know that he’ll take advantage of it, even if I ask him not to but maybe it’ll be what he needs- to see me in a setting where he doesn’t have to talk to me. Maybe it’ll happen naturally on its own if he chooses to interact with me, to talk and open up.

Rafe: Oh, that’s kind of badass.

A girly grin takes over my face, Clementine's quiet meows spooking me out of my giddy mood, her paws digging into my boobs as she flops down on my chest. I let out a quiet ‘oof’ and she looks at the bright screen of my phone, meowing once more as another message comes through.

Rafe: I know you’ll ask me not to come and visit you but I make no promises.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy

@steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht @savageneversaw @admiringlove @witxhy-lexx @starlightandfairies @hysteriahall @piceous21 @igotmajordaddyissues

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #the outerbanks #the outerbanks fic

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the-flesh-is-willing · 2 years ago

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some image IDs TBA, apologies!

re: the tags in my last reblog - have some old/abandoned art of my hornet gijinka + star wars au designs this is gonna be a long post oops first was before i figured out how i wanna dress my hk gijinkas (still kinda proud of it esp the facial expression even if i didnt wanna shade it properly lol) second is her pretty much figured out design in training clothes, plus drawings of her as a togruta jedi (i should really get back to that au i love it so much) third is an unfinished thing from like half a year ago (damn) and thats what she wears post sealing of the black egg temple generally although maybe i shouldve given her more visible bags and stuff idt she would leave Everything at her camps right

she has a rope dart because thats what her attacks remind me of most, not the proudest of how heavily i referenced the bottom pose from another artist and idt i would do that as heavily now? but something something growth

in the third design she has a magic spider silk tabard thing instead of armour (hence the silvery iridescence), i imagine it would help with the whole agility thing. capes r inconvenient but hehe Swoosh in case u couldnt tell my hk gijinkas r kinda chinese fantasy vibes??? maybe i should make her a proper like royal princess kinda design sometime ough (and redesign the tiara in the first one to be more chinese as well... hanfu hair stuff is always sick as all hell) ...also when i first posted the first one i wrote a little drabble. i was not and am still not a person who does writing ever but uh

Hornet was usually good at hiding her problems and keeping a calm demeanour. After all, she was the Daughter of Hallownest, destined to inherit an entire kingdom. Hornet knew things were getting worse for her beloved Hallownest, but she could never have imagined that her own father would destroy their home, locking himself in a dreamworld she could never access. Hornet realized she’d never see the palace again, and let her tears finally flow; there was no longer a kingdom for her to rule anyways. (Please excuse my inability to write LMAO) For clarification: the tiara on her head is imaginary and I imagine gijinka!Hornet impulsively shattering her actual tiara once she realizes Hallownest has gone past the point of no return. The phantom tiara + the Hallownest seal in the background indicates how she’ll always be royalty and cannot distance herself from her father’s legacy.

yeah

apologies for the massive wall of text but this is what tumblr is for right

#hollow knight #hollow knight gijinka #hollow knight au #hk hornet #hornet gijinka #hollow knight fanart #star wars au #im not procrastinating YOU'RE procrastinating #art #artists on tumblr #chinese artist #helix draws #helix talks #hollow knight x star wars #hollow knight fanfic #i guess #scheduling this because i definitely did not write it instead of sleeping #also yeah my brain cant image description rn (gee i wonder why) i will fix that asap

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betabites · 1 year ago

Text

Transcripts for the twitter link, video at the twitter link, and image transcripts:

Twitter transcript: Tweet from @OfficialRWBY: "It's time for RWBY to come home! <4 hearts, in red, white, black, and red>. Starting March 30th, not only will all of RWBY Volume 9 be on Rooster Teeth free to watch (and re-watch [winky smiley]), we also have bonus content in store for FIRST members… Listen to find out more!"

Video transcript:

"Hey everybody, this is Kerry [Shawcross] and I'm here to bring you some RWBY announcements. Now, right off the bat I want to say this is not about Volume 10. That doesn't mean there's not progress! We're actively and currently talking with partners right now about bringing it to life. I'm here to talk about something very close to Volume 10… Volume 9. [sotto voce] It's… it's one away.

Volume 9 has been out on Crunchyroll for almost a year now, which is crazy to think about. If you've watched it, thank you so much. We're really appreciative and we're really proud of how it turned out. A big part of that is Crunchyroll. They help support us in a way that let us make the volume that we wanted to make, and for that we're very thankful. But now it's time for RWBY to come home.

So I'm very excited to announce that starting March 30th, RWBY Volume 9 will be available on our site all at once and for free. If you're familiar with our FIRST program, you know it's basically a patronage model that directly supports us and our crew and allows us to continue to make RWBY content while we look for partners to make Volume 10. So to thank our FIRST members, we going to be making exclusive bonus content that'll live only on Rooster Teeth.

The first is going to be a retrospective look at Volume 9 one year after its release. I think it's going to be really exciting to get to look back at a volume that's been out for a little while, see what the response was like, talk about that, and even take questions from FIRST members.

Next is a new run of Grimm Campaign. Now, if you're not familiar with the show, that's okay. You're going to be able to jump right into it. It's our RWBY inspired D&D show. It's a lot of fun. I love doing it. Please watch it. If you've never seen it before, that's okay, because we're going to do a brand new little mini arc. You don't need to know any of the characters, you don't need to know anything. You just need to show up and have fun. You will have fun. That's a threat.

Last, but certainly not least, is RWBY Volume 9 Beyond. Really, really, excited about this one. It's going to be a story style anthology series looking at different moments throughout Volume 9 and even beyond. Get it? RWBY Volume 9 Beyond? It's going to be narrative, it's going to be character focused. I'm very, very excited about this one.

So to sum it all up, starting March 30th, you can come to Rooster Teeth and watch all of RWBY Volume 9, for free, all at once. And if you're a FIRST member, you've get bonus content weekly. That will take an even deeper look into the volume, the production, the characters and story and the world of RWBY.

We really appreciate you all for the support. And, yeah, stay tuned for more."

Image transcripts:

[A screen-capture, with RWBY volume 9 and Rooster Teeth logos at the bottom. Next to an image of Ruby Rose and Little: "RWBY Volume 9: Beyond. A storybook animation styled anthology series will tell the untold stories happening in Remnant during Volume 9 and even beyond." Next to a photo of (presumably) a crew member: Cast and Crew Commentary Series. Join the cast and crew of RWBY as we take a look back on the Volume one year later, discussing our favorite moments, fan reactions, and answer questions from our FIRST members.]

[A screen-capture, with RWBY volume 9 and Rooster Teeth logos at the bottom. Next to an image of Little: RWBY Volume 9 epilogue Animatic Extended. The official Volume 9 Epilogue animatic is finally available to the public! This version is extended, so even if you saw it at RTX last year there'll be something new for you to enjoy. Next to the icon of RWBY: The Grimm Campaign: "A New Grimm Campaign. The D&D adventure taking place in the RWBY universe is back for another campaign, with special guest and Ruby Rose VA Lindsay Jones joining in the fun!"]

Summary:

They're still in talks to make Volume 10 happen (they seem to still be looking for partners)

Volume 9 will be available for all members on the Rooster Teeth website starting March 30th

FIRST members will get the opportunity to experience (weekly) exclusive bonus content, including: > retrospective of Volume 9 one year after its release > RWBY Volume 9 Beyond, a "storybook style anthology series"

also, new Grimm Campaign

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emmyhem · 4 years ago

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everything you’re missing (c.t.h)

a/n: hi everybody, i’m back with another post. this is my first calum piece and i’m so excited to finally get it up. this is once again unedited, i’m way too tired rn. it’s also the second smut i’ve posted so that’s pretty exciting as well. yeah i don’t really have much to say right now because i’m literally exhausted, my classes are really kicking my ass. anyway i hope you all enjoy this bff!calum piece. feedback and comments are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well and are being safe. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: bff!calum hood x fem!reader

summary: a drunken text meant for your ex shows up on calum’s phone and leaves him questioning everything he’s missing out on with his best friend.

warning(s): talk of a previous bad relationship, y/n’s ex body shamed her, mentions of alcohol, insecurity, smut, cursing

word count: 4.7k

You’ve decided that 3 glasses of wine is your happy medium, but even a sip into the 4th and there’s no telling what you’ll do.

So, naturally you were finishing up your 5th glass on Friday night while angrily scrolling through your exes instagram when you got what seemed to be an incredible idea. It was simply too tempting not to, your mind was feeling hazy which made your confidence skyrocket, and you truly did just look good.

A day of pampering had left you in a black floor length silk robe with nothing but your favorite deep cherry red lingerie set underneath. Your face was bare and glowing after a refreshing and illuminating face mask, and your lips were left glossy and plump from a new scrub.

You had posed in front of the floor length mirror in your living room, giggling between snaps until you had taken the perfect shot. It was classy but provocative, the dressing gown slipping from your shoulders exposing the lace of your bra and a tasteful amount of cleavage. You had also left the bottom open, allowing a clear shot of your thighs and the curve of your ass from where you sat on your knees.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes you selected the picture into a message, typing a cheeky, “take a good look at everything you’re missing” and sending it off to your ex (or so you thought).

But you really couldn’t be blamed for your mistake, Cam and Cal were far too similar for your drunk brain to decipher the difference. You also couldn’t be blamed for the fact that you dozed off on the couch immediately after sending it, before you even had a chance to recognize your humiliating mistake.

You were awoken by the ringing of your phone at around 9:00 am, way too early for your liking. Before even registering who it was, you brought the phone to your ear and groaned a sleepy, “hello,”

“At your door.” a voice you recognized as your best friend responded.

“M’coming” you said, scooting off the couch. On your way to the door you registered that you were still scantily covered, the robe falling off of you as you walked. You clutched it around you as you swung the door open to a wide eyed, Calum Hood.

“G’morning.” he smirked, looking you up and down.

“Shh” you hushed, pulling him in by the arm. “Why in the world are you here so early?”

He lightly laughed while taking a seat at the kitchen table, eyes following you while you moped over to the fridge and pulled out two water bottles.

“Well,” he sighed as you handed him one. “I got a very interesting text last night and I figured I just had to come over and see, y’know everything I was missing.” he spoke in a teasing tone as he gestured a hand down your body.

You tugged your eyebrows together in confusion. There was something familiar about what he was saying, but not familiar enough for you to put the pieces together.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned bringing the water bottle to your lips.

Calum shrugged his shoulders, a smirk still glued to his face as he took out his phone and began looking for something. After a few seconds he extended his arm to hand you his phone. You accepted it and glanced down absentmindedly as your body slumped against the counter.

The second your eyes hit the screen it all came back to you, your mouth fell open and you straightened out, suddenly very awake, not to mention very mortified.

Calum on the other hand was buzzing. Actually, he had been ever since his phone dinged last night awakening him from his sleep. Well, buzzing and extremely, extremely sexually frustrated.

When he first opened your message and saw the picture that would now be making a regular appearance in his wet dreams, he had nearly choked on his own breath. He knew that it was most likely a drunken mistake, and while that slightly saddened him it didn’t stop his dick from plumping up at the sight, straining uncomfortably against his boxers. He seriously debated wanking to the tempting image but decided against it, thinking it would be a gross violation of your privacy since it wasn’t even meant for him. Oh how he wished it was. Unfortunately that meant he had been sporting an exceptionally sensitive halfie since then.

“Oh my god.” you groaned, sitting the phone down on the counter and covering your eyes in humiliation. “Cal I’m soooo sorry, I was drunk, and overly confident, and I meant to send this to Cam and now I’m just, I’m sorry.” you reiterated.

‘Hey, don’t apologize on my account.” he countered. “Plus, you should be thrilled you sent it to me and not that asshole, doesn’t deserve ya.”

“I know, you’re right. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m mortified though. S’bit ridiculous, get a little alcohol in my system and I have a god complex all of a sudden” you rambled, running your hands through your hair nervously.

Calum stood and pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You think too much, y’know that?” he quipped.

You turned your head, pressing a cheek against his sweater clad chest and mumbled, “Yea I’ve been known for that.”

Calum softly chuckled at your words before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head and pulling apart.

“S’really no big deal, y/n.” a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Besides I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Calum!” you scolded, swatting a hand at his arm.

He dodged your hit just in time and held his hands up in surrender before taking his seat again.

“Why'd you let that dick bother you anyway? Y’know you’re way out of his league.”

Your jaw clenched at the question, your mind wandering to every time you had come to Calum crying after your ex had done something to hurt you. Everytime he commented on your “stomach pudge” as he liked to call it, when you wore a tight dress to go out. Or when he would ask if you were really “that” hungry, even if you hadn’t eaten much at all. And each time you would feel absolutely wretched and end up sobbing in Calum’s arms, but refusing to tell him why you were so, so sad.

“He texted me the other day y’know?” you muttered under your breath, while fiddling with the coffee machine.

“Really? What’d he say?” Calum responded, watching your back with narrowed eyes.

“Uh, he saw me the other night, when we were at that bar with the guys.” you said, shaky fingers pulling out a mug.

“And?” he spoke flatly.

“It’s stupid really,” you sniffled, willing your voice not to break. “He said I put on a few pounds, that he was glad he got out when he did.” your bottom lip traitorously jutted out as you turned to face him.

“Fucking dick.” he hissed.

Calum wasn’t necessarily proud of the violent images that flashed through his mind at the thought of that asshole finding yet another way to hurt you but, the sad little quiver of your lip allowed him to reason without a doubt that they were fair.

Before you could even blink he was holding you again, arms impossibly tight around you. .

“He’s wrong, y/n. Fuck, I don’t know how to even...he’s just so wrong.” he said softly, his hand rubbing your back reassuringly.

“I know.” you whimpered, holding tears back.

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes, arms still firm around your waist.

“No you don’t. It’s...It really fucking pisses me off that he makes you feel like this. It’s like-fuck you’re just like-” he moved his hands to cup your cheeks. “You really are gorgeous.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and your whole body felt warm as you stared at his big brown eyes. His words felt sincere, everything about him felt so sincere.

“Thank you, Cal.”

He pulled you back into his chest, “Really wish I could just, like hug away all his bullshit.”

“M’used to it.” you mumbled.

“You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Yea, well what can you do.” you sighed, moving out of his embrace.

Calum’s eyes were still glued to you as you stirred a spoonful of sugar in your coffee.

“I hope you don’t let anything he says get to you.”

You let out a breath of exhaustion.

Confidence wasn’t something that you used to struggle with. I mean sure, there were spouts of insecurity here and there but you knew your worth, and you considered yourself pretty, hot even. That had all changed a few months into your latest relationship. First it was the backhanded compliments which quickly turned into passive comments, and then outright cruel insults. People really underestimate the toll their words take on others, especially when the person that’s making you feel so ugly and worthless, is one that you adore and who’s supposed to adore you right back, no matter what.

“I try but, he can’t just be making it all up.” you were ashamed. When did you become the girl that lets a guy affect how she sees herself? That just wasn’t you.

“He is. He’s insecure and a douche. He was probably trying to destroy your confidence to the point that you felt like you couldn’t leave him.” Calum assured. “But you’re way too strong for him, dumped his sorry ass anyway.”

You smiled gratefully at his words, taking a seat next to him.

“Yea, so strong I tried to send him half naked pictures for reassurance.”

Calum shook his head, “I wish you could see how hot you are.”

Your eyes widened at the compliment, your head dropping to avoid his stare as blood rushed to your cheeks.

“I’d be happy to reassure you whenever you want.” he continued, bumping his knee against yours under the table.

“Doesn’t count.” you dismissed, before sipping your coffee. “You're my best friend, you’re obligated to tell me I’m pretty.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” he muttered back quietly, his expression dropping slightly. He hated when you deflected his compliments. All he ever wanted to do was make you feel good, and you made it very difficult for him when you blocked every swing he took at the wall of insecurity that Cam had built around you. He would kill Cam if he could.

You let out an apologetic sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

“M’sorry, you’re right. I love you for that, the only thing keeping me sane.”

Your heart squeezed as he hugged you back.

Calum was perfect, he was sweet, and funny, and quite literally your favorite person on earth. Not to mention you had been hopelessly in love with him since practically the beginning of your friendship. But as his best friend you had heard over and over just how uninterested he was in a relationship. Everytime you would ask about his love life he would just respond,

“I’m just not the boyfriend type, m’not cut out for it.” shrugging nonchalantly.

Which you thought was laughable because anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, in fact sometimes you would let yourself pretend he was yours.

Like,in a busy club with his hands on your hips, guiding you through the crowds. So close behind, you could feel each exhale on the back of your neck, as his eyes darted around the room to ensure there weren’t any potential threats to your safety, in the form of drunk overzealous flirts. Or after a night out when he got cuddly and clingy, and would find his way from the couch into your bed. You’d wake up with his cheek pressed against your chest and his arms snaked around your torso as he released soft breaths that caused goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. You’d let yourself imagine that you had this every morning and that he would wake up any minute to smother your face in kisses and tell you he loved you. And of course, here he was again this morning being so thoughtful and kind and everything you wanted in a boyfriend. And here you were again swimming in his praises and physically having to restrain yourself from kissing him.

Begrudgingly, you pulled away and stood up.

“Gonna get changed.” you spoke.

“I’m making us breakfast.” Calum called as you walked away. You hummed in response and slipped into your room.

Once in the privacy of your own room you quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a hoodie before scurrying to the bathroom sink and splashing cold water on your face in hopes of ridding yourself of any romantic thoughts towards your best friend.

Although you weren’t aware, Calum was doing the very same thing just a few feet away. Internally reminding himself repeatedly that it was never gonna happen with you. He wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s boyfriend, let alone yours. You didn’t want him that way and he could almost trick himself into believing that he was okay with that.

You hastily finished brushing your teeth before returning to the kitchen. You were greeted with the sight of Calum’s back, he stood over the toaster cutting an avocado and humming a song you didn’t recognize quietly to himself. He looked over his shoulder as your footsteps approached.

“Hungry?” he questioned.

“You have no idea.” you affirmed, as he fixed a plate for you both.

“Good. I was thinking we could watch something while we eat,”

“Fine with me.” you responded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the distraction laced in your voice. Your focus had easily been stolen from the conversation to how easy it was to see his back muscles flex through the thin material of his jumper.

But of course he did, it was Calum after all.

“Y’alright?” he said, handing you a plate.

“Uh, yep.” you rushed out.

“Not still thinking about Cam, are you?”

“No, not at all.” you answered honestly, walking to the couch, Calum trailing closely behind you.

“Then what’s got you all flustered?”

“You” you thought, taking a seat in the furthest corner.

“I’m not flustered.”

“Bullshit” he countered, sitting practically on top of you.

You let out a huff, and motioned to the other completely empty side of the couch.

“Is there a reason we aren’t practicing personal space right now?”

He laughed softly at your question and nuzzled closer into your side.

“Yea, you’re all pouty, looks like you need a cuddle.”

“I’m really fine Cal.” you shoved him lightly but saw no results, he just scooched in even closer and bit into his toast.

The two of you sat in silence while some newly released action movie played on your TV. Calum’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders keeping you tight to his side, and although you could’ve sworn that you had been in this exact same position hundreds of times, you felt as if this were the very first time. Every single one of your nerves were on fire and the warmth that had flooded your body was making you antsy.

Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, you allowed your eyes to flutter close with a deep inhale.

“You okay?” Calum whispered, dipping his head down slightly to reach your ear.

You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t trust your voice to protrude through your shaky exhales, settling for a subdued nod instead.

“You sure?” his words were long and drawled out, despite your eyes being closed you knew his proximity from the feeling of his breath just behind your ear.

Before you could speak up his hand secured itself just above your knee, and your muscles flexed involuntarily at the contact.

“Relax, y/n” he continued, his thumb beginning to run repeatedly over a spot on your inner knee.

Everything in your brain was screaming at you to excuse yourself, maybe even kick him out, anything to gain some space and hopefully some clarity from the cloud of sexual tension that was looming over the two of you and blurring boundaries at lightning speed. But you were essentially frozen in place, petrified that any movement would alert Calum to the way he was affecting you.

Your head lolled back to rest on his forearm which was lying behind you on the couch and finally peeled your eyes open, staring up at the ceiling.

He watched you from the corner of his eye, taking note of every rise and fall of your chest, every thick swallow of your throat.

If there was one thing Calum was well versed in, it was his ability to read you, he liked to think he knew you better than anyone else in the world. He could tell exactly how you were feeling just by watching you, your face, your breathing and he was more than shocked when he started getting the feeling you were no longer upset but something far more appealing.

Were you turned on? Right here in his presence? The thought made blood rush to his dick, which twitched in his pants when another breathy sigh passed your lips.

“What’re you thinking about, love?”

Everything in you urged you to answer honestly, just tell him the truth. “You, I’m thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.” But you couldn’t do that, so instead you deflected.

“What’re you thinking about?” you countered, meeting his eyes.

Calum questioned his next words very carefully, debating whether or not he could recover if he was wrong about what you were feeling and you shut him down. It was pointless though, he knew he would never recover from your rejection. He also knew that spontaneous combustion wouldn’t look very good on his tombstone and that’s exactly what would happen if he spent one more minute not kissing you.

Fuck it.

“That pretty little set you had on last night.” he confessed.

That you weren’t expecting.

A quiet whine rang from your throat and you were far too affected to feel embarrassed.

And that did it, Calum was now impossibly hard in his pants, no doubt leaking precum onto his boxer briefs. He needed to get his hands on you, now.

His hand started to slowly travel up your thigh, goosebumps rising on every centimeter they passed.

“So gorgeous in red, aren’t ya y/n?”

“Cal,” you hissed when his thumb brushed the sensitivity of your inner thigh.

“Mm.” he hummed. “It’d be pretty hard fo’me to stop right now, but I will if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, love?”

He was sure he’d cry if he had to let go of you now, but he needed to hear you say it.

“No, don’t wanna stop.” you whined, turning your body flush to his.

“Whaddya want then, baby? Hm?” You could feel his every word on the flushed skin of your neck as he leaned into the crook.

“Want you.”

He could’ve came then and there.

“Then I’m all yours.” he admitted before crashing his lips on yours.

Your heart was in your stomach as his tongue entered your mouth, explorative and eager. He was too busy memorizing your taste to notice your fingers tugging at his sweater. You attempted to push it up desperate to feel his skin under your hands. You were able to pull the fabric up about halfway before they were blocked by his arms that were holding you close against him.

Calum laughed when you pulled apart from the kiss, giving him a disappointed look.

“Want it off?” he teased.

You couldn’t bother to be embarrassed when you nodded eagerly in response. He didn’t waste any time peeling the fabric off of his skin, and you were quick to lightly run a finger across the ink feather just below his collarbone.

Now it was his turn to tug on your clothes, “Level the playing field?”

You nodded, lifting your arms and allowing him to lift the sweatshirt over your head leaving your chest completely bare. Calum groaned at the sight of your tits, his hands quickly finding your waist and tugging you down to lay on your back in one swift motion.

Once you were laid out in front of him he took the opportunity to explore the new skin. His hands left a lingering warmth as they dragged across your stomach and despite the kind words and endearing demeanor that he always upheld with you, you found yourself shying under his gaze, wanting to curl away from him. As your hands began to wrap around your stomach in an attempt to cover yourself up he quickly pushed them away, locking them in place on either side of you.

“Wanna see everything baby, all of you.” he cooed in your ear before nipping at the lobe.

His kisses began to travel down your neck, sucking a few marks to your collar bones and the surrounding areas. When his fingers grazed over a fresh bruise in the dip just between your neck and shoulders you hissed lightly.

“You look so pretty marked up for me. All mine, aren’t you baby? Not Cam’s, mine. Say it.”

“Yours, Cal.” you admitted, feeling your body sink further into the couch. You had never felt drunk off of someone’s words before and the experience was leaving you sputtering, completely compliant to your best friend.

He hummed contently at your confession, his large hands gripping at your hips, before slowly peeling your leggings off.

“Y’feel so good in my hands, like you were made for me.” his thumbs poking at the soft skin, just beneath your panties.

The feeling of his hands so close to where you needed them, but not quite there was driving you crazy.

“Cal, please.” you begged.

He groaned before tugging at the cotton covering you. “Cam’s a fucking idiot, y’know that? He had the prettiest girl in the world and treated her like shit. I’d never do that, wanna worship you baby.”

It was ridiculous how overwhelmed his words were leaving you, all desperate and squirming. As his fingers met the soaked expanse of your cunt you couldn’t hold back the throaty moan it elicited.

A pornographic sigh followed close behind, one that made Calum want to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t in the midst of a haunting dream.

“Soaked f’me darling.” he mused, running his fingers up and down your folds to completely coat you in your arousal. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking your hips up desperate for friction.

Tutting while shaking his head, he used one hand on your lower stomach to press you back down to the couch.

“Stay still for me won’t you, love?” he cooed, continuing to run his fingers over your core lightly.

When you bobbed your head up and down in agreement he lifted your leg to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your calf.

“Hm, good girl.” he praised, softly laying your leg back down.

Calum hovered above you, dipping his head down every so often to peck at your chest, his fingers still unrelenting. The knot in your lower stomach tightened every second that passed and you felt like you could scream at any second, yearning to be full.

Calum felt like he could burst any minute himself but was determined to make this experience the best of your life. He wanted to give you something to remember, a reason to want more.

Your soft moans and frustrated grunts alerted him to your neediness and he was just about ready to give in for the both of you.

“What do you need from me, baby?” he said against your shoulder before peppering kisses across your collar bones.

You could only respond with an airy moan when his fingers found your clit.

“Hm? My fingers?” You shook your head aggressively. He knew exactly what you wanted, the tease.

“No? Want my mouth?” he teased further, leaving an opened mouth kiss in between your tits.

“Cal,” you sighed. “Fuck me, please.”

He groaned at your words, nipping lightly at the skin before ridding himself of his pants.

“You’re a fucking dream, y’know that?” he praised, desperately searching for a condom in his pants. When he finally located one he held it up to you as if it were a prized possession, smiling proudly at his own preparedness.

He hastily freed himself from the constraints of his boxers and rolled the condom on, never once taking his eyes off of the blissful expression on your face.

“Ready?” he questioned, his tip lightly pressing at your entrance. You nodded and sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for the stretch, your eyes falling closed in the process.

When a few seconds went by and nothing happened you opened your eyes to find Calum staring down at you in awe.

“Cal,” you whined. “what’re you doing?”

Your words seemed to break him from his trance, he shook his head and muttered an apology to you.

“Sorry, fuck you’re pretty. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Then stop waiti-” your words were cut off by a sharp hiss that couldn’t have been prevented as his length finally pressed into you.

“Fuck.” Calum groaned his head falling back. You felt too good around him, seriously he was fucked, completely ruined for you.

You felt the exact same as your silky moans filled the room. You had never been filled this good and you questioned how you had gone so long without this.

“M-move” you sighed, clenching around him.

You could hear his breath catch at the feeling and he grunted out a strained, “Need a minute.”

He held himself in place for a few more seconds until his breaths began to even out once again before pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in.

You yelped, pulling your lip between your teeth in hopes to drown the sound.

He continued slamming into you at an unrelenting pace, taking notice of each time your eyes would roll back when he brushed against your g-spot. He could write a book about how good you looked all fucked for him.

As his thrusts grew closer together you could feel your release creeping up on you.

“Cal, need’ta cum.” you stuttered out.

His hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his head poked at that spot again.

“Go on baby, let go.” he encouraged, willing himself to hold out a little longer as your walls fluttered around him.

Once you had came it only took him about three more thrusts before he was painting the condom with his release, groaning your name as his hand searched for yours to intertwine them as he came down from his own high.

His body flopped next to yours on the couch, both of you struggling to fit next to each other in such a small space, not that either of you minded the close quarters.

Your fingers remained laced together as you caught your breath, Calum peppering kisses to your shoulder and mumbling praises into your skin.

“You’re an angel. God, I just- I love you.” he said, causing your head to snap in his direction.

He looked like a deer in headlights when you asked for him to repeat himself.

“I love you?” he obliged.

“Is it a question?”

“No, I’m just not used to saying it.” he admitted, vulnerability clear in his eyes.

You wanted to kiss away the worried crease in his forehead but instead pressed your lips to his, pulling apart a fraction of an inch to speak after a few seconds.

“I love you too.” you ensured.

Calum eyes widened, not expecting you to say it back, at least not so soon. He had so much he wanted to say to you but figured all of it could be summed up by another kiss to your soft lips. So he closed the distance once again, using a bit more force this time in hopes it would convey the strength of his feelings for you.

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quaranmine · 4 years ago

Text

The Babysitting Game

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, Grian doesn't have a child but he does have an egg and a village. That’s basically the same thing, right?

Grian acquires an egg. His friends help him.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly fluff! Hermits: Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, and Scar. My first publish fanfic since 2016 and my first hermitcraft fanfic :D ao3 link and some inspirations to be linked in a reblog

Words: 2862

•·················•·················•

"What if I touched it really quick?" Scar asked.

"No, don’t-don’t touch the egg," Grian said seriously. "Look, I even made a sign! It specifically says ‘Do not touch.’" He gestured to the sign in question, but Scar ignored him.

"Can I rub it?" he said. The man leaned over it, studying the object carefully. Grian hadn’t known where to place the egg when he got it, and it was just sitting on an anvil for the time being. He didn’t even have a starter house yet, but clearly he was going to need something soon if he was going to protect the egg from some of the more . . . mischievous residents of their Boatem village.

“No, don’t touch the egg! Scar-” Grian walked closer, hands outstretched, just in time to see Scar reach out with his hand and pat the egg.

Vworp!

The egg disappeared into thin air.

Dragon eggs had a tendency to do that. It was a survival tactic--Grian didn't really know how it worked, but just as endermen could teleport away from danger, so could the egg if it were touched. Now whether or not Scar was dangerous remained up for debate…

Scar giggled. "Oh, where did you go?" he sang, hunting around the area.

Well, he COULD be pretty scary sometimes.

"Scarrrr," Grian whined, helping him look. "I told you not to touch it!"

"It's over here!" Scar shouted, finding the egg at the bottom of a small slope nearby. "Just one more time…." He reached out again.

"No!" Grian said, slapping his hand away. "Look, you've got to pick it up the right way." He demonstrated, carefully lifting the egg and placing it in a pouch slung over his back. He had hurriedly stitched it together not too long ago, worried that transporting the egg normally might break it. “If you do it roughly, you’ll scare it and it’ll teleport away again.”

"I see!" said Scar.

"Now, please, don't touch the egg.”

"Oh," Scar said. He straightened. "You're really serious about this."

Grian glared. "I am."

"I'm sorry, I just thought it was funny!"

Grian sighed. "It's okay, Scar. It's just--this thing is a baby, it needs to be handled gently! You can't just go around scaring it! What if it falls into a hole or something?" he hissed.

"Oh my god," Scar laughed, "you're its mother now!"

"No, no, I'm not!"

"You are!" Scar cried. He suddenly stopped. "Oh no, didn't you kill its mother?"

"Well it doesn't know that!" Grian snapped. "Truthfully I didn't realize there would be an egg! And I couldn't just leave it, you know! Here, look at this." Grian gently withdrew the egg from its pack, and Scar moved closer. He held it up to the sun. "Look at that."

The sun shined dark red through the deep purple shell of the egg, making it glow within. In the middle, the silhouette of a curled up creature was illuminated. Blood vessels radiated outward, and at the bottom there was a blank space that Grian assumed was air. The egg’s shell was too thick for any detail to be made out, but the processes happening within were clear. Grian was enchanted with it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

"Wow," Scar breathed. "There's actually a dragon in there! What're you gonna do with it after it hatches?"

"Well, I haven't exactly thought that far--I just want to worry about keeping it safe first. I mean, what do you even do with this thing?" Grian put the egg back in its satchel, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I suppose you keep it warm and safe but, like, I don't know what else-"

"I could help!" Scar said.

"You were just playing with it!"

"Hey," Scar said defensively, "that was before I knew more about it!"

Grian rolled his eyes.

“What are you guys doing over here?” said Mumbo, wandering over. Grian just knew he’d been up to something, and sure enough, there was a new tree next to his little collection of chests. Grian wasn’t very bothered by it, because he already had a plan to get Mumbo back for it.

“Grian is just showing me his new baby!” Scar teased. “He’s a mom now.”

“I am NOT its mother,” replied Grian tiredly, but he smiled at the sight of the other man.

“A baby?” Mumbo asked, choosing to ignore the rest of Scar’s statement.

“A dragon egg,” Grian answered. “I found it in the End.” He paused for a moment, feeling almost bad. “After I killed the dragon.”

“Grian! You’ve orphaned it!” Mumbo sounded scandalized.

“Why do you all keep bringing that up!?” he defended, glancing between Mumbo and Scar, who both gave him disapproving, albeit playful, looks. “I know you’re Mr. Peace, Love and Plants this time, but we’ve always killed the dragon in every new world!”

“Well, I guess that’s true, but it is a little sad isn’t it? You’re taking care of it but only because you killed its mum.”

“Yeah,” was all Grian said. The dragon always needed to be taken care of in each new world they visited, and while it was always a bit of a shame, he’d never really contemplated it that much. After all, he normally wasn’t the one who fought it--that last time in Evo aside. He didn’t really know what he had gotten into but he felt deeply like he needed to protect this egg. It was like a tug in his chest, drawing him into the egg and telling him not to let go.

“Show him the egg!” Scar said.

“You just want to see it again,” Grian replied, but pulled the egg out of the satchel again anyway for Mumbo to see. The surface of the egg wasn’t smooth, like a chicken’s egg, but bumpy. The purple spots almost seemed to glow, and occasionally little violet particles drifted off of it. Grian felt like he could stare at it in awe all day, and apparently his friends felt the same.

“How’re you going to keep it warm?” asked Mumbo after a moment of admiring it. “That satchel isn’t going to be enough, and to be frank, I don’t see you spending any time sitting on it, even if the mental image is pretty funny.”

Grian rolled his eyes at the comment, but thought about it. How would he incubate it? He may have had wings, but he didn’t know anything about eggs, other than that it was a safe bet to assume it needed to be kept warm. “I'm not sure, actually.”

“Hey, let me design something for you!” Mumbo said excitedly. “I could probably use some redstone and make an incubator of some sort for you.”

Grian smiled. “I’d really appreciate that.”

Asking Mumbo to create a contraption for him--what could go wrong?

•·················•·················•

“I’m not wearing this thing, you know.” Grian said, holding the contraption while Mumbo wheezed with laughter in the background. The design that Mumbo had come up with was essentially a backpack with heating elements strung through it, except for one thing . . .

“You-you wear it in the front,” Mumbo choked out, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Yes, I see that,” Grian replied, unamused.

“Like a swaddle!”

“Yes, I see that.”

Mumbo laughed harder. Grian had to begrudgingly admit that it was well designed, however. It would fit the egg perfectly, keep it warm, and most important it was mobile to ensure that he could take the egg with him. It was thoughtful, especially since Mumbo knew Grian was quite protective of it.

“I’m not wearing this thing,” Grian repeated. “I’m not going to let you all laugh at me while I walk around the server with an egg swaddled to me!”

“I thought you’d say that,” Mumbo chuckled. “Here, you can switch the straps around and turn it into a backpack.” He unclipped the straps and moved them into the new configuration.

“Thank you, Mumbo,” he said gratefully. “This will certainly do the trick.”

“Glad to hear it mate,” Mumbo replied. “Now, while you’re here, may I ask why there is an incredibly tall tree on top of my camper?”

“Sorry, got to go!” blurted Grian, snatching the backpack from Mumbo’s arms and flying off in a burst of feathers.

“That’s unfair, I don’t even have an elytra yet to go chase him down with,” muttered the man as he watched Grian disappear.

•·················•·················•

Grian sat in the grass in front of his starter home and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was exhausted. Is this how all parents feel? he wondered. Was he just uniquely unqualified to be one? After all, this was only an egg! It hadn’t even hatched yet and he was already tired of keeping up with it.

Carrying it in the backpack was heavy, and Grian tired out quickly. It was hot on his back, and Grian found himself having to take breaks to avoid overheating. It was also cumbersome, and he found it difficult to build with as it shifted his weight. He almost fell off the roof once while building it! Of course, having wings meant that Grian could catch himself easily, but it had still given him quite the scare. Dragon eggs were pretty sturdy, and would teleport themselves out of danger if possible, but he was still so paranoid about breaking it. And now there was the Boatem Hole to worry about--what if it teleported itself into the void? These things kept Grian awake at night.

But if he left it...well, just like Grian had a tendency to lose items in his chest monsters, he also had a tendency to forget where he placed things. He had been forced to go back and rescue the egg from some place he’d left it more than once, which he wasn’t exactly proud of. What sort of parent forgot their child?

. . . He was definitely not admitting to being its parent.

Oh God, what did I get myself into?

“Hey Grian, what’re you up to?” came a voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw Pearl standing over him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her hands were in her hoodie pockets. She took a seat on the ground next to him, and followed his gaze overlooking the Boatem village. “What’s on your mind?”

“This--this egg,” said Grian. It sat next to him in its backpack, still radiating heat. “I don’t know what to do with it. I’m just so tired of carrying it around!”

“I have to admit,” Pearl said, “I didn’t expect you to immediately adopt a baby dragon the very next time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well, it was an accident.” Grian groaned. “I don’t know what to do with it now, let alone when it hatches!”

Pearl thought for a moment. “You know, the rest of us are all here for you. The other hermits would be happy to help out, I’m sure.”

The other hermits . . . well of course they would. If it was one thing they were all good at, it was supporting each other. Scar had already taken a particular interest in the egg, although Grian was still a little suspicious of him scaring it again. Mumbo had specially designed an incubator for it. Pearl was visiting him to check up on him and offer help.

All Grian had to do was convince himself to let it go. To let them help.

“I know that but . . .”

“But what? Have you had any reason to believe they wouldn’t?” Pearl asked.

“Well, no.” He thought for a while. He thought of how his friends would lend materials when needed, or how they’d help replace someone’s armor and items if they were lost. He thought about the days where they all teamed up and chose one hermit to help out, and he thought about all the things they did for the good of the entire community without even being asked.

His desire to protect the egg was strong, and putting it into the hands of another person almost felt like simultaneously a betrayal of the egg itself and the biggest leap of faith he could take. But the hermits were good at leaps of faith, because someone was always there to catch you.

“You think it’d be okay?”

“I know it’ll be okay,” Pearl replied. “I haven’t been here very long but from what I’ve seen, I know they’d all help. They wouldn’t hurt it. They might be a little mischievous sometimes,” she said, glancing at Scar’s house, “but they know how important it is and would be happy to help. They helped you before, didn’t they?”

Pearl was right, of course. Nobody on the server had any desire to hurt the egg. He trusted that. If there was anyone that he could trust, it was them.

But how would he get them all to essentially sign up for babysitting?

An idea struck him, and Grian scrambled to his feet. “Pearl, you’re brilliant. Thank you!”

She blinked, a little startled. “Always happy to help.”

•·················•·················•

Grian stood back, admiring his work. A near perfect duplicate of the egg that was currently sitting in the backpack slung around his shoulder, but at a much larger scale. It was built out of obsidian blocks and crying obsidian for the spots, and if Grian was pretty proud of how it looked.

If Grian knew anything, it was that his friends loved minigames. And Grian was not above gently exploiting that fact to get a little help--just like barge game from the last world, where he managed to get his friends to help mine out the stone from next to his mansion. Just slap the title of “game” on something and you could get a hermit to sign up for anything.

“Now . . . I just have to write the signs on the inside.”

The game Grian had come up with was officially called Tegg--he needed to stay on brand with his tag games in every world--but he’d mentally been calling it “The Babysitting Game” for a while now. Because that’s what it really was--each hermit who signed up would also sign up to watch the egg and keep it safe. He set to work outlining the rules.

RULE ONE: Protect the egg and keep it safe.

RULE TWO: Keep the egg incubated or it’ll die.

RULE THREE: Keep a close eye on the egg.

RULE FOUR: Call Grian if it starts to hatch.

Satisfied, he wrote out the rest of the instructions. Because it was a game, he wanted to make it fun for the hermits too, so he’d decided to make it like a scavenger hunt. People were allowed to take the egg, provided they adhered to the rules, and were encouraged to hide it and keep it safe. Otherwise, someone else who wanted to have it could get it. The safer the egg was, the less likely for someone else to find it. The winner was whoever had the egg the longest when it finally hatched. Grian didn’t know how long that would take, but he didn’t want to miss it either, hence rule four.

Yep, totally outsourcing his babysitting onto his friends.

Grian squinted at his wall of signs, before placing one final sign at the bottom: Grian will track the game and has final say on points and rules!

“That should do it,” he mumbled. He still wanted to keep an eye on the egg, to make sure that he knew who had it and how many people’s hands it had gone through. After all, he was the one ultimately responsible for it.

Grian pulled the egg out of the backpack and carefully placed it on the ground. He’d somehow made a habit of just speaking to it every now and then--he had no idea if the little dragon could hear anything in there, but he liked to think that it could. “Hey there,” he whispered, and stroked the top of the egg. “Some new people are going to start taking you pretty soon, but it’s okay. They’re going to give me some help and make sure you’re safe.”

He paused, taking in the little room he’d made and the wall of signs he’d written with meticulous instructions for the egg’s care. It may have been the first thing he’d built for this egg, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be his last. A baby dragon was a commitment and for the first time Grian really let himself think about what that meant, beyond just an egg that he had to carry around. Would he house it? Train it? Let it stay by his side? Would he love it?

I think I already do, he thought.

He thought of the hermits--their mischievousness, their pranks, their hard work, their friendship, and their goodness at heart. They were his family, now. What was one more addition?

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the egg. “I trust them all with my life, but more importantly, I trust them with yours.”

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft fanfic #quara fanfic

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pingutats · 4 years ago

Note

For the “ways to say i love you” prompts, 43 please!

thank you for the request! from this list, prompt 43: "I picked these for you."

warnings: none! this is just fluff!

word count: 1.8k

. . . . .

This is definitely Harry’s domain.

Y/N hugs her shoulders as she stands in her bedroom-turned-dressing-room, staring at the rack of expensive clothes that have been left for her. Through the door, she can hear the noise of the crew bustling around her living room. This house has, of course, been the site of many Harry-hosted parties that had packed in a lot more people than there are present here today — despite that, this smaller group is threatening to become overwhelming for her.

She’s doing this for Harry. A couple of months ago, he was approached by AnOther Magazine to do a big feature with them — a kind of sequel to the one that he did when they were still called Another Man — and he’s been pouring his heart and soul into it since then. It feels like every single day, he’s been off chatting with a writer or meeting with the creative director. He dragged boxes out of storage to rifle through for mementos of his life as a solo artist last week. Y/N knows that some of their friends have been interviewed to talk about Harry. She’s pretty sure Stevie Nicks is one of them.

The centrepiece, though, is a photoshoot more intimate than he’s ever shared before. In the same way that the shoot set in his hometown years ago illustrated where he came from before he rocketed to stardom, this one will reveal who he is underneath all the make-up and glamour of fame.

Harry as he exists in private: in his home, with his girl, sharing this image of himself for the very first time.

Y/N was apprehensive at first — hell, Harry was too — but they’ve discussed it at length. He’s always been a private man, but his ethos is that honesty is integral to his art. He sings in detail about her in his music and puts that into the world with minimal censoring. This magazine feature, at its core, is just another artistic venture. He doesn’t want to hold back. When she understood it like that, it was easy for her to agree.

Her conviction that this is an important thing to do for Harry doesn’t stop the nerves, though. She’s never been a model, or even remotely a figure of interest beyond her connection to Harry. It’s his limelight that she’s stepping into. She can’t help but feel nervous about it.

The first outfit she’s wearing is a boldly patterned dress, custom-made by Gucci at Harry’s request. This isn’t the first time she’s wearing something this expensive (there are no compromises on fashion when you’re with Harry) but it still makes her feel like a fish out of water. She holds the hanger at arms-length for a moment, vaguely anxious that she might have put on weight since the fitting and it won’t fit her anymore, then carefully slips it off. She steps into it gingerly and shrugs it over her shoulders, then reaches behind her to pull the zip up as far as she can reach. She stands in front of the mirror and looks at her reflection, frowning.

Her make-up, which was done earlier, is colourful and dramatic. The point of this home shoot is to show the dichotomy between Harry’s celebrity persona and his private life, illustrated through the elaborate costuming inside their relatively normal home. She doesn’t recognise herself in it.

There’s a knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She whips around, back straightening. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?” It’s Harry’s voice, and just those four short words in his gentle tone are enough to dissolve some of her anxiety.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself into a calmer headspace. “Yeah,” she answers.

He opens the door discreetly and slips inside, careful not to reveal her to the people in the living room while she’s not properly dressed. She appreciates his caution. Although he’s apparently comfortable enough to walk around near-strangers half-naked—he’s only wearing his boxers right now—she definitely isn’t.

“Everything alright, darling?” he asks. Every step that brings him closer puts her more at ease. She’s always been an anxious person, but he’s like a drug to her. From the very first time they met, he’s been the person she feels most natural with. They just work. Things feel right with him.

She smiles at him. It’s a weak stretch of her lips, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah. Can you zip me up, please?”

“Of course.”

She turns back around to face the mirror and reaches behind her head to pull her hair out of his way. His fingers are warm against bare skin of her back, finding the zipper and dragging it up, his knuckles brushing against her skin more than is probably necessary. He fixes the way the straps sit over her shoulders with the same attention to detail that she’s seen his stylists give for him a hundred times before. His lip is tucked between his teeth as he does so, glancing from the mirror back to her, his face the image of concentration.

Finally satisfied, he takes a step back and rakes his gaze up and down her figure. “Y’look gorgeous.”

She shrugs, staring at herself. “Thanks, H.”

“I mean it.” He plants a kiss on her cheek, holding her by the waist as they look at each other through their reflections. “Pretty dress for a pretty girl.”

Heat rises in her face and she drops her gaze to the floor. “Now you’re doing too much.”

He shakes his head. “‘M not. Promise I’m not.”

She hums, appraising their reflection with a frown. Even in his underwear, Harry is Harry, and she… She feels like she’s playing dress up in someone else’s wardrobe, dipping her toes into someone else’s life. Harry is at ease in a place like this but she certainly isn’t.

Harry seems to sense this. “Something the matter?” he asks her gently.

“No, just —“ she wrings her hands in front of her, searching for the words. “I don’t feel like me.”

He furrows his brow. “I know what you mean. ’S weird when you do all this—” he flutters his hand around the room, at the rack of clothes and towards the door where they can hear someone giving directions to shift the couch slightly to the left “—just to get a photo done. And I know you’re not used to it.” He squeezes her waist gently. “But you look beautiful. Just like you always do.”

She can’t suppress a small smile at that, bumping her head against Harry’s shoulder with a quietly mouthed, “Thank you.”

He turns his head to kiss her hair, then releases his grip on her waist and moves over to the rack of clothes. “But did y’see…” He bends down to pick up a plastic container marked Look 1 from the shelf at the bottom. He opens it up to reveal various pieces of jewellery inside, and delicately picks out a couple pieces with nimble fingers. “I picked these for you.”

They’re her earrings. More specifically, they’re the earrings that he gave her for their first anniversary. A couple of dangling pearls—he’d bought them during his obsession with the gems. They’re a sweet memento of that time of their lives, of the honeymoon phase that felt like it lasted forever, that never really fizzled out even to this day. They’re her favourites.

She realises her mouth has dropped open. “When did you sneak those in?” she asks.

He shrugs, smirking. “I have my ways. I’m sneaky.” He returns to his previous position standing behind her, nudging her hair behind her ear with his knuckles. “May I?”

She nods, trying not to shiver as his fingers brush against her ears.

“There we go,” he says, stepping back. “Is that a bit better?”

The girl in the mirror looks familiar now. Despite the make-up and the dress, she can see herself. The same face, framed by the same earrings, that has accompanied Harry through all sorts of days and nights. Today is just another one of those things. Something they’re doing, together, and isn’t that all she wants, for them to do everything together?

Being with Harry is a dream she never wants to wake up from. They’ve built a paradise together and now they get to share a tiny part of it with the world—not for the world to share in it, but to see just how beautiful it is.

There’s a little part of Y/N that hopes it makes the rest of the world jealous. They should be, she thinks.

“It’s perfect, H,” she tells him, glancing over her shoulder so she looks at his real face, not just his reflection. “Honestly. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He looks proud of himself—his eyes are shining and his dimples are on display as he looks her up and down once more. “It’s all you.”

Y/N mirrors him, her gaze travelling down his body. She bites her lip.

Harry seems to remember suddenly that he’s only in his underwear—his hands fly to cover his thinly-clothed privates and he looks at her, his mouth open in a sly grin. “This is not the time,” he scolds, his shoulders shaking as he suppresses laughter.

Y/N rolls her eyes, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him to turn around. “Go get dressed, you dork.”

. . . . .

The suit that Harry wears is made out of the same material as Y/N’s dress, bright and bold colours. The photographer is accomodating of her nerves as he has them sit on the couch. The window is wide open to allow the natural light to illuminate their faces, and the Y/N can feel the warmth of the sun on her face. The sky is a brilliant blue. It’s a perfect day.

“Okay, look this way,” the photographer tells her, drawing her attention from the window to the camera. “A little closer, Harry.”

Harry shifts over, his thigh pressing against hers. His hand comes to rest on her knee, then lifts suddenly as if he’s remembered something. “Hang on a minute,” he says to the photographer, holding up a finger.

He twists around to face Y/N and carefully sweeps her hair back over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear to ensure the pearl earring is on clear display. She smiles at him, which he returns in a quick unspoken exchange of gratitude and care.

“Alright,” Harry says, settling back to face the photographer. His hand finds Y/N’s and he squeezes it. “We’re good.”

The camera clicks and the flash goes off. Their hands remain joined on Harry’s lap.

. . . . .

hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, a reblog & any kind of message would be really appreciated. i'm open to any requests, from the prompt list linked above or from your own imagination, which you can send here. all my other writing is linked on my masterlist. have a lovely day!

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #fic

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