#by which I mean yesterday I spent far too long far too late working on my cover letter with my dad so today I was working with reduced sleep

[silverskyy]

I better end up getting this job, after the Miles Of Stress trying to apply for it has given me in the past 24 hours 😵‍💫

[stevie-petey]

first of all: the new chapter was AMAZING as always!! i know you are probably so so so busy with move in and classes starting and writing come home already, but i had a blurb idea (and it will obviously ALWAYS be dustin and steve interaction) of steve hanging out with dustin alone sometime soon after you get together, and them talking about it for the first time? it doesn't have to be any particular way i'm just SO curious what dustin's reaction was beyond the knee-jerk "ew you kissed my sister but also thank god because it took you long enough you moron"

stebe n dust <333

enjoy !

“you sure youre okay with driving dustin to mikes?”

steve rolls his eyes fondly at you. “yes, angel. its not even a ten minute drive. i can handle the kid.”

“i know. its just,” you bite your lip, unsure of how to voice what youre thinking. your brows scrunch together and steve thinks youre painfully adorable when youre overthinking. “its too hot for him to bike there, but you and i just started dating and dustin is… well. hes dustin.”

“you worried he’ll lecture me or something?”

“more like ask really invasive questions.”

steve laughs and kisses your hand, body leaning over the counter at your work. hes spent the entire days at bookstrordinary just to talk to you since scoops burned down. when he isnt job searching with robin, hes here with you.

“have some faith in me, y/n. im a big boy, i can take care of myself.”

you blink at him. “you cried yesterday when a lizard ran across your leg.”

“okay, thats entirely different. that thing looked at me with its beady little eyes and dared me to fight him.” steve shudders. “that thing was sentient.”

“youre really not making me feel any better about this, honey.” you groan, already dreading whatever your brother will say to him. youre sure dustin will somehow give the most bizarre, overly obnoxious yet endearing lecture known to man.

steve rolls his eyes again and grabs his keys, reluctantly pulling away from you. “i bet the kid forgot we’re even together now. relax, i’ll be back in no time.”

you call one last good luck to him before hes hone, leaving you alone in the store as the late july heat simmers the air.

at first everything is great. dustin is waiting for steve in the driveway and hops inside the car without any complaints. he turns the radio one and even smiles at steve.

but then, as dustin always does, he opens his mouth.

“i better not catch you sucking face with my sister.”

“dustin!” steve blanches, utterly mortified by what the boy has said. he almost veers off the road with how violently he cringes.

“im just saying! you two are weirdly touchy, and now that youre together, which by the way took you way too long to even do,” dustin looks pointedly at steve, who sighs. “i dont want you getting any gross ideas.”

the older teen rubs his face tiredly. he lasted three minutes. three blissful, quiet minutes. “good to know youre happy for us, then.”

dustin thinks for a moment. “well, i guess y/n could do worse. better than jonathan, at least.”

“thanks, dustin.” steve deflates, not at all believing the kid.

dustin recognizes the apprehension and he uncomfortably shifts in his head. he doesnt necessarily want to be all touchy-feely with the guy, but he also recognizes how much you love him. how good you and steve are together.

coughing, dustin looks out the window. he knows this is what youd want. “im happy she found you, steve.”

by now the wheelers driveway can be seen, but because steve is so startled by what dustin has confessed, he almost misses the turn.

clearing his own throat awkwardly, steve parks the car and looks at dustin. “you, uh. really mean that?”

“please dont make this any more unbearable.” the kid quips, leaning as far away from him as possible.

“right,” steve clears his throat again and unlocks the passenger door. he tugs at his seatbelt, needing something to do with his hands. “off you go, then.”

dustin quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and nearly falls out of the car in his hurry to leave. hes standing and about to walk away before he stops, turning around. leaving over the window, dustin lowers his voice. “hey, one last thing.”

steves voice catches in his throat, scared of where this is going. “yeah?”

ducking his head down, too shy to meet the other boys gaze, dustin finally says, “dont hurt y/n, alright? she-she really loves you. i know you love her, too. but shes… shes the best person in the world and im trusting you to be kind to her.”

“i…” steve stares at dustin, surprised by the sincerity in his voice and yet incredibly touched that hes being so vulnerable with him. to have your brother trust steve enough to be with you, to trust he wont hurt someone as selfless and soft as you, it means more to steve than dustin will ever know.

after years of being cruel to his classmates and growing up believing he wasnt worthy of anything gentle, steve cant believe hes being entrusted with you in his life.

it doesnt feel real, sometimes. being able to love you.

“i promise i’ll be kind to y/n,” steve says softly, meeting dustins eyes. its weird, being so delicate with the kid, but hes shared a lot with him, so its only fair steve does the same. “its because of her that im kind.”

“me, too.” dustin whispers. his eyes gleam, his mischievous smile is back. “guess we learned from the best, huh?”

steve laughs. “yeah, i guess we did.”

[mollywog]

Wild Wednesdays

a Valentine’s bonus

Suggested by @rarepairheathen 🩶 and when I realized Valentine’s was on a Wednesday this year, I had to work something up!

Pretend there’s another chapter of WW posted in which Katniss and Peeta begin dating (sometime around September of the previous year) - This would be their first Valentine’s together.

The date hadn’t even crossed her mind when she’d agreed to watch Daisy on Wednesday as usual. She should have guessed from Gale’s thinly veiled glee at her confirmation of a long standing arrangement that something was up. But it wasn’t until she saw the look of surprise and the hint of disappointment on Peeta’s face that she realized her mistake and by then it was too late to back out. She’d committed herself to Daisy duty on their first Valentine’s Day together.

February was a big month at the bakery and while Peeta was busy ensuring everyone else’s perfect Valentine’s Day, she was certain she’d just derailed theirs. But Peeta took it in stride, inviting his nephews over as well and assuring her it would be better to celebrate on Saturday anyways.

So they spend their first Valentine’s Day together like any other Wednesday, with the addition of a few extra hearts and pink sprinkles.

Once the children have been collected and the kitchen cleaned, they make their way up to Peeta’s apartment, flopping on the couch to recover. She’s just deciding it’s time to head to her house when, as if sensing her intentions, Peeta picks up her foot, and begins rubbing circles into her arches. She sinks back into the sofa, moaning her approval, her resolve melting.

“Stay?”

Nothing sounds better at this moment. “I can’t. No clothes,” she mumbles. She usually stays on Wednesdays, but then she’d accidentally fallen asleep here last night and this morning had to decide between re-wearing Tuesday’s outfit or borrowing something 3 sizes too big from Peeta’s wardrobe. She spent the day swimming in Peeta’s smallest sweater and yesterday’s leggings. It was cozy and smelled like Peeta, but she’d had to listen to Haymitch and Rue’s teases all day. Between work, and picking up Daisy, she had yet to make it to her house at all today.

“I’m sure I could find a small Mellark’s shirt downstairs. You could wear it with one of my flannels?”

“Do you have some Mellark underwear down there too?” She pokes his ribs with her free foot.

“Fresh out.” He moves his ministrations from her foot to her calf and she lets out another appreciative moan. “Turn today’s inside out?”

She scrunches her nose at him.

“Commando is really underrated, you know.” Blocking the pillow she flings, He sighs, “alright.” Despite his acquiescence, he picks up her other foot and resumes his massage. She closes her eyes, dreading the moment he’ll let go.

“You’re always welcome here, you know that right?”

She opens one eye to peek at him, “I know, but I thought we just determined that I couldn’t stay.”

“Yeah, but I mean not just tonight; anytime.”

She opens the other eye to get a better look at him. He shifts in his seat under her gaze. “Even if I’m out late with Prim and feel the urge to come over at some ‘ungodly’ hour? like 9:15?” She bites back a smile at the memory.

“About that,” he stands, lifting her feet from his lap and placing them in his vacated spot while he heads to the next room, returning with a single key.

“What’s that for? I already know the door code to get in.”

He rolls his eyes, “it’s a copy of the master key to the whole building and it’s supposed to be a symbolic gesture: a physical reminder and more permanent than a fleeting key code… It was also part of your Valentine’s gift, so Saturday will be a bit of a let down.”

She suspects that’s far from true, but she couldn’t care less about Saturday right now.

“I know we haven’t been together long, but you know where I stand and I think we’re on the same page,” he shoots her a nervous glance and she hoists herself up on her elbows, nodding her agreement. Emboldened by her assent, he continues, “I love having you here. Falling asleep and waking up next to you, even if you steal all the covers and take up way more than your share of the bed.” She rolls her eyes. “I love being the person you come to after a long day at work to commiserate or celebrate with and even just existing in the same space; when I’m painting and you reading, to look up and see you there. I don’t want to rush or pressure, or scare you, but know my home is yours whenever you’re ready.”

She’s neither pressured nor scared, just giddy anticipation. Prim had moved in with her girlfriend shortly after Katniss had begun seeing Peeta. For all the years she had put Prim’s needs before her own, she hadn’t noticed Prim doing the same for her. It had taken Prim moving out for Katniss to realize why her sister had stayed so long; to keep her from being alone.

With Peeta in her life and Prim no longer there, the house feels more like a bed and a closet than home. She’s ready for this change, she realizes she has been for some time. “okay.”

“Okay?” He says tentatively.

“Okay,” She smiles up at him, reaching for the hand outstretched towards her with the key, instead grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to the couch with her.

It was a pretty good Valentine’s after all.

[pencil-peach]

GWitch Onscreen Text: Episode 17 PART 1: PRE-DUEL

It is time. This is part 18 of my series where I attempt to transcribe and discuss all the text that appears on text and screens in G Witch. We have reached The Big One. Episode 17: "Precious Things."

HOWEVER....

This episode will be handled slightly differently. There is a lot to say about it, and a majority of it does not actually have to do with text.

AND SO. For the sake of keeping things organized, this episode shall be SPLIT INTO PARTS.

This first part covers the PRE-DUEL, primarily going over the parallels and symbolism to scenes in Season 1.

The next part will cover much the same, but during the DUEL itself. It will most likely be much smaller, but it doesn't hurt to keep things separate.

With all that said, the conclusion draws near.

<;< If you aren't ready, you can click here to return to Episode 15. Or, if you'd like, the Masterpost's loving arms can be found here.

But if you are truly ready, then let us begin.

PREFACE

(That's right this shit is STRUCTURED.) Episode 17 is probably one of my favorite episodes of the show (even if it's difficult to sit through) because of how utterly dense it is with its parallels to Season 1. For Miorine, Suletta, and Guel, it feels like nearly every scene is stacked with comparisons to past events, to highlight where the characters are now versus where they were back then.

The bulk of the parallels are contained to events that occurred within the first 6 episodes, which makes sense, as those 6 episodes are when the characters were living their most "normal" school lives. So we'll go through the episode piece by piece and I'll highlight comparisons I've found and what they mean as we go along. I might miss some, or maybe I'm reading too deep for others, but if you're this far in, I'm going to assume you have at least a LITTLE faith in my judgment, even if it's not always super clean.

With all that said, let us begin.

PRE-DUEL

Episode 17 opens with Miorine confronting Prospera (Left). This parallels Episode 2, where Miorine confronts Delling (Right). In both cases, Miorine is confronting an adult regarding Suletta's fate. But unlike in Episode 2, where she's the one making a demand (to allow Suletta to duel for the right to be her fiancée), in Episode 17, a demand is being made of her. (To become President and take over Quiet Zero, and to facilitate a final duel for Suletta.)

Whereas Delling admonished Miorine for daring to speak without power, "I am vested with power. You have none." Prospera is demanding that Miorine accumulate power. "Make me a promise. That you'll become the next president."

The parallel of Miorine making a promise with Prospera in this Episode as opposed to the one she made with Suletta in Episode 3 is obvious, but did you notice that the hallway they're in (top left) is structured almost identically to the room Prospera was waiting in on Plant Quetta in Episode 11 (Bottom left), and where she convinces Suletta it's okay to take other's lives in Episode 12? (Top and Bottom Right)

In the next scene, after the opening, we see Miorine waking up in her room (Left). Season 1 also had a scene of Miorine waking up from sleep in Episode 4 (Right), but it's a lot different.

In Episode 4, Miorine is woken up by Suletta staying up late to study, and asks her why she's working so hard. When Suletta responds that she's doing it for the sake of the Mercurians, Miorine responds that that's "a drag," saying that she shouldn't have to carry that kind of burden and should only live for herself. Suletta responds that it's what she wants to do, and Miorine sardonically responds, "How noble of you," before silently heading back to sleep.

Compare that with this small, silent scene of Miorine slowly dragging herself out of bed, clutching her head because she clearly spent hours yesterday and long into the night trying to figure out how to free Suletta from her mothers clutches AND fulfill all of Prospera's demands. She's running herself ragged all for the sake of someone else, going against her philosophy in Episode 4.

There's also the fact that Suletta isn't with her in 17's scene. We see in Episode 4 that Miorine and Suletta are comfortable sleeping with each other, but she's chosen to sleep alone, with Suletta waiting patiently outside the door. (Oh, and also, did you notice that Miorine's room is clean?)

Following that is a scene where Miorine and Suletta discuss Miorine's Birthday, Suletta's wish list, and their marriage. This is reminiscent of a similar scene in Episode 3 where they discuss much the same thing. Both scenes open up the discussion with Suletta denying a proposition from Miorine:

In Episode 3, Miorine is telling Suletta that she must win the rematch against Guel, to which she shyly mutters that she doesn't want to (Top Right) causing Miorine to react in shock. In Episode 17, Miorine asks Suletta what she would do if she asked her to get rid of Aerial, to which Suletta confidently responds that she wouldn't do it, (Top Left) to this, Miorine silently continues walking up the stairs.

The major difference is that in Episode 3, Miorine continues trying to convince Suletta to agree to the duel, explaining to her why it will be fine, but in Episode 17, she is silent. She doesn't explain or discuss anything. She just moves ahead.

When discussing their marriage, the roles have shifted. In Episode 3, (Bottom Right) Miorine is explaining that they won't actually be married until her birthday comes, in order to calm Suletta's fears about them being actually married.

In Episode 17, (Bottom Left) Suletta brings up Miorine's birthday, specifically because she's decided that she actually wants to marry her. It's now Miorine who is reluctant, due to the burdens she's carrying.

Next is a scene with Shaddiq attempting to enlist the Peil Witches into his bid for President. It's similar to Episode 7's opening scene, where Sarius is enlisting the Peil Witches for his plan to expose Aerial as a Gundam. The Parallel comes from the contrasting intentions of each Zenelli.

Sarius is enlisting the Witches in order to expose Aerial as a Gundam and get it scrapped, re-burying Gundams forever. He is staunchly against the existence of Gundams, and this will never change. Whereas Shaddiq is enlisting the witches with the explicit promise of making Gundams core to the Group's business. They are at opposite ends of the political spectrum in this regard.

But in both cases, Peil agrees, making use of the plan for their own ends. Also, in Shaddiq's meeting, a Jeturk is not present.

Okay time for the first Biggun. This scene starts off with parallels to episode 5, in that Suletta is upset by Elan in both scenes. In 17 (Left), she's accosted by 5lan, demanding that she give him Aerial. In 3 (Right), she's upset by El4n when he calls her annoying.

Unlike in Episode 3 though, where Suletta cries in response to El4n's harsh words, she responds to 5lan by shoving him away, showing how she's grown more confident in herself and her faithfulness to Miorine.

Following this, Guel Jeturk shows up and asks Elan what he's doing to her. In Episode 3 (Right) he showed up mostly for his own pride, but switched to a more protective tone when he saw that El4n had made Suletta cry. But in this scene, (Left) he showed up because he saw she was in trouble.

Guel and Elan's roles are completely reversed here. Whereas before (Right), Guel was flippant and emotional in response to El4n's calm demeanor, the opposite is true for Guel with 5lan. Guel (Left) maintains his composure, and 5lan loses his cool when Guel asks him what he's so afraid of.

It might seem like the Episode 5 parallels end here, but did you notice what kind of weapon 5lan is using in this scene? It's a taser.

An electrical weapon that causes paralysis.

Unlike before, Guel keeps a steady head, and he wins this duel against 5lan, pinning him to the ground. At the end of the battle, Elan isn't holding his hand up in victory (Right) but in defeat (Left).

Guel also says, "Cut it out. If you ruin this place, no apology will get you off the hook." Paralleling his behavior in Episode 1. Instead of being the one destroying the greenhouse, he's the one protecting it this time.

Following this, Suletta and Guel have a 1 on 1 conversation. This is the 3rd time they have one in the series. They have one in Episode 3, (Left) when Suletta tells him her mother's motto. They have a second one in Episode 9 (Middle) where they talk about how Guel's father has forbidden him to duel, and finally they have this one in Episode 17 (Right) where Guel discusses his desire to rebuild the Jeturk company, and protect the things precious to him.

The parallel is obvious in the sense that in both prior discussions, Guel is learning something from Suletta, and now he's finally putting those lessons to use, but did you notice that all 3 conversations have a shot of Guel's hand?

In Episode 3, when Suletta is talking about her mother, Guel holds his hand up to his cheek before closing it into a fist. In Episode 9, he brings his hand from his pocket, but doesn't close it. He holds it out limply. And in Episode 17, he once again brings his hand up and closes it. Each scene is representative of his current conviction.

Episode 3 is titled "Guel's Pride." He brings his hand up to the cheek his father slaps him across before closing it. It represents his current conviction: His pride. Proving himself as worthy in the eyes of his father. Episode 9 is titled "If I Could Take One More Step Towards You." The obvious allusion is to Miorine and Shaddiq's relationship, but it's also about Guel's relationship to Suletta. Their conversation ends with Suletta running down a lighted path, with Guel watching her go. He brings his hand out to his side, but DOESN'T close it, because he no longer has a sense of purpose: He's lost his conviction. He's scared of facing his father, and thus can't follow Suletta. Episode 17 is titled "Precious Things." After everything that's happened, Guel has returned to Asticassia with a new conviction: To protect the things precious to him. After losing his way, he's found the path forward, and once again closes his fist, confident in himself and his sense of purpose.

There's also the parallels between both confessions scenes. When Guel confesses and is rejected the first time (Left), he becomes spiteful and mean, but now (Right), he's understanding, and even happy for her love with Miorine. He's truly changed.

Miorine then comes out from behind the greenhouse, and demands a duel between Suletta and Guel. (Left) This is an obvious inversion of the scene from Episode 1 (Right). Where she demands Suletta NOT duel Guel.

The following scene, where Miorine requests Guel's help (Left) is also an inversion of the scene from Episode 4 (Right) where she offers to help Suletta with the Threat Detection Makeup exam.

Both scenes take place in her room, and both scenes see her kneeling over her plants, gently pushing upon the leaves as she speaks. The fact that she's talking to Guel and Suletta respectively is an obvious inversion, but in Episode 4, she's telling Suletta that she can take care of both the Mechanic and Spotter positions herself, saying she doesn't need help, but in 17's scene, she's specifically ASKING Guel for his help, because this is something she can't do on her own.

The next scene in the Dueling Comittee Lounge (Left) is, obviously, paralleling the similar scene in Episode 3 (Right). Down to this shot of Secelia seemingly being reused from that episode. In both scenes, Secelia taunts Guel, but as opposed to Episode 3, where he becomes enraged and fickle, in Episode 17 he confidently disregards her, saying, "The Jeturk emblem is the lion. So call me a lion, not a dog," much to her surprise.

But there's actually some more interesting parallels here.

Firstly, Episode 3's Oath is officiated by El4n (Top Right), whereas Episode 17's Oath is officiated by Rouji's HARO (Top Left), two characters that are considered to be robotic and emotionless.

In both duels, Suletta requests something of Guel for the sake of others. In Episode 3, she asks him to apologize to Miorine (Bottom Right), and in Episode 17, she asks him to help stop the harassment of Earth House (Bottom Left).

Ah, and did you notice? Episode 3's duel takes place in the 7th tactical testing sector, a lucky number. Episode 17's duel takes place in the 13th tactical testing sector. It looks like Suletta's luck has run out.

In both episodes, there's a scene following the oath with Guel speaking to Miorine and Suletta respectively. Both scenes even share multiple shots. Both scenes are also conversations involving, to some extent, Prospera. And both scenes, interestingly enough, has Guel end the conversation with a statement that calls into question the respective girl's belief (intentionally or otherwise).

In Episode 3 (Right) Suletta says, "My mother is always strong and kind," to which Guel asks, "A good parent, huh?" In Episode 17 (Left) Miorine says, "I want that girl to be happy. She needs a world where she can be free from Gundams or anything else," to which Guel mutters, "There are no worlds like that."

In both cases, he doesn't elaborate on what he means, but in both cases, his intuition is right.

Perhaps some of this is a pushing it, but prior to the duel, both Episode 3 and 17 share two similar scenes. Both episodes have a scene in which Miorine has installed something on Suletta's phone in reference to the duel, and both scenes also have a scene where two characters discuss their intent to interfere with the upcoming duel.

In Episode 3 (Right) This entails Miorine installing her contact info onto Suletta's phone without her permission, and Vim and Lauda discussing the arrangement of the sprinklers to go off.

In Episode 17 (Left) This entails Miorine installing the "Victory Charm" on Suletta's phone, and Miorine and Prospera discussing when to deactivate Aerial during the duel. It's yet another inversion in that now, it's Jeturk house who's playing fairly, and it's Miorine who's working to ensure Suletta will lose.

When Guel is asked by Kamil about the decision making AI, in Episode 17 (Left) he says he doesn't care about it, and to leave it in. Stating that "Pride alone won't defeat Suletta Mercury." This parallels the scene from Episode 3 (Right), where he gets incredibly mad about it, yelling, "Am I not skilled enough to win?!" Only to be slapped by Vim once more, telling him that "There's no room here for childish pride."

Guel also cuts his hair. The Jeturk family's hair are all based on lion manes, and Guel cutting his mane short is emblematic of discarding his prideful nature. It's also to show how he's brought himself closer to his father, who's hair was also cut short.

The following scene, where Guel apologizes to Lauda in front of the Darilbalde (Left), parallels the scene in Episode 4 where Lauda apologized to him under similar circumstances (Right).

In Episode 4, the Darilbalde was destroyed, emblematic of the strained relationship between the two, but now it has been repaired. Even still, will it be maintained?

As the MS suit containers roll into position, we get this shot of the Dueling Committee, both in Episode 17 (Right) and Episode 3 (Left) It's much emptier now, huh? GRAAAAAGH And that's all the parallels I can find for the Pre-Duel segment of the episode. Houuaauhhh there was a lot here and it was a lot of work, but it was also a lot of fun, and it really goes to show how tight this season's script is. Every scene feels intentional.

Anyhow, that's all for this part. Next time in part 2, we'll be discussing the Duel's parallels. If you've made it this far, thank you so very much, I truly appreciate it. I'll see you next time!

Click here to go to Part 2 >> Click here to go to the Masterpost.

[highlordofkrypton]

Wildflowers, a Tamlin x Rhysand prequel fic

Note: Is this the title drop chapter???

Chapter 8

During the days in Adriata, the war doesn’t exist. No one is dying; everyone is free. It’s a selfish feeling, one that Rhysand reprimands himself over and over again, but it’s true . His father wants nothing to do with him, especially not in peace talks, so he spends his days waiting for Tamlin to (inevitably) make his early exit from the war room. 

“Bored, already? It’s barely noon.”

“They’re breaking for lunch.” 

Whenever he leaves the High Lords, Tamlin seems heavier. Sombre. As if he’s carrying an unseen weight on his shoulders. Rhysand had thought it was the pressure of becoming the Heir, but as far as his conversations have revealed, Tamlin maintains no interest in power. 

Ah, so just the pressures of being a warhead, Rhysand had mused to himself upon that realization. 

“Are you bored? It’s barely noon,” Tamlin adds, a small smile dancing on his lips. 

“Thought you might need some rescuing.”

They’ve spent too much time together. In just a handful of interactions—two days, to be exact—Rhysand can see the way Tamlin lights up with curiosity about the new adventures they’ll get up to together. Yesterday, they’d walked around the market midday, and Tamlin taught him the meaning of the flowers for sale. He’d bought some seeds that the Spring Prince promised would thrive in the Night Court’s climate and sent them back to his mother and his sister.

“My father is going to establish his terms today; I need to be back for… posturing. So, no rescuing possible. Not today, unfortunately.”

“Ah, so the big bad wolf must be in attendance.”

“Mhm,” Tamlin nods. He would rather be anywhere else, honestly. His father would be terribly disappointed to know he hasn’t been listening for the past few days. Before going to the market, Rhysand had stood beneath the window, distracting him like an immature child. Tamlin, being the mature one of the two, did not laugh. He coughed into his hand. Several times, like a grown Faerie.

“Maybe you can rescue me .”

Tamlin’s blonde brow arches in curiosity. There isn’t anything he’s aware of that Rhysand couldn’t get himself out of; he’s seen him talk. That tongue is made of silver. “Go on?”

“Tarquin caught me. I can only avoid him for so long, and since you’re the one who’s been taking up most of my time—”

“You’re the one who won’t leave me alone.”

Rhysand smiles, sucking air through his teeth feigning annoyance. “Since you’re the only one I have patience for these days, perhaps you could attend his party with me tonight. Technically, it’s still the same party that Lucien invited us to. These things tend to go on for days,” he waves his hand lazily.

“Oh… I… I don’t go to parties.”

“It’s never too late to start.”

“My brothers will be there.”

“We can meet there.”

“I don’t drink.”

“You had mead.”

Pale brows furrows. Tamlin has never learned to say ‘no’, so he dances around the subject, hoping Rhysand will get the message. It clearly isn’t working. So, he tries again. “I’m not allowed.”

“You’re not a child, Little Lord. You can do whatever you please. If you want to go to the party, go. If you don’t, then say so.”

“I don’t want to go,” Tamlin says almost immediately, frowning at the pet name.

“May I ask why?”

It feels like a trap, but all Tamlin can do is sigh and acquiesce. “You may.”

“Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Oh,” he says softly. Tamlin was just being polite. “I don’t feel comfortable. Ever since the war started, I was to stay home and train. If I was strong enough, I could accompany my mother if she chose to leave our Court. She never risked it.” It was the smart choice. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I could teach you. It’s about enjoying yourself.”

All the support in the world won’t change Tamlin’s mind. He simply isn’t ready to go that far. Instead, he makes a face which tells Rhysand all he needs to know. He doesn’t push; he just puts his arm around his friend’s shoulder and makes a counter-offer. “Let’s go forage for some lunch for you, then?” And hey, it gets Tamlin to laugh. Bully for Rhysand.

An hour later, Tamlin is deposited at the meeting room doors safe and full of veggies, as he should be.

***

Tarquin’s home is a mansion on a different cliff face. The walls are non-existent, and the marble roof is held up by ornate Corinthian columns, like an open-faced temple to hedonism and pleasure. One thing Rhysand cannot fault the Summer Court for—they are a people of culture and arts. As hard as they work, they play even harder. He admires the architecture, respecting its human origins augmented by Faerie opulence.

Rhysand arrives fashionably late, a habit he indulges when seeking to leave an impression. He cares little for the people here, even if half of them cause him no issue. They are not friends nor foes, not even Lucien who is a social butterfly. (A nagging thought in the back of his mind suggests: he would make a good spy , but Rhysand trusts few outside of his circle… unless they’ve done something to earn his trust.) After all, he has an image to uphold: the Night Court, a place as vicious, if not more so, than the Autumn and Spring Courts combined.

“Rhys! You made it. You’re late, but you’re here,” Tarquin, the younger cousin of the High Lord, skips over. At seventeen, just two years younger than Tamlin, he has yet to have his growth spurt. His flowing white hair is stark against his ebony skin, but his features complement his pale blue eyes. He thrusts a goblet of wine into Rhysand’s hands and encourages him to down it with him, which he obliges. Age is but a number when it comes to Tarquin and his parties, as long as everyone’s having fun.

“If the party never stops, is there such a thing as being late? I’m from the Night Court, and I don’t go out in the sun. It gives me such an unfortunate sense of time.” 

Tarquin laughs, a light chiming sound. He bids the son of the Night Court farewell and twirls enough to get his aquamarine robes to glitter from the motion. A little bit of errant magic after too much wine never hurt anyone.

Guests are scattered all over the place, from the crystalline pool that overlooks the cliff’s edge to the flaming hearth surrounded by luxurious violet velvet chairs or the three-tiered fountain with live fish and fresh fruit floating in it. Rhysand plucks a floating fig out of the fountain and takes a bite out of it. The sweetness of its flesh is elevated by the drops of seawater still on its skin.

Tamlin would like this , he thinks.

This would taste even better with wine, he amends. He can’t explain why his thoughts immediately went to the other lord. He’s not around; he won’t be. Out of sight, out of mind, Rhysand.

“Look who decided to show up,” Morrigan slides up next to Rhysand, brushing shoulders with her. Perfect as ever, not even a single blonde hair out of place. 

“I thought you said I wasn’t missing much.”

“About that,” she hesitates. There’s a crash of something expensive breaking, laughter and a snarl. Rhysand’s attention wavers, and she turns him to face her. “Rhysand, you need to control yourself. Remember where you are and who you are surrounded by.”

“What are you talking about?” More sounds of chaos, yet every time he tries to follow it, Morrigan demands that he focus on her. “If there’s something interesting going on, why wouldn’t I ogle?” Rhysand grew up surrounded by these High Fae, most of whom are older than him, but he likes to think he knows them well enough that they cannot surprise him anymore.

Morrigan sighs and lets him go. She doesn’t even bother to follow. There are some headaches that can be prevented. Not this one, but she would like to finish her wine and enjoy the buzz before it’s effectively shat on.

Time seems to slow from the moment Rhysand steps into the lounge room. A sitting area has been carved into the marble floor, filled with more of the plush velvet cushions Tarquin seems to enjoy. Sitting in it is half the Autumn Court—Beron has way too many sons—and only two sons of the Spring Court. Rhysand’s eyes narrow at them.

“Up, boy! Come on, up, up!” One of the red-headed Fae pats his lap, trying to coax Tamlin like a dog. “Roll over, Lordling. Stick your tongue out. That’s what the humans teach their filthy mutts, don’t they? You think you can get a human to fuck you in your beast form? Bet you could.”

“Why don’t we try it? Look at him; he probably would enjoy it, too.” Another of Beron’s sons adds. They all share the same shit temper and auburn hair. As for telling them apart, Rhysand never cared to put in the effort.

“A leash would be more suitable,” says another. “Fits his role in this battle better than any armour.”

Tamlin growls, but there’s an uncharacteristic slur to it. Rhysand can’t get a good look at him but catches the loll of his head against his seat. His blood turns to ice. He doesn’t think. Anything Morrigan said to him might as well be non-existent. He has the mind to maintain his cold and calculating demeanour, which his father raised him to have as a guise (that he should one day adopt as his true self). 

“Pathetic,” he sneers at them, schooling his expression to be mocking.

Several heads whip in his direction, none of them welcoming. 

“Halfbreed, don’t you have somewhere to be? Somewhere where you’re wanted? Oh wait, you don’t,” says Tamlin’s oldest brother and the future Heir to the Spring Court, Enfys. “Why else would he sack you with a shitty little frontline legion? He doesn’t care if you live or die?”

“You can’t even get a seat in the war room. Did you think we’d pity you?”

“At least I can hold my own in battle. I don’t have to resort to poison,” Rhysand folds his arms and looks pointedly at Tamlin. “You know that’s a coward’s tool.”

“You sure of that? I’ll duel you here and now,” offers another Autumn son. They’re rather chatty tonight.

Tamlin tries to get up and fails miserably. He’s drunk off his ass. How much did they give him? By his size, they would have had to feed him barrels of wine. Most of them laugh. Rhysand doesn’t. He simply cocks a brow.

Rhysand could kill them all. (Slowly. Artfully.) He doesn’t, though. He just plucks a goblet of wine and hops down to sit with them. The room grows darker, ever so slightly, the night containing all his rage. “That’s faebane, right? I’ve never seen it work up close.” He has. On the battlefield, but only in the shape of physical weaponry. Maybe if they’re stupid enough, they’ll tell him all the important details without him even asking.

“The Little Prince won’t die. It’s a low dosage; it’ll wear off in a couple of hours.” The wine births loose tongues, especially from the Autumn Court. 

Rhysand brings the goblet to his lips and only lets the wine touch it. His throat bobs with the feigned motion of drinking. Violet eyes hone in on Tamlin, but flit immediately to Enfys whenever anyone looks at him. “You could at least try to hide your fear of your baby brother .” His sharpened words cut are aimed straight for his core.

Enfys snorts. “He hasn’t been a baby in a long time. He needs to learn to hold his alcohol and his own.” The dark blonde High Fae shares similar features to Tamlin, but sharper and lined with bitterness. 

Eris, High Lord Berdon’s oldest son, is more than happy to chime in. “You expect us to believe this is what we have to work with in our alliance? C’mon, Tammy, time for you to find a maiden to take as spoils of war.”

“We’re in a ceasefire,” Rhys snaps, taking another casual false sip. “There is no war, and there are no spoils.”

“You really think that? While the Prythian High Lords waste their time holding hands, the war continues, and you lose a little more.” Eris counters. 

“We’re just teaching Tammy how to celebrate,” an unimportant Autumn son adds. “Shouldn’t he already know how to fuck? Leading the Calanmai is Prythian’s greatest honour. You won’t get very far like that, Little Cub.”

“Calanmai,” mumbles the youngest Spring son.

The Calanmai is an important tradition in the Prythian, and it is the Spring Court’s responsibility to uphold it. It signals the start of spring for the Continent, and the celebration itself is a ritual meant to gather magic and release it once more back into the land. All the High Lords participate, but it is the Spring Court that leads. Of course, Tamlin would want that honour. Not for the sex, which is essentially what the great ritual is, but to make his father proud and to give back all that he has taken from nature in the name of his war.

Of course, Rhysand sighs to himself.

Morrigan stumbles into the room, barely staying atop her crimson heels. “I’ll take him,” she grins, falling to her knees and cupping Tamlin’s cheeks. She tilts his head backwards and whispers something in his ear. The growl that rumbles in his throat is loud enough to vibrate in the chests of those around. Everyone watches them, even Rhysand’s eyes narrow, as she takes his hand and pulls him up.

“What does the Morrigan want with my brother? You don’t expect us to let him leave with you?” Enfys asks, guarded. 

“I want to know if he can fuck like a bull. Cauldron knows none of you can get a female off. Is that not what you wanted for him?” She sticks a manicured finger up in their direction. Not the thumb, the ring or the pinky. The one meant to offend the delicate senses of proper lordlings. “You can try to stop me.” She glances at the dark cushions. “The blood won’t even show,” she sneers at them.

Her departure pulls the tension between the young lords even more taut. Rhysand has been left alone with a room of wolves, but no matter. Wolves always yield to the night.

***

“Mor! What the hell were you thinking,” Rhysand growls, barrelling down their guest quarters in Nostrus’ home. The fae lights have been dimmed, adding an intimacy to the atmosphere. Over the sound of his raging heart, he can still pick up the soothing hush of waves.

“Thank you, Mor. You’re Mother sent, Mor. I owe you everything , Mor.” The High Faerie leans against her door, arms crossed and looking perfectly unimpressed. (Also, without a hint of inebriation.) 

“I had it under control! You think I needed you to put yourself in that position for me?”

Morrigan rolls her hazel eyes. “You lost control the second you realized it was Tamlin. You can lie to Sieffre and the idiots of the Autumn and Spring Courts, but I’ve known you your whole life. Cut the shit. You should have put me in that position if it was going to achieve your goals.” She sighs. While she doesn’t agree with his father’s calculating methods, she firmly believes that Rhysand can stand to learn from the High Lord of the Night Court. The dynamics in place between Courts have existed for millenia, as well as each of their reputations. He could at least learn to fake it. 

Rhysand sucks in a breath through his teeth, a sharp, irritated sound. She’s right. He knows she is. 

“And stop treating him like he’s a child. He’s not you and he’s not your responsibility. With the way these talks are going, we’ll be back on opposite sides soon enough.” And I don’t want to see you get hurt, remains unspoken. Morrigan turns her head and cups her ear, waiting expectantly for what she wants to hear.

“You deserve better. I’m sorry and thank you .”

“Cauldron knows I do.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh, I know you will.” 

The door rattles behind Morrigan, and it's coupled with the crash of furniture. She smiles and kisses Rhysand’s cheek. “The faebane and the wine are wearing off. He’s a bit angry. Rightfully so. Good luck! Love you!” She escapes before Rhysand can try to coax her for more help. She’s done enough.

No one knows how much work it takes for Rhysand to wear his mask. He’s a bundle of nerves, full of an anxiety he was never allowed to feel. Rhysand takes time to breathe. Never mind the sounds of Tamlin’s rage, he will deal with it in due time. He just needs to compartmentalize until he’s sure Tamlin is okay. When he’s ready, he enters and is greeted by a dresser narrowly missing his head.

“Hello to you, too, Little Prince.” The smile he wears is easy. Comfortable. Like nothing happened, like he would let Tamlin walk out the door without a single word exchanged. (He would, but not without being sure he’s alright.) That same smile is wiped off his face in an instant. Along with it, his breath is stolen from him, and all thoughts are replaced with splintering pain shooting up his spine as he’s slammed against the wall.

“You’re mocking me.” Tamlin’s words are low and vicious. His strong fingers clench around Rhysand’s pale throat. Nostrils flare as if scenting the danger he presents. 

Rhysand stares into those green eyes, and what he finds there, beneath the storming rage, is… pain. Tamlin was betrayed by a brother he loved and made a fool by his peers. Rhysand places his hand gently atop Tamlin's, exerting no force and only trying to free himself enough to talk. “I would never,” he wheezes.

It takes a monumental effort to fight the instinct to fight back; Rhysand is a warrior, first and foremost. His mind flits towards the different methods of escape with varying ranges of violence. While he understands, his body is taut with loathing for being forced into this position.

“Then why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?” Rhysand keeps trying to wriggle free of the hold on his neck. Every instinct in him demands that he fight back, but there’s a bigger play at hand. He wants to show Tamlin that he can be trusted—that he’s not here to fight. When he stops fussing, it finally clicks. Lordling. Little Prince. Little Cub. Those were the type of names that the others called him. They were diminutive, making him seem smaller than the great High Faerie he has grown to be in the last decade. 

“I-I didn’t know.” Rhysand finally says. “That they called you that, or how they treat you.” He drops his hands to his side in surrender. Tamlin releases him just as soon, willing to hear him out. “I won’t call you that anymore.” He rubs his throat, knowing there will be a bruise there in the morning. “Anything you do want me to call you?”

He’s suddenly aware of the space between them. (He’s always aware of Tamlin, especially when he pulls away and shuts the world out.) Violet gaze follows the large frame of the Spring faerie.

“I have a name.”

“Well, I want to be special.”

Rhysand manages, by the Mother’s grace, to somehow make Tamlin laugh. The sound is tense and bitter, an antithesis of the wild freedom he’d grown accustomed to in the past week. 

“I don’t,” comes Tamlin’s whisper. 

This time, when Tamlin pulls away, Rhysand closes the distance. It’s a silent promise he made himself when he decided he wanted to know him; he wants to make sure that Tamlin knows he isn’t alone. If he is, then it’s by his own choice, not Rhysand’s. He rests his slender hands on those broad shoulders that have carried far too much at such a young age. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

A snort. “And how do you see me?”

“You’re a wildflower in a marble jungle. When the rest of us are stuck up and whining about our luxurious yet fulfilling lives, you do what you want. Specifically, licking walls and asking the good questions.”

The laugh that follows is bitter, now. “Never in my life have I been free.”

“Yet, you still hope for it.”

To that, Tamlin has nothing to say. He lifts his head, shifting his gaze away from a distant point out the window to look at Rhysand—to really look at him. (And Rhysand is happy to find that the pain has dulled in those emerald eyes, replaced with something much brighter.) “That’s what you can call me, if you want.”

“What’s that?”

“Wildflower.”

Rhysand grins. He feels happy down to his very toes, like the first warm sun after winter. (Like basking in spring .) Yet, no tender moment goes unpunished in Prythian. Tamlin turns to the side and violently vomits the content of his belly, most of it wine, faebane and dinner. Rhysand pulls his friend’s blonde hair into his hands and rubs his back soothingly. There, there.

(In the back of his mind, Rhysand makes a note of all the ways he will punish the Autumn sons and Enfys for their cruelty. All in due time.)

“One last thing, wildflower. Put your hands on me again and we’re going to have a problem,” Rhysand grins and he means every word. His friendship is not without accountability.

Before the sun creeps into the sky, Rhysand heads to the market to fetch fresh bread for Tamlin. By the time he returns, his friend is gone. 

The negotiations have fallen apart.

[ratherembarrassing]

2024: weeks 1 and 2

week one was the summer holidays, and last week was barely back at work, leave me alone. honestly, i feel like i did nothing for two weeks straight, which is a gorgeous feeling.

read: wheel of time (1990). as i said at like 1am when i finished it, i had a great time! so i guess i will be reading these now. i spent two weeks basically lying around reading this and not much else, and i think it took about 3 weeks all up, which is indicating something terrible about how long it's going to take me to get through the entire series.

watch: poor things (2023). i'm still slightly frothing at the mouth over this one. i love it when people just make the weird thing! let's do more of that!

watch: mean girls (2024). i... did not enjoy this. i saw the musical on broadway during renee rapp's run and my recollection was that i enjoyed the heck out of it, but the intervening five years really has pushed this storyline way too far into aged poorly territory. tina fey has obviously grown enough to let janice finally be a lesbian, but her regular list of Issues were still on display and as deeply uncomfortable to watch as ever.

sportsball: tennis is back, baby! the aus open started yesterday, kicking off a day early in an attempt to deal with their schedule stress thanks to constant late night finishes, and... they finished close to 1am. off to a great start! i am tired.

the beach: last week, on the ONE day of nice warm weather we've had in weeks, i attempted to skive off work and go to the beach, drove 40 minutes to the closest beach without a contamination warning, discovered the water was orange, and promptly drove 40 minutes home again. i went for a swim in my pool, which is all of like 50 steps away. the lesson is doing things is for chumps and you should just stay home.

here is the sky:

[icemankazansky]

Hi! So I have been stalking your blog lately (sorry for spamming of likes 🫣) because I have once again fallen into this rabbit hole that is Icemav and I'm loving your posts on them and the gifset you made for Iceman.

My question is, and I'm sorry if you have already answered something like this before: what are your fav Iceman HCs?

Hello! First of all, never apology for spamming me with likes and reblogs, because I love that shit. That is why the content is here.

I love this question! Let's see.

Ice is Russian and Jewish

This one came to me* pretty simply, because I got there by looking up the roots of Kazansky as a surname, mostly for a throwaway line in Lightning Strikes Twice. (If you're wondering why it takes me so long to finish a story, that is the reason. I spent two and a half hours writing yesterday, and a solid hour of it was research.) I've done a little bit with it, but @boasamishipper has really been the champion of this headcanon, and she's done a lot of work developing it.

It's difficult for me to believe that, given the political landscape when Top Gun OG was made and the way we're meant to see Ice initially, that giving him a Russian last name was not a purposeful decision. The year before, Rocky IV was a major success, breaking box office records worldwide. Rocky's opponent in the film is Russian Ivan Drago:

Does this look familiar to anybody?

Russia and Russians were bad guys a lot during this time period. The Cold War, which had started after World War II, was still going on. Maverick is our protagonist, and he embodies traits that have been considered uniquely American since the 18th century: Being the best, being a rebel who does things his own way no matter what The Establishment says, pulling one's self up by the bootstraps to become extraordinary, etc. And initially, Ice is positioned as Maverick's foil. He is self-disciplined, self-contained, and believes in collectivism and responsibility to the group over everything. To anyone bothered by the Red Scare, that could definitely be read as communist. I think that giving Ice a Russian last name and these qualities isn't to paint him as the bad guy, but rather to get the audience to feel unsure about him. Maverick asks, "What's your problem, Kazansky?" and the audience is meant to think, "Yeah, what is his problem?"

(I've gone a little off track, but I don't expect everyone who follows this blog to have a critical understanding of the political climate in America in the 1980s.) But what does this mean for Ice as a person? It means that he grew up in America during the Cold War as someone with a Russian last name, at the very least. It's conspicuous. He definitely got called a Commie at school. And if (as I like to believe) he is close to his heritage, especially if it's recent (like he's a third generation American rather than a twelfth), it creates an interesting ambivalence. Like, my last name is German, but it's so far removed from me that it doesn't mean anything to me as a person. It's not part of my culture or identity. I don't consider myself German. I don't have that ambivalence. If Ice considers himself Russian, if that's part of his life and identity, that is difficult during the time period in which he grew up, and it's going to change things about his character. People are going to talk shit about Russians, and there are people who are going to question his allegiances, and he's going to have to balance that while being proud of his identity and his culture. I like the world it creates for him. I like him mentally cursing in Russian whenever Maverick is especially Maverick-y. I like him being offered a beer and wrinkling his nose at that American piss water (@victimofthemusic I love you forever for writing that).

Okay, I've talked way too much about Russian Iceman without getting into Jewish Iceman, so I'm just going to say: Yes. Also. It just makes sense to me, and I love all the headcanons and work @boasamishipper especially has created (I would protect Rachel Kazansky with my life), and I want more of it. All of it. Gimme.

*I don't mean to imply that I originated the headcanon; I'm just saying that is how I, personally, first started thinking about it.

Ice Has (a) Sister(s)

I've seen only children ask questions about this, but yes, there are totally vibes that speak to whether you have siblings, what genders they are, what the birth order is, etc. Ice is way too patient, good at sharing, and willing to play a supporting role to be an only child. He also screams sisters to me because he is capable of emotional regulation, sensitive to other people's emotions (I want you to think of him watching Maverick storm off the tarmac after the hop with Sundown), and values the collective over the individual. In general, when boys have brothers, they spend at least the first 20 years of their lives in constant competition. Everything is a challenge. Everything is a target. Ice is certainly driven, and he likes to win, but the amount of emphasis he puts on working as a team and helping each other suggests that his own desire to succeed is not the most important thing to him. Brothers also do not talk to each other. Sisters value open communication and group cohesion. (They've done studies on this. I'm not just making this up.)

And I like the thought that he has support. Ice has kind of a hard road to walk, and the thought that he has (a) supportive sister(s) there to talk to and to help him and to make sure he doesn't get away with any shit is lovely.

Ice is Smart AF

This is not a huge leap from canon, because we already know he's the best of the best and that he got into a competitive university, and that you have to be able to understand a lot of math and science and do it in your head at Mach 2 to be a fighter pilot. But Ice strikes me as the smartest guy in the room. The scene I keep coming back to is the one in the TAC trailer. Here's Ice:

He's not really paying attention. And I don't think it's because he's apathetic. It looks to me (because this was me) that he's bored because he's already figured out the problem, he already understands what's being taught, and he just has to sit there until everyone else catches up. And he's relaxed about it; he's used to it. He's probably been in this situation hundreds of times before. I talk about this more in this post, but that's the gist.

Ice is an August Leo with Capricorn Rising

I know a lot of people use Val Kilmer's birthday for Ice, and that is fine. You're totally valid. I just cannot. He's too fiery and bold, too sunny and fiercely loyal (that lion has teeth, and they use them to protect the people they love the most) once that Iceman mask slips down. I can have my little zodiac headcanons, as a treat.

I think I've gone on long enough. Thank you for the question! I'm sorry it took me so long to answer it. I'm trying, ragazzi.

[vulturevanity]

I got so excited to finally talk to Iris again I completely forgot to make a post for yesterday so I'll have to make today's about POKEMON WHITE DAYS 7 AND 8. This gets long, fellas, get comfy.

We'd left off at the Desert Resort as I was about to go find the Dark Stone. Cher did chase after me there to yell that there was no way she'd let me go there alone, so we went in together. As expected, there were a lot of team Plasma grunts in the Relic Castle, but they were simple enough to beat. I thankfully didn't run into any ghosts this time, but Ghetsis was there rambling to Alder about how the Dark Stone wasn't there and how humans are bad or something, idk, I was too distracted thinking about who would have the Dark Stone. Cher suggested we check the Nacrene History Museum, since Relic Castle is an archeological diging site and everything found here ends up there. Ghetsis left, Cher said she'd take another look around just in case he was lying, and Alder and I made our way to Nacrene City.

And it turns out they did have the Dark Stone there! Cher is a genius. Both professors Juniper were there with Lenora, and Bianca with them, but no one knows how the stone works, so it's up to me to figure it out. Every adult around me was understandably upset that Unova's fate is at the hands of a teenager, but you know how it is with these journeys. Bianca looked like she was trying really hard to not show how scared she was, but I could tell. To be honest, this is all pretty scary. Alder eventually suggested I go to Opelucid City and talk to the dragon experts, and I agreed before he even finished talking because I'd been meaning to meet those two since we started the journey, before this whole mess. I'm just a huge fan of dragon pokemon, okay?! Besides, N told me to do the League to prove I'm on his level, so I needed the eighth badge anyway. Bianca said she wanted to at least accompany me there because she felt awful just sitting around waiting to hear news of me.

We flew to Icirrus and crossed the moors, Prince leading us across the water so we wouldn't fall into the deeper ponds. It was pouring, as it always is in the area, so we shared an umbrella and talked about our plans for the future. You know, after this mess is all over. I told her I've always wanted to visit Kalos and learn about their pokemon classification system: apparently they've been considering an entirely new pokemon type, and that sounds fascinating to me. She told me she'd been thinking about becoming a pokemon professor, so that sounds right up her alley. She said maybe we could go together one day -- all three of us, Cher as well. She'd surely be interested too, we agreed.

But even our talk didn't calm Bianca's nerves about me going all anime protagonist on N, so at Tubeline Bridge I challenged her to a pokemon battle, just to show her how far we'd both come. Despite her always saying otherwise, she's a really tough trainer! She knocked out two of my team and I had to switch around and heal before I eventually won. It took the edge off her shoulders, and after we dried off in the gate we spent the evening at the Shopping Mall Nine (it was too late in the day for me to challenge the eighth gym anyway, we decided to enjoy ourselves before we headed to an inn in Opelucid for the night). We tried to call Cher, but her crosstransciever wasn't taking calls (I guessed she was still scouring Relic Castle, there's no signal down there). Bianca said she'd check in on her the next day and we eventually made it to Opelucid to settle for the night.

I woke up the next day with a mild headache, took a tylenol and went straight to the gym to talk to the dragon experts about the Dark Stone. Meeting Iris again was wonderful, she's a delightful presence and Jasper loved her neck scritches (to Yuri's mild annoyance).

Drayden said the Legendary Pokemon will respond to one whose convictions are strong enough to change the world, which... had me concerned. I really don't want to be a part of this, I really don't want to have to fight someone who cares as much about pokemon as I do just because he's been fed some nonsense about trainers being bad. I'd love to be able to talk him out of this absurd plan of holding Unova hostage and forcing everyone to abandon their pokemon. I don't know if I have what it takes to awaken the Legendary Dragon. Iris then asked if I cared about my friends. I said yes, of course. She asked if I would do anything to keep them from having to live in a world where people and pokemon are apart. I said yes, but hesitated. She asked me to prove it in a battle against her, for the eighth gym badge. I smiled. I could do that.

And do that I did. Yuri wanted to go first for some reason (it was jealousy. Yuri was jealous.), and she did a good job wearing out Fraxure despite her resisting both of her attacks, but she was one level below and fainted first. Then Orion went out. He outsped and flinched the Fraxure, prompting Iris to use one of her max potions. Druddigon came next, and Orion managed to set up a Swords Dance without being Dragon Tail'd out of the arena, which I'm sure was the reason he was ready to sweep without fear. Druddigon was a little sturdy but she used Night Slash for some reason and got knocked out fast. Haxorus looked really scary, but a single crit +2 STAB Earthquake + soft sand oneshot her so hard I felt bad for her. Iris smiled. She said that if I still had doubts about whether I have what it takes, there was my answer. I got the eighth badge.

Leaving for route 10, Bianca and Cher caught up to me before I left for the Victory Road. Cher was really serious and challenged me to one last battle, saying she wanted to confirm something. Bianca was giggling to herself for some reason. We fought and, predictably, I won. She sighed in relief, and I asked what this was all about. Cher said she just had to make sure I'd win against N, because I had to be ready to save the world if we were going to travel to Kalos together in the future. She was so serious while saying that, Bianca and I couldn't help but laugh, which annoyed and flustered her, and she stomped out saying we were the worst. Bianca said she had to go with her because they had plans for the afternoon, but she gave me some revives for the last leg of my journey.

Gosh, I love those doofuses.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Being Comfortable

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

I haven't seen Emmett in over a week and that's 95% my fault. I hate it which is worrying me on a different level but I also haven't had too much time to think about it. My father showed up at the factory on Friday morning for a walk through. My mother had flown out as well so I spent all weekend showing them Baltimore, the little of it I knew anyway. I of course came down with the spring cold from hell and spent Tuesday in bed and Wednesday working from my couch.

Emmett offered to come over and bring me soup but he was working all day and I was in no shape for company of any sort. That's what delivery is for. Yesterday I managed to get to work I make it through the day but I was in bed by 7:30. We've texted and had two evening phone calls so he knows I'm not ignoring him but it's just not the same... I miss him. I haven't really had anyone to miss in a long time or what feels like a long time. I don't know where this is going, him and me. For one, I should be heading back to Michigan in a month or so. Two, letting someone into my head, letting them know my secrets, well that's scary. I've never done it before and I don't know how it's going to play out.

Part of me wants to spin around and sing at top my lungs like I'm in the sound of music, like my apartment is the Austrian countryside. And yes, I want to do it in funny boxers. But then reality sets in and I know I'm weird and honestly, I don't want to date anyone who thinks I'm not. It makes me worry about what else they wouldn't have a problem with, know what I mean? But the possibility is enough to make me forget all of that and when he was here last week and I got to nap curled up against him wearing yes, my batman briefs, I was a happy, happy boy. We'd had a delicious dinner and I'd gotten a few very thorough kisses before he left.

It was a good day... a great day and I miss him and that. That feeling of being comfortable, really comfortable, with someone. I like the people at work but I have to put up a front, play the part. I love my parents and had a good time with them last weekend but no matter how much we love each other, there are some things that would just be going too far. There are rules and expectations and I'm really glad there are. How weird would it be for my mom to flash someone or my dad to tap my beer bottle? It's late by the time I get home and my apartment is very, very empty. I have a hard couch, a mostly empty fridge and nothing to do. I don't have much energy either but suddenly my apartment feels like a jail cell... I call Emmett.

"Hey, darling," he answers.

I smile because I do every time he calls me that.

"Hey. I just got home and I'm bored."

"You should come over here and play with my ferret."

'It will never not be funny.'

"I could order pizza."

That does it... that's a win.

"From that place?"

I don't even remember what it was called.

"Only place I order from, Finnegan."

"I'll pay, get me one and I'll be right there."

He chuckles.

"You're excited and I can tell by your voice that you can breathe a bit better, that's good. Taste buds must be back too. Hey, I'm not working in the morning so if you want to stay, bring a few things."

Stay tonight? Sounds good even though I'll probably be in bed by nine which is only two hours from now or stay the weekend? He said a few... if I show up at the ceiling and tonight he's going to get freaked out. I will pack lightly and leave some stuff in my car just in case.

"Sleeping with you sounds really good, Emmett. See you soon."

"Drive safe, Finnegan."

Half an hour later I'm on his comfortable couch wearing boxers and a Mr. bubbles T-shirt that Emmett pulled from the depths of his closet. I have two huge slices of pizza in front of me and he's yelling from the kitchen

"Want a beer?"

Too soon.

"No. Water is fine."

He brings me a sports bottle with a bendy straw. It has initials on it I can't place and I'm guessing is some automotive part distributor or such. I'd expected a glass but...

"Holds more," he says by way of explanation.

Not that I'm complaining... not really... it's fun. I pull the straw most of the way out since it's pretty full and that gives me plenty to play with. We get settled and snuggled up under a blanket. 

"Comfy, Finnegan?"

He has no idea just how comfortable I am. 

"I'm good Emmett, thanks." 

I fall asleep halfway through the Lego 2 movie.

[eclipnet]

AVOT Update #6

(edit: as of now, i unfortunately don't have time to make AVOT, nor the skills to make it yet, and the project i originally needed it for is no longer required, so unfortunately i won't be making AVOT as of now, but i still wanted to keep the posts up)

happy holidays !! & a late merry christmas for those who celebrate !! :)

i have a long update today >:))

for christmas I got a drawing tablet, so i moved from working on AVOT on my ipad to now my pc !! which means avot is now going to be animated in adobe animation (which is a huge upgrade from the app i was previously using to animate)

heres a little test animation with my oc that i made with it yesterday, and it is alot smoother than my previous animations on my ipad :)

alsooo i have 2 scenes storyboarded for avot and a general idea of the actual storyline & video, so all i have to do now is storyboard & animate as of now !! :D

i did rewrite some of it, especially the beginning with the icon being introduced as i felt like the story moved too slow, plus i think my new idea is alot more entertaining :) (but i wont spoil it yet !!)

(unfortunately though that does mean the 9 second animation i made for the beginning already that i posted will be scrapped, but i can make it better! :) )

speaking of the beginning of AVOT, i do want to make a trailer/teaser video if possible, (mostly just for fun but also because ive spent so long on this so far!!), originally i planned to have it done by december, but i just now reached the beginning of the animation stage as i took a break from working on it due to exams, but as of now i plan to maybe have one done beginning/mid january if i can !! :)

ill probably post more updates more frequently as i have no more highschool classes anymore so i have alot more free time compared to balancing schoolwork with this project !! :)

also sidenote but i organized my blog more !! i redid my pinned post & remade the AVOT explanation post, & i also plan on posting more than just avot stuff here as well :)

[safereturndoubtful]

Day 25 - and again at Rio Arado..

It didn’t take me long to decide to stay put for another day. It was another pleasantly warm and dry day, though the sun was restricted to the morning. Rain is coming, but late this afternoon, and tomorrow I believe.

Roja’s looking a bit tired after yesterday which had a lot of big rock steps both up and down. My planning always was for some long days with him, some shorter days with him with me out on the bike in the afternoon. Today was such a day.

It began with a river crossing. The dog’s favourite, but not one of my strengths, despite all the training over the years, not least the New Ing lunch breaks with Scott and Eeva. It took a while, but I managed it, and without a soaking.

Then we ascended the group of rocks that form a viewpoint that dominate this immediate area. It has steps cut into it, and ascends about 90 metres, to 777 metres. The last sections, around a cliff edge, are on metal steps - not the dog’s favourite by any means. I’ve said before that he doesn’t trust anything to walk on that’s man made, and he needed to summon all of his courage to get to the top.

With eagle eyes the van can be spotted..

The city of Braga is relatively close, less than an hour by car, and Porto another hour, so the weather has brought out a few Portuguese day trippers. They are easy to identify; cell phone in one hand, plastic bottle of water in the other, and the huge jacket they started out with in 20C flung over the shoulder.

In the years of consultancy work I did after teaching I worked with the delivery of a Sport England study on users of the outdoors. The study put users into 7 categories, the smallest of which in terms of money spent in the locality was genuine sportsperson, the hiker, biker, climber, kayaker, etc. The largest of which was the brigade I had always grown up taking the piss out of, those who hung around the likes of Betwys in very piece of gear imaginable, venturing no further than the coffee, souvenir and outdoor shops.

The survey’s purpose was to provide information for working towards National Parks being for everyone.

These Portuguese I refer to, are likely not to have had the fortune to experience and learn about the outdoors in their youth. It seems inconvenient and unnecessary to carry a rucksack, proper footwear and clothing. It explains the trepidation of many to venture out even, or the opposite, to wander too far into the mountains and put themselves in danger.

This area is extremely popular once the weather settles, but right now, there are so few people around that it is interesting to chat. I also met a group of four young Hungarian lads over in Porto for a week’s vacation, and on a day out.

After lunch I headed out on the bike. I’ve been somewhat tentative so far, just doing half hours, but went for it today with a decent off-road circuit. The downhill, which was at the start, was rather steeper and washed out than I expected; thrilling it may have been, though it was more technical than I would have opted for, given a choice..

This has been a tremendous and memorable stopover place. Obviously it would be different in the season, but right now, it offers 360 mountain views, the odd goat or horse visiting, and peace other than the trickling streams.

and the ‘goat-dogs’..

There has been the odd person, the German couple the first night, the Polish the second, but most, like them, come and go when they find no cell phone signal.

[zukkaoru]

♔: Finding the other wearing their clothes - inuokko if you're feeling up to it :)

hello!! here is some inuokko for you <3 no shibuya incident au bc i love living in denial, post-yuuta coming back from africa, & established inuokko

word count: 800

--

Yuuta is still half asleep when he walks into the kitchen. He got back late last night from a mission, and now he’s up far earlier than he would like because Maki says late returns are no reason to skip out on training. Yuuta would love to argue with her on that, but he’s too tired to fight.

If he falls asleep on the field, he’s blaming Maki.

“Kelp,” Toge greets as Yuuta walks past, and Yuuta waves vaguely in his direction. “Mustard leaf?”

“‘m tired,” he mumbles.

“Salmon cod roe,” Toge responds, which Yuuta interprets to mean Go back to sleep, then. 

“Can’t. Maki said I can’t skip out this morning.”

Yuuta imagines Toge rolls his eyes, but he’s too busy fumbling with the coffee machine to look and see. Toge doesn’t respond verbally, but a few moments later, he’s standing next to Yuuta. He taps Yuuta’s shoulder, then points back at the table. That is a very clear Sit down and let me do this for you.

“I’m fine—”

“Yuuta.” He points again, movements harsher this time. Yuuta sighs. Another argument he is too tired to win. He trudges over to the table and sits down, resting his head in his arms.

He must doze off again, because it doesn’t feel like very long before Toge is tapping him on the shoulder and saying his name. Yuuta lifts his head to see Toge has set a plate of food and a cup of coffee down in front of him.

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the entire world?” Yuuta asks as Toge sits down next to him.

“Salmon,” Toge says. Then, he signs, “I don’t mind you saying it again, though.”

Yuuta smiles. “Well. You are my favorite person.” He leans over and kisses the tip of Toge’s nose, making Toge scrunch his face up. “You—” Yuuta stops. He’s marginally more awake now, which means his eyes are actually working beyond giving him just enough information to make sure he doesn’t bump into anything. So he can see that the t-shirt Toge is wearing is definitely too big for him, and it’s also one that Yuuta bought for himself while he was overseas. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

Toge blinks up at him. He looks down at his shirt, like he’d forgotten what he was wearing, and then his cheeks flush pink. “It was in my closet. That’s your fault.”

“I didn’t put it in your closet.”

“You made me wash it for you.”

“I don’t think I did…”

Toge glares at him, and Yuuta keeps smiling innocently. He probably did leave it in Toge’s room at some point - probably a morning where they were rushing to get ready because they’d slept in and they’d dropped their pajamas on the floor. Toge must have just picked it up and put it in with his dirty laundry, and instead of returning it to Yuuta once it was washed, he’d kept it for himself.

Not that Yuuta minds. Toge can steal his shirts whenever he likes.

“Cod. Roe.” He points at Yuuta’s food. Just eat.

Yuuta laughs. “Okay, okay.” He takes the coffee cup into his hands, letting it warm them for a moment before he takes a sip. He smiles around the cup when he realizes Toge got the amount of milk and sugar exactly how he likes it.

The coffee warms his throat and chest as he swallows. He glances over at Toge. “You know, I think you look cute when you wear my clothes.”

Toge’s face goes red. “Bonito flakes!” he practically shouts as he turns away, covering his face. “Mentaiko.”

“Bold words from the guy who spent all of yesterday’s class signing compliments at me until Gojo-sensei asked if something was wrong because my face was red.”

Toge huffs.

“Togeeee,” Yuuta moved closer, leaning against him until Toge gently nudges him off. He tries to hold a glare, but he’s twisting his lips in a way that lets Yuuta know he’s trying to force back a smile.

Yuuta sets his cup down and leans in for a kiss. Toge meets him halfway, his hands coming up to frame Yuuta’s face. The kiss is brief, but it’s followed by Toge kissing each of his cheeks, his nose, and his forehead, resulting in Yuuta’s own face flushing as Toge’s had moments earlier.

Once Toge is satisfied, he leans back. “You look cute,” he signs, which only makes Yuuta’s cheeks heat up more.

“You’re mean.”

“Salmon,” Toge responds proudly. He points at Yuuta’s food. “Eat, or it’s going to get cold.”

“Okay, okay,” Yuuta chuckles. He picks up his chopsticks. “Thank you, by the way. For making me breakfast. You really are my favorite.”

Toge smiles softly. “Salmon, Yuuta.” Of course. You’re my favorite too.

[goodnightmemes]

DEXTER SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

Lines taken from 2x07-2x12 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part one.

❛ I thrive on chaos. But this is good, too. ❜

❛ I had to do a little creative problem-solving at someone else's expense. ❜

❛ Pardon my tits. ❜

❛ Are you trying to fuck her or set her on fire? ❜

❛ Sometimes the truth speaks from a peaceful place. It's taken me a long time to find that place, but I think I have, and it's telling me you're not the right one for me. I'm so sorry. ❜

❛ Is that what I am? Clean? 'cause I don't feel that way at all. ❜

❛ No, I won't do that. I won't let you turn me into you. ❜

❛ Hope you don't expect me to comment on that so you can record it on your hidden tape recorder. I wasn't born yesterday. ❜

❛ Your past is a bigger mystery than fucking Jimmy Hoffa. ❜

❛ No matter what you try, no matter when, no matter how hard you work, I'll always be a step ahead of you for one simple reason. I own you. ❜

❛ When I'm alone and it's quiet, I get scared shitless, like I start hearing what's really going on inside. ❜

❛ 'Cause when you're around, I kind of feel like I can deal with anything, you know? ❜

❛ I've always worked best in the shadows, and that's where I have to stay. ❜

❛ You can't go back. You know that. ❜

❛ You are not allowed to talk about anyone I date as long as you're seeing little Miss "pardon my tits." ❜

❛ She is obviously a vampire. A gross english-titty vampire. ❜

❛ Can't change who I am. I'm crass and dirty, and...I have a very filthy mind. ❜

❛ Jesus Christ. They sell anyone a gun in Florida, won't they? ❜

❛ That man. He wasn't trying to rob you. He was trying to kill you. ❜

❛ Nothing you could do,___, would scare me. ❜

❛ Whatever comes, we'll get through this together. I'm not leaving your side. ❜

❛ I need to embrace who I am, who I've always been. ❜

❛ It's like I've been living underwater, holding my breath, and now I can finally breathe. ❜

❛ ___ almost had me believing it was possible to change, to become something else, as if that ever really happens. I've always known what I am. ❜

❛ I'm finding it's best to accept things you can't change, you know? ❜

❛ Is this the monster that you keep telling me about? ❜

❛ Trust me, when you meet the monster, you'll know. ❜

❛ Nice. My subconscious isn't even bothering with symbolism. ❜

❛ I feel...such regret, which is rare for me. But not that I don't mess up. I do...just never so stupendously. ❜

❛ If they're looking for proof, they won't find it. Not here at least. ❜

❛ Then maybe you should come with us, because who knows what secrets will come ❜ pouring out of me once the drinks start flowing. ❜

❛ I'm done with it and you. Did I not make that clear last night? ❜

❛ Those friends of yours, they didn't even know you. They just see the mask, but I see it all. ❜

❛ Can't live with her. Can't kill her. ❜

❛ Fuck! I'm talking about my feelings. What the fuck is your problem? ❜

❛ I've always sensed there was something... off about him. Like he's hiding in plain sight. ❜

❛ If you got in the middle of this and you got hurt… ❜

❛ The only way I can help you is if you turn yourself in. ❜

❛ Don't you disappear on me. ❜

❛ I want you to know that you meant a lot to me, more than you know, and... I just want to thank you for that. ❜

❛ If I never see her again, it'll be too soon. ❜

❛ Sleep would be nice, but there's too much to do. ❜

❛ Okay, I may be sleeping with him, but it doesn't mean he tells me shit or listens to me about anything, so stop asking! ❜

❛ That's right, motherfucker! It's over. ❜

❛ I knew there was something with you. But this shit? ❜

❛ What can I say? You were right about me. I never held it against you. I don't now. ❜

❛ It's a graze wound. Minor tissue abrasion. No hemorrhage along the bullet track. Sorry. I think I'm gonna live. ❜

❛ If you're not gonna let me go, then kill me now. Just get it over with. ❜

❛ You're a killer. I catch killers. ❜

❛ So it's okay to take a life as long as you get a paycheck for it? ❜

❛ Either kill me or set me free. ❜

❛ Taking a life is one thing, but the care and feeding of it is another. ❜

❛ I'm generally confused most of the time. ❜

❛ You ever care about anyone? Then you shouldn't have to ask. 'Cause when you care about someone, you do what you have to do. ❜

❛ I remember when life was easy, when the only question I worried about was "who's next?" Now it's: "How can I dodge my protective detail? "What should I do with my hostage?" These are not easy questions. ❜

❛ It's not about what I think. It's all about the evidence. ❜

❛ Hair-pulling may not be manly, but it's very effective. ❜

❛ If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead by now. ❜

❛ You are the only one I can count on, jackass. ❜

❛ It puts a pit in my stomach that I can only interpret as... sadness. ❜

❛ You working on an exit strategy? I'm afraid that's not gonna happen. ❜

❛ How come there's never a circus when you need one? ❜

❛ What was that shit last night? Some kind of fucking scare tactic? ❜

❛ Don't test me. I could have killed you. I didn't. ❜

❛ You're actually angry. I've never seen you angry. This is good. ❜

❛ I should warn you. You can't play on my feelings. I don't have any. ❜

❛ It's a tough job. It can wear on even the best of us. ❜

❛ I yell a lot...and bitch and complain, and I keep expecting people to guess what I want, but I never really say it. ❜

❛ And that was exciting, you know? The not knowing. What might happen, what could be. It was all possibility. ❜

❛ Your life is going to rest in the hands of the criminal justice system you put all your faith in. I wish you the best of luck. ❜

❛ You need help. Let me help you. ❜

❛ You don't have to do this! You don't have to kill this man! ❜

❛ Sorry it had to go down like this. But there really was no other way. ❜

❛ Stay away. Just stay away from me. ❜

❛ Did you happen to be stuffing a human leg into a garbage bag at that point? ❜

❛ There's that anger again. You got to let that out. ❜

❛ You're spinning. Let me help you. It's only a matter of time before you'll hurt someone else. ❜

❛ Take responsibility for who you are. ❜

❛ Why can't you just let me go? ❜

❛ If I got to choose a person... A real person... to be like, out of anyone, it'd be you. ❜

❛ Who joined who in the shower this morning? ❜

❛ For such a neat monster, I'm making an awfully big mess. ❜

❛ Maybe this is how evil works. Destroying everything it touches. ❜

❛ I've been held prisoner in a cabin for two fucking days. Fucking hellhole. ❜

❛ After everything we've been through lately, I just want... to be together with you guys. ❜

❛ You told me to take responsibility for what I am. You were right. ❜

❛ I can't live in this house of cards anymore, waiting for it all to fall down. I need to do something, you know? ❜

❛ If I do this, I need a day to get my affairs in order. ❜

❛ Mention that when they interview you for the story of my life. ❜

❛ Don't leave me in this cage, anything could happen. ❜

❛ I lie to everyone I know... except my victims right before I kill them. It's hard to establish much of a rapport there. ❜

❛ Sorry about the cage. ❜

❛ I've always been curious to try. Do you have any weed? ❜

❛ Love's a battlefield. Or in your case, a restraining order. ❜

❛ When a pretty girl smiles and bats her eyelashes, we're powerless to resist. ❜

❛ I met with a lawyer yesterday. He helped me prepare a living trust that gives you control of all my assets in the event of my death or... certain other situations. ❜

❛ God. Go away. This is creepy. ❜

❛ I'm free tonight, you wanna stop by? We'll have beer, a couple of steaks? I wanna talk to you about something. ❜

❛ I just need you to know that... you and the kids are very important to me. No matter what happens, I want you to always know that. ❜

❛ I know I've been taking things slow with us, but it's not because I don't have feelings for you. It's more like I have too many feelings, and I just wanna make sure to get it right. ❜

❛ I want you gone. Tonight. ❜

❛ I've spent a lifetime keeping up my guard, watching my back, wearing my mask. Relief was never in sight until now. ❜

❛ Lately, I was starting to feel like I had my head pretty far up my ass. ❜

❛ You decide who you are, who you want to be...and you hold onto that and ride it out. ❜

❛ I need some help! Just open the door! I'm being held captive. ❜

❛ Damn, it's good to see another face. I never thought I would. ❜

❛ When something beyond reason happens, it turns skeptics into believers. ❜

❛ If you believe that God makes miracles, you have to wonder if Satan has a few up his sleeve. ❜

❛ I can't exactly feel their pain, but I can appreciate it. ❜

❛ I kinda forgot who I was. I got it straight now. ❜

❛ The term is homicidal maniac. Not that I'm judging. ❜

❛ A public place. You thought I was gonna...That I would slip my needle into your neck? ❜

❛ You're afraid of me now, aren't you? ❜

❛ You're emotionally color-blind. You use the right words, you pantomime the right behavior, but feelings never come to pass. ❜

❛ You know the dictionary definition of emotions: longing, joy, sorrow...You have no idea of what any of those things actually feel like. ❜

❛ I created a monster of my own. ❜

❛ What did you do to make her so pathetically crazy for you? Does your dick dance? ❜

❛ What're we doing home in the middle of the day? She asked, hoping for sex. ❜

❛ Why? Why do I have to make up my mind? ❜

❛ I've never put much weight onto the idea of a higher power. But if I didn't know better, I'd have to believe that some force out there wants me to keep doing what I'm doing. ❜

❛ As it turns out, nobody mourns the wicked. ❜

❛ Am I evil? Am I good? I'm done asking those questions. I don't have the answers. ❜

[arrantsnowdrop]

To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien​

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match. 

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.

[etoileholland]

Yours truly

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: a letter box shaped bag prompts Tom to tell you just how much you mean to him

Warnings: none; it’s just my usual fluff :)

A/N: surprise, I’m back! It’s been a very long time since I’ve written something, and although the break was nice, I missed you all :( and since I don’t really know who to tag, I’m going to tag my old taglist + mutuals, but if you want to be added to my taglist please let me know!

While you and Tom were out spending the day going window shopping, you passed by the front window of a Kate Spade boutique, and a blur of red made you turn your head to see what was in the window. What you saw was so beautiful, it made you stop suddenly in your tracks.

Tom, who was holding your hand, was not expecting you to stop so suddenly. “Babe, you’re going to pull my arm out of its socket.” He joked, and was expecting you to reply, but instead you were silent. When he turned to see what you were looking at, your hand was pressed to the glass of the display, eyes wide and lips agape. A smile erupted on his lips as he watched how mesmerized you were by a handbag, and how awestruck you were by it.

It was as if you were a kid in a candy store, or maybe it was more like love at first sight. In fact, the way you were looking at the bag is the same way that he looks at you—full of love and adoration.

He knew he had to surprise you with it.

As he stood there with you, your gaze still fixed to the bag, he waited a minute longer until he decided to speak up. “It is a beautiful bag, huh?” At first you didn’t respond, nor did you show any sign of even hearing what he had said. “C’mon,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze and pulling you towards the entrance. “Let’s go take a look at it.”

That sentence snapped you out of your trance, and without skipping a beat, you stopped walking and stood in place. “Oh no, no, no, let’s not do that.” Your voice got a little louder with every no. “I don’t want to be disappointed by how expensive it is. It must cost at least £200 pounds.”

“I doubt-”

“It’s a Kate Spade,” you interrupted, “her bags are ridiculously expensive.” As you spoke, you continuously shook your head no. “I know it’s far too expensive, and I don’t want to be disappointed when I see the exorbitant price tag.” Your eyes became fixed to the pavement, and your eyebrows furrowed downwards, as well as your lips turning into a small frown. “Can we please leave?”

It pained Tom to see you so sad, especially since he could easily buy you the bag—hell, he could buy you a hundred of them, or even purchase everything in the store for you. It was no problem to him, but he knew that him buying you things made you feel uncomfortable, so he decided not to press the issue any further.

“Okay love, let’s go.” He took a step forward, but instead of following him, you stood there still, staring at the bag. A few seconds passed before you slowly took a step forward, and then walked with Tom away from the window display.

“Maybe one day I’ll see it in a consignment shop, and then I’ll be able to afford it.” You uttered under your breath, but it was just loud enough for Tom to hear it.

A week had passed, and Tom didn’t once stop thinking about the bag, and how much you pined over it. Just the night before, he had a dream where he was in his Spider-Man costume, and had broken into the store to get it for you. Of course, he wasn’t going to do that, but it was all he could think about, even in his dreams.

He knew he had to get it for you, because even though you tried to say you were okay without it, he knew it would make you beyond happy if you had it. Yet, he was aware that he couldn’t get it when you were with him, which seemed to be most of the time. He cherished spending time with you, but he just needed some time alone so he could get it.

While he was thinking of a plan, the opportunity arose on its own, no planning on his end needed.

“Your mum wants me to go shopping with her tomorrow to buy a gift for Paddy.” You announced as you walked into the room, and leaned against the door frame.

“Wait, she wants you to go with her, and not me?” He asked, hoping to feign some sadness, even though he was secretly relieved. He loved his mum, but shopping with her could easily become extremely stressful.

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, “I thought the same thing, but apparently she wants me to go with her. She said something about me being a ‘more attentive shopper’.” You said with air quotes, and a slight frown on your face.

Tom, who was sprawled out in his bed, positioned himself so that he could tilt his head up to see you. “Well, that’s odd. I can see she’s playing favourites.” He remarked, trying to not sound too relieved.

“That’s okay with you, right?” You questioned, eyes wide.

“Of course love, just don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I won’t, but let me just text her back and tell her that’s okay.” You bounded out of the room quickly, and when you left, he let out a small squeal. His plan was falling into place, and it seemed that the universe was on his side. He took a minute to think about his schedule tomorrow, and luckily he had the day off.

He was bound and determined to get the bag for you.

—

Almost immediately after you left the house to go shopping with his mum, Tom bolted out of the house and ran out to his car, quickly and messily trying to unlock the car door. When he situated himself inside the car, he pulled out of the driveway to head towards the Kate Spade boutique.

The way he was driving was downright terrible, and borderline reckless, but all he could think about was getting the bag for you. On his drive there, the thought of accidentally running into you crossed his mind, but he shook the thought away.

About twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking garage, stopped the car, got out and locked it. He hurried up towards the entrance of the store, and rushed inside, tunnel vision consuming him. As he looked around frantically looking for the bag, he couldn’t seem to see it, but before he could have a chance to inquire about it, a store clerk came up to him.

“May I help you with something?” The assistant inquired, snapping Tom out of his tunnel vision.

“Actually, yes. My girlfriend saw a small purse in the window display last week, and I was wondering if you still happen to have it.”

“By any chance, did it look like a little post box with a letter inside?” She asked with a slightly sad grin, one that caught Tom’s attention.

“Um yes, precisely. Do you still have any?”

Judging by the assistant’s look, he already knew the answer—he was too late. “I’m so sorry, but there was only one left, and that kind woman at the register is about to purchase the last one.” She stated with sad eyes, and it took everything in Tom to not be equally as upset. “They sold so quickly that we had to request a few more shipments, but there were no more left to order yesterday.”

He looked over to see who the woman who was purchasing the last handbag was, and the woman looked back at him with apologetic eyes. It was a woman about the age of 80, and was a very spiffy dresser at that.

“Love, I am so sorry that I’m buying the last one, but I too have had my eye on it for quite a while.” She spoke just loud enough for Tom to hear her from the other side of the boutique, but just quiet enough for him to walk over closer to where she stood at the register. “Do you mind me asking why you wanted this bag? By the way you ran in here, it seemed like it was clearly an important thing to buy.”

“It was.” Tom answered back as he took a second to think about what he wanted to say. He felt so dejected that there weren’t any words to describe his situation, even though it was a very easy situation to understand. “Last week, I was window shopping with my girlfriend, and she saw this bag and immediately stopped in her tracks. She spent 10 minutes staring at it, or at least it felt that long.” He walked over closer to where the register was and leaned one arm against the counter. “She was so awe struck by it, but at the time she couldn’t afford it, and she refused to allow me to buy it.”

“That’s the mark of a remarkable young woman, you know. Most women would expect her man to buy her what she wanted, but the fact that she didn’t want to buy it really says a lot.” She carefully placed her hand on top of Tom’s in a reassuring way. “Cherish her forever.”

Tom’s vision became a bit blurry as he blinked away tears that were trying to form in his eyes. “I will, I promise.” He lightly sighed, allowing himself to take a second to think. “Although it’s a pretty new relationship, so I hope it works out.” His watery eyes cleared up, and he took one more audible breath. Just then, the kind woman gently placed her hand on top of his, and gave it a gentle pat. When he looked up at her, she was giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Trust me, love. I’ve been around long enough to know if a relationship will work out or not. I thought the same when I met my now husband when he and I were both 17. I was so worried thinking that it may not work out, but he had the faith to know that it would. And he was right, he usually always is, but I try not to tell him too much so that it doesn’t go to his head.” She laughed lightly, and Tom did as well. “All it takes is love, patience and perseverance. That’s the key to a lasting relationship.”

The assistant was moved by the woman’s touching story, and wiped away a tear off her cheek. The woman looked at her and smiled tearfully too. “How new is your relationship?” She asked.

“It’s felt like ages, but in a good way.” Tom answered with a smile forming on his lips. “But in all actuality, it’s been almost three months, but we met a month prior to dating.”

“So that is pretty new.” The kind old woman answered. “What do you love most about her?”

Love, Tom thought. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t think about all the things he loves about you, but to be honest, he hasn’t told you he loved you yet. He hasn’t wanted to rush anything, even though he’s sure he loves you. The idea of telling you that has scared him, because it always seems that when he tells someone he loves them, they disappear from his life forever, just like his previous relationships before. “Well, she’s so patient with me, and beyond understanding of my hectic life.”

“Go on,” the kind woman prodded, already knowing that he hadn’t told you he loved you yet, but wanting to help coax the feelings out of him.

“I have a stressful job, to put it lightly, and not once has she made me feel bad about having to reschedule a date. She’s also ridiculously intelligent, caring, and beautiful, and I wouldn’t know what to do without her, nor would I want to think about that.”

“Well, I can tell that you love her,” she answered, “and I hope I’m not prodding too much, but may I ask why you haven’t told her yet?”

Tom took a second to compose himself. “I’ve wanted to, but I didn’t want to rush anything. I don’t know if this is going to sound dumb, but I wanted to write her a letter telling her how I feel, and I was going to stick the letter into the letter box, which is super dumb I know but-”

“That’s not.” The woman choked out, dabbing at her eyes where they were starting to well up with tears. “That’s one of the sweetest things I have ever heard, and I am beyond happy to know that the younger generations are still just as sweet and chivalrous as the past ones were. At the time when I was dating my husband, he also wrote me a letter telling me he loved me as he went to fight in the war.” She took out a handkerchief from her coat pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I would ever see him again, but luckily he came home safely.”

“I’m happy he did.” Tom responded with tears in his eyes as well. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“You’re welcome.” She wiped her eyes once more, and motioned for the assistant, who was in the back of the store, to come over to where she and Tom were standing. “Letters are a great way to tell someone something, and I’m glad they haven’t died off with the younger generation.” The assistant came over to the woman, and looked to see what she may need.

“Can I please return this bag back to the store so that this young man can buy it instead?” The assistant hesitantly reached her arm out to take the bag, wanting to make sure that the woman really wanted to do so.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take it from you.” Tom responded hesitantly, his voice upturning at the end of the sentence.

The woman waved her hand in front of Tom. “I’m positively sure. This will be the item that will make you cherish your relationship forever, and will even be your lucky charm.”

As the assistant returned the bag back to the store, Tom quickly reached out his arms and gave the woman a quick hug. “Thank you so much, I can’t thank you enough.” When he pulled away, she placed her hand on his forearm.

“You’re very welcome, and I wish you two a long and beautiful relationship.”

“Thank you again.” He responded quickly, and then a wave of realisation washed over him. “I just realised that I didn’t get your name, how awful of me.”

“Beth.” She answered, “and I already know your name, Mr. Tom Holland.” A look of confusion washed over Tom’s face, and before he could ask how she knew his name, she answered, “My granddaughter is a huge fan. I’ve seen all the Spider-Man movies with her in the cinema, and I must admit that you are a wonderful actor.”

Tom grinned his million dollar smile, and began to blush. “Why thank you Beth, I truly appreciate everything.”

The assistant rung up the bag for Tom, and after he paid for it, she wrapped it up nicely and put it in a colourful bag.

“Good luck with everything Mr. Holland, and when you and this girl get married, you better invite me to your wedding.” She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. “I mean it, you know. I better be there for the wedding.” As she said this, she wrote her name, address and phone number on it. “Promise me I’ll be the first person you call after you pop the question to her?” She slid the paper over to Tom and watched as he read it once before folding it nicely and placing it carefully in his wallet. “I promise I will Beth, I swear on it.”

—

Tom knew what he had to do, or rather, what to say. After his conversation with Beth in the boutique, it seemed as though the words were spilling out of his mouth, and the letter was practically writing itself in his mind. All he had to do now was actually buy something to write on.

He thought about buying some cute stationary to match the aesthetic of the bag, but he knew that the words were so loud in his head, that by the time that it would take for him to buy stationary, the words would be gone.

Jogging back out to his car, he began to rummage through the glove compartment in hopes of finding something, anything to write on.

The only acceptable piece of paper was actually a flyer from a chippy, and the only pencil he could find was a tiny one that’s used to keep the score in golf, but it’ll have to do. The words suddenly came to him, and he scribbled them down so he wouldn’t forget.

A fair amount of time must have passed, because it was now beginning to rain outside. The pattering of the light raindrops that were hitting the roof of the car made the small space feel more comfortable, and added the perfect amount of ambiance to continue writing. In fact, tear stains had made their way onto the paper, which surprised Tom, considering that he didn't even know he was crying. The emotions must’ve got the best of him, but he didn’t mind one bit.

At least now he had a physical reminder of how much he loved you.

Wiping the tears off his face, he took a sigh of relief. Writing that somehow felt liberating, and made him almost want to jump out of the car and start dancing in the rain. He felt on top of the world.

As he drove away from his parking spot, about a block and a half later, he looked up to see a stationary store and parked the car in front of the store, and ran inside.

—

Half an hour later, he made it back home, bag and letter in hand. You were still out with his mum, which to be honest wasn’t shocking. I bet she’ll get home well past midnight, knowing my mum, he thought.

Harry, Tuwaine and Harrison went out to go golfing, so Tom had the whole house to himself. He plopped down on the sofa and pulled out the new stationary and pens that he bought specifically for this.

While at the shop, he found a set of letters that looked almost identical to the letter keychain on the purse, and picked out a black pen. He carefully wrote the new letter with penmanship so precise, it made him feel as though he was back in primary school.

About twenty minutes had passed, but the letter was finally done. He had embellished the envelope by adding a couple hearts in different colours, and then carefully slipping the letter inside. Lastly, he wrote your name in cursive on the envelope, and then placed the completed letter inside the bag, right where the letter compartment was.

After neatly reassembling the bag back in its original wrapping, Tom placed the bag inside his closet and thought of a good time to give it to you. The best time, he thought, was to give it to you next week, right before he was set to fly back to Atlanta to finish filming.

—

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” You whined, which was slightly muffled by Tom’s pillows. Tom was sprawled out on the floor, stuffing different articles of clothing into his luggage.

“I wish I didn’t either darling.” He sighed, “but I promise I’ll be home before you know it.” He answered, knowing that he wasn’t entirely telling the truth. He would be gone for at least 3 months, which was going to feel like an eternity. The thought alone made him almost start crying, but he was trying to stay strong for you. He also couldn’t help thinking that you would leave him, since all of his past girlfriends left him due to the distance. It was just a matter of time before you did the same, but he tried not to dwell on that nagging thought. He knew you were patient, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last.

“Maybe I could come visit you, you know, when I have a chance?” You asked hesitantly, knowing full well that you were busy with work and school.

“I wish you could, but we both know that isn’t plausible right now.” It sounded harsher than he had intended to be, and he mentally grimaced. You, however, knew he was right. He had told you before that he doesn’t want you to sideline your own life because of his.

“I know.” You answered dejectedly, “but if and when I have a break, I’ll come out to see you.”

Tom finished folding his clothes, and stood up. Without saying a word, he looked over at you and noticed that your face was squeezed against his pillow, your eyes closed. And so; he went to his closet and moved the sheets that were covering your present. In one motion, he grabbed the bag and turned on his heels, and made his way back to his bed.

Without you noticing, he sat down and placed the bag in front of you, and poked your shoulder until you looked up at him.

“Hmm?” You inquired. Instead of responding, Tom scooted the bag closer to you, while sitting down on the corner of his bed. “What is it?”

“Sit up.” He instructed, and as you did so, you saw a gift bag placed in front of you. “Open it please.” He insisted, watching intently as you began to take the tissue paper out of the gift bag.

“Tom, this isn’t what I think it is, right?” You trailed off, and while Tom didn’t give you a verbal answer, it was written all over his face.

“The suspense is killing me,” he pleaded, “please open the bag.”

You did as you were told, and gasped when you pulled the purse out of the gift bag. It was even prettier in person, and somehow more breathtaking.

“Babe, I, what?” You choked out, unable to say anymore. A part of you was so happy that he gifted you with this, but another part of you knew how expensive the bag was.

“Now before you get mad, I know you said you didn’t want me to buy it for you, but I just knew that you wanted it, so I just had to treat you.” He stammered out, “please don’t hate me.”

Overcome with emotion, you threw your arms around Tom’s neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap. “I love it.” You whispered into his neck, and placed a kiss on his neck.

“Promise me you’ll keep it?” He asked, “I need you to promise me you won’t try to return it.”

“I promise I won’t. I’ll cherish it forever.”

—

Tom left the house at 2am, and was headed towards the airport. Leaving you was the hardest thing that he’s ever had to do, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

As you laid in his bed, bundled up in his sweatshirt, you clutched the bag to your chest. It was such a thoughtful gesture for him to buy it for you, but a piece of you did feel guilty that he spent the money on you.

The words he told you not to return the bag echoed in your head, and even though he made you swear not to do so, it did cross your mind. So, you thought, the only way you would be less tempted to return it is if you emptied out your old bag and put your belongings in that one instead. It took you a few minutes to do so, but now seeing your things in there made it feel more like yours.

Doing so tired you out, as it was now almost 3am. Clutching the bag as you settled into bed, you drifted off soundly, mentally preparing for your day tomorrow.

—

Waking up without Tom felt so strange, not having him there next to you. You checked your phone and saw a text from him, saying he loved you and landed safely, complete with a ton of heart emojis. It put a smile on your face, and quickly you typed back that you loved him more, and wished him luck on his day ahead.

About an hour later, you were off to your 9am philosophy class, one that you typically dreaded going to. Sometimes it was a heavy class to start the day off, especially when the coursework focused on the depressing aspects of life and hardship. It was a class that you always hoped to skip, but Tom always made sure you didn’t skip, no matter how badly you wanted to.

As you walked up to the door, you began to slow down. Was it worth going to class, knowing that you’re already pretty bummed out because Tom is away?

When the thought crossed your mind, you could hear Tom’s voice in your head convincing you to go. So, you drudged your way to the door and pulled the handle.

You walked to your seat and slumped into your chair, and placed your new bag on the empty seat next to you. When you went to grab your notebook and pencil, you looked up to see your friend Ella sitting in front of you, body turned to see you.

“Ooh, cute bag!” She exclaimed, eyes bright and cheerful.

“Thank you,” you answered, “it was a gift.” Your tone was a bit more curt than you had expected it to be, but you didn’t have enough energy to try to sound happier.

“Wow, I wish someone would gift me a present that nice.” Ella responded.

The girl sitting next to Ella, one that you didn’t personally know, turned around to see your bag.

“My sister has that same bag, and she loves it. It even has a secret compartment inside the letter keychain.” When she said that, your brows furrowed.

“Hmm, really? I didn’t know that.” You reached for your bag and placed it on your lap. When you pulled out the letter compartment, you noticed that, indeed, there was a hidden zipper. You slowly opened the zipper, and saw that there was an envelope inside. “Well that’s odd, there’s a letter inside, I didn’t know it came with one.” When you took a closer look, you saw that your name was written there, in what looked like Tom’s handwriting.

“It didn’t,” the girl replied, “or at least, it wasn’t supposed to.”

Ella gasped dramatically, “Maybe it’s from the person who gave you the gift—you should read it.”

Luckily, you didn’t have to tell her no, because at that moment, the professor began to start his lecture. You zipped the zipper shut and placed the bag next to you, although you noticed your heart was racing. The thought of Tom writing you a letter made you feel giddy, and in a way, saddening. It made you realise that he wasn’t here with you, but instead thousands of miles away. The class went by ridiculously slowly, but when the professor wrapped up his lecture, you bolted out the door. You sped walk to the nearest bench underneath a pine tree, and hurriedly sat down, reaching for the letter.

He had placed the envelope in there neatly, and even wrote your name in cursive. There were little hearts drawn all over the envelope, even going as far as addressing it from Atlanta, as if he really sent it through the post to you.

The attention to detail already made tears fall onto your cheeks, knowing that Tom really went out of his way to write you a letter. Carefully, you pulled the letter out of the envelope, straightening it a bit before reading it.

My eternal love,

I’m glad you found this letter, sealed and ready for you to read it. I had thought about giving it to you before I left, but I hope this makes it even more special.

When I went to get the bag for you, I had a long conversation with a woman who reminded me how important love is, and how I shouldn’t take it for granted. And, after talking to her, she knew that we had the kind of love that will last a thousand years, and span a million lifetimes.

I now just realised that of course, our relationship is still relatively new, but she just knew that what we have is special; and well, I hope so too.

All my thoughts are consumed by you and you alone; about how happy you make me feel, how safe and secure I feel in your arms, and with you, I feel that anything is possible. The world seems kinder and nicer with you in it, and I feel a sense of divine happiness that I’ve never felt before when we’re together.

I haven’t said this to you yet, or at least not out loud, but I love you. I really, truly, love you. I’ve never been more sure of anything, but this I know indefinitely.

I love all of the little things about you-how you are incredibly patient, loving, and caring. I love when you run your fingers through my hair after a long day, calming me down instantly. I love how you give me your million dollar smile when I kiss you on the cheek, and how you make me feel calm and safe in my extremely hectic life.

All I know is that I love you, through and through, and I hope you feel the same way too.

Forever yours- no matter how far away I am from you,

Tom x

By now, you could hardly read through the tears. You had no idea he was so poetic, and how open he was being with you right now, and the image of him writing this heartfelt letter brought happy tears to your eyes. He loved you so immensely, and it was so comforting to have him say it.

As you wiped the tears with the sleeve of your sweater, you knew you had to tell him you loved him back. And so, you opened up your text messages, found your guys conversation, and voice messaged back,

“I love you more.”

——

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sinisterspidey @cali-holland @duskholland  @yourstrulyamour​ @determined-overthinker​

[the-singlest-pringle]

Bruised

For @whumptober 2022 day 4: hidden injury, waking up disoriented, can't pass out

Fandom: My Hero Academia

CW: child abuse, injuries/hiding injuries, passing out

Read it here on AO3

Most of Katsuki’s weekends were spent at the dorms, but Mitsuki had sent a “special note” requesting his presence over the weekend for family business. ‘Family business’ meaning he had a shoot on Saturday and his mother wanted to make sure he didn’t eat so that he was camera ready.

He didn’t know how things got bad so quickly on Sunday. Maybe it started when he got to his house late after losing track of time while studying with Kirishima. Maybe it was the way he talked back to the photographer for being too touchy. Or maybe his mother thought he closed the car door too harshly on their way back home. But now it was 14:00 on Sunday and Mitsuki was breaking down his door.

She yanked the duvet off of his sleeping body and shook him awake. “What the fuck are you still doing in bed?”

Katsuki took a few seconds to get oriented before Mitsuki impatiently slapped the side of his head. He growled. “It’s a fucking Sunday, hag! I was working all day yesterday.” 

Mitsuki crossed her arms and scoffed. “There are no days off when you’re an adult. There’s shit for you to do around the house! You need to clean the kitchen, take out the trash, and scrub the bathroom.”

“Why the fuck can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m busy! Besides, I paid for this house. You’re just living in it.”

“Actually, you only paid for half. Dad paid for the other half. And since it’s ‘your house’, why don’t you clean it then?” He didn’t know why he was talking back. Katsuki knew it would only make things worse. But Sunday was the only day of the week where he allowed himself to sleep in. Maybe not until 14:00, but the shoot had gone until 21:00 the previous night and being around his mother was exhausting without starving himself and posing for an entire day.

“I’m tired of your shit, Katsuki! I will not be disrespected by you in my own home. Get your shit together, got it?” Mitsuki started towards the door.

“Fucking bitch,” he grumbled under his breath.

Mitsuki whipped around again, her eyes looking as if they were on fire. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re a fucking bitch!”

In a split second, Katsuki was being dragged out of his beds as he was hit with ringed backhands and fists from his mom. He could barely understand her tirade about respect and responsibility and eventually tuned out the world when she became too tired to use her hands and moved to her feet. All he could do was take it. He couldn’t fight back. Hitting his mom would make him no better than she was. But then again, that’s exactly what I did to Deku, wasn’t it?

Katsuki didn’t know how long it went. He lost count of the amount of hits his mother landed. But by the time he woke up, he had a migraine pounding against his skull and his body was sore as if he had just run a marathon. God, what time is it? He slowly picked himself up off the floor, feeling like he weighed two tons, and checked his phone. It was already 18:00. Shit! How was I out for four hours? He would have to leave for the dorms in about ten minutes if he wanted to make it back to UA before Sunday curfew. His mother avoided his face this time, which meant he got to avoid the prying eyes of Kirishima and Deku. 

His mother was holed up in her office again, allowing him to slip out of the house unnoticed. When his mother got this bad, she tended to avoid him for a while afterwards. At least he got out of his “house work.”

The walk to the train station was not that far, but it felt like an eternity with his aching legs, and every slight jostle on the train only reaggravated the injuries. Every time he felt himself nodding off, a particularly harsh turn would jolt him awake with a hiss. The people around him just averted their eyes at his clear discomfort. Even as he limped pathetically back to UA, he could only hear the whispers about the ‘Sports Festival Kid’, but had no faces to connect them to. They probably thought that he had gotten into a fight with some poor, unassuming kid and got his ass handed to him. They would be right about the second part, but would never guess that he was the unassuming kid this time around.

Katsuki arrived at the dorms at 19:25, five minutes before curfew and too late for his liking. He stopped in front of the door, massaging his temples at the seemingly ever-present migraine. He doesn’t know if she managed to land a hit on his head or if the migraine is from the stress of the weekend. Either way, it hurt like a bitch. But he had to suck it up before he got inside and was inevitably surrounded by idiots.

As soon as he opened the door, he was shoved a few steps back by a streak of blond hair bounding into his chest. He barely held in a hiss of pain before his annoyance took over. “Dunce Face, get the fuck off me.”

“Aw come on, Kacchan! We haven’t seen you all weekend!” Kaminari whined. Katsuki just rolled his eyes before shoving the other boy off him. The rest of the idiots were already making their way over. 

“Did you enjoy your weekend, Bakugou?” Kirishima asked.

“Yeah. You could say that. But now I need to fucking sleep for the next twelve hours,” Katsuki grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. It felt like his migraine was getting worse.

“Sleep? But you promised us you would help us cram for the exam tomorrow!” Ashido cried in a shrill voice. It was as if she wanted his head to explode.

“And didn’t you say last week that you were going to sleep in today so that you could?” Kirishima added.

“You didn’t forget, right?” Sero asked incredulously. Katsuki totally forgot. It must have been obvious on his face because Kaminari was immediately hounding him.

“Holy shit. Bakugou forgot!” Kaminari laughed, slapping Katsuki on the back. This time, he couldn’t suppress his wince. The group immediately stopped laughing, eyes turning towards the sound that sounded unnatural coming from their friend. “Woah, sorry man. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

“It’s fucking fine. You didn’t. I just… I just pulled a muscle training… earlier,” he lied. But it didn’t do anything to stop the looks on his friends’ faces. “Don’t fucking look at me like that.” He pushed his was past the group and started towards the elevator. 

Upon realizing that no one was following him, he turned around and called out, “Am I fucking tutoring you guys or not? Let’s fucking go!” Katsuki rolled his eyes when the rest of the squad started scrambling after him. “Idiots,” he mumbled under his breath.

-

Turns out, tutoring a bunch of loud, extroverted teenagers in a class they were absolutely dreadful in was not the best thing to do while nursing several injuries and a possible concussion. Every time they had their focus on anything other than him, he felt like he was going to pass out. But Katsuki promised he would tutor them, and he didn’t go back on his promises.

When his vision started fading in and out again, he dug his fingernails into his palm. He was startled out of his stupor when a light hand touched his shoulder. He turned his head to the source and was met with red eyes dripping with concern. “You okay, bro? You seem kind of out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just tired,” Katsuki mumbled.

“You sure? You’re looking a little pale, Blasty?” Ashido added. Did he look pale? He didn’t know. His whole body felt like it was vibrating, bouncing back and forth between on fire and completely numb. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his mouth felt the same. He was sure if he was going to throw up or completely black out. Water.

Katsuki slowly pushed his seat out and stood up, stumbling in the process. He felt several hands supporting him, adding to his pain, but he was too out of it to react.

“Woah, man. You don’t look to good,” Sero commented. 

“I- I’m fine. I just need-” Katsuki didn’t finish his sentence before everything went black.

“Holy shit!” Sero screamed as all of them dove to catch him. Kirishima, being the closest, ended up with an awkward armful of dead weight.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Ashido said frantically.

“I don’t know! He just fucking collapsed!” Kaminari panicked.

“Obviously! I was asking why!”

“Well I don’t fucking know why! I know just as much as you do!”

“It was a rhetorical question, Kami!”

“Guys! Stop fighting and help me!” Kirishima bellowed.

“Right. Sorry.”

Kirishima lowered him to the floor, resting his head in his lap. He assessed his friend’s condition, taking in the pale, clammy skin and shallow breaths. “There’s something more going on than just exhaustion.

Sero’s brow furrowed and he kneeled next to Bakugou’s head, pulling out his flashlight and opening Bakugou’s eyes. “He has a concussion. We have to try and wake him up.”

Ashido knelt down and shook his shoulder gently. “Blasty, we need you to wake up.” Bakugou stirred, but didn’t open his eyes.

Ashido shook a little harder while still being as careful as she could. “Come on, Bakugou. You have to wake up.”

Slowly, Bakugou opened his eyes. “Th’ fuck? Why ‘m I on th’ floor?”

Kaminari exhaled in relief. “You passed out, bro. You have a concussion.”

“Shit. I was hoping it was just a migraine.” Bakugou slowly sat himself up, head spinning at the change in position. He shoved off any attempts of help from Kirishima.

“You knew about it and didn’t say anything?” Ashido scolded, slapping his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Raccoon Eyes. Go easy.”

Ashido huffed in annoyance. “Do you have any other injuries we don’t know about besides the concussion and supposed ‘pulled muscle’?”

“I think I have a few bruises somewhere. I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sero exclaimed.

“I didn’t really check.”

Kirishima pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. “God, Bakugou. Take off your shirt.”

“At least take me out to dinner first, Shitty Hair.” Kirishima leveled him with a deadly glare. “Alright, fine!” Bakugou removed his shirt slowly, partly due to the pain and also to delay as long as possible. Bakugou winced at the gasps from his friends. And he understood why. When he looked down, he was surprised himself. It looked like Jackson Pollock entered his blue period and decided to use him as a canvas.

“Dude. What were you even doing for training? Did you throw yourself into a giant washing machine or something?” Kaminari joked.

“Or something,” was all Bakugou could respond with.

Sero raised an eyebrow. “It looks like you got shoved down several flights of stairs.”

“Not this time,” he muttered.

Ashido squawked. “‘Not this time’?!”

“Where did you get these injuries, Bakugou,” Kirishima asked with a hardened voice. Bakugou just looked away. “Bakugou.”

“Pissed off my mom,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Kaminari balked. “Your mom did this? God, I’m gonna punch her. I don’t care that she’s hot.”

“Kami!” Ashido scolded with a slap to Kaminari’s shoulder. “But he’s right. She shouldn’t have done this.”

Bakugou waved them off. “It’s fine. It’s not usually this bad.”

“Not usual- scratch that. I’m gonna fucking murder her,” Kirishima growled darkly.

“Do not kill my mom, Shitty Hair.”

“Fine. But we have to tell someone!”

“No! We can’t!”

What? Is his pride that important to him? “Bakugou! Your mom can’t get away with this!”

“She can and she did! Just let it go!”

“But she hurt you! We have to do somethi-”

“Kirishima! Drop it.” Bakugou closed himself off, turning away from Kirishima.

“But…”

“Please,” Bakugou pleaded, his voice on the edge of breaking.

“Okay… Okay. I’ll let it go. But can you at least let us help you right now?”

“Fine.” Bakugou said nothing as his friends helped him onto his bed. They all stayed silent as they applied bruise cream and bandages to his wounds. They stayed silent every time he winced at a particularly painful bruise. They stayed silent even when the tears started. Even when the tears turned to whimpers, and then choked sobs. They just held their friend, hurt because he was hurt, and because they couldn’t do anything more than they already had.