#dumbest fucking I’ve ever drawn I swear to god

[scrapnick]

Did I say fix him? I meant have him fixed. ✂️

[good-old-kooks]

Hi, I spent the entirety of last night drawing an entire a4 page’s worth of shitty Spade King doodles and I’m going to make that everyone elses problem. Incoherent ramblings about the drawings (that aren’t on the image already) under the cut.

I think it’s VERY telling that, out of all of the kings, this asshole’s the one wearing the most black. Like, come on, he’s such a moody bitch, staring off of the balcony of his castle before his battle and shit. And having his tits out 24/7? Dumbest motherfucker alive.

Spade yelling. I like his teef :)

I can bet my ass the only reason he doesn’t swear in-game is because he’s trying to look all cool and dignified. He’s such a fucking tryhard it’s embarrassing. 

This man eats soap you can’t convince me otherwise. There’s legit reasoning behind this headcanon of mine but no one cares lmao, so all you need to know is that Spade and Lancer can both digest just about anything and soap is just Spade’s personal favourite.

Greedy bastard. Again, teef are mostly the reason I drew this one. Also please for the love of god ignore the shitty cape. I gave -5 shits about drawing his cape in the smaller sketches. Also yeah all of these are just coloured sketches, I swear I usually draw better than this.

HE LISTENS TO BOOMER MUSIC YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. THIS IS SINGLEHANDEDLY THE BEST ART I’VE EVER DRAWN IN MY LIFE-

Anyway here’s human Spade. Both my sister and best friend said he looks ugly and I think that means I did my job REALLY well.

Oh yeah, I also have full personality headcanons for all the other kings, I just happen to like Spade the best. I like seeing just how much I can stretch and pull an expression for exaggeration purposes. Spade is really useful for that because he has a REALLY weird and specific design, so he’s easally recognizable.

Seam and Jevil cameos. Again, you can’t convince me that Spade ISN’T the “no fun allowed” king. Also I JUST realised I didn’t draw a Rouxls cameo on this entire page... Good.

What else is there to say? Other than the fact that the proportions on this are the worst I’ve ever done. I had to re-scale Lancer TWICE. And it STILL looks bad.

Yeah I don’t know the context for this one, I just thought it was a cool pose, and gave him something in-character to say along to that. I’m considering actually making this a Real Finished Drawing but god only knows how long THAT will take.

Bonus Lancer for your patience in reading through all this.

Also, shameless plug, I made a playlist of songs I associate with/are about the Spade King, it’s called the Spadelist. Right now there’s not much on it, other than remixes of his theme and some other metal songs and metal adjacent songs I think fit him. Check it out if you want, it’s only 21 songs thus far, but I plan to keep updating it.

[keijikunn]

All Of Your Soul

Part of the @babythotshq mini collab!! You can check the other parts here!

Pairing: demon!Tsukishima Kei x gender neutral!reader Genre: angst, crack if you squint for like 2 seconds  Summary: Your superstitious grandmother always told you not to get involved with demons, but how could you not when Tsukishima Kei, the one you’ve summoned, was so alluring? Word count: ~3.4k

Author’s note: Happy Halloween!! I hope you enjoy this piece, and a massive shoutout to @hidden-otaku-stuff  @kaitycole  and of course @babythotshq who helped me out during the process of writing this fic! Love you all mwah mwah 💞

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, minor and major character death, yandere!tsukki, mentions of violence, mention of sex, swearing

Ever since you were a kid, your grandmother warned you about the evil creatures that cohabited the world you lived in. She was often called crazy because of it - after all, she was an old lady talking non-stop about demons. However, that topic amazed you rather than giving you chills down your spine. Your curiosity grew progressively as she told you the same thing over and over: “Don’t mess up with them, or else they’ll take your soul away”.

You always thought grandma told you those stories just to scare you off, to make sure you would stay in line. But the way you’d laugh it off at the age of 7 almost like daring the threat hinted your disbelief. 

"The entire hell can come get me, they won't be able to touch me!" you once told your grandmother, which earned you a scoff and a flick on your forehead. 

"Oh, Y/N" she cooed, almost in pity, patting your head. "You will regret it when you're older," 

And once again, you laughed at her. 

It became part of your childhood, long forgotten as the years passed by and the concept of believing in demons appeared to be silly. Your memory permanently buried it in the depths of your mind after your dear grandmother passed away, leaving this world with her tales from underworld creatures.

A long time since she passed,, you remembered the spooky way the old woman would tell you different myths when you were packing your belongings to leave for college. The old box stuffed inside the attic filled with dusty and thick books lit a lamp in your head, concluding your grandma used to tell you those stories. 

Not only did she have short terrifying ones, your grandma seemed to be way more superstitious than just believing in simple tales. Some of them had different symbols, with many side notes written - assumably - by your late relative. The barely readable handwritten overlapped one another, all information mixing into a big mess that you could hardly understand. 

“Granny was really into it, huh?” 

It wouldn’t hurt reading them - after all, it would be for the sake of your childhood. 

And just like you found yourself drawing strange patterns inside a circle on the floor of your bedroom with chalk, it hardly appeared but you didn’t mind. It’s just some made up stories, you thought, proceeding to let an airy laugh just thinking about your grandmother tossing and turning in her coffin. Your disbelief in these surely came from your young age. After that, all you needed to do was a single drop of your blood and say some weird phrases. 

“If it doesn’t work, it’s because of these freaking sentences,” you muttered, pricking your finger with a needle. As the red liquid fell on the center of the circle you drew, the difficult words slipped out of your lips.

A few minutes passed by after you finished the ritual and the bedroom was engulfed in silence. How you wished you could talk to your grandmother right now, just to rub it in her face that she was wrong - even though you had a mess to clean. Tossing the old book aside, you laughed at the situation you had put yourself in and undid a part of the draw. 

“You know, ever since you were a kid your sassy attitude got me on my nerves,” a second voice echoed, a male one. 

You have never turned your head so quickly in your life, looking for the person who just spoke to you. A tall, blonde guy stood on the other side of the circle; the black dress shirt had the first three buttons undone matching with the black slacks. He was handsome, and you wondered if it was your mind’s work to show you one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen (and imagined) in your life. “It’s rude to stare”

“I must be crazy,” you laughed, rubbing your eyes, when you opened them again, he was still there, with an annoyed look on his features. “Granny must be pranking me, there’s no fucking way I summoned-”

“A demon, actually you just did, haven’t you read the book, dumbass?” he hissed, rolling his eyes. The blonde man crouched to look at the poorly drawn summoning circle and scoffed. “I wonder how you managed to summon me, this shit is terrible, not to mention your Latin”

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s fucking hard to draw it, let alone speaking goddamn Latin!” This guy, this demon was pissing you out, and he had only been in your room for less than five minutes. “Okay, I guess you’re real, my grandma was right, go to hell”

“A lot of people have already told me this joke, and I have to remind every single human that it sucks,” he snapped angrily, before sighing in defeat and looking at you. “What do you want from me?”

“Me, nothing,” you chimed sarcastically. “I was serious when I told you to go to hell, demon.”

“Can you please not call me demon?!”

“So how should I call you? Rex?”

“Jesus, you’re so annoying-”

“I thought demons couldn’t say Jesus’ name, Rex”

“For fucks sake, it’s Tsukishima!” he said louder than he wanted, his voice vibrated inside your body sending chills down your spine. “You’re the worst human that has ever summoned me, and it was just for fun!” 

“Then stop complaining and return to hell, it’s not that hard!” you shot back, just as annoyed as him. A part of yourself, the superstitious one, the same one that had believed for a short while in your grandma, was screaming at yourself for picking up a fight with a demon, but your prideful one wouldn’t let that go easily. 

“I can’t just do it when you fucking used your blood while summoning me!” Tsukishima exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know how to read? It clearly says that blood rituals are strong, they tie your soul to me.”

“You’re telling me you, a demon, can't undo this shit?” you asked, at the sight of the male shaking his head sideways you groan frustrated. "What kind of shitty demons are you?"

"A demon that is way smarter than you, idiot." he mocked angrily.

"What am I going to do with such a pain in the ass?" The question didn't look for a proper answer from him, but either way he grunted in protest. "If I pray to whatever god, will you be repelled?"

"You're really the dumbest human I’ve ever met," Tsukishima stated as he rolled his eyes. "Of course not, what do you think I am? An ordinary demon from a shitty movie?"

"Well-"

"You know what? Don't answer it," he cut you, shaking his hand as if the gesture would shut you off. "Clean this mess, it's giving me chills seeing such a bad job." 

"Use your demon powers to clean it all!"

"I'm not a fucking fairy!"

Tsukishima was just a single demon, but his presence seemed to bring the whole hell to you. His witty and unnecessary comments easily threw you off the edge, and as if he noticed, which he probably did, the man made sure to say at least one provoking statement every single time he opened his mouth.

It wasn’t easy to get used with his presence, especially when Tsukishima made sure to remind you every minute you were awake that “it’s your fault”. 

Yet, the demon did not tell you how to break whatever bond you established with him. You came to the conclusion that his duty whenever he was summoned was to annoy people out. What a useless demon, you thought once, just to hear him screaming profanities and insults inside your head.

You have never imagined that this situation would drag for so long. Tsukishima was there on your first day at college, and he made sure to make you embarrass yourself in front of your class. He was also there to ruin your first date with a cute guy from one of your periods, Inuoka ended the night a bit paranoid about someone following him around.

“I think you told me you weren’t a fairy to do this kind of thing, Tsukki” you commented sarcastically, feeling the anger bubble inside your chest. 

“You heard it right, Y/N,” he answered, throwing himself at your not-so-comfortable sofa, stretching his legs over the coffee table in front of it. “That guy looked like a little boy scared of his own shadow!”

“Why did you do it?!” The question came out more desperate than you wanted it to be. Inuoka wasn’t the first man Tsukishima pulled a stunt on, and by the way your personal demon (as you address him) acts it’s not going to be the last. “He was so nice, he didn’t deserve this childish attitude of yours!”

“Well, he doesn’t have part of your soul like I do,” Tsukishima muttered quietly, but his eyes spoke volumes about his feelings. The possessiveness shone in his golden-brown orbs, a hint of jealous maybe, and you wondered once again if he had feelings like you.

“Tsukishima…” 

All words left your brain as the tall man walked over you, holding your face with his hand. He ran his thumb over your lips and squeezed your cheeks with his grip, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “What are you-”

“You’re mine.” He spoke firmly, not giving a chance to say anything back. “I have a part of me in you and part of your soul is mine. You are mine”

Without a warning, Tsukishima leaned down to smash his lips against yours. His movements were harsh, but it didn’t take too long for you to give in into the heated kiss. Your head was empty, and all you could feel was his mouth on yours and a slender hand travelling inside your shirt. The lack of air in your system made you pull away from the contact, locking eyes with him with a clear question mark above your head. 

“What the hell was that, Tsukki?” The anger vanished, leaving behind confusion and a bit of… desire inside of you. 

“I’m just showing you who you belong to.” 

At that moment you couldn’t see all the red flags on that simple statement. The frustration of many failed dates piled up on your nerves to the point that you were not able to see the meaning behind those words. The mere thought of a man desiring you probably the same way as you did blinded you, and that made you snake your hands around Tsukishima’s neck and bring him down to another feverish kiss.

The rest of the night passed by like a blur, Tsukishima’s touch was hot on your skin - and you enjoyed it. The sane part of your brain didn’t have enough room to question your actions: what on Earth were you doing hooking up with a demon? Were you that desperate to be intimate with someone? As quickly as those thoughts invaded your mind, the man towering over you proceeded to take your focus to himself

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but once you woke up, feeling sore as fuck, you noticed Tsukki lying next to you. His eyes were closed, yet you knew for a fact he wasn’t in a deep slumber-  he didn't need sleep. Nevertheless, you took a few moments to appreciate the view, at the same time flashes of your previous activities together came to you just like a fever dream. 

“You don’t have a brain to think too much, dumbass,” he said without even looking at you, a sly smile graced his face nicely and you wondered if he was, at some point in his life, an actual angel. “Do you know who you belong to?”

“I’m not really sure,” you replied shamelessly. Tsukishima’s eyes opened to look straight at yours, arching his eyebrows at your daring tone. “All I remember is a very annoying demon being a bitch about a guy I was interested in”

Messing with Tsukishima became one of your favourite things, because his immediate response was to pin you on the next hard surface and engage in a messy kiss. Being with him was way different than any other relationship you've had, which weren't many since that demon was on your ass ever since you started college. 

Either way, you loved the push and pull between you two. The constant bickering would eventually turn into a heated make out session, and sometimes even more than that. You completely forgot that the man you were in a sort of relationship (if you could call it that way) was a supernatural creature; your mind chose to bury the important information of who Tsukishima really was: a demon.

His actions started to change after over a month or two since you fucked for the first time. Although the snarky and teasing comments were far from coming to an end, you found yourself curled next to him every night. Tsukishima would hold you before you sleep, even if he had to spend a few hours in the same position (which never lasted long, he learned in the hard way that you toss and turn a lot). 

You also changed around him, much to your surprise. You no longer found other men at college attractive; your Friday nights were spent on your couch with Tsukishima next to you, with a random movie on the TV while the two of you kiss. He was your getaway when things got too rough for you, with his hot touches and endless desire. 

Maybe it was the attention Tsukishima gave you, or perhaps that he has been with you for so long, but he managed to win your heart completely. Every time the blonde demon hissed “you’re mine”, how he always satiates your desires and even the awkward moments when he tries to cuddle you. Every little thing this man does pull the strings attached to your heart and mind. 

And you knew Tsukishima noticed your change of demeanor as well, how you got clingier as the months passed by, the soft tone on your voice and the lack of sarcastic responses to his mean comments. You were falling in love with him, and it was the most obvious thing Tsukki has ever witnessed during his whole life dealing with humans.

“I think I love you, Tsukki” you managed to say, your body trembled due to the intense pleasure the man above you just provided. His eyes were unreadable as he looked down at you, but you could dare to say there was a hint of fondness swimming in them. “I never thought it would be possible to fall in love with in all creatures, a demon”

“Yeah?” he caressed your cheek, tracing down to your neckline and pressing on the reddish marks on your skin. “And you were the almighty kid who didn’t believe in demons”

“A pretty annoying demon changed my mind, I have to add” the smile on your face was small, but held so much meaning. However, Tsukishima didn’t mirror your feelings, displaying a rather sadistic one instead. “And you, have you changed your mind about humans?”

“Who knows?” Tsukishima asked rhetorically, letting his body fall next to yours on the bed. "You're the most… interesting human I've met." 

You laughed at his comment, pressing your face against his side in a loving manner. The fact that Tsukishima stood still instead of responding to the display of affection went unnoticed by you; he was being himself, you tried to justify his stiffness. 

Your relationship with him was just like that: you being overly affectionate and Tsukishima… being himself, the hard to approach demon with beautiful looks and with a magnetic aura. You fell easily for him, like getting used to a new daily routine. In a matter of time you found yourself being more vocal about your quick paced heart, the butterflies flying inside your stomach and even the high pitched tone of your voice whenever you couldn't retort one of his comments. 

The man, on the other hand, didn’t follow this demeanor - in fact, Tsukishima started to act the opposite way. He would avoid your touches like the plague, leaving your apartment late at night and returning near the afternoon with purple marks on his neck and collarbones. Something inside you, jealousy, lit up like setting something on fire: wild, uncontrolled and destructive. Once it starts burning, it won’t stop easily. 

“Can’t you stop fucking other people around?!” You screamed at him, not caring if the clock on the wall just hit three in the morning. “Am I not enough for you?”

“Stop making a case out of it, Y/N” Tsukishima rolled his eyes trying to pass through you, only to be blocked by your body. “Jesus, why are you being so jealous?! We have nothing between us”

“I am fucking in love with you, dumbass!” Your high pitched voice was followed by a dead silence. Tsukishima stared at you blankly while you took deep breaths in order to calm yourself, but the adrenaline of your confession didn’t help you stay quiet. “I’ve been head over heels for you for the longest time and you proceeded to hook up with other people every night… Am I that easy for you? I love you with all my heart, a part of my soul is yours- why can’t you do the same?”

All you could hear at first was your erratic breathing pattern, then the room was filled with his laugh. He was laughing as if someone had just told him the funniest joke he ever heard, the way his torso bent forward to accompany sick amusement creeped you out. Tsukishima pretended to wipe a tear and smiled at you. 

“Oh, Y/N… You’re definitely something else, huh?” He said rhetorically, stretching his arm so his hand could cup your face. You stood still, suddenly unsure about his actions and words. Tsukishima has never used such a cold and psychotic tone with you, let alone that sadistic smirk hiding so many feelings. “So you finally accepted that you’re mine, right?”

“H-How can I be yours if you don’t give yourself to me, as well?” Never in your life have you felt so terrified, something in Tsukishima’s demeanor screamed that he wasn’t joking around. He was about to do something bad, and it would be against you. “Isn’t my love enough for you?”

“Well, to be honest? It’s almost enough” he agreed, his index finger traced down your cheeks, following down your neck until it pointed directly to the left side of your chest, above your beating heart. “So, shall I claim what is mine?”

The time seemed to be slowed down, your heartbeats were loud in your ears and your limbs were numb - you couldn’t move them at all. Regardless, it would be impossible for you, a mere human, to stop Tsukishima from slamming his hand against your chest. You didn’t feel physical pain, but the sensation of something, someone wrapping slender fingers around your inner self made you scream. 

“Tsukishima, w-what are you doing?” Your trembling voice made him laugh, the same hand he used to hit you fully on display for you to see him close it. The immediate reaction of you was a shriek, as if the demon was squeezing your insides. “What the fuck, Tsukki?”

 “Why are you so surprised?” Tsukishima asked with fake innocence, wiping the tears you didn’t know you shed. “You just told me you loved me with all your heart, that a part of your soul is mine… So I’m claiming my belongings, after all, this is the kind of demon I am: whenever a stupid little human like you summons me with blood, they sell their souls to me. It’s a matter of time for me to get it”

“I… I trusted you, Tsukki…” Your sobs interrupted your own speech. All the intimate moments you two have spent together were pure acting, meaningless, just to make you give your everything spontaneously to him. 

Your grandmother was right. You regretted every single interaction you had with Tsukishima, the demon you summoned before entering college. 

“Well, it’s your own fault.” With that, Tsukishima harshly pulled his hand backwards, leaving behind only an empty body with no soul. 

TAGLIST

crossed users are the ones i couldn’t tag!

@jovialnoise @paripedia @angmarwitch @shinhiromi @mariachiiii @elianetsantana @moonlightaangel @vicassa @boosyboo9206 @shrimpypenis @sunshine-hina @kozupresh @humanitysbiggestsimp @atsumubabe​ @sachirou-senpai

[ladymercytaylor]

All In - Chapter 7 (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

A/N: S’up homies! Here’s Chapter 7 for you. And again shout out to those who left comments on my last chapter. I treasure you and your validation <3 Summary: You and Joe were in a blissful relationship for 4 years. It seemed as though everything was perfect. You’d moved in together and all of your friends were taking bets on when he’d finally put a ring on your finger. That is until it all fell apart. Now, 1 year on you’re thrown together at a mutual friend’s wedding and it changes everything between you. 

Previous Chapter can be found HERE

Chapter 7 – 13 weeks

And so life continued. Thankfully, your morning sickness did fade away as you entered the start of your second trimester. It still wasn’t perfect; there were definitely times you had your doubts about managing the commute to work, but luckily Nugget seemed to be giving you a break. Maybe they knew you couldn’t face anything else after that night with Joe. He’d tried so desperately to get in touch with you in the first few days after the fight – to try and explain himself better than he had that evening. 33 notifications popped up on your phone the next day but all his calls and messages went unanswered. When that didn’t work he appeared on your doorstep that Friday night, but Flick was adamant that he stay away. “No, Joe” she stated for the thousandth time after he pleaded with her to let him over the threshold. “She’s not ready to talk to you” “Maybe she’s changed her mind?” he asked hopefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet. But the frown that twisted your roommate’s mouth was not encouraging. “Why don’t you just pop in and ask her?” “I don’t need to” she replied evenly, crossing her arms over her chest. Joe groaned petulantly as she continued to block his path, the noise echoing down the deserted corridor.

“Flick, come on, please” he tried to plead again but the frown creasing her brow rapidly deepened into a scowl.

“Joe. I’m going to put this to you bluntly. You hurt her” she stated, each world dripping with frustration. “You don’t get to decide when she’s ready to talk. And no matter how many times you pester me I will not let you in until she tells me it’s okay” Joe sighed reluctantly. He knew better than to push Flick. You and her were closer than sisters and he knew she’d stop at nothing to protect you. So he retreated with his tail between his legs, his heart falling in his chest as he walked to the elevator, the only sound that followed him was the thud of your front door swinging closed.

“So, have you spoken to him?” Flick asked quietly as she slid a cup of coffee into your waiting hands. You glared at her through your lashes as you lifted the mug to your lips and took a drawn out sip. “It’s been 2 weeks, Y/N” she sighed dramatically, setting down her cup of tea with a loud thump. “You’re going to have to talk to him at some point”  “Not ready” you muttered against the china rim, your gaze drifting to the chipped kitchen counter. “Don’t even know what I’d say to him” “How about ‘What you said to me really hurt and I want you to apologise but I’m also going to apologise for calling our baby a mistake?’” she offered, staring pointedly at you.  “It is a mistake” you muttered angrily, fingers curling so tightly around the cup that your knuckles ached. Silence settled over the two of you as you stared angrily at the flowers on your pyjama shorts. How could it not be a mistake? Everything was going fine before Joe was thrown back into your life. Work was good and you were living with your best friend in one of the best cities in the world in an amazing apartment. Your dating life had, admittedly, been lacklustre at best but that wasn’t an invitation for the universe to throw your hurricane of an ex-boyfriend back into your life. And if felt like a sick joke to you that this was how you were getting the family you’d always dreamed of.  “Would you really have kept it if you honestly thought it was a mistake?” she proposed gently before moving to tip the remainder of he tea down the sink. A heavy silence settled over the kitchen as you stared at the milky brown liquid in your mug. “I’ve got to get ready for work” you mumbled, pushing yourself off the bar seat and abandoning the still steaming cup of coffee on the counter top. Flick watched your retreating figure, a disappointed sigh slipping passed her lips. When you first announced your pregnancy a small part of her had hoped that you would soften up a bit when it came to Joe. Despite all his mistakes she knew that he never meant to hurt you. When the two of you were together you were always his number one priority, and Flick thought it was laughable that you didn’t notice that after all this time you still were. He always came over to your apartment to hang out. Always brought some food he knew you liked or was instructed to buy at the behest of Nugget (Pickles in salted caramel ice-cream was the strangest one so far). Joe was constantly checking in with you throughout the day, offering to come by if you wanted company when Flick was at the restaurant and she’d even overheard him on the phone cancelling plans because you’d asked him to go and see a movie that she had no interest in. It filled her heart with sadness to watch you pull away from him, because even if he’d gone about it in the dumbest way imaginable - he was right. The two of you belonged together.

“I’ve fucked it, Rami” he moaned, his voice muffled by the pillow his face was currently shoved into. “You haven’t done yourself any favours” Rami agreed, aimlessly twiddling his thumbs. Joe pulled his now flushed face out of the cushion to glare softly at his friend. “You’re meant to be making me feel better” he reminded him and the older man couldn’t stop the chuckle from tumbling passed his lips. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I don’t know how. Starting a fight with a pregnant girl is just…a terrible idea” Rami sighed with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to” he groaned, head falling back onto the bed. “She was so upset and that made me upset and then it all just…spilled out” “If you were better at controlling your spilling you might have avoided this whole situation” he chuckled. “That’s nasty, even for you” Joe admonished with a frown. “Sorry” Rami apologised, taking advantage of Joe’s distraction to pull out his phone. “Lucy says that you’re an idiot” he murmured as he looked at the glowing screen. “Great. Swear to God is no one on my side?!” he exclaimed. Despite knowing that you were entirely justified in not wanting to speak to Joe, Rami couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d been thrown into an impossible situation with the girl that everyone knew was the one that got away. Well…the one that he pushed away was more accurate. “She says that you’re an idiot, but you’re trying to make it right and that’s what really counts” Rami clarified, tucking the red iPhone back into his jeans. Joe felt his heart warm with affection for his blonde friend. “And this isn’t about picking sides, Joe. It’s about what is best for the three of you. And ripping open old wounds is definitely not the right choice” “I thought if I told her it might change things” Joe admitted, guilt gnawing at his stomach. “She needed to know it was a mistake” he ran his hands roughly over his hair, mussing up the already dishevelled auburn strands. “And now she knows” Rami murmured, picking at a stray thread on his shirt sleeve. “And now I know she regrets this whole thing” Joe whispered, his eyes prickling uncomfortably. “People say things they don’t mean when they’re upset” Rami hummed softly, reaching out to pat his friend gently on the shoulder. “Just wait until she’s ready to talk. And I wouldn’t panic about her never wanting to talk to you again” he added quickly when he saw Joe open his mouth to retaliate. “When has Y/N ever been able to keep her mouth shut?” he chuckled quietly and he smiled as his friend laughed softly. Rami left an hour later, citing dinner plans with Lucy. He’d invited Joe along but the ginger just shook his head as he flopped back onto the mattress. He stayed there for a few more hours, watching dejectedly as the sky changed from a delicate peach to the inky black of night. A dejected sigh escaped his mouth as he grabbed his phone, immediately unlocking it and dialling your number. Hope fluttered in his hollow chest as he listened to the rhythmic ringing through the speaker, but it quickly died as the ringing was replaced with your voicemail. “Hi, you’ve reached Y/N. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!” “It’s Joe…again” he murmured, dragging a finger along the fabric of his bedspread. “It’s been a fortnight. Just give me a call. Please” He dropped the device back onto the rumpled covers before flopping back onto his pillow. He stared up at the dark ceiling, contemplating a voyage to the kitchen when his phone pinged loudly in the silent room. Scrambling across the bed he dived for his iPhone. His heart dropped slightly when he saw that it wasn’t from you, but the message did spark a small flame of hope in his chest. Flick Stop calling and DO something

You were only half focussed on the glowing computer screen in front of you when soft knocking on the door echoed through the small office. “Y/N” It was James, one of the receptionists. He looked slightly confused, holding what appeared to be some kind of gift box, complete with a yellow ribbon holding it closed. “This was just dropped off for you” “Thanks. Just pop it down there, I’ll get to it in a minute” you replied with a smile before turning back to the spreadsheet in front of you. You tried desperately to examine the numbers in front of you – Sam had asked you to finish checking over your inventory by the end of the day and you didn’t want to disappoint him, but Joe and that goddamned fight kept swimming around and around in your fuzzy brain making it impossible to concentrate. Pushing away from your desk with a heavy sigh you decided that what you really needed was a break. Yes, five minutes would be long enough to cure you of these incessant memories of the second worst fight you’d ever had with Joe. Yep. Totally.  Crossing the small room to the bench where James had deposited the package you couldn’t help but be curious. In your 3 years at this practice you’d never once received a package (copious Amazon orders excluded).  Pulling the primrose yellow tie off you lifted the lid, only to drop it back down the second you saw what was inside. With a racing heart you tried again, flipping the top onto the bench beside the box before you could change your mind. Sitting inside on a bed of packing peanuts was a stuffed purple stegosaurus. You didn’t even need to read the note folded on top of it to know who it was from. So you left the card unread, instead picking up the soft toy, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. The fabric was velvety soft against your skin and a smile twisted your lips despite the moisture in your eyes. It was the perfect baby toy and you inhaled sharply as you realised it was also Nugget’s first. Tucking the plushie into the crook of you arm you took a steadying breath as you picked up the white card and turned it over to see very familiar black scrawl.  The note was three simple sentences. It was all Joe could handle writing. He wanted to say so much more – to explain himself better than he had in your living room that night - but he’d swallowed his pride and kept it simple. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never bring it up again. Just please don’t shut me out now.

It didn’t get any better over the next few days. Joe’s texts still went unanswered. Thankfully he’d continued to heed Flick’s warning and stayed far away from the apartment. As much as he didn’t want to hear it he knew she was right. He couldn’t pressure you into forgiving him. And there was nothing he wanted to avoid more than a repeat of that awful night. It tore at every fibre of Joe’s being to see you upset, and knowing he was the cause of it was even worse. He didn’t even leave the house, finding the idea of heading into the city utterly exhausting. Instead he found his comfort in his liquor cupboard, drinking until all he could feel was the burning in his throat and the image of your tear-stained face had faded into obscurity. “I’m coming. I’m coming” Joe groused, pulling himself off the couch to stumble to the front door. The cold floor bit at his exposed feet but it barely registered. His brain still felt like a cloud cotton wool between his ears, curtesy of far too much whisky with dinner last night.  He could see a dark figure silhouetted by the orange streetlights outside and his brow furrowed. Maybe Rami had stopped by to see if he was doing okay? Oh God, maybe you’d told his mother what he’d said and she was here to whoop his ass. But when he pulled the door open his guesses were rendered obsolete in the best way. You were standing on his stoop, face set with unrelenting determination and holding a pizza box. You nearly smiled at the look of utter shock on Joe’s face but managed to keep it at bay.  “Do you promise to never mention it again?” you asked, voice even and firm despite your quivering hands.  “Promise” he assured you immediately. His heart raced as you considered his response, those few seconds seeming to stretch into hours.  “Alright then” you nodded finally before wiggling the box in your hand. “Can I come in?” “Of course – of course” he stammered, stumbling to the side so that you could step into the entry way. The house was not the same one you’d walked into after your night out with the boys. Back then it was relatively tidy (immaculate by Joe’s usual standards) with shoes lined up in neat pairs under the jackets hung on the pegs by the front door. This time you were greeted with the remnants of what appeared to be shredded Amazon boxes and dirty clothes piled on the floorboards. “I haven’t – it hasn’t been a good few weeks” he admitted weakly when he saw your eyes narrow at the mess. Guilt attempted to settle in your stomach but you pushed it aside. After everything he’d done he didn’t deserve rapid forgiveness. “My bedroom’s pretty clean though” he added quickly, his wide hazel eyes flickering to the stairs “we can eat in there and watch a movie?”  “Normally Netflix and chill leads to a baby, not the other way around” you teased gently as you moved towards the stairs. Joe’s heart fluttered rapidly in his chest at the smile twisting your lips. Maybe all wasn’t lost.  “Well we’re anything but traditional, my dear” he joked back, his trademark cheeky grin growing on his face.  The two of you ascended the wooden staircase and while your back was turned Joe quickly whipped out his phone and typed a rapid message.

Rami I don’t think I’ve fucked it anymore!!

He was right; his bedroom was considerably tidier than downstairs but there was one distinct difference from the last time you’d visited. A pile of around 10 books were stacked up against his blue bedroom wall. While Joe busied himself getting Netflix up on the flat screen you crouched down to read the titles. A knowing smile grew on your face as you noticed a definite theme between the books. What to Expect When Your Wife is Expecting. So You’re Going to be a Dad. The Expectant Father. “Doing a little light reading, Joe?” you teased. He turned away from the black remote he was fiddling with only to blush a deep red when he saw you kneeling next to his small collection of parenting books. “Figured it was time to get serious about preparing considering the first trimesters over now” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flickered to you and every cell of his body began to glow when he saw the look of admiration on your face. “I told my mum” he blurted out, running his hand over his face nervously, “and she gave me kind of a hard time about it” “That sucks” you sighed, settling yourself against the headboard. “I mean, not really surprising. I’m still shocked my mum didn’t fly down here to give me a thorough grilling when I told her” you chuckled, wiggling until you were comfortable on the covers. “Was it really bad?” the softness in your voice surprised even you and your cheeks flashed with heat.  “Could have been worse” Joe murmured, hopping up next to you on the bed, placing the pizza between the two of you. “But she implied that I didn’t know that what we’re doing is a big deal. Got on my nerves. Hence the…research” he finished lamely, gesturing to the precarious stack of books. “Have yourself a little Elle Woods moment, did we?” you chuckled softly, flipping the lid of the pizza box open. Joe tilted his head in confusion, his hazel eyes crinkling slightly. “Elle Woods” you pressed, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a large bite. “Legally Blonde?” “Never got around to it” he shrugged, also grabbing a slice from the box. “Alright, that needs to be corrected right now” you lunged for the remote and scrolled through the icons for each movie until you found your target. “Prepare for an education, Joe” As the voice began to roll the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, only interrupted by the occasional rustle of the pizza box. While your eyes stayed fixed on the TV, the boy next to you wasn’t quite as focussed. Every now and then when a peal of laughter fell from your lips his hazel eyes would flicker to you, taking in the slope of your nose, the curve of your top lip. Everything. He didn’t need to watch the movie anyway. He’d already seen it. A/N: And that’s all for today folks! Tune in next Wednesday for more and simply message if you’d like to be added to the Tag List!

TAG LIST @sunflower-borhap-boys @blushingwueen @briarrose26 @mrsmazzello @escabell @yourealegendroger @sincereleygmg @zvzxs @dramatique-moi @borhapqueen92 @manuosorioh @deakyjohns @rogwhoretaylor @dinkiplier @hargreevesgrace @joes-milk @sam-mercurry-sixx @itsgonnabe-brian-may @ixchel-9275

[artificialqueens]

as the stars align 8/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: hollywood enemies to lovers au; 3.3k - also on ao3

As the few weeks of movie promotion unfolded, Brooke and Vanessa still hadn’t restored their relationship to what it used to be, but on a professional level they were better than ever. In every interview they were bouncing off of each other, lighting up the camera, the fans and the press already pronouncing them a dynamic duo. A video of the two of them playing Co-stars for Cash had even made the top twitter moment a couple of days, a sight which had almost given Vanessa a heart attack when she saw it.

It was fun, but it made her miss their true friendship more than ever. Since the moment they shared over her coming out, there hadn’t been a single interaction between them that wasn’t on film, or on a stage, or witnessed by outsiders.

There was only the premiere left, and awards season should they be so lucky to be nominated, and after that they’d have no reason to see each other unless they actually got their shit together and made their friendship work. It was dumb as hell to let one night get in the way of how far they’d come.

So if Brooke wasn’t going to be the first to reach out then fuck it, Vanessa would do it herself. That hoe wasn’t about to get rid of her so easily. After a few minutes of internally debating with herself, she decided to call Brooke before she lost her nerve.

“Vanessa, oh my God, is everything okay?” Brooke greeted her worriedly, thankfully picking up after only two rings.

“Yes! Yes, everything’s fine, I’m just bored, my girls are out of town. Sorry to blindside you like that babe,” Vanessa replied, trying sound as cool and platonic as possible. The ‘babe’ probably didn’t help her case there, but she let it slip out anyway.

“Yeah, off-days are weird,” Brooke laughed.

“You wanna, uh, grab a coffee or something?”

Brooke confirmed that she was down, and Vanessa hurried to make herself as presentable as possible in the short time she had. She put her dark curls up into a messy bun, applied some light makeup and decided that her favourite oversized hoodie and some tights would do.

Half an hour later, she was sat in Starbucks opposite Brooke. It had been a while since she’d seen the other woman without the professionally applied makeup and her hair done, and she looked straight up adorable in her fluffy turtleneck and jeans.

“Damn, I needed this,” Brooke said, sipping on her black coffee.

“I know. Bitch, I slept like a baby last night, but I swear I’m still exhausted after this months crazy-ass schedule. I need a nap for like, a week.”

Brooke nodded agreeably.

“Same, but I’m so restless. It’s like I don’t even know what to do with my time off.” Vanessa knew the feeling — it was hard to escape the feeling that she should be doing something, especially right now with her career reaching new heights. Every day was supposed to be a hustle.

“Well you can always hit me up, girl,” Vanessa said offhandedly with a grin. Brooke swallowed and didn’t smile back — maybe she was also thinking about the last time they spent proper, one-on-one time together — and Vanessa felt her mouth going dry. No, this was bad, very bad, no one person should have this much of an effect on her. They needed to be better at being friends.

“So, why’s the premiere happening in London anyway? Were all the LA theatres booked or somethin’?” Vanessa inquired, wanting to quell the nervous energy, even though she already knew why.

“Well, we only get one premiere. And Katya’s insisting that we all deserve a vacation away from LA.”

“Vacation is a weird word to describe five days in the UK shivering my pussy off,” Vanessa huffed. In reality, she was kind of looking forward to the trip — she had never been to Europe before, and she could see herself spending part of December living out her Love, Actually daydream.

“Don’t lie, you’re excited,” Brooke smiled. “Besides, you’ll have me there to keep you warm,” she winked.

Vanessa flushed at Brooke’s comment, perplexed as to why she was still going there after blatantly rejecting the idea of anything sexual between them only weeks ago.

Brooke kept up her flirty nature for the rest of their meeting together, and Vanessa felt like she was balancing two alter egos — the cheerful facade she was putting on for her company (which was surely unconvincing), and her spiralling inner monologue that was just trying to work Brooke out.

The mystery and iciness had been part of what had drawn Vanessa to Brooke Lynn, but right now she really wished she was more of an open book.

—

“I’ve ruined everything, Nina,” Brooke flopped onto her bed with a sigh, unable to care about the piles of clothes beneath her that were now being squashed. “I’m the dumbest person alive.”

“Trust me, I know. We share five brain cells between us, and I possess four of them,” Nina quipped unsympathetically as she attempted to organise Brooke’s packing for London.

“I’m serious you bitch. I literally can’t stop fucking up. I told myself that I’d done enough and that it’ll be a miracle if she even wants to be friends with me anymore, but then she said the sweetest words on how I shouldn’t feel pressured to come out and I swear to God…” Brooke trailed off, not wanting to divulge how she’d flirted with Vanessa in the cafe to no results. She felt like she’d promised herself, everyone she knew and their mom to keep things strictly friendship between the two of them, knowing that was all Vanessa was after, and yet —

it was as if there were small roots of hope growing inside her that just wouldn’t die, no matter how much she refused to water them, no longer allowing her mind to entertain the fantasy.

“Is this the part where you admit that you’re not over her?” Nina asked with a smirk. Brooke groaned in defeat — it wasn’t like lying to Nina or herself had gotten her anywhere thus far.

“Fine. I love her, is that what you wanna hear?” It came out like word vomit, and Brooke felt tears prick her eyes.

“My, my. The Ice Queen is thawed,” Nina pronounced ceremoniously, her faux shock exaggerated. Of course Nina would treat this as a goddamn improv exercise.

“Fuck you, Nina. I love her, I’m literally in love with her, what the fuck. Help me!”

“Aww, you can’t stop saying it. It’s pretty cute honey,” Nina giggled, plopping herself down next to Brooke on the bed. She started to rub comforting circles on Brooke’s back as Brooke’s tears began to fall.

“I’ve made such a mess.”

“Go from the start, B. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. You were always a pessimist.”

Brooke took a deep breath.

“On Halloween, when you forced us to talk, it was just… awkward. So I told her we didn’t have to discuss what happened between us, we should just leave it at that, and she agreed it was for the best, and then she looked so sad and I knew she regretted it ever happening because Lord knows what we used to have isn’t ever coming back…” Brooke burst out, feeling like a rambling, sobbing disaster of a human being. “Press was fun and we had that moment after Tatianna’s interview, and then we got coffee together and I thought things were going back to normal. And maybe they were, at least until I started flirting with her and made everything tense all over again. She’ll probably never act like that with me again, even in a friendly way, because it carries so much more weight now and she won’t want to give me the wrong idea…”

Nina handed her mug of tea, and Brooke didn’t think she’d ever been told to shut up in a more tactful way.

“Brooke, love. Have you ever thought that maybe the reason Vanessa was so upset on Halloween was because you essentially rejected her and shut her down before you guys could even properly discuss what happened and how you both feel?”

Brooke shook her head, frowning. There was no way that Vanessa actually wanted to be with her.

“Well, I think you should consider it. And you know I wouldn’t want you getting your hopes up for no reason. But it makes sense, Brooke. She was hurt by what you said but she was trying. But then you started flirting with her again, and now she’s confused.”

Brooke felt pathetic as her eyes sprung more waterfalls, competing with Niagara over which could be the most impressive tourist attraction. Both possibilities were bad — she’d either hurt Vanessa by ruining their friendship, or hurt her by breaking her heart.

“I know you find it hard to believe. But you deserve to be loved, Brooke. Vanessa would be lucky to have you.”

“I have to talk to her. For real,” Brooke said as she buried her face in tissues.

“Yes. But first, you have to pack.”

—

Brooke was going to talk to Vanessa.

But it had to be the right time. She didn’t want to contact her before London and risk everything going haywire before the premiere, so she would wait.

The days leading up to the trip were torture, and the flight to London was also a slog. Vanessa had looked strangely lonely as they’d waited in LAX, surrounded by her manager Ra’jah and the rest of their party, and Brooke wondered whether she missed Silky and A’keria. She assumed they wouldn’t be in London until later, if they were coming to the premiere at all. Perhaps Vanessa even missed Matt.

She’d sat by herself on the flight, a couple of rows in front of Brooke. Brooke had wanted to go and sit with her so badly, but with Asia to her left and Michelle to her right — locking her in conversation — it was hard to get away. When she finally slipped off to check on Vanessa, her co-star had fallen asleep, looking more soft and peaceful than Brooke had ever seen her, and Nina gave her a pitying passing glance on Brooke’s way back to her seat.

When they arrived at Heathrow airport, they were exhausted, though some of the group were still in good spirits, excited and delirious and somehow still finding things to laugh about as they whizzed through customs at a speed that Brooke had become used to after all her years of fame.

Brooke was too tired to socialise. She ushered Nina into one of the hired cars that was there to pick them up, and she definitely didn’t pick that specific one because she’d seen Vanessa get in it with Ra’jah already. And she certainly didn’t let her eyes flitter between the scenery outside her window and Vanessa, who was even prettier than the London skylines; a picture perfect view herself.

As they neared the centre of the city, Christmas lights became more and more abundant, and Brooke felt soothed as she noticed the creases and frowns in Vanessa’s face melt away.

It scared Brooke how much Vanessa’s happiness could make or break her own.

When they got to the luxury hotel they were staying in, it was gone midnight. Brooke checked her phone for the first time since landing and noticed few-hour old text from Yvie saying that her and Scarlet had made it to London— most of the cast and crew would be flying in individually, but Nina and Ra’jah had decided to work with Michelle, Asia and Katya’s plans in order to get a hotel discount. Or because they clearly thought Brooke and Vanessa’s idea of a relaxing vacation was spending five days with each other and their former bosses. Brooke didn’t particularly care to think about the reasoning right now, she just wanted to go to bed. Even though it was only four pm or so in LA, their flight had been in the early hours of the morning and she’d been unable to sleep on the plane, so she’d lost count of the hours she’d gone without rest.

“We have a slight situation,” Asia said as she walked over to the group with a grimace, the receptionist in tow.

“This is so embarrassing, and I am so sorry for any inconvenience, but it appears we have only reserved six rooms for your party instead of seven, and the rest of the hotel is fully booked for the next two nights,” the attendant said, young and clearly nervous. Brooke wondered how often he had to endure the repercussions mistakes likely made by others. She knew that the most practical option would be for two of the ‘single’ people — her, Vanessa, Nina, Ra’jah and Asia — to double up for the two nights they wouldn’t all be able to have their own rooms.

“Of course, you will be compensated for this error, and I can recommend other hotels within a walking distance if you should prefer…”

“Y’all couldn’t pay me nothin’ to go outside again tonight,” Vanessa piped up.

It was cold as hell and the more minutes they spent discussing this, the more minutes Brooke wasn’t in her bed.

“I agree, I really just wanna go to sleep,” Brooke chimed in.

“So will you two be okay to share?” Nina asked her, sounding perkier already, and Brooke would’ve sworn it was a set up if Nina hadn’t been as surprised as she was to learn of the mix-up.

“Uh, sure, if it’s okay with Vanessa,” Brooke said awkwardly. “Or you and I could room together.”

“I’m an old lady, Brooke, think of my back,” Nina spewed possibly the biggest load of bullshit Brooke had ever heard. Brooke rolled her eyes, knowing Nina was having the time of her life with this.

“Looks like we’re having a sleepover,” Vanessa confirmed, Brooke smiling cautiously in response. The receptionist apologised profusely once again and began handing out their keys —

“Nina, what the hell,” Brooke said under her breath as she stood close to the other woman.

“This could be exactly what you need, Brooke. You know you need to talk things out, you said so yourself.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to trap her into a conversation in the middle of the night in a foreign country,” Brooke hissed.

“Let’s go, roomie,” Vanessa called. Brooke sighed, as she tried to rack her brain and pinpoint the exact moment her life became such a fucking cliché.

—

Vanessa could deal with sharing a room with Brooke. She wasn’t thrilled by the idea, but it was only for two nights, and who knew whether they’d even make it to bed tomorrow with all the partying that was bound to occur after the premiere.

They each filed into the elevator, and when half the group started wheeling their cases out a couple levels up, all Vanessa could think was of course they put Brooke and I on the highest floor. All that was left was for the two of them to get stuck in the lift, alone, and to not be rescued until hours later. Vanessa held her breath the entire ride up, only letting it out when the doors closed on the floor below theirs, and Asia and Nina were still hadn’t left them.

“Now, remember Nina and I are right around the corner, and I have the hearing of a bat. So no funny business, you two,” Asia grinned cheekily. Vanessa wanted the ground to swallow her.

Brooke gave Nina a goodnight hug, and then the two of them walked silently a few doors down to their room.

Vanessa fiddled with the key card, trying to get it to work, but it was stubborn and Vanessa was faltering under Brooke’s gaze.

“I hate these damn things,” she stressed. Brooke took it from her, accidentally brushing her fingers in the process, mumbling an apology. When the light went green and the lock clicked open on her first try, Vanessa rolled her eyes in the darkness.

The room was cute — fairly spacious and mostly white with mahogany and burnt orange accents, the decor matching the warmth of the festive lights which sparkled outside their window. Vanessa had been disappointed when they’d arrived in London to the bitter cold yet none of the snow, but the shimmering river view was even more special than any kind of winter wonderland she’d conjured up in her mind.

“Fancy bath we got in there,” Brooke stated a few minutes later as she stepped out of their en suite, probably just to break the ice.

She was in a matching tank top and shorts, and Vanessa forced her eyes to stay on her face as much as they wanted to drift over Brooke’s long legs and soft cleavage.

“You sayin’ I smell or are you offering?” Vanessa deadpanned. In her hazy state of mind, she decided two could play at the game Brooke had started.

Because that was all Vanessa was to Brooke. A game.

Brooke wanted to tease and flirt and play with her, but she didn’t want her.

“Ha, you wish,” Brooke replied coolly, her voice slightly stilted. Apparently the day’s travels and the night’s hotel shenanigans had left the both of them tense. “Just letting you know it’s there, if you’re interested —”

“Well, it should put that on it’s dating profile,” Vanessa joked, feeling victorious when Brooke chuckled softly in response. “But for real girl, I’m beat, so unless you wanna be dragging my drowned corpse out tomorrow morning…”

“And get the bed to myself tonight? I’ll take it,” Brooke smiled.

“Bitch. If this is the last time y’all see me alive, it’s on you,” Vanessa stuck out her tongue, heading into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

When she returned, Brooke had already closed the curtains and snuggled herself under the covers, her face lit up only by the light of her phone screen and the dull glow of Vanessa’s lamp.

“Hey,” Vanessa said quietly.

“She lives.”

The bed was big, much bigger than Vanessa’s double in her own apartment, and she climbed in the opposite side to Brooke, her heart physically aching at how content she felt lying beside her.

How right it felt, despite the last time they were in a hotel room together being under such different circumstances.

Even the roars and sirens of the bustling outdoor streets were unusually comforting.

“Vanessa?”

Brooke’s tone was questioning, and so faint Vanessa almost missed it.

“Yeah?” Vanessa whispered.

Brooke took so long to reply, Vanessa wasn’t sure whether she’d heard her either, or if she was even still awake.

“I…”

“Are you okay?” — worry was growing in Vanessa’s stomach and she wanted so badly to reach her hand across the distance between them.

“I just… I miss you. I’m sorry, I’m being dumb, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Brooke spoke so sadly and Vanessa knew she was crying even without seeing her face.

She’d been rejected, flirted with and now missed by this woman all in the space of a few weeks and the rational part of her brain was telling her that Brooke was just tired, she was in an unfamiliar place away from home and she would break Vanessa’s heart even worse if she made promises tonight that she couldn’t keep tomorrow.

Still, her hand searched for Brooke’s anyway, intertwining their fingers as their bodies stayed separate, her other thumb feeling Brooke’s cheek out and wiping away her tears.

“Let’s not talk about this tonight, okay? But I swear we will. And you know I ain’t a liar,” Vanessa vowed. She felt Brooke nod into her hand.

“Goodnight, Vanessa,” Brooke sighed as Vanessa turned her back to her, but shuffled closer, letting Brooke’s arm drape over her body.

“Goodnight Brooke.”

[charmingturkeysandwich]

Lost by Choice

Welp, this is the Naked and Afraid AU that absolutely no one in the world asked for. I’m trying to get back into writing, and last weekend I watched a lot of Naked & Afraid (I usually watch Investigation Discovery, but was exhausted with murder), and I just couldn’t stop seeing an AU opportunity. I don’t know. Maybe someone out there will appreciate? 

Part 1 of 2 Rating: Teen (swearing) Word Count: 2200ish

AO3

In retrospect, a televised challenge with a little less dehydration and mosquito bites would have been a smarter choice. Maybe one that didn't involve literal hunting for food and water. But Killian Jones was always one for a challenge. He was a survivor. He had already lived through a thousand different hells (hyperbole); he could live through this one, too. Except he hadn't slept in 3 days, hadn't had clean water (aside from opening his mouth in the rain) in the same amount of time. Oh, and he was slightly in love with his very naked partner who very much despised him.

Yeah, Killian being a survivor and all, he should have chosen to audition for that show. Not Naked and fucking Afraid. 

But noooo he'd been determined to prove himself. And to whom? He didn't have anyone around anymore to impress. Liam was dead. Milah was dead. Bae made it perfectly clear Killian should consider him dead. He'd lost everyone and everything and apparently the long-lost emo kid inside him decided he needed to take that metaphor and make it literal and audition for a show where he was cold and he was ashamed, lying broken on the floor.

Wait, no, that wasn't it.

(The delirium had set in.)

Surviving in the worst of conditions had drawn him to this particular (idiotic) challenge, but there was something, too, in the partnership aspect. Being paired with only one other person, just as stranded as you, to finish out the task... maybe it was his complete loneliness or, again, the part of him who couldn't resist a challenge, but it intrigued him. How do you put all of your individual experiences together to form a bond, a team, that would keep them alive for 21 days without another soul?

Then he was paired with Emma fucking Swan.

Let it be known: Killian wasn't a creeper. He didn't pick this show so he could stare at some tits for 21 days. The naked part was entirely about being stripped of all comfort and all help. Nothing sexual about it, you wankers. But he'd have to have been blind to not see how goddamn gorgeous this woman was. Toned, lean, yet soft. An innocence about her, but a regal kind of confidence all the same. She was like a Disney Princess and a intergalactic thief all in one. So perhaps his cock twitched just a bit upon meeting her, but he's a fucking gentleman and he could keep it in his damn pants.

(If he'd had pants.)

This was his tactical partner, and nothing more.

They didn't exactly hit it off, but their skills were nothing to scoff at. Killian's past in the Royal Navy, his service abroad, and his extensive knowledge of tropical vegetation made for a great foundation for survival. As for Emma, she was the scrappy one. She was an improviser, a problem-solver, and a bold woman who'd lived without a home for many years. A fact that, quite simply, made Killian sad. He might not have his home anymore, but at least he'd had one. Once upon a time.

But Emma wasn't a fan of his feelings, it seemed.

"Wipe the pity off your face, Jones. I'm fine. I survived. And I'm going to survive now, with or without you." For the first time, Emma awkwardly crossed her arms over her breasts, as if to maintain modesty, and full-on scowled at him. They hadn't been what you'd call friendly yet, but they didn't exactly know each other yet, either. Of course they'd have to ease into it.But it seemed Emma wanted to just ease right back out and jump into hostile territory.

She was skilled as hell. Quite the badass, in fact. When Killian identified the best place for a shelter, she immediately laid out the plan to build it. And then just... did it. He looked at the map and figured out the best place to get freshwater, and as soon as he set out to gather it, she lit the fire. That first day they were productive as hell and those 21 days were looking like a cake walk.

And then there was the nearby hurricane. That first night, about an hour after sunset, the rain began. 

And it never. Fucking. Stopped.

It was freezing, way too cold to sleep. And when he suggested to Emma that maybe they huddle for warmth, she shot razor blades out her (beautiful) eyes at him. "I'm not looking to bed you, Swan, we're just trying to survive here. Princess might need to accept that despite her beauty not every man is looking to fuck her," he'd snapped around 3am, the wind whipping so strongly he was sure their roof was going to fail at any moment.

"Princess? I've been working my ass off here and definitely pulling my weight. Don't act like I'm some spoiled bitch who just came here looking for a strong man to protect me. Nobody saves me but me, OK? And if I don't want you to touch me, you fucking won't."

There was probably a story there, probably something about as tragic as her having lived without a home, but he wasn't going to touch it. There was no benefit to aggravating her further. They had the skills for this. They made a good team, even if she didn't quite see it yet. And he could shove down all attraction for the sake of survival. He would be fine.

(What he wouldn't give for a rice allowance and a reward challenge. Damn him for not sending that tape to CBS instead of Discovery)

The next two days were more of the same. Emma's fire had long been extinguished by the rain and they'd yet to locate anywhere dry enough to attempt to build a new one. The wind was constant and kept changing directions, so even the portions of the jungle with the most canopy were still drenched. The freshwater Killian had found was muddy as hell and couldn't be drunk before boiling it - and with no fire, they had no means to boil.And food - well, they were running on probably 120 calories between them across the 3 days.

Their dynamic was, frankly, exhausting. They'd be cooperating just fine, talking strategy or accident prevention (it was business, all business), and then he'd offer to do just one too many things and she'd shut down. The fact that her walls seemed to attract him more was... problematic. And annoying. He needed one blasted healthy relationship in his miserable life. This woman, though stunning in every way, clearly had baggage so massive she needed a 757 all to herself and yet all he could think was how he wanted to be her pilot. ("I'd fly the fucking plane myself, Jones," she would probably say. If she were in his head. Was she? Is she? Was he talking out loud by accident?)

He was tired and though the rain had stopped for a while, the mosquitoes had sure as hell started and he was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been in his entire life - and he'd stood at a funeral between his (dead) lover and her husband/murderer, half covered in poison ivy from the previous week's (ultimately "successful") search for her.

(No, he shouldn't have chosen Survivor instead. He should have chosen staying the fuck home and watching these complete wankers on the goddamn telly.)

(The British was strong when he was pissed.)

(God, a pint would be nice right about now.)

The lack of sleep, the bug bites, the constant war with his partner, it got to him. It broke him. He snapped. Those were the easy ways of describing the tirade that began that afternoon after her shutting him out once again.

"Why the hell are you even here, Swan? Have you not seen this fucking show before? One man. And one woman. Together. This wasn't a survive on your own thing. Ever! You knew from the start you were going to have to interact with another human. Of which you seem utterly incapable! This place is hell but it would be 100% better for me if you weren't fucking here!"

Emma sat, seemingly gobsmacked, still curled with her knees at her chest, sitting upright against their shelter. But it didn't take long before the fire almost literally shot from her eyes.

"Absolutely agreed! This place would be much better if I weren't stuck with you. I was hoping that I'd be given a partner who didn't know what he was doing and tapped out in a few days so I could just do this thing alone. But. There's nothing to say I still can't." At that, she stood, grabbing her satchel and awkwardly playing with the mic pack around her neck. "If you could just hand me the map, I'll get out of your hair and I'll see you again for extraction in a few weeks, kay?"

Mmmkay, maybe he was rethinking that whole "falling in love with her" thing. Because right now he mostly wanted to set her on fire.

"Seriously, Swan? You're running away?"

"I've been reliably told it's what I do best."

With one last glare, Emma turned away from him, snagging the map and studying it just a moment before trudging off East.

---

Of all the stupid ass ideas she's had in her life, this one had to be the dumbest. She doesn't like relying on anyone else. Or being forced to be around someone else. So why in the name of hell would she sign up for a TV show where she was stuck with one person 24/7 for three fucking weeks?

And, oh, god, the people at home who would watch this. Of course it would be edited to make her look even crazier than she objectively was being. And Killian would look like the hero, AKA the exact opposite of what she wanted. She'd come here to prove that she could survive when you took everything away. Everything.

No weapons... no friends... no hope. Take all that away and what's left? 

Me.

Oh, god. Was she hallucinating Buffy scenes? And not even positive ones. Sure, Buffy kicked some ass after that, but then she lost... everything.

Emma's whole life had been lost. Why did she think she needed any more?Because Lost Girls end up in the jungle of Neverland. Apparently.

And pushing away a dude who has done nothing but try to do like the show is meant for an survive as a team? Downright idiotic. But she's backed herself into a bit of a corner now, storming off like that. And there's a reason they say Pride is the deadliest sin. It makes you do the dumbest shit, and - worst of all - to stick to it like burrs on a sheepdog. So she found a little hill away from the storm runoff and she built a shabby little shelter (too exhausted for the expert work of the first shelter, which, by the way, had mostly withstood the storm to this point, thank you very much). She failed to start a fire, which wasn't surprising, and the rain started up again before sunset, so she curled up on her "bed" of fronds and dreamed of chewing down a heart of palm or a snake or really anything at this point because fantasizing about grilled cheese and onion rings might actually be the one that would inspire her to tap out and run. 

For a few hours she faded in and out of sleep, disturbed by noise and pain and the shame of having treated Killian the way that she did. And had been this whole time. It wasn't his fault he was so damn attractive. It wasn't his fault that he was making her feel things she promised herself she would never again let herself feel. If only it was his toned abs and quite frankly impressive cock that had scrambled her brain the first day they met. No, the nudity wasn't really even a factor, since, you know, she kind of knew it was part of the deal. But she'd been expected an asshole. Or an idiot. Or someone that was just so platonic that they might as well have been a woman. Or a lamp. 

But he was kind and funny and caring and she just knew he had a backstory that could rival hers because faces like that - and bodies like that - absolutely did not build good character when adversity never struck. Nope, that man has suffered.

With all that suffering between them, how they hell did they end up - voluntarily - stranded in a jungle?

(We accept the love we think we deserve.)

Ugh. Now she was haunted by Pinterest memes. 

Protein. She needed some protein, like, now.

When the sun came up, her sole focus was on nutrition. She needed something to eat. Her emotions were running too high and emotional calories were definitely more draining than physical calories. Or something. How had all of her survival research and training just fall out of her head by Day 2? 

Because your brain needs sleep and nutrients to properly process and recall information.

(See, some of it hadn't left.)

Apparently her sense of balance had left, though, because without warning her ankle rolled to the side and Emma slid off the tree she'd been climbing and her body hit every limb on its way back to Earth. 

Well, shit, was the last thing she thought before she smacked into the rock below her, the warmth cascading down her torso the last feeling she had before her eyes slid shut.

[harryandmolly]

Cuttlefish - (a LTBOMH deleted scene)

A/N: A little monday morning fluff for all you motherfluffers. I have issues letting go of things so... here’s Shawn and Lilly again (I imagine this fitting somewhere within chapter 6, FYI). ALSO CONVENIENTLY coincides with a 1200 follower celebration, I LOVE YOU GUYS <3

Summary: A nap date and a really stupid nickname.

Warnings: Language, domesticity

Word count: a respectable 2.1k

“Hi, you landed?” Lilly mumbles into her pillow. The yawned words distorted by a pillowcase would be impossible for anyone but him to decipher.

He’s lifting his bag off the luggage carousel with his free hand and nodding when he remembers she can’t see him. “Mm, yeah, about 10 minutes ago. I’m getting my bag now.”

“Good flight?” She rolls over off her stomach so he might be able to hear her better.

“Good enough. We didn’t die.”

She snorts. “That’s the spirit. You going straight home?”

He’s nodding again, silent for a beat too long. He has to blink hard to keep his eyes open. “Mmhmm. Bed. Sleep. Nap. Now.”

Lilly frowns. She knows they agreed they wouldn’t see each other today. She has just come off a 12-hour day on set that became a 16-hour day on set when absolutely everything went wrong. Now she knows why everyone in Hollywood says never work with kids and horses.

He’s been in New York for two and a half days and has been awake for the last 22 and a half hours of it. It was better, they both knew, to hook up later when they weren’t both zombies and could enjoy each other’s company.

“Hey, I know we said we wouldn’t try to see each other today but I personally feel that if you get in a Lyft and come nap with me, you’ll be a much happier boy.”

Her voice is run-down from a night spent muttering into a walkie-talkie and it’s fucking music to his ears. He loves that she wants to see him if only to dream next to each other. He grins goofily into the phone as he stumbles behind his team to the cars waiting for them at arrivals.

“That sounds nice, baby. Can I shower at your place?”

“Mmm,” she mumbles in assent, closing her eyes and rubbing her nose into Olaf’s dingy white fur.

He hangs up and tells Andrew he’ll take a Lyft to Burbank. When he arrives, he hauls his luggage up the steps to her private entrance and opens the door without knocking. She’s curled up in a ball on top of her yellow duvet with the curtains drawn and lights off, TV glowing a second season Gilmore Girls episode she’s seen about 104 times. She smiles sleepily at him in the dim light.

He drops his backpack by the door and bumps into her coffee table, swearing as he almost tumbles onto her bed. He steps away from the offending furniture gingerly, giving it a look. He turns his focus to her and feels his whole body relax at the sight of her in her big plaid shirt and her little pink panties waiting for him, barely able to keep her eyes open. He flops onto the bed, partially on top of her legs.

Lilly snickers at him, clumsy as ever, as he falls on top of her. She scoots down to curl around his head until they sort of resemble a weird, lop-sided yin and yang symbol. He lifts her warm little hand off the sheets and brings it to his lips, keeping his eyes on hers as he kisses her knuckles the way he always does when he’s been gone a few days.

“Baby,” she coos. There’s no follow-up thought, no words to accompany it, just the pet name says enough. He blinks his eyes open and decides it’s been too long since he felt her breath so he unfurls himself around her and rearranges her beneath him so his knees bracket her legs and he’s hovering over her, watching her chest rise and fall. Her skin is pale and peeking out of her shirt. He wants to drag his lips and teeth over the spot until it’s not pale anymore at all.

But he’s so fucking tired.

She stares up at him, tracing the edges of his lips, the slant of his nose, the circles under his eyes. She threads her fingers back into his hair and pulls him down for a kiss.

It’s warm and lazy and perfect, just like she feels. When he pulls away to prop himself up on his knees between her thighs, he tucks his hands under her knee caps and strokes his hands down over her calves, just looking down and admiring her. His eyebrows lift when he watches her face contort with pleasure.

“Oh my god, yes,” she moans, arching her back as his rough fingers rake over her two-day-old stubble. Her hand reaches out and grips Olaf hard. She looks up at him through hooded eyes.

“Lilly, what the—”

“My calves are so sore,” she whines through an embarrassed chuckle. She goes pink thinking about the noise she just made and turns her face into a pillow to hide from him as he snickers at her.

“I’ve never heard you make that noise without my face between your thighs,” he says, amused and smirking. She rolls her eyes.

“I did Blogilates yesterday before I left for set which was, by the way, the dumbest idea ever. She had us do calf raises for like, 10 minutes. I can barely walk up a set of stairs,” Lilly grumbles, closing her thighs against him encouragingly, jutting her chin at him to suggest he continue.

Shawn lowers to sit on his feet and spreads her legs, wrapping his broad palms and wiry fingers almost all the way around her calf muscles. He runs his hands up and down gently at first, feeling her out without exerting pressure. She watches him with a quiet smile. He’s looking down at her legs, marveling at how solid and good she feels in his hands. He glances up and blushes under her gaze. He squeezes his grip around her ankles affectionately and pulls his hands back up toward her knees, kneading smoothly as he goes.

Her head falls back and her eyes shut. She moans again, giggling at herself. He’s strategic about it, rhythmic even in the way he massages her legs. She loves it. He spreads his fingers wider and bears down a little harder. He’s entranced by the sounds she’s making and seeks them out.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good,” she sighs. He laughs again. She opens her bleary eyes to see him pink-cheeked and staring at her.

“You’re turning me on a little,” he admits with a shrug, smiling shyly like he’s not sure if it’s ok to say out loud. Her stomach flips. She sits up and slides her legs out of his grip to wrap them around his waist and tug him against her.

“I missed you,” she tells him, propped up on tented fingers with her legs latched around his waist like she’s afraid he’ll leave if she lets him go. He cups her cheeks in those big, beautiful hands and brings his lips down so gently she barely feels it.

“You just missed my hands,” he teases, pecking her lower lip and pulling away, unwrapping himself from her legs reluctantly. She curls up without him, watching as he digs through his bag for a change of clothes. He grabs her spare towel and points up the stairs.

“Roommates home?”

She shrugs. “Probably a couple. Think Emily’s upstairs watching Gossip Girl. Avoid her if you don’t want a speech about Chuck Bass being an indefensible character from the pilot episode,” she advises.

He nods solemnly and disappears. Fifteen minutes later, he’s slouching back into her room, ditching the t-shirt and sweatpants he’s just changed into for the walk back downstairs from the bathroom. She smiles into her pillow, pleased he’s not starting down the path of complaining about how hot her room always is. He’s too tired.

In Under Armour boxer briefs, he crawls over her on the bed and starfishes, spreading his limbs and laying all his weight on her, snuffling into her hair. She grunts and shifts under him, playing along because she doesn’t mind how heavy he is. At least he’s here. She kisses his neck as he burrows his face into her pillow.

She splits into a cheesy grin against his shoulder. He feels her teeth against his skin and lifts his head, looking dozy and confused. “What?”

“You smell like me,” she laughs, lifting her nose to his hair. Strawberries and mint, just like hers. It’s delightful.

“I like smelling like you,” he whispers, too exhausted to be self-conscious. She fastens a hand into his curls and wraps an arm across his warm, still damp back, rolling him off her to his side. He takes the hint and adjusts them so he’s on his back and her head is tucked in against his shoulder, their legs tangled on top of the sheets. He runs his fingers through her hair all the way down her back until she falls asleep. He follows soon after.

Almost two hours later, Shawn blinks awake. They’re in exactly the same spot they fell asleep in, frozen in time. He cracks his neck and shifts her away just long enough to lift and turn her onto her side and cuddle up against her back. The jostling wakes her up, which wasn’t exactly an accident on his part. He misses her.

“Hey,” she murmurs, voice crackly with sleep. She lifts a hand to pat the arm he’s slung around her body and scoots back a little more firmly against his chest. She likes feeling surrounded by him.

“Mmm, my little cuttlefish.”

Lilly’s eyes open. Shawn enjoys teasing her with weird nicknames. As long as he doesn’t use them while they’re having sex, she doesn’t mind. But this one is weirder than usual.

“Did you just call me a cuttlefish?”

“Yep,” he mutters into her neck, rubbing his nose against the downy hairs at the nape.

“Have you ever seen a cuttlefish?”

“No. Is it cuddly?”

Lilly bursts into giggles. “You are so fucking cute. Cuttlefish are terrifying. They’re cephalopods. They look like freaky squids.”

“Not cuddly,” he murmurs, voice muffled, “Should change the name, then.”

She closes her eyes, unwilling to continue this bizarre line of conversation. She settles back into him, wondering if she’ll drift off again.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

She turns over to see what he’s yelping about. He’s staring wide-eyed at his phone, eyebrows pulled together, looking horrified.

“I just googled cuttlefish! This thing is gross! It doesn’t look like a fish at all!” He flips the phone around to show her. She squints at the screen before she takes his phone away and puts it on the night table.

“No cuttlefish in bed. New rule.”

Shawn smiles and pulls her in by her hips. “Any other bedroom rules I should know about?” He runs his lips along her hairline as she plants kisses down his jaw.

“You have to kiss me when we wake up together even if we have morning breath,” she whispers into the skin below his ear. He smells even more like her now that he’s been lying in her bed. It’s getting her a little carnal and territorial. His hands come to rest on her lower back under her shirt as she mouths at him.

“Ok,” he breathes, sounding a little worked up himself. He nudges her legs apart to slide one of his between them. He pulls her so she’s lying underneath him again, enclosed in him like she likes.

“Anything else?” he pants.

“Yeah. Nap dates are now part of the regular routine, mmk?”

Shawn lowers himself carefully around her until he’s flat against her torso and his nose is brushing against hers. “I love nap dates. All of our dates should be nap dates.”

“But what about movie dates? And sushi dates? And beach dates and pool dates? And ice skating dates? And—”

He plants his lips against hers firmly, laughing into her mouth. She grins back and their teeth clash but they don’t care.

“Any kind of dates you want, sweetheart.”

They make out like teenagers for a while, copping feels and moaning, whispering conversations about nothing before they’re both exhausted again. This time, she slots up against his back and holds him against her chest because she knows he likes to be the little spoon sometimes but never wants to ask.

He’s wriggling as he searches for sleep. She’s desperately trying to ignore his restlessness.

“Lilly, it’s always so hot in your room, goddamnit.”

She rolls her eyes and buries her face in his back, kicking feebly at his legs, trying to pin him down to submit to her.

“Stop moving or I’ll get the cuttlefish.”

He giggles and complies. They fall asleep again and dream of anything but cephalopods.

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia  @abigfatmess @heavenly—holland 

[leviticus101st]

Heroes in Crisis Critique

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13409994/1/Heroes-in-Crisis-Critique

I wrote a critique on the garbage Event Comic Heroes in Crisis. I wanted to post my critiques here.

Ch.1 

Let’s just jump to the basic story issues.

1: The Pacing

The storyline was originally supposed to be five issues and it got stretched out to nine issues. It should have stayed at five, probably less than that.

Out of those nine issues, only three of them actually matter to the plot. Issues 1, 8, and 9 are the only issues where the murder mystery plot goes forwards. (I feel like I’m being generous with issue 8, because that one just reveals that it was Wally who did it and that Booster cloned him…..I don’t know how he did that, but he did it.)

All the other issues? You can just skip them. They mean nothing, kinda like this story in general now that I think about it.

2: The Artwork

Much like RWBY with it’s animation, this is one I’m sure some people will disagree with me on.

The artwork for HiC was done by Clay Mann and it’s highly moody and detailed. The problem with it is how the women are drawn.

I briefly went over this in my ‘If Dragon Ball was a comic book’ story, but comic books have a problem with making women look as skimpy as possible. That is especially evident here.

The women’s outfits (Except for Wonder Womans.) look like they’re squeezing into every crevice of their bodies. Batgirl’s costume is especially bad in that regard. (Her confessional has her showing her skin. To be fair, she was letting out how the Joker shot affected her, but that’s not much.) Other than the women’s tight outfits, the artwork is pretty good.

3: The Mystery itself

HiC is a mystery story, but you could be forgiven for thinking it was trying to be a buddy cop movie. This is part of the pacing issue. While the plot will advance eventually, the mystery is not what does it. It’s just wacky circumstance. A good mystery story gives both the heroes and the audience the clues as the story progresses. Leading the hero to the most logical conclusion and the audience can have fun trying to put the pieces together.

HiC does not do that. As I said, most of the issues don’t push the plot and we don’t get clues to the fact that Wally West is the killer.

The reveal of Wally West being the killer ruined any chance of this story being taken seriously. There was NOTHING foreshadowing it and the one clue that was found doesn’t match up with it.

They say Batman couldn’t identify the wounds on the corpses because they were inflicted post mortem. Post mortem wounds are easy to identify because those wounds don’t bleed. This is ignoring actual facts!

4: Shock Value

Lots of good characters are dead by the first issue. This ruins any illusion of tension. Moving on.

5: Character Assassination.

I’ll get into specifics a later chapter, but everyone in this story acts nothing like the characters they’re supposed to be.

7: Wally West’s plan

Step one was to mail Lois Lane tapes that has tons of personal information of other people to upload.

Step two was to use the Speed Force to resurrect Poison Ivy.

Step three is to place himself from somewhere in time where everyone he accidently  killed everyone.

Step four was to kill himself.

It feels like a spiritual successor to Identity Crisis alright. Accidental murderer with the dumbest scheme and dumb retcons along for the ride.

These problems are pretty bad, but if it weren’t for what I’mma talk about next chapter, I would just think it was bad.

Ch. 2

(Disclaimer: This will be a very angry analysis. This issue spikes a lot of anger in me. So this will have a lot of anger and swearing.)

Mental health is important. I’m not going to lie about that. People go through their struggles in life and they have their own issues to go through.

That is the reason that this story exists. Hell the title itself, Heroes in Crisis, is reflective of that. It’s Tom King saying that heroes have their own struggles and that they should get help for it.

If I could ask Tom King one question. Just one. It would be this. 

HOW THE FUCK DO YOU MISS THE POINT THIS BADLY?!

This story does an atrocious job of portraying mental health. To understand what I mean, allow me to discuss what Sanctuary does for its patients.

In my story, I went out of my way to show therapists in the story to show that the heroes were getting real help. That is not how the actual comic does it.

The AI in the story I showed briefly to make sure everything was okay? In the comics, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman created it using their best personality traits to help the heroes. 

If that AI was made of their best traits, I’d hate to see their worst. The AI? It insults the patients of the Sanctuary, constantly belittling them for not ‘getting over’ their traumas and pain.

Any actual therapists will tell you that is a very terrible idea. I know WHAT King was going for, tough love, but that is not how you’re supposed to do it. You’re supposed to be supportive of the patient, let them ease into their treatment. YOU DON’T INSULT PEOPLE AND TELL THEM TO GET OVER THEIR TRAUMAS! It’s wrong!

I wish that was all I could talk about with this, but there is so much more stupid shit in this regard.

You see the AI’s treatment for the patients is to force them to relive their most traumatic moment. 

Do I need to explain why that is the dumbest fucking thing for a therapist to do? I feel like it would be an insult to you guys if I explained how fucking stupid that is.

YOU DON’T JUST FORCE PEOPLE TO RELIVE THEIR TRAUMATIC MOMENTS! ‘I have an idea! Let’s make our patients go through the very thing that caused them to need us!’

You can’t even make the argument that it’s a form of Immersion Therapy, because you don’t just throw the thing that causes a person's traumas in their faces! Let’s do an example real quick. Let’s say you’re treating someone who was traumatized by their abusive parents, then you invite the parents. Needless to say, it won’t end very well.

There’s another big problem in the mental health aspect. The other treatment.

Another thing the heroes do in the Sanctuary is a confessional booth, where the heroes confess their problems to a camera. One big problem with this.

People don’t just confess their troubles like that unless it’s urgent and it’s usually to another person. They don’t just speak out their traumas to a camera. It requires a lot of probing by the therapists. What’s sad is that problem is the least terrible about that, but it does lead to another massive issue.

A big plot point is that Lois Lane got some tapes from Wally. Lois being a very kind soul respects the privacy of the heroes and-NAH! She uploads them to the Daily Bugle.

You do not do that! Uploading someone else’s private information like that without their consent is wrong. Especially here, where they’re superheroes with secret identities. They’re loved ones are now in danger because of this.

It’s even a plot hole. They state that the tapes will be destroyed after they’re made (Let’s ignore how pointless that is and how some therapists keep tapes for future reference. Why would you record it if you were just going to get rid of it afterwards?) and Wally got the tapes that were destroyed somehow. I don’t get it either.

That’s all those issues from the actual story, but now let’s talk about a little something King himself said in regards to the killing at the Sanctuary. He stated that the killing was supposed to reflect school shootings.

For the sake of fairness, I know what he means. He’s referring to the tragedy itself. 

Now to piss on fairness, because seriously, what the actual fuck?! First of all, Wally killing the heroes WAS AN ACCIDENT! Mass shootings are never accidents, they take someone holding a gun to a school and willfully opening fire.

Secondly, it’s highly distasteful to pull that shit for this story. Especially now, when there are so many mass shootings in the US. 

Third, there’s a bullshit assumption that mass shootings are caused by the mentally disabled. The truth of the matter is that mass shooters are either self entitled assholes, racists monsters, or both. So this comparison is total shit and completely harmful in this age of mass shootings and attention to mental health problems.

Fourth, and this one is one that many people have pointed out, it’s really dickish to say that you’re going to die or become a mass shooter because you’re metnally disabled or someone trying to get help for your problems.

Lastly. If this story was about mental health, the issues people face because of mass shooting misblamed, then this would be the most relevant and important comic of our age. But it's not! It’s a poorly put together mystery story that barely touches on mental health. 

And you want to know the most fucked up thing about all of these things I’ve discussed?

All of the horrible things I’ve talked about or portrayed as good in the story. Uploading someone’s private info, torturing them with their own traumas, and not doing any real work to help the mentally unwell. It’s portrayed as the right thing in the story. I can’t begin to think about how this hurts people who actively seek or attend therapy.

What was King thinking?! And before you say the editors and executives messed him up, Tom King himself has openly admitted that the only thing he didn’t decide on was what characters would be the focus of the story. Everything else? All him. This is how he thinks mental health should be handled.

I’m frankly very disgusted with this story and I pray to God that nothing like it ever happens again.

Take care of yourselves. 

https://www.mentalhealth.gov/get-help/immediate-help

Ch. 3

I wanted to use this last chapter to give my final thoughts and a chance to talk about things I haven’t had a chance to talk about.

Overall, HiC is terrible. Character work on the whole is terrible. The pacing is absolutely atrocious. And it’s just a distasteful mess.

One thing that always baffles me is the choice of characters for the story. Booster Gold, Harley Quinn, Batgirl, and Blue Beetle. These characters have nothing to do with mental health, so why have them? Harley is the closest to that, but she got over the Joker long ago.

The comic also suffers from the humor. It’s terrible and does not fit with the comic’s tone.

The story relies on retcons to a character’s history. Roy Harper is the best example. Roy got on drugs because of his depression and parental neglect, not injuries. I don’t know if that fits with his New 52 and Rebirth characterization.

One scene that captures the sheer stupidity of the comic is the scene where Harley Quinn(Who I feel the need to stress is a normal person with a baseball bat.) is able to single handedly fight off the Trinity. I’m dead serious.

Another Harley Quinn scene that is terrible is the one where she attacks Booster Gold while Batgirl and the Ted Kord Blue Beetle (BOOSTER GOLD’S BEST FRIEND!) watch as the crazy lady with a murder history attacks the good guy who’s been friends with them for years. Ted Kord says that he’s projecting a forcefield to protect Booster, so Batgirl (Who is part of the Batfamily who don’t kill unless necessary.) knocks him out to disable it and the whole thing is a joke. Lol look at that crazy lady try to kill the superhero.

Incase the last two paragraphs didn’t make it clear, I’m not a big fan of Harley.

First reason is that I find  her annoying. She just yammers on and on and it distracts from the story.

Second, she’s a mass murderer who gets off easy because she wanted to impress the wrong guy. I know it was abusive, but she still choose to kill people and smiled about it.

Third and this one is kind of petty, but it kind of annoys me that there are so many sympathetic and kind villains who deserve redemption and a happy ending WAY more than she does and they don’t get it. She gets off easily because she was in an abusive relationship, even though there are other villains who have been abused and they don’t get redemption or a ‘Worth so much more than you think’ speech. She wasn’t hypnotised or converted against her will to be evil, she didn’t grow up with parents who gave her a twisted perception of the world, she didn’t grow up in an abusive household to make her snap, her life was fairly good until the Joker came along. Hell, you can’t even make the argument that the Joker made her crazy. All he did was spout some obvious bullshit and she fell for it.

I’m sorry that I went off on that tangent. It just makes me made that so many other villains deserve a happy ending and don’t get it, but Quinn, who I feel the need to stress has a body count, gets one. Yeah.

Let’s talk about Booster for a bit. Booster Gold doesn’t have psychological issues, so he’s out of place here. I’ve read some of the stuff that built up to this and it doesn’t give the impression he got some, just that he’s kind of an idiot. (Also, couldn’t he have just time traveled to stop all of this or find something out?)

Wally being the killer was a terrible decision. He just came back and he’s made into a villain. For some reason, DC doesn’t let him be happy. (Again, favoring the psychopath who murdered lots of people have a happy ending.) They hate him for SOME reason, though nobody can figure out why. He’s brought back just to suffer in this crapfeast.

Another problem with Wally here is how out of character he is. Wally has shown to be one of the nicest guys in the entire DC Universe and he pulls the crap he does here. As I said, him killing the heroes was an accident. He puts together a plan to make up for it, that requires him to have computer skills he’s never been established to have.

The act that made him kill the heroes was a mental trigger of his family. (We’ll ignore the fact that that’s not how the Speedforce works.) He spent five days getting tapes to Lois (Guess being as fast as a dude who can outrun an instantaneous teleporter makes it hard to be a delivery boy.), teams up with a past/future version of himself, and then tries to kill himself. (For those of you who didn’t get my Identity Crisis joke, Jean had a smiliar stupid plan for a stupid reason.)

Oh and after the heroes talk him down from killing himself, Harley knees him in the nads. (The mass killer gets a happier ending than the guy who wants his family back.)

The Trinity are morons in this story, they don’t do anything that a smart person would do, can’t tell when a person dies of electric shocks or when wounds are afflicted after a person dies, and get curb stomped to make Harly Quinn look good.

Let’s just finish this. This story just sucks. The only redeeming thing about it is the artwork, even then, the females are drawn like they’re weird aliens who want to conquer us all.

This story is a pathetic, distasteful, harmful piece of shit. I don’t want to say ‘I hope everyone forgets it’ because we need to know just how garbage this kind of thing is. We need to know just how wrong something can be.

Take care of yourselves everyone. If you need help, go find some real help. Whatever you find will be better than HiC will ever do for you.