#everyone whose ever hurt a child is on my most hated list at the top without a doubt

[urbestestwindgod]

(tw discussion of a myth abt rape n child murder)

the story of tereus, procne, and philomela is a WILD ride bc i was rlly rooting for those ladies like yes! get tereus’ ass!! kill him!! and like woah procne is such a good sister ABD THEN SHE KILLS HER SON ANS FEEDS HIM TO TEREUS AND NEVERMIND I HATE YOU ALL AND ALL THREE OF YOU CAN ROT IN TARTARUS WTF HE WAS LITERALLY JUSTR A LITTLE BOY :( itys GET BEHIND ME. im gonna be honest guys i hate medea for the same reason like yea your myth sucked i feel bad BUT YOU DIDNT HAVE TO KILL YOUR BABIES?? :(

I FELT SO BAD FOR PHILOMELA AND PROCNE…and then she killed her little son…and suddenly…i dont, huh

[jensungf]

𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄? ฅ 𝐥.𝐣𝐧

summary: your mother always told you a lot as a child — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens in dark allies on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover. you didn’t always listen to her. yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. and maybe lee jeno as well. 

pairing: shy!reader + badboy!lee jeno genre: high school!au, fluff<3 word count: 1.8k warnings: language, mentions of disease

author’s note: another one of my blurbs that accidentally turned into a really long drabble hehe i hope the anonnie who requested this enjoys! <3 as always constructive criticism is appreciated and you can request after checking my prompt list.

  just like every other caring parent, your mom went on and on about what she deemed to be important life lessons during your childhood, and even now — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens if you pass by the alley next to the flower garden on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover.

you tried your best to listen to her. you really did. but sometimes, people had weaknesses and besides your more than often bouts of procrastination and incessant affinity for watermelon sour patch candies — 

(“if i was your dentist, i’d probably hate and love you,” jisung snickered as you shot him a look of confusion. “‘cause you must have hella cavities but that would mean i could charge you more money! i’m so sm- ow, that hurts (y/n)!” you rolled your eyes after picking up the bag of watermelon sour patches you had thrown at his forehead and ripping it open to pop one in your mouth) 

—  yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. cute, fluffy, insanely adorable stray cats.

    although you had your fair share of friends, you preferred to stray away from human interaction (honestly, it was too much of a hassle, you were never really the type to approach people first anyways, your shyness getting the best of you and you preferred it that way), you preferred the company of much smaller, fluffier animals. although your mother always warned you about the dangers stray animals possessed, whether it be how they could carry rabid diseases or put you at risk of bad luck, you stopped hesitating to bring some snacks for the poor, small kittens years ago on your daily walk to school.

    you paused as soon as you heard a small mewl followed by some rustling and shuffled your feet forward, peering into the dark alley before you felt something nudge against your leg. you jumped back, but let out a sigh of relief. you crouched down, holding your hand out for the tiny kitten to nuzzle against.

    you cooed and reached into your backpack, bringing out the cubes of watermelon you had packed earlier before gently offering a piece to the black and white kitten. 

    “what do you think you’re doing?” a gruff voice asked, causing you to flinch and jump back. your head snapped up, only to find the source of the voice to be someone who scared you a lot more than you liked to admit.

lee jeno.

    everyone who knew anyone knew that lee jeno fit in with the cliche archetype of a bad boy. he hung out with his troublemaker friends in a group of seven (including jisung, but how you still managed to be friends with that giant noodle without encountering his friends, you will still never know), with rumors spreading like wildfire amongst your peers of them always being late to school, stirring up mischief with their motorbikes and causing ruckuses during detention. 

you didn’t expect him to be here out of all places.

     he was never the center of all of the attention, preferring to stay behind his loudmouth friends and observe quietly, laughing whenever donghyuck or jaemin would make a joke and joining in with his friends’ antics whenever he felt like it. but make no mistake — the moment anyone saw his muscular arms and the glint in his eye, they knew he wasn’t going to be one to mess with.

    you realized he was staring you expectantly, waiting for an answer but your brain seemed to short-circuit from surprise. you opened your mouth, desperately trying to rack up a response with your pea-sized brain (stupid y/n, why did i have to forget how to speak an entire language right at this very moment?, you groaned internally) before closing your mouth and averting your eyes to the very interesting concrete ground.

“cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased, smirking almost flirtatiously. (you never noticed it but jeno’s ears flushed red, not knowing where this sudden confidence came from. he usually wasn’t the type to flirt… at least not like this in broad daylight with a random pretty stranger. he’d be damned to say jaemin was finally rubbing off on him.)

   you bit your lip, unsure what to say back and cursed yourself for being so awkward. you glanced briefly at his figure, his broad shoulders donning his signature outfit of a black leather jacket, low cut almost hawaiian-looking shirt and ripped skinny jeans (it was literally so sunny outside, how was he not sweating in that? also, did he ever wash that jacket? you could’ve sworn you had never even seen him without it) before pressing your lips into a firm, thin line.

  your eyes fluttered down to the kitty, ignoring him, yet you were struggling to remember how to breathe properly. your friends had always called you shy, albeit approachable, but you never realized how difficult it was for you to just simply talk to someone you actually sort of wanted to talk to until this very moment. why was just saying a single word so hard? and why did it have to be the school’s notorious bad boy here with you out of everyone in this town?

  he frowned, not used to girls blatantly ignoring him, but it wasn’t the first time it happened. he tried to search your face for any sign of recognition, but you were too invested in the cat, or rather, his cat to pay him any attention.

(he’s never been jealous of a cat before but he’d never admit that at this moment, he would’ve liked to switch places with nal. what a nice life it must be for a cat to be fed watermelon all day and be coddled with attention and affection from a pretty girl.)

“how’d you know she liked watermelon?” he asked before bending down. your eyes flickered up until you realized how close he was to you, only a few mere inches away from your body. you shrugged, not trusting your voice to speak.

“nal,” he whispered, bending down to your level, whistling to coax her towards him. she meowed, licking the last bit drop of watermelon juice on her paw before pouncing towards jeno, her fluffy tail looping around his beat-up hightops. his usual stoic expression curled up into a boyish grin as he started petting her and murmuring praises of how adorable she was.

   you could hardly believe your own two eyes. lee jeno, everyone’s picture-perfect example of a bad boy who looked like he walked straight out of the  cheesiest teenage rom-com flick was ... a softie for cats?

never in a million years would you have pictured this in your mind.

   you tried to stifle the laughter bubbling in your chest, but jeno looked up to catch your eyes. heat crept up your spine and consumed your face, causing you to look back down at the kitty who was nuzzling against him again.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows.

   you couldn’t help it if your heart decided to do somersaults seeing his innocent expression, resembling that of a confused five-year-old child.

you shook your head before softly asking, “she’s yours?”

   he bit back a grin at finally hearing your voice and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a silver chain collar with a charm (engraved with “nal”), the silver bell attached to it lightly jingling. how ironic yet fitting, you thought.

“i can’t take her home with me because i’m allergic, so i let her roam around here and visit every day until i can find a place for her to stay,” he explains as he scratches her behind the ear, earning a delightful meow before slipping the chain over her head.

   you took a step back, mentally taking a snapshot of this moment. you couldn’t help but giggle lightly once you realized that jeno and nal looked almost exactly alike, as if nal was jeno in cat form, with her black and white fur adorned with a chain collar looking exactly like his usual monochromatic outfit and worn black leather jacket, not to mention the silver chain bracelets and necklace he wore all the time.

jeno’s head snapped up once again to watch you laugh.

his heart thumped a little harder than he would’ve liked to admit.

“bad boys don’t take care of stray cats,” you say, finally locking eyes with jeno. “especially the bad boys who are allergic to cats,” you smile.

   he shrugged, his boyish grin still etched on his handsome face. (screw handsome, you couldn’t lie — you’ve wondered on more than one occasion how blessed his parents must be to have a son whose looks could rival a professional model’s face.)

you couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed now, looking more like a carefree and lovable child rather than a reckless troublemaker.

“don’t judge a book by its cover, sweetheart,” he said before giving you a wink, starkly contrasting with the way he tried to hide how he scratched his reddening nape afterwards.

he gave one last gentle rub to nal’s head before standing up, getting on his motorbike. he looked back, with a glint of something in his eyes. “need a ride, sweetheart? or the cat still got your tongue?”

you froze in your spot, feeling your face turn hot with embarrassment. you weren’t used to this. it was the school’s bad boy after all.

but you could get used to it.

mustering all the courage inside of your shy mighty heart, you look down at nal and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head, letting her nibble on one last piece of watermelon.

“my mother always told me not to judge a book by its cover,” you mused, a hint of playfulness in your voice. “i guess i was wrong about you.”

“i’m y/n,” you added shyly.

jeno’s eyes crinkled into crescents, a genuine smile forming on his face.

“jeno.”

you walked hesitantly up to his bike, and took a seat behind him gingerly.

you let your arms fall to grip the sides of the seat, before jeno shook his head and lifted your hands up to wrap your arms securely around his toned torso. “hold on tight.”

guess your mother was right after all. 

+ bonus blurb!

[imagine-loki]

Toxic

TITLE: Toxic

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki loves telling everyone that he fears nothing and no one. Tony asks him to check in on Character, who has been in a pissy mood all week. Loki chuckles. “Oh, I fear no one, but I’m not suicidal.”

+

The first sign that Loki was a soft boy wasn’t anything big or particularly mushy. He stopped on the street and got down on one knee to help a boy whose laces had come undone and was struggling to do them up himself.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: I entirely forgot about this one-shot in my drafts. I kinda lost steam with it and I decided to post it kind of unedited, so there should be errors and boring valleys galore! Language! Reference to suicide.

SUMMARY: Lily is usually a sweetheart, but there’s a bit of poison flowing through her veins, right now. Meanwhile, Loki has a short bout of good conscience. 

=

“Where are you going?”

Lily jumped, startled, immediately grimacing as her left shoulder smarted. Her arm was in a sling, having crash-landed onto it during a mission last week. The medic had said that she had likely torn one of the tendons in her rotator cuff, but that they would not be able to do anything about it until the swelling came down. Now, her whole arm lay useless in its cloth cradle while the other side bore the weight of bags and baskets.

“Um…,” she hesitated in her place, unsure as to why she was feeling a little like a schoolgirl caught out doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Well, maybe it was the fact that Stark had told her I don’t want you doing anything for the next month… “I was just going to the bodega. I’m out of snacks.”

“No.”

For a second, they stood in silence, staring each other down while she waited to see if there was going to be anything added to his sentiment. “That’s it?” He nodded, looking bored. “Yeah, I’m not a child. I’m going to the bodega.”

Loki groaned. “Lilian…”

“Not my name, dude.” She made the mistake of bumping into his shoulder with her injured side. On any other occasion, with any other human, it would have been no issue. Loki, however, seemed to be as dense as the center of a collapsing star, and though he barely swayed from his spot, she let out a sharp hiss and gritted her teeth painfully.

“You humans are so pathetically feeble, I swear,” he remarked, bending at the knees to gently prod at her shoulder. “Give me the list, I’ll collect your supplies.”

“No,” she replied, instantly, imitating his haughty tone, perfectly.

“Don’t be a child. I can go there and back faster than you can.”

Baby blues shot up and hardened at him. “What do you need? What leverage are you trying to get?” Loki frowned, tilting his head minutely to explore her incensed semblance. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t need to be coddled. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“I didn't–”

“Leave me alone!” With the last shouted syllable, her veins glowed bright green and thorns seemed to sprout from every bit of her skin. Loki held his hands up in surrender, and took a step back for good measure.

With one last withering look, she skirted past his imposing form, and pressed the elevator call button. The doors opened almost instantly, and she slipped in, pressing the button for the ground floor. She did not expect, however, for the elevator to dip slightly under the weight of another person. Despite the fact that she had not seen Loki follow her to the hallway, he was standing there, silently, a few feet between them as they rode the elevator down in silence.

At the lobby, he waited for her to exit the car first, following like a spectre right after. They had made it half a block before Lily could no longer resist the urge to scream, and she turned on her heel to face a calm Loki.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Loki fought the smile creeping onto his lips for a bare minute. “Accompanying you. I thought that much was obvious.”

“I don’t. Need. A babysitter.”

“Never said you did, flower,” he riposted, off-handedly before he gestured her ahead.

Letting out a barely restrained groan, she stomped her way back down the street towards the bodega. Loki, for the most part, followed silently, gently fetching things from the top shelf that he knew she was trying to get to, crowding her side when other people got a little too close, generally treating her like she was a porcelain doll about to shatter.

It was annoying the shit out of her.

The bodega owner had barely reacted when she slammed her basket down and unpacked her groceries to pay for them. Her usually charming, chummy demeanor was extinct and replaced by a surly, snarled lip. Why would he be doing this? Was it just to drive home the point that he thought she was incompetent? Weak? Whatever it was, it was gnawing at her very soul and all she wanted to do was to go back to the tower and hide in her room until her shoulder had recovered.

Snatching her receipt from the bodega owner, she turned away from the counter. “Let’s get moving, Snakeb… Loki?” She glanced left and right, not finding him there, nor could she feel the heaviness of his presence anywhere around her. She glanced out the glass doors and found her missing demigod on the sidewalk. A child of about five or six, who was clearly waiting for his mother to get through with her transaction at the bodega, stood still with a gentle smile. Loki was down on one knee, equally easy grin on his face with a shoelace in either hand.

“I’ll show you again. Pay close attention, alright?” He pulled the strings up taut and made two loops. “Around the trunk of Yggdrasil, the little rabbits go, they twine around the knitted roots and sink deep down below. After they have had their fun they jump up to spring free, but every part of their spirit’s tied to the Great Tree,” he singsonged, knotting the laces easily. “Got that?”

The child nodded, giggling before going off with his mother who was looking at Loki a little too hard to be comfortable.

Loki glanced up, sensing Lily staring and offered her a smile she didn’t return. “Are you ready?”

“You taught him how to tie his shoes.”

He brushed aside her prickly tone, unbothered. “Yes… is that a crime, now?”

“Why?”

“He didn’t know how.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought you didn’t like weak things.”

“You know, at some point you’re going to have to tell me why you’re so cross at me.” He snapped, finally, though he didn’t look angry. Disappointed, maybe? Sometimes it was damn near impossible to place any emotion on his face that wasn’t blind rage.

“I heard you talking to Tony, OK? When I was taken to the medbay, she snapped back with double the fervor.

Loki sighed, counting backwards from ten. He was fond of the mutant and he didn’t want to frighten her by barking at her, as he would anyone else. "Despite what you might think, that doesn’t help explain anything.”

“You told Tony I was weak and didn’t belong in the field!” She shrieked, pushing her index finger into his chest. It hurt her more than it did him, but it was a matter of principle.

“No. I told him it was stupid to send you out to the field to somewhere you’d become weak. Foot-thick steel walls zap your energy and I warned him repeatedly about the repercussions. You got hurt because of it.”

Her anger sputtered and idled at the clarification. “You were looking out for me…?”

Loki laughed, a little mirthlessly. “Imagine that,” he replied, sarcastically. He reached out for her basket, carrying the snack-laden vessel himself to give his hands something to do as he marched stoically down the street. People seemed to sense his mood, as they all parted like the Red Sea for him, though they barely allowed her enough space to squeeze through. Glancing backwards, he caught her eye, slowing his pace considerably to allow her to catch up.

“But… you hate me.”

A little notch formed between his brows as he considered her closely. “When have I ever said that? You’re my friend. I don’t make friends with people I hate… Or people… Or make friends, in general, so you should count yourself very bloody lucky.”

Lily shuffled uncomfortably where she stood, and Loki could have sworn there was a flash of a shadow over features, but it was gone a moment after.

“Can we go back or are you going to stand here and glare at me some more?” He joked easily, gesturing down the street with his chin. The mood seemed to lighten, instantly. He didn’t pay her transient anger any mind.

Perhaps he should have.

The Tower was tense, to put it simply. Laughter, which was commonplace whenever the team was home, was nothing more than a distant memory. It seemed like every little noise and movement set off a chain reaction of unpleasantness from what was usually their most pleasant resident. No one had really expected this side effect. After all, when the mutant decided to tell Tony her secret after having worked for him for five years, she assured that she had it well under control. And it was. Her abilities were second nature at this point. Of course, the pressures of battle are something else, entirely, and little quirks popped up just as little quirks are wont to do.

And pop up, they did.

The first time it happened, the team had come back from mission somewhere in the South Pacific. They were all tired and sun-baked enough that if they never saw the great wide ocean ever again, it would be too soon. Heroes all piled into the kitchen with far too many containers of Chinese food, chatting in quiet hushed tones to give their raw throats and over-sensitive ears a chance to rest.

In the far end of the kitchen, Lily stood on her tip toes. Her small frame strained to reach a mug at the very top of the cabinet so she could make herself some tea. Steve, helpful and gentlemanly as ever, rested a hand on the small of her back to signal her that he was there. Reaching above her, he easily grasped the mug, offering her the handle with a dazzling smile.

Usually, she would beam up at the soldier and give his hand a squeeze. Today, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What, do you think I can’t fucking get a mug now, Rogers?” She snapped, and the soft murmur of the room cut out immediately.

As if in slow motion, they whole team craned their necks over to where the pair stood. Steve had frozen in well-placed shock, mouth opening and closing to grasp for an appropriate apology that he couldn’t understand why he owed. Guilt flashed for but a second across Lily’s features before she cracked her neck awkwardly. Her veins, which would glow a bright green only when using her abilities, pulsed a sludgy brown. She had barely mumbled an apology before going off to hide in her bedroom.

That first encounter had been the mildest, by far.

No one had any idea how to remedy the situation. After all, Lily was usually such a bundle of bright, brilliant energy. She was the one who would always wake up to make breakfast for the group, leave them flowers, bake cookies when one of them seemed sad–she was not a dark, angry entity that yelled at her fellow teammates. Or snarled at anyone for entirely arbitrary reasons (that was Loki’s job, after all). The attitude usually waned after a few days and she’d be back to her bubbly self, which was all the more terrifying.

Right now, however, they were in a dark period.

“Are you truly using a children’s game as a selection tool for whom has to go disturb the plant witch from her self-imposed exile?” Loki asked, a little smugly as he happened upon Natasha and Tony playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to take Lily her new uniform. “You’re pathetic.”

“Don’t act like the sudden goth girl phase isn’t weird. I can tell she scares you,” Nat quipped, rolling her eyes.

Loki gave her a withering stare, looking smug as he circled her in a predatory manner that annoyed the hell out of her. “I fear no one and nothing, Miss Romanov.”

Tony snorted, before a glimmer in his eye sparked and left Loki looking weary. “OK, great. How about you go take this to her, then?” Tony held the bundle for Loki to take.

Loki chuckled, knowing full well the terror that the woman could inflict if provoked. “I said I feared nothing. I didn’t say I was suicidal.” He considered a little longer. “Well, not anymore, anyway.” Tony frowned, making a mental note to follow up at a later date.

“Come on! You two seem to be all buddy-buddy the rest of the time, anyway. Why don’t you just look in on her?”

The god rolled his eyes. “Has it ever occurred to you idiots that perhaps she’s protecting us and not herself when she locks herself away?”

“You are absolutely no help. Fine, Nat–” Tony turned around, sweeping his gaze left and right. “Nat? Where the hell did Nat go?” Frowning, he turned back around to glance at Loki and, instead, found himself alone. “Yeah! Great! Let's… er… regroup later! Good… talk…”

=

Loki sat at the kitchen table, poking at the, frankly disgusting, plate of eggs and bacon that Bruce had genuinely put all his effort into making for the crew. Glancing around the table, he found a sea of faces with the same sad expression. They all definitely longed for Lily’s pancakes and bacon breakfasts right about then. Loki was the only one who wasn’t even making an effort to be polite and put down some of the meal down his gullet. He had eaten some pretty grim things in his life, but he was not about to make that conscious decision when he wasn’t under any type of duress.

“It’s been two weeks, Tony,” Clint quipped, oddly undisturbed by the state of breakfast and munching full speed ahead. “She’s never been dark for this long.”

“I know. Is this you volunteering?”

“Last time I volunteered, I nearly got impaled on barbed thorns the size of my arm. I barely made it out without looking like Swiss cheese.”

“Barbs?” Loki asked, tilting his head curiously.

Clint nodded, eyes widening. “Yep. Big ones.”

Tony caught the whiff of an idea brewing in Loki’s mind. “Why? What are you thinking, Reindeer Games?”

Loki frowned, waving off the interest. “Nothing. Making a rather satisfying image in my head,” he replied, earning him a dark look from Clint and an annoyed sigh from the rest of the table. It wouldn’t do well to get their hopes up, after all.

After breakfast, Loki found himself pacing the corridor of their living quarters. Lily was only a few doors down and had not seen much of anyone in the whole two weeks since they had gotten back from mission. His brain continually told him that there was nothing he could do, no way for him to remedy this situation. That whatever this state of being was, he would only make it worse. It was better if he just went back to his room and waited for her to seek him out.

And yet, there was a small little voice in the back of his mind, his conscience, he would begrudgingly admit, that urged him to knock on her door.

She would go to the ends of the earth for you, if you needed it, it soothed.

The thought sparked images of the annoyingly sweet woman keeping his handful of secrets and being genuinely interested in his life. He could admit that his conscience was speaking the truth, but only because he knew the imp had little in the way of common sense and self-preservation. This was not the creature hissing at them all from across the threshold, though. And, why would he willingly put himself in the line of fire?

Out of the corner of his eye, a figure caught his attention. A vase of flowers on the windowsill, one of her creations. They were no longer the fresh white daisies they had been when they were placed there. Now they looked like some sort of Nightshade and he was certain they were not the nice kind.

“Oh, you fucking bleeding heart,” he ground out with a groan just as his conscience won out. Without allowing himself time to think or change his mind, he pounded his fist on her door. “Open up or I’ll break it down, Lilian.”

“Fuck off, popsicle!” Her voice was rough and shuddering, like she was trying very hard to keep everything out–or herself in.

Loki swallowed at the venomous retort that brewed at the tip of his tongue on its own accord. Being the bigger person was never quite his forte (nor did it ever get him good results), but he was able to reign himself back in. Rolling his eyes, Loki placed his hand on the door, letting the golden glow of magic envelop it before a satisfactory click let him know that it was open. He had barely crossed the threshold when he jumped back with a yelp.

On the floor, where flowers usually formed a dense, soft carpet, were twisting brambles and thorns. Flytraps and pitcher plants lined the walls, all too large to be considered just houseplants, and blooms burst open, letting out plumes of pollen that Loki dared not to breathe.

This was definitely worse than what he was expecting.

His eyes tore away from the dark forest with a little effort. “Lily,” he tutted softly, watching the woman tucked into a tight ball, tears leaking from her tightly lidded eyes.

It should have been obvious to him. Every living creature had a defense mechanism. Predators had their teeth, prey had their speed, and plants had adapted in similar fashion. Thorns, barbs, poison, giant vats of acid–they had made sure that their lineages survived. It stood to reason that Lily’s mutation, tired of the fighting and the constant worry of missions would also develop some dark effect. Since she wasn’t allowing herself to be dry and acerbic to her friends, her biology had found an alternate solution.

He should have thought of it before.

“Gods, how much pain are you in?” He asked, kneeling beside her on the bed. He ignored the spines digging into his trousers from where he walked through some cacti. There was no response, but rather a whimper and a sigh. “Flower, look at me.”

“Leave me alone, you self-aggrandizing asshole,” she growled, not bothering to open her eyes.

The corner of his mouth twitched, even as he pushed her hair out of her scowling face. It had gone from a bright silver to a dark, smoky grey. “You forgot self-serving and maddeningly good looking.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Agree to disagree.” At his touch her skin erupted in prickers as though they were goosebumps. He swallowed the hiss at getting his fingers skewered, blood pooling at the tips.

Lily’s fists flew in his direction, though he easily caught them in one hand. This time the groan of pain wasn’t silent and blood trickled down his wrists from his palms. “Stop it! Don’t touch me! FRIDAY, he’s hurting me!”

“Disregard that, FRIDAY. Lily, I swear–” She struggled in his grasp, eyes opening and flashing pitch black at him. He was shocked enough that he released her wrists. Her nails grew into sharp wooden talons and just as she reared back to swipe at him, Loki had enough sense to lay his hand on her temple and command, “Sleep.” Her body stiffened and slumped down a second later. “That bloody stings,” he complained, letting her rest back on the bed and bringing the covers over her oddly cool skin.

Loki couldn’t help but compulsively stroke his fingers through her hair, eyebrows pulled together in concern. For all his knowledge of magic and aliens and different realms, he could not figure out for the life of him how to soothe the poison threatening to consume her. In her slumber, she whimpered, shuffling closer to the gentle heat that radiated off of him in waves. Loki convinced himself that he was allowed to dote on her, so long as she wasn’t conscious to remember it. The sludgy brown lines going up and down her exposed skin lightened somewhat under his careful evaluation. Enough that he did not feel threatened when he tapped at her temple and took the sleeping spell off.

He offered a small smile when her eyes blinked up at him in confusion. They were back to their normal baby blue, though her hair still resembled plumes of smoke. “Easy,” he whispered as she jerked away from his touch, all at once. Instead of a hiss or an insult, she frowned, settling back to rest against the pillows, body barely brushing against his. “You’re safe.”

Lily nodded, breathing deeply. This time she didn’t hesitate when he brushed his fingers over her hair. “What are you doing?”

“Tending the garden.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I’m not a garden.”

“Yeah, you are. A few brambles and prickles here and there. Nothing a good prune and a hug won’t fix.” He used his index finger to lift her chin, having essentially buried herself into one of her pillows, cheeks burning. “You don’t have to keep us safe, flower. Sometimes, you’ll need to vent all that ill will and it is not up to you to avoid that.”

“Says the frost giant masquerading as an Asgardian.”

Loki let out a bark of laughter. “I think I liked you more unconscious.” Sadness flashed through her features, eyes downcast. “I was joking. You know I was.”

Lily nodded and the two fell into a tense silence for a long while. The mutant had sat up, fidgeting with her hands on her lap while Loki watched her, expectantly. He wouldn’t press her, of course, but he could tell that there was something on her mind that she wanted to get out in the open. When she didn’t say anything, he simply placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m scared,” she blurted out.

“Well, you’re very scary so that makes sense.” The look she gave him told him that was not the answer she wanted and before she could look even more dejected, he added. “And that’s good. You’re powerful. You should be scary. Scary keeps you safe. Fear is a great motivator.”

Loki was starting to panic. It didn’t seem like any of what he was saying was helping her, though it was possibly the most honest and candid he had ever been. If anything, the quickly gathering tears in her eyes told him that he was making it leaps and bounds worse. Shouldn’t she be ecstatic that she could make anyone bend to their will by looking a little ominous? She certainly had the whole of the Avengers acting like she was some sort of displeased deity.

Except she wasn’t. She was gentle and giving and cared. It was becoming very apparent that this was her own personal hell.

“I don’t fear you,” he muttered, brushing hair away from her face. This time there were no barbs to prick him. “And honestly, the rest of these idiots don’t, either. They’re just worried for you.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Maybe because there’s nothing to fix. I’m guessing that with a little training you can learn to use… whatever the hell this is to your advantage.” His mouth twitched in a small smile. “Sometimes you must learn to embrace the darkness, dear.”

Lily was quiet for another long while, picking at her nails while she thought hard. “Loki?”

“Yes, pet?”

“Can I have a hug if I promise not to tell anyone?”

Loki barked out a laugh, pulling Lily into his arms and squeezing her tightly. “I don’t give a shit if you tell anyone. They probably won’t believe you, anyway,” he murmured into her hair, noting the soot-like material that clung to his fingers as he stroked her hair, turning it back to silver. “Don’t suppose you know if this is dangerous or not?” Lily shook her head against his chest. “Of course you don’t. Why would you?” The mutant giggled against him when he squeezed her a little tighter.

“Loki?” The Prince hummed his recognition against her crown. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

It took Loki supreme effort to blink away the tears that for some reason had sparked to his eyes, unbidden, at the sentiment. “It is my distinct honor, flower.” Comfortable silence filled the room for a moment longer. “I also couldn’t take Bruce’s cooking for another day.”

Lily scoffed, pushing away from his chest with a glare. “Why? Why do you ruin it?”

“Have you met me? Come on!”

“I hate you. Next time I’m poisoning you,” she whined, pulling Loki after her.

“Where are we going?”

“I can tell you haven’t eaten because you’re a child. We’re going to the kitchen.”

Loki grinned, following dutifully after her, as if the imp had any physical means to drag him anywhere. “Do I get pancakes?”

“No!”

“Please?”

“…fine.”

[tisthepoetl]

There are many stressors in a modern day lifestyle.

Usually these include the looming threat of death, the monotony of working for currency that stopped being useful years ago and deer.

There are so, so many stressed people. Made worse by the apocalypse that didn’t happen, the riots that most definitely happened, and the negotiations that have been “in progress” for the last few years.

The amount of rapid budget changes are stressing out some people. The amount of rapid cultural exchange is stressing people out. If you work in any field, any field at all, you are likely to be stressed as all hell.

Eventually, they have to pick someone on the ship to be shown as an expert negotiator. No one is prepared for this. Most of them are middle men, most of them don’t have a clue what they’re supposed to be doing, and all of them are panicking.

So they drew straws. The most important decision of all time is made by dumb luck, and honestly that’s a pretty good metaphor for everything happening right now.

Name someone on their haphazard crew and they will have a conflict of interest. Name one member and they will be grossly under qualified.

America has four ambassadors out of the eight chosen. Not because they’re the most presentable, or the most qualified, or the best possible choice, but because they overpaid for a privilege nobody wanted.

If all of this goes to hell they're getting the blame. And if they get the blame the only plan is to point at whoever was voluntold to be leader and pray for leniency.

Every part of this is a desperate attempt to stall before the actual powers back home have found a way to bullshit having any actual control of things.

It shows.

It really, really shows.

So, who was the unlucky scapegoat for the possible downfall of all of humanity?

If you guessed Samantha who wasn’t supposed to even be on this ship, you would be correct!!

Seriously, she was the back up for someone who was almost conceivably qualified. Sort of, if you squinted and ignored the fact they were only there via nepotism, only to be pulled out once everyone realized they were sacrificial lambs.

And then the replacement was also saved from this bullshit via bribery and blackmail and probably some other third sketchy thing she doesn’t know about.

So, here she is, Samantha who had planned on changing her name before realizing she wasn’t getting out of this. Samantha, the replacement for the replacement who was chosen by a lottery held only for the illusion of equal opportunity.

There are literally billions and billions of people whose lives will be affected by whatever she ends up doing. Countless children, parents, lovers and friends and siblings. All of whom would either die or live by whatever ends up happening.

Luckily, she has one coping mechanism which never fails: Repression!!

So she thinks about literally anything else. Thinks about her favorite song as the ship nears the giant towering shape of the Galactic Senate’s meeting place. Thinks about fluffy dogs as she is led by the hand through walls and portraits and treasures with descriptions she can’t read because there are no translators yet.

Thinks about her mother, thinks about her sibling, thinks about the fact everyone could literally die and it would be her fault, and wow she’s already here.

The meeting place has a mouthful name that she could only pronounce if she managed to dislocate her jaw, grow a new set of teeth, and get a proboscis. Everyone calls it the Meeting Place, because again, there are no working translators, they all have to rely on vague equivalents.

The Meeting Place is a moon sized ship, so incomprehensibly large that any species will be able to fit. It has a dock, and a large empty room with nothing in it except for alien leaders who could slaughter them all at a whim.

There are no chairs. The temperature is set to “Mildly unpleasant but liveable.” Unity and democracy means that everyone is equally uncomfortable, because this exact temperature is workable for most species.

Samantha feels a chill down her spine, both from the cold and the fact that so many of them are glaring at her. She is in the center, her crew is placed too far away to help her, and their borrowed ship is miles away from where they are now.

She prays to the gods she doesn’t believe in and hopes she can stall well enough for the clusterfuck back home to get their shit together.

“H…” she starts eloquently. She tries to refind where the rest of humanity’s first impression was stationed, but her view is blocked by the hundreds of giant aliens. “He..llo?” she finishes.

There’s a click, and she flinches back because what if that’s a weapon. A small cube clatters to the ground in front of her, before popping up and showing a hologram.

She would be visibly impressed, in awe, if it weren’t for the fact she’s half sure these diplomats could take any reaction as an insult.

She wouldn’t be able to explain herself either, it’s too early for any sort of translator to have been made, it’s too early for anything about human body language to be common knowledge.

The crowd surrounding her rustles, fins are raised and noises are made and colors are changed. It means something, probably, but she can’t tell what.

The hologram cube makes a loud, ear splitting sound, like a mix between a flatlining heart in a movie and a fire alarm going off. It snaps her out of her spiraling.

There are two large lines pointing at a screen that is pulsing with the most neon red she’s ever had the unfortunate luck of seeing. She stares at it, and realizes it’s a quiz.

Well, more like a shitty rushed powerpoint. Like something you would make in under an hour for the fun of it.

It says, “What Human Want [Ask],” and she has the sneaking suspicion that whoever made this wasn’t trying very hard. Underneath are barely recognizable butcherings of numbers, listing answers from one to three.

“1. Want hurt. Want no us. Lone want.”

“1nd. Want love. Want share. Want us help.”

“1rd. Want no meet us. Want late meet. Want lone.”

All of it is….confusing to say the least. At this point she doesn’t even know if this is a joke or not.

Then again this wasn’t supposed to be her job, she doesn’t understand them either, and maybe they were genuinely trying here. But then again there are so many of them, they probably have enough resources to make at least a dozen Earths and this meeting took multiple years to take place.

The red that flashed before flashes again, than flashes a disturbingly real fingerprint on top of the answers.

She presses the second one, and wills herself to not regret it immediately. Love, sharing, help, all of that sounds good.

Except what if the help is from humanity? What if their definition of help, share, love is killing everyone ever living and she just doomed it all?? What if it means—

“[Greeting] [Greeting Happy] [Greeting Love] [Greeting Happy Angry Bored] [Greeting (Deragotory)]” a voice drones through a translation of the crowd. Samantha wonders when this will be over, and if she’s going to die of anxiety before that happens.

“[Greeting Small Childish] [Greeting Sad Fear] [Greeting (Endeared)] [Greeting Pain Hurt] [Greeting Love Fear Pain]” it doesn’t stop, running through every risen scale and moving limb to translate some vague approximation.

The aliens have translators. The translators are awful. This is taking so much time, which is good for the mission of stalling and bad for Samantha’s sanity.

“[Species Name (Derogatory)] [Mother (Derogatory)] [Criminal (Deragot—]“ the whole crowd is making noise, some like barks and some like tweets and some like a monster out of hell.

And all of them seem to be arguing? Or insulting each other? Either way it continues on for a long stretch of time with nothing but noisy aliens and a robotic voice reciting nonsense that always ends in “(Derogatory.)”

“[Wrong: Too long.] [Wrong: Too fast.] [Wrong: No word Human.]” The sounds are longer, most of the crowd making them rising and puffing out to be bigger. “[Plea Slow.] [No Word for Our Word.] [New Local Child Pet Ally speak.] [No word for Our Word.]”

Samantha realizes once again, that she should’ve left when she had the chance. And never entered that stupid lottery.

“[I hate every single one of you.] [Stop! The Ally-New-Child-Local may hear.] [You are all stupid [Species Name]]” the noises transition into understandable sentences. “[The small Diplomat-Traveler will be confused. Stop.] [They are doing fine. They will not understand our words.] [When is that useless translator going to update, Myy-Rrr-Pl?]”

Humanity as a whole can only take so much. One human as a whole can only take so much. She is halfway to a mental breakdown, fully confused and honestly she just wants to go home. This is the kind of wonder she would love if she didn’t have to personally deal with the consequences.

So she goes the way of most unqualified, underpaid workers, and gives up. She isn’t going to scream or sabotage anything, but her ability to feel was already warring with the tempting concept of not giving a fuck.

She speaks, for the second time. “I can hear you. And I don’t much appreciate being called a child.”

“[.....]” the crowd is finally silent. She basks in the peace.

“[I told you to stop confusing the Ambassador.] [Shut up Myy-Rrr-Pl. You didn’t even get these made right, we had to make a presentation, that’s how awful you and your tech were.] [It's working now, okay?]” The peace was lovely while it lasted.

“Humanity wants, uh, to not be dead,” she says. “And to not be enslaved either. Or like used as food.”

“[Can you understand it?] [Of course I can, I’m the one who learned the language.] [You barely learned it. You put half that presentation into a free-use translator.]” they keep talking, keep barking, chirping, hissing over her. “[This is a disaster.] [It’s not that bad. My presentation went over well enough.] [Myy-Rrr-Pl shut your beak about that [intercourse (derogatory)] thing.]”

“CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR ONE SECOND??” Samantha shouts above the arguing ambassadors. There is only so much she can tolerate, the noise alone is irritating but the senseless, contextless bickering is unbearable

“This is ridiculous,” she continues. “I don’t even know what’s going on, none of you dropped us an explanation. Why can I suddenly understand you? Who the hell is Meer-er-pull? And what the fuck is going on?”

There is no more translation, and nothing to translate into constant robotic rambling. There is no peace in the silence, just an underlying tension as every alien in the room turns to stare her in the eyes.

She wonders if she’s fucked up, if she’s doomed literally all of humanity because she couldn’t tolerate it all and lashed out. There’s an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t manage to push it out through the indignation and fear.

No one breaks the silence. None of them speak. Samantha’s momentary confidence wavers and she considers making a run for it before realizing there are more of those giant aliens stationed at every exit.

“[....Aumko, I think we may have [intercourse (deragotory)] this beyond fixing.] [Feces (Derogatory) Feces (Derogatory) Feces (Derogatory)—]” Luckily, it doesn’t sound like she’s going to be executed for this. Unluckily, the aliens are just as unprepared as they were, and it wasn’t going to get any less confusing, was it?

“[I told you [Anatomical Feature (Exapserated)] that we should’ve started with a smaller group of diplomats. Instead of a “proper” meeting with everyone involved, we should’ve picked one from each of the 3 species, then gone from there. That would’ve been—]”

“I’m not getting any less confused here!!” Samantha cuts off the alien. “I’m not getting any younger either, I’m sick of your childish bickering, get over it and give me an explanation. Please, for the love of god.”

There’s a moment of pause as the translator spits out a bunch of meaningful white noise. It takes a couple moments before one of the birds speaks up.

“[We should cancel this until another time,] the bird chirps. Which isn’t satisfying, which isn’t an explanation, but hey it does technically fulfill the mission of stalling. And honestly she’s taking any win she can get from this. “[We’ll meet up with one of their diplomats, in a less noisy location. They’ll meet with one ambassador from each of our species.]

“[That doesn’t make sense though!!] [How will we even choose?] [A smaller meeting would be a sign of disrespect, we must show that we don’t view the New-Ally as lesser.]” the noise starts up again immediately.

“[SHUT UP!!]” roars one of the giant bears in a show of irritation that she can relate to on a spiritual level. “[Myy-Rrr-Pl will serve as the [Error: No suitable translation]’s ambassador. I’ll be the second ambassador. The third will be Kss’ta.]

There are ruffled feathers, low growls, no outward arguments but no agreements either.

“[I will quite literally fight anyone who decides to waste my time any further.] the bear is...puffing up? The mane of fur around its neck is puffed up like the pelt of an angry cat. “[Myy-Rrr-Pl is the only one who can even half speak the language, and who has the most context. Even if her presentation was awful.]”

“[I’m going to be there personally to ensure this doesn’t happen a second time. And Kss’Ta is the only one of you [Species Name] [Intercourse (Derogatory)] who doesn’t argue around in circles.”

The crowd is unhappier than ever. The bear speaking sounds done with it all. Samantha is too exhausted to give a shit at this point, and just decides to be glad it’s finally over, for now.

“[Is everyone here agreed with me?”] it flares about the room, ears pinned flat to its head and mane big enough to engulf the whole of its neck. All of the crowd flinches back, no one argues too vehemently, though complaints are muttered.

The bear turns to Samantha. “[You have my apologies for my own behavior, and the behavior of these [Species Name (Derogatory)]. We’ll escort your ship back to your station.]”

Relief hits her in a mix of “it’s finally over,” and “thank fuck no one died.”

Everyone leaves, with the mission sort of accomplished, with the peace talk sort of working, and a compromise no one is happy with. Except for Samantha.

But then she learns she’s the ambassador for humanity again, and a piece of her dies at the revelation.

Humanity’s welcome to the galaxy was chaotic, idiotic, ill prepared, and an overall clusterfuck of literally galactic proportions.

At least no one died.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Epistolary

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 To My Enemy (Secretly Yours) by randoyoyo Rated:  Teen Words:  9757 Tags:  Epistolary, Eighth Year, Roommates, Fluff Summary:  McGonagall has decided on some changes for those returning to Hogwarts for an 8th year. Not only will Houses be abolished, but there will be a shared commonroom and rooms will be assigned to pairs. On top of that, they're all randomly assigned a pen pal within the same year that they have to write to each week. Harry and Draco don't like the way any of this information sounds, but it doesn't set in until they get their room assignments...they're going to be roommates?? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Re: Harry's Crush by lettersbyelise Rated:  Teen Words:  3700 Tags:  Epistolary, Bets & Wagers, Aurors, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Humor, Banter Summary:  Ever get that feeling you're being talked about behind your back? Harry doesn't, he's too busy being stupidly, obviously besotted with the guy in the lab downstairs. A fic where the interdepartment betting war at the Ministry gets out of hand, Millicent and Hermione get scheming, Harry Potter ends up wearing black eyeliner, and everybody ends up getting more than they bargained for. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Misdirection by lea_anberlyn Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  3764 Tags: Humor, Snarky!Malfoy, Epistolary Summary:  Harry buys a new owl after the war – a bird he soon realises is cursed to send letters to the person he hates most. Draco Malfoy finds the whole thing hilarious. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Dear Enemy by GingerTodgers Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  69130 Tags: Epistolary, Secret Identity, Orphanage, Harry Potter's School For Squibs, Slow Burn, Swearing, Politics, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Greg Goyle, Light Angst Summary:  An anonymous benefactor makes a generous donation to Harry Potter's School for Squibs in exchange for a weekly letter from the Boy Who Lived. What begins as a chore soon becomes the only outlet Harry has to talk about the war, love, life, hope, redemption, his renewed obsession with a certain blonde nemesis and how he really, honestly, believes that this will be the year Puddlemere United reclaim the Quidditch League Cup. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Howlr by partialtopotter Rated:  Explicit Words:  47634 Tags: Texting, text!fic, Sexting, Romance, dating app, Anal Sex, Rimming, they don't know they're falling for each other, Ginny has a personality, THIS IS NOT A NON-MAGICAL AU, Professor Harry, pansy x ginny, LGBTQ Themes, Smut, Mistaken Identity, Phone Sex, Depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Humor, Post-Hogwarts, Not Epilogue Compliant, Switching, Light BDSM, Bisexual Male Character, Spanking, Epistolary, Textfic Summary:  Howlr is the new dating application enchanting Witches, Wizards and Everyone in between. Are you looking for the one or a one-night stand; it’s all here folks. Howlr is sponsored by Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the same team that brought us the Spellular just two years ago. Ginny Weasley, famed chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies, swears by the app, ‘guaranteed to make sparks fly,’ she says. The magic awaits you! ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Garden War by Cibee (Cibeeeee) Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4884 Tags: Fluff and Humor, Epistolary, Draco and Harry are neighbors, with a lake between them, and they keep trying to make their garden better than the other's, "one tree? fuck you I'll grow TWO trees", then omg quarantine, Frenemies to friends to lovers, Friends to Lovers, draco has a cat, harry has chickens, Mutual Pining, they both have no chills, Idiots in Love, Dramatic Draco Malfoy Summary:  Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another. What better ways to spend this time than to annoy each other with letters and attempts to prove that their garden is better ? ❤��� Read on AO3

📜 A Series of Neighbourly Epistles by slytherco Rated:  Mature Words:  13671 Tags: Neighbors, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Anonymity, Letters, anonymous notes, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Mutual Masturbation, Blind Date, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy Has Long Hair, and it's glorious, Draco Malfoy in a leather jacket, Brief Draco Malfoy/Other, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, some French food, Bisexual Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, the morning after, Pillow Talk, One Night Stands, that turn out to be possibly-not-so-one-night, Snark, Banter, Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, in general there's sex but it's not graphic ok?? Summary:  Harry finds himself in a very awkward spot when he calls the Aurors on his neighbour… having very loud sex. As in not actually killing anyone. He writes him a disgruntled note and thus begins a very interesting exchange. When they finally decide to meet, Harry’s not quite prepared to find out who his mystery neighbour turns out to be. Or for everything that happens next, for that matter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Texting You by ununquadius Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  6005 Tags: Major Character Death, text fic, draco is dead, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, or maybe hurt/no comfort, Everyday Life, Pets, Asexual Harry Potter, Indian Harry Potter, one penis drawing, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Loneliness, Drinking, Terminal Illnesses, blink and you missed them suicidal thoughts Summary:  After Draco's death, Harry can't let go so he keeps texting their private chat, updating him on his life and rambling about everything and anything until it almost feels like there's a possibility that, one day, a reply will come. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 More Than Kisses, Letters Mingle Souls by Erin_Riwen, Kristinabird Rated:  Mature Words:  21171 Tags: Epistolary, Professor Harry Potter, Professor Draco Malfoy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Fluff with feelings, Past Child Abuse, Past Suicide Thoughts, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore Summary:  It's the beginning of the term at Hogwarts and Professor Harry Potter never seems to be able to get close enough to have an actual conversation with Professor Draco Malfoy. When he discovers it's because his colleagues have been intentionally keeping them apart for fear they might have issues, he bristles at the intrusion and decides to send a letter to a very confused Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Summer's Lease by GallifreyisBurning, xkingofgamesx Rated:  Explicit Words:  74162 Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Epistolary, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Post-War, pre-eighth year, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, slowest of burns, First Kiss, First Time, Coming Out, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, All of the jobs except employment, Gentlemen of Leisure, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Home Renovation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Nightmares, Mental Health Issues, Homophobia, Lots of drinking, Happy Ending, Fluff Summary:  It was just a letter. And then another. And then another. And then it was something more. The summer after the war, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are both at loose ends, not sure how they fit into a world where both of their roles have been fulfilled, for better or for worse. As the learn to live with surviving, they find, together, an unexpected way forward. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Recompense & Reparo by sablier_bloque Rated:  Explicit Words:  48981 Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Regency, Slow Burn, Pining, Gay Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Historical, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Frottage, mention of suicide, mention of period-typical racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Mention of Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Draco Malfoy tries to redeem himself in a very Slytherin way, Meddling mothers, Magic Rituals, Quidditch, Mention of Minor Character Death, Happy Ending, Letters, Epistolary, Indian Harry Potter, Desi Harry Potter, Austen-inspired, Mention of torture Summary:  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a pureblood wizard in possession of a slandered reputation will do absolutely anything to return to good graces. And Mr. Draco Malfoy, pureblood wizard whose reputation has certainly been slandered by The War (and perhaps even by his own actions in said war) has a plan. A list of five steps to restore the Malfoy family to its proper place in society. That is until Harry Potter comes along and mucks it all. A Regency AU, in which there are ungloved touches, letters, meddling mothers, and hope that love can somehow find a way. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Always and Forever by PurePeace Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  35162 Tags: N/A Summary:  An epistolary fic between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, taking place after the trials. It starts with irritation and relucant gratitude and ends - hopefully - with romance, always and forever. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 No Greater Victory by dicta_contrion Rated:  Explicit Words:  26951 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Bets & Wagers, Diary/Journal, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Scheming, Blackmail, Recreational Drug Use, Casual Sex, Snark, Draco starts out as an angry defensive arse, Personal Growth, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Switching, First Time, Making Love, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending Summary:  Back at Hogwarts after the war, a defeated Draco Malfoy is prepared to settle for life's simpler pleasures: snark, sex, and Slytherin scheming. That is until Pansy, newly in possession of Malfoy Manor, offers to return his ancestral home. Just one condition: he has to win, and break, Harry Potter's heart to get it. That's no problem. Draco's got this situation completely under control. Completely. At least until he doesn't. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Help Is Always There For Those Who Ask by donnarafiki, orpheous87 Rated:  Mature Words:  12873 Tags: Post-War, Mental Health Issues, Healer Draco Malfoy, Angst, Epistolary, Getting Together, No healer/patient, Depression, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Therapy, Friendship Summary:  It's been years since the war, and Harry's been doing fine (Not!Auror). But after witnessing a violent incident in muggle London, he feels empty and angry. Eventually, he reaches a breaking point and has an outburst in public. The next day he finds a letter on his desk, the Ministry reaching out to connect him with a mind healer, saying they don’t even have to see each other, and everything can be done privately if Harry wants to keep it anonymous and confidential. He decides to write back. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 This feeling inside by Andithiel Rated:  Mature Words:  8714 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Epistolary, Diary/Journal, flatmates, omg they were roomates, lockdown - Freeform, Quarantine, bisexual awakening, Oblivious, As in ridiculously oblivious, Mentions of a fictional pandemic, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Cooking, Baking, learning to play the guitar, mentions of:, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Kissing, I think it was in that order Summary:  Harry Potter and his flatmate Draco are both straight as nails. But during a lockdown, things start to get a little desperate, and suddenly they’re giving each other friendly handjobs and blowjobs on the regular. But that’s okay. That’s just what friends do. Right? A story about two oblivious idiots, told through the diary of Harry James Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

[thetriggeredhappy]

angst&hurt/comfort, where scout is anxious and doubts his skills, so he tries to calm himself by holding/hugging/whatever his plushie (or something else, idk), whilst someone is trying to get to him, to make him confess what is bothering him? idk if you wanna make it a ship ir maybe dad spy, ily -🦂

oh dude you already KNOW dad!spy hours are 24/7 up in here. welcome to “projecting RSD onto Scout TF2 episode 85″

-

Stupid summer, stupid break, stupid losing streak. Stupid everything.

Usually Scout was excited about breaks. A week or so of getting to be off work, heading home to visit family or going on a road trip or whatever was happening. It was nice, he loved it. But this time they had explicit orders from their boss not to go anywhere or do anything. To stay on base or to go specifically exclusively to the store in the nearest town for food or whatever. He hated it. The base was too small to hang out in for more than a few days at a time. He hated it.

And not to mention that they’d finished off work on a bad note. A day of losses turning into a week of losses, half the team scrambling to try and pull together enough to get one last good push in before the break and the other half deciding to just accept the loss and do better once they got back.

And every day after battle Soldier would single out someone who wasn’t on top of their game and lecture them. And all week, instead of going for the people who were largely slacking off and not breaking their necks to try and get them some actual wins, he went after Scout, who was so frantic that he kept making stupid mistakes.

And he just... usually he argued about it, and got in a fight with Soldier, but he just... didn’t have the energy for it. The day was over. They’d lost. And Scout knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but it kind of felt like it. Maybe if he’d tried just a little bit harder, pushed himself just a little further, he could’ve gotten the rest of the team motivated. Maybe they all would’ve picked things back up and tried too. But he couldn’t do it.

It was frustrating. He knew his job, beyond what he did on the field, was trying to keep morale up. He kept music playing, he was always up for hanging out or playing a few hands of poker or headed into town with someone to get shitty fast food. And he tried really hard to be funny and to keep things lighthearted, tried so fucking hard to keep spirits up. And he knew if he said anything about it, pointed out how literally like all of his time was spent trying to make sure everyone was feeling okay, it would...

He didn’t know. Maybe they’d just tell him off for being whiny or whatever. Maybe it would stop working so well, if they knew he was always doing it so extremely on purpose, so intentionally. He didn’t know.

But at that moment, he was feeling so much like utter garbage that he knew he had to just avoid the team so he didn’t drag the mood down further. Usually they didn’t really miss him anyways, other than idly asking if he’d gotten into any trouble while he was off doing “whatever he did”. All he knew was that him feeling like shit around everyone else would just make them feel bad too. And it was break anyways—maybe they’d just end up feeling better on their own. Especially since he wasn’t around to interrupt them.

He had plenty of food in his room, mostly chips and candy bars and stuff like that, stuff he didn’t want the guys stealing. And he’d totally share if they asked, for sure, but for that moment he was mostly just digging through the hoard for himself and doing not much of anything else.

He felt like kind of an idiot, sitting alone and eating his feelings like some kind of angsty teen in a movie or the chick in the romcom who just got broken up with. But there was nobody there to ridicule him except himself. And he did, but... the point stood.

A few days passed like that. He had food, he had the little bathroom connected to his room, he had comics to entertain himself. He slept a lot, mostly. Felt like garbage. Read some comics. Ate chocolate about it. Slept some more. He left a few times to do a few assorted things—called home like he did every week, went into the common room late one night to grab some of his records back so he could listen to them.

At one point, he got a knock on his door. He didn’t answer, couldn’t seem to find the energy to. A second knock when the first was unanswered after about twenty seconds. He still didn’t move.

The next day, another knock. This one was accompanied by words. “Scout? I know you’re in there,” Spy called, sounding annoyed.

To be honest, Scout was pretty sure he didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever Spy was about to lecture him about. So he just rolled over.

“You’ve missed every team meal for almost four days. You’re being rude,” Spy declared.

Scout reached off the side of the bed and picked up a plushie that had fallen down. It was a big, chunky pig, and he’d won it when he and Pyro had gone out to a fair and he’d knocked the ball toss game out of the park. Pyro had taken three of the plushies he’d won, and insisted he keep the fourth for himself.

He felt like even more of a dumb baby, sitting there cradling a stuffed animal like he was scared to head off to his first day of kindergarten, but he was already too tired and filled with vague unrest for it to get to him much.

At some point he heard a heavy sigh and the clack of fancy shoes moving away down the hallway, and Scout relaxed.

Twenty minutes later, a knock.

“Scout, let me in,” Spy said firmly.

“Fuck off, Spy,” Scout snapped.

“Scout, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to,” Spy declared.

“Bullshit.”

A heavy sigh, and then a few moments later the door swung open.

“What the fuck?” Scout asked, lifting his head to glare towards the door as Spy stepped inside.

“I know how to pick locks, Scout. You know this.” Spy squinted to try to get used to the light, the blinds having been drawn. “I’m turning a light on.”

Scout just grumbled, dropping his head back into the plush pig. In his periphery, the light was indeed turned on. There was a beat of silence.

“I brought a plate from dinner. I was concerned you would get scurvy, since you now apparently have the diet of an eight year old child who was given a hundred dollars and left unsupervised at the grocery store,” Spy said dryly.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ handouts, Spy,” Scout muttered, muffled.

“It’s not a handout, it’s the fact that I refuse to have anyone on the team besides me whose teeth are falling out. Take the food.”

“Fuck off.”

Spy sighed again, and after a moment he moved to put the plate on the bedside table. Scout prickled at the proximity, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up.

“I noticed that while you haven’t been at dinner, you still took the time to leave a thumb tack on my chair. Usually when you do that it’s because you’re angry with me. What exactly have I done?”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just mad,” Scout grumbled.

“You know, it’s very childish to refuse to look at someone when they are trying to talk to you.”

“Guess I’ll just keep being the dumb idiot kid of the team then, huh?” Scout snapped.

Silence for a moment. “Scout. You’ve locked yourself away in your room and refused to come out again for several days. I know that something is wrong. The team does too—they’re starting to worry.”

“That might just be the most obvious lie you’ve ever fuckin’ told me, Spy,” Scout practically spat, and was glad to have his voice muffled, because suddenly it went a little tight.

“Is it that hard to believe that perhaps your teammates care about you?” Spy asked, a little sharply.

“It’s me, in case you haven’t noticed,” Scout said next, getting his voice back under control. “People don’t hang around me on purpose. They put up with me. And then they stop putting up with me at some point.”

“That’s not true,” Spy said, tone leaving no room for argument, but Scout elbowed some argument in anyways.

“All seven of my brothers, every fuckin’ date I’ve ever been on, the standing ban sayin’ I can’t go in Engie’s workshop or in Heavy’s workspace down by the boiler or the infirmary unless I’m actually seriously injured—“ Scout listed off, ticking off on his fingers, keeping his face hidden. “My own fucking dad decided he couldn’t fucking stand me and I was two years old, Spy, what the hell does that tell you? I’m an annoying little piece of shit and that’s all I’m ever gonna be and then one of these days I’m gonna die for real out in this hellhole desert and ain’t a single damn person out here will have ever even bothered to learn the name that’s supposed to go on my gravestone.”

Dead silence in the room. Scout’s arm fell back down by his side. His voice was shaky when he spoke again.

“Nobody’s ever even asked,” he managed. “Demo’s real name is Tavish, Heavy’s real name is Mikhal but his sisters call him Misha. And plenty of you guys get asked about it all the time but you don’t wanna say. And nobody’s ever even fuckin’ asked me.”

Silence for a few more seconds.

“I’m a whole person,” Scout said next. “I’m really into sci-fi. I’ve read every mainline issue comic book ever published after ‘35. I know how to cook and draw and I know the all the stats of every person on every major league baseball team. I was in theater in high school between track and baseball season in the winters and I and got a lead role on some Shakespearicles thing before it got cancelled because of budget cuts. I bet you didn’t even know that.”

“I didn’t,” Spy admitted.

“And why would you? Who the fuck cares? It’s just dumb scrawny idiot Scout, who the fuck cares what his deal is? He can barely do his job and read any word that’s over four syllables, who cares what he does? He ain’t nothin’ today, he must never have been somethin’ in the first place.”

“Scout—“

“Tell me I’m wrong, Spy,” he snapped, voice cracking down the middle.

“You’re wrong. Scout, what’s going on?” Spy asked, and his voice sounded closer, like he’d taken a knee. “What happened?”

He understood, logically, that telling Spy damn near anything was a bad idea. He sold information for a living. But logic hadn’t ever been much help to him, and anyways, he was pretty sure he was about to break down either way, and he could either cry like a dumb little baby and Spy could go to the rest of the team and tell them about stupid Scout and his crying for no reason, or he could at least sort of maybe a little bit sound justified and a little bit less completely unhinged.

“We lost all week because I fuckin’ suck at my job, and we don’t get to go off base for some goddamn reason, and I miss my family, and I—“ God damn it, he hoped to at least get to a second sentence before he broke, but here came the waterworks. “—and I know the team doesn’t give a shit, and if they even noticed they probably think I’m being some idiot baby, and I’m just so fuckin’ tired of all of this, alright? I’m just so goddamn exhausted, all the time, and no matter what I do I can’t make my own stupid, shitty, broken-ass brain shut up, and I...”

There was a hand on his shoulder, now. For some reason that’s what unstuck the sob in his throat.

“And I just miss my mom,” he managed, and sobbed again. “And I know that just makes me a stupid fucking baby—“

“Scout, it doesn’t,” Spy said firmly.

“Bullshit.”

A sigh, less exasperated than the others. “Scout, I miss my own parents. Often. Heavy writes to his mother, the Bushman calls home once a week and stays on the phone for an hour at a time. Do you think they would do that if they didn’t miss them?”

Scout couldn’t seem to find his voice, and just sniffled a little.

“If anything, it’s good that you miss your mother. You are appreciating her now, while she’s still part of your life, rather than later on when she’s gone. That’s a good thing.”

“Here I am cryin’ over dumb shit—“

“The fact that you’re even capable of tears shows that you haven’t completely sealed yourself off from your emotions like several of our testosterone-puppet teammates. I’m fairly certain that Medic surgically removed his own tear ducts. I think Soldier is so dehydrated that he’s incapable of it. And rather than sweat he needs to cover himself in liquid-like food products or else he’ll die of heat stroke.”

Despite everything, that made Scout laugh, just a little. More of a hiccup than anything else.

“Admittedly, you have greater social needs than several of our team, and they need to take breaks. Not just from you, but from everyone. It’s part of being human, everyone requires some amount of time alone or else they start losing their minds. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t care about you—value the things you do for this team, even. Every time someone would like company when going in to town for any reason, they always ask me where you are. And you’ve given good film recommendations to everyone except for the Sniper.”

“Guy hates movies,” Scout defended weakly.

“You keep recommending horror films. As it turns out, he is a fan of romantic comedies.”

“Fuckin’ what? Seriously?”

“I was shocked too. His complete lack of taste in all areas of his life continues to amaze me.”

Scout scoffed at that. A beat of silence.

“What I am saying is that the team doesn’t simply put up with you. You’re impossible to simply put up with, you take up too big a part of everyone’s life here. Instead, they must like and respect you.” A pause. “And your father must have truly been an idiot. Anyone with two eyes would be proud of the challenges you’ve faced and overcome with all of the disadvantages you’ve been dealt over your lifetime.”

Scout sniffled, wiped his eyes with his forearm, finally managed to look up at Spy. “Anyone with two eyes? You sayin’ you’re proud of me, then?” he asked, even if it was a little shaky.

“I feel no strong emotions,” Spy deadpanned.

“Alright, nevermind about earlier. That’s the most obvious lie you’ve ever told me.”

Spy rolled his eyes, standing, brushing off the knee of his suit.

Scout looked at the plate, made a face. “Aw man, what the fuck, is that asparagus? Is Medic back on trying to make us eat healthy again?”

“The Engineer cooked it, stop complaining and just eat it,” Spy said, quickly falling back into his role of naggy just on the near side of patronizing.

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been like, mashed potatoes or broccoli or somethin’?”

“You always douse those things in salt and butter. That combined with the energy drinks means you’re going to get a heart condition before I do.”

“Just get the fuck outta my room, Spy,” Scout huffed, putting the stuffed animal aside and moving to pick up the plate and utensils.

“Very well. And go talk to Demoman at some point, he’s been whining about nobody wanting to go get fast food with him for two days,” Spy said as he walked to the door. “And you can’t borrow my car to go.”

“Fuck you, Spy,” Scout said flippantly, waving him off.

“Fuck you too,” Spy said just as casually, and made sure to close the door behind him.

[theworldsoul]

Uhh warning VENT!!! Talks about self harm and shit... also religious bullshit and gender bullshit??? Like I'm really trans and also Catholicism really fucked me up so if ur uncomfy with that just... skip this post. Also if ur Christian and can't handle seeing ur shit defaced then skip this post. Also if ur gonna clown on this post as "cringe atheism" then fuck you because I'm literally coping with pain lol

:readmore:

Anways now that the disclaimer is over... here comes the real shit.

I... have been going through a LOT lately, jesus christ. I was HAPPY today, yknow? I thought I was gonna be happy the whole day.

I was dancing today. That's how happy I was. For the first time in like... a whole year... I was really so happy. I thought I was gonna cry. But then I got home. And well,,,, I did cry. But not from happiness. I just got my math grade back. A fucking 49 percent. MY AVERAGE RIGHT NOW IS A 57 PERCENT. I MIGHT FAIL MATH 20. I MIGHT HAVE TO RETAKE IT. oh my god I'm such a failure I cant do anything ever i try SO fucking hard but honestly??? I cant fucking do this. I can't, I'm not mentally capable. "Just work harder"... BITCH I AM WORKING AS HARD AS I CAN. I AM SPENDING HOURS AND HOURS OF MY LIFE STUDYING AND PRACTICING. I'm starting to think that how hard i try doesn't even fucking matter because I'm STUPID and all i know how to do is PAINT SHIT!!!! NOBODY CARES ABOUT ART!!!! IF I FAIL THIS CLASS I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO HAVE A HOUSE IN THE FUTURE!!!! A HOUSE!!!!!

I dont even want to be a fucking orthodontist. Okay??? I wanna do what I love: painting. But NOOOO. I have to get a "respectable" job that will "pay me enough money to live". WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO MAKE MONEY TO LIVE??? WTF??? THATS LITERALLY SO FUCKED UP. everyone deserves to live (unless they like murdered someone? I guess? Idk) BUT LIKE I DIDNT KILL NO ONE SO WHATS ALL THIS BS ABOUT WORKING TO LIVE???? WTF??? I rly gotta do all this shit I hate, all this shit I'm mentally incapable of doing... so i can have a house. Fuck this. Yknow with my average at a 57... I might fail this class even if I get a really good grade on my next quiz. Can you fucking believe it??? I'm literally so fucking stupid I cant even pass a dumb fucking math class god i hate myself. I cant fail this class. I've NEVER failed a class. Almost failed... but never HAD TO RETAKE A CLASS. that's the ultimate failure. I think my parents would hate me if I failed this.

And on top of that... I'm really struggling with uhhh, dysphoria and body image... and it's so fucking horrible man I want to rip all my skin off I want to suffocate god I want to KILL him I want to MAKE HIM SUFFER. I want to gouge his eyes out and force him to eat them. WHY WOULD HE MAKE ME LIKE THIS????? WHY????? WHATS THE POINT IN MAKING A CHILD SUFFER SO MUCH???

What did I ever do that was so wrong I deserved all this punishment???

Well FUCK YOU and fuck your stupid book and FUCK THESE STUPID FUCKING SAINTS. WASNT THERE SUPPOSED TO BE A WHOLEASS ANGEL WATCHING OVER ME?? PROTECTING ME??? WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT BITCH NOW?? WHERE WAS THAT BITCH WHEN... when I was being bullied? When I literally wanted to kill myself?

Where was that guardian angel when I kept making THE SAME MISTAKE over and over again and I KNEW it was wrong but I kept doing it anyways because it was the only way I could feel like soemone cared about me????

I bet that angel motherufcker KNEW they didnt care. DID THE ANGEL EVER ONCE HELP ME??? NOOOO. all those times I was bruised and broken... all those times...

Man, I was just a kid. I was SO fucking young. And I would come like a lamb to the slaughter and kneel. I would pray... ask for guidance. I would pray the rosary too, I would read the bible and try my very best to understand it, I would go to church and volunteer at church and do my best to be a Good Boy and never sin. I did EVERYTHING right. I literally fasted at some point, like a religious fast. I was devoted...

Honestly though? I think it was the same mistake I make over and over again, except not with a real person.

And you have me NOTHING. GO GIRL, GIVE US NOTHING!!!!!!! I literally used to self-punish for the sins I couldnt bring myself to confess. At my communion, there was one sin I didn't tell because I knew it was unforgivable. I still hate myself for that. But man, I used to try and do all sorts of things to somehow cleanse myself of it. I figured THAT whole ordeal was why I was constantly being tortured.

But I was stupid and I am stupid and that makes NO SENSE because if the thing I'm being punished for happened when I was a child, WHY DID THE PUNISHMENT BEGIN AT MY BIRTH????

They used to tell me that god handcrafted every part of me specifically for some sort of grand reason.

Why.

Really? This bitch really "handcrafted" me just so I could cry and cut myself nearly every night??? Fuck that. Like why would you make me this way. It hurts more than you can IMAGINE. The only reason I'm not dead yet is because of ME, MY strength, not any of the bullshit YOU gave me. I hate when people say "oh, god made u so hardworking" or "oh, god made you so passionate/hopeful/full of love/fiery/whatever" LIKE STFU BITCH THAT WAS NOT SKYDADDY THAT WAS ME!!!

you wanna know what he made me?

dysphoric, ugly af, yeah.... but the worst part?

He made me feel.

That doesn't sound bad, right? Well it's the worst thing on the list. It is my downfall, my Achilles heel or whatever. This emotions shit??? It RUINED my life. My whole life I was cursed with a fucking monster inside me. I kept trying to tell everyone that it wasnt me!!! I kept telling them that it felt like I was being possessed. But adults are SHIT. I hate adults. I want to kill them all. They failed me and their god failed me. None of them every listened to me. All they knew how to do was punish, punish, punish.

It's like giving an allergic kid some peanuts and then getting angry at them for going into anaphylactic shock or whatever. Nobody ever thought "hey, why don't we stop giving the kid peanuts?"

ALL THE ADULTS AROUND ME ACT LIKE CHILDREN AND THEY ALWAYS HAVE ACTED LIKE CHILDREN FUCK ADULTS

Anwyays that's how I ended up with all these unresolved issues,.... emotion is a tough one, like I literally dont have the ability to control my emotions at all, I can try and like, repress them but I cant make myself actually feel less.

My emotion hurts more than anyone else's and nobody ever understood that. I would tell them that it hurts, it PHYSICALLY HURTS, and they would say I just wanted attention. I would tell them I literally couldnt control what my body said and did, I would tell them I felt like A PUPPET ON STRINGS and no one believed me. Fuck them.

Healthy coping mechanisms? I literally self ship with Snape to cope. I literally self ship with characters my brain made up and put in my dreams to cope. I used to hurt myself so much trying to feel loved and cared about irl. Fiction is so much better. I sound like a loser but its TRUE. The sort of thing I need, the sort of love I need is like... a parent. You can't go looking for a parent in a romantic partner, it fucks everything up and you end up... well, let's just say it proabbly wasnt the most legal thing, but I wasnt thinking strisght at all I mean dude I was So fucked in my head when I did all that...whatever...anyways so thank u for fiction!!! I love fiction. Want to kill someone? Draw it. Then you'll feel much better!!! And you dont go to jail!!!

Well the pics here... idk, it was really calming to do this. It's new, painting over religious shit. I was gonna do the whole bible but I already burnt that shit so.... and I was going to cut but I'm trying really hard to stay clean... like really hard. It's so weird and like, addicting, once I hit styro I don't want to stop, but also it kinda transfers the emotional pain to physical pain, making it way easier to deal with. I just can't keep doing that because I KNOW it's bad and look I thoguht I was clean for a whole year but then I fucked up and WOW, GUESS WHAT MADE ME RELAPSE??? MATH CLASS!!!!

Whatever anyways here are my wonderful works of art I made while crying and cursing god (like I'm so pissed at all this catholic bs I believed in him again just to swear at him lol)

.... but imagine for a moment, a better world. One in whcih these saints whose images I've defaced are actually good people... a world in which they SEE ME AND THEY HEAR ME... and I go unpunished.... and I am embraced by someone who UNDERSTANDS.

I think I would cry.

Too bad that world doesnt exist and I just made it up to try and feel a bit better. Whatever, whatever. I painted the things, they're gonna dry. I work hard, I'm gonna do good on my quiz, I hope. I just have to be making it through, that's all it is, work work work without a break but I can proabbly do it. I'm really slipping I admit like the mental health is slipping it's getting worse like I havent had a "fuck I am afab" moment in such a long time so yeah...

Anwyays I feel so much better now that I did my little art project yknow???

[nona-gay-simus-main]

Top 10 Worst Tropes in Romance - Part 2

Disclaimer: This is MY opinion, you do you.

Part 1: Here

1. The Child Partner

I’m not talking about literal children, because duh. What I mean is the a person who needs their partner to emotionally parent them.

Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like the whole point of a romantic relationship is to be with an equal. You’re supposed to be teammates, best friends, and lovers.

Of course, I'm not including cases where one partner is disabled or chronically/mentally ill and needs the other to take care of them - that’s an entirely separate thing. 

I'm referring to people (usually cishet men), who constantly need their partner to manage their moods and emotions. They always have some ~trauma~ to manipulate the partner into staying in the relationship in order to keep reassuring them, confirming their self-esteem, and even doing their cooking and cleaning, as if they aren't abled adults with two functioning hands.

That shit sucks!

Imagine doing that for someone all the time and then also trying to have a kid (or multiple kids) with that person. Not only will you be taking care of your actual child; but also - your partner-child. Stop normalizing lazy, emotionally stunted men. That shit ain't cut no matter how hard his abs are or how big his dick is.

2. “I’ve been in love with you since the first moment we met.”

I don’t know what it is about this trope, but it shows up in many romances and it always makes me uncomfortable. How the hell are you supposed to react to that? 

Oh, you’ve been in love with me since the first time we met? Yikes, my dude.

You can’t even fall in love with someone that fast anyway. You're not in love with the person, you’re in love with your idea of them!

The only acceptable version of this is the one where it’s more along the lines “I thought I might fall in love with you if I spent any more time with you.” But other than that, I really don't understand why this is a thing?

3. Lust = Love

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a prude. I’m perfectly fine with couples who have loads and loads of sex. I’m also perfectly fine with casual sex and friends-with-benefits and any other consensual arrangement between adults.

I just get tripped up when pretty much all a couple does is have sex. They have little in common outside of sex, spend little time together when not having sex, and don’t share any hobbies, interests or even conversation topics. Or worse, when they aren’t having sex, they’re fighting. 

If you want your characters to get laid, that’s cool. But if you want me to believe they are also falling in love - you’re gonna have to try a little harder.

4. BDSM = Abuse

Yes, abuse happens under the pretense of BDSM, but BDSM is NOT inherently abusive. It only happens within pre-established boundaries and safe words and with explicit consent. The only people who claim it's abuse, are people who have a vested interest in controlling what women and queer people do with our bodies.

So I really, really hate it when people use “It’s just BDSM, don’t be so uptight” to justify their rapey, abusive love interest’s actions. If the submissive has not already consented, or their consent was obtained through manipulation or intoxication - it’s not meaningful consent.

BDSM is a lot more complex than some of the simplistic catchphrases we use to explain it to the vanillas, and we can discuss those complexities for hours, but at the one thing is definitely true - the Dominant only has as much power as the submissive is willing to give. If they (knowingly) cross a boundary or take power without the consent of the submissive, it’s not power exchange, it’s abuse, pure and simple.

5. "All women want him. All men want to be him"

Really? ALL women? Are you sure?

I hate to tell you this, but some women are exclusively attracted to other women. And some women aren’t attracted to anyone. Some women have low libidos, and some women just don’t prioritize sex and relationships for whatever reason. And some women are in happy, fulfilling monogamous relationships already.

And all men want to BE him? Did you know that some men are attracted to other men? They might want a piece of that too. Or perhaps, they just don’t value being some alpha douchebag and are happy to be their much better-adjusted self. That's a thing.

Can we let this cliché die already? Please?

6. Giving up your dreams for ~love~.

Oh man, this is the worst! And why is it nearly always the woman, who has to make a choice between her career and ~~~LoVe~~?

So many books/movies etc. start with this powerful career woman and then by the end reduce her to nothing but a trophy to her man. That’s not feminist, it just keeps perpetuating the same tired gender roles.

And I can’t help but think about the future of this relationship. What if it doesn’t work out? Then the partner who the dreams were given up for looks like a jerk, even if they never asked for this.

And even if it works out, the partner who gave up their dream job, or opportunity, or whatever, will always have this “what if” at the back of their mind. Over time, they may even end up resenting their SO, especially if things don’t work out for them career-wise.

Just such a bad trope all around. It’s not romantic, it’s toxic, and co-dependant and I want it to stop.

7. He treats everyone like crap ***but you***.

You know the limitus test to see if someone’s a good person? Look at how they treat people who are “beneath” them. Their servers, the cleaning lady, etc.

If this guy treats servers like crap, treats his friends and family like crap, treats everyone like crap, except for the person whose pants he wants to get in (or wants to keep getting in for the foreseeable future), why are we romanticizing him? He’s a selfish jackass.

You can have a grumpy (but ultimately caring and good-natured) character, that's fine. But if he only treats people like humans when it benefits him - that's not sexy, that's sociopathic.

8. Love Cures All

Ahhh, the worst of them all. Truly, having a character who suffers from mental illness or has a major trauma, but oh look, they got some cuddles from the love interest and now they are all good!

Just stop, please. It’s so damaging to the people who are going through this, to tell them that all they need to feel better is ~~~LoVe~~~. And if they aren’t getting better? Well, they just haven’t gotten enough ~~~LoVe~~~!

It’s also damaging to the partner - no one should have this much responsibility on their shoulders.

Obviously, the love of a partner, friends, and family can HELP with the healing process, but it’s not enough by itself. Get them some goddamn therapy, please.

9. Accidental Pregnancy

I don’t know about you, but for most people I know, myself included, accidental pregnancy would be an absolute nightmare, not something romantic.

Do you know how bad my entire generation is doing financially? And people use this as a plot device to strengthen the relationship?

Also, relationships get weaker after having a child, not stronger. Babies are cute when they are sleeping, the rest of the time they are crying, screaming messes. Yeah, why wouldn’t sleep deprivation and constantly hurting everywhere strengthen your relationship? 🙄🙄🙄

10. Violent Men

IRL, violent men are scary, not sexy. Even if the violence is never directed at the love interest, chances are that over time it will be. But even if it’s not, why would you ever want to date someone who has the emotional maturity of a pre-schooler?

Because after pre-school, kids tend to learn to solve their problems with their words. But I guess your love interest hasn’t matured past the age of 6, which coincidentally also leads back to the first trope on this list. Charming.

[bewareofchris]

Writing advice on How to write an interesting antagonist, please?

sorry about the day-late reply.  I’d like to say that I was thinking up a really good answer but also my sinuses are trying to kill me.

OK, so there are a few key points that you should remember when it comes an interesting antagonist.  (These will be listed in no particular order.)

Purpose: what sort of antagonist do you need?  If you’re writing a rom-com you don’t need a supervillain.  

C o n v i c t i o n.  This means that whatever your antagonist is doing to hinder your story/protag it needs to come from the POV of a person who is trying to accomplish something.  Any antagonist who only exists to say mean things to your character without any sort of personal goal will fall flat in the long run.  Yes, it might really hurt if you get stabbed in the back by Laughing McMeanpants but if McMeanpants is just doing it to be a bother and gains nothing it just seems pointless.  

A fully developed Character.  I know this one seems almost obvious but here me out.  We spend a lot of time with our protagonists.  We love them.  We sometimes throw them into pits full of salt-covered razor blades but that comes from a place of love.  I’m not saying that you have to love your antagonist to successfully have one, but you should try it.  The most interesting antagonists are the ones that are only wrong by virtue of being on the losing side?  Like, they have SUCH A GOOD POINT and SUCH VALID reasons for doing what they are doing that you almost, a little bit, kind of want them to win.  (There are also the sort of antagonists that just want to watch the world burn and those you don’t want to win but you still sort of root for when nobody’s looking because they are a force of nature.)  Let your Antagonist has a life.  A history.  Loved ones.  Interests.  Hobbies.  Favorite foods.  A day job?  Petty rivalries.  Accomplishments.  Weaknesses that aren’t just used for destroying them.  Random skills like whistling and that weird tongue-folding thing people do.

A REASONABLE LEVEL OF POWER FOR YOUR STORY’S SETTING.  Look, as much as I love a good ol’team up for the win story, if you’ve given your antagonist the literal power of the gods, you’re not really making him work for it are you?  Maybe what’s interesting about your antagonist is that they did work their ass off to be where they are?  Maybe whatever power they had didn’t come naturally.  People are a lot more likely to defend something they had to scratch, claw, bite and kill to get then they are something that was just given to them?  And who doesn’t secretly want the guy who had to spend 20 years collecting gemstones while being laughed at by the village virgins and sleeping in shit to win when he’s up against The Golden Child who Happened To Find A Dragon Egg?  

Self Worth and Ego. Nobody considers themselves the villain of their own story.  They probably don’t sit around drinking their wine being like, whose such an evil boy?  I’m such an evil boy.  They’re out there being like: what the hell is wrong with Johnny Goodguy?  WHY IS HE SO ANNOYING.  And or they’re super stressed, forgetting to wash their hair in the shower, trying to figure out how to out think Johnny Goodguy.  If both your protag and antagonist aren’t literally furious about the other one always doing something wrong, you’re not being fair to one of them. 

Consistency.   Don’t fall into that trap where the antagonist twirls their mustache while talking about sawing James Bond in half but leaves him unattended because he’s squeamish I guess?  If your antagonist is the sort of person whose going to saw someone in half, he’s probably he sort of person whose going to stick around and make sure it gets done right.  If you do not want your antagonist to win, do not set up a practically inescapable trap and then have your protag escape because of negligence.  RESPECT YOUR ANTAGONIST.  They have a giant saw machine for a reason.  It’s because they use it.  They probably also have an incinerator in the basement!  If Jimmy wants to escape he better be the most clever person alive or JUST NOT GET CAUGHT.

Let’s repeat that last bit: Respect your antagonist.  Even if your protagonist hates him.  Even if antagonist is REVOLTING.  Even if he is a murderous baby killer out here eating newborn and puppy soup for breakfast while cheating on his taxes and cutting to the front of the Starbucks line, he is USELESS as a villain/antagonist if you aren’t taking him seriously.  If your antagonist is just there to make your protag feel bad with quippy insults, then your protag needs to feel bad when he sees them.  If your antagonist is out here destroying planets, people need to be afraid of him.  And not like, oh he’s so bad but I guess I’ll just kill him anyway because i”m the hero and I fear nothing.  Bravery is not the absence of fear.  Having your badass protagonist not care just undermines the worth of your antagonist.

Now, how to put these to use in the story very much depends on what sort of antagonist that you’re using, how important they are to the story and how much time you’re putting into it/how long it is.  A 2k rom-com with a one-off a-hole doesn’t really need as much devotion as a 200k epic sci-fi fantasy thriller.  

But some quick suggestions:

Gossip. A well placed bit of gossip about the antagonist of your choice is an excellent method of adding in a sprinkle of backstory without having to listen to a villain-ish monologue.  And it doesn’t even have to be outright backstory?  It can just be fun things like, “i bet he’s the kind of guy that eats baby turtles” “he eats oranges with he peels on.” “His ex-wife moved to Alaska to get away from him.” “Not even a blind dog would lick his hand.”  You know, general impressions of his character that indicate he is universally disliked.

Begrudging Compliments/Unintentional Acts of Kindness Think of “i hate that guy but you gotta admit he draws Lisa Frank tigers better than Lisa Frank.”  Or “everyone was going to get fired because nobody finished this work project but Asshole K Asshole showed up at the last minute and finished it so we’re all still here.”  MAKE YOUR PROTAG HAVE TO THANK YOUR ANTAGONIST AND IT’S ALL THE MORE REASON TO HATE THEM.

An acceptable level of villain, progressing from smallest to largest Remember the way to build dread/suspense/fear is to always leave room to get worse.  Do not, I BEG YOU, do NOT start off your antagonist by making them the most unreasonable/over the top/absolutely most violent thing you can imagine?  Do not show up to a casual drink party with a fire-starting child killer edgelord drinking blood out of a can while shouting slurs at minorities and proclaiming himself king of the universe.  Maybe he just shows up to the party looking arrogant, and belligerently dismisses your protag while effortlessly making everyone like him more?  And then later he starts setting things on fire.  Like at the end of the story.  Set a starting place (minimally shocking but morally unacceptable action) and an ending place (shocking but not surprising and morally reprehensible/repugnant/just like the worst action(s)).

He’s enjoying himself/but also it’s a hassle.  People like winning.  Everyone likes winning.  It doesn’t even matter what you’re winning.  A popularity contest?  Control over the universe?  Soccer?  You’re winning, it’s great, you like it.  It’s a high, you want to keep it, and while you’re there why not rub it in a little that you’re like FANTASTIC.  So Antagonist, whose on top because he’s a fucking winner?  He’s going to enjoy it, and he’s going to want to hang onto that sweet sweet winner kool-aid as long as he can.  But there’s a price to literally being driven to win/hang onto that and it’s exhaustion.  Constantly having to stay in power requires constantly having to mutate to fit the needs of being powerful.  It’s not one-and-done because as soon as you are winning someone’s offended by it and they are coming to take your throne.  Even the people who are riding your coattails are expecting something from you.  And if you’ve used fear to get where you are, you have to maintain that level of fear at all times which means constantly showing up being all threatening and unpleasant.  These things are exhausting.  A man’s got to sleep and he can’t sleep well when he’s having to cut off his lackey’s fingers every other day so people now he’s a Bad Dude.  And now he’s got Protag to deal with?  MY GOD WILL IT EVER END.  Balance your antagonist’s joy at succeeding with his very real physical and emotional limitations.  Don’t let him have effortless control over whatever power he has, let there be cracks all through the base of his empire.  Let just a smidgen of doubt sneak in.  (Maybe he’s on steroids.  I bet he cheats at cards.  Nobody’s that big of a dick all the time.  His Mom cannot be happy about him.)

Always, always, always maintain that your Antagonist COULD FAIL A lot of time is spent in stories building up your hero so he’s big enough to defeat whatever’s standing in his way.  One of the methods of doing that is by comparing him to the Bigger, Badder, usually Better/More Powerful Antagonist.  This creates a lovely structure for super heroes that gets very old very quick.  You don’t need to climb the oldest mountain in the world to retrieve the Pearl of Wisdom and Good Teeth to finally have enough Inner Peace to lose your braces after 11 years so you can defeat the high school bully.  Create an antagonist that is Bad and In Your Way but also human-enough (or equivalent) to be defeated.  You NEVER have to say this outright in the story.  You just have to remember in writing him that he isn’t the Most Powerful Thing To Live.  Even if people call him the Most Powerful Thing To Live, throw in the idea that he’s only the most powerful right now.  That he had to defeat someone to be the most powerful, and that shows that eventually something will defeat him.  If your antagonist isn’t having to work to stay where he’s at, he’s boring.

In summary:

Antagonist need character.  A full character with strengths/weaknesses/backstory/goals.  They need to fully want those goals and be willing to work as hard as your hero to get it.  They need to truly believe they have the right to their goal and/or that their goal is the RIGHT ONE.  You need to respect your antagonist as if he were your protagonist and not write him as a crazy-faced crazypants to make your Hero look good.  Antagonists have physical and emotional limitations.  They will react according to their developed Character.  Do not make them lazy/negligent at the last moment to save your hero.  And you should love them, just a little, not because they’re good people but because they’re your baby.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-Six

Table of Content or Part Twenty-Five

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Thank you, everyone, who have been patient over this update with me over the past couple weeks. I hope you like this chapter and I'm getting back into my regular posting schedule now. I love y'all, have a good night!

Warning(s): Language, Drug Abuse, Sexual Situations

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

-------------------------------------------------------

He gets up off the floor, leaving me with cum on my stomach as he pulls his clothes back on in complete silence.

"Are we still not talking?" I ask him, sitting up.

He doesn't reply, stepping to the bathroom, coming back with a rag and dropping it beside me on the floor.

I let out a breath, taking the cloth and wiping myself clean with it.

"We just had sex, Nikki." I scoff, my eyes beginning to water. "We've screwed a lot, actually. And it's been you to initiate it every time, which made me think we're okay. But after the second time of being randomly screwed and still living in silence with my husband, I've realized you're still mad at me." I explain, pulling my shirt back on as he ties the laces of his pants. "If you're waiting for me to apologize for how I acted, I'm not going to. What I did and why, was completely justified." I continue. "And it happened nearly two weeks ago."

He brushes me off, sliding back in to his jacket after getting his boots back on.

"You're seriously not speaking to me? For two weeks?" I ask, crossing my arms and he grabs his keys off the counter and walks to the door. "Yeah just ignore me and run from our marital issues to get fucked up because that's one of the few things you can actually do right." I shoot, the vile words fleeing my mouth before I can stop them and he pauses, his hand on the door knob. "Alongside shooting up, writing music and fucking me when you feel like it."

He doesn't even acknowledge I said anything, opening the door and shutting it behind him, leaving me to wipe a few tears away bitterly.

He was shitty to me sometimes, yes, but I never helped matters.

I'd push him just enough to get the reaction I wanted, and he'd do the same to me.

That's how we started off, hating each other, and that's all a small part of us knew how to act towards each other.

We didn't realize we were slowly poisoning each other because the apparent healing, although temporary, was potent.

He collapses on top of me, our sweat slickened bodies sticking together, my fingers laced through his teased hair while my legs are wrapped around his hips.

His face is in my neck while he catches his breath, and I hug him to me, my eyes closed as I wait for him to roll off of me.

"I hate fighting with you, but fuck...making up is..." He mumbles out, smirking as he gets off of me.

I take a few deep breaths and sit up, dabbing the thin sheen of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, feeling his fingers trail up and down my spine.

I reach behind me and grasp his hand in mine, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before getting up to go shower.

By the time I get to the bathroom, his cum is spilling out of me and down my legs, and I glance down and roll my eyes at myself.

"You're gonna get knocked up again." I mumble to myself, scoldingly, before reaching to turn the water in the shower on.

Once I'm out, I air dry due to lack of clean towels, and ring my hair out over the sink.

Stepping out once I'm finished, I collide with Robbin, who just got back in for the night, and he looks down at me before raising his brows and looking upward to the ceiling.

"Jesus, Viv." He complains, laughing nervously.

"Don't cream your pants like you've never seen a naked woman before." I impatiently push past him.

"Well, I try to avoid seeing my best friend's wife naked."

"I'm his girlfriend, remember?"

I'm shutting the door of the bedroom before he can answer, a sharp, bitter smell infiltrating my senses.

Nikki's asleep with a tourniquet on his bicep, and a needle discarded on to the floor next to a spoon.

A strong need to put my hands on him and pray for him is almost compelling enough to make me do it, but I dig my heels into the carpet to keep myself in place.

"He's got it handled." I tell God, defiantly. "Nikki's got it handled."

I put the cap back on his needle, setting it on the bedside table alongside his spoon and lighter, pulling the turnequet off of him as well.

Pulling the covers over him, I kiss his forehead and get clothes on, crawling into the bed beside him.

I should've prayed for him more, but he already thought I was a lunatic for believing in God, which is why I found it hilarious when I found out Vanity constantly badgered him about Jesus and church, and they fought as much as Nikki and I did over pointless things.

Apparently he had realized rather quickly that Vanity and I were the same person. Only difference was she was on crack—which made her crazier than Rabid Bitch Vivian could ever be.

I sat in the rehab center's provided marriage counseling session with him laughing so hard I was doubled over my pregnant stomach, crying.

"What the hell was the point of having a girlfriend on the side, if she wasn't an escape from our hellhole marriage? At least when I cheated it was with someone that brought me peace and a sense of healing." Is what I had told him once I calmed down.

He was so fucked up on drugs that he didn't even know how to cheat right.

"I could go with you, you know." I say to Nikki as he sloppily tosses a few T-shirt's and a pair of leather pants onto the bed along with a couple other things he's packing.

He ignores me, and I cross my arms and lean against the open door frame, in a shirt of his, my hair messy from previous sex and my mind exhausted from the day.

But I won't sleep tonight.

"I want to go with you." I re-word my words and he exhales heavily, but doesn't even give me a glance.

"Viv, I'll be gone a couple days. Not two years."

"It's not even about being away from you, Nikki." I argue softly. "It's your mom. The last time you saw her you'd just gotten her arrested. I just think it'd be better if you had someone there to support you or—"

"I don't need to be babied or coddled."

"This is a big deal, though."

"Okay, listen." He tells me, stepping to me, his hands on either side of my face, looking me in the eye. "I know this seems like a big deal to you. But it's not. This isn't gonna be a heart-felt reunion where I cry and she cries and we say 'sorry' and have a healthy relationship after this. I'm not gonna have some big revelation and realize being mad at her isn't healthy and just forgive and forget." He explains to me and I breathe out as his thumb rubs back and forth on my cheek. "I'm checking her out, taking her home, and never fucking seeing her again. I don't need support, I don't need a shoulder to cry on, I don't need you to come with me."

My hands rest over the tops of his, my eyes studying his.

"Okay, Nikki." I nod. "But I'm worried, too." I let out and he pushes himself away from me and sounds out a noise of frustration.

"It's not that serious, Viv." He groans, rolling his eyes.

"I just don't want you having a mental breakdown while you're gone." I admit and he looks at me, holding back a laugh, grasping my hand to pull me to him and hug me tightly.

"I'll be gone for three days at the most. I won't have time to have a mental breakdown." He promises, his lips pressing to my hair as I get tears on his shirt from where my face is laid against his chest.

"That's a long time." I argue hoarsely, letting out another round of tears and he rubs his hand up and down my back soothingly.

"You're not knocked up are you?" He randomly asks, his thumbs wiping under my eyes to discard any tears.

"No." I lightly hit his chest, cracking a small smile. "I just miss you."

"Viv, I'm here." He laughs loudly, seeming to be getting a kick out of me wanting to be around him this much.

He goes to pull away from me but I cement my arms around him and he lets out a "hmph" at my tight hold.

"Just give me, like, five more minutes." I say lowly and he obliges with a light sigh, holding me as tightly as I am him.

An unhealthy, co-dependent coping mechanism I struggled with was anchoring my feelings, expectations and mood to Nikki

If Nikki was angry, I was angry. If Nikki was hurting, I was hurting. If he was happy, I was happy. And if he wanted to fight, I wanted to fight.

Towards the end of 1984, I had begun to feel unfulfilled and just not myself anytime he wasn't around for days on end.

It was like I didn't know how to be happy without seeing him at least a few times a day, even if we were being mean to each other when he was around.

That terrified me once his drug use went up through the next couple of years and he was either crying like a lost child or barking and pointing his finger in my face but I was just grateful to be around him, regardless.

Nona had called him in October of '84 to inform him his mother was checked in to a mental health facility and his plan was to check her out, take her to his half-sister and then come back home and continue preparing for the new album, whose title was then deemed, "Entertainment Death."

I thought it was pretty fitting.

"I'll call as soon as I get to Cici's house, alright?" He promises, grabbing his bag and stepping to the front door.

"Alright." I nod, following behind him.

He turns to face me, his hand grasping at my jaw lightly, making me look directly at him.

"Be good. Stay out of trouble. Don't kill Vince." He tells me.

"Be good. Stay out of trouble. Don't kill your mom." I reply in the same tone and he smirks.

"I hear ya." He scoffs, kissing me one last time before pulling away.

I wanted to say: "don't kill yourself." But we'd just made up and he started talking to me again the week before and I didn't want to start back up again.

I'm in bed later that night when a knock at the front door draws my attention.

It's only eight o'clock, which means Robbin certainly isn't back home yet, and I assume Tommy and Vince are already up to their stupid antics on the strip, so I pull the covers back and step to the door, pleasantly surprised to see the guest at my doorstep.

"Hi." Sharise greats me sheepishly, dressed to the nines in a light pink, short dress that hugs the right places, with her blonde hair looking like a perfectly groomed lion's mane.

"Um, hey." I reply, not use to seeing her without Vince.

We've never had girl to girl time before.

Tansy's the only girl friend I've got.

"I was gonna head out with Vince and Tommy but Vince said something about Nikki leaving town for a little bit and I decided we could spend some time together without the boys." She suggests. "If that's okay with you."

It's evident she needs a break from her fiancé, and Tommy.

"What did you have in mind?" I ask.

"Well..."

One thing about Sharise: she was an all-time pick-me-up, and solid as a rock, no matter what.

I don't know if it's because she wasn't constantly high on something or buzzed on strong liquor, or because she was just a nice girl, but anytime I needed a slice of gravity, she'd want to hang out and she never disappointed.

We step out of the car, our heels clicking against pavement of the parking lot as we make our way to the building.

Black Angus steak house is pretty busy tonight, the Friday night buzz of people filling the restaurant.

"It'll be a twenty minute wait." The hostess tells us. "What's a good name?" She asks, about to write it on her paper pad.

"Sixx." I tell her and she raises her brows.

"Uh, you know what, give us a couple minutes and we'll have you a table." She tells me, leaving us for a moment.

"Is she...?" Sharise asks, nudging me with her elbow and I think a moment.

"No, a table probably came up last minute." I tell her, not believing I'm getting special treatment simply based off Nikki's name.

She's back in a moment, grabbing a couple menus from the hostess stand.

"Right this way, Mrs. Sixx." She motions for the two of us to follow her.

She sits us at a table.

"Your waiter will be with you momentarily. Enjoy your evening with us." She tells us before walking away.

"'Table came up last minute' my ass, Mrs. Sixx." Sharise mimics. "Hell, I'm gonna start calling myself a Neil if they're already getting special treatment."

"Might as well. He's already marrying you." I reply, looking over the menu. "How did you manage to get him to settle down so quickly, by the way?"

"Because I'm pregnant."

I choke on air, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Found out last week." She explains. "We're having a small ceremony and then when I have the baby and we have more money we'll have a big dream wedding."

"As long as I don't look like a cupcake in bridesmaid form, I'm fine." I comment and she waves her hand dismissively.

"You won't." She assures me.

But she did.

She had all of her bridesmaids in hot, neon pink dresses that were so tight around our thighs we could barely walk, and had pouffy light pink tulle fluffed out around our knees with hot pink fabric flowers sewed to it.

All the groomsmen found it funny, especially Nikki and Tommy, until she pulled out the matching hot pink sashes they had to wear to compliment our dresses.

To make matters worse, I couldn't even get out the damn thing and Nikki had to cut me out of it with his pocket knife in the bathroom.

"You ladies decided what you want to drink?" The waitress asks.

"Pepsi." I state without hesitation.

"Water with lemon." Sharise tells her.

"Alright, any appetizers?"

"Cheese fries." Sharise puts in, and I agree with a small nod.

"Okay, I'll get that in for you and be right back with your drinks." She walks away.

"Can I ask you about something?" Sharise says next and I raise my brows. "I know they dated a little while in high school, but what happened with Vince and Tansy?"

"Why?"

"Well, I just...I like her, she's really nice but I feel like I shouldn't be friends with his ex...right?"

I just blink and shake my head a little.

"They dated a couple years when we were fourteen and just...mutually decided it had run it's course."

It wasn't a complete lie. They had decided it had run it's course when Tansy was informed Vince got another girl in our grade pregnant and she didn't feel the need to play stepmom at the age of sixteen.

"Oh." She replies as the waitress hands us our drinks, assuring us our appetizer would be out in a second. "So, you would say he's a good guy?" She asks and I exhale.

"I think your intuition already answered that for you. You just ignored it." I play it off with a chuckle to sugar coat the reality, and she just smiles it off.

"Alright, cheese fries?" A familiar voice says and I look up to see the guy that knocked me on my ass in the street over a month ago.

He recognizes me and nearly drops the plate, becoming a little clumsy.

"Sorry." He chuckles, setting the plate between us. "How's your knee?"

"Scarred a little bit." I inform him and he scrunches his face a little.

"Sorry." He says again, sincerely.

"Have you found your band yet?"

"No, not yet. Some people have come and gone but nothing's really stuck."

"How quick do you get off?" I ask.

"Depends on if I'm by myself or with a chick." He replies without hesitation, an obvious joke that has my face burning bright red underneath my makeup.

"I meant work. How soon do you get off from work?" I correct myself.

"I know, and an hour."

"Okay, I'll wait up for you and we can talk about it some more." I reply. "I might be able to help you out."

"Alright." He smiles. "See you later."

When he walks away, I get a fry off the plate and take a bite out of it, noticing Sharise is staring at me.

"What?" I ask, grinning awkwardly because she's looking at me weirdly.

"Who was that?"

"Duff."

"Who?"

I already know what she's thinking and I shake my head.

"It's not like that." I defend myself.

"Are you sure?"

"Sharise, we're barely acquaintances."

"You're helping him."

"Through my husband's connections. Remember my husband, Nikki? I have one of those, you know."

"I'm just picking at you." She tells me softly. "Really though what does he do. Sing, drums, triangle..?"

"Bass." I tell her and she widens her eyes at me. "I will hit you."

"I'm not saying a thing." She shrugs, trying not to laugh.

Once we're done ordering our meals, eating until we're full, and paying the ticket, we grab our purses and step into the parkinglot to her car.

Just as we get out the door, Duff's waiting for me, smoking a cigarette.

"Have you found anyone...at all?" I ask him, trying not to sound doubtful of his ability to find his dream team.

"One, kinda." He replies. "A guitar player."

"Okay, well, I can check with Nikki and the guys and see if they know anybody that would be any good." I suggest.

"Well, actually, I was gonna see if I could do it on my own, you know?"

"Okay. Good luck." I shrug, about to walk away until he catches my wrist.

"W-Wait." He stops me and I raise my brows at him, glancing at his hand that has yet to let go of me.

He quickly catches on and drops my wrist, opening his mouth and closing it again before stumbling to find the words.

He's unsuccessful, nonsense leaving his lips and a pained expression on his face before he sighs and chuckles, rubbing his forehead.

"I don't know what the hell I'm trying to say." He admits, groaning a little.

I take a pen from my purse and scribble our phone number on to his hand.

"Call me when you figure it out and we'll talk then." I offer, innocently, not giving it a second thought.

"Thanks." He examines the fresh ink on the back of his hand.

"Have a good night, Duff." I tell him, giving him one last smile before grabbing Sharise's hand, walking across the parking lot to her car.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 225: Interview with a Vampire

Previously on BnHA: The Shigaraki Squad (after some debate) set out to rescue Giran from the Liberation Army’s clutches. Tomura plans to sic Gigantomachia on them, although the guy is still a-snooze for the next two and a half hours, so who even knows how that’s gonna work. Anyways though, the rest of the gang, Dabi included (over his protests), arrived at the designated meeting location in Aichi prefecture to be greeted by none other than Slidin’ Go, because apparently you can’t fucking trust anyone nowadays. He led them to the center of the town, which turned out to be populated by members of Re-Des’s army, including his top brass. Everyone attacked at once, and the League set to work kicking ass and not even bothering to take names because they’re just gonna kill everyone anyway so who cares! The chapter ended with Toga gettin’ ready to throw down with Kizuki, a.k.a. my new badass lady villain fave who can blow shit up with her mind, holy crap.

Today on BnHA: The Liberation Army continues to battle the League, confident in their eventual win, mostly because Re-Destro has somewhat smugly deduced that the League currently has no Noumu to spare. Kizuki, who is apparently a journalist, faces off against Toga and hounds her with questions about her past. Seems she’s specifically the type of journalist that likes to harass people about all of the most personal and private details of their lives. Toga sets to work stabbing all of Kizuki’s redshirt goons and sucking their blood, but this winds up backfiring as Kizuki makes brutal use of her quirk to blow up said blood. So basically she explodes Toga from the inside out. Somehow Toga doesn’t fucking die, and although I Have Questions About This, we can save that for later since the story is moving forward with or without my suspension of disbelief, and next up on the agenda is a motherfucking Toga flashback, folks.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 226, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

hahaha

welcome to Deika City, population: villains

holy heck

so that’s how it is, huh Horikoshi. just make all of my jokes for me before I ever even get the chance. who cares if the references are American. it’s 2019 and our mangaka are international now. next up is Homestuck jokes. I feel attacked

anyway so we’re zooming in on the observation tower again. how nice. is Giran fucking dead yet I wonder

oh hey

not only is he not dead, he’s smiling and taunting RD in spite of having recently lost a hand piece by piece!

you guys. Giran is legit the most OG motherfucker in this entire series, dead to rights. I adore him

and he can’t say he wouldn’t love to watch all that unfold

by the way, getting back to that earlier panel for a second, it occurs to me that of the three “rescue” arcs we’ve had thus far, only one has featured an actual damsel, and that was a baby damsel at that. like, a six-year-old girl. so like, that was more about her being a small child than her being female. and meanwhile the “damsels” in the other two arcs consisted of (a) the toughest motherfucker in class 1-A, and now (b) the most hardboiled fucking guy in the entire series. and by contrast, female characters have played critical roles in all three arcs on the rescuing side, and now we’re about to see two lady villains fucking throw down

like, I know I give Horikoshi a lot of shit for not having more badass female characters, but a lot of that is because BnHA honest to god is a cut above most other shounen manga to begin with when it comes to feminism. and it just makes me want it to be even better, because I know it could be

god, I can’t wait to be reading manga like 20 years from now, though, when Japan is (hopefully) finally a bit more woke

anyway I went on a tangent there didn’t I. so yeah, Giran. MVP

holy shit

son of a bitch can we just take a moment to appreciate how good the villain of this villain arc has been so far, though? like, he’s straight up evil, but not in an obnoxious way like Stain or Overhaul. this piece of shit knows what he’s doing and is cold blooded as fuck and actually seems to have a plan! I hate him and he’s been awesome so far

anyway so here’s his three reasons then

brb just gonna :| about that a bit, and also wonder why the fuck we apparently don’t have anyone this smart on the heroes’ side. except Hawks, maybe. goddamn

although he’s slightly off the mark there though, isn’t he! it’s astounding to me how much these villains -- and well, everyone really, except Bakugou Fucking Katsuki -- are underestimating All for One, though. like, they really think he’s gone for good. Overhaul was out there trying to become the new kingpin, and now RD is smugly monologuing about how the weapons All for One left behind are all gone and the League has no remaining assets left. well, a month and a half ago you wouldn’t have been wrong, RD. but things have changed now pal

and shouldn’t he know about Gigantomachia, though? even the heroes know about that one. if they were spying on the League with a fucking satellite, wouldn’t they have noticed the giant boulder man continuously trying to crush Tomura for two-day stretches at a time??

you guys it’s going to be so fucking satisfying when Tomura crushes this jackass though

and we’ve got some very interesting quirks going on here! someone here seems to have a targeting scope, and they’re firing a fucking laser from their mouth like fucking shoop da whoop lmao

and then there’s that one dude about to throw a fucking Volvo at everyone. and lots of elemental quirks, and one guy who seems to look weirdly similar to Kurogiri. it’s like a fucking Where’s Waldo of villains though

what in the hot hell

??? !?!?

oh I see. so it’s exactly what it looked like

(ETA: but you guys why does it remind me of this:

?????)

Spinner what the fuck is your quirk!?!?

now we’re cutting back to Kizuki yesssssssssssss

she says that all of the army’s soldiers have undergone daily training. oh wow, whoopty freaking doo. good for you guys. so like every other character in this series, then

these “late starters” are going to whoop your ass and I’m so freaking here for it

oh dear

well there goes a great deal of my fondness for Kizuki straight out the fucking door. asshole journalists are pretty high up there on my list of types of people that I hate

(ETA: you know what though, I like that she has a unique personality. even if it’s one that annoys me. she doesn’t just blend in, unlike some other villains I could name (there were eight of them, and they were named after Buddhist precepts, hint hint). plus she really does have the best quirk in the business. Kizuki you’re a real piece of work but I respect you dammit.)

anyway Toga so whose ass do you want to kick first. you got this girl I believe in you

:DDDDDDDD

probably shouldn’t be loudly cheering at this man’s extremely gruesome murder. and yet. here we are

lmaoooooooooooo

while you were talking my girl up and absconded hahaha

friendly reminder that Toga Himiko is like #9 on my list of favorite characters and I would kill for her! I stan one (1) fearless bloodthirsty bitch

wow

all right, geez! fuck, y’all are real sensitive about a little attempted murder

so now Kizuki is asking Toga what kind of life she’s led to end up like this

I honestly want for nothing more than for Toga to have not had any sort of tragedy in her young life whatsoever, and to just be Like That. please. Horikoshi. this better be good

(ETA: it’s mostly good! we’re fine.)

anyway so Toga’s crashing through some stunt glass in the front window of some janky little bar, and skidding to her feet because she’s amazing and won’t let a little thing like being flung through a storefront window stop her

but as she skids, Kizuki is telling her to watch her step and Toga’s looking behind her, startled

oh fuck

joke’s on you, Toga’s amazing and won’t let a little thing like being blown to bits stop her

...right?

(ETA: lol)

interesting that the word “superpower” was used again here instead of “quirk”! what the hell do these guys have against that word anyway. I get that they’re following Destro who laid down the law in his book which is basically their personal bible, but that shit was like 200 years ago though. ah well, cults are weird

anyway so her quirk is Legit though, ngl. what can I say, I have a weakness for quirks that go boom

haha so Toga is fucking fine apparently and she’s sitting there kind of smoking a little and looks a little singed but otherwise not too worse for wear

there’s about half a dozen people attacking her from all sides, though. one of them is carrying a giant stock pot. that shit better not have boiling water in it. listen Liberation Army do you guys want to die fast or slow

oh shit

looks like my girl went and made that decision for you huh

oh my god

finally an explanation for the mask!! after... 150 chapters. holy shit

anyways. thirsty girl. Horikoshi’s got me out here rooting for some decidedly morally grey people, sob, and I ain’t even mad

so Kizuki looks very excited and is realizing that ingesting people’s blood is what lets Toga transform into them. so I guess she knew about her quirk, but not the mechanics of it

(ETA: her interest in this makes sense, though, as it explains the whole “attacked her classmate with a knife and sucked all his blood” thing.)

omg

(ETA: hey, we never did get an explanation for this! Toga are we still waiting on part two of your flashback where you interned at Cirque du Soleil.)

lady. me too. I’m still mad at you, but. we’re on the same side in this instance

DSFKJSDLFKJDSKHFS

NEVER FUCKING MIND!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK

FUCKING -- BUT THEN --

WELCOME TO BNHA WHERE CHARACTERS WILL INDEED DO ALL OF THE FUCKED UP SHIT YOU WERE WONDERING IF THEY WERE CAPABLE OF DOING WITH THEIR POWERS. HOLY SHIT

(ETA: I mean, it’s brutal and I’m mad she hurt my girl, but I’m also so impressed that Kizuki went and used her quirk in such a logical and devastating way. haha but Toga should still be dead though.)

so Kizuki is chiding Toga for attempting to disappear into the crowd, and she says she’s taken measures to ensure that she goes along with her interview

oh my god. fuck her up Toga please. make it hurt. girl

so now she’s bragging about how their soldiers will gladly become detonators! wow!

I love how Horikoshi makes the distinction between villains who at least care about their own, and villains who don’t give a fuck about anybody. like, the League is still evil -- Toga stabbed a man in the neck not ten pages ago -- but there’s no doubt whatsoever who we’re supposed to root for her. Toga is just as crazy as this lady, but she tied a handkerchief around Twice when his mask got torn. meanwhile Kizu blows up her own subordinates so she can get the hot goss from her victims before she murders them

OH HEY TOGA BACKSTORY

(ETA: I’m not sure if the phrase “eldest daughter” implies she has siblings? the flashback wasn’t exactly clear on that either. imagine the drama though! omg.)

this! I’m here for this! details without context! if you show us the context you had better not try to make it all saccharine, Horikoshi, do you hear??

MORE DETAILS

because she felt like it, Kizuki. fuck off

I love the description of her as a bright and reasonable girl, though. back when she first disguised herself as Camie I suspected that it might be her, but it seemed far-fetched because she showed herself capable of being perfectly logical and sane while disguised, and it was a side of her we’d never seen before. but I love that, though. I love that Toga’s particular brand of being unhinged doesn’t require her to be dumbed down. she’s brilliant. she just also happens to really, really like stabbing people

fffffffffdslkaj

(ETA: just for the record, I’m not on Team This Guy Is Somehow Related To Deku, sorry guys. he does look like him, I’ll give you that, but I think it’s just a coincidence. Deku is frequently described as having a very ordinary, plain appearance, so I don’t think it necessarily means anything if we happen to see another minor character who bears a slight resemblance. who knows, though, maybe I’m wrong. we’ve had important characters make their first appearance as background characters before -- Kirishima and Ms. Joke come to mind -- so it’s possible! but for the time being I think the likelihood is fairly low.)

TOGA YOU BETTER NOT DIE. YOU BETTER MURDER THIS LADY WITHOUT GIVING HER THE ANSWER SHE SO DESPERATELY CRAVES, AND ONLY THEN THINK THE ANSWER TO YOURSELF AND YOURSELF ALONE. AND THE ANSWER BETTER BE SOMETHING LIKE YOU WERE TIRED OF BEING NICE AND WANTED TO BE YOUR ACTUAL CRAZY SELF

so help me god you guys I’m like two seconds away from adopting a serial killer. she will not get along with her other siblings and it will not be pretty. but I love her though omg

(ETA: yeah it’s done. it’s a done deal. the boys can look after themselves so it’s not a problem, and Eri... well they’ll just have to keep an eye on Eri. as long as they don’t leave the two of them alone it should be fine! Mirio will look after her.

what even is my current adopted kid count anyways. let’s see... Katsuki, Izuku, Shouto, Mirio, Tamaki, Eri, Hawks, and now Toga. am I missing anyone. -- oh right, Shinsou! so that’s nine. plus the 17 other 1-A kids who are quasi-adopted as well. shit, did I adopt Tomura. I think I was on the fence. my fictional family is getting so complicated lol.)

lol sob

yes Toga you’re so normal. and she likes the Liberation Army sob. of course she does. she likes them so much she’s gonna murder the shit out of them

how is that the end of the chapter. shit. one more week to go and then the Golden Week break fffffff Horikoshi you’d better be kind to us with next week’s cliffhanger. please. omg

(ETA: no complaints whatsoever. that was some good shit.)

[thereadingcycle]

This is How it Happened

This is how I believe the Drarry proposal happened:

  If there was one thing Harry and Draco knew how to do, it was argue. They’d been arguing with each other since first year, and that didn’t stop when they finally got together after the war.

  Most of the time they argued about little things: whose turn it was to wash the dishes, which movie they were going to watch that night, whether or not their living room needed a giant bear statue (Harry hated it. Draco loved it because Harry hated it). Sometimes their arguments were more serious. Neither of them would soon forget their biggest fight. It ended in Harry leaving their flat for five hours (the longest they’d ever stayed mad at each other). They were both a mess by the time he returned, and they spent the rest of the night making up.

  They always made up.

  Harry and Draco were always arguing with each other, so it wasn’t really a surprise that their engagement was the result of an argument.

  “I’m sorry, but I am not naming my child Reginald.” Harry and Draco were laying on their bed, it was a rare lazy day when neither of them had anywhere to be. The dreadful London weather gave them an excuse to spend the whole day wrapped up in each other. Somehow, they’d found themselves in a discussion about their imaginary house in the mountains with their imaginary children.

  Harry absently ran his hand through Draco’s hair again. It was something he always did when his boyfriend was anywhere within reaching distance. The feeling soothed them both. Besides, he had to make up for all the years that he wasn’t allowed to touch it.

  “Fine,” Draco sighed. “It doesn’t have to be Reginald. It can be Chauncey, and the girl can be called Gertrude.” Harry visibly cringed. He was starting to wonder if Draco was just messing with him, but when he looked down at him, his face showed no trace of humor.

  “It’s like you got these from a list of terrible baby names.” He remarked. Draco sat up and gave Harry one of his unlimited supply of dirty looks.

  “Well what do you suggest?” 

  “What about Lily and James?” Harry bit his lip and avoided making eye contact with Draco. He’d actually been thinking about baby names a lot lately and he couldn’t think of a better way to honor his parents.

  “After your parents?” Draco asked, incredulously. “You want to name our daughter and son after your parents who were married? Don’t you think that’s a bit weird? Why don’t we just call them Lucius and Narcissa then?” Harry was sitting up now too, obviously annoyed. Draco knew that he had hit a soft spot, and he knew he should back off, but he was never one to admit that he was in the wrong.

 “Because, you hate your father! And you know I respect your mother but- I don’t know. It was just a thought, but those are my parents’ names. Do you have to look so disgusted at the suggestion?” Draco felt his face crack. He knew they were drifting into dangerous territory, and they’d just had such a nice day… he didn’t want to spoil it.

  “I wasn’t trying to look that way, honest. I just think maybe we should try something more regal, y’know? So the kids at Hogwarts know that our little ones come from the best.”

  “Are you kidding?” Harry asked, a small smile playing at his lips. “These are the children of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy we’re talking about. Everyone will know who they are before they walk onto that train.” He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t even know why we’re having this argument. Maybe when we adopt, the baby will already-”

  “Excuse me?” Draco interrupted him. “When we adopt? I will not be getting my baby from a muggle orphanage. How do you expect him to be top of his class at Hogwarts if he has no magical abilities?”

  “I mean,” Harry started. “I wasn’t really thinking ab-”

  “Exactly,” Draco cut in again. “You weren’t. We’ll get a surrogate. I already have a list of the best witches available to do the job.” Harry looked at his boyfriend, completely stunned by this announcement.

  “And I suppose you’ll be the father?” He asked.

  “Well, I thought-”

  “Unbelievable!” Harry burst out, standing up. “So you’ve already had all of this planned out?”

  “Of course, I-”

  “Do I not get a say in any of this? Do I not get a choice in-”

  “I thought this was the future you wanted for us!” Now Draco was standing on the opposite side of the bed, mirroring Harry’s hurt expression. They were both yelling. “Isn’t this what it’s all for, Harry? The life? The kids? The bloody happy ending? Excuse me for thinking about our future.” Harry tried to ignore the way Draco spit out the words “happy ending”. Of course it was all for the happy ending. Neither of the boys had even considered that they would get one. They both thought they would die at the hands of Voldemort. So now that they had a chance at one, it was all either of them could imagine, but Harry’s version didn’t end like this.

  “I want that more than anything, Draco. I want the life, the kids, the future, but you don’t get to make all of the decisions. It has to be a compromise.” Harry threw his hands up in the air, his voice rising with every sentence. “You can’t just not include me in your planning! Besides, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. When were you planning on us moving into this big house? When did you plan our wedding, do I get to know that? When did you even plan on us getting engaged?”

  “Tonight!” Draco exclaimed.

  Then no one was yelling. The silence stretched on between them for what felt like hours. Without a word, Draco reached into his bedside table and pulled out a small, navy blue box. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I was planning on proposing tonight.” Harry was stunned into silence. Draco dropped down on the bed, facing away from him. “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve for a while. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, or when, I just knew that I needed to ask you. Because you are my only plan, Harry.”

 Suddenly, he felt something drop into his lap. He looked down to see an identical navy blue box, and before he realized what that meant, Harry was wrapping his arms around him from behind.

 “Mine too,” He whispered in Draco’s ear. “You’re my only plan too.”

That was the end of that argument, and the beginning of a lifetime of them.

[dismuch47]

Game of Thrones Theories

It’s always fun to throw these out there and read them again after things have gone down. So here is my revised theory list, as my predictions have altered somewhat...

ARYA STARK

Hate to say it, but I think she’s gonna die. She was obsessed with legends of heroes as a child... and now she is one: Arya Stark who disguised herself as a boy with her sword Needle, favorite of the Many Faced god, who completed revenge on those who murdered her family, killer of the untouchable Little Fnger, and slayer of dragons. I added the last one, because I KNOW she is going to kill an ice dragon with that spear. She is going to be the source of so much inspiration to bards, but she is going to be cut down in this war against the Night King. “Okay... today...” She will tell the god of Death, “But not this second...” as she does one last amazing feat to give the good guys the tipped scale they need...like a bad ass boss. Gendry will listen to her hero deeds through songs for the rest of his life, bitter sweet smile on his lips for his first love and the most bad ass woman he ever knew.

GENDRY BARATHEON

Obviously I love the Gendrya ship, that’s why they come first to my mind, but I don’t think they are fated to be together. Their love is true, but she never wanted to be a Lady in a castle. And I don’t think she’s going to survive to the very end. But I do feel that Gendry is being built up to take the iron throne. That this series is going to end how it began; the wheel will not break, but it will wear down. But this time... a Baratheon and Stark will rule... as it should have been the first time. Gendry will have bard songs to remember his first love Arya, but he will be in matrimony with Sansa. It will be a political move... but as he is kind, she is beautiful and witty... it will work. Love... not sure, but he’ll be true to her, unlike Robert. Oh... and there is still a chance that he could be legitimate...but I’ve already written about that and don’t want to take the time to write it all up again. Short version: It’s all Jamie’s fault the Cersei is crazy and Gendry was raised by a blacksmith.

SANSA STARK

There was a time that I hoped that Sansa would renew her marriage to Tyrion, for numerous reasons (I might have shipped them at one point..), but I feel that Sansa is no longer bewitched by the idea of being married for the sake of love. It is obvious that the north looks to her as their level-headed ruler, and she becomes more and more like her mother every day... so I feel that she’s going to be on the throne... and pressured to marry Gendry Baratheon. They will have a long winter to turn him into the king figurehead he needs to be... but Sansa is the one pulling the strings and whose council he trusts. It will be political, but they could grow to lust for each other and...who knows... love? The fact that they both love Arya (though for different reasons) is just more common ground.

BRAN STARK

I don’t care. But I feel like the three-eyed raven does more harm then good. Pushes people away. And when his plan totally fails, we’ll see that everything was going to play out exactly the way it would have even without his “help.” Hello I can see everything that has already happened: WORST SUPER POWER EVER. Seriously, warg some crap to make things better for everyone instead of making them feel self-conscious for things they can’t control! I truly believe that the death of the “memory of man” is a good thing...all these prophecies and fates make everyone feel trapped... instead of letting everyone carve their future with bold uncertainty. I’m calling it now... death of three-eyed Raven is a GOOD thing. It will help wear down, or break the cycle.

JON SNOW

He never wanted the throne, and I don’t think him finding out who he is has changed that. It’s only there to add drama and tension. I do feel that he’s going to have to play out that prophecy of killing his beloved, Daenerys... because DRAMA. He’s going to end up either taking their boat baby elsewhere to be raised or he’s going to die. I would like to think he would survive... because I don’t think Dany is going to make it... and the dragon line will continue... though maybe not with the dragons...

MOTHER OF DRAGONS

She dead. The days of commanding mythical creatures and magical people are coming to an end. Drogon will die by the Night King’s Dragon, which will be able to HURT DANY WITH IT’S FLAMES since it is not regular fire... so her mortality in battle will come as a hard blow. Strip her of the muscle, which was gained with muscle and dragons, take away dragons and you have a very vulnerable woman with no real know-how to lead or inspire loyalty. So really, in my opinion, her usefulness is going to run shockingly low once the NK army mows over her 3,000 like nothing. Except for drama. So... boat baby and turning against Jon...and having to be killed by him...for....yah now. DRAMA. I’m sorry, but I’m just over her. 

CERSEI LANNISTER

I think Jamie will be responsible for her death, but not in the way that we think. I think she is going to legit kill him. And possibly his gold hand will come into play of her death...whether by being bludgeoned by it (*cough* by Brie of Tarth *cough*) or being melted down into a sentimental weapon to killer her with (*cough* by Brie of Tarth *cough*).

SIR BRIENNE OF TARTH

Oh she gonna LIVE, baby. She gonna team up with The Hound to take down The Mountain. She gonna put the Mad Queen down. And then she gonna be head of the King’s guard. Because that’s how you crush the wheel of sexism, baby!

JAMIE LANNISTER

Dead. Just... dead. He’s gotten redemption, he’s pissed off Cersei and at times is responsible for her madness... so... dead. It’s time. And I’m sure it will be sentimental and in the arms of a gorgeous lady knight which is more than he deserves... Or crumpled up by the Mountain.

TYRION LANNISTER

He’s my fav. He’s my boy. But I don’t know if he’s gonna make it. How nice would it be if he did... that the one that everyone mocks as being weak and useless and ugly makes it out on top...but I just don’t know. If he doesn’t make it, may it be on his witty terms, and not like a coward.

BRONN

Dead.

THEON GREYJOY

I don’t want him to die... because his redemption has been heartbreaking and sincere, but I also don’t want him to live with the memory of what he’s been through. I could see him dying honorably, and it would be a sigh of relief to him.

YARA GREYJOY

You go get that fishy throne! You’re doing amazing sweetie.

NIGHT KING

So I’ve always had a theory that the white walkers and the long winters are basically a reset button for mankind when things get too immoral, incesty, and just unbalanced...so while they are terrifying and it seems horrible that they take infants for their army and slaughter thousands.. look at what the human kingdoms are doing: burning little girls, sacrificing infants, slaughters at weddings, using imprisoning and torturing in the name of righteousness, brother and sister joining in lust, conquerors called messiahs... it’s an unholy mess and the white walkers are like “yucccccck... let’s just mow this over and see if anything worthy crops back up in the spring...” This whole summer verses winter... it’s a tale as old as time: death must come in order to purify for a hopeful spring. It’s a cycle...and I think that the walkers are apart of the cycle when it comes to mankind. But if they are defeated, then mankind is going to be left to face it’s own morality issues, rather than blame an ultimate evil. Can mankind even handle that? And then there’s the theory that the NK is just cruising for a queen, which I find reasonable. And if he is...it’s going to be a Stark, as a call out to the Stark Crow that went mad for a White Walker Queen.

So those are some predictions. It will be interesting to see who gets killed tonight...

[northofthenorthwritingsandstuff]

Familiar Plant, plant Familiar

Summary: A voice talks to Mathew. It would be against the rules to talk back or to care at all for it, but he also cannot leave it and the soul he knows is behind it alone. So, he goes against the rules, and they both have to go on the run as they are hunted down by the finest Kill Seekers.

......................................................................................................

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Unlike an animal specialized witch, Mathew is a plant specialized with, and his familiar is a plant. And, like all familiars, helps him control his magic and who helps train him in being a witch in his first few years after his magic is discovered. Like animal familiars, the seed is sentient and calls itself Ivan. He slowly starts to gain feelings for Mathew and neglects the duties instructed of him by the Council when they allowed him to become Mathew's Familiar. His job, they'd told him, was to control Matthew's power, and keep it from its maturity. However, controlling a witch's power, reducing it, causes them pain. Mathew also has feelings for the kind and yet sometimes sarcastic voice always talking to him when so many of his fellow witches are so ignoramously concerned with reaching the top of their hierarchical power structure that they either betray him or ignore him. So, they both go against witch rules and have to go on the run. ________________________________________ If there was one secret that Mathew Williams- witch extraordinaire and son of the King of the Fae, Arthur Kirkland- would never tell anyone, it would be the secret that he would most likely be hanged by his fellow witches for harbouring-take out the h from that word and no pun intended.

In his world where every witch had a special affinity for one of the known elements-air, water, fire, or earth- he was a "plant mage." His power stemmed from the trees, herbs, flowers, grasses, mosses, shrubs, and lichens that burrowed into all soils of his world. There was nowhere that he did not feel a sweet tingling on his skin, that special pins and needles that always took his breath away.

However, despite being known for being more open-minded than the non-magical folk, witches did have some bans that Mathew thought almost as unfair as the non-magicals avoiding lepers. For one, while there were beings in his world that were made of and pretty much almost represented the elements in his world, no witch could marry anyone that wasn't a fellow witch. For some reason, people only seemed to argue that non-magicals should be able to be married, but Mathew wished he had the courage to add one more species to that list, the dryads. The tree people, descendants of those who were such powerful plant mages that when they died, their body dissolved into seeds, each one spawning a tree spirit. As each one was made of the remnants of magic, they weren't quite but were pretty much the children of the witch they came from. This theory, while popular, had its foundations in that if those seeds were planted they took on human form and became extremely powerful plant mages that while they looked nothing like their predecessor did inherit their talents, and even expanded exponentially in power. But, perhaps fearing an infringement of their power, the High Council had forbade the planting of any of the 5 Legendary Witches who had gone to seed, and those who had been "borne" already were hunted down and murdered. Mathew had grown up with stories about them, rumours he was sure that had been made up solely to tear apart any tree people that might have tried to go into hiding. It was said that the tree people had spread the Plague that killed off two-thirds of his world's population. He grew up listening to vitriol in school from his teachers lamenting how people still relied on the power inherent in the seeds of the tree people when they believed they should all be burnt.

Mathew had always subtly held his seed to try and comfort it upon feeling the fury, sadness, and shame he could feel coming from him through their bond. Inside, he had hated his teachers for those opinions. Yet he couldn't act out then, even now that he had graduated from the Academy he couldn't. He was still a highly watched Ward of the State, after all. And while his brother had curated fame and prestige back even with their near title of orphans due to his talent at sports, Mathew had instead become more watched when it became clear that he was extremely gifted at magic. And with his own opinions that he couldn't share, like that the tree people should have the right to be planted.

But of course, he was biased. After all, he was in love with his familiar, a tree person's unplanted seed that he stored his extra magic within in case of emergencies and whose consciousness he consulted for the wisdom of its ancestor's memories. Like the phylactery of lichs. Or the storing of magic inside gems done by the fabled elves. Rather similar to that, if you understand my meaning.

But, of the tree person it could have become, he only knew one thing, that while it's ancestor had been female, his tree person was male, had a Russian accent, and rarely divulged much of his own self-his wants, needs, ideas- beyond that his name was Ivan. But, maybe that was because of Mathew's own loneliness from having so few other apprentices around, after all the population was only beginning to recover now fifty years after the Plague had swept through killing everyone left, right, and centre.

His own brother and other father had died in the grips of the Plague. Or it could also possibly be because he himself was a bit of an abomination and everyone spat at him, curled the evil finger in his direction, or refused him everything but his services as a witch and powerful healer. After all, he was the child of a Fae, and his father Francis Bonnefoi, the most powerful wind worker of his time, had gone against the Law when he wed the King of the Fairies. Not to mention that he went against even the law of the humans by marrying another man.

Mathew and his twin brother should never have been born.

And now, ever since, the Fae world had been sealed off in retribution for Francis' crimes, no matter the objections of the other wind workers who enlisted the Fae as familiars, much as plant mages such as himself used the seeds of the tree people. Despite attempts being felt from the Fae world to break down the barrier, and occasionally missives coming through despite the wards up meant to stop such interactions, it had not yet fallen. The witch and human world was still separate from the Fae, and Mathew had no relatives he could contact beside his brother. A brother who seemed to be fully under the spell of the leading power, and would even mock Mathew for his reliance on magic and the care he saw Mathew exhibit for the Seed he carried.

Perhaps he was crazy to fall in love with a voice. Especially one he knew so little about the personality behind. He only knew the little tidbits that Ivan let slip...but Mathew wasn't satisfied with that small tiddly amount. He could never be when every word from Ivan sent shivers through him in delight. He had gone past being his best friend, and Mathew wanted him to be real so badly it hurt. And when he accidentally let slip those thoughts through their bond he could feel the delight that Ivan felt at the idea of being real too.

Yet, it couldn't be.

There was a way to make him be real and assume the shape his consciousness had defined for itself, but...that wasn't allowed...

Then again, Mathew was tired of living by the rules.

[winteriron-trash]

(I Am) A Little Wicked [Chapter 3]

A/N: Happy Thursday! I’m posting at 3 am because I found out I got a 98 on a fucking hard Regents, and I’ve been through the roof all day. Humblebrag, much, self? Anyway, there’s a 5 yr time-lapse from the last chapter, because I’ve gotten past all the scene setting junk. A focus of Tony on this chapter, but Maria features. Don’t worry, I promise we’ll meet Bucky next chapter. And it’ll be really cool, trust me. But anyway, lemme know if you wanna be added to the tag list as usual, and much love to my muse @lovinthepizzalife . I’ll get this on Ao3 as soon as Ao3 stops being a dick to me...

Playlist | Summary/Warnings | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

-

“Look at you,” Maria smiled, running her hand over Tony’s face. “Growing up so fast. Already going to college.”

Tony smiled, tugging at the edges of the oversized MIT hoodie. “Thank you, madre.”

Maria kissed Tony’s cheek. “Make some friends, ‘Tonio.”

“And why should I do that?” Tony’s voice was bored and annoyed, but he wore a playful smile.

“Connections are always worthwhile.” Maria reminded him. “MIT is filled with influential people.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll take the jet home every weekend, I promise.”

“Of course.” Maria kissed Tony’s cheek again. “Keep in contact, and let me know if you need anything, tesoro.”

“Mhm.” Tony hugged Maria. “Goodbye, madre.”

Maria gave Tony a final smile and watched him leave. That was her boy.

-

Tony hated college.

The subjects went mind-numbingly slow, the people were assholes, and the teachers belittled him. He was starting to regret letting Maria convince him into going.

So naturally, Tony was a loner. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it wasn’t like he needed friends. But it wasn’t going to help his public image. Maria would be disappointed in him if she knew. She always harped Tony about making sure what the people saw something they could love and adore without question. A wolf in sheep’s clothing and all.

And sure, Tony agreed with that. Wholeheartedly, even. If he hoped to even try to make Maria proud, Tony had to be like her. He had to prove to her he was worth more than Howard ever had been. Prove to himself that the media was all wrong. Tony wasn’t Howard’s son, wasn’t his pride and joy. He wasn’t the mirror image of Howard, wasn’t going to be the man Howard Stark was.

No, Tony was Maria Carbonell’s son first. The son of a woman who was stronger than the man who tried to control her, a man whose mask only hid an empty shell. And Tony had to make her proud.

“Hey.”

Tony glanced up, jerked out of his thoughts. “What?” Tony said, just a tad too harsh. He’d come to the library to be alone and study.

The guy standing next to Tony didn’t seem deterred in the slightest by Tony’s reaction, only smiling. “Hi. I’m James Rhodes, but everyone calls me Rhodey. Mind if I sit here?” He gestured to the seat next to Tony.

Tony blinked, then put on an easy smile. “Sure.” Tony dragged his books over and out of the way.

“This has gotta be weird for you,” Rhodey sighed, sitting down. “Everyone here is like, three years older than you. And assholes.”

“You said it, not me.” Tony glanced at Rhodey, giving him a small smirk.

Rhodey laughed. It sounded genuine, all in all. Even if Tony wasn’t really expecting much. Most people who’d tried to befriend him so far only saw the last name. If the whole point of making connections in MIT was for it to be beneficial to Tony, then Tony was well aware most weren’t worth the brainpower. Even so, Rhodey did sound somewhat genuine, so Tony didn’t immediately push him away.

“Tony, right?” Rhodey asked. “That’s your name?”

“Yep.” Tony nodded. “I don’t go by some weird nickname derived off my last name like ‘Stark-y’. Because that’d be weird.” Tony sipped his coffee.

Rhodey laughed again, throwing his head back. “Man, I didn’t pick the name. Even my mom calls me that. Nobody calls me ‘James’.”

“Well, that’s good.” Tony decided. “Because ‘James’ is boring. And you don’t look like a James. It’s too… boring.”

“Child genius, right here, ladies and gentlemen.” Rhodey teased, grinning.

Tony smacked his arm, having to hold his lips closed when he smiled.  “I haven’t had coffee yet. Shut up.”

“Coffee fuels all genius, doesn’t it?” Rhodey wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yes.” Tony looked him dead in the eye. Rhodey only shook his head and chuckled. So maybe not everyone at college was an asshole.

“Hey, Stark.”

Well, there were still the assholes regardless.

Tony looked up and put on an easy smile. “Hey, Justin.”

Justin Hammer gave Tony a nasty smirk. “Nice to see your sorry ass made a friend.”

“And I didn’t even have to buy him out like you do.” Tony tilted his head to the side and offered the sweetest smile he could muster.

Justin baulked but didn’t back down. “He must like you for your personality. The way you’re so like your father,” He sneered. “I just hope you don’t end up in a pool of your own blood like him.”

As contrived as the hoops Justin had to jump through to bring it to Howard like he always did were, it still pissed Tony off. Not necessarily the mention of Howard, but the comparison. He gave a slight glare, throat tightening.

“Hey, fuck off.” Rhodey cut in. “How’d you feel if someone brought up a traumatizing event in your life, asshole? That’s just sick.”

Justin blinked, taking a step back. He opened his mouth, but Rhodey glared him down. He and his lackeys stormed off, mumbling to himself.

Rhodey shook his head. “That’s sick. You know you don’t deserve that, right?”

“It’s fine. It was years ago.” Tony cleared his throat, fiddling with his pencil. Maria’s words about shedding a tear for the cameras rang loud in his head.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s just not right, you know? I don’t care how sick you are, that’s messed up.” Rhodey glared at Justin from across the library.

Tony smiled. “Thanks.”

Rhodey definitely wasn’t an asshole. Tony made a mental note to kick anyone’s ass who touched him. Rhodey probably befriended Tony to take him under his wing, but Tony was well aware the opposite had just happened. Rhodey was under his protection, and anyone who hurt him would learn what a Carbonell was capable of.

-

Even with Rhodey, Tony was glad to be home for Christmas break a few months later. It meant less class, more sleep. And seeing his family, which was nice.

“Afternoon, madre.” Tony kissed Maria’s cheek as he walked into the house, bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey, Smitty.” Tony nodded to Maria’s favourite business partner. At least for the underground business, anyway.

“Nice to see you, Tony.” Smitty gave Tony a bright smile. “How’s college going for you, kid?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to be surrounded by alcohol, drugs, and stupid teenagers, I’d go to a crack house.”

Smitty laughed. “Good to know you aren’t hanging around that crowd then, kid.”

“My ‘Tonio would never be stupid enough to befriend such lowlifes.” Maria made a distasteful face.

“Of course not.” Tony nodded. “You raised me better.”

Maria smiled. “Oh hush.” She touched Tony’s arm. “I need you to come to a business meeting I have with Mr Hammer, tesoro. Tomorrow afternoon.”

Tony hummed. “Is it about the money he’s been trying skim off the top?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “He mentioned bringing his son to the meeting, so I thought it’d be only fair if you came too.

Even on his break, Tony had to deal with seeing Justin’s squirrely little face. “Sure thing.” Tony gave Maria another cheek kiss and headed up to his room. At least this time he’d be seeing Justin on his terms. “Nice seeing you, Smitty.”

“You too, kid,” Smitty shouted after him. Tony smiled.

-

“Mrs Stark,” Hammer started, fixing his tie. “While it’s a pleasure to see you, I’m not quite sure to what I owe the occasion.”

Maria tilted her head to the side, smiling with her lips. “It’s just a small business matter, concerning Stark Industries and HammerTech.”

Hammer mimicked Maria’s tilting his head to the side. Tony sucked on a lollipop, sitting on the living room couch and watching. Justin Hammer sat in a chair, watching as well. Tony hated having Justin and his father in their living room, but he supposed it was necessary. “What about it? Should we call a board meeting?” Mr Hammer asked.

“No, of course not, dear.” Maria gave her best press smile, sipping tea. “No need for such a fuss. It’s just a small thing, I’m sure we can clear it up without a problem.”

“And what would it be?” Mr Hammer tilted his head to the side.

Maria set her teacup down, touching her pearls. “You know, so often people tend to underestimate me. Even five years into taking over Howard company -God rest his soul- I’m still doubted.” She crossed her legs. “I suppose I don’t blame them, social prejudices and all. But,” Maria’s eyes narrowed just a tad, “I’m very good at what I do, Mr Hammer. I always know what goes on in my company, inside and out. And I especially know when someone is scamming me.”

Mr Hammer blinked a few times, clearing his throat. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Mrs Stark.”

“You know exactly what I’m saying.” Maria leaned forward. “I gave you a generous business deal, and you took advantage of it.”

Mr Hammer’s face went from blank to shocked, to offended, then finally to a cocky smirk. “And how do you plan to fix that? I’m sure you don’t have any evidence of illegal actions, otherwise, this wouldn’t be such a casual meeting.”

Maria cocked an eyebrow. “I believe you’re mistaken. I don’t the law to rectify these sorts of things.”

“Are you threatening me, Mrs Stark?” Mr Hammer outright growled.

“Only if I need to be.” Maria didn’t flinch.

“And just what do you think you have to threaten me with?” Mr Hammer demanded. “If the business deal falls apart, you’ll lose just as much.”

Maria glanced around the room, eyes falling on Justin. “You have a lovely son. I’m sure he’ll be a wonderful heir to your company.” Maria picked up the teacup, taking a sip.

“You’re threatening to hurt my son?” Mr Hammer stood up, taking a step back.

“Am I?” Maria tilted her head to the side. “All you have to do is keep the business deal clean on both ends. I don’t think that’s too hard.”

“If you think you can threaten me into compliance,” Mr Hammer hissed, “you should know, I won’t let a woman tell me what to do. You wouldn’t hurt Justin. You’re bluffing.”

Maria pressed her lips. “I never said I would hurt Justin.” She glanced at Tony, smiling with all her teeth. “Did I, ‘Tonio?”

“You didn’t.” Tony sat up.

“And I don’t plan to.” Maria studied her nails. “I can’t speak for ‘Tonio will do, though.”

Maria gave Tony a single look, and that was all Tony needed. Tony stood up, wearing a feral grin. He sauntered over to where Justin was sitting. Justin was sitting still, glaring at Tony. Waiting for the bluff.

Tony stood right next to Justin, bending over so his mouth was right next to Justin’s ear. “Hey Justin,” Tony whispered in a soft purr.

Then he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and slammed it into Justin’s hand.

Justin screamed, staring at his bleeding hand, that now had a knife pinning it against the armrest of the chair he was sitting in. Tony pulled the knife out just as quickly as he’d put it in.

“Who’s in a pool of their own blood now?” Tony murmured in Justin’s ear, then threw himself back down onto the couch, twirling the blood-soaked knife between his fingers while he sucked the lollipop in his other hand.

Mr Hammer stared at his bleeding son with a look Tony could only describe as pure horror. He only managed to look at Tony for a brief moment, the toothy smirk Tony gave him scared any eye contact away instantly.

“I’ll… look into fixing the problem,” Mr Hammer said, tugging on his tie. “Justin, let’s go.”

Justin stood up, looking white in the face. He cradled his bleeding hand to his chest, stumbling out of the house to follow his father. Tony watched the door slam shut, still smiling.

“Thank you, ‘Tonio,” Maria said as soon as they were gone. “You make me so proud, figlio.”

Tony put the bloody knife down and gave a genuine smile. “Anything for you, madre.”

-

@justjessica131   @smittenkitten143 @crazy4thewinbros@madieorally@lazilymysticalzombie@journeythroughtherain @i-dont-know-just-where-im-going @ibreathebooks-42 @shiroukun @sonofabitch150@daughter-of-infinity@king-stony  @cdragontogacotar@creepycrazyshipper @justaboringlurker @sun-at-midnight @bash-it-all @i-dont-know-anything-and-i-worry@shipeveryonetogether  @jampottr

[whimsicalworldofme]

Baba, Papa, Close Enough

It’s drabble time again because these characters won’t leave me the fuck alone! Woohoo! 

Word count: 1,606

No triggers. Just cute fluffy stuff with mild angst. I’m literally just doing this to get this stuff out of my brain at this point so I apologize if it’s not the most riveting thing you’ve ever read.

But it’s Poe with a baby, so… 

“Say Papa,” Poe cooed as he held Luke up, his hands firmly on the baby’s sides, holding him up under his pudgy little arms. At six months old Ava’s son was trying already to stand on his chunky little legs but could only manage if someone held him upright. “Say Papa!”

“Ah babababa,” Luke gurbled and blew a raspberry right in Poe’s face. His enormous brown eyes lit up and he squealed in delight as Poe scrunched his face up trying to keep baby slobber from flying into his eyes.

           “Close enough,” the pilot grinned and shifted the baby to cradle him in his arms, tickling his plump tummy. “Baba, Papa, whatever works for you, buddy.”

           “You’re going to confuse him,” Ava chided but there wasn’t much force behind the reprimand.

           She was setting the table for them to have dinner. Poe often came to visit for meals and to play with Luke. Despite the fact that half the base knew exactly whose child Luke was, Poe for some reason still insisted on telling anyone who spoke ill of him that Luke was his kid. He’d shown up tonight with a black eye after things got a little too heated with another pilot whose offense Poe wouldn’t elaborate on, but apparently had been bad enough to warrant punches being thrown. Ava had heard a few particularly nasty things herself in the last few months. That it was only a matter of time before Luke turned evil like his father and killed them all. That he’d grow up to betray them to the First Order. That his bloodline would naturally make him cruel and violent.

           She had given up trying to call out everyone’s abuse. They hadn’t known Ben before he turned, hadn’t seen his soft heart and how deeply he felt pain, both his own and others. None of them understood he had been a child desperate for his parents’ love in a world that wouldn’t allow it, that sadly left him as their second priority, not by any fault of their own but out of sheer necessity. But a child like Ben, who wanted to belong, couldn’t fully understand the greater good. Not when he felt like it came at too high a personal cost. Ava had known and understood Ben. She knew he’d been conflicted, but she knew that he had been good. Her son would know that truth someday. For now, all she could focus on was making sure that he knew he was loved and cared for. Poe helped with that, so she couldn’t stay upset at him when he pulled this crap.

           “What’s confusing?” Poe chuckled as Luke let out another stream of “bababababa.” “I’m his Papa. I love him, I help take care of him, in my mind he’s my kid and this shiner is just further confirmation,” he smirked up at Ava who rolled her eyes. She set a plate in front of him, full up with sliced up roast of some sort, some mashed tubers, and greens. They got some strange food stuff from supporters all over the galaxy and sometimes it was hard to identify everything, but Ava somehow always managed to make something scrumptious from it. After Luke’s birth she’d taken up a role in the base kitchen, quickly becoming head cook.

           “Poe,” she cautioned as she sat down across from him, “I’m going to have to tell him who his father is eventually. It’s going to be really confusing for him if he thinks you’re his father.”

           “I’m not his father,” he insisted and lifted Luke up into the air. “I’m his Papa,” he grinned up at the baby who let out a gleeful shriek. “There’s a difference, isn’t there Luke?”

           “Sass,” Ava rolled her eyes but smiled all the same.

           He lowered the baby to eye level and kissed his chubby little cheek before holding him close to his chest while tucking into his dinner. Luke grabbed at the fork but Poe did a good job at keeping it and the food out of the baby’s reach. Ava didn’t know how he’d gotten so good with babies but she did enjoy watching it. He wolfed down his meal quickly even while dodging Luke’s grabby little hands.

           He deserves his own family. Not playing pretend with us.

           But she realized that wasn’t exactly a fair assessment given their current situation. They were far from an ordinary, traditional setup, but the three of them were a family in an odd way. She smiled as Luke tugged on his ear. He had Ben’s ears. Eventually his hair would grow in more fully to balance out their size. Seeing how Poe interacted with her son had helped Ava to simply enjoy being a mom. Poe marveled at everything the baby did. There was no malice or lingering resentment over what Ben had done. He simply loved Luke and that helped Ava to put aside all the fears and hurt that Ben had caused and be able to love her son too.

           “You can put him in his bassinet,” Ava suggested when Luke smacked a hand right into Poe’s open mouth. “Makes eating a little easier.”

           “No way,” Poe chuckled, holding onto the tiny hand he’d removed from his mouth. “I gotta get all the kid time I can. I’m going out on a mission tomorrow. Don’t know when we’ll be back.”

           He grew serious, his eyes somber as they met hers. Ava felt her stomach drop and pushed her plate away from her, setting down her fork. She knew that missions were vital to the Resistance. The best pilots were sent out to gather information, weapons, supplies. But any time they went out, especially on intel gathering expeditions, there was no knowing if they’d ever come back. Poe was easily growing to be the single best pilot in the Resistance but that didn’t make him invincible.

           “How dangerous will this one be?” Ava knew she couldn’t expect him to give her specifics but he generally provided an honest answer to that question.

           “I don’t expect it’ll be very dangerous. If we do it right,” he added quickly which did more to unnerve her than calm her.

           Luke got his hands into those jet curls and pulled with a coo.

           “Hey, buddy,” Poe smiled at the baby again, the somber countenance vanishing. “I know the grownups aren’t paying attention to you.” He untangled Luke’s hand from his hair and stood him up on his lap. “Sometimes the we have to talk about things you don’t know about.”

           “Grownups,” Ava scoffed. “We’re still teenagers.”

           “You’re a mother, I’m a pilot in the Resistance. We’re grown,” Poe insisted. “It happens fast for us rebels,” he flashed a pain-tinted smile as Luke grabbed at his nose.

           “Come see me as soon as you get back?” Ava changed the subject. She hated the waiting while he was gone.

           “The minute I land,” he promised. “But you know full well you could keep tabs on me while I’m gone.”

           “No,” Ava got up from the table and went back into the little kitchen space of her quarters. The quarters she had only gotten because she had Luke and the General insisted she needed the amenities and space to care for him.  Turning her back on Poe at the table she went about cleaning the dishes from cooking.

           “Ava,” Poe’s voice pleaded from behind her, but she didn’t want to acknowledge him yet. It had been a year since the night Ben turned and she hadn’t used the Force once. Cutting herself off from it felt like the only way to keep herself safe. If she opened herself up, Ben, or Kylo, as she heard he now called himself, would find her. They’d always been able to communicate through the Force, speaking from long distances. If he caught the faintest hint of her presence, he would find her. She could never let that happen. Not now. Not when she had to protect Luke. So, keeping tabs on Poe through the Force, no matter how tempting, would never be an option.

           “I’m sorry,” Poe sidled up beside her, Luke still in his arms. He bounced him lightly. “I won’t bring it up again.”

           “Promise?” Ava hoped he could see in her eyes how much it hurt her.

           “I promise,” he nodded.

           “Baba!” Luke whacked his little hands on Poe’s chest demanding attention. “Baba!”

           “Yeah, buddy?” Poe laughed. “Look at you! You know who your Papa is.”

           He beamed from ear to ear and Ava didn’t have the heart to correct him again. She’d let him have it. Poe was the only adult male figure in her son’s life so if he thought of him as Papa, what harm could it do?

           He could do a lot worse for a father figure, she thought and instantly felt upset at herself when she remembered exactly who his real father was.

           “All right, Luke, go to your Mama,” Poe passed the baby over to her and stroked what little hair he had before kissing the top of his head. He turned his attention to Ava, growing serious again. “I’ll see you soon, promise.”

           With her free arm, Ava reached for him and he obliged, wrapping her up in a warm hug, careful not to squish the baby. She wondered if it would ever stop terrifying her when he left, but figured it probably wouldn’t. Poe kissed her cheek and stepped back, taking a moment as if to mentally capture the sight of the two of them before he smiled, turned on his heel and walked out the door.

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