#guys i hate and love bridget so much for all this mess

[aspen-charminghearts]

Tw: Mentions of Child Abuse Imagine watching your mother kills people on the daily while she also emotionally (and likely psychically) abuses you. That was all that your childhood was, while you’re not allowed to have a single friend and the ones you did have, your mother orders killed. So your only form of companionship is your tutor is who much older than you and yet then you two are not exactly close friends because you simply can’t in this kind of world. One day though you get your ticket out and your murderous mom lets you go for some confusing reason but you’re so excited because for once your life won’t just be watching people die, your mom hurting you for not being what she wishes of you, and loneliness. It now could be companionship, life, and freedom. You’re almost there- then you realize your mom used you to ruin what was supposed to be your new life, and you’re there trying to stop her for once because this was your only hope and you just watch her stomp on it as you watch her say that your only use in life was being her key to invading a kingdom. But you didn’t want this, so for once you argue back but it’s useless and then this random woman you’re mom clearly despises comes up and challenges her but you’re just silently begging her to stop and leave because you can’t see anymore blood spilt, and then your mom puts her life in your hands. You can’t do it, you verbally now beg her to just freaking kneel because you don’t want to be the monster your mom is. But then she says you can’t do it, this woman who you were just begging to save herself says that you can’t be the one thing that will make yourself something good enough. So you do it, but you don’t feel any better because you know it’s wrong and you just can’t see another person die. The blood can’t be on your hands this time. But then you see that cheery girl you called annoying (annoyingly pretty that is, but you’re not gonna admit that out loud) from earlier yelling and screaming at you, you’re taking away someone else’s mom, a mom who actually is good enough that her kid is begging for her. You decide you have to fix this but you accidentally bring angry girl with you because she’s about to be stupid like her mom and you can’t see another person die. So back in time you go, you discover your mom was good, you fall in love with the girl, and you fix everything. You go back and it’s all amazing. But now everyone expects you to be this different version of you that you were not, because you weren’t the one who grew up with the sweet queen of hearts, had friends, and a normal life. You’re the messed up version who’s seen to much, and now you just.. have to figure it out. And your only help is the bubbly girl you fell for and you both just can’t ever tell another soul. Everyone’s depending in it.

That was Red’s life.

Sometimes I simply can’t forget how horrible and difficult things must’ve been for her. She’s stronger than most of us are. I don’t know how disney is going to have to deal with it in the next movie but I expect at least one year jerking scene or I will protest.

[writefinch]

Communion

(cn: piss, foot stuff)

It clicked for me about a month ago, years after it had become apparent to the people who knew me, but I'm not short-sighted and self-pitying enough to think that meant I'd wasted time or could've made the leap sooner. If I was less kind to myself I'd say 'boy, I had the maps and I knew the landmarks so how'd I end up in the wilderness so long' but I was sailing through fog, and you know what? When I saw that landmass looming in the distance, I sailed towards it.

I didn't know totally what it meant, still don't in fact. Last year I joked about being a cis boy dyke, and since then I've struck the 'cis' and I'm shaky on the 'boy' and the part that was a joke was the truest thing of all. ��Am I a boy? Maybe. A woman? I don't think so. A man? I truly fucking hope not. A good girl? Put a collar on me and we'll see.

The thing about fog is that you can't just step back and get a big picture view of everything. My instincts tell me that if I want to figure things out I should look at them at a remove, see where it fits into everything around it, map things out and move forward cautiously. That's what I want to do, it's what I've always done, but fog makes it impossible. You have to get in close if you want to see things, you can't keep it at a distance.

I couldn't move ahead and start hormones right away, not for a few months, for reasons I won't get into here. Delays don't sit well with me brain because I know my brain and I don't trust it, I don't trust it not to treat this like some other big rewarding involving project like learning Polish or playing Go, decide we're too busy and it's too scary and shove the whole thing into a mental oubliette to never see the light of day again. Sure, my friends call me Charlotte now and I've got she/her next to my Discord username, but I wanted something stronger, I wanted something that would cut into me.

I can't remember the name of the first trans woman I knew as a person, rather than as a punchline to a cruel joke. It was on Tumblr and it must have been after 2015 because I remember she had an Undyne avatar, but maybe not, because surely Violet, the "boy" I'd been practically engaged to, had come out as trans at that point? Surely I knew Skeeter, that poor, vicious mess of a girl well enough by then? It must have been earlier than that, the ponies had turned me queer by 2013 at the latest.

No, no, the Undyne-avatar lady was the first time I saw someone I knew be openly *Marxist-Leninist*, she was just also trans.

Anyway I don't know what it was, but even though I was rock-solid confident in being cis and a guy (a guy or a dude, it never bought me any joy to think of myself as a 'man'), something about trans women just really stuck with me. I found their stories compelling, I found their experiences interesting and oddly relatable, though I didn't suffer dysphoria as I thought they described it. I made friends with some trans girls, some of my friends became trans girls, and suddenly most of my friends were trans girls. I burned at injustices done to them, I bought hormones for friends, donated to trans street medic projects, helped newly-cracked eggs get in touch with DIY medding sources, y'know, normal cis ally stuff.

Recently, I realized that I loved trans women. I fucking love them so much. I fucking love all of the varied and fractious transfemme communities that have allowed me to be a part of them, as nothing more than a cis guy who draws a lot of porn. I'm not going to say anything about Blahaj and Bridget and pink coding socks because I know the girl who fucking hates that silly terminally-online stereotype and I know the girl who *is* that silly terminally online stereotype and I love them both and love so many trans girls in all their aspects between and beyond those boundaries. I have never found myself so close to any group of people, so filled with admiration and wonder and love and lust for them, so overjoyed by their trust and friendship and confidence in me, so blessed to call myself a friend and contemporary, as I have of the trans women in my life.

I had accepted some time ago, with no pain and more than a little pride, that I would admire them but be apart from them, that my place would be as a welcome guest, that I would be among them but not one of them, and--

A crack has opened within me to let the light seep in.

I'm one of them. I really am one of them, they're mine and I am theirs and I never want to let this go, this revelation is a gift that I'm barely beginning to comprehend and I can't bear the thought that I might let it pass me by and slouch back into darkness.

So, I would bring a change upon myself, in a way that was small but could not be un-changed, a vow that could not be forgotten, only consciously recanted.

I cut out a lot of the idea before I brought it up, mostly out of time and expedience. I thought of a prayer to Inanna, but that felt like a clumsy thing to rush, and I decided I'd make a shrine to her only once I had the wisdom to pay Her proper respects. I liked the idea of getting caned or whipped in a purifying way first, but that felt too much like regular kink, just inspiration for another drawing. The idea of doing the ritual under psychedelics intrigued me but, well, I've never done anything but amphetamines and poppers before, and I didn't want to dull the experience of either the ritual or the drugs by combining the two under my own inexperience - though, I did include poppers.

Alice, Emily and Lily - not their real names but you get the picture - were very good about it. They told me it was a cute idea, and we met up at Emily's ground-floor studio flat on Sunday night. We'd have been playing board games anyway, and they even seemed a little excited by the idea, even if they weren't buzzing from anticipation like me.

I'd only worn the clothes once since I'd bought them - black tights, a knee-length straight skirt, a black blouse - but my heart didn't pound like that the first time I put them on. I shaved my face upwards and against the grain, my skin still annoyingly stubble-grey, but that would show much less in the candlelight.

When I stepped out of Emily's bathroom the girls had already set things up, candles and all. They were sitting on chairs in a semi-circle, backlit by flickering orange candlelight. As I approached they got stage giggles; I did too, it felt infectious.

Once the giggles had cleared, Alice, in the middle, asked me to state my name and purpose.

'My name is Sophie, and I am here to recieve communion.'

'Very well,' said Alice, and pointed to a spot between their chairs marked in white tape. I knelt there, a bowl of water to one side and a small bag at the other.

I turned to Lily, bowed my head, and asked her if I could wash her feet. She nodded, and I took the bowl and wash cloth and gently cleaned her feet with warm water. Once they were clean and free of sweat and sock lint, I bent down to dry them with my hair. She nodded her approval, and I asked Emily if I could do the same for her. Likewise I cleaned her feet and likewise dried them with my hair. Alice did not get her feet out, for me nor anyone, and instead allowed me to lick her shiny black boots, which only had the faintest hint of grit to them.

Once I had performed the ablutions, the girls daubed me. Alice held my jaw firm in one hand as she applied mascara to each of my lashes with the other, Emily let me rest my chin on her fingertip as she painted my lips a vibrant red, and Lily stroked my hair as she marked my cheeks with blush. They cooed and called me pretty, and Lily's blush felt superfluous.

I presented each of them with a gift: An Adventure Time tarot deck for Lily, a sharpening stone for Emily, a guide to mushrooms for Alice. They accepted the gifts, and gave me gifts in return: a simple black choker from Lily, a bottle of amyl nitrite from Emily, a stack of trans zines from Alice. My voice cracked a little as I thanked them, and cracked a little more after they watched me take a few long, heady hits from the poppers bottle.

Alice asked me if I was ready to recieve communion; I begged her, please, yes.

She took a blister pack of 2mg estradiol and popped out a single blue pill. I knelt and looked up at her, eyes open, heart thumping, mouth wide.

She placed the tiny pill on my tongue and said, 'Sophie, this bread is your flesh, which is given to you.'

Then, she stood up, unzipped her jeans, pulled her limp cock out of her underwear and pushed it between my lips, which I wrapped tight around it.

'Sophie, this wine is your blood, drink this in rememberance of yourself.'

It took her a moment to start pissing, and her urine immediately washed the pill down my throat. It tasted fucking disgusting, almost as salty as seawater with that weird, almost chemical aftertaste. It turned my stomach, and I felt euphoric as I sucked it down.

After that they praised me and called me a girl and a faggot and a whore, and I kept sucking Alice's cock until Emily wanted a blowjob too, and from there it turned into regular lesbian sex, Lily's chastity cage clinking fruitlessly against mine as Emily went around biting us both and Alice had me lick her armpit clean of sweat, fingering and kissing and pinching until we all got tired enough to start watching movies in Emily's bed.

I got up and fetched drinks and sandwiches for everyone and something happened between aftercare, the aftermath of a religious service, and an after-action report. They all kept calling me a pretty girl, which I *really* liked, and Alice asked me how the whole thing had turned out, if I felt anything had changed, and I had to eat two salami and cucumber sandwiches before I could figure out my answer.

Something had changed, but the change had happened months ago, and it had taken communion for me to see it. It didn't clear up my questions or reveal hidden knowledge, I don't know if I'm a she/her boy or a he/him girl, I don't know if I'm actually a woman or just not at all a man, I don't know if this is a thing I've become or if I've been this all along and it's taken this long to discover it. I don't even know if I've really settled on Sophie.

All I got from communion, from this sacred connection of love and knowledge from other trans girls to me, was surety in the things I already kinda knew:

I'm transgender as fuck and I'm a big fucking dyke.

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 23

Word Count: 4,542

POV: Starts with the Reader then switches to Sid’s

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is so late tonight, but well you know life, but here it is finally. Last when we saw these two, Sid had screwed up when he tried to apologize to (Y/N) and accused (Y/N) of flying back to Pittsburgh and sleeping with another man, his teammate. Now let’s find out what happened. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

READER'S POV

 "Are you ok?" Matt asked, throwing an arm around you as your head hung low in your hands. You could tell by his soft voice he wasn't sure if you were crying or not. Oh, you could that was for sure, but not from sadness, it was out of anger.

"No," you mumbled, then stood up and started to pace the floor. "I'm pissed off."

 "I can tell," Cully answered as he watched you move around the great room.

 "Who does he think he is?" It was a rhetorical question, so Matt stayed quiet. "I can't believe he has the nerve to think that I would just fly home to Pittsburgh and just jump in bed with someone. And that for him to think that I would sleep with you!" That came out a bit harsher than you intended. "Not that you're not hot or anything, but you're Dad, you know, and then there's Bridget and…"

 "I get it, (Y/N)." Matt chimed in saving you from further embarrassment.

 "He's just so fucking frustrating." You plopped back down on the couch next to Matt. "He never asked me to move in, you know. He just thinks I'm a mind reader or something. I mean sure I would've loved to move in, had he asked, but did he? NO!" You fought the urge to jump off of the sofa and start pacing again. There was so much tension and frustration that was bundled up inside you, that you just needed to get this nervous energy out of your system. Instead, you reached for the carton of sweet and sour chicken you'd order and shoved a piece in your mouth. It tasted like the cardboard it came in, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with the nasty after-taste your conversation with Sid had left in your mouth. "I don't really think I'm being unreasonable here…do you?"

 By the look on Matt's face, he was still trying to figure out what you'd said as you hadn't even swallowed the chicken before rambling again. He finished chewing his egg roll, like any normal civilized human being would, though at the moment you didn't feel normal or polite before he answered you. "First off, you're right he should've asked you about moving in." Matt could tell you were about to interrupt him, so he quickly continued. "And you're right about him jumping to a big conclusion about you sleeping with someone, though honestly, I'm quite a catch, just ask Bridget I'm sure she'll tell you that."

 "You are," you said giving him a little wink, even though you'd never looked at him that way.

 "Thank you, now as I was saying, and I'm not trying to make excuses for him here…"

 "I feel like there's a big but coming."

 "But," there it was, you saw it coming a mile away. "I've played with Sid for a year, but I've known him longer than that. You're like the first woman he's ever really had a relationship with. I just don't think he knows how to act." That couldn't be right, you thought. "I mean sure he's gone out on dates and taken someone to an event here or there but nothing like what the two of you have."

 You'd known that he'd been hesitant to get involved with you because he thought it would interfere with hockey but you hadn't really given much thought to him not having experience in a relationship, but what Cully was saying made some sense. "I mean think about it, (Y/N). Hockey has been his whole life until you walked in. He went from being this amazingly talented kid to a superstar center and he's had no chance to experience the stuff that went in between with it. And do you know why that is?"

 You shook your head no, wanting to hear what Cully's assessment was. "Because he's been afraid." Your brows knitted together as you tried to take in that concept. Sid wasn't afraid of anything that you knew of. Thankfully, Matt continued to explain this abstract notion to you. "He's afraid that he'll fail at it. With hockey he can control it, he can work at it. He can go out on the ice and shoot five hundred pucks until he gets that shot right. But this," Matt said, waving his hand in the air then back at you. "This thing he has with you. He has no control over it and that scares the hell out of him. There's no manual on how to be the perfect boyfriend or what to do when you have an argument, and he certainly can't go out to a rink and practice how to do it. He's afraid he'll make the wrong move, probably like he just did, and well…you'll be gone."

 Fuck. That was the only word echoing through your brain. You'd never looked at any of this through Sid's eyes, but you knew that Cully was right. You tossed your head back on the sofa cushion, looking up the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention on what you should do next. "He still shouldn't have said I was sleeping with you."

 "No, he shouldn't have." Matt attempted. "I guess the question is what do you want to do? Is what you have with Sid worth working things out? Are you brave enough to navigate the waters so to speak, where no one else has; helping him along?" You closed your eyes already knowing what you were going to do, but still thinking all your options out. "I remember a certain someone," he jabbed his elbow lightly into your ribs. "Being a bit insecure herself about dating a famous athlete not too long ago."

 You looked over at Matt, head still firmly planted into the headrest of the couch, and rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and Sid reassured me about everything." Now it was your turn to reassure him you supposed.

 "It's up to you what you want to do. The ball, or puck in your case, is in your rink so to speak."

 "I'm still mad at him," you told Cully, finally sitting upright on the couch.

 "Rightly so."

 "Which means he can stew a little bit longer."

 "Bridget would agree with you." You had to laugh at that because you had a feeling Matt's wife had left him in the dog house a time or two before he was actually forgiven.

 Blowing out a long breath, you'd come to your decision. "But I will forgive him."

 "That's my girl," Cully said then handed back over your Chinese carton to continue eating. "Now that that's settled. Can we finish eating?"

 It was a couple hours later before Matt left for the evening. "Promise me you won't let him wait forever before talking to him."

 "I won't." Though you did want him to suffer just a bit longer.

 "Good, because I have a feeling he'll be blowing up my phone until you talk to him." You walked Matt to the door.

 "Sorry, you got dragged into this mess."

 Matt leaned in and kissed your head like any dutiful dad would that was helping his daughter. "Get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

 "Night, and thanks again."

 SID'S POV

 You turned over for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour and looked at the clock. Which literally read twelve minutes after three. Exactly seven minutes from the last time you'd looked at it. Why hadn't she called already? Was she going to? She probably hated you and she had every right to. You were so fucking stupid accusing her of sleeping with someone when all you wanted to do was apologize for the first fuck up you'd made the night before. Instead, you'd gone and made things a million times worth.

 The tone of her voice said it all. (Y/N) was pissed beyond words at the accusation and you knew that had she been standing in front of you she probably would've smacked you across the face; deservingly so. There was no point in laying in bed and staring at four walls so you got up and went to blow off some steam by working out, though it didn't help.

 You were a walking zombie by the time training practice rolled around though you put every ounce of effort you had into it, at least when you weren't checking your phone to see if (Y/N) had called. She hadn't. Physically, you were exhausted and it was only six o'clock at night. Nate suggested going out for dinner but you couldn't stomach the thought of eating a nice meal knowing that your relationship was barely hanging on by a thread, so you opted out and instead just grabbed some takeout at home.

 You'd spoken to Matt a couple times, though all he would say was to give (Y/N) time. How much time though? That was the real question. Should you be jumping on a plane and flying down to Pittsburgh at this very moment or would that make this worse? You'd really made a mess of things and had no clue how to fix it.

 Sleep evaded you again that night, even though you were both mentally and physically exhausted. You finally fell asleep around four-thirty in the morning only to have the alarm go off at six. You dragged yourself out of bed and headed off to train, hoping that it would take your mind off things.

 "You look like shit, man," Nate told you as soon as you walked into the building. "You sure you want to be here today."

 "What else am I going to do?"

 Nate shrugged not having an answer of his own for you. "Have you at least talked to (Y/N)?"

 "No, I haven't called her. I'm trying to give her time."

 Nate looked you up and down a few times assessing you and weighing his words before he spoke again. "I know you're trying to give her space, but maybe you should go see her. I've never seen you like this man."

 "I want to." All you wanted to do was get on a plane and head straight to her. "I'm just not sure it won't make things worse."

 "I know she wanted you to stay and train, but honestly Sid, neither one of us is going to be pushing hard when you're completely exhausted. I'm not saying to fly back and stay in Pittsburgh. Just go there and work things out with her." Nate clapped you on the back. "For both our sakes."

 Maybe he was right. You could just fly down for the day and come right back. All you needed to do was call and get a plane. "You're right. As soon as we're done today, I'm going to call and get it all set up. I've got to win her back."

 "That's the spirit."

 Training went a little better as you formulated a plan to win back (Y/N). You were even smiling some at the end of the day. "So as soon as we get that Tim Horton's shoot done, I'm flying out. Think we can get it done by four tomorrow afternoon?" You asked Nate as you grabbed your bag and headed out of the facility. "The plane can be ready by five, so that gives me an hour to get to the airport. Think that's enough time?"

 You were looking at your schedule on your phone making sure that you could fit everything in before flying and not paying attention when you heard Nate say, "I don't think you have to worry about making that plane." You looked up at Nate not knowing why he would say such a thing when he was the one that suggested you go to Pittsburgh in the first place. He nodded his head pointing in the direction of your Suburban. There stood (Y/N) leaning up against your car.  

 You blinked once and then repeated the action, not believing that she was really there. It had to be some sort of dream. Were you hallucinating? Lack of sleep could do that to a person. But as you drew near, it became evident that she was standing there in the flesh and blood. She looked stunning, wearing a plain belted t-shirt dress; her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, with little wisps framing her face. God, you'd missed her.

 "Hey (Y/N)." Nate's voice brought you out of your musing and you shook yourself, trying to regain your composure.

 "Hi Nate," she waved back, before pushing off the vehicle.

 "Good luck," Nate told then took off for his own car.

 You were too busy staring at the woman in front of you though to pay any attention to Nate. "Hi," you whispered in a small voice, one that was shaky and unsure of how to proceed.

 "Hi, Sidney." You found yourself frown at her use of your name. It wasn't Sid, or babe, or hun, or any of the other million nicknames she called you. "Can we talk?" You wanted to, that was your whole point of planning to go to Pittsburgh for a whirlwind of twelve to sixteen hours, but now that (Y/N) was standing here, you had no idea what to say.

 "Yeah," was the only word that came out of your mouth and you wanted to kick yourself for not saying anything more.

 "Not here," she said motioning to the parking lot.

 No, this wasn't exactly an ideal place to have an intimate conversation about your relationship. "Did you want to go back to the house?" Oh god, maybe that was a bad suggestion. "Or we could go grab something to eat?" Even though that was the last thing you wanted to do.

 "The house is fine." She opened the passenger door and then crawled inside the car before you could say anything else. It took you a minute to gather yourself and walk around to the driver's side. You'd planned on coming up with a whole speech to say to her while you were on the plane. Now you had exactly nine and half minutes, if there was traffic, to think of how you were going to apologize to the woman you loved.

 The ride was silent except for the radio playing in the background. It was weird to drive like this with her. Normally your hands would be interlaced resting on the console in the middle of the car as you drove with your free hand, but as you glanced over you saw that she was sitting on hers. A clear sign that you were not supposed to touch her. It killed you and so your hands remained at ten and two on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as you fought the urge not to reach over and grab her.

 You glanced every so often at her, wondering what was going through her mind. It killed you that she wasn't saying anything. "How was your flight?" you finally blurted out when you were halfway home.

 "It was good. Had a bit of a layover in Philly. So not as good as flying privately with you."

 That flight was one you wouldn't forget. It was the first time you'd been thirty thousand feet in the air and buried deep inside (Y/N). Definitely an experience you'd thought you'd be repeating again. You hadn't expected that you'd be in the car with her now wondering if you still had a relationship.

 By the time you pulled into the driveway, your nerves were shot, wondering if (Y/N) had flown all the way just to break up with you. You tried to think logically and tell yourself that if she wanted to do that, she would've done it on the phone, but knowing (Y/N), she would have to tell you that in person and not take the cowardly way out. She followed you into the house, where you sat your bag down at the door before Sammy came wondering up for her nightly pats. "Hey Sammy, how are you sweet girl?" (Y/N) said bending down to show your dog more affection than she'd shown you.

 You coughed trying to work the lump that was in your throat out. "Can I get you something to drink?"

 "A water would be great." You grabbed two bottles out of the fridge, opening hers like you always did, before handing it over to her, both of you taking a drink.

 "(Y/N), I'm…" you started to say right as (Y/N) said "Sid, I…" The two of you laughed, even though it was hollow, it still broke the tension.

 "Do you mind if I go first?" (Y/N) asked though she didn't really need to as you'd gladly give her anything as long as she didn't say she never wanted to see you again. "I hope you know that I would never, not in a million years, cheat on you. I'm not sure how you jumped to that conclusion but I'm not that kind of person, Sid. If I wanted to be with someone else, I'd be upfront with you and tell you. I wouldn't go running off and sneak behind your back."

 When she took a breath, you jumped in. "I know that (Y/N). I truly do. I don't have an excuse for why I said that other than to say that I was jealous and upset, but I'm truly sorry for saying it. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

 "I just don't understand why you think that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I would do something like that?"

 "NO!" You shouted, not really yelling at her but wanting her to know it wasn't her fault. "I'm just stupid. Stupid and crazy in love with you, and sometimes…" you blew out a breath. "I'm just so worried I'm going to lose you or you won't love me anymore. I'm not good at this (Y/N). I've never had a relationship last over a couple weeks. I'm afraid I'll do something wrong and push you away, but that's what I did anyhow."

 "Sid," (Y/N) said taking your hands in hers. You relished even that small contact. "You're not going to lose me or do something wrong." She moved a step closer to you, and you breathed in the intoxicating fragrance that was (Y/N). "I love you silly, and yes I was upset that you didn't see my point about staying here, and we both did stupid things, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving you." Her hand came up and cupped your cheek and you found yourself melting into her touch. "We both need to learn to communicate better. No more running away, for either of us." You were surprised she was including herself in this part, but you supposed she considered taking an earlier flight to Pittsburgh running away as well. "Do you think we can do that?"

 "Of course, if you think you can forgive me for being a selfish jerk and wanting you with me all the time."

 She rocked her head from side to side a small little smile playing across her lips. "I think I can do that. Besides, I kind of like that you want me around all the time."

 You pulled her close, so that no distance separated the two of you, as you wrapped your arms around her waist. "You do huh?"

 "MmmHmm." It was then that she leaned up and captured your lips. God, she tasted like heaven. It had been almost four days since you'd kissed her, yet it felt like four million years. You poured all your love into the kiss hoping to show her how much you not only loved her but how sorry you were for everything that you had done.

 When the two of you finally came up for air, you asked her, "So when are you flying back? Tell me that there won't be a car here in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

 "It's actually thirty."

 "That would've been so much more convincing if you weren't smirking the entire time," you told her giving her hips a little squeeze.

 "You're stuck with me until Sunday night. That is if I can stay?"

 "Are you crazy? Of course, you can stay, but where's your stuff?" You distinctly remember seeing her have only her purse with her when she was leaning against the car.

 "Oh, well. I stashed it in the garage before I had the car drop me off at the rink."

 "So, you mean to tell me you planned on forgiving me all along?"

 "I had some very good advice from a mutual friend, that lead me here." She had to be referring to Cully. You definitely owed him when you got back in town.

 "Well, I'll be sure to thank him." You dropped a kiss to her lips again, just needing to touch her in any way possible. "Did you want to go out for dinner? I can change and be ready in ten minutes."

 Her arms tightened around your neck, as your hands moved up and down her sides. "I'd rather just stay in and order if you don't mind."

 "Not at all," you answered with a raise of your eyebrows. "Though there is something I have to ask you." She pulled back slightly and cocked her head to the side in question. "I was stupid before to assume that you'd just move in with me. So now, this is me asking. (Y/N), I know I can be extremely difficult and stupid at times, but there's nothing I want more than to go to sleep every night lying beside you and to have you wake up next to me every morning. Any chance of making this happen?"

 You could see her thinking it over and you weren't sure if she was trying to be cute and make you wait for an answer or if she truly had concerns. "I would love to, on one condition." It was your turn to give her that questioning look. "If it becomes too much, you know being with each other at home and at work; you'll tell me so I can move back to my place."

 "Babe, it's not going to be too much. I don't want you six feet from me now. That's not going to change."

 "I know but if it does…"

 "If it does, we'll talk about it. Like mature adults. I will not storm out of the house and go stay with Geno." She laughed then, the sound music to your ears.

 "Well, then Mr. Crosby it looks like you just got yourself a roommate."

 "And a pretty one at that," you said kissing her soundly on the lips. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

 "Maybe we should skip that and go straight for dessert?" (Y/N) was peppering you with kisses and making it hard to concentrate. This was your first fight and you weren't sure if you should just give in and go all out for makeup sex or take things slow and continue to talk things over at dinner. The last thing you needed was to make another mistake that's for sure.

 Pulling back ever so slightly from the embrace, you gazed at (Y/N). "Are you sure about skipping dinner?"

 (Y/N)'s hand slid down to your crotch where she cupped your ever-growing erection. "Yes, I missed you." You didn't ask anything more, knowing that you could always order a pizza later. Instead, your lips captured hers, stealing her breath away before you scooped her up in your arms and headed upstairs. One kiss melted into another and then to another until you were laying her down on the bed that you'd shared only days ago. The same one that had felt too big without her lying beside you.

 The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs and you weren't sure who was removing what clothing. All you knew is that neither one of you could be naked fast enough. Your lips traveled down her neck until you sucked on her nipples. Her body arching into your mouth greedily. One hand slid down her stomach, parting her thighs, leaving her open and wanting for you, as your lips started to travel the same path. (Y/N) stopped you though, her hands cradling your cheeks. "I need you inside me." As much as you wanted to feast on her pussy, the pleading tone in her voice had you giving in to not only her wants but yours as well.

 You settled yourself between her legs, grabbing her hips and edging her just that inch or two closer. You could feel the heat radiating off her body even before your cock slid between her folds. She was deliciously wet, and being inside her felt like coming home after a two-week road trip. (Y/N) was everything. She was your shelter from the worst storm. The light when only darkness surrounded you. There was no other woman in the world that was made for you like she was, and with every thrust of your hips and every kiss from your lips, you tried to tell her that. You would articulate it all into words for her later when you were holding her in your arms, but for now, you let your body speak them for you.

 Her legs started to tremble, and you could feel her fluttering around your cock, as she took you in deeper and deeper. You knew she was close and with a few more thrust, you felt her lose control. "I love you," she cried out, right as she hit that peak, and it was those words that sent you spiraling over the edge with her. Your own declaration of love spilling from your lips.

 The two of you laid there for some time. Soft kisses being exchanged here and there as your breathing returned to normal. "I don't ever want to fight with you again," you told her, as your fingers trailed up and down her heated flesh.

 "Me either." She agreed before kissing you soundly. "Though the makeup sex, was kind of fun."

 You shook your head at her, a soft chuckle escaping you. Sex with (Y/N) was always great. "While that was pretty amazing, I'd rather not have you absent from my life and my bed for four days. I was a mess without you." Just then your stomach growled. "I haven't eaten a decent meal since this whole thing went down."

 "Well then, we better feed you before you wither away to nothing." She reached over and grabbed her phone. "I'll cook for you tomorrow. Tonight, you're getting takeout and then after that, I plan on making up for lost time."

 "Sounds good, but I also plan on stocking up for our days apart." You wrapped your arms around her tightly, hating the thought that she'd be leaving in just a few short days, but you knew that when you finally got back in Pittsburgh, she would be there waiting for you, this time ready to build a home with you.  

[eddsworld-headies]

i was wondering if u could do a tord/tom with a female reader that dresses really baggy-VERY TOMBOYISH but is decked out with all types of rings and chains. doesn’t dress girly but still barely wears makeup and likes to have pretty nails at the same time.

Oh wow what a coincidence my-- OC IS JUST LIKE THAT HAHA WELL SINCE YOU ASKED MIGHT AS WELL RIGHT??

--------

Tom huffed loudly, not noticing that Tord had helped himself to sitting at the kitchen table to watch him press his forehead to the window, looking outside. He simply stayed silent, watching the brit get frustrated while opening and closing cabinets.

"Lose something?"

Tom groaned, slamming the cupboard door and turning round and facing the Norwegian with a sneer. "Screw off. I don't need you chewing my ear off." He replied grumpily, moving towards the living room and giving a quick glance around. " What, did you lose something in the bottom of your flask? Other than your self-worth?"

"EDD!" Tom shouted, making Tord roll his eyes as he stood up, following Tom as he moved up the stairs. "Jesus, don't be such a tattletail. I'll stop bothering you." "This isn't about you, Commie."

The two stopped in Edd's doorway, Tom holding onto the edge of the door trim as he leaned in. The leader of the group was jamming to some tunes at his drafting table, tablet pen in hand and hoodie wrapped around his waist.

His room was messy, seeing as he wasn't the only one occupying the room now that their newest addition moved in from America and needed a place to stay.

"Hey," Tom said loudly, moving in and lightly slapping Edd's shoulder, the tallest of the group shifting his eyes over before lifting his left earbud out. " Where's your sister?" The black eyed man asked." Huh?" "Your sister, dude, where is she?" " I dunno. She's your girlfriend, keep better track." "It's not like I have a tracker on her or something." "Then maybe you should invest in one." Edd retorted, settling his earbud back in his ear.

"Thanks for the help." The dirty blonde scoffed, pushing the second ginger of the house to the side and moving past him. "Oh!" Edd said, pulling out his earbud once more. "If you figure it out, let me know!" "Whatever!"

"You seem ever worried today," Tord started, continuing to follow the other-- much to his annoyance. " What? You fuck something up again?" " Fuck off. I haven't seen her all day. I'm just worried, Dick." "It's not like she can't take care of herself." "I know that. But she's a fucking dumbass with an impulse disorder and a can of pepper spray. Plus 4 years of law enforcement and dumb fucking defense classes in a tiny 5 foot package. The girl thinks she's indestructible and that doesn't go well with her--" "Tendency to do dumb fucking shit?" "That's putting it lightly. I guess getting into trouble runs in the family."

Tom perked up when the front door opened, Matt walking in with his hands behind his back as a much shorter figure following behind.

"Fuck, there you are-- What's with your hair?" Tom asked, moving toward his girlfriend, who's impossibly short cut hair almost replicated her brother's. " It's windy. And of course someone had to put the top down." She said, green eyes narrowing at the freckled ginger who was smiling brightly. "Oh, but look how good my hair is!" Matt whined, trying to get a bit of sympathy from his best friend's sister.

It was times like this that Tom realized, without her snake bites and brow piercing, their were only a few differences to Edd and his sister. Besides the accents, they could be twins if her eyes were a different color. And you know... If she wasn't a fucking twig.

Tom can remember how hilarious he thought the two were where they were younger. Sure, they weren't as big as they were now, but seeing this skinny short stack next to a guy like Edd and claiming them to be siblings was hilarious. But they looked a like, identical traits in each but separate none the less.

He had to admit, seeing his girlfriend without her hair pushed back was a little odd. She rarely wore it in a cowlick like her brother.

"Okay. Where did you two go off too?" He asked, noticing that the only girl in the house hand her hands shoved into the pockets of her blue zip up hoodie. The red long sleeve down to her wrists while the blue sleeves of her jacket were up to her elbows, and her tan pants and sneakers were slightly muddy. Practically all the cuffs of her pants were dirty, since she usually liked to go through puddles and mud rather than walk around a foot or two.

"We went to the mall!" Matt exclaimed, suddenly thrusting his hands into Tom's face. The shorter flinched, grabbing Matt's wrists and pushing them away to get a look at his hands. His nails were long, at least an inch and a half, and bright purple with butterflies and hearts. They were rectangles at the top and wrapped pretty nicely in a white french tip. "Aren't my nails gorgeous?"

"Yeah, their great," Tom said, letting his wrists go. " And why did you need to get your nails done?" "They were so dull before! I can't be this perfect and have dull nails! Plus, we got a 5% coupon!" Matt explained. Tom looked over to his girlfriend. " And how much did this cost?"

" 63 pounds each." She answered, her boyfriend raising a pierced brow. "Each?"

"Ah! Well yes, of course! I simply couldn't have a spa day all to myself," The ginger said as Tord took a seat on the couch, messing with his phone. "Sooo, I invited Bridget to come along!" He said, grabbing her hands out of her own pockets and revealing her nails. Long and sharp, deep blue with little piercings on them and a little blue marbling.

She smiled guiltily as Tom's eyes widened. "I mean- I couldn't not." She defended. "Bride- Baby, You're an All-star, really-" "Ah yes, just what every girl wants to hear." She teased lightly, fully knowing neither were at the "I love you stage" yest so finding a compromise was hard. "Yeah yeah- But... You're the clumsiest person I know. And you chew nail polish off your nails. In what world is this a good idea?"

Bridget blew air as her ran her hands through her hair, the front lightly sticking up in her normal do but half deflated without hair gel. " There is none- But! Listen to this!" She said excitedly, moving towards the wall and clicking her nails repeatedly on it with a wide smile, the noise loud and slightly satisfying. " Eh? Right? Isn't that great?" She asked. Tord sat up, laughing lightly. "You game for a living and the first thing you do is get acrylics-?" Bridget shushed him, moving over and running her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp as his face scrunched up.

"Don't think about the future, think about the now." "OH gOd that's horrible!" Tord groaned, cringing but laughing at the odd feeling. "Fuck it feels like your scratching my brains!" Tom rolled his pitch black eyes. " You're gonna hate those in two hours." He insisted, watching her creep closer. "Okay. I'm hearing you," She said. " But in my defense...."

Bridget moved forward, wiggling her fingers in her boyfriends face. "These are fucking sick." She whispered, her nails lightly scratching at his stubble and making his laugh and pull back from the ticklish feeling. " Fuck that's absolute shit." He chuckled, face scrunching as Edd jumped down the stairs.

"Hey! I knew I heard you-" His eyes widened as they landed on his sister, the siblings locked in a staring contest as she slowly moved her hand away, this time towards her brother.

"What the hell are those?" "Edddyyyy," "Don't you dare." "EEEEEddddddyyyy," "Bridget, I swear to god if you touch me with those things-" " I think you need a back scratch, Eddy bo' Beddy." "Get away from me you fucking dwarf!"

///////////

Tom groaned as he scratched his stomach, lazily flipping out the band of his sweatpants so he didn't have to tie them as he went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door, goosebumps forming over his chest as he reached in to grab the milk. He kicked the door close with his foot and turned to fill his glass, jumping out of his skin at the figure in the arch way to the living room and hall.

"Jesus-! Damn it, Bridget! The hell are you doing?" He asked, hand over his chest as she stared at him, eyes slightly bloodshot and wide as she stood in the arch way, his blue hoodie down to her thighs and the peaks of dinosaur boxers underneath. Her hair was spiked up now, only slightly ruffled. " Did you just finish your stream?"

"Seventy-eight," She said shakily. " Seventy-eight fffffucking run-throughs, because my fucking nails! Keep getting caught!" She whispered- but it was more of a stage whisper with her theatrics as she held her hands out awkwardly. " I want them off, Thomas." Tom stared at her for a moment, eyes wide as she looked at him with a death glare.

"..Uhhhhh," He dragged. ".... There's a Buzzsaw in the attic?"

//////

haha I really just wrote a short with my Oc in it cause I have that kinda power so suck it

( But if ya'll really want an x reader one I can write another one. It'll litterally be the same though I have a bunch more asks to get through)

[thethistlegirlwrites]

🍓Blueberry Pomegranate and 🍋Limoncello for everyone pretty please 💗💗

🍓Blueberry Pomegranate: what colors does your OC gravitate towards? Do they hate wearing a certain color? Is their wardrobe made up of one color or are they all over the place?

Magic & Silver

Robin - Robin likes blues and browns. His clothes are mostly white, brown, and shades of indigo blue, since those are colors he can get made with dyes that don't hurt his skin.

John - John likes burgundy and black. Partly because they help him blend in at vamp clubs, but also just because he knows they look good on him.

Kira - Kira loves yellow and orange. They're the colors she grew up with in her mother's apartment in Portland. They're sunny and warm to her, and they make her feel comfortable and at home.

Cody - Cody likes mustard yellow. He has no idea why.

Maira - She won't wear greens. No sage or olive. They remind her of her time spent in hospitals as a kid. She likes coral and lavender.

Emma - Emma would never admit it, but she loves pastels, especially light purples. But when she's managing her club, she maintains her image by wearing exclusively blood red and black.

Arion - Arion unironically loves black, especially black velvet. He likes the way small amounts of color like crimson or cream pop against the darkness. He doesn't like black all by itself, but he loves it with an accent color, a bit of light in the dark.

Between the Trees

Brooke - Brooke likes forest green. It lets her disappear in the treetops where she used to hide as a kid.

Aspen - Aspen likes blues. He often wears brown, though, because it doesn't show the dirt from his gardening work.

Will - Will likes browns and greens. They're warm and allow him to blend into the forest as Huntsman

Written in Ink

Jesse - Jesse likes light colors, white and tan. They're cool and comfortable when he's out working on his family's fishing boat.

Amy - Amy loves light colors and floral prints. Her style has been described by some of her co-workers as 'refugee from a studio Ghibli movie'. She sees so much darkness on her job that she likes wearing cheerful things on her personal time.

Tina - Tina likes black. She's fond of her 'punk style' clothes that she's bought from thrift stores in the human world. It's just the look she's personally most fond of, and she likes seeming a little bit dangerous to anyone from the human world who sees her. She wants them to know not to mess with her people.

Who Fights Monsters

(I don't know these guys as well yet but I'll do the ones I know)

Bridget - Bridget wears almost exclusively light cream shades, and she always makes the lace for her dresses by hand. She always looks a bit ethereal.

Joe - Joe tends to wear dark colors, black and charcoal, when he's working, with a little color like a red or blue tie. He always tries to look a bit more professional than necessary, since people don't always take a werewolf seriously, and he likes surprising people who assume werewolves always dress like lumberjacks when he shows up in a suit and tie. But at home he's more casual, and tends to wear sweaters in grey and brown that Abby had made.

Maya - Maya wears greys and browns that let her blend into the New York alleyways. Part of her magic is an ability to cast illusions that can make people overlook her, but blending in doesn't hurt and means she has to exert herself less to make the magic work.

(This got long so I'll answer the second part in another post) Thanks for the ask!

[meandmypagancrew]

Maybe What You Think Of Me Won’t Change

Did you guys know that in addition to being a gifmaker and a dollmaker, I’m also a writer? I know! I am a woman of many talents most mediocre and useless. Anyway, I wrote this little fic about Clark and Farrah from We Are The Tigers, so if you’re into that kind of thing, give it a read under the cut!

It wasn’t super uncommon for Farrah to suddenly come to and not know where she was or how she got there. So when, in her drunken haze, she had a sudden moment of clarity and found herself outside by a dumpster, she groaned. In the dim light from a streetlight, she took stock as she pushed one of her braids over her shoulder. Clothes? Still on. Phone? Not dead. Purse? There. There wasn’t any vomit or blood or anything. All in all, not the worst night she had ever had.

As she got on shaky feet, she tried to remember what had happened. Marissa had picked her up, and they went to a house party at Rich’s. She had a few flashes of the party, a red solo cup in her hand, Liz doing a keg stand, Kayla and Jason trying to subtly sneak upstairs- but then nothing. Fuck. There was no one around, so how was she supposed to get home? She pulled out her phone again and clicked the home button, being greeted by a picture of Tom Holland as Spiderman- her favorite celebrity crush- and the time 3:42. It was a Thursday, but still summer, so thank God she didn’t have to worry about being up for school. 

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. First she needed to get home. She unlocked her phone- her home screen was a picture of her and her mom when she was born, which caused her to squint, both because of the lighter color scheme being brighter and the memory of her mom- and clicked to her contacts. Family was strictly out of the question, Annleigh would kill her for waking her up, her stepmom hated her, and her dad wouldn’t be mad but he’d be so disappointed he would probably cry the entire way and making your dad cry is a soul crushing experience.

She sat back down as she scrolled through her contacts. Party friends. A guy who was her partner for a chem project last year. Former Captain Kimberly, future Captain Riley. A guy who was rumored to be a drug dealer, but was only her contact for buying alcohol. Her first try was Marissa- she got her into this, it seemed only natural she’d get her out, but it went straight to voice mail. She kept looking, her drunk mind trying to think. Her finger tapped on Bridget, a girl who had been a cheerleader at Giles Corey but transferred back to public school after her dad had been laid off. They weren’t close, but Bridget had shown her the ropes when she joined the team, and she was a night owl so she should still be awake.

Before the first ring even finished, her usual deadpan voice answered. 

“What.” She said, and Farrah struggled to not sound as drunk as she was as she responded.

“Bridged?” Despite her best efforts, her speech was a little slurred. “Canyou comeaaand git mee?”

“Farrah, it’s almost four AM.” Her voice still had no inflection. Even when sober, it was very difficult to discern where Bridget was standing, and if you were getting anywhere with her. Drunk? It was pretty much impossible.

“Yeeeeaaaaaaah… but Imm stuuuuuuck.” 

“No.” Was the response, unusually harsh for Bridget. 

“Whaa…?” She asked, though she was pretty sure she heard her correctly. It just didn’t seem right. Bridget wouldn’t just abandon her like this, right? As she had so astutely noted it was almost 4 AM- she was the only person who would be awake.

“No. I’m not your babysitter, Farrah. You got yourself into this mess, take some goddamn responsibility for your actions.”

“Buuu… butMarissa took meee dribking-“

“Did Marissa force the alcohol down your throat?” Bridget asked, a little too abruptly and Farrah didn’t respond. She knew she was right, and Bridget knew from her silence she had hit the nail on her head. “You made a choice. You deal with the consequences.”

The line went dead. Bridget’s words were true, but how the hell was Farrah supposed to get out of this? Buses weren’t running this time of night, she didn’t even know where she was, let alone how to get home- she needed help.

As she resumed scrolling through her contacts, a very depressing thought hit her. She didn’t have anyone to call. She was the girl you call for a party, not the girl you depend on when you need help. She didn’t have a single true friend she could depend on right now. There were no clutch friends. To put it quite frankly, she was completely fucked.

As she settled in against the dumpster to wait for daybreak, hoping the sun would bring with it some ideas, a memory she didn’t know she had came to the forefront of her mind. 

“I think she’s asleep.” A voice that must have been Annleigh’s said in her memory. 

She was lying down, but her eyes were closed. From the lights that occasionally shone through her eyelids, the soft rumbling, and the feeling of movement, she must have been in the backseat of the car.

“Okay.” Came another voice, male- Clark. “I’ll carry her in when we get there.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Annleigh immediately replied, and Farrah could picture the heart eyes she was almost undoubtedly making. “You’ve already done so much, helping me come get her.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied. “I’m happy to help.”

“You must get tired of it.” Annleigh replied with a sigh. “I mean, she’s not even your family.”

“Well, first off, we are all sisters and brothers in the eyes of our Heavenly Father,” She could hear the smile in his voice, and a gentle sound of contact as if Annleigh had playfully hit his arm. When he spoke again, though, the smile was gone. “In all seriousness, though, your family is my family. I will always be there for Farrah, because I love her like a sister.”

The conversation turned to some boring bullshit about theology, so she had tuned it out. But her mind kept coming back to that promise. Did he mean it? Did he say it just because he thought it would win him brownie points? Either way, it was her last possible option, so she navigated to his contact and hit call.

After a few rings, his groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Clark?” She asked, and she could almost feel him snap awake.

“Farrah? What’s happening? Is Annleigh okay? Are you okay?”

“Iiii’m fiiiiine. I need a riiide.”

Clark exhaled, and she felt a little bad for waking him up. He was probably going to do thing Bridget had. This was a speculator waste of time for everyone.

“I’m…. I don’t knoooow…”

“Do you see any landmarks?” He asked, his voice patient even though she could hear him moving about, probably grabbing his keys and heading out.

“Let me… check…” She stumbled a little bit, struggling to hold the phone and climb to her feet. “Oof, okay…”

“Farrah, what’s going on?” He asked, and she waved it off before realizing he couldn’t see her as she meandered out of the alley to the street.

“Iiiit’s fiiine. You worry too much!” 

She put a hand on the wall to steady her as she took stock of her surroundings. Sure enough, she was at a bar, but she didn’t recognize the name and found it highly unlikely Clark would either. Most of the storefronts were dark, and even the ones that weren’t, she felt like the words were spinning in front of her. 

“What do you see?” He asked, and she scrunched up her face.

“Uhhh…” She stalled but then she saw it. She thought it was maybe the most beautiful building she had ever seen in her life, down at the end of the street. “There’s a castle…”

“A… castle?” He asked, confused.

“It’s all white. It’s so pretty. It has flowers.”

“An all white building?” He tried to clarify. “The hospital?”

“No… there’s a man on the building…” She had to squint, but sure enough.

“A man on a castle that’s white with flowers?” The skepticism in his voice was so evident that even in her state she could pick up on it and it annoyed her.

“He’s golden!” She insisted, just wanting him to believe her, that she wasn’t hallucinating.

“A golden man on- the Mormon temple?” He asked, which Farrah couldn’t say for sure, but it seemed like the best bet. “Farrah, are you at the Mormon temple?”

“Nooo… I’m in front of a bar down the street…”

“Okay. Okay. Hold on.” Clark said as Farrah leaned against the wall, already feeling a hangover starting to set in. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Can you hang on for five minutes?”

“Yeah…” She replied, closing her eyes against the light filtering through the bar’s windows.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Once he hung up, she pocketed her phone after making sure it was on vibration in case something happened. She had considered doing something on her phone while she waited, but even on the lowest setting, it seemed so bright it might burn her. Out of sheer boredom, she started to undo her braids. After all, even if she slept in them, she’d have to redo them tomorrow, because they’d be messy. 

Just as she was relocating her second hair tie to her wrist, and shaking out the braid, the door to the bar opened, and a man walked out. Farrah didn’t notice him at first, busy combing her hair out, but he sure noticed her.

“Oh, hey, pretty girl.” He said and she looked up into eyes that looked at her like she was less of a person and more of a meal. Ugh. She had met so many predatory men like this, and she really wasn’t up to it right now. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“My ride is coming.” She said, both as an answer to the question and a way of informing him that there was someone who knew where she was supposed to be, so he better not try anything.

“I can take you wherever you need to go, baby.” He was almost purring, which was about as unsettling as being called baby by a stranger twice her age. “Especially if where you need to go is back to my place.”

That statement was punctuated with a wink, and she felt like she needed a shower.

“No, thank you.” She replied, trying to walk the line between being polite enough that he didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her, but not so polite that he thought she was into him and when she rejected him, didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her. 

“Aw, come on, I can make you feel reeeeal good.”

He started to advance towards her and Farrah took a step back before she realized that would just back her into an alleyway, which was a dead end. She had no option but to stand her ground.

“I said no!” She almost yelled, and he grabbed her arm.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” She tried to struggle against his grip, but he tightened his grip, which only scared her more. He was so much more powerful than she was.

“Get off of me!” Now she was yelling, a hint of desperation in her voice and he grabbed her other arm as well, which she continued to try to resist, but he was too strong.

“I said don’t be-“

“Get away from her!” She heard a car door slamming and while she couldn’t see who it was, she recognized his voice. The dude’s attention was fractured by the interruption, and his grip loosened as he looked over his shoulder. Farrah took advantage of that to pry herself from his grasp, running straight at Clark, throwing her arms around him and clutching the back of his shirt as tightly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut as she buried her face in his chest. He immediately wrapped one arm around her, holding her close.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” He sneered, and the fear in Farrah’s heart didn’t subside much. What even could Clark do? This guy, he looked like he could be a stunt double for Thor. And Clark? Clark could be the stunt double for Captain America- pre-serum.

“I’m her BROTHER!” He said, his voice taking on a hint of fierceness that Farrah had never heard before, and somehow she knew that he was going to protect her, whatever it took. “And she clearly said no, not to mention the fact that she’s 15! Take one more step towards us and I’m calling the cops on you, you pervert!”

There was a very tense moment, a pregnant pause where Farrah could feel Clark’s heart pounding against her forehead. He talked a big game, but he was terrified. If he called their bluff? The two of them together couldn’t even come close to taking him on, especially in her state. But he must have moved away, because she felt Clark exhale.

“Whatever. She’s a fat bitch anyway.” His voice was moving away, but Clark continued to hold on for several moments. He put his other arm around her before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Oh, Farrah…” 

She pulled away and looked up at him, furrowing her eyebrows at the soft murmur, confused about what he meant. Before she could ask, he pulled away even more to open the door of the car for her.

“Let’s get you home.”

She obediently climbed in, again running a hand through her hair as she checked in the mirror her reflection. Her makeup was a mess and she had definitely seen better days, but the wave in her hair was gorgeous. As Clark got into the car next to her and immediately locked the door, she expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. Even as he started the car and some sort of Christian rock- Switchfoot, maybe?- started filtering through his car speakers, a little distorted because the bass was ruined. If Farrah recalled correctly, that was because when Greatest Showman came out, Annleigh adored it so much that not only did she make Clark take her to go see it in the theatres at least six different times, it was the only thing she would listen to and she would play it whenever he drove her anywhere and was not afraid to blast it.

She expected a lecture, some kind of explosion, but instead he just stared straight ahead, clutching the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His silence was agonizing, and when she finally recognized their surroundings as he turned into their neighborhood, she braved speaking.

“Are you mad?”

“No.” He answered quickly. It wasn’t snapping at her, just a decisive statement.

“Are you sad?”

“No.” It was said the same way and she exhaled in frustration, feeling like she had to get to the bottom of this before he dropped her off, which would be soon despite the meandering streets of the neighborhood that made little sense- Clark was an expert and could navigate it like nobody’s business.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Are you annoyed?”

“No.”

“Are you disgusted?”

“Farrah, I’m worried.” He said as he pulled in front of the Victorian manor replica that she called her home. 

She was surprised that he cared so much, and surprised at herself that she also felt defensive. As he unbuckled his seatbelt to turn and look at her, she crossed her arms.

“You’re only saying that because of Annleigh. You don’t care about me. Or at least you only care about me as Annleigh’s sister.”

“Farrah, look around.” He said, and she furrowed her eyebrows, turning to him. Look at what? The dark buses that lined the pathway up to the front door? The neighbors across the street who’s porch light was green instead of normal? The empty McDonalds bag at her feet? The little pop figures from whatever weeb shit he was into on the dashboard?

“Do you see Annleigh anywhere?” Her brows still furrowed, she shook her head. Of course Annleigh wasn’t here, she would be inside asleep, like the good little girl she was. “This isn’t an act for her. I’m not even planning on telling her this happened. I’m worried about you because I care about you. Not the Farrah who’s Annleigh’s sister, but the Farrah who’s an amazing flier, the Farrah who knows all the words to Princess Bride and watches it every year on her birthday, the Farrah who hasn’t taken ballet in four years but still sometimes twirls when she thinks no one is looking. I care about the Farrah who goes horseback riding and even if she’s in a skirt refuses to ride side-saddle. I care about the Farrah who hides books in her backpack because she loves to read but would hate for anyone to find out. I care about the Farrah who sits on her phone and pretends not to pay attention to whatever’s on TV but when her dad falls asleep during the middle of an episode and then when he wakes up and asks what he missed, always knows exactly what’s going on. I care about the Farrah who found an abandoned kitten in a rainstorm and took him home and took care of him until she could be rehomed despite the fact that she’s very allergic. I care about the Farrah that named that cat Aaron Purr. I care about that Farrah a whole lot more than I care about Annleigh’s sister.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Clark had only been actively in her life for about a year, since her dad got married, but in that time he had been paying attention. She had gone through the mortifying ordeal of being known by him and she didn’t even realize. But at the same time, even though those things were all true, they all seemed so far away. When was the last time she had danced? Finished a book? Gone horse riding at all? The person he described sounded like such a nice person, she wanted her back. When she realized that, she started to cry.

“Oh- oh, no, no, Farrah, please don’t cry-“ Clark started to panic, placing a hand on her back as she dropped her head into her hands as he continued to move around as if looking for something. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, I just think you’re an amazing young woman and if you keep getting into bad situations like you did tonight, I don’t know what’s going to happen-“

“Help me.” She managed to get out through her sobs, and he suddenly stilled.

“What?”

“Help me. Please.” Once she started, it seemed like she couldn’t stop, even though the plea had to be filtered through sobs and snot. “I know I’m in trouble, but I don’t know how to stop- I can’t stop. I know everyone hates me, even my friends, and I know that it’s gone too far, but I’m scared, Clark, I’m so scared-“

“Hey, hey, shhh…” His voice brought her to an immediate halt, bringing her back to earth. She looked up at him, and even with her smeared mascara, snotty nose, tear stained cheeks, and red, puffy eyes, he didn’t turn away. He didn’t recoil in disgust. He offered her some napkins from a fast food chain he must have found somewhere with an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to your parents with you about it. If you have to go to rehab, I’ll visit you there and write. A bunch of my friends have sisters about your age, I’ll introduce you to them and maybe you’ll really hit it off and find some better friends. It won’t be easy, but I promise you don’t have to do it alone. Just say when.”

She accepted his offering and transferred her makeup from her face to the little caricature of the Grecian from the Little Ceasers logo, thinking hard about it. Right now was not an option, even with the sun beginning to appear on the horizon, she didn’t want to wake anyone up. But she also knew if she waited too long, she would lose her nerve. She was already starting to waver as she pulled herself back together. Surely things weren’t that bad, right? She could handle it on her own. But Clark was still looking at her for an answer.

“The day after tomorrow.” She finally said, and he seemed a little confused about the random time, so she explained. “The cheer sleepover is tomorrow night. You’re picking Annleigh and I up in the morning. When you drop us off, my parents should be home.”

Understanding the timeline, he nodded. It would give him enough time to research how to be a support system for her, and it would give her enough time to figure out how to backtrack, and tell Clark she didn’t really mean it and she was actually fine. That decided, she sling her purse over her shoulder and opened the car door to get out.

“Farrah?” He asked as she put her foot on the sidewalk, and she turned a little to look at him.

“Hmm?”

The light in the interior turned on when she opened the door, so she could see him clearly for the first time all night. He looked tired, but still as charismatically cheerful as ever, the human equivalent of a golden retriever. 

“Chin up, buttercup.”

He gave her shoulder a playful punch and she couldn’t help but smile back before fully getting out of the car. As she walked up to her door, she thought that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all. Maybe he could help her find the girl he saw again, and she could be better. As she opened the door she looked back. He was still waiting and gave a small wave. She waved back before taking a deep breath and stepping inside, hearing his car start up again and drive off as the door closed behind her.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Final Bow (Inglourious Basterds Fic)

Requested by @baldwin-iv​ "Hello, hope you are well. If it isn't too much trouble, I was wondering if you could do Donny meeting an Italian nationalist who works with Hans Landa during operation Kino. Thank you!"

A/N: Changed it up a little, sorry luv, it just felt weird to make it xReader so I made an OC :)

@owba-chan​ @war-obsessed​ @inglourious-imagines​ @tealaquinn​ @struggling-bee​ @frozenhuntress67​ @kwyloz​ @sodapop182​

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

_____________________________ Renatta Castelluccio was Hans Landa's escort to the premiere of Nation's Pride. He pulled her away from the crowd, and led her to meet her counterparts. Bridget von Hammersmark's  escorts.

Renatta knew exactly who they were. How could she forget the man with the scar across his throat? He dropped into her town in Italy, just before she left for Germany. Her father was a high ranking officer under Mussolini, and used her as a pawn in negotiations. She'd grown up with that regime, and believed every word of every poster and incendiary reel until she left, and saw what fascism really meant, along with the innocent blood it shed. She was contacted by the OSS, and given a chance to be a spy, and help the allies, but she feared facing a firing squad, and quickly declined. She never spoke up, not at home, and not in Germany. Renatta spent every waking moment of her life drowning in guilt, knowing what she once stood for, and what it all had led to. Still, she was smothered in fear of what would happen if she ever said a word. She was a coward, and knew she was just as guilty as the killers. Years of silence, passive smiles, and polite nods led her to this point. She could cry, beg for forgiveness from the basterds themselves, but, for what? Ruin whatever plan they undoubtedly had? "Banwjor-no." She decided once again to stay silent. She knew Hans wanted to use her to humiliate their attempt to pass off as Italians. "Graht-see."

Her eyes welled up. Once again, a pawn in a plan to fuel hate filled speeches and regimes.  She tilted her head up, looking at the blood stained banners and stolen art  planted there by the nazis. She knew she was no better than them. Renatta Castelluccio, an accessory to crime against her own nation, and a  spineless, voiceless pit of shame and regret. Her eyes fell on Donny. He was trying his best, she knew, but his eyes were momentarily fixated on her leg, peeking through a slit in her emerald green dress. She glanced hurriedly at her escort, Hans Landa, who she despised with what was left of her soul. He'd repeatedly proposed to her, and she always politely refused, saying it was not right to marry during war. Secretly, she hoped he would die in the war, or would be charged with war crimes. He didn't notice Donny's wandering gaze, he was too busy being amused at the way they pronounced their fake names. "Margherittiiiiiiiii."

Renatta half smiled, though her heart beat in her throat, as she wished to find a way to help them, and for once do something right. Soon after Landa sent the basterds on their way. As he plotted his way into Operation Kino and a path to Nantucket Island, he sent Renatta to her seat as well. Donny lagged a little behind Omar, as a crowd of drinking nazis and half naked women merged between them. Donny couldn't take a chance and call out to Omar. It was unecessary attention. But, as he waited to make his way in, he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back. Omar turned around, and saw. He raised an eyebrow, and cheekily smirked a little, before disappearing into the theater. He turned and saw Renatta, as she pulled Donny back, into an office away from the crowd. Donny grinned, trying to hide his nerves, "Buongio-" She shook her head, "I know who you are." "Uh... Sì...Antonio Marg-" "You're not Italian, I know..." She smiled softly, stepping closer to him, and touching the side of his cheek, "You're a basterd..." Before he could react, she said everything she had to amidst pleas and kisses. She told him all about Landa, how to go about it, "Whatever your plan is, he is the one you can not underestimate." Donny frowned, his hands around her waist, and pulled his head back a little, "Why are you telling me this?" Renatta looked down, and saw Donny pressing a gun against the bottom of her rib cage. She shook her head, "Because I have seen things that could've been pages from the Inferno." Donny had never read it, but it didn't sound good. "Things that should never be, sergeant..." Donny at that moment, looked into her eyes. If what people said about eyes being the window to the soul was true, then all he could see was a terrified one. "I once had the intention of being an informant for the allies, but I was a coward...Whenever I opened my mouth, no words came out. So all I've done for years is stand by. Stand by and-" Tears streamed down her cheek, and Donny tilted his head to the side, absolutely confused. He didn't feel sympathy. Not for a former fascist.  But he wanted to listen, and make sure he could trust her enough about Landa. "I've stood by and said nothing. Sometimes that's worse than actually pulling a trigger...just letting it happen. I never said..." She trailed off, looking away in shame, patting her eyes with  the back of her black satin covered hands. "Never said what?" "I never said no." He stared at her blankly, not knowing what to make of it at all, "No. Such a powerful word," She laughed softly, pathetically, as she wiped away a silent tear. "It gets you killed here, there, these day. 'No'...that could have saved at least one life. Just one..." "Why are you telling me this?" "You're a basterd, everyone that's someone to the nazis is here. You have a plan, and I want to make sure Hans doesn't stop you." "I got it.” He nodded, and reluctantly sighed,  “Go, now." "Wh...what are you talking about?" Never in her life had anyone given Renatta a second chance. "If what you say is true, this guy Landa's gonna be more worried about me and the boys than where you are. You have enough time to get out, and get far away without anyone here noticing." He fully stepped away from her, let go of her waist, and lowered his gun. He had all the information he needed. Kisses and bullets wouldn't be necessary. She shook her head. No one on either side of the war would show her any kind of mercy close to that. "I'll be shot for this, no matter how this turns out." Donny sighed, knowing the clock was ticking, and that she was right. She may have just betrayed Hans Landa, but it was not enough of a saving grace outside of Le Gamaar. He took one look at her, and saw a short, unlived life. Short enough to only have known regimes and gunfire. She looked directly into his eyes, "No matter how this turns out, what I do, I will die. Let me stay." "Stay?" "Let me watch these regimes burn," She pleaded softly, and whispered, "Senza gloria..." He shook his head, "No. Go. Get to somewhere safe..." He couldn't believe he'd just said that, but he couldn't take it back now. He looked at her, that cowardly mess, and thought if she saw Hans, she'd backtrack and fess up again. To stop that from happening, he needed her out of the theater.  "Don't go looking for Landa. Get it?" She smiled, for the first time in years, without her lips being pulled by strings of manipulation, "Grazie..." They went their ways, and Donny sat with Omar in the theater. Omar chuckled, and whispered, "Signorina?" Donny shook his head, trying to sound Italian as possible,  "Gone-o." Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Aldo and Bridget hadn't shown up, and it was almost show time. He eased his way back out, and stood at the top of the stairs, looking down over the balcony, searching for a sign of Aldo or Bridget. Instead, he saw Renatta again. She was in the lobby, speaking to Hans. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he understood that she didn't listen to Donny. What's more, Donny couldn't trust her anymore.

By default, he had to believe she broke down and told Hans about their conversation. The clock was ticking.

Donny and Omar didn't have time for this. He turned his back, and made his way back to get Omar so they could go on with Operation Kino. With or without Aldo and Bridget, this had to be done. What Donny didn't see was Renatta taking a stand for the first time in her life. She slipped Hans' gun out of his pocket. He looked down at her, eyes wide in betrayal, but his lips twisted, "You wouldn't dare, my love. You've always been so pathetic." As tears streamed down her face, he smirked, his hand reaching over the barel of the gun, "You wouldn't, you cowar-" One single gunshot, drowned out by the crowd and the reel of propaganda. One single bullet, tearing through Landa's hand, and straight through his skull. He dropped to his knees, and looked up at her, blood pouring through his nose and mouth in a betrayed, final gargled breath. She looked down for a few moments, watching as blood pooled out slowly, and collected beneath her heels, staining the bottom of her trailing dress. This was the first and only blood she did not feel sorry for. Renatta walked back up the stairs, and made her way to the opera box, without her escort, and without an ounce of regret. In a moment, smoke appeared, along with a face on the screen, with a message and a plot for revenge.

  Renatta didn't understand what was happening. But she didn't mind. She leaned back, and smiled softly with a sigh, "Che spettacolo...." 'What a show...' She watched as regimes fell before her very eyes in a blaze, as she waited to meet her end. It came unexpectedly, in a suit, and a fit of rage.

Donny Donowitz stood before her, cornering her in the opera box, "I gave you a chance." She didn't know why he suddenly seemed to retract his mercy, but she didn't question it. Whatever anger Donny felt was justified in her eyes. So, when he shot her, she said nothing. 

She looked up at him, no blame or reproach in her eyes as her blood pooled through her dress and trickled down. She took a breath, and turned away from him, and for a moment, watched the war end before her eyes. In a few moments, the entire high command was gone. Donny joined Omar back on the stairs, and were on their way out of the theater, when Donny saw a body face down in the middle of the lobby. Omar panicked, "ALDO?!" Donny shook his head, "It's not a white suit..." He ran up, and turned the body over, revealing Hans Landa's cold, dead eyes, and twisted grin. Omar looked to Donny again, "Maybe Aldo did this." Aldo would have scalped or marked him. Donny knew that. "It wasn't him..." His eyes widened with realization. The last person he saw with Hans was Renatta. It had to be her. "Go. I'll meet you outside." "What?!" Donny pushed Omar toward the exit, "I forgot something. Go, now! That's a fucking order." Omar had no choice. He walked through the smoke and disappeared. Donny ran back to the opera box, the flames nearly reaching it. "Renatta." Her eyes were beginning to close, her breathing beginning to slow, and blood pooled beneath her.  Donny was about to step into the box, but she shot up with what was left of her breath, "No!" "You killed Hans. You...you didn’t lie to me, you-" He stepped onto the box, and heard a low, loud rumble as Renatta pleaded, "Stay back!" He stopped in his tracks. If he stepped over to get her, the opera box would collapse and fall into the fire below. He crouched down, "Ok, crawl to me, we still have time. We have four minutes." She shook her head, struggling to breathe. She could hardly move. There was no more time for her. "It's too late for me, s-sergeant. Don't w-wait for me." "You don't...you don't know that!" She lifted her eyes to look at him, and saw a shade of remorse. She shook her head slowly, trying to convince him, "I'll slow you down. You have time, I don't." "I'm...I'm sorry..." She shook her head again, smiling kindly at him. He could barely hear her voice over the roar of the fire, and the last few screams below, "Don't ever be sorry for what you've done here, soldier..." She gasped for a breath, "You're a g-good man." His head tilted to the side, as he spoke softly, "Renatta..." She pulled herself up, the balcony beginning to rumble lowly again. Renatta held on to the banister of the opera box, and looked over at the hellfire, watching the final few below writhe and scream, "Leave me here. There is no other place for a coward like me on this earth." "Don't..." She turned her head a little, not enough to meet him face to face again, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye.

"Don't you understand? No matter what happened tonight, I was not going to survive the end of the war." She looked back out at the fire devouring the cinema and the high command, "Let me go," She shut her eyes and whispered, "Senza gloria... I deserve nothing more than this..."

"Renatta." "You have a minute left. Don't waste a lifetime for an inglourious moment with me." He nodded slowly and backed away from the creaking opera box. He reached the closest staircase, and looked back. All he could hear was the rumbling of the opera box, the roar of the fire, and Renatta whispering once again, “Senza gloria...” In her last moments, Renatta held her head up high, watching her impending inglourious fate approach her in silence. blood dripping down her dress, with one final smile, she watched the curtains close: The nazis' banners falling into the fire below. He left her, and made his way back outisde. He stood across the street with Omar, waiting for the grand finale. Omar broke the eerie silence as smoke began to rise above the street, "You let the Italian girl go, didn't you?" He didn’t see Donny shoot her. Donny nodded, "Yeah." Donny watched as the smoke rose, and knew that Renatta was right. No matter what he did, or she did, she was not going to live past the end of the war. No matter what happened, whether or not Operation Kino fell through, she would have been executed by the winner of the war. If the basterds failed, she would be killed as a traitor, and if they succeeded and she ran away, she’d be killed as a collaborator. She got out of it, and it was what she wanted most, to finally speak up. They watched as the cinema took its final bow, in a blaze of vengeance and ashes of atonement.

Donny nodded with a sigh, and a soft smile, hearing her voice one last time, as though it came with the wind that fueled the flames, "Senza gloria..."

[hollenka99]

The One Where Jackie Takes Each Day As It Comes

Summary: Chapter 1. Jackie may not have a home but he’s meeting some friendly faces.

@bupine @badlypostedeverything

Spotting all the daily newspapers declare it was February 13th 2019 that first morning had been rough. Part of Jackie had wanted to believe it was a really elaborate prank. But the lads wouldn't be able to do something like that. Especially given the state they'd gotten themselves in at Stuart's party. Maybe it hadn't been a bad thing that Jackie decided to go easy on the alcohol. At least he didn't enter the next century completely hammered. Seeing couples out on Valentine's Day causes him to reflect. He spent that day missing Chris, which he had been in two minds about. And Nate. God knows how he'd be able to return home to 1986, if he could at all. Perhaps getting thrown three decades into the future was the thing he needed to sort that mess out internally. The risk of the band going their separate ways because two members broke up sounded more attractive now. Sure beat them disbanding because the drummer disappeared indefinitely or was presumed dead. Yeah, he would split from Chris to be with Nate if he had the chance now. It was the old question niggling in his mind: didn't he deserve to be with the one who made him happier than the other? Not like all that relationship drama mattered much when he had no worldly possessions except for his clothes now. Fuck the shit with those two anyway. He'd rather have Caoimhe in his arms any day. Whatever happens to her with him gone, Jackie hopes she is kept safe and loved. Okay, so maybe he was going to get teary about some things. There was no point exhausting himself with tears regarding all this. How would giving himself a massive headache help matters? It got worse the more he accepted his drastic life change. Dwelling on it all hurt. Bridget, Annette and Spencer must all be adults by now. His friends were in their 50s, like he should be himself. They all must be unrecognisable to him now. Like he said, dwelling on the currently inaccessible past was redundant. Instead, he did his best to find somewhere dry to sleep at night. Days were spent on the lookout for food. At least there was a water fountain near the bus station. It's fine. It's not like this is his first time taking each day as it came. He'll manage, one way or another. It's while Jackie is preoccupied with drinking someone's discarded hot chocolate that a man approaches him. The stranger's curls remind him of how his own hair used to be, prior to its current style. Freckles litter his face too. The smile seems genuine but he's been in this situation before. Jackie decides to cautiously give this stranger the benefit of the doubt. "You know how to play guitar?" American? Canadian? He doesn't know enough about those accents to distinguish them. "...Yes." "Here." The guy holds out his guitar case. "I don't need the change anymore. Got a decent job now and all that." "Thank you but I can't." "You look like you could do with a source of income. Stealing isn't exactly a reliable method of feeding yourself. Which reminds me..." An oat bar is retrieved. Through part of the plastic wrapping, it is visibly crumbling. "I'll admit, not in the best condition. Sorry about that. Still, please take it." Well, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. "Thanks." "No problem. I'm Joel, by the way." He winks, heading a few feet away. "Jackie." The ground crumbles in front of where Joel stood. Straight up vanishes as if it hadn't existed in the first place. It wasn't like Jackie had never met someone with powers before but... it was certainly impressive to see this sort of stuff first hand. The outstretched leg, meant to be taking a step into oblivion, is retracted. There is a pause. Joel turns to face him once more. Still there is continued hesitation. "Listen, I shouldn't be saying this but... things are going to change soon. Just be careful. Anti's about and he likes targeting people who can uh, easily disappear." "Anti?" "There's a killer on the loose and I'd hate to see your face on the news for all the wrong reasons." And like that, Joel hops backwards into the hole. Jackie takes his advice and plays during the day. Playing acoustic guitar simply makes him miss rehearsals with the lads. Guitar wasn't even his instrument. That had been drums. Even so, their type of guitar had been electric. Not much comes from busking. He's rusty, he knows. He continues playing songs he recalls off by heart in the hope of earning a pound here and there. He supposes the public secretly question why he sang nothing but hits from 30 years ago. Days blur. The last time he'd bothered to check the date it had been the 21st. He didn't keep track of how many days ago that was. The wind has been blustery all day. It was for this very reason that Jackie had spent the majority of it as sheltered as he could. He notices a man passing by his spot who seems unaffected by the bad weather. He walks by as if they hadn't been suffering strong winds recently. That's not the only odd thing about the stranger. His choice of fashion is very interesting. His entire outfit is purple apart from the covered half of his face and his gloves. The white mask resembling a cat's face reached the top of his cheeks. To complete the look, the mask extends into triangular ears. Jackie feels the guy hitting his head must hurt even more with those attached. Jackie's presence must have been caught in his peripheral vision. Cat Guy halts and turns to him. Surprise transforms into a warm smile on his face. "Hey, I don't think I've seen you around here before. I'm guessing you haven't been living like this for long?" "About a week or two. Haven't been counting." "Tell me you at least have something to cover yourself with at night." "I try to find somewhere relatively warm. Ish." "Dude, it's February." "Yeah, tell me about it." Cat Guy removes his backpack. From it, he retrieves a water bottle and a blanket. "Good thing I tend to carry some stuff around. Ham or cheese?" "What?" "Sandwich." The stranger presents him with the gifts. Once Jackie takes the blanket and water, the superhero holds out an object encased in tin foil. "I tend to make ham and cheese ones. You're not vegan or a lactose intolerant vegetarian, are you?" "No. I'll uh... take the ham, thanks." "Oh, by the way, what's your name?" He could say John. Or Bartholomew. He doesn't have to say Jackie. Shit, he could say his name was Sean if he wanted, seeing as that was another form of his name. He didn't have to even provide a name that was half true. But eh, fuck it. It's not like this guy will find a Jackie Mann born in Ireland during the late 90s. "Jackie. And what should I call you, Mr Super Cat?" "Super Cat, wow." He laughs. "That's a new one. Well, I'm known as the Magnificent Cat around here. A bunch of people shorten it to Cat." Cat? Yeah, that sounds cool. The superhero carries on with his day a minute or two afterwards. He sees him tossing a sandwich and making brief conversation with the black woman situated on the corner of the street. Mondays and Thursdays rapidly become Jackie's favourite days of the week. Cat always swung by at some point in the day, making sure those living outside had certain necessities like food or some money. He had a habit of apologizing for not being able to give more than £5, as if that was a tiny amount to provide to each homeless person he catered to around the city. They typically talk but it never lasted long before Cat had to carry on with his rounds. Once, the superhero had to excuse himself due to a burglary being reported. Jackie also liked seeing this other guy who kept popping up over the days. They'd first met when Jackie had been performing Billie Jean. Marvin was a really nice, frequently sparing 2 or 3 pounds whenever he passed by Jackie. There were also their conversations. The topic didn't matter. They also varied in length but by far fulfilled his social quota better than Cat's busy schedule could. It was pleasant to have someone to talk to. Either way, he had two people in his corner which was two more than he'd expected. The first week of April is laden with rain. Waking up to a damp blanket sucked but it was hardly like he had anything else to cover himself with. At least it was gradually warming up now. The last thing Jackie wanted was hypothermia, let alone getting sick in general. He must be getting his days mixed up because he thought Cat's last visit was on a Thursday. Yet here he was, walking around as he tended to do. Jackie didn't hear him chatting with anyone else like he'd expected him to. It didn't matter. It was getting fairly late anyway. It wasn't as if Cat was prohibited from strolling around in his costume. Plus, he was under no obligation to be as social as he typically was. Saying hi to him as he passed wouldn't hurt though. "Cat! It's good to have a dry spell in the middle of all this bad weather, huh?" Jackie chuckles. "How are things going?" The superhero halts abruptly at this. It's almost like he didn't expect Jackie to be there. That was a little odd because this was his usual spot. However, he decided to brush it off as Cat having a long day. His theory is further solidified when he doesn't seem as in the mood to talk today. "Hey. Things are good." Cat smiles thoughtfully. "Actually, I've been meaning to show you this new community centre that opened recently. They're letting people sleep there if they want. It's technically within walking distance from here but it's much easier to get there by car. Want me to take you there?" He obliges Cat's generosity. They chat about how foot traffic had significantly dropped in the past few days due to the downpour. Cat points out his black car. He motions to Jackie that he'd be sitting at the back because unfortunately, there was a bunch of clutter in the front. The door is red when he grabs the handle. A couple blinks confirm it is still red. The darkness of the evening must have been confusing his ability to see colours properly. It also may be linked to this headache that's appeared out of nowhere. He really hopes this isn't a sign the rain has negatively affected his health. He'd rather focus on how lovely the interior of Cat's car was. The doors lock internally. He moves his head to direct a remark about it to Cat. Except it's not the superhero at all. There was no costume, only a dark hoodie. The first feature that causes him to stare when Cat faces him were those eyes. Was there even anything other than black in them? The hair too. He's never seen Cat without his mask on but he didn't think it would be dark green. Had Cat looked so pale all those other times? He's not certain. He definitely knows that grin belongs in Hell. "Funny how easily people will follow you if they think you're a friend. Isn't it?"

[ultravioletsoul]

Ok but I really hate Bridget/Amelie for taking advantage of Higgs, she Fragile said Amelie had given him his powers and controlled him which also made him worship her. As we know Higgs also never had any sorta loving family unit EXCEPT him mom whom he lost, I have a feeling that Amelie took advantage of that becoming a loving figure in his life and then making him do anything for her (and what he did tFragile) He wrote “Fragile forget you ever met me” clearly trying to get her to leave him alone

Hi! Oh, I get you nonnie! Considering everything Higgs went through, it’s expected that you would feel this way about Amelie. Personally, I can’t bring myself to hate her. Sure, I don’t approve of her actions in the same way I don’t approve of what Higgs did either, but imo she was in a very difficult situation too… trying to come to terms with who she is (an extinction entity), while at the same time hoping (deep down) that the next stranding could be stopped once and for all, that humanity could be saved and her visions of the future wouldn’t become true. She was tormented by horrible nightmares about the end of the world, she knew what was coming and realized that she couldn’t stop it no matter how hard she tried.

True, many of her methods were morally questionable. Of course she messed up the lives of many people in the process, there’s no doubt about it, but she was desperate to find  a solution so that the world wouldn’t face a massive extinction. The way I see it, this story isn’t about good or bad guys. All these characters have their own dramas, their troubled pasts, and there’s more to their actions and motivations than what we see on a superficial level. I think Amelie/Bridget had good intentions but in fighting against her own nature, in her race to stop the next stranding, in trying to save mankind, she only rushed the world to its inevitable end and hurt a lot of people.

That I was angry at Amelie the first time I watched the cutscenes? Yes. That I think it’s shitty what she did to others? Absolutely, but I also feel sorry for her because she didn’t want any of this either. She never asked to be an extinction entity and she was also suffering because of it. And if I can give Higgs a free pass for the awful stuff he did so I can for Amelie because I don’t see her as the bad guy of the story more than she is a victim of fate.

But I wholeheartedly agree that Higgs had such a shitty life too and that he never had a loving family. Except his mom whom he lost when he was a kid. He never met his dad since he died before Higgs was born, and then… Well, we all know what happened to Higgs while living with his uncle after his mom died.

So I don’t doubt that Amelie would maybe try to exploit that weakness to manipulate him into doing her bidding by giving him crazy powers. She gave Higgs what he most wanted in life, she made him feel like he had an important role to fulfill, a greater purpose in life as the herald of her new world. And for that, Higgs destroyed many lives too. He’s still my fave and boy do I think he needs some love. He genuinely had good intentions in the beginning, and so did Amelie/Bridget, though it’s clear it’s not enough to justify what they did.

That’s my two cents. I understand how you feel nonnie, though, because I used to think like that too. I hope my answer didn’t come off as rude ;u; thanks for the ask and I apologize for taking so long to reply. Much love to you 💞💞💞

[medea10]

My Review of Fushigi Yugi

[clown-bait]

Monster Family (Monster Roommate AU) CH9

HIATUS OVER! Im back! I had to take some time off in the fall because holy hell life got crazy! But Im back and Im determined to finish this and get the story through IT ch2 idk how long that will take me but now that Im financially stable I finallly have time to write!

CH 9 Hospital

When you're on a diet the last place you want to go to is an ice cream shop where temptation surrounds you in every corner. For Pennywise staring at a room full of screaming crying infants was like standing in an ice cream shop with a growling stomach and the world's biggest sweet tooth. 

They were so helpless and plump he could just pluck one up and swallow it whole. No one would even notice! They're all just right there! The Adam's apple of his human form bobbed up and down as he gulped and pressed a hand to the window. 

"First time dad?" A man was speaking to him he sounded disgustingly confident and joyful.

"Yes." He answered distantly.

"Aw congrats son! My wife just popped out number 3 right there! Cute little tyke, those legs look like a future football star's legs I'm tellin ya! Nice and plump gonna be a strong runner!"

Robert Grey wiped his lips with his sleeve as he stared at the squirming drumsticks. 

"So newbie which one of the little rascals here is yours? Wait don't tell me, the one with the fish eyes HA!"

Robert held back a snarl. "My offspring have not arrived yet." He said almost ominously 

"Ah hell don't be nervous pal! You'll be fine!"

"I do not get nervous." Robert did growl this time. He wanted to leave not only because this human stunk of pork rinds and grass cuttings but more so that he was stressed being in this place. There was a lot of fear in these halls possibly some of his own. His mate's seizing body was still fresh in his mind and the blood from her head was still under some of his fingernails. She will definitely kill him when she wakes up.

"Mister um Grey? Your wife is…..well she's stable will you please come with me?" A nurse called to him. Finally an excuse to leave. 

"Go get em champ!" He heard the human male call out to him. The eldritch decided that none of his offspring will be participating in this game of footballs just to avoid ever encountering this loud individual again. 

"We don't know how to tell you this sir but your wife is….well she has no pulse... Medically speaking she should be dead.." Robert stood unamused at the door of a hospital room he really did not want to be in. "I'm aware of that." He growled at the confused nurse. He should probably make her not see the fact that leech was a card-carrying member of the living dead but to be honest he wasn't focusing too much on what people saw and did not see. Most of his attention was on the strange male who insisted they came here instead of home. He didn't like the smell of him and did not like that his mind was unreadable. All he knew about him was that he knew his mate and had more than just a guitar in that case he carried. 

When the man found them it was Robert Grey's face he wore while he stood in the middle of the road. The creature frantically licked his seizing mate whos swollen stomach flashed frantically with muffled light. No matter what he did, he couldn't get it to stop and his silver desperate eyes reflected back in the approaching headlights. The following conversation was a blur,  the man apparently had met them the night before on that wonderfully brilliant bender he went on. Something about getting his mate to the hospital something about a friend who worked there….

"Sir? Are you all alright? " The nurse asked and brought the eldritch out of his thoughts. He let out a very inhuman snarl and pushed past the woman "sir! We need to discuss this more there's the matter of an ultrasound and-" Pennywise slammed the door behind him. He glanced up at the scene before him; another nurse fussed over the unconscious vampire smearing ointment on her stomach as she lay as still as a fresh corpse. He did not like the way they touched her nor the smell of the bandages on her head.

"Oh you must be the father? We're about to take a look at the baby." She said cheerfully. Pennywise's scowl did not change. 

The instrument pressed into his brood and a fang twitched over his lip. How dare this filth touch his mate and his eggs. He moved to protect but stopped when little lights began to dimly glow beneath the surface of Leech's pale skin. The nurse was mumbling something about seeing babies then she froze jaw going slack at the sight of the monitor. The infant deadlights within his vampire all shined through the screen, paralyzing their victim while rotating hypnotically just like their parent lights. The eldritch finally softened his gaze at the sight of his offspring. Pride stole his breath away from him and his scowl slowly warmed into a smile. Not even born and already making kills. He understood it all now, pride in something other than himself. Was he crying? Can he cry? Pennywise was lost in pondering these new emotions not even registering that his mate had come to and had bitten into the brain scrambled nurse. Leech hissed as she sucked the life out of the woman reflecting soulless eyes at the dumbstruck cosmic horror who was still completely mesmerized by all the strange new parental feelings it was trying to process. He didn't move till the empty body fell to the floor snapping back to reality at the sound of the heavy thud. Leech returned to a reclined position resting her palm on her churning stomach feeling the happy buzzing beneath her skin coughing and wheezing as if the blood she just consumed was her first breath of life.

A tissue dragged over her lips and one of her eyes slowly opened to watch Robert hover over her. "You're in trouble." She muttered.

"When am I not." He smirked and licked the tissue before swiping blood from her cheek particularly hard. 

"You didn't even propose you dick!" Leech growled and gingerly sat up. 

"Was tired of being bothered." Her mate tossed the tissue aside and instead switched to running his thumb over her cool lips. He licked his fingers clean with a satisfied groan. 

"That's not really the point of getting married Pen." Leech replied quietly and the mood changed fast. Robert's hands pulled away from her and a coldness filled the air. The eldritch stepped back towards the door and Leech could see the hurt on his features even if he hid it.

"..........You do not want this?" was he sad? Oh great drama queen is upset. 

"Hey I'm having your fucking babies egg head!" She blurted out trying to get out of the bed but struggled from her size. Her mate was already getting ready to walk out. "Pen don't fucking jump to conclusions. I don't want this in the way you did it! That's what has me upset!" She felt fear in her throat followed by the pain of her own children feeding off her. Tears spilled from her eyes as ichor bubbled from her mouth. "I want it to fucking mean something to you, like it does for me!" She gurgled weakly spilling black goo from her lips to the floor. Her mate did finally stop trying to leave much to her relief. She coughed and gripped the bed tightly. "I didn't even get a bachelorette party…." She could feel herself panting and she shifted back to a reclining position. "Hey, I still love you, you big drama queen. Don't ever doubt that. Can we just discuss this post offspring? I got a lot on my plate right now."  After an uncomfortable silence he turned to her with wild golden eyes. "They look like me." Was all he said. 

"They eat like you too." Leech sighed wiping her own blood from her lips. Robert's lip twitched upward as Leech shut her eyes in relief "I hate saying this but-"

"You need my help."

"You're the one who did this to me anyway." The vampire groaned and shut her eyes. "I feel so gross and bloated." She felt a hand reach under her knees and another slither around her back lifting her with ease. "Who's being the drama queen now?" He finally grinned 

"Fuck you." 

"You've already done that darling." Robert smirked with pride kissing her bandaged head. Leech traced the nail of her thumb over his cheekbone and her eldritch leaned into the touch.

"Just mouth stuff then." She smiled and kissed his soft wet lips.  

"What the hell are you doing?! Put her back idiot!" The pair froze at the shout as two men burst into the room. Pennywise's eye cracked open and rolled to the side, eyeing them both with venom. "Oh christ, they killed Bridget." The doctor groaned. Herbert West lifted the dead woman's wrist and dropped it "I suppose I can use the body for research. This will be such a mess to clean, you people are nightmares to work with I hope you know that." 

"I thought you said you didn't work with the living doc." Leech grumbled as her mate eased her back down and stood guard in front of her bedside.

"Your buddy here called in a favor."

"The guy from the bar?"

"Call me Duke darlin, Duke Rivers! Found the two of you in the middle of the road, gave you a lift." 

"I don't remember anything after passing out." Leech grumbled gingerly touching her head. 

"Shoulda seen that old bug of yours! What a worried wreck! Didn't I tell ya he'd come around?" The older man laughed then placed his coat on his shoulder. "I'll bet letting the doc take it from here, consider it my one good deed of the day. Come see my show sometime kid." 

"I- yeah, I think I will thanks." The man studied her as Robert shot a venom-filled glare in his direction then nodded at them as he slipped out. Leech barely had time to think before being roughly grabbed by the chin.

"You seem to be healing slow your um..species.. is known for regenerating yes?" West turned her head and pulled back her dressings.

"You think I'm sick?" Leech sat up taking her mate's hand.

"Do keep in mind I specialize in humans this is completely uncharted territory for me." 

"Well I'm human-shaped….most of the time…"

"I'll need you to go over weaknesses and allergies of both you and your...significant other. Something could have weakened you or the babies." 

"I have none!" Robert butted in with pride. 

"Yeah yeah lucky you." Leech grumbled. 

"And I believe I told you to wait till sunset but ohhhh no someone just haaad to go swimming."

"Oh shut up you were just as into it as I was."

"So you've been weakened by sunbathing despite knowing you're allergic to sunlight. And here I thought legendary monsters would be intelligent." The doctor sighed and turned the vampires head who hissed in annoyance. "Figures you are more vulnerable in your condition. By the rate your head injury is healing it'll take days instead of hours till you're on your feet. Hope the tan was worth it."

"Your bedside manner needs work doc." Leech muttered as he roughly redressed her wound 

"I work with the dead not the living"

"It shows." Robert nearly hissed not liking the way this other touched his mate so carelessly.

Leech rolled her eyes at him "So I don't know about you boys but i need another drink. Hook a girl up doc? Got any A negative? That shits rare!" 

"I would like a baby." The cosmic horror said cooly

"You already have babies Pe-.......wait…..no. oh no you are not eating a baby!"

"Peachy they are literally right there!" The eldritch's fangs split his face as he glared out the small window. His company looked mortified "Just one, one small soft and squealing."

"You are not eating a fucking baby!" Leech growled.

"I deserve one!" The disguised clown snarled glaring at his mate with vermilion eyes and a broken human face. 

"You already got my ass virginity today!" Leech snarled back rolling her eyes at the dramatic display.

"Things I did not need to hear at 5 am….. look I'm not stealing you rare blood types and infants for a grotesque gourmet feast. I will supply you with what you will need and then ask you people to get out of my hospital." The doctor grumbled and began to fuss with the corpse on the floor. 

 "Fine then Pen take me home, I'd rather rot in my own bed anyway." 

"I told you a couple days rest. You will live, are all of you this dramatic?"

"Only the pretty ones doc!" The vampire flashed a parting grin as they left the doctor to clean their mess. He was grumbling something about never working with the undead again. 

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

"You should be resting." Her monster’s voice hissed from under her bed. Leech shot a disinterested glance to the floor then back to her window. She felt a puff of hot moist air uncontrollably close to her face then heard a maw of teeth open "YoU sHOulD bE REsTinG." The eldritch gurgled.

"You realize the scary faces are gonna keep me awake right?" Leech cooly said and heard a set of jaws snap shut with enough force to break bones in two. 

"Things other than scary faces are keeping you up. I smell it on you." Her clown’s voice warbled out and Leech subconsciously moved for him to join her. 

"You ever look at someone you've never met and just feel like you know them?"

"No. But I am amused by this continue." The massive horror smiled through his words as he bullishly snuggled his way into his mate’s bed.

"I think I know the guy who helped us. I don't know why though." 

"Hmm too much stressing for you Mrs. Wise. But I will help put your mind at ease when you feel better. Promise promise." Leech felt soft nuzzles against her head as her mate ran his cheekbones over her skull like a cat. 

"I thought we agreed not to talk about that." Leech grumbled and turned to face her apparent "husband". "And its Grey. I like Grey on the end of my name."

"Someone's thought of this before!" Pennywise's smile widened. "Daydreaming about your clown my dear?"

"Don't embarrass me." Leech grunted and buried her face in his ruff. If she was alive, her face would be hot. "I'm not considering this official until we have a real ceremony and I get a ring. Call me old fashioned but your girl has standards."

"Hmm as you wish then Mrs. Grey!" He chuckled darkly smirking at her darkened cheeks and wide-eyed expression. 

"You fucking jackass." She muttered as her clown cackled grabbing her tight and tickling her skin. So much for bed rest.

[wankadi]

Happy 1.3k darling! I finally thought of prompt: Bellamy and Clarke are on one of those precarious rope bridges and they're the last to go across because parents. The bridge breaks under them and as they're pull up-ing across they rag on each other being out of shape. Something I love about myself? What the hell? Am I in therapy? I have these two freckles on my hand that look like cat eyes. I guess that's lovable.

Attempt no 2! THANK YOU BRIDGET And I am so sorry it took me THIS LONG like Tumblr is a mess, y’all, it took most of my prompt just like that and im writing it again! and omg jealous of freckles I love freckles fksfjs

The second they’ve heard the electric gunshots, a peaceful walk of spacekru, Clarke, Octavia and Gabriel turned into rapid, run-like-hell escape. 

The trees’ branches were cutting their faces as they fought to take a breath. Gabriel knew where to go, and so with Octavia steps behind him, spacekru with Raven a bit behind and Bellamy beside still weakened Clarke on a very end, they all tried to follow the complicated path.

They were lucky, sounds of electric waves and screams were falling more and more behind them. The woods were thicker than earlier, and so the sunlight was quite limited for a while. Bellamy got annoyed with how tired he seemed to be, comparing to others. Well, besides Clarke. Even Raven with her leg didn’t seem to sweat that much.

“At times like this, I wish I practiced more recently than a century ago,” Clarke claimed as they slowed down, between the breaths she barely took. Her face was shiny and red, eyes seemed to hardly hang on others.

“Tell me about it,” Bellamy answered, noticing at the same time the sunlight on their feet. As they moved further, the light was spreading and they saw as Gabriel’s figure stopped in a certain place. They couldn’t make the view out of it, so they came closer to him as he turned around.

Oh, they saw nothing because they w a s nothing to be. Except for one precarious rope bridge.

Gabriel straightened up, looking at exhausted people around him. “Listen up, I won’t repeat it. This bridge can hold two people at the time, so we will go separately, with few feet away from one another, got it?” and as they all nodded, he added, “There is nothing to be worried about, I’ll go first.”

Octavia took few steps forward, “I’ll go second.”

And just like that, they all got prepared and lined up. Raven took the back, doubtfully looking at the ropes. Her body weight, as always was on her healthy leg, and seeing a fear creeping on her face, Bellamy put his hand from behind on her shoulder, saying. “You got this, we’ll be right behind you.”

He glanced at Clarke to see if she agrees, as she was already nodding in agreement.

As Gabriel already made it to the other side, Bellamy turned his head to Clarke, yet not losing a sight of Octavia in a middle of the rope. “It’s just a bridge. What can go wrong?”

But shortly after that, he found out, with Clarke few feet behind on a rope, just like him, when the wind got stronger and they started to swing uncontrollably. They caught the ropes on both sides, gasping from fear.

“You know what, Bellamy?” Clarke said loudly from behind, “There is a LOT that can go wrong on a 200-years-old rotten rope bridge!”

He flipped his eyes, still aware of their situation. “Just move forward, we’re almost there.”

Yet “almost” wasn’t enough when one swing made the bridge break and forced them to keep it tight while falling. Both screaming, they hit the cliff wall. With full force. Bellamy felt dizzy, but didn’t let go. Just as he was about to check on Clarke, she said from below, “God, I hate this moon.”

And he knew she was okay. All they had to do was to climb up. Nothing hard. Not at all.

“Guys, we will pull you up but you have to go up a bit higher!” Raven screamed from above, but none of them could look up at her.

With thousands of different speculations in his head, none of them optimistic enough, he responded, “Got it!”, then, he turned to Clarke as far as he could, “Clarke, you’re good?”

And all she had to say was, “I haven’t been exercising since Praimfaya, how do you think I am?”

He huffed, shaking his head, trying to climb up as they’ve been told to do. “You’re not the only one, you know?”

By the volume of her voice, he knew she followed. “Oh, right, but haven’t you tried running around the ring? You know, with Murphy, perhaps?”

If it wasn’t for the sarcasm in her voice, he would’ve answered. But exhaustion and fear of dying only woken up his inner salty self. “Haven’t you tried running around the Earth? It’s not like someone would bother you at the moment.”

When she didn’t say anything at that, he was afraid she might had taken offense, but few feet higher, when the others started to pull them up, he heard her answer and couldn’t help but smile in victory.

“Okay, that was a good one.”

[blind-band-geek]

Maitlands! Highschool Au @blossem12

Adam was the first to pull his hand away, his face flushed red. He scrambled to pick up his books and stood up. “I’m sorry Barbara,,, I uh,, was thinking about-“ ‘SHIT’ Adams eyes darted around to some girls who stopped to look at them. “Class. Mr. Fred. You know!” Barbara smiled and laughed, “same here adam. Anyway I wanted to talk to you.” Adam felt more eyes on him as he pushed up his glasses and shuffled his feet, anxiety creeping up his back.

Barbara took note of this and tapped him a little on the shoulder. “Here um, come with me to class, it’ll be less crowded. Adam felt his eyes look up at her. Her deep brown eyes felt warm and inviting. She had a small smile on his face, and soon Adam did too. Barbara fixes her books and brought Adam to their next period, English. Adam sat at his desk and Barb fallowed leaning up against the wall, her cheeks flushed a little pink. “So what I was saying was... would you like to, go to the football game with me tonight?”

Adam tilted his head a bit, “like a date?” Barb nodded quickly, “yeah like a date.” She smiled as she nervously fluffed out her curly blonde hair, looking from the ground.. to him... back to the ground. Adam looked back at his desk, he SWORE he could hear girls giggling behind him. Was this,, a prank? A joke maybe.. the old ‘haha it was a prank to ask out the nerd’ girls would always play on him? But Barbara... was never one to do that, she was so, so nice to anyone and everyone. Why would he be any different? Adam smiled a nodded, “that would be nice.” To his Barbara beamed and clasped her hands together, “great! I’ll pick you up around.... 6?” Adam nodded, “ok! I’ll see you!” Barbara smiled and went back to her seat, completely love struck.

When Barbara sat down she pulled her letterman across her chest and fluttered her feet a bit out of joy. Barbara felt a tap on her shoulder and she let go of her jacket and turned around, her face a little red. There was her friend Bridget who was a little confused to say the least. “What’s up Miller, what’s got you so giggly?” Barbara smiled and adjusted the black and white letterman on her shoulders, “oh you knowww.” Bridget smiled and waved her hand, “tell meee, come on Barb.” Barbara smiled and pointed over to Adam, “I asked him out to the homecoming game tonight, and he said yes! Imagine that!”

Bridgets face fell a bit, “isn’t that a little mean there Miller. Fake asking out the DND kid?” Barbaras eye brows furrowed at the comment, “fake? No no I wanted to-“ Bridget smiled, “it could be funny if you pull it off miller, guess I gotta go tonight then.” Barbara tried to protest, but she had already gone back to her seat. If Bridget thought it was a joke.....

Did Adam?

-

The last bell of the day rang and Adam was the first to leave. Hurrying to his locker he basically tried to avoid Barbara as much as possible. God why did he say yes? It was obviously a set up! Maybe he could get some advice at his club later.

He closed the locker and swung his bag over his shoulder and made it down to the dnd room. There his 12 players already had assembled the room to the way they always did. Putting his bag down one of the boys looked over, “Adam! Your finally here! We were worried we’d have to have Connor dm again.” One of the boys in a robe slammed down his hands, “it was ONCE Brian! And YOU derailed the game.” There was laughing a bickering as Adam took his place at the head of the table.

“It’s fine connor the game was fun! Messy.., really messy but it was fun! I’ve gotta ask you guys on some advice first.” A few of the guys were having their own conversation but a few of them listened. “So Barbara Miller asked me out tonight-“

“It’s a set up.”

Adam shook his head, “you didn’t even let me FINISH!” Brian folded his arms taking a D20 in his hands. “Look around dude, why would SHE ask YOU out if not for a joke.” He threw the D20 into the dice rolling box and if on command it landed on 1. “See even the dice agree.” Adam took his glasses out of his glasses case, his eye brows furrowed. “She wouldn’t man, you know her.” Brian rolled his eyes, “no I really don’t. But god Adam what ever you do DONT stand her up.” Adam held his glasses and looked up, “so I’m just suposed to go, get humiliated than walk it off?” Brain kinda nodded, “its polite, plus you already said yes right?” Adam nodded. “Well you gotta do it, now start us up Dm what’s on the agenda.”

-

The time was around 5:30 and boy was Barbara LATE, she fluffed up her hair in the mirror and finished her braids. Throwing her letterman on she smiled and sprinted out the door. “Bye mom! I love you.” Her mother peaked around from the corner, “I love you too barb, be home by dinner and don’t drive recklessly.” Barbara smiled and nodded, “I won’t!-“ Barbara’s mom stopped her again, “why are you in such a rush. I thought you hated foot ball games?” Barbara glowed a bit and smiled, “I’ve got a date!!” Barbaras mom walked tward her, “awww my baby girls got a date.” She put her hands to Barbara’s face swaying her a bit. “Mommmmmm.”

Barbara’s mom let go and smiled, “Well now I have to know who it is before you go.” Barbara crossed her arms, “it’s Adam Maitland.” Barbaras mom smiled, “I know.” Barbaras face lit up, “h- how?!” Barbaras mom laughed, “because you never stop talking about him. Of all the friends I hear it’s always ‘Adam you know the weird one. ‘Adam you know the one with the cute glasses.” Barbaras face went completely red as she reached for the door, “ok ok mom I’m going byeee.”

Barbara ran down the steps and into the family car eventually putting her head onto the steering wheel. THAT is why she never tells her mom about dates she goes on. Eventually she started up the car and towards Adams house.

-

Adam panicked a bit, was Barbara late? Did she ditch him? Was he dress for NOTHING? Adam ran his hands through his hair as he paced through the quiet house. His parents had left and his brother was already at the game. He played with the cuffs of his flannel as he glanced at the glass door every so often. He was only snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a car pull up in the drive way. He looked out to see Barbara step out and nervously close the door. She leaned over the car for a second than pushed herself back up. Turning to the door she smiled at Adam and waved.

“Adam!!! Come on!!! Sorry I was late!! My mom!!”

-

The football game? Was a no go. Barbara mostly kept to herself and Adam was overwhelmed by the noise. He felt people look at him and Barbara and whisper, man this really was going to travel around wasn’t it? As the night dragged on he got colder, and Barbara was still silent. Man was it a joke? If so it really wasn’t funny. He saw Barbara’s face was a mix of discomfort and contemplation. He was about to say something when Barbara looked around that grabbed his hand, “Hey fallow me.”

Adams eyes went wide but as the half time bell rang him and Barbara slipped out from the bleachers. Walking farther away from the field Adam knew exactly where they were going. As they came closer Adam smiled a bit. It was the little marching band field over casted by trees, in the moonlight it looked like a little fairy garden.

Barbara sat in the middle of the field and brought her knees to her chest as she sighed. Adam took a seat next to her, and for a while they sat in silence. Adam was the first to speak up, “I like it out here... it’s a lot more peaceful, cold.. but nice.” Barbara laughed and took off her jacket and draped it across Adams shoulders. “Warmer?” Adam nodded and pulled the jacket around him tighter. Barbara leaned her head against Adams shoulder and looked across the parking lot. “Sorry the game was kinda a mess.” Adam laughed a little, “it’s ok... I like this better, it’s nice.. a nice first date.”

Adam clamped up at the word ‘date’ nervous he might have use the word to soon. But to Adams surprise she smiled, “Yeah it is a really nice first date.”

[carolinesiede]

My 2018 Writing Roundup

2018 was one of those years where I felt like I was frantically treading water all year, only to look up and realize I’d actually managed to swim myself to shore. The previous two years somehow felt simultaneously tumultuous and like a plateau. At first, I thought 2018 was more of the same, but looking back it was way more of a transitional year than I realized. I’m ending the year on a higher note than I started it, which is a really nice feeling. I’m in an apartment I love, feeling a bit more stable, and I even developed the ability to do a full pushup for the first time in my life, which is by far my single greatest achievement of the year!

This was my fifth year as a full-time freelance writer, and I experienced a pretty big shift in the types of articles I wrote this year—fewer short news posts and way more long-form pieces that more truly reflect my voice and opinions. I actually didn’t realize it until creating this roundup, but good god did I do a lot of writing this year. No wonder I had some pretty severe moments of burnout. I’m incredibly proud of the volume of writing I did, although I’m also frustrated that I worked this much yet still frequently struggled to make ends meet. Thankfully, after a rocky year money-wise, I found a little more stability towards the end of the year. Here’s hoping I can carry that forward into 2019!

One of my big goals for 2018 was to immerse myself more in the world of film criticism, and boy howdy did I manage to manifest that one! I quadrupled the number of films I watched this year and filled in some big cinematic blindspots. I also began writing film reviews in a regular capacity, first at Consequence of Sound and later for The A.V. Club and Alcohollywood as well. While I’ll always enjoy writing about TV (and loved covering the shows I did this year!), TV criticism is something I kind of inadvertently fell into at the start of my career. Film has always been my first love, and I’m glad I found the courage and drive to shift into this new area of writing. It’s been lovely to start immersing myself in the world of Chicago film critics too.

But by far my biggest achievement of the year (beyond being able to do a pushup, of course!) is launching my column When Romance Met Comedy for The A.V. Club. I poured my whole heart and soul into the column, both in terms of each individual entry and in terms of shaping its overall voice and making sure to cover a diverse set of films within the rom-com genre. It’s been a lot of work (way more work than is actually cost effective for me, to be honest), but I’m incredibly proud of how the column turned out in its first year. It’s also been really lovely to get so much positive feedback, both from the commentary community as well as from my A.V. Club bosses. I started my writing career with a blog about rom-coms and I find it hilarious that it took me four years to think of actually pitching that as an idea elsewhere. I’m so glad I did, and I’m having a blast planning out my slate of films to cover in 2019. (If you want to stump for your favorite, drop me a line on Twitter!)

With that, I’ll leave you with wishes for a Happy New Year and a roundup of all the major writing I did in 2018. If you enjoyed my work this year, it would mean a lot if you would support me on either Kofi or PayPal. Or just share some of your favorite pieces with your friends!

OP-EDS

My my, what the hell is up with the Mamma Mia! timeline?

A timey-wimey guide to the modern era of Doctor Who

Star Wars: Episode IX can fill Leia’s absence by embracing its forgotten queen

From femme fatale to complex superhero: The evolution of the MCU’s Black Widow

All the songs from The Greatest Showman, ranked

WHEN ROMANCE MET COMEDY

Like the best romantic comedies, Bridget Jones’s Diary is about more than just falling in love

Bringing Up Baby and the screwball comedies that delivered romance via pratfalls

After When Harry Met Sally, almost every rom-com tried to have what Nora Ephron was having

The Big Sick lovingly updated the rom-com formula with a coma and a great 9/11 joke

Something Borrowed and the phenomenon of rom-coms that hate women

In a sea of unintentionally creepy rom-coms, the original Overboard goes, well, overboard

My Best Friend’s Wedding rewrote the rom-com happy ending

Will Smith’s lone rom-com muddled its message about pickup artists and romance

Breakfast At Tiffany’s is so much more than a fashionable proto-Sex And The City

25 years ago, Sleepless In Seattle found the romantic hiding in the cynic

Before palling around with Ant-Man and the Wasp, Peyton Reed was Down With Love

You can dance, you can jive, you can love Mamma Mia! without feeling embarrassed

Maid In Manhattan let Jennifer Lopez’s rom-com talents sparkle

Pair Crazy Rich Asians with this Hong Kong rom-com classic

Jane Austen provided the romantic comedy some Sense And Sensibility

How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days set the stage for the rom-com’s downfall

Romantic comedies (briefly) came out of the closet with In & Out

Pretty In Pink is a far superior riff on the Sixteen Candles formula

How Stella Got Her Groove Back is a sexy vacation romp that explores the line between fantasy and reality

The Devil Wears Prada pulls off the perfect romantic comedy look, even though it really isn't one

Enchanted, or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the Disney princess

Why are Hallmark Christmas movies so addictive?

Without hope or agenda: A defense of Love Actually

SEASON-LONG TV COVERAGE

Doctor Who S11

Daredevil S3

This Is Us S2 and S3

Jessica Jones S2

Supergirl S3 and S4

FILM REVIEWS

Crazy Rich Asians has so much rom-com razzle dazzle it practically sings

Ben Mendelsohn battles suburban ennui in Nicole Holofcener’s The Land Of Steady Habits

Michael Shannon is refreshingly ordinary in What They Had, a family drama with focus issues

Mark Wahlberg and Rose Byrne build an Instant Family in a comedy more touching than funny

After a clumsy opening statement, RBG biopic On The Basis Of Sex effectively argues its case

Jennifer Lopez’s overstuffed Second Act offers three movies for the price of one

The Girl in the Spider’s Web: Lisbeth Slander gets an action hero makeover

Widows: An Enthralling Heist Thriller with Some Less Interesting Gangster Drama Touches

If Beale Street Could Talk: Love is a Battle, Love is a War

6 Balloons tackles the everyday agonies of the opiate crisis

I Feel Pretty takes on identity crises while having one of its own

RBG examines the complex, inspiring woman behind all the memes

Book Club does a disservice to its gifted cast of legacy stars

Set It Up is a fine, breezy rom-com for the start of summer

Ant-Man and the Wasp takes a modest quantum leap for the series

Robin Williams: Come Inside My Mind looks into the late comedian’s heart

The Spy Who Dumped Me is a fun but fairly disposable summer flick

Like Father uses the Netflix format to play around with comic conventions

Madeline’s Madeline blurs the lines of fantasy and reality

Life Itself is so bizarre it has to be seen to be believed

Private Life takes a personal, observant look at late-life reproduction

The Nutcracker and the Four Realms is a CGI mess with an earnest heart

The Grinch goes CGI and gets a fluffy, sincere modern update

TV REVIEWS/OP-EDS

Grey’s Anatomy’s lengthy existence isn’t a joke, it’s a strength

This Is Us is obsessed with killing its dad

Three years later, Supergirl is still telling the best female-centered superhero stories

Even without a resurrection, John Legend rises in NBC’s electrifying Jesus Christ Superstar Live

Sara Bareilles and Josh Groban lend an infectious energy to the wonderfully earnest 72nd Annual Tony Awards

Iron Fist season 2 feels like an entirely different show—which is mostly a good thing

13 Reasons Why puts itself on trial but can’t give up its worst impulses in season 2

Sex dreams and explosive rectal surgeries—it must be the Grey’s Anatomy season 15 premiere

Pre-Air Review: Dietland offers an ambitious, unapologetic taste of something new

Season Two Review: The messages of The Handmaid’s Tale season two resonate now more than ever

Season One Review: AMC’s Dietland aimed wide and mostly hit its marks in a chaotic first season

PODCAST GUEST APPEARANCES

Cinematic Universe: Men In Black

Cinematic Universe: Independence Day

Filmography: Wes Anderson comedies

Debating Doctor Who: Favorite guest stars part 1 and part 2

TV Party: Let’s Solve Westworld Season Two

TV Party: Appreciating The West Wing’s “Two Cathedrals”

Plus some other episodes of TV Party including this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, and this one.

MINDMEET INTERVIEWS

Bernard Avle: Human Beings Are Stories

The CyberCode Twins: A Blockchain Beacon of Hope

Jason Berlin and Tour de Crypto: A Pioneering Journey to Raise Awareness for Charity and Bitcoin

And here are similar year-end wrap-ups I did in 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, and 2013.

[dandizettes]

lets go lesbians im watching the lizzie boot

- bridget is not even bothering with the accent and i think that is VALID

- the band appears to be having. a bit of trouble. following the singers

- i really like the gal playing liz so far! her voice is pretty

- ok. well i dont really think she uh. y’know BROUGHT IT for this is not love? like. the intensity just uhhhh wasn’t there. hm. her voice is lovely but just feel like she didn't hit that peak u know

- I LOVE THE ARRANGEMENT OF GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE WOW - ok liz is lookin better here! certainly more intensity

- GUYS they really FIXED gotta get out of here oh my god it sounds so much better w/o the heavy metal distortion

- but then. on the other hand. without the heavy metal distortion u really gotta RAMP IT UP vocally 2 get that same feeling and uhhhhhh i dont really feel like its there, tbh

- im not sure if its the singers or the band but SOMEONE is messing up the timing a little

- blocking is a little weird? liz keeps pacing for like no reason

- ALICE PLANT YOUR FEET PLANT YOUR FEET YOURE SHIFTING YOUR WEIGHT ALICE ITS VERY DISTRACTING

- awww no one is doing the  “hhhhhh-ahhhhh” back up vocals in this version

- aw alice keeps trying to comfort her and she keeps pushing her away :(

- liz is doin a good job being super panicky though!! alice just wants to help. oh man she's trying so hard

- i think it was a little down tempo or the drums weren't loud enough or the actors weren’t keeping the intensity but something was a lil. off about the whole number

- i like alice’s costume and hate everyone else’s lmao

- i think alice’s mic is off? or no one is miked? idk but she's real quiet

- piano player is making some weird choices

- alice hon COMMIT to the head voice 

- oh god here we go its soul of the white bird

- lizzies doing a good job so far

- weirddddd blocking decisions. real weird blocking decisions

- liz is weirdly far downstage? while she does the “never let the boys come” part and its. detracting from the whole experience. like she's not the focal point which makes no sense because this is an important part

- oh actually i think liz did a good job with That Part of the song. u know, with That Part being what it is

- emma is still center and lizzie is up left and its still real weird

- the band is really not bringin it

-  liz has good intensity here but. theres no BUILD to the intensity so it feels jarring

- OH SHIT SHE WAS GONNA JUMP. THATS THE “lizzie don’t!” in the recording. she was going to jump off the roof

-emma babe fuckin YELL fuckin SCREAM get MAD 

- literally what the fuck is the bassist doing

- emmas getting there. a little more mad now

- never mind its gone now that she's singing

- i think they're choir ppl. not theatre ppl. thats the problem

- band is doing weird tempo things again. i think it should be swung or something? idk much about music but i know this sounds off despite not REALLY being off, tempo-wise, u know

- OOOOOOH THEYRE DOING THE DRY ICE THING

- is. is bridget wearing nikes with her dress

- this whole thing seems. under-rehearsed 

- not enough PAUSES everything is too FAST

- alice is doing GOOD with will you stay

- YES BABE HIT THOSE RUNS

- the piano player is BAD

- liz initiates the kiss the second time!! i think thats important

- mmmmm why are all these heads off. not nearly enough chaotic energy

- oooooh man some VOICE CRACKS. but they powered through it!! good for them

- piano man WHY

- mercury rising was underwhelming bc of bad blocking and piano man playing WAY too fast, but they HIT those harmonies

- OH SHIT THOSE ARE WEIRD CELLO NOISES AT THE BEGINNING OF SOMEBODY WILL DO SOMETHING!!!! I DIDNT KNOW THAT

- cellist killing it with those weird screeching rat sounds HELL yeah

- OH FUCK YEAH BRIDGET STEPPED IT THE HELL UP

- SOME!BODY! WILL D I E E E E !!!!!!!

- oh my god it is SO UNDER TEMPO

- ok. we need the distortion for this one folks. it sounds like Lizzie Does Indie Folk  without it

- well at least the drums are finally kicking in

- BRIDGET FUCK IT UP HELL YEAH

- oh these poor girls the band is playing SO SLOW

[tonystarktogo]

Secret Santa Gift Fic III

This is @thevanishedillusion‘s secret santa gift. You gave a very detailed prompt and I’m afraid this isn’t exactly what you asked for. Once I started, the character developed on its own. But I still tried to stay close to the initial premise and I hope you’ll like it anyways! Have fun and merry Christmas! :)

Fair warning: this is only the second time in my entire life that I write in second person. I did my best but it’s still a perspective I’m unfamiliar with. Also this fic contains references to character death, mental health issues, trauma and PTSD (all in references to events happening in Iron Man 1). The prompt is at the end of the fic. 

“I love you. Isn’t that just the saddest thing?”  –Quote from Elementary, S03E12

Unrequited love sucks. It sounds like a no-brainer. Something so obvious it should slap you in the face the first time it comes up in casual conversation—but it doesn’t. And sure, on an intellectual level, you’ve always known it. You’ve understood that the ‘unrequited’ is just a shorter way to say ‘no happy ending available’. You’re aware it means someone doesn’t get what they so desperately want, whom they so desperately want. But that doesn’t mean you’ve been prepared for the reality of it.

The truth is, it doesn’t just suck. It’s a bit like a sucker punch every time you see them smile—even, especially, when that smile is for someone other than you. It’s like slapping yourself over the back of the head over and over again, yet still misspelling that one word when the time for the spelling bee comes. In your case, that word was ‘misanthrope’. You always forgot the ‘h’, no matter how often your mom reminded you. No matter how often your best friend helped you practice, despite how much he hated sitting still and waiting for you to remember all the letters.

You still got it wrong when it mattered. You still didn’t duck fast enough to avoid that damn bullet that got you discharged from the closest thing you had to a home for good. And you still didn’t get the guy at the end of the story.

It sounds like the start of a Bridget Jones movie—or at least you hope so, because if your prince charming isn’t waiting right around the corner, your memoirs will make for one heck of a depressing story.

And, wow, talk about throwing yourself a pity party.

[continues under the cut]

Another truth—one you don’t care to acknowledge too often lately—is that life isn’t as bad as you make it out to be. Sure, you almost died in a bloody—in every sense of the word—terrorist attack a couple of months ago. And yeah, the first months after said attack made you wish you hadn’t made it.

But you’ve gotten past that now. For the most part. You’ve built yourself a new life, a civilian life—and who’d have thought you were capable of adjusting to it so fast, certainly not you—and it’s not what you’re accustomed to, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

You’ve got a real home now. A small flat, three rooms only, which drives your best friend up the wall every time he visits, but it’s all the space you need. Tony, of course, isn’t too happy with that explanation. He’s still pushing you, as much as he dares to anyways, to move into his tower—but so far you’ve held your own. Decades of prolonged exposure are probably the only reason you’ve managed to accomplish that particular feat. That and the trauma that you’re half-ashamed to admit you’ve used as an excuse more than once.

It’s what you need though. Your own space, away from Tony Stark and his larger than life personality, away from the papers and reporters, away from JARVIS’ all-seeing eyes, away from his beautiful assistant slash girlfriend.

Jesus, you’re starting to sound like a scorned ex again, you realise, and force yourself to push those bitter thoughts away. It’s not fair to Pepper Potts, the woman who’s managed to capture Tony’s heart after all these years. Nor is it fair to Tony himself, for that matter.

It’s not like you’ve ever had any sort of claim on him. And Tony never promised you anything, never tried to initiate something that went beyond the friendship you’ve both worked so hard to hold on to. In some ways, that actually makes it worse. Because you have no right to feel like you’ve been cast away—not when Tony keeps inviting you over for dinner like clock-work every week, not when Pepper always greets you with an honest smile, not when there’s been a floor with your name on it in Tony’s tower since long before he’s started to build it—you know that.

Tony hasn’t abandoned you. He hasn’t thrown nearly three decades of friendship away because of a woman, even one as brilliant as Pepper. That’s not the kind of man he is.

Unfortunately, none of those nice, rational facts change how you feel.

And that’s not even starting on the stomach-clenching sensation you feel every time you watch those small, but oh-so-telling affectionate gestures between them. The ones that tell you more than words ever could that Tony and Pepper aren’t eccentric boss and exasperated assistant any longer. They’re a real life, official couple.

As his best friend, you should be happy for Tony. For the happiness in his eyes, the way they glimmer when he looks at her. The fact that you can’t manage more than a tense, half-hearted smile makes you feel like the lowest scum on earth, which is why you spend a lot of time decidedly not thinking about it at all.

Sadly, avoidance only gets you so far in life. And when someone like Tony Stark is involved, that ‘so far’ isn’t very far at all. You love that dork to death, but if there is one thing Tony can’t do, it’s to let things go. He always has to pick and pick at them, until you get annoyed and lash out. Something that’s been happening more and more often lately.

It would be wrong to say that your friendship with Tony has started to fall apart ever since he confessed to being in love with Pepper. You like to think you’re not that petty, though as things currently stand you’ll never know.

Right now it’s not Pepper, who’s standing between you and Tony—or at least she isn’t the only one. There’s a whole immeasurably huge black hole titled ‘Afghanistan’ as well. And unlike Pepper, it’s not something you can throw a quick smile and apologetic last-minute cancellation at.

Afghanistan compiles all of your worst nightmares, your greatest terrors, your most horrible memories into one single word. As though anything human languages have created could adequately express what happened. What you lost. What you survived.

You’ve never talked about it, never even acknowledged it. There hasn’t been any time. Ever since Tony blew up the terrorists that held him hostage—and it should make you proud, relieved at the very least, that your civilian friend with no training managed such a feat, but all it really does is remind you that all the trained soldiers, that you, didn’t—life has been a whirlwind that shows no signs of slowing down.

But for you the world stopped turning four months ago. You lost your entire unit four months ago. You went to sleep every night with your best friend’s screams ringing in your ears for months every night since.

Of course the second Tony set foot on American soil again, he did what he’s always done: he evolved. He’s turned his company around, he’s asked Pepper out, he’s turned himself into a freaking superhero. He fought for his life on the rooftops of New York while you were trying to make it through a night without waking up shaking and screaming.

Somehow Tony has taken the trauma of those three months and compressed them into something that drives him forward—and you hate him for it, just a little, as much as you’re trying not to, because all you seem to be able to do is slow down.

Tony tries to help you, it’s not like he’s blind to your issues. Not like you could keep it from him either. But this—in this he can’t help you. You can’t let him. It’s ironic in a way: Tony is the only other survivor, the only one who was there when your world blew up around you. He was there, he’s the one best equipped to understand what you’re going through. And instead of helping you, instead of making things easier, it makes everything so much worse.

It’s why you’re here now. Standing in front of a bright building, just twenty minutes away from your home, unable to bring yourself to enter, yet unable to walk away.

Well, technically it’s Pepper’s fault—another thing you try very hard not to be bitter about. Because Pepper is smart, yes, but she’s also attentive in a way Tony has never had the patience to be, and it scares you sometimes. The way she looks at you, like she understands. Like she knows.

You met her for coffee three days ago, after months of avoiding her. Her words, pointed but gentle, like the warmth in her eyes could soothe the sting, have been haunting you ever since.

Tony is your friend, nothing will ever change that. But he can’t be your therapist. He can’t heal you, much as it pains him, and it’s not fair of you to expect him to.

You’d snapped at her, affronted, embarrassed or maybe just plain furious, and Pepper had apologised—I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place—but she never took those words back. You don’t think she could have, even if she wanted to.

The worst part, that’s about the only thing you’re currently sure of, is that she might just be right. Pepper has an annoying habit of doing that. Of getting under your skin, cutting straight through your bullshit to the heart of the matter. It’s moments like these when you realise what Tony sees in her.

And it’s because of that nagging fear, that worry Pepper has awoken in you, that you’re here now, trying to work up the courage to enter the ordinary, unthreatening looking office building. Half the time you’re convinced that this is a stupid, pointless endeavour, but even if a session with one of New York’s leading trauma therapists isn’t going to change your world—an outside view might help you get some perspective on the mess your life has turned into. Might help you sleep through the night without second-guessing your entire relationship with Tony, at least.

It still takes you another week to work up the courage and actually schedule an appointment.

*

The first time you met Tony, you were six and he was seven and the two of you were at a charity gala of some sort, bored out of your minds. You got into an argument that devolved into a hair-pulling fight, because you were taller than him and therefore insisted on calling him a baby. After your parents separated you—and you got a scolding that made you cry, you still remember that one—Tony defended you and you’d been inseparable ever since.

Sure, eventually you were forced apart by the realities of the different lives you lived. Tony joined SI straight out of college, as was expected, and he loved it like you knew he would. You, on the other hand, went against expectations and joined the military. But even though you spent less time together, the two of you remained close friends.

Looking back you can’t even tell when exactly your feelings for Tony changed. It wasn’t love at first sight or any of those other ridiculously romantic notions though, that’s for sure. You don’t think there is a precise moment where it happened either. More of a gradual process maybe. Tony has been your closest confidant for so many years that you haven’t been able to imagine a life without him in a long time—yet, thanks in no small parts to your career choice, a serious relationship has never been an option you’ve considered.

You’re honest enough with yourself to acknowledge that you only admitted to yourself how you truly feel after Tony became unavailable. Maybe you’re just that much of a selfish bitch—or maybe it was yet another attempt to sabotage the most meaningful relationship you have left.

That’s one of the questions that pains you the most. And it’s also one Meredith—your counsellor—has been unable to answer for you. You can almost hear her amused laugh at that thought. ‘I can’t give you any answers. The best I can do is help you discover them for yourself,’ is what she would probably say if she could hear you right now—and you don’t know whether it’s a good thing or not that you know that.

You don’t know a lot of things, these days.

*

The sessions help. It doesn’t feel that way at first—still doesn’t, on your off-days. In the beginning, you barely had anything to say to Meredith. Everything just seemed—too much, too big to be put into words. But it’s getting easier—not easy, mind you, you doubt it ever will be—to talk now. Even though you sometimes describe the same event four times. It gets easier to find the words, to put them to use. To work through what happened and how you feel about it.

It’s not always a flattering realisation, and certainly there are thoughts that have never made it past your lips, have never left the privacy of your own mind. But there are things you can share, and those lose some of their weight over time. A progress so slow you don’t notice it until three months have passed and the dinner invitation Tony sends you no longer invokes that crushing sense of despair-disgust-hate-want-confusion-fear it used to.

You still decline but you’re working on not hating yourself for it. ‘Your recovery comes first,’ you repeat to yourself, words Meredith uses all the time. ‘Take whatever measures you need to feel safe and comfortable.’ They used to be nothing but a string of meaningless words, but lately you’ve found yourself clinging to them, seeking comfort in them.

Lately you’ve forced yourself to admit that for all that you love Tony, for all that he means the world to you—whenever you look at him, gun fire is tearing your eardrums apart, and whenever he smiles, you feel that terrible mixture of resentment-self-disgust-affection cracking you open from the inside out.

You love Tony. Maybe you always have. But right now, you need him out of your life. Right now, all he does—if unknowingly and unintentionally—is pull you down, down, down, chains you to the worst days of your entire life. And there are still doubts creeping up on you sometimes, but you’re starting to realise that that’s okay.

You’re starting to realise that when Meredith says you’ve come a long way, she means it.

*

The first time Meredith suggests going to a group meeting, you almost walk straight out of her office again. ‘There are groups specifically for veterans suffering from PTSD,’ Meredith’s calm voice says over the roar in your ears. ‘People with similar experiences. People you might connect to and from who’s own experiences and support you might benefit.’

You’re aware that what Meredith is really trying to say is, you are not alone. And you hate that you’re so freaking self-centred still, but in that moment those words don’t bring you the comfort they are supposed to. Instead all you hear is ‘you are not that special’ and despite knowing better, despite everything, it hurts.

That night, Tony calls you for the first time in over two weeks. That night, you take a deep breath that does nothing to lessen the tight feeling in your chest, and press Ignore.

You read about a fight at Tony’s birthday party in the newspapers the next day, and are too ashamed to call him back. Ashamed because you didn’t answer your cell. Ashamed because you forgot about his birthday entirely.

*

At first, the group meetings are torture. You don’t even know why you attend your first one. Meredith brings them up on occasion, but she never outright tells you to go—“You’re a grown woman, you can make your own decisions.”—and yet there you are.

You don’t say a word that first time, barely manage to look anyone in the eyes. You feel uncomfortable, out of place, put on a spot even though nobody is approaching you either. No surprise, given the very clear leave-me-alone vibes you’re sending out.

You come back the following week though, and the week after that, even though you’re not quite sure why. You start to recognise the faces, start to remember the names they give. Start to feel like a part of the crowd. When you speak up for the first time, it feels like a huge step that has your heart racing and nervous sweat running down your back. When you speak up for the second time, it’s a giant fuck-you to your own, scary-cat self.

After that, you do it more often. You share more. You stay behind after the meetings end a couple of times, exchange short conversations with other attendees. You get to know the regulars, start recognising first timers like you used to be.

You don’t think these meetings are supposed to help when you don’t even believe in them, but somehow it sneaks up on you. The dawning realisation that nobody went exactly through what you suffered, but there are many people out there who went through something similar, many people who might not know but can still understand.

Not being special doesn’t sound as bad as it used to.

*

You don’t find out how close you’ve come to losing Tony forever until long after the drama has died down. Pepper mentions it in passing one day, during your bi-monthly lunches together that you’ve started picking up again recently. You’re still working up the courage to face Tony again, when she drops a comment about the poison and his almost-death.

That night you wake up screaming for the first time in twenty-two days. The worst part is that even now you know you’ve made the right choice when you cut him out of your life.

*

It’s Tony who calls you, just like it’s always been Tony reaching out and you blocking him off since Afghanistan. That word has started to lose some of that shadow it used to cast over you, gets easier to think these days.

That’s one of the many, many reasons why you answer when he calls you this time.

“Are you watching TV?” is the first thing your best friend asks you, and it’s simultaneously the most inane and most Tony thing he could have said.

There’s an almost laugh forcing its way out of your throat, and in that moment it’s like you’ve never been apart. Like Afghanistan never happened, like you’re still twenty-two and giggling on your smelly couch in your crappy college room. “No,” you reply and hope he can hear the I’m so sorry you’re not quite ready to voice yet.

“Good.” Tony’s voice is rough, and because you’ve known him all your life, you don’t have to ask whether something is wrong. You already know.

“What’s going on?” you ask, but he interrupts you before you’ve even finished the question.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and those are the last words you’ve expected to hear, “I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m—this is—listen, just, things got a little out of hand and I’m kind of on a timer, just—damn, I wish I’d called you sooner.” Tony laughs and it’s not a happy sound.

There’s an urgency in his voice you’ve heard only once before and it punches the air out of your lungs like you’ve taken a hit to the stomach. “I never blamed you,” you say, don’t even know where the words are coming from—except, that’s not quite true, is it? You’ve been thinking them since you first woke up in that hospital to the shuttered look in Tony’s eyes, have swallowed them down ever since. Because back then it wasn’t true and Tony would have known. You don’t know when you started to believe them, but now you do, and you want, need him to know that. “For anything. It wasn’t your fault, Tony. You had no control over what happened. And saving me was never your responsibility.”

Tony makes a strange sound then, an almost pained keen you don’t know how to interpret, and when he speaks again he sounds like he’s in a hurry. “Watch your back, baby,” he breathes, the childhood nickname back from your first meeting falling as easily from his lips as it always did, “you’ve always done the best job at that, never needed anyone’s help with it. Just—do one thing for me, alright? Don’t turn on the TV.”

The line goes dead before you can get another word out.

You call Tony back immediately, but it goes straight to voicemail. Call him again as you cross your kitchen and walk into the living room. Again as you switch on the TV. And again. And again.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” Your voice is shaking and you think you’re crying, but you can’t take your eyes off the screen long enough to check. “I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t handle it, any of it. Afghanistan broke me—I let it break me, and I know you tried to help, that’s what you always do, but I couldn’t let you. Be-Because you made it out. Seeing you, all it ever did was remind me that you did what I couldn’t, that you were stronger than I was, that you were handling things better than I was, and it hurt. It hurt so much and I felt so useless. And-and after everything that happened in that c-cave, all that time I was completely useless, and when I finally got out I still was! I couldn’t take that—I—“

Your voice breaks, maybe you’re sobbing or maybe you’ve run out of air, but you can’t stop now. Just like you couldn’t stop acknowledging that you love Tony the moment you couldn’t have him, because that’s just your thing, isn’t it?

“I’m working on it. I’m getting better and I’m sorry for locking you out, I’m sorry for pushing you away without an explanation because you deserved one. I’m sorry for expecting you to put all the work into our friendship, expecting you to reach out and support me and hold me up. I should have thought about how difficult things were for you as well, but I just couldn’t focus on anything but me—and I can’t undo that now, but I wish I had at least told you.

“You know what the worst part is?” you ask hoarsely as you watch Tony—Iron Man—your whole world—fall out of the sky in slow-motion, “I love you. Isn’t that just the saddest thing?”

*

It takes you three weeks to get up the courage to drive to the Stark Tower. When you step out of the elevator, Tony is there, dressed in an old MIT sweatshirt and loose pants, and you pull him into a hug before you can stop yourself. You don’t want to stop yourself.

And you don’t have everything figured out yet—you aren’t twenty-two any more and you threw that smelly couch out a long time ago, you still wake up screaming every so often, you still go to meetings, and you still see Meredith, and Tony and Pepper are in some sort of limbo you haven’t dared to ask about—but Tony hugs you back without hesitation.

You’re best friends, first and foremost, and for the first time in a long while you believe that that means something. You believe that it means everything. You believe that the two of you will figure it out in your own time.

@thevanishedillusion asked for a Fem!ReaderxTony Stark story set in Iron Man 1, who’s been best friends since their early childhood and who was with him in Afghanistan. Also unrequited love on her part. Not to say that it’ll stay unrequited, Tony definitely loves her, but I didn’t want to make the jump from Pepper to her too quick–it would have only made his feelings seem less genuine. Again, I took lots of liberties with your prompt but I still hope you enjoyed my take on your concept :)

One last time, merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it and a happy Sunday to everyone who doesn’t!