#he is both the luckiest and unluckiest man in the world

[commsroom]

one of the things that makes wolf 359's characterization work so well and feel so genuine is how much it's about perspective. maxwell is a manipulative backstabber in hera's story, a "gift of a friend" in jacobi's, and - from their subjective perspectives - both of them are right about her. i love eiffel, and i'm completely on his side, but... if you were kate garcia and your ex you had a toxic relationship with, a man you had to tolerate in your life because you had a child with him, who - after you were awarded full custody - attempted to kidnap your daughter, and got in an accident that left her disabled... if you thought that man was serving 26 years in prison for what he did, and then you thought he was dead, and then he showed up alive - walking free - and wanted to make amends...? would you want to hear him out? eiffel has suffered so much, and he became a better person in a way carceral punishment would never have done, but from kate's perspective, it must seem like he has never had to face consequences for anything. and that's... complicated, but it's real.

[typical-simplelove]

Nervous (E. Pettersson)

Summary: A compilation of your and Elias' relationship, based on the title song by Maren Morris.

Author's Note: It's finally here!! This is for @antoineroussel's fic exchange, and I've had the honor of writing for @ya-pucking-nerd once again! I'm sorry this coming so late in the game, but I hope you enjoy this! I had so much fun writing this :))

Warnings: implied!female reader; mentions of puking, heart attacks, and seizures (but only in a general sense and like once); mostly proofread

Word Count: 5.6k

There were many moments in Elias’ life that he knew were the most nerve-wracking moments of his life. Some moments were the typical butterflies or nerves that came from doing something new for the first time, such as learning to ride a bike. Some moments were so monumental that there was no telling if he knew what was going on. There were some moments, on the other hand, where if he didn’t control himself, Elias would puke all over the place.

All these moments spread across the span of his entire life. However, when it came to you, he was having nerve-wracking moments just about every time he saw you.

How was it possible that one person turned Elias’ entire world upside down? It was truly love at first sight, and sometimes, Elias can’t tell if he’s the luckiest or the unluckiest man in the world because while he has you in his life, his stomach just never stops lurching, and his heart never stops beating erratically, and his face is never not as hot as an oven.

Plainly, you make Elias nervous, and there’s just nothing he can do about it.

. . .

The first moment Elias met you, your back was to him. He was at one of Brock's house parties at some random time in both the season and the year. Since buying a house over the summer, Brock was obsessed with throwing parties, and they were always fun to attend.

Normally, nothing extremely exciting happened. Elias would show up, make his rounds, eat some good food, have a couple of drinks, and call it a night. Most of the team and their significant others would be at these parties, so Elias often had someone to keep him company.

This one party, though, seemed to be the exact opposite of what he was used to. None of his go-to conversationalists were in attendance, and worse, Brock seemed to treat this party as a rave. The music was too loud, the drinks were warm, and the food was atrocious.

All Elias wanted was to enjoy himself for an hour or two and then go home, but the party just sucked, and he couldn't find Brock in order to say goodbye.

Just when Elias thinks he's found his blonde friend, his entire world stops when he sees the back of your head. He's captivated by the way you're wearing your hair and just how it seems to complement the color of your outfit and the curves of your body. It's captivating, magical, and world-stopping.

It's as if there's a spotlight on you.

Like a genius, Elias just stands there, wondering how he got so lucky for an angel to fall from heaven right in front of him (he probably can't use that line on you, right?).

His heart is beating erratically. Was he having a heart attack? Was he going into cardiac arrest? Was he having a stroke? Was this a seizure? All Elias knew was that he should be checked into the Mayo Clinic for how fast his heart was beating. This couldn't be normal, could it?

In an attempt to assuage the erratic beating in his chest, Elias looks down at the ground and rubs his hand over his chest. That seems to slow down his heartbeat enough that he looks back at you, and suddenly, his heart starts acting up again.

Maybe he should just walk up to you and talk to you. What's the worse that could happen, right?

Slowly, Elias makes his way toward you. He's overthinking absolutely everything. What happens if you don't like him? What if he can't get any words out? Would you shame him for the reaction you're giving him?

His stomach drops when he sees Brock walk up to you and give you a friendly hug (note: friendly). Elias was suddenly seeing green. Of course, Brock managed to do what he wanted to do. Would you even notice him when Brock was right there?

For some reason, Elias doesn't stop walking, and within seconds, he's standing right next to his best friend.

The glistening smile that you send Elias shocks him to his core. How is it possible that you were so beautiful and friends with Brock? Neither of them was worthy to be in your presence, yet you were talking to Brock as if you two were old friends.

"Petey!" a drunk Brock yells, pulling his friend into an embrace.

"Petey?" you repeat, a questioning tone in your voice. "Is that a nickname?"

Elias has gone mute. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. All the neurons in his system have no more electrical signals, and his cerebrum is no longer working. Despite Elias' lack of response, you don't seem deterred. You continue smiling brightly and give him a reassuring look.

"This is Elias," Brock fills in, right before repeating your name for Elias. "A teammate."

"Ah, a hockey player."

Elias hopes his job isn't a problem. If it is a problem, Elias will quit hockey and get a corporate, nine-to-five job. At this point, he would do absolutely anything for you.

"Yeah," Brock replies, too drunk to say anything else, really "Anyway, I have to go greet some more guests, but you two talk and get to know each other. Elias, make sure you actually talk."

Elias can't help but roll his eyes at that, but his face still goes crimson red. He spares you a small glance, and he knows you've noticed his demeanor. Great, that must be what turns you off from him.

It appears it doesn't, though. You send him an amusing smile and take a sip of your drink.

"Hi," you say, a cheeky smile adorning your face.

"Hi" is all Elias manages to get out. He doesn't say anything else, but you can tell he wants to, so you take his hand in yours and lead Elias to some empty chairs towards the far end of Brock's backyard. Maybe some space from the rest of the crowd will help Elias open up to you.

The moment you take Elias' hand in yours, he knows he'll follow you to the ends of the earth.

Maybe he actually would be able to if he got over his nerves and talked to you.

. . .

Despite your first meeting going disastrously, you still seemed to try to want to know Elias, much to his surprise.

It was another one of Brock’s parties, but it was much smaller and only for his teammates and their families and a few close friends. The majority of the guests were seated on lawn chairs around Brock’s outdoor firepit. You were helping a few of the children make their way out to their parents when you notice that there was an empty seat next to Elias. Hoping that this might be the chance where Elias will open up to you, you walk over to him and the seat.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask.

“No,” he shakes his head. Even in the dim light of the fire, you can see the blush overcoming his face.

The smile that overcomes your face when you hear his voice is indescribable. His accent was cute, and it was decided right then and there that his voice would be the one you compare everyone’s voices to.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking the seat. “How are you tonight?”

“Fine,” he grunts out. Confused by his tone, you turn to Elias. At that exact moment, Brock opts to turn on the backlights, so the entire backyard is illuminated in light. That’s when you see how red Elias’ face is. You’re sure that if you lean your head close to his, more warmth would emit from his face than the fire just a few feet in front of you.

“I’m doing well; thanks for asking,” you tease, nudging him with your elbow playfully.

“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath, and the warmth that exudes his body is enough to overheat your body. “How do you know Brock?”

He asks as if he doesn’t know exactly how you two know each other, as if he didn’t interrogate his friend the day after meeting you, as if he didn’t already stalk your Instagram four(ty) times.

“We grew up together,” you begin. “I moved out here last year for work, and Brock’s been trying to help me make new friends.”

Elias nods and doesn’t say anything. He can’t look at you. If he looks at you, you’ll likely be able to see just how much he wants to hold you. You’ll be able to see the longing in his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Elias sees you give him a small smile before turning your head to face out toward the fire and everyone else. You have a content smile on your face; it’s as if you know. It’s as if you know that his lack of communication and terse replies aren't because he doesn’t like you but because you drive him insane, crazy, mad. He’s unable to adhere to appropriate societal norms around you, but with that smile, it’s as if you know that it’s not because of you but because of him. He wants to get out of his head and talk your ear off, but you just sitting there is enough to short-wire every part of his body.

You make him so, so incredibly nervous.

Leaning over, you whisper in his ear, “if you’re up to it, I’d love to be your friend.”

Elias turns his head towards you, slightly, and gives you a soft smile. “Yeah.”

“We’ll go on your terms,” you continue, briefly kissing his cheek before resting back in your chair.

His terms? It was going to be a long fucking ride then.

. . .

Elias finally managed to ask you out at brunch one afternoon. One of the boys was trying to implement a once-weekly brunch with a small group of people, and because they know how you make Elias feel, they included you in the list. While the invitation was to help out Elias, it was also to get more teasing and blackmail info on Elias.

You were seated right next to Elias as it was the only empty seat left by the time you got there (the other empty seat had everyone’s jackets). The minute you sat down, Elias’s body went warm from the feeling of your body wedged up against him. It was a tight restaurant, and it took everything in Elias not to spasm from the contact.

Once everyone has placed their orders and the small pleasantries amongst everyone have passed, smaller conversations overtake the table, and you and Elias are the only two sitting there not engaged in conversation. You can’t help but wonder if that was purposeful.

After taking more than acceptable sips of your drink in order to ease the awkwardness, you figure you’ll make the first move.

“How’ve you been?” you ask, nudging Elias in the arm with your elbow. At the immediate contact with your elbow, Elias’s entire body stiffens. Despite knowing that it’s not because of you necessarily, it still hurt a little bit. You quickly make yourself as compact as possible with no parts of your body touching Elias. You’re staring down at your lap, so you don’t see Elias’ slight frown.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he replies, his hand itching to touch yours.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” His pinky finger slightly prods your thigh, and you can’t help the smile that overcomes your face. “I’ve been good, by the way.”

“Good,” you continue, your brain is the one to short-circuit this time from his touch. “I’ve been good, too.”

“Glad to hear,” Elias answers. You can hear the smile on his face, so you look up, and you’re met with his piercing blue eyes. That’s enough to send shooting heat through your body.

Blinking rapidly, you whip your head away from his face from how overwhelming his eyes are. You take a sip of your ice water, but to no one’s surprise, it’s not enough to calm the heat radiating through your body.

Elias nudges you. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you say, leaning into his warmth. What was this guy doing to you?

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks, leaning down, a nervous look on his face.

You can’t help the wide smile that overcomes your face. “It’s about time you asked.”

“So, yes?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, intertwining your hand in his.

. . .

It’d been six weeks since your first date with Elias, but he still seemed tense whenever you were around.

Currently, you were sitting on his couch as he’s invited you over for a movie night. What you thought would be cuddling into Elias’s side, underneath a blanket, with Elias’ warmth surrounding you ended up being you and Elias sitting at opposite ends of his very expensive couch. Every time you shifted closer to him, he’d make an excuse to get up so that he could get as far from you as possible.

Most of the dates that you and Elias have gone on have gone well. He was still relatively tense and stiff, but you felt that you were making progress with him. This current situation, however, is proving how wrong you were.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” Elias asks at the end of the first movie.

“Just some more water?” you request, softly. What you really want is the witty and sarcastic but compassionate Elias that you’ve been getting to know these past few weeks.

“Sure,” he answers, sending you a soft smile.

When he returns with your water, he places it on the coffee table, right in front of you, and sits in his spot on the other side of the couch. You sigh.

“Is everything okay?” he questions, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Yeah, but you know you’re allowed to sit next to me, right?”

“I am?” he asks, confused.

You can’t help but laugh. “Of course, you’re allowed to sit next to me. I mean, this is a date, right?”

“Right,” Elias confirms, nodding his head briefly. “I’m sorry; I’m not very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Dating. Having someone as pretty as you be interested in me, and you make me really fucking nervous,” Elias explains. “My entire body lights on fire, and it’s like every muscle in my body is stiff.”

“Yeah, I figured that, ‘Lias,” you say through a snort.

A small smile overcomes his face at the small nickname you’ve given him. No one really calls him that, and now, he really wants you to constantly call him that, so long as he hasn’t messed things up with you.

“What do you mean?”

“Every time I go near you, you grow like another inch from how far you’ve straightened and tensed up,” you tell him. “Your face goes as red as a tomato. It’s kind of obvious, babe.”

“Babe.”

A comical smirk overcomes your features. “Babe. Do you like that?”

He nods, almost like a robot. “Very much.”

“Then, will you let me sit next to you?”

His nod is slight, but you see it, so as happy as a five-year-old on their birthday, you go to Elias’ side and let yourself feel his warmth along the side of your body.

“Well, that’s not quite close enough,” Elias murmurs. Before you’re able to ask for clarification, Elias hooks one arm underneath your thighs and another behind your back before he’s lifting you onto his lap. He adjusts himself so that you can rest comfortably on his lap. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” you whisper, your voice tickling his throat from where you’re resting along his chest.

“I thought maybe I was being too forward.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. I liked it. You know, you really confuse me.”

“How?”

“One moment you’re all ice-cold and tense, and the next you’re pulling me into your lap and holding me as if your life depends on it.”

“Well, maybe it does,” Elias remarks, tightening his hold on you. “I’m not good at this, but I really like you, so will you let me figure out how to do this?”

You nod, giving Elias a small kiss on the pulse point of his neck. “I’m not giving up on you, ‘Lias, because I really like you.”

With a blissful smile on his face and cheeks as red as wine, he leans his head against the wall behind his couch and closes his eyes. “I’m not giving up on you, either.”

And with that, Elias’ cold exterior was ripped open, and he let you in, and it was the best feeling possible.

. . .

There was no pronouncement of you and Elias officially calling each other boyfriend/girlfriend. It just fell into place. It was a seamless transition, and there was nothing you were more sure about.

As the holidays crept closer and closer, you began to decorate your apartment with little holiday and winter decorations. By the time your place was all decked out, you decided to start decorating Elias’ apartment. He was such a guy, and the only decorations he had were the ones his mother bought and placed for him or the two picture frames you gave him of the two of you for his birthday.

When you asked him about holiday decorations, he just shrugged and mentioned he didn’t have any, so you planned an excursion.

On one of his days off, you took (more like dragged) Elias to Vancouver���s iconic Christmas market. It was cold, really cold; especially with it being on the water, the wind was bitter. Your hands were cold even with gloves on, and your ears were red despite wearing a hat.

“Is your head not cold?” you ask Elias as you’re both standing in line to look at one of the artisan’s booths. You couldn’t help but notice that his hat wasn’t sitting on his head very well.

“I guess a little bit,” he mentions. “Why’d you ask?”

“Your hat doesn’t look all that warm,” you point out.

“It works.”

“I don’t think so. Bend down?”

Without a second of hesitation, Elias bends his neck so that his head is at a better angle for you. Delicately, you reach your hands up and pull the hat further down his head; it’s covering his ears and lower head much more now.

“I think this will feel better,” you say once you’ve finished. You lean into his side and bring your gloved hands up to your mouth to blow warm air on them. As you’re focusing on warming up your hands, you don’t notice Elias meticulously watching you. He wants to make a move to warm you up, but then it’s your turn to look at the goods that he waits until afterward.

Roughly twenty minutes later, you’re placing your wallet back into your purse, and Elias is getting a solid grip on the bag of the mini-winter village you just purchased. Part of it would go in Elias’ apartment, and the other half would sit in yours. He grumbled the entire time you were picking out the people and buildings, but as he always does and always will, he relented when you gave him a smile and a small, pleading “please, ‘Lias?”

“Hot chocolate, now?” you ask after a few minutes of walking when none of the other shops interest you.

“Yeah,” Elias replies. What he does next surprises you.

He takes your right hand (as he’s on your right) and intertwines his fingers with yours. He then proceeds to place your intertwined hands into his pocket. The gesture makes you flustered and silly. No one’s ever done something like that to you before, and despite being in public, the intimate act is enough to send your internal fires blazing. Who knew this man could be so romantic?

“Is this okay?” Elias asks once you’re both in line for hot chocolate. As he made the move moments prior, Elias’ heart was racing through his skin. While he felt extremely comfortable with you, his heart would still constantly race. He didn’t know if one wrong move would ruin everything. Because the relationship was still relatively new, he didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize it because, ultimately, Elias couldn’t lose you. Losing you would be quite literally the end of his world.

“More than okay,” you whisper, leaning into his side.

Those three words weren’t the “big” three words, but to him, it was the equivalent. Elias loved you, and when he got the courage to tell you, he would. But for now, he’ll sit in the comfort that he found someone who he loved more than anyone and anything. He finally understands what it means to love someone to the moon and back.

. . .

There was a beating in his ears; it sounded like drums. It was a freaking rock concert, that was how fast his heart was beating. He thought he knew what being nervous was, but nothing comes close to the nerves he was feeling right now.

What if you said no? What if he was reading the signals wrong? What if the hints he thought you were dropping weren’t really hints? What if you weren’t ready for what he was ready for? The nerves were leaving his inhibitions exposed. What if—

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears you step out of your shared bedroom. You were stunning, as per usual, but you were gorgeous tonight. Maybe it was the love and emotion he was feeling that illuminated you further tonight.

Tonight, everything would change. It would be one of the best nights of his life or his biggest heartbreak.

“Ready to go?” you ask as you slip on your jacket and adjust your heels. “You look really nice.”

“Thank you,” he replies, his smile terse. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at his tone but chalk it up to him being his usual, normal self. Despite being together for almost three years, Elias still had his bouts of terse-ness and acting up-tight with you. You didn’t mind; it was cute and endearing and it only made you love him more. “You look beautiful.”

In response, you smile and kiss his cheek. You lace your fingers in his and pull him, gently, out of your apartment and towards his car.

You don’t notice him frantically patting the right side of his sports coat, in confirmation that he had something.

By the time you and Elias reached the restaurant, Elias was a ball of nerves. His armpits were sweating, and thank goodness he was wearing gloves because his palms were so incredibly sweaty. With one look at you, though, Elias knew that everything would make sense. Everything would work out the way it was supposed to. Either way, he would manage.

There was a relatively small crowd outside the restaurant with an even bigger crowd inside in the waiting area. Restaurants on Cambie, always busy.

“I’ll go in first and confirm our reservation,” Elias tells you. “I’ll call you if they’re ready to seat us right away.”

“Okay,” you murmur, shoving your gloved hands deep into your pockets as a bitterly cold wind sweeps past you. Elias gives your forehead a small kiss and makes his way inside. When he feels how warm it is, he instantly wishes you were there, too; he could tell that you were cold.

“I’m sorry; we can’t seat you right now,” the hostess tells Elias when he gives his name and shows them the confirmation email.

“Even though I have a reservation?” Elias asks, his entire body throbbing with stress and nerves.

“We’re extra booked. Maybe you can reschedule? We’ll comp half your meal; I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It’s fine,” Elias mumbles and heads out to find you. When he sees you, Elias can’t help but feel like the night is ruined.

“Do we have to wait long?” you ask, a smile on your face despite how cold you were.

“They’re extra booked and can’t give us a table,” Elias explains. “They’re not going to be able to seat us tonight.”

“Oh,” you answer, your voice slightly faltering. “We can always have a date night at home.”

“Yeah,” Elias mumbles. His plan was all but ruined now. He pulls you into his chest. “Come here.”

Instead of wrapping your arms around his body, you bunch your arms on his chest as Elias takes the open parts of the jacket and wraps them around you.

“Ouch!” you say, reeling back a little bit. “Why do you have this hard thing on your stomach? Did you get hurt?”

He’s confused for a moment, but then he realizes what it is.

The ring box.

“Oh, it’s fine; don’t worry about it,” he quickly rushes out. He wasn’t going to ruin this for you, too (not that the restaurant thing was his fault). This part of the plan still had to work.

“No, no, it could be serious! What if it’s like a hernia or an edema or like a growth?” You immediately begin patting around his clothed abdomen and try to figure out what the issue was. “‘Lias, I’m not going to let you pretend you don’t possibly have a serious injury so that you can still play hockey.”

“It’s not an injury,” Elias barely gets out because just as he tries to convince you he’s fine, you’re pulling the velvet box out of his pocket.

“Oh,” you say, your voice shaky with shock and confusion.

“Open it,” Elias requests, and you do. You open it, and a ring is sitting inside; a ring that is exactly like the one you’ve always imagined having.

“‘Lias.”

“I was going to propose inside the restaurant, but clearly, that’s not happening, so no time like the present, right?” Elias takes the box out of your hand and gets down on one knee. The conversations around you two stop as everyone stares and contains their excitement.

“Everyone says to marry the person who feels like your closest friend, and while you’re that, that’s not why I want to marry you. I want to marry you because I love you. I want to marry you because there’s the whole part of me that went undiscovered until I met you. I want to marry you because you make me out of control. Every emotion I’ve ever had has been taken through the ceiling since I met you, and I never want to experience what life could be like without you in it, so I’m asking you, will you marry me?”

Nerves course through his body as he waits for your answer.

One moment you’re standing there, your eyes wide, and Elias is looking directly into your soul, and the next moment, you’re jumping into his arms, screaming with delight, and just like that, the final puzzle piece in his life made sense.

“I take it as a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes!”

A wide smile overtakes his face; he stands up, holding you tightly, and you wrap your arms tighter around his body. You nuzzle your face into his neck as the crowd around you two erupt in cheers.

It all fell together and made sense. Finally.

. . .

He wasn’t sure why he was so scared to ask you this. Like, he already asked you the hard question. He already asked you to marry him, so asking you what question you wanted your first dance song to be shouldn’t be freaking him out.

Planning the wedding was fun; it was exciting. He loved doing every part of it from the venue to the flowers to designing the invitations. The first dance, though. That was one of the most intimate parts of the day, and Elias wanted it to be perfect. Naturally, Elias was nervous.

Then again, everything to do with you made him nervous.

“Hey,” Elias says one night, nudging you softly.

“Hi,” you say, not quite looking up from your phone.

“What were you thinking about our first dance song being?” he asks, nerves shaking his body. He starts rambling immediately. “We can go cliche with Vanessa Carlton or Ed Sheeran or Dan and Shay or we could go completely unique and do Bach or Tchaikovsky or—”

“How about Forever to Go by Chase Rich?” you suggest, your face breaking out in a wide smile.

“I’ve never heard it before; can we listen to it?”

You immediately squeal in excitement and pull the song up on your phone and play it. Even though he’s never heard the song before, Elias knows that it’ll be the first song dance because you requested it.

He’d do anything you asked.

The first opening notes began to play, and Elias can’t help but feel like it was perfect for the two of you. It started like your and Elias’ love story, and he could picture you and him dancing to that song.

It was perfect. “That one.”

In line with the song, he loves you more than yesterday, and he can’t wait to grow in love with you.

. . .

When the final person in your bridal party walked down the aisle, Elias’ eyes went to the ground. This was what you and Elias were calling your hybrid-first look.

You were going to do a first look, but you ended up arriving at the venue late because of traffic, so in order to stick to the time schedule, you and Elias decided to forgo the first look. Instead, Elias said that he’ll keep his head down until you were situated at the base of the aisle. When you were ready, you’d nod at the minister, and they’d gesture for Elias to look up. There it is—the first look.

While his head was only down for a few seconds, it felt like forever. Truly, all today was about was a big party and signing papers. Elias wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and frankly, for him, his forever with you started years ago. He didn’t need the government to recognize it, but you wanted all of that, so Elias went through with it.

Also, refusing to get the government involved seemed like the best option considering how nervous he got just falling asleep next to you.

That’s to say, he was nervous. He was freaking out, and his breaths were short. He was so. Hot. Like, ridiculously hot. What if his hands were too sweaty and he couldn’t slip the ring onto your finger? What if his hands were too sweaty and the ring you slipped onto his finger fell off? What if he couldn’t read his vows because the sweat on his hands made the inky smudge? Was he smelly? What if the sweat from his feet makes him fall down when you’re walking down at the end?

Thankfully, his thoughts were abruptly stopped when the minister taps Elias on the shoulder. With a deep breath, he looks up, and he sees you standing at the start of the aisle with a smile on your face. You’re looking directly at him, and he can see that you’re nervous, too.

Good, because he’s so nervous.

When the Wedding March begins to play, you and the person you asked to walk you down the aisle begin to walk.

You look so stunning in your dress. It fit you so well, and it looked like you; you looked comfortable and relaxed despite how nervous he knew you were.

How in the world did he get so lucky to have you in his life?

Once you reach Elias and the minister, you give your escort a hug before making your way to Elias. He takes two strides toward you and pulls you in for a tight hug.

“I’m so nervous,” you whisper, “and I have no idea why.”

“Same, you have no idea how sweaty I am”

“We’ll just be sweaty messes together; how about that?”

Elias snorts. “Yeah, that’s good. That sounds good.”

It was forever with you; it always was going to be forever with you.

. . .

It was another one of Brock’s parties, not like the one where you and Elias first met. It was a more mellow party. Everyone was sitting on lawn chairs or picnic blankets and having soft conversations with each other.

You and Elias are sitting on separate lawn chairs, but the chairs are as close as possible to each other. Elias’ arm is hanging over the armrests with his hand in your lap, intertwined with you.

It was always a joke amongst the teammates and friends that you and Elias were inseparable. He was always by your side, and if you had to go somewhere on your own (say, the washroom), he’d be pouty until you returned. He was pretty mellow and unbearable on road trips because you weren’t there.

It’s been three years since you and Elias got married, and it’s been six years since that first party where you met Elias.

He measures his life before you and after you. Before he met you, Elias was living his life and going through the motion, and sure, he enjoyed life, but he wasn’t really living life. His life truly began when he met you and got to start living his life with you and being by your side.

That’s when his life truly began.

You were when his life truly began.

[the-clockwork-three]

tell me about these new blorbos you have reblogged very much just now. i am somewhat interested

AAAAAA thank you anon :D this is now The TGCF Zone and none of you can escape

Quick summary: these are Xie Lian and Hua Cheng from Heaven Official's Blessing, a 800k-word-long webnovel by MXTX

OKAY SO. Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù (MXTX) is a Chinese author of webnovels. Specifically danmei or Chinese BL. She has written 3 novels, all of which have now been officially published in English, with the final volume of tgcf having come out last week. Her novels are, in order of writing: Scum Villains Self Saving System (SVSSS), Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS), and Heaven Official's Blessing (TGCF), with the latter two's acronyms coming from their original chinese titles. I really like all three of these novels, although I've been on a svsss kick recently. Also I've been a tgcf fan for about a year now, just not actively blorbo-ing.

All three novels are cultivation novels. Cultivation is this idea in Asian literature and culture that comes from Taoism and myth. Basically if you meditate and train really hard in martial arts, you will gain magic powers, and eventually you could become immortal or a god. Svsss and mdzs focus on very powerful humans, but tgcf is about gods and ghosts.

Xie Lian (the guy in white in the fanart) is the crown prince of a country called Xianle. He is a good kid, and very dedicated to trying to "save the common people". A memorable thing he did was during a parade to celebrate the gods he deviated from his fight choreography (where he was playing the emperor of the gods) to save a child falling from a building. Symbolism!!! The child "falls" for him, wink wink, and Xie Lian is not afraid to to do the right thing even if that means going against what he's supposed to do etc etc.

When he was 17 years old he became a god of martial arts. But after a tragedy befalls Xianle, he gets kicked out of heaven for handling it... Poorly. He ascends for a second time as a god of misfortune but is kicked out again within half an hour.

800 years pass and he ascends for third time, this time as a god of scraps. Unluckiest man in the world, straight-up not having fun 95% of the time, but sweet and humble because the world has repeatedly crushed him to dust but it physically Cannot Kill Him so he has to cope somehow. This is where the novel starts.

Important motif: sword in one hand, flower in the other/the flower crowned martial god. While Xie Lian is very pretty and soft, he can fuck you up. Dude is obsessed with swords.

Hua Cheng is a king of the ghosts. He's mysterious. He once beat 33 gods in duels of their choice. He wears all red. He can make it rain blood. He can summon silver "wrath" butterflies. Everyone in heaven is a little scared of him. Luckiest guy in the world (except for the whole being dead thing).

But with Xie Lian he is gentle and kind. Hes always down to hang out. He doesn't mind that Xie Lian is the bottom of the pecking order of gods, he always treats him with respect. He dresSES AS A GROOM WHEN HE GOES TO PICK UP XIE LIAN WHO IS, FOR PLOT REASONS, DRESSED AS A BRIDE.

Pretty much everything about his backstory is a spoiler, ranging from "you're supposed to figure this out about 20% of the way through the book" to "literally the big twist at the end"

Whatever could be the connection between them ;) and surely one could not describe their relationship as.... Homosexual? Look they're kissing for totally normal heterosexual reasons. Xie Lian just needed the spiritual energy.

Anyways Xie Lian may be a god of literal rubbish, but Hua Cheng is forever his most devoted follower.

I love them, even if it's Been A While since I sat down and read the source material.

Tgcf also features such memorable side characters as: two guys I fucking hate, not because they're bad people but because they're annoying and boring. Rusalka and the Shepherd Girl if they were both genderfluid and gods. Cannibal ghost you can't kill because he's your cousin. The child of the body your cannibal-ghost-cousin is possessing. Even As A God This Poor Librarian Experiences Misogyny. Quan Yizhen.

The second season of the animated show is airing right, so... I guess now is as good a time to get into tgcf as ever :)

[somebodycall911onabc]

Some post-4x13 Buddie because ummmm no to everything that just went down and whatever the hell they're doing with that promo. Pre-relationship Eddie introspection, guest-starring sleepy Buck and Chris (how often can I have these two idiots—Buck and Eddie, not Chris—wake each other up too goddamn early in the morning; the answer is infinite).

Eddie wakes up.

The world is a quiet, washed-out hum of static and dim light. He listens to his breath, in and out, in and out, as the room comes into focus. The rhythmic beeping monitor. The rough sheets over his chest. The hollowed-out numb of his shoulder where—

fuck. Where he’d been shot.

Eddie blinks open his eyes and grimaces. He’s probably doped to hell but his shoulder aches like forest fire, like a pain that will consume him and the whole world too, if he lets it. His head feels like someone pumped it full of air right up until the point before it bursts. He grits his teeth and gathers saliva on his tongue, carefully distributes it so that when he swallows, it will feel less like he’s ingesting a quart of sand. He knows this song and dance. He wiggles his fingers and toes and notes that remarkably, everything’s in working order. He wonders how often you can cheat death before that karma comes to get you.

Although he thinks Buck would probably go to bat for him, even against death himself. The heart monitor spikes as Eddie remembers with a vicious and cruel clarity Buck’s eyes on his as Eddie shuddered and collapsed. Buck’s wide, deer-in-headlights eyes, all that Eddie could see, just two pinprick pupils until there was nothing else, just the black, blank darkness.

Eddie tips his head to the side and opens his eyes, unclenching his fists, and nearly reels back when he sees Ana. She’s crumpled in the seat beside him, her chin resting on her collarbone, her long, dark eyelashes twitching against her cheek as she sleeps.

He closes his eyes and turns his head away.

But Ana’s a light sleeper. She was already waking up when he looked at her, roused from the shallow depths of unconsciousness by the change in Eddie’s breathing pattern, or something. His eyes are still closed when she croaks out, “Eddie?”

He looks at her.

“Eddie!” She says, raising her hands to flutter them over his chest, his face, his un-wounded shoulder. “You’re awake! You’re alive! Thank God,” she says, fervent. Like a prayer.

“Guess I’m just… lucky,” Eddie wheezes out. She smiles at him, eyes watering, and he gave the PG-version of his Silver Star story in her classroom but there’s no hint of recognition in her eyes.

“Either the luckiest man alive, or the unluckiest,” she says. “I’m pretty sure a lucky man wouldn’t be shot at quite so much.” She presses a kiss to his temple and Eddie has the horrible impulse to bat her away from him like she’s an overbearing aunt.

God, he’s an idiot. And it would take getting shot for him to realize it.

“What… happened?” Eddie asks, relieved when she leans back and settles into her chair.

“I’m not sure… I heard there was a sniper on the scene. The police think he might be targeting first responders, because how could this year get any worse?” When she shakes her head, her curls bounce in a way Eddie found appealing, once. It feels like a million years ago.

“Chris?” He asks, heart racing once more. She glances at the monitor and then back to him, offering a reassuring smile that does little to soothe his nerves.

“He’s OK. Buck’s with him.” Those three words calm Eddie instantly, like someone turning off an electric kettle, the worry bubbling up inside him simmering to a still. Because it means Chris is OK, and so is Buck. “I’m really grateful to Buck,” Ana is saying, taking his hand in hers, drawing his attention back to her. “It means I get to be here, with you.” She smiles at him like he’s fragile.

Wrong.

Eddie looks at her and doesn’t know how to tell her. How to tell her that the right thing would be for her to be at Chris’s side. That Chris always came first. Chris was the first and only priority. Chris was Eddie’s heart, raw and exposed, just like Bobby had said.

He looks at her and thinks about Chris’s smile, how he lights up the minute Ana walks in the room. He thinks about Chris confessing to him, quiet and anxious, that he’d asked Santa to find Mommy. He thinks about his parents telling him that the proper thing to do was to marry the girl carrying his child, even if he wasn’t sure he loved her.

Chris has been and will always be the most important thing in Eddie’s life. But Eddie’s starting to realize that even with a Northstar as good and perfect as Chris, Eddie didn’t always make the best choices. For himself, for Chris, or for their family.

“Can you call Buck, for me?” Eddie asks, brushing his thumb over Ana’s delicate knuckles. “If it’s not too late. I want to see my boys.”

She hastily bends down to pick up her purse and fumble her phone out, tell him it was fine, Buck had wanted her to call him as soon as Eddie woke up, anyway. He catches a glimpse of a “5” as she unlocks the phone and opens her contact list.

In the early morning, hospital quiet, Eddie can hear the phone ring on the other end of the line. Once, twice. Click.

“Hello?’ Buck asks, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Let me talk to him,” Eddie says, before Ana can get a word in. She hesitates, opens her mouth, but he holds her gaze until she extends the phone to him. Eddie’s hand is steady when he takes it from her.

“Hey,” Eddie says. Buck’s bleary-eyed, curls smashed to one side of his head, half his face obscured by a dark shape.

“Eddie,” Buck says, a ragged, relieved sound. He shifts, and Eddie hears him say, “Chris, Chris wake up, it’s your dad, Chris, he’s OK!”

And then there’s another face, pressing too close to the camera, so that Eddie mostly sees a nostril and some chin.

“Daddy!” Chris whoops, and Eddie smiles, and Buck pulls Chris back from the phone screen so Eddie can see him.

“Hey there, buddy,” Eddie says, “sorry I scared you.”

“W-wasn’t scared,” Chris insists, blinking rapidly because without his glasses, the world was mostly a multi-colored smudge. “I had Buck.”

Buck—who settles Chris’s glasses over his face with heartbreaking tenderness. Buck—who wraps an arm around Chris and scoots them back against the headboard so they can both see Eddie. Buck—who had clearly been sleeping in Chris’s bed, keeping him safe while Eddie was getting several pints of blood pumped into his body and shrapnel extricated from his shoulder.

“That’s good,” Eddie says. “Really good.”

“We knew you’d be OK,” Buck says. “Right, Superman?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause of your lucky charm.”

Eddie has to close his eyes against that. Chris is still so young, still Disney-innocent and honey-sweet, and Buck knew exactly what to say to calm Chris down. He knew Chris’s favorite bedtime story and the playlist Eddie made for him to help Chris fall asleep.

“That’s right,” Eddie chokes out. “My St. Christopher medal.”

“No.” Eddie blinks at that, at the stubborn line of Chris’s mouth. “Me. And Buck.”

Buck looks just about as surprised as Eddie feels.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Buck asks.

“What?” Chris asks, confused at their confusion. He addresses Buck. “Daddy said that I was his good l-l-luck charm. Because he loves me. A-and he loves you, so you’re his good luck charm too.”

Eddie isn’t sure if his kid is perceptive or just putting together ideas in the way only kids can. But it doesn’t really matter, because he isn’t wrong.

“Got me there,” Eddie agrees. “I must be pretty lucky, since I’ve got the both of you watching my back.”

Buck’s smiling a pleased, sunshine grin. The room is too dark and the connection is too poor, but Eddie would bet money that Buck’s blushing.

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t look at Ana.

“We’ll come visit as soon as the hospital opens,” Buck promises. “It’s good you called, because we should probably get going.”

To his right, Chris gives a huge yawn.

“You sure? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You think we’re gonna be able to sleep now that you’re awake? No way.”

“No way!’ Chris agrees.

“We’ll be there in fifteen. Twenty. Ten?” Buck looks down at Chris.

“Five!” Chris shouts. “The f-firetruck could make it in five minutes!”

“But we only have Buck’s jeep,” Buck says, pouting at Chris. “Definitely not a firetruck.”

“Fifteen,” Chris amends.

“OK,” Eddie says with a laugh that barely hurts. “I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Buck.”

“For what?” Buck asks, ruffling Chris’s hair with the hand that had been draped over Chris’s shoulders. “Be there soon.”

The call disconnects with the finality of a book snapping shut. He squares his shoulders (as much as he can while lying in an inclined hospital bed with a bullet injury) and turns his head to face Ana.

Her eyes are narrowed and hard, like ice over a troubled stream.

“So,” she says, slow and calm, “Buck?”

“Yeah” Eddie says. It’s all he can say. He can’t tell her how to be what he needs, what Chris needs. He can’t tell her to put Chris first like a reflex, like an instinct.

He doesn’t blame her. He isn’t mad at her. He isn’t even disappointed. He’s as shocked as anyone that he met someone who understood, immediately and profoundly, that Chris was Eddie’s world. Eddie had never counted on someone like Buck. And it was time he stopped running from that and accepted it for the undeserved, unparallelled gift that it was.

“I’m sorry,” he adds.

“Me too.” Ana takes her phone back with a snap of her wrist and drops it in her purse. “I’m going to go home.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, feeling a little guilty. He knows what it’s like to feel left behind, waking up with nothing but a note and the realization that you could never be good enough.

Ana gets to her feet and smooths the wrinkles of her blouse, and for a moment she reminds him so much of Shannon that he’s dizzy. The straight back, the self-posession, the tumble of curls swept over her shoulder.

He hopes Ana finds a love worthy of her, someone who will treasure her and believe her when she says, “sometimes our limitations let us know who we are.”

Because Eddie looked at the world like a challenge. He threw himself into it like the world might burn up tomorrow, but he would fight to the last breath anyway. He peeled away honorable discharge and may experience lifelong mobility dilemmas and we know what’s best for him and don’t you know how hard it is to be a single father like strips of old paint.

And Buck was the same way. Buck was I had to do it and didn’t you know Jim Abbot played baseball with only one hand and I’m in. You wanted us to bond, Cap. We might end up real close.

Eddie watches Ana leave, her heels clicking sharp against the tiled floor. At the door, she turns her head.

“I am glad you’re OK, Edmundo.”

“Thank you.”

And then she’s gone.

And then Eddie waits, anticipation mounting, for his boys to bring him home.

[bbrandy2002]

Fools Rush In

Part 4

Series: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x OC (Riley)

Previous chapters can be found here.

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine, the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. As a drunken night, he finds himself with way more than he bargained for.

MC did not exist in Liam’s social season. OC Riley Brooks lives in Las Vegas.

A/N: No wacky drabble for this one. Went a wee bit over and couldn’t cut. Oh well...there’s always next time. This is an 18+ series.

A/N: The lyrics to the song Maxwell sings comes from a Tik Tok video that was shared with me and the idea to include it in this is not my own hahahaha I will post the link to the video in comments to give the maker proper credit and just in case anyone wants to actually watch it. I thought it was funny..

Thanks @burnsoslow for beta reading and all of my lovely pre-readers.

Warning: Mention of STD’s

Permanent Tags: @emceesynonymroll @romanticatheart-posts @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @drakesensworld @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @pedudley @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @desireepow-1986 @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @blueaster-blog1 @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @twinkleallnight @annekebbphotography @txemrn

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Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

____________

All Riley wanted to do was go home, take a hot shower, snuggle up in a blanket on the couch with a Lifetime movie, and carry on with the rest of her life. 

She'd had this crazy but exciting night out with a fantastic guy. They had a little too much to drink and woke up the next morning to find they were married to each other.  

And she wasn't just married to anyone. No, it had to be the King of a small European country she'd never heard of before. 

That's not something that just happened to everyone. 

Depending on how one viewed her circumstances she was either the luckiest or unluckiest woman in all of Vegas. 

If she were a betting person, she'd place money on the latter.

Riley stood at the penthouse door, engaged in a stare down with the blonde-haired obstacle blocking the exit. 

In front of her was a woman wearing a black and white fur coat, a strand of pearls that hung loosely around her neck, and an impudent scowl. 

If evil were a lady, Riley surmised she was looking at her.

Madeleine's green eyes bore agitation and scorn as she studied the petite figure she recognized from the dozens of photos that bombarded her text messages. 

"You must be the bimbo who thinks she will steal my crown and title."

"Excuse me?" Riley's eyes narrowed, not knowing who she was speaking to, but could already tell she didn’t care to know.

Leo stepped up protectively behind Riley and growled at the countess. "Go away, Madeleine! How many times do we have to tell you the dalmatians aren't for sale?"

"You wish I were here for dalmatians," Madeleine sneered. "Now, out of my way, heathens." 

She pushed her way past the two and stalked inside while Mara shuffled behind. She removed her cashmere gloves and took notice of her fiance with his back pressed against the bar top, one legs crossed over the other, and sipping casually on his scotch.

Liam tipped the glass to his lips as if he didn't have a care in the world and swallowed. "Can I offer you a glass of wine, dear? Or a cronut? Perhaps a ride to the middle of the desert to be left for dead?"

"That's quite alright," Madeleine quipped as she ripped the glass out of Liam's hand and slammed it down on the bar. "But maybe you'd like to first explain why I have been inundated with one message after the next telling me you were married to this ..." She motioned her hand toward Riley with derision. "This ... bitch?"

Liam paused as if he were thinking about it, then shook his head. "No. Not really." She's not a bitch ... she's amazing. He wondered why he couldn't say that out loud.

Stunned, Riley looked up at Leo in disbelief. "Did she really just call me a bitch? She doesn't even know me."

Leo nodded with a compassionate smile on his face, then pulled her further inside and shut the door. 

He wasn't about to let her go now.

Liam grabbed his drink, pushed himself off the bar, and strolled to the center of the room. He could feel Madeleine's icy glare following his every movement. The King hoped his flippant attitude was enough to penetrate deep into her frozen exterior and piss her off even more. "I thought you were in New York, Mads. 8 million people in that city for you to torment, and you still make time to hop on your broomstick and find me. I have to say … I'm touched."

Madeleine shot him a dirty look. "Do you have any idea what I've been through because of what you did last night?"

He shrugged. "Nope, and I don't care."

"Well, you're going to care when I tell you everything that happened." She disregarded the audible groan and eye roll from him as she began her diatribe of offenses. "I had just settled in for the night when I get a message from that simpleton, Penelope, telling me what you did. I tried to call you, but apparently, you and the rest of your entourage of losers blocked my number. So I had this incompetent boob of a guard you hired for me book the first flight out here.

“When I got to JFK, I was detained and strip-searched because someone falsely alerted authorities claiming I was a Colombian drug lord, only in the U.S. to sell cocaine and hypodermic needles to children --"

Leo snorted. 

Liam curled his lips into a devilish grin, knowing exactly who did it. He glanced subtly to Mara, who winked back at him.

"Are you even listening to me, Liam? As if that nightmare wasn't horrid enough, I find out Mara booked coach class … COACH! Coach is so beneath someone like me. There were babies and old people and sodas. But the worst was when we finally arrived here; they strip-searched me again. I had to get my own baggage and ride in one of those god-awful smelly shuttle vans to this hotel. And do you know why I had to do all of that? Because you're a complete moron, Liam. The people of Cordonia are laughing at you; you know that, right? I always knew you would be a total embarrassment and fuck up, but this is beyond anything I imagined."

A downcast expression was plastered on Liam's face as he stared down at the drink in his shaky hand. Those words stung -- “a total embarrassment and fuck up.” In his mind, he felt she was right. He had let down even his own expectation of himself and the reputation of the monarchy.

There was nothing to do but stand there and stew in silence.

But Riley wouldn’t.

She shrugged Leo's hand from her shoulder and spun Madeleine around by the arm to face her. "Is this what you do? You go around insulting everyone and being a first-class bitch? I will have you know, Liam is not any of those things. He's the kindest, sweetest man I've ever met. And it's no wonder he looked so miserable last night at the club. I couldn't understand why at first, but now ... now it all makes sense. Did you ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't such a fucking cunt, he wouldn't have been drinking so much and been so willing to accept the company of another woman?"

Liam felt his heart twinge. Riley had every right to be upset with him, and he felt guilty for putting her in this situation. But there she was, defending him. God, she was hot.

Madeleine guffawed. "How cute. You've got your little whore taking up for you now."

"That's enough!" Liam's eyes landed sharply on her. Before he could stop himself, the next few words sprang from his lips as naturally as his breath. "You will not speak to my wife -- your Queen -- like that again, or so help me I will charge you where you stand for treason against the Crown. Do I make myself clear?"

Riley's eyes rounded, unsure of what to say or do at that moment.

Leo loudly cheered and pumped his fist in the air. 

Liam stood his ground as he glowered back at his slack-jawed, now ex-fiancee.

Madeleine couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You can't be serious? We are getting married in two weeks. I'm going to be the Queen!" Her tone was one of anger and desperation.

He laughed wryly in her face. "Not anymore." 

He looked past a stunned Madeleine to the heedless guard smirking behind her. "Mara, please see to it that the countess returns to the airport and doesn't disturb us again."

She agreed and led a vociferously-protesting Madeleine toward the doorway.

"You'll regret this, Liam. You'll both pay for this travesty!" 

"Use the taser on her, Mara!" Leo bounced with excitement as he followed them and opened the door. He handed the guard a $100 bill as she walked by and whispered, "Make sure they strip search her again. A bonus if they need double gloves and lube."

"You got it, boss."

Leo slammed the door and clapped. "Ding-dong, the witch is gone! So. Do you need help packing, sis? We still have a couple of hours before we go back to Cordonia. That should be enough time to gather some things."

Riley stammered, looking between the two men, completely dumbfounded by what just took place.

Liam noticed. He knew what he said to Madeleine about her being his wife and Queen was most likely awkward for her. 

They didn't know each other; it was a fact, he continued to remind himself.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. "Uh, Riley ... I just want you to know ... I only said that stuff because of Madeleine ..."

"Oh, yes. Of course. I knew that." She chuckled nervously and waved her hand. "But what about your engagement?"

"Yeah, Liam. You gotta have a queen." Leo clapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other and exclaimed, "Dem's da rules."

Liam shook his head and carried his empty glass to the open kitchen. "I know that, Leo. But I will not ask Riley to give up her life here just to help me clean up my mess. She deserves better than that."

Riley crossed her arms on the counter that looked into the kitchen, watching Liam get a bottled water from the fridge. "What happens if you don't have a Queen?"

Liam twisted the cap and gave a half-shrug. "I don't have a choice. I'll have to marry Madeleine." The words stung his lips.

"But she's so pissed at you right now."

He chuckled. "That won't stop her. She wants the crown, and that's it."

Riley could see the sadness in his eyes, the same sadness she saw last night in the club where they first met. "You'll be miserable with her, though," she muttered wistfully.

He nodded, regret written on his face. "Yeah."

Riley stood silent; she weighed the pros and cons of such a massive uprooting.  Her life had been slightly stalled and bland for the last few years. Las Vegas was her getaway to a new life from New York, where she left behind both regrets and failed relationships. And yet ... this new place wasn't everything she told herself it would be.

She looked at Liam and felt her heart break. She understood him more than he realized. 

But ... to be a Queen?

Riley inhaled deeply and prepared to speak up when Liam's phone rang.

He placed the cap on his water, sat it on the counter, and lifted his phone from the pocket of his shorts. "It's Maxwell," he called out.

Leo rushed to him. "Put it on speaker, Li!"

"Maxwell, I have you on speaker. Leo and Riley are with me. How's Drake?"

"He's in the pharmacy, and I'm standing outside getting air. It's going to take a while to amass all the medication and creams he needs."

The brothers looked at each other with wide eyes. Riley covered her mouth to prevent the chuckle that threatened to escape. "I think I'll give you guys some privacy. I'll just be in the bathroom."

Liam nodded and turned his attention back to the call. "Is it really that bad, Max? I mean, I think we know what he has."

"Dudes, I don't think you can even begin to guess half the shit Drake's got."

"You gotta tell us what the Drakester has, Max."

"I'm not really supposed to say." 

They could hear the hesitation in his voice. It was almost like he wanted to tell them, but needed a little more coaxing.

"Maxwell," Liam spoke. "If Drake doesn't want us to know, then you should probably keep it to yourself ... for now."

"I did kind of write a song about everything he was diagnosed with for a TikTok video. Drake only said not to tell anyone. He never said I couldn't sing about it."

Leo nodded his head. "Agreed. Sing that song, Beaumont."

They could hear Maxwell shuffle further away from what sounded like a crowded street. 

"Okay, the coast is clear," Maxwell said as he took a deep breath. The boys hugged their ears against Liam's cell phone. 

"Drake just left the clinic, and I'm afraid its bad news. 

So now I'm singing this song about it hoping it gets views. 

Don't know how he's still alive. 

Or how he survived. 

The doctor said he's got five ... nasty STIs. 

He's got some in his balls … got some in his ass.

And what's worse is his curly pubes are crawling with crabs. 

He's got herpes! From a booty call! 

He's got syphilis …now his dick is raw.

He's got chlamydia … And it's so sore.

And he doesn't even know where he got genital warts." 

Liam pressed two fingers into both sides of his temples while he stared blankly at his phone. "Un - believable."

Leo swiped the tears from his eyes and made no attempts to hide the giant smile curling his lips or his overwhelming giddiness. "I've never been more proud of the Drakester than I am at this moment. He actually beat me out on this one. Gotta say ... I don't mind losing to him this time."

“Liam. Leo. I gotta go; Drake’s on his way out. See ya back at the hotel.”

Leo went to the refrigerator to search for a snack, pulling out a leftover pizza. “Ya know, we should probably warn the maid she may need to get a haz-mat team before cleaning Drake’s room.”

Riley rounded the corner. “I hope everything is okay with your friend.”

Liam smiled. “That’s very kind of you say. He’ll be fine … I think.”

She fidgeted with her bracelet and glanced over at Leo placing a slice of cold pizza on top of another slice and taking a large bite. “Leo, I hate to ask while you’re eating … again. But would you mind if I spoke to your brother for a moment? Privately.”

Leo chewed quickly while shaking his head. He swallowed hard. “Sure. I needed to use the shitter, anyway. Pinquee Kittee’s casserole isn’t sitting too well in the Leo tummy.” He grabbed the pizza box and headed for the bathroom.

Liam looked curiously at Riley, not able to read her expression or have any clue what she would want to talk about. “You needed to speak with me?”

She nodded. “Yeah. About our marriage ...”

[elvendara]

Kingdom Come

Not fully fleshed out but I've been so absent on here thought I'd post this. Another Yooran of course!

“What is this?” Saeran asked, hands well away from the weapons at his hips. It would not do to make this diplomatic mission turn into an all out war. But his hands were itching to fight. Using words was not something he had ever mastered. Unfortunately, his brother, who was arguably much better at word play, had been too far from the kingdom when word had come that King Demogon was ready to negotiate terms for the end of the war.

“While you are here, the king wishes you to enjoy all the pleasures our kingdom has to offer. If none of these young ladies are to your liking, we can arrange for a more diverse offering. Perhaps you might be so inclined as to provide us with your preferences.” The oily advisor, Bar A’karn, smirked as he showed off the barely clothed females in a line behind him. Saeran counted seven women, all who appeared very much willing and eager to spend time in his bed. It was not out of the ordinary for this kingdom to use its women in such a way. They were brought up learning the art of satisfying men almost from birth. It was a disgusting cultural norm. But if he refused, he would be insulting the king.

There were two men standing at either end, presumably guards of the king’s harem. The one on the left was tall with blond hair and blue eyes. Most of the inhabitants of the kingdom were fair of skin and hair. The one on the right was about his height, also with blond hair but the most stunning amethyst eyes. A shade he’d never seen in his own kingdom.

He turned towards the advisor, “I’ve made my decision.”

“Excellent, which of these lovely ladies would you like sent to your chambers?” The idea was to have her live with him while he was in the castle. Likely a good way to spy on him in private.

“That one.” He pointed towards the man on the left and spun on his heels, leaving the chamber and motioning for one of the servants to show him to his rooms. There was stunned silence behind him and then a flutter of commotion broke out. Saeran grinned and kept on walking.

He thanked the servant, which seemed to surprise the shorter man. The room was massive, the king-sized bed had large posts and a canopy with heavy drapery and bedding. There were double doors that led to a balcony. A desk was placed in front of the bed. There were two lanterns and the means to light them on it, along with some parchment, ink, quills, sand in a small bowl and a candy dish. A huge wardrobe was to the left of the bed. Both nightstands held candles on golden sconces. The opulence of the room made him shake his head.

This king and his father would get along just fine. They both seemed to believe power and money were the most important things in the world. He unbuckled his belt and tossed it on the bed, along with his swords. Shrugging off the heavily embroidered overcoat made him feel lighter. It was laid over the cushioned bench at the foot of the bed. He sat heavily on it and began to remove his boots when there was a light knock on the door.

“Enter.” He called out. The door opened and the young blond man with the stunning eyes stepped inside. Eyes wide and nervous but standing straight and tall. It was a good sign. Saeran felt a little guilty for letting the man believe he would be sharing his bed nightly, not that he wasn’t attractive enough for it, but he was hardly the type to force that kind of intimacy with anyone against their will.

“You can come closer, let me get a good look at you.” He stood in his stockinged feet and waited for the other man to stand before him. His fair skin was flushed, the red all the way down his neck, his ears burning embers. “Take your clothes off.” He ordered. The man’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened even more but he didn’t protest. In fact, after gathering himself he began to do just that.

“That’s enough.” Saeran said once the overcoat and tunic were off. He stood there in his undershirt and trousers. Saeran took the man’s hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb, marveling at the difference in skin tone. He was slightly darker, mostly because he spent so much time out of doors. This man looked as if he’d never set foot outside the castle. His hands were smooth and dainty. He had obviously never done any hard labor either. Pampered then. Suddenly he wondered if he had been made into a eunuch. It was usually done for those men who were responsible for taking care of a powerful man’s harem. A barbaric way to make sure the wolf you set in the henhouse didn’t eat the hens.

“What is your name?” he asked, letting go of the man’s hand. It appeared as if he wanted to take a step back, but he held his ground. So Saeran took another step towards him, standing nose to nose, almost touching.

“I..it…I…uh…Yoo…Yoosung my lord.” He stuttered, anxiety coming off him in waves.

“Yoosung?”

“Yes my lord.”

“You can drop the lord crap, it makes my jaw clench.”

“Yes, of course my lo…uh…of course.”

“Saeran, my name is Saeran.”

“S…Saeran.”

“Good. Now that we’re getting to know each other, why don’t you tell me a little more about you.” Saeran sat on the bench, moved his coat to the bed and patted next to him invitingly.

“Certainly, although there isn’t much to interest a prince like you.” Yoosung sat next to Saeran, both feet on the floor, knees together, hands clasped on his lap.

“I’ll be the judge of that. I’m curious about you.” Saeran tried to be as unformal as possible, but the man was not relaxing at all.

“If you say so my lo…uh…Saeran.” He swallowed hard and refused to look at Saeran at all. “I was born a bastard. My mother was a cook in the kitchens. I never knew who my father was but she was allowed to raise me as long as I was not underfoot. I believe only because she was one of the best cooks the king had and she threatened to leave if she wasn’t allowed to keep me here. Because of that however, some resented her, and me of course. Oh, but I had a wonderful life in the castle! Don’t get me wrong, the king has been nothing but kind…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to go complain to anyone about what you say to me.” Saeran reassured him and finally the man seemed to visibly relax, he was sure there had also been a small smile in there. “Go on.”

“Well, at first my mother taught me how to cook and bake. It was wonderful! The kitchen staff soon became very protective of me and also showed me their trade secrets. I was very good and my mother had hopes that the king would let me stay in the kitchen, but…” the man’s shoulders slumped.

“What happened?” Saeran asked.

“It didn’t matter how good my cooking was, the king didn’t want me in the kitchen. He had me train.”

“Train?”

“War training. I could understand the strategy of war, but, when it came to the physical aspect…” he shrugged and looked away. “He would get angry, as if I was doing it on purpose to make him look bad. I don’t understand…I…Oh, why am I telling you this?” Yoosung stood and walked towards the doors of the balcony, throwing them open and stepping outside to take in some large breaths.

Saeran followed and saw the man was weeping. He pulled him into a hug. The man stiffened at first, then allowed himself to be embraced.

“Please, please don’t tell anyone what I’ve said…I…I…”

“I won’t say a word, I promise. I know you don’t know me well, but I am a man of my word.” They stepped away from each other and Saeran used his thumb to wipe Yoosung’s tears away.

“You make me feel…safe. How is that possible? I don’t even know you.” Yoosung whispered.

Saeran smiled. He’d never had this kind of affect on people. Most new people he met didn’t trust him at all because of his tendency to tell the truth no matter how ugly it was. But he also felt something different about this man. Even so, he wasn’t about to lay his entire life out there like Yoosung was. What he’d said so far made something itch in the back of his mind. He wondered. If what he wondered was true, it meant that Yoosung might be one of the luckiest men alive, or one of the unluckiest.

[butwhyduh]

The pregnancy stories were so amazing. Roy must think he's simultaneously the luckiest and unluckiest man in the world. Like, he'd wish it hadn't happened like that, but if she's actually pregnant, he wouldn't ever regret it. Kyle just standing there with his construct as Jason shoots is hilarious. I definitely think he's got enough willpower to keep it strong, considering he's still gotta be there for his batsis. Oh, sweet baby Kon.. There's a really weird yet strong intimacy in him knowing before anyone else in the world knows. Poor him when the Bat finds out though. I don't know much of anything about Ghost Maker, but his section was very neat. Bruce being like "I thought you were going to come out as a lesbian" to his sister just made me think of her coming back with "How many women in this family do you think are lesbians, Bruce." The damijon is strong in this house. Like, I wish I saw more of him in reader fic, because I can't ever seem to find any (unless I'm somehow looking in the wrong places). He's got the same energy as those big eyed "I'm baby" emojis people call cursed

All in all, these were some fantastic stories and I'm so glad you write. 10/10

I love that you took the time to write this 🥺

Roy would be happy to have another kid and this time a good relationship with the mom. Like he never thought he’d get the normal experience and will be that dad that tries to be super involved.

Kyle can hold is up to get shot for sure but still complains about getting hit with a set of keys for months.

I feel like Kon would be the one to be amazed because he wasn’t born and didn’t even know if he could have kids with being a clone and all. He’s gonna have a mini heart attack when his kids powers start showing up for sure.

Bruce secretly hopes all the women in his life are lesbian because he doesn’t have to worry about men as much 😂.

Yeah I just see damijon when I see them both. Like dc would be dumb not to pair them in the future. Like it’s so obvious! I think Damian grown into it but for Jon it’s love at first sight so it would be really hard to write him a reader insert for me.

[sworntoprotect]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent (the mere existence of a post-canon verse is diverging from canon) / fandomless / complicated

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. He started off as a tertiary character in the mage origin/Broken Circle quest in DAO, then ended up becoming something of a staple tertiary/secondary character in DA2 and DAI.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. I’m not entirely sure how people feel about DAO Cullen’s appearance but DA2 and onwards he got himself a glow-up and an unwitting thirst trap reputation. What made ramen boy appealing in DAO for some is that if you played a female mage Warden, he’s “the one who got away”... because he literally booked it down the corridor if you got too flirty.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. Perhaps? If you take a stroll through his tag, despite being a Templar, he’s not often portrayed as someone who’s fighting (*winkwonk*).

Are they underrated? YES / NO / IDK. Some in the fandom might even call him overrated, depending on who you ask. 

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO. In DAO he begs for you to kill all the remaining mages in the Circle Tower, and you can accept or decline to do so. In DA2 he solicits a few quests and eventually sides with you to defeat Meredith. In DAI he’s the Commander of the Inquisition and a vital part of the war council. Overall, he’s there to provide a pro-Templar outlook for the character. 

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. He’s met every game protagonist thus far and had some level of personal/professional relationship with them. 

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. In DAO he was a newly minted Templar. DA2 he was elevated to Knight-Captain very quickly which got his name floating around Kirkwall, and of course by DAI he’s the head of the Inquisition’s forces so he’s even more well-known throughout (at the least) Ferelden and Orlais.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. Both. The common people and fellow Templars would look up to him, whereas mages and pro-mage sympathisers would absolutely have an issue with the role he’s played over the years.

How strictly do you follow canon? — As closely as I can, without lingering too deeply into the “problematic views” part of his character. I don’t seek to erase them or ignore them, and I don’t have too much issue writing them for the sake of being genuine, but I also don’t want to write him as if he’s some mustache-twirling villain because he is not. 

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  Since he was 18 years old, Cullen has suffered and struggled through adversity after adversity (torture, sexual assault, brainwashing, night terrors, drug abuse, and a healthy spoonful of “all my friends are dead”), and yet maintained a soft heart underneath the steel wall of being a warrior. His goal since childhood has been to serve and to protect, and his self-awareness, loyalty, intelligence, and drive to make himself a better and more caring man is what sets him apart from others of his ilk who in his shoes would’ve broken a long, long time ago.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  — He’s a man who’s allowed atrocities to occur by not standing up to speak against them, has perpetuated the cycle of mage abuse by the hands of others, can be callous, closed-minded, and aggressive, and has a strong prejudice against mages that wasn’t properly resolved in his “redemption” arc – nor was his lyrium addiction/withdrawal.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  He’s the type of muse I gravitate towards: bookish, devoted, protective, a softy under all the stone, endearingly awkward. More than that, though, his story intrigues me. Cullen has gone through a lot (he’s either the luckiest or unluckiest person) and watching his trajectory throughout the series has been really interesting. I’d like to provide him proper growth and development that he wasn’t entirely given in the games, or that wasn’t explicitly shown.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  My amazing roleplay partners with all the good work they put into their characters and the love they have shown me and my character so far. I love you guys <3  (<-- keeping that answer bc agreed)

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? i have my doubts sometimes, but i think i do ok. Still, I would love to have more feedback to see how i can improve even more. (<-- keeping bc agreed)

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / SORT OF I write quite a few of them that never see the light of day, and I constantly and randomly sling little thoughts at my rp partners as they come to me. As for this blog itself, I’d prefer to have my headcanons evident in my writing, so I don’t post things about Cullen’s favourite colour or what he likes to eat for supper every night (and that’s absolutely no shade to people who do post headcanons that way; I honestly wish I operated the same way lol)

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO. There’s a few on the blog already, hidden in plain sight.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO. Even when I don’t want to think about him, I end up thinking about him. But I like thinking about him, so...

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO / SORT OF? I’m still fairly new to the fandom and I’ve been learning a lot about Cullen, what people think about Cullen, what Cullen thinks about himself and others, etc. etc. Plus there are other, more well-established blogs for him out there. I’m honestly surprised I got more than 20 followers tbh.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. I'm my own worst enemy with this one. Like, I know I’m alright but I’m not good enough for myself.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO / SORTA. Some things do bother me a lot more than others, but any annoyance I feel is pretty quickly done after I vent about it. Then I typically forget after a while.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  I’m always open to constructive criticism that both highlights what I’m doing well and considerately points out what I could improve upon. 

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  — Of course! I enjoy delving into his character and wondering the “what ifs” of various situations that may or may not occur. And if we can write it together in a thread? Even better!

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  No one owes me an explanation as to why they have an opinion, but yes I would like to know why. Maybe I misinterpreted something, or overlooked something. Maybe I made a mistake. I’m human. It happens.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  same as the above.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  — It only bothers me if it’s directed at me. I fully acknowledge that Cullen is controversial and has a very contentious past (or present) that rubs a good amount of people the wrong way. You don’t have to like him, but I do take some issue with people purposely twisting facts to make him out to be worse than what he actually is. I’ve considered writing a post about it truthfully but I don’t want that unbridled hatred to come to my doorstep if/when someone who’s not a fan of him reads it. It’s not worth it. Might do it anyway though. I don’t know.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  — Please do. Politely. English is my native language but I’m still out here making mistakes. smh @ myself

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  I’d like to think so, yes. I have a very high tolerance level for a lot of things, don’t get easily triggered, and I’m always willing to chat about character stuff or irl stuff or... anything, basically. 

tagged by: @orsino-the-enchanter tagging: did you read this? then it’s you

[linelpisffxiv]

FFXIV Write 2019 5: Sealed Pasts

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Oh, what’s today’s prompt? Let’s see... Vault.

Nope. Nopenopenope. How dare nope.

The Warrior of Light has four gaps in the tales. Times when few, if any, saw her. Only the longest has any moments where others see her, and even then, only a few bells at most for each crossing save one. It was only enough to plot her general course, there wheres, but not the wherefores.

There’s only one thing each disappearance has in common.

A greatsword.

There’s several skills she’s proficient at, and she has used the sword in various moments (Most obvious when she blocked a sword 16 yalms long with her own one eighth that), but the times she trains with it are filled with blanks. No one knows how she got it, who she speaks with when she uses it, where she goes (save, again, for the longest), what mindset brings her to it, or why she continues.

The only clue one has is the first disappearance, she didn’t have the sword when she left Fortemps Manor on a dark night, blood still covering her hands as she curses others for not doing enough to save someone.

When she returns a week later, she has a third gem on her necklace, one shaped like a heart, with the mark shaped like a sword on it.

The second and fourth disappearances are likewise short, her bardic gambesons melting into plate, bow striaghtening into a sword. Perhaps it is a source of comfort in some way.

Whoever she seeks when she calls on the sword is either the luckiest one alive for knowing these secrets, or the unluckiest for having to face her repeatedly.

G’raha sets aside the book and looks into the portal. The Revolutions of Ala Mhigo and Doma have been settled, both are free. It should be a good time to call upon her, and it only took a few epochs to reach such a point.

The person she faces down is naught but a child, elezen, blue-haired.

While an Xaela man and an Ishgardian girl watch the fight, the one A’lin faces is not another, but a fragment of her soul. He senses more in there, but it’s hard to read through the mirror, from another world.

The writer of the book is most correct, in his eyes, she’s quite unlucky in such a way, but perhaps one day, that will change.

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

The Luckiest Man Alive

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3l5qXnk

by XiaomuSmash14

Komaru Naegi, younger sister to Makoto Naegi, from the world of Danganronpa. Bennett, Pyro vision user and one of the unluckiest people to ever live (if you choose to believe that). Both are fighting for the number one spot in the current game of Danganronpa Hunger Games Season 8. Neither of them had won yet this season, but neither are willing to give up this chance to win. Or so Bennett thought. Could he really try to win against Komaru, of all people?

Words: 1004, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game), Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Bennett (Genshin Impact), Naegi Komaru

Relationships: Bennett/Naegi Komaru

Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Fluff, My First Fanfic, Screenplay/Script Format

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3l5qXnk

[amanda-teaches]

Feels Like Heaven

Summary: Dean finds a way to do the impossible and heal his scars from Hell. It all starts when he meets you.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1306

Warnings: Starts off crazy angsty, but ends fluffy.

A/N: I’m back, y’all! After what seems like forever, I’ve finally written something for two fantastic challenges: the first is @shotgunintheimpala‘s 150 followers challenge, where I had the song “Only Know I Do” by Adam Gregory and the second is @impala-dreamer‘s Titles are Hard Challenge. It’s been awhile so I hope it’s good!

If you asked any random angel or demon who the luckiest man alive was, they’d all immediately say the same thing: Dean Winchester.

The answer was clear. He’d been the one who’d gotten out of Hell, predestined by God himself to escape. He’d survived the unsurvivable, coming away scot-free with a second chance at life. If that wasn’t lucky, then what was?

But, Dean knew the truth: he wasn’t lucky at all. In fact, Dean Winchester was pretty damn sure that he was the unluckiest man alive, because he may have escaped Hell, but he certainly didn’t survive it.

There were still nights when he woke up screaming, bathed in his own sweat, nights where he cried out in pain, begging for a relief that would never come. It stayed with him, a scar that not even an angel could heal.

He’d tried to get past it, he really had. He’d focused on Sam, on the job, and on killing as many evil sons of bitches as he could, but he couldn’t forget. No matter what he tried, or how many years passed, he couldn’t erase the torture he’d suffered, or even worse, the torture he’d inflicted. It stayed with him, it possessed him, and it broke him.

Eventually, he gave up trying. He gave up hoping that he could redeem himself or erase the sins he committed. He was sure that’s what he deserved: for the pain and the guilt to stay with him until the inevitable day he was sent back to Hell where he belonged. It was his fate.

But, little did Dean know that fate had something else planned for him. You.

How do you explain the way

my world has changed right before my eyes

And how do you explain the way you

gave me wings

when I swore I could never fly

The night Dean met you was a particularly bad one.

The nightmares had come on suddenly, forcing him up and out of the small motel room he had been sharing with his brother and into the crisp night air.

He’d started out walking to clear his mind, but he quickly realized that was pointless. No matter how much distance he tried to put between him and the dark thoughts, they continued to plague him, as they always did.

Eventually, he gave up on the promise of sleep, falling back onto the only thing he could trust to help: whiskey.

He quickly found the only bar left open at this time of night, entering with just one purpose: to forget.

But, that all changed the moment he entered and his eyes fell on you. You were the only other person in the deserted room, but that’s not what drew him to you. There was something else about you, something different that called out to him like a light shining at the end of a very long tunnel. A light that just so happened to be drop-dead gorgeous.

Maybe she’ll help me forget for the night, Dean thought with a smile as he began to move towards you, like a moth to a flame.

And, help him forget you did, because, although he didn’t know it at the time, Dean had just taken his first step on the road to forgetting Hell: he was walking towards his own personal heaven.

It's a mystery what you've done for me

I'm at a place I've never been

I've knocked on that door

a hundred times before

now you've suddenly let me in

For the first three months of your relationship, neither you nor Dean even realized that you were both hunters.

The misunderstanding started off innocently enough. After meeting at the bar, the two of you had gone on to have an amazing few days together, but then you’d separated. Both of you had shared something about vague “jobs” that kept you on the road all the time, but that had been the end of it. There hadn’t really been a need to share any specifics about your lifestyles, because both Dean and you had assumed the relationship was at its end. It’s not like hunters were really made for anything long-term anyway.

At least, that was what you thought. In an unprecedented, and entirely unexpected turn of events, neither of you were able to get your three-night stand out of your mind. So, after weeks of internal debate, you finally took the plunge and reached out to Dean about meeting up again. To your surprise, he was fully on board.

In the beginning, the two of you only met up once every few weeks, with each visit lasting a few days at the most. But, that wasn’t enough, for either of you. So, on a cold, snowy night in the middle of December, the two of you finally bit the bullet and sat down to have “the talk”.

Despite having the highest of hopes for your burgeoning relationship, in the back of your minds, you both had this fear that the other one would run off screaming into the night when they heard the truth. Neither of you had even considered the possibility that you could both be hunters, so you couldn’t have been more shocked when you found out you shared the same secret.

Sam, on the other hand, found it absolutely hilarious. He found it slightly less hilarious when the two of you kicked him out of the room to celebrate your new milestone, but he couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful foundation he saw forming. This was a foundation built to last, one that would only grow in the years to come.

Fate was finally taking its course.

I don't know why

I've been so blessed to love someone like you

I don't know why

I must confess, I only know I do

After that day, you and Dean had been completely inseparable.

It didn’t take long for you to move into the bunker with the boys, the three of you turning into a seamless hunting team. Dean gave you your own room, of course, but you never used it. In your mind, from the moment you’d shared your job with him, the relationship had become real. You didn’t need, or want, to sleep away from him ever again.

Dean, on the other hand, took a little bit longer to realize the magnitude of your relationship. He tried to give you your space, but he never pushed you to sleep in a separate room, secretly thanking God every night you chose to sleep in his. He didn’t fight the inevitable, because, while he may have been slow to consciously face the truth, his nightmares weren’t: they disappeared for good the second you fell into his arms.

In my heart, I won't question you baby

I'll just lay here in your arms

I don't know why

I've been so blessed to love someone like you

I don't know why

I must confess, I only know I do

Even all these years later, there were still moments where Dean’s time in Hell would cross his mind, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Not even close.

Now, the memories would come like a flash and vanish just as quickly, the pain and guilt that had haunted him long since gone. In its place were happy memories: images of your smile, your son’s first steps, your daughter’s first word.

The reason for the change was simple: there was no need for Dean to dwell on Hell anymore, not when he had you. That invisible scar was finally gone and Dean was healed.

Now, when the angels and demons would whisper, there would be no doubt they were right: Dean Winchester really was the luckiest man alive.

He had escaped Hell and he had found you. You were his heaven.

Forevers- @hamartiamacguffin @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @katymacsupernatural @impandagrl @cyrilconnelly @impala-dreamer @castielhasthetardis @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @shotgunintheimpala @be-amaziing @jalove-wecallhimdean @there-must-be-a-lock @mysterious-398 @hannahindie @emoryhemsworth @ohmychuckitssamanddean @wi-deangirl77 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @ericaprice2008

Dean Tags- @akshi8278

[lenapechorin]

congenitaldisease :

Reporters never know whether to refer to Tsutomu Yamaguchi as the luckiest or unluckiest man in the world; Yamaguchi is the only officially recognised survivor of both the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bomb blasts at the end of the Second World War.

Yamaguchi was an engineer with the shipbuilder Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and on the 6th of August, 1945, he was in Hiroshima at the end of a short-term secondment with two of his colleagues. He would later recall that he heard a loud engine noise coming from the sky above him but initially thought nothing of it as Hiroshima was an industrial city and military base. However, what he had heard was the engines of Enola Gay, the US B-29 bomber that would moments later drop the first atomic bomb on the city. Yamaguchi then saw a flash of light before being knocked to the ground unconscious by the force of the bomb. Around 140,000 of Hiroshima’s 350,000 population died instantly. Thousands more suffered burns, Yamaguchi included.

Yamaguchi spent that night in an air-raid shelter which was filled with dying people. The next day, he caught a train 180 miles back home to Nagasaki, which was another industrial city and military base. On the 9th of August, Yamaguchi returned to work and told his colleagues about the horrors he had experienced. They were aghast to discover that one single bomb razed the entire city. Unbeknownst to them, another atomic bomb was heading towards Nagasaki. At around 11:02AM, there was another flash of light as the US Airforce stopped “Fat Man,” a 25-kiloton plutonium bomb which killed nearly 74,000 people and injured a similar number. Miraculously, Yamaguchi survived this second atomic bomb.

Yamaguchi was deafened in one ear and his wounds were bandaged for 12 years. His wife was poisoned from the radioactive fallout and died age 88. The couple’s son - also exposed to the radioactive fallout - died at 59. Yamaguchi’s hellish experience turned him into an anti-nuclear weapons campaigner. He later went on to give talks about his experience in which he expressed his wish for such weapons to be abolished. In 2010, Yamaguchi died at his home in Nagasaki.

[biblicalmusings]

Hiroshima’s Castigation of Humanity’s Best Attempts at Peace

Early one August morning, Tsutomu Yamaguchi was preparing to return home from the town where he had spent the last three months on business. He worked for Mitsubishi Heavy Industries in Japan as a draftsman, and was working over the summer on a shipbuilding project. He was on the bus heading to the station with two of his colleagues when he realized he left his ticket behind. His friends continued on while he returned to the company dormitory to retrieve it. Once he did, he began walking back toward the shipyard. Mr. Yamaguchi remembered the day well: “It was a flat, open spot with potato fields on either side. It was very clear, a really fine day, nothing unusual about it at all. I was in good spirits.”

But that would change in an instant for him and the approximately 300,000 others in Hiroshima that day, Aug. 6, 1945. “As I was walking along I heard the sound of a plane, just one. I looked up into the sky and saw the B-29, and it dropped two parachutes. I was looking up into the sky at them, and suddenly... it was like a flash of magnesium, a great flash in the sky, and I was blown over,” he explained. (Richard Lloyd Parry, The Times, “The Luckiest or Unluckiest Man in the World?”, March 29, 2005).

The plane he saw was the Enola Gay. It had just completed its mission of dropping the first atomic bomb (called “Little Boy”) ever used in a military operation. He continued, “When the noise and the blast had subsided I saw a huge mushroom-shaped pillar of fire rising up high into the sky. It was like a tornado, although it didn’t move, but it rose and spread out horizontally at the top. There was prismatic light, which was changing in a complicated rhythm, like the patterns of a kaleidoscope. The first thing I did was to check that I still had my legs and whether I could move them. I thought, ‘If I stay here, I’ll die.’

“Two hundred yards ahead, there was a dugout bomb shelter, and when I climbed in there were two young students already sitting there. They said, ‘You’ve been badly cut, you’re seriously injured.’ And it was then I realized I had a bad burn on half my face, and that my arms were burned.”

Mr. Yamaguchi’s story is one of thousands of first-hand accounts of the horrifying devastation that single bomb created. One patient of Michihiko Hachiya, who was the director of the Hiroshima Communications Hospital, recounted this story, which Hachiya kept in a diary along with dozens of other stories he heard from patients at that time:

“The sight of the soldiers . . . was more dreadful than the dead people floating down the river. I came onto I don’t know how many, burned from the hips up; and where the skin had peeled, their flesh was wet and mushy . . . And they had no faces! Their eyes, noses and mouths had been burned away, and it looked like their ears had melted off. It was hard to tell front from back” (Richard Rhodes, The Making of the Atomic Bomb, 1986, p. 726).

With one bomb, approximately 140,000 people were killed. Every person who survived had his or her own account of the suffering they witnessed, and those accounts numbered in the tens of thousands. “People exposed within half a mile of the Little Boy fireball . . . were seared to bundles of smoking black char in a fraction of a second as their internal organs boiled away. ‘Doctor,’ a patient commented to [Dr.] Hachiya a few days later, ‘a human being who has been roasted becomes quite small, doesn’t he?’ The small black bundles now stuck to the streets and bridges and sidewalks of Hiroshima numbered in the thousands” [Rhodes, pg. 714-715]. The magnitude of the destruction is beyond comprehension. No words can adequately describe it.

How Could We Do This?

The capacity of people to kill each other entered an entirely new and never before imagined age that day. For the first time in history, the dreadful prophecy that mankind would completely destroy itself if it weren’t for the return of Christ was actually conceivable (Matthew 24:22). Yet instead of being chilled by such destructive power, over the next several decades, ever more powerful atomic weapons were developed across the globe in an arms race between the U.S. and Soviet Union during the Cold War. The most powerful weapon ever tested was the Russian Tsar Bomba, with an explosive power nearly 3,000 times that of the Little Boy bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Today, the nuclear arsenal of just the United States and Russia (to say nothing of India, Pakistan, the United Kingdom, France, China and other countries known to possess nuclear weapons) is sufficient that the inhabited portions of the earth could be destroyed multiple times over.

Why did the United States drop the bomb in Japan that day? To end the war faster. Japan was all but defeated, yet their national pride kept them from surrendering. The American military was gearing up for a massive land invasion of Japan, so they reason that if the bomb could be used and proved effective in forcing Japan to an unconditional surrender first, then the lives of perhaps tens of thousands of American servicemen could be spared. In his history of the Second World War, Winston Churchill summarized the thinking behind the decision: “To avert a vast, indefinite butchery, to bring the war to an end, to give peace to the world, to lay healing hands upon its tortured peoples by a manifestation of overwhelming power at the cost of a few explosions, seemed, after all our toils and perils, a miracle of deliverance.” [Rhodes, p. 697].

A miracle for whom? The men and families of the men who would have been sent to the shores of Japan to fight the enemy in conventional warfare if it weren’t for the bomb, yes. But certainly not those who lived in the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Nor for the billions born since who have lived in the shadow of the Bomb.

This is the peace that mankind produces.

Apocalyptic Forerunner

When trying to picture the events Jesus talked about that will happen before He comes back, I don’t think it’s entirely off-base to imagine the desolation in Hiroshima, and multiply it the whole world over. In that coming tribulation, every citizen of every country of the world will be at risk.

I recommend looking up the book The Making of the Atomic Bomb by Richard Rhodes (which I have been quoting from in this article), and reading its final chapter, “Tongues of Fire.” As I read its account of Hiroshima’s devastation—beginning months in advance with the American military preparing an island from which to launch this and other attacks on Japan, and concluding with page after page of firsthand survivors’ recollections of the misery they witnessed that day—my heart began to pound. Rhodes makes a chilling statement:

“‘There was a fearful silence which made one feel that all people and all trees and vegetation were dead,’ remembers Yoko Ota, a Hiroshima writer who survived. The silence was the only sound the dead could make . . . They were nearer the center of the event; they died because they were members of a different polity and their killing did not therefore count officially as murder; their experience most accurately models the worst case of our common future. They numbered in the majority in Hiroshima that day.” [Rhodes, p. 715, emphasis added).

There is only one thing that can give us hope in the face of such unspeakable evil and the fear that ensues from living in an age where to be utterly destroyed remains a possibility: God’s promise of salvation.

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth had disappeared . . . I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, ‘Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever’” (Revelation 21:1-4, New Living Translation).

There is a day coming when no one will ever have to worry about destruction from bombs, guns, chemicals, tanks, landmines; a day when there will no longer be a feeling of unease that somebody in a different country might come hurt you and your family simply because you are a different skin color, religion, culture or have something they want. God will enforce His law of love, which mankind has so blatantly torn to shreds.

At that time, He will take the earth—destroyed, tattered and burned as it will have been by mankind—and remake it. All the death, the sorrow, the evil, the hatred, the legacy of humankind’s aggression against God and each other will be destroyed and forgotten. He will raise all those killed in Hiroshima and Nagasaki—and all those who have died in every war or accident or by natural causes through all of history—and they will be given a new life. A life free of hatred, sorrow and suffering; instead full of love, service and joy (Revelation 20:5, 12).

Whatever happened to Mr. Yamaguchi? After getting his bearings and finding cover at an air raid shelter that terrible day, his wounds were bandaged, and he spent the night. The next day he and his companions managed to return to their hometown—Nagasaki. Despite his wounds, he reported for work two days later, Aug. 9, 1945. At work, he and his boss were having a conversation when the second atomic bomb detonated above the city, killing tens of thousands more as the first had done in Hiroshima. Mr. Yamaguchi was not injured in the second blast, and he and his wife both went on to live into their 90s. They both died in 2010, and are survived by three children. He is the only person officially recognized by Japan for having survived both atomic blasts, though there were many others.

“The reason that I hate the atomic bomb is because of what it does to the dignity of human beings,” he said in an interview. “I can't understand why the world cannot understand the agony of the nuclear bombs. How can they keep developing these weapons?” (Michael W. Robbins, Military History, “Japanese Engineer Survived Atomic Strike on Hiroshima and Nagasaki,” July/August 2009).

There will be a day Mr. Yamaguchi will have his wish fulfilled. God speed that day.

(A version of this article was originally published at ucg.org here)

[a-random-ducktales-blog]

My thoughts on “The House of Lucky Gander”

Here are my unorganized thoughts on the new episode of Ducktales. This will probably be a mess but read it anyway.

Here are my unorganized thoughts on the new episode of Ducktales. This will probably be a mess but read it anyway.

The Story

So, the story of this episode was really good and interesting. It introduced Gladstone Gander, a character I know everyone was excited to see. The episode gave some really great insight on the characters and was just generally interesting and had a good kind of twist. The humor was great and there was just a bunch of good moments throughout the episode.

I liked that this was kind of a Donald centric episode and that both he and Scrooge were actually in this episode. Because, as much as I love the triplets and Webby, I missed seeing Donald and Scrooge in the episodes.

Characters and Relationships

Let’s start with the newest character:

Gladstone Gander

Gladstone Gander is the luckiest duck in the world. He has never had to work for anything in his life because he is just that lucky.

I thought that Gladstone was a really interesting character. I thought that I wouldn’t really like him. He is like the opposite of Donald and there’s a natural feud between them so I thought I wouldn’t really like him, but I do. He’s not my favorite, but I didn’t dislike him. I thought they handled his character well. He’s the opposite of Donald but is still likable and they didn’t treat him like a bad guy or anything.

I noticed that he’s always so casual about everything he does and he rarely gets nervous throughout the episode. He’s very confident in the fact that he’s just naturally super lucky. Even during the challenge at the end, he is completely convinced that he’s going to win and when he doesn’t, he tries to turn all the luck back on him. But, more on that later.

Anyway, I thought he was pretty good and I look forward to seeing him in future episodes.

Donald Duck

Everyone knows Donald Duck. He’s the unluckiest duck in the world. Seriously, that’s what he’s known for. He’s always unlucky.

Anyway, this is a Donald centric episode, which is great. We get to see everything go bad for him, but we don’t see him give up. Like in that scene where he keeps insisting that the “Guess how many fingers I’m holding up” man is holding twenty-seven fingers up behind his back. Which, of course, is impossible, but Donald is completely convinced that he is holding up twenty-seven fingers.

What I also noticed that he just wants the triplets to not be embarrassed by him. He wants to be the favorite uncle. But, not only is Donald acting as their parent, the triplets also have one uncle who is a trillionaire and another uncle who is completely successful without doing anything. He just wants the triplets to like him as much as they like their other uncles.

I would talk about more, but I have to do that when talking about Gladstone and Donald at the same time, so more in a minute.

Scrooge

Scrooge just wants an adventure for god’s sake. That’s it. He doesn’t really want to deal with Gladstone, he just wants to leave and have an adventure.

He seems to have gotten used to adventuring again really fast because that’s all he wants to do. He is so fast to just go and challenge the spirit of luck (that’s what I’m calling the villain because I can’t remember his name that well whoops) and is so disappointed when he doesn’t even get to participate in the challenge himself.

I think my favorite Scrooge moment of this episode was when he finally ‘gave in’ and began to check into a room, but actually just tricked the Spirit of Luck guy into showing him where the exit was. Because exits are always near where you check in. I actually stopped for a second and thought about how clever that was.

But that’s all I have to say for Scrooge right now.

Relationships

Louie and Gladstone

The reason I didn’t talk about Louie by himself is that a lot of his development happened with Gladstone and Donald.

But first, Gladstone and Louie. See, Gladstone’s life is exactly the kind of life Louie wants. As we have already seen, Louie doesn’t like having to do things himself. He’s lazy. He doesn’t like hard work. And Gladstone has had to work to get all of his fortunes because he’s just that naturally lucky. And so Louie looks up to Gladstone and is always super excited to be around him.

Gladstone doesn’t really care that Louie looks up to him. He might not even know that he’s this kid role model. When telling Louie to try to convince Donald to let him hang out with him, Gladstone knew that Donald would tag along. Gladstone really just needed Louie there to get to Donald. I’m not saying that Gladstone doesn’t care about the triplets at all, but here, he was focused on trying to use Donald to help break his lucky streak.

And when Gladstone just straight up tells Louie that he doesn’t need him and he really only needs Donald there you know, for the luck breaking stuff, Louie is so upset. I don’t think that Gladstone really meant it to be really harsh, but still, it hurt the poor kid.

Louie and Donald

Like I said when talking about Donald earlier, he just wants his nephews to like him just as much as they like their more successful uncles. And during the whole episode, Louie is basically glued to Gladstone’s side and Donald keeps being embarrassed by how unlucky he is.

But during the end of the episode, Louie knows how upset Donald is. Donald has essentially given up because he knows that he isn’t going to be as great as Gladstone and Louie feels bad about it.

So when he sees Donald just give up during the challenge, he convinces Donald to not give up like he usually does and continue on with the challenge, which leads to Donald just like getting really angry or something and then winning. It was a cute scene that turned really funny.

And by the end, Louie says that luck is overrated. Which makes me happy because he’s getting some character development.

Scrooge and Gladstone

I don’t have much to say for Scrooge and Gladstone.

It is obvious that Scrooge isn’t Gladstone’s biggest fan, while Gladstone just doesn’t care. And it is obvious why Scrooge isn’t that fond of Gladstone. It’s the same thing I’ve been saying about Gladstone the whole time: Gladstone hasn’t had to work for anything in his life and he is very proud of that. However, everyone knows that Scrooge values hard work and determination. It must irk him to see his nephew just easily have success in his life without doing anything after Scrooge had to work for years to gain all of his wealth and success.

But that’s all I have to say on that.

Donald and Gladstone

All their lives, Donald has been the unlucky one and Gladstone has been the lucky one. We even see flashbacks to when they were younger about this situation playing out. Gladstone finds twenty dollars, but Donald just gets nothing.

It’s a bit obvious that Donald and Gladstone have been compared to each other a lot. Gladstone probably doesn’t mind because he’s way more successful than Donald and he hasn't done anything. While it must suck for Donald because Gladstone is way more successful than him and he hasn’t done anything.

The whole episode they’re basically competing with each other. But then they’re against each other in the final challenge. Gladstone as the Spirit of Luck’s pawn or whatever and Donald as Scrooge��s. They start off very different. Donald just goes for it, everyone is convinced that he doesn’t have a chance anyway. While Gladstone just strolls casually because he’s convinced that he’s going to win. And Gladstone keeps getting the lucky advantage, But Donald wins because of encouragement from Louie, the one triplet who basically idolized Gladstone. And then Gladstone just tries to turn Donald’s success back onto him because Gladstone isn’t used to losing to him. That whole scene was very interesting.

I don’t know. They have an interesting kind of feud like relationship. I wonder how it will develop when Gladstone comes back.

Villians

The Spirit of Luck and Chance guy

I still can’t really remember his name.

I thought he was an interesting villain. I like the concept of a creature that absorbs luck. The character himself didn’t really stick out like a great villain to me. But he was a fine villain. I wish he had more to him, but he was still interesting enough. The thing I like the best about him was how he made everything out of magic cards. It was really interesting to me and gave really nice visuals.

The Humor

The humor, as always, was really great. Some moments were a bit predictable. Like when the Aquarium water show thing Huey was obsessed with was canceled, I expected the huge “NO!” from Huey off-screen, but when it happened, I still laughed a lot."

I really liked the joke about Dewey and the tiger and how he had already named him and was already emotionally attached. And then Scrooge was just like, “Fine you can have the tiger.” It was just funny.

Also, there was a lot of classic Donald slapstick humor. Like the game machine falling on Donald and at the end of the whole race when Donald just was like really determined to win and his eyes went all weird and he just ran with a giant cloud of dust behind him.

Also, Launchpad’s few moments were pretty great too.

The Ending

There isn’t much to say about the ending that I haven’t already talked about so I’ll just sum up my whole thoughts.

It was a nice episode. The villain could have been stronger, but I liked all the development Donald had in the episode because of Gladstone’s introduction. It was also nice to see Scrooge back in the episode.

Until next time.

[myristicisms]

Embarrassment be damned, there far more important of things to worry himself over; such as the fact he'd been so warmly hitting on the Captain's sister where quite literally anyone could have seen or heard him fumbling about like a giddy school boy with a crush for the first time. Even still though, he can't help but to stare at Claire's expression in awe. Why couldn't the captain look half as pleasant when he made that face?

Perhaps he'd been both the luckiest and unluckiest man in the world, on one hand he hadn't offended the other Redfield with his babbling but on the other, he was treading very dangerous waters just considering pursuing her. Piers wasn't a moron, he'd known well enough that Chris wouldn't let him hear the end of it of he even tried to get close to Claire in any manner that wasn't just friendly and full of the hospitality the lieutenant had been so well known for.

“ The captain ain't too harsh on us but... I think maybe you're right, he's always telling us to treat you like you're a superior y'know. ” Amusement oozes from his rather flustered voice, finding the heat in his face to slowly fade as he calms the panicked beating of his heart. Piers had done enough of a job of making a fool of himself for the day.

What finally managed to settle into familiar lightly tanned flesh quickly was set ablaze once more, eyes growing wide as though he were a deer in the headlights and for a moment he almost chokes on air.

“ Hey now-- Don't go getting my hopes up! ”

@dcvinepurpcse says;;

“Are you flirting with me?”

;; Claire to Piers

Peridot eyes widen slightly, a subtle hint of red dusting over his freckled cheeks while a gloved hand quickly moves to cover his mouth. Truthfully, the answer in of itself should have been obvious because intentions usually are supposed to be known before one opens their mouth but Piers never bothered with such a concept.

Was he flirting with the older woman? It took him a moment to fully register what he’d said before slowly lowering his hand to his chin, a sheepish smile having overtaken the shocked expression he’d once held. Claire was someone he respected just as much, if not more than, he did Chris. Between having conversations that left him feeling carefree or knowing he had someone that sort of understood him was nice after all.

The warmth that fills his chest makes him want to claw his shirt away, an intense dread sinking into his chest at the realization that staring at your friend and complimenting them repeatedly while making corny jokes was, as a matter of fact, a form of flirting. He’s dug himself a grave deep enough as is, may as well lay in it.

“That all depends, is it working on ya? ‘Cause if it is, then absolutely yes I am.” Smooth, real smooth Nivans. Barking orders and comforting dying soldiers was one thing, flirting and persuing someone; the Captain’s sister no less, was a completely different playing field that left him stumped and easily fumbling.

Piers was never much the type to hit on someone, even if he was beyond interested in said person. He hasn’t had a relationship in years, be it romantic or purely sexual in nature, due to a lack of time nevermind the nature of his chosen career. The brunette often finds himself wishing he’d just ignored his father and continued pursuing becoming a damn history teacher.

“Sorry, sorry, bad joke. I ain’t exactly the best with talking to people, I tend to accidentally flirt a lot which tends to lead to miscommunications.” Not quite a lie, though this time it was completely non-applicable. His brain betrayed him and forced him to out his odd little feelings towards the younger Redfield.

Not that he’s willing to admit that, this is the Captain’s sister, she’s off limits to everyone in the team including Piers. “I should probably bite my tongue, I’m not making my case any better am I?”

Once again embarrassment crosses his features, the tips of his ears burning a violent crimson as he averts his gaze. Avoid the cerulean gaze he’d grown horrifically fond of and everything’ll be fine, that’s the perfect plan in his panic riddled mind.

[feuilledrabbles]

Ehem... @doodling-time-lord ... thanks for following me oh my god // you followed me and I realized how much I hadn’t posted... and this fic was inspired... ((I almost didn’t tag you but)) anyway, enjoy! 

Pairing: FrUk.

(In which Francis can see strings of fate connecting lovers). 

Francis sighed, a low, dejected sound that he felt rattle through his body. He was tired. Sleep had little to no effect on his level of exhaustion. He decided to give up on the never ending climb of sleeping often enough to look healthy. In fact, he had taken little care about his appearance at all in recent events.

He was so tired. And it was all because of those stupid, god-forsaken red strings. They haunted his every day, permeating into his brain and leaving no space for anything else. Everywhere he went, there they were. It did not matter where he was, whether in the heart of Paris or a food market in the forests of Canada.

Francis was, in his opinion, cursed. He did not remember when he could not see the strings. They were normally red, sometimes purple, occasionally black. Those were the only colors he saw.

Francis blinked slowly. His eyes were bleary but he made no attempt to focus them. Even in the midst of a scrappy bar in the outskirts of London, he could see the strings. The bartender’s was connected to the DJ’s, a faint red. They must not have met yet, or had enough time to acknowledge their love.

He normally was all for love. Francis had the nickname of Cupid, after all, among his friends.

But one could only take so much. It was beyond frustrating seeing swaths of faint red without any change. The pale color buzzed against his head like a fly he couldn’t swat.

“Pathetic.” He was forced out of his pity-party with a single word, and Francis moved his eyes to the right. Though the man’s face was twisted into it’s usual sneer, there was a certain softness to it. Why, Francis had no idea. Arthur hated him. Which was truly unfortunate, since Francis normally couldn’t help himself from being near the englishman…

“Why switch the roles now of all times?” Arthur slid into the barstool next to Francis and reached out to examine the frenchman’s drink. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose, glancing at the once-again quiet blonde to his left. He was, of course, referring to the many times Arthur had drank himself comatose while Francis diligently took him home (after many pictures and other prime teasing material).

“Francis.” Arthur prodded. “Francis, I came here because… well… uh, Gilbert and Antonio sent me. Er-”

“Matthew,” Francis muttered. “And Lovino.”

“Pardon?” Arthur stared at him, baffled. He had known that his friend was drunk, but something was going on that he didn’t understand.

Francis had fallen silent and Arthur did not pursue the topic any further. He tapped on Francis’s glass. “What is this shit?”

Francis slid his eyes towards Arthur’s, confusion starting to swim through his usually clear blue eyes.

Arthur gestured weakly towards the glass. “You’re normally rather particular about your drink, especially those of the alcoholic sort. And this swill? Even I find it horrid.” Arthur waited for the snide comment about his drinking palate, or perhaps a muttered ‘go away’.

When his friend was silent, a streak of worry and nervousness flashed through Arthur. “I may have lied earlier, neither Gilbert nor Antonio sent me, I came on my own terms. I was not expecting to see you here but I am glad I found you, honestly. You look aw- worse for wear.” He corrected his verbiage at the last second, not knowing the mental state of Francis at that moment.

He made a noncommittal tone and Arthur noted it. That meant Francis was listening, to a certain point.

“You truly cannot disappear like that, even Eliza was worried-”

“Roderich.”

Arthur blinked. What did Roderich have to do with anything?

Then he narrowed his eyes in thought. “Gilbert.”

“Matthew.”

“Antonio.”

“Lovino.”

“Ludwig.”

“Feliciano.”

Arthur stared at the frenchman. Was this all he was going to respond to? Names with different, but seemingly random, names?

Gilbert, Matthew. Antonio, Lovino. Ludwig, Feliciano. Elizaveta, Roderich.

Half, maybe more than half of those names seemed to be in a relationship… Arthur stared at the counter, thinking and habitually fidgeting with his fingers. He had a theory, but he needed to test it.

“Roderich.”

“Elizaveta…”

“Feliciano?”

“Ludwig.”

“Francis, what is going-”

“I don’t know that one.”

Arthur blinked and glanced at his companion. Francis was staring at him now, bloodshot eyes brimming with liquid. He spoke again. “I don’t… I don’t know that one.”

“What don’t you know, Francis?” Arthur prompted gently. It was probably the first time he had ever been actually, legitimately worried for the frenchman’s health. He was an insuffereable twit, and Arthur could not stand his company, but… he was a civil gentleman (at least, that is what he told himself).

Francis’s eyelids drooped and he hummed quietly in thought. He looked behind him and saw the dark black string of an angry-faced man and his heart cracked ever so slightly. “I have no… string.”

Arthur backpedaled. “String? What does string have to do with anything?”

“Strings!” Francis said angrily, sitting up just a bit. “They connect everyone! Some of the luckiest have more than one, some of the unluckiest have more than one black! And if you get purple, then you are the luckiest of them all, because the universe decided you get another goddamn chance at love!”

Arthur was so taken aback that he had no response, witty or otherwise. Francis deflated into the counter once again, bemoaning to himself. “They change. They start red… turn black sometimes, turn purple after that rarely…” the tears that had been collecting behind his eyelids started dripping down his face. “I can’t do anything about it…”

Meanwhile, Arthur was certain that his (maybe) friend had gone off the deep end. He slowly brought his phone out while casually patting Francis on the back, who was muttering to himself. Arthur brought the phone to his ears.

“Hello, this is Arthur- no, I do not- honestly, my call was not for- Gilbert, please, shut the fuck up. Your friend has near drunk himself to death, and now he’s raving about… strings?”

He listened carefully and the loud music that had been pounding through the receiver cut off and Gilbert’s formerly joking tone was dead serious (for once).

“Arthur, whatever you do, do not- and I’m not kidding here- do not rebuke him. I don’t care- hell, I could care less if you think he belongs in the looney bin, but I believe him, and he says that- hear me out you old prick, I’m not done, he says that he can see the strings between lovers.”

Arthur just about dropped the phone as his face blanched. The mutterings of Francis suddenly seemed a lot more sinister. There was so much power in knowing one’s true love. He glanced at the frenchman again, a few fearful yet curious thoughts running through his head. Were there those without strings? He assumed so, since there was a number of aromantics in the world… and that brought up something else, was it for romantic love, or sexual love, or both? Regardless, Arthur knew that he himself was neither aro nor ace, so that meant that there had to be one string connected to him, correct?

Arthur rubbed at his temples and mumbled something over the phone, interrupting Gilbert, and hanging up. He stared at Francis was renewed curiosity and lightly prodded him in the shoulder. Francis scrunched his nose up and sat up, only to lean back in his chair.

“Fran-” Arthur stopped himself, since it was the frenchman’s name that had originally gotten him into the minor funk that had caused Arthur to call Gilbert. “Erm, so you can see the strings of lovers…” he started lamely.

Francis turned his eyes to the brit and nodded, a noise of confirmation coming from his mouth.

Arthur continued. “And those names you were saying before… do they have strings connecting them?”

Francis nodded again.

“Does… Gilbert know, that his, well, his soulmate is Matthew?”

Francis started to nod his head but froze before shaking it left to right. Arthur worried his lip in thought, debating whether or not to ask.

Well, Francis was drunk, and most likely would not remember this. “Who is my string connected to?”

Francis blinked. Then blinked again. He stared down at his hands, which were clenching and unclenching. Francis felt woozy but also confused, as he always did when he thought of Arthur. Arthur had taken his seeing of strings in stride, but of course, he could also be faking it. Francis would not put it past him.

Still… Francis had no idea why he saw no string coming from the brit. He dismissed the thought of him being ace or aro; those people always glowed a dim gold color. If they were one of those, they would glow a dim silver color and had the possibility of a string.

Regardless, Arthur did not glow. Nor did he have a string. Which baffled Francis to no end, and it did not help that he was drunk while trying to make sense of this predicament once more.

“Francis?” Arthur prodded gently.

Francis steeled himself and stared directly at Arthur. “You don’t have a string.”

“Oh.” Arthur stared at the counter. “Does this mean I don’t have a soulmate, then?”

“I don’t…” Francis clenched his hands together in frustration. “I don’t know, I don’t know! You confuse me so much! Bon sang,” he cursed. “There is nothing… euh, english… conventional about you.”

“Well!” Arthur huffed. He was a gentleman, no doubt, but he was not going to sit by and be insulted! And Arthur was certain that the frog had meant it as an insult.

He did not get another word out, however, as Francis continued in a muttered, angry tone. “Which is why it is confusing why I insist on returning to you.” He finished his statement with a very mature pout and fiddled with his fingers absentmindedly.

“Erm…” Arthur stared wide-eyed at the frenchman. “I think… I need to get you home.”

Francis blinked a few times, a thoughtful expression overtaking his features. “Okay.”

Arthur did not question how trusting Francis was being nor how he knew the way to his house, for as he dragged the suddenly-deadweight Francis beside him, his mind was going a mile a minute, and he was reassessing every moment he had ever spent with the confusing but intriguing frenchman.