#he’d have to become the main character or i’d throw several hands

[ronnierosest]

What if joey went curly dirty blonde for dandelion what then-

[theirbbygirl]

Second Lead Syndrome

Word Count: ~8.7k words

liked this? there’s more on my masterlist!

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Comedy, Female reader insert

Description: Y/n and Minho have been friends for more than 2 years now, but suddenly she begins to see herself as the mere second lead in Minho’s story. Will she be the rare second lead who gets her own happy ending?

Warnings: some crying, themes of unrequited love (if there’s anything that I missed don’t hesitated to let me know!) 

I’d only ever encountered Second Lead Syndrome in the dramas I’d watched. Wanting the girl to end up with the second lead who was so obviously the better and healthier choice, but like every avid watcher of kdramas, it's more than likely for the main leads to end up with each other, that was just how it worked. What I never thought I’d encounter was seeing it happen before my own eyes and experience it firsthand.

Life was never supposed to be a kdrama. Life was supposed to be simple, a straight line, going from point A to B with no complications. But life never really went my way did it? It just had to throw in one variable, one man that had too much influence on my life. 

I couldn’t remember the first time I met Minho. It was probably sometime in the first grade when his family first moved in next to mine. But alas, we were both too young to remember exactly what sparked our friendship. One day we were strangers and the next we had given our parents a near heart attack when we both went after a stray cat on the way back home (my mom’s words, not ours).  From then my memories were filled with him, just us besties hanging out like anyone would with their best friend. First party, first mental breakdown, first drink, all with him. Soon enough we were in our final year of University, and ultimately, adults. 

The Minho I knew was laid back, not too extroverted but not too introverted either. While I completely contrasted him, always anxious about something, wanting perfection to the T, and completely and utterly introverted.  Our friendship, moving into University, sparked a lot of questions. You wouldn’t typically find the introverted straight-A student with the borderline badboy tsundere walking and laughing in the halls together, spending practically every waking moment together. But Minho didn’t care, and neither did I, so we moved through life pretty easily. 

One of the few things we had in common was our love for cats, and when we both foudn out there was a cat cafe just a few minutes walk from our campus, you best bet we spent too much of our time and money there. Studying, hanging out, anything you could imagine. If we weren’t in one of our dorms, we were more than likely to be in the cat cafe. 

Every day after class we’d go there and we’d complain about our least favorite professors and how lectures would seemingly last for longer than they should. Additionally, Minho had almost become akin to my own dormmate with how much time he spent in my dorm. He’d come in whenever he wished, stealing my frozen pizzas and sodas, using my Netflix account on my TV to watch weird National Geographic shows and make random comments like “that snake looks just like Kim Seungmin,” or “look its Hannie” whenever a squirrel came on screen. Minho was always there when I needed a drinking partner after bombing a test or assignment, pouring me shots of soju until I passed out and bringing me to my bed and tucking me in whiel he would sleep on the couch to make sure I wouldn’t do anything stupid in the middle of the night. 

Although, more people knew Minho’s name than mine, but that didn’t bother any of us. We continued on being friends as usual, and it felt like nothing would change that. Life was moving in a straight line like it should’ve always been.

At least, that’s what it felt like until February, just a few months before we graduated. 

I make my way to our usual spot in the courtyard after buying an iced coffee and a snickers bar from the vending machine next to my classroom, I walk up behind Minho sitting on a bench when I find him staring out in front of him instead of looking at cat videos on his phone like he usually does. Slowing my walk, I trail my eyes to the vague direction he’s facing and see that he’s looking at Kim Seungmin and a girl chatting outside the classroom. I ignore the thought, opting to think that Minho must’ve spaced out thinking about how he would irritate Seungmin next class. I plop down next to him when he still doesn’t take note of my arrival, so I get right next to his ear and blow cold air into it, snickering when he jolts in surprise. 

“What was that for?” He whines, fake annoyed.

“You got lost up in your thoughts for a certain Kim Seungmin there.” I snicker some more, opening my snickers (hehe) bar.

Just as I’m about to take the first bite of the sugary goodness, the chocolate bar gets snatched out of my hands and a certain Lee Minho takes an obnoxious bite out of it, not even giving it back but eating it like it was his. I pout, watching him devour my snack, knowing that I couldn’t do anything to get it back. 

“For your information, I was not thinking about Kim Seungmin.” He says pointedly, slightly muffled by the chocolate in his mouth.

I sigh, knowing I wasn’t going to get that chocolate bar back any time soon, and open my iced coffee. “So what were you thinking about then?” I ask before taking a sip.

“Don’t know, spaced out.” Is all the answer I get and I highly doubt him, but I brush it off anyways and don’t pry. 

Minho and I slide into our usual conversation about assignments, plans for the week, and everything under the sun. We talk about how he’s planning to visit home the next day and stay for a weekend and how excited he is to see his cats after a long time, I unknowingly smile at his ramble about how talkative Dori is, and just sit back and listen. I never took into account how healing it was to just watch and listen to him talk, the sultry of his voice and his little exclamations of frustration or excitement that came once in a while. I had to catch myself from staring when he turned to look at me, having asked me a question I didn’t catch.

“Sorry what was that?” I ask.

“Am I that beautiful for you to have lost your hearing to my handsome face?” I couldn’t just tell him that that was basically what had happened, it would inflate his ego by too much and reveal everything I’d hidden thus far.

“The heck? No, I was thinking about how great it would be to get some peace and quiet while you’re not around this weekend.” I lie, having Minho around is the only thing that brings me entertainment that isn’t endless sappy kdramas on my laptop, but he can never know that. 

Minho scoffs, says something under his breath that I don’t quite catch, then turns back to me. “You love me.” He says with a pout.

“Unfortunately I do.” 

That was the first of many inconspicuous confessions. 

It was nearing 3 or 4 am and I was about halfway done with another kdrama when several knocks resound through the small living space. Knowing exactly who it is, I only shout back “you know the code!” and moments later the door opens. 

I don’t bother to get up and greet Minho, this exact scene has happened too many times for either of us to care at this point, and it doesn’t surprise me that the moment he enters he shouts, “Honey I’m home!” like we’re in some cheesy romcom. 

“Mhmm, welcome home, leech.” I enunciate the last word purposely, but I know he won’t bat an eye at the term. I continue to chew my popcorn while he wanders through my cabinets, looking for snacks. “There’s chips in the cabinet next to the fridge and sprite in there too. If you want more food order Chinese takeout.” 

“I don’t have my wallet.” I can practically hear his pout from where I sat, eyes unmoving from the TV screen. 

“You know where mine is, but you have to pay me back.” A few seconds pass with no response until suddenly he’s next to me and kissing my cheek.

“I loveeee you!” He says too sweetly, retreating back to the mini-kitchen to order takeout.

“Mhmm, I love you too.” I say, not loud enough for him to hear the confidence missing from my tone. 

Continuing to watch the episode of in front of me, I remain in my comfortable position, only moving to lift my legs when Minho comes back to sit on the couch under my legs and the blanket. 

“Oh you’re watching this one?” He asks, reaching into the bowl of popcorn I offer him.

“Yeah, didn’t have anything else to watch so I put it on since everyone seems to like it so much.” 

“Mm,” he hums while also indulging himself into the scenes playing in front of him. “You’re probably team potato guy, right?” 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I am!” I scoff.

“I don’t know, I still think she should end up with Jae-eon.”

“Are you crazy? He literally leads her on like every playboy and is ruining her mentality by not defining their relationship.” 

“Yeah, but they’re so cute together, and you can totally tell he feels something for her.” He argues.

“Just cause they’re cute together doesn’t mean they’re good for each other, the entire guy is a walking red flag, I don’t understand why she doesn’t just walk away when she’s had experience with a shit boyfriend.” I sigh.

“You, have major second lead syndrome.” He points an accusing finger at me.

“So what? It’s for good reason, the main lead is toxic as fuck and you can’t change my mind.” I upturn my nose, turning back to the TV and continuing to watch the episode. 

The mentioning of the second lead sends a flurry of thoughts into my brain for a reason I can’t comprehend. Sometimes the main leads aren’t that bad but still we want the main character to end up with the second lead, maybe out of our own natural selfishness because we prefer the second lead more. I shake the thoughts away, trying to convince myself that kdramas were only works of fiction and too cheesy to be real, yet for whatever reason I always felt a connection with the second leads, like our emotions directed to our crushes were the same, because I knew that I would always be the second lead in Minho’s story. 

Minho’s name was always called out more times than mine was growing up, which I didn’t really mind until our hangout time would be seriously cut down because he had to hang out with other friends. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that he had friends, but there was a little bit of selfishness in me that wanted him to myself.

A new drama and a few episodes later, plus Chinese takeout, lead to our eventual demise. We both fall asleep on the couch in less than comfortable positions and wake up with stiff-neck, us groaning at the pain. 

We continue on with our usual morning routines, taking turns freshening up in the bathroom before heading out for breakfast at Paws and Pastries since we were both too lazy to make food ourselves. Besides, hot coffee in the morning plus good sandwiches AND cats? What more could you ask for?

When we enter the cat cafe I notice a familiar face behind the cashier, it was the same girl Seungmin was talking to on Friday, and the same girl I caught Minho staring at. We walk up to the cashier, I order my food first, a simple breakfast sandwich with a coffee to go with it and wait next to Minho to finish ordering. 

I made the mistake up glancing up at his face as he was telling his order to her, Ahra, her name tag read. There was something in his eyes that glinted that I had never seen before, not when he talked to Han and not when he talked to me. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of emotion in the middle of my chest before forcing myself to look back down, inserting my card and paying for everything. I sent the girl a thank you and a kind smile after she told us our food would be right over, and both me and Minho went over to our usual table in the back corner next to the cat’s jungle gym and right up next to the window. I get lost in my thoughts while we begin playing with the cats we were so accustomed to. 

Like most second leads, I knew exactly what my feelings were. I was practically an adult, how could I miss the fast beating of my heart or my clammy hands whenever I was around him? But again, like most second leads, I knew I’d never get a chance with him, not when everything we did together was purely platonic. It was painfully obvious that I’d be stuck with an unrequited love for who knows how long, and I couldn’t just detach myself from him all of a sudden to get over my feelings because a) he’d notice and force me to tell him what was wrong, ultimately leading me to tell him that I had feelings for him, and b) the moment I would come back or see him for even just a second I know I would develop those feelings all over again. Neither of which were choices I was willing to take so I suck it up and see him every day, ignoring everything my heart was telling me. 

I look up from the cat that I’m petting in my lap and look at Minho again, only to find him staring at Ahra who was taking people’s orders with a perfect pearly smile. It was in that moment that I knew, I had just found the female lead of Minho’s story.

3 weeks go by in a similar manner. Minho and I see Ahra around campus a few times and with some twisted fate, she’s on the clock every time we go to Paws and Pastries. Minho, being his smooth self, easily gets himself acquainted with her. They laugh and giggle so naturally and can slip into conversation so easily I’m almost envious of Minho and his non-introverted self. 

Not being one to try and stop fate, I watch it all happen. Telling Minho to ask her out already and teasing him about how lovesick he gets when he sees her nearby or at the cafe. I know Minho likes her when he blushes or gets defensive whenever I mention her in our conversations even though he’s never explicitly told me himself. I put on a face in front of him whenever these conversations come up, not wanting to get in the way of his happiness. 

One day some of our friends want to meet up outside of campus, we make plans to meet up at a bowling alley, ready to have fun until the late evening hours. Seungmin brought Ahra along with him, asking if it was okay to invite her since they were friends. Everyone agrees and we all meet up as planned. When everyone gets there, including Seungmin and Ahra, we introduce ourselves, Minho not having to introduce himself and easily speaking with her like they always did whenever running into each other. All the the boys have raised brows and mischievous smiles as they watch the interaction between the two, but only one looks at me in concern. 

A majority of the night passes by with laughter and teasing, how Chan was terrible at bowling this night and Minho easily beating him despite never doing too well on our previous adventures to the bowling alley. I spend the night with the rest of the boys, while Minho and Ahra spend time getting to know each other even more. There’s a point in the evening where I see Minho hold out his phone to Ahra to exchange numbers, I can hear her giggle when they take a selfie together, probably for her profile picture. I have to turn my head away quickly to ignore the cracking of my own heart when Minho puts his arm on the couch behind Ahra, he does it so naturally, yet he’s never done it with me. I will my thoughts to focus on the game and not on Minho, not noticing the same pair of concerned eyes until they speak up.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin asks. 

“Hm? Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” My voice cracks halfway through and I try to hide my sad eyes, even though I was fully aware that Hyunjin had probably noticed that something was up.

“‘Cause you seem pretty affected by that scene over there.” He motions to Minho and Ahra with a nod of his head. 

“It’s nothing, Hyun, just nice seeing Minho talking to more people.”

“Y/n, you know he talks to people all the time, and you’re not nearly as affected then as you are now.” 

“Hyunjin, really, it’s fine.” I try to convince him but he says something that lets me know that he knows.

“You like Minho.”

“What? No that’s absurd I-“ He looks at me pointedly, and I sigh in defeat. “Yeah, okay, you got me.”

“Why don’t you say anything? Clearly it hurts you to see him like that.” He refers to Minho getting cozy with her.

“Hyunjin, it’s clear that everything we have is platonic, he even called me his sister several times. And who am I to get in the way of him getting into a relationship? That’s not my place to say anything, especially when his last girlfriend was 2 years ago.” 

“I get that, but shouldn’t he at least deserve to know? He says that he knows everything about you, but there’s one thing that he doesn't. You know practically everything about him, isn’t it a little unfair?” 

“We have choices as to what we share with each other and what we don’t, it’s his choice to tell me what he wants to and my choice to tell him what I want to tell him. Besides, he hasn’t even told me that he has a crush on Ahra yet.” 

“So maybe he doesn’t then.” 

“Hyunjin, just look at him, he’s a puppy in love.” I glance back over to Minho and Ahra sitting parallel to us. Minho is smiling brightly, more brightly than I had seen in a while and I can’t help but let my lips upturn at the corners just slightly in another sad smile. 

Hyunjin sighs next to me, and I look back to him. “I’m sorry y/n, I really wish he would end up with you instead of her, it doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“Hey, don’t say that, Ahra seems like a nice girl, she and Minho will get along great. And nothing in life is fair Hyunjin, that’s just something you come to accept.” I say, getting up. “I’m gonna get some drinks, does anyone want anything?” I ask everyone.

“Cola!” “Me too!” “Me three!” “A lemonade please.” A few of the boys shout back.

“Anything for you guys?” I turn to Minho and Ahra. They both shake their heads. “Okay then, I’ll be back in a minute guys.” I smile at the group before going to get the drinks. 

While walking away from the group I let a teardrop fall from my eye, wiping it away just before I order.

Life’s unfair, that’s just something I have to accept. 

A week goes by and Minho’s talking about how he and Ahra message often, how he thinks they get along well and he’s gonna ask her out.

Another week goes by and they’ve gone on their first date, he takes her to the beach and they have a picnic. 

Two weeks after that they’ve gone on several dates and are officially boyfriend and girlfriend, I don’t even find out separately at this point, I find out with the rest of the group over dinner.

A few days after that Minho calls off one of our late night binge watching sessions, texting me an apology and that Ahra needs him. I tell him it’s okay and to send my regards to her. 

It’s a week and half after and Minho regularly calls off our meetups at the cafe after school or at one another’s dorms to tend to Ahra. I tell him it’s fine each time and to not feel bad. He did the same today, and I sit alone at our usual table, mindlessly petting a cat in my lap while zoning out into in my mug of coffee. 

All while this happens, I watch, and I let it happen. I don’t fight for him because it didn’t feel right, sometimes second leads let their love fall for someone else, and that’s all it felt like I could do. 

Fighting for Minho felt selfish, especially when I knew I had no chance and he’d already fallen for Ahra. I couldn’t suddenly come out of the blue and tell him “hey, I have feelings for you,” when he’s already dating Ahra, I’d look like a major asshole if I did. All I could do was watch and see how we begun to drift farther and farther apart. 

With Minho being absent more often, I don’t get to tell him much. Like the internship offer I got to continue pursuing graphic design in Itaewon. I got the email almost a week ago, and I had two more weeks to decide if I was going to take the offer. With nobody to consult about it with I continue to push it to the back of my mind, not wanting to deal with more stress just yet. 

Just as I’m taking another sip of my coffee a familiar head of long blonde hair enters the cafe. My head tilts to the side in confusion as he scans the room for someone when he meets eyes with me, he makes his way over and sits in the seat in front of me and doesn’t say anything.

“You’re rarely on this side of town, why are you here?” I ask Hyunjin first.

“I heard something from Ms. Kim in our art class and needed to know if it was true.” He says seriously.

“What…” I feel like I know what he’s going to say, but I ask anyways. “What did you hear?” 

“That you were offered an internship in Itaewon.” 

“Hyunjin I-“

“Is it really true? She said you had two more weeks to decide, how come you haven’t told anybody? Does Minho know? Are you gonna leave? What about-” He begins to spurt out question after question and it’s almost too much for me to handle.

“Hyunjin!” I raise my voice just slightly to get him to stop but I have to turn it down again when the volume of my voice makes a few of the other customers’ heads turn. “Calm down, yes it’s true, yes I have two more weeks to decide if I’m going or not, I didn’t know how I would tell any of you, no, Minho doesn’t know and I don’t plan on telling him.” 

“Are you… Are you gonna take the offer?” He asks slowly.

I prop my elbows onto the table as the cat leaves my lap and my head drops into my hands as I sigh in exasperation. “I don’t know.” Tears are gathering in my eyes as I think about it. 

“Y/n, have you thought about the offer at all?” 

“Yes and no.” I don’t need to lift my head to sense Hyunjin’s confusion. “It’s hard to think about it when you’re watching your crush of 2 years date someone else while you’re also trying to finish up your senior year. But it’s also all I can think about when I’m alone, which I find myself a lot, thinking about having to find a place to live in Itaewon and transfer and mentally prepare to leave you all here, but if I don’t take it then it’ll be even harder to find an offer like this. It’s all I can think about and also something that I can’t bring myself to think about, Hyunjin.” I lift my head and my teary eyes meet his own. 

“Y/n…” His voice breaks saying my name.

“I think I’m going to take it.” I pause. “Once I finish all of my final assignments the only thing I have left to really worry about is graduating and finding a job, and I don’t think I can take watching Minho and Ahra anymore Hyun, I don’t think I can stomach it. I’m happy for them, I truly am, but it’s also affecting me and I don’t think I should ignore that anymore. If I’m in Itaewon I have a job and I won’t have to worry about feelings anymore, two birds with one stone.” 

I see the hesitancy in Hyunjin’s facial expressions before he speaks. “If that’s what you think you should do, then I’ll support you all the way. But shouldn’t you tell Minho about this?” 

“I’m not, because if I do, Minho is gonna find some way to get me to stay and I’ll crumble and stay because he affects me the most.” Hyunjin merely nods in response. “Hyunjin, you are the only one that can know about this, okay? I can’t have everyone else know this, especially Minho, okay?”

Hesitation again, and then, “Okay.” 

Hyunjin keeps his promise, he keeps the secret of me leaving from everyone. Even as graduation inches closer and our group begins to talk more about job searching, what comes next, and similar topics, the two of us keep it a secret. Whenever they asked me what I was thinking of doing next I always just told them “oh probably looking for internships nearby,” and no more questions are asked. 

Minho and Ahra were still very much in love, even more than before, if the growing absence of Minho’s presence was anything to go by. I barely saw Minho anymore, maybe catching him at the end of the hall every once in awhile, but he was always walking with Ahra so all I could say was “hello” and “goodbye.” 

Each goodbye begun to hold more and more weight as the days passed. Even the short ones I would tell Minho after passing him in the halls. I couldn’t even conjure how I would tell everyone, maybe send a letter to each of their places? A text message? Tell them after the graduation ceremony just before I left for the train station? I thought about how I would say goodbye as I begun to pack up my dorm. Graduation was nearing, I had already turned in all of my final assignments, and all there was left was to pack. I would leave after the ceremony ended, sometime in the afternoon. I wouldn’t even get the chance to properly celebrate being graduates with my friends because I was leaving in the afternoon. I’d get situated in my new apartment in Itaewon and get accustomed to new life outside of Gimpo. 

The thought of leaving panged my heart harshly, I had never left Gimpo permanently before. Sure, I had gone on trips to the US and Singapore and Seoul before, but I had never moved from Gimpo. I was born and raised in Gimpo, met Minho and all of our friends here, so the thought of moving for the first time did something to my heart. I attended all of our group hangouts with a nostalgic mindset, remembering the first time we all met, when we all got wasted one time on a Friday night after some big exam week. I look around our table of friends and think about how much I’ll miss all of this when I leave for Itaewon. 

Another thing that panged my heart, Minho and I distancing. I knew it was coming, Minho and I didn’t text or talk about hanging out anymore. He walked Ahra to her classes now, and had dates with her after class instead of meeting me at our cafe. Eventually I stopped getting apology messages, and stopped expecting him at the cafe anymore. I couldn’t blame him, Ahra was his girlfriend and I accepted that long ago. Instead I just played the supportive friend on the sidelines, and I’d continue to play that role for as long as I had to. 

It came to be the night before we graduated, and all of us minus Minho and Ahra were sat around a table in one of the restaurants we frequented, it wasn’t too late in the evening, and we all just sat in silence after finishing our food with bottles and glasses of soju now sitting in front of us. A majority of our meal was full of reminiscing, talking about memories that crack everyone up and left smiles on our faces. 

“So, we really graduate tomorrow, huh?” Changbin says when the table quiets down.

“Yeah, I guess we do.” Chan says quietly. 

My eyes tear up and I begin to sniff without control, the weight of my department tomorrow weighing heavily on my shoulders. Hyunjin puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me a tissue, whispering “it’s okay, it’s okay” to me while I try to calm down.

Everyone looks at me in confusion before Chan speaks first. “Y/n are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” I trail off, not sure what to say.

“Do you want to tell them?” Hyunjin asks softly.

“Tell us what?” Seungmin says this time.

Hyunjin looks to me first before nodding, and I begin to spill my secret. “I got an internship offer.” 

The table erupts in cheers and I get congratulations thrown back at me before I can even continue.

“But…” Immediately everyone silences and looks to me in expectation. “It’s in Itaewon.” 

There’s a tense air that falls around us. “What?” Felix says in disbelief.

“You’re not leaving us, right Noona?” Jeongin asks from another part of the table. 

I look to Jeongin with sad eyes, smiling sadly. “I leave tomorrow, after our graduation ceremony.” There’s some gasps around the table.

“What?! Y/n, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Changbin blows up and Chan has to place a hand on his shoulder to restrain him.

“I didn’t want every time we met leading up to graduation to feel like a goodbye, Bin, I couldn’t handle that. So I kept it from you all so there wasn’t this tension every time we met.” I explained.

“Does Minho know?” Seungmin asks this time, and I shake my head.

“Y/n…” Han says worriedly.

“Guys, I know I’m not the only one that’s noticed that me and Minho aren’t that close anymore, so I haven’t really gotten the chance to tell him. But I told Hyunjin this a long time ago, that I wouldn’t tell Minho specifically, because there’s some things that I need to figure out and if I told him he’d find some way to keep me from going, or even worse, follow me. At least with Ahra by his side he won’t follow me to Itaewon.” There’s nods all around the table, understanding where I’m coming from.

“We’re gonna miss you a lot.” Felix sniffs and I coo, getting up from my seat to wrap my arms around him from behind. 

“I’m gonna miss you all too.” I sniff with him, a few tears escaping my eyes. 

Chan comes to join our hug, then Han, then Jeongin, and soon enough everyone has joined the group hug with me in the middle. All of us are crying, and I had never felt more loved than that moment. 

Eventually we break away from the hug and return to our seats, everyone dabbing at their eyes with tissues and sniffing. 

“Let’s all stop crying, tonight is a night to celebrate, all of us graduate tomorrow, and our dear Y/n got an internship offer in a big city!” Han holds up a drink and we all do the same, cheering and clinking our glasses together and celebrating the night away. 

The next morning I get ready for graduation early, putting on my makeup and doing my hair, and sending a message. 

to: [cat dad who’s a leech :D]

hey, can you meet me at p&p in thirty?

My heart picks up the pace as I send the message, I didn’t expect him to answer so quickly yet his message pings my phone within 2 minutes. 

from: [cat dad who’s a leech :D]

sure, i can be there

to: [cat dad who’s a leech :D]

sweet, i’ll see you there

I turn my phone off and take a deep breath, we still had a few hours before we had to be at the school for our graduation ceremony, I’d have to leave just a few minutes after the ceremony ended which wouldn’t give me enough time to tell Minho, so, I made the painful decision the night before to tell him in the morning. I’d do it in our favorite spot in the corner of our favorite cat cafe, tell him the news slowly and hope that he takes it well. 

I leave my house and 15 minutes later I’m in our usual booth, my coffee order sitting in front of me and the cats all wandering around as there weren’t too many people since it was relatively early in the morning. I already bought Minho his typical Iced Americano and it sat in front of me, awaiting it’s owner. 

10 minutes later Minho arrives and makes his way to the table, sitting in front of me, smiling, unknowing of what’s about to happen. 

“Hey.” I smile at him.

“Hey you.” He smiles back brightly. “Sorry I couldn’t see you guys last night, I took Ahra out for dinner last night on a date.”

“It’s completely alright, how are you guys?” 

“Pretty good, things are going okay right now.” He answers.

“That’s good.” Nervously I take a sip of my macchiato in front of me, my leg bouncing in anxiety. 

“Y/n? Is everything alright? Your leg’s bouncing pretty fast right now.” Curse Minho and the fact that he knows so much about me, he reaches out for my wrist and checks my pulse, quickly noticing how fast it’s beating as his brows furrow in confusion. 

“Minho, there’s something I need to tell you.��� I say, retracting my wrist from his grip. He doesn’t answer me but instead tilts his head like a cat does when it looks at its owner questionably. “I’m leaving.” 

“What?” He asks.

How could one look so endearing, head tilted and eyes full of emotion as I break the news to him? I ask myself. “I got an internship offer for a company in Itaewon, I accepted it and I’m leaving for Itaewon, today.” 

“You’re leaving today?” He says in disbelief, sounding out of breath.

I nod and continue. “After the graduation today I have to catch my bus. I didn’t have any other time to tell you so I had to tell you now.” 

“You’re… You’re just telling me now? Do the others know about this?” 

“I only told them last night.”

“You couldn’t have thought of telling me sooner?” He starts to get angry.

“Minho I-“

“What happened to telling me everything, huh? What happened to when we used to know everything about each other?”

“Minho, those days are long behind us, you have bigger priorities now, like putting your focus on your girlfriend, Minho. I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d do something rash, and I didn’t even tell the others until last night because I knew every time we’d see each other it would be like preparing for the day I leave. You and Ahra have something so great going on for the two of you right now and telling you that I was leaving would take you away from that, and I can’t do that to you or her. Ahra is an amazing girl, and you have her now.”

“Will you at least visit?” His eyes are full of tears, some of the first I’ve seen in years and I hate that I’m the cause of it. 

“I don’t know yet, there’s some things I need to figure out myself first, before I can visit. But at some point maybe I will, when I’ve figured things out I’ll try visiting from time to time.” I offer him a sad smile. 

After a few moments of silence I get up from my seat. 

“We still have a graduation left, Min, I’ll still see you then.” I ruffle his hair and walk out of the cafe, no more secrets but one weighing down on my chest. 

The Graduation ceremony passes by in a blur. One moment we were listening to the speeches of each of the professors and the next we were tossing our caps into the air, cheering as we became alumni of our university. 

Our friend group met up in the front of the school, taking pictures with our parents and congratulating each other. Eventually, the time comes and I have to go. 

Our group stands in a circle, unmoving, as we all look at each other. 

“I’m gonna miss all of you so much.” I say in tears as my voice breaks.

“We’re gonna miss you too, Y/n.” Hyunjin says. At his words everyone gathers into a group hug full of tears and the weight of a goodbye on our shoulders. 

“You better promise to visit us, okay?” Felix holds me by the shoulders and makes a point to look me in the eye. Not trusting my voice, I nod and he brings me into one more hug. 

I hug each of them individually, saying a few words, before I reach the last person. 

I hug Minho and look into his eyes for the last time for a while.

“I’ll miss you.” He whispers.

“Me too.” And that’s all I can say. 

I leave the campus for the last time, hopping in my car to head to the station and start anew.

Second leads always leave in the end, they leave and let the two main leads have a happy ending. That’s what it felt like I was doing, and I couldn’t tell if I was content with my choice or not. 

Two and a half months in Itaewon passes quickly. 

The move into my new apartment was smooth, and it was odd to be in a bigger space than a small dorm room. It felt like I had more space than I knew what to do with. 

My internship was moving along smoothly as well, everyone I had met so far were really kind and taught me a lot. I was worried about feeling out of place but I had met a few other girls not much older than me who helped me feel at home. 

Being alone in a big city was unnerving, but what made it so much more comfortable was the addition of a cat that my parents had bought me as my graduation gift. She was a chartreux cat who I named Luna because I had always dreamed of naming my first cat that. My parents covered most of the costs of basic things like cat toys, a scratch post, her bed, and similar things. I thanked my parents endlessly when they came over to my apartment a week after I had moved in and gave me Luna. I wasn’t gone for too long during the day and always left food for her, she was great company when I came home and worked on projects late into the evening, curling up into my lap like the cats at the old cafe used to. She was my best friend in a city I was still getting accustomed to. 

I hadn’t talked to the guys much, I’d talked with them a few times in the group chat about how their job searches were going and trips they were planning to take soon. It was nice talking with them every so often but all of us were still pretty busy moving onto the next chapter of our lives. 

I hadn’t talked to Minho since I left, I’d assumed that he and Ahra were doing well, but that’s all that was, assumption. None of the boys talked about him and I couldn’t understand why, but I never asked since I was supposed to be moving on from my feelings in the first place. I thought I had been doing pretty well until something would come up that reminded me of him, like his favorite song would play in the cafe I bought my morning coffee in and spent my breaks at, or snapchat would send me “Today, 1 year ago” memories of him and me fooling around at Paws and Pastries. Whenever that would happen I’d be sent back to square one, and it felt like I’d never move on from Minho. 

I was on my way out to grab a coffee and spend my off day walking around, maybe looking into a few shops when I got a call from Hyunjin.

“Y/n! My favorite girl, how are you?”

“Hyunjin? What’s with the call?”

“What? Can I not call my friends from time to time?”

“Not when you’re notorious for calling your ‘friends’ after you’ve done something wrong.” I sigh.

“That was one time! Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

“You dragged Jeongin to a party! And got him wasted!” 

“One. Time. Y/n. It was one time.”

“One time is enough for you to be in trouble for life, Hyun.”

“Okay, whatever, but I was meaning to ask you, what’re your plans for today?” 

“Me? I was just planning to go out, today’s my day off so I was gonna visit this one cafe and see some shops, why?” 

“No reason, what time do you think you’ll be home?” 

“Maybe five?”

“Great, okay, I have to go now, Han’s calling me, bye!” Hyunjin hangs up before I can ask him what’s with the weird questions.

“Hyunjin- Oh great he hung up.” I put my phone in my pocket before looking down at Luna who’s stretching near my legs. “Your uncle Hyunjin is quite the odd one, isn’t he Luna, hm?” I ask her and she meows back in response. “Weird indeed, but that’s just how he is. Mommy’s gonna spend her day out and then she’ll come home and we can watch the TV together, okay? I’ll be home soon.” I pick up Luna and set her on her little bed before ensuring everything is safe and make my way out the door. 

I spend the day eating at a large cat cafe that actually had an assortment of books with little reading areas while the cats roamed around everywhere. It was much bigger than the cafe in Gimpo, but I would always correlate that one with home. 

After I spent a bit of time reading there I went out and explored the shops for a few hours, bought some new jeans and a few blouses plus some makeup things. I got Subway for lunch and explored just a little bit more before heading home. Instead of going straight home, I decided to take the long way, going through the streets not minding the extra weight the few shopping bags I was holding in my hands gave me. The sun was just barely beginning to set as I walked into my apartment complex, getting into the elevator and pressing the button for my floor. 

I walk down the hallway to my door and am surprised when a familiar figure greets me there. 

“Minho?” I say as I walk closer. 

“Y/n!” He says happily, bringing me into a hug. 

“What are you doing here? Actually- Wait- Don’t answer that, do you wanna come inside?” I ask him.

“Sure.” He responds. 

I unlock the door and bring my bags in, setting them by the door. “Luna! Mommy’s home!” I call out automatically.

Luna meows and comes out of the bedroom, walking her way up to me before I pick her up. 

“You got a cat?” Minho asks.

“Yeah, parents brought her to me about a week after I moved in.” I put Luna back down and she moves to sit on the arm of the couch, her favorite spot to sit when the sun goes down.

“And you named her Luna,” He smiles fondly. “You always wanted to name your cat Luna.” 

“I’m surprised you remember that.” I chuckle. “Do you want some coffee?” 

“Sure.” 

“I’ll get that brewing, just give me a few minutes, you can take a seat on the couch and make yourself at home!” I tell him as I quickly retreat to the kitchen.

I have to take a few breaths when I’m far away enough from Minho, my heart beating just as fast as it would when I was around him back then. It was clear I hadn’t moved on at all. 

I brew the coffee as promised and wait next to the coffee machine with two mugs ready. A voice chimes in behind me.

“Your place is much bigger than the dorms.” He chuckles.

“Tell me about it, it was so weird buying more furniture than I was used to.” I laugh with him. 

The machine finishes brewing the coffee and I pour it into the two mugs, putting it on a tray with creamer and sugar before bringing it all to the coffee table in front of the couch. 

Minho and I take seats on the couch, separated by a bit of space between us while we sip on our respective mugs.

“So,” I start the conversation. “How’s home?” 

“Not too bad, same old same old, the guys being annoying as usual, you know?” He says.

“Sounds fun.” I chuckle. “And work, have you found anything yet?” 

“Not yet, I’ve got a few applications out, but I’m still waiting on some answers.”

“I’m sure you’ll get them soon.” I respond. 

An uncomfortable silence sets over the both of us, and I run my free hand through Luna’s fur who’s situated herself in my lap this time. I take a long sip of my coffee before asking another question.

“How’s… How are you and Ahra?” 

“Oh…” He trails off. “We broke up a few weeks ago.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that…” I had no idea that he and Ahra had broken up, in fact that was the completely opposite of what I thought had happened since they seemed to work together so well. 

“Yeah, it was a mutual thing. We didn’t really feel that kind of connection anymore, you know? So we just, broke it off.” 

“Are you okay?” I ask Minho.

“Me? Yeah, I’m actually not as affected as I thought I’d be, I don’t know if that makes me a cruel person or not but I was only sad for the first week or two. Nothing too bad.” 

“I see.” Another silence settles between us. This one is longer, more tense, there was something Minho wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure, and I couldn’t depict what question he was going to ask.

“Actually, I came her for a reason.” He says.

“And what reason is that?” I ask hesitantly.

“For answers.” My brows furrow, answers for what? “There’s something Hyunjin told me recently and it got me thinking, and I wanted to hear it from you if it was true.”  

I finish my coffee and place it down delicately on the coffee table, trying not to show how nervous I was with how badly my hands were shaking. “I’ll see if I have answers for you then.” 

“When you told me you were leaving, you said you had some, things, to figure out on your own. What was it that you had to figure out?” 

I take a moment to decide exactly how I was going to answer his question. Did I want to expose my feelings to him just yet? “Just, feelings.” I say vaguely.

“For?”

“Just feelings for somebody.”

“Is it Hyunjin?”

“No.”

“Chan?”

“Nope.”

“Changbin?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Me?”

I pause for just a half second, and apparently that was all Minho needed. “I guess Hyunjin’s big mouth was right after all.”

“Wait- What? What are you talking about?” 

Minho takes a long sip of his coffee before finishing letting out a sigh after swallowing, he slowly sets the mug on the table before making direct eye contact with me and silently killing me with the suspense. “Minho please just say something you’re killing me here.”

He only chuckles in response. “Hyunjin told me not too long ago that you took up the offer to work here because you were going to sort out your feelings, for me.” He says sweetly as I suck in a breath at his last words. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Minho-“

“Now now, Y/n, we shouldn’t hide things from each other anymore, should we?” His sweet, sultry voice was affecting me greatly as he leaned closer to me on the couch. I gulp and silently curse when Luna, the only thing keeping me sane, leaves the comfort of my lap for her scratch-post. 

“Minho…” I let out quietly.

“Tell me, Kitten, is it true?” He asks once again. 

“I-“ My voice catches in my throat when Minho leans in ever nearer, still making direct eye-contact with me. “Yes, it is.” I sigh out and Minho backs away. 

“He was right.” Minho whispers while my gaze drops to my hands that I fiddle with in my lap at the secret that’s let out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

“Why are you sorry darling?” He asks softly and uses his thumb and forefinger to tilt my head up by my chin. 

“I couldn’t tell you because I knew you didn’t feel the same, and then when you got together with Ahra we drifted apart because it hurt me to see you with her. Then I left and told you about me leaving so last minute. I made you cry, Minho, and I hate that I did. But I couldn’t see any other way out of it. I hurt you because I was cowardly and didn’t want to be selfish by telling you and having your attention move off of Ahra, when I was really being selfish by not telling you and hurting you in the end.” More tears escape my eyes as we look at each other.

“Princess, no…” He cups my face with his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “I’ll admit, it did hurt when you told me that you were leaving the day of, but I understood where you were coming from. Because you were right, I would have done something crazy to keep you by my side. Do you know why?” He asks, and I shake my head, still crying. “Because I need you by my side, kitten, even when I was dating Ahra I felt off but just didn’t pay any mind to it because I had her. But now I know it’s because you and I were drifting apart, I found out when after you left and me and Ahra broke up because I felt empty. I couldn’t text you to just come over anymore because you’re farther away from me now. I lied earlier, I said that I sent out some applications for jobs but didn’t get any answers yet, right?” I nod. “I got offered a job as a software engineer, here, in Itaewon, and I said yes.” 

“Why?” I whisper.

“Because I want to be near you, I need to be by your side Y/n, because I love you.” I let out a sob at his confession and he coos, bringing me to rest my head on his chest and rubbing his hands on my back and running them through my hair. 

“I love you too.” I say after a few minutes. 

Minho brings me out of his hold, and cups my face again. For the first time, he kisses me. His lips brush over mine before deepening the kiss, taking full charge of it yet somehow still being soft with me. His kisses were nothing short of addicting, and I knew I’d be in love with him for a long time. 

In that moment, kissing the man of my dreams, I remember that it may be rare that a second lead gets their own happy ending, but it’s not unheard of. Sometimes the main lead and second lead do end up with their own happily ever after. 

Notes from the author: I have FINALLY posted something y’all 😂 took a few months but she’s here, and she’s dishing out something at least. I don’t know how often I’ll be posting again, esp with school and whatnot, but I do know I need to drain out my drafts because phew, it’s getting a little full in there. 

But anyways, I hope you enjoyed this fic! I’m pretty sure it’s one of the longest I’ve written if not the longest. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad, I’m probably a little rusty but we can fix that (i think)

if you want more I still have my old stuff up on my masterlist on my account! hope to see you around :))

-nyx

[cocochannel00]

Things that Husband!Harry would definitely do (a thread)

(If you don’t think that Tiny Desk Harry doesn’t give off mad husband!harry vibes - he looks so fluffy- then we can’t be friends)

- He’d sneak into your room the night before the wedding because he missed you even though he knows its bad luck and when you’re mad at him for it he would just smile and place a kiss on your forehead and say “I don’t need any luck, I just need you”

- At your wedding reception he would walk around the room introducing you to everyone as “my wife” as if they didn’t already know who you were 

- During your wedding dinner he’d spend the whole night whispering dirty jokes in your ear trying to make you laugh because he knew that even though it was your wedding day you were still spooked by all of the attention

- On your first year anniversary Harry wanted to surprise you by making you breakfast in bed so he started making pancakes as you slept. You woke up to the sound of your fire alarm going off and Harry blowing the smoke off a pan with a pillow. He’d give you a sheepish smile before mumbling a “maybe we get takeout this year?”

- During the holidays he’d hang mistletoe all around your house and force you to kiss him at every one. “Look love it’s mistletoe, you know what that means” he’d state with a grin. “Harry I just kissed you literally 2 minutes ago in the other room” you’d grumble “Doesn’t matter love, it’s mistletoe and those are the rules. Now come here and kiss your husband”

- Anytime the two of you would get into any sort of major fight where you would say “I hate you” he would shoot back “Well I love you so I guess you’re stuck with me” before going to sulk on the couch

- Whenever you went to his shows or stayed with him on tour he would force you to sit back stage and watch him from the wings so he could watch your reaction to his corny jokes and steal a kiss from you in between sets and on his bathroom breaks

- You agreed to be the designated drive for your group for a night out so Harry gets drunk and becomes extra clingy. He spends the entire night stuck to your side, shoving his face in your neck whispering “I’m going to marry you one day” to which you’d remind him quietly that you were already married. He’d then nod thoughtfully and mumbled “Well then I’m going to marry you again just in case” 

- One night you would be tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep and you would accidentally wake up Harry. You’d apologies because you knew he had to wake up early the next day, but he would just shush you with a quick peck before repositioning you so that you could lay your head on his chest. He’d then softly start humming the tune to one of the new songs he was working on until you’d fall asleep

- Harry would convince you that he was capable of building the Ikea coat rack the two of you had bought for your new home on his own so you’d go into the room next door to take a nap. When you woke up and hour later you found him laying on the floor facetiming Mitch as he tried to figure out why the last piece wasn’t fitting properly only for you to look at it and realize he had built half of it backwards

- Harry would come home late from one his movie shoots and would mumble a quick hello as he walked in through the door. You’d be sitting on the couch watching and episode of Dateline and he would throw himself next to you and lay his head on your lap. You’d start running your hands through his hair as you finished watching the last couple of minutes of the episode before asking Harry how his day was only to realize he had passed out on your lap and was now quietly snoring, a small trail of drool slowly coming out of his mouth

- The next season of your favorite show Handmaid’s Tale had come out so you and Harry started watching it. Every five minutes Harry would ask you a question about the show until mid way through you looked at him and bursted out “Harry if you ask me one more question about the show I’m sending you to our room”. Harry would pout at you and sink into the couch, grumbling about how it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember what happened last season before he shoved some popcorn into his mouth

- You’d need to go shopping at Target one day to get some decorations for your niece's birthday party and Harry would decide to come along. “This is our list Harry, we’re not buying anything that’s not on the list” you’d say in the car before getting out, but it would be hopeless because every other aisle Harry would pick something up and say “babe we need to get this” and you would stare at him and say “is it on the list?” and he would grumble a no before sulking back down the aisle to put it back

- On road trips when he let you pick the music he would grumble when you would change the song every 30 seconds. “Love just choose a song, it’s not that difficult, gave you the bloody playlist” he’d state as you would continue to skip through the songs mumbling “I’m tired of that song though, just wanted to hear the chorus”. “Is that what you do with my songs too, just skip all the good parts to get to the bloody chorus?” he’d ask mockingly as you gave him a sheepish smile and mumbled a “sometimes” before finally picking a song

- It would be nearly 4 am and you would still be awake reading your book in bed as Harry slept soundly next to you. You could feel the tears running down your face as the main character just had their heartbroken and a soft sniffle left your nose which caused Harry to startle awake. “Babe what time is it?” he’d mumble as you continue reading, paying him no mind. He’d turn on his phone and groan as he saw the 4 flash at him before turning to see the tears on your face. “Oh no love did she get her heartbroken again? Sure they’ll get back together by the end” he’d state, knowing this was your third rom-com book of the month. You’d mumble a yes as Harry gently dog eared the page before you could protest. He turned off your lamp before tucking you into his side, pulling the covers up to your chin, letting you crying into his chest over your fictional characters

- You and Harry going to your 15th high school reunion together and he gets jealous when he sees you talking to your ex-boyfriend from when you were 16. He’d come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist while placing a kiss to the side of your temple before reaching out his free hand to introduce himself. “Hello I’m Harry. The Husband” he’d say as he shook your ex’s hand just a little tighter then necessary

- Harry would be overly invested in your work place gossip so when the two of you would have dinner together he would constantly ask questions about what happened with your coworkers that day. “So did Stacy and Justin get caught yet or does Janet still have no idea? Did Kathleen ever get that promotion? If I ever see Garrett I’m going to punch him”

-  He’d force you to wake up early with him so the two of you could workout together in your home gym, but you’d just sit on the floor against the mirror in your workout clothes staring at him. After several attempts at trying to get you to stretch with him he’d give up and say “If you’re not gonna workout at least give me some motivation babe” so he’d do his abs workout in front of you and every time he came up from a sit-up you’d give him a kiss

- Harry would come down with a cold and he would turn into a 5 year old boy and try to milk it for everything it’s worth. “Think the doctor mentioned that cuddles would really help with my headache, love.” “Harry I don’t think that’s what the doctor said” you’d reply as you placed a cold wash cloth on his forehead. “Don’t think I would have forgotten such an important order from her. Now, come here I want to cuddle my wife” 

- He’d come home from the studio fidgeting with his beat-up blue iPod in his hand as you were finishing up a quick dinner for the two of you. He would gently place the iPod on the counter next to you as he poured himself a drink to calm his nerves. You’d stare at it for a minute before asking “Is it finished? Can I listen?”. He’d nod before you gave him a quick kiss and took the device to the living room, leaving him there with his thoughts. An hour later you came back into the kitchen, tears streaming down your face as you ran up to hug him. “Liked it?” he’d ask nervously, this being the first time you’d heard the finished album. “Absolutely loved it” you’d whisper back causing Harry to release a deep breath before taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly

- He’d start every award acceptance speech with “I’d like to first thank my wife for always supporting me” and then try to catch your eye in the crowd, giving you a soft smile that was only meant for you before going on to thank everyone else

- “We need an intervention Harry. Why are your suits in my side of the closet?” you asked as you came down stairs with one of Harry’s Gucci suits. “I was running out of space and I didn’t think you would notice” he replied with a blush. “Well I did so either you move them or I’m throwing them out” “Love but they’re Gucci you can’t just-” “Ah ah ah I don’t care. My side of the closet” you’d state before dropping the suit in his lap and walking back upstairs

So many others come to mind but these are just a couple that came to mind. I’ll probably do a Dad!Harry version at some point as well 

[brawltogethernow]

So, I don't think I've ever asked you this... what IS the whole point of the Spider-Sense? It really seems like something that only exists for writers to ignore or work around when they want to inject Legit Tension into a story.

I’ve thought about this power so much, but never with an eye to defend its right to exist, so I needed to think about this. The results could be more concise.

Ironically, given the question, I have to say its main purpose is to ramp up tension. But it’s also a highly variable multitool that a skilled creative team can use for...pretty much anything. It does everything the writer wants it to, while for its wielder always falls just short of doing enough.

I went looking through my photos for a really generic, classic-looking example to use as an image to head this topic, but then I ran into the time Peter absolutely did not reimburse this man for his stolen McDonald’s, so have that instead.

A Scare Chord, But You Can Draw It

That one post that says the spider-sense is just super-anxiety isn’t, like, wrong. It’s a very anxious, dramatic storytelling tool originally designed for a very anxious, dramatic protagonist. I find it speaks to the overall tone of the franchise that some characters are functionally psychics, but with a psychic ability that only points out problems.

Spidey sense pinging? There’s danger, be stressed! Broken? Now the lead won’t even KNOW when there’s a problem, scary! Single character is immune to it? That’s an invisible knife in the dark oh my god what the fuck what the fU--

Like its counterpart in garden variety anxiety, the only time the spider-sense reduces tension is in the middle of a crisis. But in the wish fulfillmenty way that you want in an adventure story to justify exaggerated action sequences, the same way enhanced strength or durability does. Also like those, it would theoretically make someone much safer to have it, but it exists in the story to let your character navigate into and weather more dangerous situations.

For its basic role in a story, a danger sense is a snappy way to rile up both the reader and the protagonist that doesn’t offer much information beyond that it’s time to sit smart because shit is about to go down.

Spidey comic canon is all over the board in quality and genre, and it started needing to subvert its formulas before the creators got a handle on what those formulas even were, and basically no one has read anything approaching most of it at this point, so for consistent examples of a really bare bones use of this power in storytelling, I’d point to the property that’s done the best job yet of boiling down the mechanics of Spider-Man to their absolute most basic essentials for adaptation to a compelling monster of the week TV series.

Or as you probably know it, Danny Phantom. DON’T BOO, I’M RIGHT.

DP is Spider-Man with about 2/3 of the serial numbers filed off and no death (ironically), and Danny’s ghost sense is the most proof in the formula example of what the spidey sense is for: It’s a big sign held up for the viewer that says, “Something is wrong! Pay attention!” Effectively a visual scare chord. It’s about That Drama. And it works, which won it a consistent place in the show’s formula. We’re talking several times an episode here.

So why does it work?

It’s a little counterintuitive, but it’s strong storytelling to tell your audience that something bad is going to happen before it does. A vague, punchy spoiler transforms the ignorant calm before a conflict into a tense moment of anticipation. ...And it makes sure people don’t fail to absorb the beginning of said conflict because they weren’t prepared to shift gears when the scene did. Shock is a valuable tool, too, but treating it like a staple is how you burn out your audience instead of keeping them engaged. Not to go after an easy target, but you need to know how to manage your audience’s alarm if you don’t want to end up like Game of Thrones.

The limits of the spider-sense also keep you on your toes when handled by a smart writer. It tells Peter (everyone’s is a little different, so I’m going to cite the og) about threats to his person, but it doesn’t elaborate with any details when it’s not already obvious why, what kind, and from what. And it doesn’t warn him about anything else-- Which is a pretty critical gap when you zoom out and look at his hero career’s successes and failures and conclude that it’s definitely why he’s lived as long as he has acting the way he does, but was useless as he failed to save a string of people he’d have much rather had live on than him.

(Any long-running superhero mythos has these incidents, but with Peter they’re important to the core themes.)

And since this power is by plot for plot (or because it’s roughly agreed it only really blares about threats that check at least two boxes of being major, immediate, or physical), it always kicks in enough to register when the danger is bearing down...when it’s too late to actually do anything about it if “anything” is a more complex action than “dodge”.

Really? Not until the elevator doors started to open?

That Distinctive, Crunchy Spider Flavor

The spider-sense and its little pen squiggles go hand in hand with wallcrawling (and its unique and instantly identifiable associated body language) to make the Spider-Person powerset enduringly iconic and elevate characters with it from being generic mid-level super-bricks. Visually, but also in how it shapes the story.

I said it can share a narrative role with super strength. But when you end a fight and go home, super strength continues to make your character feel powerful, probably safer than they’d be otherwise, maybe dangerous.

The spider-sense just keeps blaring, “Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong! God, why aren’t you doing something about this!?”

Pretty morose thing to live with, for a safety net! Kind of a double edged sword you have there! Could be constantly being hyperattuned to problems would prime you for a negative outlook on life. Kind of seems like a power that would make it impossible for a moral person to take a day off, leading them into a beleaguered and resentful yet dutiful attitude about the whole superhero gig! Might build up to some of the core traits of this mythos, maybe! Might lead to a lot of fifteen minute retirement stories, or something. Might even be a built in ‘great responsibility’ alarm that gets you a main character who as a rule is not going to stop fighting until he physically cannot fight anymore.

Certainly not apropos of anything, just throwing this short lived barely-a-joke tagline up for fun.

One of my personal favorite things about stories with superpowers is keeping in mind how they cause the people who have them to act in unusual ways outside of fights, so when you tell me that these people have an entire extra sense that tells them when the gas in their house is leaking through a barely useful hot/cold warning system that never turns off, I’m like, eyes emojis, popcorn out, notebook open, listening intently, spectacles on, the whole deal.

It also contributes to Peter Parker’s personality in a way I really enjoy: It allows him to act like an irrational maniac. When you know exactly when a situation becomes dangerous and how much, normal levels of caution go out the window and absolutely nothing you do makes sense from an exterior standpoint anymore. That’s the good shit. I would like to see more exploration of how the non-Parker characters experiencing the world in this incredibly altered way bounce in response.

It’s also one of many tools in this franchise hauling the reader into relating more closely with the main character. The backbone of classic Spidey is probably being in on secrets only Peter and the reader know which completely reframe how one views the situation on the page. It’s just a big irony mine for the whole first decade. A convenient way to inform the reader and the lead that something is bad news that’s not perceivable to any other characters is youth-with-a-big-exciting-secret catnip.

Another point for tension, there, in that being aware of danger is not synonymous with being able to act on it. If there’s no visible reason for you to be acting strange, well...you’re just going to have to sit tight and sweat, aren’t you? Some gratuitous head wiggles never hurt when setting up that type of conflict.

Have I mentioned that they look cool? Simultaneously punchy and distinctive, with a respectable amount of leeway for artists to get creative with and still coming up with something easily recognizable? And pretty easy to intuit the meaning of even without the long-winded explanations common in the days when people wrote comics with the intent that someone could come in cold on any random issue and follow along okay, I think, although the mechanic has been deeply ingrained in popular culture for so long that I can’t really say for sure.

It was also useful back in the day when no artists drew the eyes on the Spider-Man mask as emoting and were conveying the lead’s expressions entirely through body language and panel composition. If you wiggle enough squiggles, you don’t need eyebrows.

Take This Handwave and Never Ask Me a Logistical Question Again

This ability patches plot holes faster than people can pick them open AND it can act as an excuse to get any plot rolling you can think of if paired with one meddling protagonist who doesn’t know how to mind their own business. Buy it now for only $19.99 (in four installments; that’s four installments of $19.99).

Why can a teenager win a six on one fight against other superhumans? Well, the spider-sense is the ultimate edge in combat, duh.

Why can Peter websling? Why doesn’t everyone websling? Well, the spider-sense is keeping him from eating flagpole when he violently flings himself across New York in a way neither man nor spider was ever meant to move.

How are we supposed to get him involved with the plot this week???? Well, that crate FELT dangerous, so he’s going to investigate it. Oh, dip, it was full of guns and radioactive snakes! Probably shouldn’t have opened that!

Yeah, okay, but why isn’t it fixing everything, then? Isn’t it supposed to be why Peter has never accidentally unmasked in front of somebody? ('Nother entry for this section, take a shot.) That’s crazy sensitive! How does he still have any problems!? Is everything bad that’s ever happened to characters with this powerset bad writing!? --Listen, I think as people with uncanny senses that can tell us whether we are in danger with accuracy that varies from incredible to approximate (I am talking about the five senses that most people have), we should all know better than to underestimate our ability to tune them out or interpret them wrong and fuck ourselves up anyway. I honestly find this part completely realistic.

*SLAPS ROOF OF SPIDER-SENSE* YOU CAN FIT SO MANY STORIES IN THIS THING

The spider-sense is a clean branch into...whatever. There is the exact right balance of structure and wishy-washiness to build off of. A sample selection of whatevers that have been built:

It’s sci-fi and spy gadgets when Peter builds technology that can interface with it.

It’s quasi-mystical when Kaine and Annie-May get stronger versions of it that give them literal psychic visions, or when you want to get mythological and start talking about all the spider-characters being part of a grand web of fate.

Kaine loses his and it becomes symbolic of a future newly unbound by constraints, entangled thematically with the improved physical health he picked up at the same time -- a loss presented as a gain.

Peter loses his and almost dies 782 times in one afternoon because that didn’t make the people he provoked when he had it stop trying to kill him, and also because he isn’t about to start “””taking the subway’’””’ “‘’“”to work”””’’” like some kind of loser who doesn’t get a heads up when he’s about to hit a pigeon at 50mph.

Peter’s starts tuning into his wife’s anxiety and it’s a tool in a relationship study.

It starts pinging whenever Peter’s near his boss who’s secretly been replaced by a shapeshifter and he IGNORES IT because his boss is enough of an asshole that that doesn’t strike him as weird; now it’s a comedy/irony tool.

Into the Spider-Verse made it this beautiful poetic thing connecting all the spider-heroes in the multiverse and stacked up a story on it about instant connection, loss, and incredibly unlikely strangers becoming a found family. It was also aesthetic as FUCK. Remember the scene where Miles just hears barely intelligible whispering that’s all lines people say later in the film and then his own voice very clearly says “look out” and then the room explodes?? Fuck!!!!

Venom becomes immune to it after hitchhiking to Earth in Peter’s bone juice and it makes him a unique threat while telling a more-homoerotic-than-I-assume-was-originally-intended story about violation and how close relationships can be dangerous when they go sour.

It doesn’t work on people you trust for maximum soap opera energy. Love the innate tragedy of this feature coming up.

IN CONCLUSION I don’t have much patience for writers who don’t take advantage of it, never mind feel they need to write around it.

[julemmaes]

98.“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.” for nessian???😅😅😅😅

Third And Fourth Wheeling - October 16th

Nesta Archeron x Cassian

A/N: I AM. ASHAMED. OF MYSELF. I KNOW IT’S LITERALLY THREE MONTHS LATE BUT I HOPE YOU’LL LIKE IT ANYWAY

Masterlist

Word count: 2,312

Nesta would have rather done anything else at that moment than have to walk even for one more second through the streets of Velaris with her best friend, her boyfriend, and Cassian Navarro. Not because the company was bad, but the last chapter of the book she was reading had ended with an unexpected event, and she needed to know if the main character would be able to save herself somehow.

When Amren had suggested going out that afternoon, she hadn't realized that the last person Nesta wanted to see would be there, and by the time she'd arrived at the meeting point and seen him with his back turned in the distance, it had been too late to turn around and go home, because Varian had greeted her with a curt wave of his hand and he'd turned around. And Nesta had felt as if she were floating for a moment.

It was no secret that Cassian had been genuinely interested in her - with all the times he'd flirted with her at every party they'd met at, it was quite impossible to ignore that detail - but Nesta was sure she'd never hinted at her true feelings for the man in question. Or at least, she had been until Amren had given her a not-so-sneaky wink, seeing how she'd blushed when she'd stopped next to Cassian and ogled her with inquisitive eyes.

They'd started walking along the Sidra, stopping at a small cafe with a gorgeous view of the river mouth, only to resume walking after not even an hour. The only thing she could be thankful for was the spectacular winter sunset the city offered them.

"Are you having fun?" asked Cassian suddenly, distracting her from admiring the falling sun.

Nesta slowly turned to face him, clenching her hands into fists in her pockets. She blinked a few times, not sure if she heard him correctly, "Hmm?"

"Are you having fun?" he asked her again, a sly smile on his lips.

Lips that Nesta should have stopped staring at. She glanced up at his eyes and noticed that they sparkled with mirth. She shrugged, returning her attention to the sidewalk, "I'd rather be home on my couch reading a book." she murmured without hiding her boredom. Varian burst out laughing a few feet ahead of them as Amren chuckled beside him at something the latter had said, and Nesta wondered again why her friend had invited them if she wasn't going to consider them at all.

"I guessed as much." Cassian gave a nervous chuckle and scratched his chin thoughtlessly, "When Amren suggested we meet for a double date I didn't think she meant with you." he said in a more cautious tone, "Not that I mind."

A sound much like that of a cat choking made its way out of her, "It's not a double date. We're just third and fourth wheeling." joked Nesta, chuckling at the idiocy he had just said.

Cassian looked at her wide-eyed and then burst out laughing, throwing his head back, and Nesta thought it was an overreaction to what she'd said, "And here I thought I was going actually taking you home after dinner."

Nesta wrinkled her brow, looking at him with a horrified expression, "Pig."

"I was only kiddin'," he said, still with that stupid grin on his face.

She nodded once, reducing her lips to a thin line, "Sure." she whispered, probably in a more detached tone than she intended.

He seemed to stiffen beside her, and Nesta risked a glance in his direction. The frown on her face deepened even more as she saw his expression. He looked almost tense, like when you're in high school and you don't know if the teacher is going to say your name for the exam.

She shook her head, flashing her eyes back to the snowy mountains, thinking it was just her imagination.

Yes, it couldn't be otherwise.

Cassian couldn't be under any pressure just because she hadn't fallen for his temptation and responded to his flirting like she always did. Her doubts were soothed when he sagged down beside her and returned to his relaxed demeanor.

Still, as she strolled through the snowy streets of Velaris and cursed all the saints and gods of that world for not making her turn down Amren's invitation, she couldn't help but think that she wasn't uncomfortable next to him. That even though their arms touched every time they passed someone walking in their opposite direction she didn't mind being there with him. She didn't mind him wrapping his arm around her shoulders when passersby had no intention of moving and risking coming at her, and he would remove her from their paths before they bumped into her.

She hadn't even minded that he'd offered to pay for her tea, though she knew she'd have to find a way to pay him back. Or that he'd offered her his gloves when she hadn't been able to hide the fact that her hands were turning purple from the freezing weather.

She also liked that he didn't feel the need to fill that silence that had fallen between them, but rather seemed to appreciate it as much as she did.

One thing she'd noticed during the few outings she'd been invited to was that people seemed to dislike silence that was considered awkward, always trying to cover up every second of time by saying polite phrases or giving far too much personal information - things that Nesta could stand to accept from her sisters and closest friends, not from strangers she'd known for a few days or in some cases a few hours.

Cassian seemed to think exactly as she did, however, because he hadn't said a word since she'd contradicted him, and although he always had that confused, thoughtful expression on his face, he didn't seem inclined to start another conversation.

***

Cassian often wondered how people managed to stay silent when they were doing boring, simple tasks as walking. He felt the need to speak, the words tickling his tongue like they never had before so they could go out and tease her some more, just one more time, to see how far he could push it.

Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful and mesmerizing woman Cassian had ever had the honor of meeting, of that he had no doubt, but she certainly wasn't committed to making his job any easier.

The first time he had seen her, he had been shocked by the sharp, elegant, serious features of what he did not yet know would become the woman of his dreams for the next ten months. The eyes of that peculiar gray, a color he had never seen in anybody else, that he had learned to appreciate in the blink of an eye. The dark hair she'd always worn tied back and never styled the same way... Cassian had dreamed of touching it so many times, of putting his lips to it, of holding it between his fingers as he held her.

And the first time he'd seen her with her hair down, that had been the day he'd realized there would be no other in his life. The way it had wrapped around Nesta's face, the way it fell over her shoulders and framed that perfect breasts.

But Cassian hadn't been lost just by the appearance of that ethereal being, no, that would have been foolish. That mouth had spoken words that the man wouldn't have been able to think of even in his wildest dreams. They had made him kneel, fall before that queen he would serve without the shadow of uncertainty.

Yet when he had gathered enough courage to speak to her, she had done nothing but look at him, arch an eyebrow, and walk away.

The dismissal a blow so hard to the man's pride that it had taken him seconds before he realized that she was actually gone. It had hit him deep, hurting him in ways he didn't think he could be hurt, and he certainly hadn't expected that such a beautiful body could also contain such indifference. God how wrong he had been.

He hadn't tried to make a move on Nesta again, respecting what was clearly a rejection, but his hopes had been revived, stronger than before, when Feyre had mentioned to him that Nesta had asked about him. Several times.

With the memory of that hopeful emotion stirring in him, he uttered the words before he could stop himself, "And what if I asked you out on a real date?"

Nesta's head snapped up, toward him, and she seemed to stumble over her steps. Her eyes went wide for a moment as surprise laced her every feature. That hope was about to turn into fulfillment in him, but then she blinked, composing herself, and turned back to Amren and Varian, looking at their intertwined hands, "I'd tell you I'm not interested."

Cassian felt the disappointment and embarrassment of being rejected for a second time make its way inside of him, as his cheeks turned a light red. He only hoped she didn't notice, that she thought he was just cold.

"I see," he murmured. He put his hands in his pockets, squeezing into his shoulders.

He saw Nesta watching him out of the corner of her eyes and turned to her, giving her a tight smile, wanting to reassure her that it was okay. When she realized he was looking at her she parted her lips, but closed them the next second and Cassian sighed, forming a cloud of mist in front of him.

Then Nesta surprised him, "It's not you." she murmured so quietly that for a moment he thought he'd imagined it, "I just don't date people I don't know."

Cassian was confused, "I don't understand."

Nesta took a shaky breath, keeping her eyes fixed in front of her, "I don't date people who aren't my friends."

Those words didn't help quell the confusion inside of him, but rather only added to the disappointment the pain of being told so directly that Nesta didn't consider him her friend.

He decided to gloss over that mitigating pain in his chest, "So how do you meet new people to date?"

Nesta bit her lower lip, the muscle in her cheekbone twitching, "I don't." she said even more softly. "I don't like to make the people I'm going out with think that they should expect something from me at the end of the night and so before I know if I want something from them or if I want to give them something, I have to get to know them. I can't bond - romantically speaking - with someone, if I don't know them."

Cassian nodded, with a furrowed brow. It was obviously the opposite for him considering how madly lost to Nesta he was even without knowing hardly anything about her.

Then, an idea began to form in his head, "What if instead of going out as two people who want a relationship, I invite you out as someone who wants to be your friend?" he asked, straightening his back so as not to bounce with glee.

"Cassian-"

"Please, Nes." the nickname was out hanging between them before he could stop and before she could answer him, he said, "I wouldn't expect anything at the end of the night even if it was an actual date, like no one else should," he took a short breath, "Just a simple day out between two strangers who need to get to know each other to become friends."

Nesta was looking at him now, no emotion showing on that beautiful impassive face, "You'd still take me to a nice restaurant and I'd know it would be a date for you, even if you say so."

Cassian ran a hand through his hair and didn't fail to notice the way Nesta swallowed as she stared at the gesture. He smiled, trying not to give away how much her minimal attention made him feel, "Not even if I took you to one of the most beautiful bookstores in the country?"

Her eyes locked on his for the first time all evening and Cassian noticed that the left one had a darker streak of color in the middle of the gray, "Tell me more." she said, when a shiver rippled through her body.

He had to restrain himself from offering her the jacket. She would surely turn him down and then accuse him of shamelessly hitting on her and he'd dig his own grave even deeper, so, fighting every fiber of his being that screamed at him to hold her close to keep her warm, he said, "It's in a town near here. It's only a two-hour drive." he saw the hesitation in her at the prospect of having to spend all that time together with him cooped up in a car and added, "You can choose the music."

"You read?"

Cassian felt something blossom in his chest. She wasn't saying no.

He nodded, suppressing a smile, "Not as often as I'd like, but yes, I do read."

Nesta hummed something, "And what do you read?"

He didn't understand where this was going, but he was glad it wasn't him who was asking all those questions. Maybe she had agreed to his request and he hadn't even noticed and she was already starting to try to get to know him.

"Mainly historical novels." he replied hesitantly, afraid of her reaction.

The silence that followed lasted eons in Cassian's mind, but when she looked at him, he thought he would be silent for the rest of his life if it assured him that view every day.

Nesta smiled at him and he felt the air leave his lungs when she said, "Alright."

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[fuwahiko]

Ok more fluff coming your way because i throw it all on Hajime mans needs a break. Imagine a Non-Despair au where Izuru is a real person and Hajime's twin, they go to Hope's Peak. Izuru in the Main Course and Hajime in the Reserve Course.

Class 77 plan a get-together outside of school because they wanted to...and Chisa said to get together outside of school. Izuru is...not feeling social so he decides to bring Hajime along. He didn't tell anyone he was bringing his brother, but they'll learn when he shows up.

So fast forward to The Hang Out, and all of class 77 are waiting for Izuru. They're not surprised because Izuru is Izuru and he does not like socializing. They're all chatting and laughing at TeruTeru getting his ass chewed out by Mahiru when Izuru comes in and...he's hanging off of someone with short choppy hair and green eyes? Whomst? Izuru doesn't have friends outside of them who beith this man?

"Izuru what the hell, you forgot to tell them about me?!" "...oh, it seems so. Sorry Haji."

So Izuru introduces his brother because he FORGOT to tell his class about Hajime. Everyone's nice to him, even Nagito because he's got a hope boner for Izuru Kamukura aka Ultimate Hope man.

Fuyuhiko goes up and says "hi" because if Peko can try to socialize, so can he. Hajime smiles and says hi back, and that's that. Fuyuhiko goes back to his antisocial wall, and Hajine goes back to being Izuru's emotional support pillar. Literally.

But they're both flushed. Fuyuhiko's eyebrows are furrowed and Hajime's biting his lips. They steal glances at each other when the other isn't looking. Fuyuhiko and Hajime are both thinking, "Oh no cute boy."

And LET THE MUTUAL PINING, TSUNDERE ACTIONS, AND CLASS 77 SHENANIGANS COMMENCE. With wingwoman Peko, insgigator Natsumi on both sides, and Izuru being the overprotective brother that he is.

yessss pining boys!! without having like... the reasons they had in the game to talk to each other, how does one approach a cute boy (tm)? when both you and the cute boy (tm) are so awkward and have such difficulty getting chatting, what do you do?

imagining Peko as a wingwoman is really cute and kinda amusing too because she’s y’know, sort of awkward too and sometimes struggles to keep conversations going and stuff so I imagine there’d probably be some moments where Peko is trying her best to help Fuyuhiko by starting a conversation with Hajime so she can bring Fuyuhiko into it as well but maybe it’s a sort of unusual topic or she doesn’t really give Hajime much to work with so it kinda flops at first and Fuyuhiko’s concerned that it’s not gonna go anywhere, but then Peko ends up saying something that Hajime finds funny (even though there’s a 95% chance that Peko wasn’t intending to be funny) and that allows for the conversation to open up more and become a lot easier.

Hajime and Fuyuhiko end up keeping the conversation going for a few minutes, but they’re both still pretty flustered and they keep getting overwhelmed and distracted (cute boy!! omg!!) so they end up struggling and the conversation dies out again. just then Izuru spots them and comes over again to butt in and latch onto Hajime and Fuyuhiko uses it as an opportunity to head off and escape the awkwardness. Hajime gets irritated with Izuru for scaring Fuyuhiko off but is also honestly a little relieved because he wouldn’t have wanted to make things even more awkward by just letting the silence between them carry on for who knows how long.

the get together ends without them getting the chance to talk any more than that, but even so they both find that they just can’t stop thinking about each other in the days that follow. it’s been several days already but Fuyuhiko still gets distracted in class thinking about how cute Hajime’s big bright smile was and the sound of his laugh, how soft his hair looked, how big his arms were compared to his own. Hajime finds himself sitting on his bed and hugging his pillow to his chest as he thinks about Fuyuhiko’s pretty eyes, his cute freckles, and how surprisingly friendly and sweet he’d been in contrast to his intimidating aura (which Hajime also found very attractive, of course). there’s a lot of covering cheeks with hands, lowering heads to hide soft expressions and a hell of a lot of times where somebody is trying to get Hajime’s or Fuyuhiko’s attention but they might as well be talking to a brick wall because they’re both so distracted by their thoughts that they’re completely lost to the world.

Natsumi notices all of this from both of them and finds it hilarious (and pretty adorable, she has to admit) and even though she does think Hajime is sort of lame she knows her brother is genuinely really into him and... well, he’s not that bad, right? yeah, okay, he’s actually pretty alright... so why not give them both a little shove in the right direction?

problem is, they’re both completely useless.

she makes several attempts at trying to encourage them to do something about all these god damn butterflies and fluffy pink hearts that are practically radiating from them both, but nothing works. she gives up. a few more days pass and... nothing changes. they’re both so god damn annoying. Hajime lets out his 200th dreamy sigh in class (which is a lot less discreet than Hajime thinks it is) and Natsumi almost loses it. she has to do something about this.

the next day she asks Hajime to meet her in a quiet spot just outside of school when classes are over, she tells him she wants to talk about something. Hajime doesn’t really get what the deal is but he figures he’ll just go along with it rather than questioning her and making a fuss.

after school he goes to wait in the spot (Natsumi says she needs to do something else quickly first and tells Hajime to go ahead) but when he gets there... he sees Fuyuhiko is there waiting for him?!

Hajime stops dead in his tracks, freezing up and struggling to even breathe properly, and when Fuyuhiko looks up and realises Hajime is there he tenses up and balls his hands into fists at his sides. they stare at each other for a moment, their cheeks burning up as they process the situation, and then as soon as Fuyuhiko is able to kick his brain into gear again he realises exactly what is going on. he scrunches his face up, still bright red, though Hajime doesn’t notice yet. “god damn it, Natsumi!” his voice is loud, making Hajime jump a little, but it’s also sort of shaky.

“oh uh- I was supposed to meet her here- I-”

Fuyuhiko sighs. “yeah, me too. she did this on purpose. she was trying to get both of us here because she knows that-” he cut himself off, suddenly realising what he was about to say. out loud. to Hajime.

“huh? knows that what?” Hajime couldn’t figure out what Natsumi could possibly want from this that Fuyuhiko would know of. the only reason he could imagine was because she knew about his crush on Fuyuhiko and probably wanted to play some kind of prank, but that couldn’t be it because how would Fuyuhiko know why she’d called him there?

it was then that Hajime noticed that Fuyuhiko was turning away and avoiding eye contact. wait... is he blushing? what would cause him to blush in a situation like this? hang on a second...

slowly Hajime started to piece the situation together... but he must be imagining things, right? there has to be some other explanation. but he couldn’t help but cling onto that little thought, that maybe Fuyuhiko was also interested, even if it was silly to ever think that that could be the case. he wanted to test his theory out without giving himself away, and in the moment the best he could manage was some awkward joke. of course.

“hey... isn’t this kinda like when two characters in a romance anime meet up outside of school to confess or something?”

Fuyuhiko has a small coughing fit. he recovers after a moment and adjusts his tie, finally looking back at Hajime again. “huh?!”

Hajime panics and nervously searches for somewhere else to look so he doesn’t have to meet Fuyuhiko’s intense eyes. “n-nothing! I was just joking around! I uh- I thought it’d uh-” he feels like his cheeks are about to catch fire. he wants to run away but his legs won’t move an inch.

Fuyuhiko lets out a breathy laugh. “you’re so weird.”

Hajime looks up again and is surprised to see Fuyuhiko’s expression is much softer than expected, and though he keeps glancing up at Hajime he’s also struggling and looking around awkwardly as well. suddenly Hajime catches a look in Fuyuhiko’s eyes and they find themselves staring at each other for a moment. Hajime sees that he really wasn’t imagining it; Fuyuhiko’s face is very red right now. he realises that Fuyuhiko has noticed that his face is also red. he must have done. there’s no way he could possibly miss it. oh god.

there’s a long pause.

Fuyuhiko swallows and takes a moment to clear his throat.

“well anyway, since we’re here, do you want to... hang out sometime?”

Hajime’s eyes widen in surprise. he isn’t even able to process the question before Fuyuhiko continues speaking.

“I just mean because you’re my sister’s classmate n’ all I figure we should try to get along and-”

“y-yeah, sure. uh, I’d like that actually.” Hajime doesn’t realise he’s cut Fuyuhiko off until he’s already spoken.

there’s another pause, and then maybe a couple more minutes of them arranging a time and place to meet up in a few days while trying not to lose it and just turn to a big pile of mush out of embarrassment, and then they awkwardly part ways.

as Hajime turns to leave he thinks he hears something rustling in a bush nearby but figures it must be his imagination so he just ignores it and continues on his way.

Natsumi heads back home, a couple of small leaves stuck in her hair, giggling to herself. today would go down as one of the greatest successes of the ultimate little sister.

[homeformyheart]

hey~

hope you are having an amazing week!

how would you feel about doing a noah harris x mc request from the best vs worst prompts?

maybe 21. best day at school vs worst day at school OR 27. best game vs worst game?

hi anon! thank you for the request, #27 was fitting and allowed me to close-out the chapter of my noah x mc arc (a little bit got cut out from my outline, but at least now it's finished).

author’s note: when I got this prompt, I decided to take the outline I had written for a continuation of my other MTFL fics and retro-fit it here, which is why it’s a bit longer than typical prompt fills. this finally gave me the motivation to continue the relationship I started in “first choice” and “the perfect gift.” I also drew some real-life inspiration from patrick mahomes of the kansas city chiefs (national football league in the u.s.). enjoy!

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma price) rating/warnings: 13+; none based on/prompt: best vs. worst / 27. best game vs. worst game; also inspired by the song “never really over” by katy perry word count: 1.7k summary: two years after graduating college and agreeing to go their separate ways, the universe seems to want emma and noah back together.

best game vs. worst game

worst game

emma tapped her finger on her thigh nervously as she waited in her boss’s office for her first assignment. she had spent the last two years since graduating college curating a travel blog for a small magazine, which had allowed her to travel all over europe, north america, and south america – an experience she knew was probably once-in-a-lifetime.

but she was homesick and decided to return stateside once her contract was up. it didn’t take long to find a position with a professional agency that contracts photographers out for high-profile athletic and celebrity events. even as a junior photographer, she was going to have the chance to take her own photos.

her boss finally handed her a sheet of paper without so much as a glance, motioning toward the door. emma supposed she was excused then, quickly scanning the sheet as she walked out to her car. a pre-nfl charity meet-and-greet was the assignment, and if she wanted, she could stick around to take some back-up photos of the game.

seemed easy enough. except the team was the nightingales. where her ex-boyfriend was currently the quarterback.

a little over two years ago

noah gripped emma’s hand, leg thumping nervously in anticipation. his other hand held hazel’s, who wasn’t faring much better at keeping still. on the other hand, mrs. harris had sat frozen still in front of the t.v. for the last thirty minutes, and emma had to keep glancing over to make sure she was still breathing.

to say they were all on edge was an understatement. in a matter of minutes, they’d find out of noah was going to become a professional football player.

“and the twenty-third pick goes to… noah harris!”

the room filled with squeals as they all jumped up from the couch and gathered noah into a giant group hug. his arm never left emma’s waist, even as he lifted hazel off the ground in excitement.

“you’re coming with me, right?”

she avoided his gaze, choosing to hug him and duck her head underneath his chin instead.

“tonight is about you! we can talk about us tomorrow. we should be celebrating!”

emma took a deep breath and pulled her car out onto the main road, making sure her phone was navigating to the stadium. she hadn’t seen or spoken to noah since they broke up – even though he tried to understand her reasoning, which was that he needed to focus on football and she was going to be traveling constantly – and she wondered if he was still upset.

if they ran into each other, would he even acknowledge her?

her mind raced with different scenarios of how their “reunion” could go and before she knew it, she was pulling into the stadium parking lot reserved for press. you’re here to do a job, she reminded herself as she took a deep breath and made her way into the meet-and-greet area where players were speaking to and hanging out with several families and children.

she took a quick look around and sighed in relief when she didn’t see noah anywhere. she could do this.

about an hour later, she was packing up her equipment. the game would start soon and she needed to get into position. she hefted her bag onto her shoulder carefully before standing up, immediately wobbling under the weight and losing her balance.

a strong arm wrapped around her waist and steadied her.

“thank you—” her voice died in her throat as she looked up at the man that still haunted her dreams.

his eyes and face were mostly the same, but there was a hardened edge to them that wasn’t there a few years ago. his body and shoulders were much larger as well, and he pretty much overwhelmed her frame.

“hey cheerleader.”

she swallowed. “hi, noah.”

his hand lingered even as she righted herself and cleared her throat nervously.

“good luck—”

“it’s good to—”

they chuckled, tension broken for the moment as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“harris, let’s go!”

noah shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back. “maybe we could catch up after the game, if you want to.”

her eyes brightened. “i’d love to.”

they didn’t get the chance. the world seemed to move in slow motion when emma saw noah go down in the pocket from a particularly bad tackle. he had to be carried off the field in a stretcher and it was all she could do to keep from running onto the field.

they had broken up so he could focus on his career. she hoped it wasn’t in vain.

best game

two years later

emma crouched low to the ground with her long-range camera, snapping pictures of the huddle. there was less than twenty seconds left in the game – just enough, if barely, time for one last play. they needed a touchdown. and she could feel the nervous energy in her body thrumming in time with that of the crowd.

when noah went down with that horrific injury a couple years ago, most people wrote him off and didn’t think he’d play again. and if he somehow managed to recover? they all just said he probably wouldn’t be the same. a collarbone injury was usually a career death sentence for quarterbacks.

but the media, press, and so-called sportscasters didn’t know noah like she did. how strong a fighter he was. how he picked himself back up after every setback and pushed onward.

this time, she was with him every step of the way.

that didn’t mean he had an easy go of it.

he had to get surgery and go through months of intense physical therapy to get his shoulder feeling back to normal. then he had rehab for football to try to get back into form. and there was always doubt as to whether he’d be as good as before.

the season hadn’t gone smoothly. they scraped and clawed their way to the playoffs, with opposing teams taking advantage of noah’s occasional hesitance in the pocket and conservative throwing by pressuring his position. but somehow, they pulled through.

sportscasters all over would remark about how something seemed to just “click” back into place for noah harris.

only noah and emma knew what that something was.

a few weeks earlier

“are you nervous?”

noah hummed thoughtfully as his hand trailed up and down emma’s shoulder.

“surprisingly, no,” he said after a moment. “win or lose, i have everything i’ve ever wanted right here in my arms.”

emma chuckled. “when did you become such a romantic?”

“you know you bring it out of me.”

he turned on his side so he could nuzzle his nose in her hair. “you’re it for me, babe.”

“me too, noah. i mean it. if you’ll have me forever, i want that with you.”

noah pulled back to look at her. “for real?”

she nodded.

of course, emma couldn’t say with confidence that their conversation made that big of a difference, but noah’s performance every game afterward seemed to be nothing short of miraculous. by all means, his shoulder should still be giving him trouble, but the way he was throwing today in the championship game would make anyone wonder if he had been injured at all.

but this was it. everything was riding on this last play.

they were down by three points and too far for a field goal. a touchdown would end the game and clinch the championship. the team wasn’t known for playing it safe, not with noah and his arm at the helm.

emma was glued to her camera lens and clicking away, but she was barely focused on the shots. she just hoped the footage was positioned correctly and usable. she heard noah call out the play and quickly scanned the field as players moved into position.

a hail mary.

it really was going to come down to these last few seconds.

she saw the wide receiver break through the line and speed down the field, turning back to where noah had stepped back, arm poised to throw. on instinct, emma moved her camera up and snapped the shutter, capturing the exact moment noah released the ball, right before he was tackled to the ground.

and then everything seemed to move in slow motion.

she swung the camera to the left, finding the receiver in the end zone with his arms outstretched. he jumped up and the ball came arcing directly into his arms and the stadium roared with such an intensity she thought she was going deaf.

emma quickly put away her camera and left her bag with her assistant before running on to the confetti-strewn field, weaving around reports, players, and staff.

she knew noah got tackled. she needed to see that he was okay.

despite the reporters surrounding him, she squeezed her way through and wrapped her arms around him.

“i’m so glad you’re okay,” she yelled over the stadium noise. “i knew you could do it.”

noah smiled and removed her hands from his neck. she frowned in confusion as he took a step back and dropped to one knee.

“what are you doing?”

he was holding out a ring box in his hand and she had no clue how that got there. did a trainer or someone sneak that over to him?

it didn’t matter. it didn’t matter that they were surrounded by tens of thousands of screaming fans or that this moment was likely being broadcasted live by the sheer number of cameras around them. it didn’t matter that his friends and teammates were all hollering and creating a protective circle around them.

all she could see was the love of her life looking up at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“the championship ring we just won today is nothing compared to what this ring means right here,” he said, opening the box to reveal a very sizable diamond.

“marry me, em?”

emma squealed, not caring that it made her look like an excited teenager.

“of course, i’ll marry you!”

noah carefully placed the ring on her finger before wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up. he swung her around before placing her carefully back on the ground, bringing her in for a deep kiss.

“i love you,” he whispered against her lips.

“i love you too, noah,” she whispered back as they held hands and headed off the field.

* * * * * taglist: @choicesficwriterscreations; @khoicesbyk; @nyastarlight; @chetachisblog; @robintora; @shows-simp-card; @brycesgirl;

[procrastinatorimagines]

Family

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Character/s: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Warning/s: kidnapping

Word Count: 4,407

Request:  Hi there, can I get an Antonio Dawson x reader, please? Along the lines of Antonio and reader work together and started dating a while after his divorce and his kids love you (more than their own mum who has been mistreating them esp. since she started dating some guy). Laura's bf is in some shady stuff and Diego gets kidnapped (or hurt) and when they find him, he screams for him mummy and daddy and Laura moves forward but he pushes past her and runs for reader & Antonio. TQ x

Note: this got away from me a little but I never liked Laura, not after the way she treated Sylvie, and I just really miss Antonio, so here you go!

“You can’t move it like that,” Diego told you, watching as you picked up your knight tentatively, glancing up at him before you played each move to see his reaction, usually he just laughed. 

“Can’t I?” You replied, looking back at the board and the piece in your hand, hovering over the square you thought you could put it on. No matter how many times you played against Diego, you never even got close to winning.

“No, you definitely can’t,” he informed you with a smile, shifting in his seat so that he could lean over the chess board and take a better look at what you were doing.

“Huh,” you clicked your tongue, thinking, “well, what if I do this?” You moved your piece back to where it had been, moving it one space to the side and two up. He nodded and you grinned triumphantly, a look which only lasted a few seconds.

“I mean you can, but then I can do this,” he took your piece with ease and added it to his growing pile as you glanced back at the measly two pawns you’d managed to take from him, or, more accurately, that he had sacrificed. “See?” He made a show of it when he plucked the piece from the board and you heard Eva laughing behind you.

“Funny homework?” You asked, looking back to where she sat at the dining table, chewing her pen with books spread around her. 

“Oh yeah, it’s my homework that I’m laughing at,” she joked, earning a small cushion tossed in her general direction. “Hey!” She yelled as it hit her shoulder, throwing it straight back as she laughed, “I’m just saying, how many games has it been now? I’d say quit while you’re ahead, but maybe you should quit before you’re too far behind?” 

“Y/N’s already too far behind,” Diego added and you look between the two of them with fake shock and hurt.

“Antonio!” You called, putting on a whiny voice as you leaned back to look through the kitchen door at your boyfriend who was facing away from you tooking dinner, “Antonio your kids are bullying me!”

“Constructive critism!” Diego yelled back as his dad headed into the main room, wooden spoon in hand as he pointed it at the both of them. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he started and Diego and Eva tried to suppress their smiles, but instead of even pretending to come to your defense he said, “does she deserve it?” You blinked at him as the siblings burst out laughing and Antonio winked at you.

“Traitor,” you gasped, but soon all of you were laughing as Antonio told you dinner was about to be ready. You and Diego paused your game and you helped the kids set the table. 

You and Antonio had been dating since soon after his divorce, but it had been a while before he introduced you properly to his children. Technically, you’d already met both of them, having been brought into Intelligence around the same time as Adam. After you’d started seeing each other you’d kept it on the down-low, and you’d never dreamed of pushing Antonio about it, he was going through a messy divorce and he had to put his kids first. 

It was a rocky start, but when Antonio had found out that Laura had not only already introduced her new boyfriend to Eva and Diego, but had left them with him on multiple occasions, he didn’t see the point in keeping your relationship a secret anymore. 

They’d warmed up to you pretty quickly, even if Laura never had, and setting the table with them now, as you did whenever you came over for dinner with them, you fell in sync like it’d always been that way. Previously, you’d have left after dinner, but you’d started spending the night with the kids around more and more, often going so far as to spend the weekend with them. 

The kids were happy about, much to yours and Antonio’s delight, especially when you’d started making pancakes for them Saturday mornings, it’d become tradition. When Diego had first mentioned it to Laura, however, it hadn’t gone down well. Apparently, she didn’t like a woman she barely knew watching her kids, and she definitely didn’t like Antonio pointing out that her boyfriend, Todd, had been doing the same thing, and at least he’d introduced you to her first. 

It had put a bit of a strain on your relationship for a while, you remembered as Antonio brought out dinner, but sat here now, you couldn’t have been more glad that you’d both decided to stick it out. 

“It looks amazing,” you told him as he took his seat, the smell of rice and chicken in the air as you all filled up your plates. 

“Yeah, thanks dad,” both children chorused their thanks as they tucked in, Diego bulldozing food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten all day. Eva rolled her eyes at her younger brother, but you just smiled, appreciating the normalcy of a family dinner like this, with the man you loved. You weren’t their mother, you knew that, but these kinds of nights made you realise just how much you loved them.

“Oh dad after this-” Diego started through a mouth full of food, stopping and swallowing it with a pointed look from Antonio, “sorry, but after this you should watch me finish beating Y/N at chess yet again.” 

Antonio chuckled and you shook your head. “I’d love to, but don’t you have homework to finish first?” Diego shook his head, mouth full of food again.

“Finished it,” he said at last, Antonio glancing at you quickly to check if he was telling the truth, you gave him a slight nod. “Yeah we had less today because it’s the science fair on Monday,” he explained and Antonio did his best to hide the look on his face that showed he’d forgotten.

“Right of course, that came by quickly,” he said, “what time was that again?” Chances were, he’d be stuck on at work. You knew how much Antonio loved his job, but it was things like this that made him miss the steady hours of the State’s Attourney’s office. 

“It’s okay, I know you have to work, mom and Todd said they could make it,” Diego tried to reassure him but you could tell he was disappointed. 

“I’ll try,” Antonio promised anyway, most likely remembering the parent teacher night that Laura had brought Todd to without telling him, causing several of the teachers to think he was, in fact, Diego’s actual dad. 

“Are you going to come Y/N?” Diego turned to you hopefully, “if you can, of course.” God you could never say no to that face, not that you’d want to right now, it warmed your heart that Diego was including you in this, that he actually wanted you there.

“I’ll try my best, wouldn’t want to miss it,” you replied, patting his shoulder as he smiled at you. Eva looked at you with a look of appreciation; no matter what she said, she was protective of her brother, and she’d been at the age where she actually knew what was going on throughout the divorce. 

It had taken her much longer to warm up to you than her younger brother, mostly because of how attached to you he’d seemed to get, and she’d always worried you’d leave and hurt him, and her dad. 

You finished the rest of dinner with relatively unimportant chatter, Eva explained her homework for the night and you offered to help her with it while Antonio asked for Diego’s help tidying up after dinner. You weren’t spending the entire weekend with them, you had to be back at your apartment for some maintenance work on Sunday, but you promised you’d still be making pancakes for them in the morning. Even though Eva protested that she was getting too grown up for funny shaped pancakes, that turned around very quickly when Antonio suggested she not eat them then.

The rest of the night went by happily, Diego beat you at chess, obviously, and by the time you’d helped Eva with her homework the kids had gone up to their respective rooms. 

“I’m glad he wants you there,” Antonio said, unprompted as you snuggled up to him on the sofa to watch some mindless television before bed. You moved your head so that your chin was resting on his shoulder as you looked up at his face. He smiled as he looked back at you.

“Yeah?” You were too, but your mind had kept wandering to the fact that Laura was going to be there, obviously, she was his mother afterall, but you knew she wasn’t going to be happy to see you. It was Diego’s night, and you didn’t want to do anything to ruin it.

“Of course,” he replied, kissing you sweetly, “you’re family now if you hadn’t realised.” The way he was looking at you made you melt, so full of love as he put his arm around you, drawing you closer. 

“I love you,” you told him, the only response you thought worthy of his statement.

“I love you too,” he kissed you on the head as you snuggled back into his side, how had you gotten so lucky?

-

Monday came by quickly, and mercifully you and Antonio had managed to head out early, having done all you could do on the case you were working until the morning. You were still going to be late to the fair, but Laura and Todd would already be there, and you knew Diego wouldn’t be disappointed, he’d just be glad you’d both managed to show. 

While you knew you’d have to deal with Laura tonight, you hadn’t expected her to be waiting in the parking lot, practically marching over to the car before Antonio had even finished putting it into park. She made it to you just as you were climbing out the car, sharing a look of confusion with one another. 

“Where is he?” She demanded, no greeting or politeness as she looked in the car and then back at Antonio.

“Who?” Antonio asked, just as confused as you were.

“What do you mean who? Diego, your son,” Laura snapped, clearly exasperated, concern covering her face. 

“He’s supposed to be inside,” you told her, earning a deadly glare as she focused her attention back on Antonio, clearly not wanting you to have any input in this. 

“Well he isn’t,” she replied. What did she mean? You were both late, and he had volunteered to set up before the parents arrived so he never should have even left the school.

“Okay, Laura, you need to take a breath and explain what the hell is going on,” Antonio said, his calm starting to slip, “why would we know where Diego is? We came straight from the district and as far as we knew, Diego was supposed to be inside.”

Laura swallowed hard, concern turning to fear, but she didn’t reply. You headed around to the other side of the car. “Laura,” you said with force, putting a hand on her shoulder to try and snap her out of it, “from the beginning.”

Antonio ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath as Laura explained what she knew. “I got here a little late, about five minutes, but when I got in his stall hadn’t been set up, I asked the teachers and they told me that his dad had picked him up straight after school and he hadn’t come back.”

“What? Laura I swear that wasn’t me, I’ve been at the district all day,” Antonio swore, looking back to the entrance of the school. You reached into the inside coat pocket of your jacket for your badge, having a dreadful feeling you were going to need it before too long. 

“Then who took him?!” Laura practically yelled, earning looks from the other parents as they headed in to the fair. “Not again...” she mumbled as Antonio checked his phone for any missed calls, you and Laura doing the same before you headed inside.

Laura pointed you both in the direction of the teacher she had spoken with. “Mr Wright,” Antonio got his attention, pulling out his badge when he tried to tell him that he was busy talking to other parents at the minute. 

“Is everything okay?” The man asked, excusing himself from the conversation. He was a bit of a younger teacher, you remembered Diego telling you that it was his first year, the old physics teacher retiring before Summer.

“Antonio Dawson,” he introduced himself quickly, “I’m looking for my son,” he told him, Wright looking to you before his eyes went to Laura, apparently clocking something as he looked back at Antonio.

“Your son?” He questioned and Antonio nodded. “No, no, Diego?” 

“Yes, Diego, Diego Dawson,” Antonio said impatiently and the teacher, at least, looked equal parts confused and guilty. 

“But his father picked him up,” Mr Wright tried, “I mean- he said he was his father.”

“And you took his word for it?” Laura demanded and Mr Wright looked to her puzzled.

“Well, yes, I mean I’d seen him with Diego before, and you Ms. Dawson, he came to the parents evening just last month, I had no reason to...” he trailed off, clearly apologetic as Antonio practically whirled on Laura.

“Todd?” You had to put your hand on his arm, reminding him that you were in a very public place and you were already drawing attention to yourselves. 

“Why would he?-” She wondered, “that doesn’t make any sense, Todd wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be here tonight?” You realised, cutting in to what was clearly about to turn into a heated argument, Antonio already getting angry, and rightfully so, at the whole situation.

“Yeah, he said something came up so he couldn’t make it,” Laura said finally, “but he wouldn’t do anything to Diego,” you knew she was saying that more to herself than anyone else as you let Mr. Wright get back to the fair. 

“’Something’? What is ‘something’ Laura?” Antonio demanded, getting his phone out to try and call Diego, but it told him that the line was disconnected. 

“I don’t- I don’t know, he didn’t say!” She fumbled, trying to call Todd too.

Both their phones had been disconnected.

“This can’t have been him, whatever this is,” she tried to reason but neither you or Antonio looked a little convinced.

“Then how do you explain all of this?” He snapped back, barging past her towards the entrace, you hot on his heels as you dialed the only number that could help you now, Hank Voight’s. 

Laura followed quickly, still trying to wrap her head around the whole situation as Antonio made her get into the back of the car. Laura tried Eva, but she didn’t pick up, so you decided to head back to the house, where she was supposed to be studying. 

“Hey Serg, yeah we have a situation,” you filled him in on what had just happened as Antonio peeled out of the car park, barely acknowledging Laura as he drove, anger and worry making him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. 

Voight said he’d call the rest of the team as you put it on speaker, and you’d all meet at Antonio’s ASAP, this had become top priority now.

Kim and Adam had arrived first, Eva had been plugged into her laptop and missed the call, but she was okay. Antonio breathed a sigh of relief as he ran up the steps to meet his daughter at the door. The tears she had clearly tried to clear from her face told you she’d been at least partially filled in as the rest of Intelligence arrived. 

“Everyone, gather around,” Voight called everyone into the living room as you took Antonio’s hand, giving it a squeeze for support as Voight continued, “Diego Dawson is our priority right now, we need to find him, so far all we know is Todd Richards, Laura’s boyfriend, was seen taking him out of school at around 4 claiming to be his father, so, where would he take Diego?”

“Wait, Todd did this?” Eva interrupted, listening from the other room as she walking.

“We think so,” Antonio told her honestly, “but we’re going to find him sweetie,” Laura went to comfort her daughter but Eva pulled back, barely even looking at her as she leans into Antonio. Laura turns to where they are stood, clearly hurt but not entirely surprised, still looking guilt about the fact that her boyfriend was most likely responsible.

Antonio hugged his daughter as you filled the rest of the unit in about what you knew about Todd, which wasn’t much honestly. “Okay, well what does Todd do for a living? Who are his friends?” Jay asked, mostly looking to Antonio and Laura.

“Er, construction, he runs a construction company, his friends are mostly his workers,” Laura informed you all.

“He working on anything at the moment?” Kev asked and Laura shrugged a little.

“Sort of,” she replied vaguely.

“What does that mean?” Antonio asked, sending a reluctant Eva out the room with a uniform while you all worked.

“He had a project in the works, but something was up with it, I think an investor pulled out, that might have been where he was supposed to be today,” Laura explained the best she could.

“So he didn’t have enough money? Or any?” You guessed as a map was passed to the unit so Laura could point out the spot.

“They were going under,” she admitted, pulling at a thread of her shirt subconsciously. If they were going under... they’d need money.

“Random?” Hailey guessed, saying what you were all thinking.

“But why? Why take my son?” Laura sounded so lost, but you knew why, and it had nothing to do with her. No doubt she’d told Todd all about her divorce, Antonio, the unit, he must have seen an opportunity to make real cash, but it was hardly very premeditated.

“Look, this was all quick, and so far seems pretty unplanned to me, so he won’t be at some unknown location, he’ll do somewhere familiar, somewhere he feels safe,” you voiced your theory as you stared at the map.

“If construction was halted he’s probably holed up there, it’s his home ground, he’ll be comfortable there and his crew are probably in on it too,” Vanessa continued as Laura sobbed. 

Antonio was trying to hold it together Diego, and Eva, but you could tell this who situation was getting to be too much, Diego being snatched by Pulpo was bad enough, but by someone who was supposed to be trustworthy? You didn’t know what he would do to Todd when you found him, so you were going to make sure you were by his side, just in case.

“Well, whatever he was thinking it wasn’t smart, he hasn’t called to make demands yet and he had to know that cops look out for their own, taking a detective’s son is a deadly game,” Voight said.

“He’s desperate,” Antonio added, “might even be hesitating now he’s actually past the point of no return, wondering what’s going to happen to him if he makes that call.” Nothing good, that much you knew.

“So we head to the site, stake it out, if he’s there, we move in carefully, grab Diego, he’s not going to want to hurt him, he’s his only security in this situation,” Voight decided and Laura pointed with a shaky finger to the spot on the map where the construction site was. 

Hailey got a quick call from the district, confirming that both Todd and Diego’s phones had last pinged within a mile or so of that location, it had to be where they were. 

Laura tried to apologise as you all suited up to leave but Antonio didn’t want to hear it right now, they could talk about Todd when their son was safe. You’d been pretty new to the unit when Diego had been taken by Pulpo, but you remembered the grief Laura had given him about it around the divorce, knew how Antonio had blamed himself. Diego had to be okay, you thought, strapping on your vest and double checking your gun, he had to be.

-

You didn’t say much to Antonio during the drive, but you kept your hand in his all the way, reminding him that you were there with him no matter what. Laura and Eva had insisted on coming, so they’d been positioned with some uniforms outside the perimeter what was now being set up.

“Ready?” Voight asked, more to Antonio and even you than anyone else. You were trying to be as there for Antonio as you could be, and that meant staying calm and steady, but damn it if you weren’t scared for Diego, you loved that kid, you loved the family you were making with them, and you were terrified that something might go wrong. 

“Le’ts get my son back,” Antonio addressed the unit, you were more than ready to risk their lives for one of their own, as were you, as you double checked your weapon yet again.

Before long you were moving stealthily into positions along the site, keeping your eyes out for movement, careful not to attract attention to yourselves. You ad Antonio stopped by a window, carefully looking in to assess the situation, signaling to the others when you spotted movement inside. Heat sensors put about 5 men in this building, the offices for the site it seemed, and one of the figures was definitely smaller than the others, Diego.

Hank positioned himself with you and Antonio by the main door, Diego looked to be in the back, but the order was still as few bullets as possible. Hailey and Jay had taken the back entrace and the others were ready to get anyone who managed to get away, but the look on Antonio’s face told you that that wouldn’t be a problem.

Voight signaled a three second countdown on his fingers as you gripped your gun tighter, your heart thumping in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing. Nothing could go wrong. 

Antonio was more than happy to kick the door in when Voight got down to zero, “hit it,” he told the others over comms, and you were in. They’d got speedy approval from a judge before the op, but extenuating circumstances would have to be a good enough explanation as the door came off the hinges in splinters. Either the door wasn’t very strong, Antonio was very angry, or a little of both. 

Needless to say, the men, who had clearly not thought this all the way through, were startled by your sudden entrace, most dropping any weapons they had pretty quickly when they saw your guns and badges. They tried to run, but quickly saw this wasn’t a fight they were going to win.

Todd tried to keep his gun up the longest, and honestly you thought that Antonio was hoping he’d do as much. Antonio disarmed the panicking man with ease, knocking him onto the ground and jamming his gun in his face. 

“You thought you could take my kid!” He yelled, practically spitting on the man in anger. You took a step forward to stop him but Voight grabbed your arm lightly, stopping you. But you the second hit into his face with the back of Antonio’s gun, you were shoving past Voight and grabbing your boyfriend. 

When Antonio tried to resist you said into his ear: “Diego’s here, he’s all that matters, don’t let him see you like this,” you pulled his gun from his hand carefully and he let you, standing up as Jay and Hailey cuffed Todd and the others. 

You and Antonio ran to the back room as Voight was signalling an all clear. Pulling open the door you saw Diego sat on the floor, hands, feet and mouth covered in ducktape. Carefully, Antonio freed his son, who immediately rushed into his arms, shaking as his tears wet his father’s shoulder. 

“Oh my boy, oh I got you, I’m so sorry, you’re okay,” Antonio soothed as you breathed a sigh of relief, not realising how tense you yourself had been at the situation.

“We got him,” you said into your comms, not being able to take your eyes off father and son being reunited. You headed back to drag out the perps as Antonio lifted Diego still in his arms, and carried him outside. 

“Diego!” Eva and Laura were already running to him, Laura not even acknowledging Todd as she ran to her son. Antonio puts Diego down so he can see his family as you hauled the last of the kidnappers into squad cars. 

Just as you shut the door you felt something slam into your back, nearly toppling over as you turned to see Diego wrapping his arms around you. You bent down so that you were at his level, glancing back to see a shocked looking Laura, arms still out slightly to catch him as he’d run past her to you.

Pulling Diego into a hug he let out a sob, Antonio and Eva heading over to where you both were. “You’re okay, I got you,” you whispered to him, trying not to look at Laura as you did. You felt a little guilty, sure, but he’d come to you, and you weren’t about to send him away, not when you loved him this much.

“Hey,” Antonio ruffled Diego’s hair as you stood up, wiping his tears with your thumb. 

The four of you together, after the day you’d just had, made you start to well up a little as you blinked away tears, glad everyone was back together. 

“Can we go home?” Diego asked and Antonio agreed, “you’re coming too right?” 

“Always,” you told him, putting your arm around Eva as you took Antonio’s hand. Antonio put his hand on Diego’s shoulder, keeping him close as he led you all back to the car.

“Let’s go home,” Antonio agreed and despite all the time you’d spend at that house, for the first time, it really was your home, your family.

[dont-doubt-dopple]

The Missing Days of the 14 Taken - Chaper 2

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

A/N: I binge wrote this at like 2am like the night after I published the first chapter. I’m so excited for this story and the direction I want to take this. Thank you for all the love and support on the first chapter. It really means a lot. Also I’m sorry if some people are out of character, like Joey. It’s hard to write a sassy chaotic evil gay and make him seem like he cares about what happened. And I don’t really watch him so if he seems OOC I’m sorry. The Hermit Peeps are coming soon, but until then, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,286

~~

Chapter 2 - The Situation

Pixl was tired by the time he arrived at the meeting at Katherine’s. The entire time up until that point was spent hoping flying in a slight panic, looking for any sign of his alliances. The large Matral Palace, still in the works to become even grander than it already was, overlooked an empty Mezealea. The axolotl army residing in the coral roof of the Prisma Palace swam patiently waiting for someone who wasn’t there. Even the Cod Empire, with its simple wooden houses and uncleaned corruption were left eerily quiet without their ruler. He was hoping it wasn’t true, hoping he’d run into them simply collecting resources or AFK at one of their farms. But after hours, he couldn’t find any of his missing allies. Not even a message sent on his communicator to indicate they were even there.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He said, sliding into one of the blue chairs of Katherine’s meeting room. Gem was stood at the one end while Katherine sat at the opposite side, watching nervously at the wizard and the two sides of the table. Shelby sat next to her on Pixl’s left, rubbing Katherine’s thigh in order to try and release some of the unease in the other ruler’s movements. But Shelby and Scott were close, that much Pixl knew, so his disappearance must have stung the gnome. FWhip sat on Pixl’s left closer to Gem, the tinker still somewhat covered in gunpowder from whatever he was working on in the new Grimlands Forge. His eyes were distracted on the tablet in his hands as he ran through line after line of server code. Nobody at the table seemed to mind though, for if anyone was able to figure out how their friends went missing, it would be the Admin.

Opposite the three of them were Sausage and Joey. Sausage was closer to Gem’s side, still dawning the corrupted robes and darkened wings gifted to him by the demon pulling his strings. He held a sense of … uncaring about the situation, leaning back in his chair. He looked very tempted to simply put his feet on the table and tone out whatever Gem was about to say if not for the daggers Katherine’s eyes would occasionally throw his way. Joey was slightly less terrifying, the only thing different about the Lost Emperor was the red eyes that stared at Gem like they needed vengeance. Probably because of her escaping his kidnapping thanks to Jimmy. Besides, Pixl couldn’t find it in himself to be overly scared about a man who wanted to get in bed with a demon trying to destroy everything around them.

“It’s okay, Pix.” Gem said, “I’d know how concerned I’d be if 3 of my main allies disappeared. We’ll find them.”

Joey rolled his eyes, not putting any sense of severity into the situation. “They probably just forgot to remind us that MCC was happening. I don’t see what all the panic is about.”

“MCC was last Saturday, Joey.” Shubble corrected. “And me, fWhip and Gem were all there. I can reach out to Wilbur just in case, but I don’t think he said he was going to Origins.”

“Please do. I want to know if anyone on Origins or the Dream SMP is missing as well.” Gem said.

“Wait, this is happening on other servers too?!” Katherine exclaimed.

“I don’t think it matters that much.” Sausage butted in, as Gem’s mouth opened to reply. “Listen, all 4 of them will retu…”

“Five.” Gem corrected, making Sausage sit up in his seat. Clearly he didn’t realize that it wasn’t just his enemies that were missing.

“She’s not ..?” The question was left unfinished as Gem shook her head. A concerned look flooded Sausage’s face now that he seemed more invested in his neighbor’s disappearance. At least, one of his neighbors anyways. Sausage slapped Joey in the side, trying to make him put more attention to the issue at hand.

“Ow. Okay, okay. I’ll care. Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m here, let alone why we’re having this chat. Them being gone is probably just punishment for not embracing my boyfriend.” Joey sighed, pretending to flip his hair like the sassy gay he is. Shubble faked coughed, slipping in the word toxic in between. A small chuckle escaped Katherine as Joey glared at the Queen of the Undergrove. Gem banged her staff on the ground, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. Except fWhip’s, who was clearly hyper focused on the Admin stuff.

“No, Joey, this isn’t involving Xornoth. If he was punishing those who opposed him, I’d think the only in this room would be you, Sausage and Joel.” Gem’s serious tone seemed to shut Joey up, at the very least for the time being. After all, even with the demon on his side she was still clearly more powerful than him. “But I was saying … yes, Katherine, it is affecting other servers. Right now all I know it affecting is Hermitcraft. About 10 people from there have disappeared, including Pearl. That’s where I found out about this whole thing, actually. FWhip, any progress?”

“No, not that I can see. Everyone who should be here is still whitelisted, save for Xornoth of course though that’s a lost cause trying to ban him. Trust me, I’ve tried SEVERAL times. All it shows when I try to look up their current server or try to find where they are server history is this … weird symbol. It’s the same for everyone who’s missing.” FWhip held up the tablet, showing Gem the symbol first as his fingers zoomed in on it. She shook her head in confusion.

“No idea what that is. Does anyone have an idea?” FWhip turned the symbol around to the rest of the group, and Pixl’s breath caught in his throat.

It was the same symbol on the arm of the stranger.

“It looks like the stuff that floats of the enchantment table to me.” Sausage pointed out. “Though I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s not Enchantment. I studied that back ages ago.” FWhip added. “It’s not in the alphabet or any symbols that I’ve seen of the language.”

“It’s not gnomish, and I don’t think it’s elvish.” Shubble said, her eyes squinting to see over the edge of the table.

“I could ask the Overgrown if they’ve seen anything like it.” Katherine suggested.

Pixl, finally after the initial shock of seeing the symbol again, spoke. “Who from Hermitcraft went missing?” The question clearly raised a few eyebrows, and rightfully so. He wasn’t exactly forward to everyone about being a Death Prophet; he doubted anyone currently in the room knew unless they knew how Pixandria chose their rulers and the gift each one possessed. Well, maybe Gem knew but he doubted anyone else would pay that much mind to the matter. But he needed to know. It could lead to the identity of the Stranger in the red sweater who died last night.

“Do … do you know anyone in Hermitcraft?” Katherine asked.

“A few actually, though not all personally. I do a tournament sometimes called Clash of the Creators. I think Pearl and Sausage did a few as well.” Pixl watches as Sausage seems to think for a moment, before nodding in agreement. “I’ve been on a team with iJevin and Xisuma at least, though I have been in tournaments with Cub, False, Doc, Ren, Joe. Any of those people go missing?”

“Out of the names listed, only Ren is gone.” Gem said. “I know Shubble will know another one from MCC.”

“Who?” She asked, eyes full of even more concern than they already were.

“Grian.” She seemed to deflate at the answer; Pix would guess they were close or at least on very good terms. “Would you like more names, Pix?”

“Please. I … I have a feeling about something.”

Again, more weird looks from all around the table, but his ignored it. He was used to it by now. “Can I stop you if hear one I recognize?”

Gem nodded, before she began listing off names. “Tango, Impulse, Mumbo, Cleo, BDoubleO or Bdubs for sho…”

“Stop.” Pixl’s hand shot up as well to confirm his words. “What does he look like?”

“Uh … darkish skin, big eyes, moss jacket?”

“I’ve seen him.” Pix rose from his chair, everyone’s eyes falling him with interest. Even Joey’s, though it mainly seemed to be for the drama aspect and less for the care of his fellow emperors [Remember, Joey is full on chaotic evil at this point in the story. He’s said as much himself. He’s kidnapped his friends, his only ally. He is alone. Just … remember that in this story. Joey, a simple puppet, is alone. But he’s not overly important in this story, so I would worry all that much.]. “He killed someone, in a red sweater and parrot like wings.”

It was Shubble’s turn now to act outraged and shocked, her voice raising with each word in her question. “He killed Grian?! WHY?!”

“Grian. So that’s his name.” He muttered, before speaking once more to the whole group. “I don’t know. All I know is that this Grian guy was killed by BDubs because BDubs was “the boogey” as he called himself. I don’t fully understand it.”

“Is this …” Gem paused, seemingly nervous to ask the question. “Is this your gift?”

“Yeah, it’s the Death Prophet thing. But I’ve never … never met Grian or BDubs in my whole life. I don’t … I only see deaths of people I’m connected to. Usually just you guys. So … I don’t understand why I could see his.”

“You can see deaths? You’ve … you’ve watched us die?” Joey asked, before pouting after Pixl nodded. “I wish had a cool ability like that.”

“Joey, you LITERALLY have wings and the most powerful being on the server as your boyfriend.” Sausage replied, before receiving an immediate smack upside the head from Gem. If they weren’t discussing serious matters, Pixl figured Katherine would have another Sausage head for her collection.

“Oh yeah. I can just ask Xorny for something cool.” Joey smiled, seeming to ignore the synchronized eye rolls from all the women in the room.

“Yes, Joey, I’ve seen you die.” Pixl continued, ignoring any mention of the demon. “It’s how the rulers of Pixandria are able to keep up with the Vigil. Usually we see every death that happens, which can be annoying if Jo…someone decides they need a bunch of heads of themselves or if there’s a death match happening.” His eyes flicker to each member of the former Wither Rose Alliance before continuing. “But … last night I only say him … Grian. And he had that as a tattoo on his right wrist.” He pointed to the symbol still on fWhip’s tablet.

“Pix, Buddy, I think we’re going to need everything you remember about that vision.” FWhip asked, his voice calm and even. Pixl opened his mouth to speak, but Gem held up her hand to stop him.

“Wait, I think it’s better if you only explain it once.” She stated, before pulling out her communicator. “I’ll message Xisuma, Hermitcraft’s Admin, to see if I get everyone here on the Whitelist, at the very least temporarily. If we’re dealing with this many missing people all at once, there’s a good chance they’re all in the same place. At the very least, we have one member from both servers missing. If we pull the information we have together, we might be able to figure out what’s happening sooner.”

The rest of the table nodded in agreement, and soon everyone was taking off to their respective Empires to get ready for a trip to Hermitcraft for an unknown amount of time. Joey had already expressed to Gem no need for him to add him to the HC whitelist; even if he was he’d probably stay on Empires with his Xorny. Soon it was just Pixl, Gem and fWhip left outside Katherine’s castle gates.

“Keep us updated on any visions, okay? Seeing how late it is, the earliest we’d probably be able to get to Hermitcraft is tomorrow morning.” Gem stated, watching as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

“I will, don’t worry. I just … I’m worried.” Pixl admitted. “The place where he was seemed like death. Where lives were not much more that barter. It felt …”

“Wrong?” FWhip finished, and Pixl nodded silently. “This whole situation feels wrong. Like I could have done something to prevent them from leaving. From …” The words remained in the air despite never being spoken aloud. Being Taken. Pixl shuddered at the thought, of his friends ripped from their beds, from their servers, into a scary new unknown. No, no—a familiar unknown, according to Grian. A game they had been a part of before. He didn’t know what was worse.

“FWhip, you can’t blame yourself.” Gem assured him, resting her arm across his shoulders. “You couldn’t have known any of this would happen.” FWhip nodded, though Pixl could see the words go in one ear and out the other. “We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

Pixl didn’t wait around to hear fWhip’s response, instead taking off with his elytra. His mind was already heavy with ideas, trying to make sense of everything he’s learned. The people he’s seen and heard—BDubs, Etho, Scar—must all be from Hermitcraft. He has a feeling that tonight he’ll see more people in visions. More he won’t recognize; more names he won’t fully understand until he has access to Hermitcraft.

He just to hope that one of those people is one he knows.

[redxblueihateloveyou]

I'm curious what you think the worst shipping dynamic is? And the reasoning behind it if you have any.

Thank you so much!!!

haha I do have several of those actually. I’ll include both what I think are the worst dynamics and the kind of ships that “I just don’t get why would you ship smth like that”.

1. What I actually call “a mom and a manchild”.

examples: Hatori/Chiaki from “Sekaichi Hatsukoi”, Ikuya/Hiyori.

I guess, technically there’s nothing wrong with this, if they both enjoy being this way, but firstly I just hate adults behaving like infants and I don’t think encouraging such behavior can lead to anything good, and secondly watching this just makes me uncomfortable for many reasons. And moments like when Hyori came up to Ikuya when he talked to Haru and was like “it’s too late and you can’t talk to this man, time to go home” and Ikuya went I just cracked up at this. Also when one part is basically changes the other’s part diapers, but in return gets tantrums or basically nothing or “but I wanna play with someone else tho”, it’s just a kink I do not get, like why would you want to be treated like this is beyond me.

But then I also generally dislike infantile characters, and I can’t ship smth if I don’t like both parties, so maybe bc of this. I always like the mature characters. Like even when I do know in theory that a 13 year old in reality can’t behave like Todoroki, I’m still like, I don’t fucking care, that’s the one I like xD But when 20 years old Ikuya behaves like this, I just do not appreciate it, I guess.

2. “I don’t have an identity, my identity is you or what you want me to be” category, including “my dignity flew out of the window” ones and “I just do what you do”. (I CANNOT HANDLE THIS DYNAMIC, YOU KNOW I CAN’T!!!!!!! I DO NOT WHY, BUT IT’S JUST PISSING ME OFF THE MOST OF ALL PROBABLY)

examples: Eren/Mikasa, Haru/Makoto, Natsusa/Sei from “Number24″.

Sports animes do that a lot. “The only reason I played rugby is because you played it” is a major cringe. And no, it’s not romantic. Romantic is like when you’re both passionate about this and doing this sports together makes it even better/more meaningful, that I get. Not, “I only went there bc you like it” and I’ll have what you have, I’ll do what you do. Like.. huh? You firstly a person, as in fully formed one pls, you can’t exist as someone’s trail. 

Those ships always contain this one person (like Mikasa, Makoto), who are just the accessory of the other character. Mikasa’s problem is not the ackerbond, it’s her life position, she herself chosen to be Eren’s doormat. And some also find this romantic, I think, but I just hate such things. Also the truth of life: if you don’t respect yourself, your crush won’t respect you either. Just saying.

Makoto, I sincerely think, if Kisumi would be his neighbour instead of Haru, he’d be playing basketball at school lmao. Like SD has so many of absolutely terrible scenes, where Makoto just for real turns to Haru and goes “do you think I should go to the basketball club if we’re not swimming?” like dude, I’m... he’s like a walking definition of “meh” if there ever existed one. How can you do not care what you do? Like at all. This is beyond me. That’s sad. Watching him makes me sad.

I just need both characters in a ship be you know THEM, fantastic on their own, then when they’re together they become an absolutely explosive magic. It’s just a true fact.

Also there is one ship who is not quite this category, but kinda touches this theme. Ciel and Lizzy from “Kuroshitsuji”, ike the original Ciel, for whom she wanted to pretend to be a dumb damsel in distress for the rest of her life. Like fucking seriously????? You’d live like this????!!!! Fucking hell, you must really don’t love yourself like at all.

3. Humiliation isn’t my kink.

examples: Dazai/Akutagawa, Midoriya/Bakugou.

Akutagawa and Midoriya are badass motherfuckers and also wonderful human beings on their own. When they encounter Dazai and Bakugou they become sheeps. I hate seeing them like that, that’s basically it. Also humiliation is really not my kink. The whole “treat him like crap” thing. Like some things they did to them is just.. my god, I don’t like it.

Like when Dazai asked Atsushi to throw the phone moment, I literally flinched so hard watching it, I can’t even explain this feeling between the dejection and utter disgust at the fact that Dazai did it, that I felt watching it, but I fucking hated it.

4. Those who bring out the worst in each other or don’t bring out anything in each other.

All my ships literally all with no exceptions make each other the best versions of themselves, push/challenge each other to become better/brighter/happier, etc., or add to each other that piece the other was missing. 

If someone makes someone feel depressed, miserable or even just simply stuck in a rut, that’s probably not it. There are some ships who just simply can’t make each other happy or even make each other unhappy and that’s a fact.

5. Ships with no development or development so tiny that you need 120 episodes and an magnifying glass to see it.

examples: I’d say, but I just don’t want those 10 year olds in my ask box again.

Hate this for obvious reasons. Because as wise ppl say “only fools don’t grow” or "if we don't change, we don't grow. if we don't grow, we aren't really living."

6. Those who are like brothers to each other and said so and don’t emmit any and I mean ANY sexual vibes or attraction in that kind of way towards each other. 

examples: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley (like THE FUCK seriously), Stiles/Scott from “Teen Wolf”, Keith/Shiro.

I just cannot imagine them being romantically involved, I literally can’t. And I don’t get it. It’s like they even say “you’re my brother” thing, but also they just do not give off any couply feels and imagining this kinda make me cringe a bit, cause I have two sisters I’m very close with and their relationship remind me of our relationships so just.. no.

7. They are not each others priority. Meaning both putting someone else or something else before them.

If they don’t put each other first, I most likely probably don’t want it. 

My jam is like Stucky and when they say to Steve “you do this, captain, and the whole world would think of you as a criminal” and Steve being like “fuck you, take your shield, take your idiotic hero rules, I don’t care, he matters to me more than your whole dumbass world”.

My jam is Lan Zhan who went against the whole world and a horde of stupid donkeys and fought for his baby till the end. He really didn’t care if he’d lose everything and what would other ppl think, if it meant that Wei Wuxian will be with him.

On the other hand, we have Jin Guangyao, who had Lan Xichen, but he wanted power and idiots’ love more, so he chose what he chose. Do not get this ship, like no, thanks.

As for putting specific someone else first. Rin/Sousuke, for example. I in general do not get it, but also like there are like 10 moments in the anime like in Yakusoku when Rin forgot about him, when he saw Haru during the tournament and an actual quote “Sousuke looked at Rin, who will always put Haru first”. So like... I do not get it. If you see them as a couple this is technically no good no for Sousuke, no for Rin.

8. Obviously straight ones, but “hey, I need them gay”.

I in fact just do not believe in a “straight ppl do not exist” thing. As I’ve said before there are exceptions where some characters give off the clear bi vibe, but those are pretty rare tbh. And even more rare canonically proven ones like Kanda from D.Gray-man, for example. 

The moment they show some character in anime drool over some girls he doesn’t even know, but he don’t react to any of the guys like this, this just means he’s most likely heterosexual. Cause only straight guys drool only specifically after seeing random boobs. So this thing always throws me off in some ships.

99% of my ships are either canonically gay or most likely gay, but author doesn’t want to label it. 

There are just lots of animes where main character/s have shown no interest in an opposite gender whatsoever like “Natsume Yuujinchou”, “Kuroko No Basuke”, “AOT”, “Number24″, “Fukigen na Mononokean”, “Tower Of God”, “Owari no Seraph” etc., but did in fact show interest in the same gender one. That I get, yes. 

And btw even if you want somebody to be as I call it a “wishful bi”, I think it should be only in situations like if these characters have some absolutely wonderful/undeniable connection, not just the ship for the sake of gay ship.

_____

That’s probably it. Otherwise I’m fine, I think :D  

[ex-vengeancedemon]

Averting Disasters and Other Ways to Avoid Your Problems

Chapter 3

Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Mentions of things that occurred in Angel: The Series season 5.

Main Pairing: Buffy x Spike

Characters: Buffy, Spike, Giles, Willow, Xander, Andrew, Faith, Dawn

Summary: Set in 2008, five years after Spike’s resurrection at Wolfram & Hart. Buffy is living in Cleveland guarding the hellmouth. Spike has left Angel and company and is hiding out in Chicago. The Scoobies are scattered. When something starts going wrong with the slayers around the world, it’s time to get the gang back together.

Masterlist & Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Cleveland, Ohio 

Spike and Andrew arrived in Cleveland shortly before sunup, much to Spike's relief. Andrew was a bit of an erratic driver and if Spike wasn't already dead, he might have bothered to fear for his life. He had never been to Cleveland before. Never had a reason to. Sure there was a hellmouth, but why would anyone choose it over California? Ohio was a flyover state for a reason. What'd they even have in Ohio? Corn?

Andrew parked the car outside of what looked to be an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district on the outskirts of the city. The windows were all dark and Spike couldn't hear or see a soul around. There was a faint scent of iron in the air that smelled almost like blood, but Spike could tell it was actually emanating from the slowly corroding metal walls of the warehouse. Unlike Spike, the building wasn't timeless. He raised an eyebrow at Andrew, but the eccentric Watcher-in-training was already jumping out of the car. Spike followed after him, only hesitating for a moment. Could barely be called hesitation really. Just... taking a breath. That he didn't really need. Bugger it. It's not like Andrew noticed.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to off me," Spike commented as he looked over at the group of motionless cranes dangling equipment that likely violated several OSHA regulations.

Andrew laughed with a grating kind of chortle that for a second brought Spike back to a different time. At Buffy's house, back when they were still at war with The First. He waved off the memory. No point in getting all sentimental. What's done is done and over.

"No silly," Andrew replied. "This is where Willow said to meet."

"Nice digs. Perfect spot for a demon."

Andrew rolled his eyes at the quip and opened the rusting metal door, motioning for Spike to enter. Spike eyed the door, surprised it hadn't crashed down off its tracks. 

"Alright then," Spike said as he walked into the darkness. No point in arguing. 

Inside, the warehouse was completely empty except for the heavy coating of dirt covering the spalling concrete floor...and a strange rectangular pool of what looked like liquid silver situated at its center. Andrew's footsteps echoed behind him in the cavernous space as Spike moved to get a better look at the curious centerpiece. Despite the lack of light, the silver pool seemed to shimmer and emitted a faint glow. Probably radiation. Spike took a couple of steps back from the man-sized pool. 

"Now hold up a minute," he said, turning on Andrew. "Pretty sure the mercury baths went out of style." He held a finger up for emphasis. "And, if memory serves, Xander was the one with the syphilis problem."

Andrew ignored him and walked to the edge of the pool. "It's a portal. You coming or are you just gonna stand there?"

With that, Andrew stepped off the ledge and disappeared beneath the surface of silver. Spike stared after him. 

"Right, quick trip to hell. Was getting bored anyway. Well, if that git can do it," Spike muttered.

He ran after him and leapt into the pool. For some reason he had expected it to burn, like molten lava. Instead, he felt absolutely nothing, not even as his head sunk under the waves. And then everything was unnaturally bright.

Spike winced away before realizing it wasn't the sun, just orbs of floating white light scattered throughout the sizable room. He recognized the type. This was a magic shop. A multi-dimensional magic shop. 

The shop was quiet despite its size and selection. Spike recognized more than a few rare items that would fetch quite the price on the black market... if one was into that sort of thing. The shelves were fully stocked with spell books, grimoires, various herbs, crystals, and other magical curios. It made the old Sunnydale magic shop look like the kiddie leagues. 

Sitting at a long oval table in the center of the room was Willow, dressed in clothes that looked a day old with a cold cup of coffee sitting next to her. The red-headed witch was surrounded by books scattered around her on both the table and the floor. She didn't even look up at their arrival. It seemed that - apart from Spike and Andrew - she was the only one in the shop. 

"Hey Willow," Andrew said, giving her a little wave. "I got Spike."

Willow looked up from a particularly thick tome covered in a language Spike didn't recognize. She gave a small smile that did nothing to hide the worry on her face or the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Hey guys," she said. "Good to have you on the team."

"Any luck so far?" Andrew asked.

Willow shook her head. "Nothing. There's nothing about mass memory loss in slayers. Of course, there have never been multiple slayers before so. You know, we're back in uncharted territory."

Spike cut in hesitantly, "And Buffy?"

He thought he caught an odd expression cross Willow's face, but it had been a while since he'd seen her. Maybe it was normal.

"I still haven't been able to reach her," Willow replied. "I just got here last night. Called in a favor to a friend and got us a lease on this magic shop 'til we figure out what's going on. I'm hoping Giles will know more."

"Well we should go check on her then!" Spike said, throwing up a hand. "Slayer wandering around out of her head? It's a death sentence."

Willow pursed her lips and glanced over at Andrew uneasily. "We can't. Or...well we're not sure we should. It's not just memory loss."

She paused and Spike began to get more and more agitated. There was something they hadn't been telling him. Something bad.

"During the blackouts," Willow continued, "you know, the times they can't remember? Well, we think that there's someone...else. Someone else is controlling their actions, it's almost like they're possessed. But whatever is doing it-"

"It's a scary good copy," Andrew blurted out.

Willow nodded. "It knows about their lives, how they act, their friends. It even goes on doing the regular day-to-day slayage duties. But we've noticed some things are just a bit...off."

"What do you mean, off?" Spike pressed.

"Well...one of 'em did try killing Angel a few days back," Andrew replied. "They had been working together temporarily and apparently she just snapped one day."

"Well I don't see the problem there," Spike said with a grin.

"Another one didn't recognize her parents when they came for a visit," Willow added. "She hadn't seen them since becoming a slayer and just nothing. Freaked them right out. But she remembered everyone else, insisted they weren't her family though."

"Okay, yeah, a bit odd," Spike conceded.

"And then, two days ago, Giles was training with one of the London slayers when her fighting style switched from streetfighter novice to jujitsu master in the span of a minute." Willow sighed. "And that's when I did a revealing spell. There were was something in her that wasn't her. We don't even know when we're talking with the real person...or the other. Whatever it is."

"And that's why you haven't contacted Buffy," Spike stated.

Willow nodded. "We don't want to spook...it."

"Yeah who knows, it could run off to Timbuktu with Buffy's body," Andrew agreed with a vigorous nod.

"Andrew, could you get me some cannis root from the back storage?" Willow asked him. "I need to do a translation spell."

"Sure, of course!" Andrew replied as he scampered off behind the rows of shelves.

Spike pulled out a chair and took a seat next to Willow at the table without speaking.

"It's good to see you, Spike," Willow said without smiling. "I just wish you would've told us before disaster struck again."

"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "Well, being back in the land of the living has been one should've after another I suppose." He fumbled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up with a flick from his lighter. "Do you think-"

"I don't know if she'll be glad to see you," Willow said, answering the unspoken question. "I don't know."

"Right."

Spike sighed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Andrew returned with a large jar of what looked like...well, roots. Willow took it from him and set the jar aside without opening it. It seemed the cannis root had just been a task to keep Andrew busy. Spike wasn't surprised. Andrew took a seat at the table and began perusing through some of the scattered books. Spike watched as the two continued their research. It wasn't really his forte. 

What felt like hours later - though he knew it had only been minutes - Spike heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Familiar tread. Instant irritation. Bollocks.

"No. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. No way. What the hell is he doing here?" Xander exclaimed as he squinted in the light.

[megashadowdragon]

coldhands identity is brave danny flint

Could Coldhands be Brave Danny Flint? It sounds crackpot, and very likely is, but the more I thought about it the more it appealed to me. I've done a quick search, one or two people seem to have floated this before but it's never had much in-depth analysis. This is my first meta, so please be gentle and C&C welcome.

The Gender Agenda To start with, I'll start with the elephant in the room - Danny Flint was a girl, Coldhands is male. Or is he? Gilly, Meera, and Bran all refer to him as male, but they have no idea who he is, so would see Night's Watch clothes and assume. He wears a scarf over his face, and while they can see his eyes and that his face is pale, it took Bran's gang a decent amount of time to work out he was a walking corpse, so I'm not sure I trust them to figure out niceties like gender. Leaf's "They killed him long ago" is more of a problem - she's a colleague, she would probably know. My best defence is that maybe Children of the Forest don't do gender in the same way as humans? This feels like a reach, but we have had another magical species with sexual fluidity leading to trouble with pronouns in the series. Otherwise, Leaf tends to hang out in the cave, Coldhands can't get in, maybe they're just not that close. Finally, the main person to ask - Coldhands his or her self. The only other post I could see on reddit about this theory had someone respond with the quote "Once the heart has ceased to beat, a man's blood runs down into his extremities, where it thickens and congeals. His hands and feet swell up and turn as black as pudding. The rest of him becomes as white as milk", but I'd point out this is in third person and a generalization - "a man", not "me, Coldhands, the man".

Okay, now I've convinced everyone my theory is terrible, let's get into the meat of it.

Hands cold as stone This was what got me into this rabbit hole in the first place - House Flint's sigil is "A grey stone hand upon a white inverted pall on paly black and grey". A stone hand would be pretty cold, right? In point of fact, when we first met Coldhands, the final line of the chapter describes "fingers hard as stone." On top of that, the white and black background seems to fit the Night's Watch blacks, pale face, black hands, white snow, etc.

Who the hell else could it be? This has always been the weird thing about Coldhands for me. Honestly, there's a very good chance this is a non mystery mystery, he's a zombie Night's watch ranger riding an elk, do we really need a secret identity? However, "who is Coldhands?" is one of the most commonly asked questions in the fandom, so let's assume it's getting an answer. We know: a) night's watch member b) killed a long time ago, as reckoned by a 200 year old, c) not Benjen. There are essentially 3 historical periods where we know any specifics about the Night's Watch: 1) the long night/age of heroes, 2) Targaryen era, 3) recent history. If we work through these backwards, we can pretty much rule out the recent era for not meeting the criteria of "killed a long time ago". The Targaryen era didn't have much Night's Watch drama, a few kings sent to the wall at Aegon's conquest, Raymun Redbeard's invasion is wall related but the whole point of that story is that the Night's Watch failed to really get involved... the only strong contender from this period is a mysterious magical Targaryen bastard who went to the wall and went missing... but he's the other mysterious good zombie wandering around up north. The long night has a lot of Night's Watch focus, but it was 10,000 years ago. Allowing for this being in-universe exaggeration, it's still ~2,000 years ago, and if Coldhands were that old, I'm not sure he'd be in elk-riding mutineer-killing form, or at least not look passably human to Bran and co. This rules out specific timeline characters, which leaves more folkloric characters like Danny Flint, who isn't associated to any one point in time. There's a song, and she's treated as a well-known tale, which implies a fairly long time, but overall could be whenever. This works for any of the folkloric Night's Watch characters, but the Rat King is already otherwise occupied with a different cannibalistic pseudo immortality, leaving Mad Axe, who does have the massacring fellow brothers down pat, but doesn't feel thematically right to me. This section really grew in the writing, but TL;DR - assuming Coldhands is someone we've heard of before, no specific historical figures seem to match up chronologically, leaving figures from folk tales and songs, which there are only so many of.

Mutineer Massacre For a character we've all obsessed over so much, it's easy to forget how little we've seen of Coldhands. His role in the story has effectively been "transport Sam and Gilly to the wall, transport Bran and co to Bloodraven, massacre the Night's Watch mutineers". Hold up, one of those things is not like the others. During his quest to get Bran to Bloodraven, to awake the messiah and save the world, Coldhands takes a break and makes a detour to kill the Night's Watch Mutineers from Crasters. This is explicitly noted to be something they slow down for, when time is critical. Admittedly, it secures the party some delicious Long Pork when supplies are low, but even in aDwD it seems like there are other ways to get meat than to hunt humans, besides which he kills not one but five mutineers. He claims it is because the mutineers are following them, but Meera points out they've been circling for days - it seems Coldhands deliberately sought the mutineers out. The brutality of the kills also suggests more than utilitarian pragmatism - there are entrails slung through branches and severed heads! All of this to say, Coldhands is deliberately shown as both a member of the Night's Watch, and willing/going out of his way to punish Night's Watch brothers who break their vows and harm their fellow brothers, something Danny Flint might take personally. Basically, it's a classic exploitation movie with an elk-riding zombie as the wronged woman hunting down wrongdoers. Someone call Tarantino to direct this.

A True Night's Watch One of the big themes GRRM loves is the idea that outsiders to an institution can be the truest embodiment of that institution - Dunk and Brienne are the truest Knights, Davos is the truest lord, the Manderlys are the most loyal northerners. Coldhands already seems to tie into this - the Night's Watch are tireless defenders from the Others and their Wights, so ironically the staunchest ranger is undead as well. It would only emphasise this theme if this ultimate Night's Watch ranger was someone who was barred from entry, had to sneak in, and was murdered by their brothers for not belonging. There also seems to be a thematic tie in that Danny Flint had to essentially infiltrate the Night's Watch and keep her cover in hostile terrain, much like Coldhands in the Others controlled north.

Bonding over being murdered by your brothers Coldhands has so far been very much one of Bran's cast, but it's worth noting characters can switch storylines, and we have someone else in the North who can soon relate to being a back-from-the-dead Night's Watchman fighting the Others - I'm hardly the first to note the Coldhands/Jon parallels, but Coldhands being another character who was murdered by the Night's Watch due to their conservatism and hatred of outsiders would add another layer.

Miscellany A couple of quotes I found while researching for this: “Did Mance ever sing of Brave Danny Flint?” “Not as I recall. Who was he?” (ADWD Jon XII) - Tormund and Jon talking, Tormund mistaking Danny Flint for a man, this feels like one of those throw-away lines GRRM likes to include to make a little double meaning once the truth is out, or just seeding the idea of mistaking Danny Flint for a man. “The ranger wore the black of the Night’s Watch, but what if he was not a man at all?" (ADWD Bran I) - again, I could see GRRM giggling as he typed that if this theory were true.

Conclusion Honestly, there is every chance this is absolute nonsense, and I've just lost it waiting for TWoW. I tend to lean towards Coldhands not having a big identity reveal, he's an undead ranger co-opted by Bloodraven and that's enough. However, if Coldhands is to have an identity reveal, I think Danny Flint deserves consideration: there aren't that many viable candidates, her story is emotionally intense enough and has been referred to often enough that a casual fan could be expected to go "oh!" instead of "...let me google that", and it would fit with existing themes of the story. The angle of Jon parallels even gives an opening for the reveal to be natural and facilitate character and thematic arcs, which is what I look for in a theory.

comment on reddit

Yeah, the Flint (of Flint's Finger) sigil literally being a Cold Hand is what sold me on this when I started looking into it. There's also some other intriguing textual stuff about it...

The weird thing about Danny Flint is that she is only mentioned three times in all of ASOIAF. Three! Bran recounts her tale in Bran IV, ASOS; Theon hears Wyman Manderly demand her song in The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD; and Jon discusses her tale with Tormund in Jon XII, ADWD.

This was kind of shocking to me. Danny Flint is a pretty recognizable name to, I’d figure, the majority of attentive readers. I thought she must have been mentioned before the third book, at least, but… nope. Her tale is first introduced to us in Bran IV, ASOS, the Nightfort chapter… Oh, what’s that? Wait, isn’t that… the very same Nightfort chapter where we first hear about Coldhands? (Well, no, actually, he appears at the end of Samwell III before that, but this is the first chapter where he is identified as Coldhands.) Chronologically, Sam meets Coldhands, Bran thinks about Danny Flint, and then Sam introduces Bran to Coldhands, in fairly quick succession.

So it seems GRRM came up with Danny Flint and Coldhands around the exact same time. Interesting. Danny Flint is then not mentioned again until ADWD, when the Coldhands mystery is developed further. Double interesting.

Also, the Bran chapter directly preceding the Nightfort chapter– our first introduction to Danny Flint– is the one where Meera tells him the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, another tale of a northern warrior woman dressing as a man and hiding her face in service of some greater goal. Stretch? Maybe.

And why would Coldhands' face be covered at all if there WASN'T some big reveal upcoming? What utility would that have? That scarf clearly seems like a setup for SOMETHING. He doesn't need it for warmth. He's likely hiding a face that would make him recognizable to Bran/Meera/Jojen (and the readers), but died long ago... the only way that reveal could work without a ton of laborious exposition is if he took off the scarf and it was obviously a 'female' face, making it obviously Danny. It also seems likely Coldhands will interact with at least Bran and Meera again, both of whom are somewhat connected to Danny Flint’s story– Bran via his love of stories and legends, and Meera via the breaking of gender roles. So there's thematic levels to it as well.

source www . reddit . com/r/asoiaf/comments/llwm8m/coldhands_identity_spoilers_extended/

[erikthedead]

entry #4

Started reading FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY’s ‘Notes from the Underground,’ and I just got into the second half of him rambling and reflecting on his behaviour in detail. I never would have thought a Russian man from the 19th century would make me feel a little bit less alone in this world (or at least the ‘character’ delivering the narrative). Yet the more I read about what goes on in peoples’ heads the less insane I feel, or at least comforted by realising that everyone is a little bit insane, as long as they’re being honest. Should that be comforting? I feel like that should actually be disturbing, but I kinda like being disturbed. The bit that struck me to get writing about myself was how he recurringly mentions this need to be seen and heard and be a noble member of society, but flip flops between that and a state of isolating himself and being a recluse, ashamed by how his own face looks. I hope I’m interpreting it right, as I’m not so sure I’m smart enough to fully understand everything the man was trying to convey. The whole thing reads as him trying to make sense of himself, if anything. But if I am right in that, I can totally relate, and it causes me much distress as it seemed to have tormented him too.  His way was to throw himself into busy streets and bars, never feeling comfortable with it from what I’ve read, and possibly did it on purpose to feel uncomfortable, because he was getting bored with the current discomfort of isolating himself in his room with his books. That’s the interesting thing about it, he never once says he ‘leaves the comfort’ of his own home, like you’ll hear many well-adjusted introverts say. People who are content on their own. He obviously wasn’t content, he was bored, sick of his own brain, he tells us how he would break down into tearful fits from some sort of mental anguish that he tried to escape from through consumption of literature. I do exactly the same thing with media of all kinds, not because I ENJOY spending time with myself and my things, but because it helps me COPE with it. I am so envious of consistently introverted people who relish in their alone time. That SHOULD BE ME. All the same, it annoys me to death when someone complains about being ‘stuck in the house’ all day when they want to go out and mingle and see the world, because that is too exhausting a thing to wish for compared to creature comforts and solitude, surely. Both of them irritate me because I’m jealous of their seemingly consistent understanding of themselves, their desires and what makes them content on a regular, general basis. I’ve been trying to hard to figure out my own. I’m twenty-six now, yet I still feel juvenile as hell. I still feel like a child that goes up to the next thing that catches its eye and wants to ask, ‘can I have a go?’ And of course, to an innocent child, you let them have a go, without any expectations. You don’t get that luxury as an adult. You are expected to choose, commit, KNOW what you want. But again, I can’t help but think this isn’t me being special, that everyone probably feels this way, you certainly hear it from a lot of old people who humbly state that they are still always learning and discovering new things. Then again maybe they miss the point. Discovering things is fine, all the time. Learning is appreciated and encouraged. But actually changing or choosing not to change (both can be bad, right?), that is unsettling. We’ve given up good and evil for behaviourism and yet still people like me, Fyodor and to name a few other people I relate to when I read their autobiographies, Russell Brand, Stephen Fry, Steve-O (oh yes I compare myself to the greats, in all my unheard mighty feats), people like us can’t even get that right. Creative, expressive, bipolar people. People with big heads and sensitive souls, I’d say. Although I connect deeply to people like this I’d never want to be around them for too long. I know their torment and quite frankly my own is enough to contend with. There is a feeling of ‘pay attention to me but leave me alone.’ ‘Love me more than anything but don’t care too much about me because I’m bound to hurt you or make a fool of myself.’ Actually, in Notes from the Underground, Fyodor talks about man’s unconscious desire to smash up something he has been building, because he is unconsciously terrified of what to do what he has completed it, and Brand actually mentions this quite a bit in his Bookywooks. How he’d personally reach a level of fame and notoriety but then sabotage it, fearing the peak or what comes after – the come down. I hope I’ve interpreted these guys correctly, because it does make sense to me. The only thing that really sets me aside from these guys is my utter lack of ambition. At least in these peoples’ hypomanic states they were achieving something. What do I do? I’m the classic, slightly mentally ill underachiever that never sticks to anything. The sheer magnitude of my unconscientiousness could be used as an example of how not to be during a Jordan Peterson lecture. My downfalls were not self-sabotages, conscious or unconscious for the first half of my life. The rest you can blame on me, that’s fair enough, but puberty hit me early and like a train, and all that meant was I was spotty and got a bullied a bit, but that didn’t excuse me from performing well in my exams and essays. I was predicted to come out with some of the top grades in the whole school. I even started finding my confidence and standing up for myself to bullies after a few years adjusting to adolescence. Then my mother died suddenly one night from an overdose when I was fourteen, and my whole world flipped upside down. Like an anime main character backstory right there. It wasn’t perfect beforehand, anyone who knows my whole childhood situation will agree, but I had a bloody good chance up until she died. After that, I became nihilistic, rebellious, promiscuous and generally self-destructive. ‘How would your mother feel if she could see you now? She wouldn’t have wanted this.’ Oh how I wish I slapped anyone that said this to me. How dare they even try to assume what she would have wanted, having never known her. Of course, I said it to myself all the time, I still do sometimes, but I have that right. The rest of you don’t. Hah, rights. What a joke, even as I try to be dominant through typing to imaginary figments of the past and the future, I’m not even convincing myself.

The inconsistency, of my desires, my attitudes, my cognitions, my emotions and ultimately my behaviour is what pains me. I would rather be a complete abolition that was sure in himself than be like this. What’s even more frustrating is that it’s not that uncommon for people to be like me in that sense, but they just go with the flow with it, seemingly unaware of their inconsistency, and become incredibly defensive when you point it out. It’s understandable, I get defensive with myself, which could be an early sign of schizophrenia, who knows, time will tell. At the moment though I am without doubt an anxious, depressive, inconsistent muddled mess of a person, and even the HOPE for my future self comes and goes in powerful forms. I have the grandiose fantasies of being interviewed by people because I’m just that interesting and my achievements are that remarkable, and I also have the sheer terror while preparing to talk to the shop assistant when I’m buying something. Oh yeah, buying things, that’s a tricky one for me an’ all! The trick with me is not to give me too much choice, because if I have I will never decide, or I will make a silly last minute decision or pick the third thing after debating with myself for ten minutes between choosing from the first and the second. Not only indecisiveness, but impulsiveness plagues me. Not just buying things I don’t need, or don’t even want yet because I haven’t finished the last thing, but even charitably so. I saw a stranger E-begging by chance and decided to send him money. I have no idea why. Am I just a good person? I don’t have enough money for myself, and even if I do have some to spare, that should go to others who have helped me financially before a stranger on the internet. Maybe I’m not a good person, and I just did it to cleanse myself of some feeling of shame or guilt for wasting money on myself. As well as the positive fantasies of my future where I am destined to greatness through nothing other than my own conviction and virtues, I have the other vision in the crystal ball that shows myself destitute and addicted to hard drugs, homeless or institutionalised, ultimately suicided. Addiction and suicide run through my veins afterall, and I’ve been close to becoming the 3rd generation of my bloodline to go out by my own hand. The decently sized scar on my arm from a self-inflicted slash that was intended for my neck, that nearly severed my nerves and would have left me with a malfunctioning left hand had I gone any deeper. Sometimes I look at it and feel ashamed for doing it, for trying to throw away my beautiful, special life, and other times I look at it and feel ashamed for missing my real target, my consciousness. I battle with my consciousness a lot, I try to minimise it through drink and drugs or healthy mental exercises, distract it with my media, sublimate it through writing and drawing, but rarely do I get peace from it. Then other times, I count my blessings and praise the universe for bestowing onto me just the ability to think and feel and be a person. Neither approach to life is crazy to me, what’s crazy to me is not being able to bloody pick one and settle on it for more than a couple of days at a time. Like Fyodor describes his character going out into a busy bustling area in his urges to be part of society after a stint of isolation, I will go out some weekends and do the same, but that’s only a more recent, probably more healthy advance in my development than what I have been doing for a long time which is going online to provoke and debate people with my thoughts and opinions, and sometimes cheeky insults. I really resent when people who know me call it ‘trolling’ when I go off on these episodes. Trolling to me is when you put something out there that you don’t actually stand by, but you know will get a reaction out of people because you’re bored and want to mess with people. Now fair enough, there’s a lot to be said for that last part, but I have no reason to say things I don’t really think/feel/believe when the things I say genuinely are enough to upset people on their own, things I sincerely believe are correct. I’ll feel ever so right and convicted during these online tirades, then the next day want to delete all my social media and wipe my name from the planetary database. Perhaps I could just delete my existence while I’m at it. Seems like my self-doubt and my self-assuredness play equal part in my misery, because like everything else, I can’t choose one. The same happens if I go out and meet new people on the weekend, I’ll exchange numbers and add people with all intention of meeting up in the future, only to ghost them afterwards. I don’t know why.

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream III

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 4, 559

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything; It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i... she feels… (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Anything

Maybe I should kill my inhibition

Maybe I'll be perfect in a new dimension

On the Saturday the week after Barry’s impromptu visit, Iris finds herself down on Main Street about half an hour after 10 in the morning. Nearly the entire 8 blocks of the street are sectioned off, with a plethora of white tents set up on both sides of the street. She glances on as she makes her way down the sidewalk, as people set up books and jewelry and clothes; beer and wine and harder liquor; food and sweets and other treats.

It’s the setup for Central City’s Fall Fest, one of a multitude of fests in the city that Iris calls home. It’ll be open to the public in a few hours and, like usual, Iris will make her way up and down the blocks a few times, holding a beer in one hand and something fried on a stick in the other, a couple of bags filled with things she doesn’t need in the crook of her elbow.

Now, though, she steps into the alley that leads to the side door of Golden’s, an Asian and American fusion restaurant and bar owned by the parents of her best friend, Linda Park. She gives a heavy-handed couple of knocks and only moments later, Linda opens the door to let her in.

Iris first met the other women when they were in the 7th grade. Iris’s parents had divorced several months prior to a new school year and for reasons not then known to Iris, her dad had gotten full custody of her and six-year-old Wally. They’d moved into a new house on the other side of town and that had meant a new school for her. Linda had sat beside her in their homeroom/advisory class and the girl with beige skin and long dark brown hair was constantly scribbling something in a notebook. Iris had discovered that they’d been stories, usually with families as the starring characters. By then, Iris had begun to write in her own notebook—musings and wonderings about the neighbors she’d just met, about what it meant to be the oldest child of divorced parents. They’d bonded over their writing; well, that and being two of only a handful of girls at the school with skin darker than the pale and spray-tanned skin of their classmates.

For over a decade, it’s been Iris and Linda. Through the messy stages of puberty and their even messier interactions with high school boys; through late-night study binges and even worse interactions with college boys. Through the drug addiction that took Iris’s mom and the car crash that had put Linda’s older brother on life support until he’d succumbed to his own injuries, they’ve navigated it all together.

Now, life gets in the way. Linda, almost immediately after undergrad graduation, had begun shopping around a number of short stories and personal essays she had written until, finally, a publisher had bit and opted to publish them as an anthology. A few years and too many nights spent locked in a room later and Linda’s book is a New York Times bestseller. Iris’s own success story is pending. In addition to completing her graduate degree (which, at 26, she’d started late, after taking some time off and working at a local newspaper), she runs a blog, one she’d started by accident. Her middle school musings had become pointed interviews and, with the classes she’d taken in college, had gotten the necessary skills to begin writing up her own human interest stories. It’s amazing, she’s learned, what people will tell you when they can hide behind the face of someone else. What a Life You’ve Lived is growing in popularity, making some money too, and it’s starting to become more than just a hobby for Iris.

Neither Iris nor Linda is ever truly free; but in a concentrated effort to make time, they brunch at least twice a month. This morning, it’s at Golden’s (where Linda is working as a bartender while she writes her next book) because her parents want them to try out new menu items. When the door shuts behind them, Linda turns and gives Iris a hug, wrapping her arms around her neck. Iris returns it, smiling into her hair, her familiar lavender scent a warm comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Linda says, squeezing her hard once before letting her go.

“Yeah?” Iris asks, mouth lifting in a smirk. “Is it because you’re tired of looking at Daniel’s beautiful face?”

Linda rolls her eyes. “Never, though I’d rather put my eye out before I tell him that.”

Linda has been dating her boyfriend Daniel Ngyuen, nerdy engineer and man ridiculously head over heels for her, for a few months, after they met at a book signing hosted by Linda’s parents.

“You’re ridiculous,” Iris tells her, and Linda preens in response.

Something in Iris tightens, a faint film of green clouding her view for all of a millisecond. She’s ashamed she even had the thought, that she feels anything but happiness at the light in her friend’s chocolate brown eyes or the glow in her cheeks. She’s not jealous of Linda, of course she’s not. But Iris can’t help but find some envy at the feeling of contentment that so obviously surrounds her friend and the juxtaposition of her own drifting existence.

It’s almost tangible, these differences, at least to her. Iris can see the confidence practically emanating from Linda’s dress-clad form, the long-sleeved maxi dress and tall sandals, her wavy shoulder-length hair, making her look a little like a goddess. But Iris imagines that’s what it must look like, to be at the start of a career you’ve always wanted, to have the love of a man you’re secure in, to just...know your place, your purpose.

And maybe Iris is being dramatic. She supposes she looks as put together as she’s always thought she needed to be in her light denim jeans, pale pink cropped sweater, and tan block-heeled sandals. She’s been wearing her natural hair out this week and the wavy curls are piled up in an artfully messy bun. Still, even if Iris can’t touch on why she feels so scattered, like all of the pieces that make up the whole of her are floating aimlessly around her body, she cannot deny that the feeling is there, taking up space in her head like the songs she latches on to keep focused, maybe I should pray a little harder, or work a little smarter.

They walk through the restaurant, bustling with the waitstaff preparing for the 11 am opening. Golden’s isn’t an overly large place, only able to fit about 50 people at a time, but Iris thinks it’s a part of the charm. It’s decorated in dark brown wood and bright white and gold light fixtures; the tables and booths are spread out in a way that allows for privacy, making customers feel as if they’re in their own little worlds.

Linda leads them to their usual table, one actually tucked into a little alcove where only the Parks and their guests are allowed to sit. At the table, there’s already a carafe of juice too close to red-pink to be orange juice, along with a bottle of champagne. Outside of the wine and marijuana Friday nights and the occasional party or club, Iris only really indulges in alcohol when she and Linda have these brunches. They slide into the booth and Linda immediately reaches for the champagne.

Over the next couple of hours, Iris is reminded of why, regardless of her own issues, she loves his woman. They laugh, sharing stories of Iris’s students and the customers who come into Golden’s. They get on each other’s nerves, making jokes and ribbing the other any chance they get. At one point, Linda’s parents come out, her honey-skinned Chinese mother Xuan and her dad Theo, Chinese and white with skin like baked sugar cookies, and Iris blinks adoringly up at the both of them, always lost in their beauty—both tall and elegant with ridiculous cheekbones.

“It’s sickening,” Linda mutters as she watches Iris watch them walk away, “how you look at them.”

“I’ve had a crush on your parents for as long as I’ve known them,” Iris replies. “If they ever want a thre-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking statement,” Linda gripes and Iris howls in laughter until Linda points out the attractiveness of Iris’s own father. “You know I’d always hop on the chance to be your stepmom.”

“And I’d happily sabotage your wedding day.”

“But it’d be worth it when I got to climb on top of Daddy West during the honeymoon.”

Iris throws a strawberry at her.

She hears him before she sees him. She’s been at Fall Fest for only about twenty minutes after leaving Golden’s, full and tipsy, walking through the steadily filling streets. Of all of the festivals in Central City, of which there are several (seasonal fests like the Fall and Spring fests; food fests like the Food Truck and Italian Food fests; cultural fests like the Juneteenth and Hispanic Heritage fests), the Fall Fest is one of her favorites. It’s during the best time of the year, when the sun is still blazing but the wind cuts through the heat. When the leaves have begun to drift off trees and dance onto the ground, changing into the shades of yellow and orange and red that only nature can paint. When the booths run the gamut in what they sell, from cooked and packaged foodstuffs, to clothes and jewelry, to dance or golf lessons. It’s the one festival, besides the Pan-African Celebration, that their entire family would attend, even for a few years after the divorce. Her parents would take off work and put aside their differences to spend time together--until Wally had felt too old and her dad had needed too many more work hours and her mom had gotten too lost; and then Iris had started coming with Linda and then, this year, alone.

But she doesn’t dwell—she tries not to dwell these days—and besides, she’s just heard him.

He doesn’t sound any different in the light of the day. In her head, she keeps hearing him as he is in the throes of passion, when his voice is more of a throaty curse, when it’s a rumble against her heated flesh. Here, out here with children screaming from their blocked-off sections and ladies laughing as they smell through candle selections and men arguing from the faux sports bars set up at random tents, he should sound like anyone else. He shouldn’t even be heard over the music coming from the speakers they can’t see—down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; do do do down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; i hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will—or the sheer noise that’s true for events like this. But he is.

She looks up, ignoring the woman still trying to convince her to buy a bottle or three of perfume, and she sees him, right at the booth beside hers. He’s with two other men, one shorter with light brown skin and dark brown eyes and black hair pulled back in a ponytail; the other only a bit taller than the friend, with skin darker than Iris’s, glasses, and a short afro. Iris vaguely thinks that the three of them together are some sort of setup for a bar joke. They’re dressed similarly, in pants and t-shirts, though Iris’s eyes catch onto Barry’s hunter green chinos and white shirt, the beige pocket square matching his desert boots. All three of them have relatively full beers in their hands and Iris is looking at the cup in Barry’s hand (or rather, his fingers wrapped around the cup) for about three seconds before it jerks, beer spilling out. She looks up to find he’s looking back at her too, muttering “Iris,” in surprise.

She watches her hand and smiles back at him, a bit awkwardly, stepping away from the booth where the woman has already moved on to a new customer.

“Hi Barry,” she responds, walking over to them. She spares a glance at the other two, the Black man looking at her curiously, the Latino man a bit more humorously. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It’s not her smoothest line, but Iris thinks she might be in shock. When he’d left her, again, before she woke up on Saturday morning, she’d found his number written in tiny handwriting on the notepad on her desk, the unimaginative “call me” scribbled beneath it. She hadn’t. She’d thought about; oh had she.

On Monday, she’d debated calling him up to grab a coffee during her break. On Wednesday, she’d gotten an email about a new story and she’d wondered, for a moment, what he might think about it. But then she’d thought of his sweet mouth telling her “I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory,” and she had decided that he likely wouldn’t care about her days.

Now, he gives her a thorough once-over, probably remembering, and Iris feels a flush of heat run through her that she knows has very little to do with the warm late September sun.

“Iris,” he says again, his voice a touch higher than normal. His companions look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Iris,” the long-haired one repeats, laughter coloring his tone. “I’m Cisco.”

“And I’m Chester,” says the one with dark skin, and they both stand there looking at her, grinning like loons until Barry cuts in.

“Alright, stop being weird.”

They don’t. Barry rolls his eyes and pushes past them to stand in front of her. Even with the heels she’s wearing, she has to stretch her neck a little to look up at him.

“Hey,” he says, this time lower, a soft breeze on her skin.

“Hi,” she repeats, just as softly.

The sounds of the carnival don’t disappear so much as they become muted, such as if she were submerged in water or if there was a rushing in her ears, because everything becomes background noise save for the concentrated sound of his voice.

“You didn’t call,” he says to her.

“I—” she starts, but she’s got nothing to say, not anything that won’t make her sound needy or desperate.

“Hey Barry,” Cisco calls.

“Yeah?” Barry answers, but he doesn’t turn away from her. No, he’s looking at her still, assessing her almost. He’s trying to figure something out, she decides, or at least that’s how it seems, what with the way he stares so intently, blue-green eyes pouring into her, bringing up images of them staring up at her from between her thighs, bringing out impressions that feel like more than lust, like more than just two people who’ve only ever bared their bodies to each other.

“We’re gonna go to another tent,” Chester says. “Catch up with you later.”

“Alright,” is the reply, those eyes glittering like the sea in the afternoon sun, still fixed on her. There’s a slight frown to his mouth, and when he speaks again, she can’t tell if he’s reached his conclusion or not.

“Walk with me?”

She nods before she even thinks about it. “Sure.”

They start back down the path. The booths are in abundance this year; it’s a bigger festival than she’s seen before. For a while, they don’t talk. They walk side by side, arms brushing every so often, stopping at booths that catch their attention. For him is a booth with a variety of multi-piece puzzles, some featuring landscapes and gardens, others of the solar system or space. For her, it’s one selling notebooks, beautiful leather-bound journals. She stops, enthralled, picking up one in coral-colored leather with rose-gold edging.

“We can also engrave the name,” the sun-tanned woman with pale blonde hair behind the tent says. “Or you can order custom colors.”

Iris nods, murmurs, “these are really nice,” and continues flipping through the heavy cream paper in the coral notebook. These days, much of her writing gets done on her overused Macbook; it’s just easier that way. But when she writes, for herself—little anecdotes about her day, her feelings spelled out in poetry—she does so in notebooks like these.

“You’re a writer,” Barry wonders and it’s a statement as much as it’s a question.

“Yeah.” She looks up at him and nods. “I’m actually getting my master’s in journalism.”

She puts the journal down once she notes the $40 price tag and thanks the woman as they walk off, Iris looking back at the notebook with longing.

“I also run a blog,” she tells him, and the words tumbling out of her mouth are a shock.

“Really?” he looks at her in surprise. “What’s the site? Is it popular?”

It’s not like she’s embarrassed of her blog or anything, but it feels different, to tell people she knows about her work. Because it’s one thing for strangers to read what she types out in earnest, and in tears and in vulnerability, but it’s something altogether different for people she knows to do the same. They aren’t her stories, not actually, but they are always her words, always her emotions she puts into them, and it feels too, too telling somehow.

“It’s growing in popularity,” she tells him, because she’s the one who opened this can of worms. “It’s called What a Life You’ve Lived.”

He hums, like that means something to him, but before she can ask what, two kids come barreling through the aisle. Iris tries to step out of the way and she slips, her heel catching in a small crack in the asphalt. Her knees buckle, but before she can hit the ground, Barry’s arms are around her. One of his large hands holds onto her, pressed against the bare skin of her belly, and then she’s pressed fully against him.

It’s absurd how much she likes the feel of him—the slim but corded muscles in his arms, the apparent strength in his fingers; and she likes the smell of him too, the faint hint of his laundry detergent mixed with the heat of the sun mixed with the citrus of his cologne. It’s another moment (™), which doesn’t make sense because he’s only just caught her from falling. But he’s looking at her like there is more in her gaze besides the brown of her irises, the flutter of her lashes. It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i...she feels…

“Are you alright?”

Barry’s voice is quiet, too quiet for the energy they’re surrounded by. And maybe she doesn’t even hear it as she does read the movement of his pink mouth.

“Yeah, I am.”

He straightens, then, and gives her a half-smile. “You know, Iris, if you wanted to fall all over me, you could have just called.”

He likely had been trying for levity, but it’s pointed, right there at the end. She steps away from him and he lets her, his fingers sliding along the small of her back until they’re no longer on her skin. It leaves her cold

(only that can’t be true, because it’s far too warm out)

and she watches as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I was waiting on your call, Iris.”

They've moved into a corner where the direction of the festival booths turn right. Straight ahead of them is a 21+ section; it features a stage where performances will begin around 5 as well as a number of makeshift bar stations. There’s a similar set-up with kid-friendly activities on the other side of the festival. Barry’s friends are standing at one of the bar stations talking to two women, both with chestnut-brown skin and long kinky hair. Iris’s eyes shift to take in the rest of her surroundings, to the sound of people laughing and the couples holding hands and the families who seem elated to be together on a day like today.

When she turns back, Barry is patiently watching her, head tilted to the side, expression thoughtful, like it always tends to be.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Barry suggests “We can walk around some more. And once we get sun-tired, I can take you to this spot that I like nearby and we can talk. Maybe about why you didn’t call.”

She licks her lips, pulls the bottom one between her teeth. She hedges, long enough to tell herself that this would be a foolish endeavor, that she should just say no, that he’s nice and cute and what harm would it do. But, really, when he asks, those cyan eyes gleaming and his cheeks faintly pink and his face so goddamn hopeful it almost makes her look away, she really has no other choice.

“Okay, sure.”

She doesn’t tell him why she doesn’t call.

What she does is tell him about her dad and how she’s always been in awe of him, of his grace and his strength and the lessons he’d taught her. She tells him about Wally, who’s brilliant and searching, trying to figure out his way (not unlike her, though this she doesn’t say). She tells him about Linda, her sister in all of the ways that count, who’s always with her, even when she isn’t. And when he asks, because of course he does, she tells him about her mother who was beautiful and kind, all the way until sickness took her away.

She tells him this because he tells her first, about a larger-than-life father whose proximity to wrong-doing bureaucrats had landed him in prison, and an easy-going mother whose life had ended because someone else had been desperate for the money in her purse.

They do indeed walk around ‘til they’re tired, until around 6. Then Barry takes her to a little American bistro where they pride themselves on grass-fed meats and homegrown vegetables. They devour burgers the size of their heads and a mountain of fries that deserve their own table. He stuffs her with food and a piece of pie after, and he asks her some questions. He wants to know her favorite color and the television show she’s currently watching and if she’s always wanted to be a writer: yellow and Bridgerton and only since her parents’ divorce, when she’d needed to know that hers was only a unique story—or maybe she had needed confirmation that it wasn’t. She wonders about his dream job, his favorite hobby, the one thing he wishes he could do: forensic scientist, which he is, amateur theater, and getting his dad out of prison. That opens up a space for more convolution than should be allowed on a first date, and so she asks him more about amateur theater.

After, he walks her back to where her car is parked past Golden’s. When they get there, he listens for the sound of her car alarm, and then he turns her around, pressing her back against her car door. He walks closer, a hand at her waist, the other reaching up to cup the back of her neck, thumb circling lightly around her throat.

“Thank you for dinner,” she whispers. “I had a really nice time.”

“Yeah?” His mouth ticks up, that half-smile that is somehow both charming and a little bit maddening. “Enough that I might get a kiss?”

She tilts her head as if in thought, even as she gives in to her desire to touch him too, reaching up to finger at the faint moles dotting her cheeks. She only barely nods her acquiescence when he closes whatever distance is left and kisses her. Iris is always surprised by how warm his mouth is, by how sweet he tastes. He tastes like the apple pie they had earlier, but also like early sunset coffee on cool fall mornings and like how slow sex in the middle of the night feels.

He’s gentle in some ways, his mouth moving slow against hers, his tongue licking into her mouth like he’s trying to find life inside of her. But he’s a little rough too, squeezing at her waist so he won’t fondle her in the middle of the street, tightening his hold on her throat, only a little, but enough that Iris begins to feel the action in the throb of her sex. They kiss, eyes closed, her own fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, her hips thrusting against his in time to the flick of his tongue across her bottom lip, until she feels the swell of his dick against her belly and her loud moan tears him away from her.

“Fuck Iris,” he all but growls, licking his lips as he looks her over, a little wrecked. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, playing with the soft strands of his hair, until she notices it’s all messy, matching the state of his swollen mouth, his wrinkled skirt, the heavy dent in the center of his pants. She wonders what she looks like.

“Get in the car, baby.”

Wide-eyed at the endearment outside of sex, Iris does as he tells her to, sliding in and buckling up before he closes the door. When the purr of her engine starts, he motions for her to roll her window down. She does, waiting as he plants his elbow on top of the car, bending his lean frame down so that his face is level with her.

He smiles softly at her. “Go out with me next Sunday.”

She bites at her lip, if only to give herself another moment to breathe. Because this date would be moving beyond a two-night stand, beyond an impromptu date, far beyond kissing on the side of the street.

“What time on Sunday?”

“Early afternoon,” he says and leans in even closer. “I’ll pick you up.”

She nods before she can talk herself out of it, even if she knows that she should. Barry motions for her with a crook of one of his long fingers, and it makes her think of what’s been playing in her head, of down for the ride, down for the ride; you can take me anywhere, and when she comes to, he places a sweet kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says, pulling away slowly.

And then Iris watches him—his strong and assured walk, his compelling and commanding aura—until she can’t see him anymore.

Do do do down for the ride, down for the ride

You could take me anywhere

I hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will

[silver-spider-art]

ToA: Trollhunters vs Wizards

First I don’t want to come off like I don’t think people should enjoy Wizards. Its a fun story and as a stand-alone or an AU its funny with so many call backs to favorite characters, and many emotional moments. Lots to enjoy on its own. However, it is AU. It doesn’t fit in the same timeline of events as what was hinted at and implied in ToA:Trollhunters. I believe the biggest reason beyond the tight time frame the crew had to work under is just that the main writers that were responsible for the majority of the original script for ToA:Trollhunters didn’t return to Wizards for whatever reason (they are back for the movie so fingers crossed). The people who wrote Wizards mostly had teleplay credits on ToA:Trollhunters (edited the screen play but didn’t write it) so while they’d been deeply involved in the original... well clearly a lot of ideas were lost in the swap.

So, why do I say the timeline was screwed up by Wizards version of events?

The opening of Wizards tells us that it’s the late 12th century and then says the present is 900 years later. We know that the current year is 2016 because Enrique’s crib in the Darklands lists him as born in 2016 (so while this doesn’t directly set the shows date it can’t be much past that and assuming Enrique is less than a year old, we can say it is 2016). Now 2016 - 900 is actually 1116 which is early 12th century, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

This drastically changes how we understand the history of this world. If Deya is the first Trollhunter, then all other Trollhunters existed between 1116 and 2016. We see at least 14 troll statues in the Hero’s Forge and we also see several others in storage when Claire retrieves Angor Rot’s head for Morgana, so we can assume a minimum of ~20 Trollhunters. This gives us an average of 45 years as the life span of a Trollhunter. And yes that might seem long to a human but we are told the oldest troll was 5,352 years old and since Vendel, Blinky, Arrrgh, and Draal are all there to see the first Trollhunter chosen and thus well over 900 years old (Draal is straight up said to be 1200 years old during ToA:Trollhunters), then to be chosen by the amulet would be a quick death sentence. Now, while Blinky does only say that the Trollhunters date back to the age of Merlin, this is implied to be further back than the lifetimes of the trolls of Heartstone Trollmarket. Draal talks about spending his entire life training to be worthy of it. Kanjigar pushed his son away to protect him from the dangers of the Trollhunter’s duty implying Draal was young and not an adult during this time, and the absolute faith the trolls have in the amulet and their reliance on the protection of the Trollhunter implies that they’d grown up seeing this as normal. Yet as shown in Wizards, Draal was an adult when the amulet was made. If this was the case he would've seen the amulet pick literally anyone other than him for 900 years and have no reason to think it’d pick him now. Also while showing Jim the box of stones to try in his amulet Vendel talks about Maddrux the Many from legends of old. So old they’d all forgotten what the stone’s actual power was, thinking it was the power of great strength and not the ability to make copies of yourself. 900 years, as we’ve established, isn’t long for a troll. Would you call something a legend of old if it was an event you were alive for? Even if Maddrux didn’t hang out in Heartstone Trollmarket, Maddrux wouldn’t have been an ancient legend. Vendel would've been alive for every Trollhunter to have ever been, so would’ve Blinky, yet they talk about the Trollhunter and the amulet in a revered way that doesn’t befit something which happened within a single lifetime, a single troll generation. 900 years is long for humans, but not for trolls. They would all have to have such bad memories if this is to be believed. 

Another point of contention is Angor Rot. It is shown in a flashback that Angor Rot gets power from Morgana in 1297 with the location stated as Bulgaria, Black Sea... which Wizards shows us Angor Rot taking Morgana here after she drowns... but Camelot is in England/UK (in the normal legends)... that seems quite the journey for a dead girl he randomly found but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. He calls her forth by 4 names Argante (queen of Avalon or another name for Morgan Le Fey), Pale Lady, Baba Yaga, Eldrith Queen. So one, Angor Rot knows who he’s calling to, he’s not addressing the other spirits that Wizards showed using this place. Also it implies that Morgana has gained quite the legacy of power and influence. Now, when he gets her attention he says “Gunmar’s war for the surface lands has ravaged my village. I need the power to protect my people.” This very heavily implies that the war is ongoing. Based on Wizards, Gunmar was sealed away 181 years ago. It’s also strongly implied that all the Gumm-Gumms except Bular are gone now. So... who’s destroying Angor Rots village? Also we see Morgana’s hand in this scene, so either she’s really good at manifesting or she hasn’t been sealed yet. And if it was a manifestation, why would she make a physical ring? Regardless, she tells him he’s to seek Merlin’s Champions and kill his Trollhunters. Angor Rot was later sealed away in an ancient ruin of Aysa-Thoon in Ranthambore, India (which is in the middle of a tiger reserve btw). It’s old and overgrown implying he’s been there a while. Otto also says he found the location in old tomes so at the very least Angor Rot has been sealed away for centuries. So he runs around killing Trollhunters for ~300-400 years. If this is after the Killahead Bridge battle as Wizards would have us believe, then the only trolls on the evil side killing Trollhunters are just Angor Rot and Bular... which just seems off to me for how everything else is talked about in ToA:Trollhunters. 

The Janus Order and the changelings are another confusing point that Wizards makes worse. When asked about changelings Blinky says that in the Old World Gumm-Gumms stole their young and did something unnatural to them and that their main purpose was to spy on the surface lands. Blinky also says that the Janus Order is an ancient guild of changeling spies, as old as they are mysterious. The phrasing of both these points imply that changelings have existed for a very long time by troll standards, not something that happened well within the lifespan of every troll seen in the show. In Wizards we see all of one changeling who’s already an adult and implies his power is new. Gunmar uses plural when he talks about Morgana’s changelings but they are also very clearly a brand new thing. From ToA:Trollhunter we know that human babies and changelings are exchanged through fetches into and out of the Darklands but if Wizards is to be believed and all the Gumm-Gumms except Bular were sealed away after the Killahead Bridge battle in 1116... who was stealing the babies? Bular? Considering how much Bular hates changelings I have a hard time picturing him setting up the exchanges to get the Janus Order established entirely on his own. If we assume there were a few changelings left loose after Morgana was sealed away... maybe... but Morgana and Gunmar just met and have worked together for like 3 days max... why are they so reliant on each other. And if most of the changelings were made after Morgana was sealed away then why are changelings like Otto so beholden and worshipful towards her? In his Janus Order orientation speech Strickler calls her their Lady Creator and that seems undisputed by any of the changelings. It is implied that Morgana is the only reason their are changelings. NotEnrique says he’s centuries old which means he’d been waiting in the Darklands as a baby until he was needed which I always took to mean that all the captured troll babies had been changed by Morgana before she was sealed away. If Morgana isn’t actually needed to make changelings, then why do they worship her and answer to her over Gunmar? Also Morgana only whispered to the changelings like Otto, never to Gunmar in the Darklands, so she couldn’t have helped set up the changeling magic from that side. 

Then there is Morgana and Gunmar’s relationship. What we see in Wizards, Morgana becomes the champion of the 3 new elemental villains, she makes a changeling (off screen) and sends him to kill her brother, only then does she go see Gunmar. When Morgana talks to Gunmar she immediately brings up the Eternal Night, which... if she’s the champions of the 3 elemental beings who want the humans dead to bring balance to the world... how does the eternal night help them? It certainly wouldn’t help Nari of the Eternal Forest and I can’t think of any reason the other two would want that either. It only helps trolls (trolls who don’t realize that all their food sources need sunlight to exist). After we see her add the mind control power to Gunmar’s Decimaar Blade we don’t learn anything else she does for the Gumm-Gumms. To be honest, if I were Gunmar at this point I’d assume she set me up. Some sorceress shows up, is the king’s sister, she frees your son with a new troll hybrid thing you think is impure in order to get you to trust her and gives you a weapon upgrade to make you think you should go all in on the next battle and then you and your whole army gets locked away for 900 years... kinda no reason to think she ever had your back, especially not to the point that you trust people who say they’ve gotten visions from her in a worshipful way. She very clearly did Gunmar no favors in Wizards. 

Merlin, oh Merlin... one, he’s entirely useless in the entirety of Wizards and always doing something wrong or just not having any power to do anything which is just baffling compared to the power he was throwing around in ToA:Trollhunters. As we see Morgana get sealed away in Wizards, it’s Douxie doing the sealing and Merlin has already fallen down and is asleep for some reason. This despite the fact that in ToA:Trollhunters he claimed he needed to use nearly all his power to seal her away and that was why he was asleep. That her being free meant he could get his power back which just... isn’t how anything happened in Wizards. Also Merlin very pointedly claimed that Jim couldn’t defeat Gunmar as a human, that he would die. But, in Wizards Merlin had originally been building the amulet for Arthur, a human. It was only afterwards that he decided to make it for trolls. So was the only reason Jim had to be a troll because the Jim he met was a troll? Because that is just really fucked up. The speech he gave Jim about needing to sacrifice his humanity, it implied that Merlin had planned this all out, seen this moment... but Wizards Merlin was just constantly in reaction mode and was completely backing Arthur and ignoring literally anything anyone else said until right before they went to the trolls for help. Merlin didn’t give a shit about trolls and they also hated him... but afterwards they love him to the point that they’ll talk worshiply about him? And why did they have to go back to the past? Merlin was so insistent they go back to the past at the start of Wizards... implied like they needed to flee the enemy but a moment after the kids are lost in time he just defeats the skull ship and no one that’s left on Camelot is in danger  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. 

Also when Merlin and King Arthur go to the trolls to ask for help, at this point in Wizards it’s mostly been shown to be a battle between Gunmar and King Arthur for territory. It’s implied that the other trolls have until recently been more hurt by Arthur than Gunmar and Gunmar is only now trying to force them to join because he needs more recruits. Yet in ToA:Trollhunter the war was stated to be mostly a disagreement between Gumm-Gumms and all the “good” trolls and the humans just the victims. Everything in ToA:Trollhunters implied that humans didn’t stand a chance against trolls, Gunmar was endlessly dismissive but in Wizards King Arthur and company were a real danger to trolls, Cal/Deya was nearly taken out by an arrow. In fact the trolls of Dwoza were so useless that they needed humans to train them how to fight. They had no warriors? Where were Draal and Kanjigar during the fight with Arrrgh? So all of the trolls who would become the Heartstone Trollmarket trolls (including Bagdwella) had to be trained to fight by humans before Killahead but then were so disgusted by human Trollhunter Jim that they fainted? That they thought the very idea that a human could fight a troll was laughable? Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. 

And Killahead Bridge, let us not forget. It is the portal to the Darklands but as Cal/Deya walks over it she dismissively says its nothing but a bridge over a dried up river so clearly Wizards is saying that Gunmar isn’t actively using the bridge as a portal, in fact we see no portals or any sort of magic used by trolls in Wizards, not even the door like in Heartstone Trollmarket, Dwoza just has a physical door. The only person who seems to have known that the bridge was a portal was Merlin as he is making battle plans. This also implies that the whole point of the amulet was just to seal Gunmar away in the Darklands. Which is just... why? The amulet hadn’t even been tested against Gunmar yet at this point. This brings up so many questions about the Darklands that are more confusing like how anyone figured out the fetches if travel back and forth from the Darklands wasn’t a thing until after the bridge became a sealed door. 

As for the Trollhunters themselves, what were they all doing if every other Trollhunter existed between Deya and Kanjigar? Deya defeated Gunmar and sealed him away leaving only Bular and Angor Rot and the changelings. We know they weren’t fighting the Janus Order because Blinky had to look them up in a book and Blinky has actively been involved in several instances of Trollhunters (at least Kanjigar and Unkar) so he should know. Jim killed both Bular and Angor Rot, to whom everyone else just died. So what were they doing? Just cleaning up Gnome messes and Goblin battles? If there were no other Gumm-Gumms to fight, why was it a revered position that anyone wanted. The way Wizards sets up the timeline its more a curse that just means you have a countdown timer until Bular kills you. Also every single Trollhunter in the void tells Jim its suicide to fight Gunmar, even after he killed Bular. But by Wizards logic the first time the amulet was used against Gunmar it was able to seal him away forever with hardly a fight. If anything they should think Bular was more powerful than his father by that logic. It all just makes no sense. 

There is more, like character backstory elements that upset me. For example how Arrrgh’s trauma over his treatment as a pet by Gunmar was ignored by Wizards and how his fear of violence was intrinsically linked to that trauma which fueled his insistence on pacifism and how Wizards showed him just casually hitting people after swapping sides with out any issues and that is just very upsetting to me, but that’s a very different rant. 

In conclusion, Wizards has a lot of fun elements to it and can be a very fun watch, but it comes off like fan fiction to me, an alternate universe unconnected to the rest of canon. It doesn’t understand the world building that was established in ToA:Trollhunter and absolutely breaks its own timeline. 

I’ve always pictured the line of Trollhunters stretching back to the Broze Age and the beginning of humanity, a war that has lasted several millennia, long enough that every troll in Trollmarket grew up in war, their lives shaped by it. A war that stretched out into their parents and grandparents generations. Which is completely doable from what we know of troll ages. Gunmar could easily be 4,000 years old (he looks it with all his cracks) and still not beat the oldest troll on record. Merlin always felt inhuman and ancient (centuries long nap and he just has to crack his spine), so he could be far far older than the Arthurian legends and have gone by many names. Also I clearly wasn’t the only one with this idea as if you read the Trollhunters novels or comics based after ToA:Trollhunters those authors assumed as I did. One novel has Jim and the gang go back to 501 AD to see Gunmar lose his eye to Orlagk. The Comics show an early Trollhunter interacting with humans from the stone age. To me this makes so much more sense. Trolls are old and long lived, it only makes sense that their perception of what constituted ancient be very different to what we humans see as ancient. They are also shown to be very slow to change, which is why it makes sense that the Trollhunter mantel is something that has been around longer than the current living trolls.

So anyway, I just really hope the movie doesn’t rely on too much of the nonsense that was shown in Wizards and is a fun romp. I loved full troll Jim and I miss half-troll Jim already. It just feels like his whole sacrifice was meaningless, that by undoing it and showing that humans can fight trolls just fine that it had been for nothing. Its just very disappointing. But that’s just my opinion (but then I’ve always voted for a Jim who can change back and forth and really have one foot in each world). 

[twistedanddecayed]

All Kindsa Trouble

Summary: It’s not often the Winchester’s roll back into town to seek refuge in their safe house but when they do, they bring more questions than answers. Tired of the sexual frustration that’s been building with each flying visit, one drunken phone call is all that’s needed to scratch that long-overdue itch.

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader.

Prompt: “you’re drunk. i’m driving you home.”

Words: 2770

Warnings: oral sex (male), Dean’s smutty mouth, mentions of voyeurism.

A/N: So this is for Lisa’s Christmas challenge/follower celebration. It’s not BETA’d so all mistakes are my own. But I saw this gif and couldn’t not (even though while writing this I pictured him in all that season 9 splendour), which resulted in me hating myself on a whole new level.

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Taking a swig from the half-empty bottle, you savour the delicious burn as you swallow. You’re well on your way to becoming drunk, unsurprising considering you’ve been knocking back the drinks for the most part of the day, but it’s doing nothing to prevent you feeling the chill in the air this evening. You can’t stop the shiver from taking over and you tug your jacket around you a little more as you peer down the street, hoping to spot any oncoming headlights or the distinct engine you’ve come to crave to hear but so far, the road remains deserted and you can’t hear anything from the main adjoining road.

You hadn’t thought Dean would answer, but the temptation to call him had been a little too much and judging by his tone, it was a little too tempting for him to answer too. The bourbon had been whispering dirty and unspeakable things into your ear with each passing hour, cheering you on to press that dial button and rejoiced when you took another shot, said fuck it and listened to the dial tone as you swallowed your pride while waiting for him to answer.

He’d answered quickly, saying your name in a hurry before asking if you were alright. You could barely hear him and so grabbed the bottle you were drinking, stepped out of the bar as you asked him to repeat himself and felt the cool air hit, sobering you enough to hear the slur in your voice when you replied, “I’m fine. Just peachy.”

“Fine my ass,” Dean had growled, “you’re drunk. I’m driving you home. Where are you?”

“I’m sure you remember which bar.” You’d staggered to the wall, feeling everything swaying a little now you were out in the open. He’d told you to stay put before hanging up.

There was something about him that pulled you in. Maybe it’s because both Dean and his brother kept themselves to themselves on the rare occasion they breezed through town, only staying for a week tops before disappearing for months again. The only time they’d leave the property while staying is to go get takeout and more beer - though it wasn’t uncommon to hear the car starting up in the middle of the night and returning just before dawn. Most of the windows were blacked out for complete and utter privacy, they were quiet, never had visitors and their presence brought more questions than they were prepared to answer.

Dean had struck up small talk after catching you off guard, with a rather lacy and expensive lingerie set in your grasp as you were hanging the clean laundry out on the line. He’d rested his arms against the fence, his eyes scanning over your body as he’d run his tongue over his bottom lip before catching it between his teeth.

“I usually have to buy dinner before I get to see those.” He’d quipped and flashed a grin your way. You knew within seconds you were in trouble and your panties were soaked.

He was charming, disgustingly so; complimenting you in one breath and making you want to ride his face in the next. You exchanged flirtatious comments when you’d seen him, marvelled at the way he’d drag his gaze over you, especially when he shouldn’t. You’d caught him on numerous occasions unapologetically watching as you’d dropped your towel after your shower. The first time was a genuine accident, he wasn’t supposed to be back. The house was supposed to be empty and the first time this had happened, you had been left more than red-faced, wishing the ground could open up and swallow you whole to save you from the shame that you’d felt, but you couldn’t forget his reaction.

The way he’d sat forward, dropped the book onto the table beside him and brought the beer bottle to his lips. He’d pulled his gaze away from you momentarily, an act of chivalry, but it was only for a moment and his eyes were back on you once more. You’d knelt to pick up the towel, using it to cover your breasts and letting the rest of it fall down your front, leaving the rest of you exposed. You knew he’d be wanting to see the rest, could now easily picture that naughty lingerie set on you far too clearly, and you’d left him like that, leant forward wanting to see more as you’d drawn the blinds and shut him out. The next few times were not an accident and thinking of Dean slamming his way into the house and fucking you so hard that you’d feel it for days after was how you were able to bring yourself to orgasm for months that followed.

Dean and his brother aren’t the “do you have a cup of sugar?” kind of neighbours but having the two of them there brought a sense of security and safety. Something which proved to be true one night in the local bar. Some jackass who had drunk far too much had decided to get far too handsy, attracting quite a few stares from those surrounding the two of you, yet no-one tried to help. You hadn’t seen Dean enter the bar, but after your fifth refusal to the drunken guy had gone mostly ignored, Dean’s hand had gripped his shoulder, spun him around and connected his fist with his jaw.

Dean had wasted no time in throwing him out, not wanting to make more of a scene than had already been caused before making sure you were OK. He was pumped and more than happy to go back out and finish what he’d started. The veins in his temple and neck had stood out, with the one on his neck demanding to be kissed and fuck did you want to. You were tempted to coax the guy to come back just so you could watch Dean in action once more. Something had switched in him - you’d seen it on his face, the ghost of a smirk on his lips before he’d landed the first punch. He enjoyed it and being honest with yourself, so had you.

Darkness had washed over him and it unnerved you how much you liked it. You’d felt the hot pull within your stomach and your panties became sodden. He’d lost his cool so briefly, with such a calmness that it both alarmed you and made you more aroused than you cared to admit.

He’d made you promise to call him if you were in any sort of trouble and put his number in your cell.

“Is that why you disappear? Too many girls calling in need of your assistance?” You’d tried to joke, though you were eager for any nugget of information he could give about the two of them.

You’d heard Sam scoff behind him and mutter, “you’re not far off with that assumption.” Chuckling at his brother’s comment, Dean wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and replied, “well princess, saving people? That’s kinda our thing.” He didn’t explain further and you didn’t ask.

Until tonight, you hadn’t considered calling as they’d skipped town the day after he gave you his number. You’d heard the purr of Dean’s car pulling up last night and both brothers whisper shouting; deep in an argument that didn’t seem to be ending and certainly, not one which had just begun. They’d slammed into the house and you hadn’t heard from them since, but the beautiful car that you’d pictured Dean fucking you on the backseat of, remained on the driveway before you’d left and that was a good sign.

It wasn’t a long drive from yours to here, nor was it late which meant you’d pulled him from his bed, but the longer you spend sitting outside on the old crumbling brick wall, you’re slowly sobering up. Annoyed, you take several deeper swigs of the burning liquid and sigh. The rumble of the engine alerts you, pulls you from your thoughts and you begin to wonder what the hell you’re going to do now with Dean Winchester when the headlights appear as he turns down the narrow street to where you are

“Whose ass do I need to kick tonight?” he asks as begins to climb out. The businesses here are all closed up for the night, no security cameras are about and the only noise now is from the bar, which is just far enough away to have a bit of privacy but close enough should you need to try and get back there in case anything happened and you needed help. The car door slams and he leans against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he waits for an answer.

“You said I was too drunk to go home alone.” There’s less of a slur to your words now, “there’s no drama tonight. Just you trying to be a hero.”

“Then why’d you call me?” His brows knit together, and he looks back down the street towards the direction you’d come from. It’s still quiet, with no one about but it’s in the wrong part of town. It’s dark and dingy and perfect for public fucking.

“I was horny.” You reply simply with a shrug as you lift the bottle to your lips as you watch him.

“Horny? Yo-you pulled me away because you wanted to get your kicks like some teenager?” He growls and pushes away from the car before yanking the bottle from your hand. “Give me that,” he says while he glances down at the label and nods approvingly before taking a mouthful. “What did you think was gonna happen? I’d come pick you up, you’d tease again like your damn window show and then walk away like nothing happened?”

“You seemed to like those damn window shows.” You bite back, pushing from the wall to stare up at him.

A smirk curves his lips, and you hear the clang of his belt being unbuckled. He puts the whiskey bottle down on the wall and unfastens his jeans quickly, “darlin’ that smart mouth is gonna get you into all kindsa trouble.”

“It’s a good thing you and Sam like saving people then isn’t it?” you know you shouldn’t have replied but you couldn’t help yourself. His hand is on your shoulder, shoving you down onto your knees, while his other hand pulls free his thick cock and strokes over his shaft a few times, causing pre-cum to dot the slit.

“Ah, but Sammy ain’t here tonight sweetheart, now open up.” He barely gives you time to adjust before his cock fills your mouth, knocking you back onto the heels of your feet and has you gripping his thighs for support as you’re almost knocked off balance. You reach up, your hand curling around the base of his cock and without him prompting you to do so, you begin to sink your lips down his cock, swirling your tongue over the tip as you drag your mouth back to the head before repeating. He leans back against the car, his head turning to peer down the road as a commotion sounds outside the bar. “Not my fucking problem.” He hisses as one of his hands fists your hair.

The moan that escapes his lips travels directly to your pussy, making you shift your weight though never breaking pace as you continue to suck his dick. You let go of his thigh and begin to unbutton your jeans, desperate to satisfy the need to climax. The hand gripping your hair loosens ever so briefly as he gives the back of your head a warning slap, “take it all and don’t even fuckin’ think about touching yourself.”

You take more of him as you relax your jaw, enabling him to slip past the back of your mouth and nudge into your throat and hold him there for a moment. He pulses within your throat, his grip on your hair tightens and his hips buck, making you gag around him. Your throat tries to expel him immediately and tears threaten to spill from your lashes and you’re inhaling as much air through your nose as you can as you briefly panic when Dean doesn’t hold up or pull out. Your hand tightens into a fist, trapping your thumb between your fingers and palm and squeeze, bypassing your gag reflex now as you take him further into your throat, your nose pressing to his pubic bone as you take every inch he has to offer. His hips pull back, slipping himself from your lips as his expression darkens as he stares down at you as he bends to your level and grips your jaw, his thumb smears over your lips.

“Now, you listen to me. You don’t ring me up like a cheap-ass booty call and then try this shit. You want to be fucked like a whore? I’m going to need to hear those noises baby. If my dick is in your throat, I’ve earned those gags. I’ve earned the sound of you choking on it and I won’t have you refusing to give them to me.” Smirking, you flick your tongue over his thumb and suck it into your mouth. “You’re going to open, you’re going to give me what I want and once I’ve finished with that pretty little mouth of yours, you’re going to thank me for it.”

Dean stands, his thumb pulls from your mouth with a wet pop before reaching around to the back of your head. You obediently open and he wastes no time in slipping his cock back into your waiting mouth. He provides no build-up. You slacken your jaw the best you can as he thrusts his hips to you. Spit gathers at the corners of your mouth, your eyes begin to water and spill down your cheeks at the same time as your saliva running tracks down your chin and dripping onto your chest.

“So eager earlier for it. And now look at you.”

Your throat contracts around him and all you can do is grip his thighs and waist as he fucks your mouth as though it’s your cunt. His eyes are only on you, watching his thick length penetrate you, feeling the tightening of your throat around his head. He no longer gives a shit if he’s caught. You give him what he desires; the sound of him hitting the back of your throat and each gag as he holds himself there for a moment or two longer than he should. Your nails sink into his thighs, your vision blurs and your chest heaves as you try to breathe.

He pulls his cock from your mouth, just long enough for you to gulp in several large breaths before he’s pushing back into your mouth once more, filling it completely. When you moan, the vein that presses against your tongue pulses, his cock twitches and he hisses. With each drive of his hips, you hollow your cheeks as his balls slap against your chin.

“You’re gonna swallow everything I give you.” He demands, his hands fisting your hair harder. You groan around him, wincing at the pain that shoots through your scalp and the hands that rest against his thighs ball into fists of your own. His eyes lock with yours as his thrusts become erratic and within moments, he’s burying his cock as deeply into your throat as possible, your nose squashing against his skin as he empties everything into you.

Pulling from you, he pulls his clothes back into place and begins to zip himself back up as you get to your feet, wiping the spit from your cheeks and chin as you take him in. “C’mere.” He gestures to you with two fingers and you step towards him. “Spread them,” he instructs, and you do so. Your button remains undone from your feeble attempt at pleasure-seeking and he makes quick work of it, slipping his hand into your panties and pushing two fingers between your soaking folds. The sharp intake of breath and slow whine of his name brings a grin to his face as he thrusts his fingers into you for a few moments before pulling his hand free and pushing them between his lips. You watch his cheek sucks in as he licks them clean and his grin becomes bigger. “I always hoped you’d be good at taking dick and if that fine tasting pussy is anything like your mouth, then you’re in for one hell of a ride tonight.”