#honestly it’s the least they can do after everything they’ve put him through let’s be real

[violet-witch-6]

Gonna be real, my first time watching THAT scene I honestly wasn’t sure how they were ever gonna patch things up because I can’t even imagine the pain of standing in Crowley’s place after 6,000 years of loving someone in silence, trying to show them who you are at every opportunity, painstakingly chipping away at the delusion they’ve bought into since the beginning (more than you ever did) in order to show them the truth—to show them who you are (who the two of you could be together) —and then just as you’ve finally worked up the courage to lay it all out there and toss the dice hoping (with what, for the first time, you’re starting to believe are less than doomed odds) that they’ll love you back and that it will be enough—only for all of it to be dragged out from under you because they look you in the eye and all but tell you that they never understood you at all. They weren’t listening. And, sure they want what you want (to be together), they love you back (still unspoken but legible in the way they glow at the thought that they might still save you) (as if you need saving) (as if you’d want it)—but not as you are. They think the change they ask of you would be received as a grace and the betrayal of that is gut wrenching in a way that no flat out rejection could be, I think. If I were Crowley, I can’t imagine how I’d come back from that.

But then I watched the scene again. The moments after that betrayal. Once Crowley’s put his glasses back on, raised his defenses and sounded the retreat. I wondered, watching the scene again, how it could ever reach the point where the kiss made sense when they were already so torn apart. But the thing is that no matter how wrong Aziraphale was to want things to go back to the “way they were”, everything that led him to that conclusion comes from the thing Crowley loves most about him: his goodness. Aziraphale is good in a way that heaven is not, and Crowley knows that, but Aziraphale still hasn’t learned that lesson. He wants so desperately still to believe in god and heaven and the ineffable plan and even though it’s that desire that’s led him to hurt Crowley, I don’t think Crowley can completely begrudge him. By the time Crowley’s walking out of the book shop, the betrayal has already faded—not gone, but less than when compared to his sadness for Aziraphale and what his angel is going to go through when heaven lets him down (again)—assuming that it doesn’t just break him.

And the kiss—that fucking kiss (be still my beating heart)—that was Crowley planting a seed. “I know better than you do” he says and he does because Crowley has always been more honest with himself than Mr. “Master class in self delusion” A. Z. Fell. Aziraphale is about to be more alone and more lost than he has been in 6,000 years, so Crowley needed to make 100% clear to him where solid ground was. Aziraphale won’t be able to rationalize this away or hide behind propriety because it can only mean one thing and that is that he is in love with a demon whose on his own side with no interest in ever rejoining the heavenly host because heaven is not the epitome of goodness or love that he so desperately wants to believe it is. It’s not even capable of being that—no matter how hard Aziraphale tries to bend it back into what he thinks is it’s natural shape (because isn’t that what he wants so desperately to do as chief archangel? To make heaven the place he’s always thought it was?). Crowley really said “whatever you do next, do it knowing I love you”. He said “I’m done letting you ignore this.” And I get it. Cards on the table means cards on the table. No more half measures no more dancing around it—any of it. If Aziraphale wants to walk into the belly of the beast, then the least Crowley can do is make sure he’s doing it with his eyes wide open.

[head-shoulders-knees-pain]

Day 19: Angel Devil x Gn!Reader - Phone Sex

fandom: Chainsaw Man

word count: 500+

cw: 18+, dom reader, sub character, phone sex, comfort minimal hurt(?), mutual masturbation, accidental exhibitionism

tag: @ficsforgaza

When I first joined Public Safety, if you had told me that I would be dating a devil, I probably would’ve laughed in your face and asked to have whatever you were having cause that’s crazy.

After years on the job and getting put into Tokyo Special Division 4, I guess I’m crazy because it happened. I’m also crazy lucky because I got the best devil there is, Angel.

I open the door to my apartment and sigh, honestly just thinking of them puts a smile on my face.

It was a struggle to get here, they still don’t want to touch but they’ve lowered their walls enough to call them mine.

It’s a shame we were put on different missions today, hopefully I can convince Makima to let me do like Power and Denji do with Aki and let him stay at my place…hehe maybe a little too soon to be moving in together but at least he’d get out more that way.

The buzz from my phone pulls me away from my thoughts, as well as a groan when I see Makima’s name. Great, hopefully nothing's wrong and she just needed to check something.

I answer the call with a polite tone, “Ms. Makima, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Is everything alright ma’am?”

“Actually, a situation has come up and I need your assistance.” Fuck, what else should I have expected?

I move back to the front door, going to put on my shoes before I’m caught off, “Stay where you are. I just need you to stay on the line.”

That doesn’t make anything more clear for me, “Ma’am? What does that-”

“The Angel Devil was hit with another devil’s powers today during their mission and is in quarantine.” What!?

“Ma’am!” “No. Nobody can come into contact with the devil until they calm down.” “But-” “The power they were hit with is non-lethal to them but is causing them distress. We believe you can help by talking to them through it.”

I take a deep breath to calm myself, “So Angel isn’t hurt? Just…what kind of devil were they chasing?”

“They were hunting a devil known as the Lust Devil, and we believe their attack had an almost aphrodisiac effect on the Angel Devil but we cannot be confident that it won’t cause them to harm others so we are monitoring the situation as it passes through them.”

“So…you want me to calm them down? How can I do that through the phone?”

“I am aware the two of you are closer than most should be with devils, but if you can get a handle on the situation then I will overlook this oversight-” well now I can’t refuse, not that I was anyways- “From what we’ve observed, normally the effect wares off once the individual reaches sexual climax, however, it appears that the Angel Devil is unable to.”

Hand up to my ear, room silent, and I’m not completely sure I still heard her right.

After a moment of silence, she pipes back up on the phone. “Are you still there?”

“Uh- yeah no sorry I’m still here just…didn’t expect that-like at all.” I walk over to the couch and flop down on it.

“Ah, well if you’re a virgin then I can simply-“

I jolt up in my seat, cutting her off, “Whether or not I’m a virgin means nothing, I’m helping him. You just caught me off guard Makima.” “So you believe you can-“ “yes please stop talking and just- just let me talk to him.”

The line goes silent and I slump back into the couch again. I listen to her heels clack on the floor, low muttering in the background, before I hear a hard click that cuts to panting.

“Angel?” I softly call out.

A gasp is heard over the line before some quiet cries are made.

“Oh my little dove, what’s wrong?”

I hear more sniffles, until “It hurts, they say I have to fix it but I c-can’t.”

His sobs break my heart, “Oh love, I’m so sorry this happened. I’d be there if I could-“

“No!” He screams before groaning, “Don’t wanna hurt you..”

“I know, that’s why I’m gonna help you from here, okay?”

I hear movement from his end but I can’t tell from what, “Baby if you’re nodding I can’t see it, you’re gonna have to talk to me too.”

“Okay…I don’t want to do it alone though. Can you make it better?”

He sounds like he’s almost whining, how could I refuse such a request?

I swallow before responding, “Sure, I’ll do it too. Pretend you’re doing it to me if that helps, or that it’s my hands doing it to you, okay?”

“Hmh, what first?”

“Well normally I’d warm up to it but you need to finish if we want to stop the pain, so can you strip for me?”

He murmurs out something a mix of yeah and okay before I hear more movement on his end, I quickly slip off my pants and underwear too.

“Nhh-now what?”

“Breathe for me dove, tell me what I’m working with.”

I hear him breathing heavy as he answers, “I’m hard, so hard it hurts. Reddish and wet at the tip but that’s it.”

“You’re doing so good already, following my directions. Now spit into your hand.”

After I hear it on his end, I repeat the action in my side. “Now, bring your hand to the top of your dick and slowly cover your length with spit and precum.”

I lean my head against the couch as my hand touches myself, other hand holding the phone up to my ear.

As I breathe into the phone, I hear his breath hitching before slightly turning into whimpers.

“It’s okay baby, how’s it feeling?”

“Hot, but- aah -good.”

Fuck. “Fuck, that’s it. Wrap your hand fully and pump up and down. You’re doing so good, my love.”

His whimpers turn into moans and I start to feel the weight come off my shoulders more so I stroke myself faster.

“Good boy, keep going. Up and down, you can switch hands if you’re getting tired.”

His moans get louder before turning into whines, “I-it’s not enough.”

“You can do it, just keep stroking. Don’t stop.”

I stroke faster and moan louder, “Shit- Angel, listen to my voice, can you hear how good you’re making me feel? You’re doing that.”

The speaker echoes his cries, “Please~ I wanna cum, how can I cum?”

“Reach your other hand down and twist the two while pumping. Keep picking up speed until I say you can cum.”

I can hear the difference when he does, unbashful beautiful moans.

I start to pant as I feel myself growing close, luckily he’s doesn’t sound too far away either.

His cries are a mix of moans, begging for more, calling out my name, or pleas to cum.

“Angel, cum.” I demand.

His scream of my name pushes me over as I spill into my hand.

I lay back on the couch, catching my breath as I listen to him breathing too.

“Angel? Do you feel any better?”

A hard click cuts in, “The Angel devil passed out, but seems to have recovered from the attack. Thank you for your efforts, I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” Makima then cuts the line.

[tellyouily]

i'll take you all the way

dnf - fluff - late night conversations - 792 words

just dnf talking about silly things late at night and being very soft about it as per usual

my first dip into writing in a long while – i hope you enjoy!! :)

-

Credits start to roll on George’s laptop screen, and Dream lets his eyes fall shut to the familiar outro music. George’s warmth leaves him when he sits up to move the laptop onto the floor, and Dream is tired enough to try to pull him back immediately.

“Okay, chill,” George huffs, but Dream ignores it, burying his face in the back of George’s neck as soon as he’s lying down again.

“What even is that show?” Dream mumbles, his words muffled. “It’s ass.”

“It’s not,” George insists. They’ve had this discussion before, and Dream usually doesn’t win. Either way, he is happy to watch almost anything that George wants if it’s late enough and the day has been long enough.

George shuffles around and pushes at Dream’s shoulder gently, urging him to lay down flat so George can lay his head on his chest. “I think you like it subconsciously.”

Dream hums. Maybe he does—he honestly couldn’t name one detail of any episode they’ve watched. Mostly because he has been half– if not fully asleep for all of them. He closes his eyes and absentmindedly slips just his fingertips under the band of George’s sleep shorts.

“Dream.”

“Mm?”

“Do you think people actually have good sex on their honeymoons?”

“Wh–” The absurdity of the question makes Dream laugh despite the exhaustion in his limbs. “I don’t know—how would I know that?”

He can only assume that he missed something to do with this in the episode, but if he’s honest it could just as well be taken completely out of thin air. George shrugs, “You know things.”

Dream tries to picture it—the first night together between a married couple. “I mean, I’d assume not,” he says eventually.

“Why?”

Dream sinks slightly into the hand playing with his hair, feeling so comfortable that he could slip away to sleep in less than a minute if he wanted.

“‘Cause you’d be tired from the wedding and the dinner and all of that,” he replies anyway, because George asked.

“And there’d be so much pressure,” he adds.

George hums thoughtfully.

“Plus… you’d probably both be super drunk, and like, overexcited.”

Dream fidgets with the fabric hem between his fingertips, his thumb grazing the soft skin of George’s stomach. He’s been getting toned this past year and Dream is as obsessed with it as he is with everything George-related: very .

“Also, some people save their first time for their wedding night, right? And that sex just… can’t be good. There’s no way.”

George snorts, which makes Dream laugh, too.

“Why is that funny?”

“Just is,” George says with another shrug. “Why do you know everything?”

Dream noses at soft curls. “I don’t, idiot.” He slides his hand across George’s stomach, “I just know the answers to your stupid questions.”

George laughs, carding his fingers through Dream’s hair and trailing them down to his ear, his jaw. His thumb ghosts Dream’s bottom lip, pressing into it once.

“We’d both fall asleep early,” he predicts after a moment.

Dream smiles, because George is probably right. “Yeah.”

Silence envelops them then, and Dream feels like he’s punishing himself when he reluctantly draws his hand away from George and pokes one leg out from the duvet. He turns to George, “I have to go put Patches in her room."

George sighs and stretches, and Dream leans in and kisses his face at random before getting up. "I'll be right back."

The tiles in the hallway are cold beneath his feet and it might just be how tired he is, but not being in his bed right now hits him like physical pain. It hurts enough to make him hurry up, beelining for the room he knows Patches is in.

His office is her favorite room in the house as much as it’s his least favorite right now. Both because it’s a room without his warm bed that currently has George in it, and because Fusion is slowly making him lose his mind. He finds Patches curled up into herself in her usual spot in his office chair, and lifts her carefully into his arms to take her to her room.

She would wake them all up at four a.m. if they let her roam free, so getting her a room was the compromise. That is, a room with food, water, a litter box, soft blankets, and a cat door she hasn’t realized (yet) that she can use whenever she wants.

Back in his own room, Dream has never been so ready to let sleep overtake him. He slips back under the sleep-warm covers, and smiles when George – already dead asleep – immediately melts to his side.

If their honeymoon ends anything like this, he couldn't be happier.

[diazsdimples]

Wasn’t sure how mean I was gonna be today but I can’t resist Alfie do lots of Alfie sentences please and thank you 😘💜

👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼

And one more for luck:

👨‍🍼

Here’s the old Alfie art for motivation 💜

39 Alfie sentences!!! Your wish is, as always, my command. And I LOVE the Alfie art, thank you so much ���� you get two bonus sentences for that 😊

“Anyways!” he interjects before either of them can come up with another reason to roast him. “Tommy and I actually had reason behind coming and finding you.” “Ah, are you looking for sage advice from your elder? What can I help you two with?” Bobby sets down the tea towel he’d been holding and places both hands on the counter, an expectant but friendly look on his face. “Well actually, we more wanted to ask something of you,” Tommy explains. “Or, Evan did.” Bobby’s gaze settles on Buck, and he swallows thickly. It really shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking to ask this of Bobby, considering everything they’ve been though together, but in all of these years, neither of them have ever put words to this dynamic between. Everyone else in the station has been happy to – muttering “father and son” at least once a week – but it’s not something either Buck or Bobby have openly acknowledged. Until now, at least. “Tommy and I, uh, we realised the other day that Alfie doesn’t really have any grandparents near him. I’m not really in contact with Mom and Dad these days, and Tommy obviously hasn’t spoken to his parents in years.” Buck watches as Bobby’s expression changes, initially his brows furrowed inquisitively before smoothing out as a look of understanding passes over him. Like he knows where this is going. Buck takes a step back, searching for Tommy’s hand. As their fingers lace together, he feels his anxiety seep from him, strength taken from his husband’s presence. “S-so we were – we were hoping that maybe – if it’s okay with you guys of course – th-that you and Athena could be like his grandparents? If you’d be comfortable with that?” The words are barely out of Buck’s mouth before Bobby’s arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He can feel Bobby’s fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as he clutches Buck to him, as though he’s afraid he’ll disappear. He’s released almost as quickly, but Bobby keeps a hand on his shoulder. There are tears in his eyes, mirroring the ones threatening to spill in Buck’s own, and Bobby reaches up to wipe them away before speaking. “I would be honoured to. Honestly, you two have no idea how much that means to me, and how much I’m sure it’ll mean to Athena. We both love that little boy so much, and you two as well. It means the world that you asked.” “Well we figured, what with all the jokes about you being like Evan’s father, that we’d make you officially Alfie’s grandpa. Seems like the least we could do to repay everything you’ve done for us,” Tommy says, his hand settling on the small of Buck’s back. Bobby laughs wetly, taking another swipe at his eyes. “Yeah well, someone had to parent that kid. You should have seen him back then, Tommy.” “Oh, I’ve heard the stories.” Tommy smirks and he presses a cheeky kiss to Buck’s temple. Buck curls into Tommy, resting his head against Tommy’s shoulder. He feels light and floaty, the relief that had surged through him after Bobby’s response akin to helium. He’s about to open his mouth to thank Bobby when Jee comes barrelling into the kitchen, all limbs and pre-schooler excitement. “UNCLE BUCK!” she yells, launching herself at him, and he catches her around the middle, hoisting her up into his arms. “Daddy says to tell you guys to get your lazy asses into the lounge so we can open presents!” “That is not what I said!” Chimney yells from the lounge, and Jee covers her mouth with her hand, letting out a little giggle. “Yes it is,” she whispers conspiratorially in Buck’s ear. “But he told me to say it nicer.”

obligatory @hippolotamus tag

Make Me Write!!!

[bomber-grl]

KQJSKSJSKBJABRO I'M NERVOUS

You could do one of Hiro Hamada with an s/o with mommy or daddy issues pleeease??? O⁠_⁠o

Hiro x Reader w mommy/daddy issues

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader

Honestly your issues with your parent(s) never really mattered but Hiro knew something was up

It was with little things like when you’d see a mother/father happily with her/his children

Or something as simple as when they’d be mentioned

He never brought it up because ..

1. It wasn’t really his place

2 . He wouldn’t want to talk about his parents either as it wasn’t exactly a happy topic

So he understood that much

But then push comes to shove when you show up to his house in the middle of the night and he’s forced to bring you in while (painfully) lying to Cass

Acting as if he doesn’t actively lie to her

It’s not exactly a good look since you’re dating but that thought was soon overshadowed when he saw the state you were in

Regardless, he let you stay over and you two began just chilling while binging whatever snacks he had

Then he asked if you’d wanna talk about it

Took some time, but then you surrendered

Thus began the rant about your parent(s) and what they’ve done and put you through and even what they haven’t done when raising you

I mean Hiro was shocked to say the least

Cass was the closest person to a parental figure to him so thinking of her doing any of the things you just said

Well it’s shocking

He’s tempted to just say you can have his aunt (or share to console you)

But he knows it’s best to just listen without giving input

Then you apologize for it and honestly how did he not see it?

You’d either have to beg your parent(s) to come to any events or you had to beg them to even go since they were so strict

It was such a hassle for you and if the previous incidents didn’t make it clear, your rant definitely did

Anyway

After that night hiro really made it so that you’d feel apart of the family

(Maybe he told Cass about it with permission from you)

Everything he does is basically to make sure you can have a new parental figure worth the title

And although you do notice you make sure to go along

Partially because you want to go along with Hiro

But maybe it won’t hurt to indulge in the unconditional love you never got to recieve

It’s time to get it elsewhere (aka from Cass)

And honestly? She loves you

So much

Not only have you been a good friend to Hiro but the way Hiro talks about you really makes her happy

Even if you can’t rely on that parent then atleast you can rely on Cass

She’s not the step mom, she’s the mom that stepped up /j

Anyway this sorta turned into a Cass supremacy post because she’s so supportive that she deserves credit for it alright?

(Saying this cuz if my nephew got my other nephew jailed then I’d be pretty pissed 💀 miss girls a saint)

[spicyraeman]

ooh for the tav asks maybe 2, 4, 10, 22 and 56 for Emra and Virranan (and any other tav you wanna ramble about) :)

Ty for the ask! This one got a bit long so its going under a cut 😅

[Tav Ask Game]

2. What is their class (+ subclass) and why did you choose it?

Virranan: Gloomstalker Ranger, originally they were a beastmaster, but as I fleshed out their backstory gloomstalker just ended up fitting better. As for why I chose it, Vir was my first tav and in every game where I have the option I will always start with a ranger/bow user.

Emra: Great Old One Warlock, picked because of an old convo me and my buddy had about the insane 600ft eldritch blast you can get in Dnd and a hypothetical sniper character you could make with a gun as the focus.

4. Is there a reason why your Tav starts out as Level 1?

I haven't really thought about it much, but its probably mostly just the tadpole for both of them with a mix of Emra being out of his element and Vir being drunk enough to kill 3 grown men before his abduction.

10. What was your Tav like as a child?

Virranan: Before their father's death they were a quiet, curious, and incredibly observant child. Most of their time was spent reading or people watching or wandering the woods around their house. The only friend they had was their raven familiar Quothe, but they didn’t care too much as other kids tended to think they were…odd.

The year after the death of their father, she became despondent and spoke little, he spent most of his time to himself and was content to simply watch the world happen around them.

Emra: An incredibly unassuming child, he tried his best to blend into the woodwork. Being the top dog of the creche meant a lot of pressure and falling to the bottom got you killed so staying in the middle of the pack was his primary goal. 

22. What is your Tav's first impression of the other companions (Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Wyll ...)

Virranan

Astarion: Trying to pull a knife on them isn't the best first impression, but it is familiar. She has a feeling that they might have a lot in common, maybe a bit too much.

Gale: Reminds him of the men they used to escort, upper class and too talkative for their own good (even if she actually enjoys listening).

Karlach: Big, loud, and from what she can see, completely honest, probably the most trustworthy out of the lot so far.

Wyll: There's more to this man than meets the eye, he’s too good to be true, nobody acts like that unless they’ve got something to hide. He does seem genuinely nice though so they'll try to put that suspicion to the side till he lets something slip.

Emra

Astarion: Bit of a bastard but who isn’t and it's not like this is the first time he’s had a knife pulled on him so no harm no foul. Dealing with him is like herding cats though, which he could definitely do without.

Gale: Talks way to much but at least he's got an okay voice to listen to, and a wizard is always a good this to have on your side.

Karlach: It’s been a long time since he’s almost been eye-to-eye with someone, seems a kindred spirit and like she’s got a good head on her shoulders. 

Wyll: He seems like a genuinely good man, but men who burn as bright as him burn out just as quickly, and he's got a sneaking suspicion he's got a secret something to keep him going, maybe the same something as him.

56. What did your Tav think of the Mindflayer colony?

Virranan: Not much honestly. Disgusted? Mildly, but this is around the time when they realize things are truly getting serious and they’re too busy focusing on the tasks at hand to take in the entirety of the horrors that surround them. Even thinking back on it all he can really remember is freeing Zevlor and Mizora, and killing Ketheric, everything else is a messy blur.

Emra: That place is definitely making it into his top 10 worst places he’s been. He just tries to go through the motions to get where he needs to be without getting covered in too much gore. The one redeeming moment was getting to see Lae’zel accidentally drench Astarion with the gore shoot.

[bloody-bee-tea]

IntiMarch 2024 Day 21 - Leiser

The prompt for this was "I want to thank you"

Suguru can already feel his jaw ache before he even sets foot onto the Gojo estate and not even Satoru’s hand in his is any help.

He hates these visits; hates how their life is being dissected and found lacking by people who have never been happy a single moment in their entire life and most of all he hates how coming here stresses Satoru out so much that he barely sleeps for days before and after these visits.

They wouldn’t even be coming here if it was left to their choice, but Satoru’s family has made it crystal clear that they have the power to absolutely destroy the life they’ve built for themselves and he doesn’t put it past them to do it, too.

So they have to come here once every four months and pretend that everything is fine and that they don’t want to burn down the entire estate.

It’s getting harder the longer these visits go on.

“Breathe,” Satoru says, squeezing his hand and Suguru takes a deep breath.

“I hate it here,” he whispers, which makes Satoru laugh slightly.

“I know. Can’t say I fancy this place myself. But it’ll be fine.”

“Nothing about this will be fine,” Suguru grumbles under his breath because he long ago abandoned hope that they could have one civil dinner. 

He’s not even waiting for a nice one anymore; he’d be content with civil but even that seems to be unachievable these days.

Satoru’s family sucks.

Greetings are stiff and awkward and when they make it through the appetiser without a single word spoken, Suguru knows that something is up.

Normally they would be laying in on them by now, berating them for living their own lives instead of adhering to the family rules and the fact that Satoru’s parents haven’t said a single word at all is putting Suguru on edge.

Satoru on the other hand seems entirely unbothered; he’s happily digging into his food and treating it more like a main course than the appetiser it really is and the sight is like a balm to Suguru’s soul. He puts part of his own food on Satoru’s plate, not being able to stomach a bite more of this in the tense silence, and when Satoru gives him a bright smile in return, Suguru feels his nerves settling.

That is until the main course is being brought in and Satoru’s father clears his throat.

“We wanted to thank you,” he says, his eyes fixed on Suguru when he looks over and Suguru tenses up.

That is so not something he wants to hear from these people.

“For what?” he asks, forcing himself to at least pretend to be polite even though he’s missing by a mile, going by the amused curve of Satoru’s mouth.

“For taming him,” Satoru’s father says with a nod towards Satoru and for a moment Suguru thinks he must have heard wrong. 

There is no way he just said that, after all.

“He used to be feral, like an animal, always yapping, always making noise and causing trouble, biting the hand that feeds him. Not anymore, though, and we all agree that we have you to thank for that. We’re not sure how you did it, what methods you used, but they were certainly effective. And you have our thanks for that.”

Satoru’s father sounds honestly pleased, as if the words he just uttered don’t make bile rise in Suguru’s throat and he puts his chopsticks down more harshly than probably necessary.

Suguru opens his mouth to let these people know exactly what he thinks about this, when Satoru’s hand comes down on his thigh, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Thanks,” Satoru brightly says, giving his most pleasant smile to his parents. “The method he used was love, not that you’d know anything about that.”

His voice is so cheerful that it almost makes Suguru smile, before he remembers the absolutely horrid things his father just said and then the anger is back.

“Satoru,” his father warningly says and the gleam in his eyes tells Suguru that he wants him to argue, if only so that he can yell at Satoru, if only so he can be reassured that Satoru is still a fuck-up in his eyes. 

Satoru’s parents really are so fucked up.

“Now, there are two choices,” Satoru goes on, completely ignoring his father’s glare and staying remarkably calm. “Either we take the rest of dinner in silence, like it was meant to be, or we leave for now. Your choice.”

“I see you couldn’t fix his insubordination,” Satoru’s father grumbles towards Suguru. “Maybe teach him not to talk back to his elders at one point.”

“Maybe if the elders showed any respect he wouldn’t feel the need to,” Suguru snaps back and then turns to Satoru. “I guess we’re leaving for now.”

“Remember what leaving could mean for you,” Satoru’s father reminds them, noticeably colder than when he praised Suguru just moments ago but Suguru couldn’t care less.

“We’re allowed to miss one dinner per year,” he stiffly gives back. “Consider it this one.”

Satoru’s father makes an offended sound but Suguru couldn’t care any less about that. He just needs to get out of this godforsaken house before he tears it all down and makes things unnecessarily difficult for the both of them.

“Let’s go, Satoru.”

“Gladly,” Satoru says with a smile and doesn’t spare one glance for his parents.

They don’t talk on the way back to their apartment and that’s fine. It’s not as if there’s something to say anyway. They both know that Satoru’s parents are the absolute fucking worst and that nothing they said is true so there’s no need to reassure the other of that. They made the decision to leave together, so there’s no need to apologise for that. And Satoru knows that Suguru loves him no matter what his stupid fucking family says, so there’s no need to say that either.

It’s good, being quiet with each other, even though a very tiny voice in Suguru’s head won’t shut up about how Satoru has changed since their teenager days, how he really has gotten more quiet over the years and if maybe what Suguru thought to be a good thing is actually a bad thing.

He tells that voice to shut up as best as he can, because he honestly trusts that Satoru would have told him if he overstepped some lines or forced him to do something he didn’t like and since that never happened, Suguru simply has to be content with the knowledge that it’s a normal change Satoru went through.

And Satoru doesn’t seem unhappy, so Suguru really shouldn’t worry all too much about this.

It isn’t until they reached their home, until they changed into more comfortable clothes and are cuddled up on the couch, take-out food on the way, that Satoru speaks.

“You know, he’s right actually,” he softly says and presses closer to Suguru. “And I wanted to thank you.”

“He’s right?” Suguru demands to know, completely disregarding the second part of his statement. “How can you even say that? He’s a fucking horrible human being and nothing he has ever said about you is true!”

“But this is, Suguru, and it’s not a bad thing. I used to be all the things he said.”

“He called you a feral animal!” Suguru reminds him because he cannot believe what he’s hearing right now.

“May I remind you that I did bit you the second day we knew each other?” Satoru gently reminds him and then huffs out a laugh. “You cried because you were so scared you’re going to get rabies.”

Okay, fair, Suguru thinks and laughs as well, burying his face in Satoru’s hair.

“I still don’t like the way he talked about you.”

“Me neither, but—” Satoru wriggles around until he can sling his arms around Suguru’s middle and press kisses to his chin. “He still wasn’t wrong. I used to be all of the things he said and sometimes even worse. That only changed with you.”

Suguru goes cold at that.

“I did not—domesticate you,” he hisses out because just the thought makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“No, that’s not what I meant, not at all. And it’s not as if you used any methods, as if there’s anything you could tell my parents that you did. Like I said at that table—it’s your love that changed me.”

“Huh?” Suguru intelligently asks because he doesn’t get it.

How can his love change Satoru this much?

“I used to be loud and brash and rude and annoying because no one was paying attention to me. My parents only cared when I exceeded their expectations—which I could never do because no matter what I did they always expected more. Apart from that, they only cared when I embarrassed them or otherwise brought shame to the family, as they liked to call it.”

“Oh god, I can imagine how you did that,” Suguru groans out because Satoru’s mischievous side makes so much more sense now.

“What I’m trying to say is that I had to be loud for them to notice me; otherwise they would look right past me. If I wasn’t causing problems or being exceptional they wouldn’t notice me. Dinners were always silent unless I yapped on, like my father called it. It’s not as if a whole lot of talking ever happened in that household. I’m not even sure when my parents last spoke to each other,” Satoru explains and Suguru pulls him closer to himself.

Satoru has never talked this much about his family and Suguru gets why. It’s not a nice topic, that’s for sure.

“So what’s changed for you?” he wants to know because something definitely has changed.

Satoru is no longer constantly talking, vying for attention or otherwise making sure he’s being heard. And Suguru has a hard time believing that his love could be the reason for that.

“You. You changed me,” Satoru says and smiles up at him. “I know you see me. I know that no matter what I do, you’re aware of me. You don’t ignore me if I’m not annoying. I don’t have to hang off you every second of every day to make you remember that I am still here. You always know that I’m there.”

“Satoru,” Suguru whispers out, suddenly feeling choked up.

“It’s because you love me, just like I am, even loud and brash, but also quiet and relaxed and for that, I want to thank you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Suguru chokes out, having to hold back tears because this is really not something Satoru should thank him for. Not now, not ever.

“With you I can,” Satoru teases him and moves away, so he can take Suguru’s face into his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Suguru immediately gives back, even if his voice wobbles dangerously but this is something that can never go without an answer, no matter what.

“I know. Thank you.”

“No, Satoru,” Suguru vehemently says and cups Satoru’s face in his hands in return. “I should thank you for allowing me in, for giving me a chance, for letting me love you. And for you loving me as well. I wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, I know, you’d be off way worse,” Satoru teasingly says, but there’s nothing teasing in the way Suguru nods.

“I would be, yes,” he agrees, because he doesn’t even want to imagine where he would be if Satoru hadn’t been there for him all this time.

He definitely wouldn’t be this happy, that much Suguru knows for sure.

“Suguru!” Satoru exclaims and goes a lovely shade of red, because for all the years they’ve spent together, he still hasn’t learned how to take a compliment from Suguru.

“Satoru!” Suguru gives back, smiling brightly and pulling Satoru close for a kiss. “I am very happy to have you,” he whispers against Satoru’s lips and Satoru goes lax against him.

“That’s my line,” he complaints, but he nuzzles the side of Suguru’s face, clearly more than content.

“It can be our line,” Suguru softly gives back and smiles when Satoru agrees.

“That sounds good.”

And even that is an understatement, because in Suguru’s mind, that sounds perfect.

There is this German song called "Leiser" which is about a bad relationship where the singer goes quieter and quieter the more time passes because their partner is not paying attention to them, but I always thought it would be so nice to find someone you can be quiet with, and I think that holds especially true with Satoru.

[samcscreams]

I got this idea from @krikeymate here

“Are you sure you really want to do this?” Sam asked as she walked hand in hand with her younger sister 

Tara just looked up at Sam and shook her head with the biggest grin on her face. 

“Okay big girl. Go give it your all” Sam kissed Tara on the forehead as she ushered her off. 

Tara had recently become infatuated with soccer and insisted she try out for one of the local YMCA teams. Of course their mother was nowhere to be found so Sam took it upon herself to take Tara to try outs. 

Sam’s chest burned as she watched Tara run with the other kids, as she was already a head small than most of the players. If Tara got hurt Sam would never forgive herself for taking her to tryouts. But those big brown eyes, how could she say no. 

That was two years ago.

Tara was now a star player, the fastest on her team. She mainly played striker after the one incident where they put her in defense and some kid from the other team rammed her so hard she flew out of the field. Tara was completely fine but Sam had a “talk” with the coach after that. 

Sam was at every game and practice with anything and everything Tara could need. Snacks? Check. Water? Check. Ice pack, Sun screen, extra inhalers? Check, Check, and Check. Some of the parents eventually try and talk to Sam but she’s not there to socialize. She just wants to watch her baby sister be the star that she is. A couple parents are almost intimidated by how prepared and supportive Sam is. How is she already a better parent than they are? 

The whistle blows and that’s half. The team hustles in for a water break and a pep talk. They're only up by one so they need to stand their ground in this next half. 

“Great job guys. As a reminder let's keep our eye close on number 18. They’ve got a great cross and we can’t be caught off guard.” The coach is optimistic about his team winning in the second half. That is until the refs pull him aside. 

“Sam” Coach called 

Sam confused got up from her place next to Tara and walked over.

“Ya?” 

“So I know what we talked about before with Tara and everything. But there’s this rule that the Y mandates.” He hesitated to finish his sentence 

“What’s the rule?” Sam asked feeling like something was wrong

“I have to put Tara in as goalie. Now before you get mad, if I don’t we have to forfeit the game.”  He grimaced at Sam waiting for her to blow up. 

“What kind of stupid rule is that?” Sam wasn’t as mad as she thought she would be. It could have been worse. Honestly out of any news he could have given her it was the best. The goalie is protected more than a regular player. Sam was more upset that Tara would have to play a position she’s never played before. 

“I know its dumb but rules state every player in the under 10 bracket have to play every position on the field to make it fair. I put off placing Tara in goal as she’s well ya know. Small” 

Sam didn’t know whether to agree or be mad the coach thought less of her sister. 

“She’ll be fine. Just let me tell her.” Sam said walking away 

“Hey baby girl I know this might not be what you would like but your coach has to put you in at goalie for the second half” 

“What why?” Tara groand at the idea 

“Its some rule the program has in place. Every player on the team as to be goalie at least once.” Sam stated 

“Aww fine. I really wanted to score again.” Tara had a passion in her eyes that made Sam buzz with delight 

“You can score every goal next game.” Sam said giving Tara a little nudge 

“Well if goalie is what they want goalie is what they’ll get. Im small so they’ll underestimate me. Then i'll show’em who’s boss.” Tara was determined to be the best goalie she could be. Her team was gonna win and she would protect the goal at all costs. It couldn’t be that hard she thought to herself. She’s watched her sister for years. All she has to do is what Sam would do. And Tara did just that. 

If a player broke through there defense Tara met them head on. She new the closer she was to the player the bigger her body would be in the way of the goal. She made five saves. One was a bad kick and an easy scoop. Two were her quick thinking and kicking the ball out and the other two were half way decent shots. Tara was so proud of herself even if she wasn’t scoring to help the team out she was protecting their goal. 

Sam thought she might pass out. Tara had full forced run at two people sliding to get the ball. She could have easily been hurt. Sam didn’t take into consideration how often Tara would be running and sliding into danger while playing goalie. She knew she was probably over reacting but still. 

“Corner Kick” Yelled the Ref. 

Corner kick Great… Sam thought to herself. She couldn’t even see Tara anymore amongst the players crowding in the box. Sam looked at the score board 4-3 and a minute and 30 seconds left. Shit, it’s now or never for the other team to tie.  

Tara found herself crowded with players from both teams. She couldn’t even see over anyone to where the ball is coming from. But that didn’t stop her. If she couldn’t see the ball then she would listen for it. She closed her eyes and focused on a sounds of the grass. Then she heard a big swish and thud. They must have kicked it. Tara looked up to watch the ball fly threw the air. If the player wasn’t on the other team she would be impressed with the control and power of the kick. When the ball landed everything went slow-mo. Every one looked around to try and find the ball but Tara saw it first. Being lower to the group allowed her to see through the crowd and find it. Before she could even think twice Tara dove for the ball. She looked down and she had it. She actually had the ball! She was about to get up when she felt a striking pain shoot through her torso over and over. Then WHAM. She couldn’t see. The pain traveled through her nose to the back of her brain. It knocked the wind out of her. Tara opened her eyes to a girl kicking the ball in her hands over and over again. (Which is illegal by the way) She had missed one of her kicks and kicked Tara square in the nose. Tara felt the blood leaking down her face as she stood up. She felt wobbly but noticed she still had the ball. She ran forward and dropped kicked it as far as she could. The players chased after the ball leave Tara along in her goal bleeding profusely. 

Sam didn’t breath until she saw her sister again. Once she saw tara break out of the masses ball in hand she jumped with glee. Only to be halted as she was staring from the side lines she saw red. Blood. Taras face was covered with blood and and it was all over her jersey. Sam was certain Tara would be crying if she was bleeding that badly but her sister just stayed in the goal eyes every so carefully watching the ball. Sam lunged forward but a hand came out of nowhere holding her back. 

“Let go” She growled 

“20 seconds and we win. Tara did good. You running on the field would causes, problems” It was the coach holding Sam back. He was right. Tara seemed to be perfectly fine other than the blood loss. She wasn’t crying or seemed to be in any pain. So Sam just stood there, eyes locked on her sister waiting to see. 

3…2…1… The whistle blew. They had won. Tara immediately locks eyes with Sam. Before her teammates could even congratulate tara on a good game she was sprinting full speed for her sister. Seeing Sam let Taras body know she was in a safe place to hurt and hurt it did. Tara started to cry before she could reach Sam. However, Sam knew the second they locked eyes her sister needed her. Tara flew through the air with how fast she was running straight into Sam’s arms. 

“Did I do it? Did I protect the goal?” Tara said through muffled cry. 

“Of course you did big girl. Im so proud of you.” Sam said as she pulled Tara back to get a better look at her nose. 

Before Sam could go get their bag, hands from all around them reached out with towels, wet wipes, and water. The parents of other players understood the importance of Sam staying with Tara until she calmed down. 

Tara just clinged to Sam as Sam cleaned her face up. Taras nose didn’t seem broken but she defiantly might have a black eye after this. As time went by Tara started to relax more and the bleeding stoped. Her teammates congratulated her on a job well done as they all went home. 

“You think you're ready to start walking home?” Sam asked looking down at Tara

“Mmm ya” Tara added reaching for Sam’s hand. They said their goodbyes and headed home. 

“You were amazing out there today” 

Tara perked up at the compliment. 

“Well I couldn’t have done it with out you.” Tara admitted 

“How do you mean? I was just cheering you on like always.” Sam watched her sister walk next to her. 

“I protected the goal like you protect me. Ive never even played goalie until today.” Tara didn’t even look up at Sam as if her words were a simple fact that everyone should know. 

Sam just squeezed Taras hand. Her heart fluttering at the reassurance that Tara dose in fact know how much she means to her. 

“Wait but why didn’t you flag the refs down after you got hurt?” Sam asked oozing concern 

“The goal wasn’t safe yet. If the game stopped and I saw you I don’t think I would have been able to pull it back together to finish. I didn’t want to let my team down.” 

“Oh baby girl you didn’t let anyone down. But maybe next time it’s okay to say you got hurt. Okay?” 

“Okay fine.” Tara seemed upset she couldn’t play through injury. Maybe her baby sister’s tougher than she thought. 

[britishassistant]

What if Villain!Yuu had a civilian that cares for them like that civilian would come and check on Villain!Yuu like

Civilian: did you eat well?

Civilian: do you need sleep?

Like a sweetheart Civilian that genuinely cares for them and helps them escape the other civilians *cough* NRC *cough* *cough* anyways a civilian that is very trustworthy?

“Do you think we should be doing more?”

The head proprietor of the Daisy Chains bookshop looks up at his husband, curled up on the corner of their couch, a book abandoned in his lap. He runs a nail over his empty teacup, tracing the kittens painted in black, white and grey playing with a purple ball of yarn.

“I’m not sure what you mean, love.” Martin admits, setting down his knitting. Elena’s shooting up like a weed, she’ll need a new hat again for this winter.

“With. You know,” Jonathan Blackwood moves his hands in a vague gesture that somehow encompasses the elephant in the room. The one who rather graciously agreed to let Elena come over to play at their lair and promised to bring her home by four.

“I know they’re an adult.” Jon states, raking a hand through hair that’s now almost entirely silver, only a few dark streaks from when Martin first met him remaining. “I know they’re, they’re independent. That, that they’ve got those minions, and the birds, and they’re. They’re functional.”

Martin raises an eyebrow, shifting closer. “I’m sensing a ‘but’?”

“But Yuu isn’t. I’m not sure they’re…happy.” Jon scratches at the faded round scars pockmarked across his cheek. “And I know they’re an adult, I know, but sometimes I look at them, and.”

He peers at Martin, brown eyes wide and beseeching. “God, Martin, they’re so young. They’re going out and giving orders and trying to pretend they’re this, this big bad monster, but they’re just—just—!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Martin puts his knitting entirely to the side and scooches the rest of the way over, wrapping his husband up in a gently crushing embrace. “I know, love, I know. I don’t like it either. Feels a bit too close for comfort.”

Jon buries his head in the crook of Martin’s shoulder. Martin can faintly feel him nuzzle the tip of the scar tissue that hides under his jumper, which snakes down his arm to the elbow and bursts across his shoulder blades.

After taking a few deep breaths, he’s recovered enough to sit back, still resting in the protective cocoon of Martin’s arms. “I don’t. I can’t feel good just leaving them to be a, a pawn of that organization. Even if their friends have their best interests in mind, I can’t trust that’s the same for their. Their employer. So I was wondering if there wasn’t something more we should be doing. If we could help somehow.”

Martin shrugs. “Well, you’re right that we can’t just. What, present adoption papers and say ‘thanks Mr. Night Raven, but we’re taking your kid because you’re a shit parent’? That wouldn’t go well for anyone, and like you said, they are an adult. Yuu’s responsible for the decisions they make, and so far they haven’t actually said they want to decide to stop being a supervillain.”

The mulish set of Jon’s jaw is familiar and adorable. “Yes, but—!”

Martin presses a kiss to his husband’s cheek to forestall the protest. “But, if they ever say they’d like to, we can of course do everything we can to help them. And in the meantime, we’ll just. Be there. As best we can. Honestly, I think Elena’s already done half the work for us.”

That gets Jon to smile at least, thumb rubbing circles into Martin’s shoulder. “What, just keep offering meals and tea like they’re a stray cat?”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” Martin grins, then shrieks a laugh as Jon blows a raspberry into his clavicle as revenge.

[aparticularbandit]

Warmth

Summary: Himiko is left with a captive Tsumugi during the first snowfall.

Prompted by @sammylbir.

Rating: T.

AO3

“Oh.”

Himiko rubs her eyes as she wakes up then rubs at them again as she stares out the window, uncertain that what she’s seeing is really there.  Sometimes, in the afternoon, when she finally gets herself out of bed (okay, sometimes it’s earlier than that…sometimes), her dreams linger long enough that she can see them in the waking world, like ghosts of a world that she…honestly doesn’t always like better, but usually does.

In the waking world, Angie and Tenko are still gone.  That ache still sits in the middle of her chest, even now, and it’s often worse first thing after she wakes, because she sees them in her dreams, because she has to remember that those were just dreams.  It’s not that she forgets, but that dreams hurt.

Not that she talks about that with the others.

Maki notices, she knows, and has the same pain, the same guilt.  Tenko died out of her kindness to Himiko; Kaito died because Maki tried to save him on her own.  (Kaito would have died anyway.  Knowing that doesn’t help.)

Shuichi only doesn’t notice because he feels like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.  His guilt is different because his comes from responsibility – his pain for Kaede is similar enough, but he’d chosen before they were even locked away to blind himself.  That choice to be blind—

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

The world outside looked devastating – destroyed – but they’d found places that were still mostly put together, hovels nearby where they could drag mattresses and furniture and everything they needed for a general base of operations while they tried to settle.

They will need to explore eventually.  They all know this.  But they can’t do any of that until—

~

Himiko rubs her eyes and stares out the cracked window at a world covered with a thick layer of fluffy white.  Snowflakes fall from clouds that should be a deep, dark, stormy grey but are instead as soft a white as the snow covering everything outside.  She shivers.

“Oh.”

They’ll have to go back again today.  They hadn’t thought to bring winter clothes with them; in all honesty, Himiko hadn’t looked for them.

But someone should have—

~

“Don’t let her out.”

Maki doesn’t have to say it when she hands the length of Tsumugi’s rope over to Himiko.  She doesn’t have to say it, but she does.

That’s the thing of it – Maki and Shuichi are always the ones who go back to their last cage, and Himiko is always left behind with Tsumugi.  Himiko just isn’t physically strong enough to help carry what they might need, no matter how often she joins in their nightly work-out sessions.  It’s not anything against her, of course.

Which means that Himiko, more than the other survivors, has spent the most time with their singular captive.

Himiko sits down across from Tsumugi as the others leave, one leg propped up and her arm stretched across her knee.  She doesn’t say anything at first, and neither does Tsumugi – not that anything she says could be understood around the huge length of unidentified fabric they’d taken from what was left of Miu’s room and gagged her with it.  (Miu would make a joke about that.  She would like that – gagging the Mastermind, tying her up.  The three of them might not have really liked Miu’s jokes, but it’s a nice thought, at least.)

She shivers.

The thing is that the new place they’ve been staying doesn’t have heat.  Or air conditioning or running water or anything like that, and without Miu to go through and fix all of those things, they’re up a creek without a paddle.  There are probably ways to duplicate what was happening within their cage so that they could have those amenities or at least a purifier or something, but so far they haven’t found any of that.

Himiko tells herself over and over that this isn’t just a second season of a TV show, that they haven’t just become their own spin-off of the Danganronpa series that follows how their small group will survive in the world where they’ve found themselves, but she can’t be sure it isn’t true.  The Nanokumas were so small that they couldn’t see them, except for Gonta and Kiibo, but they’re both dead now, so they could still be around and they would never know.

Tsumugi would know.

No one has asked her.

Eventually, Himiko glances up to where Tsumugi is still tied up and notices that she’s shivering, too.  That’s normal – Tsumugi shivers a lot when her gag is in; sometimes she cries silently, but they all pretend not to notice.  She’s not crying right now, though.  She’s just shivering.  Worse than Himiko is, which is saying something.

“You’re cold?”

Tsumugi glances up just enough to hold Himiko’s gaze, but she doesn’t make a sound.  She doesn’t shake her head or nod either.  Just stares, silently.  Still shivering.

It’s her fault Tsumugi’s still alive.

It’s not like she thought the other girl deserved it or anything.  She was just so, so tired of all the killing.  Of all the death.  There was no convincing Kiibo to not destroy their cage, no convincing him to survive with them and try and do something new, because they needed to destroy everything to be free.  She’d understood that then.

But the three of them pulled themselves alive out of the rubble and then she’d found Tsumugi and….

It wasn’t that Himiko liked her, or anything like that.

She was just so tired of all the death.

“Nyeh,” Himiko says quietly, still shivering.  Tenko would say something about body heat helping keep them warm, and she’d be right.  She looks up again and meets Tsumugi’s eyes.  Then, hesitantly, she crawls over to her and curls up next to her.  “I’m cold,” she says by way of explanation.  “Keep me warm.”

It’s the least Tsumugi can do, after all.  After everything else, she can at least keep her warm.

She owes her that, at least.

[firstsprinces]

Thank you @anincompletelist for tagging me in this game! I loved devouring each of your snippets from the works you’re proud of!

Rules: Post your favorite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

I haven’t even started and I’m about to break the only rule 😂 because I still only have fics posted from holiday challenges, which I am not blown away by. I thoight I'd have other fics posted by now but it’s been a year so far, to say the least. So, I’m also going to share from Outlaw Alex because he’s coming very soon and I’m honestly the most proud of the way the words are fitting together for that one!

Leaving this tag as open and will be catching up with my following list soon! I can't wait to read what you're proud of and show you some extra and well deserved love!

Here we go...

From "Take This House and Make it a Home"

They admire their choice together from the couch later on that evening with David curled up underneath the blanket. Alex rests his head on Henry’s shoulder and thinks about how he can’t wait to decorate the tree the next day and debate if the tree will have colored lights or white lights – he’s guessing the white ones won’t be a choice once there are children also making the decisions. He can’t wait for the time where both he and Henry each have a child on their shoulders wanting to put ornaments on the tree higher than the other while having Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer  on the television in the background. Then, once the children are put to bed for the night, it’ll be the two of them again having their private moment admiring everything they’ve created together, just like this with David snoring and the fireplace crackling, with Henry’s legs tangled with his as the peace settles over them; that the house they’ve settled down in is finally a home. Whether it’s tonight, two or three Christmases from now, or when they’re in their eighties, Alex will always look over at Henry and know the magic that they have together is forever.

From "Here We Stand Worlds Apart" (ongoing)

The side of his hand skims the material of the bodysuit as he searches for the chin strap, popping off the buckle. Then he takes both of his hands and carefully begins the removal of the helmet. As more of the face starts to be revealed, a strong chin and jawline, perfectly chiseled cheekbones, dark and soft curls styled with a short cut, Henry finds out it’s a man who’s crashed into the woods. He can’t help but stare at the face of the attractive man. Attractive isn’t even the correct word in his vocabulary to describe him. His eyes are closed, which makes Henry wonder what color they are. He hopes they aren’t green like Ralph’s because he doesn’t want to be reminded of a pair of eyes that will never look at him in the adoringly hungry way they do when he looks at Alice Rodgers. Long dark lashes fan out and almost look as if they’re touching the top curve of his cheekbones. He looks angelic even in a setting that looks like he’s met his death. His appreciative gaze travels to his hair next. Curls draping over one another in an unlikely symphony of wildness and precise placing, even after being smashed flat against his head from wearing the helmet. Henry can’t help but want to feel what the curls would feel like moving through the spaces between his fingers, even though it’s a bizarre thing to do to someone who’s just been in a crash, someone who’s a stranger to him.

From "The Wind Whispered Something That the Devil's to Blame" (coming soon)

Months after his father’s funeral, his mother had told him the opposite. It had actually been Henry who’d given his father the enlightenment to embrace all new discoveries and to always keep chasing them because they’re remarkably never-ending. Always live as though the world keeps creating things to stumble upon on purpose. Accidents may happen along the way, but those are also little surprises that will lead to something far grander. As a child Henry had been more animated and curious than his two siblings, but he’d also been overly cautious and kept to himself when necessary. It had been his father who would tell Henry that he shouldn’t be afraid of unknown things, so why would his mother tell him otherwise? What would Henry have given someone with more life experiences than he had? Their relationship had always been different than his ones with Phillip and Beatrice. Though Arthur always made sure to give each of his children their own moments just between the two of them, Catherine had let the secret out to Henry that his favorite discovery had been witnessing Henry experience the world around him. After the confession, Henry made the promise to his father after his passing that he’d take his father on every new adventure with him to make sure he’d never miss out, and in those adventures, he’d find out who he truly is and embrace himself as the wonderment his father believes he is. He places the last and only photograph he has of him and his father, back down on his desk, his pointer finger skimming his greyed blurry face that doesn’t resemble the fact his father’s memory will never become dull or unclear.

[joyswonderland1108]

🙃2.0

Okay so today this bih is sick af but still decided to drop by, this is by no means an actual post or whatever the fuck i should call it. I wanted to make a separate post about Hope on the street but life had other ideas for me today. 

I’ll quickly start off by saying i was already emotional af while watching Hobi’s live, not emotional in a way that i was sobbing but more like, it was heartwarming, i was smiling the whole time, truly a ray of Sunshine our Hobi. Then On the street dropped and that was such a masterpiece that was beautiful and honestly i felt loved and appreciated and i hope that no matter what Hobi knows that we love him unconditionally despite there being sickos. 

Second thing i wanted to say is, y’all motherfuckers who think it’s okay to go on stalking the boys because you’re a “fan”, you want to see them up close and show them your “support” in real life. The way my ass would’ve been already in jail because of all those sick bastards who think it’s okay and all those who support this by asking to share or asking for more.. Y’all failed lab experiments are giving me homicidal tendencies. 

There’s a huge difference between coming across your favorite idol outside, sure enough snapping a picture without consent is a bit meh but at least most people who do, do it from a distance because of excitement or whatever, doing a story time about accidentally meeting your idol outside, no picture or video included (key word: OUTSIDE, IN PUBLIC) AND willingly looking up places your idol goes to so you can be there like a creep waiting for t THEM to come across YOU not the other way around. 

Y’all are that sick and twisted that you had JK getting drunk to be able to let it out knowing damn well that from his words it means that they’ve been holding back on so many fucking things before. To make it worse JK still fucking shows up after everything you motherfuckers put him through, we’re not even 6 months in 2023 and there’s already shit tons of crap going on about him while he’s busy minding his own goddamn business with an added weight every time a bitch decides to come up with some bullshit story about him or decide it’s okay to invade his privacy. 

Bruh i keep on saying that we do NOT deserve these men, my anger issues could NEVER!! You best believe if that was me i’d turn that fucking live on to curse the shit out everyone flip the bird and never show up online for a good 4 or 5 years. I hope Karma gets their asses real good, imma need her to bite their asses hard enough that they pass out from it. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!! 

Update :

And just when you think it doesn’t get worse.. 

Translation : 

“I'm bringing it up because Jungkook talked about the boxing gym but one of my coworkers is friends with one of the coaches at the same boxing gym as Jungook. After Jungkooks live (where the video came from) he hasn't gone, no, he isn't able to go. He isn't able to workout freely anymore and it's been decided that he won't be working out at that gym anymore. There were a lot of complaints that day Please respect their private lives”

So not only they stalk him but they probably also make him feel guilty about being the reason why people close to him are being attacked or being put in uncomfortable situations. GOD I FUCKING DESPISE THEM!!! WHEN ARE THEY JUST GOING TO UNALIVE THEMSELVES ALREADY FUCK!

[altschmerzes]

oh my god the hugging scene u just posted from the same story,,,,, oh my god i don’t think i’m functioning JAMIE MY BOY

YEAHHHHHH THAT SCENE IS SO. IT'S SO!!!!! i think about it a lot, it's like. sometimes everything actionable has been done and everything just hurts a lot and all you can do is hug someone. and stay there as long as they need. it's SO.

for a bit more of that, from later on in the same scene (which is a bit of an extended scene but i refuse to apologize for that, after all i've put everyone through in that fic lskdjf)-

The threat of the panic attack resuming seems less and less likely, but that doesn’t mean everything’s blown over. Roy can feel, under his hands and against his chest, the way that Jamie takes a deep, steadying inhale, and the way that he chokes on it when he lets it out. Not much, at least, not enough that Roy is afraid for him, but it happens. It’s just a sound, a quiet sob, and honestly? That, too, is good news as far as Roy is concerned. Because Jamie hadn’t stifled it. He hadn’t bit it back or swallowed it, hadn’t lurched away from Roy or flinched when he realized he’d let it out. Jamie just let himself make the noise, had let Roy hear it, and didn’t react like he needed to protect himself from the consequences, and that… Roy is prouder of him for that than he can remotely try to express. They’ve probably been here long enough that it’s starting to get ridiculous that they’re still there, but Roy isn’t inclined to rush things. He settles meditatively into standing there, holding Jamie and waiting. Every so often his hand drifts in a well-worn pattern, rubbing the trembling back under his palm while the other maintains its steady, firm grip on the back of Jamie’s neck. The day has begun to grow colder around them as it wears later, but Roy isn’t not going to be the one to let go first. Maybe he can’t fix fuck-all about anything, but this he can do. At the very least, this is something that he can do.

[fountainpenguin]

"I keep pushin' forward, but he keeps pullin' me backwards... (Don't pick up the phone; don't let him in; don't be his friend...)" (x)

Top 10 Hanahaki Life Hacks (#8 Will Shock You)

Sour Petals AU Guide

❤️ Read on AO3

🧡 M - Ongoing multichapter

💙 Blog Tag - #Sour Petals AU

💚 More MCYT AUs

And she should apologize, but the words that gush out are more like, “You cheated on me,” which isn’t an apology at all. Unless it is (between the lines). Martyn winces, still shaking coffee from his arm. “I was coming back… I just took the wrong subway car. I swear… I was coming back.” No. No, not this again. Cat and yarn; hold the mouse. Cleo’s nails dig into the lines in her palms, scraping out cinnamon flecks. “Martyn, Scott heard it from Pearl’s mouth. Just… Tell me you were drunk or something. At least try to make up a story I’ll believe. Do you even care? Am I just…? Does it even matter to you, what I think?” And with a hasty backpedal, “If she took advantage, you can tell me. You can tell me. She’s Scott’s ex anyway; I’ve got her blocked everywhere I could think of. We never talk.” “It was late and I boarded the wrong subway,” Martyn says again, but he is lying. It’s always an excuse; never an apology.

Martyn coughs up flowers for years after the divorce, making bank as a florist, dye salesman, painter... anything he can put his on-and-off Hanahaki disease to use for.

Cleo just wants to move on.

Double Life SMP & Limited Life SMP-themed Hanahaki AU, set in a modern Hermitcraft universe

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

New Rules

- 🥀 -

Martyn Littlewood started dyeing at age 31.

Every day, 6:15 AM, Cleo stands by the stairs that lead down to the subway, waiting by the window while Martyn rips flowers from his skin. The stems snap off, but the roots remain. They’ve got him so fiercely, tongue-tied and ripped apart, that every time he laughs, he sounds more undead than alive. How many surgeries can a florist afford to get those things removed? Or does he do it all himself? He looks awful sometimes (especially in the summer) when thorny vines wrap his arms and legs. Sometimes his arms hang like limp meat at his sides. The tubes, canes, and chairs he uses look increasingly expensive.

32-year-old Martyn Littlewood runs the flower shop in Aqua Town. Cleo’s stepped through that door to stand among lush, strong-scented plants more times than she’d care to admit. They’re… cordial. At least, Martyn doesn’t seem to hate her. She’s never hated him.

“Well, you’ve made me a rich man. I don’t spend a lick on material. It just comes to me.” He crushes blue petals with a squeeze of his hand. Cleo grips her bag in one hand, gazing back over the rims of her sunglasses. Martyn has stitch marks up and down his face. All over his hands. There’s one right across his forehead. He wears a neck brace now. Or if it’s not a brace, it’s some sort of bandage. All her own marks are zombie-themed tattoos. They fit her zombie aesthetic. The aesthetic came first. He smiles, painfully from behind the counter, and threads baby’s breadth in a bouquet as a filler flower. It’s coming back in style, he says, after a decade of it being overdone. Honestly, Cleo doesn’t get why he even tries selling the flowers; he should stick to dye. Everything is dying here. Except his energy, when he says, “What brought you in here, m’dude? Hot date tonight?”

There’s silk and chocolate in his voice. It catches her through the gut, like she tripped and speared herself on a stalagmite. Uh. Cleo lifts one finger to the window. “You took down your neopronouns sign. I just wanted to ask what’s up; if you’re okay.”

The sign was mangrove wood and cut in the shape of a peony. Martyn flicks his eyes to the place it used to hang, then goes back to work. “Aw, that… Well, flower pronouns aren’t super practical when I’m in the shop. I’m looking for others. Something more versatile. Nothing has that same rush, but I’m not giving up.”

That makes sense. Does that make sense? He doesn’t look at her. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring,” she says without thinking. Martyn stops. His eyes stay pinned on the nearest wilting rose.

“Yeah. Are you not cool with that?”

It’s not a challenge, but she knows he’d shove back if she pushed. It’s easier, running fingers through her hair. “Honestly, it’s fine. Mine’s still on the bathroom counter. I see it every day. Sometimes I still wear it. Mostly when I’m out with Scott or Cub.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Martyn nods. His hands move again, fluffing the tiny flowers from below. “People talk.”

“They do.”

He clears his throat in his fist. Cleo moves away, examining the fridges in the back so he can cough up petals without an ex hovering around him. His coughs are thick and damp. He stands and leaves the room.

- 🌹 -

Martyn’s work often took him away from Hermit Hills. He and his best friend ran a summer camp called Dogwarts out in the flats, in that little piece of rumpled land that sat too near the desert for the local farmers to take an interest. She met Martyn because of that camp, actually, when they were 24 and 25 and he reached out with a little Hey, I love your work and we’re mutual friends with Scott and Pearl email to ask if she’d do a presentation on insects and other forest wildlife for the kids. He said his usual presenter was out tagging eagles that week, and honestly… Where do you even go from that? He and Ren offered good money, too. She could probably type up her research remotely for a few days. A few weeks. Even if she didn’t make as much progress as she’d like, the network opportunity might be worth its weight in diamond blocks.

“You should,” Scott encouraged when she called him up to check if this Martyn guy really was his friend. “Pearl and I are counselors. We can all hang out together! And you can tell the kids about that time you bottle-fed the bear cubs.”

… Yeah, all right. She worked more often with bats, but talking about the bear cubs always turns eyes her way. Wildlife rehabilitation isn’t really a standalone career, and that’s a good thing to prepare kids for at an animal-lovers camp. She could still smell the baby formula blended with blueberries, the cubs with creamy droplets smeared across their muzzles and cheeks.

She took the offer. Three weeks later, there she was… Camp Dogwarts and its insects, poison ivy, and whatever else lay waiting for her. Cleo basked a few last seconds in the bliss of the air conditioning, then switched off the car and stepped into summer sun. Martyn and Ren both shook her hand, beaming. He/him or flower/rose. He/they/it or neopronouns that fit a canine theme. They said it back to back, fluidly and effortless.

Cleo paused. Then, “She/her professionally. I’ve… considered experimenting, but my social life’s been tied to work for so long, I don’t know where to start.” With Scott, obviously, but pronouns sounded like such a big commitment. Ren clasped their hands; if they’d had a tail, it would have wagged. And he probably would have loved that.

“Oh, dude! We have so much to talk about! Can I call you ‘dude?’”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

Martyn gave the tour while Ren and the counselors kept an eye on the kids. The hilltop pergola made a perfect lookout point. Martyn shielded his eyes, then pointed across the field to a second hilltop building in the distance. “Bean Hill. Rrrrright over there, that’s the edge of camp.”

His eyes? Flower’s eyes? She understood the pronouns in theory, though trying to wrap her mind around them left her suddenly aware of everything she didn’t know. She felt like she’d been stripped, her clothes dunked in the lake. “Cozy place,” she replied. “You and Ren built all this?”

“Yes, ma’am! Placed every block with our own four hands.” And they talked about that, soaking in the sunlight, until Cleo asked the itchy question that wouldn’t leave her thoughts alone.

“Real quick… You don’t have to get into it, but how did you find neopronouns that were right for you? Or… how did you decide to take that leap? I imagine people talk. Ask a lot of questions. So, you must be pretty committed to them if you share them openly.”

Martyn gazed out across the hill, sighing through his(?) nose. “I use them at camp. Not so much at home. I don’t dare discuss it with my parents.” Then, leaning rose’s shoulder (was that right?) on the pergola support, flower said, “You know that discourse that goes around every once in awhile about gift giving being a ‘selfish’ love language? Or have you ever heard someone talk about how they’d never be able to stand dating someone who sort of expected gifts throughout the year?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like that. I’ve always thought gift giving wasn’t so much about what was given as it was about the thought that you exist in someone’s mind even when you’re not there in front of them. Like, they care enough about you, they wanted you to know they saw something and thought of you. When someone puts the thought into my pronouns… it means they thought about me. And the world is better.” Flower bent down and pulled a dandelion from the grass. “Ren says it would probably be called it/its more often if it really did have a werewolf form, and sometimes that feels good and sometimes it’s lonely. I dunno… Everyone’s just out here getting by, I guess. It’s worth having something to smile about every day. Neopronoun use is like that for me. Free smiles in the tip jar.”

“I’m not sure tips are free.”

❤️ Read on AO3

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My website

Chapter 89: July 2017

[CLICK]

JON

Statement of Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London, regarding the upcoming…um…operation. Twelfth July, 2017. Recording taken direct from subject.

I-I wanted to get some thoughts down before, um, everything. We all should. I’ll, I’ll mention it to them.

[Deep breath] Martin is home. That…that seems like the most important place to start, honestly. Martin is home. He’s home and he’s safe and…I-I know he feels the trip was a waste of time, that he didn’t learn anything of substance, but he did. Tim’s right, we could never have just gone up to Great Yarmouth and staked out the House of Wax until it looked like things were ready. We have to know. And thanks to Martin, we do. Three days after Orsinov got the skin…or, well, after she called in all her…minions, but I-I rather suspect those are one and the same. She wouldn’t have waited long.

Forty-eight hours. Give or take.

We have a plan. It’s…I don’t know if it’s a good plan, but it’s a plan, and we have it. And it should work. Martin and Melanie and…they picked it over with a fine-toothed comb, and they say it should work. Myself, Daisy, Martin, Melanie or Tim—I’m not sure which right now—and Basira, we’ll be heading up to Great Yarmouth either late tomorrow or early morning the day after, while Sasha and…whoever the other one is stay behind. Gertrude’s notes were very clear. Unless the ritual is underway, anything we do can be easily repaired. But if we time it right, it’ll be centuries, maybe more, before they can try it again. Of course, if we time it wrong…

Daisy has been pretty clear that she thinks her best chance of success is to go in alone, and honestly, I struggle to disagree with her. [sigh] Martin didn’t, though. I don’t know what surprised me more, that he simply told her he was going with or that she didn’t argue. They seem to have come to some kind of…uneasy truce. I think they both have the same feeling, that they need to see it through, and that they need to protect the rest of us. They’re planning on it just being the two of them going, or at least going in.

That—that isn’t happening. Martin isn’t going without me. I, I can’t let him out of my sight, not for that. I just got him back, I—

I don’t care if this is an official record. I don’t care who listens to this outside the Archives. I will say it and I will not deny it. I need him to be safe, and I need to know he’s safe, and the only way I can do that is to go in there with him. So. I’m going. Whether he wants me to or not.

I think Basira feels the same way. About Daisy, I mean. Or at least about letting Daisy go without her. Seeing what they’ve seen, doing what they’ve done…it’s a hell of a bond. I would know. Even if it’s not romantic for them, it’s the same bond Martin and I have. The same bond Martin and Melanie have, too, so she’ll likely be coming along as well. We’ve already discussed it, the rest of us, and we’re in agreement. They’re not going alone.

…

There’s something different about him. I, I can’t put my finger on it. It’s not anything physical. He still looks the same, feels the same, [heh] smells the same. He’s still the same person he’s always been, the same man I—I fell in love with. But there’s a…a confidence? No, that isn’t right. But there’s something. It’s like it’s lurking just under the surface, something I can’t explain, something I can’t reach. Something happened to him while he was gone. All right, yes, I know that’s an understatement. Of course ‘something happened to him’. He was kidnapped, for God’s sake, he was stabbed and nearly died and—I almost lost him. And I never would have known…

[SMALL, STIFLED SOB]

[SNIFF]

B-but it, it’s more than that. I wouldn’t say he came back different, but he came back…with something different, maybe? There’s something I don’t understand. Something he hasn’t said.

There will be time. After. When it’s all said and done. When we get back…we’ll have all the time in the world. I can ask him then, and…and he’ll tell me. I know he will. I trust him.

I love him.

If this is my final message…let it be that.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

BASIRA

Um. Statement of Basira Hussain, twelfth July, 2017, at the request of Jonathan Sims.

I’m not sure why I’m here. I mean, I understand how I got to this point. Just a series of decisions until, yep, this is my life now! But I don’t know why. Does that make sense?

I don’t…I don’t really want to be here. I shouldn’t be here. Martin’s never said anything, but I know he’s disappointed, maybe a little annoyed, that I came back after he told me not to. And he was right, I should have stayed away. But I—I couldn’t abandon Daisy. I couldn’t just give up on her. And the only way I could think of to find her was to come to the Magnus Institute, and now I’m a goddamned hostage. At least I don’t really have it as bad as the others. It’s amazing how much you can ignore when you’ve got your nose in a book.

I’m, I’m trying not to resent the way they’re treating Daisy. I know they don’t understand her. But—they’re not afraid of Martin. I mean, yes, okay, completely different abilities, and he was a librarian, not a cop. But she did what she had to do to survive, just like him. Just like their…other friend. It’s not her fault that what she needs looks scarier to other people. And it’s not like it’s all bad. The things she does have stopped some very dangerous people. And why shouldn’t she enjoy what she needs to sustain herself sometimes? It’s like those dieters who think that if food tastes good, it can’t be healthy. She’s allowed to get some pleasure in it when she can.

…

Martin gets it better, I suppose. Since, you know, he’s the same way she is, especially now. Not hard to see they’re on the same level or whatever. He at least hasn’t been outright hostile to her. She seems about as friendly with him as she ever did anyone else on the force. Dunno if I’d call them friends, but at least they’re standing on the same side, and I think they’ll turn their backs on each other. Daisy doesn’t do that for many people.

I know they don’t see it, but Daisy’s true blue. You always know where you stand with her. I never doubted she had my back in the field when I took the lead, even if I didn’t do it very often. I owe it to her to have her back here.

So yeah, that’s why I’m going. I don’t trust anyone else to care if she comes back alive. Even her, really. She’ll be looking to get the job done, not protect herself. She’ll need someone spotting her, and that someone is going to be me.

It’s nice to have one thing certain in all this. One damned thing I can control.

[DEEP BREATH, SLOW EXHALE]

Maybe that’s why I’m here. Not just to back Daisy up, but these guys get so…bogged down in details. It’s not just not seeing the forest for the trees. They can’t even see where the trail is. Me, I can at least think in a straight line. Control. Balance. Something steady.

I dunno. Maybe I’m overthinking it, too. Maybe there is no reason I’m here. Or maybe why I need to be here is…further out. Maybe I don’t need to be here right now, but if I’m not here now, I won’t be later. I don’t know.

I guess we’ll find out.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

SASHA

Sasha James, archival assistant at The Magnus Institute, London, recording statement…hm…let’s see if I can get this right…0171207…dash…C? Hope we’re dividing these up by letters, otherwise I’ve just fucked up the system. [Slightly nervous giggle] Statement taken direct from subject.

I wish I wasn’t staying. I’m not going to lie. I wish there was a way we could do this without me—without anyone—having to stay back. But someone needs to stay, and I’m not going to be any use in setting bombs, so it’s going to be me.

It should probably be Jon and Tim who stay, let’s be honest. They’ve both been Marked by the Stranger—Tim really, really deeply, and Jon…well, at least, I’m assuming he’s been Marked. Not like any of us have asked Martin to take another Look since that first night, so I could be wrong. Anyway, what if that means Orsinov and her minions come looking for them? Or worse, what if the Marks are so powerful they get drawn into the Unknowing whether they want to or not?

God, choosing to participate is bad enough. Being killed to be used is worse. But being drawn into it, knowing what walking in will do and not being able to stop…even if by some miracle they survived that, they’d never be over it.

Well. I mean. If we don’t stop it, the world’s going to end, too, so there’s that.

I’m scared. I—oh, I didn’t mean to say that. I really don’t want that to be my last words. ‘Here lies Sasha James. She was scared all the time.’ It’s not true, I mean…I’m not scared all the time. But this does scare me. Partly because it’s the Stranger, and, well, it’s our opposite, right? I can only imagine how much we’d all be punished in a world made for it. Partly because it almost killed me once. The Not-Them was definitely after me, and the only reason I’m alive is because I didn’t go near the table that night in Artifact Storage. Partly—mostly—I’m scared for the others.

I mean, what I’m doing, it’s not exactly dangerous. I’m not going to die doing it. Probably. Most likely. It’s the others who are likely to be killed or—unmade, maybe. If things go wrong for me, I probably won’t lose anything but a paycheck or two, at most.

…

I don’t want Melanie to go. I know that’s stupid. Martin will look after her—he’d die before he let her get hurt, or Jon. But I just…I feel better when I know where she is, and that she’s okay. She keeps going off and doing stupid, dangerous shit with Tim and Jon and it’s just—

No. No, I need to be honest. That’s why we’re doing this, right? It’s not that she’s doing dangerous stuff with them. It’s that she’s doing it without me. I want to be there with her. I mean, we worked pretty well together when I went up to Great Yarmouth with her and Tim that time to stake the place out, and [heh] that impromptu make-out session we did to stop the random beat cop from getting suspicious was pretty fun, too.

Yeesh, this is pathetic. And I’m doing it on an official recording. Oh, my God, Martin is going to sk—he’s going to hit the ceiling if he listens to this. So’s Jon…well, maybe not Jon. I bet he spent his fair share of this tape mooning over Martin, too.

Okay. Get it together, Sasha. Make your statement, face your fears.

So. Yeah. I’m afraid something is going to happen to the others. I’m afraid something is going to happen to Melanie in particular, and I’m afraid that something is going to go wrong and the first I’ll know of it is when the world goes weird around me.

I mean, weirder than normal.

And I don’t know what I can do about it. Other than hold up my end of the plan and hope theirs goes well, too.

[DOOR OPENING]

MELANIE

Sasha?

SASHA

Hm?

MELANIE

Elias wants to see us. All of us.

SASHA

Right now?

MELANIE

Yeah. Says it can’t wait.

SASHA

Okay. Coming.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

MELANIE

Melanie King, twelfth of July, 2017, 11:37pm.

Yeah, I took it home to do this, what are you going to do about it? Maybe I wanted to be able to set proper wards. Maybe I don’t want anyone listening in.

I can’t believe Martin actually thought I would stay back. I can’t believe he considered it for even a second. Has he not figured out by now that every single time one of us goes off on our own, something goes horribly wrong? I mean, even when we’re together, things go bad. I’ve thought about making a statement about the Mermaid Inn, just so I stop having the fucking nightmares about it again.

On the whole, I preferred the ones about Aldershot, even if I did have to suffer through knowing Jon was watching, the bastard. I know it wasn’t his fault, but damn it, it just made me so…angry. [Sigh] Still not sure if that was because he was watching like it was a goddamned show or because I knew he didn’t know I knew he was there. After we got to be friends, I guess what made me the angriest was that I knew it was hurting him almost as much as it hurt me, but I couldn’t stop what I was doing and I couldn’t even step out of the patterns of the dreaming far enough to let him know I knew he was there. It just reminded me that I had no control over everything, and I hate that.

I’m angry a lot. I always have been. I feel like I’ve always been fighting. Having brothers like Martin and Gerry especially meant that—not that I had to fight them, but I had to fight for them. Martin would always try to make himself nonthreatening and Gerry would find the spaces in between to slip through, but I never wanted to do that. No one makes space for people like us. You’ve got to elbow the comfortable idiots out of the way and then claw your way up with gritted teeth. I know it sounds stupid to call starting a ghost hunting show a fight, but it was. Tooth and nail. And I did it, and I won. And then it all fell apart, and I can’t even find the point when it did. But I’m still fighting. New package, same patterns. Elias—God, what an asshole. I just want to rip his—

[CAT MEWS]

No, not you, baby. No, Mummy’s busy right now—okay, fine, fine, you can stay. Ow—Jesus, not the claws. There, settle down and be good now.

[PURRING UNDERSCORES THE REST OF THE STATEMENT]

God, when did I start losing the parts of myself that weren’t anger?

When was the last time I teased one of my brothers, or said something that wasn’t either neutral or meant to hurt? I’m not mad at them. Well, maybe a little bit at Martin for trying to be all…white knight, loose cannon, lone wolf type. He doesn’t have to do this alone, and he shouldn’t, and he fucking knows that, but he’s still trying.

I, I hate that. And I hate Mum for doing that to him, for making him think it doesn’t matter if he dies as long as the people around him survive. Not even just the people he cares about, the people he doesn’t even know. Can’t he see that saving the world isn’t going to mean anything to the rest of us if we lose him in the process? If he dies, I will get Gerry to bring him back again just so I can fucking kill him myself.

Losing Gerry like we did is what spelled the end of Ghost Hunt UK. I know that now. I was just so angry and I didn’t have anyone to be angry at, because it was just stupid bad genetics and our usual rotten luck that killed him, so I was angry at the whole universe. It’s why I stayed away from Martin—so I wouldn’t take it out on him—but that just meant I took it out on everyone else I came into contact with, and I know that’s a big part of why we started struggling after that. I’m afraid that will happen again, and—the Archives are different. We, we can’t quit. We’re trapped there, and if we get angry and start falling apart, we’ll just be…trapped with people who hate us, and who we hate, and that’s just going to be miserable for everyone.

But it’s more than that. Tim and Jon, they’re, they’re my brothers, and it’s nothing to do with them being with Gerry and Martin. Jon was my brother before Martin even admitted he was falling for him, and I think Tim would have been, eventually, even if he and Gerry weren’t making the beast with two backs.

I don’t want to lose my family. And I especially don’t want it to be my fault.

[DEEP BREATH]

So Martin is not going to die, and I am going to know who to blame if he gets hurt, and I will direct my anger at the appropriate people if the time comes.

And it looks like if all else fails, I can just cuddle up with you on my chest and I’ll be relaxed in no time.

Heh. Cats. I should’ve got one years ago. They’re better than Prozac.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

DAISY

I don’t know what you want from me.

And whatever it is, you’re not getting it.

…

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Martin Blackwood…[sigh] the Archivist, in advance of departure for Great Yarmouth. Recorded direct from subject, thirteenth July, 2017. Statement begins.

Everything’s set. We’re leaving in the morning, before sunrise. Daisy left a few minutes ago to “borrow” one of the disused Breekon and Hope vans so we can blend in a little better around the House of Wax, and once she’s sure it’s running properly, she’ll let us all know. Then we’ll meet up here at the Institute and make our way up. I definitely prefer rail travel, but, well, we can’t exactly do that with fifty pounds of plastic explosives in tow. Not without a permit, anyway.

I’m…not surprised, honestly, that the others insisted on coming along. Bit annoyed, but not surprised. If it were the other way around, I wouldn’t want to let Jon out of my sight, either. It’s just…I need them to be safe. And going into the House of Wax is about as far from safe as you can get without coming back in the other direction.

I suppose I should be glad. I mean, at least if they’re with us, I can watch them. I’ll know where they are, and that they’re safe. But I’m worried. The Stranger is—well, unpredictable. Elias wasn’t wrong about that. There’s every chance they’ll be where we don’t expect, do what we haven’t prepared for. It’s not the Web, sure, but it can still lure you in. And I haven’t forgotten that it was Jon trying to smack a spider that caused him to knock the hole in his office wall and let the Corruption out, or that one bit Sasha to tell her where the manual release for the fire suppression system was. Pretty sure there were a few lurking in that shack in the swamp, too. The Web is interested, I’m pretty sure, and if it teams up with the Stranger, God help us.

I’m not just worried. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my sister and the man I love to something that very nearly killed me once already and is the antithesis of everything we are, and I’m afraid that I’m going to be so focused on protecting them that I forget to protect Basira and Daisy, and I’m afraid that I’m going to be so distracted by all four of them that I forget to protect myself. And I’m afraid, terribly afraid, that if the Stranger gets hold of me the others will try to rescue me instead of disrupting the ritual. I refuse to be the reason the world ends.

I’m—I’m going to have to talk with Daisy. Again. She’s—[small laugh] fucking terrifying, but she’s also strong and no-nonsense. I trust her. I am putting that on the official record: I trust her. And I am trusting that if it all goes to shit, if I somehow get captured, she won’t waste time trying to get me out, and she won’t let Jon or Melanie waste time or energy on that either. If something happens to me, she needs to get them out, whether they want to go or not.

She will. I know she will.

…

I’ve, I’ve been thinking about a television show I loved when I was a kid. Used to borrow the tapes from the library when I could, too—haven’t watched it in ages, but it’s one of those shows that sticks with you, you know? I’ve had a few lines from it bouncing around my head these last couple days. Everything from Mr. Garibaldi saying that “if we lose, there is no ‘then what’, and if we win, what next” to Kosh saying “the avalanche has already started; it is too late for the pebbles to vote” to that doctor on Downbelow saying “I did the necessary thing. That is not always the same as the right thing.” [Bitter laugh] You know, all kinds of cheerful things like that.

But there are a couple more I keep…coming back to, when things start getting dark. One is Ivanova’s speech at the end of the very last episode, when she talks about what the station meant, and the other, um, was from the third season finale. And, um…maybe it’s not exactly the most professional thing in the world, but…just in case, for posterity, I’m going to try to remember it, exactly the way he said it.

[DEEP BREATH]

[FAINT, GENTLE STATIC]

“There is a greater darkness than the one we fight. It is the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. The war we fight is not against powers and principalities, it is against chaos and despair. Greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope, the death of dreams. Against this peril we can never surrender. The future is all around us, waiting, in moments of transition, to be born in moments of revelation. No one knows the shape of that future or where it will take us. We know only that it is always born in pain.”

[STATIC FADES]

We can’t give up. We have to keep hope.

We’ve got this.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

TIM

Let the record show that I am only doing this because Jon and Martin both asked me. I fucking hate these things. Maybe a little less knowing that it…well, helped Martin while he was gone, but still. Whatever you are, I think you’re a nosy bastard and I would normally never tell you any of this. But it’s important to them, so…fine.

They’re leaving soon. The others. Well…I mean, “soon,” I don’t know exactly when. It’s, um, it’s late. We stayed at the office later than usual, waiting for Daisy to get back with the van, but then Martin got in touch with her and said she was having trouble. Um, something about the fuel injector? I don’t know, I’m not a car guy. Whatever it is, she said it was going to take longer than she thought, so Martin told us all to go home and try to get some rest. They’ll call when they’re leaving. And when that happens, I guess I’ll be going back to the Institute.

I, I have to see them go. I can’t—I need to know they’re leaving. I know that sounds stupid. Intellectually, I know they’re leaving. Like, there’s no doubt about that. But…I need to see it. I need to watch them walk away—or drive away, whatever—and know that they’re going, and where they’re going.

I didn’t get that with Danny. He was there, and then I woke up the next morning, and he was gone. It was luck—good or bad, who knows—that I even figured out where he went. And I’m—I’m pretty sure he was long gone by the time I got there. What I saw, what I thought—it, it wasn’t Danny. Just a costume, really, or a—a sham over a prop. Like gluing the spine of an old book to a block of wood to save a space on the shelf, but when you pull it down, there’s nothing really there.

I keep trying to remember what the last thing I said to him was. When was the last time I told him I loved him? I mean, he knew, right? He had to. But did I tell him? Did I actually say it, or did I just fuss at him for being an idiot, try to calm him down, and go to bed when nothing worked? It…wasn’t like when we were little. This wasn’t him waking up crying from a dream and me wiping his eyes and making him cocoa and talking him back to reality. It happened, and there was nothing I could have done about that.

I could have tried harder, though.

My earliest memory is of my dad lifting me up so I can see into the crib, showing me this tiny red spud with a shock of black hair sticking up all over the place, and telling me that I have a responsibility now. And then he woke up and just looked at me, and—and the minute I met his eyes, big blue eyes full of wonder and awe, I knew I’d do anything for him. Looking after him was never a burden, you know? It was just a thing I did. [Small laugh] Maybe it would’ve been different if I’d had to, like if we’d had shitty home lives like Martin and Jon and Sasha did, but no, just my little brother tagging along and me making sure he was okay until he was big enough to handle himself, and it was good.

And then there was something he actually needed me to protect him from. And I didn’t.

That’s why I’m staying back. Melanie needs to go, she needs to be there for her brother. And Jon…well, Jon really doesn’t need to go, actually. I think Elias said he needed to stay behind knowing that he wouldn’t, and knowing that Martin wouldn’t fight him too hard, so if something awful does happen and Jon…um, gets hurt…Martin will spiral into guilt, and probably be easier to manipulate into doing something really goddamn stupid under the guise of protecting the rest of us. Basira won’t be any help, so if anyone is staying to help Sasha, it’s going to be me.

Which, hey. At least I get to take this case of the mean reds out on something.

[Sigh] Good luck, everyone. Bring the house down. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

GERRY

Never talked to one of these before. Gertrude barely let me near them, and I didn’t put my statement on tape when I first got back. Didn’t need to, really, they were all there, and we weren’t sure back then if anyone else was listening to them. Can’t risk the Supreme Bastard knowing I’m alive, after all. Well [bitter laugh], for a given value of alive, anyway.

But if this goes right, he won’t have a chance to find out, so…I might as well get my thoughts on the record, too.

Tim…he’s, uh, he’s sleeping. I managed to convince him to lie down after he finished his part of the tape, and for all he claimed he wasn’t tired, he’s snoring right now with his head in my lap. Going to try not to wake him up. Me, I haven’t slept since Martin got home. I can’t risk it. Every time I start thinking about sleeping…well, that’s when I’m at my most vulnerable, I guess. That’s when the flashbacks come on. They might not always be bad, but, uh, [nervous laugh] I don’t want to run the risk that I’m going to either relive something inconvenient in my life or go through someone else’s near death experience that leads to me seeing all the flaws in this plan or worrying too much about everyone dying, so, no. I can sleep when it’s all over.

I’m going. Tomorrow. Martin doesn’t know that—neither does Melanie, come to think of it—but I am. They’re probably both going to throw a wobbly and try to talk me out of it, but come on. It’s like the biggest Leitner we’ve ever tried to burn. They need me there.

That’s what I plan to tell them, anyway. And it’s the truth. Part of the truth. Really, though, it’s that I need to protect them. I—I can’t let them go into a dangerous situation without me, not when I’m able to go with them. Even apart from the usual…this, this thing I can do, I can see if they’re about to die and…well, prevent it by not touching them. I don’t even have to know the details of how they’re going to die. I just have to not poke the death point.

Martin can probably use another pair of eyes watching everyone’s back, too. He told me about his new…position. God, I hope he gets a raise out of it too…anyway, he’s now officially responsible for the others instead of just feeling responsible for them, so he’s going to be even more anxious about them on top of being anxious about stopping the Unknowing. And I can’t die—probably—so I’m as good a bodyguard as anyone.

Besides that. I promised Tim that if there’s—if anything goes really wrong, if there’s someone there who’s…I won’t let them suffer. I, I can reap…souls, I guess, without them being on the cusp of dying. I try not to, because those [sigh] are more substantial than the already-dying ones and I don’t want to get addicted to that, but it’s a thing I can do. So if there are people there that are…trapped, between living and dying, caught in a cycle of perpetual undeath as they await the Dance…I should be able to, um, pull them to one side.

Probably not the side they’d prefer, but—

[BUZZING]

[MIDI VERSION OF OPERATIC ARIA BEGINS PLAYING]

What—oh, really, Tim?

TIM

Huh? Wha?

GERRY

I get why your ringtone for Martin is an aria, but does it have to be from I Pagliacci?

TIM

I don’t know anything about operas, okay? I just grabbed something at random.

[RINGING AND BUZZING STOPS]

Hey, Marto. What’s up?

…

I’ll be right there.

…

The fuck I don’t. I’m on my way, okay?

…Yeah, see you soon.

They’re getting ready to go.

GERRY

It’s two in the goddamn morning.

TIM

Traffic will probably be better.

[GERRY SIGHS]

GERRY

Right. I’ll meet them at the north end of Brompton.

TIM

I’ll tell them.

…Be careful, okay?

GERRY

I will. I promise.

[KISS]

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Right, we’re getting ready to leave now. Tim brought this back with him when he came to say—to wish us luck, and I asked everyone to give me a second before I go out to join them.

I’m locking this in Tim’s desk drawer so it doesn’t accidentally get used…somehow. If we don’t come back, o-or we come back wrong, or different, this might be the only record of us, and I want it safe.

If you’re listening to this, and you’re not on this tape…find Tim and Sasha. Timothy Stoker and Sasha James. They should be around the Archives somewhere, and they’ll explain everything you need to know. There’s a Polaroid taped to the back of this—make sure they match. They’ll, they’ll be able to explain that, too.

If you are on this tape, and you’re listening to this because…well, because one of us didn’t come back…I’m sorry. I am. I’m sorry that this is the last recording you have of whoever…i-it’s probably, no, definitely me. I’m not losing them, and I will give my last breath to protect them, so if you’re listening to hear someone’s voice, it’s probably mine.

But if you’re able to listen, that means it was worth it.

[CLICK]

[we-pay-for-everything]

So I’m watching Angel for the first time and I cannot be the only one who is extremely confused about the Angel and Cordelia pairing.

I really don’t understand why Angel is acting the way he is at the beginning of season 4 when Cordelia is in the higher plane. You would think he just lost his wife of 50 years or something. I get that Angel can be obsessive but there is just no basis for this bizarre and kind of childish behaviour, especially when the Connor love triangle starts (which wtf is that even?). I can buy into him having feelings for her in season 3 and her being oblivious but them pushing this as some kind of great love in season 4 is absurd to me. There was absolutely no build up to this, there was nothing. They’ve never even talked directly to each other about their feelings for each other, they’ve never even kissed each other, there was never a romantic relationship at all and every single one of their love scenes was either when they were under possession, in a hallucination or a dream and I’m expected to believe that this is some grand love story? It just does not come off as a love story, it comes off as a story about misunderstanding and miscommunication and honestly, delusion. Like was it ever actually going to be a thing or were they just going to do the will-they-won’t-they forever? Not that I was ever rooting for it in the first place but it feels like the show is doing everything it can to make people NOT ship this. I’m starting to get very irritated by this in an otherwise much more interesting season than season 3…I hope this doesn’t drag on for much longer as I just watched the episode awakening and Angelus just returned and I just really want to enjoy Angelus.

First of all, I hope you're enjoying Angel! Do let me know what you think, especially about the ending of season 4 and season 5!

Secondly, I feel you and I agree with you. You haven't finished season 4 yet, but, in my opinion, season 4 is the season that most effectively "undermines" Cangel but highlighting how destructive, selfish and OOC Angel behaved because of Cordelia. He put his son second and that's not Angel. He was a mess and clinging to a delusion. Like you said, it was a delusion. Angel spent a summer dreaming of his perfect family. It wasn't really about love, it was about making that dream that had been permanently engraved in his brain a reality. We know Angel has a tendency to grab onto one ideal or dream that he thinks will lead him to salvation or happiness, and pursue it to the point of obsession and self-destruction (ie. Shanshu and Darla in season 2). Season 4 is just another example of that. I think seasons 2 and 3 have a lot of continuity in that sense. He wasn't in love with neither Darla nor Cordelia and sleeping with them was not perfect happiness (one was perfect despair and the other didn't even happen).

After you finish season 4 (or before, if you don't mind spoilers), I've written so much about Angel and Cordelia's relationship, particularly in season 3: x x x x x x, etc. I could only find old asks... You can look through my ATS asks if you ever feel like it though, haha. Sorry that I couldn't find my best posts. I don't really have time to hash it out now so I'll just have to refer you to my blog if you want my thoughts. And thank you for at least appreciating season 4 more than season 3! Season 4 packs one hell of a punch, especially after the Angelus arc.

Thanks for the ask! Feel free to come vent anytime! I'm curious about your first time reactions :)