#i have a moral obligation to respond and reply to everything ever so ask me things please

[royalthorned]

Everytime im looking for a new rare pair the tumblr gods lead me to your blog and now here i am reading remus/nagini with my breakfast what a world we live in

sat here drunkenly eating chunks of fancy cheese marvelling at the fact that real people think about my rarepairs that have become so clear and inevitable to me that i’m convinced they’re canon

[aro-culture-is]

(this isn't a submission) i just wanted to say thank you for posting such a cool response to that one person asking how Hanahaki can be made unproblematic. i'm aro and honestly really like the Hanahaki trope- i'm writing my own novella about someone getting Hanahaki for someone who's aro and it talks a lot about the problematic aspects of it, so it was really cool to see your reply putting things i've been thinking into words. especially when so many other aro ppl hate the trope. wishing u well

[empty paragraph in case tumblr eats it]

(response in question linked here)

hi!

honestly, I think as a trope it makes so very much sense that hanahaki appeals to people - it’s sort of a combination of many people’s fears, an externalization of feelings that are hard to describe, and situations many people experience something reminiscent of. those categories can be fun playgrounds for plots. and, honestly, I shied away from my main point in that initial response. I worry that when we care about things being “unproblematic”, we’ve well... lost the plot of social activism.

when we refuse to talk about nuance, the why, the how, the ways in which people may respond differently to the same situation, etc, the gray zones become uncomfortable and unspeakable. all too often, I feel like that gray zone is microaggressions and history and intersections. I totally get that sometimes, it’s nice to just have a Good Guy and a Bad Guy. but I worry that people forget that it’s important to still talk about what makes things good and bad. we can’t just... label everything as one or the other.

To connect that back - when we try to make a trope that by nature was always about being problematic (ie, always about uncomfortable feelings, always about a lose/lose situation and wondering, can we win it, and what does that take?) “unproblematic”, we ignore the history. It feels much to me like the ways in which my K-12 education pretended that all of history was actually about people caring deeply about others. “European explorers wanted to spread Christianity because they wanted everyone to go to heaven!” It certainly, certainly had nothing to do with anything else, ever, in those descriptions. They read as unproblematic - you weren’t horrifying kids, right? You kept it to a maturity they could appreciate? But what were we avoiding? What were we ignoring as problems always, always for later, which never came?

I like letting people explore those topics. I want people to question why things are good and bad and in between. I hate the focus on “problematic” vs “unproblematic” because black and white morality doesn’t teach.

Are you more likely to follow a safety rule - especially one that you may not feel inclined to follow - because you were told “doing the thing is bad”, or “here’s why this is in place”? Or, say this rule is weirdly... vague, or too specific. “Do not operate heavy machinery while starting this medication until you know how it affects you” - how is the average person supposed to know that includes driving cars without a nuanced discussion? “Use two pairs of gloves while cleaning this machinery” - how were you to know that it was determined that those two pairs would protect you for long enough that, if you forgot to unplug the machine, you could probably respond in time to not lose a finger if you accidentally leaned and turned the machine on? Not everyone will listen, of course, and you probably need to prioritize when you introduce nuance and when you don’t. But.

Nuance and discussion exist for a reason - and while fiction isn’t obligated to portray it, we do ourselves a disservice when we pretend there was never any nuance to discuss.

- mod kee

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XII

Part I - - - - - - Part II - - - - - - - - - - - -  Part X - - - - - - Part XI

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“We cannot delay much longer” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi said gravely. “Rumors are spreading like wildfire throughout the temple, and Master Kenobi’s absence is not going unnoticed among the troops.”

Master Fisto sighed and his hologram rippled. “As much as I dislike deliberate falsehoods, I think it might be best for morale if we keep- the truth, as we understand, under wraps as much as possible. Young Ashoka is deeply shaken. I myself...” the Nautolan sighed again, running a hand through his tendrils anxiously.

“Not to mention the fact that Master Kenobi might have a valid reason for mistrusting the Chancellor so strongly” Master Gallia added darkly. “Of course I’m not saying we should charge him with anything based on Kenobi’s scattered words alone, but given the chance that this was proceeded by some hypernaturally prescient event, some form of precaution seems warranted.”

Yoda hummed in reply, looking weary. “Fallen ill, Obi-Wan has, tell the Chancellor and the Admiralty, we shall. Incapable of visitors. Still unknown to us, the cause is. Overwork, we suspect. Truth, it may be?” he finished, turning to Master Windu.

Mace leaned back. “I’ve shared everything relevant. We still don’t know anything with absolute certainty. It is my hope that the healers will call upon our more powerful telepaths for assistance later today, should their other efforts continue to prove unsuccessful.” he added with a glance at Master Koon.

"In the mean time,” Master Tiin interjected. “We must discuss the situation in the Expansion Region! As much as we had hoped to delay the Unumbran until Master Kenobi was capable of leading the 212th-”

“That is no longer plausible, if ever it was.” Plo-Koon interrupted softly.

“You may be best suited for the task, Master Tiin” Windu offered. “Your 407th was intended to accompany the 212th, in any case.”

Saesee Tiin reared back, alarmed. “I’m honored, but as I’ve already explained to the council, my skills as a pilot and Shocktroop leader are best utilized at a lower command level. I’m certain there’s a better suited replacement for Kenobi, at least for the short term. What about Skywalker? He is Kenobi’s protegee, and more familiar with working directly with the 212th.”

“You are a veteran with considerable more experience than young Skywalker. You would truly trust his judgement over your own?” Shaak Tii asked skeptically.

“As a General? Absolutely. I’ve seen what he’s capable of.” Master Tiin confirmed.

Koon pushed back, disapproving. “Regardless of his skill, I don’t believe he is in the best mindset for such a task at the moment.”

“Will he be held back from the front entirely?” Master Koth asked, frowning. “That would mean reworking our forces considerably.”

Before Mace was forced to add his own concerns about Anakin’s role in the war, they were interrupted by a priority message from the Chancellor’s office.

Exchanging looks, the assembled council straightened in their seats, nodding one by one at Master Windu, who finally accepted the incoming call.

A full scale live holo of Chancellor Palpatine opened at the front of the room.

“Ah, I see the full council is here. I thank you humbly for accepting my call so quickly.” He said to the room with a smooth bow of the head.

Exchanging a glance with Mace, Master Yoda answered, “Of course, Chancellor. Serve the senate, we do. Help you how, can we?”

A troubled expression crossed Palpatine’s expression. “I recently heard the most terrible rumor about poor General Kenobi. I was hoping the Council could clear up the truth of the matter.”

“Hmm. Dangerous things, rumors are. Careful with them, you are wise to be.” Yoda said. Everyone in the room expertly stifled a smile at Yoda’s unrivaled skill at vague topic evasion.

The Chancellor was far too practiced a politician to allow irritation to cross his expression. “Thank you for that wisdom Master Yoda. Now what exactly is the condition of the High General of the Third System Army?”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “Plagued by sickness, Master Kenobi is. Unable to wake him, our best healers are.”

Palpatine gasped. “How horrid! Surely this must be some insidious Separatist plot! What else could have felled such a powerful Jedi.”

“Immune to illness, Not even the Jedi are. Still investigating the cause, are we. Discussing who should care for his troops, when you called, we were.”

“Oh, how dreadful, that we are forced to discuss such mundanities as troop movements when a good friend’s life might hang in the balance! Please, if there’s anything I or the Senate can do to help, you have my personal support in accessing the finest healers.”

“Very kind of you, that is. But well cared for, Master Kenobi is. Will help, a rest from the stress of war, we hope. Do our best to keep the news contained, we shall. Risk inspiring fear in the public, we do not wish.”

“Indeed! That is very wise thing to fear. Do not worry, I will ensure that any security leaks are taken care myself if need be.”

Master Windu finally spoke, tone and posture absolutely neutral. “Thank you, Chancellor. If there’s nothing else, we will return to planning our strategy during Master Kenobi’s unfortunate but necessary leave of absence from the front.” 

“Of course! When you are finished, would you be so kind as to send General Skywalker to brief me on what you decide?”

“That won’t be necessary, Chancellor. I’m more than happy to come in person to brief you myself” Windu replied in the same placid voice. 

“Oh, I’m certain that as Master of the Order you have more important tasks to do than talk to an old man such as myself! And as you know, I consider Anakin a friend of mine. It will do me good to check in on him myself, I’m sure you understand.”

“As you have so kindly reminded us in the past, nothing outweighs a Jedi’s duty to the Senate of the Republic. As Master of the Order, I consider discussing the matter with you a top priority. And as for Skywalker- your concern is of course appreciated. I’m sure, given your friendship, you will respect our decision to give the young man some time off from council obligations to meditate over his concern for his friend and former Master. We would be happy to pass on an informal invitation to meet with you, if you wish.”

Palpatine was silent for a moment. “How...very kind of you to respect their close bond with one another. Yes, please do pass on my personal invitation of support to Anakin. And my offer of non-Jedi medical consultation.”

“I will do so as soon as our meeting has finished. Thank you again Chancellor.”

Palpatine nodded briefly then closed the connection, hologram winking out of existence.

“Unaware, I was, a leave of absence from his duties, we were giving Knight Skywalker.” Yoda said with a raised brow.

“The full matter will need to wait until Master Kenobi wakes, but for now, trust me when I say that we should at least discuss possible replacement leadership for both the 212th and the 501st.”

The council grumbled at that, but Mace quelled any arguments with a severe look. 

“Very well.” Shaak Tii relented, pulling up a datapad. “Jedi Masters currently without troops to command include several shadows that we could hypothetically pull from their duties, as well as Master Krell after the tragic loss of his last division...”

---

“My Lord! This is an unexpected honor! How may I-”

“Save your simpering, Tyrannus.” The hooded figure hissed. “It appears we have a new player in the game.”

“To whom are you referring, my lord?” Dooku responded, thinking quickly. Of course both Sith were constantly instigating power plays amongst the Republic and Seperatist leadership, but nothing dramatic came to mean.”  

“You mean to tell me you don’t know?” Sideous replied with a wicked smirk. “How disappointing. I had thought your spy network better than that, particularly when it comes to your favorite lineage member.”

Dooku paused. “I was aware that Kenobi had missed the most recent major mixed war briefing. Do you mean to tell me he has begun to move against you, my lord?”

“My, my. Your sources truly are failing you, Darth Tyrannus. Quite the opposite is true. It appears that someone has managed to land a blow where our combined efforts had previously proven fruitless.”

“A blow against Kenobi? On Coruscant? That is...an interesting development” 

“Indeed. Find out everything you can. Whoever has succeeded has done so in such a manner as to utterly rattle the High Council. I’ve never seen them so deliciously shaken.”

“I see. And what of your favorite of my lineage? I assume you are managing to use the situation against him gracefully as ever.”

Palpatine’s smirk fell into twisted snarl. “The boy is despondent of course. My lack of warning means that I was unable to position myself advantageously in advance. And now he is refusing to answer messages, while the council has chosen to give him time off. Bah. Of all the times to attend to their Chosen one’s emotional wellbeing...”

Dooku drew himself up, expression betraying nothing. “Forgive me my lord, but any information you can provide me would help in my search to find our ‘new player’ as it were. I have never known the council to be so...soft with a knight when his former Master was simply in sickbay. Do you mean to tell me that Obi-Wan Kenobi has passed into the force?” His tone, haughtily impassive throughout the conversation, grew a touch disbelieving at the very end.

“My sources tell me he is ‘unwakeable’ but given the boy’s anger and grief, not to mention the fact that his force signature is practically non-existent... I suspect his condition may very well be critical. Find out the rest.  Do not fail me again, Tyrannus.”

The connection cutoff abruptly, leaving Dooku alone in the dimly lit room. He strode out, sealing the private chamber behind him and calling out. 

“Ventress! Attend me at once- I have an urgent assignment for you...”

Part XIII

[stxphxn-strange]

(no) rest for the innocent

summary: Tony wasn’t even on trial, but the jury found him guilty and he couldn’t disagree.

a/n: idk last night i was thinking about tony dealing w survivor’s guilt after endgame (and IW) so i threw this together, tw for mention of death and implied thoughts of suicide

“Good evening, Doctor.” FRIDAY’s warm, pleasant voice always reminded Stephen of home and cinnamon scented candles. “How was your trip?” 

“Too long for a meeting that could’ve been handled over email. Or through carrier pigeon, as Tony would say,” Stephen replied as his cloak sailed off down the hall. 

He washed his hands carefully, drying them on an Iron Man dish towel that Peter had given them as a joke wedding gift before putting the kettle on. 

As the water was boiling, he noticed a covered plate on the kitchen counter. There was an obnoxiously orange piece of paper in front of it, which made Stephen smile. Tony always left him little notes on purposefully electrifying paper, that way they were easy to find. 

The sorcerer’s smile only widened as he read the note. 

Steph— 

I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but I decided to make you dinner anyway. But not because I’m missing you and wanted to surprise you, I just accidentally cooked too much. You know how that happens sometimes and you just end up with an ungodly amount of chicken parm? Life’s funny like that. 

Anyway, I’m in the lab. I had some good ideas earlier and I wanted to start them while I still felt productive. Welcome home sweetheart, and if you go to bed before I do (because you probably will, you responsible asshole you), sweet dreams and goodnight. 

Love, Tones

PS— Orange you glad you met me? … don’t answer that, I just couldn’t help it and had to write that down. 

Stephen rolled his eyes fondly. “Fri, will you tell Tony that even though he’s not funny, I’m very glad I met him?” 

FRIDAY was quiet for a few moments before responding. “Boss says, quote, ‘fuck you Gandalf, I’m hilarious,’ unquote.” 

Stephen smiled, heating up his meal before sitting down to eat. He flipped through a magazine while he ate, FRIDAY turning on some soft jazz music as background noise until Stephen cleaned up and left the kitchen. After a refreshing shower, the sorcerer found himself in his most comfortable pjs and slippers as he walked through the house. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was going to bed yet, but he wanted to see Tony (and maybe he wanted a kiss or two or even three). 

The music in the lab automatically lowered when Stephen shut the door behind him, and Tony looked up with an expression that could only be described as tired. 

Actually, he looked exhausted. Weary. Barely holding himself together. Stephen wasn’t a thesaurus, but very concerned about his husband. 

Tony was trying to smile, but he seemed too exhausted to do that and just gave up, not saying anything as Stephen sat beside him. 

“Hi.” Stephen leaned over and softly kissed his husband’s temple. “Thanks for cooking for me, you didn’t have to.” 

Tony shrugged. “I had a lot of energy earlier, and I accidentally cooked way too much. Maybe it was intentional, you know I’d take any excuse to go out of my way for you.” 

His words said one thing, but his tone betrayed him. His voice was brittle, hard, and almost staticky. Stephen thought he sounded like a rusted hinge that was trying not to cry out for repairs… or maybe that analogy only made sense given where they were. 

Stephen kissed him again as Tony sat back at his desk, closing his well-used sketchbook. “You alright?” 

“Yeah. Tired I guess.” Tony sounded as unconvinced as Stephen felt. 

“Come to bed with me,” Stephen offered. “I’ll bore you to sleep by telling you about the meeting.” 

Tony laughed hollowly. “That bad?” 

“I don’t know how to describe it, but it was a waste of time. Even Wong was bored, and he watches the Antiques Roadshow remake for fun,” Stephen replied. He yawned and leaned against Tony’s side. 

“I see what you’re doing,” Tony murmured, trying to be lighthearted. He was just feeling some kind of way right now, he felt serious and was so endeared by his husband that it hurt. 

“What am I doing?” Stephen asked, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Being cute and sweet so I’ll go to bed and let you be the big spoon,” Tony accused. “And maybe I just really fucking need a hug, but… it’s working.” 

Stephen shifted and pulled Tony into his arms, holding the mechanic close as he went lax. 

“My Boss Is Singing Closing Time Protocol please, Fri,” Tony mumbled. 

“Goodnight Boss, goodnight Doctor,” the AI replied, beginning to run the lab’s standard closing protocol. 

“Portal?” Stephen asked. Tony was getting better with going through portals, but some days were harder than others. Stephen didn’t know what tonight would be like and opted to ask, selfishly wanting to make sure Tony got some rest as soon as possible. 

He was so out of it by that point that Stephen wasn’t sure if Tony registered the question, but he nodded slowly and trusted Stephen to lead him through it and into their bed. 

Despite “resembling a sloth clinging to a tree bough,” (Tony’s words) Stephen was intuitive and knew when not to hug Tony. Even when he was asleep, if Tony woke up thrashing or fighting against something in a dream, Stephen let him go. 

Tonight was a bit different. Stephen wasn’t brought to the edge of reality by Tony thrashing in their bed or accidentally tangling himself in their sheets, so he assumed everything was fine. That was until the sorcerer hugged his husband closer, still mostly asleep and just following his instinct, and Tony outright begged Stephen to let go of him. He wasn’t quite awake, but Stephen backed off immediately and heard Tony trip over his own feet as he left the room. The sorcerer fell asleep again after that, trying to stop the sound of Tony’s broken plea from cementing itself in his memory. When Tony climbed back into bed some time later, Stephen was stirring a little bit more. Tony hid his face in Stephen’s collarbone and said nothing, his breathing still slightly erratic. 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he mumbled. 

“Don’ be,” Stephen replied, his voice unsure whether or not to wake up. 

“Will you hold me again?” Tony asked pleadingly, his voice almost imperceptible. 

Stephen wordlessly obliged, kissing the top of his head. “Whatever’s bothering you… you can talk to me about it. When you’re ready. And you don’t have to, but I’m here for you.” 

Tony nodded. “It feels like too much right now. What I’m thinking about, I mean. I need time to process, I guess.” 

“Okay,” Stephen said simply. “But I’m here for you whenever.”

“I know. I love you,” Tony replied. 

Stephen began to trace soothing patterns on Tony’s back. “Love you Tones.” 

++++

Tony didn’t seem any more rested the next day, but his confident Tony Stark™ pose seemed natural. He’d easily be able to fool people who didn’t know him as well as his family did. So it was a “fake it until you make it” kind of day, and Tony’s energy was on a strict schedule. There was only so much he could take today, and if his teammates wanted to call him selfish then that was their choice. 

It would just go in one ear and out the other, especially this late in the day and after brutal team training. Tony was close to skipping the meeting, but a cutting remark in the hallway made him change his mind. Why did they always act like it was breaking news when Tony needed to step back from something anyway? He was just as human as anyone else, and the world was happy to throw responsibilities on his unenhanced, steady shoulders just because he was a natural caretaker. 

The arguments about Tony’s quiet, withdrawn demeanor started two minutes into the meeting. Stephen was ready to defend his husband as soon as they got to the conference room, Tony collapsing into a chair and leaning his head against the cool metal of the table. 

He didn’t want to talk today, and Stephen didn’t want him to. 

“It’s not nap time, Stark.” There was a small hint of fondness in Natasha’s cold, clipped voice. 

Tony was already regretting his decision to show up, wishing he hadn’t told Stephen again and again that he was fine. He wasn’t, and they both knew it. Everyone knew it, but Tony knew better than to advocate for himself in front of his… colleagues. 

“I don’t even remember what we’re meeting about,” Tony muttered, looking up enough to address whoever was talking to him. 

Rhodey took a seat beside Tony, encouragingly patting his back. “You good?” 

“I’m fine, Honeybear,” Tony replied. He was sitting between his two favorite people, and that helped him feel a little more grounded. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Someone scoffed. “I don’t think anyone’s slept right in months. And don’t say you haven’t slept in years, Stark. We don’t need a story about how everything you’ve ever done has led to years of sleepless nights. We know already. Put it in a book or something and make the team more money so I can have better arrows.” 

Stephen was two seconds away from dropping the archer into the Dark Dimension, or flipping a table. He wasn’t sure how to handle the man yet, still taken aback by the rudeness and stupidity of his comment. “Barton, what the fuck—” 

“Steph, don’t bother with him,” Tony said. He stood up, forcing his tiredness into a corner and giving his coworkers a confident glare. “Pardon me for giving it my all and being a bit tired as a result. Now I’m going to get an ice pack for my shoulder and maybe a cup of coffee. Does anyone want anything?” 

“I’ll take a—”

“Get it yourself, you know where the kitchen is.” 

For dramatic effect (and moral support), the cloak landed on Tony’s shoulders and billowed out as he left the room. He returned with the aforementioned ice and coffee, and a mug of tea for Stephen. 

“You didn’t have to do that sweetheart, but thank you,” Stephen said appreciatively. 

“That’s why I wanted to,” Tony replied. He relaxed a little into his chair, starting to believe he could get through the meeting. 

Then, like clockwork, Clint opened his mouth to complain. 

“Why did you bring him tea and nothing for the rest of us?” He whined. 

“Doesn’t Tony do enough for you?” Stephen asked, innocently taking a sip of his tea. It was his afternoon green tea, made exactly the way he liked it. 

Tony was always so sweet and attentive with his loved ones, it warmed Stephen’s heart. The sorcerer stifled a laugh as Rhodey poured half of Tony’s coffee into his own empty mug. 

“Thank you,” the colonel said impishly. “Consider the roommate tax paid for this month.” 

Tony tried to smile at the old inside joke, but Stephen noticed that it fell flat. 

“Are we done with the interruptions? We need to talk about what’s out there. We don’t know if Thanos is the exception or the rule, and—”

Tony stopped listening. Clint’s snootiness was doing his head in, but the idea of another threat, another thing, another colossus he’d have to conquer and survive if his luck had anything to say about it… that was the breaking point. 

Tony didn’t have a good relationship with luck. He didn’t really believe in it, but apparently it believed in him. Because Tony was lucky. It was true that he was lucky in meeting his husband, his friends, and his family, but this was a different kind of luck. Tony was intelligent and skilled, shrewd and savvy, and there was virtually nothing he couldn’t do or solve, except for one thing. 

He was constantly lucky, constantly cheating death. 

And he didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating, didn’t recall dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t recall that he’d just walked out in the middle of the meeting after a minute, didn’t realize that he was home when he opened his eyes. 

Tony was home, in his spot on the couch in Stephen’s library. Stephen was sitting beside him, quietly watching a documentary or something like that. Tony was laying down, his head in Stephen’s lap with the cloak draped over him like a blanket. The crimson fabric continued to cling to him as he sat up, further proving Tony’s point that Levi liked him best, but he wasn’t in the mood to banter now. He just appreciated the support and the warmth of his sorcerer and their shared, sentient blanket.

With some hesitancy, Tony leaned over and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. They locked eyes for a minute, Tony’s gaze deliriously bright and vacant. 

Stephen didn’t know what to say or do to make the man trembling in his arms feel better, but started by hugging him closer and softly stroking up and down his spine. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, lowering his head and hiding against Stephen’s chest. 

“No apologies,” Stephen reminded him. “I don’t want or need them, and you don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“I have to give a good reason,” Tony said, his voice beginning to shake. “Everything I do needs a reason.” 

“Why? Says who?” Stephen asked. He was more thinking aloud, half expecting Tony to leave the question unanswered. 

For a while, he did. He just sat, furiously trying to blink back tears and gather his thoughts as Stephen held him protectively. 

“Sometimes I think about… things,” Tony began vaguely. “And people. And places. I guess I just like nouns.” 

At this point, he didn’t even know if he was trying to deflect or just tell a joke, but his attempt at humor fell flat. He tried to force a laugh, but halfway through it turned into a painful sob. He cried harder with each breath, ignoring the ache in his chest. Tony barely listened when Stephen encouraged him to breathe, but eventually he gave into his exhaustion and listened to his lungs. 

His stupid lungs, which apparently were just as stubborn as his brain. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Tony whispered. “I shouldn’t have survived Afghanistan, New York, Sokovia, Siberia, or Titan. I can’t keep cheating death, Stephen. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be lucky and survive when the damage I’ve caused, the damage I claim full responsibility for, has taken so many lives. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed for me.” 

Stephen pressed a soft kiss to his hair, feeling Tony’s guit and fatigue as if it was his own. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Tony repeated. “I’m probably just spiraling or being needlessly selfish, but  I… I don’t know.” 

“You’re taking on too much responsibility where you don’t need to,” Stephen said. “I know that’s easy for me to just say from the outside, but you aren’t the only Avenger. It’s about time the team, if you can even call them that, takes accountability for their actions and stops bulldozing you with their problems. You aren’t selfish, Tones. You’re tired and overworked, and you deserve a break. You deserve to breathe, to just exist without feeling like you have to look over your shoulder or justify your every step.” 

“I don’t think I know how to even do that anymore,” Tony replied. “And I don’t deserve it.” 

“You do,” Stephen argued. “And rest assured I’ll keep telling you that. And I’ll keep telling you how much I love you, because I really do.” 

Tony smiled sadly, trying to press himself closer to Stephen if that was even possible. “I love you too.” 

He was starting to settle down, soothed by a flurry of soft kisses in his hair and the gentle brushes up and down his spine, when FRIDAY quietly spoke up. She almost sounded remorseful. 

“Mister Parker is requesting one or both of you in the lab, whenever it’s convenient,” she began. “And he’s asked me to assure you that it’s nothing major.” 

Tony sighed, sitting up again. “I’ll investigate.” 

Stephen shook his head. “No, let me. I’ll tell Peter that you’re resting, and he’ll understand.” 

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” Tony whispered. 

“He would never think that. You know how he gets about making sure you take care of yourself, and Peter knows with certainty that you care about him. Our son is much more mature than the Avengers,” Stephen replied. 

“I still feel bad,” Tony said. 

“I know. I can promise him Thai food if that’ll make you feel better?” Stephen suggested, half jokingly. 

“It actually would,” Tony admitted. “FRIDAY, will you schedule a Thai food delivery for 6:30pm please?” 

“Scheduled,” she replied simpy. She still sounded apologetic for disturbing them right as Tony was falling asleep, but maybe Stephen imagined that. 

The sorcerer stood up gracefully, covering Tony with another blanket as the cloak wrapped a bit tighter around him. “Look after yourself and relax, or get some sleep. No one’s expecting anything from you right now Tones, alright? I love you.” 

Tony nodded, a little smile on his face as Stephen kissed him again. “Love you.” 

He really wanted to sleep. He actually put effort into falling asleep, which was something he never thought he’d do, and of course sleep didn’t come easily. Sleep never came easily, but the memories did. It was all too easy for Tony to get caught in a thought stream, whether he was planning a surprise, inventing, or remembering unpleasantries. Today he was overwhelmed by guilt, readily convincing himself that he was a selfish failure like Howard Stark and his teammates liked to say. It was too easy to get lost in their ire and wanting to please everyone, and Tony had given up so much of his agency just to try and make other people happy. 

It was exhausting, and he didn’t even feel like he’d succeeded at that. 

The mechanic started tearing up again as he continued to think in a circular pattern, faintly aware of the Cloak trying to comfort him. It was a sweet, welcome gesture, and Tony let it happen and let himself cry. He was still laying there in tears when Stephen came back in half an hour later.

“Pete says he hopes you feel better,” Stephen said, returning to his spot and pulling Tony close. “And I told him to just go ahead and eat whenever he’s hungry, or when the food gets here.” 

Tony just nodded, feeling relieved and supported in Stephen’s arms again. He nodded again, as if trying to shake the unending self-deprecating thoughts from his head, before saying anything. “Sounds good.”

tags: @salty-ironstrange-shipper @stark-strange-love2 @chocopiggy @katninjagirl97 @kitkatfat15 @taruyison @funkylittlebidiot

[msoogabooga]

Wasting Away (Tom Riddle x Reader)

Chp. I - A Sworn Enemy

Warnings- None

Word Count- 2146

Summary- You have singlehandedly decided that Tom Riddle is to be your sworn enemy until the end of time.

A/N- Hello! This is my first chaptered Tom Riddle fic. Hope you enjoy and tune in for more!

•••

Tom Riddle was the loneliest boy that had ever existed. You were certain of it whenever you witnessed him walk alone in the corridors or when he picked at his food in the great hall while everyone around him chattered amongst themselves, leaving him be. Ever so often you take a glance at his parchment paper in Defense Against the Dark Arts, where he sits next to you, and you catch him writing lines of beauty. Words that flow together and create great works of art. That is until he catches you staring and covers his paper with his arm, not before cursing under his breath at you of course.

Oh yes, though you felt a sense of pity for the lonely boy, you swore to hate him until the day he died. It wasn’t always this way, of course. You wouldn’t be so cruel as to hate an innocent peer. In fact, you even thought to befriend him of course. The unforgivable day happened outside on the castle grounds. It had been raining quite heavily that day. You ran through the downpour of the storm as your house scarf floated behind you and your mary janes began to stain from the wet dirt. You had finally reached the shelter of an arched corridor and began drying yourself with your scarf. A sudden clatter startled you as you turned your head towards the direction of the noise. The black-haired Slytherin boy was crouched on the ground picking up a bundle of textbooks and parchment papers he had dropped. He began to grow more frustrated when he realized they had become soaked from the seeping rainwater that came through the window. With a pitiful frown, you rushed over to help him.

“Better the books than yourself,” You said with a smile, acknowledging your rained-out state as you began to pick up pieces of parchment. “The storm came so suddenly. I hardly had any time to rush to safety and, well, this happened. I was playing Quidditch you see. It was a bit cloudy, sure, but not even the greatest prophecies could’ve predicted this storm. You’re quite lucky, though. You don’t seem to have a drop on you, except on your schoolwork of course.” Tom Riddle snatches the parchment from your hands so fast that it leaves you with a papercut on your hand. You wince and take your hand back before shooting him a glare.

“Do you mock me?” He spat.

“I was just trying to help,” you explained with a grumble in your voice. “You didn’t have to be so harsh.”

“What makes you think you are allowed to talk to me?” Tom picks up the rest of his items and stands up. You stood up right after.

“Well excuse me all high and mighty. I didn’t know I needed to sign a prerequisite form before daring to stand in your presence. As I said, I was just trying to be of some assistance.”

“I never asked for any assistance. You’re making me seem pitiful.”

“Or maybe, get this, I was just trying to be nice!”

Tom scoffs. “Nice? Yeah, alright.” He makes a sharp turn and begins walking in the opposite direction of yours.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout. “I don’t even know who you are!”

Tom stops. He began walking towards you once more. You take a step back, unsure of what caused him to turn around. “Of course you don’t. I don’t expect you to. But I know everything I need to know about you. You’re the type of person to befriend a lonely kid because you feel it’s your moral obligation. Because you think that this will help boost your popularity points. Don’t think I don’t see right through you. I see the way your friends whisper and giggle at me in the corridors. You may not think I hear it but I do. So if you think you’re going to make a fool out of me for your own benefit then you’re clearly mistaken. So you can go back to your friends and tell them all about our interaction because I know you will. Now, goodbye.”

He walked away before you even had a chance to respond. You wanted to clarify. To say that you don’t approve of your friends gossiping. That you genuinely meant to help him out. But your saltiness took over and you only replied with, “AT LEAST I HAVE FRIENDS.”

You were unsure if he heard you or not because he had already disappeared from view. But you were satisfied. You knew who he was, obviously. That part was a lie. Tom Riddle was quite infamous for his knowledge in Defense Against the Dark Arts and is an acclaimed member of the Slug Club as well as yourself. You had even made eye contact with him a few times while you had dinner with Slughorn and the rest of the Slug Club. But you never expected this innocently kind looking boy to be so cruel at your act of kindness. You didn’t know much about him but you did know one thing: Tom Riddle was now your sworn enemy.

This is made extremely evident at his increasing side glare while you two sit together in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not by choice, of course. Assigned seating was never more painful than this moment right here. Still, the most you can do is glare back while everyone silently reads. You open your textbook as a way to distract yourself and flip to the unit you are currently on. Iguanas, iguanas, iguanas. Though you are puzzled as to how they were linked to dark magic, you took down notes anyway. You follow the pattern of dipping your quill in ink and writing line after line. All while you feel the hot glare of Tom’s eyes on the back of your neck. The bell signifying the end of class rings and you take a sigh of relief. Enthusiastically to get out of there, you begin gathering your materials, scooping your textbook in your arms all at once. Tom clears his throat quite obnoxiously enough to gain your attention.

“You miswrote something.” Tom states. You shoot him a dazzled look. “In your notes. I couldn’t help but look at your sorry excuse for parchment paper. It just reeked of misinformation. Sure enough, you wrote down that iguanas were omnivores when they are in fact herbivores.”

“Since when do you care so much about iguanas?” You ask, raising your eyebrow at him. “And why do you even care about what I write in the first place?”

“Well, one, I don’t. And two, I would just rather not be sitting next to the girl who got low marks on the iguanas exam. It would be quite embarrassing to witness.”

“Oh go suck an egg,” You retaliate. Tom Riddle scoffs and leaves without responding to your comment and your best friend, Wendy Slinkhard, replaces him.

You had met Wendy in the Slug Club. She was top of the Ravenclaw class, earning high marks that introduced her into the Slughorn's group. The first thing you noticed about her was the way her doe-eyes lit up every time someone mentioned writing. It was all she ever talked about. Her grand aspiration to become a famous author in the wizarding world. She had quite a euphonious voice when describing her life, casually mentioning the fact that she is indeed muggleborn and unafraid of any criticism. How her entire family is made up of writers and she is thrilled to follow the legacy. She had the most elegant way of describing things you had ever seen, almost like works of poetry roll off her tongue. When you ask how she comes up with these unique words she just responds with, The wizarding world seems to give a great muse to the imagination. Whatever that means, you are unsure, but it seems important enough.

“Well hello there,” Wendy says in her wispy voice. “Seems you have quite a charmer for a partner.” She looks over to Tom Riddle who has just left the room.

“Right.” You reply, getting ready to leave alongside Wendy. “It’s like nails on a chalkboard every time he speaks. I’m telling you, Wendy. You couldn’t bear sitting next to him for an hour.”

“Oh, I am sure of it. I’m not sure if I feel too keen about my partner as well. He is, to put it shortly, not quite attentive. Constantly asking me for notes or an extra quill, it’s quite annoying really! But overall, nothing compared to who you have to deal with. Tom Riddle. I always knew there was something off about that lad. Merlin knows why Professor Slughorn chose him of all pupils for the Slug Club.”

“Well he is exceptional at the Dark Arts, I’ll give him that. He has such a crude way of showing it as well. Constantly showing me up. Making me seem as inferior in knowledge as opposed to himself. A real nightmare.”

“Well, if it means anything to you, nothing good can ever come from being exceptional at the Dark Arts.” Wendy gives a slim smile and nods.

You and Wendy walk alongside each other on your way to your next class. Coincidentally, both of your classes are right next to each other. Though you really do miss having her in the same class. You speak to no one in History of Magic. You just sit alone with your face in your hands, hearing your professor go on and on about some troll war you don’t care too much about. Your quill picks up every once in a while to jot down scribbles of information. Something, something... Troll War. Not the most exciting subject if you were to be honest. But it sure beats suffering another hour with Tom Riddle constantly pointing out every minor flaw in your notes. Something about your professor’s voice sends you into a bit of a drowsy state. The way his words flowed so slowly and sterile. Slowly bringing you closer and closer into a…

“Wow. You look bloody awful.” You jolt awake at the sound of Dahlia Ferdinand looking down on you. She is dressed in her Hufflepuff Quidditch jumper and stands with arms crossed and a smirk spread across her face. You lift your head from the desk and detach a piece of parchment that had stuck on your face.

“How long has class been over?” You ask groggily.

“For about an hour, give or take.”

“She’s joking!” Wendy calls out, running into the room and standing beside Dahlia. She adjusts her giant red glasses and flattens her skirt. “Only a few minutes. No need to be so childish, Dahlia.”

“Oh come on. You never appreciate any of my jokes.”

“Dahlia, you know I hate your immature remarks. They are plain and unfunny.”

Dahlia rolls her eyes. “You must be real fun at parties.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been invited to one.”

“Don’t worry. We can tell.”

You let out a snicker before covering it up with a cough. Wendy, seeing right through you, shoots you a glare before adjusting her glasses once more.

“Speaking of parties…” Dahlia continues, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a green envelope. “Marcella Rosier invited me to the Slytherin common room party tomorrow night. From what I gather it’s going to be a grand event. Her uncle supposedly is bringing in firewhisky from Hog’s Head. Naturally, I expect you two to come with me.”

“Firewhisky, Dahlia?!” Wendy interjects before you can respond. “You know that is very much against the school rules. Not only that but against the law as well. And don’t even get me started on the policy of dorm-hopping in the middle of the night. I don’t even trust that Rosier girl to begin with. I’ve heard a load of terrible things involving her. Why are you even friends with such a person?”

“You know, Wendy, you sound like nails on a chalkboard sometimes. A simple no could do. What about you?” Dahlia responds, now addresses you.

“Oh,” You say suddenly. “Well if you’re going then I guess I’ll go as well.”

“So will I,” Wendy adds on, much to both you and Dahlia’s surprise. “Only to drag Dahlia out and scold her when she gets carried away with the firewhisky which I know she will.”

Wendy and Dahlia glare at each other and you cough. “I promise you, Wendy, that I will keep Dahlia outside range of the firewhisky.”

Wendy nods, satisfied. The three of you go your separate ways. You head straight to your dormitory, ignoring all work assigned for this weekend and your rude encounters with Tom Riddle. You raid your closet and begin the hunt for an acceptable outfit to wear to the biggest party of the semester.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

pragma - part twenty-five

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: ANGST and SMUT towards the end - unprotected sex (the desperate, needy type), dirty talk from Frankie.

A/N: I’ve missed this story so much! For a while there I had no idea where I wanted to go with it, but I finally found some inspiration!

Summary: You thought things would be better but your insecurities and doubts will not stop nagging you.

[pragma masterlist]

You woke to the sound of loud music and the smell of breakfast food coming from downstairs. You usually didn’t mind it, but after yesterday you were kind of hoping to sleep in. Your eyes closed and you ended up falling asleep again.

That was until Frankie came into the bedroom to wake you up. He had a tray of food in his hands and he was smiling brightly.

“Good morning, baby,” he said, giving you a quick kiss.

“What’s all this?” you asked.

“What’s it look like? Breakfast in bed.” He waited for you to sit up so he could place the tray on your lap.

“I know but…why?”

“Just because,” he said but you knew there was more to it. You looked at him for a moment before looking down at the food. He eventually spoke up. “I guess I’m trying to make up for yesterday.”

“I thought we dealt with it,” you said before taking a sip of orange juice.

“Yeah but you still seem a little…upset.” He looked at you then touched your face gently. You didn’t lean into his touch the way you usually did. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

He sighed. “Are you still upset about yesterday?”

“Frankie…I know you wouldn’t cheat on me…,” you started.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“What do you want me to say?” you snapped. You didn’t mean to but you were frustrated. Everything seemed to fix itself yesterday, but apparently there was more and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“I want you to tell me if you’re still upset,” he said.

You removed the tray of food from your lap and covered your face. “I am.”

“Are you sure you’re upset? Or are you jealous?” he asked and you slowly looked up at him from your place in bed. You threw the sheet off and got out of bed, stomping around and away from him. “Shit,” he said quietly.

“Jealous,” you mumbled. “Fuck you.”

“What else do you want me to do?” he asked as he followed you.

“Nothing. I need…air.” You grabbed your jacket and walked out into the morning air. He followed, of course, but stayed quiet. You weren’t sure what to say. Were you jealous? You had no reason to be and yet… “When was the last time you slept with her?” you asked, dreading the answer.

“What? I…I don’t know,” he said and you looked at him.

“When?”

“Night before you showed back up,” he confessed.

“So…you two were together when I came back?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess. It wasn’t serious at all. I broke it off with her not long after.” Frankie knew the truth was better than making something up.

“Hopefully before we…kissed and…more.” You hugged yourself.

“Of course before that.”

“You broke up with her because of me?” You looked down at the ground.

“I-I don’t know. You coming back just-"

“Complicated things?” You laughed bitterly. “My ex-husband always called me a complication. I guess he was right.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t bring that asshole up.”

“I guess it was only fair that you moved on. I have no right to be jealous.” Tears filled your eyes. “I left you. You had no obligation to just sit around and wait for me to come back.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” Frankie said quietly.

“I am so jealous and it makes me so angry,” you bit out, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I have no right but…I hate her,” you admitted. “I have no real reason to.”

“I…don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Nothing at all. You just have to let me cry.” You turned to walk back into the house. “You should go home, Frankie. I think it’ll be for the best.”

***

You hadn’t eaten or slept right since he went back home. You always hated being away from him, but this time was worse. Way worse. Some days you couldn’t even get out of bed. You really believed everything would be okay after you two talked, but it wasn’t. Maybe he was okay but you sure weren’t.

He would text to check on you and you would respond but it never went beyond three or four messages. You missed him more than anything and you were sure he missed you just as much. It was ridiculous how many times you wanted to call him and ask him if he wanted to come over for dinner, but you couldn’t. You were still bitter and hurt from what happened. Did you have a reason to be? Not really.

You knew Frankie would respect your wish for space but sometimes you wish he wouldn’t. Sometimes you wish he would be a little rebellious and just show up, tell you to snap out of it, and that he loves you.

As you settled in for another lonely night with take out leftovers, you began crying. You were sad and angry, but how dare you be? You had moved on back then. Frankie had had every right to do the same. But you couldn’t get her fucking face out of your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about him kissing her, touching her…fucking her.

Your heart had belonged to him even when you were apart. All those nights your ex-husband would leave you alone, you would always think of Frankie and what he might be doing. And now that you knew, it made you sick to your stomach.

You laughed bitterly. You were so jealous and you hated yourself for it. Frankie was in love with you now. He was yours so why all the dramatics?

How could he keep her number? you thought. He had been with her the night before you came back…

“Fuck,” you murmured. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

And that time you met her—how comfortable she was flirting with him like you weren’t even there. You had stood up to her, but what if Frankie didn’t want you to. What if he knew she’d be there?

“This is so stupid,” you mumbled, looking down at the food you had absolutely no appetite for. Soon you were picking up your phone and texting him.

Are you gonna leave me for her? You hit send and waited for the reply to your dumb question. You could almost hear his exasperated sigh as he read the message. He didn’t respond yet but you still sent another.

Do you still love her?

You were afraid of the answer. But none came. And now you were sure you had pushed him far enough away that you had lost him. Maybe you only pushed him further into her arms by being like this.

You sat back on the couch and closed your eyes, the sleep you had been missing out on finally catching up to you.

Knock, knock, knock. You jolted awake and stared at the door, rubbing at the crick in your neck. This time the knocks came harder and you jumped.

“Open the door!” Frankie shouted.

“Frankie,” you whispered. He knocked again as you stood and walked to the door slowly. When he opened it, he gave you a look and you quickly pulled the door open wider, letting him inside. “Why are you knocking on my door like that?” you asked as if you had no idea.

“What is this?” he asked, holding the phone up to your face. “Why are you still asking me about her?”

“I-"

“What do you want me to do? Would you rather I lied to you about her, huh? Tell me what you want me to do,” he said, pulling his hat off and throwing it down go run his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly as tears filled your eyes. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about you with her—doing all the things we do…you kissing her and touching her and-"

“Don’t say it,” he said before he began pacing. “You don’t think I don’t think about you and…that man? You don’t think I thought about you being in bed with a man who didn’t even deserve to be in the same space as you. He got to touch you and kiss you, too. He got to…be with you, take you whenever he wanted. You don’t think I think about that?” His voice was slightly louder but he wasn’t yelling.

“At least you know he’s actually gone,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Frankie scoffed and shook his head. “What do you want to do? Tell me.” He grabbed your upper arms gently and made you look at him. “I fucking love you and no one else. I don’t love her. I’m not fucking her. I don’t even think about her. I eat, drink, think, and breathe you. I live for you. I’m in love with you. You hear me?”

“Frankie…”

“You want me on my fucking knees? I’ll get on my knees.” He dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together before spreading them out. “Here I am. I am yours. That’s all I ever want to be.”

You dropped to your knees, joining him on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“I need you. I want you. Okay?” He cupped your face and you nodded, leaning into his touch. Then he was kissing you hard. It was needy and rougher than usual, but you wanted it. He pushed you onto your back so you were lying flat on the carpet before claiming your lips again. He pulled away to take his shirt off then went back to kissing you. Your hands went straight for his belt buckle and pulled until it hung loosely. His forehead was pressed to yours as you made quick work of the button and zipper.

“Frankie,” you whimpered. He pulled the t-shirt you wore up and over your head before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your sleep shorts. You were bare beneath him and he took you in, breathing heavily as his hands trailed over your naked body.

“You,” he breathed as he slid his hand between your legs and touched you. You cried out and arched into his touch. “You’re all I want.” His fingers moved in and out of you slowly as he scissored them, stretching you just for him. Before long you were coming on his fingers and he took them from you to taste. Afterwards, he stood to remove his pants before dropping to his knees again between your legs. You reached down and grabbed him making him groan and curse lowly.

“I’m yours,” you whispered right before he pushed into you. Your hands flew to his back and your nails dug in.

“Hold onto me,” he said in your ear before starting at a pace that had you crying out again. He pressed his forehead to yours as he pushed into you hard. You’d probably have rug burn after this but you didn’t care. He hissed as you scratched your nails down his back and dug your nails into his ass. “You,” he groaned. “I was made for you.”

“Yes,” you moaned. The sound of his skin hitting yours over and over again was a sound you had missed and didn’t know it. Suddenly, he grabbed your knees and pushed them back which made it feel like he was deeper than ever. “Oh, fuck! Frankie!”

“You feel that?” he breathed. “It’s yours. I have never fucked anyone the way I fuck you.” The words that came from him would have you stunned at any other time but right now they were what you needed to hear.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. You whimpered as his hand found its way between your legs. “You feel so good,” you cried. Frankie saw the tears and slowed down.

“You okay?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” you told him, and he snarled before picking up his pace again. He kissed you and you tangled your fingers into his hair.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he growled. Then his next words sent you reeling. “You’re the only one I wanna cum inside of,” he said. “You’re the only one who deserves it.” He pushed himself deep inside of you while his thumb rubbed against your clit firmly.

“Oh…shit!”

“I can feel you, baby. Do it for me.” He pressed his forehead to yours once again as he pounded into you. You kept your fingers in his hair and pulled hard as you came around him, your body trembling and twitching and squirming beneath him. Tears spilled from your eyes again as he relentlessly pumped in and out of you until he followed you with a loud groan of your name. You could feel him throb and twitch inside you and, God, did you miss that feeling.

“Frankie baby…” You wrapped your arms around him as he relaxed again and he rested against you, breathing heavily.

“Yours,” he said quietly against the skin of your neck. “I only ever wanted to be yours.”

“And I only ever wanted to be yours,” you told him as you ran your fingers through his hair which was now soaked with sweat.

You weren’t sure if the wetness against your neck was from sweat or something else until he sniffled. “I’m sorry,” he cried.

“No. I’m sorry.” You began to cry and he sat up to look down at you.

“Sorry for being so rough,” he said, wiping his eyes. “And…for saying those things.”

“Don’t be…I liked it.” You smiled up at him and he pulled out of you then pulled you up into his arms.

“Do you believe me, baby? Please say you do. All I want is you. It’s always been you, mi amor.” He hadn’t called you that in a while and it made your heart beat faster.

“I love you so much, Francisco.” You held onto him and cried against his chest and he let you.

“I love you more.” He cried his own tears. “Let’s get off this floor, hm?” He stood first then helped you to your feet. “Shower?”

“That sounds nice.”

He took your hand and squeezed as he led you upstairs. You always loved how perfectly your hand fit in his.

[twenty-six]

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[tarteausuga]

More than friends, less than lovers

Pairing: Ten x gender neutral (?) Male preferring reader

Genre: angst, fluff, best friends to lovers, little bit of sexual themes but not really

Warnings: implied sex, strong language

Word count: 1.7 words

Friends did not fully describe your relationship with Ten. Best friends is a bit closer but it still didn't fully encapsulate what you were to each other. Partners or lovers is too far of a stretch and friends with benefits was offensive to both of you. The two of you existed in this grey area and that's what you preferred. There was no social contract, there were no obligations, just an agreement that you would be there for each other and have fun.

This wasn't something everyone understood. You both were often teased by your friends about your relationship or lack thereof. There were always moral questions regarding certain scenarios you could find yourselves in such as one Mark brought up, "what if one of you fell in love with another person?" To which that answer would simply be that you would support it no matter what. Afterall, you weren't in a relationship and at the base of it all, you were friends.

"Okay but what if one of you fell in love with the other person?" Johnny asked during one of your weekly Friday night hangouts with the boys. You were seated on Ten's lap with one of his arms wrapped around your waist while you played with the contours of his fingers.

Ten shot a look at Johnny that you missed before you turned to him and you both answered, "that could never happen."

"Alright but what if? What if, hypothetically, Ten realizes he's in love with you? Would you want him to tell you?" Johnny prodded answers from you.

"Of course I'd want him to tell me. Our whole relationship is based on us communicating well." You answer.

"Oh so this is a relationship?" Jaehyun leans in, as did everyone else in the room.

"It's not like that kind of relationship," you sigh as Ten draws circles on your hip with his thumb.

"We're just friends who take care of each other really well." Ten defends.

"Yeah, you take care of each other extremely well. I wish I had friends like that." Jaehyun laughs as you throw a pillow at him.

You fold your arms across your chest and plaster on a pout as Ten quickly changes the subject to something you have no interest in. Eventually, you doze off, collapsing against Ten's shoulder as his voice lulls you deeper into sleep. He was much more talkative compared to you and always had a quick reply for anything that came at him, something you always admired.

The night drew to an end as the boys dissipated and retreated to their own dorms or rooms, leaving you and Ten cuddled up on the couch together. Your quiet snores pulled a faint smile across his lips as he took in your presence. He loved watching you sleep. He loved whenever your dreams would sneak an unconscious smile on your face and how you would occasionally twitch and nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

Johnny was coming closer and closer to revealing his secret. At any opportunity he was given, he would try and chip away at the subject, opposing Ten's constant pleading to stop. Johnny didn't understand why his friend couldn't just be upfront about his feelings, he was the type to always lay everything out so there were no surprises or secrets. To him, this was easier but to Ten, things were a lot more complicated. Would he ruin the best thing he's ever had if he told you how he felt? Why say anything when things were going perfectly well? But then again, the thought of you possibly being with other people terrified him, he wanted you to himself.

The silence of the room seemed to wake you up as the noise of friendly banter had ended for the night. "Where is everyone?" You rubbed your eyes and yawned.

"They all went to bed. It's just us. Do you want to sleep over tonight?" He asked you, almost insisting.

"I might as well." You smile sleepily. You were so adorable in that moment, Ten pulled you in for a kiss, followed by another and another. He pulled you into his lap to straddle him as he continued to deepen his kisses. "Ten, we're going to get caught." You gasp for air.

"Who cares?" He smirks into your lips. His hands snake up the front of your shirt to tease your nipples, causing you to let out a squeak while grinding down against him. "Are you okay, baby?" He smiled at you getting worked up from his touches.

"I'm… Fine." You breathed out.

"Good." He said as he stood up, picking you up with him. He wrapped your legs around him and started walking to his room. Though he was small, he was quite strong and capable of carrying you whatever he needed you to be. "We're going to make sure these guys know who you belong to tonight." He muttered into your ear.

---

"I don't like him." Ten shrugged after you introduced him to the new guy you're seeing.

"You never like anyone I date." You frown.

"That's because no one is good enough for you." He rubbed your thigh but you pulled away. "What's wrong?"

You couldn't put your feelings into words since you didn't even know what was wrong. "I just feel like I'm missing something, you know?" You quickly turn to him when the thought crosses your mind. Ten just shakes his head, unsure of how to respond. Instead, he pulls you into his lap to comfort you but for the first time, being with him so intimately didn't feel right. You stand up and pull your arms around yourself for comfort.

"Hey, hey." He stands up as well and cups your face in his hands. You try to pull away but you couldn't help but feel yourself melting into his touch. "C'mon, let me in that mind of yours." He leaned his forehead down to meet yours.

Suddenly, tears start falling down your cheeks. "Why is it that I can't keep a relationship with any guy? I feel like I'm always going to be alone." You cry.

"You're not alone. I'm here." He pulls you into a hug but you push him away, leaving him confused.

"No. Ten, no. I can't do this anymore."

"What's happening here? What are you saying?" Ten suddenly felt his chest tighten, a feeling he's been trying to avoid from the moment he fell for you. He didn't get an answer from you, you could only shake your head as you turned to leave, passing Johnny on the way out.

"Did you finally say it?" Johnny said when he saw Ten standing alone in the living room.

"No, dumbass." Ten stomped to his room.

---

It has been almost two weeks since you basically broke up with Ten. You missed him, he was your best friend but you had come to the realization that you needed more and what you had with him was keeping you from getting that. But even now, you still felt something was missing. Rather, an even bigger piece of you felt like it was missing.

"How are things with-" Jaehyun started but Johnny shushed him. "It's just… we haven't seen-" Johnny shushed him again but this time, Johnny threw a pillow at him to get his point across.

Ten glared at both of them. He was trying not to blame Johnny for what happened because it really was his own fault. He missed you but he was afraid to be the one to admit it and show up on your doorstep when you were the one that chose not to see him anymore.

They all sat in awkward silence as no one knew what to talk about with Ten in this mood. A knock broke the silence and they all stared at each other in panic to try and decide who should answer. Eventually, Johnny groaned and went to open the door as no one had moved for a minute.

"Oh, it's you uh hi." He opened the door to reveal you there.

"Hey Johnny, is Ten home?" You say with a weak smile and Johnny suddenly panics.

"Oh? Ten? Yes. Shit, yeah he's here. Ten!" He yelled for his friend.

Ten looked like he had seen a ghost when he saw you standing there. For the first time since you had met him, he didn't know what to say to you and it confused you for a moment. "Hey, can we talk?" You say quietly.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes! Let's uh… my room?" He stutters. You agree and as you walk through the apartment, you acknowledge his roommates with a weak smile as they also suddenly look like they've just seen a ghost. "So what did you want to talk about?" He says nervously. You take a seat in the edge of his bed and he suddenly feels the urge to kiss you but he has to fully restrain himself.

"I just missed my best friend." You shrug.

"I missed you too." He says, taking a seat next to you. He felt at peace in that moment but there was an elephant in the room that both of you needed to address. You both tried to speak at the same time but ended up in a burst of laughter, a sound you missed, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. "Hey, what's going on?" He notices your sudden change in mood and grabs your hand.

"I don't know. I wanted space from you because it didn't feel right anymore but that just made me feel even more lonely. But then I started thinking that maybe things weren't right with us because I thought-" you started speaking but you stopped when you realized you couldn't put your thoughts into proper words.

"It's okay, I get it." He drew circles on your hand like he always did to calm you down.

"I want us to go back to the way we used to be but not really, you know?" You say desperately.

"I know." He assures you. "We can just be normal friends." He smiles, trying to comfort you.

"That's not what I want either…" you look down, trying to avoid crying.

Ten is also confused as he's unsure of how to make things better for you. Returning to his usual instincts, he pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around you. Engulfing you in his presence and allowing you to feel small and vulnerable, you began to cry.

"I love you." He said into your temple.

"I love you too." You respond but he shakes his head and angles your head up to look into your eyes.

"No, baby. I love you," he emphasizes, "You are my best friend and so much more. Please let me be more for you." He says as tears form in his own eyes.

"I would love that." Your lips quiver as you throw your arms around him.

[linderu]

utakata hanabi. - ch 2/2

characters: khun, bam, rak, shibisu pairing: khunbam series: tower of god / kami no tou ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24567637/chapters/59427784#workskin

takes place season 3, right after bam beats the ranker and khun/hwa ryun spread propaganda through the tower. it’s really fluffy. while also dealing with questions of morality, priorities, the plot itself, etc. also shibisu is best wingman ever.

i want to take writing requests so feel free to send me an ask for khun centric or khunbam centric ideas!

s3 webtoon spoilers.

“How’s Bam holding up?” Shibisu’s voice rang over Khun’s pocket, echoing slightly within the large, empty bedroom he found himself in. Khun, who was lying on his back in the middle of a massive bed, stared holes into the ceiling as he contemplated their current situation.

“The same as usual. You know him, Isu.” He sighed audibly, feeling exasperated. “Taking on too much at once because he feels obligated to, and acting like everything’s fine.”

His plan had been successful. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he wasn’t sure yet.

As they spoke, rumors about a C-rank regular strong enough to take down a ranker were spreading like wildfire throughout the tower. Bam’s single fight in the testing center was what had ignited the flames, acting as a catalyst for the mass movement Khun knew was building. Soon enough, all of their ‘pawns’ would line up like dominoes, ready to fall when Bam gave the signal.

It was the work of his and Hwa Ryun’s scheming. The level of propaganda they built up around the great Jyu Viole Grace was enough to make even FUG elders stir.

He should be excited, playing a main role in designing such an event. Truthfully, all he felt was anxious-- like he was sending his best friend to his death. Not that he would show it around Bam.

“Yeah, I do. But I also know you, and I bet you’re doing the same thing, aren’t you?”

“...” Khun scowled at the ceiling, but didn’t bite back. He was too tired. It seemed like everyone had something to say about how he handled things when Bam was around lately. “What I’m doing doesn’t really take that much effort. Especially compared to what Bam has to face, soon. Leading a battle against Jahad’s army…”

“Well, Bam probably feels like that, too. Like what he’s doing isn’t enough compared to what he really wants to do. Y’know?”

Damn. Shibisu, as always, hit the nail on the head. It was infuriating, having his double standards being pointed out like this.

It wasn’t like he was wrong, though. Of course he understood how Bam felt. That’s why Khun would do everything in his power to support him-- so that when he ran into battle recklessly, he wouldn’t be going alone, or acting as some kind of sacrifice.

Khun had to prepare everything perfectly so that wouldn’t happen.

“Why did you call, Isu?” He asked, annoyance seeping into his tone. “I didn’t pick up so you could psychoanalyze me. There’s still things I need to finish before we set the date.”

“Oi, oi. I’m just looking out for my friends.”

“Well, that’s great and all, but if you have so much free time, you should spend it collecting souls. We need all the help we can get before showtime.”

“Yes, my prince.” Shibisu responded sarcastically. “I’ll get going in a minute. Don’t worry, we’ve already stored a lot. Look, I just think you two should find a way to destress before everything goes to shit. You gotta rest your minds as well as your bodies, you know? Overworking yourselves won’t make this plan succeed any better.”

“... Maybe you’re right…” he was pretty exhausted. Not to mention, ever since that other guide yelled at Bam so harshly, he seemed out of sorts. As in… he was way too invested in training with Evankhell, while also spending his downtime sulking on his own.

Khun felt powerless. Like he could only watch. He was terrible at finding the words to give pep talks, so his only piece of advice had been ‘ignore her and push onwards.’

“Even so. I don’t know what we could possibly do to ‘relax’ in a situation like this…”

“Why don’t you try ‘that’?”

“Huh?” Khun quirked a brow at his pocket questioningly, though he knew Shibisu couldn’t see his face anyway. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Be more specific, Isu.”

“Something mindless and nostalgic. Like sparklers.”

“Hmmm.” Was all Khun replied with, not wanting to give his thoughts away. It was actually a great idea when he considered it, a faint image of a younger, brightly smiling Bam with fireworks shimmering in his eyes flashing in his mind.

“Well, just consider it.” As Shibisu spoke, Khun palmed his face. He wanted to groan, but Shibisu already knew more than enough about how he felt, so instead he rolled onto his side to face his pocket and just frowned.

He wanted to see Bam smile like that again.

“Huh, what’s that, Hatsu? Okay, yeah, I’m coming!” Shibisu’s voice was muffled for a moment. “Hey, Khun. I gotta go. Just make sure you two get some rest, alright?”

“Yeah.” Khun acknowledged. “Thanks a lot for what you guys are doing. It’ll probably... determine whether or not Bam lives through this.”

“No problem. See ya!”

---

Khun knocked twice at the door. No immediate answer.

“Bam?” He called, opening the door anyway. Inside, he found Bam sitting by the edge of his bed, staring at the ground.

“Khun…” Bam finally glanced up to meet Khun’s gaze, wearing a solemn expression that tugged at his heartstrings.

Shibisu’s words preaching about avoiding mental exhaustion echoed in his head, and Khun let out a quiet sigh, stepping over to where Bam sat. Perching beside him, his hand reached into his coat pocket where the box of sparklers was nestled comfortably, but he didn’t quite pull it out yet, choosing to fidget with it instead as he contemplated what to do.

“... Bam,” he started, after a moment of heavy silence. “How’s training with Evankhell going?”

“Fine.” Bam replied, though Khun didn’t miss the way he clenched his fists. “I just wonder… if it will be enough.”

“You shouldn’t worry about things like that before they happen, Bam.” He wasn’t good at giving reassurance, but he couldn’t stand by while Bam worried himself to death. “Are you still thinking about what Soo-oh said?”

“Yeah. She was right. I… was selfish, trying to make people throw away their lives for me like that…”

“It’s not as if they didn’t have their own stake in the battle.” Khun gently reminded him. “They might not want to take this next fight with you, but that’s not a reflection of your person.”

“... I wonder how many people will die this time. If I gathered them… for my own battles… wouldn’t it be my fault?”

“The people who show up will be those who have an issue with Jahad already. They’ll be fighting for themselves. You’re only giving them a chance for revenge that they’ve always wanted to take.”

“What if no one comes?”

“That won’t happen.” Khun’s brows furrowed at the thought, knowing exactly what Bam would do if that were the case. He refused to think about it. “Hwa Ryun and I are tracking everything. Unrest has already started-- people are beginning to move. Probably, in a week’s time, the stage will be set…”

“...” Bam’s face fell, and Khun’s heart sank.

“... Bam,” Khun reached a hand up to gently grab Bam’s shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. As he thought, this was no time to simply pull out the sparklers and suggest to throw a party. He had to be strategic about how to get Bam to relax… probably, just framing it as a favor he could do for himself would be the best way. “Will you do something for me?”

“What do you need, Khun?” Bam lifted his head immediately, and though his expression still seemed sad, he looked determined to help.

Perfect.

“I need you to meet me somewhere tonight. It’s pretty important.” Khun gave Bam’s shoulder a quick, soothing rub, smiling at him encouragingly. “Can you do that for me, Bam? Do you have the time?”

“I do. What are we doing?” Bam inquired, staring at him quizzically. Khun, who fingered the box of sparklers hidden in his coat pocket, just hummed in response.

“A team activity.” He removed his hand from his coat, and stood up. “To make sure we’re on the same page. Does that sound good to you, Bam?”

“Yeah. That seems fine. If you think it’s necessary, Khun.”

“Great. Outside my room, eight sharp.” Khun winked playfully and turned towards the door, lifting a hand in farewell. He didn’t think too long about the hint of a smile he caught pulling at Bam’s lips before he turned his back to him, in fear he might stick around. “See you then-- get some rest, okay?”

“... You too, Khun. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Khun hid his grin as he departed.

---

“Black turtle! You’re on time!” Rak dabbed excitedly in greeting.

“Rak!” Bam glanced at Khun questioningly, who stood against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking. “Is anyone else joining us?”

“Nope! Just us three. Is that okay with you?”

“Well, I’m still not sure what we’re doing…”

“I see.” Khun flashed a small smile Bam’s way, unable to help his good mood. After spending nearly the whole day thinking about it, he realized how long it had been since they had a calm, content moment to simply exist. From the second he’d woken up, it felt like both time and series of events were passing far too quickly for his liking.

Sure, they accomplished a lot, but he had wasted two years in a coma. Khun wanted to actually spend time with Bam like he had in the past… especially with their situation escalating in such a scary way.

Who knew when the next goodbye would be their last.

“Do you have the box, blue turtle?”

“Iii~diot. Of course I do. Let’s get going, Bam.”

“Box?”

“You’ll see soon.”

---

Outdoors, the ‘sky’ had already darkened some time ago. Despite understanding it was fake, a synthetic creation of the tower, Khun hadn’t lived his life knowing any different. To him, it might as well be the real deal. For Bam, considering Rachel’s original goals, Khun wondered how the sky looked to him recently.

With a floating lighthouse to guide the path, they walked a little ways away from the building, settling near a hill. A cool, comforting breeze washed over them. Khun was glad he wore a jacket, wondering to himself if Bam was chilly without one.

After a moment of thinking about it, he peeled his coat away, but not before removing the box of sparklers.

“Don’t get sick.” Khun draped the coat over Bam’s shoulders with a small smile. Bam blinked at him.

“Won’t you get cold, though…?”

“I’ll be fine, Bam.”

“But your temperature is difficult to regulate sometimes, right? I don’t want you to fall ill because of me.”

“Oi, blue turtle! Are you gonna light the sticks, or are we going to just stand around in the dark?!”

“Don’t spoil it, you dumb crocodile. Geez… now I have to.” Guess there was no point in waiting any longer. Through the faint glow of his lighthouse, he smiled briefly at Bam in reassurance, pulling out the box soon after and removing a sparkler.

“Khun-- are those…?” Khun didn’t miss the way Bam’s eyes widened.

“Do you mind playing with me for a little while, Bam?” He handed a sparkler over to Rak first with a content smile, knowing he would hear complaints if he didn’t, and took out a lighter.

“But… what about the training…?” Bam gave him a look of concern as Khun handed him his own unlit sparkler.

“This is training. I’m calling it, ‘strengthening your mental fortitude.’”

Khun clicked the lighter, and a flame rose from the tip. Wordlessly, and with an excited grin, he lit the end of Rak’s sparkler, and it burst into a bright, golden show of glitter.

“Is this really okay?” Bam questioned softly, gazing at Rak’s sparkler. Khun carefully watched his expression as it transitioned from worry, to interest, and lastly, to fondness. He could feel the tension leave his shoulders at the sight of Bam lightening up, and he knew right then that this exercise was absolutely the right decision.

“You’re working yourself too hard, Bam.” Smiling his way, he activated his lighter once more, bringing the flame close to the firework in Bam’s hand. It lit up in a flash, coloring the space between them with a soft, yellow glow.

“You are too.” Bam looked over his sparkler at Khun, his brows furrowed as if he had remembered something. “You’ve been working nonstop since I fought that ranker… no, before that. From when you woke up from your coma. Right, Khun?”

“Well…” he tilted his head, expression slightly sheepish. “It was necessary.”

“You’re the last person who should be lecturing me about working too hard!” Bam was almost pouting at this point, and Khun bit back a laugh at the sight.

It was refreshing, to be scolded like this. He pondered over what had changed with Bam’s priorities in the time he’d been missing. Honestly, Khun was accustomed to watching over Bam, and not the other way around-- after all, for the longest time, Bam had his sights set on one person only and it hadn’t been him.

A moment of silence passed. As he looked to the sky once more, thinking about the stars Bam had once been seeking, a wave of nostalgia hit him, and all of a sudden, Khun felt like lighting his own sparkler. Not a minute later and there were three fireworks sputtering, illuminating the dark night surrounding them.

His eyes fell on Bam once more, feeling a strange sense of intimacy undoubtedly influenced by his memories of the past. While watching him, he couldn’t help but remember the Bam he knew from over a decade ago, when they had first met-- staring at his sparkler in mesmerization, simply happy to be alive, surrounded by new friends, and chasing after his goals.

“Hey, Bam…” Khun murmured, his voice soft.

“Hm?” Bam lifted his gaze, and their eyes locked. Khun paused, the cool breeze gently blowing at his hair, tickling against his cheeks. After spending a moment enthralled by the way sparkles darted in and out of Bam’s golden irises, illuminating them in a rich color that made Khun feel like he was home , he finally opened his mouth, and asked--

“Why do you still want to climb the tower?”

It was a loaded question, Khun knew. Although it sounded simple, when unpacked, it held implications about all sorts of things.

How did Bam feel about Rachel? Why did he want to continue climbing the tower if he decided to stop chasing her-- his initial ‘rule,’ his entire reason for forcing the door open in the first place as an irregular? Just what were his motivations, when the journey they currently faced, already challenging to begin with, was no longer simply an ordinary path up?

When every corner they turned further and further endangered their lives, as they pissed off FUG and Jahad alike?

When the people Bam loved were being stripped from him one by one by elite rankers who would stop at nothing to kill them all?

Wars were literally starting for the simple reason that Bam wanted to protect his mentor. It was baffling, yet incredibly understandable, how so many people-- weak and strong alike-- were captivated by Bam; influenced by him into action.

Khun knew he felt Bam’s natural attraction the strongest out of anyone.

“I…” Bam hesitated, staring at Khun with wide eyes. “I just… want the strength… to protect you.”

“Me?” Khun blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Bam…”

Bam’s eyes fell, and a bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. “I realized… when I lost both you and my mentor so quickly, that I was putting everyone I cared for at risk. Pretending to be selfless, running around saving anyone who needed help, while using my friends to chase after Rachel… I was really just being selfish. It wasn’t selflessness at all.”

“So then, Rachel-- …” Khun trailed off. When he had woken up from his coma, he had talked to Bam over the pocket about it briefly, so he kind of understood his thoughts-- Rachel was no longer his primary goal because she had tried to kill Khun.

Even so. It hadn’t clicked until now what that meant in terms of what Bam was putting everything on the line for. He hadn’t simply stopped once his ties to Rachel were cut. If anything, Bam had become more driven, more desperate.

“I want to go up the tower with you, Khun.” Bam smiled affectionately at him. “And everyone else, of course. I just want to be able to protect everyone who means something to me-- no matter what it takes.”

The last of Khun’s sparkler faded, leaving them with no other light but the purple glow of his lighthouse. He was acutely aware of Rak silently watching them, and he felt a sense of déjà vu-- but he also couldn’t bring himself to care.

Bam’s sights were set on him. The thought permeated his mind.

“Let’s go, Bam. To the top.” Khun said abruptly, the words spilling from his mouth. He found himself reaching an arm out longingly, his hand resting on Bam’s shoulder in a platonic gesture-- but feeling it wasn’t quite enough , he took a step in, and slid his palm up to cup his cheek.

Bam sighed quietly in response, tilting his head into the touch; almost welcoming it.

This was uncharted territory for them, but Khun didn’t care.

“I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.” Bam promised.

“I’ll follow you anywhere.” Khun murmured his reply, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. Through the dark, he couldn’t see Bam’s full expression too well, but he knew he wouldn’t be pushed away-- that they both wanted this.

How many years had he spent waiting, pining?

Their lips delicately brushed together, and Khun immediately craved more. It felt so right, and long overdue. Sturdy arms circled around his waist, fingers clinging to the shirt on Khun’s back, and to his surprise, it was Bam who leaned in, reconnecting their kiss.

He felt he could stay like this forever and be perfectly happy. But they had to get back inside.

Pulling away from the kiss, Khun’s thumb smoothed over Bam’s lips, which were slightly parted. They shared a look through the dark, communicating something silently, and then Khun stepped back completely, wearing a serene smile.

“Let’s go back inside, Bam.” He hoped the implications were clear. If they weren’t, he would make them clear once Rak was gone.

“Okay.”

“I’m so proud… of my turtles… as your leader…!” Khun deadpanned, turning around to meet a sniveling Rak. “It only took you ten years, blue turtle!”

“I’m going to kill you, you damn crocodile--!” He immediately moved to kick him, horrified. Bam didn’t need to hear he’d been waiting for that long, dammit! “What do you think you’re saying, huh?!”

“Khun--” he paused, feeling Bam tug on his hand. “Let’s go back. I want to keep talking.”

“... Consider yourself lucky. Your life’s been spared.”

---

“I heard the big event’s going down in a week. How are you feeling, Khun?”

“I think we’re ready.” Khun smirked in the devious way he often did when he schemed. “I’ve done all I can to build up the best army possible for Bam. Whatever happens from here, happens. At the very least, we’ll get out with our lives. At the most… we divide and conquer, squashing their ‘war of attrition’ strategy. They’ll underestimate us. We have to use that to our advantage.”

“We’ve definitely been monitoring the tower’s activity on our end. It seems promising. Good work, captain.” Shibisu said encouragingly. “... You sound a lot more energetic. Did something happen?”

“None of your business, Isu.” He retorted, checking the time. Bam would be done with training soon, he should wrap things up and get cleaned up.

“Ah! I know…” Shibisu’s tone became teasing over the pocket, and Khun glared in its direction. “I understand everything now! To be young and in love… oh, I’m so jealous~!”

“I’m hanging up. Bye.”

[dreamsafterhours]

college boyfriend!markhyuk au series: II (mark’s pathway)

a universe in which roommates!markhyuk meet each other's s/o in class

markhyuk are roommates, my/n and dy/n are roommates, mark and dy/n take classes together and so do donghyuk and my/n — how will their fates intertwine?

genre: fluff, some angst pairing: platonic!donghyuk+my/n, surprise visit from mark format: dotpoint AU universe: non idol, college best friend warning: a lil swearing (best get used to it)

masterlist

or click here to continue your friendship with eng lit!mark!

I ⇤ | II | ⇥ III

II: relationship consolidation.. it’s platonic i swear

the fellowship continues (donghyuk + my/n)

hello again

are we ready

ever-ready i’m going whether u r or not lol idc you’re COMING

aight so ;;, donghyuk,

this boi,,

to meet someone new who he sees as almost a personal challenge,, to befriend and get to That Point™ in the friendship where you can talk about anything and everything without judging each other

he doesn’t have many friends that he can do that with tbh,, , he does have a lot of friends and people he knows and has conversed with but not a lot of friends he can crack jokes with and know they don’t take it personally

lots of dark humour and sometimes suggestive ones and political jokes and all that shit ,, intellectual puns and suicidal jokes,,, the lot

the basics for gen z humour right

he just wants someone to talk to and explore different concepts and abstract meanings and philosophical questions and get new perspectives on things he’d never thought about before

but also be able to say “ah fuck me upside down” without it actually affecting the relationship bc you’re just that close

sometimes it’s hard to have that relationship with the predominantly straight boys he surrounds himself with a lot of the time

and he’s always wondered what it’d be like to have a female friend like that and unfortunately he hasn’t befriended anyone and gotten to that point yet that he can ask genuine questions for the female point of view on certain topics

so meeting you,, and finding out you’re going for the same faculty after your undergrad course ,,,. then you being genuinely comfortable with him and his jokes and openly willing to accept his humour

he’s like /exclamation point appears above his head/

will this be The One™

so he lowkey ,, unintentionally,, in the process of getting to know you

develops a smol crush on you

it’s unintentional but he can’t help the fact that he falls in love really quickly but is also capable of getting over people fairly quickly if they don’t reciprocate his feelings and seems to be okay with that

but who can blame him for liking you??

you’re really damn cute

and genuinely good company

when he hinted that you could get married and have children in the future,,

his thought process was that ahaha i’m kidding.. unless?

so yes he was flirting but like ,, experimental flirting

and over the next couple of weeks he continues flirting with you

random lines like

“hey you look familiar, have i taken a class with you before?” he literally said this on the second day of classes with you

you honestly thought he was being genuine and actually didn’t remember you so you were like wait what ??? you literally walked me to my next class yesterday../? how? do you forget that??

and then he pulls a

“really? i swear we had chemistry” hand stroking his invisible beard

and then laughing at your reaction when you deadpan

“it was biology, donghyuk”

and sometimes u keep having that thought that u had in the middle of ur first lecture together, how he’s probably like this with everyone and he can easily befriend anyone else he’s probably gonna end up being those people that you know vaguely

but then you realise he’s been waiting in the same spot outside the lecture theatre every morning and afternoon, leaning on the wall, and looking up occasionally

smiling when he finds you in the crowd, picking up his bag from the floor and making his way over to you to walk into the lecture together

and you decide hm? he sticks around, i’ll stick around

on a separate occasion in some study session he’s like

“are you my appendix because i have no idea how you work, but the feeling in my stomach makes me want to take you out”

and you’re like “wow looks like you went ahead in the course donghyuk we don’t have human anatomy until next year. but how’s tmr at 7”

“perfect i’ll pick you up wear something nice”

hold

and then he bURSTS OUT LAUGHING and HOLLERING and yelling about how that was a good one tho right

you’re both in this sort of grey area where neither of you know where this is going

the reason he’s been saying all these things is to see what you were comfortable with in conversation and trying to analyse from your reaction whether or not you were actually flirting back or not

he’s ranted to mark in his dorms about it a couple times ,,

and so have you with your roommate

you return to your dorm after a day of doing a lot of back and forth semi flirting with donghyuk and you collapse onto your bed

your roommate looks over from her desk like “u good bro”

"i’m confused”

“fair enough”

“seriously idk if this kid is actually flirting with me or whether he’s practising on me or what”

“is this the donghek boi”

“yeah donghyuk” aka your future s/o yEET

you sit up and look at her

“uk what he said to me today”

she turns in her chair to face you fully,, ready for the tea

so you tell her the pickup line he came up with that day & your response to it and then his reaction to that bc he always seems to go for it but then tap out afterwards when you actually respond

and now you’re thinking,, do you really like him as more than a friend ??

and its???

so ?confusing to you

if you can’t tell if you like him for sure then you probably don’t, romantically

but then what effect are your responses having on him

what he actually does like you and all those flirty comments are genuine??? and you’re /internal gASP moment/

what if you’re leading him on?? what if it’s always gonna be him initiating the flirting but you’re accepting it with insincerity?

you decide this goes entirely against your morals

and you tell this to your roommate and she goes hmm,,

if you don’t feel committed to the idea of that,, then you don’t have to feel obligated to keep it going,, be honest with him ,, draw lines if you have to .. yes leading people on is a bad thing and it’s gonna affect the friendship

but also maybe it really is just part of the humour and that’s the friendship dynamic he wants to build with you?

so you decide to sleep on it bc it’s 1am and significant choices should not be made when drowsy and you’ve lost a lot of sleep these past couple days anyway

not that you get good sleep that night anyways

meanwhile donghyuk is shrugging @ mark like

“idk bro do i like her?? or do i like the idea of having someone to say that to”

“and yes she returns the gestures but then also i don’t think she means it? do we just keep it at that and keep being friends like WHAT IF I CATCH FEELINGS”

and mark is just staring at him like dude idk don’t ask me

“you’re so bad at giving advice mark”

but you wake up the next morning and decide to have a serious conversation with him after class bc that day you have a free hour after your lecture

it’s all you can think about during the class so you’re kinda distracted plus the partial sleep deprivation is getting to you

and he notices so he’s like

“bro u alright?”

so you just think fuck it and go

“hey real talk tho”

“ya”

“maybe i’ve been overanalysing this so,, tell me if i am but”

“sure”

“do you ,,, actually mean all those pickup lines ,, like are they based off, , real feelings or is this just part of the friendship dynamic”

and you’re almost surprised when he gets serious with you

he’s always been so lighthearted and sarcastic about things

but when he listens to your side of things and how you’re worried about whether or not you’ve been leading him on or something

he lets you finish and just tells you his feelings as well

“i’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have that dynamic and i guess i tried it on you without being honest ,, half to see if you would flirt back and half to just joke around ,;; i’m sorry that you got confused but i guess this means you don’t have? romantic feelings?”

so you have to reply honestly

“not necessarily ,, it’s been fun to have these conversations and laugh at pickup lines but”

“nothing behind it right”

“..yeah”

and instead of putting a damper on the atmosphere

it’s actually

refreshing

it clears the air in a way you didn’t expect

“right? nah it’s fun what we have going”

and you agree

aside from the confusion behind the flirting it’s been really fun talking to him and getting to know him

half of him was a lil disappointed that it didn’t go the romantic path but then again he wasn’t sure he had romantic feelings anyway

so he settles for

The Best Friend™

and so the friendship turns into sibling-like teasing and petty arguing from that day onwards

legit you’ll catch him staring

“what” “wHat” “what u lookin at” “whAt U loOkIn At” “stop copying me” “sToP CoPYinG mE” /you slap his arm/ “oW”

whimpers a lil clutching his arm uwu babie

“you hit harder than the bass drop”

sending each other bio memes and yelling at each other to go commit lysis

“lysosomes can take you out because you’re TRASH”

“i would send a macrophage after you you PATHOGEN”

calling him a parasite when he asks u for notes that he missed in class but it happens vice versa anyways lmfao

then one morning lab class he forgets his pencil case in his dorm like he forgot his laptop on the first day

except this time you call him a forgetful dumbass

all while offering a pencil from your own pencil case

which he takes

so he calls his roommate who “has a noon class and is probs still sleeping lol” to ask him if he can bring it down for him bc he’s got more lab classes that day

so after the class you wait outside the building for his roommate to arrive

and when he does he gives you a rlly nice smile and says “ʰᶦ”

“oh hello”

“yes this is my adoptive younger sister and my/n this is my roommate the Elder”

“ah you’re overreacting” the roommate turns to you and u ,, gotta admit ,

he’s really cute ,,, “don’t listen to anything donghyuk says, all he does is lie”

“hEY i am a SINCERE MEMBER OF CIVILISATION”

the roommate points to donghyuk again and goes “see he’s even lying about being civil”

so you laugh and gang up on donghyuk like “oh i saw through him a long time ago”

“wow he even lied about how” /puts up air quotes/ “ugly you AREN’T”

“wHAT”

“HE SAID IT NOT ME”

donghyuk is flabbergasted at this point

“wHEN DID I SAY THAT MY/N WAS UGLY”

“WANNA TELL ME THAT YOURSELF MR LEE DONGHYUK HUH”

which results in a sulky hyuk and you two laughing at his reaction of being Wronged™

he regrets letting u two meet in that moment

oh but we don’t

“ok u did ur mission. u can go now”

“so mean :((”

but donghyuk’s roomie waves at you while turning to leave and you wave back ,,

trying to calm yourself bc you’re highkey feeling kinda hot ur cheeks r burning up

he said ?? donghyuk was lying when he said u were ugly?

damn

donghyuk’s pickup lines had never been direct compliments about you

but this one from his roommate wasn’t a pickup line it was just

a statement

and it made u feel a typa way

dw baby it’s gonna be a happy ending uwu

and u tell ur roomie that night abt it too

“bRO his rOOMMATE”

“what’s his NAME i gotta FANGIRL WITH YOU”

“.. idk”

“.. oh”

/short pause, lip smack/

“.. lib tomorrow?”

“.. ya sure”

the next day after classes you check your phone and see that she’s texted you asking if her friend and his friend from eng lit can come and join you guys in the lib

and, naturally, u don’t see why not

so u reply

“the more the merrier”

the more the merrier for us too sweetie hmm hmm

eeeeeeéeeeeeèeeeeee

mhm mhm mhm it’s finally getting somewhere

click here to continue your friendship with eng lit!mark!

I ⇤ | II | ⇥ III

[sirrriusblack]

#9 and 11 from Angst with #1 from sassy, please?

9) Get the hell out

11) I’m not losing you again

1) Bite me

I’m sorry this is really bad, um, I tried :)

* * *

tw for vague mentions of child abuse.

* * *

I didn’t bother saying anything to Remus when we got home. I turned my bike off and stormed inside, leaving him in the driveway. I slammed the door behind me. Remus was there in a moment, jogging to keep up. I walked into our bedroom

“Get the hell out,” I said, glaring daggers at Remus. I sat down on our bed and started untying my shoelaces. He glared right back and stayed where he was. I growled. “Get out, Remus!” I shouted. He shook his head.

“I already said I’m sorry, Padfoot! You can’t stay mad at me forever!” he reasoned, his arms flying around the air as he talked. I stood up from the bed and shoved past him.

“I can damn well try,” I muttered under my breath, walking to the kitchen and pulling a glass from the cupboard. I filled it with water. I knew I was being unreasonable. But I couldn’t get past what had happened, couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happened. Remus walked over to me and stuck his arm out. I glared at him again, but passed him the glass of water. He only took a sip.

“Sirius.” Remus’ hand came to meet my face and he forced me to look him in the eye. “I get it. You’re scared, and I did something stupid, and I’m sorry,” he said. But this is a war, Sirius you have to be prepared to—

“I’m not losing you again!” The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Remus backed up a step.

“Sirius, what do you—“ he cut himself off, like it had just dawned on him.

“Do you— are you talking about the prank?” he asked. I looked away from him.

Dumbledore had sent an owl and Remus was to go on a mission. That’s all Remus had said in explanation. Then he’d disappeared for a week straight. No letters, no messages, nothing. I’d been worried sick. And it wasn’t fair of me to think like that, but I kept telling myself that it would stay like that. Remus didn’t want to talk to me. He’d cut me off. He’d gone and put himself in danger, gone on a mission alone, just to have an excuse to get away from me.

“I...” I didn’t know what to say. Remus sat on the stool by the kitchen counter. “Those few months were the... they were the worst few months of my life, Remus,” I admitted. Remus’ face shifted—into anger.

“Worse than your parents abusing you? Are you saying I’m worse than them?” he asked. I flinched.

“What? No, I didn’t mean it like that. Remus, I—“ I didn’t finish. Remus had stood up and walked back to the bedroom. Slammed the door. I walked over. “Remus, let me in,” I said, my hand on the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, there was no lock on the door, but I wasn’t about to go in if he really didn’t want me there. He didn’t reply. I sat on the floor, my back against the door. “Remus. Ever since I met you, we’ve needed each other. All four of us need each other. We’re family, we’re dependant. But I’ve always needed you more. In a different way. I need you with everything I have. And then I fucked up. I fucked up so, so bad with that prank and you were so, so angry. Understandably.” I shifted so I was cross-legged on the hardwood floor, facing the poorly painted white door. “And suddenly, you didn’t need me anymore. You didn’t need me during the full moon, you didn’t need me for company on a lazy Sunday, you didn’t need me for random kisses or a hand to hold. But I needed you. I needed you so much, and yet all I could do was push you away. Soon enough, you started needing me again, or at least wanting me, but when you came looking for me, you couldn’t find me. Because I didn’t think of myself as worth needing,” I said. Fuck. “This is all coming out wrong and I’m making myself sound like the victim and making you sound like a fucking villain. I hope you know what I mean. I just...” I trailed off, trying to think of the right words.

“You just what?” Remus whispered from the other side of the door. I thought for a moment.

“Our love, Remus, at least on my side, is like a fire. And you’re the kindling. You are what keeps my fire going and without you, I just burn out.” This was all so fucked up. I ran a hand through my hair. “That’s probably unfair to say. That I rely on you. Because then you have some sort of moral obligation to stay with me. But that’s another thing. I’m so, so scared that you’ll go back to not needing me. Because if you don’t need me, what’s the point?” Remus didn’t respond. I was about to stand up and walk away when the door handle twisted and Remus pulled the door open. He was on the ground too, knees pulled up to his chest.

“The point, Sirius, is that I want you. It doesn’t matter whether I need you or not, because I want you,” he said. I looked him in the eyes. They were red, like he’d been rubbing at them. I scooted closer.

“I want you too,” I said. Remus nodded. “And you’re nothing like my family,” I promised. Remus linked his hand with mine.

“I’m sorry I didn’t leave you more information. Dumbledore said it was urgent and I assumed he’d fill you in,” Remus explained. “I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t ever leave you, Sirius. Not like that.” I nodded and laid down, resting my head in Remus’ lap. “That can’t be comfortable,” he laughed. I shrugged.

“It’s not too bad,” I said. Remus smiled.

“So let’s talk about just how dramatic you were before.” I groaned and planted my face into Remus’ leg to hide my burning cheeks. “Get the hell out, Remus!” he mocked me, making his voice deeper and broody.

“Bite me,” I snapped into his leg, which muffled the sound. When Remus didn’t reply I glanced up at him and found him looking down at me, a suggestive gleam in his eyes. I flicked him again and he laughed.

[barnes-dameron]

Poker Night

*not my gif*

Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: What started off as a friendly game of poker amongst friends turned into a bet between Poe and a new pilot in order to see who would be the one to ask out the reader. 

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Saw this gif and got inspired to write a little story on it.

With everything in the Resistance and the First Order constantly on their radar, it was difficult to find some down time. Poe especially was a strong believer of  quality time, to help boost morale was his excuse. With that in mind, he organized a poker game with the other pilots on his squad and Finn. It should be enough to bring spirits up a bit, and a way for him to get some extra money. 

Sitting around a crate in the hangar and being slightly buzzed from the stolen booze that Jessika snatched from the cantina, everybody in the Black Squadron and Finn finally felt ready to begin playing. Snap began to shuffle the cards. 

“What are we playing, Poe?” Snap said, hitting the cards against the edge of the crate. 

“Let’s play- hey Y/N!” Poe said, waving you over. 

You looked over at the huddled group of Resistance pilots surrounding a crate and a smiling Poe that was waving at you. You approached the group, smiling at the faces that were upturned towards you. You placed your hand on Finn’s shoulder, who was sitting across from Poe. 

“What’s going on here?” you asked curiously, looking down at the makeshift table where a stack of cards laid. “Gambling in the hangar? That’s not setting a good example, Commander.”

“It’s boosting morale,” Poe replied while pointing a finger at you playfully. “Wanna play? We can use one more player.” 

“I’m fine,” you said, giving a smile to Finn. “But Finn here is just as good as me. Take his money for me, bud.” 

“Will do,” Finn said, returning your smile. 

“Okay,” you sighed. “I’ve got to get to my shift at the med bay. You all have fun.”

You pat Finn shoulder, and looked over at Poe. He gave you a smile, and then blew a kiss to you. He’s been doing that for a while. Ever since his first visit to the med bay, Poe has been playfully flirting with you, causing you to feel both uncomfortable and a bit flustered. It was hard not to have feeling for the Resistance pilot, but you figured he flirted with every girl. So, you learned to brush it off. You shook your head at Poe, and began to make your way out of the hangar. 

Poe’s eyes followed your receding figure into the hall, not listening to the conversation around him. It took a couple of shoves and a punch in order to get him to return his attention to the game at hand. 

“By the Maker, Poe,” Snap said while handing out the cards. “As soon as that girl walks in, you’re common sense walks out.”

“Shut up,” Poe sighed, grabbing his cards in front of him. 

“Common on, Dameron,” Jessika teased. “Just admit you have feelings for Y/N.”

Poe shook his head, continuing to stare at his cards. 

“I don’t, it’s just purely platonic,” he replied. “Are we gonna play or what?”

So it went. After a couple of rounds of games, Poe gained two credits but lost five to Snap, seven to Jess, and twelve to Finn. He wasn’t bad at gambling, he was only playing bad that night because the thought of you kept replaying in his mind. He wasn’t able to fully concentrate. 

He kept thinking about how soft you hair would feel in between his fingers, the smoothness of your lips against his. He wanted to ask you out multiple times. In fact, he kept getting himself injured on purpose just to see you. He tried to flirt with you, but it was too late to realize that his attempts are easily overseen by his past faults; playfully flirting with others. If he could go back in time, he would definitely change that, but alas no such technology was available. 

“Dameron.” Poe looked away from the cards in his hand, and turned his attention to a newer pilot that joined his squad. He didn’t know if it was the booze or he just didn’t know, but Poe couldn’t seem to remember what the guy’s name was. “If it’s just ‘platonic’ between you and Y/N, would you mind if I ask her out?” 

“Why?” Poe said, a bit more harshly than what he intended. 

“She’s hot,” the pilot replied, shrugging his shoulders. “And I think we would get along.” 

“Jealous Poe?” Jess questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Poe said, returning his gaze to his cards in order to avoid the glances from the others. He shifted a bit in his seat. “She can date anyone she wants.”

“Even if it’s some low bag pilot,” Poe said underneath his breath. 

“What was that, Poe?” Snap asked. 

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “I just coughed.”

“I knew it,” the pilot said. “You want her to yourself, you bastard.”

Poe leaned forward on his seat. 

“Y/N can date whoever she wants,” Poe said defensively. “But she’ll probably rather date a Commander and leader of a squadron than some pilot who joined even when he had doubts about the Resistance.” 

“Damn,” Finn whispered softly, watching the interaction between Poe and the other pilot. 

“Fine,” the pilot said, leaning his forearms on the crate. “How about a little game? You and me. Whoever wins gets to ask Y/N out.” 

Everybody held their breathes, watching to see what Poe would say. Poe leaned his forearms on the crate, narrowing his eyes a bit. 

“You’re on.”

Snap quickly grabbed all the cards, reshuffled, and passed them out to Poe and the pilot. Everybody watched as Poe and the pilot thoughtfully made every move and decision like their fates hung in the balance. The pilot flipped over his cards. 

“Three Jedi guardians,” he said, sitting back with a smile. 

Poe looked down at his cards, then back at the pilot. He carefully flipped over his, revealing what he had. 

“Full temple,” Poe said, leaning back to give everybody a good view of his cards. 

“Holy shit,” Jess said, before taking a swig of her drink and handing over five credits to Snap. 

“What are you doing, Poe?” Finn asked. “Go to her!”

“Go, Poe!” 

“Hurry!” 

“You have your chance, now go!”

Poe looked around at the drunk group that was encouraging him. Poe got up from his seat, and began to run through the halls towards the med bay. This was his chance. If he didn’t do it now, then he probably couldn’t gain the courage to do it in the future. 

Poe dodged through the multiple nurses and doctors that were going in and out of rooms, desperately looking into every room in order to find you. Room after room, Poe zipped through the halls in effort to get a glimpse of you in his sight. Finally, he saw the color of someone’s hair that could only belong to you. He pushed past the people, letting out rushed apologies, as he made his way towards you. 

“Y/N,” he exclaimed. 

He was only meters away, and he needed to get your attention...which he did. You turned around to see his somewhat disheveled state, his chest raising and falling rapidly with his hair sticking up in different directions. How can a man continue to be handsome when he looked like he just rolled out of bed? You slowly approached Poe, holding a data pad close to your chest. Poe held his breath as he stared down into your gorgeous eyes as he pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Y/N,” Poe breathed out, before grabbing your face into his hands. 

Poe smashed his lips into yours, filling the kiss with all the passion and love that he kept bottled up for you. You were shocked to feel his lips on yours, so shocked that you didn’t respond immediately. Once you came to your senses, you dropped the data pad and threw your arms around Poe. You racked your hands through his dark curls, feeling the soft locks in between your fingers. Your lips moved in sync with one another, molding perfectly together. He gently swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, begging for an entrance to which you would have gladly obliged if someone hadn’t interrupted. 

“This is the med bay,” Leia interrupted, causing you and Poe to quickly pull apart. “Where people come if they are hurt or sick. Not to gawk at two people who are close to devouring each other.”

Poe hurriedly stuffed his hands in his pocket and turned his gaze towards the floor, smiling to himself. You felt heat rise through your chest all the way to your cheeks, embarrassment evident on your face. 

“Yes, General,” you whispered, bending down to get your data pad off the floor (Poe enjoying the view from behind). 

“Sorry, Leia,” Poe said, a grin still stretched across his face. “I can’t promise it won’t happen again.” 

“Keep it up, Dameron,” Leia replied, pointing a finger at him. “Or next time I’ll cut the brakes off your X-Wing.”

“Well said, General,” Poe said, holding his hands up in surrender as Leia disappeared into the halls. “So...”

“What was that?” you asked, holding the data pad to your chest once more. 

“Leia? Oh, I think Snap did something earlier today to make her-”

“Not that,” you laughed, staring at his smiling face, knowing what he did. “I mean the kiss.”

“Oh that,” Poe said, stepping closer to you. “Well, I kind of did things out of order there.”

“Really,” you teased, stepping closer so you were chest to chest. You would never act this way towards Poe, but you felt bold in the moment. “What was the first thing you wanted to do?” 

“To ask you out,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “So Y/N, would you go out with me?” 

“I’ll think about it,” you whispered. You lifted yourself up on your tiptoes, and pecked him on the lips. “Okay, I made up my mind.”

“And?”

“No.”

“What?” Poe asked, panic rising up in him. 

“Kidding,” you laughed softly, hitting him playfully on the arm. “Man, out of all the people, I thought you would’ve found that funny.” 

“Well, now I’m kind of laughing,” he said. “Tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” you said, before pulling him in another kiss. 

“What did I say, Dameron?” you heard Leia shout. 

Finn, Snap, and Jessika all stood at the end of the hallway, watching you and Poe. It was odd to watch, yes, but they had to come there to see if Poe did it. Finn stretched out his hands to the two Black Squadron pilots. 

“I told you he would do it,” Finn said. “I believe you two owe me twenty credits each.”

“Dammit,” Snap cursed, reaching into his pocket. 

“I thought he wouldn’t do it,” Jess said, while shaking her head. “I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right,” Finn said, rolling his eyes playfully. He knew she wouldn’t pay him.

He looked on his two best friends. Finn knew from the start that you and Poe had feelings for one another, and he also knew that neither of you wouldn’t admit your feelings to the other. His plan did work. Paying off the new pilot to pretend to make a move on you to get Poe jealous was the best investment that Finn has ever made. Seeing his two best friends happy, well, that was more than enough for Finn. Finn also knew that you and Poe were more than enough for each other. 

[agirlinhell]

just a casual reminder that:

THIS BLOG AND ITS MUSE CONTAIN PRETTY MUCH ALMOST EVERY MAJOR TRIGGER. THIS BLOG IN ITS ENTIRETY IS EXTREMELY TRIGGERING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

If you proceed to read this blog’s content after the multiple content warnings that I present in the blog’s rules page, you are responsible for whatever happens. I informed you of what is present. Do not try to claim I did not give you an adequate warning.

I write a lot of “horrible” shit. I literally write a sweet and innocent girl turned assassin and killer in her own right in the apocalypse for a muse - there’s very little I have an issue with writing in detail. This blog is riddled with mature content. With that said, I won’t be roleplaying with anyone under the age of sixteen. This should be obvious but just because I write disturbing content DOES NOT MEAN I SUPPORT IT.

On the topic of Clementine, she is a very morally grey character - she is neither good nor evil. She will not always be kind and sweet to your muse. She won’t always do the morally “right” thing. She will not hesitate to resort to murder, manipulation, blackmail and torture if it means getting what she wants.

Please don’t have your muse presume to know what Clementine is thinking, unless if your muse is some kind of telepath. Just because you know what going on OOCly, it doesn’t mean your character knows. Characters who seem to know more than they would is irritating and really annoying. Clementine is very charismatic, persuasive and secretive and as such, it is difficult to know exactly what she’s planning or thinking.

My Clementine has been - and still is - very lonely, and did not have friends or family for most of her life, as everyone else had either betrayed her or died, and even with her friends and accomplices, most of her friendships were merely for survival purposes. It’s fairly easy to forget that the timeline of Episodes 3 through 5 of Season One lasts only about four days. In the space of less than a week, Clementine has lost everyone she’s ever loved. She finds her parents infected, Lee is either dead or infected, and every single other person Clementine has come to rely on and know in the past three months — everyone, from Duck to Lily to Kenny to Ben and everyone in between — has died systematically over the course of a few days. Omid and Christa are the only ones who survived, but she had only met them during that four day timespan. It gets even worse as the seasons progress and this is no understatement in the slightest.

Clementine is age eighteen-nineteen and over in her default verse, as it is set post-The Final Season. With that said, most asks will be answered when Clementine is an adult, unless if the ask specifies for a specific verse.

For the love of all that is good and holy, DO NOT STEAL MY HEADCANONS FOR CLEMENTINE.

There are people I have a lot of threads with. It's inevitable that sometimes it'll appear as if I only reply to one person or the same 2-3 people simply because they're the only ones I have a lot of replies from. If you can't handle it looking like I've only responded to so called "faves" all day, when I owe you less than 5 things, don't follow me.

While Clementine in the majority of her verses is a human, there will be alternate universes where she is a vampire, werewolf, crossroad demon, shapeshifter/druid, deity, etc. and because of this, she will be very powerful and in some scenarios, even overpowered in the case of her deity verse. However, I do not powerplay/godmod/whatever else. It’s hard for some people to grasp, but for example, in my vampire or deity verses, Clementine does not give a shit about yours enough to waste her energy on them. For example: I have a verse where Clem is a goddess, and yes, she could know everything about your muse, but trust me -- she’s not going to act like it or even acknowledge what she could know. She doesn’t care to go through your muse's brain to figure out what they’re thinking. The only real metagaming you’ll see is deity!Clementine knowing your muse’s name when they haven’t given it out. I will IM the fuck out of you before I do some crazy shit with her anyway. I only ask you don’t act as if she is not a powerful goddess in said verse - because she is and she will destroy a muse that pisses her off.

Have a rules page and an about page for your character. I don’t care if your character is canon. I will not follow you if I can’t find an about section. Linking to the wikipedia/whatever page of your canon character does not count.

I don’t follow people who post ooc a lot. Blog updates, headcanons, activity notices, etc are not ooc per say but an excessive amount of them can be.

I have a really big issue with people who post super negative stuff all the time. I’d rather not have to deal with your problems on top of my own, thanks.

I absolutely will not follow you if I have to put in a ton of effort just to make it so I can actually read your information. I don't give a fuck about the "aesthetic" - just give me something to work with.

I do not follow every single blog one person has. It feels like you’re taking up a ton of my dash/followers, and it drives me insane.

I don’t follow people who are only here for shipping. If you're here just because you want to ship with Clementine, you came to the wrong place. My Clementine is not just a shipping facet.

If we do not interact within three months of becoming mutuals, unless if there’s a hiatus on your part, I will softblock/unfollow you. Interaction means a starter (or ask) and a reply. If I write you a starter and you never respond, it is not interacting.

The more we talk ooc, the easier it is for me to reply. It makes me more comfortable writing with you, and I often chat about our muses, making it a lot easier to come up with ideas and giving me a lot of muse and inspiration for our threads.

Memes can be awkward and harder for me to answer if we’ve never interacted before. I understand that a lot of people prefer memes as a means of getting things started, but I would really rather plot if you’re trying to get a thread of any substance going. I don’t mind starting with a meme, but I can almost guarantee you it’s not going to go very far if it’s our first thread.

Don’t pester me for replies. Feel free to remind me about a thread by liking my last reply to it or sending me an IM, but I will be really annoyed if you remind me more than once or twice within a month.

If I don’t like the post, I didn’t see it. Please tell me about it.

I’m a part time college student with shit mental health and confidence issues. I can be slow as hell some days and fast as fuck on others.

Once a thread is longer than two paragraphs (medium sized), it sometimes takes me 948728923660700 years to gain motivation for it. It will literally exhaust the hell out of me, but I am not against longer threads, in fact, I totally encourage them. It just takes me way longer to gather muse, time, and motivation to respond to them. If we have a longer thread together, I expect you to be patient as hell. Obviously, I will not mind waiting forever for your reply either.

I'm not going to bother with a million poorly slapped together ships for the sake of the muses involved "being cute" together. Most ships will need to be plotted, yes, even canon ships like Louis/Clementine and Violet/Clementine. My muse is not going to like yours without special circumstances and an extra push from me, especially since Clementine is demiromantic and demisexual.

I almost always answer asks in the form of a starter (questions are the common exception). Don't feel obligated to continue every ask I respond to.

Please, for the love of god, like a starter or ask response if I post it for you. I hate not knowing if you saw it or not. I will send it to you if you haven’t liked it within a few days of being active.

I have discord if for whatever reason mutuals want to speak to me outside of tumblr’s IM system - I also RP on discord - it's for mutuals only and you must let me know who you are beforehand.

[thedevianthunterrk800]

Response Time (Captain Allen x Reader)

Request: Could you do a gender neutral EMT!reader who's always patching up the swat team and just goes "If I didn't know any better I'd think you guys were trying to get hurt"

This honestly reminds me of that episode of 30 Rock when Jenna makes Kenneth eat strawberries to get an allergic reaction so that the cute EMT comes lol like big mood™️

i don’t actually know anything about being an EMT so pls excuse if i don’t portray that correctly ahhh

Tags: @connorfixinghistie @wiredhawkes 

Masterlist

The first time you’re dispatched to treat the Detroit Police SWAT unit, you admittedly prepare for the worst. After all, you’ve only ever had to deal with local emergencies so far, like car accidents, scuffles that’d gone south, and the occasional call to bring elderly to the hospital. While you’ve aided your fair share of officers and detectives, you’ve never once been in contact with the SWAT unit.

Until today, that is.

Now, you watched a lot of television growing up, and so you’re well aware what kind of situations the SWAT team normally responds to. You expect there to be bloodshed, explosions, fatal gunshot wounds; you know, the standard stuff you see in action movies.

That’s not the case, however.

The SWAT team comes out unharmed. Well, mostly unharmed. You treat a few of them for some cuts and grazes, but nothing that requires immediate transportation to the ER, surprisingly.

Not to mention, you notice that the guys don’t seem to be bothered by the whole ordeal. Whatever situation they dealt with must’ve been child’s play—or maybe they’re simply used to responding to all sorts of violence by now. Still, it’s unsettling to see them joking around as if they weren’t being shot at by armed hostiles only a few minutes ago, but you suppose all that means is that you aren’t cut out to join the SWAT team. 

There’s just one guy in particular who remains quiet the whole time you examine him, which is unnerving in a different way because he’s the most handsome of the lot. Hell, he’s the most handsome guy you’ve ever met, and you wish he’d talk more because it’s getting increasingly difficult not to gawk at his perfectly sculpted face while dressing the cut on his neck.

Still, it’s not his obligation to make small-talk with you.

Not that you don’t try.

“Any other injuries?” you ask once you finish up, smiling at the expressionless SWAT member. He doesn’t return your smile, simply getting to his feet.

“That’s it. Thanks,” he says, giving you a curt nod. You offer him a small wave as he walks off, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his retreating back.

.

You don’t expect to see him again as quickly as you do, but not even a week later you’re once again gazing into the unimpressed face of who you mentally refer to as “SWAT Guy”. Of course, you know that there are other members in the squad, but only one of them looks like there’s a piece of shit right under his nose all the fucking time.

The situation they just handled appears to have been more dangerous than the last one, considering this time a few of the guys actually did sustain gunshot wounds. They’re immediately sent to the ER, and you’re left to check the other officers.

SWAT Guy at first glance looks alright, but you notice that he winces when you ask him to take a seat. He’s not bleeding, to your relief, but there’s no doubt he’s in pain. You have him remove his gear when he admits that he’s suffered a pretty nasty fall, and while your only goal is to tend to his injuries, you still can’t help yourself from feeling slightly flushed when he removes his black hoodie and shirt so you can examine his bruises.

You really try not to stare at his scarred six-pack and tattooed biceps.

..

It’s truly unfair that the only time an extremely gorgeous man strips in front of you is when he needs you to clean and bandage his wounds, but you would honestly consider these frequent exchanges with SWAT Guy to be one of the most intimate relationships in your life right now.

At this point, you’ve gotten used to working with Michigan’s finest SWAT unit. Either Detroit truly is in shambles or the DPD just sends these guys out for every little thing because there’s no way it’s normal how often you’re called to deal with them.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you guys are trying to get hurt,” you tell SWAT Guy one day. Considering he’s barely started speaking more than three words to you at a time, you never thought you’d live to see him actually laugh at one of your jokes but he suddenly does and the first thing you think is that it’s beautiful and you’d love to hear more of it.

“Shouldn’t this be good for you?” SWAT Guy replies with a small smirk, and you subconsciously swallow at the sight. “This means you’ll always have a job.”

“That’s true,” you agree with a devilish grin of your own, handing him an icepack for his many bruises. “I get paid per bone that you break.”

“I haven’t broken any bones.”

“Well, that’s why I keep telling you ‘break a leg’ every time we’re done here, huh?”

SWAT Guy shakes his head, but you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

.

“I should really start handing out stamp cards,” you say jokingly as you apply antiseptic to the large cut on the SWAT captain’s forehead. You’ve already finished patching up the rest of the squad because the man always insists on being the last one checked out, regardless of the injuries he’s sustained. It’s pretty stupid, and on more than one occasion you’ve ignored his request, but still, you can’t help but admire his stubborn dedication.

In response to your teasing, Captain Allen—whose name you only discovered a few days ago—rolls his eyes, but he’s too slow to hide the smile that always seems to grace his lips during your brief exchanges. You grin and finish bandaging the wound, and you’re too focused on the task at hand to notice that Allen’s eyes never leave your face.

“All better!” you chirp, patting the freshly-dressed wound lightly. 

“That was quick.”

“Thanks to you guys, I’ve gotten really good at dressing cuts. I can do it with my eyes closed.”

Allen fake-scowls and you’re furious how someone can look so effortlessly attractive. “You better fucking not.”

“What, don’t you trust me? After everything we’ve been through?” you gasp, holding a hand over your heart, which hammering in your chest at a thousand beats per minute right now. You can’t help it; not with Captain Allen sitting in front of you looking so calm and edible. He’s unbelievably charismatic and you’re a little annoyed that it took him so long to open up because he’s actually quite hilarious and you can’t get enough of him.

His job worries the shit out of you and of course you’d never wish for him to have to be sent out just so you can see him, but you definitely get a thrill every time you’re told to aid the SWAT team.

At your questions, Allen raises an eyebrow, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen a man do. “What makes you think I don’t trust you?”

“I can see the doubt in your eyes, Captain,” you sniff dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from your eye. Allen chuckles at your antics once again before a more serious expression crosses his face.

You take note of this and frown. “What’s wrong?”

He suddenly hops to his feet, eyes wandering over to the SWAT vans where the rest of his team is mulling about.

His answer is unexpectedly sharp. “Nothing. Thanks again for your help.”

So much for trust, you think disappointedly as he stalks off.

..

Seeing Captain Allen evokes a combination of giddiness and fear in you that’s morally questionable for someone in your profession but regardless, you can’t help but look forward to treating him. Sometimes you find yourself feeling disappointed when you’re sent on a regular call, which is pretty fucked up because you’re definitely not supposed to have preferences as an EMT, but it’s gotten really hard to control yourself around a certain SWAT member.

Besides being unforgivingly handsome, he’s an exceptional leader and more level-headed than you can ever hope to be. He’s stoic and fearless to a fault, sure, but then he smiles and it knocks the wind out of you.

Uhm...you definitely don’t have a crush on him, though. That would be entirely unprofessional.

No, no. You just admire the man.

Really.

“Yesterday a kid called us because he didn’t want to go to school,” you tell Allen, who hasn’t sustained any injuries but decided to come talk to you anyway. You try not to read into that but you’ll be lying if you say you’re not extremely giddy right now. “We spent like, thirty minutes trying to figure out whether or not we actually had to take him anywhere.”

Captain Allen snorts, crossing his arms as he leans against the ambulance doors next to you. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. His mom eventually figured it out and I’m pretty sure he’s dead by now.”

“You should be fired for leaving someone to die then.”

“But then who’ll be there to patch up the local SWAT team?” you ask playfully, glancing up at the captain with a mischievous glint in your eye. The man is obviously trying not to smile but he almost gives in when he sees you waggling your eyebrows at him.

“I’m sure we’ll find a replacement.”

“Yeah, right. Who else is willing to come out every other day just to take care of your asses?”

Allen is full-on grinning now. You suddenly feel the urge to wipe it off his face with your lips. “Are you getting tired of us?”

Never, you think right away, but fuck if you’ll actually admit it. “Maybe a little. You take up all my free time, you know.”

“I apologize you have to do your job,” Captain Allen replies sarcastically and you laugh at that.

“I don’t mind if it’s you,” you reply without really thinking, and your eyes widen when you realize what you’ve said. Allen looks a little surprised but it’s nothing compared to how horrified you are right now by your own careless words. You chuckle nervously, pushing yourself upright and taking a few steps away from the captain. “Uh, because I wouldn’t want the SWAT team succumbing to their injuries or anything. Yeah. Imagine how fucked we’d be without you guys around, you know? Anyway, I have to go now. People be dying.”

It takes Captain Allen a good few seconds to process the complete bullshit that’s just spewed from your lips before he shrugs and steps away from the ambulance. He follows you quietly as you trudge over to the driver’s side of the vehicle, and you’re too busy mentally kicking yourself to notice him until he opens the door for you.

You blink. “Oh. Uhm, thank you.”

Allen nods distractedly. He waits for you to climb inside the cab and gently shuts your door. Starting the engine, you offer him a brief, sheepish smile. 

Before you can drive away, he suddenly taps on your window and you jump.

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you lower the window, hands shaking a little in anticipation—for what, you don’t exactly know. Still, you did sort of accidentally admit to Allen that you’re interested in him, so there’s no way he’s stopping you just to say bye, right? Maybe he wants you to clarify? Does it mean he actually feels the same—?

“Hey, I think you’re forgetting someone,” Allen’s voice cuts into your thoughts, and when you only continue to gape at him, he simply points to the distance where the rest of his team is, along with…

Fuck.

You almost left your partner.

“I was just warming the car,” you spit back as Allen shamelessly laughs at your mortified expression. You flush and sink backwards into your seat, covering your warm face with your hands in an attempt to block the world out.

You’ve never felt so fucking embarrassed in your life, and the fact that Captain Allen is the one to witness everything makes you want to crawl into a hole and fucking die.

.

Your stomach drops when you hop out of the ambulance and see at least six different police cruisers and two SWAT vans haphazardly parked outside a decrepit warehouse. There’s already another ambulance on scene and you mentally curse the Detroit traffic for slowing you down.

“I heard they’ve already evacuated half the team,” you hear your partner say from beside you, and for a second your world halts as you imagine a certain grumpy someone lying cold and lifeless somewhere in that warehouse. The thought shakes you to the core and you’re momentarily floored by how terrified you are for someone you barely know.

“Do you know who’s still in there?” you ask shakily, your ears ringing as you stare at the entrance of the warehouse for any sign of movement—any indication that SWAT Guy is alive and well.

“I know as much as you.”

The sound of several gunshots in the distance silences your reply and for a split second, everything stills. The world only gets much louder and livelier when you notice that SWAT members are now entering the premises.

“Why are they going in?” you ask nobody in particular, and as much as you want to run into the warehouse to see for yourself, you know better than to be that careless. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your partner shrug.

Truthfully, you don’t realize how invested you are in Captain Allen until you finally see a group of men walking out of the warehouse doors. You suddenly find yourself charging into the sea of commotion, weaving between officers to get close enough to the SWAT team because you have to know—

And there he is.

He looks agitated, if anything, running a hand through his slicked-back hair as he barks orders over his earpiece. You’re rooted to the spot, staring at him, transfixed, as though you’ve never seen him before, and you barely notice that he’s caught sight of you and is now headed in your direction.

Captain Allen begins to say a quick greeting when he reaches you, but he doesn’t even get a word in before you’re grabbing him by the front of his gear and tugging him down for a reckless, impulsive kiss.

He makes a noise of surprise and you feel him grip your shoulders, but instead of pushing you away like you expect, his hands only slip downwards to your waist and he pulls you so close you can feel every bump on the bulky vest that always seems to be attached to him. You sigh into his lips and he smiles at your contentment.

When you finally part, Captain Allen smirks at you. “Is that what I get for filling my stamp card?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, silencing his laughter with yet another kiss, hopefully just one of many more to come.

[wumpusandzandii]

Moral Authority: Chapter Two

Human!AU TMNT Storyline for Leo x Kim

Chapter Two

Early evening found the Hamato family comfortably scattered throughout the lair, the hour late enough to be past dojo hours and dinner, but still prior to any evening patrols. Many nights found them elsewhere, other locations, other obligations; but that night it was a house full. In a small nook he had created near his lab space, Donnie was comfortably settled with his head in Lily’s lap, her propped up on pillows and his long legs stretched up and resting against the wall as they both read books. Mikey had his headset on and was playing a videogame, laughing and talking from time to time, the one sided conversation holding little interest to anyone else in the space. Leo was off doing his pre-patrol meditations, as was his standard ritual. Raph was sat diagonally on one end of the sofa, one arm slung over the back of the couch with Stacey stretched out on the rest of the couch with her back against him comfortably. Smiling, she kissed the back of his hand as she looked at the scene in front of them.

On the floor, Splinter sat on one of his meditation pillows, stacking blocks with his granddaughter. He would stack blocks up slowly, encouraging her to help as she giggled, waiting for the right moment to crash the small tower over. He would gasp in overdramatic alarm, hand on his chest and she would erupt in belly laughter, face turning pink as she laughed. He couldn’t help the grin that followed, his crow’s feet stretching to his graying temples.

“Sera, what are you doing?” he asked as she watched him, still laughing. “You made it fall down, what are we supposed to do now?”

“Fix! Fix!” she proclaimed, picking up a block and putting it back atop another.

“Fix it, yes,” he answered, his smile never wavering as he resumed stacking the blocks. “Such a clever little girl, aren’t you?”

“It’s a normal milestone, dad,” Donnie said absentmindedly from the nook, not looking up from his novel as he spoke. Lily made a scoffing sound and swatted at his shoulder playfully, shaking her head as he turned his head up to look at her. “What?”

“She’s the most clever Hamato girl yet,” Splinter proclaimed, scooping her up above his head before she could crash their new tower. “No offense to your mother of course, but a grandfather can’t help but be partial.”

“None taken,” Stacey replied, giving the arm Raph had around her a squeeze, and feeling comforted by the squeeze he gave her in response. “I have a feeling she’s going to be a handful.”

“Ah, but who would we blame for that, hmmm?” Splinter asked rhetorically, lowering the one year old to nuzzle noses with her as she reached out and patted at his tied back hair.

“Raph,” came the chorus of answers around him, even as far away as the meditation area, followed by laughter.

Chuckling softly at Stacey’s wry comment about their daughter being a handful, Raphael could have easily replied with ‘like father like daughter’ or ‘it’s part of her wonderful charm’ but as usual he felt ganged up on. His soft smile quickly dropped and his brow knitted together with a snarl as he turned to glare at each of his visible brothers. “Hey! Ya ain’t meant to all agree!” he huffed, slumping back into his corner of the sofa only making both of his girls giggle at his pouting.

“Not that it’s a bad thing, of course,” Stacey then hummed after controlling her laughter, turning to place a hand on his broad chest and grace his cheek with a light kiss.

Upon hearing her father’s voice, Sera wiggled and clapped her tiny hands in his direction. Her smile only widening when his attitude faded away, his scarred lips turning into a wide grin when her eyes met his. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with takin’ after daddy now is there, princess?” Once released from her grandfathers hold, she was quickly and happily scooped up into Raph’s arms, her laughter infectious once she was being gently tickled. Blowing a raspberry against her soft belly, he had quickly grown used to his mess of dreadlocks being tugged on by her. His only worry was her getting tangled, but half the time she brought it on herself in a ploy to have more attention from him, not that he ever minded.

Now distracted from her reading, Lily closed her book and set it aside, sighing softly while watching the tender scene. Still lost in his book, Donnie continued his reading once the laughter had died down, only humming softly once he felt her fingers slowly brush through his mop of hair. She’d never thought about children, maybe once or twice before she started her courses in veterinary care, but work had taken the soul focus of her mind until recently. She’d never admit it but after Raph and Stacey brought their daughter home, those maternal thoughts had bubbled to the surface again. Science taught her that it was normal for her to feel this way, but that didn’t stop her from shunning her own mind. Maybe one day, but how many? Maybe one, or two?

“You alright there, Lu?” Donnie asked quietly, brushing a hand against her arm.

Her skin flushed almost as red as her hair, blinking herself out of her thoughts and down to the bright silvery eyes below her. “Oh! Yes! I’m okay, my apologies… my mind wandered from my book.” Smiling softly, she toyed with his hair, ignoring the raised brow she was getting for being so pink in the cheek.

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

Sitting up, careful not to catch his head on the low ceiling of the nook, Donatello shifted himself to look at her properly. “If you’re getting warm you can say…” he added a little awkwardly, reaching up to delicately touch her cheek.

“You know I would do, but I’m very much content. However, let me get you another coffee. I’d like a chai tea right about now.”

Albeit reluctantly, she slid past him after neatly closing his book and adding it to the pile they kept on a shelf, only to have him tail her like a lost lamb. “No, you made me one last time, it’s my turn,” he protested, taking one long stride to get past her with a slightly smug grin.

“But I thought I was your lab assistant, isn’t that my job, sir?” Dancing past him with a coy smile, she peered up at him from under her fringe and gracefully took his mug off of his desk before he even attempted to. Feeling the heat in his cheeks, his eyes watched hers as she shephered him to his desk, backing him up until he nearly tripped and fell into his chair. “It’s my pleasure to.” She was like a magical little pixie, always using her sweetness and smiles to get her way, but more often than not, he did so willingly. Bending at the hip, tucking a stray strand of her hair from her eyes, she softly kissed his nose before disappearing to the kitchen.

Watching her leave until she was out of view, Donnie let out a breathy sigh. Adjusting his glasses, he then ran a hand through his hair, realising the state she had left it in from playing with it. Clearing his throat, he swiveled around in his chair to properly face his desk and its many monitors. Nudging the mouse, a few activated from their screensavers, opening up to a page of many different camera feeds. Flicking through each section quickly, everything seemed normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious or curious. “Looks like patrol is going to be quiet tonight…” he muttered to himself, subconsciously adjusting his glasses again. He checked and double checked all the usual spots for activity before he was greeted by a hot mug of coffee being placed in front of him.

Humming gratefully, he leaned into the kiss being placed on his cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Lifting the mug to his lips carefully, before he had chance to look up at Lily, his eyes caught something on one of the smaller screens. Squinting, he placed the mug down again, punching in a few keys to enlarge the camera feed to his main monitor.

“Something wrong?” Lily murmured close to his ear, gently squeezing his shoulders, not wanting to alert anyone if it wasn’t anything important.

“Possibly. Looks shady already…” he responded quietly, his eyes fixated and switching quickly between different camera angles and figures flashing up. “Maybe patrol will be a little exciting after all.”

Slowly rising from his meditations, rolling his body up in a smooth motion, Leo breathed deeply, trying to release the last tension out of his shoulders. It lingered, however, and his lips pressed in a line of disappointment. Meditation was something he had always had an aptitude for, and it ruffled his feathers that even something as simple as that was failing to bring him back to center. Stepping barefoot to the open doorway into the living space, he dropped a shoulder against the frame. The scene in front of him was bittersweet, causing lines in his forehead to match the grim line of his lips.

Leonardo couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t had purpose driving him. He had always wanted to perform well, finding satisfaction in being the model son, doing his best to give his brothers a worthy example to follow. In retrospect, that might’ve had better effect on Raph if he’d been the opposite, as he seemed forever determined to strike out separately from him. Not that it had served him poorly, he ruminated, looking at the small family he had made for himself. Raph didn’t need an example, he had just needed the space to be himself, find his own. Doubt etched deeply into the back of his mind, wondering if he had been wrong all those years, pushing him the way he had.

Mikey was playing videogames, talking to someone as he did so, quietly. Mikey talking quietly was only one of two things, conspiratorial or something he considered private; ‘his own’. Likely it had to do with the pink haired girl that had come round with him a few times in recent history. There hadn’t been any formal introductions yet, but something told him that was only a matter of time. He’d had girlfriends throughout high school, but nothing serious, more of moths to a flame. If he was being careful, it meant that he viewed this girl differently.

Splinter, his father, had such a look of pure joy on his face, one that erased the hard lines of pain from the years and replaced them with creases of joy. The introduction of his granddaughter had brought forth a side to him that was some bit different than they were used to. Once the small girl graced his arms with her presence, gone was the strict sensei they had grown up with, replaced with a man touched by years but a soul that was youthful once again. It was beautiful, honestly, but somehow just beyond his own grasp.

With a heavy sigh, he watched Lily exit the kitchen with two steaming mugs, moving in close to Donatello. From his station in front of the computer screens and the late hour of the day, he was certain his brother was scouting through camera feeds to determine if there was anything that deserved their attention directly that night, rather than simply running a standard patrol. He found himself hoping for that direction, feeling lost and needing that purpose. Smoothing his hands over his short ponytail, he unexpectedly found understanding in Raph, and his need for altercations that seemed to have tapered off to a significant degree. Had it been a lack of purpose all those years? Purpose that Leo had been given in spades, the dutiful son turned into leader?

Both Donnie and Lily stooped together at the same time, focusing on the same monitor that was blocked from view by their bodies. Seizing the opportunity to relieve himself of the grief of questioning his life choices, Leo walked over to the computer station, stepping wide to the opposite side of Donnie than Lily, so as not to startle them with his presence. Unlike his brothers, he tried remain aware of his ninja-silent movements, preferring not to unsettle the people they chose to bring into their lives.

“Something interesting come up on the feed?” he asked, attempting to view the same monitor without crowding space or seeming overbearing. He was well aware of the perception that he was overbearing, and honestly did his best to remain neutral while maintaining some kind of authority over the small group. It was a delicate balance and not for the faint of heart, as it was rarely appreciated.

“Mmm, down on the pier we’ve been keeping eyes on,” Donnie answered without looking up, hunching closer to the monitor before dedicating four monitors to the activity. One was live feed, the other four after some typing on his behalf, began rotating through short recorded clips. “The activity is all in the last 24 hours, but there’s been a significant increase in the last two hours. Cars, high end or desirable models go in, but none come out.”

“It is a pier warehouse,” Leo stated, well aware that Donatello was probably already working through the square footage of a space that size, and whether that many vehicles could fit inside. “Any chance we’ve just got a collector?”

“Down on the piers? Not a chance,” his brother scoffed, shaking his head. “The moisture off the water down there wreaks havoc on the car bodies, suspension and engines. No, they’d be using a far more advanced storage space for those cars to preserve them, keep them from oxidising. Besides, by the tally of vehicles, put up against their size specifications and the size of that small warehouse space-”

“We’ve got a chop shop?” Leo finished, the first real smile of the evening lifting one side of his mouth into a wry grin. Punching a fist into the palm of his other hand, he pivoted and started to jog off towards the gear room. “Everyone gear up! Looks like we need all hands on deck for tonight’s mission.”

Unlike in the past where the atmosphere would shift and pulse with energy, bodies springing to action as if they needed to be ready yesterday, no one really moved. Heads turned toward the sudden loud order over the silence, but not a whole lot of ‘gearing up’ happened. Raphael had barely registered anything had been said outside of the bubble he had with just him and his daughter. He still was happily captivated by her smile and laugh, now having her laid in his lap as he tickled her gently, repeating the same funny snarl that had her erupt with laughter every time.

It even took Donnie a moment to peel away from his desk, but that wasn’t unusual for him, especially with Lily so joined at the hip. Making his final checks, then double checking them, he managed to pull himself free of his desk chair and turned to find his own gear. Luckily, his ‘assistant’ had already handed him his digital armband, holding it in her own palms with a bright smile. Around her neck were his headphones with the extra cables he needed for the rest of his equipment. “If I wasn’t heading out I’d say keep them on…” he murmured, leaning in to softly catch her lips as she softly hummed, keeping still as he removed them carefully.

As much as she didn’t want to bring an end to the beautiful scene in front of her, Stacey sensed there was an urgency in Leonardo now, given how quickly and eagerly he was to gather himself together. “Raph… babe, come on,” she softly giggled, unable to keep her tone even with how Sera patted at her father’s cheeks.

“Yeah, I heard…” he replied, his eyes not leaving Sera’s while he continued to grin and make playful grizzly faces at her to which she tried to mimic. Moving in close, making her own disgruntled face at Sera which only made her laugh more, Stacey smoothly stole her from Raph’s lap.

“Come on, all hands on deck.”

Grumbling with a sincere scowl, he sat on the edge of his seat on the couch, running a hand through his dreadlocks to tame them back out of his face for a few seconds. “Ugh, really?”

“Yes. Really,” a voice from behind him clarified.

“Ain’t three enough?” he protested, sulking more like Mikey than his usual prickly self.

“Don’t worry, me and lil’ monster will be here waiting when you return.” Nuzzling against Sera as she gently bumped her head against her shoulder tiredly, Stacey smiled up at him with an expectant eyebrow lift that he could never refuse. It was the look he got before she put her foot down. The look when he knew he couldn’t get out of it and would only suffer more if he continued.

“Fine…” Heaving himself up, he ignored the low chuckle from his father as even Mikey was ready before him for once. Brushing past his wife, he muttered about being picked on as usual as he tamed his tendrils back loosely in a low tail, only getting a roll of her eyes and shake of her head in response. Tugging the straps of his arm guards tight, fastening the belts and buckle over his shoulders and waist, he cracked his neck before fixing his faded red bandana. Inhaling deep, he ran a finger along the wooden frame in the brick wall, hesitating before wielding his sai from their place. Spinning both around in each hand, he let out a satisfied growl before slotting them down into the belts on his waist. Switching to a different frame of mind, he then felt he wanted to go. He had something to protect after all.

Sauntering out to group with the others, he bumped a fist against Mikey’s without looking to greet his grin in return. “So, leader, lead the way,” he sneered, his lips twitching into a smirk as his eyes fell and caught Stacey’s, flashing her a wink while he squared his shoulders.

***

Parked not too far from the docks, along a road that linked the warehouses together in neat rows, Kimay’a sat silently in her car. Dropping her head back against the rest, she let out a slow and controlled sigh. She had been patrolling most of the night but had entirely forgotten why she had even offered. Maybe it was because a chest wrenching feeling had started to make her feel sick, feeling boxed in and crowded by the busy office of the station. It was nice to get out of there, as she rarely did, even if it was just driving in circles for a few hours. More often than not, she found herself with piles of paperwork, because she knew she was the only one in the office who didn’t grimace when faced with it. That and she didn’t cut corners to get it done.

Nothing had come in on the radio. Just mundane chatter, updates on other patrols or simple check-ins with her other officers. It was a quiet night. Even if there were shady after hours things going on, all she had to do was slowly drive by and they’d disperse into the night again. Taking a short break, she had pulled over to breathe for a moment. Others did so why couldn’t she? Tilting her head, the light of the docklands dancing across the calm waters catching her eye she watched it contently. It was soothing. Even if it was mildly distorted through the wire mesh fence, and shipment containers, but the small window was enough for now.

***

The four men moved silently through the harbor district, all joking, teasing and getting the messing around out of their systems on their way out, from the distanced safety of the rooftops. Well, Leo’s brothers had gotten it out of their systems on the way. He had silently tolerated it with only brief commands for silence and focus. Singularly minded, he was lost entirely in his own mind, thinking of the docks and the chop shop. There was no time or place for that nonsense, not on a mission. The irritation bound the muscles in his neck and shoulders, and he had tried to breathe evenly and relax them as the moved along. It piled on top of the irritation he had felt back at home, but he shoved those thoughts far away into the depths of his mind, he could deal with them later.

Right now was his time, he was in charge and they had a purpose. A purpose that was built on the foundation of excited uncertainty and almost ritualistic repetition. They had been on numerous missions over the years, and the adrenaline rush as they headed into one never waned. Even when they had a decent amount of information, there was always a decent amount of unknown. The basics were the same, get in quietly, take the criminals down as quickly and effortlessly as possible, restrain them and contact authorities.

That thought actually managed to derail his focus momentarily. Bright gold eyes behind the fringe of dark hair, pressed under a uniform hat. He gave his head an abrupt shake, glancing back at his brothers as if worried they could read his thoughts. No admission of guilt had escaped him after his last meeting with her, not even to his father. After granting her request of his name, he had a similar adrenaline rush as he felt at that moment, the rush of heading into the unknown. Even meditating on it, he couldn’t understand why he would be so reckless as to tell her, but at the same time, he didn’t regret it. Part of him hoped she would be on the responding team that night, just so he could see if he felt any guilt upon seeing her again or not. But if she was, it was likely at least one of his brothers would stick around until the police around, after a bust of that size, and if they found out… he’d never hear the end of it. His reputation and hold as leader would be put to mocking, even more than they already did.

Shaking it off, he redirected his focus on the mission with dedicated accuracy. He could not change what would be, only how he reacted to it. Above all else, he’d at least have the opportunity to unsheath his swords and release some of his pent up frustration. He would never admit it to Raph, but his brother was right. Sometimes you just needed to knock some skulls together.

Gesturing for them to slow a bit as they reached the shipping containers, he was content that he couldn’t hear the ringing of metal beneath any of their feet, not even the continually clumsy Michelangelo. He began to have a good feeling about the bust, like it was just what they all needed to set everything right and for it to feel normal again, the way it was. If he had taken the chance to reflect on that thought more deeply, he would likely have discovered that it was a projection of his own thoughts and feelings, but he allowed himself to simply be content with the thought as they moved in on the hangar.

Finding an obscured corner amongst the shipping containers once up close, they huddled around Donnie as he showed them a map of the area outside the building, anyone on the outside outlined in red. They must have grown into a sense of complacency, there only being one man watching the front door and two off the main hangar door, smoking with assault rifles strapped to their backs. There was a rear entrance, blocked off to traffic by containers, but absolutely not blocked off to ninjas. Coming up with a quick plan, he had Donnie go to the rear to deal with whatever lock was on it, sent Mikey and Raph to deal with the two by the hangar, and set off to take care of the one in front himself. He ignored the offended look from Raph when he instructed two of them to take care of two men. The look was interrupted as Mikey took off to get to them first, and Raph had to take off to catch up so as not to miss his chance. They’d meet Donnie around the back once it was cleared.

As he crept silently to the front corner of the building, he peered around it at the sole guard. Looking bored and put out, likely pulling the short straw to be there, he was swinging binoculars back and forth on their string. Stepping back into shadow, Leo picked up a stray bolt, tossing it at a nearby shipping container. It was an old trick, but it worked almost flawlessly. The guard walked slowly past the corner, cautiously stepping towards the containers, away from Leo. Once the moment presented itself, he moved up behind him without a whisper of sound except the small *shick* of his blades releasing. Bringing both the hilts down hard on the back of the guard’s head before he could even turn, he dropped unconscious to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Leo deftly moved him off where he couldn’t be seen, whispering, “Have a nice nap.”

At the back door, he arrived just after Mikey and Raph, the latter shoving at the former for some reason or another. Glaring at them, they both shrugged, unapologetic. Donnie was already inside, having propped the door open just enough for them to notice, and once they entered, they found him working on a control panel of sorts just away from the door. “It’s a basic system,” he whispered, looking back and forth from his holo to the panel. “I already have the security disabled, I’m ready when you guys are to shut down the lights.”

“Let’s do this,” Raph growled, the smile of anticipation lighting up his face just before the dim lighting shut off. There was shouting and hollering coming from the main hangar, and they fanned out, taking different positions as they made their way to the only door that could lead the criminals to their inevitable fate.

One man burst through the door with a flashlight, cursing and muttering about fuses and having to do things himself. There was a brief struggle of his flashlight shining rapidly around the back area before it went out and there was no more sound. After a few minutes and more yelling at the man to shit or get off the pot, two more men burst through the door, one with a flashlight, one with a rifle. Leo moved to grab the one with the flashlight, as he was closest, getting into a brief struggle, the large man fighting back before Leo kicked the back of his legs hard, causing the man to land on the back of his head with a sickening crack. As he popped back up, he winced as the other man got a short burst of bullets off towards the ceiling, the muzzle flash flickering light across Raph’s snarling face as he lurched forward to headbutt the man.

There was a small thump as the man hit the ground from the impact, but the damage was done. “Gigs up, dudes,” Mikey whispered, swinging down from a rafter to the door. “We go in swinging?”

“Move in fast, spread out away from the door where they won’t expect us,” Leo ordered in a harsh whisper.

“Thanks, Capn’ obvious,” Raph grunted, shouldering past him to quickly get through the door. Leo allowed himself an exaggerated eye roll into the dark before following his brothers into the room now filled with the clicks of guns being loaded and flashlights moving around. “Go in swinging,” he whispered, rolling off to the side past the door and becoming one with the shadows, as was their way.

[standtoreason93]

The Bible: Reading the “Ordinary” Way

By Greg Koukl

I never like the question “Do you take the Bible literally?” It comes up with some frequency, and it deserves a response. But I think it’s an ambiguous—and, therefore, confusing—question, making it awkward to answer.

Clearly, even those with a high view of Scripture don’t take everythingliterally. Jesus is the “door,” but He’s not made of wood. We are the “branches,” but we’re not sprouting leaves.

On the other hand, we do take seriously accounts that others find fanciful and far-fetched: a man made from mud (Adam), loaves and fishes miraculously multiplied, vivified corpses rising from graves, etc.

A short “yes” or “no” response to the “Do you take the Bible literally?” question, then, would not be helpful. Neither answer gives the full picture. In fact, I think it’s the wrong question since frequently something else is driving the query.

Taking “Literally” Literally

Let’s start with a definition. According to the New Oxford American Dictionary, the word “literal” means “taking words in their usual or most basic sense without metaphor or allegory, free from exaggeration or distortion.” Why do people balk at this common-sense notion when it comes to the Bible or, more precisely, certain passages in the Bible?

Let’s face it, even non-Christians read the Bible in its “usual or most basic sense” most of the time on points that are not controversial. They readily take statements like “Love your neighbor as yourself” or “Remember the poor” at face value. When citing Jesus’ directive “Do not judge,” they’re not deterred by the challenge “You don’t take the Bible literally, do you?”

No, when critics agree with the point of a passage, they take the words in their ordinary and customary sense. They naturally understand that language works a certain way in everyday communication, and it never occurs to them to think otherwise.

Unless, of course, the details of the text trouble them for some reason.

What of the opening chapters of Genesis? Is this a straightforward account describing historical events the way they actually happened? Were Adam and Eve real people, the first human beings? Was Adam created from dirt? Did Eve really come from Adam’s rib? Did Jonah actually survive three days in the belly of a great fish? Did a virgin really have a baby? Such claims seem so fanciful to many people, it’s hard for them to take the statements at face value.

Other times, the critic simply does not like what he reads. He abandons the “literal” approach when he comes across something in the text that offends his own philosophical, theological, or moral sensibilities. Jesus the only way of salvation? No way. Homosexuality a sin? Please. A “loving” God sending anyone to the eternal torment of Hell? Not a chance.

Notice the objection to these teachings is not based on some ambiguity in the text that makes alternate interpretations plausible. The Scripture affirms these truths with the very same clarity as “Love your neighbor.” No, these verses simply offend. Suddenly, the critic becomes a skeptic and sniffs, “You don’t take the Bible literally, do you?”

This subtle double standard, I think, is usually at the heart of the taking-the-Bible-literally challenge. Sometimes the ruse is hard to unravel.

An example might be helpful here.

Literal vs. Lateral

In the Law of Moses, homosexual activity was punishable by death (Lev. 18:22 and 20:13). Therefore (the charge often goes), any Christian who takes the Bible literally must advocate the execution of homosexuals.

Of course, the strategy with this move is obvious: If we don’t promote executing homosexuals, we can’t legitimately condemn their behavior, since both details are in the Bible. If we don’t take the Bible literally in the first case, we shouldn’t in the second case, either. That’s being inconsistent.

How do we escape the horns of this dilemma? By using care and precision with our definitions, that’s how.

Here’s our first question: When Moses wrote the Law, did he expect the Jewish people to take those regulations literally? If you’re not sure how to answer, let me ask it another way. When an ordinance is passed in your local state (California, in my case), do you think the legislators intend its citizens to understand the words of the regulations “in their usual or most basic sense without metaphor or allegory, free from exaggeration or distortion”?

Of course they do. Legal codes are not written in figurative language allowing each citizen to get creative with the meaning. The same would be true for the Mosaic Law. Moses meant it the way he wrote it.

But now, it seems, we’re stuck on the other horn of the dilemma. To be consistent, shouldn’t we currently campaign for the death penalty for homosexuals? For that matter, aren’t we obliged to promote execution for disobedient children and Sabbath-breakers, both capital crimes under the Law?

The simple answer is no. Here’s why. Even when a biblical command is intended to be understood literally, that does not mean it is intended to be applied laterally, so to speak—that is, universally across the board to all peoples at all times in all places.

Consider this situation: Jesus told Peter to cast his net in deep water (Luke 5:4). That’s exactly what Peter did because he took Jesus’ command literally, in its ordinary sense. He had no reason to think otherwise. However, even though Jesus’ command to Peter was literal, that does not mean the same command applies laterally to everyone else. We’re not obligated to cast nets into deep water just because Peter was.

Here’s another way of looking at it. California legal codes are to be readliterally, but not applied laterally. They only apply to those in California and have no application to people in other states. Its laws have local, literal application within its own borders, but no lateral application elsewhere.

In the same way, the words of the Mosaic Law, like those of all laws, are to be taken at face value by anyone who reads them. Yet only those under its jurisdiction are obliged to obey its precepts.[i]

The Jews in the theocracy were expected to obey the legal code God gave them, including the prohibition of and punishment for homosexuality. It was not the legal code God gave to Gentiles, however. Therefore, even if the words of the Mosaic Law were to be taken literally by those under the jurisdiction of that code, this does not mean that in our current circumstances we are governed by the details of the provisions of that Law.

A clarification is necessary here. Am I saying that nothing written in the Mosaic Law is ever applicable to Christians or other Gentiles or that there are no universal moral obligations that humanity shares with the Jews of Moses’ time? No, I’m not saying that.

Though Moses gave legal statutes for Jews living in the Jewish state, that Law in some cases still reflects moral universals that have application for those outside the nation of Israel. As I have written elsewhere:

Perversion is still perverse, and wickedness is still wrong, whether it be adultery, rape, incest, or bestiality—or any of a number of evil acts all condemned by Moses in the “old” Law.[ii]

So yes, we can glean wisdom and moral guidance from the Law of Moses for our own legal codes, but there are limits. Working out those details is a different discussion, however. [iii]

The question here is not whether we take the Mosaic Law literally, but whether we are now under that legal code. We are not. That law was meant for Jews living under a theocracy defined by their unique covenant with God. Simply because a directive appears in the Mosaic Law does not, by that fact alone, make it obligatory for those living outside of Israel’s commonwealth.

Americans are a mixture of peoples in a representative republic governed by a different set of decrees than the Jews under Moses. We are not obliged to obey everything that came down from Sinai. Even though it was commanded of the Jews, that does not necessarily mean it is commanded of us. If anyone thinks otherwise, he is duty-bound to take his net and cast it into deep water.

That confusion aside, we’re still faced with our original question: When do we take the Bible literally?

Reading the “Ordinary” Way

Here’s how I would lay the groundwork for an answer. If I’m asked if I take the Bible literally, I would say I think that’s the wrong question. I’d say instead that I take the Bible in its ordinary sense; that is, I try to take the things recorded there with the precision it seems the writer intended.

I realize this reply might also be a bit ambiguous, but here, I think, that’s a strength. Hopefully, my comment will prompt a request for clarification. This is exactly what I want. I’d clarify by countering with a question: “Do you read the sports page literally?”

If I asked you this question, I think you’d pause because there is a sense in which everyone reads the sports page in a straightforward way. Certain factual information is part of every story in that section. However, you wouldn’t take everything written in a woodenly literal way that ignores the conventions of the craft.

“Literally?” you might respond. “That depends. If the writer seems to be stating a fact—like a score, a location, a player’s name, a description of the plays leading to a touchdown—then I’d take that as literal. If he seems to be using a figure of speech, then I’d read his statement that way, figuratively, not literally.”

Exactly. Sportswriters use a particular style to communicate the details of athletic contests clearly. They choose precise (and sometimes imaginative) words and phrases to convey a solid sense of the particulars in an entertaining way.

Sportswriters routinely use words like “annihilated,” “crushed,” “mangled,” “mutilated,” “stomped,” and “pounded,” yet no one speculates about literal meanings. Readers don’t scratch their heads wondering if cannibalism was involved when they read “the Los Angeles Angels devoured the Houston Astros.”

We recognize such constructions as figures of speech used to communicate in colorful ways events that actually (“literally”) took place. In fact, we never give those details a second thought because we understand how language works.

When a writer seems to be communicating facts in a straightforward fashion, we read them as such. When we encounter obvious figures of speech, we take them that way, too.

That’s the normal way to read the sports page. It’s also the normal—and responsible—way to read any work, including the Bible. Always ask, “What is this writer trying to communicate?” This is exactly what I’m after when I say, “I take the Bible in its ordinary sense.”

Of course, some people may differ on what point the text of the Bible is actually making. Fair enough. There’s nothing dishonest about honest disagreement. They might have reasons to think some Christian is mistaken on the meaning of the text. Misinterpretation is always possible. However, conjuring up some meaning that has little to do with the words the writer used is not a legitimate alternative.

If people disagree with the obvious sense of a passage, ask them for the reasons they think the text should be an exception to the otherwise sound “ordinary sense” rule. Their answer will tell you if their challenge is intellectually honest, or if they’re just trying to dismiss biblical claims they simply don’t like.

Two Thoughts on Metaphor

Reading any writing the ordinary way requires we understand two points about figurative speech, both implicit in the concept of metaphor.

The New Oxford American Dictionary defines metaphor as “a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable…a thing regarded as representative or symbolic of something else.” So, metaphors take one meaning of a word and then creatively leverage it into another meaning to make an impact on a reader.

Here is the first point to be clear on: All metaphors (or other forms of figurative writing) rely first on literal definitions before they can be of any use as figures of speech. All words must first be understood in their “usual or most basic sense” before they can be used figuratively.

We find, for example, the word “shepherd” prominently featured in the 23rd Psalm. Do you see that we must first understand the literal meaning of “shepherd” before the phrase “the Lord is my shepherd” has any figurative power?

This point is critical for accurate biblical interpretation. Here’s why.

Sometimes we attempt to solve interpretive problems by digging through a Bible dictionary. This can be a helpful place to start since all figurative language relies in some way on dictionary definitions. But the dictionary cannot be the final word because it can never tell you what use a specific writer is making of any particular word or phrase.

Strictly speaking, no word standing alone can be a metaphor. Words can only be used metaphorically when they’re embedded in a context. Therefore, it makes no sense to ask of a solitary word, “Is the word meant literally?” because the word standing on its own gives no indication.

Dictionaries, by definition, can only deal with words in isolation. Other things—context, genre, flow of thought, etc.—determine if the word’s literal sense is being applied in a non-literal way, symbolically “regarded as representative” of something else.

Take two sentences: “The sunshine streamed through my window,” and, “Sweetheart, you are a ray of sunshine to me this morning.” Sunshine’s literal meaning is the same in each case. However, it is used literally in the first sentence but metaphorically in the second. Further, unless my wife understands the literal meaning of “sunshine,” she will never understand the compliment I’m offering her in a poetic sort of way.

So first, literal definitions must be in place before a word can be used figuratively. Second, metaphors are always meant to clarify, not obscure.

There’s a sense in which figurative speech drives an author’s meaning home in ways that words taken in the ordinary way could never do. “All good allegory,” C.S. Lewis notes, “exists not to hide, but to reveal, to make the inner world more palpable by giving it an (imagined) concrete embodiment.”[iv]

Figurative speech communicates literal truth in a more precise and powerful way than ordinary language can on its own. The strictly literal comment “Honey, your presence makes me feel good today” doesn’t pack the punch that the “sunshine” figure provides. The metaphor makes my precise point more powerfully than “words in their usual or most basic sense” could accomplish.

Remember, even when metaphor is in play, some literal message is always intended. Hell may not have literal flames,[v] but the reality is at least as gruesome, ergo the figure.

Once again, it’s always right to ask, “What is the precise meaning the writer is trying to communicate with his colorful language?” But how do we do that? Here I have a suggestion.

The Most Important Thing

If there is one bit of wisdom, one rule of thumb, one useful tip I can offer to help you solve the riddle of scriptural meaning, it’s this: Never read a Bible verse. That’s right, never read a Bible verse. Instead, always read a paragraph—at least.

On the radio, I use this simple rule to help me answer the majority of Bible questions I’m asked, even when I’m not familiar with the particular passage. When I quickly survey the paragraph containing the verse in question, the larger context almost always provides the information I need to help me understand what’s going on.

This works because of a basic rule of all communication: Meaning flows from the top down, from the larger units to the smaller units. The key to the meaning of any verse comes from the paragraph, not just from the individual words.

Here’s how it works. First, get the big picture. Look at the broader context of the book. What type of writing is it? History? Poetry? Proverb? Letter? Different genres have different standards for reading them—obviously.

Next, stand back from the verse and look for breaks in the passage that identify major units of thought. Then ask yourself, “What in this paragraph or group of paragraphs gives any clue to the meaning of the verse in question? In general, what idea is being developed? What is the flow of thought?”

With the larger context now in view, you can narrow your focus and speculate on the meaning of the verse itself. When you come up with something that seems right, sum it up in your own words. Finally—and this step is critical—see if your paraphrase—your summary—makes sense when inserted in place of the verse in the passage.

I call this “the paraphrase principle.” Replace the text in question with your paraphrase and see if the passage still makes sense in light of the larger context. Is it intelligible when inserted back into the paragraph? Does it dovetail naturally with the bigger picture? If it doesn’t, you know you’re on the wrong track.

This technique will immediately weed out interpretations that are obviously erroneous. It’s not a foolproof positive test for accuracy since some faulty interpretations could still be coherent in the context. However, it is a reliable negative test, quickly eliminating alternatives that don’t fit the flow of thought.

If you will begin to do these two things—read the context carefully and apply the paraphrase principle—you will radically improve the accuracy of your interpretations. Remember, meaning always flows from the larger units to the smaller units. Without the bigger picture, you’ll likely be lost.

Don’t forget the rule: Never read a Bible verse. Always read a paragraph, at least, if you want to be confident you’re getting the right meaning of the verse.

Do I take the Bible literally? I try to take it at its plain meaning unless I have some good reason to do otherwise. This is the basic rule we apply to everything we read: novels, newspapers, periodicals, and poems. It’s reading the “ordinary” way. I don’t see why the Bible should be any different.

___________________________

[i] This principle is critical to understanding the role of Old Testament Law in New Testament times.

[ii] See Gregory Koukl and Alan Shlemon, “A Reformation the Church Doesn’t Need: Answering Revisionist Pro-Gay Theology—Part I,” available at str.org.

[iii] For the record, I think the immorality of homosexuality is one of those universal moral laws since, among other reasons, it’s identified in the New Testament as wrong irrespective of the Mosaic Law (e.g., Rom. 1:27).

[iv] C.S. Lewis, The Pilgrim’s Regress, “Afterword to Third Edition,” (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958), 208.

[v] In more than one instance, Jesus described Hell as “outer darkness” (e.g., Matt. 8:12) and literal flames give light.

[danigre]

Barack Obama's Response To Trump Revoking DACA Reminds Us What An Intelligent President Sounds Like

By Maria Elena

September 05, 2017

Barack Obama is not holding back anymore.The former President bashed President Trump for rescinding DACA, and even called Trump's decision "cruel" and "self-defeating.""To target these young people is wrong — because they have done nothing wrong," Obama said in a Facebook post. "It is self-defeating — because they want to start new businesses, staff our labs, serve in our military, and otherwise contribute to the country we love. And it is cruel."

Barack Obama: “Immigration can be a controversial topic. We all want safe, secure borders and a dynamic economy, and people of goodwill can have legitimate disagreements about how to fix our immigration system so that everybody plays by the rules.But that’s not what the action that the White House took today is about. This is about young people who grew up in America – kids who study in our schools, young adults who are starting careers, patriots who pledge allegiance to our flag. These Dreamers are Americans in their hearts, in their minds, in every single way but one: on paper. They were brought to this country by their parents, sometimes even as infants. They may not know a country besides ours. They may not even know a language besides English. They often have no idea they’re undocumented until they apply for a job, or college, or a driver’s license.Over the years, politicians of both parties have worked together to write legislation that would have told these young people – our young people – that if your parents brought you here as a child, if you’ve been here a certain number of years, and if you’re willing to go to college or serve in our military, then you’ll get a chance to stay and earn your citizenship. And for years while I was President, I asked Congress to send me such a bill.That bill never came. And because it made no sense to expel talented, driven, patriotic young people from the only country they know solely because of the actions of their parents, my administration acted to lift the shadow of deportation from these young people, so that they could continue to contribute to our communities and our country. We did so based on the well-established legal principle of prosecutorial discretion, deployed by Democratic and Republican presidents alike, because our immigration enforcement agencies have limited resources, and it makes sense to focus those resources on those who come illegally to this country to do us harm. Deportations of criminals went up. Some 800,000 young people stepped forward, met rigorous requirements, and went through background checks. And America grew stronger as a result.But today, that shadow has been cast over some of our best and brightest young people once again. To target these young people is wrong – because they have done nothing wrong. It is self-defeating – because they want to start new businesses, staff our labs, serve in our military, and otherwise contribute to the country we love. And it is cruel. What if our kid’s science teacher, or our friendly neighbor turns out to be a Dreamer? Where are we supposed to send her? To a country she doesn’t know or remember, with a language she may not even speak?Let’s be clear: the action taken today isn’t required legally. It’s a political decision, and a moral question. Whatever concerns or complaints Americans may have about immigration in general, we shouldn’t threaten the future of this group of young people who are here through no fault of their own, who pose no threat, who are not taking away anything from the rest of us. They are that pitcher on our kid’s softball team, that first responder who helps out his community after a disaster, that cadet in ROTC who wants nothing more than to wear the uniform of the country that gave him a chance. Kicking them out won’t lower the unemployment rate, or lighten anyone’s taxes, or raise anybody’s wages.It is precisely because this action is contrary to our spirit, and to common sense, that business leaders, faith leaders, economists, and Americans of all political stripes called on the administration not to do what it did today. And now that the White House has shifted its responsibility for these young people to Congress, it’s up to Members of Congress to protect these young people and our future. I’m heartened by those who’ve suggested that they should. And I join my voice with the majority of Americans who hope they step up and do it with a sense of moral urgency that matches the urgency these young people feel.Ultimately, this is about basic decency. This is about whether we are a people who kick hopeful young strivers out of America, or whether we treat them the way we’d want our own kids to be treated. It’s about who we are as a people – and who we want to be.What makes us American is not a question of what we look like, or where our names come from, or the way we pray. What makes us American is our fidelity to a set of ideals – that all of us are created equal; that all of us deserve the chance to make of our lives what we will; that all of us share an obligation to stand up, speak out, and secure our most cherished values for the next generation. That’s how America has traveled this far. That’s how, if we keep at it, we will ultimately reach that more perfect union.”

"It's a political decision, and a moral question," Obama continued. "Whatever concerns or complaints Americans may have about immigration in general, we shouldn't threaten the future of this group of young people who are here through no fault of their own, who pose no threat, who are not taking away anything from the rest of us."

He also added his two cents on Twitter too, because accessibility is everything:

Barack Obama ✔@barackobama

To target hopeful young strivers who grew up here is wrong, because they’ve done nothing wrong. My statement: http://www.facebook.com/barackobama/ 2:52 PM - Sep 5, 2017 8,0398,039 Replies 97,92297,922 Retweets 186,610186,610 likes

But of course, Obama wasn't the only one to trash Trump's decision. His Former Vice President and current BFF Joe Biden had a lot to say as well:

Joe Biden ✔@joebiden

Brought by parents, these children had no choice in coming here. Now they'll be sent to countries they've never known. Cruel. Not America.12:48 PM - Sep 5, 2017: 3,261Replies 70,190 Retweets 139,313 likes

While Obama is trying to live his best life as a private citizen, he promised in January that he would speak out if Trump ever revoked DACA.

"The notion that we would just arbitrarily or because of politics punish those kids, when they didn't do anything wrong themselves, I think would be something that would merit me speaking out," Obama said at the time, according to CNN.

If only Obama could swoop in and save the day...