#i just want to listen to him when it's summer

[subshine-thoughts]

"It'll be fun," he said. "A relaxing day by the lake, making sure we soak up the summer sun. I'll even pack us a picnic."

So you went, because why wouldn't you? He's your childhood best friend, after all. Of course you trust him. And spending a day away from civilization sounds like just the thing to relieve your stress.

So you go, spending the drive to the lake laughing and listening to the joint playlist you two have been building for years. You're having such a good time that it doesn't occur to you how far out in the middle of nowhere this lake is.

The morning is perfect. You both read under the sun, camped out on an oversized blanket. When your stomach growls, he reaches inside the picnic basket and pulls out your favorite type of sandwich and a bottle of water.

You think it's thoughtful. He even thought to open up the cap on the bottle so you wouldn't have to struggle with it.

Everything is going fine, and you're about to suggest doing this again before summer ends when a sudden wave of sleepiness hits you.

Must be from the sun, you think tiredly as you lay back down and close your eyes.

"Tired already?" your friend asks teasingly.

You can barely manage to nod in response. Just so tired.

You drift off to the odd sensation of breath against your ear and your friend whispering, "Don't worry. I'm gonna take care of you."

When you come to, still drugged and only half-conscious, almost all your clothes are off. You feel wet in between your legs, and your nipples feel sensitive, like they do after you've played with them for a long time.

Your best friend is dragging his lips down your thigh. You try to reach for him, but your hand is too heavy.

You drift off again.

This time, you wake to the sensation of being filled. You're a little more aware now, but still too sleepy to put together a coherent thought.

All you know is you're fully naked now, laying on your back with your legs spread, and your best friend is slowly sliding in and out of you.

When you moan, a sound of confusion mixed with pleasure, he smiles down at you.

"I'm sorry, princess. I just couldn't help myself."

His voice pulls you back to a more wakeful state, and you realize with horror what's happening. You try to struggle, but you're still so weak. He pins you down easily and picks up the pace of his thrusts.

"No, don't do that. I know you want this. Can't you feel how wet you are for me? How perfectly I fit inside you?"

To prove his point, he pushes deep inside you and holds himself there. You whimper and shake your head. All those years of trust, broken in a single afternoon.

"It's okay. You'll see it soon enough."

You should kick, or cry, or do anything to get him to stop. You should scream, even though there's no one around for miles.

But all you do is lay there while he continues thrusting inside you.

He leans down and kisses you, and despite your fear and your hurt, you kiss him back. You spread your legs open more for him so he has even better access to you.

They're automatic actions, your body responding to the stimulation.

At least, that's what you tell yourself as he comes inside you and then flips you onto your stomach for another round.

And when he nudges your legs open, you let him, lifting your ass into the air so he'll have an easier time violating you.

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##05

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,589

warnings: none?

a/n: i love james, james i love you.... i love you james

series masterlist

main masterlist

It was rather funny James thought. The way his days seemed to blend into a routine with you. More often than not, he’d be the one calling, late in the afternoon when he knew that you’d be back from your classes. 

He always called. Hoping you’d be home to answer the phone.

And you always were, back home that is, ready to answer his call. To do assignments while on the phone with him.

He’d twirl his wand in between his fingers, mindlessly, and press the telephone between his shoulder and cheek. He’d sit on the plush maroon couch he shared with Sirius, talking the night away, ignoring the way Sirius silently teased, ignoring the playful roll of Remus’s eyes.

“Are you listening Potter?” your voice crackled through the receiver, if he didn’t know better he would’ve said you were narrowing your eyes. James chuckled, turning away from Sirius’s mocking face, and quickly answered-

“Of course I am love- I always listen”

You seemed to hum in disagreement. 

“What was I just talking about?” you retorted, James saw Sirius stick a middle finger from the corner of his eye

“You were talking about the new girl your roommate’s seeing-”

“Oh-” you said, briefly, taken aback at the fact that he did pay attention “Aw Potter- you listen to me? How sweet” James laughed, a small blush spreading under his skin. 

“Why else would I call you?” he couldn't stop the smile pulling at his lips, he knew Sirius would tease later.

It would be worth it

“Because you ran out of friends and had to make friends with strange people on the phone-”

“You just called yourself a strange person-”

“You don’t know anything about me Potter, I could be a serial killer for all you know-”

“I do know about you though- I listen”

“Oh yeah? like what? what do you know about me, James Potter?” He could hear the smile on your lips, and he’d be lying if he said it didn't make the pit of his stomach flutter with excitement. 

“Well I know your roommate’s name is Charlotte, I know you tried learning how to play guitar when you were seven but greatly failed-”

“Oi! I didn’t fail, my talents just lie elsewhere-”

“Whatever you say doll-” he could hear you hmph in response. “I know you say you don’t have a favorite color- but I reckon it’s actually red”

“Why do you say that?”

“You always talk about you owning red-colored things- one plus one is two love,”

“Like what?” your words came out as a whisper this time, almost as if scared that James had found you out. 

“Like the new scarf, you said you got… and the rug you said you have in your room” James bit his lip, he wondered if you thought he was insane for remembering little details like those. “You’ve painted your nails red a lot too- or so you’ve said”

You stayed quiet.

“Your favorite season is spring, you’ve never been out of England, you’re an only child-”

You laughed all of a sudden, a short ‘ha’ that rang through the phone

“What?”

“I’m not an only child…”

“Oh, you never mentioned-”

“I have a little brother… he goes to a boarding school- far away” you cleared your throat “and I’m of course in Uni so I sadly do not see him very often,”

“Oh I’m sorry- that sucks-”

“Sometimes he spends summer break with me- or at least a few weeks, just to get away from the house you know? Parents and all-” James hummed in agreement. He thought of Sirius briefly, the way he’d turn up to his house at most halfway through summer break, full of bruises he tried to hide, eye bags that didn’t seem to go away until they were finally on the train to Hogwarts for the next term. He hoped that it wasn’t that kind of situation.

He shook the thought away, 

“He should be coming sometime soon I think… do you have any siblings?”

“My parents always wanted a girl but… no chance- they got stuck with me and Sirius”

“Sirius is your brother?”

“Brother in everything but blood, yeah”

“What does that mean? Like he’s adopted?” James laughed a bit, it wasn’t like his mother didn't try to do that.

“My mom would’ve loved to but no… Sirius has been living with me since we were sixteen— so yes, he’s my brother”

“I see… for a second I thought he was your boyfriend-”

“Oi! That’s gross-”

“Oh?” you said, tauntingly. 

“N-not like that! I just mean that I see him as a brother- it's like incest!” James stuttered out, rushing the words out of his mouth, you started laughing from the other side, enjoying sending James into a tizzy. 

“Besides, he’s madly in love with our mate-”

“Remus?” 

“Yes, Remus”

“I can hear you Prongs- I am NOT in love with-” Sirius screamed out from his room, 

“Shut up I’m on the phone!” James yelled back, snickering into the voice box. “He’s going to kill me actually”

“That’s a shame- who would I talk to on the phone if he did that?”

“Are you saying you’d miss me doll?”

“What? No- that is not what I said Potter”

“Oh you so would- you’d miss talking to me! you loveeee talking to me-“

“Shut up James! I actually hate you” James could feel the butterflies in his stomach and the beat of his heart in his ears. He didn’t think his smile could spread any wider, as he tucked into his heart the way his name rolled from your lips

“You love me-“ 

“You wish Potter” James pouted at the reappearance of his last name 

“I’m going to ignore you did that-“

“Did what?” you said with a smirk, knowing he’d notice the change in names. He cursed at Merlin silently- 

“Anywho, speaking of you missing me, I haven’t told you about my trip-“

“Where are you going?” 

“On a trip with the boys… camping-“

“Sounds like fun… i think- you excited?”

“Godri- God yes, we had to wait for forever for tickets and I had to basically fist fight this ugly troll-“

“Why do you need tickets for camping Potter?” you cut in 

“Oh- I mean- we’re going camping for this… tournament”

“That sounds exciting! What is it?” James’s throat went dry, he hadn’t thought you’d ask so many questions.

“What?”

“What?” you repeated, confused

“Sorry- It’s just some sports tournament, real small, like umm” he trailed off for a minute, almost muttering to himself. You could hear the rustling of clothing as if he had pressed the phone against his chest to cover the receiver. “Like rugby, yeah?” 

“But it's not rugby?” you asked, an edge in your voice as if saying he didn't make sense, which he didn’t, to be fair. He really needed to watch more muggle telly, he bit his lip.

“Well… no, but sort of?”

“It kind of sounds like you don't know what you're going to Potter— Or is it some weird, obscure nasty thing you don’t want to admit to me?” You said, James ignored the feeling in his gut, the one that made his skin crawl with goosebumps and made the corner of his lips curl

“I assure you it's no such thing- perfectly normal activities” he answered, breathlessly 

“When are you leaving for these supposed normal activities? How long will you leave me for hm?”

James felt like he might short-circuit,

“In like a week I think- you’ll have to do without me for a few days I fear”

You hummed in acknowledgment, and it got silent, for a second. Not long enough for it to grow awkward, which didn’t happen often between you. But it was long enough for James to think. Think about what your face might look like, the smell of your hair, the color of your eyes, he wondered if your eyes would catch the light of the sun in a way that would make his heart beat faster.

He knew they would.

He wondered if your chapstick tasted like fruits, or if you were more of a lipgloss type of girl. What if you wore lipstick instead? That could be kind of messy… Was he thinking of kissing you? When he didn’t even know what you looked like? 

He shook the thought away, quickly

He wondered if you wore flowy clothes in the summer, like the babydoll tops he saw last summer in London. He thought of what you might look like, he knew though, that regardless of it, he was in too deep by now.

Your yawn broke through the silence,

“Don’t fall asleep on me princess- that’s boring” James said, even though he was falling asleep himself. His eyelids seemed heavy and his words felt slurred, he still listened closely to the sounds coming from your side of the receiver

“You’re the boring one-” you yawned again “I’m so fucking tired though… finals are killing me”

“How much do you have left?”

“Not much… two more exams, two more days- feeling okay about them”

“That’s good- I’m sure you’ll do good baby” James didn’t even properly register the nickname slip, charming and cloying on his tongue. It felt natural, like your name. You tensed up on the other side of the telephone

“Goodnight Potter-” you said, words barely a whisper “Sleep well idiot”

“Good dreams doll- you’ll do great tomorrow”

“Thanks, James” It was his turn to tense and sit up, the mention of his name on your lips was enough to wake him back up

The phone call cut.

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby @santaasi @myheroworldandanimes

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED YOU also please send me an ask if you wanna be added/removed or i missed you, it is SO much easier for me to keep track than comments BUT STILL COMMENT STUFF I LOVE READING IT AND I LOVE YOU <2 thank you

[w2hoonki]

obsession | p.s

MDNI !

warnings : unprotected sex, dry humping

my eyes wandered around the room as they make their way to sunghoon, i couldn't help but blush at the way he looked. everything about him looked so pretty, the way his hair sat on his forehead, his lashes that fluttered as he ate, the way his wiped his mouth with a napkin. i can't deny that i was obsessed with him, but who wouldn't be?

he was just peacefully sitting with his friends, listening to them like the kind person he is. i looked away before anyone could notice my habits. my friends talked about our weekend plans we had, with all the boys they have a crush on. my friend group and another one were pairing up and going to the beach. i was the only person in the group who wasn't open about my crush, i normally shrugged it off like i didn't have one, but i only ever had my eyes on sunghoon.

as lunch finished up, i gathered my things and walked to my next class. sunghoon was in english next, not with me. i always followed behind him, but he never noticed me.

getting ready for the trip was easy, there was no one there to impress. i packed all my comfy and summer clothes and jumped onto the train. as i enter the train i make eye contact with sunghoon, he stands there doing basically nothing, and he has me on my knees with that gaze.

even though i hadn't packed any nice clothes i was going to find a way for him. all of his friends were loud but he kept his gaze on me the entire time. i couldn't help but notice every time our eyes met, leaving my neck red and hot. time traveling through memories, but something was missing, sunghoon. your heart started to race as you held eye contact. He wasn’t the type of guy to look for long but when your eyes met he couldn’t stop looking at you. It was almost like he wanted you the way you wanted him. he stared at you with lust and desire almost in need of you.

you couldn't help but adjust your skirt to cover your legs. sunghoon sat next to you and put his arm around you. "looks like we're the only non couple huh?" he told you with a grin. your face heated with embarrassment as the boy you loved had his arm around you and he was talking to you.

"yeah you're right, and maybe we could share a bed or something." you said with a grin. you tried to push it off quickly as if you hadn't said one of your nasty thoughts out to the boy you loved but he nodded.

as you entered the room you sat on the bed and sunghoon got onto it with you. he laid down and rested his head on the pillow. he was always a flirt with other girls so you had felt not what you had wanted him to think of you but you couldn't help it. you laid next to him and cuddled into your pillow.

"you could cuddle into me you know" he said with a smirk, the smirk that had you giggling like a middle school girl. you shook your head, playing hard to get, not because you wanted it but you weren't quite ready. he just chuckled at your words.

"maybe we could watch a movie" you said with a smile. he shrugged as if he didn't really care but you turned on a random movie and watched it. he wrapped his arms around his pillow and placed it on top of his lap, covering something. he watched you with a smirk and a bit to his bottom lip. his hips shifted under the pillow and a groan had lodged into his throat. his head leaned back onto the headboard and he mumbled under his breath. your core was starting to beg for him as he was starting to go crazy for you.

"you have no idea what you're doing to me" he groaned out. he put his hand out asking for permission and you gave it to him with a nod. his hands gripped your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. "i always see you, why do you think i flirt with all those girls, i thought one day you would come and stop me but you never did. you think you're the obsessed one?" he asked with groaning as he grinded up into you. you whimpered at his words wondering all the time his feelings for you had gone over your head.

"you're so attractive sunghoon" you said while gasping out as he was grinding into your soaked core. he was trying his hardest to go slow but he wanted to run one hundred ad fifty miles with you. neither of you could wait for the other as the lust filled the room and the two people in the room.

"you're just as hot sweet girl" he chuckled out while smiling his bright smile. the room filled with sounds of your lips crashed together and his deep breaths. eventually you were both bare in the bed together, clothes covered the sides of the ground as you both stripped.

"you're so gorgeous baby" he groaned out as his hands wandered up to your breasts, his hands gripped hard, a whimper escaping your lips. he pulled you onto him so you were straddling him, your thighs tightened around his waist as he held you on his lap. his hands left your chest to grip your thighs and place you onto the bed.

"can i?" he asked while pressing his tip to the opening of you core. you nodded quickly as your core soaked the sheets under you. his tip slowly entered your hole, you gasped out in pleasure, cries and moans left your lips as he fully entered you. you clenched down had on his cock as he filled your core the way you've always wanted him to. his cock brushed against your g-spot causing you to clench even harder around him. his hands gripped harder and harder as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier into your core.

"right there" you whimpered out into the room, his pace slowed down as he made sure you felt every inch of him deep inside of you. he groaned out as you gripped tightly onto his hair, his thrusts became heavier as he was getting closer to his high. he couldn't keep it inside of himself and as soon as you pulsated around his cock cumming, he was releasing deep inside of you.

after a bit he finally pulled out of you. the stretch was still there as he held you but you didn't worry about it.

"i love you" you mumble out to sunghoon. he only smiled at you before whispering "i love you too".

[moreau329]

Last repost I swear.

I keep getting linked Nora’s last post on Thea, and keep being told that this fandom lacks reading comprehension and makes assumptions.

I just wanted to say that I read the pair and I appreciate the extra context of Thea’s POV, but in my case, it doesn’t retcon any of the key points that make me dislike her.

First paragraph says she faced a lot of misogyny and racism in the nest. Not surprising, coming from the child raping and waterboarding team. She persevered and made it to the starting line. First raven boyfriend was a dick too.

Summer before Kevin and Jean started college she starts seeing them around more. Another mention of Jean being cute with her (devastating knowing what she later says about him). Kevin makes annoying comments about her then boyfriend. It is only when Kevin is 18 and legal and everything’s nice that Riko suggests Kevin to fuck her and she’s “oh! So that’s why he was annoying!” And is all on board to fuck. No grooming. Ok.

They start their secret relationship and get to know each other. Using Jean for passing notes… after his freshman incident… when he was 16… with 5th year and 4th year backliners seniors of her age… and in her mind she was “Jean and her old tricks tsk tsk this kid” .

Thea and Kevin make a promise to continue being the Raven exy It couple after he graduates. Thea promises not to contact him so the Moriyamas don’t suspect anything and he can focus on college. Thea has a successful career post graduation.

She keeps her promise not to contact him, even when the future she had envisioned for them to be a raven graduate exy it couple post Kevin graduation is vanishing throughout the events of the trilogy. But when she hers Kevin’s “never been skiing’ comment on live TV she tries reaching out to “old tricks” Jean for an explanation. And Riko. She flies to South Carolina to get answers.

Fin.

It was nice to see her own struggles in the nest expanded. Yes, she was a victim too.

Now. I -ME!- dislike her first and foremost for these:

This last Nora post made me even more bitter, knowing that even when 16 year old Jean was shamed for sleeping with people older than 21 (minus Grayson) and she joined in (years later she calls it old tricks, so the hive mind got to her), her and Kevin still asked Jean to pass notes. And when she wants answers she calls him. And then when she sees him 3 years later she alludes to breaking his ribs if he doesn’t tell the truth.

Despite always knowing the age difference between Jean and those backliners and listening to the scorn he received for it and watching him get beaten half to dead for it, she still is “a raven through and through” and even if Jean was statutory rap*d and Kevin’s hand was broken she still goes “no harm no foul”.

And yeah. She is no groomer, but they did live under the same roof and in the same spaces since Kevin was 14. It’s never said that they didn’t talk either or interact before Kevin was 18 either. Whatsmore, relationships are forbidden at Evermore but apparently Kevin was close enough in her orbit before joining the lineup that he knew about her two previous partners. Its weird.

I don’t know how having been racially and sexually discriminated erases all that.

Lastly. Nora made a good point at the beginning of that post:

Don’t forget you can hate or dislike whatever you like.

I’m sorry but I just saw this meme someone in the Venezuelan aftg fandom made to summarize why they don’t like Thea and I love it

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

A Little Time

(Steve Harrington x Reader)

Steve was always soft.

He was soft and gentle and kind.

Well, he was with you anyway.

It had always been that way since Middle School. When he first saw you again after summer break and you smiled at him with a quick wave across the park lot, Steve just knew you were good.

Too good.

He wasn’t as gracious in High School, he got popular and a little mean but you kept your distance, ran in different crowds. It was just how things were. But when he was paired with you in Bio or when he borrowed your notes there was a calmness that took over him.

A peacefulness he doesn’t experience often.

But now, after the hell you were all thrusted into at Star Court and everything that had happened since then Steve had hardened.

Exteriorly he had anyway.

The soft spot he’s had for you since Middle School was now goo, he was protective and worried and no matter how many times you reached out and touched his arm, gently telling him ‘it’s okay Steve, I’m tougher than I look’ it didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him was that you were safe and always within reaching distance.

And it’s not even that he didn’t know that, of course he knew how strong you were. He had witnessed it on more than one occasion. It was more like he knew that if he ever let anything happen to you he would lose his mind.

It would break him.

He almost felt as though he’d been looking after you since Middle School, making sure Tommy and his goon squad didn’t bother you, checking in during mid terms and finals, and even down to walking you to your car after shifts at Star Court.

And then more recently, dragging you out of the Upside Down and patching up whatever scratches or cuts you’d managed to get down there.

His touch always soft, always leaving you wanting and needing more. Despite his frantic and panicked over reacting, both of you always made it out alive.

Together.

And that was enough for now as you tried to adjust back into reality, real life taking over quickly and your early twenties flying by even quicker.

“Hey, you’re spacing out.” Robin snapped clicking her fingers in front of your face.

“Sorry.” You told her with a soft laugh, your attention spanning back to her.

“So are you coming?” She asked impatiently and making you nod not really knowing what she was referring to.

“Of course.” You replied to her just as Steve and Eddie rejoined you, a tray of fries and milkshakes placed on the table in front of you.

Steve sliding in easily beside you in the booth, his arm behind your shoulders resting on the seat, his back to the aisle so you were safely blocked between the window and anyone even passing through the diner.

His movements were casual but calculated.

He was comfortable when you were safe, and felt safe.

That’s all that ever matters to him.

“What are you gossiping about?” Eddie asked throwing a handful of fries into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously, your nose scrunching in disgust.

“Gross Eddie!” You scolded moving closer into Steve without even realising. His heart elating with joy as you did, his warmth showering you.

Robin watched with a small knowing smile as Steve passed you your milkshake, not even caring about his own until you were set.

“We were talking about your show later. When does it start?” She asked him also shoving fries in her mouth.

And you were listening to Eddie, you really were but Steve’s fingers brushed the side of your neck as you reached forward for some fries. And the electricity the small touch sent down your spine was deafening.

Literally.

You couldn’t hear Eddie talking about the itinerary. Just his mouth movement and animated hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t even hear Steve no doubt joking about bringing ear plugs.

It frightened you sometimes how he made you feel.

Because he was just Steve, your Steve. But just Steve nonetheless.

Gulping you blinked back into the room, a deep breath and focusing back on Steve’s voice.

“So we can get there at eleven? And you start around midnight? I’ll pick you girls up at ten thirty.” He confirmed looking down at you with an easy grin.

“Great! Sounds perfect.”

___

Later that night you were clutching onto Steve’s arm as if your life depended on it, Robin’s fingers hooked around your wrist as you all pushed through the crowds in the Hideout.

Steve, worried about losing you in the crowd wriggled his arm out of your hold and laced his fingers through yours instead. A grip you couldn’t escape from even if you wanted to.

Which you definitely didn’t.

Once you found a good spot you thought he’d let go, even when Robin passed him a beer you thought that must be it, he’ll want his hand back and you feel cold but he didn’t.

He tugged you closer beside him when the music started and eventually when bodies were moving and the crowd pushing forward he pulled you to stand in front of him, his hand letting go of yours but running down your rib cage and then finding home on your hip.

With you in one hand and his beer in his other he started to relax and enjoy the music. Nothing he wanted more in this moment. Having you in his arms in this moment was enough to make him happy for the rest of his life.

And then Corroded Coffin strayed from their usual set list and played some familiar chords.

The drums making you chuckle, Eddie’s cheesy line to ‘all the lovers out there tonight, let’s slow it down.’

Steve leaning down to your ear and you could feel his grin.

“I love this song!” He told you and you couldn’t stop the grin taking over your features as you turned to face up at him.

“I know Steve! You play this like a hundred times in the car!” You told him with a playful eye roll and he squeezed your hip in retaliation.

You giggled,

Giggled, like a pathetic little school girl.

But Steve managed to do that to you. Reducing you to a smitten girl with a huge crush.

Looking back at Eddie and his band you enjoyed the warmth of Steve surrounding you. His chest rumbling as he sang along.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me.

Joining in the singing you felt Steve’s thumb brush over the exposed skin on your hip, Robin swaying beside you both.

You weren’t sure what came over you but your eyes burned with tears and you blinked them away, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You were happy.

Relieved.

But so happy.

And it was Steve, it always came back to Steve.

By the time he was dropping back off at your place you didn’t want the night to end despite it now being almost 3am.

“Hey Steve?” You heard yourself before your brain even processed what you were doing.

You spun on the doorstep and he’d stopped in his tracks to face you, hopeful.

“Yeah?” He asked already inching back towards you.

You didn’t know this and he’d never tell you but his heart was pounding in his chest, he could hear the thud thud thud ringing through his ears. A million thoughts running through his brain.

“You wanna come in?” You asked so quickly as if to not allow yourself to change your mind.

Steve smiled, slowly at first, maybe a little shy as if unsure you were being serious but then definitely confident when he saw your chest heave with a brave breath.

Grinning he nodded and your bottom lip was captured by your teeth to stop your own grin.

“Yeah.” He breathed out jogging back up the path to you. “I definitely want to.” And before even giving you a chance to respond his hands were on your cheeks and he was kissing you so intently.

Still soft and still gentle like you always knew Steve to be.

But also determined and eager.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you.” He told you finally pulling away but still close enough that you could feel his lips against yours as he spoke.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to kiss me.” You joked back, leading him into shutting you up with another kiss, just a peck.

“Well I won’t keeping you waiting as long next time.” He offered standing up straight and letting you unlock the door.

“You promise?” You asked over your shoulder, a glint of something in your eyes that Steve hoped he got to see everyday.

“I promise.” He confirmed and following you inside, hands itching to find your skin again and heart still pounding in his chest.

[french-unknown]

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒

✔️ : complet 🔥 : smut

✧ 𝐎𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬_𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬_𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨_𝐇 🔥✔️

words : 67,851 Will imagined his death in numerous ways, numerous times. Being chosen as a tribute opened a road of new possibilities, some more horrifying than the others. He doesn’t want to be torn to pieces like Randall Tier’s prey. He doesn’t want to be burned like Francis Dolarhyde prefers to kill. But most of all he doesn’t want to be caught by Hannibal Lecter, a career tribute with a penchant for eating his victims alive. Too bad Hannibal seems fixated on him. Hunger Games!AU

✧ 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐲 @𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 🔥✔️

words : 72,515 After Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Will can't reconcile Abigail's death. He's done - with all of it. He needs to escape, to return to the only place he has ever felt safe and wanted. That place ends up being a sleepy town on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, where he spent one summer as a child, exchanging riddles and letters with his dearest friend: the Shadow Man.

✧ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱𝐬_𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 🔥✔️

words : 10,502 When Hannibal tells Will he's sick, Will is skeptical. Before he knows it, he's laying in a hospital bed and being told he's going nowhere for two weeks. Will is distraught until Hannibal swoops in and offers to take over Will's courses at the FBI Academy. Will doesn't mind Hannibal showing up every night with a home-cooked meal, but he might just resent Hannibal becoming the most popular teacher at the Academy in just two weeks... Season 1 AU - if Hannibal wasn't such a MASSIVE dick.

✧ 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛 𝐛𝐲 @𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱𝐬_𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 🔥✔️

words : 21,753 When Hannibal pops up next to Will in an FBI Academy graduation photo, the result is innocent enough...until Will's coworkers play with photoshop and make the image so much worse. Will would laugh it off, but it seems he can't take a picture without Hannibal showing up in the background. Can Will shake his persistent photo buddy? And more importantly...does he want to?

✧ 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 ✔️

words : 8,945 1st : Online classes due to the quarantine are how Professor Graham's students learn that: 1) Professor Graham has a cute dog; 2) Professor Graham is married; and 3) Professor Graham's husband is smoking hot. 2nd : Online conferences due to the quarantine are how Doctor Lecter's colleagues learn that: 1) Doctor Lecter has a beautiful home; 2) Doctor Lecter is married; and 3) Doctor Lecter's husband is fabulously buff.

✧ 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 (𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞) 𝐛𝐲 @𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐨 ✔️

words : 8,114 Hannibal is locked up in the Baltimore Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Supposedly he's in maximum security but he pretty much just breaks out and leaves any time it suits him. And it suits him to break out whenever he thinks Will needs him. I mean, they forgot Will's birthday! Come on, wouldn't you?

✧ 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 🔥✔️

words : 7,775 Imagine Will calling Hannibal’s cell phone after he’s incarcerated just to hear Hannibal’s voice on his voicemail. Imagine Will leaving Hannibal voicemails about how he wishes things had turned out differently. Imagine Will spilling his heart out to Hannibal’s voicemail, assuming that the man himself will never hear them. Imagine Hannibal listening to these messages.

✧ 𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 🔥✔️

words : 36,059 "Single Omega household seeking a primary caretaker for high-school aged female. Must own vehicle for chauffeuring, errands, and other duties as necessary. Room and board provided, and a stipend for necessities available for negotiation. Must have open availability and be willing to submit to a background check and drug test. Immediate start." Then a name, and a phone number. Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

✧ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐨 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 @𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐮𝐬 ✔️

words : 17,120 After using an Unforgivable to end the wizard hunt for Hobbs, top Auror Will Graham has been suspended for a year from office to teach the children of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though initially reluctant to delay his hunt for the Ripper, his misgivings rapidly fade after befriending the Potions Professor and former doctor, Hannibal Lecter.

For those who don't know, because I discovered it really by chance, there is a kind of extended universe of hannigram where the characters of Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy are shipped even if their characters are not in the same works.

Spacedogs is therefore the pairing between Nigel (Mads Mikkelsen) in Charlie Countryman and Adam (Hugh Dancy) in Adam.

To summarize, it's gangster! Nigel x autistic asperger! adam

✧ 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱𝐬_𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 🔥✔️

words : 28,512 Nigel isn't handling his divorce well. When a good Samaritan starts leaving him gifts on his balcony, Nigel gets suspicious. What could go wrong?

✧ 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲 @𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱𝐬_𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 🔥✔️

words : 55,651 Nigel moves to America when he's 10 years old. He hates every second of it. But when a kid in his class slaps a Post It note with a space fact on Nigel's back - his whole world changes. Nigel gets a new best friend, a new hobby, and a love story that he's not sure has a happy ending. Is it possible to meet the love of your life at 10? Nigel's about to find out.

✧ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 @𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 🔥✔️

words : 14,279 Immediately, the small bit of tension he'd been carrying in his neck began to unwind. He sighed into the plushie's shoulder, nosing at the collar of the shirt, and allowed his weight to fall upon it completely. It was propped up against the wall, making it easier to recline against. A smile crept across his face without his intention, and he knew immediately that he wouldn't be returning the bear or the shirt, not for a few more days at least. His eyes had just begun to flutter shut when he heard the distinct sound of a closing door and expensive shoes tapping against the wooden flooring. The walls were thin, he heard most noises that came from the apartment adjacent to his. Nigel was home. ____ Adam and Nigel are next-door neighbors in an apartment with very thin walls. By mistake, Adam ends up with a person-sized plushie that he just doesn't feel like getting rid of. As Adam's obsessive feelings towards his neighbor grow, as well as his collection of items he's stolen from the other man's apartment, he finds himself using the plushie as a stand-in.

✧ 𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐥 🔥✔️

words : 42,036 An unusual pairing of a thuggish psychopath and a sweet yet sheltered man with Asperger's syndrome. Loosely follows the plots of both movies the character are based from, but ignores a lot of the other characters in either(ie no Gabi, no Charlie, no Beth, etc....). Set in Manhattan but Nigel falls in love with Adam the way he fell in love with Gabi.

[irishironclad]

Walking As Somebody Else

Some place in Tennessee that had no name nor number to describe it there sat a rusted mobile home that some folk might assume abandoned or housing squatters. It if weren’t for the relatively new truck that was parked next to it. 

It was summer, the small AC unit dripped moisture and rattled in its struggle to warm the space that was too large for it. Vincent kept a clean home, any time there was a mess he felt an unnatural fear that someone would appear to scream at him about it. 

There were no pictures, no personal belongings unpacked, with everything away in luggage or small chests.  The cupboards held one plate, one bowl, one mug, and there was one set of silverware. 

Vincent sat in an old leather chair that he didn’t remember ever buying yet was wrinkled with his shape. He stared at a television he hardly ever bothered to turn on. While nursing a glass of Chattanooga 1816 Reserve paired with one of his cigarillos. Smoothing back his sandy blond hair he sighed and paid attention to his breathing and heart rate - listening for any abnormalities. There was no reason for an incident to happen now, but he worried about it constantly. There was no one he could call if it happened again. 

Today was the day he did it, the day he tainted his hands. He remembered trailing ash into the recruitment office, they didn’t question him none. More meat, another body. Vincent had hoped to die over there in the desert, but the Devil had other plans for him. So when they rotated him out, citing his ‘heart condition’ as why he couldn’t go back - he returned to nothing. 

The recession didn’t touch those who hadn't nothing to lose. Whatever Vincent had inherited from his daddy was left to ashes, and as far as the banks were concerned he died in those flames too. They weren’t too concerned to look, so he only needed to move to the other side of the state and no one thought much of it. 

So one bothered him, except for the lady who kept knocking on his door. See he’d made the mistake of getting involved, he realized soon enough that if he sat around doing nothing for nobody then soon enough he’d find himself eyeing the barrel of a gun. So he’d found himself working as a bounty hunter, as well as getting a P.I license. Helping out the local boys with a case here or there. Was even a sheriff’s deputy for a while. All that fell apart, it didn’t take long for them to get a whiff of who he truly was. No lawman. No protector. The stink of blood remained no matter what title he had. 

The woman at his door didn’t seem to get the message. Sarah-Lynn James had been calling on him a few times now. Vincent sighed and put down his drink, taking a moment to smooth his shirt and look presentable before opening the door. There stood a single mother, worn and tired, with gray streaking her once vibrantly red hair she now stood teary eyed with a freshly made casserole at his doorstep. 

“Mister Valério, I made you-” 

“Mrs James, that's very kind of you but I have to direct you to the sheriff again, I know you’re hurtin’ but I’m a bail bondsman not the police,” Vincent said calmly. 

“I know you’ve found people before who ain’t out on bail,” Mrs James said, her voice quivering, she shoved the casserole into Vincent’s arms and he had no real choice but to take it. It was still warm and smelled like it was chicken. 

“Mrs James those were criminals and known fugitives, missing children ain’t really-” 

“Her name is Jane, she just turned twenty, a tiny thing she never ate right. She’s allergic to shellfish and has a beauty mark on her right cheek,” Mrs James produced a polaroid of her daughter, she looked like a younger version of her mother. With all the life and energy of youth. Vincent’s chest tightened. 

“Ma’am the sheriff’s department…”

“Won’t lift a finger, says she’s an adult, she only just turned eighteen! And she’s never been one to leave like this!” 

He wanted to help, but there were complications. It was outside of his licensing, even if he was a former sheriff’s deputy this was stepping out of the line. Vincent had been careful, folk were out looking for people like him. It had been on the news more and more, and putting himself into harm's way - it only invited exposing himself. And really, what right had he to do good? That wasn’t he. He found bad people, not good ones. It was a different sort of hunt. 

“Mrs James…” he started. He had a hundred reasons he could give, but when he caught her gaze they died in his throat. Mrs James brown eyes were red and puffy and lined but they were the same as her daughters. Vincent saw they had the same laughter and joy in them, or they did. 

“Thank you for the casserole…” Vincent sighed. “Maybe… I’ll come by later, look at her room, see if I can’t find a lead.” 

“That's all I ask, thank you, thank you so much.” 

She left blissfully quickly and Vincent was able to close his door and place the casserole down with a sigh. He could humour her, head over, take a look, and tell her that there’s no way to find her daughter. That would be the smart thing to do. That would keep him safe. Even if the look in that mothers eyes struck at his heart. 

He got away with how things were, deputies turning a blind eye, using a false name. But this was real detective stuff… it would draw attention. Yet, the feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. If he couldn’t do this then why was he…

Vincent shook his head and stood up. Stuffed into a corner was a footlocker, hidden under stacks of files and old paperwork. Vincent cleared off the mess and opened the footlocker, inside were more notes and some leather bound journals. Layed on top was a chain with dog tags hung from it. Vincent barely nudged them with his finger before he felt a nauseous anger boiling in his throat and he snapped the footlocker closed. He rubbed his eyes and chewed his lip, unsure what to do, yet unable to ignore the nagging need that urged him on. 

What use are you if you don’t? 

He could just keep it quiet and not bother anyone. 

You have sins to repay. 

Vincent clutched his hands into fists. He could almost feel it, the prickling stabbing sensation that he had run from. Would he need to do it again? 

Freaks like you don't deserve to be alive if you don’t do nothin’ for nobody. 

Vincent avoided phones these days, but he had a burner that he kept around just in case. Dialing a familiar number he got an answer with only a few rings.

“Deputy Jones speaking.”

“Hey Jim, it’s Vince.”

“...hey man, you doing alright?” 

“Yeah, could you do me a favour? Wondering if you know-” 

“-Vince… the boss has been wanting to talk to you, something about a case, this one has the feds involved.” 

“...what’re they saying?” Vincent asked carefully. 

“You’re not a suspect but they just wanna talk, I don’t know the details.” 

“Right, well, can you tell me anything about the Jane James case.” 

“Jane James… Vince, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, the case?” 

“It isn’t one, she’s an adult and ain’t been gone a day, why’re you asking about this?”

“Thanks Jim,” Vincent said, hanging up immediately. He snapped the phone in half and tossed it in the trash. 

Feds weren't a good sign, but he’d always known they’d sniff him out eventually. Most of the boys had some inkling, but he was useful enough they didn’t care. Some of them even understood, others wished they could have done the same. But they didn’t know for sure, they didn’t know the details. 

How long could he remain in hibernation? Not long, not if the feds were here. Vincent considered the casserole on his table. If he was going to be found out anyhow then what was the harm? That was the cold logic he gave himself, in truth the way Jim had dismissed the case all together. That didn’t sit right. 

He took the time to shower and shave, considering his jawline in the mirror Vincent decided to keep his mustache. He felt it made him look professional; as well as making his face look a tad different. He carefully combed his hair, cleansed his face, moisturized, and applied his favourite cologne; citrus and vanilla bean. He didn’t do all this to impress, it was like a cleansing ritual, attempting to wash off the taint from himself. Apply enough perfume and you couldn’t smell the stink of blood. 

He pulled on his boots and an old denim jacket and left, deciding to take his 1992 Harley Daytona for the short trip. It usually lived concealed under a tarp behind the trailer home, but some part of Vincent figured it may be a while yet before he could ride it again.

Mrs James lived on the outskirts of Nashville in a small little home on a hill apart from the other houses. The grass hadn’t been cut in a long while, and the house desperately needed a coat of paint.  Mrs James welcomed Vincent in with offers of sweet tea and more food which Vincent politely declined. 

Jane’s room was on the second floor, it had a window but a sheer drop below it. The room was no less messy than one would expect from a young woman. Though the drawers and closet had been left ajar from what looked like her quickly packing clothes. 

You picked up a few things tracking people, and Vincent had learned the easiest way for folk to go missing is when they go missing by choice. 

“You say she’s disappeared before?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Mrs James said. “But never this long, and not like this, she's never packed before or stayed out more than a night.”

“Did you let her go out like that?” Vincent asked. As much as he hated to think it, there was always a possibility Jane was running for a reason. 

“I didn’t approve but I knew she was young and… I should have been more strict, I shouldn’t have let her go out, stupid, but I didn’t want to bar her like some animal.” 

The tone was sincere, if Mrs James was the issue she would have blamed her daughter. Vincent carefully stepped around the room, looking for anything out of place. If she didn’t run away, then she may have been running to something. A boyfriend? 

“She never dated,” was mom’s answer. 

Could’ve been a secret boyfriend, maybe, but mom said she never dated not that she wasn’t allowed to date. Hiding a boyfriend usually came after the first boyfriend who mom didn’t like. 

“Friends?”

“Yeah, I mean, a few, sometimes and she’s gone out with them but never any real close friend you know? I worried sometimes about that, you need folk you can rely on.”

Vincent was entirely sure mom wasn’t to blame at this point. Sounded line Jane struggled to really connect with folk, but maybe she wanted to. Maybe that was what this was all about. On the veranda there were pictures of Jane, with friends, never the same ones. Always with her seemingly with a group, never just her and one other friend. Always tacked on, an addition, an afterthought. 

You’re sure you’re talking about Jane? 

No computer in the house, so if there was someone tempting Jane out of her home it was done in person. Vincent found no letters, no notes, not even a diary or day planner. He was beginning to understand why the sheriff’s department didn’t want to touch this. Still something smelt off, twinged the hairs on the back of Vincent's head. 

Back in the desert he’d grown this awareness for things, a look here, a movement there, one rock out of place. Helped with keeping the boys from being shot when no one was looking. Helped even more shooting the other boys when they thought you couldn’t see. You never did stop looking for targets in the sand, even when there wasn’t any sand. 

There was a trash bin though, and inside of it Vincent found a few wrappers and random bits of discarded paper. But then there was a ticket, fairly new, punched. On it read ‘Visions - Bar and Dance.’ Vincent thought for a moment and was fairly sure that wasn’t anywhere in Tennessee. 

“Cincinnati,” Mrs James said. “She’s been to that one before that… that was the only time I ever got mad at her for going out… I didn’t want her crossing state lines Oh God did I push her-” 

“Ma’am I've seen cases with runaways before,” Vincent said. “A lot of them parents gave their kids a lot of reasons to run away and it took years before they did, I don’t think this is your fault.”

“I’m just… I just want her back safe.” 

“I’ll… do what I can, ma’am,” it felt odd. To hunt down something lost, something wanted. Then to hunt what no one wanted anymore. 

Mrs James attempted to force money into his hands again, but he wouldn’t take it. Not this time. Not anymore. He left her with a promise. Hell or highwater he’d bring her girl back. 

Vincent returned to his trailer, his breath caught in his throat when he approached the footlocker again. He swallowed and opened it, pushing aside the dog tags and the papers to find a wooden box buried underneath. He retrieved it and quickly sealed the footlocker and its memories back up. 

The box contained a gift. A browning hi-power handgun, the grip was mahogany and the steel blues with silver engravings encroaching up the sides. The word’s “Be Not Afraid” written on the slide. It was polished and clean, never fired. Vincent pressed the cold metal of the slide to his lips. He didn’t need the gun, he knew this, but it allowed him to pretend. 

He retrieved a magazine and loaded the weapon with a click of the slide and the hammer. He stuffed the weapon into his waistband and hid extra magazines inside of his jacket. There wasn’t much else to take, none of it he needed, and none of it he’d be able to keep once he was caught up to. Better to travel light. 

On his way out Vincent gave the trailer a pat on its siding as a goodbye, and he did the same for his bike. As much as he wanted to take it out with him it just wasn’t practical. So he got into his brown 2001 Ford Ranger and set off without so much as a look back at what had been his home for the better part of three years. 

It was a five hour drive to Cincinnati. Vincent drove hard to the Kentucky border, he didn’t know how long before a warrant would be put out for him. But he was sure whatever courtesy he’d gained with the sheriff wouldn’t hold off the feds forever.  

He stopped at a twenty-four hour diner just across the state border, the sun having cast itself into the west with an explosion of orange light. Vincent sat down and ordered coffee along with steak and eggs. No one paid him any mind. The radio softly cut through the din of the various truckers in the diner eating and taking a rest. It cut between country blues and Elvis, and Vincent allowed himself to relax. 

The last song slowly faded away and a voice replaced it. 

“Thank you for listening to 181.6 FM, your voice on the road. I’m Jared Culsinger, and I have here with me Bobby Kinney, he’s the founder of the Preservationist Foundation here to talk about the latest reports of so-called Metahumans appearing across the United States, thanks for being here Bob.” 

Vincent froze, mid sip of his coffee, and resisted the urge to spit it out. He could physically feel the palpations of his heart pulsing through his body like ripples in a lake. 

“No problem Jared, thanks for having me.”

“Now as it stands the federal government as well as any of the states have refused to comment on the existence of these Metas, so what can you say to people at home that’re skeptical?” 

“Well Jared all you have to do is pay attention, multiple medical experts have stated on the record about these cases, we saw just in the news a few weeks ago a young girl burned her way through a concrete wall, these people are out there whether the government wants to admit it or not.” 

“And to the people at home should they be concerned at all?” 

“They should but I don’t want to fearmonger. Metahumans are people, they just have a condition, they’re scared and they often don’t know how to control what's happening to them. It’s in their best interest as well as the public’s that they be identified and given the help they need.” 

Vincent let nothing show on his face or in his actions. He calmly glanced around and it didn’t look like anyone was paying any attention to the radio. He wasn’t even sure what he’d do if he were to be found out; though it was ridiculous enough that anyone could tell what he was. 

“So Bob, how would the folk at home be able to tell one of these Metahumans from someone normal?”

“It can be hard, but a few things to look out for. There’s the obvious like them doing things that a human shouldn’t be able to do, feats of strength, injuries that would kill someone else. But what we’ve found is that they can never hide what they are from friends and family, so we find so many of them homeless or drifting. So I’d say give a close eye to anyone who seems to be wandering into town for no good reason, doesn’t seem to have any connections to anyone else, they give vague details about where they’re from. That sort of thing.” 

Vincent decided to keep on driving through the night. Only stopping once to catch an hour of two or sleep on a back road off the highway. He made it to Cincinnati by early morning. 

The whole place was a mess of office buildings and construction. Vincent never liked cities, but they were good places to disappear into. And harder places to find someone. Whole place smelt of piss, Vincent sneezed. 

He drove around a bit, getting a feeling for the area. It didn’t take long for him to wander downtown and soon the streets were lined with bars and clubs. The neon lights flickered brightly even in the brightening light of the morning. He didn’t see anywhere labeled ‘Visions’. 

Vincent figured that if Jane were here to go clubbing she would have gotten a room nearby so she wouldn’t have to walk far. He began driving in ever larger circles around the block until he found a hotel which matched the seedy tone this part of the city had. 

The receptionist was a lovely middle aged woman who looked Vincent up and down while dragging on a cigarette. Vincent recognized the look, and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage. 

“Hello, darlin’” he said, laying on the accent a tad smoother and thicker than he would naturally. “Hopin’ to stay a night or two.” 

“Absolutely,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “Visiting someone?”

“No one special,” it was a practiced dance, something he’d picked up over the years. “Know any good places to get a drink around here?” 

“Depends what you’re drinking,” she said. “What're your tastes, hon?”  

Men. 

“I like to try new things,” Vincent drawled. “Heard there’s a spot nearby, Visions?”

“Oh that's definitely new, all sorts go there, I’ve been there a few times,” the receptionist leaned on her hand. “Maybe I could take you?”

“Why don’t you sell me where it is, sugar, and I’ll meet you there tonight.” 

“It’s a date,” she said, and she scribbled an address and her number on a scrap of paper. “Still needing that room, hon?” 

“Something tells me I’ll find a place to stay tonight,” Vincent said with a wink, and the receptionist blushed violently. Vincent sauntered out, he memorized the address she had written down and then tossed the paper without even glancing at her number. In fact he hadn’t even looked at her name tag. 

The false face had come easily, the smile practiced, the look in his eyes, the way eh drawed out his vowels. No one taught him this, it was a natural thing. Different face, a different name. Alway walking as somebody else. 

Evening came soon enough, and with the neon signs illuminating the dimming streets Vincent. As he walked the streets he realized he felt elated, a smile growing on his face without his consent. The trail, the hunt, the chase, the searching. He missed these things, it felt right, it felt like him. 

Once he noticed it, instinctually he tried to push the feeling down out of reflex. Scared of what it meant, of why he felt this way. Forcing himself to remember his first hunt, his first kill. Acid scorched Vincent’s throat. By the time he found the club Vincent was frowning again. 

He watched as people lined up outside to get in. It was only half your average club crowd, frat boys and girls dressed in too little for the cold. But the other half was interesting, suits, all older, all were able to skip the main line and enter right away. 

Some of the suits the bouncer just glanced at and let in, but others had to wave cash. That was a way in quickly. Vincent was just about done eyeing his way in when he heard buzzing from his glove compartment. He opened it, pushing away the empty cigarillo packs and unpaid parking tickets to find one of his burner phones buzzing away. 

Vincent raised his eyebrow, he didn’t get scammers or anything. Anyone who called that number knew it and knew who they were callin. So Vincent flipped it open and answered. 

“Mister Valério?” 

“Who’s calling?” 

“Agent Milton, FBI.” 

“Right, and what can I do for you Mister Milton?” 

“Is this Vincent Valério I’m speaking to?” 

“It very well could be but I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” 

“Right, well, Mister Valério I have a few questions for you and I’m wondering if you might come down to the local station.” 

“Well I’m a might busy right now, Agent,” Vincent glanced behind him out of habit. No one was sneaking up on him. 

“I thought as much, when I visited your trailer you weren’t there and your vehicle was gone.”

“Nice of you to stop by.”

“Yes, do you mind telling me where you’ve gone?”

“Off to visit family.”

“Right, according to our records you have no living family.”

“Is that so?” Vincent rummaged around his glove compartment and managed to find a cigarillo. His voice had been calm, but this was a ploy. He had to play this game to buy himself time but he could feel the well of shame in his gut; a cauldron of self disgust that threatened to spew out of his mouth. The taste of tobacco on his lips soothed it slightly. 

“Your father died in 2006 right?”

“I’m sure you know already.” 

“And you enlisted to the US Army Rangers that same year, correct?” 

“You tell me.” 

“It’s not exactly normal behaviour to enlist right after a close family member dies is it?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” 

“And then there’s the manner of his death, coroner didn’t even know what he was looking at, it was like something tore him apart from the inside. He couldn't even put down cause of death.” 

“I didn’t read that case,” Vincent said. He dragged heavily on his cigarillo as the memory came to him. Gurgling and choking, red spikes piercing flesh from within. 

“Listen, Vince, I made this call out of professional courtesy for the work you’ve done and out of respect for you as a veteran but… I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you come into the station or I’ll have to get a warrant.” 

“If ya could’ve gotten a warrant you would’ve already,” Vincent said. “So ya’ll either can’t or ain’t wantin' to, either way Agent, you and I ain’t gunna chat again.” 

Vincent hung up and snapped the phone in half, tossing it out the window before getting out and approaching the club. He joined the short line of suits who paid to get in. The bouncer raised an eyebrow at him, but accepted the wad of cash Vincent offered him. 

“Only 200$ to get in,” he said. 

“Keep the change.” 

“Much obliged but you sure this is your scene, cowboy?” 

“I’m sure, maybe you can point me to who I’d talked to if I wanted something… different?”

A hint of displeasure showed on the bouncers’ face “Talk to Chase at the bar, he’ll set you up.” 

“Thank ya”

The pounding beat of music vibrated through the neon halls. Doorman was right, it wasn’t his scene at all. Vincent never did like techno much. 

There were three sorts of folks here. The ones with a lot of tattoos and too little clothes. Full of piercings and strange colours all over. Then there were the suits, stiff and coked up; looking for something they could only taste privately. Then there were the staff, all young, too young. Girls and boys both. Vincent felt something settle in his stomach that he didn’t like. 

The dance floor was crowded with people lost in a haze of substance and song, neon beams streamed across them like search lights. Older men pulled young women into private rooms furnished in velvet. Vincent noticed the weight of his gun more and more. 

Vincent skirted around the crowd and towards the bar, he sat down with a sigh. Pinching his nose, he had to focus on Jane. He began to think through how he would search the place, that was until he was distracted by the bartender. 

His messy curly brown hair was pulled back in a short loose tail, his turtle neck hugged his body a little too much. And he smiled sweetly at Vincent, who couldn’t help the grin he got on his face. 

“What can I get you?” he asked. 

“Whatever you’re best at, sugar,” Vincent drawled. The bartender batted his long eyelashes and grinned, reaching down to grab a glass. Vincent swore he was showing himself off. 

“What’s a cowboy like you doing here?” 

“Looking… for something.”

“Oh yeah?” the bartender delicately placed the drink before him, his nails were painted blue. “What would that be?” 

Vincent slowly sipped the drink, tasting sweet whiskey and pomegranate as he looked him over. 

“You first, what’s your name, sugar?” 

“Chase,” he purred. 

“And what’s a pretty little thing like you doing working here?” 

“It’s a job,” he shrugged a graceful shoulder. “Now you got a name, cowboy? Or you too mysterious for that?” 

“V- Cain” 

“Cain,” Chase repeated, tasting the sound of it. “Very mysterious, that your real name?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Not at all.” 

“Good.”

“Still haven’t told me what you’re looking for, so what is it, cowboy?” 

Vincent paused, weighing his options. For all he knew he’d be arrested on return home, one night couldn’t hurt… he snuffed that thought quickly. It was tempting, but not important, he had work to do. 

“Looking for something different, taste wise,” Vincent said. “I heard they did that sort of thing around here.” 

The playful light dropped from Chase’s eyes and his smile dropped, Vincent hated it. 

“Yeah,” he said, he sounded almost robotic. It was as if he was forced to comply. “This way.” 

Chase brought Vincent past some curtains and down a long hall, the music faded to a distant hum as they entered a large dimly lit room. There Vincent joined a group of suits, all of whom looked strung out. They sat in plush velvet chairs, watching a dim stage in anticipation. Vincent joined them. 

The lights faded into a purple haze and from the curtains came ten women. Girls actually, the oldest couldn’t have been older than twenty, and the youngest was only twelve. Their faces were glazed over, staring off into the middle distance. All were dressed as if they were going to prom; with short skirts dressed full of sequins. The suits perked up, eyeing them and panting like rabid dogs. 

Vincent clenches his fists, he could feel a stabbing pain in his heart. His blood physically reacted to his anger, and threatened to reveal itself. He breathed through his nose, and scanned the lineup. 

It was hard to recognize her immediately with all the makeup they had plastered on her face. But there she was, Jane. The light from her eyes was gone. Vincent scanned the room, there were bouncers at every corner, likely armed. He would need to get Jane alone first. 

Chase came around and handed each man a menu, there displayed was each girl as if she was some premium cut of meat. With her age, her weight, and even her ‘mileage’ and though many of them had a number there Vincent was relieved a little to see Jane’s was zero. The price for each girl was barely that of a new car. 

Vincent’s heart pulsed but he maintained an air of calm; he indicated to Chase that he was interested in Jane. The suits chose their prize, Vincent struggled within to not kill them all here and save the other girls from what would happen next. He reminded himself he was here to do a job. One job. And getting himself killed helped no one. 

The girls were pulled off the stage and pushed into side rooms, the suits eagerly followed them, panting like dogs. Vincent swallowed back the acid in his throat and followed Jane into the room she was placed in. 

She stood waiting for him, staring off into the distance. She shook like a leaf, and blinked back tears. Though she otherwise looked unharmed. As Vincent stood there thinking of what to say she silently began to unclasp her dress. 

“Stop,” Vincent said quickly, Jane jumped in fear. Vincent softened his face and knelt down, speaking as calmly as he could. 

“Your name is Jane,” he said, and she froze. “Your mother is named Sarah-Lynn James, she sent me here, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to get you out.” 

“Are you… with the police?” 

“Not exactly, my name’s Vincent, just breathe okay?”

Jane continued to sob softly into her hands. Vincent scanned the room, besides the lush bed and cushions, neon lights, and mirrored ceiling; there wasn;t much. No secondary exit. Vincent began considering how far he could get with Jane in tow before he was stopped; not far. 

He was considering hiding her under his jacket when the neon lights shut off abruptly and they were left in darkness. Vincent heard shuffling outside, footsteps, shouting. He gripped his pistol and pulled it from his waistband. 

Speakers crackled to life, and a soft voice spoke out into the darkness. 

“Step out.”

Vincent felt an immense pressure in his head, like the words physically weight a tone on his mind. His legs nearly moved to obey, like he was meant to do so; yet he caught himself. He blinked in confusion, and in that moment of lost focus he didn’t immediately realize Jane had left his side and walked towards the door. 

He jumped to his feet and shoved himself in front of her as she stepped into the now bright lights of the stage room. Jane bumping into Vincent’s back was enough to knock her out of her trance and she froze again. 

Vincent gripped his pistol with white knuckles but did not raise it, they were surrounded by twelve armed men who pointed pistols and shotguns at them. In the middle of them was a portly balding man who smiled brightly at him. 

“It doesn’t work the best on people like us,” he said, his voice reverberating through Vincent’s skull. His heart beat thumped in his head. 

“You don’t recognize me but I recognize you… Vincent, right?”

Vincent said nothing, he did his best to tune out what he was saying and scanned the room. Only one exit. 

“You look good, been working out? You’re not as skinny as you were but then we were both young.” 

Vincent observed the armed men, they all had that glazed empty-minded look about them. Behind them, just barely, Vincent could swear he saw Chase hovering behind them. 

“I was in the program too, Vince, I’m Basil remember? Cut pretty early because they realized my voice… well everyone hears it… everyone listens you know?” 

Vincent was having trouble not listening but he managed to keep his face blank even though he felt an urge to reply. Like he was obligated to, like he wanted to. 

“No matter what I say, everyone wants to listen and do as I say, except us, except metas, the stronger they are the more they resist,” Basil laughed. “Took some trial and error to figure out, but I realized what this meant. These people, they’re meant to serve me, I’m meant to command you see? That's why I have this voice.” 

Vincent tried to remember how many bullets he had. Thirteen rounds in each mag, one locked and loaded, two more in his pocket. That made thirty-nine rounds. More than enough if he was accurate, but he didn’t know if these thugs were wearing body armour, or if there were more waiting to bust in. 

“I realized these people are like cattle, so I treat them like such, bought and sold, meat for me to do as I will; but you, oh your power is even greater. You were a warrior. I could use a warrior, Vince.” 

Vince spotted Chase again, he was staring at him from behind the thugs. His eyes were wide, and has lost the glazed look that he had before. He stared at Vincent, and at Jane. Vincent looked at him intensely. 

“All your life, Vince, you’ve been a lapdog for the state, for the obsolete! We’re the next step, stronger, faster, smarter, it just takes time; that’s what I’m building here don’t you see? A world where we don’t have to walk as if we’re something we’re not!”

There was a pause, as Basil spread his arms open in expectation. Vincent stared at him unimpressed, and the smile slowly faded on Basil’s face. 

There was a crash and within a moment the whole room was plunged into darkness. Vincent reacted immediately, grabbing Jane and throwing them both to the side. Lunging behind the stage the darkness was cut with bright muzzle flashes as the thugs opened fire. 

Vincent shoved Jane onto the floor and covered her body with his as the bullets ripped around them. When there was a break in the gunfire he quickly popped out of cover and spit out a flurry of ten rounds, unsure if he even hit anything. 

Jane was crying, Vincent’s ears rang with noise. He smelt blood, and swore he felt sand between his fingers and the scent of blood mixed with the stench of burning oil. 

He grit his teeth and popped out of cover to fire three more times, until his pistol clicked empty. This time he definitely heard a body hit the floor; he dove back down to quickly flick out the empty magazine and replace it with a fresh one. 

The door to the room slammed open, light from the bar spilled into the darkness and illuminated a wide strip of the room. Five or six more bouncers rushed in, and Vincient stood and fired accurately as they paused to take stock of the situation. Two shots per man in rapid succession. Vincent threw himself backwards, his back slamming into the floor as bullets ripped through the stage, throwing wood splinters everywhere. 

Vincent felt his last magazine slip from his waistband and clatter to the floor, sliding under the stage and into the dark where he couldn’t see. While controlling his breathing he pulled back the slide on his pistol and saw he only had one round left. Next to useless, he stuck the weapon into his jacket. 

“There’s no way out of this, Vince!” Basil shouted from across the room. 

Vincent felt Jane’s trembling hand holding onto his arm. His heart beat hard in his chest. 

“All your life you’ve been running, the only way out of this is to show me what you are!” 

Vincent placed his hand over Jane’s, his fingers cracked like they were full of ice. 

“Keep your eyes closed and don’t move until I come back,” he said softly. 

Vincent’s heartbeat palpated through his body. Splinters formed under his flesh, spreading like ice. Hardening into crystal. Vincent found a nail on the floor and picked it up, before he got to his feet and slowly stepped out of cover. 

He kept his hands open and arms spread and Basil kept his men steady. The lights flickered back on and Vincent saw he was able to bring down seven of the thugs. 

“I know what you are,” Basil said, grinning triumphantly. 

“Doubt it,” Vincent said, and he took the nail to his wrist and tore open his flesh. 

Crimson blood spurt forth in a wide shower, immediately solidifying into razor sharp fragments which hailed down onto Basil and his thugs. They ducked and stumbled, covering their heads and eyes. 

Vincent flicked his wrist and blood rapidly formed a long spear which snapped off from his open wound, he gripped it and swung it in an arc knocking three of the men down by sweeping their legs. Adjusting his grip he shoved the point into the throat of the man to the far right, his pistol clattered to the ground as he gurgled on his own blood. 

Gunshots rang out, Vincent felt two pinpricks of pain on his back. He dropped the spear and turned, seeing a bouncer staring at him with wide eyes. A spike formed in Vicnent’s hand and he tossed it forcibly so it flew through the air and buried itself in his forehead. 

He whipped around and with the rapid movement of his arms Vicnent unleashed a flurry of spikes into the remaining bouncers between him and Basil. They ducked and stumbled to avoid them, but Vincent’s aim was true, and all of them fell to the ground with a six inch spike buried in their flesh somewhere. 

The room stank of blood and echoed with the sounds of dead and dying men. Basil lay on his back, staring up at Vincent with a mixture of fear and excitement. 

“Don’t you see what you're capable of? Don’t you see what you are?”

Vincent approached, blood dripping from his arm. He grabbed Basil by the throat and hoisted him up. 

“We’re… brothers, you and I,” he croaked. 

Vincent pressed his palm against Basil’s eye. 

“I killed my brother” 

His skull cracked loudly as the crystal shard shot right through his brain. 

Jane kept her eyes shut as Vincent led her out of the club, a trail of blood followed them. Yet just as quickly as it strained the floor the blood began to ripple and flow; pushed by an invisible current as it followed Vincent. Crawling up his leg to squeeze its way into his wound. The crystals shattered apart and melted into liquid which followed the flow. Vincent’s heart pumped painfully, the second he got to his car he popped an aspirin. 

He only told Jane to open her eyes when the club was far out of sight. She refused to listen until they were out of Cincinnati and headed towards the state border. 

Vincent inspected his wrist, only a thin scar remained. It had been so long since he’d done that. It felt… he hated that it felt good, like a pressure was released, a weight off his shoulders. Yet it also came with sickness, his heart hadn’t stopped aching. His head sounded, his blood felt heavy; constantly reminded of what was inside him. 

“Why didn’t ya call the police?” 

“What?” Vincent asked, starting out of his own thoughts. 

“The cops, why didn’t you call ‘em when you found me?” Jane asked. 

“Couldn’t be sure they’d actually help,” Vincent said. “Place has been there for a while, good chance five-oh know ‘bout it, and they’ve done nothin.” 

Jane was silent for a long while, Vincent scanned his mirrors. Looking for anyone tailing him, be it Basil’s goons or the feds. 

“He called you a Meta,” Jane said. Vicnent glanced at her in his rearview mirror, she was staring out the window at the passing farmland. 

“Yep.” 

“I’ve heard talk about them on the radio, folk don’t like ‘em.” 

“Yep.” 

“That… man, he was one.” 

“Yep.” 

“Are you?” 

Vincent considered the road for a moment. 

“I’m just here to get you home.” 

They rode in silence for a long while, until Jane spoke again. 

“I won’t tell no one.” 

Vincent couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. He saw a turnoff that led to a service plaza, little more than a gas station, a truck stop, and a few other amenities. But there was a McDonalds. 

“You hungry, kid?” 

Soon enough Jane was sitting munching on fries and a burger, she even managed a little smile. Vincent smiled back as he sipped a cup of coffee. 

He tried not to think about how Jane would turn out later, how any of this would affect her in life. But maybe, just maybe, a few quiet moments feeling like a little kid again would help. He sure as hell never got that. 

“Can I get a McFlurry?”

“Knock yourself out, kid.” 

They took their time but soon enough they were off again down the highway, Jane slurping down a milkshake and Vincent feeling a little bit better. The drive back to Tennessee was remarkably uneventful, Vincent even found himself not looking around for danger. A sense of peace came over him, the last thing he did as a free man was a wholly good one. 

He pulled into the driveway of the James home, Mrs James opened the door, her eyes welling with tears. Vincent had hardly parked his truck when Jane ran out and sprinted into her mothers arms. They were both wailing and laughing, touching each other's faces. 

Vincent stood off, hands in his pockets. Allowing them their moment, before he quietly stepped back into his truck. 

“Wait! Mister Valério!” Mrs Jones rushed up to the window of the truck, leaning in to kiss Vincent on the cheek. 

“Is there sure there’s no way I can pay you?”

“Like I said, ma’am, the casserole is enough, take care of your daughter now,” Vincent looked over at Jane. “Stay out of trouble, you hear?”

“Yes sir,” Jane said with a smile. 

Sirens echoed through the air and Vincent pulled out of their driveway, speeding off as the sirens got louder. He blew past the turn that led to hsi trailer, seeing the distant glow of police lights heading that way. 

He turned back towards the highway. He was sure he wouldn’t get far, and a part of him screamed to give it up. Yet a more base animalistic voice drove him to run, flee, at least try to escape the noose tightening around his neck. 

Vincent turned onto the highway, as he did so, seemingly out of nowhere, three black SUV’s turned onto the highway with him. They matched his speed exactly. Vincent glanced at them through his mirrors, their windows were tinted illegally dark. Feds. 

He pressed onto his gas, the old engine in his truck shuttered. One of the SUV’s pulled ahead of him. Vincent tried to swerve but hsi front locked with the SUV’s rear and pitted him into a spin. Vincent kept himself from rolling over and came to a stop, looking up to see his truck boxed in and surrounded by men with guns and dark shades. 

Game over. 

Vincent placed a cigarillo in his mouth and lit ii, casually stepping out. He half expected to get shot right there and then, but he wasn’t. He frowned. Cops weren;t this quiet, even Feds. He looked around, they all had weapons trained on him, but no shouts, no commands to see his hands, nothing. No logos either…

“Mister Valério,” a woman’s voice said. Vincent turned around, a brown woman in a suit approached him. Her heels clicked against the pavement, the tip of a tattoo poked out from her collarbone. She extended a hand. 

“You can call me Saturn,” she said, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I have a career opportunity for you.” 

TAGS: Remember when I used to tag people? @west-end-lady @redheadedbrunette @bespectacled-ghost @lowes-core-waifu @talesfromgringolandia @borgesperovago @thelegendofsqam @beakedwhalesyo @a-beautiful-crow @paula-of-christ @tinfoil-catholic @kasrkinguardsman @rose-in-the-snow @supreme-leader-stoat @the-lost-alchemist @holbytlanna @cousin-possum-kc @cheerfullycatholic @cat-a-holic @the-writers-wrench @animeandcatholicism @the-tea-and-book-nook @lions-online-library @lady-larklight

lemme know your thoughts and if you wanna be added to the tag list

[fraudulent-cheese]

You know, funny you bring that up, i actually kinda went on a rant/analysis about this in discord the other day... More centered on the kids themselves than their parents but yes, i'd argue the parents of the kids post gen 1 are at best a little neglectful or too hands off, and at worst just do not care about their child's safety whatsoever.

To get a concrete answer answer on this however, we kinda need to know exactly how the more dangerous and absurd aspects of Total Drama were considered in canon. Like. was the ending scene of world tour actually aired in canon? were all the scenes in mike's head only there for our convenience or did they actually convince this italian boy to dress up as his alters and reenact their discussions? Do the people in universe think the more dramatic scenes or harsher injuries were exaggerated for the cameras, or is the promise of a million dollars enough to sway concerns? (because let's be real here: a million dollars is a fuck ton of money. i calculated for fun what money Cameron would actually be giving in his ending and if every camper takes him up on his offer they get around 77 grand. which is crazy)

If we're talking specifically Gen 1 parents, basically every parent except Sierra's and Alejandro's gets a pass for letting their kid on TD, since it's kinda plot relevant that they were duped into thinking it would be on a luxury hotel and not. crappy summer camp except there's a middle aged guy torturing you for clout. (if you want i'll drop what i said about Ale and Sierra's parents in a seperate reblog because i had. alot to say.)

HOWEVER. I cannot give this pass to the Gens 2, 3 and (maybe) 4 contestants or their parents. Outside of the ones that didn't know (Damien, maybe Dave, unknown if Anne Maria or Ella watched more than just a couple episodes since they only talk about the singing), they really watched the "get thrown out of planes" season or god forbid the "toxic waste" season and decided "yep, auditionning this show is a great idea, actually".

Yes, it was the most popular reality show in universe at some point, but REALLY? Are you sure this is a good idea? ZOEY ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA YOU SAW THE VOLCANO FINALE

This goes double for the Pahkitew Island cast, btw. based on their audition tapes + Leonard's stated age in Ridonculous Race, they had to have had sent their tapes close enough in time to the actual filming of the season itself. Which means this was after Revenge. Like at that point auditionning for TD would only be something you'd do if you either:

desperately needed to be away from your family/get that mil

considered the more outlandish happenings to be staged in some way

have the ultimate "Nah i'd win" mindset and just think the bad shit won't happen to you because yes

In any case, their parents HAD to have let them be on the show. How. Especially for the Roti cast's parents, actually (i hc that TD's ratings started dropping after World Tour but this isn't confirmed in canon) because as established, this shit was POPULAR popular. They at least had to have heard about it, and i wouldn't understand why you wouldn't at least double check to see if the show wouldn't make your kid get life long consequences from it. Then again, maybe im overestimating what regular people know about Reality TV and all of it's possible consequences on their contestants or whatever.

So yeah. Gen 2 and Gen 3 parents are not off the hook whatsoever on this... but im not sure about Gen 4.

Listen. Listen. Hear me out. I don't know how much the reboot cast knew about the show. Idk how much teenagers care about 10+ year old reality shows, no matter how popular they got outside of youtube videos talking about the more negative sides or keeping up with the former contestants. or something. I sincerely doubt the show wouldn't have developped an Action Park-like reputation, but... people still went to Action Park when it was open. Even after people fucking died. Maybe it morphed into daring your friends to submit an audition or hoping you could get major clout out of it?

But im still giving Gen 4's parents the major side-eye. They were VERY MUCH alive and aware of the show while it was airing, Priya's parents are proof of this.

On one hand, the most recent related season to TD in canon was most likely Ridonculous Race, and from what i know it got less extreme than TD? In terms of injuries? Like the worst that happends is a broken arm and a concussion i believe. Trends get forgotten quickly. Maybe they promised it would be safer somewhere in the contract??

On the other... They were alive during the time TD presumably aired in canon. They had to have heard about some things, right? Unless Chris burried the intern deaths, the injuries, the everything, (or it was covered up as staged/it was actually staged) shit had to have come out eventually right? RIGHT??? Did no one do any double checking? Granted some of the reboot parents already seem neglectful in canon (Ripper, Chase, Scary Girl, Julia even come to mind), but... Did Damien's parents not ask about it at all? Did neither Raj or Wayne's parents double check what their kids would be doing for summer? Do their parents even know they're going on Total Drama at this point???

uh, TLDR: Something is up with the Gens 2 and up parents, but i'd argue there's something up with the contestants themselves as well.

when u think abt it a lot of td parents are shitty like lightnings dad wouldnt even pay attention to him, duncan’s dad questioned if they really loved him, heather’s parents were celebrating she was gone, sierra’s mom is neglectful of her to the point she puts her idols before her own daughter, trent’s dad doesn’t support him being into music, cody’s parents forget his bday, courtney’s parents have pushed her so hard to succeed she feels inadequate when being anything but successful.i’m p sure u got good td parents like dj’s and cameron’s moms, but like….jesus christ dude

[halowishes]

january favs!

(first recs of the year!!!!)

ships: sakuatsu (if unspecified) ft. an oikage fic

six steps to a smile

e. 18.6k. 5+1 canon compliant.

5+1 of kiyoomi’s adorable pout leading to relationship milestones. i (unfortunately) can’t remember the last time i read a fic without even a little bit of angst. i feel like i never see friends to lovers skts! i do love tension but my heart swells at moments like “i’ll give you anything you want and you don’t even have to ask”. the sweetest boys ever.

the sakusa kiyoomi drunkness scale

m. 4.3k. canon established relationship.

atsumu meets six-drink kiyoomi. chaos ensues. such a lighthearted and short read about their relationship. i loved the little details of the characters and just how well they know each other. they’re so in love and it makes me sick (i treasure these guys).

shootin’ stars & satellites

e. 20.1k. third years skts.

itachiyama and inarizaki have a volleyball camp before their graduation!! this fic was a religious experience. i can’t describe how it made me feel. hilarious, beautifully written, sexy, gentle, and oh so tender. i honestly LOVE everything about this fic. expect this on my end of the year favs.

hold on, who’s got a boyfriend now? (yea right)

t. 9.3k. haikyu hospital.

resident cardiologist atsumu has a boyfriend! the rest of the hospital tries to find out who it is by creating a betting pool!!! this was extremely silly and light. i LIVE for gossip and i imagine hospital gossip is like the michelin star of work gossip. so (if i was there) you bet your ass i’d be betting!

daybreak

t. 8.1k. mid skip.

after a break up, kiyoomi decides to hike up mount fuji with surprise guest miya atsumu! i admire the idea of the u19 camp having a group chat and reunions together :’). also kiyoomi’s family running a tea business… it is so perfect for the rich kid hc. such a sweet and refreshing fic with some introspection!!

bane of my existence, object of my desires

e. 6.6k. regency era au.

messy skts who just can’t live without each other… you know i had to have it. in true skts fashion, this story was dramatic and chaotic and horny. but i mainly read this bc i loooove bridgerton so imagining them in their fancy suits and mansions scratched an itch in my brain.

high tides and sleepless nights

e. 71.8k. msby 4 go to the beach!

atsumu teaches kiyoomi how to swim so he can enjoy the beach <3 as someone who can’t swim, i find this plot so romantic. im gagged it took kiyoomi that long to realize the feelings between them were Real. but that just meant the ANGST was divine. (along with the characterization, dialogue, and happy ending). summer skts for the win!

go slowly with me

g. 5.6k. canon compliant slice of life.

ah yes, the joys and horrors of sharing your music taste with others. when the jackals bring a speaker to their post-practice cool downs, atsumu decided to curate an effortless playlist. along the way he learns kiyoomi listens to abba and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. tooth rotting fluff. dancing in the kitchen. they are domestic.

this is how you lose the time war

m. 15k. end of the world/ sci-fi au.

when kiyoomi wakes up on the last day before time loops itself, he somehow makes his way to his ex lover’s doorstep. god. i’m not ready to really think this one over (i lowkey read it in a haze), but it’s a wonder. this skts dynamic was intense, grand, and overpowering. snuzz is truly a wizard with her words.

such a constellation was he to me

e. 11.8k. canon universe.

two words: kiyoomi tattoos. two more words: body worship. truly, what more do you need? i love reading body worship because it just reminds me how special sex can be. it’s vulnerable and open and appreciating and so human. it’s nice to read a fic that highlights that. the tattoos & lore were just a bonus :P

ishigaki island, 2025 — oikage

e. 22.4k. forced proximity exes to lovers.

iwaizumi & ushijima wedding = oikage best men. only problem is they haven’t spoken in years since they broke up. and now they’re 4th wheeling on an island getaway with their best friends. i really loved this oikawa and characterizations, some classic tropes, and (more) sun!!!

[oscar-is-wild]

guys it's conan gray season again

[triglycercule]

swapinverse posting rn,,,,, (WAKE UP UNTITLED29876011111 MY LISTENER I KNOW YOU GET NO SLEEP BUT SWAPINVERSE CRUMBS SWAPINVERSE CRUMBS PSPSPSPSPPSPSPS)

anyways currently reworking savior and godDAMN is he soooo,,,,,,, my boy i love my boy. why does he literally combine the melancholic vibe of dust and then whatever the hell killer's got going on in his lore. hes literally so sad and emo and depressed but also has a perfect amount of i-dont-care-ness and built in commands,,,,,, hes so PERFECT my vision of this modernized savior is soooo amazing,,,,, none of you will be ready trust (hyping myself up over nothing)

i think its because i'm finally starting to THINK about my character's,,,,,,, characters?????? like before they were just concepts. i think. like just IDEAS and now especially for savior i'm starting to actually analyze his character and see where things go from there,,,, its sooooo fun i love this sosososos much,,,, now let's see if this streak of analysis will carry on for the 2 i still need to finish finish (crash and vice.SER my glitchy fuckass sons)

google what is the symbolic representation for ribbons and ribbon dancing and silk acrobatics. google ANSWER ME

[gojoest]

not to be tmi about it, but once upon a time life presented me the opportunity to have a fiery romance with my favorite journalist with whom i have a 25 yr age gap and who is a dilf

[transsextual]

i think i have problems and issues

[unionizedwizard]

poisoned book investigation update: i reached the part of queen margot that deals with the poisoned book and this only made me more convinced that this is indeed. what happened. back in 2010. because 1) i know my mother well and therefore know she would kin catherine de' medici (yes yes i know. i know. what can i say. she's insane. it's a family tradition) 2) in the novel, the book was poisoned by catherine herself (she conceived and carried out both the scheme and the execution herself), and meant to kill her political enemy and son-in-law (but ended up poisoning (and killing) her own son). the exact method of course would be unsuitable for my own mother to imitate as it is the exact same method used in the name of the rose (possibly where umberto eco got the inspiration from, actually?), therefore as i mentioned earlier impossible to recreate with the kind of paper my copy of the three musketeers was printed on. but. yeah. not that i had many doubts at this point anymore but this is really. convincing evidence. psychologically speaking.

like for the. catherine de' medici kin part:

my mother always loved her as a historical figure. we did visit a lot of historical castles and museums and all when i was a kid and she always had a marked preference for 1) the renaissance era and history 2) the medici family 3) catherine de' medici specifically. she admired her cunning and force of spirit and ambition and influence. #1 girlboss supporter (she did not support the. you know. religious massacres tho. she didn't think catherine was a great figure to emulate or whatever. but she admired her nonetheless)

as i've mentioned before, my mother has always been a wannabe italian. she's especially fond of the italian renaissance and in particular florence and its history. in the novel the fact catherine de' medici is florentine is a key part of her characterization

physically there seems to be a similarity? dumas doesn't actually describe his characters' appearance much, but from the few elements we get, it seems to fit (= pale, grey(?) eyes with a cold and cunning look, short and stout but pretty, white hands (that she takes great care of), short and stout (fat?) stature in general, blonde hair, small lips, imposing presence that makes other people immediately fall in line & scares them (she was very proud of that)). it's not much but knowing her she would jump to conclusions and want to really. Be Like Her

sorry i know how this sounds i KNOW you don't have to believe me but i swear this is all true. inherited insanity and all that. the true Drow Ass Family

[summertimemusician]

*downs coffee like a shot* Before we go back to our regularly scheduled Linktober/Linktober Shadow (because I don't leave things unfinished if I can help it), I gotta get the idea of Revenant First out of my system and y'all get to suffer with me until it eventually ceases being an idea and it turns into an actual story. For some reason we talk a lot about First already being alive or already a ghost by the time the Chain meets him, but I don't think I've ever heard someone talk about him actually coming back to life and so y'all get to suffer with my insane ramblings like I'm an 1800's psychic ward patient who believes themselves to be a witch.

Can be x Reader or not idk just an idea that won't leave my mind.

Might expand on this later so Part out of I/?

Revenant First, who died for his people and in the name of his Goddess. All alone on the surface, fighting, fighting, fighting, always fighting. Just to make the land a little safer before the next hero arrives, just to contain the Imprisoned for a little while longer with likely nothing than a ordinary, common sword to his name and a slowly rusting armor.

Always giving so so so much for his people, always doing his best to protect them, though they scorned him, loathed him, didn't believe or support him, rejected him.

With a spirit so strong and lovely that a Goddess fell for him, hated herself for having to manipulate and put him through such horrid experiences just to save the many, just to turn the diamond of his soul into an unbreakable lonsdaleite blade agaisnt a mad deity.

Someone whose will would be enough to keep him going, just one more fight right? Just one more kill right? Forward, forward, ever onward, it doesn't matter if the flesh decays, if the blood drips drips drips until he is dry of it, if the liver doesn't process nutrients, if the lungs don't draw air, if the nerves feel nothing but the cold cold numbness of the winter of his final years, if the heart doesn't beat. If the armor rusts or the sword breaks. He must keep going, he must keep fighting.

To keep them safe he must have faith, faith that he can keep going, to grasp onto that one.single.thread of purpose until the day that fiery, indomitable, determined will finally burns out. Even if his Goddess may have forsaken him knowingly or unknowingly, even if his people have rejected him to the point he isn't even human anymore, even though they reviled him, even if that rejection should by all intents and purposes chained his spirit to the land or ground the jewel of his unbreakable soul into dust, he still loves them, still adores them, still wants to protect them.

No matter how long he must keep going for it. He wishes to see those he holds dear happy, though they cursed and imprisoned him once.

The Chain getting dropped into a completely empty, desolated and undeniably dead version of Sky's Hyrule, only to find the only living thing besides monster is a single man, with rusted gold armor and an old sword, a faded tunic of green with a long, crimson scarf like a bloody banner. With hair and eyes like theirs, undeniably a Link. But so very frigid, so very silent they almost didn't notice him, that they can't help but wonder just how many years he has spent there, eroding away, ruined but still kind, kind, so very gentle. A shadow of his former self, yes, but still himself, still so so so good, doing all he can until Sky's Era comes and maybe, just maybe, he can finally rest.

Or maybe not, after all, someone has to keep the land safe until the Hero after Sky comes around, no?

Just Revenant First in general.

Or maybe we give him the House in Fata Morgana treatment, the House in Fata Hylia Au if you will- *collapses from sleep deprivation*

[starchasersunseeker]

Okay so we all know both the song Betty and August {by Taylor Swift obviously} can be Jegulus coded..

So James is obviously James in this scenario

But what about Reg and Lily?

Who is Inez and who is Betty? Like of course both can be both depending on are we talking abiut canon compliant or not but who do you all prefer to think is who?

Do you prefer Inez as Reg, Betty as Lily, making it canon compliant with Jegulus having a wonderful summer but James coming back to Lily and marrying her and all of that

OR do yall prefer Inez as Lily, Betty as Reg, meaning James fucked up and left Reg to spend a summer with Lily but then coming back to Reg and spending the rest of their life's together, marrying etc?

Because I interchangeably think about this scenarios when listening to both songs