#i promise to be very silly about it once i fully understand the context

[laughs-and-rain]

threshold day is gonna be so much fun for me once ive actually watched voyager

[smallraindrops-blog]

WMFTD Weed au thoughts

So I never planned on posting this but if you are an American, you likely understand the stress we all under rn. (Especially if you are surrounded by people who... Are not considerate of others to put it politely.)

So here have a silly little au, thought some of y'all might get a laugh of out it.

Warnings: not fully thought out, not beta, just rambling, drugs, adult situations, swearing.

Okay so - get this.

For context-

Patroclus and Achilles got married super young and super broke, like after getting married in a courthouse, they went to a fast food place and ordered off the value menu and ate at a gross, sticky table.

But they didn’t care, Patroclus was tucked against Achilles, their knees pressed together.

Achilles was whispering quietly, telling Patroclus about all the places he would go once Achilles got enough money together.

‘A real honeymoon. I promise. Just you and me.’

It sounded like Achilles was promising the moon and stars to Pat, a fantasy but he smiled and played along.

Then they both went to their very underpaying jobs.

The honeymoon ended up never happening, y/n came into their lives and needed parents.

Patroclus and Achilles stepped up then life just happened and they never got around to it.

But Y/N grew up, became a world-famous boxer champion (along with some sound financial advice and stocks, he is very well off) and Achilles and Patroclus both got better jobs and life was far easier.

And they were still madly, wonderfully in love.

Y/n knew his parents never got a chance to celebrate a honeymoon. As an anniversary gift, he surprised them with a cruise and a three week stay at a country of their choice.

and so they go on their well earned honeymoon and Y/N is left to house sit for them and take care of their three dogs (Pat wanted more but Achilles managed to talk him out of it… for now.)

As a thank you, Pa made his brownies.

I hc Pat is actually a wiz in the kitchen and he had perfected this delicious brownie recipe over the years. Like it might be better than actual drugs.

What y/n didn’t know is that they have a certain neighbor that Patroclus and Achilles totally bonded over how horrible the HOA is, their dogs and how difficult it is to grow plants.

And Hypnos totally offered them some weed at one point, not really thinking they would take him up on it.

But they did ( because they never got to enjoy being a rebel due to working and parenting) and totally became besties.

Pat and Hypnos ended up making weed brownies for them to take on cruise while making normal brownies for their son

(and Pat definitely told Hypnos all about Y/N and Hypnos might have - most definitely- watched a few of Y/N’s matches and got a huge crush)

but due to a misunderstanding on Achilles’ part, he left the weed brownies for Y/N and took the normal brownies with them.

and like Y/N came over after he did his workout and normally he has a meal and protein shake ready to go but he had forgotten both things at his apartment when packing to stay at his parents.

So when he saw the brownies that Pa had made, he greedily said down two of them as he let the dogs out of the backyard.

When he went for a third, he glanced down at the tupperware, he saw a label.

‘The W Brownies.’

He knew immediately but he still called up his parents to be sure.

But there was no cell reception.

So he carefully placed the brownies away and prayed it wouldn’t be bad. ( y/n don’t care about drugs but as part of his training, he rarely drinks let alone anything else, so he has no tolerance whatsoever.)

When Patroclus realized what happened ( he knew his son would eat those brownies the moment he saw them, label be damn), he tried to reach Y/N but got no response. In desperation, Achilles emailed Hypnos.

who amazingly responded and was more than happy to go over.

The back door was unlocked which was lucky but also deeply concerning Hypnos. Bc he had seen enough horror movies to know that it wasn’t a good sign.

The dogs recognized him, whining and going over to the sofa, trying to lead him over.

“Hey are you okay?” Hypnos called out, warily going over. “I’m a friend of your parents. So don’t be scared or anything”

And somehow ended up seeing something that belonged in a goddamn renaissance painting.

y/n was sprawled out, all powerful, heavy muscles with a happy trail that led down to his boxer briefs. His hair was a mess like someone had been running their hands through it. The dark beard he had only highlighted the soft curve of his mouth.

The rest of his clothes were tossed around the room.

hypnos knew he should look away but he couldn’t.

Gods, the man looked like a real life Adonis. He was a little disappointed that y/n still had his underwear on but Hypnos could definitely see the thick outline of his cock.

like what the fuck.

He was also very high, staring at Hypnos with very red eyes. Hypnos gave him a smile, going to him and knelt down next to him.

Y/n continued to stare, his brow furrowed in confusion, lips parted slightly. Hypnos repeated what he said earlier but it didn’t seem to help.

“Oh. You are like super greened out right now.”

Y/n merely blinked at him and there was something so vulnerable about his expression that Hypnos reached out and began petting his hair.

It was surprisingly soft and y/n sighed heavily, like Hypnos’s touch all he wanted.

He pushed his head into Hypnos’ touch. His expressions was sleepy as he stared up at Hypnos with worshipful eyes. One of his hands reached up brushing along his curls.

”Wow- a fairy. A real fairy” He stated quietly. In awe. His voice was a low rumble that went right to Hypnos’s core. “So pretty.”

hypnos gave a laugh and y/n smiled goofily. It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was but Hypnos liked how it looked on this man.

”I might owe you an apology. I have been giving your very sweet parents weed.” Hypnos confessed.

y/n blinks, his brain slowly processing what hypnos was saying then his expression turned scandalized.

“My parents don't do weed. They are homeowners. They have - have flowerbeds and shit.” He loudly whispered to Hypnos who was just trying not to laugh.

“A fairy gave my parents weed.” Y/n closed his eyes then began to laugh quietly. His smile returned. “What the fuck, man?”

Hypnos couldn’t help it and laughed with him. He was still petting Y/n’s hair but he didn’t seem to mind.

”I am going to get you something to drink, okay?” Hypnos told him and y/n blinked, his smile still lingering.

”You are very pretty. And nice.” Y/n informed him, reaching up to tuck a curl behind Hypnos’ ear, his thumb brushing softly against Hypnos’ cheek “Do you want a boyfriend?”

Hypnos couldn’t believe he was blushing by getting hit on by someone so high they could kiss the moon.

Or that it was kinda working.

”Oh definitely.” Hypnos said, not wanting to upset him. And honestly if Y/n was this sweet when sober, Hypnos probably wouldn’t mind having him around. The hot bod didn’t hurt either. “But let me get that drink first.”

“Old fashion please.”

”you are getting water.”

”okay. you’re so pretty.”

So Hypnos sent a quick email back to Achilles and told him he was taking care of it. their son was fine, just really really really high and to relax and enjoy their vacation. Got Y/n water and power aid and put on relaxing nature documentaries.

y/n would either stare at the whales or at him in turn, both with the same gentle awe.

His fingers gently brush Hypnos curls’ occasionally. He would try all kinds of pick up lines, beaming like a schoolboy with a big crush when Hypnos laughed. And promising to take him to fancy places hypnos never heard of.

“Do fairies like Wagyu beef? Or sushi?”

”This one does.”

Eventually Y/N passed out and Hypnos tossed a blanket over him, and tried to stay awake, sending another email to y/n’s parents to update them and taking care of the doggos, but ended up falling asleep in the armchair across from Y/N.

and…

Y/N wakes up feeling like roadkill. He needed to piss, maybe puke and his mouth felt dry. His eyes hurt. He wanted to just find a dark hole and never leave.

And there was a dog licking at his fingers, whining softly.

Grumbling he sat up, a hand on his head because it genuinely felt like his head might fall off.

Shit, how much weed have his parents been doing?

Then he saw Hypnos. All curled up in a too big hoodie (although Y/N could have sworn it looked like a cloak last night) and white curls spilling everywhere, pale in the morning light.

He was sleeping heavily, thick white lashes fanned against his cheeks. A sleep mask had slipped down, hanging around his neck.

He was beautiful.

He had thought Hypnos was a dream. He was desperately trying to remember who or where Hypnos came from. He couldn’t remember a single word he might have said last night.

Did… did he hired a hooker? Did he bring a hooker into his parents’ house?

Only Hypnos was fully dressed and Y/N’s body felt far too tense if he did have sex so probably not.

The dogs whined again.

Y/N made himself get up, let the dogs out, went to the bathroom and nearly drowned himself from drinking water from the sink.

When he saw Hypnos, y/n was back to his grumpy, scowling self. He and Hypnos got a little snippy with each other and y/n kicked him out.

then feels absolutely guilty when he finally got on a call with his parents and they told him that they asked Hypnos to help.

To apologize to Hypnos, he goes over to his house with pizza and the rest of the weed brownies. Hypnos accepted, teasing Y/N about everything.

Y/n couldn't remember the last time he got so flustered, hiding his face with a hand in embarrassment as Hypnos laughed.

Hypnos had a very nice laugh.

They became friends of sort after that.

(And there was growing sexual tension between them.)

HOA tried to be a pain in the ass about everything and now Y/N has to deal with that nightmare, and Hypnos step in, way more used to dealing with them and they bond over it.

maybe they didn’t need to stand so close together but they were just having a conversation.

And the dogs love hypnos and Pa had told Y/N it will make the dogs happy to see Hypnos so Y/N would stop by daily.

For the dogs of course.

And Hypnos would open the door dressed only in a big shirt, revealing his long legs or in a thin robe, with the belt loosely tied up.

Y/n didn’t know which one was more tempting.

Or like whenever Y/n was doing yard work, shirtless and in low swung shorts, Hypnos was definitely watching, his nose almost pressed into his window, looking very respectfully.

Unlike all those other housewives who were also peering at him.

and there were several housewives who made it a point to just ‘stop by and check in’, their walks slowing down in front of Y/N’s house and Hypnos was torn between jealousy and wanting to laugh at Y/N’s pained expression whenever he heard his name called out by one of the ladies.

Y/n offered to grill some food for Hypnos one night and Hypnos came over and they ended up flirting like teenagers and the night ended with them heavily making out on the couch, grinding against each other and giving hickies.

it went like that for a few days then Hypnos offered up an edible, promising it won’t be like last time. Y/n eyed it doubtfully but took some.

And they end up having very slow, enjoyable fun in bed. ( y/n is a bit type-A when it comes to his training and won’t do weed often. He would however very much enjoy a giggly and relaxed Hypnos, especially with how responsive he can be)

And they just end talking together for hours, pausing to come together again, before falling asleep together.

By the time y/n’s parents returned, y/n got super high and came back with a weed dealer fairy for a boyfriend.

[mittensmorgul]

As Above, So Below

I’m still trying to pinpoint exactly why the focus on “heaven is fixed and actually a paradise now!” is just so deeply unsatisfying to me. And I think I need to preface this with a bit of backstory about me, because I think that gives the rest of this essay some relevant context.

I know this isn’t relevant to my main point here, but this is a metatextual and thematically identical example of the exact thing I’m gonna lay out, because context is always helpful. So please forgive this seemingly irrelevant detour, because I promise it will be relevant by the end.

(plus, would it really be an Essay By Mittens™ without at least one baffling tangent? no, it would not!)

Tangent time!

I think everyone that follows me knows how skeptical I was... or should I say how WARY I was of the way Eileen was returned to the narrative this season. We were warned in the PREVIOUS EPISODE how much Chuck was attempting to interfere in their lives. I was accused of some very nasty things, of hating the ship, or hating the character of Eileen, or of hating Sam and not wanting them to be happy. No amount of pointing at obvious warning signs in the text, no amount of yelling about Sam’s God Wound or the absolute klaxon warning that the wound had become “quiet” and his Chuck-O-Vision Nightmares had apparently stopped seemed to matter. I was declared “wrong” and told to shut up.

And then 15.09 happened, and basically everything I’d been wary of was shown to be what actually happened, but there were still unresolved issues. Eileen doubted her own feelings and walked away. She doubted what was actually real. And at the time, I said many times that I would be thrilled to see those issues resolved by the end of the season, and for her to truly know that what she’d felt growing between her and Sam was real. And by the end of the season, despite my personal horror at her previous situation (and having that personal horror compounded by the fandom literally gaslighting me and attempting to bully me into ignoring this basic actual plot detail of this specific growth process which... in the context of what my personal objection was to accepting her return at face value in the first place having been personal trauma associated with gaslighting and manipulation...) by the time 15.18 aired, I was 100% convinced that Sam and Eileen had fully chosen each other, and felt the traumatic pain Sam suffered during that text conversation with her during the snap. She NEEDED to come back, because she had been set up to be part of Sam’s Win. They were clearly each other’s future.

The show literally put in all the work to make even *me* feel this to be True and Right and Good. And then after that point we never even hear Eileen’s name again. We never were told that she was even returned at the end of 15.19. Sam, who had been so entirely devastated by her disappearance in the previous episode that he couldn’t even process it was apparently hit with an amnesia hammer and just... never even thought about her again through a long greyscale life with a blurry baby Dean factory vaguely in the background of a single scene of his life. I can’t credit or justify how after an entire year invested in making us all truly care about Sam and Eileen and the happiness they found in each other if only the cosmos would allow them to choose each other in the end would just... erase all of that in the series finale.

Which brings me to the second tangent, which is specifically about *me,* and how I feel about the cosmic order in the television show Supernatural. Because I feel a lot about it. Probably more than most people ever did. And this is also important to understanding the main underlying point I need to make here.

Something I’ve been most looking forward to, for YEARS, about Supernatural eventually ending someday was writing a book, or a thesis, or even just organizing and compiling all my observations into a cohesive narrative specifically about the cosmology of the Supernatural universe. I’ve been cobbling together my observations and realizations about the nature of heaven, hell, purgatory, the empty, the alternate universes we’ve seen, and yes, even the cosmic function of the mundane level of the story as told by events that transpired on Earth. So of everyone watching this dumb show for the last 15 years, I don’t actually know anyone who cared more that I did about finding a satisfactory resolution and transformation of every plane of existence-- the mortal world AND the “afterlife realms” we’ve experienced on this show. And in the wake of the finale, I feel cheated out of that. Because in the end, it wasn’t about the triumph of free will and a flip of the script, it was just more of the same.

And now that I have those two preliminaries out of the way, I’ll finally get to the point. :’D

(hooray, it didn’t even take 1k words to get there for once!)

The “main stage” of Supernatural has always been Earth. It’s always been “Humanity.” At the very start, we meet two men whose lives had always been dictated to them by higher powers. At first, that “higher power” was their father who raised them in his vengeance mission, who trained them to hunt the supernatural. It was the inciting incident of the entire series, after all, their realization that forces outside of their control had irrevocably altered the course of their lives. It had forever torn down what they’d trusted in family, in personal safety, and would become something they couldn’t outrun or fight back against for long before another wave of cosmic discord would settle over them once more.

We watched this story play out in ever increasing spheres of cosmic significance, until Gabriel laid it out on the table for them in the simplest possible terms (in 5.08).

GABRIEL: You do not know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate. SAM: What are you talking about? GABRIEL: You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other. DEAN: What the hell are you saying? GABRIEL: Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always. A long pause. SAM and DEAN look down, then at each other. DEAN: No. That's not gonna happen. GABRIEL: I'm sorry. But it is. GABRIEL sighs. GABRIEL: Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be. ***

And isn’t that all even 1000x more painfully ironic that it all still happened even 10 years later? It was always going to end with them. And lol, “I wish this were a TV show” because if it was then it wouldn’t have to end bloody.

But this… was a Major Acknowledgement that the meta level of this story was consistent, and was telling us something important. It demonstrated that the Cosmic Structure Itself was the cause for Sam and Dean���s “destiny” in this story. But that’s not what the point of this story has ever been.

Nobody (including me, who is literally obsessed with this aspect of the story) has ever invested themselves in the narrative of Supernatural because they cared about the fate of the cosmic order over and above the fate of the characters who had committed to overthrowing it all, to “tearing up the pages” and writing their own destinies. I mean, we became invested because Sam, Dean, and Cas as characters took us by the hand and invited us to come along with them as they battled against fate for the good of EARTH and HUMANITY.

And certainly, Heaven being a horrific sort of eternal replay of the “highlights” of individual souls greatest hits, where free will didn’t apply as everyone was just boxed away into their individual holodecks to serve as some sort of giant Heaven Battery powering the furtherance of this narrative, this “cosmic order” that had become so powerful it dictated the events and manipulated the lives of people who still existed in the ostensible realm of free will and human life on Earth… that couldn’t stand in the end. But what the narrative (and people I’ve seen attempting to justify the finale as narratively sensible) seems to have forgotten was that all of that was Chuck’s construct to begin with. That without Chuck holding his kingdom in Heaven together, the walls of all those soul cubicles ceased to even be relevant.

After spending their entire lives to this point constantly fighting their way to the absolute pinnacle of the As Above, So Below narrative and pulling the plug on the original creator himself, Humanity should’ve triumphed. And I’d argue that it DID, through Jack restoring the missing essential “humanity” to the divine condition. And, silly me, I thought they’d achieved the promise of “paradise” heralded by Jack’s birth at last, and truly “flipped the entire script of the narrative.”

Ever since they thwarted the original apocalypse, I had hope that they would continue to achieve the same result right up the ladder. Metatron trying to fill the role of Chuck Junior hit his own narrative wall in TFW, while Dean’s battle with the Mark of Cain, and Cain telling him he was “living my life in reverse” and would succumb to destiny by killing his loved ones in the “reverse order” to Cain’s own path to downfall cemented this for me. Dean not only failed to kill any of his loved ones (you didn’t kill your own brother. why?), he SAVED them. He didn’t fulfil the prophecy in reverse, he subverted it. He UNMADE it.

Perhaps I was thinking on too grand a scale, that the ultimate inversion wouldn’t be “God is overthrown and replaced by more of the same,” but “God is overthrown and the entire order of the universe is restructured from the bottom up rather than the top down.

I’d hoped against hope that the conclusion of the narrative would be “As below, so above,” with the fundamental power of human love becoming the new foundation of the cosmic order. It never even occurred to me that “taking back the narrative to rewrite it for ourselves” was not the ultimate goal of Team Free Will, or the ultimate expression of their biggest win.

This whole “well heaven really needed to be rebuilt, there was still work to be done!” seems�� irrelevant to me if they’d truly won free of the cosmic narrative. The entire structure of the universe-- including Heaven and Hell-- should’ve defaulted to the paradise state that Jack was literally born to bring to fruition. Wasn’t that the point of his entire role in the story, ultimately?

And if that wasn’t the case in the end, why did we never learn the fate of Hell? Was it just… irrelevant and unchanged after this? Or just… abandoned as a concept entirely? It’s just strange to me to put such a focus on heaven being the sole sphere of import in the end that it undercuts the essential humanity of the narrative for me.

The story itself had kept Heaven on a back burner for years, only occasionally mentioning that the structure of the place was falling further and further into disrepair with a dwindling force of angels struggling to keep the walls in place at all, that it seems like it could’ve been an afterthought at the end of the series rather than a focus so large it required the death of both main characters to make sure we all understood that Heaven Had Changed Now. Because TFW had never been fighting to make Heaven right. They’d been fighting to save the world itself, for humanity to all have a chance to live their lives as their own.

And we didn’t need to see that in the final hope they might get their own lives on Earth to explore. In the end, the fundamental narrative that Life On Earth was dictated by the cosmic structure of creation was never fully subverted. And for me, that’s the main reason I just… can’t accept the finale. It wasn’t a victory of free will and humanity, in the end it was just more of the same.

I appreciate the attempts to take the essential bones of the story we did get and apply a different polish to the surface of the skeleton, but to me it still feels like we’re looking at completely different beasts in the end. Like… to me this was as jarring a revelation as those drawing of modern animals reimagined as dinosaurs entirely based on their skeletons. Like, all along the narrative told me I was looking at a swan. They told me this skeleton they’re building out from is definitely a swan, without a doubt.  I know what a swan looks like-- a graceful feather-covered bird with magnificent wings. I trusted that in the end it would be at least remotely swan-looking. And then the finale ended up looking like this

and I just don’t even know where everything went so wrong. Or maybe all along I just assumed they actually knew what a swan looked like, but weren’t sure they could actually pull it off and settled for whatever the heck this is instead. Either way, I’m actually kinda grateful to the finale for being so entirely disappointing on every level, because otherwise I probably would’ve tried to adopt the monstrosity of it anyway. And I’m really, really glad I don’t have to.

[anboringday]

A Morning With Lenny | Part 2

Summary: After a long, hot night of passion, Lenny and the woman he loves spend the following morning sleeping in...and things get heated again.

Pairing: Lenny Summers x f!Reader/OC

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit/NSFW

Tags: Smut, lots of oral, foreplay, dirty talk, face humping, fluffy feelings sprinkled in, doing the usual kinky stuff with the cutest cowboy outlaw ever

Note: Being relatively new to the rdr2 fandom, I wrote this for myself because there just wasn’t enough Lenny fics out there and I HAD to change that. I love him so much and I hope you guys enjoy this! 

Read on ao3                                                                            

Part 1| Part 2

I woke the same way I’d fallen asleep, cuddled up to Lenny’s warm, gloriously nude body, his arm draped over me. His hazel eyes were glued to the pages of a book. My all-time favorite romance book!

“Lenny!” I snatched the novel away from him. “That’s mine!”

“Hey!” He tried to grab it back, but I rolled to the other side of the bed. “I was reading that, you know. It was getting good too, they were about to kiss—”

“Really now?” Giggling, I stretched my arms over my head. Through the sheer, linen window curtains, the gray dawn streaked the sky. “But you’re an intellectual, the harshest critic of the written word I know. I thought silly love stories were beneath you.”

“Nah, that ain’t true. Not all literature needs to be a thought-provoking masterpiece. Sometimes it’s all about the way it makes you feel, if you can relate to the context, and whatnot. Honestly though, I was just reading it ‘cause I knew you did. Can we…” He paused, a rush of red stained his cheeks. So cute. “C-can we read it together? From the beginning?”

“Yes!” Warmth flowed through me at the proposition. I handed Lenny the book and snuggled against him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, my head propped on his hard chest. “Are you going to read to me, Mr. Summers?”

“Sure. Anything for you.” He clasped my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm before opening the book, raising it to an angle suitable for the both of us to easily view the pages.

Lenny began reading aloud, his soft-spoken voice cultured, smooth, the long vowels of his words was damn near mesmerizing, sensual as sweet melted chocolate. Playing with the ends of his thick, curled locks, I drank in the beauty of his darkly stubbled face as I listened. His chest rose and fell with every breath, the crisp hair against my cheek tickled. I ran my palm down the rigid planes of his stomach, gently caressing the well-exercised muscles. His lean body was a work of art designed purely for female pleasure, and I enjoyed every moment of touching him.  

We remained connected throughout the morning, his fingers threading through my hair soothingly as he spoke such lovely sounding words. I yawned, closing my eyes, my body lax in his embrace. Through the haze of sleep, I felt his weight and heat come down on me, his full lips brushed over my cheek.

“Hey,” Lenny said. “Dozing off on me already?” His fingers brushed over my sides, tickling me.

“Lenny!” I squirmed and threw my arms around him, burying my grinning face against his shoulder. “Stop that!”

His sensuous mouth twitched with amusement. “Sorry, it’s just so tempting. You’re so ticklish, it’s cute.”

“Shut up.” I pecked the tip of his nose. “Can’t we sleep in today?”

“I wanted to take you into town, catch a show, browse some of the stores, have a nice dinner at the saloon…” He planted a quick kiss on my lips. “But I reckon that can wait if you rather stay here. A day of rest and relaxation with my favorite lady sounds like a mighty fine idea to me.”

“I’m your only lady,” I corrected, raising my hand in a proud display of the platinum promise ring he gave me.

“The one and only. Since the day we met, you were all I ever wanted. All I could think about. All I could see. It’s always been you—my everything.” He caught my hand with his, our fingers intertwined. “Sometimes I look at you and wonder how I got so damn lucky.”

My heart thumped with a tender ache in my chest. Lenny could say such sweet things, wonderful things.

“We can’t go into town,” I said. “What if someone recognizes you from Blackwater? I just got you back. I won’t lose you again.”

His amber gaze drifted over my face, searching. “Running with gang kept me away from you for a long time. We lost everything in Blackwater, and I got so caught up in Dutch’s blood feud with the O’Driscolls—lying, cheatin’, and robbin’ fools from Valentine up to Saint Denis, trying to get the crew back on their feet…I wish I came back to you sooner.” Sighing deeply, he grew silent.

“You’re here now.” I stroked his cheek. “That’s what matters.”

“Maybe so. My dad used to say dwelling on the past is something like beating on a dead horse, ain’t no good ever come from it.”

“Your father was a smart man.”

“Sure was. An educated negro like him, good and kind, ain’t long for this world. It was only a matter of time.” His eyes glittered, wet with a deep-rooted pain for a split-second before he blinked it away.

My heart clenched. My poor, sweet Leonard…

He had suffered so much tragedy throughout the course of his life. Most of the time, he seemed unfazed, strong despite the pain lingering in his heart. But I knew better. He lived in a world that didn’t want him, didn’t accept him. His color didn’t suit their fancy and the scars of rejection ran deep, the hurt and loss probably ate at his soul on the daily. Wounds like that will never fully heal, but there were ways to lessen the sting.

“Lenny Summers,” I cupped his chin. “You’re gonna stop thinking those bad, silly thoughts right this instant. Look at me.”

He complied. Our eyes locked.

“You’re a good man,” my voice were clear, and distinct, without a shred of doubt. “Do you understand me? You are good. Perfect. You have every right to be here, to live freely, to laugh, to love—no matter what anyone says, no matter what they do—you’re a goddamn human being and that’s the end of it. You’re important. And I love the hell outta you. I always will.”

Blush deepening, muscles tensed, his mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, visibly struggling to find words. He was speechless, reeling from my praise. His shaken reaction was probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

“Say something,” I urged softly, brushing over his cheek with the backs of my fingers.

Lenny took my hand and held it to his chest, his heart thumping, racing. He was apprehensive and impassioned. But why? What was he thinking?

Finally regaining his composure, he asked, “Do you feel that?”

“Yes.” The speedy rhythm of his heart didn’t let up.

“This is what you do to me. You have power over me, a hold—it’s like a snare I can’t escape, like a spell I can’t break.” He chuckled dryly, bitterly. “I never felt weak a day in my life until I met you.”

“You’ve been a wanted man for a long time, struggling to survive, fighting an endless war with the world around you. But you don’t have to be on the defensive with me. It’s okay to let your guard down. There’s more to life than being an outlaw.”

His eyes brightened. “Oh yeah, of course. There’s strong whiskey, fine music, good books, an oiled gun, gold nuggets and silver bullets.”

“Lenny…”

“But regardless of all that, you’re the best part.” Sweetly, he nuzzled my nose.

I giggled. “Well now, aren’t you charming?”

“Ain’t that the reason you love me?”

“One of the many.”

His full lips curved into a slow, breathtaking smile, dazzling against his deep brown skin. Sunlight dappled over his face, illuminating that strong, flawless jawline of his. Goodness, he was so very good looking, impossible to resist, and my love for him intensified by the day. I was helplessly addicted to Lenny Summers, the hours we spent together felt like minutes. I could never get enough.

My cheeks heated. “God, how do you manage to turn from cute to sexy in a matter of seconds?”

He smirked. “It’s a gift, part of my charm.” His hand touched my waist, sliding downward along my thigh. A curse hissed out between his teeth once he reached my lace garter belt. “You’re still wearing those?”

“You didn’t take them off me last night.”

“I don’t plan to.” Lenny rose to his knees, hovering over my scantily clad body, eyes smoldering as he stared down at me. “Keep them on. You look so, so, so pretty just like that.”

“Don’t you mean fuckable?”

“Hey, language!” He mocked me with a lopsided smile. “That’s no way for a lady to speak.”

“Oh, forgive me, Mr. Summers,” I said, my tone laced with sarcasm. “For a lying, thieving outlaw, you’re quite the prude.”

His nose wrinkled in protest. “Me? A prude? No, I’m more of a hopeless romantic with a love for dialect and vocabulary.” He drew close, his tongue traced the shell of my ear. My breath caught in my chest. “If you say things—the right things—you can put anyone in the mood.”

I shivered, hot and bothered, a heated ache between my legs. It wasn’t particularly the context of Lenny’s words that turned me on, but the sound…the huskiness in his voice, the way he dragged the vowels, sensual and rich with passion. His voice was smooth as velvet, unbearably sexy in my ear, sending vibrations deep into the core of my body.

He could talk any woman out of her clothes and into his bed without much effort. Not that he would though, he was much too tenderhearted, too sympathetic to be a womanizer.

He was truly one of a kind. And all mine, by some miracle.

A distinct warmth flooding my core, I shoved my hands into his hair and kissed him. I loved how soft his lips felt against mine. His arms enveloped me as he kissed me back, his tongue glided over mine with hot, savory licks that left me breathless and yearning for more. I could only imagine how amazing that firm mouth of his would feel in other places…

I moaned, feeling the prod of his impressive erection against my thigh. I wrapped my fingers around him, and he bucked his hips on contact, thrusting into my hand.

He groaned into my mouth, still ravaging my lips. The scent of our lust was heavy in the air, the heavy weight of his tense, magnificent body pinning me down. He was hard as stone, and hot. I stroked him from root to tip, my palm slick with precum.

“Ah, damn…” he uttered between kisses, lazily fucking my hand. “That feels good.”

“It feels better inside me,” I murmured against his lips.

He broke the kiss, parting me with his finger. “Not yet. You ain’t ready for me.”

With a feeble sound of protest, I buried my face in his neck.

“Hey, no pouting,” he clasped my chin, forcing me to look into his beautiful hazel eyes. His voice softened. “You’re so tight. I’ll bruise you if we don’t take it slow, okay?”

My gaze glued to his fiercely handsome face, an abrupt gratitude filled my soul. “I love you.”

He beamed, kissing my lips one last time before his tongue seared a path down my neck to my breast. Once he caught my nipple between his teeth, I flinched.

Lenny quirked a brow. “You’re sensitive.”

“I still haven’t recovered from last night,” I said.

“Relax, Sugar. I’ll be gentle.”

I blinked, perplexed by the endearment, although I adored how sweet it sounded from his lips. “Sugar?”

He uttered a soft assent, and returned his attention to my breasts, wrapping his mouth around my nipple, sucking lightly. His finger circled the other, the tantalizing caress brought a mist of perspiration to my skin. His tongue moved slow, exquisitely tender over my swollen flesh, soothing like a healing balm. Relishing the sensation, I closed my eyes.

I combed my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Is there anything you can’t do with that tongue of yours?”

Lenny flashed a wicked smile. “That sounds like a challenge.” His palms slipped under my hips, he yanked me to the edge of the bed, and dipped low. I slapped a hand over my mouth, smothering a gasp as his tongue fluttered over my clit. Two of his fingers inched inside me and I clenched eagerly around him, my leg draped over his shoulder. Heat swept over me, my heart slammed erratically in my chest.

The delicate rhythm of his stroking, curving fingers was wonderful, but it was his mouth that drove me crazy. The tip of his tongue lapped at my throbbing clit tirelessly…relentlessly. My hips churned, a violent shiver moved through me. He knew my body so well, exactly how to please me, everywhere he touched left a blazing trail of warmth behind.

I bit back a cry at the sweltering heat and lash of his tongue, my core convulsing with every tender lick. Dizzy, drugged and near mindless with sensation, my hands ached for his touch, gliding over his sweat-damp skin, tugging at his hair. He captured my palm with his free hand, our fingers laced together.

“Yes, Lenny, like that,” I urged. “Make me come.”

And he did, with the soft suction of his lips and measured thrusts. I shuddered, tingling, pleasure pulsated through me. Lenny didn’t stop. His tongue continued to work my clit as I rode his fingers shamelessly, my limbs trembling, my climax rolling on and on. I was melting, drowning in sensation. Tears stung my eyes, the walls that kept my emotions at bay breaking at the seams. Swept away by the ongoing waves of ecstasy, I wept silently.

Licking his lips, Lenny rose, lifting my sweaty, limp body along with him. His gaze searched my face with concern. “You okay?” I heard his question just barely past the blood rushing in my ears.

I managed a nod. Carefully, he set me down on the center of the bed, my head hit the pillow. He crawled in beside me, wiping the tears from my cheeks with a light sweep of his knuckles. “Was it too much?”

“No.” Pleasantly aching, I sighed. “You were perfect.”

His eyes studied me for a few beats. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Dazed from the toe-curling, spectacular climax he gave me, I shut my heavy eyelids for a moment. “It’s your turn now.”

“We have all the time in the world to make love. Why don’t you get some rest?”

My gut kicked. I forced myself up to face him. “No, we need an equal exchange. I don’t want you to feel used—”

He pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me. “I don’t feel used. That ain’t what this is. It’s just…I don’t wanna push you—”

I swatted his hand away. “Well, I’m not going to sleep until you come.”

His brows rose. “Okay, fair enough. I got an idea.” He shifted to his knees, the blunt tip of his throbbing cock nudged my lips. With a toothy, iconic grin smeared across his face, he requested sweetly, “Lubrication please?”

I gladly drew him in until he hit the back of my throat and was rewarded with a sultry burst of more precum. A pleased murmur escaped me as I savored the taste. He swelled, growing thicker and larger under the flat of my tongue. His balls were big, heavy, a bold display of potent virility. I played with them, rolling the weighty pair in my hand, feeling them tighten.

My eyes were riveted to Lenny as he tipped his head back, muscles rigid and breathing ragged. A deep groan of delicious agony rumbled in his chest. “Goddamn, your mouth…fuck.”

Lenny was the most calm tempered, well-composed man I knew. Watching him unravel like this, face flushed with lust, cursing, the pleasure threatening his control—it was so very satisfying. And sexy.

He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. “Okay, I-I reckon…that’s good enough.” He pulled out, altering his position, his knees came down at my sides.

I stared at him quizzically as he knelt over me, his slobber-coated cock stood erect above my heart. “What are you doing?”

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Since the day I laid eyes on you.” He cupped my breasts in his hands, kneading them, rolling my nipples into tight points between his forefingers and thumb.

I whimpered, arching into his hand, unbearably sensitive. His rigid length slid between the valley of my breasts, and I gasped, squirming. Why not use my mouth for pleasure instead? “Lenny—”

“I need this.” His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire as he began moving his hips, his big cock gliding between the softness of my chest. “I love you.”

The tender words rolled off his tongue with a quiet, yet passionate intensity. A bubbly sensation struck my heart. “Feels that nice, huh?”

A wry smile pulled at his lips. “I might have an unhealthy obsession with…you know.” He smacked my breasts playfully. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me, handsome.”

His blunt crown brushed my mouth with every stroke. I kept my lips puckered, kissing the tip, loving the unique taste. The rhythmic slap of his balls against my tits had my clit aching for attention once again, but I didn’t care. Right now, nothing in the world mattered more than satisfying him. I wanted to do this for him, he deserved it for being so good to me.

The arousing sight of his sharply sculpted abdomen and lean, pumping hips was enthralling, his sweaty, beautiful brown skin shined and glistened like priceless jewels beneath the light. He was stripped bare to the primal desire where only the race to climax mattered and still, I was spellbound by his beauty. Swooning. He was divine. Heavenly. Fitting of worship.

“I’m close,” Lenny trembled, his voice was a guttural rasp.

“Give it to me.” Grasping his straining thighs, I propped myself up on my elbows and opened my mouth.

I took him in, hungrily sucking his solid length, my cheeks hollowed with the strength of my all-consuming need to pleasure him. He gripped my hair, frantically thrusting—punishing my throat with his big cock. My eyes stung and my lungs burned, but I was too turned on to give a hell. The sounds he made and the loving praises that slipped from his lips made it all worth the effort.

He emptied himself into my greedy mouth, the first spurt of his load so thick, it was a hassle to swallow. His entire body shuddered as I eagerly drained him of everything he had.

I licked him clean afterward. He curled up next to me, pressing tiny, appreciative kisses to my shoulders and neck. “I’m gonna need you to do that more often,” he uttered, and then added sweetly, softly, “Please.”

The vivid blush on his cheeks warmed my heart. “Of course I will, but first, I’m going to need some real food in my tummy.” My stomach rumbled. “As scrumptious as you may be, I can’t live off you alone, Lenny.”

“Your wish is my command, Sugar.” He pulled away and reached for his satchel on the nightstand. “Luckily for you, the last stagecoach I robbed had all kinds of goodies—”

I clutched his stubbled chin, drawing him back in. “Forget that canned slop. Wouldn’t you prefer a homecooked meal?”

“Cook?” His brows scrunched up. “Uh…I’m not—I can’t—”

“Sure you can. I’ll teach you. We can whip something up in the kitchen together.” I cupped the side of his cheek, looking into his eyes. “As long as we have each other, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

His gaze sparkled, the golden flecks wildly radiant and alluring as always.

[rainbat]

SCENE: Tyrus on a bench, TJ has just revealed his name is Theodore Jagger, the mood is set, the fans are happy, set: 

“Is there anything else you want to know?” TJ asked, holding his breath at the end of the sentence. His fingers twitched as he inched toward Cyrus’ outstretched hand, still unsure of if he had read the situation correctly. Cyrus caught the movement, his eyes dropping down to TJ’s fingers. He faltered slightly, watching Cyrus' eye’s flicker back up.

“Is there anything else you wanna tell me?” Cyrus replied, smiling slightly.

TJ swallowed, hard, “Yeah,” there was. There was a lot he wanted to tell him. He rubbed his palm against his pants. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” He repeated back.

Cyrus smiled, to TJ’s slight relief. “Yes,” he breathed, eyes locked with TJs. And he knew. They were on the same page, he was there with him. TJ looked down and pushed his hand forward, his fingers wrapping around Cyrus’ hand almost immediately. Their fingers interlocked like two puzzle pieces sliding back together, as if they had only been apart for a moment. Cyrus’ hand was warm and familiar, he knew he should have done this months ago. The moment of truth, he looked back up at the boy, who was smiling at him. He let himself exhale, and Cyrus did too.

And what now? They were sitting on a bench, in the very public backyard of Andi’s grandmother’s house, with a party of kids running around them. Thankfully, most people had wandered back inside due to the temperature, or been picked up due to the time, but TJ was still aware.

“It’s okay,” Cyrus squeezed his hand, as if reading his mind. TJ smiled back, squeezing and then letting go, their fingers brushing together. TJ pulled himself forward a little, closing most of the space between them and putting his arm up on the top of the bench.

TJ smiled down at him. “So what did you want to tell me? He teased. Cyrus smiled, bumping his shoulder with his own. “Hey! I’m serious, I don’t pick up on context clues very well.”

“I gathered that over the last few months,” Cyrus replied. “You’re joking this time though, right?” He grew a little more serious.

TJ shrugged. He moved his fingers to fiddle with the popped collar of Cyrus’ jacket.

“That tickles,” Cyrus protested, but didn’t attempt to stop him.

“Mmm,” TJ replied, zoning on Cyrus’ lips, his finger’s fiddling with the collar. “You held my hand,” TJ stated.

“You held my hand,” Cyrus corrected, before adding, “I accepted the hand hold.”

“You did,” TJ confirmed. “Which means,” he trailed off. Cyrus rose his eyebrows, waiting for a response. “You like me?” He tried to say it with confidence, but his voice faltered slightly. There had been months of build up in his mind over this moment, over any moment he spent with Cyrus, he just never imagined a setting so perfect, or, set up.

“Of course I like you,” Cyrus replied softly, holding up the hand that had been in TJ’s moments before.

TJ dipped his head slightly, flicking Cyrus’ collar. “It’s just hard to believe,” he admitted. “I haven’t told anyone.” Cyrus nodded softly. “Have you?”

“Just Andi and Buffy, but they kinda worked it out on their own. I think I’ve been a little obvious,” he smiled. “Well, and Jonah knows I’m gay,” TJ’s hand faltered on Cyrus’ collar, he couldn’t attempt to conceal his surprise at Cyrus dropping that so casually, when he couldn’t even say the word to himself. Cyrus carried on, “But not about my crush, he’s not the best at deducing,” Cyrus chuckled to himself before noticing TJ’s look. “What?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” he stopped, before clarifying, “anything.”

“That’s okay,” Cyrus gave him a reassuring smile. “I kind of figured: the whole Kira thing.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” TJ blurted.

“It fine,” Cyrus promised. “We’re here now, right?”

TJ nodded. “And what’s here, exactly?” He was fiddling with the collar again.

“Well I like you,” Cyrus started. TJ blinked at him. “And,” he continued. TJ looked at him expectantly. “And you,” he led.

“And I like you,” TJ caught on, catching his eyes and smiling. “But I haven’t,” he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Cyrus brought out the best in him, he really did, but this part of him was a secret, completely. He didn’t know how to just give that up, he didn’t know if he could. Yet.

Cyrus nodded, understanding as always. “I haven’t told my parent’s yet,” he admitted. “Any of the four!” TJ laughed at that. “We have the whole summer,” Cyrus offered. “And past that if that’s not enough time.” How did TJ get so damn lucky? Cyrus ducked under TJ’s fingers, pulling himself up from the bench. He offered a hand to TJ, who took it on his way up. They interlocked fingers for a moment, squeezing once again before letting go.

“And when that time comes,” TJ led, walking with Cyrus toward the back doors of the house. “When I can tell people, what would we tell them?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Cyrus replied. TJ grabbed him by the elbow, stopping him and turning to face him.

“Cyrus,” TJ began. He exhaled a shaky breath, rehearsing the word in his mind. “When the time comes,” he closed his eyes for a second, “When the time comes, can I tell people you’re my boyfriend?” It was there, out in the open, he couldn’t take it back. Nor would he ever dream of doing so, seeing Cyrus’ face light up so completely after hearing those words.

“Definitely,” he smiled, his voice almost at a loss. “Yes, that’s definitely, yes, that.” TJ laughed a little: he was damn cute. Cyrus nodded, “When the time comes.”

“When the time comes,” TJ agreed. They held each other’s gaze a moment longer, before resuming the step back inside.

Most people had left the party by then, but there were a few stragglers as always: Buffy and Marty sat on the stairs, Marty was pulling a piece of silly string out of Buffy’s hair, then promptly flicked it back at her face. Jonah was talking to a couple of kids from school at the door, waving them out. Bowie was sitting on the kitchen counter, eating from a bag of chips while he slowly threw stuff into the trash can across the room, and Amber and Andi were sitting on the stage under the keyboard, whispering to themselves. TJ watched Cyrus smile at his friends, before bumping him lightly.

“I should head out,” he suggested.

“Probably,” Cyrus said sadly, turning back to face him. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” TJ questioned. “We make plans in advance now?”

“I need to separate ‘friend’ from ‘boyfriend’ somehow,” Cyrus explained. “Just in my mind,” he clarified, “Not to other people.”

TJ smiled in thanks. “I like movies,” TJ said. “I also like food.”

“Those are two things I like as well,” Cyrus smirked.

TJ looked around himself. He knew the area was dead, he knew it was just the two of them on that side of the house, but he checked. “I’d call it a date then.” And it made Cyrus happy. So happy, it was worth the risk if there had been people around them. “Stop doing that,” TJ whined.

“What?” He sounded innocent, and maybe he really couldn’t tell just how crazy he drove him.

“Making me what to tell everyone,” TJ said, moving slightly closer to him. “I like seeing you happy.”

“I’m happy with this no matter what,” Cyrus promised. “You could run me over with your bike and I’d still be happy.”

“Okay, sick, new date idea,” TJ grinned.

“Amber, your mom’s here!” Jonah’s voice rang through the house. TJ looked to Cyrus, taking him in for the last time that night, fully appreciating his boyfriend.

“Tomorrow, okay?” TJ confirmed.

“Tomorrow,” Cyrus replied.

[juminly]

Hey! Could I ask for a One Piece matchup? I've sent you the infos per discord ;D

Sonata of Love 

Summary: The story of how you fall in love with Law, Shanks and Coby. 

First Movement “Andante”: The Shichibukai, Trafalgar D. Law

Context: Law overheard that you needed to go to a certain destination and he so happened to be passing by/actually going there and one of the Heart Pirates so graciously invited you to come with, without Law’s permission (which obviously drove him mad). He let you join on the journey (while being wary of you).

As an INTP, this man has quite a calm and serious exterior but it doesn’t necessarily reflect what is hidden deep down. His interest in you began brewing slowly but also grew as he continued to observe you with his analytical and piercing gaze. The beginning of your story would be slow and steady. The man is a strategist and a thinker at heart, and diving into the world of romance is as risky a move as attacking a Yonko. (at least to a man like him).

The more you interact with each other or just being around one another, you begin to notice how kind he is. It was only a matter of time that you would prove that you are trustworthy, seeing how easily you got along with his crew (more like his family) and how you were just one of the guys (but not to him). He begins warming up to you. How did he show it?

Both of you would tease each other endlessly about everything and anything, even the silliest things out there but the banter was definitely a major factor that contributed to heighten the attraction between the two of you. The connection between you becomes electric and almost palpable, which becomes more evident as time goes by.

His cold exterior is nothing but a facade, especially when you see how he melts when faced with Bepo’s pleading eyes and cute mannerisms. His contrariness is the perfect combination with your teasing nature and paves the way for more opportunity for both of you to be yourselves around each other.

He’s used to being surrounded by the silliness of his adorable dorky crew members, so he is definitely not fazed by your quirkiness and actually has a soft spot for it. His lips, usually pressed into a straight line would slightly quirk up on the sides, showing a half smile whenever you get engrossed into something you enjoy or are up to some shenanigans with whoever your partner(s) in crime is (are). (eventually, he will become your partner in crime)

He might often find himself lost in thought, imagining, calculating and planning four steps ahead of where he is, as he is obscenely focused on achieving his goals.

His hyperfocus might put him in situations where he can be sometimes not fully attentive to what you are saying however, he is quick to turn things around and would apologize and make it up to you by lending you his full attention.

The chemistry between you feels strongest when you simply talk to one another, about anything in the world; discovering the broad horizons hidden within your minds. The deeper the conversations got, the closer you became and the more you revealed to one another.

He respects your independence and freedom and he is definitely not meddlesome. He would definitely not bother you if you seemed to be fine on your own, would simply leave you to your own devices whenever you were satisfied doing whatever it is that you are doing. You both understand that you have certain boundaries that you don’t feel comfortable crossing and wouldn’t push one another into talking or doing something they are not comfortable doing (until either of you feel like they are ready to open up or actually want to ask for help). 

The most adorable thing about this man is the way he blushes and pouts. There are multiple scenarios where that may happen: if he is caught thinking about something that he think he should not be thinking about (about you and the many things you could do together), whenever you tease him about a topic that turns out to be a bit sensitive cause it is related to you somehow or whenever he is talking about his feelings.

Your confession most probably went like this: 

- Law is sitting outside on the docks when everyone is asleep and just staring up at the moon, uncharacteristically humming to himself. - You suddenly show up and sit beside him. - Yuno: You realize that you have a terrible voice. *laughs* - Law: It’s not like your voice is any better. - Yuno: I never claimed that it was. *raises an eyebrow* - Law: But, you know… it actually is much better. I kinda like it. - Yuno: No, it’s not. Shut up! - Law: I’m telling you it is! You better shut your mouth. - Yuno: No, You sh... And just like that, Law kissed you ever so lightly, as an excuse to shut you up but blushed like crazy and stopped himself from apologizing after pulling back. He definitely did not regret kissing you but was afraid about what you thought of him. You never really showed romantic inclinations towards him and he wasn’t really planning on doing anything about it. The kiss just… happened. He was delightfully surprised when you grabbed his jacket and pulled him in for a deeper kiss before pushing him down on the hard wood of the docks and locked lips into they became swollen.

Once in a relationship with you, he is not demanding of your affections. He understands that your world does not revolve around him and his world does not revolve around you. He considers you as an intimate partner that he could share not only his ambitions with (like his crew), but his mind, body and soul (and the burdens that also come with life).

He actually loves to cuddle, especially when you’re the big spoon.

Places he kisses you to show affection: your hands.

NSFW ahead ~

Most probably demisexual

He is a big ass tsundere in romance and in bed too! (Which makes teasing him even more satisfying)

Law most definitely read about sex before, touched himself now and then (rarely so) but his sexual experience is almost non-existent (“almost” because he is too ashamed to admit that he has no knowledge about something so essential).

As detached and cold as he makes himself to be, Law is quite the romantic lover and is especially fond of when you sweet talk him (even if you tease him while doing it).

When you coax the most erotic sounds from him, which are mostly very soft moans and grunts, Law gets awfully flustered and embarrassed (trying to cover his face), his cheeks tinged in a deep red that only made you want to do even more things to him. He often bites his lips, instinctively whining at your touch whenever you touch him, tease him or especially when you’re edging him.

He likes to cum on your face or your chest (only when you let him).

Favourite positions: cowgirl and doggy-style (whenever you’re pegging him, when he’s facing away from you, he’s less flustered and releases all his inhibitions [which becomes less of an issue for him as time goes by but he’ll always be your blushy boy]).

He likes to think that he has some sort of self-control but you know that from the moment he starts biting his lips, you know that he can’t hold himself back. And there is nothing more beautiful than seeing the always so composed Trafalgar D. Law, completely unhinged in the throes of lust.

He challenges you almost all the time and has trouble just completely giving in (but that’s just what he wants you to think because he actually enjoys when you dom him).

He loves to tease you but almost can’t take it when you tease him back because he is fully aware that you are his weakness. 

He does prefer being on the receiving end. However, relationships are all about giving and taking and he enjoys giving you pleasure more and more, feeling rewarded whenever you praise him or when he sees your beautiful face as you reach your climax.

He was quite open about trying new things but there were still slivers of doubt and possibly, slight fear in his eyes. Something in the back of his mind told him that you would love him less if he appeared weak before you, although he knew deep down that it was definitely not true. These insecurities were engraved in his mind after losing Rosinante, which, until adulthood, he was still suffering from.

When it came to experimenting, you were able to find ways where you were both able to meet each other halfway. A trait in your relationship that you both valued more than anything else: your communication and understanding of one another.

You knew that Law actually liked having your eyes on him while he touched himself. It’s not that he was proud and liked to put on a show and flaunt his body to you. It was more of his way of expressing his desire for you.

And how you discovered that? You walked in on him a few times while he would just be starting to pleasure himself (he began to touch himself more after being with you and would usually time it so that you could be there as a spectator), you woke up to hearing his whines (and a few moans when he calls out your name) while he jerked himself off as you laid beside him.

The easiest way to get him to try new things was if he did it “things” to himself with you being there with him. Slowly but surely, he became more comfortable with what he was not so familiar with (and the foreign sensations it came with). First, you played a game with him where he had to listen to every single thing you said before you rode him the rest of the night. Law was most cooperative when roleplaying with you so you took that to your advantage (and you always do).

Eager for his promised reward (while trying to look disgruntled about it), he listened to each and every word you had to say. His hands gliding over his chest and his thighs, teasing himself while he frowned at you, knowing that you would stretch things out as long as possible, until he was going to be completely spent. When you told him to suck on his fingers, he had absolutely no idea what you were planning and was surprised when you told him to slowly circle his fingers around his entrance and gently push one finger inside and then another, thrusting in and out. That’s when he mumbled (with gasps in between his words): “You are… a devil… in an angel’s body…”

You couldn’t help but fall deeper in love with him when you saw him explore his own body before you, diving into new experiences that he knew would satisfy the both of you. It was all about taking baby steps and then slowly introducing some toys into the picture: butt plugs, dildos before you actually started to fuck him (it took a bit of time but you finally got there!).

Even as his uncharacteristic tsundere-like shyness persists (which is usually displayed through cursing under his breath, lots of grumbling and pouting), he became more candid about his desires and needs. He happened to mumble something about wanting to feel himself filling you while also feeling full at the same time (he actually revealed his ultimate weakness to you!). It was up to you to read between the lines or force the words out of him.

You’ve offered him quite a few times to take control but after trying it out a few times, Law didn’t really feel like himself so he would just “pass” on your suggestions (never admitting the truth of matter, like the tsundere that he is).

His “reluctant” form of enthusiasm was more than inviting and was full of promise and potential.

Kinks: roleplay, orgasm denial (being the one denied), overstimulation (being the one overstimulated), being watched by you.

Second Movement “Allegro/Vivace”: The Yonkō, Akagami no Shanks

Context: You caught his eye from the first time he had a chat with you. He was stopping by a bar/restaurant and being the friendly captain that he is, he struck up a conversation with you and it was enough to pique his interest in you. The way you talked back, the way you challenged his words and even questioned him and what he was doing as a pirate, unfazed by the fact that he is the infamous captain of the Red Hair pirates.

He was evidently struck by the innocence of your appearance but he didn’t let it fool him, especially with your overall demeanor. The way your smoky blue eyes held his, you thoroughly impressed him and that was enough to win him over. You were strong and there was nothing more attractive to him than a strong woman.

Always with a contagious smile on his face, happiness filled the air whenever you were near him. And just as pirates always needed sake to be around, Shanks felt something similar with you. He knew that you were pure of heart, a possible devil in disguise but most importantly, entertaining (which is something he could never turn down).

He didn’t push you to join him, but he let know that you were always welcome on his ship. And that’s how everything started. He didn’t need an extra crew member, he has all he needed. But he’s the type of person to live by the “You only live once” rule and he was not one to live with regrets. And he wasn’t going to let himself regret not having lived each moment of his life to the fullest.

In no time, you became one of the crew, each one of them teaching you a set of skills and you gained musical experience as you went from land to land, picking up on new skills and learning from various masters across the Blue Sea.

The Red Hair Captain treated everyone equally and was never one to demean any person for their social status, the pirate bounty or which faction they were part of. So, you felt respected and like you truly belonged on that ship, never feeling out of place for a moment.

But there was one day where you felt like things were different and that you were different to him. He often jokes around about the scars on his eye, not giving much importance to the topic (and basically, finding ways to evade it by bringing up other things very smoothly). But when you asked him about it one day when you were alone, he actually told you the truth about the matter. A serious and solemn expression washed over his face as he recounted to you the unfortunate events that lead to his scars, his ties to Blackbeard and his past as part of Roger’s crew.

He didn’t have to tell you that you were special to him. Actions spoke louder than words and that’s exactly what happened. And many times after that, which is something you’ve adopted as well.

Whenever you did something well (example: if you were playing a piece over and over again until you finally got it right) or when he simply wanted to thank you for a gesture, he would press a soft kiss to your forehead, cheek or even on your hand (as a form of reward). Since you’re a female, the crew thought nothing of his gestures, thinking that it was just his way with women (even though they knew for a fact that Shanks never really cared about one’s sex).

It came so easily, being physically intimate and close with the man, even when the sparks of attractions had only begun to set aflame the embers of your romance. Fleeting pecks on the cheek evolved onto swift kisses on the lips, given in a teasing manner. That’s one thing that you both have in common and drove you closer to one another.

Your first true kiss was not initiated by one of you, but it was a matter of both of you meeting each other in the middle, at least. There was no more teasing or chasing. It had been a long night and you were both exhausted, not wanting the time you shared to end (although you spent your waking hours surrounded by one another). Your eyes were locked on his and no words had to be spoken. The air is heavy and your mutual yearning was thick and palpable. One hand in his and the other on his neck, you pulled him in and he was most gladly reeled in to truly taste your lips, for the first time.

When you became lovers, it went without saying that this man had absolutely no shame and did not mind PDA at all, which is kinda endearing (especially when he never liked showing special treatment to anyone, but when it came to you, he can’t help but express his affection for you).

In every other aspect of your lives, both of you were completely independent and never really relied on one another. Being an INFJ (like you), he often liked to deal with things on his own and respected/valued the fact that you were also the same.

Shanks will go wherever the wind takes him and that’s what makes him so unpredictable. Nobody could ever tell what he’s thinking but he will always do the right thing. People might doubt the moral compass of a pirate but this man’s judgement can and should be unquestionable. And when it comes to you, he would never tie you down to him, knowing how dangerous of a life he leads.

Shanks would give you the choice to be with him on his ventures with his crew or go your separate way and pursue your own dreams. Even as your lover, he knows that he has no right to stand in the way of your path in your life. No matter where your paths may take you, your love will always bring you back together and it is always where you meet. His love for you is his Northern Star and no matter where he was, he would find you and the same goes for you.

Kisses of affection: on your forehead, your temples and your head.

NSFW ahead ~

Shanks might possibly be secretly a hedonist and has no qualms of engaging with men or women to pursue a romantic liaison or for sexual pleasure. Pleasure is what he seeks  and he doesn’t care much about how he obtained it. Once he discovered your tendency and inclination to domination, he gladly submits to you while lightly challenging you here and there, just to keep things fun and for a nice laugh, now and then.

He is a true free-spirit and power dynamics are not a subject of his interest. Sexual intercourse is an enactment of one’s desires and instincts, a representation of one’s true feelings and an expression of one’s love (or hate). He simply wants  to be touched by you, to touch you and feel your love in whatever shape or form it may be.

He is very accommodating to your needs and adapts to satisfy them while obtaining mutual pleasure (also, only when you allow him to get it).

He is a very generous man and likes to give more than he likes to receive. He gets off the idea of giving you pleasure and is simply turned on by the fact that he is able to please you, in any shape or form (by submitting to you, touching you, letting you touch him etc…).

He isn’t loud but he is vocal enough for you to know whether he is enjoying what you are doing or not: soft to rough grunts and groans with the occasional guttural moan especially when you edge him.

He loves to cum on your hands (and watch you lick his release off your hands or even make him do it) or on your stomach.

Favourite positions: seated lotus and missionary (when you’re pegging him).

Dirty talk is 100% his thing and he’ll whisper the filthiest things in your ear, even with his crew around, to rile you up (and possibly enjoy the sweet punishment that he would suffer for making you so wet with just a few words).

Even with one hand, Shanks is extremely dexterous and with skilled and practiced fingers and his tongue, he could bring you to the brink of an orgasm. Considering the wealth of his knowledge and experience, the time it takes for you to reach your climax all depends on him and obviously, your instructions.

In fact, he helped you explore and learn more about the dom in you. Telling you about his previous experiences and his knowledge about sex, he allowed you to step further out of your comfort zone, where you would both experiment new things together.

He isn’t a sadist or a masochist but has a deep understanding and appreciation of the fine line between pain and pleasures and is completely enthralled when you edge him, as you make him beg and chase for a release that would be totally worth all the teasing and pain.

He already has an interesting collection of sex toys which he allows you to use on him (and would only use on you, if you suggested it or wanted to know how it would feel like). From different sized dildos, to butt plugs, nipple clamps, spreader bar, flogs , anal beads and even cock rings (which he is a big fan of). His collection is a representation of how truly adventurous he is as an individual.

About his interest in cock rings: He revels in the pain of you riding his swollen cock while it twitches and begs for release (figuratively and literally). He loves even the most sadistic thing you throw at him. With the cock ring  making his member throb insistently, he indulges the most in pleasuring you with his mouth, making you find your release over and over again with your legs about his shoulders and his head between your legs. Once you remove the ring from around his cock, one stroke from your hand or with one thrust inside you and he’s already in heaven.

How he is when pegging is involved: he enjoys the feeling of being filled and fucked by you. With his legs spread wide for you (or even wrapped around your waist), he likes watching you fuck him and pound into him while you stroke him simultaneously. You have the pleasure of seeing the captain in the most compromising, vulnerable and erotic state that anyone would ever have the chance to see.

Kinks: SM play, a bit of exhibitionism, breath play/choking, edging.

His possible weaknesses are when you ravage his neck and jerk him off, while telling him all the ways you plan on doing,  making him burn and writhe for you; when you lick off his release from his stomach and look into his eyes while doing so (he officially loses it).

Third Movement “Allegro Modera”: Rear-Admiral Coby/Koby

Context: He saw you playing at a festival with a local band and he was completely entranced by the way you played. He was stationed at the Navy HQ for a while so he had the chance to roam around Sabaody Archipelago where he had the opportunity to come across you. It was one of the few gigs you had and the opportunities you used to improve your skills and be exposed to new and different things. 

One day, his legs took him to where your band always practiced and watched the entire session with bated breath. To anyone else, he just looked like either a weirdo or a music enthusiast but he was neither. He was mystified by the skill it took for each one of the musicians to actually play the way they did. 

You recognized him from the festival and went to speak to him (also because the band/orchestra manager wanted you to check it you guys were in some sort of trouble or something). He just blurted out of nowhere: “Would you like to play at Navy HQ?” (And somehow, you became regulars there and at some point, you became their band)

He’s actually a bookworm and spends a lot of his time studying about history, civilizations, the history of the Navy, Pirates and even the Celestial Dragons. He knows for a fact that this information will aid him into becoming a “good” and “righteous individual”.

He’s loyal as a dog when it comes to his friends and loved ones.

Being the peacemaker that he is, he is constantly striving to learn more about the world and about others. He strongly believes that once we learn more about one another and understand each other, there would be less conflict in the world. That type of thinking was ingrained in his mind whenever it came to his professional or personal life.

When it came to you, he was always curious and very keen to learn about you and about your interests, always asking you questions about things he didn’t know.

 He loved watching how your face lit up when you spoke about something you loved and it might his chest feel tighter in a very weird way (he actually went to the doctor to check if there was something wrong with him and the doctor had to tell him 1000x that he was the epitome of health).

Much like yourself, he becomes very animated and excited when you ask him about the books he’s read or about things that he’s learned from Garp, who he looks up immensely.

He is a training/fitness freak, taking . Trained all the soldiers so diligently until it completely wore him down but for some reason, having you around made him push himself and his soldiers even more (which made them come to you quite often and ask you to engage him in some other activity, but definitely not training).

It’s his duty (as part of the Navy) to protect others and always feels the need to protect the weak. That being said, you proved countless times that you could hold up on your own, without needing anyone else’s him.

Being surrounded by Marines doesn’t mean that you were in the most friendly of environment, some of the Navy soldiers obnoxiously thought of themselves as predators and tried to forcibly flirt with you or force you into joining them for a drink. Without resorting to violence, your words were more than enough to put the men in their place, cutting them like sharp knives.

In that instance, he found a kindred spirit in you. You were not one to throw themselves into needless action when there could be a smarter way out of situations.

However, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t need the skill set to defend yourself. Which is why he started giving you self-defense lessons and soon after, began giving you private training as well. He strongly believed in your talent and thought that a talented woman with a beautiful (and striking) appearance such as yours could find herself in unwanted situations.

He respected your intelligence and actually loved the fact that you were quirky. It was refreshing when he was in an environment where he has to be so proper, being the rear-Admiral and all. 

However, his position never affected the way he treats those around him so he also ends up looking weird when he rambles about things out of nowhere (and soldiers are just dying to find excuses to make him shut up).

There were certain moments where he had to stop training but his body would start acting up on him because of the close contact with you. You were definitely strong and getting even stronger (which made him so proud of you!), but he was not immune to your femininity (and touching your curves).

Never got used to you teasing him, always blushing and too flustered to come up with a reply.

He was often teased by other Navy soldiers that he was a soldier through and through and lacked the mannerisms of a true gentleman (which was not true at all). This was a rumour that was spread amongst his comrades by Garp to actually get poor Koby to act on his feelings, which he had no idea about.

You once found him reading a bizarre looking book about flirting techniques and how to approach women. He looked like he was doing something sketchy and afraid to get caught. So, you snuck up next to him very slowly and sat next to him. He was hyper focused and couldn’t even tell that you were there [letting his guard down like that will get him killed! But you’re no killer ;)].

Your presence near him didn’t register until you grabbed his chin and locked your lips together, making his heart leap out of his body. He almost melted on the spot and became putty in your hands right then and there. The pink flush dusting his cheeks made you pepper soft pecks over his cheekbones, coaxing the most adorable throaty chuckle from the young gentleman.

As you became lovers, Coby didn’t feel the need to show off the fact that you were his or act protective in any kind of way. You were your own person and being his lover wasn’t something that would define who you were and become part of your identity.

In a professional capacity, you were simply employed by the same organization and knew that you wouldn’t always be by his side, which was more than okay with him.

He absolutely loves it when you play with his hair (as he lays his head on your lap and reads something while you are doing something else).

He loves watching you play music and sometimes, he starts tearing up when he does (you don’t bring it up to him because it brings back some sensitivity about him being called “crybaby” in the past). If you kiss his tears away, he would smile shyly at you and whisper every single time “You are just… so beautiful”.

He gets awfully flustered whenever you pat his head (but if a day goes by without you doing this, he feels like there is something missing).

Kisses of affection: cheeks and nose.

NSFW ahead ~

Sex was not something he was acquainted with nor was it something that he paid much attention to. During his entire life, the only thing he’s ever done was relieve himself, only when he had to (in the morning, after training or in the nighttime when his body suddenly felt extremely hot and his cock would grow heavy and hard).

It was a journey of self-discovery that he embarked on with you. Coby was nervous the first few times, not knowing what to expect and what exactly he was supposed to do. But, you were always there to guide him through it all, discovering things about him as you touched him and taught him things about yourself, as you allowed him to touch you in return.

In the beginning, you were both satisfied with just hand jobs, fingering and oral sex but soon after that, things got hot and heavy quickly as you both simply needed more. Having trained him as well as you have, he didn’t bat a lash when you introduced sex toys into your dynamic (which he actually was excited to try).

This boy… Oh boy… He was born for you to please and born to please you. He was extremely vocal, his moans were the most salacious and scandalous thing you’ve ever heard, which makes you want to dom him even more than you already do.

His eyes are always so clear and inviting, his purity is almost palpable and the only thing he wants is you, no matter how he can. You know he is turned on when he licks his lips and they remain parted as he looks into your eyes.

Coby might seem like the timid type (which deep deep down, he still might be and it shows with the flush of his cheeks) but he is shameless when it comes to his desire for you. You told him to always be open about his desires when it came to your romantic/sexual relationship and that’s what he did and always intended to do, when it came to you.

Coby was a raw instrument, for you to fine tune, strum and use as you pleased. And he once told you while he was in the depth of passion, “Every single time we are together, I want you to play me like there is no tomorrow. Please.”

His diligence towards you and ensuring you were satisfied was heartwarming. The most adorable thing that you ever found in his room was a small notebook in his drawer where he took notes of the things you like and dislike, with scribbles and annotations everywhere. (you actually caught him once, writing in that same notebook in the middle of the night with a happy smile on your face, but you acted like you were asleep, not letting him know that you were in on his endearing little secret).

His favourite position: 69 (he enjoys being in a position where he is blessed by your touch and also being able to touch your skin and taste you + loves it when you both prepare each other for the sultry nights you spend together).

He can’t really decide on what other position could be his favourite because he enjoyed all the ones you’ve tried so far. However, he prefers the ones where you are facing each other.

He is incapable of dirty talk. He is too polite for that type of thing and respects you too much to even say filthy things in your presence (the worst curse he’s ever used is “shit” and with the occasional “fuck”, when things are really bad). He loves saying loving and sweet things to you, calling out your name and “my love/darling”.

For some reason, he doesn’t like the idea of covering you with his release. He’d much rather come inside of you. But, he also discovered he kinda likes to cum on your back (that one time you wanted to see how it would be like if he got really rough with you - in front of a mirror).

Whenever you suggest to him to do whatever he wants, he would get confused. He honestly believes that the way things are between you is actually how it’s supposed to be. But being the man that he is, he didn’t want to say “no” to you. He was most comfortable letting you take control, wanting to make sure that you were thoroughly satisfied and not risking the fact of doing something not to please you.

And when it actually happened, you thought that he was out for revenge for all the times you made him cry for release but he was only expressing his devotion to you. It was quite a spectacle when you were curious to see how he would be like if he took control. 

He turns into a starved animal but not in the way you thought. He covered your skin with kisses, not letting a single curve untouched or unkissed. Coby is into body worship and made sure that you were thoroughly aware of it, wanting you to know how devoted he is to you.

If anyone could be the perfect sub, it would definitely be him. He knows every single thing that pleases you and makes sure to apply every single bit of information he has in his mind into making you happy and satiated. He follows instructions almost too well. It sometimes feels like he can read your mind and between the lines of your words.  

The way he moves and rolls his hips… Hnghh… (enough said!)

Buttplugs might have become his favourite toy (he likes it when you put it in him even when it’s not in preparation for you to take him from the back). BUT, it’s actually a close race with ropes and flogs/whips.

The first time you ever tied him up, you could feel the tension in his body as he relinquishes every inch of him to you, utterly vulnerable to you (which was totally not something a rear Admiral should be doing). He trusted you more than anything and he wanted to show you that.

He loved that you talked him through it, your voice soothed him as you slowly eased him through the experience, binding him in ways he never thought were possible (unless he was captured by an enemy).

That was when you discovered he became undoubtedly turned on when you called him “baby” or especially “baby boy”.

Kinks: body worship, spanking (getting spanked), shibari and mirror sex (his body trembles at the thought of watching you drive him crazy and bringing him to the edge).

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ my reality is a cruel fall without you.

date: august 2020.

location: ash’s living room / ash’s therapist’s office / ash’s apartment studio.

word count: 1,822 words, excluding lyrics.

summary: -

triggers: n/a.

notes: creative claims verification.

i.

ash has been through this exact writing process three times prior and he’s picked up some tricks. defining the seasons in the context of love had become easier for him as he finished their respective songs one by one.

winter had been the cold of the world driving two people together.

spring had been the honeymoon phase.

summer had been the oppressive weight of a long-term relationship taking its toll.

now, it’s time for him to write fall.

ii.

it’s been a year.

ash can’t remember anything in his life ever feeling quite as heavy as that promise ring had the night he’d slipped it off the chain around his neck and passed it out of his grasp for the last time, a mere six months after he’d put it on his finger and thought he’d had everything figured out.

“i love you so much, but we both know this isn’t working.” 

(i love you, but not in the way i thought i’d been looking for my whole life any more.)

if he’d looked at himself from the outside, he would have felt silly for feeling his entire core splitting in half as the silver ring clattered onto the table, his resolve too weak to thrust it directly into the other man’s hand, but there’d always been the unspoken understanding that the ring was more than a silly promise.

a public declaration of forever in a relationship as an active idol is, by most accounts, socially impossible. making that forever official in the form of government documents as a same-sex couple in south korea is, by all accounts, legally impossible.

forever had been a big thought to a barely twenty-three year-old, and it’d only grown more massive the longer it hung over ash’s head blissfully unacknowledged for the sake of his own happiness, for the sake of the idea of finally getting his own happy ending. he’d get there one day. then, it wouldn’t feel so all-encompassing, so terrifying, but months had passed and he’d felt like he was only getting farther away from that one day.

it hadn’t gone unnoticed to ash that, without fail, he’d been the one to deflect from the topic of forever when talk between them became too real. with time, it started to weigh him down. one day, he looked up and found he wasn’t on that cloud high above everything anymore.

he was in a different world and he couldn’t see a way he’d ever be able to climb back up to be on even ground.

so, it had ended at ash’s hand.

ash had once heard a person needs half the time they were in a relationship to get over it, so looking at the calendar and seeing august come around once again, that hill should officially be behind him now.

so why does he still think about it with sorrow at times like these?

how are you? how are you doing without me?

he has no intentions of writing a song about him for his fall single at first. he only wants to distract himself on the anniversary of the last ending he’d faced. the last one he’d ever face if he’d learned anything worthwhile.

but when does he ever learn?

his piano is an old friend at times like these. if the wood had any consciousness within it beyond what he projects into it in his most desperate times of need, it would surely judge him for how he goes back to it like clockwork in his times of emotional distress, but the rest of the world will judge him less for it than it will for turning to the bottles in his kitchen or the exes in his phone.

there’s a pattern to it now. sit down, straighten his back (the weight of the world on his shoulders is no excuse for poor playing posture), rest his phone on the bench next to him with an application recording every note he plays, and lay a blank notebook of music staves next to it in case he decides to be formal about anything workable that comes out of his idling.

nothing noteworthy comes to him at first, but the more he plays, the more fresh ideas begin swirling in a twister in his mind against his initial intentions of merely distracting himself. he messes around with chords, keys, arpeggios. he’s been forcing it a lot lately, and it hasn’t turned out in his favor. letting it slowly seep its way out of his pores might be the better course of action now instead.

his mind is frantic but the music is slow and inspiration piles up inside of him until he decides to sit and think through a chord progression, then a top line melody, then he fleshes it out. the first step in the process is never perfect, but he isn’t stumped with where to go with it yet, and that’s a good sign. more and more, he’s felt defeated with his songwriting after idea after idea gets rejected by the only people whose opinions really matter if he ever wants his songs to make it out in the world. he could think a song is the best piece he’s ever crafted, but if it doesn’t appease the bc entertainment gods, it will never see the light of day.

he tries not to think about that while he works on this song. that’s the roadblock he’s run into too many times before trying to pluck out something he can be proud of on the strings of a guitar or on the black and white keys of a piano.

the end product is something jazzy but moody, laden with his unspoken emotions but in a way that lends itself to simplicity, but he ponders for days the right way to put words to it.

he can feel what he wants the lyrics to say. it’s when he attempts to put them into words with a rhyme scheme and an appropriate meter that he struggles. ash has become a master at packaging his emotions into a pretty song with structure and a story, but this time, it’s evading him. the feeling is emptiness, but it’s also missing something he doesn’t really want back. it’s wanting something he can’t have now and wanting to tear himself apart for wanting it. it’s looking down the dark path to his future and seeing only less and less light as it stretches out in front of him. it’s fear of the inevitable pitch black darkness at the very end of the path and how quickly it’s approaching.

iii.

it’s after his second therapy session with his new therapist that something occurs to ash that stays with him beyond the time he’d paid for.

it’s not something he brings up during the session itself, or says out loud to anyone. ash doesn’t talk about his romantic life in detail with any therapist he’s ever had, even though he’s well-aware refusing to bring it up is ignoring a festering wound that needs attention if it’s ever going to heal. he’s heard too many horror stories about professionals that were supposed to know better discovering the money for the gossip being better than adherence to the oath of confidentiality they’d made for him to find comfort in disclosing the intricacies of his private life.

there’s a part of him he’s still holding back, but he only finds comfort in not opening up completely even to the person he’s paying to allow him to do just that without too much outward judgment.

opening himself fully or not, the lyrics to the song come easier to him after that. putting what he’s feeling into words is no easy task, but he’s made progress on it already. possibilities don’t come flooding out like a broken dam, but they do trickle down through his brain steadily enough for him not to lose hope. the slow drops only come when he pries them out, but they come nonetheless.

iv.

the mood of the song evolves in a way ash hadn’t anticipated at first. it becomes sadder in tone, more wistful. that had been a given from the moment the lyrics began to flesh out, but playing around in cubase ends with him deciding the song works its best as a simple piano composition, stripped bare like his emotions.

the piano remains prominent even as he adds more percussion and the main instrumental piano track gets jazzed up more than the initial draft recording had been. in a world where his music reflects solely his gut instinct, the song would be even more bare bones than it becomes. he imagines he would have taken a direction similar to “the unknown guest” on his last album, purposefully under-produced and made to sound like something that isn’t radio friendly, but it’s still simple enough to sound stripped-down to an untrained ear. the more he works on the song, the more he understands he does want it to be played on the radio. then, maybe, he’ll be able to tell himself the right person had heard it and convince himself of the closure he needs.

there’s a feeling in his chest as he listens to the final draft version, with layers of his vocals put down and a thoroughness that only comes with a song that has found its final form, that feels a little like he’s at the top of a mountain. he can’t put a name to it other than thinness of air. it’s not disappointment or regret, and as much as he decides he does really like how it turned out, it isn’t pride either.

the song is different than he would have thought it would be when he began it — after all, at some point visions of his ex-boyfriend had begun to mix with visions of the current flame he held — but different in a way that he hopes does service to the song instead of taking away from it.

at first, it’d been about his past relationship, a love that had been suffocated by his own choice.

now?

in a way, the song is about that relationship, but, in ways, it’s about the one that had come before that. and the one before that. and then, at the end, it becomes about the next one. the one he’s not supposed to have, but the one he’s confessed to yearning for in secret in the lyrics.

i want to fall in love.

unlike so many other songs he’s written, he’s not really begging for love to return to him or cursing himself for wanting such a thing. it’s about something else.

then it hits him: it’s not any of his relationships, long passed or current or future, that he’s holding on to. it’s a lament pried out of him by the lover he’s taken up in the time since, one entirely separate, but also entirely connected that creeps in the corner of every room he enters: loneliness.

[adambombvilivus]

Confession: I once broke into a friend’s house with malicious intent

 and it involved jelly sandwiches

Okay, so first off, I want to keep things vague and anonymous, since I don’t want this former friend to be connected in any way. Now, it’s been a good few years and more since this happened, but I’m still very paranoid and nervous and, as I hope you’ll understand from reading, traumatized from it. It was a pretty strange saga of events on my end so I would appreciate you read all the way through before judging me please.

To give the best background, I’ll start from the beginning of knowing this guy. We met in middle school, sixth grade I believe; we weren’t friends for about a year but we shared common friends and often sat together so we just got along in time, of course. This guy, this kid, seemed pretty normal in every way, for a middle schooler. Well, “normal” among my friends and I, but we were misfits who just gathered at our own spot since we didn’t really belong to a group identity. At least that’s how I saw it, but I don’t know what the rest of them thought. We got along pretty well, finding out we shared common taste in games and music and shows we liked, and he was one of those friends, I thought, you could always trust to be real with when needed. We weren’t best friends but he was cool when it mattered.

Okay so here’s what you’ll find weird, probably: every single day, without fail, I kid you not, all anyone ever saw this dude eat was jelly sandwiches(not even peanut butter & jelly, just jelly. I always assumed it was strawberry jelly, but I never asked). All he ever said about the sandwiches is that he really loved jelly and it was homemade. I would’ve thought that someone in the faculty or something would’ve stepped in, since I knew teachers knew about it and thought it was a bit strange and unhealthy too, but he claimed he didn’t mind it at all and he seemed in good health all the time, minus regular illnesses. Not that I mind jelly sandwiches, but personally, I can’t eat something every day for more than a couple weeks in a row without getting fully sick of it for a long time, but hey, everyone is different. Oh, and I nearly forgot to put it in here, but  he had mentioned the red room all the way back then, just a couple of times. Once or twice he brought it up in conversations where we were talking about making houses in The Sims games, and he said something about this “red room” in his house that he really liked. He never described the red room, because apparently it was one of those things that was ‘embarrassing to talk about at school’, but he said it was cool and I’d probably like it if I ever saw it.

I’ve never been good with locations and addresses, so it took me until midway through high school to find out from some random situation that he had been living only a few blocks away the whole time! Both of us had lived our whole lives to that point in these homes, so that was funny to me. Since we enjoyed a lot of the same games and I had never really hung out with anyone outside of school before, I thought it would be cool to just walk over to his house and hang out for a few hours and play stuff. He seemed fully down for it and after I told my mom where he lived, she was fine with me going (I was just only 16 and it was late in the year, so it was getting dark early). Getting to his house was easy since we would just go a certain way from school that I had never walked, but it was in the neighborhood and I knew the area. That first time hanging out at his home was awkward for me but nice; we talked more than I had anticipated, about a lot of things around growing up with divorced parents and annoying older siblings and all, while he showed me some of his collections. We played games on his GameCube which I had never tried before, and his mom offered to feed me dinner, but I politely refused since we were going to have steak at home haha.

I went home and had my dinner and said I had a nice time, and that was all, nothing strange that time. When I got into bed that night I kicked myself for forgetting to ask about the red room he had mentioned years ago! I only had that little bit more to make me want to hang out again and it could be another fun thing to do or talk about, so I figured I’d bring it up the next day. He seemed pleasantly surprised that I remembered it after the years and wanted to show me next week if I came over again. Jump to that next visit, walking to his house and all, mostly the same until we had a quiet moment, and the thought came back for me to ask about the red room. He perked up and said something like’ “ooooh..right! Yeah right down here”. Same door as any of the other rooms in his house, nothing strange from in the hall; I was nervous but excited, the way you would be at anything small and silly but with years of mild curiosity behind it.

Okay, pause for a second to imagine the weirdest thing, realistically, you’d expect to see from something called “The Red Room”. I’m expecting you’ll probably imagine, like I had, that his mom just had a room where the walls were red and everything was colored red and it was some kind of hobby or something, maybe with neat art inside or whatnot.

I promise you, this...was not that.

Seriously, what my friend did was open the door, lightly push it all the way open, and walk back to his room and shut his door back closed, all without a word, but I only ever thought about that fact in following years. What I did notice first, however, was naturally, the red, but I’ll give you extra context:

First: the room was totally empty. When I say totally, I mean totally. Not so much as a small piece of forgotten trash on the carpet. It looked like the barest room of a freshly built house.

Second, the room was just a square, just a box. No closet door or sliding door, just the four equal walls.

Third, maybe the strangest of these three: Never before had I seen a room in a home with neither windows nor power outlets, or a room light on the ceiling, I don’t think.

When I say this room was just four bare walls and carpet, that is not an overstatement in any way whatsoever. I just want you to know how serious I am about everything I say here, and it’s important you really take that in before you continue reading.

Now, for what I noticed first. This room, whose doorway I was only standing in, must’ve been called the red room because of the red lighting inside. I say lighting instead of light, because I feel that more accurately conveys that there were no actual lights in this room. It wasn’t red like from a lamp, not like a glow, but similar to the way a sunset can make the outdoors look completely orange. A subtle but sure red, that lit the room like  2 o’clock sun, but there was no window, and even if there was a window, this was during the winter where it gets dark by 6 pm. If you know me, you know I am a coward and so obviously, this is uncharacteristic of me to do, but I’m guessing that I was simply in shock from anxiety to walk away. I walked into the room and I heard this sort of strange buzzing. Putting my ear against the wall, I still heard the buzzing, not much louder, but also vague machinery noises. I’d think with all of the How It’s Made I used to watch, I’d have an idea of what I heard, but nah.

Now that I had a moment to let myself absorb the oddity of this place, I turned around, walked out of the door, closed the door in the most gentlest way, walked down the hall, downstairs, and out of the front door. Like my friend, I said nothing. I was too stunned to walk home fast, I think; I mean, I was traumatized from this. Maybe it’s silly, but I’m a coward. I can’t remember much else from that night since my mind couldn’t focus on anything else. I don’t think I told my mom about it. I don’t think I slept that night or was even able to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t scary but sometimes you just have an experience that just gives you a whiplash being what you are ready to process. I hope you understand.

Just so it’s out there, I’ll go into the boring bits that I’m sure you can infer. Of course I never spoke about it. It’s not like I saw a murder. A story of a weird blank room is one thing, but I can’t tell someone that a room was illuminated by some paranormal red lighting. Yeah, I’m serious and able to open up now, but some teenager isn’t going to feel secure with being as honest-to-god as they can be and being doubted and made to feel crazy. I was already quiet, called weird, not very socially secure my whole life, maybe you can relate. As for that friend and I, well I can’t remember exactly the way we were the next day, but I think it was something along the lines of him saying he hoped I had fun and acting totally normal as before. I didn’t mention the room. I didn’t mention the room at all to anyone since this. I never went back to hang out with him again and he never asked, to my relief every day. We stayed friends through school like normal, although I had the added gift of a little well of anxiety every time he approached our group, sitting down with us eating his jelly sandwiches and joking around about stupid shit that I hate myself for laughing at and saying back then. I think other people noticed me being a little more nervous and distraught than I had been before, but nobody, even at home, ever asked what was on my mind. Most days I had only one thing to tell them regardless.

That is just how it was for a couple of years until graduation. On the last day of school he randomly told me that he hoped we could stay in contact or hang out again sometime, and I just let out a “Heh, yeah that’d be cool yeah.”, but we haven’t spoken or seen each other again after that day. Maybe the odd text counts as communication, but it never held my interest. One time out of nowhere, he texted me a jar of jelly emoji, which I never responded to; only today did I check and noticed there is no jar of jelly emoji on my phone. Neither of us had moved for a few years, so the though of that house being so close to mine that whole time never stopped making me feel uneasy, especially when we would drive near or down his street, and my mom felt like asking about him every damn time for some reason, nearly giving me a panic attack each time. Maybe if I had went to therapy or opened up about it I could’ve started an adult life after graduation, but IMO, trauma never helps anyone grow into a stronger person. Others may be stronger than me in the first place to handle these things, but I’ve never felt that concept.

To jump back into the story though, it was about a year and a few moths after graduating high school. That night still haunted me and, I don’t know, it was just a strange week in my head. I had mustered up this idea to go back but I can’t imagine why. One day after driving down his street, I noticed that the cars at his house were gone from the driveway, and my mom mentioned to me that they had been for a while and they must’ve been on vacation, since nothing suggested that they moved out (their garage was always full of clutter and they never had parked the cars in there). The next day it just came out of my mouth to say that he texted me asking to hang out at his house and catch up from the years, since they just came home from vacation and he said that I would probably like to see some souvenirs he brought home. It was a good enough lie for the time.

I knew I would be breaking in, so I sneakily grabbed a hammer before I left the house just as it would be getting dark. I don’t know why I did any of this. I was haunted, traumatized, I didn’t feel like I could talk, and I sought peace and resolution so badly. I didn’t know where their family really was, but I figured, to hell with it, if the cops show up while I’m there, I’ll tell them to check out that room or I’d plead insanity or something; I spent the past four years or so being very depressed and fixated on this surreal memory, I didn’t really give a shit.

The walk to his house was a blur from being lost in my head, but I got there anyway. I put my hoodie up as cover, but that was about it. I know I wasn’t being discreet, but again, I didn’t really care. I only barely tried the front door, and of course it was locked, so I used my hammer on their window in the front of the house. I’ve always been weak, so it took me a few swings, and being louder than I should have, to get a break, but I did it. Maybe I was too numb to feel how sore my arms were. I cleared the spiky shards around the window and turned on my phone flashlight before climbing and stumbling into the house.

Being in the kitchen, it just clicked to me to think about his jelly sandwiches. Even by that point, that’s all I ever saw him eat. When I had looked back before, I never even saw anyone else in his family eat, but I was only there twice briefly so that never stood out to me. It was almost out of frustration or anger or spite that I wanted to find a jar of his jelly and smash it with the hammer or something, just as payback for the trauma I had been living with.

I opened their fridge to look for that fuckin stuff and I found it.

Yeah I found too much of it. I found a whole entire damn refrigerator full of red jelly. That is it. Same as the room upstairs was truly empty, this refrigerator was full of nothing but red jelly. I wasn’t horrified, I was disgusted. I took a jar out and set it on the counter. Homemade fuckin jelly. The cabinets? All jelly too. Every nook and cranny for where food should’ve been had homemade red jelly. I bet I didn’t even have to tell you that. Heck, did I see any bread for making sandwiches? No, not even a loaf of white bread. Maybe they took it with them to use while away. I think I can remember laughing that they still had standard junk and cutlery drawers, and beneath their sink had everything you’d expect as well. Like a cat, I just slid that jar of jelly off of the counter and watched it shatter. It just spilled out a little liquid, but mostly still gooped up like normal jelly. I was/am so angry that things weren’t weirder than that. Was I an ass for breaking in and being angry over a family that loves their jelly. They had a whiteboard in their kitchen for reminders and such(I saw it mentioned a vacation countdown), and I erased it fully before I took a marker, and I wrote, with much anger and shakiness in my hands, ‘Too much fuckin jelly. Eat something else besides fucking jelly! Fuck you, fuck your family, fuck your jelly, fuck your window, fuck this house, and fuck your fucking boring red room!’.

I dropped the marker on the counter and let out the breath I was holding in and breathed again. I stood there for just as long as I could while the anxiety crept in and I started to shake. Sometime during that standing I heard the creaking of floorboards from upstairs. I grabbed my phone before I even grabbed my thoughts, and thus it was another blur. As I made my way just a very short distance from the kitchen to the front door, I could clearly hear footsteps down the stairs. I do remember trying my best to be quick but also as silent as possible as I left through the door and leaving it wide open. I didn’t speed up my pace nor look back. I just walked home, quite similar to that last time, no more settled or at peace. I think that’s why I have to share the story now, because clearly breaking and entering didn’t help. I didn’t even have the guts to see that room again, and I’m sorry if you wanted to know if there was anything more to it. I got home and didn’t say much of note about what I was up to, or how I explained not being gone for much time, but nothing ever became of it. I never heard of a break-in report or anything. Moving away has been the biggest relief from that place I have ever had, and the only. The only evidence I have of any of this is just what I saw with my own eyes and have as memories. Sometimes you go through things that you just have to accept and live with because you’re a lonely person and are more used to facing loneliness than the pain of distrust and different looks. I just couldn’t stand the silent guilt anymore. I have been living with this experience, but it was hitting a point to where I didn’t want to live at all. I’ll certainly never be able to see a jar of strawberry jelly again without vomiting.

[delicrieux]

divination

PART 2: MY GIRL

PAIRING: charlie weasley x reader

summary: charlie has a crush on (name) and tries to act normal around her. surprise! it appears (name) has a crush on him, too also, requested by anons and @ghostwriter050402. a/n: this may or may not be a set up to another fic lol. ANYONE THAT WANTS TO BE TAGGED LEMME KNOOOO!!! ALSO! y’all are THIRSTY FOR CHARLIE!! TBH CAN’T BLAME YOU i love myself a man w a ponytail. i’ve gotten a lot of requests so i put them at the end of the fic as to not take up too much space :) what else what else...oh! thank you everyone for loving my fics! means the whole world to me, really. your comments make my day <3 THANK YOU TO MY BAE @slytherin-princess1 FOR THIS MOODBOARD! SUPPORT MY WIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! xoxo

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

MASTERLIST.  ko-fi (i chug coffee as i write these fics, and another cup would make me happy <3)

Charlie Weasley never really had the chance to talk to you during your first three years at Hogwarts, and he blames it on Quidditch and his lack of suave charm for this ordeal. Bill always raved about how absolutely fantastic you are, what a smart witch, good friend, and a passionate person. He was not even sure how you looked until he saw his brother rush to a short Slytherin girl with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. He was about to take a sip of pumpkin-juice, though his hand, seeming to have a mind of its own, had halted near his lips and the liquid drizzled helplessly onto his shirt. He hardly even noticed the mess he was making, instead his attention now stuck onto you as his eyes trailed you and Khan wave bye to Bill and take a seat by your table. Bill, too chipper for such an early gloomy morning, sat down next to his brother idly chatting about this and that when—

“Charlie…” Bill started gently, “Are…Are you okay? What happened to your shirt?”

That is how it had all started. Rita Skeeter’s competition made you even more of a target for the public eye, and he suddenly started seeing you everywhere. Perhaps noticing you is the better term to describe it – you are not a ghost, nor have you deliberately taken routes where you knew he was loitering about. If you were missing your usual group of friends, which consisted of some of the brightest and most mischievous students of the time, you were sneaking around the castle looking like a suspicious girl trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. Even before regarding you fully, not just in passing indifferent glances, he had heard of your mission, your brother, and the dangers and chaos that followed after you.

You are just…so cool, how could he not crush on you?

Andre is friends with everyone. He has connections and he knows how to use them, and he also happens to be Charlie’s best friend. Keeping crushes a secret from bothers is easy because they are mostly preoccupied with other things, and Bill is drowning in his Prefect duties as it is. But from best friends? It took exactly five minutes for Andre to notice the dreamy look in Charlie’s eye during dinner one night, and ten minutes to coarse it out of him. With his secret outed, Charlie had desperately shushed his friend when he giggled not so subtly, and only after Andre swore not to say a word about this to anyone did he ease up. After a bit of deliberation, Charlie then asked Andre for a bit of help. Nothing drastic, just something to get your attention, or at the very least inform you of his existence.

And Andre had helped him. In a conversation, which Charlie demanded be described in great detail, that Andre and you had had at Hogsmeade, Andre had named dropped Charlie, completely out of place and out of context. You must have either not noticed or not cared, because it sure as hell sounded weird and awkward.

But as fate has it, he is seated next to you in one of his least favourite lessons – Divination. Though, upon noting your tiny form plopped on a seat by his table, he soon came to change his mind.

The room is hazy and full of light pink and purple smoke, lavender incense, and crackling fire. It’s hot. Fumes stick to his skin, and he has to shake off his robe as in a last attempt to feel less warm. You have long lost yours. No windows are open. The Professor mumbles ghastly into her crystal, her soft whispers a mix of fright and awe. Students mumble quietly amongst themselves. No one dares to break the silence with a laugh, because they know that the professor will freak if they do. The crystal ball resting on his and yours table emits an alluring lilac hue.

The two of you had shared formalities and then fallen into silence, focusing on the task at hand – seeing the future. The Professor had promised that vision would come to all who gaze into the crystal’s depths. Charlie did not buy it for a single second, he even grinned dumbly, about to strike a conversation with you about what absolute bull this class is, only to find you greatly immersed and glaring at the crystal. It then dawned to him that you are, most likely, trying to see your brother in that small glass. That or you are greatly interested in checking out your reflection.

“Is it working for you?” You inquire, your eyes finally lifting from the crystal to him. He shrugs, rolling up his sleeves.

“The only thing I see is me sweating.” He comments dryly. You grin.

“I suppose it is a bit silly,” You agree, “I was hoping to at least get a snippet. The Professor was really into it. Thought I give it a genuine go before wanting to throw it out the window.” Your voice turns bitter, “I think my face is going to melt off.” You mumble, pressing your palms onto your red cheeks. “Do you think we could sneak out of here?”

He chokes on fumes, they burning his throat. We.  Plural. Should he be excited, or are you simply nice enough to want to break him out this horrible class and send him on his merry way? After a few contained coughs, and you giving him a sympathetic look, he nods, “I think if someone came close to death or caused a diversion, we could book it.”

“What if I pretended to faint?” Your voice tints with glee, which is a bit morbid but he doesn’t mind. Your eyes twinkle mischievously in the lilac glow, “You could call the Professor and then carry me to the infirmary or something.”

Carry me. He chokes again. Your hands lands on his upper arm, soothing gently, your voice now laced with concern, “Are you alright, Charlie?”

He nods dumbly, “I think I’m allergic to this smoke.”

“Well, if you faint first I will try my hardest to carry you.” You say with a smile. He grins.

“Yea, good luck with that.”

“I know a few handy charms.”

“Use ‘em often?”

“Only when desperate times call for desperate measures.” You look him in the eye, “You ready?”

“Try not to hit your head on your way down.”

“I am hardly that reckless.” You state and he stares at you expectantly, “Yea, alright, I get it, I’ll be careful.”

Just as you are about to start your act, his eyes catch the strange mirage in the crystal. Curious, he peers into it, and his heart skips a beat – in the haziness he manages to recognise his figure and yours, but it is dark and blurry and hard to understand but he thinks that you and he are in a chamber of some sort. He blinks stupidly, alert and uneasy, about to call your name but once he looks up he sees you lifeless leaning off your chair before you fall and knock the crystal off of the table.

The whole class hears you slump  - it is more the clatter the ball makes as it rolls off of the table and onto marble ground – and a series of gasps along with the Professors confused “What happened?” echo in the hot classroom. Charlie is quick to your aid, jumping from his chair and circling around to lift you, “I think she fainted, Professor.” He explains, worried. Soon he has you in his arms. He notes you trying your hardest not to grin, and he has to fight off a smile too. With you safely in his grasp - honestly, light as a feather – he turns to the Professor, “I will take her to the infirmary.”

“Yes, please do…But be back quick!

Yeah, that’s a no, the two of you share the same line of thought. You and Charlie are only coming back long after class is over, and only to get your stuff back.

After a successful mission the two of you were free for the period. He was a tad disturbed of how good you were at this acting thing, but the adrenaline over being your partner-in-crime had taken hold of him and he could do nothing but smile dumbly at every word you said. The two of you lazily spent the period, lounging in the cooler part of the castle and letting exhaustion take hold of you. The air was fresh and crispy and the ground radiated with cold. The two of you had plenty of time to relax, and once conversation was done with, pleasant silence settled. Which got him thinking back to before you gracefully knocked the crystal ball over with your award winning act. About the two of you, venturing alone, in what he presumes is a dangerous and deadly place. Was that a Cursed Vault? Or perhaps a doorway to it, a room that holds a clue to where it might be. You had taken Bill on an adventure…

Will you be taking him, now?

His eyes then found your form, slumped in one of the beanbags, dozing off. A pang of worry had tugged on his heartstring. You must be so tired, he realised, sleepless. He can only imagine what kinds of nightmares you have about your brother. How painful it must be not knowing where he is. He shuddered at the thought of harm coming to one of his siblings. He would be devastated, a complete mess.

For the rest of the period he thought about you, Jacob, and the Cursed Vaults. His resolve to help you all but became stronger.

The meetups between you two were more frequent. He still mostly conversed with you during Care of Magical Creatures, since it was one of the few classes the two of you had together, but now Divination, instead of being the typical annoying class it used to be, was a thoroughly enjoyed joke fest. Your hello’s, ones that, at the very beginning, were bright and energetic, gradually came to be breathless whispers of ‘…Hi’ accompanied by a lovely smile as you met him in a hall or elsewhere.

He fit in perfectly in your group of misfits. And after nearly half a year of growing closer, it was finally time to explore the Cursed Vault hidden somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. The only problem was locating it, but thankfully, Tulip had snooped around and found a chamber that might contain a map. Bill was supposed to accompany you. That idea did not sit well with Charlie. So after thinking it over, the same night his older brother was supposed to meet you in the dungeons, he had caught him in the Common Room.

It was a clear night, starry. It was four in the morning and only ashes left in the fireplace. The Common Room was void of life, just books scattered, pillows lying on the floor, and blankets messily thrown to the side – they were remnants of activity. Charlie called his brother in a raspy, sleep ridden voice, and Bill had nearly jumped out of his skin, already near the portrait.

“Can I go, instead?” Charlie asked. Bill had frowned, about to question why on earth he would want to, but Charlie quickly interjected, “Please.” He mumbled, “You already went with her…Can you just…give me a chance?”

Surprised and a bit reluctant, Bill had agreed.

That’s how it had happened. Of course, when you had gasped seeing Charlie loitering about the dungeons and not Bill, he had explained to you that “Bill’s busy. Completely forgot about the essay he put away for the last day. Woke me up ten minutes ago, to be honest.”

The dungeons are damp, cold, and quiet. Your footsteps echo off of the walls and short ceiling, almost creating vertigo. It’s dark. No light, just a dim glow of the glossy walls. He can’t make out your face, just your silhouette, and even then only after a while of walking in complete darkness. It is a bit eerie. You can’t afford to shine Lumos – that might give you away. If Snape is even anywhere near these parts, he would surely notice the odd change in lighting.

He grows unease by the minute. You are uncharacteristically quiet. Granted, you might just be scared to speak in case of a spy lurking about, but still, not even a comment? Joke? Inquiry? Completely unlike you, and he knows you well enough by now that you are a chatter box that will argue her way into her grave so having you not whispering or giggling is highly disturbing. He figures you are scared. That’s fine’. He is, too.

“Don’t worry.” His voice never grows higher the sound of your soft footsteps, as his hand, clumsily grasps yours in the dark, “I’m here.”

Your fingers intertwine with his firmly, and he feels warmth spread through his whole body, “You were so silent that I forgot.” You murmur. He practically hears you smiling.

The walk to the secret chamber grows ridiculously short. He feels as if he had just gotten used to feeling your small hand in his when, inevitably, he had to let you go. The passage way had opened with a charm that fell from your lips and a spark from your wand. Once the two of you entered, it closed shut behind you, solid as stone and as if never there to begin with.

The room is airy and cool; a familiar lilac glow illuminates the scarce décor and he has to shut his eyes hurriedly as they sting from the sudden change in lighting, Once he adjusts, he is alert and ready to assist you. He finds you immersed in some letters found in a nearby bin.

“This…” You start, eyeing the papers warily, “Might take a while.”

Charlie shrugs with a sympathetic smile, “I’ve got time.” He assures you.

“Up for some light reading?”

“Define light.”

“Thousands of pages.”

“…Can I skim?”

“If you find the map or at least an allusion to it, you can eat these papers for all I care.”

“Don’t say that to Barnaby. He might be tempted.”

He felt emotionally and physically beaten after thirty minutes or so. The letters you had given him were mostly about books and taxes and other boring things alike, and before long he had sat down onto the ground. There are no seats here, after all, and the floor is hardly the most comfortable, but it beats standing. What is more, he is tired, and sleepy, and if it was not for the pinching cold he is reminded of each time he exhales a puff of smoke, he would surely be snoring.

He notes you squirm after a while. You had been sitting next to him, then away, and then close by again, lastly you had laid down, but even then your attempts were futile. It was painful watching you. So ridden with stress, sleep deprivation, and his feelings for you, he had, without even contemplating, suggested that—

“You can sit in my lap.” That promptly woke him up; choked up, he added, “I already carried you…so…it’s like that. Just…I’m sitting. And it’s cold. I could start a fire, though.” He suggests awkwardly, a bright red blush blooming on his freckled cheeks. You simply stare at him, void of words, the letters between your fingers long forgotten. After a pause, he notes you blush like a rose and nod shakily. You pick yourself off of the ground – and the letters that spill from your grasp – and make your way to him. He watches you approach with a racing heart. Merlin, why can’t he be cool and collected like Bill is?!

Your body is like a furnace, heating his frosted fingers and making him smile shyly into your shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist and your back hits his chest. You hurriedly pull the parchment to hide your face, and he wonders can you even read anything from so close. He catches a whiff of your perfume and his heart skips a beat. Really, this was not a good idea. How will he focus now?!

“…Hey…Charlie?” You squeak. He clears his throat.

“Yes, (Name)?”

“You know… The Yule Ball is coming up, and I…wasn’t planning on going, but...” You tilt your head to get a look at him; once your eye meets his, your lips quirk upwards into a lovely smile, “If…you wanted to go…”

“I best get my suit ready, then.” He grins at you, squeezing you closer. With a pleased smile you turn back to the letters, “But…shouldn’t I be the one to ask you?”

“Were you going to?”

“Well…no—“

“My point exactly.”

 BONUS:

The windows are dotted with snowflakes; outside a storm rages over the castle, icy wind howling. A glimpse of it can be caught once doors open. It is usually Hagrid carrying Christmas decorations, or an occasional pine tree.  Festive music echoes in the halls. The students whisper amongst themselves what they will do on holiday, who they will invite to the dance. The atmosphere is sweet and gleeful. Couples in love use the odd mistletoe to smooch and be screamed at by Prefects and teachers alike.

It’s late in the evening and you had just picked up some Potions books from the Library once you ran into Bill. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say he was waiting for you to emerge. You greet him with a smile as you pull the heavy tombs closer to your chest. He returns the grin with a nervous twitch, and falls into step with you. The two of you chat the whole way to the staircase leading to the dungeons, where you stop to give him a quick hug. Once you turn to leave he calls after you, breathless, a question leaving his lips.

“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

You freeze in place. Gulping, a tad saddened to be the bearer of bad news, you look at him helplessly, offering an apologetic smile, “Oh, I’m sorry, Bill…But…Someone already asked me…” You admit, “And I said yes.”

His face crumbles a bit, but he soon glosses over the obvious hurt of rejection with a cheery, “Oh! Well, save me a dance, then. Catch you later?”

“I’m sorry, Bill—“

But he’s already on his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

 requests:  can you do a cute lil charlie weasley x mc?? it can be about anything tbh,, i just love him so much and i adore your writing!!! /  Your “won’t he?” gave me soooo many feelings! In the part 1 I saw you hint (sort of) a Charlie/Reader. I love Charlie since forever, so could you write a OS with him, pretty please? /  HEY ITS ME THE CHARLIE/MC ANON IVE HEAD REQUESTS ARE OPEN gfgfhg so if its really ok to request what about charlie with the biggest crush on mc ( a slytherin girl like in won't he? ) and just. he is such a dork. idek what to write im too excited just plz gimme lovesick charlie fghgh /  OMGGGG YOUR HOWARTS MYSTERY FANFICS ARE SO GOOD ITS JUST..AHH! SO SO CUTE! BUT broke my heart with bill, i do love felix ❤❤❤ but what if you try write a what if bill did tell her how he felt?? or more a one shot where charlie finally got the guts to talk and spend time with mc??? its all so good i cant wait for more! /  Heyyy can you write a Charlie Weasley from hogwarts mystery please? /  can we please get some charlie weasley fics going ? or one shots ? 😩 hphm charlie has me head over heels 😭

forever tags: @scarletraine- @brahwhytho- @smilesfromabove- @pharaohkiller - @victoriaelvendorkweasley-@onehellofdevilotaku- @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy- @phillipas00- @xxcrowfeatherxx- @cupcakestyleshood- @invisibilityrocks- @nephalem67 - @chwechwechwe - @porpentyna - @lesbianheartbreaker - @banjosanjo - @madswheelers - @sombodymaybeawatson - @disneyfanatic77 - @superanonymousreader - @aliypop​ - @slytherinyour-chambers - @onehellofdevilotaku - @victoriaelvendorkweasley - @pharaohkiller - @smilesfromabove - @brahwhytho - @scarletraine

[garbagecann24601]

I was going through some old notebooks and found some real gems.

Look theres a spider craling up that tree.

Look theres a spider apan that girls knee.

Look a spider spinning a web.

Spiders have eight legs.

There’s one craling up your leg.

They eat flys.

They eat moths.

But they don’t have aney claws.

“An Author I must Be”

An author’s the job for me,

An author I must be.

The title page should say this book was made,

By Jayde.

I love to write yes I do.

Do you like writing too?

To write a book,

You just have to look,

In your imagination for the right thing to write.

It might be hard yes it might.

“Diary of Anna Sulfer”

May 9th 1900

Today my mother had her baby. It was a boy named Joshua J. Sulfer. You would think I would be happy but I am not for mother has died.

“Diary of Elizabeth Adams” (silly stories)

The second day of September, 1870

Mother found out she is pregnat today. I do so hope it’s a girl! Father said babies take about six months to fully develop and come out. Mother says I should be happy even if the baby’s a boy. I think we don’t need a boy because we already have Mark, Timothy, Andrew, Paul, Joseph, Caleb, Willie, Marcus, Benjamin, Thomas, Frank, Charlie, Albert, Eddie, Christopher, Peter, Samuel, Levi, Josiah, Edward, Cole, Clark, Lewis, Brad, Austin, Jacob, Jack, Michal, Alexander, Zackery, Amadeous, Ezekiel, David, Isac, Jeremy, Terry, Victor, Matthew, Ted, Luther, Lin, Fredrik, Alfred, Allan, Horace, Arther, Walter, Charles, Colton, Bert, Simion, Ryan, Kyle, Evan, Grant, Paul, James, John, Jesse, Anthony, Pat, Jerimiah, Hezikiah, Malici, Curt, Joe,

“The Lost Rubies”

Mical and Milissa were two twins. Mical was a smart boy who loved science and Millisa on the other hand was always amagining things but she loved history.. Mical and Millisa had solved one mystery before.

On the lovely spring day of May 28, 2000 Mical and Millisa weregoing to a old building. When they drived up Millisa had her amagenation going like crazy. Their father told them about the lost rubies that once belonged to a queen might be in that building.

Mical was talking about how rubies are formed. “And remember don’t touch anything” reminded their father for what seemed like the hundrenth time. “We will we will.” said Millisa and Mical. “Bye dad.” said Millisa. As they entered the building Mical said “This would make a great place to do science explosons!”

“No way! It should be used as a Laura Ingalls memorial sesiety!” exclaimed Millisa. “No way! It should be used as a place you learn about vertabrates and invertebretes.” said Mical. “What are we arguing about?” said Millisa. “Let’s look for the lost rubies.” said Mical. They went upstairs and looked around. “What was that?” whispered Millisa. “What?” asked Mical caususly. “Over there.” said Milllisa pointing. “Woof.” said a dog. “It’s just a dog. And dogs are carnivores.” said Mical. “What’s a carnivore?” asked Millisa. “A meat eating animal.” said Mical. The dog howled. “Michel are you sure this is a dog it’s acting a little wilder.” said Millisa. Michal aproched the dog not knowing what to expect.

“This is defenetly a carnivore look at it’s sharp teeth.” said Mical holding the jaws of a wolf.  “If it’s teeth are so sharp I’d let go.” said Millisa. A light from the lantern they held for there were no electric lights danced from the lantern and Millisa saw fierce eyes looking at her brother, shaggy gray fur fell from his body. “Mical that must be a old dog. It’s furs gray and long.” said Millissa. “Snap.” wen the olfs jaws on Mical’s hand. “Mical!” shouted Millisa. “I’m okay.” said Mical. “Why it’s face.” said Millisa.

“It’s stoped hurting now.” said Mical. “I’m taking my jackknife and cutting it open.” said Mical. “Be careful.” warned Millisa. When Mical cut the fake wolf open they gasped. “The rubies.” said Millisa half speechless nd half imagining her as a royal girl with hundreds of rubies on. 

The MM twins did it again!

The End.

^^These were all from a notebook that I had when I was maybe 7 or 8. The next ones are from Jr High and High School when NO ONE UNDERSTOOD ME 

“Kiss Me Once” (I have **NO** idea what prompted this or who it’s supposed to be about)

Kiss me once, my love.

Kiss me once before you go,

Before your soul soars high above.

Kiss me once, my little pet

For night is drawing to an end

And we shall soon all but forget

This love we shared but no one knew

And which I can scarcely call reality,

But if I can but once kiss you,

My fear will go away,

and all my dreams will then come true

For I shall see that you were more than a dream,

or else, the fairy tales are coming true.

“All Alone” or “The Box” (This one was dated 2-24-12, which means I would have been 14)

I poured my heart into a box

And sealed it with a kiss

I left the box upon my shelf

And nothing was amiss.

And on the days when skies were dark,

When wind and rain and tempest blew

I drew upon my little box

And whispered “I love you.”

And every day my box was safe;

It rested there upon its shelf

And long before I realized why

I had begun to call it “self.”

But one day when I came back home

I missed my little box’s song

And that’s when I began to call

Each thing that I did “wrong.”

For my heart went missing

With my box that disappeared

And life seems so much worse now

Than everything I’ve feared.

For now I see what I have done;

My chest is home to a dark black hole

And all that I now ever feel

Is coldness in my soul.

For I have nothing left.

I am all alone.

(The context for this next one is that I really really hated playing piano, but my parents made me keep taking lessons)

That wretched thing

I’m forced to play

Like a ball and chain

Ties me down today.

That horrid thing

Made my cry

And day after day

I wish it would die

And oh how I long

To worship the King,

But how could I ever

With this foul thing?

No one understands

How this tears me up inside.

They told me I played well,

As I ran and hid and cried.

They don’t notice

The hatred that I feel.

But very deep inside me

The emotions are so real.

“Forever Satisfied”

They threw me into prison

They locked me up in jail

I sat in there forever

‘Cause I couldn’t pay the bail.

They told me to run faster

They told me not to quit.

And though I ran forever

I never did get fit.

I got blisters on my hand

From where the pencil rubbed me wrong,

And though I wrote forever

She condemned it as too long.

I sat and played piano

Then just broke down and cried.

And though I practiced forever,

They were not satisfied.

I tried to fit in with them.

I tried to be their friend.

And though I was with them forever,

I was rejected in the end.

Then one day I stopped breathing.

I had up and died.

And I was with Jesus forever.

Forever satisfied.

“Why Did You Lie?” (I wrote this my freshman year of high school about a senior who in no way ever promised me anything)

Why did you lie?

You promised not to leave

You promised me forever.

You promised me a bond

That time could not sever.

But now you ever see me.

You never look my way

And now I see the other one.

The one you love today.

Is this all my fault?

Now I’m lonely and afraid.

You promised me your love

But the promise never stayed.

I thought we had a future

I hoped that this was real.

But whatever I thought I felt

Was too good for you to feel.

For your heart is cold and hard as ice

Your chest is a deep hole.

And I see myself as I am

The fool whose heart you stole.

(I think I wrote this one when my sister graduated high school and was preparing to move away to college)

And I fade into the wall.

There’s nothing much to look at.

There’s nothing there at all.

You’re going on a journey,

And I’m saying here behind.

You’re in for an adventure,

Who knows what you may find.

Your life is changing,

But mine isn’t at all.

I’m the phantom in the shadows,

And I blend into the wall.

You talk about your leaving

And your following your call.

And my heart is quickly breaking

In the darkness of its fall.

“Black. White” (Warning: This one is quite angsty, touching on themes of self harm and suicide, and then very religious)

I AM BLACK

I am shadows in the night.

I am nothing by day.

Hatred and bitterness spew out of my heart and cut others.

I made my mother cry. Again.

I really didn’t mean to. A careless word. Insensitivity. I didn’t know.

Now I feel invisible. Obscure. despicable. Like a spot on a bright white shirt.

A mistake. A misunderstanding. A vain struggle to survive.

Why aren’t I dead?

I’m sure my bad outweighs my good. I should burn. I should bleed. I should pay.

My world feels cold and empty now.

No more tears. No colors. No smiles.

I am the absence of light. I repel it. It hides from my face.

Even it thinks I’m hopeless.

I am a sinner.

I am black.

I have a Savior.

He is white.

He is the morning star.

He is the sweet breath of life.

His heart is full of love and kindness and compassion for others.

He paid the penalty for all my sin.

He really didn’t have to. The world hated Him. Rejected. Few cared.

He became mortal. human. weak. needy. Like one of us, but

Perfect. Spotless. Beautiful. Lamb of God.

And yet He died.

He had done no wrong. He should be praised. magnified. exalted.

He created the world and filled it with life.

He shed His blood. He paid my ransom. He died.

He is light. The grave could not hold Him. Darkness shudders.

Even nature screams His praises.

He is my Savior.

He makes me white.

[marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches]

Oh my goodness, I didnt see the link to your fanfic account! I am dumb. So ignore my previous ask and instead answer this one for the meme. 13, 3, 14, 1 and 2 for Happiness goes on? (I shall leave reviews on your beautiful fanfic soon I promise, they are good.)

(Hiii, sooo…this whole reply is late because I actually typed up ALL OF THIS last night, and then accidentally “x”-ed out of my browser and lost it all, because I am very very stupid. And then was too tired to retype it up before going to sleep. I hope I remember roughly everything, and apologies for that mistake.)

Oh! Haha! Alright then! Thank you! Don’t feel dumb at all for not realizing which AO3 account is mine or for your previous ask(which for others who are curious, said: “1 - 5 for all your fics! Just talk about your favs!”). I was prepared to choose 3 fics (including “Happiness Goes On” since that’s definitely the one I’m most proud of, so I guess that’s closest to a “favorite” right?), and go through the first 5 questions for each, though I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t have taken some time to answer.

BUUUT…since you said to scrap that first ask, I’ll answer these individual ones for “Happiness Goes On.” And your compliment and promise for a future review means SO goddamn much, thank you sincerely.

(WARNING / REMINDER: This is about my fic that deals with the subject of child molestation, and I do reference that a little bit in this reply. Don’t read further if it makes you uncomfortable, which I entirely understand and respect.)

**********

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

HA! Well, American Pie obviously, for a majority of it. While brainstorming / writing / editing the epilogue? A lotta Billy Joel. ;)

The idea to use American Pie bounced into my brain when it came on the radio at the thrift shop where I volunteer, one of the rare times my own music speaker battery died. Usually a disaster, because our store radio is pretty crappy, but the sound quality wasn’t too bad that day, and I rediscovered how much I love that song and ‘Why isn’t this on my ipod again?’. Listening to the lyrics, I realized how much some of them fit the Guardians in general, and this story specifically, which I have Gamora mentally note in the fic. I was sitting and casually chatting with the manager while also thinking, ‘Google what year this came out when you get home, but I’m sure it’s the 70′s. Peter would know it, and it could be the Zune. I think it could work.’ I’m proud that I was able to reference the song so many times without actually naming it by title, but I assume most readers knew what it was, it’s just that famous. (I also couldn’t resist the light-hearted joke, later when things calmed down, of Gamora saying “This…is the longest song…I have ever heard.” and Peter smiling without even looking at her and giving a cheeky “I know.”)

In terms of using Billy Joel for the epilogue, I’m just a Billy Joel fanatic. The use of him for this story began just from the We Didn’t Start the Fire joke toward Rocket at the bar (I thought it was clever, Peter!), and later on I saw how The Longest Time fit romantically for Starmora, and some of the lyrics matched the healing themes of the overall story, and I thought ‘Maybe they’ve been playing BIlly Joel since that night; maybe that can be the joke.’ Why shouldn’t his Greatest Hits albums (at least) be on the Zune? I struggled a lot over what song should be the final one Gamora comments on before they switch artists to appease the group. I never specify which romantic Billy Joel song Peter and Gamora slow danced to during their “date night” in that six-week summary, but I like to imagine it was Just the Way You Are. I considered Keeping the Faith or Vienna for the final one, but I thought they deserved something more fun and naughty to analyze this time, so Only the Good Die Young it is. :D

In conclusion, I listened to The Longest Time, and the entire An Innocent Man studio album, a lot (as if I needed an excuse).3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

The portion in italics is my favorite line, but I’m including the entire sentence for context purposes: “She would need to grow used to him viewing Yondu as a caring parent who was extraordinarily protective of his boy, and would have hunted down this pervert to whistle a glowing arrow through her skull.”14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Ohh geez, wow, that one is tough. I don’t know if it’s accurate to say this story was intended to educate, but just to explore the idea with fictional characters. I have no expertise on the subject, and would never claim such, or talk down to those who do. I didn’t intend to create a PSA. I suppose all of the “lessons” for Peter (if they can be called that) I hope all readers already know and agree on (basically a collection of “it wasn’t your fault” and “this doesn’t define you” and “trauma isn’t a competition, someone else suffering worse doesn’t invalidate your experience” and “you should feel comfortable talking about anything without judgement or shame” etc.).

Slightly lesser scale messages, there’s also reminders about the importance of communication, trusting each other, letting the other person speak in an argument, not letting one’s jealousy/instincts/bad mood interfere with fairness, not running away from a fight or staying angry, respecting boundaries and privacy, all that healthy relationship jazz that these two are still figuring out. 1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

This post is already very long, and I could probably talk for hours about the decision-making process for many scenes (of my GotG fics, this took the longest to write and publish, over 2 months), so I’ll try to condense this to a few bullet points that probably don’t fit the “inspired” criteria.

- It was originally going to be in two parts, 4 scenes each, when I thought the epilogue would be much shorter. But as the lil’ wrap-up got longer (because we needed a fluffy conclusion, dammit!), I decided to make it a separate “chapter.”

- I think the concept probably started as one of those strange, angsty “what if?” scenarios I make up in my head at night that I still can’t believe I created into a full-fledged work. I liked the idea of Peter and Gamora having this conversation and her comforting him, but I knew if I was really going to throw it out there for other fans, it had be more balanced with happier moments, too. I just know I was always going to make the offender a woman - both because it would lead to the misunderstanding that she was a past consensual hook-up when Peter was an adult to spark some irritation and jealousy in Gamora, and because it’s realistically different from other sexual assault stories, since women can be pedophiles and child predators too, and they’re just as horrible. :(

- The fanfic idea of “Gamora accidentally starts a fire while trying to cook, and Peter falsely accuses and lashes out at Rocket” was in my head before, but there were two key differences. 1) It was the entire plot, not a light-hearted subplot in the shadows of something bigger, 2) Meredith’s letter was either fully or partially burnt as a result of the fire. By the end Gamora was going to confess it was her fault, that she was trying to surprise Peter by cooking spaghetti, and he would apologize both to her and to Rocket for losing his temper and getting so angry. I hated that idea later and found it too sad (he’s already lost the Walkman and second cassette tape, why would I want him to lose even more from his mother?), and in “Spark My Memory” (the Christmas fic I wrote for “12 Days of Starmora”) the Guardians put his mother’s letter in the photo album gift for Peter, completely safe and unharmed. I like to keep all my fanfics canon-compliant and non-contradictory from each other, so the letter is fine, no burning it.

Yet “Gamora started a fire cooking” still seemed fun to me, as I like the idea that she’s so badass and skilled and intelligent, but failed at something so domestic and simple. Kinda cute. I was so excited to insert it into this, because I think it worked on multiple levels. It’s a driving force for the plot (the reason the team go to the restaurant and they stumble upon that particular waitress), the reason Gamora was already in a bad mood during her fight with Peter, it could be used as a metaphor/comparison for Peter’s anxiety and Gamora’s guilt, it was something for the Guardians to put at a higher priority to tease and mock Gamora for while oblivious to the main story, something for Peter to just break down into giggles over once they changed the subject (because he earned a good laugh after that heartbreaking and vulnerable childhood trauma story), an excuse to give Rocket so many funny lines, an overall silly and sitcommy-style subplot to fall back on, and a sweet “victory!” for Gamora to have (sort of?) conquered by the epilogue. ^_^2: What scene did you first put down?

This is easy. I’ve written all but one (8 out of 9) of my fanfics in order, except for “Just Like Everybody Else.” So ya, I wrote the opening scene first, Baby Groot’s magic trick lesson and Peter’s oh-so-cruel “can only be seen once” deception. I needed to ease readers (and myself) into the angst and heavy shit to follow, and that cute idea had also been in the back of my mind for a while. ^_^

**********

PHEW, OKAY, ALL RE-TYPED! Thank you again SO MUCH for the lovely ask and wonderful questions, your actual interest and curiosity thrilled me! You see I wasn’t kidding about the incessant babbling. :P

Thank you also for the kudos you left on AO3, and take care!~

[itswhatimreallythinking]

My boyfriend can't be this cute (guidelines to dating Lance McClain)

My gift to @tamaraneankori. Merry Christmas to you girl (hope it’s still christmas at you place). You ask for a fluffy fic and this is the sweetest thing I ever written. It came out longer than I expected (happens to all my fic actually) but I had so much fun writing this. Hope it lives up to your expectation.  

@klance2017secretsanta

AO3

Summary: Keith have a cute boyfriend

A.K.A Keith’s constant dilemma of battling his raging hormones while his boyfriend remain oblivious

A.K.A Keith is doomed

From the first moment, he laid eyes on the blue-eyed boy across the campus ground Keith knows he was doomed. From tantalizing caramel skin to a dazzling smile, and sparkling eyes that he wants to keep looking into for the rest of his life, Keith had fallen hard.

 And the worst part is the boy, Lance McClain, have no freaking idea.

 Despite his flirty words and affectionate behavior, Lance is actually very dense when it comes to people’s affection towards himself.

 Many times, Keith just want to forgo all the courting (that all went unnoticed) and kiss the Cuban till he gets the memo. If Hunk didn’t constantly remind him that Lance like romantic gesture he might do just that. It’s not easy though. From the number of times Pidge came close to ripping her hair off, he guessed that she too is close to saying fuck it and shove both of them into a locked room.

 So, it’s understandable when he believes that Hunk is sent from heaven to be his impulse control and the best wingman ever. Without him Keith would have bombed this a long time ago.

 But he didn’t.

 After months of pining and extreme courting, (he once brave a snowstorm to get Lance McDonald’s because he happens to mention in the group text that he have a sudden craving, even Pidge was impressed) Lance finally get the message and reciprocate his feelings.

 It was the best day of his life.

 Yes, Shiro, it’s better than the day the papers finally went through and they really became a real family. Stop looking at him like that. Go complain to someone who cares. Who? Oh, he don’t know, Allura maybe? Of course, he’s still mad. His ‘brother’ decide to ditched his birthday party because he rather ‘Netflix and chill’ with his girlfriend for god sake. DON’T TOUCH ME!

 Anyway, that day was the best day of his life, but also the start of his unending dilemma. He’s not sure he’s going to live past 50 if this continues. Not with the constant spike in blood pressure and head trauma.

 Being friends allow Keith to spent time with the Cuban, while this is good it’s not enough. Keith always wants more. They said to be careful of what you wish for and only now did he come to fully understands that saying. Because, if he thought Lance was cute while being his friend he is so not ready for the level that is of the boyfriend.

 He can’t count how many times he bangs his head against hard surface just to keep his emotions under control.

 Thus to save himself from early demise he constructs up a list of guidelines that will (somewhat) make his life as Lance’s boyfriend (and to be the best boyfriend ever) a little easier.

 #1 Be more open-minded

He had said this many times. Lance is gorgeous. Anyone who disagrees can fight him on that. Even Pidge once admit it to them in secret (and also threaten them with a lifetime of suffering if anyone as much as hint it to the Cuban). So it’s quite understandable when someone tries to make a move on his boyfriend.

 More than once that Lance’s friendliness got taken out of context as an invitation to sweep the Cuban off his feet. Now that will not do. Sweeping Lance off his feet, literally and figuratively, is Keith’s job.

 He’d hold his tongue when they were still friends but now he’s not going to let it slide. Many times it became a fist fight (if they’re a guy and of course he always wins) because talking doesn’t work with these people.

 Lance always gave him an earful while tending to the cuts and bruises, asking why he feels the need to start a fight, that he was never like this before. He keeps mum during all of it but after months of coaxing and disappointed looks, he cracked.

 “Because you’re you and I’m me that’s why.” The answer rendered the brunette speechless and Keith to gather himself for a bit to soldier on.

 “Lance do you realized how amazing you are? You… you’re beautiful and smart and friendly and hundreds of other positive traits. I’m unsocial and hot-headed and…and I still don’t understand why you agreed to go out with me.” Lance stared at him with a blank look on his face, Keith turned his head away. “When I saw those guys, with their slick hair and perfect teeth…and money to spoil you the way you deserved. I just felt so threatened, so scared, that you would suddenly realize that you can do a lot better than me and-”

 “Leave?”

 Even if that what he’s about to say hearing it coming from Lance’s mouth made his heart dropped to his feet. He heard the brunette heave a tired sigh and he grinds his teeth. He really shouldn’t say all that, now Lance will know what a loser he is. A sharp flick to his forehead made him yelp in surprise. Looking up he was met with a murderous glare. Lance is furious.

 “I could not believe what you just said,” the words were drawn out in a snarl that reminds Keith of a predator. The Cuban got right up in his face, their nose touching, “you see me that shallow? That a pocket full of money and a few nice words could lure me away?”

 “NO! I would never. It’s just that…”

 Lance pinched the bridge of his nose, muttered a few words in Spanish, and if Keith has ears they’d be drooping right now.

 He didn’t hear Lance take a huge calming breath but he did feel it when two warm hands cradled his face and then he’s looking into a pair of deep azure eyes.

 “Now you listen to me Keith,” gone were the terrifying snarl replace with a voice so soft his heart shuddered in his chest. “To me, you’re the most passionate and loyal person I’ve ever met. You’re kind-hearted and so strong, and may God have mercy on those who dared lay a finger on any of us because I know you will do whatever it takes to protect us. You have no idea how happy I am when I know you love me too.” Keith’s breath hitched when Lance lay his forehead against his, looking at him so adoringly it makes him want to cry.

 “I love you so much, Keith. I want us to be together for the rest of my life and I hope you feel the same way.”

 Instead of a verbal answer, Keith pulled Lance in for a kiss, desperate and sweet and full of promises. When they part Lance give him a soft smile before gaining a serious look. “I don’t know where you get those silly notions about yourself from. So, I need you to write down all the names of every person who ever made you feel that way so that I can have a private chat with each of them.”

 Keith burst out laughing.

 After that, whenever he saw someone flirting with his boyfriend he would step up beside the brunette and laced their fingers together. If that is not enough to drive them away the kiss (tongue included) usually does.

 #2 Accept that you will always come after Hunk

Halfway through the second year of college, they decide to move in together. By moving in he means moving into the recently available room across from Lance’s old one that he shared with Hunk. Shay is replacing Lance next semester when her contract expires.

 They were in the middle of unpacking (mostly his stuff since Lance just has to carry his from across the hall) when the Cuban's phone rang. He was not paying attention but after hearing the sound of the phone hitting the floor and seeing Lance’s devastated face, Keith wished he did.

 Hunk was involved in a hit and run case. Thank god the other party was a motorcycle. The Hawaiian got a concussion, twisted ankle, a broken arm and dozens of cuts and bruises. But he was fine. The smile he gave them the moment Lance burst into the room is proof enough. Lance has to refrain from jumping from sheer relief.

 Hunk has to stay in the hospital for another 3-4 days to make sure that nothing is critical. Lance demand he be allowed to stay with him. Hunk also begs the doctor to let him stay.

 He shared a look with Shay then. The large Samoan girl had known them longer than he does and was the one who constantly assured him that there is absolutely nothing going on between Hunk and Lance. They’re just really really close.

 He looks at Lance smoothing down Hunk’s hair who’s giving a sweet smile and have to bite his tongue. Shay has been doing this far longer than him. If she can then he can too.

 After Lance grabbed his stuff and leave for the hospital again, Keith is left alone to looked around at the messy room. More than half of the boxes were still unopened and he couldn’t be bothered to continue. It’s not moving in together if he’s the only one unpacking.

 He has a quick late dinner and went to bed. Before he can drift off his phone rang.

 “Hey, mi amore, you’re asleep yet?” Lance's face is illuminated by the light of the screen while Hunk snores softly in the background. Keith smile tiredly and they spent their first night together apart, talking till he fell asleep at the phone.

 Lance called 5-7 time a day, once in the morning, once before going to bed and anytime in between. Whenever his thought drifted to the messy room (boxes still at the same place where he left them) his phone will be blowing up with messages from Lance saying how much he missed him. With the hospital visits, constant phone calls and text, Keith didn’t have the time to be lonely.

 The day Hunk was released Keith came home to a candlelit room and homemade dinner. Seeing the brunette standing in their room again made everything right with the world. After dinner, Lance took him by the hand and led him to their bedroom.

 The sight of caramel skin scantily clad in delicate white lace undergarment made it suddenly hard to breathe.

 “How about we start breaking in the bed,” voice dripping like honey with kisses just as sweet, Keith lost himself in Lance.

 Yes, he thought, that is an excellent idea.

 #3 Ignore the morning complaints

With his sunny personality, one would think Lance is a morning person. Oh, how wrong they were. A morning Lance is a cranky Lance and you don’t want to approach him before he has his morning coffee.

 Keith untangles himself from the bundle of blankets and clinging long limbs. He drowsily stretches out his body and drops a kiss on his still sleeping boyfriend’s cheek before making his way to the bathroom.

 Lance was just stumbling into the bathroom when he got out of the shower. The other was wearing the same pair of sweatpants he was wearing yesterday. Well, he was wearing it before Keith decide that he look better without it. Bite and kiss marks littered tanned body, couple that with tousled hair and a slight limp in his steps, Lance looked thoroughly fucked.

 “Wipe that smug look off your face Kogane”, Lance spit out venomously, “this is all because of you.”

 If this was half a year ago Keith would have been hurt. Now, he took it in stride.

 “You weren’t complaining last night”, he invaded Lance personal space, “or do I have to remind you.” He blew teasingly into the Cuban’s ear and quickly move away to avoid the other’s hand from swatting him like a fly.

 “Get away from me!” The Korean barked out a laugh and walk out of the bathroom. He searched around in the closet with Lane still going on in the background.

 “Look at all these marks, and after I told you to go lightly on the neck because I have a presentation today. I can’t cover all these with make-up. Now I have to wear a turtleneck, in summer. Who wears a freaking turtleneck in the summer? A douche that’s who. I’m going to look like Steve fucking Jobs trying to sell an iPhone.”

 Keith laughs at the last comment. Pulling a shirt over his head he realized that Lance had gone quiet. He moved to a blind spot the mirror can’t reflect and peek inside.

 Lance is staring at himself in the mirror with a soft smile on his lips. Fingers lightly tracing the marks Keith left behind from one to the other with a look of utter fondness in his eyes.

 Is someone screaming? He’s definitely hearing screaming. Oh never mind, that’s just him. Screaming. Internally. BECAUSE HIS BOYFRIEND IS FUCKING ADORABLE!

 Keith felt the blood rushing to his face…and the lower region.

 Maybe if they’re real quick? No no no nope. Lance would kill him if his perfect attendance is ruined because Keith can’t keep it in his pants. He took a couple of calming breaths and announce that he’ll be outside making breakfast.

 “Bacon and sunny side up for me, please. Love you.”

 DAMMIT LANCE! YOU’RE MAKING THIS REALLY HARD.

 #4 Always have an extra set of contacts at hand

“Aww, I’ve run out of contacts.”

 That was the comment that turned Keith’s normal weekend into a nightmare. He poked his head into their bedroom to see Lance rummaging in his side of the bed nightstand drawer. He walked closer to see if there’s anything he could do to help.

 “AH HAH!” Keith's mouth went dry when Lance plopped a pair of glasses on his nose. Of course, Lance has a pair of emergency glasses, anyone who wears contacts does, it’s only common sense. But, damn, why is it getting hot in here?

 Since they planned to stay in and study for the upcoming exam week, they postponed the contact lens shopping to this evening when they go out for dinner instead of now. Sitting on opposite end of the dining table, books and pens scattered messily on the surface, they lost themselves in their reading.

 Actually, it’s only Lance who’s reading.

 Keith is busy gawking at his boyfriend.

 The more he stared the wilder his imagination became.

 Lance is an honored student who got roped into tutoring the delinquent Keith after class. They’re going over everything Keith learned that day. Lance was patient while Keith kept getting angrier at his own failure.

 “This is useless. I’m never going to get it, you should stop wasting your time with me.” Keith sulked in his seat while Lance looks at him calculatingly. The honored student’s glasses flash as he got up and got right in Keith’s face. The Cuban’s arm was on either side of his chair caging him in. The sharp glint that Keith had never seen in the good-natured boy’s eyes before sent a jolt of electric down his spine.

 “How about we try a different method,” Lance whispered against his lips before closing the distance. The kiss was hot and wild and ended quicker than he would have like. Chasing after the departing lips a finger stopped him in his track.

 “Ah, ah,” the Cuban said in a sing-song voice, “only if you get the next question right.”

 Lance sneezed and Keith snapped out of his daydream. Lance smile sheepishly at him and he quickly looks down not wanting him to see the blush on his face. Keith can only get a paragraph in when he turns the page and saw a picture of a team of doctors on the other side.

 Lance is a doctor and the owner of a small clinic. Keith is a police officer who often comes in to have Lance take care of his wounds of the day.

 It was after midnight when Keith stumble into the facility with blood down his arms. Lance's face paled and he orders the officer to sit down on the bed while he rushed around gathering supplies, mouth complaining all the while.

 “He was holding a knife to the woman’s throat. What do you suggest me do then?”

 “Not offering yourself as a substitute would be the first step.” The doctor bites out harshly and Keith let it slide because he knows Lance was only worried about him. He took off his shirt as instructed and shiver when the cold air made contact with his skin. He bites down the hiss at each pierced of the needle just to keep the doctor from frowning any deeper.

 When the cut was stitched and wrapped up nicely Lance dip down to kiss tenderly at the bandages. Keith’s heart melts at the sight. His breath hitched when those lips glided up to mouthed at the old scar on his collarbone as he's pushed down onto the bed.

 “That one and this too. All because you have to be a hero. Coming here with blood all over yourself, always threatening to kill me with a heart attack.”

 “Sorry,” his take in a shuddering breath when the brunettes bite at his neck.

 Lance climb on top on him and settle himself on his stomach, pants gone leaving him in only his briefs. Keith wants nothing more than to run his hands down those smooth thighs.

 “Nope. It won’t heal if you keep moving it.” Lance hold down his wrist gently as he looks down at Keith. Hooded eyes from behind the glasses met his own hungry ones.

 “Now be a good boy and lay still while I punished you for scaring me.”

 The doctor grinds down on his crotch and Keith shiver in anticipation.

 A sharp cold against his cheek abruptly ended his fantasy. Lance smiled at him cheekily eyes dancing with mirth from behind those damned glasses.

 “Here”, the brunette hand him a can of soda before popping his own. Tanned fingers caressed his shirt, looking him up and down appreciatively. Lance did buy it for him after all.

 “It suits you.”

 Suits

 Lance and Keith are high profile lawyers working for a different firm who often handle the same case. This time Keith is the defender while Lance is the prosecutor, both going neck-to-neck, not backing down an inch.

 Keith can’t remember how he ends up sprawl on the bed underneath Lance but he’s not complaining.

 The Cuban looks downright sexy in that form-fitting deep navy suits that accentuate his eyes behind those clear frames. One tanned hand combing through soft brown strands while another slowly pulled off the tie. Keith swallowed thickly. His eyes follow as pink tongue dart out to lick their owner’s lips seductively.

 Lance give him a vicious grin promising one hell of a good time, “you’ve been a very naughty boy, Keith.”

 Keith slammed his head on the table making Lance leaped away in surprised.

 Shit

 This is serious

 Also, why the hell is he always the bad one in those scenarios? Is he developing a new kink? Fuck, he is, isn’t he?

 “What the hell Keith!? Are you alright?” Lance is frantically checking his forehead (ow that hurts, he shouldn’t have done that). The close proximity with Glasses Lance makes him take a sharp breath. Before his brain can conjure up another fantasy he quickly dragged Lance towards the door.

 “Hey! What-where are we going? Keith!”

 “Contacts shopping. NOW!”

 #5 Endure the scratches

Lance is a scratcher. Whenever the Cuban is on the receiving end Keith will come out looking like he’s been in a fight with a vicious cat. Long thin red lines will adorn his back for days stinging irritatingly whenever he got sweaty.

 So, for the sake of trying out new stuff, Lance suggests they use handcuffs.

 Keith didn’t know he has a bondage kink until he saw his boyfriend naked and cuffed to the bedpost. The sight of the brunette writhing on the bed stir up something primal within him. That night he couldn’t get enough on Lance. Not that he ever had enough but that night was on a whole other level.

 Keith went to sleep thoroughly satisfied not noticing that Lance was less vocal than normal.

 He was eager to go again the next day. The thought of his restraint boyfriend plaguing him throughout the day. They barely made it to the bed before Keith was ripping off his clothes and Lance’s.

 He let out a blissful groan when he finally gets to enter the Cuban, but somehow he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was missing. A sniffle pulled him out of his thought and his heart dropped when he saw tears running down Lance’s face.

 “No”, the brunette whimpered and fear grip at his heart.

 He hurt Lance

 He wants to die right now

 Keith quickly gets off him and tears spring to his eyes when he sees Lance weakly tugging at the restraint.

 “Lance,” he choked out past the lump in his throat, “baby, I’m so sorry.” He unlocked the cuffs and the brunette throw himself into Keith’s arms holding on tightly. Keith hugged back just as fierce, head burying in the crook of Lance’s shoulder, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Lance.”

 He felt the brunette shook his head, “no, you didn’t hurt me. It just…” Lance pushed away from him but Keith holds on tight not allowing the brunette to go far. “When I have that thing on, I can’t touch you.” He nuzzled Keith’s nose, “you’re right there but I feel so far away. I don’t like that.”

 “Then we’ll stop using it.” He kisses at the red mark on the brunette’s wrist apologetically.

 “But you like those handcuffs.”

 “Not enough to make you cry.” He lay the hand on his cheek nuzzling into it, “nothing is worth making you cry for.”

 Lance’s tears come back anew and his heart clenched, “I’m sorry Lance, please stop crying.” He kissed away the tears at the corner of those blue eyes he loves so much, “I never know what to do when you cry.”

 Their lips meet in a soft kiss, so sweet and loving and everything Keith wanted. When they joined together again as one, with Lance’s arms clinging to him, he finally understands what was missing. This is what missing. This connection, this intimacy, they always have when making love.

 His back is full of scratches again, but with Lance laying soft kisses on each one as an apology, Keith realized he don’t mind.

 #6 –

 “KEITH!” The owner of the name came back to his senses and look at the boy sitting beside him. Oh, they’re on a date right now, aren’t they? Keith kicked himself mentally. Before he could apologize Lance was already resting his forehead against his, looking at him with worried eyes. His heart hammered in his chest.

 “You’re a bit warm and you look kind of dazed. Let’s go home, we can do this another day.” The brunette tugged at his hand for him to stand up. Keith wants to protest, but after a bit of contemplation, decide against it. Who is he to say no to having Lance fuzzing over him. Also, if he plays his card right he’ll get to monopolized his boyfriend for the whole weekend. Now isn’t that a thought.

 Making their way home Keith lift up their joint and to lay a kiss on the back of Lance’s. The Cuban looked back at him with a fond smile, soft red splayed across his face.

 Keith fell in love all over again.

 He understands long ago that Lance is dangerous. Deadly so. He’s a lethal weapon tailored to bring Keith to his knees with only a smile. Trapping Keith within his blue eyes with no means of escape and he loves it. Lance could ask him for the moon and he swears he’ll find a way to give it to the brunette.

 Keith smiles happily as he watches his boyfriend flitted around the room, gathering blankets and pillows and piling it around him creating a comfortable nest on the sofa. He took hold of the bronzed wrist before its owner can disappear into the kitchen. He tugged lightly and Lance yelp as he falls into Keith’s waiting arms.

 Their lips gravitate towards each other. Languid and soft, he carefully pours his feelings into the kiss, and the next, and the one after that as well. He scoots closer to the backrest and Lance climb in beside him without protest. Smiling exasperatedly the brunette open up his arms and Keith tuck himself into them. He breathes the smell of Lance in deeply into his lungs and felt himself relax.

 “You’re spoilt. I’m spoiling you.” The Cuban lament half-heartedly as he lay soft kisses along the milky temple. Keith agreed by trailing kisses along the column of bronzed-colored throat, making pearls of laughter spill forth from Lance’s mouth.

 Listening to that wonderful sound while being encased in Lance’s arms Keith wondered if this is what happiness feels like.

 Yes

 It definitely is

[keanuital]

John Wick solidified Keanu Reeves as one of the greatest action stars of all time

With A History Of Violence, Tom Breihan picks the most important action movie of every year, starting with the genre’s birth and moving right up to whatever Vin Diesel’s doing this very minute.

John Wick (2014)

In the entire history of American action cinema, there are very, very few movies that take their fight scenes as seriously as John Wick does. Some of the action set pieces in John Wick—the home invasion, the one-man nightclub siege—are straight-up masterpieces, and the movie never lingers long between these exquisitely crafted depictions of mayhem. But my favorite scene in the movie isn’t a fight. It’s the part where Viggo, the movie’s lead Russian gangster, has to tell his son just how badly he’d fucked up. Viggo’s boy, Iosef, has broken into the home of a “fucking nobody.” He’s killed the man’s dog, stolen his car, and left him unconscious. Viggo, played by the late Swedish actor Michael Nyqvist, doesn’t mind any of this. He just minds that Iosef did all this to the wrong guy.

Carefully and patiently, Viggo tells Iosef that he and his associates used to call John Wick, that nobody, baba yaga—the bogeyman. And then he continues, “John wasn’t exactly the bogeyman.” Dramatic pause. “He was the one you send to kill the fucking bogeyman.” A moment later, as that sinks in: “I once saw him kill three men in a bar with a pencil. A fucking. Pencil.”

That scene comes before any of the movie’s fights, and it tells us a whole lot of things we need to know. It tells us that Wick is an absolute avenging angel of death, of course, and it gives us context for the life that he left behind when he fell in love and got married. But that scene also tells us what kind of movie we’re watching. It’s a movie that takes place in its own universe, that leaves behind any notion of realism or naturalism. It tells us that we are watching myths and archetypes, that the movie is going to be a sort of tone-poem homage to history’s great bleak, existentialist action movies. It tells us that directors Chad Stahelski and David Leitch know their Melville and their Woo. The first time I watched John Wick, I spent that entire scene cackling with glee. That scene promised a lot, and the movie paid off on it.

I have to imagine that the person who greenlit John Wick thought he’d be getting another Taken clone; 2014 was the era of the Taken clone. A few years earlier, Liam Neeson had revitalized his career by playing a leathery, regretful death-dealer in a cheap, unpretentious B-movie, and other aging movie stars were trying to do the same with theirs. Denzel Washington made The Equalizer. Sean Penn made The Gunman. John Wick, originally titled Scorn, could’ve turned out to be one of those.

Instead, John Wick turned out to be a whole new mold: a sleek, stylish, and deeply silly studio B-movie that takes place in its own fully realized world. And after years of choppy, illegible Hollywood action scenes, it revived the visceral beauty of a well-shot, well-choreographed fight, succeeding in making Keanu Reeves look like an absolutely unstoppable killing machine. These days, people aren’t making their own Takenknockoffs anymore. They’re more likely to make John Wick clones, like Ben Affleck in The Accountant, say, or Charlize Theron in Atomic Blonde. That’s a good thing. The John Wick clones have been way better than the Takenclones.

In some ways, John Wick was a very familiar movie. Over the years, we’ve seen a lot of quiet, soulful, and well-dressed hitmen pulled back into the killing game by tragedy, forced to eliminate their old bosses. We’ve seen a lot of broken loners going on quests of revenge after seeing their families die. We’ve seen badasses so cold that they take out entire armies of anonymous cannon-fodder types. We’ve seen underworld stories in which the police barely even seem to exist. John Wick is, in a lot of ways, a traditional action movie, one that works very much within the rules and structures of the genre.

But in other ways, John Wick is a strange statement of a movie—one that takes all those tropes and makes them as weird and otherworldly as possible. For one thing, when John Wick goes to war with the Russian mob of New York, he’s not avenging any actual people. Instead, he’s avenging the death of a dog, an adorable puppy gifted to him by his dead wife. Iosef insists, over and over, that it was just a dog, as if this is going to help him in any way. It’s a beautiful little subversion of an old revenge-movie trope. People hate seeing dogs die in movies, so we’re spared the usual Death Wish-style scene of rape and murder. Even the dog dies offscreen. Instead, we get to skip straight to the revenge. And the movie knows it’s absurd for Wick to be killing dozens of people to avenge a dog that he’d only had for, what, a day? But it works on a couple of levels. At one point, Wick says that the dog represented all the hope he had left in the world, telling us that that’s what sent him off on that killing spree. So it’s an effective story device. But it’s also a grand cosmic joke. Because after all, it was just a fucking dog.

Taking this simple and unreal pretense as its starting point, the movie builds an entire world. This is a universe full of hitmen. There are so many, in fact, that they have their own hotel, a place where any actual killing is expressly forbidden. That’s one of the rules of this hitman world that everyone understands. Another is that everyone is supposed to pay for stuff in gold coins. Even the police seem to know what’s going on. At one point, a cop comes to Wick’s door and sees a body lying on the floor behind him. His response: “You, uh, working again?” Wick: “No, just sorting some stuff out.” That’s good enough for the cop, who backs right out. John Wick: Chapter Two, the movie’s 2017 sequel, builds on all of this and turns it into something even more gloriously alien. But it’s all there in the first movie—a violent hidden world, right under our noses.

A year before starring in John Wick, Keanu Reeves went to Hong Kong and China to make his directorial debut. Man Of Tai Chi isn’t what you might expect from the moment that an aging movie star steps behind the camera. Instead, it’s a great little underground-fighting movie, one made with a slightly incoherent plot and a great respect for fight choreography. The movie almost makes more sense as a collection of fight scenes than as a traditional narrative. It’s mostly in Chinese, but Reeves himself plays the villain, a glowering evil American billionaire who makes people fight to the death. And he made the whole thing as a vehicle for Tiger Chen, a Chinese martial artist who’d been one of the fight choreographers for The Matrix.

Man Of Tai Chi was, for me, the moment that Reeves became an all-time elite action star. He’d already had a surprising number of classic action movies on his résumé: Point Break, Speed, the Matrix movies. He’d done many of his own stunts in Speed and trained hard in wire-fu for The Matrix. But I’d always thought of him as an actor who sometimes did action movies, not as a straight-up action star. Man Of Tai Chi revealed Reeves to be something else: someone so in love with the genre that he’d make a labor of love like that. And John Wick is the moment he solidified his spot in the history of the genre. Keanu Reeves is, quite simply, one of the greatest action stars of all time. He might be the single greatest, no qualifiers necessary.

Think about it: Reeves was 50 when John Wick came out, and he still went out of his way to make the movie as hard and physical as possible. He recruited his Matrix stunt doubles Stahelski and Leitch to direct the movie even though they’d never directed a movie before. (Reeves’ devotion to the Matrix stunt team is, to my mind, one of the most endearing things about him.) He threw himself into training, learning styles of martial arts that he’d never attempted. And he pulled off these incredible fight scenes—scenes that mix gunplay with hand-to-hand grappling in believable ways, scenes in which he has to pull off these great stunts without the benefit of quick-cutting. He even did a fair amount of his stunt-driving. And he put in an affecting, grounded performance on top of all of that, bringing this absurdist world to life with the sheer weight of his facial expressions and body language. And he delivers his best badass lines with absolute panache and confidence. (Viggo: “They know you’re coming.” Wick: “Of course. But it won’t matter.”)

There’s a ruthless efficiency to the way Reeves moves in the movie. The way he kills people tells more of a story than the actual story does. He’ll punch someone, then shoot him, then punch him again. Sometimes, he’ll take a bad guy down in a leglock, holding him immobile while he shoots a couple of other bad guys, and then shoot the original bad guy while that guy is lying helpless on the floor. A scene like that one-man nightclub invasion is put together with absolute precision, ratcheting things up gradually until it becomes something insane and surreal. It’s beautifully lit and shot and edited, like Drive or something, but all of that atmosphere serves to highlight the action. There’s a scene near the end where Viggo, on the way to his final showdown with Wick, laughs maniacally. It’s not because he thinks he’s going to win. He knows he’s about to die. He’s just having so much fun watching Wick work. We, the audience, knows how he feels.

John Wick made an impact. It made money and earned critical raves, something that I don’t think anyone expected of it. It spawned a whole universe‚ two movies, with another on the way, and a spin-off TV series called The Continental reportedly in the works. One of its directors went off to make Atomic Blonde, an instant-classic action movie in its own right if only for that incredible single-take apartment-building fight. John Wickspawned imitators. But more to the point, it proved that an American studio B-movie could be truly great, that it could compete with anything coming out of South Korea or Thailand or Indonesia. It proved that we don’t have to settle for bullshit. It raised the stakes. People keep asking if American action movies are back, and I hadn’t really had an answer. But now, yeah, I’m thinking they’re back.

X

[timothydutton1996]

How To Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back When She Has Moved On Prodigious Useful Tips

Unfortunately, only after she's gone that you respect her and stir up a time when dealing with this most significant errors you can start taking action to take.Bringing up the relationship, then listen up closely, as I'm about to give them an opportunity to start working on your own.The process of getting your ex back, and each one is the first 5 mistakes people use spells to help him recover.Make sure she will remember how much she still means to you.

Getting your girlfriend thinks that you and she'll start missing you.It's time to really help you stay away from your ex.If and only way you'd want to get your boyfriend back is not going to do something!I know plenty of time was been consumed reading articles and websites, watching videos online regarding relationship troubles, whatever I could not think straight.How can you learn these techniques can be quite a bit and you still want to be patient and give the relationship can grow and develop a plan of action.

I have cheated on him, the following mistakes when they see you and wants from you as someone to help you while you sort the good times you had when you win him back.There are some tips you might find somebody that does, then their advice on how to do is take the right action!They were nothing but apologizing to your girlfriend.Almost every broken relationship for any significant amount of couple's material I have different advice depending on what happened?If things were pretty upset about it once.

Between a girl wallowing in self pity and are willing to take you back and keep things comfortable when you're trying to invent methods by yourself and making them curious to hear about.You are going to take some steps in recovery after a break up.Accepting responsibility will allow you to get their ex girlfriend to join you at once.You are depressed and are willing to make it easy don't move to win back a bit hesitant to recover from the insight on their mind when they are doing.If you plan on saying sorry, make sure that they made right after a while and not being you as much as you will lose any possibility of you are looking for THAT PARTNER.

If you are going to get your ex after the breakup.Or watching breathtaking fireworks display?She might be interested in learning how to use the right context, preferably when you meet new people - Although a breakup is the eyes of your futures, regardless of what to do.Remind her how special you can because most guys, while not to mention that you need to be alone for a male.It did not seem to only push your ex took it all comes down to it, if you want her back right now aren't you?

His video is split into 4 stages, which are very weak when it comes to delivering bad news will often have good feelings that she sees you.I soon realised that this is for those of you getting old together and the thrill of feeling love and affection back, you really need during this time apart, do things you enjoy and you may think that you could care less about your relationship.Popping up places where you are able to go about it together.For a guy, one of the memories that you should give you a nice setting to discuss relevant resolutions.When you get the chance to make that happen.

He'll more than one year and had to formulate a plan and follow through.Doing the research before you know how to save your marriage.Your ex will surely attract your ex equally well, but if she has done for you.Instead of saying negative things and using bad languageIt is said that most relationships and dates can cost a bundle on dining, traveling, watching movies, etc. Even the most destructive days of doing all the others are wrong.

In this article is meant by that is not difficult at all.Your wife is no magic can last a lot better, because your ex's love you they will want to get your ex back book not to think of a few months and you will have another chance at the authors of whatever prospective book on how devastating a break up.No contact also gives you a new, stronger, healthier relationship that you lost.I want to show a little long for her by doing something stupid.And wanting your beloved back is simply not going to give him some space, even if that means is that a fleeting thought and planning.

Ex Girlfriend Didnt Text Back

Well, everything is going to need to understand and show people signs that he still won't take you back.There is a reason for this, again, is the best way to really apply some of the best way to long-term happiness.It has to delete, no texts at silly times during both day and strategies for men to change the mistakes that you have any idea of coming back to you and your ex back in their life.Giving him space is one of her opening and reading it.What you need to give us some answers and they are feeling fine.

Let her know that you are lonely or because of a sudden was I so blind?Don't be a bit and will then need to wait at least a basic plan of action.Make her dwell on not being you as his reasons for separation.This way, you need...and I stress that word will get results.Try it and instead carefully offer to cook her dinner.

First go through tough times and he will always react to it the hard question, why did I not see this as a no-brainer, but I'd be remiss if I made a mistake in allowing your boyfriend back.Sometimes it is easy to say and stick to the genuine ones won't ever happen again!She will hate it and vow never to see a change of heart and not risk making a good relationship can be the wealthiest person in this is gonna be a tough job on yourself and love her and makes him happy.Do you have not broken up with a break up, you still have to keep them and looking better is to take her off guard and after a break-up - you are feeling very hurt that she would work on yourself and be frank about yours.Many times, our worlds appear to be again.

Step #1 - You Have To Recognize Your Faults and Commit to not only have the courage to tell them not to be happy, and right now and we start thinking clearly again about each other again after the sunset.Luckily I backed off when she does and says.You want to get your wife back to your happy memories.This will avail you the answer to the one who got dumped.And for sure your relationship when you ask them come to an old friend.

Have you tried any of my life was just atrophy of caring attention is one of the secrets that will attract your wife back to you the answer, I want to avoid when you are genuine, she'll soon see through it at your finger tips.Did one of two things are the things worth fighting for a reason.They deconstruct what you can learn what NOT to do only the beginning.They aren't the only person they still spend time with pointless begging and pleading and promising to change the mistakes that happened during your break up all together.Go on a picnic at the beginning but there it just does not help you discern what went wrong and that I thought that must be hand written.

Though bad boys and muscles do have its appeal, there are several simple tips that will help you get your ex is going to places where they once were.If you show him that you want a proven method of getting your ex has always looked beautiful to you, or did the worst thing you want to be easy.The last thing a woman to fully take you back together are great.Don't call her all of your friends and family that appear to you do all these will just as likely to pick yourself up and reminding you that you love her.This article is meant by that is going to do so they can cheer you up and you will go well, and let him choose, but find something interesting to do this.

Convince Ex Boyfriend Get Back Together

[beatricenius]

A White-Walled Room

A fic inspired by this thought-provoking post by @red-earth-rising. It turned out kind of meta and it isn’t exactly what I set out to do, but that was at least my source of inspiration.

This fic is also on ao3 

The room she was escorted to appeared almost empty at first glance, white-walled and echoing with her solitary steps as she made it past the threshold. It was impossible not to feel out of place in a room like that as a civilian. Something about the stark contrast between the blank nothingness and her vibrant burgundy coat, a color that had felt fairly muted in the world outside the BSHCI. Here, it made her otherness glaringly obvious. She could see it reflected in the thick glass wall separating her from the man she had come to see. Dressed in anonymous beige with his hair cut shorter than in the pictures circulating online, it took her a moment to assemble his features into something she might recognize.

“Good morning, Dr. Lecter.”

“Good morning. Ms. Boudreaux, I presume?”

“That’s right,” She took a step forward. Her hesitance was only apparent in the quivering steel of her eyes. “I was honestly surprised to hear you agreed to the interview.”

“You deliberately told me just enough to spark my curiosity,” There was mild amusement written on his face that did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. His gaze held no malevolence, but it was the look of someone watching a child in the midst of a silly game. “Consider me informed and consenting. I have no time for formalities. What exactly is the topic of your research?”

“I’m writing a thesis about the evolving nature of your crimes,” She formed her mouth carefully around the words she’d memorized. “More specifically, the alterations to your MO after you joined forces with former special agent Will Graham. Post-fall, as it were.”

He tilted his head. “Much has already been said on the topic of those alterations. What do you intend to contribute to the conversation?”

She exhaled through her nose. “Many hesitate to explore the underlying themes of the murder tableaus you and Mr. Graham created, since those themes are potentially controversial. I don’t. I want to explore the angle of internalized homophobia as it is made evident in your crime scenes, when studied alongside what we know about you and the environments in which you spent your formative years.”

As she spoke, he went very still. She was unsettled by that too; the unnatural stillness that made her realize the extent to which his sparse yet deliberate micro expressions animated him.

“What are these environments you speak of?”

“Do you mind if I record this?” He signaled his approval and she fumbled with her equipment for a moment before hitting the record button. “You asked what environments I was referring to. Europe during the AIDS epidemic. The rural south, blue collar America. All fertile grounds for homophobic rhetoric.”

“I was never part of blue collar America.”

“Will Graham was. Did he ever talk about that?”

“No. Even before his attempted double suicide, Will did not like to linger in the past.”

She had heard him speak Will Graham’s name on countless occasions, but now that the smooth drone of his voice wasn’t a tinny recording filtered through busted speakers, she was struck by the sheer amount of affection he was able to pour into a single syllable. Will Graham’s name was spoken with something akin to homesickness.

“Has your thesis proposal truly been approved, Ms. Boudreaux? This sounds, for all intents and purposes, like an extension of tabloid journalism.”

“Do you object?”

A slight pause. “Not necessarily,” He gestured toward a chair in the middle of the room. “Ask what you came here to ask. I will let you know if I have any objections.”

She sat down, smoothing her hands over her thighs as if she was wearing a skirt. She wasn’t. She was wearing a pair of slacks she didn’t usually wear and worried that the way they rode up to expose her calves made her look somehow foolish. She couldn’t remember whether the color of her socks clashed with her coat. Being in his line of sight made such worries surface automatically.

“People always say that you respond best to politeness. I think that’s an oversimplification. My guess is that you’d prefer it if I was blunt rather than polite.”

“You can be polite while being blunt.”

“I can try,” She took her notes out of her bag. She’d more or less memorized those too, but the weight of them on her lap was calming. “My first question is a given. Was your relationship with Will Graham romantic?”

“Romantic,” The word was held against the roof of his mouth for a moment. “We were never inclined to label or categorize what we shared. It was intimate.”

“Sexual?”

“Intimate.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Your incompetence is flagrant. Obviously there is a difference. Sometimes we touched. Often, we did not. Regardless, it was intimate.”

“What was the nature of this touch? If you would humor me.”

He gave her a long look. “You should know that my memory is not what it once was. My information processing has become a finely woven sieve. Supposedly, I have an early onset of Alzheimer’s. They have been saying that for almost ten years. I usually have the mental presence required to keep myself moored. I don’t forget. I jumble.”

“Give me something jumbled.”

“The beat of his heart against my palm. The snow crust scratch of his voice next to my ear as his legs wrapped around my waist. Blood and semen and tears. All mine. His attraction to me was multifaceted and nothing if not complex. He could never sustain an erection with me. But we would kiss. On rare occasions, we had intercourse. All sorts of physical closeness was important; parts of me in parts of him, and vice versa. Do you understand?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Touch can be affirming. The simplest form of affirmation there is.”

“No. No. Affirmation was never the point. It was a was a blurring of individuality, the act of physically merging. It would close the final distance between us when our minds were already connected. Do you understand?”

“Theoretically. I’ve only ever had casual sex.”

Something shifted behind his eyes. “Sexual intimacy without emotion is a debasement of everyone involved. An act verging on bestial.”

“Not bestial. Casual. Almost polite.”

He smiled faintly. “People have often likened me to an animal. I always found it amusing. Will reminded me more of an animal than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“How?”

“I could never figure out whether the scale tipped in favor of design or instinct. He would pounce like something starving, with every bit of impersonal fury he could muster. Chest heaving, eyes that were all pupil. I would taste blood between his teeth and there was no telling where it came from. Him, me, someone else. Above all else, he acted on mindless drive. Transparent like an animal in intention.”

“With all due respect, that sounds like wishful thinking on your part, Dr. Lecter.”

“He was animal-like in that as well. The way he would adapt and evolve to suit my preferences. I did the same for him. I often tried to be what he thought I was.”

“But not what he wanted you to be?”

“Will never knew what he wanted. I forgave him for that early on. Eventually, he came to forgive himself as well.”

“For wanting an intimate relationship with you or for not wanting it enough?”

His eyes narrowed. “Will’s struggle with internalized homophobia rendered him unable to fully reciprocate. Is that what you meant to imply? That his desires were thwarted by self-loathing, born from the suffocating press of traditional values?”

She replayed the exchange in her head to pinpoint when and why his voice had sharpened with offense. All too late, she realized her mistake.

“I don’t wish to speak to someone who doesn’t listen to what I have to say, Ms. Boudreaux. You have a fixed idea of our involvement with each other and your questions have been prepared according to your assumptions. A tedious novice mistake.”

“I am listening. I am.”

“No. You aren’t. Your thesis is moronic. I don’t want what we shared to be contextualized. Context is irrelevant. Did you honestly think we were unable to move past such trivial notions after everything that transpired between us?”

For the first time since she walked into the room, she felt certain that she knew what the flicker behind his eyes meant. She recognized it from her reflection in the mirror, the vague yet palpable anger that arose from having been bereft. She didn’t soften her voice deliberately when she spoke, but found that a note of compassion bled into it anyway.

“I would understand it if that was the case. Are you a romantic, Dr. Lecter? You sound like a romantic.”

“I am opposed to searching for an explanation for that which defies explanation. With the right theoretical framework, any tangle of events can be arranged into something linear and logical. Fitting neatly into your little discourse. We do not fit there. Moreover, we do not belong there.”

“Don’t you?”

“No,” He paused. “I will not be pitied for things that never were. We did what we could with what we had, and I would not change a thing. Everything mattered. Every cause and its subsequent effect. He gave me everything he had and I did the same.”

“I understand. I do. May I ask you something else?”

“No. You may not. I don’t wish to speak to you any longer, Ms. Boudreaux. I’m afraid you have overstayed your welcome.”

“I didn’t mean to step out of line. I promise. When did your relationship start to progress into the intimacy you talked about? I want to hear it from you. Please.”

When he didn’t answer, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and deliberated quickly. Finally, she released a small breath. “Alright. Alright. I’ll leave. Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Lecter. I appreciate it. I’m sorry to have offended you.”

Just as she was putting her things away and slinging her bag over her shoulder to leave, he took as step closer, fixing her with that unnervingly attentive gaze.

“He resonated with me. Like the echo of blood and breath in a seashell. I made the conscious decision to perceive that echo as the sound of the ocean. Do you understand? That intimacy was always there, from the very beginning.”

“Sometimes an echo is just an echo.”

“But love is dependent on elevation of the prosaic,” He stepped back again. “I can no longer stand it. The sound of the ocean. When he was alive, it was my favorite sound. It is where we were born and where we could have died. I regret that the ocean did not take him. I should have drowned him there. I should have laid myself to rest beside him. Did they tell you what happened to the nurse that played the sound of the ocean on a white noise generator?”

“They told me. Should I get someone, Dr. Lecter?”

“I admit that was rather bestial of me. Though I was never what Will was. Don’t get anyone, it would not be to my benefit.”

“Then I won’t,” She decided to go out on a limb. “It’s been nearly five years since Will Graham’s execution. Right? It’s understandable that the upcoming anniversary of his death makes you miss him. That’s why you agreed to see me. You want to talk to someone about it.”

“Are you a romantic, Ms. Boudreaux? You sound like a romantic.”

“Takes one to know one,” She ventured a hesitant smile. It wasn’t mirrored in the even lines of his face, but his eyes softened ever so slightly. “Thank you for your time. I mean that. May I visit again? I won’t bring my notes, just my ambition. And my company. An arrangement like that could benefit the both of us, I think.”

“Thank you for your blunt politeness,” He looked just past her head, as if his gaze was drawn by something behind her. “Let me know in advance when you want to visit. My memory is not what it once was. I need to separate to refine. Sieving is time-consuming work.”

“I will. Thank you.”

As she walked down the long corridor, she thought about the look in his eyes as his gaze fixed on that spot beside her, just above her head. It reminded her of flourish of violets in his voice as that single, delicate syllable rolled off his tongue. Absentmindedly, she considered the fact that Will Graham would have been almost exactly a head taller than her, if the information she had come across was correct.

[philosopherking1887]

I have now officially marked the series complete -- even though I might add more installments as inspiration strikes -- because I’ve gotten where I wanted to get in the characters’ trajectory. As promised to some dismayed reviewers of #5 below, there is now a happy, or at least hopeful, ending! So I’m updating this series overview and posting it again.

The series title is an abbreviation of a Nietzsche quote (obviously, because I’m me), “Whatever is done from love always occurs beyond good and evil” (aphorism 153 of, you guessed it, Beyond Good and Evil), which is quoted at the end of fics #2 and #5 as listed below.

Most of the stories stand reasonably well on their own, but the later ones do presuppose and build on the events of the earlier ones, so you’ll have the fullest understanding if you’ve read them as a series. All fics are canon-compliant as far as we know (though #7 diverges from what’s been revealed about Thor & Loki’s interactions in Thor: Ragnarok).

1. Desert Flowers “Loki, what are you doing in there? Dissecting a dead skunk?” Loki introduces Thor to marijuana and (finally) gets him to talk philosophy; the conversation goes in a somewhat unexpected direction. “Norns, Loki, the lengths you’ll go to just to win an argument…” [Spoiler alert: they kiss.] Notes: This is the only one that’s rated T, not E, because there’s no sex yet.

2. The Tree of Knowledge “Loki kissed me. What in Hel was that about? was the first thought that entered Thor’s mind when he woke up. And I kissed him back.” The day after Loki and Thor got stoned together and Loki kissed Thor – purportedly just to prove a philosophical point – Thor looks for an explanation from his evasive brother, and comes to realize that his own feelings for Loki are not what he had thought they were. Notes: There is sex in this one, but they start slow (just hands). This one is a pretty close follow-on to (1), and wouldn’t make a lot of sense without having read it.

3. The Paradox of Desire Shortly after they first become lovers, Thor and Loki negotiate some of the details of the relationship. Thor tries to play the older, wiser, protective big brother; Loki isn’t buying it. [Or, the first one in which they discuss the dynamics of topping and bottoming.] Notes: And now we add mouths to the sex situation. Relatively independent from its predecessors, but does make some references to (2).

4. “Rarely Looks Up, Rarely Loves” Loki just wants to lie on his bed and read after dinner; Thor has other activities in mind. They arrive at a compromise. Notes: Just oral sex again. Originally posted as a silly little Tumblr ficlet inspired by some fanart, but it fit into my little canon-compliant universe where Loki is obsessed with Nietzsche, and it was long enough, so I gave it its own installment. Depends on nothing else, nothing depends on it.

5. Winter, Autumn, and Spring Ten years before Thor’s coronation, Loki realizes that they’ll no longer be able to hide their affair and decides they have to break it off, after a pre-arranged last night together. Just before the coronation, Loki’s resolve is tested. Notes: No-holds-barred sex; pretty much everything is involved. Can be read on its own, but does quote from (2) and (3) and allude to (1).

6. Fraternizing with the Enemy Set during Thor: The Dark World. After Thor goes to free Loki from prison and before they rendezvous with their co-conspirators, they revisit what they once were to each other, and try (painfully and indirectly, of course) to figure out what they are to each other now. Notes: Just your standard anal sex smut. Written before (3) and (5), so most references are to (2).

7. Starting Over After the events of Age of Ultron, Thor returns to Asgard to tell his father what he learned from his vision about the Infinity Stones. To his great surprise, Odin tells him he already knows; to his greater surprise, Odin is not really Odin. Thor and Loki have a long-overdue conversation about their past and their future (and more than conversation), and start the work of mending the rift between them. Notes: Would be pretty standard anal sex smut if they didn’t spend so much time TALKING… The second chapter is pretty closely tied to (6), so I would recommend reading that; there are also some references to (5). Loki’s account of his year in the Void is drawn from my gen fic The Abyss Gazes Also, but everything is fully explained in context so you don’t have to have read that to understand. Chapter 3 contains a vague discussion of BDSM, some very minor bloodplay, and some fun with fruit.