#i rewrote it its better now it explains shit better thanks

[discogs]

the permanent shivers down your spine,

a look at an underrated classic.

There is no right configuration of words that can express the weight of a song like ‘Shivers,’ although I set out to persuade you into believing this is a masterpiece I really cannot do such a thing if you do not believe from the first few seconds that it is. If it does not create a dwelling within you upon its start, this may prove a fruitless venture. At the risk of sounding exclusionary, some art is made to matter only to a set few. It is because of this that I will not try to force your head under water to understand how it feels to drown. All I can do is paint you a picture of the bottom of the ocean to explain the way the current feels.

Shivers, in short, is a approximation of everything one should aspire to conquer in an artistic career. The biggest horror of humankind is to be forgotten. The thought which wracks at the collective soul of mankind is to be a stranger to the history books, the common goal of creators and the everyday man alike is to be eternal. Every name which leaves our lips in a list of legends is a name which carries with it some kind of resounding cultural wealth.   Every song you hear repeatedly on the radio leaves something within you every time it is played, no matter the love or hate you may feel for it, you will remember it, and you will continue to hear it. These songs, often albatrosses to the musicians associated with it, stab their flag into the world to shine for the rest of time. This is the common denominator in all of history. A need to be remembered. It’s at this point that you’re probably realising you have either never heard this song or at least hadn’t heard it until you were much older than you were when you first became aware of music. The specific memory of this song is lost to most, but to me what matters is not the the song itself as a singular entity, but instead its power as an encapsulating phenomena. It is the wide plains within the song, the feelings this song conjures up that are universal and eternal to the human condition.

Shockingly, the song’s origins do not lie in the winding milky way, orchestrated by some celestial fiend looking to stir the whole of the earth. Instead it has its roots inside a sixteen year old’s harsh cynicism, remarking one day in 1977 that the infatuation of teenage love is beyond childish. The chronically sarcastic Rowland  S. Howard was then fronting Melbourne band The Young Charlatans with fellow bandmate, Ollie Olsen. I would be remiss to imply that Howard was unaware of his destiny to become a towering figure in rock, it is evident in early video recordings seen in the 2011 documentary, Autoluminescent that Howard has always carried himself with the unmistakable power of an established rock’n’roll star. This trait carries on into the original 1978 recording of “Shivers” with the Young Charlatans where Howard scowls over rough instrumentals about a ‘love’ which sees none other than herself, making hollow statements about the fragility of his heart and the poker face he holds to mask the non-substantial pain he feels for the woman at hand. In this version we can clearly make out the jaded tone of the song and understand it more as a vision of dead, perhaps never lifeless desire, mistaken as heartbreak by an idle teenager. This idea is resoundingly lost in the more popularised version of the song, recorded just a year later with bad-seed-to-be Nick Cave on lead vocals, backed by another Melbourne band which Howard joined forces with just a few months after the original recording of ‘Shivers.’

Despite the sarcastic intent by the ghostly Howard, the version recorded by the Boys Next Door in 1979 has cast a romantic shadow over the work. The blasé attitude of the first cut is thrown aside entirely for a more genuine, harrowing ballad echoing the likes of Roxy Music. The song created here is one of true heartbreak and disbelief with the cruelty of humanity’s heart. The track  is introduced by a stinging guitar and tumbling drums, expanding a wide open space within your mind shrouded in cigarette smoke from which arises the devastated Cave, who’s shaking vocals shoot a hole straight through your rib cage leaving you fatally wounded. This is a boy torn to pieces by vicious indifference, shot down from Cupid’s grasps by the worst feeling known to his teenage heart: unrequited love. Cave’s dominating voice are rivaled only by the staggering presence of Howard’s signature weeping guitar, piercing the lush, heavy song with razor blade precision, as is custom for Howard’s style - which seems to aim to kill more than it aims to please. There is no better adversary to Cave’s crooning than Howard’s sting, the two of which do not meet harmoniously until the chorus, which delivers a gutteral kick to the chest sending you spiraling through the darkest of emotions back to your most sorrowful nights. One cannot help but imagine a pouring champagne bottle hurtling through a dusty velvet clad and lonely lounge when embarking upon the expanse of this track. It solidifies for the listener a dark and terrorising thought of love into a barbed wire wrapped sacred heart bleeding crimson.

Though the premise of the song is essentially warped, the ability to create an entirely new entity out of unchanged source material proves the unstoppable malleability of the lyrics themselves. The most remarkable thing about this song is it’s unbelievable capacity for interpretation, artists have twisted and turned the music and melodies of this song into innumerable different sensations, all having only one thing in common - the undeniable genius of the lyrical framework. Seldom ever are the words altered, they stay put like the metal frame of a skyscraper unable to move, it is simply the world around them which changes. The distinct adaptability of the track is what digs its nails into the field of unforgettable classics, for the best of things that we can make are those which can mean platitudes to hundreds of different people. It is this kaleidoscope of expression that renders it deserving of its place in music history, for there are very few things which can mean so much without ever changing, and continue to do so for every listener and artist who decide to take it on.  I had mentioned the sheer scope of the song at the beginning of this article, touching upon the plains that rest within this track. Though one may find it useless to be remembered for something that your face is not directly associated with, I find the opposite far more poetic and substantial. What it is that Howard has managed to do here is to strip this monolith of an art piece from all it’s corporal ties, allowing it to become a free form, endlessly traveling thing which falls into the possession of a select few to be toyed with and thought of before escaping back into the ether to be discovered once more.

[amariaaa]

Hello hello! I was wondering if I could get a request about Bakugo coming home to a worn out reader? Like, the reader takes care of people for a living and they’re at the end of their rope. It can be sfw or nsfw, you can choose. Thanks!! 💥

Summary: When bakugou finds out the toll your job takes on you after an incident he tries to comfort you

Characters: dynamite/king explosion murder/Bakugou Katsuki

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, depression?

Authors note: I wrote a whole different story and forgot to save so i rewrote it and made it a sfw instead of a nsfw. Also i hope it's ok i went the mental route instead of exhaustion.

———————————————————————-

“We need a nurse in room 16” the speakers announced as you rushed into the room.

The patient was loosing a lot of blood and even worse the patient was just a little girl. You ran into the room as quickly as you could after a day of exhaustion.

The stench of blood filled your nose. You rushed over to the lead doctors to assess the situation at hand.

“Doctor what’s happening?!”

The heart monitor screeched to signal that the amount of oxygen the girl was taking in was lowering. 

“She’s in hypovolemic shock, it’s not likely she’ll make it” the doctor said in a panicked tone.

Your mind stiffened at the thought of this sweet little girl dying “We have to do anything to save her, her dying is not a choice”

You rushed over to her bedside putting an intravenous line into her arm to allow blood to be put into her system.

Just as you were about to insert the blood into the iv you stumbled, causing you to have to get another one.

You rushed down the hallway to get another blood bag. As you raced back into the girls room only to hear the monitor flatline, stopping you in your tracks.

This was not the first time a patient has died. This was the first patient who happened to be a little girl who might’ve still been alive if it wasn’t for your clumsiness who had died. She was the first child who had died under your list of patients.

You stared at the door of the room as the happiness drained out of your eyes and quickly replaced with sorrow.

You had been called in all week to this hospital and this was the only person you have failed to save. The worst part about it was that you had met her prior to what led up to her being here.

She was the same little girl who was stuck in a crossfire between a superhero and a villain. You saved her then, but now that it was your literal job to save her you couldn’t.

You drove home in silence as the guilt consumed you as you finally parked in your driveway. You stumbled hazily into your house and collapsed on your couch.

You threw the phone as your fiancé bombarded your phone with texts and calls. You didn’t want to speak to anyone. No, you didn’t deserve to speak to anyone.

Your fiancé rushed to your job from you not answering and him getting worried. His red eyes widened as the staff explained to him what happened and that you had taken the rest of the day off.

He sped away in his car to find you as anger creeped into his crimson eyes, knowing you’re blaming yourself for a situation that was out of your control from the beginning.

“Fuckin’ idiot” he yelled while calling you again only to be sent to voicemail.

He parked the car and jumped out, not even worrying about turning off the engine.

He walks to your shared house only to see you’ve left the door open with your items thrown everywhere in the living room.

He rushed into the bedroom to find you broken and crying in the corner. He had never once seen you this mentally and physically drained.

Your eyes were puffy from crying, hair distressed across your head, clothes matted and wrinkled. The alarming part was that this was you only an hour after.

He carefully walked over to your sobbing figure only to be met with dull eyes. You were waddling in your own guilt and sorrow.

As he tried to pull you towards him you quickly pushed him away, not wanting to be consoled. Not wanting to feel better. You felt as if you cause this and that you deserved to feel like shit.

He only clicked his tongue and yanked you into his comfort.

“The fuck is you doing that for. You know the shit wasn’t your fault.”

You looked at him as tears blurred your vision for the hundredth time today.

“A little girl died today. A LITTLE FUCKING GIRL DIED Katsuki. BECAUSE I WASN’T QUICK ENOUGH!”

He glared at you and shook your shoulders.

“That wasn’t your damn fault” he said as if he had 0 cares or remorse about this.

“ITS MY JOB TO SAVE. I FAILED” “ YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW WHAT THIS FEELS LIKE.”

Silenced washed over the both of you as you looked at him and tried to walk away.

He quickly gripped your arm and pulled you against his chest.

“You can’t save them all. You think I’ve never cried over a civilian who didn’t make it?”

You looked up to see his prideful eyes water as tears brim.

“You can’t save everyone.” he whispered in your ear

you sat quietly in his embrace as you let out your final sobs.

“i know.. but what good is this being my job if i can't even do that correctly”

Katsuki looked at you with his lips pressed into a firm line. “you’ve saved so many people, and so many more to come”

You just looked at him amazed. Everyone knows Katsuki Bakugou was never the sentimental type. Even in the 4 years of you both dates, he's never been so soft with you.

Though the current events isn't something you can easily forgive yourself for, him showing this much kindness and love let's you know you'll eventually overcome this tragedy.

You cupped your fiancé cheeks and kissed him slowly as tears ran down your cheek. You didn't know if you were crying from the fact you knew you'd be okay, or Katsuki's cheering you up with his gentle and kind words.

His eyes widen as he slowly began to kiss back.

"Thank you" was all you could mutter while kissing him.

He just pulled you closer and deepens the kiss only to pull away for a split second to say "yeah, whatever next time don't be an idiot, blaming yourself for shit that wasn't your fault"

you laughed softly because you're normal egotistical, Brash, and blunt fiancé was back.

[panic-at-the-fiction]

1973 pt5

Summary:(y/n) life hasn’t been the same since the school closed down and neither has her father. But there seems to be a sign of hope of the man he used to be returning with this new mission.

Warnings: I did what I wanted and ignored the rest

a/n: I went through shit. Rewrote this three times, this is what you get. I ain’t gotta explain shit to you about it either. @whyiswhatahow @willalaufeyson @flowersfrom197o @neenieweenie @laic2299

It only took us ten minutes to find and get to the nearest train station. Only problem is, the next train for Westchester doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.

“What the hell am I going to do till tomorrow?” I slump down against the wall.

“I might have a few ideas, but we could get in trouble for some of them.”

“Only if we get caught!” We share a smile, and he offers me his hand to stand up. Only neither of us let go as we walked back to the car.

After we dropped the car off at the rental place, we walked to a small grocery store four blocks down. “Okay, tell me every snack you want as we look around. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes, Peter, I think I can’t handle picking out snacks.”

“Hey, we don’t need a good girl like you to get cold feet in this.”

I scoffed at him as we entered the store. I strolled the aisles and made quick timing in picking out about more than a good share of items. When I felt satisfied in what we had chosen, Peter disappeared in a blur, only to be back a few moments later.

“Ok, everything’s outside, let’s go.”

“Now hold on, that was your master plan? That’s so easy! You run at the speed of light, of course you won’t get caught.” I whispered-yelled at him. “If you want the real fun of it, you have to do it in real time. Watch.”

I walked outside the store and found a nearby trash can. I didn’t even have to open it to find a receipt, as there were a few laying on the ground where someone had missed the trash can. I picked it up and read what they had purchased. It was perfect for what I needed. I went back inside, where Peter was waiting for me. I grabbed the first few items and threw them back in a buggy I made Peter push around. Once I felt pleased with how many things I had gotten from the receipt, I grabbed some more items Peter hadn’t gotten earlier.

I even strolled over to where the store kept its alcohol. It didn’t take long for me to find the good kind of whiskey, the kind my dad kept back at the mansion. Then all I had to do was put the food into Bags and walk out. No one even questioned us.

“That was genius. They never even said anything.”

“Thank you, thank you. Most of the time they don’t even look at whose leaving and with what, but If they had stopped us I have a receipt, and they would just scan it and check the stand-out items on the list.”

“Still, it was pretty badass of you.”

“So what’s next?”

“You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”

I laugh, “Haven’t I been doing that already?”

“Well, yes, but this time we’ll have to super speed over there.”

I nod my head, “well, let’s go then.”

“Here, you hold the groceries tight.” I took the bags from his hand and slipped them on my arm. He then placed one hand on my hip and the other on the back of my neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, it's so you don’t get whiplash.” I go to protest and ask more, but he takes off and for a second, it feels like I’m outside a moving airplane, and before I can comprehend it’s gone. I feel sick.

“It’s okay, it happens to everyone at first.” He rubs my back slowly and the touch helps. I pull myself together as I take in what’s around me.

“You brought me to a junkyard?” I look at all the broken used cars and abandoned appliances. It even had a few trailers and semi trucks abandoned here.

“No, what we're looking for is over this way.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the left, weaving through the cars and junk. “I came down here one day just looking for anything worth taking, but I found something better.” We turned a corner and he stopped. He opened a car door and pulled out a movie projector with a box of movie tapes. “Welcome to my personal drive-in movie theater.” He smiled proudly.

He set the movie projector up on the hood of one of the cars and aimed it at the side of the white trailer. Peter then sat down next to the projector and leaned against the windshield.

I climbed up beside him and passed him most of the snacks. “So we have the birds, journey to the center of the earth, planet of the apes.”

“Where did you get all of these from?”

“I may have stolen these.”

“Guess I should have guessed that one. What’s your favorite one?”

He smiles and pulls out one of the tapes, “my all-time favorite has to be this one.” He hands it to me to read. I grimace at the title, psycho.

“I have to admit, I’m a little nervous to watch scary movies.”

“No way, you? The most ultimate badass I have ever met, who only just casually broke a man out of prison today, fears horror movies?”

“Yes, ok?”

“Well now we have to watch it, so I can prove to you that this tape is nothing to be afraid of and besides even if it could harm you I’m here so ain’t nothing getting past me darling.”

I laughed, “oh my hero,” I said sarcastically.

The movie wasn’t so bad at first, but it wasn’t long before I was starting to shake a little. At one point, I even jumped and grabbed onto Peter's arm. It’s cheesy, I know, but it was only instinct. After that, he wrapped his arm around me to “protect” me from the killer. Until then, I hadn’t noticed it yet, but for the first time ever I can’t feel anyone’s else’s emotions but mine. Whenever my heart starts racing around him, I can only feel my emotions. It’s wonderful.

I'd say it’s the alcohol, but I'm pretty good at making irrational decisions sober. I look at Peter and when he meets my eyes I lean in. Not only that, but I gave him enough time to push me away or move, but he didn't. Our lips meet and it’s better than before. It’s not a fake passionate make out, it’s young and playful and for once, maybe I’m just a girl doing normal things.

Once the movie is over we start another one and then another one, and before it’s over there's barely a swig of alcohol left and all the snacks are gone. At this point, neither of us are watching the movie, and we’re laughing at nothing, kissing and getting caught up in ourselves for no reason.

“You are definitely drunk.”

I scoff, “Hey that’s not fair you’re soooo drunk too you know!”

“I’m not actually, it must be my high metabolism.”

“No one has that high of a metabolism.”

“I do, I’m a speedster. I run at the speed of light, you think I don’t burn through calories?”

“Ugh, that’s unfair cause now I’m going to do something stupid, and you’ll be fully sober.” I whined.

I started shivering at the cold air. “Hey, it’s getting late, why don’t we pack up, and you can crash at my place tonight.”

“Ok ok ok” I said reluctantly, picking my drunk ass up and stumbled off the hood of the car.

When my feet hit the ground I trip, but before I can even process the fall, Peter had caught me and set me up right.

“Now, don’t go busting your head open.”

“HaHa very funny.” I try to walk, but I’m a stumbling mess,

“Ok WoW, let’s get you home and to bed cause you missy are a lightweight.”

“Excuse you, but I’m not a lightweight, you're just jealous you can't get drunk.”

He laughed but moved to pick me up. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“You're drunk and can’t even walk and beside this is easier than just supporting your neck.”

“Fine, but this is not how we’re doing it, turn around.”

“What?”

“I’m getting on your back. Why can you not run while giving me a piggyback ride?”

“It’s fine, I can manage.” He turns around and I jump on. Once situated, he takes off just like last time. It’s like being on the windshield of an airplane, but before you know it, you’ve stopped.

I hop off and try not to stumble. This time we’re on his front porch. Both of us mindlessly slip our hands together.

“Come on inside. My moms working tonight, and my sisters are at a friend's house, so it’s just us.” He opens the door for us to go in, and we walk downstairs. “I’d say I take the couch, and you can have the bed, but if you ask me the couch is way better.”

For a serious moment, I sober up. “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Today we broke a man out of prison, and the best thing we could’ve done after that was immediately go our separate ways. But not only have we not done that, but now you are inviting me into your house. You don’t even know me.”

“Well I haven’t known you for long, but I do know you, and besides you're too drunk to try anything anyway.” I plop now on the couch as the drowsiness hits me. “And you didn’t have to trust me either you know? I’m a random stranger and now your sleeping on my couch.”

“Well I trust you, Logan says we know each other in the future.” I said mystically, my sober moment is gone. I'm just a mumbling drunk now. “Shhhhh, you can’t tell anyone this cause it might mess up the future, but we’re married. Did I mention Logan’s from the future? He told me aaaalll about it.” Before Peter can respond, or I can process that I just told a boy I only just met that we’re getting married. The drunkenness, the long drives, the crime, all catch up with me and I can’t stop myself from closing my eyes.

[sunflowerstache]

Lifespan

A/N: Hello! This is very different from most of my writing, not only because its an OC, but because the storyline is just something out of my comfort zone. But I really hope you enjoy it(: I got the inspiration from a ad I saw on Facebook a long time ago lmao but yeah, come say hi once you’ve read it and tell me what you think! It’s much appreciated! I love you all so very much! Also hugeeeee shoutout to @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​ for spending like six months reading and re-reading this every single time I rewrote it and changed things and encouraging me each time! And @emotionally-imbruised​ for beta reading it for me!💛💛

Word Count: 7.3k

“Doll?”

The fog that seemed to have settled over your mind instantly melted away upon hearing the barista’s voice, her sweet drawl grounding your focus back on her. She was an older woman, probably nearing her sixties based on the collection of grey hairs scattered throughout her small ponytail. But still so incredibly full of life. She had red glasses perched atop her nose - which perfectly completed the red polka dots covering her black dress - a beaded chain dangling from the end to the front of the frame, a pair of silver peace sign studs resided in her ears, and the anatomically correct symbol for caffeine dangled in necklace form on her chest.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“Just asked if you wanted the cream on that.” She smiled, thin lines spreading out and away from the sides of her eyes as her mouth widened. Upon glancing down quickly, you took notice of her clearly hand drawn name tag filled with swirling letters - different then when you stopped by earlier in the week when she had used stickers to spell out “Rita”.

“Oh, um yeah sure. Why not.”

“My husband always says that during weather like this, the calories don’t count. That they disappear with your shivering. Can I just have your name, dear?”

“Georgie. And your husband sounds like a very smart man.”

“Oh, he is.” A dreamy look took over Rita’s features, like just thinking about the man made her heart race. “Been together for forty-two years and he still teaches me new things.”

Your heart ached with each word; the fog slowly started to creep back through your mind while you watched her grin fondly. The hope and excitement for the future that was always so very clear in people’s eyes was what made it so hard not to explain everything you knew, every secret you held. However, as much as you wanted to urge everyone to live the life they’ve always wanted, you knew there was a natural balance to life, and opening your mouth would undoubtedly throw that balance off. So instead, you grinned and nodded your head.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“My best friend. Counting down the minutes until the end of my shift. We’re heading up to see our grandbabies for the week.” It was like she knew exactly what kind of secret you were keeping and made sure to hit you where it hurt each time she opened her mouth. As if her being impossibly sweet didn’t hurt enough.

“That sounds nice.” Digging around in your bag for your wallet made it much easier not to focus on the ticking time bomb in front of you. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I know I can’t talk forever if no one stops me.” her laugh was soft, inviting, one you would love to listen to while storytelling. “It’s four pounds.”

“You can keep the change.” You said when handing her some cash, but stopped yourself before you turned to walk away. Even if you weren’t ever going to outright explain anything to anyone, slipping in tiny, reassuring comments made you feel at least a little better before parting ways. “Have an amazing night with your family Rita.”

The coffee shop was relatively empty at the hours you stopped by. Other than the same group of men that were there every morning, chatting over the newspaper and a black coffee and a young nurse who was just getting off of her night shift, only customers on their way to work stopped by. But that was just how you preferred it. It was much easier to avoid running into people when the sun had barely just peeked over the morning horizon. You suppose the city isn’t exactly the best place to reside when you’re on a mission not to get close to anyone, but you’d much preferred the hustle and bustle of the city than the silence of the countryside. At least here you were able to escape your thoughts when they got to be too much, out there you were left to drown in the weights you held.

Rita was right when she said the weather would bring shivering. The moment you stepped through the café doors, all sense of warmth you previously had was sucked out of you, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling against the warm cup. You hadn’t ever really gotten to know the woman behind the counter, a few kind greetings every now and again, but she seemed to be someone who brought a lot of joy to those around her. And she always put extra chocolate curls on your drink. You made a mental note to send some flowers to her family within the coming days.

It was a car horn that initially took your attention off of the pavement, turning to look for who was in such a rush at 5:30am, but the hard torso smacking into her shoulder is what brought your attention back. Followed by the searing heat of your hot chocolate spilling down your front.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, immediately dropping the paper cup and trying to pull your shirt away from your body to decrease the chance of a burn. There goes your chance to get home and drive right to work without any issue.

“Oh my god! Oh shit!” the man that had ran into you gasped, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto your elbow to steady your wild movements.

Even though his words were quite loud on the empty street, his voice was still husky, almost like he wasn’t awake yet and still had some left over sleep in his throat. And when you turned to look at who had ruined your shirt, your own voice got stuck in your throat. He was tall, which made sense considering your head had bounced right off of his chest. He was wearing black basketball shorts with tall white socks and a light grey hoodie, which was pulled up to cover the dark grey beanie resting on his head. With one hand he was holding a water bottle with ease, while the other was frantically pulling the airpod from his ear. But apart from his sheer stature, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful this man was. How even the worry lines littering his face were perfectly accenting his features. Or how the green of his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the Whole Foods you had been stopped in front of.

“I’m so sorry! Shit are you okay?” he quickly asked, shaking his head before you could even respond. “Obviously not, that was probably hot. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

Finally getting your bearings back, you couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah it was pretty hot.”

“Shit, I don’t even know how that happened. I must’ve taken my eyes off the pavement for one second. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” You chuckled, bending down to pick up your now empty cup at your feet and tossing it in the bin by your side. “Don’t worry about it. Really it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’ve ruined your shirt.” If the disappointment in his voice wasn’t evident enough, the small pout on his lips definitely was. He looked absolutely distraught at the sight of what he’d done. “Let me at least get you a new drink. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” You’d always known it was rude to speak to someone and not give them eye contact, it was something your father had drilled into you as a child, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Looking someone in the eyes meant seeing above their head, and that was an area you actively tried to avoid looking. But there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help glancing up at him quickly again. “I actually have to be getting to work. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Positive. Have a good morning.” Your touch was soft on his arm as you made your way past him, leaving the mystery man standing on the pavement staring as you walked towards your flat.

You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but it’s just how you’d grown accustomed to living life. It was the easiest way you found not to get close to many people, which meant less hurt in the end. And you’d been around enough hurt in your short twenty three years. It may be a lonely life, but you were happy with your cat, comically named Lucifer, and living a simple life. Sure, there were times you wished you could live the carefree life everyone around you got to experience, your only issues being stresses of work or relationship drama, but that wasn’t who you were. After living the life you did, there’d be no way you could live a normal life.

“Don’t give me that look, Luci.” you grumbled when walking through your front door, your cat perched on the dining table just watching as you moved through the living room, ripping your destroyed shirt from your body. “This wasn’t my fault.”

You’re sure that you looked like a crazy person if anyone was watching on, talking to your cat while walking around your flat in nothing but a pair of black slacks and a bra. But you didn’t care, because this was your normal. You ranted to her after a long day at work or a particularly draining day, and she always sat and listened. Mostly because she was a cat.

“He just ran right into me, like he literally couldn’t see me. How odd, right?” you stopped briefly while searching your closet for a new shirt. “God Luci, he was cute though. So cute. And tall.”

Just because you secluded yourself in the world didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy taking a peak at what it had to offer. It was the forming relationships that put you off, not because there was a level of uncertainty - nothing was uncertain to you - but because you always knew the timeline of said relationships. It was always the same. So why put yourself through it? But also, why not? What if that was just what you needed to make such a painful existence a little more bearable?

“I didn’t even get his name. Maybe I’ll see him around the cafe sometime.” you hummed, throwing the new peach colored blouse over your head and peeking your face out of the hole. “No. No Georgie, don’t go there. Who are we kidding, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway.”

Lucifer meows loudly at your comment., making you turn around to glare at her. Obviously she didn’t know what was actually going on, but it was nice to entertain the idea of someone listening to your problems and helping you talk them out. You were a secluded young woman, not crazy.

“What? Like I’m wrong? It’s not something I’d be able to keep from a boyfriend forever. And It’s not like I’d be able to just flat out tell them.”

She meowed again, jumping off the table and prancing her way to your feet, rubbing her side against your ankles.

“What would I even say? Hey, I was born with this thing where I can see a floating clock above everyone’s head that literally counts down to the day you die? Yeah because that won’t get me sent to the looney bin.”

From the start of time, there has always been a beginning and an end to everything. No matter if it was an Oscar award winning film, delicate relationships, or even life itself, it all ended. People come, and they go, but the world continues on; taking care of those who stay to see another day. And on a daily basis, the idea of the end rarely floats through anyone’s mind. Except for you.

For you, it was impossible not to think about when it was quite literally staring you in the face. For as long as you could remember, you walked through life with a different outlook on the end than most other people.It wasn’t because you had some near death experience, but due to a gift. Or at least what some people in the world would consider a gift, because in no way would you call being able to see the exact day someone is going to die, a gift.

It was something that over the years you had grown to ignore, trying not to look too far away from people’s eyes and never thinking too hard about the ticking numbers.They weren’t obnoxious or flashy signs hanging above everyone’s heads - like you had seen some films try and depict - but instead, just a simple, faint, white clock just above the tops of everyone’s head, showing each individual’s lifespan. No matter how many hours you sat down and tried to rationalize why you were able to see this, there was never any answer. No one else in your family carried the burden, and because of that, you never mentioned it to anyone in fear of sounding crazy. But you knew you weren’t crazy, not when you prayed night after night for those numbers to disappear or for someone’s clock to be wrong, only to be let down.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you finally saw your favorite florist Don after he spent some time away, and his clock suddenly read 3 years, 20 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 6 seconds instead of the 27 years you had grown used to seeing on him every day before he left. It didn’t take long for you to find out he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and treatments had stopped working.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you got to watch Kim’s clock - the very sweet receptionist at your job - begin to slow down the more she adjusted to a healthy lifestyle of eating right and taking care of her body. What was once a ticking time of a measly 21 years adjusted what would be a long and fulfilled 59 years more.

And you knew you weren’t crazy when at only seventeen years old, you watched as your best friend’s clock suddenly dwindled down to zero’s across the board like a slot machine while laying on the bathroom floor of a house party. The drugs in her system being too much for her young body to handle and completely consuming the 72 years she once had left.

You weren’t crazy, you just carried a burden no one should ever have. And because of it, you made sure not to get close to anyone in fear of watching yet another clock strike zero.

So you moved on with your life, forgetting all about the tall man who had spilled your drink and run into your mind, making you think things you hadn’t in so long, and instead, focused solely on getting through your days at work and getting back home. It was an easy routine, one you hadn’t strayed from much since moving to the city six years ago; wake up, feed Luci, get coffee, go to work, go home, shower, watch tv, go to bed. And as happy as you were that life wasn’t so painful these days, boring would be the only word good enough to describe your life.

Until your neighbors moved in.

You were standing in the kitchen, lifting the collar up to your mouth to try and quickly lick the hot sauce off the old, ratty Elton John Tour shirt you were wearing before it left a stain, wearing nothing else but some shorts, a nice pair of cheetah print slippers to cover your chilly toes, and one of the two hundred paper face masks you’d ordered off of Amazon in an attempt to clear your skin, when the loud bang on your front door startled you. Not only did your family not live in town, but your neighbors knew that you weren’t a people person. Ever since you made that very clear to them upon moving in, they hadn’t tried to contact you, so you just assumed whoever it was had gotten the wrong flat number.

But the knocking persisted.

Lucifer’s head had picked up from her lap upon hearing the first knock, now watching as you made our way closer to the front door. “What do I do?” but the only response you received was her head tilting to the right, like she was saying ‘Really? Answer it you idiot.’

You wanted to be angry, you really did, because you were nearly ready to be completely settled in for the night after a terribly long day and you just wanted to watch some bad tv with Luci, but the moment you twisted the door knob and peered into the hallway, any anger you had felt, completely washed away.

“Hey! Sorry, my mates and I-” he abruptly stopped mid sentence once his eyes landed on you, like his train of thought literally face planted into a brick wall. A look of realization flashed across his face quickly, and in a matter of milliseconds, what was once stress turned into a look of excitement. “Hey! It’s you!” he smiled.

“It’s me.” something about him made it very difficult for you not to mirror his smile, but that desire was overpowered by the confusion coursing through your mind.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! I still feel terrible about what happened, are you sure you were alright? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The man was incredible at changing his emotions at the drop of a dime, for now his eyes were laced with concern where excitement had just lived. “Or I guess I should say I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He was much more put together this time, the workout attire you had last seen him in was traded in for a pair of light red slacks that looked to be a crushed velvet material paired with a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black vans. He looked like any university boy you’d see walking the streets, but at the same time, like nothing you had ever seen before. Something about him standing in your doorway brought you a sense of calm, like just his presence was enough to wash away the stresses of your day.

“I mean I can’t say that it felt particularly good, but I didn’t get burned, no.”

“Oh good. That’s good.” he nodded, and you made the mistake of following his hand with your eyes as he lifted it up to his curls to fix the glasses perched on his head. You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what kind of fate the universe had in store for him because the peace he had brought to you in the few moments he’d been standing there felt better than anything had in the past few years. But you were never that lucky.

Your eyes quickly casted back down, looking back at the white of his shirt while you cleared your throat. “Did you need something….” you dragged out the end of the word to indicate that you didn’t know what to call him since he hadn’t bothered to mention his name.

“Oh, right. ‘M Harry.”

“Georgie.

“Hello Georgie.” if possible, the grin on his face doubled in size, causing two dimples to appear at the corners and the air in your chest to feel as though it was tightening.

The two of you stood in your doorway without saying anything for another moment before you spoke up; “So did you need something or…”

“Fuck, yeah.” his voice was breathy when he responded, standing up straighter, “My mates and I just saw you come home and we’re in desperate need of a needle and thread. You’ve got one?”

It only took a second for him to realize his words and that surprised look from when you first opened the door was back. His eyes widened and his hands raised in front of him as a way to stop you before you could respond.

“Not in a creepy way! We weren’t like watching you or summat, swear! My mates Niall and Louis just moved in across the hall.” using his thumb he pointed to the open door across the hall where you could see two other guys watching yours and Harry’s interaction. Upon realizing they were spotted, they raised their hands in a small wave. “We heard you come in. Not that we were actively listening! Just - ‘m sorry. I swear we aren’t creeps.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to sic my monster of a dog on you.” you replied, turning to dig through the small table in what could barely be considered an entryway. The table had started out as a place to keep your keys and mail, but like most did, quickly turned into a junk drawer. An abyss to put any and everything only to never see it again.

Harry’s eyes frantically looked behind you like some crazy monster was about to lunge at him for bothering you at night, even going as far as taking a small step back when the door opened a bit wider while you were looking for the tool. You laughed when glancing up quickly at the movement. It was obvious he was panicking at the new information of potentially getting mauled by a massive dog while simply asking for thread. So you put him out of his misery.

“There’s no dog. I’m just joking…”

As if on cue, Lucifer waltzed up to see what was going on at the front door, her small body weaving between your legs to get a nice scratch while checking out the never before seen man. “Oh! A cat! I love cats!”

“Yeah she’s pretty great.” you nodded, closing the drawer and holding your hand out to Harry. “Here you go. Um, not sure what colour you need so you can just take the whole bag.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! Niall has a date in ten minutes and he’s split his only good pair of trousers.” he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the boys inside the other flat, trying to seem like they weren’t listening to the conversation, but very obviously doing just that. “Have to sew him in like ‘m some sort of tailor.” he chuckled, turning back to face you.

“Sounds like an exciting night.”

“Oh riveting. I would ask if you’d like to join but you look very busy-” the corners of his lips were trying hard not to curl upwards with the light sarcasm, wobbling a bit as he continued speaking, “-so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anymore than I already have. I’m sure I’ll see you again, I practically live with these two idiots.”

“‘M sure I will.” Luci hadn’t left your side since joining you at the door, instead, she began meowing quite loudly, so you bent down to scoop her into your arms.

You liked Harry, not only because he was a very obviously a good looking man, but because he seemed to pick up on your social cues fairly quickly. He didn’t linger and try to get as much out of you as possible or make the fact that you clearly didn’t have much interest in talking uncomfortable. And it was the first time in a long time that you felt content being around someone. Not fearing what the future brought.

Harry halted his movements halfway between flats and spun back around quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you press kisses to Lucifer’s head while standing in the doorway. Something you gathered from the very brief times you’d shared an encounter was that Harry was not very good at hiding his emotions. It was almost like he had no control of his mouth, because you could see him try to stop the smile from spreading, but it was no use. The dimples popped out in full force.

“I still owe you for that coffee.”

“Oh, um not a coffee.”  you tried not to be loud enough for him to hear, noting that the fact that it wasn’t a coffee was not really that important, but he heard you anyway.

“Pardon?”

“Just um, it wasn’t a coffee. More of a hot chocolate drinker actually.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead just continued watching you with fond eyes and a now very prominent smile. You felt as though he could sense how out of touch with relationships you had begun to get over the years. What other explanation could he have for being so soft with someone he had just met and barely even known

“Right, well keep your schedule open so I can take you out for that replacement cocoa.”

Your door swiftly closed the second he turned back around, not leaving any extra seconds for him to turn around and look at you again. And the second she heard the click of the lock, Luci leaped out of your arms and made her way over to the sofa, meowing her entire journey.

“Yes that was him.” another meow. “I told you he was cute, and I also told you nothing would be happening there.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said you’d be seeing him again. It seemed as though every day when you got back to your flat, he was there. Sometimes on his way out, other times just standing outside the door waiting for the other boys. And despite how at peace being around Harry had made you feel that day he came knocking at your door, you never put in much more effort than a “hello” here and there. He and the others had tried quite a few times to get you to join them on their night out, but each time you came up with a different excuse. Even if they were comforting, what was the point in forming that friendship when you knew you’d just isolate yourself again eventually. You had made it this long without getting too close to anyone else, and you weren’t going to start just because two attractive lads moved in across the hall who happened to have a very fit, very inviting, friend.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you actually had a full conversation with Harry again.

Typically you tried not to go to the coffee shop by your flat any later than lunchtime because it just got too busy. There were too many people for you to fully avoid them all and seeing too many clocks dampened your mood significantly. But you had already had a shitty morning and needed something to give you a boost.

The place had felt very melancholy since Rita’s unfortunate passing last month, she’d passed peacefully in her sleep while spending time with her family. You’d sent the family flowers as remembered, and also made sure to drop a few bills in the jar on the counter each time you’d been in the shop. Other employees were setting up a fund for Rita’s family since she was such a loved member of the community just with the joy she brought from behind the counter.

“Just a large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“For here or take away?”

“Take away please.”

“Actually she’ll have that for here, please.” a familiar voice behind you spoke up as you were digging through your bag for your wallet. You could see him out of the corner of your eye move from his spot behind you, to gradually standing next to you, looking directly at the barista behind the counter.

“Um..” you felt bad for the young kid, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen and all he wanted to do was get to work and get out. But here you were making his day more stressful than it needed to be. “So… for here then?”

“Harry I -”

“Come on Georgie. Please.” never in your life had you seen a grown man bat his eyelashes, but here he was, trying to lure you in with his breathtaking green eyes.

“Fine.” your voice came out soft and you rolled your eyes, but on the inside you felt giddy, like what you remember life to feel like before you started isolating yourself. “Um, sorry. I’ll have it for here I suppose.”

“Do you want the cream?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll have a -” Harry’s profile was something you could get lost in. How the tip of his nose seemed to bounce with every word he said, how it looked as if his lips were made to form the words falling from between them, or how no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay back, one of his curls would continue to break loose from the rest and fall past his forehead. From what little you’ve seen of it, Harry had a great sense of fashion. Comfortable. A brown teddy bear jumper was covering his upper body, sleeves long enough to gather just past his hands and torso short enough that you could see his white shirt peeking out from underneath, ripped black jeans, a pair of black chelsea boots, and  those same tortoise shell glasses perched on his nose completed his look.  

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready? ‘ve got a table back by the door.”

The two of you made your move to walk back towards the front of the shop, but you halted in your tracks when you saw that yes, he in fact did have a table waiting for him, but it was also being inhabited by the two boys you had seen behind him when he came to ask for thread. Neal and Liam? And a girl was sitting between the two as they chatted amongst themselves.

“Harry I don’t -”

“Come on, I promise we don’t bite.” Apparently you still didn’t look convinced because he leaned down to be at your eye level and stuck his lip out in a pout. “One drink. Please? I owe you remember?”

“Yes and you’ve already bought me a new one, thank you by the way, so you don’t owe me anything else.”

“I know.” the apples of his cheeks began getting pinker the longer he stared at you, “But I’d very much like to spend some time with you.”

Just like he did when he knocked on your door, his eyes widened and immediately seemed to want to backtrack what he had said. “Wait no, not in that way. In like a ‘hey I think you’re cute -’ no fuck that’s not -”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“One drink.”

The relief was instant on his features, his shoulders sagging and eyebrows un-furrowing at your words. “Good. Afraid my mates were going to start thinking I made you up.”

“I live across the hall, they’ve seen me.”

“Well yeah, but I talk about you so much they thi- I - fuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from between your lips. You may not have had many friendships or relationships of any kind, but you did know excessive rattling wasn't generally how people spoke to one another.  “You babble a lot.”

“Only when ‘m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Harry wasted no time in his response, taking a quick glance over to you. “Because I finally get to spend time with the pretty girl across the hall.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks had become something of a common occurrence when speaking with Harry. It wasn’t obvious if he knew what he was doing or not, but you couldn’t imagine someone like Harry not knowing how to flirt. Thankfully, however, someone from the table spoke up before you could dwell on his comment longer than necessary.

“Finally!” the man sitting at the end of the booth spoke. He was dressed very similar to Harry in color - a tan quilted shirt was hidden beneath a cream colored teddy bear jacket, and pleated brown trousers. The light facial hair stubbled along his cheeks made him look slightly older than Harry, but his complete baby face counteracted that.

Harry looked at you briefly, raising his eyebrows with a ‘what did I tell you?’ kind of look as he bent down to slide into the booth next to the other man. His style was much different than the other two, more streetwear. He was wearing black trackies and an old gray band tee under a denim jacket, baseball hat and the very apparent smell of cigarettes finishing off the outfit. Another difference with him was that he had a girl with him. What you assumed to be his girlfriend by the way her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand fell on her knee. She was beautiful, long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, only kept back by the fragile looking sunnies that rested at the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white top and a pair of white,black, and brown plaid trousers, both of which were overshadowed by the beautiful black Balenciaga jacket hanging off of her shoulders.

“Was starting to think you’d been lying about actually knowing her, Haz.” the one closest to Harry spoke, earning a light slap to his chest from the girl on his shoulder.

Harry disregarded all of their antics and turned to pat the seat next to him, indicating he wanted you to sit down, and he gave you a reassuring nod when you nibbled your lower lip between your teeth.

It was subtle acts like Harry letting you sit on the outside of the booth so you could make a quick getaway if needed that reminded you how easily he seemed to pick up on your social cues - even if you didn’t realize you did them. It made your chest tickle that even just from the two substantial conversations you’d had with him, Harry picked up on things you did.

“Piss off.” Harry chuckled, reminding you a lot of friendships you’d seen on tv where they all take the piss but it was easy to see that they all cared for one another. It was something you’d always been envious of while watching the world from the sidelines. “Georgie, this is Niall, Louis, and Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor. Everyone, this is Georgie.”

You were met with a chorus of hellos and you would’ve loved to just jump right into their conversation about the best places to get guacamole, just so that they knew you weren’t intentionally being rude to them. But not only were you not good at this conversation thing, but you also were still on edge about forming any sort of connection with these people. Apparently you should get used to Harry and his all knowing mind, because before you could excuse yourself from the awkwardness, he spoke up.

“So, how long have you lived in the building?”

Unprepared for the question, you froze for a second. “Oh, um going on six years now.”

“Impossible! What are you, like twenty? No way you’ve lived there that long!” Eleanor asked, her head no longer on Louis’ shoulder, instead she was sitting upright and looking directly at you. Of course, over the span of the years, you had gotten quite good at looking at people without really paying any attention to what was only visible to you above their heads, but it still made you uneasy. The best solution was just not to look at them at all. But these people, people who had no idea who you were a mere ten minutes ago yet were now welcoming you into their lives, made you want to work on avoiding the numbers. Because this was the most alive you’d felt in years.

“‘M twenty three. Be twenty four next Friday.”

“No shit! Alright well I’m coming over so you can teach me your skincare routine because you look flawless.” she gleamed, leaning forward on the table to jot down her phone number on one of the many spare napkins littering the tabletop.

“As much as I love a good skincare routine, let’s not skip over the more important part of that sentence. Your birthday is next week?” Harry asked, gently shoving his shoulder against yours and offering a kind smile when you glanced up at him.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I turned like eleven.” your parents used to throw you a party every year while growing up, a lavish over the top kind of party where all of your classmates were invited and family you had never even heard of pinched your cheeks. But as time went on and you didn’t give up your ‘ridiculous fantasy’ as your mother so kindly put it, they began to stop throwing the party. Now, you were lucky if they sent you a card on the day. Plus, celebrating your birthday alone is kind of a downer.

“You haven’t celebrated your birthday in over a decade?” Niall’s mouth hung open like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Nope.”

“Well that just won’t do.” you may not know very much about the people seated around you, but the smirk on Louis’ face told you everything you needed to know. “We’re having a party.”

“Um, thank you. Really. But parties aren’t really my thing. Plus I’m working that day so…”

“Oh, where do you work?” Harry asked, thoroughly interested in where you spend most of your days.

“Good Samaritan.”

“The nursing home down on Adams?”

“That’s the one. I’m a caregiver.” when you first applied for the position, you thought you were crazy. For someone who doesn’t want to get close to anyone in fear of their untimely demise, you definitely went for a job exactly the opposite. But that was the appeal to you. Sure, it was terribly sad to see one of your patients pass, but in the time leading up to it, you knew exactly who needed a little extra love. It was nice to be able to remind their loved ones to visit while making routine phone calls, and to do things to make them smile in what only you knew were their last days. It was the only time you thought what you were born with was some kind of gift. The tiniest most unwelcomed gift.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s voice was gently next to you, like he was hanging on to every short word that you said.

“Well, we’ll just have a party once you’re done with work.” Louis shrugged, but held his hands up when you opened your mouth to remind him you didn’t want anything. “Not a party, a friendly get together with friendly neighbors and alcohol.”

That day in the cafe was the beginning to a new start for you.

Obviously Lucifer had to hear about everything that happened that afternoon, but she was there to experience it first hand when Eleanor came knocking on your door the following day. She got to watch as you bent over in genuine laughter at your shared banter. She watched from the kitchen counter as Harry came by with food one night, saying he just happened to order extra lo mein and heard you come home. And as the two of you sat in the living room watching Big Brother, talking about everything from your favorite color to why he majored in physical therapy in university. Luci got to watch you break out of the shell you’d worked so hard on forming around you, and even though you knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, you liked to think her frequent meows were those of encouragement.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The yells came from all corners of the room when you walked into Louis’s flat the following Friday, making your eyes widen and shoulders straighten. As much progress as you’d been making in your life, with branching out and slowly losing your fear of connection, it would take more than a week to crack down those barriers you’d built so high for so long.

“Thank you.” you laughed, putting down the bottle of wine you’d brought just in time for everyone to start surrounding you in hugs.

“Happy Birthday, love.” Harry’s voice was soothing in your ear, like a sense of relief in the overstimulation the other three had given you. You didn’t regret their company like you would have only a month ago, instead you welcomed the foriegn feelings. But it was still nice to have a moment of calm to fully process everything.

“Thank you Harry.”

“I hope it’s not too much. I told them to cool it on the balloons and confetti - especially since we all know I’ll be the one to pick it up in the morning.” he laughed, offering you a glass of wine that everyone else seemed to already be enjoying.

“No, no, it’s great. A nice segway from doing nothing every year.”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t celebrated your birthday in so long! That’s a day that should be celebrated by everyone!”that same look you’d grown to quite enjoy flashed over his features, his momentary distress as he realized he said something he wasn’t planning on sharing. But the look disappeared when he saw your knowing smile. “Don’t start.”

As promised, there was no party, per say. Everyone was just scattered around Louis’ living room telling stories about absolutely nothing that had everyone in stitches. It was the kind of party you’d always been envious of, one where mates could hang out and lose themselves in the company of each other. It was the first time you didn’t have a single thought about impending doom for more than an hour, a feit you would be sure not to forget.

Niall was laid out on the floor under the windows, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand and the other rested on his stomach, occasionally itching an invisible nuisance. Louis was seated in the arm chair directly across from Niall, a very buzzed Eleanor draped across his lap and the more the night went on, the less chances you had of seeing their faces separated. And Harry was seated next to you on the sofa, his arm hung on the back of the cushion in such a way that everyone so often you would feel the very tips of his fingers skim the exposed skin on your shoulder.

You wished you could freeze this moment in time, because a photograph or video would never do it justice. It was almost as if you were watching the night play out in front of you like a movie, not really in your body but watching from afar. Watching as the girl who hid herself from the world began to hatch, slowly cracking the hard exterior surrounding her. And you would do anything to bottle the feeling of pride that swelled in your chest knowing you had achieved that.

“Literally right in the face mate. No joke.” Niall cackled, his laugh a contrast in that moment; escaping his mouth loudly but carrying throughout the room softly. Taking off like a leaf blowing through the fall breeze.

“Georgie.” your name slipped from between Harry’s lips beautifully, like he was created for the sole purpose of saying your name over and over again; forever. “Alright?”

And sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, listening to your friends’ wine induced giggles, looking at the most captivating pair of green eyes and curly hair that only whatever magical being that was above could’ve created, you were alright. You were so alright that the minuscule ticks of the clocks of your new and only friends, ticks you tried so hard to avoid paying attention to, almost seemed to disappear completely. Almost.

71 years, 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes, 55 seconds. 68 years, 11 months, 3 days, 19 hours, 43 minutes, 2 seconds. 68 years, 7 months, 21 days, 1 hour, 58 minutes, 33 seconds. 62 years, 8 months, 9 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds. 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, 23 hours, 34 minutes, 56 seconds.

[spidercakes]

SIM Prompt if you will - SIM had kidnapped Peter from the MCU dimension to replace his Peter that was murdered. Peter was taken against his will, but after receiving injections of Extremis, he forgets his old dimension and takes his place at SIM’s side.

Yaaaaas! And, because I’m a hoe for ‘only soft for one person’ Tony is only soft for Peter, kind of (like, he does kidnap the dude and force him into his own version of Peter against his will but he does it out of ‘love’).

Warnings: non-con experimentation with extremis, kind of non con in general? Like Peter is willing, but only after some real extreme circumstances that kind of strip him of his decision making skills. So like mostly non con dub con, I guess.

*

Peter is panicked and Tony figures he has a right to be. Holding someone with his strength hostage is difficult but he'd long ago figured out how to hold super people in his grasp- he’d had to kill a good number of them too. He could kill Peter too, but he’s hoping this one will work out. It had taken time to find him and this one is the most like his Peter, even his life events are the same. Not, he supposes, that he’ll remember that soon enough. But he does need to gain his trust first and that’ll be easier if he looks like his Tony. They’re already virtually identical, but the eyes are off. His Tony’s are a rich brown and his are a bright blue, almost unnatural looking but that’s because of the extremis.

Still, he needs to get Peter to trust him long enough for him to give him a dose of extremis, one of several he’ll need to properly rewrite over Peter’s DNA altered as it is. God damn spider, he’d had to find at least one hundred of the fucking things to figure out how it rewrote the victim’s DNA to begin with so he could properly modify extremis to code over it. Peter’s formula won’t allow for shape shifting the way his does and while he’s never had a use for it before, he’s already the perfect version of himself, he finds it useful now as he forcibly turns his eyes a dark brown. It looks off to him in the mirror, strange and unpleasant to look at, but it’s this or run the risk of Peter flailing around and he has no time for that. This has taken long enough, he wants his Peter back.

When he’s satisfied that he looks enough like Peter’s Tony, including a little grey in his normally dark brown hair, he makes his way out to Peter. He looks terrified, eyes wide and red rimmed as he looks around, locating Tony fast. Easy to do with super hearing. For a moment he stiffens, sure that he’s... well himself Tony is sure, but he relaxes when he notices the eyes. Excellent, then.

“Oh my god, Tony! Please get me out of here there’s another you and he’s insane and-”

“Shh,” Tony tells him as he steps up onto the platform that Peter is currently held on. He’s on his knees, arms drawn back behind him just a little too far to be comfortable. He’s found its the easiest way to hold people with Peter’s abilities. He supposes he can thank one Miles Morales for that knowledge. “I’m going to make you better, but you need to relax,” he tells Peter.

Peter frowns, “wha- what does that mean?” he asks, confused.

He brushes his fingers along Peter’s jawline, catching him off guard but it does result in him relaxing. Excellent, so he does have feelings for his Tony. Good, that’ll make this easier. Most of his memory will be wiped, but he’s hoping being here for the process will keep some of the knowledge of who he is around. It’ll make things easier later, when Peter takes his place by his side where he should be.

“I need you to relax, baby,” Tony murmurs, “this is gunna sting a little.” Peter frowns again but the needle is already in his neck and gone before he can think to shake his head any. Peter gasps, eyes going wide as the formula takes hold and Tony sinks down to his knees in front of him, letting his eyes fade back to their natural blue. “Shh, baby let it do its work. You’ll perfect after, just perfect,” he murmurs, petting Peter’s face softly. Peter whimpers and that hurts to hear but its a necessary evil.

*

The next round of extremis goes slightly better. Peter is disoriented and confused, but Tony tells him that he’s making him better, perfect, and he relaxes some. When he injects Peter the second time he waits, stressed, not too far away because a good number of his test subjects died at this point. Miles Morales had died, Jessica Drew, another version of Peter that had been just to the left of who his Peter was and he’s happy that he found this superior version of Peter now. The only thing off is his hair color, which is a little darker than his Peter’s. 

But after several modifications to the extremis formula Gwen Stacy lived so he waits to see whether its successful on Peter too. After this it’ll need one more dose to fully rewrite his DNA and rid him of his pesky memories of his past life.

He waits for what feels like hours until Peter pulls through successfully and he lets himself relax. Peter is breathing heavily as he kneels beside him, petting his hair away from his face as he releases him from his restraints. Peter falls into his arms immediately, curling them around him and he lets out a sigh that damn near resembles a sob. Oh, he’s missed this. “Shh, baby I’m here,” he tells Peter softly. “I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he says as he pets Peter’s hair. “Lets get you to a bed, hmm?”

*

He waits by Peter’s bed waiting for him to wake up form his third round of extremis, the proper amount to mostly wipe the brain of memory. Plenty remains, but anything about his past life should be gone by now and it shouldn’t come back. Gwen Stacy has yet to regain her memories of her past self and now that Peter is back he won’t need to keep her around as a lab rat anymore. His work is done and so is hers.

It takes time but eventually Peter wakes up and Tony raises an eyebrow. Peter smiles a little, completely unthreatened despite the fact that he’s not disguising himself as his old Tony. Good. “What?” he asks, propping himself up onto his elbow.

Tony smiles at him too, “nothing, its just that your eyes are beautiful,” he says. They’re a brighter topaz shade than they were before, too bright to be completely natural so it must be a side effect of the extremis. He doesn’t mind the difference.

Peter smiles fondly and he wonders what he remembers to be looking at him like that. “You’re too nice,” he says and Tony resists the urge to laugh. Its been a long time since anyone used that word to describe him. Might have been his Peter, before his untimely death, actually.

“Mhm. What do you remember, baby?” he asks, reaching out and settling a hand over Peter’s.

He’s surprised, but not disappointed, when Peter lays his free hand over his. “I um... remember that... I don’t know, I must have gotten kidnapped I guess but you were there and you got me out. I must have been sick or something because I felt really feverish and you told me you were gunna make me better and I guess you did it because I feel fine now,” he says.

So he has some memories of his past but... well, if he were to guess they blended with whatever feelings he previously had for his Tony and transferred to him. That’s... not an anticipated side effect but he’s not going to complain about it either. “That’s good, baby. Anything else?” he asks, hoping to tease out any problems before they become problems.

Peter thinks, frowning just a little as his eyebrows draw together. “...No. That’s really weird because- oh my god, I don’t... don’t remember us, I’m so sorry-” he starts but Tony shuts him up with a kiss.

“Shh, its okay. I don’t need you to remember how you feel to know, okay? We can work on that later. So that’s it then, you just remember a little of what happened?” he asks, purposefully evading reinforcing what actually happened. No need to give him more to go on, if he’s lucky the memory will mostly fade over time anyway. If he’s extra lucky he’ll forget it entirely.

Peter relaxes some before he perks up, “do we have cookies?” he asks and Tony can’t help his smile. His Peter had liked cookies entirely way too much too.

“Of course baby. And while you probably eat the whole box I’ll reacquaint you with the house,” he says. And all his stuff- well, the other version of him’s stuff. This Peter is the closest he’s found to his and he’s going to make sure he’ll be exactly what he wants right down to what he wears.

Unaware of his plans Peter looks excited, “awesome!”

*

Peter is curled into his side sleeping in one of his shirts exactly the way his Peter used to. Its relieving to see after so long and this one is so perfect, just like his old Peter. He didn’t even question his wardrobe, he just slipped right into the previous Peter’s outfits without issue despite the fact that he knows this Peter never dressed the way his did. He’s happy to see Peter back and he thinks the ache in his heart will lessen as Peter slowly learns his role. It helps that he’s fully reliant on him to explain what he did and how he did it and he’s so sweet, so trusting. He takes his word at face value and does whatever he says, no questions.

God, he loves Peter. He’s missed him so much.

“Boss,” Ultron says over the speakers.

Tony makes an irritated noise, “what?” he asks, annoyed to be interrupted with his time with Peter.

“It looks like the version of you from the dimension has breached into this one,” he says and Tony lets out another irritated noise.

“Would you shut up!” he hisses at the AI. “Where is he?” he adds.

Peter stirs and shit, he better not have heard any of that.

“Outter limits of the city,” Ultron tells him.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Tony panics for a moment. “Nothing baby, just a small snag outside the city I have to deal with. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he murmurs, kissing Peter softly.

He melts into it, so soft and compliant. “Will you be okay?” he asks, eyes a little wide.

“Of course I will be baby, its nothing much,” he says, brushing a curl out of Peter’s face.

He lets out a soft huff, “then why do you have to go deal with it? Let someone else do it and stay here with me,” he murmurs, arms around Tony’s neck.

He sighs, giving Peter another kiss. “I’m the one who’s presiding over the city, its my job to deal with problems. I won’t take long, I promise,” he murmurs into Peter’s mouth.

Peter smiles, “great power comes with great responsibility. My uncle used to say that,” he says.

Curious, in this dimension his aunt and uncle died when he was a child. He happens to know that his parents died in the dimension Peter is from, though its strange that he remembers that. Or parts of it. Maybe he should keep Gwen around a little longer, prod her for more details of her past to see what bits and pieces she remembers. Strong emotional moments seem to be the connecting line so far, but he’s not looking to have to redo his extremis formula and risk Peter. But he’ll worry about that later.

“So it does. I’ll be back soon, baby,” he tells Peter, giving him one final kiss before he’s off.

*

He’s not hard to find in that ostentatious suit but Tony has to admit he’s impressed with the amount of anger on his face. “If you hurt him-” he starts and Tony rolls his eyes.

“He’s fine, perfect even. Go home,” he says, waving him off. He knows he won’t be nearly that easy to deal with but he can hope.

The other Tony snorts, “yeah, not a fucking chance,” he says as a line of iron man suits appear around them both. Theoretically they’re surrounded but he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve too.

“That’s cute,” he says, already half connected to the bots and that’s... strange. They seem to be connected to the other Tony’s mind too, but not via extremis. Hmm. Guess it’ll be a battle of wills then, and he’s not prepared to lose.

[jesslivesau]

jess au @iloveeverythingwaytoomuch

pre show jess: doesn't know anything except that sam told her some fucked up shit and she didn't really believe him much like amelia didn't believe jimmy but what's clear to her is that sam's upbringing was deeply fucked up in what might've been some kind of apocalypse doomsday cult and she can say "sam, it wasn't real" as much as she can til she's blue in the face but it isn't going to change the fact that sam is Deeply Fucked Up by Shit. and it upsets her and confuses her but he does a good job of setting it aside or knowing when to give in and he's such a sweet and Loving Dude otherwise so she just files it away in her bf trauma bank and keeps cheering him on

s1 jess: your bf's CRAZY brother shows up says he needs help finding your bf's CRAZY dad who may or may not have been part of a doomsday cult and you say, bitch i watched the heaven's gate documentary there is NO WAY i'm letting you leave with him, but he's not gonna Stay cuz he insists it's just for one night (and his brother DOES seem relatively stable, like, as a person), so jess insists she'll go too. while she's in the back seat sam tells dean he told her everything dean's like lol. sure. you believe in ghosts, sweetheart? and jess is like no but i do believe that i'll kick your ass if we don't get home in time for sam's interview tomorrow morning. and then the whole white woman thing happens and she's like oh fuck it's REAL but they DO GO HOME and instead of jess dying on the ceiling there's like idk ghost mary on the ceiling or some shit and they NARROWLY escape the fire together andddd idk they can't go back to stanford cuz it's not safe and their apartment complex literally went up in flames. there’s a more complex reason here but idk what it is. maybe it was brady (demon brady) who died or something IDK LISTEN ITS JUST AN AU

anyway all of season 1 when they’re trying to track down john jess is the voice of reason asking why do they need john in the first place? And eventually sam is like listen we don’t need HIM but if he’s got research on where yellow eyes is, that’s what we need. and dean is mad about that and he’s mad at jess and they bicker like crazy. and sam sleeps on the floor because dean is like dude cmon. don’t make me sleep in the same room as you and your gf together. maybe meg gets replaced by meg possessing jess, and she doesn’t get thrown out the window so when they exorcise her she just needs a hospital and then she’ll be ok. and that would explain why she’s in the hospital and not there for the finale, but can meet up with sam & john & dean in the hospital after

s2 jess: sam is so consumed by grief and fear that jess is actually the first one to notice that dean’s spirit might still be still Around. i’m imagining a scene where sam is asleep next to dean’s bed and jess is awake, and she slowly looks around towards dean and you see ghost!dean Connecting with her for the first time

obviously, all the grief episodes keep happening. maybe jess got seriously hurt as well tbh so she goes back to her parents house to recover; there’s an episode where the boys go meet her parents and dean and sam’s Daddy Issues come out in full force. eventually jess is back and kicking ass and slowly getting along more with dean, partially perhaps because of dean’s Grief Response to john’s death, which is that all the anger and hate comes bubbling up, and jess is like i don’t fucking know this dude, but from what sam’s told me, i hate him, which is not something that sam is in a position to Deal With right now. things proceed pretty much along the course

i am considering now if jess could also be a special child. she also has some kind of psychic abilities but i’d have to choose something cool for her. anyway if she IS then that gets her in the town with sam in all hell breaks loose which i think is the best place for her during that arc? i know all the other special children supposedly had to die but maybe her psychic power was to go inviisble or something lmfao i don’t fucking know. anyway dean has his sad monologue but jess either (a) fully shuts down or (b) just goes STRAIGHT to hunt down whatever the fuck his name is. jake? leverage man? that would be dope actually. and then actually dean, sam, bobby, and ellen actually meet her at the hell’s gate

s3 jess: truly does not understand why they’re hunting. gets into arguments with the boys all the time about how this is pointless, if you’re not gonna try and save yourself then why can’t you just put it down and let yourself have this year?? and dean’s a little bit like you know what jessica that makes a lot of damn sense. but it makes sam mad and they argue a lot about it and jess probably takes off halfway through the season. maybe after malleus maleficarum? partly cuz that’s the ep where ruby more or less becomes part of the team and also when she confirms that she can’t save dean from hell. and i just feel like jess would be like i cannot.... Sit Here.... and watch you both drive yourself into the ground. dean, if you’re gonna die, sam’s coming after you. you knew that. you just didn’t want him to go first.

maybe dean hits her lmfao and sam screams at him for it and jess just Walks Away, tearfully

s4 jess: so jess bailed midway through s3, but when dean wakes up and starts making calls in that phonebooth, he calls bobby and bobby hangs up, so he calls jess. and she comes and gets him.

jess and sam are obviously not together anymore, but jess is totally civil with sam and even with ruby. she’s like we can work together, it’s fine, whatever. and this is the season where dean and jess really bond and become a good Team. and cas is just usually confused why jess is Around but eventually gets used to her. i’ve toyed with jess being jewish which would lend a good and also funny perspective to all the heaven and hell stuff

jess heard about hell first from dean, but not the specifics of the stuff that dean told sam, not until after on the head of a pin. she’s their Lore Expert on seals and is trying to identify as many of them as possible so they can put in place safeguards, and maybe that bumps her up against angel priorities for an episode. maybe we get an episode where cas has to Threaten her 00 and he can say something like sam and dean are important..... you are not. remember that. and then [flappy wings vanish]

uhhhh jess’s siren in the siren episode....... is just like a carbon copy of sam lmfao. which is extremely funny and sam and jess will both kind of awkwardly clear their throats and not address that. i guess jess is just fucking stuck with bobby during the finale because the point of her presence is that she’s so USELESS to both demons and angels

s5 jess:  i’d probably add in an early episode where her parents are killed, probably by demons because the demons know they can’t touch the winchesters due to angel shit but they can fuck up jess as much as they want. then when sam and dean temporarily split up jess would go with dean cuz she’s a hunter now and has nowhere else to go and it doesn’t feel right to just sit around with sam. or maybe she also leaves and splits up and doesn’t stick with dean cuz she’s processing her own traumatic shit. at any rate, early in the season there’s a moment where sam is Gone and dean and jess are drinking together and talking about their feelings and they have a moment where they gaze at each other in the eyes and almost lean towards each other.... then jess goes you know what? this is fucking weird and dean is like oh thank god you said that absolutely this is too weird

in The End, it’s revealed that jess was killed and no one will tell dean more information or talk about her until he finds out that she was pregnant when she was killed (presumably with sammifer’s baby)

in changing channels they get put into a telenovela and sam and jess have an tearful emotionally charged confession scene in spanish. this is about when sam and jess finally get back together [cue cheering]

in the chuck eps it’s revealed chuck rewrote it so that jess died on the ceiling in the first book cuz he was like “i just didn’t think it made sense for her to be alive! it was literary symmetry that’s all!”

in sam, interrupted when sam is all high on meds that’s when he says lots of kooky sweet shit to jess about wanting to MARRY her and have a FAMILY together and it’s sweet and also dean throws up in his mouth a little bit having to hear it

in my bloody valentine the thing that jess is hungry for is Family but i do not know the logistics of how

in dark side of the moon jess does die with the boys but it takes a while to find her, tho they eventually do in one of sam’s favorite memories (probably from the first time they met or something). she’s like what the fuck i’m jewish

no, i have no clue how she factors into swan song. she just does, ok. lucifer can snap her neck along with bobby’s

s6 jess: she tried to check in with dean occasionally at the braedens, and actually had dinner with them once but started checking in less and less as the year went on, and it turns out she knew that sam was back and she’d been hunting with him + the campbells and a couple things

when dean finds out he is truly FURIOUS, but jess is like dean i saw you with lisa and ben! i saw you getting better! i saw you happy, i saw you ok, and hell i’ve only known you since you showed up in palo alto five years ago but it was the most at peace i’ve ever seen you, and i couldn’t take that away from you, and neither could sam.

she’s also like yes, dean, he’s different, he’s colder, it makes me sad but who was the one who put up with YOU when you were spiralling after your dad’s death? or when you were all buttoned up after you came back from hell? he did! so show him a god damn OUNCE of empathy, would you!

and when they find out he’s soulless jess is like. hm. and dean is like i TOLD you there was something wrong with him!!! and jess is like i mean.... yeah....... and maybe i didn’t really want to admit it... cuz.... the sex was So good.........

[soulless sam winks at her]

anyway, s6 happens the way it happens and that’s fine

s7: the only important thing that happens in s7 is that Season Seven, It’s Time For a Wedding! is actually about some sort of monster and the only way to kill it is to cast a spell but the spell must be cast by “two warriors joined before god” which means married and cas is awkward about it cuz he doesn’t want to Presume Anything 

and the whole episode is lots of sam and jess being like “i mean, of course, if you want to..... .like, but if you DON’T, that’s also totally fine, of course.... you know.... whatever you’re comfortable with” until finally they’re in the final battle and cas has to marry them the way barbossa does for will and elizabeth in potc and when dean is pinned against the wall by the monster he goes “DAMMIT JESS WILL YOU KISS MY BROTHER ALREADY” and then sam dips jess in a kiss and the monster is instantly obliterated [heart eyes]

i truly genuinely do not remember anything that happens in s7. anyway jess and sam are married now

s8: sam was with jess the whole year dean was in purgatory. they were struggling to get back to normal life after everything. dean is still fucking mad that sam didn’t go looking for him. i assume everything else goes pretty much according to whatever the fuck happened in s8 except jess at one point has to go to bat for benny cuz sam for some reason hates him so much

i’ve been toying with the idea of jess doing the trials not sam but i mean how can i take that away from my Boy

s9: i do not know anything that happened in this season ):

s10: see above

s11: see above

s12: now i never watched s12, but in this au there is no lucifer’s son jack. instead jess gets pregnant midway through the season; cas finds out first because he can sense it and he’s like why does it feel like there’s an extra being in the bunker, and then he spills to dean cuz he can’t keep a secret, and then dean is like “oh shit what are you gonna do” and jess is like well!!!! sam and i.... talked about this. we were.....open to the possibility. and dean is like wtf how could u possibly bring a child into this world that’s fucked up adn cas is like [wipes tear] that’s beautiful

anyway when they come back from some kind of hunt (probably something that involved claire) and sam and jess are in the bunker, sam goes “jess, seeing claire, seeing jody and the girls.... it makes me think.... i wanna have a family with you” and jess hugs him and then cas walks into the bunker with dean and is like “oh, have you told him about the baby?” and everyone SCREAMS at him

and cas uses his annual miracle allowance to just reverse time about 30 seconds so when he enters the bunker he just goes “i have nothing to say” and Fucking Leaves

the baby is born in the back of the impala in the s12 finale, on the way to the hospital. dean is devastated. he’ll have to reupholster the WHOLE THING. sam accidentally names the baby john but they don’t want to tell dean that so they decide to call him jack.

s13-15 gets to be mostly about how cute it is to have a wittle baby in the bunker. cas is the best babysitter because he loves babies and is very powerful so he can protect him. the occultum nonsense in s15 can be about finding a Safe Place for baby jack, no matter what happens to the rest of the world. sam tells jess, you go with him, you’ll be safe there. dean tells sam, you go with them, you’ll be safe there. all of that good good cute family stuff. was it the best idea to have a baby in the middle of constant apocalypses? maybe not, but like, they are ALWAYS in constant apocalypses, so at some point you just have to bite the bullet

anyway. please clap

[moralhymn]

Warning, this is pretty long and it’s pretty opinionated, but I had to put this out there, so... Here we go. Shoving it under a cut so people can ignore it if they want.

I don't even know where to begin on the episode. Maybe let's start with the fact that Square took Ardyn's character and just completely rewrote him. In the game, it's a wonderful motivation; he was given these powers by the Astrals to take daemons from people. He was given the chance to help the subjects of his kingdom and he did his best. The motivation he had? It came about from the fact that he took those gifts and used them as he thought was best, for the betterment of the people of the lands, and in return for this selfless crusade in taking in the daemons? Ardyn was rejected by humanity, by the Crystal, by the Astrals, and betrayed by his brother and humankind alike. He went from altruistic healer of the people to this spiteful, vengeance driven creature and he suffered for over two thousand years because of this, all to wait for Noctis to be born and put an end to him. By the end of the game, he's so very tired, you can see it in him, and he did what no other Final Fantasy villain has done; he wins.

Either he wins and Eos burned to the ground and Noctis is dead, or he loses, he gets the peace he wants, and Noctis is still dead. Either way? Ardyn wins. He gets what he wants out of the situation which he’s managed to set up entirely to his advantage. A lot of people made mention of this during the fight against Ardyn and given that I just beat 15 again the other day, there’s an honestly tremendous tragedy in the fight against him. Ardyn is tired. He’s been suffering for his entire life and he’s tired and wants to rest. Noctis finally gives him the chance for this. It was well done and it was gorgeous and it was painful and tragic and just wonderfully done in the vein of the stories where the hero laid his life down to save the people. Given how much 15 drew from such elements, it was wonderful. You saw, in the end, that Ardyn was as much a victim of the Astrals as Noctis was. That they were both used by the gods. You got to understand this motivation about him. And it was brilliant.

The anime prologue took all of this and they rewrote it entirely.

Instead of exploring the many, many options of like - Ardyn's time as a healer or his need for revenge against the Astrals or explaining how this power came to him or any other interesting topic that I would have loved to have been informed on, they decided to go with what was done in the prologue. They took the spite and the vengeance that was interesting and they shoved Ardyn from "fascinating villain who had once been a hero" and that delicious mix of sarcasm and everything and fucked it up by going, instead, with the whole thing of "this is his episode and it's not even about him really it's about this bullshit romance plot that isn't even a subplot but the entire plot and point of his character" instead.

And then there's Aera.

Aera who, quite honestly, had the character development of a blank sheet of paper with maybe a few scribbled lines on there; if you think that’s overstating it, it really isn’t. Her death produced no emotional response in me whatsoever because I certainly couldn’t find it in myself to be attached to a person without any personality or substance. She was made specifically to just be killed off by Square. Who was, somehow, the first Oracle and founder of the Fleuret line and yet died. All to make Ardyn's motivation for taking down the Lucis Caelum family manpain. Because, apparently, he was in love with a woman he treated with distant politeness and displayed no interest in whatsoever. And while people are saying that he was in love with her, due to how he reacted when she died, that's not good enough. If I had seen someone I cared about being hurt in such a fashion, I'd be losing my shit too; doesn't matter if I only love them or am in love with them. I'd be losing my goddamn mind trying to help them.

Also, there's the fact that she was there, conveniently, to be cut down exactly when she was. You specifically see a shot of Gilgamesh barring her from interfering when Somnus and Ardyn begin hacking at one another and yet, again, for the sake of manpain and angst and convenience, somehow she's in the way when Somnus takes that one cut at Ardyn and he gets to see her falling down and then, again for the sake of shitty plot convenience, she dies in his arms. Huge amount of horseshit right there.

Now, see, if this woman was so important to Ardyn, then surely he would've mentioned her in the game, right? At some point she would have come up. But given that they made her up for the sake of aforementioned manpain and "ardyn's being driven to revenge because his girlfriend died", I just genuinely cannot accept her right now. But in all the datamined information and everything else that people have combed through for the game and whatnot, there's absolutely zilch mention of her at any point, so that furthers the whole fact that she was created JUST to be killed and provide Ardyn with this NEW motivation that he apparently is going through due to what they're saying in the prologue which is a crock of ridiculousness that has me so fucking angry.

Another reason why I'm angry over the prologue is that this whole romance plot was forced upon Ardyn outright and the people who ship Ardyn and Aera have seemed really obnoxious about this. They took this character who had very understandable motivations for his wrath and whatnot and boiled it down to the trope of "het relationship where woman dies for sake of revenge" in 2019. In 20-fucking-19. One artist I follow said that people wouldn't have been upset if it'd been a gay relationship where Ardyn's lover died, if it had been a man or Gilgamesh, since people do ship Gilgardyn, but yes, yes, we would be. We'd be mad because he had been interesting before due to the lack of 'romance hurr lover died hurr revenge revenge revenge hurr'. We’d be mad because gay character death is an awful plot device that too much fiction relies upon. We’d be mad if it was romance, period, because that just does a lot of damage to Ardyn’s character, in my opinion, thanks to the fact that they went with the whole romance thing.

Now, before someone gets offended at me and goes but this is because you’re a shipper and doesn’t this interfere with your ships? and all that, no, this isn’t the reason why I’m angry over the romance. I sincerely believe that had Square given us more than thirteen convoluted minutes of unreliable narration, had they given us time and development on the relationship, then it would be alright. Sort of. I wouldn’t be happy about it, still, because Square obviously pulled this out of their ass, but I could accept it far more easily than I can accept what they gave us in the form of the prologue.

Romance has its time and its place, however, with all of that being said - and I do not believe that it was needed in the prologue. Yes, I can understand the whole “Ardyn was a prince, he would probably have had a betrothed” aspect going on, but making it Aera and pulling all of what they did was such a shit show that I look at the way that they wrote Luna and Noctis and how beautiful that was done ( and I will defend all Noctis ships to the death except one that I don’t ship and will never ship, so leave me be with how much I love LuNoct. ) and then at the prologue and it’s just very, very jarring. It’s very sexist. They made a female character up and then killed her off for the sake of a man feeling emotional pain and nothing more, nothing less. She wasn’t a person. She was just a fluffy bit of plot device they decided to weld, badly, into the canon.

And people are saying that this humanizes Ardyn. People who were apparently fans of his before. And that has me so fucking angry too.

Because anger and spite are very, very human emotions. Ardyn was already humanized. He was already showing such emotions and he did. Not. NEED. A ROMANCE SUBPLOT. TO MAKE HIM SEEM "HUMAN". Ardyn had plenty of motivation. He had so much of it before and to shove this bullshit onto his character and have people say it makes Ardyn more human? It doesn’t. If Aera had actually been intended from the start of the game, if she had actually been important to him, then he would have mentioned her at least once I imagine, if she was actually the reason behind his need to stick it out for two thousand years and destroy his brother’s bloodline. For him to never make mention of her, once, would have made him less human and less relatable as a person. But of course, Square is retconing this, so we’re supposed to just accept it for what it is right now.

The fact that people are flocking to Ardyn now, at all, because he has this "uwu tragic baby angsty baby" facet to his portrayal by Square is outright infuriating. It's taken his character and it's warped it and mucked it up and it was extremely unnecessary for Square to do this. Ardyn was a gorgeous character who had once been a helper and a healer, who was wronged, who wanted retribution for what was done to him. There was no reason for Aera and the romance, none whatsoever, and that really got me so mad. Like, I had been hoping Square wasn't going to do that, low-key anticipating that they would, and was quite disappointed. Ardyn didn't need a love interest to give him reason for his revenge. He already had reason enough due to what had happened to him. Giving Ardyn the bullshit reason of what Square’s saying he had in terms of ‘my brother killed my girlfriend’ is just a genuine insult, not just to Ardyn’s character, but to Aera’s as well.

Now, I know I can’t make an entire judgement on things before Ardyn’s DLC drops, not on his relationship with things, not on Aera, none of that - but there are a lot of issues with the prologue that I am genuinely hoping will be expanded on in the episode and resolved. And if shipping Ardyn with Aera makes you happy, then do so! There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s not my cup of tea, I will admit, but not because it’s a hetero ship. It’s because there’s nothing evocative in there for me. However, I am honestly concerned that they’ll keep her undeveloped and nothing more than a creation of fluff and a couple lines and I’m pretty sure they’ll give us nothing of her personality or motivations or anything of what she wanted or any background and that she’ll be there only for Ardyn to be inspired by her death as Square’s making him out to be. I imagine that Somnus will get more development than she will. I’m pretty sure Somnus will have more development than she will.

Who knows, though? I may be pleasantly surprised. But I am genuinely not holding my breath at this moment in time on that.

All I’m saying is that, as much as people seem to be gleeful that Ardyn has a canon ship? Please look at how Square’s set this up and please see how poorly they’ve written this. I know people will make attempts to fix it in fic and art, but the fact remains that this was very poorly written and that it’s utterly bullshit that Square decided to go with the whole “dead woman for man’s pain and motivation” route and that there are so many reasons why it’s worth being mad at this.

Please see that Square really fucked up with doing this to Ardyn and to Aera.

[willows-horde]

A vampire/Sengoku Basara story I had started. I had so much of this planned but couldn’t seem to get much further than this. The two vampires make an appearance are Cao Pi and Zhen Ji from the Dynasty Warriors series. Cao Pi has the look of his alternate outfit from DW6.

word count: 3354

Italics = English Italics+Underlined = Chinese

He looked up from the map that was spread out on the floor in front of him. Staring at the door he listened intently. There it was, the sound of someone walking in his direction. But they weren't walking normally. It sounded like they were dragging their feet a bit. He glanced over to where he had his swords displayed. Getting up, Masamune walked over and grabbed one before he headed to the door. Just as he slid the door open he thought he heard a mutter come from the person who was only a few feet to his left. Quickly he looked over. There was a woman with long black hair. She took a couple more steps towards him. “Who are you?” Masamune demanded. “What are you do...” he started but stopped as she rushed at him. Quickly, he moved to defend himself but it was already too late. She had grabbed him by the throat and had lifted him up slamming him against one of the wooden pillars. His sword dropped to the floor. “Shit...” He couldn't breath and his feet couldn't reach the floor. She was so fast. And her eyes... they're red.

“So, hungry...” Masamune couldn't understand what she said. Before he really had a chance to act he was punched in the stomach. He let out an involuntary, strained, cough. Just as his vision started to haze, she dropped him. He slumped to the floor gasping for air. He noticed her drop down to her knees in front of him before his head was pulled back by his hair. Quickly, he shifted his gaze at her. She lowered her head next to the right side of his. Masamune could feel something puncture his skin, then the unusual sensation of his blood getting sucked from his body. What..? What the hell? Masamune had heard of stories about this. But that was all they were to him. Stories. But... this... couldn't be real.

Masamune tried to pull back but her grip on him only tightened. He felt weak and a bit faint. At that moment he could see someone walk around the corner a distance away. “Kojuro...” he muttered.

“Masamune-sama!” Kojuro drew his sword and rushed forward. Masamune's finger twitched slightly as he felt the woman pull back. She barely managed to move out of the way in time as Kojuro swung his sword. The sword came within a few inches from his lord, whose head was resting against the wooden pillar. Kojuro turned to the woman who had jumped off the wooden deck. There was some blood on her lips before she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

The anger was quite obvious and she hesitated when she thought she saw a blue hue emitting from Kojuro. She stepped back, paused, than turned and ran off. Kojuro quickly sheathed his sword and turned to his lord, who was stubbornly pushing himself up. When he got to his feet he got incredibly light-headed and would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Kojuro. “Masamune-sama.”

“I'm alright,” he mumbled.

“You are not.”

Masamune shut his eye. There was a dull throb at the bridge of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Just help me back to my room.” Kojuro did as he was told. He brought him to his bed so he could lie down.

“Masamune-sama, who was that woman?” Kojuro asked after he sat down by him.

“No idea,” came the groggy response. Now that he was lying down, Masamune felt tired.

Kojuro paused. Then asked, “Should I try to find her?”

“...Yeah, you do that,” he told him with his eye closed. Kojuro got up and headed for the door, unsure if Masamune was indifferent or if he was just tired. First he retrieved the sword that was left outside and brought it back inside his room. After placing the sword back on its display, he heard a mumbled, “Thanks.” He glanced over at him and offered him a smile before he excused himself from the room.

Without having any luck finding the woman, he informed some of there men to keep an eye out for intruders, since, as he had explained to them, there had been a strange woman here. Kojuro then returned to Masamune's room with some bandages. “Masamune-sama, I've brought some bandages for your injury.” There was no response. Carefully, Kojuro slid the door open and glanced inside. Masamune was fast asleep. Kojuro quietly stepped inside. He wanted to at least see how bad it was. After he knelt down next to him he hesitated. Masamune's hair was in the way and he feared that he would wake up if he tried to move it. Actually, no, he would have woken up from the door being opened. Concerned, Kojuro felt his forehead. It didn't feel like he had a fever.

“Nnh.” Masamune grumbled. He brought up his right arm to brush away Kojuro's hand. Kojuro pulled his hand back before he had the chance. Masamune rested his arm on his forehead for a minute before he shifted his position, turning to his left and resting his arm on his stomach. Now he was lying in a position that made it easy for Kojuro to see his wound. Two small puncture wounds. That's not a normal injury. Something that's normally heard of in stories. A shame they're not just stories. No he knew better. But now he was caught with a dilemma, since he never had to deal with this situation before. He sat quietly for a moment before he bandaged his wound, sighed, than got up and left the room.

Once Kojuro arrived to his room, he quietly slid the door closed behind him and crossed to the trunk on the opposite end of the room. He knelt down and, after opening it, retrieved the book that was hidden on the bottom. Turning so he sat with his back to the wall and facing the door, he opened the book for the first time in years. Not very many people knew he had this book, and the few that did thought it to be fiction. All except for his sister, Kita. The book was of a creature that have been called many things; demons, blood-suckers, parasites. The English, however, called them something else: vampire. His book, though not very long, was a compilation of all the information his family had managed to acquire over the years. It had been changed and rewritten countless times. Though no alterations have been made since his great-grandfather rewrote it.

He closed his eyes and sighed. It's as he feared. Those blood-suckers could indeed change normal humans into what they were. But how, and was it permanent? Kojuro read on but didn't find much of use. It was a bit vague in some areas, since it said that sometimes the people bitten would change and sometimes they didn't. Though his ancestors did give some detailed reports on what happened and how long it took before the change took place. However, it also noted that that was only one incident. It was difficult to judge how the situation would go.

You must always remain on guard and, despite how you feel, never leave them alive. They are always dangerous. Decapitation is the recommended way of disposing them. The last known one had been taken care of fifty years ago. And the book ended with those lines. Kojuro closed the book and sat in contemplation. '...Never leave them alive.' If it came down to it, would he be able to commit to that? He had faithfully worked for Terumune before his death and now his son. Could he truly betray Masamune? He shook his head and put the book back. There was no guarantee that he would change. He'd probably just wake up in the morning and be his usual stubborn self. Mild amusement arose at the thought. As he prepared for bed, he decided to just check up on him in the morning.

“It's been too long.” Kita smiled as she greeted Kojuro.

“Yes, sister, it has.” They hadn't seen each other for quite some time, but even so Kita could see he was distracted. She wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he had sent for her to come see him. “We should catch up. I'll have some tea made for us.”

“No need. I'm sure everyone is awfully busy. I'll make the tea. We can catch up in the meantime. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about.”

Kojuro didn't object. And so, as Kita made their tea and the siblings walked to his room, they talked of trivial things and family. But once they settled down in his room Kojuro started to quiet down as he contemplated how to discuss what was on his mind. Kita set the tray aside and served the tea. As she handed him his cup, she said, “What has you so distracted?”

He took a sip from his cup before answering. “You remember the book our great-grandfather had rewritten?”

“Of course. I have the entirety of it memorized.”

Looking her in the eye, he told her, “I've seen one.”

At first Kita wasn't sure what to say. She knew he was serious but at the same time it all seemed a bit unbelievable. After all, as far as they knew, there hadn't been one in Japan for one-hundred years now. “...here?”

“Last night Masamune-sama was attacked by her.” He paused for a moment. “He has yet to recover.”

“Is it bad?” She asked both out of concern for their lord and for the situation in it's entirety. Kojuro shook his head. Then told her, non-verbally, by tapping his neck with his index and middle fingers. “Is... that all?”

“It is.”

Kita knew how deeply loyal her brother was. “You know what needs to be done, do you not?”

“… I do. Though there's no sign that he's changing.”

“He hasn't woken yet.” She argued. “What more is necessary?”

“He's strong, Sister.” He countered. “I'm sure he will pull through this.”

She wasn't sure if she should be asked his of him. But she needed to know. “And if he does not? If he does change, are you capable of doing what needs to be done?”

Kojuro lowered his voice. “Killing our lord is a great offensive. It would drag our name through the mud.”

“I will do it then.” She told him, though couldn't keep eye contact. Kita never imagined this to ever happen. They sat for a moment in silence before it was broken.

“No.” She looked up at him again. “It was my responsibility to make sure he was kept safe. If it's necessary I will take care of it.” He moved to get up. “Though I intend to make sure it isn't.”

Kita remained silent as she watched her brother leave the room. Looking down into her tea cup, she said quietly, “I'm afraid that isn't something either of us are able to choose.”

“Yo, Kojuro!” Masamune called out as he walked towards him.

Kojuro turned around. “Masamune-sama. How are you feeling?”

“A little hungry. So, I guess I should eat huh.” He grinned after he said this. Kojuro, startled, stepped back. “You'll let me, won't you Kojuro?” he questioned as he approached him.

Masamune jerked awake. He brushed his tongue over his teeth. None of them were any sharper or any more pointed than before. He let out a sigh as he sat up. Lifting a hand to his neck, he felt bandages. So, that part wasn't a dream. Wait. Who bandaged his wound? It had to have been Kojuro. Yeah... Masamune got up out of bed.

All he had yet to do was grab his helmet and clasp his swords to his waists. Glancing toward the door he didn't see anything unusual, though he was sure he heard something. Masamune tried to brush off the feeling of unease. It didn't work, and he got annoyed with himself. He couldn't afford to be getting paranoid. He finished clasping his swords in their place, and, just as he was about to grab his helmet, he heard someone speak behind him. “I'm not impressed.” Masamune quickly spun around and grabbed the hilt of one of the swords at his waist. It must have been him when he heard something. But how could he have missed him? And how did get inside without him noticing. Despite wearing all black, the intruder stood out with his white hair. “Really what was she thinking,” the man stated. He lowered his arms to his side and stepped away from the wall he was standing against.

Masamune's fingers twitched. He was anxious, but tried not to show it. Who was he? He was foreign, but not from Europe. The man took another step forward and Masamune quickly drew his sword. “Who are you?” he questioned but wasn't sure if the man understood him. Since he couldn't understand what he was saying, it was very likely to be true the other way around.

The man paused and reached behind him. There was a clicking sound before he brought his arm back. In his hand he held a long sword. “You won't best me,” he stated as he let the sheath fall to the floor.

Not wanting to be caught off guard, Masamune acted first. He swung his blade to the mans left, which, at that moment, wasn't being guarded. The strike was easily blocked as he moved his own sword to that side. Their swords clashed before he swung his blade in a circular motion pushing Masamune's out of the way. Masamune was momentarily thrown off balance, but recovered in time to block the other man's attack. He pulled back and swung again, which Masamune again blocked. This time as he pulled back, he also side-stepped to his left, Masamune's right, and swung again. Though as he did this he picked up his pace and moved faster that what he had just a moment ago. “Shit,” Masamune cursed under his breath as he swung his blade to the right barely blocking the attack. He stiffened his legs to stand his ground against his opponent. Their swords clashed and the two swordsmen came face to face. A wave of anger swept over Masamune when he saw an amused look on the others face. “You...”

“Interesting.” Masamune was startled by the next thing the man said. “You speak English.” English. The man knew English. Though it was heavily accented, it was easy for him to understand. The man pushed Masamune back with his blade causing him to stumble a step back. “Focus.”

He was mocking him. “Bastard.” Masamune swung at him and they clashed again. This time the other man jumped back. Gripping the hilt tightly before he pulled it back. Masamune saw a slight shimmer from the blade before it was quickly swung out. Masamune was thrown back through the door and tumbled off the deck to the ground below.

“Masamune-sama!”

“Don't interfere,” Masamune stated as he moved to get up. Kojuro, in response, stopped a distance away. Tiny shards of ice clung to his clothes and the cold irritated the cut that was now on his stomach. Masamune shifted back into his fighting stance as the man stepped outside the room.

The man glanced at Kojuro, who, despite being told to stay out of it, had a hand on one of his swords. Turning his attention back to Masamune he questioned, “Where did she go?”

“Like hell I know!” Masamune exclaimed as he jumped up. As he unsheathed the other five swords, the man reached to his side and unsheathed the other sword he had. Masamune swung his blades down at him, but the other man blocked them with his own blades. Though due to both the force Masamune used and his own weight, his swords were pushed back and came a couple inches from his face. Masamune was pushed back. The two of them went back and forth, Masamune attacking and the other man blocked his strikes. This went on for a minute before the defender swung his blades up after the two had clashed their weapons together pushing Masamune's weapons aside leaving him wide open. He slammed the hilt of his sword into Masamune's stomach. A pained look appeared as Masamune staggered back.

“I know she was here,” the man continued. He stabbed his sword into the wooden deck. “Because you are now infected,” he stated pointing at Masamune. Both Kojuro and Masamune were startled. So he also knew how to speak Japanese.

The words echoed in Masamune's head as he remembered the dream that woke him. And what happened with that woman. That's who he was looking for. “She went west.” Masamune glanced over at Kojuro. The man turned around sheathing his shorter sword. “Is there a cure?”

“No.” He grabbed his sword, the one stuck in the deck, and stepped back into the room to retrieve its sheath. “Zhen, stop running from me,” he muttered as he picked up his sheath.

Kojuro looked over at his lord. “Masamune-sama, you're injured.” Masamune put his swords back in their sheaths. What was he going to do if it was true? If he was 'infected'; if he really was one of them, than that would mean... “Masamune-sama.”

“Huh?”

“You're injured.” Kojuro was worried, even though, at this point, there was no concrete prove that his lord had changed. He glanced back towards the man who was just now stepping out of the room. It's possible that he was toying with their fears just to get information. It could be possible that he was hunting the woman. And even if that were true, Kojuro wasn't about to trust him given the current circumstance. The man ignored them as he started to walk away.

There was a deep rooted fear that what he said was true. And Masamune refused to live his life hunting innocent people. That man... he was the only one who had the answer he needed. “Hey.”

“I will not help you.”

So, it was true then. Frustrated, Masamune demanded, “Then what am I supposed to do?”

The man stopped. “Learn to live with it.” He turned slightly to look at Masamune. “Or I could kill you so you don't have to,” he added as he grabbed the hilt of the sword at his side. Kojuro stepped forward and defensively gripped the hilt of his own sword.

“Stand down, Kojuro.”

“My lord, tell me you are not considering that option,” Kojuro questioned him hoping for a positive response. Except there wasn't one. No response at all.

The intruder gave a snort as he straightened up and turned away from them. “Killing you would be a waste of my time,” as he said this he walked away.

Kojuro, surprised by the lack of response from Masamune, turned to face him only to find him walking away. “Masamune-sama.”

“I want to be left alone.”

“I think it would be unwise for you to...”

Masamune interrupted him. “I'll be fine, Kojuro.”

Before he had the option to suggest otherwise, Masamune turned the corner at the end of the walkway. Against his better judgment, Kojuro did not follow him. Instead he walked off to gather the supplies needed to fix the broken door.

He avoided villages as he continued heading west. Time was of an essence so stopping to rest was out of the question. He had to find her. She was his only lead to finding his father.

[jouissezduprintemps]

Uninvited

Rating: T Word Count: 1,861 Summary: Ed can’t find Roy, and the colonel doesn’t make his life any easier when he finally does.

Ed crumpled the piece of paper in his pocket, fuming. Of course, that bastard was never where he was supposed to be. All he needed was a signature, one scribble on a dotted line. He had already gone through the trouble of actually writing the letter for him. Dammit, this was supposed to be a quick trip!

The military had placed a hold on his discretionary fund, citing his frequent, large payments to a certain “Rockbell Automail.” The teller at the bank had the audacity to suggest that he was committing fraud. Ed grit his teeth, stopping only because the noise made his skin crawl. All of his funds were frozen; he had twenty cens in his pocket, a stick of gum, and nowhere to stay.

Al was still being repaired back in Risembool; Winry had insisted that Al’s armor needed a thorough cleaning and oiling. Ed hadn’t seen any signs of rust on his brother, but he knew better than to argue. So he’d made the trip back to central all on his own, wishing for company. As soon as he hopped off the train, he ran to Central Command, but the doors to the colonel’s office were locked.

“Sorry, Ed. Not even Lieutenant Hawkeye works late on Fridays.” Maes Hughes had given him a remorseful smile after finding him tugging at the doors. “They’d all had a pretty rough week. Should I give the colonel a call?”

Ed huffed. “No, he probably wouldn’t answer, the lazy son of a bitch.”

Maes chuckled, unable to argue. Calls from work never got answered. “What do you need him for?”

“I need a CO to sign this stupid piece of paper so they’ll give me my money.”

“You know, you could always just leave it with Hawkeye. I’m sure she’d be happy to make sure it’s seen to.”

Ed arched his eyebrows. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Of course, the lieutenant was more reliable than her commanding officer. Even if he had given the paper to the colonel, he wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up lost. “Thanks, Hughes!” He had already started running off down the hallway.

“Do you need a place to stay tonight?” Maes called after him, hoping he was still in earshot.

Ed lifted his arm above his head and gave a thumbs-up. Not entirely sure what that meant, Maes set off to find a phone to tell his wife that they would – maybe? – have a guest.

As he walked, Ed attempted to smooth out the creases in his letter, regretting that he had balled it up earlier. He had plans on throwing it at the idiot colonel’s head, but the lieutenant didn’t deserve that. Had he thought about bringing it to her earlier, he probably would have sat down and rewrote the letter in the first place. Well, what was done was done. He paused and held the letter against the wall of the apartment building as he ran his automail forearm over the paper. Satisfied that the paper would at least stay straight, he shuffled down the hallway, reading the numbers on the wall as he went.

He'd never admit it, but he relied heavily on pneumonic devices to remember essential information. Riza Hawkeye. RH. Rhodium, number 45. Weight 102.91. Round it up. Ed stopped in front of apartment 103, mentally double-checking himself. This was it, right? The building only had three floors, so it couldn’t be 450, and 045 didn’t exist. Was it 291? Was he supposed to round that up to 300? Damn it, he knew the connection was weak.

Worst case scenario, he’d be knocking on plenty of doors. He might as well get started. He raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against door 103. Excited barking came from the other side, and Ed breathed a sigh of relief. While he didn’t know if the dog was Black Hayate, its presence increased the odds that he was at the right apartment.

The instant the door opened, Ed fell back against the floor. His arms flew up instinctively to cover his face. “Hayate!” Ed exclaimed, trying to fight off the dog’s loving attack.

A sharp whistle caught the puppy’s attention, and it obediently jumped back off the alchemist. Ed sat up and narrowed his eyes, but the dog just grinned and wagged his tail as he sat in the doorway. He used his hands to push himself back onto his feet before indignantly brushing himself off. “Thanks.”

“Never thought I’d hear that from you, Fullmetal.”

Ed’s head snapped up so quickly that he strained a muscle in his neck. There he was, that smug jackass. Colonel Roy Mustang stood in the doorway, barefoot and clad only in a pair of loosely-tied, grey sweatpants. He was too focused on pulling a dog treat from the jar beside the door to notice the death-stare Ed had pinned him with. Hayate jumped up and put his paws against the colonel’s thigh, barking excitedly. Roy handed the puppy his biscuit and scratched his head; Ed knew that the lieutenant would never reward that type of behavior. The lieutenant…

Before he could stop himself, Ed blurted “What the fuck are you doing?”

Roy couldn’t hide his surprise at the outburst. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. Damn, all he did was give the dog a bone. Riza would be pissed that he rewarded him for jumping on Ed, but, come on, it was the runt.

Ed stammered, not sure what to say. It wasn’t one of his finer moments when he extended his arm and pointed at his commanding officer. “You don’t live here!”

Roy blinked, arching his eyebrows. No shit, he didn’t live here. His townhouse was on the other side of the city, much closer to Central Command. Ed knew that. “No, I don’t…” Roy stated the obvious, trying to figure out why the kid looked so damned angry.

“Where’s the lieutenant?!”

Oh, so that was it. The colonel bit back a snicker and fought to keep his amusement hidden. Of course. Ed was attached to Riza since they’d met. It made sense that the boys would look to her as a maternal figure. But Roy Mustang wasn’t too big a person not to screw around because of that. He made a show of looking over his shoulder and into the apartment before declaring “She’s busy.”

Ed bristled. The lieutenant was too smart to let herself get mixed up with the colonel. Wasn’t she? She was smart, caring, beautiful, straightforward, and gentle. The colonel was just… the colonel. As he thought, Ed glared at Roy, the gears clearly turning in his head.

Roy let him stew for a minute before asking “Did you need something, Fullmetal?”

Ed sapped back to reality. “I want to see her.”

After glancing at the clock on the wall, Roy shook his head. “It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night, Elric. Not exactly the time for a social call.”

“You’re right.” Ed’s admission took Roy aback. Without skipping a beat, the kid continued, “I’ll leave when you do. We don’t want to be rude.”

“Just go home, Fullmetal.”

“No.”

Roy couldn’t believe the balls on this runt! If anyone else had said that, he would have assumed they were joking. “What the hell do you mean ‘no?’”

“I mean what I said, jackass. And would you put on a damned shirt?!”

Astounded at the insubordination, Roy grabbed the doorknob and quickly shut the front door. His progress was impeded when Ed stuck his automail foot in the way. “Oh, for the love of…” He opened the door again. “What do you want?”

Ed had had enough. He forced himself through the doorway, past Roy and into the small living room. Discarded boxes of Xingese food sat on the coffee table.

Roy gaped at the pipsqueak. “You can’t just-”

“Hey, Lieutenant Hawkeye!” Ed called into the apartment, ignoring Roy completely. “Some asshole broke into your apartment!”

“You realize… you just…” Roy spoke to himself, astounded at Ed’s complete lack of situational awareness. It was a miracle that someone hadn’t killed him yet.

Riza quickly appeared in the doorway to her bedroom. She had wrapped herself tightly in a bathrobe, her hair dripping onto the absorbent material. In her right hand, she held a pistol. She faltered when she made eye-contact with a very surprised Edward Elric. “Ed?” She turned the safety back on and put her pistol on top of her dresser. She pulled the collar of her robe closer together as she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I… uh?”

“Is everything alright?” Riza asked, genuinely concerned. When he didn’t respond, she looked over his shoulder at Roy, who had turned his back on them, his shoulders shaking as he laughed silently into his hand.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Ed looked down and away, suddenly fascinated by the pattern on her decorative rug. “Are you?”

“Am I…?” Riza repeated, quickly understanding the situation. “Colonel,” she snapped, earning his immediate attention. “I think your shirt’s probably dry by now, don’t you? Why don’t you go get it?”

Roy knew better than to argue. “Right, okay.” He coughed nervously before walking out into the hall, completely forgetting to put on shoes before heading to the laundry room.

Riza sat down on her couch and motioned for Ed to do the same. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone far less accusatory than Roy’s had been.

“I need the colonel to sign this,” Ed admitted, handing her the letter. Riza scanned it, getting the gist of his situation. “Lieutenant?” he asked hesitantly. “You… the colonel…?” He didn’t know how to word what he wanted to know.

“He came over for dinner and spilled his takeout down the front of his shirt,” Riza explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “What did he tell you?”

“Well, nothing, really. I just…”

“Listen, Edward. It’s very sweet that you’re so protective of me, but sometimes you have to trust that I can handle myself.” Riza reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “There’s nothing wrong with the colonel having dinner and watching a movie here, just like there’s nothing wrong with me inviting Lieutenant Havoc over.”

“So… you’re not…”

“There’s nothing at all for you to worry about,” she reassured him. “I trust my comrades. At the end of the day, they’re your comrades, too.”

Ed made a face but didn’t protest.

“And, besides, you know I’d shoot any of them if I thought I was in danger.”

At that, Ed cracked a smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Riza patted his hand affectionately. “Sweet boy.” She stood up and walked back into her bedroom, turning back once she thought of something. “Edward?”

“Yes?”

“Let the colonel back in before you go. He left his wallet and shoes.”

Ed grinned deviously. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring them to him.”

“Edward-”

“No trouble at all, lieutenant! I’ll see you on Monday!” Ed called behind him as he snatched Roy’s things, running out the door. When the door clicked shut, Riza sighed. So much for finishing her shower…

[thehalfworld]

Fanfic MST: Forbiden Fruit: The Tempation of Edward Cullen, a Twilight fanfic

I was talking to an online friend on Twitter not too long ago, and the subject of bad fanfiction came up. My friend had been reading “My Immortal” and losing his shit over it. I asked if he’d read “Forbiden Fruit: The Tempation of Edward Cullen” and it turned out he had not. He’d never even heard of it.

Indeed, while this story is one of the best-known badfics out there, it’s still considerably less popular than “My Immortal” is, and I think that’s a damn shame. This may be my personal favorite work of bad fanfiction; it’s a fantastic example of the “so bad it’s good” genre. Author BeckyMac666 writes like no other English-language writer has ever written, and this is both a good and a bad thing. She’s almost certainly a troll, given the blatant use of established badfic tropes and several parallels with “My Immortal,” but when you’re this good at being terrible it really doesn’t matter how serious you are about it.

For the record, there are folks who believe that this fic and “My Immortal” share an author, due to the aforementioned parallels. I personally don’t think that’s true, since the prose is very different, but if it amuses you to imagine that they’re written by the same person, be my guest.

Like virtually all Twilight badfic, this story is about a mysterious new girl arriving in Forks and shaking up Bella and Edward’s relationship by creating a love triangle. As usual, Bella is made out to be completely awful in the process, Jacob is largely forgotten about, and the protagonist may not be entirely human herself. This is far weirder, and more entertaining, than your average shitty Twilight fanfiction, though. Mark my words.

I first MSTed this fanfiction back on the old WordPress version of this blog, but, as that was a long time ago and I like to think I’m funnier nowadays, I rewrote most of my comments. It’s not wildly different, but hopefully it is an improvement over the old version.

AN hey guys this is the new improved verson of my story, hope its better this time!

I have no idea what the unedited version of this thing looked like, but I honestly can’t imagine it being any more ridiculous than the final story.

btw i am young and have dyslexia i find spellin hard but its meant2 be unformal ok !

Use spellcheck, you fool! Or get a proofreader!

no critisism pls!

Oops.

tis story goes out 2 my bf zac(kisses!) amd my besfreind Tiffi LOVE YA GRRRL!

The Tara parallel here is probably intentional. Zac never gets mentioned again, much like Tara’s boyfriend, but Tiffi isn’t Becky’s beta reader and they don’t have a spat partway through or anything of that sort.

EDWARD IS OUR GODD!(we wanna SEX him gud!)

Honestly, I think this is how all fanfiction should open. Just tell me straight-up what character you wanna bang before the story’s even started. Save us all some time.

love &blood becky mac! xxx x x xx

Aww. That’s kinda cute.

UPDATE: I have a proofreader and I have cleaned up the spelling and grammer on this chaptor a hell of a lot as you will see (thank u vickie!)

Yeah, Vickie, thank you. Looks like you’re doing a great job and you’ve got everything under control here.

i will be imrpoving the next chaptors soon.

Since this fic got “abandoned,” subsequent chapters have not actually been improved. Not that one can tell, anyway.

Altantiana

Yes, that is a typo of her OC’s name. Off to a great start.

Hey, my names Atlantiana Rebekah Loren (but everyone calls me Tiana or just plain Tiaa).

Virtually no one calls her Tiana during the course of the story. Just so you know. “Tiaa” isn��t a typo, either, though I have no idea why the author felt the need to add an extra A.

Notice the middle name? Subtle.

I am a 16 year old girl and I live in Forks, Washington!

This actually makes her a year younger than Bella, for the record.

My hair is long and pale like spun gold and skims to my waist like a pale shimmering amber mist.

It’s pale and it’s pale? Also, gold and amber are not the same color.

My eyes are deep forgetminot blue and my delicate fentures are lilly white and pure as the winter snow in moonlight.

I’ve been complimented on my fentures before too, but it’s nothing worth bragging about.

I've been told by loads of sleazy, ugly, HORNY guys that I'm real pretty and look like a model or a bunny girl (some of the guys who like me are really old and try to make opt with me its disgusting and weird!) but basically a lot of the girls I meet tell a different story.

Well, gee, after that modest description of yourself I’m shocked that boys think you’re attractive, Tiaa. You sounded so plain and ordinary.

Am guessing that the girls who don’t tell a different story are gay.

They say I'm too ivory white and ethereal and too skinny and that I look anorexic which i don't care about, but I think its seriously disrespectful to people with REAL eating disorders (btw i'm so totally not anorexic! I eat loads I just never gain weight and I'm not thin enough to be anorexic anyways, I think they were just being BIATCHES especially this one ratty brain called Ellie Mayfair who I hope freaking DIES in PAIN with SHIT ON HER FACE! Sorry, I'm not really such a batch but she is SO horrible if you met her you'd think the same!)

I hate when girls pick on me for being too ethereal.

Even though we’re using the “attractive character looks anorexic but isn’t” trope, and that’s obviously not so great, I guess it’s nice that Tiaa/Becky took the time to point out that the comparison is disrespectful to people who actually have anorexia or another eating disorder.

The bit about Ellie Mayfair is one of the best things I’ve ever read. I hope you guys all understand why I had to run this fic now.

Anyways I am quite tall and slim and but with really big boobs that I used to HATE because they look noticeable on my slender body and draw to much attention but now i like them and don't care who stares at me!

Ah, the “skinny yet improbably busty” body type. Strangely more common in fiction than in real life.

Tiaa totally does care who stares at her, by the way. As we’ll see shortly.

I have a lip ring and recently put black and indigo and magenta streaks in my long pale blond hair. I smell like mint and cinnamon.

I have no idea why we’re supposed to care about any of this, but I’m particularly unclear about why we should care what she smells like.

I wear mostly black and hot pink, deep purple and neon blue and listen to COOL music!

Tiaa’s specific music taste never comes up, to my recollection, but I’m betting My Chemical Romance is involved.

It is my first day at school in forks as I just moved here to live with new foster parents Dave and Marie. They are nice and all very hole some sweet people but it is not like having a real family.

Yeah, Tiaa is adopted. This is sort of plot-important later on, but we never get to learn much about her life prior to Dave and Marie.

I've been hurt to many times to let people close to me and I don't talk to them very much.

I mean… you just moved in with them.

My real mom died when I was born and I never knew my real dad. I sometimes wonder what he is like and if I will ever get to met him.

Foreshadowing!

Dave gave me a ride to school and I smiled faintly as he wished me good luck and I got out of the car and went into the school. Loads of people freaking stared at me as I walked down the hall.

Presumably because she’s too ethereal.

I was wearing tight black leather pants with silver chains at the waste and a red fishnet-like top and you could see my black lacy bra through it.

That could have something to do with why they’re staring.

I ignored whispers and the big pink cheerleader imbosils pointing at me. I was used to it and I paid no at-tension to the guys asking desperately for my number(like hell I'd even LOOK at the horny little donkeys!) and told a ditsy blond cheerleader called Jessica to STFU(!) when she called me a freak!

God I love this author’s writing style. Truly, no one has ever written like this, before or since. BeckyMac666 is one of the unsung geniuses of our time.

Next time she tries anything I'll hit her in the eye cause NO ONE messes with me nemore!

Most of the rest of the story is about various people messing with Tiaa. For the record.

My first day I was relay board, I sat gazing out of the window into the gray cloud-embittered sky for most of the morning, My teachers all looked at me disprovable but said nothing cause they probably new I was a foster kid and a Gothic and didn't want to upset me in case I cut them up as they slept,.

I’m a pretty big fan of the phrase “cloud-embittered,” although it is of course completely meaningless.

Hey, uh… why the hell hasn’t she gotten dress coded? I went to a private school and I guess our dress code was a bit stricter than most, but most high schools will get upset at teenage girls for not covering their knees and shoulders, let alone having any undergarments visible. Tiaa’s entire bra is showing through her fishnet top. This is a situation in which I think it’d be reasonable to ask her to change.

My ears are pierced four times, I have a tattoo of a scorpion(like S my birth-sign!) on my ankle and a Gothic cross on my shoulder, and on my hand i have a weird birthmark in the shape of a seven-pointed star that I've had all my life.

I don’t know why we’ve gone right back to (over)describing Tiaa, but I do think I should delete my entire OkCupid bio and replace it with this opening chapter.

Your probably wandering why I'm bothering to tell you this, well I tell you now I am no ordinary sixteen year old girl.

Could’ve fooled me!

I have a secret, a dark and forbidden secret witch I am only just beginning to understand. When I sleep I hear whispers in another language and even though I understand them at the time, when I wake up i can't remember it!

That’s nothing. I had a dream once where I explained the meaning of Nirvana lyrics to somebody (obviously not possible in real life), and I couldn’t remember my explanation when I woke up either.

I also see weird faces in my dreams that fade to nothingness when I open my eyes and I swear out the corner of my eye my birthmark glows shocking bright gold and gets relay hot sometimes but when I look properly it is back to normal boarding scar-color!

I’d like to remind you that this is set in the Twilight universe. It’s already got magical creatures, and there are rules established about their abilities, appearances, and behavior. Tiaa is clearly not quite human, but she doesn’t seem to be a vampire, a half-vampire, or a werewolf. She’s completely unique within her universe, for no defined reason, and the rules governing other nonhumans don’t apply to her.

Like, the physical description and the obvious homage to “My Immortal” already made it clear that this girl is a Mary Sue, but this author clearly gets that Sue status isn’t just about looking unreasonably pretty. It’s about defying the rules of canon. Tiaa’s outstanding at that, as you’ll see later on.

I am really gracefull like the running anti-lopes when I run very fast and am stronger and faster than most people.

God, what a sentence.

I used to just think i was relay athletic but now I'm not so sure, I think there might be something else at work, something so much more mysterious and eeire.

Something like… bad writing?

The truth hovers so softly on the brink of my memory sometimes but if only i could remember the weird things that clung to the edge of my mind as I slept!

There are so many bad fanfics where the prose is bare-bones, with few or no adjectives/adverbs and simple sentence structure. BeckyMac666 tends in the opposite direction, and it’s awesome. Everything is phrased as though it’s super dramatic, nonsense metaphors abound, and our author has clearly never met an adjective she didn’t like. Hey @ aspiring trollfic authors: take note. This is how you write an entertaining badfic.

At lunch I sat alone in the corner and scanned the cafeteria quietly with my eyes smoldering dark blue beheath my long black lashes and my slim thighs curled under me.

Also a big fan of how Tiaa always talks about herself as though she’s checking herself out.

It was the n I noticed an unbelievably jaw-droopingly hawt HAWT HAAAAAAAAWT dude with tusseted blondey-brown hair, golden yellow eyes like wells of hot caramel and pale sexy features. He was tall and mussel and looked like he was wearing eyeliner and my body got hot and cold all at once as I looked at him.

Kind of like an erection only she’s a girl so she didn’t get one you sicko.

I'd never felt this way about anyone before and I'd totally never felt this weird feeling that I'd met someone before but I had no idea where and i knew it was impassible because I'd freaking remember someone THAT hawt!

Foreshadowing! Again!

A girl sat next to him with long brown hair with her arms dripped over him like a freaking flesh-eating plant so i thought well whatevah, hes taken.

Straight-up one of the greatest similes I’ve ever seen. Like, I study English literature and I don’t think I’ve ever read a metaphor better than that one. I’m not joking, it’s brilliant.

She wasn't nearly as hawt as he was, she wasn't ugly though. I figured I was maybe prettier then her. I never really saw myself as beautiful but i'd guessed from thinks others had said, plus this girl wasn't great looking but anyways I'd never try to pilch with another girls' BF cause thats just low.

The modesty act might be a little more convincing if we hadn’t just read several paragraphs of Tiaa talking about how hot she is.

So I got up to leave the hall thinking I'd go and smoke some bald drugs in the locker room while no one was there.

Hey, what’s a “bald drug”? I go to a liberal arts college and I’ve watched the entirety of Breaking Bad multiple times, so you think I’d have heard of it.

As I waked over to he exit I couldn't help but notice the hawt pale guys musky eyes as they met mine.

Musk is a substance some male animals secrete for scent-marking purposes. The word comes from the Sanskrit for “scrotum.” Thought you all should know.

I locked away hurriedly. I smocked dope in the locker room for a bit then I wondered to my next class.

This bitch just hotboxed a locker room on her first day of school. 

I bumped into someone in the corridor and my bocks fell everywhere! FRICK! FRICK! FRIIIICKK!

Remember that this is the beta-read version of the chapter.

"WTF!" I screamed loudly, "watch where your FREAKING going you asshole!" (i have anger problems)

So you know how self-insert characters, particularly Sues, often have self-proclaimed “anger issues”? I wanna talk about that, actually, because it’s a trope I see not only in fanfiction but in published fiction, and it honestly bugs me.

In real life, anger issues are a totally legitimate character flaw, and one that can have serious negative consequences in-universe. A character with a bad temper may make rash decisions, screw up their relationships with others, have trouble holding down a job, get in trouble with the law, and so on; people who have anger problems are often mentally ill and/or traumatized, too, and the anger may be just the tip of the iceberg. Many morally ambiguous characters, well-written ones, have trouble with anger. There’s nothing wrong with this trope when it’s executed correctly.

In the hands of a less-than-competent writer, however, anger issues are the opposite of a problem, because the character’s show of anger will invariably cause others to back down or apologize and there will be no negative consequences. Writing a character who’s so sweet and charming that they always get their way has exactly the same effect, but as that trope falls out of style “anger issues” has taken its place and the authors who write these characters have no idea that they’re doing the same thing as the trope they thought they were avoiding.

Of course, this is the work of a troll, and the use of this trope is almost certainly intentional, but there are way too many authors who employ it unironically as a way to give a “flaw” to a character that even they realize is bordering on unrealistic.

"I'm so so sorry" he said in a voice like wet heaven "please forgive me my lady”

Author’s so fond of weird phrases that I have no idea whether or not “wet heaven” is intended as innuendo.

It was the hawt pale guy!

Dun dun dunnnn!

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