#im so annoying about this fic but its my god-given right

[omegawolverine]

Braid Me a Home

summary:

"Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.” 

or

A story about the Sleepy Bois being family, told through braids.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: child neglect, hurt/no comfort, canonical character death, implied/referenced mental health issues (like it’s obvious but there isn’t much detail to it), brief blood mentions (ik this fic sounds kinda angsty as hell but its not? imo its light angst)

a/n: first dream smp fic and im ALREADY projecting? christ. anyways. go easy on me pls this is far from my best work i just havent written a fic in like 5 months (more if you dont count the fucking chat fics) mm also i may have posted this like a week ago on ao3 just to test the waters and its already gotten way more comments and kudos than any fic of mine usually gets this early on so hopefully tumblr enjoys it too :]

—

When Wilbur Soot was born, he came out crying, as most babies do. Covered in vernix and blood, he weighed just barely above the seven-pound mark, gasping out sharp cries that only a parent could truly stand, or worse—love. Though he was the second baby born into the family that day, he was fussed over far more than he would ever be again.

Technoblade, on the other hand, had barely made a sound when he came out, a trail of blood smeared across his forehead, almost as if it was meant to be there. He made small noises that were more akin to confused mumbles, weakly grasping at his father’s hair when he was eventually passed on for the second child to be welcomed into the world.

Only when both boys were held in their father’s grasp did Wilbur quiet down, his soft head leaning into his father’s beard as he stared wide eyed at the boy across from him. Though they looked similar enough, Technoblade’s nose was squished further back into his face, appearing almost snout-like to Philza. Of course Wilbur noted this, wiggling until their father somehow managed to get them pressed right up against each other with minimal damage done. Though Techno never stopped squinting like an annoyed old man at Wilbur, he allowed the other to press a fist against his nose, his eyebrows unfurrowing just the slightest bit at the touch.

From that day on, Philza was the father of two twin boys—a loud boy who cried easily, but always calmed down for his older brother, and a rather monotone one, who’s face seemed to be permanently stuck in a scowl, unless said face was being smushed around by the younger. And things worked like that for a while. Not forever, but...a while.

—

Philza taught Wilbur to braid on a hot Monday afternoon.

It had been a rough day for the boy, though Phil hadn’t a clue why. Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or maybe he hadn’t slept enough between bedtime and the time Tommy had started crying again, the youngest boy’s crib being right beside his head and all. Though it might’ve seemed cruel from an outsider’s perspective, Wilbur had been the one to ask for it. Something about Tommy being his little brother and how he needed to teach the boy the ways of the world in the same way Techno had taught him—because apparently that was all Techno’s doing now, not Phil’s.

Regardless, Wilbur had been a bit too snippy for Phil’s liking that day, complaining about every little thing they did until finally, the day was over.

Well, as over as it could be with Techno leaving mid foam sword fight, an annoyed shout of ‘I quit!’ leaving his mouth before he snatched up Tommy’s carrier and brought him inside for god knows what reason.

It had only been around four P.M. by that time—too early for dinner, yet too late for Phil to really demand the boy stay outside and continue to entertain himself with a brother who was clearly not entertained himself.

Details aside, Phil isn’t really sure how they got to braiding. He just knows at some point they did and by the end of their outside time, just before the clock struck six, Wilbur had made two thick, messy braids in his hair. They stuck out awkwardly, looking all too similar to Pippi Longstocking’s iconic hairdo for his comfort, but he’d be damned if he took out the braids his son had so happily rushed inside to show his older brother before demanding to do his hair as well. After all, Wilbur didn’t have long enough hair for braids, but Technoblade sure as hell did. It was only at his shoulder blades back then, brunette curls wrapping around his narrow shoulders and thin arms like thick vines.

Wilbur had always enjoyed brushing it out with his fingers and putting cute, handmade clips or flowers in it at random, decorating the waves for his brother who was more than happy to let the boy do as he pleased. Though he would never admit it, Technoblade liked how it felt when Will played with his hair. He was always careful not to tug too hard, prioritizing the comfort of his other half more than the beauty of his work, as he so often referred to it.

So when Will had presented him with the mess that was his first two braids, he wasn’t hesitant at all to let the boy practice on him. Instead, he walked to the couch with a small smile, removing his glasses gently and getting comfortable before his brother plopped down into the space behind him. Long legs draped over long legs with no warning, thighs pressed together as if they were meant to be like that all along—and they might as well have been, for how often they did this.

Phil had watched them from the doorway in content silence, Tommy sitting behind him in a wooden high chair looking bored, but not making a fuss for once. And as he left that doorway to begin dinner, he listened to their muffled conversation and soft bursts of laughter with a small smile on his lips, for he knew things wouldn’t always be this way. They would have to grow up eventually, and when they did, things would change. Phil could only hope it was for the better.

—

When Tommy turns nine, Wilbur teaches him to braid under circumstances not too different from the ones he had learned under himself.

Well. Not too too different.

Philza and Technoblade had been...busy as of late. In the house for three days, out for a week, in for a week, out for three more, over and over and over again. Wilbur had become more like a father to Tommy in recent months than he should’ve been, his fourteenth birthday fast approaching as their father took Techno out for yet another job, one that Wilbur couldn’t come on because he was too fucking weak to do anything Techno could do, too fucking stupid to learn all the techniques Techno did, lacking all the strength and agility his older sibling possessed, like the useless prick he was-

Right. This is about Tommy.

When Tommy was nine, his hair rested gently against his collarbones in the exact same cut and color as their father wore. If Wilbur was a lesser man, he would’ve hated the kid for it, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see what a selfish git their father truly was yet. All he knew was that their dad was busy a lot and that, for some reason, Techno needed to go with him. Apparently, that was enough for him to keep holding onto the idea that one day, the man would stay longer and maybe, just maybe, show him some of the same care that his older brother did.

If Wilbur was a better man, he would tell Tommy the truth. He would tell him all about the way Philza had called him useless in a fight, forcing him to instead stay home and care for a child while still being one himself. He would mention how Philza had given him no instructions on how to care for a developing child, how he left out key details to parenting on his own as a goddamn thirteen-year-old, yet remembered to tell him things would be better this way because god forbid he does his fucking job as a father for anyone but Technoblade—

Who he missed. He missed Technoblade, his other half, so fucking bad it hurt sometimes—so bad it left him gasping for breath at two A.M., his head pounding in tandem with his uneven heartbeat, lungs burning as his snot and tears soaked into his brother’s cold, cold sheets. And it made him feel fucking pathetic because the truth of the matter was that...Techno had left him behind too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the older boy, no matter how hard he tried. Couldn’t hate Philza either, if he were to be honest with himself, but it was a lot easier to pretend he did when his father was the one putting them all in this position to begin with.

So, Tommy was nine when he learned how to braid.

Phil had promised him and Techno would be back Tuesday morning.

It was Wednesday afternoon.

Tommy didn’t fucking understand, and as frustrating as it was that the prick decided to take it out on Wilbur, he couldn’t blame him. Who else was he supposed to take this shit out on? Certainly not the man who had yet to return.

Wilbur had started the braid as a way to distract him. It was simple, really—tell him you know something he doesn’t and that he won’t get to know if he doesn’t sit the fuck down and listen.

When he had started tugging the boy’s hair back from his face, his immediate reaction was to jerk away, swatting at the hands that hovered over his shoulders. This only happened once or twice more before he let it happen naturally, his posture stiff as Wilbur ran his fingers through the boy’s hair with practiced ease.

Though it may not have seemed like it, Tommy was significantly more averse to touch than Techno had ever been. The only reason Techno even seemed averse to it was because of his hesitance to initiate, something he and Wilbur had discussed in depth. Rejection was one of the few fears Technoblade truly had and Wilbur held that fact close to his heart, ready to die with it if need be. Tommy, on the other hand? He was very particular about where and when and why someone was touching him, and it had taken Wilbur a long time to get used to that fact. But, he wasn’t about to make his little brother uncomfortable just so he could be happy and, eventually, he learned the ins and outs of how to touch TommyInnit without causing issue.

Pulling a few of the shorter strands towards the front of Tommy’s face loose, Will separated the blonde’s hair into three sections. They were rather small, what with how thin and short his hair was, it just barely being long enough to even have a proper braid in it, but Wilbur knew he could make it work.

“Now, Toms, you gotta listen to me here, because I can’t show you this bit, yeah? Phil and Tech aren’t here, and my hair is too short, so you’ll just have to feel it out for now, but...this is how you braid hair-” Wilbur had said in a soft voice, brushing the pad of his thumb over the boys neck slowly to ease the tension out of his shoulders. The effect was immediate, the boy slouching forward as if he had just noticed he was holding himself so sternly. Smiling softly, Wilbur instructed him on how to weave the strands together, answering questions and pulling lightly at Tommy’s hair so he could feel exactly where everything went. After he was done, Tommy had reached back to feel the bumps in his hair, all his earlier anger seemingly gone as he gave a small smile. And then he tried it himself.

Of course he got a bit of help at first, Wilbur’s larger hands guiding his own with gentle corrections, but after that Tommy worked on it alone, his older brother watching in silence from a patch of grass beside the porch step.

That night, Tommy and Wilbur slept in Techno’s bed, a soft, blue blanket wrapped tightly around them. And if another body woke them up at some point that night, shoving its way into the mess of limbs, their chest pressed right up against the youngest boy’s back, then that was only for them to know.

—

At eleven years old, Tommy takes a pair of scissors to his hair. With flushed cheeks and salty lips, his hands shaking and his eyes foggy, he cuts, cuts, cuts, until he can no longer braid his hair—until he can no longer look like fucking Phil.

Even though Wilbur had once said he hated Tommy’s long hair—hated how similar he and their dad looked—he felt like crying as he ran his fingers through the uneven strands. He didn’t tell his brother this though, instead grabbing his face and planting a wet kiss on his freckled forehead. In a fierce whisper, Wilbur had said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tommy. So fucking proud.”

Tommy never forgets the way he felt that day. He doesn’t forget Wilbur’s words either.

—

When Wilbur loses his last life, Technoblade tells Tommy to braid his hair.

It wasn’t a question either, but a demand forced out between gritted teeth, his face red, his nose stuffy and his lashes wet with unshed tears. Still, his words were clear as day.

“Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

Tommy sniffled, but did as he was told.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to argue with the only person he even had left. Maybe it was because he could tell Technoblade was mad at their father for the first time in his life, and he knew how bad his first time had felt. Or, maybe, it was just because he knew Techno fucking cared. Nobody else seemed to, but he knew Techno did and...that was enough for him.

As long as someone else cared—as long as it was fucking Technoblade—that was enough for him.

Just as Tommy had finished the braid, curling his finger around the light pink tail that tied the whole thing off, Techno yanked it forward. Before he could even register that the hair had left his hand, the older boy had taken an axe to the top of it, letting the rest of his hair fall around his face in uneven curls. Though it was a good ten minutes of work wasted, Tommy couldn’t say a damn thing as he watched Techno pocket the braid, muttering a thank you and heading in the direction of Wilbur’s unofficial grave.

In that moment, he felt relief for the first time in a long while.

—

Wilbur Soot was born covered in vernix and blood, weighing just barely above the seven-pound mark, and he came into the world much like he left it. Everyone had heard his cries—even if they weren’t there, even if they didn’t know him well—they had saw the way he spiraled, desperate and afraid and paranoid, searching for help, but never receiving enough.

And though he was the second child born, he left the world first, returning in a yellow sweater with a small braid tucked behind his ear. He didn’t really know why he had one, but he remembered braiding Techno’s hair and he remembered teaching Tommy how to do his own and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered the braids.

[i-just-want-to-destroy]

allen walker for the character ask, please. I'm very curious to hear what your thoughts are, if you don't mind

awesome!

send me a character and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them oh my god everythiiiiing hes SUCH a good character! hes my FAVORITE MC TROPE a guy who seems so sweet and so nice but is actually very fucked up inside and SURPRISINGLY manipulative like hes charming because HE WANTS TO BE??? holy shiiiiiit. the blueprint for me!!! no mc has ever done what he did ever since

least favorite thing about them nothing hes peak fiction

favorite line very early in the series where he met crowley at the first time and he was like "haha dont kill urself killing monsters can be your reason to live :)!!!!" or something like that. he said it so sincerely like as if he thinks its a fucking normal mindset to have because this is HIS own mindset because hes literally crazy

brOTP kanda and him. MY blueprint. like :) >:/ pairing. this is my favorite dynamic forever. the contrasting ideologies the fire and ice of it all literally theyre the IT duo. i also love him w the rest of the cast :)) him and lenalee omg i need to see them together again 😭😭😭 him and lavi too.. theyre the brotp4 fr. him and johnny! him and LINK! hes great with everybody.

OTP idc

nOTP idc

random headcanon very artistic :))) in another life he wouldve been an artist, a performing one. likes sentimental stories. its been established that hes good at tricks, i think hes the kind of person whos good at random shit, like a true jack of trades-- like he'd trying doing something and got it right on the first try and then he goes "im just lucky :)" because hes annoying like that. given the chance he would be able to play every musical instrument. he would've enjoyed comic books as well, i really believe that.

unpopular opinion its been such a long time since i was active in dgm fandom (if i was even active at all) and since i read dgm fics but people should really write him meaner and faker hes the #1 fake bitch who is ALSO, at the same time, a genuinely good person with a good heart. the duality. hes literally the ideal mc the layers of him omg. like depicting him as naive is not wrong per se but like understand that whenever hes naive he CHOOSES to be naive. if u get it u get it

song i associate with them im not okay (i promise), the black parade, kill all ur friends, na na na yes yes the whole mcr treatment i dont give a fuck!!!! linkin park too like in the end, LEAVE OUT ALL THE REST,,, PARAMORES BRICK BY BORING BRICK....just 2010s rock treatment do you understand the vibe???!!!!!!!!!!

favorite picture of them the chokehold this pic has on me when i was in middle school like this was THE picture i loved this picture so much its in my 14 year old mind rent free

also this is my favorite hoshino art phase :)

[fanmoose12]

I am not over it. I am SO not over IT. I read the SNK manga YEARS ago when it was only chapter 100 and one day I had the dumb idea to continue that shit. I am not PLEASED and Hanji's death UTTERLY WRECKED ME, someone who wasn't even a Hanji Stan!! reading the manga made me fall in love with her quiet determination, leadership skills, and sense of duty when before I was more of an Armin type of girl? She just. won me over. and her death was NOT OKAY. I CRIED while saying no no nO NOOO OH MY GOD -

and it TORE ME APART and she was the only person in my mind ever since and I couldn't read the manga in the same nonchalant way ever again. i'm sorry i promise im getting somewhere! it legit ruined my moods and made me so sad all the time IT WAS THAT BAD and i started hating eren with absolute passion. Idek where to start? How her death was pointless & nobody gave a fuck?? and Levi thought of FRICKING ERWIN instead of Hans & I wasnt even a Levihan shipper it doesnt make SENSE! He just LOST HANS

-- and all he can think about is FUCKING ERWIN. come on MAN, and she parented the 104th even REINER had more emotions than these mfers. Everyone is alive EXCEPT HER, like onyakapon and even yelena, minor characters, it just feels so UNFAIR, i'm not mad abt death, i breathe angst like it was chocolate it was just so pointless and meaningless and no one even grieves, especially Levi who was closest to her. there was just no room for her in the plot anymore and thats what makes me pissed -

- not bc it was her time, but bc she ran out of uses to the plot and like in GOT where the character is smarter than the author. not only that, she was made so powerless and pathetic and she felt so useless and she died like that. where's the justice? the character arc? right she was there Just to Save Levi :// it's like that quote from gone girl - "the world will know that [man] threw his beloved wife like garbage, and she floated past down all the other abused, unwanted, INCONVENIENT, women"

(sorry for the fem pronouns, i'm all abt anime hange here). and its not like she wasnt a fan favorite, she's top 3 of the last character poll. just bc shes not levi and eren and armin. and cmon. yams had to nerf and minus 100 out of her iq for the INSANE plan of fucking zeke and the yeagerists, can you BELIEVE she trusted and was OUTSMARTED by ZEKE, who legit massacred the survey corps, even though SHE HAD THE SAME LEVEL OF IQ?? but noooo, plot reasons!! shes not eRwIn, what you expect 🙃

im upset, not bc my fav character died but bc it was meaningless (if falco can fly, why tf didnt he do that in the first place) and hollow in logic and in emotion. maybe snk's lesson to us is life is unfair and we should suck it up. it wasn't well earned & yams wrote hanji in a corner, like (again) in GOT where no matter what daenerys chose she was wrong. sorry i dumped all this to you!! if you're still here, thank you for listening to my month long pent up emotions, im still really sad about it

- and idk how to let go? but your writings have definitely made me feel better, it just comforts me like Levi to a bottle of bleach. thank you for still writing!!! about an anime girl in a fictional world and still delivering more emotion than the original author. my heart definitely feels better these days, though it still aches bc she deserves so much better & didnt deserve whatever the fuck she was given, thank you for championing hanji zoe rights! im 99% sure she wont be revived -

but she lives on in your writings and other fanfiction authors and artworks and i'm just so grateful we have a community like this, honestly im just glad you're here :) keep doing what you do and i hope you're safe and warm & healthy!! also to every hanji stans out there one fucking day when we love a character the author wont rip our hearts and throw it to the garbage, im so so sorry for my long long ask but if i could request maybe eren apologizing to hanji inpaths or when she got captured or

or when she died or you choose!! i saw this art by @siroyuki 2015 in twitter where he's hugging her and shit, you should check it out it gave me feels!! i just want her to be loved and appreciated :((( again thank you so much if you made it this far! im sorry if you're annoyed or smthn HHAHAHA i promise this is the last! thank you for your service to humanity we stan 💪😩👌💕💞 

ah don’t you let canon frustrate you, it doesn’t matter anyway :D like you saud, we still have fics and fanarts

however, yeah, i do kinda feel you :/ like the way yams keeps glossing over hange's death is actually a bit weird? like i know they're at war and i know that they have no time for grieving etc but the kids were literally bawling their eyes when hange died but no mention of her sacrifice at all after that? like in 136, gabi said that they should stop the rumbling to repay azumabito's kindness and that's ummmmmmm.... a little bit weird. sure, gabi is a little girl with no connection to hange but reiner, jean and connie were there, when gabi said that and they saw hange’s sacrifice, so why not say something like “yeah, we can’t let commander hange’s sacrifice go to waste?” like come on. what did azumabito do? let falco transform on the board of her ship, so now she travels on a boat? i don't think that can compare to hange's acts though. she literally brought these mfs who were ready to jump at each other's throat together and then she sacrificed her own life to give them yet another chance at success. a sacrifice that was proved to be utterly meaningless in the very next chapter? why did falco learn about his ability to fly only after hange died? why didn't he discover it upon first transformation? :/

oh, and speaking of hange's character arc? like i get it, she was depressed, she struggled with her role as a commander (even though she did everything she could and she did a damn good job at it). and i guess that this plotline was kinda resolved when she heard that erwin approved of her actions? and that's cool, if what we've seen was actually an afterlife and not hange's hallucination. because if it was indeed a product of her mind then that's, um, kinda depressing bro. hange was so desperate for someone's approval that she dreamed about it while literally dying. i just don't understand why yams didn't include a scene where kids tell her how much they respect her and what an honor it was to serve under her command or SOMETHING. but as it is, hange died, thinking she was weak and useless and, um, yeah, certainly not the end you want for your favorite character :)

so yeah, hange's death was kinda meaningless and pointless - it didn't serve the plot whatsoever + it could have been very easily avoided 

[straightouttaneptune]

Partner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: FLOOF, everyone except Tasha and Y/N is stupid, swearing, guns, fighting, that’s it bb!

Summary: Natasha is assigned a mission with an Agent she doesn’t know. So, she ends up dragging a civilian who she assumes is her partner into a highly-violent mission.

A/N: AHHHHH EVERYONE ITS MY FIRST FIC IN MONTHS IM BACK THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVE AND THE PATIENCE!!

—————————————————————

Y/N Y/L/N. You were just another citizen of the planet earth, not an inhuman, not an assassin, not a super, not a mutant and certainly not an Avenger. You grew up in an everyday household, went to school, had decent grades, led a good career, and overall life. 

So... how did you get here right now? To know this, we have to rewind time, to around a month ago.

-11:00 am, SHIELD office 09

"Agent Romanoff, sorry to do this to you." Nick Fury looked over at Natasha apologetically, while she herself remained stoic. "But you know that the rest of your teammates can be... unpredictable." To this, she let out a small chuckle.

"It's not a big deal, I know they can be dramatic." She slid the file on the table, opening it to examine the details of the mission. "Wait, this is a doubles mission?" The surprise was evident in her voice, as she assumed that this would be a one-woman job.

"She's a beginner agent. Don't worry, she's just there for support." Fury stated casually as if he didn't leave out one of the most relevant information. 

"Right, okay, can I meet her?"

"No. She's out at the moment."

"How do you expect me to work with someone I've never met?" Natasha inquired, confused beyond words.

"There's a description! And everything!" Fury defended himself, pointing at the file she held in her hands. At that moment, Natasha could see why he was the leader of the Avengers. Sighing in defeat, she retreated back to the training area.

Y/H/C hair, Y/E/C eyes, around her age, pretty, it probably wouldn't be hard to find this partner. And just like that, her mind wandered away from the mission, to her training regime for the day.

-5:00 pm, Y/N's apartment

"C'mon, Y/N! It'll be so fun, I'm telling you!" Your old uni friend pleaded over the phone, while you balanced the pros and cons of going out tonight.

"Mm, I don't know... I mean, I was going to have a Star Wars marathon." You pouted, glancing at your TV wantingly. Oh, what you'd give to cuddle up with a tub of ice cream tonight.

"Y/N, come on. You can't just couch potato every day." You ran out of excuses to give, reluctantly agreeing to her offer.

"God, I haven't been to a club in forever." You rummaged through your closet, only finding office clothes and comfy hoodies. In the very back, though, you knew that there was a little skimpy dress you used to wear back when you were in university. "... Fuck it. It's just one night."

You closed the door to your apartment with your heart hammering in your chest. You hadn't dressed like this in what felt like forever, you almost forgot how good you looked. Whatever happens, you had your trusty taser gun hidden in your thigh-high boots.

Feeling like an utter and complete boss b*tch, you entered the booming club with your friends in tow. "Y/N! I knew you still had it in ya." You rolled your eyes at one of your friends' comments, but your heart secretly swelled at her words. 

The start of the night was amusing, but as time flew by, your buddies were swooped away by unknown guys and girls, leaving you to drink all alone by the bar. Of course, it wasn't like you didn’t have dance requests and numbers asked, but none of them really interested you.

Natasha had arrived at the club a little later than you did, clad in a spy-dress and spy-shoes with various weapons hidden underneath, inside, wherever there was space. The infamous Strucker was reported to be here in this club tonight, but first, she needed to find her associate.

It wasn't hard to find you, as she assumed that an Agent would be somewhere that was easy to see, unlike the dance floor. So the bar. And luckily, by the bar, there was only one woman who fit the description given to her. You. 

To her surprise, you were way more distracting than she had expected. Your short dress hugged your curves just right, your effortless movements were eye-catching and elegant. And your smile, god. The way you smiled at the bartender made her wish she was him. 

But at that moment, she was an Agent of SHIELD, and she had a job to do.

You were just about to order another glass of your drink when a hand was laid on your shoulder. You looked back to see if it was another flirter, but was taken aback by the gorgeous woman standing there. She had her calloused hand on your shoulder, yet her eyes were not on you, scanning the crowd. 

"Uhm, can I help-" 

"How did you get here?" Natasha recited her code-word, to double-check if it really was her assigned partner.

"With my friends...?" You wondered if you were drunker than you thought, and hallucinating this beautiful woman in front of you, asking weird questions.

But the problem was, "With my friends" was the actual code-word. 

"Good. Agent Natasha Romanoff. I assume you already know about the mission. I've got intel that Strucker's up in the VIP lounge." She gently tugged at your arm and pulled you off of your stool, handing you an earpiece. 

"Oh, um..." You tried to ask this 'Agent Natasha Romanoff' what was happening, but she continued to talk about things you couldn't even start to comprehend.

"Come on, put it on. We might need it." She stared you down, in a quite intimidating manner, that you had no choice but to follow. You really didn't know what was happening, whether this was role-playing or something else, you had no idea. 

You really didn't have much else to do anyway, maybe it wouldn't be that bad to just go with it. You were a little tipsy, but not so much that you could be dreaming about this whole conversation. Maybe it was this woman's way of hitting on you? They say weird things happen in clubs, right? (They don't)

"We have to get through the 4 security details on the outside, plus the 10 estimated to be inside." You watched with your eyes glued to her smooth movements, as she checked her various hidden weapons. You were so entranced that with a little help from alcohol, you managed to completely ignore the fact that this didn't look normal. At all.

"It's fine, I know you just started. Just be on alert, alright?" Although Natasha felt her partner's whole attitude was a little off, she shook it off, reminding herself that she had just started out. "Say, what should I call you?" She asked, starting to walk towards the stairs leading to Strucker's location.

"Oh, uhm- Y/N's fine." You stuttered, suddenly pulled away from a trance-like state you were in. "Right, and where are we go-" 

Suddenly, as the two of you got to the top of the stairs, Natasha shushed you and slammed you on the wall before you made a turn around the corner. Your cheeks burned up at her roughness, and her close proximity to you.

"Okay, I've got visual. 4 men, not an issue. Stay here." She whispered, and before you could even respond, she was out of your sight.

"What the fuck?!" After a few moments, you peeked over at where Natasha had gone, just to be met with a sight of 4 bodies on the floor. You debated whether to just run away while she was distracted, but she had already gotten to you, pulling you by your arm.

"I know this is your first field mission, Agent. But I need support." You had no reason to comply, except for the shiny black gun she held in her hands. Your breath hitched at the weapon, your mouth unable to form words. Telling yourself that this will be over soon, you could only follow. At the very least, she didn’t look like she was going to shoot you.

From there, you experienced something you never thought you would, ever, in your life. As soon as Natasha kicked open the door to the lounge, bullets were flying, kicks and punches were being thrown everywhere, knives flying across the air, and whole lotta things that had you cursing in confusion and fear every 10 seconds. 

Natasha, in the corner of her eyes, saw the panic that flashed across your eyes. She shoved you to the farthest corner of the room, shielding the knives and guns that pointed your way. She usually would’ve been annoyed at an Agent’s lack of experience, but seeing you so small almost hurt her physical heart.

You were curled up by the wall, watching this intricate dance of deadliness. But even though the chaos, the woman, who called herself Agent Natasha Romanoff was like a magnet for your eyes. Her movements, her punches, kicks, even the way she held her gun was so rhythmical and controlled, that you almost forgot you were in the middle of a gun-fight.

That's when it hit you. 

She was a real Agent who mistook you for her partner. 

So when Natasha was going one-on-one and overpowered by who seemed to be the leader of the gang, you only had 2 choices in front of you. Either you run while all the other men are knocked out and the leader is distracted, or you toughen up and help Natasha.

It was perfect. The mafia-looking guy had his back to you, completely unaware that you were even in the room. All rational thoughts went out the window as you heard Natasha choke in his grip. You almost don't remember what you did after that. All you know is that you slid your stun-gun out of your boot, and shot him right on his shoulder. 

You stood still in your spot after that, watching as she cleaned up.

"Thanks for the last-minute save." Natasha's voice sounded like you were hearing her from underwater, your senses dulled from the shock. You fell to the floor, suddenly losing control of your legs. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" She dropped the knocked out and hand-cuffed body of the man on the ground, and ran over to you.

"Agent... I'm not who you think I am." You looked up at her with glossy eyes, not even knowing why you were about to cry.

-a whole lot of explaining later-

"You're a civilian." She fell down next to you, clearly horrified by this new revelation. "I don't even know how to apologize. I'm sorry." She cradled her head in her hands, cursing herself for being so irresponsible.

"Uhm, Agent Romanoff? It's okay, I think." You wiped away your stray tears, cry-laughing at yourself and this whole ridiculous situation. Natasha looked over at you with sympathy filled in her eyes, laying a hand over yours that rested on the carpet.

"Oh god, this is crazy." Natasha couldn't do anything but laugh. The two of you kept on talking and laughing about how today turned out as you dragged the handcuffed body out of the VIP exit, and into her police-car like vehicle. 

You had to let her take you back to her office, to check you for injuries and explain the situation to her boss. You must’ve received at least 50 apologies from the both of them, but you assured them that you were okay.

And... it turns out, not a lot of people can react like you did in a first fight. On top of this, the Avengers were actually looking for a support agent, who stays back at the compound and become that “girl in the chair”. 

And guess how all of that coincidence on top of a coincidence turned out.

That simple night out led you inside a gigantic tower that everyone in New York knew about, where the notorious Avengers lived, the Stark Tower. 

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.” 

-a month later-

You felt emotionally fulfilled, looking out at the sight of the living room. When it was just you, it was always quiet, considering you used to lived on your own. But in a short span of a month, you quickly got used to the noisy mornings, the laughters and banters filling the room.

“Hi, принцесса.” You felt a pair of arms slide under your arms, and a small kiss planted on your bare shoulder. You giggled as Natasha twirled you around, sitting you down on the counter as she kissed you.

“Mm, good morning babe.” You whispered back. And in her strong arms, you felt what the people call love, in this fiery assassin. Natasha couldn’t ask for a better partner to share her deepest secrets with, to follow to the ends of the earth, and protect with all she had.

“Tonyyy, Y/N and Tasha are making out on your coffee beansss.” Clint yelled from his place on the couch, an evil smile on his face as Tony ran into the kitchen.

“Not my Tanzania Peaberry Coffee beans!” 

All is good. (?)

(The real Agent got shit-faced and was fired lol)

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Heyyyy uh I love your stuff and I had an idea that wont let me sleep 😂 What if like the reader was mia or something and everyone was really upset and nervous and cobb kept saying how you were dead until doc roe just has enough of his bullshit and just punches him. (Feel free to change the character i just thought doc losing his composure was an interesting concept) bonus points for romantic connection? Im sorry if this is horrible im vry vry tired

Taglist: @radiantcade, @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi, @noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @hufflepuffpancakes

yo i can totally get why this idea wouldn’t let u sleep. its because its damn good-  

lovely anon, this one is for you ;))))

also italic means past events-

words: 2.8k words (aww srry if its shorter than my other fics)

warnings: some violence, cursing, ANGST and sadly no resolved or happy ending :’((((

btw thank u @radiantcade for tellin me to make a taglist, major kudos to u ma’am. btw if you want to be added just hmu, no worries ;)))

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder (Eugene Roe x Reader)

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“Aw, Genie! Don’t look at me that way!”

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like you’re mad! C’mon Genie, it was only a joke! Y’know I didn’t mean to make you upset by taking your morphine-”

Gene shot you a look which seemed to look like a mix of exasperation and annoyance. He stiffly grabbed the small packets of morphine that were being held in your grip. Eugene then quickly stuffed them in his pocket before walking away from your position with his signature blank look.

“I’m not mad.”

“Hey! You are! I can tell by your face.”

You followed after him, desperate for him to accept your apology, or at least for him to give you a smile. You desperately tried to keep up with him, his brisk pace making it a challenge for you to walk by his side.

“Well, this is the face I got.”

He walked faster, seemingly trying to avoid or lose you. He walked through buildings, dove straight forward into crowds of people, or even going as far as to tell someone to block you. You still made haste though, and in no time were already hot on his heel. 

You grew tired of it and reached out to grab his hand. After you had his hand in yours, he stopped immediately and turned slowly to face you.

“For someone who’s mad, you’re acting awfully childish.”

“(Y/N), for the last time, I’m not mad. I can never get mad at you”

“Then what are you?”

You stood in front of him with one eyebrow quirked up and your hands on your hips. You tapped your foot on the ground as you waited for an answer.

You were left shocked as he pushed by you. He was only a couple steps away from you until he turned with a small smile and gave you a shrug before heading back to the Med Bay.

---------------------

It was that day, the day that Eugene Roe realized how much he cared for you.

It’s been four days since you disappeared from Easy Company. Four. Fucking. Days. Everybody was extremely worried and your absence has made everyone tense. 

If someone as lovable and skilled as you was missing, then they certainly wouldn’t stand a chance.

The men weren’t the same and it took a significant toll on every single one of them. But it especially took a large toll on the Cajun medic. Eugene couldn’t believe it. He refused to. He refused to believe that you weren’t there with them for four days.

Where the fuck were you? That was the thought on everyone’s minds. 

Eugene couldn’t comprehend it. It felt like only yesterday that you were there right beside him, making him turn as red as his nose and making his heart pound like a drum. 

Memories of you were still fresh on his mind, and they always seemed to taunt him.

He’d think of scenarios of you not being missing and how’d it was all just a big stupid joke or dream. Your face was all he could think about and his heart clenched every time.

It was soul-crushing, and he despised it. Eugene couldn’t focus since the day you were reported gone. Of course, he was fine after a few days, but the feeling of unease and tension grew with each passing moment. It gnawed on him continuously, but he couldn’t stop it.

(E/C) eyes and (H/C) hair was what he only wanted to see. But then he would see those beautiful eyes of yours dull and void of life, your once soft hair then greasy and matted with dried blood. Eugene would wake up in a cold sweat, the beating of his heart deafening him.

Everyone noticed his changed demeanor. Eugene got more cold, a little more distant and stand-offish. His personality mirrored everybody else’s after they got the news. But he was the one that was most affected. That was a fact.

Eugene was spacing off more than what was necessary. He was constantly in a daze and of course slower in his work. It was only when someone was injured that he was moving fast. But even then, he still wasn’t focused.

The spark of life in him was extinguished and that affected his work. He’d sometimes forget what he was doing, causing one of his patients to scream at his ear. 

It wasn’t the first time it happened. As the days went by, the more Eugene got caught up with his thoughts on your being. 

It caused him to get a nice chat with Winters on why he was acting like this.

“Roe… I know that it just might be nothing, but I noticed that you aren’t the same. Like something’s been bothering you. May I ask why you’re acting like this.”

“Sir, I think you already know of (Y/N) being MIA.”

Winters immediately looked down, as even someone with such authority like him was distraught about you. Winters quickly looked up and cleared his throat, eyes full or sorrow like Gene’s. 

Eugene straightened his back and he gripped onto the fabric of his pants.

“Of course… It’s been affecting everyone. I just wish that she was back with us. Do you still believe that she’s alive, Roe?”

“Of course, sir. I’m sure that she’ll turn up. Someday.”

“Maybe, Roe…” Winters nodded towards Eugene with a tight smile. “Dismissed.”

Eugene was being hit with numerous waves of anger, sadness, and worry. All five stages of grief were being experienced at the same time. He walked away, and even if he was supposed to be used to it by now, he couldn’t muster the courage to do so.

Images you being held prisoner and being tortured by the German Army scared him. Then images of you lying on the ground, fresh bullet wound on your head, the crimson liquid running down your face and onto the ground to create a morbid halo flashed afterwards. 

Eugene did nothing but drown in his thoughts underneath a tree nearby after that.

-------------------

“Gene?”

“Yes, mon ange?”

“Why do you always call me that?”

“For starters… You are one.”

“One of what?”

“An angel. ‘Mon ange’ means ‘my angel’. I also call you that because… Like I said, I am sure that you are one yourself. I wouldn’t believe you if you said you weren’t.”

The sun beamed down upon the two of you as you sat upon the grassy field. Your eyes were on the lush green trees in the distance, Eugene’s eyes, however, were fixed upon your face. You seemed oblivious to it, fortunately for him. 

You smiled and you turned your eyes to meet his, and you reached your (S/C) hands to intertwine with his bigger ones. You turned back to set your gaze on the forest, but the dark-haired man’s look never averted.

“Gene…”

“Hm?”

“You really think that?”

“Of course I do. God forbid the day I stop calling you mon ange.”

You rested your head on his shoulders, as the sun set over the horizon. Eugene tensed up momentarily before he relaxed, taking in your warm presence and happy demeanor. You tightened your hold on his hand and a smile crept on your lips.

“Je t’aime, mon ange…”

“I love you too, Genie.”

------------------

------------------

It had been more that a week since any sign of you. Some of the paratroopers had already seemed to have given up hoping for you to magically come back. No one dared to mention you, it was already too much to handle. Some of the privates that you knew couldn’t say your name without tearing up.

 Eugene felt like that too, but he was too cold to let anybody see him that way.

Most of Easy Company still held on to their feeble thoughts and dreams however. Eugene was one of them.

 He waited for a sign. Any sign. No matter how insignificant or small, he wanted one. He just wanted a sign that reassured him that you were indeed fine and well.

Eugene of course waited patiently for it. His nights were spent praying for you to return to them. Most importantly, to return to him.

 By then he would make sure that you would always be by his side. By then he’d also make sure that he won’t take those fleeting moments he spends with you for granted.

Eugene already did that too much and those were one of the many things he regrets. If he ever sees your face again, he’ll make sure to make you his the moment he lays his eyes on you. That was exactly what he was going to do.

For the time being, Eugene and a few of the boys from Easy Company were lazing around in their bunks, and some already sleeping. They were practically waiting for anything. Orders. An attack. Maybe even you returning...

Moments like these passed uneventfully. That was what Eugene always thought. The soft rumbling and muffled sounds of German artillery hitting something didn’t surprise them anymore. 

“Why are you all so quiet?”

A familiar annoying voice rang out through the room and most heads turned towards the culprit. Eugene mildly disliked Cobb, he was annoying sure, but he didn’t really do anything to make Eugene’s blood boil. Others ignored him, seemingly thinking that dealing with Cobb just isn’t worth it.

Cobb had a different plan. As soon as he saw that nobody paid attention and answered his question, he opened his mouth and crossed the line that no man in Easy Company has ever dared to step over.

“Are you guys still thinking about (Y/N)?

The air immediately grew stagnant and sour, and the men of Easy turned to face Cobb, who had a very shit-eating grin on his face. Eugene was one of the men who turned to him, and he glared hard at Cobb. 

“Oh come on, she’s clearly dead.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Cobb.” George snapped at Cobb, who didn’t seem to listen.

 The air was full of tension and every man in the room wanted to throw Cobb into a fucking fire. Eugene then turned away, anger gnawing at his mind. Some of the men were clearly in discomfort, one of them even excusing themselves from the room.

“Just think about it, a girl, like her? She’s clearly gone, I mean she’s been missing for what? A week? Take a look at people who’ve been missin’ for a day. Look where they ended up. They ended up dead.”

“Do you not know when to shut your fucking mouth?”

“Well all of you are really stupid for believing she’s going to come back! She’s fucking dead, get over it. What’s so special about her anyway, huh?”

Liebgott sprung from his seat and walked to stand face to face with Cobb. Eugene begged for Cobb to shut up for once. The dark-haired man narrowed his eyes at Cobb, his lips pursing as he sat tense in his seat.

You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to disappear and to be talked in this way by a man who had the same brain capacity as fucking rock. 

Eugene clenched his fists as he looked down on his lap. It took all of his will to not strangle Cobb right then and there.

Cobb’s pestering voice kept ranging out throughout the room, the men were trying their best to make him stop his bullshit. It was like a buzzing mosquito next to Eugene’s ear, and he wanted it gone.

“(Y/N)’s dead, you fucking idiots. All of Easy Company would be way better without her anywa-”

“Shut up. Shut up!”

Eugene lunged from his chair, the creaking of the wooden air on the cold ground rang throughout the air. But it wasn’t the harsh creaking that made everyone silent. It was the fact that Eugene Roe, the cold medic who kept to himself, snapped. Immediately everyone’s eyes widened as they eyed Eugene.

The Cajun man felt nothing but pure, unfiltered rage as he looked straight into Cobb’s eyes. He couldn’t tell, but Eugene was shaking. His clenched fist raised up in the air to direct itself into Cobb’s jaw.

 A sickening crack was heard as Cobb fell into the floor and Eugene only looked in indifference.

Cobb fell down on the floor as he cried out, the eyes of the men in the room only widened further as they looked to each other for any sort of answer as to what came over Eugene. 

Everyone knew that you and Eugene were close, rumours were even spreading around that you two were dating, which turned out to be true.

They weren’t anticipating Eugene almost knocking out Cobb though. It was bound to happen, anyway. Eugene couldn’t let you get insulted by Cobb, he didn’t stand up for it. The angry red feeling was intense as it coursed through his entire body as he opened his lips to speak again.

“Do you even hear yourself, you selfish bastard? You only care about yourself and you never take into consideration what's going on, do you? If (Y/N) is dead, so what? She’s still a better soldier and person than you are.”

Cobb sat still as Eugene went on his rant, his hand clenching his aching jaw and head. Eugene was seething beyond recognition and everyone just looked in shock.

“-I don’t get it! How come she gets to die while you stay here with us? How come it isn’t you in her place? How come you’re the one here instead of her?”

Harsh words flew from Eugene’s mouth, each syllable was laced in venom and his accent making each word hurt more. Eugene pointed at Cobb repeatedly as he raised his hands. During his anger-filled speech, the photograph he kept with him fell to the ground.

Eugene fell silent as he went up to pick up the picture. It was a photograph of you. You were smiling with not a care in the world. You were wearing your uniform proudly as you showed off your jump wings to the camera. You were beautiful...

But most importantly, you were still there with him. As reality dropped down upon him like a pile of bricks and he hurriedly shoved the faded photograph into his pocket.

 His eyes fell upon a shaken Cobb and his anger was only fueled more. He stood up straighter and his eyebrows furrowed more.

“She deserved it way more than you! (Y/N) didn’t need people talking about her behind her back! (Y/N) didn’t need to be separated from us! So tell me, why on Earth are you not gone, but she is? Give me a good reason!”

Cobb stayed silent as he mumbled angrily under his breath while clutching his jaw, his eyes were narrowed at Eugene who stared back. 

“Get the fuck out.”

Immediately Cobb git back on his feet, his hands grabbing the wall for support before stumbling for the door to outside. Cobb threw one last glare at Eugene before opening the door and heading out of the building.

The slam of the door echoed in the building, and heads turned towards the medic. Eugene stood in his spot, eyes glued to the closed door where Cobb had just left. 

His chest was still rising up and down heavily, and exasperated breaths were pulled from his mouth. George slowly brought up a hand to go onto Eugene’s shoulder, but Eugene pulled away before he could.

“Eugene?”

“I’m going outside…”

His deep voice was menacing, but they held deep amounts of pure and utter despair. The boys decided to let him go as they saw his state. Heavy footsteps were heard as Eugene walked to the door. 

He hesitated for a moment before heading out in the cold, biting air. Eugene gingerly took the photo from his pocket and he held it by his fingertips as he lovingly gazed at your smiling face.

He sat on the debris near the stone building, but it was hidden from sight, giving him time to himself. The medic looked at the photograph with a melancholy expression, another tight smile was brought on his face.

The world was cruel, Eugene knew that, but he never experienced it this hard. The pain from losing a patient or friend in his hands was incomparable to the pain he felt at this moment. The snow fell on the ground, a calm and serene sight. Which was a complete opposite of Eugene.

Soft yet clear sniffles were heard as fresh tears dropped on the snow below. He tried to choke back tears, but they ran down his cold cheeks.

 Eugene brought his hands to wipe them away, but they were quickly replaced. His lip quivered and Eugene attempted to stay as quiet as he could. He stifled more cries and whimpers and he leaned his head back.

That photo taunted him.

Your smiling face in the photograph only brought him temporary relief and happiness, but he needed the real you. Eugene loved you so much. Maybe a litte too much. 

But you would never know the extent of his love… Your fate was unknown, but his hopes were crushed as soon as those dreaded words left Cobb’s lips.

Eugene Roe, the now dazed and distant medic of Easy Company, has finally broken.

-------------------

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im not crying i swear-

btw sorry this is shorter than my other fics but i hope you liked what i did! im sorry if it didnt come up the way you would have wanted but hopefully you still enjoy it!

but this request got me fucked up and i sort of wanted to torture myself by writing angst-

anyways thank you sweet anon!😭💕💕

[neo-shitty]

toffee!

hehe glad i could make you laugh, oooh that sounds awesome! yeah id love to be tagged it sounds great :)

YES the differences are so fucking weird. like, they do know they're the same age right? i feel like its just an exagguration of how much the persons role in the group matters, like we see chan being held up as such a mature, old leader while jungkook who is literally the same age, is still babied etc. like enha hyung line is basically the same age (if a bit younger) as chenle and jisung but somehow the rules are different?? as you point out, still legal but still bizarre. hehe yeah, i mean where else are we going to rant? quora lol. mmm, hopefully more people can just write less smut abt people who are barely adults

ah, no prob it didnt take long. yeah i think thats right (i keep forgetting you know my url lol) mmhmm :( i think if that happened irl there would be some major trauma going on. knock wood it never happens to you or me lol (/hj)

hehe same! oooh glad Redemption For Cheese was realised! yess we cant rllycomplain that theyve written/produced too much good music lol. yeah, ive dragged him into being a stay so *dusts hands off* mission accomplished. mmm yeah, they tend to have a certain vibe but tbh it couldve worked if they were any other group but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ahh ur one step ahead of me on the stages of listening to ssick i think, still not convinced but thats okay! hehe, it had to be said. yesss the itch in the back of my brain is very satisfied by sorry i love you, felixs vocals deserve to be appreciated! (side note i feel like hes trying to sing more like his speaking voice, sorta husky, but tbh i wouldnt be mad if he sang like in glow, his sweet honey vocals made my life lol. but i think ive heard him say he doesnt like singing like that cos it makes his normal voice less husky, so what can you do)

> YES SOMEONE SAID IT. seungmin rap KING, he sped thru that rap like it was nothing, he deserves more rap lines. i do like how they gave minho some melodic rap lines this comeback, my guy deserved to show off those skills that made him not be eliminated (flashbacks to stay collectively wanting to murder jyp) and we already know changbin can sing, my man murdered masked singer. hyunjin can obviously sing as can jisung and felix, and i want to hear chan rap more! i feel like he started as part of 3racha (as a rap unit not producing) and then just became a vocalist (which im fine with, but it could be nice to hear him flex his rapping skills) and was partially replaced by hyunjin. anywayyy

back to album talk. lmaooo sad music to twerk to PERFECTLY describes silent cry. yes secret secret is and will always be, a masterpiece. hehe glad i could make you laugh :) i just felt like they have similar vibes. putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised. oh my beloved track, red lights. ahh thats okay, we can have different opinions, but by god the lyrics are *chefs kiss*. *banging on table* TWISTED AU TWISTED AU TWISTED AU. yess id love to see ur take on it! sdfghjkl it would have been glorious

no no! not stupid, just able to predict my brainwaves. ooooh thats so cool! makes me want to go there (wherever there is lol) yeah the waves are pretty good here, but none of my familys a surfer, so we dont rlly enjoy the full potential lol. YES moving on to gone away, it is indeed a heartwrenching track, but the vocals and the bloody key change? makes me want to brave being sad just to listen to it. mmm yeah, good point :( i feel like ive just gotten used to overthinking so much so that it doesnt matter what mood im in, ill do it anyway, so might as well just do what i feel like doing anyway.

yeah i think ur right! it is quite comforting knowing that all the tracks will get the love they deserve. i feel like also people assume kpop is just one genre which is utter bs. there are so many different vibes and feels and songs, i couldnt get into kpop (of which i thought only the bright cheerful present day bts stuff existed smh) until i heard gods menu so... idk where i was going with this but yeah. :)

YES FUCK YG, theyre literally on the brink of being kicked out of the big three and they are holding their salvation hostage without letting them do ANYTHING. idek what thought process goes thru their minds but arghhh its so infuriating. yess lisa's cb will be awesome but ot4 is the gold standard here.

hehe, glad u could get to this point. no no! u dont sound like a cult member at all lol yeah, i loooove some of their songs but the whole 23 members thing is getting to me. thats prob a common problem with nctzens but what can i say? im a simple girl with a limit to how many korean boys i can give my money to. atm im just trying to get into ateez and finish memorising enhypen's faces. also kard is kinda sucking me into their fandom atm, as well as eric name lol. ah what can you do? ooh thats good!

hehe i love it too! its exactly like online penpals, that was rlly well put. aww ty! hmm im okay, recovering from a bad case of rsv so thats fun. im doing okay mentally, starting therapy soon (after having to convince my mother that its not just smth i can brush off). physically i wont go into, basically i should be doing stretches to help but they dont completely fix it so my lazy ass doesnt do them, plus i got told recently im going to be stuck with this condition for the rest of my life so thats fun! ah, before you type smth dw abt me ill be fine. the weather atm is cloudy but warm, its been raining on and off today which is good for the garden. uhh i just finished reading sunburnt veils and im in the middle of prom theory which is rlly good. ummm ive got a concert tonight? that i may or may not be able to sing in (bc of the whole rsv thingo) and uhhhh idk. my dog is cute? im drinking tea rn? ive got a school dance coming up?

wbu? hows ur day going, how are you? whats the weather like on ur end? done anything interesting lately? found smth that makes you rlly happy? just any random thing youve been dying to tell someone?

no no! dont apologise, i love these exchanges. i think im happy to continue them for a long time :) on the other hand, if you get tired of them, feel free to just not answer at any time. goodness gracious this was a long ask haha hope it isnt too annoying

<3 w.a. 🐺

sorry it took me a bit to reply, i was fixing my theme ;n;

yeah, i figured it was because of the roles too. my friends and i still get taken aback when 3rd gen idols are the same age as 4th gen ones. in my head it doesn't add up sometimes. PLS THE RANT AT QUORA SKJDK tbh tho it's just going to be normalized as the years pass? esp that the boys are growing older and the amount of explicit fics will just increase. i might have to start blocking tags.

i had to look up the previous ask to remember what we were talking about xd i hope the events in champagne problems never happens to anyone. realistically, it probably happens a lot. damn i really won't wish that pain on anyone. dragging your brother into being a stay i whEEZED JFKSA additional noeasy music enthusiast o.o and ALL I CAN SAY WITH YOU GUSHING ABT FELIX IS AHA WHIPPEEEED OML can't blame you tho, i also want to hear felix sing more in other shades (if that makes sense HAHA) i really hope they'll do the role exchange in the next comeback :( or like in the near future bc i know they can do it :( the day i hear seungmin rapping it i will respectfully pass away. minho was given more lines this comeback thank fUCK i could rmb my irl being vocal abt her frustration. i don't get why minho barely has center time/lines in title tracks??? like the line distribution in the past eras just made me ???? if seventeen can balance lines with 13 members why cant a group of 8 do the same? moving on. i haven't watched the stray kids show simply bc i don't want to cry HAJS but i've seen clips. imagine if skz debuted without minho and felix?!?!? i rmb another irl catching bias feels towards changbin bc of the masked singer only to find out that the man's a rapper. i love how skz's vocals were highlighted this comeback :c there were a lot of mellow tracks! i find it cute when chan sings/raps bc it gets kinda obvious that he's a foreigner? the accent (im not even sure if it's the accent) it just shows. "putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised." CORRECT.

abt the twisted au o.O i'll inquire my irl if she wants to write it or not. if she doesn't want to, i'll do it. i miss writing twisted aus <3___<3 and i also miss going to the beach with my friends :' ) but it's starting to get cold here and i don't think i'll be able to enjoy the beach as much as i would if i went beaching in the summer. so maybe next summer? gone away really has an sm-ballad vibe. the thing about skz being a self-producing group, their songs don't sound like typical jype songs? and i just appreciate that bc in all honesty im not a fan of jyp groups at all. PLS the overthinking. i wish i could mute overthinking.

anyone who assumes kpop is just one genre obv hasn't listened to a single track. if kpop was just one genre why do i like some tracks more than the others??? oh you've only recently become a kpop stan? tbh im not a fan of the bright songs of bts either. i liked their older ones *chefs kiss* really matched high school vibes. yg has good artists and they're just wasting the talent ~.~ that strategy they have will get tiring eventually. people will stop waiting on blackpink and move on to newer more active groups ://

HAHAHAH yeah the 23 members is pretty overwhelming! it was the reason i didn't bother stanning before quarantine started. i don't regret stanning tho, met my ult bias in that group <3___<3 i don't really purchase albums unless i like the tracks xd ohhh getting into ateez just in time for the comeback! let me know what you think about them! i was fond of them at some point but grew out of it. good luck with memorizing enhypen! it took me a while to distinguish to people there XD i haven't checked out kard yet but chan plays their songs during lives and they're sexc hype music me likey *u*

i had to look up rsv im sorry. i'm glad you're recovering! please rest more and don't stress yourself out. bro i wish i could go to therapy too bc i have weird issues i can't justify and i need a professional to tell me what's the reason behind it. stuck with what condition btw? what happened? i'm sorry in case i just forgot. yesterday was a bit rainy for me too :(( it's not the type of rainy that makes me anxious so B) oh concert! good luck and i hope you'll be able to sing but i also don't think it's best for you rn :c what's your dog's breed? and yes i just finished drinking tea too. AAAAA i miss school dances :(( the last one i was supposed to have was cancelled bc of covid.

i was less productive today and i'm teetering between being mentally stable and becoming a hermit again. i'm anxious with a lot of things atm so like : D not the best state. today it was a bit sunny but not hot hot which was nice. i changed my theme today bc i couldn't wait for sept. 1st. and no i haven't found anything that makes me happy HAHAHA shit like that's hard to identify. don't have anything to say too, i'm just thinking about why i'm procrastinating too much atm T_T and i'm listening to this rap song atm and one of the rappers sounded like han.

it isn't annoying! i enjoy the long exchanges but i do admit it takes me awhile to type down a reply. so if i get more busy, it'll prolly take a bit longer for me to reply.

[lesmismignon]

replying to anon messages

In this post I shall reply to the messages that have been sitting in my inbox for a regrettably long period of time. (It is loooooong. Please click “keep reading” at your own risk.)

I’m not a very good correspondent. I’m very sorry. I never know what to say right off the bat, and then during 2019 and 2020 when I was mostly on hiatus, I would just post a chapter or two and poof back out, and on Tumblr I would browse a few things and then poof back out. I do not have a good track record with social media and online presence in general. And with real life problems (mostly due to work), at worst it was impossible to muster even the strength to write. It was maddening.

But there is something about Hellsing and its fandom that reels me back in even when I am far away. Excuse me if this sounds cheesy, but for me fandoms are like the orbit of a comet. If it is something that you loved, and will continue to love even when you are not “active” on it, you will come back to it, someday, somehow. I’ll always be grateful to Hellsing, for being an inspiration to write, for being a bridge to some of my dearest relationships, for some of the kindest messages I’ve ever received in my life.

you freed yourself for a job that was not good for you and related to toxic people (Integra-like – demanding the respect you deserve). That is badass brave – and that doesn’t become less by that fact that maybe the next job you got is not the end of the journey but still part of the way. And you are brave by sharing your work, sharing your stories revealing parts of your emotional world to the outside – that is totally bad as too. I think you can be very proud of you, really. So maybe right now, you might be in situation that does not yet make you happy in way you deserve it. But you know- there is big chance that this is part of your journey to this place – imagine, in some time from now, you may be a successful (brilliant you are already) author and in an interview you say something like “yes, back there in 2016/17 I went through some tough times, that influenced the work very much I got this price for today”. So just in case you maybe cannot see it right now yourself – please allow me to tell you – you are brave and wonderful. And re. the brave decision you mentioned – I know I am not in the position to tell you anything – but please do not do any harm to you. So, thank you so much for your work you share with the world, my life is better with it. Take care for yourself, you deserve the best. (so sorry, I am really not good with words, hope you get my point….)

Anon, this was the kindest thing you could have ever done for little 2016/17 me. Oh God. Time does fly by so fast. I want you to know that I read this message a long time ago, and it gave me strength to go on, even though I’m not sure if I am so brave, to be compared to our lady Integra >< I hope you are happy and safe, wherever you are. I hope you know how brave and wonderful *you* are. Thank you so much.

just wanted to drop by and say I love all your fanfictions! You capture Integra and Alucard's characters so well; I LOVE it. Take all the time you need updating. You deserve it. And good luck at your job! <3

Ah, I probably changed jobs like twice since then. But they have been all good and meaningful in their own ways. I really did not mean to take THIS long in updating but I hope that you enjoyed the recent updates if you are still reading, thank you so much!

Why can I not write here? I just wanted you to know I am grateful for the reading joys that are 'Snow White' and 'Satis'...

Thank you Anon! I am so glad you enjoyed them!

I LOVE SATIS SO MUCH YOUR WRITING IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND FLOWY AND IT MAKES ME CRY PLEASE KEEP UP THE BRILLIANT WORK!!

Thank you Anon! You give me too much praise, but I shall indeed try to keep it up!

Hey so please don't take this as me pressuring you but I absolutely adore Satis! Is there any chance we might know when the next update is coming in? Totally understand if not- it sounds like work is taking a lot out of you and I understand that you're writing fan fiction purely for fun but DAMN IF I DON'T WANT TO READ MORE OF YOUR FIC OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH ASDFGHJKL!!!

I’m sorry it’s been ages! I’ll tell you my schedule(???) for this year instead! For this year of 2021 I really hope to average maybe at least 1 chapter a month but I don’t know how I’ll fare during the busy months. I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters if you are still reading!

@fierce-little-miana Can you believe that I have just noticed that I had given you any kudos for Snow White or Satis?! Sorry! Your stories are really worth all the praise we can give them. (so I corrected it) Have a nice day!

Thank you! I’m terribly sorry for this late reply. You’ve been so kind and sent so many lovely messages. Thank you again for each and every one of them!

@sinish-tem Hey sorryy for bothering you but. That ALutegra fic was AMAZING!!I LOVE IT!Amazing job sport<3

You’re not bothering me at all! Thank you old sport!

So I don't mean to rush you or be annoying or anything, but is Satis still happening? (plz plz say yes)

You’re not being annoying! I’m sorry it took so long! Yes :)

Hello! So, um, I have to ask... is Satis going to be updated? It’s just that it’s one of my absolute favorite stories by my absolute favorite author!

Thank you! I’m honored! I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters if you’re still reading!

Hi! Are you still around? Are you doing ok?

Yes, I am fine now, thank you :) I hope you are doing well, too!

@aniphine Hi! First off, I want to say that I absolutely love your writing style and am so looking forward to diving into all of your fics! I just finished Satis and it’s definitely in my Top 10 Fanfics ever, which is saying something! Thanks so much for writing it. On that note, I wanted to ask if you had plans to update it? If not, that’s totally cool - what you’ve written already is fantastic. But if so, I’d pledge my life to you in order to get a chance at reading more. 😆 Anyhoo, you’re awesome! 👋

Thank you so much! You are awesome too! I’m honored that Satis is in your top 10!!

@dontfuckingfollowmeifpornblog You still around?

I am now! Thank you!

@comixqueen Hello have I told you that I really love your Hellsing fics? ;u;/ They're among the best out there and I reread them often!

Thank you very much. That means a lot to me from you. Thank you for rereading, I’m always wary of my earlier writing but I’m glad if people still enjoy them.

I have never squealed higher than when I received the notification for the new chapter of Satis. You are a true blessing <3 thank you for your words

You are a blessing! Thank you so much!

Hello! I know you're not very active around here, but I just saw a trailer for a movie based on the letters of Vita and Virginia, and I was immediately reminded of Satis and the quotes you so expertly used in the narration, and I thought I might tell you in case you're interested in the movie (the title is literally Vita and Virginia) <3

Thank you Anon! I did see the trailer! I haven’t seen the movie yet though, but I will, eventually! I am so glad you think I did the quotes justice! It’s such a beautiful quote.

Not sure how to start this, might be a little bold, and yet; let me simply say that I am in love with your written works. In fact, so much so that I read it all again, and again. It never ceases to amaze. And as for you, the person behind it all, you do seem immensely precious as well. I hope that you have the most fantastic day, you deserve no less.

Anon, you are so very kind. Thank you so much for your lovely words. I am just an ordinary person unusually invested in a particular set of fictional characters xD and I am often late to things and a bad correspondent, but I must be doing something right if you’re sending me a message as lovely as this. Thank you again, I hope you are having fantastic days as well.

Honestly ive read your snow white fic years ago but I loved it insanely much and im about to read it again today ^.^

Thank you Anon! Ah, Snow White. I am very glad you still enjoy it. It is so old, and I wish I had the courage to edit it and spruce it up, or even update an extra or two...

Are you ever planning to continue Satis? I’m in love with that piece of work.

Thank you Anon! Yes! I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters!

My literal text to a friend of mine that's also a fan of Satis when I got the AO3 mail about the new chapter was: "NOW THEY'RE FINALLY STARTING TO BE *HAPPY* HOLIDAYS"

I am very glad I was able to bring you holiday cheer. Would it be bold of me if I say I aim to bring you non-holiday cheer as well, now? xD Thank you so much!

HEY JUST CAME HERE TO SAY I LOVE SATIS, OKAY BYYYYE

HELLO ANON! THANK YOUUUUU

[itwillbeall-dwight]

what happens in metropolis

david tapp & dwight fairfield; canon-typical violence; saw timeline!dwight; panic attack tw; 3481 words

a/n: did you think i was gonna write things that made sense? HA thats very funny. anyways i hc dwight is from the saw timeline. why? because i like dwight and i like saw ok, shut up. i also want some dad tapp content and if i have to make it myself then i WILL.

i’ve got a couple more fics that are almost done, i promise im not dead. as always, drabble reqs are open, so if you liked this for some reason, get into my askbox ya dingus.

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: The leader gave a weak smile, moreso to comfort himself than anything else, it seemed, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. “OK… what now?” “We’ve gotta that off you. Did she… explain the rules?” “I… no, but I-I think I’ve got it.” Dwight started to shuffle where he was curled up, trying to get to his feet, but he was still somewhat shaky, like a newborn fawn, leaning on the wall of scrap as well as Tapp for support. He inhaled, and exhaled, breath still short. “There were… boxes, I think the key is in there.” Of course, that made the most sense, it seemed. “Right. You start heading to one of those, and I’ll-”

From across the yard, a generator powered on, and from where they sat, the clock started counting down. 

Waking up by the campfire was like waking up from a bad hangover. There was a thump in his head and the taste of iron in the back of his throat, as he shielded his eyes from the distant light of fire. As he stirred, the little company residing by the flames paid him mind, checking on his condition, asking who he was with a pity in his eyes that he didn’t quite understand. But he told them regardless - he was David Tapp, a detective from the Metropolitan PD (former, though they didn’t need to know that, not yet), and, as far as he remembered, he was investigating the Jigsaw murders.

 They didn’t know much, about the fog and forest that surrounded them, but the redheaded Meg told him what they knew, introducing him around the camp at the few people that were there - some of them were in a ‘trial’, she’d said, while also adding she’d explain that later, as well - trying to make him feel as at ease as he could be in the situation they were in. He sat down on a log as she went off to talk to the girl in the beanie again, taking his hat off and rubbing the back of his neck, looking down at the dull police badge that hung around his neck, almost mocking him at a false sense of status.

 “I, um- hey.”

A voice next to him made him look up, meeting the eyes of a man in glasses, fiddling with his tie. The leader of the group, Meg had said. Dwight was his name. Tapp forced a small smile. “Uh… hey.”

“Do you, um…” He seemed oddly nervous, avoiding eye contact and simply moving a hand to gesture to the seat next to the detective. “Do you mind i-if I-”

He silently moved aside, letting the younger man sit down, oddly tense and awkwardly keeping his eyes on the fire in front of them, or maybe to the conversation quickly growing heated between the beanie girl and the tall brutish young man just across from the campfire. Tapp followed his eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on his legs-

“I-I know who you are.”

The phrase was somewhat unnerving, coming from the man in the glasses now staring very intently at him as his head almost snapped back to look at him. The detective hesitated for a moment. “Y… yeah?”

“...That sounded… really bad- god, I-I’m sorry, I just- I- argh, dammit-”

“No, no, you’re good, kid.”

He inhaled, and exhaled, wringing his hands as if to calm himself down. “You’re… Detective David Tapp, aren’t you? You were investigating the Jigsaw murders. I-I saw your… your memorial, on TV.”

A breath caught in his throat, if only for a moment, as he tried not to think about the thought of a send off when he still was still alive, in… some capacity. “I… see.”

There was an empty silence after that revelation, with Dwight still keeping his eyes on the man as he swallowed, seeming to try and wrap his head around the idea that someone had watched him live and die. “You did an a-amazing job, if it… means anything.”

He sighed, sitting up, his voice lower, as if not to alert the others - better not to spread the secret too far… at least, not yet. “Did they catch the bastard?”

He paused. “I… yeah. They caught one of them, I-I think. Kind of. He, uh… died.”

There was a quiet growl from the man. Of course there had to be more than one. For a moment, he thought back to the doctor he was tailing - just who else was involved in those twisted games of playing god? And if not him, who was it?

They didn’t speak much more on it, after that, as the trial had concluded and a hand slapped down on his shoulder, introductions moving swiftly on and leaving the young man who knew too much about him with his mouth hanging open. 

 Despite their first meeting, Dwight was a capable leader, Tapp soon learned. He was a kind man, sacrificial to a point, nowhere near as much of a coward as he’d initially thought, as he watched him push his friends over to take a slash from a machete or a pair of mangled claws. He made plans, gave orders - no matter the weak disposition it was given in, one that felt like paper in a strong breeze - and protected those who he called his friends, no matter the teasing and harsh words thrown his way by a select few. He was a man trying to prove himself, either to those around him or…

 Tapp had learned what trials were, soon enough, guided by Claudette as they tried to evade the Trapper, a large, tall man, armed with a machete and bear traps, as if he was hunting down small game in the forest… in a way, that was almost accurate. That trial, while stressful, soon passed in success, and while the whole situation was still unbelievable, he soon found himself oddly adapting to the new world in the fog that he found himself in - get in, try not to die, repair generators, and leave. It didn’t take long for him to take the initiative and start giving input on plans of attack, earning a joking comment from the old gambler of the group that maybe he was better made for the leadership position than who was currently in employ. He tried to ignore that, for Dwight’s sake. 

 This should have been no different. Though this was his first time in the Autohaven Wreckers, loud annoyed groaning from Nea when the fog cleared was enough to make him think that this wasn’t going to be easy. After catching sight of Laurie and Dwight, the four of them split off, aiming to find generator’s around the wrecker’s yard, for efficiency’s sake. One was already powered by the time he spotted a pair of blinking lights… but between the trees, something else caught his eyes. A box, not like anything he’d seen previously, steel casing rusted, though untouched. But the box, while interesting in its own right, wasn’t what made him approach the damn thing.

 It was the monochromatic ventriloquist dummy sat on top. 

 Seeing that bastard puppet was enough to make him approach slowly, staring at the box it sat upon - it was like seeing an old friend, but one you’d want to snap the neck of. And it stared back, almost mocking him. His stomach turned. Had Gordon followed him? That had to be who this was, right? Tapp gritted his teeth, wanting to punch the damn thing off of its torture throne, but knowing that would probably alert… someone to where he was, someone he didn’t want to know. So he forced himself to tear away, fists clenched. It was like wading through water as he crouched down by a nearby generator, pulling at levers and twisting at cogs to make it sigh and whir… though that puppet never stopped looking at him. And he never stopped looking back, until-

 A loud scream made him duck behind the generator for a moment, wincing at the grinding of metal against a scrap wall, and the begging, the pleading… no one had ever reacted like that before. The curiosity was enough to make him look around the mechanical device to catch a glance of the Jigsaw killer.

He recognized her movements, and the way she carried herself almost right away, and the way he kicked himself would have made him double over. Of course Amanda was involved - the bastard broke her down, and rebuilt her in his own design. And now, she was just as much of a prisoner as he was, stuck in the fog with nothing to do but suffer at the hands of her fate. Though she took hers with pride, it seemed. She enjoyed the hunt, the chase and the kill. Was she too far gone to be saved from that which she thought had first saved her? He couldn’t entirely say. 

 The philosophical waxing had to be paused, though, as quiet, panicked whimpers made him stop, hands hovering over the generator he was about to resume repairing. He listened to the strained, weakened breathing, almost holding his own to listen. It was just in front of him, where the attack had failed. Slowly standing to his feet, the detective did what he did best - keeping his posture low as to not be spotted by the pig-headed woman, he went to investigate.

 It was Dwight, hidden behind a wall with his back pressed against it, and he was in a bad way, holding onto the space around in his collarbone, blood staining his palms as he tried to muffle his panicked That wasn’t what originally drew the detective’s attention, however, as a familiar helmet was strapped to his head, almost entirely covering his face. He felt his stomach drop.

“...Fairfield-” He kept his voice quiet, but it still startled the nervous man, who only started to panic more, it seemed. He put a hand on Dwight’s shoulder, and god, was he shaking under his grip. “Right, right, just breathe, kid.” 

Tired eyes look up at him from inside the helmet, strained and shallow breaths from hyperventilation making his chest move up and down at a worrying pace. He couldn’t say anything, he only held Tapp’s arm in place to keep him there.

“C’mon, you got this, in and out.”

Dwight soon followed instructions, taking as much care as he could to breathe, though he hiccupped and stuttered from tears every so often.

“Yeah… there you go. That’s it.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Tapp gave the man a gentle nod, digging into his belt for a couple of medical supplies he’d scraped together earlier in the trial. “Let’s get you up and at ‘em, yeah?”

 He calmed down enough to start panic rambling, and the way he switched from one extreme to another was almost welcome, as Tapp gently wrapped the bandaged over the deep cut from the hidden blade. Dwight spoke of before the fog, when he was alone in his shitty apartment with nothing but two birds to keep him company, barely earning enough to afford to live, but surviving by the skin of his teeth every month when the rent was due. He’d hardly slept before, but murders on your doorstep didn’t make it any better, especially since they were targeting the average man, just like him. And after an accident he conveniently skipped around, his paranoia only got worse.

“I-I saw one, once.” He stuttered, voice almost echoing through the trap on his head, as Tapp tied off the gauze.

“A murder?”

“A trap. In the open. A-and no one could do anything about it, I saw it on my way to work. The girl, she was- I… god, they just-”

“Fuckin’ Christ…”

“Yeah… yeah, that. Exactly that.” The leader gave a weak smile, moreso to comfort himself than anything else, it seemed, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. “OK… what now?”

“We’ve gotta that off you. Did she… explain the rules?”

“I… no, but I-I think I’ve got it.” Dwight started to shuffle where he was curled up, trying to get to his feet, but he was still somewhat shaky, like a newborn fawn, leaning on the wall of scrap as well as Tapp for support. He inhaled, and exhaled, breath still short. “There were… boxes, I think the key is in there.”

Of course, that made the most sense, it seemed. “Right. You start heading to one of those, and I’ll-”

 From across the yard, a generator powered on, and from where they sat, the clock started counting down. 

 That only started to send Dwight off again, eyes growing wide with fear as he looked back to the detective, who seemed equally as stunned. It seemed like she’d been busy, workshopping her craft.

As the leader started to buckle under his own weight again, Tapp grabbed onto his arm - not too hard, but just firm enough to keep him in place - and began looking around between trees for that bastard puppet that he’d seen earlier in the trial. As he tried to keep them both out of sight, he heard the stifled breathing behind him, as the leader tried to calm himself down while the two leaned around a tree, watching the Pig chase after the determined blonde in the blue shirt. He reached to grip onto Tapp’s shoulders, knuckles going white from the force, palms sweaty. Tapp put a hand on top of one, and gently tapped at it for a silent comfort. Once the killer was well distracted, he led Dwight to the first box. No luck.

 A second box, on the same side of the junkyard.  A quarter of the time gone. Nothing.

 Box three, on a hill besides the dingy old shack. Half time. Nothing.

 Now with only one box left, the leader was growing more frantic. Tapp held onto his wrist as he pulled him around the killer shack, pressing his back against the wall, his own heartbeat in his ears matching the beeping from the helmet. He looked back to the younger survivor.

“It’s just up ahead. Go.”

“She k-knows I’m- I-I’ll die, I’m going t-to-”

“I’ll cover you. Go, grab your life.” He was firm in his demand. But still, the leader didn’t move. He repeated, raising his voice a little. “Go!”

Dwight followed that order, practically stumbling over himself to leap to the box and shove his hands into it, wincing as his hands dug into needles and thorns on the inside that he couldn’t see.

And while the detective’s eye followed him, he noticed someone else following him as well, concealed in the grass, ready to pounce. He gritted his teeth, silently asking her to forgive him someday for what he was about to do (and what he had already done), before reaching down by the entrance to the old shack and grabbing a handful of pebbles. Tapp weighed these in his hand for a moment, before tossing them in her direction.

Bullseye. He heard her squeal from the hit, before growling and standing to her feet, turning in the detective’s direction, where he made no attempt to hide himself, ready to throw another rock should she choose to ignore him. “...Fancy meeting you here.”

“Could say the same to you.”

“I hadn’t realised I wasn’t the only pig that they’d let out of the slaughterhouse. I would have thrown a party for your arrival, Detective.”

The bite of her words was venomous, purposely crafted to throw him off, but he did not let it show. He still looked her in the eyes and stood his ground, until he could smell the rotting pig head she wore. “Would have appreciated it a lot more than this, Ms. Young.”

“Tell me, Detective,” Now Amanda, she was a woman of wearier disposition, broken from circumstances, but this new woman, a woman made of a pig? She thrived in the violence and the fear. That much he deducted, from the way she looked up at him, and though it was hard to see her eyes, he could almost see the fire in them. “Are you sure this is the game you want to play?”

For a moment, Tapp’s eyes fell behind her head, where Dwight had taken his hands out of the box, dripping with blood and sweat and shaking from fatigue and stress, before looking back to her. “It isn’t a game I haven’t played before. I can dance.”

 He tried to lead her some distance away from the puppet-adorned box where they leader still struggled, but the Pig was no fool, catching him by surprise in an open area with a knife to the gut, pinning him to the floor in his surprise with a wrist blade to his neck, threatening to slice it open a second time. The detective gritted his teeth, both from the pain and the strain of pushing her arm away, until he was just able to push her off of him, scrambling to his feet and blocking the entrance to the shack with the palette at the door. He took the time she was taking to break the obstacle to leave the shack, with no choice to run closer to the trap box, closer to Dwight, to a small collection of scrap metal walls, formed with another wooden palette and a window frame, which he quickly vaulted over to avoid a failed swipe.

 “Dwight!” He looked back as he ran the killer around a long wall connecting to the window, still seeing the leader digging through the box, loud beeping ever imminent. “Dwight, come on!”

The timer was so close to flatlining, and Dwight wasn’t doing too hot, panicking as he tried to find some solace in the cold metal expanse in front of him.

Tapp quickly slammed the palette down onto the killer’s head, hearing her squeal as he stood there, breath catching in his throat. “Dwight!”

He pulled his hand out of the box with a key in hand, quickly unlocking the mechanism and ripping the trap off of his head as it snapped open, surely to be his end if he’d messed up just once more. Breathing heavily, he felt along his face, blood gathering on his fingers from where the rusted teeth had dug into his cheeks, among the cuts and bruises from rummaging through the boxes to find his life. 

The detective was almost so caught up in himself that he didn’t hear the growl and the sound of the palette breaking behind him, the adrenaline kicking in to push him forward into a sprint, taking hold of Dwight again and pulling him along as the Pig gathered herself, and got back on their trail. “C’mon, time to go.”

 They were lucky to make it just in time, a failed swipe from the killer catching at their back as they ran into the fog where she couldn’t chase them. Tapp looked down, finally letting go of the younger man and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You OK?”

A breathless laugh escaped him, as he looked up to Tapp. “I- I- you- we- ...I’m alive. I’m alive!”

The detective smiled, about to say something before he was cut off from a tight hug, the younger survivor happily crying into his chest, getting snot all over the front of his vest. Tapp’s hands hovered for a moment, not entirely sure how to react, before he finally decided to just pat his back. 

“Thank you, thank you so much, thank you-”

“Hey, slow down, catch a breath.” He couldn’t help but laugh a little, though it was a lot more awkward than the few times he’d had to comfort lost kids who came into the station. Still, Dwight appreciated it regardless.

 “Well, you guys seem just fine and dandy.”

Dwight pulled himself away suddenly, looking up as he pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, as Laurie finally joined them in escaping the trial, sheepishly stepping away. “I… yeah.”

She gave the two of them a look, almost fond. “Nea said she knew where the hatch was, and while I wanted to stay to see her out here, I’m almost glad I didn’t. You’d never hear the end of it.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” Tapp chipped in, as the young woman nodded, flipping the flashlight she’d brought with her between two hands.

 The three of them returned to the campfire, Dwight and Laurie sharing a small conversation, taking care to almost dote on his face wounds from the trap he’d barely escaped from, while Tapp listened along. Dwight had almost recovered from the ordeal, though his voice still shook, and it made him think. They knew each other… or at least, he knew of the detective, of the traps, of the killings. How intimately was still up to debate, but the way he reacted in the trial told him that it was something that had deeply disturbed him. And while he’d never been much of a leader himself, but Dwight looked up to him, in the way a student did a teacher - protection, and guidance. Was it because of his attachment to the case? He didn’t deserve the title, or the treatment (he’d still failed, on the larger scale, of Dwight’s account of the public execution trap was to be believed), but if one person still believed in him despite his failures… then he had to get out, if only for that. 

 He needed to catch the Jigsaw killer, or whatever was left of them as a collective. For the sake of people just like Dwight.

[goopyartiste]

20 Questions Tag Game

thank you @meliorist-midoriya and @deephasoceanmagic for tagging me in this! it was definitely fun to do! it just took such a long time 🤧

im tagging @peach-pops @kirislut @ordinary-ace @yee-harr @spookykiri and @isanuts ! have fun with this <3

1. what do you prefer to be called name-wise?

i like Isa a lot! its what im used to, but Izzie is fine as well <3

2. when is your birthday?

its January 26! 

3. where do you live?

Miami ⛱

4. three things you are doing right now?

those three things are writings some fics (three at once 🤧), stressing out over homework, and feeling crappy about my grades 😚✌🏼

5. four fandoms that have piqued your interest.

obviously currently its been my hero and haikyuu, but the percy jackson series was and will always be my life! the last fandom would have to be the harry potter fandom, though im not as active as i used to be with it 😅

6. how has the pandemic been treating you?

this pandemic has actually been pretty good to me, other than the fact that i haven’t been able to see my irls. ive taken the time to work on hobbies and my self confidence, although im still working on that myself. if it wasnt for this pandemic, i probably wouldnt have this blog, so im thankful for that at least 😊

7. a song you can’t stop listening to right now?

ugh, there’s like ten currently 😗. my top three though would have to be “hello hello hello” by Remi Wolf, “Levitating” by Dua Lipa, and finally “Afterglow” by The Driver Era.

8. recommend a movie.

AHHHH!! if you like mystery, or even if you dont, Knifes Out is a really good one! im not one for mystery (kind of hate them 😀) but this one is just amazing. and it only gets better with rewatches!

9. how old are you?

currently 16, but my 17th birthday is coming up  (oh my god im almost an adult 😐)

10. school, university, occupation, other?

high school baby 🤪, but i hate most of the classes im taking just because they are killing me <3

11. do you prefer heat or cold?

oh definitely the cold. at least with the cold, you could layer up and look cute. even with the least amount of layers, you’d still be hot 🧍🏻‍♀️

12. name one fact others may not know about you.

i used to do tae kwon do for like two months, but then i quit 🤸🏻‍♀️. the only move i remember is actually just the roundhouse kick :’)

13. are you shy?

haha yeah <3. im really shy when you first meet me, but once i get comfortable and get to know you better, then i am chaos incarnate. at least i think i am 😐

14. preferred pronouns?

she/her works just fine for me :)

15. biggest pet peeves?

biggest pet peeve huh? if im honest i’ve never really given it much thought, but slow walkers just... they annoy me sometimes.... like i get it you want to enjoy the scenery or you just dont like walking fast, but jeez dont take up the whole sidewalk then ;-;

16. what is your favorite “dere” type?

if we are talking about types i like, then most likely a bakadere (probably because i relate to them the most 🤧), but deredere is also a close second :P

17. rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be.

definitely feel as if my life is a solid 8. ive obviously had my rough patches, but its overall been a really happy life and ive learned to enjoy it 😊

18. what’s your main blog?

@goopyartiste or this blog!

19. list your side blogs and what they’re used for.

i dont have any and im too dummy to learn how to make any 🧍🏻‍♀️

20. is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends?

well, i do tend to overshare quite a bit.. also, i am VERY chaotic once i open up and get to know someone. also, self confidence is 📉📉 half the time, so i use humor to cope with it and anything bad, though i do know when to tone it down or just not say anything.

[writingpuddle]

The foxes and Andrew reacting to Neil with a British accent?

Hey anon im p sure you sent me this like a million years agobut I found it again when going thru my asks yesterday so here goes myattempt at a bulletpoint fic:

Neil grew up in the states, sohis default accent is American, but he is ridiculouslygood at imitating. Like give him a ten second audio clip and he canextrapolate basically an entire dialect from it

The Foxes discover this aroundHalloween when watching a spooky movie and Neil goes into a perfect deadpanmockery of the Dracula character’s terrible Transylvanian accent

It becomes a thing

The Foxes will give him an accentand just set him loose

Neil is kind of surprised bytheir enthusiasm but also secretly very pleased to have found a way to amusehis Foxes

He likes making them happy so henever denies them

Except Kevin, but that is mostlybecause the team gets more amusement from watching Kevin get frustrated and trynot to show how annoyed he is over Neil being such a petty little asshole

Also they discover that if Neilputs on an Irish accent when Kevin isn’t paying attention he will absolutelyJUMP

Give him an order in an Irishaccent and he just instantly starts to follow through before he wakes up,blinking in disorientation as he realizes what he was doing

It’s funny at first, then theyrealize it’s because he associates the accent with his mother, and then itskind of sad, and then Kevin starts telling more stories about his mum and someof the few good memories he has of her, and then it gets funny again because Foxesare Foxes and they do love a good roast

Kevin complains outwardly but itsactually kind of cathartic to talk about his mother

He tells Andrew this inconfidence and Andrew just glares at him like no shit dude, you need fuckingtherapy

Anyways

That summer is going to be thesummer of the girls graduation

So they’re all determined to dosomething big to celebrate

And they get it in their heads todo a Eurotrip

Neil isn’t really payingattention at first because he’s more concerned about whether Andrew will bewilling to do a transatlantic flight

(Andrew is obviously going tocome. Flights suck, but there is no way he can cope with his whole family beingthat far away. He does not feel the need to explain this. It should beobvious.)

That’s when the Foxes pause, alldevious.

They’ve been plotting

“So, Neil,” Allison says. “At what point are you going to introduce usto your British uncle?”

Neil does not see where this isgoing

In fact he is largely baffled bythe suggestion.

“You realize my uncle is agangster, right? Like, literally a crime boss. Possibly the most dangerousperson in Britain.”

“Mm-hmmmmm.”

Neil is ???

“But he saved you Neil,” Nicky says emphatically. “We need to thank him.”

“Uh, kind of by accident, butyeah, technically.”

“You should call him. Just toask. You know, at least give the guy some warning that you’ll be in the area.”

Neil is still kinda confused butokay, fine.

Now here’s the thing

The Foxes have heard any numberof accents from Neil by this point

Including a magnificent Godfatherimitation

And probably half a dozendifferent British ones

But those were always for the laughs

He always picked a terribleaccent or would mock the living hell out of a posh one

Neil isn’t used to being thefunny one so he’s trying his best okay

And it’s fun and all but Neil can’tbe seductive to save his life

Even if you made him speak theFrench, the language of love itself,he’d just sound like he’s talking about the next game because he has zeroflirtability

Face it his and Andrew’sflirting sounds kind of like death threats to outsiders

They deserve each other

SO the Foxes convince Neil tocall up his uncle and they huddle around the phone

Only to be utterly disappointed

Neil talks with Stuart for all ofa minute and a half, just normal voice

He hangs up and tells them thatStuart will meet them in London in May and that they’re going to get him inshit with the FBI for this

The Foxes retreat, mutteringmutinously

Andrew is well aware of what’sgoing on, but it’s halfway amusing so he doesn’t say anything

As the months pass the Foxesbecome increasingly desperate in their attempts to make Neil say something sexy

They make him quote movies, TVshows, read out flirty text messages

One memorable time they even gethim to read out a page from Fifty Shades of Grey in a stuck-up British accent

They almost die laughing

It’s like a fucking superpower

Neil can say absolutely anythingand make it come across totally non-sexual

The Foxes have pretty much givenup by the time the summer trip comes around

Neil spends the plane ridepretending not to fuss over Andrew so by the time he arrives he’s totallyexhausted

And here is what he didn’texpect:

He is totally used to listeningto the local accents and then blending in naturally

It’s very disorienting beingamong the Foxes and their various Americanism, but hearing British accents allaround him

And his instincts are snarled upin knots

Plus he’s fucking tired

So he keeps slipping

First it happens when they passthrough customs, just a little lilt to his voice to put the officer at ease

But then it keeps happening

Stuart sends a couple cars topick them up and take them to this massive place he owns right in centralLondon

Being a crimeboss comes withcertain perks okay

Neil slips up again when he’stalking to the driver, his accent washing back and forth

Everyone else isn’t really payingattention because as excited as they are about Neil’s accent they’re in London and they’re all exhausted and fora lot of them it’s the first time they’ve been outside of the States, ever

Andrew notices

But he doesn’t say anything

They get to the apartment andfind a note there from Stuart saying he’ll pick them up tomorrow for a tour

Everyone splits off into theirrooms to sleep

Neil falls into bed exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come

And Andrew knows this but is tooexhausted himself from the stress of flying to deal with it right away

So he just wraps an arm aroundNeil’s stomach and holds him there as he drifts off

And it’s not enough for Neil toreally relax but it’s enough to make him feel grounded

The next morning Stuart shows upand everyone blinks at him bleary eyed and suspicious

But he’s charming and most ofthem find it kinda disarming

Which is how the Foxes end up takingwhat is probably the most expensive tour they’ve ever had (Allison excepted),lead entirely by a crime boss

Neil is lagging behind a bit buteveryone is so caught up in it that they don’t really notice

Except Andrew

That boy is always attuned to Neil

So he drops back with him andthey have a brief intense staring contest which ends in Neil looking away

They’re standing in Trafalgarsquare watching some street performers so no one is listening

Neil is obviously chewing onsomething and Andrew waits him out

He would wait forever

Finally, Neil just says, “I’vebeen here before.”

Which isn’t much but Andrew’smemory has never failed him before

I couldn’t live there again. I couldn’t retrace my steps to any ofthose places

Andrew knows what its like to feelsick at things that other people would love

So he nods and stands next toNeil the whole day

Not quite touching but closeenough that they can feel each others gravity

At the end of the day Stuart andNeil have a very cordial goodbye and then Stuart leaves them back at theapartment

Everyone is gushing about how charismatiche is and Neil doesn’t bother to correct them

His uncle has always been a bitof a snake-charmer but at least he knows he’ll never hurt his Foxes

They’ve still got a few days inLondon and Stuart’s secured them tickets to an underground dungeon tour thingthat usually has months worth of waiting list

Neil’s a little leery of goinginto a dark underground space, but with his Foxes there he’s sure he’ll beFine™

The team breaks out drinks aftersupper but Neil doesn’t have the energy

(Honestly according to thistimeline they’ve been in London for twenty-four hours they should be jet-laggedto hell and back, but w/e)

So he retires to their room andAndrew follows him like he always will

He sits next to Neil on the bedand waits

God there’s so much fuckingpointed silence between these two dear lord guys learn to communicate

Eventually Neil sighs. “I thoughtit would be okay. With all of them here.”

Andrew mulls that over

He doesn’t know how to admit thatit bothers him too. Seeing Neil reverting back to old habits, trying to blendin like its second nature

But he knows Neil is here to stayso he just slips a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and tugs him in untiltheir foreheads touch, breathing in the same air

Gradually the tension eases outof Neil

“We can go home,” Andrew says

“No,” Neil says. “I want to stay.I want to learn how to…do all of this, as Neil.”

Andrew squeezes the back of hisneck one more time. “Okay.”

It’s a silent promise, one he’sbeen keeping for over a year now: that any time Neil drifts too far, Andrewwill keep him anchored.

Neil knows it and he can’t helpbut smile a little, watching Andrew’s hazel eyes disappear into the shadowbetween their faces.

“Yes or no?” he asks

Andrew draws back a little

“You’ve been dissociating allday.”

“I’m here now.”

Andrew scowls and let’s go ofhim, standing up to go dig out his pajamas from his luggage

Neil flops down on the bed andadmires the view while Andrew changes

(That’s a nice thing. Andrewbeing comfortable enough to change in front of him. Sure, he’s always partiallychanged out in the locker room, but in private it’s different. It’s more. And Andrew is willing to give thatto Neil.)

(It’s very nice.)

“Staring,” Andrew grunts

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.”

Neil sits up again and tugs onthe front of Andrew’s shirt until he gives in and steps up close, betweenNeil’s legs

His hands go to Neil’s sideswithout conscious decision

“Nicky wants the genuine Europeexperience,” Neil murmurs, toying with Andrew’s hem. He still hasn’t been givenpermission to touch, so he doesn’t. “We’re going to be staying in hostels.Might be the last time we have a room to ourselves.”

Andrew bites down on a thousandimpulses, reflexes to shut Neil down, cuthim out

Instead he just kisses Neil, goodand slow, a reassurance that they’re there,they’re real, and that this isn’t going away

“Andrew—”

“Yes,” he says, and pushes Neilback onto the bed.

You know what happens next

They love each other deeply andprofoundly and all that but they also like each other’s butts ya know

So afterwards they get cleaned upand curl back up in bed to sleep

Andrew climbs over Neil andnearly knees him in the balls and Neil’s laughing a little and Andrew scowls inannoyance as Neil scoots closer

And with the most obnoxious chav accent that’s ever been heard says, “Any chance a bloke could get a bit of a snog before bed?”

It is quite possibly the worstthing Neil has ever said and Andrew does not hesitate in slapping a pillow overhis face to try and smother him

Neil is laughing his ass off andit devolves into some pretty stupid wrestling before Andrew gets Neil pinneddown, straddling his hips

“Bloody wanker,” Neil says, unable to contain his grin

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew says,and kisses him so that he does.

[tossertozier]

you mentioned possibly doing a ben or mike writing guide.. would you.. be willing to post a mike one. i'm plotting a fic and im struggling to get my mans down?? also i think abt ur fics weekly bare minimum.

hi there!!! i did my best. i tried to not sound preachy or like a know it all bc y’all know i can barely write. i hope this is helpful in some way!! disclaimer of of course this is all just my opinion & there’s no wrong way to write, you’re the only person who can tell your story!!

[[MORE]]

i think the first really important decision you have to make as Person Writing Mike is his

family & background

-are both of his parents alive?

-if yes, what’s their relationship like?

-if no, who’s his primary caretaker? what’s their relationship like?

-if no, when did they die? did he cope well with it? what’s his relationship with their memory like?

these are really really where you gotta start to write mike imo. or any character! i think one thing stephen king is to be admired for is he doesn’t neglect the parent-child relationship as so many people who write youth do. your parents are the most important people in your life for a long time. i don’t think there’s a wrong or ooc way to answer the above questions tbh. canon has really left a wide open field for you to run amuck in.

(example: i’ve mentioned in the past that my & tfat mike being a small adult is no mistake and intentional. it’s a bit of a throwaway scene, but i mention in on pointe that mike’s parents are coming. it’s intentionally done there too. mike is goofier, more outgoing, more immature in general in that fic in the small bits he’s in & that’s all a response to his familial life. )

culture + friendships

after you answer those questions, important follow up questions are:

-are the losers his first set of friends?

-how much social exposure has he had?

-has he dated? who is he attracted to?

-who influences him? (celebrities, family, culturally)

-what are his cultural interests? what does he do in his free time? how would that impact how he interacts with the rest of the world?

again, no wrong way to answer these. i’ve seen a super broad spectrum of indirect answers to these questions. even thinking about where he might pick up patterns of speech can make him feel much more like a realized character. i’ve noticed some people dip fully into aave to an extent that doesn’t even seem logical in their character’s current situation & it can really seem like a caricature, but i think to write mike without any sense of aave at all is a little ?? too. just be cognizant of it is my only real advice here. it doesn’t so much matter as long as you don’t forget who mike is which next point

humor & personality

-what do you think he would find (shows, comedians, youtube videos) really funny?

-does he have something he quotes often? something he started saying ironically but never stopped?

man i know i’m all there’s no wrong way to write mike !! in this post but i will say real quick that i think mike is funny and i don’t really respect depictions of him where he’s not. i think this is where the movies really just fucked up. book mike drops some of the funniest lines of the book. and honest to god tip is to write out a scene as you feel the urge too, look away for five minutes, look back and give half of richie’s lines away. (or... dialogue.) this sounds like a joke but it was what i did when i first started writing & tfat

i’d always be like “n the funny part goes... to richie.” and thats a fandom inclination too. nooooo. avoid this trap. it doesn’t even make sense. have u ever been in a friend group where only one person... makes jokes? that’d be genuinely so weird. especially bc if you give the joke away to someone else, you can also build on it. amazing things start happening when u start thinking of the characters in flexible patterns. like for example, i almost always give absurdist humor to stan now. wholesome to ben.

mike’s humor is largely situational to me. solid comedic timing & he’s an observant person. sometimes i read back my own writing & have to change the pov bc richies making jokes about things he would never ever notice to make fun of. mike would. mike genuinely sees all. i think he’s just got one of the most analytical brain of the losers. & i think intelligence is subjective and people are smart in different ways but i think it’s foolish to write him as anything other than incredibly intelligent both academically and emotionally. he’s just a natural observer and pattern notice-er. which brings me to my next mike thing:

love & selflessness

i think the biggest part of mike being harder to flesh into a fully realized person is the fandom tendency to make him kind and nothing else. here’s mike. he’s nice. next. bc the book kind of points out his selflessness in his decisions and it makes itself one of his strongest character traits.

especially bc nice seems to trump him having any other emotions. ...no?

i believe in general, but ESPECIALLY in the case of mike, that kindness is a choice. it’s one i genuinely believe he’d make, over & over again. but a choice he makes. he gets annoyed with his friends being annoying like anyone else would. he gets hurt when he feels left out. he feels tired & anxious & hungry and all those other human things. sometimes he might not let it show outwardly, but there’s a difference between that and not giving him feelings at all.

people are selfish. it’s a defense mechanism. it’s to protect us. it’s not a bad thing. we think of how the world impacts ourselves first. we don’t always act upon those thoughts or voice them, but don’t forget to let mike have them. he doesn’t need to be happy for his friends all the time, or rooting for them or supportive. he should have his own things going on.

also. mike’s not a doormat. yes, he stays in derry. but those were life-death consequences for generations of children. it’s really not comparable to almost any decision mike would make in a pennywise free universe. yes, he made a sacrifice in the book but i don’t think he’d just lay himself down in any given universe to whatever fate wants to hand him. but this is where i end this topic bc i’m actually only barely beginning to get to this topic in my own fic!

it’s hard writing the losers young sometimes bc i do feel relationships are naturally a little unbalanced based on basic maturity levels as young people. sometimes friendships just are unbalanced bc of who people are at that time. everyone involved can still be good people in these relationships. it’s about growing together and learning how to be good friends to each other.

for example, in &tfat: certain losers are always checking in with others. others are really wrapped up in their own shit and don’t really notice what bothers the others. it would probably take a chart the size of a textbook to explain how i think this dynamic wholly pans out in full. and yeah, i think it grates on mike a little bit that he is always the checker and never the checkee.

but even when mike snaps, even when he gets upset, i always write it coming out of him with a lot of love. i genuinely think mike, regardless of experience in that fic, has the deepest understanding of love as its own concept and an understand of how exactly it rules his life and and his relationships. mike knows to feel strongly about something he has to care about it. there are lots of things he just doesn’t care about. in the book it’s stated he’s difficult to connect with as an adult. he’s distant. he’s focused on what he wants to focus on. i think mike is actually the most interesting when he becomes a little bit of a disaster man with very little time for what doesn’t interest him.

which last thing, dislikes & disinterests

-what annoys him?

-what makes him genuinely angry?

-what bores him to tears?

i always make jokes that i bring up the nastier parts of the losers bc i love nasty boys but thinking of things people don’t like is as much a part of them as the things they do.

for example, in &tfat, i write richie as making fun of “nerdy” things like anything you could find at comic con. i write bev as not giving a fuck about sports. bill doesn’t care about richie’s music tastes. eddie hates getting condescended to.

bc of the ... kind thing, mike’s one of the harder losers to do this with. i genuinely think mike would listen to any of his friends tell him about anything. & he knows, in return, they can’t say shit when he wants to ramble about history. but dislikes can also be super situational.

again, for example in & tfat: mike doesn’t like when his friends talk about college right now. no one is really being sensitive to him at all. he hates getting blamed for stuff that isn’t his fault, mostly bc it keeps happening.

anyway. i based a lot of my mike (mostly sense of humor and personality) off of a mix of real life friends of mine. it’s a luxury. i know. i’ve been blessed to have friends from literally all walks of life & for me borrowing little habits & quirks & sayings & jokes to slip into my fics and characters is my way of writing one massive love letter to those ive known. i hope i’ve helped you in some way anon. n if not.... don’t be sad i’m hardly one to take writing advice from anyway jandjxjx

overall, as i used to do often, i’d genuinely stop myself and say: is this a person, or a convenience for the plot? and if it was the latter, sigh, and get my backspace key ready.

[ladybugsfanfics]

One “Wrong” Turn | Peter Parker & Stephen Strange

Pairing: none, just the spiderling and the sorcerer bonding ^_^

Style: One Shot (might write more later??)

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: mention of a very sad death :((((

Summary: @lifeonthesideoftheangels​ said: “Ok but now that Tony’s gone, until it’s proven otherwise its cannon to me that Peter just casually hangs out at the sanctorum after class and Strange pretends to be annoyed at first but secretly enjoys having him around and starts teaching him everything he knows. #also Wong constantly comes in to Peter just hanging upside down from the rafters reading one of the ancient books and Strange levitating and is like “yo I’m about to go get dinner, you guys want anything?”” - og post

A/N: so this took longer than expected but also i love this duo and i might write more later but im not sure yet. hope you enjoy ^_^

if you want to be tagged in future fics, please send an ask ^_^

| My Masterlist |

Peter never intended to take a wrong turn, or a right depending on how you see it. That first time, he just walked with that lump in his gut that had been lingering for forever. He walked, choked up because it had been his first day back to school and all everyone could talk about was the blip (seriously why is it called that?). And all Peter could do was try not to choke up, try not to let the tears run as he heard Tony’s name.

When the bell rang and they were free to go, Peter didn’t hesitate to get out of there. But instead of the usual survey of the neighborhood and trying to find a way to impress… well, the person he wanted to impress wasn’t there anymore. 

So, he wandered. First, he went the usual way home, but he took a turn sometime before the apartment and wandered straight. Exactly why he walked so long, he didn’t know. Where he ended was in no way on the way home, and checking his clock, he had walked longer than he thought. 

The building he stood in front of was big, three floors tall. Windows lined the orange brick walls, but they were impossible to see through. And the only reason he knew he was at the right place was the giant circular window at the top of the building. Brown lines in the glass created something that hinted to an H but with two strikes through the bottom. Peter wasn’t sure what exactly the symbol was for, but he hadn’t talked much with Mr. Strange to know either. 

With a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Or, he tried to knock, but instead the door opened and he kind of stumbled in trying to regain his balance. The first thing he saw was a set of stairs, and down those stairs, levitated Mr. Strange. Peter gulped at the sight, seeing as the man probably did not want him there. 

“Mr. Parker,” he said, “what may I help you with?” 

Peter shook his head. “Uhh, Mr. Strange, I―”

“Doctor Strange.”

Peter frowned and the sorcerer gestured for him to continue. “Uh, I just walked, like real far, and I’m not sure why I came here but I… I don’t want to go home.” 

“And therefore you came here?” The man raised a brow, but Peter still couldn’t read more of his expression. “I guess this is a hard time for you. May I offer something to drink?”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to intrude, but…”

Doctor Strange shook his head. “Today, only.” He turned around. “Follow me.”

Peter happily obliged. 

At the top of the stairs, Strange took a right and Peter followed after as fast as he could. The hallway ended in a kind of common room area, where Peter stopped, unsure of what to do. And only sat down as Strange told him to. 

“I’m not gonna be a therapist, I’m more of a surgeon actually, but do you need to talk to someone?” 

Something cool to the touch appeared in Peter’s hands. He looked down to find a coke in his hands, and he glanced weirdly up at Strange. 

“Would you like something else?” the man asked. 

Peter shook his head. “No, no, this is nice. Thank you.” He took a sip, only to down the entire bottle as he underestimated how dry his throat really was. In fact, he should’ve drank water, but he didn’t want to say anything. As he put down the bottle, it refilled and his eyes drifted wide-eyed between the bottle and the Sorcerer in front of him. 

The sorcerer clapped his hands. “Now, please feel free to do homework here, and leave me to do my own work.” 

“I don’t have any homework yet. It was the first day of school today.” 

Strange sighed and shook his head. “Well, you can still leave me to do my own work.” And then the male disappeared. 

---

How long Peter sat there, bored and staring into nothingness, he wasn’t sure, but eventually, he decided to explore a little. He found that the floor he was on was mainly living room space. There were bedrooms, more than one kitchen, or there might only be one but he got confused, and the common area he had been in. At some point, he found a set of stairs that took him into the third floor. 

It was here his curiosity spiked. Everywhere around him, there were bookcases filled to the rim with books. Most didn’t really gain his attention as they were all rather dusty and old, but he figured they were probably all interesting if you wanted to learn. He walked around, and a lot of the things there did not look like magical artifacts, but he suspected they were. 

Most looked like everyday things, like the radio that got his attention. It looked rather old, but maybe it worked. He was about to put his finger to it, when a voice echoed in the room, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Peter whipped around to find Strange levitating a few meters away, a book in his hand and a quick glance up at Peter. “Does it work?” asked Peter. 

“Well, if by work you mean it will kill you after one touch, yes. If you mean that it works like a radio, no.” 

Eyes wide, Peter turned back to it once more. “Really, it kills at one touch?” he asked. 

“I wouldn’t try if I were you, but yes, it should.” Strange let out a chuckle behind him. 

Peter nodded. His feet padded over to the next thing that caught his attention; The massive circular window with the double striked H. He turned to look at Strange. “What does this mean?” 

The man levitated over to where he stood. “It is called the Seal of the Vishanti,” he replied, “or the ‘Window of the Worlds’. I wouldn’t expect you to know, but the Vishanti are three god-like Principalities who each exist in their own realm. The Omnipotent Oshtur, Hoary Hogarth and Agamotto the All-Seeing. Together they act as one to empower the magical spells of sorcerers, throughout realities and dimensions, who invoke them. It also protects the Sanctum from a series of threats.”

“Oh, that’s so cool,” said Peter and studied the Seal further. “Are there other cool things here?”

Doctor Strange smiled fondly. “Plenty.”

---

The Sanctum bathes in sunlight that filters in through the windows. Silence has taken over the room, only broken when a page turns or a sigh can be heard. 

Peter hangs from the rafters, sticking to them upside down and turning the pages of one of the books Strange allowed him to touch. He doesn’t understand half of the words he sees, but the pictures are fascinating and he wishes he did. 

He would ask, if it weren’t for the fact that the sorcerer with the answers is levitating across the room, eyes closed and doing something that looks like meditation. As Strange gotten cozy as that, he’d given Peter a very sure stare of ‘do-not-disturb’. Of course, the man had also said to be left alone for at least an hour. 

However, that hour isn’t up yet and Peter has been going through the same book for so long he’s getting kind of bored. He closes the book again, as carefully as he can, and drops down a little to place it on the table underneath him. The thud it makes as it hits the table has him glance to the levitating man, but it elicits no reaction. 

With a sigh of relief, Peter moves around. He knows not to touch anything (or he knows he might die if he does), so he only studies them from afar. But nothing fascinates him long enough to keep his attention, and there are only so many artifacts in the room. Nor does it help that none of them have a description plaque as they do in museum. 

Peter slings around a little more, careful to not use big movements and accidentally knocking something down. Though the thought does cross his mind as the minutes tick by increasingly slower. 

His hazel eyes skim the titles of the books. Nearly every title reads as Book of something. Book of Fire, Book of Demonicus, Book of Shataki, Book of the Vishanti. He finds the fact there there exists something called the Necronomicon (which he thinks has to do about necromancy) highly interesting. Also, The Scroll of Eternity sounds like something he would like to read, though he has no idea exactly how to. 

In the end, as Peter gets to impatient, he gingerly―with a glance to the sorcerer whose eyes are still closed―takes the Book of the Vishanti from the bookcase. After hearing more about the three deities behind the Seal, he wants to know more. Surely, Strange can’t find his interest bad, maybe annoying, maybe a little concerning, but definitely not bad.

Back in the rafters, Peter lets his fingers run along the edge of the book. It feels ancient; rough binding that’s probably only so because it’s old; worn back; papers half sticking out, darkened by the years it’s existed. The cover has the Seal of the Vishanti on the front. It pokes out, feels metallic and cold under Peter’s fingers. 

Opened, the book seems to grow in size, heavier under Peter’s touch. The pages of the book aren’t as worn as they looked before he opened it. A light brown, resembling a coffee stain, creeps its way in from the edges, and the paper itself is a darker, less white shade. On the front page, the Seal of Vishanti greets him again, almost weighing him down. 

Peter placed the book into the middle of his left palm, making sure it’s balanced well so he doesn’t lose it―that would be catastrophical. With his right hand, he turns the pages. Nothing interesting at the first few, much like the usual books he reads. 

Turning the pages, he doesn’t actually seem to understand anything of this book either. He notes some of the words, tries his best to understand them together, but the context makes no sense. To him, it’s just a bundle of words. 

But he does find it entertaining. Making no sense, the book itself just become some lame joke. And Peter laughs, in a way he sees as ‘quietly’. 

Understandably, it is not that quiet. Strange, where he levitates―his hour has to be up soon, right?―peeks open an eye and glances at the smiling spiderling hanging upside down on the ceiling. Peter’s senses tingle to the onlooking eye and he turns to look at the sorcerer. 

“Which book?” comes the deep voice from across the room. 

Peter holds a finger where he is and shows Strange the cover. The Seal being easily recognizable, Strange smiles slightly, which has Peter frown. 

“Good choice,” the doctor says, “but you have no idea what it means, do you?”

He shakes his head. “No, uhh, it’s funny, though.” 

Strange nods, and―Peter is not sure how because the movement doesn’t really exist―levitates to where Peter hangs. “I believe that.” He takes the book from Peter’s hands. With slender fingers, he files through the pages and lands on one in the far back―did the book just gain pages? 

“Here, this should amuse you.” Strange hands Peter he book, a finger pointing to one of the passages. 

Peter takes it. His eyes land where Strange’s finger points. The lines look rather blurry, the pages far more worn here than at the start―odd. He reads one sentence, a smile on his face, and then the next. 

But he only gets halfway through before footsteps are heard. Both Peter and Strange shoot their heads up and look at Wong as he enters the Sanctum. The man raises a brow at the two, both high up in the ceiling instead of the many chairs they could have taken. 

The bewilderment doesn’t last long. “Yo, I’m about to go get dinner, you guys want anything?” Wong asks, his eyes glancing between Peter and Strange. 

Peter’s eyes widen and he nods frantically, nearly dropping the book―thank god for quick reflexes. “Yeah, I’m starving,” he replies, “what’re you getting?”

“Thinking pizza, just to make it easy.”

Water fills Peter’s mouth as he thinks about the many good pizzas it’s possible to eat in New York city. He nods, even more frantically than before. “I would like three, thank you,” he says. 

Both Strange and Wong frown at him. “Three slices?” they ask. 

Peter shakes his head. “Three pizzas.” 

Despite that being a lot of food for one person, the two sorcerers only shrug and nod. Wong looks to Strange, “and you?”

The man takes a deep breath. “Sounds good.”

Now it’s Peter’s and Wong’s turn to stare quizzically at Strange, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Wong shakes his head and rolls his eyes in Peter’s direction, making the teenager try to hide a smile. 

“I’ll be back soon.”

Peter wishes it’ll be here now. There are two sorcerers in this building, can’t they just magic the pizza?

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

[greensleevesredlipstick]

i dreamed a dream

fic based on this ask where they're in the school play les mis together. howard is cosette, boleyn is fantine, parr is eponine, cleves is madame thenardier, aragon is sister simplicity, and jane is the stage manager/director (im not a theater person whatsoever so im not gonna lie, idk the difference). hope u all enjoy!!! any other fic prompts feel free to send :)

jane arrived to the auditorium first. it was their first show after an exhausting tech week, but she was excited to see the cast and crew’s hard work pay off. the long days, nights they had to order pizza to the school instead of getting home cooked meals, and early mornings, would all be worth it. It was her senior year and the drama teacher, Mr. Tudor, was finally letting her make her directorial debut. as the others trickled in, Jane greeted them nervously. the crew was in place, making sure the lighting was just right. she saw most of the cast in their dressing rooms getting ready but when she did a headcount, she noticed that one was missing. catherine aragon, a sophomore, said “pretty sure it’s anne who’s late. again”. Jane caught her tone of annoyance, but didn’t have time to dissect it. she had to make sure that everything else was in order. as she crossed the hall to the other changing room, anne nearly ran her over. out of breath, she started to apologize to Jane. Jane had to laugh; they had been in shows together since Anne was a freshman and she was a sophomore and she could count the occasions anne was on time on one hand. she pushed her friend into the dressing room warning her that she “better be dressed in time, or else” and tried her best to be menacing. Anne laughed, and Jane continued on to the next room. As she walked away, she mused over the contrast between anne and her character. she was able to flip the switch from anne the chaotic teenager to fantine the heartbroken mother in an instant. she wondered where inside Anne that emotion came from, and resolved to have at least one heart to heart with her friends in the future. in the meantime, she had work to do. 

 When she pushed on the door to the second dressing room, she found that it was locked. She frowned. none of the doors were supposed to be locked; there were people coming and going constantly. she jiggled the handle, but it refused to give way. she heard the voice of anna cleves, a junior who had only joined drama club that year. anna said nervously “give us a minute, please”. annoyed, Jane responded “look, I guess you don’t know how things work around here but-”. the door swung open and anna swiftly pulled her inside. jane quickly caught sight of katherine howard, one of the leads, crying in the corner of the room. she was only a sophomore and Mr. Tudor had doubted her ability, but jane had insisted on casting her as cosette. Jane had gotten to know the young girl, and had been blown away by her talent and poise-which is why she was so confused as she watched anna wrap her arms around the younger girl as she sobbed. she locked the door behind her and said softly, “what’s wrong, Kat?”. Katherine took a shaky breathe and said “it’s nothing, please don’t worry about me. I know how busy you are.” Over her girlfriend’s shoulder, Anna mouthed “stage fright”. Jane said “honey, let me do the worrying. everyone gets nervous sometimes, its only natural. you have nothing to be ashamed of”. Kat choked out “I’m 16, for gods sake. people get stage fright when they’re in like, fifth grade. not one of the leads in high school. whatever, I’ll be fine. just leave me alone. Actually Anna, you can go and get ready too. I’ll be fine”. Anna pulled her closer and said firmly “i’m not going anywhere” and Jane added “me neither. tell us what’s going on. you’ve been in shows before, haven't you?”. there was a long pause. finally Kat said “yea, I have. but this one feels different. I know that Mr. Tudor didn’t want me here, and I think some of the upperclassmen are mad at me for taking the lead from them. I can’t go on stage and then mess up and prove them right because they’ll all laugh and then I just don’t know what I would do”. katherine was breathing heavily. “shhhhh, it’s okay babe.” said Anna, rocking her girlfriend.  Jane jumped in “hey, I have a lot of pressure on me, too. I knew that you were up to the role or I would have given it to someone else. You’re the most talented, powerful, graceful performer that i’ve seen. Don’t worry about proving the rest of them wrong, go out there and prove me right”. She gave Katherine’s arm a squeeze. Just then, there was a banging on the door. “Can someone let me in please???” Jane recognized Anne’s voice. “I kind of uh...can’t find my costume. Is it in there??” kat let out a little laugh. “i’ll be fine, really. Jane, you definitely have other things to be doing.” Jane glanced at Anna and said “well actually...” anna said “i’ve got this. go.” with one more concerned glance at Kat, Jane left to help Anne (and get the rest of the 50+ cast and crew together). Alone again in the room, Kat and Anna put their foreheads together. Katherine’s breath slowly returned to normal, but she still looked pale. Katherine finally brought her eyes up to meet Anna’s. Anna said simply “I believe in you, babe. pretend you’re singing just in the shower, and you’ll blow them all away”. Katherine exhaled, and they slowly started to get ready together.

in the wings, catherine parr and aragon ran through their lines together. although parr was a senior and aragon was only a sophomore, they had become fast friends during rehearsals. parr often tutored aragon in the courses she had already taken, and aragon repayed her with ice cream from her dad’s store. they looked out into the audience and were filled with nervous anticipation at the size of the crowd. they scurried backstage to put the finishing touches on their costume, whispering to the others about the full house. as the curtain rose and the opening notes to “look down” all of Jane and the rest of the cast/crew’s work fell into place. 

For Katherine, the show was a blur. she saw bits and pieces; the melody of “heart full of love”, the red white and blue of the waving flags, and the roar of the crowd. when they took their final bow, she grabbed anna’s hand extra tight. she squeezed, and anna squeezed back. as the cast headed off stage, boleyn scurried off to her locker down the hallway. as Jane stepped on stage to take her bow, anne proudly presented her with a bouquet of flowers. she beamed as she listened to the crowd roar for one of her closest friends. once the cast finally changed out of their costumes and seen their friends and family, Anne announced “POST GAME AT MY HOUSE!!!”. the group cheered loudly, but groaned when Jane said “we’re back here at 11AM, so I don’t want to hear about anything too crazy”. Cleves chimed in “you won’t have to hear about it, you’re coming.” “that's right” parr declared. “you’re with us”. They piled into the senior’s cars and headed to Anne’s house, thrilled with how the show had gone.

Jane, ever the responsible one, spoke to each of the drivers and made sure that they weren’t drinking. parr and her were both designated drivers, but they still joined in the fun. anne was predictably the life of the party, climbing on top of her kitchen counter and belting out the lyrics to chicago’s “cell block tango”. Aragon rolled her eyes at boleyn’s rowdiness, but didn’t let that stop her from dancing with the rest of them. after a drink or two, Jane even spotted boleyn and aragon doing their synchronized choreography to “dancing queen”, the previous years production, together. anna and katherine danced together in the corner. anna laughed softly. new to the theatre scene, she said “only theatre kids would drink to ABBA”. they swayed together, offbeat from the rest of the cast, but they didn't care. anna pulled katherine closer and said “I’m so proud of you, babe. you nailed it, and you made me proud”. Kat added “as a plus, I didn’t ruin Jane’s night”. as they kissed, “seasons of love” began to play. they swayed together as the rest of the cast belted out “five hundred twenty five thousand...”

[fourthwingingit]

Two

Edit: tumblr didnt post my edits from my original post (like you know when you save something as a draft and go oh wait there are some errors like no header and awkward phrasing lemme fix them) so im gonna repost this eventually but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit 2: tumblr sucks and never lets me put the thing so... This is for the anon who requested a fic of touch starved clark and conner with the prompts 'nobodys ever done that to me before' and 'i just want to be held' sorry it got angstier then i ment it to.... hope you like hurt comfort

Clark hovered awkwardly outside the door to conners room. He was nervous about seeing the teen with everything between them and what he wanted to ask him.

He took a breath. Conner almost certainly knew he was there already. But that didnt matter.

Ma always said that manners matter

He knocked.

From inside came a muffled, annoyed, and clipped

"What is it clark?"

Taking that as the best invitation he was going to get he opened the door and went in.

He looked at conner. The kid was on his bed, facedown on top of the covers like an angsty teen in a movie.

Clark thought he looked too small for the position he was in. Like he was waiting for some blow that was going to take a part of him with it to land... or like it already had and he was cradling a hole

Clark shook off the disturbing thought and steeled himself. He swiftly walked to Conner's bedside, and said, eloquently,

"Well. I... you see...... uh... lois- i mean to say..... uhh"

Lord this was already going to hell in a handbasket.

Conner turned his head enough to raise one eyebrow

"What the hell was that?"

He sat down a respectful distance away (as far away as he could) and tried again

"Hmm... you see i uhh- hmm you know how uhh.... things umm. Sometimes.... uhh"

Conner slowly turned his head the rest of the way to clark, confusion now written in every line in his body. great.

Clarks back bowed fast. Like his head gained 20 pounds in a half a second, his arms planted themselves on his knees and he gave up trying... he'd try again some other day. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe lois should do it.... Kal-el you coward.

"I... i dont know, ive got nothing."

But now he was scrambling, he needed a reason for being here. And what came out was;

"Ma told me shes uhh, seen you acting in a... less than..... ideal...... kind of.... way.?"

"Wow."

"No yeah i heard it"

"That was some next level awkward," and there was some distinct venom in that voice shoot. "if its that hard to be around me then you can find the door. I certainly dont need your pity handouts anyway."

Well.... shit

"No thats not.... im.... i wanted to ask- uh... whats been bothering you..... sport."

He now had what bruces kids called The Awkward White Man Smile... great.

Suprisingly, Conner chuckled.

Maybe a small part of Clark's brain said its not hopeless?

"Right now? Your social skills."

Banter! He hung around batman! He could do banter.

"Aww man and here i was thinking i was handing out winning lines."

"Oh no, youve gone senile a little early, well... maybe not early... good thing you've got Kara."

There was a small smirk playing at conners lips and an actual opportunity. God was real and he loved Clark Kent.

"At least I know I have two good boys to pick me up after im down." He looked away fast.

Silence stretched on

.......

Awkwardly

Oh lord he messed up the moment

He presumed too much and their only friendly interaction in over a month is ruined

"Two?"

The voice Conner used was so painfully soft and small. Like it didnt dare to hope anymore and had stopped trying a long time ago.

Clark never was good at leaving voices like that alone. And he was always more comfortable when something needed doing anyways.

Superman courage steadied him enough to take a risk.

He reached out his hand, and ruffled Conner's hair, trailing his fingers down after to rest on the shoulder closest to him and said.

"I have two kids dont i?"

More silence

Conner was frozen beneath his fingertips

He panicked

Oh god

He had fucked it up

He had fucked up enough times that conner didn't want anything to do with him

Okay damage control

"That is...." Conner stiffened further "if i haven't been so horrible to my eldist that he doesnt want anything to do with me"

The silence was now so deep he could hear the dust motes brushing against everything

He heard a tiny sniffle

And then he telltale sound of tears hitting bedsheets.

His head whipped around, his glasses flew off somewhere into the room. He barely noticed.

Shocked, he started to speak but Conner cut him off before he could finish the first syllable.

"You know when i was in Hawaii i used to watch families. Specifically parents and children. I'd be so jealous of-"

Conner cut himself off.

"Nobody's ever- i mean...... parents do that to their kids.... the hair touching thing.... Nobody's ever-" his voice broke, he cleared it. "Nobody's ever even tried to touch my hair if we werent kissing."

He gave a pitiful, watery laugh and, after a breif, stunned, pause, started rambling about how "of course i get it cut, like, the barber touches it and stuff..."

And it all hit clark.

Somehow it had never occured to Clark, that even though Conner looked like he was so much older than Jon, he wasnt.

He wondered who raised him

Who fed him

Who hugged him through nightmares

Clarks heart broke

Because he was certain the answer to most of those kinds of questions was 'Conner' and none of them were "Kal-el" or "Clark Kent"

Clark turned a bit and ran his hand over Conner's back softly, cutting off his rambling and said in a voice that was somehoe warm but still felt guilty and mourning;

"What do you want? What can I do?"

Conner was stunned. Kal had never given him anything like this. So he kept talking to give his brain time to catch up.

"I don.... i- i used to watch families... in- in Hawaii, and I'd get jealous of the kids, that they got to have families. Got to have parents. I dont..."

Clark turned a little to properly face his son and grabbed his hand.

"What can i do Conner?"

One day ago Conner would have asked for a lot. To never see Kal again, the superman title, his spot in the JL, even some time with Jon. But now?

Conner shifted, he sat up as best he could. And guided Kals hand to the side of his face, through tear tracks, held it there for a second, and then slid it into his hair. All thr while leaning into it like it was the only support he needed.

"I just want to be held.... without expectations..... without titles or rules or anything in return."

Connor wouldnt meet his eyes, or look up from the bedspread during his request.

For the second time that day Clark's heart broke. But now he had something he could do.

He reached out with his other hand, guiding his son into his arms, and gently layed them down

He kept one hand on the back of Conner's head, stroking the strands there. And one hand on Conner's back slowly moving back and forth.

From the first point of contact, Conner's world narrowed to the hand Kal had put on him. And now, there was more. Now he was allowed to reach out. He wanted to get closer. To bury his face in Kals chest and curl up small. To let the world fall away around them. Until nothing existed but them. Holding each other forever.

Kal seemed to read his mind, and guided his head to tuck itself under his chin and pressed them closer together.

No promises, no strings, no obligations after.

He could leave whenever he wanted.

He wanted to stay forever.

Conner wondered breifly what was like to be held by a father. If it felt as nice as this. Like everything crashed in on him, but it was okay.

Maybe, he thought.

They had a maybe.

And this maybe was a lot of ground to stand on.

[mieczyhale]

aright

so

i've always tried to avoid anti nonsense and general fandom negativity, no matter what fandom it is, it makes things less stressful and more fun. but when i’m sitting in my dumpster and happen upon some bullshit its uhh difficult for me to not say something

so lemme fuckin tell y'all

i am not here for any anti-dave / anti-klave commentary ever. i dont want to see even a hint of it and so running into it, while reading the comments on a klave post bc i like to read other peoples love for their love, is so fucking annoying. now i guess it was partially my bad for reading comments in the first place BUT given my tua fandom experiences thus far i had no reason to expect such bullshit. so.. i was reading a short post about them staying together and then there were shitty replies and reblogs and a fight and im just like ????? with plenty of instant irritation. 

nobody - NOBODY - cares that you think klaus continuing his relationship with ghost!dave would be "unhealthy" (which.. no*) or that you want klaus to get closure and move on OR that fuck dave klaus should just get a new boyfriend. if that's how you feel make your own post, keep it in your own negative space, i dont wanna fucking see it. nor do i wanna have any interaction with you AT ALL if im being honest

*y'all really be overusing words AND y'all be doing so wildly and incorrectly. no i will not expand on that, i will not explain to you why it's wrong (at least not right now because lord knows i'll probably get drunk later and decide to word vomit my feelings about klave again)

like... okay. listen. there's enough negativity around here and enough stories where happiness doesnt last - especially for gay characters - and i just want them to be allowed to have that happiness no matter how unique or improbable the situation. if heteros can get shit like that then why cant we?? the love at first sight and soulmates and 'you're the only one for me' and the happy ending. beating all the odds to be together! if anyone deserves it it's klaus - all on his own, he's suffered enough thanks - but also with dave - he's the love of klaus's life, who treated him with all the love and kindness and respect he hadn't experienced before, who made klaus genuinely happy and who made him want to be better - not by forcing him or guilting him but by loving him like.. fuck off if you dont think that's the best otp shit

for those whose issue is the lack of dave in s1:: yeah the show may not have given us a lot of info on dave, which sucks, but cody ray thompson provided AND ALSO there's all of the fic writers in this fandom who write klave - who have fleshed dave out to be a real and deep character (god bless each and every one of you. you're doing the lord's work) enough so that there are a lot of consistencies across the board, things that stay the same from writer to writer. he's a whole real character! the shows lack of a backstory for him doesnt make dave unimportant or disposable or less valid as a love interest. especially not when the fandom got hold of him

*insert that meme 'i took the liberty of sprucing up your boy' here*

anyway.. thats kind of an off place to stop ranting but ive already wasted too much time on this, trying to get out my thoughts at all let alone in a way that sort of made sense, and now im a lil stressed and a lil sleepy lmao 

so!! my ask & messages are open to anyone who wants to come say words about anything, it doesnt have to be tua but that is a quality topic. i might defend klaus and dave like an absolute banana but i swear i dont bite

[hayleysstark]

(PT 2 of 2). I also wanted to say that, unfortunately, my Netflix account is going to be cancelled soon, so I can't watch all of Merlin. Can you recommend any must-see episodes?

Ugh, for real? That sucks, Queenie, I’m sorry. (I mean, I get it, things like Netflix are luxuries, but luxuries are nice to have around, and it’s tough to lose one, and I’m sorry that you have to.) To tell the truth, I really,,,,, don’t know if separate episodes can really stand on their own? I mean, don’t get me wrong, a solid ninety percent of the episodes are great, and absolutely worth the watch, but they all feel ((at least to me. maybe I’m alone in this)) like just scattered pieces of a whole until you put them all together into the series. But I think I can rustle up a solid handful that’ll still give you a good feel for the show as a whole ((and help you decide whether you want to continue it when you can - this series really isn’t for everyone.))

1x13: Le Morte D’Arthur: The entirety of S1 is really Merlin at its absolute best--smooth, believable dialogue, excellent comedic timing, wonderful plot structure, characterizations that are just to die for--but let’s be honest, this one, the S1 finale, is the one that takes my breath away. Colin Morgan and Anthony Head are both superb in their respective roles as the titular character and the hotheaded, short-sighted King Uther, and this episode is where they both just shine. Bradley James (Arthur) doesn’t receive a whole lot of screentime in this one, unfortunately, but there’s no denying he’s the center of the episode, and the moments we do get to see him, he’s just as incredible as the other two. The scenery is gorgeous, the worldbuilding is fantastic, and the emotion, oh, the emotion. Colin Morgan delivers some of his absolute rawest lines in this one. He knows when to play up the rage, the grief, the terror, and--I don’t say this lightly, but it’s really nothing short of flawless. Also, I’m in love with the villain. Her name is Nimeuh. I’m going to marry her someday. I am in love with that woman. she’s beautiful.

2x01: The Curse of Cornelius Sigan: This one is nothing on Le Morte D’Arthur in terms of plot, dialogue, or emotion, but damn if it isn’t the funniest fucking episode in the entire series. It’s essentially just a fun romp. The villain is so Obviously Evil, and of course no one else in Camelot SEES that he’s evil except Merlin. And Merlin??????? a petty, jealous bitch?????? yes absolutely. oh my god this one is just hilarious you would not believe. 

2x08: The Sins of the Father: Finally, an episode where we get to see the true depth of Bradley James’ talent!! Really, his performance sells the entire episode in and of itself, but this one’s got plenty more to recommend it as well. Anthony Head returns as brilliant as ever, of course, and we get introduced to yet another incredible villain. Nowhere near as fleshed-out as Nimeuh, but this lady’s definitely got spunk, and she’s just fun to watch overall. Merlin’s warring loyalties are put into conflict yet again, Arthur gives his asshole father the call-out of the century, honestly, what more could you want? And we get to see a much softer side of Arthur as well, one that almost never reappears again - which is a real shame, by the way, considering how well Bradley James does strong emotions.

2x09: The Lady of the Lake: okay this one. this one does. it doesn’t. it doesn’t need to be on the list. it really doesn’t. but Merlin gets a ladylove and it’s absolutely BEAUTIFUL and everyone can shut their mouths. the girl he falls for?? 10/10. would die for her. she is beautiful and sweet and amazing and she dOES NOT DESERVE ALL THE PAIN SHE HAS SUFFERED I LOVE HER. I WOULD TAKE A BULLET FOR HER. 

2x13: The Last Dragonlord: ahhh here we go!! This one’s the one. This one’s where it’s at. This episode has absolutely everything I initially started watching Merlin for - knights, dragons, sword fights, branches of magic no other fantasy series has yet explored, and to top it all off, Colin Morgan AGAIN goes above and beyond in his performance. I am convinced there’s nothing this man can’t do anymore. i would fight and die for the last dragonlord. both the episode and the dragonlord himself. 

3x04: Gwaine: if you take nothing else away from this series, then for fuck’s sake, remember that Gwaine is, objectively speaking, beautiful. honestly. what a bastard. what a gorgeous, gorgeous bastard.

4x01 (and 4x02): The Darkest Hour: honestly incredible. i weep. the knights are such bros and look, Arthur has feelings, and hE’S GOT A SMARMY-ASS UNCLE NNNN I HATE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK I HATE HIM HIS NAME IS LORD FUCKING AGRAVAINE AND I WILL HATE HIM UNTIL MY DYING DAY and Merlin gets whumped!! excellent, perfect, 10/10. three cheers for Merlin whump.

4x03: The Wicked Day: ohhhh gosh just a whole bundle of emotions here. Merlin is trying his best. Arthur deserves better. Gaius watches with a raise of his infamous eyebrow. Everything goes to hell. Merlin still tries his best. that’s it. that’s the whole show.

4x04: Aithusa: I SWEAR IM NOT GOING TO RECOMMEND EVERY SINGLE EPISODE OF S4 ((well maybe I am but that is because S4 is amazing and i am a GARBAGE HEAP.)) THERE ARE JUST. A LOT OF GOOD ONES. RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING. ghjhyghgb okay this one is just??? really good in general?? More dragons!! More knights being bros!!! And some serious character development on Merlin’s part like holy hell I don’t remember him having em that big in S3. this dude is getting what he wants and that is Just That.

4x06: Servant of Two Masters: okay let’s be real this one has a super intense start - in the first three minutes, Merlin is given a fatal wound, with a fucking MACE, no less - but honestly, at about the fifteen-minute mark, it just?? turns into comedy gold??? Merlin Emrys’ entire existence is a power move for forty straight minutes. he is Salty. he is Sassy. he is an absolute, stone-cold, unforgiving bitch. he takes no one’s shit. he will come for you and your family, and probably your hopes and dreams, too. he will stop at nothing. It’s somehow funnier when you stop and think about how genuinely sweet he usually is. this is just the most complete and comedic turnaround, and I love it.

4x12 (and 4x13): The Sword in the Stone: HERE’S where the myth and the series really start to collide. congratulations, only took 4 entire seasons. still kind of irritates me that the sword in the stone is Excalibur. what can you do. a lot of retellings condense. understandable but annoying as all hell. Arthur’s character arc comes to an admittedly unsatisfying end, but Tristan and Isolde make a cursory appearance, so that’s something I wasn’t expecting. Also, Merlin’s S4 character arc comes to an AMAZING head like wtf. we did not deserve that. Merlin Emrys is chaotic and vengeful. 

5x03: The Death Song of Uther Pendragon: listen,,,,,, listen,,,,,,, this one serves Literally No Purpose and Does Not Need to be on here. it doesn’t advance the plot. it doesn’t build toward anything whatsoever. it’s just really fucking hilarious. it’s Arthur and Merlin being bros. Uther is his usual bastard self. Gwen is beautiful and we do not deserve her. Sir Leon makes an appearance and is very confused. Sir Leon is extremely relatable.  

5x05: The Disir: Admittedly not my favorite, just??? not my favorite. But it really does take Merlin’s character in an absolutely stunning direction that still blows me away to this day, and it’s worth the watch just for that alone. Very dark episode though, very sad. Kind of has a “hopeless” vibe going tbh so. (May need to watch 1x08, The Beginning of the End, to get a bit of backstory for this one.)

5x08: The Hollow Queen: YOU WILL PRY THIS ONE FROM MY COLD DEAD FINGERS IT SERVES NO PURPOSE IT ADDS NOTHING TO THE PLOT BUT MERLIN GETS WHUMPED SO MUCH??? EMOTIONAL. PHYSICAL. IT’S ALL HERE. HE SUFFERS SO MUCH. IT’S GREAT. IT’S INCREDIBLE. maybe watch the two before it ((The Dark Tower and A Lesson in Vengeance)) before, though, because it’s kind of hard to understand unless you’ve got backstory lmao. 

5x10: The Kindness of Strangers: More Merlin whump on every side, but this one also gives us our first (and only) look into Merlin’s position in the magical community? We don’t get to see him interact with people like him a whole lot over the course of the series, and who he actually is, what he represents, to his kind as a whole, is often left very fuzzy. There’s just a lot of confusion surrounding it, and this episode goes a pretty long way toward clearing that up.

And of course the series finale should be on here, but ehh. not that great tbh. really dropped the ball if we’re being honest. SO. those are. all of them. not really going to give you a sense of the full scope of the series dfhffgfdfgb probably just going to confuse the hell out of you and give you a sudden, insatiable thirst for Merlin whump ((which I can sate w/ fic recs. do you want fic recs. I’ve got fic recs. so many authors love to torment this man.)

ANYWAY THOUGH. I hope this helped!!