#it was hard to come up with so many while at the same time it feels like I have 100 questions left

[trash-and-trash-accessories]

Okay this will be controversial but I actually don't think it is. I don't think there's a hard and fast line that masculinity is more acceptable than femininity period. I don't think that's true at all. It's not a universal constant the way it's so often portrayed.

I think that varies widely by culture and there have been times in history when men dressing in women's clothes was perfectly acceptable for various reasons but women transgressing their gender roles was absolutely not acceptable and they would be punished severely varying from rape to imprisonment to murder for doing so. Elagabalus comes to mind. They were running around being a whole ass transfemme emperor, while Roman women (or those assigned so) were basically chattel. With no autonomy to transgress in that way. They didn't even have the autonomy to be transgressive. Their husbands and fathers were allowed to beat them to death.

I'm going to use reductive language in this post because idk how else to talk about it in historical context.

Through the 18th century in England and the US, a woman dressed as a man would be assumed insane, a prostitute, or some combination thereof, and imprisoned. Often forcibly sterilized if she was racialized, and forcibly impregnated if she was white. Or straight up murdered. People had to fight to change that.

This was a hard-fought battle and I actually think that's hopeful for the acceptance of femininity in those assigned male. I think they can normalize that just as much. A man wearing a skirt can be just as normal as a woman wearing trousers. Although, if it were just as normal, it would have to be a masculine cut skirt and of course not for formal occasions especially if it's a conservative or religious event, of course you have to wear pants for that. And graduations (as late as 2019, many schools mandated this for graduation ceremonies.)

There has been a move towards this in the past couple decades. Men who are considered manly or at least normal now would have been called f-slurs in 2010. Or metrosexual at the least. Matt Walsh, for example. Our ideas around what men can wear have evolved a lot in that time. Thanks to men fighting to normalize femininity, often through subculture. And of course trans women too.

And we need to remember that what is "masculine" is not a universal constant, it's not even a cultural constant. It changes and evolves with society.

A man wore a skirt on the cover of Vogue. One of the most popular shows right now is Drag Race. The culture was moving towards the acceptance of male femininity before this anti-autonomy anti-feminist backlash we're currently experiencing. This progressed due to the same kinds of activism women did in fighting for their right to masculinity.

I think the assumption that masculinity is always more acceptable comes from a male perspective, which is viewed as the default perspective, and doesn't actually take into account the history and lived experience of other people outside of that "default" group. But that experience isn't universal. Other people experience different things and I do think that sexism plays no small part in the dismissal of those experiences.

I do want to note that the whole "women are allowed to dress masculine and wear trousers" thing needs to be viewed in its historical context:

People fought for generations to be allowed to dress that way. They fought hard to be allowed to wear pants. Blue jeans were a symbol of feminist revolution. Women were barred from workplaces and schools for wearing them.

This is not some a natural fact that women dressing masculine is less shocking and humiliating. That normalization was fought for and hard-won.

And yet so many people erase the struggles of those people who fought to make that happen and pretend that it's just normal and natural that people don't see women "dressed like men" as ridiculous.

The Marriage of Figaro has what's called a "breeches role" which is a woman wearing men's clothes playing am ale role. This was done partly due to the vocal range requirements, but in many cases it was done comedically. It was risque and sexualized or comic relief that a woman was dressed as a man.

Anti-suffragette posters mock women wearing pants - well they were bloomers and split skirts back then - and mocking more masculine cut styles of clothes. This was meant to portray this as ridiculous.

They mocked the "new woman" in Weimar Germany, lamenting that they were too masculine.

This is a political cartoon from the 1920s depicting a woman in masculine dress deciding which bathroom to use:

Sorry but you're erasing these struggles and flattening history when you say this shit.

Women were killed and institutionalized in the struggle to make this happen. It really fucking bothers me the way it's framed as "people just don't find it as weird when women dress masculine."

Yes they fucking did. Until women and transmasculine people fought for their right to wear what they want. It's normalized because people struggled to normalize it.

And it's not normal everywhere. There are many countries where it's still illegal for women to wear pants. Sudan, Saudi Arabia.

Even in the US, it's forbidden and considered ridiculous in groups like the FLDS, the Amish, and the Hutterites.

We are flattening and erasing the struggles of women when we say these things. I know we're trying to build theory here but you can't build solid theory on a foundation of lies.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 9 masterlist

-

Knock until something answers or until your knuckles pass straight through. 

After Gaz leaves your lab, you spend the rest of the afternoon working on your research, doing your level best to ignore the blood samples sitting in the refrigeration unit on the other side of the room. You normally wouldn’t have to wait very long before running your tests, but you do because you can’t shake the feeling that you are on the threshold of some atrocious becoming, the bloodletting preceding destruction. 

You hadn’t thought of your life up to this point as some prelapsarian time, but the fall seems imminent. 

The tedium of day gives way to the disquietude of night, when all else settles down and the ship hums itself to sleep. You skip supper and head back to your room instead, whittling away the hours with a word search book that ends with you circling the same word over and over again like you can’t find another one. You find yourself writing it even in the margins of the book. 

Alien. 

And it is a whisper quiet thought because you know that if you look at it too hard, you’ll only end up doubting yourself. Write off all of the strange occurrences happening around you as coincidence or all in your head when you know that they are not.

There’s no chance you’ll sleep with the worries weighing on your mind, so instead of trying, you slip out of your room when the ship slips into the deepest part of its night cycle.

The door to your room slides shut softly behind you. It is quiet in the hallway. 

For as many times as you’ve been in space, it’s never felt as alien as now. Perhaps because you’ve always regarded the inky darkness surrounding the ship with a careful, neutral ambivalence. Also perhaps because, consciously or not, you’ve always assumed that there was nothing else out there.

But in the days since Gaz first knocked on the porthole and asked to come inside, your perspective has shifted. 

One of the lights flickers on your wall down the main corridor and you pause for a moment to watch it flicker. It goes out entirely for a handful of seconds before coming back on.

Down the hall you go, the long isthmus between bow and stern, stopping every once in a while to examine the walls and metal flooring. You even sit on the staircase leading down from the orlop deck to the cargo hold to stare at the rusted metal grates. When you test it with your finger, the rust feels real enough. It has that rough, grainy texture, and when you pull your finger away, a faint residue transfers to the pad of your finger. 

Strange. All this time you’ve lived on the ship and yet not once have you noticed anything like this. 

The stairs aren’t rusted enough to warrant reporting it this very second, but you make a mental note to mention it to someone in the morning. 

In the cargo hold, you crouch behind a pallet stacked with crates of supplies on the far end of the hold and stare at a corner of the wall. The interior panelling has started to chip away at the bottom of the corner, chunks of it flaking off when you dig your fingers into the hole. You find more as you scan the hold, even the fire baffles on the ceiling looking a bit rusted when you squint your eyes. 

You wrack your brain for some memory of ever noticing these defects before but nothing comes to mind. 

It’s almost as if, in small, nearly imperceptible ways, the ship has been slowly starting to corrode. The materials themselves seem to be breaking down at an exponentially increasing rate, as if something were sucking the vitality from them. While you can’t deny that the ship is still as functional as the day it left Earth, the longer you stare at some of the finer details, the more things that you remember previously looking adequate enough now seem to be on the verge of decay.  

Can you trust what’s in front of you though? You press harder into the gouge in the wall with your finger, wincing when it slices through the skin and a bead of blood wells up. Can you trust what you’re looking at? 

And what does it mean if you’re right? 

The longer you stare, the more your head hurts. The bubble of blood on your fingertip swells when you press your nail into the skin beside it. 

It would be better for your sanity if you could stop questioning everything, but you can’t change what you are. You exist in accordance with your nature like all things do. 

Another time around the cargo hold before exhaustion starts getting the better of you. You won’t find anything that you haven’t already found.

The walk back to your quarters feels twice as long, winding through dimly lit corridors that echo with the sound of your footsteps. 

Your footsteps echo behind you for a beat too long, as if the ship were bigger than its true size, or as if there were someone following behind you, beat for beat except for the occasional slip.

When one rings a bit too loud, you stop and turn on your heel, staring into the darkness, waiting for something to emerge or the footsteps to keep following you down the hall. 

Apart from the ever present hum rumbling through the ship, the corridor stays quiet. You let out a breath. Everything seems menacing at this time of night. Just the mind playing tricks on itself. 

You keep walking towards your room, ignoring the way your footsteps echo behind you again, just a beat off.

In the morning, you run Gaz’s blood through the centrifuge and wait for the solid and liquid components to separate while you putter around on the other side of the room. Your coffee is cold before you manage to take your first sip. 

Nauseous from skipping breakfast, your empty stomach grumbles, hunger pangs shooting through you. Better that you don’t eat though, for fear of losing the contents of your stomach at a moment’s notice. That’s the overwhelming feeling that you’ve been carrying with you since sneaking back to your quarters early in the morning—that anything might make it all come up. 

The coffee goes down bitter and ice cold. It makes your mouth taste somewhat stale, thick on the back of your tongue no matter how many times you clear your throat and swallow. It might’ve tasted better had you lingered a bit longer in the galley to find the milk capsules, but you’d been in a hurry to rush back to the medbay, not interested in running across Gaz or anyone else.

Then the centrifuge beeps, and you realize that you can’t get up from your chair. 

It’s not that you can’t physically get up, it’s just that every molecule in your being is fighting the urge to do so. All of your anxiety is pressed right up against your sternum, gathered tight beneath your bones; a terrible sense of foreboding that accompanies everything you do these days. 

Eventually, you summon the nerve to rise to your feet and cross the room, hesitating in front of the centrifuge for only a moment before opening the lid. 

It looks normal from the outset, the liquid and solid components separated in the tube with the platelets forming a layer between the red blood cells and plasma. You carry on with removing the supernatant fluid with a pipette and transferring the liquid component into a new test tube, getting everything ready for your tests. 

Under the microscope, you look at what seem to be normal, human blood cells.  Biconcave discs; mostly red blood cells, with a stray neutrophil floating around under the topmost slide. They behave and move so normally that at first you just observe them as you might anyone else’s blood sample, checking for any abnormalities or deficiencies. 

And then, you find them. 

It isn’t easy to make sense of what you’re seeing at first, and the longer you look at it, the less sense it makes. A neutrophil with a fat nucleus swims leisurely around until it encounters a group of red blood cells. The blood cells, stained in order to make them visible, swarm and then part, behaving perfectly normal until the second they don’t. 

You can’t make sense of what you’re looking at because what you’re looking at defies sense. It almost looks like cells cannibalizing other cells, but not quite, the cells not quite consuming one another so much as amalgamating and disappearing entirely. Warping into increasingly strange shapes. 

Cells merge with other cells and then split again, trapped in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, and the only thing you can think of is a tesseract folding in on itself. You’re losing something crucial, something invisible to you—invisible because it transcends your ability to perceive it. A shape turning in a higher dimension. 

The dread builds the longer you look. Your excuses keep piling up—bad samples and lack of sleep—but they feel flimsy, even paltry in comparison to the larger suspicion that has been hounding you these past few days. 

You push your chair away from the table and back up as far as you can until it hits something behind you. Short of breath. Heart pounding in your chest, but this time it’s almost painful. You’re not strong enough to stand at first, at least not without holding onto the back of your chair. 

The medbay door glides shut behind you as you leave, slowly breaking into a run as you head down the main hall, looking for someone else to verify what you saw under the microscope. The mess and galley are empty when you check them, much to your consternation, but you find Hadir in the tiny fitness area a few minutes later, sweating through a round of overhead presses. 

“Morning,” he greets when he spots you from out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not working out in that are you?”

He’s referring, of course, to your lab coat and uniform pants, which are hardly appropriate gym wear. Your ability to joke around is nonexistent though. Hadir must register that from the look on your face though because his arms slowly come down to his sides, a sweat-drenched brow arching in question. 

“Hadir, you went to med school, right?” you ask him.

“I was in nursing school before I dropped out, but—” he corrects, only for you to cut him off before he’s able to add anything else. 

“That’s fine—I need you to look at something for me. Do you have a sec?” 

He goes quiet for a moment and then nods, racking the weights before following you out of the gym. 

The walk back to the medical unit feels like a death march, with you leading the way. Your steps echo through the hall, each one louder somehow. Deafening. The pit in your stomach is bottomless—no matter how far down you go, you keep falling. You’ve done this with Hadir before, leading him towards something that you know in your gut is wrong without the confidence to call it what it is.

The microscope is still there on the table when you walk back into the medbay. The hair on the back of your neck lifts when you lay eyes on it. 

“There.” You point towards the microscope, not taking a step towards it. 

Hadir’s eyebrows furrow. He looks over at it and then back at you. “Okay.”

He crosses the room silently and pulls up a stool, settling in before adjusting the chair and microscope for his height. A tense few seconds pass while you wait for him to adjust everything to his measurements before he leans in to look through the eyepiece.

Then all is quiet.

You don’t know how long it’ll take for him to notice what you noticed, so all you can do is wait anxiously until he does. Or until he doesn’t—another possibility that hangs over you like a guillotine’s blade. 

Hadir looks through the eyepiece for what feels like an hour, so focused on the slide in front of him that you can hardly even hear him breathe. 

“What are these?” he asks when he finally pulls away from the eyepiece, looking at you from over his shoulder. 

“Blood cells.”

“You’re sure these are only blood cells?”

“Yes.” You don’t make mistakes, especially not with a simple procedure like this. 

“These…these don’t look like blood cells.” He bends his head to look again, staring more intently this time. “I mean they do, but… Where did you get these, doc?”

“I pulled those from Gaz yesterday during his physical,” you admit quietly. 

Again Hadir pulls away from the eyepiece to look over his shoulder at you. The look on his face is inscrutable, much like his sister. You wish you could see behind it and read his thoughts somehow. If only you didn’t have to guess every time. If only his gaze didn’t make you feel so raw and vulnerable, exposed belly ripe for vivisection.

“This is Gaz’s blood?” 

“Yes.”

Another prolonged moment of silence. 

“Doc, I don’t know what this is, but this can’t be someone’s blood. I may not actually be a nurse, but I’ve seen enough blood to know what it should look like.”

“I promise you it is. I drew those yesterday and no one’s been in here since.”

Hadir rolls away from the table, turning to face you fully. “What’s your opinion then? Why’d you ask me to come look at this?”

Here’s where it gets tricky. Because coming to the conclusion that you have internally already come to is one thing, but actually putting it to words is a much more laborious task, one requiring a kind of delicacy and cunning that you have never exactly possessed. 

“I think—” you start, struggling to get the words out. “That if…that if that is inside of Gaz…we need to start having a different conversation.”

“Doc, if anything, I think maybe he’s just sick.” There it is again. That whisper of condemnation. A glimmer of suspicion so faint that you would almost doubt yourself if your mind wouldn’t stop screaming why can’t you open your eyes? Why won’t you just believe me?

“You know that’s not true,” you snap, too severe. “He’s not sick—I’m not even sure he’s a person. This is—this is beyond fucked up. Those cells aren't human.”

He just stares at you, deeply unnerved by your outburst, like his fear is stretched so thin that he can’t see it for what it is. 

“At least let me—can you at least just—” The right words keep slipping from your grasp, too slippery to catch them. “Can you—…just…I need you to just believe me this time…” You trail off completely as it gets harder and harder to breathe. 

“Hey, hey, okay, take it easy,” Hadir says soothingly, getting to his feet, his hands outstretched like he means you no harm.

He moves until he’s right in front of you, hands braced on your shoulders to centre you. Whatever his intention, it doesn’t help. 

“He’s doing something to us,” you breathe, throat so tight that your voice breaks on multiple words. 

“Doctor, he’s not doing anything to us—he just looks sick. Or there’s just something wrong with the blood sample.”

You shake your head. “No. No. Hadir, it’s not just this, it’s—it’s everything.”

“What do you mean ‘everything’?” He sounds almost baffled.

“How he got here—the tests—his smell—the way everything’s like…fucking falling apart. Even Farah promised to keep an eye on him.”

He blinks. “Farah said she’d keep an eye on Gaz?”

You know you promised to keep it between the two of you, but you can’t help blurting it out when there’s a chance it might make Hadir take you seriously. “Yes! Because she knows there’s something wrong with this. We shouldn’t have found a man out in the middle of space when there’s no one else around for millions of miles!”

And you can’t understand how no one else seems at all suspicious when every single thing about Gaz’s sudden appearance on the ship is making alarms go off in your head. It’s like you’re inhabiting a separate reality from everyone else and perceiving things that aren’t really there. Like you are being pried away from their world. 

Hadir’s hands tighten around your shoulders. “Let’s just—let’s take a breath, okay?” 

You’re reluctant to acquiesce, but the look in his eyes tells you that it’s not up for negotiation. He leads you through a simple breathing exercise. Four seconds in, hold for seven, and then exhale for eight. You repeat it until the room stops swimming. 

“We both agree that there’s something wrong with those samples,” Hadir finally says, trying to reassure you. “I’m on your side, okay, doc?” You nod, swallowing. “Why don’t you just redo the test then?”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” you whisper. 

“I know, but things happen, right? Maybe the lid wasn’t sealed properly or you didn’t swab Gaz’s arm before taking his blood—”

“I did swab his arm,” you object, but your throat is too tight and the words come out too soft to make an impact. Hadir breezes past like you didn’t say anything. 

“The point is—it’s not your fault. It’s completely normal to make mistakes. Just destroy these samples and ask him to come back so you can take new ones. I can even help if you want—I’ll be your second pair of eyes.”

You want to protest. You want to take Hadir by the shoulders and shake him until he admits that what’s in front of his eyes is actually there—that you can’t keep pretending like everything’s normal. It would be a pointless battle though. He simply doesn’t believe you. 

The worst part is that you’re grateful that at least your eyes haven’t failed you. At least Hadir saw what you saw, his own conclusions aside. At least you have that reassurance, despite how hopeless everything else feels. 

You take a step back, his hands falling from your shoulders. “Fine. I’ll get a new blood sample and run the tests again.”

“Doc—”

“No,” you cut him off, forcing a tight smile. “It’s fine. You’re right. I’ll let you know when I have Gaz come in again and we can look at the new sample together. Sorry to pull you from your workout.”

Hadir’s lips flatten as he stares at you, searching for something to say that never materializes. Maybe he sees the pointless battle in your eyes as well. 

“Okay…ping me when you do,” he says, letting it go. “Remember, I’m on your side.”

There’s a fine tremor in your hands when he leaves. And though embarrassment keeps you from meeting his eyes on his way out, you tell yourself again that he’s done you a service in confirming what you saw, that at least this has given you new footing to stand on. 

You remind yourself of that as you feel your feet begin to slip from under you.

[genderkoolaid]

I really respect Jules Giles-Peterson, her work is great, and she's pretty good at consciously trying to avoid casual anti-transmasculinity from what I've seen. But I do really wish she could talk about transmasculine history with the same depth she talks about transfem history. Not because she should HAVE to– I have no issue with her focusing mostly on what she knows best. But every time she brings up transmasc history I'm like!!!! if this is a topic you want to bring up there's SO much more you can be saying here.

I just read this article by her:

And I think it's in general good! I was really happy to see a well known transfem scholar writing something on this topic, since so many people seem to have blinders on when it comes to the very obvious intersection of trans and abortion issues.

Additionally, she uses this as an opportunity to talk about transfem/transmasc community and the support networks between us, which is lovely. She illustrates not only the connection between trans people and abortion but also how that has been an opportunity for collaboration and shared resistance.

However... it feels to me like there's weirdly little focus on transmascs in this article about trans abortions? It feels like more time is spent rehashing the "trans men went stealth and moved away, trans women formed communities in the cities" model rather than exploring the relationship trans people have had to their abortions throughout history. She acknowledges that the chance to achieve that ideal "cis passing married successful straight man" life was slim, but then she doesn't explore what possible experiences OUTSIDE of that slim chance where like.

And I fully acknowledge that it's hard to talk about a lot of transmasc history because so little has been recorded. But that doesn't mean nothing has. While not technically related to abortion, I feel like it would be well worth it to bring up Ferdinand Alexander Bruce, given that he is a historical trans man that we know gave birth. Even more, we know it because he wrote an memoir, so we actually have his own words in his gender and life. Bruce was stealth at certain points in his life, but his transition was public and he was outed repeatedly, leading to constant discrimination. It's not known if his pregnancy was the product of sex or rape. He is an invaluable look into the history of transmasculine pregnancy and the relationships trans people had with pregnancy throughout history. This is the kind of trans man in history we don't think about because his life did not fall into the standard narrative of "transition, pass, marry a woman, get outed after death."

She also brings up the association of trans women and sex work, as a point to how trans women would have established a network of care for trans men using their knowledge as sex workers (a group that has always been closely tied to abortion). I think this a really good and interesting point, but I also think she misses the opportunity to explore the history of trans men in sex work. Sex work and general promiscuity has been associated with FTM crossdressing throughout history (also see this). Many trans men and nonbinary people present as feminine cis women while doing sex work today. There was even an anthology released recently on the experiences of transmasculine sex workers.

I think this is a good article but it's just... disappointing to see people approach this topic, that so much can be said about, and barely even scratch the surface of saying something new. Especially when her work on transfem history is so good.

[fear-is-truth]

AND THERE WILL BE NO TENDERNESS

warnings — MDNI 18+ ．rough sex．dysfunctional relationship． nam-gyu being an awkward asshole author’s note — was kinda drunk when i drafted this, so… this may not be my best work

how had my life come to this?

you’d asked yourself a hundred times how your life had spiraled into a game of death over unpaid debts, but this? this was a new low.

NAM-GYU never bothered to hide his disdain for you—cutting you off mid-sentence, shoving past you without apology, and calling you every name under the sun whenever you so much as looked at him wrong. you’d stopped wondering what his problem was long ago. eventually, you just chalked it up to him being a miserable bastard who needed someone to take it out on.

for whatever reason, that someone was always you.

then thanos started flirting with you—it didn’t mean anything—just a brief distraction in a hellhole where people were mercilessly killed over childhood games, but apparently, it was enough to push nam-gyu’s irritation to a whole new level. he couldn’t stand you before, but now it seemed like everything you did irked him even more.

and yet, here you were, shoved into a bathroom stall with the same man who’d sworn he hated you, his body pinning yours against the door. you’d lost count of how many times he’d made you come, but that didn’t really matter.

you hated him too. no, scratch that—you still hated him. maybe not with the same fervour as before, but you sure as hell didn’t like him now. not even a little.

“thought you liked when he gave you attention,” nam-gyu sneered, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “was it fun? letting him look at you like that?” his words were punctuated with a sharp thrust, forcing a strangled gasp from your lips.

“what the hell are you talking about?” you hissed, trying to crane your head over your neck to shoot a glare at him, but nam-gyu’s hand was already gripping your jaw, tilting your head back until it rested against his shoulder.

“open,” you obeyed without thinking, lips parting to allow him to slip two digits into your mouth. the cool press of his ring grazed your lips, and you gagged slightly when his fingers hooked deeper, pressing down on your tongue as his pelvis ground into you with bruising force.

“you just don’t get it, do you?” the words poured out in a disjointed rush. “all this time, i’m right there, and you let him—” his voice broke off in a frustrated growl, and he shoved you harder against the door, hips snapping forward and sheathing himself to the hilt. you moaned around his fingers, and he cursed under his breath when he felt you clench around him.

“you’re mine now. got it?”

you nodded as best you could, his fingers still in your mouth making it impossible to respond properly. that must have been enough because nam-gyu lowered his head, trailing deceptively gentle kisses along your shoulder.

“good. ‘cause i fucking–” his teeth sank into your flesh, hard. the sharp pain startled you, and your teeth bit down reflexively, breaking skin. the metallic tang of blood coated your tongue, but if he noticed, he gave no indication.

“—hated seeing you look at someone else like that,”

he slammed you flat against the door, grasping your hips with bruising force as he rutted into you. the door hinges creaked under the onslaught, his movements relentless and animalistic, chasing his release with single-minded intensity. curse words spilled from his lips, gradually breaking down into incoherent groans as his pace quickened, each thrust sloppier than the last.

in a final, shuddering motion, he came hard, his arms wrapped around you tightly, crushing you to his chest as he trembled against you.

whimpering.

he stayed like that for a while, his breath coming in ragged bursts, the heat of it fanning across the back of your neck. slowly, nam-gyu pulled his bloodied fingers from your mouth, the faint tang of copper lingering on your tongue. warm lips traced soft kisses along your shoulder, the earlier aggression melting into something that could almost be described as…tender.

you stiffened.

the intimacy of it was almost worse than the roughness. worse than the fact that this had happened at all.

without thinking, you shoved him off.

nam-gyu let out a grunt as he stumbled back, catching himself on the wall. he stared at you for a second, then just rolled his eyes and started pulling on his clothes. neither of you said anything. the silence stretched on, broken only by the rustle of fabric.

“are you voting ‘yes’ tonight?”

you paused at his question, wiping at a smudge of blood near your mouth. your life was already a disaster—this situation was a perfect example.

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

his lips twitched into a faint smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. you rolled your eyes and pushed past him, leaving the stall without another word.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sayusims]

Maomao mini analysis

Maomao in The Apothecary Diaries is such a sad character, but she doesn't act like it because, in her world, it's kind of normalized. First, her mom, an esteemed courtesan, essentially hated her because she gave birth to her. Her biological dad is gone and not in her life (we know it wasn’t by choice, but this is from her perspective). She was raised in a brothel, and while she had people there who loved her, it's still a brothel. Even after she was adopted, she still had to take precautions to make sure she wasn’t going to be kidnapped or that nothing else would happen to her because of men.

After all of this, when she was still a teenager, she was kidnapped by a couple of guys and sold to the Emperor’s palace. These events are really traumatic, but at the same time, she still has the same indifference—as if she doesn’t care that much. She wants to stay in her own lane, and with her tactical genius (stemming from both her parents), this is relatively easy to do. But I wanted to know more, and since I’m taking AP World History in school, it wasn’t really that hard to understand why.

The Apothecary Diaries takes place during the Ming-Qing dynasty (possibly Song), which is evident because of the harem system, the clothing style, and the medicine she uses. During this time, China had been taken back from the Mongols, and the government, in an effort to get rid of their traditions, reinstated many old systems like the civil service exam, improved education, and reestablished the bureaucracy. The education aspect is evident in the series because of the plans to better educate women on basic skills like reading.

The part worth highlighting, though, is that China (and basically everywhere the Mongols ruled) was safer under their rule. So when everything became scattered again, safety greatly decreased, making things like kidnappings more common. This is probably why Maomao wasn’t distraught about being kidnapped. Still, the rest of what happened before this time is traumatic enough.

The main reason I give for this is that she’s used to it—not in a Stockholm syndrome way, but in an “oh, this happens sometimes” way. Being raised in the brothels, she likely saw the worst parts of humanity in the customers and the courtesans. Being exposed to this regularly probably caused her to naturally believe that humans do bad things—but not in an overly pessimistic way, since she still had good people taking care of her. Along with this, she is just practical in everything she does. She weighs the pros and cons of her actions before she acts. She discloses information that is important to wrap up a case so she doesn’t have more drama to deal with (unlike a lot of characters, which is why I love her).

While she still has a curious personality when it comes to mysteries, at this point in season 2, she has gained the trust of literally everyone important, making her unlikely to get into trouble. (This is still China in the 11th-12th century, so she still has to be careful, but compared to before, she has a lot more freedom.)

While her personality may look plain at first, you quickly grow to love her, especially her passion for medicines and poisons. The shift in her demeanor when poisons come into play is so fun to watch. This shows that, at the end of the day, she is still a teenager. She is mature but childlike at the same time when it comes to things she’s interested in. Women in this time were supposed to be, like in almost every other time in history, subordinate to men. Maomao, being as smart as she is, knows and acknowledges this but does not let it stop her. She goes against the status quo by being a completely independent woman who doesn’t need a man.

The best part of this is that she does it without really thinking about it. Her goal is not to go against the status quo or anything like that but simply to pursue her interests in life.

Overall, I just really love Maomao and the series, and it better keep getting new seasons until it’s done, or else I’m going to tweak out. I also wrote this while procrastinating on my AP World homework to “review” for the AP exam (which is like four months away), but I hope you guys like it.

[gilverrwrites]

nah because I just tought of something.

what if while AK!Jason accidentally hurts the reader while they're..yk,like accidentally cutting then with a pocket knife too deep than intended and while taking a look actually noticing all the other damage he had done,(wich was not to underestimate)and he randomly goes all soft,and it's just confusing af

Not sure if same anon, or if two great minds are thinking alike, but more below:

AK!Jason having one night where he realizes he’s maybe gone too far with you. You made some snarky remark and he retaliated by leaving you tied to a vibrator for a little too long and comes back to find Slade ate you out and is unloading on you, but the tears on your face makes him pull Slade off of you.

He’s used to a few small tears of frustration or reluctant pleasure from you, but these are resigned, exhausted tears and he thinks he maybe hears you plead for Slade to end it in a broken little whisper.

Jason doesn’t outright say he feels guilty, but he leads you to the bathroom and washes you off with a gentle touch he forgot he was capable of. Maybe he didn’t realize quite how many bite marks he left to scar on your body or has to reckon with the fact that nothing that happened to him is actually your fault. But he doesn’t let them linger.

He simply pulls one of his thin white undershirts over your head and actually spares you a blanket. He isn’t nice about it and he makes you say thank you with his gun in your mouth, but there’s a moment where he pretends to feel your forehead so he can fib something about you having a cold to Slade…but really it’s an excuse to stroke you.

He’s very vanilla for the next week.

It's funny that the second mentioned cleaning you up because that's also where my mind went. But I was picturing him dragging you through the base with an unyielding grip on your wrist, purposefully tsking and scoffing every time you stumble over your heavy, shaking legs in an attempt to maintain the uncaring, volatile persona he's chiselled out for you. When he reaches the communal bathrooms, he kicks out any militia and locks the door, leaving the two of you alone.

He genuinely rolls his eyes at your dramatics when you gasp and hiss under the stream of hot water, but as you begin to wash away the grime and dried blood, revealing just how bruised and damaged you really are, the guilt that's been scratching at his chest really digs its claws in.

You struggle, trying to reach your back and though he wants to help, he hesitates, lingering a few feet away until you look at him pleadingly, too embarrassed to ask for help and he figures after all the damage he's done, he owes you this much without fighting or goading you.

So he strips down with you, silently massaging unscented shower gel into your aching muscles, gentle not to push too hard anywhere that's dark or swollen. Snapping at you not to look at him so he can get a good, harrowing glimpse at every cut and abrasion without having to deal with the sad expression on your face that only makes the pit in his guts feel all the more consuming.

Eventually, you're about as clean as you're ever gonna get, and he lets you dry yourself off with a scratchy communal towel before bandaging the worst of your wounds and dressing you in his undershirt,. Then he puts you over his shoulder and carries you to his chambers where he can tell you're trying to hide your excitement at the prospect of sleeping on a real bed.

When he asks if you're gonna be good, or if he's gonna have to chain you to it, you nod vigorously; promising to behave.

He's not so sure, he's been there, making promises to captors with every intent of breaking them but he leaves you be, giving you one last sceptical head-to-toe before departing to tell Slade you're out of service until further notice.

Hours later he returns, finding you curled in on yourself, every blanket and pillow you could find pulled in close,

You wake, frozen to the spot as you feel him crawling in beside you. His cold body silently nestles against yours, the hands that so frequently cause your torment follow your curves until one settles on your hip. The other tenderly brushes over the sore skin at the back of your neck where your former bindings had chaffed. You remain still and silent, not wanting to irritate or arouse him, and eventually, he falls asleep, clinging to you in a way that is both comforting and unsettling.

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

Scars On My Mind (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty? When Agatha appears at your doorstep covered in blood with a knitting needle peeking out of her elbow, you certainly wish you hadn’t. Here’s how it went.

Content/Warnings: WitchKiller!Agatha, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Injury, So Much Blood, Open Wound, Angst, Mild Mentions of NSFW Content, no beta we die like the Daughters of Liberty

This fic is a gift for @marril96 who made a gifset for me in return! Ily, let's swap again! It was so so so much fun to dive a little deeper into Agatha’s Witch Killer days with this, and make her a little vulnerable for once!

The rain started on Thursday night and hadn’t stopped since. A continuous drumming against your window, the world outside tainted a muddy grey. It was the earliest hours of Saturday now, Friday had passed silently without you noticing, the continuous waterfalls of raindrops on the windows not letting up to let the days pass either. The vinyl player kept playing as Friday had slipped into Saturday too, the kettle kept simmering as you prepared a boiling cup of Agatha‘s favourite tea blend. Even as the days drifted away, the world kept going. Boiling hot water turned into lukewarm turned into cold, the vinyl finished playing, spinning to a halt. The rain kept thrumming.

You sighed, leaning back on the couch, eyes fluttering shut. Agatha was late, like, even later than usually. And you were tired, sleep tugging at your bones with gradually more and more urgency.

But it was useless to go to bed, no matter how often she insisted you shan’t wait for her. You wouldn’t find much sleep anyway. Not on nights like this. When Agatha was out with other witches, when she set out to … feed? Kill? Siphon?

Well, it was hard to find any rest while she was out there like that.

She may have laughed when you’d admitted to that, throwing her leather jacket over her shoulders before pulling you into a quick kiss by your neck.

„There’s nothing to worry about, darling. I do this all the time.“

But still, as the front door to your little nyc apartment swung open and she sauntered out, chirping a „See you tonight, honey!“, over her shoulder at you, the pit in your stomach remained. The ghost of her palm on the back of your neck remained.

You sighed, taking a sip of the cold tea you’d prepared. If she wasn’t coming home in time, you certainly wouldn’t let the water go to waste.

They’d just raised the prizes for utilities on you. And while Agatha had just laughed and mentioned some inactive bank account she had in Germany that she‘d simply pull from, you couldn’t help but stress about it.

It wasn’t that you didn‘t trust her, so far every time she’d mentioned some savings from one of her many, many lives it had always been true. But just because she was an undying, centuries old witch who didn’t have to concern herself with mundane things like paying bills didn’t mean you could just shake those things off the same.

You had no magick, but you did have your name on a lease. But so far, she’d always made it work somehow, whether that be with her old account of when she lived right beside the Berlin Wall ten years ago or by selling a quick spell or curse to some unassuming person desperate enough to pay for one. You weren’t even sure if she actually performed real spells all of the time. Your Agatha was a scam artist through and through, but you wouldn’t have her any other way.

You took another sip of tea, watching the rain pour down the window. Sometimes, you wondered how many more of you there had been. Agatha was good at dodging those questions, but one night, when you wouldn’t let off even after she’d made you come undone multiple times on the couch, she’d handed you a little cardboard box.

„I try not to be traceable and I can’t exactly show you baby pictures, but some stuff just sticks.“

The contents of the box were fragile, some paper so frail you barely wanted to touch it. Little notes, handwritten poems, a few pages torn out of books. A pencil sketch of the bunny that lived in a cage beside your bed, that she always made sure to drape a blanket over before going down on you. An ink sketch of her, without the worry lines on her forehead or the little wrinkles around her eyes. But, as always, with the amulet she never took off her body.

A few photographs. Black and white on flimsy film paper, Agatha in a flapper dress, feather in her hair and a cigarillo between her lips, legs spread as she leaned back on a barstool. Agatha in the same dress, smiling over her shoulder at the camera, a dark skinned woman in a matching dress sitting beside her, raising her champagne flute at the camera.

Jenny Kale, you knew from her stories, the most brilliant potions maker Agatha had ever met. And the most annoying one. They‘d fallen off, you assumed it had something to do with Agatha‘s habit of power grabbing.

But, there was also a Polaroid.

A Polaroid that lay on the coffee table in front of you now.

A Polaroid that had not left your mind since you’d found it.

Agatha with a wild, unkempt perm and uneven bangs, black liner smudged around her eyes, in a black tank top, arm stretched out to take the picture. But, what actually caught your eye was the arm wrapped around her waist, tight enough to bunch up the fabric of her shirt, revealing a thin line of pale skin of her lower stomach. The person hugging her was out of frame, all you could see was an arm, and a shoulder pressed into Agatha‘s, and the way the witch seemed to hold back a laugh. The handwriting under the picture was messy, and the black marker had faded over the years.

For my love A.H. 1982 - We can be heroes forever and ever

And then what you‘d assumed was once a heart, but got smudged by someone touching the ink before it had dried.

It was exactly what you‘d been looking for. Proof that there had been people before you. That you weren’t her first lover in the 350 long years of her life. Of course you weren’t, that’d be foolish to assume!

But still, the find had punched a hole into your stomach that had only hollowed out the more you thought about it.

How many other people had she taken a liking to, how many non magickal people had she moved in with, let them sign leases and contracts for her as she ran off to suck the magic out of the local witch community of wherever she found herself? How long had this been going on? How long until she’d move on?

Sure, you were young now, but other than her, the clock was ticking for you. Would you just wake up one day and find her gone? And would she bother to keep your picture? And, even if all of this was nothing, why would she hide it from you? She‘d told you about Jennifer Kale, but she‘d never ever mentioned living with someone during her time in Berlin, or any era before that.

You bit your bottom lip, hissing when you tasted the metallic tinge of your own blood.

Did you want to be just another picture in her little box of memories? Did she even deem you worth remembering?

It was stupid to think like that, and you knew that, but it was harder not to let the uncertainty consume you.

But, you were smart enough never to ask her about it directly. Your wild, fierce, unapologetic witch. You loved her, you had realised that the moment her eyes met yours for the first time, and you loved everything about the chaos and the magick and the passion that she brought into your life. Maybe that was why the potential answer scared you so much. Better to keep holding onto your belief than to risk knowing you didn’t mean as much to her as she did to you. Better to live in the harmony of what you had built with her.

You wish you‘d never asked her about her prior life, had never opened the paper box. Now that you had the Polaroid in hand, it was impossible to put down.

A sound ripped you from your self deprecating thoughts. A faint scratch, just loud enough that you were sure you hadn’t imagined it. Another one. Like a dog scratching at a locked front door … or a key that kept missing the hole it belonged into, and instead kept hitting the rough wood of your door.

You sat up. „Agatha?“

No answer. Fuck.

You knew Agatha had her enemies, it was impossible to live that long without them. Hell, there was a whole coven formed of the daughters of her prior victims, a piece of information you preferred to not think about too much. After all, you saw what she was capable of, saw her cast runes around the entire apartment to keep out evil spirits, the way she glowed after siphoning, the daily use of telekinesis and the occasional prodding your mind - which she swore was to remind you to keep up the mental wards she‘d taught you, and totally not because she enjoyed the image of her that danced around your thoughts since the day you met.

Wards you made sure you had up and intakt now as you grabbed a candelabra on your way towards the front door - the first weapon you‘d spontaneously found.

Another scratch at the door, then a grunt, and a little thud, like something was falling into the wooden frame.

„Agatha?“, you asked again, louder.

Panting, whoever was on the other side of the door was breathing heavily.

Here goes nothing. You bit down on your lower lip, fingers tightening around the candelabra. Twisting the doorknob, you held your weapon high, ready to strike. The wooden door flew open, you held your breath … only to immediately let it go in a loud shriek.

In front of you was in fact Agatha, however, this was not how you had expected her to return. Her shirt was torn and ripped apart, shreds of fabric barely clinging onto her. if you hadn’t known, you would have never guessed it used to be white fabric, for it was covered in mud and dirt and … a worrying amount of blood. There was so much blood. On her clothes, her face, her head. Like someone had dumped a bucket of red over her head. Agatha herself was shaking, her body leaning against the wooden doorframe, the key she was holding in her right hand quivering with every rattling breath she took. Her left arm … your stomach twisted. Her left arm was completely bare, the sleeve ripped away at the seam, and her skin was covered in dark red crusts of dried and fresh blood. It hung useless at her side, and as she shifted from one foot to her other, you saw a single, long piece of hard plastic sticking right out of her elbow.

Your stomach twisted at the sight, and you instinctively had to reach for the wall, not trusting your knees to support your weight right now.

Agatha’s eyes were open wide, blue piercing at you as she panted, a now dried drop of blood had run right between her eyes and down her nose. She looked insane. You felt insane.

And yet, she had the nerve to cock her brows at you. „The candlestick? Seriously? Do you have any idea how much that thing is worth these days?“

Slowly, you dropped your arm, the makeshift weapon sliding out of your grip and tumbling to the floor.

Agatha winced, like that was what really caused her pain right now.

„Agatha!“, you gasped, swallowing hard.

The witch bit her bottom lip, hard, before heaving her own body closer towards the entryway, pushing for you to let her in.

„I got ambushed“, she exclaimed, even though that didn’t explain anything at all, „This little bunch was smarter than they seemed. In theory at least“, she laughed, but it only made her grit her teeth, „All the spells and curses in the world, and they stab me with a fucking knitting needle!“

You gulped. So that was the thing peeking out of her elbow.

Glassy blue eyes found you, her glare bewildered, almost panicked. „Are you done now? I would love it if we could at least move this out of the hallway, before we wake the neighbors!“

Finally, you snapped back into reality. Agatha was injured, badly, and she was also leaving stains of red on your doorframe and the „Welcome Home“ doormat in the hallway. But those were problems for later.

Right now, you needed to get her to safety. You surged forwards, grabbing her by her uninjured shoulder, pulling her right arm around your neck.

„Lean onto me“, you instructed, kicking the candelabra out of your way as you slowly guided her into the apartment.

She was cold to the touch, too cold for your liking, but she still managed to tut at you anyway. „What would you say if i kicked your hairdryer around like that?“

You let the front door fall shut behind you, other arm wrapping around her waist to support her further.

“I would say Thank You Honey for not letting me bleed out on the doormat! but you can practice that later.“

That made her snort, and you felt her entire body wince in pain.

„Stop being funny“, she hissed, her right hand digging into your shoulder as you slowly guided her towards the couch, step by step, „It hurts.“

You finally reached the plush sofa and carefully sat her down. Agatha‘s body collapsed against the cushions with a groan, her head rolling back.

„Hey!“, you snapped your fingers right in front of her face, „Sit up! Don’t you dare faint on me!“

Her eyes fluttered, and you felt panic rise in your chest. Your palms found her cheeks, cupping her face gently as you pulled her head back up, forcing her to look at you. Blue eyes blinked up at you, pupils dilating when they closed in on your face.

„Agatha“, you said, taking a deep breath more to calm yourself than her, „I‘m gonna go grab the first aid kit, but I need you to stay with me, okay? No fainting. Can you curl your fingers for me?“

Her right hand curled into a weak fist with no issues, while her left hand laid beside her uselessly. You swallowed. „Okay, keep doing that. Clench, and unclench, exactly. I‘ll be back in a second.“

She blinked twice, and a small smile found her blood covered, cracked lips. „You’re worried about me“, she drawled deliriously, healthy hand coming up to poke your side. The touch was a lot weaker than you‘d like. „That’s hot.“

You bit down on your tongue. „You’re unbelievable“, you shook your head, making sure her own head was supported by the cushions behind her before letting go, „Keep clenching your fists!“

To your relief, the first aid kit was right under the sink in the bathroom, fully stocked and ready for you. On your way back out, you grabbed a towel as well.

Agatha was still sitting up when you came back, already digging through the first aid kit as you walked, pulling out bandages, alcohol wipes, and the little bottle of superglue you kept in the kit. You sucked your cheeks in, thumb running over the little tag on it. The next fifteen minutes were going to suck.

Glassy blue eyes watched you as you spread out your new findings on the coffee table. Her breath came in heaves, but at least they were even and her chest didn’t quiver with every gush of air that surged through her lungs anymore.

„How are you feeling?“, you asked, needing her to stay awake, stay with you at any costs.

Luckily, she had it back in her to let out a humourless chuckle. „Like shit. Those bitches betrayed me like I didn‘t teach them everything they knew.“

Even as you cut open the plastic baggy holding a bandaid, you had to give her a long look over your shoulder.

„Betraying the witch that was gonna betray them? How dare they.“

Agatha opened her mouth in protest, but then you sat back up on the couch next to her, the cushions she was resting her injured arm on shifting, and instead a high, pained whimper left her throat. The sound rang through your head and you pressed your lips together, carefully positioning her arm so the needle stuck in it was facing you.

„I‘m sorry“, you took a deep breath, „You‘re not gonna like me for the next few minutes, but I need you to stay still for me, okay?“ Your eyes found hers, and you gave her a firm little nod.

„What?“, Agatha's voice was weak, brows creased in confusion, her eyes barely focusing on you. You gave her a soft smile, hand closing around the knitting needle slow and firm. „Look out the window babe“, you softly hummed and Agatha‘s head rolled to the other side, lashes fluttering.

„Don’t turn around“, you said. But of course, she immediately turned back.

“The window Agatha!“, you sighed exasperated, not waiting for her to listen this time.

„Okay, one, two…“ Before you could say the next number, you gritted your teeth. With one firm tug, the knitting needle slid right out of her open wound.

Agatha screamed, flinching under your firm grip, head thrown back against the couch.

The needle made a wet sound as you pulled it out that made your stomach turn. Thick, red liquid was stuck to the plastic as well as fresh blood immediately pooling out of the wound at her elbow.

You quickly pressed the towel onto it, gripping Agatha’s arm tight so she couldn’t pull away, even as she screamed. The whimpers leaving her throat echoed through your bones, and you had to bite down on your cheek harder.

„I‘m sorry baby“, you pressed out, glancing over at her face. Fresh, salty tears ran down her face, parting the dried crusts of blood on her cheeks. She was biting down on her tongue, hard enough to draw blood, holding back her sobs as best as she could.

„Fuck you“, she sobbed weakly, eyes closed shut and you had to chuckle.

„That’s okay. Let it out.“, you hummed, pressing the towel down onto the wound with one hand. The pale blue fabric was quickly soaking up red, and you had to act fast, worried she was going to lose too much blood.

With your free hand you reached for the superglue, the lid already off, clear, stale liquid at the tip.

„I have to do one more thing that you‘re not gonna like“, you said, keeping your grip on her arm tight as she tried to pull away.

„No! Stop! That’s enough!“, she yelped and it took everything in you to stay firm. The wound needed closing, no matter how much it would hurt.

„Agatha!“, you held her tight, giving her a firm stare that held no room for discussion. When you saw the way her bottom lip was quivering despite her pushed forward chin, your voice softened.

“I‘m trying to help you. Just one more thing and you‘re done, I promise.“

Agatha swallowed hard, leaning towards you.

You let her, gently pressing your forehead to hers.

„That was scary“, she murmured, „They were so smart about it. Didn’t blast me once. Instead…“, her shoulders twitched in an attempt to shrug, the sharp pain causing her to wince.

„Instead you came home with a knitting needle in your arm“, you nodded, craning your neck. Your lips brushed over her forehead, the bittersweet mix of mud and blood on your tongue as you pressed a gentle kiss right over the crease she always pulled when she was in pain, but trying to be brave about it.

„This was terrifying, but you’re being so strong“, you leaned back again, enough to look her in the eyes one more time, „Let me close the wound and then it‘ll be over, I promise.“

And she let you.

As you pulled the towel away to inspect the wound closer, Agatha looked the other way, her right hand coming up to her mouth as you pulled the skin together. As you dropped the clear glue down onto the gash, pulling it closed with one hand and handling the bottle of superglue with the other, she let out another blood curdling scream, muffled only by her teeth digging into her own hand. But, it worked. The moment the liquid began to thicken, the bleeding stopped.

It took all the alcohol wipes of the kit to get her arm cleaned up, working quickly and in silence, knowing well not to talk to Agatha as hot tears ran down her cheeks. You made sure to save a wipe for the bite mark on her right hand too, and then once you were positive all of her injuries were cleaned, you finally reached for the bandaids.

By the time she was all patched up and in clean clothes (you‘d thrown her bloody shirt and all towels it had taken to get the muck off her face into the bathtub, a problem for later), the two of your curled up underneath a blanket, her healthy shoulder squeezed up against yours, the sun was coming up.

Finally, it had stopped raining too.

The two of you had shared a can of microwaved ravioli, and slowly but surely, the color was returning to Agatha‘s cheeks. You wrapped your arm tighter around her, nose nuzzling into the crown of her head. Her hair still smelled of metal and cinder, but that didn’t bother you right now. What mattered was that she was still with you, that her body was warm against yours and her breathing even.

The blanket rustled as she shifted in your hold, right hand coming up to rest over yours.

„Now.“, Agatha took a long breath, thumb running over your knuckles as she held your hands in hers. Finally, she seemed fully back to consciousness.

„Tell me why you‘ve been pondering all night instead of sleeping like I told you to.“

„What?“, your brows furrowed, tilting your head to the side in confusion as you glanced down at her.

Agatha nodded towards the coffee table, blue eyes fixed on a specific object scattered between the leftovers of your once organised and stacked first aid kit. „I doubt you‘re using that as a bookmark.“

Between scissors and a piece of bandage you‘d cut off, there was still the Polaroid you‘d taken from the box of her private possessions. Now, there was a single drop of blood on it, right above the black marker writing.

„Oh my god!“, you quickly reached for it, „I‘m so sorry, I‘ll clean that off!“

Before your hand could reach the photo, Agatha‘s unharmed arm lunged forward, hand closing around your wrist. Despite how pale she still looked, she pulled you back to her with no trouble, wrapping the blanket around you two tighter. Injury or not, there was still magick power running through her veins.

„Darling“, her pale eyes found yours, „Look at me.“

You didn’t dare break the eye contact she established, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do right now, ears hot with embarrassment.

„Have you been thinking about that?“ she asked, and you knew exactly what she meant. Her long, long life before you, the nature of your relationship. The only thing on your mind for days now.

„I mean, it‘s stupid!“, you shook your head „It’s naive to think I‘m something special, you’ve had such a long life already,“ you poked her side, „Even though that‘s hard to believe right now.“

Agatha‘s hoarse chuckle made you smile despite everything weighing on your mind.

„I‘m going to stop you right there.“

With her healthy hand, she tried to push herself up, eyes fluttering shut as she groaned in pain. You instinctively reached for her shoulders, helping her sit up and lean against the sofa cushions.

Her hand found your cheek, palm gently cupping your cheek.

„You are something special“, her voice was low and you swallowed hard.

„Do you think I could do this with just anyone? I was just bleeding out on your couch.“ Her eyes found yours, giving you a firm little nod. „Have there been others? Of course. A witches lifespan depends on her powers, and I‘m not exactly the type other witches want around for long. It can get lonely.“ Her lips pursed into a little smirk, brows rising. „But thanks to you, it‘s not. And thanks to you, it won’t end just yet either.“ She chuckled, raising her bandaged elbow with a sharp inhale.

Your hold on her shoulders tightened just the smallest bit, holding her upwards. Her thumb ran over your cheek, and you couldn’t suppress your smile at the touch.

„What I am saying is yes, there have been lovers before you. But that does not diminish your presence in my life, and it does not make you any less special. To be quite honest, you‘re the first person to have pulled a knitting needle out of my elbow.“

She let out a little laugh and soon, you joined in. Agatha‘s hand tugged at the back of your neck, and you willingly let her pull you into a sweet, gentle kiss. Her lips brushed against yours with the familiarity of someone who had practiced plenty, pushing her chin forward into the kiss like she knew you loved her to do, and you let out a little laugh in return, teeth grazing over her bottom lip just the slightest bit. Exactly the way that made her groan, pull you in tighter, kiss you with more and more fervour, until you’d bite down on her plump lip for real.

But not right now. You pulled away before she could coax you into something more, giving the shoulder of her injured arm a gentle tap as you raised your brows at her.

„Not now Agatha! You literally almost died today.“

She let out an exasperated sigh, but then opted to wrap her healthy arm around your waist instead, pulling you closer. „But I didn’t, thanks to you.“

You gave her a warning glare but obliged as she pulled you into her lap, arm wrapped around you and your hands resting on her shoulders. She leaned forward, lips grazing over your neck just enough to make you gasp before nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, a spot she had found she fit perfectly into one time while napping and loved ever since. Your hands found her hair, fingers slowly running through the thick, dark waves falling down her back. She hummed against your neck at the feeling, and you felt your heart swell at the sound. Even if all of this was fleeting, at least right now, you could provide a safe space for her.

You pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling the faint scent of the lavender oil she liked to brush through her hair.

Even if you were but a fleeting moment in her life, maybe in 10, 20 years she‘d think back to you and miss the way her nose perfectly nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Agatha“, you whispered, so quiet, you could barely hear it yourself, „Try not to get killed while I‘m still around.“

If she heard you, she didn’t answer.

You pulled her even tighter.

[caramelcleopatraa]

ALL UP IN YOU MIND

word count: 870

x: ..... hey y'all (,,>﹏<,,) i'm back with sum short and sweet while I'm writing some other stuff. I hope you enjoy :) excuse any errors I didn't catch ~ Cleo

You tried to act like it doesn’t bother you, but every time you see him, your sexual frustration rises. You were bound to explode at some point.

Your body was damn near vibrating. Restraint was your closest acquaintance recently. You sat there and watched him as he accepted business call after strenuous business call. You knew yourself. It was impossible to be in the same space as your husband and not be magnetized to him from the jump. It’s not like it was the only thing you noticed about him. The countless days of work that he’s put in, the stress that comes with maintaining good at his job, especially one that was so demanding like wrestling, and the physical work that has taken a toll on him is something that a lot of people can't handle. You understood what he had to do to even have these moments so that he can come home and relax… well, semi-relax, because those business calls just seemed to keep coming. You never wanted to seem superficial and at the very least, only concerned with sex. But… fuck, sometimes when you saw him relaxing and lounging around the house, taking a shower, or taking care of business. The simplest things were your biggest triggers. You couldn’t count on less than two hands how many times you had gotten hot and bothered over him being stern over the phone, when negotiations were rocky. Seeing him in such concentration just sent you into an enticing spiral that was fun at times, but excruciating in many other situations. Those times when he came home and he wanted nothing more than sleep, or the quiet days of solitude after energy draining events. You found yourself dealing with a puddle between your legs, leading to those suspicious long showers. 

Roman was the best package deal you could’ve ever wished for. A mature man that preferred communication over assumption, paired with the face and body of a god, spoiled the ever living hell out of you, always made sure you were taken care of. Mentally, physically, and sexually. It’s like second nature for him, and he already does so much for you. So you figured you could just deal with yourself when you got too excited. But it started happening so often, you had to tell him. You needed him. Bad. As much as you tried not to burden him with your newly discovered and frankly annoying sex drive, you knew what he could do, how he could make that provocative ache subside. You daydreamed for hours about how euphoric it would feel once he finally put his hands on you. It pays to be selfless, but you wanted him to yourself just for the weekend. All yours, with no distractions. Just you and him.

That’s the position you just put yourself in. Such a conflict of interest. You had wished sometimes when he had heard your moans from inside the bathroom, due to you stopping trying to be quiet, that he would strip down to nothing and join you. But you knew when duty called, it was hard for him to get distracted when he had his mind concentrated on what he was doing.

You had daydreamed what it would be like if you teased him while he was working until he reached his breaking point. How he would never rush you, but be so impatient to take of your silk robe and sit you in his chair while he kneeled before you and ate you out like it was his first time tasting you, hands roaming your legs and up your torso and eventually grabbing your throat with both hands, still eating your pussy until you experience dizzying bliss. And after that, how easy it is for his dick to slip inside of you with his hands still around your neck while telling you how needy you are, and how he can’t wait to fuck your needy pussy. He’d damn near forget that he’s on a business call, unmuting himself to make some lackadaisical excuse as to why he couldn’t stay on, still snatching your soul with his strokes and eye contact that served as a nonverbal command to not make a fucking sound until they hung up. Your eyes would roll as you felt yourself closer to cumming as you worked circles on your clit, listening to his words that made you moan just on their own. 

“Lemme see that beautiful face while you cum all over this dick.”

“You can take that dick baby, don’t tell me what you can’t take.”

“That pussy too damn good baby, got me addicted to you.”

You had blinked your eyes numerous times to bring you out of your daydream, rubbing your temple and letting out a heavy sigh. ”You okay over there baby?”

“How long until you're finished with your phone call?” He points to his phone, laying face down on the desk next to him. “Just got off.”

Your body moved on its own, walking over to him and sitting on top of him with no hesitation, massaging his shoulders softly. “Good, because I really want you daddy. I can’t wait any longer.”

🏷️ tags :) @hunnidmilly @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce

@theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen

@alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae

@fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove

@sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

@shes2real @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80

@msbigredmachine @sayyestoheav3nn @trippinsorrows @mzv11

@saintmagx @jstarr86 @pr3ttiesz @trentybenty @romansthrone

@scarlettnoir01 @tshepisho @rose-bliss @yana3sworld

@queeny23 @bebesobrielo @heauxvibez @amandairene88

@potatosackk

[zombaebitez]

Random Thoughts

abby anderson x fem reader

synopsis: how you and abby originally met.

word count: abt 745 || warnings: none (sfw)

Dynamics; how a relationship works, the hinge and oil. You and Abby’s relationship is light work, she is a provider, and you are a nurturer. That's the dynamic, at least in the most simple terms.

ꕥ Abby knows how to present herself, she can command, and turn heads. Her being on the taller side, and buff as hell, it’s only nature to be drawn to her.

ꕥ You turn heads for another reason, your sweet compliments, and bright laugh. Pretty outfits, and obvious care to not offend, rather defend, it’s only nature for her to be drawn to you.

ꕥ You two met originally on a dating site (the lesbian dating scene can be hard sometimes we know)!

⤍ Seeing her profile, you immediately thought she was a pretty girl. You decided to do a little reading, finding out some basic information like her name, age, and so on. She seemed to have this active outgoing lifestyle, as there are a few pictures of her in a gym, with friends, and at farmer’s markets. She was appealing, like a picture perfect person, so on a whim you decided to show interest.

⤍ By time the end of the day came round, you get a notification for a match, and behold it was for the cute blonde you swiped on earlier. Did you jump for joy? maybe a little.. on the inside. You opened the chat to see shat she messaged, “You’re sooo gorgeous, surprised you had some interest in me”, major flattery, yet it worked. You guys ended up texting for a bit, just small talk and getting to know each other a little bit, before you offered her your number/socials because why not?! After that you guys just clicked.

ꕥ You guys finally decided to hang out in person after what felt like endless calls, and texting. She offered you to come on a trail with her, since it (in her words) will be good vibes and you can chat, all while enjoying pretty scenery. You being the crushing dumdum you are, wholeheartedly said yes. That’s how you ended up walking from the parking lot to the trailhead head to meet this beautiful girl finally.

⤍ “Abby?”, you state with a slight lilt, as she was on her phone waiting for you to meet her. She immediately turned her attention to you, as you came closer giving you a big smile. “Hey pretty! So happy you decided to hang with me.” You give her a twice over, eyeing her strong frame, clad in a simple tank and sweats, with her signature braid she does. You didn’t want to stare, so you quickly averted your gaze back up to her.

She shifted her weight, giving you a smile, “I feel like you’ll love this trail, it's not too long and birds are always perching around here.”

“You come up here often?” You ask, as you two begin on the start of the trail

“Well not this specific trail, I tend to do the harder trails every once in a while tho.” She explains, slyly wrapping an arm around your waist, as she feels comfortable around you. Wasn’t helping you focus much, but god you swear you were in fem heaven right now. Basically your thoughts the entire day.

ꕥ You two hung out so much after that, at her apartment, yours, many outings… then those hangouts turned into dates. It was very clear Abby wasn’t much of a ‘rush into things’ kinda girl, and you really appreciated that. It was refreshing, and made you fall for her just a tad (a lot) more.

⤍ After a few dates, you two made it official. You were originally going to ask her out, because why not? But she beat you to it when she asked you to be hers on a non suspicious... very romantic date.

ꕥ You two are going strong, healthy, and happy. You never thought you’d get so lucky to be with someone like her, and you know she feels the same way about you, she shows it.

Dynamics; how a relationship works, the hinge and oil. You and Abby’s relationship was comforting, she wouldn’t trade you for the world; because to her, you’re her universe. Abby is your rock, solid and always there, and you are like water, smoothing down her sharp edges gently with care.

my first ever tumblr post! i have many ideas, but i’m just indecisive so i decided to ramble about reader meeting abby. <3

[ijustbewriting]

A man who yearns is a man who earns

Wolfstar X fem!reader

Summary - In which Remus and Sirius quietly ( not really) yearn for the reader

Warnings : none, (delusional Sirius), shy reader I guess

A//N My first Wolfstar fic !

Word count: 1.2k

“ I want her so bad” Sirius groans softly watching as you laugh along with Lily and Marlene. Remus who had been reading had promptly stopped as he had watched his boyfriend look at the girl who they had both been crushing on as of late. You were in the same year as them, a beautiful and smart Ravenclaw who just so happened to waltz in the boys life and change them forever.

“If you keep starting at her she’ll think you’re a creep” Remus tells his boyfriend

“She’ll think about me !” Sirius gasps, Remus shakes his head at his gasp

“ You really need to stop”

“Why won’t she look at us “ Whines Sirius sitting next down next to Remus who was quick to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him closer.

“Don’t know love” He plants a kiss on his neck making Sirius shiver.

“Do you think she even knows our names” The young Gryffindor pouts.

In all honesty Y/N did know Remus and Sirius, how could she not? The famous group, the marauders. Known for pulling pranks and bringing fun to Hogwarts, it was hard to miss such a group.

Remus and Sirius especially, god were they gorgeous. Remus with his beautiful brown eyes that seemed to be lit by the sun itself, his curly hair that was always curled to perfection, his old soul which was so kind and oh Merlin’s beard was he so smart. The few classes she had with him where she would hear him answer the professors question’s correctly and even sometimes add even more information made her Ravenclaw heart swoon.

Sirius Black, oh Sirius Black. He captivated everyone’s heart. His unique grey eyes and long hair, and that smile. That Sirius Black smile. Charming is what he is, suave with his words having anyone flustered and blushing when Sirius would flirt with them. Everyone wanted him or wanted to be him. But only Remus Lupin was lucky enough to have a slice of whatever Sirius was offering but god did he want top give a piece to you.

You the beautiful creature who captured their hearts when Lily walked into the common room that fateful day. You both were working on a project for Potions. Both of them were awestruck by you. Swearing they had never seen someone as beautiful as you. They knew then and there that they wanted you, the question was how?

It seemed like any time that they wanted to see you, you were scurrying away, off to the library, your dorm or somewhere else where they could not reach you.

One time when Sirius was walking with James after heading back from quidditch practice. Then a sudden figure zoomed right past them, it was you. Sirius blinked and he turned to look at you as you left, he wanted to say something but by gods were you quick. As you turned the corner and disappearing from his sight he promptly fell to his knees.

“Come back my love PLE-“

As you had turned the corner, you stopped swearing that you had heard something

“Must of been the wind” you muttered to yourself.

It was not in fact the wind but none other than Sirius Black dramatically on his knees clutching his chest, the other hand reaching out for you.

“Mate get up this is embarrassing” James muttered

Truth is- you’re painfully shy. Having a crush on Remus Lupin and Sirius Black the it couple right next to Lily and James was painful, for so many reasons. One being the most obvious, they’re both together and you were no home wrecker. Two you could not imagine even being friends with them. They were so different from you, in a good way.

While you were more quiet and reserved, staying in your dorm to read and study. You enjoyed your me time more than anything. Parties at Hogwarts were something you rarely attended, given the fact that you didn’t drink or dance. The few times you did go was because a friend’s or Lily had dragged you. You would see both boys at these parties and they were the life of the party there was no way they would look over at you and want you, at least that’s what you’ve told yourself thus far.

It was far from the truth. Remus and Sirius both yearned for you silently or at least remus did, Sirisu was alwasy loud about those he cared about.

But enough was enough, both of them decided that they were going to get your attention one way or another.

As you exited you class, you sighed as you slinged your bag on your shoulder, the bag was heavy a reminder of all the homework you had to do.

"Ok I finish reading chapters one through twenty and then I can start my essay and give my self enough time-" you muttered to yourself but promptly stopped as your eyes landed on two figures. Remus and Sirius. Quickly and without blinking you turned your heel and began to walk the other way.

"No wait- hold on love" you heard Sirius voice as he catched up to you, now this is the one time you cursed Sirius and Remus's great hieght becasue with a couple of strides they had already caught up to you.

"Dove please" Remus said almost pleadingly. The nickname made you stop walking. The boys both next to you.

"Merlin's beard, your worse than a snitch, I don't even think James would be able to catch you" Sirius huffed in light laughter, Remus smiled soflty.

"We've been looking for you " said Remus

"You have?" you responed in a quiet voice

"yes love, for what feels like an eternity-"

"two months" Remus corrected

"felt like forver to me" huffed Sirius his lips almost pouting

"what for?" you ask

"well we wanted to ask you something actually" Remus started

"We want you so bad" blurted Sirius, now that made you completely freeze up.

"Sirius we said we were going slow" hissed Remus, swatting his partner gently on the shoulder.

"I can't- this will not be a slow burn love, I will not allow it" He shakes his head before grabbing your hand.

"Love, please we've been going crazy without you, you drive us insane and we want you in all ways possible, please let us treat you right, we won't ever hurt you and your days will be filled with love and passion-"Sirius's love declaration was cut of by his boyfriend.

"Pads you're scaring her" He says as he had been wacthing your reaction and it was all wide eyed and he wore you had stopped breathing for a moment. Sirius quickly shut up, the quickest Remus had ever seen him. After a moment of silence you finally spoke.

"You want me- you both want me ?" you sputtered finally breathing again

"Most ardently" Remus answered. You look between both boys, whom you've had been crushing onf for so long, who you had never ever in your life believed that they would ever look at you in that way but here they were. Sirius basically on his knees begging you to talk and Remus with his beautiful eyes asking, no pleading for a positive response. You drew in a deep breathe before answering.

"I want you guys too" You confess

"Praise Merlin and David Bowie she said yes Remus!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Yes I heard her love thank you" chuckled Remus who was now looking you fondly. Sirius who was still holding your hand gave it a small squeeze.

"Did you hear how Remus pulled a Mr. Darcy on you "

[vieoeil-riae]

steb with a breeding kink thoughts <3

warnings: fem!reader, breeding kink, pregnancy mentions, established relationship, mild lactation kink???, written on my phone 💀, 18+ MDNI, drabble (I think)

masterlist

he's a stand up guy, so of course he had a soft spot for the idea of having kids with you! before, you weren't really in the position to - and he was too responsible to give into the temptation no matter how idyllic you looked helping some kid who got lost in the park or playing with a relative's toddler.

but it's different now, you'd settled into his life quite nicely - loathe to leave - you'd made that quite clear over the years and it still managed to make his heart flutter every time you reminded him.

it was why steb was currently hot under the collar asking if you'd want a kid with him, more than he had anticipated. it was like his blood turned molten when you gave him a wide eyed, loving stare and a breathy 'yes.'

self control wasn't much of a factor anymore, hissing at the feeling of your hot, slick cunt around him - the feeling more intense than usual without the condom - and he could feel himself blushing down to his neck, gills flaring with each inch he pushed into you. you were so wet; it didn't take long at all before pussy-drunk fog took over his faculties.

beautiful, gorgeous, unbearably hot, your tits jiggled lewdly with his thrusts - your legs slung over his shoulders. the squelch of your cunt was obscene.

it was like a switch flipped when you started begging him to put a kid in you, whiny pleas tumbling from your lips - slurred with pleasure. steb's pace stuttered, face frills standing on end, his whole body going tense until enough sense filtered back into his brain for him to start fucking you harder, deeper.

fucking his come back into you sounded so dirty, and so appealing, and he shivered at the thought - his cock pulsing at the idea, cock frills dragging along your gummy walls in a way that had you moaning and clenching around him. you'd look so blissful carrying his child; such a pretty, perfect mother.

your legs were pushed further - large, warm hands gripping at your thighs hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. you could feel his cock head brush up against your cervix with each thrust, and it was dizzying to see the fucked out look on your face.

steb took you nipple between his lips; they'd be so swollen and sore while you were pregnant. utterly inappropriately, the thought of milk leaking from your heavy tits made his hips jerk, a pang of pleasure shaking through him.

fuck, coming inside you - your warm cunt still pulsing around him from the orgasm he'd all but insisted you had first - was heaven itself. the sounds that came with his desperate rutting were filthy, the wet schlick of your juices and his hot come.

you gasped sharply when he refused to stop, oversensitive but starting to unravel in much the same way as steb; thinking about how sweet the thought of him being a father was, how good he'd be, how many more times he'd have to fuck you until you were pregnant.

you shared a kiss, sloppy, sex-dazed, but meaningful even though he was pumping his come into your cunt again. it was a promise: a stable little life with you <3

A/N: not kidding it was written on my phone in 20 minutes u can probably tell but like I don't even want kids and I'm writing this wtf

[phoebefrench]

Slowly, like honey

Summary: She often heard that photography would lead her to nowhere. In retrospect, it became clear that many simply lacked the ability to recognize the beauty that surrounded them. Fortunately, she had two people in her life who truly understood and celebrated every facet of her being.

Featuring: Charles Leclerc x Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Google translate used for the french and dutch

All Y/N wanted to do when she got back to Max's apartment was curl up in bed and take the world's longest nap. It all started when she woke this morning an hour past her alarm, her boyfriends already gone, and she spilt coffee all over herself while rushing into her digital photography class. Walking through the front door, she was greeted by the sound of cooking in the kitchen and light talking. She slowly walked to the kitchen, stopping to pet Sassy and continuing on. Before making it all the way, arms wrapped behind her slightly scaring her as she was suddenly turned around. Closing her eyes and catching the scent of her boyfriend, she relaxed into his arms. "Hi Char," she mumbled. Slowly letting go, he responded "Mon chéri, how was your day?" She sighed, the day hitting her like a truck as tears starting welling in her eyes faster than she could stop them. His eyes tracked her face quickly, trying to figure out what was wrong, "Chéri, what happened, what's wrong?" Max, hearing the slight commotion and the suddenly worsening tears turned sobs, rushed out. He quickly walked to the two of them, taking her into his arms, "Schatje, come here. What's wrong, hmm?" She buries her head into his chest and just lets it all out, "It's so silly, everything that could have went wrong today went wrong. I slept passed my alarm after you both left, I spilt my coffee all down the front of my shirt, and on the way home I realized I left my portfolio at my desk in class." Max and Charles shared a look over her head and started silently figuring out how they could fix this. Charles starts by moving them to the kitchen, “how about we eat dinner and move onto the living room for a movie, hmm?“ Nodding she sits down, allowing them to dish the pasta Max had made, smiling slightly when they sat down as a bowl was put in front of her. They ate dinner silently, with both boys giving her some time to process her day without overwhelming her. Moving onto the couch, Max to her right and Charles directly to the left, both holding her tightly to them does she finally start to calm down. “How was your guys day?” She asked looking up at them both. Charles looked down and grinned, “Just another media day, mon cheri.” Max hummed in agreement, adding “It was an endless amount of people asking of us the same things,” he continued “did you get to work more on your project?” “Yes, I’ve finally figured out a location for the shoot and I’m excited to actually start shooting next week!” She responded, perking up at the fact that she was another day closer to presenting this project and have everyone see what she has been working hard on. Max and Charles both smiled, satisfied with the fact that their girlfriend seemed to being cheering up, and that they would soon see the gallery that their talented Y/N has been working hard on. “I can’t wait to see them, you have to tell us the date so we can make sure to be there,” Max stated. Charles nodded his head in agreement, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She nodded, her eyes slowly closing as the movie in the background got quieter, “You both are the best thing to ever happen to me” while snuggling down deeper into them. Max and Charles looked at each other, smiles shared as they responded, “Us too, love.” Just this moment was enough to completely erase all the small things that had piled up throughout her day as she thought about how lucky she was to have these amazing boys both with her as she slowly fell asleep.

———————————————————————————

This is my first time ever publishing fanfiction! Please let me know any suggestions, but please be nice!

I will take requests!

Should I make this a series?

[princessfbi]

48?

48. Rampage

Evan Buckley was on a rampage. A stress, anxiety fueled, chronic overthinking headache, probably hangry induced rampage. Not to mention exhausted.

Eddie was just waiting for the inevitable crash to come. He had money on it being in the middle of reorganizing their closet or when he decided to change out the bedding in their guest bedroom for the third time.

The strong arm that curled around his shoulders didn’t have to work very hard to get him to move and he sighed as he let Tommy pull him down until Eddie’s back was pressed to his chest and his arms were wrapped around his middle.

“Should we be concerned yet?” Tommy asked as he pressed a kiss to Eddie’s temple.

The vacuum cleaner blared on again with a whine.

“Not yet. But if he starts muttering about making another trip to IKEA, I get his arms and you get his legs!”

Eddie felt the huff of Tommy’s laugh and sank into his embrace as their legs tangled together.

“When I told you two to make the house your own, I don’t think I was expecting quite so many designs of cutlery.”

That had been an adorable if not mildly frustrating meltdown to watch from Buck as he stressed over which of their silverware to use for dinner as if anyone would be looking. But whenever either one of them tried to mention it, a spoon was wielded at them while red rimmed eyes begged them to be serious. It wasn’t until Tommy had thrown Buck over his shoulder and carried him up the stairs to their bedroom that he managed to get any sleep.

Of course that had been after they’d both taken their turns with him with the mission to make Buck forget the entire English language let alone the word salad fork but the point was he got some sleep.

Eddie would just be glad when the stupid holiday was over.

“I’m surprised you’re not more stressed out,” Tommy murmured in his ear and Eddie drummed his finger on Tommy’s forearm.

“My parents aren’t…” Eddie breathed out a sigh. “I never once questioned if they loved me. My pops and I could scream at each other until we were hoarse and my mom really knows how to just take you out at the knees. But I knew they loved me.”

The figure of his stressed out boyfriend passed the doorway as Buck obsessively vacuumed behind the cabinets.

“He didn’t have that. It was always a question for him. This is the first time he’s going to be the center of attention with them.”

Which was why they were in the middle of an Evan Buckley hurricane. One dinner. One Thanksgiving. One meal where Buck and his parents are sitting down without Maddie as a buffer and they were there for Buck. To see his new home, his new life, his new everything.

Same for Eddie.

It just made sense to get the holiday and the introduction to their new life to their parents. Surprisingly, neither of their parents seemed surprised when they told them about each other and Tommy; about how they were incomplete without the other and it just… made sense. Eddie flat out refused to call them a throuple. It sounded like a stupid Instagram trend. Buck was his boyfriend. Tommy was his boyfriend. Eddie was theirs. Boyfriends. A family, Buck had suggested and neither of them let go of Tommy until that wet sheen over his eyes went away.

Still, Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little bad that his and Buck’s folks were getting special treatment while none of Tommy’s family would be in attendance.

“I am not subjecting either of you to any of the Kinard clan ever if I can help it.” Tommy had said when they’d brought it up and that had been the end of that discussion.

Still, it had been Tommy’s house first. He probably hadn’t meant to invite Buck and Eddie’s familial drama along with their furniture when he asked them to move in with him.

Tommy made a noise that Eddie couldn’t quite place even as his arms tightened around Eddie’s middle.

“He says they’re trying,” Tommy said and Eddie forced himself to push down his own feelings so he didn’t color Tommy’s experience with the Buckley’s.

He deserved to make his own opinions.

“They are… in their own way.”

Still, Eddie had been the one who had seen the way their secret had gutted Buck from the inside out and made him question everything he’d ever known. Eddie had been the one who had heard Margaret tear the nursing staff and Philip into a new one when they suggested she rest while Buck had been in the coma. Eddie had been the one to bite his tongue instead of asking her why suddenly she could care now and not when Buck was conscious and needed to hear it. Eddie had been the one to see Buck question over and over again why he was the one who lived, why he deserved to be there, and all those moments of doubts stemmed from them.

They were trying but Eddie wasn’t sure he was quite ready to forgive yet.

[annymation]

Sonic Movie 4 Theory 💙

Hey guys! Since Sonic Movie 3 has been consuming my brain, specially that post credits scene, I’ve decided to write down my predictions to what will happen in the next movie.

I’ll probably be wrong, but that’s ok, theories are not meant to be 100% accurate, they’re just fun to make, and I’ve came up with some ideas that I really wanna share, feel free to share your own theories in the comments or add whatever you think might make my theory even better.

Alright, let’s begin

What can we learn from Amy’s first appearance?

So from the little time we get from her we can catch a few things:

1. She already has plenty of fighting experience against these Metal Sonics

2. Her hammer is futuristic looking

3. She has a hooded cape, like, she’s not meant to be seen by anyone else

4. This last one is important: Her smile implies she already knows Sonic

With all of that in mind, I believe this Amy is from the future, but as I’ll explain, she’s not from far away in the future, rather… She’s from the time Sonic Movie 4 ends.

That’ll make sense in a sec, probably, I hope so, we'll see.

To make this theory make sense, first, imma talk about where I got my inspiration for it… Soooo

Have you guys watched Howl’s Moving Castle?

The Howl’s Moving Castle paradox theory✨

That’s how I’m calling my theory by the way, since it was what inspired the whole idea of it.

So, to explain my theory, I’ll have to give yall a mild spoiler of this Studio Ghibli movie, in case you haven’t watched it, it’s surprisingly not a big deal in the narrative but in any case, you’ve been warned.

Still here? Good, so here's the spoiler

At the end of Howl’s Moving Castle, we get a scene Sophie goes back in time, she sees past Howl, and screams to him, asking him to come find her in the future, as she’s being sucked in back to present day

This scene gives new meaning to the scene at the start of the movie when Howl “first met” Sophie, and he said:

Soooo why am I bringing this up? Well, I believe Amy is having the same role Sophie had in that movie, and of course, Sonic is getting Howl’s role, but, while in Howl’s Moving Castle we followed Sophie’s point of view, in Sonic 4, it's like we're following Howl's POV, or in this case, Sonic's.

You might already have an idea where I’m going with this.

Where Is Present Amy?

As I've mentioned, I believe that Amy we saw at the post credits scene is from the future, well, that begs the question, where is the Amy from the NOW?

That's up to Sonic to find out.

Just like how Sophie was forcefully brought back to her time after meeting past Howl, I believe this Amy will disappear too, because she can’t stay in that point in time for too long, but before disappearing, she’ll ask Sonic to look for her in their home planet, which we'll be referring to as Mobius.

However, before she can tell him specifically where he can find her, her time will run out. Future Amy will be gone, leaving behind a very confused blue hedgehog, and one sack of rings.

Before she left, all she had time to tell Sonic was “find me on planet mobius, on the island-“ and then she was gone in a poof of green sparkles reminiscent of the green stars we see when time traveling in Sonic CD.

With that as their only clue, Sonic, Tails and Knuckles will have a very hard time finding her, considering that the whole planet is full of islands.

South Island, Christmas Island, Cocoa Island, Starfall Islands, West Side Island and MANY many more.

But despite the odds not being in their favor, they go anyway, with backpacks full of snacks for the trip of course, and the rings Future Amy left behind.

We’d get, let’s say, a 3 minutes montage accompanied with music of the boys going through various Game locations, from both old and new Sonic games, and probably some much needed lore exposition from Knuckles and Tails, with Sonic being amazed by the planet he never got to know more about.

That’d satisfy fans that want to see more game lore stuff while also not costing the animators that much to design all the anthropomorphic animal characters in the background and so on.

Of course, it’s not easy finding a pink hedgehog among millions of other animal people in a whole planet, but Sonic doesn’t care, he gotta know who she was, and how she can help them deal with those knock-off robot versions of him, they may strike again at any moment... Also she was really pretty but that surely is unrelated to why he wants to find her so much *cough cough*

So, to make matters worse, the wind blows away a sketch Sonic had made of Amy to help them identify her, it falls on a lake, but, much to the boys luck, it’s pulled out of the water by a fishing hook… And they encounter a certain big friendly purple cat.

Yeah, I know this is getting into fanfic territory, but hey, with the little info I have currently I kinda have to make stuff up, plus, the writers have shown interest in inserting Big the Cat in these movies for a WHILE now, but never got a good excuse to do it. This is my take on how they could implement him into the narrative in a natural way, that wouldn't just make the 3D modelers make a whole BIG character to be a blink and you'll miss it reference in the background.

Back to the plot, Big gives them the sketch back, but with it being all wet, they don’t have much hope left that they’ll ever find the girl they’re looking for. Big laments that their drawing got ruined, and as they’re leaving he casually adds “It was a really good drawing of Amy, I’m sure she’d like it”

Their ears perk up as they quickly turn to the cat, and Big confirms he does know her, they’re neighbors, and she was currently on an adventure of her own, apparently looking for some kind of “destined encounter” as she had put it. Big gives them the location where they can find her.

Which would be riiiiiiiight here

I believe this location is called Never Lake, but Idk if it's canon or just an Archie Comics thing, either way, I'm calling it Never Lake.

Anyway this segment is already getting pretty long so I’ll make this brief, Sonic finds Amy, on his own, Knuckles and Tails went to different sides of the island to look for her, it’s important their first meeting is just the two of them.

I have three ideas to how this first meeting could go:

When he finds her, she could either be on her own, distracted as she checks her tarot cards and Sonic awkwardly interrupts it, startling her, making the cards flow away in the wind, to which Sonic catches them quickly, which both impresses Amy and proves to her the cards were right, she got her destined encounter.

2. Alternatively, she could not be alone, she was being attacked by a group of hooligans *cough cough* Fang, Bean and Bark *cough cough* and Sonic proceeds to save her while being a lil a snarky trickster and making her laugh during the whole rescue.

Either one of these first encounter ideas works for me because both set up Amy being certain Sonic is the one her cards told her about, however, even though seeing more mobian characters and get a cute scene of Sonic fighting bad guys is cool, I do prefer option number one, for reasons that will become more clear in a sec.

. . .

Ok the sec is over, the reason is because I think another Metal Sonic would show up and try to kidnap Amy and having her being rescued twice is redundant, his motivation? Some version of her from a different point in time just wrecked a whole army of them of course, so he's trying to get her before she can become that future self (time travel sure is messy to write but work with me here)

Sonic, now accompanied with Tails and Knuckles defeat him, preferably also with Amy's help so we can get some main 4 action we've been waiting for, and now, they got a deactivated Metal Sonic laying on the floor, ready for Tails to take to his workshop (aka the garage) and figure out where, or rather, when this thing came from, get some memory files, and most importantly, find out how it time travels.

Gathering all that data, Tails is able to unlock the secrets of time travel, and also he figures out that changing the past will not change the future this Metal Sonic comes from, how is that? Welp, let me explain

How Will Time Travel Work?

In science fiction there are 3 types of time travel theories:

The Fixed Timeline

The Dynamic Timeline

The Multiverse

For this theory, we are going with the idea Sonic 4 will follow the rules of the Multiverse Theory

Don't let that name fool you, I'm not saying we gonna get Sonics from other universes crossing over like game Sonic, boom Sonic, Sanic or whatever, no, here's how it works:

According to this theory, when a time traveler journeys to the past, or future, they do not travel within their own timeline but rather to a parallel timeline. This means that any actions taken in the past do not affect their original timeline, thereby avoiding paradoxes.

Think of it this way, let's say you have two choices, you can choose between going to the mall or staying home, in one timeline you chose to stay home, in the other you went to the mall, in this theory, those two timelines still exist as different universes, like a river dividing in two different directions, the choices we make create different branching timelines.

I think a fun way Tails could explain this to the group would be using the logic of video games, like, imagine he explaining while geeking out and we get visuals referencing classic Sonic games.

In a video game, there's two ways a level can go, you either pass, or you get a game over, now, what happens when you get a game over? As in, what happens in the game's story, well, the bad guy wins, but that doesn't really matter since you can just restart and try again, right? Right, at the end of the game we always end with the "timeline" where the hero didn't die at all, but, what about those alternative timelines we DID get a game over?

Tails explains that he believes these robot versions of Sonic come from an alternative timeline where Sonic DID get a "game over", thus creating a "Bad Future".

By saying "game over" Tails would't be implying Sonic died btw, he believes Sonic just got captured in this alternative future and needs some help heheh how naive what, who said that?

Anyway, now that we got the logistics of time travel, I guess it's about time we address the metallic hedgehog in the room.

What's The Deal With Metal Sonic(s)

So, from the little we've seen from Metal in that post credit scene, one thing is certain, he wanted Sonic dead.

That to me at least kinda confirms the movie will work with the Multiverse logic in mind, because otherwise, if Metal were to kill past Sonic then the events in the timeline would change drastically, that is, if we were going with a Dynamic timeline where past events affect the future. In the Multiverse theory, killing Sonic in that moment would simply create a new timeline where Sonic just went for a race with Tails and Knuckles, disappeared and never came back home, a new bad future.

And that, my friends, is what I think those Metal Sonic's were trying to do, going back in time to different moments where Sonic was alone, distracted and helpless, just to eliminate him over and over and over again, creating a bunch of branching timelines where Sonic get's his game over, by an enemy he doesn't even know.

Think of it as Metal taking the "There can only be one Sonic" thing to the next level, there can only be one timeline where a Sonic wins, and that Sonic is ME.

It makes sense right? At least I think it does, you tell me.

I'm working with what we've seen so far, all we got was Sonic distracted and all alone, then Metal showing up like the Exterminator, indicating he's from the future, put those two informations together and my brain says "Metal is going back in time to kill Sonic in all the moments in his life he was alone and distracted"....... My brain is kinda crazy tho ngl.

And with the little information we got I'm about to go even crazier as I explain what lead to Metal's creation.

I'm still pondering how Eggman would work in this theory, I'm torn between just saying he died and Shadow survived and crash landed because he's just THAT durable, or, both him and Shadow time traveled to the future through Chaos Control. Either way, sounds good, I'm undecided, but let's say Agent Stone started to work on Metal Sonic first, then a few years later Robotnik just popped up again in the narrative because Shadow just made a Chaos Control that took them to the future actually, so they're fiiiiiine, this is the part of the theory I'm least sure of.

Events That Lead To The Bad Future

In this segment I'll describe what I believe happens in the alternative timeline Metal Sonic comes from, all the following events would be narrated through exposition and flashbacks, not actually play out in the movie for too long, just thought it was important to make that clear.

After the events of Sonic 3, Stone spiraled down into deep resentment towards Team Sonic, believing it's Sonic's fault for the doctor slowly going insane and ultimately resulting in his supposed death.

So, he decides to finish what the doctor started, by creating a robot that could not only match, but also surpass Sonic.

We know from Sonic 2 that Stone has at the very least SOME knowledge of technology, he changed a whole coffee shop into a secret base. However, even though he is skilled, I don't think Stone could ever make Metal Sonic on his first try (Nor Eggman honestly)

So he started with prototypes, sending them to cause havoc so Sonic and friends would fight them, and he could collect more data about how Sonic fights

And each time, model after model, Sonic would always beat these "knockoff" Sonics, and each time, they'd come back improved, but never good enough to defeat them.

Perfect opportunity for us to get a flashback or exposition with these guys being these prototypes

Years go by, let's say, 5 years, with Sonic now being 20 years old, Knuckles is 21 and Tails is 13, and in between that time Eggman and Shadow also came back through Shadow's Chaos Control (Again, this is the part of the theory I'm most iffy about, could use some ideas from ya'll).

So far the future is bright for the boys, they went through many adventures together, are way more skilled and fought so many pesky robots it's practically a game for them at this point.

It's not a game for prototype Metal though, who has retained the memories of all his defeats, every single time Sonic has mocked him with a cheeky grin, every failure, reminding him he's not good enough.

From that, something sparks inside of Metal's programing...

Hatred.

He's tired of this vicious cycle, tired of following orders from both Eggman and Stone. However, he's still confined by his programming, an un-willing servant who wants to break free but simply can't.

Until one day, Metal get's a whole new look, as usual, he's sent to fight Sonic and friends, once again as he always does... But something different happens.

He manages to disobey.

When Eggman orders Metal to attack Sonic, Metal decides a diferent strategy, and attacks Tails instead, knowing that Sonic would throw himself in front of his little brother to protect him, and indeed that's what happens... Metal did't miss his shot.

For the first time in one of these battles Sonic got injured, not seriously injured but enough to impress Eggman, shock Stone and give Metal a huge boost in his confidence, and mainly his ego.

The villains get away, with Stone now worried with how Metal seems to be deviating from his programing and wanting to do things his own way, while Eggman is just over the moon knowing Metal's artificial intelligence has advanced so much, he decides to go a step further, giving Metal more freedom to do as he pleases without the need of commands, and also uses Sonic's quill to power him even more, announcing their little project is out of beta, and Metal Sonic is their final design.

Little did they know, Metal had other plans.

Neo Metal Takeover

Yeah you've read the title, you knew it was coming, I need this boy in the movies very badly.

Basically, Metal Sonic upgraded himself, gave himself a voice, an identity, seeing himself as Sonic perfected, a Sonic that wasn't held back by fear of losing his loved ones nor bound by any morals. He was Neo Metal Sonic.

Just like in Sonic heroes, Neo rebels against Eggman and Agent Stone, and goes to defeat Sonic his own way, in a permanent way that would finally put an end to the endless cycle.

They put up a good fight, but ultimately, Sonic in a trapped, Neo Metal wins, he has Sonic right where he wants him and Tails and Knuckles can only watch, he's ready to give the killing blow... But... Sonic doesn't look defeated.

He smiles... That same determined smile Metal has seen over and over again, and in fact, Sonic doesn't even look at Neo at all, he just turns to Tails, eyes full of hope as he says "It's up to you now, I'm counting on you"

He probably would say something to Knuckles too but in true middle child mocking older sibling fashion he'd just go "You better beat this piece of scrap metal or I'm SOOOO gonna come back as a ghost to haunt you"

So yeah anyway, alternative future Sonic dies, rip, Tails, Knuckles and Shadow (bet you forgot he was alive) all fail to defeat Neo because dude can just copy abilities and also he made a bunch of Metal Sonic clones.

He proceeds to take over the world under the disguise of Eggman (because just like in Heroes he can shapeshift) following exactly how the doctor envisioned the world, dominated by machines and pollution, sooooooo yeah, we get our Bad Future! Uhuuuuul!

You'd think after all that Neo would be satisfied, right? He'd just lay back and enjoy his world domination... But nope! He couldn't accept that in Sonic's final moments the hedgehog still had that gleam of hope in his eyes. Neo didn't win, not really, because he never got to break Sonic's spirit.

Neo decides to fix that.

Now, I don't know how they gonna deal with the means Time Travel is activated, it could be with the Time Stones like in Sonic CD, but I don't know where Neo could find those, or, it could be with the Chaos Emeralds like it is in Sonic 06. Either way, the point is that Neo figured out how to time travel, and he chose to use that power to be the ultimate hater.

So, we circle back to where we've started, when I said Metal Sonic is going back in time to different moments where Sonic was alone, just to kill him, over and over and over again.

Needles to say, Neo Metal Sonic got issues.

Of course it's not exactly HIM who is doing it, Neo is still in his empire in the bad future, while his clones are doing the job of killing a bunch of past Sonics, but still, they're all connected in the same network, like they're all the same character.

Sooo anyway, you might be wondering, where the heck is Amy?

So, Back To Amy

You may have noticed I didn't mention Amy at all during this whole explanation about how the bad future came to be, welp, that's because she's not from that timeline.

Now this is the part it's kinda confusing and I remind ya'll about the whole "Howl's Moving Castle" paradox I've mentioned in the beginning, logically it doesn't make much sense, but I'm looking at this in a POETIC way, like they were destined to meet and the stars aligned yadda yadda yadda that kind of stuff.

Logically, it doesn't make sense Howl met Sophie because her future self from a few days in the future told him to come find her in the future, since she only time traveled BECAUSE she met him in the first place, and yet, we don't question it, we just think it's cute.

The same way, in this theory, it doesn't make sense Sonic met Amy because her future self from a few days in the future told him to come find her in the present, since she only time traveled BECAUSE she met him in the first place, and yet, I'm asking you guys to not question it, we just think it's cute, and writing time travel sucks.

Anyway, so what do I think will be Amy's role in this story?

Well firstly, she falls for Sonic, that much I feel certain about, but her role won't be just fangirl and be all sticky, after being rescued from that Metal Sonic attack, she's HYPED to join Sonic and the others in this adventure, she wants to help them the best she can, even if her hammer is just a toy hammer (yeah she only get's the futuristic one later) and she's not as fast as Sonic, she still promises to not leave them until they defeat those robots, and thus, she fits right in with the team.

She's girly, enthusiastic, has a heart of gold, and most of all, she's optimistic.

Once Tails finishes building the time travel gizmo, which as I've mentioned before, could be on Sonic's shoes or a wrist watch, they're all set to go to this bad future, believing they can help their future selves deal with these robots.

However, Sonic can only time travel if he runs very fast for a long time, and he can't really do that carrying Amy, Tails & Knuckles on his arms, right?

So, Knuckles decides to stay behind, trusting on Amy to be the muscle of the team in his absence. Sonic carries Amy on his arms, while Tails holds tightly to his back. As Sonic runs, the speed builds and builds to the point sparkles start to glow around him, but, Sonic runs so fast, Tails can't hold on and... Tails let go and falls before they time traveled, being left behind in the present.

Sonic and Amy are on their own in the bad future, and Neo Metal Sonic couldn't be happier to get his second chance.

With that said... I'm gonna stop here.

Final Notes

I could go on detailing how I think the events would play out from here, but I'll just summarize with a few bullet points:

As soon as Sonic and Amy get to the bad future they're already chased down and captured, and Sonic loses the gizmo that allows him to time travel, thus they're trapped there for a good chunck of the movie.

Tom and Maddie are still in this story, in the first act they support the boys going to their homeworld to find Amy, giving them snacks for the trip and just asking them to be careful. They help out Tails when he's making his time travel gizmo, and in the second act, we see them in the bad future, along with other humans who are trying to hide from Neo Metal, like a kind of resistance group.

Throughout the narrative, Amy with her positivity would be the source of hope Sonic needs in order to overcome all the pain he'll endure seeing this horrible future. No matter how bad things get, Amy believes in him, and in turn Sonic believes in himself, even if his future self lost, that Sonic didn't have an Amy, so there's still a chance.

Sonic also helps Amy in her own character journey, she doesn't see herself as a heroine, and is deeply insecure about her future, hence why she's so interested in tarot cards, so she can be sure of what's gonna happen next, however, Sonic teaches her to see her own value, and how amazing she already is in the present. They both highlight the best parts of one another.

You may be wondering where Tails, Knuckles and Shadow are in this bad future. Well ya'll might hate me for this, but I do like a good cliche, and it sure is a cliche that in dystopian alternate future you see your loved ones turned into mind controlled robot versions of themselves... Yeah

What can I say? I love some angst. Also, it would be a neat callback to the roboticization thing from the Archie Comics.

Shadow wouldn't be roboticized, he'd be locked up by Neo. Sonic and Amy find him and free him, we get a heartwarming moment where Sonic is relieved he's alive, and they get at least one ally that can help them figure out how to fix all this mess.

6. Eggman and Stone could be locked up along with Shadow, and I can only imagine how pissed off Sonic would be seeing the doctor again, I need Shadow and Amy holding him while Eggman comedically runs away scared.

7. Climax of the movie would be Neo and Sonic having a race for the Master Emerald, and just to prove he doesn't need any upgrades to beat Sonic he reverts back to his original smaller form we all know as Metal Sonic. The race is actually a distraction so Amy, Shadow, Eggman and other human characters can free Tails and Knuckles from their roboticized state. Of course, Sonic wins, Neo get's mad and almost emotional about the fact he can't even beat a younger version of his "loathsome copy" in a race. Sonic tries to reach out to him and reassure him he doesn't have to be perfect (or some other kind of lesson like that), and extends a hand just like he has done to his two other rivals in the past... Neo Metals says "naaaaah f*** that" and grabs the Master Emerald, turning himself into Metal Overlord, and THEN we get our final climax.

Obviously Sonic wins, all the metal sonics were controlled by Neo so they deactivate when he's destroyed. But before Sonic goes back to his time, Tails, now conscious, points out that the shenanigans Neo Metal pulled with time travel has created a bunch of divergent timelines where Metal Sonics have killed Sonic in the past, which is pretty bad for the time stream as a whole.

Amy offers herself to time travel to the same points in time these Metal Sonics went, saying she can defeat them before they hurt Sonic in any timeline. It's too risky for Sonic to do that himself, since if he's seen or touched by any of his past selves it could be a bit troublesome.

Soooo yeah, that's what Amy was doing in the post credit scene, just doing a clean sweep of all the Metals who tried to hurt her darling Sonic. Using a hammer that future Tails designed that allows her to time jump directly to all those Metals, but she can't stay in those points in time for too long.

And with that, I think we're done.

Final Thoughts

Although I'm happy with this theory I do recognize the chances of it being right are VERY low.

The tone of these movies is quite different from all of this, the implications of Sonic dying, even if not shown of screen, might be a bit too much for Paramount to accept, and even SEGA honestly.

But hey, it happened in 06 so there's a small chance I suppose.

The point of this theory really is that I hope we get to SEE Amy develop into that Amy we saw in the post credits, and the idea of her going back in time to save Sonic over and over again just sounds very cute to me, for once she's the one saving him and not the other way around.

All in all, I hope you enjoyed this theory/almost fanfic. Please leave your opinion, constructive criticism and questions in the comments! Hope we can improve these ideas together!

Thank You For Reading!

[suugarbabe]

when Enzo smiles that sweet smile of his

warnings: major angst, like the most angst, cannot stress the angst

an: many many thanks to my hubs @musingsofahufflepuff for helping with concept creation, discussion, editing. i adore you

He’d been pursuing you for a few weeks now, in that way that only he can do. The first time Lorenzo Berkshire had asked you to hang out, you knew it was a double entendre for something more than just getting a butterbeer. And while you weren’t sure if it was your overall nerves that someone who looked as sweet and angelic as him was asking to hangout with you, or if you simply didn’t want to be another name added to his roster; you declined his offer. 

It was after that moment that you started to notice his presence a little more often. Not that it was hard to; his height definitely deterred him from being discrete in any manner whatsoever. Yet every time he asked to see you, you gave a variation of the same response: no. At this point it was a little bit of a game for you, maybe subconsciously assuming he would just give up since you weren’t as easy as his usual sexual conquests. 

But the rumor was that he hadn’t been seen with anyone else since he started pursuing you. That he only wanted you. So when he offered to carry your bag after your last lesson to dinner. You let him. And when he insisted on walking you from dinner to your dorm. You allowed it. Then, when he stood outside your dorm entrance and confessed that you were driving him crazy, that he was so attracted to you and he hadn’t felt like that for anyone, not truly, in a while, and would you please, just please, be his date for the Slytherin party that weekend. You said yes. 

And so you gathered with your friends to get ready, making sure to wear something that made you feel as attractive as you thought Enzo would agree with. When you stepped through the Slytherin entrance that night your stomach rose to your throat like you were on one of those muggle roller coaster rides. Even through the haze of smoke and party lighting you could tell the Slytherin common room screamed luxury. Black leather couches, emerald velvet drapery, gold accented everything. 

Your friends went to get drinks and you were highly debating an Irish goodbye. Your nerves were getting the best of you. How could sweet, lovely, angel Enzo want to meet you? Not only his looks, but his charm made him the talk of the school and you were sure that no one really even knew your name. It was very highly known that he had the ability to make any girl melt, his sweet demeanor even getting him and his friends out of a detention or two in the past. 

But before your thoughts could turn into action, Enzo found you. Wrapping an arm across your chest from behind, his lips ghosting against your skin as he whispers in your ear, “There you are, sweetness. Thought maybe you stood me up.” You assured him you hadn’t even had the thought. He asked you to meet his friends, saying yours would catch up with you guys soon. We’re always in the same place at these parties, they’re bound to find us sooner or later. Just come with me, I won’t hurt you, darling. I promise.

So you did. And you met his friends. Formally met his friends, at least two of them. You were well aware of who they were; and it made meeting them in this capacity all the more terrifying. Enzo says your name to his friends like they should already know it. Theo Nott’s eyes were like moonstone, clear and sharp as they stared down at you. His stare had this way of making you feel beneath him. He gave you the most subtle of nods when you were introduced, barely perceptible had you not been focusing so intently on each person you were presented in front of. 

Mattheo Riddle was someone you would have had to have been dead to not know. If there was a fight in a corridor, it was likely him. The scars across his eyebrow and cheekbone he wore like badges of honor. The one across his nose was still healing from a few weeks ago. When he smiled at you it felt like a predator looking at prey, your instincts telling you to run away. Both were very opposite from the golden retriever energy that Enzo seemed to exude and it had you wondering how he was such good friends with him. 

But Enzo’s hand on the small of your back kept you grounded. When he felt you tense from nervousness, he placed his hand on the back of your neck, thumb running a soothing path behind your ear. He could feel your pulse calm back down before stating he’d go and get you both a drink. He placed a kiss on the crown of your head before leaving you alone with serpents. 

“Come’ere,” Mattheo beckoned you over, patting the seat on the sofa next to him. And you went, sitting with space between the two of you that quickly disappeared as Mattheo scooted over and threw his arm over the back of the couch. “So…how’s your little spin with Berkshire going for ya?” the smirk was subtle on his lips. You plastered on a smile of your own, “Well this is the first time we’re really hanging out. But he’s really sweet.” 

Enzo’s friends found your responses quite funny, Theo breaking his stoic mold to huff a laugh and a smile. Mattheo narrowed his eyes with his grin, “Babe…you know Berk is really the worst out of all of us.” This time it was you laughing, nodding in mock agreement as you responded, “Oh yeah. I’m sure he’s just terrible.” You shook your head, “You’re funny, Mattheo.” 

Mattheo glanced over at Theo who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. Turning towards you fully, Mattheo took your hand in his, “I want you to look me in the eyes when I say this to you…Enzo can and will ruin your life if it suits him.” You bit your lip to contain your smile as you nodded, “Uh-huh, yeah. Thanks for the warning, Riddle.” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes, tossing your hand back in your lap as Enzo returned. He asked if everything was okay. Mattheo tossed two fingers in the air while you ensured him that his friends were playing nice while he was gone. 

Despite your earlier nerves, the rest of the party went on perfectly. Drinks flowed, your friends did eventually find you. You and Enzo even danced for a bit; he was terrible and it was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. He walked you back to your dorm, lacing his fingers with yours on the way. Your cheeks flushed at the motion, heart soaring more when he kissed you goodnight like a gentleman.

And it went on like this for a few weeks. This endearing, loving, sweet boy that was Enzo showering you with attention. Telling you lovely things in your ear. Fingers tracing patterns on your skin behind the privacy of the four poster curtains in his dorm. The domestic feeling of his arm slung over your shoulders while walking in the hall; a way of being labeled as his. 

So when he had to cancel several plans in a row, you started to feel a pit in your stomach. But your friends brushed it off. It was quidditch season. He was likely just busy with practice, exhausted after. He wasn’t purposely avoiding you. Surely he couldn’t be. 

Some nerves were calmed when he met up with you after lessons a few days later, walking with you to lunch and carrying your bag for you like he’s done so many times before. He kissed your cheek, stating he was going to sit with his friends and you should catch up with yours. You put on a smile, not wanting to beg for his attention…and did as he suggested. 

A few days after that you still hadn’t had much one on one time with him. Not like before. You hadn’t specifically had a discussion about hanging out with him after dinner, but you continued to walk the same way as he and his friends anyway. You’d done it before, you were in step with Enzo and the rest, it was fine. 

Mattheo continued his conversation, eyes only briefly glancing in your direction with a raised brow. You were none the wiser, but Enzo picked up on the subtlety. In what was likely the same unspoken language the others turned down the path to the dungeons while Enzo pulled you down another corridor. 

“What’re you doing?” Enzo was the first to speak, his arms crossed. Guarded. You shifted on your feet, his scrutinizing gaze making you feel uncomfortable, “I, erm…well..w-we just haven’t gotten to see much of each other this week so I thought..” 

Enzo held his hand up, halting your nervous ramble. He turned away from you, running his hands over his face and through his hair. “Fucking Salazar, you so fucking pathetic. Following me and my friends around. Don’t you have any of your own?” Your mouth dropped, taking a step back. You were at a loss for words, not knowing where this came from. Taking your silence as a response Enzo shook his head, “I’ve gotta go. Don’t follow me.” 

Two days later Enzo found you in the library, your favorite Honeydukes sweets in hand. An apology. For what he’d said. How he’d treated you. He said he didn’t mean it. That he was stressed out; his quidditch captain pushing them harder for the upcoming game. 

You forgave him. 

Because of course you did. And for a week or two it seemed like your Enzo, your sweet angel Enzo was back. Or at least trying to be. There were still times you didn’t hear from him at all. Or made plans and he just didn’t show up. But you rationalized those in your head. For one reason or another. 

But after three days of either not speaking to him, or him seemingly turning around in the corridor once you’d spotted him, you knew you needed to talk. 

You had waited until after curfew. Knowing that’s when he’d likely go to his spot if he were going to be there. Despite the burning in your lungs you treaded up the stairs to Astronomy Tower. When you reached the landing he was on, his back was facing you. He must have thought you were someone else because his voice sounded more lively than you’d heard it in weeks. 

“Matt, did you bring the–oh..it’s you,” Enzo’s face fell completely flat at the sight of you. And your heart shattered. “What’re you doing here?” there was a bit of sourness in his voice; it made your skin crawl. “I-I thought you’d be up here.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes, using his wand to light the joint he settled between his lips, “Well here I am, ten points to you for figuring out that treasure hunt.” You frowned, not understanding where this was all coming from. 

“Did I do something to you?” 

Enzo threw a half-hearted glance your way, eyebrows furrowing as an indication for you to go on. Or at least that’s what you thought. “Why are you being like this? Avoiding me, treating me like trash you’d tossed on the pavement. What did I do to you, Enz?” 

The corners of his mouth upturned slowly, a brief smirk flashing over his features as his tongue ran over his teeth. He looked nothing like the Enzo you knew. Each word he spoke next dripped with venom that felt like it was coating your soul.

“Oh..baby… did you think you were special? That you were different than every other body I use just to get off? What on earth would give you that idea, huh.. those pretty words I said in your ear? My lips trailing so delicately down your skin? Every last one before you got that, too. Didn’t you know?” 

He laughed, a low rumbling chuckle from deep in his soul that broke yours with every shake of his head, “You should see your face.” You back away from him, willing yourself not to cry despite the tears brimming your eyes. Not here, not in front of him. Not when he’s like this. 

You made quick work of the stairs on the way down, nearly flying sans broom to the bottom. Wiping your eyes, your vision was blocked, slamming into the body at the base of the steps and knocking you back on your ass. A non-committal ‘hmm’ came from above you and you chanced seeing who it might be. 

Glancing upward you were faced with both Mattheo and Theo; the first smirking while the second looked rather bored. “Berk finally cut the cord?” Mattheo’s question held no sympathy, speaking as though he were having any other conversation. You pushed off the steps to stand, “I just..I don’t understand.” 

Mattheo shook his head, “Are you really surprised? Didn’t I tell you, sweetheart? Didn’t I warn you. I warned them, right Theo?” Mattheo smiled as he looked over to his friend. Theo’s previously bored demeanor turning into one of amusement, “Loud and clear, compagno.” 

You pushed past them, making your way back to your own dorm. Crawling silently into your bed before crying just the same. 

A few days after that you ran into Mattheo and Theo again. Having time to think, feeling more composed, you approached them. Mattheo quirked a brow at your presence, Theo taking the speaking role this time, “Can we help you?” Even with the time you were with Enzo you didn’t really hear Theo talk that much, so his straightforward approach was off putting. 

You shrugged, confused now as well as to what you were doing, “I-I..erm, I don’t know. I think I was just saying hi.” The pair looked at each other before looking back at you. “Why?” The question came from Mattheo and in all honesty, you were confused by it. “Erm, because we’re..friends?”

Theo smiled at the ground, head shaking. When he looked back at you his eyes were cold, “Oh you thought we were actually friends? No, no, that’s just what you do when your best mate brings their little play thing into the dynamic. You’re nice to them. For as long as they want them around, but that’s over now.” 

Your entire face dropped, Theo continued, “Once Enzo cuts you off you’re off. Stop trying to hold on to us.” Mattheo holds up a finger, “Unless…you know, you wanted to share your talents.” Theo’s grinning, watching your brows furrow before Mattheo continues, “Berkshire did give you some praise. What was it he said again? Oh! That your mouth can do fantastic things when it’s filled.” 

Theo’s suppressing giggles now, hand covering his mouth as you seemingly got more and more offended. Mattheo was eating it up, “Awh, baby. If you’re gonna pout, can you at least do it on your knees. Gimme the full experience, will ya?” 

You scoffed, trying to hold your composure as you stalked off. This was wrong. This was not happening. 

You had to find him. Had to just have one more chance to get Enzo alone. Then you could talk to him. Make some sense of this all. It had to be a misunderstanding, surely. So when you do find him and he agrees to have a chat you’re floored. 

You meet him near the dungeons, in one of the quieter, unused corridors. When Enzo see’s you he’s fast approaching; pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “I’m actually really glad you asked to talk, I’ve…been meaning to ask you to talk to.” He smiles that old smile you love and somehow you’re convinced that maybe everything could go back to normal. 

It seems like you’re right, too. You’re letting your feelings be known, and it looks like he’s listening intently. “You really hurt me, ya know?” The distance between the two of you is short. You’re hoping you’re conveying how you’re feeling in a way that he understands. That he cares. 

And Enzo nods, closing the distance between you, and his eyes seem full of sorrow when he says, “I know, baby, I did hurt you, didn’t I…” and he’s got a hand on your waist, thumb brushing the skin of your hip and his other is cupping your face, a grip on your jaw that turns your neck open for him and he can hear the slight gasp leave your throat as he leans in close; then you hear his voice in your ear. 

“Pathetic…almost easier than the first time.” 

So you push him back with a bit of anger; and he lets you. And he’s smiling again, that unfamiliar smile that is apparently his true look of enjoyment while he runs a hand through his hair, “I told Matt I could fool you again. But he actually had a bit of faith in you, cute right? He said there was ‘no way you’d be that fucking easy again’. Guess I owe you a thanks. You just made me 20 galleons.”

A feeling of dread washes over you, like a cold shock to your system. Your feet move on their own, away from him, anywhere but where he is. You’re in a state of shock that makes it seem like you’re running away when really you’re just at a loss for words. 

The next week felt like a year. A hollow emptiness sitting in your chest. You’re crying most nights, as quietly and silently as you can into your pillow. Barely eating at meals, simply pushing the food around your plate half the time. You’re a shadow of a person walking from class to class, but your friends don’t say anything about it. They think you just need to mope a bit, then it’ll be done. 

Enzo sees it. All of it. Watches you slowly deteriorate from the person you once were. Watches your friends abandon trying to cheer you up. He sees you not even notice when they’re gathering their things, getting ready to leave the table and head somewhere else. He sees them give you a glance, before shrugging, probably assuming you’ll catch up. 

Then when you’re alone, that’s when he does it. Approaches you again, with that same pretty smile from a few months ago. You give him a weak one, cautious. But then he’s saying all the right things, not truly apologizing for what happened before, but talking nicely enough that you’re starting to feel like your old self.  And just like that, he’s got you. And you don’t deny him. Because sure, he’ll most likely break your heart again. That, that was almost a guarantee. But what you’ve learned is that it seems like he always comes back. After the heartbreak that is. And he picks up the pieces in a way. And in the end, you’d rather have Enzo like this…than no Enzo at all.

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (41)

***

Life settles into a routine. Silco tends to wake early and check with the harbour master for the ships scheduled to arrive. They work in the mines, in the wide tunnels of level one while they wait for the engineers to return. They eat in the mess hall at night and spend the rest of the evening exploring their worthless land, marking out the edges of it and planning how to build.

The land itself is uneven and steep, a crevasse leading to the mine and impossible to climb to riverside. It's clearly been used by the mine as a garbage dump because they come across a pile of junk, stacked up high. There's old devices, cogs and gears. There's pieces of steel, the type used to reinforce the mining shafts. Broken bits of wood and broken tools. It's a pile of resources, a chance to build something here.

Vander gets the others to help them sort through it. They separate it into stacks of building materials and machinery pieces, and Vander laughs at Connol and Benzo arguing over the same wrench.

"What are you going to do here?" Felicia asks as Connol and Benzo keep squabbling.

Vander shrugs. "Build. Build a market, I guess."

"Build homes," Silco says. "Stop paying the company for everything."

"What? You're going to build a town here?" Felicia asks, laughing. "Your own little fiefdom?"

"Our own kingdom," Vander says, like something out of a fairytale. "Somewhere you could build a life."

Silco waves a sarcastic hand at the rubbish around them. "The grand nation of Zaun. Built from discarded scraps on worthless land."

"But it would be ours," Vander says. "And if we weren't paying half our wages back to the company every night, the mines wouldn't be so bad."

It's Benzo that pulls him aside later that night, falling into step with him as they walk back to the mine. "No one's going to sleep here. Be full of the Grey every morning."

"So we only build a market," Vander says quietly. Silco's deep in conversation with Connol, something about heights and riverside, but Vander doesn't want to discourage these dreams if he doesn't have to. "It's still something."

***

The engineers return from Piltover and everyone gets moved up to level one while they take control of the elevator. It leads to a lot of grumbling amongst the miners. There's too many people working the same tunnels, it's harder to work and harder to meet quota. Vander pools his efforts with Benzo and Felicia, and together they manage to scrape by.

He's relieved that Silco's working with the engineers, helping them dig and blast the elevator shaft deeper. He has a moment of guilt the first night, and asks Silco if they should be working together, if Vander should volunteer to work on the elevator shaft.

Silco rolls on top of him, eye glittering with amusement. "That depends. How hard will it be for you to resist punching them in the face?"

"It's a challenge," Vander says, as seriously as he can while Silco's lightly scraping his nails over Vander's chest. "But I think I could manage it."

"Even if they spend half an hour talking about how the berries this year have been disappointing and they're sure last year's was sweeter?" Silco lowers his mouth to Vander's skin, sucking a mark right above his heart.

"I could do it."

"And if they start talking about someone in this house courting someone in that house, and how last time one of them married, there were fireworks and doves?"

"At the same time? Were they trying to kill the birds?"

Silco smothers his laugh against Vander's chest. He doesn't get to hear Silco laugh enough.

"It could be a topside tradition," Vander continues and Silco snickers. "Freshly barbecued dove."

"I hope not."

"You can never tell with Pilties."

"With that attitude, you should stay on level one, if you're happy there."

***