#just allowed me to fade into the background and never bothered

[theseadolls]

I'm ready to just be told that all of it was a lie.

[0alix0]

Rook's backgrounds make no sense or gatekeeping is good, actually

It's didn't sit well with me ever since bioware admitted that all 6 background for Rook can be played by any race you choose

Looking back at Origins it's clear why most of the backgrounds were race-specific. Not only it provided a better understanding of the separate cultures (you wouldn't really understand what dwarfs are about if you were able to play as a surface dwarf commoner) it also established the rules of the world (elves are opressed, you can't become a queen/king cuz the nobles will riot, humans colonize them and inforce their religion and rules on everyone, dwarfs are considered weird)

Now, looking at the veilguard, I can't help but ask:

How can a fully grown dalish with vallaslin be a crow? They buy slaves as a way to get more assassins, usually elves, children, so they could easier ruin their psyche. why the hell would a dalish stand for it?

How can a qunari be a Gray Warden? Wardens don't discriminate, sure, but this far, we haven't even heard of a qunari warden. Rook should be a legend, Rook should be questioned at actually being a warden by NPCs, OR sit in some Warden outpost and being studied by their mages, because no one actually knows how Blight and joining might work with Kossith body instead of running around with Varric.

Veiljumpers were organized by dalish, right? Then why in the world would a human be allowed to join? How and why did they change their minds to accept literally anyone, even if it's a potential threat/thief(Morrigan)/zealot/etc..?

How can a dwarf, someone who isn't even connected to the fade be a Veiljumper?

How can a dwarf be a part of the Mourn Watch? A Mortalitasi, an exclusively MAGE order? What can they even do?? Preform a non magical mummifications with herbs and salts like Egyptians did? Sweep the mausoleum? Be some sort of a funeral organizer/lawyer/genealogist? That could've been really interesting if only the game actually bothered to say anything about it. It did not

"Well it's up to your headcanons!" then why make the backgrounds in the first place??? They don't matter anyway!

I mean, obviously it was just a way to promote the game to older fans. Look, the backstories! The thing you've been craving for is back in game! Only they forgot what actually made them so great. The most important part. They mattered, they created a basis for my character. They gave them families, connections. They changed the way my character is perceived (elves in general) and what they can do plotwise (become a monarch/paragon).

I don't fucking care if 3-5 NPCs might have some additional dialogues for me, cuz they don't matter anyway. I don't even know these people, i never met them before, my character did, but I didn't. And now I don't care enough to know. like, i'm playing as a mourn watcher, but before going to Nevarra i barely knew anything about them, and what i know now is still rather surface level shit

Let alone the fact that all the backgrounds are practically the same. You pissed off some influencial people by doing good and was send away. Bravo.

........if this post gets one like I'm writing my own ideas for DA4 protagonist's backgrounds

[porcelian]

HOW HE LOVES | t. drake & d. thomas | 0.5k

SYNOPSIS: how do tim and duke show their love for you, respectively?

ANON: “If it's not a bother for you can you please write for Tim and Duke 'how he loves'? Thank you!”

A/N: i have awoken from my slumber. do not expect me to stay awake for long lol.

◌ ꕀ NAV. MLISTS.

TIM DRAKE:

KNOWING: For someone like Tim, whose mind is his greatest strength, love is more than just a feeling—it's the art of knowing you completely. What is love if not a mastery of every detail, a calculated understanding of every step you take, every emotion you hide? Tim’s every move is meticulously planned, a chessboard of thoughts and intentions, each piece advancing toward perfection.

You are the center of his universe, the gravitational pull around which his every thought orbits. When Tim looks at you, it’s as if he sees the hidden layers you’ve kept from the world. Every shift in your mood, every fleeting thought that passes behind your eyes—he catches it, understands it.

He knows you.

When your eyes glimmer with doubt, he's already there, a steady hand reaching out. When you need a moment of calm in the chaos of your day, he’s planning that perfect getaway, the surprise trip to your favorite spot, or simply a quiet feeling like a breath of fresh air. A birthday gift that makes you gasp in delight, because he found exactly what would make your heart skip—he remembers the smallest details, the things you've mentioned in passing, tucked away like secrets only he could hold.

Tim doesn’t just observe; he reacts. A soft touch to the small of your back when you’re lost in thought, the kind of attention that never wavers, that fills every second. His conversations with you are like an endless, flowing river—words that draw you in, his voice a steady current pulling you closer, to explore deeper, to understand more. He listens, completely, without interruption.

A LOOK IN: Adjusting your collar, handing you your favorite coffee, catching your eye and knowing what you need, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, leaving you a note with a solution you didn’t ask for.

DUKE THOMAS:

LUDIC: To love Duke is to be swept up in a tide of joy that refuses to let go. It’s the feeling of being wrapped in light. His presence is a softness you wouldn’t expect from anyone but him, like a cushion of warmth that surrounds you, allowing you to breathe freely, to be yourself.

There’s an electricity to Duke—a constant hum of energy, of life. You can’t help but feel it when he’s near. He’s like the sun breaking through storm clouds, filling the room with golden beams that make everything feel possible. And that joy? It’s contagious. He’s a spark that catches, igniting your own heart, making everything else fade to the background.

He knows how to pull you into this joy.

His hands are always reaching for you—whether it’s to pull you close for a quick, spontaneous dance in the middle of the kitchen or to brush a lock of hair behind your ear with the softest of touches. His laughter is infectious, and when he holds you, it’s like you’re floating. His words aren’t just promises; they are the kind of things that sink into your skin, stay with you long after he’s gone.

“I’ve got you,” he’ll whisper in the quiet moments. The reassurance is unspoken, but it hangs in the air. It’s in the way his eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. The world feels like it can’t touch you when you’re with him.

A LOOK IN: Spinning you in the middle of a room, holding you close during a storm, handing you wildflowers with a grin, pulling you into a dance with no music.

© PORCELIAN ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

STARRY EYES SPARKIN’ UP MY DARKEST NIGHT

touya todoroki x reader

you and touya find solace together, dancing barefoot in the kitchen.

separate from my other touya x reader series. i missed writing short little tidbits for him 🤍 i can write a part two if you guys want! slight nsfw themes

inspired by call it what you want (and all too well)

honestly, he though it was stupid.

after a 2 hour long session of touya being knee deep between your thighs, taking you to heaven and back on the couch, he allows you to pull him towards the kitchen. here, he’s wearing nothing but jeans that he can’t even be bothered to zip up. not that you’re complaining- he’s sculpted like a masterpiece.

touya’s enjoying the view as well, watching you in a big t-shirt and not much else. if he can’t dance, he’ll at least admire the way the fabric clings to you in the glow of the fridge lightbulbs.

some american singer plays in the background, singing about her reputation. shes not the only noise going on, however. the quiet domesticity of your shitty apartment is loud and clear to the two of you. and somehow, its more romantic than grand gestures or fancy, expressions of love.

for a man who never knew the love of home, he sure cherished the fact that his and your laundry were both thrown into the same cycle. he loves the smell of rice cooking in the fridge, and handily fixing that leak in the sink you didn’t know was there. he chuckles when you join him in the shower, not being able to withstand the cold temperatures he prefers to bathe in. he loves the sound of running water when he washes the dishes after you cook, and your soft breathing when he hushes you to sleep.

its so mundane. so simple. so familiar.

nobody’s heard from him in months. his scarred hands make their way to your waist, holding you as you sway back and forth. you fit in his arms like a daydream, his head hanging low as he decides this is the place he wants to be.

your forehead presses against his, searching those burning blue eyes for any signs he may not really love you the way he says. any doubts or any lies.

you find none.

you step on his toes accidentally and he teases you, because of course he does- “thought you were the expert on this, doll.” he smirks, flashing that same shit-eating grin you came to love.

you roll your eyes, hushing him up by moving in closer. “i told you, i am. you’re horrible at this.” you chuckle. he loves that laugh of yours.

“i’m a stone-cold villain, not some ballroom dancer.” he reminds you, though the way he suddenly twirls you around says otherwise. maybe he just wanted to see the way your hair dances around your body, your simple beauty captivating him enormously.

touya loves you like you’re brand new. the way he looks at you, taking in every detail silently. to him, you make dancing barefoot in the kitchen look like a sky full of stars.

suddenly, all the judgement from your past disappears. the heartbreak, jokers taking swings at you and liars calling you one fade to nothing when you look at him. you crumble his castles, the walls he builds up just with your gentle touch. he doesn’t understand how you do it, or even why he loves it so much.

for all his life, he’s made the same mistakes. bridges burn, people hurt and baring scars- he almost never learns. but when he looks at you, god- he knows he’s done one thing right. he finds it in him to laugh with you, to feel the happiness he never knew he was allowed to experience. yeah, you’re definitely the 1 thing he’s done right.

“you know you can’t save me, right?” he asks in a whisper, head dipping down to your ear. and he’s right. he’s someone who, no matter how much you love him, you can’t burn stronger than his flames. he wants to be sure. he wants to know you’re here, dancing with him in the kitchen of your apartment, willing to get your heartbroken. he’s steeling himself for the pain he’s about to cause you.

if love could save us, we’d live forever.

but right now, he’ll keep dancing with you.

“…i know.” you whisper, silent resignation in your voice. at the very least, you two have right now.

if you could, you’d wear TT around your neck. not because he owns you- touya could never own or even deserve someone as kind and light as you. but he can say that he knows you, and loves you harder than anyone you have ever known. his tortured heart burns the brightest for you.

its more than anyone else could say. they could berate you, call you two criminals and lash out in violence. but the two of you challenged them- let them call it what they want. they don’t know what it really is, anyway.

for @crushmeeren whose kind words on a vent post i made earlier this week inspired me to write🤍🫧

[ponderingmoonlight]

Can we get a yuta x fem!reader where he saves reader in Shibuya just in time after not seeing her this whole year?

sounds like a plan to me, let's do it hehe

Yuta saving your ass in Shibuya

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,7k

Synopsis: You have enough. After fighting for multiple hours in Shibuya, you are the brink of giving up your life, of giving up the pondering about a future with Yuta. Little do you know he's already on his way to Shibuya...

Warnings: language, TW! reader accepts the threat of death (and kinda wants to die), angst but comfort, not fully proofread

„Fuck!“, you cry on top of your lungs, bruised fingertips digging themselves into the debris underneath.

You are so damn tired. Tired of the horrible things you had to endure on this cursed evening, tired of all the senseless fighting, tired of death crawling up your spine. Maybe you just have to realize that your time has come, that you’ll be next. After all those people losing their lives today, it’s finally your turn.

“I’ve done enough”, you mutter to yourself.

The countless creatures in front of you cry out while storming towards you again. The people behind you scream in horror, so scared of dying that it wrenches your heart.

Why? Why do you have to be so damn emotional about this, so wrecked by their helplessness? You shouldn’t bother about their fate at all, should just sit here and await your very own relief in silence.

But instead, you lift yourself back up and draw your sword. Again and again, you slash into their bodies, paint the town around you in purple. Every fiber of your being begs you to stop, to just run away and never return, to sit down and let them slice your head off to end this madness once and for all.

It was definitely easier when he was still around. Yuta Okkotsu, special grade, probably the strongest after Satoru.

And the boy you hopelessly fell in love with until he decided to leave you behind. It’s been a year since you’ve last seen him, a year since you really talked to each other. Damn, how much you wished to see him one more time before you die, to at least tell him about your unwavering feelings. Why the hell are you so attached to him after all this time anyway?

But Yuta Okkotsu isn’t enough. The unsaid words between you two aren’t enough motivation to keep going after you’ve seen Nanami die, after both of Toge’s arms got sliced off, after Sukuna almost killed you.

No. You are so damn tired of it all. Fuck your pathetic life, fuck those people you don’t even know.

“I��I can’t…do…it…anymore”, you huff out.

Like in slow motion, your bloody blades glides out of your weak grip, falling onto the ground with a loud clinking.

This is it. Your final moment on this earth. Maybe that huge curse will bite your head off and let it all end quickly. Hopefully you wake up somewhere nice, maybe at a beach or something. And maybe, just maybe, your brain is able to trick you one last time into thinking that he’s here, that he thought about you as well, that Yuta Okkotsu didn’t forget about your existence.

Just a single moment and it will be over. Just one last breath in this cursed place.

You allow yourself to close your eyes, the desperate cries for help fading into the background. The pain that holds your body, all the horrible things you’ve seen…You smile to yourself gently while sitting down. It’s finally over. Now you’re finally able to rest.

And so you wait in silence for their sharp teeth, for them to finally slice your head off. But something seems off…You furrow your eyebrows. What has gotten into this thing? Is it full already? No, these monsters never get enough. It has to me something else.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You hold your breath, eyes snapping open in an instant. That familiar voice, that white uniform…You glare straight into the stranger’s face.

But no, that isn’t a stranger.

This is Yuta Okkotsu.

“(y/n), is that really you? What were you doing here? That curse could have killed you!”

His words don’t fully reach your ears, cries of the curse who gets eaten alive by Rika ringing in your ears. This can’t be true. He…He wasn’t even on the continent. How did he get here? And why on earth is he standing right in front of you?

Suddenly thick anger rises up your chest. Anger because he your left without really telling you. Anger because he didn’t write or reply to your messages frequently, anger because Yuta never seemed to fully care about you after the year you’ve spent together, after the secret kiss you’ve shared. And now he’s standing in front of you with that single droplet of sweat running down his face, asking what you are doing here.

“You have some fucking nerve”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

You lift your trembling figure off the ground, pushing him backwards with all the strength you have left only to stumble over your worn-out legs.

“You disappear for a whole damn year, never really care about me and then you ask my what I’m doing here!? Do you want to know what I did? I tried to save these people, tried to justify the countless dead jujutsu sorcerers, tried to free Gojo-sensei! What were you doing all this time, why didn’t you even ca-“

With a swift motion, he gets down and wraps his arms around you, cages you against his body. No, you don’t want to be near him, you need to get away, you…

Can’t help but cry.

“Why did you leave me here without saying anything?”, you mutter desperately, fists banging weakly against his chest.

Fuck, why does it have to feel so comforting, why do you have to realize just how much you missed him and the way he holds you? Why does it have to be so damn hard to stay mad at him when all you need right now is a big comforting hug?

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all those things. When I heard what happens here in Shibuya, when no one could tell me that you’re safe…On my flight back here I regretted over and over that I didn’t have the guts to tell you how I feel”, he whispers against your bloody ear.

“Please tell me you’re alright, tell me I wasn’t too late”, he begs.

Gently, he lifts up your face, forces you to get lost in his blue eyes. Oh, how badly you want to push him away, tell him to leave this place and let you die. But instead, you just stare at him, watch how he scans your body, your countless injuries.

“How long have you been fighting here alone?”, he mutters.

“4 hours. Maybe a little longer. I lost count some time ago”, you mumble, tired eyes still set on him.

He looks so different from when you last saw him. How is it even possible to turn from a boy to a man in the matter of one year? His chest seems wider, jawline even sharper, eyes clearer than ever before. But what changed the most is the way he carries himself. The man in front of you isn’t insecure and fearful. No, he seems absolutely aware of his immense powers, killing of that grade 1 curse with ease.

“You look shocked.”

“I definitely am. After all, a ghost is talking to me”, you reply dryly.

What hasn’t change is the fact that his eyes seem to be the mirror of his feelings, instantly filling with sorrow by the sound of your harsh tone.

“I didn’t want to leave you behind. But…I had no other choice, (y/n)! I owed it to myself and Riko-“

“Oh, so now it’s Rika and you, huh?”, you bark.

Enough. You stand up faster than expected, shooting back up only to lose balance and falling back into Yuta’s open arms.

“Hey, slow down. You have to be exhausted.”

“Yes. Yes I am fucking exhausted. Exhausted from that senseless fighting, exhausted from hearing your excuses! What was the real reason you just left me in the dark? Was it because of Rika, because you don’t care about me like that? You should have thought about that before you kissed me the night before you went to different continent-“

“Trust me, I thought about you all the time, I loved you all the time, (y/n)! It was just as hard for me as it was to you. The last thing I wanted was to leave after that night, but I had no other choice. It was my only chance to train properly, to get the best of me. If I could, I would have taken you with me straight away. But I couldn’t. And I’ll probably never forgive myself for leaving you alone in this mess, for almost losing you!”

He grabs your face passionately, makes you forget how to breathe. Is this really Yuta Okkotsu talking to you? Is this really Yuta Okkotsu leaning closer, his lips only inches away from yours.

“I loved you through everything, (y/n). And I hope you did as well.”

“Are you serious?”, you breathe out, staring at him in sheer disbelief.

“You were the only thing on my mind all this time. You and…that I never told you that I love you”, you blurt out.

You aren’t even able to turn away from him. In the matter of seconds, his lips are pressed against yours. Just like the last time you’ve seen each other, just like he did at his dorm a year ago. Sparks fly, your heart shivers in sheer excitement. Oh, you’ll definitely not forget that he just left you, that he didn’t message you on a regular basis.

But at the moment, you just close your eyes and let the sensation of his hands caressing your face while his lips brush over yours so tenderly sink in. Just a few minutes ago, you were kneeling on the ground, ready to let yourself get killed here in Shibuya. And now he’s here. The countless nights you pondered when he’ll come back, how he’ll act, how he’ll look.

When reality is so much better.

“I promise that I’ll never leave you again. I’ll make it up to you”, he mumbles against your parted lips.

“I sure hope so.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi@weebotaku21@chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez@belovedvamp@wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82

[thescarletfang]

The Sweetest Kind of Trouble

Well, here it is! My fluffier-than-fluff Tommy Miller fic. Seriously, this is so soft, y’all. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to go dark for this one. Sometimes it be like that! I just really wanted to write a very tender Tommy Miller fic without the looming threat of the end of the world. 

Word count: ~8.3k (my longest fic lol who am I what is happening)

Summary: You meet Tommy when he comes in looking for flowers for a first date. He’s trouble from the start.

Tommy Miller x f!reader, AU, no outbreak. 

Warnings: Some spice at the end! I think that’s it?? Let me know if I missed anything but I mean...this is SO FLUFFY. 

I hope you enjoy. I just want to give Tommy Miller all of the love he deserves!!

He came in looking for flowers. 

You noticed him immediately - his tall, broad frame adorned in faded Levi’s, his gray, collared shirt open and unbuttoned with a white tank top underneath, a cowboy hat on his head and dark shades hiding his eyes. You could tell he was beautiful immediately, even with his sunglasses on. The way his black locks curled under the hat made your fingers itch, the desire to run your hands through them a little shocking since you’d only laid eyes on him thirty seconds ago. His boots were as study as his large hands that ran along the cracked, wooden gate that led into where you stood behind the register. 

You liked working at Daisywood Farms, especially in the springtime. The Texas sky was usually a vibrant shade of blue, the steady buzz and hum of insects the perfect background melody. You liked the way the heat made you sweat. You were a summer baby after all, coming alive in the warmer weather, so it never bothered you none when Austin got real warm. You felt yourself bloom under the sun. 

You really liked working in the marketplace at Daisywood Farms. It was open and bustling and there was everything from blackberry jam to mason jars of moonshine to apple and rhubarb pie - and flowers. So many flowers, black-and-yellow bees dancing through the outdoor marketplace, floating from daisies to sunflowers to carnations and sprigs of baby’s breath. You reveled in the different scents; rejoiced in the way your sundress moved with the humid breeze and your hair frizzed around the crown of your head. 

You’d decided at thirty to go back to school and earn your master’s degree in English Literature, and working at Daisywood Farms from the springtime through autumn was a nice respite amidst your studies. You worked part-time, it paid for your apartment and books, and it allowed you to get out of your head. You found yourself content for the first time in a long time - you had a routine. You had friends - good ones, too. You had your own place, a little two bedroom with hardwood floors and natural light and a windowsill for your flowers and space for all of your books. You were - for all intents and purposes - happy. 

You did not expect Tommy Miller. 

After you initially noticed him, you went back to work, ringing up an older woman for an entire case of moonshine, having to bite your lip from laughing when she told you it was because her husband was getting on her last nerve. You packed away her jars and sent her on her way, and your eyes crinkled from smiling as you watched her leave. 

A few minutes later, you looked up from wiping down the counter when you heard a throat clear. It was the guy with the hat and the boots and the hair and the–

“Um, miss, I don’t wanna be a bother, but I could sure use your help.”

You immediately thought that his voice didn’t have to be that deep and that raspy. Did this man walk out of one of those trashy romance novels you’d read on the beach last summer? You felt flustered as he took off his sunglasses and you were met with puppy-dog brown eyes. At the distance he stood from you now, you could see a smattering of freckles along his cheeks, and he was grinning. You’d never been smitten with a stranger this quickly before, but this man was simply beautiful. You couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. Your eyes flickered over his face despite your best attempts to remain unafflicted. 

He looked at you expectantly, and you came back to your senses. You cleared your throat. Your face was hot. 

You found your voice. “What can I help you with?”

His grin was very distracting, you noted. He tapped his fingertips on the counter and you felt your lips quirking up in the corner, despite yourself. Whoever this man was, he made you want to smile, and that was alright by you.

“Got me a first date tonight,” he said. “And my niece says bums like me should bring flowers to a first date.”

You laughed, despite the twinge of disappointment at the fact that this man had a date lined up. That’s what you get for being flustered with a stranger. 

“Your niece sounds very smart.”

His eyes glittered as he nodded, hanging his sunglasses on the collar of his white undershirt. He rapped his knuckles twice on the counter. 

“Smartest person I know, that’s for damn sure,” he said. You nodded, pulling up the wooden barrier on the side of the cash register counter, coming out from around the corner to stand in this man’s space. You thought for a second his eyes flicked over your body, taking you in, but you were sure you’d imagined it. 

“Well, we have lots of options for a first date,” you told him, the two of you walking toward the rows and rows of flowers that Daisywood Farms was known for. “What’s this girl like?”

The man chuckled lowly, reaching up and taking the cowboy hat off his head, holding it close to his chest. You tried not to stare at the disheveled curls, tried to not to marvel at how beautiful his head of hair was.

Dear god, woman. Get it together!

“I don’t really know,” the man admitted. “I asked for her number at the bar the other night and well, now here we are.”

You paused in front of a sprig of lavender and pulled it out of its place, holding it up to your nose. You breathed in deeply, the familiar scent warming you down to your toes. You looked up to find the man staring at you. 

“Hmm.” Your fingers traced against the sprigs in your hand. “You honestly can’t go wrong with lavender, maybe mixed with a few wildflowers in there.” 

He kept looking at you and you felt rooted to the spot. “That your favorite? Lavender?”

You nodded. “I’d say so. I like to always have some on my breakfast table. Brightens up my morning while I have my coffee and do some reading.” Am I talking too much? It felt like you were talking too much. 

He watched you for a moment, not saying anything. It almost felt as if he was studying you. And then he reached over, picking up a bunch of daffodils.

“I think these’ll do.” His eyes flickered back to you. “She don’t seem like a lavender girl.” 

You pursed your lips, putting back your lavender bunch, trying to decide if that stung or not. She must be really different than me. 

“I don’t think you needed much of my help.” You led him away from the flowers and he put his hat back on. As you lifted the wooden barrier to situate yourself behind the register, you heard him chuckle. When you turned around to face him, hand outstretched for the daffodils, he was grinning.

“Sure I did. How else I’d know that lavender brighten up a morning while you do some reading?”

You bit your lip, trying to put a clamp on your smile but it felt a little futile. You thought maybe he picked up on it because as you rang up his total, his eyes sparkled with something like mischief. 

“I’m Tommy Miller.” Your eyes shot up to meet his, momentarily pausing in punching in the price in the ancient register. You liked the way he said his full, government name to you. It made you want to laugh. He’s so damn cute.

“Are you, now?” You couldn’t help but tease him a little and he breathed out a chuckle, the sound low and rich, like a dark roast coffee. You smirked as he looked away for a minute, his smile crooked. When his eyes flicked back to you, you couldn’t help but suck in a breath. 

Ugh. What is wrong with me? He’s just a guy, getting some flowers for his girl. 

Maybe you were lonelier than you thought you were. Maybe it was time to take up Vanessa - your best friend - on her offer to set you up with one of her coworkers. She had mentioned a guy named Jake had thought you were cute when you’d joined them for happy hour drinks a few weeks back. You can barely remember what he looked like, but a vague picture of a dude floated in your head. You remember thinking he was nice.

“Can I ask your name?” You were brought back to the present and to the man - Tommy - in front of you. He sounded hopeful and friendly and not at all like some of the more aggressive men you’d encountered out in Texas nightlife. This Tommy Miller - he felt open. He felt safe. 

Maybe you were an idiot for thinking that after a few minutes of interaction, but you prided yourself on your instincts. 

Which was why you told him your name. He repeated it back to you, the grin permanent on his face. You had to look down or else you were worried you’d completely melt. You wrapped his flowers up as you told him the total. As he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, you cut a piece of twine, wrapping it around the bundle of daffodils. 

You gave him the flowers as he handed you cash. He held them up to his nose, smelling for a moment, before looking at you. He was looking at you through his dark, too-long-to-be-good-for-him lashes, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

You gestured with your hand toward the bouquet.“She’s gonna love them. Daffodils are a perfect first-date flower.”

“Alright then.” He nodded. “Now if this date goes badly and she hates them, I may have you to blame, yeah?”

You laughed. “Well I did suggest lavendar, so…”

Tommy stood there and you thought for a moment maybe he wanted to say something. But he didn’t and you filled the silence for him.

“Well…enjoy your date, Tommy.” 

“You work here often?” The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, as if he couldn’t contain them much longer. Your eyebrows rose almost to your hairline. 

“I do. Part-time.” He looked at you and his expression was so open that you felt yourself offering more. “I’m back in school, getting my master’s degree, so I work here through autumn when I don’t have class.”

Tommy let out a low whistle, his eyes widening. He looked impressed and you tried not to preen. 

“So you one a’ those smart ones?” 

You titled your head at him, pursing your lips playfully. “You one a’ those dumb ones?” 

Tommy’s eyes lit up and you felt little butterflies in your belly. His eyes glittered in the afternoon sun, and you felt like everyone else milling about the Daisywood marketplace faded into the background, blurred and frayed around the edges. As if there was a glow on just the two of you, the warmth radiating into your pulse, down into your very bones. 

“You’re trouble,” he told you, motioning with the bouquet in your direction. You felt like you’d just won something, but you weren’t sure what it was. 

“It was nice to meet you, Tommy Miller,” you told him and he grinned again, one of those wide ones that crinkled the edges of his eyes. 

“You too.” 

* * * 

Tommy had wanted to ask for your number, but he had enough sense in his head that he realized asking a woman for her number while buying flowers for another woman was not the right move. He was an idiot about most things, but he knew that much.

But damn, you’d been a fiery thing. And as he stood in the parking lot of the restaurant, his hands in his pockets, watching his date walk back to her car, he cursed himself. Because the girl he’d taken out tonight - she’d been sweet, but clearly the sparks had peaked under the dim light of a bar and the fuel of alcohol. When she said tonight had been fun but maybe that’s where it stopped - a friendly, platonic smile on her face - he couldn’t have agreed faster. He only realized as she walked away that she’d left her flowers in the restaurant. 

He kicked a rock in the parking lot, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He lit one as he walked to his truck, the nicotine immediately calming him. He exhaled through his nose as he climbed into the driver’s seat. 

Tommy knew his history with women. He knew he’d never been the serious type, much more interested in hook-ups and and flirtations than actual relationships. But he’d be lying if he said that now -  in the latter half of his thirties - the uncertainty felt a little tired. It’s not like he was ready to settle down, get married and pop out some kids - hell no. Sarah was enough for him and he loved being her uncle more than almost anything in the world.

Naw, he wasn’t trying to skip all the steps and get tied down right away. But…it would be kind of nice to come home to someone after a long day of working in the sun, blistered hands and aching bones. Would be nice to not have to try with anyone, to just have someone who knew him. Someone he could wrap up in his arms, that he could feel like himself with. Someone to bring over to Joel and Sarah’s for Sunday night dinner. ‘Cuz that drive home is starting to feel a little lonely. And so is my house. 

He took another puff from his cigarette as he passed the local grocery store. He realized he was out of coffee and tomorrow was a big job with Joel - he knew he’d need the fuel in the morning. Pulling into the nearly-empty parking lot at this hour, Tommy flicked his cigarette out of the driver’s window as he pulled into an empty spot. 

As he walked into the grocery store, he stuck his hands in his faded jean jacket and headed straight for the coffee aisle. He could feel the long day settle into his bones and he was looking forward to flopping face-first down into his bed the second he got home. 

He found the dark roast he liked and snatched it from the shelf before he turned toward the end of the aisle, where he promptly found himself rooted to the spot.

Because there you were. Pretty little thing from the farm, your name floating into his brain as he looked at you for a moment as you held a basket in your arm, examining a bag of sugar. Your hair was pulled out of your face, different than how you’d worn it this afternoon, and you looked a little tired. 

But still as cute as ever.

“Hey, Trouble.”

You looked up at his voice and it took a moment, but when you recognized him your face broke into the brightest smile he’d seen all day. It made his stomach swoop a little and he walked toward you, returning your grin. 

“Tommy Miller.” You put the bag of sugar in your already-full basket, shifting your weight to accommodate the bulkiness. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said your name then and you laughed. And then he stupidly asked, “What are you doin’ here?”

He felt himself flush as you got a teasing look in your eye, seemingly delighted that he would ask such an obvious question. Your eyes flicked down to your basket, then back up to his gaze.

“Why, believe it or not, I’m grocery shopping.”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed, the hand not holding his coffee coming up to rub at the back of his neck. You seemed to take pity on him because you looked up at him with a friendly wink, letting him know you were just messing with him. 

Tommy nodded. “Ain’t that somethin’.” 

Suddenly, your eyes went wide, as if you’d only just remembered something. “How’d your date go?!” 

You seemed genuinely excited for him, like you really cared about his answer to the question.  

“It was fine.” He watched as your eyebrows rose. You looked - well - if Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say you looked a little relieved at his lackluster response but maybe that was just him being hopeful. 

“Oh no.” You once again shifted the heavy basket and Tommy had an itch to reach out and take it for you. Would that be too forward? I don’t wanna come on too strong. “‘Fine’ is not how you want to describe a first date.” A pause, and then, “It was the daffodils, wasn’t it?”

Tommy barked out a laugh and you grinned playfully at him. “I think it was more to do with our personalities not bein’ compatible, but I will tell you - she left the daffodils in the restaurant.”

You clutched a dramatic hand to your heart, scrunching your eyes up in mock pain. “Noooooo!” 

“It’s true. Right there on the table between our empty plates.”

You groaned, the sound turning into a laugh when your eyes landed back on his. “That’s so brutal, I’m sorry. For the record - those were really nice flowers! Her loss.”

Tommy stuck his free hand into his pocket to keep from just taking that damn heavy basket out of your arms. “They were nice flowers. As pretty and as nice as the gal who sold them to me.”

You squinted your eyes at him, pursing your lips - it looked like you were trying to hide a smile.

“You using a line on me after your failed date?” Damn, you liked calling him out, didn’t you?

“It ain’t a line!” He watched as you turned on your heel, scoffing. He thought for a moment he’d blown it, that you really did think he was a dog, but when you realized he wasn’t next to you, you looked over your shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You just gonna stand there or you gonna walk with me?” 

She–oh…damn.

“Yes ma’am.” Tommy’s long legs got him to where you stood in just a few strides, and the two of you meandered down the aisle, toward the front of the store. 

“I really am sorry your date didn’t go as well as you’d hoped.” He looked to his left, down at you. Your gaze was focused ahead of you, your arms gripping the basket. 

Fuck it. 

“Here, gimme that.” He motioned to your basket and you looked up at him, your face full of surprise. 

“Oh, you don’t have to, Tommy–”

“I know that, but I want to.”

You hesitated for another moment before you let him take the basket out of your arms. He held it in his right hand, his left hand clutching his coffee. He glanced at your ingredients, noticed a few common threads. Made him think of the time he took Sarah to get things to surprise Joel on a Christmas morning a few years ago. They’d made cinnamon buns together, Sarah bossing him around while Joel slept in. That was a good day. 

“You into baking?” You looked up at his question. 

“It’s my best friend’s birthday next weekend. Gonna make her a cake. Icing and all.”

He let you walk in front of him as you both reached the checkout line and he resisted the urge to put his hand on your lower back. You turned to him and he held out your basket as you started to put your items onto the conveyor built. 

He caught your eye as you set down a container of sprinkles. “Lucky best friend.” 

The two of you didn’t talk much as you both checked out, but you did reward him with another bright smile as he effortlessly took hold of your bagged groceries, insisting he help carry them to your car.

You led him over to where you were parked and opened the passenger door for him to set your bag down. When you nudged the door closed with your hip, you turned to face him. He held his single bag of coffee in his hand, looking at you. 

“Thanks for the totally unnecessary chivalry.” You played with the strap of your purse, one foot kicked behind you, resting on your car door. “I really do appreciate it, Tommy.”

“I was raised right.” Tommy didn’t want to stop talking to you, but it was getting late and he had to be up early - and he could see the tiredness in your shoulders, the way sleep was probably beckoning you too. 

He rubbed the back of his neck again. If Joel had been there, he’d tease him for it, Tommy’s consistent tell that he was nervous. He’d done it since he was a little kid - before he was up to bat at a baseball game, before a doctor’s appointment, the day Joel told him he was going to be an uncle. 

“It was real nice runnin’ into you, Trouble, and I’d very much like to do it again.” He heard your small intake of breath, the surprised little gasp as your eyes widened just a bit. 

“You would?” There was no teasing in your question and Tommy was taken aback by the earnestness of it. Like you actually couldn’t believe he’d want to see you again, like you weren’t lovely and kind. He’d be an idiot to not at least try.

“Yes ma’am. You got a number you’d feel okay giving me?” 

Your initial reaction was to smile, and he marveled at how it took up your whole face. Then a second later you sighed, biting your lip, your eyes flitting away from him and he started to feel a little nervous. Maybe he was being too forward. He’d only just met you this morning. You might have a boyfriend or a husband or a girlfriend for all he knew–

“I’ll be honest, Tommy.” You were back to playing with the strap of your purse, and Tommy clocked it as a nervous tick. “I’m not much in the habit of giving strangers - especially men - my number.” 

He studied you for a moment, your hesitation. Did some idiot burn you before? Some creep abuse the privilege of having your number in his possession? He wanted to say he wouldn’t be like that, that he was different -  but currently the odds were stacked against him. He’d just been at dinner with a different woman an hour ago. Maybe you thought he was a creep. 

“How ‘bout this? I give you my number, so if you never wanna see me again, you don’t have to.” Your eyes lit up at his suggestion, your shoulders relaxing. “And I ain’t askin’ for anything. Just would like to talk to you some more.” 

You studied him for a long beat, debating something in that pretty head of yours. “How about as friends? You’d..be okay with that?”

The Tommy Miller from a few years ago - hell, even last year - would’ve honestly deflated at that, said sure and then put you out of his mind, moving on to someone who’d likely sleep with him. He wasn’t always proud of his history with women, and while he never meant to mistreat anyone, he had certainly ghosted a girl or two. Or three or four. 

But you’d been kind to him this morning and you were being kind to him now. He felt comfortable in your presence. And truthfully? He’d be lying if he said he had a lot of friends. Besides Joel and a few veteran buddies, he didn’t have time for a lot of friends. And if he was being brutally, terribly honest with himself?

Fuck, Tommy Miller was a little lonely.

Which is why he nodded, giving you a genuine grin. “Friends sounds pretty damn great to me.”

* * * 

You waited two days to reach out to Tommy. 

You had been a little surprised at your reaction to him asking for your number. You’d mooned over him that morning, your stomach had swooped when you’d ran into him again later that night at the grocery store, and yet when he actually asked for your number, you’d balked. 

Because you’d seen it clearly then. A man as gorgeous as Tommy could not possibly be looking for something more than just physical. And certainly not with you. It just…it didn’t track, based on your history with men like him. And you didn’t think that way to talk down on yourself - in fact, you were very happy with yourself. You knew your worth, knew that you would be a good partner to whoever would want to give that a go with you. 

But Tommy was absurdly handsome. Flirtatious. Easy to joke with and talk to and you saw, in that second when he’d asked for your number, exactly how this would all play out. He’d take you out, you’d get swept up in that smile, you’d find yourself in bed with him because duh, and then you’d never hear from him again. 

It was a tale as old as time. It’d happened to you plenty. 

And maybe that was a little unfair of you, judging him before really knowing him. Your therapist did say you had a habit of self-sabotage when it came to dating. But you couldn’t help it; you were not up to getting hurt at this point in your life. And you knew yourself: you knew if you slept with this man, you’d get attached. You just knew it, a few minutes into conversation with him. 

So you’d been taken aback when he’d agreed to a friendship. You were sure he’d blow you off at your suggestion, or a least pretend to entertain it and then never hear from him again. And you certainly didn’t expect him to answer the text you sent him.

You sent a pretty standard message -  telling him just who was texting him and asking how his day was going. Then you’d thrown your phone on the other end of your couch, snuggling under the throw blanket around your shoulders, trying to put Tommy out of your mind and calm your racing heart because it’s not like he was going to text back anyway. 

Your phone started buzzing and you glanced over, mouth dropping open because Tommy was calling you. Your stomach immediately tied together in nerves and you leaned over, grabbing for your phone and just staring at his name as it continued to ring.

Fuck it.

“Hello?”

“Hi you.” His voice on the other end sounded deeper than in person and you snuggled further into your couch, trying not to physically squeal like you were fifteen-years-old, sneaking on the landline late at night to talk to the boy from school you had a crush on. 

“Hope it’s alright m’calling you.” He sounded soft on the other end. “I’ll admit I’m not much of a texting guy.”

Your smile stretched ear-to-ear because that made perfect sense. He didn’t seem like a texting guy, and hearing his voice over the phone was better than reading a few sentences over a message.

“It’s very alright,” you replied. “I hope it’s alright I texted. I didn’t know if you were working or something–”

“Got home a little bit ago.” Talking with Tommy felt light. You immediately relaxed, imagining him on the other end, wherever he was in his home.

He cleared his throat, asked, “What you up to?” and you fell into an easy conversation. He told you about his day - he worked construction jobs with his older brother named Joel, his only sibling and the father of his niece. You could hear the affection in Tommy’s voice that the man had for his older brother, and it delighted you. He told you about a funny thing his niece - Sarah - had said that morning as Tommy had picked up his brother from his house, on the way to the job. You laughed until your cheeks hurt and realized Tommy had a gift for storytelling.

He asked you about your class that day and seemed genuinely interested in your thesis. He asked what your favorite books were, admitted he hadn’t read one in god knows how long, and asked about your family. You talked and talked and talked, and it wasn’t until you yawned that you glanced over at your end table, eyes widening when you realized it was after midnight. 

You bid each other goodnight and he asked if he could call you tomorrow. You were grateful he couldn’t see your dorky, giant grin on your face when you replied yes. 

That night you dreamt of black curls and freckles and a grin as warm as the Texas sun.

* * * 

Within several weeks, Tommy Miller became your friend. 

You talked to him on the phone whenever you could at night, when your work and research was completed or he wasn’t too passed-out exhausted from work. You even got to see his house - a modest, two-bedroom rancher, with typical Ikea furniture and Texas sports team paraphernalia. The natural light was lovely and his hardwood floors looked beautiful. When you commented on them, he had beamed - and told you that he and Joel had installed the floor themselves. You were sufficiently impressed.

It was lovely and painfully obvious a man lived there alone, especially when you realized the most expensive thing in the entire place was his grill on the back deck. You’d teased him, but the steak he’d made you on it was so good that it’d effectively shut you up. 

And that was how you started to spend time with Tommy Miller. Movie nights at his house, phone calls in the evening, showing him your book collection and grabbing a late night burger after he got off a job. Vanessa even met him once, the man meeting you for a happy hour drink. She didn’t stop teasing you about him for a week after that, calling him your “non-boyfriend boyfriend” and telling you you were an idiot. You brushed her off, told her that right now, you were just friends and that was good enough.

“So let me give my coworker Jake your number,” she’d said, her eyes bright, teasing you. You’d pursed your lips, shrugging.

“Fine.” Your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears and Vanessa had scoffed at you. She’d shook her head, taking a sip of her wine. 

“You’re unbelievable,” she’d said and you’d rolled your eyes at her. 

Your newfound friendship with Tommy was nice. He was nice. You didn’t need to complicate it and get your hopes up, thinking that the man wanted more than he was giving. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d made a new friend - you’d been so settled into your life and your routine, you hadn’t had much of change in a little bit. 

Tommy was something new. Something special and sweet and you didn’t really want to complicate it very much. He was probably dating anyway - it wasn’t like you knew every single thing the man did. He owed you nothing, so if he was going out with women on the days you didn’t see him, that was fine by you. 

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

And you were in complete and utter denial the more time you spent with him.

* * *

“What’s so funny?”

Tommy looked up from his phone to find Joel staring at him with narrowed eyes, his beer bottle paused before his lips. Sarah snorted as she took a bite of her burger, a knowing look in her eye. 

Tommy set his phone down on Joel’s kitchen table, leaning back in his seat. “Huh?” 

Joel took a swig of beer and looked at Tommy suspiciously. “You got the biggest dumbass grin on your face as you looked at your phone. What is it?”

Tommy tried to not give himself away and took a drink from his own beer. Because the truth was he’d been laughing at a meme you’d sent him, something stupid in response to a debate about the greatest action movie franchise. You were arguing that Aliens was better than Terminator 2, and Tommy had pointed out it was the same director, then you’d teased him for “mansplaining” and it’d gone back and forth until you’d sent some ridiculous reaction picture. 

“Dad, he’s obviously texting a girl.”

Tommy flicked a homemade french fry at Sarah’s face and she batted it away, snickering. 

“You mind your business,” he told his niece, trying to play it cool. But Joel - the son of a bitch - looked way too interested to let it slide. 

“Who is it? Do I know her? You datin’ her or just textin’?” Joel’s rapid fire questions made Tommy roll his eyes at his big brother. 

“She’s my friend, dipshit.”

Joel snorted and then it was Sarah’s turn to flick a fry, but this time she aimed it at her dad’s head. The fry hit him directly in the center of the forehead, and Tommy and Sarah burst into laughter.

“Hey!” Joel swiped his napkin over his forehead, glaring at Sarah playfully. 

“Uncle Tommy can have friends that are girls.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, can he now?” He leveled a look at his little brother. “You just friends with this girl?”

“Don’t be a dick.” Tommy shoved the last bit of his burger into his mouth. “And yeah, I am, and I really dig her, man. She’s cool. And smart. And funny.”

Joel grinned genuinely at his little brother and Tommy felt the tops of his ears get hot. He knew that look that Joel was giving him. He knew he sounded like a complete dork but he didn’t care. He was grateful for you. For your ridiculous memes and your conversations and for letting him into your life, even if it never got further than what it was. 

Which he was absolutely fine with. Really. 

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Bring her to my soccer game on Saturday! I wanna meet her!”

“Yeah, Tommy!” Joel’s such a little shit. “Bring her, we wanna meet her.”

Tommy shook his head, looking between his older brother and his niece. They looked at him with expectant expressions, and Tommy finally relented. He knew he wouldn’t win this argument and a part of him didn’t want to. The thought of you joining them for one of Sarah’s games - the thought of introducing you to his people - made his stomach swoop in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Tommy’s phone buzzed and your name came up with a text that said, Anyway, hope you’re having a nice night. :) 

He didn’t try to hide the smile that time. 

“Yeah, maybe I will bring ‘er.” 

* * * 

The sun beat down on the back of your neck and you were grateful for your choice to wear your hair pulled up and out of your face. The Texas almost-summer-but-still-technically-spring weather was brutal, and it was hot on the soccer field today as you sat beside Tommy and his brother, watching tweens run around and play like their life depended on it. 

When Tommy had invited you to his niece’s soccer game, you had been floored. You’d heard a lot about Joel and Sarah, and you didn’t admit it to him, but you’d been wanting to meet them for awhile. Once you immediately said absolutely to attending the game, your nerves set in. Would Joel grill you about your relationship to his brother? Would he question why you weren’t dating? Would you have to deflect questions in order to stay away from the true reason why you were afraid to admit to your feelings: you didn’t want to get hurt.

But the second Tommy picked you up in his truck with a big smile on his face, the second you both walked across the parking lot and to the field, the second you met Joel Miller and his sweet, bright-eyed daughter, all of those nerves and that fear melted away. You were shocked at how right it all felt. You wished Sarah good luck before she jogged onto the field, and the smile she gave you immediately made you feel welcome. 

You scrunched your nose, too-big sunglasses sliding down your face. Tommy’d given you his to wear, noticing you squinting in the harsh sun. He looked over at you now, smirking. 

“Don’t you dare make fun of me,” you said to him, pushing the sunglasses up your nose. He barked out a laugh and put his hands up in mock defense. 

“I ain’t sayin’ a word.” 

Joel - who was sitting on the other side of Tommy - held his water bottle up to his lips. “If my little brother makes fun of you, he’s walking home.”

“I drove her here!” Tommy’s indignant pout made him sound like he was twelve. Your smile was embarrassingly big. 

“Doesn’t mean she can’t drive your truck without you in it.” Joel threw you a smirk, conspiratory in nature, like the both of you were in on a joke together. It made you feel included and you were grateful for it, lodging the feeling away beneath your ribcage. 

“You know, that’s a good idea, Joel.” You turned to to angle your body toward Tommy, your hands resting on the arms of the fold-out chair he’d brought for you. You reached up, lowering the sunglasses and peered at him dramatically, over the lenses. “I always wanted a truck of my own. Yours will do nicely.”

Tommy’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze warmer than the sunshine. 

“I wasn’t gonna make fun’a you.” He cleared his throat, his eyes traveling over your face. His voice was low, so only you could hear. “Was just gonna say you look good in my stuff.” 

Your mouth dropped open and you found no words came to you. Tommy had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, before he stood up, declaring he needed another water bottle and sauntered away toward the snack bar, a hand in his jeans pocket. The very way he carried himself told you he knew exactly how hard you heart was beating. 

You were flustered, but you managed to get it together when Joel said your name. Your attention flicked over to him. 

“It’s nice to finally meet the girl that’s been the reason for my brother’s good mood for the last few months.”

Your face heated and you smiled. “I don’t know about all that. Tommy’s always in a good mood.”

Joel studied you for a moment, an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Yeah, but it’s been different. He likes you. A lot.”

Your fingers played with the hem of your sundress, falling to the middle of your thigh. “Well now you’re just getting my hopes up, Joel. He likes me as good as he likes any of his friends.”

Joel deadpanned a knowing look at you and then took a breath. His eyes traveled back to the field, watching as Sarah joined her team for a time-out huddle. When he spoke, his eyes remained on the field, but you felt like his entire attention was on you.

“My brother’s spent his entire life tryin’ to prove he’s good enough. Good enough for our parents, good enough for me, good enough for the fuckin’ United States army.” Joel took a breath, and you got the sense that what he was saying to you was really important. “I would put money on the fact that he sure as hell don’t feel good enough for you.”

You swallowed, your stomach full of butterflies. “I–I don’t–”

Finally, Joel looked at you, and his gaze was as warm as Tommy’s. You could see the similarity in their faces, their brown puppy-dog eyes and their uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the only person in the entire place. 

“I’m tellin’ you this because I can see how y’all are around each other and I’ve spent - what - an hour around you two?” He shook his head. “And I would fuckin’ hate for you to walk away from this because my brother is too up his own damn ass to realize he does deserve the best. And I think I’m right in assuming he makes you happy.” 

You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to. “He makes me so happy.”

Joel gave you a genuine smile. He nodded. “He’s the best man I know.”

Your heart beat a tender rhythm, the love radiating off of Joel. You were amazed by it, nearly consumed by it. These Miller brothers are good men. I know that. I can feel it. 

Your conversation didn’t continue because Tommy was back, plopping down in his seat between you and Joel. He handed you a water. 

“Figured you could use one too,” he told you. Over his shoulder, your saw Joel’s knowing look, his eyebrows raised,  and you tried not to blush. 

You took the water bottle from his hand, your smile stretching across your face. “Thanks, Tommy.” He grinned at you, his bronzed skin glistening in the sunshine, his freckles scattered across his nose like tiny constellations. I’m down bad for this man. 

The rest of the game passed in a pleasant hour. You made easy conversation with Joel and Tommy, and when Sarah’s team brought home the victory, you were on your feet with the rest of the parents and families, cheering and yelling through cupped hands. 

Joel explained it was tradition to get ice cream after the games - win or lose. Sarah - with her big, Miller eyes - told you matter-of-factly you simply had to join for this post-game tradition. You told her you’ve never turned down an opportunity for ice cream once in your life.

As you sat at an outdoor table at the ice-cream parlor, licking the strawberry cone Tommy insisted on buying for you, you realized you were happier than you ever remembered being. The sun was starting to settle low in the sky, and the soundtrack of Joel and Tommy’s laughter, of Sarah’s snarky comments - it all created a calmness in you. 

I could get used to this. Tommy caught your eye, mid-conversation with Joel. He grinned at you without ever breaking conversation, a silent communication to you saying I’m glad you’re here.

You smiled down into your ice cream.

I’m glad I am too, Tommy. I’m right where I’m meant to be.

* * * 

It happened on a random Tuesday in late May. 

Tommy knew you’d been having a shitty day. You’d overslept for your meeting with your advisor,  a citation source for your thesis hadn’t worked out, and you’d gotten a flat tire on your way home. When you had texted Tommy a picture of the flat with an angry face, he immediately asked if he needed to pick you up. You told him Triple A was on their way, then made a joke about how you’d run over the nail just a few minutes from his house. He said it was fate then, since he was planning on asking you to come over and have dinner with him.

You’d agreed to head to his house after Triple A replaced your wheel. After double checking that you were safe, off the road, and okay to wait for them, Tommy had started on dinner. 

It was golden hour when you arrived to his house, bursting through his front door like a shot of espresso. 

“Honey, I’m hooooooome!” You bellowed the cheesy line, throwing your bag on the couch. Tommy laughed and paused in his work - chopping a red bell pepper for the skewers he was going to toss on the grill. He looked over his shoulder at you, a giant smile on his face, and his heart thudded as it always did when you were around.

You just looked so perfect with your messy hair from a long day, your sparkling eyes, standing in his doorway, lighting up like a Texas firefly. 

I want this. I want this with you. Forever.

You started to make your way into the kitchen, but your eyes flickered over to his dining table. He followed your eye-line and where it came to rest: on the vase of lavender in the center. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the flowers. You got a soft look in your eye as you walked toward the table, and when you reached it, your fingers reached out to graze the petals.

“Lavendar?”

Tommy cleared his throat, turning around so he could lean against the counter. He took the dish towel from where it rested on his shoulder and wiped his hands. He felt nervous, suddenly. Like you’d opened up his heart, looked right in and saw it all. 

“I hear they’re good for when you’re havin’ your mornin’ coffee. Brightens things up.” 

You met his gaze, a smile taking over your face as you took him in. “When’d you get these?”

Tommy put the towel down on the counter, resting his hands behind him on either side, the cool surface grounding him. 

“The other day.” Fuck it. “I saw them and I wanted them. They always remind me of you.”

He could hear the audible gasp you made, the sharp intake of breath. Your eyes were wet but you didn’t look sad - you looked amazed. Tommy felt himself teetering on the edge and he made a decision then. A decision that was months in the making, a decision that honestly had been in motion since the first time he’d laid eyes on you. 

He pushed off the counter, standing to his full height. Because when a man bared his soul, he did it with dignity.

“I love you.” The words fell out of his mouth effortlessly, danced between the two of you. “I’m in love with you, and – and if all you want with me is friendship, I respect that but I just–I had to tell you, ‘cuz–”

“Tommy.” 

“Cuz I can’t keep it in anymore–”

“Tommy.”

He stopped his rambling and he realized his chest was rising and falling faster than it was a minute ago. You were smiling at him, a tear traveling lazily down your cheek. 

You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.

You took a breath, your hands skating down the front of your dress. 

“I need you to come over here, put your hands on my hips, and kiss me.” 

He felt a flame lick up his spine. Your stare was heavy, and the way you licked your lips made him want to groan. 

And then when you suddenly got bashful, tacking on a, “If you want” �� he broke. 

His legs carried him over to you in a few strides. His left hand landed on your hip, his right hand went into your hair, and right before his lips met yours, he rasped, “I want.”

Tommy bent down as you lifted up and when your lips finally connected, he felt like it’d taken forever and no time at all to get here. His hand flexed against your hip and you made a little whimpering noise as you parted your lips. He didn’t waste any second - his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he licked into your mouth. Your hands made their way to his curls and you pulled, causing Tommy to moan deep in his throat.

You pulled away and he chased your lips and you were panting, gasping for air. 

“I love you, Tommy Miller,” you breathed in the space between your mouths. “I love you so much.” 

Tommy couldn’t stop himself from grinning - it spread wide across his face, his hand in your hair moving to cup your jaw. His thumb grazed against your cheek. 

“That makes me a very lucky man,” he told you. You pressed yourself against him, your hands sliding down around his neck. You pulled him by his flannel, connecting your mouths again and if Tommy thought the first kiss with you was good, this was something else. 

You kissed with your entire body. He could feel your curves against him, and his hand on your hip moved to your ass. He grabbed a handful and you moaned, spreading your pretty legs. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and Tommy looked down between you, his forehead resting against yours. He moved his knee in between your legs, pressing it against your core and you gasped. 

“Oh,” you breathed, grinding against his denim-covered knee. The sounds you were making were enough to make him come, make him pant, make him beg. He’d allowed his mind to go here before, imagine what it’d be like to make you come apart with his fingers and his tongue, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience the real thing. It was worth the wait.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped as you leaned your head back, breath coming quickly from your mouth. His lips found the pulse point at your neck and your breathless yes, like that made him strain against his jeans.

I want you I want you I want you.

He moved his hands under your ass, lifting and placing you on the edge of the table. You wasted no time wrapping your legs around his hips, drawing him even closer. He leaned his right palm flat on the table behind you, crowding you, his left hand coming up cradle your jaw. You opened your eyes and the love and tenderness in them almost made him buckle. 

“I’m so glad you came in to get flowers that day,” you told him, your eyes wet again. Tommy lost his breath for a moment and then leaned down, pressing his lips against yours before pulling back. 

“Does that mean you’ll be my girl?”

Your legs squeezed around him and Tommy grunted, his hands landing on your thighs, pushing your dress up around your waist. 

You’re everything. How’d I fuckin’ get so lucky?

You looked up at him through your lashes, your hands coming up to hold his face in your hands. 

“I already am.”

* * * 

[the-knightmare]

A Queen's Choice

Day 2 of zelink week, hosted by @zelinkcommunity, for the prompt 'Forbidden.'

Also on A03: Here

At first, it was easy to forget that Tetra was royalty. They were just Link and Tetra, sailing into new territory to find a place to build a New Hyrule. After the fight against Ganondorf and returning Aryll to Outset, Link had felt restless at the idea of staying behind and jumped at the chance to join Tetra’s crew.

Friendship became something else halfway through their journey, at least for Link, it was hard to tell with Tetra. But he noticed her eyes watching him more, her hand brushing his when there was no need to touch, and the pink that tinged her cheeks when he caught her staring.

It was only after they had settled into an established New Hyrule that they could spend any time alone. Tetra would invite him to explore the area around the castle, which was more like trading fort than anything, and insisted on holding his hand.

“So you won’t get lost”

It was after one of these expeditions that Link overheard some of the new politicians talking about proper court hierarchy. One made it clear that Link, even after helping save the world, was just a common boy from Outset and disapproved his closeness with Queen Zelda. At first, Link thought it was the use of ‘Zelda’ instead of Tetra that made his stomach twist. It was later that night, when the words were turning over in his mind as he stared at the ceiling, that Link realized what had bothered him.

Never had he heard of a queen marrying a commoner in any of the stories his grandmother told or in the histories of the old kingdoms brought to their growing library. Plenty of common girls were chosen by princes to live happily ever after, but even common-born heroes faded back into obscurity after their adventures while queens would marry some nobleman.

Link did not want to fade into the background while Tetra married someone else. He wanted to spend his days with Tetra; exploring, goofing off, even learning how to run a kingdom and the boring politics were better by her side. Just the thought of someone else doing those things with her made his stomach clench. Those thoughts circled his mind for the rest of the day and into the evening. Sleep was unrestful that night, the weight of his thoughts waking him up fitfully.

“Hey, aren’t we supposed to be looking for resources or whatever excuse we concocted to get out today?” Tetra asked.

When he only nodded, Tetra sighed and threw her hands into the air.

“Alright, fess up, what’s got you so focused that Nico could sneak up on you?”

Link fidgeted, thinking about the ways he could say what was on his mind without labeling their relationship. He knew how he felt about Tetra. How Tetra felt about him, Link wasn’t so sure. He’d never told her about his budding feelings during their time at sea. Their friendship was too important to ruin with something Tetra might reject.

“Isn’t it forbidden or something for a commoner to hang around a queen so much?” Link blurted, unable to swallow his anxiety.

“That’s what’s been bugging you? I can hang around anyone I want to, and if anyone thinks otherwise than that’s too bad,” Tetra said laughing, “besides, I like our time together outside of the castle.”

“I don’t think queens are allowed to be with just anyone and I’m just some guy from Outset Island,” Link said, making sure Tetra would understand his concern.

Instead, she just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I’m a pirate captain and now the queen of New Hyrule; I’m pretty sure I can marry some guy from Outset Island if I want.”

Link felt many things at once at her words. His stomach twisted in a knot, his heart stopped then started beating much faster, and his face flushed with heat. Marry him. He had not said anything about marrying Tetra, and yet she had said…

“You want to marry me?”

Pink tinged Tetra’s face and for the barest second her Link saw her bravado slip. It was only brief, before she composed her features into a confident smile.

“You thought you could escape me, huh? Well too bad! You’re the only one I’d want to marry, so why not? And I know those stuffy politicians will start bugging me about that soon.”

He could feel the goofy smile spreading across his face and didn’t try to stop it. Which only deepened the blush on Tetra’s cheeks.

“I mean, I can’t force you or anything, if you really wanted, I’ll drop you back on Outset and leave you alone. Nothing has to-”

“I’ll marry you.”

Link’s words seemed to leave the ever-confident captain speechless. She spluttered a little, her blush turning into a blotchy red flush down her neck. He found it, as he did with however she looked, quite attractive.

“There’s a proper way of doing this, I didn’t even ask!”

“Didn’t you just say that you’re the queen and you can marry me if you want to?”

“That wasn’t a proposal!”

“In that case,” Link said, kneeling before Tetra, “will you marry me?”

Tetra stilled, staring at him with a look in her eyes that Link had come to love almost as much as the woman looking at him.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course, I love you.” The confession was simply said, as if Link regularly spoke those words every day. In a sense, he supposed he had in other ways, which only made it so much easier to say it plainly.

Tetra’s mouth opened and shut, eyes never leaving his face. As the silence stretched, Link’s knee began to hurt, and he wondered if he should stand up or stay kneeling. Perhaps it had been a mistake to tell her his feelings, or perhaps Link had mistaken her friendship for romantic affection? Nerves twisted his gut for the second time that day as he waited for a response.

“Stand up.”

Link blinked; not sure he had heard correctly over the beating of his heart.

“I said, stand up.” Tetra’s face gave nothing of what she was thinking away.

“Your knee was hurting, wasn’t it?” Tetra asked, moving towards him.

Nodding, Link watched as Tetra came to a stop just a step away. Something had shifted in Tetra’s face as she moved, a determined glint paired with mischief. Suddenly, her face was a hair away from his, and her breath ghosted against his lips as she spoke.

“I love you too.”

Wrapping his arms around Tetra’s waist, Link spun them around in a half circle before his knee buckled. Laughing, Tetra tried to untangle herself from their half-tipped over state unsuccessfully, as Link kept her pressed to his chest.

“And I’ll marry you too, I don’t see anyone better coming along anytime soon.” Tetra’s face was pressed into his shoulder, but Link could still feel the wide smile on her face that matched his own.

[profic-orbot]

I'm back in the sonic fandom, and the anti culture is starting to seriously affect my mental health and it's made it not fun. I thought it would be fine, even nice, as now tumblr has working tag filters; so I wouldn't see lots of pornography, which isn't my thing. But instead, I'm scared to reblog a new ship artist, interact with people I haven't background checked, panicking if I realise a joke I've made could be seen as suggestive, and stopped won't make any romance stuff altogether in case I fall foul of the rules.

I do want to write romance, specifically of aged-up characters. I don't want to write smut as it's not my thing, but I do want to be able to include complicated/ toxic relationships, fade to blacks, and other adult themes. I don't actually even understand why these things aren't okay to write or why we aren't allowed to age up characters. But hey, I want friends, so I wonder if I should put all of those in a dni, too.

Sometimes I find blogs who don't share antiship or proship stuff, and I sort of want to ask if they feel the same as I do. But I'd never want to put that on them to share: they could be just like me, and trying to keep their heads down to avoid being noticed.

Sorry for the askbox dump. I hope this doesn't bother you, I just wanted to say something to someone who might understand. You don't need to respond, or publish this. Thanks for running your blog.

🔴 No need to apologize ; we appreciate your story, and sympathize quite a lot.

🔴 In our experience, we've seen quite a few writers and artists add proship to their DNI out of fear of harassment rather than anything else. Most people are ship and let ship, and really don't care that much about what others are getting into in fandom.

🔴 However, there appears to be this desire to make sure the artists one engages with are "the right kind" which just doesn't make sense to us...

🔴 We understand your perspective, and we think you should draw and write what you like, while blocking liberally. At the end of the day, you can at least confidently know who you are and what you like, and that is liberating in and of itself.

[mr-bugs]

My mind is a curse I cannot escape

warnings: generally dark themes, this is a collection of my recent thoughts about life and are not organized (i think) so heavy themes ahead proceed with caution stay safe and uhh yeah!

oh and its like 900+ words so uhhh strap in ig idk

I’m tired.

And yet..

Sleep evades me like the plague.

I’m tired in a different sense.

Tired of just being a pawn in her game to win against him.

I’ve gotten used to it at this point.

If I hadn’t I would’ve died along the way.

Every little fight..

Every little disagreement.

How I’ve grown to hate the idea of family.

The world has shown me examples of happy, accepting families.

Why must I be taunted like this?

It’s like holding a treat in front of a dog but it’s tied to a stick on its back so that it will forever be out of reach.

The universe owes me such things.

It’s shameful to say I’m jealous of the love shared by those families but I am only mortal.

I was denied such advantages, of course I would be jealous.

Jealous of the fact I have to live with the emotional baggage they lack.

The concept of family has been ruined for me.

And I think I’m okay with that.

Afterall, it’s not exactly my fault, is it?

That they argue.

That they lie.

That they cheat.

It’s not my fault they are like this.

Or their parents, or their parents’ parents, and so on and so forth.

Even then I feel useless for not being able to do anything.

The world around me is a blurry haze and yet I can’t seem to care less.

Days just faze by like water slipping through your fingers.

I try to grasp at the vague silhouettes and yet nothing comes from it.

Vague promises of greatness and love.

But I do not feel such things.

My mind is a constant state of numbness.

I am my own curse that I cannot escape from.

I was never blessed with such things.

Maybe if I had been I wouldn’t be such a cold monster.

A creature doomed to never be loved.

To never feel the kindness that heals the heart.

I don’t like this game the universe is playing.

I want to be loved, I want to feel as if I matter.

Death seems to bring that feeling.

When you’re dead people will talk about how much you mattered but when you’re alive nobody listens to your pleads for help.

It’s an amusing contradiction, isn’t it.

How the human mind amuses me.

I don’t exactly want to die but the idea of eternal rest doesn’t bother me as much as it should.

I’ve accepted the fact I will die one day, I suppose.

My flesh shall rot away and I will be nothing but bones.

Then my bones will be grinded down and to dust I shall return.

My existence is a poorly written drama show and I am a side character in it.

I am watching my life from the perspective of a viewer live as I act it.

A player in a game where I am the protagonist.

A side character of my own story.

A pawn in my own game.

Perhaps I’ve come to terms with that.

Maybe I’m okay with it.

Just fading into the background.

Another number to add to the census.

Perhaps I won’t amount to anything.

My name will be lost to time and time will carry on as if nothing happened.

My life is slipping away through the cracks while I watch uselessly.

What happened?

I was such a smart kid.

A “gifted” kid, if you will.

I was praised for being such an exemplary student.

But as I got older it turned into a basic expectation.

I lost what made me feel like I was worthy of praise.

Something that made me feel as if I was worth noticing.

But now.

Now nothing is good enough.

I have to keep trying.

Rip and tear at myself just to feel that praise once more.

To feel noticed.

And yet.

The praise I receive doesn’t feel.. Right

I don’t deserve it.

The kind words.

I shouldn’t be allowed to experience such nice things.

I haven’t done well enough.

Not enough.

Never. Enough.

Everything I do is mediocre.

I need to try harder.

Till my bones wear down and till I cannot give no more.

It will never be enough.

An endless cycle of hellish torment that will never cease.

An unlovable monster born from a cruel society.

Too much to be loved and too doubtful to accept it.

Even then it claws its way through life, just for a distant star in the sky.

How his words soothe me.

How his presence keeps me alive.

A star I love and yet cannot touch for my claws will ruin it.

Everything I’ve let go has my marks on it.

My blood.

My words.

My touch.

I do not deserve to have nice things.

But, I cannot let him go.

He is my light.

My guiding star in the treacherous seas.

He is a flower I cannot touch for my rotten hands will wilt him.

Maybe he finds me boring.

Too much.

Too little.

Too uncaring.

Too caring.

He will get tired of me.

He will not love me one day.

I do not deserve him.

One day he will figure out I am not enough for him and leave.

I think I am okay with that.

Not really, I’d die if that happened.

But I shall rest easy knowing that he chose someone better.

I’ll rest easy knowing he’s happy.

[backtothestart02]

Not Just a First Love - 1/? | Dirty Dancing (2017) fanfiction

A/N: I just watched this remake of Dirty Dancing tonight, and while the original is better, I still got engrossed in this one and felt the need to change that ending! Who knows when I'll update again, but I'll be more inclined to if I get positive feedback! Check it out if you're interested! This first chap is just a tweaked version of the ending scene of the movie, but I have many more ideas for where this could go. Enjoy.

...

Synopsis: Nothing is ever by chance. Johnny Castle believes that especially when it comes to Baby.

...

Chapter 1 -

The play brought tears to her eyes, especially the choreography, and she knew why. It wasn’t just because the production took inspiration from her first novel of the summer her life changed forever.

It was the reason the dancing was so special.

It was…Johnny.

Ten years had passed. They’d gone on their separate paths, and though it was heartbreaking at first, they’d both moved on – she became a doctor and he found his true calling on Broadway. She was engaged now, that wedding just a month away now. And yet, as excited as she was for those upcoming nuptials, she felt those feelings of love and anticipation fade to the background as she was drawn back into the fairytale drama the summer she turned 18 had been.

She’d fallen in love for real that summer, and she could almost taste what that had felt like, watching the dancers and seeing the story unfold.

Inevitably though, the play ended and people started to exit the theater. She was the last one there in fact. Still wiping tears from her eyes at the memories the production had brought to the forefront of her mind and heart, she almost missed the individual whose mouth fell open at the mere sight of her.

She was older now, wearing make-up with a longer hairstyle, but there was no mistaking who she was. Just like him, looking a bit more dapper in more sophisticated clothing and something akin to bangs draped across part of his forehead.

“Baby?”

She gasped and turned around.

“F-Frances, I mean.”

He cracked a grin, the same one that made her weak at the knees at 18.

“You recognized me,” she said, smiling tremulously.

“Your face is on the back of your book,” he confided, and her smile widened. “Obviously I’ve read it a hundred times.”

She blushed.

“A hundred times, huh?”

And they stood there, bashfully smiling, living in the moment for as long as it would last.

“The play was incredible,” she said, breaking free of the web she was getting tangled in. “I noticed your choreography right off the bat.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She giggled. “Took me back.”

“Well, your book was the inspiration…and that summer. That summer changed everything for me, Baby.”

He was so serious now that she didn’t bother to correct him.

��For me, too,” she added.

“I never thought I’d make it on Broadway until you convinced me.”

“It definitely took some convincing.”

“Your words stuck with me.”

Her heart beat faster.

“Your dancing stuck with me.”

She licked her lips.

Then, from behind her a man came down the aisle, muttering to himself about something. Johnny wasn’t paying much attention, but Frances recognized who it was immediately.

“Frances, for god sakes, what is taking so lo-”

“Charlie,” she said warmly, ignoring his increasing temper. “I’d like you to meet Johnny. Johnny Castle. He did the choreography for the play tonight.”

Charlie blinked, confused, and then shook Johnny’s extended hand.

“Pleasure.” Johnny smiled. “And who are-”

“Charlie is my fiancé,” she said, avoiding eye contact from both men for a few brief moments.

“What a lucky guy,” Johnny said, and there was no mistaking how strained his voice was.

“Yeah. Right.” Charlie turned to Frances and whispered something that appeared to involve something quite urgent.

“Okay, I’ll be right out.”

He sighed, didn’t bother to look at Johnny again, and strutted back up the aisle into the lobby.

“He seems delightful,” Johnny commented, and she allowed herself to laugh.

“He’s just stressed, under pressure…I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“I do.”

A brief moment of silence, and then—

“Well, I should g-”

“I should probably let y-”

A chuckle followed by a smile.

“It was good seeing you again, Johnny. Truly.”

He leaned in for a hug, and she gave it to him. More than, actually. She sunk into it, breathed it in, breathed him in, and was transported to another time.

When they parted, tears were in her eyes again.

“You still dance?” he asked. “I know that’s not in your bio.”

She laughed.

“I take a salsa class once a week just down the road from here. It’s all the time I can spare as a d-”

“Doctor,” he finished. “Sure.” He smiled. “Well, keep that up. Don’t ever stop dancing.”

He winked, and she felt them again. Butterflies.

“Goodbye, Johnny,” she said at last, forcing herself to turn towards the exit.

“Bye, Baby,” he called back, and she smiled to herself on the way out. No one ever called her that anymore, and she wouldn’t let a single soul…except him.

[captainfinnsboat]

Bruce: Good evening, everyone. Sorry I can't be there in person, I sustained an injury during a patrol last night and Alfred has advised against any strenuous activities.

Clark: It's fine, Bruce. Take all the time you need.

Bruce: Right. First order of business, Billy (Captain Marvel); you've gotta stop transforming indoors.

Billy: A lot of the bad guys have been indoors recently! What do you want me to do?

Bruce: I dunno, just figure it out. We can't keep using Oliver's arrow fund to pay for your lightning damage.

Oliver: Hey, what the fu-

*muffled arguing between batkids, Justice league shares confused looks*

Bruce, now mildly distracted: Uuuuuuh... Oliver, lets-

*Cut to the Robins*

Jason: Damien, If you call yourself "The Superior Robin" one more time-

Dick: Oh-ho! That's rich coming from Jason "memorialized" Todd!

Jason: *Scoff* Come on, Dick. Bruce only took me in because you left. You're the favorite Robin.

Tim: Yeah, that's why Bruce never forgets your birthday, or your death day, or the day of your adoption, or your bloodtype, or-

*arguing fades into the background, cut to the Justice League*

Bruce: ...keep this professional. Next order of business, Constantine; how's the JLD?

John Constantine: No batshit crazy magicians or monsters to report. Zatanna has been leading some "group bonding" activities while business is slow.

Bruce writes something down: That's great to hear. How is that-

*Fighting reaches a crescendo*

Bruce: One moment. *Drops The Batman voice* Hey Cass?

Cass, walking into the room: Yes?

Bruce: Can you get them to stop arguing?

Cass, way too excited: Sure!

Bruce: Thanks, sweety.

*Cass walks into the other room, the scene stays with Bruce.*

Jason: Oh, hey Cass. What's u- *WHACK* aaaaAAAAAAAH!

Cass, firmly: Be nice to each other!

Bruce: *Sighing and rubbing his face*

This is the rest of the argument, as well.

Jason: Damien, If you call yourself "The Superior Robin" one more time-

Tim: Oh-ho! That's rich coming from Jason "memorialized" Todd!

Jason: *Scoff* Come on, man. Bruce only did that because he felt guilty.

Dick, very sarcastic: Sure, Jay, that's also why Bruce never forgets your birthday, or your death day, or the day of your adoption, or your blood type, or-

Tim: He called me Damien, Cass, and Duke the other day. He can barely bother to remember my name!

Dick, gesturing wildly: See?!

Jason: At least he didn't replace you!

Dick: Newsflash, YOU were MY replacement! All of you are MY replacements!

Steph: Ugh, we get it! You're old and bitter now! Nobody cares, Dick-asaur!

Tim: Excuse me, this is a family discussion. No ex-girlfriends allowed.

Steph: As a former "replacement," I have invited myself to your pissing contest.

Damien: I, the superior robin, have never been replaced.

Dick, Tim, Jason, Steph; very loud: Give it time!

*Room erupts into unintelligible bickering, I have no idea what I would even say*

*Cass walks in, yadda yadda*

I wrote a whole ass batfam skit. I'm torn now between just posting the script on Tumblr, or acting it out for tiktok....

[bokutizer]

➵ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

summary : Iwaizumi doesn't seem to notice how many gazes his looks attract, however neither do you realize that you are the only one who can attract his gaze tags : fem!reader, fluff, some sexual tension between reader and iwa a/n : I. want. him.

The towel's texture felt rough against your skin as you wiped the sweat away that had accumulated along your temples and forehead. Your face felt hot and you were out of breath, your legs feeling as if they were somewhere between being on fire and having transformed into raspberry jelly. But you felt good (even though you will probably need a wheelchair after today's leg day).

"Here." your shoulders jerked at the sudden cold feeling on your neck, followed by a low hiss leaving your lips until you finally snapped the cold bottle of water away from Iwaizumi. Despite being aware that it would be such a pity to ruin a face as handsome as his, you had to give your all to suppress the urge to punch that teasing smirk off his face.

"Thanks, you jerk." you muttered falsely-offended before uncapping the bottle, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat as you took a sip of it.

"Hey. Language, doll." he warned playfully before tipping his head back to drink out of his own bottle. If your heart had skipped a beat at his little term of endearment, it had probably been its last beat because you could swear your pulse disappeared at the sight in front of you.

The way Iwaizumi's bronze skin gleamed under the lights in the gym thanks to the light sheen of sweat coating it, the way his Adam's apple bobbed after every chug of water he took, the way his white tank top clung to his torso, defining every single ridge of muscle -

Yeah, Japan's setters were pretty, but their trainer? Wow. And by the way he attracted nearly every single female's gaze in the room right now, you could clearly tell that you were not the only one who thought like that.

"God, Makki was not lying. They really are ogling you." a tinge of disbelief was audible in your voice as you offered Iwaizumi a mischievous smile.

"Who?" he seemed genuinely confused while he swiped the back of his hand over the last few traces of water over his upper lip before discarding the now empty bottle to the side.

"Oh, come on. Don't give me that. They don't even bother to hide it." your body started moving backwards as you wondered why you even bothered to explain it to him. Iwaizumi had never been the kind of man who thrived under women's attention and praises, preferring to leave that department to his best friend. Yet sometimes you wondered if he was really as ignorant as he pretended to be. You wondered if he was also oblivious to your-

A gasp escaped your mouth as you felt Iwaizumi's hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you swiftly against him. With barely an inch of space between your faces while the both of you stared at each other wide eyed, you could smell the mixture of sweat and Iwaizumi's faded cologne. A sudden heat crept up your face at the firmness of his chest being pressed against your breasts.

"You should be glad I only have eyes for one person in this room." his voice sounded raspy as he spoke, his olive green eyes turning a shade darker before they travelled to a spot on the floor behind you.

You swallowed audibly when you followed his gaze. As your feet had kept moving earlier, your gaze locked on Iwaizumi, you had failed to notice the barbell lying on the mat behind you. He had just saved you from a probably nasty trip.

The grip he had on your wrist was less firm now but rather gentle as you felt his thumb run gently along your pulse point, eliciting a light shiver run through your body. You wondered if he could feel your quickened pulse with your heart pounding like a jackhammer.

"Thanks, Hajime." you said breathlessly, his hand eventually letting go of you and allowing you step away from him. Another beat of silence passed before the strained moan of some guy in the background interrupted this - whatever kind of moment you were having just now.

You both started comically gathering your belongings. "Wow, it's gotten late, huh? Think we should head out, don't we? Give our muscles a lil' break after all that hard work. The volleyball team has an important practice session you have to attend tomorrow, you mentioned, right?" you rambled on mindlessly and for a short moment imagined what it would look like if you just punched yourself right now.

"Oh, yeah! Yeah. You're right. Important practice session-" in your own rush, you failed to notice how flustered Iwaizumi had become, cheeks glowing in a deep shade of pink as his eyes wandered around the room. "Do you, uh, do you want me to wait for you? I could drop you off-"

"No!" you cleared your throat after witnessing him flinch lightly at your rather loud voice. You exhaled deeply while trying to steady it. "I mean, I got here with my own car, remember? But I appreciate it, really."

"Right, completely forgot 'bout that." he admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he watched you back out of the room, now a lot more careful and aware of your surroundings after what had just happened. "So, see you next time, I guess?"

"Yeah." was all you could answer with as you clutched your towel and track suit top further against you, hoping that the grin on your face did not convey the thoughts and feelings that were currently swirling through your brain and heart. "See you."

And just as you were about to head to the locker room, your name fell from his lips and you could not remember the last time you thought your own name sounded so beautiful. "Text me once you get home."

[statticscribbles]

Numbers

Summary: Eddie Munson/Reader; Eddie tries to help you with your eating disorder

TW: Discussion of eating disorders, eating disordered behaviors

“I’ll catch you guys later, I have to get home to work on homework.” You lie, it’s easy enough, you know everyone else has homework so they don’t question it. You make it home changing into work out clothes. You’ve been on your exercise bike for an hour before your parents get home and you cycle for another hour before you shower and work on your homework. You cringe when you’re called for dinner and you reason can cycle for another hour, or get in some crunches and sit-ups before bed so the damage won’t be too bad. You’d hadn’t had breakfast or lunch it was likely 500 for dinner, adding in an extra 100 just to be safe, plus the sugar you’d had in your coffee and then extra just in case you guessed wrong; you’d had around 700 total for the day, pretty high, but it’s what you get for not having an excuse for dinner ready.

You can’t skip eating at the Hellfire Club meeting; you know everyone notices; they keep a closer track of who has half a crust more than allocated than the actual rolls they make. You keep to the shadows of the session, your character isn’t as important as others; so you can sub in, or out when needed. You fade into the background in the Hellfire club despite the fact you’re on the cheer team as a flyer. Small, easy to lift. You hum in satisfaction your scale saying you had dropped two pounds from yesterday. Not enough. You chase the voice away for now; it’s enough for a shake later.

You’re half awake when Chrissy calls into your house, an hour before your alarm; her smile bright.

“Practice in an hour.” You huff nodding.

“Of course. Lemme get dressed?.” You respond stretching and standing before pulling on your work out clothes.

Practice doesn’t take long. You’re about to finish the last lift, where they toss you back. You let them toss you up, you can tell they misjudged something because you smack into the group harder than you thought. One of them falters and drops you, tumbling both of you further into the ground. You lay there for a moment, trying to stop your head spinning. You sit up, staggering slightly as Chrissy rushes over.

“What just happened?” She jerks your arm, clearly concerned as you stumble more.

“Y/N are you okay?” Her eyes widen when you brush yourself off and wince trying to tug the cheer top down.

“You can see your ribs! Are you sick??” Chrissy helps you pull your jacket on.

“I’m fine Chirssy just been forgetting to eat breakfast; with how intense the practice has been; it’s nothing!! I’ve always been tiny!”

“It seems liek you never eat lunch either…” Chrissy scowls a little and you swallow. She huffs a little annoyed but then places her usual smile on her face.

“This isn’t like a thing is it? Like you know; me.” She nods a little and you shake your head.

“I have it under control, it’s not bad I swear.” She keeps the smile on her face but you can see her hands almost clawing at her arms; you wonder how much this upsets her; she wasn’t allowed to go to the bathrooms alone anymore.

——————————————————————————–

You finish getting changed and continue on to class; relieved Chrissy hadn’t  bothered you about eating. You’re still dreading lunch; you’d used up most of your excuses for the past three weeks and you know you’ll have to repeat something. You’re already debating the best one to use.

You avoid most of the Hellfire Club as the rest of the day goes on. They seem content enough to let you have the day to yourself. Although you catch them staring at you when they think you’re not watching.

Eddie Munson leans against the doorway and kisses you as you walk through.

“What if that hadn’t been me?”

“Well it was, besides that’s why I waited.” He laughs and you smile back.

“You know one of these days you’re going to mess up and end up kissing Dustin or someone.” He shakes his head looping his arm around yours.

“Dinner before the session? I’m starved.” He nods eagerly to his van and you smile back.

“Course, I’m stuffed from lunch so I’ll pick at yours.”

“I’ll get extra fries then; so you don’t feel too horrible about being a fry thief.” He hesitates as you loop your arms around his on the bike.

“What was going on with Chrissy? At Cheer practice.”

“Oh I just forgot about how exact the flier routine is, can’t have any fluctuation.”

“You know I bet if you weren’t such a picky eater Chrissy wouldn’t have to practically force feed you protein bars every week.”

“It’s not my fault I have food issues, have you ever eaten a tomato, they’re practically jellyfish level’s of squish, and it’s a vegetable so-“

“Fruit.”

“No we’re not arguing over the tomato again its-“

“A fruit.” Eddie winks before starting his bike, the roar drowning out your counterpoint.

———————————————————————————-

Don’t eat. You don’t need it. You want to be better don’t you? Don’t eat. You don’t need it. You want to be better don’t you? Don’t eat. You don’t need it. You try your best to shake away the thoughts in your head. You’re dreading the after session pizza everyone’s going to get. You cringe deciding not to bother with lunch or breakfast, even skipping the usual sugar in your coffee. Can’t waste anything; you have to eat something at the session; you can’t let anyone else catch you out; it was too close with Chrissy. You don’t know who else they’d tell and you don’t want to risk Eddie catching on. You’re shaking by the time you finish math, and walking to the student lounge is exhausting. You sink into the chair relaxing and pulling a book out to distract yourself. No one bothers you about eating but you catch Eddie watching you and you smile at him.

“Babe we’re going to sit outside, you want to come?” Eddie asks and you nod. You stretch, waiting for a moment to let everyone rush ahead; you know you can use the excuse of throwing your trash from lunch away; despite having managed to fast since after dinner last night. You sigh, readying yourself for the head rush you normally get. You grimace as the yellow and purple spots invade your vision; you can’t help the faint panic, when the spots don’t clear and they begin to migrate across your line of sight, the edges going dark. You stagger forward, at least you think you do, your vision is no longer spotty, just an expanse of black and gray. You can feel someone’s hand on your shoulder, some sort of blurry and fuzzy sound that’s meant to be their voice.

“I can’t see.” You whimper; you think you reach out but you can’t be sure. Suddenly you can feel pressure against your shoulder you sit down, surprised when you feel the couch, you close your eyes, the gray shadows go away replaced by only black. As you open them you find the spots clearing slowly. Eddie staring at you looking terrified. You stand and run before he can say anything.

———————————————————————————–

You’re hovering next to Eddie as he walks with you. He was usually waiting for you. After what Chrissy had said you noticed he was keeping a closer eye on you. All the Hellfire club seemed to be and you’re not sure what’s caused it.

You’re sitting in Eddie’s wedge between him and Dustin. Everyone is fighting over hte extra peperoni pizza they’d gotten; Eddie had been able to cash in an extra coupon which menat the entire group got two extra pizza’s a celebration of the last session of the campaign. You notice Eddie watching you and you raise an eyebrow at him before he turns to Chrissy.

“So what was the problem earlier, with the team?” Chrissy perks up, smiling; while Jason refused to play, he was happy to drop Chrissy off to games.

“Y/N had a little slip up! She forgot breakfast one too many times. So it messed up the other’s expectations of her weight. It’s alright; no big deal.” Eddie can tell chrissy sounds strained and you can see him making a note to mention it to Jason; to keep an eye on her; in case she relapses. You’re thankful you don’t have to worry about Eddie’s concern in that regard. You nudge your pizza slice over to Lucas who grins.

“Thanks Y/N; you sure?”

“Full.”

“Try mine; please babe…” Eddie grins, nudging the meat supreme slice he’s only half finished over. He drops the apparent urgency that he’d used to move his pizza, pulling it back. Chrissy offers you a ride back with her and Jason, but Eddie waves her off.

“Club talk.” He nods to you and you wait for the other official members, nerves building as they don’t appear.

“What’s going on?” He eyes you as you both start to walk home.

“Nothing? I guess I forgot a couple of protein bars during the week.” You shrug; he scowls.

“Seriously, just a couple? Everyone’s noticed. Every single one of the club are worried about you.” You nod, ducking your head.

“Sorry, guess I got caught up in being better at cheering.” You hope it works as an excuse. He stays silent for most of the walk home; as you start toward the turn for your house he catches your wrist.

“Come over?” You nod, stopping into your house to let your parents know you’re staying over at a friends house.

——————————————————————————

You’re lounging on Eddie’s bed, half falling asleep when you hear him talking. You snap fully awake, he seems panicked, you move your hand up to press it to his cheek, when he had gotten so close you’re not sure.

“Christ, what was that? Your eyes went weird and you face turned gray again like-” You blink at him shaking your head.

“Nothing. Just tired.” You snap; he’s moving from his bed and he’s getting himself ready for bed. You shrug off the sweater you’re wearing and move to pull your spare shirt from your bag, wincing at the head rush you get from leaning over.

“Shit.” You squeeze your eyes shut whimpering as everything seems to spin. You can feel Eddie moving you back on the bed.

“Christ, you’re skin and bones babe.” You blink slowly at him; everything is blurry before it clears. You can feel his arms around you, and you realize he’s hugging you; you wrap your arms around him and press your face into his shoulder.

“You’re so warm. So nice.” You hum contently before he pushes something towards you.

“Here, drink.” You scowl at the glass looking at the brown liquid.

“It’s chocolate milk, the only thing in the fridge.”

“When did you go to the fridge?” He scowls nodding back to the glass.

“Just a sip.” You nod putting the glass to your lips and taking slightly more than a sip, lest he decide you need to drink more.

“Good girl.” He hums kissing your forehead. You don’t question it instead yawning as he pulls a blanket over you.

“Get some rest.” You nod expecting him to leave the room, instead he wraps his arms around you, when your body touches his you realize how cold you are, how much you’re shivering as his body warms yours.

——————————————————————————-

You wake up to him nudging you. Shoving a glass of water towards you. You cringe at the other glass; it looks like it’s filled with some sort of smoothie.

“So what’s going on then? With the ‘food issues’ as you call it.” You shrug.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s an eating disorder.”

“It’s not. I have it under control. I’m not doing anything dangerous. Besides not like you know anything about it.” You snap cringing internally about how defensive you are.

“Chrissy Cunningham only got treatment because she passed out in my house.”

“I’m really sorry about that Eddie, but I’m not her.”

“I know you’re not. You’re not as bad as her; you’re not as sick. You don’t make yourself vomit yet, but you will. It’s how she went.” He glares and you brush your hand against his face.

“Eddie I’m-“

“No you will. You almost passed out, so now everyone is gonna make you eat and you’re gonna panic about it and then decide it’s just easier to eat it and throw up later and you’re gonna pretend everything is fine and nothing’s wrong even if your parents drag you off to treatment and you leave!” He shouts and you can’t bite back how angry it makes you.

“Then leave me first! I have everything under control. If you don’t think I do; if you don’t believe me then leave.” You stumble back slightly grabbing your bag.

“Here, I’ll start.” You stagger to the door growling at yourself when the spots return, when your vision blurs completely and you can’t feel if you’re standing anymore. Everything collapses to black and you’re not sure if you’re even on the ground.

——————————————————————————————-

Everything is no longer black, but a blinding gray that makes you try to shift and twist away from it. You open your eyes unaware you had them closed but trying your best not to close them again as you’re greeted by the Hawkin’s Hospital’s peppered ceiling tiles. You sigh, your throat burning uncomfortably as you wiggle in the bed, unsure if you can sit up or not. You lick your lips and swallow counting seventeen dots on the smallest tile, and creating five dragon shapes from the different shadows that linger on the tile next to the smoke alarm.

“What do you mean you’re going to let her out, she’s sick, she needs help!”

“She not underweight, we can’t do anything to help her. We gave her fluids because she was dehydrated but that’s all we can do for now.” You can hear the drone from the doctor and almost block it out save for Eddie’s voice.

“How do I help her? I couldn’t help my friend and-“ His voice crackles and you wince sitting up trying to see him; you know he’s probably crying.

“Just try to listen to her, start small, eat a meal with her, or a snack; just so you know she has something in her system.” You can see the back of his head as he nods and then turns when the Doctor inclines his head slightly. You wish you’d still been pretending to be asleep. How frantic he looks and choppy he moves to your side, his entire body trembling.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left, I just; I know this; it’s safe.” You shrug a little and he nods softly.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t see you as her.”

“No it’s okay; must be hard watching someone you care about go down the same path.”

“Well maybe I can help you turn around? Start on a different one?” You nod leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I’d like that. To be honest the protein bars taste like chalk.” He laughs nodding in agreement.

Support My Writing?

[fanmoose12]

long ago you wrote a pride and prejudice one shot/drabble could you do a second part - the confession scene-?

Hange never thought she'd see something like that, didn't dare to even hope, but right in front of her, so close that she could touch, that she was almost touching, was Mr. Ackerman. With clothes and hair disheveled, soaked to the skin, eyes wide, cheeks flushed and breathing too labored, he clearly was in a state of distress, his famous composure missing, thrown to the wind, abandoned in the harsh, cold rain.

His breaths were coming out of him in form of heavy pants, he must have run here. After her, to her. Why?

Hange stared at him, searched for the answer in his eyes. They were pretty, she realized with a start. No, not just pretty - sharp, but lucid, so rare in color, with a line between silver and blue wiped out, his eyes were beautiful. How did she not see it before?

Another remarkable thing about him, something that Hange too had failed to notice about him, was his mouth. It was no wonder that this part of hin got overlooked by her, considering how often that same mouth spouted opinions that enraged Hange, but now she could see clearly - his lips were pretty too. Thin but rosy in color, they captured her attention. Made her wonder if they really were as soft as they looked. They enticed her, tempted.

What was happening to her?

The silence that was hanging over them was to blame, Hange was almost sure. Silence forced her to start overthinking, and overthinking led her to... This. And this - along with silence - had to be stopped.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, and despite her words - managed to make that question sound like a demand it actually was.

"I wish... I wish to talk with you. About my feelings."

"Feelings?" Hange nearly laughed; the only thing stopping her from it - the sliver of whatever good manners her father had managed to give to her. "What feelings can you have towards me? Did you run up here just to tell me how much you loathe me? You shouldn't have bothered, sir."

"If... if that was the impression that I've given you, I apologize. For nothing could be further from the truth. You see, I..." his hand flexed, twitched towards hers, as though... he wished to take a hold of it, and his eyes... if Hange did not know the man before her better, she'd say that he looked at her, like starving looks at bread, like a prisoner looks up to the sky, like one... looks at someone dearest to them. But she was wrong, she must have been. She knew Mr. Ackerman, knew how arrogant, how flippant and aloof he was, how little he cared about feelings of other people. A man like him wasn't capable of feeling anything, especially to someone as beneath him as Hange Zoe was.

"I love you," he said, murmured softly. "Most ardently."

A moment passed, then two, then three, thunder roared in the background, yet Hange remained lost, so aghast by his words that she couldn't even laugh. Was he... was he serious?

"Pardon me?"

"I understand that it may come as a surprise, considering your opinion of me. But I do love you, and... perhaps, against my better judgement, I hope you will consent to marrying me."

"Against your better judgement..." Hange spoke lowly, close to hissing. Her confusion started to fade, giving way to rising anger. "And what that might mean?"

"You're smart. Surely you're aware of a difference between our social standings. Your family..."

"I see." Hange spoke, cutting him off. She knew what Mr. Ackerman had to say about her family. She did not wish to have him voice it all out. "I'm honored by your proposal, sir. But I must decline it."

"Decline? So flippantly? You barely gave it any thought."

"I'm smart," Hange shot his words back at him. "And my judgment doesn't allow me to even entertain the idea of marrying a man who ruined the happiness of my dear brother."

Mr. Ackerman's face sharpened, his jaw clenched. "I did that," he said levelly. "To protect the happiness of my friend Erwin. The nature of your brother's feelings towards him was unclear, and it concerned me. I merely voiced out that concern."

"And broke two hearts in the process. How can you be a judge of the nature of my brother's feelings when you do not know him? When you know so little about love?"

Her words hurt him, he appeared struck. A cruel part of Hange rejoiced in the lost expression on his face, but another, less fierce one, controlled by far more basic urges... couldn't come up with an excuse to look away from Mr. Ackerman's surprisingly fair features. That string that always existed between them, that made itself known the very first time their eyes met, tensed up, pulling Hange closer to him. With her emotions so at odds, she didn't know what she wished to do more - to slap or kiss him.

She did either. She summoned the remnants of her resolve, clenched her trembling hands in fists, and took a step back.

The string tensed further, threatened to break. Hange wasn't sure what would happen if it did. She wasn't sure she wished to know it.

"I apologize, if I caused you any trouble," Mr. Ackerman said, his voice back under firm control, cold and aloof once again. A mask had slipped back on his face, it reflected nothing - no vulnerability, not a single sign of distress. The glimpse of someone else existing behind that facade was just that - a glimpse; there and gone again. Hange felt weirdly melancholic about it. "And also for taking so much of your time. I wish you well."

He nodded at her, slightly bowed - like a good, disciplined soldier that he was, then promptly turned around, walking back into chilly rain.

Hange stayed behind, watched him, with just one thought bouncing in her mind - what would have happened had she kissed him?

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! I've been in the Hannibal fandom for two years now. Rewatched the show many times and yet Will Graham still confuses me like no one else. Hannibal's design is complex but somewhat understandable after watching the show again again. But Will's design is like a loophole. He can empathise with the killers. That means he can understand them. If he can understand them then why does it feel good for him to kill them? How does it work for him exactly. Does he feel for the killers? If he felt for the killers then what about his violent tendencies towards them?

I've always thought that he is like a God. A God of the killers. The killers offer him their design and he takes sacrifice in return of understanding. But how does his psyche work exactly?

Hello! Oh yes, Will is a very confusing character - it’s his defining trait, and I think that’s because he lies to himself, to others, and to us as an audience. He wants one thing, wants to want another thing, does the third thing, and making sense of it is a complex process.

I think Will’s empathy is a big red herring. I agree with Freddie here: he understands killers because he’s one. He has an almost supernatural gift that helps him recreate the situations almost exactly as they happened. He understands what motivates killers, he might sympathize with them, but I think he might also envy them their freedom to be what they are. They are a reminder of what he is and what he can’t allow himself to have. But most importantly, they are a way for Will to find a compromise with himself and feel better about his true self. Killing bad people is an excuse to justify his darkness, but I don’t think it’s a part of his design per se. 

I agree with you that Will is like a God - he and Hannibal both are. That’s one of the things that separates them from others and elevates them above everyone else. Let’s make an overview of Will’s victims.

1) Hobbs. Hobbs was a monster and Will killed him. But it wasn’t about justice and righteousness, not according to him. Killing a person and feeling pleased that you saved someone versus liking the act of killing itself are drastically different things. Many police officers have to kill in their line of duty. Very few of them get off on the act of murder. Those who do are killers, and they are especially dangerous if they immediately try to follow it up with another murder. Will never once says he liked killing Hobbs because he made this world better. When asked, he says that he felt a sense of power. This is a motivation of many actual serial killers. If Will was just glad that he saved Abigail, he would know it's normal. He wouldn't have been almost on the verge of a break-down and haunted by Hobbs. So it’s not about helping others, it's about murder, even if the victim was a monster.

2) Stammets. Will had no reason to try to kill him (which he admits to doing). Based on his and Hannibal’s talk, he understands that he just wanted to feel what he felt after killing Hobbs, and this makes him panic. So again, no someone. He’s chasing the high of killing someone, and Stammets is the most appropriate victim. 

3) Ingram. On the surface, it looks like Will wanted to avenge Peter and himself by proxy, hence pulling the trigger on Ingram. However, after Hannibal manages to stop him, days later, Will complains about losing a chance to feel how he felt when killing Hobbs. Murder high is his main motivation again - everything else is background or an excuse, depending on your reading.    

4) Randall. Will threw away the gun on purpose to make the murder more intimate. This is not about justice and this is not about protecting himself because by doing this, he reduced his chances. Will also beat Randall up until he wasn't moving. There was no reason to snap his neck. Mutilation, cannibalism that followed, keeping his suit, admitting he enjoyed the murder and calling it his design - this is about murder and WIll’s love for it primarily. The design part is especially important: based on it, we can conclude that Will loves a performance just like Hannibal.  

4) Chiyoh and her prisoner who Will set up. Chiyoh was innocent and didn't deserve to die. Her prisoner might not have been guilty - in fact, Will was the one to suggest that, and yet Will still set him up. It was a game and he was an observer - he lied in waiting for Chiyoh’s scream. He then turned the body of a losing party into art. Very creepy and very like Hannibal.

5) Chilton. Will clearly explained his motivation: he wanted Chilton to pay just because he wanted to be famous and messed with Hannibal by writing his ridiculous book. Will showed no remorse and admitted he did it on purpose.

6) Police officers he set up to be killed by cooperating with Francis. The ones he stepped over without a second look. They were innocent and they were a collateral damage. Will is a cruel God who doesn’t bother with mere mortals as long as it fits his purpose. In this case, his purpose was freeing Hannibal. Everything else was still a blur in his mind. 

7) Francis. Enjoyed the murder, admired the blood, called the situation beautiful.

8) Bedelia. She's innocent in comparison to Will and his body count. If Will faced no repercussions and continued getting more and more people killed, she had every right to go free. But God doesn’t have to be fair, and Will proves it by targeting her. 

What does it all say about Will’s design and philosophy? Apart from Godlike attributes and indifference toward collateral damage, I think Will is led by his bloodlust - he just tends to control it and direct it at specific targets. 

Will might prefer to kill “bad people” in the first two seasons, but it’s the process of murder that excites him. So I see his righteous choices as a preference that helps him justify his dark nature partly, not the core reason for his violence. Hannibal seems to be moved by his interest in human nature and his hunter instinct, but Will, I think, is a truer killer because he actually feels drunk on murder. Unlike Hannibal, he looks downright euphoric when/after he kills Randall and Francis. In TWOTL, Hannibal is more focused on the fact that his dream came true and he and Will killed someone together, but Will seems primarily caught up in the murder after-shocks themselves. Hannibal thinks about Will, Will thinks about how beautiful blood looks under the moonlight.

So, post Fall, I believe that at first, Will will stick to killing bad people like murderers, but once some times passes, his need for justifications will fade. He’ll move on to rude people, only his rude will differ from Hannibal’s. Hannibal doesn’t differentiate between genders and ages, but I think Will will. He’s interested in a feeling of power, like he himself says, in a sense of dominance, so he’ll look forward to a fight. He won’t be interested in attacking a teenager like Cassie, for instance, because the power imbalance is too prominent. But as soon as someone more equal does something Will heavily dislikes, something that wakes his bloodlust (a personal insult, physical or verbal abuse toward other people/animals, etc.), he’ll attack. He’ll be careful - he knows how to avoid being caught, but it will still be unpredictable and passionate. Will is a storm to Hannibal’s calm.

Then there is unpredictability. Hannibal tends to plan everything methodically. The only times we see him being impulsive is in Europe, where he’s descending into self-destructive mode, so it’s not a norm for him. For Will, though? Will consists of unpredictability, and Hannibal is fascinated by it.I think Will is going to kill when an impulse strikes. For example, he might go shopping, without having any dark plans, and end up murdering someone because the circumstances pushed some unfortunate soul onto his path. Will might or might not display the body depending on his mood. Today he can be in an artistic mood, but tomorrow he’ll be in a violent and impatient one, wanting to destroy the body entirely and leaving a total mess behind.

How Will would prefer to kill? In my opinion, in an intimate way. It doesn’t mean he’ll be weaponless, but something like a knife would fit his tastes well. He’d be able to feel it plunge into his victim’s body, tearing through skin and muscles, etc. - personal and intimate. Akin to what he did with Francis - his feral half-snarl, the way he paused after stabbing him before opening him up - it was dark and mesmerizing. Will might get into strangling, too, because it takes a lot of time and it is even more intimate. It might end up being his favorite. So, I can see him using his hands or small weapons to fully sense what he’s doing to a victim. This is something that he has in common with Hannibal because from what we saw, Hannibal also enjoys more intimate and prolonged murders that give him a glimpse into a person’s pain and struggle for life.

[dayfalwastaken]

First allow me to begin by saying that you have in no way disturbed or annoyed me. Once again you’ve made my day with this and for that I thank you!!! I should be the one apologizing since it took me so long to reply to this AMAZING piece, but rest assured that it didn’t bother me, I actually went to sleep with a big smile on my face^^!

Secondly- ekfhwlxbejsmsk, OH MY GOD!!! You’ve made giddy with joy in the same day!! I absolutely adore your fanart, everything from the poses, the designs to the idea and metaphor is astonishing, and I couldn’t be more happy!! Seriously, I was ecstatic when I saw this!

I’m growing more and more in love with this au, and I thank you for making this!! Them Emily siblings trio is such a cool idea, and it’s lovely how you’ve drawn them! Also, the We three kings inspiration works really well, so kudos for that :D!

I have to say this before I get my thoughts mixed up- the faded Marionette, Security Puppet and Shadow Freddy in the background is a really nice touch, and so is the knife!

You’re right about Sammy, as far as we know he got to make it out alive and happy, so the King role is perfect for him, and I really like how you’ve made him with the closed eyes and content pose! We’re actually going to have a Sammy cameo in ATSAT pretty soon!

Your Charlie design is so cute and nice that I just want to hug her- I love her so much I’m making this her canon design 😁😊!! This is going to be how I’ll imagine her from now on. Oh, and the stripes on her and Matt are very cool too 😉! The God role fits her best as well, since she was so important to the series’ events in the previous/future-past timeline!

And now Matthew… Hoh boy, he looks so AWESOME, there are no words to describe how I feel seeing your take on him- it’s just incredible! He looks so hysteric and like, his inner turmoil is very apparent on his face and I love that!! He’s definitely the Sacrifice, because for everyone to live he’s gonna have to suffer, majorly, and well, there’s only so much he can take before he cracks under the pressure. You’ve captured that super well in your art!! But, for better or worse, there are those that will try to prolong his torment for as long as possible. It’s up to Matt if he makes it out till the end with his sanity intact.

Thank you for saying so, and you are very welcome!! Things are about to get real very soon in the next couple of chapters, but the next one is gonna be a nicer, slower chapter between Mari and Matt. Sorry for the wait btw, lately it’s been a bit harder to write, but it’s gonna be worth it!

This was a fantastic piece, and more than I could have ever hoped to receive. I never would’ve thought I’d get to see something like this, and you’re an amazing person and artist for brightening my day just because you liked my fic! Thank you so very much!

I found something from last year that I made for your fanfic,virtual dust all over heh,again sorry if annoy or disturb! Just wanted to show u this last art for today!

This is also to that au thing!

It’s them!! I thought it would be funny to make them some kind of trio,the Emily siblings! Sammy,Charlie and Matt! It’s also based off the “we three kings” song because I couldn’t resist the potential..

To explain easy

King= Sammy because..to be honest,correct me if I’m wrong but out of the Emily family..he got the normal life and lived happily

God= Charlie,her powers and such like giving the gifts of life..well it’s more puppets work I believe from seeing all the chapters.

And now Sacrifice= Matthew,like I said..it gives me a feeling/idea that he’s gonna replace Charlie’s place..either way,for me he has death flags and I have a big feeling he ain’t coming outta this chaotic situation alive..

Also again,I would like to thank you for your work and how amazing it is! Your fanfic is AWESOME and makes me become basically mattpat with all the mystery’s and such! Plus on how you make the characters with the minds,personalities,moralities is FANASTIC!!

Hopefully I hope this old thing would be good enough!