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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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Filthy Fucking Pet

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which Jax Teller owns and abuses you like an actual animal… this shit is mad intense lol and Jax is an absolute alpha male asshole. **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dom!Jax, extreme degradation/dehumanization (master/pet kink, sweat kink, foot worship, ass worship, Jax humiliates you to the max, realistically this is not at all a healthy relationship) Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~2.6k

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

Seriously, this shit is super savage and sick and twisted. You’re basically Jax Teller’s personal house pet. In addition to kinky stuff like rimming and the general vibe of extreme submission, this is also the first fic I’ve posted on tumblr that features foot worshiping (I swear I have no interest in feet irl really – as with pretty much all of the kinks in my kinkiest fics honestly, it’s just a theoretical fantasy that I have only for Charlie, and only in theory… since theoretically I have no limits with my sex god king…)

Anywhore, enough ado about nothing! 🙃 All of the kinks in this fic are mentioned in the above warnings, so please just be mindful of them before you jump in…

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You used to be human. But now... it feels as if you've never been.

From the day you and Jackson first met, way back when, you had fallen in love with the crown prince. Fallen to your knees to serve him as his bitch and that's all you have been ever since. Pleasing him is your business. You're his little whore, and his personal pet: nothing more, nothing less.

Anything but human honestly. You're whatever Jax Teller wants you to be. His kinky sex kitten, his filthy fuckpig, or his damn dirty dog on a leash. It's the best. You don't speak, you don't eat—not human food, at least—you just serve at his feet. This is your whole existence. And God, you feel so fucking blessed.

You spend all your days in his house, day in and day out. The castle of the king of Charming. It's such a gift just to live under the same roof as him. Whenever he's not home, you miss him so badly it hurts. But you keep yourself busy by doing the housework. Constantly crawling on all fours, you use your grubby paws to scrub the floor, and sweep the dust off of his furniture.

Then once you're done with all your chores, you kneel down by the front door, and wait desperately for your master. Just counting the seconds until he returns.

Every time that it happens, the moment you hear the smooth roar of the engine as his bike gets in... then his powerful footsteps approaching the entrance... your heart starts to beat harder, faster. On fire in the presence of Jax. There is always a butt plug stuck deep in your ass, with a big fluffy fake tail attached. You're otherwise naked except for your collar and tags.

And today, as your master comes home after quite a long time far away, you are happier than you can take—your whole body quivers and quakes, and your tail starts to wag.

When Jax finally walks in, you gaze up at him with wide, worshipful eyes. He's so damn beautiful you could cry. You yelp and whimper a few times in greeting, to express how excited you are to be seeing your king. By now your human brain has certainly stopped working. Your hungry tongue hangs from your open mouth, breathing needy and loud, as subhuman growls and thick gobs of drool keep spilling out.

He smiles down at you as he enters, worn out from a long day of being Jax Teller, the baddest motherfucker ever. He must be exhausted, no doubt.

But still his gorgeous grin is big and genuine, bright as the sun, his slicked hair such a brilliant blonde, eyes as deep and as blue as the ocean. Clearly pleased at the sight of your tail-wagging motion, a signal of your pure devotion.

"Happy to see me?" he teases playfully, as if he has to ask. Typical Jax.

You nod gleefully in response to that. Your perfect master reaches down to pat your head, stroking your hair now as you purr for him, showing how much you adore him, as his faithful little pet.

"That's a good slut," he coos. "Go on, you know what to do."

Lowering your face to the ground, as ever eager to go down, upon those words he speaks, you hurry to remove his shoes. Those famously white sneaks. Then tug his socks off with your teeth—damp with a long day's worth of sweat, getting you drunk on his intoxicating scent, the pure essence of Jackson—then press sloppy kisses all over his beautiful feet. Servicing him like this is everything you need.

Ugh, you've missed him so much... full of love and submission, arousal dripping from your crotch, you stuff his socks into your mouth both at once, then lift your face off of the floor and sit back on your heels in your usual kneeling position. Your paws are propped under your chin as you blink up at him. He knows just what you want.

"Look at you, cunt. You wanna play fetch?" he says, chuckling as you bob your dumb head eagerly up and down. It's so much fun when he rolls his sweaty socks into a ball and throws it all over the house, for you to chase around. Playing that game is such a privilege. "Hmm, I would... but I'm not in the mood. Master's too fucking tired. Too bad for you, bitch."

Aw. Too bad indeed. Wallowing in self-pity, you pout and hang your head in a deep bow, but you know better than to plead. He turns to walk away now, and you follow at his feet. Crawling as you are it's always hard to keep up with his speed.

He's yawning by the time you reach the master bedroom. Some nights he has more energy when he gets home. Sometimes he'd slam you up against the wall and fuck you hard in every hole, wild and savage as an animal, filling you with his thick creamy cum, so deliciously full...

Apparently not tonight, though. You can't blame him, you know. You can't blame Jackson Teller for any damn thing, to be honest. Of course not. Because he is your fucking king. Whatever he does, he's your master, your god; everything about his whole existence is flawless.

You watch in rapture as he strips naked, carelessly flinging his kutte and the rest of his clothes to the floor, and flops facedown in bed to lay his weary head to rest. Fit for the king he is, his bed is big and plush and luxurious. At this late hour, he's too tired to even bother with a shower, you notice. Fuck yes—that's how you like it best.

Hopefully he'll let you use your tongue to clean up all his glorious sweat. Then whenever he leaves next to take care of business, you'll still get to savor his scent in his absence, inhaling it off of the sheets and the mattress. Your thirsty mouth is watering just at the thought of it, as you scurry all over the bedroom to clean up his mess.

Gathering up all the clothes that he scattered, you can't help but take a deep breath. Inhaling the essence of this sinfully sexy bastard.

You indulge in a whiff, as you slobber and sniff—focusing on the pits of his shirt so damp and sweaty it's obscene, and the rich-smelling crotch of his jeans, soaking up all the musk of his cock and his balls and his ass which smells so good it hurts—and especially his underwear... before dutifully dropping them into the hamper, along with the socks that you brought from downstairs. Though you hate washing Jax's sweet scent off of anything, one of your chores, of course, is to take care of all the laundry for your master.

"Get over here, bitch. You should clean up after me faster," he scolds, dominant voice husky and low, somewhat muffled as his head is partially sunken into one of his deluxe pillows. "Did you just get distracted by sniffing my sweat? You're such a greedy, filthy fucking pet."

You instantly start whimpering in apology, overflowing with self-hatred as you hasten toward the foot of his bed. You would say sorry, in so many words, if you could, as you should.

But you can't, given that you're not human. And your master knows that of course. All you want is to worship his body, and show him you're sorry, but you need permission before you can move from your place on the floor...

"Crawl up onto the bed," he commands, well assured you will follow his orders as fast as you can. "Go ahead, you pathetic whore. Make yourself useful and worship my back. Can't you see I'm exhausted and need to relax?"

Oh, how you love when he lets out his inner beast and treats you to the absolute most savage side of Jax.

Though you also love when he is soft, when he treats you with sweet talk and cuddles you up... this is the side of him you adore even more. His abuse is just what you live for.

"I want a full body massage," he orders, as you set to work on his muscular shoulders. "Yeah, use those paws. And that dirty mouth of yours... so dirty... mmm, that's it, lick all the sweat off my body. Desperate fucking dog."

You don't need him to tell you—that is exactly what you're dying to do—but it's so much better when he does. So damn hot. It's insane just how much you get off on his dirty talk.

And he keeps going on as you worship his perfect physique. While your hands rub and knead every inch, your mouth traces a line down the smooth divine curve of his spine, running down the black ink of the reaper design, wet lips puckering into passionate kisses all over his dewy skin, slurping up each new bead of fresh sweat as it dribbles and leaks. Every so often, his degrading words and his delicious groans of pleasure cut to cruel sadistic laughter, whenever he wants to humiliate you for being such a freak.

That just makes you love him even more. You're his subhuman whore, reduced into a literal pig as the maddening scent and flavor of your master makes you fucking squirm, wriggling like a worm, every sound out of your throat a squeal or a squeak. His savage strength makes you so weak...

"Unghh God, you're such a fucking animal," he snarls as you salivate all over his sculpted muscles. "Get that worthless face lower down where you belong. Yeah, you know what you want. Suffocate in my asshole."

And that very instant, you do just as told. You wedge your whole damn head into the sacred space between his sweaty cheeks, diving in deep, digging for gold. It's salty and sweet and so so fucking hot. You don't even care whether you'll ever come up for air or not. He's everything you need and all you want to breathe. Your king Jax Teller is a motherfucking god...

When he growls and reaches back with both of his strong hands to push his palms against your skull and smash your face even deeper inside his crack, the pure aggression of the act gives you a goddamn heart attack.

Before you can even recover from that, he suddenly shifts—you gasp for a split second as his magnificent body lifts.

But the next thing you know, he is squatting low over your mouth, then sitting the fuck down till your tongue is lodged deep in his tight sweaty hole and his big heavy balls are completely smothering your snout.

Jax throws his head back with a guttural groan as he starts to grind, taking your mouth for a ride. You could die just from that fucking sound, from the taste, from the feel of his full body weight as he shudders and sighs, dominating your face. Degrading you just right. You could do this all night. Then he looks back down, bright blue gaze locking with your eyes, open wide, sex-crazed and lost in a mad loving daze.

Is this fucking real? Even as it happens, you honestly can't fathom how good it feels...

And there's no way that you wouldn't notice, in this position of pure bliss, your master's fucking enormous cock. While you drown in his ass, savoring your sweet feast, that massive piece of meat is throbbing right above you like a beast, hard as a rock.

"Fuuuck, that's it—eat my ass, you good-for-nothing pig..." Jax explosively grunts as his hot sphincter squeezes and strangles your tongue. "Look what you're doing to my dick. You're gonna make me fucking cum. That what you want?"

Ohhh Godddd...

He goes on before you can respond. "Well, that's just what you're gonna get. Ughh—such a good little pet..." he praises as he begins pumping himself, the pink tip of his dick giving off the rich scent of his juices, each sweet drop that glistens, all glossy and wet. Some of his precum drips to your forehead.

But that's not where his full load is going to land. No, that's all gonna go down your dirty whore throat. Jax then clutches the top of your head with one hand, fingers rooting hard into your scalp, making you gulp and gasp, as you suck on his ass, while his other fist jacks off his perfect dick, faster and harder with each fucking stroke. He's so hot it's a joke.

"Shit—gonna cum—take it, bitch... take it all till you choke..." he moans, pulling his ass swiftly off of your slobbering lips and then pressing the tip of his cock onto your twitching tongue. Blessing you with a huge load of sweet white hot cum. By this point you're struck dumb.

You can feel your eyes roll to the back of your skull, as you savor his flavor and swallow him whole. You are so goddamn grateful. Jackson Teller is feeding your body, your heart and your soul.

You're reminded right now of what you've always known: that you are his to own. He is more than human, so much more, all that you live for... and you are so much less and always have been. Falling in these roles just feels so fucking natural. He is a fucking god—everything you are not—and you're a fucking animal.

Once he is done using you as his subhuman cum dump, your master is gracious enough to let you clean him up. You wrap your lips around his flawless cock to lick and suck off every drop. Pressing French kisses all across his freshly drained balls and his perfect pink asshole. Hoping that your beloved master knows he's your entire world.

"Good girl," Jax sighs, as your face nestles in the space between his strong powerful thighs. "Bet you wish you could sleep with me here in this bed. But that would be wrong. Don't you know where you belong, you filthy little pet?"

Ah, yes—you could never forget. With a whimper of submissive bliss, you give your master one last kiss, right on the tip of his delicious dick. Admiring how even right after he came it’s still so stiff and throbbing and thick.

And then you climb off of his mattress and crawl into your tiny pet bed, set right by his nightstand. The spot where you're so blessed to sleep beside this divine god of a man. You curl yourself up nice and small, into a little ball, so you can fit. And all the while you're still squealing like a pig. You just can't help it.

The king of Charming huffs out one of his majestic snickers at the sound of you grunting and groveling, so low-down and pathetic. "Goodnight, pig."

Your heart flutters—so grateful and glad that he calls you that, just what you are to him, always will be... so fucking filthy... you know that he is pleased, and his pleasure is all that matters.

You already can't wait till the morning when he'll let you drink from his dick, hopefully. But till then you'll just sleep, knowing that all your dreams will be sweet, for you dream of one thing only: pleasing your master.

And you're living that dream, as unreal as it seems. Your real life is as good as it gets.

You'll go on forever loving every minute of living with Jax Teller—living for Jax Teller, now and forever—as his filthy fucking pet.

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… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

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revenant-dumpster-fire · 3 years

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Canine (Revenant x Reader)

Part 2 of 2 of the chapter “Styptic & Canine”. [AO3 Link to full chapter]

Theme: Revenant introduces the reader to his makeshift family as he turns up the spice level, but an unfortunate run in with a creep ruins most of the day.

Warnings: Graphic content, physical male dominance, threats of violence, blood, descriptions of violence, sexual references, sexual harassment, sharp objects, pain, bipolar, depression, mentions of mania, general romantic fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: This post was too big. 18K words. This is part 2 of a larger chapter that is “Styptic & Canine”. I’m posting it in halves so Tumblr doesn’t die. Also, yes, this chapter is where I start raising the heat. My intent was to boil the frog, but Tumblr made me split right where I first turn on the gas stove.

Navigation: First Chapter | Previous Part (Styptic & Canine) | Next Chapter

You regain consciousness to a mild shake, his hands around each of your cheeks and his frame vaulted over your body in a sitting position.

"Oh dear, little skinsuit, what was that about?" His voice drips with some kind of sadistic humor.

"What was what about?" The morning light was shining through the skylight. He obviously let you sleep in a bit, for which you were grateful. You couldn't remember any dreams though, it was all blank.

"Don't play stupid, you must know." He's way too into this. "I want to know if it was me."

"I really don't remember. Why, what did I do?"

He lurches back in some kind of cruel delight, pulling his hands away to cup around his own face, accentuating his joy.

"Then maybe you'll know the answer to this: who is 'daddy'?"

Your face gets hot instantly, now you know why he's so interested. He has prime material to hold over your head for days. You have one potential way out and he isn't likely to buy it.

"I never met my father, so I'm not sure..." You try.

"Oh, I guessed as much. But this wasn't that kind of daddy." He places each of his hands on the sides of your waist, making you blush harder. "Your hips were absolutely reeling. I could hear how much you were loving it. You still smell like lust. So, I must know... who is the lucky one to have the title of 'daddy'?" Your face is burning. Your attempt to get out of this has definitely and utterly failed.

"I don't know! I've never even--" You cut yourself off, realizing that saying more is only playing into his game.

"Oh please, you must tell me." He leans over to whisper in your ear, curling over you in a seductive manner. "I'll keep it a secret, I promise. I just want to know who makes you writhe like that. Clearly I could learn something." This asshole. Your face actually hurts it's so hot. You can't get out of this, and you don't even have an answer for him. You've never even called anyone that before.

"Please, can I get up?" You beg, hoping it can just be over.

"Oh no, dear," You feel yourself screaming internally as he nuzzles his mask against the side of your face, "I can't let you do that. No, no... Not until you humor me." He presses his body into you, and you audibly whimper. "Call me daddy."

You're dead. You have to be dead. This can't be real. You can't humor him, but you have to humor him. Why is he like this? If you say it really fast, maybe it'll be okay. Maybe he'll accept it.

"Can I get up...?" You choke. "...daddy..." You didn't say it fast, but you said it with zero confidence, which hopefully dampens his power trip.

He throws himself off of you, laughing something fierce. His guffaw is loud, cruel, and pure delight. He's completely overtaken by it, laying back beside you, almost twitching in hilarity. He can't control himself as he lifts his hand as if to wipe away a tear.

He shuts down again, turning limp.

You jump out of bed, giving yourself distance from his metal sarcophagus, knowing whatever comes next might not be pleasant. You make your way to the computer desk, sitting on the office chair, waiting to see what he does this time.

His chassis begins to whirr and cracks into movement, his arms grabbing at air beside him as he tests every limb in violent bends and swings. The static begins in his voice, before suddenly slipping into something audible.

"You-you moved away." His empty optics seem to stare at you from a distance as he sits up. "I wanted to hold-hold you again..." His tone was soft, but his vocals were still skipping. "Shame, daddy will get you next-next time."

His eyes come back to life, and he's aware again.

"Well, just say how you really feel then, huh?" You jab back, waiting to see how he reacts. He chuckles a little, a mere echo of the laugh that forced him to restart.

"Well, I'll make it up to you. How do you feel about making a trip to meet my little family?"

"Family? I thought--"

"Oh, not like that, of course. Just the closest thing I have." He smiles smugly at you, seeing an opportunity. "You don't need to worry, no one competes with you."

Damn blush, you're going to turn red permanently if he doesn't stop.

He vaults out of bed, making his way over to you.

"I let you sleep in, thankfully what you're wearing is ideal for the job already." He offers his hand. When you take it, he hoists you to your feet. "It should help with any sad feelings too, how are those going by the way?"

"With how things have been going, I haven't had the chance to be depressed..." You're almost embarrassed that his plan to keep throwing you off your depression is working so well.

"Good, keep showering me with all your attention then." He squeezes your hand a bit before letting go. At this rate he could make you manic again if he keeps pushing it. You're just not sure if you should let him. "I've arranged a ride for us, since I don't think you can run this far."

"Oh, alright, sure. Do I need to do anything? I feel kinda like I should take a shower..." It's very strange that you're going someplace wearing dirty clothes with no shower.

"Trust me, you'd be better off doing that after."

• • • •

Revenant can't drive, apparently. To the point in which he's actually enough of a liability that he's not allowed to drive anywhere outside of the Apex Games. He wasn't very happy with the idea of having a chauffeur, but the legal team was able to convince him to accept being driven in exchange for a vehicle that separated him from the driver. That vehicle was a limo. A giant, stretch limo. A very luxurious limo. Versus you, who is a mess: dressed in a stained shirt you slept in and you haven't washed your hair. This is embarrassing.

"This dumb thing is almost ten yards long, and you have to be right up against me, don't you?" Revenant is sitting far in the back corner, and you've wedged yourself right between him and the corner, trying your best to hide yourself from any phantom that might see you.

"I'm in a limo and I look like I belong in a garbage truck." You duck away from the windows, shoving your face up against the black leather of his waist, careful to avoid the support pistons.

"Literally no one can see you except me." He scoffs, crossing his arms. "The windows are blacked out, the driver's privacy window is closed, and nobody is here but us." His eyes glare down at you, but he seems to be moderately entertained by your distress.

"I look homeless." You pause. "Again."

Revenant laughs at that, uncurling his arms to mess up your hair in some kind of adoring but condescending gesture.

"You're fine, trust me. Nobody is going to see you." He pauses from messing with your hair. "I have a stop coming up, just stay in here and I'll be back with some supplies."

"Be fast, I need to hide behind someone and you're the only one here." You're being intentionally dramatic, but if it makes him laugh it's worth it. He sighs equally as dramatically, clearly playing along.

The vehicle hovers to a stop, and Revenant wisps out the door, closing it behind him before you even get a sense for where you are. The windows really are blacked out, you can't see anything through them.

Now alone, you shrink into the back corner of the seats going around the vehicle. There's a television and what appears to be a loaded bar, multicolored LED lights lining the whole thing, and starlights in the ceiling. The seats are all made with beautiful leather and have a triangular pattern stitched in the surface. The floor has carpeted mats that feel a bit more plush than the average car. You consider rummaging through the bar, but you're not sure if anyone is going to charge you an arm and a leg for alcohol you can get cheaper anywhere else. You sigh and lean back, shrinking further in the seat.

The door on the opposite corner as you clicks open, and Revenant crawls in, dragging a massive green bag behind him, barely managing to get it in the car.

"Is that a body bag?!" You curl up in the fetal position on your seat, recoiling away from the door.

"Yes." He gruffly huffs as he drags the apparent bagged corpse into the limo, weighing the whole vehicle down. He gets it in the middle of the floor, then drops it with a thud and throws himself down beside you. With his weight, you feel like you nearly missed being crushed. His arm rests on your opposite shoulder and you shudder, giving him a concerned stare. "Oh shush, I paid for it."

"You what?" You whimper, completely at a loss of what you're experiencing.

"It'll be fine, I can't rightly show up without any offering." He shrugs his shoulders, pulling you closer. He seems to be very pleased with himself, smugly teasing you.

"Offering?! Is this a cult?!" You whisper aloud, not necessarily expecting an answer. He laughs again, enjoying your mental wheels spinning. The limo gets moving again, handling the extra weight very easily.

"Oh, no, that's for next time." He's obviously teasing now. "I'll make sure you're in a lovely white dress to soak in the blood of our sacrifices for that occasion." He shoves you up against his chassis, growling to rattle his torso against you. "Then, when we're all done, I'll make official my new nickname."

"Oh, fuck you." You let slip under your breath, causing him to guffaw openly again. He catches his synthetic breath, rubbing his mask in the same motion a human would.

"You've gotten so comfortable with me so quickly, what happened?" His question must be rhetorical, because he doesn't leave much of a pause for an answer. He jumps right back into teasing. "I'll have to tame you by any means necessary if you're going to keep being so temptingly coy." His hands cup around your waist and you crack a sigh, turning away from him, trying to focus on anything other than how red in the face you must be.

"Do you regularly flirt in front of fresh corpses?"

"Awww..." He grabs your chin and pulls your face back to meet his, bringing his visage down close enough to feel his breath. "Are you kink-shaming me? Or are you just being a prude little tease?" He pauses before snickering to himself, losing his flirtatious composure. "You're so red, you practically match me." His loss of composure is cute enough to get to you. You giggle a little.

The car comes to a gentle stop, and Revenant immediately gets to pulling the corpse out. The body bag is way larger than makes sense, it almost looks as if it could fit someone Revenant's size. Yet the body inside still seems way too big. You're not sure what it is, but you're a bit too afraid to ask at the same time. Revenant eventually gets the bag to the edge of the vehicle before throwing it over one of his shoulders, forcing his shoulder spikes to flip downward out of the way. He nearly topples over at the shifting weight, meaning whatever is in the bag is excessively heavy.

As you crawl out of the car after him, you smell the fresh air of being nowhere near civilization. You see lots of flat lands broken up by woods with a giant abandoned warehouse in front of you. The warehouse has holes rusted throughout its sides and the door is ajar, the hinges rusted so it no longer swings. The air is fresh, and you look around, unable to find signs of other humans close by. Revenant waves away the limo. It turns around, kicking up dust off the unpaved path before zooming off into the horizon. He waits until the limo is far enough before pulling you close.

"You have to listen to everything I say, understand?" He's dead serious. You nod, suddenly concerned over his change in tone. "Don't try to protect me, I'll be okay. Scream if and only if you feel pain." You search for any joking tone in his voice, but there is none. "But above all else, listen to me. Don't play stupid, just obey." He looks to you, demanding acknowledgement. You nod, determined and concerned at this new development.

He walks over to the door, making his way inside carefully as you follow. He throws the body bag on the concrete floor of the entryway, causing a morbid slapping sound as it hits the ground. Revenant kneels down and begins ripping the bag open. You take a moment to look around.

This whole warehouse is dark beyond belief. There seems to be different rooms, but the rusted-through holes in the wall allow you to get negligible peeks into nearby rooms. The roof has not decayed at all yet, but it means no light is entering the building, making the deeper rooms be cast in an oppressive darkness. From the outside this warehouse looked massive, this room must be only one of dozens. The silence is scary, there isn't a single sound of life apart from you and Revenant, but you know better. Silence means something doesn't want to be found, and is inevitably a sign of life. Silence only happens when a hunter has scared everything else into silence. You might have learned that from Bloodhound, but you can't be sure. Either way, it's anxiety-inducing.

Revenant stands tall, pulling the scraps of the bag away from a giant bisection of a carcass. It appears to be beef, in the same state butchers will sell to grocers or restaurants. It doesn't smell bad, but it definitely smells like raw meat. Revenant grabs you around the shoulder, pulling you into a very controlling embrace. He whistles, or something like it.

"C'mere puppies!" As soon as he says it, you hear the sound of many nails skittering around the concrete flooring, making their way to the room you're in. Revenant squeezes you close as the pack comes into sight.

"Revenant! Those are not dogs!" You can't help but whisper in shock as the pack stops in your line of sight, trying to get a read on whether you're a threat or not.

Prowlers are utterly terrifying predators. They can be described as something between a wild dog and a tiger with the hide of a dinosaur. Their quadrupedal forms stand tall enough to meet you eye-to-eye at the largest, but the females and younger prowlers come up to your waist or knees instead. This subspecies has a beautiful, peacock-like furl behind their ears that stand on end when they see you, making them look as kaleidoscopic as they are scary. Their fangs could make a saber tooth tiger swoon, and their colors remind you of the legendary Birds of Paradise. Their long tails flick back and forth in concern, trying to understand who you are or if they should fight you. The largest male growls so deeply that Revenant sounds like a kitten in comparison, and it approaches both of you ahead of the rest of the pack.

"Rev..." You start to step behind him. This creature could very easily kill you in a single bite to the neck, and he was already tall enough to reach it.

"Shush, listen to me." He whispers to you, using his grip around your back to shuffle you back in place and to his side, pulling you against him in an uncomfortable grip. "Hey Six, this is mine." He addresses the massive male prowler approaching you, almost presenting you to him.

You hold your breath as Six sniffs your face, neck, and chest, trying to figure out what you are and why you're here. The other prowlers begin to enter the room, not even paying attention to the food in preference of figuring out the newcomer. Six's tail begins to rise up, flicking the tip back and forth as he finds you acceptable as a guest. You receive a lick right on the face as a final assurance, and the other prowlers swarm you to meet you.

You grab onto Revenant like your life depends on it. All of these prowlers could kill you, probably even the young ones too. It doesn't matter if they're all flicking their tails happily, or panting with smiles and tongues out, or excitedly greeting you. They can kill you and you're painfully aware of it.

"Calm down, seriously. You were fine meeting me for the first time, but a bunch of little puppies scare you?" Revenant releases his hold on you, but you don't return the favor.

"These are not puppies!" You try to whisper at him, but he might not be able to hear you over the crowd you've attracted. He pushes down on your shoulders, causing you to lose your grip on him and fall into a sitting position. Now all the prowlers can meet you eye-to-eye or tower over you. You're inundated with licks, and no amount of guarding your face with your arms will save you.

"You'll be fine. They're my pack, and they'll respect what's mine." You can barely hear him over the assault of affection.

As the excitement begins to settle, some of the larger prowlers peter off to check out the meat, leaving the younger ones to look after you. A tiny pair of kits you didn't see before bound up to your lap and hop in, cuddling against your stomach. For such scary adults, the babies are unbearably cute. You're not sure if you can touch them or not, so you simply let them roll around in your lap, slapping at each other like the siblings they are. Six comes back to you, his maw covered in blood from the beef.

"I figured he'd notice." You hear Revenant mutter as Six inspects your arm and calf, licking at the puncture wounds a little. "I guess my hypocrisy was going to catch up eventually." Six carefully sniffs the skin before shooting a glare and deep growl at Revenant. "Don't move a muscle, no matter what." He instructs you.

Six lunges at Revenant's leg, catching the metal below the knee joint in his bite. Revenant buckles and hits the ground. You jump a little and whine to yourself, but you stay as reserved as you can otherwise. The kits notice and begin pawing at you, trying to understand your reaction. Six drags Revenant a few feet from you as Revenant makes stifled sounds reminiscent of excruciating pain. You want to step in, but you obey orders. You hear the moaning of the metal in his leg beginning to bend for a few moments, before Six releases him. Revenant sits up, grappling his leg before Six chomps the opposite arm near the shoulder, causing Revenant to try to reel away in shock and pain. Again, Six growls as the metal bends beneath his bite, Revenant taking the pain as best as he can. Six releases, gives a growling bark to Revenant, and returns to you to lick your wounds more.

"Oh, now aren't you just poetic." Revenant finally makes out between what sounds like heavy breaths. "You got me in the same places." He's cradling his calf and arm, in the exact same places and sides as you were hurt. "I knew I was going to pay for that, but you didn't have to be that literary about it."

Six turns to him and makes whining sounds that mimic human speech. You've heard of Siberian Huskies making these noises, but never prowlers. Either way, it sounds sassy, and Revenant seems to relax knowing he's back in good graces.

"Yes, I know I taught you the same lesson a long time ago, but still..." He talks to them like anyone would talk to their dog. "You didn't have to be that extra about it." Six flicks his head at him before returning to your wounds, the kits now back to play-fighting each other.

"So, yeah, these are my puppies." He finally addresses you again. Most of the other prowlers are now taking turns at the carcass, seemingly following a hierarchy. You want to correct him, but you don't. He's clearly going to keep insisting that they're puppies. "This is Six, he's the sixth alpha of a pack I've helped raise over the past few decades. Zero was the first prowler that accepted me, and One was his puppy--the first alpha."

Six retires from your wounds, taking the two kits from you to go eat with their mother.

"There's no way you can be depressed around these guys. If there's any creature more aware of the emotional state of other beings, I dare them to come forward. My pack is perfect." He genuinely sounds overjoyed that you're getting to meet them all, he seems very proud. "I even raised them to respect females... Even if that did bite me back today." He huffs a bit.

"So, wait, you've been raising prowlers out here for decades?" You finally make a sound, Six and a few others look over at you for a moment, surprised by your more relaxed voice.

"Yeah, although they're fairly independent. I'm more like an elder to them, rather than directly in their hierarchy. I bring them food, not that they need me to, and they come along with me when I need company or extra help." He scoots himself close to you, letting his damaged leg drag. You get a closer look and see that the metal is both punctured and buckled on both his arm and leg. "They've been a passion project of mine ever since I first met Zero. They make me feel a bit of humanity." That last sentence is spoken with a level of reverence. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"You know, this is probably a scientific breakthrough in some field that nobody has ever managed before. You have a wild pack of prowlers that accept you and the people you bring in." He seems surprised by your lavish praise. "This could change our understanding of prowlers forever."

"Well, it helps that I'm nigh unkillable," he knocks on his metal chest, making a banging sound, "and honestly you're allowed in because as far as they're concerned, you're my mate." He wraps his arm around you possessively as the kits crawl back into your lap, now well-fed and cuddly. "That's why they don't mind you around the little ones." He sees you eyeing them as they roll around, trying to get comfortable. He picks one up, holding it in his hands like it's a precious jewel. It yips at him for attention, so he scratches behind it's tiny furls with his spare hand. "I think this one will be Seven, unless the next litter has an even bigger boy."

His adoration for these predators is absolutely identical to how so many people feel about their pets. The choice to love prowlers is a bit unconventional, but he is very much a man stuck in a metal body--humanity intact--in these moments. You are growing increasingly fond of him, seeing something beautiful beyond the cruel simulacrum assassin you once knew. He catches you staring.

"Go ahead, pick her up." He gestures to the other kit in your lap, actually looking a little jealous of her brother. At first, you tremor at the thought of picking her up wrong, but a sudden wave of confidence comes from nowhere. You scoop her up in your arms, bringing her up to your chest and cradling her. She immediately begins to squirm with delight and lick at your hand as you rub her head and chin.

"Was that all instinct?" He pauses, and you tilt your head at him, confused by the question. "You were shaking, then suddenly you weren't. Is that what maternal instinct looks like?" You're a bit shocked he saw that much.

"I'm not sure. I'm not usually around babies of any kind." You confess, but now you suspect the same thing he does. The baby female prowler reaches for your face, barely managing to touch your chin before you lower your face to meet her. She reacts with tiny licks on your nose while you tickle her belly. Revenant is the one staring now.

Revenant places the baby male in your arms next to the female, allowing them to both vie for your coveted attention. Some of the females come over and snuggle up next to you, laying on and around you, while the males and Six lie next to Revenant. Revenant leans back, eventually resting his head on the flank of one of the larger males, while another rests its head on his shoulder.

"You should lie down, let the puppies run around." He instructs you, briefly pointing to the kits in your arms. "Your body isn't heavy enough to bother anyone, just lay on whoever seems the most comfortable."

You look around, seeing a lot of intimidating warm bodies around you, so you cheat and carefully lay under Revenant's arm. You hear him audibly sigh, bothered that you're still worried but unable to chide you. The kits use you to crawl up on Revenant and slide down his metal torso to the other side, Six audibly purring when they land in his vicinity. Maybe a prowler would make a better pillow than a newly busted up metal arm and the concrete floor. You shiver a bit at the sheer power of these creatures, running your fingers over the metal holes in Revenant's arm, causing him to wince away from your touch.

"Does it hurt?" You whisper, hoping not to draw any prowler's attention.

"Yeah, it hurts a lot. My body can feel pain just like you skinsuits." He inhales in distress as you pull your fingers away from the damage. "It honestly feels like the flesh and muscle is torn off, like the bone is crushed and splintered, and like I'm bleeding out on the ground. But I know it's not real. It's never real."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know this would happen." You pull yourself into more of a ball, shuddering at the thought of that level of pain.

"It's not your fault, I instilled this level of protectiveness into them." Revenant pulls his arm away as one of the female prowlers crawls over you and lays on top of you, purring as if to comfort you. "Anyone who hurts one of the girls gets it back sevenfold." You roll onto your back, the prowler readjusting to lay on your belly, purring and licking your neck. "So you can stop being sad about it. They can sense it in you. If you don't want the attention, you can't let yourself be distressed." He sits up, looking down at you smugly while a second prowler writhes across the ground to get close enough to lick your cheek. Are these creatures really this intuitive?

Six notices Revenant sitting up to watch you and meanders over to see the small commotion. Six shoves himself between you and Revenant, apparently sensing some kind of disagreement. Six positions his paws on your neck, allowing you to feel the enormous size of his claws. One flex and you're dead. These things must be three inches of blade, all with a hypodermic tip. Six turns his head to Revenant and makes a sound somewhere between a huff and a growl before shoving his snout against your ear to purr. He bares his fangs while doing so, allowing you to feel how long and menacing they are. You wince away from him, pushing your face into the other prowler's licks, but Six just shoves his snout further to reconnect with you.

"He seems to think I should be more comforting, you're way too nervous for his liking. Good luck being depressed now." He sounds like he's enjoying this, shrugging to himself before he places his hand on your free arm. "Just calm down, they're not going to hurt you."

"I could die from a single flick of the wrist." You carefully say, feeling your vocal chords vibrate against Six's massive nails.

"That doesn't stop you from getting close to me." His hand glides up and down your arm. You don't have a response for him, so you stay quiet. "Like I said, just scream at any discomfort and someone is getting a swift dose of justice." He lies back on the same prowler as before, changing his position to avoid disrupting Six.

"I can't scream if my throat is slit."

"Give it time, you'll understand."

• • • •

Three prowlers is apparently the amount it takes to bring back a stick. It can be more if the stick is longer, but this giant branch is the maximum size you can throw. They hop together, all their jaws in a line across the branch, their fangs clutched around the wood. They carefully drop it at your feet, waiting expectantly for you to try throwing it again. You do your best to throw it, but between your injured arm and the weight of it, you struggle to get it as far as you'd like. The area behind the warehouse is a small yard with enough room for fetch, surrounded by thick forests over a few small hills.

"You throw like a child." You hear Revenant mock you, and you turn around to shoot him a glare. Six is resting in his lap and he has the mother prowler at his side, accepting the belly rubs he offers while the kits sleep. "I can throw farther than you from here, without even standing." You roll your eyes, knowing he's probably right.

Two new prowlers got in on the stick this throw, bounding back to you for another throw. You have eight prowlers all fighting to be one of the three on the stick, but they all seem to be having fun. Four of the young adults are off in the woods playing tug of war by themselves, making a total of sixteen prowlers you've now met. This pack is unusually huge from what little you know. You wonder if Revenant's meddling has something to do with it.

You pick up the branch and drag it over to Revenant, curious to see if he'll back up his claim.

"Alright, go for it." You hand him the end of the branch, and he chucks it far enough to lob over the entire yard and land somewhere in the woods. He snickers as the pack disappears in the darkness after it. You watch, hearing the branch collide with the trees, making rustling and snapping sounds as it catches in them. "So, what if you just got it stuck in a tree?"

"Oh, I thought you wanted me to show off for you." Revenant coos sarcastically. "Give them a few minutes, they can climb." You sigh and shrug, waiting for any sign of them coming back. "Do you want to go home?"

"No, not yet."

"Oh, oh!? You aren't scared of my puppies anymore?" He says between chuckles.

"Shut it." You growl at him, finally getting to use his catch-phrase against him.

"Are you sure? It's getting late." It was beginning to be late in the afternoon, coming up on when you'd normally be wanting dinner. In truth you hadn't eaten in over a day, but depression made it so you never wanted to eat anyway. You'd been playing with his prowlers for hours now, fully accepted by them. You now felt pretty confident in your safety around them, but their stature was still a bit menacing.

"At least let me see if they can bring back that stick." You hear some rustling in the woods, before the eight prowlers burst out of the brush with the original branch and a second, equally massive one. Now only two are left out of being able to hold a part of a stick. They drop both at your feet.

You try to throw the first but it only makes it a short ways, all the prowlers fighting for it. You hand the second to Revenant, and he throws it back into the woods completely out of sight. They all abandon the first stick in preference for the farthest one.

"Maybe you should be doing this." You hunch over, a bit defeated and tired.

"You're doing fine. Anyways, we should wrap up soon. You probably need that shower and I have something I need to do before tomorrow." Revenant starts to get up, prompting Six to get off of him while huffing and shaking himself awake. "Also, you need food."

You sigh, wanting to argue but knowing you can't.

"I'm calling back your ride. We need to get all these guys hidden in the warehouse as to not cause any alarm." He pulls some kind of cellular device out of his pocket on his belt and presses a few buttons. He then proceeds to shuffle you back towards the warehouse, prompting Six, the mother, and the two kits to follow. As you get to the side entrance, Revenant turns around and emits another whistling sound, inundated with his usual modulated twinge. He steps inside with you and the other twelve prowlers come flooding in behind him.

He pets each of them as they make their way in, saving Six and the kits for last. He really does love these creatures. You sheepishly and carefully pet Six as you go to leave, but only because he demands it by butting his head into your hand to make it clear.

Finally, you step outside with Revenant, going towards the dirt road that got you here.

"You look like absolute hell." Revenant jabs. You pull your hair back and try to control it a bit better, but it refuses to cooperate. It's probably stuck from all the prowler saliva all over you, hair absolutely included. Not to even mention your shirt and pants look like you got tackled and ground into the dirt by an entire rugby team. Your shirt was already stained, now it's dusty, dirty, stained, and has green grass streaks. Your shoes are probably just as bad, but they're cheap sneakers so you don't really care much.

"I know, I really need a shower. Maybe two." You give up on your hair. It's just going to be a mess.

"Take as long as you need. I'll be back soon after you. I hope you don't mind riding back alone." You've made it to the dirt road, and you can see the excessively luxurious limo in the distance, kicking up dirt.

"You're not coming?"

"No, I have one last thing to do before the match tomorrow. It'll be worth it, and I think you'll like it too." Revenant seems like he won't budge on the matter.

The limo pulls up and he opens the door for you, and you crawl in alone, making sure you stay as far in the corner as possible. You don't really like the thought of being in here alone, but you have no choice in the matter. He shuts the door and you lose sight of him through the blacked-out windows. The limo starts to move, making a sharp turn and hitting high speeds over the terrain, probably kicking up tons of dust in the meantime. You have nothing to stare at, so you just curl up to yourself and wait to make it back.

"You seem a bit meek for this kind of work, kid." You hear a masculine voice with a skeezy city accent coming from the front of the limo. The privacy window is cracked, just enough so you can hear him, but thankfully not enough so you can see each other. Why was that rolled down at all? It wasn't on the way here. You turn away, refusing to answer, hoping he will leave you be.

"Heh, exactly." You hear him chuckle. You wish you had the guts to just waltz over and roll up the window on him, but you're neither that confident nor strong enough if it ends in a spat. You just let him continue. "Heck, I didn't think robots were even into that stuff, but he seems to be the 'specially fucked-up type." Your stomach sinks like an anchor as you hear what sounds like the draw of a cigarette. "Fucker practically gets off every time he guts someone on live TV. Makes perfect sense he'd get off 'tuh victimizin' some tiny doll like you."

You get the picture, and you feel sick to your stomach for it. You can't respond, every word you want to say gets caught in your throat and you're forced to swallow it. This guy might be unhinged; a lot of people are these days. If you try to argue, he might try something. If you try to play it off... who are you kidding? You could never play this one off. It sounds so bad. Is he going to try to hurt you? Or is this all some mind game?

"Does it hurt? You sure as hell look like you've been through a meat grinder." You feel your face turn red. You turn further away from the cracked window. "Oh, I bet it does. No way 'woulda giant metal psycho like that hold back on a little thing like you."

He won't stop. He's clearly only getting started, but you hope that this is the worst of it.

"Question is: are you a hostage or does he really pay you that well? You know, sweetheart, if you're in need of money, just record whatever the hell he does to 'ya and sell it on the internet." He starts laughing as you internally beg for him to shut up. "All sorts of fucked up dudes would pay for the privilege. You could make absolute bank! Even better if you let him cut you open a bit for the cameras while you scream." He's really laughing now, clearly getting off to how much he has you cornered.

"Everyone loves a good screamin' bitch. Anyone who says they don't is a liar. But you know that, don't 'ya toots?" His use of centuries-old misogynistic slang somehow makes everything worse. You feel yourself shake a bit as you hold yourself tighter. Your stomach hurts badly from the distress now, and you feel yourself spiral internally. Where is this going? Can you outrun this guy if you need to? What if he catches you? Can you squirm out of this guy's grasp? "God, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall while that's going on. I bet your tears only make him harder."

You want to scream, but your prey instincts refuse to let you move or make a sound in hopes that he simply forgets you're there. You can't help yourself but hold your breath in intervals, hoping to be even more silent, but in turn making you more light-headed and fearful.

"I bet there's lots of filthy bastards that would pay extra to have his sloppy seconds." You're absolutely nauseated at the thought of that, but you haven't eaten, so maybe it's just a stomach ulcer forming from the extreme stress. "I bet he's modded to absolutely ruin you, isn't he? Tear your insides up and fill you until you're overflowin', right? You look like he never gives you a day off." You pray, begging God to kill you--this is worse than death.

"So, if he's draggin' 'ya all the way out into the woods to fuck 'ya, it must be pretty messed up stuff, huh?" You lay your face in your hands. "Aww, don't cry babe, I'm not going to tell anyone. I wouldn't want a hole in my chest, anyhow." You want to disappear. You hope he crashes the car and you die in a fire. You hate everything about this. "If you're ever in need of an extra kick of cash though, I wouldn't mind a taste of 'ya. Or buyin' one of those tapes."

You break internally. It feels like the essence of every muscle snaps in your body, and the tears flow without even intending to. You suddenly have the courage to move, but only to move a few inches to cower deeper in the corner of the seats.

It's not worth it. None of this is worth it. You no longer hear anything he says, even though you can still hear his voice. It sounds like you're underwater, so you can't make out the words anymore. Maybe that's a good thing. Unfortunately, you can still make out your own thoughts, and they're all cruel. It's all cruel. Everything about this situation is cruel.

You focus on the tears hitting your hands. They're cold, and they quickly flow out of your palms and down your arms before dripping off your elbows. They leave a trail of salts down your arm so thin you can barely notice it. You don't even feel compelled to make a sound as you cry; it's not that type of sorrow. It's pure humiliation, and your lungs work calmly as your eyes drown instead.

You wish you could just be swallowed by the swell of your own pain. Death is something you think about often as a potential solution to every problem, but right now it feels like a drug you're in active withdrawal from. Like you need it, right here, right now. You want to imagine the limo crashing into an embankment wall, submerging into an ocean, or being hit by a train. You don't care if the creep dies or not, all you know is you want out. The world feels cold enough to sap every degree of heat from you, and you feel as if you're freezing both literally and figuratively.

You fester in the feelings. The only saving grace in this situation is that you're too unimportant to matter to anyone as anything other than an easy squeeze. Nobody will miss you if you die. No one will look for you if you disappear. No family will mourn you. You secretly hope this pervert doesn't know that too, otherwise you might not make it out of this unscathed. You hope he believes Revenant will run him through if he tries to abduct you. You'd rather not die like that, something faster and more violent would be preferred.

Would Revenant kill you? In any circumstance at all? He could make it quick and violent, but he might not want to at this point. He seems to like you more by the day, but now that scares you. Is he human enough to feel strongly about you? Or does he tend to fall back on his programming? Maybe he would like gutting you--then at least someone could enjoy your death. You think about it, but you cannot imagine it without there being some kind of regret thrown in on your or his end. You can only imagine goading him into it by aggressively attacking his emotional stability, which is something you'd regret. Otherwise, you cannot imagine him killing you for no reason and being regret-free afterwards. You don't want him to feel regret. You just want to be free without hurting anyone, but maybe that's unrealistic.

The vehicle comes to a gentle stop. Your brain kicks into survival mode and you immediately rush for the door, not giving the driver any chance to get out of his seat, let alone open the door for you. He is still talking but you don't care; he's only laughing at you anyway. You get the door open and thankfully you're not at some back alley motel, but the main Apex Games facility. It's the back entrance, but you'll take it. It might be a blessing anyway, since it's so close to Revenant's new room that you'll likely avoid all human contact. You get up to the door and fumble in your pocket for your ID card, finally getting it out. You hear the driver say some more heinous things, but you refuse to turn around to see his face. The card is accepted and you rush in.

• • • •

The water is as hot as you can tolerate. It burns your skin and is downright uncomfortable to wash yourself in. Even as you curl up on the shower floor, crying and tolerating the hottest water you can handle, nothing can truly wash off the overwhelming feeling of being violated. Nothing can wash off the depression, the feelings of insignificance, the intrusive suicidal ideations, or the fear of meaning nothing in the grand scheme of things while simultaneously meaning just enough to force you into living.

The floor of the shower is warm, but it's still uncomfortable to lay on. The water spray hitting your skin is the only comfort you feel, but it isn't enough to quell you. The soap slowly rinses off your body, and the lathered up shampoo slowly flows out of your hair and down the drain. You'll eventually rinse completely like this, but it will be a while longer. How long has it already been? You took a long time sitting on the shower floor to even find the energy to get the soap lathered on you, and even that process was slow. Now you've been back on the floor and letting the soap slowly come off as you sob. Revenant might be back by now, but you're not sure what his errand was exactly. Maybe it will take all night. Does it matter? Do you matter? The thoughts won't stop.

You just cry. You cry until it feels like your soul starts to leave your body. Maybe it does. Between the heat, the steam, and the exhaustion, you pass out.

• • • •

"Skinsuit!" You feel yourself being gently jostled, still on the shower floor. The water is off, but the steam is so thick you question how long it's been. Your skin is beginning to get wrinkled from all the water absorption, so it's been a while. You're facing away from him, and you don't have the energy to turn to him. You don't even have the energy to speak. You just play the corpse, hoping that faking it will cause you to make it.

Revenant withdraws, and you hear rapid shuffling behind you. It sounds like he grabs the towel you had hung for yourself, running in and out of the bathroom to grab other things. You care about how he feels--he sounds distressed--but not for yourself. Why does he care at all, though? How does he feel about all this, anyway?

"Come here, little skinsuit. Everything is fine." You feel his arms scoop under you, and your natural instinct is to resist the hard synthetics against your bare skin. You wince a little, but mostly keep your corpse-like state: eyes closed and body limp. He carries you out of the bathroom where the air is freezing, but also not inundated with enough water vapor to nearly asphyxiate you. Weirdly enough, his chest isn't cold, but actually has something like fur? You don't open your eyes, you're probably just imagining it.

He places you down on a towel on the bed, immediately throwing another equally large towel over you. You're still cold, but it's way more tolerable with something over you. You hear Revenant mumbling in some kind of panic to himself, but you still can't find the energy to console him. You hear some typing on his computer, then the chair gets shoved out from under him as he stands in a huff. You hear your duffle bag unzip and likely some of your clothes be tossed on the bed near your head.

"You better not be mad at me for this..." He sounds unsure of that himself before you feel his hands start to dry you off through the towel. It would be nice if it didn't feel so wrong. Even if it is through a towel, you're naked otherwise. The thought of what the driver said hits you, and you immediately begin to feel anxiety and shake against your will. He reacts by scooping you up and hugging you, still wrapped in a towel, trying to stop the shaking.

"Dammit, what's going on?" You hear him whisper, he doesn't seem to realize you're awake and aware.

More fur. Why is there fur? Also, why does it feel like there's something resting on your head? It's way too large to be his chin. His chest feels smaller too, and it feels like some type of plastic rather than metal. The more you feel the more questions you have, and the more you panic at the realization that you do not know this simulacrum. You reach your limit and perk up in his arms, opening your eyes, and silently gasping as you reel back from whoever the heck this is.

"Wait! Skinsuit! It's me!" He manages to hold your arms before you can fully pull away, and you meet eyesight with a chassis you do not recognize. He has a huge, artificial bovine skull with curling ram horns situated on top. Instead of his scarf, his new face is framed in a mane of deep bark-colored fur, matted into locks like a proper wild animal. The optics tucked inside his skull seem so much larger than his normal ones, and they're a brilliant blueish-white, unlike his normal yellow ones. His snout is long enough to have been what was sitting on your head. His body looks to be made much thinner, especially in the chest, and is clearly made with more plastics than metals. It looks significantly lighter. His arms are red with odd, jagged juts on them, but seem to have similar hand mechanics otherwise. His loincloth is replaced with another long patch of fur, as well as fur on his thigh plates. His legs look a lot more decorative, and his feet are scarier: detailed down to each individual talon. His feet actually look much more like the hands on his other chassis.

"Skinsuit?" You snap out of your trance at his voice. You must have been staring him up and down for a while. "Uh, here." He pulls the towels back over you, which had fallen off when you pulled away. He reaches out to touch you, but stops short in case you aren't all there yet. "It's me, I'm just in a special body for tomorrow. I didn't mean to scare you." He's speaking slowly and methodically; his fingers make contact with your hand, but don't go further. "You must have fainted in the shower. You haven't been eating enough, but don't worry, everything's okay now."

Your head starts to throb and you instinctively go to hold it, the stress of the situation is too much. Even though he's trying to be reassuring, he looks like some kind of robotic, big-horned, undead goat demon and honestly you just wanted to see a familiar face to go with the familiar voice. You're not scared now that you know it's him, but something still doesn't feel right about it. Since you don't know this new chassis, you find it hard to trust his comfort. It's weird. Any other time you'd be overjoyed to see him in something that looks so cool, but now you're looking for some semblance of normalcy.

"How do you feel?" His right hand moves again to rest on your knee, intentionally avoiding pushing any boundaries. You can't answer, you still can't speak. It gets caught in your throat despite your best intentions, and instead your words turn into a new burst of tears and sobs. Without thinking, you take his hand off your knee and pull it to your face, sobbing into it. He seems relieved at your acceptance, and tries his best to catch and wipe away the tears as they flow. He shuffles as if to hug you, but he stops, likely unsure of how you feel when you're essentially in nothing but two loosely wrapped towels.

"I'm sorry, I thought seeing my pack would help, but I should have realized you haven't been eating enough. It's not something I've had to pay attention to in centuries." Your heart hurts as he seems to take the blame himself. "I also didn't mean to scare you again... I promise I'm not planning on hurting you." You want to speak so badly, but you just cry harder instead. None of this is his fault. Literally none of it. The only reason you're so jumpy is because everything that pervert said has sent you into a spiral. You imagined Revenant hurting you for his own entertainment and pleasure, and this imaginary smoking gun has left you very gun-shy.

"I ordered food for you to be delivered to the room. I expect you to eat something, even if it's not much. I don't want you dying on me." You push his hand into your face, trying to dry the tears. "I ordered a lot. I'm not sure what you like." You nod to affirm you hear him and plan to try, even though you're too nauseous to be hungry at the moment.

He uses his free hand to grab the clothing he pulled from your bag and puts it in front of you. He probably wasn't thinking too hard when he picked things out, but an oversized tee and men's basketball shorts are as comfy as it gets, so he did fine in your book. He left out undergarments, but honestly you couldn't care less at this point. Whatever covers you is fine. You pull his hand away from your face and place it on the bed gently. You grab the shirt, and he immediately turns away to let you put it on. You're able to throw it on along with the shorts in a few seconds, and quickly retrieve his hand when done. He turns back, maintaining the boundaries he interpreted.

"Any better?" He wipes away a few trailing tears now that you've slowed down a lot. You nod, still not sure how your voice is doing.

There's a knock on the door and Revenant pulls away gently to go get it. You hear a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

"I've got enough Chinese for like, five people. Who is even in this room? Are y'all having a sleepover in the abandoned room? To be fair I'd do the sa--"

Revenant opens the door and Sherry has a long pause to look up at the recipient. She doesn't even notice you, but you see her put the bags on the floor slowly and take a step back, hands up defensively.

"Okay, so it's a demon summoning, my bad..." Her sass is ever present. "And here I made the mistake of thinking I was running into some normal kind of fun."

"Sherry!" Your voice cracks back into action and the perfect moment. She shoots a look past Revenant to see you.

"You're summoning demons now?! Did you dump the tinman and summon an incubus as a bounce back or something?!" She looks up at Revenant, still not sure who it is. "Also, do demons really like Chinese food this much?"

"Sherry, shut up! I need a hug!" The tears are coming back, and Sherry valiantly slips under Revenant's arm to run to you. Revenant seems to be in complete shock at her brazenness, but also unwilling to stop her since you invited her in. He picks up the bag of food instead and brings it in, setting it on the television stand. Sherry leaps into a hug and you accept it graciously. Sherry is the closest thing you have to a sister and you could use someone like her right now. Revenant sits in the computer chair, watching you embrace closely, but not speaking or interfering.

"Where's the Revenant guy? What happened? Did he dump you? Did you run away? Who is this guy?" She immediately starts getting to brass tacks mid-hug. Although with her the hug won't end until you stop crying anyway.

"That is Rev, Sherry. It's just a different body." You manage to get out. She shoots Revenant a discerning look before slowly recognizing the similarities.

"Oh, hey, you're right. My bad, mister murder robot... haha..." She trails off nervously, Revenant only responding with a grunt and a huff. Suddenly, she snaps back into a fiery disposition. "Wait! Did you do something to her, you doofy-lookin' Beelzebub knockoff?! You may be able to gut me, but I'll defend her honor to my grave!" Now you're hugging Sherry to hold her back from trying to start something.

"It was a complete accident. I wasn't keeping track of how much she's been eating and I didn't catch her starving herself; plus I didn't expect this body to scare her as much as it did." Revenant doesn't lose an aggressive posture, but his words are fairly soft and empathetic.

"It's not that! I promise, it's not any of that!" You hug Sherry hard enough that she winces, but sensing your desperation she holds you tighter and pulls your head into her chest with no regard for what that may look like. You're glad you don't have those kinds of feelings for Sherry, otherwise this might be a bit strange. You see Revenant cock his head to the side and his eyes sharpen at the sight.

"It was the ride back, alone. That stupid driver was--" you choke, you hate saying these words out loud, "--a perverted bastard. An absolute dog." It comes out and devolves into a half-sob, thankfully still understandable. You start to cry again, reliving the things he said, not sure how you'd ever be able to say them yourself, even just to explain what happened.

"What happened? Did he hurt you? Are you okay?!" Sherry barely contains her concerns, if at all, squeezing you as you cry.

Revenant stands very slowly and methodically out of the chair, and begins to make some kind of animalistic growl you've never heard him make in your life. He paces back and forth, slowly stifling his growl as he goes. Sherry seems a bit concerned by him, but she continues to try to comfort you, awaiting an answer.

It takes almost a full minute to catch your breath again and be able to speak again, but you do.

"He didn't touch me. He just said things that--" Back to sobbing. You thought too far ahead and started to repeat his words again to yourself.

Despite your crying, Sherry sighs in relief, significantly less tense than before. She starts to rock you in her hug and you go along with it. Revenant's intensity only seems to worsen. He paces faster for a few moments as you cry, before he calms himself down enough to approach the situation.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to you and Sherry, currently latched on to each other. He doesn't attempt to pull you apart, he simply waits patiently. He's completely calm and collected now, with no signs of previous rage apparent, but you're sure it's still there.

"What kind of things did he say?" Sherry asks kindly, no sense of urgency in her voice. She plays with your hair a bit, which might as well be one of the greatest feelings in the world. It might be just distracting enough for you to get it out.

"He said he wanted to buy tapes..." You inhale heavily trying to hold back the inevitable runny nose. "...of Revenant cutting into me and... using me." Sherry gasps through her nose in disgust, but squeezes you tighter in response.

"I'm sorry, that's terri--"

"He said I should sell myself afterwards, that people would like me better if I still had... stuff... inside me." You cut her off but you're not done. Sherry is starting to get tense, but more notably, so is a particular simulacrum only a few feet away. "He said he wanted to watch it all! And try me for himself, too." That's all you needed to say, you're back to sobbing and Sherry starts to cry with you, unable to help her empathy. You're latched on to each other trying to comfort one another, but instead both of you are just a sobbing mess.

Revenant sits, lifeless for a moment, before standing up and limping towards the door.

"Revenant!" You call out to him through tears, and he stops and turns towards you, revealing his eyes are voids. He's in reboot. "Don't kill anyone." You try to sound confident, but you're not sure how it comes out. He turns away again, and limps out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He didn't acknowledge what you said, but you hope he heard you.

Sherry perks up, wiping away her own tears and pulling away for a moment.

"Do you think he'll listen?" Sherry seems stressed.

"I hope so."

• • • •

"So, he's actually an average person, stuck in a body that drives him to be a bloodthirsty assassin via software?" Sherry asks, taking another bite of the sweet and sour chicken.

"As far as I can tell, yeah... Wait, did you not know what a simulacrum was before now?"

"I meant to look it up but I never did. I figured it was like a brand-name or something." She giggles at herself, but you sense there's a chance she may be joking. "So, you actually do really like this spindly metal guy, after all? And he's so much older! You have mature tastes." She goes straight to teasing, now that you're feeling a bit better.

"I didn't say anything about that, ma'am." You stare at the General Tso's chicken in front of you, not sure if you can eat a third piece. You still feel wrong somehow.

"You don't have to. I think he likes you too. I mean, he isn't wearing your innards as a scarf. For him, that's something." She prods.

"He's not as bad as you think, you know." You don't know how to convince her without potentially telling her something Revenant wouldn't want you to.

"Sure, he just kills people on live TV for the paycheck." She shrugs. "Oh! And maybe killing some pervert who sexually harassed you right now."

"I didn't tell him to do that!" You snap, you legitimately don't want to have even a drop of that blood on your hands. Sure, this guy was an absolute creep, but he didn't lay hands on you. That's your limit, and he didn't cross it. He isn't as bad as Forge. That guy did cross the line. He crossed a lot of lines.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset." Sherry sounds genuine. You sigh.

"It's okay, I really hope he's just running off some steam. I hope he knows most of my distress was just depression winning." You poke the chicken.

"That's not true, I would have been so scared too. I mean, you were in real danger. It's a miracle you held it together at all, I'm not sure I could have. I still can't believe--"

The door swings open and Revenant walks in, stopping all conversation in its tracks. He's hunched forward, looking somewhat disappointed.

"I hope you're happy. He'll live." He looks you dead in the eyes, waiting for your reaction.

You smile openly, glad he heeded your request.

"Everyone in his contacts now has a copy of the encrypted files on his computer, all decrypted for their viewing pleasure." He breaks eye contact with you. "At least one of them is sure to call the feds when they see their inbox tomorrow."

"Oh geeze, he was that kind of creep?" Sherry exclaims out loud, still eating chicken.

"Oh yeah, he's been collecting a lot of really rare porn. Honestly, I wish you'd have just let me kill him so I didn't have to expose myself to that." You feel a little guilty that he had to dig through it, it explains why he looks so dejected.

"I'm sorry..." You can't help yourself, you feel bad when he seems upset about anything.

"How much have you eaten?" He seems to have noticed how full your box of chicken still is.

"Two pieces of chicken, and maybe one piece of broccoli." Sherry rats you out with a cruel grin on her face.

"Snitch!" You shoot back at her. She closes her box with a mischievous smirk, hops up, and starts to leave.

"Nice to meet 'ya, you synthetic Wendigo! Have fun and be safe, you two!" She slips past Revenant quickly and is out of the door, skipping down the hallway as the door slowly shuts behind her. Revenant watches her leave with some mix of confusion and concern. You turn to reassure him.

"She's fine. She won't say anything. She--"

"Clearly is some kind of competition for me. I mean, she held you like you two were bonded for life." He's immediately free to tease you with her gone. Thank goodness Revenant seems too shy to gang up on you with her; that would be untenable. He throws himself down next to you where Sherry once was. "I want that same kind of bond." He barely touches your chin with his claws, being sure to growl the last bit out loud.

You emit a whining noise, paralyzed by the thought. You're a bit more sensitive to it all at the moment, considering the events of the day. Revenant notices your struggle and pulls back, reverting to his demanding style.

"Eat your food. I didn't intend for your girlfriend to run off with a free meal and you not eat anything." It still feels weird coming from his new body, but you're getting used to it.

"She's just a good friend, that's all. And I was just too busy talking to eat, I still don't feel great though." You poke at the food, it's lukewarm by now but that isn't your main objection to it. You just don't feel like eating.

"Oh, so we aren't close enough yet for that kind of affection? I'll fix that soon enough." His voice hums. You sigh.

"Oh please," You pet his snout and he seems to enjoy it, getting him off your case for a bit, "Not right now, harass me later. If you want me to eat anything, you can't be doing this." He really seems to enjoy the snout rubs.

"Alright, fine, you eat, I'll talk." You pull your hand away and focus more on the food. "I have quite a number of these special chassis to myself, all kinds of designs and colors and other nonsense. These are my special occasion outfits, per sé." You nod, it makes sense. "This one, as well as many others, are modded to the brim with all sorts of fun additions." He touches his snout, noting where you pet it. "I can feel every single aspect of this suit, even those that don't conform to the human shape. Even better, it's neural processors are exponentially faster, meaning everything feels much more vivid and vibrant." He pulls his fingers to the nasal cavity. "I have an entire set of cores that do nothing but olfactory processing, so I get to be the better Bloodhound while I wear it." His fingers fall to his jaw. "This luxurious suit even gets a jaw with clamping power, canine teeth to snag whatever I want, and a synthetic tongue to taste the blood I spill." He starts to snarl his words as he pulls open his jaw to show you his mouth. He points to his horns next. "These things? Silicone carbide sections with rubber impulse reducers between." You stare at him with a look of minor confusion, so he clarifies. "I can headbutt a skull into fragments without even leaving a dent in my own." You wince at the thought. "Not to even mention the use of polyethylenes instead of metals in the body with support weights in the limbs makes it so I can move faster than ever but still hit just as hard. Not to even mention all the modifications below the neck. You'll see how much I destroy in tomorrow's match. I will win, I promise you that."

"Wanna bet?" You're happy with how confident he is, but you can't help but want to start something.

"And what do I have that you could possibly want?" Revenant asks the opposite of what you expect him to. Isn't the question usually posed the opposite way? You close up your leftovers and start going over to the kitchenette to put it in the fridge.

"Well, I wouldn't mind money or just hanging out with the prowlers again. I could put money on it too, just not enough to make it worth your while. Did you have something in mind?" The fridge is nearly empty, spare for that water bottle and liquor. You throw the box down on a shelf, close the door, and plop down on the couch in a lying position.

"So, if I don't win, I have to take you to see my puppies again, or give you money. Neither of those are objectionable to me, but when I win I get to take something instead?"

"Yeah, that's how I'm framing it. The extra motivation can't hurt. I just don't know what you'd want. I have some savings, but--"

"Forget the money, I don't exactly have much need for it and I have tons anyway. What I want..." He pauses for a moment as his voice turns sinister. "...is to hear you call me 'daddy' again while I take a piece of you." He seethes with a sadistically erotic tone.

You stare into space, your face must be red again.

"C'mon skinsuit, it's not every day I'm in one of my few suits with the proper equipment for it." He's loving the look on your face, undoubtedly. He's acting like this is a cruel joke, but... How far would he take this joke, though? Better yet, how far will you force him to take it? You still feel ill at ease about the idea, but you're suddenly angry enough to buck off the shame.

"Alright, fuck you but sure." Probably the ballsiest thing you've ever said in your life.

Revenant is caught off guard for a moment, his eyes dimming until they're nearly off, freezing in a somewhat shocked motion. After a few moments, you hear him slowly return as he laughs out loud. He has trouble containing himself, and goes to rub his mask again.

"You're insane, but I love that." He finally contains his laughter. "Your friend, what's her name?"

"Sherry." Weird change in subject but okay.

"Who's her favorite?"

"Wattson."

"Oh, perfect. I'll send a special request for her to keep you company during the match. I want you both to watch. I got my assigned team not long ago." He stands up from the edge of the bed and meanders over to the couch you're on, looming over you.

"Oh, are you with Wattson?"

"And Wraith. It's perfect for what I have planned." He never did explain what his plan was that day he dragged you all over the arena. "Loba's little triumph will pale in comparison to my massacre."

"Try not to make it too--"

"It will be bloody, gory, and brutal. Sorry little skinsuit, but you used up your pardon." He chides you from above before reaching down to help you up. "Now come, I need to warm something."

You stand up, a bit confused by his request, until he pulls you into a hug and you feel how strangely warm his body is. You're a bit taken aback at first, but you slowly ease into him and the warmth he offers.

"Luxurious, isn't it?" You feel his chest rattle into a purring sound as he cradles your head against his warm chest. "I like it too." He gently pulls you away from the couch before leading you to the bed.

You don't protest, you just crawl into bed and shuffle to the middle, making plenty of room for him to follow. You see the lights flick off, then feel his warmth press up against your back, cradling you completely. His snout rests on your shoulder, breathing into your ear. It's comforting, something you really needed after today.

"Thanks, Rev." You barely manage to whisper. He huffs in your ear as affirmation before you fall asleep.

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zhowongli · 4 years

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hello! i started a new thread because the other one (+ this one) got really long, so sorry! but i guess this is my love letters to you guys because you’ve made my tumblr experience so, so much better && i’m grateful for all of you guys + all of my mutuals and followers!!

first of all, @himawari-senpaii thank you so so much for your kind words! meggi, i love your sunflower motif because it suits you so well! sunflowers make me smile whenever i see them, and it really brings me so much joy to see you on my dash/notifs. your tags are always so fun and sweet. thank you for tagging me in this 🥺

@animoozies connie, where do i even start? you were my very, very first tumblr mutual on this account! i’m so thankful you reached out to me before, and you’re still checking up on me even now. words can’t describe how much i adore you + how appreciative of you! when i see you on my dash with your stories, i always end up cackling because you’re so fun. idk how you do it working all those hours + going to nursing school, but you is a mf boss ass queen!!

@hoekaashi ash, my queen!! my tag for you is my day is blessed because ash ✨exists✨ because that’s honestly how i feel about you. i am truly blessed with your kindness, your humor, your friendship, you. thank you for always keeping me company through our struggles in pharmacy school! you are one of the realest people i know, and i feel so honored that you always send me random kenma pics & fics you think i’d like 🥺

@kanao annette, the other half of my soul, my whole heart, my literal soul sister. you are one of the biggest blessings i’ve received this year, and i honestly don’t know where i would be without you listening to my dumb shit and supporting me through all my mess LOL. thank you for validating me all the time, even if it’s just stupid stuff like enabling me to buy all the random stuff that i’ve been thinking about LMAO. i love how we are always ✨speaking✨ and ✨manifesting✨ good things in our futures together. i literally feel like i can talk about any and everything with you, and i love that about us 🥺 i am manifesting that beach vacation 2021 for us, okay!!! 💖

@sapphitedreams leo, my cutest menace in the kitchen 💖 thank you for reaching out to me when i was too shy to reach out to you uuuu. you’re such a chaotic calm in my life, and i love your energy. i am constantly in awe with how adorable, supportive, and creative you are! even though you bully me sometimes and only make things for characters’ birthdays, you are so so talented and it floors me every time i see your creations because they are so amazing idk how they’re real. i hope you are able to get some rest even if you have to work during your break (& i hope you don’t accidentally fall during work anymore smh HAHAH)!

@onefortyninecm danielle!! my love!! i know i mention this before, but i am always so so inspired by you. you’re so tiny, but you have such a big heart and soul. you’re so beautiful inside and out + your humor is god tier. i’m so glad you were the very first person i’ve ever commissioned from (& spiraled me into comissioning indulgent kenma art HAHAHA), and i’m still amazed by your talent and kindness every time you post something new omg. i still can’t believe you DREW ON YOUR PHONE what the heck!! you’re so talented it’s crazy HAHA. i’m always thinking fondly of you + dandy wedding in a pumpkin patch 2021, okay thanks.

@p-irozhki rissa!! i am so blessed with all the gifs you create and all your content on my dash! whenever i think of you, i think about all the smol icons you use because to me, you = cuteness = i wanna hug you so much!!! i think i already said it, but i’m always so thankful when you read all my self-indulgent fanfics and leave kind comments on them 😭 thank you for culturing me about mangoes HAHAHA. there’s never a bad time with you, and i’m thankful we got to meet this year!

@hoshino-a lena lena! you actually have so much bde that i am in constant awe by you. you are such a baddie & i have this like clear imagine in my head of you with crisp and clean vibes + the skies from your pfp on discord, hehe. i love you and all your brain rots about your exes. at this point, every time i see semi, my first thought is “ah it’s lena’s ex” and whenever i hear some sad song, i would be like “omg it’s lena ab her ex semi eita” LMFAOIOAGJDLA. i love talking to you because your energy is just immaculate + i just love your presence 💖 also please get some sleep because do you even sleep 😭

@myelocin nic!! you’ve painted my world in so many iridescent shade so life, i can’t even begin to describe how much you mean to me. you works are just so beautiful so imagine how much i shrieked when i saw you followed me LMFAOOADIGDALJ i love that your blog is your safe space because it has become a place of comfort for me as well (and i’m going to miss you so much when you leave 😭😭). your makki brain rot is so strong, and sometimes i think about makki and you making dinner and teasing each other and throwing flour at each other or something idk. this is nic’s world now and we are all living in it tbh.

@tsu-kiss nina!! you are someone i find such comfort in. i’m not really sure if that even makes sense LOL. but your blog and you are a source of comfort for me. in my head, you have such an older sister vibe even though i’m older than you LMAOOADGHDAKJ. i hope life is treating you well because you deserve all the best!! seeing you thrive makes my heart so full 🥺 i love you so much!!

@souheii lisa!! i kid you not, the first time you dropped an ask in my ask box, my heart skipped a beat because you told me you love me and i love you and you are so cute and i cri!!!! i know we don’t talk often, but every time i see you on my dash or in my notifs or when we do talk, it’s like a little shot of serotonin every time :”) thank you for being such a lovely human being mrs. iwaizumi hajime, 27, althetic trainer😭

@ultkags cas!! my first child 💖 i know you’re on a hiatus right now because school really, really sucks BUT you are seriously one of my biggest blessings. you are literally my ray of sunshine because every time i talk to you, i gain so much warmth and energy from you. every time i see your edits, it absolutely AMAZES me because i literally don’t know how i am able to see all your edits FOR FREE?? all your thoughts behind the composition and symbolism for each piece is CRAZY. please remember that i’m always your biggest fan + i love you so so much. please take care and remember to drink water and get some rest!! your grandma is always here to send you love + forehead kisses because this grandma can’t bake :(

@u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum ree!! hi, i know we’ve only started talking recently but i love how open and warm you are. our love was so strong that even tumblr tried to stop us 😭 conversations with you are always so easy and lovely, and you are just such a cool person!? i love reading all your thoughts (& i can’t wait to dive into your masterlist after school ends because we live for fluffy tsumu content 😭). i’m not sure why you even follow me, but i adore you so much!!

@neonghxst el, where do i even begin!! you are such a lovely person, and i literally have no other words to say because you always leave me speechless. your writing is so so gorgeous, and you are so so beautiful. i love reading all your stories because they truly leave an everlasting impact on me, and i love reading your interactions + just seeing you on my dash. you are so thoughtful, and you take care of everyone around you so well. i hope that you are also giving yourself the same treatment because you deserve all the best as well! remember to drink water in between your coffees and get some rest as you go into your final 2 weeks of the semester!!

@und3lla maliha! hi love! i know we haven’t spoken much or in a while, but i really do always think of you randomly. you were one of the first mutuals i made && you are such a sweet soul. i love how every time we talk, it really fills me up with happiness. thank you for just being such a lovely person && you truly are one of the softest people i’ve met. thank you <3

@deadontheinsidebut angel, my dumb ham, my queen, my hoe (heaven on earth), my everything. i know you are also on a semi-hiatus right now because everything that’s going on, but i hope you are properly taking care of yourself >:( i’m always here to remind you to drink some water in between your coffees and teas and to GET SOME REST. you are so so driven, and i really admire how open and friendly you are. you truly are your namesake because you are literally an angel, and i always feel so blessed to be in your presence (even if you bully me sometimes for being a boomer 😔). words can’t describe how much i love you and care about you && i hope that you are able to find what you’re looking for during your break! 💖

@rumprich ananya! hello! i am so thankful to see you and all your content on my dash. you have so much creativity, and all your edits are so aesthetically pleasing to look at? like it’s so light + pretty!! i’m so so grateful that we are mutuals somehow because ahhh i really don’t deserve you. you are so adorable, and i truly am blessed to see your presence!

@yuki-souma vee! i know we only started talking very very recently, but you are so much fun to talk to! i love how diverse our conversations are, and i love that we have similar favorites, and even when we don’t, it’s always a fun conversation that i look forward to! i love how open and inviting you are, and i’m really grateful that we are mutuals + i love and appreciate you so so much!

@owlywrites owly! hello! you are seriously one of the most supportive souls i’ve met on this website. your kindness and drive to learn always leaves me speechless because you’re so amazing. thank you for being so kind to me, and i hope you extend that same kindness to yourself! don’t be so hard on yourself and remember to take breaks and take care too. you are such a beautiful soul, and i hope you’ll remember that i’m always here to support you!!

@graphicstills-in-motion hi arianne! thank you so so much for always being so kind to me. i don’t know what i did in life to deserve you, but i must have done something right to have someone so kind like you in my life! thank you for being such a sweet soul + always boosting everyone around you up. your kindness is definitely contagious! i love seeing your edits and reading our conversations because there are always so many thoughts put in. thank you <3

@applepienation justine! thank you so much for always checking in on me whenever i post random shit on my dash. i really do appreciate you and all that you do for not just me, but also for everyone around you. you are such a ray of sunshine, and i’m so thankful that you’re in my life! i know uni is crazy for you right now, but i hope you’re still taking time to take care of yourself! sending you lots of love and positive energy!!

@touyax drake! hi love. i absolutely LIVE for your tags LMAOOADJGALD. they are literally my thoughts but you just typed them out HAHAH. i’m so thankful that i get to see your beautiful content on my dash, and i’m always in awe by all your edits! thank you for always being such a fun person + never leaving me feeling like a fool whenever i post ask games LOL. i love and appreciate you so much! 💖

@kagehjna ilayda! my kagehina supplier 🥺🥺 i love seeing your presence on my dash because you truly post all the best things! you are such a lovely person + i love reading your tags HAHA. you are truly a joy and we will definitely have matching kagehina icons one day okay 😭😭 12/7 is finally here/coming SO I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!! thank you for always blessing me <3

@sadaharus hi mei! you are literally the definition of softness to me. all your content and edits are just so soft and beautiful, and i love seeing everything you post. you are my main gintama supplier HAHA. i really appreciate how kind you are + how you’re always so sweet to me. 🥺 i know it’s kinda funny how i started following you because of a random ask game, but i’m so so glad i did because i always feel so thankful you’re here!

@fake-charliebrown charlie! my little sprout babie!! i have so much admiration for you because you have so so much talent! your style is so distinctive, and i love that!! it’s so soft + vibey, and i’m honestly so so amazed by it all. not to mention, you have the best haikyuu thoughts! thank you for sharing all of that with me! i’m thankful for you, thank you <3

@itachihaa ay! my froggy princess 🥺 thank you for always being so kind to me + having the patience to deal with how slow i am to responding!! i’m really appreciative of you always because you make/have so much beautiful content and you are so so sweet as well!? and the way you call me miss starlight 🥺 that makes me so soft like!! uuu i love you.

@stardust-make-a-wish star! you are so so adorable!! i LOVE reading your tags because they make me feel so fuzzy and soft but also relatable HAHA. your presence is such a joy + thank you for always interacting with me even though i just spam random stuff LMAO. i love how thoughtful your answers are + how much you love cake/sweets (very suiting because you are so sweet 🥺). thank you for being interested in me even though i am the one asking you questions!

@karasu-hoes daisy! hello! i have so much admiration for you because you have so much creativity and kindness! like your events are so cool and unique + your writing is so beautiful! i love reading your feral thoughts + all your work. i also really love reading your witching hours!!! thank you for blessing me with you 🥺 you are always so kind + i love how much you care about your friends and the people around you. i hope you’re taking care while renewing your teaching certifications! 💖

@frailuta nico! hello love! i know we haven’t really spoken before, but i just want to know i love you so much. you make the most beautiful gifs + i truly am in awe every time you post something. life is tough sometimes, but you are tougher! sending so so much love and positive energy to you + please remember to take care! <3

to all my mutuals and followers: thank you so so much for sticking with me and my mess of a blog. i honestly don’t really contribute much to anything, but i’m so thankful you guys are still here! thank you, thank you, thank you! i love and appreciate all of you guys + my ask box/messages are always open if you want/need someone to talk to 💖 thinking fondly of everyone today + so much love to you guys mwah mwah!

#text #this got really long but #i am really truly thankful for everyone of you #i have so so much love for you guys #sending all my love and positive energy to you guys #i'm so sorry sometimes i'm really slow at responding but #i really do think of you guys!!#love you all mwah mwah

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marvelfansince08love · 4 years

Text

“It’s you, you idiot. I’m in love with you!”

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 3060

Warning: My bad writing I guess

Prompt 13, “It’s you, you idiot. I’m in love with you!”

A/N: Van my darling, my best gal. I hope you enjoy this. I may have been inspired by your baking attempts with this prompt ngl x

Thank you to @canarypoint again you legend x

Also Tumblr really didn’t like me uploading this so I’m sorry if it’s all bunched together.

Tags: @missmonsters2

“It’s you, you idiot. I’m in love with you”

"Okay, I went to five different stores, nearly killed a guy and almost lost the checklist. However, I managed to find everything you needed to make that dish, Myshka" Nat says, rushing through the kitchen; both hands full of bags filled with ingredients. I wipe the bead of sweat from between my brow and sigh in relief, before leaning towards her and planting a quick kiss to her cheek.

"You are the best assassin and friend a girl could ask for" Nat fakes disgust as she wipes at her cheek.

"Yeah, yeah if I didn't like the idea of you trying to woo her so much. You'd be joining the guy at the store" she grumbles while helping me remove all the ingredients from the bags. We both make quick work at preparing the famous Chicken Paprikash dish and with Nat's amazing abilities at being able to read almost every language it almost seemed effortless.

If we both weren't so bad at cooking.

I keep an eye on the time, anticipating her arrival home. Wanda, Steve, Bucky and Sam had been sent on an undercover mission almost two weeks ago, the whole thing had been kept under the radar with only a few of us in the know.

"You think we have enough time, Nat?"

"Of course, Sam messaged me about half an hour ago. They'll be back in 2 hours that gives us plenty of time to cook this dish and help build up your courage to finally confess your undying love for our, Malen'kaya Ved'ma (little witch). Now stop pacing around, you're making me dizzy"

Since joining the Avengers over a year ago, I've gotten to know each of them very well, already knowing Natasha and Clint from our Shield days it was an easy transition into the great band of supers, that was until I met Wanda Maximoff. Her sparkling hazel eyes and long chestnut hair framing her beautiful face with that shy smile had me a goner from the moment I laid my eyes on her. After a few weeks of being with the team every day for training and team-bonding sessions, the more I realised how much fun and carefree Wanda could be. After speaking to Clint one drunken night about our blossoming friendship outside of the team buildings and training I was dumbfounded by how shocked he was to hear about that side of Wanda which they all only catch small glimpses off. According to Clint after losing her brother she was an empty shell of herself just moving through life as if it was a chore and not a gift to walk this earth.

I guess she just needed a reason to live again.

After that revelation I continued to spend time with her alone, I asked more about her and her life in Sokovia, her face lighting up talking about her family and all the traditions they would follow each year even if her and Pietro weren't overly fond of them. Some nights there were tears as she spoke fondly of her brother and her parents no matter how briefly they were mentioned. She would laugh at all the stories I would tell her about our shield adventures both on mission and around the base, her mouth wide and eyes bright with mischief as I relay the story about how me and Nat unscrewed the screws from one of the vents just enough for Clint to fall through right above Fury's office while he was in a meeting with the council. Since she's been away and radio silent, I've never felt so lost even with Natasha around trying her best to cheer me up and letting me win more sparring matches than ever before.

I take a deep breath in and settle my nerves before helping Nat continue to season the chicken.

"Okay so it says that we have to boil the rice in a non-stick pan? How do we tell the difference?" I look at her dumbfounded.

"For someone who's supposed to be the world’s most smartest, most deadliest assassin you sure are dumb" I state, I can feel her eyes burning into me. If looks could kill...

"Do you want my help or not?"

"No, no I need your help. Thank you Natalia" I say sweetly, smiling innocently at her. She rolls her eyes and continues with the rice.

Once everything is in the cooker and pan, we retreat to the kitchen island, a bottle of beer in hand as we talk about anything and everything. After some time had passed, I'm interrupted by Nat's hand indicating for me to stop talking as she sniffs at the air.

"What is that god awful smell?"

My eyes widen in fear as I start to notice the smoke coming from the pan. I race to grab the fire extinguisher while Nat tries desperately to turn everything off and open the kitchen window. I quickly release the white foam over the pan cutting the small fire off, as I step back my foot slips slightly on the wet floor, sending me crashing to the floor but not before I manage to hit Nat square in the face with the foam. I groan slightly at my now bruised ass and tenderly sit up, leaning against the counter behind me.We both sit in silence for a moment before bursting into laughter, Nat joining me on the floor, so we're shoulder to shoulder.

"Let's agree to never cook again".

"Agreed"

"God damn it, look at my shirt it’s ruined! I can't confess anything to her looking like this! She'd think I'm crazy!" I quickly unbuttoned my shirt revealing a thin, white tank top underneath.

"What the hell happened here?" The most angelic voice exclaims by the kitchen doorway, our eyes widen as we both come to the same conclusion.

She's back. Early.

I quickly scramble to my feet and try to adjust myself accordingly before sending her a beaming smile which quickly turns in a worrying frown after taking in her tired complexion, her hazel eyes no longer holding that bright twinkle whenever she smiles. A large cut visible across her right eyebrow and Sam standing behind her not looking any better.

"Oh my god, Wanda!" I race forward and delicately place my hands on either side of her face, my eyes scanning every inch of skin. She winces slightly before grasping my forearms gently and removing them away from her face.

"Oh Sam, how are you? You want me to help clean up that cut, maybe get you snack" I hear Sam mutter behind us rhetorically.I roll my eyes in good nature as Nat laughs behind me.

"I'm okay, Lumina mea (my light). You should see the other guy" she attempts a small grin before casting her eyes over to the mess that is the kitchen and Nat quietly trying to salvage the meal, with no real joy. I blush at hearing her native tongue slip through at the end of her sentence even if I don't understand the meaning behind the saying.

"Again, I'll ask, what the hell happened in here and why can I smell paprika?" Her cute button nose scrunches adorably as she takes in my crumbled-up shirt and Nat's wet face.

"Oh, well we uh.. decided to try and cook a meal for you guys. We know the mission was rough and wanted to surprise you all, we kind of got carried away" I grimace at my cowardly response, I can feel the disappointment in waves from Natasha's direction.

Okay so I'm not ready to come out with it yet, sue me.

"Oh, you could have waited until I got back and asked me to help. You know how much I love to make paprikash"I can see the hurt in her eyes even though she tries to brush it off with a small smile. She knows what a bad cook Nat is and how much she loves cooking for you both after a rough mission.

Great, you've also offended her.

Good going Y/N.

There's an awkward silence between the four of us before Wanda clears her throat and takes a step back towards the entrance way.

"I'm gonna go and get cleaned up, I'll see you both at the party tonight, yes?" She addressed us both, but her eyes stayed locked on mine. I blush slightly at the thought of her wanting my company.

Please she was addressing you both Y/N, as if you would ever stand a chance.

"Of course, Wanda, we wouldn't miss it" Nat answers for us as I continue to stare at her. I quickly avert my eyes and nod in acknowledgement.

"We'll be there"

Once she leaves a dry towel hits me square in the chest, I instantly catch it while looking up in the direction of the thrower.

"Come on lover girl, let's clean this mess up and order a take away. I'm starving. Also, Sam "we'll be there in two hours" can you not map out a timescale"

"Listen I lost a lot of blood tryna get out of that place, forgive me please" he grumbles jokingly as he sulks out of the room, mumbling about never getting any attention for how badass he is.

***

A few hours pass by and before I know it, I'm making the final touches to my makeup. A loud knock echoes in the room before Nat swings it wide open and struts in looking like a red-headed goddess. Her dark green off the shoulder dress clinging to her in all the right places. With one more stroke of my mascara brush I turn and face my best friend with a grin.

"You ready?"

"If you need me tonight, I'll be behind the bar, slowly drinking my boredom away" "Hey, am I such bad company?!"

"Well youuuu, missy is going to charm your way into Maximoff’s pants. Therefore, you will be too busy to entertain me tonight, Myshka"

"Nat, I don't think tonight is the right time, you saw how she looked in the kitchen today. She doesn't need me pestering her all night"

"Actually, it's the perfect time! Go an' comfort her and if you manage to slip in that you love her then great!" I roll my eyes in good nature before making my way to my door.

"Come on, Romanoff. I need a drink"

***

The party is too loud and overly crowded with people none of us really know with drinks flowing around every part of the room.

"Why does he always feel the need to throw a party every time we finish a mission?"

"Would he be Tony if he didn't? You gotta give him credit though this party is insane" Nat murmurs beside me, making me chuckle in agreement.

My eyes are already scanning for the beautiful brunette avenger. Nat notices me searching and shoves me forward slightly.

"Go find her, I'll be by the bar" with one last shove, I'm left by myself looking out into the crowd.

My eyes finally land on the brown-haired beauty, I bite my lip as I take in her form. A long black flowy dress falls just past her knees with the straps of the dress sitting comfortably just off the shoulder, giving me a great view of her cleavage. Her hair hangs curled and loose over her shoulders, her red lipstick perfectly in place.

God she's beautiful.

As I continue to take her in, I notice an unfamiliar arm resting around her waist. I look up to identify the persons whose arm it is and my heart stops as I witness this man lean his mouth to her ear and whisper some bullshit that makes her laugh out, he pulls back clearly satisfied with the response he got from her. As if sensing a presence her eyes turn and rest upon me, a soft smile forming on those red lips. I quickly drop my gaze and turn away from her, heading straight to the bar; trying hard to blend into the crowd.

"Why the sour face?" Nat questions as she instantly hands me a bottle from behind the bar.

"You didn't tell me she was seeing someone" I sulk to her before taking a big gulp from the bottle, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. Nat's eyebrows pinch together as if confused by my statement. She leans forward slightly over the bar to peer over my shoulder to take a good look at Wanda and the mystery man.

"Who? Matthews? Please that guy wishes he could have her. She's just being polite Y/N" Nat tries to reassure me, but I can't seem to remove the image out of my head.

"It's not like I stood a chance anyway" I grumble grabbing the vodka shot from Nats hand and letting the burning liquid flow down my throat. After a few hours of drinking with Nat; who’s now joined me on the other side of the bar, I start to feel the effects of the alcohol hit me as I laugh out loud from the stupid stories Nat seems to be sharing. Any thoughts of Wanda and her mystery guy fading into the background of my mind.

Or that's what I keep telling myself.

In my daze, I quickly lose my balance on the bar stool but before I could hit the floor, I feel a familiar strong arm wrap itself around me, steadying me on the stool.

"Careful Myshka, you'll end up on your ass" Nat teases as I start to lean heavily against her, sleep fighting to take over.

"Also, just to let you know Maximoff has been looking over here all night and throwing daggers at me, similar to the one she's throwing right now" Nat says clearly amused at the concept. She leans herself further towards me and traces her finger up and down my arm slightly, my eyes widen in surprise before she leans in and whispers:

"Just got with it"

Before I have a chance to question her, I feel a warm body pressed into my back. I gasp slightly at the faint smell of cherries and forest, the smell consuming my senses. I close my eyes briefly knowing that smell all too well. Her lips brush slightly against my ear, making me shiver.

"Can I talk to you in private, Y/N" I barely have time to nod before her arm is wrapping tightly around me and escorting away from Natasha and out of the room. Once we are alone, she releases her hold on me and starts to pace in front of me, her dress sway slightly with each turn. I stand watching her waiting for her to gather her thoughts, I bite my lip anxiously debating whether to make the first move. She stops suddenly and takes a deep breath in before releasing it into the open air and turning to look at me with a heartbroken expression.

"You've been avoiding me all night" I gape at her forwardness before replying defensively:

"No, I haven't, maybe you've been a little preoccupied with prince charming on steroids in there to notice me at all!" She frowns slightly, almost bashfully.

"You mean Matthews? Y/N that guy has a brain of a mouse. I was simply being polite. Anyway, you are one to talk! Are you and Nat ever going to go public because the way shes’s being all handsy with you tonight, you may as well let everyone know!" Now it's my turn to gape at her in shock becoming slightly annoyed.

I take a step towards her slightly wanting to keep her full attention on me as I feel the word vomit slowly creeping its way up my throat.

"Are you being serious right now?! Me and Nat are best friends that's never even been a thought! Are you so blind to see Wanda?! You think I'd go and pick up your favourite flowers every Thursday even though they make my nose itch and makes me sneeze because I thought they'd brighten up your bedroom? You have plants covering every window sill! You think I'd attempt to cook a dish that I can barely understand let alone cook and make a complete mess of it for just anyone?! Wanda you are always in my thoughts every day, the past two weeks have been torturing for me wondering when you'd be home. I missed you all the damn time! I missed our nights in where it was just the two of us watching crap reality television because even though we make fun of it we both secretly love the drama" She stares at me in shock, her lip twitching into a smile ever so slightly at the last part of my confession.

Her silence clearly an invitation for me to continue:

"But you really want to know what I missed about those nights while you've been gone. I missed watching your beautiful face scrunch up slightly as you slowly doze off with your head falling onto my shoulder. I would stay sitting in that upright position for hours if it meant keeping you like that, close to me. Wanda there could never be a me and Nat... you wanna know why? It's you, you idiot. I'm in love with you!"

Her emerald green eyes drop to the floor, suddenly finding it very interesting before a wide smile settles on her red lips and her eyes slowly make their way to meeting mine.

“You love me?”

“Yes I love you, you idiot” I whisper, shuffling slightly feeling uncomfortable and exposed with my feelings.

Before I can turn and hide away from my embarrassing confession, I feel warm, soft lips press hard against my own, the taste of vanilla chapstick lingers on my lips as I brush my tongue gently against her bottom lip making her gasp, granting me access. Our tongues clash, both fighting for dominance before pulling away slightly, my teeth catching her bottom lip gently and tugging at the soft skin softly before letting go with a small pop.

"If I'm an idiot, I'll be an idiot who’s in love with you too" she whispers breathlessly into the open air between us, her forehead resting gently against my own.

I smile.

#wanda maximoff x female!reader #my prompts #prompt request #wanda maxim #wanda #fluff #i hope it's good

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deepdonutkid · 3 years

Note

Hi, I'm so sorry it took me so long, I wanted to make it short as possible but always failed so...I have one that is somewhat short (this hurt me so much because when I'm describing something, it is LOONG) and second that is LOONG (that is why I warned you that I actually wrote horribly written "one-shot" or what it is actually, it would be much better, if you have time, to read both...when I tried to make it short, I maybe cut out important things...).

Like I said the girl is my OC, and her name is Sinon (given by Poll), but she is actually Maya (given by her real parents). And I gave names to her parents. But yeah, you can read it, consider if you will write it and change anything you want. Surely there are mistakes, holes and things that don't make sense.

I completely understand if you don't want to write it like "You wrote it yourself, what do you want from me, go to hell." But hey, I'm not a writer, I hate writing and I'm dead sure you can write it 100% better. To me, it looks like a grocery list. If you don't want to write it, just tell- JUST TELL ME TO F*CK OFF. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 (my apologizing must be annoying, welp, sorry once again).

So yeah.

I will send both, if you have any question, or if you don't want to write it, feel free to tell me.

➡ Short one: Ada brings to Polly a baby girl after the woman stopped her, gave her to her and quickly left. Ada discovers a small book, with the letter and a note with the name "Shelby" written on it. Polly thinks that the woman was a whore and the baby is his due to having also blue eyes. Polly decides to not saying anything to Thomas and adopts her herself. The girl grows and is known as an angel among demons. The Shelby's brothers love her, but Thomas...he lives for her. She loves him and he loves her (just...ugh 💝💗💘💓💖💕💞). They play, dance, everything. She is helping him with nightmares, bad moods, not hearing shovels, etc. Life goes by and Thomas loses his wife and brother. Polly and Ada want to cheer him up by telling him that the girl is maybe his daughter but he gets angry and says nasty things about the girl, she hears it and runs. After some time he wants to apologize but Ada stops him. She tells him she contacted the girl's family to pick her up. Thomas is devastated, not only because she leaving, but because he was just a dick to her and can't properly apologize. The Shelby's say goodbye to the girl and she leaves. After years (S5), Thomas is not himself anymore, regrets everything, etc. One day he is closed in his office sitting on the floor, mess around him and hallucinating. Then he hears knocking on the floor and is met with the blue eyes of the much older girl. He thinks she is the only hallucination and wants to shot himself, but she throws stuff into his face, launches at him, hugs him and pushes him and herself to the floor. She tells him that despite everything she loves him and that she missed him. He just hugs her tightly, begging her to forgive him and to never leave him alone ever again. They'll fall asleep and after a few hours when Tommy wakes up, his sister comes in and tells him she and her father are back and he will buy a house here. The girl never left Thomas's side and helped him heal.

➡ Disgustingly long one (it's funny how much of a useless words/sh*t Tumblr allows you to write): Ada brings the baby to Poll after a weak-looking woman approaches her and asks her if she could look after her baby because she needs to check something. When they take a look at it, their eyes meet with two beautiful big blue ones and an adorable smile of a baby girl. After washing the baby Ada discovers a note saying the name "Shelby" wrapped in the blanket. Polly immediately thinks the woman was a whore, got pregnant, then fell ill and now threw fruits of karma back at where it belongs, to Thomas Shelby. Ada asks Polly what they'll do now, but Poll doesn't say anything, Ada look at her and see Polly with a sweet smile and tears in her eyes. She wants to keep it. Why give this sweet little being to the most dangerous man in Birmingham when she can say nothing to him and rise her like her own? Ada agrees but is unsure at the same time...what if that woman wasn't a whore? What if she never had something with the Famous Thomas Shelby? She looked weak, ill, but stressed and maybe...sad? She remembers her crying and kissing this baby's head when leaving, that is not what unloving mothers do...

Polly rising this baby as best as she could now was the most beautiful, kind, clever, brave girl that ever ran through streets of Small heath. She had honey-blonde hair, similar to Ada's in style and length with long curtain bangs on her face and beautiful blue eyes, similar to Tommy's. She never liked girl clothes, always wearing boy clothes after Finn. Shelby brothers loved her so much, she never was problematic, never wanted to know things about the business, only have her little happy life and do fun things with her family when they made time for her, and oh boy they made it plenty. They played with her, danced with her, sang with her. But Thomas, a man who was drawn to this little girl like no one, was everywhere she was. She loves him and he loves her, she was something beautiful to him, peace in mind and heart, always melting how she treated him like a normal person, not thinking about all the bad things he did and just loving him for not so many good ones. He wants her to feel loved like she is one of them, not allowing her to question herself because somebody said she is not Gray, nor Shelby, that she is different and too good for Gypsies like them, like a real diamond among cheap bijouterie, an angel among demons. She helped him to sleep after every nightmare, with bad moods, stop hearing shovels against the wall.

Life goes by and Thomas experience the worst days of his life...he loses his wife and brother. The girl wants to soothe him everything will be fine. She was almost there when she heard Polly and Ada in his office, so she stayed behind the doors and listened to what were they about to say, maybe they trying to soothe him too. Little did she know what she'll about to hear. Ada and mainly Polly tells Thomas a secret about a girl Ada brought home, that Poll didn't find her in front of her doors, that in reality some whore approached Ada and pushed her her baby with a note saying the name "Shelby", and left. She didn't want to take care of a bastard child. And, our girl has the same eyes. But Tommy only scoffs and slams his hands on the table. After everything he's been through, they come up with this shit? They thought they are helping him, that his sweet girl is actually really his, that it will give him new hope for a new beginning, Thomas thought they can't be serious. His wife died, is now a single father, his brother died and now this?? He starts to shout he's not the father of good for nothing, any whore belonging, an odd, snotty and annoying child he never loved. Polly wants to beat him, strangle him but hears behind the door sobbing of her " daughter"...Polly is cursing his nephew before running after her girl, Ada following right after her. Thomas is unable to move, doesn't know what to do...He regrets every word second after but being stubborn cretin in his whole gory, he doesn't follow them but sit into his chair and let silence eat him alive.

After a few days of not facing his family and overthinking what to say and do, his sister stops him in his tracks. He's forced to sit and she starts to explain why is she here. She pulled out of her coat a burned sheet of paper, a small book and starts reading:

"Dear Thomas Shelby,

If you receive this letter...I'm begging you, please, to help my daughter. My name is Bella Rogers and I got separated from my husband, Scott Rogers when we were running from America to England. I heard about you from people in London. (Some people told her Thomas Shelby, so she went somewhere he likes to go in London, to his sister. And bc he never stayed long, she gave the baby to Ada.). I know I can't expect anything but please, contact this person (her husband's mother), tell her you saved my daughter, Maya Rogers. Tell them our names. You are my only hope now. Please help my daughter, please help me...

Thank you deeply,

Bella Rogers.

(Adress or number of her mother-in-law)

Ps: Please tell my daughter I love-"

And stopped.

Flashback: When the girl was growing, Ada confronted Poll with a small book in her hands.

Present: She handed the burned book to Thomas and he took it.

Flashback: She told Polly that the girl belongs to someone else and they deserves to know what happened to her and her mother.

Present: He carefully opened it.

Flashback: Polly knew it was selfish to keep her here, but she loved her so much she ignored every word.

Present: He started to spell the girl's name, date of birth, her parent's names, their date of birth...

Flashback: Ada begged Polly to think about this, she felt bad for a father and family that they didn't know what happened to them, but Polly had enough, she grabbed the book and a letter Ada was holding and threw it into the fireplace and with teary eyes left, Ada immediately took a piece of wood and got both things out of the fire, hoping that everything wasn't lost.

Present: Ada knocked on the table, drawing Thomas's attention from his thoughts. She swears she could see tears forming in his eyes when she told him she already contacted Rogers family and they are coming from America to get her back. He felt betrayed, he wanted to vomit. Ada tells him Polly already knows it and hesitantly agreed and that maybe it's better he said what he said, she wouldn't miss him that much and he made it easier for her not to think about him, which made him snap his eyes from the ground back to Ada. He asks her when they will arrive. An hour. Instead of getting up and do something he just sat there, sharply inhaled, and started crying. He cried, with his sister by his side, hugging him, crying as well.

When an hour was about to pass, they took all courage they had and get going to meet their girl's family and say goodbye. He wasn't ready. He never wanted to be ready for something like this.

Now they were standing there, in the uncomfortably big room, face to face with their Rogers family, two grandmothers, one grandfather and one father. He looked more beaten up by time than Thomas himself. They on the one side and Thomas, Poll and other Shelby's, Ada not with them but with the girl preparing. They greet each other, had a glass of whiskey, awkwardly debated about stuff, business, America...when then a young man asked where his daughter is, not willing to wait anymore. They called and there she was, hiding behind Ada's leg after coming into a room full of people she knew and didn't know. Her father immediately started to cry, slowly kneeled and opened his arms. She was looking at him and after a minute she starts to cry too...she maybe was the baby, but she remembers him, his face, his voice. She lets go of Ada's skirt and runs into his arms for the warmest and tightest hug she ever received. All members of Rogers family are immediately around her, introducing themself. And she's smiling, hugging everyone like she knows them for years. Thomas can't bear the sight of them so happy, especially her. He wanted so much to be in their place. He doesn't know why but asks Ada if they are really who they may be and Ada looks at him, understanding from where this is coming from. She shows him a slightly burned photo of their girl and her parents. "I remember how her mother looked like," Ada says. "And I remember her." Tommy is pointing at the baby in the middle, and Ada chuckles. "Yes, me too." "And now she about to be taken away from us and we can't do anything about it" ". Ada tries to hide her tears. They now looking at Arthur and Polly with Finn behind him hugging the girl and begging her to visit them every summer and Christmas. They kiss each other, Polly goes into a loving bear hug and kisses the girl on the cheek like million times. Uncle Charlie, Shelby's wives, even some of Peaky Blinders members themself like Curly. Now it was Ada who hugs the girl and then looks at her lovingly. "I'm gonna miss you, we all will." The girl softly smiles but looks at Thomas with an apathetic expression. Ada looks at him as well but Thomas is ghostly absent, just staring at the girl with glossy eyes, happy moments with his girl running in front of his eyes. He couldn't bear it anymore, he never ran from things, but now...He snapped into reality, quickly shaken with hands of the other side, wished them luck, TOO quickly ruffled the girl's hair and left, Ada following right after him. Rogers family just stared. Eventually, Rogers family said goodbye with the girl in their arms and left. They promised they will visit them.

That same day at night Thomas couldn't sleep, well, he never really slept after the girl left...

Years passed and Thomas was like a corpse, functioning only on 50%, if even. Ada and Poll tried to talk to him, Lizzie, his brothers tried too, but nothing helped, eventually all of them stopped. He regretted everything. One day was especially hard. Thomas was in his office, sitting on the floor with face in both hands. Around him a broken glass, two other chairs and papers. He was hearing his wife, crying charlie, shovels against the wall, gunshots, ghostly breathing. Everything was too loud. But nothing as loud as three soft knocks on the door. He lifted his head when a person who knocked came inside. His blue eyes met other blue ones. There she was, standing in front of him, much bigger and older, with a teddy bear he once bought for her. She still had it? How?. He couldn't believe it. He thought his mind is messing with him. You're not here, you're not real he said to her and every time he said it, she denyed that. He wanted to end this, grabbed his gun at aimed it at his head, but before he could do anything, a teddy bear hit his face. He opened his eyes and tried to process what just happened. You just threw your teddy bear into my face he asked. She said yes and that if she wasn't real, it wouldn't hit him. So...she was real? But how best to know your sanity is gone, then to welcome whatever your mind was made you see into your arms?

She ran to him, Thomas expected her to dissolve under his touch, but little did he know both of them would end up on the floor. She was giggling, saying he doesn't have any strength and fell easily, he on the other hand had eyes wide open, tears start to sting them. Thomas didn't waste a second and wrapped his arms around her warmly and tightly, proving to her even he can give this kind of hugs. He started to cry, cry like he never did, everything went out, rocking forward and backwards, face in her neck, begging her not to leave him alone ever again. He continued apologizing about what he said, for how bad he is, what he's done. She told him that despite everything she will always love him and that he missed him so much. He stroked her hair gently and she cuddled into him. He felt safe again. He finally was in peace.

When he woke up, he and the girl were covered in a blanket. He sits up. He smiled but got worried at the same time. How did she get in here? He needed to know. But before he could wake her up, somebody knocked. "Tommy?" Ada whispered into the room and walked in. She smiled, seeing Thomas with a little one sleeping in his lap, both covered in a blanket a cuddled to each other was....beautiful and cute. She carefully sits next to him and leans against his shoulder. He asked her how is she here, where is her father her, family. She said he didn't want to go back to America, his only plan from the whole beginning was to move to England with his wife and raise a child here, that he is buying a house. Somewhere nice and safe. In memory of his wife. A new beginning, new hope. And that she was sad and depressed. It wasn't fair from them to keep his daughter and it wasn't fair to just grab her and leave, promising to come back and never mean it. He put his cheek on the girl's hair and brushed it slowly. I think I can live with that he said. Ada chuckled. The rays of sunshine shined into his office. This is his new beginning, new hope. And he was willing to fight for it like a lion.

Eventually, the girl stayed with Shelby's family. The girl's father bought a house a few villages away so he could always pick her up and be with him. He made a little monument for his wife where his daughter put flowers Thomas or Ada bought. He knew who Shelby's were, but just like his wife telling Ada she trusted her when giving her baby to her, he trusted the rest of the family. Happy Ending!

Thank you for your time!!!!😍😍😍😍

Omg, you didn't lie, this was fucking long for a request... if this can be called a request at that length!

I really like the idea tho and it's super cute, Tommy with his daughter, etc.

Like you offered, I'm going to change a few things or to be percise... I will take the short version, because this already got me thinking and the long version was basically a story already.

I like to fill in the gaps myself and make this a full story, but it's going to take a while... because I have loads of other requests and I can't shut up... so I might write +10k again... for this idea.

Or multiple parts, I don't know yet XD

Gosh, I have to say it again... this is a long ass request... coming from meeee, the person who writes 12k ONE- SHOTS XD

Thank you for sending this in! 🌹

9 notes · View notes

vanxcks · 4 years

Text

all my bones coming back

Slowly, Jon and Martin grapple with things, tie up loose ends. It's a lot to get used to.

OR, a safehouse fix-it, because they deserve it.

Word Count: 6576

AO3 link in notes because tumblr hates me

It feels like they only actually start to breathe once they’re on the train. They’re frazzled, cobbled together, and wearing the clothes that they’d had stashed at the institute. Their bags are packed with a mess of objects—sweaters, money, two umbrellas, a flashlight, and no tapes. They’re exhausted and the brightening sky outside continues to remind them how long it’s been since they last rested, but at least there are no tapes.

No tape recorders, either. Although the click of the recorder stays in Martin’s head, makes his fingers itch and—

“Martin, there aren’t any in there,” Jon says from beside him, placing a hand on Martin’s arm.

Martin pulls it out of the bag, zipping it up again and sighing. “I know. I know, I just—”

“You just can’t stop thinking about Elias.” Jon meets his eyes. “Yes. I can’t either.”

“He was there. In the panopticon. I mean, I could have killed him. I should have killed him. I wanted to kill him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. And I...I know it was the right choice. But it feels—it feels like a loose end, and I hate it.”

“There are so many loose ends. It’s...terrifying,” Jon says, and his voice shakes on the word. Martin wants to put his arms around him. Then he realises he can, and he does. Jon leans into the embrace. “We’re out, though. That’s good.”

“I still want to kill him.” Martin laughs a little. “Next time we see him, I’m not letting that—that weasel say anything. It’s just: bam bam. Done.”

Jon’s facing away, but Martin feels him smile against his arm. “Yes?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Maybe Daisy and Basira should have taught you how to use a gun.”

“Maybe they were scared of me.”

Jon laughs at that. “They should have been.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t know what’s coming.”

For a while, it’s comfortably silent. The countryside races by, sun now well and fully risen, sky that specific and gorgeous shade of pale blue. Jon shifts slightly in Martin’s arms, and Martin feels a wave of something , something big, wash over him, and he needs to shut his eyes so the tears won’t spill over.

It’s still fresh in his mind. The fog, Peter Lukas, Jon’s face piercing through it all. I’m here. I came for you. I thought you might be lost. And then Jon’s hands cupping Martin’s face, Look at me and tell me what you see. He’d tipped Martin’s head up so their eyes met, and—

So much. The years gone by. Small favors, milk and sugar, hands brushed together over desks. Quiet admiration, adoration, and then love, so much love, pent up and chained and threatening to spill over like a tidal wave.

Martin saw. He understood.

Jon really had liked the tea, the whole time.

Now they’re here, and Martin knows Jon is still afraid, hell, Martin’s afraid, but they’re here, and they’re together and it’s...it’s almost too much. Too much happiness. But it doesn’t feel wrong.

The movement of the train is calming, and Martin finds himself realising how long it’s been since he’s felt something like it. How long had it been since he’d left London? Left the institute, really, other than to go to his apartment? How long has it been since he’s seen actual grass? Then something occurs to him.

“Jon, where are we actually going?”

“Hm? We’re going to Scotland. You bought the tickets.”

“No, yeah I—I know that, but where are we going? What’s in Scotland? You said there was somewhere safe, but you never said what.?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I hadn’t told you. Daisy has a safe house, for when she didn’t want to be tracked down. She has several, but this one’s far away enough. I think. I hope. For the monsters not to reach us.”

“That’s good. Scary, but good.” Martin glances down at his wristwatch. “Shouldn’t Basira have called by now?”

“I don’t know. The attack was bad, I think. We’re just going to have to be patient.”

Martin sighs. “I know. I just...I want to hear what’s going on. I want to know.”

“We will soon. I hope. Right now...I can’t see, but after it clears up, we’ll call in. See it in the news or something.”

“Yeah.”

They sit there for a moment, and then Jon shifts a little, threading their fingers together. “This is good, though,” he says, half muffled by Martin’s arm.

“Yeah. Yeah, it—it is.” And Martin leans his head against Jon’s, letting the rhythm of the train lull him to sleep.

Later that morning, Martin’s phone finally buzzes. It’s eleven or so, and he and Jon are sitting in the station cafe, inhaling cheap ham and cheese sandwiches. It feels like it’s been hours since either of them have eaten. It has been hours since either of them have eaten. Even Jon, who’d made a slightly off-color joke about missing his regular statement diet, seemed happy with it.

The phone’s been sitting on the table, screen up, and Martin picks it up shakily on the first ring.

“Basira—”

“Martin,” she said, by way of greeting.

“Basira, what’s—what’s going on? Are you okay? Is the institute alright, where’s Daisy, what’s happened with the monsters, are you…” he makes himself slow down (Basira waits, and he’s grateful). “Are you okay?”

“I’m safe.”

“Daisy?”

“Yeah, she’s here. She’s not fine, but she’s here.”

“What happened?”

“She went full Hunt. But she’s back now.”

“Okay. That’s—that’s good.”

“I’m glad, because the rest of my news isn’t.”

Basira hangs up, which Martin’s glad of because he’s not sure his hands are steady enough to press the button. He turns to Jon, whose face is grim.

“I take it I don’t need to explain all of that to you.”

“I heard enough,” Jon says, eyes tired.

“At least the Institute is alright. I mean, by our standards.”

“A little monstering isn’t too new, yes. And the police-men getting lost—”

“Bad. But apparently fairly normal for Section 31. Which means they’re not likely to cause a big stink about it.”

“And Daisy…”

“Yeah. I’m glad.”

“I couldn’t really hear, did Basira—did she tell you anything else about her? Anything in more detail?”

“No. She didn’t. She didn’t want to talk about it.” Martin looks at Jon, who shuts his eyes for a moment. “Do you think that’s a bad sign?”

“I think…” Jon sighs. “I don’t know what to think. Do I think it’s good that she came back at all? Yes. It’s miraculous, really. I didn’t think it was even possible, not after going all the way like that. But…” he shakes his head as if ridding himself of the thought. “I don’t know. It’s good.”

“Jon.” Martin says, reaching across the table and tilting Jon’s chin up so he meets his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t cut me off.”

Jon looks at him for a moment, and something behind his eyes breaks. “I’m scared, Martin.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wish I knew what she had to do. To come back. I want to know what I...what I need to do.”

“Hey,” Martin says, taking Jon’s hand in his own. “Hey. I love you, okay? We have time.”

“Yes,” Jon murmurs. Then, as if shaking something off, “yes. Yes, we do.” He raises Martin’s hand, kisses it briefly on the knuckles. Martin still isn’t used to it—this casual onslaught of love. He’s not sure he ever will. “I love you, too, Martin. Thank you.” He smiles, sadly, and Martin does the same.

The safehouse is small, and far enough off the grid that their cab almost misses it. It has a small kitchen, a living room, a balcony, and an office, although Martin can’t fathom what Daisy would use it for. Her interest in policing seemed less focused on the paperwork side and more on the murdering innocents one. Although she’d gotten better, he knows that. He shouldn’t be so harsh. And she did provide them with this house, after all.

The balcony is nice, though Martin’s only seen it briefly. It’s pleasantly cool outside, foggy and wet, but in less of the oppressive London way he’s used to. It’s more refreshing. He doesn’t think about the comparisons to the Lonely—the small town, the rolling mist, the empty countryside mere meters away. He doesn’t. Jon is here, and he doesn’t think about it. Anyway, Martin’s more the type to read in an armchair by the fireplace.

The living room is more like that; it’s sparely furnished, and he’s pretty sure Daisy doesn’t know the definition of a throw blanket, but it has a fireplace and a sofa, as well as a dusty, near-empty bookshelf.

“Shame,” Martin had said when they’d walked in, “I know books are important to your professor aesthetic.”

Jon had scoffed. “My professor aesthetic ?”

“The tired, angry professor thing. Do you not do that on purpose?”

“I absolutely do not have a professor aesthetic. Academia, if anything.”

“You’re not telling me those are two different things.”

“They are!”

“Okay, Jon, I believe you,” in a tone that said he didn’t.

Jon hmphed. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen enough books for this lifetime, anyway,” he’d said, and then he’d gone upstairs to put their bags away.

Martin, meanwhile, made a quick stop in the kitchen. It’s small, sparse, but there’s a large window over the sink that lets just enough sun in for it to be cozy. There’s not much food, no, but they’d stopped at the minimart on the way to get some of the basics.

Of course, that wouldn’t be enough for long. Martin made a mental note to ask Basira to send up some statements.

During the nights, Jon and Martin wake up. Sometimes screaming, sometimes crying. The monsters that can’t follow them through the safehouse doors make it into their dreams, take hold, infest.

Martin will wake up crying, silent, heaving tears, shaking shoulders. He curls in on himself, trying to brush off the fog that clings to and sinks through his skin. Peter Lukas’s voice echoes in his head. Jon pulls him in, turns him around so they’re facing each other, holds Martin’s face in his hands. Takes the whimpers of It was so empty, Jon, I forgot my own name, I forgot your name, Jon, and you couldn’t find me, and holds him in his arms, and Martin feels so, so small.

Jon has nightmares, too. Different, but just as often, just as terrible and monstrous. He’ll wake up crying out, clutching his chest or his neck or his arm. Screaming about doors, winding hallways, fracturing minds and mazes and fingers that cut. Gasping, clawing at his skin, brushing and swatting at it like it’s covered in worms. Sometimes, he’ll wake throwing the blanket off of himself, scrambling to the center of the bed so that he’s as far away from each wall as possible. Martin knows not to touch him, on those nights.

And then, there are the nightmares of the watcher. They both get them, but Jon’s are something else. Waking up clawing at his own eyes as if he wants to gouge them out, gasping and grabbing at Martin and telling him he can’t look at him, can’t open his eyes, because then he’ll know, he’ll know about all of it, he’ll come after them. Martin aches to see him like this, but he averts his eyes, holding Jon’s hands firmly so he stops scratching, rubbing them with his thumbs and going It’s okay, take your time, I’m here, until Jon’s breathing slows and he just cries, silent and shaking sobs.

Most times, they don’t go back to sleep. Not at first. Instead, Martin and Jon sit in bed, huddled against each other, and talk. Anything that will chase off the darkness. They tell each other about their childhoods, about college. They talk about the movies they’ve watched (in Jon’s case, virtually none, and Martin has an ongoing list of those he wants to show him), and the books they’d hated most in high school. Jon tells Martin about being in his high school play (Martin laughs out loud at that, Jon indignant), and Martin tells Jon about the sci-fi novel he was writing for years (Jon insists on reading it, Martin says, steadfastly, that he never will, absolutely not, and no, Jon, that pleading face isn’t going to get you anywhere, as adorable as it is).

On those nights Martin is filled with such a blistering rage he’s not sure how it doesn’t come out, flames licking at his hands and skin. He’s not even sure what it’s directed at.

Well, that’s a lie. He knows what— who did this to them. Who put them here, who warped them and destroyed them both. Plagued them with these fears, these dread powers, so deeply that even now, when they’re safe, they still come after them. And who’s probably sitting now, smug and comfortably in his tower. Martin wants to kill him.

But Jon is here, finally falling asleep in a sweater that’s far too big for him, and Martin finds himself tired too. Maybe, just maybe, they can relax. They’re here now. At least they have that.

The town itself is tiny, but oddly nice. Pleasant. Nice to walk through, like they’re doing now. There’s a certain charm to the squat little houses, to the paths winding in order to fit into the low and rolling hills. Martin likes the city, but he can’t help but fantasize, for a moment, about a life someplace like this. Quiet, serene. Trips to the farmers market every weekend. And highland cows everywhere.

“God, this place is freezing,” Jon grumbles beside him, and Martin looks at him. He’s shivering, arms crossed, and already wearing two sweaters. He’s thin, even more so than usual, and Martin knows why. The distance from the eye, from the statements, is eating at Jon.

Still, he’s allowed to poke fun a little. “How are you cold all the time?”

“Shut up, Martin. Aren’t you supposed to give me your jacket, or something?”

“Tough. I’m cold too,” Martin says, but he really isn’t. If Jon’s always too cold, then Martin’s always too warm. “Fine,” he says in a put-upon voice, shrugging off his hoodie and passing it to Jon, who squirms into it and resumes his shivering.

“How chivalrous of you.”

“It was against my will,” Martin says delicately. They walk for a moment more, looking around, and then he continues. “You can’t say it’s not pretty, though.”

“I guess it is. In a bleak, grey sort of way.”

“Oh, don’t.”

“The cows are nice.”

“They are! And isn’t it nice to have some space? Some peace and quiet?”

Jon smiles, without much humor in it. “That’s very Lonely of you to say.”

“Oh, shut up. Anyway, that’s not possible anymore. I have you.”

There’s a beat where Jon just looks at him, and then he smiles softly. “Yes, I suppose you do.” He reaches for Martin’s hand, threading their fingers together.

Martin flinches. “Jesus, your hands are cold.”

“ Martin, I’m an avatar of the Eye, it’s not exactly time to call me Jesus.”

“That’s not what I—” Martin starts, snickering, when out of nowhere a golden dog the size of a small bear barrels into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Jon yells. Then, “Where did that thing come from?”

Martin laughs in delight as the dog comes running back, sniffing him and letting Martin scratch its ears. “Yeah, good boy. Good boy, you.” Martin looks up for Jon, who’s standing a few feet away with his lip curled. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of dogs. ”

“I’m not—I’m not afraid of them, they’re just so... wet. Slobbery.”

“I have no idea what you—” the dog jumps up at Martin, who is now crouched down on a knee in front of it. Its paws land on his shoulder, and it starts frantically licking at his face. “Okay, I—” Martin sputters, laughing, “I guess I—I get that.” He finally succeeds in pushing the dog off, but it just dances in a circle and over to Jon, sniffing and licking and tail wagging at a hundred miles an hour.

“Oh, no no, I don’t like that, I’m not your friend,” Jon protests, putting his hands up. Then “Oh, god, oh god,” as it jumps around him enthusiastically.

Martin can’t stop laughing, but he claps his hands and the dog turns around, ears perked. When it gets close enough, he leans down to look at the tag hanging from its collar.

“Don’t tell me we’re taking it home, or something,” Jon says.

“No, I just think it would be good to see who the owner is. I mean, what if it’s lost?”

“Then that’s none of our business.”

“I want to bring him back before he gets hit by a car or something. Here, there’s a phone number on the back. It’ll only take a moment.”

“God, curse you and your...humanitarianism.”

It only does take a moment: the owner picks up on the third ring, frantic with worry, and she gives them her address. She’s only five minutes away. She thanks them, explains how her dear had jumped the back fence, rushed off and gotten completely lost. She offers them “tea, or coffee, or anything, money, or something, to thank you for bringing back my baby,” but they politely decline.

“So what, you don’t like animals?” Martin asks as they walk away.

“I don’t know. I mean, I like cats. The Admiral liked me.”

“You know, I’ve heard so much about this Admiral character, and I’m still yet to meet him.”

Jon laughs. “Maybe you can, when we go back to London.” He quiets a little. “If Georgie ever speaks to me again.”

Martin looks at the ground for a moment. Then, “So no chance for a pet?”

He chuckles, once. “Jury’s still out on that one. Not a slobbery dog, at least.”

“But a cat, you’d be up for that.”

“You know, I think that would actually be rather nice.”

Martin nods. “A cat. We could have a cat.” He laughs, and throws his arm around Jon’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

What happens shouldn’t take Martin by surprise, but it does. It’s all so quick.

He’d just finished talking to Basira, had walked back to the cabin. Her words are still ringing in his ears. Police, terrorists, the tunnels. The only good news was Daisy. She was finally recovered enough to talk (although recovered from what, Martin still doesn’t know.) When Martin had called she’d been sleeping, but Martin made Basira promise to call again a couple days later. He’s not even sure if Daisy will want to speak to him, after how he yelled at her. But he wants to know she’s safe, at least.

The package is there, like Basira said it would be. Sitting in the mailbox.

He’s not sure what compels him to glance through the papers. Simple curiosity? Or was something pushing him? Whatever it was, he didn’t intend it to be anything more than a cursory skim, seeing what horrors Basira had so kindly provided.

What he notices first were the tapes, littered amongst the papers. And a tape recorder, which makes Martin’s heart skip a beat. But, well. Jon always seemed more... sated when he recorded the statements, anyway, so maybe that was just Basira being considerate. Good on her for remembering, he supposes. Even if he may or may not want to throw the thing out on the spot.

Then, though, the words, printed across the page of the first statement, right under the heading and name.

Hello, Jon.

Something seizes inside of him, and he flips to the next page, brow furrowing.

There, printed plainly in the professional cursive Martin knows so well. Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.

Martin’s hands go limp, the pages nearly dropping to the ground.

Fuck.

Time feels slow as Martin walks up the stairs, chewing on the inside of his cheek so hard it draws blood. He doesn’t feel it. All he can feel is the paper slowly crinkling under his white-knuckled grip.

Jon is sitting cross-legged in an armchair reading, but he puts the book down and stands as Martin enters the room. “How was she?” he asks, smiling. Then he meets Martin’s eyes, and his face falls. “What happened?” he asks. Then, stronger, “Martin, what happened?”

“I—he—” Martin drops the statements as his tears spill over. Jon rushes forward, reaching out as if to help, and Martin yells. “No, don’t touch—don’t go near them. Please,” he says, voice breaking.

Jon stops in his tracks, but Martin can tell it takes everything in his power to do so. “Martin, what... what did Basira send us?”

Martin bites his lip, trying to hold back more sobs as he shakily gathers up the pages. “It’s not. It’s not Basira, Jon. Elias sent a statement.”

For a second it’s as if Jon’s mouth doesn’t work; he gapes, trying to form words but no sound comes out. “I—I don’t understand, she wouldn’t help him—how did it get in there? Why would he—”

“I don’t know!” Martin cries, finally stuffing them back into their envelope but not standing up again. He’s not sure his legs are strong enough. “I don’t know, but—but there it is, okay, Jonah Magnus, printed right there, no, don’t look, it’s not...it’s not safe. Christ.”

“But how—why now? Why would he—”

“I don’t have the answers for you, okay? I don’t know. I don’t know anything, I just. I don’t understand either.”

Jon’s eyes are wide, and he’s still for a moment. “Elias...Elias sent us a statement.”

Martin sobs again, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop another. “Yeah. Yeah.” Jon starts to sit down, and Martin puts a hand up. “Far away. Please. I don’t...I don’t know what this thing will do. What it’ll do to you.”

“Okay,” Jon says, softly, and moves back, settling down a few meters away from Martin. “Okay.”

For another moment it’s silent, Martin’s shoulders shaking and Jon staring, wide-eyed, at the floor in front of him.

Tentatively, Jon speaks. “Have you...read it?”

“No. No, and I’m not going to. I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Alright. Alright, that’s… that’s okay.” Jon inhales, rubbing his face with his hands. Then, quieter, “What are we going to do, Martin?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

In the end, they lock the statement up. In one of the disturbingly many lockboxes that Daisy keeps, in the back of the closet, on Martin’s side. Martin piles clothes on top of it, and they don’t make him any more comfortable, but at least he can pretend they do. He can’t get Elias’s face out of his head, his smug voice. Every time he thinks about what might have happened if Jon had read the statement, it stops him in his tracks.

If he’s suffering, though, Jon is faring even worse. The hunger, it seems, is finally catching up for real.

“Are you feeling alright?” Martin asks, passing Jon a mug of Earl Gray. Jon’s sitting in bed, blanket over his legs, and he looks pale and tired, but he still smiles up at Martin as he takes the tea. “The night of sleep do you any good?”

“Not really.” He sips. “But thank you. For this.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Martin sits on the bed at Jon’s feet. “How are you feeling, though? Give me details, I want to help.”

Jon laughs ruefully. “I’m not sure you can help with this one, Martin. I mean, outside of—”

“I know, I know, letting you read the statement. Which would be insane.”

“Yes. Yes, it would. I didn’t mean for that to come out so...passive aggressive.” He sighs. “I’m just tired. I mean, I’ve been tired this whole time, ever since we left the institute, but it’s more bone-deep, more... intense. I don’t know how to describe it. But I think having that thing here is making it worse.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

He breathes in, out, before he meets Martin’s eyes. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”

Martin puts a hand on Jon’s leg, then withdraws it, sighing. “Well, if real food will satisfy you in any way, I’m going to start breakfast. Eggs okay with you?”

Jon brightens as if shaking off a weight. “Yes, please.”

“Okay,” Martin says, standing and walking over to the stairs. He stops with his hand on the railing, looking back. “I’m sorry, Jon.”

He smiles a little. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but...I’m sorry.”

“I’m back!” Martin calls, nudging the door open with his hip. His hands are occupied: in one hand he holds his satchel, in the other, he sorts through the contents. “They didn’t have your archaeology documentaries, but I did find one on the Vikings, which I hope will suffice. Also,” with a little laugh, “men in armor is a plus—”

He cuts himself off as he realises he’s talking to no one. The living room is empty. “Jon?” Jon is sick, but he’s not bed-ridden sick. So where is he?

Martin checks the kitchen, but that’s empty, too. Then the balcony. He clenches his fists, urging the rising panic back down. It’s fine. It’s probably fine, he’s just...taking a nap or something. So he goes upstairs to check.

What he finds freezes him in his tracks.

The closet doors are thrown open. Martin’s clothes are strewn across the floor, and Jon is crouched over the lockbox, fingers shaky and scrambling over the lock, turning it and turning it, too fast to even click.

“Oh no, oh no no no no,” Martin cries, and Jon doesn’t look up at him. Martin can see his eyes widen and his hands pick up speed. “Oh, god,” he whimpers, and rushes forward, crouching down and grabbing Jon’s hands. They continue to twitch and thrash, but Martin’s grip is firm. And still, Jon’s eyes stay locked on the box. “Jon, stop, Jon, Jon, wake up, please.” Martin bites his lip and then slaps Jon across the face.

Jon freezes, and then he shakes a little, falling towards Martin. Martin catches him by the shoulders, holds him up, grabs his face. “Jon, is that you?”

Jon grabs Martin’s hands, eyes wild and unfocused. “Martin.”

“Jon. Jon, look at me.”

“Martin…” slowly, Jon’s gaze turns toward the lockbox, and his eyes go wide. “Did I...oh god. Oh god.” He jumps up, scrambles backwards, hands shaking.

Martin stands up, stepping towards Jon, and Jon throws up his hands.

“No, don’t—don’t touch me, I’m not safe, I—”

“Okay, okay, just. Okay.” He stops, hands still up in a keep calm gesture. “ Jon, you’re still you. You didn’t do anything.”

“If you hadn’t shown up, if you hadn’t come home then, then—”

“But I did. I did, alright? You didn’t. Do. Anything."

Jon stares, then nods slowly. “Yes. Yes...I...yes.”

Martin moves forward again, slowly this time so Jon has time to protest, but he doesn’t. He crumples against Martin’s chest when he wraps his arms around him, tears shuddering out. “Shh, shh,” he murmurs, and he just holds him until Jon’s shoulders stop shaking. He pulls back slightly, takes Jon’s face in his hands. “Jon, tell me what happened.”

“Put it away, first. Please. I don’t want to be able to see it,” Jon says into Martin’s shirt.

“Okay.” Martin picks up the lockbox, placing it back on its shelf and shutting the closet doors. He looks at Jon for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs."

They sit down at the little kitchen table, across from each other. Jon is slightly less shaky, and Martin does everything he can to stay not break down, to not let his fear show. “Tell me what happened.”

Jon puts his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know. I didn’t really feel it? I mean, I didn’t feel most of it.”

“Then tell me what you did feel."

Jon’s hands still cover his face, but Martin can see through the cracks that he’s covered his eyes. “I felt this need. This roiling, desperate need—I guess it wasn’t so different from the hunger I’ve felt for the last few days. Distance from the archive, from the statements, and all of that. It’s the same as when I was in America. But this was something stronger, yanking at me like,” he laughs mirthlessly, “like puppet strings, I guess.”

Martin’s brow knits. “Wait, are you saying the Web —”

“No, no, It’s just—just a turn of phrase.” He sighs, then continues. “I don’t actually remember what happened after that. I mean, you saw. But I didn’t actually feel it. It was just darkness, blank until you slapped me.” Softly, he continues. “I wonder if that’s what...I wonder if that’s what it’ll be like when I finally turn.”

“Stop,” Martin says firmly. “Don’t talk like that, I won’t hear of it. You’re not a monster, you’re not.”

There’s a pause, and then Jon simply says “Alright.”

“So, this hunger, your— roiling, desperate need —it can be satisfied with statements? Any statements?”

“I think so. I hope so.”

“So that just means we need to call Basira and have her send some more.”

“Right.”

“Well, we’re going out to town to call her today, anyway, so that works out just fine. Will you...will you be alright? To do that? To go out?”

“I think I will be. I mean, I’m just tired, I’ll be fine.”

“That’s good.”

Jon shuts his eyes. “Martin, the statement. Are we...what are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” Martin asks, although he knows the question’s unnecessary.

“Are we going to read it? What, confront Elias? What are we going to do?”

“I really don’t know, Jon. I really don’t.” Martin fidgets, picking at his cuticles. “Can we figure this out later? It’s nearly time to go.”

“Fine.”

“I still can’t believe your favorite ice cream flavor is rum raisin. ” They’re at the ice cream shop in town. It’s tiny, the inside only a counter and one table, so Martin and Jon are sitting at one of the picnic tables outside. It’s overcast and downright gloomy, but at least the breeze is nice. Not exactly ice cream weather, but it’s fine.

“What’s wrong with rum raisin?”

“You’re thirty-one, not eighty-five. Where’s the fun?”

“It’s better than strawberry. I don’t know how you stand that brand of sickly-sweet.”

“Oh, you go so hard on the brooding, bitter old man thing—”

“Excuse me!”

“I’m Jonathan Sims, I hate dogs, I tell my coworkers I’m ten years older than I am and I eat rum raisin ice cream .”

“Okay, now this is offensive,” Jon scoffs, and Martin laughs. “Anyway, you know how much I love being mocked—”

“Of course.”

“...but wasn’t Basira supposed to call us? I thought that was the only reason we came here.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t love this place.” Martin glances down at his watch. “But you’re right. She did say she would call at three, and it’s—” The phone starts to ring in his hand. “Oh, there it is! Right on schedule, I guess."

He picks up the phone. “Basira, hi!”

But it’s not Basira’s voice that answers. “Hi, Martin.”

“Daisy!” he cries joyfully.

Jon’s jaw drops, and he makes grabbing gestures at the phone.

“Oh, hush, I’ll just put it on speaker.” He does. “Daisy, hi! How are you, how have you been?”

“I’ve been...good. I’m alright. Healing.”

Jon leans forward in his seat. “How are you and Basira?”

“We’re good. Better than good, really. I mean, we’re together, so we’re happy.”

Jon looks at Martin, eyebrows raised and clearly holding back a smile. Together? the expression says.

Martin shrugs. “Wait, like together together?”

“Yeah, together together,” Daisy says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

Martin claps a hand to his mouth, smiling like an idiot.

“That’s great,” Jon says, “I mean, congratulations!”

“Finally!” Martin interjects.

“Let me guess, they’re being ridiculous about it,” Basira says, faint.

Daisy laughs. “Not so much, actually.”

“We’re just happy for you, it’s been a long time coming,” Martin says, grinning.

He can hear the smile on Daisy’s voice as she says “Right.”

There’s a short silence, and then Martin speaks. “Daisy, I'm so sorry, for—for everything I said. Telling you to, to bugger off, and all. It was—”

“It was the Lonely,” Daisy says. “Thank you for apologising, but it’s okay. You’re not the only one who’s done shitty things because of a power.”

“Y—yeah,” Martin says softly.

“Daisy, about that. Are you okay?” Jon asks. “I mean, I’m sorry, that’s a stupid question. I just mean...the Hunt is dangerous, it’s one of the most drastic transformations. And from what Basira said...did it leave any scars?”

“Yeah, it left some pretty massive ones, actually.”

Martin and Jon exchange a worried glance. “...like?” Martin asks tentatively.

Daisy sighs, but not in a frustrated way. “Basira had to shoot my legs. Can’t hunt if you can’t walk, right?” She laughs mirthlessly. “It’s alright, though. I mean, I’m in a wheelchair, but it’s not the worst thing that could have happened. At least I’m free of it.”

“Oh, Daisy.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says gravely.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Will it...heal?” Martin asks.

“I’m not actually sure. The doctors said there was some chance, but it’s not likely.”

“Basira really did a number on you,” Jon says.

“Yeah, she really went all out.”

“You’re welcome,” comes Basira’s voice again, then Daisy’s laugh.

“It’s good, though. At least it saved me.”

Jon speaks up again. “Do you have any news? Anything we should hear?”

“Here, I’ll give you to Basira. I don’t know anything.” There are sounds of shuffling, and then muffled words.

“Right,” Basira says, no longer muffled. She goes on to tell them about the institute—the official police declarations, the disappearances, the scattered sightings of monsters around London. Martin asks Basira to bring them some more statements, preferably in person this time. On the whole, Martin’s feeling rather relieved when he puts the phone down, so he’s surprised to see sadness on Jon’s face.

“Jon, are you alright?”

“Yes...yes, I am.” Jon says, but it’s slow and the expression doesn’t leave.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“No, really I—here, I’ll pay, I’ll tell you in a moment.”

“O—okay,” Martin says, a little taken aback. He clears away their paper cups as Jon pays at the counter, and then they walk out and onto the walking path, etched out along the road.

For a few minutes, they walk in silence, Martin glancing nervously at Jon, who’s clearly deep in some sort of brooding. He’s not sure if he should speak.

Eventually, he gets tired of waiting. “Jon, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Jon makes a frustrated face. “I don’t—”

“Because if you’re angry at me or something, there’s something called communication —”

“No, no, I’m not mad at you, Martin. I just didn’t know how to...how to put it into words.”

“Then try.”

Jon furrows his brow for a moment as if trying to form the words. “It’s just...They were so happy. They seemed so happy. And, I don’t know, maybe I’m jealous. Maybe I want that for us. I want us to be happy. To be free of all of this...this bullshit.”

“...Oh.”

“I know it’s...immature, or whatever. But I just want to be done. With Elias, with all of that. Done with the Institute, the panopticon, the end of the fucking world. And I know it’s not possible, but—”

And suddenly, Martin’s sure. He’s not sure why it took him so long.

“Let’s burn it.”

Jon looks at Martin, eyes wide. “What?”

“The statement. I want to burn it. F—fuck Elias, fuck the statements, fuck all of it,” he cries. Jon doesn’t answer for a moment, though, and Martin’s confidence faulters. “I mean, as long as you’re—”

“No, no,” Jon says, nodding quickly, “I’m actually kind of with you on that. Burn it, yes.”

“Yeah? Yeah!”

“The tape recorders, the tapes, all of it.”

“I mean, what were we waiting for, really? Basira’s bringing more statements next week. And it’s not like you were gonna have that one anyway.”

Jon laughs. “You know, I really don’t know.”

They walk faster after that.

When they get home, it’s already darkening, and it’s cold enough that they probably would have set up a fire anyway. Martin places the wood in the fireplace and Jon pulls out his lighter, prodding at the hearth until the fire is burning merrily.

Jon looks up. “So, time?”

Martin nods, inexplicably nervous. “Yeah. Probably best if I do the actual burning. Wouldn’t want you touching the paper itself, tempt your roiling, intense need, or whatever."

“You’re probably right.”

So Martin goes upstairs, retrieves the lockbox, takes the paper out. Statement of Jonah Magnus, regarding the Archivist. “Good riddance,” Martin says, staring at it for a moment, and then he folds the paper in half and heads back down.

“Any last words?” Martin asks, as he holds the paper near the flame.

“Not really. I mean, thanks a lot, Elias, for being a flaccid dick in a suit. But that goes without saying.”

Martin laughs. “Yeah, gotta echo the sentiment on that one.” Then, “Ooh!” as the statement catches, and then he drops it and the whole thing goes up.

From the bed, Jon cries out.

Martin’s bolt upright, rushing over in a second. “What was that? What happened?”

Jon shakes his head. “No, don’t worry, it’s…” he unbuttons his shirt slowly, and there’s a slightly smoldering spot above his heart. It’s in the shape of an eye.

“What’s that, a brand? An imprint, or something? Please tell me that’s not bad news, Elias watching us out of your chest or something.”

“No, I—” Jon smiles in what seems like relief, “I don’t think it is. Just another scar for the collection. Nothing more.”

“Oh,” Martin says, letting out a breath. “Well. Very classy, I think.”

“I’m sure that was the intention,” Jon replies, and Martin laughs, putting an arm around him as they watch the final bit of charred paper turn to ash.

“Do you think this will do it? Free us?”

Jon tilts his head, considering his answer. “I can’t be quite sure. I think a lot of Elias— Jonah went into that statement. And destroying it…”

“...destroyed Elias?” Martin asks hopefully.

Jon smiles. “Unfortunately no. But I do think it weakened him. And that very well might be enough.

“Okay.” Martin laughs, shaky but real. “Okay.”

They end up sitting in the living room until the flame burns out completely, cold and dead in the fireplace. The sky outside gets dark, wind howling, but it’s all distant, safe, Martin feels still for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. And Jon has fallen asleep in his arms.

Martin could get used to this. And it seems like he’ll be given the chance to after all.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #fluff #angst #fix-it #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonathan sims x martin blackwood #my writing #hurt/comfort #safehouse #daisy tonner #basira hussain #daisira #i rly meant for this to be fluffier than it is #but i wrote it in a blind post tma binge frenzy so this is the trainwreck yall get

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madroxed · 4 years

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the order (season two) thoughts.

so chotoranii asked me for my thoughts on the order season two. of which there are many. posting them here rather than in a reply so tumblr doesn’t fuck up the ‘keep reading’ break.

SO MANY SPOILERS AHEAD, OBVIOUSLY.

OK FOLKS, LET’S DO THIS. SORRY ABOUT THE WORD COUNT.

the good, the bad, and the incomprehensible.

ok SO. overall i thought this season was so much better than season one, especially in terms of production and acting.

i should start by saying, the biggest twist of this season? ME LIKING JACK AS A BLOND. i’ve been dragging that hair for months and i end up digging it? i’m so mad at myself.

ANYWAY the first three episodes? flawless! beautiful! amazing! they honestly took everything i could have listed as wanting and put it onscreen. jack trying out for cheer squad and having to stay on cheer squad to keep up the act? them finding each other almost immediately? the jokes about orgies? jack taking the knights seriously and holding on to his anger over the memory wipe? lilith and nicole? nicole in general? RANDALL AND HAMISH FAKE DATING (however briefly, seriously, i will be writing fic where they have to keep that up because i am betrayed that it was never brought up again and if you think i didn’t throw my laptop across the bed so i could run around screaming you’d be wrong)? A MAGIC HEIST?

honestly, all perfect.

............then the season started to go downhill. don’t get me wrong, there were still some excellent parts, but they were hindered by two things:

the plot jumping about too much to be comprehensible.

the fact that we the viewers are supposed to believe that randall carpio and hamish duke would not tear the world apart for lilith bathory immediately.

the first is forgivable; the first season’s plot was a simple enough device that meant it dragged a little at times. this season they seemed to not want to fall into that trap again, but in doing so threw something so big in that they needed far too much exposition because they didn’t have enough time to show it (a trait they fell into in a lot of ways, we’ll get back to that). SHOW, DON’T TELL, FOLKS. that being said, i really liked salvadore as a character, and the idea of a group of people striving to make magic accessible to all was a cool moral quandary plot.

the second is unforgivable to me, and led to the majority of my issues with the season. i understand the knights becoming members of the order (cool concept), i understand them struggling with conflicting loyalties because of it, but what i don’t understand is the fact that randall spent the majority of the season saying “let’s get lilith back!” only to back down at the first push back, and hamish was the push back. because......the order had other problems. IN WHAT UNIVERSE DO THE KNIGHTS OF SAINT CHRISTOPHER NOT PUT EACH OTHER FIRST AND SAY FUCK EVERYONE ELSE?

(jack i understand, if only because we saw so much of it last season. his loyalties are kinda flaky. i do understand his loyalty to vera; not only did she play a huge part in taking down edward last season, but the mind link thing and learning all her pain would have stuck with him. he loves a cause, that boy. also hey ho! jack was so much more likeable this season! we love to see it.)

also i just really missed lilith.

(thank fuck for nicole never giving up.)

the amount of callbacks to season one were fantastic. they didn’t just move on and leave it be, they referenced basically everyone, and seeing professor clarke and kyle again was a nice touch just to tie things together. there also being discussions about jack’s pete related trauma was great and necessary.

ok, so alyssa. i take back my post about how great it would be for her to be the villain. this was so much better. her trauma in the wake of both season one and then accidentally killing someone leading to her feeling so conflicted and lost and alone? her magic malfunctioning when it’s all she feels she has? we’ve always known she was ambitious, but to see her face straight on the idea that she may be left completely powerless and no one really listening or trying to help her except a hive mind that’s also hurting her? o u c h.

we saw this season that the real problem with the order is its motto of ‘hurry up and wait’. ‘we’ll save lilith.....just do all these other things first!’ ‘we’ll get alyssa’s magic back......there’s just more important things right now!’ it’s all so easy to see how that could frustrate someone so much they can’t take it anymore.

i’m so pleased i loved alyssa so much this season. i desperately wanted to and i’m glad they gave me that. i just felt so much for her. she just wanted to not feel so alone and so helpless and so scared that she was going to pick the wrong side again. it was beautiful.

this also meant alyssa/jack was better this season. having got the insta-love out the way last season (ugh), this season they were able to actually look at how that would play out if you took ramifications into consideration. all the problems i had with them last season were vocalised onscreen, and this new unstable thing left in its place was far more appealing to watch. they were messy and bad for each other and they knew it, but that didn’t stop them loving each other.

also: “if we get out of this, can i take you to the mall? because i really hate your jean jacket. and your hair.”

in regards to the other relationships:

lilith and nicole were adorable for the limited amount of time we got them onscreen. the slow crush to nervous dating was beautiful, and seeing lilith struggle with what getting her memories back meant in regards to that was great. we all know i thought the lilith/randall of last season was rushed, so having lilith torn over hurting one of the most important people in her life and following these feelings for someone new was lovely. IF WE GET A SEASON THREE I BETTER GET SO MUCH MORE OF THEM.

here’s the thing, putting aside lilith/nicole for a moment: the order can’t write good relationships (*with one major caveat).

hear me out.

in season one it was insta-love. jack and alyssa meet and suddenly defending alyssa is the only thing that matters to jack. it....wasn’t good. randall and lilith were thrown together with very little build up and we were supposed to roll with it.

this season we had both hamish/vera and randall/gabrielle. i would like to say that theoretically i am here for both of these. but.

hamish/vera occurred off screen. oh, sure, we had a couple scenes of them staring at each other over drinks, but that was all we got until late into the season. we were told that hamish and vera were a thing by randall when he was winding hamish up. we didn’t see it for ourselves. again, this show’s habit of telling not showing is a problem.

hamish and vera could make sense. two leaders of opposing factions having sort of hate, begrudging respect sex? i see it. from there, you can show us how it would become something more.

the show doesn’t.

we’re told they’re together. we’re told hamish is forsaking his knightly duties in favour of vera. we’re told by hamish that he’s drunk the order koolaid,

and all of this is supposed to culminate in us believing that hamish duke - tundra, leader of the knights of saint christopher, the most cunning of the wolves - would push aside everything else because he just believes that much in vera stone? to the point that he would all but abandon lilith and degrade his relationship with randall to randall being the annoying sidekick?

i woke up at two a.m. to write a note on my phone that says: ‘the greatest tragedy of the order season two is hamish duke’s character assassination.’ and i stand by that.

besides lilith’s absence for almost the whole season, it’s the thing i’m most mad about. i love hamish so much and to one-dimensionalise him in favour of a ship is...............shoddy work honestly.

so like i said. HAMISH/VERA COULD HAVE BEEN GOOD, BUT FOR FUCKSAKE SHOW, YOU HAVE TO ACTUALLY DEVELOP THIS SHIT.

randall/gabrielle was better developed. by which i mean we actually saw them interacting on screen. we got to see them begrudgingly working together, we saw him learn more about her, we heard them talk about her need to fit in somewhere. when they made the joke about being bffs? good stuff. would i like them to slowburn this shit? yes please. have them become best friends and then have those feelings be something else. i would really like that. the show just needs to.......slow down. not immediately see a single character and need to throw them into a relationship with the nearest person.

gabrielle was great this season. by which i mean, she was gabrielle, and we love some consistent characterisation. i think it’s so true to everything we know about her that she’d want to inject herself into the knights’ world; she wants to be part of the in-crowd, and right now that’s them. she’s also supremely jealous of alyssa because, to her, it seemed like alyssa had the best of both worlds. so, yes, her wanting to be around the knights and that developing into her begrudgingly liking them makes a lot of sense to me.

so, my caveat.

the relationship the order knows how to write? the knights. hamish, randall, lilith, and jack. that dynamic saved season one from being a total mess. that dynamic thrived in the early episodes of this season. IT’S JUST THAT GOOD. i said once that if the order just became greek (2007) but with werewolves i’d be happy, and the first three episodes really gave me that.

THE KNIGHTS ARE EACH OTHER’S SOULMATES, ASK ME HOW.

is this an excuse for me to complain that they gave us a hint of hamish/randall and then cruelly snatched it away and i’m still mad about it? YOU BETCHA.

is this also my way of saying there wasn’t nearly enough jack/randall this season? YOU BETCHA.

removing lilith from the equation (I’M STILL SO MAD) and then having hamish pull away from randall because..........who the fuck knows, was just a recipe for disaster.

clearly lilith is the glue that holds these idiots together.

so, vera. katherine isabelle still just steals every scene she’s in. i love her. i love vera’s characterisation. i love that she’s shamelessly ambitious but also wants the order to succeed and the world not to end. i love that she can be cold and cruel and still have such soft spots for both jack and alyssa. i love that she can be vulnerable and angry about it. i just........think vera’s pretty fucking great, tbh.

i still don’t understand why the knights - after their infiltration revenge plans go tits up - decide to just go full on order. like??????? hamish and jack barely even questioning anything???? randall must have spent most of this season feeling so alone.

that being said, when jack said to nicole and randall that he knew what they needed to get lilith back and the conversation pretty much went:

jack: you’re okay betraying the order?

nicole: for lilith, anything.

randall: i’d literally betray the order for a cookie, haven’t you been listening?

we love to see it.

OH, HEY GUYS, REMEMBER WHEN IAN ZIERING AND JASON PRIESTLEY WERE MEMBERS OF THE ORDER AND JASON PRIESTLEY BECAME GRAND MAGUS FOR A HOT SECOND???? that was written solely for me. i do not know who this show thinks its audience is, but it understands me to my core.

so...............i have zero clue where the show intends to go from here. i just need alyssa to be ok and i hope - like his friend randall - jack is willing to kill whoever the hell he has to to make that happen. (we stan randall straight up murdering someone to get lilith back and making sure nicole remains innocent and safe tbh.)

SO TL;DR: the early episodes gave me life. the show declined from there, but i still enjoyed it a lot. the order is at its best when the knights are a team, i loved alyssa’s story this season, and i have no clue what to expect from next season (if we get one). werewolf alyssa? villain jack, perhaps? we’ll see!

THIS POST PROBABLY SEEMS TOO NEGATIVE BUT HI! I STILL LOVED THIS SEASON A LOT AND I LOVE MY KIDS WITH MY WHOLE HEART AND IF YOU READ ALL A MILLION WORDS OF THIS THEN I LOVE YOU TOO.

also if anyone has any hamish/randall prompts i’ll be hanging out over here crying into my hands for the next few weeks. FAKE DATING. how dare they?!

#the order #the order spoilers #the order netflix #THIS IS.....TOO LONG I'M SORRY #i love this show so much????#but it's also a mess?????#basically my brand lbh

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nexmakesquestionablefics · 4 years

Text

Dash wants to romance Phantom and he should do it - Chapter 1

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Tags: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, Kwan, Fluff, ship, Danny is an idiot, hurt/comfort, angst, dating, secret exposed

Summary: Dash had a big secret: he was a hopeless romantic. Taking that a step further, he was hugely pansexual. Put those together and you had a big idiot that had lots of love to give, but nobody to spoil with it. What else could he do but fall hard and fast for Amity Park's hero, Danny Phantom?

you can read it on Ao3 here, along with several new chapters, but otherwise i figured i should get this tumblr running properly and i figured why not do it with a ship fic

Dash Baxter had a terrible, horrid, mind-blowing secret; probably the biggest secret in all of history. The truth is, he was a giant sap. Furthermore, and perhaps worse, he was an absolutely hopeless romantic.

He watched the romance channel every night, eyes glued to the screen with his chihuahua, Pooky, sat in his lap, gazing with the same rapt attention as his owner. It was his favorite time of the day, when he could go home and be himself… well, sort of. His parents would definitely skin him alive if they knew about what he fantasized about (cruises in the moonlight… wide-blown confessions… desperate tears as his lover is begged to stay…). They probably wouldn’t appreciate his sexuality much, either, which he’d figured was pan at this point.

And here was where the main problem cropped up: when Dash fell for someone, he fell hard. Snap his nose, shatter his skull, brain oozing out the ears hard. To make matters worse, he just happened to be attracted to the one man literally all of Amity Park was after as well- Danny Phantom.

Everybody else just wanted Phantom because he was a hero, Dash was sure, but there was so much more to the teenage hero than just the heroics (even though they were fucking amazing!). For instance, the way he grinned after finally beating down a stubborn ghost and it seemed to light up the sky. How he went cackling into a battle at his own horrible jokes. How his hair fluffed cutely when he slowed down to land. How his eyes literally shone with determination and bravery.

Suffice to say, Dash could go on for hours.

Phantom was strong where Dash was weak, brave where he cowered, and beautiful where he was rough.

It was honestly pathetic how badly Dash swooned for the ghost.

---

Dash slid in beside Kwan at their usual table; they were the first ones there, and simultaneously glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot.

“So I got the pictures,” Kwan mumbled, sliding them over face down like some sort of shady dealer.

“Thanks, Kwan. I knew I could count on you.” Dash palmed the photos and tried to discreetly look at them under the table. Looking back at him were several snapshots of Danny Phantom in the middle of battle; most stunning was the one where Phantom was inches from fucking roundhouse kicking some ghost in the face.

“I thought you’d like them,” Kwan said, a little too smug, having seemingly have seen some reaction in Dash’s face, “they were in super high demand when I got there.” He sighed, looking over Dash’s shoulder at the pictures, “Phantom’s just so damn flexible… ”

“Imagine all the spider-man kisses…” he mumbled without thinking, but Kwan just sighed in sympathy.

Kwan was the absolute one and only person he’d ever told about the whole romance thing. Dash had been worried he’d laugh, but he was his best friend. They’d both been sat in front of the tv watching the romance channel within the hour. He couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

Finally, the other A-listers began to join them, so Dash tucked the pictures away and settled into the routine of gossip.

---

It’d been a long, long , wait, chocked full of flustered planning, working part time jobs, and reciting, but Dash finally had everything ready to confess.

To fucking confess!

“I’m gonna throw up,” he told Kwan through the bouquet of flowers he was clutching to his chest.

“No you’re not,” he reassured, “you know why?”

“Why…?”

“Because Danny Phantom is waiting for you!”

“...No he’s not? I haven’t told him yet.” Was this some kind of metaphor? He didn’t get metaphors.

“Huh? No, I meant, uh…” Kwan visibly struggled to salvage the conversation, “I meant kinda figuratively? Like… he’s waiting but he just doesn’t know it yet?”

Dash scratched his head, “I guess…?”

“...Whatever,” Kwan flapped his hands at him, shooing him toward the door, “go get in position and I’ll track him down, okay?”

“Alright. Good luck out there!”

“You too, Baxter,” Kwan called, waving optimistically over his shoulder.

Dash took a deep breath in, then out, both ways trembling, before finally turning and jogging off to the confession site.

---

If everything went right, the plan would go as following: Kwan tracks Phantom down after a fight and asks him- begs, if necessary, that the ghost come to Amity Park’s gardens for ‘something important.’ There was a trail of roses at the entrance, leading deeper in until it came to the secluded spot that Dash sat waiting on one of the fancy benches, wearing one of his Dad’s fancy jackets and his best clothes. Dash would stand, give him, the bouquet, and then his speech… and ask him out.

In theory it was fine… but now that he was here, it felt like he was gonna pass out. He went too far, didn’t he? The trail of roses was too much- way too sappy. And what the hell kind of bouquet was he even holding!? He’d tried to use flower meanings to his advantage, but now it looked like all the colors were clashing. There was way too much. It was actually kind of heavy- or was that just his nerves? Dash lowered the bouquet to rest in his lap and wiped his forehead with his forearm.

Oh god, was he going to sweat through his clothes? Was he about to confess to his only love while there were growing sweat stains under his pits? It was about time to call this off; it was fine, they could reschedule, Phantom popped up several times a day and-

Dash flinched as his phone buzzed in his pocket, alerting him to a text from Kwan. ‘Hes coming ur way!!!’ it read.

Dash scrambled to make himself look halfway decent, sitting ramrod straight on the edge of the bench. A second later he smacked himself and leaned back, trying to look confident. He threw his arm over the back of the bench, but second guessed it after remembering the sweat.

Just be polite, he snapped at himself, before settling back with his hands in his lap, bouquet leaning against his chest.

He liked it when the characters in his shows were nervous to confess, but absolutely hated it for himself. How did they deal with this?

Dash waited for about another five excruciating minutes before he caught a bit of movement in the corner of his eye and saw Phantom coming around the corner- he hadn’t even heard him coming, oh god.

The A-lister stood, quickly smoothing down his clothes. Phantom seemed to have been collecting the roses as he went, now holding a small handful of them close to his chest. There also seemed to be a nasty looking bruise on his neck, just barely visible thanks to the high neckline of his suit. When the ghost finally looked up and saw Dash having an internal crisis a ways away, his eyes went comically wide (actually that was really cute…).

“Phant-om,” he began, his voice cracking on the very first fucking word, “uh, first of all, I’m really, really happy you could meet me here. Second…” Dash trailed off; his nerves were frying his memory. He saw Phantom take a breath to speak and panicked, quickly thrusting the bouquet toward him. “This is for you!”

The ghost fumbled it for a second, what with already holding the other flowers he’d picked up along the way. The bouquet looked huge in his hands; it also looked prettier in his hands. Less child’s-hateful-crayon-art and more graceful-rainbow-over-the-sea.

Dash tried to take a steadying breath and spoke softly, “so I know you definitely have a lot of admirers… like a lot a lot, but… I decided that I couldn’t live without- that I couldn’t go on without at least trying. ” He felt a hot wash of shame at the slip up, but he couldn’t stop now, “I-I see you fight and you make me brave, I see you smile and my whole world lights up. You’re just- you’re beautiful and amazing and- and…” Dash finally made eye contact, remembering that confidence in these situations was important, when his mind blanked. Oh god- oh god- Phantom was blushing a green glow. That was kinda weird- actually nevermind- that was fucking adorable.

Phantom glanced away and laughed nervously, “Dash, I uh-”

“W-wait, let me finish,” he cut in quickly, in a bit of a panic, “please,” tacked unhelpfully onto the end. Phantom shifted awkwardly, but nodded; Dash would have missed the way he held the flowers a little closer to him, if not for the subtle crinkle of their wrapping.

He huffed and forced himself to continue, “the- the point is! ...It’s…” the script was a mess at this point… “it’s that you mean more to me than you’ll ever know and… I want you to go out with me. Please. I-...” he nodded with finality, blushing madly. He’d botched that so bad. He screwed up, hadn’t he? Oh god… Kwan was gonna be so disappointed in him…

Phantom took a deep breath and shifted the bouquet to one arm so he could rub the back of his neck. “...I, uh,” he began after awhile, “I really, really appreciate this, but,” Dash’s heart sunk in his chest- more realistically, actually, it hit the bottom of his stomach with a loud clatter. Phantom must’ve heard it, because he quickly went on, “a relationship with me of all would get really complicated really fast. I, uh, I don’t wanna pin that on anybody. Especially not you. Dash. So…”

Dash blinked stupidly for a second. “...You mean the ghost fighting? I know- I know! A-and I’m prepared for that! I thought it all out- you could go out and fight ghosts, no problem, but when you’re done, I’d be waiting for you back at home!”

Phantom gave him an odd look, “...home?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dash fumbled, suddenly embarrassed again, “I figured you lived in the ghost zone or something and that you could just come to my place whenever we wanted to hang. ...That! Also! Solves the whole thing about you being super famous and all, y’know?” Dash began gesturing wildly, his nerves getting the better of him at this point, “you don’t even have to tell anybody we’re dating! I know everybody’d be super pissed if you did. This whole thing can just be our little secret!”

The ghost winced before he could cover it up, “about secrets… there’s a lot I can’t tell you. About myself. About ghosts. It’s just… Dash. You’re- you’re a great guy and all, but… a relationship with me would seriously be a bad move.” Dash was about to cut in, but Phantom talked over him, “can’t you do better than a secretive, dead guy, who fights other dead guys for a living? Your still in highschool. Uh, aren’t you? So- so at the very least, go and like… be with somebody that can actually contribute to the relationship.” He shrugged awkwardly, “or, I dunno, marry some rich dude and ride out life with money instead. Whatever suits you.”

Dash saw his chance and snagged it with both hands, “ you suit me,” he blurted.

Phantom gave him a look and Dash would’ve fainted right then and there if it weren’t for the telling blush that came with it (those piercing green eyes could give grown men heart attacks, honestly).

“That’s not- ugh. Dash-” Phantom huffed in frustration.

“No! Okay, listen up, Danny Phantom,” the ghost seemed to twitch at the use of his full name, “I think you’re fucking amazing! I’ve been a huge fan since you just started out saving people. And the day that we both got shrunk super puny and had to run around a lot- that was really really tiring, but not the point! That was the best day I ever had!” Was he shaking? He was definitely shaking; he was practically yelling at Amity Park’s hero to date him. “There’s nobody else that I would even dream of being with other than you! I- I’ve…

“I’ve fantasized this moment a thousand times.” Dash swallowed thickly and deflated. “And I just… it would make me so happy if you agreed to go out with me.”

Phantom looked terribly conflicted- maybe even a little dazed. The longer Dash looked at him, the more he started to notice how banged up he seemed. Oh, right; Kwan had pulled him right out of a fight, without even giving him a chance to go rest up. Dash was swamped with a sudden guilt- Phantom had dragged himself way out here to listen to his blabbering while all Dash had been worried about were sweat stains and color coordination… oh god.

Quickly, Dash began patting his pockets, some of his nerves finally falling away now that he realized how bad he’d fucked up. He pulled out an antiseptic spray and bandages before offering them to Phantom. “I’m so, so sorry- I didn’t think you’d actually be, like, hurt hurt…”

“What? It’s fine, it happens all the time, uh…” the ghost awkwardly set the bouquet on the bench (very gently…) and took both items.

Shit, the ghost. “Wait, do ghosts even use that stuff? Dammit, I’m sorry…!”

“Again, it’s fine, chill. Just… why do you carry these around with you?”

“...Uhhh-”

“Duh, nevermind, most haunted city in America. My bad.” Phantom devolved into mumbling as he tore off a bit of bandages and reached below his neckline to press it, presumably, to his collar bone. When he pulled back, the bandages were dripping with green. He tore off more and repeated the process.

Dash watched for a moment before the guilt finally overtook and any hope of romance steadily fell away. He shuffled to the bench and sat down with a long sigh. “You can keep those. And… and you don’t have to answer all my earlier stuff. Not now- and… well, I guess not ever. ...Though I doubt I’ll stop coming to your fights.”

Phantom watched him warily for a second before floating to the bench and sitting down as well, leaving the bouquet to rest between them.

This is where there would be some beautiful parallel drawn between love and their relationship or some such, but Dash sucked at poetry and he wasn’t anywhere near smart enough to make metaphors on his own. So he just looked around the garden while Phantom dealt with the wound.

“...I didn’t take you for the romantic type…” the ghost mumbled after awhile.

Dash found his face flushing slightly, “uh, yeah… it’s sorta my secret.”

“I didn’t take you for being, what, gay? Either.”

“I’m pansexual,” Dash watch the collection of wadded bandages glow a collective, soft green, “and yeah… I guess that’s my other secret. I’m part of the A-list at school- they’re the best of the best. Cream of the crop. We’re the cool kids. The best- ”

“I get it,” Phantom huffed, but didn’t seem upset at all.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. But yeah, I’d definitely get kicked out of the A-list if they knew about this stuff… well, my best friend knows, but he’s cool.”

Phantom hummed and they fell into silence. Dash felt like he should be apologizing, but he didn’t want to ruin this more than he already had. It’d just be a broken record anyway. He sort of wanted to go home and try to forget this ever happened (a lost cause), but he didn’t want to just ditch Phantom after all he’d suddenly sprung on the wounded ghost. That would just be downright unforgivable. Could he walk Phantom home? Was that possible?

Just when he was working up the courage to ask, Phantom spoke first, “what would you even want out of dating me?”

Dash blinked owlishly at him, though the ghost wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Uh, duh! You? I already said all that stuff about you being super cool and heroic and awesome and pretty, didn’t I?” Phantom seemed to choke a little at that last one; he’d have to remember that. “I just wanna get to know you and, like, do stuff with you and… y’know! Dating stuff! We could watch movies together late at night, we could kissss? We could, uh, share food, share stories, just… date! We could make each other happy and all that.”

Phantom seemed to visibly flounder for a long moment, having set aside the bandages in favor of resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. A scowl slowly stretched across his face until, finally, he groaned and leaned back into the bench. “...Y’know what,” he mumbled.

“What,” Dash parroted, even though he was pretty sure that was rhetorical. For some reason, his heart was pounding again.

“...I’ll date you,” Phantom mumbled, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

A grin broke across Dash’s face, but he had to slap a hand across it before he squealed in front of his crush like an idiot.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fic #phic #dash/danny #danny/dash #danny fenton #dash baxter #took me literal months just to make my first actual post #not a great start but it's fine

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friendandphoe · 3 years

Text

/sliding back onto tumblr like what up new year new name new pronouns new movie house

anyway hi y’all it’s ya boy Phoenix back at it again with the donexa brainrot pls enjoy @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There are days — plenty of them — when the distant disbelief doesn't quite fade from Alexa's eyes. She stares around their apartment like she doesn't recognize the furniture she'd spent agonizing hours choosing, her photo prints they'd painstakingly hung in straight rows with their award certificates neatly organized into a binder on the bookshelf, the four to seven stained coffee cups that perpetually clutter her work desk. She's withdrawn and snappy and eager to start a fight at any given opportunity, and the only touch she'll accept from him is rough and unyielding. She taunts him the whole way through, goading him to tug her sharper, press harder, use her until he's satisfied without sparing her a second thought. "Because then I know I'm at least good for something," she'd explained the morning after that first rough night, crunching away on a dry handful of Fruit Loops like it didn't break his heart to hear how little she thinks of herself.

But there are days — more and more frequent now, and Donnie's so fucking grateful for it — when she gives him an earbud to pass judgement on her latest editing project; when she wraps her arms around his waist and clings to him while he's cooking dinner; when he can hear her laughing from the couch because she's FaceTiming David and the motherfucker is funny. Sometimes she hangs out in the hallway for an extra twenty minutes, chatting with the neighbors about mindless shit even though she's got groceries that need to be put away. She's been loudly declaring that their next bathroom cannot and will not be so goddamn small, which makes his heart sing in all the best ways possible because it means she's thinking of the future — of their future, together. He'll come back from work to find her in the middle of a pile of their friends because she felt lonely. And there are days when she stays in bed an extra hour and tugs him close to her any time he makes a move like he wants to get out, whispering into his collarbone that she's not okay, can he please just hold her a little while longer. He picks up his ringing cell phone and it'll be Jaimey on the other end, asking how they've been and what's new. Alexa holds his hand the whole time they're grocery shopping these days, even when she's scolding him for sneaking in snacks they both hate just because he knows it'll get a rise out of her. And more often than not now, he's allowed to love her softly, sweetly, reverently, the way he wants to — the way she deserves.

"Lacey says it's never going to fully go away," Alexa had told him in the dairy aisle during a late-night grocery run, staring hard at the Greek yogurt like it held the secrets to finally uprooting her deep-seated assumption that one day, they're all going to get tired of her and leave her behind like everyone else in her life did.

He'd kissed her cheek, let her flinch away from him, because that had been a bad day and he'd known even then it was less about him and more about the poisonous fog in his girlfriend's head. "Yeah, well, neither am I." He'd promised, because even when she'd turned to snap that he doesn't fucking know that, don't say stupid shit, he knew he was in it for the long haul.

"Hey," he says now, almost two full years later, and drops a kiss on her bare shoulder.

She shifts ever so slightly underneath him, exhausted and nearly cross-eyed from everything he's done to her, because tonight was a soft, sad night and he wasn't about to focus on anything besides making sure she knew she was loved and wanted, but she still manages the tiniest of smiles for him. "Hey."

Fuck, he can feel his own smile, stupidly fond, stretching across his cheeks, wide enough to hurt in the best possible way. He is so soft for this girl. "I love you so much."

And her cheeks flush dark again, but she hums in acknowledgement and tugs gently on a loc. "I love you," she says, and starts crying.

"Oh, babe —" he says, grin fading, and he reaches down to cup her face, kiss away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just — it's hard to believe this is real sometimes, you know?" She traces over the lines she'd scratched into his shoulders, and he says nothing because yeah, fuck, he knows. This long in the game, he knows. "I didn't ever think I would get this."

He kisses the scars twisting across her cheek. "Hey, love, you got it."

And despite everything, despite the slow, sweet night and the progress she'd made even since they first met, Alexa makes a low, frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "Yeah, but — how long."

It's not a question, it never is, but Donnie has a solution. "You wanna List, baby?"

"Fuck. Maybe."

"Okay." He rolls onto his back, pulls her up on top of him so they're pressed chest-to-chest, and trails his fingers down her spine, grounding her as best he can. "Your last project went really well. Your clients loved it. They recommended you to a bunch of their friends and now you're booked all the way through for the next six months. And they sent you a really nice bonus."

She sniffs. "Yeah, they did."

He snakes his hands under her thighs and pulls her up a little higher. She automatically tucks her head under his chin, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head in response. "Lacey said you've been managing your spirals really well. And Jaimey called earlier, wants us to come over for dinner next week."

She hums, tracing circles into his bicep.

Donnie drops his voice to a low rumble. "Toby misses you. She asked me to find out your schedule so she can take you for breakfast soon. David texted you this morning to tell you about some cool gardens he thinks you'll like. Mags is making us mugs with dicks etched on them because they know you think it's funny."

"It is funny," Alexa insists, too exhausted to properly argue, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Yeah, but the point is, you're stuck with us," Donnie says, and blows a raspberry against her hairline to make her laugh. "You've got a whole crew who loves you so fucking much, baby, you're never getting rid of us. Remember how we all fell apart when you flew out to Colorado for that wedding shoot?"

Alexa presses a grin into his collarbone. "I was gone for a week. Less."

"Yeah, and we need you." He scratches at the shaved side of her head with one hand, wrapping the other securely around her waist. "You're funny and smart and a complete enabler as long as you think it won't kill us. You've punched people in the face for messing up Ethan's pronouns. With your bad hand. You're the first person Lark tells anything to. Fox does literally anything you ask him to, I think you're second only to Mags for him. My parents absolutely adore you, they ask about you all the time."

She groans fondly, smacking his shoulder with no real strength behind it, and when she speaks, her voice is much lighter. "Okay, okay, I get it."

But Donnie keeps going, because apparently he's not quite done yet: "I wanna marry you."

Alexa goes completely still on his chest, matching his frozen heartbeat, then peels herself up to stare him right in the eye. "What?"

He closes his eyes, throws his head back in the pillows, and groans deeply. Fuck, okay, it's not like they've never talked about the future before, he's always talked like they're staying together forever and she's been sending him house listings for the past three months, but — "I wasn't supposed to say that. Forget I said anything for the next month."

She smacks him on the shoulder again, and this time it stings a little. "Next month! Donnie!"

"That night market you like opens next month!" He argues, gently shoving at her head. She goes without protest, staring at him the whole time. "Don't look at me right now, oh my god."

"Next month." She repeats, and that might be a shocked smile ghosting her lips. "You want me to wait a whole month?"

"Yeah? I have a plan, I have a whole speech, it's gonna be cute as shit!" Or it would be, if he wasn't weak and incapable of keeping any kind of secret in the wake of Alexa's sad face. "Stop making me talk about it!"

No regerts, says the tattoo on his hip. Maybe some regerts.

"Tell me everything." Alexa breathes, and she's definitely grinning now.

Donnie, meanwhile, is scowling. "Absolutely not. I'm not — I put so much effort into this, I'm not — fuck outta here with your puppy-dog-eye bullshit, you're not getting anything out of me."

"I'll ask David," she threatens, making no effort to move. He doesn't know where her phone is right now, and she doesn't even have her prosthetic on, but he tugs her back down against his chest anyway. "I bet you made a whole group chat to plan it all out."

He raises his eyes to the ceiling. "The fuck I didn't," he says, because it's technically true, but he had absolutely considered it, and he kind of hates that she knows him well enough to guess that. "I cannot believe you're razzing me about this. I'm returning the ring tomorrow morning."

She jolts up and smacks him on the shoulder again. "You have a ring!"

"Oh my god, shut up," he groans, but there's no heat behind it. "What, what's with that face?"

Because Alexa's brow has furrowed over her eyes, and there's a peculiar mix of confusion and concern pressing her lips thin. "I don't — I don't know if I can wear a ring." She says uncertainly, looking at where her left hand is resting on his chest.

"You've got enough of the finger left for rings to go," Donnie points out, because obviously he's thought about this. "And if you can't, or don't want to, you could just wear it on your middle finger, I don't care. But —" because she's opened her mouth to say something. "You like the symbolism of the ring finger, so I did get a chain to go with the ring just in case, 'cause I know you think wedding rings on a necklace is cute. And it would work, so."

She stares at him for a moment, then covers her face, and for the second time tonight his heartbeat stutters, because, fuck, maybe they're out of sync on this one, maybe he's been reading her wrong, maybe it's not time yet or she doesn't want to or never wants to. But she only scrubs at her newly-teary eyes and smiles shy and fragile at him. "You — you really want to." She whispers, and Donnie remembers Truth or Dare on New Year's Eve back in college so fuckin' clearly.

It'd be nice, she'd said, tiny and hollow, resigned to the idea that it was never going to happen. If someone loved me like that.

He breathes deep and forces himself to hold her gaze, trying desperately not to show how nervous he is. "I — fuck, Aleja, I wanna marry you so fucking bad. You're — you're my best friend, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you make me so stupid in all the best possible ways, I'm —" and he's dipping dangerously close to just reciting his whole damn speech to her right now, but Alexa's shining in the dark, lips curling ever-so-slightly as she looks at him, and fuck him, he's so soft for this girl. He stops, makes sure he's not about to burst into tears, then says: "I'm so fucking in love with you. Of course I want to marry you. If — if you want to."

She collapses back into the crook of his neck, and he pretends not to notice the way she's trembling. "I do," she says, so softly that he would have missed it if her mouth hadn't been right up against his shoulder.

Something in his chest bursts. "Yeah?" He asks, breathless, and he can feel her smiling.

"Yeah." And she twines their left hands together, five against three. "As if I'd say no."

He chokes out a relieved chuckle, squeezing her hand. "You could do better." He admits, dipping his tone just enough that it could be a joke, if they both want it to be one.

But Alexa doesn't rise to the bait, and he loves her. "No I couldn't. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, too."

And yeah, objectively he knows he's been good for her, but hearing it out loud never fails to make him all mushy. "I'm gonna marry the shit outta you, I can't wait," he murmurs into her hair.

"I mean, we can just make it official now," Alexa says innocently, and Donnie's fond smile immediately drops back to a scowl.

"But my plans," he whines, drawing it out just to make her laugh, and she does, which is great, but it doesn't deter her from pushing herself back up to look him in the eye again.

"I can't wait for the plan," she says sincerely, cupping his face in her palm. "I'm not saying get rid of the plan. I'm saying, technically, you already asked and I already said yes." And because she can tell by the look on his face that he's not fully convinced yet, she adds: "I've got three big project deadlines coming up in the next couple weeks anyway, I'm going to immediately forget everything you tell me."

He snorts. "No you won't."

"No I won't." She agrees, giggling. "But consider that the love of my life just told me he wants to marry me, then told me he wants me to wait a whole month, and I am very impatient."

Donnie pokes her on the tip of her nose. "You're so lucky you're cute. Get off me for a second, I'm gonna Beyoncé you real quick."

She snorts. "Bitched about your plan for so long and then you crumble anyway," she mutters, but she obligingly rolls off him and lets him scramble to the closet and fish the little velvet box out of the left half of Alexa's newest pair of sneakers.

"You're not keeping it," he warns, making his way back over to their bed. "This is, like. Mini proposal. Trial run. Beta testing."

She wrinkles her nose at him. "Put your dick away, then."

He just wiggles at her and flops hard back into bed, only avoiding crashing into her because she laughs, cries, "Donnie!" and throws herself back. It's hard to say who reaches for the other first, but she's got him in a headlock in the blink of an eye and he's pinching her hips and thighs because she banned him from retaliation licking her seven months ago. "Ow, ow, knock it off," she grumbles, but she's still giggling when she shoves him into the pillows. "You're so stupid, I can't believe I have to marry you."

"Haven't properly asked yet," he says cheerily. "You can say no."

"No, fuck off, I'm gonna." Is the immediate answer, and he pulls her down into the pillows next to him, blowing one last raspberry right on her cheek for good measure. "Ugh, nevermind, get out of my house."

"My twelve-step plan to seduce Fox into running away with me," he jokes, and opens the box.

"Oh," Alexa breathes, eyes wide in the dark, and Donnie's never felt more accomplished in his life. "Oh, Don—"

"Good choice?" He asks, just to preen a little bit, and she makes a noise that's just as much a laugh as it is a sob.

"Yes, oh my god, can I—" and she takes the box, bringing it up closer to her face to examine the teardrop-cut opal, the two crystals on either side, the matching band that nestles under the wide end of the gem, fanning out with more crystals in a pleasing semi-circle. "Oh, it's so thin!"

He'd purposely kept the bands plain and small, just to be extra sure the ring would actually fit on the little nub of Alexa's finger, and hearing her pleased coo does something good to the anxious knot in his chest. "Do you want to try it on?"

She looks up at him through watery lashes, a smirk teasing across her lips. "Sure that won't mess with your plan?"

He sticks his tongue out at her, just to make her giggle. "Trial run. Beta test. File name final-project-one. I can go get it fixed for the actual thing if it doesn't fit you."

Reader, it fits perfectly.

"Fuck yes, I am the king of the universe!" Donnie crows triumphantly, lifting one pointed leg towards the ceiling in victory. "Can't say shit to me for the rest of the week, babe."

"Wasn't planning on it," Alexa laughs, admiring the glittering gems on her finger. "Oh, I really love it." She says, suddenly choked, and Donnie rolls over to gather her up in his arms. "We're gonna get married."

He kisses the side of her head. "Yeah," he murmurs, trying (and failing) to stomp down his own tears. "Yeah, we are."

Alexa tucks herself into his chest and says: "Good luck trying to get the ring back, fucker."

"What — no, wait, my plan—" and they dissolve, wrestling and giggling like giddy little kids.

(The next month looks like this:

Donnie will manage to steal the ring back when Alexa's washing her hair a few days later. He will hide it on the top shelf of their kitchen pantry, where Alexa's five-foot-two ass will not be able to see it, let alone reach it. Alexa will grumble for thirteen hours before succumbing to the stress of her aforementioned projects. Life will continue as normal for another thirty-seven days; Donnie will go to work, to rehearsals and costume fittings and performances, and come home to Alexa hunched over her desk with her ninth coffee cup in her hands. He will drag her away from the screen whenever he will think she needs a break. They will go on walks in the park, on coffee shop dates, back to bed to both sleep together and just sleep. Their friends will flit in and out of their apartment like normal; Mags and Toby will stop by for brunch and dick mugs, David will stay the night whenever Donnie and Ethan are going to get stuck at the theater, Lark will call with reminders to eat and drink and offers to drop off leftover food. Donnie will take Alexa to her favorite night market four separate times once it opens up, and he's going to laugh and tease any time she will stare at him suspiciously. They'll take a day off to drive out to Jaimey and Juno's house for dinner, and Jaimey and Alexa will be laughing and teasing each other like normal siblings, and Juno and Donnie will exchange fond, relieved glances over their wine glasses. They're going to make plans to have dinner again next month.

Donnie's last show will close the day before Alexa will submit her final project; he will invite the whole crew over to their apartment for movies, food, and games in celebration. At nine-fourteen, Alexa will excitedly yell that it's snowing, can they please go outside so she can take some pictures, and everyone will tease her for immediately jumping into a new project but no one will say no. Donnie will slip the ring into his pocket just before they all head out and will follow his family through the streets as they will follow Alexa's meandering, aesthetically-driven path. He will stop and pose every time Alexa tells him to, and will goof off with Mags and David whenever the lens isn't pointed at any of them. He will try and sometimes succeed in making Lark laugh when she's trying to be a good model and will sign shit with Toby whenever Fox's back is turned. He will gently steer the group towards the night market, and luckily for him Alexa will light up the minute she will realize how close they are, and she's going to drag them all the rest of the way there.

The night market this year is really going to be an artisan's paradise; all the vendors will pull out their biggest and best, and the group will ooh and aah over all the hand-worked leather bags, the delicate wire jewelry, the carefully curated antiques, the second hand books and clothes. Ethan will pick up a couple of scented candles and Fox will buy them all hot cocoa and cookies from one of the bakery stalls, then will grumble that it's just a bribe to get them all to stop being so loud and obnoxious in public, Jesus fucking Christ. This, of course, will not work, and will only fuel their obnoxiousness further. No one will notice because the night market has always been like this, and there will be plenty of kids and teenagers and adults alike running around fulfilling their own personal agendas of chaos. Alexa will take an excellent video of Fox getting pulled into the tangled mess of Lark, David, and Mags, each with cookie crumbs on their faces, loudly whining that he doesn't love them anymore and what'll they do about the kids and the mortgage.

At ten-forty-six, Alexa will be forced to hand her camera off to Ethan, who will insist she needs to be in the photos too, and it will spur a whole new onslaught of goofing off. The snow is going to come down a little heavier, promising a proper snowstorm once it really gets going, but they're going to stay out at late as possible before it starts getting bad because they'll be right in the crossroads of all of Alexa's favorite times and weathers, and after the month she will have had, they won't be able to say no to her.

At eleven-o-three, Alexa will start wincing at every other step. Donnie will lift her up around her waist to pull her away from the group; she'll laugh and cackle and shriek at him, but will go happily enough when he's going to lead her towards the gazebo. It'll be beautifully decked out in hanging lights and evergreen garlands, and it'll provide a welcome break from both the snow and the walking. They'll sit on one of the benches inside and watch their friends goofing off outside; Alexa will brush snow from the top of Donnie's hair, and he'll tease her about some small comment she will have made a few minutes before. They'll shove at each other in a mock-fight for a minute or two before dissolving into shrieking, sobbing laughter, and Alexa will grin wide and bright at him and murmur that she loves him so much.

At eleven-eleven, Donnie will slide off the bench and onto one knee. He'll tell her that he loves her, that he feels so lucky to get to know her and love her, that he wants to make her smile like this for the rest of their lives. Alexa will be stunned for about two seconds because she really will have forgotten about his plan, and they'll both laugh and cry (only a little, this time) and he'll slip the opal ring back where it belongs on her finger. They'll kiss, soft and sweet, and their friends will surround the gazebo almost immediately, summoned by the PDA. The hooting and catcalling will startle them out of their reverie, and they'll laugh their way out of the gazebo and back out into the strengthening snowfall. They'll all decide it's probably a good idea to head back, especially considering the market will have been closing up for the past ten minutes, and they'll take the more direct route back to Donnie and Alexa's apartment in an unspoken agreement of a sleepover. Fox will swing Alexa up on his back when she'll stumble over a snowbank, and Donnie will teasingly beg Ethan to carry him, too.

David will be the first one to notice the ring, back at the apartment when he and Alexa will be gathering up blankets and pillows to pad out their fort in the living room, and he'll yell out "when the hell" loud enough that the rest of the group will come running. The rest of the night will be a blur of yelled congratulations and a few tears shed here and there, and exhaustion will overtake them one by one, starting with Ethan around twelve-twenty.

Donnie will fall asleep sometime past one-thirty. His head will be cushioned in Alexa's lap, his legs flung out over David's, and Fox's rumbling snores will echo somewhere to his left. The last thing he'll see before fully falling asleep will be the sparkling glint of the ring on Alexa's finger as she signs to Toby, and the last thing he'll hear is Alexa murmuring into Jaimey's voicemail that she's "getting married, Jay."

And he’ll be so, so fuckin’ soft for his girl.)

#i forgot how terrible tumblr was about copy paste fuck #anyway if ive got a potty mouth so does everyone else i dont make the rules #hi i missed movie house and my movie house crew so fuckin much how have yall been doing #im not dead ive just been having gender crises and making friends and storylines on tiktok and also being depressed #anyway 2020 was a fuckin shitshow and sometimes you need to write your favorite ocs getting engaged to cure your sadness #ive had movie house brainrot so fuckin bad lately ive been writing s o m u c h #ive had Many Thoughts And Ideas And Revamps #as hinted at above #so i. might start posting here again. movie house only zone #anyway big smorch for yall it is now 1 am and im going tf to bED #movie house #alejandra ochoa #alexa darmond #donnie frasier #ahbonjour #museumlad #creativeskull #writing #shut up phoenix #((except not actually shut up i will infodump and you will enjoy it >:[ ))

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edorazzi · 5 years

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IDK if you watched the Chat Blanc episode, but if you did, what are your thoughts?

I don’t usually post about my reactions to episodes these days (unless it’s in snarky comic form), but a few people have asked me about this one so why not!

This got super long, so I’ll throw it under a cut (and apologies for anyone on mobile if Tumblr dot hell still opens readmores automatically).

I personally thought Chat Blanc was an underwhelming episode. Everyone knows how much I adore Adrien so of course I loved all his scenes, and I thought the actual Chat Blanc content was really exciting and well-done (when we were actually THERE), but the rest of the episode was pretty meh for me. For whatever it’s worth I watched this episode in French, so I don’t know if the English dub changed anything.

When it comes down to it I’ve got two big gripes: logical and emotional. My logical complaint is that the plot just DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. I respect that the rules of time travel are very loose in fiction and every work has its own take, but the episode’s “whatever happened today changes the future” basis absolutely doesn’t work when there’s been no interference from outside the timestream. Are they telling me Marinette has to follow a particular set of actions for the rest of time in order for the past to match up with the future, and every time she puts a foot wrong on this invisible path Bunnix will show up to berate her? It’s ridiculous. If Bunnix exists in the future then that path has already been written, so anything Marinette does in the present day she would have done anyway. It doesn’t work and I’m kind of amazed the writers thought it made enough sense to put in at all, let alone hinge the entire plot on. This has to be a Bunnix problem because both her episodes have been full of scrambled logic like this, and it’s really making me not enjoy her.

(I also don’t understand why Bunnix just did NOTHING even when she found out what the cause of the whole mess was. Why did she sit around waiting for Ladybug to defeat Chat Blanc when she could have just gone back to five minutes before Ladybug jumped through Adrien’s window and told her not to do it? I know she was gradually losing limbs to the altered timestream and stuff but she didn’t even try! There were easy fixes in this plot which no one took and that’s so frustrating!)

My emotional complaint might not be shared with everyone, but I was left feeling really irritated that the entire storyline was based on a problem created for this specific episode, which was then retconned into never happening. Adrien has a lot of emotional issues and it’s not been lost on me that Ladybug is starting to treat him pretty badly lately (the way she behaved in Reflekdoll was APPALLING, and I don’t understand people who say Adrien was a brat in Syren because I feel he was completely justified in demanding some respect and proper communication from his PARTNER), so it rubs me wrong that his akumatization - which is a VERY big deal! - was the result of this mangled “oH bUt WhAt iF gAbRiEl rUiNeD tHe LoVe SqUaRe AnD wAs EvEn MoRe eViL LaTer” concept instead of actually addressing the unfair way Ladybug’s been treating Chat Noir this season on top of everything else the poor guy is going through.

Having Adrien bottle up his problems the way we know he does only to explode in such a drastic and dangerous way, like in the Christmas special which resulted in him running away and nearly destroying the town tree in an act of rage and spite, is SUCH an interesting route to follow for something like Chat Blanc. I don’t want it to be about some half-assed nothing-matters-in-the-end-anyway-lol love square BS laced with a big middle finger to anyone who’s been hoping for an identity reveal sometime this century. It’s just a sign they’re planning to hold on to this formula until the end of time itself, and I don’t know about anyone else but that’s going to make any future identity teases REALLY underwhelming (or terrifying, since now we know that APPARENTLY identity reveals result in the moon exploding all life being wiped out. Tread carefully, Marinette).

And comparing this to the Christmas special reminds me how horribly out of character Gabriel was! Like oh my god, who was this man?! Xmas Gabe was out of his mind with worry when Adrien went missing (and grateful enough for his safe return to let all the plebs into his home for dinner), and in several other episodes we’ve seen that Adrien’s wellbeing is his real weak spot, particularly when he’s suspected he might be Chat Noir (Jackady is a great example of both). Yet I’m expected to believe he’d ruin his son’s happy relationship for the sake of an akuma, then just go full maniacal villain in the event of discovering Chat Noir’s identity and try to physically fight him right after revealing Emilie instead of appealing to him on an emotional level? Hell no! That’s stupid and boring and nothing like the complex antagonist we’ve come to know over three seasons, and considering that’s what the akumatization hinged on that’s really disappointing.

(Also Nathalie is a snake, but I don’t feel I know enough about her character to know if she’d rat Adrien out or not. She’s definitely hopelessly devoted to Gabe but I like to THINK she wouldn’t.)

I would definitely have preferred a much more lowkey episode focusing on Chat getting akumatized because of something Ladybug says or does, because she’s (canonly!) become complacent and isn’t treating him very well as a partner. Something which explores all his (canon!) insecurities and his (canon!) tendency to bottle up his emotions and not bother anyone. It could have been a great starting point for the pair of them to confront their issues and start fixing their relationship and getting back to that wonderful Season 1 dynamic! And this was none of those things. Nothing changed or progressed and nobody learned anything. :/

There were parts I liked though! As I said before I loved all the Chat Blanc scenes which I thought were really powerful, and Ladybug’s reaction was nice; being so gentle and near-tearfully sympathetic until Chat Blanc forced her to defend herself. I also adored the final scene where - to Chat, who has no idea about all the time travel stuff - it seems like Ladybug called him out exclusively to cuddle. I’m a sucker for that kind of platonic affection and it’s a huge improvement on their uncertain relationship in recent episodes! But that’s about it. I’ve heard this was supposed to be the finale at one point but got pushed back, and oh my god, can you imagine?! I haven’t even watched the finale yet (I wanted to keep my viewing in some kind of chronological order, not that that means ANYTHING with this show) but it cannot be more of a disappointment than this would have been. Extremely hard yikes.

Anyway, I could keep going but I think I’ve put more effort into this than the writing team did with the episode. This was a MESS.

#IF PAPILLON TRIED TO AKUMATIZE FELIX HE SIMPLY WOULDN'T LET HIM; RIP TO ADRIEN BUT HE'S DIFFERENT #yellowmagicalgirl #josie talks about things #ml spoilers #does this still count as spoilery? i'll tag it anyway because who knows #i'm curious about why so many people have asked for my opinion on this episode specifically #is it because it was Like That or because it's the most recent one to ask me about which isn't the Felix episode lmao #(which i still haven't seen yet so please don't spoil me! i'm getting to it tomorrow though)#BUT ANYWAY YEAH THIS WAS..... AN EPISODE; CERTAINLY #miraculous ladybug

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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We’ve arrived at day four, everyone! Today, the admin team would like to take a moment to appreciate one another. Running a group for two years comes with many moments of excitement and joy. It’s incredible to see the plot make leaps and bound forwards, and watch characters that first began in our heads flourish into the player’s own on the dash. It also, admittedly, comes with its challenges; challenges we embrace with enthusiasm as a team, relying on one another and encouraging one another when life gets demanding.

For a DiVerona admin history lesson — Rosey and Jen first opened the group together in August 2018, preparing diligently to launch DiVerona and bring it to Tumblr after a few years of hiatus. Minnie acted as an invisible admin beginning August 2018, offering advice when requested, and came on as an official admin in MAY, 2019. Julie joined our team as the graphics admin in JULY, 2019 and ushered in a beautiful era and graphics revamp for Act II. Last, but certainly not least, Rogue was welcomed to the admin team in APRIL, 2020 to create stunning, heart-wrenching characters and continue building on the momentum of the plot.

Below, you will find a little love letter each admin wrote for one another. For this particular day, we will not be requiring any activity from our members. Feel free to take a break! If you’d like to show admin appreciation, you are free to do so, but we are not expecting it and hope you do not feel pressured to do so.

Thank you all for a wonderful two years of being admins of an incredible group like DiVerona!

JEN

My fire sign soulmate, my BITCH. As an admin, you bring aLL of the Montague spirit and heart and fire, and it shows in how passionate you are when guiding DiVerona’s story and development. Your creativity? Your flair for drama that inspires the most game-changing plot drops and the most iconic line in this group’s history? I mean, who else could have come up with infant king? For me, Jen, you embody the creative and collaborative spirit of DiVerona, and I treasure the fun you bring to the group and to the team. On a personal level, you have shown up for me time and time again. For that, I am so, so thankful for you. Your honesty is invaluable to me, whether you’re telling me I’m being impulsive or need to calm the hell down. You’re the sense of humor when we need it most, the ride-or-die who both starts adventures and cleans up the messes after, and my dear friend. — MINNIE

I’ve never met someone as passionate as you. You stick to your guns the whole way down and there’s something so deeply admirable in that -- you take such great pride in the things you do and how hard you work and what you bring to the table both as a writer and as an admin. We have exactly the same sense of humor and I love sending you memes and text posts through Discord at like, four in the morning, and seeing a reply from you when I wake up. It’s like taking a shot of orange juice right after rolling out of bed. Wakes me right up! You’re dedicated to the end, even when you’ve struggled, and I think that spokes both to your character and who you are as a friend. You’re like a sister to me in the sense I feel like we see right through each other, and I couldn’t be happier to know someone like you and get to work with you, even on opposite sides of the world. Our calls together are one of my favorite things to do -- we just click. <3 -- JULIE

Getting closer to you, Jen, has been one of my favorite parts of coming online as an admin. I have always admired you, I’ve always loved writing with you, but being your friend is one of the most rewarding things in the world. You have such fierce passion for things, all this burning intensity inside of you and an unflinching way of confronting the world that leaves me in absolute awe. The way you can always see around the corner to what a character needs (rather than what they want or what they might say) gives you such a great ability to build masterful plots and expand our world. Our shared weird insomnia has led to so many absolutely insightful, ridiculous, very hazy conversations, and I am shocked the team has put up with us for this long, but also more glad than anything in the world. Every word you write is precious to me, in character or out, and I’m going to save all of them forever so I can drag you within an inch of your life at ANY moment. Like a clingy little barnacle. I treasure both the experience of working creatively with you and of getting absolutely nothing done with you, and I love you with all my heart!! — ROGUE

to my idiot jen, sometimes i really can’t believe how we found each other again. i truly believe that it was no less than fate (and my utter disregard for any sense of self-preservation) that we would come into each other’s lives right when we did. i have never really questioned why or thought too much on how - because truly i cant really recall a moment where i didn’t know everything about you. there are so many things that i love about you: your tuna sandwiches and food pictures, our really really extensive aus, sharing with me every little frightening piece of your heart, forcing vulnerability and honesty and unconditional LOVE and being so very patient with me...over the past two years there has been so much that i’ve learned about you and still so much that there is still left to learn and love. i adore you to the moon and back you idiot. - ROSEY

JULIE

Hopefully you're not cringing too hard over this Very Formal Approach that I'm taking but trust me, if I could throw a meme in here somewhere I WOULD. Anyway, ever since you came on board, you've been nothing but a blessing to the team, and I mean that in every sense of the word. Your graphics and aesthetic vision for the group have inspired us in amazing ways, and beyond that you've lifted the team up with your pragmatic sense of judgement and gentle sensitivity to things. You really represent both sides of the same coin, dude, like… IT BLOWS MY MIND. I'm so happy to be sharing this anniversary with you, and I'm so proud of you and how far you've come ever since I met you, not just when it comes to the growth of your incredible talents but also when it comes to your writing and your maturity and pretty much everything about you. Thank you for being part of this amazing journey with us. I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else. — JEN

Goosie, I really think you’re the closest thing to a renaissance woman I’ve met, not just in ability but also in who you are. Our entire admin team is pretty creative and original, but you are I think the true artist among us! And while your graphics are truly godlike and unlike anything I’ve ever seen in the RPC before, it’s in your writing I see it most. You’re the most versatile member on the admin team, Goosie, and I think you ground us in so many ways. Not just in doing major graphic makeovers or writing the single most iconic plot drop of DIVerona, but also with your kindness, compassion, intuition and self-awareness. I really would feel a little lost without you, Goosie - not only as an admin, but as a person! Every time you speak, I want to listen; every time you create anything, I want to frame it in a museum. I love you to fucking BITS, and I am genuinely so proud to call you buddy. (I thought about using friend instead, but buddy felt more accurate for us…) — MINNIE

Where would I begin? How can I even write a note when I feel like everything I do and every act I take is part of how much I love you, because it’s like, an entirely indelible part of me? Julie, you’re one of the most talented people in the world. Literally. Your writing is so piercing, so emotionally intelligent and brave and just vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen. Your graphics and art have such a passion to them; I think I love them because they’re beautiful, but I know I love them because I see little parts of you in them that delight me every time. I would crawl across broken glass to be a part of anything you do; I feel so lucky that I’m someone who often gets to see your works in progress, the messy edges of things, the half-finished projects. You bring such warmth to the team and such a grounded, different perspective; there have been so many times where we would entirely miss things if you hadn’t pointed them out when we were blind. You are our cornerstone, the one who anchors and glues us all together in so many ways, and I want to bask in that warm glow of your sunlight forever. — ROGUE

to my dearest julie, i wish i could just put a cody ko meme here but i am ABSTAINING EVEN THOUGH I FEEL LIKE YOU KNOW WHICH CODY KO MEME I WOULD PUT HERE. whenever i think about the times that i dragged you back into my life...like there are so many things in life i thank god i did but keeping you in it EVEN WHEN YOU TRIED TO ESCAPE MY CLUTCHES - that is number 1. having late night conversations with you about literally everything and anything makes my heart feel so full. you have been so much to me and trying to put it into words is really really difficult because none of them feel like they’re ever going to be enough. i love you for so many reasons: your humility, your determination to be there whenever, every single video and podcast you send me, your ability to listen and make people feel heard. you are special and if we are to take on this world i thank god i get to take it on with you. i love you. -- ROSEY

MINNIE

We complete each other and THAT'S JUST THE TEA. I admit, I can be a little over the top and just Too Much sometimes, but you always get me, and it's something that I appreciate more than I can put into words. You're the rock of this team, Minnie, and even though it's a pretty lame way of saying it, it feels right. I truly don't know where the team would be without you, but I know it wouldn't be anywhere near where it is now. You have a way of holding us together, of keeping us steady when we're weighed down or doubtful, with your kind heart, endless calm and unconditional support. I honestly don't know what to thank you for because it feels like there's way too many things and I wouldn't even know where to begin… but thank you for being here and being at our side through everything. I'm so proud of you and the amazing, one of a kind person that you are, and I wouldn't wanna share such a special moment with anyone else. — JEN

When it comes down to it, I think the best word to describe you would be a powerhouse. I’ve never met a woman in my life who works quite as fucking hard as you do -- and if not harder, then smarter, y’know? This past year I’ve spent getting to know you more and more, slowly wheedling you into opening up (motherfucker! We are Known in this house!) and sharing bits and pieces of myself, I’ve come to admire you just for who you are as a person. I’ve learned so much from you in standing my ground and not letting the wind blow me over. You’re funny and witty and sharp as a knife when it comes to your style of prose, and your love not just for Maeve and Paola but for the group shine through everything you do. You’ve held us all together like glue when we needed some extra assistance and let us know when we needed to pick things up, too. You’re open and honest with your feelings and I value that so much about you, knowing I can come to you and lay the cards down and ask your opinion on things and you’ll give it to me straight. I’ve never really had someone “at my back” in the sense of friendship, but oh man, Minnie, you make me feel safe, and I think you’ll know how much that means when I say it. -- JULIE

Oh, no, I’ve already been so embarrassing about how much I love you Minnie!! I suppose it’s only right I do it on main as well. I genuinely feel like I haven’t had another friend in my life who balances with me so well. When we’re united and on our peak shit, we complete each other, shoring up the places where we’re both insecure, making us both feel safer with each other nearby. I’ve written some of my favorite dynamics in RP with you, here at DV, and I don’t think I’d have grown half so much in my outside life or my rp life without you there to talk to. You are also the absolute rock of this team, to steal Jen’s words. When we’re all freaking out and afraid to act or worried about getting stuff wrong, you cut through everyone’s bullshit and get right to the heart of the matter. Your direct and straightforward way of speaking and of loving is a force for good in the world and on the team, and you are also maybe one of the funniest people alive, or at least in my acquaintance. I love your laugh, I love how open you are with your heart when you’re with us, I love you so very much. I want to write with you and talk to you for as long as you let me. — ROGUE

to twin-flame minnie, i wish you could see my face as i type this because this amount of vulnerability is making me like...ew. but minnie your soul resonates with me so much - never would i have ever thought in the time that we’ve known each other (it really did start with a conversation about glitter and then somehow just expanded from there and tbh i am not at all surprised) that i would bare myself to you as much as i have and felt completely and totally understood without having to say things in so many words. i cannot wait for the day when i can sweep you into my arms in a great big hug and i probably will cry when i do because i love you so much. there are too many things to love about you: from your signature giggle, to your ability to take on the world, to your conscientious growth as a person...you give me so much hope. and i don’t think it’s necessary to say anything more than that. i love you. -- ROSEY

ROGUE

When you first joined, you fit into the team so naturally, Rogue, it honestly felt as though you had always been a part of it. I remember being SHOOK AS FUCK at all the incredible things that you were doing in NO TIME, like, right from the start, you crafted the most amazing bios, offered the most rich and intriguing input for the plot, and helped us when it comes addressing issues and concerns in a way that made it all so much easier to tackle over time. Not to mention your sunny presence and the unconditional support that you offer, which never fail to brighten everything when we hit a bump in the road or things get a little tough. It's amazing to consider all that you've achieved and all the ways you've uplifted the team despite being with us for the least amount of time. In my eyes, you've always been with us, and I'm SO fucking proud of you and happy to be sharing all of this with you. Thank you for being a part of this team, and a part of this journey with me. — JEN

Maybe it’s a little cheesy to say, but I think the universe meant for us to meet, and having you on the team with us is a gift. We all mesh together so well and you pull things up out of nowhere on the fly, whether it be individual character plot development or actually writing The Most Iconic Plot Drop Of All Time(TM) and letting me tack on a little flourish at the end. You’re like... the cheese to my cracker, the whipped cream to my slice of pie, the biscuit with my coffee. We complete each other, and you listen to me when I really need to just word vomit all over the floor about something either entirely related or all too related, from time to time. I know if I need to call you anytime I can, and maybe my favorite memory of 2020 so far has been us watching Cats together and just suffering the entire time, but getting through it together. You’re funny, smart, endlessly endearing, work harder than the devil when it comes to threads and replies, and I’m grateful as all get out to have you with me in life!! -- JULIE

ROGUE, YOU REALLY CAME IN HERE AND SAID YEAH, I’M GOING TO SHAKE SHIT UP FROM DAY ONE. Whew, I remember one week you knocked out like four bios back-to-back and I just stood there trying to stop myself from booking a flight to your city and camping out in front of your house like the stan that I am. Sometimes, I still can’t believe there was a day you weren’t on the admin team because you not only fit seamlessly, but you also are just so essential now. Everything you’ve done in the few months since you joined our team, Rogue, has been *chef’s kiss* flawless. From the characters that I’m ANXIOUS to see on the dash to the ways you’ve helped guide our decisions and responses, I can’t imagine DiVerona and the admin team without you anymore! You brighten my day on a daily basis, and I love brainstorming with you, screaming with you, and I just love YOU! — MINNIE

to baby rogue, you see and know my True Sinner Nature rogue and the fact that you, in turn, have shared yours with me makes me feel so warm and bubbly inside - as well as makes me giggle. we really do have this habit of taking little smidgens of inspiration and connections and growing them into something extraordinary. geeking out about anything and everything within that encyclopedic brain of yours is one of my favorite things - our late night conversations, watching cursed together, plucking characters and plots from each other’s names as if they were already written in the stars...i dont know how to live without. there are so many things that i love about you: how you want to make everyone feel seen, how inclusive you are and kind, how you foster such creativity to others...i love and treasure you so very much. and we have so many more characters and worlds to explore together. -- ROSEY

ROSEY

I don’t think I'll ever forget the day that you asked me if I'd like to be an admin and offered me a spot on the team. It was just you, me and Bree back then and I was way in over my head, but you made me feel at home without even trying, honestly. DV is my first longstanding admin experience and truly the best one I've ever had, and it’s all thanks to you, which is something that I'll always cherish and keep close to my heart. I've looked up to you, learned a lot from you and felt inspired by you over the years, not just because everything was so new to me at the start, but because you're a guiding light for anyone who's lucky enough to have you in their life and share with you the experiences that I have. I'm so incredibly proud of everything we've done together, and proud of you most of all. Thank you for being the one to bring me along for this amazing journey, Rosey, and thank you for going through it with me for two amazing, unforgettable years. — JEN

I think, sometimes, that people think I’m joking when I tell them you saved my life, Rosey Ro, but you did, in a way that I would never have guessed. I felt utterly alone, coming fresh out of a physically and mentally abusive relationship, juggling court dates and other things that seemed impossible to conquer. I’d left Diverona unsure of my present, what I’d considered my past, and my future, but I happened to log into Discord one day and came upon that good ole’ 9+ messages notification. All of them were from you. Every single one. It felt like a sign, of some kind, and so, as I scraped my life together, we chatted and I re-apped for DV, and in spite of tumultuous times on both our ends, I don’t regret a fucking minute of it. You have truly helped me in figuring out who I am as an individual person, where I fit in the world, and with every crisis and “OH SHIT” moment, you’ve been there for me, whether it was in your writing, your jokes, late night calls with you, messages over Whatsapp knee-deep in irritation or excitement. You’re the older sister I never got to have. Without Diverona, my life wouldn’t be the same. Without you, my life wouldn’t be the same. I love you so much. -- JULIE

How far we’ve come since we talked about Greek life parties and glitter… Rosey, my sister sign and my mirror, the mother to my father, I love you very much. Your creativity is – as we all can tell from DiVerona’s success – UNMATCHED, and your heart goes even deeper than I think most people realize. For someone who writes some of the scariest and evilest characters, you are one of the most considerate, thoughtful and empathetic people I’ve yet to meet. Thank you for creating this space and reminding us time and time again that we’re more than just admins; we’re individuals with Big Feelings as well as Big Brains. You did an amazing job, Rosey. It doesn’t get said enough, and if I could, I would tattoo it to your brain if it meant it would stick: you created a beautiful group, and no one can take that away from you. — MINNIE

Rosey, Rosey, Rosey. All of this is your fault. I never thought I would join any kind of mafia RP, always having been prone to more fantastical settings in my preferences, but when you asked me to look around at the bios, how could I say no? How could I have known it would entirely change my life? Before DV and in DV, you and I have written some of my favorite relationships to work on, some of my favorite threads of all time. You pull out such creativity from me that I never would’ve imagined existed in my brain. I love you such a ridiculous amount. I could, would, and do talk to you about anything and everything. I want to spend like 50 years of my life fighting with you over whether Hope from Legacies is hot and indulging in our weird shared white boy thirsts. You are so funny, so talented, so bright, so interesting and I don’t know how I got so lucky as to be your friend. If you and I aren’t writing together when we’re 80 it’s because I died early and tragically and you wore a sexy fascinator to my funeral. — ROGUE

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Hi bee, i hope you're doing wellI just wanna ask for some tips bc I can't seem to do the "show don't tell" thing when writing. I have no idea why, it's weirdly difficult. Any websites or good examples about it? I'm kinda disappointed in myself. Thank u for being so kind! Much love to you

Ah yes, the classic advice that everyone says but is very hard to actually define. As a beginning writer, I always found this especially confusing because all writing is “telling” in the sense that you are telling a story. You only have words. It’s also a very hard thing to find clear examples of because “telling” might only be a sentence or two but good “showing” might take a whole scene, a whole chapter or a whole novel to do right. It’s something that takes practice and, unlike rules of grammar, can’t be fixed overnight.

I don’t always get it right (and “right” gets pretty subjective with this topic), but as an exercise, let’s compare the first scene I ever wrote to the opening scene of Void.

Excerpt One: Opening Scene of If You’re Struggling

(Disclaimer: I am so embarrassed by this cringey-ness. There is a reason I deleted it from Tumblr. Please don’t judge me too harshly. Writing is a learning process)

To illustrate the point (and because Tumblr’s formatting options suck) I’ve put a strikethrough on all the parts I would consider “telling” instead of “showing”.

“Have a great first day, honey!” Your boyfriend gives you a quick kiss as you grab your coffee and head out the door for your first day at your new job. You’ve been eagerly awaiting this day for several weeks now, since your successful interview with BigHit Entertainment. Up until now, you’ve been working as a makeup artist on a spec basis here in Seoul, but this is going to be your first full-time job as a makeup artist and stylist.

At the BigHit offices, you are welcomed in by the head stylist whom you met at your interview and she shows you around the offices.

“Ok, we need to get to the dressing room” she says, clapping her hands. “The boys are recording their dance practice today, and we need to do their makeup beforehand.”

Your heart beats a little faster when you realize you’re about to meet BTS. A month ago you had never heard of them, but since getting this job two weeks ago, you’ve been a bit obsessed - listening to their music non-stop as you do housework, watching all of their music videos over and over, seeking out all of their Bangtan bombs and television appearances. When your boyfriend caught you watching the “Boy in Luv” video for about the 30th time on your laptop, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your cheek.

“Do I need to be worried about you spending so much time with these boys?” He teased.

You turned your head and kissed him reassuringly on the lips. “No!” you giggled in mock offense “look at them, they’re just kids!”

You enter the dressing room and are pointed to a makeup chair in front of a mirror. You set about cleaning up your station and setting up your kit before the boys arrive. You hear the boys coming before you see them - shouting and laughing down the hallway before they get to the door. You are still setting up your station when the door clangs open and they burst into the room.

You turn around to find a tall, older blond boy already sitting in your chair. He gives you a smile and shakes your hand. “Hi. I’m Namjoon. You must be the new stylist.” He introduces himself as the leader and offers to help you get to know the other members. “Watch out for the younger ones, they like to play jokes on each other and everyone else.”

After Namjoon, you meet Jin. He is polite and spends most of his time in the chair filling you in on his recommendations for the other members “Be sure you get underneath Yoongi’s eyes, he was up late last night”, “Don’t go too dark on Jungkook’s lip color”, and so on. When you’re finished, he smiles gratefully at you and stands up to go.

Hoseok comes running over and throws his arm around Jin’s shoulders. “Jin’s make-up is easy since he’s so handsome already, right noona?” he teases Jin.

“Yes, precisely.” Jin replies, not embarrassed at all, but gives you a smile before heading off to hair.

Hoseok is the easiest to talk to out of all of the boys. He peppers you with questions as you do his makeup, all about where you’re from and where you’ve worked before. Before you know it, you’ve told him all about your life, including how you moved from South Korea to the US when you were six for your dad’s work and moved back when you were sixteen. “Oh wow!” He says excitedly. “We can all practice our English with you!”

While you are talking, a loud commotion comes from the back of the room as Jimin and Taehyung are playing Rock, Paper, Scissors and shouting about something.

“What’s going on?” You ask Hoseok and he smiles, a little embarrassed.

“They’re having a disagreement about who gets to sit in your chair next…” He replies. You just blush and look away.

While the younger boys are distracted with their battle, Yoongi plops down into your chair. He introduces himself with a nod and puts in headphones. About halfway through applying his makeup, you realize that he has fallen asleep. You look over at Namjoon, “What do I do now? Should I wake him up?” You ask.

Namjoon just chuckles, “You can keep going, he’ll just sleep through it.” When you’re finished, you gently wake him back up and point him in the direction of the hairstylist. He grumbles appreciatively and stumbles off.

Jimin has apparently won the game and comes rushing over to fill the vacant chair. “Hi. I’m Jimin.” He flashes you a devilish grin, then adds “You know… you are a lot younger and cuter than our last stylist…”

You’re a bit flustered, but Namjoon saves you. “Jimin, you can’t talk to our stylist like that!” He smacks Jimin gently upside the head and suddenly Jimin is just an adorable kid again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” he says and you get to work on his makeup.

Taehyung watches you doing Jimin’s makeup, making goofy faces in the mirror when your back is turned, trying to get Jimin to laugh and mess up all your hard work. He slides in when Jimin is done. He spends most of his time in the chair shouting across the room to Jimin, who is now having his hair done. You keep having to gently remind him to sit still.

The maknae is last. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.” He quietly introduces himself. He is really shy and barely says anything else to you as you do his makeup, but you can tell he is trying really hard to stay perfectly still, despite several attempts from the older members to distract him.

Once all of the boys are ready, their manager comes and rounds them up and you hear them running back down the hall to the dance studio laughing and joking. You breathe a sigh of relief and can’t fight back the smile that spreads across your face.

The first few weeks of working at BigHit are fantastic. The boys continue to warm up to you as you get to know them better. Namjoon loves talking with you in English, especially really quickly so his bandmates can’t follow what he’s saying. Of course, you can’t always follow what he’s saying either, but he is so thoughtful and full of ideas. Yoongi still often falls asleep, but he also now comes in with music recommendations for you and hands you the other ear of his headphones while you do his makeup. Hoseok continues to be your favorite, telling you all about his childhood, the audition and debut process, and filling you in on the latest gossip. Jimin and V continue to cause trouble, but are so adorable when they do that you can never stay mad at them. And Jungkook continues to be quiet and sit perfectly still in the makeup chair. He is so chatty with his bandmates that you are a little sad he isn’t more comfortable with you, but it does make his makeup easier to do than Taehyung’s.

Thoughts:

So there a lot of things here like it being her first day of work, her being nervous, and the mannerisms of the boys that would have been much better if I had showed them through dialogue, description, and physical mannerisms rather than telling them outright. It would have done a lot better job of placing the reader in the scene and would read as a bit less cringey. The last paragraph in this scene is particular egregious because instead of allowing the reader to see those relationships build over time and really invest us in those characters, I just summarize in one paragraph.

As a result, we get to the end of this scene and we know a lot of facts, but we don’t really have any good sense of who this character is or why we should care about her or empathize with her.

Excerpt Two: Opening Scene of Void

(Disclaimer: This is also not perfect, but it is much improved from the previous)

“Can you see them?”

You blink your eyes as you stare into the microscope, squinting against the bright light. You’ve been staring into this scope for two hours, searching for tiny signs of life.

“Maybe?” you reply. Your colleague leans in closer, close enough to smell his shampoo. Your eyes begin to water as you scour the field of view, checking each fleck of dirt for your prize. But again, you came up empty. “No, I don’t think so.”

You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing them to relieve the strain. You didn't get much sleep last night. But you can’t bring yourself to complain to Hoseok.

He groans, standing up and twisting side to side. Your back aches in sympathy from bending over these finicky slides all morning. “We’re going to run out of samples.” The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown.

“We’ll run out of kerosene first,” you mutter. You look back through the lens one last time, hoping you missed something.

“They should have sent us with more.” Your fellow science officer stands up and walks over to chemical storage.

“Yeah, because large amounts of volatile organic liquids are a great thing to have on spacecraft." No one else on this ship would appreciate your joke. It’s not a good joke. But Hoseok humors you and gives you a small chuckle.

“Should we try an acid?” he suggests, as he examines the inside of the storage cabinet.

“Acetic?” He nods and scratches his chest as he fishes out the necessary bottle. He walks the acid back to your lab station and sets it down on the counter next to you.

He sighs and puts his hands on his hips, resuming his twisting back and forth. He clasps his hands together and does a long slow stretch upwards. Your eye catches on the sliver of exposed skin popping into view as his shirt rides up.

His smooth skin stretches across well-defined muscles, distracting your serious scientific mind. You lick your lips as you imagine how warm he would feel under your palm. You stare at the gap between his navel and the top of his pants. Not for the first time, you find yourself wondering what his skin tastes like.

“We should dilute it.” His shirt falls back down, breaking the spell. You look away, shaking your head, embarassed by your own lacivious thoughts. You’re a professional. A highly educated astronaut and scientist. You have a PhD, for god’s sake. Focus on the mission at hand.

“Yeah, we should.” You nod in confimation before standing up to get some glassware. “What concentration?”

As you turn around to reach the water tap, Hoseok moves to reach the tablet behind you. Your small lab is so narrow that you end up colliding with him. You bounce backwards off his body, cradling your beaker of water, headed straight back toward all of your ship’s glassware. You panic. Visions of shattering thousands of dollars of lab supplies fly through your head. But Hoseok catches you before you stumble into the cabinetry. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize he’s got you in his arms.

“Fuck.” You smile. “Sorry, Hoseok.”

“It’s okay.” He laughs, shaking his head. “My fault.” His hands linger on you as you both chuckle. You feel the heat of his touch seeping through your jumpsuit.

Despite living in such tight quarters, it’s rare that you’re ever this close to him. You try to avoid physical contact with the crew out of self-preservation.

He smells good. Hoseok always smells good. While your ship smells mechanical and sterile, the man holding you smells warm and human. It’s comforting, but in a way that makes you ache with how you long to bury yourself in him.

Your colleague lets go of you and steps backwards, coughing into his shirt sleeve. He picks up the tablet and scrolls through your research materials. The warmth of his hands begins to fade from your shoulders. He finds the correct dilution factor and reads it out to you.

You measure out the appropriate amounts of acid mixing it with water. Hoseok retrieves another fragment of the meteoroid that you’re scouring for microorganisms. When he returns, you cover the sample with the acid, stopper the flask and set it to oscillate for a hour.

“Nothing to do now but wait.” You sit down on your stool and drum on your thighs. The idea of being alone with Hoseok for another hour fills you with nervous energy. It's a relief when he excuses himself to the bathroom.

It didn’t used to be this hard. When you started this mission two years ago, you had no problem being alone with any of your crew members. You were professionals doing a job together, and there wasn’t time or energy for idle sexual tension. But as the mission drags on, you have begun to feel more and more on edge. And it’s not only Hoseok. You are finding it harder and harder to be alone with any of the crew. When you spend all night fantasizing about someone, normal conversation becomes difficult.

You stare at the flask rocking back and forth on the counter and let your mind wander. You replay your previous clumsy moment. You imagine Hoseok catching you in his arms again, but this time you grab him and kiss him. You smell him and taste him and surround yourself in him. You close your eyes and follow the fantasy further. You imagine dropping to your knees and sucking him off up against the glassware cabinet. You imagine the way the lab equipment would clink as he bent you over the lab counter.

Hoseok returns, brandishing his tablet. “I got the new article from Geology on microfossils, if you want to take a look.” You sigh and nod.

Thoughts: So there is definitely some telling happening in this scene too. Telling is not always the worst thing in the world, although I wrote this scene nearly two years ago, so if I could go back and edit some of this out now I would. But what I want to point out here is how much information I convey without ever having to explicitly spell it out: we’re on a spaceship, the OC is a scientist with a crush on her colleague, she is touch-starved, they are searching for fossils, etc. And I think it does a much better job than the previous example at drawing the reader into the scene.

___

In general, here some good pointers for moving more in the showing direction:

1. Focus as much as you can on the present moment. What is your character thinking right now? What are they feeling? What information are they getting from their senses?

2. Use dialogue. Dialogue is a great way to show relationships between characters and fill in backstory without long paragraphs of just “telling” your readers stuff. Just be careful that it sounds like real dialogue and not exposition masquerading as dialogue. No one tells anyone their whole life story the first time they meet them or repeats information that the other person would obviously know.

3. Trust your readers to fill in the gaps. Readers are very good at picking up context clues. You don’t need to spell everything out for them. If you put them in the scene and describe the world around them well, they will figure out lots of things just from context.

Hope that helps! The only real solution is to play around with it and practice and see what you like. Good luck!

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