#like ill have ten minutes to get from building a to building b

[found-the-secrets-in-your-eyes]

hey adults who I'm friends with, am I utterly stupid for scheduling 3 classes each 10 minutes apart from each other? or just like a little stupid

[zen-the-dumb]

Hello! I'd like to put in a request, please. I love your writing!

Okay, so, could I please have (all these characters from mha) Tamaki, Kirishima, and Hawks (separately. And idk if you do multiple characters, if not, then just Kirishima, please.) With an s/o who wears glasses? Idk what the scenario could be, but like, maybe they lose them and can't see? I do that a lot lmao.

Thanks in advance!! Stay safe!

Hello anon. Yeah! Ill do Kiri first then Hawks and Tamaki. Great choices! Thank you for reading and im glad you like it!

Kirishima when his s/o loses their glasses.

You had lost your glasses earlier that morning. No matter how hard you searched for them, you couldnt find them anywhere in your dorm.

As the minutes of your searching ticked by, you began to panic. It was only ten minutes until you had to be in class and they were nowhere to be found.

Finally, you just picked up your phone and exited your room and out into the hallway.

Just as normal, Kirishima was waiting for you by the door out of the dorm building.

“Y/n? Where are your glasses?” Kiri asked almost as soon as he saw you.

You looked at him, though he looked more like a blob with red hair to you.

“They’re gone. Its okay though. Ill be fine. Its just for today” you responded.

“If you say so..” he said a bit nervously.

You made it to class safely and without incident. Kirishima left you after he walked you to class 1-B and headed toward class 1-A.

During class, you squinted to see the board. The math notes that Mr. Vlad King had written on the board were completely unintelligible without your glasses. You struggled to see and just jotted down the notes the best you could.

You sighed with relief when the lunch bell rang. You stood outside your class and waited for Kirishima. It took about five minutes before he came to get you for lunch.

You walked down the stone brick path outside while you searched for a place to sit.

“Y/n?” Kirishima questioned, turning his head to look at you from where he stood beside you.

“Yeah?” You responded as if nothing was wrong.

“Are you sure you’re okay without your glasses? You’re squinting a-lot, man” he asked you, clearly just concerned for your own well-being.

“Im fine!” you insisted again.

Not a few moments later, you tripped over a brick that had come out of the path a bit.

Kirishima frantically grabbed the back of your shirt to keep you from falling.

“Are you alright?!”

He pulled you back up and you regained your balance.

“We should go find your glasses. They’re in your dorm, right?” he seemed resolute.

“Yeah..” you flushed with embarrassment at your stupidity of tripping over such an obvious brick.

Kirishima took you by the hand and guided you back to your dorm. He opened the door and began asking you basic questions, like where did you last have them?

After about ten minutes of you both looking together Kirishima noticed how much of a mess your bed sheets were. He straightened them out and exclaimed.

“What?” you questioned his exclaimation.

Kirishima came back over to you without saying anything. He put your glasses back on your face for you.

Now that you could finally see, you saw that he was smiling and clearly very proud of himself for finding your glasses.

“Better?”

———————————————————————————————

I Hope you enjoyed.

*_Requests are open_*

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

Kidcat AU? Who is the kid? are they a literal cat at any point?

KIDCAT AU KIDCAT AU this is mine and @lady-stormbraver's baby (Lady gets credit bc she's my brainstorming and plotting partner on it)!!!! the kid is Tim because I watched The Batman 2022, saw Bruce and Selina being weird stalkers (affectionate) and I went oh hey you know who else is a stalker and has a lot of love in his heart? TIMBERLY. and decided I wanted a Reevesverse Stray AU. this version of Selina sooooo needs a weird little nerd kid following in her shadow. also a big part of the premise is that 1) Jason and Tim hit it off, realize that they consider each other brothers, and decide they're going to Parent Trap(TM) Bruce and Selina, and 2) Dick is in his Hot Mess Era and is wearing a leather jacket with the Discowing suit and at one point ill-advisedly bleached his hair because he thought it would tick off Bruce and he's not great at being an older brother to one little sibling, let alone one (official) little sibling AND the cat-themed tagalong who's hanging around nowadays. this scene takes place a fair bit through the AU and is kind of a turning point in Dickie's character arc in this 'verse.

Batman is out of town, which means Nightwing is in town.

B isn't actually that far, just swapped cities for the night because a lead he'd been tailing ended up taking him to Blüd and he asked Dick, stiltedly and struggling, to cover his patrol route in Gotham tonight. Dick had agreed, because he's been on better terms with Bruce lately and is trying to keep it that way and not completely live up to his name, like Jason likes to say. Anyway, he's not patrolling alone. He's just babysitting, really, though he figures if Selina is out she's keeping her eyes on the kids as well, and possibly him, too.

Robin and Stray took a separate patrol route from his, and Dick had argued with Jason for ten minutes before they took it to Alfred, who cleared that they're allowed to split off like that. Dick does not really want to be babysitting, but he also really doesn't want to screw it up.

"Nightwing!" Comes a sudden, loud cry through his earpiece that almost makes Dick, even with a literal lifetime of practiced balance, miss his landing. "Dick, something's wrong," Jason says, voice tight. "Tim passed out and won't wake up and shit, I'm breaking the names rule, just- Dick, help."

Dick feels like someone's dumped a glass of ice water over his head and maybe broken the glass on his skull for good measure. The chill settles directly under his ribs. Jason never asks for help, not his help, at least. His mind plays a dozen scenarios of gas or gunshots or gang fights and he grapples to the top of the nearest building almost on instinct. When lost, climb to a high point. He deliberately stills at the top, takes a slow breath so his voice won't shake. That one momentary pause is better than the minutes he may have to spend calming Jason if he lets him hear the terror Dick is feeling. "What's your location, Robin?" He asks, sends the request to Alfred, back at the Manor, at the same time.

Jason replies immediately with two street names, the closest corner he remembers, at the same time Alfred pings with a precise coordinate. The running leap Dick takes off the building isn't as smooth as it would be otherwise, if he wasn't responsible for Jason and Tim tonight. If he wasn't freaking terrified thinking of things that could have happened to Sel's tiny little shadow who, yeah, okay, Dick is a bit fond of himself. What Jason could be dealing with, the goddamned protective instincts in that kid has for everyone but himself sometimes. No extra flips tonight, no wasting time on showing off or having fun. It wouldn't be fun, anyway, tonight.

Dick isn't Nightwing when he touches down, not really. He's just a teenager looking for another teenager and the little kid they've both claimed as brother. Sometimes he thinks that's all that holds him and Jason together, other than Bruce. He finds what he's looking for on a roof, tucked away in the nook formed between a high concrete railing and the roof access stairs to the building below.

Jason is a bright flare of red and green and Dick rushes toward him, only remembering too late that Jason flinches, and badly, and that he should have slowed down. Tim is slumped in Jason's arms, black cat-eared hood already pulled down away from his face, the older boy curled protectively around the little black form.

"Robin," Dick says, snapping himself back into Nightwing mode, "Report. What happened?"

"I don't know," Jason snaps, eyes flicking back and forth from Tim, who looks half-conscious, at least, to Dick like he thinks Dick is going to try and take Tim away from him. "He seemed off all night, kinda slow, I guess? We were patrolling like normal, nothing weird, but he just... collapsed. He's burning up."

"Okay," Dick says. "Okay." Slowly, this time, a lot like how he acts with victims — although he hates thinking of it like that, because this is, essentially, his brothers — he reaches towards Tim.

Jason all but growls at him, holding the smaller boy tighter. "Don't touch him."

Dick sits back on his heels. "Jason," he says, "Jay, you've gotta let me check him out, okay?"

Jason eyes him from behind his mask, and it feels a lot like he's taking that one second that Dick took earlier to calm himself. It feels like Dick is becoming both a big brother and Nightwing at the same time. "Okay," he says, and visibly makes himself relax when Dick reaches out again.

"It's okay," Dick says, briefly placing a hand on Jason's head without even thinking about it as he checks Tim's pulse with the other. It's quick, fluttery but not uneven. "You're right, he's running a pretty high fever." Tim's eyelids flicker, and Dick brings a hand up to his face, taps his cheek gently with one gloved finger. "Heya, kitten, you with us?"

Tim blinks sluggishly, eyes half-lidded and clearly not totally lucid. "Nigh'wing?" He mumbles, body suddenly tensing like he's trying to sit up, but Jason holds him tight.

"Relax, baby cat, be still," Jason says, frowning down at him as Tim squirms momentarily. He glances up to make eye contact with Dick, but mostly they both stay fixated on the youngest of them.

Tim stills, his head resting against Jason's shoulder. "Jay..." he breathes, relaxing against this older boy, whose face goes softer than Dick even knew it could.

"We should get him home," Dick says quietly. Jason looks up at him, and Dick can see the but you only have a motorbike counter coming a mile away. "I'll call the 'Mobile."

"F...reakin' autopilot," Jason scoffs, but Dick can see some of the tension ease out of him. "Dick?"

"Hm?" Dick stands to watch for the headlights of the Batmobile. Hopefully Alfred has been on comms tonight and already sent a message to Selina, because Dick feels like he's juggling and not very smoothly.

Jason hesitates long enough to make Dick turn, catching the moment Jason turns his wide, greenish-blue eyes from staring after Dick back to focus on Tim. "Will you call B, too?" He asks, his voice just a little shaky.

Dick sighs. "Yeah, Jay. I'm calling him."

At the end of the day, or in this case, at the end of the night, he wants his dad too. Maybe that's another thing that holds them together.

[creataav]

oh look! a sanders sides fic? yes indeed!!

its presently a work in progress, but i'm planning on updating this relatively frequently. i want these chapters to be kind of long (>2,000 words), so it might not be a weekly thing but i'll update as often as i can. ch. 1 will be on tumblr, all chapters after that can be found on ao3!!

Virgil didn’t think he would ever get used to being friendly with Janus again. The other sides - mainly Logan and Patton- had made the decision to integrate him into their group without him, but he would have appreciated a heads-up before he ran into the snake lounging in the living room, watching some kind of crime documentary (Virgil was too distracted to check what it was about) without a care in the world. 

“Wh- How- When-” Virgil paused, catching his breath and trying to slow his brain down enough to form a coherent question. Janus glanced at him and raised an eyebrow, turning down the volume on the TV. “No one told me you moved in.” 

Janus frowned, although there was a glint of something in his eyes that made Virgil uneasy. “I thought you all were the pinnacle of communication these days. Unless…?” He looked at Virgil with false shock. “They just didn’t think to tell you.”

Virgil suppressed a groan. He didn’t have the patience for Deceit today. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. To his disappointment, Janus was still sitting there when he opened them. “I’m not in the mood for you today.”

“Take it up with Patton, if you’d like. He’ll totally agree with you and kick me out immediately. I might not even get to say goodbye to Logan!” Janus turned the volume back up, but not before throwing Virgil a pout.

“I’d think you’d want to chat with Roman, with how dramatic you’re being,” Virgil muttered, heading to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He heard a gasp from the couch and ignored it. Today was going to be a long day.

—

Even though Virgil knew that Janus was being sarcastic, he found himself at Patton’s door, biting the inside of his cheek and building up the courage to knock. He chickened out, and shot him a text instead.

9:35 AM

virge: can we talk? im by your room.

He waited a couple minutes for Patton’s reply, hearing some thunks sound from behind the door.

Patton-Cake<333333: Ofc!!!! 1 sec, Ill b right ther!!

Virgil smiled, shoulders relaxing a little bit. The door in front of him creaked open, Patton not at all surprised that Virgil was waiting for him in front of it.

“Hey, buddy! What’s up?” Patton stepped back, gesturing into his room for Virgil to enter, closing the door behind them. “Oh- wait, one second-” He turned and started rummaging through a canvas bag that seemed to be bigger on the inside than the outside, since Patton’s arm had fully disappeared inside. He let out a sound of triumph and pulled out a fidget cube, one that he knew Virgil loved. “There we are.” He tossed it to him, and Virgil smiled gratefully, immediately beginning to push the little buttons on its side. 

Patton waited for Virgil to speak first. 

“Who decided to let Deceit in here?” Virgil saw Patton’s throat bob as he swallowed hard. “Pat-”

“I meant to give you a heads-up,” Patton said, pulling out a pop-it for himself and beginning to fiddle with it. “But I didn’t know how to say it without stressing you out and Jan really didn-”

“Jan?!” Virgil almost dropped his cube. “Patton, I mean this with all due respect, but what the fuck is going on here? I know you’re gonna be like ‘have some empathy Virge! You were like him once, too’ but this is so different! He’s Deceit!” Patton winced at Virgil’s impression of him. He felt a twinge of guilt at having hurt the other sides’ feelings, but he forged ahead. “You seriously can’t be planning on fully integrating him into our space. I truly don’t think he could ever go back to being a friendly presence in the mind palace.”

Patton paused. “Logan thinks it would be a good idea to get Thomas to accept every part of him. To give everyone the same kind of treatment without having some of us banished to dungeons or wherever Remus is now.”

“I know that that’s not why you’re doing this, Pat. If it was, Janus would have told me to talk to Logan. But he knows that you know something that if I knew it it would make me feel bad.” Virgil blinked. “That makes no sense but you get what I’m saying! He wanted me to talk to you. And more often than not he wants to hurt my feelings. So I can only assume that something you’re gonna say to me will hurt my feelings. Well, lay it on me, Pat. Quit beating around the bush.”

Patton blinked. “Is that really what you think of him?”

“Yes!” Virgil set down the cube, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and looking pleadingly up at Patton. “That’s why I feel so on edge with him being here. He hasn’t been nice to me since Thomas was a kid. I can’t imagine he would ever go back to that. He hates me. I make his job harder. He doesn’t want me around, and believe you me, the feeling’s mutual.”

“Are you sure, though?” Patton’s voice was quieter now, and he was pushing the circles on the pop-it faster. “I mean, people can change.”

“But we’re not people, Patton. We’re sides. We don’t really change.”

“You did.”

Virgil grunted, trying to find some kind of argument that he could make. “But I didn’t have a history of sabotagi-'' He faltered. “I just really don’t feel good about him being here, Patton, why don’t you get that?”

“I do,” Patton said, looking up at Virgil, empathy and understanding filling his eyes. “I really do. But I also think that it’s not easy for him. He’s only ever been around you and Remus. He needs to be nurtured and loved and taken care of. Just like you do. Just like all of us do. And it’s OK if you don’t want to spend all of your time with him. I understand. But you have to give him a shot. Or else he can’t get better.” He set down the pop-it and moved to sit next to Virgil, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Remember when you first came to live with us, and how unhappy Roman was about it?”

Virgil nodded, leaning in a little. Patton took the hint and moved his hand, using it to wrap around Virgil instead and give him a hug.

“Do you remember when he stopped being so unhappy?” Virgil thought back, and several different memories filled his mind. Disney, being in his room, Bizaardvark, cartoons... “It’s hard to pick just one, huh, kiddo?” Virgil nodded. “Acceptance like that is gradual. It has to be. I’m not asking you to forgive Janus overnight. I’m asking you to consider it. And then, maybe in a couple days, I’ll ask you to say hello to him once and a while. Just a hello. That’s it. And then a few days after that I’ll ask if you want to join us when we watch a movie together. It’ll take little steps. I’m just asking you to try.” He moved so that he was looking Virgil directly in the eyes. “Can you do that for me, Virge?”

Virgil hummed noncommittally. Patton chuckled before his eyes turned serious again. “Well if you can’t consider it, I’ll tell him to avoid you so that you don’t have to interact with him until you’re ready. How does that sound?”

Virgil burrowed his head further into Patton’s chest in answer, and Patton squeezed him as a reply, sighing contentedly as he leaned back, setting Virgil’s head on his lap and running his hands through his hair. They sat there for a few moments, Virgil curled into him, savoring how warm the other side was. Patton frowned and examined a piece of Virgil’s hair. “Your roots are growing out. Do you want me to help you re-dye it later?”

Virgil pulled a piece of his bangs down in front of his eyes, and studied it. “I can do it on my own. Don’t want anyone else breathing in the bleach fumes.” He blew the strand out of his face and pushed himself up, smoothing the hair that Patton had pushed back. “Thanks for offering, though.”

Patton smiled, getting up to open the door for him. “Of course, kiddo! If you ever want to talk about anything - Janus-related or otherwise - feel free to stop by!”

Virgil gave him a pat on the back and headed out the open door, planning on retreating to his bedroom. When he walked in, however, he saw Roman in the corner, going through his CD collection. He felt a groan build up in the back of his throat, and added a little bit of his Anxiety oomph to it. “Princey!”

Roman jumped, dropping Pretty. Odd. by Panic! At the Disco on the floor. His face and ears flushed red and he scratched the back of his neck. “Virgil! How’s it going… buddy?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and picked up the disc. At least it was still in the case. “What’s the deal, Princey? And if it’s about Janus-” Virgil said when Roman opened his mouth to respond, “I already talked to Pat about it and my energy for heart-to-hearts is depleted. It’ll be five to seven business days before I’m in the mood for another one.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “I was going to ask if you wanted to watch Lilo and Stitch with me. I’m not in the mood to talk about the snake.” 

There was enough venom in Roman’s voice that Virgil knew it wasn’t his place to pry, so he ignored it. “Uh-uh. My turn to pick the movie.”

Roman frowned, but something in his eyes looked relieved that Virgil was willing to join him in his distraction. “Somehow, I feel like it’s always your turn.” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Fine. What are we watching?”

Virgil grinned. “Coraline.”

—

Virgil stood in the kitchen, making popcorn, becoming increasingly annoyed that he could see the dark brown roots of his hair in his reflection in the glass. He’d have to redo it sooner than he was planning if it was getting on his nerves this much. And warn the others before he did, since it would certainly stink up the bathroom. He glanced at the fridge. Logan had put up a magnetic whiteboard a long time ago, and Patton had bought four markers for it, a dark blue, a light blue, a red, and a purple. One for each person that lived in the house. Virgil noticed that a yellow one had joined the collection. “Damn it, Patton.” He muttered to himself, taking the purple one and uncapping it. The only note on it was one of Patton’s weekly motivational quotes. “Folks that mind don’t matter and folks that matter don’t mind!” it said. Virgil snorted. He wondered if Deceit had even noticed the efforts Patton was going to to include him. Hell, he’d even gotten a personalized whiteboard quote! Not even Virgil had gotten that before. They were usually just blanket statements that worked for everyone, like the “You are enough!!! ❤” that appeared after the courtroom debacle, or the “Your only limit is your mind!” that was hastily scrawled during Logan and Roman’s debate about Thomas’ motivation. He raised the marker and wrote underneath it, “doing my hair @10:30 sunday morning,” his handwriting small and cramped but still big enough to be legible. He paused. The room was silent. That was weird. 

“Shit, the popcorn!” He muttered, bolting back over to the microwave and taking out the packet. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-” He was burning his fingers, and it hurt, but he was much more focused on the charred smell that was drifting from the bag into the air. 

Roman turned back to look at him from the couch. “You alright, Virge?”

Virgil winced. “Yep!” He took a whiff of the bag and bit his lip. “How- um- burnt would you say you tend to like your popcorn?” He could practically hear Roman’s confusion. “You know what, don’t answer that, because this was the last packet. The popcorn’s going to be a little crispy.” There was no point in pretending that anything else could happen. He pulled a metal bowl out of the cupboard and poured the popcorn into it. Virgil happened to like his popcorn a little burnt, so maybe some of it might be salvageable to him, but he was almost certain that Roman wouldn’t. Roman couldn’t even drink coffee without a pound of sugar in it, there was no way he would eat something as bitter as extra-crispy popcorn. Virgil sighed and glanced around the kitchen, eyes darting desperately from distraction to distraction before he honed in on a target. Perfect. He smiled, grabbed it and took the two items into the living room where Roman was waiting. 

Roman glanced up from the couch as he pulled up the movie. “Gummy worms? Oh, Virgil, you really shouldn’t have.” There was something lurking beneath his words.

“Of course I should have,” Virgil plopped down on the couch next to him, tossing the bag of gummies into Princey’s lap and adjusting the bowl on his own, “I fucked up the popcorn. You deserve snacks with your movie.”

Roman looked into the bowl and wrinkled his nose. “What did you do to it, Emo? I didn’t know popcorn could get that charred.”

“I got distracted and kinda zoned out?” Virgil took a deep breath. “Someone - I assume Patton, who else - got Janus a marker.”

Roman’s hand froze halfway to his mouth, several gummy worms stuffed into it. Actually, his whole body seemed to have frozen, his face was the only thing that seemed to be shifting whatsoever. Virgil noticed something shift in his eyes; they became shiny and wet. And bloodshot. Very quickly. 

A tear trickled out. “They didn’t listen.” Roman said, putting the gummy worms into his mouth. “Of course they didn’t. I always have to be wrong, don’t I?” He laughed, but it was cold and sharp. “How fucking ironic is that? The knight - the prince, even - always being the one in the wrong. I’m fucking sick of it.”

“They didn’t even give me a heads-up.” Virgil’s words were barely louder than a whisper. Roman looked at him, surprised. “I just walked in this morning and he was sitting right here.” He patted the couch next to him. “Watching some kind of true crime shit. Nobody told me. I was barely even awake- I didn’t know what to do. I talked to Patton but… I don’t know. I just can’t feel good about this.”

Roman took the bowl of burned popcorn. Virgil hadn’t touched it. He opened the bag of gummy worms and offered it to him. Virgil took some, shoving them in his mouth miserably and switching the TV to Disney+. Roman raised his eyebrows, tear tracks still stained on his face. “Don’t pity me, Virgil. Of all the things I want from you, your pity will never be one.”

“I just want you to pick tonight. I’m not in the mood for Coraline anymore.” Virgil knew that Roman really needed something to control. He wasn’t pitying the prince, he just wanted to support him in the little ways he could. He handed Roman the remote like it was an olive branch. Roman took it. 

He was going to have another chat with Patton soon.

[chilly-me-softly]

fluff alphabet for jordan (henderson)

This is my first alphabet so hope I did it right and that you like it! x

A - APRON

Jordan wasn't the best cook in the world, he kept it simple and always made the same recipes sure that the result was more than acceptable. And you loved to see him in action, from the moment he put on his apron until he got to the cooker, his expression always focused as if he were in the middle of a surgical operation. And then his eagerness to know if it was good, the smile on his face when you complimented him, him enormously pleased with himself.

B - BALL

Of course he always has a ball between his feet, many times urging you to play with him. And you're not a professional player at his level, but you certainly manage to distract him in other ways...

C - CUDDLE

After a day of practice what better thing than holding you in his arms while you tell him what happened while he was gone or anything else that comes to mind. Your voice is better than any relaxing drink, so much so that many times he has closed his eyes without even noticing.

But it's the little circles you draw on his arm, the light kisses you leave on his chin from time to time that make his night. Because no matter how much he likes being around the boys, no one pampers him like you do.

D - DINOSAUR

The little dinosaur is supposed to be for your son, but ever since it was given to you, it keeps you company when you're alone. Or even to annoy Jordan as he often complains that you spend more time hugging that soft toy than he does.

"I swear, as soon as he's born, I'll let him have it"

"If you say so" Jordan strokes your eight month old baby bump with a smile on his face, "did you hear mommy? She'll leave you her toys" he leaves a light kiss on your belly as you gasp hitting him with the dinosaur head.

"You're really mean Jordan, go away I never want to see you again" you put on a fake pout as he looks at you softly getting up to be at your height.

"How about you keep this dinosaur, and our son gets another one? You can match"

"I don't need a stuffed animal, I'm a big girl now" but you don't believe it either, him raising an eyebrow clearly amused and you hitting him with the dinosaur again.

E - EXERCISE

Even on his days off Jordan had to work out, the home gym built for the occasion. And he loves showing off for you, when you go to sit on a bench and your gaze settles on his toned, sweaty body.

"Like what you see?" he sneers, gently passing the towel over his face and then laying it on your shoulders, you rolling your eyes faking nonchalance.

"Please my lover is in better shape"

"Oh yeah?" Jordan walks over trapping your legs against the bench and starting to lie on top of you.

"No Jordan you're sticky" you try to desist but he's already on your lips. So you draw him to you by the neck, the thin layer of clothing separating you starting to get annoying.

F - FAMILY PHOTO

Jordan literally loves family photos, a big one of you just on the fireplace. He claims that every year you have to redo it because you all change so much, especially the little ones. Plus that year there is a new member of the family so it has to be redone.

You smile, arranging the ribbon around the baby's head in your arms as a three-year-old runs past your side almost tripping.

"Careful" you sigh, "Come on come over here next to us so we can take the picture and then you can go play" you don't know how he hasn't gotten dirty in some way yet. Jordan and the light shirt obsession. It's cute but totally not appropriate for a vulcano like your kid.

Finally Jordan arrives after talking to the photographer about the shots, wrapping an arm around you briefly. He places a kiss on your temple and the forehead of the little one in your arms before stopping the baby who was about to run away again.

"Just two minutes okay?" he smiles, crouching down and resting his hands on the kid's shoulders, smoothing down his jacket and adjusting his little bow tie before guiding him back to his seat.

And at the end of the week all you have to do is choose the best photo.

G - GETAWAY

Especially in summer you used to disappear to spend some time alone away from schedules, appointments, dinners to attend, families. Nothing was better than disconnecting, just you and Jordan relaxing in a secluded place or being tourists in some unknown location. You did everything you could to keep your mind off your troubles for even a couple of nights and it was always worth it.

H - HUG

All you had to do was say that word and Jordan would drop what he was doing, his arms gently around your body. Sometimes you did it just for the sake of it, but most of the time you just felt the need to be held and he was almost always there to satisfy you.

I - ILL

Sick Jordan was absolutely something. His unkempt state, his bright eyes and his drawling smile made him so cute in your eyes even though he felt like crap.

"Stop looking at me like that" he complains as he always does trying to hide his head somewhere while you smile.

"I'm not doing anything"

"You're looking at me" his voice comes muffled from under the pillow as you try to take it off, stroking his slightly damp hair. You liked taking care of him for once, even if it meant he wasn't at his best. He always seemed so strong, always available for you and that was one of the few times you could somehow return the favour.

He got annoying but you couldn't really take it out on him, could you?!

J - JORDAN

You didn't use nicknames, his name was good like that and you didn't need to change it or not use it at all. And he loved to hear his name coming from you. With hilarity when you were having fun; with sweetness in intimate moments; and yet angry, joking, alarmed, every possible nuance brought a smile to his face.

K - KEY

You were having breakfast one morning, you were enjoying your bowl of cereal while his had become un-eatable by now as he kept throwing you glances not caring about it.

He continues to twist something between the fingers of the hand he has hidden from your view when suddenly Jordan reaches across the table, sliding something towards you. A key.

"This is the house key. I wanted to... well give it to you but don't feel pressured in any way" he doesn't know exactly what he's nervous about, many times he's left you his keys to get in or when he was out of town for emergencies. But you looking at him motionless certainly doesn't help him. Has he made a mistake?

"You're giving me the key to your house?" your gaze on that object, incredulous, not touching it as if it might shock you. "Really?" you always had his keys on loan, having your own meant he trusted you enough to let you into his space even unannounced, or that you wouldn't lose it and risk someone else finding it. It was a really great gesture.

"Yeah I mean I thought you could have your own copy, and use it even when I'm here" a huge smile breaks across your face as you stand up going to sit on Jordan's lap, him scooting his chair further back to allow you to be more comfortable.

"That's...I have no words. Just thank you"

"I like the idea of coming home to find you already comfortable"

"Oh I surely will" you chuckle as you finally take that key in your hands, snapping to your feet causing a confused expression to appear on Jordan's face as you leave for the door.

"I forgot something" you walk back inside using the key and going straight to leave a kiss on his lips as he stands up immediately wrapping his arms around your body. "Are you crazy? It's so cold out there"

"I have a key now" you state with satisfaction as you cling to him.

L - LAUGH

Definitely his trademark, you can recognise it even with your eyes closed. You couldn't be more different than that, you always trying to be as quiet as possible while he was always so loud. But you couldn't help but be mesmerised by his face when he laughed, from his squinted eyes to his head thrown back.

"If I were to lose my memory, I'm sure your laugh would make me remember you" a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him slightly from below lying on his chest as he raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Why would you lose your memory?"

"I said if, it's a scenario" you roll your eyes pouting, him quickly running his thumb over your lips to remove it.

"Why do you always have to be so tragic?"

"Ugh Jordan it was a compliment, it's not my fault you don't get it" and that laugh is always there to fill your heart.

M - MATCHDAY

Every home game Jordan is sure to have you at the stadium cheering for him. Over the years that has never changed, only skipping games when you weren't feeling well or when you were really pregnant and Jordan would be more concerned about you and your safety than the outcome of the game.

A little unspoken routine between you, him always leaving home early no matter the kick off time to review tactics and you sending him a text to wish him luck with a picture of you - and later a picture of you and the kids - wearing his jersey.

After the match regardless of the result and after he has done any interviews, here you are together sharing a short but sweet moment. You remind him how proud you are of him, the children want to go and play on the pitch.

N - NOSE

His nose brushes your neck as he snuggles up against you to rest; his nose brushes yours gently in an Eskimo kiss before he makes your lips connect; his nose brushes your skin after you have just stepped out of the shower. You often teased him by saying he looked like a tracker but you liked that little attention, the build up to what came next.

O - OLD

You always tease him by claiming he's getting old, sprawled out on the couch after spending half an hour chasing his son completely out of energy while the kid would happily take another ten thousand steps in the backyard.

"If I'm old then so are you, you know that don't you?"

"Yeah" you shrug, "but I'm still younger than you"

P - PIXEL

It's no secret that Jordan travels a lot during the year, your pixilated face seen more times than he'd like. But you don't hold it against him, besides being work it's his dream and moving around so much means he's living it to the fullest; that he's required and indispensable to the team besides being its captain of course.

You have learned to live the moments when you are together, to cheer and not waste it. And every time he stops to look at you while you're sleeping by his side or even just at any other time, he can't stop remembering how much those pixels don't really do you justice.

R - RING

It was a normal day in your life when you realised as a teenager that you had a thing for guys' hands, and if they had rings for some reason it was a bonus.

And many times you'd literally froze as you stared at Jordan's hands moving as he talked or wrote or cooked, the addition of that ring after your wedding didn't help the cause. You were brought back down to earth by his laughter because it was always surprising how one minute you were actively participating in the conversation and the next you were like in trance.

S - SAFE

You don't think you've ever told him verbally but you were lucky enough to have met him. Jordan makes you feel safe and you don't talk about the need to be defended from the bad. You know that with Jordan you can talk about whatever is on your mind without fear of being judged, you know he will always be there for you no matter what. You're immediately heartened by the reminder that he's by your side because any moment is less hard if the right person is by your side.

T - TOMORROW

It is something you often talk about, tomorrow. Everything is unpredictable, you never wanted to make long-term plans because you never know what might happen but only one thing you know for sure that you want Jordan by your side. And your idea matches his.

"You are my tomorrow and as long as I wake up with you by my side I will have a reason to smile"

U - UNIVERSE

"You are my universe"

"Stop it"

"But you are, why wouldn't I tell you" he chuckles as you hit him trying to hide your face.

You are one who is always on the move, always available for others but at the same time doesn't know how to react to compliments. You do what you do not to be praised or anything else but just because you feel like it and every time after a compliment of any kind any word would seem unnecessary, making you stand in front of that person smiling embarrassed making you feel uncomfortable. There, if you had to find a word to describe it you could say that compliments make you uncomfortable.

And Jordan knows this very well, but every now and then when you're alone he starts showering you with compliments and sweet phrases for the sake of it. But the truth is that he likes it when you blush, your cheeks turning red as you do your best not to look him in the eye or hide your face in your hands.

V - VOWS

It seemed years away, but your wedding day had arrived overwhelmingly. You couldn't wait to experience that day and those emotions to the fullest. The thing that had been most challenging for you was the vows, so many things to say without finding the right words. Everything seemed already said, obvious, not perfect and several times you had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown for that small detail.

But on your wedding day, no one around you exists anymore. There's just you and Jordan and your hearts full of love for each other, his thumb caressing the back of your hand for support. You almost forget what you've been struggling to write over those last few months, the words that come easily from your lips just by looking into his eyes.

W - WINNER

Winner takes it all. Jordan watches from afar as you joke with some of his teammates and the only thing he can think about is how that year just ended was one of the most amazing of his life so far, both professionally and in his personal life. He had achieved extraordinary goals with the team, broken records and set new ones. And then he had you who had given him a child a few months earlier and he felt like a winner.

Y - YUMMY

"Yeah that's yummy" Jordan watches his baby close his mouth around the spoon and then bring his thumb to his mouth getting messy with his own food.

"Why do you do that hm? Why?" his tone of voice only makes the child laugh as he waits for another bite clapping his hands on the high chair. Jordan quickly satisfies him seeing the same scene repeat itself, the little hands that have now become sticky and are getting everything they touch dirty like they always do at feeding time.

Z - ZOOM

His professionalism never fails to amaze you as you watch him from afar managing to handle questions in front of a computer. It will be the third interview in which he's asked the same things over and over again and you have never seen him make any gesture of tiredness or annoyance. And you are waiting for him to finally get up from that chair to wrap him in your arm and give him the right amount of pampering he needs to clear his head of everything.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 16 July 1835

8 ¼

11 35

no kiss fine morning breakfast at 9 20 - sent for Dr Belcombe to consult him about taking Milner’s health - he (Dr B-) sat with us ¼ hour till 10 50 - M- has broken a blood-vessel twice - ought not to take the school - not fit for it on this account - much obliged to Dr B- over with M- must look out again - Dr B- thought Mr Danby master of the York national school the most likely to help us - Had had Cooper before Dr Belcombe came - paid his bill for the ponies - keep breaking, and doctoring above £20 - agree to let him have my pony a week or ten days longer till back and leg be well - George to fetch her on Monday-week - a sad business! out at 11 - to the national school in part of the manor house buildings (what used to be Wolstenholme’s workshop) - saw Mr Danby - to come at 8pm - then called on Mrs Henry Belcombe at 12 for ¼ hour - then left A- there and sat 35 minutes with Mrs Milne then another ¼ hour with Mrs Henry B- then A- and I about an hour at the will-office - home at 2 ¼ - told George to get off at 4 or 5

SH:7/ML/E/18/0063

to Tadcaster - A- and I off in the carriage to Bulmer at 2 ½ to see if West the schoolmaster there one of the answerers of our advertisement was likely to suit our intended school - In passing Whitwell Inn ordered a pair of horses to be ready to take one to Langton on my return from Bulmer - at B- at 4 20 - found West in his school where all looked ordinary and going on well - went with to him to his house - examined him, in accounts reading etc he is solid as far he goes and I think would do very well for us but A- did not like the wife - thought her manner not steady enough - poor thing! I think it was the mere gaucherie of fright and shyness -  C’est égal - we are much adrift again  as ever - 40 minutes at B- back at Whitwell in 20 minutes and off from there in 10 minutes  at 5 40/60 to Langton - A- went with me down to Kirkham abbey - 5 minutes with her there - leaving her to walk back to dinner at the Inn (10 minutes walk up the hill) and then at Langton at 6 ¼ - all surprised but glad to see me - had cold meat, and then saw Mrs Norcliffe, looking not so ill as I expected, having heard from Mr West that her life was despaired of from day to day - she seemed at my having gone over - she is sadly changed but the N-s do not seem to think the danger imminent - Off from Langton at 7 50 and back at Whitwell at 8 ½ - A- had dined comfortably - nice little Inn - might spend a few days there very well - Kirkham would [afford] A- sketching for a week -  Off from Whitwell at 8 40 and in York at 10 - tea - came upstairs at 11 - fine day

[wincore]

sweet tooth | dong sicheng

pairing: vampire!sicheng x reader

words: 2.8k

summary: out of all the inconveniences a vampire boyfriend could pose, there’s about two tonight: a) him losing it at the next person who compliments his fangs, or b) you losing it at sicheng’s 100% blood alcohol content

genre: vampire!au, boyfriend!au, college!au, (tooth-rotting) fluff, comfort, humour

warning(s): mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, college halloween parties

song rec(s): candy - baekhyun // wish you were sober - conan gray

a/n: let’s pretend it’s halloween pls <3 also im sorry it’s so short and more drabble-ish but i wanted to write something gentle and comforting so!!! yeah ^^ also there is no plot. eep.

It’s two in the morning.

Or rather, it feels like two in the morning. 

A frat party is a horrible substitute for an actual Halloween party. The alcohol content is through the roof and the number of pairs making out is enough to make you feel queasy. You never knew horror themes had the innate ability to make people so flagrantly horny—you’re half glad you’re not, god forbid, single. Most of your friends were too busy, however, to organize the close-knit party you usually have each year—so here you are, with an invitation from a friend of a friend (of a friend). Your boyfriend might be the only one feeling more out of place than you are.

You glance at Sicheng from the pool table, the cup frozen against his lips while his eyes scan the room from corner to corner. You don’t do crowds and neither does he; though he does have the unwitting ability to charm any crowd he’s in. You’re not quite sure if he’s still unaware of that.

You watch as a girl you can easily recognize from your campus approach him, all smiles and giggles. She says something and you scoff, almost completely certain about what it is she said.

Sicheng might be unaware of it—but you are, and painfully so.

She looks at him starry-eyed and the scent of rum wafting around her. A part of her jacket is off her shoulder, a faint blush covering her cheeks that you can spot even under the dim lights. She’s definitely flirting—you know that because rumours go around faster than assignments in this university. Choi Joohee has a very public, very open crush on your boyfriend.

It’s not like it bothers you. Not at all.

Just a little bit.

Jealousy has never been your thing and you’re half certain what you’re feeling isn’t even jealousy—just a taste of alcohol and the proximity of a Halloween house party.

Speaking of which, the only thing harrowing about this place is the amount of alcohol everyone seems to be consuming—including your boyfriend. Ten dragged Yukhei home a while ago and a part of you is still not confident enough to handle a boyfriend with very pointy fangs and midnight cravings for blood (or juice, as Ten disgustingly phrases it). 

Sicheng nods along to something Joohee asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically on her and you assume he’s been zoning out the whole time. The urge to laugh surfaces and you swallow it whole. He’s so cute, even in this state. The lights dance across his face; candy blue, rich purple, saccharine red. The colours don’t help him stand any straighter, or slur his words any less.

You think it’s time to help your boyfriend out. However, the moment you walk through the swarms over to them, Joohee’s face sours. Of course, as the only competition (is it a competition if you’ve already won?) to the object of her affections, you don’t rank too high in her books. It made you a little upset at first, but you got used to it. (“She’ll get over it,” Sicheng had reassured several times. “Don’t worry.”)

People grow, and with that thought, you let it be.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joohee tells Sicheng and walks away, like he’s supposed to follow her.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sicheng, who’s had a very delayed response to Joohee’s departure. His head is tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded and you’re almost afraid he’s going to drop to the floor right there and then. This is bad. The thing about vampires is that they absolutely should not, under any circumstance, have alcohol. Calling your boyfriend a lightweight is beyond an understatement.

“Sicheng,” you call softly. 

He turns to you, taking a moment to process, before pulling his lips into a wide smile. His fangs poke out even when he presses his lips back together, a contemplatory look over him.

“I thought you left me here.” He forces a sardonic smile.

Drunk off his ass and Sicheng still manages to be annoyingly sarcastic.

You open your mouth and close it again. It’s not like you can chide him without letting your fondness show. The Adonis features that grace his face don’t help. Flushed all the way to the neck, a drunk Dong Sicheng is very rare. The last time this happened must have been at least two years ago (and though you weren’t there then, the way Ten and Kun freeze up at the slightest mention, you decided to not ask).

“Why did you drink?” you ask, huffing. “You can’t even smell alcohol.”

There’s a short pause.

“Because you were ignoring me,” he replies, leaning in.

Heat washes into your cheeks. You forgot how unrestrained he gets with alcohol in his system.

Sicheng seems to have enough consciousness left in him to feel somewhat embarrassed, standing up straight and fiddling with his thumbs. You slip your hand into his without delay and pull, trying your best to navigate through the crowd. Is an ordinary Halloween party too much to ask for? Just when you can finally spot the front door, Sicheng stops abruptly, making you stumble backwards into his chest. He smells like the old deodorant he’s been using for a year underneath the smell of beer and… is that blood?

“Where are we going?” he asks sharply.

“Home, Sicheng,” you whine. “You can stay in my bed.”

He stays rooted in place stubbornly, and you wonder what it is now. This is the time you have to wonder if you’re dating a (potentially) immortal creature or a recently birthed baby.

“We should enjoy more. You’ve hardly smiled the past few weeks,” he mutters.

Your heartbeat spikes for a moment, when he brushes the hair from your face. All this time and he hasn’t changed the words he offers to you in private, the care on his lips and fingertips. A room full of people who aren’t listening is the best place to talk.

The first time you saw Sicheng was in the middle of the night, in the dark hallway of your shared apartment building, blood staining his jaw from a bag he’d acquired from med student Wong Kunhang. (You’re very sure that’s illegal.)

Needless to say, you’d fainted immediately after. When you came to, you were met with a man with pretty eyes and fangs poking out his mouth and in a bed that wasn’t yours. There was no blood this time but you screamed anyway, cut off by the man’s hand over your mouth.

“Calm down,” he said, voice surprisingly deep. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

“You were planning to kill me?” you asked, panicking.

“I just said I wouldn’t,” he replied quietly, eyes wide and almost as stressed as you are.

Sicheng heaves a sigh, massaging his forehead. You shake yourself off the memories, tugging at his shirt so you can sit somewhere at least. The alcohol must have numbed his ears too. The low R&B tunes make no sense on Halloween night; even less when they’re played a few bars above the acceptable volume. If you’re not out of here soon, you might lose your hearing altogether.

The couch is slightly less stinky than you would have expected. (You grimace as you think to the last time you were at a frat party and in particular, the vomit.) Beside you, Sicheng mumbles about something you’re not quite sure of, a quiet rant with one-track emotions. It makes you giggle and for a moment, you forget the predicament of being stuck with a drunk vampire boyfriend who has just finished teething.

“Hey, guys.”

You look up to see Jihoon, the very friend of a friend (of a friend) who had invited you to this mess. It’s not like you harbour ill feelings towards him; but the guy has approximately zero ability to read the room. It’s mostly funny.

Sicheng makes a vague gesture that you assume means ‘hello’, sitting up straight so he doesn't look noticeably tipsy. You make light conversation with Jihoon, Sicheng’s arm around your waist tightening reflexively. You don’t plan on party-hopping, no matter how much Jihoon urges the two of you—seriously, does he not see the look on Sicheng’s face? He looks more zombie than vampire.

“You know, you don’t actually have to wear costumes for this, right? We didn’t set a theme,” Jihoon remarks, tilting his head to face your boyfriend. “The fangs are really cool, though. Holy shit. Dude, they look so real.”

Sicheng’s lips twitch but he forces them into a smile, trying to move as far away from Jihoon as possible. The fangs are usually not out and about in the open, slightly retracted during the day. The night, however, keeps him on edge. Sicheng hates the spotlight that only ever shows up for the wrong reasons, and he’d much rather graduate without having to deal with horny vampire-lovers. (It’s not that sexy; and you know from experience.) 

The way Sicheng looks makes you wonder how many people have pointed out the fangs tonight. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

“Thanks,” he responds, voice his usual deep baritone. 

Jihoon leaves after being unable to draw any more conversation out of Sicheng, some peace gracing you despite everything.

If you ever write a book on how to deal with vampire boyfriends, the first rule would be to never kiss him at night. The fangs are not as withdrawn then and they hurt. (The second is, of course, to never let them get a whiff of alcohol.)

When Sicheng first kissed you, it was midnight and you were at the convenience store to buy a few lunchboxes and instant coffee mix. You’d yelped when his fang had pricked your lower lip, alarming the worker and around fifteen minutes of (dishonest) explanation later, the two of you had left without buying what you came for.

After fretting for a while, Sicheng had kissed you once more with careful consideration—till the damn fangs got in the way again. It was sweet for a moment—like candy—though, the metallic taste of blood had invaded it afterwards. No matter how awkward or painful it was, your elation outweighed the rest. 

Kisses weren’t the only thing interrupted by fangs.

The turtlenecks and scarves certainly raised an eyebrow in your circle of friends. There was concern at first, then teasing and then a whole lot of inside jokes which made you want to smack each and every one of them. (“They’re hickeys, I swear, not vampire bites,” you had informed Ten. “Ew. I did not need to know that.” “Shut up.”)

Even so, Sicheng is warm—always has been, and not on the skin.  

You feel pressure on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck and you adjust yourself so it’s more comfortable. 

“Tired?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at his lie. Gently pushing his head away, you get up from your seat and pull him up with all of your strength. Linking your arm through his, you smile at him when he raises an eyebrow. It’s time to get home, you’ve decided and these are times when one vote is enough. 

When you reach the front door, stumbling out with your suddenly talkative boyfriend, the autumn breeze hits you. Under the moonlight, the rosy hue over his cheeks is clearer and even more so when he smiles.

“It’s like our first date,” he says. 

You smile back at him.

“You were so embarrassing,” he adds.

Your smile drops and you smack his arm, eliciting a soft complaint from him.

Your first date was the only normal thing in this relationship—a date at the amusement park on Halloween, a bunch of kids mistaking your now boyfriend for Count Dracula and caramel popcorn smeared over your fingers. 

Sicheng sighs, lowering his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a moment or two, the party music finally fading and Sicheng’s warmth seeping into you. You fix the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, fingers tracing over the material. His hands rest lightly against your back yet still secure. 

A kitten lick at your neck jolts you back to reality. You gently push him by the shoulders, finding his fangs bared already. He stays unmoving for a few seconds before closing his mouth and going back to leaning against you, breath falling in waves against your neck.

“I’m not your juicebox, Sicheng,” you snap, frown deepening.

“But you have so much blood,” he mumbles, his forehead hot against your shoulder.

“Sicheng.”

He sobers up a little, pulling back with a stream of pouting apologies. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Despite everything, your boyfriend is such a child sometimes. There’s a short pause.

“But wait, don’t go biting someone else’s neck,” you quickly add, flustered.

Sicheng suppresses a smile.  

“So I can have a little—”

“No.”

Sicheng pouts but agrees enough to follow you, the two of you moving soundlessly over the sidewalk. Being alone with him has always been easing; you don’t need a crowd for comfort. 

With fingers interlaced, you walk alone with him as the orange street lights cast shadows on the buildings lined up. A few more blocks and you’ll reach your apartment, get to push Sicheng into bed and pray he doesn’t throw up at your front door—and yet still, you walk as slow as you can as if the autumn wind will be gone as quick as it arrived.

The number of people shrink the further you get from the party, and you heave a sigh of relief, glad to be away from, what you and your friends call, the rich neighbourhood. The familiar path to your apartment, no matter the pricing, has much better air to breathe in. It’s past midnight and yet, you can see the city lights in the distance, the ones that never sleep—for the living or the dead.

Something runs into your legs and you jump onto Sicheng, who in turn flinches away with a strangled yelp. 

You look down to see a giant golden retriever in a white blanket which you assume is meant to be a ghost outfit. It wags its tail, sniffing around your boyfriend’s legs, making him giggle as he crouches down to pet the creature.

“I’m so sorry!” 

You look up to find a young girl holding a pumpkin almost as large as her head, an apologetic look over her head. Some part of you is happy to see a costume, considering you were robbed of yours. (Sometimes you dream of matching costumes but again, the damn fangs.)

“Piri loves people, I’m so sorry if he bothered—oh hey dude, cool fangs.”

Sicheng offers the fakest smile ever, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture. You sigh, apologizing to the girl before parting ways. 

“That’s the eighth time tonight,” Sicheng says, scowling almost. “I counted.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. Calm, relaxed Dong Sicheng tends to lose it at repetitive comments with only three sips of beer.

When you reach the apartment building, clouds cover the moon and you draw your jacket closer to yourself. You think for a moment about the inevitability of time and whether you’re even allowed to fall in love this way. You push the thoughts aside almost inevitably. When the time comes, you will have a decision to make—and after everything, it is love which turns people. 

For now, you can enjoy this Halloween night with your (literally) one-of-a-kind boyfriend.

You fumble around with the keys, Sicheng looking at you with sleepy eyes as he leans against the wall. He must be worn out from the alcohol by now.

“Hey,” he calls, the words more muffled than usual. 

You raise an eyebrow, tugging him inside all the while maintaining your balance.

“You know my favourite blood type?” he continues.

You shake your head. “If you’re thinking of feeding, I’ll get some blood bags from Kunhang.”

Sicheng pouts. “You ruined the line.”

“Huh?”

“Yours. Yours is my favourite blood type.”

Despite the terrible execution of his so-called pick-up line, you find yourself shaking with laughter. You’re not sure if it’s the late night or the October air—the two of you share the silliest of laughter at the doorway to your apartment.

Within the moment itself, Sicheng leans in to kiss you and your hands move to run through his hair out of habit. The taste of beer and the prick of his fangs makes you pull away. You look at each other for a moment before you give in anyway and kiss him against the doorframe.

October ends with memories—your first date, Sicheng’s cooking disaster, and now this. It’s blissful for the few moments the two of you let it be. That is, until Sicheng opens his mouth.

“Oh, by the way, can you apologize to Ten for me? I think I bit him thinking it was you.”

“Sicheng, what the fuck?”

October ends with proximity, sweet as candy and warm as toast—stumbling into bed with all that and more.

[gumnut-logic]

The Cane (Part 4)

@flyboytracy​​​ asked:

Steampunk AU: five uses for a cane and one time Scott used it for its intended purpose 😘

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aaargh, those migraines messed with my muse on this one. Had to fight it the entire way and the cane reference is tiny. Hope you enjoy it anyway ::hugs to all::

Many thanks to @janetm74​​​ @tsarinatorment​​​ and @scribbles97​​​ for all their help and amazing support of my crazy. And to @flyboytracy​​​ for asking in the first place.

This be Steampunk AU with a mix of John snark, a little bit of wee!Tracys in a little bit of peril, some selfless Scott, and a reason you don’t want to mess with Five or her pilot.

-o-o-o-

4.

“This is very inconvenient.”

Scott stared at his brother in the dim light. “Is that an attempt at impersonating Lady Penelope?”

John stared back, dust drifting haphazardly off his hard helmet and goggles. “As you’ve said many times yourself, there is no use in panicking.”

He had to give his brother that. A sigh and he assessed their situation yet again, shining his torch about the space they found themselves in.

They were in a basement. It was likely that they were lucky, as all indications were that if they had been in any other part of the building, they would not be having this conversation or any other any time in the future. The basement had a wall of solid bedrock on one side, the building having been constructed with that in mind with half the plumbing bolted into the rock. Unfortunately, the rest of the structure had been built on sand, which promptly liquified when the earthquake hit.

Speaking of earthquake. “How long do you think before the next aftershock?”

John pulled out his notebook, took a note of the time on the watch he had strapped to his wrist, and scribbled down some math. “They are very unpredictable, but I’m hoping this last big one will give us some time. Or at least, Virgil some time to dig us out.”

Scott fiddled with his transmitter unit. There was no response on any frequency he attempted. Either the equipment was broken or something was stopping the signal from reaching his brothers. John had already pulled his apart and attempted a signal boost with no success.

They were both covered in dust, but fortunately uninjured.

But, for the moment, they were stuck.

Scott was not very good at sitting still.

“We may as well rest so we can be ready when needed.”

Scott grunted.

His brother ignored him and wiped off a large chunk of masonry with one leather-gloved hand and sat down. “You know Virgil will find us.”

Another grunt.

“Sit down, Scott. You can afford to take a minute to rest.”

He let out a breath and bit his lip, but with a sigh, he did as his brother asked.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of dust and rock settling.

“Why did you come back in?” John’s voice was crisp, clear and calm.

“You were in here.” Obviously.

“But now both of us are trapped, whereas if you had run like you should have, you could be assisting Virgil to dig me out.”

Scott’s lips thinned. What had been his line of thinking? Had there been a line of thinking? To be honest, all he could recall was the thought that John was under a building that was about to collapse and he needed saving.

His voice was a little rough. “Virgil will get us out.”

“Hmm.” John was not looking at him.

“What did you expect me to do? Leave you here to die?”

Aquamarine turned calmly to catch his eyes. “Better than both of us.”

“We’re not dead.”

“Pure chance.”

John was always ever so direct.

“But important nonetheless.”

John sighed. “Reminds me of the well.”

Scott eyed him. “Really? You’re going to bring that up again?”

“Eternally, my dear brother.” John’s smirk was exceedingly annoying. “Besides, it passes the time.”

“I would rather spend time finding a way out of here.” Scott shot to his feet and began pacing around the space they were stuck in.

“If you disturb something that brings the rest of the building down on us, I’m haunting you until the end of time.”

Scott slumped a little. His brother was right. Messing with the fragile pile was just asking for trouble. They were lucky to have room to breathe, much less walk around.

“This is the reason why you ended up in the well, Scott. You haven’t changed in twenty odd years.”

Scott glared at him. His little brother had been six at the time, Scott only ten. The two of them had gone beyond the borders of the Tracy farm in Kansas and into land they shouldn’t have. They were exploring. John, as always, was a little more cautious, but Scott was ever running ahead.

It was rather ironic that it was John who fell in the well.

It wasn’t long dug, but the planks covering it were flimsy and the winds from the previous day had obscured them. John had gone through them as if the planet had eaten him.

“John!”

Scott found his little brother clutching his leg at the bottom of the hole.

It wasn’t a very deep well, but it was deep enough to put his brother out of the reach of a ten-year-old.

“Scotty, my leg hurts.”

“I’ll get you out.” He looked around for something to help John.

Perhaps he knew in some part of his mind that this could be the wrong decision. He had no rope and no real way to reach his little brother. He should get help.

But he couldn’t leave Johnny here on his own.

The thought was terrifying from both of their perspectives.

Perhaps he would have thought it a little less terrifying if he realised what could happen if he didn’t fetch help. Because once he found a long enough stick, he reached over the edge and while doing his best to add to the length John couldn’t quite reach, he fell in the hole on top of his brother.

There were groans and tears after that.

Scott didn’t hurt himself. John had been heard to comment on multiple occasions thereafter that it was because he landed on a cushion he called brother.

Scott countered that by saying he was lucky he hadn’t been impaled by a bony limb of said scrawny brother.

In any case, they huddled together for warmth for thirty-six freezing hours until someone finally found them.

By then, both brothers were dehydrated and starving.

The lecture from their father was almost as long as their time in the well.

Their mother, pregnant with Gordon at the time, took ill with the fright and there was some seriously scary time until the little fish was born a month later…a touch early.

Virgil wouldn’t let either of his brothers out of his sight for a good year after the incident. The nine-year-old obviously terrified they would disappear again.

It became legendary in the Tracy household for good or bad.

“So, you’re saying, I should have gone for help?”

Something clunked in the pile of rubble.

John arched an eyebrow. “As I said, you haven’t learnt. Yes, Scott, you should not have dashed back into the collapsing building. When Virgil finds out, he’s going to scalp you.”

“I’m sorry that my first instinct is to protect my brothers.”

John rolled his eyes, both original and artificial. “Your first instinct should be to protect yourself so you can protect your brothers.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Scott shifted his weight onto one foot, cocking his hip. “Fine. Then explain Bermuda.”

“That was different. That was saving lives.”

“You rammed a twenty-eight gunned frigate with Five!”

“It was firing on a sinking civilian target full of over two hundred passengers, including my four brothers. Grandma was not aboard. It was a fair decision.”

Scott had to admit it had been spectacular, the huge, blue-grey, manta-ray-shaped Five had reared out of the ocean and sliced the pirate vessel in half.

International Rescue had fished the survivors out of the water and there had been minimal casualties, considering.

Five had taken damage, but her cahelium superstructure was designed to withstand something as simple as a mostly wooden hull. Some gentle care from Virgil, an assessment from Hiram, and she was declared fit and well.

They had disappeared for a while after that as the rumours ran riot. Lady Penelope managed to smooth any ruffled feathers at government level.

Scott had both commended and roasted John alive.

“You could have been killed.”

“So could have you, and Virgil and Gordon and little Allie. Was I supposed to sit back and watch?”

Another clunk from somewhere in the rubble.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, you know how I feel.”

“Of course, I know how you feel. We all do.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Scott-“

But John was interrupted by another clank, this time clearly from one of the pipes against the wall.

“Virgil?” They both said it at once and hurried over to the rock face.

The clunk repeated itself and then started on a very familiar dot dot dot…

S C O T T

He reached behind and pulled his folded cane out of its sleeve on his back. Its metal tip shone dull brass in the yellow light.

He only had to tap one letter. Dot dot dot dash.

V.

Three letters came back in a hurried jumble of excited hammering. F A B.

Then…S T A T U S?

J  A N D  S   W E L L  A N D  M O B I L E.

S T A N D  B A C K ?

F A B.

Assuming Virgil was referring to the rock wall as the point of origin, the two brothers stepped as far back from it as they could.

Moments later a rumble and hiss of gears, the crash of breaking masonry and daylight suddenly shot through part of the rubble. This was quickly followed by a massive but familiar brass claw reaching in and grabbing a large chunk of rock, disappearing with it. A crunch of gravel, shove of rock…a shout. “Scott, are you in here? John?” Their goggled and fully armour-suited brother pushed the rest of the way through the pile of broken building, both claws fully extended.

“Over here, Virgil.”

Their brother’s head turned in their direction and metal shoulders sank in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

Something shifted in the rubble pile and Virgil reacted, his right claw slamming into the chunk of masonry threatening to fall. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice as the remains of the building creaked around them in warning. Grabbing John’s arm, he hustled his brother out through the gap past Virgil.

The engineer’s eyes on the both of them.

No doubt there would be a medical examination in their near future.

Shoving John gently ahead of him, Scott turned to keep an eye on Virgil.

His metal clad brother stepped back carefully, letting rock fall in his wake.

Then, as if the final domino had been tipped, the entire pile began collapsing in on itself.

Scott took a step towards Virgil only to have his arm yanked on from behind.

“Damnit, Scott protect yourself!” John dragged him through the remains of the rubble as a cloud of dust roared behind them.

“Virgil!” He dug his heels in, fighting John’s hold.

“He’s wearing his armour, Scott. You are not! Move!”

It went against everything. He had to protect his brothers first. But John was right. Neither of them was wearing enough protection. Virgil was.

He had to trust.

Trust that Virgil knew what he was doing.

When put in those terms the answer was simple. Of course, he trusted Virgil.

Perhaps it was fate he had issues with.

John dragged him clear of the building and the cloud of dust. Two, nestled on her landing struts, was a wonderful sight.

And then Gordon was grabbing at him. Alan was yelling his name and there were dusty hugs and clunking helmets.

But still the cloud…

“Virgil?”

As if summoned, his brother strode out of the haze, cogs whirring and pneumatic systems hissing, metal glinting in the sun. His goggled eyes searching until they latched onto his brothers.

Thank god.

A matter of strides and he enveloped his engineer brother in a hug, metal suit and all. “Thanks, Virg.”

His brother exhaled in a huff. “What on Earth were you thinking?” And so began the rant about worrying about a brother encased in metal when a building is falling when he wasn’t and could have been killed with a single rock. You idiot.

It went on for some time.

John smirked at him for the entire tirade.

-o-o-o-

Next

[brelione]

Have You Ever Been In Love (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:Smut,fluff,mentions of really gross jellyfish stings

This is the first smut ive written so dont judge me pls

JJ Maybank had never been in love.He never wanted to be in love either.He had never seen it or understood how people could die for it.He had heard the story of Romeo and Juliet hundreds of times.How it had ended in a beautiful tragedy.Love was an illness that killed people.It was like a parasite that ate away at your heart and brain until there was nothing left.It sounded painful and he’d rather be set on fire then fall in love.He had convinced himself that he could never love anyone in such a way.He convinced himself that he’d only ever love someone like a sibling.He could never really fall in love.He had tried lying to himself over and over and had gone as far as to write it on paper over and over again.Nothing worked.He was sick with the plague of love.The first time he ever saw you he couldnt understand the feeling within him.He had been working at a gas station.That job had only lasted two weeks.His shift was from 12 am to five am and he hated it.It had been three in the morning when you walked in with your wet hair,slightly bloodshot eyes,bikini top and shorts.The terrible gas station lighting should’ve made you look like shit but you looked fantastic in his eyes.

You had waved to him quickly before heading to the back into the freezer section.You were limping ever so slightly,your flip flops echoing through the building.He kept staring at you,trying to figure out if he had ever seen you before.He saw the bright red lines across your thigh and shin.It looked gross and painful but you didnt even care as you grabbed a pint of ben and jerry’s icecream.You went over to the counter where all the coffee,syrup,sugar and cream was.You made yourself a caramel iced coffee before limping up to the counter.His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at you. “Hey,do you have like a band aid or something?”You asked.He frowned. “What for?”He asked,pretending he hadnt noticed the bright irritated injury.You grinned. “Um...jellyfish stings.”You answered.He shook his head. “Youre gonna put a band aid on a jellyfish sting?”He asked.You nodded,sipping the coffee and putting ten dollars on the counter.He leaned across the counter,glancing down at your leg. “Yeah,no.That’s pretty bad.You should clean that off and wrap it up.”He suggested.You bit your lip,shaking your head. 

“Nah dude,i’ve got ice cream for a reason.It doesnt even hurt that bad like its fine.”You answered,grabbing the icecream.He handed you two dollars back,telling you to wait a minute before putting his hand under the counter and grabbing the box of rainbow bandaids and handing you one.You smiled. “Thanks,JJ.”You took the band aid,holding it up to the light. “Ooh...a yellow one.”You mumbled,putting the band aid in your pocket. “Do I know you?”He asked.You shook your head. “But you knew my name.”He squeezed the counter,trying not to blush at all.You pointed to his name tag.He had completely forgot about it.He nodded,biting his lip hard and looking away from you. “So what’s your name?”He asked.You grinned,grabbing your coffee. “Wouldnt you like to know,pretty boy.”You smiled before walking out.He watched as you left,letting out a loud sigh.He let out a laugh,not understanding the feeling that was taking over his body.He stared down at the counter for a while,scolding himself for falling apart like that.Flirting had always come easy for him.He’d never met a girl that he couldnt charm with his looks and his words,except Kie,of course.

But even she had blushed a good amount of times when they first met.But not you with your jellyfish sting and your ben and jerrys icecream.It wasnt until about a month later that he had seen you again.He had lost his job at the gas station because he was caught smoking weed inside.He wondered if maybe you had come by the gas station looking for him since he had left.He kept thinking about you,wondering your name or if you had ever cleaned off your jellyfish sting.He had been at The Wreck as he stuffed his face with french fries and listened to John B. and Pope’s rambling about something scientific.The fries nearly fell out of his mouth when he saw you walk up to the counter. “Hey,hoe.”You grinned at Kiara.She gasped. “Dude-oh my god its been like three months!”She exclaimed,coming out from behind the counter and hugging you. “Hey.”You repeated,pulling out of the hug.She said something quickly to her dad before literally dragging you over to the table where your other friends sat. “This is (Y/N)!”She told them excitedly,shaking your arm.You grinned at JJ before saying hi to the group.Kiara explained that you had been staying with your father in Massachusetts for the last couple of months and that you two had been friends since like seventh grade and whatever.

JJ hadnt been paying attention to her,only focusing on you.The overwhelming desire to laugh and hug you was almost scary.He even knew your name now.It fit you quite well.You looked like a (Y/N) for sure. “JJ,what do you think?”Kiara asked.He frowned a bit,trying to figure out what she was asking. “What?”He asked.Pope laughed. “Dude,pay attention for once.”He sighed.Kiara rolled her eyes. “I asked if you think (Y/N) should join us on the boat today.”She repeated.JJ nodded. “Yeah,yeah definitely.”He blushed,trying not to look at you.You grinned. “Cool,I’ll see you guys later then.”You winked at JJ before getting up and walking out of the restaurant.Kiara snorted in a laugh as JJ smacked his head down. “Have you two met before?”She asked.JJ nodded,picking his head back up.Kiara gasped. “Oh god-did you two hook up?Please tell me you did not hook up with my best friend.”Kiara waited nervously for his answer.JJ shook his head. “I wish.”He replied.He ignored the feeling,telling himself that he was just too high for social interaction and that was the only reason he felt the way he did.

He hadnt smoked in hours.His mind wandered back to a month ago when he had seen you the first time.He had been getting dressed at John.B’s that afternoon,trying to make himself look nice for when he saw you.He had changed his sleeveless shirt for the first time in two days.He had taken a quick shower,brushed his hair and stared at himself for a good five minutes.He wasnt in love.There was nothing wrong with wanting to look nice for someone.Kiara had basically yelled at JJ on how to get to your house. “No-no you gotta-OH MY GOD JUST LET ME DRIVE!”She had shouted and ended up driving the boat.She pulled up to your personal dock,waiting for you after sending you a text.Your house had chipped paint and six chickens roaming around your backyard.His heart sped up,breaths getting a bit fast as he waited for you to come out.When you did he couldnt look away from you.Your hair was tied up,a yellow highwaisted bikini tight on your skin.You walked past your chickens,down the hill and towards the dock. “Hey,loser.”You grinned at Kie.She held out her hand to help you on to the boat,pulling you so you were sitting next to her. “Hey (Y/N).”Pope greeted. 

“Hey.”You grinned,fist bumping the boy.You leaned back,raising an eyebrow at JJ.He hadnt noticed that you were staring,to busy looking down where his eyes shouldn't have been.He licked his lips,looking back up at your face.You winked at him,causing him to blush and look away.He spent the whole day sending glances your way,glancing down at your thigh every once in a while.There was only some scratches left and a small patch of peeling skin on your thigh where the awful sting had once been. “So why were you in Massachusetts?”Pope asked,leaning his head on his folded shirt.You laughed quietly.That was a fun thing to explain to people when they had asked. “Well,you see,my half sister’s step mother’s cousin was getting married so I got invited.Obviously I decided to go but then like I got stuck up there because there was like a tropical storm or some shit and the wind was going ninety miles per hour and there were flash floods and the power went out and full as buildings like collapsed

.It was a huge mess and then like a couple days later it was negative ten degrees and all the water froze and I couldn't drive out cause of it and it sucked and I think someone like manifested bad luck on me.So it kind of sucked but then I got boba coffee in boston and I went to an aquarium and all these museums.There are so many hospitals in Massachusetts like it's kind of crazy.But then I ended up somewhere in the suburbs on my way back and I slept in my car for like four days until I got my car fixed and then I got here like a few days ago.”You explained,looking over at JJ to make sure he wouldn't say anything.Pope nodded. “So what museums did you go to?”He asked,continuing your conversation.JJ felt a bit jealous that you weren't paying attention to him like he was paying attention to you but he couldn't really be mad about it.He just wasn't your type.He wasn't in love.He just wanted you to like him.It had been two in the afternoon when they stopped in the middle of a clear bay.

JJ had watched to see if you were going to go into the water.He watched as you pulled your hair out of its tied up mess,nudging Kiara’s arm.She nodded,jumping off the side of the boat with you.JJ watched as you swam away from the boat around one hundred feet with Kiara close behind you.He watched the way your body moved in the water and how you kept purposefully splashing water into Kiara’s face.He listened to your giggles as you got back to the side of the boat,declaring that you had won.Kiara groaned,lifting herself onto the boat.JJ held out his arm for you to pull yourself up.He blushed a deep crimson as you squeezed his forearm lightly and thanked him.He watched as you and Kiara laid on your backs,basking in the sun while you had a small conversation.He had ended up jumping in the water with Pope,racing John.B and JJ to a buoy a few yards away.He had swam as fast as he could,saltwater splashing into his nose and mouth.He hoped you were watching.For eight months you had been part of the close knit friend group,officially being voted in in favor of everybody after a month of hanging out with them.While they all went to school you had just spent everyday at your house doing whatever you felt like doing.

You’d still swim and surf during the winter because the water wasn't even close to cold.You’d come around John.B’s house when he and the others were out of school.Sometimes you’d even spend the day at his house.Little did you know that JJ would skip the last half an hour of last period pretty often just so he could spend time alone with you.He’d announce himself as he walked in,his heart beating fast as he stood in the doorway.You’d always hug him tight and ask him how his day went and if he wanted to go surfing with you.He’d say yes every time and change into his bathing suit quickly.You’d get so excited to finally see everyone after they got out of school.Kind of like a puppy with separation anxiety.JJ would tell you everything about his day from what he ate at lunch to any jokes he had heard that he thought you might find funny.He’d tell you about a dog he’d seen walking around during P.E or an explosion in the teacher’s lounge microwave.He told you everything he could think of and made it sound as dramatic as possible just to see your reaction.You never questioned why he got back before the others every single day but it didn't really matter.You surfed for hours together before laying on your stomachs on your boards and floating across from each other. “JJ.”You sighed,putting your head down on your folded hands as they rested on your board.

He hummed,looking at you to give you his full attention. “Yeah?”He asked,waiting nervously for you to ask the questions you had.There were so many things you could say.Perhaps Pope had let something slip out.He had ranted to Pope about his feelings for you and how he couldn't understand.Pope tried to explain to him that he was in love with you but that wasn't possible.He wasn't capable of loving someone the way he loved you.He didn't love you.He just loved everything about you and wanted to be around you all the time.He wanted you to lay on his chest as he played around with your hair while you told him about your day.He wanted to take you on late night walks along the beach and collect seashells with you as you giggled about random things.He wanted to sing you silly songs as you whined for him to shut up.He wasn't in love with you.He just wanted you to love him and date him and be his.But that definitely didn't mean he was in love with you,right?You sighed as the sun beamed down on your skin,the water twinkling almost blindingly. “Have you ever been in love?”You asked him.

He bit his lip,glancing out at the horizon.He didn't know how to answer you or even how to react.You knew about his random hookups with tourons and how he was known as a bit of a man whore.He knew that you knew.But you didn't know that he hadnt hooked up with anybody since he had met you.He licked his bottom lip,looking back at you.You were looking at him,only your nose and eyes visible because the rest of your face was hidden by your crossed arms.He gulped. “Um...no.No.No i’ve never been in love.”He cleared his throat.You giggled,the sound echoing off your surfboard. “That was not convincing at all.Girl or boy?”You asked,interested in his story.He shook his head,grinning. “Nobody.”He answered,avoiding your gaze.You reached out,grabbing his arm. “Come on,J.Tell me about it.I’ll tell you first if you want.”You offered.His stomach churned at the thought of you loving someone.He didn't know why.Well,no,he absolutely knew why.He knew it was because he had a thing for you.

He didn't know what that thing was but he didn't really like it much.He nodded,waiting for you to tell the story.You sighed. “Alright.It was eighth grade and his name was Ryan.”You began.His eyebrows furrowed. “Ryan Field?”He asked.You nodded,making a look of disgust come across his face.You giggled. “You know what?Shut up because I was twelve,okay?So,anyways,he sat next to me in Geography and this was before I dropped out and I was barely paying attention.We’d pass notes back and forth and then I had his phone number and we’d text all the time and then we ended up dating.It was my first serious relationship and he broke up with me because he thought I wasn't like mentally stable enough for a relationship and I couldn't handle it.I guess he was right and it definitely hurt when it happened but thinking about it now I don't even know if I actually loved him or if I just was trying to like….convince myself I was happy,you know?I don't even know if love is even real because I used to believe in it when I was little but then I got into the real world and shit kind of just hit the fan.Its all just messy and it's probably all bullshit but it's nice to think that maybe there are people that we’re meant to be with.I don't even think I have someone im supposed to be with cause like,everyone i've ever cared about leaves me so now i'm constantly paranoid that you’re all gonna leave me so that's fun.”You spoke quickly and held up a peace sign.

His eyebrows knit together as he stared back at you. “You-you shouldn't feel like that about us.You know-you know that we'd never leave you.You know that we-that we all love you,right?You know that I love you and we all love having you around and that things wouldn't be the same without you.You know that,dont you?”He asked frantically,his hands tightening on his board.He couldn't believe everything that you just said.The atmosphere completely changed.It felt tense,the giggling and teasing from before had completely faded and was now replaced with nervousness.The clouds covered the sunlight,the air was cool and the small waves had calmed.You sighed quietly,sorting out what you wanted to say.He could've been lying about it.They all probably talked bad about you behind your back anyways. “We should get back to the house,looks like it's gonna rain.”You spoke quietly,paddling back to the shore.You sniffled as you walked on the sand,JJ jogging close behind you.

 “We should seriously talk about this.Why wouldn't you tell anyone that you felt like this?”He asked.You let your board fall to the sand,turning around with tears in your eyes. “Because I'm scared,okay?Im scared that he was right about me not being mentally stable enough for relationships and that i'm a bad friend and a bad person.I don't even deserve happiness or relationships or love,god,i don't even know if im capable of it-”You ranted,tears coming from your eyes when he smashed his lips against yours.It was rough and desperate as your shaky hands made their way around his neck.You couldn't even wrap your mind around what was happening.His arms draped around your hips and held onto you like you were a life line,pulling away for a moment to breath before kissing you again. “JJ.”You whispered,still holding him close.He panted,eyes still closed as his forehead leaned against yours. “JJ,what the fuck are we doing right now?”You asked,out of breath.He licked his lips,knees weak and his bottom lip quivering. “I dont-I dont know it seemed like a good idea.”He whispered,still holding onto you.You didn't know how to react or even what to say.You just stood their,hands on the back of his neck with water dripping onto your fingers from his hair.

 “Sorry,I shouldn't have done that.”His hands fell from your body.You pulled him back for another kiss,his hands on your waist as he pulled you impossibly close to him. “I meant it.”He mumbled before pressing a small kiss to your lips.You bit your bottom lip,letting out a small shaky breath. “What?”You asked.He gulped. “When I said we all love you...that I love you.I meant it.”He spoke quietly.He bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for you to respond.He was in love.Thunder rumbled loudly,the sky darkening as rain pounded down on the two of you.He didn't even care,only worried about what you were going to say.Your finger traced his jaw slowly,dragging your warm finger up to his temple and slicking his wet hair back.The rain sent shivers all over your body as you pulled him back down.He bit down on your lip,tugging it lightly before practically shoving his tongue down your throat.A moan ripped from your vocal cords as you pressed up against him.His lips traveled down your jaw and to your neck,kissing,sucking and biting.The rain became heavier and the air became colder. “JJ...J-we….we need to go-go back to the house.”You whispered,hand tugging at his hair.He let out a small sigh.

 “Please-please-I need you now.”He whimpered,pressing himself to you so you could feel how hard he really was.You bit your lip,looking up at him. “You can last five minutes.”You told him.He shook his head. “I cant-I cant do it-im so hard it hurts.”He whined.You picked up your surfboard. “Then you’re gonna have to run back if you can't last.”You smirked,jogging back up the hill.JJ ran after you with his surfboard under his arms,tossing it down in the backyard. “Hurry,please.”He told you.You grinned,seeing the van wasn't there yet.He dragged you into the guest room while you closed the door and locked it.He pressed you up against the door,kissing you hard and untying your bikini top.He let it fall to the floor before moving downwards.Your breasts were cold from the water but he didnt care,leaving deep purple marks all over them.You let out small moans as your fingernails scratched against his scalp.

You pushed him down on the bed,straddling him and pressing a kiss to his lips.You sucked hickeys along his jaw and collarbones. “Please…”He whispered.He had never been this desperate before.He had never let anyone be on top before either.You began to roll your hips slowly,grinding on him.He let out a loud,raspy moan as he gripped your hips to make you go faster.His mouth fell open as his head fell back.You leaned down to create a dark hickey on his neck.You slid his bathing suit down,licking your lips.He bit his lip as he waited for you to do something.He let out a loud gasp as you ran your fingertip along a pulsing vein. “You like that,JJ?”You asked.He nodded quickly,making you grin. “Words,baby.I need words.”You taunted.His eyes closed tightly as he let out a whimper. “I like it-I love it so much,princess.”He squeaked out as your hand moved faster. “Please-please-just-”His sentence was cut off by a loud moan ripping through his throat. “Please what?”You asked innocently.He bit his lip hard,trying not to let anything else slip out. “Please just-please I just need you.”He moaned,back arching slightly.You loved having this power over him as you watched him fall apart in front of you.

 “What do you need,J?Tell me what you want.”You spoke softly.He swallowed hard,sweat and water drops coating his forehead. “I-I want you to fuck me hard and-and I want to make you-make you feel good.”A half scream half moan left his mouth along with a string of profanities.You leaned down so you could whisper into his ear. “You wanna make me feel good?Oh,thats cute.”You whispered before sinking down onto him.He nearly screamed,eyes going wide. “Let it out,baby.No one can hear you.”You whispered to him.He let out a loud scream that was so loud it could break glass.You began to move at a hellish pace,letting out small moans. “Moan for me.”He told you,guiding you up and down on him.You let out loud moans,glad no one else was home.You were going so fast and so hard that you knew you probably wouldn't be able to walk properly tomorrow. “Im so close.”He whined.You went even faster than you thought possible,grinning as he let out a shout as he reached his high.You kept going after that,making him a bit confused but he didn't complain once he glanced down and saw as his member went in and out of you,your head dipping back as you let out a long,high pitched moan and squirted.He smirked,holding on tight to your waist before flipping you two over. “You’ve done so much for me today,baby,Let me help you out.”He spoke softly before kissing your forehead.His fists went onto the mattress next to your head as he began to pound into you ridiculously hard.Your fingernails dug into his back as he sped up,determined to make you come undone again.

It barely took two minutes for you to cum again,the juices leaking out and coating your inner thighs and his member.He pulled out,laying down beside you. “God,you feel so good.”He moaned quietly,arm around your waist.You grinned. “I know,baby.You’re so good for me.”You kissed his forehead.He leaned into your touch,burying his face in the crook of your neck.The storm was just calming down when you heard the door to the house open.You got up quickly,grabbing your wet towel from the beach to clean yourself out.You grabbed a random long sleeve shirt and slid on a pair of shorts,tossing JJ his pajama pants before tying your hair up to fix its messy state.You unlocked the door before sliding under the covers and resting on JJ’s chest. “Pretend to sleep.”You whispered to him when you heard footsteps coming down the hall.He nodded,placing his arms around you comfortably before closing his eyes.He heard the door open and a small gasp that had obviously come from Kie.He tried not to smile when he heard the loud click of a photo being taken before the door closed again.

[sadselfhelp]

Who I Am, And Why I Created This Blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Violence, Drug Overdose, Suicide, Psychotic Breaks. 

Take a walk with me, let me show you around the mind of The Sad Hatter.

There's a lot going on in my head right now, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of something. I'm standing on a cliff's edge and I'm either going to plummet or I'm going to fly. It's been building inside me for a long time, and I can't contain it anymore. So here it is, here's me laid bare, because I need to say this, I need to put it into words. I need to purge it all. To try and make sense of all of this shit in my brain, I think it's time I organize it. I don't know where to begin, but I guess I start at the beginning and make use of the ability to edit.

Before you read this, please be aware of the trigger warnings. And please understand that this is the most honest and open I have been, I really am stripped bare in this piece of writing. It’s not at all pretty, and am I not guiltless in parts. This may well alter whatever opinion you have of me. 

I guess the beginning is birth, right? But I don't want to rehash all that trauma, so let me speed through it. Twenty-Eight years ago I was born, violently. I'm serious, I ripped my way out of the womb, and tore that thing apart. I guess I can sort of understand why my mother couldn't love me after that was my first act, collapsing her womb. So let me speedrun this part of the story. Mum didn't want me, gave me to my dad who raised me as a single parent with the help of his parents, until he met my stepmother. Shockingly, she didn't want me either, but because she couldn't get rid of me she decided to physical and psychological torture was the next best thing. 

When I was eleven years old I snapped and didn't want to put up with it anymore, so I wrote a goodbye note and then snuck into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of pills. Spoiler alert, I didn't die. I did however end up in a children's home, cue more abuse, little bit of bullying and sexual assault etc.... I snapped again, but instead of turning my anger inwards, I became an absolute bastard. Ok, I still turned it inwards a bit, I had a lot of anger, and now I have a few hundred scars to prove it. But, it turns out that violence can beget violence, and I acted out in every possible way. Racked up a horrifying rap sheet, assault, vandalism, arson, and finally... GBH. I was supposed to get put in a secure unit (child prison – Scottish Edition) but I was always able to talk myself out of trouble. 

See, I was this tiny little white girl with big sad eyes and a hell of a sob story, even at the bottom of the food chain I still had privilege. So instead of getting locked up, I just got sent to a different home. And here's the really messed up part, this home was better. The staff were nicer, and nobody hurt me. My behavior literally changed overnight. I went from being charged by the police on a weekly basis, to never getting so much as a pocket money sanction. I will never excuse my actions, nor condone them, but after years of guilt I finally realized that the bad things I did were in retaliation to a bad situation, and though I wasn’t acting like a good person, I’m not a bad person, just a messed up one. 

I still refused to go to school though, because though I didn't yet know it at the time, I had severe social anxiety. I was smart, a little too smart to be honest, and I found myself thriving with a private tutor. When the time came to sit my exams, someone fucked up, and despite having record breaking test scores on the pre-exams, I never actually got to sit my standard grades (think SAT's – Scottish Edition). I'm still bitter about that. So by this point in the story, I'm 16, and legally an adult, too old for a children's home. I got turfed to a hostel, and the next few parts of the story are pretty fuzzy to me. 

This is where my mental health really started to deteriorate. I bounced between homeless hostels and B&B's for a year or so, until I got a my first flat/apartment. By that point, I was utterly fucked in the head. I was blacking out frequently, for anywhere between a couple of minutes to three days. I would come back to myself in sometimes compromising positions, and once there was blood. A lot of blood, splashed all over the walls. Then there was the time I suddenly found myself standing in the kitchen, about to plunge a knife into my own chest.

Nobody ever did tell me what the hell that was about. Or maybe they did and I just... forgot? But because I was extremely suicidal, a doctor finally decided to do something, and the police and the paramedics came to my door to take me to the psychiatric hospital. I spent ten months there while I cycled through various anti-psychotics and anti-depressants, and was 'rehabilitated into society'. The second I was out, I made the worst decision I have ever made in my life. If I can give you one piece of advice, one lesson to take from my shitshow of a life, it's this: Don't move hundreds of miles away to be with the guy you met online while you were having a psychotic break.

I've never really thought of myself as a victim, but I guess I'm the only one who saw it that way. Ben, that was his name, Ben was a monster, and I didn't know it until it was too late. He never hit me, never lifted a hand to me, he never had to. He could put a knife in my hand and make me hurt myself for his entertainment. I had told him everything, so he knew exactly how to break me down, how to make me want to bleed. He locked me in a house and used me up. And when I had enough, and tried to break free of him, he would just tell the police I was mentally ill and they would smile sympathetically and give me back to him.

But then my dad had a breakdown. My dad, who when he found out what my stepmother was doing to me, buried his head in the sand and packed my little suitcase for me. I hadn't spoken to him in a while until he reached out from the same psychiatric ward I had not long vacated. He had cracked under the realization that I had never lied about her, and the guilt broke him apart. I could have hated him, if it had happened a few years earlier then I would have. But I had experienced enough of the world to learn a few things, like how easily it is to fuck up, and that no matter how strong you are, you aren't immune to monsters. The truth was he was as much a victim of her evil as I was. She had manipulated him, played with his head, used his insecurities against him. So I helped him through his issues, the way I wished someone had helped me. That doesn't really make me a good person, it just makes me human.

But my dad got better, and found his footing. And when he did, he realized something wasn't right with me, and I told him the truth about Ben. My dad had left me to suffer at the hands of an abuser once before, and he wasn't going to allow it to happen again. He came and got me, and he took me home. He moved me in with him, gave me his bed and slept on the couch. After a couple of months, he helped me get my own place.

And that's the happy ending, right? All the trauma was over, I was safe, that's where the story should end. Right? I bet you're not naive enough to believe that, but I sure as hell was. I thought I would recover and that everything would be ok. I thought that with safety, there would come the chance to heal. I thought my wounds would scab over, and I would have my scars but at least I would be able to move without bleeding out. But that's not how trauma works. I had two decades worth of trauma, abuse, and hell.

I just... faded. I didn't crack, I didn't crumble, I didn't break, I just stopped. For five years I sat in one room of my home, drowning inside myself. Last year I got handed a lifeline, and now I live somewhere better. I'm not really allowed to live independently so I actually live in kind of retirement village of all places. I have my own house, but it's got intercoms and emergency cords everywhere, I get checked on daily by on on-site worker. And I'm trying to get better, I really am. It's just not that easy.

There's more to the whole story that I maybe should have put in, like the fact that my mother was a drug addict when she was pregnant with me, and that may have been the reason some of my organs didn't properly form and/or formed wrong. My lung split in half when I was a baby, and parts of my stomach are missing. Or that my mother is full on batshit insane. I could have had a perfect childhood and I still would have been mentally ill. Hell, I was seeing psychologists at five years old. Take my sketchy genetics, add twenty years of severe traumas, and well... I'm a little fucked up. Because a lot of medical conditions use acronyms, my full list of diagnosis looks like I'm collecting the fucking alphabet.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Agoraphobia. I also have a Pulmonary Sequestration, Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, the stomach and lung issues. Immune Hemolytic Anemia, I'm basically allergic to my own blood. Plus, ya know, my liver recently decided to just fucking nope out, the pissy lil bitch is failing. I also may or may not have cancer, I don't know because I pussied out of the tests. At this point I am a walking, decaying corpse that is held together by glitter glue and bitterness.

So... why exactly am I writing this? And why am I even considering posting this? I mean, my problems aren't as bad as some other people's. We've all got shit to deal with, especially in 2020. The whole world is falling apart, so what right do I have to sit here pouting and pouring my problems out? Well, for a start, I guess this is my blog, I can post whatever, and it's up to everyone else if they read it.

So here it is, you have the backstory, so here's what it's all been leading up to.

I'm struggling. Like, really struggling. I'm stuck on this cliff, and I want off, any way I can. Whether I fall or fly, I just want free. I can't live like this anymore, because I can't breathe.

The fucking agonizing duality of being socially anxious and too easily overstimulated, and yet feeling fucking empty inside if you're not surrounded by action and noise. The world is too noisy for my brain, but my brain is too noisy for the world. I get antsy if I'm not doing at least a thousand different tasks, but I get overwhelmed if I try to do anything at all. It leads to short bursts of mania, followed by weeks of depression. But underneath all of that, under all the dramatic showboating, and the dark humor, under all the bravado... I'm really just sad.

Years ago, when I first came up with the moniker "The Sad Hatter", I said it was because I may be mad, but my madness was born of sadness. I'm just sad. I carry it with me where my heart should be. So I named myself Sad, and I put on the hat, and I wore my sadness like armor, turned it into an act, and made a spectacle of it. "I'm The Sad Hatter, and I'm mentally ill but that's alright, I'm going to be just fine!" I told you all I had my issues, and I'll come close to opening up about how bad those issues are, I'll give little chunks of information at intermittent intervals, and then two hours later I'll act like it never happened. I'll admit I was close to killing myself, and then two days later I'll post dog photo's and act like I'm all better.

I'm writing this because I'm sad. And tomorrow, I'll act like I'm not. But when I waver again, I'll come back here and I'll open up again. And along the way, maybe you're reading this and realizing you aren't alone in feeling overwhelmed. Maybe you're realizing you're not the only one who isn't healing neatly and in a timely manner. Maybe you're reading this and gaining some insight into the struggles someone you care about is facing. Maybe my opening up is can help somebody else, I really hope so, but I know it's helping one person. It's helping me.

This blog, it's about living with myself. It's about living with The Sad Hatter.

[himbeaux-on-ice]

Can I just say that Habs “fans” who act like Carey Price’s contract is somehow patient zero of all this team’s problems drive me absolutely fucking insane? Seriously. Buckle up. This is about to be a rant.

Now. First things first. Is it ideal that the $10 million goalie is currently uh, not doing very good? Fucking NO! I am disappointed as shit with that and I don’t like seeing him struggle. I know he can be better. He has to be better. Obviously.

However. That being said.

Do I think it’s an incredibly stupid look to spend several tweets complaining about all the issues Habs defence have been having, and then also griping that they haven’t started Jake Allen enough for how he’s performing, only to then for some inexplicable reason state that the FIRST THING, the first thing that needs to be dealt with after the new coaching staff have had ONE GAME (and zero practices) to work on things, is somehow “well, the ten million dollar man in net is weighing them down, that contract has gotta go!”?

Yes! That’s stupid!!

I think that’s a very ice cold small-brain take, and not just because Price is my favourite of favourites for as long as I’ve been a hockey fan! I have reasons, dammit!! I put THOUGHT into this!!

Here, dear ppl of Habs twitter who will never read this, are some reasons why this narrative you’re concocting is dumb, and why management/coaching are unlikely to think of trying to ditch Price mid-season to fix the current problems:

1: Time. It has been one (1) game under Ducharme. He has been able to run zero (0) full practices on off days with the team. We just changed up a major piece on the Habs chess board — why don’t you give it a minute to see what fresh eyes and minds can do with this roster before you decide we are fucked? This season is fast-moving, sure, but there is time for us to ride out some little bumps here and still make a playoff spot in this Canadian division. Have patience. Do you remember what patience is? Dom is a new head coach, not a wish-granting fairy godmother. Chill. Do you remember chill?

(rest of this under a cut because I actually LIKE Habs Tumblr, and I want to be nice to you all by not making you scroll past all of it if you don’t want to)

2: Jake Allen exists. There are a couple of things I like for what this means for the Habs. Firstly, for basically the first time in his NHL career, we are not in a situation where if Carey Price is in a slump, we have to go “Ah, shit, so now our options are let his stats tank while he tries to get the groove back in net, OR throw whoever the poor backup is out there to get murdered while we plummet through the standings.... 😬” We don’t have that problem right now, because the backup is... actually good? Oh my god, the backup is actually good! Thank fuck! We’re not doomed. If I’m Ducharme, I put Allen in net for a few consecutive starts to put a solid backstop behind all my fun experiments I’m probably planning with the skating roster (to catch their slip-ups, while also giving Carey lots of time and rest with which to work hard on sorting out whatever his issue is along with the goalie coaches).

2b: Jake Allen exists and is competition. Hell, if I’m Ducharme, maybe I even play a little hardball and say “Look, Carey, I don’t want you to be an expensive benchwarmer, but if things don’t pick up soon I am going to start whoever is doing best and you will have to compete for that net.” Related to my last point, when was the last time Carey Price had to push himself to compete for net time against anything other than his own injuries, and wasn’t simply always the default starter? Has that EVER been a thing? Honestly as much as I love the idea of him being The Goalie for the Habs, I also kinda like this idea a lot because I think it could really push him to a higher standard of performance. Maybe that kind of high-pressure situation (given how much he thrives in the pressure-cooker of the playoffs) could be what he NEEDS in order to Be Carey Price again. Worst comes to worst, he doesn’t respond to that challenge, and I am very sad but the Habs have a good goalie in net anyway, because Hallelujah, Jake Allen exists! God, isn’t it nice to have Jake Allen? Bless him.

3: Money. Guys, this league is so broke right now. Seriously. Seriously. Nobody has any fucking money. The Habs probably have more money than most teams, and that does not help when it comes to offloading large contracts. Trades are a NIGHTMARE both because of the flat cap but also because travel is complicated (especially cross-border) but also nobody wants to trade within their division if possible because all your games are against them. Who in the name of fuck do you think is jumping at the idea of taking the $10 million per through 20-lots-and-lots-of-years-from-now contract of a goalie who is currently struggling, impressive past record aside? What kind of astral plane of fantasy hockey are you on to think there’s a trade out there for that within this season. Shut up. And no, don’t bring up the expansion draft, this post is a rebuttal SPECIFICALLY to the people who think that Price and his contract are the biggest problem that needs to be dealt with RIGHT NOW and first on the list of ways to immediately remedy the team’s struggles.

4: Spite. Specifically to piss you off, bud. You personally.

5: Knowing how to troubleshoot properly. Fellas, if my computer is running slowly and freezing up a lot, do I immediately decide the first step to fixing it is to crack open the chassis, remove the hard drive, and try to sell that hard drive to someone to see if I can enough money back to somehow get a better hard drive for less? No, dipshit. That’s not how troubleshooting a complex system works works. It’s the same with hockey teams. Ah, my star goalie is not performing great. This situation is deeply less than ideal. If you’re actually good at troubleshooting, the first thing you do is not “WELL. I GUESS WE’LL HAVE TO THROW THE WHOLE GOALIE OUT. HE’S TOAST.” The first thing you do, if you’re a smart coach, is you say “Okay, what are my defence doing in front of him? What are they doing to reduce the amount and quality of our opponents’ scoring chances? Oh. Oh, they’re taking a lot of penalties, and... oh, uh, some of this is very not great. Yikes.” And then you start your work by trying to make the defence actually work instead of running the same Pairs That Everyone Is Very Much Over And Tired Of, because your goalie is actually supposed to be your Last Line of Defence. And maybe during that time you give more starts to Goalie Who Is Absolutely Slaying It, so that when you start trying new D-pairs and they inevitably have some mistakes, it doesn’t immediately turn into an Oh God Holy Fuck moment every time, because that last line of defence backstopping them is solid. The reason you need to deal with defense first is because a) You know you have a reliable goalie (Allen) in your pocket right now if you need him. What you don’t have is a whole-ass proven and tested and practiced Backup D-Core you can swap into the roster in front of your goalies to make their lives easier. Fix your defense and it WILL improve your goalies, even marginally. Defrag the hard drive before you ask why it’s not working. and b) If you need to go looking for any new D-men to solve the issues, those are WAY easier and cheaper to find than top-tier goalies, and you always want to start any troubleshooting process with trying the simplest solutions first to hopefully save time and money. The better that D-core is, the less it fucks your team over if the goalie isn’t feeling themselves, because the D is going to stop more of those pucks before they ever even become the goalie’s problem. FIX. DEFENCE. FIRST. Then try to train your goalie back into top form. THEN explore your other options.

6: The vicious cycle. Guys. We literally do this once every year or second year. EVERY time Carey Price has a slump, this fanbase gets into a tizzy like the Bell Centre is burning down and he was the one with the matches. And what ALWAYS happens literally within the year, every single time? He gets his mojo back like he did last summer in the bubble and goes on a heater and everybody goes “JESUS PRICE!!!! 🙌” and is ready to name their firstborn kid after him. Until eventually that performance becomes unsustainable, and he becomes mortal again, and suddenly he’s The Real Problem With This Franchise once again. I know he’s the guy they chose to build the team around instead of a superstar forward, but oh my god folks. You’d think he was the only player on the team. Guys, I feel like fucking Sisyphus pushing a blue blanc et rouge boulder up Mont Royal once a year with this shit. This man’s entire career has been a constant seesaw narrative between “Carey Price is our saviour!” and “Carey Price should be exiled to Nome!!!!” from parts of this fanbase, I swear. Look, slumps suck, but for once we are actually lucky enough to be in a position where this team, for the first time in YEARS, does not solelylive or die by the inscrutable magical cycles of Carey Price’s goalie powers — because when he has to step back and work to get back into his groove, there is FINALLY a SECOND GUY who is GREAT. Honestly, given that the state of this team for so long has been “they will go as far as Carey Price can take them” and he has put in a pretty fucking decent job of it despite all of the team’s other struggles, I feel like it is owed it to the guy to be like “Okay, well, we have somebody else solid to fill the net right now, and a chance to really figure out our defence and special teams with this new coach. Why don’t you take a step back and work your ass off at trying to get back into the form I know you can still perform at, and we’ll go from there?”

Anyway. Some parts of this fanbase have been waiting for a fresh excuse to claim Price is overrated, washed-up, and to blame for all of this team’s flaws and ills ever since he signed that contract, if not since the start of his NHL career. Just unreal how nasty some of this fanbase is willing to be about a player who is ON. YOUR. TEAM.

Am I saying he is beyond critique of his play and can do no wrong and his contract is perfect? No! I want this team to have the best goaltending it can get, and I want them to kick ass and take names. The difference is, I still believe Carey Price is a part of that winning formula, and I also think Twitter is overflowing with idiots who just repeat what everybody else says. He’s still a better goalie than your ass would be if I stuck you out there to stop shots from Mark Schieffle, for crap’s sake.

“The first thing that has to go is Carey Price’s contract 🤪”. Shut the fuck up. You are actively making other people stupider by talking. Go eat sand. Good day.

[steve0discusses]

S4 Ep38: Awkward Hugs Episode

Remember how excited I was about the good storyboarder? Well this episode has the opposite of that. It looks a lot like they hit some sort of crunch and this entire episode got shipped to Singapore so that some other animation studio could deal with their problems. It’s got some jank.

And like listen, animation is hard, there’s a billion moving plates, there’s a lot of office politics and deadlines, this season in particular is very long and complicated, and I don’t know exactly what happened this episode, but it just...wow it’s a lot funny poorly animated moments and I was here for it.

So first off, Dartz died! I didn’t even cap it because it happened so quickly. He was standing there, a portal opened up, and then the Great Leviathan kind of munched him up in 3 frames of animation, and then dissolved away back into the portal. It was card shenanigans anyway, and I don’t go over card games here--just trust me he played cards, he lost, he died.

Once Dartz died, this happened, in the one place Roland thought he was safe.

Roland has spent a good amount of this time debating whether or not to go inside and now he’s got a situation. Is it safer in Soul Hut than...whatever this is?

I wouldn’t know either.

So he just decides to uh...look directly at it while everyone else deals with orb hell.

The three knights of Atlantis decide to revive the respective owners of their cards.

So Pegasus just has to sit back, relax, and find some other unsuspecting orb person to share his fanfiction deep cuts with.

PS, that was not an exaggeration on the lazy PowerPoint spiral-in transition--this episode was a marvel of “Oh crap we ran out of time!” last-ditch effort animation and I approve.

(read more under the cut)

And if you thought they were done being orbs now that we’re on a physical mortal plane--nah.

This is the closest Pharoah and Yugi have ever gotten to a physical hug. Just throwing it out there that this is the only time they’ve touched in any way as two separate entities. Also--I like that this is the same way Yugi holds his necklace when he’s talking to Pharaoh. Cute little parallel there.

And as I mentioned, there were a lot of people just hugging it out as if it’s the last episode of the season. First off, one of the most huggy people on this show, which I’m still surprised is the Kaibas.

(he did legitimately pretend to be asleep by the way, because as he was spiraling out of hell he was like “whaoooahahhh”)

So I guess if Mokuba, Tristan, and Tea woke up without being orbs first, then that really does mean they never died 2 episodes ago.

Fine. This is fine. I’ll append my headcanon.

...so Dartz really was just so tired of them that he decided to make them take a nap, huh? That Mokuba was so annoying he was just like “I’m turning them off ok? Not like OFF off, not killing them or anything, that would be rude--I just don’t like small one.”

Meanwhile Tea has a Yugi appreciation moment where she’s reunited with her very confusing relationship. Which is how she likes it best. Undefined in nearly every sort of way. A relationship made entirely out of subtext.

(and honestly, relationships made entirely out of subtext is like 75% of the teen dating experience, which I may have mentioned before, but I do not remember if I have because 2020 has wiped my memory of just so many things.)

I vocally, out-loud, went “Ahhhh!” at the screen because I FORGOT how big his eyes are. They are so wild usually, but with the animation B-team at the helm, I was just not ready for the eyes to return. Yugi’s eyes are just...an abomination in every way and I forget when I see them consistently. I get used to them, I get over it...But when I go an entire season without these hell eyes staring directly at me every five seconds, then it’s like I’ve seen them for the first time.

I’m glad he’s back but man his eyes.

Those eyes.

Anyway, on for some more awkward hugs. First off, Yugi’s visceral reaction to his pretty-much-a-wife-at-this-point giving him a...hug?

(she’s kneeling, by the way. Bro mentioned that it looks like she picked him up and held him entirely by the neck--that would have been great, and I would never doubt Tea’s strength, but she had the decency not to do that.)

And then to Yugi’s just overall confusion to whatever Joey Wheeler defines as a hug.

I am 5 feet 0 inches tall, much like Yugi, and can confirm that yes, some people do hug me like this.

This type of hug should be illegal, it’s very disorienting.

Then, Yugi got to do what he does best.

The FIRST THING he does from coming back from death is immediately hold back information. Mm. Yugi at his finest.

At the point that you’d assume that someone in this room would indicate that maybe this hell vortex is like...a situation...Roland comes in the room screaming for Kaiba to come outside and tell him what the hell to do with his life.

So they go outside and the city of Atlantis is popping out of the sea and flying directly into the air--which...sure, it doesn’t really go in the air usually...but I’ll take it.

And in case you’re like...wait, I thought Atlantis was in California, not in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, don’t worry, it’ll get even more confusing later on.

Also, this happened.

Most of the human race freakin died so like...not sure what we should be concerned about here. Gotta get that one last guy in Florida to board up his house, I guess.

I like that Tea is contractually obligated to beg Yugi to stay behind so she doesn’t have to live without him when...it’s like...Tea, your relationship is already a big ass question mark, and Yugi actually dying did not even mean you were living without him. He’s been around this whole season as Pharaoh, my dude. You have the only boyfriend who will not only never officially date you but will also officially never go away.

So like...earlier in the season it was mentioned that Florida had the pieces of Atlantis shoved in a museum so like...is Atlantis off of Florida now? Because the Battle of Atlantis was in the Bay Area, and Dartz lives in San Francisco, and they went on a helicopter and flew out to the sea so...

We GOTTA be in the Pacific, right?

Anyway, it could be that they’re worried it’ll hit the East Coast of Japan--which, yes--it would. That would also be way more pertinent to our cast of people who live in Japan, it’s just that if you’re doing a show in English that takes place in the USA and you say the “East Coast” it only means New York.

I don’t think the translation team got the memo, it was a very weird line.

Tea wishes Yugi luck instead of Pharaoh for once, and Yugi was like “I don’t know why you want to talk to me instead of the version of me with the fine ass.” and his confusion was kind of cute, but they didn’t actually go into any more deets than this.

Valon and Mai were almost making out with each other’s dead body like ten episodes ago, so maybe the team felt like they had enough practice to maybe almost approach something happening with their flagship couple? Almost.

But also...Yugi just has no idea that a few days ago Tea was trying to get Pharaoh to talk to her on a Caltrain by talking about wearing little swimsuits on a Florida beach date, and then Pharaoh got so upset he went to the tiny area between trains and started sobbing while punching a wall. Yugi doesn’t know this. I don’t think anyone will ever tell him.

And like...will anyone tell Yugi that Pharaoh woke up in Tea’s bed? Like no one, right? Like no one even knows that happened? The irony of how cautious Yugi is with this relationship after Pharaoh was just slicing and dicing for this entire season is great. It’s also probably unintentional, but I can still laugh at it.

Anyway, inside soul hut, Yugi got a little lost, and then his puzzle started glowing and brought him to the Macguffins from last season. Would have been really inconvenient if these got doused in the sea, honestly, and I don’t think the Ishtars would have appreciated it.

Also, this puzzle sensor would have been really, really useful in S2.

Meanwhile, I think Seto and Joey just stared at this glowy gate of hell thing being all “Do you know what this is, Kaiba? I was dead” and Kaiba being all “Hell if I know, I was also dead, I don’t know what this thing is.” And Joey being like “Well Yugi doesn’t know what it is, he was also dead.” and Kaiba being like “The only one of us alive was the dead guy who lives in Yugi’s imagination?”

And then Joey being like “Also, where the hell are we?”

So, frustrated that this obvious trap was simply too confounding, Dartz decides to explain to our dumb as hell cast what a “door” is.

Where we can then admire the sights of Atlantis! Which is mostly brick buildings and giant gates with snakes on them.

Also it would just be COVERED in dead fish but we’re gonna skip that and save it for what would be an extremely ill-fated Netflix live-action series that they will probably eventually make of Season 4. Netflix can’t help itself, you know it can’t. This is a spicy series. It would be terrible in gritty live action. Make it happen, Netflix.

I feel like the artist was trying desperately to fix Joey’s bangs and I feel that on an emotional level. We all want to fix Joey’s bangs. Why did they stop at Joey?

They find Dartz in some weird Gazebo which...OK. It was a whole lot of weird concept art that I didn’t cap because it’s like...nothing is terrifying about a Gazebo...

I straight up don’t understand Atlantis culture.

So, Dartz decided that he could just...use himself to raise the Great Leviathan. He had only one more soul he needed, and he was just as powerful as Yami--so lets just do it, lets just raise the snake!

MAN I just realized what a euphemism this season is.

Good job, Dartz.

Course this is how he spun his story to us, but he seemed pretty surprised when the Great Leviathan gobbled him up in the first 10 minutes of the episode.

But this is the story Dartz is sticking to. He, himself, will raise the Leviathan, himself, and he is very happy with his decision that he made all by himself. I mean, Dartz has been alive for 10,000 years, and maybe he got bored of immortality.

Dartz could have done this from day 1.

What’s up, Sephiroth? Nice little uh final fantasy thing we’re doing with this lizard’s face. I really can’t unsee these uneven man boobs (like what is that angle?) but it’s fine. Dartz doesn’t need hands or...legs...he’s a dragon now, like he can just bite stuff and fly around and stuff. Can’t be that bad.

But for reals, what is the dragon’s angle here?

what is it gonna DO?

Like after everyone’s dead. Is it just gonna...float around? Fly around outer space? Enjoy the sunrise?

Like what do dragons...DO?

Anyway, I’m sure we’ll never get the answer on why the Leviathan wanted to leave the core of the Earth so stinkin bad, but maybe--just maybe--this season might actually end next episode? Maybe?

Will I actually finish this season in 2020! I might! Y’all I MIGHT!

And for anyone reading these for the first time, here’s a link to read these in chrono order

[flowerslut]

DAY ONE: HUMAN/VAMPIRE  Rated: T for language Words: 2,824

A/N: It’s day one and I’m already cheating.

Fully kidding. It’s entirely on-theme. It just so happens to be the first chapter of the brain-worm that dug itself into my skull a couple of weeks ago. The human Jasper/vampire Alice fit that I never thought I’d write. Enjoy the drama.

EDGE OF IT ALL

With a deep breath he inhaled steadily, closing his eyes as he let the cigarette calm him. Upon his exhale he opened his eyes, watching as the smoke mingled with his own breath, both evaporating in the cold air. The rain fell hard around him as he leaned up against the wet bark of the tree.

He wasn’t entirely out of the way of the constant downpour; his clothes were dampened with a fine layer of rainwater. But the slight cover that the canopy of trees provided him with was the best amount of protection he was going to get out there. He ignored the shiver that fought it’s way free and pulled his jacket tighter around him.

It was bad enough that he’d cut class, but now there was no way he’d be able to return in time for sixth period. And even if he did—if he stomped out his cigarette and rushed back to the math and sciences building—Ms. Sanborn would see his drenched state, smell the smoke on his clothes and send him straight to the office. He didn’t want them to call Wilson any more than he was sure the man wanted to be interrupted on a work day.

At the breakfast table he’d pleaded with Jasper to not cause any trouble today; his foster father had an important meeting with the nurses under his charge at the clinic today. The portly man wasn’t a nurse himself—administrative duties had been his calling, apparently—but sometimes the man spoke with an air that made Jasper wonder if the guy really thought he was as important as the health care providers that actually treated patients.

It annoyed Jasper on a good day, but today it had been borderline intolerable.

He’d tried, at least. He’d stuck it out until lunch period and then that annoying fuck Colson just had to make some remark in passing that it was a good thing college applications charged a fee, saying it ‘weeded out the dumbasses whose parents couldn’t afford school anyway.’ 

Jasper hadn’t even hit the guy, even after the snob had pointedly eyed Jasper as they walked by the corner of the lunch room he typically occupied. He hadn’t even said anything in reply to the remark! Really, it was a testament to some sort of self-control Jasper had been scavenging together over the past ten months at the tiny school. The fact that he hadn’t ended the day suspended should be seen as a gift to Wilson.

And truly he wasn’t hurting anyone in skipping class. He was failing pre-calc anyways. And then after that was art. Which was so easy he could probably skip the rest of the school year and still score at least a B.

That was one of the plus sides to a school (and a town) as small as Forks. Back in Oakland—and even in Seattle, although he’d only been there for a month and a half—the school resource officer would’ve been out, scouring the grounds for him by now. Here, there weren’t even metal detectors by the doors. It was bizarre in the most liberating of ways.

Not that he brought his knife to school anymore anyways. Wilson and Meg had begged him to leave it in his room. He should’ve found himself grateful that they didn’t confiscate it from him fully.

“If it helps him feel safe, it’s fine,” he’d overheard his foster mother, Meg, explaining to her conservative husband a few weeks after he’d arrived.

“He has a history of violence,” his foster father had growled back, not even attempting to be quiet. Jasper hadn’t felt bad about listening in when there wasn’t much of an attempt at subtlety.

“Violence when threatened,” he could almost picture Meg rolling her eyes, dismissing her husband’s valid concerns the way she often did. The sound of a cabinet opening and closing had given Jasper all he context clues he needed, and when he’d heard the pop of a bottle he just knew that she was about to down her nightly bottle of wine. “What’s going to threaten him out here? The rain? A wandering coyote? Relax, Wil.”

They weren’t the best placement he’d been given, in Jasper’s opinion. But they were far from the worst.

Tugging his damp sleeves further down his arms Jasper reached to his back pocket and retrieved another cigarette from the carton. He’d already told himself that his previous one would be his last one of the day, but then he’d realized that there was no way he was going to make it back to school. Might as well light up a couple more.

When he started flicking his lighter, he swore loudly when a thick raindrop fell through the canopy and perfectly into the lighter’s opening, extinguishing the flame he’d just ignited. He flicked it several times after that, swearing again when the stupid thing refused to even spark. Out of frustration he let the unlit cigarette fall from his lips, tossing the now-useless lighter deep into the woods.

Great. Just fucking perfect. He did have a shift at the new convenience store in town tomorrow, meaning he’d be able to snag a few more lighters before he clocked out, but that felt too far away.

Leaning his head back against he tree he thought to himself, attempting to come up with a decent enough excuse to get Wilson off of his back tonight. No doubt the school had already called both the house phone as well as his and Meg’s cell phones. The fact that his own shitty prepaid phone hadn’t rung yet was surprising. Usually Wilson liked to let Jasper know how disappointed he was in him the instant said disappointment struck the man.

His daydreams were cut short when suddenly something small came flying at him, hitting him square in the chest too quickly for him to dodge.

“Oof,” Jasper leaned forward, his hands moving to grab at his chest. He was caught so off guard that he had no idea what had even struck him, but whatever it was had been moving so fast that Jasper wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t bleeding beneath his shirt. The projectile had felt small and metal.

For half of a second Jasper thought that maybe he was shot, but quickly he dismissed the thought. He hadn’t heard a peep and besides, he’d learned from others exactly what being shot felt like, and this feeling—while still acutely painful—didn’t compare.

“Sorry!” A woman’s voice called from somewhere high up in the canopy, causing Jasper to almost jump out of his own skin. His head quickly lifted, searching for the source of the words. “I didn’t mean to throw that so hard!”

Who the fuck…?

It was there, on the ground in front of him, that he saw it: his broken, red lighter. The one he’d tossed far into the forest barely minutes before.

Someone else was out here with him, and she had an arm that would put most major league baseball players to shame.

Her voice was high, almost bell-like with her apology. It wasn’t a voice Jasper recognized as he wracked his brain, trying to place it with a face he knew from school.

“What—where are you?” He called out, hand still against his chest as he stepped out from the cover of the trees and lifted his eyes to the canopy once more. Her voice sounded impossibly high up. There was no way someone could climb any of these trees without a ladder, he realized as he blinked up into the oncoming rain.

Then, a blur of movement as something—no, someone—fell from high above, landing only feet away from him.

“Jesus Christ!” He screamed, unable to help himself as he stumbled back a few steps. With one arm half-way outstretched, he didn’t have time to stumble back toward the girl—holy shit she’d jumped fucking hell there’s no way she survived that these trees are massive oh god some girl just fucking killed herself in front of him—he found himself stunned into silence when his eyes fell upon the girl standing before him, completely unharmed.

“Hi!” She greeted cheerily, smiling widely up at him.

Jasper wondered if she’d thrown something else at him, because suddenly all the air left his lungs and he was stuck there motionless, staring at the girl in front of him.

She was beautiful. Almost otherworldly so. Her hair was cropped short around her face, longer strands sticking to her pale cheeks due to the rain. Her clothes were ill-fitting—and were those holes in the sweater that almost swallowed her slight frame whole?—and she was completely barefoot.

Not to mention her eyes were a bright, vivid red.

The instant his eyes landed on hers he took an involuntary step backward. Sure, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire eighteen years on this planet, but that one glance into her own gaze broke whatever trance she’d placed him in and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to raise.

It wasn’t that he’d never seen anyone wear colored lenses before. But this crossed over from weird to just plain eerie with the rest of her appearance alone.

Her face crumbled as he took another step backwards. “No! It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you, I—” but as she inhaled her face was suddenly pained, and in the blink of an eye she was suddenly fifty yards away, just barely visible across the clearing.

Moving slowly, Jasper felt his heart rate begin to skyrocket as he took another step backward. He had to move. He had to find his bag. He had to find his shit now and get the fuck out of there before—

“No!” And in another blink she was behind him, standing just between him and his ratty old backpack. “Please, I’m sorry. I know I’m going about this all wrong but—”

“What the fuck are—” it was too easy to slip on the wet leaves beneath his feet, and as Jasper landed on his ass in a puddle he couldn’t help but scurry backward any way he could. He was either losing his goddamn mind, or he was about to die. Maybe both. “Get—get away from me!” He yelled, swatting a hand ahead of him, feeling very much like a fool. Like a caveman swinging a torch toward a lion; a silly, feeble motion.

“No, Jasper, shh,” her eyes were wide then, and when she lifted her hands up toward him, as if trying to calm a wild animal, her sleeves fell backward. Jasper’s eyes locked onto the blood beneath her fingernails and in that moment he was certain he was going to die.

He stopped attempting to escape in that moment. “How the fuck do you know my name?” He demanded of the girl—the demon—the thing—as he worked to keep his voice even. She didn’t need to know that he was scared out of his wits. Truthfully, she definitely already knew it. After all he was on his ass in the middle of a puddle, not too far from wetting himself if he were being entirely honest.

He knew he’d fight his way back to the school if he had to, but somehow the idea of defending himself against this tiny girl seemed like a laughable idea.

“I’m messing this up so bad. No, no, no.” Then, her eyes flickered back toward where the school was. Jasper followed her gaze, but when he lifted his eyes back up, she was gone.

“Hello?” He called out, his voice shaking as he waited for her to reappear somewhere else around him.

He nearly pissed his pants when he turned his head back toward the school and Edward Cullen was standing there, staring out into the clearing with his weird, wide, golden eyes. Coming up behind him was none other than his brother, Emmett.

“Did you see that?” Jasper blurted out, desperate to know that he wasn’t crazy, that the Cullen boys had seen the demon girl, too.

Edward looked at him strangely then, and Jasper couldn’t help but think that the younger boy was seeing straight through him. But when the bronze-haired Cullen shrugged, looking around the clearing, as if confused, Jasper felt his heart sink. “See what?”

“You good man?” Emmett asked, jogging up to where Jasper was laying in the mud. The oldest Cullen had always been the nicest out of all of them. Not that the others were mean, but they certainly weren’t the friendliest group of people.

He’d known who they were even before he’d even started his first day. Meg and Wilson had told him all about the Cullen siblings and the Hale girls before he’d started. “They’re foster kids, too. Good kids. Maybe try hanging out with them!”

As if it would be a normal thing to do; approach the only other outcasts in the school and form what? A friendship? An alliance of weirdos? Jasper had never attempted to even talk to them.

Emmett reached down toward Jasper and he grabbed the offered hand firmly, letting the larger boy pull him up onto his feet.

Jasper frowned as Emmett released his grip. If his hands were that cold then Jasper’s had to be far worse. It was then that he was reminded just how freezing it was outside, as the rain continued to pour down on them, unrelenting. “What happened?” The dark-haired guy asked, also surveying the area with careful eyes.

“I—” But Jasper didn’t want to sound like a complete lunatic and he also had no idea how to describe what the fuck had just happened. “There was… a girl?”

“A girl?” Emmett raised an eyebrow, then his expression morphed and suddenly he looked like he was biting back a grin. “If Sanborn knew you were cutting class to hook up with a girl she’d have an aneurism.”

“I—that’s not—”

“Emmett,” Edward rolled his eyes, before turning back toward the school, “Come on.”

“What were you two doing out here?” Jasper flipped the script on them as quick as he could, hating how his face was probably bright red at the insinuation.

Emmett laughed, “Leaving early to drive this one to a doctor’s appointment,” he jutted a thumb over his shoulder toward his brother, “and we were nearly to the car when we swore we heard the sound of someone screaming.” He eyed Jasper pointedly, his eyes once more traveling around the forest. “Y’know there’s bears out here. You should be careful.”

Jasper snorted, reaching around and wiping wet leaves off his pants, then he skulked over to where he’d dropped his bag and picked it back up, flinging it over his shoulder. “There aren’t bears out here.”

“That you know about!” Emmett pointed a finger just as Edward cleared his throat, apparently tired of being in Jasper’s presence. This was what Jasper meant when he said Emmett was at least friendly. His siblings, not so much. 

“Let’s go, Emmett.” If Edward had started tapping his foot Jasper wouldn’t have been surprised. He reminded Jasper of some stuck-up mom sick of waiting in line at an overcrowded Starbucks.

(Yet another normal, regular thing Forks didn’t even have.)

“Need a lift?” Emmett offered, ignoring his brother and turning fully toward Jasper. “I doubt you’re going back to class and we drive right by your street anyways.” Then he paused, “You live off Hill, right?”

Jasper nodded. “Actually, yeah. If you don’t mind.” Truthfully Jasper didn’t want to spend one more second in these woods, especially if that demon girl was going to show up again. As he turned to follow Emmett his eyes met Edward’s glare. “What?”

Edward didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move. So when Emmett strode right past him, Jasper close behind, he couldn’t help but think to himself, what the fuck is your problem? as he walked by. But it wasn’t until he and Emmett were several strides away that Jasper swore he heard something.

A growl of some sort, coming from where Edward was still standing, facing the clearing. Jasper turned to look, suddenly wondering what the hell that noise was, when Emmett reached out and grabbed the blond’s shoulder.

“Watch out,” he said, just as Jasper stumbled across an over-grown root.

Catching himself he was thankful for Emmett’s outstretched arm. Clinging to it, he steadied himself, feeling like an idiot as he quietly thanked the guy. When Jasper finally turned his head, Edward was already following after them, his expression severe.

But even as they made it to the car, Jasper pulling his hood up over his head to prevent any of the teachers from recognizing him walking with the Cullen boys, Jasper couldn’t help but wonder what that noise was.

And who that girl was.

[creek4lifeman]

One of those days

Here’s another Creek fic for you guys that I made art for.

Title: One Of Those Days Rating: T Pairing: Tweek X Craig Characters: Craig Tucker, Tweek Tweak, Mrs. Tweak Tags: Canon Complaint, AKA they’re in 4th grade, Craig POV, Mild Language, Mentions of Anxiety and Mental health issues, Coloring books, Fake Tattoos, Fluff, Dorks in love, One shot, Tweek’s parents are clueless, Art in fic Summary: Tweek is having a bad day and Craig goes to visit in order to be there for him.  Even if that just happens to be coloring and giving each other fake tattoos. 

Read below the cut

Craig knows it’s going to be one of those days when Tweek doesn’t show up to school. Craig’s used to it at this point, but it still never sits well with him whenever the desk next to him is empty. He’ll never admit it out loud, but it’s days like these that unsettle him the most and he finds himself missing the sound of his boyfriend trying his best to keep quiet or the way he can’t sit still to save his life.

It’s the consistency mostly, Craig tells himself or at least that’s the conclusion he’s come to. He’s just plain and boring Craig, who lives by schedule and likes to keep it that way. When Tweek can’t go to school, they don’t meet up at their locker in the morning so that they can hold hands to the cafeteria for breakfast and when that happens, well, Craig’s whole day is then thrown off completely.

The only constant on days like these are that if Craig doesn’t get detention, which chances of that are much higher on the days Tweek isn’t in school, then he immediately heads to his boyfriend’s house as soon as he leaves the building. 

Today, it’s Mrs. Tweak that answers the door.

“Well, hello Craig. Are you here to see Tweek?”

Of course he is.

No matter how often he shows up on days like these, the Tweaks always stare at him in awe when he shows up. Almost as if they wonder why Craig would show up when Tweek is like this. Which only pisses Craig off even more at how terrible his significant other’s parents are.

“Yes, ma’m. Is he okay?” Craig manages to ask between gritted teeth. He already knows what her answer is going to be too. But if it’s the best way to get permission to enter, then Craig’s going to put in the effort.

“Oh, he’s fine honey. Tweek’s just going through one of his usual fits. Nothing to worry about,” she says with her plastic smile.

Craig clenches his fist but carries on. “He is? Then can I go up and see him?”

Mrs. Tweak hestates, like she always does. As if she’s afraid to be caught in her lie. Craig doesn’t know why Tweek’s parents act like everything is always fine, when it’s not. Maybe they are ashamed of Tweek and his bad days. He will never know and maybe he’d have been turned away if he was any other person. 

But he’s Tweek’s boyfriend, and the Tweak’s absolutely adore Craig for making their only son a homosexual. As if Craig had any say in that. A gay son made Tweek more interesting and by that reasoning, made the Tweak’s more interesting. So now Tweek Bros Coffee gets more business and because of that Craig will always have special privileges, such as being invited in on a bad day

“Come on in Craig. I’m sure seeing you will make him snap right out of it.”

Mrs. Tweak opens the door wide and Craig has to pinch his leg to keep himself from snapping at her that it doesn't work that way.

Unlike the Tweaks, Craig has done his research on mental illness and while he’s come to accept that he can’t fix everything, It took him a lot of hard days to realise that as well, at least Craig knows a few techniques he can try.

Taking the steps, two at a time, Craig makes it up the stairs in no time. He reaches the room with a guinea pig poster, an anniversary gift from Craig, and knocks in a familiar song like pattern before opening the door. It their way of communicating to each other that they are visiting each other’s house. That and it prevents Tweek from panicking when the door suddenly opens.

“Nnnngh!”

His honey is bent over in concentration at his desk, a crayon in his hand sweeping across a booklet he doesn’t recognize. Tweek mutters for a moment more before screeching and tossing the yellow crayon across the room. 

Wild eyes turn to face Craig and it takes the boy only a few seconds to access the situation. Tweek waits for Craig to say something, anything. Craig knows better though. Tweek doesn’t need Craig to tell him everything is going to be fine. He doesn’t speak. Instead, Craig opens up his arms and it’s so worth it when his boyfriend smiles, even shakingly, and then throws himself across the room to wrap his arms around Craig’s neck in a warm embrace. 

“Hey Babe, I missed you in school today.”

“S-sorry Craig, I just couldn’t today,” Tweek groaned as he slumped further into Craig’s shoulder.

“It’s fine dude. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

It felt nice having his boyfriend in his arms. It didn’t exactly make up for missing him all day but it did come super close.

Tweek leaned back and reluctantly Craig let him go. 

“It was those damn underpant gnomes man! They kept me up all night trying to explain their profit system again and I-”

“Tweek,” Craig interrupted and after saying his name twice, his honey paused mid sentence to gape at him.

“Relax. You don’t have to explain,” he assured Tweek but then remembered that sometimes talking is exactly what Tweek needs, “..unless it helps?” 

“I-it does, but now it’s too much pressure to explain,” Tweek replied after taking a moment to consider Craig’s words. 

Craig didn’t pressure him though. Instead, he grabbed Tweek’s hand and led him back to the desk he’d been furiously working on. 

“Okay babe, then how about you explain what you were doing before I came in?”

Craig reached out towards the book spread open with different crayons littered all over it and saw that Tweek had been coloring in stars and planets. 

Is this…

“A space themed coloring book?” Craig ended up saying out loud.

“Y-yeah, I was trying to color before you got here. My therapist said it could help, b-but I can’t seem to stay in the lines."

True to his word, Tweek had gone off and messed up in some areas, but Craig didn’t care. He was too entranced by the fact that Tweek had doodled them standing together on a planet while holding hands. That and well, what’s more awesome than a space themed coloring book?

“C-can I have this picture when you’re done?” Craig practically whispered but there was no denying the need in his voice. He never wanted anything more this moment.

“What!?” Tweek shrieked, “Why dude? It sucks!”

“No it doesn’t,” Craig immediately defended the piece of work. It may not be perfect to Tweek but to Craig it was. “I like it, so I want it.”

“Ngh, I don’t know man...”

Tweek reached out for the coloring book and Craig let him have it. Not wanting his selfishness to lead to a panic attack In fact, he had an idea to help him convince Tweek.

“Then how about this, I color one for you and you finish coloring this one for me?”

Tweek’s eyes widened in shock before staring back down at the coloring book and pulling it close to his chest. “Oh jesus, you really want this that bad?”

Craig rolled his eyes at being called out like that but didn’t say anything to deny it either. “Don’t act like you don’t want one of mine either.”

“F-fine!” Tweek squeaked, his cheeks turning pink and a small smile crawling up his cheeks. “But you have to cut out the page so that I can finish and so that y-you can pick out whatever you want, man.”

“Okay.” Craig easily agreed. He grabbed the pair of scissors stored in the cup full of other writing utensils before carefully cutting out Tweek’s page. They each set up a coloring station, aka Tweek at his desk while Craig took the floor, with crayons, color pencils, and snacks that were brought up by Mrs. Tweak.

Craig flipped through the pages until he got to the center and found that there was a sheet full of space themed stickers. No wait, he was wrong. These were those fake tattoos that applied to the skin with water.

So cool!

Craig cut them out for later and continued searching until he settled on an awesome rocketship shooting through the sky. Immediately he drew a version of himself and Tweek in the window. It wasn’t as great as his boyfriend’s depiction of them, but it would have to do. After that, he picked up a blue color pencil and began to fill in the area around the ship to make it look more like outer space.

After a couple of minutes, Tweek stopped what he was working on to turn to Craig.

“Thanks…”

Craig paused as well to stare at his boyfriend. Unsure of what exactly he was being thanked for. Maybe his confusion is written all over his face because Tweek continues.

“For coming over to color with me.”

Oh.

Craig tried his best not to smile.

“No problem, honey. Is it helping?”

Tweek swiveled back towards his page to avoid facing him with what Craig assumes is another blush on Tweek’s face before nodding towards the wall.

This fills Craig with joy as they spend the next couple of minutes coloring in a peaceful silence.

That is until he hears his boyfriend groaning again in distress. It starts off with a couple noises here and there but then it turns into full on frustrated growling after ten minutes.

“Babe? You okay?”

Craig looks at his boyfriend in concern, only to see him snapping a purple crayon in half.

So, not okay.

He gets up and calmly collects the broken pieces from Tweek’s hands and places his free palm against his boyfriend’s cheek.

There’s tears in those emerald eyes and it immediately makes Craig’s heart fall.

“What’s wrong honey?”

Tweek shoves the paper as far away from him, almost practically ripping it in two before glaring holes in the now bare table in front of him. 

“I just can’t gah get the color to look right dammit!”

Craig frowns before using his palm to turn Tweek’s head to face him.

“Alright, then how about we take a break and come back to it later?”

Tweek blinks at him before replying.

“And do what?”

This time, Craig doesn’t hold back his smile at the adorably curious but pouty look his boyfriend gives him.

“How about we give each other Tattoos?”  

Tweek screams.

“Craig! We can’t ngh give each other tattoos! We don't know how or have the right tools! What if I get ink poisoning? That’s a thing right? Or worse! Infected!”

Wait what?

Craig is at a loss of words until it hits him what Tweek is actually talking about. 

Real tattoos.

He literally has to grab the tattoo sheet and show Tweek what he means in order to get him to calm down. When he finally understands that the tattoos are fake, Tweek takes a deep breath and stops shaking so hard.

“All better, babe?”

“Y-yeah.” Tweek stutters as he takes the sheet and looks over the options. “You want to wear these?”

Craig scoffs, “Uh yeah, they’re space themed. Of course, I do.”

Tweek giggles before pointing at a space helmet tattoo. “You should do this one.”

“Because I’m Spaceman Craig?”

“Yep,” Tweek nods before reaching for his scissors to cut out said tattoo. “Where do you want it?

“Hmm, how about on my face?”

“Okay!”

Tweek stands up and leads them to the bathroom so that they can wet a towel with warm water to use as a compress and make the tattoo work. As soon as they are done with Craig’s, the helmet comes out perfectly, it’s Tweek’s turn.

“Can I pick yours?”

“Uh maybe?” Tweek says sounding unsure, “What were you thinking?” Craig looks over the sheet before settling on a rocket. Just like the one Tweek keeps in his room and points at it.

“That one.”

Tweek smiles before agreeing and points to his own cheek so that Craig knows where to place it.

They go back and forth, placing fake tattoos on each other until Tweek points at a pair of stars and suggests, “We should each get one in the same place to match.”

It’s cheesy but it’s also the most romantic thing Craig’s ever heard of and he agrees without missing a heartbeat.

They both decide to wear their matching star in a place that can’t wash off so easily. This just happens to be on their upper arm. 

They spend the rest of the day covered in tattoos and coloring. When Craig has to go home and shower, he makes sure to avoid rubbing off the star tattoo.

When the next day comes and he finds Tweek at school showing off the star tattoo to Token, Jimmy and Clyde, Craig can’t help but feel a swell of pride in his chest and the hope that one day in the future they can get a permanent matching one.

End

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 1

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Summary:  Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite​ for being the best beta I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. 

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Chapter 1.

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How many loved

Your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty

With love false or true;

But one man loved

The pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows

Of your changing face.

(W. B. Yeats)

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Ten years later.

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It was a warm late evening. Killian was at home dedicating his time to his most precious love: his spaceship. 

He had traveled the multiverse for ten long years. He and his friend Robin had left New Tolemac a couple of days after Killian's encounter with the Princess on the shore. They had spent four years away with one thrilling adventure after another, with no worries on their minds, and it had been liberating. 

One day they had landed on Althea-Seals, a quiet planet, always dry and warm with no differences between seasons. Neither seas nor woods, but never-ending yellow sand and rocks all over the surface. 

It wasn't a place full of opportunities to become rich and famous, but they weren’t looking for that. It was a planet inhabited by a mix of people from the four corners of the universe. And most of them went about their own business, accepting anyone who wanted to enter without asking too many questions.

Althea-Seals was big enough to hold a couple of large cities and some small villages around them. Places were called using numbers, starting with the two biggest cities named I and II. They had decided to stay in a village called VI, mostly a bunch of houses dug in the light yellow rock of the hill that dominated the south-west of II.

Robin had opened a tavern and had started to settle down. He had met a beautiful girl, Marian, and soon fallen head over heels in love with her. Luckily the feeling was mutual. 

Killian had become a supplier, flying back and forth from Althea-Seals, transporting goods in his ship to other planets, or procuring exotic items for his clients. His need to explore every possible universe had never abandoned him. 

But he had always come back: He had come back for his friends’ wedding, he had come back when their son Roland had been born, he had come back when Robin's wife had died after a severe illness... and that was when he had finally decided to stay more present in his mate's life, to help the other raising the little kid. 

So his trips had become less frequent, and when he had to go, he had tried to stay away no more than a couple of months at a time, always bringing back some curious toy or gadget for little Roland. The kid loved the stories of the journeys, trying to imagine the different places that uncle Kil had visited. 

The three of them lived next to each other, two apartments separated by a wall. Killian's was the smaller one: a living room with an open kitchen, one bedroom, and a bathroom, but actually, he didn't need more space. Robin's apartment was the same, with the addition of another bedroom. 

It had been a few months since his last trip and Killian was feeling a bit restless. He had parts of his ship’s engine scattered on his living room table. There wasn't an actual problem with them, but the last time he had gone on a journey he had heard some noises he hadn’t liked. So he was cleaning some pieces: Better be sure.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts. When he opened it he didn’t see anyone at first, but then he lowered his gaze and a brown mop of hair came into his field of vision. “Uh... can I help you?” He asked the young boy that came with it.

“Are you Killian Jones?” The boy asked back with curious eyes.

Killian studied the person in front of him. He was probably nine or ten years old, skinny, freckled face, eyes the same color as his hair; he was wearing casual non-branded clothes, with a grey and red scarf and a backpack hanging from one of his shoulders. 

The man didn’t detect any threat, so he decided to answer honestly. “The very same one. And you are...?” 

“My name is Henry. I'm your son.” He announced with a bright smile.

Killian thought he didn’t hear correctly. “I beg your pardon?" But when the boy just stared at him back with a big grin, Killian felt the need to clarify "I'm pretty sure I don't have a son, lad.” At those words, the boy ran into the house without permission. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” 

“What's this?” Henry asked, pointing at all the pieces on the table. “Are you a mechanic?” He seemed to be full of questions but less inclined to answer ones.

“No, I'm not,” Killian replied patiently. “These are parts of my ship's engine that need to be fixed.”

“You have a spaceship! Cool!” Enthusiasm was something quite evident in this young man. “I knew you were the only one who can save my mom.” 

That was enough. “Save? From what?" Killian was starting to lose his patience. Who was this kid, and why was he in his house? “And who exactly did you say your mother is?”

“I didn't say it.” Henry shrugged.

“Does she know you are here?”

“Nope.”

“I should probably bring you back home.” Killian kept his door open to invite the unexpected guest to follow him. It was getting dark outside.

“Are you going to help us?” The boy asked with a hopeful look while going out.

Killian didn’t want to disappoint the lad, but he needed more information before deciding anything he could regret later. “Well, that depends. Maybe your mother doesn't want to be helped. Come on, let's get going, you'll explain what you need my assistance for while walking.”

They kept a good jog for quite a few minutes in silence until they reached the borders of the village. Darkness was already surrounding them, and Killian wondered if the boy had spent the whole day searching for him. 

Henry headed towards a suburban district of II, one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city. 

Killian was expecting the lad to start explaining his story, but when it didn’t happen, he decided on a different approach. “What's in the backpack?” He asked.

“Just my stuff.” The boy was being evasive.

"You mean your school stuff. Did you skip your classes to come to find me?" He inquired.

"Maybe. Are you going to tell my mother?" He asked, but he didn't wait for an actual answer and went on. "It doesn't mind. She will figure it out eventually. It's impossible to lie to her."

"Mothers tend to have the ability to find out the truth," Killian said with a soft smile on his lips.

"No. I mean, she has this superpower, you know? She can detect a lie from a million miles away."

"Can she?” He asked, but he wasn’t surprised, he had seen many strange things during his trips, so why not someone with an ability to find out the truth. “A useful skill, indeed."

The boy went silent for a while. He was chewing his bottom lip, a gesture that reminded Killian of something or someone, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Then the boy spoke again. “There’s this bad guy. I saw him talking to my mom. I know she is afraid of him, even if she tells me I don’t have to worry about him.” He went on walking and then added: “She works so hard to give me a normal life. I want to help her, but I don't know how. That’s why I came to you. Maybe you can help us.”

“What does she do for a living?” Killian was still trying to understand the whole story, and if he really had something to do with it, or if the boy was wrong. But of one thing he was sure: He did not have a son.

“She finds people.”

“Come again?” That was unexpected.

“You need to find someone? She finds this person for you. She’s pretty good at it.” The lad explained.

“What if someone doesn't want to be found?”

“Well, those are the best rewarded, the most difficult ones. Sometimes she spends months going after someone, and then... Bang! She finds a good lead! She has those devices, you know.” 

“Devices?” Killian asked.

“Yes. You can search for names, or birth dates, or relatives, and many other keywords. Mom says I shouldn’t touch those things, but...”

“Is that how you found me? Did you use your mother’s devices?”

The boy didn’t answer but he seemed frankly contrite. Then he stopped in front of an old decrepit building carved in the yellow rock and Killian sensed that it might be the kid’s house. 

A dusty light bulb spread dim shadows throughout the entrance, Henry climbed the stairs two by two and Killian followed him up to the fourth floor where the boy reached a door with no numbers on it, exactly equal to the other doors on the landing. The perfect kind of place where you hide if you want to go unnoticed, Killian thought. Maybe the lad was right and his mother needed some help indeed. What trouble am I getting into? He saw the boy taking a deep breath before grabbing the handle of the door to open it with resolve.

.

.

***

.

.

Killian stood in the door frame watching the scene in front of him. The kid had run inside the house leaving the backpack on the floor next to the door, and was now in the middle of the small living room, enveloped by his mother's arms, who had bent down to hug him and was caressing and kissing his head.

Killian scanned the room, which seemed to be the whole apartment: a table surrounded by a couple of old armchairs and two mismatched chairs, a kitchenette on the right, and a bunk bed on the left. The bathroom was probably in common with the rest of the apartments on the same floor. Killian didn’t expect a luxury hotel suite, but this, well, this was miserable.

"Henry!" She sobbed.

As soon as he heard her voice, Killian instantly steered his gaze to the woman kneeled in front of her son. He could see that her eyes were slightly red and a bit swollen as if she had been crying for some time. 

She was older than he remembered, but alas 10 years had passed for her as well. She wasn't the fragile girl anymore, but a beautiful grown-up woman. Her hair was shorter, wavier, and a bit darker than the last time he saw her. Killian couldn't believe his eyes, but the very Princess of New Tolemac was now in front of him, in one of the poorest rock houses of the planet. 

“Mom!” The lad started to speak, but his mother interrupted him.

“Henry, are you alright? Oh my God! I was so scared! Where have you been? You know what? It doesn't matter.” She was rambling without pause, kissing her son’s forehead. “What's important is that you're home again and you're fine!” Then she looked at Henry seriously: “You are, right?”

“Yes, yes, I'm ok,” Henry reassured her. “Mom, I've found him!” He exclaimed enthusiastically. 

“Who?” She asked, a little perplexed. 

“My father! I've found my father!” The boy explained. 

“Uh…” She seemed to be out of words, and if Killian was good at reading her, the look in her eyes was one of concern. Then she looked up and her eyes found the man standing at her door. The concern was gone in one second, and her eyes widened in disbelief. She opened her mouth but no word came out. 

“Mom, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mom, Emma Swan.” Henry introduced.

Emma Swan. Killian repeated in his mind. The surname didn’t ring any bells. She had probably changed it during the years. That, the place where she was living, and the fact that Henry admitted she needed help, gave him the chills. Something was wrong, so very wrong. But he decided to keep those thoughts to himself.

“It's nice to see you again, Emma.” He smiled.

“Of course, you two already know each other. I mean. I exist, so…” Henry giggled.

“Seriously kid?” She inquired incredulously at her son, with a slight red blush on her cheeks. 

But Henry was already distracted by something on the square table behind him “Dinner! I'm starving.” He said joyfully. 

This seemed to wake her up from her trance and she stood up from her previous position. “Wash your hands before sitting at the table.” She warned while the boy was already discarding his scarf and jacket over one of the armchairs.

Killian could recognize the authoritarian tone of the Princess he once knew and a smile appeared on his lips. Then she turned towards him and with no words, she approached him and put a couple of fingers on his chest, softly pushing him out of the house. He complied. 

When they both were outside, she almost closed the door behind her. She wasn't looking at him, she seemed more interested in her shoes. “I'm sorry for all the problems Henry may have caused. If there's anything I can do for you…” 

But Killian dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “No problem.”

“Thank you for bringing him home.” Her tone was genuinely thankful.

“It was the right thing to do.” And when she didn't reply he felt it was the moment to say goodbye. 

He started stepping back but suddenly stopped and turned around facing her again. “Uh... now that I think about it. There is a thing you could do for me.” He tilted his head arching an inquiring eyebrow “I have one question” he said, emphasizing his words lifting one of his fingers “why does your boy believe that I'm his father?” 

At those words, she lifted her gaze to look straight into his eyes.

[tisthenightofthewitch]

THE 20 GREATEST GHOST SONGS – RANKED - KERRANG!

From Opus Eponymous to Prequelle, we rank the greatest compositions from Ghost

Words: Sam Law

Photo: Tom Barnes 

Undoubtedly the breakout band in heavy music over the past decade, it’s been a wild ride for Swedish creeps Ghost. Melding elements of hard rock, doom, classic metal, psychedelia and outright guitar-pop – then daubing on the corpsepaint – their combination of deceptively digestible sound, occultist ethos and anti-ecumenical aesthetic has captured the imagination of music fans and sling-shotted their live ‘rituals’ into arenas on both sides of the Atlantic.

Of course, mysterious mainman Tobias Forge (aka Papa Emeritus I-IV, aka Cardinal Copia) has had his struggles. In 2013, the band was forced to temporarily rebrand as Ghost B.C. for legal reasons in the U.S. The initially intriguing, fluid anonymity of his bandmates’ Nameless Ghoul personas (even Dave Grohl apparently once donned the cowl) became a sticking point, too, as the collective sued Tobias in 2017, failing in their suit but also dispelling some of the precious mystique.

That Tobias has endured – not just surviving, but flamboyantly thriving in the heightened spotlight – feels like proof his band are here to stay. New music is eagerly anticipated in the not-so-distant future but, for now, we rank the 20 tracks on which Ghost have built their unholy empire thus far…

20. MUMMY DUST (MELIORA, 2015)

‘I was carried on a wolf’s back, to corrupt humanity / I will pummel it with opulence, with corpulence and greed!’ Arriving on a wave of staccato percussion, spiked with gnarls of riffage and flashes of synth, this pounding cut from 2015’s Meliora – named after the insubstantial detritus of years past – plays out as one of Ghost’s most compelling indictments of the avarice of mankind. Although its creeping instrumentation, growled baritone and choral climax don’t exactly show the Swedes at their most inventive, Mummy Dust has been elevated massively in the live arena, with Papa leaning into the lurching malevolence before showering the audience with ‘money’. In Ghost we trust.

19. WITCH IMAGE (PREQUELLE, 2018)

Ghost might have traversed a full spectrum from gouging metal via classic rock to shimmering guitar-pop thus far, but the further their sound has strayed into the light, the harder the lyrics have drilled down into darkness. It’s never been truer than on this underrated ditty from Prequelle. A textbook three-and-a-half-minutes built of sweet acoustic and rich electric guitars surging towards its massive chorus, you can practically taste the relish as Tobias ladles the syrup onto some of his darkest words. ‘While you sleep in earthly delight, someone’s flesh is rotting tonight / Like no other to you, what you’ve done you can not undo…’

18. CON CLAVI CON DIO (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

After the baroque organ intro of Deus Culpa, it’s the throbbing bassline of Con Clavi Con Dio that truly pulls back the sacristy drapes on Ghost’s compelling debut. Translating crudely as ‘With Nails, With God’, the title Con Clavi Con Dio is actually an attempt at clever wordplay, drawing comparisons with the nails of crucifixion and the conclave of bishops at the head of the church as Tobias sings, ‘Our conjuration sings infernal psalms and smear the smudge in bleeding palms.’ Theological musing aside, it’s the dark swirl of sound here that truly draws the listener in, with gauzy layers of guitar, synth and vocals – not to mention the devilish tritone interval – building into a towering cathedral of subversion.

17. FAITH (PREQUELLE, 2018)

No relation to the oft-covered George Michael classic, the fourth single from 2018’s Prequelle feels like a defiant statement of the band’s arena-straddling prowess twelve years in. Powered by snarling six-strings and pounding drums – custom engineered to get tens of thousands of fists pumping – it’s seething proof that this band’s heaviest sounds are still among their best. At the same time, we get a furious flash of the man behind the mask as Tobias takes aim at his ex-Nameless Ghouls with some serious lyrical barbs: ‘The Luddites shun the diabolical, a fecal trail across the land / Although it stinks, feels and looks identical / And a pack of fools can take the stand.’ Oooft.

16. PER ASPERA AD INFERNI (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

Riffing on the popular Latin phrase ‘Per aspera ad astra’ (‘Through hardship to the stars’), Per Aspera Ad Infini literally translates as ‘Through Hardships To Hell.’ Its churning sound diabolically matches up. Layering on riffage that calls to mind the epic doom of heroes like Candlemass, marching-beat percussion and a lyrical treatment revolving around that title chanted as a mantra, there is sinisterness throughout. Its defining quality, however, is the fragility and despair Tobias manages to summon as he begs with ecstatic fervour, ‘Oh Satan, devour us all / Hear our desperate call.’

15. SECULAR HAZE (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

The lead single from 2013’s sophomore LP Infestissumam immediately built on the spooky foundations laid by Opus Eponymous with broader pantomime atmospherics and – on its live premiere in Linköping, Sweden, where Papa Emeritus II was unveiled – the first branches of their expanded mythos. A carnivalesque organ sets the tone of mischievous eeriness before the pendulous musicality hits full swing with Papa inviting us in: ‘You know that the fog is here omnipresent when the disease sees no cure / You know that the fog is here omnipresent when the intents remain obscure – forevermore!’ As if their mainstream-invading intent wasn’t clear enough, its single release even came with a B-side cover of ABBA’s I’m A Marionette featuring Dave Grohl on drums!

14. SEE THE LIGHT (PREQUELLE, 2018)

Another barely-veiled reference to Tobias’ struggles with ex-bandmates, See The Light is also one of his band’s most shamelessly uplifting compositions. Feeling like a positivist ’80s anthem – shot through with a little venom – its tinkling keys, soaring synths and understated, rumbling riffage propel an effortlessly memorable message about transcending the ill-will of one’s antagonists. Sing it together: ‘Every day that you feed me with hate, I grow stronger!’

13. DEUS IN ABSENTIA (MELIORA, 2015)

Riding on the metronomic beat of their Monstrance Clock, the closer on Ghost’s third album (translated from Latin as ‘In The Absence Of God’) is an extravagant exercise in arch theatrics. Benefiting from Klas Åhlund’s grandiose production, Tobias comes across as both demon and angel, extending his dark invitation: ‘The world is on fire, and you are here to stay and burn with me / A funeral pyre, and we are here to revel forever.’ Concluding with a hymn-like Latin chorus, it feels like the ultimate corruptive culmination: a musical sacrament truly touching only to those in the know.

12. STAND BY HIM (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

The track that started it all. Inspired by that irresistible lead riff – stumbled upon while practising for another band – Tobias foresaw a deep, dark well of potential waiting to be tapped and threw himself in headlong. Although Stand By Him’s schlocky lyrics feel gleefully on-the-chin nowadays (‘The Devil’s power is the greatest one / When His’ and Hers’ holiest shuns the sun / A temptress smitten by the blackest force / A vicar bitten blind in intercourse’), they paved the way for everything that followed. On top of that, its soaring ‘It is the night of the witch…’ chorus line even rivals that of Donovan’s Season Of The Witch (an obvious influence) for sheer spellbinding catchiness.

11. GHULEH/ZOMBIE QUEEN (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

One of the less immediate tracks on Ghost’s second album was also its most important. A staggering, seven-and-a-half minute opus that unfolds from its sorrowing piano line and Papa’s desiccated hiss through a swaggering midsection to a conclusion full of proggy bombast; this was proof of the untold breadth and depth of their vision and sound. Pushing from their basis in ’80s classic rock through the looser sounds of the ’70s and right into ’60s psychedelia, this ode to the titular zombie queen (‘Up from the stinking dirt she rises, ghastly pale / Shape-shifting soon but now she’s rigid, stiff and stale’) feels like Tobias’ first real attempt to stretch his (cursed black) wings and remains amongst their most rewarding compositions.

10. RITUAL (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

Anyone who remembers Ghost’s ethereal emergence from the shadows likely does so with this earworm writhing in the back of their mind. Combining the slick melodies and wry fatalism of prime Blue Öyster Cult with the crunchiness of Pentagram and Saint Vitus – soothing organs and a driving bassline pulling away – they had the musical formula nailed. It was the imagery contained therein, however (all ‘bedouins and nomads’, fallen angels and ‘smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar bed’) that captured the imaginations of a congregation ravenous for a fresh take on ancient evil. Here, the doors to the sanctum were truly open.

9. YEAR ZERO (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

Tying into the Ghost B.C. renaming necessitated by their Stateside legal wranglings (the year zero being the pivotal point between the B.C. and A.D. timelines), Infestissumam’s sixth track developed into one of the greatest showcases of their dark majesty. Opening with a powerful Gregorian chant (‘Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer’) calling to mind Jerry Goldsmith’s legendary soundtrack to The Omen, Ave Satana, the direct riffage and bludgeoning choruses that follow hammer home a sense of sheer monstrosity. Typically, the Year Zero concept is subverted, with Forge (and, reportedly, guitarist Martin Persner) picturing an ancient antagonist far predating biblical times: ‘Since dawn of time the fate of man is that of lice, equal as parasites and moving without eyes / A day of reckoning when penance is to burn, count down together now and say the words that you will learn.’

8. MIASMA (PREQUELLE, 2018)

Just when you think you’ve got Ghost figured out, they pull something like this. The first of Prequelle’s two extended instrumentals feels like showboating from an outfit whose legitimacy some fans had dared question following the acrimonious departure of so many players. Rearing into view as an expansively primitive space-rock soundscape, layering up into an ’80s prog epic, then exploding in a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of synths, Michael Jackson riffs and the best metal saxophone this side of Norway’s Shining, it was proof that Tobias’ vision would not be dictated solely by his own crooning King Diamond fixation and that it, frankly, knew no bounds.

7. ELIZABETH (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

Four years since their formation, Elizabeth felt like the break Ghost had been waiting for. Released on 7” vinyl (with the less-ear-catching Death Knell on B-side), the Mercyful Fate comparisons were immediate, with many seeing the sense of eerie grandeur and kitsch luridity at play as directly descended from the great Danes’ 1987 classic Devil Eyes. An ode to infamous Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Bathory – alleged serial killer and bloodbather – sees Papa getting his teeth sunk in lyrically: ‘Her pact with Satan, her disposal of mankind / Her acts of cruelty and her lust for blood makes her one of us!’ The fine balance between sensuality and sin has yet to be bettered.

6. RATS (PREQUELLE, 2018)

The lead single from 2018’s Prequelle feels like a bridge between the (relative) heaviness of the band’s past and the unfettered theatricality of the album that was about to follow. Powered by a straightforward riff and piercing organs, dazzling solos and a rogue harpsichord, its introduction of the Black Death concept in which the album would wallow (refracting contemporary grievances through the filthy lens of the 14th century bubonic plague) felt both atmospherically appropriate and deliciously alive. The Scandi-pop ‘oooh-aahs’ in the chorus remain one of the band’s most gleefully irreverent touches, too. And the question of whether ‘them filthy rodents still coming for your souls’ is reference to Tobias’ old bandmates has provided rich fuel to keep the metal gossip mill turning.

5. MONSTRANCE CLOCK (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

In the Roman Catholic church, the monstrance is an (often ornate) receptacle in which the consecrated communion host is displayed for veneration. A monstrance clock was an aesthetically-similar Renaissance-era timekeeping device capable of displaying date, time and a wealth of other celestial information, often used in church rituals. We suspect that Ghost just liked the faintly cheeky sound of the phrase when quickly spoken. Still, the song they wrought from that initial giggle is utterly unforgettable. Deliberately paced and overflowing with evangelical zeal, a slow build flourishes into a splendiferous closing chorus that’s turned many an arena into a church of the Dark Lord: ‘Come together, together as one / Come together for Lucifer’s son!’

4. DANCE MACABRE (PREQUELLE, 2018)

If Rats was pandering somewhat to the existing fanbase, Dance Macabre was the other side of the coin. A shamelessly retro ’80s-style power ballad that’s as light on overt Satanic references as it is heavy on the cheese, some fans saw it as a form of selling-out: a dilution of devilish imagery in service of greater American radio-rock appeal. Perhaps they had a point. From its fist-pumping percussion and effervescent guitar solo to that ‘wanna, be wit chu’ chorus hook, however, it’s executed with enough committed precision and knowing panache to stand on its own terms, and a whole legion of new fans couldn’t help be swept along through the gateway and on to far darker delights. Tobias’ explanation that this is a soundtrack for people living like there’s no tomorrow – as many literally did during the plague – adds an extra dimension. Best experienced with the gleefuly vampiric music video.

3. CIRICE (MELIORA, 2015)

It’s strange how things work out sometimes. Originally conceived with producer Klas Åhlund as a nine-minute instrumental deep cut, Cirice was chopped down and reworked into Meliora’s irresistible lead single – becoming the song that really kickstarted Ghost’s stratospheric ascent. An insidious opening combusts into an infernal crescendo before lurching into the band’s most bludgeoning riff to date. All the while, Papa’s beguiling vocals reach out, full of dark romance, for new converts to their corrupted congregation. 2016’s GRAMMY for Best Metal Performance felt like just reward for such inspired work. The Roboshobo-directed music video – featuring a school talent show that’s almost as horrific as the ones we remember – is another stone cold standout.

2. SQUARE HAMMER (POPESTAR, 2016)

Following the unprecedented success of Meliora, Ghost found themselves suddenly commanding crowds far larger – and more diverse – than they’d seen before. Most of the ingredients for these grander live rituals were already in place, but they lacked the barn-burner early in their set to get these massive rooms onside. Dropped as the standalone original track on the Popestar covers EP, Square Hammer gave them just that. Abstractly melding the cultist themes of Satanism and Freemasonry, the concept of selling one’s soul – ‘ready to swear right here, right now, before the devil’ – was hardly new, but the outright pop energy of those surging synths and that exuberant chorus clearly signalled that the game had changed.

1. HE IS (MELIORA, 2015)

If Ghost’s diabolical mission statement is to make the Luciferian ideals more palatable to the masses, then He Is must be their masterpiece. So perfectly camouflaged – with twanging acoustic guitars and reverberating vocals that could’ve been nicked from the golden age of AOR – is their message, that they could drop this at any Christian rock festival and only the most switched-on devotees would know the difference. Openly indebted to giants like Kansas and Journey (and less openly to more recent occult acoustic acts like Ancient VVisdom), there’s a burning light to the sound. The use of divine-sounding Latin (‘Nostro Dispater, nostr’alma mater’) to identify the titular ‘He’ as the dark lord of the underworld is just another characteristically twisted masterstroke. Kneel at their altar.

All rights owned by Kerrang!

What do you guys think? 

Personally there’s a few I’d replace and Ritual is always my NO.1.