#making this made me realize how old lucy is compared to the rest of the gang

[alwritey-aphrodite]

pookie first of all: CONGRATS ON 1K OMG!!! SO PROUD OF YOU🫶🫶

also: loving all the arranged marriage fics they’re all soso good I’m so happy and grateful ❤️

anywayss, I have a new idea!!

-either a new girl reader, and sejanus is immediately infatuated w her

-orr more of a peacekeeper!sejanus with a district/covey reader bc it’s literally stuck in my head so badly rn😭

thank you so much, congrats again🫶🫶

ps: wish me luck on midterms this week, I’m dying🙏

AHHH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 🥰🥰🥰 im sorry this took so long, but im sure you did amazing on your midterms <3 also, peacekeeper!Sejanus and covey!reader mean the world to me (as does matchmaker Lucy Gray hehe)

The Covey are a flashy people, performers to their very soul and the most lively bunch you’ve ever seen. With a love of bright colors and music, it’s hard for any of you to fly under the radar when compared to the rest of the citizens of District Twelve, the people who will never claim you as their own but are happy to dance to your songs and send your cousin to fight to the death.

You, however, aren’t built for the stage. Your voice is better suited to singing lullabies than it is to performing on stage, and even the thought of that many eyes on you makes you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. Still, you contribute where you can, helping your cousins write their songs and being a willing audience when they need to test out something new, and you still work, sewing new clothes and patching up the old.

Lucy Gray is something of a momma bird, despite the fact that she’s only a handful of weeks older than you, and she’d rather see you set up and happy before running off with Coriolanus. Luckily for you, he has a friend who, in your opinion, is much kinder and cuter than his blonde counterpart. You’d tell him that, if only your tongue didn’t tie up in knots every time you made eye contact.

Walking towards the lake, Sejanus is sure to push any low-hanging branches out of the way for you, holding out his hand to help you over loose rocks and tangles of roots. The two of you talk the entire way there, almost oblivious to the people surrounding you and the feeling of Lucy Gray staring at you. If you turned around, you’re almost certain you’d catch her grinning.

When you finally make it to the dock, you try not to stare as Sejanus pulls off his shirt, turning away to pull off your own clothes, completely unaware of the way he blushes as he turns back towards the water, for reasons unrelated to the beating sun. No matter how obvious Sejanus makes his affection, it seems impossible to you that somebody like him could love you, and even just friendship seems a little unbelievable sometimes.

The two of you wait for your younger cousins to go splashing into the water, certain that if you had jumped in first, you would have gotten pummeled with water and flying limbs. Launching yourself into the water, you resurface with a giggle as you watch Lucy Gray leap into the lake with Coriolanus hot on her heels. Sejanus is treading water next to you, and the two of you share a smile as you watch Lucy Gray out of the corner of your eye.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” You wish you were as trusting as Lucy Gray, able to just accept affection like you deserved it, but you’re too busy daydreaming to realize that Sejanus is looking at you like you’re something to be admired.

After about twenty minutes of Maude Ivory’s splashing, you grow tired and heave yourself onto the dock, drying off in the sunshine and dangling your feet into the water. Sejanus sits next to you, claiming that he’s never been the strongest swimmer and he’d rather sit with you on mostly-solid ground, but from the way Lucy Gray winks at you, you’re almost certain it’s just an excuse to sit next to you.

The rest of the afternoon is spent lying side by side with Sejanus in the sun, talking about whatever comes to mind and kicking at your younger cousins whenever they decide to try and tug you back into the water. It’s all sunshine and giggles, and there’s a strange feeling forming in your chest, right in the center of your ribs, a feeling that grows whenever Sejanus looks over at you, eyes half-closed from the sun but still full of a sort of adoration that’s completely foreign to you.

These are always your favorite days, your favorite moments, little pockets of sun dappled peace for you to hold close to your heart and revisit whenever you’re feeling down. The way Sejanus looks at you, smiles at you, laughs at your jokes, places a gentle hand on the bottom of your back to guide you over rough terrain, catapults today to the top of your heart, a precious little jewel to hold onto.

In those moments, replaying the day over in your head with a dreamy smile on your face, you don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or reading too much into the way Sejanus seems to orbit you like you’re the sun, you just get to smile at the memory of the way his eyes crinkle with the intensity of his joy and the ghost of his warm palm on your back. And, no one can scold you for replaying these moments over and over, even though you’re much too nervous to ever say anything to Sejanus about the way your breath catches and your heart constricts whenever you see him.

Tagging my beloved @beybaldes because it feels illegal not to at this point

[rococodeco]

@annehackaway I found another unhinged review, this time from a fantasy only reader. A review of The Pisces (the bolding was done by the reviewer):

Let's get something straight right away: normally books like this aren't my thing. I've been trying to read more widely and outside of my comfort zone as of late, but fantasy is still my main jam. It's because of this that I was willing to give The Pisces a shot - it's not what I reach for in terms of genre, but balanced by The Shape of Water vibes that I thought I would enjoy it.

I didn't.

Everything about this book just made me feel gross. The main character, the side characters, even the plot itself made me feel uncomfortable and repulsed. By the time I realized the entire novel was going to be like this, it was too late to turn back; I was halfway through, and I might as well finish to count it towards my reading goal.

Imagine reading a whole novel that makes you feel gross just so you can claim your internet point for reading it. It's like self-flagellation but goodreads is your god.

The rest of the is below the cut because it is long. Someday I'll figure out how to link to specific reviews. That day is not today.

I can see why this would be compared to The Shape of Water - both feature a woman that engages in a romantic and sexual relationship with a non-human sea creature. But The Shape of Water is whimsical, funny, diverse, and, most of all, aware of how it fits into conversations about fantasy, race, and sexuality. The Pisces is merman erotica that spends the entire novel justifying animal abuse, pedophilia, and the harmful decisions of its pathetic main character simply because she's a "broken" woman. I say "broken" because I'm still not sure, exactly, what makes her "broken," much less what could possibly justify all the problematic shit she does.

The main character, Lucy, is intensely unlikable. She's a 38-year-old grown-ass woman, and she's still mooching off of her university's grant money for the thesis she's been writing for 9 years. As an undergrad student whose high tuition puts the fear of god in her, her abuse of university funds is deeply offensive to me. Not to mention, Lucy's entire purpose of being graciously invited to live in her half-sister's million dollar house instead of her shithole apartment is to watch her sister's dog, Dominic. Dominic has diabetes, so he needs to be given medication. But instead of taking care of her sister's sick dog, LIKE SHE'S BEING PAID TO DO, Lucy spends the majority of the novel trying to satisfy her libido by having sex with random men who couldn't give two craps about her.

That's right, folks. We get to spend the entire 270 pages watching Lucy's animal abuse unfold. She forgets to walk him, feed him, give him the medication that helps keep him alive. She starts giving him daily tranquilizer pills - overdosing him on the first try and then continuing to up the dosage as he builds resistance to it - so he doesn't bother her. SO HE DOESN'T BOTHER HER. We watch him waste away to nothing while Lucy fucks her merman lover on her sister's white couch during her period, ruining the couch by staining it with her menstrual blood. Sexy, am I right?

And Lucy's therapy group? Don't even get me started. I don't know exactly the policies surrounding therapy groups, but when a 40-year-old woman admits to wanting to have sex with her son's 16-year-old friend, believing that he is attracted to her, nothing is done. Nothing happens. No one says anything. No one calls her out on her deeply, deeply disgusting thoughts. In fact, the other women feel sympathy for her. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

This book is an absolute garbage fire. A problematic, disgusting dumpster fire. Don't expect to find The Shape of Water here. Go watch the movie. Spend your afternoon elsewhere.

When a goodreads review begins with, "I usually only read YA but I decided to branch out," you know the review is going to be good (have the most unhinged opinions you've ever seen about literature)

[kiliinstinct]

20 or 45, if you'd be so kind as to appeal to my guilty pleasures 🤣❤

Touch Prompt 20: Bandaging/Stitching Up An Injury Warning: There is blood.

---

"I need ya to hold still."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah, quit being weird and let me finish!"

Lucy huffed. Natsu snorted. Both stared the other down, asserting their own wills, but quickly ended when Lucy sighed and looked away. It wasn't that she didn't want the treatment or even need it, but Natsu wasn't known for his gentle hand with a bandage. And the large gash on her arm hurt.

As she relented, Natsu released a breath he'd been holding and shuffled through the first aid kid. Often the rolls were reversed between them, but his own wounds were scant compared to Lucy's. A few scuffs and scratches here and there. He managed to dodge the worst of it, but not Lucy. Her quick thinking had turned the tide in their recent job, but had also done the one thing Natsu wished he could have stopped.

Put her right in the way of danger, and the blood that had dripped from her, pooled at her feet as a red sign of his own failure. The bleeding had stopped some time ago, thanks to Natsu's own quick thinking, but the sight of the angry, burned flesh in the shape of his own hand print glared at him as a sickening reminder.

Natsu wanted to vomit.

His fingers weren't the most dexterous. Not with these sorts of things, but he still did as he remembered: clean the wound, apply pressure when needed, and wrap it just tight enough to hold, but loose enough to breathe. (At least, he thought that was right. Was it?) Lucy's grimace and flinches were silent representations of her earlier shouts of pain during the earlier fight. Muted now, but loud and echoing in his mind.

"We gotta make sure Wendy or the Old Lady sees this when we get back," he grumbled, Lucy agreed quietly, her attention turning back to him. Her stare burned holes into the back of his head, but he kept his own gaze on the messily wrapped arm.

It would serve, but it wasn't the prettiest of bandages. Erza would lecture him when they returned. Probably even try to teach him how to do it properly. ...had Happy reached them yet? He'd flown off earlier to warn them of Lucy's injuries, but would it be enough time? He kept thinking of the worst possible outcomes, teeth gnawing into his cheek as he considered the fight. If only he'd been faster, stronger... smarter...

Cauterizing Lucy was something he wanted to forget.

"You know it's not your fault, right?" Lucy's voice broke through the constant repetition in Natsu's head and he realized, too late, he'd been growling. With shoulder's slumped, he looked to her, desperately trying to keep his feelings in check.

"Ya' think?" It is my fault. It's always my fault. I'm too reckless. I don't pay attention. I don't- the fingers of her left arm grazes his cheek, smoothed away the fringe that covered his eyes and the angry voice in his head dissipated a little bit more.

"I know." Lucy pressed, her smile was soft and tempered, hiding the pain she was obviously feeling. "I made my choice, just as you would have done the same for me. You know what is your fault?"

He snorted, unsure where she was going with this, "the roof I blew up?"

"Yes," her thumb was rubbing his cheek now, but her gaze held firm, "But not that." Leaning close, she replaced her gentle touch with a soft kiss to his cheek and sent the rest of his angry thoughts to the wind.

"This ugly bandage that's going to save my arm. That's your fault."

Natsu's laughter barked out loud enough to send birds flying.

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Sherry Cola, Good Trouble

You may recognize comedian, actress, and writer Sherry Cola as Alice in Freeform’s Good Trouble. Additional TV credits include jewelry maker Natalie on I Love Dick, special agent Lucy Chen on Claws, and the iconic Lil’ Tasty. On the big screen, she can be seen in the upcoming Endings, Beginnings with Shailene Woodley, Jamie Dornan, and Sebastian Stan, and in the indie Sick Girl with Nina Dobrev and Wendi McLendon-Covey. No stranger to ambition in comedy, Sherry is also a successful stand-up comedian, performing regularly at The Laugh Factory, The Improv, and The Comedy Store. Sherry took a few minutes to chat with us about comedy, Good Trouble, and more. Check it out:

What is your experience of portraying comedy-aspiring first-generation Asian-American Alice? Can you talk about any similarities or differences between you?

I’m grateful to play a character that I never saw on TV when I was growing up. The deeper we get into filming these episodes, the more I realize how much it’s been missing. From speaking Mandarin to her best friend/ex-lover to diving into stand-up as a queer Asian female, Alice’s journey is so specific and overdue. Alice is adorably apologetic and she’s still finding her voice.

I’d say I’m more outspoken than she is, but we’re also similar in people-pleasing to the point of getting us in trouble. I heavily relate to Alice because I also have an immigrant mother who wasn’t well-versed about the LGBTQ+ world at first, but the more we show these stories on the screen, the more we can open minds!

Can you tell us about any funny or wholesome moments on the set of Good Trouble?

The scene in the pool for Malika’s birthday was super fun. It was almost 4 AM, and we’d already been floating in the water for 2 hours. I gotta give it up to our incredible crew for nailing all the messy shots of people jumping/falling in. It was hilarious being in that cloudy, chlorine-less human soup, just splashin’ around like little kids. Our entire cast adores each other so we’re always in good company. It’s a celebration when we have those big group moments.

Do you have a routine before you go up on stage to do stand-up? What is it, and how did you come up with it?

I do lots and lots of breathing because I’m nervous right before I hop on stage, no matter what. I also get very thirsty so I find myself going to the bar last-minute to get water. This happens every single time. I never think ahead and have the water prepared! I look over my jokes to remember which ones I wanna do. Then when I get up there, the throwing-up feeling disappears and I’m on cloud nine!

What is something you wish people knew about being a comedian in the industry as it is today?

Sometimes people take comedians too lightly. We deserve more props! There’s heavy stuff happening behind that microphone. We have the power to educate and touch the audience, in an almost brain-washy fashion, but not in a bad way. I can use jokes to shine a light on something like climate change, and people will walk away with a new perspective. Pretty cool!

If you could give any character on Good Trouble some advice, who would it be and what would you tell them?

This is the first time I’m officially saying this, but I’m team Callie and Gael. Y’all have something special, damn it! The fiery chemistry! It was spicy, but also tender...like a chicken nugget! Please give it another try and make some perfect babies!

Can you tell us a funny joke?

I saw this on a popsicle stick when I was in elementary school, and I’ll never forget it:

Q: What did the girl melon say to the boy melon after he proposed? 

A: We’re too young, we cantaloupe!

What advice would you give to your ten-year-old self?

STAY TRUE TO WHO YOU ARE! Things that made me self-conscious back then like non-American food that I’d take to school, or the fact that I never wore make-up, and just the general vibe of being unordinary - now I fully embrace it!

Who do you look up to?

I can’t even count on my fingers/toes/teeth/strands of hair how many people I look up to! From Sandra Oh to Lena Waithe… I have respect for all women of color who are pushing the culture forward. They motivate me to keep going so I can make just as strong of an impact.

Who inspires you?

My mom inspires the hell out of me. She came to this country and busted her ass off to make sure I have a comfortable life. Money means nothing compared to the feeling of making her proud. I get all my work ethic from her, from giving 110% to the importance of being on time, so she gets all the credit!

Can you tell us how Lakers-loving, jersey-wearing, Timberland-rocking Lil’ Tasty came about?

Lil’ Tasty is dear to my heart! She was a viral queen in 2016 because she was a breath of fresh air who said the most darn things. My friends Adam Episcopo and Rick Schaberg started a mockumentary-style series on Facebook called “Luber” which showed the lives of drivers who got rejected from Lyft/Uber. They asked me to create a character and naturally, as a lover of hip-hop, I knew this girl had to come equipped with obnoxious freestyle raps. Then I found an old Kobe jersey in my closet (RIP to the GOAT) and the rest was history. We shot these silly videos on a whim. We never expected to hit millions of views. Since then, Lil’ Tasty has built quite a fanbase, and I still have some things up my sleeve, so stay tuned!

If you could wake up as one of your characters tomorrow, who would it be, and why?

Waking up as Nuocki Mum would be dope. She’s an older Vietnamese lady who tries to keep up with the times. She’s completely oblivious but means well. She hits the nightclubs every weekend to stay young. I wouldn’t mind that!

Thanks for taking the time, Sherry! Check out the Good Trouble Tumblr for more.

Photos: Storm Santos

[margaretthotcher]

My Brain wouldn't stop so here are more fic titles and ideas for some of them:

I love you (it's ruining my life)

Who's gonna hold you like me?

We're modern idiots - Modern Methur - Alternatively, Merlin and Immortal! Leon Vibin' in the 21st century waiting for Arthur, antics ensue.

Put me back on the shelf

Fuck it if I can't have him

My good name (it's mine alone to disgrace) - Supercorp fic with lena as the POV character. Explores her relationship and disapproval of lex and her reclamation of the name Luthor

Scandal does funny things to pride (but brings lovers closer - Someone suggested FirstPrince and absolutely yes please

I did my time

Camera flashes, welcome bashes, get the matches (toss the ashes off the bridge)

No one asks any questions here - Downton abbey, after the first movie, Thomas and Ellis visit a safer bar

It's one hell of a drug

Who's afraid of little old me (you should be) - BAMF Merlin - Lucy Gray - Jason Todd

You wouldn't last an hour (the asylum I was raised in) - Jason to the rest of the Batfamily about crime alley

I told em he's my man

What a valiant roar (what a bland goodbye)

Lights, camera, bitch, smile - 9-1-1 buck is an actor AU, child actor with lots of pressure from his parents. Maybe Chris is brought in as a child actor on a show he's on and that's how Buddie meet?!?

You didn't measure up (in any measure of a man)

In fifty years, will all this be declassified? - Steve and Bucky's letters from the war are released in the aftermath of the winter soldier

Is it a wonder I broke (let's hear one more joke) - Buck lawsuit fic

Who are we to fight the alchemy? - Harry Potter something

This town is fake but you're the real thing - Another option for that 9-1-1 actor AU

Half moonshine, a full eclipse - Wolfstar

the circus life made me mean - Dick Grayson compares his childhood in the circus to growing up in Gotham high society. High society and tabloids are the 'circus' from the title. Years on he does his best to protect his siblings from them

Old habits die (Screaming)

Only liquor anoints you - Bobby's struggles with alcoholism and catholicism explored please

Sitting in a tree (D-Y-I-N-G)

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? (Kill me) - Merthur established relationship but Arthur doesn't know about the magic, merlin agonises about telling him

What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time

No sign of soulmates - Any Fandom soulmate AU, the couple are not soulmates both their soulmates died young but they find home in eachother any way

When the truth comes out it's quiet - The team finding out about how Dick was S/A'd and then blamed for it

What doesn't kill you makes you aware (what happens if it becomes who you are?) - Buck figuring out who he is outside all his trauma. (Spoiler, it's Chris's second dad)

In closets like cedar (the shelf life of those fantasies has expired) - Any of the Pevensie children, but especially Susan. Could be generic but since it's closet instead of wardrobe, I am picturing one of them being openly queer in Narnia and then returning to the 1940s and realizing they can't be anymore.

There's escape in escaping

(Looking backwards) might be the only way to move forward

The second best thing about a new taylor swift album is all the fic titles we just gained

[theheartsmistakes]

Any Other Name- Chapter 4

Smoke unfurled from the end of the cigarette hanging from James’s mouth as he rested his forearms on the bordering wall that lined the rooftop across the street from the London Institute where he used to call home. Ashes flickered in the placid breeze that drifted in from the North and mixed with the dusting of snow the gray sky had finally decided to release upon the wasteland that was SoHo.

The cold bit at his fingertips, exposed by his fingerless gloves as he took the last drag and then stamped the stub out on the bricks.

It was nearly five in the afternoon when they arrived; he’d been waiting on the roof across the street for nearly an hour when he finally saw the flash of red hair standing out like a beacon in the otherwise gray and dismal world. She stepped out from the cab with a black duffle bag in her hand, in an oversized jumper and bicycle shorts.

She had to be freezing, he thought, as he released the smoke from his lungs. The last time she came to London it was summertime. He remembered the time well. He’d just been expelled from the Academy and kept home from the summer trip to Egypt his friends and sister went on to see the infamous pyramid Institute there. It wasn’t his parent’s intention to keep him behind, but since a number of his academy peers would be attending the trip as well, it wasn’t advised that he be amongst them after the recent series of unfortunate events that led to his unjust expulsion. He wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t purposefully release a demon in the same room as Augustus Pounceby and Alastair Carstairs and their cadre of idiotic sycophants if given even the slightest chance.

Besides, he didn’t mind being left behind. He got to spend the summer catching up on his reading and training in the Institute’s gym. He’d nearly perfected throwing his blade directly into the target without looking when the Carstairs arrived for official Clave business. Their daughter, who was around the same age as Lucie, arrived with them. Cordelia wasn’t able to go on the Egypt trip either because of a training injury that left Cordelia on crutches and in a cast that wouldn’t be healed for several weeks. He couldn’t recall what happened, but he did remember that her ankle snapped in three different places and the Silent Brothers couldn’t mend it fully without her taking some time off of it. So, like him, she had been left behind. While his mother entertained Cordelia’s mother, she volunteered James to entertain Cordelia.

They spent the entire week she was there reading together while Cordelia rested her foot, sharing their favorite stories until hours into the night. She read to him passages of Layla and Majnun and he showed her all of his favorite parts of London from the top of a Mundane tourist bus. When the days would come to their end and they’d go off to their separate rooms, he found himself staying up at night craving the sound of her voice, the pitch of her laugh, the way her smile transformed her whole face and made his insides unfurl. He couldn’t stop his thoughts from finding their way back to her. One moment he would be reading Hemingway and the next he would be highlighting a passage to share with Cordelia. He’d be eating breakfast with his parents and find himself comparing the color to her hair. Each moment he was with her, it became more and more of a challenge not to give in to the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

He cursed himself for the better part of five years for not saying something to her before she left to go back to Tehran.

It may have been nothing more than a childhood crush at the time, but it flickered somewhere deep in his chest at the sight of her loose hair tumbling in the breeze as she looked up at the Institute.

“Daisy,” he whispered, the word curled in white smoke from his lips.

She turned to look over her shoulder towards him as if she’d heard his voice. He resisted the instinct to duck and instead held her gaze. From where he stood on the roof, he couldn’t make out her profile or even see if her lips were moving. There was no possible way that even if she did see a figure on the adjacent roof a few yards away, that she would recognize him. Still, he found himself holding his breath until she looked away again.

He watched as the Carstairs moved their things into his home with help by the very same Shadowhunters that voted him and his family out. Boxes filled with items his parents didn’t have time to collect before they were evicted from the estate were thrown out like trash to the curb.

“I don’t know why you choose to torture yourself in this way, Jamie boy,” said Matthew as he came up behind James and leaned his back against the railing. “It’s fucking freezing up here.”

James hadn’t heard Matthew come in through the roof door. He was still growing accustomed to the absence of intrinsically knowing when Matthew was near since their Parabatai runes had been destroyed.

“What can I say?” said James, leaning onto his forearms. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“And what have you done this time to deserve this self-assigned penance?” asked Matthew, kicking an empty beer can across the gravel. “And why was I not involved in the crime?”

“Thoughts of murder,” said James, “and revenge.”

“Nothing a few hail Angels and hours of demon hunting can’t forgive.” Matthew spun around and leaned on the railing beside James. “Ah, it’s move-in day. I should’ve known you be stalking the Institute like a starving crow.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Who?”

James nodded towards the Institute.

“The Carstairs girl?” Matthew pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket and stuck it between his lips. After a moment of fighting with his lighter, smoke drifted from the corner of his mouth. “Considering she’s only been here for all of seven minutes, no, I haven’t talked to her. Is she cute?”

James turned to glare at his friend. “How would I know?”

Matthew shrugged. “I just figure if you’re willing to freeze your balls off on the roof of this mundane hotel to watch her move into your old place then she must be cute. Didn’t the two of you have a short fling a few years back?”

“It wasn’t a fling.”

“Sorry,” said Matthew around a puff of smoke. “A relationship.”

“It wasn’t a fling nor was it a relationship,” said James laced with annoyance. “We spent a short summer together when you abandoned me to go to Egypt. We read books and I showed her around London.”

Matthew clutched his chest, right over his heart. “Please, James, spare me the intimate details.”

James gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Come off it. I haven’t seen her since we were children, I was just curious if you spoke to her and could tell me how she... seemed.”

Matthew’s pale eyebrows raised. “How she seemed?”

“Forget I asked.”

“No,” laughed Matthew. “Genuinely, I’m happy to see you pining after someone other than Grace Blackthorn.”

A flash of betrayal coursed through James at the mention of his ex-girlfriend’s name. He’d been in a fairly serious relationship with Grace (serious on his part, but rather noncommittal on her end) that ended abruptly when the Clave sided with Inquisitor Bridgestock in exiling the Herondale family. That very night Grace approached him outside the Institute in Idris and while hugging him, told him that her mother no longer thought it would be appropriate if they saw each other and then left.

He indeed pined for her for some time afterward. He got roaring drunk and sent her a series of fire messages that went unreciprocated and progressively turned to beg until Matthew took away his stele and paper until he was sober and could control himself. Not even a month later, Matthew told him that she started seeing Charles, Matthew’s brother from time to time. James went out and got himself so drunk that he passed out underneath a bridge like a deranged troll.

Grace had been his first real relationship. He’d taken other girls out before, and it was on a date that Grace approached him—or rather stole him—from his date and started snogging him in the back alley of the Devil’s Tavern. That was Grace’s way with him: stolen, secret moments that left him reeling and in desperate need of a cold shower.

But when he tried to hold her hand in public, she’d find a reason to move away from him. If she spoke to her within a group, she barely made eye contact with him. When they attended parties or went out, she insisted they arrive and leave separately. He never asked her why she wanted it that way; perhaps he knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.

He stayed with her because of tender moments when he felt the real Grace, his Grace, show herself. Like when they snuck out to Richmond Park and spent the night together lying on the grass, looking up at the stars, and talking about plans for their future. It hadn’t occurred to him then that none of her plans included him.

No, he’d long since stopped pining after Grace Blackthorn and wished for her demise with as much sincerity as he wished for the rest of those who exiled his family.

Matthew could be relentless in his teasing, so James made a quick attempt at changing the subject. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Matthew shoved his hand into his light blue corduroy jacket pocket and brought out a three-toothed brass key about the length of his pinkie finger and handed it over to James. “I need that back before my mother realizes it’s missing which shouldn’t be until Monday morning when she returns to her office, so make sure that you get whatever it is that you need done with it finished by tomorrow night.”

James clutched the key in his fist. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Shouldn’t?” Matthew blanched. “No, no, it won’t be a problem, because if it is a problem then my mother will take the blame for it. James, I need that key back by tomorrow night.”

James placed a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I understand, Math. I will leave the key at your flat tomorrow morning underneath the ceramic dog on your porch.”

Matthew’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “I have your word?”

“Of course,” said James and pocketed the key. “Do you not trust me?”

“Yes, of course, I trust you,” insisted Matthew. “My family has just been under a fucking microscope since everything happened. I had to tell the Penhallow boy that I was going to the shops to pick out new underwear and the bastard trailed me all the way to the strip mall and only left when I started picking out briefs. I would be insulted by his assuming that I am lying if I weren’t so goddamn irritated.”

James tensed. “Are you sure no one tracked you here?”

“Yes,” said Matthew as he took another long drag of his cigarette, “I’m sure. In fact, I tracked Penhallow to the Institute where he is one of the volunteers helping to move the Carstairs family in.”

“You didn’t volunteer?” asked James.

A stream of smoke flowed from Matthew's nostrils. “God no, I may have mentioned assisting my mother on official Clave business regarding a demon possessed artifact in an abandoned warehouse on Bleeker Street, so that is where they all expect me to be. Thomas, I believe, volunteered or perhaps he was wrangled into the job by his parents. The boy hasn’t stopped growing since he turned thirteen and his voice dropped. He looks like a linebacker on one of those American football teams. He will come more in handy than I ever could.”

Nearly a month has gone by with no word from Thomas or Christopher since the exile. As hard as James tried to understand the position his closest friends were put in, he couldn’t stop the sharp pang of abandonment, no matter how desperately he tried to convince himself that it was not like that for them. If the tables were reversed and he had to decide whether to risk seeing his friends or protecting his own life and the life of his family, then he could understand the hesitation.

Still, the anger ripped at his logic. He missed his friends— more than anything else he’d been forced to leave behind, he missed his friends.

“Is there really a demon possessed artifact in a warehouse on Bleeker Street?”

Matthew flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “Yes, but it’s being dealt with by Anna and a few others. I told my mother I volunteered to help the Carstairs move. Everyone believes me to be in one place, when in fact, I’m actually here with you. As long as no one speaks to each other about my elegid whereabouts then they’ll all be none the wiser.”

“Clever,” said James, fiddling with the key in his pocket. “Thank you, for risking what you have to bring me what I needed. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Matthew shook his head and stepped away from the bordering wall. His trainers crunched against the gravel as he spun on his heels to face James. “I may have to appear to be obeying their rules, but that doesn’t mean that I agree with them and it doesn’t mean that I will allow them to win. My life is still very much my own and I still choose to have you in it. You’re more than my friend, you’re my brother, more than my own even. I’ve told you before Jamie, they can erase my rune, but they cannot erase my promise, I will honor our vows as parabatai until I meet my end and not before.”

James embraced his oldest friend, clutching him tight around the shoulders. “I feel the same.”

Matthew returned the embrace. “You’ll take care of yourself, yeah? You haven’t told me yet what you intend to do with that key and I’ve been trying to give you your space and not ask, but if I’m invited to your trial after they catch you, I will deny ever being involved.”

James released him. “But you just said…”

“No where in the vows does it say that I have to stand by you when you do something stupid that I clearly warned you against!”

“It’s implied,” said James.

“I only follow explicit instructions, not implied instructions,” said Matthew throwing his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his trainer before glancing at the watch around his wrist. “Shite, I’m going to be late. The Inquisitor saw fit to put a curfew on those of us who were affiliated with you. If I’m home even a minute after seven then I am forced into a meeting with both Bridgestock, Pounceby, and a witness to verify that I am being truthful about my whereabouts. Also, I’m supposed to pick up Christopher to help my father with one of his experiments on weapons infused with holy water.” Matthew’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t effect your demony issue, does it?”

James rolled his eyes. “No more than it effects yours.”

Matthew grinned as he slowly walked back towards the roof door. “My demons have far more expensive taste in poison, I’m afraid.” With that, he opened the roof door and disappeared leaving James staring over the edge as his life once again shifted into something he couldn’t recognize.

___________________________________________________

Whispers of the exiled Shadowhunters crawled through the streets of Hackney, one of London’s most dangerous boroughs and home to most Downworlders that had effectively been pushed out of the bigger, better boroughs by the Clave. Lined with crowded pubs and coffeehouses, and veined with dark and minacious alleys fraught with all manner of salacious activities, the whispers followed James around like his own shadow.

It’d taken him not even a week to develop a reputation in Hackney that allowed him to wander the streets unbothered, though it did involve a significant amount of blood on his hands and a few scars that couldn’t be healed fully with an iratze. Afterward, the whispers turned to warnings and rumors of his ruthlessness; those standing on the streets as he walked back averted their attention or moved out of his path. There were the occasional few that stepped out to challenge him from time to time, but he’d simply have to fling a blade within an inch of their skin and they’d let him pass.

James flipped one of his throwing knives between his fingers as he walked: a silent reminder to those around him of who he was and what he was capable of doing. It was an unnecessary safety measure, but a comfort all the same. The knives were the last remnants of being a Shadowhunter that he has left; now he lived amongst of the shadows he once hunted.

As he approached the great stone arch that marked the entrance to The Hell Ruelle, Hepatia Vex’s nightclub, without uttering a word, the burly guard stepped out his way and allowed James entry.

The place was packed with a mixture of mundanes gifted with the sight, Fae, Warlocks, Witches, Vampires, and Werewolves dancing in the strobing lights that swayed in the exposed rafters to the electronic music that pulsed throughout the building. James dodged dancing bodies until he reached one of the many ladders that went to the second level. The steel bars were warm underneath his palms and littered with glitter amongst other unmentionable things. Once on the second level, he went straight, passed the NO ACCESS signs that flickered above the doorway, and pushed aside the heavy curtain that kept patrons out. Once the curtain closed again, the music went nearly silent except he could still feel the beat of the dancers and music underneath his trainers.

He slipped silently down the hallway, scanning the shadows in the rafters above for any of Hepatia’s spies until he reached the rouge door at the end and knocked three times.

“Who is it?” asked a deep feminine voice.

“James Herondale,” he said and crossed his arms. “I’ve brought what you asked for and I’m ready to trade, that is if you still want to do business with—“

The door swung open and standing on the other side was not Hepatia Vex, as he has expected, but a half-naked girl with star-shaped nipple covers and a skirt that was nothing more than a belt with two long strips of fabric covering her front and back. Long, tanned hips and legs that James had a difficult time ignoring were laid bare and glistening in the dull lamplight. Her opulent eyes reflected like those of a cat as she smiled lasciviously at James.

“Come in, Herondale,” said a voice from within the darkroom.

James shouldered past the courtesan that may or may not have smelled him as he passed and walked towards the plush green sofa where Hepatia stretched out in a black leather skirt and white bralette that nearly glowed against her deep, rich skin tone. The room smelt heavy with magic laced with weed and sex.

Hypatia's eyes wandered lazily over James as she uncurled her hand towards him. “Where is it? Give it to me.”

“No until you give me what I asked for,” answered James and glanced over his shoulder at the courtesan. “And she needs to leave.”

Vex started at James for a moment, the corners of her full, sensuous mouth turned up at the corners until she swung her body into a seated position and crossed one leg over the other knee. “Why the secrecy? Afraid to tarnish your reputation… but wait, hasn’t that been done already?”

“I don’t need all of the boroughs to know my business,” said James, staring at Vex around the ends of the curls that had fallen into his face. He’d been told on countless occasions that a look from him set people on edge. Perhaps it was the color of his eyes or the intensity within them.

Whatever it was, it worked. “Leave us, Femi. Bring us back some refreshments.”

Without a word or much of a sound, Femi left out the door.

Vex bounced the foot resting in the air and drummed her long red-painted fingernails on the couch cushion as she continued to look James up and down. “You look thin. Life in the dirty Hub not treating you so nicely, little angel.”

“Don’t call me that,” snapped James.

“Why not?” grinned Vex, satisfied to have found a wound for which she could press. “Oh, is that not accurate anymore? Should I refer to you as, little demon, instead?”

“Do you want to make the trade or not?” James’s voice dropped into a low, miserable timber. “I have other business to attend to.”

“I’m sure you do,” said Vex as she stood up and walked around the couch towards the minibar at the back of the room. She waved her hand over the ceramic ice holder three times as flecks of red and magenta smoke uncurled from her fingers. The lid to the ice bucket shook until she took it off and removed what was inside.

She sauntered her way back to where James stood. Her cat-shaped eyes slid over him from brow to chest to hips and back up again. Her pupils dilated slightly. “My you’ve grown into a handsome young man, haven’t you?”

James resisted the urge to cross his arms or crumble under her stare.

“But then you’ve always been handsome.” Elongated incisors flashed as she grinned. “Something you inherited from your father.” She reached and grabbed James by the wrist-twisting his arm until his palm was flat and facing up. She dropped three bags of iridescent powder into his hand. “Now for the key.”

James pocketed the powder and retrieved the key. Hypatia snatched it from his hand and held it close to her chest. “Pleasure doing business with you, Herondale. You should go have a dance. You look like you need to unwind and there are other ways to do that without the use of those drugs. I can fall up Fima and show you one of my favorite ways.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I need to be going,” said James, but before he turned to leave he remembered his conversation with Matthew. “I’ll need that key back by tomorrow afternoon and no later. It’s important that I return it.”

Vex dropped the key into the ice bucket and replaced the lid. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I will have someone meet you at Blackfriar bridge.”

James nodded and turned to leave. As he reached for the door handle, Vex’s voice came from behind him.

“And James, if you ever find that you want a real job and not to sell magical drugs on the street, come and see me.”

James didn’t bother to turn around, he turned the handle and stepped out, with absolute surety that a business with Hypatia Vex was not one that he wanted any part in.

Walking out of The Hell Ruelle, James felt as if he could breathe freely again. The warm July night had the streets crowded with miscreants and the company of such, especially in Hackney. He skirted past couples doing more than just making out against the alley walls and avoided the gang of werewolves lighting dumpsters on fire outside of a liquor store and proceeded to howl mockingly at the moon.

He made his way down Briar Street towards the canal where his regular customers would be waiting for him to provide his recently acquired goods under the troll bridge where all manner of questionable deeds went on. He needed to be one of the first ones to get there or all of the most desperate would have bought from someone else.

As he passed an alley towards the end of the busy street, he heard the sound of a female voice coming from the alleyway. He wouldn’t have stopped if it hadn’t sounded so familiar.

He backed up several steps and looked down the alley. Three tall male Fae warriors stood in a row and over the middle one’s shoulder, James could see a flash of red hair, the curve of her face, and the golden hilt of a sword resting over her shoulder.

Something twisted in his gut as recognition overtook him. She looked different, older, beautiful.

“I don’t want to harm any of you.” There was a slight waver in her voice: fear and determination. “I’m here by accident and I’d like to leave without any unnecessary bloodshed. If you would kindly move, I will happily be on my way.”

The Fae warrior in the center removed two blades from the scabbards at his sides and glided them across each other so they made a spark. “I say we remove her clothes piece by piece and allow everyone in the Mill to look their fill of her nakedness.”

“She is a lovely thing,” said the Fae to his right. “Perhaps we could take turns with her and return her back to her people used.”

James’s blood boiled in his veins at the threat and he reached for the throwing knife tucked in his jacket pocket. He hadn’t answered the call in his blood in some time, fighting as a Shadowhunter was too painful. He preferred to get his knuckles bloody and his skin to split, but there wasn’t time for that now and it was far too kind of a punishment for the threat they made towards her.

Cordelia drew Cortana and positioned herself to fight. “You can try.”

“What will you do?” grinned the head Fae. “You’ll cut all three of us down by yourself with that little blade?”

He moved towards her again, but Cordelia stood firm. James couldn’t help but smile at her stony resolve. She would do it, he could see it in her eyes that she would not hesitate, but the bloodshed from either side would surely make waves in the water that his parents and several other Downworlders were trying to still.

James leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt her, Bevan. I’ve seen her take down men twice as skilled as you.”

As the three Fae men turned to look behind them, Cordelia lunged.

A/N:

Thanks for reading! Comments, like, and reblog are my primary motivation.

Next update: Fri, 6/25

[juviaafullbuster]

Hi!!! Can I make a request? Please do Angst number 7, or 8, or 15 :) hahahha! Thank you in advance :)

Thank you so much for your request! I'm sorry it took me so long, please forgive me! Also I couldn't decide on a number so I tried to combine them all.. Really hope you like it 💙

Angst Prompt 7, 8 and 15:

"Do you even still love me?"

"Nobodys seen you in days"

"I told you not to fall in love with me."

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Really, Gray made sure nothing could go wrong. Or else he wouldn't have agreed to her coming along so easily. And yet here they were. Despite all his precautions, he found himself in the very situation he so badly wanted to avoid.

He had called her name before the bolt of magic coming her way would hit her. Juvia managed to get out of the way just in time to dodge the attack and counter it with one of her own. That didn't stop the panic rising in Gray though. No matter how many enemies they took down, he couldn't shake the feeling away that something bad was about to happen.

Looking around, he found all of his friends fighting around him. Lucy was summoning another spirit, Erza just changed her armor and Natsu was using his flames to make the enemy retreat. But to no avail. No matter how many they defeated, it seemed there were always more coming.

He was getting close to breaking down. It was all going so well earlier. They found what they were looking for, had lunch together, Juvia tried to feed him once again. It was going great actually. They were just making their way back, ready to receive their payment, when they had to be attacked.

Gray didn't know who it was that was attacking them nor why, he only knew that if they didn't manage to finish them off soon, this could turn out badly for him and his friends.

"Gray!"

He heard someone call his name, felt someone shove him out of the way, he felt the attack barely missing him. And then he heard screams.

Gray was frozen to his spot, everything a blur around him. He heard names being called. His, Juvias, Wendy's..  so many names. And then he turned around.

Blue hair. Pale skin. Red hands. Red. Blood. So much blood.

It all hit him at once. The realization, the anger, the pain. So much pain. He could feel the air freezing around him. It was getting dangerously cold, a sheet of ice covering the grass, the plants, anything in his perimeter. But he couldn't feel it. Not the ice. Not the cold. It didn't affect him. There was only pain and anger, so much of it.

Gray saw the black marks rising on his arm. And then the anger won over. He lost his ability to think straight, the ability to focus on anyone else beside the guy who had attacked her. He let his powers take control and lashed out.

When he came back to his senses, the enemy was defeated. He watched his marks vanish, alongside the anger. And when they were gone, there was only one thing left: Pain. So much pain.

Gray turned her way, unable to breath. She was still there, in the same spot as earlier. Wendy was leaning over her, focusing on the wound that just wouldn't stop bleeding. He could see so much of it, the blood. He felt a tear rolling down before realization hit him. Practically running, he got to her side and dropped down next to her.

He took her hand. It was so small compared to his. And so cold. Hands weren't supposed to be this cold. Maybe his, but not hers.

Gray looked over to Wendy desperately. She was too focused on her task to realize though. Gray followed her line of sight, focusing his attention on the wound below her chest. So close to her old one. Another one that he was to blame for.

Gray looked at her face. If you ignored the blood around her, she would look like a peacefully sleeping angel. But she wasn't sleeping. Instead she was fighting for her life.

She was still alive. Unconscious, but alive. Gray could see her chest rising, indicating that she was breathing. There was still hope. Gray watched her closely, desperately waiting for any sign. Any sign that this was a bad dream. He saw Wendy sitting back and removing her hands from the wound.

And when he looked back at Juvia, he saw her eyes open, full with fear and frantically searching for something. When they rested on him, she visibly relaxed.

They just looked at each other, both unable to form words. She took her hand out of his, instead putting it on his cheek and wiping the tears away that escaped his eyes.

"It's okay.." she barely whispered, yet he could hear her clearly.

"It's not."

"Gray.."

"No. No, don't. Why? Why would you.."

She looked at him, a faint of a smile on her face. Despite the pain she was currently feeling, her eyes softened.

"Because I love you."

Don't.  Please don't. Everyone who loves me dies. Why don't you learn? Why don't you run away from me? Why do you keep staying by my side? Why? Gray had so many things running through his head, so much he wanted to tell her, ask her. Instead he only managed to choke out one sentence.

"I told you not to fall in love with me."

***

Several days had passed since that day. Gray was desperately trying to avoid everyone. Especially a certain water mage that has been running through his mind. She has been haunting him, his dreams, nightmares. No matter what and where, she was always there.

He had made sure that she was okay, that the wound had healed properly. But once he was sure that she would be fine, he left, taking mission after mission. Just as long as he wasn't around, as long as he didn't have to see her. He couldnt deny that it hurt him. He missed her, her smile, her hugs. But it was for the best. He couldn't let this happen again, her sacrificing herself in order to protect him. And he knew she'd do it again. So he made a decision. A decision that would hurt the both of them. But it was necessary. He wanted to protect her and that was the only way he could.

Gray made his way to the guild hall. It was time to talk to her. He couldn't postpone it anymore because he was afraid he'd never go through with it. The moment he entered the hall he could feel so many eyes on him. But he ignored it and walk straight towards the table where he saw Juvia. She had immediately caught his eye.

When he arrived at said table he took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was coming.

"Graysama! Nobody's seen you in days! Juvia was so worried."

She hugged him, resting her cheek on his chest.

"Juvia came to check up on you. But Mirajane told her that you left on missions. How did it go? Why didn't you tell anyone, Juvia would have come along."

Of course she would have. Wasn't that the problem? How willing she was to do things for him? He hold her by her arms, slowly pushing her away.

"We need to talk."

Juvias smile immediately vanished. Instead her eyes filled with worry.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

He could still feel so many eyes on him.

"Not here. Let's go."

He walked towards the door and glanced back to make sure Juvia was following. He lead her to the park and sat on one of the empty benches.

"So what is it you need to tell Juvia?"

"How's your injury?"

"It's fine, Wendy healed Juvia very good."

"I'm glad."

"Is that what you want to talk to Juvia about?"

"Yeah, kind of.."

Gray paused, not sure how to open up the topic he wanted to get to. But it turned out he didn't have to because Juvia spoke up instead.

"You've been blaming yourself again, haven't you?"

She knew him so well. Too well. Somehow Gray felt like she knew exactly why they were here, what he was planning to do.

"That's why you weren't at the guild hall those past days. You didn't want to face Juvia."

"I-"

"Graysama, this was a decision Juvia made herself. And she would have done it for the others too. Whether it was you, Lucy, Erza. Anyone. Because that's what Juvia does for the people she loves. And nothing you will say is going to change that."

"But-"

"No. Juvia doesn't want to hear it."

"You don't even know what I want to say!"

"You want to push Juvia away!"

Silence. She was looking at him, daring him to deny it. There were hints of anger on her face but she seemed to be holding back. Gray let out a frustrated groan. This woman was going to be the end of him.

"Juvia. I'm trying to protect you."

"By pushing Juvia away? How is this supposed to protect Juvia?"

"You won't get hurt because of me!"

"You'd be the one hurting me!"

Another silence. Juvia took a deep breath.

"Listen.. Juvia understands what you're thinking. Why you want this. But it isn't fair. It isn't fair that you let your fears rule over. You told Juvia to be patient, to wait for you. And Juvia is willing to do that. But not if this is what she's awaiting."

Gray gulped. Unable to form an answer. Of course this isn't what he made her wait for. But it was what was necessary. He couldn't risk her getting hurt or worse dying for him. So what if she had to deal with heartbreak for a while, wasn't that better than her being gone forever?

"Juvia will leave. Juvia will not bother you anymore. She won't join you on missions. She won't address you with sama anymore, won't make you food, pick up your clothes. She will try to not love you anymore. It all depends on the answer you'll give her to her question. Juvia won't doubt your answer, she'll accept it, no matter what the answer is."

Gray hated this. Just imagine life like that hurt him. But isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what was necessary to protect her from him? He was aware that it would hurt the both of them if he went through with it. Wasn't that a risk he was so willing to take?

"What's your question?"

"Do you even love me?"

She was looking at him and she seemed so vulnerable. Gray looked away. He knew what he was about to say would hurt her and he didn't have the strength to see her breaking. He was a coward.

He knew the answer to her question. It took him a lot of time to figure it out, to realize what it was he was feeling everytime he was around her. Turns out the feeling was love. Because yes, he loves her, Gray Fullbuster loves Juvia Lockser, he loves her more than anything. She's his power to live, the one person who makes him smile, the one who keeps him sane. She's his everything. But he couldn't tell her that. Because then she would never let him go. And he was afraid he wouldn't let her either. He had to do it now before he became to weak to go through with it, before she managed to break down his walls completely.

"Not in the way you want me to."

Gray still didn't look at her. He couldn't. He had already heard the sharp intake of breath. There was an awkward moment filled with silence before Juvia finally decided to speak up.

"Juvia understands."

She got up and Gray made the mistake of looking at her. She looked so pained, so hurt and her eyes were filled with tears that where going to be shed any moment now. Gray already regretted his answer, but it was too late now. The damage was done.

"Juvia won't bother you anymore. Goodbye, Graysa- Gray. Goodbye Gray.."

She walked away, not bothering to wait for an answer. She didn't look back, not once. She wouldn't turn around, after all she had promised him. And that was good because it was what he wanted, wasn't it?

Gray watched her form disappear before it hit him that it was over. All of it. Juvia would never be the same towards him again. They would never be together. They were just guild mates now, nothing more, nothing less. Gray should be happy. But why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like Juvia had taken his heart with her?

He felt something hit his face, followed by more. Rain drops. It was raining. He could tell that it was his doing, he was the one who brought the rain back. And somehow this was what made it final.

Gray stayed on the bench and let the rain mix with his tears. This pain, it was worse then any injury he had dealt with before. And unlike an injury, this one couldn't be healed..

It was over. He had lost her. And he wouldn't get her back.

[hopeshoodie]

I’m sure you’re all in suspense as to what this post  was all about and uh... This. It was for this.

So join me, won’t you, a descent into madness much like mosswall!henrik, to discover quantifiably who is the pinkest islander.

So this all started when I was making an edit of Gary and had the thought, ‘huh. he’s really pink. It’s kinda funny looking the more I stare at it. Like a big old shrimp’. That grew into ‘huh, I wonder who’s the MOST pink’. 

But then I realized!!! That I have the tools to figure that out very scientifically!!

I have the ability to survey and collect data. I have the ability to pour an absurd amount of time into this question. So I started by picking out all the islanders who I thought had a pink hue. I didn’t want to be biased and pick out the MOST pink parts of their body because that would skew the results. So I put each islander’s sprite through a color composite tool. Essentially this would blend all the colors in an image together into one, median color. 

But I just wanted their skin tones, I didn’t want their features polluting the color. So went through I erased each and everyone’s face and hair : ))))))))

Problem. I was using PNGs of the sprites with no backgrounds, but the tool I was using automatically set the background as white. All this extra white space was dramatically lightening the median tones. I couldn’t set the background to a specific color because that would again skew the results. So instead I opted to zoom in on the largest chunk of each body that I could and crop out the most amount of background. This had my google drive looking like.

Which admittedly…. Not great… But got much better results! 

Which I then put into the lovely quiz that yall took.

Then I painstakingly went through each answerer of the quiz and matched their answers to the option provided, because my dumb ass didn’t think to number or label the hues in the actual quiz. It got to the point where I could just look at the hue and know ‘oh that’s Seb’ and didn’t have to compare. But here’s how the quiz results turned out:

Everyone agrees that Lucy and Gary are pink as hell comparatively, but the rest were pretty mixed, with Ciaran and Miles barely squeezing out a victory.

Then I asked yall to debate between the four winner, and asked the groupchat

GARY WON. JUST AS I SUSPECTED. PINK MAN IS PINK. However Ciaran stole away the Shrimp-iest title.

 So then I made a collage And for funsies, I made these

At this point it was like 1am and I was just having fun with colors, it got very divorced from the F L E S H aspect of it all.

But at the end of the day, it was so worth it. Because now we know who the pinkest and shrimpiest islanders are. You’re welcome.

[eveningstar1516]

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 10

Rise of the Demon King Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N: I gotta Discord server guys! It's primarily Obey Me but other fandoms are welcome as well. It's kinda baby and dead so me and the other members are looking to revive it and we'd love for you to come join us. A roleplay area is included :) https://discord.gg/F3YEmDZCPS Please remember to read and accept the rules once you join for access to all the channels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously: Satan spent the rest of the night by his brother's side, cleaning his room and slowly, step by step, bringing back how his brother usually looked like. A glowing masterpiece, worthy of both envy and praise. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER 10 - A Strong Bond (1616 words)

I was sitting at Lucifer's desk in his old room. After spending 3 sleepless nights in a row, Simeon helped me move into Luci’s old room which thankfully had some really good blinds to block out the celestial sun. The paperwork seemed as endless as it had in the Devildom only this time, it was the archangels' work. While they did their share and dealt with their department’s issues, the majority of the work still fell on my shoulders. I’m starting to understand why Lucifer felt this way towards paperwork. I put the pen down as I finished up the last of this week’s paperwork. Looking at the time, I realized I’ve been working for the past 9 hours straight. Getting up, I stretched my back and felt my joints popping. I filed the rest of the work and got dressed in something more comfortable. A simple dark blue turtleneck and white jeans. I made my way to the kitchen, having missed dinner, I wanted to get something to nibble on before bed. Upon entering, I found Raphael at the table with a cup of celestial berry tea. Noticing me, he looked up and waved me over.

“What are you still doing up Raph?” “I could ask the same. Here, we have some leftovers.” Raphael got up and got a plate from the fridge placing it in the microwave before getting another mug to pour more tea in. “Thank you” I took the mug with both hands and slowly sipped it. Relishing the warmth flowing down my throat. Taking the plate out of the microwave, Raphael set it in front of me before ruffling my hair and sitting back down. Laughing I retaliated back.

“H-hey! I’m not a child”

“You are compared to us. An overworked tired child that despite being in over their head, is doing an amazing job at keeping us running.”

“Thank you. It is hard though. I have no idea how Lu did it, still does it.”

“Yeah, Sammy would work himself to exhaustion. You actually remind me of him. Your determination to get the work done flawlessly and your dedication. Are you sure you’re not supposed to be an angel?”

“Heh, thanks Raph, but you and I both know I’m only doing this to go back.”

“Do you have to though? You’ve been here for a full millenia now. Don’t you want to stay?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely up here and you guys are the absolute best, but I don’t belong here. My heart is in the Devildom with the brothers.”

“Why though? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticizing, but why would you rather stay in the Devildom than here?”

“I guess the Devildom just grew on me. The Devildom, and the bro’s. I like the way Belphie looks when he’s sleeping peacefully, his head on my lap. I admire the way Beel protects his twin and his brothers, sacrificing everything to make them happy. I envy the way Asmo can change a tense atmosphere into an up beat one effectively dissolving any tension. I find myself thinking about Satan and the late reading nights we’d have and the discussions about cats and our books. I wish I had as much passion as Levi does with his games and shows. Confidently ranting on about them without caring what others think. I’m amazed by Mammon’s love for his family. Everything he sacrifices to make them happy. He even puts himself in the line of fire and would redirect the attention to himself by doing something stupid to distract them from their suffering. I love Lucifer. I love how much he cares for his family. All he sacrifices, all he endures, all the pain he hides from them to keep them happy. To keep us all happy... I miss them.” Tears started pooling as I reminisced about the brothers. Raphael leaned over and pulled me into a shoulder hug.

“I know you do. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure they miss you too. It sounds like you created a strong bond with them. I’m sure you’ll get to see them soon.”

“I hope so. Thanks Raph.”

“Anytime Y/N. I think you should get some rest. Don’t forget we have a-”

“Y/N, Raphael.” Michael walked into the kitchen. He had a look that closely resembled contentment and relief.

“Michael, how can we help you?”

“You should be in bed Raphael. Father wants to see Y/N. Now.” Raphael and I exchanged a look. I finished off my tea and hugged Raphael goodnight before heading to my room to change into something more appropriate for my meeting with God. 5 minutes later and we were on our way to the palace. In the Devildom After they lost Y/N The day they lost Y/N was the hardest day in their life. After they got back to the house, they both went straight to their room, not talking with anyone. Behind the relative safety of a locked door, Belphie crawled into bed and tried to escape reality. Beel sat on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t try to sleep, he didn’t go to the kitchen, he didn’t move. He just sat there, the pain numbing him. They stayed like this for a while before Belphie started tossing and turning, his slumber becoming a restless nightmare. Beel got up and changed into something more comfortable. He moved Belphie over and got under the covers, pulling his twin into his chest. Belphie felt himself being pulled into his older brother's embrace and leaned into it, grief evident on both their faces as they both fell into a dreamless sleep.

The days following weren’t much better. Beel wouldn’t eat as much, practically starving himself and he was rarely found. When any of the brothers would go looking for him, they’d either find him in his room or the gym. Belphie wouldn’t wake up at all anymore. He’d go weeks sleeping, if you could call nightmare filled nights sleeping. He wasn’t any better awake either. When he did wake to attend school or fulfill an order from the king, you could practically see the waves of pure wrath and resentment surrounding him, only dispersing when Beel was close by. There were days where neither of them would leave their room, both just staring into space, little words exchanged. Although they didn’t need to. Their shared bond conveyed more than words could express. The pain amplified by this bond. When Belphie was awake, the twins would practically be inseparable. Neither going anywhere without the other.

This went on for a few months. One day after being rudely awakened from a nap, Belphie found himself wandering the house for a quiet place to sleep. Normally, he’d just head up to the attic, however today, he found his feet leading him down to the catacombs, towards Lilith’s, now Y/N’s casket. He doesn’t know what brought him here, but as soon as he saw it, his eyes started watering. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the memories he has assorted with the casket or if it was because Beel was sitting next to it, leaning his back against the side, crying. Sensing Belphie’s presence, Beel opened his eyes and turned his head towards his twin. He cracked a small, tired smile as Belphie moved to sit next to him. This was the first time Belphegor had seen Beelzebub cry since Y/N’s execution. Sitting next to his brother, he leaned into the larger demon letting his own tears flow. Their hands gravitated toward each other as they took hold. For the first time since the trial, they sat together in silence; tears flowing down their cheeks. Eventually, they fell asleep like this, holding each other's hands. It was Levi that found them. The 3rd born having come down to place the gift he got for Y/N from the convention on the casket. He spotted the twins sleeping with tear stained cheeks and left. He came back down a few minutes later with a blanket and a few snacks for when they awoke. Not wanting to disturb them, he set down the Ruri-chan kit and carefully draped the blanket over them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was envious of the twins connection and devotion to be there for each other. Then he remembered about their connection. He knows the twins can feel what the other is feeling. He realized that they were probably taking this the hardest, their shared connection amplifying the pain. His envy for them left, replaced by something resembling pity. He left them in the catacombs and retreated to his room. The twins awoke at the same time. They took notice of the blanket draped over them and the fruit tray placed next to them. They exchanged a smile as Beel leaned over to grab the tray, offering the fruit to Belphie first. Belphegor grabbed an apple slice and held it towards Beel. Beel opened his mouth accepting the slice and repeated the action with a clementine. They continued like this, feeding each other until the tray was empty. They stayed down in the catacombs for a little while longer, their bond conveying the vows they made to each other. They’d never leave each other's side. Always be there for their other half.

After that day, Beel would take responsibility for waking the youngest whenever he slept for too long and Belphie took responsibility for making sure Beel ate whenever he was awake. From that day forward, you’d never find one twin without the other close by. Their relationship strengthened, one relying on the other. Always being there when needed.

[alphasmoonlit-selfships]

Hiya! I noticed your f/o take over asks and would like to send some! 🌅,🎢, 💬 With Atsushi! Hope your tiger can answer! :3

The tall, silver haired gifted blinks in curiosity at the ask, smiling with interest, “Well, this is new.” He chuckled as he gives a wave, “I’m guessing by your question, I’m meant to respond instead of Dany.” Atsushi mused as he glanced over to the petite brunette in question, who was busy fussing over her work and unaware of the question sent over.

Atsushi chuckled warmly at this and shakes his head, “Well, I’m sure she won’t mind if I take over for a bit; we are both kind of responsible for this blog.” (Includes Jason too 💖).

“Well let’s jump in shall we! Oh! And before anything, we are in our mid-20’s here! So this is going down memory lane!” 🐯✨

🌅How did you two meet?

Oh wow, this feels like so long ago, almost 6 years to be exact! And it’s actually kind of funny now that I think about it! I’m sure Dany agrees.

The way we meet was actually…kind of similar to my situation, yet it has its key differences. For one, Danielle was more on the run and in hiding, she’d use her shadow ability a lot to steal items from small stores to get her food. She knew how to stay off the radar well enough that we had no idea what we were dealing with when the agency was contacted...

Many dubbed her as a ghost due to her shadow gift, which didn’t help Kunikida’s psyche or patience 😅 but Ranpo soon gave us more details after a good laugh. Explaining that this person was a gifted and had a knack for using her ability at night.

So we took the opportunity to find her; my tiger’s hyper senses helped in tracking her, especially when she took notice of how I was able to pick her out. Taking the lead from Kunikida and Dazai and chasing her to one of the warehouses by the Port.

While my ability at the time was well in picking her out, she still had an advantage using the darkness around the warehouse to traverse through the space without making so much as a sound. Suddenly a white light of something flies by and I’m almost struck with what looked like an arrow, yet it disappeared before I realized. It’s like it came from every direction and there was no sure idea on where she was.

Hmm… even when I tried to talk to her, she refused to appear. Only when I made the effort to fight back did she make some appearance, but just slightly with how quickly she left her ability and returned to it. But I got an upper hand on her once I got an idea of her repetitive jabs. Enough for her to reveal herself to me, but not really her.

Rather she appeared as her wolf, I was almost struck by her appearance, maybe out of surprise and awe than fear. My tiger can attest to the feeling, but we were quick to realize the situation were in and wasn’t the time to really admire a large wolf gifted that wasn’t keen on being captured.

And I will say, at the time I hadn’t transformed into a full grown tiger again, not since the Guild chaos. I had better control over my ability, especially due to the President’s influence, but willing that part of my ability again? I couldn’t in that moment with worry I might lose control. I could feel he wanted to leave and break free to protect me when Danielle’s ability overwhelmed me enough to pin me to the ground.

But I could just tell, if you could believe it, that she didn’t want to hurt me, more than anything, intimidate me into submission and scare me off. Overall, Dany didn’t want to fight, she didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I could see she wasn’t just a confused and uncontrolled animal gifted like I was. She was well-aware and just trying to get by from wherever she was running from.

It was then Kunikida and Dazai had caught up, gun fire seeming to break Danielle’s wolf ability attention from me and towards them. Fear clear as day, before Dazai nullified her ability.

By then, we were surprised by her appearance; clearly not expecting her to be small in stature and features not from around Japan. Needless to say, she didn’t automatically wake up like I had when I was found out about my ability. The nullification from Dazai’s ability taking a toll on her on her psyche and connection to her ability from what she later told me. So we took her back to the Agency...

Sorry, about the detail, but that was just our first unofficial meeting, first fight, I suppose you can say 🤔😅 but our first conversation was actually a few days after. Sadly, Kunikida insisted I be kept out of interrogating her, especially after we all found out Lucy knew her from her previous affiliation with the Guild. Letting her be the one up and front of getting Dany to talk when she woke up.

Which I suppose I understand…I would have liked to ease her into speaking too…I did just fine with Kyouka-chan…until she asked for food with my money… >.> plus my Tiger may have been an influence to want to meet this new animal gifted…

Anyway, we’re finally here, meeting time! Seems like I was the first to unofficially meet her and the last one to properly introduce myself to her 😅 by then, Danielle was given a proper uniform by the agency and more composed than her disheveled figure prior.

Hmm… maybe it’s our current relationship standing that making me think so fondly of her in that moment. Or maybe it’s how I've always seen her in all honesty. I admit I was taken aback by her, compared to how she fought me nights before, her eyes appeared more brighter, a unique violet due to her ability’s influence, yet held…a lot of story in them. She was cute, I admitted to myself at the time, her voice soft and held an accent under the Japanese she spoke.

I’m pretty sure we were both surprised by each other to an extent, likely from our first ever meeting and the underlying curiosity of our abilities… Up until Dany just voiced out her thoughts that I was the one she fought against nights ago… To which I began to apologize because of how we encountered and fought each other 😅

She apologized in return too, hesitant and almost embarrassed from attacking me…of course I didn’t fault her for the action, she was just trying to protect herself. And with the years of knowing her, I understand why she did what she did…

Nonetheless! I’m grateful to have been there to unofficially meet her the first time… I don’t think Dany would be where she would be if we didn’t catch up her, well me, because Dazai-San and Kunikida-kun definitely took their time 😅👀 (don’t let them know I said that!).

🎢What was the first date like?

Oh! 😳 our first date together? 🥰

Wow, I remember being so nervous to even ask out of just…fear of rejection. Of course silly thing to think about now, all things considered. And how I asked her was kind spontaneous and blunt after… a serious mission that Dany got hurt in. Feelings coming up to the surface thinking I was going to lose her without saying how I felt.

She said yes of course, once she was completely healed with Yosano’s ability. Dazai may have had a bit of high encouragement from me on what we could have done through the day and what Dany would have liked going into it. Which honestly would have been a bit to overwhelming for her in all the suggestions Dazai gave. Course what would have I expected from him 😅

Nonetheless, Dany and I went on an exploration through areas of Yokohama she wanted to visit, such as a national park that had a vibrant garden and array of ponds to have a meal in. It was during a nice spring season so not to hot or overbearing. She definitely loved every minute, especially a bit of cloud gazing. We talked about several stories we hadn’t talked about before and a few deep ones too, such as what she use to do with her family as a child and how this kind of surrounding reminded her about her old home.

We even took a walk through a small shopping strip, where I may have jumped into an uncharacteristic-of-me moment to want to buy her anything she found an interest in. To which Dany fussed over me to not spoil her with silly trinkets; “What could I possibly want more when I have the best thing in the world right beside me?” 😳🥰💖

I at least bought her a stuffed animal plush; she loves the soft, soft textured ones; loves running her hands through them or carrying them about our home; she really loves them. May even clip a favorite one to her belt; she definitely still has it somewhere on a shelf in our room. 😊

The rest of day went well into the night, where she took the lead in taking me a bit into the outer ring of Yokohama, where it’s more residential and less bright lights of the city. She surprised me with some stargazing, but also getting a really beautiful view of the city from a viewing platform near a hiking route. I had lived in Yokohama for about 3 years at that point and I was still in awe of the view from afar. Considering this was the first time I was viewing it from this new location, I was in taken almost with emotion.. Hmm, maybe recalling an old comment Dazai-san made about Yokohama being my city to protect...

But I was also in awe by Dany too, who rambled a bit on how she found this place later when she expanded her night runs. There was a soft glow on her that night that I remember and it left me kind of..in a daze ☺️ Normally quiet and not much of a talker, but I really enjoyed being the special one enough to hear more of her speak…I could listen to her for hours much like she tends to do for others a lot.

I recall her being surprised by my staring and may have gotten flustered and nervous for rambling the way she did. How silly of her to assume I wouldn’t mind listening to her talk for hours if she wanted to UwU I kind of took on a leap of confidence then to calm her down, taking a hold of her cheek to let her know what I thought...

Needless to say, she was definitely blushing hard in the twilight night. I, even more so when she caught me off guard to kiss me first… (I wanted to be the one to do so…but I suppose she could have a claim for that >.> but I can say I’ve claimed many more after that 💖🥰).

💬You have any pet names for S/I?

Oh plenty!~ Other than everyone commonly referring her to Dany-san or Danielle, mostly by Kunikida, I tend to call her Dany (affectionately); which now that I think of it, I am the only one that does.

Dazai did once and she kind of bristled at him with a glare, granted he was being his usual..flirtatious self with her 🙄 (I swear he does to tease both of us..)

But personal pet names I often refer to her as “Darling” or “My Darling” especially when she’s very anxious and visibly worried. She does appreciate it during those times the most. I’ve also called her “Love” a few times, but mostly out of teasing impersonation of her accent when she does it, it always makes her laugh, snort laugh too (which is adorable), when I try 🥰.

I also have learned a bit of Spanish through our short year of friendship before we became an official couple, where I’ve gradually learned more 💕. While I may not be up to par with her, I can still hold a bit of a conversation in the language; and in learning, I gave her a pet name of “My Star”, so “Mi Estrella ✨” (I do say it kind of how it sounds from the wording 😅 and not like how she says it, but she loves it nonetheless 🥺 this pet name makes her smile and visibly more affectionate 💕💖). It may also be my tiger ability coming out and saying that nickname to refer to her ability ^^;

I do call her “Mika” sometimes, but only in private and when comforting her… She wasn’t so keen to me calling her that in the beginning due to… Well, it took a lot of time for her to get use to it, even when I told her that if she didn’t want me to, I wouldn’t call her that. But she slowly insisted, eventually becoming more of the endearing name she wanted it to sound like with me, and told me it was okay to call her that. It’s not the most common pet name for her, but she appreciates and often asks me to call her that when she is feeling down and in need of reassurance.

I also call her “Kitten” occasionally, in whatever blissful and relaxing time we have together, private or in public. It definitely confused a few of the others on while I settled on calling her that when she technically is a wolf… but it just stuck and Dany doesn’t seem to mind it all! (The silver haired young man looks thoughtful with a smile, recalling how flustered and how she purrs quietly when he says that to her) If anything I think her wolf likes it too, probably another instance of my tiger talking out of me. 😅✨

Be on the look out for a post she made about that “Kitten” nickname! ✨ it’s been on her drafts for a long while now cause she wanted to include a drawing, which she has but knowing her she wants things to be perfect… Honestly everything she does is just... amazing 💕 She needs to realize that more, I’ll make sure she does UwU 🥰😊!

Thank you for the ask anon! This is the first time I've ever done this and I definitely don't mind accepting any more in the future!

Dany can be very busy sometimes with work and tends to get mentally exhausted very quickly. She also tries so hard to be attentive to things that she forgets to care for herself ;;w;; Anything to lighten the load for My Darling 💖🐯 I know another ask came around! So I'll be sure to answer that as soon as I can! — Atsushi 🐯 🌙

[captainstevenrogerswrites]

The Ice Prison Revolution

What happens when your right to be human and live is taken away from you? Your fight for pure survival can be bloody but its not a choice, someone has to get back your simple rights to live or what is there left ????

A Lucy x Curtis crossover.

@missusrogerswrites​

There's a tunnel....A tunnel?....yeah a fucking long one.

The color drained from Curtis' face as realization hit him hard, they were set up in the most vicious way. The tunnel meant within seconds this part of the train would be pitch black and only those night goggled killers would be able to see.....a clear disadvantage for Curtis and the tail crew. 

"EVERYBODY BACK" He yelled at the top of his voice towards his people, somehow he had to save as many as he could, he wouldn't let the other side win, he couldn't. As soon as his words left his mouth, there it was....pitch black engulfs them all like a blanket, but this was smothering blanket, a dangerous one, one that would get them all killed and yet he couldn't allow it.

They were blind and yet his hearing could hear better by the minute, the slashing of his people, that sound chilled his blood, he was powerless, he had to find a way through this, no more of his people needed to die here, it just wasn't fair when all they wanted was to be treated fairly. Just when he thought the slashing was the worst sound he picked up in the room, there was another that chilled his blood even more.....click.....click.....click....that bastard  was  counting how many of his people they were killing, they were making sure they was going to kill off exactly seventy-four percent of their people, just like that bitch had taunted them moments before.

The tunnel suddenly allowed light to flicker through the windows as the train travelled through the tunnel and yet the flickering held no refuge for them at all, if anything it half blinded them, unable to focus on fighting back for pure survival. This may have been a game for the other side, but for him and his people, this was a fight for survival and there was no other way out.

Suddenly he stayed still, the haunted silence almost deafening in that moment, was he in a trance or had the fighting stopped? His mind  desperately trying to find a way out of this situation, whether or not he understood the silence, he couldn't waste the precious few seconds to not come up with a plan. He had to save his people, there was no other way around it.  Memory of the boy grabbing the carboard sleeve of matches suddenly flooded his mind and hitting him like a thousand bullets, he knew exactly what they needed "CHEN, WE NEED FIRE!" His people repeating his words down to the rest of them, they needed the fire, the fire was their only hope of seeing where the fuck their bastards were so they at least had half a shot here. 

Fire soon spread across his people as their hand made torches alit. They could see, finally, their enemy stood in shock and Curtis and his people took full advantage, turning the axes and weapons on the people that wanted to slaughter them as if they were animals.  His own axe wielding through their enemy as if they were jelly and he didn't care, if he didn't kill them, they were going to kill his people.

He heard the scream, making him look towards the front, Madam Mason had been hit in the back of the leg by a knife. This was his chance, he had to get to her, he had to use her to get them to Wilfred and stop this once and for all. Her people seemed to pick up on his plan, he wondered what gave it away? Was his determination written all over his face or was it just something they would do if the shoe was on the other foot? Either way he didn't care nor did he had time to think on it.

He was suddenly given a choice as he stared back, hearing the scream from Edgar and the Madam he knew they needed as a hostage. His head flipped back and forth between the two. They were trying to carry her to safety and his best friend, his second in command was being held at knife point. He didn't want to make that choice, how could he? Screwing his eyes shut, he knew what he HAD to do compared to what he WANTED to do and in that moment, he turned and ran away from Edgar and towards the injured woman, trying not to stop or hear the scream of him as he did.

"STOP!"  STOP EVERYBODY!" "DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" "EVERYBODY STOP!" Both his words and Madam Mason's echoed around the carriage. His gun pressing into the side of her neck as he walked her through the carriage to make sure everyone stopped, especially on her side.  He saw Edgar's body and swallowed, he couldn't fall to pieces now, not while they  had the upper hand. They had to survive, no other way around this now, everyone was now secure, pushing the Madam over to some of his people to hold, his eyes fell upon Gilliam, watching him close Edgar's eyes.

Falling to his knees beside him, he couldn't forgive himself. He had let him die, he didn't deserve forgiveness and yet after Gilliam told the survivors to wash themselves in the water supply sanction ahead and they made their way into the showers, most of them not ever seeing one, Gilliam turned to him, Curtis removed his beanie hat and sighed as he prepared himself for the verbal onslaught and anger form the old man. 

Tears threatened to fall as he looked ahead at his people in the showers, they deserved such a simple thing like keeping clean but this was a luxury to them, how in God's name was that right? They were treated like vermin not people. Gilliam spoke to him suddenly in a gentle voice, making him look back from his people to the man he looked up to. A single tear managed to stream down his face as he heard his words, why wasn't he blaming him? He wasn't a good man, how could he be? Yet, Gilliam sat there telling him everything good was in him and he wasn't given a choice. 

Now, that his people were cleaned up, he sat staring at Madam Mason and her pathetic excuses to keep her alive, she wasn't that smart that hostages aren't as good dead but they played along with it. He called her bluff about calling him, of course Wilfred wouldn't care about her, she had lost her use for him, she was just another pawn to his control over them, a control that they were going to take back. Leaving her  with some of his people, he had grown tired of her whining lies and needed a break before he did actually rip her from limb to limb. They had come too far and the ones that had died would've died for nothing if they turned back, he knew that turning back wasn't an option but going forward.....he feared losing more people.

"Curtis they found his daughter, they have her hostage up ahead. We could really teach him a lesson by using his daughter..." Curtis's eyes shot up at the man "what?" At first he couldn't believe what he was hearing, as far as they heard, and it was rumor's at best, Lucy, his daughter rarely came out of the engine room, let alone out of his sight. His eyes widened a little "shit" he sprinted towards the next carriage, the water dripping from the showers falling on him and yet he didn't care. It didn't take him long to find them, three of his men straddled over the woman, holding her legs and arms as she struggled, they were taunting her, using themselves to over power her and in that moment, he feared what they were planning to do to her. 

He didn't stop until he reached them, yanking two of the men off her, they looked at him ready to fight and protest him " we are NOT animals" he snarled before turned and grabbing the third man's arm that was on her inner thigh "We are better than this" he heard them try and justify that she was his daughter and the enemy and they do far worse to them than that. "So then we are no better than them, we are not savage animals, we never were. We are fighting for our survival but we will NOT lose our humanity on the way. Now get back to the others and if anyone ever touches her again, they will have me to deal with. She's mine" He eyed them all, almost daring them to disobey him, but they backed down, even if begrudgery and left them alone. He was sure they would wonder if he would deal with her all on his own instead and he didn't allow them to think any different. He hated that some people easily lost their way for revenge, but in a way he understood why they put their anger on her and wanted to make sure she paid for their wrong doings.

When he was sure they were truly alone, he looked at her, his eyes trailing over her body, but not for reasons she probably thought. she was clean, the cleanest person he had seen for years, not that should've surprised him, Wilfred probably gave her the best of everything and why wouldn't he? He should hate her for that, but how was it her fault for his actions? Crouching down infront of her, he buttoned back up the top buttons of her shirt and leaned over to grab the  blanket behind her , wrapping it over her shoulders, seeing her react like he was going to probably assault her like the others wanted too but he didn't, it hadn't even been an option he would take. It was a disgusting and degrading thought and yet he had a good idea that's what she thought of him. Her voice was timid sounding , not at all what he imagined her to sound. All the others seemed to have this arrogant, authoritive tone in their voice but hers was soft, timid and sounded like that of an angel. Her question of why he saved her and wasn't attacking her struck him, oh of course, that's all they were, just mindless animals that raped and pillaged. 

Licking his lips, he shook his head and smiled but it was a sad one "Why wouldn't I save you and not rape you? Just because I don't have the luxury of being spotless doesn't mean the dirt makes me a heathen" He sighed, chewing his lip then sat fully down infront of her but gave her room "Look, I'm sorry for them, they have had their loved ones murdered and lost in their grief but that's no excuse, they wont touch you again, Ill make sure of it.... but you are coming with us. "

[hopelikethemoon]

after the storm (Ezra x Reader) [smut]

title: after the storm rating: explicit  length: 3,600 warnings: angst, smut (female receiving oral, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex) notes: set after Prospect, dedicated to the queen of Ezra (as I have decreed it) @rzrcrst​. gif stolen from @lucy-sky​

Six years ago an arrangement was made. The casual sort of arrangement that comes about after a long night of drinking refined Jeev polish and falling into bed with the one constant in your life. 

You’ve known Ezra since the start of your prospecting career; when you were wide-eyed and green behind the ears and he was too damn cocky for his own good. You’d always had a little crush on him — how could you not? He’s handsome, rugged, charming, and his tongue can cut and soothe. 

You overlook the fact that he held a blaster to your temple on your first expedition. As it was, a few hours later Ezra learned that turnabout’s fair play when you pinned him down and stole his cache. That, you’re certain, was the moment he developed his own brand of infatuation with you. After that, there was always a heat in his eyes that scorched you. That made desire bloom within your soul. 

That look (and the Jeev polish) was what led you into his bed. You can’t forget the way his mouth feels against your skin, the texture of his hair between your fingers, the poetry he writes with his tongue between your thighs. You promise each other, then and there, in the hazy morning glow of twin suns, you’ll make time for this. To explore this connection further. 

But the nature of prospecting means you’re pulled to opposite sides of the galaxy frequently and without reason. It’s one of Keeva’s small miracles that you cross paths at all. You try to keep yourself clean; legitimate ventures on well-turned planets — while Ezra skirts around criminality in the furthest, vilest regions. 

Genuine connections are rare in your line of work. Everyone is out for themselves. In it to win it — with or without a little backstabbing along the way. Sometimes you question whether the connection you formed with Ezra was even genuine. It eats at you when you’re floating through the black; in the long expanses of loneliness between serendipitous moments with him. You forget the way flecks of light play in his dark eyes, the curl of his lips as he lazily smirks, the warmth of his voice when he’s murmuring to you. It feels like more than a passing arrangement. 

If only it were possible to pin him down. But he’s a bird you refuse to cage, so you let him go and hope he’ll come back to you when he’s ready. You cling to the fleeting moments; no more than a week strung together with the stolen nights dotted across five years. Like stars on a dark night — fleeting bright spots that were already fading the moment that they’re seen. 

You haven’t seen him in a year. You look for him at every bustling port, pore over ship-out lists on wayward adventures — hoping to see his name among them. You fear the worse as your hope wanes. He’s absent from his usual haunts, his name omitted from familiar voyages. No one has seen or heard of him in months. 

He’s dead. That’s the only event that would drive him out of the game. He’s dead or dying or simply gone. 

It burns you alive at night when your emotions get the best of you. Because you never told him how you felt. Never confessed that you lived for nights shared with him. That you looked for him wherever you went, that no one compared to him. That you had carried the burden of long-suffering affection despite fears that he would never feel the same way in return. 

He comes to you in dreams. Distant recollections like ghosts that cling to your skin in the morning. You miss the warmth of his body beside yours, a gift you only knew a half-dozen times. You wish you could pull on that feeling like an old well-loved shirt. But his memory is as fleeting as the moments you shared with him. Your recollection of him is slipping through your fingers. 

You’ll never see him again. You convince yourself that he is gone, his body reclaimed by the distant forests he traversed, reduced to merely nutrients that will feed new minerals to harvest. He’d laugh at that thought — you can almost imagine how he’d react to that. But you can’t remember the exact timber of his voice anymore and his response is silent as it slips past lips that fade from your mind’s eye.

There’s a hole-in-the-wall cantina on Vector 7B, it’s the birthplace of your arrangement with Ezra. There are strangers sitting in the round booth in the back of the crowded bar — strangers laughing and carousing in the booth where Ezra once sat. Can you still remember the weight of his hand as it rested on yours beneath the table? How did his lips feel when they first brushed against yours?

You tear your eyes away from the booth, lost in thought and comforted by phantoms of the past. As you turn back towards the bar, you doubt yourself. The phantom is there — sitting at the bar; made of blood and bone and the breath of life. He is travel-worn and weary, the weight of the galaxy rests on his shoulders. He hasn’t seen you yet, or if he has he pretends he hasn’t. 

His left hand curls around the copper cup of polish and your brows furrow. In all the moments you’ve played back in your mind, you’ve never once recalled him favoring his left hand. Faded memories return in flashes — his left hand had found your leg beneath the table while his right curled around his drink. 

It’s not him. 

The phantom turns, keenly aware of a stranger’s eyes on him. Only, neither of you are strangers. It is Ezra. Your eyes find that ridiculous patch of blonde among his tousled chestnut hair, before settling on his dark and stormy gaze. 

Your legs carry you towards him, fingers shaking as you rest them against the bar beside him. “Hey.” You offer casually, chest tight with anxiety. 

“I feared my prolonged absence would render our arrangement obsolete, little bird.” He murmured, reigniting something deep within your soul. His voice was warm, a balm that soothed worries, ushering them out the door. 

“Impossible.” You assured him, chewing on your bottom lip as you looked away from him in search of the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.” You remarked cooly, before leaning an elbow against the bar as you angled yourself towards Ezra. 

There’s always been an undercurrent of the morose about him. A looming darkness that settles just beneath the surface. But he masks it well with colorful prose, the charming curl of his lips, and the smooth comfort of his accent. It’s not until your eyes wander from his face that you realize why he’s holding his cup with his left hand. 

“Ezra—”

“Don’t.” He says with a short jerk of his head. “How have you been, little bird? It’s been nearly a lifetime since we crossed paths.” 

You pull your eyes away from his missing limb and stare at his face. “Not for a lack of trying. I looked for you.” You confessed, disregarding fears that you might sound needy. It’s always been casual, this thing between you. It only happens if you cross paths by happenstance, not if you force it into existence. 

He hums thoughtfully and the silence that settles leaves you feeling like your confession is tantamount to a sin. Had he intended to see this arrangement left to the past? A thought crosses your mind, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. What if he hadn’t thought of you the way you longed for him? 

“I’m sorry.” You offer quietly, grabbing your drink off the bar as you start to slip away from him. Are you sorry you found him? Sorry you looked for him? Sorry that he’s not a phantom you can wistfully mourn over? 

“Wait.” 

You falter, half-tempted to keep your forward momentum. You glance back at him, brows furrowed. 

“Stay?”

You return to the bar, perching on the stool beside him. Ezra is never as quiet as he is tonight. Even on the bleakest days, he finds reason to speak. Whether it’s technobabble about some new device he’s encountered or tall tales from past voyages. He finds a reason to fill the silence, not let it hang between you in frozen suspension. 

“Tread lightly,” Ezra starts abruptly, dragging his fingers through his hair as he settles you with a look. “Keeva has chosen to remind me that I am merely a mortal, subject to the same weary tolls as the lot of them.” He jerks his head towards the other bar patrons. “I loathe the thought of departing from here into another night of solace in the inky black.” 

Your heart stutters as you stare at him, pulse thrumming in your ears. His earnestness gives you pause. His arm is not the only loss he’s suffered. There’s something less about him, something you overlooked in your haste to remember him.

“Little bird, do not claim to have looked for me if you only intend to release me at dawn break.” Ezra’s shoulders sag as he sighs wearily, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Spare me the allusion of forthright promises.” 

“Ezra,” You start, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. Your touch is light, afraid to startle him out of your grasp. “Any promises I intend to make, I intend to keep.” You offer him a small smile as you study his pained expression. “I missed you.” 

“And I you.” He carefully moves his arm beneath your touch, until his hand wraps around your own. You had forgotten how perfectly they fit together, they tingle that plays through you as his fingers glide between yours. “The Green tried to claim me. But how could it, when I was already claimed by another?”

The noise of the cantina around you fades away, the edges of your vision blurring so that all you see is him. This specter that has haunted your every moment. You can feel his pulse beneath the tightening grip of your hand. “By who?” 

Ezra’s lips part with the faintest wry grin. “By you, little bird.” 

You nearly knock the barstool over in your pursuit to kiss him. Your feet barely hit the ground as you throw all sense of decorum to the wind. You cradle his jaw as you bridge the distance between you, making up for the lost months that kept you apart. The memories of before are slowly rebuilt in your mind with the familiar tilt of his head as his lips drag against yours. 

You lose track of time. The bar is abandoned in favor of the accommodations he’s paid for down the street — closer than your own room that’s across town. Neither of you want to waste any time reacquainting yourselves with each other. 

Layers are shedded in the haste of the moment — your layers. Ezra remains steadfastly clothed, resisting your attempts to strip away the barriers between you. The heavy fabric of his program-issued cargo pants drags against your bare thighs as he drapes himself over you, your fingers catch in the soft knit of his shirt, clinging to him as his mouth retraces familiar routes. 

Ezra maps out a galaxy of stars on your skin, featherlight kisses left on freckles and scars, blemishes that earn lavish attention from a mouth you’d nearly forgotten. You realize, as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your lower belly, that he hasn’t touched you yet. His fingers had curled around yours at the bar, but his hand has been suspiciously idle. Fingers peel away your clothes, but they never dare to brush your skin. 

That concern is fleeting, however. Your worry about the warmth of his hand is traded for overwhelming bliss of his mouth as his tongue sweeps between your slick folds. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this — your own fingers are pale imitations of what his mouth can do. He knows exactly how to feast upon you. His tongue is his most talented tool. His lips encircle that little bundle of nerves, sucking until you keen out his name. His focus shifts, thrusting his tongue into you, shallowly filling your hollow center. 

You bow up off the bed, hips grinding into his devious mouth. He already has you trembling, your cunt clenching around nothing, save for the quick press of his tongue into you. His hand finally makes contact, pressing firmly on your lower stomach to keep you pinned down to the bed. You want more.

“Ezra.” You pant out, digging your heels into the mattress as you let your legs spread wider for him. His tongue focuses on your clit with short, tight sweeps. Right as you reach the precipice of your release, he works two rough fingers into your soaking center — sliding in with familiar ease, giving you something to clench around as you come apart. 

He doesn’t relent. You expect him to, you even anticipate his movements back up the bed. Shadows of past encounters, patterns still burned into your muscles. Yet he remains between your thighs, the tip of his tongue manipulating your throbbing clit. His fingers work in and out of you, a languid pace that prolongs your orgasm. It’s too much and not enough all at once. 

His fingers stay buried within you, curved just right to make the edges of your vision fade to black. His mouth abandons your cunt, lips trailing along your inner thigh. He peppers your skin with tender kisses, before he drags his teeth over the soft flesh. He leaves tooth-shaped indents in your skin, his tongue lavishing over the marks left in his wake. 

You sink back into the mattress, chest heaving as you feel a second release building in the embers of the first that burned through you. Your body throbs in response to his every touch, to the dance of his breath over your skin, to the subtle way he flexes his fingers within you. He bites down on your inner thigh again, harder this time. He roughly strokes his thumb over your clit as he curls his fingers within you. It’s enough to set you off again. You are unashamed of the way you bend to his whims, the rush of moisture that coats his fingers. The things he can make your body do. 

You hardly recognize your voice as you croak out a broken sentence, stringing together words that beg him to give you more. You want his cock, want the weight of his body over yours, the crush of his hips grinding into yours. But he denies you of that pleasure. He kisses your cunt sweetly as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I am not worthy, little bird.” He whispers as he settles onto the mattress beside you.

Your head lolls to the side to look at him. His soft mustache, lips, and chin glisten with your arousal as he lays there — staring up at the ceiling. The two orgasms he’s pulled from you have rendered you boneless; your mind swimming with pleasure but you manage to hone in on what he’s said. Your eyes follow a path down his left arm, where his hand is wedged beneath the waist of his pants. His breath stutters, face etched with quiet focus. 

Despite how heavily you��re weighed down by satiation, you move closer to him. “Ezra, stop.” His pace falters as he turns to look at you. The storm in his eyes has returned, you swear you can see the lightning in his dark gaze. “Will you let me?”

His jaw sets hard and with a faint jerk of his head your request is acquiesced. 

You curled your legs beneath you, sitting up beside him as you reach out to open his pants. First you unfasten the belt, push the button through the hole, before dragging the zipper down. You push them open, reaching in to free his cock from his boxers. The storm is put to rest as his eyes flutter close, his head sinking back into the mattress behind him. 

He groans out something breathy that resembles your name, the only word that seems to slip from his tongue as you stroke his cock. You take your time, twisting your fingers around his shaft, your thumb dragging over the weeping head of him. You want to make him feel as good as he made you. 

You want to know why he doesn’t think he’s worthy of you. Why he lays fully dressed, while you sit bare before him. He’s hiding something from you. His arm isn’t the only loss he’s suffered. Perhaps, you realize, it’s the revelation itself. The Green tried to take his life and through that he realized that you had already laid claim to his soul. 

He comes apart in your palm, hips rocking upwards as he spills over your fingers. He’s far quieter than you’re used to. It’s been a year and a few odd months, but you still remember the litany of filthy things he’s whispered to you in the heat of the moment. Your stomach drops at the thought that he’s changed and perhaps you’ve lost that man for good. 

He seems content to fall asleep like that and it’s an exhausting uphill battle to convince him to divest himself of his clothes. You want him laid bare as you are. He complies, burrowing into the covers beside you. Still not touching you. 

Your imagined reunion stood in stark contrast with the reality. You had imagined laughter, Ezra’s arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his words soothing your longing. Instead you feel small beside him, like it’s wrong to care about him as strongly as you do. But you know the war within him is not solely bound to your existence. He is not yours to fix. 

The morning welcomes you with rain. You hear it dancing on the metal roof of the Inn, the slow drip of it from a faulty downspout outside the window. It’s comforting, strangely. All the thunder and the lightning has given way to a downpour and you’re content to get wet from it. Perhaps the rain is the reason why Ezra is still resting beside you, breathing even and expression softened by sleep. It’s his room, but you had worried that you’d wake up alone. The rain has trapped him in this room with you. 

In the bleak light of the window you can make out the ruined skin at the end of his right arm. It’s a neat enough amputation, but you know enough to know that no medical professional performed it. He lost it in the Green. He lost a lot in the Green.

“I can feel your casual attempt at scrutiny, little bird.” Ezra drawled out as his eyes slowly opened. “Forgive me if I have no desire of being cast for your pity.”

“I’m not pitying or scrutinizing you Ezra.” You hissed with more venom than you intended. “I am simply wondering what happened to you.” 

He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he stares up at the ceiling. “I was struck down for being myself. Greed and treachery betrayed our cordial agreements.” He turns his head to look at you, brows furrowed. “Why is it that Keeva chose you? You tread a path towards righteous indignation and I wallow in the mire of deceit.”  

Ezra draws you towards him, wrapping his left arm around your waist as you lean against his chest. His breath is warm against the top of your head as he holds you. The silence is no longer oppressive — the steady beating of his heart and the pull of oxygen in and out of his chest is a comfort. 

“What happened last night?” You finally questioned, tilting your head so you could look at him.

“Oh, little bird.” Ezra sighed heavily and shook his head. “I resolved to put distance between us, to keep myself away from you. Foolhardy at best as I still managed to drag these weary bones here — with the shallow hope that you’d find me.” His eyes flickered to yours. “My soul longs for yours, but I don’t wish to taint it. To darken the brightest star in my sky.” 

You silenced him with a kiss. 

At first Ezra doesn’t respond, he remains stone-still until you shift to straddle him. Your hair tumbles in waves around his face as you lean over him. He tangles his fingers in it, clutching at the back of your head as he surges up to meet your lips. This was what you’d longed for last night; you’d touched the flames, but you hadn’t felt the fire. 

He lets you take control at first. Helps as you shove the covers down so you can wrap your fingers around his cock. Ezra roughly grasps at your breast as you sink down onto him. You’re still so sensitive from last night, but your body greedily accepts cock.

Your pace is uneven, it’s not enough. 

Ezra seizes the opportunity, ever the greedy lover. He pushes you back onto the mattress, his cock never slipping from your cunt as he moves above you. You can still hear the rain over the slap of flesh against flesh. It’s heaven to be under him again, to be full of him. He might be afraid to darken your soul, but you’ve opened the window to let the storm in. 

“Are you going to come for me, birdie?” Ezra questioned, lips dragging over your collarbone. “I long to feel your tight little cunt clutch at my cock.” His voice is nearly as rough as the pace of his hips. Raw and thick with desire. 

Your nails bit into his shoulders, into his hips. You left crescent marks on his skin in an attempt to keep him. You can feel your orgasm rising through you, your entire core is tingling with the intensity of the pleasure. 

“Fuck.” Ezra hissed out as you clenched around him. “That’s it little birdie, come for me. Let me feel you.” He lowered his voice, lips brushing against your ear. “Want you to spill all over my cock, like you came for me last night. Such a filthy little thing.” 

The rough tone of his words did you in. Your legs tightened around his hips as you came apart, your inner walls clenching around his cock as it split you open and pulled you back together. “Please.” You whispered, rocking into his driving thrusts. 

Ezra’s hips roughly pressed into yours as he buried the length of his cock within you. You could feel the throb of him as he came apart, filling you with everything he had to give. You moaned, unabashedly, dragging him down so you could kiss him. 

As you came down from the high of the moment; settled under his weight as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, you realized that the storm had passed. Maybe he wasn’t the man you first met six years ago, but he’s still the man you came to love. It’s unfair that he thinks he’s unworthy of you. So you silently vow to always remind him that the stars still shine after the storm clouds part the night sky. 

[rookie-ramsey]

Baby Blues, Chapter 12 (Bryce X MC)

Description: Bryce and MC can handle just about anything. Hopefully, pregnancy and parenting fall into the “just about anything” category.

Preview: “I have no embarrassment.” Bryce shook his head. “It’s not possible to shame me.”

“We’ll see about that when Emily sees your kindergarten pictures.” Keiki left the room and returned a minute later with a photo album. She handed it to Emily and grinned. “It’s the dorkiest thing you’ll ever see.”

Previous Chapter

“What’s wrong?” Emily lunged to her feet when Bryce stood up and shoved his phone in his pocket.

“There was a break-in. Keiki said two guys kicked in the door and started ransacking the place.”

“What?” Emily’s eyes widened. Her heart pounded. “Are Keiki and Ava okay? What-“

“They’re not hurt, but the guys who broke in are on the loose.” Bryce grabbed her hand as they all but ran out of the park. “Keiki already called the cops. They’re on their way, but that’s no guarantee the burglars won’t come back.”

“Oh god…” Feeling nauseous, Emily threw open the car door and sat in the passenger seat. Bryce drove as quickly as possible to the apartment building. By the time he arrived a few minutes later, a cop car was parked outside.

As they rushed inside and to their floor, Emily inhaled sharply at the shoe marks on the slightly open door. They stepped inside to see two cops examining their living room, where Keiki sat on the couch and Ava rested nearby in her portable crib.

Emily scooped Ava up while Keiki threw her arms around Bryce. “I don’t know what they took. They kicked in the door and I just grabbed Ava and went in the nursery and locked the door…”

“It doesn’t matter what they took. What matters is that you and Ava didn’t get hurt.” Bryce hugged his sister and reached his free arm out to Emily and Ava. He hugged the three of them close for several moments.

“We’ve never seen these guys before. It looks like they broke in thinking nobody would be here to witness, then left.” One of the officers handed them a card. “Once you’ve identified what’s missing, call us. We’ll try to get back whatever’s missing, but we can’t make any promises.”

Emily took the card and set it on the coffee table. “How can we be sure they won’t come back tonight?”

“Chances are, they won’t. They usually break in when the occupants aren’t home. They probably broke in here, realized there was someone home, and darted. But we’re putting a bolt lock on your door as a precaution.”

Bryce didn’t look convinced. “Was our apartment the only one?”

“As of now, yes.” The officer nodded. “They may have seen the two of you leave and thought you were the only ones living here. Unless you can think of a reason why they would single you out, it was probably random.”

Once the police officers left, Bryce strapped Ava into her sling carrier so she would be nearby as they straightened up the apartment. Their laptops and a few pieces of jewelry were missing, but the stolen items paled in comparison to the mere fact that strangers had broken into their home.

Emily wrote down everything they determined missing, trying to keep her hand from shaking. Her grip tightened on the pen. Bryce reached out and touched her hand, gently steadying it.

She finished the list and set it on the table with the police officer’s contact information. With a sigh, she leaned into Bryce and hugged him. “And to think we were gone less than an hour…”

“Hey.” Bryce wrapped an arm around her waist. “I know what you mean, but we had no way of knowing this would happen.”

“I know.” Emily touched Ava’s cheek. The infant nuzzled her head into the fabric of the sling and yawned. “At least they only took a few things and left. It’s no big deal replacing stuff. It could have been a lot worse.”

Bryce smoothed a hand over his daughter’s fuzzy head. “I know. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to Keiki and Ava.”

Emily nodded against his shoulder. “Is Keiki okay?”

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Bryce freed Ava from her sling and handed her to Emily.

“Okay. I’ll get some pizza delivered for dinner. I don’t really feel like going out again.”

Nodding, Bryce kissed her forehead and left the living room to check on his sister. Soon, they all gathered in the kitchen to eat the pizza Emily ordered. After dinner, Bryce and Emily sat on the couch with Ava.

Emily settled Ava in her arms and held her bottle to her lips. When the infant latched on, Emily leaned into Bryce. “What an evening.”

“Yep.” He slipped an arm around her. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Emily nodded. “But I don’t know if I’ll be ready to go to sleep just yet.”

Keiki shook her head. “Me neither.”

Bryce grinned. “Sounds like we need a Lahela family fun night to distract ourselves from our tragic evening.”

“I think so,” Emily agreed.

“I’ll get Bryce’s embarrassing pictures,” Keiki suggested.

“I have no embarrassment.” Bryce shook his head. “It’s not possible to shame me.”

“We’ll see about that when Emily sees your kindergarten pictures.” Keiki left the room and returned a minute later with a photo album. She handed it to Emily and grinned. “It’s the dorkiest thing you’ll ever see.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Emily handed Ava to Bryce. She opened the album and laughed at a baby picture. “Aw.”

Bryce chuckled. “I was cute, huh?”

“You were. Ava looks a lot like you as a baby.”

“She does.” Bryce gave Ava a gentle bounce. She let out a squeal and broke into a toothless smile. “See? She agrees.”

Emily flipped through the pages. There weren’t many pictures compared to her own childhood albums, but there were enough for her to giggle at her fiancé’s childhood snapshots. “Is this you in kindergarten?”

“Yeah. I was the first kid to lose their front teeth because I thought I’d try showing off for everyone. I wiped out on the swing set and knocked my two front teeth out.”

“Poor little you. But it made for a cute picture.” Emily turned the pages until she landed on one of him in high school. “There’s the leather jacket you told me about!

Bryce feigned hurt. “You act surprised. You didn’t believe me?”

“Not completely,” she admitted, unable to stop grinning. “Your hair, though. What were you thinking?”

Keiki shook her head. “He wasn’t.”

Bryce chuckled. “I don’t know why my 17 year old self ever thought I looked intimidating in leather and long hair.”

“You look precious. Not intimidating at all.” Emily grabbed her phone and took a picture of it. She turned to the next page to reveal a picture of Bryce in the same leather jacket, but with a tiara perched on his head. “Keiki, something tells me you were involved in this.”

“You bet.” The teen smirked. “He needs to retake that picture when Ava’s old enough to talk him into doing stuff like that.”

“I will,” Bryce confirmed.  

Once Emily reached the end of the book, she closed it and set it aside. “I feel like I know you on a new level now.”

“Good.” Bryce grinned. “My goal is to never stop surprising you.”  

By the time they crawled into their bed, it was nearly two in the morning. Emily yawned and snuggled into Bryce’s chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and closed her eyes. “I know they probably won’t be back, but… honestly, I can’t get over the fact that someone broke into our home. Our home is supposed to be safe.”

Bryce tightened his arms around her. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. His fingers smoothed over her hair. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded tiredly. “Let’s try to get some rest.”

“Good night.”

XXXXXX

In the days that passed, the shock of the break-in slowly subsided, but never fully went away. The police kept them updated for two days before seemingly forgetting their case. Emily and Bryce installed a security alarm and a lock designed to lessen the chance of the door being kicked in again.

On their first day off after the incident, Bryce held Ava as she swatted at the rattle in his hand. Her fingers grazed it, making it rattle. She huffed and swatted again, this time curling her fingers around its handle.

“There you go.” Bryce released the rattle. Ava wiggled her hand and furrowed her face when it made its sound. A knock on the door startled her, making her drop it. “Let’s see who’s here.” He carried her to the door and peered through the peephole.

Immediately, he frowned when he saw the people on the other side. He swung open the door and scowled at their uninvited visitors.

“Mom? Dad?”

Next Chapter

Note: When I started this fic, I expected it to be 6 to 8, MAYBE 10 chapters of pure fluff. But then I decided it needed to be more intense, so... enjoy.

Tags: @elephant9998 / @mvalentine / @fortunatelywaywardsandwich / @whatchique / @achalantspitfire / @lahellacute / @virtuallytakenby / @oofchoices / @dang-lahela / @misswhit12 / @drakeismyweakness / @sitsoncornflake / @a-tragical-tale / @bitchloveskcbaseball / @laceandlula / @paulfwesley / @bloomingsivan / @anotherbeingsworld / @vamped99 / @malvolari-take-my-soul / @doctorsurferbro / @loveellamae / @drethanfreakingramsey / @trappedinfandoms / @elladines / @macy-ray85 / @mrsdrlahela / @lucy-268 / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk / @drakewalker04  / @crystalchrysalis19

[be-dazzled]

Day 2: Alluring Fairy Tail World Pairing: Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser Series: Fairy Tail Rating: M for sensitive language and content

It was a long road ahead and Gray’s beaten body couldn’t wait to jump into his bed for a much deserving rest. A day or two would do.

The ice-make mage got tired of listening to flame-brain’s whining two towns ago. Flame brain had the audacity to complain when he was the reason of the three day delay. Okay, okay maybe not just him. There was Erza and Gray to blame too. Lucy was crying all the way down to Magnolia. Something about the reward cut and her apartment rent. Gray was just thankful Natsu shut his mouth up before he fed him Erza’s luggage, wagon included, to keep him quiet. That would make them move faster.

Team Natsu arrived at the foot of Magnolia. Gray sighed in contentment. Finally, some good news. Gray couldn’t wait to reach his apartment.

 “Oi! Isn’t this Juvia?”

 Gray’s heart jumped a little hearing the name – her name. He immediately searched for her vibrant blue hair in the crowd, only to find a cherry one standing next to a newsstand, holding what appeared to be a magazine in his hand. Gray scoffed inwardly. Since when did that flame brain start reading or even become interested? Then, he suddenly remembered something. Gray took a second look at that little magazine flame-brain was holding. To Gray’s horror, Sorcerer’s Weekly’s latest issue was now all over Magnolia. The vibrant blue hair he was searching for was on that issue.

 “What? Let me see.”

 Erza walked up to the newsstand, leaving her wagon behind. Team Natsu followed, minus Gray, and gathered around the stand to get a hold of the copy and confirm the news themselves.

 “Wow, it really is her.”

 Once Gray heard the confirmation from Lucy, he dashed to the newsstand and snatched the copy from Natsu’s hands.

 “Hey!” complained the Fire Dragon Slayer. But they fell on deaf ears.

 Gray perused the magazine, running his troubled eyes from top to bottom and then back up. His midnight eyes turned green, figuratively, as he confirmed that it was really Juvia, his Juvia, on the cover and she was too provocative – with her point finger resting on her lips, telling the viewer to keep quiet. And her legs? Her legs were wide open, leaving so little in the imagination.

 Gray’s blood boiled in anger and then something else.

 And what was up with that caption? Some like it hot? A picture of fire-eating Natsu rolled by his head, causing one eye to twitch. Juvia liked it cold because she loved a certain ice-mage, right?

 “Are you gonna buy this issue, young man?”

 Blood rushed to Gray’s head. Why would he buy a magazine when he had the real thing back at the guild? But Gray composed himself and played it cool.

 “No, thanks.” He returned the magazine on the stack and rejoined his group.

 “What kind of magazine objectifies women like that?” complained Gray.

 Which earned a raise of a brow from ‘some-like-it-hot’ Natsu.

 “You didn’t say that with Mira-chan’s cover last week.” reminded Natsu.

 Gray froze at the sudden guilt that hit him. He had no qualms staring at Mirajane in a green bathing suit enjoying the beach. So, why was he acting like he was on a higher moral ground? Gray had to think of some excuse and quick before Natsu called him out of his bullshit.

 “T-that’s d-different!”

 “Huh?” Natsu walked past him, oblivious of the fact that his question turned the ice-mage make tomato red. “But I don’t see any difference.” Said Natsu, which he meant finding no difference in Mira and Juvia’s pose in their respective magazine covers.

 Lucy the Celestial mage, feeling a little playful, chimed in. “Why are they different, Gray?” She didn’t stay behind to know.

 “I-i-it’s just different, alright!”

 Lucy shook her head. “How many years now and he is still denying it. Poor Juvia.” said Lucy to herself, chuckling.

 When his team was in a good distance, Gray ran back to the newsstand. He collected all the jewels he received from the job and handed them all to the old woman owner. Then, he grabbed all the copies of Sorcerer Weekly and left the owner dumbfounded.

 Gray walked around Magnolia hogging all copies of Juvia’s Sorcerer Weekly issue: some peeking out of his cross-body bag, while the rest he carried. He smiled at himself, proud of coming up with the best idea – by buying all the copies of Sorcerer Weekly, no one would see her Juvia in such daring pose. Gray felt triumphant.

 Until he passed by another newsstand which actually hanged a number of magazines for display. Gray checked inside his pocket and came up empty.

 Now what should he do?

 …

 Gray dropped on his bed like a hot potato, sprawled over the mattress like a spread eagle. Damn, he was exhausted. He was tired running around Magnolia all afternoon to do random jobs and earn jewels to buy all of Sorcerer Weekly’s Juvia Lockser issue. Now he had a hundred of those issue stacked beside his bed.

 He failed to realize that Sorcerer Weekly wasn’t sold in Magnolia alone. (But we will give it to Gray for trying.)

 He raised the well-wrapped gift he found earlier at his coffee table and inspected it. The ribbon was blue and neatly placed in the middle. He recognized the craftsmanship to be Juvia’s. She was good in that kind of stuff -making pretty things. Gray, on the other hand, could not make anything that can pass as pretty even if his life depended on it. Except when using his ice-make, that’s his wheelhouse.

 Gray ripped the white wrapper to see what was inside.

 Only to find the 101th Sorcerer Weekly issue he was about to add to his collection. But this one had a sticky note on it.

 ‘IS GRAY-SAMA PROUD OF JUVIA?’

 “Baka.” The cute handwriting pulled the corners of Gray’s mouth into soft smile. She even put a cute little heart at the end. “Of course, I’m always proud of you.” said Gray, talking to the seductively shushing Juvia on the cover. “But I’m not too happy about this position…”

 Gray’s thick brows furrowed. The more he stared at the cover the more he regretted it. He was feeling a nosebleed coming so he better just flip the page and find where the actual interview was printed. He needed to see words instead of the picture of Juvia’s leg parted... he needed to stop. But he was in his room, alone. So, it wouldn’t be so wrong if he just took a peek… no. But now one’s gonna see him if he… no. It wouldn’t be right. Still, he was a young, hot-blooded man and it’s the healthy thing to do – no, no, no!

 He flipped the pages frantically, trying to fight the temptation to linger on that cover, and stopped only when a page piqued his interest. It was a half-page photo of Juvia. His eyes softened, lingering on Juvia’s photo. He knew Juvia wasn’t a vain woman. She hated getting her photo taken or talking about herself. So it surprised him that in this particularly issue, Juvia indulged the readers.

 Juvia’s photo came out well – perfect even – but it was nothing compared to the real thing. It would do, for now. Looking at the colored portrait, Gray allowed himself to admit that he missed Juvia. That woman got under his skin and now she became a permanent fixture in Gray’s life, even to the point that sometimes he’d feel a sudden sense of emptiness when he was away from her for too long.

 Gray’s dark longing eyes were not the only ones that traced Juvia’s features. His finger followed his gaze: from the crinkle of her blue eyes, pink-powdered cheeks down to her disarming smile.

 Nothing was more alluring than a woman’s beautiful smile.

 Gray heard that somewhere and he couldn’t agree more. Of all of Juvia’s sexy features: her breasts, her waist, her legs, the sexiest curve on Juvia’s body was her smile.

 Gray never told a soul about it but that smile, that curve of her lips that was full of love when she talked about him, when she said his name, that smile that made his stomach flutter. It was the last thing he thought about at night and the first thing he saw in his mind in the morning.

 Gray turned to the next page and read the words written on it. Just as he expected, instead of sharing about herself, Juvia talked about Gray the whole time. He let out a sigh of satisfaction. He cushioned one arm behind his head while the other held the magazine as he read, all smiles and all satisfied.

 He didn’t have to worry anymore. Those lowly bastards may see Juvia in that provocative position but the world would know, when they read the actual article, that Juvia Lockser belonged to him – Gray Fullbuster. She was his.

 They could look but only Gray was allowed to touch.

 “That’s my Juvia.” He smiled to himself; that full grin grew wider and wider as he read all the nice things Juvia could say about him.

...

Writer’s Corner: So what’s up? We are on Day 2 of Gruvia Week. FT World isn’t really my element but I hope you guys enjoy this little drabble I made for GW.

Also, you guys know which cover I was referring to, right? I’m sure Gray appreciated that and did not appreciate everyone looking at that. lol.

See you next entry: Day 3! #GruviaForever

[buzzdixonwriter]

Another Pointless Top Ten List (But You’ll Keep Reading, Anyway)

My brother Rikk recently mailed me another top ten list of his, in this instance being his top ten favorite TV comedy shows (which he defines as 30 minutes or less, no movies).

The Three Stooges

M*A*S*H

The Andry Griffith Show 

The Beverly Hillbillies

Hogan’s Heroes

I Love Lucy 

The Honeymooners 

All In The Family

Get Smart 

Gilligan’s Island

His honorable mentions include F Troop, The Patty Duke Show, My Three Sons, Gomer Pyle USMC, Batman, Petticoat Junction, Mr. Ed. Bewitched, and I Dream Of Jeanie.

Again, one of those personal favorite lists that you really can’t argue with because it reflects personal tastes and / or fond nostalgia (though I am calling shenanigans on The Three Stooges; they were theatrical shorts shown in movie theaters, not a TV show, and besides, Laurel & Hardy are soooooo much better…).

But of course we’re going to play the game, so I’ll respond, first throwing in a caveat:  No skit comedy shows such as Monty Python’s Flying Circus, The Marty Feldman Show, Benny Hill, Second City TV, The Kids In The Hall, or Love, American Style.

I’m also omitting programs like The Gong Show and Jackass because while hilarious and under 30 minutes, they weren’t scripted or story driven.

So here’s my list:

The Dick Van Dyke Show -- the sitcom art form at peak perfection.  Carl Reiner’s insight into what writing for a mercurial TV star is like (in his case, Sid Caesar on Your Show Of Shows, for Van Dyke’s Rob Petrie it was Carl Reiner as Alan Brady).  If you’ve never seen the show, start off with their two best episodes, “Coast To Coast Big Mouth” and “October Eve” (though they’re all good).  “October Eve” is the one where Sally (Rose Marie) finds a nude painting of Laura (Mary Tyler Moore playing Dick Van Dyke’s wife) in an art gallery.  SALLY:  “There’s a painting here you should know about.”  LAURA: “If it’s what I think it is, I can explain.”  SALLY:  “If you need to explain, it’s what you think it is.”

The Mary Tyler Moore Show – this is the first American novel for television.  It’s a novel of character, not plot, and it traces the growth of Mary Richards, a 30 year old woman-child who realizes she needs to grow up, as she blossoms into a mature, self-reliant adult.  You can select two episodes at random and by comparing her character growth determine not only which season they were filmed but when in that season.

I Love Lucy -- eking out a bronze medal for its longevity and pioneering of the art form.  The first sitcom shot on film, it led the way in the rerun market.  Not just a historical icon but consistently funny.

WKRP In Cincinnati -- as crazy as a sitcom could get and still be within the realm of plausibility.  Never loved by its network, they bounced it around for four seasons until it faded away (it made a syndicated comeback a decade later, of which we shall not speak).  Great supporting staff, dynamite writing.  While they never steered away from serious subject matters (such as an actual rock concert tragedy in Cincinnati where several fans were crushed when rushing the stage), they will be forever and justly remembered for the beloved “Turkey Drop” episode.

Fawlty Towers – only two seasons and a mere 12 episodes and yet more comedic bang for the buck than anything else on this list.  John Cleese as a frustrated, short-tempered, conniving hotelier practically writes itself.  SYBIL FAWLTY:  “You know what I’ll do if I find you’ve been gambling again, don’t you, Basil?”  BASIL:  “You’ll have to sew them back on first, m’dear.”

That Girl -- looking back it can sometimes be hard to judge just how groundbreaking certain shows were.  Marlo Thomas as a struggling young actress finding romance and success in Manhattan seems positively wholesome today, but in the mid-1960s it was considered quite daring and progressive.  The Mary Tyler Moore Show took their opening credits inspiration from Marlo Thomas’ character exploring Manhattan in the opening credits of That Girl.

He & She -- a one season wonder from 1967.  Another daring and progressive show for its era.  Richard Benjamin and Paula Prentiss played a young married couple, he being a cartoonist who drew a superhero strip (the actor playing the superhero on TV in the series was Jack Cassidy at his manic best).  Another show with a dynamite supporting cast…and just too hip for the room at the time (honorable mention to Love On A Rooftop, a similar show from the previous season that also proved too advanced for audiences at that time).  

Green Acres -- started out silly but quickly took a turn into the surreal, breaking the fourth wall, commenting on the opening credits as they ran by, all sorts of oddball stuff.  Dismissed as a hayseed comedy, the truth is the supporting cast possessed dynamite comedic chops and their sense of timing is a joy to behold.  Forms a loose trilogy with The Beverly Hillbillies and Petticoat Junction since all three referenced the same small towns of Hooterville and Pixley  as well as occasional crossovers (honorable mention to the first season of Petticoat Junction which is as pure an example of Americana as one could hope to find and could easily be distilled into a feature film remake).

The Young Ones -- another two season / twelve episode wonder from the UK.  Four stereotypical English college students go through increasing levels of insanity as the series progressed.  Unlike most shows of the era where there was no continuity episode to episode, damage done in an early episode would still be seen for the rest of the series.  (They also would simply end a show when they ran out of time, not resolving that episode’s plot.)  Their random / non sequitur style proved a tremendous influence on shows like Family Guy.

Fernwood 2 Nite / America 2-Nite -- a spin off from the faux soap opera Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, this presented itself as a cable access variety show for Mary Hartman’s hometown of Fernwood.  With Martin Mull as the obnoxious host, Fred Willard as his incurably dense second banana, and TV theme song composer Frank De Vol as the band leader.  Because it’s so rooted in 1970s pop culture it doesn’t age as well as some other shows on the list, but many of the gags still land solidly today.  For the second season the show-within-a-show went nationwide and became America 2-Nite. Very funny, very well written, and all the more remarkable because these guys were doing five episodes a week!

Okay, so what can this list tell us?

Buzz is old.  Like really, really, really old.

Buzz stopped watching sitcoms in the mid-1980s.

There’s a reason for that.  By that time I was writing for TV and trying to get my own work done.  I didn’t have time to sit and watch TV on a regular basis (still don’t), and too often I could see the gears turning and guess where the episode was heading by the end of the first scene (still do).

I’ve veered away from “must watch” TV, especially shows that require the audience to keep track of what’s gone on before.

Tell me I have to see the first six seasons of a show to appreciate what happens in the seventh and you’ve just lost me as a potential viewer.  I’m strictly a one & done kinda guy now (though I will binge watch if a mini-series has a manageable number of episodes, say six).

My list represents a time capsule for what caught my interest and attention during a very formative period of my life, i.e., from the early 1960s as I became more and more aware that writing was where my future lay, to the mid-1980s when I hit a good peak stretch.

I don’t doubt there are great and wonderful hilarious comedies out there that I haven’t seen, I’m just listing what I have seen that did make an impression on me.

Your mileage may vary.*

    © Buzz Dixon

  *  It should vary!  Be your own person!

[furidojasutin]

Title: Buddy talk

Pairing: Grayke (Gray x Loke)

Universe: Modern AU

Rating: K+

a/n: This is my entry for the Fairy Tail Reverse Big Bang hosted by @ftguildevents​ ! I was super happy to get to work with the beautiful @rougearts who also made me see the appeal in this ship, actually! You can find her art piece over here --> https://rougearts.tumblr.com/post/628531912470937601/i-am-not-against-shoving-you-off-this-bed-loke  . Make sure to give her work lots of love and follow her on all her blogs, too!! Her writing is amazing and so is her art. 💓 This event was such an amazing idea tbh, so thanks to everyone who helped hosting it and everyone who participated <3

“Ta-da!”

“Wow.” Even if Gray ignored Loke's smugly shimmering eyes, there was a lot to take in. The modern dining table was completely laid. Despite the comparably small surface of the table, there was plenty of different stuff to eat and he'd also spotted the various kinds of bottles near the kitchen counter. The kitchen counter itself? It wasn't as much of a mess as Gray had assumed it would be. After all this time of being friends with Loke, he was still unable to tell if that ginger was more of a clean person or a messy person. Perhaps it depended on the exact situation, really.

“Wow? That's your only reaction? I put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this.”

“Sounds kinda gross, if you ask me,” Gray deadpanned but couldn't help but smile a little when he saw his friend's play-acted offended face.

“Well,” Loke countered, “I've always known that you never had keen eye for things that deserve true appreciation, so I can only feel bad for you I guess.” With a slightly dramatic gesture he left Gray's side to fetch them both a glass from the cupboard.

“Sure, whatever you say, man.” He watched Loke with a shrug, the tiniest curve still not disappeared on his face. Of course he appreciated the effort, he really did. Perhaps he wasn't the best at showing his gratitude most of the time, so he was glad that Loke understood him without him having to say much.

His gaze swerved over the full display of food bowls and the... Wait.

“You prepared all of this yourself?”

Loke froze in his movement for a second and Gray almost missed the hesitation. Almost. When his friend turned around with a glass in each of his hands, he shot a lopsided grin towards Gray. “Weeeell..... Not all of it.”

Gray knew exactly where this was going. “What did you prepare yourself?”

With a roll of his shoulders Loke smoothly turned his back on him to pour them both a glass of wine. “This and that... I toasted the bread and cooked the eggs and-”

“You ordered the rest of the meal.”

“Got me there.”

Even so, starting off the evening with a meal and wine was a very good idea. It was pretty decent wine, too. Before Gray knew it he had already emptied two glasses. They hadn't planned on getting drunk but then again, they hadn't planned out anything really so this night could go anywhere.

Or, almost anywhere.

After they cleaned up they decided to move over to Loke's couch and watch some shitty night tv channel. This channel seriously never disappointed them – there was always something dumb to comment on and make fun about and Gray caught himself laughing at more of Loke's stupid jokes than he wanted to admit. It had always been this way.

The night progressed very fast and it was an absolutely good time. Everything was so easy when he was around Loke. Silly and chill. Gray felt relaxed.

And perhaps it was the bottle of wine that they had killed together (though Gray felt a very tiny buzz at most), but there was something so warm and good about Loke and him just chilling on his bed together and talking about random stuff before sleep would get to them. There was nothing weird about them sharing this bed, nothing weird about two half-naked guys right next to each other and sharing their thoughts.

Until Loke thought that it was a good idea to bring that topic into focus.

“Why again are we talking about this?” Gray averted his eyes and stared at the ceiling instead. He made an effort to sound annoyed but something told him that it wouldn't be so easy to distract Loke from his intention. Ugh... He really didn't like talking about this kinda stuff. And perhaps one of the reasons for this circumstance was right beside him...

“Because you're one of my best friends. And because I'm very curious.” Loke rolled onto his side. “I know all about Cana's love life and-”

“It's not like she has ever tried to make a secret out of it. She's a very blunt person. She loves telling us juicy new information involving her newest crush and so on,” Gray tried to counter.

Without much success.

“I want to know more about your love life, though. We've been buddies for so long and I know that you're not much of a talker, but c'mon. There's got to be somebody, right?”

Something about Loke's tone of voice had changed, but he wasn't able to pinpoint what exactly it was. Maybe there was a tad bit less amusement in it, or perhaps he just sounded more serious.

Gray frowned. He still didn't really feel like talking about this. Yea, he'd much rather change the subject. Besides, there wasn't much to tell anyway...

“Okay.” Loke tried again after a moment of silence. Did he realize that he wasn't gonna say much, even if he begged him to? “If you don't want to tell me any stories yourself, how about I ask what I'm curious about and you answer?” A short pause. “Or not-,” Loke added quickly. “If you don't want to.”

So he still wanted to hold onto this topic. And Gray really wondered why. Perhaps it was the wine that they both had consumed and the fact that they were chilling on Loke's bed, comfortable with blanket and pillows and a crappy reality tv series playing in the background still.

With a sigh, Gray decided that he would agree. For as long as he could bear it. “Alright, fine.”

How could he mentally prepare himself for the questions that might come for him? He probably couldn't.

“Okaaay...,” Loke shifted to lie on his back as well and focused on the ceiling, just like Gray. “I know that your relationship with Juvia didn't work out. But I never actually asked if it was you breaking up with her or the other way round. So what was up with that? She's a sweet woman.”

Gray frowned at that. He should have expected Juvia to be the first person to be brought up but he still felt unprepared. On the other hand, it wasn't too hard talking about her, because... “We kinda both did it? It was weird. I think we both just got carried away and didn't realize from the start that we had different feelings for each other that weren't romantic love, you know? We care for each other a lot, just not... in that kinda way. And we're fine with that.” He couldn't believe that the words were just spouting from his mouth like that and that, actually, it wasn't too difficult to talk about it either.

For so long he had always just lived with the perception that he had to hide away his true feelings from anybody. As time went by and he made his true friends, he learned to let go of this perception step by step, but romantic love was a topic that he had barely ever approached up until now. At least when he himself was involved.

“Huh, alright. Totally get that. I mean, you guys are still good friends, right? I haven't seen her in a while.”

“Yea. She's got a new job and it's pretty busy. Didn't Cana meet her last week?” Gray mused loudly.

“No idea,” Loke shrugged before a small grin appeared on his face. “Talking about Cana... Did you ever have the hots for her?”

Now, that was a question Gray had to grimace it. It wasn't because Cana wasn't an amazing woman or didn't look great, but... Their relationship had really turned out to be one between a brother and a sister. They had fun together, she was game for anything and sometimes they annoyed each other just to hang out again not long after.

Of course he knew why Loke was asking. All three of them were pretty close after all. Loke had even been Cana's boyfriend for a short while before they cut it off again, all without any hard feelings. Gray had always admired this casualty a bit.

And Cana and himself? She had been his first kiss... Ah, yea.

“No, not really, I guess...,” he ended up muttering and scratched his nose in a sense of awkwardness. “She's really been more like a sister all this time and I don't think that's gonna change.”

“And that kiss?”

Yea, yea, yea... “That was... just curiosity. We were kids, kids are curious.” Gray still couldn't say it without feeling even more awkward.

Luckily, Loke seemed content enough with this answer and when Gray dared to turn his head so he could catch a glimpse of Loke's face, he spotted the small smile. Was it amusement? Was it happiness? He was unable to figure it out. Maybe it wasn't important.

“Fact is, she's amazing. And we'd definitely miss her in our squad, right?”

Now that was something Gray could agree with without hesitating a single second. “For sure.”

“Okay, so what about Natsu?”

Loke was facing him again now and he actually had to laugh out loud at the face Gray pulled once the question had slipped past his lips. The sound of it made Gray's heart jump but the absurdity of the suggestion was in the forefront of his mind. Natsu? Never in a million years! “Do you still need an answer?” He asked, mumbling and still with a grimace. “Besides, he's with Lucy. Lucy can deal with his hot-tempered ass. Sometimes I feel really sorry for her.”

His best friend had a hard time suppressing his chuckles. “I mean, you two act like an old married couple sometimes. It would be cute as well – if it wasn't for you wanting to bash each other's head in on a regular basis.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Oh, kinky Fullbuster is here.”

“Shut up!”

It was over, Loke was laughing and rolled around on the bed until he almost pushed Gray off the edge. He could be worked up about Loke asking if he had a thing for Natsu, or he could let himself get infected by his friend's laughter, ignoring the soft warmth in his cheeks. He didn't hate Natsu and Natsu didn't hate him. Honestly, they'd probably help each other out of the biggest problems and be there for each other but the bond they had was still more like a... love-hate thing? It was hard to imagine a life without Natsu in it but sometimes he just wanted to throw him into the nearest trash can.

Oh well... The second option won out anyway. At this point it was impossible not to give a laughter of his own and with a quiet, playful curse on his lips he pushed Loke away again so he wouldn't end up falling off the bed after all.

“Calm down man, it wasn't that funny,” he argued and huffed, a not so secret smile on his face, though.

It took another moment for Loke to calm down but eventually he just wiped a single tear off his face and then he was ready to proceed.

Gray had hoped that he was done.

“Okay, okay, okay...” The ginger placed a finger on his lips, looking as though he was thinking hard. Gray didn't trust any of it. How was he still not done? “What about Erza?”

“She's just a good friend.” Although, and that was something he had never told anybody really, he's had a small crush on her years ago. Years ago, really.

“Fine. She's a very impressive woman, though, damn. If she wasn't part of our friendship group I'd be so intimidated.”

“Yea.”

Gray knew that they still were pretty intimidated by her sometimes, though. They just didn't like to admit it.

“Mirajane?”

“Dude, she's a lesbian.”

“The women of this world are very lucky.” Loke sighed and placed the hands behind his head, looking at the ceiling again. “Levy? No wait, she's taken, too. No surprise, she's cute and smart.”

“So don't ask me about Gajeel.” He was almost getting used to these casual suggestions now.

“Right, right. Freed?”

“He's engaged with Laxus, remember?”

“Sure, sure. Two more attractive dudes off the market.” Loke waved him off, but the grin had returned. “Maybe I'm just trying to be nosy and find out what kinda guys you like... And girls. But I'm more curious about the guys.”

And Gray hated how fast this false feeling of casualty disappeared again. It flew right out of the window. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his friend grinning at him and he couldn't handle it right now. He just hoped that his reaction wasn't too obvious and that the warmth tingling in his body was to blame on the remains of the wine (even though they really hadn't drunken much). Harrumphing quietly, he decided to fake-stretch himself and then roll onto his side. “I don't have a type. Are you done, then? I'm kinda tired, seriously.”

Gray wanted to hit himself because of this obvious sounding lie. How more obvious could he be?! Still, the tiny, naive spark of hope that Loke would buy it and just leave it be was there and he felt tense when he awaited his friend's response. It was really late, so that was no lie at least. Late, early? It was starting to get light again outside anyway.

Wow, had they really been talking for so long?! The tv was still on, too, but he hadn't been paying attention to it anymore at all.

“No type?”

He felt Loke shifting and so he decided to fake a yawn. “No, I don't think I have one.”

“Huh, okay, I get it.” Loke was looking over Gray's shoulder, he could see it out of the corner of his eyes. Intently he averted his eyes and just stared at Loke's wardrobe, still lying on his side. For a second he thought that Loke was done, but then- “Except that I don't get it. I mean, you only have to take a look at this charming face of mine and you'll be sold.”

More heat seeped into Gray's cheeks immediately and he really, really wanted to blame it on the alcohol again. Was Loke trying to flirt? Was he just being Loke? He could never be too sure about it... There was no way that Loke was seriously having any interest in him like... that, right? Fuck.

He knew that he shouldn't turn his head and look, because that was exactly what his friend wanted him to do. He knew he would be doomed and his heart would make that kind of jump again and make him feel stupid, but...

Turning, with Loke half-hovering above him, he looked straight at him and Loke immediately intensified his stupidly charming grin.

“See? Hooked yet? Nobody can resist this beautiful face.”

There was so much Gray wanted to do, but would never dare to. There were so many thoughts in his head that he wasn't anywhere near ready to voice yet. Loke's illegally suave grin, the colored light of the sunrise beginning to stream through the window, their closeness, the flirty atmosphere...

But it was just them being bros. It had always been this way.

Or had it not?

When had his stupid heart begun to make such a ruckus about Loke? And was there the smallest chance of Loke feeling the same?

Fuck. He hated the conflict this man threw him into and yet, at the same time, he wouldn't want to miss these evenings. Not a single one of them.

And before he even took note of it, he was having a lopsided grin of his own, with the most stupid little hope somewhere in his heart. “Pfft, sure. Try again, man.”

“Oh you know I'm an enthusiastic pursuer of my goals,” Loke countered and adjusted his non-existent tie in a silly way.

“I don't mind', Gray thought to himself and when catching this thought of his he just waved his friend off again and huffed before turning his back on the ginger. With a smile sneaking its way onto his face, he muttered.

“Night, you idiot.”

“Hey, I wasn't done yet,” came the silly complaint from behind him and before Gray knew it, Loke had flopped on top of him. How could he have been so naive to think that a simple 'good night' would shut his friend up? It wasn't like he had a huge issue with Loke flopping onto him, but part of him had and... it wasn't exactly helping his case and all the thoughts he's had around it.

“You can't just turn your back on me like that. What point are you trying to prove? I'm irresistable. And if you're really going to try and escape this simple reality, you've got to try harder than that! Worshiping the beauty that is me is inevitable, Gray.”

Gray knew all too well that Loke could just go on like this forever. At least it hadn't reached the point of him becoming ridiculously poetic about himself yet, although the thought made him want to shake his head and roll his eyes in fondness. Still, he really wanted to sleep. Or perhaps calm down and shut off his brain for now.

So he just tried to shrug Loke off with a huff and grumbled. “I swear, I'll throw you off this bed if I have to.”

“You would yeet me off my own bed?!” A surprise gasp.

“Yea. Yea, I would.”

It was definitely worth it because he finally seemed to get through to his friend and, perhaps more importantly, he got more of Loke's warm laughter before he felt how said man retreated and made himself comfortable without sprawling across him.

“Fine, fine. I don't wanna get yeeted anywhere today, so sleep well, have sweet dreams and all that.”

The chuckle in Loke's voice faded away with his words and then it was quiet.

In this silence and while closing his eyes, Gray decided that Loke's laughter and the sound of his voice definitely weren't the worst things to hear last before falling asleep and that the knowledge of him beside him and the warmth radiating from his body were a kind of comfort that he would like to get used to, like to have and to keep.