#manage that. And I’m not optimistic that i even can but I have to hope otherwise I’m gonna end up miserable

[exopelagic]

this election feels so hollow even though it’s likely ostensibly gonna be a good outcome. labour really just sucks fucking ass rn huh

[yaminerua]

it’s so frustrating dealing with something that takes time to try to tame cos it’s like oh put this stuff on your face and take these meds and see if there’s any improvement 3 months from now and in the meantime I’m just filled with this dread that it’s not going to work bc I can’t see signs of improvement yet even though I know it’s early days and I’m not likely to see improvement until a few weeks in at least

[loveinhawkins]

Steve’s bat bites start to bleed again during the drive out of The War Zone.

It’s a slow realisation, a creeping dampness on his skin.

He stays as still as he can, keeps his movements small and contained when turning the steering wheel; he thinks he mostly gets away with it, manages to park the RV and pitch his voice on just the right side of normal as he tells the kids to scram.

Awareness of his surroundings grows a little fuzzy around the edges, but he senses enough to know that he’s alone—the silence feels heavy, makes his ears ring.

He lifts himself up out of his seat, one hand clinging onto the headrest for balance. The ringing gets sharper, more high-pitched; he shakes his head to try and clear it.

One step forward, then another, and another.

There’s a slight rocking motion under his feet. It feels a little like he’s in a boat that’s docked, constant movement even in the gentlest of waters.

His palms brush against the bathroom door.

“Okay,” Steve whispers to himself.

He hangs onto the sink to keep himself upright—feels the room sway, as if the waters underneath have suddenly become stormy.

With one hand, he finds the knot in the bandage.

“Okay, okay…”

Pulls.

Steve doesn’t think he blacks out, not quite, but there’s a shift, a dizzying tilt… and then, somehow, he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat.

And…

The bat bites must cause hallucinations or something.

Otherwise, Steve cannot explain why Eddie—who notoriously threw up and passed out during a dissection in Biology—is currently pressing a clean bandage against his stomach, staring down at the blood like he can’t look away.

“You’re good, you’re good,” Eddie’s saying.

He’s clearly trying to sound calm, but it’s just coming out strained, like what he really means is this is all a fucking nightmare actually, but we’ve gotta find something to be optimistic about.

“Think it just needs some more pressure,” he goes on. “Yeah, there, see? It’s stopping. Oh, thank God.”

Steve feels more gauze getting wrapped around his middle—if he wasn’t injured, it’d almost be a nice sensation, Eddie’s touch somehow the perfect mix of both firm and gentle.

As he works, Eddie hums nervously.

“Talk to me Harrington,” he says in a shaky sing-song. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging, man, gimme some awkward small talk. Got any hopes? Dreams? Anything I should know?

Oh, so many things, Steve thinks, still light-headed.

But then he really does mull that over: his mind goes to The Upside Down, to belatedly telling Eddie about the hive mind, and oh shit.

“Hey, weird question,” Steve says, “but I’ve not been, like, asking you to make it cold in here or, um, anything like that?”

Eddie blinks. “Uh. No?”

“Okay.” Before he lets the relief of hearing Eddie’s answer sink in, Steve adds, “If I ever do, you need to lock me in here and get out. Tell Nancy.”

Eddie’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “Sure. Cool. Cool! Uh, for any particular reason or—?”

“Just in case—like, I don’t feel any different, but—one time, Will Byers, when he was in The Upside Down it, like, infected him? Like a virus. Except more… possession. And they had to kinda… burn it outta him.”

“Ha,” Eddie says. A beat. “Oh fuck, you’re serious.”

“I really don’t have the energy to be messing with you, dude.”

“Sorry. Sometimes you all just say things, y’know? And if I don’t get it, I’m like, well, they’ve been living through this for a while, maybe they’ve got a code going on.”

“I mean,” Steve says, “we kinda do.”

Eddie shakes his head. “So when Buckley said she dealt with a human-flesh-based monster, and the one before that was smoke-related, that wasn’t just, like, a really fucked up metaphor?” Eddie’s eyes are wide, pleading. “Please say it was a metaphor.”

“Sorry,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie sighs through a lacklustre chuckle. “You’re fine, Steve. As for, uh, being possessed, I don’t think so. You’re no weirder than usual, but—”

“Wow, thanks. Means such a lot coming from you.”

“—you were a bit, like, out of it for a few seconds, but it just looked like you were gonna faint on me. Um. How’re you feeling now?”

“Good,” Steve says. When Eddie raises an eyebrow, he tacks on, “As good as I can be, I guess. Still.” He groans slightly as he stands, goes back over to the sink. “Better check.”

“Check? What?”

Steve runs the water as hot as it will possibly go, until the steam is evident. He sticks his hand right into the stream, hears Eddie hiss as the water scalds his skin.

“Okay, yup. Not possessed.”

“Fucking fantastic. Now I want it cold,” Eddie says.

He takes control of the faucet, nods for Steve to put his hand under the now cold water.

After a minute or two, Eddie sighs and collapses onto the toilet seat himself.

There’s a squeak as Steve turns the faucet off—his skin’s probably not had the good of the cold water for nearly long enough, but it’ll do.

Eddie’s tipped his head back so he’s facing the ceiling, eyes closed. Steve watches him with sympathy; he really must hate blood.

“Eddie. You can go.”

“Mm, nope,” Eddie says without opening his eyes. “I’m fine right here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Steve turns back to the sink, frowns at the tiny mirror above it; there’s black spots on the glass, but he can make out enough. Christ, the bags under his eyes are horrific.

“Relax, Casanova,” Eddie says, almost as if he’s heard Steve’s thoughts. “You look good.”

“Uh-huh. Think your brain’s fried from being on the run.”

Steve leans against the sink with one hip, finds Eddie looking at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, probably. Or maybe being on the run just suits you.” Eddie’s eyes flicker down. His smile falters. “You know, in an ideal world,” he says conversationally, “you’d be in a hospital getting stitches.”

Steve scoffs. “In an ideal world, I’d be in bed sleeping.”

“Amen to that,” Eddie says lightly. But he still looks sombre. “Seriously, though. If it gets… you know. I’d drive you.”

“To the hospital? What are you gonna do, Eddie, wander up to the front desk? Sounds like a real interesting way to get arrested.”

But Eddie doesn’t leap at the chance to make a joke.

“Steve,” he says softly. “I mean it. I wouldn’t care.”

“That would sorta ruin the whole priority of hiding you.”

“That’s—” Eddie huffs. “That’s not the priority.”

“Huh, that’s funny, cause it is in my book.” Steve nods at the door, to his whole world just outside. “One of many.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “And your name better be right at the top, Harrington.”

Steve hums.

“In bold. Underlined.”

“Whatever you say.”

Eddie groans quietly, runs a hand down his face. “You worry me, man.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“I know. Just…” Eddie hesitates. “Don’t go off alone. You know?”

Steve thinks it over. He steps forward and offers Eddie his hand.

Eddie takes it.

When Steve pulls him up, he stumbles a little, as if he feels like he’s on a boat, too.

“Oops, sorry.” He grabs onto Steve’s forearm for balance. “Think this should be the other way round, man.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

Steve leads the way out of the bathroom—doesn’t mention the fact that, really, they’re both holding each other up.

There’s a bottle of water left in the back. Steve twists the cap off. Drinks.

“You too,” he tells Eddie.

“Huh?”

Steve considers him—thinks of the little flare of panic he felt when watching Eddie walk through the woods, tiptoeing around vines. How he had a sudden instinct to catch up to him, to make sure he wasn’t alone.

“I’m making a deal,” Steve says. “I won’t go off alone if you don’t.”

He lifts the bottle up as if making a toast—drinks again then passes it over to Eddie.

For the slightest of moments, their fingers brush; Eddie’s rings skim over Steve’s knuckles.

“So what’s this?” Eddie asks. “Legally binding magical water?”

Steve shrugs. “Cool metaphor,” he replies.

You say you just turn heel and run, Eddie. But sometimes I think if there was a fire, you’d run towards the flames if it meant no-one else got hurt.

Eddie smiles. Tilts the bottle towards Steve.

“Guess it’s a promise, then,” he says.

He drinks.

Steve prays that it holds.

[lackadaisycats]

Why does Fablepaint draw such mean spirited art of Rocky. Is it a personal sense of humor kind of thing? Or does disturbingly mean spirited art the only way for FablePaint to draw this character. Is it possible for some more lighthearted and optimistic stories regarding Rocky to show up anytime soon? I’m not saying this to try to be offensive or aggressive, I just think the world’s depressing enough, why make the fictional world sad as well. I do love the comic, I just wish it was happier.

I don't think Fable's art of Rocky is especially mean-spirited. At least no more so than mine has been. Rocky has always been a character with a knack for getting himself into trouble. I do know that Fable likes Rocky and finds various aspects of Rocky's personality and circumstances pretty relatable. I think a lot of what you're seeing actually comes from a place of affection, and maybe even a little bit of vicarious self-deprecation. I will tell you from my own experiences, this is very common among creators (myself included). A character may not be an intended self-insert of any sort, but you inevitably still end up with bits and pieces of yourself reflected therein. And in many ways, you're also inevitably sorting out some turmoil close to your own heart through the character and the story they inhabit.

-----------------

About the broader topic of sad things in fiction... Yeah, the world is harsh, cruel, and unfair even at the best of times, but I don't think art that fully disregards this does much service to anyone. The most fluffy, pastel-colored, marshmallow-mild media will still tend to present us with some conflict, because that's how a story manages to resonate. It's hard to convey something meaningful about human resilience, or abiding love, enduring friendship, confronting inner demons, triumph over injustice, or about the absurdity of living without acknowledging the darkness. Even if you're just writing something to make light of the implacable dark, it must be there for you to laugh at.

I think it's fine to use fiction as a temporary retreat from your own real life concerns. And I think it's fine to have comfort characters who you turn to when you need some uplifting. There are a lot of really sweet and lovely fan-works featuring Rocky out there that are much gentler with him than Fable or I will be. You can stick with those! That's okay! But canonically, he's part of a story about a tumultuous time in history, and a tumultuous time in his own troubled life. He's a flawed character surrounded by other flawed characters. He's willfully taken on the role of a violent criminal, in fact. And though I don't think the story of Lackadaisy is without happy, silly, lighthearted aspects, it's not only that. I can't change that without undoing everything I've been working toward. I hope that's understandable.

[inkspiredwriting]

The Perfect Birthday

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: This little one shot is for @craftyangelpainter. I hope you had a great birthday, and I hope this puts a little smile on your face

Warnings: none

It was a warm afternoon at Five and Y/n’s house, the living room festooned with balloons and streamers. Y/n’s birthday cake stood proudly on the table, a beautiful creation with intricate frosting, baked by Y/n herself because, as usual, she didn't want to burden anyone. Five had worked tirelessly to pull this day together, ensuring everything was perfect for his wife. But as the hours ticked by, the cracks in the celebration started to show.

The whole family had gathered at Five’s insistence, which had been no small feat. As much as they had been through together, getting all the Hargreeves siblings in the same room often felt like trying to contain a tornado in a jar. But for Y/n, Five was determined to make it happen. She deserved it.

Lila and Diego arrived with their three kids in tow, looking tired but managing some smiles for Y/n. However, it wasn’t long before Lila started mentioning their need to head home early. “We’ll have to leave soon,” she said, half-heartedly stirring her drink. “The kids have school tomorrow, and Diego and I are running on fumes.”

Five clenched his jaw. He understood, of course, but this was Y/n’s birthday—one day for his wife to feel celebrated by the people she had grown to care about.

Across the room, Klaus sat huddled on the couch, looking anxious. Without his powers, he had been jittery, afraid of everything from the weather to his own shadow. “I’ll be honest,” he said, his voice shaky as he glanced around nervously, “I’m just trying to keep my anxiety at bay. All this... mortality stuff is really getting to me.”

Ben sat at the far end of the table, scowling at nothing in particular. He poked at his food, clearly uninterested in engaging with anyone. “Can we get this over with?” he muttered. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming. I don’t like any of you.”

Allison, who had been on her phone for most of the gathering, finally piped up. “I really need to get back to Claire,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I promised her I wouldn’t be gone too long.”

Luther, ever the optimist, was the only one genuinely thrilled to be there. “Come on, guys, it’s Y/n’s birthday!” he exclaimed, trying to rally some enthusiasm. “Let’s at least try to make it a good time.”

Y/n, for her part, was putting on a brave face. She moved around the room, smiling, offering food, making sure everyone was comfortable. But Five could see the disappointment in her eyes. She had spent so much time thinking of others, doing everything she could to make his dysfunctional family feel welcome. And what did she get in return? Barely any effort.

As the evening wore on, Viktor stood up, slipping his jacket on quietly. “I need to head back to Canada,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “The bar isn’t going to run itself.”

That was the final straw for Five.

He slammed his drink down on the table, the sudden noise silencing the room. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised by the outburst. Five rarely lost his temper now, but when he did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Are you kidding me?” Five snapped, his voice sharp and filled with barely-contained fury. “You ungrateful assholes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and she instinctively reached out to touch his arm, but Five wasn’t done.

“Except Luther,” he added quickly, pointing at his taller brother, who looked caught between relief and awkwardness. “At least he’s trying. But the rest of you? Seriously? Do you even hear yourselves?”

Diego frowned, stepping forward. “What’s your problem, Five? We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Oh, you’re here, alright,” Five retorted. “Physically, maybe. But mentally? Emotionally? You couldn’t care less. Lila and Diego can’t stop talking about leaving, Allison’s glued to her phone like she has something better to do, and Klaus is too busy wallowing in his fear of death to even be present.”

“I have reasons for that!” Klaus interjected weakly, but Five ignored him.

“And Ben?” Five’s voice rose. “Ben can’t even pretend to care. He’s sitting there like we dragged him here against his will.”

Ben crossed his arms, glaring at Five. “I don’t need this,” he muttered, but even he didn’t try to walk away.

Five took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger but failing miserably. “You know who’s done everything for you? Y/n. She’s always gone out of her way to help you, to make you feel like part of this family. She’s been more of a sibling to you than most of you have been to each other. And now, on her birthday, you can’t even pretend to celebrate her?”

The room was dead silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

“She bakes for you, she listens to your problems, she does everything she can to make this dysfunctional mess of a family feel like home. And what do you give her in return? Excuses. Half-assed effort. This?” Five gestured around the room, his frustration boiling over.

Y/n looked mortified, trying to tug at Five’s sleeve, her voice a soft plea. “Five, it’s fine—"

“It’s not fine, Y/n!” Five cut her off, his voice softer but no less intense. “It’s not fine. You deserve so much better than this.”

He turned back to his siblings, his green eyes blazing. “You know what? If you can’t even give her a few hours of your time to show her how much she means, then you can leave. Go back to whatever it is you think is more important than being here for her.”

There was a long pause. Lila and Diego exchanged guilty looks, while Klaus shuffled uncomfortably. Even Ben seemed to shrink a little under Five’s fierce gaze. Allison put her phone down, looking at Y/n with something close to shame in her eyes.

“I…” Viktor began, but then he sighed, taking off his jacket. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Luther, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. “Let’s start over. We’ll stay as long as you want. It’s your day, Y/n.”

The others slowly nodded in agreement, clearly shaken by Five’s outburst. Lila gave Diego a small nudge, and he sighed, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll stay. Sorry, Y/n.”

Klaus, looking awkward but sincere, added, “I’ll, uh… try to be less scared of everything.”

Ben grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move to leave. Even Allison offered a small smile. “I’ll stay. For you, Y/n.”

Y/n, who had been standing quietly beside Five, finally spoke. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she said, looking at her husband with a mix of affection and exasperation. “But thank you.”

Five pulled her into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You deserve it. You always do.”

And for the rest of the evening, the Hargreeves siblings did their best to make up for their earlier behavior. Laughter filled the room, stories were shared, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like a real family gathering. Five kept a protective arm around Y/n, making sure she knew just how much she meant to him.

As the night wound down, Y/n looked around at the scene and smiled. “You know,” she said quietly to Five, “it wasn’t the perfect birthday… but it’s pretty close.”

Five smirked, kissing her cheek. “I told you I’d make it happen.”

And in that moment, Y/n knew just how lucky she was to have Five, even in the chaos that surrounded their lives.

[in1-nutshell]

Hey!

I don't know if you alredy watched the movie by time I send this so just in case spoiler alert.

Can I please request for Transformers One Bee where before he was sent to floor 50 he use to have a spark make/conjux (Buddy) that was miner but since is been so long Buddy worked hard and got promoted to Elite guard with the mission of finding what they did to Bee only for them to be reunited when she was given the task to protect guard Sentinel when he got capture after the attack, also I like the idea that Sentinel did it on purpose to remain Buddy of who was in power since he is that evil and suspected Buddy was about to strike.

Was thinking on going for a more angsty route... but then I saw B-127's face again and couldn't do it. B must have FLUFF!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being B-127's Conjunx and a Guard

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Romance, Cybertronian reader

TF1

B-127 didn’t have a lot of luck going on in his life.

He knew that but tried his best to think optimistically.

Sure, he has been bouncing from job position to job position, but it was thanks to all that bouncing around that he found the love of his life.

B-127 met Buddy under… less likely circumstances…

B-127 walking around looking at his new work environment. B-127: “Not too bad of a place. Maybe a bit of color and some entertainment, but other than that its—” SHRIEK! BANG! CLANK! He was now on the ground groaning in pain. B-127 looked up to see what exactly happened to him. His vision was a bit blurry when a silhouette appeared in front of him. A pretty face…

B-127: “Primus…” Buddy: “Sweet Solus Prime! I didn’t see you there! Let me help you up!” Buddy takes their servos and helps the disoriented bot up. Buddy: “I am SO Sorry! I know the mining carts go fast but I didn’t it would go that fast! And by the time I saw you the breaks were too slow, and I tried getting you attention—and now I’m rambling again…” Buddy vents before putting on a smile and offering him a handshake. Buddy: “I’m Buddy.” B-127 finds a goofy smile creeping onto his faceplate. B-127: “B-127.” Somewhere in the crowd someone calls out Buddy. Buddy: “I’ll catch up later D! Go ahead with Pax!” Buddy turns back to the yellow mech. Buddy: “Sorry about that, my neighbors wanted to show me something, but I’ll do it later.”

It didn’t take long before the two started going out as a couple after a few months into their jobs.

Things got a bit harder when B-127 was moved to another job position a bit farther from Buddy’s.

But that didn’t stop them.

 No, if anything it made Buddy more determined to spend time with him.

It would be a while of courting each other before they finally decided to perform the Conjunx Endura rites.

Sadly, shortly after that, B-127 went ‘missing’.

Buddy was demanding every supervisor they saw any information on their Conjunx.

No one said anything about his whereabouts.

A new goal was set.

Buddy was to rise above the ranks, higher than any miner could even dream of.

Climb the ranks to become one of Sentinel Prime’s Elite Guard.

It sounded insane, but if anyone knew where their Conjunx was, it would have to be Sentinel.

Buddy nearly gave up several times but the soft hums of their spark, of the bond reminded them why they were fighting for.

It took longer than they would have liked it, especially given that they had no T-cog, but they finally managed to become one of the guard.

Sentinel looking over at his newest member of the Guard. Sentinel: “So, you’re the little bot who’s been making all the commotion within my guard.” Sentinel walks around them. Buddy stiffens as he walks and as Arachnid watches silently. Buddy: “My only wish is to serve and protect you Sentinel Prime, sir.” Sentinel stops in front of them, then smiles. Sentinel: “I like you. How about you become one of my personal guard bots? You’ll be by my side almost all the time and you get a room near my quarters.” Buddy’s optics widen a bit but manages to keep their composure. Buddy: “It would be a great honor Sentinel Prime, sir.” Sentinel: “Stop calling me sir and you start your new job tomorrow?” The Prime offers them his servo to shake. Buddy smiles and shakes it. Buddy: “I’m looking forward to it.”

Buddy gained a position even better than what they had hoped for.

B-127 was going to be found even sooner!

…except it didn’t.

Sentinel was a busy bot and always wanted to drag Buddy with him everywhere.

So much so, Sentinel had gotten Buddy some wax and new Guard paintjob.

It felt… wrong.

They didn’t know how to explain it, but the paint, new blasters, and mask felt wrong.

Something was wrong.

Whenever Sentinel wasn’t dragging them around Iacon, he had them guard special levels in the Archieve’s.

Buddy thought for sure that they would find something about B-127’s location there.

Buddy looks at the data chips and slugs in their servos. Buddy: “One of them has to have it…” Suddenly a large frame turned the corner and shown a bright light in their face. Buddy: “ACK! Darkwing its me!” The guard turned off his flashlight and scoffed. Darkwing: “What are you doing here? Sentinel got tired of you?” Buddy: “I’m just doing some research Sentinel asked me to do.” Darkwing scoffed before leaving. Darkwing: “Miners…” Buddy scoffed once he was out of earshot. Buddy: “Miner guards…” Meanwhile… B-127, D-16, Orion Pax and Elita-One walking on the surface. B-127: “My Conjunx would love it up here!” D-16: “B, you don’t need to start talking about your ‘Conjunx’ again.” B-127: “Hey! They’re real!” Orion and Elita: “Sure…”

Nothing.

Buddy felt as if they were going on a wild chase all over Iacon looking for their Conjunx.

…But anything was worth it in the end, for him it was.

It would be a couple of days later that Buddy would receive a message for all guard bots to report to Sentinel.

Buddy was not expecting for cuffed mech’s to enter the room.

Many they recognized from B-127’s rants on the High Guard.

They nearly broke character when they saw a bot that looked suspiciously like B-127 and an old berthmate D-16.

They could not believe what they were hearing when Sentinel started talking about executing them all and for the trade he was doing with the Quintessons.

Buddy is gripping their staff tighter with all Sentinel was confessing. Behind their mask was a scowl and a look of betrayal. Their world came crashing down when they heard the yellow bot speak. B-127: “That is not the truth!” Sentinel got up in B-127’s face and presses his sword against his face. Sentinel: “The truth is what I say!” SHINK! Buddy pulled out their staffs point. Sentinel: “Ah, yes. Do me a favor and terminate the one with the mouth.” Buddy just walked over to the pair before ramming the blunt end into one of Sentinel’s joint, catching him over guard and pushing him back. The High Guard, D-16 and B-127 looked in shock. Buddy stands in front of B-127. Buddy: “You not only have lied to all of us, but you just threatened my Conjunx’s life. And no one, and I mean, NO ONE does that on MY watch!” B-127 stares in disbelief as Buddy takes off their mask and throws it to the ground. B-127 and D-16: “Buddy!?” He turns to D-16. B-127: “I told you I wasn’t making them up!” D-16: “Now is not the time…”

Buddy tries their best to stay in between Sentinel and D-16 once they saw the Prime going to the standing miner.

The Prime easily grabbed them, bent their staff and servo in the process and casted them aside like scrap.

B-127 tried to get up, but Arachnid quickly restrained him.

D-16 looked downright murderous.

Buddy didn’t get up until they saw the engraving Sentinel gave to D-16.

They grabbed their broken staff and tried to stab the Prime.

Sentinel once again grabbed them with one servo while the other held his sword…

Sentinel: “Any last words miner?” Buddy glanced at a panic B-127 and a disbelief D-16. They looked back at the Prime and spat in his face. Buddy: “Rust in the Pits Sentinel.” HONK! HONK! Buddy: “Is that Pax?!”

The train had crashed into the wall throwing Sentinel and Buddy back.

B-127 quickly ran to Buddy’s side and pulled them out of the wreck with D-16 and Orion.

Buddy finally regained their conscious and hugged B-127 tightly.

He only hugged tighter.

Soon blaster fire was exchanged.

B-127 pulled Buddy close and covered them with his now larger frame.

The pair did not want to let go of each other, but Pax needed him.

Buddy just told him to go while they had D-16’s back.

D-16 and Buddy fighting Sentinel. Buddy: “When did you guys get big! And transform!?” D-16 blasting away: “Are you seriously asking that right now?!” Buddy ducking bast a stray blast. Buddy: “Absolutely!” D-16: “Long story short, Dead Prime gave us some T-cog’s, which we had but HE stole them!” Buddy scowls at Sentinel managing to kick him in the chin. Buddy: “You sick son of a—” D-16: “When were you going to tell us you were Conjunxed!?” Buddy: “I told you already!” D-16: “But why B!” Buddy: “He makes me laugh!” Buddy and D-16 look at each other then at Sentinel by the balcony. D-16: “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Buddy: “This is some grade A Pax stunts. Absolutely!”

The three of them stumbled out of the building and into the center arena.

It almost looked like some sort of stage now looking back.

Despite the size difference, Buddy and D-16 fought together like a well-oiled machine.

They both wanted Sentinel to suffer.

All they had worked for was ultimately for nothing.

Everything they worked for was to support this tyrant and his selfish ways.

No more…

No more!

Buddy stopped fighting for a minute when Orion pushed D-16 canon out of the way.

They didn’t know what was happening.

Then Orion was hit.

Buddy and D-16 both dove in grabbed the same servo. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Buddy: “Orion!” Orion: “Buddy?” D-16: “Why… why did you…?” Buddy remembered the sickening chill that went down their backstruts when they saw D-16’s optics go red. Buddy: “D?” D-16: “I’m done saving you.” D-16 let his grip go of Orion’s servo. Buddy quickly reached with their other servo to Orion’s. Buddy: “Orion hang on! D! D! What are you—” They felt a large servo grabbing their back and yanking them so hard that their grip loosened on Pax’s servos, sending him plummeting to the darkness bellow. Buddy looks at D-16 with tear filled optics. Buddy: “What did you do?!” Last thing they remembered was a fist heading way too fast to their face and screaming before everything went black.

When Buddy woke back up, they were in some sort of medbay.

The doctor gave them a curt nod and called in the visitors.

Buddy vented in relief when they saw Orion, now Optimus Prime, Elita-One and B-127, the last one racing towards them.

He placed their helm on his as he took a shaky vent and held their servo.

For once, he had nothing to say.

B-127 nearly lost the love of his life today and was not keen repeating the feeling again.

Never again.

[tomriddleslove]

can I please please please request a reverse grumpy x sunshine with theo 😭🙏🏼 i have a horrible cold rn and im pretty sure im getting a fever too and im so so close to my periods and im in some very desperate need for something nice 😭 it's totally fine if you can't or if you're busy, no pressure!

p.s. im in love with your writing! (if it wasn't obvious before)

Show a little loving.

✩ Theodore Nott x F!Reader

The one where a smitten Theodore Nott is willing to do anything and everything to see that smile of yours. It’s only a matter of time before he has to let you know - and the school mandated trip might make that a lot earlier.

A/N: This was so disgustingly cute i actually almost threw up but ig its necessary after 61 letters LOL (also @stardustsymphony ur actually amazing i hope you like it)

songs: Lovers - anna of the north

Theodore Nott had a habit of being too cheerful for his own good, especially in the mornings. You couldn’t figure out how he managed to wake up so early and still be this bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

It was unnatural.

You leaned against the Slytherin common room wall, waiting for your first class of the day, arms crossed and expression set in your usual neutral state. Your friends called it a "resting bitch face," though you insisted it was just your natural look.

Either way, no one seemed brave enough to bother you this early - except for Theo, of course.

"[name]!" His voice rang out from the entrance, and you groaned internally before turning your head to see him practically bouncing down the stairs, his dark hair flopping slightly as he moved.

“Too early for that much enthusiasm, Theo,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. He always had that effect on you, no matter how much you tried to resist it.

Theodore didn’t seem fazed. He gave you a wide grin as he plopped down next to you on the stone bench. “It’s never too early! Have you seen outside? It’s perfect weather - I thought we could grab breakfast and maybe sit by the lake before class.”

“Not sure if I’m awake enough for all that,” you grumbled, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself. The dungeons were always too cold in the mornings. “But breakfast doesn’t sound too bad.”

“See? You’re already coming around,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

It was a running joke between the two of you. Theo was always the optimist, the 'sunshine' that (much to your dismay) seemed hellbent on making you smile. He was one of your closest friends, so you let him get away with it, though you wouldn’t admit how much you enjoyed his company - or how much his smile did things to your heart you didn’t entirely understand yet.

He nudged your arm gently. “I even asked Mattheo to save you a croissant for breakfast. No need to thank me, though I’ll accept compliments.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him out of the common room, the two of you falling into step as you walked through the corridors. It was easy, the way you fit together. Where you were quiet, he filled the silence with his never-ending commentary on whatever came to mind-whether it was about the latest Quidditch scores or some random thing he noticed about the castle.

Today, it was the latter.

“Have you ever noticed how that one portrait near the Great Hall looks like it’s giving people side-eye? I feel rather judged every time I walk by.” he rambled, feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “No, but now I’m definitely going to look for it.”

“See? I’m expanding your horizons,” he said with a satisfied grin.

You shot him a sideways glance. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking and you’ll lose your seat.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that always made your stomach flip. “You’d miss me if I wasn’t there.”

You didn’t respond right away, but he wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t know how to describe the way your friendship with Theo felt like it was standing on the edge of something bigger, something neither of you had quite dared to name.

And maybe you weren’t ready for it just yet. But when he sat down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed under the table, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.

Theodore hummed contentedly as he reached for the little pot of sugar, dumping three heaped teaspoons into his coffee like it was perfectly normal behaviour. The steam rose lazily from the cup, and he stirred it absentmindedly, flashing you that familiar, easy-going smile.

“Have you packed for the astronomy trip tomorrow?” he asked casually, as though he hadn’t just committed a serious coffee crime right in front of you. “Apparently Tromsø is absolutely piss cold at this time of year. Draco was telling me.”

“I’ll help you pack later. Just so you don’t forget something important. Like, I don’t know, an extra jumper for me.”

You shot him a glare. “Sure, Theodore. I’ll just pack your entire wardrobe while I’m at it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of asking,” he replied, grinning again. “Just the scarf, though. You know, my lucky one.”

You snorted. “That hideous green one? Absolutely not.”

“Blasphemy,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, [name].”

“Good,” You deadpan, turning to look at him.

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with something between disbelief and amusement. “God, Theodore-” you chided, pointing at his cup with disgust, “is that not just sugar with a side of coffee?”

"Well someone needs to make up for the clear joy discrepancy in this friendship." He defended, taking a long sip as if to punctuate his point.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto your face. “Right, because your never-ending cheerfulness is the only thing keeping us all from a dark, miserable existence.”

“Exactly!” he declared, entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m performing a public service, really. One smile at a time.”

There was something ridiculously charming about how he just… didn’t care. Theodore was all lightness and laughter, one could argue too much so for a Slytherin.

“I wouldn’t need to drink quite so much sugar if you’d stop glaring at me like I’ve just murdered a puppy.” he teased, bumping your knee lightly under the table. “Honestly, one of these days I’m going to get you to smile before 10 a.m. Just you wait.”

You scoffed, but the warmth in his tone made it impossible to stay annoyed. “You’d have better luck with a Patronus charm.”

"There's a reason why I'm top of the DADA class" Theodore shot back with a cocky grin.

Despite yourself, you felt the corners of your mouth twitching upward, and before you could stop it, a smile crept across your face. Quickly, you took a sip of your coffee to cover it up, but Theodore noticed.

If you saw the way he looked at you, you'd know he was in love then and there. The way he almost melted into your expression, eyebrows almost furrowing as he looks over at you. Just as he opened his mouth, ready to say something - something he wasn’t even sure he was ready to admit to himself- Pansy’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Well, if it isn’t day and night sitting over here,” she chimed, plopping down next to you with a knowing smirk.

“Merlin’s sake, Theo. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.” Pansy’s voice broke through, dry and unimpressed as ever.

“I reckon the sugar’s the only thing keeping him tolerable,” Mattheo said, slouching into his chair and eyeing Theodore’s cup with disdain. “Otherwise, we'd have to listen to him drone on about defensive spells without end.”

You snorted into your coffee before you could help it, the sound surprising you. You couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up, covering your mouth as you shoot Mattheo a glare that was only half-serious. It was loud - unfiltered and genuine, and when you glanced up, you found Theodore staring at you with that easy smile, his eyes warm and a little too soft. Even with Mattheo’s jab at his expense, Theodore couldn’t bring himself to be mad, not when the sound of your laughter was still ringing in his ears.

“Right, like I’d ever come to you for life advice, Mattheo,” Theodore muttered, finally tearing his gaze away from you, though his grin lingered.

Mattheo shrugged lazily. “Probably shouldn't. I’m a terrible influence."

You let the three of them fall into conversation as you zone out, sipping on your coffee. Their chatter faded into the background as your mind wandered, focusing instead on the upcoming trip. The Astronomy class’s trip to Tromsø was all anyone could talk about lately.

And as the pessimist you were, all you could focus on was how damn cold it was going to be.

--

You were right.

It was cold - too damn cold.

As soon as the group stepped off the train in Tromsø, the icy wind cut through your layers like they were made of parchment. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, teeth chattering despite the heavy coat you wore.

"Bloody hell," you muttered under your breath, glancing around at your classmates as they all shivered in the bitter chill. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"Because it’s Norway, and we’re going to see the Northern Lights," Pansy answered with a 'that's so obvious' tone, bundling herself up in a fur-lined coat that looked like it cost more than your entire wardrobe.

You shot her a look. “I don’t care if we’re going to see dragons dancing in the sky. It’s fucking freezing.”

Pansy only rolled her eyes, linking arms with Lorenzo as they trudged ahead through the snow-covered streets. The rest of your group followed suit- Draco, Mattheo, Blaise, and, of course, Theodore- who was surprisingly unfazed by the weather, despite the hideous green scarf he insisted on wearing.

By the time you arrived at the lodge where you were all staying, your fingers were numb and your patience thin. The lodge was quaint, wooden, and cosily tucked away at the edge of the forest, the surrounding snow-capped trees giving it a 'hallmark christmas' charm.

You all shuffled into the common room, where the housekeeper with a rather large bushy moustache greeted you with thick blankets and far too much enthusiasm for someone who lived in such a cold climate. Everyone split off to their rooms, getting settled before heading out for the evening’s stargazing expedition - one you had organised amongst yourselves. You were sharing a room with Pansy, while Theodore was bunking with Blaise.

Once you'd unpacked, you met the group downstairs again. The fire crackled in the hearth as the others talked about what to do before heading out for the night.

Theodore appeared by your side, leaning casually against the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. "So," he started, that familiar grin tugging at his lips, "what do you want to do?"

You frowned at him in confusion. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because I want to do whatever you want to do," he replied simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "I don't care. I'll just go along with whatever everyone else is doing."

But Theodore wasn’t having it. "You always say that. C’mon, humor me."

Before you could argue, Mattheo walked past and clapped Theodore on the shoulder. "Come on, Nott, stop making her overthink. Let’s go grab some snacks and freeze our asses off while we wait for the lights," he said, and with that, the group started bundling up again, ready to head out into the freezing night.

--

The sky above was almost too perfect - as though it had been plucked straight from a postcard. It almost compensated for the bone numbing chill, the sight of string-light lit stalls far too pretty to make you feel grumpy.

For a while, though.

You trudged along beside Theodore, bundled in so many layers that it felt like your entire body had been wrapped in blankets. The long puffer jacket you wore reached nearly to your knees, and your scarf-wrapped around your neck at least three times-barely left room for your face to peek through. You couldn't help but grumble to yourself, tugging at the edge of your gloves to make sure no skin was exposed to the biting cold.

Theodore, of course, noticed immediately.

"Merlin's beard, you're waddling," he teased. "If you added another layer, you might not be able to walk at all."

You shot him a glare from under your knitted hat. "I'd rather waddle than freeze to death."

He chuckled, eyes flicking over your bundled-up form with an almost too-pleased look on his face. "I don’t know, it’s kind of cute. You look like a disgruntled penguin."

You snorted, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Glad you're entertained."

"Come on," he coaxed, nudging your arm lightly, "I bet under all those layers, you're secretly enjoying this. You’re just too stubborn to admit it."

"Enjoying this?" you asked incredulously, gesturing to the freezing air and the snow-covered ground beneath your feet. "I’m wearing half my wardrobe just to avoid becoming an icicle."

Theodore shrugged, his easy grin never faltering. "Still cute, though."

"You're insufferable, Nott," you muttered, scowling as you slap his arm.

He grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself for pulling that almost-smile out of you.

"Oi! We're gonna go see if we can get some hot chocolate and blankets before we set up for the evening, You guys just guard our spot before someone else grabs it." Blaise yells from a short distance, and Theodore nods as you groan. You wanted to be in the cosy warm lodge - not out here on an isolated ledge in the middle of god-knows where whist your friend traipse around the quaint markets.

You look up, momentarily stunned as the half sarcastic curses that were about to escape your mouth dry out on your tongue. Ripples of greens and blue entwine, seamlessly dancing through the dark that otherwise shrouded the night-sky. It wasn't magic, only charged particles from the sun colliding with gases in Earth's atmosphere, causing them to emit light in vibrant colors, typically seen near the polar regions (courtesy of muggle book you had read on the journey here) but it was nonetheless enchanting.

Surprisingly, your voice broke the silence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Theodore nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Yeah… it really is.”

There was a brief silence, and when you glanced over, you found Theodore watching you instead of the sky, his expression soft.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Nothing. Just trying to figure out how to make you smile.”

You huffed, turning your gaze back to the sky. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I like seeing it,” he said simply, his voice so sincere it made your stomach flip.

You didn’t respond, the weight of his words lingering in the cold air between you. After a moment, he sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “I’ll have to try harder, then.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your tone was more fond than irritated now.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “And you’re stubborn.”

You turned to chastise him, ready with another quip, but the words faltered when you looked up at him. The moonlight caught his features- soft shadows dancing across his sharp jawline, his eyes gleaming with that look that you had seen far too often these past few weeks. His scarf, that hideous green thing, was crooked as always, the ends flapping slightly in the breeze.

Your hands moved instinctively, reaching up to fix it. "This scarf..." you started, your voice trailing off as you focused on straightening it.

Theodore’s gaze never faltered as he watched you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face as if committing it to memory. "You know, I’m not sure if you actually hate the scarf or if it’s just an excuse to keep touching me."

You scowled, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you mumbled, but even you could hear the wavering in your voice.

His smile widened, but he didn’t say anything more, just stood there.

Before you knew what you were doing, you tugged him closer by the scarf, pulling him toward you. "This hideous scarf of yours," you muttered under your breath, using it as a flimsy excuse to hide the fact that you were really just closing the gap between you.

Theodore’s eyes flickered down to your lips, his breath fogging in the cold air between you. And then, without another word, you closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters. But the second his lips moved against yours, something inside you shifted. It was slow, unhurried, his hands gently cradling your face as if he had all the time in the world. The cold air disappeared entirely, replaced by the warmth of his touch, his closeness, and the feeling of him - consuming you.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, Theodore’s eyes were still on you, that stupid smile of his making your knees weak.

"You didn’t even fix the scarf," he whispered, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, still trying to catch your breath, but you couldn’t fight the grin that broke through. "Shut up."

But Theodore only laughed, leaning in again to steal another kiss.

Your gloved hands came up, fisting the thick wool of his jacket as you-

“Finally!” Pansy’s dry tone rang out, followed by the sound of scattered applause.

You and Theodore broke apart, startled, only to find the rest of your group approaching, grinning like idiots.

“What the-?” you began, but Blaise interrupted, holding up a handful of galleons.

“We made a bet on how long it’d take for you two to finally snog," he said with a grin, pocketing the winnings. "I was getting worried."

Your face burned, and your grumpy demeanor returned in full force as you glared at them all. "I hate every single one of you."

But before you could storm off, Theodore just chuckled, pulling you into his side with a warmth that made it hard to stay annoyed. "Don’t worry," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, "they’re just jealous."

Grumbling under your breath, you leaned into him as the group settled down.

Perhaps it wasn't all too bad.

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The days pass like cold mud – slow, uncomfortable, and relentless.

But they do pass.

Eddie had said he could give Steve the time he needed, and he’d meant it; he would wait out the two weeks and be there on the other side to talk to him. To hope for a second chance.

They see each other here and there, mostly in passing: Steve comes to pick a few of the kids up from a gaming session; Eddie stops in at Family Video with Jeff, Gareth, and Oliver to grab a movie (where Jeff and Steve exchange a surprisingly friendly greeting); they occupy separate sides of the room at a group dinner.

Each time, Eddie is sure to at least acknowledge and wave at Steve, in spite of any protective hovering and scowling Robin might be doing if she happens to be present. Steve gives cautious nods in return at first, but as they near the deadline, he’s returning Eddie’s distant greetings with a hesitant smile and that ridiculous little finger-wiggle wave that Eddie had been reluctantly charmed by in the beginning.

And in the meantime, Eddie plots.

He is not, by nature, an optimist (strangely, between the two of them, that’s Steve’s area), but in this instance, he plans for the best: the idea that Steve will say yes and let Eddie take him on a proper date. And as improvisational as Eddie likes to be, he’s also a veteran dungeon master and plotter of all sorts of campaigns; if you want long-term plans to go off without a hitch, it pays to be prepared.

So, he plots.

He brainstorms and makes lists of all of Steve’s favorite things and schemes out elaborate romantic gestures and draws on all the knowledge he’s retained from the romcoms he’d whined about having to watch with Steve but had always given in over when Steve gave him that puppy-eyed look that Eddie has no defense against.

(And somehow, he’d continued to think they were just friends. His lack of awareness should be studied as a scientific anomaly.)

He thinks Steve would be proud of his accumulated work (and Eddie himself isn’t ashamed of it, but all the same, he makes sure to hide the notebook where none of the guys will ever, ever stumble across it, because they would never, ever let Eddie live it down).

In any case, the ticking down of two weeks finally comes to an end, and Eddie stands in front of the phone earlier than he’d normally care to be awake, hoping that his work will pay off.

Steve picks up before the fourth ring, just like he always does, and answers the phone like a dork, just like he always does.

“Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

This is where Eddie normally makes a joke – says he’d been trying for the funeral home and asks if Steve happens to have a shovel and some time on his hands; says he thought he’d had the number for the Hawkins Gentleman’s Club and asks if Steve is much of a dancer; once, he’d even affected a terrible New York accent and spun some lines about how he’d been trying to call a speakeasy. He can always hear the laughter caught behind Steve’s dry responses to his nonsense, and he always loves it.

But now is not “normally,” and Eddie only just manages to sound like himself as he replies, “Steve. Just the Harrington I was hoping would speak.”

“Eddie,” is all Steve says for a moment; he sounds almost surprised, but not displeased. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie says back. “So, I know punctuality has never been my strong suit, but it’s, uh. It’s been two weeks. Pretty much on the dot. And you said I should come talk to you again, so…”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, no, did you – You can come over. If you want to talk, still,” Steve says – stammers, really, like he’s been caught off-guard, like he really hadn’t been expecting Eddie to call.

“Well, if I didn’t change my mind in two weeks, I’m not gonna change my mind in the fifteen minutes it takes to get to your house,” Eddie says.

“Sure,” Steve says, a little steadier now. “Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

“You definitely will,” Eddie assures him. “See you in a bit, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yes. Bye, Eddie.”

It’s awkward, but – it’s something.

The only reason Eddie doesn’t break an egregious number of traffic laws on his way to Steve’s house is because he simply couldn’t bear the irony of getting arrested now, of all times. With his luck, he’d get sent up the river and Steve would be left waiting and waiting at his house before coming to the conclusion that Eddie had never really cared about him after all, only to be found surprised and jaded several years later when Eddie is finally released from prison and makes his first stop the Harrington house and – Christ, Eddie’s had romance on the brain too long. He’s going to have to binge reread Lord of the Rings or something to get his head back on straight.

He pulls his head out of the clouds and his van into the Harrington’s ridiculously massive driveway and heads up to the door with a vibrating surplus of energy sustained entirely by nerves and determination.

It seems like he’s not the only one running on anxiety power, though, based on how quickly the door opens after Eddie rings the bell.

It’s the first time Eddie’s really seen Steve up close since the trailer two weeks ago. He looks– better. He’s still tired, Eddie can tell; he’s got that slightly droopy look around his eyes and an almost painful set to his jaw that’s nearly impossible to spot if you don’t know what to look for – and most people don’t (but Eddie’s spent a lot of time learning Steve, even if he hadn’t picked up all the right tells). But he still looks better, and Eddie finds himself relieved.

“Hey, there,” he says, giving Steve a nod. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, y’know. Thought I’d drop by.”

Steve shakes his head, a tiny smile quirking up at one corner of his mouth. “Come in, jackass.”

“Fine way to treat your guests,” Eddie drawls in return, gratified when Steve’s smile grows just a tiny bit more.

He takes off his shoes at the entryway (Steve hardly ever asks anyone to take off their shoes, because worrying about the state of your floors isn’t cool, but it bothers him all the same, and so Eddie takes them off) and follows Steve through to the living room, where they both perch awkwardly on the couch and sit in an equally awkward silence for about thirty seconds.

“So… you said I should come talk to you,” Eddie says finally.

“I did, yeah.” Steve nods.

“You said to tell you if this was still something I wanted,” Eddie goes on.

“I did, yeah,” Steve says again. “And… you’re here.”

“I told you I wouldn’t change my mind, Steve.” Eddie’s hand twitches, almost instinctively reaching out for a spot on Steve’s knee, or around his wrist, or threaded through his fingers, but he doesn’t think he can take Steve freezing up or pulling away again. “This – you, us – I still want it. I want to do it right. If you’ll give me the chance, I want to treat you how you should be treated.”

Steve nods. “Okay.”

Eddie blinks. “Okay? As in – just, yeah, okay?” He knows he’s not making much sense, but he’d been sort of prepared to have to make his case – to extol the virtues of the perfect dates he had planned, to sing the praises of all the things he knows now that he should appreciate about Steve, to lament the loss of trust and ease between them, but instead Steve is just sitting there, watching him with a funny sort of smile on his face.

“I was… I was never going to say no, Eddie.” Steve shrugs. “I just really needed you to think about it. To make sure this—a real relationship with… with me—is really what you wanted. Because if it’s not, if you took it back again, I don’t think I’d– I just really needed you to be sure.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, low and serious, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. A real relationship with you is exactly what I want.”

Steve’s smile twitches, changes into something a little more familiar, a little warmer. “Okay.”

“You’re never gonna regret it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, can’t help bouncing a little in his seat as his nerves turn to excitement, to elation. “I have the corniest, most romantic dates planned, I swear, I’m going to knock your socks off. We’ll unlock your inner Molly Ringwald.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve shakes his head at Eddie. “You really don’t have to do all that. I’m not– putting you through a trial, or whatever, we can just go back to what we were doing, right? Just with… I dunno, more awareness.”

“Noooo, no.” Eddie shakes his head right back. “You said you didn’t want to pretend nothing ever happened, and you shouldn’t have to. I want to do this, Steve. Let me take you on a real date.”

Something unreadable flashes across Steve’s face, and suddenly his smile is wrong again. Sort of plastic – like he’s trying, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes. But before Eddie can ask what’s wrong, Steve is shrugging.

“If you insist…”

“I most certainly do,” Eddie says firmly. “I’m gonna romance the shit out of you.”

At that, Steve releases a helpless snort of laughter, and the plastic smile is gone, blown away by a real one.

“You’re making a super good argument for it,” Steve says, and Eddie grins.

“Aren’t I?” He bats his eyelashes. “So tell me: you free on Friday night?”

“I’m working, actually. Someone has to dole out dumb romances to other people out on dates,” Steve says drily, as if he himself hasn’t seen most of the films he’s maligning.

Eddie hums. “Saturday?”

“I could probably get someone to cover my shift,” Steve hedges, teasing and flirty and everything Eddie’s missed in the last few weeks.

“So you’ll be free?” Eddie asks.

“As a bird – as long as that bird isn’t a robin, considering who’s going to have to cover for me,” Steve says, and Eddie pulls a grimace.

“Yeah, maybe don’t tell her why you need the shift covered. I get the feeling she wouldn’t be as agreeable if she knew I was involved,” he says.

“I don’t think Robin’s ever been agreeable in her life, and she’d probably resent the accusation.” Steve smirks. “But as long as she doesn’t think I’m sneaking away to see you, and if I take the Monday morning shift she really hates, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Let’s plan for Saturday?”

“Saturday it is!” Eddie pops up off the couch, both unwilling to sour the mood by overstaying his welcome, and suddenly overflowing with the need to set preparations in motion. “Six o’clock, sharp! I’ll pick you up.”

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Steve asks, one eyebrow cocked.

“Absolutely not. The surprise is part of the experience,” Eddie says.

“Dress code, at least?” Steve wheedles, and Eddie supposes that’s fair.

“Casual. And bring a jacket,” Eddie says.

Both of Steve’s brows go up now, as he rises from the couch to follow Eddie back out towards the door. “Telling someone to bring outerwear to a date is usually a red flag, man,” he says, watching as Eddie shoves his shoes back on.

“But you love being outside,” Eddie counters, glancing up at Steve with a grin.

“I,” Steve pauses, blinking at him. “I guess.”

“And no more hints,” Eddie says, rising from the floor and reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice warming around a small, pleased smile, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Can’t wait.” Eddie throws one last grin at him before stepping out into the brisk, late fall air.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Part 7

-

Tag List (Drop me a line if you'd like off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

The tag list is full at this time, but I'll be posting this fic to Ao3 soon, so hopefully people can subscribe there if they want update alerts?

[chlix]

sharpest tool

bf! chan x fem! reader: chan doesn't love you like you love him. you're not planning on doing anything about it

genre: angst, suggestive (but not actually very fun or sexy)

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: toxic relationships/situationships, arguing, self-worth issues

a/n: this fic is inspired by "sharpest tool" off sabrina carpenter's new album! i heard it and immediately knew i wanted to write for it. i also plan on doing other songs off the album with other members but we'll see if i get to that before the album loses all relevance 💀

“What’s new with you then?” your coworker Seohyeon asks once the lunch rush dies down. You’re wiping spilled coffee off the bar and she’s pretending to reorganize the stacks by the till, but really, you’re both just trying to look busy while you recover from the last round of customers. Seohyeon has already bitched about her evil landlord and snitched on your manager for critiquing the way the new girl set up the cup display. Now, it’s your turn to overshare. Unfortunately, your life is scant of any juicy details.

“Nothing. You know I have no life outside this job,” you say.

“So not true,” she says. “What about that guy who keeps hanging around waiting for you to get off every day? How’s that going?”

You stiffen. “It’s going.”

She hums sympathetically. “That bad, huh?”

You drop your rag in the bucket of sanitizer water and take a long breath.

“It’s not bad. It’s not really anything right now.”

“You know, I mentioned how he’s always waiting for you, but I haven’t really seen him in a couple of weeks.”

“You and me both,” you mutter. Unwittingly, your hands drift to your phone in your apron pocket, hoping it’ll buzz and you’ll get a text from Chan, as if he’d sense you thinking about him and give you the attention that you’ve been craving. When you first met, the two of you had that kind of psychic connection. It was like you were of one mind. He was everything you wanted in a guy. He still is.

That’s what makes this all so difficult.

The idea of Chan using you as a warm body isn’t inherently distressing. Or, it wouldn’t have been, if he’d posed the idea initially. Maybe if he’d asked you for that up front, then you would’ve known better than to catch feelings. Or at least if you had, then you could take all the blame unto yourself for being softhearted, overly optimistic. He could be blameless. This would be easier if he was a bad person. Or maybe he is, and you just love him too much to care.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears,” Seohyeon says.

“There’s not much to say. We weren’t really even dating. I think. I mean, he doesn’t owe me anything.”

Seohyeon gives you a knowing look, and it makes anything else you were planning on saying stick in your throat.

“Get well soon, girl,” she says, and turns back to the till. You swallow, pick up the bucket of dirty water, and go to dump it out in the sink in the back.

Chan does not come in at the end of your shift and wait for you. Of course not. He does text you, though.

Hey, he says. It’s the first time he’s spoken to you in a week. The casual nature of it swallows you alive.

Hey

Busy tonight?

Never for you <3

My place? 8?

It’s almost pathetic of you to keep falling for the same old trick. Can it even be called a trick if you’re neither fooled nor impressed? You always knew you were just a placeholder, filling in the gaps for when he can’t have the girls he really wants. He doesn’t have to make it so obvious, though.

Placeholder. It’s one of those thoughts that as soon as it crosses your mind, you know you’ve already lost. You’re not sure if Chan realizes that’s what he’s turned you into. You can’t really blame him. You only recently realized it yourself. You’ve been hooking up for months, you’ve been hanging out with his friends, you’ve been posting each other and having cozy nights in with long conversations that last until the early morning. He’s your baby. You’re his girl. But you’re not his girlfriend. Six missing letters and suddenly, you’re the crazy one.

You wonder if Chan knows how these periods of long silence make you feel like a cheap lay, like someone he doesn’t even know. Maybe he does, and this is all an elaborate manipulation tactic that’s working distressingly well. Maybe he doesn’t know, and you’re projecting malice onto his thoughtlessness.

It doesn’t matter either way. You know it, and you’re still going to go.

Ok <3

You put your phone away and start walking to the bus. You need to go home and get ready.

You arrive at his apartment just before eight pm. He hates it when people aren’t punctual, and you hate it when he’s upset, so here you are, shaved and showered and dressed all pretty. You’ve developed a scarcity mindset around him- you need to make sure every time he sees you is perfect because the incidents are so few and far between. You need to look irresistible, so enticing that he’ll be begging to come see you again. It’s so pathetic that you piss yourself off on a daily basis.

You fix your hair and clothes, ring his doorbell. He answers the door, all smiles and muscle tees, and it almost makes you forget that you haven’t seen him since the last full moon. It’s like a thirst that doesn’t make itself known until that first drop of water.

“Hey, baby,” he says, drawing you into his arms. He kisses you deeply, not lustful but loving and you let yourself fall into it.

“Missed you,” he says, low in your ear. He smells like aftershave, like sandalwood and pine.

“Missed you more.”

He pulls you into his apartment and closes the door behind you so he can press you up against it and kiss you again. He licks into your mouth, and you let him, bringing your own hands up to cup his face. The barest bit of his stubble tickles against your palms. His body is warm and solid against you, it makes your knees weak, makes your heart race. For the moment, you forget every grievance you’ve ever had with him. You forget how upset you were at work today, and Seohyeon’s pity, and how empty your phone has been lately. The world outside the two of you might as well not exist.

Chan’s hands slide up under your shirt, pressed against your stomach. Your gut twists.

The illusion shatters.

You pull your lips away from him.

“Chan,” you say, trying to be authoritative, but you’re breathless. He moves away from your mouth and latches onto your neck, and your body reacts without your permission, arching into the touch, but you pull your hands away and press on his chest.

“Chan, stop.”

He lets you push him, taking a step back and looking down at you with blown wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just…not feeling it.”

“Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to pounce on you. We can move to the bedroom if you want?”

“No…” That sticky feeling is building in your throat again. “I’m just not really in the mood for sex at all, right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward silence stretches between you. He’s just looking at you, unsure how to proceed, and you want to die a little more every minute.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll just- I’ll go-”

“No, wait!” He catches your arm as you go to turn away. “You don’t have to leave. I’m the one who’s sorry. You shouldn’t have to apologize for something like this.”

“Okay…”

He kisses your forehead again, affectionate and chaste. “I’m glad you came. I wasn’t lying about missing you, yeah? Let’s just have a chill night in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll order in. It’ll be nice.”

You let out a long breath and pull him into a hug. He embraces you, and your ear ends up pressed against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat thrumming under his ear, soothing, reassuring.

Okay. Okay okay okay.

You try to have a good night, you really do. You want to be happy when you’re around him, but it’s like a switch has flipped in your head and it’s impossible to truly relax. He orders food from your favorite place without you having to even ask.

“You want your usual?” he asks.

“You still remember my usual?”

“I remember everything about you, love.”

You think about earlier, how he’d known to text you as soon as you got off work yet hadn’t made the effort to actually show up like he used to. You tell him your usual is fine and kiss him on the cheek.

When the food arrives, you curl together on the couch under blankets and put on some show as background noise. There was a drama you were watching together, but he doesn’t bring it up and neither do you. As he pulls up Netflix, you notice the title card in his Recently Watched, but you haven’t been over in so long that you know it can’t be from the last time you were together. He doesn’t pause, skipping over it completely to select another random thumbnail.

“This okay?”

You hum an affirmative and the Netflix logo appears on the screen, signaling the start of the episode. You eat your food and try to focus on how good it tastes instead of how leaden your stomach feels.

As the night wears on, you realize that he’s being cagey. He asks you questions about your life and your job, about your sister and her baby and your plans for the holidays. He’s always been a good listener, always attentive and empathetic and curious. He’s been good at getting secrets out of you as long as you’ve known him.

I’ve never told anyone this before, you would start sentences, but I feel like I can trust you.

You can, he’d respond. I’d never judge you. I care about all of you, even the parts you might not care about yourself.

Always so welcoming, so loving. It had you spilling your guts after only the third date.

I’m rambling, I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear about all my baggage.

Y/n, I want to know anything you’re willing to tell me. Communication is important in relationships. It builds strong foundations.

And yet here he is, only a few months later, dodging all your questions about where he’s been or what he’s been up to.

“How’s work?”

“It’s been alright.”

“You’re pretty busy around this time of year, aren’t you?”

Chan shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m used to it by now.”

You nod around the fork in your mouth, unsure how to continue the line of inquiry. You try again, another topic this time.

“Did you hear about that giant pile up downtown? There were like ten cars involved.”

“I haven’t been watching the news much lately.”

“Well what have you been watching?”

“I’ve kind of had other things going on. Not much time for leisure.”

“Right. You said you were busy with work.”

He doesn’t reply to this. You want to shrink into the couch cushions and coil inside one of the springs.

You eat in silence for a while, eyes flittering between the screen and his face. Once or twice, his phone will ding, and he’ll pick up and scroll through it, shoot back a quick reply. You don’t ask who’s contacting him. When he’s done, he sets his phone face down on the table, out of your reach.

When you’re both done, he takes the empty containers from you and goes to dispose them. His hair bounces as he moves, curling around his ears and the tops of his brows.

“Your hair’s getting long.”

“Is it?” He pulls at a loose curl, stretching it out in front of him critically. “Guess I should get it cut.”

“Nooo, I like it. It suits you.”

He glances at you shyly. “You think?”

“I know. You look adorable.”

“I can’t be walking around adorable. What would that do to my image?”

“Right. Mr. Tough Guy Bang Chan, who always has short hair and thick biceps. There’s a brand image to consider.”

“Exactly! I knew you’d understand.” His cheeks dimple in his smile, but it’s shaky, and it disappears as quickly as it came. “And anyway, I just don’t think…” He trails off.

“Don’t think what?”

Chan stays quiet for a while, lost in thought. You’re unsure whether or not to push, but before you can say anything else, he snaps out of it. He shakes his head as if to clear it and throws an apologetic look your way.

“Never mind. Just getting too into my head.”

Concerned, you rise from the couch and cross the room to his kitchen.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you. I care about you.”

Chan isn’t meeting your eyes. “Just leave it alone, y/n. It’s stupid anyway.”

“Something bothering you could never be stupid.”

“I said just leave it alone.” His voice is harsh now, face hardened in the way he does when he’s not being nice anymore. He’s putting his walls up and you don’t understand why, and it’s tearing at you, the cumulative weight of all this distance.

“Okay. Whatever then.”

You turn around and start walking back towards the couch.

“Whatever?”

The audacity to sound offended after the way he’s been treating you.

“I can’t make you talk to me. If you don’t want to tell me anything then why keep asking?”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’ve been talking to you all night.”

“No, you haven’t. You’re shutting me out.”

“Shutting you out?” He sounds genuinely confused. You stop halfway back to the living room and turn to look at him.

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

He lets out a short laugh and pushes his curly bangs away from his forehead, hands alight with anxious energy.

“Y/n I invited you over here. We’ve been talking and watching the show. I thought we were having a good night. Now I want to keep one thought to myself and I’m ‘shutting you out’?”

That same twisting in your gut starts up again.

“You’re making me sound so unreasonable.”

“I mean, can’t you see how this looks from my perspective?” He turns away from you and pinches the bridge of his nose, like he’s developing a headache. Like he’s the one being tormented. “Sometimes I feel like you and I are living in different realities.”

It’s like a dagger in your chest. All your indignation leaves you, leaking out of you and pooling at your feet in a sad little puddle of self-respect.

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

You set out of your ring of self-loathing and approach the island where he is, still turned away from him. You reach out a shaking hand and turn him to face you. When you meet his eyes, you see frustration, confusion, and helplessness.

You’re a placeholder. You know it, Seohyeon knows it, the girl he’s been texting all night knows it. It’s possible Chan doesn’t.

That’s fine. You know it, and you’re in love with him anyway.

You press your hands against his chest, leaning up so you can look right in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “You’re right. I’ve been on edge lately; I didn’t mean it.” You smile, self-deprecating, embarrassed. “Forgive me?”

Chan lets out a long breath. He grabs your hand and kisses it, then keeps holding on to it, his grip strong and secure.

“Nothing to forgive. I’ve been all over the place too. But we’re here now, together. So let’s just relax, yeah?”

You nod. He leans down and kisses you. The twisting in your gut persists, but you don’t pull away until he does.

“Let’s go finish this episode,” he says, and goes to lead you both back to the living room.

The night feels like a failure. You can’t figure out why, but the thought of just finishing your show and then putting your coat and boots back on and leaving feels like accepting defeat. Your legs are unstable underneath you, but not in the way they were earlier, when Chan was kissing you like his life depended on it. Now, you are standing at the top of a very tall hill, fighting against gravity to remain upright on the slope.

Get well soon, girl.

You close your eyes tightly, then reach forward and grab the back of Chan’s shirt. He jolts, surprised, then turns back to you. You release his jacket as he turns and grab his hand instead, lacing your fingers together.

“Forget the show,” you say. “Take me to bed.”

His eyes widen. “Are you sure? Earlier you said-”

“I’m too in my head. You’re right. I should try to relax. I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You get on tiptoe and lean up to his ear and whisper. “You can make me feel better, right Channie?”

Chan’s fingers tighten around yours. When you lower yourself back onto your heels, he’s looking down at you with dark eyes. You push down your unease, leave it abandoned on the floor with your anger and ego and heartbreak.

“You’re sure.”

“Never surer. Unless you don’t want-”

He effectively silences you by sweeping you into his arms, lifting you up like you weigh nothing.

“Baby, you have no idea the things I want.”

You laugh, shocked at the display of strength, and wrap your arms around him as he carries you away. The last thing you see before he shuts the bedroom door is his phone on the table, vibrating with an unanswered call.

[dykesynthezoid]

I do think we’re getting at least some escalation of devil’s minion in s3 btw. And I don’t think that’s even me being hopeful or optimistic I think it’s literally just logical.

I’ve seen people say oh, but devil’s minion happens in QOTD, and s3 is TVL; and firstly, they’ve definitely made it sound like some elements of queen of the damned are going to be present in s3. Secondly, I suspect season 3 is going to end with the lead up to Lestat’s San Francisco concert. So the whole season will be both Lestat backstory + the set up for the events of QOTD. And devil’s minion happens, guess what, before Lestat’s San Francisco concert. It would almost not make sense to not at least touch on it while the other story beats are culminating up to that moment. Like, Daniel and Armand are already present in the story (where they aren’t in the book in the modern day storyline), why would you not continue their storylines to the next logical step?

Also, I think you have to consider just how many new characters and storylines QOTD introduces and how daunting that can be to absorb if you’re unfamiliar. Waiting to do anything with devil’s minion until season 4 means that’s just one more new storyline to have to inject into a narrative already very crowded with exposition. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense to do that, and I suspect the writers are pretty aware of that.

And frankly like. What other storylines would Daniel and Armand be getting? Like how are either of their stories supposed to move forward without, y’know, each other? Are we supposed to expect all of season 3 just to be one big pause button on both their larger narratives? That seems very silly. Daniel at least has the journey of adjusting to vampirism, but Armand especially is like. His semi-redemption and character evolution comes from devil’s minion. That’s the only real next step for him.

And I mean. Look at Assad and Eric. I don’t think Rolin Jones could convince them to wait a whole other season for something to happen if he tried. I know, I know it’s easy to be like “oh but maybe it’s just actors being silly” but compare how open they’re being about it now and how much more tight lipped they were in between seasons one and two. It’s night and day. It is a very very different vibe. And apparently, Assad has been plenty excited about it this entire time, so he was actually somehow managing to keep his mouth shut before. But now maybe he doesn’t need to, because he knows season 3 will at least offer something in the way of that development.

I think it’s entirely possible we won’t necessarily see the full “culmination” of their relationship until season 4, but I do think season 3 will at least have development and escalating tensions that are undeniable. I think it’ll likely start out slow and ramp up as the season continues. I’m not going to panic if we don’t get much in the first few episodes or if it takes until episode five to see Daniel’s turning. That might be needed, honestly, in terms of giving Lestat his necessary focus. But I think more small pieces will begin to accumulate, will escalate to a place of higher tension by the mid season, and then the finale will include some type of reveal or emotional climax, setting things up going into season 4.

And you know what, it’s worth mentioning: things have happened faster on this show than I expected before! I did not expect Daniel to be turned at the end of season 2. I thought we probably had a whole other season to go before that happened. “Well they were afraid of cancellation” / “well Eric just wanted to be a vampire so badly” and will these things also not apply to season 3/Eric and Assad wanting devil’s minion?? Idk babes. I’m doing the math and it doesn’t seem that crazy to me

[insecure-snek]

I feel like this is probably an unpopular opinion (that’s why I’m posting here and not on twitter) but I just wanna know if anyone else feels this way.

Obviously, I think Wilbur is the one Shelby is talking about, and as someone who was also abused, I feel stronger hearing her story. I hope she’s able to find peace soon.

Maybe I’m just an overly optimistic person, but I think Wilbur needs help. A lot of it. And I think, probably not a popular idea, that even though he’s a piece of shit in this situation, that he deserves it.

I’m an overly trusting person by nature. Obviously I wasn’t there when any of this happened. I am just a stranger on the internet. I don’t know what went on, I didn’t see anything happen. However, I think I want Wilbur to get better and I think he can.

He needs to be deplatformed. At least until he has PUBLICLY apologized to Shelby, and is showing to his friends (not us, the audience, not only Shelby, EVERYONE HE KNOWS PERSONALLY) that he is making an effort to never treat another person like that again. But I think, and please don’t come with your pitchforks for me, the person Wilbur abuses the most is himself.

He clearly has other problems that are not making him a good person. Mental health is not a excuse for poor behavior. However, it is an explanation. Your mental health issues and trauma are not your fault, however, managing both those things are unfortunately YOUR responsibility. They are HIS Responsibility to fix and manage, not Shelby’s, not Phil’s, not James, NO ONE BUT HIM.

Call me stupid, or crazy, or whatever, but I firmly believe in the idea of (almost) every human being capable of change. I have siblings who used to treat me terribly, who are much older than me, and I was hurt by them. But as I grew, I saw them realize just how terrible they treated me. They changed their behavior, and apologized to me many many times. They showed me people can wake up and change their lives around. And, whether or not Wilbur comes back to content creation, I hope he gets the help he so clearly needs.

Shelby owes him nothing. His fan base owes him nothing. His friends owe him nothing. Wilbur owes them everything. Shelby deserves to hold back her forgiveness when it so clearly isn’t deserved. She should never forgive him if she doesn’t want to. That’s her right.

Maybe I believe in people too much. But I truly hope he changes. Not only for his friends, family, and loved ones, but for his own sake. He’s going to end up dead if he continues this way, and I believe no one deserves to die. (I’m not even for the death penalty. Let them sit and suffer forever).

Anyway, get some rest all, drink some water, and remember that the world becoming a better place starts with you. Treat people the way you wanna be treated. 💕

Update: Wilbur’s response was absolutely awful, no surprise there. As someone else who responded said, abusers often don’t think of themselves as such. I still hope he gets help. Props to ranboo and all the others standing up to him. I hope this wakes him the fuck up. Until further notice, please stop supporting him. Unfollow him, un add his music, whatever you can to get him to deeply regret this shit he’s done. Those were his actions. These are the consequences.

[fishtomale]

I’m a white neurodivergent and mentally ill trans man from Ohio who has survived multiple forms of abuse. That being said, I’m currently in a happy long term and long distance relationship with my trans girlfriend who is Germany. I want to save up for our wedding and moving in together, but right now rent, food, psychiatric medicine, and transportation are taking priority. My serving job has been cutting my and my coworkers shifts and the shifts I have had have been significantly less profitable this year than the previous two with this employer. I am working with my coworkers to pick up additional shifts and working personally to find a new job entirely. Finding a job in which I can openly live as male however has been challenging and my job’s recent change in management has made my need for work and funds far more urgent. As of today (November 10, 2023) I am $350 behind on last month’s rent and I am not hopeful for the following two. My savings are depleted from paying what I could of last month’s rent.

Anything you can give right now would mean a lot to me and also my girlfriend, even if that just means $1, $5, reblogging and sharing this post, or offering encouragement either in private or through anonymous asks. Thank you for reading this far.

venmo: @hamish97

CashApp: $hellohamish

(I also have tips open on tumblr)

$25 / $2500

[sugudoe]

──── .𖥔˚ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍, toji ⋆.˚

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you had been taught that everything that happens, is the best it could be. meeting fushiguro toji was the second highlight of your life, losing him was your lowest point. you kept strong for your children for ten years, until he suddenly comes back — and maybe, that’s the best bittersweet gift life can give you, as an apology for the past.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i cried lots and lots while writing this, hope you all have fun, cause i didn’t. divider.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with a bit of fluff / domestic violence (not from toji) / fem!reader / curse!au / mention and description of blood, death, guns / sexual innuendo / foul language / smoking / slightly ooc!toji and ooc!megumi (they cry) / reader is tsumiki’s mom / english is not my first language.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.2k

It could be said that life had a wicked way of granting you wishes and getting them back, but you had always been so optimistic, so satisfied with whatever was throw your way. Never understanding that this force of nature had been either protecting you, or making you go the right path. It took some time, turbulences, weakness, but you followed your instincts, and eventually, your heart.

You had a daughter of your own with your ex husband, Hasuko, who had been nothing but a terrible man. You could handle the verbal abuse towards you, but when he set his eyes on Tsumiki and started to be verbally aggressive to her, you knew it was time to step up.

The little baby had just turned eight months, and you were alone in this world with her lovely presence and the tempestuous personality of Hasuko — he was rude and borderline dangerous, his jealousy had made you leave your old life behind, so you were dependent on him.

Everyday, you kept stealing from his wallet whenever he went to sleep or got drunk, he was a terrible gambler and never suspected, no matter the amount you took, but you still had care, and only when Tsumiki was almost two, you managed to scape to a crappy hotel room, far away enough from the putrid smell of your husband and his hard hand.

It was by the moon light and weirdly looking hotel’s pool you met a man offering you a cigarette. It’s all he did, sitting in a sun chair by your side, and giving you the white stick you gracefully took it, thanking him with barely a whisper.

“You’re A7, right?” He wondered, and it takes you by surprise and makes you uneven how he knows your room. “Don’t worry, I only know because I’m A14, right in front of you. That baby of yours kept crying last night and today all day, that’s why I’m giving you the cigarettes, you must be tired.”

“I’m sorry, she’s just in a new place, we weren’t used to getting out of the house.” You take a puff of the cigarette, while your mind screams at you to shut up.

“May I take a guess?” The man holds his tie before undoing it. You hesitantly nod. “You are running away. By the purple on your cheeks and the marks on your neck, I’d say from your husband.” You stare at your bruised knuckles to avoid his stare. “Also can see you can fight, good. How did you left him?”

“In the middle of the night…” Your voice is cracking before you gulp the tears away. “I put her in the car, when I got back in the house for our things he was awake.” You stare at the unknown male. “I might have punched him a few times, and hit him with a pan. I don’t know. He tried to go to her, and I acted on impulse.”

“Nothing is more powerful than a mother’s love or rage, and sometimes both can create a terrible chaotic fusion for the receiver of it.” You agree to his words by again smoking. “Let me tell you something, the same shit happened to me, I was the child in the situation. I know you don’t know me, but I can help you, let me help you, like a stranger did with my mom many years ago.”

That was the day you met Shiu Kong, and that was the time your life became better, even if just for some years, you owned Shiu everything — your job as his assistant, the house you bought for your daughter and you, and most importantly, that you met Fushiguro Toji through him.

And how wonderful grateful you had been for your friend and Toji, had they never crossed your life, you had no ideia what would you be like right now, it’s not something you would like to know or keep wasting time thinking about. You see the present and you love it, as the gift life has been giving you since the day you left Hasuko behind.

The man tracked you down once, after you send him the divorce papers months later, he found you in a matter of weeks. Knocking at your door, screaming insults in that tone you knew was carried with lots of alcohol and as you held your daughter with all your strength, Toji happened to be at your house, getting details about his next mission, and he walked calmly to the entrance. You didn’t heard much, the only sound was the constant blood flowing through your veins in inhuman speed, scaring you terribly. But the man returned — ripped knuckles painted red, satisfying smirk and your papers signed with a trembling signature and blood prints.

“It’s alright. He is not coming back.” Was all Toji said before grabbing your anxious self to his arms, Tsumiki sleeping peacefully on top of you. “You can rest now.”

After two months, Toji learned more about you, and specially your hate for gambling.

“It’s something my ex would do all the time, Shiu used to as well, but I stopped him. That’s how he has more money nowadays, and so do I, because my salary increased.” You tell Toji under the kitchen orange light, preparing salmon with veggies for dinner. You add a pinch of salt before turning to face him, in his comically large sweater. “You could do much more, Toji, much better.”

His past it’s not a secret he tried to keep from you, he just never said anything because you haven’t asked. The truth of his wife passing and his baby of one year was something you learned when Shiu, always the babysitter, begged you to take care of Megumi earlier that day, which prompted you to this conversation, he had to be better for his son.

You did babysat happily and set both babies in your living room, playing games, mumbling gibberish, painting your walls. You had been so broken by Hasuko, his rage to Tsumiki made you allow her to be a child freely now, and children get messy, and this mess becomes a memoir.

When Toji came to pick his son up, he was baffled at the crayons Megumi was holding, and the fact you were laughing and encouraging his antics in your perfect cream wall. But he dared not to complain, for inside your eyes he saw that sparkle he noticed missing the first time he saw you. How dull you had been in the beginning, and now you were getting happy and safe. He couldn’t tell you no in that moment, couldn’t waste his money like he intended to, Toji trusted you and your judgment more than he trusted himself.

“Alright.” He agrees while getting up and starting to mash the potatoes. “I’ll stop gambling under one condition: go out with me. Let me do something more productive with the money.”

And you say yes, hesitantly of course, you still have deeply unseen scars forged by the past. But when you steal a glance at Toji, sitting in your dinning table, feeding his baby while you feed yours, you can’t help but allow the nerves to dissipate just a little.

It’s enough to stop the trembling of your fingers when he takes you to a fancy restaurant, wearing a black silk shirt you could guess Shiu made him buy that day, same as he did with you and the equal black silk dress you are wearing. You both smile in acknowledgment, but say nothing of it, except when Toji starts to compliment you, and in the middle of your crimson cheeks and biting your red tinted lips, like a teenager, you thank him.

Is easy to be with Toji anywhere, but in that formal space the two of you are left uncomfortable, specially while reading the menu and not understanding the meaning of anything, Toji cracks a joke about the restaurant name that makes you snort loud. The male smirks proudly.

“Would you think I’m an asshole if I say we should leave here and go eat at this small diner I know?” He asks.

“No, I would thank you very much.” Inching your face closer to his, you answered quietly.

Toji gets up and moves your way, standing you his hand, not knowing that the moment yours would come in contact, it would fix perfectly, electrically enough to shake something in both of your core. The two of you leave with contempt smiles, reaching the diner later that night and eating the most amazing hamburger you’ve had.

Life with Fushiguro Toji is meant to be, you could say. Like finding the final piece of your most difficult puzzle, and your life, you could assume, was an incredibly detailed one. But the man fit in it so well, right by the center, you wonder if he was always meant to be yours, and you already now the answer.

It clicks in the male as well how much you mean to him, so it takes no one by surprise how he has you in a court, a year later, marrying him with Shiu as a crying witness and your babies by your side. And in that same day, you both officially adopt the other’s child.

It’s how it was always meant to be, the domesticated feeling of being happy and secure, and fully loved to an extent no other heart could catch, it’s what you all deserve. Your little family.

Unfortunately, happiness last for only four more years. It’s all life give to you, this less than a decade love that you will never forget, every minimal detail is entangled in your memories, all painted by your lover, with his gentle and yet brutal hands. You still remember how the end began, it was with Toji coming home stressed, with blood covering his whole body — he had been in a fight.

“I fucked up.” It’s the first thing he blurted when he comes your way, embracing you quickly. “We have to leave, they are coming for us. For our son.”

The drop of your heart is a feeling you constantly had after that day, but at that time, it was just a sample of the biggest pain you would ever feel. What Toji meant was a secret he told you in the beginning, when he was a dumb young man, recently widowed and with no ideia for how to care for a baby he did the unthinkable, although a part of him imagined he was doing what was right — he sold his son for the Zen’in, his old clan.

“They have a tracker, is a boy with the technique of tracking anything he wants. With our shared blood, he can catch us, but if we move away from Tokyo his power might not work.” Toji cautioned the options with you that night, while you both are sitting by the dinner table, your kids are sleeping in their shared bedroom. “We can go to Korea with the help of Shiu, but I fear it’ll still be too close.”

“Do we have money for this, Toji?” Is all you ask, knowing for a fact the answer won’t be positive. Toji stopped the hit man job after one year married, deciding to work as a mechanic in the small town you both moved to. He signs no with his head, and you feel like crying rivers.

“I can ask Shiu.” Toji whispers. “One last job, good payment, enough to leave it all behind.”

It’s like a dejavu feeling, you wished you had payed more attention to the uneasiness of that sentence, as a warning of life. You didn’t like his job, but you worked in the same bloodied industry not long ago, so you nod, scared and shaking. You don’t want him to taint his soul anymore, but it’s the only way to save your son.

You both go to sleep hugging each-other that night, and every other. All minimal spare moments are with family, cherishing what you have, giving him strength to fight again and for you to not crumble in front of everyone. But you desperately should’ve had, maybe he would’ve found another job, another way.

Is the day before he leaves, before you and the kids leave the house as well and move to an apartment complex in the city, that way Megumi’s smell wont be easily noticed, you both hope.

Toji’s face is kissed by the dining area light, his attention is on your son and his yapping about his dogs — the reason for the Zen’in clan to be coming your way. Megumi is on the tracks to become someone powerful, and they want to tear your boy down piece by piece, removing all the love and protection you gave to transform him into something more cold and brutal.

Toji’s eyes are glossy with the tears of guilt, of despair towards his younger self, so stupid, so young and unprepared. If he knew, if he had waited — the deal was done by the same time you’ve met Shiu. His head is spiraling with the many “ifs” and possibilities. Toji breaks down crying for the first time in his life, taking everyone by surprise.

“Papa.” Gumi’s infant voice is accompanied by your husband’s hiccups. “Papa, I love you so much, don’t cry.”

“I love you too, Megumi. I love all of you, with all of my heart. I’m sorry.” He confess the last towards you. Toji is desperate, feeling he ruined your whole lives, and maybe he did, but you don’t love him any less.

That night, your whole family is together in your bedroom, all sleeping in your large bed, unknown to all of you that would be the last time. Although you and Toji could feel in your hearts. He held you and the babies all on top of his large chest, hoping that he could move away in that moment, to take your pain and sorrows away.

You couldn’t find yourself the opening to cry in his presence. So you didn’t, you hold the tears behind you eyes and your hiccups in your throat as much as you could. In front of your new apartment, you kissed him goodbye with dry lips and he held you enough to bruise your waist, but it didn’t hurt.

“Please, come back for me.” You beg when you two separate, Shiu is in the background in the van, equally sad face. “Both of you. Come back home, and we will be fine. It’s just a small job.”

You don’t know, in fact, he didn’t told you. Toji just said the amount of money, and to not worry your pretty head. You trust him, dumbly. If you knew you would have stopped him.

“I’ll always love you. Thank you for this beautiful family, for making me a better man, for becoming my wife, the mother of our children. I love you in every life possible.” It was like he knew, and so he departs from your hug with a last long kiss and waved goodbye to the kids in the balcony, he goes for the van and stares at you, until he is gone.

He is gone.

“He is gone.” Is what Shiu whisper to you, weeks later, hands keeping your balance when you fall down on your knees. Your hands go straight to your belly, where the small baby bump is forming. “He got the money, so you can leave at any time now.”

You stare at Shiu as if he had grow two more heads.

“Y/n, you have to leave, angel. It’s what you were supposed to do, that’s the plan.”

“No! The plan was for him to come back and we move together. I can’t be without him, Shiu. I can’t.” You sob more and more on his shoulders, not noticing the two shadows in the children’s room, ears glued to the door, hearing it all.

When you finally go to your bed, sleeping with the scent of Toji’s pillow, you sense the bed dipping, opening your eyes you foolish hoped it was Toji, but you see someone identical, younger. Megumi, Tsumiki and you all cuddle in that bed, like that last night. You all cry silently, hoping individually for it all to be a terrible nightmare, and for when the day comes Toji be there, by the kitchen making pancakes with fruit smiles — what you met, in fact, is the person who killed your husband, Gojo Satoru.

You know everything about him and his technique that works as a protection barrier, but that doesn’t stop you from shooting him multiple times in the alley by your apartment — and he lets you, that angers you more. He is just a boy, you can see, but he killed Toji.

“Are you done?” The smoke coming from the gun touched your face when Satoru asks, a bit annoyed, a bit sad. “I’m here because your husband asked me to.”

“Stop lying!” You snap through gritted teeth.

“I’m not lying, please, let me tell you everything.” Satoru begs. You’re tired and sad, so you let him come inside, the gun although empty and useless, stays in your hand.

Gojo starts to explain the whole story while you serve him milk tea with honey, his hands are trembling as much as yours, you notice when he grabs the cup.

“Your husband got involved in the killing of a young girl, in the Jujutsu world, she was an important vessel, there was a large quantity of money for her head. My job was to protect her, but I failed. He finished his job, he almost killed me.” Gojo sips the tea before clenching his jaw, and adding more honey to it. “I went searching for him after healing myself, and…” He hesitated “… his last words was for me to help his family. I shouldn’t, but something tugged me here. So you might never forgive me, and I’m fine with that, but let me do what he asked, you don’t even have to see me, I’ll just give you money and protection.”

“He asked you to save our son from the Zen’in?” He nods. “I hate you, Gojo Satoru, for taking away my husband from me. But i accept your help, just don’t let them fuckers near my son.”

Gojo uplifted your life in a precisely and quickly way. First, he moved your family from that crappy apartment to one in a penthouse with full security, the kids were enrolled in a private school with a driver to always take them everywhere needed, specially Megumi. All was taken care for them, the price the Zen’in paid for your son, was given back by you, through the money your husband won before his death. That didn’t stoped them from trying to get your family, some ways more violent than others, but unlike Gojo, they weren’t bulletproof.

Soon, your name started to grow in the Jujutsu World. The wife of Toji, the human that kills sorceress. Everyone avoids your way and your aim, always hitting your target. That’s how you spend your time, after all. Deciding to take after your husband, but instead of killing innocents (something you don’t know you could ever forgive him, after learning Riko’s history), you track down what could be called the bad guys — sorceress that went bad, man who abuse their partners and children. Anyone who needs a cleanse, comes for you.

Gojo doesn’t aprove of it, but he neves dare to complain to you, he thinks you are strong enough to one day be capable of killing him. It’s in your eyes, the dread and hate you have for him. Your son and daughter don’t know this little secret of your job or what he did to their father, is a promise you both agreed on. Their memories aren’t stained by blood, and you may hate how much Tsumiki loves Gojo or Megumi fails to hides his adoration, but it is for the best.

Gojo saved you.

Ten years later, the world collapses, beginning in Shibuya. You weren’t a Jujutsu Sorcerer, through rectangle glasses gifted by Satoru you could see the curses, but that was not your line of job, never would’ve been. You were terribly anxious in your house, watching at the television, with Tsumiki and Fumiko, by your side. Your phone rings somewhere, your youngest daughter moves to get it before giving it to you.

“It’s Megs.” Fumiko muttered.

“Baby, talk to me.” You commanded to the phone, getting up from the table and moving to your car keys, already leaving the apartment. Your daughters coming behind, you knew they should stay, but they were stubborn, like their father. “Megumi?”

“Mom, Gojo… He is sealed.” Megumi cried on the phone, making your heart break more and more. “Please, I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t die, love. I’m coming already.” The car ignited your answer, you pass the phone to Tsumiki before you are racing the streets. You couldn’t tell earlier if it was luck or not to be living near Shibuya in that moment, but now you knew, you were exactly where you were meant to be. “Where are you, baby?”

“I’m hiding from this guy, I’m sending the location.” Is silent before he speaks again.” I… I can’t see his face, there is too much blood on my eyes.” You whimper at this. “Mom, there is no cursed energy in him, but he is so strong. He beat Nanami and a curse with volcano head and…”

“What? And what, Megs?” You panicked at his sudden silence, you are just some blocks away from his location.

“He’s here.” Then is silence.

The last time you prayed was years ago, the night you were told of the death of your husband. Your hands were tangled enough that no one could separate them, and your words of pleas and begs could shake any mountains out of earth. Today, though, you don’t have time to get on your knees and beg any deity for help. You only have the guns on your car, and your daughters by your side.

“You both stay here.” You ordered while parking the car in a dark alley. “If a curse or that man comes, Tsumiki you drive away, hear me?” The girl nods. “I love you both.”

You leave the car with fast steps towards the building, but before you can even enter, someone jumps from the windows in the building behind you, turning quick, you catch your son jumping in the roof of your car, before running your way.

“HE’S COMING.” Megumi screams, blood that falls from his head go inside his mouth, making him choke before falling in your arms. The man, you soon see, falls a second later. “Mom, please stay behind me.”

Your poor baby is weak, with his trembling figure, he has lost a lot of blood, you can’t let him fight alone — you didn’t came here for nothing, after all. You sigh, grabbing Megumi’s gaze, a sweet smile is all you give him.

“I’ll get his attention, you run to the car.” You can sense the protest coming, but a slight change in your eyes makes Megumi be quiet and nod.

The man, you stare at him, is creeping in the shadows of the buildings, moonlight only on his back, hiding his face away from you. That’s not what matter, but the fact he is casually leaning on your car, where your daughters are, that pisses you off. He knows they are there, he is taunting you to try anything, like a predador — he can either bite your neck off, or your pups. And you can’t shoot him either, afraid that you might hurt Tsumiki or Fumiko.

With hands empty of guns, you walk, because you know that’s what he wants, the thrill of coming your way. Your son is far away when the man moves. Is a second, and he is in front of you, his hands reaching for a punch in your abdomen before his full black eyes catch yours, a second later, turning dark blue. He doesn’t punch you, but Toji takes your breath away.

Toji. It’s been some time since you said his name, even in your mind. The man is always there, much like your wedding ring is always on your finger, but you don’t say his name for the fear it might burn in your heart or tongue. You wonder if this is all real, is it’s really him, but your questions receive their answers when he moves back, hands never touching you.

There is confusion in his face, at the same time, you catch pain in it — a perfect mirror of your own expression, you could say. This time, you move towards him quicker, before jumping to his arms, and the way he holds you back tells you everything you need to know, that your husband is here, by some miracle or prayed answered, Toji exists in this moment.

The tears are falling from your face in the same chaotic way they did the day you found he was dead, but this time a small smile is present. Toji puts you down, but his hug only deepens.

“You’re here.” You cried in his arms before leaving it for an instant, raising your hands to hold his pretty face, although numb in his eyes, he was smiling through his own tears. “You’re not- - not exactly you, huh.”

“No, baby. I’m not.” His hoarse voice has your legs shaking. Gods, you missed him so much, but you were so happy that it was just like you remembered, ten years would never make you forget him. “I’m sorry I took so long to come back, that I couldn’t keep my promise.”

“It’s okay, my love. You are here again.” It’s instant, and you’re kissing him, much like the last time, your dry lips are mesmerized by him, and your brain gets foggy by his presence, his scent.

“MOM?!” A shout comes from behind Toji, making you both separate. Megumi is by your car, your daughters out of the vehicle, all with shocked expressions that make you quietly giggle.

“Is it them?” Toji catch’s you attention, he hasn’t turned around yet, you nod and he gulps. “I - - I didn’t knew it was him, I would never hurt him.”

“I know.” You grab his hand, making him follow you to your children. When his face gets light up by the moon, you don’t move more before Megumi and Tsumiki are jumping in his arms, loud hiccups escaping their throats, while the trio melts into hugs. You stare fondly at the scene before feeling a pull on your jacket, and grabbing the little hand you walk closer. “Love, there is someone you should meet.” Your oldests step back, allowing Fumiko to be presented. “You didn’t know back then, but this is Fumiko, our daughter.”

Toji descends to his knee gracefully, more tears coming from his eyes. The man open his arms, and Fumiko stares at you, wondering, before you even finish your nod, she is already on his embrace, Toji kisses her forehead, moving up and allowing once again for his other children to hug him.

“I’m so sorry I missed all of you growing up. I was trying to keep you all safe, and I’m happy you are now.” Toji wailed, staring at them before at you, in front of him, kissing his lips once again.

“We are fine, my love. There is no Zen’in, the Gojo boy helped us.” He nods at you, before staring at his family. How things should be.

You sense your heartbreaking like that day of the mission, when the gears of destiny started to move against your favor, and you know in that moment, he can’t be here forever — his soul is not present anymore, it’s only a gift of life to repair all the pain it has given you. Toji hears your hiccups, and he nods in understand. Ten years away, and he still knows you better than anyone.

Putting Fumiko down, he kisses the children foreheads, before a hug with all of you.

“I want you all to know, I’m proud of you. No matter what you do, your father loves you endless. This family is my heaven, and I’m happy to have this chance of goodbye.”

“Go to the car, I’ll be right back, okay?” The kids nod at you, individually hugging their dad one more time before going inside the vehicle.

You and your husband move towards the building, the door closes, and soon he has you cornered, attacking your lips with a much needed kiss than before. You answer fast, letting his hands roam your body, much like yours — you missed all of him terribly, and this was your hope of engraving Toji in your dna, for those future nights, yet alone.

Toji takes you there, against that door, like a madman, you let him because you wanted it as much as him. How badly had you missed being touched by your husband, no pain in the world could compare to the emptiness of having all this love to give, and nowhere to empty it. But you did it now, showering him with the ten years of hidden affection. He devoured your attention.

It’s much later when you both are dressed again, none of you want to knowledge the miserable truth that he has to go. You catch his shaking hands and sweat in his head, it’s a sign he can’t be in here anymore.

“I’ve never stopped loving you,” You whispered into his empty chest, no beating heart matching your frantic one, “Nor do I think I’ll ever do so.”

“Good.” Toji exclaimed. “Really good, ‘cause I plan on seeing you in the afterlife, and I’m not letting you go anywhere ever again.” He leave kisses on your head before sighing.

“You really have to go?” Is a silent cry in a question. You stare up at his blue eyes, empty of brightness and yet full of love. “We could find a way to make you stay.”

“There isn’t, doll. This is all we have, and it was so worthy. Seeing you again, so pretty, so mine, our babies all grown as well.” Toji lick his lips. “I wish we had another chance, but as I said before, on our last day, I love you in every possible life.”

“I love you as well, in this life, in the next as well. We will see each other again.” He nods at your words. “We are safe, no need to worry, just take your alone time in the afterlife, because as soon as I get there, you are all mine.”

“I can’t wait.” Toji kisses you one more time, before hugging you tight and moving away slowly, walking backwards so his attention is all on you. “Promise me you won’t be going there too soon, like I did. Be here for our babies, okay? I’ll always be waiting.”

“I promise, my love.”

Toji grabs a metal pipe from a nearby table, and you know what he is going to do. He waved at you goodbye before going more deeper in the room, to the shadows away from you. The sound of skin ripping makes your cries louder, and you catch yourself following him, trying to make it stop — just one more minute, one more kiss.

You reach the body, and it’s not him. Although, a breeze whispers into your skin, like soft kisses to your tears, you smile through the pain. He is gone, but he was here, his love is all over you. He is gone, but he is waiting for you somewhere, loving you endlessly, through time and space and the afterlife, forever.

[pitchsidestories]

Promise me II Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze

masterlist I word count: 1274

a/n: hi, this was inspired by the current transfer rumours, we hope that you still like it despite the topic.

Lucy was on the phone with her agent while Ona was napping in her lap on their sofa. They had a tough training session in the morning and untypical for Barcelona it has been raining the whole time, one could hear the rain drops falling against the windows.

This sound has been a constant background noise for the entirety of this afternoon. The weather seemed to know which news were about to break into this peacefulness.

“But..”

 “I’m sorry, Lucy. They don’t plan to extent. Not with Alexia staying.”, he apologized with such sincerity that it hurts the English woman even more when he said it the first time a couple of seconds ago.

“Two old players are too expensive, right?”, she hissed.

 “That’s what you said.”, the man responded cooly.  

“Yes, because that’s what everyone is thinking!”, Lucy answered enraged. The player’s body turned tense. Even in her sleep her girlfriend noticed that change, struggling to find the comfortable position she was in before.

“It basically is.”, he admitted.  

“Fuck.”, Lucy cursed under her breath.

“Luce?”, Ona stirred up from her sleep.

“Sorry, love.”, the older defender bit her lip guiltily.

“What’s wrong?”, the Spanish woman asked big eyed, sounding deeply concerned.  

“Keep sleeping.”, Lucy tried to reassure her, pressing a kiss to the forehead of her girlfriend.

“But you said fuck.”, Ona gave her a mildly amused look.

“Yes, because they won’t extend my contract.”, the English defender explained, sadly.  

 “What?!”, the younger woman exclaimed furiously.

“I don’t have the Alexia bonus.”, Lucy added.

“We’ll find a solution, I’m sure.”, Ona shook her head stubbornly.

“Sorry, little one.”, the older player whispered unhappy.

“No, you can’t leave.”, she stated firmly and stood up from her sofa.

“Ona where are you going?”, Lucy raised an eyebrow. The Spanish woman mouthed an apology before she went to get her sneakers and left to meet someone who might help them.

Meanwhile Lucys mood was almost as bad as the weather outside, but Ona’s optimistic smile chased her sad thoughts away when she returned to their shared home.

“I talked to Alexia. I think she can help.”

“Oh, Ona. I’m not sure about that, but I appreciate your effort.”, the older woman was in awe of her girlfriend’s unshaken optimism.

“Of course, it’ll work.”, the younger defender replied confidently.

“We’ll see, okay?”, Lucy responded.

“Okay. Just promise to not go too far away. “, Ona nodded, although letting her girlfriend gave her a comforting hug.

“I promise it won’t be the USA.”, the older player joked.

“I was hoping you’d say that you stay in Spain. But that’s something.”, the younger woman remarked, the sadness was still lingering in between them, but that silly reply of the English defender made her smile again.

“I’ll tell my manager that I won’t take any clubs that are too far away from you.“, Lucy half-joked.

Ona bit back a small smile: “Thanks.“

“You’re welcome.“

“That calms me a bit.“, Ona admitted, unsure if she felt better because of Lucys words or the lightheartedness she brought back into this conversation.

Lucy smirked: “Anything else I can do for you?“

“Hug!“, Ona yelled and immediately bridged the gap between the two football players to jump into Lucys arms. The English defender had to react quick to catch her and not lose her balance.

Laughing, she looked her girlfriend that clung tightly to her body: “Better?“

“Yes.“

“Agreed.“, Lucy grinned.

“Thanks, Luce.“, Ona said, relaxing into her girlfriends embrace.

Carefully, Lucy set the Spanish football player down and asked: “What do you want for dinner?“

“Something Portuguese.“,Ona ordered in hopes that Lucy would treat her with one of her delicious family recipes.

The older defender just gave her a nod of approval: “Alright.“

“Thanks.“

“No worries. Sit down, I’ll start cooking.“

Lucy disappeared into the kitchen, Ona following close behind her. The Spaniard sat down at the kitchen table and watched attentively as her girlfriend started to cut some vegetables.

“You don’t need any help?“, Ona asked.

“No, thanks.“

She shrugged: “Fine, I’ll watch then.“

“Good.“ Lucy continued to focus on the food. Ona, however, chose to focus on Lucys backside while she was busy.

“Nice view though.“, she remarked, her head propped up on one hand.

“Oh, yeah. I was pretty proud, the market still had this amazing fish.“, Lucy continued to talk about her cooking, completely ignoring what Ona had meant.

The younger defender smiled to herself, Lucy always was in her own world when she started to cook. So she decided to let work in peace.

Only as the ingredients started to simmer and fill the kitchen with a mouth-watering smell, Ona sniffed once: “This smells so good.“

“It’ll taste even better.“, Lucy promised her.

“Can’t wait.“

“It’s almost ready.“

Ona took this as her cue to jump up and set the table in the meantime. “I’ll get the wine.“

“Perfect.“

Lucy placed the pan on the table while Ona filled their glasses. “Here, we go.“

“Cheers.“, Lucy lifted her glass to clink it to her girlfriends.

“Cheers.“, she echoed.

Both of them took a sip of their wine before Lucy started plating the fish. For the time they sat there in the kitchen, having dinner, the conversation they had earlier seemed far away.

“Don’t be sad.”, the English woman stated after noticing that her girlfriend had stared absent minded at the wall.

“I’m not. I would just miss this.”, Ona quickly replied in a sincere tone.

“Me too.”, Lucy admitted seriously.

“Even though I do ask myself, who’s going to cook for me if you’ve to leave.”, the younger player only half joked.

“Maybe Olga?”, the older defender suggested smiling mildly.

“No. I don’t want to be third wheeling. It’s going to be alright, because I can cook.”, Ona reassured her girlfriend. She recognized the sceptical risen eyebrow by the woman sitting in front of her. That was why the Spanish player added:” I’ll survive.”

“I hope so because I’ll leave my heart here.”, Lucy told her earnestly. Hearing her saying this out loud made Ona’s heart sink.

“Oh, Luce.”, she muttered.

Immediately the English defender’s hands went up.

“Don’t say anything more, that was embarrassing.”

“It was the cutest.”, the younger woman responded, giving the older one a kiss to her temple. With a cheeky grin she continued:” I’ll get that tattooed.”

“No, it doesn’t go with the rest of your pretty tattoos.”, Lucy protested, while pulling the smaller player onto her lap.

“But it means a lot to me.”, she confessed, looking into the green eyes of the woman she loved and hoped her glance would transfer her feelings which run as deep as the tattoos on her skin.

“Ona, I love you.”, the English defender muttered in a raspy voice.

“I love you too.”, she said, while her girlfriend started to kiss the many freckles on her face to highlight what she was saying only a couple of seconds earlier.

“No, matter what happens.”, Lucy remarked in between the kisses.

Under the touches of the older woman Ona felt something like hope fluttering in her chest.

“We’ll make it work somehow.”, the Spanish player answered optimistically.

“Yes, we did it before too.”, the taller defender reminded her.

“Exactly.”

“Let’s enjoy this while it lasts.”, Lucy murmured.

“Hopefully longer than until summer.”, the smaller woman whispered into the ear of the older player while holding on to her like Lucy personified the little hope that was left of her staying and hopefulness always dies last.

There was the reassuring feeling that no matter what happened over the next months that they were going to be alright.

pictures are from pinterest.

[jozlyn-moon]

The Cipher Twins

Ford’s Journal Entry:

(It’s long! And one of the first Journal Entries I’ve gone fully into making!)

“How and Why that devil managed to “conceive”, and I use this term loosely, is beyond me. Especially when it’s taken in mind how careful with planning he chooses to be. But the outcome of two children that share such gains of his power is.. well- reckless, but that does give us a view that he isn’t as on his game as much as he once was, which in my eyes shows as a beacon of hope. Continuing though-

These two have been an eye opening pain in the ass to deal with in all the years that they’ve had to be in my life… and that’s saying quite a bit. From the oddities that sprout from their father’s genes to the oddities that come from each of their unique personalities that stem from their own special quirks, to study them has been an experience. Though, if I shouldn’t lie.. I may have chosen a favorite of the two for one reason or another and even if either manages to get a hand on my writing their opinion would not much matter in the end.

To begin on the first, Lily Cipher, a rambunctious but albeit pleasant kid to be around. An attribute which I could only give thanks to in the mother’s raising of both of the twins which I presumed had fortunately been enough to quell any evil nature that may have been held in her soul. Along with the fact that there had been no contact with the father in her and her sibling’s upbringing. Ignoring that fact- She can be described as a great help around the lab, seeing as age and stress have worn down my ability to keep steady with my motor and cognitive skills… she comes in handy as a shockingly fast learner, but to no surprise really as much as I don’t want to point the praise at where the origin of the ability may have come from, I do have my guesses to who it was passed down from.

She is a very curious and hyperactive child as well, being quite fascinated in the little things and anything that moves, she could only remind me of Mabel in her younger years in the most bitter sweet way possible. I pray for the moment that she’s alright.. but besides that point-

I find that she’s been a large help in also understanding, if not, being able to decrypt the genetics of my enemy, with her ability to shape shift into a form similar to the beings of Bill’s late home dimension, flatlanders as they’re called, she has given key samples of skin and DNA that have properties no normal being can handle nor have. I believe she and her brother are direct keys in Bill’s downfall. And while I wish to be optimistic to the outcomes of their existence at the current time, I do hold dread for whats to come. As while I may have positive outcomes with the more sweet hearted sibling… I have trouble describing the short tempered and snide one as such. Liam is another whole pile of bones to dissect but i’ll get to his summary soon enough.

Lily, and what baffles me the most about her, is how something so, well giddy and sweet by nature, can come out of such a creature that can be so, by choice, dangerously and maliciously evil. But then again, that damn triangle had always had his charms at his hand, so it wouldn’t be a complete surprise if that had passed along to his spawn.

And as much as I want to be paranoid of my enemy’s daughter, seeing first hand her grow up with no influence of her father’s morals and presence due to her mother separating from that devil before either of the twins were born- it lets me ponder on the thought of the nature vs nurture theory and how whether or not natures of the parents pass down to the kin and how much it actual effects their psyche.

Albeit with Lily, she works on her own will with a good moral stand point and natural urge to uplift others in sometimes slightly odd but endearing ways. Though i’m afraid that it’s her brother that leaves me still questioning the nature vs. nurture stand point, as I couldn’t say the same completely for her twin.

Liam Cipher, a more reserved kid but leaning on socially aloof by choice, is one who leaves me sleeping with one eye open. Literally. Seemingly gained the temper of his father along with a slew of other worrying traits that I would rather not be in the presence of while someone has lit his fuse. He is the sole reason why I had to ban or at the least limit the use of both of their magic to the mundane and simple party tricks after an incident with him that cost me half my sight with a fit he threw when he was younger.

Though as his mother insists to me greatly, it’s not the child’s fault for the traits he was born with, he can’t help himself she claims. And while true to some extents I can’t help but feel the dread towards the thought of another Bill like being sprouting due to the “freak accident” of them being somehow made into existence. From the personality to even the damn voice that the kid shares with himself and his devil of a father, I can’t just shake off the feeling of a tense shiver that always crawls up my back when thinking of him growing older.

The only saving grace, and what calms my already paranoid nerves falls upon the ones I could think have a good hand in quelling those unsavory traits, the one’s I label the family buffers. I.e his mother, sister, and at times the cousins that are there to talk him down out of a potential blow out. I couldn’t even dare muster the thoughts to wonder what he’d turn to if his mother nor his “siblings”, if I could even loosely consider the cousins as such, weren’t there to quell his snappy nature. But for the sake of my cortisol levels, I can’t let those scenarios overcome my already racing thoughts because I have enough to deal with now in taking care of both of the twins that have been enough of a hassle on my growing age.

Liam for the most part has made it clear that he has a distaste for me, I believe sprouting from my coldness towards his mother for being deceptive at the beginning of our begrudging guardianship over the kids. And he places it as if I have no good reason, if it wasn’t clear that I have some bother that hiding the children of that damned demon under my nose with what current family I have left wasn’t something to not be chastised for. Not to mention that her withholding from the implicit truth had allowed me and my great great niece and nephew to harbor an attachment to the twins which if I had known before hand their origin… would not have ended well for her.

But I am not heartless, I do understand the fears that may have accompanied the weight of telling the truth at the time. And I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t be one to not swallow my pride and say I know I would have probably acted rashly. But as someone who freshly lost what family they had left at the time I feel as if it would’ve been just.

I don’t hate either of them, even while one may be more a pain in the ass than the other. I do believe I care for them in some sense. Liam is a help to me greatly, I won’t downplay that factor at all, he’s the one that helps me draw in the newer journal entries and goes out to scout with Chloe to do some cartography of the surrounding landscape. A quirk he seems to be great at with a sense of great direction and keen eyesight, something even younger me couldn’t get down right away. My body can only do so much these days as I’ve already made my point earlier that my hands and even now legs can’t do what they did often like they used to.

He’s smart, more smart than he gives himself props for, he knows how to channel a certain charisma and silver tongue that lets him find the best supplies, of course if it isn’t the case that he had stole them in the first place. And like his sister, there is no second thought to where he got that ability from, but it’s better to not dwell on it, just for my sake at least.

Both are a handful in their own ways, but they have grown on me- and they do hold insight in how we may be able to stop weirdmaggedon once and for all.

And I pray that it can be in time.”

(If you made it down here thanks for reading it! I want to make sure I have Ford’s characterization down to some extent 😭 My grammar may not be all that great but I tried lol)

[nix-that-rad-lass]

Legit it just keeps going downhill lol

Idk how I’ve made it the like seven years of owning a phone I have without shattering a screen until now but I did it