#maybe its the way she writes long sentences with lots of connectives instead of breaking them up with punctuation

[homo-house]

I swear every time I open this book thinking "yeah I'll just find that one paragraph to get the quote right" and every time I spend 1-2 hours rereading and making myself miserable

[writing-in-april]

My Date with the President’s Daughter

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer has a date with the President’s daughter, who he’s been dating for a while in partial secret. He hasn’t seen her in person for a while so he’s had to settle for another form of communication.

A/N: Ok just to get this out of the way— this is not a politically charged fic, I don’t express my own political beliefs in this fic nor do I express my opinion on the beliefs of others. The president in this fic is entirely made up and I just thought it would be cool to release it on Inauguration Day like the nerd I am. I do not want a political debate in the comments, this blog is not meant for that. This fic is for fun and to make people a little happier in these trying times. Please respect my wishes. This was a really fun way to write a twist on Spencer dating someone famous and- I wonder if anyone can spot the West Wing reference I used 🤔Thanks to @spencers-dria again for always helping me out with my fics 🥰This is also apart of my unlinked fic series called Spencer Reid & Letters! Requests are open and thank you for reading!

Warning: Vague political talk, References to keeping their relationship secret earlier, Avoiding the paparazzi- that should be it.

Main Masterlist Spencer Reid & Letters Word count: 1.6k

She didn’t have to put her short little letter to me on the back of a postcard, but she always did it this way. I remember when she first told me why she did it. We were sitting cuddled up on my couch at the early start of our relationship. I had asked her why she always insisted she send her letters on the back of a tiny card, she would’ve had so much more room if she got out a piece of paper.

She said she got into the habit of sending them to her father whenever he was away on business. Her handwriting had been horrible as a child according to her and her father had suggested she try to fit all of her thoughts onto a postcard. So, now she sent all of her letters neatly handwritten with the smallest of letters, so small you could almost barely read them, on the back of a postcard.

The postcard I had gotten late today, delivered by one of the last people on duty this late at night, was a picturesque view of the White House. The grass bright green and the outside covered in pure crisp white, a statuesque image of American democracy. Now, she didn’t send this to me because she wanted to express her political views and patriotism in a postcard, it just so happened to be where her father lived.

The fact that she was the President’s daughter used to intimidate me a lot when I first met her. I hadn’t immediately connected the dots in my head that she was the first daughter when we first met, though I could tell I had seen her somewhere before. Though, my first assumption was that maybe she had been a regular at my favorite coffee shop, not the daughter to the President of the United States. Literally my biggest boss.

First time I met him was also my first time in the east wing; she had some help from her secret service detail to sneak me in through the back. I only ever nervously stutter when I’m in intimidating or stressful situations and I’m pretty sure I barely got a sentence out the first ten minutes after I had met him. Luckily, he did seem to like me, though I’m not really sure why. Y/N told me once it was because he found my intelligence extraordinary and my constant willingness to share facts endearing. I always blush when I remember that, she was always so sweet to me and the fact that her family loved me as well caused my heart to swell exponentially. I stared at the captured view for a few seconds longer before the dots had fully connected in my head, I may have an eidetic memory, but sometimes it took me a minute to get her subtle hints. She didn’t actually live at the White House, she had her own house in D.C. But, this postcard meant one thing. She’s home.

Each postcard she sent me had a picture of wherever she was while she was traveling the world, it was a small gesture that made me feel closer to her, I always tried to imagine I was there with her at every location she sent. She had been out of the country for at least a month on business and even before that we hadn’t seen each other for a while, I had been stuck on a long case that kept me away from her for half a month.

A month and a half, that’s how long it's been since I’ve had her in my arms. I turned over the card expecting to see it filled with more words than most people would think could fit on the back of a postcard to let me know when I could see her, but this was not the case. Instead, the back of the card contained less words than normal. Only the words- meet me at 10pm at our usual spot.

My body moved faster than my brain, getting up to pack up all my things to rush to our usual spot. My watch sat over my cardigan sleeve on my wrist and it blinked up at me letting me know I only had 30 minutes till I had to get to the other side of town.I still had some paperwork left, but enough that I could push it off till the next day. Once I had gotten all my stuff together I scurried over to leave through the glass doors.

“Are you heading home, Spence?” A voice from inside the bullpen called out startling me out of my thoughts, I had thought everyone had left for the night. I turned around to look at the owner of the voice, JJ, who had come back from the break room to finish her large stack of paperwork that still remained.

“Actually no- I have a date.” A small shy smile made its way onto my face, I still felt very shy when I talked about my relationship with the team. When I had first told them after around 8 months into our relationship, they had thought I was pulling their legs. Once they did realize that I was in fact, not bullshitting them as Morgan had suspected, the questions had immediately come down on me. The ogling at my relationship never really ceased in the months after it had come out to the team, and the rest of the world. We mostly still tried to keep it under wraps, but the fact that the press now knew about me after some photos got leaked from a date only made the team ogle even more.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to who you go on dates with, it’s like something out of a movie.” JJ joked, then yawning again and leaning her face into her palms. “Well- I still have a lot of paperwork to do, you go enjoy your night, Spencer. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.”

My mind had already begun to shift away from JJ as soon as she brought her up, I was practically vibrating in anticipation, I couldn’t wait to see her.

—-

The rare book store on the east side of Quantico had been my favorite for years, ever since I had moved out here from Vegas actually. So much so that the owners, an older couple named Margaret and Dan, both knew me by name and knew almost exactly what books I wanted every time. The both of them had immediately jumped at the chance when I had hesitantly asked them to let the both of us meet up here, I had been desperately trying to find a place outside of my apartment where we could meet up.

When I entered the shop through the back it was already deserted just for us, she must have contacted Maggie and Dan to ask them if we could have the store for the night. The store was packed full of the rare books the owners had both acquired over the years, ranging from old tales and poems written by Edgar Allan Poe, the dark brother’s Grimm tales, to almost any old book that you could think of. It was almost to the point where I thought maybe Maggie and Dan should upgrade to a bigger shop.

“Long time no see.” A voice piped up from the mostly dark corner where she sat in a dark green armchair only partially illuminated by a standing lamp. Broad grins broke out on both of our faces before we both ran to each other, engulfing ourselves into an overwhelming bear hug.

“I missed you so much you don't even know.” Tears prickled at the edge of my eyes, though I wasn’t afraid to admit that us being apart for so long made me tear up.

“I've got a pretty good idea, I missed you so much as well.” She sniffed and then sighed into the crook of my neck. I moved my hand up to cradle her head to try and bring her as close as possible to me, even though there was already not even an inch of space between the two of us.

A nagging thought was dancing around in my brain, the card was so short and abrupt. It wasn’t like her to not be long winded whenever she wrote to me, she even had a tendency to be worse than I was sometimes.

“Why was the card so short? You feeling ok?”

“I just couldn’t wait to see you… It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...” Her tone of voice made me sad, it had been so lonely for me as well when we were apart.  “I never want to be away from you for that long ever again.”

“Move in with me.” The words blurted out of my mouth before I could really think about my words. I didn’t care whether it would be feasible or not, I just knew I never wanted us to be apart for so long ever again.

“Well-“ I cringed a little at her words sensing a rejection, I worried that I had just screwed it all up by asking. However, again she surprised me, “We might need to get a new place to settle my father’s worries about security.”

I breathed out a breathy laugh of relief at her words, enveloping her into a bruising kiss, my worry and anxiety immediately melting away. I couldn’t wait for the next chapter of my life with the President’s daughter.

—-

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Spencer Reid & Letters Series:

@sierraraeck @90spumkin @whoreforthebau

[winter-fox-queen]

We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings:  Here be smut, my loves.  Minors be gone, because it is explicit.  First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person.  I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77​ and @hnt-escape​  If you want on my tag list, tell me.  :)

I waited a week.  A week and a half.  And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book.  I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply.  You got this.

Hope?  Maybe?  Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.  

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight?  Have dinner?  A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up.  You don’t owe me any explanations.  But please respect me enough not to ghost me.  You’re not interested in me, that’s fine.  But don’t leave me dangling.  You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right.  What’s your address?

“Shit.  Shit.  What have I done?”  I whispered as I typed it to him.  

About five away.  K?

Yeah.  Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up.  Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard.  I waved at him, half heartedly.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.”  He gave me a soft smile.  Everything about him was guarded.  OK.  Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No.  I, uh.”  He looked at the ground between our feet.  It was more dirt than grass.  “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”  

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways.  “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.”  He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him.  “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time.  And I mean that.  But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to.  I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded.  “No.  I’m talking about…less than a year ago.  Some friends and I went on a mission.  We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…”  He’s breathing a little heavier, now.  Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.  

“People died.”  He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt.  “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed.  If I hadn’t taken that shot.  If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”  

He steps forward and takes my hands in his.  They’re clammy, shaking.  “The mail you saw, it was a reminder.  My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy.  And she’s right.”  

I try to find words.  I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.  

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.”  He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away.  “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me.  His lips are hot.  When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?”  His voice is incredulous.  There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out.  Why would you want me?

I shook my head.  “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off?  Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best.  You see that, right?”  There’s a desperate edge.  

I shake my head.  Everything that can possibly hurt does.  I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.  

He adjusts his hat.  “No, you don’t.  I love your books, but they are fairy tales.  You can’t make a good man out of a monster.  It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”  

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation.  It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go.  How I know I can’t fix this.  “Don’t bother blocking my number.”  I say, as I turn on my heel.  “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around.  But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number.  I can’t.  I focus on work.  My job that lets me eat work.  My book.   My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again.  It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous.  I didn’t even know him that long,  but the loss of him hurt.  It made the story feel pointless.  What right did I have to sell these lies?  To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working.  I’d get over it.  I had to.  It’s not like I’d built anything with him.  I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about.  The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues.  And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy.  He was in the home security section.  

I could sneak by.  He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his.  I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled.  I was able to save the most expensive bit — the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot.  Spun like a top.  Settled right against his toe.  I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes.  His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.  

“Hey.”  I said, and then, because I didn’t  know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came.  I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey.  Wait a second.”  

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas.  “Um…your faucet break?”  And then he winced.  “I mean, obviously.  Um.”  He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately.  He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old.  I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.”  I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it.  I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.”  His dark eyes study my face.  Sad.  A little desperate.  For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No.  I got it.”  I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number?  If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container.  “Go back to your project, Frankie.  I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence.  I certainly used every one I could.  

Two hours later, I get a text.  

Frankie:  How did it go?  

I want to sob.  Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me:  I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink.  Who needs a sink in the kitchen?  A total waste.  

Frankie:  The offer is still open?

Me:  How did you know?  Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie:  No.  I don’t think that at all.

Frankie:  Let me help?  Please?

Me:  Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.  

Frankie:  OMW.  

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza.  It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink.  “You did a good job.  I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK.  I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight.  I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?”  I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly.  Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly.  “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.”  He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink.  He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair.  He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.  

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza.  I don’t know what to say.  

“It’s a nice apartment.”  He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job.  It works.”  I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else.  I knew this would be bad.  Here he is, sitting a few  inches away.  I could touch him, but I’m not allowed.  It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it.  To feel his fingers wrap around mine.  To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?”  I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head.  Wads up his napkin.  Puts his plate in the sink.  Locates the trash.  Such a good guest.  

“I shouldn’t have come.  But I wanted to see you.”  He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.  

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile.  “You would have been ok.”  

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box.  Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me?  I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to.  Where do you keep these?”  I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.  

“But why?  Why were you happy to help?  Why did you want to see me?  You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out.  “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently.  “Hush.”  I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.  

“You asked me a question, awhile back.”  I muzzle his hand.  “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”  

“You asked me if I wanted you.  And I do.  Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me.  “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing.  “I miss you when I wake up.  I miss you when I lay down to sleep.  I miss you when I’m driving.”  And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth.  “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back.  I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why?  Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again.  I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again.  That’s cruel.  I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.  

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine.  Just push it aside until you trust me.  Or until it matters.  I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done.  I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.”  I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop.  He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on.  His fingers ghost over my hips.  Grip them gently.  Pulls me between his thighs.  Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close.  His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting.  Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man.  I want to tell him.  But I wait.  I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

 “I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes.  And he leans close, and he kisses me again.  The last kisses were loving.  This kiss is passionate.  Deep. So full of longing I could cry.  I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside.  I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor.  The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment.  “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him.  “Show me the way.”  

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle.  I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was.  I could still say no.  I could slow things down, I could be sensible.  

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him.  Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me.  “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom.  Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in.  His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt.  I pull back and tug at his shirt.  “Off.”  I command, and he grins and sheds it.   My shirt and my bra join it on the floor.  I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest.  I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again.  His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands.  I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck.  He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak.  His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place.  Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him.  He lets me go and pushes me gently.  I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?”  He asks, one knee on the bed.  “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head.  “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile.  He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me.  He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me.  He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me.  It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me.  “So wet.”  He whispers, kissing my temple.  “So soft.”  He kisses the tip of my nose.  “So hot.”  And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure.  “I want to taste you, sweetheart.  I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod.  I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise?  He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit.  He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me.  He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth.  As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself.  His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot.  The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.  

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.  

He comes up to kneel between by thighs.  His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.  

“Are you sure?  Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you.  Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh.  He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper.  He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting.  I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful.  Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine.  I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.  

“Oh, fuck.”   He whispered.  “You feel so good.  So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me.  “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear.    “You feel like heaven.  Please…fuck me, honey.  Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up.  With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home.  I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.  

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”  

“Don’t think.  Just let me take care of you.  It’s all I want to do…”  He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss.  “Just let go.”

And I do.  I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last.  He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful.  I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release.  I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me.  I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer.  He tried to shift off, but I cling to him.  I welcome his weight.  His strength.  

I don’t want to let go.  I never want to let him go.

[adorethedistance]

Something to Lose - Luke Patterson X Covington!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: luke imagine idea so Luke’s old gf is dead and she’s calebs daughter and is trying to get him to stay with her instead of cross over and then he doenst show up in stand tall . I just had this idea and near had a fit trying to get it down love ur writing also 💖

Warnings: angst, a lot of crying, I don’t even think there’s swearing in this one.

Words: 2293

A/n: I hope I did the request justice. This was kinda stressful the entire time writing it just bc of all the ideas that came. Like I’d be writing and then my brain would be like ‘hey what if this happened’ and then I’m like ‘oh that’s evil. put it in the fic.’ you know?

I begin nervously playing with the tulle skirt of my above-the-knee length party dress. I wanted a mini but dad refused to let me be visible to ghosts and lifers in anything ‘revealing’, so we compromised on above the knee. It’s a pretty dress, the black long sleeves are sheer and the back is completely open, and that’s as scandalous as dad would allow. Ironic considering his dancers’ costumes are cut out fringe leotards and nude tights.

And speaking of dancers,

“Who was that?” I ask Francesca as she comes to stand next to me by the black music stands, branded with the infamous Hollywood Ghost Club logo.

“Who was who?”She takes a tiny sip of water and readjusts her massive blue and purple feather headdress. Dad always chooses the most extravagant costumes. Sometimes I wonder how they’re able to dance without falling over from being so… top heavy I guess?

“That guy you were dancing in front of in the denim coat?”

“What are you talking about? I was dancing in front of Willie.”

“Nice try, I know that was Angie. Maybe next time.” On the first day the girls set foot in the place they were such amazing dancers, dad invited them to perform front and center if they wanted to join the club. The downside was he could never tell them apart. I don’t know how though, they’re not indiscernibly identical. I made it my goal to always be able to tell them apart, and they made it their goal to get me to mix them up just once.

“We’re gonna get you one of these days.”

“Yeah, sure. But, uh, do you know who he is?”

“I don’t but maybe you will?”

“What?” Glancing up to Fran’s face she gives me a look and directs me with her eyes before smiling smugly and walking away. I follow her gaze to see my dad standing on the far side of their table, talking with the attractive stranger. His excitement makes his every movement animated and he can’t even seem to string a coherent sentence. Inviting them to sit down, dad starts saying something about Willie and magic? The conversation doesn’t last long and once he leaves, I debate whether or not to approach the handsome stranger.

“Who are we looking at?” I’m startled when I hear Angie’s voice in my right ear.

“Oh. The one at the front table in the denim overcoat.”

“You mean the one Franny was dancing in front of?”

“She already tried that.”

“Dammit!” I laugh at yet another failed attempt.

“I don’t even know why you guys bother anymore.”

“Whatever. Why are we staring at him?”

“I’m debating whether or not I should talk to him.” Angie sends me a look that says ‘have more faith in yourself’ which I gleefully ignore.

“Shoot your shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“My dad could interrupt and say something totally embarrassing. He wasn’t done talking to them, he just had to do rounds.”

“Girl, have you seen how many people are here tonight? He’s not gonna be done any time soon, so go while you still have some time!” Angie punctuates her sentence by gently pushing me forward, and I stumble in the direction of the cute stranger. The sudden jerky movement seems to catch his attention and his eyes soften once they meet mine. He smiles softly as a greeting and when I return the look, he takes that as an invitation to walk my way. I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen partially out of fear and partly out of curiosity.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” denim extends his hand politely and… extremely flusteredly? He sounds breathless and a touch fearful. I’m used to the energy as the club intimidates first-timers. I take his hand,

“Y/n.” Omitting my last name tends to do me a lot of good.

“Wow. That’s really pretty,”

“It’s nothing special.”

“You’re really pretty.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“So, uh-“ he trails off in search of a conversation starter, “What brings you to the Hollywood Ghost Club?”

“Oh, you know... just uhm- just a night out.”

“Do you come to the Club a lot?”

“You could say that. It’s pretty much a second home.”

“Y/n, darling. There you are!” Luke watches my face drop from its pleasant ‘chatting with guests’ expression, to a relaxed almost-frown.

“Here I am.”

“And I see you’ve met Luke.”

“Yes sir.”

“I trust my daughter is keeping you in good company?”

“Your daughter?” Luke nearly chokes on the mystical air of the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“I did not choke!”

“You choked.” Luke and I argue over the details of how we met, in the backstage/dressing room area of the Club. It feels like lifetimes ago, but it wasn’t. And yet in such a short time, we had become completely infatuated and comfortable with one another. So much so that me wearing a floor-length evening gown and jewels doesn’t make me feel out of place with his jeans and flannel shirt.

Despite my light laughter, Luke’s face is fairly flat. He’s beginning to stare off into space, inattentive from our lull in the conversation.

“Hey, you okay?” He snaps back into reality.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” After a long moment of hesitation, he begins to speak, not looking up from the scuff on the linoleum flooring.

“Y/n, I have something to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“The boys and I… We… we have unfinished business…”

“Of course you do. That’s why you’re here- why all of us are here.”

“We’re gonna play the Orpheum tonight. At seven.”

“That’s so cool! Tha-” I feel my words trapped in my throat. “That’s your unfinished business... Play the show you never got to before you died.” I feel a well of tears flooding my bottom lash line. They’re not tears of sadness. “That’s your unfinished business. And you’re playing there tonight. Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out?!” I cry out in anguish. Luke’s face falls from a somber reluctance to break the news, to utter heartbreak.

“Y/n, I-”

“I thought we had something.”

“We do!”

“Then why would you wait to tell me until,” I check the analog clock on the wall behind him, “An hour before you go?!”

“I wanted to enjoy our last day together without having to think about it. I didn’t think it’d make you this angry.”

“Well, I am angry, Luke!” My sentence is punctuated by Luke getting zapped by a jolt of electricity. He groans as he tries to remain standing upright. The tears streaming down my face slow from a mix of anger to extreme worry.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Your dad gave us a ‘club stamp’ that first night we left.” My face falls slack as I register what he’s just said. Without another word, I furiously push out of my chair and out of the dressing room. Each stride is larger than the last as I let my legs carry me into the wings of the Club’s circular stage. When I have the familiar silver tinsel entrance in sight, I stop cold in my tracks. In front of me stands Alex, in a dazzling pink coat and diamond-covered oxfords, and Reggie, in a luxurious red vest and coat covered in black floral detailing. In front of them stands my father in his extravagant purple number that’s reminiscent of his outfits he wore when performing.

My frustrated steps carried me into his sight and the volume of my strides drew the two boys’ attention behind them. Luke. Luke stupidly followed me out here, and father merely looks at me and blinks authoritatively before redirecting his gaze onto my boyfriend.

“There you are. I knew I was missing a third musketeer.” With a snap of his fingers, dad has poofed Luke out from behind me and poofs him back in between his bandmates. When he reappears he’s wearing a deep blue suit with a black, tiered chiffon collar and bowtie.

“Isn’t it nice that you’re all here together?” Dad launches into his huge speech, seemingly convincing them to stay at the club. He mentions everything they want can be theirs here like Willie, the glory of performing, connection with an audience. As he speaks, he steps forward and reaches up. I go to yell and reach for Luke, but nothing comes out. There’s no sound coming from my mouth, and the undersurface of my black heels feel frozen solid to the ground. Dad notices my movement and shoots me a look to knock it off. Luke sees and as he moves to turn his head, dad reaches up to keep his focus forward before adjusting Luke’s collar for him. He continues with his big speech as another jolt graces all three boys at once.

“I suggest you accept my offer because the clock is ticking,” he downs one more sip of water, preparing to perform, “Ouch. You know where to find me.”

When he disappears onto the stage, I’m released from my spot and the momentum of my struggling launches me forward. Luke turns around just in time to catch me and once he does he doesn’t release me from his arms.

“Luke, I didn’t-”

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He holds me in his arms, one hand on my head to cradle me close to his chest and the other wrapped soothingly around my waist.

“He’s right,” I choke out my words through heavy sobs, “You don’t know that the Orpheum is really your unfinished business. What if it’s not? These jolts could kill you, Luke. For good. My dad may be powerful, but he doesn’t have the power to bring you back from this.”

When I look up, Luke has a heartbroken expression painted all over his face. Before I can speak again, Alex poofs out from beside us. Sharing a worried expression, Luke and I look out onto the stage where dad has him soloing front and center.

“I-I-I, I made a-a promise-”

“To Julie, I know. But if she’s really as wonderful, and as kind, and understanding, and loving as you describe her to be, won’t she understand?” Luke’s expression softens in realization.

“You’re actually considering staying with Caleb?” Reggie asks Luke incredulously. Before he can receive an answer, he, too, is poofed out onto the stage in Alex’s previous spot, to play a jazzy bass solo. Luke looks all around the backstage area, at the audience, between his band members, and at my dad. Finally, his eyes settle on mine. I can’t read his expression; I wish I knew what was going on inside his head.

“Stay.”

Luke and I run out of time when dad calls his name. He’s poofed us apart so I’m frozen against the downstage wall, out of sight from the audience, and Luke is struggling his way onto the stage.

Dad has him soloing for the audience, to create a musical dialogue between the two of them. Luke, conflicted, looks between me and my dad unsure of how to feel. The performer side of him must be loving the high that comes with performing in the club, but the loyal side of him, I can tell, is yearning for Julie.

When the song ends, the three boys share a single look of concern and remorse, no doubt for Julie. I can’t help but feel selfish asking him to stay. It’s not fair for me to ask him to choose between me and her... But that’s not what I’m asking. If all three of them stay here, they don’t risk dying for good. Surely Julie can understand choosing life, or the afterlife rather, over freedom is a rational trade.

Coming to his senses Luke runs off stage.

“Y/n-”

“It’s selfish of me to ask you to stay-”

“I’m staying.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to die, Y/n. If that means I have to play in your dad’s band, fine. But at least we can be together.” Luke runs the pad of his thumb across my cheek to wipe away the tear shed out of joy. Our moment is ended when Alex and Reggie have also returned backstage.

“Boys, if we stay here, we’ll get to live and make music for as long as we want.”

“You said it yourself, we made a promise. To Julie.” Reggie almost looks like he wants to cry.

“If this is what you want- to spend eternity playing jazz solos behind Caleb -I can’t stop you. But I’m not gonna let Julie down. Not again.” Alex searches Luke’s face for any hesitation. When he doesn’t find the change of heart he’s looking for, Alex nods and fidgets with his drumsticks in one hand. The sudden swell of emotion leads the two of them to hug each other tightly; I can’t imagine their pain of knowing they might never see each other again. When they let go, Luke and Reggie share in a hug and the heartache pulls Alex into their hug.

“Can you do me a favor?” Luke asks, sniffling away a few tears. Reggie and Alex nod,

“Anything.”

“Will you tell Julie she’s a star for me, one last time?” A sharp jolt hits the three of them in unison once more; a signal that it’s really time to say goodbye. With sorrowful smiles, Alex and Reggie poof out of the Hollywood Ghost Club for the last time.

When he turns around, Luke’s face is red and puffy from crying and the sight breaks my heart clean in half. I pull him into a hug and press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Luke.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

***

A/n: YOWZA this really made my heart hurt for Julie sm. I love her and if this were canon I’d have actually kermit.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej

[bookstantrash]

A/N: This is an idea that has been living inside my mind for a really long time and I finally gathered courage to write it. But I’m a bit of a perfectionist, so every time I read and edited it I always found more and more faults in what I had written, so I said “To hell with this, I’m gonna post it before I delete the whole thing”

This ended up being way longer than what I had imagined and I have no idea how I feel about it. So buckle up folks, because this is going to be a ride.

In which she makes a friend

After almost three months living in Illyria, Nesta could not recall a single conversation that had lasted for more than three minutes or that had been longer than two sentences. Not that she cared much in holding meaningless conversations about the weather and whatnot with the few Illyrians bold enough to talk to her. Because few were those that tried to talk to her, those that were not scared of her, whose voices did not whisper Other or Witch whenever she bothered to leave the house she now lived in.

So when Nesta sat on the lonely stone bench in front the house – the weather had given a break and gone from “insufferable bone cold” to “tolerable chilly” – to try and calm the raging fire in her veins, a sign that her power was trying to break free, a sign that she was close to breaking and destroying everything around her, she was very much surprised to find an Illyrian child walking towards her.

It was not unusual to have a few Illyrians knocking on the door sometimes, given that she now lived with him due to her sister’s order long ago in Velaris. But since her babysitter had gone to Cauldron knows where, to do Cauldron knows what a week ago, no one had come knocking on the door asking for that overgrown bat. Adding the fact that his house was a little secluded from the rest, Nesta could not imagine why that child was coming over.

“Good...good evening” the Illyrian greeted, stopping in front of her.

“He’s not here” Nesta said, eyeing the child in front of her. The boy – Nesta supposed it was a boy, not older than thirteen, with its short cut curly brown hair, bandaged hands, muddied clothes and scar free wings being the only clue she had – shifted nervously on his feet.

“I...I’m not looking for the General” the boy said “I heard there was a Witch living here. I take you are her”

For the second time of that day Nesta found herself surprised. The boy in front of her had called her a Witch in her face, something most did not.

“I wanted to ask for a spell” the boy’s voice had lost a bit of it’s previous nervousness, and he had squared his shoulders, wings slightly flaring “I don’t have much, but I’m ready to give anything in return”

‘You can’t possible have anything to give me’ Nesta thought, glancing at his ripped and dirty clothes.

“I’m no Witch” Nesta said, getting up and turning her back at the kid, making for the house’s door “Go back to your parents”

~•~

The next day, when Nesta was coming back from a walk in the woods – there was something about the ancient trees and the wilderness that helped her control her inner turmoil — she was baffled to see yesterday’s boy waiting for her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday” the boy blurted out before she could send him away “I didn’t want to offend you. I’m Kaelin”

Nesta’s only answer was a blink.

“I...I only said you were a Witch because that’s what the others said you were” Kaelin’s ears turned pink, no doubt embarrassed to admit listening to gossip.

“I don’t blame you” she said, and Kaelin’s eyes lit in surprise.

No. Nesta did not blame the boy for thinking her a Witch. Because long ago, before the war, before the empt void inside her was as big as the ocean, before she heard her father’s neck crack, she had declared to that annoying camp lord Devlon that she indeed was a Witch. But now, even though her powers were as loud as a beast’s roar in her ears, she did not want to touch them. Could not touch them.

And nothing, not even the hopeful look in Kaelin’s light brown eyes, would make her touch the wild beast that lived within her. She would not give the boy false hope. She would not fail another child. Not again. Not ever.

“If you have problems maybe you’d better tell your parents about it, instead of reaching for witchcraft”

After all, even thirteen year old Illyrians must have foolish mistakes that they would rather not tell their parents about.

“I don’t have parents. At least not anymore” Kaelin’s hard and sorrowful voice was enough to make Nesta resist prying further into his problem.

“I see” was the only thing she said, and she once again turned her back at him, entering that lonely and sad cabin, even though she was feeling rather inclined to talk, a feeling she had not felt for the longest time.

~•~

Kaelin appeared on Nesta’s door three days later, with a black eye, bruised cheek and a split lip that didn’t stop him from smiling and giving her something wrapped in brown paper.

“I thought about it and I realised that my apology was lacking” he started talking non stop, not giving Nesta a chance to say anything except gape at him and the gift on her hands “Father always said to treat everyone nicely, unless they were rude to you. He said it was what mother believed in”

Nesta could only nod and unwrap the paper to discover a pair of gloves.

“Did you steal them?” She asked, connecting the dots between the gloves she held — surely way out of the kid’s status of affordable — and his beaten face.

“No!” Kaelin replied, a bitterness in his voice “I know I’m just a lowly orphan but I’d never take something from another one in such an unhonoured way”

Nesta just grossed her arms, waiting for his explanation.

“One of the boys from the high families arrived at training with new boots” he gave a sly smile “I fought him for them”

“You did what?” Nesta’s voice rose and she was holding herself back from shaking the boy until he was back into his right mind.

“Fighting between Illyrians is not prohibited. But it’s best if you don’t get caught” Kaelin replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Nesta felt her temper rising.

“You. Come with me” she grabbed Kaelin’s arm and took him inside before he could protest.

She made him sit on sofa in the living room while she went searching for the medic supplies she was sure Cassian had. Once she found it, she went back to Kaelin and started treating his cuts, mumbling the entire time about how stupid and reckless boys were.

“This is nice” he said, wincing slight when Nesta touched his bruised cheek.

“What is nice?”

“Having someone take care of you” he answered “I... I didn’t know my mom. She died shortly after I was born. Father said she was quite fragile”

Nesta trying to not let show how his words affected her. She remembered another woman, dying in a lonely bed just a few years after her youngest child had been born.

“He died in the last war. Against Hybern” he practically spat the late king’s name, hate filling every syllable.

Nesta finished treating him and started organising the materials, to keep herself busy and have an excuse to buy time to know what to answer him. She had never been good at consoling others. And she didn’t know why, but she was afraid her bluntness would end up hurting Kaelin.

“He was a hero” he said firmly, his eyes shining with defiance “He may have been just a mere foot soldier but he was at the front line, keeping Hybern’s forces back”

“I’m sure he was” Nesta replied, trying not to think about who may have said otherwise to him, hurting a child who had nothing “But would he like to see his son picking meaningless fights?”

“It was to get you a gift” Kaelin looked down and poked at the sofa “I’m sure he’d have understood. Besides, I have to fight and stand out if I want to have a shot at the Rite”

“You mean the Blood Rite? I thought everyone participated” Nesta had gathered little information about the Illyrians for the time she had been living in Illyria. There were no libraries, no bookstores, and the books Cassian had about the Illyrian culture and history were scarce and outdated.

“The very one. You are not obligated to become a warrior, but that’s the path most of male Illyrians take. Not that we have many options to begin with” Kaelin’s voice had became serious “Most of the males from the richer families are bound to participate, but the rest.... we end up being mere foot soldiers. Expendable. So no point in making us take part in it.”

At his words, Nesta could not help but think about Cassian. He too was an orphan but had risen to be Rhysand’s Commander and had seven siphons. From what she had heard and seen at the war, that was rather unusual.

“It’s worse for females” Kaelin added quietly.

She knew that. Saw how females were treated on the rare times she got out of the cabin. A scarce number trained. And she did not know a lot about training, but was sure it was not near enough to make them part of the Illyrian army. Or even defend themselves were the worst to happen.

Nesta opened her mouth to say Cauldron knows what — she had to say something, she could not let the boy leave with such dark thoughts — when a loud noise interrupted her.

It was a sound Nesta knew quite well from her time as a human living in a shabby cottage.

A sound she had become reacquainted with after being Made. After that day at the battle field.

The sound of hungriness. The sound of someone who was starving, and had been so for quite a while.

And it was coming from Kaelin.

The Illyrian boy beside her blushed a deep scarlet, trying — and failing — to come up with an excuse. But Nesta knew better. She knew the signs of starvation. Saw them in herself. Had seen it in her younger sisters, when they were not older than Kaelin.

Thin wrists. Sunken eyes. Cheekbones way too sharp. Up close Nesta could properly examine Kaelin and notice that the boy was all bones and little muscle, his skinny built not a consequence of slow metabolism to gain weight, but rather the fact that he did not have enough sustenance to make it possible.

“I have way too much food stocked here. I was supposed to be living with an adult warrior that can eat for five people “ Nesta began, cutting Kaelin’s blabbering “It would be a crime to let it all get wasted”

Leaving him no window to reply, she took hold of his arm, hauling him towards the kitchen and making him to sit down while she gathered whatever food she came across. And she had enough fire in her eyes — she may or may not have lost a little bit of control of her powers due to her racing emotions — that Kaelin did not dare say a word, but just sit quietly and eat what was put in front of him.

~•~

Nesta’s routine had suffered a slight change after that evening. For the past month and a half, Kaelin had been having a meal with her after his training. Every day.

She had made sure to make it clear that she was expecting a visit from him after his activities were over.

He did not dare argue with her.

Today, however, was an unusual day.

Kaelin was late.

Almost two hours late.

Nesta had come to know Illyrian boy better, and one thing she learned about him was that he detested to be late. For him, his promises and commitment were everything, reminding her of another Illyrian she knew – which had not come back in two months. Not that she missed or was worried about him.

She tried and failed to convince herself that Kaelin may have been held back by training. But she did not know why she felt a strange feeling. Her powers were restless, more so than usual.

The air and the trees around her seemed different.

She felt it deeply in her bones.

As if the Cauldron itself — hidden far far away in a island that did not exist in any map ever written — dreaded whatever future thread the Mother was knitting.

As if something had been woken.

As if the winds of change had gone from a light breeze to a tornado, ready to wreak havoc in Illyria.

Nesta could not hold herself back any longer. She needed to know what was happening. To know if that strange song that spoke of a power strong and ancient was connected to Kaelin tardiness.

So into the woods she went.

She walked and walked, until the song in her ears got louder and a new sound appeared, a sound she would not be able to hear were it not for her fae ears.

The sound of someone whimpering.

Quickening her steps, Nesta followed the cries of pain until the wall of trees around her gave way to a small clearing.

And there, lying curled up in a ball, was Kaelin.

“KAELIN!”

Nesta ran towards him, falling on her knees beside his body.

“What happened? Did somebody hurt you?” she smelled blood, and feared the Illyrian whose boots he had “won” had gone after him for payback.

Her mind was racing, her thoughts overlapping themselves. She recalled another winged body, laying on the ground. She recalled another child, crying in pain due to its empty stomach, who had not seen food for weeks.

She would not fail anyone ever again. That had been her promise to herself.

“Kaelin...” Nesta slowly touched his arm, trying to soothe him “Talk to me. Tell me where it hurts”

Kaelin whimpered, slowly uncurling his body and tucking his wings. He clutched his abdomen, and Nesta dared to try and touch her power.

She would touch that dangerous beast if that meant she could help the young boy in front of her.

And so she tentatively reached inside herself for that source, trying to recall if any training she’d had with Amren may assist her in the current situation.

She scanned Kaelin’s body, and that’s when she noticed the small drops of blood beneath him. But her powers had not detected any wounds. No, he was not hurt.

However, she finally found the origin of the bleeding. And Nesta momentarily lost her breath.

Because she knew the reason why Kaelin was in pain.

“You are not a boy” she breathed.

Kaelin was a girl.

A girl who had had her first period.

A girl who was passing as a boy. Training like one.

And when Kaelin finally meet Nesta’s eyes, brown eyes shining with tears, she cursed the Mother for whatever future thread she had knitted.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Yancy x Illinois - First Impressions Aren’t Always the Best

I decided to try properly writing Yanois, just to see how I’d manage it. After rewatching Illinois’ scenes, I think he would get on the nerves of the Yancy I write at first.

Word Count 2,122

(Read more because Illinois talks so much...)

-

Happy Trails Penitentiary was renowned for its rehabilitation initiatives. They had a wide variety of classes and visitors to help prisoners. Educational courses, chances to learn new skills, pen pal projects. Many prisoners would never have the opportunity for such experiences, and it was an integral part of helping them prepare for a better life outside of prison when their sentence was finished.

There was one visitor that most prisoners in Yancy’s ‘Gang’ adored. His name was Illinois, a renowned adventurer and archaeologist. Between his job in the university and research trips, he only had time to visit once every few months. It worked in his favour, as those that wanted to visit were able to to hear the various stories that Illinois was more than happy to tell. Not only that, it would encourage the small ‘fan club’ among the younger prisoners.

It was one of the few events that Yancy avoided. Something about Illinois rubbed him the wrong way. He was so arrogant and cocky, acting like the world revolved around him. It wasn’t an act, either. Yancy had spotted Illinois speaking to the Warden on his first visit two years earlier, and he acted the exact same way as he did in the talk that happened that day. After that, Yancy decided he didn’t want anything to do with the adventurer. But if Illinois were to ever become an inmate? Yancy would make sure Illinois had the snot beaten out of him within the first week.

Unfortunately, a lot of the Gang were of the opposite view, especially those around Yancy’s age. To them, Illinois walked straight out of an adventure movie and lived the ideal life. What prisoner didn’t dream of going exploring in uncharted territories? It meant that they would frequently share Illinois’ tales in rec yard when he came to visit. Yancy would roll his eyes, but keep quiet. Let them have their fun.

Today was the day that Illinois visited the prison. It had been over three months since the last visit, so there was an excited buzz among individuals in the Gang. Yancy spent the morning bracing himself. There was a talk after lunch that the others would go to, which would mean the rest of the afternoon and evening would be nothing but historical chatter and “Illinois is so cool!”. He would grumble, but he would keep that to himself. It wasn’t fair to deflate their excitement. He went to the library, found some random book and focused on that for the day. Then, once they had their excitement, it would die down and Yancy could enjoy more casual conversation.

Which was the plan… Until Bam-Bam pleaded for him to go to the last talk of the day. It turned out that his shift clashed with the talk everyone else they knew went to, and he didn’t want to go alone. Begrudgingly, Yancy closed the book, returned it to the shelf, and followed Bam-Bam. A flaw of being a loyal friend was knowing when to swallow your pride and do something you would rather not do.

-

When you go to something with low expectations, it can be incredibly difficult to feel the time was used in a worthwhile manner. Some might have memories of a teacher they hated, or a family gathering they had been dreading. This was a similar position to what Yancy found himself in. One of the ‘classrooms’ had been adjusted slightly to allow various displays to take center stage, with the chairs in neat rows in front of it. Bam-Bam and Yancy claimed two seats at the back, allowing the greaser to slouch in the chair with his arms crossed. Then, once more prisoners had arrived, the talk began.

On and on Illinois went, droning endlessly in that slow drawl. Yancy wished he had a TV remote to speed up the talking a fraction. Was Illinois focused on making sure everyone could understand him, or did he want to prolong the joy of hearing himself talk? It might have been more tolerable if Bam-Bam wasn’t genuinely engrossed in the lecture. They could have made amusing comments throughout. Instead, Yancy was stuck. Sure, history was interesting, but Illinois really drove home the stereotype of boring history teachers. The ‘adventures’ even sounded cliché and fake. Maybe he should have taken the book with him after all...

A painfully slow half hour passed. Once the talk was over, Illinois would literally open the floor to the other prisoners. The chairs would be pushed aside and those that wanted to look at the items Illinois brought were welcome to do so. Yancy was dragged along to view the pieces. Most of the articles were dated to be approximately eight thousand years old. What caught Bam-Bam’s attention was a stone carving that vaguely resembled a cat.

“Ahhh, I see the ‘White Jaguar’ has caught your attention.” Yancy had to repress a shudder at the smooth voice interrupting their own questions back and forth. Illinois stepped over, resting an arm against the perspex container. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? A miracle we even found her in the first place. She was why I wasn’t able to visit like I said I would last month.” Bam-Bam’s eager question had Illinois chuckle and shake his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure you two gentlemen have much better things to do than hear about how I nearly lost my right hand in my most recent adventure.” When Bam-Bam insisted otherwise, Illinois smirked (and Yancy nearly gagged).

“If you insist. While on our recent dig, I noticed one of the ruins had a floor panel that looked a little different from the rest. It took a little persuasion, but I got that pesky stone up. There, sprawled out before me, was a staircase leading down into the earth. I picked up one of the torches and made my way down. Slowly, I delved deeper into the darkness. One step gave way under me to set off a series of poison-dipped darts, but I was able to dodge them all without breaking a sweat.” Illinois continued, dramatically regaling every single trap that he encountered until he found the White Jaguar. When taking everything around it, he surmised that the owner of the house had been a thief. The jaguar motif was familiar, as he had noticed something similar in a nearby cave that had been repurposed at the time as a sacred spot.

“- Now, this heart of this cave was still guarded by ancient jaguar spirits. They rattled the large statues as I approached, obviously sensing the treasure I carried. In the middle, there was a jaguar’s head carved out of stone. Its jaw was open wide and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was just the right spot for this precious lady. But then, skeletons of what I assume were magic users from an era long gone by pounced and tried to wrestle the statue off me, but I was too fast for them. At last, I reached the carved head, put the White Jaguar in the mouth… and the stone head moved, trapping my arm in a ferocious bite!” He gestured to the cloth wrapped around his right wrist. It was unwrapped just enough to show the healing bite marks. “It had the strength to bite it clean off, but relented when it realised what I had done by offering my arm as blood payment to return -”

“Wait wait wait.” Yancy’s interruption had Bam-Bam elbow him, but it didn’t stop the objection. “That can’t be right. If youse managed to bring this back to where it’s meant to be, why the fuck is it here?”

“An excellent question. This is my recreation of it. I am no thief. I return artefacts to where they belong. Archaeology has a rotten connection with thievery, and I try to rectify the mistakes of my predecessors.”

“So then this entire thing could be bullshit!” Yancy scoffed. “Bam-Bam, this guy just got bitten by someone’s dog and has made this pile of baloney to hide that.”

“Are you accusing me of being a liar?”

“Well, I ain’t calling you a ‘truther’, that’s for sure!”

Yancy was ready for a proper argument. In fact, he was hoping for one. Instead… Illinois laughed, and it wasn’t that typical ‘cocky chuckle’. It was a bright, genuine laugh. He could almost see Bam-Bam go starry-eyed at such a rare moment. Typical Yancy. Getting more attention from Illinois when he wanted to rile him up.

“I suppose it all does sound rather suspicious when you put it that way. Let me show you something.” Illinois gestured for the pair to follow him toward a display of photographs. Instead of pointing to these, he instead reached for his briefcase. A small photo album was pulled out. Yancy noticed that it was dated three months prior. While Illinois flipped through it, both prisoners could see what looked like an area that had been dug up. It matched the pictures in front of them of an excavation site. At last, Illinois found what he was looking for.

“One Guardian Jaguar, complete with the White Jaguar in its mouth. As you can see, the teeth have fresh blood on them. It was an… Oddly tranquil sight, despite the unfortunate situation.”

“So then why act like these are the real deal? People just take youse’s word for it?”

“Normally those that attend my talks know that what I show are my artistic recreations for purely educational purposes. I suppose I do take for granted that those who attend here are invested regulars.” Illinois gave a small shrug. “It’s an easy mistake to forget to remind people who might be new to my talks. I’m sorry if you thought I was a fraud, but I am the real deal. Too good to be true, yet here I am.”

“Yeah yeah, ‘sucks that I’m perfect as shit’, I get it. Least you knows not to make that mistake again.” Yancy rocked back on his heel with the intention of turning and walking away.

“Now now. I can’t let you walk off like that. Take this.” Another item was pulled out of his briefcase. “I made this smaller model of the White Jaguar as a ‘first draft’. I was intending on using it as motivation to my first-year students but… I think it should stay here with you.” Illinois took the opportunity to reach for Yancy’s hand. The small clay model was gently placed in it before Illinois curled Yancy’s fingers over it to keep it in place. His hands stayed where they were as he continued, “We think the White Jaguar was a symbol of good fortune. Perhaps it might bring you some good luck.” He smiled at Yancy, only to have the moment broken by the guard announcing that there were five minutes before the prisoners had to return to their cells for the afternoon count. Yancy took the chance to quickly leave the room without as much as a ‘goodbye’. At least his friend, who introduced himself as Bam-Bam, quickly thanked Illinois before darting out.

A few more questions were asked of him by other prisoners and curious staff; and then it was time to tidy up to bring everything back to the university. It was only when he reached the White Jaguar model did Illinois hesitate. There was something about that abrasive prisoner he couldn’t put his finger on. Was it because he seemed uninterested in the adventurer? Or was there something else? It was a rare moment that Illinois wished he’d had an excuse to chat to the prisoner longer. Maybe not here, but somewhere quieter. Just the two of them.

Huh… Was this what an attraction felt like? He joked about others falling in love with him so often, he wasn’t sure if this was payback for never returning interest in others. He was drawn toward a prisoner that seemed keen to dismiss his hard work and reputation. And worse! Illinois didn’t even know his name!

Then again… A good adventurer always loves the thrill of a mystery. Maybe he could try and find that prisoner next time he visited. Now that the university was open again, he’d be able to drop by more frequently…

--

For what it was worth, Yancy also had a mystery on his hands.

Namely, how to get away from Bam-Bam - who would not SHUT UP about their prolonged conversation with Illinois - and half the gang - who were incredibly jealous Yancy got a gift from the Illinois!

He dropped his head against the chow hall table with a low ‘thunk’. This was the opposite of getting the others to stop talking about Illinois around him!

[realisaonum]

book meme

thank you, jen @det395​ !! i feel like this meme got away from me a bit, but no shame! i love talking about books and writing so onward ~under the cut~

1- how many books are too many books in a series? 

mhmmmmm i guess it depends on the objective of the series, right? is the plan to have x number of books in the series and if so, when we finally get to the end will it be satisfying considering all the books we’ve read leading up to it? OR is the objective of the premise / characters just to exist doing whatever? both can be done well. i would say a lot rides on how much i trust the author.

2- what do you think about cliffhangers?

so this is meant for cliffhangers in a series like between books? i don’t really care if there’s a cliffhanger as long as i have the next book sitting right next to me. otherwise uh, only if the wait between books is tolerable, because at that point you need to know that the author can clear this mess up, right? there’s this other thing, like you know how if the entire series was already written, then they might release the books a month apart or a quarter apart - that could be alright too. but years in between? not especially a fan. is anyone a fan?

3- hardback or paperback?

jen, you and me are complete opposites here. paperbacks stress me out. i will go out of my way to buy a used hardcover if given the choice. of course, there are some publications i don’t mind in paperback —thinking poetry and super indie books that don’t have a hardcover release OR books where the spines are thin enough they won’t break and i won’t be holding them long enough for them to wear. hardcovers are sturdy and i don’t have to worry i’ll accidentally bend the cover in some damaging way. I am invested in keeping my books nice to the point that i create covers for my books out of kraft paper or brown grocery bags while i am reading them. this is something i started when i was in college and didn’t want these books i was hoping to probably resell get thrashed coming in and out of my bag for all these classes. My home library is probs more half and half paperback/hardcover but if given a choice usually it’s hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

i think it’s good to at least attempt to meet a book on its level. there are lots of books i didn’t like, but i wasn’t meeting them on their level and i know that so we’re ignoring those. i do however have a shelf on my goodreads dedicated to books that i have beef with so i’ll just go off on two of them.....

tana french’s the likeness for being plagiaristic shit. it is essentially poorly concealed alternate universe OC insert fic of the secret history. you’ve got french’s dublin murder squad folks and then this group they are investigating who bear a STRIKING resemblance to the greek students in tsh 🤔. this would be one thing. it is pretty well acknowledged that nothing is original and there are enough changes to The Likeness that MAYBE i could let it slide if not for this other thing: french’s book, the likeness, has lines that are just basically reworded quotes from the secret history and french positions these lines so they are said by the counterpart (essentially same!) character that gave them original life in tsh. i cannot stress this enough: you can HEAR how similar the sentences are and their core intent is always the same. it’s thinly veiled theft! it astounds me that French hasn’t been sued frankly. it is one thing to want to capture some of the genius that tartt’s debut novel holds, but it is completely lazy and disgusting theft to go about it in the way French did with this book. and YES the secret history was published before french’s book. if i could stomach how fucking goddamn boring the likeness was to read it a second time and cite every one of these offenses i would, but that’s yet a third strike against it—it’s too boring to be worth it. 

T. Kingfisher’s second book of the Clocktuar War duology : The Wonder Engine. this is a book that i feel violated the contract between writer and reader. the first book feels almost like a YA book. the stakes while described as very high are treated, as actions unfold, as very low. nothing truly irreparable happens until the climax of the second book and the fallout of that action is so off-tone of everything that came before i felt deeply betrayed. no, like, completely betrayed as in it ruined the rest of my afternoon, i am still viscerally angry eight months later, and i will never trust this author again. sure, maybe none of those actions that led to the climax were out-of-character, but there was nothing NOTHING in the proceeding action that even came close to that level of consequence. it’s a pity because right up till that point i was having a really good time. the entire vibe of the rising action to the climax of book one all the way through the rising action of book two was just a quippy fun version of roadtrip/quest - it felt like a comfort read. the abrupt tone shift had all the subtlety of dropping a graphically, brutal murder into Blue’s Clues. you don’t do that - this is a basic tenet of a writer / reader relationship. i’m not touching this bitch’s shit again.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

not so much. i like jen before me will scream ‘just be poly.’ love triangles that lead into poly relationships? yes, awesome will be glad i read. but i am at a stage in my life where your standard will-they-won’t-they-love-triangle is just fucking pointlessly frustrating to me. an example: i read a Nic Stone’s book Odd One Out a couple years ago and something about the synopsis or the hype made me think that it would resolve the love triangle that way, so when that did not happen i was incredibly frustrated and immediately wanted to resell the book. it’s the potential of the thing. stone’s book could have been the perfect vehicle for opening up the concept of polyamory to a ya audience but instead just really squandered that potential with weak floundering — in my opinion!

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

uhhhhh i’ve got two and i’m not sure i’ve entirely given up quite yet buuuuuuuut 

fucking dune. i got really pissed off with this book. So just…setting aside the whole vaguing at a pedophilically inclined queer coded villain - it’s done so poorly, that it's almost funny? like it doesn’t (as of half way through) actually have any consequence on…anything at all and is tacked on like an afterthought to the end of his scenes. honestly it all could just be cut out entirely with no recourse to the larger story. So my actual beef with this book is the pacing is ATROCIOUS. like yo, not only do you expect me to give a shit about these Atreides cunts, when we just met them and we spend the same amount of time with them IF NOT MORE with the antagonist? but you also expect me to believe Paul was able to just convince the leader of the Arrakis people —the leader of an entire planet!!— with a single fucking sentence??? yeah, not so much. it was not set up for me to believe that Paul could do that! maybe if Kynes hadn’t died immediately after—or at least not died at that moment? baring the fact I thought he was by far the most interesting character, IF he had been convinced by Paul in that scene, it would have been great to see some actual work done around that - with a transfer or a liaise of power between Kynes and Paul and the Fremen. By not having any substantive scene that does it - it begs the question of what the fuck was the point of the character in the first place? unplumbed potential!!! over all there seem to be some key scenes missing to get the reader to where the narrative expects us to be? but the choices made of the characters we spend time with and the moments we see with them, the benefit to the larger story…is not always there. hey herbert, these words you have written aren’t doing what you want them to?? i feel like i should finish it but i reaaaaallly don’t want to :) the only thing i can say is it looks like from the trailer, villeneueve is giving space to these moments so that the viewer can foster a genuine connection with the characters? radical concept.

our lady of perpetual hunger - i started this one optimistically bc i like chef memoirs, but i am at the point where she has just given birth to her son and honestly DON’T CARE. i still haven’t officially given up on it yet since i actually fucking bought it like a dope. i certainly would not have if i knew how much NOT about working the line this was gonna be

7- book you are currently reading

Aside from the failures mentioned above, I am working on the second book in B. Catling’s Vorrh trilogy, The Erstwhile. Also very close to finally finishing Iain Sinclair’s The Last London - there’s a review of his work from the LA Times that goes “One of Sinclair’s greatest skills has always been his ability to take diverse if not chaotic source material and refashion it in a way that sometimes seems downright alchemical” which captures some of the wonder I experience when reading his work. His style and how he creates atmosphere and setting is just unique and astounding.

8- last book you recommended to someone

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Before that I told my brother to read Eat a Peach, as we both love Anthony Bourdain and David Chang talks about him a bit here, plus it’s just a fucking great book. any book that gives insight into Chang’s methodology and paradigm is worth a shot.

9- oldest book you read

I think it might have to be Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (which apparently according to wiki premiered on the stage a whole four months before Hamlet so that’s what we’re going with) and if plays don’t count, I don’t care. I think they count and that’s what we’re going with.

10- the most recent book you read ?

Given the previous question, the most recently published book, right? It’s gotta be the one I just finished: The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic - Revised and Expanded edt., which like just came out this summer. I watched Jessica Hopper’s promo zoom, curtesy of my local indie bookstore, and went ahead and bought it. This was a great decision! It was just what I needed to read these last couple of weeks. i love there’s lots of short pieces that made the read quick and the fact that it’s non-fiction so there was no pressure of a plot or the emotional weight of character investment when I had a lot of big stressors dragging me down irl -it was such a relief. Hopper’s criticism is fun to read and there’s some real art in her appreciation of music here.

11- favourite author?

These are the top in a kind of order but not really: Donna Tartt, Jeff VanderMeer, Megan Whalen Turner, Flannery O’Conner, Chuck Palahniuk, Anthony Bourdain

Other faves very much worth mentioning: Emily O’Neill, Richard Siken, Brandon Sanderson, Warren Ellis, Nathan Englander, Stephen King, Eddie Huang, Carl Hiaassen, Anne Carson, and Iain Sinclair.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

Depends on if my library has it, of course! I nearly always see if my library has a copy first if i have never read it or the author before. If i’ve read the book before or trust the author, I’ll buy it. Like I’ll straight out buy new stuff from Jeff VanderMeer even though with him it’s either this-hits-exactly-and-is-my-new-fave or i-really-disliked-this-but-admire-the-boundaries-you’re-pushing-my-dude - so it’s always a gamble but a worthy one.

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

a little life (just bc it's torture porn elevated to art doesn’t negate the fact that it’s torture porn. Yanagihara’s project here is repugnant and the fact that this book is lauded as moving lgbt fiction makes my skin crawl)

sharp objects (good writing, compelling story, BUT typographical scarification doesn't work like that - i am not going to get into it but i know from first hand experience how Flynn described it is not accurate)

nesbø’s the snowman (what kinda dumbass detective would think THAT when a woman finds her missing father’s corpse? absolute idiocy - so obviously reverse engineered with that end in mind)

the raven cycle (fuck ronan lynch to start and then fuck him to end as well - there’s some other stuff but mostly he’s a total CUNT and if i don’t say that once a day i have probably died)

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks and sticky notes. Then I can place it pointing directly to the paragraph I last stopped on.

15- The book you can always reread?

This is my question because I reread all the time. ALL THE TIME. Books I reread often: The Secret History, Medium Raw (especially chapter 17 The Fury), Crooked Kingdom, The Violent Bear It Away, and The Goldfinch. Every year like clockwork (since it came out apparently) I will reread Stephen King’s The Outsider.

Other books I feel the urge to reread: VanderMeer’s Acceptance, Englander’s Dinner at the Center of the Earth, Frazier’s Nightwoods, Fresh Off the Boat, the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, the Peter Grant Series (which is queued up for another go here soon I think), any of the stories from A Good Man is Hard to Find, Sanderson’s Wax and Wayne Mistborn books, simon vs the homosapiens’ agenda, and there are two of Alan Morinis’ books on Mussar that I am technically always revisiting—when i need a reminder, i’ll jump around and read specific sections to get centered again.

16- can you read while listening to music?

Yes, but only ambient or near ambient (only usually one track on repeat) or a soundtrack I am extremely familiar with. No new music. I do usually need some audio stimulation or my mind will wander terribly.

17- one POV or multi POV?

Multi pov can certainly be done well (looking at the soc duaology and VanderMeer’s Acceptance) but working a multi-pov means there are more plates spinning, it’s more of a challenge, and some authors pull it off better than others.

18- do you read book in one sitting or in multiple days?

I don’t really do this anymore. that might have something to do with me picking up thicker books? but also i have a full time job now and let’s be real the book has to be hella good if i don’t want to put it down. the last book i attempted to shotgun was the final installment of my favorite series and it still took me two days so....i can get through a lot of books but none of them are ever in one sitting anymore.

19- who to tag:

@sybilius​ @mouth-rainboy​ @iwonderifthatisart​ @phereinnike​ @magnificentmoose​ @wambsgangs​ @moriarteaparty​ and anyone else if you feel so inclined!

Bonus Question: What’s on your to-read shelf? 

As for me, I am excited about one i just picked up, Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines, which i might start tomorrow and I will be taking Paul Madonna’s Come to Light on my trip to see my brother this coming weekend. 

[jaminjims]

i love you’s || k.nj

synopsis: you could never stop saying ‘i love you’ to him because he was everything you ever needed. 

pairing: kim namjoon x gender neutral reader 

genre: oneshot! fluff, fluff, and more fluff (and maybe just a tiny little bit of angst but its barely noticeable)

warnings: n/a

words: 1.7k

a/n: omg kinda nervous to release this fic because it’s in a different style than i usually post in but i thought it was really cute and with all the literal angst i’ve been publishing, this would be like a breath of fresh air. so here it is, and yes before you ask, this IS based off of the dream i had of namjoon that i said i would write like three millennia ago. i hope you guys like it!

“Namjoon, come on. I don’t want to wait in the long line.” You whined as you pulled your boyfriend by the hand. 

He laughed and smiled that dimpled smile you adored so much, “Ok, ok. I didn’t know you loved smoothies so much, babe.” He linked his fingers with yours and then kissed the back of your hand. 

You giggled and leaned your head against his shoulder, “Well, maybe if you came out of your studio every once in awhile you would know.” By your teasing voice, Namjoon knew you weren't actually criticizing him about his work. 

It has been awhile since the two of you have been out together for a full day like this and you wanted to cherish every moment you got with him. Namjoon often lost himself in his work, but you could tell he really loves what he does, so you didn’t mind as much when he spends hours at a time working on music. 

But that didn't mean you didn’t miss him. You were always up waiting for him when he got home later than usual. You would bring him lunch when you weren't to busy yourself and talk about your days. It was the little things that made him fall infinitely more in love with you. 

“I’m just happy you're with me now, though.” You said as you smiled up at him. 

He squeezed your hand and leaned down to kiss your forehead, “Lets go. I thought you didn’t want to wait in the line to long.” 

You snickered and started dragging him to the smoothie booth again. “Haha, you are so funny.” You mumbled sarcastically.

He laughed again and jogged a little ways to catch up with you. He un-linked your hands to instead put his arm around your shoulders. The both of you waited in the smoothie line for awhile, just discussing life, until it was your turn to order. 

“I would like a banana smoothie please.” You looked over at Namjoon and couldn’t help but admire his face as he looked up at the order menu. He was wearing a black turtle neck tucked into dark blue jeans. 

‘Is it hot in here or is it just me?’

You didn’t catch his answer to the girl getting your orders, but you did notice when he took his arm from around your shoulders to grab his wallet. But you stopped him before he could get out any money. 

“Yah, I’m paying.” You said with finality while Namjoon sighed in response, shaking his head with a smiled on his face.

“Yes, anything for you.” He said. But was it just you or did it sound teasing? 

You huffed out a laugh before responding, “Well now I wanna let you pay.” Even as you said that though, you gave the cash to the lady at the register. She looked between the two of you and smiled endearingly before handing back your change. 

Namjoon pulled you to a table close by so you could wait for your drinks. The mall around you was bustling with people and you were glad he seemed to find a relatively quiet (well at least quiet for a mall) place to sit. 

You grabbed his hands from across the table and just starred at him. Which people would have thought was creepy if it wasn’t for the fact that Namjoon starred back at you with just the same amount of adoration. 

“What you starring at me for?” He question as he squeezed your hands. 

You shrugged in response, “I just love looking at you, I guess.” 

He smiled his dimpled smiled again and looked down at the table, breaking eye contact. You couldn't help but smile at how bashful he was.

When your orders were called he got up from his seat and went to collect them. You took this chance to move your chair next to his so you could be closer to each other.

He came back and put your smoothie in front of you while he started to drink his. Once he sat down, the both of you talked about everything you could. Having deep conversations like this was one of the reasons why your relationship worked so well. The both of you believed that communication was one of the essentials in a relationship, and the both of you tended to talk about what's on your minds all the time so it was something you excelled in.

“What do you think your future looks like?” 

Namjoon looked out into the busy mall, “I don’t know, honestly.” He then turned to look at you. “But I do know that you’re in it.” 

The blush on your face was there before he even finished his sentence. “Ugh, stop being so sappy.” And even though you said that, there was a big smile on your face and the fluttering in your heart made you jittery. 

The both of you talked for a little more before your smoothies were gone. You both got up and went to throw your trash away, but before you could continue walking around, you grabbed Namjoon by the waist and pulled him in for a hug. 

He was surprised at your gesture but settled into the embrace none-the-less. As he wrapped his arms around you, you sighed out, just enjoying the moment. 

“You know, you’re a very good hugger.” 

His chuckle reverberates through his chest. “You tell me that all the time babe.”

When you didn’t let go of the hug after a little while, he got a little worried. “Hey, are you ok?” 

You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, “Yep,” you looked up at him and smiled big, “I just love you a lot.”

~**~

“Can we go? Please?” You said as you gave Namjoon you’re best puppy dog eyes. You had pulled him in the direction of the “Kiddie Section” in the mall and you were currently pointing to a ride that looked like it would fit a six year old, definitely not you, a full sized adult. 

“You’re such a kid.” He snorted. “You will most definitely get stuck in that thing.” 

“No I won’t.” You said, hitting him on the arm. 

He sighed good-naturedly and pulled put a quarter to put into the - to him - small death like contraption they called a little kids ride. It was a tiny red car that was painted on the front to look like a clown. Like come on. 

You sat down and just your knees took up all the space, but you somehow fit yourself down into the tiny seat and you then pester Namjoon to take a picture. 

He snaps a picture and then he smiles and sets it as his new phone background. 

“Jonnie, uh, so like...” 

He looks back over at you and can’t suppress his groan because he was right and you did end up getting stuck.

“Oh for the love of... Ok, what do you need me to do?” 

“Can you pull my arms up while I try to get my legs about from under me?” 

The both of you try to get you out for about ten minutes before you finally twist your body the right way to get out, but while you do, you hit your knee hard. 

“Babe, you ok?” He asks as he helps you sit down on a nearby bench. 

You rub your knee and grimace. “Yeah it just hurts a lot.” 

He sighs tiredly but still has a smile on his face. He then puts his phone in his back pocket and bends down in front of you. “Come on, get on, love.” 

You frowned, “But I don’t want to hurt you. Besides, you’ll get tired.” 

He turns around and flicks your forehead, “You have no say in this.” 

You laugh a little and accept his piggy back ride. The two of you walked, well Namjoon walked while you were carried, around the mall. You were window shopping while talking and occasionally you would make a joke that would make the two of you laugh. 

You both got ice cream after about an hour of walking around and you leaned up (you were still being carried) and placed a kiss on Namjoon’s cheek. “I love you lots.”

His dimple smile made your heart swell and he tightened his grip around your thighs. 

“I love you more.” 

~**~ 

“Hey, wanna see a movie?” Even though it was a question, you made it sound like a statement. 

The both of you were sitting on a bench outside at near-by park. Watching and listening to the wildlife and children play about. 

“Mm, what do you wanna see?” he stated as he continued to draw lazy patterns on your shoulder with the hand that was around you. 

Your eyes brightened up and you smiled, “I don’t know, maybe the new Scooby-Do movie?” 

He snickered and looked over at you, “Of course you would say that.” 

You narrowed your eyes, “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

He leaned in and kissed your nose, “That I would do anything for you, even see the Scooby-Do movie.” 

You took the chance and kissed him on the lips, a smirk in place, “Hey, I heard it was actually good.” 

“Mhm, lets go. I want to get the earliest one.” 

He pulled you up by your hand (since your knee didn’t hurt that much anymore) and intertwined your fingers, walking toward the movie theater connected to the mall. 

You purchased the tickets while he got the snacks and you two made your way to theater number seven, where the starting credits where just beginning to start. 

When you sat down, you took both of Namjoon’s hands in yours and preoccupied yourself with playing with his fingers. It was actually something you really liked doing because his hands were really smooth. 

While you were waiting for the movie to start, he looked over at you with a soft smile on his face and adoration in his eyes. He couldn’t believe that he had someone as great and amazing as you in his life. 

Right as the movie theater was dimming down to get ready to play Scooby-Do, you looked up and caught him staring at you. 

You smiled shyly, “What?” 

He shrugged and leaned in to kiss you. When he pulled away, you opted to snuggle up into him, to be as close as possible. 

“I love you.” you whispered as the movie started. 

You didn’t think he heard you but he leaned his head on top of yours and felt him smile against your hair. “I love you more.” 

[end]

end note: there’s not much for me to say other than i had myself melting at this one you guys. and i hope no one was to thrown off by the writing style! oh and also! i love ya’ll! that’s it. that’s all i had to add

~**~

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taglist: @boba-tea1206​

[yeoldontknow]

🖊writerly conversation tag

tagged by @j-pping to do this amazing interview/reflections tag. of course she put together one of the most amazing tags ever because she is brilliant. thank you for tagging me angel! 

questions below the cut!

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

gosh...i think for me the hardest bit was staying both motivated and inspired. a lot of my inspiration comes from being out in the world. im an introvert but i enjoy being out in the city around the noise and the people and the buildings on my own. the majority of my writing used to be done while riding the subway or on a weekend after id gone out somewhere. a lot of my fics are inspired by locations, and experiences within those locations. being inside for the majority of the year made it hard for me to remember how...people interact with or relate to the spaces around them. so i felt like a lot of the time staying inspired was coming from places within just me that felt inauthentic. i think my writing benefits from my ability to see multiple perspectives, so i felt like a lot of dialogue or writing itself was suffering just coming from me alone. it took a lot of work to ensure that it wasnt like that. 

and then, motivation was also so hard. the internet and the news and everything about america, the planet, the everything was unrelenting and draining. we as people were privy to so much trauma this year, to the collapse and fracture of communities, lives, governments. there were several weeks at the end of may and into june where i just...couldnt. i had no energy for anything. it happened again in november after the election and the windfall of it. energetic tensions were so high it just felt so hard to push out words when things were breaking everywhere. like there were more important things i needed to focus on, and healing was one of them.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

i enjoyed the new community of writers/friends i found by writing for bts again. they challenged me and pushed me to better myself. @jamaisjoons is so inspirational in the way she generates community and encourages relationships between storytellers. doing the summer bucket list pushed me out of my hermit hole for camp nano, and i cranked out molotov cocktail and felt so proud of it. it mattered so much to me because it was the first long thing id written after a period of feeling deceased, and it was so enjoyable because there was a sense of community around it. its easy to forget how essential having a support system in your creative community is.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

probably ciperion. words cannot express how proud i am of that story and the direction its going in. i read it back sometimes and i realize that my writing was elevated because of that piece. tbh molotov was responsible for that lift, but ciperion was just a whole other tier. ive also never written anything like that story before and it felt so good exploring the themes of seafaring and pirates. 

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

that i absolutely am someone who took for granted how inspiring the world is even if i see it as a stressor. but also that writing isnt necessarily about being inspired. its about pushing on when its hard. some of my best pieces came from that kind of push this year. 2020 felt like...a slog through most of it, but i kept pushing myself to write even when i was low and tired. i realized that some of my best writing comes from that push, when its not easy and when its difficult and i have to think harder. thats where i grow. 

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

i think im more syntax and detailed focused than i used to be. lately ive been experimenting with making the act of reading feel like pleasure. my favourite books are the ones where i read a sentence, and im moved because it felt nice to read or it felt powerful. the sentence itself had power, not the image it was trying to convey. somehow separate, if that makes sense. theres a lot i need to learn before i could go off comfortably and try to write a book, and this is what ive been trying to master. my attention to detail has grown, and sometimes i think thats a detriment. i think sometimes im too detailed and i dont leave my reader enough power on their own. im still finding that balance, but i think im pleased right now with what im trying to push myself to master.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

ive had two books in my mind forever. one was originally being written as a fanfic in a different fandom before i stopped and realized its too big and so much more important, and is worth being a book id like to write. if i wrote an opus like this it would actually be a book id submit to publishers but ~

- hundreds of years in the future, society has learned how to cure most diseases. for those we cannot, the sick person can be cryogenically frozen for a period of time until a cure is found. there is, however, a limit to the length of time they are frozen. no one has ever been frozen for over 100 years, and the main character is a scientist embarking on the experiment to do just that. it is, effectively, time travel. the main character is rash, selfish, sarcastic - not a very nice person; invested in their work and science and little else. they freeze themselves and wake up in the future. during their time in rehab they have to confront the horror theyve made of themselves, the horror people have made of the future, learn to be vulnerable. they end up falling in love with another scientist etc etc. theres so much more to this story and the world is enormous. one day ill revisit it

- a fictional play on orpheus in the underworld where a female main character’s brother was sold by their mother to the goddess of the underworld (helena instead of hades) for eternal youth. the gods all live in a hotel (the concept of this main thing is being used in elysian fields but its not remotely the same) after they were removed from the heavens. main character (ophelia) must gather several totems from the gods to prove her worth and survive her trip into the underworld to rescue him. id like to not focus on a woman finding romance, and instead a woman finding herself, her strength, her devotion to family, her power, and connecting with her history.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

this year id like to find balance, like i mentioned above, with my need for detail and my trust in my readers. the balance between detail and dialogue. i want to try to condense my writing again so not everything is a goddamn series. the ideas i have are huge and thats great but i need to remember how to parse things again, while still maintaining impact.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

i want more community, in general. as a multi fan, i see pockets in the kpop fandom where it exists and im well and truly aware that its recently become incredibly hard to foster on the exo side. ill just say that. maybe i dont witness it or its happening amongst blogs i havent found or have not found me. i want to see less dialogue about ‘popular blogs,’ whatever that means; less focus on notes; less worries about statistics. i want people to remember that fandom is not about numbers, and the moment you make it about that is the moment you stop having fun. i want less fear from writers regarding sharing work they read and liked, less shame around it. i want to see more vocal communication for the things people like and don’t like, more engagement and more interaction. the concept of popular blogs is so ridiculous to me, because no one has any control over the metrics. no one has control over who follows them or reads their work except the person doing the actual reading. i want people to realize they hold so much power - a person with 10k notes has as much power as a person with 2 notes because sharing is what fosters community. i want this fandom to remember to share again.

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

gosh i really love postmodernism in writing. think like mark z danielewski, who plays with the shapes of words or the act of holding a book - the physicality of it. id like to maybe write a choose your own adventure, or do something that encompasses multiple platforms. or even, more importantly, finish as still as sound and time runner. those are more reasonable goals. time runner actually is done, i just need to stop pressuring myself about it and edit it to get it up. asas, too, is largely done i just need to get my ass together. i have so many other ideas no one has ever seen i need to finish what ive started. thats a real goal.

tagging: @yehet-me-up @jamaisjoons @kyungseokie @jenmyeons @luffles424 @yoonia @shadowsremedy @chillingkoo @onherwings @inkedtae @ninibears-erigom @imdifferentshadesofpurple @readyplayerhobi @ditzymax @sugaurora @snackhobi @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @xjoonchildx @johobi and anyone else who wants to do this. as always please only do so if comfortable or you want to!

[riceccakes]

Earth, Wind, and Coffee: Chapter Four Analysis

and now the last chapter of the fic! i really had so much fun writing these analyses so i hope you’ve enjoyed too :))

i’ve got a lot to say about this last chapter too so be prepared for a long one. lets get to it, shall we?

some fun stuff before we start!

before changing the direction of the story, the last chapter of the fic was going to be Chapter 3: The Meeting, A Well Deserved Jab, and a Good Night’s Rest

so, The Meeting was going to happen, korrasami was gonna come back together and instead of the krew outing during this chapter’s A Well Deserved Jab, korrasami was gonna go out on a date. korra still would punch iroh, korra never ‘moved in’ with asami, it was just gonna be a fluffy section. A Good Night’s Rest was actually going to feature hiroshi going to asami’s apartment while korra was over and being like “who the fuck is this” and korra was gonna be upset asami didn’t tell her dad about them (as, in the og timeline, they would be dating at this point) they’d have a convo working this out, a little like how korra said she’d never understand how asami and hiroshi don’t have a great relationship in A Much Needed Conversation. korra would then go to hiroshi’s office and make that whole speech and still ask asami to go the south. this is a v summed up version, one that when i made it, i was happy with. having published what i did, i much enjoy that ending more than this one :)

i wanted a way to show that korra likes asami (obviously, this is a korrasami fic) but of course, asami spent most of this only wishing korra liked her

mako asking out korra was a late edition, one i actually really like. mako’s role in the fic is pretty minor, sorry to those of you who really love him and maybe wanted more from him. however, i am a really big fan of the fact that in lok, even after all the stupid love triangle shit, mako was able to be good friends with korrasami, so i still wanted to capture that. he’s not at all upset when korra turns him down, but rather super happy for the fact that korrasami feel the same way about each other. an even later edition to this point is the bedroom scene when korra asks asami to wait for her, i’ll mention more about this scene later cause i really love it.

and we in gooooo: (i usually try to write these following the sections of the chapter but for this analysis, im gonna go topic by topic within each section)

literary devices (diction, figurative language, etc.):

There have been better days than this one. Days where Korra blows up Asami’s phone with funny Instagram posts she finds while Asami’s at school, days where she invites Mako and Bolin over and the four of them play board games, days where Korra asks if they can go out for a walk and she excitedly explores the area around Asami’s apartment. There have been worse days than this one. Days where Korra won’t get out of bed, days where Korra won’t speak, days where Korra won’t even look at Asami and she has to see that glossed over gaze gawk out the glass window.

back again, just quoting my favorite sections. and this one, yall, this one. the mirrored writing style, the ending with alliteration, how easily it describes a passage of time i mean come on. when i wrote this i was like “yyyyaaaasssss” and i won’t deny it. the “glossed over gaze gawk out the glass window” is obvious in alliteration, one that just sounds so good, it rolls off the tongue. but, there’s actually also another one, one that’s a bit more hidden “she excitedly explores the area around Asami’s apartment” note how these both end the descriptions of korra’s bad/good days respectively, as a sort of way to frame which parts of the sentence correspond with the good days and bad days. now, going onto korra’s days, three examples of good days, three examples of bad days (that’s technically six different days right there, and it doesn’t even have to be in succession.) what i also love about this info into korra’s days is how it shows a passage of time without having to be like “it’s been a few weeks” or “after some time/a while” it doesn’t stick out, at least not to me, it’s not a jarring way to say, “hey, in the story now, time has passed since last chapter!” idk, i just am really proud of this paragraph and i wanted to point it out in its own section :)

Asami will never, ever say she’s happy that the Red Lotus attack happened, but, it’s what brought Korra to her. It’s what brought more friends to her, it’s what brought her to see her father isn’t as great and almighty as she’d grown up to believe. How could she ever thank something so horrible for bringing about all these life changing things in her life?

this sort of, existential section, was something i came up with on the toilet. (tmi? im not gonna apologize tho, this is a behind the scenes explanation of my writing and some of my best writing happens on the toilet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) any who, i didn’t want to leave any loose ends and, up until this chapter, i don’t really think i showed how asami felt about the attack and the situation and what’s happened after. also, asami being the perfectionist and analyst she is, i know she’d reflect on everything that’s happened to her in the span of about six months (give or take) and even more so, reflect on what’s happened with korra in the time they’ve known each other. it was a bit painful to write this section, it’s that sort of mentality that’s like “some horrible, horrible shit happened, but really, really good things came out of it. so, should i still hate all that horrible stuff or should i just appreciate the good things that came out of it?” (i’ve been debating this for years now with something personal and to this day, i’m not sure. i’m not sure if i’m more thankful for it all happening because of the few good moments it brought or if i wish none of it happened for the chance at some alternate reality of good things happening. anyways, i digress)

Kuvira stays silent for a moment, “When Hiroshi reaches out to you, tell him everything you said to me. Tell him everything you said when we were in your apartment after the presentation. He needs to know how you feel, he needs to know how he’s made you feel for years. Hiroshi can’t change if he doesn’t know what’s wrong and you want him to change, don’t you?”

Asami grips the steering wheel, staring at the red light in front of her. Her foot slowly pulses on and off the break, inching forward, waiting for the signal.

“I do.”

She feels the pit of her stomach churn, wondering if she could ever say all of it to her father. Kuvira isn’t wrong, she wants her father to change, but not in every way. Not in the business sense, not in the ambition sense, but rather, she wants a father, she wants to feel like the man she calls Dad really deserves the title. It pains her to say he hasn’t. The light turns green and Asami’s foot hovers over the gas pedal.

“So then you’ll tell him?”

For just a moment, her Satomobile doesn’t move but with a sharp, deep breath, Asami steps on the pedal. “I will.”

back again with our car metaphor/symbol thing! i really do love this idea of using the Satomobile as a way to show the relationship between hiroshi and asami, and how asami handles that relationship. this is from A Much Needed Conversation, some time after asami’s returned to future industries, calling kuvira in reluctant hope of knowing what her father is doing. they talk about asami telling hiroshi all this important stuff, stuff that asami’s been hesitant to bring up at all. (only after a breaking point did she finally let it out) this section has a mix of it all, diction, metaphor, along with some suspense by using line breaks. 

Her foot slowly pulses on and off the break, inching forward, waiting for the signal. / “I do.” - here’s a good example of suspense. (it continues through the rest of the excerpt) so, here was have asami, absolutely scared shitless, as she always is with her father and this subject of her life in relation to him. except, now with their time apart and what happened with the meeting, asami’s kind of got this “fuck it, whatever” mentality that goes a few different ways. “fuck it, whatever” my dad totally turned on me and was an asshole, i don’t care. “fuck it, whatever” we cut off ties, i can do whatever i want. “fuck it, whatever” i might very well do whatever it takes to get my dad back because i miss him but im also super scared as per usual. “fuck it, whatever” im not the one who needs to do anything to get him back so i won’t even think about it. there’s just a lot for asami to unpack here and in the setting of her father’s legacy, it’s even more for her. 

She feels the pit of her stomach churn...The light turns green and Asami’s foot hovers over the gas pedal. - more suspense. the light is green, green means go, but asami is waiting, thinking, hesitating. this also relates to the line earlier “waiting for the signal” well, this is the signal, the green light means go. but also, kuvira telling asami to tell hiroshi everything is also the signal to go, it’s like the push for asami to do it. she sees the signal, it’s go time, and yet “Asami’s foot hovers over the gas pedal” asami is still nervous, still scared to have this conversation with her father because she just doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

“So then you’ll tell him?” / For just a moment, her Satomobile doesn’t move but with a sharp, deep breath, Asami steps on the pedal. “I will.” - this mirrors just a few lines earlier. when kuvira asks asami to tell hiroshi everything while she’s waiting for the green light, her dialogue has a line break. for dramatic effect purposes, but also to show a sense of firmness. it’s by itself, it doesn’t need to be supported; asami really, truly means this. however here, her dialogue tag is connected to the narration its related to. even while asami confirms she’ll do this, that she’ll talk to her father, it’s hesitant, it takes a moment for her to say yes. 

what i really love is how much can be covered in such few lines. i’m not sure you all saw this when reading, ive always been very into reading/writing analysis, so i’m always looking at everything with a fine tooth comb; in my own writing, it’s no different. if you didn’t see this before, i hope learning it now gives you a different perspective if you ever choose to read my fic again :)

content (typing up loose ends, leaving breadcrumbs, additional info):

lets talk about korra

a lot happens for our girl in this last chapter. i’ll try to be concise, i tend to kind of ramble. i think what’s kind of cool, and i didn’t realize this beforehand, is that theres a speech from korra in each section. in A Well Deserved Jab, we see korra’s first time speaking at the support group meeting and what i really like about this is there’s no real big event that’s happened for her to finally be able to go up there. i feel like there’s always this one, life altering moment in stories when people need to deal with trauma or just work up the courage to do something, but in our case, it’s not like that. it’s the time and the care that’s slowly been working and helping korra for her to feel ready. it’s been a culminating process for her to get to go up there and for whatever reason, korra felt ready. let’s go a little into this speech

we finally learn more about the attack. we learn why korra’s always been picking at her wrists, the memory of the zip ties are still strong and she scratches at hopes of making the feeling go away. we also hear more about korra losing control that night, which in turn made her want to control everything with her life after the event. (lil fun-ish note while we talk about some deep stuff right now, last chapter’s first paragraph, about korra enjoying pour over coffees, was a purposeful choice. when doing pour overs, you have direct and absolute control over the coffee and how you make it, which gives korra a greater sense of comfort, because she knows she’s in charge when doing this.) my favorite part about this whole speech is right before the tail end of it, where korra says “sometimes surprises are better than plans” it was never in her plan to meet someone and find comfort and support and love and grow with it. (my headcanon is that korra just wanted to mull this over alone, sort of like in book four after the canon red lotus attack.) instead, korra met asami and the two clicked and korra could see a light at the end of her tunnel she thought would be pitch black forever. i really enjoyed getting to write this for korra.

korra’s second speech takes place in A Much Needed Conversation. another scene from the fic i wrote beforehand, i think somewhere between finishing chapter two and mulling over the decision to make the fic longer. this was sort of my cathartic, “lets yell at hiroshi for being sucky” moment. a lot of points are brought up here, all of which i believe are valid. it poses the simple, yet ever complicated question of “why?” i’ll get into hiroshi’s response in a later section, but what i’ll highlight about this speech is korra’s statement, “Now, I know that I don’t need to be saying any of this, because Asami can more than hold her own in any conversation, but I am doing this because you are hurting the woman I love, and I will not just let that happen.” its a declaration of love, love that i know is deeper than just romance but also deeper than just friendship. it’s admiration for asami being so strong, admiration for asami being so powerful and smart, korra says more about it in the speech. i tried it make so that korra wasn’t trying to control this situation with asami’s father, but rather, this was korra’s attempt at getting them to try and work something out. korra wants what’s best for asami, she wants her to get everything she wants. korra knows asami wants a better father and the most korra feels she can do is slap hiroshi (with her words) across the face and get him to realize that’s what asami wants.

korra’s third and final speech opens A Good Night’s Rest. we get just a little more about that night, i actually wrote this speech out loud. i just sort of put myself in korra’s place and started talking. my intent with this opening was to give more insight into how korra feels about asami. this is also a call back to the beginning of the chapter, about waking up asami if korra ever needs her. i took this action as a solidifying definition for asami to know “yeah, korra really does love me.” sure, in the last section, korra sort of did say it, but actions still speak louder than words. a lot of this final chapter was just showing how much korra has grown, i think i achieved that.

before we move on, i just wanted to say a lil bit about the bedroom scene where korra asks asami to wait for her. it’s a small confession that i think just says so much. another time here to show that romantic korrasami will happen, but it’s also just insight into korra and her thoughts about romancing asami. she wants it too, so badly that she almost gets into it before she’s ready. did i psych you guys out like asami, who thought she was finally going to kiss korra? it’s all in the lines, “I’m almost there...I know I am, Asami. I’ll be there soon, I need to be better. I need to be better for you.” and now, after thinking about it, i almost wasn’t gonna word it like this. what korra’s saying here is that her progression is only being done so that she can be good for asami, which, i didn’t want to convey. however, sometimes, that’s just how people think; they think, “if i have to do something, i gotta do it for someone else.” and so that’s what i’ve done with korra here, it’s just this mentality that she’s growing out of. it’s okay to have this thought process, good even, but not for every single thing you do. and i wanted korra to know that, which is why i love asami’s response, “I think you’re already great.” it’s just to remind korra, yes you can get better, you will get better. but not for asami, but for yourself, because asami already loves you the way you are.

kuvopal

breadcrumbs; that’s all i’ve really done so far with kuvopal is put lil breadcrumbs everywhere for the people who like the idea of the relationship to grasp at. is that mean of me? maybe, but i really love kuvira and opal as a couple so i wanted to keep hinting and hinting and hopefully getting you readers interested too. kuvopal has been sprinkled in since chapter two and i wanted to leave the readers with just a little ounce of hope

asami’s official introduction with opal heavily involves bolin, enough to the point where the two kiss each other on the cheek. now, of course, after reading the chapter, you know bolin and opal aren’t dating, but i wanted to stress you out a lil bit xD asami is weary of mentioning kuvira, so there’s not much we really get to see about how opal feels. opal may have wanted to talk when asami mentioned kuvira just before korra asked about spring break, but she didn’t. why didn’t she say anything? do you think she’s wanted to talk about kuvira? what about her major, child services and the foster care system, do you think kuvira influenced that, being she essentially was fostered by the beifongs? do you think we’ll ever find answers? *wink*

iroh

so obviously, we don’t like iroh. if there’s anyone in this story who doesn’t get a happy ending or a second chance, it’s him because he’s the worst. i realized we hadn’t seen too much of iroh in the previous chapters and this being the last one, i needed to really show just how not cool iroh is. the soccer game is very clearly an indication of just how conceded and rude he is. after the game, his conversation with asami is bad. he’s being invasive and inconsiderate of asami and he doesn’t care. same with at the restaurant. so, of course i wanted iroh to get his comeuppance and we have that by korra punching him.

going off of this, i didn’t want it to feel like iroh got a one and done kind of deal. he was incredibly awful to asami and his “friends” and i didn’t want this behavior to be taken lightly. so, i chose to make iroh just basically lose everything :) he loses his friends, possibly his job, i just KNOW izumi is disappointed as fuck that he’s acted like this and uncle iroh is rolling over in his grave that someone of his own blood would be like this. i wanted to address iroh in his own category because i just wanted you all to know that he is the only character not getting off easy. i really hope that how iroh’s situation turned out is good, as in, he got what he deserves.

hiroshi

hiroshi was an interesting character to go about in the final chapter. obviously, throughout the fic so far, hiroshi hasn’t been a standout father or boss. if i haven’t said it before, i’ll say it now: i always wanted hiroshi to have a second chance, ie, i wanted hiroshi to try to be better. for one, asami deserves it. she deserves a good parent who’s there for her and isn’t just obsessed with his job and the glory and empire he’s built up for himself. another reason, i believe everyone (within reason, *cough cough* not iroh *cough*) deserves a second chance. at the very least one more try, to be better, and if they’re actively trying, they’re doing better.

so hiroshi gets a bit of a wake up call from not only korra, after she so passionately scolded him in the name of her love for asami, but hiroshi also got one from asami directly. take your pick as to which conversation sparked hiroshi to call her to say goodnight. it’s an effort, and asami even says it herself, that after a while, the juice of it ran out. but kuvira said it too, it’s a start. what im trying to highlight is that no one is perfect and their ways of trying to change themself isn’t going to be perfect either.

and the kicker is hiroshi going to the south, without any other reason than to see asami. hiroshi only ever travels for future industries related business, but here he goes, without kuvira, to the south to see asami. i want to keep highlighting, asami says this is just the start. she hasn’t yet fully forgiven him, but she’s giving him the chance to be forgiven. that’s what i want to make most apparent on the topic of hiroshi and asami’s relationship: hiroshi is not getting off easy. but he’s trying, and in the words of the good place, that is what matters isn’t if people are good or bad, what matters is if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. hiroshi, in this action, coming to the south, is trying to be a better father that day than all the days before. offering up the job offer from tonraq is hiroshi trying to be a better boss that day than the day before. staying in the south to spend real, quality time with his daughter is hiroshi trying to be better that day than every day before that.

it’s all in the trying.

honorable mentions:

in the og timeline, back when korrasami was going to be a confirmed couple in the fic, after returning from the south, asami was going to go to the cafe at one in the morning while korra was working and korra was going to make her an avatar. i liked the full circle aspect at the time but really, i much prefer what i’ve posted over that og timeline.

anything i would’ve wanted to change?

i think, overall, i maybe would’ve wanted to divide chapters up differently. as i continued writing, the three sections definitely could’ve supported themselves as singular chapters. especially this final chapter, which was almost 20k words. but, in the end, i am so proud of this fic and of myself for following through and finishing it.

i lost a bit of steam towards the end of this analysis, i’ve actually had this in my drafts for almost two months. but, i think what i wanted to say, i did, and as always, if you have any comments or questions, or just wanna talk to me, do it ! i love any and all commentary on my writing :)) 

thanks for reading the analysis if you did x

[writing-royza]

Royai Week Prompt One: Letter

What’s up, my loves, I’ve only been out of the game for… six months, but it was far too long! And what a way to dive back in. Happy Royai Week to all!

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Every Five Words

For a moment, the sight of the innocuous white envelope caused her breath to freeze in her lungs. There was no postmark, meaning it had been hand-delivered to her mailbox, and in this time of Pride and Bradley practically breathing down her neck… a hand delivery became suspicious.

When she saw the name on the return address, however, her lungs thawed and air returned. Smiling to herself, she tucked the envelope from “Berthold Mangrum” inside her folded copy of the Central Times, closed the mailbox, and headed for the stairs, a scene from the not-too-distant past playing in her memory.

“Moving to Central could be the more dangerous thing we’ve ever done,” he said solemnly, the gravity of the words dampened somewhat by the fact that he was beginning to slur his words, and that they were seated on the floor of her new apartment, surrounded by boxes. “I’m not liked here, Grumman’s not liked here... I don’t think even Hughes was particularly liked.” He shook his head. “We’re going to have to be extra careful in working to get to the top. Compartmentalize information, redact files, verbal check-and-response when we talk over serious stuff... maybe codenames.”

Reaching out, Riza caught his hand and removed the wine glass from it before his gesturing as he spoke ended up with spilled alcohol or broken glass. “We already have codenames,” she reminded him, taking a sip from her own glass. She was not so far gone as he was, mostly due to the fact that she she was pacing herself to avoid that situation, but she could feel the light buzzing in her mind beginning to get stronger. “‘Elizabeth,’ ‘Jacqueline,’ ‘Kate....’”

“You have a codename,” he countered. “But I don’t. ‘The Flame Alchemist’ does not count,” he said, cutting her off with a levelled finger as she opened her mouth to say exactly that. “I need one for things that maybe the higher-ups don’t need to know about.”

“And so which one of your sisters will you be co-opting this new name from?” she countered, leaning back against a box. From the way it clinked, she suspected it contained the flatware they hadn’t been able to find at dinner time. “Madeline? Vanessa? Or maybe... as the leader, you become the leader.” She smiled with no small amount of wickedness as his eyes darted toward her. “I think you would make a very good Chris.”

“Careful. If you say that too loud, it summons her.” Apparently done his gesticulating, he retrieved his own wine glass, taking a thoughtful sip. “What if... I took the name from another part of our lives? Still one that isn’t likely to be recognized as being connected with me, but with enough significance to us to make it obvious?”

When she was safe behind her apartment door, with Hayate prancing excitedly around her feet, Riza took the envelope from its hiding place, and glanced at the name again. Her father’s name, little-known even in its connection to her, the same for ‘Mangrum;’ a simple anagram of her grandfather’s name, the two references combined together in a way that could only be Roy.

Tearing the envelope open, she left it on the counter, moving to sit on the floor with her dog, who immediately climbed into her lap to shower her face in welcome-home licks. Craning her neck to see past his ears, she caught the first few words, enough to recognize the clue that the paragraphs held a message within a message.

“Hayate.” She used the special voice; the command voice, and he instantly froze, watching her intently. “Guard.”

The little Shiba gave a sharp yap, nearly deafening her with its closeness before scrambling off her lap and beginning at slow patrol of the apartment. Riza still wasn’t sure how well a dog’s sense for the supernatural did at detecting nosy Homonculi, but she was willing to bet that if Pride came sniffing around, Hayate would sense him coming.

Getting up, she retrieved a pen from beside the telephone, and settled at the kitchen table, spreading the letter in front of her. ‘Dear Riza,’ it started, innocently enough. ‘Five weeks since we last spoke.’ Pen at the ready and dog on alert, she skimmed the letter quickly.

Dear Riza:

Five weeks since we last spoke. I thought I would miss drinking, but, I tell you, turns out its not so bad; it’s just very much a battle royale of will. I’ll probably have to call ‘uncle’  and give in soon, the question is just how soon. I probably shouldn’t do, but I promise that I’m okay. The new job’s fine; I’m trying out some new ideas, some methods, some plans. It’s all starting to form up.

Ironworkers union might strike soon. “We’re all a team!” they say. It’s getting old. They’re no team, just friends getting the short stick from management. There’s a wage war, basically. I think a bartender earns more. Nobody will pass the picket line, so you know they’ll win soon.

Information kiosk being built downtown. Men started construction, getting it all set up. It’s a fine idea; good for tourists, kids getting lost, old people too.

I remember that you love Xingese food. I told you about the new noodle take out place, right? They care a lot about customers.

Whoops, five minute break is over; better get back to work. Have a good one.

Sincerely, Berthold Mangrum

She double-checked the letter and her interpretation of the code, writing each word as she found it in the margins of the paper. Hayate still prowled about, his claws clicking lightly on the wooden floor, occasionally stopping to sniff some innocuous item or other. By the time she finished, Roy’s message was loud and clear.

Five weeks since we last spoke. That was the code clue. A number in the first sentence to give her the basis for deciphering whatever he’d hidden in more innocuous sentences.

I thought I would miss drinking, but, I tell you, turns out its not so bad; it’s just very much a battle royale of will. I’ll probably have to call ‘uncle’ and give in soon, the question is just how soon. I probably shouldn’t do, but I promise that I’m okay. The new job’s fine; I’m trying out some new ideas, some methods, some plans. It’s all starting to form up.

She wrote quickly. miss you so much/will call soon/how do/ I’m fine/new plans form- She frowned, the sentence not making sense until she checked the next paragraph.

Ironworkers union might strike soon. “We’re all a team!” they say. It’s getting old. They’re no team, just friends getting the short stick from management. There’s a wage war, basically.

new plans/form strike team/old friends from war

Now that made sense. He had made mention once of how his squad had shown a little appreciation when the fighting was over, how they liked his command style, and especially that he worked to keep them safe in a battle, instead of sending them headlong into danger. She paused, trying to remember all the names he had told her, but knew she fell short. She could recall Damiano, Charlie… Dino was a possibility, though she wasn’t sure.

I think a bartender earns more. Nobody will pass the picket line, so you know they’ll win soon.

Information kiosk being built downtown. Men started construction, getting it all set up. It’s a fine idea; good for tourists, kids getting lost, old people too.

The part of her mind that wasn’t concentrating on deciphering his code was left free to observe that, to anyone else reading this letter, it would sound scattered, distracted, rambling…. Probably exactly how Bradley and the Homonculi thought he would be after being stripped of his most essential staff and being placed under careful surveillance.

bartender pass you Information/men all fine/ - good, that was a load off of her mind – kids too

So it was his intention to pass her information through his mother; probably the safest best. Chris knew how to keep her mouth shut and keep from being noticed. But the next part…. Riza frowned again. Kids? Did he maybe mean Elicia and hadn’t found a way to use the singular form — oh. Her shoulders relaxed in relief she didn’t know she had been hoping for; the Elrics were all right. Spirits rising, she turned her attention to the last couple of lines… and felt them take off as though rocket-propelled.

I remember that you love Xingese food. I told you about the new noodle take out place, right? They care a lot about customers.

Four simple words that somehow felt like a steadying hand on her shoulder, or a soft, soothing kiss to her forehead. love you/take care

The last line, ‘Whoops, five minute break is over; better get back to work. Have a good one.’ was the indicator that the code was finished, with no more to follow until the next letter. Riza kept her eyes on those last four decoded words as she stood, moving toward the kitchen sink. Reaching into a drawer beside it, she withdrew a small card box, and regretfully set the letter into the metal basin.

She struck the match and let it fall, consuming the evidence… and letting the flames burn the words into her memory.

[ayyyez]

Hi! I'm so into FiOE, I love it so much! I was wondering if maybe you couls write about Asana being confronted by both Madara and Tobirama, to chose. I know it seems to illogical for both characters but hey they're so in love with her their lost their brains haha. Love can do that to a person. Thank you so much for open request again!

a/n: bless you for sending me a request with Asana ahhhh I love her so much and I’m glad other people seem to as well! Also loved doing this request! So thank you <3  warnings: none!  Links: Fire in Our Eyes (Tobirama/Asana[OC] fic)  + The Fire Within (Madara/Asana[OC] Oneshot)

Real talk, if these two came to her, at their wits end and told her to choose (in the early days of courtship) she would laugh. And then she would recollect herself and say ‘Alright I can see the two of you are very serious about this.’ She pauses and it tortures them. ‘I choose neither.’ Then she would go back to whatever it was she was doing.

That’s only if like she isn’t invested enough with them though. Like they haven’t kissed, fked, had some deep deep conversations, missing that and she is just like ‘You know what I don’t have time for this.’ lmao.

But let’s say she is invested. Not just invested but there’s such deep emotional and physical connection between her and both of them she is in a position where she has to pick. 

She will avoid them overtime. Hopes the situation sorts itself out. She is way too busy running a hospital she can’t deal with her personal life. They enjoy arguing maybe they can work it out. 

But an overnighter working and lack of sleep later she realises she cares about both of them and that is not fair. Fck. Now she has to make the decision. She always has to make the decision. Can life give her break for five minutes please? 

Asana tries to think about it logically. She will pick apart each scenario without mercy. She even tries to think how the village would benefit and who is most suited to be her partner and make the village better.

Its a fools errand though. She knows she can’t be logical. (Would honestly choose both if she could but she knows they would never accept that. So she makes her choice. 

FIOE Universe and she chooses Tobirama

Asana is most stubborn in this scenario. There is something about bowing to Tobirama’s wishes when, instead of telling her how he feels, he tells her to choose. What kind of confession is that? He got off the hook too easily. 

She trusts Tobirama with a lot of things but she cannot trust him with her heart until he proves worthy. Deep down she knows how he feels but she needs him to say. For once in his life he needs to do things not his way.

So being Asana, she goes and confronts him at his home. He has a feeling he knows why she is there but doesn’t know her decision. So, he lets her in and waits for her to talk.

She stares at him in silence for a while - for good measure. Then she gets straight to the point. ‘You want me to choose—to choose you. Why?’ This throws him through a loop.

Tobirama is a little on edge but the only thing he reveals is a little bit of shock. She was always so blunt. Refreshing but taxing on his heart. 

‘I would have thought that obvious.’ That’s his answer and he hopes it’s good enough. He isn’t going to get down on his knees and recite poetry. He isn’t going to list the ways he loves her. He has feelings for her and it is as simple and obvious as that.

But Asana doesn’t take that. She can’t. How can he expect her too when all he as given her is circumstance and vague inclinations. For all she knew he could just be doing this so Madara didn’t get her. She knew that wasn’t the case but his words have yet to clear that theory.

‘Pretend I’m simple minded then.’ Asana took a step toward him. ‘Pretend like I can’t read you.’ She took another step. ‘Pretend that you actually want to fight for me.’ She is in front of him, looking at him with such dare and intensity he almost falls forward. 

‘And what exactly would that accomplish?’ He asked. He met her stare head on but he knew his eyes revealed everything. He knew it couldn’t hide from her but he chose to try anyway. 

‘Everything you have ever wanted.’ Asana replied, softly. ‘That’s what you’ll accomplish—that’s what you’ll gain.’ 

‘You claim to know what I want?’ His resolve was breaking.

‘No, you did.’ Asana smiled. ‘”I would have thought that obvious.”’

His gaze snapped away. ‘Never before have I been so compromised.’ He let out a heavy sigh and turned back to her. ‘When I’m with you I think things, I feel things I would never before...’ he clenched his jaw and looked back at her. ‘You’ve ruined me, Asana.’ 

Asana’s lips parted, letting out the faintest gasp. Her eyes flickered down for a second, betraying her own vulnerability. Then they met his again with such assurance, in her self, this moment that it almost frightened Tobirama. 

‘I’ve ruined you.’ She sighed. ‘As far as confessions go that has got to be the worst I’ve ever heard.’ She can see the uncertainty in his gaze. ‘But you were right about one thing, Tobirama.’ She paused. ‘I can read you and I know what those words mean—to you anyway.’ 

Asana reached up and brought a hand to his cheek, fingertips lightly caressing his face. ‘They mean that you chose me, as I do you.’ And before he even has the chance to process those words she kisses him.

The truth was they didn’t really choose each other, their hearts did and against their better judgement. 

Asana chooses Madara

Asana did what she does best. She broke into Madara’s home and sat on the table, waiting for his return. And she didn’t have to wait long because before she knew it he was walking through the door. 

Madara stopped in the centre of the room with a smirk. ‘No sake today?’ He said, trying to hold her eye. ‘Am I to take that this as bad news then?’

With a sultry smile, Asana pushed herself off the table and walked towards him. ‘Are you expecting bad news?’ 

‘Well, you do have a choice to make.’ His smile faded. ‘Or do you wish to torture us forever?’ 

Asana took a long moment to look him up and down. When her eyes met his again, she bore a serious expression. ‘And who was the one who gave me such an ultimatum?’ She paused. ‘You want me to choose you. Why?’ 

The hint of a smile crossed Madara’s lips. He knew what her visit meant but he wasn’t assured enough to take it as succession on his part. He also didn’t want to scare her away. If there was one thing he knew about Asana, it was that she wasn’t one to be chased by just any suitor. 

‘I was party to the ultimatum,’ he paused, his gaze finding her lips. ‘Because I want you.’ His gaze snapped back to hers. There is a hint of surprise on her face followed by a small smile. 

‘We all want things, Madara.’ She frowned a little. ‘But we don’t always get what we want. Not by simply wanting it anyway.’ The frown disappeared with the thought. ‘Perhaps the better question is, why do you want me? And why there is a reluctance in your eyes when I ask such a question.’ 

‘I’m sure you want similar things for similar reasons.’ Madara’s tone grows serious. ‘But one can never be sure of such things. So you will forgive my initial reluctance.’ He stepped closer. 

‘Are we doomed to go in sentenced circles until one of us gets to the point, finally?’ Asana whispered, lifting her chin a little to get a better angle at his gaze. 

‘Very well then I concede.’ Madara gave a playful huff. ‘I will always concede against you and you know it.’ He leant forward. ‘Because I am yours, whether you will have me or not.’ 

Asana observed his expression, noted the undeniable honesty that came from the rawness of the moment. She let go a shaky breath. ‘Well then, I guess that answers both our questions.’ And then he kisses her again and again, until he is certain that it isn’t an illusion.

[calumance]

Wake up, Sunshine - Part 1

Warnings: cursing, anxiety attacks, car accident, mostly fluff though.

Summary: Addy just moved back home after breaking up with her long time boyfriend, and she runs into her high school best friend, who thinks it would be a great idea to set her two friends up, but Addy has a secret that she wants to keep hidden as long as she possibly can.

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: So, I wrote this three part series for #disabled!sos day which came from the brilliant mind of @skinnylukes​. The idea behind this is to encourage more disability-inclusive writing in the 5SOS community. I was honored when Carly asked me to write something for her event and I hope this brings happiness to at least someone who may be struggling right now. I would also like to take a moment to explain the title. It comes from the song All Time Low just released, and it’s all about knowing there is someone out there who loves you just the way you are, which is something that is stressed in this story. I hope you all enjoy, and I love you all so much. 😊

           The bell of the coffee shop rang as I walked through the door, a small part of me regretting coming here, but it had been so long. Off to the left I found the familiar face of my high school best friend, the one who invited me here. She lifted her head and made eye contact with me. Her eyes lit up and she started waving frantically with a large smile on her face. She pulled herself out of the seat and ran towards me, arms stretched out. When she finally reached me, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in for the tightest hug I’ve received in a long time. As she rocked me back and forth, expressing how happy she is that I came I thought back to how I got here.

           It was rough break up, I had moved away from home for him, and he went and destroyed everything we had. The pain in my chest wasn’t to go away staying where I was, so I went home. The only place I had to go to was back to my parents, and of course they would force me to go to the grocery store with them. The sun was bright as I stood outside the store, getting a breath of fresh air. Car rides make my anxiety sky rocket ever since that day. My phone had vibrated in my pocket, causing me to pull it out, but as I was looking at the screen, I heard my name being called by a voice that was not my mom’s.

           My eyebrows pulled together in confusion as I looked around for the voice calling my name. Suddenly, Crystal, my best friend from high school was making her way toward me. She was as beautiful as I remember, she had grown into her looks a lot better than I had. We were always together when we were in high school, but after I graduated and moved away, we lost all communication. It was a huge surprise that she would say anything to me since it’s been about eight years since we last saw each other.

           “It’s been forever!” She exclaimed, a man with blonde hair covered by a baseball cap turned backwards following her. “How are you? I heard about what happened.” I held up my hand to stop her from talking about it. The thought about what happened still sends me reeling, makes my heart race, makes me break down and cry. After thinking about how to answer her question, I just shrugged. In the past few years, nothing has been great. How was I supposed to tell someone I was good? “Listen, we should grab a coffee soon, catch up, I miss you.” My heart skipped a beat, I missed her too, we had fun back in the day. “Want to give me your phone number and we can meet soon?” With a nod of acceptance, she handed me her phone and I plugged it in. After the interaction, I found a seat on a bench outside, not wanting to even step foot in the store.

           About two days later she had sent me the official invite to meet her for coffee. She wanted to meet at a little-known shop about thirty minutes away from where my parents live. The thought of having to drive that far made my muscles tense, but still I accepted the invite due to the overwhelming need to reconnect with my old best friend and return to a “normal” life.

             After I grabbed my coffee from the barista, I sat in the chair across from Crystal, a huge smile stretched across her lips. As I took my first sip of coffee, Crystal cleared her throat, “I didn’t know you had moved back.” She sounded hurt that I hadn’t told her. I didn’t tell anyone, just my parents. The reason I came back was too embarrassing. There was no reason I should start running around telling the world I was back.

           My eyebrows raised, and I pulled my lips into my mouth the get every drop of the sweet nectar of the coffee. “I didn’t tell anyone, just my parents since I had nowhere else to go.” A shrug fell off my shoulders as I looked at her. Her face showed concern, the same look my parents give me every time I do or say anything. It was an annoying look.

           She leaned forward and laced her hands around the cup in front of her, “What happened with you and Alex? I thought you two were going to get married, or at least that was what it seemed like when you two moved away from here.” I could tell she was reluctant to ask the question, but there was a look in her eye that told me the question was eating away at her.

           A devilish smiled stretched across my face, “We were going to get married. We were engaged for a year and a half, I had planned almost the entire wedding. That’s when I found out he had been fucking some drop-dead gorgeous redhead from his work for a year.” My shoulders pulled up to my ears as I took another drink of my coffee, wishing it had more of an impact on my thoughts. Maybe I should start putting whiskey in my coffee.

           Crystal’s jaw dropped, hanging open like I had just dropped a bomb. She sat back and breathed out. “Wow,” was all she managed to get out. Silence fell over us for a very awkward minute. My bones ached as I knew she wanted to ask me about the accident, but I wasn’t going to give in. Nothing in this world would make me want to talk about it, unless it was to a doctor. “What are you doing tomorrow night?” She questioned, surprising me a little.

           My throat worked as I swallowed the large gulp of coffee. My eyes darting to my cup, then back to Crystal. “I don’t believe I am doing anything, why?” I sounded skeptical, but I had every right to be. We haven’t seen each other in a long time, and now she’s inviting me for coffee, and probably to something else.

           A smirk appeared on her lips, “My boyfriend, that’s who was with me at the store the other day, and I are having a little get together at our house. I think you should come. There will be drinks, and music, and an overall good time.” How’d I guess? She hasn’t changed much since high school, she was always the one dragging me to things I didn’t want to go to. Even though I never wanted to go to the things she would take me to, I would go because she asked me.

           I guess I haven’t changed either, because I agreed to go to her get together. When she had texted me the details she told me to ‘dress cute.’ I wasn’t even sure what cute was anymore. A normal outfit for me was boot cut leggings and a hoodie. Somehow, I managed to pull out a floor length floral dress I had in the back of my closet. Before I put it on, I sat on my bed, hands clenching the edge of the bed. My heart racing, my eyes flicker to my right leg, or lack thereof. My eyes squeeze shut, trying not to think about the doctor telling me the leg had to go.

             “Your lower leg is completely shattered, there is no way to repair the bones. We’re going to have to amputate.” He pointed to the sheet hanging in front of the white light. The picture caused my stomach to twist. Not a single fragment of bone in my leg was connected anymore. The fragments that were in there were nowhere near each other. It was as if I was looking at bone soup inside my leg. The tears welled in my eyes, I wasn’t sure if it was from the new or from the pain. All I knew was that I wanted all of this to be over, I wanted everything to go back to normal, and that just want never going to happen. A sob escaped my throat, no one there to comfort me beside the doctor who just told me that he was going to have to cut my leg off.

             All I wanted to do was scream, but if I screamed, my parents would come running. I wanted my leg back, I wanted to not be living with my parents. Why did all of this have to happen to me. The palms of my hands pressed against my eyes and I held back the scream sitting in my throat. Nothing was going to get better if I just sat here in my misery. So, I reached over and grabbed my robotic looking prosthetic and secured it. Even though the dress called for some cute shoes, I pulled on a pair of converse. Converse easily hid the fake foot on my right side, flats could never do that. With a large sigh, and a heavy weight taking its place in my stomach, I headed towards the address Crystal sent me.

           After I got out of the Uber and it drives away, I paced, calming my heart rate from the anxiety attack I get every time I sit in a car. Anger takes over most the time, because I know car rides are a necessity, my heart never fails to run rampant. “Come on heart, chill out.” I mumbled to myself, shaking my hands in front of me to stop the nerves. It took a while, but I was finally able to compose myself and walk towards the front door. Reluctantly, I pressed the button for the doorbell and I took a step back, waiting.

           When the door finally opened, I was a bit disappointed to not be greeted by Crystal, instead it was the blonde-haired man she referred to as her boyfriend. A smiled stretched across his face, “You must be Crystal’s friend. She said your name was Addy?” He had an accent, but with such a short sentence, I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. I nodded, still a bit shaky from the car ride over.  “Come in, come in.” He waved his hand towards himself, and I hesitantly walked through the door.

           He shut the door behind me and I looked around. It was a beautiful house, a house that I would actually considering killing to live in. “My name’s Michael, I’m Crystal’s boyfriend. She’s told me a lot about you.” Hopefully not everything. He held out his hand waiting for a handshake. A heavy breath caused my chest to rise as I placed my hand in his, him giving it a hefty shake. “Everyone is out back, follow me.” He started walking, and I followed behind him, covering the slight limp.

Since the accident, I’ve gotten walking nearly down. Most of the time I walk normally unless I’m tired, or something causes me to not think about how I’m walking. Running, on the other hand, is different. The only way I get my mind off things is running, and even though I do it every morning at five, I still can’t get the motion right. The doctor told me that eventually I would move like it was my normal attached leg, but it would take some time. Thinking about that while running frustrates me, when is that time going to come? All I want to do is feel normal again, but because I can’t get the motion of running down, I feel like that may never happen.

Crystal let out a squeal as Michael and I passed through the threshold into their backyard. My feet stopped, freezing me in my spot. While still holding onto her drink, she threw her arms around me, kissing my cheek. No, she wasn’t drunk, that’s literally just the kind of person she is. I couldn’t help but smile, which felt weird, smiling hadn’t been my thing in a long time. “Do you want a drink? We have all kinds of stuff. Oh! I need to introduce you to everyone.” She grabbed my hand and pulled hard, causing my to almost fall flat on my face.

“Crystal!” I exclaimed, a little louder than I should’ve. Everyone looked at me, I swallowed. Her eyes were wide as she got closer to me, “Crystal, I can’t,” I licked my lips trying to find my words. My eyes closed, ignoring the ones on me, “You can’t just pull me like that.” When I opened my eyes, her hand was over her mouth, realizing what damage she could’ve caused.

           She slowly removed her hand, keeping it a few inches from her face, “Oh my god, Addy, I’m so sorry. Did I,” My head shoot back and forth stopping her from finishing her question. No, she didn’t hurt me, no she didn’t break anything, but she could have. “I’m so sorry.” My chest felt heavy as I thought about how bad of an idea is was to actually come here. She must’ve read my thoughts because she wrapped her arms around me and pleaded for me not to leave.

           My chest fell as I let out a sigh, “It’s fine, I’ll stay. You said you wanted to introduce me to everyone.” She pulled away from me and nodded, a perfect smile stretched across her face. As her hand found mine again, she waited for me to take the first steps and then she directed me where to go.

           We stopped in front of a tall dark-haired man with a square, manly face, but a sweet smile. “This is Ashton, Ashton this is my friend Addy, we were best friends back in high school and we recently reconnected.” Ashton waved at me, and I waved back. He was standing next to a sandy blonde-haired man with a scruffy beard and a smile that could make any girls knees weak. “That’s Luke, and the girl in the pool behind him is his girlfriend, Sierra.” Luke lifted and hand and held it out, asking for a hand shake.

           We shook hands, and he held onto it for a second, “Is your name actually Addy, or is that short for something?” Luke asked, the same accent as Michael’s falling from his lips.

           “Adeline, my full name is Adeline, but not a single person in the world calls me that, not even my parents. Pretty sure they regret giving me that name.” Luke laughed and nodded in acknowledgement. Behind Luke, I hear the water of the pool swash around and I see a tanned, bleach blonde-haired man climbing out of the water, using the side as leverage. He turned my way and I think I stopped breathing.

           His tanned skin twinkled in the sunlight, creating a glow around him. His tattooed chest flexed as he grabbed the towel not far from him. The muscles in his biceps flexed as he placed the towel over his face and neck, patting his skin dry. He dropped the towel and started walking towards us, water still dripping from his black swim shorts. He smiled a smile that could brighten a dark room. My heart was beating fast, and suddenly my mouth was incredibly dry.

           “Calum! This is my friend Addy, the one I was telling you about.” The one she was telling him about? I finally peeled my eyes off the man coming towards us and stared daggers at Crystal. She caught sight of my look and shrugged.

           He stopped a few steps away from us, letting the water drip, excusing himself as the water dripped toward my dress. “I’m sorry, I guess I should’ve dried off a bit more before coming over. Maybe I’ll go change before we meet properly.” Every word I knew got caught in my throat as he walked past me, flashing me another bright smile. I felt like collapsing, but suddenly Crystals grip on me, and her quiet giggle caused me to come out of my thoughts.

           “Crystal, can we have a quick chat. Somewhere private?” She nodded, still trying not to laugh at how ridiculous I’m acting. She pulled me inside the house, and into a bedroom I assumed was hers and Michael’s. She motioned for me to sit on the bed, and I did so, “Who was that?”

           She sat next to me hard enough to cause the bed to bounce. “That was Calum. He and Michael met a long time ago. He’s one of my favorite friends of Michael’s, he’s super sweet.” Crystal took a long drink of mixed drink she had in her glass, “And I also told him a lot about you. He’s really excited to meet you.” Excited to meet me? Oh, hell, what did she tell him? Did she tell him about my accident? Did she tell him about my ex? Does he want to meet me because I’m a nice charity case? Crystal’s eyebrows pulled together in anger and confusion. My eyes widened as I realized I asked these out loud. “I only told him the things that were necessary. He doesn’t know about your accident, he doesn’t know about Alex, he just knows that you’re one of my best friends, who just happens to be drop-dead gorgeous.”

           A sarcastic chuckle escaped my chest, “Crystal, you were, and always will be, a thousand times prettier than me. Also, I’m a freak. I only have one and a half legs.” That seemed to upset Crystal, the look on her face told me she wanted me to shut up. So, I did.

           She set her drink down on the table and then turned towards me. “You are not a freak because you lost your leg in a car accident, and you are definitely prettier than me. He seemed genuinely interested in you when I was talking to him yesterday. I think he wants to get to know you more. You should give him a chance, yeah?” Although I was terrified, I was willing to give him a chance.

           When we made it back outside, Calum was already back. He was wearing a pair of black joggers, a black sweat shirt, and a beanie that covered his blonde hair. Crystal brought me up to him and he smiled, and my heart pounded. “Sorry, Calum, we just went to the bathroom. Girls travel in pairs, you know.” She’s always been good at covering my anxiety. Maybe that’s why we were always such good friends.

           He pulled his lips down and waved his hand, “It’s not a problem. Anyway, I hope I didn’t get your dress wet. It looks very nice.”

           Even though he complimented me, I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. “It’s not a problem,” I cleared my throat trying to hide my complete and utter nervous breakdown. “It’s not that special of a dress, I think I got it at Target.”

           He chuckled, a smirk crawling across his lips, “That’s a good looking dress for something you found at Target.”

           My eyes wandered down to my dress. Why was he talking so much about my dress? Was he just as nervous as I was? “Thank you.” I choked the words out. Why was this so awkward. I caught sight of Crystal behind Calum. She was making motions to urge me to go for it, to talk to him. My cheeks flushed red, hoping that no one else saw the motions. I wasn’t sure this was the right thing to be doing this quietly after a horrible break up. I tucked a lock of my hair behind my ears and looked at the ground.

           He shifted awkwardly in front of me, putting his hands in his pockets. “Do you want something to drink?” He finally asked me, breaking the awkward silence. After I nodded, he smiled and motioned for me to follow him. He passed by me and I looked at Crystal who was holding up two thumbs. Even though Crystal had a good feeling about this, I didn’t.

           Calum grabbed the liquor and started pouring. “Mind if I make you my specialty?” I shook my head back and forth, it’s been a long time since I drank. The accident was caused by a drunk driver, and even though I don’t drive, the idea still scared me. He poured a few hard liquors into the class and then added a splash of pineapple juice on the top. He flicked a straw into the drink and I bit my bottom lip. Considering how much alcohol he had poured into that glass, it wasn’t going to be long before I felt it. “Tell me about yourself, Addy.”

           I took the drink from him and I felt a knot in my throat. What did he want to know? “What do you want to know?” My eyebrows pulled together, I needed to stop asking my internal thoughts out loud.

           “Anything. Where are you from? What are your hobbies? What do you do for a living? Favorite animal? You know, all of the ‘hey we just met’ kind of questions.” He cracked open and black cherry white claw and took a drink.

           The ice in my drink clinked as I stirred it with the straw. “My full name is Adeline Davis, I go by Addy. I’m pretty sure my parents stopped calling me Adeline when I was really little. I’m from the same place Crystal is from. We went to high school together, we were best friends, until I had to go a ruin it and move to a different state with this guy I was madly in love with. That didn’t end up well, so now I’m back in town. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I live with my parents. I have a degree in graphic design, but since I’ve been back I haven’t been able to find a job in the field quite yet. I haven’t been back long enough to really look. Um, yeah. That’s about it.” I took a sip of my drink and made a face. It was incredibly strong.

           He laughed at my face, my stomach involuntarily did a flip. “Sorry, sometimes I’m a little heavy handed. I’m sorry to hear that your last relationship didn’t work out. That’s cool that you’ve known Crystal for so long. I’ve only known her as long as Michael and she have been together. Four years now?”

           I raised my eyebrow, taking another drink, getting a little more used to the amount of alcohol. “She’s been with him half as long as I’ve been gone.” And as long as it’s been since I was in the accident. “We kind of lost contact while I was gone. It was kind of a toxic relationship. I lost contact with a lot of people that I deeply cared about.” The mood between Calum and I got a bit somber, so I stood up straight and smiled, “But I’m here now, and I’m reconnecting with my friends and my life, so it’s not all that bad.” Minus the fact that my life will literally never be the same again.

           Calum smiled with me, a nod. “I’m glad you’re here, too.” He raised his eyebrows and walked past me, back into Michael’s backyard. I couldn’t move, what did that mean? After a couple of seconds, I turned on my left foot and went back out into the backyard. Calum had taken a seat next to Michael and Crystal. Crystal motioned to sit in the chair next to her. Why did everything have to involve sitting? I took a deep breath and walked over to the seat and sat down, immediately crossing my left leg over my right one to hopefully hide the metal bend in my right leg.

           We spent the whole night talking, the best part of the whole thing was that my accident hadn’t been brought up once. Now it was time to go home, and I pulled my phone out to call an Uber. As I waited, I talked to Crystal, but when my phone buzzed, telling me the Uber was there, Calum caught me. “Uh, sorry,” He laughed nervously. “I didn’t get a chance to get your phone number. I’d like to hang out with you again.”

           Honestly, I was confused. Why did he want to hang out with me? This was probably the most awkward evening I’ve had in a long time. He smiled and held his phone out, the number pad opened. If I hadn’t needed to catch my ride, I would’ve protested, but instead, I grabbed his and typed in my number. After I handed it back to him, I waved and made my way out the front door towards the Uber. My palms became sweaty as I grabbed the handle and I had to take a deep breath before sitting in the car. Maybe hanging out with him more would make the interaction less awkward?

Part 2 | Part 3

[ladybugsfanfics]

Shut Up And Kiss Me [14/?] | Tom Hiddleston

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: pining, angst, implications of sex,

Summary: You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with.

A/N: so this is late, and i havent posted anything in like two weeks, but school’s crazy and im kinda tired but this is finally here and i’ve reached 1k followers. I don’t know if i’ll make something out of it but thank you to every one who is following me and i hope you enjoy this part ^_^

Little goes through Tom’s mind when he wakes. Surprise catches him at the feel of someone lying in his arms, and more surprise at the unfamiliar room he’s in. Tom looks down to see who’s cuddling into him, whose fanning breath spreads across his chest.

His breath gets punched out of him at the sight of Y/N. Her hair tangled, arm draped over his bare torso, and heavy breathing mixing with the hammering of his heart.

Oh, God. He didn’t…?

But Tom knows he did. He didn’t drink. The events of the previous night flashes through his mind. How she’d asked if he could drive her home, how she’d needed help to get inside, how he’d watched her fiddle with her keys before getting open the door. He remembers the way his chest beat so rapidly, waiting for that inevitable goodbye that was doomed to come.

Everything stopped working inside of him when she pulled him into her doorway, when she tugged at his tie and made the motion to look up. Adrenaline had coursed through his body when his lips met hers. The five years of pining and trying to get over the painful breaking of his heart had been swept to the side. When she’d deepened the kiss with her arms wrapped around his neck and a jump before her legs were wrapped around his waist and his hand had come to cup her ass and they’d moved to the bedroom, lips still locked together, had been the most intense moment he’d ever experienced.

The picture he saved in his mind of her naked body in bed pops up and Tom has to shake away the thought.

This isn’t happening. Y/N had been drunk. She is with Chris. It was a mistake, clearly. A drunken one.

And he’d made the mistake of indulging.

It takes him only a second to make up his mind. He does his best to peel himself away from her, gaze flickering to her every moment just to make sure she doesn’t wake up. Boxers on, trousers on, shirt wrongly buttoned, a quick grasp of socks and jacket, and he double checks his wallet and phone are still there, and knowing he has his belongings, he soundlessly slips out the door.

Only a week left before Christmas break. Only a week where things might be slightly awkward between the two of them. Only a week to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do now.

This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen.

---

Awkwardness is the least of Tom’s worries, apparently.

When he makes it to the classroom before class on Tuesday (and mind you, he hasn’t seen Y/N since before they fell asleep Saturday evening), he’s met with the pleasurable yet very frightening bright smile Y/N sends him.

“Hey,” she says, eyes lighting up with a passion Tom hasn’t ever seen before. “We haven’t talked that much lately, but I thought we had some time now.” She hands him a paper. “I wanted to talk about the upcoming exam, and how to best prepare them to get the best possible grades.”

Tom takes the paper she hands, and sees a list of suggestions. The title reads Tips To Get The Best Exam Results. He nods slightly. “Sure, sounds good.” His voice sounds weird to his ears, lighter than normal. He coughs slightly, and tries again. “Did you have anything specific in mind that we should focus on?”

Nope, still no good.

But if Y/N noticed, she doesn’t say anything, the smile still brightly lighting up her face. “Just thought we could go off the list, really. Something I threw together on Sunday. Already had a rough draft, but you know, can’t stop working.” She tips her head a little, almost a shrug but not really one.

He’s tempted to ask her; if he did something wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her apartment? Maybe they should talk about it?

Tom looks down to check his watch. Still fifteen minutes until any students are supposed to make an appearance. That’s more than enough time to talk about the incident, more than enough, only how does he start―

“Tom?” Y/N waves a hand in front of his face, her own searching for a response.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, what?”

“Just asked if there was anything you thought I’d missed. I want your input.”

There’s something so completely foreign to that sentence that Tom freezes. Even if they were making progress with how well they got along, he’d never actually thought she’d willingly ask for his input. Especially not after he left her apartment after a (great) round of sex and hasn’t actually talked to her since―as far as he knows, most people don’t like that.

However, he has to pull himself out of his head. So he shakes his head (no, he has not read the list) and just gives her a weak smile. “I’m sorry, I’m not really present today.”

“That’s okay,” she says, smile back on her face, though more sweet and less bright. Almost bordering on saccharine. “Can’t always be present, can we? I bet you had a pretty rough Sunday, too. Might not have had that good a Monday either?”

Tom raises a brow. “Rough Sunday? Were you very hungover?” Yes, he avoids the questions. He needs to know if there’s a possibility she doesn’t remember. Of course, that would only make matters worse because he would feel compelled to tell her.

Y/N scrunches her nose a little. “Not that much. I didn’t drink a lot, with the exceptions of the shots I took, but honestly, without them I’d never dared to kiss you either, so… kinda thankful.” And as she talks, her demeanor changes. Tom starts to wonder if she wasn’t being passive aggressive all this time with her sweet voice and big smile.

“You… uhm.” Tom’s words don’t work. Or maybe they don’t exist.

“Yeah, great night, actually. You know, other than you walking out on me, but I can’t blame you.” She shrugs. There’s nothing close to hurt in her voice, nothing close to anger either, really.

Tom has to swallow, because he feels like there’s something more she wants to say and he’s not sure the tug at his heart can take it if she does. Whether that’s a bold reveal that she does, in fact, not like him, in any way, or if it is that she likes him. But what if she likes him only sexually? Will he indulge?

“You know?” she says and takes a step closer to him. “We got about ten minutes. Or more, if we lock the door.” A finger comes up to drag down a little of the shirt he wears, exposing some of his chest. She doesn’t say the last words, but Tom can hear them.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest. Her fingers dance with flames as they graze across and trace their way to his chin. A firm hand takes hold of it, steadying his gaze into hers and he’s not sure he can say no when she licks her lips in that way.

God, his pants are tight.

When he lets her tug him down to ghost her lips over his, he knows he’s screwed. He’s breaking his own heart, breaking the pieces he thought were mending slowly but surely, breaking the trust he put into himself to be strong enough to resist the temptation.

But when Y/N’s lips graze past and connect with his neck, he can’t control the impulse that makes his hands fly to her hips to pull her flush against him. His hands graze the lining of her shirt, and he knows they don’t have time for teasing or foreplay or anything Tom really enjoys.

He doesn’t care. He gives in, succumbing to the desire that resides deep within him. If the only way Tom can be close to Y/N is by being a fuck buddy, he couldn’t care less. At least he gets to be with her.

---

By now, Tom would be home. He’d be with Bobby, cradling the dog into him to gain the cuddles he so desperately needed but didn’t get from the person he most wanted.

Yet, Tom isn’t home. He’s still at the office, slumped down in his too small couch with its too lumpy cushions and too hard armrests. It was the first thing he’d done when he got back after the Creative Writing class. Mostly because he needed time to think, but he can’t think because all that’s on it is how good those ten minutes before class started had been.

God knows he loves foreplay, but God knows they hadn’t needed it.

It’s not like that isn’t what he wanted to think about, it’s just that he can’t stop thinking about how it felt, instead of thinking about what this means for him. For them. For Y/N: His mind should be travelling through all the consequences of such a relationship. Or his mind shouldn’t only be focusing on the positive consequences.

He should focus on how this might rupture the steady going of an actual friendship (with the hopeful something more), but instead he can’t stop thinking about the feelings that rushed through him when Y/N’s lips had press to that spot on his neck. He can’t stop thinking about the throbbing in his abdomen, the swirl of hurt and guilt and arousal deep within his gut, the adrenaline that rushed through his body knowing she wanted him.

However, the one thought (that’s a mixture of positive and negative) he can’t let go, is that she avoided kissing him. She avoided pressing her lips to his, despite the obvious passion that had come from it on Saturday. She almost avoided his face entirely (the slight hint of a red mark on his neck―that one of their students had pointed out over the course of the class―isn’t necessarily unwanted).

But that feeling, that deep, deep longing that had accompanied the kiss on Saturday (no matter if it was prompted by alcohol), he missed that. He wanted it. He still wants it. He wants all of it. More than just friends with benefits, more than a casual relationship, more than… He isn’t even sure exactly what it is they do have.

Maybe they have something that can lead somewhere? Maybe they have something that won’t continue? Maybe they have something―  

Tom’s train of thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. He scrambles to sit upright on the couch (though he nearly falls off). And, with some sense of dignity still left, he says, “come in.”

The door opens agonizingly slowly. Tom has a silent wish of it being Y/N wanting something more, but he also has a huge wish it’s Benedict and that he can talk to his best friend about the problem that is eating away at him.

And thank God, his prayers are answered. Benedict fully steps into the room and gives Tom a quick once up. He raises a brow and smirks slightly. “And what did I walk in on?” he asks.

“Nothing.” Tom shakes his head. “No, there is something. You have time to talk or did you just come here for a favor?”

Benedict closes the door and sits down in the chair at his side of the desk. He turns it to face Tom and leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “I was coming in here for something else, but you look like you need to talk more. What’s going on?”

“It’s Y/N.”

“Of course it is. Did something happen Saturday?” Benedict raises a brow.

Tom nods, slowly. “We… uhh, I don’t know how to put this, but… we, uhmm…” He takes a deep breath, unsure of how to say the words, unsure of Benedict’s reaction. “We slept together.”

The man’s eyes go wide, and a frown comes through on his face. “Like in the same bed, or the… you know?”

“We had sex, and then fell asleep afterward. Why would we just sleep in the same bed?” Tom shakes his head at his best friends.

“I don’t know. Maybe there was something else.” He shrugs. “But that can’t be everything.”

Tom presses his lips together. He drapes a hand across his face, a sigh accompanying the gesture. “We did it again. I guess you could call it a ‘quicky’. In the classroom. Before our students came in.”

“Is that the reason for the red mark on your neck?”

“Yes.”

When Tom looks up to meet Benedict’s gaze, it feels almost like the older man is mocking him. The teasing, and halfway disappointed, look on Benedict's face is tantalizing.

“She or you initiate?”

“Her. Both times.”

“But the first she was drunk?”

Tom nods. “She had a mistletoe in her doorway. I guess it helped when I followed her up to her flat, seeing as she couldn’t really walk.”

Benedict chuckles. “Are you going to keep it up?”

A sigh falls from Tom’s lips. “I don’t know. Should I?”

“Is it worth it?”

Is it worth it? Is it worth the ache in his heart when she looks at him as if he holds everything she desires but not the part he wants her to desire? Is it worth the stab in his gut when her lips don’t connect with his? Is it worth the scorching heat that comes off of her fingers grazing his skin, of her hands studying his chest? Is it worth his heart leaping into his throat because she feels so close yet so far away? Is it worth it, if his heart will only break past redemption in an effort to be close to her even if it’s not in the way he wants?

“I don’t know.” Tom shakes his head. “What if it’s the only way? What if that’s my only option to be close to her? What if I lose everything if I stop it?”

Benedict smiles, but whatever is really on his mind, he doesn’t say. “Tom, be real. Is it worth it?”

He takes a deep breath, unsure of his answer. Unsure until his lips part and the words carry around the room.

“Yes.”

permanent tags:  @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan @geeksareunique @fandom-imagines1

Tom tags:  @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert @satanskatze @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

suakm tags:  @plooffairy @just-the-hiddles @jennytwoshoes @lokissidehoe @fruitfly123 @princetale @scorpionchild81 @noplacelikehome77 @winterisakiller @lostsoldieronahill @nonsensicalobsessions @cherrygeek86 @louhpstuff @olyamoriarty @sunshinein17 @kthemarsian @kumikowi @secretcupcakekitty @buckygrantbarnes @josis-teacup @runawaygiirl @januarycalendargirl @funny-fangirl @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpiomindfuck  @dr-kayleigh-dh @inmyworstlies @twhgirl @maah-chan @florencia93c @i-am-a-mes @o-deya @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @cantaloupewatch @carpediem-spero @createdbyanintensenerd @beananacake @lysawayne @nightrose64 @bradfordbantams @feyre-thehighlady @thundermaximoff @lys-syl @beenthroughalot @xrainydazeteax​ @mautand​ @coldbookworm​ @cursed-moonstone @justanobodyinthisbigworld​ @holyodepius​

[travllingbunny]

The 100: 7x05 Welcome to Bardo

Here’s finally my belated review of 7x05. I was too busy last week (with actual work) so I couldn’t write it before 7x06 aired. Then I got a bit distracted with my Dark rewatch and Dark season 3 dropping. But I’m taking a break from it to finally post this review and then, hopefully, 7x06 not long after. It’s good that I did a couple of rewatches because I could notice more details. (The review was already halfway over a week ago, so I added some remarks in italics  that are things I only think now after seeing 7x06.)

This was an episode I was looking forward to and I enjoyed it, because it finally brought us to Bardo, in the belly of the beast so to speak (note: I wrote this sentence before I saw 7x06, and now I want to keep it because it’s just too funny that 7x06 put Clarke and co. in the literal belly of the beast), where the main action is likely to be, advanced the main plot of season 7 quite a lot, tied a few storylines and showed us Octavia in the present for the first time this season, and - not gonna lie - the highlight of the episode, 1 minute appearance of Bellamy, the first one since the first scenes of the season premiere. 

However, I have to say that I wasn’t really impressed with the part of the episode that should have been the most interesting - Octavia’s flashbacks showing what happened to her when she was first taken to Bardo. It served its purpose by filling in the blanks, or rather confirming what I had already figured out, but for one thing, I didn’t get too much character focus in this episode, except for a touching Octavia-Hope scene and Echo’s disturbing actions in the end, which made for a pretty strong scene. And this time I was really bothered by the sloppiness of the details: from just how  inconsistent the time dilation rules (rules? what rules?) seem at this point (already a problem before, but this episode made it even worse, especially since it focused on the timeline so much) to the messy selection of flashbacks in the Memory Capture scenes (while the timeline is the writers’ fault, this was obviously a case of the editor being really lazy). Maybe this is just  nitpicking, but I find it really annoying when I can’t analyze details to come up theories because I have no idea which detail is a part of the plan and which is just a screw-up. 

:Like everyone have some theories, including those about what really happened to Bellamy after his “death”. (At least they’re not even trying to make us believe Bellamy is dead on social media and in Inside the Episode features, like they tried last season with Clarke.)  

This is why it ended up being an episode I liked less on rewatch, and I rank it behind 7x02, 7x04 and 7x01, although ahead of 7x03 (and, it turns out, 7x06). Even though the Sanctum portion of the episode was really strong and interesting this time.

Prepare for a lot of nitpicking of plot holes, and me about to incur the wrath of many t100 fans by explaining why I really dislike like the idea of an Octavia/Levitt endgame romance (it’s mostly because of their interactions in this episode).

This was the second episode this season where Marie said “Previously on” (I’m curious how many different cast members do it this season) and I think it’s the first time we saw the opening titles that were released before the S7 trailer, the ones that start with the Bardo Stone Room.

Sanctum

The deluded brainwashed folks in Sanctum who still worship the Primes have a name they have given themselves - the Faithful. And it seems that they call the people who aren’t brainwashed ‘the Fallen’. Has the show ever had  such an annoying character as Trey, their leader? 

I must say I related to Murphy when he suggested that maybe they should just let them burn themselves if that’s what they want, instead of letting them exert control that way. Yes, I know it’s bad. But that’s one of the things Murphy is good for, to sometimes say things that we all kind of think but would feel ashamed of saying aloud - at least if it was real life. However, Murphy - and I’m sure everyone - changed his mind when he saw they were going to burn children. And the father of the child who was about to be sacrificed (who we now know is called Jeremiah) looked confused and terrified. Maybe it’s just Trey and a couple of other fanatical people influencing and manipulating the others. Unfortunately, real life examples of people doing horrible things - even to their own children - in the name of what they believe in, to make me hesitate to call this too extreme to be plausible. But what is going on in the heads of these people? At least before, when the people of Sanctum were sacrificing their children or other loved ones or themselves, they believed it meant living forever and being one with the gods, but this? 

Nelson is becoming quite a likable character even though he has only had a brief scene or two here and there. (And then the show goes and does... whatever the hell they’re doing with him in 7x06.) Like this time, when he was the only one who tried to save the Faithful woman who set herself on fire, explaining that the people of Sanctum are still their people, even the Faithful. (Now this is a much nicer face of the Children of Gabriel. Where was he when CoG were killing Nightblood people/potential hosts, even though that’s not the most efficient way to stop the Primes - as opposed to killing the Primes and destroying their mind drives?)

Great little character moment for Emori when she asked Nelson: “Even though they cast you out?” He probably doesn’t even know how much that resonates with her. Is this foreshadowing her storyline this season? Will she have to interact with or do something for the Grounders - or even specifically her clan, Sangedakru (which also happens to be the clan where Sheidheda was from - and the most likely to follow him if/when they find out who he is, since they seem to consider him their “greatest champion’)? (The latter seems slightly less likely now that Indra seems to have made them respect her authority... but I doubt it’s going to be that easy...)

BTW, speaking of Emori. let me just address the speculation that she’s pregnant - apparently based on the fact she threw up?! She threw up because she got radiation poisoning, FFS. If she were pregnant, the fetus would at least be in huge danger of not surviving. Maybe the writers of The 100 didn’t know or didn’t expect the audience to know about the effects of radiation, but come on, they must be aware that everyone has seen Chernobyl.) And Jackson, a doctor, examined her right there.

Murphy being snarky: “I’m tired of being a hero”. Hmm... when was the last time, Murphy, you were a hero without someone roping you in first, or without you following Emori’s lead or making a last moment decision? However, while Murphy likes to claim he doesn’t want to be a hero, Bellamy told him in 5x01 that Murphy’s problem on the Ring was that he actually wanted to be a hero and felt useless because he didn’t have the opportunity. Still, he’s come a long way since season 1, when he wasn’t exactly that protective of children.... Granted, Charlotte was not an innocent, but she was still a child. And he was 17 at the time, now he’s an adult.

I’m enjoying watching Indra in her new leadership role and her stand-offs with RussHeda. It’s very fortunate that Adina is not busy with AHS anymore, and JR Bourne makes for a fantastic villain - in a completely different way than Russell was. Russell was soft and emotional while also pompous and hypocritical and seemed to believe his own BS, which made him all the more annoying. Sheidheda is much smarter and has no delusions about being a good guy. He’s scary and dark but he also knows how to turn the situation to his benefit and has very rational remarks about how ridiculous the Faithful are with their tactic. He clearly has nothing  but contempt for them. “My, my, what foolish little lambs you are.” (Which ties into this season’s themes of Shepherd and the flock.)

We learn more about Indra’s backstory, and this is the most I’ve been interested in Grounder history since... ever?

It’s also quite dark how she manipulates Jackson with his desire for revenge, by keeping the truth from him that RussHeda is not Russell. But Jackson’s dark side of his thirst for revenge for Abby has made him the most interesting that he’s ever been as a character.

I think that this storyline will eventually somehow tie with the main storyline. If nothing else then because Sheidheda and Madi are connected to the knowledge from the Flame, which is connected to Becca and ALIE and events from the prequel. Especially since it increasingly seems like the “great war” that’s being talked about may have something to do with AIs...

Bardo

Timeline and time dilation

Let me get this off my chest first... The timeline of this episode was confusing for some viewers in terms of the sequence of events. That isn’t the case for me - the problem is that the amount of time that was supposed to pass makes the time dilation seem really inconsistent.

So, chronologically, things happened like this:

in 6x08 (some 4 or 5 Sanctum days ago): Diyoza goes into the Anomaly; ends up on Skyring

Octavia goes into the Anomaly 6 seconds later, ends up on Skyring, 3 months (Skyring time) after Diyoza arrived. she gives birth.

Octavia and Diyoza spend 10 years there raising Hope.

Octavia sends a message to Bellamy in a bottle, not realizing the bottle ended up on Bardo (apparently, the default setting of the Anomaly, is: you go from Sanctum to Skyring and from Skyring to Bardo). Disciples capture her and Diyoza and take them to Bardo.

While Hope spends 10 more years on Skyring with Dev, before jumping to Bardo, Octavia is taken to Bardo, tried to run away, then is taken to Memory Capture. This is 45 (Bardo) days ago. She resists at first, but 34 Bardo days ago, she allows Levitt access to her memories and he starts watching them in a more coherent and chronological manner. 31 Bardo days ago, after he’s seen her memories up to the season 3 finale, Hope comes to rescue her. 

Levitt helps them and Octavia is sent back to Sanctum, losing her memories, and runs back into Gabriel’s arms (no, I don’t mean it like that and I don’t ship them)  - 10 Sanctum seconds after she ran into the Anomaly! (This is still 6x08)

7 Bardo days ago (which is some 2 days ago on Sanctum) or 6x13, Hope (who had probably been immediately captured when trying to save her mother - I guess she and the Disciples spent 24 days waiting for Octavia to enter Hope’s mind code into the Anomaly Stone...) is sucked into Sanctum, stabs Octavia with the tag which pulls her to Bardo. Octavia is brought to MCap again, and apparently Levitt talks to her and then she is brought to the Stone Room to talk Bellamy down. Something happens to Bellamy and Octavia is made to believe he’s dead.

in the present, Hope, Echo and Gabriel (after spending 5 years on Skyring, which was somehow 2 days on Sanctum (?)) jump to Bardo, kill some people, pretend to be DIsciples and listen to Anders’ speech, find Octavia, and see the memory of whatever happened or did not happen to Bellamy.

Now this means that the time differentials between planets have been like this:

Sanctum: 6 seconds = Skyring: 3 months

Sanctum:10 seconds = Skyring: over 20 years (because Hope spent 20 years on Skying and at least a few hours on Bardo, all in those 10 Sanctum seconds)

Sanctum: a few seconds (under 10 seconds, probably a lot less) = Bardo: 14 days (from “45 days ago” to “31 days ago”)

Sanctum: about 2 or 3 days = Bardo: 24 days

Sanctum: 2 days = Bardo: 7 days

Sanctum: a little over 1 day = Skyring: 5 years

See the problem here?

 @justbecauseyoubelievesomething pointed out before that the time differentials may vary a lot because of planets orbiting their suns (and Sanctum orbiting its planet and the suns) in elliptic orbits, so distances from the black hole change. However, the problem with this is that 1) they haven’t said that on the show and instead keep talking about the time differentials as if they are at least roughly the  same or similar all the time, and 2) these fluctuations vary way too much for it to make any sense? If it was just 1:3 and then 1:7, for instance, OK - but how the heck does the time differential between Sanctum and Bardo go from 1:200,000 to 1:3? 

How is this supposed to work? Do people on Bardo go:

“We’re sending a team to Sanctum!”

“Understood! We will need just an hour to retrieve the target!” “But Sir... they’ll return in 20 years! We have to wait till next week, then an hour will be just 7 hours here!”

“All right, we have to wait for the next week then!”

And do these fluctuations happen just between Sanctum and Bardo or Sanctum and Skyring, or also between Bardo and Skyring? The latter would make their prison system quite complicated and tricky!

A couple of other pieces of info - 

Levitt put the “Trust Bellamy” note in Hope’s arm during his MCap session (because he knew what Bellamy was to Octavia), but Anders apparently did not realize why Hope was bleeding or that it had something to do with Levitt, though he was the only one who could’ve had any contact with her?

One thing I don’t get is the part where Anders says: “it’s why you’re a prisoner dressed like a savage so you can get close to Aunty O”. Why did they have to dress Hope in Grounder-like clothes, exactly?

We also see that Meredith’s team was told to go to Sanctum and find Clarke - though it’s unclear why they waited so long to send them. Or why Meredith’s team waited about a day and a half to contact Clarke. We see Anders telling Meredith: “Because of the time dilation, no one will come for you if you fail” - and I have no idea that’s supposed to mean, especially since I don’t know what time differential it was supposed to be at the time.

Octavia in Memory Capture

...And I’m gonna nitpick some more. 

Maybe it’s not a big deal that many of the scenes we saw as Octavia’s memories didn’t make sense, because they were either scenes she wasn’t present for or scenes from the future (relative to the moment when she was on Bardo the first time), but I expected better, after the wonderful attention to detail in last season’s Nevermind and Matryoshka, where neither the prop masters nor editors and sound editors made any mistakes with what we saw and heard of Clarke’s memories.

So, 45 days ago, when Octavia was first brought to Bardo, and Anders and Levitt were seeing random memories against her will, the first thing she’s told is to imagine someone holding out a hand to her to help her, and we see brief flashes of various memories (aka scenes from the previous seasons) before her mind settles of many different images of Bellamy:

Aurora with baby Octavia

Lincoln, just before his death

Indra - when Octavia finds her and talks to Clarke and Lexa (3x05) - of course this is there because of Indra, but I don’t know if Clarke is also supposed to be one of the people O thinks of: we see her quite clearly as she’s saying she must talk to Bellamy to save their people

and then a bunch of images of Bellamy - which is where things start not making sense, because while we see him 

in the Pilot on the dropship (that makes sense)

in season 5 when he argued with Octavia (also makes sense)

but we also see him dressed Gabriel’s cardigan, which he only wore after reuniting with Octavia in 6x10, after she came back from Bardo, and one of the images is definitely from 6x13 when Hope came from the Anomaly (future scenes!)l 

we also see the scene where Bellamy was looking for Octavia and talked to Clarke in 1x06 (where Octavia was obviously not present for! It’s also the scene right after the Aurora flashback - the editor were obviously being super lazy)

and Bellamy in an anti-radiation suit in 4x13 when he had to leave Clarke (the only way Octavia could remember that is if she had a telepathic link to her brother!)

Other  memories include Murphy in Pike’s class (clearly just as a cool transition from a Murphy scene in Sanctum), but it was really funny how horrified Octavia seemed when Levitt asked her if he was her lover. ;) Levitt clearly got a bunch of images of her friends - including Raven, Clarke (from the Pilot!) and Indra, whose images we see on screen in addition to Bellamy - and he finally sees a bunch of memories of Hope on Skyring, which is what she was trying to hide the most.

At this point, Octavia desperately tries to make a deal with Levitt - he doesn’t mention Hope in his report, and lets her go later, and she’ll let him into her memories. Just before Levitt starts watching her memories in the chronological order, we hear some more of Octavia’s memories in her head (they aren’t showing on the screen, where the same flashbacks as before are playing):

banishing Echo in 4x11

Bellamy deciding to leave her in 6x03 (“Are you out of your mind? You didn’t need to kill anyone!”)

Miller saying “Blodreina gave that honor to me!”

Octavia yelling “You’re dead to me!” to Bellamy (in that disturbing scene in 3x10) and...

Hallucination!Pike telling her she caused a world to be destroyed and herself yelling she wanted “REDEMPTION!” - which is another inconsistency, because comes from a red toxin hallucination that she’ll only have after she returns to Sanctum (in 6x09)! At least you could say this was already in her subconsciousness, but these were supposed to her memories!

When she starts cooperating, Levitt basically binges the first 3 seasons of The 100 - or rather, a version of it where Octavia is the main character and everything is only from her POV - ending with 3x16, which is probably pretty significant, as they showed several moments right before Clarke destroyed the City of Light and the moments after she came back. We see Bellamy telling everyone what to do as they were fighting chipped people to protect Clarke, Clarke on the throne in the City of Light, Pike fighting chipped!Jaha, Pike saving Octavia, and, and after the destruction of the COL, Murphy and Emori hugging, and finally - Octavia stabbing Pike.

This is where Levitt goes “Yes!” - which makes me (and Octavia) feel real tonal dissonance. He reveals himself to be a true Octavia stan, the kind who thinks their favorite character simply cannot go wrong and who doesn’t just defend her and have an understanding and empathy for her motives and emotional states (which is great), but cheers even the bad things she did (which is not great). Now, if Levitt is meant to be a representation of a typical stan, that’s great. The show has, this season in particular (and even in S6 to a point - through Jordan) been dealing with the idea of Clarke, Octavia and other main characters as living legends. And a lot of t100 fans - including every single YouTube reactor I’ve seen - always cheers and says they’re happy when she kills Pike. I didn’t feel that way, so there’s that. And sure, some of that is because I didn’t hate Pike. But what’s more important is: that moment was never portrayed as a triumphant one. (It it was meant to be, it would have been Octavia killing Pike in a battle, or something similar to the scene where Lincoln killed Cage Wallace in 2x16, not Octavia stabbing Pike when he didn’t expect it, after they had fought together and right after he had saved her life. It wouldn’t have shown Bellamy and Clarke worried about Octavia, or made it her ‘start of darkness’ moment that led to her becoming a murder-obsessed assassin in season 4. And 6x09 made a point that Octavia herself saw this act as a wrong one - that she thinks she didn’t have the right to murder someone in cold blood even though she had legitimate reasons to hate him. The show generally doesn’t portray revenge-murder as a good thing. And that is true in this scene, too: we see flashbacks of Pike at his most heroic (fighting chipped Jaha and Pike right after he saved Octavia’s life) before the scene of her stabbing him, and while Levitt is like “YES!”, Octavia seems upset to see that moment again and a tear is falling from her eyes.

So why, then, is the show apparently portraying Levitt’s uncritical stanning of everything Octavia does as a great thing, and why are so many fans and reviewers convinced that Levitt is a great new love interest for Octavia, possibly her endgame love interest, because of his adoration of her and the praise her gives her? (And 7x06 has made me think that, yes, the show is definitely portraying him as a potential love interest.) Yes, I agree that Octavia needs someone to help boost her self-esteem and tell her she’s not a monster, that she’s a good person at heart, that she’s worthy of love. But it would mean so much more if it came from someone who was able to relate to her as an equal and also acknowledge her dark side and be critical of the bad things she did. “I understand why you did this and it doesn’t make you a terrible person” is different from “Everything you did is right and awesome.” I liked what he said about her as a child, how she was even then being responsible and protecting her mother and brother and not just herself by hiding. But it’s absurd to tell someone “You’re not a killer, you’re a warrior” right after you’ve seen them murder someone out of revenge in what most definitely wasn’t a battle or a fight. The fact is that Octavia is both a warrior and a killer. They all are - she, Clarke, Bellamy, all of them. Having a good heart and understandable motives doesn’t change that fact.

If Levitt is supposed to just be a Disciple with a crush that makes him help Octavia, fine, but I can’t see a potential romance there - it would be like  a relationship between a celebrity and an obsessive fan.

World-building

This episode was full of world-building info, probably what I liked about it the most:

Levitt seemed particularly interested in Clarke and the fact she was in the City of Light, which makes me think that the reason why she is ‘the key’ in the eyes of the Disciples has something to do with Becca’s tech and ALIE in particular, and that the enemy they’re afraid of may be some sort of an AI.

We finally saw Bardo. Not that it was surprising since we already knew from the opening titles and 7x04 that the compound was underground and that it was a dome with artificial atmosphere and that it included an arboretum, Stone Room, which is on the way to the cells, etc. I checked to see if it matched the layout drawn by Orlando. I had assumed that the numbers were levels in the structure, but while Orlando put Arboretum as 1, it is on level 2. 

It seems that all the Disciples were either black or white clothes. (Fits with the black and white way of thinking.) From what we’ve seen so far, it seems that the military, so to speak (fighters/those who jump to other planets) wear black, while the Stone Conductors, people who do the Memory Capture, other scientists, as well as other personnel (like janitors or gardeners/groundskeepers) wear white. Anders himself, the First Disciple, wears white, so I suppose he is one of the “civilians’.

Anders claims that the Disciples have risen above “lesser emotions” and learned to value the collective rather than the individuals. But from what we’ve seen of other Disciples, that’s BS. That may be their ideology, but in fact, they’re just the same as anyone else and just as prone to developing feelings of love and bonds of friendship as anyone else.

Levitt is Level 11! Which makes you wonder how hard the Disciples really check how ‘devout’ the Disciples are. But maybe he’s just too important as an expert, 

We see the MCap technology at work. But we also see that it’s not easy to extract memories from an unwilling subject. Levitt has apparently mostly done this to the Disciples themselves (you’d think most of them would be willing, but obviously some were not, since they sound like they already have experience with unwilling subjects.) Levitt tries to get Octavia to comply because he’s a Good Cop by telling her that they may get his colleague instead, who will “burn right through” her brain. (But as we see from the Diyoza flashback in 7x06, that’s not true - the other guy, Kirsch, doesn’t do that when Diyoza is uncooperative. I don’t think they are actually able to do that.)

The Disciples usually send teams every 30 minutes (but these 30 minutes are drastically different on Sanctum and on Skyring!)

More about how the Anomaly Stones work: while Dev told Hope that all you need to do Is think where you want to go and the helmet will do the rest, it’s not actually that magical - in fact, you actually need someone (normally the Conductor) to push the buttons on the Anomaly Stone.

According to Levitt, pulling someone from another planet through the Anomaly is “ safe 8 out of 10 times". What happens the other 20% of times? Is it really being “turned inside out” as Hope said in 7x02?

It’s also confirmed that people lose their memories if they travel without the helmets from a faster to a slower time dilated planet (which I had already figured out based on the fact that the danger only seemed to exist when travelling from Skyring/Bardo to Sanctum and from Skyring to Bardo, but not the other way round).

When Hope was about to leave to save her mother, Levitt tried to tell her: “They have helmets, too, that means that…” – what? That they can see her? Meredith’s team didn’t see Raven, so it can’t be that. But do they have some other way of communicating? Do you have to be actively thinking for them to detect you? Whatever it is, she should’ve listened as she quickly got caught.

Eyes are important as it’s through them that the biometric signature/mind code is made. And the Disciples have a very quick way of painting/tattooing the code on someone’s back.

What exactly is the problem with the atmosphere on Bardo? There is a biohazard alert as Octavia is brought in and she’s checked for some sort of an infection (“she’s clean”). It seems that the problem is with some kind of a disease (especially with what we hear from Levitt in 7x06).

In the category of revelations that weren’t a surprise at all since the fandom has figured them out weeks ago, Gabriel realizes that there is a Stone on Earth (as we saw in 7x04 and in the opening titles - it’s the offline planet), by listening to Anders’ speech where he mentions that the Shepherd delivered them by a stone. (Confirming the theory that Disciples are Second Dawn even before that was technically confirmed in 7x06 and that Cadogan led them through the Anomaly some time after the Apocalypse and after burning Becca. I suppose they disconnected the Stone so unbelievers could not follow them.)

There’s a ton of new info about the history of Bardo. According to the Disciples, the compound was built by “Native Bardoans”, who went extinct before the Disciples got there. And they were supposedly giants, but were turned by something called “Gen9″ into “crystal giants”?! Levitt says that the whole min code could fit on a Bardoan’s arm? (How does he know that?) I call BS on that. The rooms and doors in the compound are tall, but wide enough just for a human-sized person to pass through. (And there are plenty of human buildings with very tall doors and ceilings.) The retinal scans are fitted to the human eye, all the technology is human-sized, and, most importantly, the keys on the Anomaly Stone are the size of a human finger. The whole thing reminds of many legends that various big ancient buildings were built by giants. I still think Eligius III people were the ones who built the compound. We still haven’t heard anything of them and where they fit. And with the time dilation, they could’ve been on Bardo for decades or centuries before Second Dawn arrived a few Earth years later.

What is Gen9? I assume it’s a disease (especially with all the mentions of the polluted atmosphere on the surface), but it’s also been suggested it may be a computer program, which would fit with the idea of the enemy being an AI or connected to AIs. I like the theory that it’s not short from “Generation 9″ but “Genesis 9″, which would fit with the religious themes (the Disciples mix and match a lot of pseudo-Christian and pseudo-Buddhist ideas). Genesis 9 is the chapter about God’s Covenant with Noah, where God tells him that humans should go and multiple and feed on plants and animals, but they mustn’t eat what has lifeblood in it still, and they mustn’t shed the blood of another human being. “I will demand an accounting for the life of another human being.“

These are the transcripts of all the prayers and speeches of the Disciples from this episode, as much as I was able to hear them:

[prayer] “In the light of the Shepherd, for all mankind. He will save us from the war to end all wars”

[female speaker] "The Shepherd brings us wisdom. The Shepherd brings us love, for all mankind. (...) Humanity (...) (final days)… burned, (...) as bombs launched, your ancestors chose a different path. There will soon be time when we will be tested to a man, and we will be victorious. For all mankind!"

[male introducing Anders]“And now, it is my greatest honor to present the esteemed First Disciple, who will lead us through today’s lesson on the Book of Allness.”

Anders: “Thank you, Emilio. In the light of the Shepherd, for all mankind! 

Let’s first take a moment to acknowledge our newest class of Level 9s. You’ve each demonstrated impressive devotion to the Shepherd. Our predecessors on this planet did not share that faith. Like our ancestors on Earth, they destroyed their world. Even before they were wiped out by Gen 9 and turned into crystal giants, their atmosphere was so polluted they were forced to build forests underground in order to breathe. Even the rain that should fall from the sky, falls instead by their technology. For that, we thank them. But where are they now? We know that by the time the Shepherd delivered us with the stone, the Bardoans were gone, extinct. Why is that? [Someone from the crowd: “They didn’t have the Shepherd!” Everyone laughs. Oh, Disciple humor... ] No, they didn’t, did they? They [unintelligible, Gabriel speaks over this part]… they lost their last great war. That same enemy is coming after us now. But, in the light of the Shepherd, we will not lose. [crowd cheers] We’re close now. We’ve located the key. After hundreds of years it has returned to us. Ours is the generation that will win the last war! Our Shepherd will rise [unintelligible] and we will win (?) this fight, for all mankind!”

Hi, Bellamy! Bye, Bellamy! See ya later!

And for the most important thing in this episode: yes, we were blessed with a rare and joyous moment,, a sighting of Bellamy Blake on screen (and not in MCap but in an actual new scene), as occurrence as rare this season as (probably) the Disciples seeing the Shepherd.

While absolutely no one is buying the fake-out death (about as convincing as Clarke’s in 6x04 or Octavia’s in 6x13, though I now wonder if leaving Bellamy out of the poster and Bob out of the Countdown was a part of the fake-out they committed to), there have been many different theories about what really happened there, if the whole scene was staged or if it even happened or was an implanted memory. (The glitch effects between scenes may have contributed to that theory, but the glitch effect occurred at random points, e.g. when Hope remembered  her conversation with Anders, and I don’t see why that would be a false memory.)

For a moment, I even wondered if Levitt talking to Octavia was her hallucination (seeing a comforting figure) because it seemed quite implausible that Anders and the others had only then started to figure out that he got too close to her, and that they were still letting her come anywhere near her. But 7x06 proved I was wrong. Well, maybe Anders has realized Levitt had helped Octavia and Hope and it’s all some elaborate trap where he is using Levitt as an unwitting pawn, though that seems a bit convoluted... or maybe Anders just isn’t actually that smart as we assume he should be.

 I’ve never believed in the ‘implanted memory’ theory, and people have since pointed out that there’s a sign of damage from the blast in the Stone Room. 

The other prevalent theory is that the whole scene was staged by the Disciples and that Bellamy himself was in on it because he’s been brainwashed. The arguments are - it’s unlikely that Bellamy managed to overpower a few Disciples after being captured unconscious, and that there’s supposedly something “off” about him in that scene because he had been crying just before that. I don’t think there’s anything “off”, and he had learned that Octavia was alive, so why do people expect him to be crying rather than fighting to save her? As for it being unlikely that he killed a couple of Disciples immediately, overpowered another and captured the Conductor - I’m sorry, but have you seen the Disciples this season? They are being killed by pretty much every main character. And maybe some fans see Bellamy as a soft sweet teddy bear of a man and think that only women on t100 are allowed to be good fighters, but canon Bellamy is pretty damn badass and really good at fighting. What would be actually hard to believe is that Bellamy could get brainwashed over the course of a few hours. I’m sorry, but no.

People also said the fact that Bellamy asked what the heck Octavia was talking about when she used the opportunity to tell him that Disciples wanted Clarke (”I’ll tell them everything, even about Clarke”) was a sign he had lost his memories or been brainwashed and that he didn’t know who Clarke was - which is a really convoluted argument. The simplest and most obvious answer is that he was surprised and wanted to know what they wanted with Clarke.

There was actually something odd about that scene - but it was Anders’ behavior. after Octavia said that line about Clarke and after Bellamy reacted to it, he got a very strange look on his face, and the camera was focusing on him. The second odd thing is that the Conductor got very upset at that moment and started begging Anders: “Sir, please, no”, before Anders shut him up - which seemed like an overreaction to the possibility of... what? Letting a prisoner go?  This makes me think that the Disciple on the floor detonating a grenade was a part of the ploy by Anders. He certainly was never going to send Bellamy to Sanctum - I have an idea where he actually sent him - but what if he was also signalling something to the Disciple - that he should detonate the grenade? Which would be a smoke screen so Octavia, Levitt and others wouldn’t know what really happened to Bellamy and would think he was dead.

But why would Anders want Octavia to think he was dead? It’s certainly not to make her cooperate, because that was only ever likely to have the opposite effect. But also - why would the Disciples focus on making Octavia tell them more about Clarke, when they could try to use Bellamy for the same purpose? From Octavia’s memories, they must have known how close Bellamy and Clarke are. (Or did Levitt tell Anders that? If he did not, that was an additional reason to suspect Levitt and hide information from him. If Anders was only starting to realize there’s a connection between Clarke and Bellamy, that could have changed his plans.) And they could do more with Bellamy than just try to get his memories. They could use him (his life, his safety) to draw in Clarke, the “key”. If Anders has sent Bellamy somewhere and wanted to hide his whereabouts and make people on Bardo think he’s dead for the time being, the blast could be a good distraction, before he plays that card. (All of this, of course, assuming Anders is actually smart.) 

Now, where is Bellamy? He certainly wasn’t sent back to Sanctum, and Anders had no reason to send him to Skyring or Nakara (if he needs him alive and under his control, that would defeat the purpose), And there’s no indication that it’s possible for the Anomaly Stone to send a person to another location on the same planet. So, I believe Bellamy has been sent to Etherea. That would be the reason to finally go to the only planet of the 6 that we haven’t seen yet. I’ve also had the theory that Etherea is the slowest of all the planets - because, if you’re using time dilation as a plot point, why wouldn’t you milk it for its worth? And if that’s the case - good news is that Bellamy won’t get almost any older, but the bad news is that he’s lost all his memories. But not too bad of a news, since he’d get them back as soon as he gets to a faster planet. 

This would open some juicy story possibilities... 

An Echo of Finn (and Octavia?)

This episode continued the trend we’ve already seen in 7x04 - Hope is becoming more of a killer after her first kill on Skyring, Echo is reverting to her identity as as ruthless spy and killer (and occasionally murderer, as at the of this episode), in her 5-year single-minded mission to save Bellamy and now as a result of believing that Bellamy is dead and her mission was for nothing. And Gabriel is getting more and more frustrated with both of them, especially Echo, and constantly going “will you stop killing people, please?” (Well, not in those words.) (And I’m wondering how close he really got to the others, since they spent 5 years together and were preparing to jump to Bardo, but Hope never told Gabriel about Levitt?! )

There was some irony earlier in the episode when Hope seemed almost ready to attack Anders in front of hundreds of Disciples (she really hates him - I guess because she knew they were torturing her mother), and Echo told her to “pull herself together”, since it was Echo later that lost it, murdered Kirsch the memory capture guy in a particularly brutal way, and blew their chances of using him to get to Diyoza, which would’ve been a terrible blow to Hope if Diyoza hadn’t freed herself anyway, as we see in 7x06.

(Kudos to Tasya for being really good in that scene, she made Echo look genuinely scary. I’ve often criticized her acting, but this time she was really on point.)

So let’s talk about this moment and Echo’s arc this season.

Some people say that this is just a normal reaction to “losing the love of your life” and that everyone would react the same. But we’ve seen other characters lose people they deeply loved, and they did not react the same way. We’ve seen Bellamy react to Octavia’s “death” in S4 and Clarke’s “death” in S6. We’ve seen Clarke react to many of her loved ones’ deaths, most recently to her mother’s. Her grief over her mother was shown in detail over several episodes, and we saw her explode in the end, but while she beat up Russell, she stopped herself from killing him (and Russell was the actual person who murdered her mother and had previously tried to murder Clarke herself and stole her body for his daughter). In S6, Bellamy wanted to kill Russell (again, the actual person responsible for Clarke’s death) and burn the Sanctum down, but he stopped himself. In this very episode, we see Octavia react to her brother’s “death”. which she sees as very real, but she hasn’t started going around and killing anyone she gets her hands on. 

Now, Octavia of the past, S3 Octavia, was different, far less mature, more violent, and she did react violently to Lincoln’s death, including becoming a murderer - now, the person she murdered was the one directly responsible for Lincoln’s death, but she also went on to become an assassin and became rather murder-happy, before stopping herself just as she was about to kill Ilian the same way Pike killed Lincoln. 

Another obvious parallel is to Finn and the way he was losing control and becoming more violent, ruthless and selfish, from murdering  a  Grounder prisoner, to wanting to leave Mel literally hanging from a cliff because she was unimportant in his eyes compared to his goal of finding and “saving” Clarke (who, it turned out, didn’t even need saving and had saved herself), to completely losing it and killing a bunch of completely innocent people. The guy Echo killed here wasn’t really innocent, but he wasn’t responsible for Bellamy’s “death”, either, and Echo’s behavior on her quest to save Bellamy has been increasingly violent throughout the season. And, while we knew Clarke was alive and well, we don’t know where Bellamy is but he is still alive and will probably eventually meet Echo again, just like Clarke reunited with Finn.

(Mind you: I don’t think Echo’s killing spree is the reason why Becho will fall apart. The relationship was already disintegrating in S6, if you pay any attention. This is more about Echo herself and where she finds herself without that relationship. Finn’s killing spree wasn’t the reason why Flarke fell apart, either. Clarke still had feelings for Finn, but she had rejected him for other reasons, i.e. his earlier behavior. )

What do all these actions have in common? They weren’t romantic, they were f*cking unhealthy. When Finn told Clarke that he killed all those people for her, she was horrified, and I was really angry at him for telling her something that terrible.

In Finn’s case, he may have been suffering from PTSD, and his feelings for Clarke were turning into an obsession and made him look almost like a stalker. In Echo’s case, she has serious identity issues and her childhood trauma and conditioning by Queen Nia. But the show is, in this case, more open about the fact that, for Echo, it’s not all about romantic love. or love in general. She has lost her purpose. Bellamy is not just her boyfriend, he’s her King, like Nia and Roan before him. Echo’s own subconsciousness has been telling her that this is a problem, and that her relationship with Bellamy is very unbalanced. “Without Bellamy, who will you follow? Without someone to follow, who are you?” It also told her that she has remained the same as before she became a part of the Spacekru and his girlfriend: “Once a killer, always a killer.” ““The honorless spy who would do anything for her queen, even betray the man she now claims to love?” In S5 and S6, Bellamy was trying to not “make the same mistakes”, and “do better”, and was always rejecting Echo’s more ruthless suggestions of how to deal with any potential enemies, and she always fell in line as he was the leader/ Without him, she is reverting to her old patterns.

It’s not romantic or a sign of soulmate love to wrap your whole identity over one person. It’s really unhealthy. It was also unhealthy when Octavia said she didn’t have a home and didn’t belong anywhere after Lincoln’s death because he was “her home”. She had to grow out of that. Maybe she could offer some advice to Echo now. Will it work or not? I don’t know.

What I’m sure of is that Becho is doomed, but the writing on the wall has been there at least throughout season 6, if not already in season 5. What I don’t know is how Echo’s own arc this season will end. She will have to forge a new identity, but what will it be? Will she start following someone else? (That would be a pretty depressing arc.) Become independent, but still a ruthless killer? Will she start thinking about the morality of her actions as most other o the major characters do? Will she fail to find any solution and will die? Not every character on the show gets to have an uplifting arc where they solve their issues. Her arc is different from Finn’s because his dark arc was a completely new and shocking development, while Echo is reverting to who she used to be. But I think it’s more likely that she gets a more positive ending than Finn, because the show has been paralleling storylines in seasons 6-7 to storylines of early seasons (like Sanctum-Mount Weather) but with a more positive outcome.

Best moments/lines

While Bellamy’s 1-minute appearance was undoubtedly the highlight of the episode, my favorite scenes were Octavia’s reunion and goodbye with Hope (even with Hope being an adult now, Octavia talks to her as a surrogate aunt: “I love you, little one, don’t you ever forget it”), the scenes with Murphy and the kids and the battle of wills between Indra and Sheidheda. 

The best line by far was Hope’s reply to Anders:

“This is what happens when you value individuals above the collective”

Hope: “It’s called love, you son of a bitch,”

Body count:

One Faithful burned herself.

another fanatical suicide: a Disciple who detonated the grenade (at Anders’ orders?) in the flashback scene with Bellamy

a bunch of Disciples killed, again. For a group that’s supposed to be so badass and scary, they really failing to be that, since they’re constantly getting their asses kicked. OK, they are not all Level 12, and Orlando was both Level 12 and a teacher of fighting skills. And yes, Echo and Hope (and Gabriel, who hasn’t killed anyone so far) have had almost 5 years of training  by Orlando, while Octavia and Bellamy (and Diyoza, of course) are incredibly badass even without it. But you can’t keep them getting killed so easily and expect me to take them seriously. This time, Bellamy killed a couple in the flashback, and Hope and Echo killed a few, including a particularly sadistic murder of Kirsch the Memory Cap guy.

Rating: 7.5/10

[yodawgiherd]

Drought

Rating : E

>>>Read on AO3<<<

New year new me writing the same old stuff.... I mean, you guys asked for it :)

Enjoy!

Two weeks. Two weeks have passed since that nice night out they had when Eren took her out for dinner and drove her around to find that ice cream she liked. Two weeks since they made sweet love after coming home, slow and unrushed and satisfying in every possible way. Two weeks since Mikasa fell asleep in his arms, wishing for nothing that day. It was perfect.

And then, as usual, reality came. The next days were filled for both, with Mikasa being once again selected as a lead for a new collection by Kiyomi and Eren’s dedication for a better world making him take more overtimes. Between her photoshoots and his shifts, they simply had no time. And the Colosseum tournament in Vegas growing closer and closer every day didn’t help. Levi was adamant that Mikasa increases her training load, wanting her to be in top shape when that thing rolls around. All this translated into them not even seeing each other, often getting home when the other one was sleeping, and overall just missing any sort of interaction. It was mind-boggling really, how they managed to never bump into each other save for a few short moments, passing in the door or Mikasa waking when Eren slid into the bed with her and hugged her.

Knowing that the upcoming weekend they both have free schedules for once made Mikasa wake up with a smile, stretching in the bed. It was Friday, which meant that tomorrow the long drought will finally come to an end, in more ways than one. Mikasa didn’t want that much from life but going two weeks without having her boyfriend touch her even once did make her a bit frustrated. In theory, she could always take care of herself, god knows that they had more than enough toys to help her, but that just didn’t feel right. Tomorrow, she thought to herself, getting out of the bed and making her way downstairs. Tomorrow is the day.

Eren was gone, understandably, his shifts sometimes began in ungodly hours of the morning, but he left breakfast behind much to Mikasa’s delight. As she sat down to eat it, her eyes wandering over the table, she noticed another thing he left behind. An unassuming wooden box with a folded note on top. Curious, she picked the paper up, eyes scanning over the lines of Eren’s handwriting.

“Up for a little challenge?”, it said, the words ending with a winking smiley face.

Confused, she put the paper down, opening the box instead. Eyebrows rising, Mikasa knew that thing inside well, very well one might say, and the meaning of Eren’s message finally hit home. Beads connected by a string and a small bottle of lube weren’t something she expected to see first thing in the morning, but here they were, lying innocently in the box. It wasn’t that hard to understand what Eren wanted from her anymore. The question was, is Mikasa willing to go a full day with beads up her ass? Biting her bottom lip, she picked the toy up, inspecting the already known shape, thoughts racing in her head. As chance would want it, she didn’t have training today, only a photoshoot, but a damn long one. Mikasa knew from experience how it feels to have these inside of her and acting normal would be a challenge. Hard, but not impossible. Damn it, she just couldn’t back down from it, not when she imagined how smug Eren must have been in the morning, preparing this for her, probably thinking that she won’t do it. Well…..

“You’re on.”, Mikasa said albeit the beads seemed indifferent to her internal struggle, lying limply in her hand. She would show Eren just how wild she can get. Determined now, Mikasa grabbed the lube from the box, leaving for the bathroom in order to put those devilish pearls in.

Okay, maybe taking her motorbike as usual instead of a car was a bad choice. Breathing hard, Mikasa was glad that the helmet was hiding her face from public because it must have been completely red by now. Normally, she enjoyed the way her powerful machine purred between her legs, her bike was a new model, sleek and devilishly fast, which meant that it had a strong engine. But now, with that alien thing inside her, the vibrations coming from it were a torture. Mikasa felt it as soon as she kicked it alive, of course, but back then she was sure that it was passable, something she would stop paying attention to. It wasn’t. By the time she reached her parking space at the agency Mikasa was tempted to just head straight to the bathroom and take the beads out, but the thought of Eren’s face if he would find out stopped her. What she really wanted to do was drive into the hospital, find her boyfriend, drag him somewhere no one would see and fuck him senseless. Damn it. Composing herself, Mikasa carefully stopped the bike and climbed off, teeth gritting. And the day was only beginning.

Pixis did look a bit surprised when she asked for another break, having one just about half an hour ago, but he was enough of a gentleman not to pry. Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, Mikasa couldn’t help but notice the flush in her cheeks, which stood so painfully obvious against her pale skin, no matter how much make-up the artist put on her. It was hard to act normal when every move of her lower body was accompanied by the shifting of those pearls. She kept her mouth firmly shut to prevent herself from moaning, assumed the poses Dot wanted from her with as little leg movement as physically possible, but still. The motorbike ride left her ass tender and now she was paying the price for her foolishness. Mikasa had a hard time not texting Eren, telling him what an ass he was, but she stopped herself before writing anything. He didn’t force her to do this, did he? No, he simply posed a question, a proposition, and she was the one who took him up on it. This was her doing, no one else was to blame. With inhuman effort, Mikasa opened her eyes, nodding at her mirror reflection before pushing herself from the sink and taking a few careful steps towards the bathroom’s exit. She could do this. She could do anything.

It was hell, but Mikasa managed. A few hours that felt like an eternity later, she was once again walking to where she parked her bike, quietly congratulating herself. That was until she reached her means of transportation, realizing that her crusade was not yet over. The ride home wouldn’t be nice to her backside.

One journey to hell and back later, Mikasa pulled up at their house, breathing heavily. This was taxing. As Eren’s car was still missing, she judged that he was at the hospital, pulling long hours as usual. Not that she minded, at least she could take a shower in peace and calm herself down. In the bathroom, she debated whether she should pull the beads out, but in the end decided against it. Instead, Mikasa focused on cleaning herself as much as she could, putting razor to the few hairs on her body that managed to appear since she last shaved. Looking into the mirror, Mikasa took in her naked form, watching the body she knew so well. Her wide shoulders, steel ropes of muscle beneath the pale, once again hairless smooth skin, moving gracefully anytime she did, the small firm mounds on her chest and the valley of abdominals underneath. What she didn’t want to pay much attention to was the lower part, the place between her strong, endless legs that was calling for her attention, yet she kept denying herself. Mikasa was on the brink here, just thinking about all the stuff that was at her disposal. Few minutes alone with the Hitachi wand and she would finally cum and cum hard. Eren would understand….

No. Closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing instead, Mikasa hung her head, her short hair creating a half-curtain to hide as much of her face as it could. She went through a lot for Eren today, so he better take good care of her. Otherwise, she would make him know just how displeasing this whole experience was. Pushing back her inner lust demon, Mikasa left the bathroom in search of some clothes, not even bothering to wrap her body in a towel as she thought that she’s still home alone. Yet she was wrong.

“Hello there kitten.”

A voice to her left made her jump, and Mikasa’s body reacted on its own, taking a defensive stance before she fully realized who spoke.

“Damn, I’ve been home for not even five minutes and already my fiancé feels like beating me up.”, Eren said from his seat on the bed, “Domestic violence is really no joke.”

He still had his shirt on with an undone tie around the neck, meaning that his statement about just coming home was a true one.

“Then again,”, he continued, eyeing her naked form, “maybe we could arrange something if you keep this dress code that is…”

Whatever Eren wanted to say next was left in the air as Mikasa all but pounced on him, sealing her lips on his upturned ones. The sudden motion was a mistake in retrospect, as it made the beads shift significantly and she moaned right into his mouth, a sound that didn’t escape his attention.

“You liked my idea, I take it?”, he asked.

“Hated it.”, Mikasa corrected him, “But did it anyway.”

“Whole day?”

“Whole day.”

“Damn…”, Eren shook his head, “You really are something else babe.”

“It’s been a long time…”

Mikasa let the end of the sentence hang in the air, hoping that Eren will understand what she was implying. She was literally naked, sitting in his lap and desperate not only by the long dry streak but also by having those damn anal beads in her ass the whole day. Two weeks man, come on.

“It was a long time.”, He agreed, hands coming to rest on Mikasa’s hips, “Long time since I’ve seen you like this.”

Mikasa was just about to suggest that they could perhaps start their weekend right and do something about it, but then Eren’s eyes darkened and he leaned in, lips grazing the shell of her ear as he whispered.

“You know what else I missed? I missed seeing you kneel in front of me with that pouty look on your face, I missed tying you up and teasing you until you cry, begging me for release. I missed pushing my cock into your throat and holding it there while you struggle in my grip, desperate for air. I missed flipping you over and spanking your ass while you sob into the sheets. I missed forcing the safeword out of you with the cane, going until your ass is red and sore and then fucking it, so hard that it makes you scream.”

Eyes almost popping out of her skull, Mikasa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It wasn’t that Eren didn’t do those things to her, he did that and worse, but talking about it so casually wasn’t usual for him. He was silent now, making Mikasa wonder if she should say something too. Did he want to hear how much she enjoyed controlling his release with the cock ring, making him beg for it and denying him over and over again, edging him until he couldn’t speak anymore. Should she tell him that she also missed him underneath her, worshipping her legs. Mikasa would never have guessed that having her boots kissed would turn her on, yet Eren somehow managed to do that anytime he did it. How she missed pegging his pretty ass, how she liked that it always reduced him into a groaning mess, how fucking the lights out of him felt so good. But before she could voice any of these, Eren moved first, snapping his hips up and pushing her down on the bed. He moved fast, stretching her whole body and trapping both of her wrists in one of his hands above her head, pinning Mikasa down.  

“In fact, I’ve been missing it so much that I feel like refreshing my memory tonight.”

Eren’s voice was still just above a whisper, a throaty hum that traveled through Mikasa’s whole body and left her shivering. The hand that wasn’t holding her own arms down also moved, sliding down her body.

“What do you say Miki, wanna be a good girl for me tonight?”

She swallowed hard, hyper-aware of his touch that was now tracing the firm shapes of her abs on its journey to that one place she needed to be touched at the most.

“I’d love to…”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’d love to, sir.”, she quickly corrected herself.

“Would you really?”, Eren pulled out a thinking expression, the traveling hand now resting just above Mikasa’s mound, “Then tell me, what would you have me do to you?”

“What? You want me to…”

“I want you to express your desires kitten.”, his voice was back in the authoritative tone, allowing no discussion, “Speak.”

He wanted her to what, beg him to dominate her? Eren never lacked in imagination, meaning that whatever this was it was most likely just another way of having her submit to him. Eren didn’t want only Mikasa’s body, he wanted her mind too, wanted to know every deep dark fantasy she had locked away. And why should she hold back? She yearned for him, for his touch, today’s events in combination with being naked in the same room as Eren made Mikasa more than desperate. Maybe it was really the time to speak her mind, to ask for all the filth he promised her. Because she loved it so fucking much.

“I want you to tie my hands behind my back,” she began, voice quivering just a tiny little bit, “I want you to force me to kneel and slide that thick cock of yours into my throat as deep as you can go. I want to gag on the length, struggle for breath while you keep me there, not letting go until I’m close to passing out.”

In reaction to her finally speaking out, or maybe to make her continue, Eren’s hand finally moved, fingers moving to touch her where the wetness was concentrated. Still very slow, he caressed the outer part of her sex, waiting for Mikasa to go on. So, she did.

“After you cum in my mouth, I want you to pull me to the bed, tie me to it, so tight that I can’t move an inch. Then you’ll tease me, with your hands, your mouth, the wand or other toys, make me beg and cry and curse you, completely soaked and desperate for you.”

Eren was very much enjoying this, judging from his agitated breathing, and to reward her he finally moved his hand again, spreading her lower lips with a practiced movement and dipping one tip inside to tease that hidden pearl.

“And then?”, he breathed into her ear.

“Then, after you had your fill of edging me, then I want you to fuck me, slow and hard,”, Mikasa’s breath hitched as Eren continued with the expert movements of his hand, rubbing her clit in a memorized pattern he knew she liked, “I want to feel your cock deep inside me, to feel your mouth on my nipples, to have you play with the pearls in my ass. I want to cum from you fucking me and have the beads pulled out mid-orgasm because that feeling is just out of this world.”

“That’s it?”

“Maybe….”, Mikasa looked at Eren, eyes half-lidded, meeting his dark gaze with her own, similarly aroused one, “Or maybe you can fuck my ass too if you feel like it.”

To her great dismay, Eren pulled his fingers out of her, sitting up.

“Well, that’s quite a list. We better get started then.”, eyes moving over her body, he stopped at her throat, frowning, “You seem to be missing something kitten, why don’t you go fetch your collar for me.”

With a nod, Mikasa forced her body to move, but her attempt to stand up was quickly stopped.

“Do move like you are supposed to. You don’t want to make me mad, do you kitten?”

Ah, so he wanted her to crawl. Giving in to Eren’s wish, Mikasa dropped down to her knees, making her way on all fours to where the collar was. At the same time, she could hear Eren moving behind her, walking over to where their toys were stored, making her stomach twist in expectation. She described what she wanted from him rather well, and Eren was never the kind to leave Mikasa wanting. Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder to see what he was picking, she crawled to where her jewelry was, opening the drawer. Having her collar there, among the normal necklaces could be viewed as weird, but then again it was not so different from some of the chokers Mikasa had stashed there. Picking the collar up, she ran her thumb against the silvery letter spelling out her name, set in the soft black leather, sighing. She loved it.

When Mikasa reached the bed again, holding the collar carefully between her teeth, Eren was already back, watching her. Even like this, on all fours, Mikasa didn’t lose the certain predatory grace in her movements, her crawling wasn’t awkward in the least. On the contrary, she moved with the agility of a tiger. Seeing the ropes of muscle move beneath her skin, Eren couldn’t help but think that Mikasa must have been a warrior in her past life, an assassin or ninja, a person who murdered with no remorse. Her body was a weapon, easily capable of killing someone barehanded and the famous icy glares Mikasa could do, the ones that made your knees buckle, made a man realize that. Eren faced her many times in the ring, only sparring that is, but the way she moved there made him regret anyone who fought her in a fully serious mode. Mikasa was scary if she wanted to, as Eren could attest to, being the subject of her wrath a few times. Not many, she was not the kind of person to anger easily, but when she did… Let’s say it was much better to keep Mikasa happy, okay?

And the fact that she willingly gave control over her carefully shaped body to him, let him tie her up in ways that made all her strength useless, being completely at Eren’s mercy, that turned him on like nothing else. Watching her struggle uselessly in his clutches, desperate but unable to help herself, that was simply amazing, and Eren couldn’t wait to do it to her again. He knew that she wanted it.

When his warrior girl crawled close enough, Eren reached down to take the collar from her teeth, smiling inwardly when she stretched her neck immediately, eager to have it on her. Happy to oblige, Eren collared her, closing the leather around her throat. The gentle but firm pressure there always put Mikasa in the right mindset, every breath reminded her that for now, she’s Eren’s kitten. One that he loved to death, no doubt, but he could do some very mean things to her too. Seeing her looking up at him, biting her bottom lip, Eren couldn’t hold back. Hooking a finger through the metal circle in her collar, Eren pulled hard. Mikasa made an adorable sound of surprise in the back of her throat when her mouth collided with his, but she was quick to adapt and relax her jaw, surrendering to the kiss. Prying her mouth open, Eren slid his tongue alongside hers, prodding into her mouth with no resistance from her side. When they separated, a string of saliva connected them, so messy the kiss was, but it did nothing to break the spell.

“Good girl.”

Making Mikasa stand up and turn around after, he pulled her arms behind her back, placing a pair of cuffs on both her wrists and elbows, completely immobilizing her hands. Seeing her from behind, Eren did notice the end of the string coming from her ass, the anal beads still deep inside. A whole day, huh? Eren had some experience with similar stuff, as Mikasa introduced him to his prostate and all the wonderful pleasure it could give him, but this was still a noteworthy feat in his book. With her arms tied, she stood straight as an arrow, eyes forward, waiting for his next order. A properly trained submissive this one.

“Turn around. Kneel.”

Mikasa obeyed immediately, sliding down to the ground in front of Eren.

“Now, take my cock inside your mouth.”

She looked up at his face, then back at his crotch, unsure of what to do. As Eren was still fully dressed, there were certain barriers between her mouth and the desired prize, but it seemed like he was leaving her to fend on her own in this one, unwilling to help. All right then. Leaning forward, Mikasa fished for that metal part that opened the zipper of Eren’s jeans, trying and failing multiple times before she managed to catch with her teeth, dragging it down. After that, she had to use her mouth to drag his underwear down, enough so his length would go free, and while it was not the easiest thing to do she managed. Oh, he shaved down there, she noticed, the pubic hair completely gone. Apparently Eren felt like mirroring her, as she had also removed that stripe of hair she kept above her mound before. There, now Mikasa could do what she craved to for two weeks straight and open her mouth wide, taking Eren’s cock inside. Without her hands it was a bit harder to give him all the pleasure she wanted, but Mikasa did her best, licking and sucking all over his length, worshipping Eren as much as she could. Fisting a hand in her hair, he pushed, insistent that she takes him deeper, greedy. Mikasa didn’t mind, she welcomed the help as she relaxed her throat, letting him slide deep enough to make her gag. Eren gave her a bit of air after, but it wasn’t long before he moved again, pressing her back down. She certainly appreciated that he was completely bare down there now, the whole ordeal made that much easier. Insatiable, he forced himself deep into her throat, again and again, holding her down for a long time, enough to make Mikasa’s hands jerk uselessly at her back where they were bound, unable to help. Gulping in the sweet air when he finally released his grip, Mikasa looked up at Eren with teary eyes, feeling a pang of pride in her chest when she saw just how red his face was. He was certainly enjoying himself.

“Good girl…. So good….”, he praised her, “You ready for more?”

Mikasa nodded and opened her mouth sticking out the tongue, completely giving herself to him. Once again guiding himself inside her, Eren couldn’t help but groan again when he felt how eagerly she began sucking at the tip.

“I’m going to cum inside your mouth.”, he announced.

The playful way her tongue pressed against his oozing slit was more than enough of an answer. Eren came, teeth clenched, the hand fixed in Mikasa’s hair flexing, the orgasm wrecking through his body.

“Fuck kitten.”, he groaned, watching her throat work underneath him, swallowing loudly, “You really are too good at this.”

Mikasa chose not to respond and focus on licking him clean instead. When she did let him go, finally, popping his considerably softer length from her mouth, Eren pulled her up. Sitting down, he made her lie down over his lap, lovingly caressing her beautiful ass. Then he slapped it. Hard.

“Count.”, he ordered, voice rough.

A spanking wouldn’t be much of a reward for such a nice blowjob, normally, but with the anal beads inside her, it was different. Every time Eren hit her, they shifted, making her moan and cry out at the same time, creating rather delicious sounds. Knowing what he was doing, he switched between hitting her left and right ass cheek, making sure the beads moved as much as they could. Sometimes she forgot to count, her voice lost in the sounds Eren kept spanking out of her, and she got an extra spicy hit as a punishment. In shaky words, Mikasa was forced all the way up to fifteen before Eren let her go. When she stood up, there were tears in her eyes of both pain and pleasure, and the fire between her legs was an inferno by now, making her rub her thighs together, hoping for relief.

Eren turned her around and undid the bindings around her arms. She wanted to be tied to the bed, and they had just the thing for that. Mikasa didn’t say a word of protest when he pushed her back down, making her lie down on the mattress, pulling the straps from beneath the bed and securing them around her wrists and ankles. Soft as it was, her spanked ass still protested against the spreadeagle she was forced in. Making sure that he pulled the bindings tight, Eren turned his back to her for a second, sorting his thoughts while making that short walk back towards the adult toy box. He needed a moment to get his piece to work again after she sucked the soul right out of him, but that didn’t mean that Mikasa had to wait empty handed.

“I got you something.”, coming back to the bed, he leaned over his tied victim, holding the toy up, “Remember this?”

He saw the collar bob as she swallowed.

“That’s the…”

“The two in one.”, turning the toy on, Eren watched it vibrate in his hand for a second before turning it off again, “It worked great last time, so I’m sure you’ll be satisfied this time around as well.”

Not really waiting for an answer, he moved between her legs, held helplessly open by the bindings. Mikasa couldn’t deny Eren his fun even if she wanted to. She was wet for sure, but Eren smeared both the toy and her opening with a bit of lube nevertheless, liking the way she moaned and writhed on his fingers alone. She really was craving any touch on her intimate parts. Pushing the toy in, he made sure it’s positioned correctly, pressed against both Mikasa’s weak spot and clit at the same time. Mikasa wanted Eren to edge her, she said so herself, and he was ready to deliver. The toy turned on, quietly buzzing, while she moaned out load, body trashing, pulling at the bindings uselessly.

“I’ve just realized that I’m terribly overdressed for this.”, he said, watching her struggle with a grin. It was always a treat, seeing how Mikasa flexed her muscles involuntarily, how nicely they stood out beneath the skin as she tried to free herself from the cuffs.

“I’m going to take a shower, don’t wander off.”, Eren finished.

In response, Mikasa fixed him with one of her trademark death glares.

“I hate you.”, she hissed, teeth clenched, tears leaking from her almond shaped eyes.

For that, Eren increased the vibrations by a little bit, watching her throw her head back and cry out, legs shaking. And he waited, the bastard, waited until she almost came before lowering it again, denying Mikasa any sort of release. The pure desperation and lust burning in her eyes made him weak, weak enough that he moved back to the bed, claiming her tired mouth in another deep kiss.

“Love you too.”, he gruffly whispered against her lips after, slipping into the bathroom before he completely loses control over himself.

In short, naked, tied up and sweaty Mikasa was fucking hot, and the urge to give in and fuck her was strong. Luckily, Eren was stronger, and the cold shower helped. He still heard her, all the sounds that the toy kept forcing her to make, heard the bindings groan as she pulled at them with all her inhuman strength. But they held and so did Eren, standing under the water and drawing the delicious torment out for Mikasa, knowing that while now she hated him for it, secretly she loved it. After all, Mikasa was the one who suggested that Eren edges her this evening, it wasn’t even his idea now, was it. Meaning if she wanted to find someone to blame for her good fortune or misfortune, she didn’t have to look very far. For now, Eren was content to just enjoy the water beating into his back, already planning what he will do to his kitten once he gets back to her.

In the other room, Mikasa regretted ever letting the word “edge” leave her lips. She blamed Eren, his dexterous fingers playing with her while she spoke, literally rubbing the words out of her mouth. Now she had sore mouth and throat, her ass was on fire but none of that mattered compared to what was happening between her legs, the toy wreaking havoc on her weakest parts while not fulfilling any of the needs it kept creating. Mikasa was burning, the fire too much to handle, writhing around on the bed, or rather trying to writhe and being kept in place by the tightly pulled bindings. Helpless as a kitten, Mikasa couldn’t even curse anymore, her breathing too agitated for that and it surely didn’t help when she heard Eren whistle in the shower, just a few metes away. He was a devil, no doubt, no man could be this evil.

Mikasa didn’t even notice when he came back, eyes closed and teeth clenched while the shocks ran through her body, making it move in small involuntary shrugs. Nearing the place of her torment, or as others call it: the bed, Eren cleared his throat, startling her. Her eyes snapped open, immediately focusing on his face while her lips curled into a snarl, and Eren was sure that she was about to give him a few choice words. But they never came.

This was not fair, Mikasa thought, eyes darting over her captor. How was she supposed to be mad at him when he was this fucking hot? She just couldn’t. Tan skinned, tall, taller than her, broad shouldered, planes of hard muscle with defined edges, Eren had a better body than most of the male models she worked with at the agency, and that was not all. His face, clean shaven to show the sharp line of his jaw, damp long hair falling freely on his shoulders, and the eyes, the damn eyes. So green and sharp that Mikasa could stare into their fire for hours without getting bored. Naked to match her, finally, she could also clearly see that Eren was more than ready for round two, the thick length between his legs fully erect. He looked like a statue of an ancient god of love, coming to grace her with his presence.

“Like what you see?”, he asked, teasingly, easily following her gaze with his own.

Mikasa nodded eagerly, thirsty as she was for him, craving to get fucked after all this foreplay.

“Please sir, I’ve been good….”

I deepthroated your cock and got spanked for it, was the other part she was not saying. Clicking his tongue, Eren reached a decision, climbing into the bed and moving to hover over her shaking bound form, facing Mikasa’s flushed cheeks and teary eyes. Dipping down, he kissed her again, hard, sucking at her bottom lip with force. He ravaged her mouth, taking it for his own, swallowing all her needy moans as the toy was still going strong inside her until Mikasa had to break away to breathe, chest heaving.

“Beg for it then.”, he growled, teeth sinking into that upper part of her neck left uncovered by the leather of the collar. The two weeks long dry spell left Mikasa’s neck free of love bites, but Eren was about to fix that.

“You want me to fuck you? Then beg for my cock.”

Breathing shakily beneath him, Mikasa did her best to organize her thoughts. It was fairly difficult, thanks to the number of stimulations she was receiving, from Eren’s teeth sinking into her skin to that tireless vibrator inside her, one that kept affecting the beads in her ass, making them move too. She fucking needed this.

“Sir, please, I need you…your co-cock inside me, please.”

Eren snorted where he was marking her pale neck, clearly unimpressed. Mikasa had to try harder.

“I’m just a needy s-slut for you sir, I beg you to spread my legs open and fuck my dripping pu-pussy. I’m your wh… whore sir, I haven’t touched myself for two weeks, and I’m desperate to finally have you inside me, to feel your massive cock hitting deep and hard into all the right places.”

Eren’s mouth stopped as he listened intently, Mikasa’s dirty mouth getting his full attention. That the usually timid girl was speaking like this was a proof of how desperate she really was.

“I’ve been dreaming about this, being tied up and helpless underneath you, fully in your power, it always makes me so wet.”

She would show him, if she could, press her hips upwards and rub her needy dripping pussy against him, hump Eren’s leg like a sex-starved maniac. But she couldn’t, held down by the bindings, so all Mikasa could do was talk.

“So please, sir, make use of me, my body, ravage me as you see fit. I would be deeply honored if you chose to use this slut’s cunt to provide pleasure for you.”

Eren was staring at her now, face unreadable, until he shook his head.

“Jesus, Miki, you really are expressive if you want to.”

With a quick dedicated move, Eren pulled the toy out of her, forcing Mikasa to whimper and clench around the sudden emptiness. After that, he untied her legs, but if she thought that he’s going to let her be free Mikasa was horribly mistaken. Folding her, Eren moved her all the way up, tying each of her ankles to its respective wrist, left to left and right to right. This position was rather taxing, and Mikasa was very glad for how flexible she was, allowing Eren to do that to her without her body protesting. Much. Like this, she was completely spread open, even more exposed than she was, her most delicate parts fully on display. But there was a time and place to be bashful, and now certainly wasn’t now. With his kitten suspended exactly as he wanted her to, Eren climbed in between her legs, eyeing his glistening prize.

“You’ve convinced me.”, he said, “I’m definitely going to fuck you now.”

“Thank you, sir.”, the end of Mikasa’s response was drawn out into a moan, as he chose just that moment to finally push inside her. With her legs obscenely spread as they were, it was way too easy to find his way into her wet tight heat, going on until he bottomed out, pressed right against her.

“You like that?”, he breathed into her ear, snapping his hips up, “You like it when I fuck you?”

“I lo-love it sir. Please…”

Whatever Mikasa wanted to ask for was left ambiguous because Eren gave in to the temptation and moved. Leaning forward, he supported his weight on the headboard above Mikasa’s head, using his left hand to take hold of her face, forcing her to look at him. Mikasa’s eyes were wide, mouth dropping open as he fucked her in deep unrushed movements. Taking advantage of her slack jaw, Eren pushed his thumb into her mouth, loving how she automatically sucked it, primal instincts taking over her. Mikasa was losing herself rather quickly as Eren was giving her exactly what she craved, fulfilling her needs the way she enjoyed the most. Letting go of the headboard, Eren gave up his support in order to press two fingers against her clit, rubbing the tiny circles. He would make her cum, and make her cum hard, a reward for all Mikasa’s good behavior. And when she started clenching, when her eyes rolled back, he pulled the thumb out of her mouth, reaching underneath the place where they were joined and finding that end of the string. Tugging at it, he began pulling the anal beads out of her, very slowly, drawing it out for her. The first pearl made her moan. The second made her scream. And the third finally made Mikasa cum, keeling her over.

Her orgasm came crashing down, making her body writhe as much as it could in its current position, the finish drawn out by Eren’s efforts. He kept rubbing her clit, moving inside her, tugging the beads out, and before she realized what was happening Mikasa’s orgasm bridged into another one, her screams rising in pitch and intensity both. She didn’t even hear when Eren cursed, his own finish claiming him at the same time when the last of the beads came free, and Mikasa’s ass was finally free of that toy.

When she came to, Eren was leaning over her, breathing heavily.

“You okay?”, he asked, a bit of concern in his voice.

“Mhmm. Just sore as hell.”, she nodded towards the places where her ankles were bound, “Maybe you could untie me?”

He returned her grin.

“Maybe I could.”

Undoing the cuffs, Eren freed her from the bindings, pulling her boneless weight onto his chest after.

“Wanna take a bath after you calm down?”

Mikasa hummed in agreement, pressing a loving smooch to the underside of Eren’s smooth jaw.

“But don’t get too comfortable.”, he continued, “I still have to take your ass, right? I mean, you asked for it.”

Seeing her shocked expression, Eren couldn’t help but laugh. Not that Mikasa was opposed to anal sex, but right now she was completely spent and wanted nothing more than to just relax.

“Don’t worry, it can wait.”,

Eren’s dexterous fingers moved again, rubbing soothing circles into her neck, using that small space left uncovered by the collar. The one that he still didn’t allow her to take off, she realized. Arms wrapped around Eren’s torso, she left that thought drift aimlessly, deciding not to pursue it. Instead, she focused on that unnatural warmth he radiated, seeping into her muscles and making her melt from the inside. So comfy, getting even better when Eren pressed a kiss to Mikasa’s temple, whispering after.

“After all, we have the whole weekend just for us.”