#me posting more than once in the span of a few days

[ereshai]

15 Questions and 15 Mutuals

Thanks for tagging me @mcbangle

Were you named after anyone?

Only in the sense that my mom heard someone use the name and liked it.

When was the last time you cried?

Thursday

Do you have kids?

Yes.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yeah, I think so.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I think it depends on the situation. Probably how they're acting? If they're being polite or a jerk.

What’s your eye color?

Brown.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings.

Any special talents?

Nah, I'm just doing the best I can with the things I need to do.

Where were you born?

West Germany (now just Germany)

What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, cross-stitch, logic puzzles.

Have any pets?

Unfortunately not anymore. Please see question 2.

What sports do you play/have you played?

I did gymnastics for a bit when I was a kid. Otherwise sports and I are not a good combination.

How tall are you?

About average height. I might be shrinking a bit though :(

Favorite subject in school?

English.

Dream job?

No such thing. I don't want to work. I wouldn't mind doing things that interest me, if they don't come with other people being assholes. Self-employed, maybe? I do like my current job, but it's essentially customer service and I could do with less of that aspect of it.

Tagging: @redsector-a @oft-goes-awry @voldiebuns and whoever else is interested.

[yammpi3]

𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙆𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞 [𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨]

synopsis. You were a former hero commission hero but when you made a simple mistake in a mission the commission sent you on they deemed you unfit and fired you, hence made you out to be a villain to the public. A few years later you meet your old partner Hawks out on his nightly patrol then you guys make up….made out .. :3

— content warnings. sorta plot with smut, eating out, p to v, kissing, sex sex sex, not really coordinated well? i think? dom/sub hawks

— W.C 2.3k

— authors note. This has been rotting in my drafts for like a year now but i thought i should post something…so..heres this!! Im rlly sorry if it’s formatted kinda weirdly, imo the smut is also written sorta weird but i think thats just me..overthinking it ANYWAYS enjoy reading <33 also Thank you FOR 100 FOLLOWERS?? i didn’t expect my blog would reach that much so TYTY.

Hawks sighed heavily, leaning back in his office desk chair, elbows propping on the armrests. He rubbed his tired eyes, tilting his head back, attempting to avoid eye contact with the stack of paperwork that lay out before him.

Every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion. It felt like he had been sitting in this same spot for days, poring over reports and documents in an endless cycle of busy work. As the number-two hero, the public demanded nothing but his very best. They expected him to always be alert and swift in responding to any crisis, dealing with volatile situations and dangerous villains with calm precision. 

But they didn't see this part. They didn't witness the countless late nights spent filling out forms, compiling statistics, and attending meetings after meetings. No cameras captured the headaches induced by mind-numbing bureaucracy or the frustration of dealing with petty politics. This was the hidden cost of his elevated rank—an incessant paper-pushing grindstone that wore him down more than any actual fight ever could. 

 

Slowly dragging his hands down his face, Hawks sighed again as the aches and knots of tension complained loudly in his neck and shoulders. For a brief moment, he considered using his feathers to shred just a few stray documents, to do less work. 

He stretched his arms over his head and rolled his tense muscles, his wings fluttering restlessly behind him. All he wanted at that moment was to forget. To spread his wings and fly through open skies, feeling the wind ruffle through his feathers as he left his troubles far below.

 

Tilting his chair back as far as it would go, he gave a long-suffering look at the piles of work that towered precariously around him, silently pleading with it all to spontaneously catch fire or simply vanish into thin air. With a resigned sigh, Hawks dropped all four chair legs back to the floor and reluctantly pulled the topmost file towards him once more, bracing himself for another grind of the ever-turning wheel.

Hawks rubbed his tired eyes once more, feeling his motivation drain away with each mundane paragraph he read. At this rate, he'd be here all night and well into the morning. With a groan, he tossed the file back onto the pile, temporarily defeated. Maybe a quick break was what he needed to recharge his focus. 

 

Pushing away from his desk, Hawks stood and stretched out his cramped body to its full height, his wings unfolding to their full span. A midnight flight around the city was just what he needed. The cool night air and darkened streets would do wonders for clearing his cluttered mind. 

Stepping out onto his office balcony, Hawks took a few steps back, then launched himself into the sky with his wings. He flew high, circling up towards the crowning heights of the skyscrapers that shone below. Closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath of the fresher air, feeling tensions beginning to melt away already. 

 

As he glided back down towards street level, Hawks scanned the sidewalks lazily while lost in thought. He was mulling over the options when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. 

Your shadow slipped between alleyways, scanning for any civilians in the area. Suddenly flashes of red nearing a rooftop drew your eye—a familiar winged silhouette.

Going on a nearby rooftop, you spotted Hawks looking down, trying to find who or what he saw. 

You and Hawks used to know each other pretty well in your teen years when you dreamed of being a great hero. So when you were selected by  the Commission to become one, you were ecstatic. But from day one, Keigo Takami made things... complicated.

You two went way back to your training days, though you mostly kept your head down back then. Once in the pro scene though, Takami always found ways to rile you up during sessions, whether with sly taunts or risky stunts that pushed protocol to the limit. 

Part of you wanted to throttle that arrogant asshole, but another part couldn't deny the thrill he made you feel. 

Late nights spent training turned into more..private scenarios. For a time, it was nice to find solace in each other. But then came the ruling—you'd been deemed "not hero material" after one mistake, ruining your future. That's when Takami tried to connect with you again, but the hero commission wouldn't even allow him to be close to you to not damage the reputation he already made with the public. 

"You're up rather late for a hero," you whispered directly into his ear, barely suppressing a chuckle at his startled flinch. Golden eyes met yours warily, yet he made no move to escape our intimate embrace. 

"I'm off duty," was his measured reply. "And you?" Smoke clung thick to the memories in his eyes. 

Your fingers, carefully gloved, traced the proud arch of his wings, feeling tension bleed away slowly. "Care for some company, Keigo?"

He held your gaze steadily, considering. At last he nodded, extending a hand. “Not that I can shake you off anyway,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You sat together on the secluded rooftop, settling close against one another. As you caught up, you both couldn't help but feel deprived of each other's touch; it had been far too long since you'd seen one another face to face. Sure, he'd heard about you through others in the commission, but being here together was different somehow. 

When your voices at last fell silent, a gentle touch turned your chin to meet Hawks' searching eyes. "Y/N…" he murmured, leaning in so your faces were mere inches apart. One of his wings stretched out to block any view from the street below, enveloping you both in its feathery embrace. 

Hawks closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft yet insistent kiss.

One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, as the other wrapped around your waist to draw you flush against his body. You felt even better than he remembered. 

 

When your lips parted under him, Hawks held back a groan as he rested his forehead against yours as you both panted for air. Wisps of steam rose between the two of you in the chill night. 

If he tasted you fully, it would undo his last shred of willpower.

“You're going to be the end of me.." Hawks murmured thickly. Already, he ached to have more, but taking you here against the railing would be too brazen, even for his recklessness. 

"Then take me somewhere more...private then," you shot back in a sinful whisper. 

With a sly smile, Hawks swept you into his arms in a bridal carry, wings already prepared for launch. "Hold on tight.”

 

Hawks kicked off from the roof of the building and took flight, relishing your tight grip around his shoulders. The thrill of having you in his arms sent adrenaline surging through his veins. 

He landed lightly on the balcony of his high-rise apartment, still holding you securely against his chest. Your masked face was turned up to meet his gaze.

"I.. I really missed you," Hawks murmured, pressing you back against the wall with his body. He caged you in with outspread wings, feathers gently ghosting your skin. 

 

"Me too.." you replied. Your hands came up to roam his body just as eagerly.

Hawks captured your lips in a searing kiss, conveying all his pent-up needs and desires without restraint. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet he'd never felt more alive. 

 

Kicking open the balcony doors, he swept you inside and laid you down on his plush sofa. His hands worked busily to remove your mask, wanting nothing between you and him; clothing fell piece by piece until nothing was left. 

 

"Say you want this," Hawks pleaded roughly, desperate for your answer. 

Your intoxicating laughter rang out as you pulled him against your body. "I want all of you, Keigo." 

Hawks' hands roamed your body eagerly, relearning every curve as his lips traveled along your jawline. You sighed contentedly, arching into his touch while undoing the fastenings of his hero costume with practiced expertise. 

 

Slowly, methodically, he kissed his way down the delicate column of your throat. Hawks lingered there to suckle your rapid pulse, eliciting breathy moans. His name falling from your lips in such a manner sent fresh spikes of arousal through him.

 

As you lay bare under him, Hawks paused to simply take in the sublime vision of your naked form, illuminated by the moonlight. "You're so..beautiful," he whispered in awe, tracing idle patterns upon your sensitized flesh.

 

Your hands delved into the downy feathers at his wings' bases, eliciting a guttural groan. The way you caressed his most sensitive areas, teasing but not quite enough, tested Hawks' faltering control. He nipped lightly at the swell of your breast in retaliation.

Tracing a tortuous path down your torso with wet kisses and love bites, Hawks' fingers dipped between your thighs. He chuckled at discovering your slick arousal, already swollen and desperate for friction. Slowly, he circled your clit, gathering your arousal onto his fingers.

 

"Please..." you begged wantonly, bucking your hips to chase more contact. But Hawks would loathe to grant your unspoken request so easily. He continued his maddening ministrations, coaxing you higher and higher with expert precision. Only when your keening cries bordered on anguish did he finally decide to sink two fingers deep inside.

 

The powerful rhythm he set drove you swiftly towards the peak. Hawks swallowed your hoarse screams of completion, savoring your intimate essence on his tongue.

"I've missed this..," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

 

Then his tongue delved into your slick arousal with deft, practiced strokes. Your responsive sighs and the way you grabbed Takami's hair only spurred him onward in his devotions. 

 

He alternated between broad, flat licks and focused flicks directly over your clit. When Keigo very lightly grazed his teeth along your folds, you keened and bucked again into his ministrations wildly. He hummed his approval, sending vibrations through your core.

 

It did not take long for you to climb once more towards the precipice, unraveling beautifully beneath his skilled mouth. Hawks drank deeply from your release, prolonging each aftershock with slow caresses of his tongue. Only when your quivering stopped did he withdraw, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he cleaned his glistening chin. 

 

As he swirled his tongue around his lips, savoring the last hints of you, you gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Your chest still heaved in languid aftershocks of pleasure, your limbs boneless and slack upon the plush cushions.

"Come here," you beckoned hoarsely, crooking a finger. Your body cried out to be filled after such thorough worship, muscles reflexively clenching around nothing inside. 

 

Hawks obeyed without hesitation, crawling up to drape himself over your welcoming form once more. You gripped his shoulders firmly, flipping your positions with a playful show of wiry strength, and smiled down at him wickedly. 

 

Grasping his aching length and rubbing the tip of his cock had him seeing stars. Hawks groaned unabashedly.

Slowly, you let him inside, savoring each velvet glide. Hawks bucked helplessly, claws scrabbling for purchase against the cushions as your sensual walls milked his length.

 

The pleasure you drew from Hawks was exquisite torture. Each roll of your hips sent fresh shockwaves through his twitching member, shattering his composure. He was reduced to begging, his nails scratched weakly at your thighs as you rode him to the brink. 

 

"Please...I need to come," Hawks gasped, moving his hips upward in frantic little thrusts. His cock throbbed painfully with the desperate need for release. 

You smiled down at him cruelly. "Beg for it." Your lips formed the words deliciously slowly, knowing their effect.

Hawks keened, wings fluttering uselessly. "Please let me cum p-please I wanna cum, I need..to please..” 

 

Suddenly, you bore down on him, grinding your pelvis against his in brutal circles. The new angle sent Hawks reaching his high with a raw cry. 

 

You quickly let him pull out as his cock pulsed and thick ropes of seed spilled forth, splattering his taut stomach in pearly ribbons. Hawks shuddered through wave after wave; your continued help milking every last drop from him. 

Breathless and spent, he could only lay pliantly as you leaned down to collect his essence on your fingers. Your wicked tongue flicked out to taste, making Hawks twitch anew in oversensitivity.

 

You smiled softly, your expression gentling as you gazed upon Hawks' flushed, panting form. His chest still heaved mightily in the aftermath of his climax.

 

Reverently, you traced light patterns on his ribs and pecs with delicate fingers, soothing away any last tremors. Hawks hummed appreciatively at your tender touch, grasping one of your hands to press a lingering kiss to the palm. 

 

"Come here, Birdie," you murmured, beckoning him into your open embrace. Hawks complied readily, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a contented sigh. Your legs tangled together comfortably as his wings folded around you both like a feathery blanket.

No threats of capture or duty rules could penetrate the sanctity of that moment. There, held securely within your arms, Hawks felt at once protected yet free—freed from the shackles of self-doubt and expectation. He belonged, body and soul, to one who accepted him fully without judgment or demand.

 

Drowsiness began to take hold as your rhythmic caresses through soft-down lulled Hawks towards slumber. "Stay?" he mumbled into your skin, his voice blurred by oncoming sleep yet filled with gentle hope. 

You kissed his forehead, followed by a whisper, "I’ll stay, promise." was the sweetest assurance Hawks could wish for.

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

[st4rr-girrl]

Stranger

M.R

Summary; You thought Mattheo was different, but he’s just like everyone else.

Warnings; swearing, mentions of sex, nsfw, underage smoking & drinking, angst. Douchebag Mattheo.

Inspired by Stranger - By Jhene Aiko

I ain’t posted in hella long im sorry if u thought I was dead xox 🥰🥰😘💋💋💋

Pt 2

We at 700+ followers yall!! I love u guys 🥺🥺💋❤️❤️

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

You tried to ignore the familiar feeling you would get each time you were around Mattheo. The stinging that tickled your irises each time you started to view him in a new light, each time you saw everybody else in his features.

Why was this such a common occurrence during the span of your relationship? You and Mattheo never talked, and if you did- it was only in bed. It was exhausting and you couldn't deny that.

He was starting to look more and more like the people who had used you in the past. The ones who discarded your well-being for their own sick pleasure. You stared at him from across the Slytherin table, an inexplainable sadness etched onto your tired features.

Mattheo was the last person you expected to turn out like a copy and paste of your past experiences.

It wasn’t always like this. He used to be lovingly attentive, affectionate and gentle with you.

He noticed your gaze, his brow arching in silent question. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, forcing your eyes off of him. He shrugged dismissively, recentering his attention to the conversation he was in the midst of.

What hurt even more, was the fact that you had told him about the others. Every single one of them that he had promised you he wasn’t like. And you trusted him.

But he lied.

He didn’t care. He never did. And if that information wasn’t crystal clear, you didn’t know what was.

Daphne nudged your side, her brows furrowing in concern as she scanned your melancholic features. “You alright, lovely?” She asked gently.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice quieter and shakier than you had intended— blinking back the tears that threatened to escape your glossy eyes. “I’m okay.”

She gave you an unbelieving look, but decided against being pushy. “Okay, babe. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” She offered a soft smile, her brows furrowing.

“Sure,” you replied, a grateful tone to your voice as you nodded.

She went back to chatting with Pansy, and you found your regretfully longing gaze flickering back to Mattheo. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Because it did. It hurt so bad.

He wasn’t paying you any mind, blatantly unconcerned despite the sadness he found in your expression. He boasted about something or other to Theo and Blaise— both of the boys watching him verbally show off in amusement. Usually, you would have been fond of the sight. He was an idiot, but he was your idiot. Or— well, he was.

It was routine for you now. This wasn’t your first rodeo— you knew how this worked.

So, the same night— when he laid you down in your dorm room, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. Not that he cared, or anything.

And when he left, you lied in bed— your gaze locked onto the ceiling. You’d lazily thrown a t-shirt and underwear back on— Mattheo nowhere to be seen. He didn’t even have the decency to stay back and make sure you were okay, and help clean you up. Not like he used to, anyways.

The hickeys and bite marks littering your skin were a constant reminder of what once was. Shame engulfed your body, an all too familiar feeling.

You couldn’t control the tears beginning to spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks in a rapid manner. You broke down, your body wracking with sobs— burying your face into a pillow to muffle said sobs.

When your roommates walked in, Daphne and Pansy, they immediately saw your state— rushing to your sides and consoling you as you fell apart. They shared a worried glance, knowing exactly what— or in this case, who— caused this.

Over the next few days, you’d been avoiding him. Daphne and Pansy both covered for you, giving Mattheo bullshit and half assed excuses as to why you couldn’t see him.

But, it’s not like he was actively searching for you, anyways.

You thought you were indifferent to this by now. You wanted to be. But you actually trusted him this time, you loved him.

But as you stared at him from across the Potions classroom, watching as he flirted shamelessly with girls who hung onto his every word— you knew you’d never become accustomed to the hurt and pain that followed betrayal.

You knew you had to cut things off, and that’s exactly what you did. You couldn’t allow yourself to mope around aimlessly for any longer.

After class, you pulled him into an empty hallway and went off— cussing him out in an emotion fueled rant. He got what he wanted, and he no longer needed you. He made that very obvious.

He replied with a simple, “okay,” before turning and disappearing down the hallway. You watched as he left, the sound of your heart shattering echoing throughout your own ears.

———-

[hheaven-sentt]

devotion

summary: because love doesn't quite capture it | leon kennedy x partner!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: depictions of injuries, angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol consumption, yearning, mutual pining, partners to friends to lovers

notes: BACK FROM THE DEAD W A VENGEANCE. my semester has finished and my second one doesn't start until january so i will be posting for once. college is kicking my ass like all the time so it puts everything else on pause for me anyway ily all | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dress feels itchy against your skin. You don’t want to go to this event, so you can’t imagine how Leon feels. He doesn’t even like when you thank him for doing the dishes, so you wonder how he might behave up on a stage to receive a medal. You stretch behind you, reaching for the zipper. Wordlessly, Leon turns to you and zips it up himself. Of course he does; that’s just Leon.

“This is weird,” he says. It’s barely a whisper, breath dusting over your shoulder as he says it. You nod with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you return. You watch his eyes in the mirror. They hover somewhere on your forehead. “Not normal, but not weird,” “I think it’s weird,” he says, and steps away. You nod again, because what else can you say?

Working with Leon has its ups and downs. He’s too quiet some days, and you have to fill in the gaps yourself. Or he’s too loud–sometimes without even saying anything–and you have to figure out how to deal with it. Or he’s just Leon; he laughs and jokes, he helps cook dinner, he doesn’t talk about work. You like those days the best. Had you seen these versions of Leon when you were assigned to him almost ten years ago, you would’ve laughed. Ten years ago, you couldn’t imagine being this close to someone, to care as much as you do about someone you’re paid to be around.

You suppose there’s layers to it, layers you haven’t fully unraveled yet. You know only a few things for certain: Leon is your partner, he is also your unofficial roommate, and you care about him more than you care about others.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the light from the hallway making him look like an angel descending to relay a message from God. You swallow and nod.

“Just need my shoes,” you say, moving to the bed and sliding your shoes across the floor to be in front of you. Leon bends down without a word to help you fasten them.

When he looks up at you, he looks less like your partner and more like someone you’re meant to love. An ache resonates within you, a need to reach out a brush your fingers through his darkened hair. He shifts his gaze to your upper arm. Gingerly, he runs the tips of his fingers over a scar that spans from your elbow to your clavicle. It’s ugly and red, courtesy of the nasty burn you’d sustained there a few years ago. The ridged skin is unfeeling as Leon skirts his hand across it, tracing it from your elbow to your shoulder.

“I remember when you got this,” he says absently. His fingers dance across your skin, and you wish the scar didn’t run so deep so you could feel his ministrations. “Thought I’d lost you,”

He says nothing more, just stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off the bed. You take it, and he hauls you up with ease. He twists out of the room like a ghost. You follow him, like you always do.

The scar is one of a few you’ve come to own. You remember the day you got it, too. For whatever reason, you replay the moment in your head over and over in the taxi on the way to the gala. It makes your skin burn.

It was supposed to be a normal day, a normal mission. Go in, extract, get out. Three simple steps that you had done a hundred thousand times before. Leon stood beside you, always offering to enter a room first. You’ll admit, years removed from the situation, you should’ve been more careful, should’ve listened to what he was saying. But you were so angry at him. You felt weak, unnecessary. You remember shoving past him and through a door you hadn’t known was connected to a trigger. Almost as soon as your boot touched the concrete on the other side of the threshold, your hearing went out. It felt like you were standing miles away from a nuclear blast, and you had felt the effects of the delayed shockwave. You were knocked to the ground in an instant, but you didn’t feel pain–not yet at least. When you woke up in the hospital a day later, Leon was asleep in the chair beside you.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he’d said. You vowed not to.

“Do you think they’ll at least have an open bar?” he says now, drawing you back into the world. You turn away from the window of the cab to look at him. He’s staring at his hands, forcing a small smile.

“They better,” you say, reaching over and settling a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you. “It’s the only reason I’m going,”

This turns his smile genuine, and he even offers an eyeroll. You squeeze his shoulder, bracelets jingling with the motion. His eyes are on you, and you feel as hot as fresh sin. You hate this; hate that he makes you feel this way, hate that he is so beautiful, hate that you can’t seem to shake this deep seated love you harbor for him. You miss him when he looks away and you remove your hand.

The gala is overwhelming. Leon stays near you, hand hovering near your own. You wish he would reach out and take it. You debate the consequences of doing it yourself.

Breath hot on the shell of your ear, Leon whispers, “You think our taxes went into this?”

You suppress a laugh, tightening your lips into a thin line to fight a smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’ll pretend like this was all donated,”

“You can consider taxes a donation if you really think about it,” he says, gliding across the floor with you toward an empty table. You snort.

“I think that depends on what your definition of donation is,” you say. He pulls out your chair for you before pushing it in, then takes his own seat beside you. His legs are angled toward you like he only plans on talking to you.

“I think you underestimate my ability to bend definitions to suit my needs,” he says. You laugh again.

You like this version of Leon, and you know that it won’t last very long so you should hold onto it while it’s here. An old jazz song rings out from the speakers across the hall, and the lights catch his eyes just right. They’re really blue, as true blue as blue gets. They’re your favorite shade of blue. If you could paint your living room that color, you would. It’s a soft blue, like the crest of a wave blue, like the sky just after dawn blue, like two perfect oceans set into his skull. There’s a hairline scar that runs between the crows feet of his left eye, one you ache to reach out and trace.

That’s the best way to describe how you feel when you look at Leon: aching. It’s desperation, an aching need to touch and hold. It’s not exactly love, but you don’t have another word for it. Maybe devotion? Looking at him feels like the first time a child sees a kitten. You’re like me, soft and lovable, and we should stay together.

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said in the last few minutes?” Leon asks, putting a hand on your knee that brings you back to the gala. You suck in a breath and shake your head. He smiles wide. “Quit staring at me, makes me feel like I’ve got something on my face,”

“You’re pretty,” you say before you can stop yourself. Maybe pretty is the wrong word, but you don’t know what the right one would be. He’s handsome, sure, but handsome doesn’t encapsulate the way his lashes flutter against his cheekbones or the way he blushes when you smile at him. “Sorry,”

He’s grinning now, giving your knee a squeeze. “You flatter me,”

An hour later, and he’s being called up on stage by your director, who intends to decorate him. You’re beaming with pride, even though you know Leon is dreading this moment. He stumbles across the stage. Cameras are flashing, and you can almost see Leon cringe between photos. He’s off the stage a few minutes later, heading straight for you. You grin more, knowing that he’s choosing to seek solace in you, in your company. He wraps you in a stiff hug that loosens as it endures. You laugh into his shoulder.

“Don’t let me do anything heroic ever again,” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. You bark a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “I’ll make sure to step in next time,”

In an act that surprises you, Leon tugs you toward the dance floor. You must look wildly confused because he explains, “Just this once. Just one dance,”

You agree, not that you could deny even if you wanted to. He’s looking at you like you’re someone he’s meant to love, like you’re more than just his partner. His hand slots against the curve of your waist like it was made specifically to be there. He’s warm and smiling, and you think maybe he’s had a bit too much champagne. But you like him like this. Who knows when you’ll see him like this again? You stare at him, intent to memorize his features and the way the light catches on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re staring again,” he whispers. You smile sheepishly.

“Never seen you like this,” you reply. He bows his head to chuckle. “Not sure I’ll ever get the chance to again,”

“I’m sure you will,” he says. “You’re the one who brings it out of me,”

You roll your eyes. “I’m more convinced it’s all the free champagne we’ve been drinking,”

“You can believe whatever you want, sweetness,” he says, spinning you. “I’m telling you the truth,”

You’re both giggly and joking the whole way home. Leon has you wheezing about something you can’t remember as you step into the apartment. Tears rest at the corners of your eyes. You shove him playfully. He follows you from room to room like a puppy, making you giggle and flash a smile as you clean up for the night.

You crash onto the bed, warm and light from the night, and reach to take off your shoes. Leon stands in the doorway, watching you. The light from the hallway gives him a halo. Your feet ache as you release them from their prisons, and you glance up to see Leon smiling at you. You return it with the cock of one of your brows.

“You’re pretty,” he says by way of explanation. You feel heat snake up your body. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, hair slightly messy from where he’s run his hands through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. If you weren’t as shy as you are, you’d probably move to touch him.

Instead, you huff a laugh and toss your shoes to the floor. “You flatter me,”

When you stand and begin to move around him, he grabs your elbow. “I mean it,”

Perhaps, in another life, you would see this as a win. The man you’ve spent most of your life following around and yearning for seemingly returns your affections, and you are about to deny him. Admitting it out loud makes it real, makes it mean something. What happens the next time something goes wrong out there? The next time he does something heroic? Everything will be much too real, and much harder to bury. You blink at him, looking at him for what feels like the very first and last time. He’s still Leon; scruffy stubble, blue eyes, and warmth. He’s still Leon, teetering on being your Leon, and you’re not going to let that happen. You, again, are going to deny yourself from what you want.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You take in a shaky breath. He’s still holding you, but his touch is a ghost on your flesh.

“Leon, I don’t know-”

“You know that one Frank Sinatra song?” he interrupts. You gape at him.

“Why did you ask if you won’t let me answer?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He returns his hands to his pockets.

“Predicted where it was going, figured I’d circumvent it,” he admits, the corner of his lips turning upward slightly. “The song he sings with his wife?”

You shrug. “Maybe? What’s your point?”

“I love you,” he says. Your body goes cold. “That could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but I feel like you should know that before you make whatever decision you’re about to make,”

Your face breaks out into a grin, and you laugh in spite of yourself. “I’m sure you’ve said stupider,”

Whatever worry was on Leon’s face dissolves, and a real, full smile splits across his lips. He takes your face in his hands. He holds you delicately, like you’d break under the slightest pressure. To be fair, you feel like glass at the moment–if glass could have legs made of rubber.

“This makes it real,” you say. He swallows. “No going back, no forgetting, no pretending. When something happens, it will be real,”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he whispers. “It’s worked out for us so far,”

You’re not sure who closes the space first, but it matters little after it’s happened. His lips are gentle and giving against your own. Your hands splay against his sides, using his suit jacket to pull him closer. His hands wind into your hair. There’s a desperation behind his movements, one you’re all too familiar with. After what feels like hours, he breaks from you, leaning his forehead against yours. His breathing is labored, you can feel it in his strong chest beneath your hands.

“This is real,” he says.

“We take risks for a living,” you say. He opens his eyes to peek at you through his lashes. “What’s one more right?”

He grins and kisses you again.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mild sexy stuff (Just some very light hand business. Very light.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: You moved out of the Tower :(

A/N: This is it! The last part! You guys. I can't even. It's been a magical journey, and I'm so honored that I got to take it with all of you. I'm scheduling this post on Thursday in my office, and I'm fucking crying, because you've made this more than anything I could have ever hoped for. I love each and every one of you, so fucking much. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. Thank you for loving Pocket. Thank you for sticking with Bucky and not throwing knives at him and his stupidity. Just, fucking THANK YOU. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I could not have done this without you. Thirty Chapters, One Hundred Fifty Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fourteen Words, and more to come. Bucky and Pocket's journey is not over! POOKIE LOVES YOU SO MUCH.

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Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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Not even twenty minutes later– it was actually almost pathetic how close your new place was to the Tower, really– you were opening up the door of your brand new penthouse apartment. It was more extravagant than any other place you’d ever laid your head, and when Tony’s realtor had first shown it to you, you’d balked at the opulence of it. But Tony reminded you that you’d been shot, after all, and had almost died once, then actually died, all in the span of a few days, and after that, on top of everything else you had already endured in your life, wasn’t it time you treated yourself to something good? Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford it. So, here you were.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called out softly to the enormous, empty space. It would still be some time before the movers finished loading up and delivering everything from the Tower, and then you were going to have a lot of furniture shopping to do. Toeing off your shoes, you padded your way across the apartment to the terrace. Opening the glass doors, you stepped outside. You walked to the edge and rested your elbows against the railing. Taking a deep breath, you admired the view of the city before you, the Tower just a block away. Looking across, you could easily make out Tony and Pepper’s apartment. Waving at breakfast, indeed.

You felt a pair of strong arms slink around your midsection, tugging you into a broad, warm chest. “Thought I heard you come in,” Bucky said, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder. 

“Hey, baby,” you smiled, reaching back to caress his face with your hand. You turned in his arms so you were facing him. “I missed you.”

 Bucky laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I only left the Tower two hours ago,” he said. “But I missed you, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and affection you felt for him into the motion. “I can’t believe we finally did it,” you grinned.

“Took us long enough,” he mused back, but then turned thoughtful. “Probably would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn’t–”

You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Stop. We agreed not to talk about that, remember? Dr. Whitmore said we can’t move forward if we keep hashing out the past, and I just want to move forward, with you.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but you just smiled and kissed him again.

After you’d been released from the hospital, you and Bucky had had a long, emotional discussion about the future of your relationship. The only way you’d ever stand a real chance, you’d both decided, was if you committed to couples’ counseling and complete and total honesty. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve yet another chance from you, and you probably wouldn’t have given him one if you hadn’t loved him so fucking much. But you’d actually died, and you couldn’t stand the idea of wasting any more time without him. Now, after nearly a year of doing the work, both on your relationship and yourselves, you felt your connection was stronger than ever. And besides, when it really mattered, Bucky had proven, in the most definitive way, that he would pick you over Jade Carthage.

“So…,” you said once the kiss had been broken and you began playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So, what?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at him suggestively. His eyes widened as he caught your meaning. “What? Here? Right now?!”

You tilted your head and looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster, given how completely un-innocent your current thoughts were. “Yeah, right here, right now. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough, baby?” You trailed a hand down the center of his chest and his breath hitched. “Almost a full year, spent using my fingers, pretending they were you, never feeling full enough? Never getting off as good as I got off with you? It’s been so long since I felt you inside of me, Buck. So long, it fucking hurts.”

When you had decided to give your relationship a real reset, one of the rules you had established, with the advice of Dr. Whitmore, was no sex. You needed to establish emotional intimacy and boundaries once again, without the complications a sexual relationship would bring. She had even suggested you both try to date other people, to ensure that this was the relationship you both truly wanted, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to do it. And now, here you were, almost a full year since the last time you’d been together, and you were desperate. 

Bucky groaned at your words and you knew he was this close to giving in to you.

“Come on, baby,” you purred, reaching down and slowly unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be inside of me?” You slowly began nibbling at his jaw, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin and letting it flood your senses.

“Always want you, Pocket,” he growled, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against his hips. You let out a low moan when you felt the evidence of his arousal press into your stomach through his jeans. 

“Then have me, Barnes,” you whispered, carding your hands through his hair. “Have me on this balcony, have me on every fucking surface of this apartment, as many times as you want.”

Any remaining sense of resolve Bucky may have possessed snapped, and he was on you, sucking on the skin of your neck as he rutted his hips against you, and it felt so. fucking. good. to feel him like that again. His hand dipped into the waistband of your pants, where he found you wet and eager for him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled into your skin as his fingers slipped through your slick folds to toy with your clit. “All this for me?”

You groaned as you felt one finger gently breach your entrance. “Only you, love,” you moaned. “Only ever you.”

You both froze when you heard the sound of the elevator ding, and Bucky quickly withdrew his hand, popping his finger into his mouth to suck away the evidence of his actions. Grunting in frustration, you looked around him to see the elevator doors open and the movers begin to unload dollies of boxes from the Tower into your new apartment.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “So much for reunion sex. I swear, I’ve got blue balls, Barnes”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before redoing his belt and heading over to help the movers. “This’ll only take a little while, doll,” he winked at you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together to make up for lost time.”

<- Previous Part / The End

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The reason? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Reader wears a dress, cursing, mentions and eating of food, let me know if more needs to be added.

[Series Masterlist] <- Haven’t seen pt. 1?

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒈𝒖𝒏

Day Two

"You look..fine." You mumble, refusing to say what you really meant: hot.

He nods awkwardly, before tilting his head towards the elevator. You walk with him to the elevator, and you try and study his expressions as you wait to get to the first floor.

He looked lost in thought. Shit. That was never good. If he wasn't talking, whether that meant exchanging insults with you and Sam or marveling at modern technology with Steve, he was lost in his head.

You’d noticed that since he’d moved to the Compound was that he was getting better. Better, in the sense that he wasn't staying holed up in his assigned bedroom pretending that the world didn't exist. Better in the sense that he was talking to people now. Better in the sense that he wasn't waking up violent or screaming in the middle of the night.

Yeah, sure, he's a petty asshole who's extremely good at pissing you off, but even semi-joking insults are better than eerie silence and pure fear of the outside world.

When he'd arrived at the Compound, he'd avoided everyone, even Steve. He didn't speak, barely acknowledged people unless he had to. He didn't eat. He could barely sleep. It was like he was a ghost. The first time Peter came over while Bucky was around, Bucky seemed to have shut down a little.

Peter was a good kid. He stayed over in his room during weekends, or even occasionally during weekdays in the summer. He didn't ask intrusive questions, and he really did try his best to make Bucky feel welcome. But it really just terrified Bucky.

After a few months of court-mandated therapy, which slowly evolved from twice a week to once every two months throughout the span of a year, he seemed to recover. He slowly learned to get out of those post-HYDRA habits he'd picked up. He'd eat with the rest of the team. He'd join in on weekly movie nights. He'd even help Wanda when she cooked for the monthly 'nice-family-dinner' days. She always loved making the food for those.

He started watching baking shows with Vision. He'd hang out with Natasha. He pestered Steve in a way only a best friend ever could. He made jokes. The first time you ever heard the former brainwashed assassin make a joke will be forever ingrained into your mind. It had been some stupid joke about Steve's old costume, and it had shocked everyone in the room. Except for Steve.

He only went silent like this on particularly bad days. Nobody ever said anything, because they knew that would only make it worse, but it was obvious whenever something rough went down. 'Bad days' meant days that followed nightmare-filled nights, or days that involved flashbacks or recovering from flashbacks, or days that were ruined by something triggering him.

"You good, there?" You decide to speak up, just as the elevator door opens.

He nodded quickly, beginning to walk to the truck. He hops into the driver's seat, and you don't fight him on it.

"We're a bit late." You note, glancing at the time. 6:13pm. Technically, it started at 6:00pm and ended at 10:45pm.

"Holy shit." You say aloud, looking through Bucky's window at the beautiful decorations. There were string lights strung from light posts, and hay bales for some reason, and other cute things. There was a little stage set up, with a small band playing vintage songs. There were little stands set up where you could buy food or random 1940's themed shit.

"You ready?" You looked to Bucky, before checking in the mirror to make sure the red lipstick you'd applied hadn't smudged.

He nodded, parking the truck against the sidewalk. He waited for you to walk around the front of the vehicle to join him.

"I'll grab us some dinner. You up for this? We can always go back--"

"I'm fine." He said, and at first you thought that he was getting annoyed at you, before a quick glance to his face assured you that he was just trying to convince himself of this. "I'm fine." He repeated.

The air was warm, and the yellow light of the string lights combined with the street lights made Bucky look..really nice.

"Ooh! That place looks good. C'mon!" You grabbed his hand, pulling him forward.

You pulled him to the food stand, excitedly looking around the little square. People from well into their nineties to kids who couldn't be older than five were all dressed up. You and Bucky blended in incredibly well.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" You asked Bucky, intending to pay.

"Not sure. Might just get a burger and fries."

"That sounds good. I'm not sure what I want yet. Everything looks amazing."

When the family in front of you got their food and left, you quickly made your decision, and Bucky made his. Just as you were about to put your card into the card swipe machine, Bucky beat you to it. When you opened your mouth to argue, Bucky gave you a sharp glare, silently telling you to shut it.

“I was going to—“ You begin, but he cuts you off quickly. “I got it.” He paid quickly for the meal, before leading you off to a table. There were a bunch of circle tables set up in a large rectangle. In the center, people danced in small circles or in sets of twos.

Setting the plastic baskets on the table, Bucky pulled out a chair for you. “What a gentleman.” You tease, and he just rolls his eyes.

The band played covers of old songs, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky recognizes any of them.

Once the both of you wolfed down the delicious food, you looked around. The band was loud, so you had to talk at a slightly louder volume than normal.

There were lots of couples, ranging from elderly couples slowly swaying together, to newlyweds quickly moving and bouncing to the upbeat music.

You noticed Stacy, the long-haired brunette who worked at the Brandon Center. She was in her own baby blue 40’s dress, which paired well with her hair and bright green eyes.

She was standing at a table in front of her Aunt Brenda, and Barbara from the hotel.

Her grandma and her great aunt live up here, you remember. She’d said so at the store.

Barbara and Brenda were also dressed up, smiling and laughing at something Stacy said. Stacy was standing, but Barbara and Brenda were sitting together.

You looked to Bucky who was zoning out. “You okay?” You asked, and he snapped his gaze up to meet yours.

“Fine.” He assured. "Dance with me."

"What?" You look at him, bewildered.

"Dance with me." He repeats, standing up before pulling you out of your chair by your hands.

"Why are you--" You don’t get to finish as he pulls you to the makeshift dance floor, before pulling you close to him.

"Shut up and dance with me."

"Y'know, that's a song." You felt it was important to note this.

"Weird." He states, before he glances past you, his eyes narrowing.

"If looks could kill." You commented, and he focused back on you. "Who're you looking at?"

"The douchebag who's been staring at you for the past eight minutes." When you turned your head to look back, Bucky stepped to the side, forcing you to swing your body to avoid being crashed into.

"You've been watching him?" You thought it was weird that the guy who hated your guts seemingly wanted to keep you safe.

"Shut up." He glared at you, before he continued to sway with you to the rhythm of the song.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance."

"I said that I didn't. Not that I couldn't." He muttered, before spinning you.

You instantly recognized the opening notes of 'It's Been a Long, Long Time', and you look to Bucky, who also seemed to recognize it.

You laugh as the two of you continue to sway to the music together, before the song ends. Bucky keeps his hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. You’re not that bad.” You grin goofily.

“You’re not so bad either.” Bucky looked at you, a small grin on his face.

“Friends?”

“Something like that. You’re a punk.”

“And you’re a dick.” You shot back.

It was impossible to miss how all of the couples close to you glance at Bucky's hand, clearly metal against your red dress.

"They're all staring at me like I'm some kind of monster." He mutters darkly, beginning to pull away.

You pull him closer. "Who gives a shit.”

“I do. Tony does. The Avenger’s PR team does.” He retorted.

“Okay, smart ass.” You rolled your eyes, before glancing around. One old guy was staring at Bucky, as were the surrounding groups of people. “We can go, if you want. My feet kinda hurt.” You lied, hoping that if you gave a reason to go, he’d feel better about agreeing. When he gave you a simple nod, you smiled. You lead him to the truck, taking him by the hand. Once you reached it, you stepped down off the curb, opening the passenger door.

“That was..fun. For you, right? Like, you’re doing okay?” You asked after a few minutes. Everybody in the tower knew about Bucky’s nightmares and night terrors. Whether it was from hearing him scream late in the night or in the earliest hours of the morning, or if it was from being the one to wake him up from them a few times. It was just something that nobody talked about.

“It was alright.” He murmured. This was a win.

As he drove the two of you back to the hotel, you smiled to yourself.

Shorter chapter this time. Not feeling so great post-elections. Also, my taglist won’t link unless I format it like this. For the good of all, subscribe to/follow the HtH Masterlist post and I’ll reblog with a link to the newest chapter each time. (Hopefully you’ll get a notification?)

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graphics by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

[flawdchaos]

Pinky Promises

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1840

- this is a part 2/continuation of Spilled Drinks that was requested by anon.

Ever since the night Y/N had literally ran into Rosie at the bar she couldn’t seem to rid herself of a small smile, no matter what she did. When the girls made it back to their barracks that night, the ambushing of questions went on for well over an hour and even into the next morning.

“You have to talk to him again, Y/N. We both saw the way he looked at you when you were dancing.” Violet declared as she pinned her hair back under the white cap the Red Cross was gracious enough to bless them with. “You know Violet is right, Y/N. He’s already dreaming of a house back in the states and curly headed babies running around.”

“Hazel!” Y/N stopped midway through her dress buttons to lightly smack her friend on the arm, cheeks burning bright red. “I just met the man and for all we know, he doesn’t care and will never speak to me again.” Reaching down to grab her work satchel packed full of supplies.

“Well Y/N if that was the case I don’t believe Mr. Rosenthal would be waiting outside for you, would he?” Violet taunted, Y/N’s head snapping up to meet her friend's gaze. Violet stood peering out the window, fingers holding the blinds open enough to see outside. Hurriedly, Y/N rushed over the window trying her best to not trip over her own feet.

Sure enough there stood Robert Rosenthal - hands shoved in his pockets gaze searching the area around him.

“Go get him, tiger!” Hazel bent forward, laughing.

There truly was not much left in this world that could phase Y/N. She had seen it all in the cruel reality that was war. Men she had grown close to over the span of their visits to the nurses stations would come back battered and broken, some beyond repair - and despite all of what she saw, she was always able to ground herself. She had to. But now, she felt like a young school girl again. Her body was littered with anxiety - sweaty palms, shaking hands, and a racing heart. Why?

All because Robert Rosenthal was standing outside of the nursing barracks.

The squeaking of the barrack front door brought her back down to reality for a moment before the brightness of the sun had her quickly shielding her eyes.

“Rosie, is that you?” she more than obviously knew the answer but she still could not convince herself that it really was him.

“Uh, yeah”, he let out an awkward chuckle “I wanted to stop by this morning and see how things were going. Maybe walk you to the nurses station since I’m heading in that direction.” he was rambling. She stood, head cocked up to him, eyes squinting still from the sun. “I mean, unless, that makes you uh - uncomfortable.”

“I’d love the company. The commute can get a bit lonely.” that same small smile making its way back onto her face. Rosie extended his hand for Y/N to lead the way and with one quick glance back inside she saw her friends staring out at her, smiles plastered on each of their faces.

“What is on your itinerary, today?” Robert finally spoke up.

“The usual. Work until roughly 1900, probably later since there is a mission today and hope to make it back to the barracks in time to do some reading before I get up and do it all again tomorrow.” Y/N paused, kicking a few pebbles along the path before she continued. “How is the day looking for you?”

“Nothing too crazy but I am going up today.” he said nonchalantly, stopping Y/N in her place.

“You’re flying today?” she almost felt like throwing up. Maybe it was selfishness or chosen ignorance but Y/N had grown to hope the war wouldn’t need Robert anymore. She hoped she could protect him from it but all she could do was treat the wounds he would inevitably bring back to her.

“Yeah, debriefing starts at 0730. I’m heading over there once we get you where you need to be.” Her anxiety ridden mind could not help but imagine this was Rosie’s goodbye to her.

Y/N stepped forward to Rosie, grabbing his hands in hers as she looked up to maintain eye contact.

“I know I am just a nurse and you can’t tell me what you're doing up there or where you’re going but you have to pinky promise me you’ll be safe.” Dropping his left hand, she stuck her pinky out expectantly.

“Cross my heart.” he said, as their pinkies connected tightly.

As they continued along their walk, conversation came easily. The pair were still strangers by most accounts and each of them hated it. Y/N wanted to know everything there was to know about Robert Rosenthal and she had made it her plan to figure it out. Stopping outside the nurses station, Rosie removed his hat and began anxiously squeezing it in his hands.

“Be safe up there, fly boy.” Y/N teased, attempting to keep the mood as lightened as she could.

“As long as you do the same down here.” Y/N nodded.

“This mission will be my 20th. I’ve got a two day pass calling my name once my feet hit the ground. Let me treat you to a real introduction and dinner.” Rosie spoke quickly, nerves taking over the brunette.

“I would love that, Mr. Rosenthal.” rising on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss against his cheek. “You know where I'll be when you get back.” With that, Y/N took a step back and hurried inside to her awaiting duties.

There wasn’t any other time that Y/N had remembered the clock dragging by so slowly. The seconds ticking by was beginning to drive her up the wall and she had to busy herself with random duties. It was while she was restocking the gauze that she heard the all too familiar rumble of the engines overhead. She couldn’t make it to the window to count the returning planes but she hoped, with all her being, every single one of them returned. Hazel’s blonde curls popped around the closet corner, an all too familiar sign that the once quiet med bay was about to pure, unadulterated chaos.

“We’ve got boys already headed our way.” Hazel spoke softly, as if she tried to lessen the blow.

“How bad?” Y/N asked but was only met with a small head shake from the blonde - it was never a good sign.

When Y/N finally saw Robert Rosenthal, he appeared in the med bay doors adorning some cuts and scrapes across his face.

“I told you I would make it back, pretty lady. My leave starts at 0700 sharp. Let’s go to London.”

It was pure luck that her days off coincided with Rosie’s rendezvous and that Helen and Violet were great at covering for their friend. The train ride was where Y/N finally got to the bottom of who Robert Rosenthal truly was. Shortly after taking their seats, Y/N couldn’t help but start to prod.

“Alright, tell me everything Mr. Rosenthal. Give me all the dirty details.”, her cheeks flushed bright red ,”uh- not like that i mean tell me - uh - tell me something no one else knows about you or something.” She could have thrown herself off of the moving train at that point but Rosie just flashed her a smile and started speaking.

“Robert Rosenthal, from Brooklyn, New York. I was working in law before all this mess. I loved it. Graduated top of my class actually. But after Pearl Harbor, I couldn’t keep sitting on my ass while my country needed me so - I enlisted.”

“No secret wife or kids back at home?” Y/N poked.

“No ma’am. It’s just me. And - uh - as far as something no one on this side of the world knows about me - I was the captain for my college’s baseball team. I was trying to be the next DiMaggio.” a small chuckle escaping him as he finished his sentence. “Now what about you?” he asked, softly bumping his shoulder up against the girls.

“Nothing too crazy for me. I always loved helping folks, I was told my whole life I was meant to be a nurse. Once we started fighting this fight I knew I had to volunteer - sorta like you I guess. I’m not dropping bombs or toting a gun but knowing I patch you all up before you get back in the saddle is enough for me.” she sighed, turning up to glance at Rosie.

“And no secret husband out at war or kids back at home?” Rosie mimicked her early question. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “God no, Robert. Where I’m from I don’t turn heads.” He took a moment to look at her, maintaining eye contact before he took his large hand and grasped over hers before pulling them on to his lap.

“Well Y/N Y/L/N you turned mine - and maybe after we get all this nonsense settled with the bad guys, I can give you a tour of Brooklyn. I know just the place that I’d love to take you dancing.”

“I’m most certainly holding you to it but for now, let’s explore London.” raising her free hand to the platform approaching quickly.

“Yes ma’am. How would you feel about a picnic?”

“That sounds absolutely lovely.”

Rosie stood up as soon as the train hissed to a stop, busying himself with gathering the overnight bags each of them had packed. He stubbornly insisted on carrying both to the hotel around the corner. Y/N knew they would have to enter as colleagues and nothing more, separating as they went to their respective rooms to drop off their bags before meeting again in the hallway.

“Let’s go find sandwiches.” he spoke quietly and Y/N nodded, falling in line behind him as they walked past the lobby and out to the streets. For the first time Y/N really took in the size of the city around her and she couldn’t even help that her jaw was almost to the floor. The Germans had done their share of damage but it didn’t lessen the experience for her at all.

“What is it, Y/N?” Rosie questioned, taking a step towards her.

“I’ve never seen a city like this before. This is just - wow.” Rosie broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. “It is awesome but wait until I take you to Brooklyn. We’ll catch the train to New York City and I’ll make sure you take the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“You promise?” Y/N broke from her trance to look up as Rosie smiled and turned to her fully, sticking out her left hand.

“I pinky promise.” he said, watching as Y/N connected their hands tightly. “You better believe it. I haven’t broken a promise yet.”

AUTHORS NOTE - hi friends, i hope everyone enjoyed this little part two to spilled drinks. there may be a part 3 to this little series if it’s wanted. please feel free to give me feedback or more requests as my inbox as open. i’m still new to this so i appreciate anything :)

[chernabogs]

“kiss  me.  take  me  from  this  place.  ’” for the writing prompt with Lilia and reader 👀👀

I went a bit of a different approach with this where the prompt isn't written in, but is instead what this whole fic builds off of. I couldn't find an appropriate place to put the words based on the content, so I hope this is ok <3

HOOKED

Inc: Lilia, Baul mention, Reader (spoken second person here). Warnings: Heavy discussion of PTSD including a detailed PTSD-attack. Read at your discretion. WC: 2.5k Summary: Many of those who came from the era of Briar Nation before Briar Valley believe the silent suppression approach is both more mindful and correct in terms of etiquette. Lilia is not exempt from this, even when he knows it's a ridiculous belief.

There is a stigma against seeking help that Lilia would argue is the most ridiculous belief to have been ingrained in the older generation. Rather than communicating one’s thoughts and emotions to others, many of those who came from the era of Briar Nation before Briar Valley believe the silent suppression approach is both more mindful and correct in terms of etiquette.

Of course, he’s not exempt to this.

The difference between himself and the rest of his generation is that he’s the largest hypocrite to exist among them. He encourages his children and those nurtured by his hand to speak their thoughts and to be aware of how they feel in the moment. Meanwhile, he’s shoving every stressor he’s experienced into the nooks and crannies of his mind, where they sit and stare at him expectantly as he tries diligently not to look back.

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

He wasn’t quite aware of the term ‘post-traumatic’ until he heard it spoken of on one of his trips abroad forty years back. By fate, be it cruel or kind, there was a conference occurring in the hotel he was staying at that he took upon himself to quickly visit. Uninvited and for free, of course, but that’s beside the point. At the time glamour still wasn’t as illegal as it is now, and so it didn’t take much concentration for him to conceal the pointed ears and sharp teeth he has to blend in with the crowd of well-dressed folks with degrees too long to remember. That day he played a clinical psychologist, a physician, a biologist, and someone in forensics all in the span of a few hours. It was an exercise in acting he quite enjoyed.

Back to the main focus, though: Post-traumatic, or PTSD, as it would come to be called.

It was new, it was fresh, and it made the pinpricks of discomfort crawl across his skin the more he listened to the psychologist whose name he didn’t recall describe it. Glasses—the man had large, coke-bottle glasses on his face, which kept glinting under the fluorescent glow of the lights while he spoke about the consequences of war on the mind. His hands would wave in the air with each sentence and his glasses kept glinting as the pinpricks grew to daggers until finally Lilia just got up and left the room. He went to the hotel bar, got smashed for the first time in god knows how long, and spent the rest of the night staring at the colourful glasses on the shelves until he was finally asked to leave.

Glasses had described it as presenting in several ways. Recurring dreams (he dreamt of it at least once a week, a dragon’s shriek, and then the sudden nothingness), avoidance of external reminders (he didn’t immediately go back to Wild Rose even when it became accessible), persistent negative beliefs about oneself (no comment), self-destructive behaviour (no comment), sleep disturbances (no comment). If he and Glasses had engaged in a one-on-one conversation for all of a minute he wagers the man would’ve tried to recruit him to be studied.

Glasses did miss the mark on a few things, though. Granted he was basing his work off of a human’s experience in war, not that of a fae like Lilia. Glasses had said that PTSD could make someone feel as though they were trapped in a prison that was their own mind—but prison felt like a very child-friendly way to describe it. To Lilia, it felt more like a fish on a hook. It pierces into his body and pulls at the flesh, ripping into his muscle and making sure it’s the only thing he can think of coherently. Sometimes he’s so numb that he hardly notices it’s there, until something triggers it, makes the string the hook is on yank upwards, and then he isn’t able to do anything because all he’s stuck on is that fucking hook.

Sometimes in the late evening when he finds himself sitting with Baul on the man’s porch there will be a sound—a twig snapping, a tree falling—that will make both of them tense and look around. Their eyes will meet, an unspoken look of understanding will be shared, and then it’s back into the next topic of conversation. Maybe if he told someone he was caught, if either of them told someone, they’d be able to wiggle that hook free. But that’s not mindful or correct in terms of etiquette, isn’t it?

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

_________________________________________

It’s because the sky is blue.

It’s the simplest, most common thing in the entire world that never changes no matter what occurs. The sea changes colour, the leaves change colour, the earth changes colour, but the sky somehow consistently stays blue.

He’s been having a bad week, and he knows you can tell because he hasn’t been poking fun at you as often. He hasn’t felt like gaming, he hasn’t felt like socializing as much, and he’s been going for walks more than usual. His boys can tell as well—the close scrutiny Silver has had him under is almost endearing—but they also know better than to react too much.

You don’t. He likes you mainly because you know barely anything about him. You’re not as aware as his boys may be. You don’t know the Right General: the man who destroyed armies and fucked up on the biggest task he was given (in his mind, at least). You know Lilia: the vice Housewarden of Diasomnia who hangs upside down in hallways and plays screamo on a guitar.

He's also developed a bit of a soft spot for you.

Well. Perhaps more than a bit, but that’s semantics.

This is also why he doesn’t say no when you invite him to go into town with you for a few errands. It’s a simple task that he’s done with you many times before, but today it feels like a huge commitment he isn’t sure he should have done. This is because he can feel it tugging in his head—the gentle pull of a thread that’s done before whatever is on the hook is yanked up to the surface. He’s trying hard to ignore it, trying hard to focus on your voice as his hand taps his thigh and he keeps looking around the woodland path.

“—and so, Ace is paying for it, because he was the one that went and dumped the grape juice on it in the first place.” You look down at the red-stained garb in your arms as you frown. His gaze goes to it only for a moment before he hums and looks away again.

“How much of a fight was it to get him to agree to that?” He asks, pushing to keep the conversation going and to keep you talking so that he has something to focus his attention on. The trees around you feel both familiar and foreign in this moment. “If I recall correctly, our dear Ace is as good at negotiating as Azul when it comes to his own money.”

You give a laugh at that which allows a brief blanket of warmth to drape itself on his shoulders. “Combined with Deuce, we managed to get him to agree quickly enough. I don’t think dry cleaning costs that much though, so it isn’t like this is going to break his bank.”

“Ah, you would be surprised.” A smile touches on his lips which still doesn’t quite reach his eyes as you both continue walking. You direct the conversation to other matters going on around the school and he falls into an attentive silence, letting you talk away so he can focus on your voice.

It’s when you step out of the forest and into a meadow clearing, when his eyes inadvertently go upwards to look at the blue sky, that the world shuts off. The sky had been like this—clear and blue—right before it had all gone to shit. Sunny, slightly cooler, with the sounds of a thousand bodies moving and the heady scent of grease in the air. He can see the glinting of light (glinting like Glasses had been), he can feel the tension grow in his body, taste saliva and copper in his mouth. In a manner of a few seconds, he’s sucked up out of the forest around NRC and into a sub-level of his own personal hell where he’s now sitting and watching all of his mistakes play back.

He's fighting against that hook. He’s squirming, wiggling, and biting as it pulls him all around. The world is black. He’s sitting on a silver chair and there’s a television in front of him and it’s playing that day at Wild Rose as the sky becomes a thunderous grey. He wants to scream and change the channel, but the hook has pierced the back of his head and is jutting out of his mouth. He can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch as the same shit happens again and again and—

“—Lilia?”

His head turns as much as the hook allows. He can taste the rust from it as it stays in his mouth, but his eyes go wide when he sees you in the corner. The hum of television static and his quick breathing are all the sounds he can hear as you stand there in those shadows. Something garbled leaves his lips. You move a few steps closer, close enough that the light of the television reflects on your features, which wear a mask of your own fear as you kneel by his side.

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t there, not when it was all unfolding, so you shouldn’t be in the same basement of horrors he’s currently in.

Your hand rests on his arm. It’s as though a thousand needles erupt where your skin touches and he recoils in that chair, jerks to the side, and causes that hook to split more skin. You move back quickly, and he can see what he thinks might be panic on your face.

“What can I do?” You ask. It’s such a simple question and he wishes so deeply to tell you an answer but what can you do? What can he do? It isn’t mindful or correct in terms of etiquette, right? He shakes his head. Panic turns to a touch of worry, of frustration, as you move to sit cross-legged beside his chair.

“I... don’t know what’s going on.” You say slowly. He listens as he forces his breathing to regulate. The dim hum of static is still coming from the right side of him as he keeps looking down at you. “But I’m going to sit right here, okay? I’m going to sit right here until you can tell me what I can do to help. And if there’s nothing I can do, then at least I can keep you company until you’re ready.”

Ready? Company?

He keeps looking down at you until he finally turns his head back to the television where those scenes are still playing. Beyond the television, he can see the outline of trees forming in the dark room.

The two of you sit there for what feels like an extraordinarily long time. The hook has stopped tugging, and the trees are becoming more visible in the darkness as the show comes to an end. He can hear birds chirping past the static, he can smell woodland instead of grease. He isn’t tasting rust anymore. A small, strangled hum leaves him, which catches your attention.

“Yeah?” You ask, scooting forward on the floor beside him to look up at his face. You’re so goddamn endearing when you look up like that, and he hates that you’re in this room with him right now. He needs to leave because he needs to get you out of here as well. You barely know anything about him, and he isn’t ready to ruin the perceptions you have quite yet.

“Can I touch you?” You ask.

“Yes,” is what he manages to choke back beyond the hook.

You stand back up and your hand comes to rest on his cheek. He doesn’t feel daggers like he did before, but he does still tense, which makes you stop again. A heartbeat passes before you lean down so your lips are by his ear.

“Breathe,” you whisper, and he does.

“Focus,” you whisper, and he does.

“Come back,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple, and he does.

The television shuts off and is pulled back into the shadows by something he can’t quite see yet, but he feels he will come to meet very soon. The chair he sits on vanishes and is replaced by a rock with a bubbling creek at his feet. The hook unlatches itself and is reeled back up for another day. It’s like he’s waking up from a dream as a groggy feeling settles over him.  

Neither of you speak for a long moment as he continues to sit on the rock and your hand moves to rest on his back. A sense of embarrassment forms in his chest that he knows shouldn’t be there, but it exists anyway. Embarrassment, shame, and heavy, heavy exhaustion. His tongue licks his dry lips as he clears his throat to speak.

“How long?” He asks.

“It’s been an hour.”

An hour. That feels shorter than usual as he rolls his shoulders and gets to his feet. His hands are trembling slightly, and he appreciates you not mentioning it despite the way your gaze lingers on them.

He turns to you as he shoves them in his pockets, and he forces his lips into a smile. It’s a good thing he’s an expert at fake smiles to the point that he does this without a thought. “Do you mind if I...?”

“Not at all.” You reply quickly, grabbing your stained clothing from the ground. When you rise, you look worried. For a moment he fears that you may ask what just happened right now—but you don’t. You just offer him a slight smile back and hold your clothes a bit tighter. “Will you text me when you get back?”

“Yes,” he replies automatically, feeling a bud of relief blossom in his chest when you nod and step back onto the path. This is immediately replaced by guilt. “Thank you.”

The words feel dead and heavy on his tongue, despite the way they seem to soothe your own anxiety.

“Always.” You murmur in response as he watches your gaze linger on him a moment longer. He so wishes to ask you to stay, to explain to you what this all was, but he stills the words in his throat.

He likes you mainly because you know barely anything about him. You’re unaware of his past, much like his boys, and your perception of him is one he’s carefully gifted to you himself. The abruptness of this attack may have broken a crack in the pristine image which unsettles him.

He isn’t ready to discuss it yet. Not with you, not with his boys, not even Baul. He’s the largest hypocrite to exist for a good reason.

He continues to watch you until you vanish back into the forest, and it’s only with your departure that he finds himself able to breathe properly. The back of his skull aches and all he wants right now is to go to sleep for a few hours. His smile drops to a grimace as he turns and begins to go in the direction opposite of you.

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

[yumeka-sxf]

I would have included this scan with my recent miscellaneous collab scans post, but I decided it deserves its own post, not just because it's one of the loveliest official Twiyor illustrations I've seen, but also because the story of how I got it is...interesting 😅

This image is from the chara fine graph (which is basically a framed picture) that was included as a preorder bonus for buying the complete season 2 blu-ray set from a shop called Rakuten Books (together with badge pins of the same designs). I briefly mentioned it back in October of last year when season 2 was airing, along with preoder bonuses from other shops like Animate and Amazon. I only wanted to get this one though, so as per my usual process of trying to secure rare SxF goods, I made a note to myself to keep an eye out for when it released. Rakuten, which I believe is the main company for Rakuten Books, has their own proxy buying service, and as the season 2 blu-rays were released, I saw them appearing there. But as noted on their main site, the condition for them to send you the chara fine graph is that you must preorder all of the three season 2 blu-ray discs from them. Once you buy the third one, if they know that you've already bought the others, then they'll send you the preorder bonuses along with it.

I was concerned that if I bought the discs via proxy, they wouldn't know that I bought all three and would cancel my order at the end! I would be devastated if that happened after waiting months and spending all that money on the complete set. I knew people would sell the chara fine graph second-hand as soon as it released, so I decided to wait until then and try to find it on Mercari.

So the months went by and eventually I found out that the final blu-ray volume of season 2 would release on April 17th, 2024. I made a mental note to check Mercari for it then, but unfortunately something else released around that same time...CODE: White in the US, which had its first screening on April 18th. Admittingly, I got distracted by the CODE: White release and had seen it twice by the following weekend. I did do some preliminary searching for the chara fine graph, but not with my usual refined search terms. It wasn't until the 21st that I finally sat down and really started searching for it. And while I did find a few listings, they had already been sold.

I was hopeful that more people would sell it, since it had only been less than a week since release. But I guess I underestimated how popular this chara fine graph was because, after the initial five listings I saw that were sold within the span of a few days, none appeared after. I had, like, ten Mercari tabs open on my browser with different search terms that I refreshed many times a day, but nothing was showing up. I would groan whenever I'd see the preorder bonuses for the other shops like Animate and Amazon pop up, but not Rakuten Books. I did finally see one new listing of someone selling just the badge pins, but that was sold within a few minutes, which made me even more nervous. I would also be nervous getting up in the morning since I didn't want to see that a new listing was posted and sold while I was sleeping! Thankfully I work from home so it wasn't too much of an inconvenience for me to refresh the Mercari tabs on my personal computer whenever I had a minute. But as the days went by and I didn't see any new listings, I started getting mad at myself that if I had only started seriously searching for it right on release day, I would have had at least five chances to get it and could have saved myself this hassle. I even sent a message to Rakuten Books via their online form, asking (in Japanese) if they could somehow sell it to me and ship internationally, etc. But their response was pretty much what I expected...a polite "no."

But then, on the evening of May 4th, I found a new listing and immediately bought it! What should have been a red flag though is that the person was selling it for $30 (with the badge pins included), while everyone else had been selling it from around $80-$100. The title they gave to the item was weird too; they simply called it "Spy Family" instead of "Spy Family Chara Fine Graph" or "Spy Family Rakuten Books Bonus" or something descriptive like that. But the seller had a decent rating so I didn't think there was a problem. After I got the email from Buyee (my proxy service) that they successfully bought the item, I thought I was all set. I closed out all my search tabs and went to bed feeling satisfied.

However, when I got up the next morning, my heart sank when I saw that about an hour after I had gone to bed, Buyee sent me another email saying that they refunded and cancelled my order! The reason they gave was "due to the convenience of the seller" 😫

But what was most frustrating about this is that, when I checked the searches again, I saw that the same seller had relisted the item, with a higher price and more descriptive title, and it had been sold already. What probably happened is that the seller realized they made a mistake with the title and price of the listing and wanted to change it, which Mercari apparently allows them to do even after it had already been sold and paid for!

I was furious with Mercari for allowing this. The least they could do in a situation like this is give the original buyer, like, one day to buy the item again with the increased price before the seller is allowed to relist it again. I wanted to write to the seller and/or Mercari, but I wasn't able to make a Mercari account since it's restricted to Japan. I was also internally yelling at myself that if I had just started searching for it within a day or two of release instead of procrastinating, I could have avoided all this. So it was back to square one, but I wasn't going to give up! I opened up more search tabs with even more refined search terms. I also expanded to other proxy-supported shops like Surugaya and Yahoo Japan Auction. I even got my mom to help me, since she's often up in the middle of the night and can check in case anything is listed during that time while I'm asleep. I downloaded the Buyee app too so I could check listings even if I was away from my computer. With all this, I was hopeful I'd be able to buy it again, though it was more of a question of "when" than "if." With second-hand collectibles, you never know when they could pop up...I could find a new listing the next day, or not for a year or two. But I just kept up the searching, and finally, after another month went by, on June 3rd (June 4th in Japan, so technically Twiyor day 😁) I finally found it again...on Yahoo Japan Auction of all places!

I had never bought via auction before so I was a bit nervous I'd get outbid or something. But I immediately clicked the "pay buyout price option" (which was only a few dollars more than the original price) and, thankfully, a short while later Buyee informed me that I successfully won the auction! But after what happened before, I was still paranoid that it could get canceled for whatever reason. But that didn't happen, and after waiting for shipping, it finally came~

I always like to add a "lessons learned" in these situations, so I'd say the lesson here is don't be blasé or procrastinate when it comes to something you really want. And of course, being persistent pays off more than not!

[aritamargarita]

SOLITUDE || 001

hello and welcome to the debut of solitude. to all my current readers, you already know what’s up, but to new and curious readers, this installment is based off of climbing the food chain of wwe, taking place in mostly the modern era, so there are superstars spanning from 2013 the earliest to 2022..

just let me cook on the timeline a little bit okay, you'll like it LOL. there’s a lot of Twitter segments in this so i hope it’s not annoying, they’re going to die down for the most part later i promise

without further ado, please enjoy!

TODAY IS THE first day of your call up. The support you’ve gotten from your friends from the training center was wonderful, but you’re still feeling antsy and incredibly nervous. Hopefully, your first day on the brand goes well..

Shawn Michaels was the one to break the news that you were getting called up. You could remember it so clearly because you completely ambushed him with an excited hug once he dropped the bomb on you.

He had patted your back and told you to lighten your grip a little bit, but not without a grin on his face.

If it’s one thing you deserve, it is the chance to expand your career. You always came early, and you were always prepared to learn.

You weren’t sure how to feel when he told you that you’d be heading to the main roster.

You only started as a superstar on the indie circuit and are only used to being on much smaller channels and local shows. You couldn’t even imagine being on WWE, which was broadcast on national television!

He had seen the look on your face and quickly tried to do damage control.

“We’re soft-launching you, or however you kids say it these days,” He told you. You think he grumbled something about how social media was confusing, but you brushed him off. “As an interviewer, I mean.”

“Huh..” You give a shrug. “As long as I can wrestle sometime.”

He had assured you that you will, sooner than you think, but they just wanted to focus on your speaking. Once they (and you), were more confident, they’d allow you to be in much more opportunities.

Such is life, you guess. Get through these obstacles for a bigger reward. You gave your gratitude to Shawn as you had a lot to look forward to.

If you’re not mistaken, WWE had already posted a teaser on their twitter. For some reason, you would find yourself constantly checking the tweet.

@WWE ✓

We hear someone is entering the scene… 👀

1.2K reposts 120 quotes 14K likes

—is what it said. The flurry of tweets under it were mixed. Lots of people wanted to know what the deal was, though some were already speculating it was an old star coming back.

However, the few fans that knew of your work had their guesses. Some of the pictures you posted on Instagram were cryptic hints, but you knew how the internet was. Crazy detective work..

But anyhow, people around the training center know that you’re pretty introverted. You only came to get some work done and go home. It was hard for others to get to know you at first.

They like to call you shy, but you’ve started to hate that word the more it’s used. It holds you back too much. You won’t make it far if you’re stuck with that description for your entire life.

Fortunately, they know what you lack in words is made up for in the ring. There’s no question that you’re good, you just tend to get nervous when speaking to the public.

At heart, you knew they wanted to help you out, and they wanted you to become the best you can be! If you start practicing, you’re sure to be a star!

As motivating as it sounds, it’s still stressful. Going out of your comfort zone was nothing new. It’s a given if you want to wrestle properly, but it still makes you uneasy.

You know you’ve gotta put your best foot forward and do this despite it. This was your only chance, and you absolutely can’t mess this up.

Most of the people still training had given you their well wishes. It’s heavily appreciated; after all, you won’t see them anymore unless they’re called up there themselves.

You think you’ll miss Carmella the most. She was your training buddy, and you think she was the most excited about you getting called up. You hope that she’ll be next soon enough….

As of right now, you look tired. You damn sure feel tired.

It causes you to lie down on the floor of the locker room. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but fuck it. You’ve already made a bad decision by staying up all night out of excitement. It’s starting to come back to you.

Of course, you came to the arena a little too early. (which was an inside joke between coaches, you’re too punctual for your own good..)

You were sure most of your coworkers hadn’t arrived yet, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to see them. It’s not that you don’t want to, you’re just nervous to meet them.

Especially since you’ll probably be half asleep and may forget their names.

Much to your misfortune, a woman comes in, sunglasses on and suitcase handle clenched in hand.

She only lowers them with a finger once you’re in view. “Oooh,” She starts, then clicks her tongue. It’s apparent that she’s mocking you already. “..You look like trash.”

“Thanks,” You say with a sigh. “It’s so appreciated.”

This is not a good start. You make the move to get up off the comfortable ground and the woman puts a hand on her hip.

She’s not very amused, moving a free hand to flip her blue hair. “Did they get me a personal makeup artist? Or…are you just everyone’s stylist? Never seen you here before.”

“I’m new. An interviewer.” You say. Giving yourself that title feels much weirder than saying you were a wrestler. “Pray tell, who am I talking to?”

She’s a little taken aback by the cynical tone in your voice but takes her sunglasses off. This woman doesn’t think she’s met her match yet.

“Of course you don’t recognize a celebrity when you’re in front of one. Let me refresh your memory a bit. How does this sound? The boss, the blueprint, the standard!” She pauses for a bit for dramatic effect. “…Sasha Banks. And I better not have to repeat myself. Who exactly are you?”

“You have a pretty name.” You start off with. Honestly, you didn’t want to make an enemy out of her as much as she wanted to make one out of you. You hope she could see that. “I’m [Name], and you’re right. I am new. Maybe we can get to know each other a bit more.”

It actually seems to work because she falters for a second. “…What?”

You hold out your hand to her and she looks at it for a moment before shaking it with a scowl. Before you realize it, she’s already taking her hand back.

“I’m assuming you’re wrestling? Do you have a match?” You quickly ask, not giving her a second to recover. “I’d like to interview you after if you do.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sasha drops her suitcase. She’s unsure if she could stand your bright personality for a second longer. You’re going to be a problem in the future. “Sorry, not sorry, but you’re a nobody. What’s the point?”

“It was worth a try. But if that’s what you want I won’t force you.” Sasha rolls her eyes at your response. You’re way too nice. “At least tell me, do you think it’s fun here?”

“Fun?” She repeats. “Tch, I know you didn’t just ask if it was fun. Get real. There’s nothing fun about being here. There’s only one thing that matters, and it’s the Divas Championship. Got it?”

“Got it.” You nod. Divas Championship…duly noted. You don’t think you’ll be going for it anytime soon. “Who’s got it?” You’ll have to ask if the standard Women’s Championship was still in circulation as well.

“AJ Lee.” She answers. It’s the least snarky answer she’s given you so far, but she reverts back to it. “I swear, I’m gonna drag her ass across the mat for that title. She makes me sick with her skipping around.”

You voice your thoughts. “She skips?” That’s one way to get to the ring. You’re curious now. “I wonder if I can interview her…she must have a lot to say about her reign so far.”

“What?” Sasha’s immediately offended. “Um, no. Who says you’re interviewing her first? You’re obviously going to interview me first.”

It’s contradictory to what she’s said before, but because of it, there’s a smile growing on your face. She notices and jabs her index finger toward you. “You can wipe that smile off your face, rookie.”

“So be it. I will see you afterwards.” You agree to interview her, doing your best to fight the smile off.

Sasha huffs and leaves the room for now. Your eyes follow her, and once she’s gone, you shrug to yourself. Wow.

Well, that’s one way to get an interviewee.

Almost seconds after her departure, your phone vibrates and you see it’s a notification from Twitter. After that, the tweets start to flow in.

What now?

@SashaBanksWWE ✓

I ALWAYS come first. Don’t forget that, rookie. @Officially[Name].

4.1K reposts 250 quotes 45K likes

@No1DivazStan: Wait…?

↳ @Sashabanksfan109: Literally like who is that??? What is she talking about?

Oh boy. Now people actually are getting the idea. She even went as far as tagging you. You’re already starting to have people follow you.

Including Sasha, which was a plus!

You’re confident about things for a moment until the thought of having to talk to her live circles back. Shit, you might start to freak out a little.

You hope Sasha wouldn’t be too harsh on you, even if it were wishful thinking. Sasha’s gonna come in hot, especially if she loses. You have no choice but to adjust.

A few more moments of silence pass, and suddenly the floor is calling you again.

You immediately lay back down. How long until the show? You take your phone out of your pocket and check the time. 6:45. The show starts at around 7. Maybe 8 if there are any delays.

Would it be wrong if you took a quick nap? It’ll only be 15 minutes, but it might just be enough to keep you going for the rest of the night.

You’re already closing your eyes. You know you’re going to be unable to hit any major stages of sleep, but even just laying like this is nice.

Until the door opens. You’re shooting up from your spot, almost falling over in the process.

“I WASN’T SLEEPING.” You clarify, doing your best to stand up. The woman, who’s not Sasha this time, looks at you in confusion.

She points a finger at you. “Ya’ sure about that? From the looks of it, it seemed like you were knocked out for a second.” Her accent is the first thing that catches your attention as she starts to motion towards you.

“No, no, not at all.” You try to defend. “Can’t a woman stretch on the floor in peace?”

“Seriously, you call that stretching?” Before she can make any more sarcastic comments toward you, she turns to look at you. “I’ve never seen you around before. Got a name?”

She is trying her best to identify you to no avail. You hop up to your feet, then hold your hand out to her. “[Name]. I’m just an interviewer right now, yeah. I’m new. Who are you?”

“Becky. Becky Lynch.” She introduces, taking your hand to shake it firmly. You swear you’ve seen her before, too. Probably on Twitter. Guess Becky isn't the only one with deja vu.

You pray you wouldn’t forget her or Sasha’s name for that matter. You can’t fight the urge to yawn.

“Someone’s tired. You should go get some water before you pass out. Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

This is a nice change of pace from Sasha. Despite you trying to kill her with kindness, she’s just all kinds of intimidating, while this woman is…okay.

Water may do the trick. It might just be cold enough to wake you up. “Good idea. Anywhere I can get some?”

“Should be a cooler down the hall to your right.” She informs. “See, I’d offer to get it for you, but I’ve got a match to get ready for.”

“Well, thanks anyway.” But before you leave, Before you leave, you turn over to her. “This may be an assumption, but are you going against Sasha Banks?” You ask. You could be wrong, but it’s worth a shot to see.

She nods at you. “Smart girl. How’d you know?”

“I talked to her a bit earlier. She wouldn’t exactly tell me she was going in a match, but I guess it was safe to assume it was you.” You say. “If you’d like to be interviewed, I’ll be waiting backstage.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Becky says. She’s more concerned about you getting your water. “Go, I might be here when you get back. Don’t pass out.”

You make a noise to let her know you heard her. Did you make a new friend? You think so.

You’re still a bit disoriented from the lack of sleep. You only made it a few steps down the hall before forgetting the direction she told you to go. Great.

This hallway seemed horribly long. The more you walked, the more you felt like it extended somehow. You need a nap, but you don’t think you’re going to get it until retiring back to your hotel room.

A group of men dressed in what seems to be tactical clothes are sitting around nearby, and you find yourself approaching them in a sudden spur of confidence. It’s probably because you’re tired.

“Excuse me,” you call. All three of them look at you with curious looks, and you feel like you could just up and die right there.

Doesn’t exactly help that they’re all kind of attractive, either.

“Where can I get some water? It feels like I’m dying here.” You ask, using your hand to rub the side of your face.

To them, you looked like you had just completed a damn marathon run. One of them with short brown hair whispers something to another with half-blonde, half-black hair, and you look between them curiously.

You don’t have time for whispers. You want water. It makes you think about purposely passing out in front of them. Rude and manipulative, sure, but you’re not here to gossip!

The other one speaks up to you instead. He’s also got long hair, but you think the most noticeable thing was his sleeve tattoo. You may have been staring too long because he snapped his fingers to get your attention.

At least he wasn’t glaring at you. There was a handsome smile on his face. “You there? Don’t tell me we’ve lost you already. You just got here.”

“Sorry. I’m really tired.” You admit. “Really, REALLY tired. Water would be nice.”

“To your left,” He says. “Should be one over there.”

The exasperation in your voice is ever present when you say: “Thank you!”. You’re dying here. You’ll have to come back and thank your only savior after replenishing yourself. Turning away, you head in the direction he told you.

You don’t hear the snickering behind you as you leave. Too busy thinking about hydration at this point.

Going further down, you see that there still is no water cooler. You’re only met with a dead end, and though there are doors, the signs only tell you that they’re just control rooms.

You’re confused. Why would he send you that way? You turn around and head back the way you came as it must’ve been an honest mistake.

You see them still sitting there with smiles. “Hey, excuse me,” you call, waving your hand. “There’s no water over there. Are you sure it’s that way?”

“We know.” The man who gave you instruction earlier had said. “We just wanted to mess with you a bit. Go that way.” First day on the job and people are already trying to rib you? Goddamn it.

On the bright side, it seemed to be lighthearted. Or so you hope.

This time, you hope, he points the correct way. The only thing you can do is let out a sigh and move forward. You don’t even stay to listen to anything else he says.

"Don't take it to heart!" One of them yells behind you.

You scoff to yourself. This time, they redeemed themselves because you found that lovely water cooler. You immediately pick up the pace and reach out to snatch a cup.

Finally, cold water. You're sure you'll wake up this time. You're almost half tempted to pour some on your face, but you aren't THAT unhinged. Besides, you don’t want to waste it.

The moment you lift your cup and and take a refreshing sip, someone saying “hey” makes you look over, and you nearly spit your drink out.

The guy that had given you the wrong direction had come around. You cough up bits of water, holding a hand on your chest. “Why?! God, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He apologizes. You’re not so sure if it’s sincere. “Stephanie McMahon told me about you. You’re [Name], right?”

It takes you a second to reply and he looks at you expectantly. You hold your hand up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” You nod.

“Roman,” He introduced himself back, setting his hands on the vest of his tactical gear. “I know it’s your first day and all, but do you know who’s in charge?”

“….Vince McMahon?” You offer with a shrug.

Roman chuckles, shaking his head. “You were close. But that’s not it. The Authority is the one in charge.” He clarifies to you. “And you’d best be on their side. Tell me, new girl. Do you plan to be on the side of justice?”

Truth be told, you’re a little intimidated. Again.

You wonder if you even had a choice right now. Before you answer him you decide to take a sip of water, this time, without coughing up a lung.

“Justice, what do you mean by that?”

“The Authority is seeking to make sure that everyone keeps in line.” He explains. “We’ve already got a hold on the men’s division, but the women’s division….”

He trails off, looking toward you expectantly.

“I’m just an interviewer.” You hold your hands up in defense. “I don’t know anything about wrestling. Like anything.”

A lie, but you don’t exactly want to get involved.

You thought it felt weird to call yourself an interviewer, but now you’re going to hold onto that title until it’s convenient enough for you….

“Don’t give me that crap. I know exactly what you are.” So much for that. Roman gets closer to you and you move back just a little. It doesn’t do much, because he’s still in your space.

You’re starting to feel cornered.

“And what I don’t appreciate is people lying to me. Listen, [Name]. Pretty girls like you are always smart. If you knew what’s good for you, you’d better—“

“Hey guys!” A new voice makes you look over Roman. “Roman…and….who’s this?” He points a finger over to you.

“[Name].” You say. This guy might be your potential savior.

He doesn’t really pester any further than that, oddly enough. “Cool. You guys wanna take a selfie?” Before you two could even answer, he’s already approaching with a phone in hand.

“Wait,” You try to stop him. “I’m not ready—“

All Roman does was glare at the camera while you were holding out your hand toward it. He’s already took it and you were caught in the worst off guard moment.

“You guys better get ready for Raw. It starts in like five minutes.” The man recommends. “Thanks for the selfie.”

He saunters off and Roman shakes his head. After the stranger had made some distance, he finally speaks to you. “I can’t stand Theory’s dumbass.”

“Theory?” You repeat. “Who?”

“Austin Theory.” He clarifies. “Won’t stop taking those stupid selfies. It’s all the goddamn time.”

You slowly nod, but take advantage of the fact Austin had said there’s only five minutes until Raw starts. “Gosh. This was such a nice meeting, but I had better get going. You know, interviews and stuff to do.”

Roman says nothing, so you take the opportunity to side-step and walk past him. However, he doesn’t let you get far before saying…

“Better think about what I said. You don’t have much time.”

You’re hoping that wasn’t a threat. And now that you think about it?

He didn’t even apologize for leading you the wrong way!

You were just trying to get ready to be on television. You did everything you could to stand out for your debut, despite some people knowing that you’d show up sometime.

You can only imagine the pre-show talks around on social media. God, you hope you weren’t sweating. You think you’re just overreacting, but you feel like you’re gonna cry.

If you weren’t awake before, you sure are now.

Your phone starts buzzing again on the vanity you were seated at. The stylist who was helping you get things together had stepped away earlier, leaving you be with your thoughts.

Until now. The moment you pick up your phone and open Twitter, you groan.

Roman was right about the selfies being stupid.

Austin had posted it on Twitter. The only thing you’re really focused on is yourself. You look a disheveled mess and you’re happy you could fix yourself up a little bit right now.

You’re reeling as you read some of the responses. Although, some were funnier than others…

@Theory_1 ✓

Roman and some new girl are here today! I caught them in their natural habitat.

1.8K reposts 130 quotes 37K likes

@annsweet_: OMG FREE HER???? WHY DOES SHE LOOK SCARED LMAO

↳ @Lilgrab$78: Nah fr they holding her hostage in there

@Biilionnsmind: Are you serious? [Name] Theory AND Roman? This has gotta be the multiverse

↳ @YourChampion0: Not gonna lie they might be an item. Guess we’ll see if they have something going on or they just were filming something.

@bellstrings: Wait not too much on [Name]…face card is still ACTIVE and ready to TAP!

Along those lines of being mentioned, Austin had followed you as well. But seeing yourself being the talk of others is just surreal. You’re happy about it.

“Hey, [Name].” A stagehand calls. “You’re on in about 2 minutes. You’ll be interviewing Sasha Banks. It’s the only person you’ll be doing, so you’re free to go home after.”

Alright then. You hop up out of your seat. You looked good enough, so you didn’t exactly need that stylist to come back. Your time to shine.

You let the stagehand lead the way to where you’re supposed to be positioned. It’s a nice set up, you think. There’s a red curtain behind you as well as a television settled with “Raw” displayed on it.

“Sasha lost because of interference.” The stagehand informs you. “She’ll go on about the details. But just ask her some questions. She should be here any second now.”

You’ll try. The camera is already settled in front of you, waiting for the go ahead. As soon as he said that, Sasha comes storming into the room. He signals toward the both of you that he’s rolling.

“Wow, Sasha..!” You exclaim, shaking your head. “That was definitely……a match.”

Sasha looks at you with a scowl. “You think?! Becky only got lucky because AJ came out all peppy. I almost had her.” She complains. “I had Becky in the Bank Statement. She was about to tap…”

She literally has to stop talking and take a breath before she loses it. Everyone, even the crowd, can tell that she’s STEAMING.

“…Uh, do you think you’ll need help in the future for AJ? It looks like she’s posing a really big threat to you.” You say. “Cause’ if you’re asking me, it looks like you may need a future tag partner.”

You’re going steady, despite the fact your hand may or may not be shaking a bit. You’re just glad that this segment wasn’t out in the ring. You tilt the mic over to Sasha.

All you had to do was pretend like the camera wasn’t there and that you were having a simple conversation. Everything’s just fine.

You had hoped she would understand that you were insinuating that you could be of assistance, but she takes it the wrong way.

“What, you think I’m not good enough?” She challenges, stepping closer to you. “You think I can’t beat AJ on my own? She’s the one that needs help. That’s why she gets Tamina to do her dirty work. Let me remind you that I’m Sasha Banks. I was the NXT Women’s Champion. The Boss can handle herself in battle and she damn sure doesn’t need someone that’s gonna hold her back.”

“I get it, jeez. I was trying to help you, Sasha.” You explain. It might be a chance to get you active in the ring.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing your job and asking me questions? I don’t need your help.” She fires back.

Whatever. You just shrug it off. “Fine. You want questions, I’ll give you questions. You tagged me on Twitter. When you tagged me on Twitter, was that you trying to put me on notice?”

It’s easy for her to bounce off of what you said.

“You clearly act like you have no idea who I am. Maybe now you’ll get a clue. As a matter of fact, you better leave that fake little sweet innocent act at the door, cause I see right through you.”

“What act? I’m just being me.” It’s true. You really are!

“Right, and Becky must be the best wrestler on the planet…hah! That’s hilarious even thinking about it.” Sasha falls into a laugh, and you fight the urge to smile at her contagious laugh. Instead, you wipe it off in order to look confused.

She takes a breath. “You know what? You wanna help me, prove it to me. You and me, a match next Monday. I know that you’re not gonna do well, but I’ll have fun destroying you anyways, rookie.”

This was your chance!! You can’t fight the excitement, so you immediately agree. “Yes! I mean, yeah. Absolutely. It’s a match, Sasha. Shake on it?”

You offer your free hand to her. Despite her gritting her teeth, she takes it.

Sasha thinks you’re too excited, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t curious to see how you’d fare against her.

Your first match is against Sasha Banks. Thinking about it seemed so surreal. You’ve got a lot to prepare for next Monday.

Sasha’s eyes seem to catch onto something behind you and she groans, snatching her hand back. “Not her—“

“I wasn’t expecting you here, Sasha!” There’s a woman who’s slightly shorter than you that comes over with a championship tucked over her arm. This must’ve been the Divas championship, if the words on the butterfly weren’t evident enough.

“You know, not after you lost. Thought you would’ve went home by now!” She holds onto it even tighter once Sasha gave her a nasty look.

“You must be AJ Lee?” You try to divert some of the tension. “It’s nice to see the divas champion face to face.”

Sasha gags, but AJ giggles at your words. She rubs a hand over the butterfly, looking at you. “Oh pssssh, this? It’s nothing major…it just means I’m the best, but seriously, nothing major. Oh, and Sasha? Sorry Tamina made you lose focus…no hard feelings?”

Sasha rears her fist back and you immediately try to jump in the middle of them. Might’ve been a dumb decision, but it made Sasha immediately freeze once you did. You’re not even sure if AJ flinched.

You’re planted firmly in between them without any plans of moving anytime soon. “Woah, woah woah, can we hold off on the fighting PLEASE?! Why don’t you guys settle it in the ring, just like me and Sasha are?”

“You guys…” AJ looks between you two. “…are wrestling each other? Huh.”

You nod at her. “Yeah. I think you should follow suit. It’s obvious you two have problems.”

“Well, you’re right. It’s not like can’t beat you again, Sasha!” AJ chimes. “Anyway, I’m going to go polish my title! Don’t wait up for me, ladies!”

And just like that, AJ skips off. Sasha slowly turns to look at you and the only thing you can do is look back at her.

“I don’t care,” She starts, pointing a finger at you. “You’re helping in whatever happens, rookie.”

“What?! Why me??” You whine. “This isn’t my issue, the only thing I’m worried about is our match.“

As she’s said earlier, she doesn’t care. “You heard me. All you’ve gotta do is be ready. When I tell you to do something, you go.”

She leaves you with that. An exasperated sigh falls from your lips.

You’ve got more than just your match to worry about now..

#RAWTonight

@WWE ✓

A nearly explosive confrontation tonight on Raw between AJ Lee, [Name], and Sasha Banks. Watch below! 👇🔥

6.7K reposts 310 quotes 67k likes

@xXHibiscus: THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!???!!!

↳ @WomenofWWE: Yess! This is what we need, a strong three-way feud! The newbie, the underdog, and the champion. The storylines kind of have been getting boring. I wouldn’t mind Sasha & [Name] vs AJ, or maybe even AJ & [Name] vs Sasha.

↳ @RaeFed: [name] might’ve just saved us hold on

@RoseGambler: [Name] trying to be a peacemaker 😭

↳ @101Mariposa: SASHA WAS LITERALLY ABOUT TO ROCK AJ PLEASE. SHE NEEDS TO MOVE

↳ @ThenNowForever: Why she hit the “Sasha, this isn’t you”??

@MarkPodcast: Never heard of [Name]..…is she new?

↳ @platinumstarred: yeah she was mainly on the indies, wasn’t bad at all like she was rlly good

↳ @MarkPodcast: Hopefully she’ll stay good while she’s here!

@Feistysummer: Sasha saying she doesn’t need help…then turns around and tells [Name] that she’s going to help LOL

↳ @Divas4L: They’re definitely going to be friends, if not best friends in the future..

[byemambo]

4Minutes EP. 6 - My Takeaways

Y'all...The way I was working OVERTIME trying to figure out how I wanted to explain my thoughts for this episode (this post is extremely long: take that as you will). So please welcome OG TymeGreat vs. NDE (near death experience) TymeGreat and their timelines (everything else under the cut!):

Great Version

Tyme Version

Key Events: Assessing the Timelines

I listed out key events that I felt matched up within each existing timeline (and I'm sure I missed more key events/details that aren't listed in my findings), no matter the person nor alternative reality they're in. For Great's timeline, the key events include:

Waking up to take his exam

Hitting Manee with his car

Receiving the call from Title

Korn being attacked

Great learns Tyme's identity as the attacker

Great confronting Tyme at the hospital the next day

Great confronting his parents for their crimes

Great renounces his ties to his family

While these events occurred regardless of the different decisions Great could make, what was striking to me was Great's distinct characteristics that existed in both timelines while also having characteristics individual to their respective timelines. For OG Great, he's extremely defiant and cynical, especially if he's able to get a rise out of his father for reasons prior to knowing about the business, I'm not exactly sure (except for him being the mistress's son before the first wife committed suicide).

Episode 6 vs. Episode 1

Given that we didn't get any scenes of him bonding with Korn throughout the episode unlike NDE Great, I can only imagine there's a bias towards Korn as the favorite son between the two where one listens and submits while the other vocal and disobeys. Along with being defiant and having the guts to gauge the wold with cockiness, he is also a coward that's easily persuaded and manipulated. This shows up most during scenes like the hit and run or when Title demanded Great to help get rid of Dome's body and in turn, become an accomplice to the crime.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 1

OG Great also operates on this mindset of being silver spooned his entire life more explicitly than NDE Great, and becomes hot headed when placed under immense pressure once he's unable to play mind games with his targets such as Tyme. Even though their hook up and Tyme leaking his sex tape caused a scandal with his dad's company, the amount of trauma Great has dealt with growing up (this kid never played a crane machine game so I can only imagine how lonely his upbringing was) resorts to him chasing after those dopamine hits and becoming shameless as a result.

One of the few times OG Great chose his own morals and acted upon them in the storyline was when he found out about his parents and their involvement with the scheme, but this decision only occurred when people he cared about died or got hurt, like Nan and Tyme. Because he had developed a short spanned codependency on Tyme (whether for more sex or because he found his serious demeanor amusing), once he had been left with nothing due to reasons beyond his control, he leaves his family behind after the confirmation of their crimes.

Unlike NDE Great, OG Great is self centered and only acts when pushed beyond his limits, but only if the consequences of that limit involves someone he genuinely cares about (this is the stark difference between Dome's demise versus Tyme's meltdown after Nan's death). Sure, people can argue that Great knows Tyme at a similar level of depth like he knew Dome (apart from being sexually involved with one another), but his interests peaks in Tyme once he finds out that he's seeking revenge against his father and finds that mere effort entertaining for him. In the OG timeline, Great's flaws directly causes his detriment in the end, getting shot by Dome's older brother Tonkla in vengeance.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 5

In Tyme's timeline, there aren't as many moving parts that we saw on screen as much as Great's (since their particular story is limited narrative through Great's perspective) but these events remain consistent in his story:

Tyme works a hospital shift

Den tells him about his NDE research

Tyme works the night shift with Great in his proximity

Tyme attacks Korn in search of Nan

Great confronts Tyme at the hospital the next day

What I found most interesting in OG Tyme's timeline was how linear and straightforward the events occurred in sequence, which would have been the case if Great never asked him about his occurring NDE symptoms like he did in the NDE timeline while being under Tyme's care. Tyme's prior knowledge to Den's research served as a seed planted in the back of his mind, which if Great hadn't asked him (if he chose to help Title get rid of Dome's body), Tyme would have went along with his plan and shelved Den's research with no intention in intervention. The difference in approach between OG Tyme and NDE Tyme was rooted in their initial encounters, both being Great bumping into Tyme and how it was handled.

If Great continued heading his way, Tyme's initial impression of Great would have been slightly annoyed (which we saw a preview of how he yelled at Great during the first cardiac arrest Great had when he bumped into Tyme and didn't help him). But if Great stopped to apologize and even help Tyme with the papers, there is a hint of consideration in that gesture, even if Great himself is a flawed person capable of doing bad things. For some, basic human decency isn't a mind blowing trait for people to fawn over, but this can be contrasted when Tyme asks P'Anne for his information and finally gets confirmation of Great's identity.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 1

Episode 6 vs. Episode 3

From the perspective of Tyme who's dedicated his personal life in bringing down the family responsible for the death of his parents, I'm sure having a painted image of what inhumane and vulgar things the family is capable of, Great's first impression as the younger son of the enemy is somehow normal? As if this man isn't capable of hurting a fly, let alone killing people like his father does (why did I think of fucking Lord Ozai and Prince Zuko when proofreading this loooooord someone send me to bed asap). Rather than treating Great as just a means to an end with no prior attachment and full intent in harming the family's reputation as OG Tyme would have, NDE Tyme's prior interactions with Great by him helping Tyme with his papers (the readiness to correct his faults while providing a solution to aid in the damage caused, big or small), Great bringing his hurt friend to the hospital without acknowledging his own injuries (a sign of selflessness and reliability) and asking Tyme about his symptoms related to his cardiac arrests and moments of NDE, there are layers being shed off of Tyme's preconceived notions about the family.

Episode 2

Episode 6

Not only are there layers, Tyme's curiosity peaks because why is the son of the family who killed his parents seemingly harmless and clumsy? Shouldn't someone of his background be more cautious and conceal himself more, especially when speaking to a stranger such as Tyme? Does he know what his parents do and the damage they have caused for countless families and victims? In comparison to OG Great who's callous and bold, NDE Great is soft and easily startled, therefore, needs a more calculative and somewhat honest approach to secure a connection to get closer to bringing the family down.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 3

Characterization: A vs. B

When writing my reflections, I found it interesting how TymeGreat's relationship develops within their respective timelines, especially how each encounter they had with one another fueled different emotions and residual feelings. In the OG timeline, their relationship is innately lustful with distance between them, their main objectives involve concealed vengeance, amusement in the series of events occurring between them and not being able to access the full story of the two worlds both individuals were a part of before their paths crossed.

Whereas in the NDE timeline, their relationship began with a curiosity that defied expectations and welcomed communication, such as asking intimate questions and offering valuable solutions to majority of their problems: Great asking Tyme about his cardiac symptoms, Tyme consulting Den about his research after Great's conversation, Great confiding in Tyme about his upbringing, Tyme revealing the cause of his parents' death, Great confronting his own family for their crimes and seeking accountability. All of these traits wouldn't have been present if that initial hit and run played out differently: they would have crossed paths regardless but their attitudes and motives would shape the state of their relationship.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 3

Episode 6 vs. Episode 5

However, there are innate traits that remained consistent in both characters. Great with his impulsivity and tackling his problems head strong, Tyme with his nonchalance and caring attitude towards the people he loves (such as his grandmother). What really caused the divergence of their whims were purely based in the circumstances they find themselves in during their initial encounters. When they met at the bar, Great's impulsivity charged the motion of their relationship, ending with his cowardice separating the two once Nan died at the hands of Samarn. Tyme's detached attitude that drove his girlfriend away from him and poses concern from Den as a fellow doctor in how he denies his patients of their own identity and autonomy, causes him to take advantage of Great's relations to the family, ending in his own death after denying the bribe by Great's father.

Episode 6

Episode 6

Episode 1

Despite it all, the most significant element that both Tyme and Great share is the leverage both have over one another through their emotional attachments, which may seem small in comparison to more flashy events within the storyline but for these two characters: it makes a world of a difference. When NDE Tyme reveals his identity during the ambush against Korn, which led Great to help Tyme find Nan and as a result, saving her life. This is critical as OG Great is inherently a coward with a dopamine deficiency and enjoys causing trouble for his father's reputation at his own demise.

Episode 4

When Tyme is willing to risk his life exposing Great's family to the press, Great reminds him of his grandmother, driving Tyme to accept the bribe from Great's dad and find safety at Aunt Ging's house together. Unlike OG Tyme, whose reserved and passive attitude enables his life to be filled with the absurd and mundane, that money is the driving force of life and the root of all evil that took his parents away from him, so what else is there to live for as long as he avenges his family?

Episode 5

Now for my questions for the last two episodes: if Great dies in the OG timeline and is actively dying in the NDE timeline, since Tyme's destined fate to die in the OG timeline has been altered once he's notified of Great's condition in the emergency room by Den, he has a chance of avoiding death that OG Tyme suffers from. It may be a stretch but look at the two hit men who targeted Tyme and Great.

Episode 1 vs. Episode 5

The hit man in episode 1 look significantly younger than the hit man in episode 5, but same facial hair? The shadow in the first image throws me off but it's freaky to speculate as it sent shivers down my spine whenever I got a better screenshot of them. If I put my two brain cells together: in the OG timeline, Tonkla targets and shoots Great but Tyme is also shot in episode 1, which makes me believe that their timelines are converging somehow as both of them enter their 4 minutes of limbo and their memories and experiences are warped.

In the NDE timeline, because Dome is saved and returns home to Tonkla, the only person reasonable in targeting Great would be Manee after she finds out which family is responsible for her son's involvement in illegal business (which her giving up her life savings and being given the 4th card during her ritual that calls for separation of loved ones). This separation in question is the separation of Tyme from Great as Great's fighting for his vitals to stabilize just as Tyme rushes to the OR?

Because NDE Tyme goes with his grandmother to Aunt Ging's instead of sending her on her own as OG Tyme does, both of them are technically off the radar from being targeted, or at least bought enough time to make a safe escape if Great's father goes back on his word outlined in the proposed bribe. Seeing as Tyme's wearing the same shirt in both timelines at this point, we're now waiting to see how this will play out, and I'm literally so excited to lose sleep all over again.

Episode 1 vs. Episode 6

If you made it to the end, pat yourself on the back! And if you've been actively reading my previous posts regarding my takeaways, I really appreciate the love they've been getting! I'm more than happy to hyperfixate on this series and help out with really digging deep in the details that could help those who are having difficulty following along with the series. Idk, y'all got to yell at Bible on Twitter then because he thinks he's so funny tweeting this:

If y'all would like to read more, check out my tags and thank you again for sticking around, see y'all next Friday or whatever day my brain finishes finalizing its thoughts to share with y'all :)

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

wjieiouwujjj that dragon creator ask was so cute, I love you for doing such a fantastic job writing that. Could I maybe ask for acolytes finding out that their creator with dragon features is absolutely living for any affection gestures like touching their tail, or the base of horns if they have ones, and is literally melting down into whoever who will do it. Maybe with Zhongli and any of Kamisato sibling? If the ask arent open, please just ignore it. Have a good day

Dragon!Reader Want Affection—Gib Now! >:(

Hello Anon! Don't worry—as I am currently writing this, my mailbox is open! I'm so glad you enjoyed the post with Dragon!Reader in it! I wish you too a good day/night :)

Alright, so how did it all begin? Well, Dragon!Reader, upon getting compliment thrown after compliment, started to feel a little...touched starve, to say the least. Sure, the compliments are cool and all—but it felt pretty empty, you know?

So! In solution to this, the Almighty Creator decided the next 3 acolytes to give them some affection would be the ones they would visit the most in the span of a few weeks (at most? A few months) in a straight row.

Of course, you didn't announce this to the world, wanting to see if your people would take initiative first to satisfy your needs and wants. That is, after all, what they had promised to do once you re-descended back down to Teyvat, yes?

Click Me For Part 1!

(Disclaimer: Might be OOC!)

Zhongli

Of course, out of everyone, he would be the first to notice this sudden change! He is a dragon himself, you know!

But, instead of deciding to give head pats out of the blue on the street, he decides to be a little more sly about it. So, naturally, he's going to invite you over to have some tea in the mountains. More specifically, his adeptal abode he still has.

"Please, wait a moment, Your Grace. I shall prepare the finest tea I have for you."

Once you get there, the first thing you get is a hug and a soft rustling of your hair. Zhongli is mindful to not hurt your dragon horns, of course. Man would never want to hurt you.

Sitting down at a table, enjoying some tea and talking about stuff, and the dude decides to pat you on the head for even the simplest of knowledge you share with him.

This guy understands what it's like to be a touched starved dragon, so he knows all the signs.

Man would be so ecstatic to realize the Almighty Creator is deciding to visit him as a "thank you" for the small amount of affection.

Prepare for a lot of hugs and head pats, this guy will make each of your visits worthy of your time.

Kamisato Ayato

This guy, this sly guy...He would honestly pull a gentleman move and give you a kiss on the back of hand when you decide to see him in the Kamisato Estate.

He probably figures out quickly that you want some physical affection, and, upon realizing that he figured it out, he decides to do it fast—something is telling him that the Almighty Creator is giving out some sort of trial.

Plus, he just wanted to make other people jealous that he gets your attention much longer than most others.

"Is something of the matter, Your Grace? Your face is red, if I dare to be blunt." Gives you that small smile of his that tells you he planned this all along. You sigh—this guy was as cheeky as ever.

Imagine how happy he was that he gets to give you more of these gentleman-like behavior since you're visiting for a few weeks straight in a row.

Would make sure no one gets close to you—Ayato wants to be selfish and greedy of your attention alone for a little longer.

Kamisato Ayaka

Tying this with the previous one, since Ayato and Ayaka basically live in the same estate and all that—Ayaka would be happy that the Almighty Creator is visiting them several weeks in a row.

She may or may not have just increased how many times you were going to spend in every Kamisato-owned place, for she had unintentionally hugged you once out of pure joy to seeing you at the front door.

"Your Grace, you're back! Please—allow me to see you in. Would you like some treats? I can have Thoma prepare you something." Genuinely acts like the best host you can ever ask for. She would make sure all of your needs are met.

You can just see the pure joy Ayaka is having of having you here in the estate. Ayato is also happy about it too, so it's a win-win situation for both of the Kamisato siblings. Besides, they don't like to actually fight each other (unless it's sparring), but they do tease one another often.

Enjoy your stay :) It's probably very worth it with Ayato's gentleman-ness and Ayaka's Good Hostess-ness.

And done! This is a whole lot shorter than I thought it would be, but I hope you all enjoyed it! See you around! :D

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I feel like I made Ayato too OOC SOBBING—It probably is :') I'm so sorry Ayato Lovers—I have failed you—

Ahem, anyways—this post was certainly more of a challenge for myself! I'll be honest, I thought I was going to fail very miserably when I realized I had to do Zhongli and Ayato—and I'm still kind of feeling that as of right now tbh. I hope you like how it's written, Anon!

Check Out The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

[destinationtoast]

*waves shyly* Hello!! First off, I absolutely adore all of your stats and get excited when you post new ones -- thank you so much for all that you do!

Secondly, a friend and I have been discussing fandom longevity lately, and I wondered if you have thoughts? Subjectively, it seems to us that new fandoms tend to have more quick bursts of fandom activity when a new season/movie/book/etc comes out that fades quickly with time, whereas older established fandoms have more staying power. I'm curious if you have any insight about whether this is objectively true in most cases or not, and as to whether or not the type of canon source material matters (eg show-based fandoms vs book-based fandoms). I hope you're having a great day <3

Hi there, and thanks! :D This is a great question, and one I have been having a bunch of conversations about lately.

I share this subjective experience -- it sure seems like the attention span of fans and lifespan of fandoms is shorter than it used to be, when I think of how quickly people stop talking about a bunch of newer movies and TV shows these days. And then I see some of the older fandoms like Harry Potter still producing a ton of new fanworks, and I think, "Wow, maybe new fandoms just don't have the staying power of older ones." At the same time, I also question how objectively true/simple that story is for a few reasons, including:

Memory bias: When we look back on the past, the fandoms we remember most are usually the ones that lasted a long time. So our estimates of past fandom longevity may be overly generous.

Changes to fandom size: Maybe any changes to fandom lifespan are mostly due to some other change, like fandom size... Attention is more splintered these days than it used to be across more streaming services/etc, and I think there are more, smaller fandoms than there used to be. Maybe if a fandom doesn't get really huge, it's just not likely to last that long.

For TV fandoms -- changes to canon release schedule: most TV shows used to have seasons that lasted most of the year, so they had a lot more reason to stay in the public mind longer. Now many seasons are shorter and sometimes drop all at once. Perhaps if we compared popular TV procedurals with 22 episodes/season from now vs. ~a decade ago, we'd see similar patterns of fandom activity?

I've been thinking about ways to try to gather quantitative data about the changes, and testing out a few methods. A few ideas I've had:

Look at the Tumblr official lists of top fandoms and see whether the top fandoms tend to leave the top 20 rankings faster now than they used to. (The Tumblr rankings go all the way back to 2013 on a yearly basis, at least -- I'm not sure how long they've been releasing the weekly lists; those may have started later.)

Look at AO3 fandom activity after new canon infusions - how quickly does activity drop off after a new movie/book/video game release, or after a TV season ends? How has the rate of activity dropoff changed over the years? (And how much of that seems to be explained by other factors, like fandom size?)

See how quickly AO3 authors/creators tend to migrate to new fandoms, and how that's changed over time - many authors tend to be active in multiple fandoms, so we'd have to define what it means to migrate to a new fandom, but I think we could do so in a way that would allow us to look for changes.

Look at Tumblr, Twitter/X, and/or Reddit activlty after new canon infusions - same as AO3, but on a platform where people are posting shorter content and there's more of a discussion. (This data would be harder to collect, though.)

I'd love to also hear other ideas. I think I'm going to need some volunteers to help gather data if I do any of the above, though... Readers, if you'd be interested in helping to gather data for an hour or more to help investigate this question, please reply/DM and let me know! And/or join the new fandom-data-projects community.

Also if any readers know of anyone else who has looked into this/similar questions, I'd love to hear about it!

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader Chapter Seven

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter six! If you want to see chapter eight, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

Coriolanus looked far too good for a funeral.

A black suit that had once belonged to his father had been completely reimagined in the span of twenty-four hours by Tigris, who sewed in between sobs. Normally he would have dipped into the fund of Strabo Plinth but for this occasion, he needed to evoke something other than Capitol high society.

Power.

As he turned to look at his own reflection once more,  a tapping at his window caused Coriolanus to pause.   Silently daring the waiting jabberjay to defecate anywhere in his room, Coryo opened the window and let the creepy bird in, watching it perch on his bedpost. 

  “Do you think you could let me borrow the girl for a night or two before Snow marries her? I like them.. spirited.”  President Ravinstill’s voice came through the jabberjay as clear as a bell, repeating over and over.

You.

Ravinstill was speaking of you.

Clicking the remote once more, Coriolanus snapped his fingers and the jabberjay made its way back to the president’s mansion.

  “Coryo? They’re ready for you, Coriolanus.” Your soft voice came through the other side of the door and Coriolanus straightened up and adjusted the rose pinned to his lapel.

  “I’ll be right there.” Coriolanus said, listening to the sound of your heels retreating from the door, the slight discrepancy in your gait reminded Coriolanus that you had still not fully healed from the attack you would not speak of.

The one that took place in The Arena.

How could Coriolanus know this?

Because Coriolanus Snow didn’t just see everything.

He heard everything.

Mere hours after medics confirmed that Grandma’am was beyond saving, you had fallen asleep while comforting Coriolanus, your hand in his as you dozed off on his shoulder.  The jabberjay arrived and Coriolanus was treated to the sound of a gunshot, Ravinstill’s laugh, and to his surprise, a sound that was fresh in his mind.

  Your crying.

On his second playback, Coriolanus heard a muffled phrase in the background, one that to this day still sent him into a miniscule panic.

“Enjoy the show!”

The jabberjay had been a gift from  Dr. Gaul upon completing his first year at The University.  He couldn’t stand the thing, mostly used it for University gossip over the years and after he applied to work in the President's office, he had the jabberjay follow Ravinstill, picking up information he could use once his new position began.

But the jabberjay had picked up something more valuable to Coryo, confirming something that Coriolanus had known from the moment he met you.

You, his precious treasure, were a liar.

Yet he took your left hand with a kiss upon your knuckle and offered his other arm to Tigris, escorting you both to Grandma’am’s funeral.

With his perfect suit and you draped in one of Grandma’am’s furs, Coriolanus had only to wait a few seconds for the flashbulbs to reign down on you both outside, photographers giving up the pretense of not taking pictures of a funeral for a glimpse at something shiny and new.

You could set a camera  on fire.

As the funeral began and Grandma’am’s remaining friends who looked to be in various stages of decay themselves spoke of their dear friend, Coriolanus held Tigris, comforting his cousin and angling his body so the photographers had a better shot of you. 

When it was Tigris’ turn to deliver a few words after a choir sang the national anthem,  Coriolanus focused on the late arrival of President Ravinstill who stopped at his chair and shook his hand, a stately yet somber look on his face.

    “Condolences, my boy. You and your cousin are in our thoughts and if you need to postpone your work start date, you only need to ask.  I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Snow.”

From the corner of his eye, Coriolanus could see that you had started shaking the moment Ravinstill had walked up.

If the president was sorry now, Coriolanus could only imagine just how sorry he was going to be in a few short moments.

Coriolanus delivered the eulogy, speaking of how much Grandma’am loved her garden and her grandchildren but The Capitol most of all.  The more he spoke, the more his voice shook with remembrance of the loss of one of the two women who raised him. 

But all it took was one glance in your direction for the tremble in his voice to vanish, head held high to greet the applause that thundered in upon his conclusion.

So that was it then.

It was to be you.

Coriolanus had known you were lying for quite some time in fact, yet he did not care. He would caress those lies, suck them from your mouth like poison from a wound.

To touch those lies, oh, to touch you.

He would not care.

Did bowing before a lying goddess make his prayers any less heard?

As he sprinkled dirt into Grandma'am's grave some time later, a foot closer to death than he had been in awhile, Coriolanus Snow knew one thing.

He loved you.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

  “Before we say our last goodbyes, I just have one final note. My grandmother believed in hope, she believed in Panem and all that it could be. It is in her honor that I formally announce my bid to run for President of our beloved Panem in the upcoming election, the youngest presidential candidate in our nation’s history.”  Coriolanus said, delighting in watching the blood drain from Ravinstill’s face as gasps filled the gravesite.

Coriolanus could see Lucky Flickerman vaulting over the cemetery gate and sprinting towards him, tripping over his mic every few seconds but there was one last thing he had to do.

Had this been Coriolanus of another time, he would have whispered in your ear of your treachery, exposing what you had done.

But something else happened.

Turning to you, Coriolanus got down on one knee and produced Grandma’am’s engagement ring, plucked from her finger before the medics could finish checking for a pulse.

“Will you marry me?”

This was no ordinary proposal.

This was a declaration of war.

That’s Chapter 7! As usual if you’d like to see Chapter 8, the penultimate chapter before the finale,  please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Omg I'm a bit late because I was dead inside yesterday, so we're going to pretend today is both the first and second day of @obeymetournaments' Obey Me Month! Find the prompt list HERE. I'll make a masterlist of my posts once I get a few days posted. I often have difficulty keeping things short, so I'm using this event as a challenge to write a little drabble each day.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 1 Prompt: Lucifer No warnings apply

You had heard that humans were rarely privy to a high-ranking angel’s true form. Whispers spoke of blinding light, golden rings and all-seeing eyes that would overwhelm a lesser being to tears. The average person would be unable to comprehend such majesty in the flesh, the angel having transcended to an entirely different realm of perception. 

When you first arrived in the Devildom, you had considered yourself lucky that Simeon presented himself in the shape of a man. Then, why did your skin itch at the nape of your neck? Why did you feel as though every twitch of muscle was cataloged by some unseen camera? 

Angels aren’t the only beasts that watch from many eyes. 

You didn’t notice for the longest time. Intimidation prevented you from glancing in Lucifer’s direction for longer than three seconds. His glare would slip to meet your gaze, and you would duck your head, avert your eyes. 

“It’s rude to stare,” He drawled, low and slow as if tasting a particularly complex vintage of demonus. “Though, I don’t mind if you do.”

His wings lifted in a flourish, stretched to their full span with feathers flexed and posed for show. It felt as though you were seeing his true form for the first time. For his wings were not the pitch black color of ravens perched on inky branches, but more the hue of the midnight sky. 

You felt dunked into the abyss of a night void of stars, the glow from the moon snuffed out by the icy void. Like a leopard bathed in shadows, melanistic pelt cloaking its rosettes, dark threads embroidered each feather. A pattern revealed itself as Lucifer ruffled his wings, not unlike the eyes of a peacock’s tail swirling carefully through silken strands. 

They were mesmerizing. Beautiful. So subtle, and yet, now you couldn’t unsee them. 

Just as they couldn’t unsee you.

“Fear not,” Lucifer smirked, folding his wings behind his back. Still, the feathers stared. “You are not the only one I watch.”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

[star--anon]

Do you have any headcanons for thominewt?

this took me several days because I was determined to make this post comically long and I genuinely don't remember why

I also ended up not making it comically long

so uh. sorry

anyway, OH MY GOD SO MANY

Newt is exceptionally good at guessing when Minho and Thomas are trying to hide their pain

and he has no issues with dragging them to bed

Minho probably does stupid shit like "birthday noogies" or whatever, which has inspired a 2v1 of Newt and Thomas VS Minho on April Fools

(Minho still wins, somehow)

Thomas gets dragged into things like astrology and fortune telling by Newt

Every time Minho tries to tell Thomas how stupid astrology is, Newt just scoffs and goes, "Typical Pisces behavior" and drags Thomas away

Minho is not a Pisces. Minho is a Libra.

Thomas calls him an "asymptomatic Libra" and Newt is very quick to jump on that train. Minho hates the both of them so, so much.

Thomas is a Virgo. Newt is a Taurus.

Minho can be turned into putty with enough kisses and hugs and gentle touches. It takes Thomas hours of work, but it's so worth it.

On the weekend, Newt often comes home to a pliant Minho with his face buried in Thomas' chest. Thomas just giggles.

Thomas loves long walks.

Sometimes the three go out together: Thomas strolling down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace; Newt several paces behind, stopping every few seconds to snap a photo of something cool with his fancy camera; Minho several blocks ahead, sprinting like his life depends on it, doubling back whenever he gets too far away.

Thomas and Minho are on piggyback duty if Newt's ankle ever acts up in the middle of a walk

Thomas once fell down trying to pick Newt up, so piggyback duty has mostly been delegated to Minho

Speaking of which, two of the rooms in the house (one of them is Newt's bedroom) are padded with extra insulation to keep it nice and warm during the winter because the cold messes with Newt's ankle

Minho carries heating packs in his pockets at all times and rubs them against Newt's ankle whenever the pain gets unbearable in public

Sometimes it helps, mostly it doesn't. Newt appreciates the effort.

Thomas tries to fight doctors who are reluctant to prescribe medication and/or painkillers.

Thomas studied law and is not afraid to use his Master's.

Newt wanted to get a bird, Minho wanted a dog, and Thomas wanted a cat. They compromised and bought fish.

Newt has names for each individual fish, Minho named all of them Guppy, and Thomas' names for the fish change with each conversation.

Newt prefers baggy clothes and often just steals Minho's stuff because Minho is SO FUCKING JACKED- ...because Minho's shoulder span is so much wider than Newt's

the only issue is that Newt is about three inches taller than Minho, so Minho's "big shirts" are like baggy crop tops

Thomas, who is more Newt’s height, starts buying clothes that he knows Newt will like and smirks whenever it disappears.

When the three go shopping together, Newt often shoves clothes that he wants to wear into Minho and Thomas' carts.

Thomas and Minho like to make bets with each other like "He'll take this one within a week."