#once again wayyy longer than i intended

[faggotry-enjoyer]

if you're here because i reblogged your post with an image description: please edit it into the post. make whatever modifications you want, with or without credit

if you know me in real life: please block me and stay away. i'm not joking, i'm not being hyperbolic. leave.

everyone else: hi

introduction: i'm some guy who hasn't picked a psuedonym. he/it, 18-24, conversion student, disabled transmasc.

this post is required reading (archive link in case my beloved mutual OP deactivates or changes her url), and this post has a number of recommended readings and resources.

pfp source: jewish-microwave-laser

DNI: not really my thing, i'll block you if i feel like it

tagging: i have a very intricate tagging system which i do not fully comprehend. most of my tags are primarily for archival and search purposes rather than filtering, and many of them are vibes-based. if you have anything you'd like me to tag, feel free to ask and i'll either tag it or tell you that i won't.

i take misinformation very seriously. if you see me share some, please let me know in good faith and i will either take it down or publicly correct depending on the exact situation (after verifying your correction, of course). same goes for any and all forms of bigotry and hate. "OP is a Zionist" does not count as good faith correction.

lastly: feel free to say hi, introduce yourself, or reach out in general whether in replies, asks, or DMs. i might take awhile or even forget to respond but i do appreciate it regardless.

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊you and your daughter make breakfast for gojo’s birthday. unlucky for you, gojo’s a little impatient.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.3k words. established relationship. the reader is referred as “mommy” by the kid & “wife” from gojo, but other than that there’s no use of fem terms.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊ for the sake of this scenario everyone pretend it’s december 7th & it’s gojo’s birthday

you hold the bowl of pancake batter, its creamy consistency clinging to the sides. with a gentle tilt, you pour the batter onto the pan, creating round pools of golden goodness. the batter spreads, forming wonky circles that sizzle and bubble as they cook. the aroma of the pancakes fills the air, a tantalizing scent that promises a delicious breakfast. you can’t help but turn up the heat so that they cook faster.

“mommy, i think i’m turning into a minion,” your daughter calls out from behind.

you turn around, only to find her sitting at her mini table. her eyes are fixed on her tiny fingers, that are spread out in front of her.

“what do you mean?" your words hang in the air momentarily before you turn your gaze back to the stove. with a flick of your wrist, you flip the pancakes, their golden surfaces glistening in the warm light.

“’m turning purple! look!”

you take another glance back. her hands in the air being the first thing you see. but, then you notice the bag of blueberries sitting on the table.

your lips quiver as you fight to stifle your smile. “baby, it’s the the blueberries you’re munching on that are making you purple.”

her eyes widen, she lowers her hands, and this time she looks at them with a slight pout.

you return to making pancakes, plating the few that seemed to be done. one was on the verge of being burned, and you intended to give it to gojo. he's been calling you nonstop ever since you came downstairs this morning, asking for updates on his birthday breakfast. you're sure if it hadn't been for your baby girl (who insisted on giving her father breakfast in bed), you'd have forced him get up and do it himself by now.

"mommy, can we put blueberries in the pancakes? pretty please?”

“of course.”

you don’t need to turn around to know what your child is up to. you hear the unmistakable sound of her stuffing blueberries into her mouth. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you imagine the adorable scene unfolding behind you.

"yay!! speci...purpl...pancakes!" the excitement in her voice is evident, even with her mouth full.

"hey! if you're gonna be putting blueberries in the pancakes, you can't be eatin-" just then, your phone rings.

you catch a glimpse of the screen, noticing the familiar contact photo under 'my love'. oh, he's definitely getting a burnt pancake. you might even make another on purpose.

knowing he'll just ask about breakfast, you decide to watch it ring. he calls at least twice before his voice echoes through the house, urgently calling for his daughter to answer the phone. with blueberry-stained hands, she skips to the counter, reaching for your phone and answering it.

“hi daddy!” she waves in the camera.

“hi my sweet girl, what’s your momma doing?”

she turns the phone around, and through the camera, gojo can see you plating the remaining pancakes from the pan.

“those are the boring pancakes, mama’s making purple ones next!”

“can i have some of the boring ones first? i’m starving,” your husband whines.

“no, no, no! mama said you have to wait.”

“can i see that?” you fumble, trying to find a clean spot on your apron to wipe your hands off.

your daughters huffs at gojo, eager to hand over the phone and retreats to her table.

on the screen, you’re greeted by the sight of gojo’s smile and his relaxed, sprawled-out posture.

despite his sweet face, you hover your finger over the end call button anyway. “bye satoru.”

his smile drops. “that’s not even fair. it’s been—what—an hour?”

“with lots of breaks thanks to you.”

“you can talk to me and cook…bonus points for me being able to watch you.”

at that, you roll your eyes.

he frowns. "what?”

“a few more minutes of waiting won’t hurt.” you press the "end call" button, cutting off gojo’s pleads mid-sentence.

he’ll be fine.

you gently place your phone on the counter, shifting your focus to your little one. with a warm smile, you ask, "you wanna add the blueberries now, baby?"

"huh?" she mumbles, raising her head from where she was plucking at her fingers. "what did y’say?”

you playfully shake the bowl of leftover pancake batter in front of your face, capturing your daughter's attention. it's your way of letting your daughter in on the secret, a non-verbal cue to convey what exciting plan you have in store next. “you ready?”

"yes!" she runs towards you, giggling uncontrollably. in her hands, she's got the bag of half-eaten blueberries. the ones you specifically told her not to keep munching on, but she couldn't really resist. as she draws near, she extends her hands high into the air, a silent request for you to lift her onto the counter. without hesitation, your arms embrace your little one, effortlessly hoisting her up. in a matter of seconds, she’s perched on the counter.

you both scoop a handful of blueberries, and sprinkle the berries into the bowl of leftover pancake batter, watching as the vibrant blue jewels disappear into the mixture.

just as you two start to get lost in your pancake-making, a faint sound of footsteps echoes from upstairs. your girl’s eyes widen as gojo sluggishly descends the stairs, rubbing his eyes and tousling his hair.

for a split second, you manage to catch his attention. you raise your brow, wondering if he ever learned the basics of patience (or if he learned patience at all). but, true to his slow demeanor, he remains unfazed, maintaining his relaxed pace.

with a sleepy smile, he joins you at the kitchen counter, wrapping his hands around your middle. the feeling is pure warmth, like a human blanket. it's amazing how, even after so much physical contact, his touch manages to make you feel cozier with each touch.

you lean in closer to him, trying to catch what he whispered in your ear. "hm? what was that?"

“food?”

you sigh, “I wanted us to all eat it together. when it’s done?”

he groans and retreats, making a beeline for the ready-made pancakes. you catch his eye and shout, "uhn uh!"

as your daughter continues to drop blueberries in the bowl, you quickly place your hand over her lap to keep her steady. with your other hand, you tug on gojo's sleeve. you give him a gesture to come back, and he follows your lead.

“I’ll do it,” you say.

you head over to the counter where the finished pancakes are, and plate a single piece. as you bring it to him, you glance at the black crispy top and think, "I definitely should've made more of these."

you slide the plate in front of him, and your daughter cringes at the sight. “ta-da! happy birthday baby! since it’s a special day I tried a new recipe and…” you shrug.

gojo licks his lips, bites them, and lets out a breathy laugh. he keeps glancing at you and then the pancakes, repeating the sequence.

you nod your head and motion towards the food with an open hand. “I thought you wanted to eat?”

glancing cautiously at his daughter, he replies, “wow, babe. you really outdid yourself this time. burnt pancakes?” he turns to you. “and you said you were a ‘better cook’ than me.”

you ignore his comment. “maybe I should make these more often? I kn— “

“oh, absolutely. I mean, who needs fluffy, huge pancakes when you can have charcoal—“ he picks up the pancake, “discs?”

with your daughter's laughter in the background, it creates a unique blend. it adds charm to your conversation, despite the contrasting moods.

you cross your arms, “you should be proud I made them without shape cutters. pretty creative,” you pause. “now eat up.”

“there’s no way in hell y—“

“daddy has to put money in the swear jar!”

[shih-coulda-had-it]

DELIRIUM with Nana and young Toshi if you'd like?

WAYYY LONGER THAN 10 SENTENCES, but you were also the only one who asked for the fic prompts so. :D

context: Toshinori noticed his Quirkless friends were signing up for a sketchy summer camp (like, you know those paper ads taped on street sign posts with the numbers? Do Not Emulate This Behavior), and realizing that pro-heroes didn't have jurisdiction over non-Quirk issues, didn't tell Nana and Sorahiko ahead of time that he would 'infiltrate' and take down the program from the inside. It is due to sheer luck and a nagging instinct that Nana goes, "Hey, where is my apprentice."

//

When Sorahiko told Nana that she had picked up a trouble magnet, Nana wisely made the decision not to correct him. Young Toshinori did not attract trouble; he chased after it with all the passion and single-mindedness of a bloodhound, armed with nothing more than his fists if he couldn’t find a convenient meter-long pipe. Giving One for All to Toshinori was going to enable his terribly blasé approach to self-preservation, but at least it would give him a tool to save his life.

She regretted not having given One for All to him already. If he’d had it, maybe he wouldn’t be trapped in this cabin, waiting for a ‘camp counselor’ to unbar the door from the outside. 

Yeah, she was definitely giving Toshinori One for All when he turned fourteen. Sorahiko could scream into his hands all he wanted.

Nana let herself into the unlit cabin, closed the door behind her, cracked a glow stick and tried not to scream herself, seeing Toshinori’s body sprawled on the wooden floor. She bolted to his side and scanned for injuries, but the light from the glow stick was dim and green. The most she could discern were the zipties around his wrists and ankles.

Her young successor flinched awake when Nana touched his shoulder. He stared at her, uncomprehendingly, with his mouth partially opened in a gasp. He looked his age for once.

“Toshinori-shonen,” she opened, intending to sound brisk and business-like, because the alternative was to sound like his mother, which she clearly was unqualified to be. Before Nana could get another word in, Toshinori scrambled to get further away, pressing his back to the wall.

“You can’t be her,” Toshinori said. His voice trembled, and the automatic shaking of his head made his bangs swish back and forth. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re not really here. Oshishou wouldn’t come get me, because I got myself into this mess, and I have to get myself out. I didn’t--I didn’t even leave her a message. Who are you, really?”

“Kiddo, it’s me.”

“I’m not falling for that!”

“Shh!” Nana looked back towards the door, raising her hands like she could stifle the sound. Distractedly, she said, “Toshinori-shonen, you haven’t answered any of my calls for the past week, and you left a paper trail. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“A paper trail?” he echoed. “I didn’t! Who are you?!”

Nana shushed him again but was startled by his clumsy tackle, and the ineffective flailing of his pointy elbows and knees. She yelped and dropped the glow stick.

“I’m not gonna let you trick me,” Toshinori babbled, thrashing like a fish out of water. “Oshishou isn’t coming for me, because I didn’t tell her anything! She’s not going to waste her time trying to find some stupid Quirkless kid! And--and--!”

“Toshinori!” she snapped, and grappled her kid so he was flat on his stomach. Without hesitation, Nana reached up and broke the plastic around his wrists using One for All. “All Might, it’s me. Seventh Wonder. I’m here.” She let Toshinori up to roll around, and she sat back on her heels as he slowly, painfully propped himself upright.

“But you can’t be. I--I lied to you.”

“You did say you needed a vacation,” Nana said in a tone so dry, Toshinori cracked a nervous smile. She gestured towards his ziptied ankles. “You okay to handle that? We’re jailbreaking this camp, and I thought you’d like to free yourself first.”

“Did Gran Torino come with you?” He rubbed his forearms, chafed his palms, and then leaned forward to look at the restraint. It was digging into the skin. Nana hoped that Toshinori would ask for help--that he would believe that Nana had come to rescue him.

“He’s raring to kick some ass.”

“They’re not using Quirks,” Toshinori told her. He found one end of the ziptie and started tightening the loop. “That’s how I know you’re not real. I have to do it. Oshishou and Gran Torino are pro-heroes, they wouldn’t risk their licenses breaking the law. I’m handling it. I’m handling it, I swear.”

Okay, next plan after giving Toshinori One for All: a secretive lecture about Gran Torino’s historical breaking of the law.

Nana intervened with whatever harebrained idea Toshinori had about ripping the ziptie by jamming one gloved finger between plastic and flesh. It was easier to do so with the ankles than the wrists, especially with how bony Toshinori was. Her kid froze.

“Gran Torino’s out of uniform right now,” she reassured him. “He’s going to pretend to be a speedster, call an anonymous tip to the local heroes, and beat the snot out of the counselors for as long as he can. I’m going to smash into the scene like I’ve been chasing my arch-nemesis once I get you secured.

“With a little bit of theatrical flying and property damage, we’ll uncover the barracks and get the kids out. You have the choice of joining Gran Torino in the getaway car, or staying with the kids to provide a soundbite and evidence. Understand?”

He blinked, several times. And in a small voice, Toshinori asked, “Oshishou?”

She smiled at him, and with a flash of One for All, broke the second ziptie. “That’s me, Toshinori-shonen.”

[vaultscavver]

wasteland, baby!

falloutober day two: NEON 5.3k / ( eventual sole x hancock x maccready )

a/n: this is wayyy longer than i intended, but once i started writing i just couldn't stop. i've actually deleted nearly half of this chapter (it was originally nearing 9k words) just to make it feel more organized, but i really like the idea of the sole survivor contemplating philosophy and morals and ethics in this wasteland they don't know how to live in, so i kept a lot of the scenes that are mostly just nora's inner thoughts. it can be kind of dreary and slow-moving but it'll speed up quick enough! i just really wanted to touch base on some topics that, realistically, nora would probably find herself overthinking constantly. i also really love nick valentine so i really wanted to introduce him early on to set up his dynamic with nora <3 i hope you enjoy!!

xx, scavver

SYNOPSIS — Ripping apart the Commonwealth in search of her son, Nora runs into dead ends at every turn. Tracking down Nick Valentine, a synth detective with a sarcastic streak, only led her to another rocky road that cut straight through the heart of the city: Goodneighbor.

─ ─── ──── ─── ♠ ─── ──── ─── ─

"Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel in distress scenario." The detective, shrouded in darkness, was clicking a lighter as if they had all the time in the world. "Question is, why did our hero risk life and limb for an old private eye?"

Nora stared at the shadow, incredulous and more than a little frustrated. Diamond City had been more trouble than it was worth; the detective wasn't even there, having left weeks prior to work a case in Park Street Station, and his secretary was half-sure he was dead. But Nora's son was still out there, in hands that weren't her own, and finding the detective felt like the only viable option available to her.

She had snuck past dozens of gangster-like triggermen inside the station in order to get to Nick Valentine, her hands shaking as she was forced to shoot at them before they shot her, and when she finally got to the room the detective was trapped in, he was just... standing there.

Nervously checking the magazine of the gun she picked up (she had no idea what it was, only that it had bullets and a trigger and could probably kill someone), Nora used her sleeve to wipe blood off of the stock. Her shoulder, where her son's kidnapper had shot her, burned with the movement.

The idea of taking a life wasn't something she was ready to face, but the gun-wielding maniacs who attacked her at first sight were obstacles in the way of finding her son. She had to fight back.

Valentine managed to light his cigarette as Nora stood there silently. The orange glow lit up his face — and Nora forgot all about the blood on her gun.

The detective's face was torn down the left side, exposing a metal jawline and clicking mechanisms, the gaping hole of ripped not-flesh following the column of his throat and disappearing under his beige trench coat. As he put his lighter away, the dim glow of fluorescent light from across the room gleamed from his equally robotic hand.

"Look, I know the skin and metal parts ain't comforting, but I still need to know why you went through all this trouble to cut me loose." Valentine said flatly, inhuman yellow eyes narrowing at the gasmask she wore, which she was instantly thankful for: she had no idea what her face must have looked like upon realizing that Diamond City's famous detective was a robot.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Nora tried to make her voice as nonchalant as possible. "I need you to find someone, but it's... complicated. I don't know where he could be, exactly how long he's been gone, or who took him."

"Hm. I've done jobs with less. Somehow, nice and simple never make it onto the menu in my world." He exhaled a cloud of smoke, the grey wisps twirling out of his exposed neck and cheek, and brought his cigarette to his lips again. "I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't a hostage at all, but rather Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak. You've got troubles, stranger, and I'm glad to help. But now ain't the time. Let's blow this joint. Then we'll talk."

Giving a single, sharp nod, Nora turned to leave. "The way out isn't completely clear; we might have to fight through some—"

"No, stranger, you misunderstand." The detective fixed his frumpy coat and hat, tossing his half-finished cigarette to the side. "I'm wrapping up my Malone case, then we're leaving."

"Fuck your case." Nora snapped back, her mask modulating her voice and making her sound a lot tougher than she actually was. "If the girl wants to be here, let her. I don't give a fuck. My kid is missing and I'm not wasting any more time here."

"If you want my help, we're doing it my way. I don't drop a case until the damn thing's closed." Valentine didn't seem bothered, as if he dealt with worse on the daily... which was probably true. He smoothly stepped passed her and picked up a revolver from a dead triggerman.

Feet rooted to the spot, it took Nora a solid count of ten before she could make herself follow the detective, her entire body trembling with both nerves and anger.

As they continued deeper into Park Street Station, the half-built unused Vault started to feel endless. Each hallway looked exactly like the last, and the steep staircases only made things worse. The maze of locked doors and trigger-happy gangsters weren't fun, either.

Reloading her gun, hands shaking, Nora decided she wasn't bothered so much by the killing, but rather the fact that it was so easy. Taking someone's life was always the subject of horror, of grief, a character trait of every bad guy in every piece of fiction she'd ever consumed.

But as soon as one part of the human body fails to work in tandem with the rest... lights out. Just like that. A little too much blood lost, a wound a little too close to the neck, a punctured organ, a hard hit to the head — death was always hovering close, waiting for the first opportunity to swoop in.

It was kill or be killed, Nora reminded herself as she raised the gun again, gunshots ricocheting around the metal walls, bullets tearing through her enemies like playdough. It felt like a physical burden, to carry the weight of their lives, to carry each shot, each pull of the trigger. None of it left her. It never got easier.

She would get her son back. She would. And if this was what she had to do to get there, then so be it.

Valentine was talking to her as he led her through the Station, but she barely heard him.

He knelt down next to another locked door, the sharp metal rods of his robotic fingers clicking as he picked the lock. "I think this is the one. Once we step through this door, get ready for anything."

The door slid open not a moment later, and Nora lunged out of the way, putting her back to the wall as pullets rained upon where she'd been standing not a moment earlier. She grimaced in pain as her shoulder knocked against the metal of the wall, sending a sharp tang of pain through her entire arm.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" A new voice yelled, a Chicago accent ringing in his tone. "That's Nicky! C'mon, man, what're ya doin'? You come into my house, shoot up my guys? You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?"

Valentine snorted from the other side of the doorway, where he'd ducked for cover. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell Darla to write home more often."

A shrill woman's voice laughed. "Aw, poor little Valentine! Ashamed you got your ass beat by a girl? I'll just run back home to daddy, shall I?"

The detective swooped around the doorway casually, walking out towards Malone and his gangsters.

Nora followed more hesitantly.

Malone was wearing a crisp tux that matched Darla's sparkling dress, and the rest of his crew wore beat-up mismatched suits, their submachine guns pointed toward Valentine.

Skinny shook his head, "Should've left it alone, Nicky. This ain't the old neighborhood. In this Vault, I'm king of the castle, you hear me? And I ain't lettin' some private dick such us down now that I got a good thing goin'!"

"I told you we should've just killed him!" Darla stomped her foot, pin-straight hair swaying. "But then you had to get all sentimental! All that stupid crap about the old times!"

"Darla, I'm handling this! Skinny Malone's always got things under control!"

"You call yourself Skinny Malone?" Nora blurted, words falling out before she could catch herself. "Like, unironically?"

Darla's icy eyes turned on Nora. "Who's his friend? He must've brought her here to rub us all out!"

"...Tempting, but no." Taking a slow step forward, Nora stood next to Nick, her hands raised in a sign of peace. "Darla, listen to me. You have a home to go back to. You don't want to throw your life away with these thugs, not when you can do so much better somewhere else."

Immediately, the girl's chin started quivering. Darla burst into tears, blue and black eyeliner running down her face, "You're right! You're right! What am I doing? I've gotten all mixed up!"

"Darla?" Skinny tried to hold her, arms out for a hug, but she shoved passed him and raced towards the subway station's exit. "Wh-where are you goin?!"

"Home, Skinny!" She cried over her shoulder, "Where I should have stayed!"

Skinny Malone seemed at a loss for words as Darla escaped, a moment of silence passing as his grief and shock was replaced with anger. "Come on, Nicky! You cost me my men, now your little friend cost me my girl?"

"My little friend here just did you a favor, Skinny. You've always had bad taste in women. Besides, don't you think Darla's a little too young for you?" Valentine put his revolver on a nearby table, spreading his empty hands towards Malone. "Now that she's not around to feed that temper of yours, maybe you'll see sense and let us walk? You still owe me for two weeks in this hole."

"You smug, overconfident ass." Skinny put down his weapon, too. "You get to the count of ten. I see any of your faces after today, I'm gunning you down!"

Valentine wrapped a metal hand around Nora's elbow. "Let's get out of here. Fast."

They took off running, Valentine leading the way through the Vault's exit and from there, through the abandoned tunnels of what was a construction site two hundred years prior.

Climbing through a maintenance tunnel to safety, they found themselves in the middle of a street in Boston. Nora vaguely recognized the buildings around them, mostly brownstone apartments with a few scattered shopfronts that she'd never gotten the chance to properly explore before the world blew up.

Valentine lit another cigarette. "Ah, nothin' like the empty Commonwealth sky... never through anything so naturally ominous could end up looking so inviting."

Glancing up at the sky above them, Nora cringed. There were no stars, only green-tinged clouds covering the moon, and a ripple of irradiated heat moving across the pitch-black nighttime sky. She was thankful again for her gasmask. She had no idea what state she would be in if she were to inhale the post-nuclear-bomb irradiated air.

She turned the glass lenses of her mask towards the robotic detective, tilting her head. "I'd probably use different wording."

Laughing, Valentine took another huff of his cigarette. Could he even feel the nicotine? What kind of robot smoked? "Thanks for getting me out. How did you know where to find me?"

"Your secretary."

"Ellie? Huh. She's a worrier. I figured she'd've thought I'd died and have sold the agency by now. I'm surprised she told you anything at all, with that mask you're wearing. One look at you and half of Diamond City would've been screaming synth."

"...Synth?"

He went quiet, eyes narrowing at her again. Then, softly, "Synthetic person. Like me. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells. I got built, I got old, I got tossed. Now there's newer, more humanlike synths running around, and I opened up that little agency in Diamond City, and it turns out people have plenty of missing friends they want me to find. Missing friends who typically turn out to be synths, if you believe the stories. In fact, you mentioned a missing person. No trace where he's gone?"

It took Nora a long moment to wrap her head around what he was saying. People were being kidnapped and turned into robots? If that's what happened to her son... "No trace. Just... taken from Vault One-Eleven."

"Hm." Examining her unblinkingly, Valentine exhaled a long billow of smoke. "Who else have you told about this?"

"A Mister Handy robot named Codsworth. He's an old friend. I thought he deserved to know."

The corners of Valentine's mouth went up and for a moment, Nora couldn't see any robot in his expression, not a single trace of any synthetic-ness in his being. Minus the tear in his cheek that exposed metal and wiring, he seemed... human. She wondered what he was like when he was new, before he was visually different from an organic person.

Valentine finished his cigarette and stomped it out. "I've got a hunch. We should start in Goodneighbor."

"Where?"

"The heart of the Commonwealth. You're lookin' for someone, then Goodneighbor's your place. Everybody knows everybody there. Ready to go?"

Not at all. Nora was the farthest thing from ready. She didn't want to take a step forward, she wanted to take two hundred years worth of steps back, to go back to her home and her son and her family and her plans before the world went to absolute shit. But, gulping past the bile in her throat, she managed to nod, putting one foot in front of the other. "Yeah. I'm ready."

─ ─── ──── ─── ♠ ─── ──── ─── ─

The zombies found them in exactly twelve seconds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" Nora stumbled in her too-big boots, her heavy gasmask shifting on her face with every thundering step she took, running as fast as she could through the city.

She didn't know where the detective went. She'd lost him when the hoard found them.

And she didn't know where she was going, but running was easy, running was safe, running was the only instinct that seemed beneficial. The familiar streets of Boston all seemed wrong, and she circled the same building twice before ushering herself on a different path, hearing the screeching and slapping of the zombies chasing after her.

Heart pounding, sweat dripping down her spine, legs pumping faster and faster — she didn't even care what kind of sounds she was making. She couldn't take on a dozen zombies.

Her lungs rattled as she breathed heavily, the metallic taste of blood on her tongue, her own warm breath filling the gasmask that sat wrong upon her face.

Even with half-decayed feet, the zombies were fast. They fell over themselves just long enough for Nora to have the upper hand, heaving herself up onto the roof of an old school bus and falling onto her ass on the faded, peeling yellow paint, panting and clutching her wounded shoulder, which had started to bleed through the haphazard bandages she'd wrapped it in, the blood soaking all the way through her jumpsuit and spreading along the blue fabric.

On the ground, unable to climb, the decaying zombies screamed furiously at her. She shrieked right back at them.

Then she wasted three bullets, her shaking hands missing every shot.

"Studied my ass off for a degree, and what do I show for it? Jack shit."

Reloading the gun wasn't as easy as she felt it should've been, but she managed to get the bullets secure and fired again, this time hitting one of the creatures in the shoulder. It's entire arm detached and fell to the ground with a sick, sad plop.

It stopped screaming and stared down at the limb with mild interest. Then, slowly, it's foggy-eyed gaze lifted and locked onto Nora.

The others were still crowding the bus, trying and failing to climb it, shoving each other down and attacking their fellow undead in their eagerness to get to Nora.

But that one zombie, with the smokey black eyes, just continued to stare. Nora found herself staring back. She memorized the slope of it's haggard skin, the tearing of flesh and the exposed bone of its jaw, the bloodstained clothes that were better described as scraps and rags.

It was human. Or it had been, once. She wondered how it became as it was now; could its circumstances be explained by some kind of virus or disease? Was this the outcome of the nuclear waste? The irradiation?

The Pip-Boy that she'd taken from a skeleton in Vault 111 started clicking. She was familiar with the Geiger counter, but the ominous half-there clicks still made her blood go cold.

Nora didn't know how long she sat on the roof of the school bus; heart heavy with a grief that wasn't her own. Long enough for the armless creature to finally leave, and long enough for her to teach herself how to properly reload a handheld pistol.

The foul-smelling rotting zombies eventually seemed to forget what they were fighting for and wandered off, grunting and hobbling along the rubble of the roads. Some of them just collapsed, twitching, waiting for the next meal to approach them instead of hunting for it.

While sitting there, bringing all of her limbs tight to her body to prevent the zombies from grabbing her, Nora questioned the morality of shooting them. Was there a person left in the husks of bodies trying to tear her apart? Was the stare of the creature a reaction of the human it used to be, or just a mindless action done by a zombie that had no thoughts outside of hunger?

Did killing them count as survival? Or did they need help? Was there some kind of cure she hadn't heard about yet? Maybe the kindest thing to do was put them out of their misery.

Nora decided she hated ethics.

It shouldn't be her job to decide what lived or died; and she'd killed enough for the day, enough for her lifetime.

Eventually, the hoard roamed away, scattered into the concrete jungle, out of her view.

The city was drenched in darkness, the moon casting a dim glow over the rubble.

Sliding off of the bus as carefully as possible and lowering herself to the ground, Nora snuck into the shadows at the edge of the road, away from where the zombies had gone. She turned to the right, seriously hoping this path wouldn't kill her, and started walking as carefully as she could, avoiding the gravel and debris littering the ground.

But the zombies saw her anyway.

Nora took off in another sharp run, not even caring where she was going, not even caring if she never found Nick Valentine again — she just needed to get away.

The creatures grunted and groaned, and she could hear the gross slapping of their decayed feet as they scrambled and stumbled towards her, but she didn't dare look back.

Climbing a patchy wall and jumping over another pile of rocks from a broken building, she came to a sudden stop at the sight of bright neon lights.

The sky was dark and dim, heavy with bog-like green clouds covering what little glow the moon provided — and the hot pink mismatched lettering of the giant sign reading GOODNEIGHBOR was jarring. It was set upon a clumsily made but sturdy-looking wall between two towers, nestled in the old historic district of Boston. As far as Nora knew, there were museums and a hotel and a couple of restaurants in this area, but she was too shocked to move.

She'd expected Goodneighbor to be, well, a neighborhood. Not some random corner in the middle of the city.

The zombies, somewhere in the ruins behind her, maybe a street or two away, started screeching. Gunfire echoed across the building, the screaming of humans accompanying that of the undead.

They'd found new prey.

Despite being ill, tired, feeling disgusting, and half unable to even comprehend this new, horrible world... she wanted to trust Valentine, to trust that there was someone within this patch of the city who could help her.

She made her way to the gate, edging it open and slipping inside. The occasional dim streetlight broke the darkness, the flickering of candle flame lighting up storefaces and dirty sidewalks. Above, the dark green clouds crackled with the oddest lightning Nora had ever seen.

But as she stepped further into Goodneighbor, her heart lurched with yearning.

There were people loitering around; real, actual people. Not zombies, not homicidally insane trigger-happy madmen shooting at her for no reason, and not the snobs of Diamond City who cringed and hid from her as she walked through the haphazard streets.

Even in the darkness, the night sky looming green and sickly above them, humans perched upon stools and stood lazily in front of small shop tables, talking and laughing and drinking together, wearing all sorts of mismatched clothes. Nobody was attacking each other. Nobody was screaming. Nobody seemed... frightened, like they had in the other city.

This place was safe. This place was safe.

She had to find the detective — he should already be here, somewhere.

Nobody paid her any mind as she took another few careful steps forward, glancing around nervously at the handful of people bustling in the shops to the right side of the entrance. To the left was a big brownstone building with boarded windows and an alleyway to the side that led to what Nora presumed was the other half of whatever "Goodneighbor" was.

Slowly, so as to not draw unwanted attention, Nora edged closer to the small crowds of people, trying to find Valentine.

"Hold up there." A man stepped in front of her, hands out. His bug-like eyes bore into hers with devious intent.

She tried to step away, but he matched her movements, drawing closer as she stepped back — he cornered her back in the entryway of the city, approaching slowly like he was stalking prey.

The man wore a leather jacket and matching pants, a skull bandana over an otherwise bald head, and a cigarette hanging from very pale lips; everything about him seemed washed-out and ill, and he blinked too much like he didn't really know if what he was seeing was real.

"Excuse me," Nora tried to evade him, raising a hand to her face to make sure her gasmask was still in place, her shoulder aching with the movement. "I'm looking for a detective—"

"First time in Goodneighbor?" He asked, unmoving, as if he hadn't heard a damn thing she'd said. He gave a low chuckle, rubbing uneven stubble. "Can't go walkin' around without any insurance."

"I'm not interested. Just here to look for someone."

"C'mon, now, don't be like that, sweetness... I think you're going to like what I have to offer."

He took another step forward and Nora took a step back, trying to keep an even distance between them. But he was quick, too quick for the dazed look in his eyes.

Like a viper, he lunged towards her, grabbing her arm and holding tight enough to bruise — the movement knocked her shoulder out of place, and as he tugged her arm, pain shot through her entire body. She tried to yank away from him but stopped at the stabbing twinge, the blood draining from her face.

His other hand, which casually removed the cigarette from his lips and held it precariously between two fingers, rose towards Nora's chest, easily undoing the singular button that held together her black canvas coat — as he released the button, the material fell away, revealing the bloodstained blue jumpsuit from Vault 111.

He seethed, lips pulling back in what could've been a snarl as easily as it could've been a smile. "Now, sweetness, you're gonna hand over everythin' you've got on you, yeah? Including that fancy Pip-Boy. Or else accidents will start happening. Big, bloody accidents."

"Whoa, whoa! Time out!" Another man swaggered over with his hands up to deescalate the situation, and Nora did a double-take, breath catching in her throat at the sight of him. "Someone steps through the gate the first time, they're a guest. Lay off."

The man was on the shorter side, with a giant tricorn hat to make up for the height. He wore a red frock coat to match the hat, an old American flag as a belt, and a frilly white shirt — making him look like he just stepped out of some off brand of the Hamilton Musical. But the outfit wasn't what caught Nora's eye.

He was a zombie. Or, he looked similar enough to the one Nora had stared at only minutes beforehand. His skin looked... burned, in a way, almost like it was peeling off of his skull. He had no nose, no hair, and his scarred skin was discolored and half-gone, large indents carved into his cheeks, pulling around his sarcastic smile.

"Why d'you care?" The pale guy, still holding onto Nora's arm, dropped his cigarette and stomped it out harshly with a metal-lined boot, sneering at the man in the red coat. "She ain't one of us."

The scarred man sported a misty expression and a hyena grin, but there was no mirth in his expression. "You ain't hear what I said? Let her go, Fin. Last warning."

Fin squeezed Nora's arm, and black spots danced in her vision. He grunted out, "You've gotten soft, Hancock. Keep lettin' outsiders walk all over us and soon there'll be a new mayor. Like what you did to Vic, yeah?"

"C'mon, man, this is me we're talkin' about!" Hancock's grin widened as he walked confidently towards Nora and Fin, close enough for Nora to see the stormy grey of his foggy eyes — just like the armless zombie on the street. He leaned closer to Fin, "C'mere, c'mere, let me tell you something..."

Fin, either high or stupid, fell for the bit and leaned in.

Hancock casually grabbed the man's shoulder, patting twice like one would for an old friend.

A knife appeared in Hancock's other hand, and in an instant, the blade was driven into Fin's chest.

Nora yelped as Fin went down, almost taking her with him. She scrambled backwards, ripping from his slackened grasp, and stumbled over her too-big boots, falling on her ass. Blood splattered over her blue jumpsuit.

Stabbing Fin three times, Hancock had his teeth clenched as he finally let Fin's body fall heavily onto the cobblestone ground, limp and lifeless. He tutted, "Now, why'd you have to go and say that, huh? Breakin' my heart over here."

On the ground, Fin let out a whine, wide eyes staring up at the starless sky as blood puddled around him, his ribcage little more than a sunken cavity.

How strong did someone have to be for three stab wounds to look like a hundred?

Hancock shook his head mournfully. Then he looked towards Nora and stepped over the corpse as if he'd forgotten about it already, as if he hadn't just killed the man, as if Fin wasn't just murdered in the middle of the street — and, to Nora's surprise, none of the townsfolk even cared, and hardly anyone seemed interested in the scene before them.

"You alright, love?" Hancock asked, extending a bloody hand for her to take. A hand that was just as marred and pocked as the rest of his skin.

Nora flinched back, leaning away from him, her shoulder throbbing as her elbows propped her upright upon the ground.

"Ah, not so friendly with ghouls, eh?" Smile thinning, he retracted his hand and gestured to his face, "Like it? I think it gives me a sexy king of the zombies look, yeah? Big hit for some folk. Now, there's a lot of us walking rad freaks around here, so you might want to keep those kinds of reactions on the low burner next time."

Staring up at him like he was crazy, glad for the gasmask to hide her expression for fear she'd be stabbed next, Nora stammered, "Y-you think I... You think I care—" She gulped thickly, unable to find her voice for a long moment, shaking her head. Blood ran down the side of her mask, dripping onto her jumpsuit, staining it further. "You just killed that guy less than a foot away from me. I'm not too concerned about your face, given the circumstances."

He grinned, actually grinned. "Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people. You feel me? Everyone's welcome."

Nora's gaze drifted down to the dead body that this so-called mayor had so casually abandoned. "Of the people, for the people... oh, brother..."

Hancock laughed, kneeling next to her and extending his hand once again for her to take. "Oh, I can tell I'm gonna like you already. Just consider this to be your home away from home. So long as you remember who's in charge, kapeesh?"

Blinking up at him, she didn't really know how to respond. Her entire body was sending alarms up: what the fuck, oh fuck, what the fuck, who the fuck, why the fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Through her fear, Nora recognized this man to be someone important. The coat and name felt like a title more than an endearing play on history, and from the way Fin spoke to him...

Hesitating briefly, she took Hancock's hand and let him help her to her feet, wincing as her shoulder pulled again.

Once rightened, Hancock slid a forefinger and thumb through a lock of Nora's greasy black hair, gently pinching and pulling, removing a clot of blood from the dark curls.

Without further ceremony, the ghoulish mayor led Nora over the dead body and towards the tall brownstone building, where a heavily armored redheaded woman stood cross-armed against the brick, enveloped in shadow.

"This here's Fahrenheit." Hancock introduced, and the woman gave a single sharp nod. "She's the one you go to if anyone like Fin comes back around, alright?"

Nora nodded slowly.

Fahrenheit turned back to the body on the street and frowned. "Too bad about Fin. I'm gonna miss him the next time a super mutant attack comes around."

Hancock gave another good-natured laugh, turning back to Nora. "What brings you to Goodneighbor, sweetheart? Anything I can do for ya?"

Nora kind of felt like bursting into tears. She fought for words, "I'm... I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. Nick Valentine."

Hancock's grin widened with glee. "So you're the one Nicky told me about. Hm... He painted a different picture than the one I see."

Having no idea what that meant, Nora took the safe route and stayed silent.

The mayor gestured towards the door to the brownstone, "He's inside, up in my office. If what he said is true... I wanna hear your story."

[elvendorx]

Hi 👋🏼

So I saw your post about Harry’s patronus the other day and it got me thinking.

It reminded me how odd it always seemed to me that we’re told Harry’s deepest nature is like his mothers yet for most of the series he’s constantly being compared back to James. (They even share a patronus which the shape of is suppose to be a reflection of who you are.) It’s always how he does xyz like James, he’s as good as James at this or that, or the “ no I think your like James...”, we get the singular “less like James than I thought…” to make a distinction (but you could argue that James also wouldn’t want to put Sirius at risk. I firmly believe Sirius getting hurt is a line James won’t cross. Cause you know✨soulmate things✨). 

Like we get that he has Lily’s eyes, and that she was an “uncommonly kind witch” which pared with the deepest nature remark could be used to imply Harry is incredibly kind but I wouldn’t go as far as to call him uncommonly kind. In SWM we see more from her. Like her temper, desire to stand up for people which we could say Harry shares (James also shares a want to fight for what’s right but that a bit more complex with him) and she also fights backs a smile. Like it always bugged that we’re told this about his deepest nature yet the narrative never really backs it up I guess? Like we never hear about their similarities again outside of the green eyes. I get that Sirius and Remus are primarily James’ friends but they knew Lily. Sirius at least had a close relationship with ( her letter to him) the teachers at Hogwarts knew her, but we get a few lines about their deepest natures, their green eyes, a bit from Sluggy, and that’s like it? Which is just so strange to me. Like what? The whole idea of his deepest nature being like Lily’s hold no real weight narratively to me because nobody creates it. We’re told it and are just suppose to accept this and move on like it really means something when we’re never really give any reason as to what it means or why we should really care I guess? It bugs me how he’s suppose to be like his mother but hear about her so little in conjunction to her son.

I will mention that in Celtic mythology the stag is the “king of the forest and protector of all its creatures” (idk if jkr used that as inspo) and with James’ animagus form and patronus taking the shape of a stag it implies the stag is a real reflection of who he is as a person. Them having the same patronus puts Harry in line again with his father again opposed to his mother. It’s just something that has never made sense to me. It’s like we’re being told two different things at once. It’s like we’re supposed to believe one thing while being told/shown another.

It’s all very strange to me. I apologize if this makes zero sense. It ended up wayyy longer than I intended but I’m a big fan of your blog and you write so well about HP (especially my love j/s) that I felt compelled to share this since I never have before. I don’t really have anyone to share it with so again I apologize if this is just a bit too out of left field and an incoherent mess. It’s just some thoughts. Feel free to ignore it. ❤️💛

Hey! First of all, no way am I ignoring this, it’s such a thoughtful and insightful message, thank you, and I have to reply (even if it’s taken me a while) <3 I completely agree, there are sooo many contradictions when it comes to Lily and James and Harry and the patronus. This is the issue I have with Harry’s Patronus as well - it’s so unnecessarily gendered even though it’s inconsistent with 1. what we’re told about Harry’s character in this instance and 2. the precedence established by Snape’s Patronus, Tonks’ patronus etc. But it’s just bad writing and I’m more than happy to call JKR out for that lmao. I think within the narrative we’re probably supposed to see aspects of both James and Lily in Harry by the end of the series, but Lily can feel like such a stock figure that it’s not completely clear, and there’s still a sway towards James because we hear from his friends about him, as you say, and James’ best friend plays a significant role in Harry’s life, etc, whereas the closest we see of Lily’s friends in Harry’s life is Snape being his teacher and hating him lol. 

It’s actually really sad that Sirius and Remus don’t mention Lily because we’re supposed to believe from the letter that Sirius and Lily had enough of a standalone friendship to communicate with each other. Probably it would be explained as there was just too much going on with the second war so Lily never came up, it was painful for Sirius maybe, but I do just think JKR hadn’t thought that far ahead and came up with the letter post-OotP. Harry also doesn’t seem to think much about Lily until he witnesses Snape’s memory. He hears her scream in PoA and he sees her come out of Voldemort’s wand in GoF but Lily is very much Mother and James is fleshed out more with Quidditch, the Animagus thing, Sirius, Remus. JKR does that with female characters, makes them mothers and only mothers, whether they had more defining attributes before that or not (there’s nothing wrong with being a mother but the older/non-mothers are outliers in the series which is something I find personally uncomfortable). 

And I think a lot of the blank space around Lily can be put down to how bad JKR is at writing women and female friendships. I can only really think of Hermione and Ginny as a positive one, and I feel like the tone around Cho/Marietta and Parvarti/Lavender is supposed to make them come across as a bit silly (I haven’t read the full series for a while so that’s just an impression I remember from…years and years ago). BUT also James is shoved at Harry from when he starts Hogwarts, Petunia wasn’t someone Harry could talk to about Lily and so perhaps he detached from her a bit or she just took a back seat because information about her was less accessible (but we also don’t really see Harry try). I don’t know if I believe that was deliberate for the Snape/Lily friendship reveal or not.

I totally agree that Harry doesn’t read as especially kind either - maybe merciful, re: Wormtail and Snape, like Lily sacrificing herself for him and that maybe is supposed to signal their shared innate goodness as I feel like Lily’s sacrifice is one of the things that is routinely repeated about her through the series. Lily’s temper is also one of the consistent things we see in both SWM and The Prince’s Tale, but I love that connection of James and Lily’s quickness to fight, especially as we know from the prophecy that they defied Dumbledore thrice.

I actually think it’s in James and Lily’s similarities that Lily’s attributes get lost and they get emphasised as James’ traits or attributed to James when they fit with what we know about Lily much more neatly. One thing that sticks out to me  is Slughorn calling Lily “cheeky”, and I like to think that Harry’s comments like “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’, Professor” are more of a Lily than a James thing, or at least a Lily as well as a James thing. Harry’s comments can be very dry and sarcastic and we don’t get much sarcasm from James, he’s very on the nose and goofy in his humour. You also mentioned Lily’s temper, and I think we see that in Harry in OotP and we also see his cutting remarks when he’s hurt or angry - “You might even have a scar now, if you’re lucky. . . . That’s what you want, isn’t it?” to Ron vs Lily’s “I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivelly”/“You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you”, although I doubt that’s what Dumbledore meant lol. Maybe also the dissimilarities between James and Harry indicate which elements of Harry’s nature come from Lily.

Dumbledore saying that Harry’s “deepest nature” is most like Lily’s is in response to Snape saying that “he is his father over again”. But Harry is never shown to be popular or arrogant or spoiled or cruel in the ways that James is - which are the ways that Snape means and I think it’s important to recognise that Snape talking about Harry being like James and the ways that the reader sees that Harry is actually like James are quite different. There’s also quite a distinction between the point that Snape talks about (Harry = arrogant bully) vs the point that Dumbledore is talking about (Harry’s deepest, innermost parts of his soul are like Lily) - so maybe his “deepest nature” isn’t actually the Harry we see often but the Harry that we see in those critical moments. I also think it's probably a tactic on Dumbledore’s part to get Snape to see Harry objectively  and he knows that suggesting Snape will recognise parts of Lily in Harry is likely to get him to at least try to find those attributes.

Harry discovering that James wasn’t perfect, and was more like Dudley/Draco, is an important moment for him, especially when it comes shortly before Sirius’ death. It’s this moment of him coming to terms with the realisation that he has to be responsible for his own character, make his own choices rather than trying to emulate his parents, that he can’t rely on their reputation because their reputation isn’t universally positive (in James’ case). And while even then we don’t get much more of Lily, or a deeper interest in Lily which I think could have been very interesting, I think that the qualities we see Harry taking on from OotP onwards are probably those that liken his deeper nature to Lily’s. Harry doesn’t correlate distinctly or completely with what we see of either Lily or James in the series, but that’s not a lot. In fact in HBP Harry seems to seek alternate parental figures in Dumbledore and the Prince in the absence of Sirius and maybe the slight disillusionment from James (I don’t think this is all-encompassing by any means but I think it would be especially difficult for Harry to confront in the aftermath of Sirius’ death when James and Sirius are so closely aligned).

I love the stuff about the stag, and it makes me a bit :( because James clearly does make himself this protective presence in his friends’ lives but he’s also 21 himself so I struggle to see him as this full-blown patriarch (even though that’s his role in the series), much like it’s hard to see Lily as this homely Molly-Weasley-to-be because she’s also only 21! Interestingly the name ‘James’ means supplanter/substitute and we know that JKR does pay attention to names somewhat and it seems that in a lot of cases James is like substitute/second family for his friends/Lily. But I think probably calling him James rather than a wizard name was just to show that he had a normal, comfortable upbringing.

And before I can find another point to witter on about, I’ll finish by mentioning the great point that casquecest replied to the original post with, that Harry’s Patronus changed after he adjusted his view of James to be more realistic. I like this idea of Harry coming into himself more post-war and his Patronus changing to reflect that, maybe he doesn’t feel like he has to be a leader or protector anymore.

Ty again for this thoughtful message! <3

[twinklelilstarkey]

can i request an fluffy rafe imagine where he and reader break up (drugs) so sarah makes a girls night bc y/n it’s really sad and then rafe apologizes to her and they back together? omg i think it’s a little confuse..

A/N: Not confusing at all babe. I really like what you requested! Hope you enjoy it! — I’m sorry for not making it as fluffy as you probably wanted me too ❤️

Get help - Rafe Cameron

Words: 2.9k

Type: Angst & Fluff

Warnings: I- This is wayyy more sad that I intended it to be. Sorry? (Mentions of drug addiction and rehabilitation clinics, swearing... and I think that’s it)

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

It’s been a week since you last saw him and it still hurt. You miss him so much and it has become harder and harder to ignore these feelings. You have tried making yourself believe that this happened for the best of the two of you but it’s slowly getting tougher to swallow.

You and Rafe had been dating for years before that night happened, it still hurt to think of him.

You believe you’ve cried everything you could. Your body is now completely dehydrated and no tears are being created. In which you can’t help but thank with your now zombie-like mood.

“I’m going to get us a coffee, do you want anything else?” Sarah, your best friend, who is sitting next to you, asks.

You shake your head and she gives you a small smile. You stare back at the screen of your laptop, in hopes to finish what you were previously doing for school, and try to ignore all the sound around you.

You whisper the words you were reading to yourself, trying to make them make sense, but your peaceful silence is broken by a group of guys walking in the café. You sigh annoyed while staring at the screen, wanting to throw something at their loud mouths. But decide otherwise.

“Hey, Sarah. Haven’t seen you in a while” One of the guy says and you lift your eyes to where Sarah is standing.

Sarah smiles at Topper and starts a conversation as soon as she does it. You look away from them and look at the other person standing beside him, Rafe. He’s looking around himself, eyeing the inside of the café that he has never seen before. 

You force yourself to look away and lean back on the couch that you’re siting, trying to pay attention to something else other than him as your chest gets heavier and heavier by each second that passes.

Sarah says a little goodbye to Topper and ignores her brother’s presence before walking towards you. Rafe fakes trying to trip Sarah and she sends him a glare, which just made all the boys laugh. 

His eyes follow his sister and his smile falls at the sight of you staring at the screen of your laptop. You look up at Sarah as she hands you your drink and laugh at something she says.

He pleads, in his mind, for you to look up at him but you don’t do it. You’re too distracted with whatever his sister is saying to you. And only God knows that might be.

“Yo, Rafe. Can you please come back to Earth for a second?” Topper asks, making his best friend snap out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, what, sorry?”

(...)

“I promise it will be cool” Sarah insists, “We can spend the night watching movies and eating junk food”

“How is going to my ex boyfriend’s house going to help me move on or even feel better?” You ask as she lays comfortably in your bed.

“He’s never home at Friday’s!” She exclaims, “We’ll have the house to ourselves the whole night. It’s way better than staying here, where you need to have your door open because of your parents... Seriously, when are they going to trust you enough to close the door?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“Ah! Made you laugh!”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to your book.

“Now, can you please agree on coming over to my house? It will be so cool, I already have so many movies in mind. Oh! And soooo many snacks”

You think for a few seconds in silence.

“Please” She whispers into the air, looking at the ceiling, “You will have so much fuuun”

As Sarah is done singing her words, a smile fills your lips again and you sigh.

“Fine. But just tonight”

(...)

If Sarah could describe out loud what she’s feeling, she would have to do a whole essay. Because...

Why the fuck is Rafe still home at this time of day? Isn’t he supposed to be in a party?

The thing is, you’re almost getting to her house. Just like you had planned. There’s snacks on top of Sarah’s bed, the chosen movie is already paused at her bedroom tv and the pizza is also on its way.

Her 19 year old brother is the one fucking it all up. 

You’re supposed to come into her home to forget about him, and be calm and relaxed. And now, she feels like wherever she looks, Rafe’s there.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at a party today?” Sarah finally asks.

Rafe looks up from his phone, still leaning back on the kitchen counter, not even knowing that she had been glaring at him this whole time.

“Yeah, but I decided not to go” He answers with a shrug.

“Won’t that make you a bad friend?”

She’s using every play in the book now. She needs him gone for at least the whole night.

Rafe chuckles at his sister’s words and looks at her confused.

“No?”

Sarah sighs and walks over to the fridge when listening to his answer. Rafe follows her with his eyes as she fills a cup with water and curiosity takes over him.

“Why?”

“No reason”

“Bullshit”

Sarah rolls her eyes at his stubbornness and looks back before staring back at him.

“I wanted the whole house for myself and my friend, is that too much to ask?”

Rafe laughs.

“Since when am I such a bother to your little sleepovers? You never leave your room anyway”

Sarah opens her mouth to answer but the ringing of the doorbell stops her from doing so. Rafe lifts his eyebrows as if in surprise when seeing her reaction and lowers his eyes back to his phone.

Sarah glares at her brother when noticing that he isn’t planning on leaving the kitchen any soon and turns on her heels to go to the front door. 

As she walks closer to the door, she smiles at you through the glass and opens it.

“Hi!” She says excitingly, “Are you ready for the night of your life?”

You smile at her, “Sure”.

Sarah steps to the side to let you in the house, and you wait for her to start walking towards her room so you can follow her.

As you pass the kitchen doorway, you can’t help but look inside. You’re used to looking in and seeing Rose doing something, but this time, it isn’t Rose. It’s Rafe.

Air gets caught in your throat and you look away as quickly as you can. Rafe stays on his phone innocently, not even acknowledging who just came into his house.

Should you say something to Sarah? Does she not know that he’s in the house too?

You and Sarah get to her room rather quickly and she closes the door right behind you two as you walk in.

She’s quick to lay in her bed and open the covers for you, and you can’t help but grin at her as she opens one bag of chips right away.

“You ready?” She asks before pressing the play and you nod, “Let’s go”

Sarah presses the play and the sound of the universal studios entrance fills the silent room. You bring the covers closer to you and Sarah hands you the bag of chips just so you can take some of them.

And...

Not even halfway through the movie, Sarah highly regrets watching the movie while laying down because she’s out like a light.

You stare at the TV in silence, grinning slightly at Sarah’s slight snores as the main characters talk about their feelings in the TV.

But your mind is occupied with something else. You’re not paying much attention to the movie anymore. The plot stopped being of your interested when you noticed that Sarah had chosen the movie purely because of the cast.

Understandable, we’ve all done it. But romance movies are not a good choice when you’re trying to forget your failed relationship.

Already tired with your thoughts, you stand on your feet, away from the bed and drag yourself out of the bedroom.

Rafe must be in his party, now, since that was what Sarah said when you questioned his presence in the kitchen.

You walk down the stairs of the empty and silent house and drag your warm feet over the cold ground towards the kitchen.

As you grab a cup from the shelf above you, you almost groan at all the memories that hit you at once.

All the times that you and Rafe made breakfast on his days off classes, eating cheap fluffy pancakes until you felt sick with just the idea of drinking water. Or when you helped him through a big hangover after a big party.

The second memory hits you like a tone of bricks. 

Those mornings and the nights before, after the parties, were the reason of your breakup. You couldn’t stand to see Rafe kill himself with all the alcohol almost every night and the various drugs that his friends could get a hold of each month.

You walk towards the fridge, chest heavy with heartbreak, and fill your cup with cold water. The feeling of the freezing temperature over your fingertips wakes you up back to reality.

You hear steps in the hallway, right outside of the kitchen, and you don’t think much of it as it might be Sarah.

The door swings open and your eyes widen slightly at the sight of Rafe. His hair a complete mess, his eyes hold a sleepless look, and his clothes are slightly scrunched up. He looks like he’s had a rough night.

You don’t say anything, looking away as he looks at you. He clears his throat as if to fill the silence in the air and walks towards the shelf, grabbing a glass cup. 

He didn’t know you were the one sleeping over.

He doesn’t look at you or says anything. 

You can’t help but think in all this silence how much you want to run home, right now. You love Sarah but you can’t stay here any longer.

Your feet don’t move from under you and you’re left to stare at the floor as Rafe fills his cup with water as well. 

Both of you silent, fearing to break the peaceful absence of sound as your minds fill with all the good memories and the possible beginnings of conversation.

You finish your water and walk towards the sink to leave the cup beside it. Rafe’s eyes stay on you as you do it, but you don’t care to look up before walking out of the kitchen.

“Shit” Rafe whispers to himself as he hears your footsteps getting further away from the doorway.

You walk in the living room, not wanting to go back to bed, and make your way towards the glass sliding doors that lead to the porch.

The warm air of the last summer night hits you and you walk out, leaving the door slightly open. You walk towards the railing of the porch and lean against it, watching the calm waters under the dim lighting coming from the house.

You sigh as you rest your cheek over your fist and close your eyes to try and concentrate on your breathing other than your feelings.

The door behind you slides slightly but you don’t care to look back to see who it is. But that is until, it slides closed and someone stands right beside you.

“I wanted to talk to you” Rafe says.

You take a quick look at him before staring away into the grass of the garden right in front of you.

“About?” You ask in a whisper as he doesn’t say anything else.

“I don’t know” He answers with a shrug and you frown in confusion, “I just wanted to talk to you”

He really likes making everything worse for you, uh?

“We’re not supposed to be in talking terms,” You answer, “Not after our last conversation”

“I know”

You look down at your hands and play with your fingers as a way to fight out your emotions.

“I’ve- Uhm...” Rafe starts but pauses. You look up at him and see him scratching the back of his neck while staring at the ground.

“You’ve what?” You encourage.

“I’ve been clean for a week” He admits and looks down at you.

You look away and do a very small smile, rather fake, while staring at the grass once again.

“Hope it lasts” You say before biting your cheek.

“Me too”

Silence, again.

“I’m... I’m sorry for not listening to you before. About the addiction, I mean.”

You don’t say anything.

“You were right, and I was too stupid to not want to listen to you” He continues, “I’m sorry”

You look up to find him still staring. His gaze softens at the sight of you finally looking back and you give him a slight grin.

“You don’t need to say sorry. I’m sure it’s not something easy to swallow, to hear someone say that you’re addicted to something”

Rafe observes your expression twitch slightly at the mention of his addiction and his chest tightens at your saddened gaze as you sigh.

“I did it to myself” He admits with a shrug, “Just didn’t expect these many consequences to come from it”

“Like?”

The look he gives you is a good enough answer. You look away with that and he tenses up next to you.

He just screwed everything up, didn’t he?

“It happens, Rafe” You whisper, “At least it was able to motivate you into changing”

“Yeah... It was” He agrees, “I just- you know, feel like this could’ve been done in other ways”

“Of course, it could’ve” You answer bringing your shoulder up as if you’re shrugging, “This is just where our argument took us”

Rafe can’t help but disagree. It wasn’t the ‘argument’s fault’, it’s his. His words. His sick and disgustingly affected by whatever he took, words.

“Will you ever forgive me?” He blurs out, catching both you and himself by surprise.

“Forgive you?” You ask confused, “I’m not even mad at you”

“You’re not?”

“No” You say with a frown, shaking your head slightly, “I’m mad at myself more than I am at you. I could’ve helped you before you became addicted, and I-”

“You know it isn’t your fault that I’m the fuck-up that I am, right?” He asks you and you glare at him.

“Don’t call yourself that” You say, “We’ve been over this, Rafe.”

“It’s true” He says with a slightly annoyed tone, “I fuck up everything, I’m just-”

“Shut up”

He falls silent, not wanting to ruin anything further.

“You’re not a fuck up” You say, annoyed that he could even think that, “Don’t let your mistakes fucking define you, Rafe. We’ve talked about this. You’ve fucked up, yes. But who hasn’t?” You pause so that the words can sink in, “Sarah has fucked up, I’ve fucked up. Your own dad has fucked up before... I didn’t break up with you because of your mistakes”

He looks at you confused.

“I’ve broken up with you because I couldn’t bear to see you kill yourself any further while everyone fucking stared and did a whole bunch of nothing” Tears swell up in your arms, “And that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve taken your mind off your drugs to just think about what you can lose with them”

You sniffle and look away, not wanting him to see you cry.

“It was my selfish way to make you wake up, want to try and get help-” You say with your voice shaking, but he interrupts you.

“Hey” He says, “It wasn’t selfish”

“I-”

“No, you’re going to hear me, now” He interrupts, “How can you say that what you did was selfish when you were trying to help me? That makes no sense! I’m not getting help yet, but if that’s what you want me to do, I’ll call my dad right fucking now and I’ll go to a clinic tomorrow”

“Rafe” You start, turning back to look at him.

“I know I’m supposed to do this for myself and not anyone else, but fuck. I’ve been dating you for years. I love you more than I’ll ever love myself. I can’t lose you. Not over something that I did”

A sob escapes your mouth and you cover it with your hand. Rafe, with that, pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you.

“Just please, give me another chance” He whispers into your hair, “This time, I’ll get all the help I need. I won’t ever push you away, or put anything before me and you”

You wrap your arms tightly around his torso and sniffle into his chest.

“Okay” You whisper, “But you have to promise me that you’ll get the help as soon as possible”

You look up at him, still hugging him, and he looks down at you.

“I promise”

A faint smiles is drawn over your lips and Rafe presses a kiss onto your wet cheek, pulling you back into the tight hug.

“I’ll call my dad tomorrow” He whispers.

“And I’ll be there with you” You whisper back.

- - - - - - -

I honestly almost cried while correcting this. Am I the only one?

[amphtaminedreams]

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot (Part 2)

Hey to anyone reading,

I’m so sorry for the gap between the last fashion week review post and this one! Argh. I had no idea I posted it as long ago as the beginning of March but I think we can all agree that lockdown has fucked with our perceptions of time completely. I wish I could say the delay in posting was as simple as me being busy but I’ve also started to reflect on whether or not I want to carry on this format of posts for the time being; on the scale of problems, this one is wayyy down there in the very lower quartile of the first world region, but my motivation to carry on this kind of content in the form of long-winded text posts is...meh...not so much there anymore. At first I was thinking the issue was that working on these was my last priority on my daily to-do lists but as I’ve got back into writing fiction, it’s kind of occurred to me that the fact I was putting these posts on my to-do lists in the first place along with things like doing the ironing and contacting student finance speaks volumes. When I’m back from work or winding down, opening up Tumblr and coming back to this draft isn’t something that I think of as a fun stress reliever in the way drafting stories is. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my imagination or my creativity or expressing myself in any way and it’s not much of an escape from day to day life in the way that writing dialogue or exploring characters is. Maybe it’s because I’ve done quite a few of these posts now but I just tend to feel like I’m repeating myself, you know kinda like when you’re writing an essay and trying to fill up a word count; of course there are collections that I do have a lot of opinions on but by and large, sometimes it boils down to THESE CLOTHES ARE JUST FUCKING PRETTY, OKAY?! There’s only so many things you can say about a tulle skirt or an exaggerated collar before you want to strangle yourself with said tulle. I used to think iF VoGUe RuNwaY wRitErs CaN dO iT WhAT's MY exCusE until I realised that 1). Vogue Runway writers actually get paid and 2). for the most part all they do is explain the designer's intentions behind the collections verbatim without giving a critical opinion anyway.

I think a lot of the pressure I feel to justify what are in reality quite simple observations and opinions goes back to some of the feelings I explained in my first ever fashion week review where people who know more about fashion and have a formal education in the subject tend to be kind of gatekeep-y and elitist. It can never be that you appreciate different things about a collection but rather than one of you has taste and the other doesn’t and if it wasn’t obvious, the taste level assigned to you by the powers that be tend to positively correlate with the amount of money you have available to spend on a degree that has a reputation for failing to provide a steady income, which for most makes it an unrealistic avenue to pursue. I know, I know, the pressure is totally self-inflicted and wholly imagined seeing as I have under 500 followers on here and those who do interact with these posts most likely do so for the pictures but I still feel it, and given that I’m going to have enough external pressure to write essays when I return to uni in September, why on earth am I wasting time putting it on myself? When just posting photosets of my favourite looks is not only actually enjoyable for me but is also what other people WANT to see too? Nobody wants to read a self-indulgent paragraph like this when they’re here for the clothes and to be honest, for the most part I don’t want to write them anyway unless it’s something I have strong feelings about or if a collection can only be properly appreciated with analysis. I think I’ve made pretty clear which designers I’m a fan of, do you really need to hear me raving about Gucci or Zimmerman or Miu Miu or Balenciaga again? Is there gonna be anything revolutionary in yet another rant about Maria Grazia? Course not. I mean, if you are reading, you might have to witness those things one last time because I do intend to finish off this season’s review in this format for consistency purposes and because I’ve already got all the notes now but on the whole, I doubt anyone will miss my rambles.

So, with all that in mind, I think after I finish my S/S21 posts I am gonna start just uploading these posts without the written part. I mean, for one, the simplicity of doing this means I’m much less likely to procrastinate making them which in turn means I’ll be able to get them out right after the shows as a kind of summary as opposed to months later when they’re no longer as relevant. This will also give me more time to work on the writing I actually enjoy. Right now I’m going through and editing my 17 year old self’s “grown-up” take on the Pretty Little Liars blackmail murder mystery style plot line which I wrote back when I was completely and utterly obsessed with the show and bitterly disappointed by the last couple of seasons. The writing is pretty mediocre and often hugely cringey to read back now but I am still a fan of the basic plot and I’m genuinely motivated to see if I can make it something actually worth reading, and to get onto that ASAP; this feels especially important right now given that the HBO version of the series’ apparent upcoming release has sent that ever-present writer’s fear of seeing-your-same-storyline-done-better-by-somebody-else-thus-forever-relegating-your-version-to-being-the-poor-imitation-so-you-gotta-get-there-first into overdrive (or maybe that’s just me and my neuroses). Again, it’s a totally unfounded fear based on the fact that the HBO show will probs get millions of viewers whilst I will be doing little more than shouting into the void but anybody who’s used Turnitin to submit an essay that ultimately counts for little more than like 1% of your grade or degree will know that no matter how irrelevant your work is, the concept of failing a plagiarism check, be it via a computer algorithm or one random stranger on the internet’s assessment, is enough to conjure visions of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse galloping towards you screaming “START THE WHOLE THING AGAIN” before releasing a hoarde of 2015 Chanel vs. Walmart style comparison memes.

Now, speaking of Chanel, I should probably get back into the reviewing. 

So for the last time for a little while, here’s Christian Siriano:

Siriano’s designs are a great example of work I feel guilty enjoying. I know that when it comes to quality, the high fashion community have a lot of (negative) things to say and I really can’t speak to that because quite honestly, I know very little about textile manufacturing. Solely from my own point of view though, I do like his work a lot. I wouldn’t claim for a minute that he’s a pioneer in terms of his creations but I would 100% love to wear them and I DO hugely admire his commitment to putting women of all sizes on the runway and designing pieces that don’t simply cater to straight up and down types which is more than can be said for most brands. I get that his collections are pretty formulaic, taking what has worked for the likes of Chanel and Alessandra Rich, De La Renta and Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors too (who is kind of guilty of the same thing himself), but that’s not to say his work is bad. Let’s be real, we’ve been on this planet thousands of years, we’re all taking inspiration from someone, and maybe figures like Kors and Siriano could wait a *little* longer before taking said inspiration but their aim at the end of the day is to sell clothes, not break barriers, a task which although often left to the big name brands, they too often fail at. I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling this whimsical mid-century tea party vibe, it’s elegant and it’s cutesy and My Fair Lady-esque, and you bet your arse I would be absolutely thrilled to wear one of these looks on a summer red carpet. I just can’t say no to anything tulle-maybe it’s that I was on Toddlers & Tiaras in a past life or maybe it’s that I watched too many Barbie Princess films growing up, but I like pretty much everything going on here, especially Siriano is giving us matching fedoras too. Plus, can we take a moment to praise Siriano for his COVID relief efforts? Near the beginning of the pandemic, he turned his studio into a mask manufacturing factory in order to send them out as donations, and I think that is very cool.

Then there’s Christopher Kane who once again came through with the most insanely gorgeous prints:

I mean, paint splattering is hardly a new technique but I haven’t seen it done as a print so tastefully before-it eats the Moschino biro scribble print (which apparently was copied too speaking of the tendencies of designers to “borrow” inspiration) for breakfast. It’s shit because there weren’t many looks in this collection and they weren’t really shot in a way that does them any justice but I thought I’d include the few I saved.

Comme Des Garcons is a fave of the high fashion community and one I look forward to seeing at fashion week but can never quite get behind. I appreciate the what-the-fuckery of it all with this show totally being able to pass as a run-through of some kind of nuclear waste themed scare house at one of Thorpe Park’s fright nights. I assume given that and the plastic Mickey Mouse print it’s supposed to be some kind of reference to the part late-stage capitalism has played in the hellish landscape we find ourselves in today? Or something all intellectual? In which case I made my interpretation with farrrr too much confidence. But Anyway! Who knows! I’ll leave the analysis to the fashion students, and give it one word: trippy.

Onto Dion Lee, a brand I truly do get excited to talk about because it’s rare that I don’t LOVE his work.

Without fail, Lee manages to be confidently ahead of the curve without going out of his way to announce it and his genius to everyone with flamboyant shows and exaggerated designs and extortionate prices. He is very much an underdog in the fashion world in terms of big names but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love his collections. His S/S21 collection is one of my favourites of the bunch. I love seeing something I’ve never seen before and the palm leaf breast plate is so odd but so cool and so perfectly Dion Lee at the same time; we’ve seen jungle/tropical inspired collections sooo many times *cough cough D&G cough cough* and THIS is how you make them fresh and unique. I mean, never in a million years did I think I’d get behind the resurgence of the gladiator sandal trend but Lee has me changing my mind. This is one of the very rare times you will ever see me using this meme to praise a man but:

I mean, he has Fernanda Ly modelling for him, that the man has taste goes without saying.

Now for a bit of a full circle moment, given that I did actually praise Dior’s haute couture collection in my first ever post; Maria Grazia did GOOD. Well, with haute couture at least.

She’s always pretty hamfisted with her references, there’s no denying, with that Grecian Goddess style RTW collection typifying that statement completely, but luckily she struck gold this time round; as someone who studied the Tudors for A-level history, seeing a modern take on the exaggeratedly feminine renaissance silhouettes with the baroque prints and the deep jewell tones got me super excited especially when you throw in the dreamy tarot theming and the nods to the mystical and arcane. Seeing as the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala (I know, I know, I need to move on) was some time ago now and Cersei Lannister’s *SPOILER* been crushed by a rock (could also be seen as a metaphor for the irrelevancy David Benioff and D.B Wise condemned GoT to when they aired that shitty ending tehe) and so probably won’t be getting a collection based on her costumes any time soon, this is the only fashion take on this kind of period dress I’m going to get…and you know what? I’m okay with that. Thanks Maria, I guess?

Her RTW collection wasn’t absolutely awful either, and slightly better than the past few collections at least. Put a monkey in a room with a typewriter (or show it enough similar well-received collections) and it will eventually write something that makes sense, don’t they say? I like the nomadic feel of a lot of the looks and there’s beautiful layering going on but the aura of exotic opulence unsurprisingly didn’t stick around for long and I found that there was a decline in quality in the midsection of the show that landed a lot of the outfits in either awkward mother of the bride at a beach wedding or The Only Way is Essex Ocean Beach PLT sponsored poolside party territory. The looks picked back up a bit towards the end stretch of the show but I wasn’t a fan of the Gucci style oversized glasses which were so out of place with the rest of the theming that if anything they seemed like a cheap grab at relevancy. So yeah, a middling, subpar Etro-esque collection which is better than usual for Dior I suppose.

Next, Elie Saab, whose S/S21 collection was kinda disappointing, tbh. Oh how the turns have tabled given that positive Dior review and my usual love of Saab’s collections.

I know his dresses lose some of their appeal when we can’t see them in motion but even ON the runway I can’t see myself being dazzled by any of these pieces the way I usually am. They’re lacking the level of detail and craftsmanship I associate with the brand seemingly in favour of block colours and suits and the issue is that the whole Disney Princess fantasy has always been the appeal for me because the silhouettes aren’t interesting enough on their own. They’re not ugly pieces, they’re nice, but does nice really have a place in high fashion when the pieces are so basic in both their design and presentation that the shots could pass as ripped from a catalogue? The strongest parts of the collection were when it did go down the more delicate route with the muted blue suits and the white feather trimmed dresses, the small, ornamental gold details reminding me of a very toned down nod to Schiaparelli’s hardware, but with regards to the bright coloured pieces, I can’t lie-they did look like something you could find in the M&S Per Una holiday section. Then you’ve got the weakest parts, which were just flat out ugly: sheer giraffe print, sweat band style elasticated waits, and long chiffon shirts that I hate to admit read as frumpy. There are times where I’ve not been particularly excited by an Elie Saab collection in the past, but I do think this is the first time I’ve actively disliked parts of it.

Conversely, Erdem’s S/S21 collection was super strong, and solidified the brand’s place in my mind as a dependable source of kooky maximalism, this time round giving us  Anya Taylor Joy’s Emma wardrobe on speed. You could tell me Erdem Moralıoğlu had just raided the Bridgerton set’s fitting rooms and put it on a runway and I would 100% believe you and I mean that in a positive way because to give my unpopular opinion, the clothes were the only good thing about that show. The endearingly florid details of exaggerated bows and clashing florals were still there but this time in a way that felt more subtle and self-assured, as if the calming influence of the wooded set’d had a direct hand in the designs, giving the rugged, ethereal feel to the collection I associate with brands like Brock and Simone Rocha, all whilst keeping the parts of Erdem I’m so fond of.

Is it really much of a shock that I included pretty much every look from the Etro S/S21 show?  Like, you know that Christian idea of God, like, (the voice in my head is very much taking on the dumb valley girl voice that anybody who reads this is most probably getting too) knowing our souls? I think Veronica Etro knows mine. So no, no surprise. Though there were a few unconventional touches thrown into these looks (the campier prints and nautical theming we see with the 80s beach towel print, for example, reminded me a bit of Versace) the mystical bohemian it girl that Etro designs for would still be highly satisfied. Sure, it might be a wardrobe fit for a holiday less adventurous than backpacking but if she wanted a tropical poolside holiday, this collection is the one, the paisley print chiffon mini and maxi dresses especially. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t see the monstrosity that is leggings worn as trousers-it’s a fashion rule I refuse to abandon-because they are the only stain on an otherwise expectedly gorgeous collection.

Next, an unusually reserved RTW collection from Fendi:

More in line with the wardrobe of a European fashion editor than the glamorous trophy wife (who let’s say uses that facade as a guise to ruthlessly run her husband’s whole business empire from behind the scenes because in this house we do complex female characters only), these pieces are lot “smarter” and more professional looking than Fendi’s typical offerings; where I feel Fendi usually designs for the society girl who wouldn’t mind a front page scandal, these are the kind of outfits a young member of Monaco’s royal family would wear for a positively received but business-as-usual press tour. I know, Fendi is an Italian brand, but this is more Southern France to me. We’re talking some 2nd page shots of a Kate Middleton type on a yacht on the Riviera smiling and waving as her PR team’s ideal scenario. Still, whilst fewer exaggerated silhouettes, animal prints and overtly luxurious fabrics (real leathers, silks and furs for example) mean that the drama’s a little toned down, it’s all still very expensive looking and combines the classically feminine glamour of the past and the minimalism of modernity in the artful manner that we’re used to. Maybe it’s me being a basic bitch but I always love seeing Ashley Graham on the runway too, even if brands to tend to use her as their single token plus size model.

Kim Jones’ debut haute couture collection for Fendi, however, wasn’t a very well received one. I don’t hate it personally but I can see where the criticisms are coming from. Whilst it’s closer to the version of Fendi I’ve come to expect and there were some stunning pieces which completely encapsulated that distinctive aura of luxe and glamour, there were quite a few lazy pieces which could’ve been from any designer. I also felt the collection was a bit upstaged by what seemed to be a who’s who of the modelling world; having Bella, Cara, Kate and Naomi ALL walk in one show was a bit distracting and took the focus off the clothes completely.

Giambattista Valli’s RTW collection was gorgeous as ever; the man has undeniably mastered the art of delivering classic, objective elegance, the kind of designs I feel would make you light on your feet and smell like strawberries and cream the minute you put one on. Whilst as a brand his RTW shows are rarely trendsetting, they reliably produce a plethora of unfailingly graceful and demure pieces, as appealing to your mum and your grandma as they are to young women and little girls, and this collection is another victory lap for Valli when it comes to upholding his signature tea party and artisan cupcake making and rose garden strolling and bottomless rosé brunch appropriate aesthetic. There were a lot of outfits that were bordering on overly juvenile, with structures a little too basic to justify the amount of sequins thrown on, but when it’s good, it’s so sweet that regardless of how to formula it is, I can’t help but fall in love.

Valli’s haute couture collection was stunning too and for sure a more exciting offering than the RTW. There was of course a lot of the signature tulle but it was head-turning, over the top in a way that leant far more towards the experimental than I expected. The photos themselves are 100% believable as a some kind of Vogue behind the scenes editorial shoot on the set of live action Disney princess movie (in between takes of the climactic ball scene if you wanna get specific with the vision); if you are looking for a prettier alternative to the primary colours and disruptive shapes of a Molly Goddard collection, this is the one. It’s giving the themes of excess and abundance I associate with that of the Hunger Games Capitol but through the softer lens of a Sofia Coppola movie, and being the typical cinema loving white girl I am, I’m obviously on board with that vibe.

I did SUCH a 180 on Givency’s S/S21 collection from when I first saw it to writing a review. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, I guess simply because Givenchy has given us so many bold pieces and presentations over the last few years whereas this is more low-key. After properly considering it though as I would any other brand, I came to the conclusion that I do actually really like it. It’s still got the strange, androgynous silhouettes popping up throughout and the futuristic space-age details but with a more down-to-earth, streetwear feel, albeit a very slick, glossy spin on the trends of the rabble (that’s us guys) of course before we go believing it’s achievable. On the one hand, the devil horn accents are a touch Claire’s accessories halloween range but at the same time, done with confidence they’re kind of cool and bring something new and fun to the table in line with the dark theatre of Givenchy’s last few shows.

Now for Gucci, which for the first time I have to say, if I'm attempting objectivity, is not a standout. 

Like, can I just start by saying though the format it’s presented in is cute, it’s not ideal as a way of actually showing the collection. I get that the vintage shop bin vibe is a huge part of Gucci’s brand but polaroids make it SO hard to actually see the clothes, and that’s what we’re here for right? I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like what I see here-the clothes are gorgeous, an idyllic ode to the off-duty wardrobes of Studio 54-ers, bohemian style icons like Charlotte Rampling and young Olivia Newton-John, psychedelic rock guitarists and the inhabitants of San Fransisco’s Haight during the late 60s and early 70s, Alessandro Michele’s favourite period of reference. I can’t pretend otherwise, or act like I wouldn’t want to wear the shit out of this collection. Buut, for Gucci? It’s a little underwhelming. These are the kind of filler looks we get in a typical Gucci show to go alongside the more statement pieces, which this collection is lacking. It’s just that these are designs which usually gets people talking and these pieces don’t do that. It sucks because for most other brands this would be a stand out collection, an immersive, luscious vignette of what people tend to think of as a cultural golden era, but when you’ve had a show that involved models carrying replicas of their own decapitated heads down the runway in the last 5 years, of course something more toned down like this is gonna generate a lot of “is that it?”s.

I owe Hermes an apology. Looking back, I have disliked all their previous collections for the same reason that I now really like this one; maybe it’s in part down to the frustration of still having to whack out the winter coat on occasion in May (fuck British weather and climate change), but suddenly I really appreciate the value of some good quality, versatile outerwear. Hermes is giving us that in spades here and for that, I bow down to them. The pieces on offer are clearly well-made and genuinely practical, and through the minimalist approach manage to retain both an air of timeless sophistication whilst also being youthful and on trend. The leather tactical vest co-ord I can easily see edged up and taking centre stage on one of those insane Seoul street style slow-mo TikToks that were big a couple of months ago and there are several pieces that could tie together a grunge influenced k-style look just as well as they could exist for years on end as the wardrobe staple of a high-powered businesswoman. Designer Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s strengths really come through with the simpler looks and it’s the patterned pieces that drag down an otherwise flawless collection; I guess because the aesthetic is very minimalist, the patterns can’t be anything overly decorative but unfortunately this has a bit of a dowdy effect when you pair it with such modest silhouettes. Disregarding those elements of the collection though, it was super good.

It goes without saying that Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture collection was breathtaking; if the fashion community can agree on anything, it’s that this woman’s work is consistently awe-inspiring. She captures the wonder of the universe, the biological structures and kaleidoscopic colours we don’t even register, through fashion in a way that others can only imitate, to mesmerising, truly transcendent effect; I can only assume Van Herpen has mother nature whispering into her ear because how the hell else do you explain her ability to take the kind of microscopic organisms they show you images of in an outdated GCSE science powerpoint and make a dress that resembles one so stunning? Care to explain, Iris? Because if there is some kind of line of communication between the two of you can you please tell the bitch I’m over this weather and that I have cute summer outfits I’m waiting to wear so can she pack this torrential rain shit in? K, thanks xoxo

See it seems shady as fuck to go from IVH to Isabel Marant like this because we are talking 2 designers with totallyyyy different approaches to fashion; Iris Van Herpen is haute couture for starters whereas Marant is commercial, and that’s her thing, but unfair comparisons aside this collection is still a bit of a let down. This is considering I do usually really like Isabel Marant collections based on whether or not I’d wear the pieces, which seems a more appropriate barometer to use to come to a quality verdict. Whilst there were a few of the elegant bohemian pieces my mind goes to when it comes to her brand, the steps outside of that comfort zone didn’t pay off; graffiti print (can be cool if done with some subtlety which apart from a few exceptions was not the case here), cheap looking reflective fabric, and MC Hammer style dungarees, it seems to be an attempt to merge 80s trends with modern urban culture, and an attempt that at times verged on the disastrous. It’s good for a brand to experiment, of course, and appeal to a wider client base than usual, but when it’s bad the unfortunate take away is that the design team don’t have the chops to pull off straying from familiar territory; designers wouldn’t be showing at fashion week if this was truly the case because disregarding the influence of nepotism, fashion is an area you need real talent, perseverance and business smarts to excel in, and so it doesn’t do a team justice when they do fail.

J.W Anderson, on the other hand, really put his best foot forward this season and presented this work in a really cool way too which only added to the positives; whilst the way the shots were edited was funky af, it didn’t detract from the actual outfits, and if we are to see the same limitations when it comes to the F/W collections being released, this is something a lot of designers and editing teams should take note of. The idiosyncratic exaggerated shapes that we see as a recurring feature of Anderon’s collections were still on show but this time round with added femininity, billowing skirts and trailing jewellery that channel the stage looks of Stevie Nicks in a way that’s modern and functional and maybe even fit for the office if you were to work in a more creative industry with a chill boss. Could also work for a coven of witches who practice meditation by bonfires in the moonlight and burn the letters of men who wronged them in some Arizonian desert, so like I said, functional! Who doesn’t like versatility? The only thing I’m not too keen on is the shoes but they’re not so bad that it affects my opinion of the collection and they look comfy I guess.

Lastly, we’ve got to talk about Jacquemus, one of the most influential names in fashion at the moment. And yes, this time round, I’m doing it: I’m buying into the hype.

This collection is gorgeousss! I can see already that a lot of the recurring elements of the show are going to be big summer trends for this year (the cut outs and strappy details on the blouses are everywhere already) even though it isn’t hot enough to have collectively decided the time to start dressing for heat is upon us yet, and that’s always a good indicator of how successful the designer was in their vision and attempts to assess the needs and wants of fashion enthusiasts; whether I’m as big a fan of his work as everyone else seems to be, there’s no denying Simon Porte Jacquemus has always excelled at this practice if the buzz around him is anything to go by. It makes sense given the last year of us all being stuck in and suppressed that a lot of us are already romanticising the summer ahead, anticipating picnics and beach days and general Theresa May running through wheat fields type shenanigans galore, in spite of how dubious an assumption it is to make that British weather will allow for this; Porte Jacquemus has very much catered to this wishful thinking and the popularity of the whole escapist “cottage core” aesthetic, sexing it up a little bit with pieces that hug the body in ways only Mugler knows how whilst being lightweight and relaxed enough to look good with windswept, sandy hair and a little dose of sunburn. I’m talking enough to give you some cutesy freckles and rosy cheeks not PSA on the importance of suncream territory, guys, what is it with those of us on the gen Z/millennial cusp not taking sun damage seriously!? Why do I have to beg so many of my friends to wear it!? Does nobody else remember those photos they’d show you in PSHE in English primary schools of burnt people’s skin under UV lights? Or is that just me being weird and only having such a vivid memory of the images because teachers told us we had to wait until year 6 to see them due they to their “graphic” nature only for my gore-loving self to be extremely underwhelmed when we finally did get that lesson? They showed us a woman giving birth in year 4 for fuck’s sake. THAT was traumatising.

Back to the actual point anyway, with just a couple of negatives, the first of which being that the pieces are very similar to those feminine looks we saw dotted about the Jacquemus menswear collection from last year that were all over fashion Twitter. In Simon Porte Jacquemus’ defence though, it makes sense that those tones and silhouettes would be revisited in a full womenswear collection for that very reason; considering they went down so well and that lockdown gave us a bit of a half-baked summer in 2020, expanding on those elements enough for a whole new collection makes good business sense. We did get some cool additions too, mainly in the form of accessories, with the hardware details on the belts similar to those included in the Givenchy collection and the abstract hair slides being standouts for me. It was all exquisite-the shoes, the jewellery, the styling, everything 10/10. My other nitpick, and I say nitpick not because it’s not important but because it’s an issue that’s hardly restricted to Jacquemus (this casting team are far from the worst offenders, Saint Laurent I’m looking at you), is that I WISH we’d see more diversity with the models. Despite what my body dysmorphia yells at me, I am small, and yet seeing all those fucking minuscule waists made me die a little inside; it’s crazy to me that in 2020 the lack of variety in body types on the runway is still such a problem.

I must have said this a million times but I don’t want to end on a negative note so let me reiterate: this collection was STUN. NING. Plus there were some others I’ve talked about in this post that I’m sure will make it into my top 20 in the final part, Jacquemus, Dion Lee and Etro for sure; we even got some gorgeous pieces from Maria Grazia which I thought was a sentence I’d never type out. Have I said enough to not leave a bad taste in the mouth of anyone who read to the end of this post? I hope so, lol! TBH, it’s impressive given everything that’s going on that the majority of designers did roll out collections in September as usual so serious respect to them and their design teams for that.

In the next post, I’ll fingers crossed be able to include everything from Kim Shui (exciting!) through to at least Off-White (actually pretty good this time?!) and make this whole thing a 4 parter before getting straight on top of the photo posts I’m thinking about doing for the time being for the F/W21 shows. So as usual, if you did read to the end thank you so much and I respect the perseverance you must have to get through all my rambling, lmao. Hope everyone is well and coping okay and again, my inbox is always open for any post suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a chat for anyone who needs a listening ear.

Big love and thank you again!

Lauren x

[hellishvu]

Fellas, is it Gay to Fall in Love with a Spider?

—  this was so fun to write and let me tell you ! i’m in luv with this concept. also this one is WAYYY longer then my usual stories so grab your popcorn! i wanted to do it right and not force or push the relationship :) this is going to be my pride gift! since it’s so long and i’m sososo close to 200 followers so please enjoy <33

words: 4,783

☆彡 where a spiderkook comes flying through your window during a robbery chase.

Jungkook loves his role as Spider-man, he loves saving things from the world to his local neighborhood. Sometimes he would save a cute guy here and there or a friendly cat. Flying through the air when all of his community knows him very well. Of course they hadn’t known his real identity wanting to keep that a secret. He could only imagine the reaction of all his friends that he’s known for years.

So when one night a chase turned extreme very quickly, Jungkook was on the case seeing the burglar steal a handful of the local bank’s money. Jungkook being there before any of the police force wanting to take things into his own hands. The sharp turns, the fast dodges so he doesn’t hit city buildings. This guy was an expert because he knew every pathway for Jungkook to almost lose him.

There was a sudden turn where he was face front in a bright advisement billboard causing Jungkook to turn his body to a nearby window so he wouldn’t smash right into the wall. Jungkook smashed through the window seeing a male sleeping soundly till he awoke rapidly.

“Holy shit!” You screamed out as you saw a male with a spider suit groaning in pain seeing the he literally went through your window. You heard the shattered glass when he stood up looking out the broken window seeing the robber got away.

“What? What are you doing? My window!” You whined when you got up turning on the light of your room, thank god you lived alone or explaining this to anyone would be a nightmare.

“Well, I shoot webs here and there you know.” The male says with a rather cocky attitude seeing you grab a broom near the door of your bedroom.

“Well you kinda shot a web into my house.” You pointed at the residue of a web on your very favorite poster of the band you’ve been obsessed with. You turned your head towards the clock to see the time was almost 12am.

“Don’t you sleep? It’s 12am. Why are you rolling through windows?” Jungkook heard the male say swiping the glass, you got near his foot pushing the broom to signal him to move his feet so you can get all the glas. Jungkook was literally so confused, did you pay no mind that he literally could fly through your window? Or did you not notice that he was Spider-man in the first place?

“Okay, I hope this doesn’t seem egotistical but you know i’m Spider-man right? Saved the planet?”

“Hi spider-man that saved the planet. I’m y/n now go fix my window!”

“Okay I will come back later but right now I have to go.” Jungkook tried to say when he moved even a muscle caused him to wince at the pain of some open cuts. You took his arm and gave him support so he could get to your bed.

“No. You’re bleeding, luckily no glass got stuck in your skin but it’s better to stay here.”

“But I have to go, plus I just can’t reveal my identity.”

“Well Spider-man you can keep your mask on, just let me help your wounds. Let the cops take care of whatever chase you’re in.” You covered your windows by the curtains you had hoping that the male could relax about his identity. The male requested he went to the bathroom to change, of course you providing clothes for him.

Jungkook walked in the bathroom and the first thing that came to mind was “I’m so fucked.” Why did he need to chase after that one robber, why did he jump through a window, or why is this (cute) guy helping him? Jungkook looked at his reflection of the so called cuts and wow there was a lot of them he was surprised that he hasn’t dropped dead yet. Jungkook took off his spider suit leaving just the mask which looked so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but giggle in the bathroom but it hurt like a bitch so that ended quickly.

“Are you okay in there?” Jungkook heard the muffled question by the door yelling back an ok before once again looking in the mirror once again.

Jungkook opened the restroom door to see you already with an air mattress near your bed. Jungkook raised an eyebrow seeing he never intended on staying the night at so called... just now realizing that he hasn’t learned your name or he just forgot.

“What’s your name?” The male asked when you set a pillow on his air mattress. You looked up to see a well fit male that was like eye candy but you quickly snapped out of it so you could answer his question.

“Y/N, I said it before but I was in a fit of rage so it’s nice to not want to kill you.” You smiled when the male sat down next to you. You grabbed the very home-made med kit that you had for god knows how long but you made sure it was sterile. You don’t want to be known for the person that literally killed spider-man. You started with the smaller cuts some needing band aids while others needed bandages.

“Question though.”

“Shoot it.”

“Do you always jump through people’s windows?” The question has Jungkook snickering flicking your forehead in response, telling you the story from the beginning of how he ended up sitting next to you. Even if he did sleep over, he was spider-man! He’s dealt with the worst people so if you did try anything he doubts it will be tough situation. Maybe that was just an excuse to stay next to you while your warm hands touch his rather cold body. That made his face heat up but thank god you couldn’t see it or the way his ears are probably the most vibrate red in the entire world. Weakness: cute guys... truly the worst.

When the fix was done you sighed seeing the great job you did but you clicked your tongue when you saw one of them were already falling off. You went back to work while this probably will kill Jungkook, he was ticklish and throughout all of this he’s been dying to not laugh.

“Well you should be done. There’s your bed, don’t mind if it gets cold doesn’t usually get that cold in here.” Once again you hinted at the broken window, Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle a little. You laid back on your bed rolling your body away from spider-man.

“Wow he acts like I’m just a friend sleeping over.” Jungkook thought while turning his body towards you, seeing the back of your head. God this mask was suffocating though, he never realized that in battle but holy shit when you got nothing to think but about this mask.

“Do you think, you could just not turn around because I’m going to die from this mask before I die from bleeding.” Jungkook asked seeing you slowly turn to see him. You nodded having sleep in your mind rather then the superhero’s face. Jungkook took off the mask breathing in deep breaths ruffling his soft brown hair. He liked it longer, loved his natural curls.

“Hey I’m a cute boy you’re a cute boy. I have a great personality, you do too. Let’s be soulmates.” Jungkook thought once again before covering himself with more blankets feeling the chilling breeze. Jungkook yawned before resting his eyes.

You woke up rubbing your eyes, you felt something missing or someone. You looked down to see the spider kid not even there. You grumbled that he just left! You looked through the broken window trying to not get pricked by the sharp edges. Looking at the air mattress with a note on the pillow.

“Well there goes him.” You mumble under your breath as you got to cleaning the sleepover if you could call it that.

Jungkook went home, seeing that the apartment was empty so he had the opportunity to quickly change out his spider suit and giving him the well needed shower. The water on his wounds stung for a bit but he felt clean and he can finally go out to eat.

“Jungkook where were you last night?” Jungkook heard his friend that he’s been living with for years. Jungkook quickly tried to come up with an excuse as the silence was more noticeable the longer he took.

“Just slept over at my.. boyfriends house.” Oh god the regret he witnessed when Namjoon gasped loudly. Jungkook did not indeed have a boyfriend neither a brain apparently. That excuse will have to do till Namjoon forgets about it but till then he’s gotta make up a fake person or he could use you but he literally doesn’t know anything besides your name.

Jungkook got out of the shower, seeing his well missed bedroom with posters and clothes that still need to be washed. Jungkook patched himself up but while doing it he couldn’t help but miss your warm hands.

The real question was how was he suppose to help you fix your window? I mean he can’t just walk in and be like “Hey i’m the guy that like broke your window but I’m not spider-man. I’m just a guy you know? That noticed your window was broken because I’m a nice-” Now he was just rambling to himself, he wanted to see you again somehow or someway. Maybe there was another way, maybe he had to take things in his own spider hands.

Jungkook put on his suit sneaking off in the back of his bedroom window webbing across the city trying to look for that particular billboard. Jungkook found it seeing the large women with cat food in her hand while the cat literally looks like they want to destroy her. Jungkook looked inside your window seeing that you weren’t home and no lights were on.

“This can’t be a good idea, crime is never a good idea but is it crime if it’s helping? Maybe he’ll tase me and reveal my identity and send me to become the next cat food model with a cat that wants to murder me, but I won’t be the model I’ll be the cat food they will call it spidermeow.”

You walked in from the longest day of your life, time moved like a snail and you rather spend your time in your cozy bed than anywhere else right now. Playing your favorite music through your earbuds before taking them off when you entered your room. You saw your window was finally repaired with a little note stuck on with tape.

You took off the note seeing the window was actually repaired quite nicely. You knocked on the glass making sure it has the strength to stay in place. Seeing a large box of which probably where the glass was shipped in, you turned it around seeing a name and an address.

Order from: Jungkook Jeon

Ship to: Game Apartments Apt 304

Shipper’s Address: Seaside Apartments Apt 203

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jungkook heard a yell from Namjoon, groggy from taking a nap not so long ago. Jungkook opened the door wearing his slippers before seeing Namjoon in the door way. Jungkook ruffles his hair before taking the door.

“What can I help you wi-” Jungkook widens his eyes recognizing your face instantly. Jungkook cleared his throat trying to act back to normal. Not wanting to break his persona of just a normal guy.

“I think we should talk window breaker.” You grinned with the address and name sticker held up in the air.

Jungkook quickly let you inside pushing you towards his room before Namjoon could ask what was going on. Jungkook slammed the door looking back at you resting on his bed.

“So you’re spider-man?” You got up seeing his face up close and personal. Jungkook gulped stepping away from you to hide his anxious behavior.

“Me? Spider-man psh! That’s- absurd!” jungkook could feel the sweat roll down his forehead to his cheeks.

“Jungkook you don’t have to lie. Plus you wanted to meet!” You cross your hands almost like trapping Jungkook from any possibility of breaking free from this one.

“Yeah but not revealed.” Jungkook ran his hand through his hair, sighing that Mr. Park was going to kill him later about someone finding out his identity.

“I won’t share it. Call it a solid for fixing my window.” You smiled seeing Jungkook blush from seeing your cute smile.

“You also look a lot better then I imagined.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So is that all? I know your identity and the world seems to not be exploding.” You looked out his window trying to prove the point that the world will keep spinning if you knew his name or not.

“Well once you start sharing it I’m sure the world will explode pretty soon.”

“Well I’ll just hang out with you till I gain your trust. So if I start sharing you can catch me anytime.” You declared a deal with him seeing his reaction of being uncertain that this plan will go as smoothly as you want.

“I wish I was cat food instead.” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, having to deal with this and try to explain this to Mr. Park was going to be the death of him.

“You want to get some coffee? Catch breakfast?” You asked trying to give Jungkook a chance to let loose and not think about his spider side every two seconds.

“It’s 2pm.”

“Well, what about brunch then?” You shrug your shoulders trying to meet in the middle with Jungkook.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Jungkook gestures you to leave his room, following you right behind.

“We will be back Namjoon.” Jungkook waves at Namjoon closing the door leading you to go down the stairs the thick air of awkward silence. You expected him to be louder and more out going like when he was in his spider suit.

“So.” You said in between your sips of your beverage, Jungkook holding his banana smoothie in his hand. Jungkook turns his head towards you away from the window he was just staring out of.

“So?” Jungkook raises his eyebrow, wondering when you were just gonna leave him alone so he could just handle the issue of his identity.

“You get mean when you’re Jungkook.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well when your spider-man, you’re kind and you fix windows. When you’re Jungkook you seem annoyed to be with me. I feel like you’re not even giving me a chance.” You sigh sinking in your seat, deciding if there was a way to remove your memory from that night you would take it in an instant at this point the chances of you becoming Jungkook’s friend is as equal as the planet exploding due to an alien invasion.

“It’s just- My friends don’t know, Namjoon doesn’t. I’ve been friends with them for years and they still don’t know. I wasn’t ready for someone to know.”

“And I was hoping that somehow we could meet again but as Jungkook and somehow we could be friends since you’re really sweet. If we are friends and people know who I am. You could get in so much trouble and risk to your own life just because I didn’t remember to take off the stupid sticker with my name in big bold letters.” Jungkook takes a deep breath trying to calm himself down seeing your reaction of silence. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to say, you were figuring out when you should say things.

“Sorry I know I talk a lot.”

“No! It’s okay. I thought going to your house it would be all fun and games but now I know it’s more than that. I was ignorant for thinking it wasn’t a big deal.” You said drinking your last sip of your beverage. Setting it down leaning on the table wanting to show compassion towards Jungkook by body language.

“Thanks. I’m glad we had this talk and I could give you another chance.” Jungkook smiles showing his bunny teeth, you couldn’t help but smile back it was addicting.

“Well it’s fairly early but do you want to have a sleepover? This time I won’t be smashing into anyone’s windows.” Jungkook suggests seeing it was a Friday afternoon. You two being in the large city where snacks and arcades were less then a mile away.

“Yeah I would like that.” You both got up from the booth, setting down a 5 dollar bill in tips. Jungkook basically dragged you out of there.

Jungkook breathes in the city air of the very polluted atmosphere. You trying to guess where Jungkook could possibly take you. Jungkook standing proudly holding his backpack around his arm.

“So our first stop is...”

“Donut shop?”

“Nope.”

“Gas station?”

“We are in the city Y/N.”

“Park?”

“Okay, note taken you're not good at guessing games- Our first stop is the bookstore.”

“Oh and you call my options ridiculous!” You shoving Jungkook playfully when he laughs, Jungkook pulled his wallet from his backpack showing that he just got paid.

“Come on! Read one comic with me!” Jungkook teases you, watching you grumble under your breath.

“Just one?”

“Please!”

“Fine.”

The bookstore was filled with the smell of new books. The pleasant scent with the look of smiling Jungkook. He wore a nicely light pink open button up shirt with a white undershirt. The fluffly brown hair that you remembered from the night he slept over, when in the middle of the night you heard his little snores turning to see his hair in the moonlight.

Jungkook showed you many collections naming all of the main characters and the plot line trying to get you to chose one. Of course the describing was filled with body expressions and his sound affects.

“Oh what is this?” You teased pulling up a comic of SpiderMan, Jungkook getting shy asking you to put it back.

“It’s not even right! First they have me date a women, I’m gay!” Jungkook realized what he just said always having the habit of saying things that are personal too quick.

“You’re gay?” You asked, Jungkook rubbing the back of his head seeing you put the comic back to the original place.

“..Yeah.” Jungkook quietly said hoping that you wouldn’t stomp on his poor heart. You pulled him into a hug messing with his hair.

“Me too.” You released the hug, Jungkook had asked if you had something to write with and something to write on. You pulled a napkin from the cafe you two were at earlier.

“Do you think I could come out? As spider-man?”

“Are you ready? I don’t want to force it on you.” You asked while Jungkook took the napkin signing it, you hiding him as best as you could from the cameras so his identity is hidden.

“Spider-man is Gay #pride2019 — spider man himself”

You two walked out of the bookstore giggling like kids. Jungkook holding the comics he bought with the one you chose to read with him. You could feel the bond get tighter every moment with him. You didn’t want to lose him and you’ve only had this day with him, he looked at the world with glowing eyes rather then seeing all the negative even if he sees it all while he’s spider-man.

“I wonder if falling in love with a spider is gay?” You mumbled under your breath while Jungkook spun around wondering what you said.

“Huh?”

“I wonder if facing my fear of... heights. Was a possibility?” You could be lying or you couldn’t, you never really went to the higher buildings of the city due to not being the most famous or successful person. Jungkook held your hands jumping up and down.

“Do you want me to get you up on the buildings?!” Jungkook cheered still holding your hands. They were soft. Jungkook always wanted to take someone to the buildings with him, it was like the picture perfect romantic setting. The starry night, the good-looking guy, and Jungkook getting his first kiss with yo- It was the starry night that was romantic! Not the possibility that you two might kiss, he wants it though. Good god does he want it.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, Jungkook realizing how long he’s been holding your hands letting them go shyly.

Jungkook walked with you till he found a secured place to change into his spidersuit. Jungkook changed in front of you really not realizing you were there. You tried to stare everywhere but Jungkook’s toned body. Jungkook finally changed into his suit, asking if you could carry his backpack just in case anyone would recognize it.

Wow you haven’t seen him in his spidersuit in so long but now that he’s stretching in it, testing his webs, and making sure he can climb up the building. You couldn’t look in his eyes which is saddening, you love his brown eyes. Jungkook was way more louder and out-going as spider-man though.

“Okay are you ready?” Jungkook was jumping in place waiting for your okay. You pulled the backpack handles around your shoulders tightening it.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You nod, Jungkook pulling you close to his chest wrapping his hand around you. Jungkook could feel his heart race a little quicker not because of the adrenaline of going up this building, it was your head was like not even a feet away from his face. Kissing distance was there and just thinking about it made Jungkook blush.

Jungkook shot his webs pulling you two up the building. You probably shouldn’t look down and even Jungkook warned you about it but curiosity kills you, looking down you widen your eyes. Jungkook noticed it holding you tighter to his chest. Holy shit were you high! It only been like 5 minutes and wow you could see people as ants.

“You okay?” Jungkook said underneath his mask looking up trying to find a faster way up. You laughed like a manic seeing the adrenaline of being so free.

“Yeah! Keep going!” You yelled holding a camera while you told Jungkook to pose, he stopped his web shooting for a minute smiling.

Jungkook two hours ago would never do this with you, never let you take a selfie with him, and would never climb this building with you around him. He’s falling in love which is a unknown subject to him, but he’s going to really fall if he doesn’t stop staring at your eyes.

You two reached the top of the building feeling the strong breeze. You saw Jungkook a bit cold, when he’s on roof tops he’s fighting or chasing after villains but just being on here not moving a muscle the cold got to him. You pulled off your coat wrapping it around him. Jungkook was about to take it off to give it back to you but you stopped him.

“What? You deserve it.”

You two sat down, seeing the starry night of the city. You looked at the billboards seeing many advertisements of water that is way too expensive and clothes that just say one word on it and it suddenly costs 500 dollars. You looked back at Jungkook seeing him enjoy the jacket you let him borrow since it was way bigger than him and you enjoy your coats bigger because for some reason it makes sense to you that they would warm you up more.

Soon enough you saw the twitter trends billboard change instantly seeing #PrideSpiderman and #SpidermanisGay and #Spidergay. You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit, you pointed it for Jungkook to see. Jungkook laughing loudly leaning on you so he doesn’t fall on the concrete.

Jungkook got himself together getting back up from his laughing fit, the first thing he saw your face so close to his. Jungkook took off his mask so you could see him. The blush that is generating, the raw feelings for you, and the tears that are about to come out some from the laughing and others from wanting to kiss you so bad it’s annoying.

“Would it really kill you if we kissed?” Jungkook whispered pressing his forehead to yours. The breath hitches you both exchange realizing there was no way to back out now, you were going to be in his life and in his memories if he decides to not to date you. The city would always remember him of you, that bookstore would always remind him of you, and running and chasing after villains on the rooftop he’ll always blush remembering this day.

“Jungkook you’re going to kill me.” You embrace his face pulling him even closer. Pressing your lips to his, Jungkook felt the most adrenaline in his life with you kissing him. Jungkook closed his eyes letting the strong feelings of love run through his body. You released the kissing session seeing Jungkook still closing his eyes, you flick his forehead just like how he did that faithful night.

“Can we do it again?” Jungkook asks putting himself on your lap. You chuckled pulling him in once more, Jungkook being less nervous about kissing you. It was the prefect sweet harmony and one to always remember.

“I’ve always loved your hands.” Jungkook said while you embraced him, not even minutes later Jungkook realizes just how awkward that sounded.

“Oh god that sounds a lot creepy than I meant it to be.” Jungkook looked down to hide his embarrassment. You lifted his chin making the eye contact once again.

Don’t worry you dork.” You press a kiss on his forehead. 

“How are you going to explain to Namjoon when I come over?”

“Oh I said you were my boyfriend.” Jungkook realizing he did his very own foreshadowing.

“Oh really now?”

“Well, I needed an excuse of why I was gone when I came home at like 7am. Plus I kinda wanted to be your boyfriend at the time and you were kinda running through my head all the time but at the same time I didn’t know if I had feelings for you because like could I even have feelings for you if you knew I was spider-man-“

“Oh I’m doing that thing again.” Jungkook buries his head in your neck whining that he does talk a lot out of no where.

“If you find it annoying, I’ll stop.” Jungkook mumbles wondering when he should get off your lap. You gave him silence but Jungkook took that as “plz get off my lap you weirdo.” Jungkook lifted one leg off of you but before he could get off your lap you pressed him closer to you.

“Y/N?”

“You’re precious, I love your rambles don’t ever change.” Oh god butterflies flew everywhere in his stomach. Jungkook lifting his head, kissing you softly again.

You two arrived at the apparments sharing jokes and stories along the way till Jungkook opened the door, seeing Namjoon sitting on the couch in his pajamas, snacking on carrots. Namjoon waved at Jungkook before noticing you were there.

“Is this your boyfriend Jungkook?” Namjoon asked giving a rather playful face seeing Jungkook frown from the teasing. You held his hand raising it up for Namjoon to see.

“Yup! I’m Y/N, Jungkook’s boyfriend.” You announced offering to shake hands with Namjoon. Namjoon shook hands with you feeling the ferm grip. Jungkook felt the weight off his shoulders not having to worry about that.

“Wait did he just call me his boyfriend? Is that official? Or did he just say that to protect me? Is it okay to marry someone you just started dating?” Jungkook thought while you and Namjoon converse getting to know eachother.

Jungkook decided that it was time to have alone time with you, you exchanging goodnights with Namjoon. You felt Jungkook’s hand lead you to his bedroom. Not as strangers anymore, but as lovers. You couldn’t help but have a giant grin on your face.

“Guys did you hear spider man is gay!? This is a win for the gays!” You two heard from the other side of the door. Namjoon cheering, you looking at Jungkook looking like he was on top of the moon, you pulled him in so you both were laying down on his bed. Sleeping peacefully in eachothers arms not a care in the world wether bad guys existed or good guys, all you needed in your world was Jungkook. It didn’t matter if he was the global superhero spider-man or just a regular nerd that enjoys comics a little too much. You knew he was special.

[bixgirl1]

What's your favorite sex scene you've written out of all your fics & what's your favorite sex scene you ever read?

Hi nonnie!  Sorry this took so long — I tend to leave aside asks that I know will take awhile to compose an answer to (and boy, howdy if this isn’t one of those. lol), and shamefully end up forgetting they’re there for way too long. But I’m a teensy burnt on writing atm and came across this, so:

(This got wayyy longer than I intended, so it’s going under a cut. :D)

My favorite sex scene(s) I’ve ever written

I hope you don’t mind that I picked a few. I freaking hate sounding egotistical, but I’m pretty proud of a lot of my sex scenes, so I kind of wanted to cry at having to pick. lolol. Anyway, I narrowed it down to:

The Legilimency sex in Every Me and Every You. That’s one of those scenes that came to me in this blinding, gleeful flash, and was written almost as quickly — and I got to try my hand at a version of Glove!kink, which makes me absolutely drool (more on that in the second part of your ask. lol).   

The Bonding scene in In The Red.  Though the fic has like 90 sex scenes in it (all of which I loved writing) from the outset, I knew exactly how I wanted that scene to go, every line and word, every position and emotion. I’m a little in love with it.  

Pretty much every sex scene in Sexplanations (Of The Horrible Sort),but especially the final one, because I laughed my head off at doing… well, that, to Harry.  (I make no apologies. Bahahaha)  

The whole of If The Shirt Fits.  It’s a pwp, but I love Draco’s voice in it.

Every sex scene (both het and slash) in Love Him More, because I felt like they managed to be both sexy and something else depending on the scene: aching, heartbroken, confused, renewing.

And I have to put an honorable mention in here for the first kissing/unfulfilled frotting scene in 12 Days Of What The Fuck. No one gets off in it, but I loved writing an extended snogging scene for a lot of ~reasons. (One of them is that I hardcore headcanon Harry as really loving kissing, partly because kissing’s great, and partly because he was so touch starved growing up.)

Now. If the first part of your question made me want to cry, this one practically had me bawling and wearing sackcloth, thank you ever so much for the trauma of having to pick. LOL. I am…less good at narrowing things down here. (I love sex in fic. I most often sort by rating and again, I make no apologies. *snort*) Believe you me, if I like the scene enough to list it as a fave, all of these writer’s sex scenes are brutally hot, and beyond that, the writing and plots are unbelievably good, too. (I can legit quote the dialogue in most of them. lol) Also, keep in mind I haven’t read every fic out there, my to read list is disgustingly long, these are all simply my own taste, and there may be some I adore that I’m just outright forgetting or leaving out for the sake of space and time.

*cracks knuckles* In no particular order:

The first sex scene with its surprisingly explosive chemistry in Touch Me Fall  by @lqtraintracks  and her first and second-to-last sex scenes in Blood and Fire,  which were simultaneously scorching and so lovely.

The extended foreplay/sex scene in lqt and @whipmyhairlikebangbang‘s Weeds Or Wildflowers  because hmmminuhh, there are not even words…

The first (in person) sex scene in @magpiefngrl‘s Hush, darling,  and each excited, faltering, tender kink negotiation sex scene Harry and Draco had in her fic Kettle.  (For something lighter and equally brilliant, read the lust leaks sex in  The Full Monty)

The first sex scene in Good Talk, Potter  by @l0vegl0wsinthedark. She brushes off how brilliant it is, but it was my introduction to Cocky!Harry, and for that I’ll always adore her and it. But I can’t not mention the rimming and knotting scenes in her fic Expectant, which, combined, are like 12k of some of the hottest sex you’ll ever read. But who’s surprised? 

@oceaxe’s series Closer Than Skin four smutty one-shots about, uh, shaving I didn’t know I needed until I read them. 

The knotting scene in Embers  by @shiftylinguini, which is somehow long, sweet, and blistering at the same time. Also (and this isn’t H/D, but idec), the Albus/Scorpius and Teddy/Jamie sex in her fic Sardines, which will make you go  :o  then go :O then go ;)~

The first and last sex scenes in Idk, My BFF Hermione? because the gift of writing such filthy sex and talk has only been bestowed upon a few in this world, and @letteredlettered is one of them.

Endowment  by @dictacontrion. It was my introduction, I think, to Hung!Draco, and I still can’t read it without blushing hot red and making little yipping noises.

The sex in don’t say you love me, that’s extortion by @lower-east-side​ because it’s so quietly evocative and intimate. 

Draco coming on Harry’s chest in Sex and the Art of Castle Maintenance, Draco coming on his own chest as Harry rims him in You open always (petal by petal), and Draco coming between Harry’s thighs in Lumos, all by clever and talented birdsofshore. (What can I say? I really really dig it when she makes Draco come. You will too, promise. lol)               

The sex in When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by @femmequixotic, whose sex slays me every time. (And don’t even bother asking which sex scene is my favorite from her Tales From the Special Branch series because there are a lot of them and they’re all splendidly dirty and I can’t pick and you can’t make me.)   

The first blowjob scene in @writcraft‘s Dreaming of Harry because it’s so…idk, sexy and realistic and sweet, just what I’d imagine between these boys under those circumstances, and the getting off in the cupboard scene in their fic Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening because, I mean, hot, but also charming and wonderful.     

And I believe I promised to come back to Glove!Kink? Try The Games We Play by @gracerene09​ because holy hell, you guys. Seriously. Fingering and wanking for the fucking win. Wear sunglasses or it’ll blind you; it’s smoking. 

The sex in Fuck, Kill, Marry by @lettersbyelise​, which is funny and blistering and darling all at once.  (….And omfg, when I went to get the link, I saw that her newly posted a drabble came with the tag ‘rentboy Draco’ and I couldn’t resist and jesus fucking christ, the blowjob in Swallow (Your Pride) too now, yes, yes!!!)

And, okay, this one might sound weird, but the Blaise/Draco sex in Just Friends (or Why Draco Malfoy Shouldn’t Have Sex in His Office) by @unadulteratedstorycollector  because it matches the heat of the Harry/Draco sex that comes later, but Harry’s accidental viewing of it is incredibly sexy and confusing (for him) and his reactions are awesome.  

And finally: The first (dubcon) sex scene in @firethesound‘s The Light More Beautiful, which left me breathless and enthralled, as well as the shower wanking scene later in the fic, both of them a totally enthusiastic chef’s kiss!  

So there you go! A non-comprehensive list of my favorite sex scenes. That many of them are in some of my favorite fics is probably no surprise, but what can you do? lol. I like detailed and dirty, I like kink, I like romantic, I like exploratory, and I like to read a lot of it. :D Hope this helps!! 

[okietokiee]

from the 45 otp prompts, 25 w skwistok? :D

25. “I can’t be mad at you.”

This prompt is so cute and became long, shameless Fluff :’) 

Skwistok / Anniversary 

Skwisgaar was extremely proud. Though that was arguably his default mode, he had an extremely valid reason at the moment (other than being the fastest guitarist to ever grace the earth). 

His and Toki’s one-year anniversary had been fast-approaching for the past month. But now it was finally the day-of, and he was the most prepared he could ever possibly be. 

He wasn’t known as an esteemed playboy without good reason; he truly was a romantic at heart. And, though he could admit past romantic endeavors were mostly shallow and just a means to an end, he could honestly say this time was different. This time he was out to woo Toki and absolutely reinvent the world’s idea of romance. In a good way. 

And it started with an -eughhh- healthy breakfast in bed. 

After a klokateer handed Skwisgaar the impeccably prepared tray full of assorted fruits Toki was annoyingly fond of in addition to his favored brand of sugary cereal, Skwisgaar was on his way. 

Toki was still deeply asleep, spread out like a starfish smack-dab in the middle of Skwisgaar’s four-poster sized bed, where he had previously left him to retrieve his first surprise. 

The swede smiled fondly and set down the tray by the bed, plopping down and peppering Toki’s face with a multitude of quick, sloppy kisses. 

Toki was slowly stirred awake, and he giggled, returning Skwisgaar’s smooches with his own. He even started making some moves bring his kisses a bit lower, and he was incredibly surprised when Skwisgaar stopped his movements with a small push and cough. 

“Whats wrongs?” Toki asked, sitting up and stretching his sore muscles.

Skwisgaar grinned. “I gots yous breakfast,” he declared, as he picked up the tray from the floor and set it on Toki’s lap. 

To say Toki was confused would be an understatement, but he was never the type to look at a horse’s gift on the mouth. Or however that phrase went. Especially when that horse was an incredibly sexy Swedish guitar God with a tray of Toki’s absolute favorite foods to start the day with. He wasted no time and was munching happily. Skwisgaar even humored him and was currently eating a crisp red apple with no complaints. 

“Afters yous done gets yous swimsuit readies, we goinks somewhere,” Skwisgaar said with an air of nonchalance, sneaking glances at his boyfriend. 

“Where’s we goins Skwisgaar?” Toki asked after finishing his glass of orange juice. 

Skwisgaar smirked. “You’ll sees.” 

An hour later, if Toki’s excited, ear-splitting screech was anything to go by, he was pleased with this surprise. 

“I can’ts believes you buys de whole Splasharoonie Water Parks!” Toki yelled gleefully, already tearing off his clothes and eyeing the tallest waterslide. 

Skwisgaar gave a nonchalant hand wave. “Pfft, it no big deals. Nots dat expensives anyway. Besides now we cans come here whenever we wants,” he finished with a smile. 

And though both boys could rest assured that they could now visit the famous waterpark whenever they felt like it, the day was not wasted and by the end of the day they both tried every waterslide at least twice and were comfortably exhausted.

After a couple hours of lying close together on a beach chair, idly playing with each other’s hair and laughing about any stupid subject or observation that comes up, Skwisgaar surprised Toki once again. 

“You hungries?” Skwisgaar asked, combing his fingers through Toki’s chocolate locks. 

“Starvings! You wants to heads back nows?” Toki answered, sitting up a little. 

Skwisgaar grinned. “Nos, stays down, I gots it,” he said as he grabbed his Deathphone from the nearby side table and sent a quick text. 

Within minutes, a group of Klokateers approached and began setting up a picturesque picnic right in front of them, complete with a woven basket, Norwegian delicacies, and a generous assortment of booze. It was heaven. 

Toki was both incredibly overjoyed and completely bewildered now.

“Skwisgaar…”

Skwisgaar beamed, expecting his well-deserved praise and kisses right about now. “Yes Toki? It’s nice, ja?”

“Ja, it’s amazings! Buts…” 

This caused Skwisgaar to pause. He gave his man a scrutinizing stare. “What ams wrong? Dey forgets de stinky herrings? Gotdammit! I tolds dem dams klokateers-”

He was cut off from his rant by Toki’s light tugging on his arm. “No, no! It ams absolutely perfects! It’s just…”

Skwisgaar was confused and frustrated now. “Whats? Spits it out.”

Toki was flustered and finally got out a strained, “Why?”

For a painfully long moment, Skwisgaar had no idea how to respond. He briefly considered the idea that Toki was pulling his leg, and he let out a scoff. “It ams obvious you dildos. You knows what days it is.” 

Toki still had that annoyingly confused look in his big blue eyes. “I’m sorries Skwisgaar, what’s you mean?”

That was definitely the straw that obliterated the camel’s hip, and Skwisgaar angrily replied, “Our one years anniversaries you dildo!” 

Toki paled. “That ams today?”

Skwisgaar let out a frustrated groan. “Yes, it ams been on dis day for de past, I don’t know, year?” He said snidely, his good mood ruined. “I can’ts believes you forgets!” Outraged, the Swede pushed Toki off him and stood up, marching away.

Toki scrambled up, chasing after his boyfriend and trying to apologize. “Toki ams so sorries Skwisgaar! I aments goods at rememberings dese tings, and I didn’t realize you was de type to wants to celebrates dis!” 

Skwisgaar abruptly turned around. “Of course I wants to celebrates today! It’s my first anniversaries with someones I-” Skwisgaar paused, cutting himself off. He flushed red with anger and maybe a hint of something else. “Euuuuughh, it don’ts matters anymores… I ams goinks home…” He finished dejectedly, blocking out whatever fervent apologies and promises Toki made. 

The following day was full of Skwisgaar, understandably, locking himself up in his room with just his guitar for company to sulk, avoiding the object of both his affection and ire in every way he could. 

It was also full of Toki desperately trying to make it up to his man, in whatever way he could. He’d already caused the deaths of 2 klokateers after an attempt at baking Skwisgaar a cake, and he was prepared to lose more if needed. 

But his current plan (to the relief of his manager and employees) did not involve any potentially life-threatening machinery. 

He was dressed in a strikingly similar fashion to his Steve Vai phase years ago, but this time in a blindingly bright, glittery red 4-piece suit with his flying-V tucked under his arm. 

He looked cartoonishly absurd, and the rest of Dethklok was not blind to that. 

“Er… Toki, you sure Skwisgaar will appreciate this, uh… what are you doing again?” Nathan asked, already pretty used to the Scandinavian couple’s lovers quarrels. 

“I’m goins to serenade him,” Toki declared proudly.

Pickles gave a big laugh, and walked up to give Toki is supportive clap on the back. “You gett’em kid. He’ll love it.” 

Murderface rolled his eyes and mumbled vaguely encouraging, vaguely insulting platitudes Toki’s way. 

Toki, emboldened by his friend’s support, marched confidently up to Skwisgaar’s door and gave it a hard succession of knocks. 

“Gos aways!” Was his only muffled reply. 

With a nervous sigh, he plugged his guitar into a nearby amp brought by a klokateer and he prepared to make a complete and utter fool of himself. 

Within moments, the halls of Mordhaus was flooded with the smooth, dramatic sounds of Air Supply partnered with Toki’s broken, tone-deaf english. Which was quickly followed by Pickles’ barely contained laughter. 

“Ams all outta loves! Ams so losts wivouts you! I knows you was rights-”

Toki was so lost in the sappy music, he didn’t even notice as the Swede’s door slowly creaked open and the object of his desperate love slowly stepped out into the hallway to bear witness to his passionate tribute. 

As he finished with an intense improvised guitar solo that honestly rivaled his best live shows, he was surprised to hear the melodic laughter of his song’s intended recipient. 

“Skwisgaar!” Toki cried, throwing his guitar aside and shamelessly wrapping his arms around the taller man. 

“Toki ams so sorries! I never wanteds to forgets our anniversaries! I does anyting-”

He was cut off with an abrupt, fiery kiss from the Swede himself, and when they both separated after a long, amazing moment, he completely forgot what he was saying. 

“Toki… I just can’ts be mad at yous can I? You dumb dildos,” Skwisgaar said fondly, holding his idiot boyfriend in his arms. 

“Sos yous forgives mes?” Toki asked hopefully, smiling widely. 

Skwisgaar laughed. “I guess, afters a performance likes dat. Why can’ts you play dat well in rehearsals?” He teased. 

“Oh, shuts up,” Toki laughingly replied.

He playfully shoved his Swedish boyfriend straight back into his room where he followed, and he made sure to shut the door tight. 

Within moments, the halls of Mordhaus were filled with even more romantic sounds, although these sounds were more reminiscent to a dirty video than an 80s love song.

- - - - -

I guess I don’t really know what drabble means?? I’m sorry this ended up wayyy longer than originally planned ;-; But I was overtaken by the sap and needed to write it LOL 

Also, I blame @little-murmaider  for her Skwisgaar loving Stevie Wonder hc, because now I’m an absolute sucker for Skwistok interacting with soft, painfully sappy love songs

[cryptid-bloodhound]

The Phantom Agony

So, this was totally for @ajays-lullaby​ for that music ask game and uh...it got like wayyy longer than intended. So rather than put it all in the ask (bcus I can’t put a read more in there i don’t think??) i decided to make a separate post. Otherwise yall would h a t e me for the clunky ass text. anyway, hope yall enjoy! <3

Characters: Wraith, Bloodhound

Notes: It’s a total supernatural/fantasy AU. Ghost!Wraith (aka Wraith!Wraith bcus i think im funny) and Monster Hunter!Bloodhound. It can be platonic or romantic if u squint depending on your preference. Wraith has no memories, mean voices, and bad anxiety. she just needs a hug.

Read On: Ao3

Random Song Selected for the Prompt: Monster - Starset

“My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul Who knew the emptiness could be so cold? I've lost the parts of me that make me whole I am the darkness I'm a monster“

Deep in the wilds forgotten by time lurked the shadow of a woman lost to despair. It was a desolate place that reeked of woe. What life had once flourished there had long since been chased away by the tormented entity. Trees stood barren and brittle, casting long, gnarled shadows in every direction like greedy hands. Nothing but cold dirt and stones pocked the ground. Everywhere else in this forest was thriving and beautiful. Everywhere except for the den of the Wraith.

She could not remember anything; not her name, her age, how long she had been trapped here, or where all of this anger came from. It was as if she simply came into being one day full of anguish and hate. There was an endless aching in her skull in the form of callous voices. They're insidious little whispers just at the furthest reaches of her mind, tempting her with memories she could never quite grasp. Try as she might, they always seemed just out of her reach. It was maddening. She wanted to know who she was, why she was stuck here, why everything hurt, hurt, hurt-

She could recall voices, though.

So many voices.

They scratched aching grooves into her nerves when those harsh tones rose in her mind. What they said, she couldn’t catch but it filled her with a God-awful dread. Always the same voices, always the same tones.

And she could remember pain.

So much pain.

Like torn sinew and choking breath, it crawled through the ghost of her nerves. Over and over and over and over. She just wanted it all to stop! 

There had been a fear so strong in those lost memories that it branded her soul. She could still taste its acrid flavor like bile on her tongue. How utterly cruel it is that she can taste nothing but her fear. Her fear and her rage. She was but a phantom of suffering, wailing pleas and profanities into the deep, yawning abyss around her. She would grip her head and scream, scream, scream for help but no one ever came. No one that stayed, that is.

At first, she did not know what she was. Not until some hikers crossed her path, that is. They walked into her grove, a light and joy in their eyes that made her ache. She called out to them but they did not answer. She walked up to them and asked for help. Still, they did not answer. They walked around her sacred area with wide eyes, remarking on the eerie feeling all around, pointing out the oddly dead foliage, and joking as if she were not there. An ugly, pernicious feeling curdled her gut at the callous display.

Then, the man let out a loud, sharp laugh and a spike of utter terror pierced her to the core. It echoed like a record stuck on repeat in her head. That sound was so very much like the one in her sparse memories. Had she a breath, it’d be caught in her throat. Instead, that cold fear twisted and turned inside of her. It thawed and melted, kept heating up until it boiled over. This... This was one of them. All of her pain and dread and hate spewed forth like a volcano and she positively erupted. With bared teeth and clawed hands, she rushed forward. Her presence was felt like a harsh gust of wind - the herald of a coming storm. 

She could not feel her strikes land but the fear in the couple’s eyes and red lines forming on his face let her know that the manifestation of her wrath could certainly be felt. Nature trembled and bowed to her unearthly power as the people skittered over themselves to escape. The Wraith went to take chase but was held back by an unknown force. No matter how hard she pulled at the unseen tether or beat against the invisible wall, she could not leave. Those voices in her head wailed with gnashing teeth, hungry for vengeance. They were left to starve.

From that revelation came a cruel, aching bitterness. There were people out there who took her life from her. They twisted her into some sort of monster and she was stuck here, forced to live in damnation because of it. That bitterness and agony swelled like a balloon. She would chase away any who dared enter her grove because having them there was just another form of torture. She wanted to speak with them. She wanted to feel the warmth of another’s touch, a caring embrace, something . But she was denied even that simple kindness. It was the low hanging fruit she simply could not get. The oasis just beyond her fingertips. And just like the old Fox’s fable, she grew sour over that taunting temptation. It was better to push them all away than to be tormented even further. 

It was better to be alone than in agony.

She could not recall how long it had been since the last person fleed from her territory. Time seemed so very inconsistent to The Wraith. Hours, days, years. It meant nothing to her. So she stalked her lonesome grove with a void in her soul that would not leave. There were times she regretted chasing all who came here away because this desolation felt too close to torture these days.

Hadn’t it always?  

She pushed those prodding little voices back as hard as she could. There was no use wondering about ‘what if’s and ‘I should have done’s. This is the path she chose and she will stay to it with her chin up and the fierce conviction that was undeniably all her. No amount of longing or rapacious voices will make her backpedal. What’s done is done, after all.

So, when the day came when an oddly masked figure approached her grove she beat back those feelings of yearning and clamped down on the ache inside of her. The Wraith would chase this one away just like all the rest. They would simply walk by her, taunt her with the life she’s been denied, and dangle comfort like a toy. With the same hard stare and clenched fists, she drew upon her pain and prepared to bring the Heavens down once again. 

But something strange occurred.

That figure stopped just at the edge of her grove, mere inches from her invisible barrier. They cocked their head as if curious while looking around slowly. Their outfit was unlike any she had laid her eyes on before. Armor was not typically worn by any but soldiers and even then it was unlike this armor. Regardless of the oddity, she remained prepared for that inevitable moment they’d cross her threshold. They were probably another adventure seeker or ‘ghost hunter’ looking for a thrill. The frown tugging her lips only deepened at the thought. The Wraith despised those sorts the most. Her agony was not an attraction to be delighted by and she would entertain none who thought otherwise.

“May I enter your home?”

The unexpected words nearly startled the spectral being. Never before had someone attempted to speak to her. It sent a jolt through her body and that malignant current she built up wavered.

“What?”

As soon as she answered she felt foolish. No doubt this one was speaking to ‘The Ghost of the Shattered Forest’. Before she could even get back to scowling, that masked face turned to look directly at her. 

“I humbly requested entrance to your home.”

Again, she was at a total loss. What traction she had built crumbled like sand between her fingers. There was absolutely no way this individual heard her. The Wraith tried desperately not to get her hopes up as that masked gaze never wavered from her direction.

“You can see me?”

Her voice, soft and ethereal, wavered ever so slightly at the end of her words. ‘No!’ She yelled at herself. ‘I can’t hope for this.’ Had she not already been dead then surely the crushing disappointment would end her entirely. But, as she tried to smother that devilishly persistent flicker of hope, that mask gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. She trembled with nerves she thought were long gone. 

“But... how? Nobody else can.”

There was a fragileness like ill-tempered glass in her voice that she despised . It’s just been so, so long since she spoke to someone - since she felt alive . If she had tears to shed, she feared they would get the best of her. Even now, just this small confirmation had her choke back a sob of pure joy. 

“I have been gifted with sight by the Gods.”

Their voice was just as odd as their armor. An accent curled heavily around their words in a way she was unfamiliar with. Foreign, then. She couldn’t help but wonder if they truly were blessed to see such a creature as her or if they were delusional. In her eyes, such sight would be nothing short of a curse. She cleared her throat - a useless but ingrained habit - as she composed herself. This was a stranger. One who could see her. One who may hurt her. Those snarling, snapping voices tried to tempt her to violence. It would be best to destroy this person before they had a chance to cause her more pain. 

That grotesque desire was so strong it nearly suffocated her. She would not heed them. After all, she was no one’s puppet. Still, even the chance of danger had her ghostly, almost translucent eyes narrowing suspiciously. Once bitten, twice shy.

“Who are you?”

The stranger never shifted from their spot, she noted. She had never permitted them to cross into her withered grove and they acknowledged that. Instead, they stood calm and tall, exuding a peace she can’t recall ever feeling. It made that hunger in her rise like a leviathan. She wanted that peace. Whether it was due to her desire for comfort or that damning hunger, she gestured for the hunter to step into her territory. They gave a gracious gesture and took but a few steps forward before halting.

“I am Blothhundr, a Hunter of the Gods. You may call me Bloodhound.”

That wariness didn’t wane after their introduction. If anything, all it accomplished was setting her teeth on edge. There was a war waging in her head between the desire to close the distance and drink in the company she’s long been denied and the desire to cast them far, far away so she would be safe. That inner battle caught her tongue for a moment and kept her rooted in her spot. Finally, she was able to push past the haze of violent screams echoing like sirens to get out a response.

“And what are you hunting?”

They paused for only a moment before uttering a single word.

“Monsters.”

Just like that, her hopes shattered all around her. There was something utterly devastating about finally getting just what one has always desired only for it to be twisted so cruelly. She had no doubt this proclaimed Divine Hunter was here for her head. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so harsh to the mortals who crossed her path. That bitterness mixed with a swell of fear and it reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It came in the form of the singing silver of blades unsheathed and cruel, husky voices.

While the voices screamed for action and her body trembled to flee, she stood her ground proud and tall. Perhaps under all of that fear of what’s to come was a shred of dark relief. Anything would be better than this lonely Hell, wouldn’t it? Regardless, she would face her hunter with all of her fierce, untamed fury. She wouldn’t go quietly into the night. Not again. That ethereal energy she possessed built around her once more as she prepared for their inevitable clash.

“I take it that monster is me?”

As she spoke, she jutted her chin up in defiance, letting it be known that she would be no easy prey. Instead of aggression, however, she was met with pacifism. They raised their gloved hands in a placating gesture that once again surprised her. 

“My apologies, I have not made my intentions clear. No, you are not the one I am after.”

They sounded completely sincere but how would she know any better? Her disbelief colored her voice dark with its dry, skeptical undertone.

“Really?”

Still, the odd hunter seemed unfazed. They merely gave another polite nod.

“Já.”

That frown on her face only deepened further. They lapsed into a tense silence as she eyed them up warily. There was a barely concealed hostility just beneath her wraps as those voices implored her to act. Once more, the hunter spread their hands out wide in a grand gesture meant to convey some sort of understanding.

“Not all óvættr are wraiths and revenants. Some appear as men. They are the most monstrous of all. They are who I am after.”

Again, something in her head twisted sharply. There was a thought - a memory - at the very edges of her mind. It left her itching to chase that particular white rabbit. Still, she did not speak. She did not want to encourage this enigmatic hunter to keep raising her hopes back up. It’s a trick , the voices claimed. Her jaw clenched and she felt a phantom pain from the pressure. They continued on.

“Truly, I do not believe Wraiths to be monsters at all.”

She scoffed in utter disbelief. 

“You’d be the first.”

The sardonic, baleful words slipped from her tongue without her permission. She snapped her mouth shut as soon as the last syllable left her lips. The abrupt, almost angry cut-off didn’t seem to bother her newfound companion. They just shook their head, an almost mournful hunch to their once-squared shoulders.

“I am aware. Many misunderstand that which they fear and they fear that which they do not understand. Wraiths are born of violence and injustice. They are innocent souls who met a fate they did not deserve. So they are trapped, unable to find friðr until they find justice. “

Their words stirred up a violent hurricane within her. Flashes of faces colored her vision until it was all she could see. Voices and metal-on-metal beat in her ears. The suffocating scents of leather, dirt, and smoke choked her airless lungs. It all flashed too fast for her to catch but she knew - she knew - where all of her hate and fear came from. This one, they spoke the truth. Something utterly profane happened to her and it robbed her of all that she once was. It left that disgustingly familiar hollow ache in its place. It pulsated like a fetid wound. This wasn’t fair! The dead should not hurt so deeply!

“That’s what happened to me?”

It came out a whisper full of turmoil. The Wraith could hardly untangle this confusing web of emotions she was feeling. It left her wanting to lash out like a wounded, cornered animal as she was used to doing. Without realizing it, she had squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to push the wailing voices and barbed feelings far away. It felt like she would shake apart from the endless tide beating against her soul. 

Stop, please stop!

“It would seem so.”

The soft voice was so much nearer than it had been before. It startled her, though not nearly as much as the gloved hand on her shoulder. She could feel the weight of their hand and the warmth of the glove against her icy skin. So shocking was this gesture that even the voices were silenced for a change. The Wraith could not help but stare with wide doe eyes and gasp quietly.

“How are you able to do that?”

As if only just realizing what they’d done, Bloodhound retracted their hand quickly. She almost wanted to chase the touch, much to her chagrin. Just how starved of affection had she become? ...That was a question she truly did not want answered for surely it would only upset her further. Bloodhound was quiet for a moment before finally answering her question. The tone of their voice hedged dangerously close to uncomfortable.

“...That is a story for another time.”

She frowned slightly at the deflection. The desire to pester them for an answer was strong but then she noticed just how stiff they’d become. Their hands were curled into tight fists and they had turned slightly away from her as if contemplating an escape. A quiet desperation rose in her at the mere thought of being stuck in this lonely purgatory again. 

Wraith quickly reached out, hand hovering over the hunter’s armguard. Slowly, she reached just a bit further until she gently grabbed their arm. For an agonizing moment, she feared her hand would have passed right through them just as it had everyone else. But no, she could feel the rough, worn texture of the metal beneath her ghostly fingers. When she ached, it was with joy this time. Bloodhound slowly looked her direction, stance still ready to run.

“...I accept your help. I...want to remember. Everything. I want...”

Getting the words out was harder than she could have imagined. Asking for help - showing just how vulnerable she is - was so very, very difficult. But, she managed to get the words out there, soft as a spring breeze.

“I want to find peace.”

And by the Gods it was true. There was nothing in this world she wanted more than to finally be at peace. Wraith could only pray that this hunter was true to their word. Slowly, minutely, their stance relaxed. Finally, they gave a small nod and spoke with a confidence that instilled a courage and hope in her she didn’t previously dare let herself feel.

“Then the hunt begins.”

[aweebwrites]

Garmadad (Side-Effect AU)

“Kai, where are you going?” Sensei Garmadon asked from where he was meditating in the training room, eyes closed still.

“I thought I'd drop by Jay's folks and mess around.” Kai says, heading towards the exit still.

“Alright. Don't forget your Desert Crawler is still under maintenance. You might have to borrow one of the others’ vehicles.” He reminded.

“No. The junkyard isn't that far out. I'll walk.” Kai decided after a moment of thought.

“Alright then. Safe travels. Have Mrs. Walker give us a call if you don't feel up to walking back.” Sensei Garmadon says, opening his eyes to look at him.

“Ok. Later.” Kai says with a wave over his shoulder as he left.

Sensei Garmadon breathed out slowly as he relaxed again. It was rare for things to be quiet around here. Jay and Lloyd crashed earlier after a particularly intense conversation about who knows what and were soundly asleep. He carried them both to theor rooms but noticed Jay was lighter than usual so he notified his brother. They had to keep tabs on things like that with the ninja. It's usually something innocent like forgetting a few meals while you mind was running 100 miles ahead if you but it could turn into something much worse such as an eating disorder if left unchecked.

Not only was he their second Sensei, but he was also a councillor. Certified and everything. He had to be. An outsider would be at serious risks. Talks with the ninja don't always run smoothly after all. In fact, more than half the time some kind of incident happens. But he didn't mind. The burden of holding an element is something he wouldn't wish on anyone and if he can help these kids by doing something like being their councillor, then best believe he will be the very best he could be. Besides, they're just as much his children as Lloyd is.

“Hey Sensei G, got a moment?” Cole asked as he came down the stairs.

“Always. How can I help?” He asked, watching him approach.

“Well… I've been… I wanted to… But…” Cole got out forcefully, the words looking painful to even think.

Garmadon nodded.

“So you think you've been more snappish at the others than normal and you'd like to have something done to make it up to them, correct?” He questioned, fluid in speaking Cole by now.

“No! What do I care about those jerks!” Cole huffed, looking away frustration in his eyes.

“Let me put it this way then. You and the others don't get along right?” He questioned and Cole nodded. “And while you don't get along with them or particularly care, you certainly don't want anything bad to happen to them, right?”

“'Course not.” Cole says with a frown.

“Then in that case, how about I help you do or make something for them that shows that?” Garmadon suggested and Cole lit up.

“Yeah! I was thinking of something outdoorsy since we spend wayyy too much time inside but like something active for Lloyd and Jay but not too active since…” Garmadon only smiled as Cole went off on ideas, able to speak freely- if just for a few moments.

He was able to find loopholes like this sometimes. It always brings warmth to his heart to see them free of burden if just for a few moments.

__________________

“Nya, we talked about using your water in certain places. Have you forgotten?” Garmadon asked, watching her float several orbs of water over her head from where she lay on the ground in the living space.

“I thought here was ok?” Nya says, looking across at him, the orbs faltering.

“Ah-ah! Keep your focus. Don't spill a single drop.” Garmadon says sternly, hands on his hips, watching her catch them. “Now put them away.” He instructed and she floated them into one of the close by potted kentia palm plant they keep around for situations like this.

“Good girl.” He nodded at her then knelt and ruffled her hair. “I have to be stern Nya. I'm only looking out for you. You were playing around with your water next to that electrical plug, a very dangerous combination. I bet you didn't notice that, did you?” He says, gesturing to it next to her head.

“Oh. When did that get there?” She says, looking at it and Garmadon chuckled.

“Try to be more vigilant next time.” He advised them moved to stand. “... Nya, would you be a darling and help me stand up?”

_________________

“Oh. Lloyd. Up already?” Garmadon questioned, seeing him step out of his room as he headed to his.

“Yeah. You know me. Gotta keep going.” He says with failed humour, looking exhausted still.

Garmadon frowned, already making it his mission for the day to make sure he gets round two of sleep. He knew however, it wouldn't be right now. Once he's awake, it'll take at least an hour for him to have a slight possibility of falling back to sleep. He already has a plan in mind...

“Alright. Try not to push yourself too hard.” He says, pulling him into a hug and Lloyd smiled into his father's shoulder, hugging back.

Dad hugs were the only things he would stand still for.

“I won't.” He murmured then smirked. “Still not used to two armed hugs.” He added and grinned once his father chuckled deep.

“Well, sometimes I forget I only have two now.” Garmadon admits, amused as he pulled back to look at his son.

“Is that why that ugly mug mom gave you broke the same day you got it?” He asked with a knowing smirk.

“That was an unfortunate accident. Completely coincidental.” Garmadon denied, a smile tugging the corners of his lips and Lloyd laughed.

“Whatever you say dad, whatever you say.”

______________

“Zane?” Garmadon queried, stepping into his room then wanting to step back out with how hot it was. “Did you take the heater from the supply room again? You are prone to overheating you know, even if you can't feel it over the cold.” He says gently, walking over and turning it down to slightly above room temperature.

“It was-s-s-s f-f-f-f-fine.” Zane says from under three comforters.

“It certainly is not if it's messing with your audio output like that.” Garmadon worried, turning the heater off completely now. “You need to cool down before you'll be in need of another repair that could have been prevented. Come sit outside for a while.” He says, only seeing glowing blue eyes from under the heavy blankets.

“Fine.” Zane sighed, knowing better than to argue with him.

When he got into mom mode, there's no escape.

“Only one blanket.” Garmadon says, noticing him attempting to bring all three.

“But-”

“I know you feel cold Zane but the reality of the situation is that the feeling is purely mental. Your body is overheating and it doesn't do do easily. That's saying a lot. Excess heat like that could really hurt you Zane and when one of us ends up hurt, all of us are.” Garmadon says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We're all searching for a way to at least make you feel less cold and we won't stop until we find s way. So until then, we just want you to take care of yourself, ok?” He asked gently and Zane nods once, feeling guilty now.

“Good. And while you cool down, why don't we talk for a little.” Garmadon says, leading him outside with only one blanket around his person.

_______________

“I smell pizza!” Jay yelled, popping up shortly after Zane returned to his room. “Or at least I hope it is and that it's a pile on pizza with every toppings on it with extra cheese of course and not to mention-”

“Stuffed crust?” Garmadon says, opening the box with his atrocious taste in pizza inside.

Jay beamed and rushed over, taking a slice.

“Yum!” Jay hummed after taking a bite.

“Eat up while you can because I'm cooking tonight and you're going to eat your vegetables- and the ones on the pizza don't count.” Garmadon warned and Jay whined. “No whining or buts. This isn't up for debate. You've lost weight and I intend to our it back on you.” He says and Jay thought back.

“Oh yeah! I was working on a project or two I couldn't really pick which idea I wanted to do doesn't so I did them all at once but it didn't work out since the time it takes to work on them unlike the few minutes it takes to take care of Zane since the longer the project,the harder it is to keep focused but-”

“That's all very interesting Jay but I'd like to see you eating as well as talking.” Garmadon says with a dond smile and the freckled brunette nodded, taking another bite out of his pizza.

“Did I tell you about the time…”

________________

“You should reconsider that teashop.” Garmadon says, watching his brother bustle about, adding ingredients to three separate teapots.

“I haven't completely turned down the idea.” Wu says over his shoulder then poured hot water into all three and left the tea to seep. “Right now, I have more important matters to attend to.”

“If anyone can find a cure, I know it'll be Mistaké.” Garmadon says, closing his eyes as he turned away, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“So much faith you have in me brother. It's humbling.” Wu says drily and Garmadon laughs.

“Well, to be fair, she's been at this for longer than you have.” He says to his brother, looking over thr large collection of tea ingredients he had stocked up in his tea room.

“That may be so but her tea skills are chaotic at best. I'd like to think my skills are more refined than hers.” Wu says, grabbing two cups.

“Don't let her hear you say that.” Garmadon huffed amused as Wu fixed them both some tea.

“I'm no fool brother.” Wu chuckled, handing him a cup.

They both drank in comfortable silence for a while.

“I have missed you dearly brother.” He spoke softly and Garmadon smiled at his younger brother.

“And I, you. But the past is the past.”

“And the future is the future.”

_________________

Garmadon hadn't realised that he hadn't popped a single bubble all day until it was too late. He had noticed a controller left on the ground, most likely left by Jay since it was his shade of blue, and had picked it up- only for his powers to flare up and turn the controller into black ash. He gasped, staring down at the remains of the controller in his hand.

“You ok Sensei G?” Garmadon looked across at Kai as he came up the stairs, back from his trip.

“... Yes. Although I'll need to get Jay a new controller.” He sighed, walking over to the closest bin.

“What about me?” Jay asked, walking in then with Zane behind him.

“It appears Sensei Garmadon destroyed your controller on accident.” Zane says, noticing the ash in his hand he dumped.

“Yes. I somehow forgot to take to my bubble wrap.” Garmadon says, dusting his hand off.

“I realised too late.” Lloyd says, walking downstairs with a roll, Cole with him.

“You gotta take care of you too Sensei G.” Nya says, coming upstairs with Sensei Wu.

“Yeah. Don't forget about yourself. You're always so busy looking out for us…” Kai says with a small smile.

“It's our turn to look after you.” Cole says with a grin and Garmadon looked at them all before smiling.

“Well, if you insist…”

____________________

Later on, Garmadon found himself seated with tea and a side of creamy biscuits before him on the coffee table, bubble wrap in hand, his son on his right, his brother on his left and the ninja all seated as close as they could get, talking amongst each other and eating dinner Zane cooked. He hasn't felt so content in a long time. Or ever if he was being honest with himself. He considered himself a lucky man to have such a loving family.

_______________

(*slams fists on table* I live for Garmadad ok. I literally cannot express enough joy and thanks to my brain for spitting this out. I know it's my own fic but this gets all of my UwUs ok. No in depth author's note here. Enjoy the familial bonds and Garmadad!)

[kelleyish]

long lonnnng post

Hello Tumblr.  What’s up.  It’s Thursday.  The first week of June is almost over.  Four days from now would have been Chip’s 48th birthday.  It’s about seven weeks until mine, but I’ll only be 42.  “Only” 42.  A spring chicken, right?

The gym wore me out today.  Some days you drag while you’re getting ready, and even on the walk into the building, but once you get on the warm-up machine you take off.  Today was the opposite of that day.  But it got done.

We’ve been on a three-day-a-week gym schedule for a long time.  We’ve made noises about going just for cardio on additional days, but it hasn’t happened.  Earlier this week I was motivated, and when Dad was feeling under the weather Monday I went on a bike ride.  Tuesday we did our regular gym day, and then yesterday I came *this* close to going on my own for some cardio, even got dressed and everything, and then I ended up skipping it and eating some Sonic mozzarella sticks instead.  They had more carbs than I thought too, oops.  I went over on calories for the day but I also think it’s good to go over every once in a while, to keep your body guessing so it doesn’t think you’re starving all the time.

I take selfies every so often from a straight-on angle, no flattering above-your-head stuff, just to try and judge weight loss.  I took one a couple days ago in the car, waiting to pick my mom up from the train, and I was surprised how thin my face looked.  I’m still not convinced it wasn’t just good lighting.  I had this app where you’re supposed to take a daily selfie and put them all in a stop motion video but I haven’t kept up with that very well.  It’s not that fun when you can’t see a difference day-to-day and they’re ugly pictures to boot.  Plus on the majority of days I haven’t made any effort with hair and makeup at all.

I am still thinking about the guy but my brain has chilled out a little and it’s more abstract now.  But I’ll admit it’s the reason I was a little more motivated this week.  I am ready to feel feelings like that about someone again, but I’ve got to get smaller to have any confidence that someone would return those feelings.  I was plenty chunky when I met Chip, but I was like 220 not 320.  Also I was 18, sigh.

If I ever When I get small enough that a tummy tuck or body lift would be appropriate, I am very ambivalent about whether I’d want to do anything to my boobs.  I am not interested in implants, but I honestly don’t know if I’d want to cut them up for a lift either.  If they didn’t look too different from how they look now, I wouldn’t.  However, drastic weight loss does terrible things to boobs usually, so who knows.  I am, however, prepared to get my upper arms done.  I’m one of those people who carries a lot of weight in their arms (thanks, grandmother!) and I’m going to have huge batwings.

I got called for a market research study this week, and one for next week.  When it rains, it pours - I haven’t had one in over a year, since the week after I got laid off from my job.  The one this week wasn’t super fun, it was about new ad campaigns for a wireless company.  We just answered questions using a keypad, and then a small percentage of people got invited to stay for a longer round-table, but I wasn’t one of them.  So I got my $125 visa gift card and and left.  Next’s week is about movies, so I’m hoping it will be more interesting.

I went shopping for a few new clothes last week.  I had intended to just get maybe one new shirt with my $20 off $20 coupon at Avenue, but of course that’s never how it works.  I ended up spending $100 for 5 shirts.  As is always the case with plus size stores, the larger sizes sell out first and you’re often left with a bunch of stuff in sizes 14-18, because the women who are small enough to fit those sizes are just buying XL’s at regular stores.  ANYway, two of the shirts were workout shirts, and all they had left in larger sizes were the super light pink and peach colors.  I didn’t realize until I got them home how see-thru they were.  I’d tried them on but I was wearing a nude bra that day and my sports bras that I wear to workout are darker.  I ended up calling around to some other locations until I found a store that had the shirts in black and purple.  It happened to be right near where I went for the market research study, and they put the shirts behind the counter for me to pick up.  They were already folded up when I got there, and i didn’t bother to check them.  You can probably see where this is going.  One of the shirts is wayyy too small. It’s mislabeled, even the label that’s printed directly on the fabric.  It says 26/28 but it’s got to be either 18/20 or even 14/16.  If I’d unfolded it and held it up, it would have been obvious.  I am very annoyed, but at this point I don’t want to return them again.  I’m going to continue shrinking anyway, right?  And I will still need a workout shirt when I get down there.

I have picked up writing my smutty stories again.  I only got four published when I fell off it last September.  It’s a lot of work, and it’s hard to be enthusiastic when you don’t see much return.  I was looking at my stats the other day and those four stories have earned me about $36 dollars to date.  The people that really make money at this put out one or two stories a week, and I just can’t write that fast.  But I feel like picking it up again for a while at least, what can it hurt?

This is turning into a marathon post.  Let’s finish up with a talk about my butt!

I’ve had iffy digestion for a few years now.  I’m prone to diarrhea a lot, and it sucks.  This week I’ve decided to try taking some psyllium husk.  It’s a type of fiber that unfortunately turns gelatinous if you don’t drink it quickly enough after mixing it with water.  It’s certainly having an effect, but I’m not sure if I’m fixed yet.  When I go, it’s not been super solid, but it’s been...cleaner?  Even when it’s not diarrhea, my poop can be soft and rather sticky and a mess to clean up after, and the psyllium has fixed the stickiness.  It’s something, I guess.  Every time I mix up a glass, I think about watching my grandfather take his Metamucil at night before bed.  That stuff is about 50% sugar though, and probably tasted a lot better.

(The title of my post is a reference to this series of Japanese candy commercials.  Do yourself a favor if you’ve never seen them.)

[obsidiancorner]

7, 12, 14 for the end of the year fic asks? :)

Hey! Thanks for sending in an ask!“A fic you didn’t expect to write” got long so I’m slapping everything under a cut. 

I’m really WAYYY TOO long-winded. :/

7. Longest completed fic you wrote this year:

I would like to think that Underneath the Satinalia Tree will be done before New Years since it is a Christmas story... Once that sucker is completed, it will by the longest. At present, though, it is Finding Fault. 

12. Favorite character to write about this year:

I LOVE Skyrah. I’ve written her story more or less out of order, so I have bits of Awakenings, Origins, and Inquisition Skyrah all down and my fave of the three is Inquisition Sky. In Inquisition, she has become fairly hardened through her time as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and through the decisions of a couple significant men in her life and watching her deal with the Warden bullshit involved in Inquisition has been interesting as all get-out. 

I love that woman. 

14. A fic you didn’t expect to write:

Ironically, the only one I had originally *expected* to write was “Battlefields” but I tore it down for a slew of reasons. So the one I intended to write is actually no longer in existence but I have four others now. 

Finding Fault was the one that caught me by surprise and is still my most liked and commented on fic on AO3. It’s not great... but it isn’t bad for only a second attempt. 

I Must Ask was prompted by a random post that found it’s way onto my dash. I reblogged it because I thought it was cute (it talked of wondering when Cullen realized that he wanted to ask the Inquisitor to marry him). From there, I got smacked with a small little one-shot. It’s only, like, 790 words or so... but it’s there. 

Blighted Love has yet to be shared outside the “Forgotten” Prologue and miscellaneous asks because I only have 1 full chapter done on it... and even that needs reworked. I don’t like one of the conversations within chapter 1. But that one hit me after Rob bought me Origins (I hadn’t played it since ‘09-’10) and I went through with an Amell character. I had forgotten how much the Alistair breakup hurt and loved that character so much I wanted to give her a happy ending. What better way to  do that than send her back to Cullen after they had both had time to grow up and become someone outside of their mage/templar backgrounds? 

Underneath the Satinalia Tree was one that I simply up and decided to do one day when I was looking at Christmas-themed prompt lists. I found a list I liked that had several I thought could be worked into a cute little short chapter story. It will probably only have 4 chapters and I am trying to get Chapter 2 finished so I can post it either tonight or tomorrow. :) But my goal is to have it done by the New Year. 

Thanks again for the ask!!!

[showmethedestiel]

Like I said; I don’t like Hospitals

Chapter Nine

[Masterlist]

Summary:  You help Misha while he’s going through a hard time. The two of you quickly become friends, but will it lead to something more in such trying circumstances?

Words: 1,326

Pairing: Misha/Reader

Warnings:  Warning: Kinda smut? Like it doesn't go into super detail - but it's... It's smut.

It’s strange, how quickly you’ve gotten used to waking up next to small, squirming bodies.

“Maison, do you wanna come down to have some breakfast?” You hear Misha whisper.

“I’m gonna wait here ‘till Y/N…” She mumbles.

“You’re gonna wait here until when?”

“Y/N wakes up.”

“Oh I don’t think Y/N’s ever gonna wake up.” Misha replies, making you giggle.

You do decide to stay in bed a little longer than usual that morning, because Misha seems to be dealing with the kids and it’s been a while since you’ve relaxed.

When you get out of bed, you go downstairs and find Misha desperately trying to stop West breaking some vases with a spoon.

You lean against the doorframe, quietly observing the scene.

“West, those are glass; don’t hit them with a wooden stick – do not hit them with a wooden stick…”  You jump forward just in time to catch the vase before it hits the floor.

“Morning Y/N, we were just talking about the criminal justice system and how that correlates with cereal.” Misha smiles.

“Naturally.” You reply, putting the vase back on the table.

“You want any breakfast?”

“Mm,” You hum, wandering over and folding your arms to rest on Misha’s shoulders. “I’m good. I think I’m gonna head to the store, pick up a few things for dinner.”

“Okay, would you mind picking up my suit from Jensen on the way?”

“Why does Jensen have your suit?” You ask incredulously.

Misha waves you off, “Long story.”

You make Misha’s old room up for Sasha and Claire.

The next morning you wake up to a cold, drizzly Monday. You dress in a long, black dress with black heels, putting your hair up into a messy bun.

The car journey to the burial site is solemn and quiet. In a way it’s unfortunate that the kids are old enough to understand the depth and significance of something like this.

Misha pulls up along-side a long procession of cars, and the four of you get out – you carrying Maison and West on Misha’s shoulders.

You follow Misha over to the casket; your rain-damp hair sticking to your face. Maison is grabbing your shoulder so tightly it hurts; pacifier in her mouth, her big, blue eyes wide and frightened.

Halfway through the service, it’s Misha’s turn to speak. He stands from the white plastic chairs, pulling a piece of paper – the words on which are already getting smudged by the rain - out of his jacket pocket as he makes his way to the front.

He unfolds it with shaky hands; his hot breath steaming in the cool air.

After a moment of collecting himself, he looks up from the words on the page, taking a deep breath. “As you all know, Vicki Vantoch was an amazing woman. She was, beautiful, intelligent, funny, ingenious and crazy, and that doesn’t even begin to sum her up. I had known Vicki for twenty six years, three months and twelve days when she died.” His voice cracks. “And those twenty six years, three months and twelve days, will always, to me, be infinitely more complete; more liveable with her in this world – and before three weeks ago a world without her laugh and her soul was unfathomable and even today it still seems so surreal to be without her passion.” His voice is shaking, so he takes a steadying breath before continuing. “Vicki was my rock; there were times that the only thing in this universe to bring me solace was the sound of her voice, and I know she was so fundamental to the lives of so many others too. I will love her forever, and a day will not go by I don’t think about her. Her life was so full of vibrant passion, love and madness, and I’m sure if anyone brings that to any kind of afterlife – it would be her. To Vicki.” He raises his glass and the assembly of sniffling guests echoes his action.

When he sits back down he takes your hand tightly in yours, his eyes staring with intense sorrow into the distance.

The kids go with Darius to Vicki’s parents that night to spend some time with their grandparents, leaving the house to you and Misha.

“Can we just order some takeout or something so we don’t have to cook?” Misha asks from the driver’s seat.

“Sure, what do you wanna get?”

“There’s a good Chinese nearby.”

“Okay.”

You and Misha curl up on the couch in the dim light of some candles, eating chicken chow-mein.

“How are you doing?” You ask, taking a mouthful of noodles.

Misha nods slowly. “I’m doing okay. Considering.” He sighs and frowns, “Today was tough.”

“I know it was.” You say sincerely, snaking your arm around his waist. “You did so well though; I think you made everyone cry.”

Misha chuckles slightly before sobering. “Except for me.”

You rest you head on his shoulder, staying silent.

Misha puts down his food and turns to face you. “Hey.” He says softly. “Thanks for being there today.”

You smile, “You’re welcome.” You say, leaning in to kiss him.

This time the kiss becomes heated and you don’t try to stop him; you don’t pull away. You lie back on the couch, Misha above you – your hands carding through his hair. He ruts against you gently and you moan against his lips, feeling his obvious arousal pressing into your thigh.

He breaks away, panting with dilated pupils and messy hair; grinning.

“Hey,” He says again, lower this time, before sitting up to straddle you and taking his shirt off in one fluid motion.

You raise an eyebrow; impressed – and paw at his belt buckle. He smirks and undoes it, sliding his belt out of the loops and tossing it casually to the side.

You shimmy out of your pajama top, exposing your braless chest to Misha; who smirks and leans back down to pepper kisses across your collarbone and down your neck.

Panting, you ask “Do you… Have any condoms?”

Misha doesn’t move his lips from your skin, “Do you trust me?”

“Well yeah, but… I’m not on the pill or anything. Clara and I didn’t exactly have to worry.”

His lips still and he groans, sitting up. “I don’t have any,” He whines, “We used an implant. Fuck.” He looks crushed.

Suddenly something in your brain clicks. “Maison!” You yell, grinning elatedly.

Misha looks at you like you’re crazy. “What?”

“Maison!” You repeat, though he’s clearly not getting it. You wriggle out from under him. “Ages ago, Maison snuck some condoms past the checkout – you told me!”

Misha’s face lights up with remembrance. “Your brain works at weird times.” He laughs, standing. “But you’re right – I’ll go get them.”

“Shall we move this upstairs?” You ask once Misha comes back with the condoms.

“After you m’lady.” He says, following you to your room.

Once you’re inside you lie together, just smiling sweetly.  

Of course, soon it’s back to hot and passionate, and Misha’s on top of you, head in the crook of your neck, moving tenderly.

All of a sudden you feel something damp against your skin. “Misha?” You ask, concerned.

He raises his head so you can see his face; the tears falling down his cheeks.

Your eyes go wide, “Misha, what’s wrong?”

“It’s… It’s just emotional.” He laughs, shaking his head in embarrassment.

“So you’re okay?” You ask, bringing a hand up and smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone, smudging away the tears.

He nods. “Yeah, sorry; this probably isn’t how you expected this to go.” He chuckles, but there’s an anxious undertone.

“As long as you’re okay, this is perfect.” You say with sincerity.

Misha smiles and drops his head down to capture you lips in a loving kiss.

You both end up sweaty and naked; entangled with the sheets and with each other. You fall asleep exchanging lazy kisses and giggling.

It’s beautiful.

Chapter Ten

A/N: It’s kinda freakin’ killing me to write this, man, like I just transcribed a beautiful moment with Vicki and inserted myself into it?? I’m getting like physical guilt from writing Vicki’s eulogy fuck. But the thing is I didn’t want to gloss over her death because as I say, I’m trying to keep this semi true to life, and at least make an effort to pay homage to the their family in the story. (I’m wayyy overthinking this). So, don’t expect too much more sad Vicki stuff because it’s killer to write (no pun intended). Anyway, enjoy. 

-B