#or else they put shit that I can't get on it so I have to make up stuff anyways

[liaculpa]

Well shit, this hit me like a brick to the face.

I've always been terrible at asking for and accepting help, or feeling like I'm worth helping in the first place. I always just assumed that when people said "if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know" when I was going through hell, it was just a figure of speech. I never took anyone's offer for help when I lost my dad, or when I was stuck in a depressive hell for years. People reached out, and I just said "thanks, but I'm fine" because their time was obviously better spent elsewhere. I wasn't gonna die without their help, I didn't NEED need it. But it would have helped me, and I never felt like I deserved that.

My mom once said to me that I deserved a better kitchen table than the piece of crap my dad used as his computer desk for 10 years, that I took after he died. I told her I didn't need one; what did she mean, I deserve it? What had I done to warrant that? I couldn't really wrap my head around it.

It's still true today. I have some money, I could get decent furniture. I still have that old table sitting next to me right now, covered in a cheap tablecloth so you can't see all the dents and scratches. I just never feel like there's a point to buying it, if it's just for me. What have I done to deserve something nice and new?

At least I'm taking better care of my body. That's kind of the one thing I want to keep. Since I came out, I've been putting actual effort into my skin, my hair, how I dress. I want to sculpt this shitty meat sack until my mirror shows the woman I know I am. But for everything else, it's just hard. I want to improve, but it's so hard to get past those mental hurdles. It's so hard to convince my stupid brain that I can accept help, whether it's from a friend or even myself.

Something to work on.

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation. the goal, for them, was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-deprivation that so many of us learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

[johanna-swann]

Okay, but how about an angsty thanksgiving intervention? They have a friendsgiving thingy a couple of days before or after the actual holiday at the Madney house. I imagine Maddie, Chim, Hen, Karen, all their kids and Buck are there. Eddie is in El Paso for the holiday and Bobby and Athena are busy with something else, idk. (I feel like having Bobby there would prevent a lot of the drama, so for reasons he can't be there.)

But Chimney (with Maddie's approval) also invites Tommy - except Tommy doesn't know this is a family event [tm], he thinks Chim just invited him over to hang out. Drink some beer, watch a movie maybe.

And Tommy thinks: "I should probably go, Howie's been my friend for almost 20 years now. I can handle hanging out with an old friend for a night, even if he happens to me ex's brother-in-law. It'll be good for me." But he's completely and utterly unprepared and not ready to run into Buck again so soon, much less in a context that oh so loudly screams "family" and thus represents everything Tommy always wanted and never had. It's an ocean's worth of salt in a fresh wound.

Buck on the other hand doesn't know Tommy's coming to the friendsgiving either. He just prepared a shit ton of food and figured spending time with his family will be a good distraction from the break-up. He hasn't hung out with Hen and Karen in a while and he's looking forward to having all the kids around. Who can mope about a stupid ex when the noise is drowned out by giggling and laughing children running around?

Chim and Maddie hoped that their plan might help Buck and Tommy to at least find some closure or maybe even get them talking to each other again. Either way, at least everyone gets a good, home-cooked meal and some quality time with friends out of it, right?

But then they're suddenly and unexpectedly confronted with each other when neither of them is ready. Buck has barely begun to even process the break-up. Let's be honest, the baking thing has been more of a distraction from thinking about Tommy than a coping mechanism to work through his feelings. He's still a little bit in denial and Tommy crashing his safe-space catapults him into the anger/depression stage.

Tommy could've dealt with a movie night with Chim, could've even coped with having Maddie and Jee-Yun there, but an entire ass family holiday? Avoiding eye contact, forcing smiles, faking normal for hours while pretending he isn't still putting the pieces of his own heart back together? Knowing he will go home alone with the fresh reminder of what he will never truly have and get to keep?

So Tommy awkwardly excuses himself and maybe Buck throws in a bitter: "Yeah, leave. You're good at that." And maybe in an attempt to de-escalate - or at least move the escalation out of earshot from the kids - Maddie suggests they talk outside. But outside they just stare at each other, not knowing what to say. Tommy apologises again, saying he'll just leave and let Buck enjoy the evening.

"It's fine", Buck says: "I think I'll leave too, actually." And Tommy lays into him about how he shouldn't spend the holiday alone when he can just go back inside and be with his family, he shouldn't be sitting in his empty loft when he could play with Jee-Yun or catch up with Karen instead.

Buck finally gets angry about what happened, but he hasn't put his thoughts in order yet, can't put into words what he feels yet. He also feels ambushed and a wee bit manipulated. So he just bites out: "Oh right, I forgot. You're the expert on what I should and shouldn't be doing. God forbid I decide for myself what I want", walks over to his car and drives off.

Tommy sits in his car for a little bit, then he goes home too. Maddie and Chimney feel bad. After they tried to encourage Buck to move on a bit too soon, they overcorrected in the opposite direction and it blew up in their faces. Maddie tries to call Buck, but he's turned off his phone. Chimney tries to reach out to Tommy, but his text sits there delivered, unread and stays unanswered.

Tommy ends up sitting on his couch, crying and staring at the tv which he hasn't even bothered to turn on and Buck spends hours pacing in his kitchen, alternating between wanting to yell at Tommy for breaking up with him in the first place and deleting his number so he'll never even be tempted to talk to him again.

So they all end up spending the friendsgiving evening in varying degrees of misery.

(Maddie, Chimney and Buck patch things up almost immediately. They bring him breakfast the next morning and apologise for springing this on him without warning. He accepts the apology, he knows they meant well and it was actually a nice thing that they tried to include Tommy despite the break-up. He wants Tommy to be happy. Really, he wants Tommy to find whatever he thinks Buck couldn't give him. He hopes Tommy one day finds a man who won't make him run the opposite direction. He wants Tommy to feel good about himself and to have a life full of friends and family and people who he can call his. Eventually. Right now, he admits, he selfishly wants Tommy to feel a bit shit. He hopes Tommy is hurting at least as much as he is. He hopes Tommy's favourite basketball team loses every game of the season. He hopes one of Tommy's coworkers says the q-word and jinxes them for a full 24 hours shift. Buck doesn't know when he started crying, but Chim and Maddie are there for him and they spend most of the day together.)

(Chimney also apologises to Tommy. They don't really talk about it, Tommy doesn't want to. He'd rather listen to Howie gush about becoming a dad again, talk about the next pick-up game and ignore the elephant in the room. It's easy to slip back into the casual friendship, the conversations that are full of movie dialogues and references, the bragging and comparing of batshit calls they've worked in the past 20 years. They don't hang out at Howie's house, they either go to Tommy's or meet at a bar. But Tommy is relieved he at least got to keep this.)

(Buck and Tommy run into each other again a few weeks later. It's the second christmas day, Buck is invited to hang out with the Diaz family. Christopher has agreed to come to LA for a week - a trial run of sorts to help him and Eddie figure out what comes next - and they're all going to spend the day at tía Pepa's. Buck is picking up some groceries on his way there and who does he meet in the canned foods isle? Buck doesn't really know what comes over him, but he suggest they should hang out together while Chris and Eddie are here. All four of them. Eddie was Tommy's friend before they ever went out after all and so was Chimney. Plus, they're all firefighters. They're bound to run into each other again sooner or later, it'd be childish to be hung up on the past. Tommy says yes.)

(They start talking to each other more after that. Not very often, not consistently, not about their break-up. But they talk. It starts with texting and hanging out in group settings. Then the phone calls start. At first just small ones, "it'll be quicker than texting" calls, "I'm ellbows deep in foccacia dough" and "broke my hand on call yesterday, so quite literally can't text" calls. Then they start hanging out one on one again. Neither of them has ever stayed friends with an ex before. Is it supposed to feel like this? Is Tommy's laugh still supposed to make Buck's heart skip a beat like this? Is Evan's soft smile still supposed to melt Tommy's insides like this?)

(They get back together in March. It's not preceded by a big and dramatic event. There's no "life or death" situation, no traumatic incident to make them realise that "tomorrow isn't promised, no awkward jealousy over a new partner. It's just another movie nigh. Buck falls asleep with his head on Tommy's shoulder and Tommy doesn't even think about it before running his fingers through Evan's curls. Buck wakes up as the credits start rolling. He shifts a little, looks up at Tommy, but he doesn't move away. The kiss is soft and chaste and they leave it at that one kiss. Buck doesn't move to the bedroom with Tommy, but he does crash on Tommy's couch. They talk in the morning. They talk about being all in but taking it slow anyway, they talk about crushes and admiration and love and the difference between all three, they finally talk about the break-up. They keep it a secret for a little while. Call it precaution or payback for Chimney's attempt at meddling.)

(They make it three weeks. Then Tommy surprises Buck at his loft and they forget that not only was Eddie supposed to come over, Eddie also has his own key. They never live it down for as long as they're alive.)

[cheshiresense]

I’m loving all the parts of your Ichigo & Starrk time travel AU! This is a bit random and would take place some time down the road but I had a thought that Starrk probably still has the scars from when Shunsui almost killed him rigjt? So I was wondering if some combination of TBTP!Shunsui recognizing the kind of blades that would’ve left those scars (his zanpakutou is pretty unique after all) and maybe Katen Kyokotsu sensing her own “mark” on Starrk would result in Shunsui guessing a few things if he sees those scars. Or maybe it’s at a point in the timeline where Starrk and Ichigo have already revealed the time travel thing to a few people but not many details and Shunsui ends up putting more pieces together on his own.

Ooh yesss I do love a good scar reveal. For a scene like this, I'd prob go with the second scenario. I imagine Starrk's a pretty private person and also not one to be stripping down in front of just anyone lmao so there has to be a good enough reason. (I actually have a different ready-made one that would fit a time travel reveal scene that I've already hinted at previously but I think I'll write that another time, so we're going to use this one instead.)

This would take place maybe a year or two down the road, and because Shinigami elites are generally not idiots (most of the time), especially the ones Starrk and Ichigo have grown close to, I imagine Shunsui, Ukitake, Shinji, and Kaien (and prob Lisa) have pooled their observations and guessed that Starrk and Ichigo are from the future and have Experienced Some Shit, possibly under Aizen, possibly under some other major big bad that was bad enough to necessitate time travel. And time travel's hardly something just anybody can throw around so most likely there's some divine intervention involved. And once they've come to these conclusions, they decide enough is enough, leaving the fate of Soul Society and possibly the universe on two people who look like they're running themselves ragged trying to save them all is ridiculous. If nothing else, they're friends and family, and it's not right to just leave that burden to them.

I'm also going to throw Kisuke into this group because 1) Kisuke's observant as fuck and Ichigo's actually really bad at staying away from this one mad scientist who created him and weaponized him and pointed him at the enemy but also followed right after him because to Kisuke, Ichigo is everything from moral compass to magnum opus to greatest sin to the person he owes everything to, and he'd more or less handed over his entire soul into Ichigo's possession very early on. So even a hundred years in the past was never going to prevent Kisuke from gravitating to Ichigo who doesn't flinch from him or his reputation and looks at him like he's more than just a Rukon street rat turned assassin turned Shinigami in a captain trenchcoat who has no idea how to be a captain on a good day. (And everybody knows that once Ichigo is attached to you, it's all over, you're never going to be rid of him again, and more than anything, Kisuke has always just wanted someone to want him to stay.)

And 2), there's no better place for secret meetings than the Study Chamber under the Soukyoku Hill, Aizen doesn't know about it, and the Quincy might but with the place buried under enough seals to avoid all detection and probably withstand a siege, even they can't get in to spy. I want to say Kisuke and Yoruichi are a package deal so she should be around, but I also headcanon that they sort of drifted apart for a while after Yoruichi forced Kisuke out of the Second and onto the captaincy doorstep (which made the fact that she threw her whole life and career away when Kisuke was accused of treason that much more meaningful tbh). So for now she's not around, but she does still hang out with Kuukaku, and while it is very helpful that all these people are regular guests at the Shiba compound so nobody is going to get suspicious if this particular group is absent together from time to time because people would just assume they're holed up at the Shibas' for another party or something, Yoruichi is going to notice sooner or later that they're very much not at the compound when they're missing, so she goes looking for whatever fuckery Kisuke has gotten up to this time, and that'll be her way into this time travel adventure, so to speak.

But all of this is actually just to say, healing hot springs for the win, you gotta be naked in a Japanese onsen lmao and guess who's about to have a midnight rendezvous 😉 let's all thank Urahara Kisuke for reinventing such a convenient trope.

-0-

It's nearing two in the morning, and after the staggering revelations earlier, everyone is asleep.

It wasn't as if they hadn't already expected the time travel, but to have it confirmed, and to know now that the reason for it had been the near-total annihilation of all three realms at the hands of a race nursing a thousand-year-old grudge, one thought to be largely extinct but has actually been hiding in their walls - almost literally - and biding their time until their king's awakening--well, let's just say Shunsui isn't going to be able to walk down a street without wondering how many hidden eyes are watching him from the shadows until the Wandenreich has at least been dug out of the woodwork for all to see.

(It's also perhaps a little more… off-putting for him than the others, though perhaps that's his pride speaking. Shadows are supposed to be his domain, and yet he's never sensed anything amiss in all the long years he's lived in the Seireitei.)

There had at least not been too much of a fuss about bringing them into the loop. Shunsui had admittedly thought they would have to at least argue back and forth about it a few more times, if only because no matter how much Ichigo likes to deny it, the family resemblance is uncanny, whether in appearance or personality, and a Shiba is nothing if not stubborn once they've set their mind on something. Ichigo is exactly the type to refuse outside aid in the name of better protecting the people he cares about, has yet to understand that ignorance does not always mean safe, or outgrow that inexplicably instinctual mindset of his where he seems to believe that he must take on all burdens by himself instead of allowing others to help shoulder those burdens with him.

But then they'd confronted the boy, and while Ichigo had scowled up a storm and tried to bluster his way out of it at first - kid really is a terrible liar - he'd also capitulated far sooner than any of them had expected. In the end, he'd crossed his arms and scowled some more before deciding with the finality of someone who wouldn't budge any further, "Fine, but we wait for Starrk-san."

He'd smirked at them then, still displeased considering the topic of conversation, but vaguely triumphant nonetheless as he'd eyed Urahara and Hirako and Kaien in particular. "It's why you cornered me when you know Starrk-san's out on a mission and isn't due back 'til late, right? Cuz you think you might be able to wear me down by nagging me to death, or worse comes to worst, you can figure it out by watching my reactions. But you won't get anything out of Starrk-san if he doesn't want to say, and he's hard to read even when he's actively emoting."

He'd snorted then, mockery softened by a reluctant sort of mirth. "Joke's on you, he's the reasonable one."

Which, to be fair, had been Shunsui's opinion. Starrk really is frustratingly, delightfully difficult to read, and this is coming from Shunsui, who's always found most people easy enough to figure out at a glance. Case in point, most of the things they'd pieced together for themselves had been clues Ichigo had inadvertently given away, not Starrk. And even then, if Starrk doesn't want them to know, no matter how many well-reasoned conjectures they lay at his feet, he probably wouldn't say a word.

But by that same token, it must mean that the hints he'd started dropping over the past few months could only be his way of encouraging them to ask without directly giving the game away, without giving them any hard evidence or firsthand testimony that would condemn himself or Ichigo, just in case the people they've chosen to trust fail their expectations and choose to hand them over to the government instead of trusting them in return.

To Shunsui, that had basically been an open invitation to sit down for a chat, and Ukitake had agreed with him, but they'd been outvoted - sometimes, he thinks with some amusement that the younger members of their little group don't seem to have eyes for anyone except Ichigo - so he'd let it go since he'd thought there wouldn't be any major issues with trying it this way first either. After all, he doubts Starrk would've shown his hand without Ichigo's agreement. It's just that they'd probably have to jump through a few more hoops if they went to Ichigo, what with the kid's knee-jerk reflex for keeping them at a distance no matter the cost to himself. And he'd been correct, more or less. It's just that they'd had fewer hoops to jump through than Shunsui had anticipated, but he's hardly about to complain.

"My plan was to force Aizen to out himself somehow and then take him down in front of everyone," Ichigo had continued, oblivious to the dawning look of horror on his cousin's face at the sheer lack of regard Ichigo clearly had for his own wellbeing, or possibly for the excessive margin of error implied in every sentence. "And then, you know, hopefully do the same for the Quincy, although I guess they'd be harder to draw out, so maybe we would've had to go to them? But anyway, Starrk-san's the one who's been saying practically from the beginning that we need more people."

He'd made a face then, reminiscent of children everywhere who'd been lectured by a parent for doing something potentially reckless and stupid, but there'd been a grumpy sort of acceptance there too that had lent maturity to his features.

"'Wars can't be won alone,'" Ichigo had audibly quoted with a rueful sort of twist to his mouth, as much to himself as to them. "'And this is their home. If they want to fight for it, let them fight. They're strong enough to make a difference. Besides, there's nothing worse than only being able to stand by helplessly while something you love disappears in front of you.'" He'd huffed and scrubbed a hand over his face, and then he'd just looked tired. "Well, he's not wrong."

He'd looked at them all again, gaze firm. "So if you really wanna do this, fine, but we wait for Starrk-san."

They'd waited. It wasn't as if anyone had actually wanted to exclude the man anyway, couldn't even if they did since he and Ichigo were clearly a package deal. And Shunsui's of the opinion that anybody who can consistently convince Ichigo to stop and look around and realize he isn't as alone as he often seems to believe is someone Shunsui definitely wants onside.

Ichigo had told them that Starrk had been expecting a confrontation sooner or later, and there were only so many places for it to happen if they didn't want anyone else finding out, so if Starrk got back and found their shared apartment empty, he would know to check here.

Sure enough, an hour after, a reiatsu signature - usually so carefully tucked away but one that Shunsui had pressed into his own memory from the very first time he'd had the chance to really feel it - had flared politely right outside the door before wisping away to nothing again, and a moment after Urahara had flashed away to let him in, Starrk had ghosted in, still in his Shihakushou with the wooden case containing his Zanpakutou slung over one shoulder and an exhausted air about him, but the silver-blue gaze he'd swept over them had momentarily felt like the fangs of a beast locked around their throats.

He'd looked to Ichigo, who'd grimaced but nodded, some wordless conversation passing between them, and only then had all those predatory edges been folded away again, leaving only the quiet unassuming man people still barely looked twice at despite the fact that he'd graduated with honours just as impressive as Ichigo's had been, and had even been promoted to lieutenant on Unohana's personal recommendation straight out of the Academy. But most Shinigami saw Fourth Division and looked no further, blind to the power concealed behind Starrk's reserved apathy.

(In contrast, restlessness had stirred beneath Shunsui's skin at the sight. He'd wanted to feel that reiatsu again, to taste the corrosive bite of it against the endless abyss of his own, to revel in the reminder that neither of them could overwhelm the other. He'd wanted to see more of the wolf lurking behind Starrk's eyes too, wanted this man to know he had no need to hide any part of it, not from Shunsui, not when he had the same kind of monster residing in his own soul. But that was all still too much, too soon, and so he'd locked it all behind his teeth once more, waiting for the day he wouldn't have to anymore.)

Starrk had sighed and run a gloved hand over his mouth before wandering over to join them. "Alright, let's talk. What do you want to know?"

That had been five hours ago. The conversation had lasted until midnight before they'd all decided to retire for the night and continue in the morning.

(Ichigo had looked positively agonized at the prospect. Starrk hadn't looked much of anything, mainly because he'd been half-asleep - or doing an excellent job at pretending to be - for a good hour and a half by that point.)

They'd opted to stay in the Study Chamber. Urahara had had more than enough futons to go around, thick enough that they wouldn't feel the ground underneath, and there were bathroom facilities and even a kitchenette included in a sectioned off corner. He and Yoruichi had certainly outdone themselves.

Urahara in particular. He'd invited them to use his hot spring too if they wished - a derivative of Kirinji Tenjirou's very own hot springs, less effective and fast-acting than the originals, only able to speed up recovery, but also far less dangerous - perfect for soaking in after a tough spar or a hard day or anything that results in moderately serious injuries. A veritable work of art.

Still, Shunsui had been more preoccupied with the way Starrk's eyes had lingered on the hot spring even as they'd all headed off to eat something and wash up before going to bed. In that split-second moment, the normally inscrutable man had looked adorably like a cat with a patch of sunlight. It shouldn't have been so attractive, but Shunsui had found himself unspeakably charmed all the same.

Ten minutes after everyone else's reiryoku had levelled out with deep slumber, and Shunsui had likewise tamped down on his own and smoothed it out to mimic sleep, he'd heard the faint rustle of Starrk's futon being pulled back, and then the whisper of footsteps padding their way towards the hot spring.

A better man than Shunsui would probably not have followed. But if that had ever been an option, he'd thrown it out the window from the first time he'd almost drowned in the shattered devastation of Starrk's soul and still decided to go after him.

He'd known since they'd met that there was some kind of connection between himself and Starrk.

He'd known for nearly as long that something about himself made Starrk uncomfortable, at best, and hurt him on a soul-deep level at worst.

He'd known with every interaction they'd had after that - every moment Shunsui could spare to track him down without making it seem too obvious that he was doing it on purpose - that Starrk wanted him to stay away just as much as he wanted him to stay, and Shunsui had taken shameless advantage because he himself had also been unable to do anything less, because he'd looked at this man and the desolate void inside him and couldn't bear to leave him alone.

(Because every moment with Starrk had filled something in Shunsui's own heart that he hadn't even known had been missing until Starrk had slotted into his life so neatly, so easily, that it had felt like he was always meant to be there.)

And he'd known for months, ever since time travel had become the most likely explanation for Starrk and Ichigo's origins, that there was no way Starrk hadn't known him in another life, and known him well, because that was the only thing that explained it all with perfect, horrifying sense.

A better man than Shunsui would not have followed, would've given him space. But a better man wouldn't have reduced someone's heart to a grief-stricken ruin either, cut so deep that it had carved that anguish straight into their very soul, so Shunsui figures that since a future version of himself has already sunk about as low as he possibly can, he might as well keep going and see if there's anything at all that he can do to fix what another him - still him, in the end, with a mere hundred years and change between them - has so clearly, carelessly, cruelly broken.

One of the things that had been revealed earlier had been Ichigo's background, because they'd all noticed the flashes of Quincy and Hollow in his reiatsu. Kaien had broken three sake cups and almost Urahara's face, and even by the end, he'd still looked murderous enough that Shunsui had almost pitied Shiba Isshin's foreseeable future. But Ichigo's ancestry had led to Starrk's, whose reiatsu may be as inherently dangerous as Shunsui's but has never read as anything less than perfectly Shinigami. They'd all been curious for a while, because Starrk was the kind of old and powerful that very few people could get to, and none that could and still remain unknown for so long, but there'd also been no Coyote Starrk in the Gotei 13 until this version who'd time-travelled had arrived in the Seireitei.

Starrk hadn't beaten around the bush. He'd pulled open the front of his Shihakushou and bared the web of scars below his collarbones, slightly branched out but thick and concentrated over his sternum in a distinctly circular mass.

"I'm not a Shinigami," He'd said calmly, plainly.

"You kind of are," Ichigo had mused, even as he'd glowered death eyes at them all when Starrk wasn't looking.

Starrk had shaken his head. "There's no name for what I am. I just evolved enough to fix my own soul."

He'd placed a hand over the scarring, and his gaze became distant enough that Shunsui's hands had twitched with the urge to reach out, even while the others had gaped, visibly shocked because it's one thing to have a soul like Ichigo's, one ultimately man-made, cobbled together from hope and desperation and a scientist's gamble; it's another entirely to realize that Shinigami have perhaps been looking at Hollows the wrong way for as long as any of them have existed.

(Because all Hollows are ultimately the product of the Shinigami's failure to save them in time, though most don't view it that way anymore, if they ever have. Because the possibility of a Hollow saving themselves has never even been a thought exercise in anyone's mind.)

Shunsui hadn't cared. No, that wasn't entirely correct. He'd been just as stunned as the others at this revelation that overturned millennia's worth of ironclad beliefs. But he'd been far, far more perturbed by what he could see of a second scar on Starrk's chest that bisected the circular one, faded just enough to indicate that it wasn't a very recent injury, but still deep and ragged and vivid enough to show how lethal it had been, how fatal, and-

And Shunsui had seen enough- dealt enough damage with his Zanpakutou to know the kind of wounds his blades left in their wake. And as if that wasn't enough, Katen had murmured in his mind, terrible and possessive and ruthlessly final, "Yes, his is a life we claimed for ourselves."

Shunsui had been almost relieved when Starrk had blinked back into the present and pulled his Shihakushou back on properly before continuing in a sedate tone, "We concluded that this is the final step for a Hollow, that they're allowed a chance to become whole again. It's just that even the strongest Hollows usually only survive for a few hundred years before something kills them, or they just don't have the power levels to climb that high, especially in the time they have."

He'd smiled then, but there'd been no humour in his expression, only infinite emptiness. "I survived, and I'm strong. So I guess this was my prize."

Nobody had really known what to say about all that, though Urahara had done an admirable job of recovering, and then an even more admirable job of pretending he didn't immediately want to whip out one piece of equipment or another and start scanning Starrk for data. They'd moved the conversation back to more information on the Quincy instead, although there would definitely be more questions in the future. But it'd been a lot to take in, and everybody had needed time to digest.

Now, hours later, Shunsui waits a bit before getting up as well and quietly making his way to the hot spring. He isn't surprised when he finds Starrk already rising from the water and reaching for a towel, evidently prepared to leave.

"Don't go," Shunsui says before he can think better of it, and he doesn't mean it as a demand or order, but he doesn't take it back either when Starrk goes still, water sluicing off of him - all tanned wet skin and strong shoulders and lean muscle for miles and now is really not the time - half turned away, and it's only because of that that even with the steam, Shunsui notices the conspicuous scar left by a stab wound in Starrk's back, just left of the spine.

This time, he doesn't need Katen to say anything at all.

Perhaps he'd dropped his conscience in a ditch on his way here, because he repeats, can't stop himself from repeating, "Don't go. I don't mean to chase you away. It's more than big enough for the both of us, isn't it?"

He pauses, reaches for a hat he'd left behind on his futon, and settles for shrugging out of his clothes instead. "…I'll stay on this side."

He slides into the water and forces himself to wait. When Starrk slowly sinks back into the hot spring, Shunsui very carefully doesn't react to that either.

The silence that settles over them is less tense than one might expect. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Starrk slumps against the edge of the hot spring, eyelids drooping. He has his hair tied back in a bun to keep it out of the water, and it's rare enough that Shunsui can't help taking a few extra looks.

Then again, that's nothing new. Starrk has always drawn his eye. Ukitake likes laughing at him for it.

"Does it bother you?" Starrk speaks up abruptly, unexpected enough that Shunsui almost startles. "That I'm a Hollow."

Shunsui wants to say that this man is so far from everything he'd ever thought even the most advanced Hollows could be that a part of him simply can't reconcile the disconnect. The rest of him…

"You're the same person now as you were before you told us what you are," He points out. "I don't think anything else matters."

Blue-grey eyes slit open, not quite looking in Shunsui's direction, not quite not, expression utterly indecipherable.

"…Did my future self think differently?" Shunsui ventures, but that can't be right. He can't imagine any version of himself who would think that way, especially one who'd lived even longer than he has. Still, his mind flashes back to the scars on Starrk's body, hidden beneath the water now but seared into Shunsui's memory like a brand, and he can't help coming up with increasingly depressing scenarios.

But Starrk blinks, and his focus finally hones in on Shunsui, genuinely surprised, and Shunsui releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"No," Starrk says after a beat of studying him with that too-perceptive gaze. "You've apparently always been more open-minded than most." He cocks his head. "But you were staring, so I thought…"

I always stare at you, haven't you noticed? Shunsui wants to blurt out, but he swallows it down with only a little effort. Too much, too soon.

After tonight's revelations, after all the speculations he's pieced together bit by bit over the past few months about their past-future relationship, maybe it will always be too soon. But Shunsui's never been in the habit of admitting defeat without even trying, and this time is no different.

"Something is bothering you though," Starrk tacks on, still watching Shunsui through narrowed eyes, and Shunsui wonders if the man realizes how much he looks like he's stalking prey in moments like this.

It should be unsettling, being on the receiving end of such a gaze, and it is, a little, but Shunsui's grown used to it too, grown to appreciate it even, to the feeling of being seen, of being known, and still being wanted.

(Because that's the one thing that's never been in question. Because however much Starrk sometimes reacts like Shunsui's very existence pains him, or how much he sometimes makes Shunsui feel completely bare, every sin and secret laid out for judgement, he's also never looked at Shunsui with anything less than the sort of quiet devotion the tide holds for the moon, or the stars for the sky, or dawn for the horizon, steadfast and eternal. Is it any wonder Shunsui can't stay away?)

"Is it this then?" Starrk asks next, and the water sloshes a little as he straightens up, revealing his scarred chest to tap a finger against the near-horizontal scar cleaved across it, right through where his Hollow hole had presumably still been at the time of the injury. Seeing it in its full gruesome glory now, Shunsui can tell that this wound had to have nearly cut the other man in two.

He feels a little at a loss for words, then sighs and fesses up. "Maa, I suppose I'm just a bit curious." He tries to keep his tone light, but there's really no two ways to say it. "…I did that, didn't I?"

Starrk levels an arch look at him. "Well, you didn't." He slouches back into the water, and somehow, he actually looks a bit amused. "I'm long over it, Taichou-san. We'd just met, and we were enemies at the time. You did what you had to do. We both did. It was war. If it makes you feel better, I gave as good as I got."

Shunsui snorts. That does actually make him feel a bit better. At the very least, this is preferable to the progressively dramatic betrayal scenes he'd been thinking of. He doesn't like the idea of his future self almost killing Starrk, but at least it hadn't happened after they'd become friends.

It does mean he has to reshuffle a few things on his mental timeline though, and across the hot spring, Starrk glances at him again and seems to understand.

"I guess we didn't get around to talking much about Aizen," He muses, then reveals, "We mentioned that before the Quincy became a problem, it was Aizen you all fought. Aizen set up his base of operations in Hueco Mundo, sought out Hollows from all over, and created an army of artificial Arrancar out of them to serve him, using that Hougyoku Ichigo was talking about earlier. I was part of that army."

Shunsui blinks at that revelation, and it's on the tip of his tongue to ask what Aizen - in his quest for world domination - could've possibly offered a man who didn't even like fighting to secure his allegiance. Then again, Shunsui's willing to bet at least a little hypnosis had been involved to ease the way. Aizen doesn't seem the type to bank on genuine fealty without including insurance.

The question stalls in his throat though as Starrk lifts a hand out of the water--his left, the one with the vivid burn scar stretched over the back of it. That isn't something often seen either. Starrk almost always has gloves on. He stares at it for a moment before letting it fall back beneath the water.

"The ten most powerful Arrancar in his army were called the Espada," Starrk explains. "I was the Primera. The first."

"The strongest," Shunsui nods. That sounds right, especially if Starrk had been sent to fight Shunsui.

Starrk shrugs noncommittally and says nothing else, leaving Shunsui to mull over the new information for a minute.

"Ichigo-kun warned us earlier," Shunsui eventually says. "About being Hollowfied by Aizen's Hougyoku. That turning into Visored stunted any chance of growth, and that you weren't even halfway through the Blood War before Lisa-chan and the others' power levels had degraded to barely that of a seated officer's."

Hirako had been grim-faced at the news. Lisa had looked ready to march out and rip Aizen's head off right then and there. Honestly, Shunsui had shared the sentiment.

"Then wouldn't it have been the same for Aizen's Arrancar?" Shunsui continues, watching a puzzled frown furrow at Starrk's brow. "They were granted power by the Hougyoku. Shouldn't it have stunted them too?"

Starrk nods, still frowning. "Yeah, it did. Grimmjow was furious when he found out." He blinks, and then realization strikes. "Oh, you mean me."

Shunsui hums a confirmation. Why in the world would he mean anyone else?

Starrk shakes his head. "I was the exception. Aizen found me last, out of most of the Arrancar. Definitely last out of the Espada. But even then, I was already more powerful than all the others, so he gave me the Primera seat." A corner of his mouth quirks with a cynical sort of mirth. "I didn't want more power, and he certainly wasn't about to give me more. I suppose it was fortunate. I don't think even Aizen knew back then that the Hougyoku would cause stagnation."

Powerful enough to have risen to Arrancar on his own, Shunsui muses, and he has to marvel at that, has to admire it. That kind of strength - mental even more than physical in some ways - isn't something just anyone can possess. Evidently. The only natural Arrancar in the known worlds. The only one to repair his own soul. What an extraordinary accomplishment. Except-

"I'm sorry it took so long," Shunsui says softly, because he knows Starrk is around the same age as himself, and if he was still an Arrancar by Aizen's war, then he could only have spent all the centuries before in Hueco Mundo. Even if he'd had companions there, Starrk would've outlived them all. "It must've been lonely."

I'm sorry nobody could help, because no Shinigami would've known to help. Perhaps most wouldn't have been willing to even if they'd known. I'm sorry I couldn't help.

For a long moment, Starrk is still enough to resemble a statue. Then a scoff of something that could've been laughter if it didn't ache so much claws its way out of his throat. He doesn't lift his gaze from where it's fallen blankly on the shifting surface of the hot spring. "No need to be sorry. I'm used to it."

Used to it. Used to being alone. Used to being left behind.

Shunsui doesn't think he's only talking about those long years in Hueco Mundo anymore, not when he's avoiding eye-contact again, not when Shunsui can suddenly feel the bleak despair radiating from his soul again.

"There's nothing worse than only being able to stand by helplessly while something you love disappears in front of you."

Not for the first time, Shunsui feels an acute desire to have a nice long talk with his future self and ask exactly how much of the agony rippling through Starrk's reiatsu can be placed directly at his feet.

(It isn't as if Shunsui can't understand. Even disregarding all other circumstances, the fact that they'd been at war would've meant that there could be no guarantees.

But still.

Still.

Couldn't he have tried a little harder? Didn't he know better than anyone the pain of being the only one left behind, the way it lingers like a slow unending bleed you're forced to carry until the day death finally deigns to take you too?

Shunsui at least has Ukitake, has Yama-jii, has Retsu-senpai and Sasakibe-san too, has Lisa-chan and Hirako and Kaien-kun, even has Nanao-chan to watch over in his brother and sister-in-law's stead. And in the future, maybe he'd lost them all, but it also sounds like he'd still had one to staunch the bleed, still had Starrk, right to the very end.

Then, who did Starrk have after Shunsui had died?

Isn't the answer obvious? Isn't Starrk still bleeding right now?)

A heavy sigh jolts Shunsui out of his thoughts, and his hands sting from where his nails have dug into his palms, fortunately out of sight. On the other side, Starrk clambers to his feet, water sloughing off his frame as he turns to get out of the hot spring.

The steam obscures his face this time, but even if he could see it, Shunsui thinks it would be one of those times again where he wouldn't be able to read him at all.

"Don't think so hard, Taichou-san," Starrk says, voice as calm as a blanket of snow over a cemetery. "It's not your job to save me."

I can't be saved anymore. I don’t want to be saved.

Shunsui's out of the water and next to Starrk before either of them can blink.

Too much, too soon, a part of him warns, but this time, he throws caution to the wind, reaches out, and closes a hand around Starrk’s wrist.

Starrk freezes, the pulse under Shunsui’s fingers jumps, and for a moment, time seems to stop.

They must look ridiculous, dripping wet and naked, and yet Shunsui barely notices, and Starrk has probably noticed everything but.

"It's not my job, that's true," Shunsui says without letting go, staring at what he could see of the other's face. "And I don't know if what I'm doing is meant to save you. But if you think I'll just let you go to your grave after all this is over, Ichigo-kun is apparently not the one we should've been worrying most about after all."

They had made a mistake, Shunsui realizes. He had made a mistake. Because looking at Starrk and Ichigo--at Starrk who was so steady and composed all the time, and then at Ichigo who was so much more transparent in his misery, in his fury, in his determination to achieve his end goals no matter the cost to himself, that it was almost instinct for everyone to focus their concerns on him. Because for all that Ichigo was reluctant to involve them, and reticent on the best of the days, he was at least also loud about it, and therefore was that much easier to help--to know they need to help.

Compared to him, Starrk has always shown himself to be the rock in a storm that even Ichigo clearly clings to. He has never been anything less than an ocean of serenity, but perhaps they should've remembered that no ocean is calm beneath the surface.

…No, it's Shunsui who should've remembered. He has literal unparalleled insight into Starrk's soul, feels the ache of it regularly, even if not all the time, except he'd just… not forgotten, that's impossible, but he'd been trying to fix it in his own way, with tea and conversation and countless attempts at coaxing out even just one more smile, except he can never tell when he might be going too far, pushing too fast, wanting too much, always feeling a bit like he's standing helpless in front of a skittish cornered animal too hurt to accept any kind of affection, and so perhaps as a result, Shunsui's ended up failing to show Starrk just how far he's willing to go instead.

Case in point, he's still holding onto Starrk, touching him, skin warm against Shunsui's own. Shunsui would've thought he'd be shaken off by now, possibly tossed into a wall out of reflex if nothing else, but Starrk hasn't even attempted to pull away. His pulse is calming again, but Shunsui can feel the tension in his arm, and he's staring down at their limbs with a lost expression.

Shunsui tightens his grip and runs his thumb along the inside of the other's wrist. He feels more than sees the shiver that runs through Starrk's body, for all that Starrk still hasn't moved. But the lost expression on his face also retreats. It leaves exhaustion-bruised eyes and enough sorrow thrumming through his reiatsu to smother the breath from Shunsui's lungs in its wake, but at the very least, he also finally looks up to meet Shunsui's gaze.

"…I don't know what you want from me, Shunsui," Starrk says wearily.

It's the first time he's ever used Shunsui's name. Shunsui only wishes he wouldn't sound so unbearably sad when saying it, but he'd take what he could get.

"That's easy," Shunsui replies, catching that pale mercurial gaze and holding it. "I want the same thing you've asked of Ichigo-kun. I want you to live."

A long silence follows before a rough sound spills from Starrk's throat like shattered glass.

"'Easy'," Starrk echoes, shoulders shaking, with laughter, with tears. But his eyes are dry, and he's the farthest thing from amused, and his soul feels like it might swallow itself whole just to cease its own existence. So this time, Shunsui lets instinct guide his hands and doesn't let himself second-guess it--in one swift motion, he tugs the other man into his arms and wraps him in a hug like he's wanted to ever since Starrk's soul had grasped for his own like he was drowning and Shunsui was the only one who could pull him to shore. Who could convince him to come ashore.

Starrk collapses against him, shuddering like he might fall apart with even just one more word, one more breath, one more touch, but Shunsui only draws him closer, holds him harder, and refuses to let him go.

[peachhcs]

friendsgiving in michigan

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

because thanksgiving falls so late this year, samy manages to arrange a friendsgiving weekend with everyone up at the lake house and pulls off a guest surprise in the process

2.4k words

a thanksgiving special from samy & the crew + emma cooper mention from my other au (that i still haven’t worked on). wanted to put together something fun for thanksgiving so enjoy and happy turkey day!! 🦃

au masterlist

SAMY HUGHES

FRIENDSGIVING WEEKEND AT THE LAKE HOUSE?

WHO'S FREE? THINKING 24th-27th?

RYAN LEONARD

HELL YEAH I'M IN

GABE PERREAULT

ME 2

ARAM MINNETIAN

ME 3

DREW FORTESCUE

ME 4!

WILL VOTE

u think we can bring the hagens, stiga, and buium along too?

SAMY HUGHES

yes!!! bring them all we'll have a full house this year i'm so excited!!

julianne, emma, & tell zeev's gf they're all welcome too

hannah's coming up with me

JACOB FOWLER

can't wait to be back in mich for a few days

RYAN LEONARD

gonna be the best reunion can't wait

can smitty come by chance?

WILL SMITH

shit i have a game the 25th and 27th 😔

GABE PERREAULT

fuckkkkk dude

ARAM MINNETIAN

smitty will be missed 😔😔

WILL SMITH

wish i could be there i'll be thinking of u guys ❤️

the entire house was buzzing with people everywhere either catching up with one another, cooking, or playing video games. samy was busy in the kitchen making mac and cheese while ryan and gabe attempted to help with the turkey after being put to work by samy (even though they asked if they could help her with anything).

sometimes others would pop in to see how it was going or steal some of the food knowing they couldn't eat it yet, especially jacob and drew. those two were notorious for getting a dip of something and then hurrying back out of the kitchen before samy or hannah yelled at them.

the house was filled with a lot of warmth which the youngest hughes loved. people were only in the house over the summer, so being able to fill it with people during the winter really made the girl happy, especially since she hadn't seen the boys since summer ended anyway.

the only thing that was missing was will and what no one but samy knew was that he was on a flight over right after his game to surprise everyone. she kept checking her phone to know when he was almost there so she could go out and get him. the couple planned it a few days after samy asked everyone if they were free for friendsgiving and who didn't love surprises?

"this is actually so gross," gabe complained while buttering and seasoning up the inside of the turkey. his hands were deep under the skin slowly rolling the flavoring into the meat. ryan snickered.

"sucks you got stuck with that job," the brunette taunted.

"shut up, dude," gabe rolled his eyes and samy laughed to herself at their minor bickering. her phone buzzed against the counter and her eyes flew to the screen, smiling when she saw will's notification.

"hey, gabe, you mind taking over this cutting for a second?" the girl held the knife out to the boy and he sent her a relieved look.

"yes, thank god. i don't wanna do this anymore," he scrubbed his hands off and eagerly took the knife from her to finish cutting up her potatoes.

samy swiped her phone from the counter to read her boyfriend's message.

WILL SMITH five minutes away

the brunette grinned to herself. she slipped out of the kitchen and out the back door where no one would see her leave or catch sight of will coming in when he got there. a bubble of excitement grew in her stomach knowing she couldn't wait to see everyone's reaction.

will's uber rolled down the drive and the girl's grin got even wider as she waited in anticipation on the porch. the blonde climbed out, waving to her as he grabbed his backpack and hurried up the wooden porch.

"hey pretty," he smushed her into a hug as she breathed him in and took her moment with him before everyone else took his attention inside.

"it's good to see you. everyone's inside. they're gonna be really excited to see you," she nodded towards the door. will smiled, leaning down to place a kiss to her lips, also wanting his moment with his girl before the guys stole him away.

"i'm kind of nervous, is that weird?" the blonde chuckled to himself as his gaze drifted towards the house again.

"no, but don't be. they're gonna be really excited," samy rubbed his arm and then waited for will's cue that he was ready to go inside. he nodded and she slowly pushed the door back open where everyone's voices filled their ears again.

samy led her boyfriend back towards the living room where mostly everyone was. they were scattered across the couches, chairs, and floor taking turns playing mario kart and too invested to notice the boy's presence until will knocked on the entryway.

aram's head snapped that way first. his eyes widened in surprise, shoving everyone out of the way as he jumped up and bounded his way to the blonde.

"holy shit! smitty!" aram exclaimed and basically tackled the boy into a hug. his excitement caught everyone else's attention and a whole new eruption of commotion broke out.

"yoo! what are you doing here?!" ryan and gabe came in to see what was going on, eyes wide when they saw their old friend standing before them.

samy stepped back, letting the boys have their moment together. her heart warmed seeing them all look so happy and jump around like little kids on christmas morning.

soon they were chanting "smitty, smitty, smitty" and the girls laughed at their behavior. hannah nudged her friend's arm, "now how'd you pull this off?"

"we pulled a few strings to get him out here for a day before his game on wednesday," the brunette explained with a little smile, still watching the boys take turns hugging will.

she sometimes forgot how much they all missed him too even if they didn't explicitly say it all the time. it really showed watching them all embrace will and express how excited they were to see him and spend time with him even if it was just for tonight and tomorrow before he had to get back on a plane for his next game.

after another thirty minutes, everyone settled down again. samy was finishing up a few last minute things in the kitchen while everyone else helped set up the table and find extra chairs from around the house so everyone had a seat. will stuck his head in for a moment.

"hey," he caught her attention.

"hey, what's up?" the girl wondered.

"need any help?"

"maybe just arranging all the food so everyone can just come in and grab what they want for their plates," samy explained how she wanted the food on the counters, so will quickly jumped in to do it for her.

"thank you for this. it's really great getting to see everyone," the blonde smiled softly.

"of course. i'm glad you were able to make it out," she reached up to peck his lips. will leaned in more, wanting a better kiss when she pulled back. samy giggled and obliged his wishes by leaning across the counter to kiss him better.

"hey lovebirds, the crew is getting hungry," hannah poked her head into the kitchen which broke the couple apart in a small blush.

"tell them to come in with their plates. it's all ready," the soccer player giggled.

her and will let everyone go first down the line, the boys filling their plates high. it was a good thing she made a lot of food knowing how much hockey players ate. she came back into the dining room last taking a seat right by will near the end. ryan tapped his fork against the glass before everyone started eating to get their attention.

"i just wanna say how thankful i am for all of you and getting to spend this holiday all together for the first time in two years. a big thanks to samy and her brothers for letting us stay for a few days and another really big thanks to samy for getting will here with us," the taller brunette looked at the girl who flushed under all the attention. she felt will squeeze her leg and kiss her cheek.

"also a big thank you for making most of this food. it looks amazing," gabe added and everyone agreed.

"i'm just glad we were able to make this happen," samy grinned.

"alright, let's eat!" ryan exclaimed. everyone clapped and then started digging in, the conversations flowing across the room.

the boston boys took turns sharing stories from the semester so far and filling will in on everything he's missed. hannah and samy took turns talking about what's been going on at michigan and the successful season the women's soccer team has had. julianne chirped in with things from providence and zeev and his girlfriend filled everyone in about denver and arizona. it was nostalgic hearing about the different lives everyone had been living since being together in michigan.

it didn't even feel like two years ago that the boys were playing in the usntdp and samy was graduating high school, but it was and that thought was a little scary with how much time has passed.

halfway through dinner, julianne brought out the wine. it was popped open and the bottle was a quarter of the way empty by the time everyone got a glass.

"emma and olivia might be a little new to this, but samy and will would not admit their feelings until literally we left for college," aram said with a low chuckle. the girl's face flushed while will rolled his eyes a bit. his arm was draped across the back of samy's chair, his fingers rubbing little shapes into her shoulder.

"i can imagine," emma giggled.

"they were insufferable at dev program. so, so oblivious," drew shook his head.

"well, i wanna know how gabe and emma got together," hannah chirped up. the other couple exchanged a glance, smiling at one another and everyone shared knowing smiles.

"we took french together and i sucked at econ, so she helped tutor me," the darker-haired boy explained with a bit of a blush.

"he would not tell us he was seeing her, so we had to literally find out ourselves," ryan rolled his eyes a bit.

"you guys were just being nosy," gabe grumbled making the boys chuckle.

"or you were just being secretive. either or," jacob shrugged.

"whatever. let's talk about something else," gabe shifted the conversation away from him and emma who just giggled at the teasing.

they all talked for a bit longer before helping with the dishes and getting the food put away. a lot more thanks were thrown around to everyone and then it was just samy and will left in the kitchen together after she shooed the others out promising they did enough and didn't need to keep helping with clean up.

the couple worked in comfortable silence with will rinsing the dishes and samy putting them into the dishwasher. "thanks again for this. tell jack and quinn thanks too," the blonde hummed.

"i will. they gave me very strict instructions about not destroying the house," she giggled.

"just watch minnetian and leonard. when they get beer in their systems they go kind of crazy," will laughed too and both of their eyes flicked to the living room where the group retreated to.

"i hope we can make this happen again during winter break too. hopefully this won't be the last time i'll see everyone until summer," the blonde's lips turned into a small frown.

"i'm sure we can make something happen, don't worry. maybe we'll even plan a trip out to san jose to see you play at a game. at least leno, gp, and i will," samy assured. her boyfriend's lips flipped back into a smile at her words.

"i love you," he paused their movements for another kiss which she reciprocated. they connected their lips, tasting the remnants of the wine on one another's lips.

"will get in here! teddy's about to take your nhl high score!" ryan yelled from the living room, breaking the two apart. the blonde sighed a little, the interruptions reminding him of summer and never getting a second alone.

"be right there!" he called back.

he helped samy finish the dishes before pulling her into the living room with him. will took the empty chair and then patted his legs as samy's indication to sit in his lap. she flushed a bit before cuddling into the blonde's side and fitting into the chair with him.

teddy and drew were playing quinn and jack's nhl video game where will had the highest score—something he worked hard to build up over the years. the others giggled, a bit wine drunk watching the two boys battle it out on the screen together.

"i win! i win!" teddy jumped up and reached for the high fives.

"damn. who's next then?" drew wondered and will immediately raised his hand.

"i wanna keep my record," the boy handed him the controller where will reached his arm around samy's back to hold it with both hands. she giggled, finding a comfortable spot on the boy's chest to watch the tv.

gabe took the other controller and a few of the guys oohed seeing the two best friends matchup against one another. they spent the rest of the night switching between mario cart and the other sports games samy's brothers had. it wasn't until at least 3:30 in the morning when everyone went to sleep. they all wanted to spend as much time as they could together, especially with will since he was leaving the next day.

"hey samy?" gabe and ryan stuck their heads into the kitchen one last time before going to bed where the girl started the dishwasher.

"yeah?" she wondered.

"thank you for doing this and thank you for getting will here. best friendsgiving yet," ryan grinned making the girl flush.

"of course, guys. it was really good seeing everyone together," she brought them in for a quick hug. "now get some sleep. it's late," she pushed them back to the spare room, careful not to step on the others asleep throughout the house.

when she finally got up to her room, will was already fast asleep in her bed. she smiled at his sleeping figure, shutting the lights off and climbing in beside him.

even though he was asleep, he felt her presence and turned so he could wrap his arms around her frame in a strong hold. the youngest hughes cuddled herself into will's side, kissing his cheek and falling into a deep sleep.

[some-stars]

logan/wade rough sex with wade crying!!!

okay, so obviously you know the context for this but for everyone else: this is a canon-divergence AU sequel to a fic of mine that I haven't finished yet. all you need to know is that Logan and Wade hooked up during Origins, fell for each other and ran off together, and also they are both fucked up but wade is very fucked up.

content notes: consensual sex but it's fucked up, face slapping, painful sex, possessiveness, masochism, praise, spit, kind of sweet despite all that. i'm high so i might have forgotten something, read at your own risk. i don't think i did tho!

--

The only thing that stops Logan from slamming Wade up against the wall the second the last body drops is the urgent need for them to get clear of the scene before the cops show up. As it is, they make it about half a mile before he snaps and drags Wade down an alley, the simmering anger in his skull boiling over at the way Wade laughs when he does it. It's clear Wade's still riding the high from the fight, and when his back hits the bricks he grins like crazy.

"All that killing got you so hot and bothered, huh, cupcake?" He bats his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon. "You just can't wait till we get home to take it out on me? I'm not complaining, I love a nice nasty back alley fuck. Something about getting reamed five feet from a dumpster really tickles the old pickle."

Logan would love to be able to say that his hand moves without him meaning to move it, that he slaps Wade across the face on a blind, furious impulse. But that would be a lie. He chooses to do it.

He kisses Wade right after, because the flash of hurt and fear that crosses his face is too much to look at. Too much to think about, how right it feels to put it there. Wade melts into the kiss just like he always does, permanently desperate for affection no matter how much of it Logan gives him. Logan holds his face with one hand--the side he hit, hot and flushed with blood--and kisses Wade like he's claiming him, deep and demanding. When Logan takes his lower lip between his teeth Wade tenses and whimpers, anticipating pain, but Logan doesn't break the skin. He's already smelled enough of Wade's blood tonight, enough for a fucking lifetime.

He pulls back just enough to look Wade in the eye. "What the fuck were you thinking back there?"

The slap shook him but he’s already recovering, raising his eyebrows and starting to smirk. "Well, you know how it is when that battle haze comes over you. It’s all just flow state and instinct. And a dash of horny, once things really get going--"

Logan gives him a shake, maybe harder than he means to. It shuts him up, though, so maybe just hard enough. "You still don’t give a shit if you get killed," he says, low and dangerous. "Is that why you wanted to get into this mercenary gig? You got bored of not nearly fucking dying all the time?"

"I didn’t--" 

"You got shot!"

"Grazed," Wade snaps, starting to struggle against Logan’s bruising grip. "I got lightly grazed, all those guys had terrible aim, it doesn’t even hurt anymore--"

This time when Logan kisses him he can't make himself hold back. The taste of blood sizzles on his tongue like lightning, sweet and hot, and the high hurt noise his teeth tear from Wade makes it hard to find any regret.

"You don't get to do that shit anymore," Logan growls. "You don't get to throw away what's mine."

It slides home as smooth as a skeleton key, unlocking Wade like he knew it would. His hips jerk forward and his head falls back against the bricks, already babbling an apology as he offers up his throat. Logan rewards him with a hand fisted tight in his hair to pull his head back even farther, and sharp teeth clamped down hard around the thick cord of muscle that runs from neck to shoulder. Not tearing him open, now, because he doesn't want that. He doesn't even want the blood, really, not when he's in his right mind. It's just that Wade still wants so badly to give it to him.

Logan hurts him like that until the apologies turn into begging, until his cock is as hard as Wade's where they're grinding together. "Please," Wade repeats, choked and thick.

"Yeah? You want something?" Logan kisses him again before he can answer, just long enough to feel Wade open up for him. It's not enough, though. Three fingers in his mouth feels closer to what he wants, and Wade sucks on them gratefully, moaning. Like any way Logan wants to be inside him is the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't close his eyes, either, even though Logan knows he wants to, how hard it is for Wade to let Logan watch him like this. But Logan asked him for it, once. Before he knew just how careful he had to be about asking Wade to give him things.

"You want me to show you how you're mine?" Logan asks, and Wade nods and mumbles around the fingers in his mouth, incoherent and desperately affirmative. Logan pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Wade's cheek, leaving a thick smear of wet that glitters in the faint, distant glow of the streetlights. Wade shivers, finally squeezing his eyes shut, but offers no other protest.

(Not that he would. Logan's seen him come from being spat on, which was so nightmarishly arousing to watch that he hasn't tried it again since.)

When Wade had finally realized Logan was serious about refusing to fuck him dry, he'd become obsessive about stashing lube everywhere, including the pockets of his work clothes. Logan fishes the packet out now, and when Wade realizes what he's reaching for he almost trips over his own feet turning around so fast. With his cheek pressed to the wall, eyes closed, back arched to present himself, he looks ripped from the kind of magazine that gets sold in brown paper wrapping. The kind you have to ask for, at very specific stores. He looks obscene, and Logan hasn't even gotten his pants down yet.

It's the work of a moment to shove them down around his knees and get his own belt and fly open just enough so he can use the scant handful of lube on himself. Wade shudders at the wet sound, his back curving into an even deeper arch. A cat in heat, desperate to be put down. No matter how sweet Logan is to him it's always this waiting underneath, this shape that other hands bent Wade into long before Logan ever met him.

He loves Wade like this, because there isn't any way he doesn't love Wade; no possible shape of him that Logan wouldn't want exactly this much.

Logan pulls him open and forces his way in too fast, offering not even a breath for Wade's body to welcome him the way it always does, surely would if Logan gave him the chance, but he doesn't and Wade can't entirely swallow the little scream that slips out. His whole back tenses as his body struggles on instinct to get away from what's hurting it, but there's nowhere to go with the wall at his face and Logan boxing him in everywhere else.

Logan leans in close as he settles into a quick hard pace. Already Wade's breathing fast and scared, his hands balled into useless fists, all fear and misery, forgetting why he wanted this so fucking bad. 

"You need someone to hurt you," he rasps into Wade's ear, "you don't pull that kind of dumb shit. You come to me."

Another harsh snap of his hips makes Wade's breath hitch. For a moment he goes even more tense and tight beneath Logan, and a trembling little moan slides past his lips. Logan thinks about stopping; doesn't.

"Come on, Wade," he murmurs. He licks the hollow behind Wade's ear. The slick of sweat that dissolves into his tongue tastes like honey. "Be good for me."

More magic words. Wade sobs and the panicky all-over clench of him eases a little, and a few moments later a little more. Logan's next thrust feels more like fucking, less like cruelty. Enough less, at least.

He smells Wade's tears before he sees them. "Good boy," Logan tells him, which makes him cry harder, but he thanks Logan anyway. Can't seem to stop thanking him, even as he sobs, and it's almost a shocked kind of sound, the way he cries, like a kid with their first broken arm.

God, it feels so fucking good. He's never going to be able to make Wade stop giving him everything because he likes it so much, he fucking loves it, every single time.

Wade comes almost as soon as Logan gets his hand around him, and Logan fills his ear with stupid praise as he works him through it, how he's so good, so tight, so sweet, so good for Logan, so fucking good to him, better than anybody should be. 

Logan doesn't last long either after that, way too worked up do anything but give into it. Wade shakes as Logan fills him, his sobs slowing to sniffles and hitching damp breaths. Logan wraps his arms around him and nuzzles down into his neck, breathing him in deep, and for a minute they stay like that.

Logan waits for his cock to go soft and lets himself slip out as gently as he can. As soon as he's free Wade spins in his arms and grabs his face and kisses him, demanding. It's nothing Logan doesn't want to give him, so he does, all of it, everything Wade wants. Even when Wade breaks off and looks away, swallowing roughly, and says, "Tell me again."

"That you're mine?" Logan watches his eyes close. "You know you are."

"Yeah," Wade sighs. When he opens his eyes again he looks tender, exhausted. Soft. "So take me home already, daddy. It's past my bedtime."

"I fucking hate that daddy shit," Logan mutters. Wade falls into step beside him as he starts back down the street, so close they could be sharing an umbrella, stays soft and close and quiet the whole way home.

[astra-ryuusei]

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant"

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

flings my creation into the unknown

the brain worms have gotten too powerful and I’m simultaneously dying of skystar disease of so have this 1400-ish-word Fucking Thing™ based on @keferon's mecha AU featuring human!starscream as the the little bastard you can't live with but also can't live without, and skyfire/jetfire as the unfortunate victim of Fate Being a Real Bitch Sometimes and accidentally deciding the outcome of the Space Race

"ulchtar" as a name for human!Starscream was borrowed from starscream's early name (and also Skybound)

also i don’t remember if the corporation that produces mechs in this au was ever properly given a name so i just kinda. gave them a generic one lol

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

Ulchtar is a mechanical engineer working on developing spacefaring mecha. He’s climbed through the ranks based on his expertise (and, occasionally by sabotaging other peoples’ work). Nobody really likes working with him; he’s kind of an ass at the best of times. But his experience with these systems makes him a danger if the company ever lets him go. He could sell his knowledge to anyone else in the world, creating new competition in a sector they’ve more-or-less monopolized. This keeps him from being kicked out…up until Mecha-Corp’s first voyage into the stars goes horribly wrong. After the disappearance of Jazz, the fingers are pointed at him, even though—for once in his life—he’s actually not to blame. It’s decided that he’s no longer useful, and he needs to be disposed of.

Ulchtar doesn’t know this, of course. Not until—after being called into a meeting in one of the downstairs labs—the door to go back upstairs locks itself, and he hears the telltale, unholy screeches of alien beasts around him. The beasts he has helped contain for years.

“…shit. Shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit—”

He starts running. Not upstairs, that’s not an option, but maybe there’s another way out of here. He finds that the door upstairs is locked, but not the way down, and that means there’s still a chance, because if there’s anything the higher-ups here right about, it was the fact that Ulchtar knows way too much.

In a last, desperate attempt to survive (or at least go down swinging) Ulchtar decides to unleash his final gambit. He runs down long-forgotten halls, hurls himself downstairs until he reaches the lowest floor of the facility—a floor where nobody goes. It’s down here that he’ll make his stand and wake up an old “friend.”

The few who know it exists call it the “Sleeping Giant.” Corny name, but it made sense, given it's…well, fucking gigantic, maybe even bigger than Vortex. It was found buried in the Arctic in the mid-1950’s—what looked to be an ancient, alien shuttle, lost under the ice for perhaps millions of years. It was all kept hush-hush, but in secret, its discovery had turned the tides of the Space Race…and when it fell into the hands of what would soon become Mecha-Corp, they quickly learned it was much more than a vessel. It was alive.

Some of the earliest mechs? The huge, bulky ones that never ended up getting mass-produced because it wasn’t economical enough? They owed their design to the Giant. They owed their existence to the many times it had been torn apart and put back together to see how it worked, to the many years it had laid on a table inert, unaware of what humanity had done to it. It was their greatest trade secret.

And the Giant owes its currently-intact state to Ulchtar, who’d thought studying it as a whole was more useful than research on individual parts. Which is the only reason he knows, at least in theory, how to power it on. Hell, he’d even done some refurbishments when nobody was looking. He runs across a table far too big for him, pulling out cables and unlocking restraints. He doesn’t have time for final checks, not with a horde of kaiju bearing down on him. He just has to hope, to scream until he makes the stars hear his name—or he dies trying.

"COME ON!" He shouts. "WAKE UP, YOU OVERSIZED SUNOVA--"

At that moment, the stars respond.

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

He can’t move.

He’s freezing cold.

Is he dead?

How did he get here?

He’s…he was…looking for something, he’s pretty sure. Something very important.

Something so important he’d risk getting trapped under an ice sheet over it.

Who is he? He's not sure.

He wants to go home, but he can’t remember where that’s supposed to be.

Trying to remember hurts too much.

It’s hard to think like this, when he’s so cold and everything hurts and he’s so tired.

He lets himself drift, fluttering in and out of death-dreams that he can barely recall.

Eventually, after he’s lost count of the cycles, something happens. The dim light filtering through the ice gets brighter. Small creatures—the lifeforms of this planet, he thinks—peer down at him, pointing, shouting, but he is too weak to respond.

He has hope, for a brief moment, when he sees the sun again, but those hopes are quickly dashed—once more he’s trapped in walls and ceilings of white and gray. This time, the prison is own body. He’s escaped the glacier, only to find himself paralyzed and comatose. Occasionally he laspses into consciousness just long enough to steal a few kliks of awareness before he falls back into darkness.

At some point, he feels himself revert to ‘bot mode, which is something he'd forgotten he even had until then. He’s vaguely aware that he is being picked apart and put back together by the scavengers, again and again and again. The dull ache of not being whole is the only reason he knows he’s still alive, if this can still be called living.

And then…something changes. Everything goes dark for a very long time. The next time he’s aware of anything, his first realization is that he doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t feel broken. His arms respond when he tries to move.

What?

He sits up, still in something of a daze, taking in the surroundings. It’s a room seemingly sized for mechs, and yet the furniture strewn about is far too small—maybe meant for the scavengers? He has little time to wonder about the whole situation, because he soon hears them—the distant, telltale sounds of Quintessons approaching. He remembers what those are, in a way that’s almost instinctive.

To his right, though, he hears a small screaming noise. A lone organic is shouting something at him almost hysterically, pointing at the entrance before gesturing wildly, and then pointing up at the ceiling. It runs over to a set of controls, pushing at buttons furiously until the ceiling begins to open up. Once again, he sees the sky and feels something like hope.

Then tentacles lash out from behind the entrance, and he remembers this is no time for sentiment. He picks the organic up, deciding to just plop the creature inside his cockpit where’s it’s relatively safe and jump for it. He doesn’t trust the creature, not for a second, but he needs someone to explain what’s going on. Engines flare to life for the first time in millions of years, and he hears horrific screeches as Quintesson flesh is cooked under the heat from his thrusters.

They sail up and up and up until there’s no walls anymore and that feeling of suffocating is gone and it’s warmer than anything he’s felt in millions of cycles and he’s alive.

He lets himself spin a few times in the air. He’s above the clouds and the sun feels like fire on his still-frigid wings but somehow that’s good, it feels right. He wants to just hover here and bask in it forever.

He realizes why the creature is kicking him when gunfire whizzes past his face, followed by a pair of aircraft piloted by the scavengers.

Are the scavengers after him? Or the one he’s holding onto? He’s not really sure, but he also really doesn’t want to find out.

He transforms, looking for any way to shake them off. It becomes a mad, spiraling dance as he tries to avoid getting shot, to mixed results.

He considers the enemy’s design—these aircraft don’t look like they’re meant for spaceflight. Knowing that, he climbs higher and higher, looking to get above these things’ maximum operating altitude. He flinches as a few bullets scratch and tear at him, but doesn’t stop. This eventually pays off, as he sees his pursuers begin to stall out, dropping away behind him.

He hopes his scavenger didn’t get too sick in the cockpit. That’d be a mess to clean up…

…Primus, why am I worrying about that at a time like this? He laughs to himself, though this high up, the air is so thin that it’s barely audible.

He looked down at the planet below—dusk was soon to fall on this side of the world, and he needed to find somewhere to hide.

“…where do I even go from here?”

A knock from the organic, who held up what looked like a tiny datapad with a nervous grin.

Maybe they had an idea?

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

part 2

[cmyk-anaglyph-honeycomb]

Helluva Boss S2 E11

(this is mostly in order but not really. I have a lot of thoughts and its 1am) How did stella know about the 'break up' in the first place? Was she also at the party or did someone she know go? Did she hear it through the grapevine of imps she defiantly talks too? So that on the run shit was just for the trailer huh? Actually thought this was going to get interesting, my mistake. I should've known better. Luna being muzzled is decent world building on how she is just viewed as an animal. But also her character does so little outside of being blitzo's daughter or a hazard to Moxxie that she could have just been an actual dog with aggression issues. Why is Andrealphus focused on pointing the blame on Blitzo and not Stolas? The book was getting miss-used either way and Stolas was his actual aim, so why try to write him off? Also, why is he so against stolas. At this point it can't just be for Stella because it doesn't seem like he likes her. At this point I'm waiting for it to be a thing where Andrealphus arranged for Stella and Stolas's marriage to gain power from his family or something. He is putting in too much effort for it just to be out of pettiness. Who is Vassago and why is he here? Dude is a prop not a character. If Andrealphus (god I hate his name) would have just had Stolas on trial at first and the imps were just witnesses that would flow better. [sidenote: It could have been a thing where IMP would have greatly benefited from condemning stolas and Blitzo choses to tell the truth and cost to himself to help Stolas out. It would show stolas that Blitzo actually cared.] Not a fan of how the other deadly sins are just dropped on us without much fan fair. They were kinda the one thing I was looking forward too. It really felt like the musical part was crafted first and everything else was written around it. What was the point of satan singing about how he is the top boss and all that? No one was saying how they are the mastermind of hell or anything, just this one collection of bullshit. We get it big man, you're in charge. (Sidenote: I do like his design, its kinda basic for a satan character, but still good. I love his voice when speaking and singing. The song he sings is good, the point of it is not.) So there are zero stakes in this show. None. Kinda makes it hard to care about the outcome if everything has a soft ending. Stolas loses his powers, that we rarely see him use. He can't see his daughter, that we barely see him around. He loses nothing that we see him show any interest or care given too. Stella's evil smile means nothing either. She is a nothing character to make Stolas look better. At this point she shouldn't be in the show she does so little. Why was this trial about Andrealphus and not her? If stella was supposed to be this super evil and manipulative character why is she so far on the back burner for her own plan? Would have been a great time to have a woman character actually do something out of their own desire shitty or not, instead of just helping out some man but okay. Andrealphus should've just been Stolas's shit brother who wanted his power instead of wasting our time with Stella. *That's all I got in me for right now. Again its 1am after black friday and my ass works retail so I'm done thinking for now. Might come back to this later.*

[crimsonxe]

Like seriously certain people can absolutely fuck off with the very clear ignorance-based bullshit. Refusing to see that Ambessa is the one that did all the things and Cait was for a time without Vi as her heart-shield swallowed into her bullshit. And to the one crowd out there, no that isn't putting her conscience or whatever bullshit on her as some form of abuse, every goddamn person has that one person who more times than not is their SO but not always that can bring them calm and reach them through even the worst of emotional storms; one that can ground them. Though even then Cait didn't do certain things that people are trying to lay on her. She wasn't out brutalizing people, she wasn't torturing people, she wasn't doing most of the fascist shit. Which I'm fucking GLAD for damn it, cause ngl I worried she might at the end of 2x06. She again did as Ambessa orchestrated in hyper-focusing on Jinx which Maddie as per reveal of her being the spy and a honeypot furthers. Like Cait got run over by all the things that suddenly came into view when the heart-shield was re-instated blowing away the blinders & clouded vision, which means pre-I know up to it; all the things that happened due to Ambessa but technically under Cait's name/watch hit her like a freight train. She's very much in an ocean of regret, guilt, anger at self, etc. Further reinforced by your mention of the jail scene with Jinx, like that's both Cait and the narrative once again lining the two up. BOTH Jinx and Cait deserve their chance at new paths, not having their damn faces shoved in shit they did or in Cait's case done with her forged name stamped on them so to speak. Funny how this same shit isn't dragged up for Jinx, only Cait. People truly can't fucking handle complex situations and complex characters. But getting back to things, demanding her to apologize in my eyes is like blaming the girl that wore a short skirt, instead of the damn dude the that couldn't keep his libido in check. Cait is as much a victim of Ambessa as anyone else, so people demanding an apology from her can absolutely go fuck themselves.

Why I think Caitlyn didn’t ask Vi for forgiveness

(Thank 'anons' for your messages. I’ll try to respond to you through this text: )

The importance of Caitlyn’s “I know”

A key moment in Caitlyn’s character narrative is her “I know”—both its content and delivery.

The content: When Caitlyn says, “I know,” it doesn’t just mean “You’re right.” It means, “I’ve taken the time to think about this.” And thinking is what Caitlyn does best. Her “I know” conveys that she has already had this conversation with herself, over and over in her head. She’s thought about it constantly, she’s already told herself these things, and she’s already blamed herself for them.

The delivery: She screams it with violence, and we can see this represented by the boat falling apart. It’s not just that she has thought about it; it’s tormenting her. Her “I know” is incredibly powerful because it’s filled with suffering.

To me, this is as valid as an apology because asking for forgiveness is outward-facing—focused on the other person. "Asking for forgiveness" says, “Whether I’ve forgiven myself or not, whether I feel guilty or not, it’s on you to decide to forgive me.”

But here, Caitlyn’s “I know” is inward-facing. It means, “I’m not asking you to forgive me because I can’t even forgive myself.”

She knows everything you’re saying, and it torments her.

This is followed by:

"I didn’t even have time to think before they hauled her off."

This line is so telling. Everything about Caitlyn is tied to thinking and reflection.

Being a sniper means aiming and shooting. Aiming is the equivalent of thinking, and shooting is the equivalent of speaking. Everything Caitlyn does is deliberate and thought through.

This is why some people dislike her: as I’ve said before, unlike other characters, Caitlyn’s actions can’t be forgiven easily because she doesn’t do anything by accident.

Then we get to:

"We can’t erase our mistakes. None of us."

Caitlyn speak in “we.”

In the prison scene with Jinx:

"No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes."

This scene mirrors the rage she felt when she threw the boat. In this moment, she’s speaking to Jinx, but also to herself.

Caitlyn and Jinx are paralleled so many times throughout the show. Caitlyn quickly realized that, in some ways, she had become like Jinx. And so, in order to forgive Jinx, she would first have to forgive herself.

At this point in the episode, the person Caitlyn hates the most is herself.

But she no longer has the "energy" to hate, neither Jinx nor herself.

Energy comes from fuel. What she perceives as a lack of strength to keep fighting is simply the fact that the fuel that powered her hatred has disappeared. And when you stop feeding a fire, it eventually dies out. She has no energy left; she has no fuel to sustain her hatred.

It's a particular way of saying, I don’t hate you anymore, and I don’t want to hate myself anymore either, because in the end, that hatred corrupts us/everything .

In her own unique way, Jinx also says, I didn’t know your mother was there, even if it wouldn’t have changed anything. And this too is a strange way of taking a step toward the other.

We have two brilliant and intelligent women who express their emotions in unconventional ways. ----------

There’s also a whole analysis that could be done about her concept of justice and rules, "but I don’t have the energy" to dive into that here. Still, it would only lead back to the fact that Caitlyn doesn’t see herself as the right person to free Jinx (and therefore to forgive her) because she believes she herself is beyond forgiveness.

[ghouljams]

Heya Ghoul... I have a question.

How do you tell if you've been like... affected by something? My ex practices Wiccan stuff and she is very obsessive and still texts my old number and like... yeah, I'm worried about her doing something. We were together roughly two years and she's still trying to contact me after a year of no contact and she's saying how like I'm her soulmate and stuff and I'm just... not into her at all anymore. Like she gave me emotional trauma and stuff, almost convinced me to move up to where she is (long distance, manipulative) and I'm not comfortable going out of state right now because that's a huge reset I don't want to do again...

Not to ramble here too much, I'm sorry if it's too weird or something so feel free to ignore this, but I really don't know who to ask in terms of the practice. I'm also not really sure how to bring up the topic of spells or hexes or whatever, I'm not trying to be dismissive in any way but it's like talking about just feels stifling and awkward. We (ex and I) never really talked about her practices and stuff, but sometimes she'd talk about a ritual she did or wanted to do, or spell jars she wanted to make... I never really learned how to talk about it, either, in general so maybe it just feels weird because it's foreign. I don't doubt it exists, but it's not something I understand very well.

I didn't intend to dump this on you but I did so in sorry about that. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a great day.

Hello hello you have come to the right witch.

First of all FUCK WICCA that shit is just magic stollen from other religions and closed practices, plus it was created by some random white dude in like the 80s so it's not even this deeply ancient practice that people think it is.

Anyway Wiccans also have this whole thing about "do no harm" but lemme tell you something, i am not Wiccan and I will do harm. So here's what you're gonna do.

We're going to start with a cleanse. I like doing a Limpia, since that's the most hands on and accessible.

You're gonna get an egg and rub that Thang all over your body. I mean all over, and try to focus on "cleaning" yourself off with it. Be careful not to break it but make sure you rub it over the top of your head, sole of your feet, stomach/heart/hands, you wanna get anything you think feels bad. Then we're gonna crack the egg into a glass of water.

Now you can read the egg and see if she's actually hexed you, but for your purposes it doesn't matter because even if she hasn't we're gonna throw some salt, ceyanne/chili powder/red pepper flakes, and some garlic into that water. Then you're gonna toss the whole thing down the toilet, close the lid and flush it.

Cleanse done.

Next your gonna take a jar or a bag and you're gonna put anything sharp that you have in your house and you're willing to get rid of into it. Nails, thorns, thumb tacks, needles, pins, toss it in there. If you're using a jar add some vinegar, if your using a bag don't. Then we're doing hot stuff again: chili powder, red pepper flakes, anything spicy goes in your ward. Add some salt. Spit in it. Write a warning on a piece of paper "anyone who sends harm my way will get it back 3 fold" and shove it in there. Then bury that thing. Preferably you do this at the edge of your property but if you can't bury anything out it over your door.

Done.

Other witches get real fancy with their wards but I'm lazy and most people don't have a ton of fancy witchcraft stuff, so we work with what we've got.

Otherwise. Idk magic isn't real, the worst she can do is just like keep trying to contact you and being annoying. She'll get bored eventually and move on to tormenting someone else, but if she does send anything your way or you feel like you're not acting like yourself, do a cleanse.

[sorrelchestnut]

Birds on a Wire, Lucanis/f!Rook, 1/?

Experimenting once more with posting a WIP while it's still In Progress. This will probably curse me but there's only so much I can spam my friends in discord so fuck it. I'm not gonna lie, this is mostly just established relationship fluff and banter with occasional flickers of childhood trauma. For seasoning, like.

*

They say that bad news will cross the ocean twice before good has even gotten out of bed.  Lucanis, staring down at the letter in his grandmother's sloping hand, cannot help but agree.

(Get Rook!)

Lucanis's first instinct as well, but she is working in Minrathous today, coordinating work crews as they clear Blight remnants down in the undercity.  It's dirty, exhausting, thankless work, and while he knows he'd be a welcome distraction, he would be a distraction nonetheless.  Instead he forces himself to spend the day taking inventory: they are going to need groceries again, and soon.  He will send some from Treviso, as the markets there are starting to recover, though much of their supplies are still earmarked for relief efforts.  If all else fails, he can arrange for imports from Rivain, mostly untouched by the whims of the gods.

It is sometime after sunset, Antivan time, when the eluvian's activation chimes quietly through the Lighthouse.  (Rook's back!)  Knowing well her opinion of damp, muddy holes in the ground, Lucanis retrieves the plate he prepared from under one of Neve's warming charms and heads below to the bathhouse, following the trail of shed clothing from the vestibule to where she is lounging in one of the heated pools.  Lucanis takes care to ensure his movements are audible as he sets the plate on the table next to her discarded patch and puts his hands on his hips.

"That is terrible for your blood pressure, you know."

Rook smiles without opening her eye - or throwing a fistful of lightning at his face, so his efforts to announce his arrival did not go unappreciated.   "But great for my temper."

"Guildmaster causing trouble again?  There's a solution for that."

"You can't kill everyone who annoys me, Lucanis.  It's just not cost-efficient."

(But fun!)

"But fun," Lucanis agrees.  "Everyone needs to have a hobby."

"We really need to get you back into knitting.  Hey, c'mere, you're too far away."

"If you splash me, you will regret it," he warns, even as he approaches to seat himself carefully at the edge.  "Hello, mi amor."

"Hullo, love."  It's a delicate maneuver, bending backwards up over the lip of the pool without unduly disturbing the water, but Rook is a consummate professional and manages it without so much as splashing his cuffs.  The feel of her smiling mouth against his is familiar, now, but no less miraculous for it.  "Mm, alright, now I'm feelin' better."

He laughs quietly and settles back on his heels.  "Imagine how well you will feel after supper."

"Oh, shit, is it your night to cook?"  She turns her best pleading expression on him.  "Any chance you brought me a plate?"

He considers making some pretense to the contrary, but what would be the point?  "On the chaise, if you please.  Some civilities must be observed."

"Hey, you like me naked."

"I like you any way I can get you, but melted cheese on skin is not a complaint you want to bring to a medic."

"Oh fuck me, you made carbonara?  That's it, I'm getting out."

"No hurry," he says, stroking one hand affectionately across her damp curls.  It smells faintly of the astringent soap Emmerich makes for his workshop, so she must have scrubbed up at the pump before coming down here to boil herself like a piece of recalcitrant laundry.  "It will keep a little longer."

"Mhm, well, in that case…"  She tilts her neck hopefully, and he happily takes up the invitation to knead at the back of her neck with a practiced hand.

Only to hiss, a moment later, at what he finds there.  "Mierda!  Your neck is like iron.  Have you been holding your head cocked again?  You know that isn't good for you."

"...probably," she admits, then immediately goes on the defensive.  "Look, 's just instinct, alright?  I know my depth perception's fucked and you know it's fucked but try convincing my sodding brain.  And you know the shit light down there doesn't help, had me jumpin' at fucking shadows even when I still had both eyes."

"I know, cara, but you're going to cause permanent damage to yourself if you don't break the habit."

"I know, I know.  I'll work on it, alright?"

"I will make sure of it," he threatens, then remembers the letter.  (Tell her, tell her!)  "Well.  There are exercises you could do, I think."

But she's twisting around to look at him, a faint frown marring the smooth line of her forehead.  "What was that?  You flinched."

Cazza.  "No I didn't."

"Yes you did, you tensed up for a second.  What's wrong?"

 Why he thought he had a hope of concealing anything from her, Lucanis doesn't know.  Always she has seen straight through him.  "I had a message from my grandmother this morning."

"Ah."  World of understanding in that single syllable.  "I'm guessing it wasn't 'season's blessings.'"

"No, it… no."

(TELL HER)

His hand has slipped down to her shoulder, and it slips away entirely as she gracefully rolls in the water, folding her arms on the lip of the pool so she can look up at him.  He no longer flinches at the ugly march of stitched tissue where her left eye used to be, but only because he knows how much it hurts her when he fails.  In time, her face will once again be only her face, more familiar and dearer than his own in the mirror.  Until then, the reminder of how close he came to losing her is his burden to bear.

"Talk to me, dovey.  What's goin' on?"

If there was a time he could deny her anything, it has long since passed.  "Caterina thinks I have dawdled enough.  It's time for the First Talon to return home."

Her eye widens slightly, but otherwise does not flinch, only finds his fingers with her own wet ones and strokes gently across his knuckles.  "And what does the First Talon think?"

When it comes right down to it, Lucanis has always been a coward when it matters most.  He closes his eyes so he cannot see the look on her face when Spite finally says, , "That she's right."

For a long, terrible moment, there is nothing but silence.  Her hand is motionless against his; there is no movement from her agile body, only the lap of the restless water against stone.  She is entirely still.

Then she lets out a grunt of acknowledgement.  "Alright then.  When do we leave?"

His eyes snap open.  She's still just looking up at him, pleasantly quizzical, head angled very slightly - cazza - to see the whole of his face.  "I wasn't-  You have other duties to attend to."

"No?  I've just been fillin' in where I can, nothing serious.  Oh.  Uh.  Unless-"  She draws her lower lip between her teeth, a maneuver he would find distracting under less trying circumstances.  "If this is your way of telling me gently, that you-  I mean, I can take a hint-"

It takes a full two beats for him to understand her implication.  "What?  No, tesoro, luce dei miei occhi-  No, never, no.  I only-"  (Say it right! Fix it!)  Lucanis takes a deep breath and does his best: "I only mean that you have a home here, work that matters to you, people to protect.  This is my burden.  I would not have asked."

"Lucanis."  She's giving him the same fondly exasperated look she used to sport whenever she found him in the training hall past midnight, Spite screaming a crescendo in his ears.  "I walked out of a prison built for gods because I heard you calling my name.  And you think I wouldn't follow you to Treviso?"

(TOLD YOU)

It's so strange to remember, now, how he used to think he wasn't built for happiness.  That he was missing some essential component that everyone else was born with, that thing Illario grasped so easily, the ability to feel joy and inspire it in others.  He knows better, now.  It's the easiest thing in the world, when you are with the right person.

"Pulled."

"What?"

He blinks innocently, working very hard to keep his smile hidden behind his teeth.  "Technically, you didn't walk out of the Fade.  You were pulled.  My wrist was sore for hours."

"Hours," Spite agrees loyally.

"You," she splutters, and then laughs, one of the deep belly laughs he loves so much, that makes Spite flatten and purr at the back of his skull.  "You're a pair of fuckin' arseholes," she tells them, and surges up out of the pool to press her laughing mouth to his.

(He doesn't even mind the water on his cuffs.)

[annaphoenix1994]

Vague History

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

With alien dryness irritating her eyes, Kiera slowly sat up in the bed, slowly realizing that it was now dusk. Have I been asleep that long? 

Seeing that Simon wasn't next to her, she began to wonder what had happened between the time Malcolm had come to the ranch and when she had gotten home, remembering that she was distraught about one of the many war stories she had told her father, except this one was the worst. Sighing, she forced herself to exit the bed, her mouth dry and her stomach growling for something to be inside of it. 

Almost as soon as she made it to the bedroom door, Simon was walking her direction with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a can of Dr. Pepper in the other. Oh, babe, you're speaking a love language doing that, she smiled to herself. "Since when do you eat popcorn?"  

"I asked you if you wanted some when I got up, love," He replied, his brows furrowing at her confusion. "I asked if you wanted anything when I got up and you said popcorn and one of these. Figured I'd put on a movie while you were sleeping." 

"Oh." She said, looking to the floor as her mind swarmed for an answer as to when she asked him for popcorn. 

"Do you not remember?"

She shook her head and rolled her shoulders in search of relief, sighing as Simon set the bowl of popcorn on the foot of the bed as well as the can of soda, frowning at the bags under her eyes and how red they stayed from her time of shedding tears. "Are you alright, love?" He asked, cupping her cheeks and locking his eyes with hers. He knew immediately that she was still dwelling on the past, wishing he hadn't asked if she was okay knowing that she would think about the struggles she was battling within her own head. 

"Y-Yeah," She replied, nodding her head that was still nestled in his hands. "How long was I asleep?"

"A good few hours. You needed it and more," He assured her. "I've been up for an hour." 

"Shit," She grumbled, shaking her head. "I should go down and feed the horses-"

"Don't worry about it. I did it." 

"You did? You? Mister I don't like horses?" She breathed a giggle. 

"Never said I didn't like them," He grinned. "I just don't like how they make my, you know, feel after I get off." 

"Well, I wouldn't know what that feels like, but thank you." 

"You're welcome, love. I need the experience." 

"Why?" 

"Because if I'm in your life, so is your livestock," He shrugged. "I'm here for all of it, sweetheart." 

He watched her blush, noticing how she leaned closer to him to press her head against his chest, inhaling his warm and inviting scent - something she was eager to wake up to for the rest of her life. His arms wrapped around her, kissing the top of her head as her grip on him was of something that reminded him of reassurance. He knew she was hurt in the worst way possible. 

Her state of mind. 

Which he was all-too familiar with. 

"What time is it?" He heard her mumble into his chest, enjoying his warmth too much to lean back and check the time herself. 

"A quarter past nine, love." He replied, his thumb rubbing the small of her back. She nodded, forcing herself to pull back to go to the bathroom and proceed with her usual routine. 

"I'm going to freshen up." 

"I figured that's what you were doing." 

She turned to look at him from the bathroom, a toothbrush in her hand and a confused look on her face, "What else would I be doing?" 

A sly smirk splayed across his face, "Well, considering you didn't know where you were when I woke you up, I figured you were thinking the bed was in there." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she watched him lay on his side of the bed, his arm behind his head as he crossed his ankles. "Might have to eventually get a new bed. Your feet are about to drape off the end of it." She poked. 

"No, it's because you have thirty pillows on here." He replied, turning on the television. 

"Can't help it. Especially when it feels like I'm sleeping on a rock." She retorted, referring to his muscled chest. 

"That's why you sleep up against me every night, yeah?" 

"Because if I don't, you'll be upset." 

"Keep telling yourself that, love," He chuckled, putting a piece of popcorn in his mouth. "I just won't cuddle you anymore if that's the case-"

"No," He watched her pout, thinking it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "I was just playing." 

"So was I," He smirked. "Or was I?" 

He knew he was helping distract her from her haunting thoughts, hoping it was helping as he did the same thing with Johnny when he was nervous while being isolated at times during a mission, always being the one to tell jokes over the comm to help keep him from feeling truly alone. 

He browsed around on her Netflix account, not finding anything of interest until he felt Kiera's presence closing in on him, feeling her move to where she was on top of him before going to nestle herself into his side, the smell of fresh mint on her breath and coconut dry shampoo in her hair. 

Naturally, her palm rested on his chest, ignoring the smell of popcorn but unable to resist the urge to drink the Dr. Pepper he had brought for her, waiting a few moments before sitting up to reach for it on the side table and moving to sit indian-style on the bed. "What're we watching?" 

"You tell me, love. I don't watch movies." He sighed, the remote resting on his stomach as he looked at the back of her head before glancing down to her back, imagining how well her skin was healing from the grafts. 

"Don't put that decision in my hands," She giggled. "I like watching scary movies. What about you?" 

"Don't ever recall watching one," He shrugged. "I told you - I don't watch movies." 

"Never seen a scary movie?" She smirked, looking over her shoulder. 

"No."

"Too scared?" 

He scoffed, placing his hand on the small of her back, "I can handle being in an active warzone being shot at and bombs going off, but watching a scary movie is where I draw the line." He retorted in a sarcastic tone.

"I know of something that does scare you." 

"Well, please tell me so I can know when I should hide under the bed." 

She smiled, setting the can of Dr. Pepper aside before nestling herself against his side, the familiar warmth of her mint-tinted breath drawing his face to look at her. "You were scared of loving me." 

He sighed, pulling her closer to his chest as he broke his gaze to look up at the ceiling, his eyes dazing in thought. "No I wasn't." 

"Mhm." She teased.

"I was afraid of losing you." 

His words caught her attention, Simon feeling her head straighten to look at him, knowing that the conversation was not teasing like it was prior. 

This was serious. 

"Why?" 

"I've experienced plenty of loss in my life, Kiera, but I've never been in love," He sighed, the thoughts of his mother, brother and nephew entering his mind, wishing they were still around for her to meet, knowing his mother would absolutely adore Kiera. Briefly, he thought about how Kiera would interact with his nephew, eager to see her motherly instincts. "I couldn't help the way I felt when you and I got close, but I wanted to push you away." 

She hummed in question. 

"Because everybody I kept close to me was taken." his breathing shuddered, having a sense that she was about to ask why, but to his surprise, she didn't.

Which was one thing he was appreciative about - her patience with him. 

"I'm sorry." She frowned, the pads of her fingers feathering against his sternum, soon feeling his hand covering hers. 

"Nothing to be sorry about, love. It's not your fault as to why my life is so fucked up." 

She didn't reply, truly having nothing to say as she knew her reply would spark nothing but a negative comment back. "I don't think your life is fucked up, Simon." 

"Believe me, it is," He sighed, bringing her palm up to his lips. "But you've kept me distracted from it. Although I'm reminded of it every night when I try to sleep." 

"I understand that." She replied, recalling her own nightmares. 

"I know." 

Her brows furrowed, "Do... Do I keep you up?"

"Sometimes," He replied. "But it doesn't bother me. I'm surprised I don't keep you up, but considering you sleep like a rock, I'm not surprised." 

She giggled, "Well, I'm sorry if I keep you up." 

"It's nothing to worry about," He sighed. "Are you going to pick a movie or not?" He poked. 

"I just might." 

She ended up picking "The Conjuring", the movie being one that genuinely freaked her out, but she wasn't going to let Simon know that, although she could tell that he was weirded out by the doll in the beginning, stating that he'd "sling it through the wall" if he ever got a doll like that as a gift. 

She couldn't blame him.

Her palm stayed on his chest, rubbing soothing circles against his shirt as he would be the one to drop a piece of popcorn in her mouth every now and then, enjoying her soothing touch as he felt the absence of it was enough to send him into emotional overdrive.��If you only knew how much head over heels I am for you, love, he would think every time she made a comment about a particular scene in the movie, occasionally feeling her jump at random scenes. 

Once the popcorn was gone, leaving nothing but leftover kernels in the bottom of the bowl, Simon kept his mind busy by toying with her hand, his thumb rubbing her ring finger like he always did, except it was her opposite hand that splayed on his chest. 

Instead of focusing his attention to the movie, his eyes stayed fixated on the scars on her knuckles and the top of her hand, his finger grazing over them gently, wondering the story behind them. 

"That one was from a knife fight." She answered him, taking notice of how his fingers grazed her skin, keeping her eyes towards the television. 

"Hope he lost." 

She chuckled, "Oh, he did. Him and his buddy, too." 

He joined her in a laugh, tracing his finger over the next scar that was on the outside of her wrist. "That one was from another fight. Fell in some glass." 

"Ruthless," He sighed, looking over at her to place a warm kiss to her forehead, noticing a faint scar on her hairline. "How'd you get this one?" 

"My face met with a wall. Not my idea," She shook her head. "Thought that fucker had me, but I got my way out of it." She continued, running her hand across his chest, feeling the scar on his left pectoral he had already told her about, tracing it with her finger before her hand traveled to his side, feeling an abnormal dip that was invisible to the eye, but foreign to the touch. "What happened to get this one?" 

He sighed, covering her hand over his ribcage and moving it back to lay on his chest, "Another time, love." 

Truly, he didn't want to recall how he had matching indentions on either side of his ribcage, nearly wincing at the thought as he swore it was the worst pain he ever had to endure. 

"I-I'm sorry." She frowned, curling her fingers into her palm, afraid to continue.

"It's okay, that's a story for another day," He assured her, keeping his haunting thoughts at bay before giving her his full attention to distract himself. "How long is left of this movie?" He asked, changing the subject.

"I'd say an hour," She sighed. "Although I probably won't make it 'til the end of the movie." 

"You need to rest," He said blankly. "We can always turn it off-"

"It's whatever you decide. Not like you're going to make it through to the end of the movie anyway with how heavy those eyelids look." 

»»-------¤-------««

Malcolm sat on his leather sofa, enjoying a glass of Wild Turkey as his enraged mind was desperate to distract his adrenaline from earlier. Loosening the bolo tie from around his neck, he began to wonder where he took his wrong turn in life, causing him to not only lose his marriage as well as rights to see his child, but also getting himself into yet another line of fire after coming home from the failed mission in Mexico. 

Unlike Kiera, Malcolm liked to rethink the times he had in battle, a smirk toying on his face as he would replay his best kills in his mind, taking pride in it.

Even though some of those kills were with ally forces. 

Licking his lips free of leftover bourbon, he peered down to his ringing phone, sighing at the caller ID before answering. "Yeah?" 

"It's been a few days, Malcolm," Shepherd scolded over the phone, a weight in his voice - clear that he was aggravated. "What's going on?" 

"Things like this take time, General. But it's not going easy, that's for sure." 

"What do you mean?" 

Malcolm sighed, "She found out I flew the plane, General. That's what I mean." 

A brief pause. 

"I need you to clarify." 

"I don't know how much clearer I can get," Malcolm scoffed. "She found out the plane was yours and that I flew it. She paid me a visit at my office the other day." 

"I'm afraid this is a problem that needs to be taken care of rather quickly," Shepherd grit. "I'm going to send you someone. And when he gets there, you two take care of it. Got me?" 

"Affirmative, but it's not going to be easy-"

"That's why I called you in the first place, Lieutenant," Shepherd corrected. "Do it like how I used to do in the service: send a message to the enemy, get them angry enough to come after you, then you demolish them at once." 

"Sounds tactical." Malcolm scoffed, knowing Shepherd's words were easier said than done. 

"It is tactical, son," Shepherd shouted. "I'm keeping this in your hands. Remember who you work for." He reminded, the words bringing realization to Malcolm that he couldn't just say no and back out due to Shepherd's blackmail on the Lieutenant, both of them being equally guilty in their career of war crimes, Malcolm's most recent being participating in the slaughter of the citizens of Las Almas on that rainy night, the thought chilling him to the bone every time it crossed his mind. 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. Now that we're on the same page, do as I suggest. Send a message. Have her so mad and tearing at the seams to get to you, then take her out. It's that simple." 

It's really not, Malcolm thought, knowing exactly who he was about to fight against. I don't know who I dread fighting more: her or that boyfriend looming over her.

"I'll get to it first thing in the morning." 

"As soon as possible would be preferable, son. We don't have much time." 

Don't fucking call me that, Malcolm grimaced. "Who are you even sending me?" 

Shepherd breathed a laugh, "You'll see. Be sure to hit her where it hurts. Put some thought into this, Lieutenant. I've got your back." 

We'll see about that. 

[pret-boy]

I'll just answer these straight up because NOBODY LIKES ME!

1. Anywhere with my bf is great but I would love an arcade date. I wanna beat his ass at games. Or get my ass beat. Either way it's fun.

2. I just listen to mentally ill Vocaloid producers and Japanese twinks given musical talent please don't ask me anything like this again.

3. Being accepted unconditionally.

4. Taken I love my boytoy malewife husband I keep him in a small enclosure.

5. Many because I'm very very arospec and I "crush" on people for like 3 hours max and move on. So it's like a fun movie experience to me. If we're talking crushes that lasted at least a week that'd be like... six as far as I remember. People I've dated included.

6. People who are the opposite of me. I like women who are cool and collected and don't fuck with me (and older ideally) and men who are sad wet cats and would die if I looked at someone else. I've only dated the latter though. But generally I also really like people who have a darker aesthetic (regardless of personality) because I have a cutesy aesthetic and visually those are fucking awesome together.

7. Extremely. I speedrun crushes. I will crush on someone 30 minutes into knowing them (happened with my ex btw) and lose the crush the next day. I don't even know if they count as crushes they're like just a fun little thing to spice up an otherwise boring day for me.

8. I honestly don't care. I'd like something wholesome and fluffy though, like festive movies. Christmas movies yay!

9. Sunflowers and lilies.

10. Neither you nor I know. No one does. Divine inspiration strikes me at random. I don't know what a musical note even is but I composed and played a short tune for my ex on our anniversary out of fucking NOWHERE because I wanted to surprise him.

11. Idk.

12. Anything and everything really but giving I'm more of a quality time and words of affirmation person (with acts of service on the side), receiving I like quality time too.

13. My bf's been calling me "darling" lately and it really melts me like fucking butter. So cute.

14. No.

15. Not at the moment actually. I've been busy so I haven't gotten into any new media and my old fictional crushes fizzled out. Does my bf's oc count? I'm obsessed with them.

16. Both are good I'm not picky. If I had to pick, quiet. It's cuter. Yeah boy quiet down. I like men who know their place and shut the fuck up. I really liked this guy in my class who sat next to me and this other girl and we would yap the whole time while he sat there with his knees pressed together and hands folded in his lap like a good little Victorian maiden, not even uttering a single word. Like yep thats a good man right there. Keep that up.

17. Every man I relate to is bisexual. Because I said so.

18. My boyfriend. Pizza.

19. Can't let the hoes know my music taste lest I scare them.

20. Idk. I get a lot. I guess my boyfriend saying I'm scary and he finds it hot is the best recent one.

21. ALL WHEN YOU'RE MY BOYFRIEND BECAUSE HE'S CUTE AS HELL!!!! But in general I love cheek kisses. I'm a serial cheek kisser. Toxic masculinity be damned my boy (me) can kiss his friends on their cheeks and hold them affectionately.

22. Back.

23. I won't say because it's an instant giveaway to who I am fr. I'm like the only man that insane about him.

24. NOTHING THAT BRINGS ME PLEASURE MAKES ME FEEL GUILT! I AM HEDONISTIC AND FREE!

25. I love PDA. Not hardcore making out in public or some shit but y'know.

26. Gently? Also with jokes and if I'm upset because of someone, hate on them and tell me you will hex them and they're ugly and doomed to die alone while I'm beautiful and a winner and god's favorite (all very true btw). I love envisioning my opps' downfalls.

27. PSYCHOLOGICAL TORTURE! PLAYFUL BULLYING! PUTTING MY BELOVEDS IN A CAGE! BEING INSANE! YAPPING ABOUT THEM 24/7! MAKING THEM SCARED! MAKING THEM CRY! WAITING FOR THEM TO COME BACK WHEN THEY'RE BUSY! MAKING TIME FOR THEM! SENDING THEM THINGS THAT REMIND ME OF THEM! TELLING THEM ABOUT MY FATHER (I FUCKING HATE MY FATHER)! And of course comforting them and making them feel safe. Also beating the shit out of my loved one's enemies (for real) and praying on their misery. I have a lot of loving sadism in my heart but also I'm a sweetheart angel who loves people unconditionally and doesn't know what the word grudge means. Unless you're mean to my loved ones then I'll fucking kill you.

28. Both. Whatever my bf wanna be I'll be the opposite I'm a very accomodating and flexible man.

29. I love sad wet cat pathetic loser men so much I wish they were real.

mlm ask game!

1. ideal date location?

2. favorite mlm song?

3. what makes you feel loved?

4. are you single or taken?

5. how many crushes have you had?

6. what's your type?

7. do you develop crushes quickly?

8. best show or movie for a date night at home?

9. what are your favorite flowers?

10. what would you give as a gift on an anniversary?

11. what's your favorite album?

12. what's your love language?

13. what are some pet names that make you blush?

14. do you read fanfiction?

15. any fictional crushes?

16. loud boys or quiet boys?

17. any characters you headcanon as mlm?

18. what's your comfort food?

19. last song you listened to?

20. best compliment you ever received?

21. kiss on the lips, cheek or forehead?

22. scalp massage or back massage?

23. any celebrity crushes?

24. what's your guilty pleasure?

25. do you like PDA?

26. how do you prefer to be comforted?

27. favorite way to express affection?

28. big spoon or little spoon?

29. freebie! ask or prompt to share something random

[novankenn]

The TA -- Joan(Jaune) Arc

Artwork Inspired Posts - First / Second / Third / Fourth

(Artwork created/owned by @pilot-boi, No rights Claimed/Implied by the author of this story)

Joan(Jaune) wanted to leave as soon as they reached the infirmary, but she choose to stay. She was a little worried about what happened to Ms Nikos, but she was more afraid of what Aunt Glynda would do if she returned with out the trio of students she was supposed to be supervising.

After a quick look over, Pyrrha was roused with the use of some smelling salts. The nurse then informed them she would return in about fifteen minutes for one final check before letting them leave. So as Pyrrha's teammates, well really just one teammate unloaded barrage after barrage about what happened, and how she was feeling. Joan(Jaune) sat in a very uncomfortable plastic chair, tapping her foot on the tiled floor.

"So..." Pyrrha looked past Nora at Joan(Jaune), "You are really a girl?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Pyrrha hesitantly asked again.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" Joan(Jaune) answered standing up and approaching the bed Pyrrha was laid upon. "Like seriously, why..."

"The boobs, or the lack of them." Nora interrupted.

"I have boobs!" Joan(Jaune) snapped.

"Not from what I..." Nora didn't get a chance to finish as Joan(Jaune) grabbed her by the wrists, pulling her hands towards her chest. Nora's eyes went wide when she felt the heavily softness under her hands, "You do... "

"Anyone else need to feel me up?" Joan(Jaune) asked as she released her grip on Nora.

"Can I do that again?" Nora asked.

"What? No!"

"Please?" Nora begged, "I'll share my pancakes with you?"

"Huh?" Joan(Jaune) took a step back a little creeped out by the orange haired girl. "Is she okay?"

"That's just how Nora is." the lone male in the room, informed Joan(Jaune). "You'll get used to it. I'm Ren by the way."

Joan(Jaune) gave Ren a sideways look.

"I'm sorry, about all this." Pyrrha offered with a soft and sad smile. "I didn't mean to upset you..."

"You annoyed me. Not upset." Joan(Jaune) responded, before asking, "So what was your malfunction?"

"Excuse me?" Pyrrha asked as Ren acted as a buffer between Nora's grasping hands, and Joan(Jaune).

"Just what I asked."

"I don't... understand the question?"

'Why did you freak when you found out I was a woman?" Joan(Jaune) asked, while leaning in to look Pyrrha right in the eyes. "You have pretty eyes."

"Because of stuff like that!" Pyrrha yelped her face growing flushed with color.

"What not used to be complimented?"

"No... it's... because... um... fuck it!" Pyrrha snapped. "You say stuff like how I'm hot and shit, and I'm get interested and then... I like men! I can't be attracted to a woman, even if her ass if so delicious!"

"Okay." Joan(Jaune) stood up straight, sucked on her front teeth before speaking. "If you like guys, that's great. I like guys, but that does NOT meant you can't find people of the same sex also attractive."

"But..."

"Are you really that repressed?" Joan(Jaune) asked, with a roll of her eyes. "Listen Pyrrha. I can find you hot. I can find Nora adorable, and Ren handsome. Do you follow?"

"I'm adorable? and Ren's handsome? Way to put out the moves Joan(Jaune)-Joan(Jaune)!" Nora cheered finally having given up on molesting Joan(Jaune)'s chest again.

Ren just stood there one eyebrow raised.

"I think so?" Pyrrha answered.

"Good. NOW just because you like my ass doesn't mean your suddenly going to try and make a move on me. It means you find something attractive about me. You follow?"

"Yes?"

"No you're not." Joan(Jaune) sighed. "Do you find men or women more desirable?"

"Ah... um..."

"Did you grow up in a convent or something?" Joan(Jaune) sighed out. "Fine. would you rather do this with a guy?"

Before Pyrrha could answer Joan(Jaune) rounds about hooks her hands behind Ren's head and neck and pulls him into a heated, breath stealing kiss. It last only for about ten seconds, before Joan (Jaune) breaks contact.

"You... kissed... Rennie..." Nora whimpered as she just stood there, watching her life long friend weave on his feet.

"Or would you do it with a woman?" Joan(Jaune) asked as she closed on Pyrrha, slipping her arms around Pyrrha's shoulders and neck, to give her a sizzling deep kiss.

Pyrrha's mind screamed in confusion. Joan(Jaune) was kissing her! She was being kissed and the lips felt so soft and tasted delicious. Her tongue... WAIT her tongue!!!

Nora stood in utter shock, as Joan(Jaune) had moved from making out with Rennie, to some heavy duty face-sucking with Pyrrha. The lip-lock broke after again only lasting about ten seconds or so.

"As you can see. I'm fine with girls or boys... did she just pass out again?" Pyrrha's eyes had rolled up into her head and she lay limp on the bed, her lips slightly parted, and moist with saliva.

"RENNIE!" Nora shrieked when Ren just finally collapsed to the floor in a limp heap. "KISS OF DEATH!!!! KISS OF DEATH!!!"

"Huh?" Joan(Jaune) turns from Pyrrha to see Ren on the floor. "Shit!"

"I must feel their heavenly form again before you steal my soul with your succubus ways!" Nora cried out as she lunged for Joan(Jaune), her hands in front of her, with her fingers spread wide.

"SHIT!" Joan(Jaune) cried out as she tried to keep away from the suddenly very energetic organette.

(A/N - Okay I've been pushing in my head for a female!Jaune stealing a kiss from Ren in front of Nora, since forever. It has now happened. My life is complete! Wonder what Weiss is going to say with Nora's new fascination? Any way hope you're all enjoying this unplanned chaos.)

[triglycercule]

horror being very specific with table manners and he berates people (dust and killer) for eating like fucking pigs

i think it'd be morbidly funny that because there was no food in horrortale but the cutlery and stuff was all there that maybe he would pretend to eat with no food on the plate. it was in a satirical way that he would joke maybe around horror paps or alone where he would pretend to eat and have really good table manners but then the satire joke became REAL and now horror is incredibly specific about how to eat food

you MUST hold the fork in the left and knife in right says horror. no killer you can't duel wield the fucking knives this is a table not a slaughterhouse. dust pick up your elbows off the table. actually how about you get your entire upper body off the table tf why are you SLEEPING ON THE FOOD??? killer's sitting fetal position in the chair because of course he wouldn't sit normally like the idiot he is. dust is forced to put his hood down and reveal his face no more mysterious shadow style because it puts horror at ease. they cannot have a single peaceful meal because once they get past the table manners phase it then becomes a completion to see who can eat the least (because they suck at everything including eating)

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Just to minimize my chances of being genuinely misunderstood OR deliberately misinterpreted, and crucified for something I don't think, How Dare You Say We Piss on the Poor website etc...I'm gonna say this right up top. I absolutely understand why people don't like Thessaly as a character, if anyone does completely unironically stan her as some kind of feminist hero who Did Nothing Wrong uwu, I personally see it as a bit of a red flag. I don't like terfs real or fictional. In a vacuum, I could even completely sympathize and agree with the people who want her cut.

HOWEVER.

It's really something to me to see people clamoring for her to be cut, because she carries and expressed an ugly indefensible prejudice (transphobia) in words towards (1) person. Meanwhile Hob fucking Gadling enacted one of the most violent forms of antiblack racism I can even think of against thousands no, millions of people, the ripple effects of which still affect billions more today. Just a little light idk, profiting off the fucking slave trade and had to be told by someone else that it was bad...and he's a fan favorite.

People are saying Thessally being Dream's love interest reflects badly on him or is somehow endorsement by the narrative (?!?!?!?!?!? Didn't she (SPOILER ALERT AS IF IT MATTERS BY NOW) help participate in his extended assisted suicide? She's not painted as a great person to me just another character what are y'all SMOKING whatever fine. It's fine this is fine.) But shipping Dream with Mr. Former Slaver is not only not verboten or frowned on widely in the fandom but its THEE most popular pairing by far. So...why the difference?

Like where are the same fans who are saying Thessaly shouldn't just be more clearly shown to be wrong, she shouldn't even be in the show at all when it comes to Hobert's crimes??? Yes, transphobia is indefensible. Isn't racism?

And I hear the cries of "it's fiction!!!" Already rallying (if anyone who needs to hear this even sees it lol) to which I say:

HORSESHIT. I KNOW you don't, deep down, really agree because if you did, why get upset about Thessaly being included??? Why does what she said to one person matter if it's Just Fiction You Guyze. Fictional characters are allowed to do bad things and fiction isn't reality sweaty....except when you only apply that standard to fictional racists you like and simp for, but fictional transphobes you don't are SO HARMFUL they shouldn't even be portrayed in fiction.

Like. Give me a big fat BREAK. This looks like bullshit, no? I'm sorry, but I'd love for someone to try and give any other explanation besides one personally offended you or hit home for you, and the other doesn't.

And if that bothers you or you feel like it says something negative about you...idk what you want me to say??? You can't control how other people perceive you and that's how people outside this majority-of-the-fandom bubble see it. You don't need to respond, I just wish and genuinely hope this gives you a moment to think about why fans who ARE bothered by both (and not just paying lip service to being bothered by the one but railing against the other) are so frustrated with people saying everyone is welcome but in practice only bending over backwards for the comfort and emotions of themselves, and people they can easily relate to.

You don't have to like Thessaly (I don't. I find her an interesting antagonist, I don't stan her. And frankly imo likability is not. the point of her character) but you'll pardon me for feeling more than a bit cynical and side eying people's motivations for what seems a...pretty obvious double standard, on what fictional crimes related to real world issues matter to y'all, and which clearly don't. Either actually bring the same energy to the table for fictional people who committed atrocities, even if against a group you're not part of and thus don't feel the need to empathize with, or just carry on, but accept that you don't have the SLIGHTEST room to talk about cutting characters who do immoral things. And you also need to accept that you look like a hypocrite when you do.

[evilminji]

Definitely! Way I figure it? They are actually? SUPER LOUD in the exact opposite direction? Anikin is Producing Noise like a megaphone, while SI-OC is RECEIVING noise? Like a massive speaker system?

But! Critically? BOTH are being ACTED UPON by outside forces to create that Noise! Anikin is YELLING because he is TRYING TO BE HEARD OVER ALL THESE OTHER PEOPLE! Who are all TALK SO VERY LOUDLY. WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S QUITE IN HERE? NO ITS NOT. ITS SO LOUD!

All those life forms. All the noise they make. It cacophonous.

SI-OC though? She can't hear SHIT from THEM. No, she hear ONE(1) NOISE. All the time. And it? Is? THE VOICE OF SPACE GOD.

BOOMING.

Consuming.

How could ANYONE focus on anything ELSE? It's like the voice of a planet. A star system. A galaxy and universe and REALITY AND-!!!

The Force is LOUD in her head. Anyone listening near her? Runs the risk of getting dragged in. Taken for a ride. Losing a few hours and learning a few deeply uncomfortable life lessons. Getting a few spiritual revelations perhaps.

But! Can an speaker produce sound into a megaphone? Yes. And if it's LOUD enough? It'll drown everything else put. Be the only input.

The analogy breaks down. Yet? Like Matter and Antimatter. Like opposite charges. A clear reaction. They don't have to be friends. Don't have to understand each other. Like each other. To NEED each other. But? It probably helps.

Anikin could ABSOLUTELY shield her mind. He is VERY clearly powerful enough. The Force would listen. But? It would turn it's attention? To HIM.

See what she sees, Anikin. It's basically meditation for you, Anikin. Get some time and distance from your upset, a chance to calm down and remember your compassion, Anikin.

Of course? If we still wanted his story to end in tragedy? That makes it all the WORSE. That not killing Palpatine, that not stopping Order 66, not just costs him his wife? His friends? His mentor? But ALSO?

His spiritual other half. The Balance. The Oracle. Weak to his strong, strong to his weak. Someone who understands being "chosen" by the Force? Is a terrible thing indeed. Someone he never intended to hurt. Wouldn't have killed.

Someone he NEEDED. Like air. Like vital organs.

Because without them? The screaming in his head? NEVER STOPS. Because now he is not only ALONE? But he is in a hell he can't escape from. The very Force itself, no longer speaking to him. It answers. He can force it to obey.

But it no longer loves him.

(Oh, you tragic thing. Yes. Yes it does. It never stopped. You just can't hear it anymore.)

Course, if we want to go the OTHER way? Anikin getting to go on Force Enforced Spiritual Roadtrips? Probably with all sorts of various Force Sects Worshipers who've died? Really broadens his horizons. Makes for a very? BALANCED view of the Force.

.....and a VERY informed view on the Sith. Since like... SO MANY of them died to those bastards. He uuuuuh..... hey, Obi-Wan? Not to alarm you, or anything, but he's? Started to recognize a few of the statues and stuff in the Chancellor's office? And he's not sure how to bring it up... D:>

*Paternal Kill Bill Sirens start going off* .....oh?

Star Wars Thingy!

Inspired by @evilminji

So, they often talk about a SI who is force sensitive, right? But what if they just, aren't? Not in any meaningful way, beyond what all life is capable of, anyway.

Abandoned at the Jedi temple, they do not fit in, yet do you truly see the Jedi turning a child in need away?

So the SI wanders the temple where they do not belong venturing deeper. Deeper still. Falls down, as they are clumsy as all children are. Into a Force Nexus. Which are, according to Minji, Luminous Light. That SI lacks the sight to see, but much like radiation it still impacts them.

... Idk where to go from there.

@hdgnj @spidori @mayfay @hypewinter

@itshype @dragonsrequiem