#other times its just an incomprehensible mess of sounds or letters

[killerskillercaptain]

Embarrassing moments w/ Levi Ackerman BOOK II

I only put one incident in this one because inspiration was running wild and things got out of hand, so enjoy !

You can read BOOK ONE here

word count : 1,9K

warnings : implicit seggsual themes, slight angst.

The client incident

Erwin had put you and Levi on a special mission; both of you received one letter from the commander urging you to go meet Balkus Adomas, a businessman whom Erwin was used to work with to get funds for the SC, and god knows the Survey Corps needed that financial support lately. With all the casualties, injured horses and used up equipment you lost in your encounter with the female titan, you could definitely use some help, any help actually.

The letter instructed Levi to tie up the negotiations, as Erwin had already sent a letter to Balkus, stating the nature of the visit; the letter also instructed Levi to take you with him to officialize everything on legal documents.

Levi sent one letter back to Erwin asking the commander about the nature of the business this man held. Three days later, the response consisted of a short sentence that wasn’t very helpful, and its vagueness didn’t make Levi happy; he hated being kept in the dark about the people he needed to work with.

The letter only said « « You’ll know when you get there »

The next morning, right after dawn, you and Levi were already on your horses, heading to the small town situated in the west, where the businessman was to be found. It was a good four hours ride, but you were accustomed by now to even longer distances.

Reaching your destination, Levi followed Erwin’s instructions, it didn’t take long for you two to find the location. Heading towards the main entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the frowning faces locals threw at you while passing you by. The place was an old, seemingly neglected property, it didn’t look like a business run by a rich businessman who could land money to the military, and you could sense that levi was thinking the same. You stood there studying the poorly maintained building for a moment until the main door suddenly flew open and a little round man, probably in his forties appeared with a dangling woman at his arm, the woman was laughing uncontrollably while planting kisses alongside the man’s neck, both of them completely ignoring the accusing stares being directed towards them.

Is this a tavern ?

Wait no.

You felt your legs tremble a little, and you suddenly felt embarrassed at the realization : it was a brothel. And the cheap kind by the looks of it.This Balkus Adomas runs a freaking brothel. Slightly alarmed, as this was completely out of your comfort zone, you glanced nervously at Levi who didn’t show any sign of tension. But little did you know, the short man was infuriated and boiling under the surface.

You on the other hand, were visibly stressed out. In a moment of hesitation you wanted to grab Levi’s hand like a child lost in an adult place but you managed to hold your composure, and decided to follow him by staying as close as possible to him. Levi headed rapidly to a broad bearded man, he looked like he was the receptionist or something of the sort, Levi asked if he could see Adomas.

" You should have been notified we were coming, we’re sent by Erwin Smith "

" Yes, yes this good old’ Erwin Smith, he said he’ll send someone ! "

The way the man said « good old’ Erwin Smith » made it look somewhat suspicious, and you wondered if the commander was fond of such places as it hardly seemed so to you.

" Well Lord Adomas is not here now, but you can wait for him, he comes early in the morning to do some accounting, as you see, the business is running wild lately "

" You can spend the night here if you want " he added.

You felt Levi tense up.

" Erwin will hear me about it, making us stay the night, not even being able to get an appointment correctly " you heard Levi mumble to himself between greeted teeth. You could clearly see now that this place is stressing him just as much.

" Don’t worry, Erwin Smith has always been good to us, intervening for us every time something threatened to close this place, and get Lord Adomas out of business, so we owe him big time "

You somehow got reassured that this was the nature of their connection to Erwin.

" I’m gonna give you a room to stay in for the night for free, it’s on the house "

He dangled a golden key in front of us, but when levi reached out to take it, the man retracted his hand behind the counter, a mischievous smile contorting his lips.

" Unless you want to spend the night as a customer Captain Levi ? "

Levi snatched the key from the man who now turned to you, completely ignoring the short captain.

" Hey miss, you’re not bad either, have you ever thought about leaving the army ? We could get you a job here, you’ll see, Lord Adomas treats his employees with extra care " he ended his speech with a nasty tone that had you both in such discomfort that you could almost feel Levi’s anger and you shivered at the way he said extra care. Dragging you by the collar of your military jacket, Levi headed with you towards the stairs, in search for the right bedroom while you followed him closely. As you were afraid of; the walls were incredibly thin in this place, and discernible sounds could be heard from each door. A series of thuds, creaks and lewd voices which you did your best to ignore, while you and the captain hurried to find the right door. Being here with Levi made this whole situation so much more uncomfortable, and right now, you cursed yourself for being the only person capable (and available) to do the paperwork, you hated that you were in charge, you hated that your signature was required, you-

" Here’s the shitty door "

You looked at the door, it was situated at a fair distance from the others, but didn’t look as damaged, maybe it didn’t get used a lot, or at least you hoped.

A demanding and urgent female voice erupted suddenly, close enough that both of you could hear it clearly. You tried to ignore how shaky your legs were now, you tried to focus on Levi opening the door but your eyes met a trembling Levi having difficulties opening the door, his hand too shaky to insert the key right, obviously he was just as startled as you were. When both of you finally heard a reassuring click, he slammed open the door with a "Tch"!

" Can’t believe this mess Erwin put us in, he’ll hear me about it ! "

You followed him inside. The room seemed fairly in order, didn’t seem to be too dusty, you sighed in relief, but your relief was short-lived, it sure wasn’t dusty but it did look completely unsanitary, no wonder this place gets threatened to be closed so often.

" Tch ! I’m taking fifty showers after this, and i’m gonna scrub my feet with Erwin’s- "

" Um Captain ? "

" WHAT ? " he asked harshly, getting you a bit startled by his tone.

Hey don’t lash out at me, it’s not my fault we’re in this mess.

" There’s only one bed "

" You can have it, i’m not sleeping in this filth "

" Neither do i , Captain " you said picking up a long strand of hair from the pillow and studying it before tossing it aside. The place was filthy.

But to both your consolation, there were two chairs made out of wicker that seemed not too risky to use.

You took the one on the left, Levi took the one on the right before looking at you.

" We’ll wait here until this Adomas piss of shit shows up so we can get it done with the paperwork and get out of this filthy hell " and those were the only words he spoke to you for the rest of night.

You were already feeling a bit sleepy, all the exhaustion caused by the trip creeping back to you. You had dozed off for what seemed like half an hour before you were awaken by new sounds rising abruptly from the next room. You jolted in your seat, the unsettling sounds of moans and boastful voices filling the room quickly, followed by a string of giggles, then another string of incomprehensible moany gibberish. You couldn’t make up a single word but you understood all too well the activities taking place in the other room. Still trying to compose yourself and get rid of the embarrassment sucking you in you right now, you suddenly remembered that you weren’t alone in the room, and turned quickly to look for the captain.

Levi was still sitting in his chair, you realized he had moved it away from you, almost placing himself at the other corner of the room, his fists tightening on his knees, he had the most irritated expression you’ve ever seen on his face, he looked like he was ready to snap a neck in half. Was it possible that he has been awake the entire time while you were sleeping ? Having to listen to the most indecent events going on next door ?

He was staring right in front of him, he looked as if he was trying to avert your gaze, afraid that a single stare shared between you two at this moment would aggravate the discomfort, and he was spot on.

Now the lewd voices were joined by the most obscene of sounds. You could feel your face, your hands and everything in between grow hot, you tried your best to keep a steady composure and not look at Levi who was incredibly silent at the other end of the room. Damn it, the smutty opera next door got you so alert you couldn’t even hope to sleep it off so you don’t have to endure this unbearable atmosphere.

You stayed like this until dawn. You and the captain, sitting stiff with both your hands glued to your thighs like two Egyptian statues while the auditory nuisance went on, all fucking night.

For a brief moment you heard Levi mutter something that you deciphered as « Erwin you piss of shit, you’re gonna pay for this»

--

You did get to Balkus Adomas the next day at the crack of dawn, he did accept to continue supporting the Scouts, you did go through the administration stuff you were dragged in here for. You even had Adomas make the same suggestion to you as the bearded receptionist; offering you to leave your uncomfortable scouting uniform for something else, vaunting about how much you can get paid in one night here, nothing like you meager salary at the Scouts for sure ! At one point you literally had to forcefully take off his hand that he sneakily placed on the small of your back. At the sight of it, Levi snatched the documents, handed a copy to Adomas and hurried you and himself out of the place.

Back to HQ, you were happy to reunite with your bed, ready to recover from last night. You shared your quarters with Petra, laying on your mattress, you filled her in about what happened to you with the captain as she bursted with laughter at every detail you gave her.

The next day, Levi was nowhere to be found as you went to his office as usual. You asked one of the soldiers where if he'd seen the captain and he just shrugged his shoulders, saying that Levi left a message for you as the soldier gave you a folded piece of paper.

« Going to see Erwin for a special meeting ».

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 2]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

Collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“this chick is crazy...and I kinda dig it“

It’s been four days since the incident and he’s all but forgotten about it, removed it from his memory entirely as if girls hide from police in his car on a regular basis. 

Today is colder than usual, and his body has been quick to respond to the change, aching around the joints. Some days it’s impossible to move, feeling his clothes and sandpaper and housing spikes as joints. Thankfully, today isn’t that bad, the pain is rather manageable. Which checks out well for him, considering he has to do some cleaning around his apartment. His skin itched at the sight of the mess his living space has become over the last few weeks he hasn’t been bothered to pick up the strewn about items or wash the dishes in the sink. 

Standing in his living room, he turns in a circle, taking in the disaster that is surrounding him. His chest tightens, throat closing up due to the overwhelmingness of the work he has ahead of him while all he wants to do is hide in his room, under the blankets of his bed that is for sure not willing to offer him much comfort at the moment, seeing as how it too is a mess. 

Forget about that! He isn’t sure if his mind is telling him to forget the task he has at hand or the comfort he has in mind. Either way, he knows what the right thing to do is. It may give him anxiety, but it has to be done. 

He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, taking deep measured breaths and exhaling slowly just like his doctor had instructed him to do, in hopes to ease the tension around his lungs. 

Calming down a bit, he finally decides to get on with it, starting with the smallest space he has to clean, hoping accomplishing a small victory would fuel his ambition to move onto the actual rooms with a lesser struggle. So, pulling on his favorite hoodie and a beanie over his black curls, he slips out of the front door and down the stairs of his apartment complex with a trash bag in hand. He may hate cleaning, but he hates messes more, therefore it’s an easy call to make. Easy when putting the two in comparison, a struggle when he actually has to get on with the process of cleaning. 

With a deep breath as a final ‘You got this’ before action, he unlocks his car doors and looks around its interior. He starts off with the junk in the front - first tending to the passenger seat where he finds a couple plastic bags and a few water bottles. He keeps the area around the driver’s seat clean as can be, so he skips that side. Unfortunately, now he has to turn to the nightmare that is the backseats. 

While it may be tame, compared to most, the three paper bags, five disposable coffee cups that he’d dropped to the floor are more than enough to annoy him. He also makes a frustrating find of a hoodie, a few shirts, a hat, and what appears to be a forgotten CVS bag of medication. Much to his dismay, there’s more: handfuls of old receipts that he is now shoving into the garbage bag he has in hand along with straw wrappers, a few stray cold fries dating back to God-knows-when. He sighs, somewhat relieved to see the backseat is doing a lot better now than it was a couple minutes ago, though it’s not even entirely clean just yet. Something catches his eye though - a choker that was probably covered by one of the clothing items he had found. He picks it up, turning it over in his hand. It’s made of soft leather with a gunmetal ”C” and a pentagram embossed on it. It has a leather braided cord on both ends to tie together and no price tag or brand to indicate its origin. He can’t remember buying this...but then again, retail therapy is a thing and it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot a purchase. He gives it one final once-over before shrugging and pocketing it. After collecting the headphones he’d also dumped in the back and retrieving a pair of boots from the trunk, he locks up his car and heads back into the building, mentally preparing himself for facing the terror of cleaning his apartment.

Returning to his place after tossing the trash in the dumpster along the way, Corpse locks the front door behind him and proceeds to drop the things he’s brought back near the front door. 

This defeats the purpose of cleaning up in the first place, Corpse. He scolds himself but that’s what it remains at - just a scold. He slips the hoodie off his torso, but pauses when the leather collar falls to the floor. Tossing the clothing item on a dining room chair behind him, he picks up the choker and, without as much as a second thought, places it around his throat just below his Adam’s apple The metal feels cool against his skin and as he ties the leather cords at the back of his neck the corners of his lips curve upwards just a little. 

I probably look stupid. He thinks to himself. Corpse tries not to look much at his own reflection, mostly because it’s a reminder of how little sleep he gets with the dark circles and worn out, exhausted eyes staring back at him whenever he looks. But when he catches a glimpse of himself in his peripheral on his way to piss, he admires his reflection, or more so the way the black leather stands out across his pale skin. He’s gotta admit, it looks pretty cool. Edgy. Very urban. Goth maybe? But he still prefers the chains he’s known to wear over chokers.

After doing his business, he starts heading toward his office with the intention of recording a new story for his channel if he manages to find a decent submission - and also to ignore the cleaning he still had to do eventually - when the sound of someone banging on the door of his neighbor’s apartment makes him jump, thinking the sound was coming from his door instead. Being the nosey bitch he is, he creeps to his door, listening to the muffled and almost completely incomprehensible voices from across the hall. The screaming match taking place is making him rather nervous and anxious and as much as he’d rather hide in his room and pretend he never heard or saw anything, he also doesn’t want the altercation to escalate into anything physical. 

“You fucking bailed on me!” An angry female shout dominates over the other voice, a male one, that’s quick to follow the previous example with the tone volume.

“You almost got caught, it's not my fault you screwed up!” It’s the male’s turn to shout, his words intriguing Corpse.

Got caught? Screwed up what?

“Fuck you! You don’t just ditch like that! That’s such a dick move!” 

Ditched? If it wasn’t for the ‘getting caught’ part I would’ve thought it was a flopped date?

“I wasn’t about to get arrested for your klepto ass! I’m done with your shit!” The male voice takes the upper hand again, and though the female attempts to speak, she’s promptly cut off by the male, “No! No, I said I’m fucking done! Get the fuck out of my apartment!” A loud bang that sounded remarkably like a chair being flipped over made Corpse jump again with his thoughts once again racing to try and make sense of the situation. 

Klepto? So she’s a thief. Great. He rolls his eyes, not that he needed a reminder that he lives in a bad neighborhood, but he sure got it. He inhales slowly, finally deciding to check the aftermath in the hallway. Again, it isn’t his business whatsoever, but he can’t rest easy until he knows there isn’t an injured person outside his door right now. He peeks out the peephole before unlocking the door and sticking his head out to see a long haired individual still standing in front of his neighbor’s door. They have their back turned to him and are getting prepared to start banging on the door once again. 

“Little scared-ass bitch! I’ll be back for my shit!” She screams, kicking the door to punctuate her point. 

This chick is absolutely nuts. Everything in his gut is telling him to turn around and go back inside but his brain’s less-rational side is convincing him to check on her. He carefully steps into the hallway, swallowing nervously as he reaches out to tap her shoulder. “Are um-...you okay?”

The girl whips around, a furious expression on her face. Corpse makes a pause, his eyes widening at the sight of that familiar face.

Holy shit, I know this girl. 

Standing in front of him is the girl who leaped into the backseat of his car only a few days ago. 

Shit! What are the odds? 

She’s wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a cropped sweatshirt with the quote “Mercury’s in Gatorade or Some Shit” written in bold letters and a solar system around it, with a leather jacket on top. 

His mouth dries when he makes a realization... 

Oh fuck. She’s way prettier in the natural light instead of that ugly light I saw her in that night. 

“Oh hey! Parking lot guy! What are y-...is that my choker?” She interrupts herself, looking closer at the black leather on his pale skin, her brows furrowing. He’d forgotten he was even wearing it to be honest, but she seems to recognize it. “That’s my fucking choker, dude! I’ve been looking everywhere for it!” She reaches up seemingly with the intention of taking it off him, causing his whole body to freeze up.

Finally finding his senses, Corpse takes half a step back, eyes slightly widened, “Woah, hey! Easy there, I’m pretty sure I bought this.” He warns, hands hesitantly held out in front of himself to try and create some distance between them. 

She seems not to take the hint at his desire for personal space as she reaches out again, stepping closer. “No, I made it with my own two hands, man! It’s got a C on it for my name - Cora.” She says sharply to the point of anger that honestly frightens him a bit. 

He quickly unties the leather straps, removing it from his neck. However, he refuses to give it back so easily as he holds it up out of her reach. 

Maybe if it isn’t on me she won’t be all up in his personal space. Yeah, it’s a bit evil, but he didn’t care. Besides, part of him is still mad about the fact she used his car as a hiding spot, shooting his anxiety through the roof in the process. 

“I feel like you owe me for those fries you stole last time we saw each other. Make it up to me and I’ll give it back. If it’s even yours, that is...” He says, brows furrowing slightly and eyes narrowing as he takes another step back. “And, you know, for nearly getting me busted by the police for something I wasn’t even a part of.” 

Sure, he was talking but her eyes are wandering analyzing him: first the silver chains around his neck that glimmer in the light and his dark hair, strands dangling carelessly as a curtain over his face. 

He too finds himself admiring her, memorizing her features better in this light. She has olive skin and sports a little bit of a tan. Stray locks of wavy dark brown hair hang around her ears having come loose from her messy bun. She has earthy brown eyes with flecks of green that he can’t help but stare at, despite their current sharpness. Her right arm is decorated with a few small tattoos: a skull of some sort of animal that appears to be puking flowers; a small cartoon t-rex floating via many colorful balloons and a brain with a spiky spiral in the center of it. She has a single line drawn around her pinky finger on the hand of the other arm and the shadowy silhouette of a forest around her wrist. However, the one thing Corpse could see better than all of that, was she is pissed. 

“Gimme my fucking choker back! I paid you for those fries, it’s not my fault you spent them on douchebag lessons!” She snaps, hopping to try and grab his arm. 

She is pressed up against him now, a wave of perfume hitting him when she attempts another jump. He holds the choker higher, maybe even subconsciously, just enjoying the warm presence of another body for as long as possible - not that he’d admit that. 

Corpse’s brief content comes crashing down as he stumbles backwards when he feels something hard on his hip and her hands grabbing at the front of his shirt. 

“Wait-“ He tries to say, but is cut off when a good amount of weight pulls at his jeans. “Oh Fuck!” He rasps out, dropping the choker as he slams onto the floor. In the split second he spared to take a breath, his pants had been yanked down to his knees and his neck was crooked up against his door. He’s now lying on the floor as the girl hovers over him having landed with her hand on top of his head and one leg over his chest while the other is pinning his arm down.

While remaining unmoving under the girl, he takes a moment to let the previous five seconds sink in before replaying them in his mind:

This small woman, Cora she said her name was, had put the boot clad toes of her left foot into the pocket of his baggy jeans to use as a stepping stool. In turn, they were shoved down, effectively pantsing him and tearing the pocket before knocking them both to the floor. 

Corpse leans against his door, jeans still around his knees, hair a mess as he watches Cora stand up from where she’d practically tackled him and equip the choker. 

“Serves you right.” She sticks her tongue out, tying the piece of jewelry behind her neck. “Now get up before someone calls the cops, we both know what happens then.” She rolls her eyes and bends down, offering her hands to help him up after he situated his trousers.

“Ah-um...I-...” anxiety started reigning in his chest and head as he realized everything that had happened. He takes both her hands and she uses all her weight to pull him up. Her pull was so strong that when he stood up, he had to hold her tight to keep her from falling back. He stabilizes her, maybe a little too hard because her chest collides with his. He apologizes under his breath, releasing her hands quickly. “Don’t people buy dinner first before yanking off their pants?” He snorts, trying to make light of the situation and crossing his arms over his chest. “But then again, you stole my dinner.” 

“Are you insinuating I should take off my pants?” She asks with a smirk. 

Corpse nearly chokes on his own inhale, eyes wide as he quickly looks away.

Oh my god is she serious? “N-no!” He says, perhaps too quickly. Too loudly. His cheeks turned dark pink as he gapes at her for a moment before furrowing his brows again. He hunches his shoulders a little, doing his best to avoid those sharp hazel eyes. 

She’s pretty. Way too pretty for him and now she has him all flustered. This girl has way too much power over the agoraphobic anxiety bundle that is Corpse. 

“Oh so you’re insinuating that I should buy you dinner since I took off your pants?” She prompts, eyes narrowing with a delighted little smirk on her face. She has to be enjoying watching him squirm in embarrassment, otherwise, why would she keep asking questions like that? Of course she does. She is like every other girl in his life.

“I’m..-just...Forget it.” He mumbles, shrinking back away from her as he turns to go back inside the safety of his apartment. 

She’s probably making fun of me. Great, as if I didn’t have enough self-esteem issues already.

Before he could get inside, a hand grabs his shirt at the small of his back. “Hey, I’m just fucking with you, dude.” She says, giving the shirt’s fabric a tug. 

He turns and looks at her with wary eyes, wondering if she was trying to goad him into falling for her taunting again. But the ice in her gaze has melted and she gives him a crooked smile. “Lemme buy you dinner to pay you back. It’s the least I can do after you helped keep my ass out of jail.” She releases his shirt after a brief moment of reluctance and then offers her hand to him for a handshake. “Oh, I should introduce myself, officially this time. I’m Cora.” 

Corpse looks at her hand and carefully takes it. She has small hands and his long fingers practically engulfed hers as he shakes it lightly. He gives her his name in return and she smiles that light filled, beaming smile he remembers from the car. 

“Nice to, um- meet you, I guess.” He finds himself staring at her, unknowingly still holding her hand in his until she looks up and grins a little wider. 

“This seems like a roundabout way to hold my hand, bro. You could have just asked,you know.” She teases, but this time it felt okay, his embarrassment having faded slightly, but he still hurries to look away and release his hold on her. 

Corpse murmurs a quick apology, but before he could stick his hand back into the ripped pocket of his jeans, she takes hold of it again, tugging him forward. “Come on, lock your door. I’ll buy you something to eat. You drive though.” She lets go of his hand after a moment and, much to his surprise, he catches himself missing the warmth that it provided him while it was there. Turning, he ducked into his apartment to grab his hoodie and keys, feeling suddenly thankful he’d cleaned his car out.

Taglist: @vixenl  @fockingwhore

[yesmooshoe]

hii! could you do #34 "please don't do this" from the angst/fluff list for ironhusbands? 💖

Whoops, this was supposed to be short but then I wrote 3000 words. WARNING - THERE’S SOME SMUT AT THE END.

Also, you can read it on ao3! Double also, feel free to send me a prompt if you want.

--

“Please don’t do this.” Rhodey said through gritted teeth as Tony inched closer and closer to him.

“Do what?” He asked nonchalantly as their shoulders touched.

Rhodey took a deep breath and took a step away from Tony while scanning the crowded Officer’s Mess, hoping that no one saw that. “Touch me.”

“I thought you liked it when I touched you.” Tony said, cocking his head and flashing a smile.

Rhodey could feel his blood pressure rise as he locked eyes with Tony.

He hated this.

He hadn’t seen Tony in 13 months, 12 days, and 41 minutes...not that he was counting. Tony had begged him on multiple occasions to take some time off and come meet him somewhere, even just for a night, but Rhodey hadn’t wanted to risk it. Tony was famous. Someone would have noticed that he was in Frankfurt, someone would have noticed that Rhodey was off-base, someone would have snapped a photo of them buying lube. It was too risky, way too risky.

But this? This was way worse.

Yes, Stark Industries was the main manufacturer of planes for the US Air Force. And yes, there was a brand new cargo plane making its’ debut tomorrow. So in theory, Tony being at Ramstein made perfect sense. Plus, everyone knew that they were friends. But no one, other than maybe Pepper, knew the rest. If anyone found out that he was gay, his entire military career would be over.

“Fine, no touching. Can we at least eat lunch together? I promise I wont fellate you in between bites of powdered mashed potatoes.” Tony teased under his breath.

Of course he wanted to touch him, wanted to hold him, wanted to kiss him. But he also just wanted to talk to him. They were always careful while communicating, knowing that Rhodey’s email and phone conversations weren’t necessarily private. They never said I love you, but they’d found other ways to say and show that over the years. Tony always sent really elaborate and thoughtful care packages whenever Rhodey was overseas, and Rhodey always sent Tony weird souvenirs and postcards whenever he could. Rhodey always closed his letters by reminding Tony to water his plants, and Tony always ended his saying that he hadn’t forgotten. Rhodey didn’t even have any plants, but that was their little way of saying I love you with no one noticing.

“I have a meeting.” Rhodey lied, worried that spending too much time together would raise suspicion. “Just...just come over tonight, ok? After 7.”

Tony looked annoyed, but nodded. It was the same expression he had every time Rhodey signed up for another 4 years, or whenever he told him that he was being transferred or deployed again. They both hated this, but they loved each other and Rhodey loved his job. And Tony never once asked him to stop, so all they could do was hope that one day they’d get rid of that stupid law.

“Fine. See you tonight, Captain.” Tony said as he walked away, heading toward the group of SI employees at the opposite end of the room.

--

Rhodey’s heart was racing again as the clock struck 7, and a million different scenarios started running through his head. What if Tony had done something stupid like buy condoms at the PX? What if someone saw him coming up here? Even worse, what if someone noticed him leaving in the morning? They were friends though, best friends. Everyone knew that they were friends and knew that they’d been roommates for several years at MIT. There was nothing wrong with him coming over and spending the night, right? He’d just tell everyone that they had a few beers and then Tony passed out on the couch. It’d be fine, right?

Suddenly, a knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He jumped right up and smoothed his pants out, not wanting to look like a complete mess, and then quickly crossed to the front door of his apartment, which he pulled open to reveal Tony. In one hand he was holding a pizza, and in the other a 12-pack of beer and a shopping bag.

Rhodey smiled at him as he stepped aside and let him in. He stuck his head out in the hallway to see if anyone was around, and once he was confident that the coast was clear he closed the door. Before he knew what was happening, Tony grabbed him, slammed him against the door, and started kissing him. Rhodey gave in immediately, running his hands up Tony’s back and tangling them in his hair.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, they just stood there for a moment with their foreheads resting against each other.

“Hi.” Tony panted out as his arms settled around Rhodey’s waist.

“Hi. Missed you.” Rhodey said before giving him another peck on the lips.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too. This has been a long one.”

“Just a few more months ‘til I’m back at Edwards, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Tony said as he pulled away and walked over to the counter where he’d dropped everything.

Rhodey came up behind and wrapped his arms around him, just so happy to be able to hold him again. “Well, we’ve got tonight, ok? I can promise you that.” He said in between pressing soft kisses to Tony’s neck.

Tony turned around and smiled at him, knowing that it would have to do for now. “And it’s going to be a good night indeed, Captain Rhodes.”

“You really like saying that, huh?”

“It’s hot.”

“Mmhmm.” Rhodey chuckled as he nuzzled against him. It’d only been a few weeks since his promotion.

“Oh Captain, my Captain, our night is just beginning, and I promise you it’ll be a wild one.”

“Not too wild, these walls are very thin.”

“Not to worry.” Tony said as he slipped out of his grip and grabbed the plastic bag. “Fear not, for I have rented several movies with lots of explosions that’ll certainly drown out all of your incomprehensible babbling while my tongue is buried deep in your ass in about 15 minutes.”

Rhodey could feel his cheeks getting hot as he looked down at the floor, always getting a bit flustered when Tony said stuff like that to him. “Did anyone see you at the video store? Does anyone know you’re here?”

Tony sighed as he played around with the VCR, which answered Rhodey’s question for him.

“Christ, Tony, who?” Rhodey asked, suddenly feeling anxious again.

“Calm down, ok? Look...Colonel Moore and Major Kirkland wanted to take me out to dinner, but I told them that I was coming over here to get you drunk and maybe beat your ass in Mario Kart a few times.”

“Moore and Kirkland? Tony, I work with them every day you can’t just go around telling everyone - “ Before Rhodey could finish his rant, Tony shut him up with another kiss.

“It’s fine. I promise you it’s fine. No one cares that I’m here, no one is suspicious, ok?” He said softly in between kisses. “I got pizza and shitty beer and even shittier action movies and as far as anyone knows we’re over here like a couple of perfectly normal straight dudes talking about tits and cheering when things explode, ok?”

Rhodey took a deep breath and nodded. That was certainly easy for Tony to say - it wasn’t his career and everything he’d worked for on the line - but he trusted him. “Well hey, I bet you’ll be cheering later when I explode in your ass, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Tony laughed and shook his head while playfully shoving Rhodey towards the bedroom. “That’s the spirit. Now go on, I want you completely naked by the time I’m done putting on this movie to appease your neighbors.”

Rhodey just smiled at him and pulled his shirt off as he rushed into his room. By the time he flopped onto his bed he was completely naked, though he hadn’t been wearing much to begin with. Still, it had to be a record.

He propped himself up on his elbows while laying on his back, and a huge smile spread across his face when Tony finally joined him. They took a moment to just look at each other, and even though the sound of rapid gun fire from whatever movie Tony had put on kept it from being super romantic, much like everything else, it’d do for now.

Tony’s hair was a bit longer than the last time he’d seen him, and it seemed like the goatee was here to stay. He hadn’t been sure about the facial hair at first, missing the baby-faced boy he’d fallen in love with back at school, but it really suited him. “Your hair’s wet, was it raining?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“No, I took a shower. I’m not an animal.” Tony answered while pulling his shirt off and climbing onto the bed and onto Rhodey. He leaned down and kissed him again, though this time it was more soft and more loving.

They spent a while just kissing and letting their hands get reacquainted with each other. Rhodey’s cock was hard now, and pressed up against the annoyingly still-clothed Tony. He wanted more, but he also didn’t want to stop whatever this was. He’d been so starved for attention like this for so long, so he did his best to just enjoy the gentle caresses and the way Tony’s tongue seemed to be exploring every single inch of his mouth, even though he desperately wanted Tony buried inside of him.

Eventually Tony sat up, and Rhodey just smiled as he noticed how red and puffy his lips were from all of the action so far.

“Have you...been with anyone? Since...since last time?” Tony asked quietly while slowly circling around Rhodey’s nipples with his thumbs. They had a sort of open thing, but neither really cashed in on it too much.

“No. Have you?”

“No.”

Rhodey smiled. “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you too. Roll over.” Tony instructed as he shifted to the edge of the bed.

“Yes sir.” Rhodey said as Tony pulled off his pants and boxers, finally releasing his cock.

“Mm, I like when you call me sir.” Tony said as he straddled Rhodey again. “God your ass is amazing. I feel like people don’t tell you that enough, but it really is perfect.”

Rhodey smiled at the compliment, but he was also focused on the gunfire and motorcycles coming from the TV in the next room. For a moment he worried that maybe it was too loud and that the neighbors would complain. That’s all he needed, having to run to the door mid-sex while trying to pull his sweatpants on. He considered stopping to turn it down, but all of the thoughts left his head as he felt Tony spread his ass cheeks apart and slowly run his tongue up his crack.

“Oh fuck.” Rhodey moaned while tightening his grip on the blankets he was clutching. Luckily his bed was against an exterior wall, so he wasn’t worried about being too loud in here. As Tony continued to explore, slowly circling his tongue around the rim and prodding at the hole, Rhodey became painfully aware of how desperate his cock was for attention. It was pinned between his stomach and the bed and he tried to move a bit, but it was impossible with how Tony was holding him down. “Tony please…” He cried out quietly.

“Please what?” Tony asked smugly as he pulled away. He slowly crawled up on top of Rhodey and started grinding his cock against Rhodey’s eager ass. “Come on, what do you want, Sourpatch?”

“I want you.”

“Want me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” Rhodey moaned again before Tony pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Good boy.” He said as he sat up. “Lube?”

“Night stand. Bottom drawer.” Rhodey replied breathlessly, still not quite believing that they were together again.

“Do you want me to use a condom?” He asked as he found all of the supplies.

“No, I trust you.”

“Okay. I trust you too. Ooh, Astroglide! How retro.” Tony almost giggled as he climbed back onto the bed.

Rhodey rolled onto his back and wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly as Tony got settled again.

“Hey hey, none of that. I don’t want you cumming before I even get inside of you.” Tony teased as he opened up the bottle and squirted some of the clear liquid in his hand. “You want it like this?”

Rhodey nodded as he let go of his cock. “Yeah. I want to see you.”

Tony just smiled before leaning down to give him a kiss. “Good.”

Rhodey took a deep breath while Tony grabbed a pillow and put it under his back for easier access, and Rhodey just let his legs fall open for him. They locked eyes as Tony’s slick hand found Rhodey’s hole, and stayed that way as Tony worked a finger in and out of him. They kissed more as Tony fingered him slowly, and the sensation of their cocks trapped together between their stomachs was more than enough to make Rhodey start dribbling pre-cum.

“Someone’s excited.” Tony whispered between kisses.

“Just fuck me, please.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Tony said with a little salute as he sat up and pulled his fingers out of Rhodey’s ass.

Rhodey watched as he grabbed the lube again and slicked himself up, and he braced himself for what was coming next. He sucked in a sharp breath as Tony lined himself up and pushed into his ass slowly, doing his best to relax and take it.

“Fuck!” Rhodey cried out as he arched his back, easily taking Tony’s cock deep inside of him.

“Shh shh.” Tony said as he bottomed out. “Don’t want the Joint Chiefs to hear you. You ok?”

“Yes Tony, this isn’t my first Rodeo. Just shut up and move.”

Tony laughed again as he guided Rhodey legs up to rest on his shoulders. Slowly, he started to move, thrusting in and out of and finding a good rhythm. Rhodey was letting out little gasps with each thrust at first, and as soon as Tony started to pick up the pace he wrapped his hand around his cock and started stroking in rhythm with the thrusts. He forced himself to open his eyes, and he smiled at the determined look on Tony’s face as he loomed over the top of him.

“God Tony, I’m so close. Faster.” He moaned again, gripping at the bad with his free hand. This was all happening a bit faster than Rhodey had hoped, but it had been a while and he was certain he’d last longer on the next round.

Tony started snapping his hips faster, losing his composure as he got closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck, I’ve missed this.” He managed to say before grabbing Rhodey’s hips and slamming him back down on his cock as they both chased release.

They fell silent for a while, but the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and a huge series of explosions from the living room.

It was Rhodey who came first, spraying his stomach with an explosion of creamy, white liquid as Tony continued to ride him harder and faster. It was becoming too much for Rhodey, overwhelmed by his own own orgasm. “Fuck, come on Tony. Give me everything.” He chanted through gritted teeth, which seemed to be just enough to push him over.

Tony came with an indistinguishable string of syllables, which he quickly muffled as he continued to thrust, filling Rhodey with everything that he had. They were both panting as Tony finished up and let his cock slip out of him, but despite how out of it Rhodey felt, Tony seemed to have a bit more in mind for this first session.

As Tony caught his breath he leaned down and ran his tongue over Rhodey’s toned stomach, lapping up the streams of cum that were splattered all over him. Rhodey just relaxed as Tony cleaned him up, tugging on his shaggy brown hair as he did. When Tony was done he crawled up and gave Rhodey a kiss, allowing him to taste some of the salty substance that remained on his lips.

“Do you want pizza?” Tony asked after a few moments of silence, which just made both of them laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.” Rhodey said as he playfully shoved Tony off of him.

“What? I’m hungry. And we gotta keep up our stamina. We’ve got 12 hours to make up for 12 months.” Tony teased as he sat up and ran his hands through his hair.

“You need a haircut.”

“Yeah well, I wanted to give you something nice and long to grab onto later when we get really dirty.” Tony said as he stood up.

Rhodey just shook his head. “Fine. But I’m taking you to a barber before you leave. Also, it’s not been 12 months.”

“Hm?”

“It’s not been 12 months. It’s been 13 months, 12 days, 7 hours, and 38 minutes.” He said as another explosion rang out in the living room.

“Oh, and I’m the ridiculous one? Come on, pizza.”

“Tony?” Rhodey called out as he started to leave. He wanted to promise him that they wouldn't go 13 months without seeing each other again. He wanted to promise that he’d be back in California soon. He wanted to promise that he wouldn’t re-up again when the time came.

But he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. He shook his head, vowing to do his best to not dwell on any of that right now. They had tonight, and that was what was important.

Tony was just staring at him, confused by the silence. “Yes?”

“Nothing.  I’m just - I’m sorry.”

Tony walked back over to the bed and held out his hand. “Don’t be, I knew what I was signing up for, ok? Come on, pizza time. And if you’re lucky I’ll let you fuck me next round.” He said as he pulled him up and led him into the kitchen.

“Tell you what. Mario Kart. Loser has to bottom, all right?” Rhodey suggested with a huge smile on his face.

Tony just smiled. “Fine, but I hope you’re ready for me to ride your ass all night, Captain.” He said as he grabbed the box of pizza and headed for the living room.

Again, none of this was ideal. But right now, in this stupid apartment with thin walls in the middle of Germany, everything was perfect.

[babysprouseisart]

A little letter for you from me at the start of the new year

Here's to 2021...

This past year has been so contradictory.

There has been a lot happening.

Deadly virus, deaths, including the very honored people, isolation, world's catastrophies, including nature ones and ideological, the BLM motion, political and economical shocks, cultural and art changes, personal traumas and break ups, and so much more.

This past year has been so hard for millions of people and hundreds of countries.

But there also have been positive, happy changes, which have made this year a bit better.

Brave medical staff, great improvements in different fields, more creativity and challenges, the cohesion of the people and the great spirit, the well-deserved awards, the progress in the space business, the launch of SpaceX, increased birth rate among the stars, and much more local and global.

And for everyone, this year was special in its own way.

For some it was more terrible and for others this year was not even bad.

For me personally, this year was the last before adult independent life, before the period of exams, graduation and stress.

This past year has been rather fine for me, although a lot happened, some new things, some new way of studying, Zoom, new lifestyle, a lot of disagreements and absurdity, I also can't even believe I'll be 18 in 2021.

But the huge part of my life are you, my followers and people who I follow, my family in some sort, this place where I have spent and spend a lot of time.

I was pleasantly surprised how many of you are already with me, and how you still tolerate me. As funny as it sounds I'm still not sure if I deserve you at all.

There are a lot more of you here and I respect and appreciate each of you.

Whoever you are, wherever you are, you can always contact me, give me your preferably honest opinion.

I'll always try to be honest with you, and even if you're a hater, no matter how much you hurt me, I don't care, I can take it.

I learned to do it after a long time, because there were many reasons for the whole year, especially in recent months. But I do not despair, because there are much more like-minded people here and they are more valuable to me.

And I'm still learning how to fight back, and probably not everything turned out great, sometimes ridiculous, but whatever.

Speaking of this place, it is impossible not to mention that for me, as a former huge and sincere fan of #Sprousehart, this year has been particularly tipping and staggering. It began with the break up of two wonderful and loved by millions of people. We were in shock and it was very sad. For some, this period, especially the period of speculation and incomprehensibility, instability, constant appearance of new facts, information, narratives, changes in behavior was particularly very difficult and painful due to the our long-term involvement and devotion to the two actors. We were all thrown from one to the other day after day. A storm of various opinions and dissensions raged in our ranks. We seemed to be divided and to this day, unfortunately, we, former close-knit fans, exist in two camps.

I very much was jealous, but in a good way actually, of those ordinary, maybe more abnegated and distracted in some way, fans of the show and of the actors, who never gave a sign of admitting a change and remained independent fans, although I am sure that this phenomenon shocked everyone, just some more than others and not everyone dared to honestly speak out, discuss, go into details and join any so-called camp.

And this is normal in both cases on the one hand, because we are all different and everyone has treated and treats this phenomenon in their own way, how many people - so many opinions. But on the other hand, it's a little lousy to look back and remember all the beautiful moments of the ex-beloved couple, remember our common joy, common experiences and admiration, and in general remember all this confusion and mess that we all went through this year.

But despite all this, this period has taught me a lot and, I hope, many people have learned or were reminded once more, that you do not need to get so involved with two strangers, it will just destroy you in one not very positive moment, I would even say at the time of the black stripe.

You can love them as individuals, honor them, but it should not go beyond and when something between them or regarding them will not work out you should not be so deadly sad, broken.

Remember, and I would very much like us all to reconsider our views in the future, if not already, and be happy, honestly.

I am infinitely grateful to everyone, and you know who you are, who was with me, who stayed with me and helped me not to despair, helped me to reconsider a lot, helped me not to lose heart and was just honest and nice to me. 

It is very important to be able to let go and abstract, although we humans are by nature very inquisitive creatures

However, time is fleeting, black stripes always change to white and everything will fall into place someday.

I love you guys, each of you, you are all amazing.

Happy New Year, buddies!   With love, forever yours, Katie.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 97: A Peck of Owls

There was a whole whirlwind of activity upon this landing, many shrieks from more than just the eight of them and so much movement that after their long solidarity it was frightening. His heart was fluttering in his chest in anticipation for a fight once more as he tried to see past his swirling vision, but then his eyes were only further obscured by some thick, milky substance and he cursed in further shock.

"Frank?" He heard Alice's voice not too far off, and she didn't sound particularly distressed, but his agitation still rose further when he continued swiping at his eyes and unwilling to cast the mess off with magic for fear of what it was.

"Here," definitely not Alice's voice spoke much closer at hand, but only after he'd softly uttered the spell and Frank finally cracked his eyes open did he recognize it as Lupin. He fought hard against the instinctive urge to cringe away, didn't entirely manage it, but did get out a sincere, "thanks."

Lupin gave him a small smile back, already several more feet away than he would have been while casting the spell, but waited patiently until Frank actually got his feet under him and was clearly fine now before leaving him to investigate the place, or more accurately, the owls. He recognized this place as Eeylops Owl Emporium. His face scrunched up in further disgust, he was glad Lupin had left now, as the expression had nothing to do with the werewolf but everything to do with the understanding of what had been on his face.

There were 225 different species of owls, and all of them seemed to be on display in some variation around this shop all in a variety of colors, not to mention the sign hanging in the back promising even more creatures could be requested, including bats for overnight deliveries, flamingos for an extra love-letter flair, and hippogriffs if you 'really wanted to deliver that message.'

There were still some up in the rafters rather than on their perches, feathers fluttering in a colorful tornado just settling on the ground from their abrupt departure at their unexpected arrival. He finally spotted Alice and Lily cooing affectionately over a rack of tiny little scoop owls, one was even albino like a miniature Hedwig. He heard Regulus's voice off in the distance and swallowed a laugh at the universes' sense of humor, landing them here while the chapter title A Peck of Owls echoed around them.

It was a quiet, diminished group that listened to Harry hauling his nearly unconscious cousin back to their house while having his questions ignored by the suddenly intriguing Mrs. Figg, and even more sporadically a new guy named Mundungus Fletcher. Then the Dursleys of course were of no better company, the ungrateful people they were accusing rather than thanking Harry for Dudley's circumstances.

Then the heat of it all really came down, Harry had in fact done underage magic, something that really hadn't occurred to any of them during the circumstances, considering he'd been in a life or death situation and it was a miracle in itself he even got himself out of it. The Ministry didn't seem to agree, as they actually tried to expel him over it? Then the barrage of other letters from a multitude of people came giving him all sorts of contradictory advice, and honestly by the end of it all they felt like collapsing from exhaustion just hearing about it, let alone poor Harry living through it.

Frank was beside himself with confusion by the end of it all, even hearing the first-hand account he didn't know how Harry was taking it all so calmly, having a conversation with those Dursleys on top of this turmoil. He watched Lily mostly through the majority of the exchange, the Ministry's steep response to this was catching him off guard, he had no idea how a Muggleborn would be reacting to all this, but instead she kept pursing her lips up and flashing her eyes in disgust every time Petunia opened her mouth. Not unusual, but it distracted him for a moment as he wondered if perhaps she'd gotten a few letters, perhaps not as disastrous as this one, but something from the Ministry herself forewarning her of these consequences.

There was audible relief all around when the final letter came and Harry was not going to be expelled until some hearing, at least giving some semblance of sanity back to the world, which was erased once more as that wasn't in fact the last letter, but Petunia was sent an incomprehensible howler. Lily had to fight the urge to go find Regulus just to make sure he wasn't making this up for some reason, but his voice stuttering in surprise was audible for all to hear. Clearly, even in the Muggle world, this future was on its last stretches of sanity.

[voidcat]

of Pamphlets & Bass Guitars

– The Impromptu Debate

Word Count: 1.2k

I���ll add my actual Author’s Notes at the end to clear things up & not spoil the chapter.

Pamphlets (ch3) | chapter 4 | chapter 5 (coming soon)

ao3 – masterlist

Your eyes trail on the each face in the room. The group of boys first, they all look so smug and sure of themselves. You want to punch those expressions off their faces. Then the teachers and the vice principal, each with a face that says “I can’t believe I’m wasting my time here.”. Its still a wonder to you why some people choose a career involving the young and education when they clearly dislike it.

Eyes going through the room, examining one by one, avoiding the not-so-kind gazed of girls who only increase in minutes. With dread, your eyes find Oikawa’s at last.

Maybe a minute of staring and you sign in defeat. “Okay, go on. Tell me how you got that scar, you brave war hero.”

“So you see, it was around lunch break when I walked into those assholes with a scheme as low as themselves. Usually when a girl alone walked by, one of them drops something or pretends to walk into them, make something that will cause the girl to bend or pick something up from the ground. And the rest just enjoy- what did they call it again?... ‘The show’.” He says the last part with finger quotes.

“And what? You watched the pull this crap all break?”

“No, no! I came at them the moment I first saw it. I learnt the full story from one of them, during a poorly attempted comeback. And as you can see-“ hand showing his bruise again “-it ended in a fight.”

You just give him an unconvinced look. Just how stupid does he think you are, thinking you’d fall for such a badly written story…

“Look, believe me or not, it’s what happened. Hell! Ask Iwa-Chan, anyone knows he hates lying, he saw it happen too.”

“Oikawa, he is your best friend.”

“A best friend who never shows that to me obviously. He wouldn’t lie even if his life was on the line.” He has a point, you can’t help but think. Iwaizumi was known for always following the rules, despite being friends with that seaweed-for-brains.

“Whatever, I’ll mention this if I can find an opening for it. We need proof or a witness though and I don’t see Iwaizumi-san anywhere.”

“I’ll get him if needed, don’t ya worry your pretty head about it!- Ouch!” Maybe Not your strongest hit but a hit on the arm is enough to shut him up. From the way he keeps [ovalamak] his arm, it’s clear your message is received.

After a not so long wait, you begin speaking without addressing anyone in the room. If they want an unofficial debate, that’s what you will give them. No respect to those who don’t respect or care for others.

“I can begin my speech with years long of patriarchy and how it shaped and affected society. But it’d be too long and we’d all be dead before it could ever be finished. I can mention the long going cases of abuse, harassment, rape and murder. How it’s always the victim blamed when it’s convenient yet how everyone goes silent when the said victim is found in a “modest” set of clothing or make up. But this, is however, is a very grim topic and can affect some of us here badly. Honestly, it is quite unbelievable how we have to defend why we want more open clothing options. The other side are only here because they like to watch girls with long legs walk, they like to peep at our skirts, bother and harass us then go and say how it is not their fault since the skirts are too short. If I really have to present a recent harassment case like this, I have Oikawa Tooru as a witness and some girls who were direct targets. I’ve noticed how some of our teachers like to think we exaggerate the things we have to endure almost on a daily basis. Give the option of skirts and pants for everyone, equally. So the next time it happens, because it will happen, as sad as it sounds, we will have proof that we were never exaggerating in the first place.” By the time you’re done talking, you notice you’re out of breath.

Watching the teachers whisper among themselves and ‘the opposite side’ texting on their phones as if they’re here for nothing, you can sense Oikawa vibrating with energy and enthusiasm. “Good job cap.” He whispers your way. You just nod in response and turn to look at the girls here. Some of them have an incomprehensible expression on their faces. You can guess the why of it.

Half an hour of whispering and arguing, you get an answer as close to a yes. Everyone starts leaving one by one as you wait for the crowd to dispense. For some reason, so does Oikawa.

As you two walk outside, he crosses his arms behind his head, giving you a side glance. “So what do you say… Would you like to come watch me practice?” And as expected, he finishes with a wink.

“I’d rather get shipped to Antarctica.” With that, you walk away without sparring a glance.

“Hello Iwaizumi-san.” He looks surprised to see you. Makes sense, you suppose. You don’t recall a time you came to Seiji’s classroom to talk to someone that wasn’t him.

“Oh, hello. Did you need something?”

“In a matter of fact, yes. Yesterday when you were talking to Oikawa… Why did you act like that and sighed after seeing me?” He avoids your gaze at the question then sighs as if a long and tiring day at work has just come to an end.

“Nothing serious, really. Shittykawa here has developed a new, what I’m hoping to be another, short-lived obsession. This time on that anonymous writer.” He looks at you once before continuing. “Except, it has gotten worse in the past week. At first it was finding out the person behind it. Crazy theories and all. And now, for some reason, he is convinced that person is you. Naturally, when I saw him yesterday, I thought it was another attempt of his ‘undercover’ operations.”

You don’t breath out a single word during the entire time. You can feel your palms starting to sweat. Just how exactly did he get so close to it? Was that what yesterday was all about? How long have his undercover research or whatever been going? How much does he know? With a rushed ‘thank you’ to Iwaizumi and you walk out of the classroom.

Is that worry you’re feeling? Fear?

Why would you? What could he have against you to use?

You consider going to Seiji, discuss it with him, have a plan or a set of actions to follow. As you start walking, you’re stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

“There she is! The man of the hour! How are you today you feral beast? Oikawa told us how you lashed out at ‘em yesterday, givin’ a taste of your poison…”

You don’t respond. You don’t even hear Makki talk.

Eyes glued to a spot ahead of you, almost hidden by the shadows. And there stands Oikawa Tooru, staring at you with a look you can only call ‘hostile’.

 A/N: Hello! I think the “debate” or whatever you want to call it in this chapter may sound unconvincing to some people so I wanted to clear some things up.

I hope this doesn’t sound braggy but I was attending a high school that was in the top 5 in the country for years and most of our interactions with the administration went like this. Bureaucracy almost never worked, you could file in a report or a letter of complaint about an issue but it’d usually go unnoticed. (We legit protested the principal of that year one morning, it made the news and pissed of the bigots in the country ahahah.)

Also there was a harassment case one year, this happened among underclassmen (9th graders, I was a senior) and we didn’t hear of it until it was too late to do something. What happened was worse than what I wrote here but yea there was a fight involved too lol. So yeah,, my point is things like that happen. The teachers usually don’t give a shit about the students and some students look after one another to cover up their messes. I wanted the reader’s opening speech to be something better but with the recent news in the country, I feel emotionally and mentally exhausted, sorry. 

I hope this wasn’t so long and thank you if you read til the end. Feel free to send in asks, worries, talk about your day in the ask box etc etc. I’m always open to ranting & talking.

[kbstories]

Etymology

et·y·mol·o·gy (n.) The study of a word's origin.

For Sanji, coming home is easier said than done.

(Or: Let’s talk about the Vinsmoke fiasco, shall we?)

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Childhood Trauma, Miscommunication (!!!), Found Family, Eventual Happy Ending

Set after Whole Cake and before Wano (in the Stampede-esque way that the gang’s all here but canon still happened). Content warning for the aftermath of (past) trauma and PTSD-like symptoms. Read Chapter 2 here.

***

“Monkey D. Luffy!”

With a resounding bang, the door to the galley is kicked open by black dress shoes. Sanji stomps out on Sunny’s lawn to find it utterly deserted: the crew is around, eight distinct presences buzzing at the periphery of his Haki, just out of sight. Above, their flag flutters softly in the wind and–

There! A tuft of black hair peeks from the window of the crow’s nest, two wide eyes glancing down and right at him before vanishing altogether. The monotonous grunting of their resident sword-wielding idiot continues unfazed, “542… 543…”, and Sanji will deal with him later.

“Oh, Captain?”

Sanji’s voice is inviting, sticky-sweet like the candies he makes for Chopper. Luffy reappears like the gullible fool he is, eyes alight with curiosity. “Sanji?”

One swift kick to the main mast – Bro, not cool! echoes from Franky’s workshop below deck – and Luffy’s grip slips. Sanji lights a cigarette and draws just as much satisfaction from the first smoke-filled breath as he does from the sight of Luffy crashing face-first into the grass. A moment later, the remnants of what used to be a Luffy-proof padlock joins its murderer on the floor, teeth marks and warped shackle and all.

“Explain.”

The order is little more than a venomous hiss and Luffy sweats bullets, mouth opening around a long uhhh with nothing to follow it. “It wasn’t me?”

Nothing worthwhile, at least.

Sanji inhales deep for the sake of his nerves, snatches the cig between index and middle finger to point it accusingly at his captain and he lets loose: “I told you lunch is in an hour”, and “It’s the third time this week”, and “An hour, you shitty–” and that’s as far as Sanji gets before his brain catches up to his words and his heart lurches against his ribs–

And why is it that Luffy’s expression goes all hopeful up until that point?

Sanji falls silent and it’s a graceless, clumsy thing, the pause afterwards. His gaze searches for the mangled lock on the ground and he sighs.

“What do you want, Luffy? I can make you another bento if you’re hungry, just… Stop breaking the locks.”

There’s only two of those left, after all, and even if they weren't at high sea and the next island was just over the horizon, there’s no way Sanji will tarnish Nami’s meticulously kept budget with that. Not when he already owes her something he doesn’t know how to repay.

“Okay, Sanji”, Luffy says, hesitates, tells him: “Your bentos are the best!” Sounding so serious, like it’s a matter of life or death for Sanji to understand what Luffy’s saying.

It’s weird is what it is. Just another thing that changed while Sanji wasn’t looking, and it chafes against the scar tissue starting to take shape inside him. What would he give to turn back time and tell Capone Bege to take that invitation and go fuck himself with it instead of–

It’s too late now. For that, and many other things.

Sanji looks anywhere but at Luffy – as if that’s ever helped anybody escape that gaze, that uncanny perceptiveness that strikes like a thief cloaked in shadows – and he scratches at his wrist. Mumbles, “Whatever”, and turns tail like the coward he is, slinking back to the only place things make sense anymore.

Luffy’s somber eyes follow him every step of the way there.

*

Despite everything, Sanji expects Luffy to tell on him.

The Sunny’s swaying pace is familiar from the moment he stepped foot on deck, enough so that Sanji let himself be rocked into tentative relaxation as Big Mom’s fleet turned into insignificant specks in the distance, then disappeared entirely. Luffy had yelled for food – voice raspy from exhaustion and whatever else he’d put himself through to get there in time, and Sanji swore himself he’d think about it later, later – and what kind of chef would Sanji be if he didn’t deliver?

His kitchen had been a right mess, spotted with drops of purple-looking somethings and the traces of a fire made hazy by a thin layer of dust. It had taken everything Sanji had left in him not to burst into tears right then and there.

Home. I’m home.

And so he cooked, and he hugged Chopper tight while the reindeer wailed incomprehensible words into his chest, and he accepted the tender pressure of hands on his back and arms swung around his shoulders and each and every soft-eyed smile gifted to him. Welcome back, some said it outright and some didn’t; Zoro’s gaze had been steady when Sanji had finally met it over the heads of the crew, warm even, and the hairline fractures in Sanji’s soul ached as they started to heal.

Even injured as he was, Luffy’s laugh was loud over it all. Love and light and everything Sanji will ever believe in, all poured into a grin only a rubber body could produce.

For a while, Sanji was fine. Not… over it, not okay by any meaning of the word but getting there, in his own way: Up by the crack of dawn and crawling back into his bunk around midnight, and the scratchiness of his covers and the comforting nothing-scent of his own pillow was enough then. Like the weeks he spent away, not-here, were a part of history so distant and unreachable only Robin would know how to recover it.

Then the new bounties dropped in his lap, quite literally, and one glance at his own shattered the rose-tinted world Sanji had just convinced himself was reality.

It hangs next to the others now, tacked between Strawhat Luffy and _God Usopp _for the first time since they all had bounties to display at all, and Sanji would be touched by being placed center stage if the letters on that poster didn’t haunt every moment he’s spent in the men’s quarters since. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Luffy to take it down, not after his captain had seen his skyrocketing bounty and practically shook out of his skin with excitement.

“A thousand people, I told you guys! About time they realize it, too. Right, Sanji?”

After the month he’s had, Sanji wouldn’t have be above giving up the All Blue itself just to hear his captain sing him praises like that but–

The name Vinsmoke was right _there, _written in ink for all the world to see, and Luffy was looking between it and him like Sanji hadn’t kneeled at his feet a mere week ago, blind with tears and begging to be allowed back home. To return to the place at his side that he had been granted in a different ocean, a different life, and that he’d thrown away.

A decision he made with little to no alternatives yet Sanji regrets it all. He regrets the bandages that persist around Luffy’s waist, spotted with pink from a wound still healing, and the worried looks on his back that wrap themselves like blocks of concrete around his ankles. Dragging him down and under, and it doesn’t matter how powerful his legs are Sanji can’t outrun this. Not this time.

Not the first time, either, but the choice there had been between a cage and a future, and even as a child Sanji knew hope was worth living for, somehow, somewhere.

He let Luffy have the poster, then, stared at the number instead of the name and got a good rise out of the moss-headed swordsman that kept his mind off it all for most of the afternoon. By the time he went to bed that night, Sanji was exhausted enough that getting to his hammock was all he could focus on.

His dreams are not as kind as his body, however.

Sanji wakes with the taste of tears on his tongue and a cacophony of childish giggling in his ears, and for the first time in years he wonders, for all of a split-second, why his head isn’t weighed down by iron.

*

The vegetables are neatly diced and the water near-boiling when–

“Whaaat?!”

–Monkey D. Luffy’s voice echoes across the ship loud enough Sanji starts and almost, almost cuts his finger instead of the entrecôte he’s slicing off a cow’s ribcage in methodical motions. A curse is quick to come to the cook’s lips, cigarette glowing with the sigh he breathes before he washes the blood off his hands, turns off the stove and fridges the meat in the span of a few seconds.

Sanji is not the only one to follow the sound of the primal scream to the upper deck. There, they find Luffy staring open-mouthed between Nami and Robin, all crestfallen like they told him all stag beetles in the world have spontaneously gone extinct. Bleary-eyed from where he was obviously taking a nap, Zoro grumbles, “What the hell, are you serious?”, and it doesn’t sound like he’s protesting the noise but what was said to cause it in the first place.

“Is something the matter?”, inquires Brook with mild-mannered concern in his voice; Franky flicks his sunglasses up to better survey the situation at hand and Chopper is already yelling, “A doctor! We need a–” before Usopp grabs the panicking reindeer and shushes him gently.

Yet it’s Sanji they stare at, four sets of eyes wide with trepidation and Sanji’s heart drops to the soles of his shoes because yeah, it took longer than expected. It’s still happening, though, and in a forgotten corner of his thoughts Sanji wonders which of his nightmares is coming true this time around.

Fear is quick to rise to his throat, a pressure that threatens to cut his very breath short. Sanji swallows it down and asks, “What?”, voice hard and defensive even to his own ears.

And just like that, the bubble bursts and Robin smiles, quiet and sad, and Nami looks away and Luffy waves his hands – “Uh, nothing! Don’t worry about it!” – and Zoro’s expression shutters so fast Sanji can’t gleam anything at all from him.

Sanji opens his mouth to protest, to tell his captain exactly where he can shove that shitty lie of his–

Face after face his gaze touches and he realizes, with an instinct almost as old as himself, that they won’t tell. The others, yes, the meaningful look of later between Nami and Usopp is proof of that – not Sanji, though, she won’t tell him because Nami hasn’t told him much of anything since he came back, and Sanji knows he deserves it. He deserves it all and still it hurts, his battered heart clenching just because it can, because it will always care about this handful of people he calls family in the solitude of his mind no matter if they want him around or not.

There’s alarm in Luffy’s eyes then, a quick burst of “Sanji, wait–” and Sanji might understand why he’s not allowed but he doesn’t have to stick around and beg for a confirmation. He has some pride left, after all.

“Dinner’s in an hour”, he spits around his cigarette and turns away. His back is straight and his pace measured as he forces himself to descend the stairs one at a time and–

“I said wait. Dinner’s on us today, okay?”

“Luffy”, warns Zoro quietly and Sanji neither wants nor needs his pity, either.

Luffy ignores him too, says, “I’m gonna be careful this time, I promise”, voice upbeat and gentle and everything Sanji doesn’t want to hear. Usually Luffy’s promises are the stones that pave the way Sanji walks on but this, it twists in the hollow of his chest like a key turning in a lock.

Sanji’s grip on the reiling is hard enough to make the wood creak. He lowers his head and says, “Aye, Captain”, and only later will he notice he forgot to put any sort of fight into those two words.

>>Chapter 2.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Imperfect Tense - Part Three

Title: Imperfect Tense

One Shot: 3/3

Character: Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Genre: Angst

Rating: M

Summary: Secrets are powerful things. They shape who we are and how we interact with others and with the world. Tom assumed his secret was safe and his life would remain as it ever was. He was wrong.

Authors Notes/Warnings: I thought this story was over when I had posted part two. It was an abrupt ending, yes, but it fit.

And then Molly decided there was more that needed to be said and here we are. This story is now complete….The journey Tom and Molly go on, however, most likely is not. There is too much more to explore for me to say I won’t ever come back to these two. But this particular part of their story has come to a close. I hope you all enjoy.  

Thank you again to @nonsensicalobsessions, @redfoxwritesstuff and @ciaodarknessmyheart for being sounding boards for this last part of the story. Your help has been so so valuable and I doubt this story would be as good as I feel it is without your help. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“What the fucking hell were you thinking?!” Luke’s voice rose three octaves as he yelled at the pale, drawn man sitting before him. There was a fire in Luke’s eyes that Tom hadn’t seen and, gods above, he knew he deserved it. Every last bit of it.

It had been nearly three days since he’d come home and watched the life he’d left behind shatter beyond repair before him. Nearly three days since he’d seen the broken, angry, disbelieving pain swim in Molly’s eyes. Three days since she’d left and he’d learned he’d been a father. Twice now, if that stupid fucking letter was to be believed. God, it was a mess. A complete and utter travesty and there was nothing he could think of to do; no way he could fathom to fix the utter mess he had made of everything.

Luke had found him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, almost an hour before. Tom had barely moved since Molly had stormed out; forcing himself to use the bathroom when need became too great, but hardly sleeping (when he had, he woke in a panic searching for Molly only to remember she was gone) and barely eating. He’d known time had passed, but honestly hadn’t been at all aware of just how much. His phone had rung incessantly for what felt like hours and after the dozenth time he’d looked and found Luke’s number instead of Molly’s, he’d thrown the infernal thing across the room, not caring if it broke. And frankly he had enjoyed the thud it made as the bloody thing collided with the wall.

But Luke was not one to be ignored and had Tom been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have been surprised when Luke had finally shown up to say whatever he’d had to say in person. He’d come storming in the house, cursing and yelling for Tom to “show his goddamned idiotic face and show it now.” Tom could remember hearing the thunder of Luke’s feet on the stairs and then the intake of breath as he came down the hall and stopped in the doorway.

Tom raised his head, blinking as Luke’s reddened face came into clear focus. Luke paused for barely a moment before charging in the room, brandishing a manila folder in his right hand. He paused and flipped the damned thing open, throwing their contents at Tom, who watched absently as they fell to the floor at his feet. A letter, he noted, much like the one Molly had been holding when he’d walked in the door and lost everything. And several print outs of what looked to be online articles. He blinked down at them and then up at Luke.

“Do you have any idea the kind of madness I’ve been dealing with for the past 72 hours?! You go off the fucking radar, don’t answer your goddamned phone, and this insanity is spreading like wildfire. Are you aware that she went to the press? That’s she’s told everyone?!”

Once again Tom blinked in confusion.

Molly? Molly had gone to the press and told them what he’d done? The thought froze his heart. He couldn’t believe she would do something like that. He’d known he’d hurt her…That he’d broken what they had, but for her to run off and tell the world? That wasn’t his Molly. That wasn’t the woman he’d known, he’d loved. Who’d loved him. “Molly…She couldn’t…She wouldn’t…” His voice cracked as he spoke the words, both from disuse and disbelief.

It was Luke’s turn to blink in bewilderment.

“Molly? Why would Molly…?” He shook his head. “No, she hasn’t answered any of my calls either….I’m talking about Heather James. You know, the woman you fucked in a club bathroom in LA two years back? She’s gone to the fucking press with not only your affair, which paints you in an absolutely terrific light seeing as your relationship with Molly was public knowledge at the fucking time, but the fact that you have a son by her! Jesus Christ, Tom, this is a fucking shit show.” He paused running a hand through his short, brown hair. “I’m barely managing to keep up with all of it. And with your engagement announcement two months back…This is bad. Very, very, VERY bad.”

Tom found himself nodding but not truly comprehending the words Luke spoke. It all seemed so surreal, like a horrid nightmare, and all he wanted was to wake from it and find that none of it had actually happened. To find Molly beside him, holding him and telling him she loved him. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.

“…Are you even fucking listening to me, Tom?”

He slowly raised his head and met Luke’s gaze. Tom watched the exasperation and annoyance play across his publicist’s face as it became abundantly clear he hadn’t truly been listening. “What?” he managed to choke out.

Luke bit back a groan. “I was saying you and Molly need to release a joint statement on the matter. You need to say something to counteract this shit storm that is raining down on you. And you both need to do it now. Ignoring it isn’t going to work, not this time.”

Tom shook his head, his eyes burning once more with tears. “She’s gone.” It was the first time he’d spoken the words aloud and they sounded strange to his ears. Like they couldn’t be the truth. “She left.”

“When you say left…” Luke let the words trail off but Tom could hear the steel in them. It was clear he had a very good idea just what Tom had meant. And it was just as clear that he intended for Tom to say it aloud.

Tom cleared his throat, unsure just how to put this whole mess into words. “She…She had the letter when I got home,” he paused, working to clear his throat as the words threatened to choke him. “ She…She’d read it and asked me to tell her it wasn’t true…And I…I didn’t know what to do…I didn’t mean to…”

Luke blinked. “But she knew about the affair. You told her…” He trailed off, staring at Tom in enraged disbelief as understanding dawned. “You fucking didn’t tell her about it did you?” Fire burned in Luke’s eyes and he threw his hands up in frustrated incredulity. “You stupid, selfish, moronic fucking coward! You didn’t bloody ever tell her and she was blindsided by…Oh my fucking GOD Thomas, I am going to murder you!”

“I didn’t think…” Tom pleaded.

“No, you didn’t fucking think at all did you?” Luke ran a trembling hand through his hair, shaking his head in frustrating disbelief. “She had no idea about any of this…Dammit all Thomas, I thought you had fucking told her. I begged you to tell her. Why the fucking hell didn’t you?” Luke’s dark eyes locked on his own and the guilt and regret burned inside him.

“Because I didn’t want to lose her,” Tom snapped, glaring up at Luke. It didn’t matter that everything Luke said made sense. He should have told her straight off. He should have been honest. But he hadn’t and it had cost him everything. “I fucked up, Luke. Is that what you want to bloody hear?! I. Fucked. Up. I was a coward. A fucking spineless coward and now she’s gone! She’s having my baby and she left me because I fucked it all up!”

Luke’s mouth, which had been open ready to fire a snarky retort, slammed shut. He blinked at Tom for several minutes in apparent incomprehension before gathering himself enough to choke out, “Molly’s pregnant…”

Tom swallowed thickly and nodded.

Luke threw his hands in the air. “Fucking hell, Tom.” He paced feverishly around the room, muttering to himself and occasionally shooting daggers in Tom’s direction.

The guilt that had been simmering merrily away for the last several days boiled over and Tom fought to control his breathing. This was bad. This was very, very bad and he felt as though everything had turned violently on its head.

“…she’ll talk to me.”

“All my fault,” Tom muttered over and over again to himself. Because it was all his fault. Every last miniscule bit of it. He’d made one stupid, cowardly choice after another and suddenly here he was having to answer for each and every one with no idea how the hell he was going to do so.

“It bloody is and don’t you dare expect me to sugar coat it for you,” Luke snapped. “You should have told her from the word go. You had so many fucking chances to say something and you fucking didn’t. If you had this would have been bad but we could have fucking managed it…Now, fuck, I have no idea which way this will go. And when the goddamned media finds out not only that Molly’s pregnant but she’s left you…”

“That’s not the point!” Tom hissed, pushing himself to his feet. He fought off a giddy wave of dizziness and nausea at the sudden movement. “I don’t give a flying fuck what those bastards print about me. You think I honestly care?”

“Honestly, Tom? I don’t know. The way you’ve been…It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The words stung far more than he’d expected them to, but it could not fault the truth in them. This person he’d become; this lying, secretive, dishonest man wearing his face wasn’t one he’d recognized. And that terrified him. “What am I going to do?” He hadn’t directed the question at Luke, but his friend answered him all the same.

“I’m going to head back to the office and try to contact Heather James’ solicitor and see if we can try to sort this mess.” He paused and let his eyes roll over the broken man who’d fallen back to sit on the edge of the bed once more. “You are going to march yourself into the shower, clean yourself up, and eat. After that we’ll have to play it by ear.”

                                                            —

Tom had showered, dressed in the first pieces of clothing his fingers touched, and settled at the wooden table in his kitchen, a plate of toast before him, when he heard his front door open and close followed by Luke’s footsteps in the hallway. “Back here,” he called out, half-heartedly.

He let his eyes raise to the doorway as Luke wandered in the kitchen, a sober expression painted on his face.

“I’ve been in contact with Ms. James’ solicitor and as their letter stated they are requesting a paternity test which we are not contesting. They wanted to discuss financial support for the child but until it’s proven that he is, indeed, yours that subject matter is off the table. As are any visitation and living arrangements. I’ve also requested that neither Ms. James nor any member of her team or her family speak with the press regarding this matter…Though I fear that ship as long since sailed.” He paused taking a deep breath before clasping his hands together before him. “Still better to try to curtail this now then try to fight whatever else gets spread across the papers.”

Silently, Tom nodded not quite taking it all in. He might have a son. A son. A little boy he’d never met. The idea was overwhelming. A father…He’d always wanted to be a father. Had always hoped that if the day came, he would have been able to be involved from the word go. To watch his child grow within the belly of its mother. Had hoped to be in a steady, committed relationship. Had always planned on it happening with Molly.

But he’d been a stupid, selfish idiot and ruined any chance he’d had. And now because of it he could so easily lose the chance to be there for Molly and the child she was carrying. Fresh tears stung at his eyes and he pushed the toast away, his appetite all but gone.

“…can get you into have the bloodwork drawn tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take more than two to three days for the results and once we’ve got them we can figure out what comes next.”

Tom cleared his throat and raised his eyes towards Luke once more. “If…If he’s mine, I want to be there for him. I need to be there…This mess isn’t his fault and I won’t have him suffering for it, regardless of how all of this came about.”

A brief flash of pity mixed with a resigned understanding flashed in Luke’s eyes and he nodded. “I know, Tom. I know. If he’s yours I’ll help make sure you are as involved as you want to be.” He paused and cleared his throat, eyes darkening slightly. “I spoke with Molly…”

Tom’s head snapped up at this. “Is she alright? Please tell me she’s okay…I can’t…”

Luke threw his hands up, trying to halt Tom’s explosion of words. “She is about as alright as she can be, given the circumstances…She is understandably upset and angry…”

“Did she….Will she let me talk to her…Let me try to explain.” The naked hope in his eyes tore at Luke but he shook his head.

“I don’t think that is such a good idea. I think you’ve done enough damage for now. Just…Just let her be. There will be time enough to sort out the details of how you will both handle this.”

“But I can’t just…” Even if it was hopeless he couldn’t just let it be. He had to try, he had to do something.

“Yes you bloody fucking can.” Luke snapped, hitting his fist against the table with enough force to rattle the forgotten plate of toast. “Do you not get it? Molly has every right in the world to wash her hands of you. To deny you the right to see the baby she’s carrying. Every. Bloody. Right. Fuck, she would be well within her rights to drag you through the courts and destroy you if you push her to it.”

Tom blinked in confusion, his heart thudding in his chest.

“This isn’t something you can smile and charm your way out of, Tom. You. Fucked. Up.” He empathized each word with the slam of his first to the table. “This isn’t going to simply blow over. Not only did you sleep with someone else, you lied to her about it. And you kept right on lying. You fucked up every bloody time you had the chance to come clean with Molly and you chose not to. This isn’t one mistake, Tom. This isn’t one slip-up. This is a series of stupid, fucking decisions and they are all on you. Every. Single. One. And you need to own that and then figure out how to live with it.”

Luke took a deep breath and settled himself onto the chair opposite from Tom. Neither spoke for several minutes.

“How?” Tom’s voice was small, almost broken.

Luke took a deep breath, resting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.” He turned towards the doorway, pausing momentarily to pull something from his pocket. “Almost forgot.” He placed it onto the table before Tom who looked at it in confusion. “Your mobile was in pieces…Again. And I have to be able to get hold of you. Try not to destroy this one.”

With a sigh Luke turned once more and headed down the hall and towards the front door. A moment later Tom heard it click shut and once more he was alone.

                                                         —

The car Luke had arranged arrived mid-morning the following day. Tom tried not to think about the parallel between this morning and one almost two years ago as he silently climbed into the backseat. He’d slept fitfully the previous night, tossing and turning for several hours before giving up the ghost entirely. It didn’t matter, he’d lost the right to sleep peacefully, and he’d known that.

He rested his head against the cool glass of the window as the city blurred past, paying it little mind. Luke had called shortly before the car had arrived to make sure he was up and ready. Tom wanted to resent Luke for doing so, for babying him, but given the mess he’d been (and honestly still was) he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when it was something Luke would have done before everything had fallen to pieces.

The car slowed and then finally came to a stop forty minutes later. He opened the car door and blinked up at the tall, dull, brick building. It was overcast, overhead rain clouds threatened. Fitting.

Climbing out, Tom made his way into the lobby of the building. It was well lit with several uncomfortable chrome and mutely coloured chairs lined near the wall of glass windows. Standing to the side of the main doors was Luke, absently staring at his mobile. He looked up at the sound of the doors and offered Tom a smile (which was honestly more of a grimace). In silence, they headed towards the lifts and then up towards the laboratory. Giving his blood and saliva samples was a simple matter; Tom and Luke were out of the building and back into the waiting car fifteen minutes later.

Neither man spoke as the car pulled off and merged back into the London late morning traffic. Luke turned his attention back to his mobile. He tapped away busily at the screen. Several minutes later Luke looked up, pocketing his mobile.  “I’ve let the solicitors know the samples were obtained and the results pending.”

Tom nodded. “Alright.”

What else could he possibly say? There weren’t words to describe the emotions coursing through him and he found himself both wishing that the little boy wasn’t his (how could he be a father to a child he didn’t know?) and that he was (if he was then maybe some good would come of all the mess he’d made). He didn’t dare voice either thought. How could he?

When the car stopped again it was in front of the offices for Prosper. Luke opened the door, looking back at the broken man staring sightlessly out of the opposite window. “Tom?”

Blinking Tom turned his attention from his thoughts and towards Luke. “Hm?”

“Call your mother. She’s called the office and my mobile several times trying to get hold of you. She’s worried sick.”

He nodded. The idea of talking to his mother, of hearing the disappointment and disapproval in her voice, terrified him. She loved Molly. Had been so incredibly happy when Tom told her of the engagement.

“That woman loves you, my boy, with all of her heart. You are so very lucky to have found her.” His mother’s words echoed in his mind, adding to the weight of the guilt and self-disgust he carried. She would kill him for this and he honestly couldn’t blame her. He’d had something amazing, something so fucking special, and he’d thrown it away. God, how could he have been such a fool?

What was worse was that by now his mother would have seen the articles, known what he’d done. And he knew he deserved every disappointed and disgusted word she would say to him. He was her son, yes, but she adored Molly and he’d broken her heart. But Luke had been right, avoiding his mother wouldn’t change what had happened and he knew, despite whatever anger and disappointment she felt towards him, she was worried. And despite the mess he’d made of everything, he couldn’t stand worrying his mother.

Tom barely noticed the car pulling to a stop and the driver had to call his name twice before he realized he was home. With a murmured thanks, Tom climbed out of the car and slowly up the steps towards his front door. The house felt so cold, so empty without Molly’s light and Tom fought back a sob as he pushed the door closed behind him and stood in the dim entry way.

Swallowing thickly, he stumbled his way into the lounge and dropped himself haphazardly onto the sofa. He sat, head cradled in his hands for what felt like hours before he took another deep breath and fumbled his new mobile from his pocket.

Clumsily, he dialed the familiar number, holding the phone to his ear as it rang once, twice before the line clicked. “Oh Thomas,” his mother’s worn voice answered. “My boy, what have you done?”

“Mum,” he breathed, the tears he’d fought finally breaking free. “Oh God, mum. I really messed up.”

                                                           —

Luke called early three days later letting him know the clinic had sent over the test results and that he was needed at Prosper as soon as he was able to go over them. Tom dressed with trepidation, his mind racing over just what fate awaited him. He’d been grateful Luke had sent a car, he didn’t think he could face driving or the chaos that public transport had become.

Since the tabloids had broken with the story of the affair and his illegitimate child, Tom found himself once more under a deluge of press attention. He’d been followed and hounded on his morning run (which he’d only restarted as a means to take his mind off of what was happening). Anytime he was spotted in public there was someone with a camera or yelling for his attention and comment on the story. He’d kept his head down as much as possible, knowing that if he snapped at them the way he longed to he would be making matters so much worse than they already were. And there was the fact that Luke would cheerfully beat him to death if he did anything to rock the boat on this.

The car was outside his gate at half past the hour and Tom quickly made his way out of the house and into its cool interior, mumbling a quiet hello to his driver. Traffic was lighter than he’d expected and they pulled to a stop in front of Prosper’s building in what felt like moments. Tom fought to contain the panic roiling inside of him as he made his way into the building and towards the lifts that would lead him to Luke’s office.

The low murmur of an office at work greeted him as the lift doors pinged open. Tom gave Nancy at reception a small smile as he headed down the hall towards Luke’s door. She’d been with Luke since he started the firm and they’d always gotten on well. She was just as no nonsense as Luke and, having worked in the industry for years, was an invaluable asset to the firm. Nancy nodded back and waved him on.

Luke’s door was ajar and Tom could hear his voice pouring out into the hallway. He paused at the door and knocked on its frame. Luke looked up, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone in his hand and nodded Tom inside.

“Alright, I’ll get back to you about the interview…Alright. Take care.” Luke placed the phone back onto its cradle and turned his full attention on Tom who still stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Seriously mate, come in. I’m not going to bite.”

His jest pulled the tiniest twinge of a smile from Tom and he made his way inside, settling on the black leather chair across from Luke’s desk. They sat in silence for several moments before Tom spoke. “You called about the results?” He fought to keep his voice steady and even, though the extent of his nerves were clear in the way his foot bounced against the carpeted floor.

Luke nodded once. “They sent them over this morning.” He reached across the desk to hand Tom a sealed white envelope. Tom couldn’t hide the visible shake in his hand as he took the envelope. It took him several moments to still them enough to slip his finger beneath the seal and break it. With a deep breath and a mounting sense of foreboding, Tom pulled the sheets of paper from the envelope, unfolding them with care, before allowing his eyes to read over the stark black text.

His blood pounded in his ears and he had to read the words several times before the meaning became clear.

Regarding the child Francis Henry James…No paternal match…

No paternal match.

The boy wasn’t his.

The sharp sense of relief he felt at those words was dulled by a flash of disappointment that Tom couldn’t reconcile. This was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Things would be easier this way. But still, for a brief moment, Tom found himself grieving the loss of a child that might have been his. Of a life that wouldn’t ever be.

Tom swallowed against the lump in his throat. In all the panic and worry of the last several days, he hadn’t truly stopped and thought about what all of this would mean if the child hadn’t been his. Stupidly, he’d been laboring under the belief that the boy was his son and no matter what had happened between himself and the boy’s mother, that little boy, Francis…Frank, was his and was an innocent in all of this. And Tom would do everything in his power to do right by him. He’d been, unconsciously, making plans about what room he’d need to change into a child’s bedroom for when the boy would stay with him. Along with the room that would serve as a nursery for his baby with Molly…But that was all in vain now.

“Do I need to be drafting a press release asking for privacy as you and your son get to know one another?” Luke’s voice broke through the tangle of confusion in Tom’s mind causing him to stare up blankly. His publicist sat perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest with a carefully constructed neutral, yet expectant, expression painted across his face.

It was several minutes before Tom found his voice. “No,” he choked out, coughing to clear his throat. “You don’t need…He’s not…I’m not his father.” He blinked back tears, wiping at his face in frustrated helplessness.

Without saying a word, Luke was at his side with a box of tissue. Tom reached out and took one, blowing his nose and fighting valiantly to get himself back under control. But try as he might, Tom couldn’t stop the way his shoulders shook nor the tears that were trailing down his face. He was grateful Luke wasn’t forcing him to talk because he honestly didn’t think he could find the words to explain what the fuck was happening in his head.

He couldn’t say just how long he sat in Luke’s office, mourning the loss of the only good thing that could come from this mess he’d made. All he knew for certain was his head ached and his eyes felt raw as he was ushered into the back of the car Luke called for him. He would have winced at the brightness of the afternoon sunlight on his face had he not been wearing a pair of dark sunshades which were thrust at him on his way out the door.

“The last thing we need right now are pictures of you in tears,” Luke has grumbled as he shut the door behind Tom.

The ride back to his home was a blur. He could remember bits and pieces of the journey but he still blinked in confusion when the car pulled to a stop at the gate. Tom stumbled from the back of the car, punching the gate code in with shaking hands, and then slowly up the steps towards his door. He dropped the keys twice before managing to unlock the door and push it open.

The house was silent and dark for all that the midday sunlight was pouring in through the curtains lining the sitting room windows. He hated it. Hated everything about it. Tom fell back against the door, hearing it click shut against the push of his weight, and sank to the floor. He rested his head against his bent knees and simply fought to breathe.

He hadn’t any idea how long he’d been sitting there, he was only now aware that the hallway was now painted in growing shadow. Blinking, Tom rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands and slowly pushed himself to his feet. His back throbbed as he stood upright, attesting to the fact he must have been sitting for quite some time. He rubbed it absently as he made his way into the kitchen.

Pulling a glass from the cabinet, he carried it to the sink and filled it with cool water, downing it in three gulps. He filled the glass twice more before making his way into the living room and dropping himself onto the sofa. Everything he’d found himself clinging to, the faint glimmer of hope in the storm his life had fallen into, had been for nothing and once more he found himself floundering. How could he ever hope to fix any of this now?

                                                           —

The next few days crept past, Tom moving through the motions more than anything. He answered the phone when Luke or his mother called, insisting he was fine in a tone which fooled no one, least of all himself. He read scripts and tried to eat on a regular basis; though he failed more than succeeded in that front. Tom felt as though he was living underwater, he could see things happening around him, hear distant echoes but could not seem to reach out and actually be one with them. Not that he was truly trying over much.

Each time Luke called, Tom found himself asking if he’d heard anything from Molly. Desperate for something, anything to let him know she was alright. How could this ever be alright? She hadn’t called him, not that he’d expected her to but still he’d hoped, and each time he tried her number it rang out as disconnected. Luke had brushed him off nearly every time, “This is your mess, mate, and I won’t get myself involved any more than I need to.”

“Just let me know if she’s okay. I just need to know that she’s alright.”

“Tom,” Luke breathed out in exasperation, “Don’t put me in this situation, I am asking as your friend. And as hers. Please, let it be.”

“I can’t, Luke. Not when things are like this. Not if there isn’t a chance I could try to make this right.”

“No, Tom.”

He couldn’t seem to let the idea go. The need to speak with Molly, to know that she was alright. To try all he could do to fix the mess he’d made. And maybe, just maybe now that he knew for certain that the boy wasn’t his…Maybe she would be able to forgive him. Maybe that could make this work. Maybe they could be a family. Maybe…

                                                           —

Tom hadn’t let himself think as he made his way down the brightly lit hallway. Hadn’t acknowledged anything more than the blaze of hope that sparked in him when Molly had finally agreed to meet with him. It had taken nearly two weeks to get her to take his call, let alone speak with him, and even then he knew it was with extreme reluctance.

Luke had played middleman begrudgingly and made it perfectly clear though he was paid to look after Tom’s interests, he was firmly on Molly’s side in this. “Keep your head, Tom,” Luke had cautioned him as he handed over the folded piece of paper on which he’d written Molly’s current number. “She is giving you the chance to talk, don’t fuck this up. And please, for the love of god, don’t make this worse.”

He meticulously scanned each of the numbers on the doors until he’d come to Molly’s, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering steadily in his gut. Molly, he’d learned, had initially been staying at a friend’s while she searched for more permanent arrangements and had moved into her own flat the week before. The flat wasn’t too far from the house they’d shared, Tom had stared at the address she’d given him in disbelief. So close. She’d been so close and he’d not been any the wiser. The knowledge of it stung far more than he’d wanted to admit. But she’d agreed to meet with him. To talk. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Taking a deep breath he raised his hand and knocked gently on the door. He rocked on his heels, shoving his hands firmly into his pockets to stop their fidgeting. He always seemed to fidget when he was nervous. He could hear a rustling from inside and the click of the lock unlatching. His heart stuttered and froze in his chest as the door opened and he found Molly standing before him.

He could see the toll of the last few weeks painted across her features. There were shadows under her light blue eyes and a wariness in them, and in her posture, he didn’t quite understand. She was clearly exhausted and it took all he had to keep himself from sweeping in and trying to fix things, as every fiber in his being wanted him to. She merely nodded at him, standing firmly in the doorway.

“How are you?” The question slipped from his lips without his bidding and Tom wanted to kick himself for it. “I’m sorry that was…I didn’t mean…”

“Just don’t, Tom,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

Tom felt his heart constrict in his chest at the pain he could see in Molly’s eyes, no matter how desperately she tried to hide it. He was the worst sort of person and he knew it. But maybe…Just maybe if she let him talk, let him explain, this might be a way to begin to rebuild the shattered trust between them.

Please. Please.

Several silent moments passed between them before Molly stood aside and allowed him to walk past her into the flat. He found his eyes scanning the small, but cozy, looking front room. There wasn’t a great deal in the way of furniture; a squashy grey sofa and matching arm chair, darkly stained coffee and end tables, and a wooden and metal bookshelf still mostly empty. Boxes lined the far left hand wall, stacked neatly with the top-most open.

Molly settled herself on the armchair, crossing her arms loosely across her chest. Tom quietly did the same on the sofa. Neither spoke, the silence between them growing more strained by the moment. He heard rather than saw Molly take a deep breath and quickly raised his eyes to her face. “You wanted to talk, Tom.”

Tom clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap. He could feel her cool eyes locked on him. It was now or never. He swallowed thickly before speaking, knowing he had to get the words out. Had to make her understand. The worst was over now. They could try to rebuild. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that, but it would be worth it. They could do this.

“I…We got the results back. Of the paternity test. The child he…He isn’t mine.” The words came out in a rush and hope burned brightly in his eyes as Tom stared into Molly’s. It was going to be alright, it had to be. He’d been given a second chance. They both had. Surely, she could see that.

He waited, watching the emotion play across her face. Waited for the confusion to break into a quiet joy. For her to understand that it was over and that they could make this work. They could truly be a family. And he would make all of this up to her. He would make it right. This was his chance to do so.

“Oh.” The word tumbled from her lips. “I’m glad it’s settled for you then.” But she didn’t smile. No sign of relief spread across her features. Nothing had changed…

“Oh,” Tom echoed and felt his heart sink. “But I thought…”

“You thought what, Tom?” Molly’s sharp tone cut straight through him and he flinched at her words. “You thought that just because her paternity claim was false that everything would be fine? You lied to me Tom. You slept with someone else and then lied to me about it. You got a fucking STI and you kept that from me. You took what we had and threw it in the fire and you think that just because you dodged this particular bullet I should be grateful and forgive you?” Frustration and disbelief shone in her bright eyes. “I’m sorry Tom, but that is not how it works. That is not how any of this fucking works.”

“It was a mistake,” he started, needing her to listen to him. To give him a chance to fix it.

“No, Tom,” Molly snapped out, pushing herself to her feet. She paced around the room, hands waving as she carried on. “A mistake is getting the reservation times mixed up. A mistake is forgetting to call after you’ve made it home safe. Sleeping with someone else and lying about it for two years…That…That is not a fucking mistake and don’t you dare try to pass it off as such.”

He stood as well, staring at her as the words she’d thrown at him hit home. “I…Molly, please, tell me how to fix this,” he pleaded, unconsciously reaching out toward her. “Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it. Anything. Anything at all. Just please, please let me fix this.” He took two cautious steps towards her.

Molly shook her head, taking several steps back from him. “You don’t get it, Tom. There is no fixing this.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and locked her eyes on his. “That time came and went two fucking years ago. You lied to me. Again and again and again. You made the life I thought we were building together into a nothing more than a mockery of what it should have been. You can’t fix this, Thomas. Not now.”

“Please don’t say that, Molly,” he begged, fear choking his voice. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. This couldn’t be happening. He had to fix this. He had to. “Please don’t. I can’t…I have to fix this. Please.”

Molly shook her head. “No, Tom. There is no fixing this.”

“But the baby…” His words trailed off as his eyes lingered on her distant form. Her baby. Their baby. This baby needed them both. They had to fix this. He had to fix this.

Molly’s hands unconsciously dropped to her stomach, cupping now barely visible swell there. He doubted he would have even seen it had she not done so. “Don’t, Tom,” She whispered, taking a deep breath before continuing her voice stronger. “This baby is the only reason I am even speaking to you.” There was a fire in her eyes Tom had never seen and truth be told it terrified him. Anger was never an emotion he’d ever truly seen from Molly, not centered on him, and to see it now let loose a very real spasm of fear. “Don’t you dare try to use this baby to get your own damned way!”

Tom leapt to his feet, hands raised before him, and took a tentative step towards Molly. “That isn’t what I’m trying to do.” And it wasn’t…Not completely. He couldn’t let her shut him out. Not now. He needed to fix this before it was too late.

“I think you should leave, Tom.”

Her words didn’t make any sense. “No, please don’t…” He couldn’t leave now. If he left then he might never get another chance to fix this. And he had to fix it. He had to.

Molly shook her head, walking with steadfast determination to the door. “I want you to leave right now. I can’t do this.”

“But…”

“Tom, please.”

He stood for several moments, indecision painted across his features before his shoulders slumped in defeat and he walked quietly to the door. Tom paused, his eyes roaming over Molly’s stoic face. He took a slow, deep breath and spoke quietly. “For what it’s worth, Molly, I am truly sorry.”

“That’s all well and good, Tom, but sorry doesn’t fix anything.”

Tom nodded, forcing the ghost of a smile as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. “I know.” And god I wish it would. Without another word he turned and walked out of the flat.

                                                           —

Luke’s call came almost an hour after Tom had made his way home. He thought, briefly, about simply letting the call go to voicemail; it would be infinitely easier than whatever Luke had to say. Instead he slid his finger across the screen and placed the call on speaker. “Yes, Luke?”

There was a resigned sigh before Luke’s voice echoed throughout the room. “Why can’t you listen to what I tell you? Just once, for the sheer novelty value of it.”

“I just…I wanted to fix it…”

Luke groaned. “Tom, you cannot fix this. Not now. The time to fix it was two damned years ago. And if you’d just told her like I all but begged you to…”

“I know, Luke,” Tom snapped, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “I fucking know! You don’t need to tell me I fucked up the best thing in my life because I’m a selfish bastard. I know, Luke. I can’t ever forget it! I just…I had to try.” He fought to keep his words steady as the composure he’d struggled desperately to keep finally broke. Sobs wracked him and he found himself gasping for breath. It took several minutes to calm himself enough to speak clearly. “I just…I couldn’t not try.”

“Well your trying could make this much, much worse. You have to know that,” Luke stressed and Tom could hear the strain in the man’s voice. “The press doesn’t know Molly is pregnant, and thank god for that, but it’s not something that can be hidden forever. Not with the way the press has been on what’s happened. And when it does come out, they are going to be brutal; not only to you but to her as well. You push her too far and she could wash her hands of you entirely. She could up and leave and keep the baby from you and fuck me, I don’t know if I could blame her.”

Tom felt the barely contained panic threatening to break loose once again. Molly leaving and keeping their baby from him. Both of them gone for good. His knees buckled and it took all he had to lower himself onto the floor lest they give out completely and he collapse. “She wouldn’t…Molly wouldn’t ever…”

“There was a time when she would have said the same thing about you and we both know how that turned out.” Luke let out a frustrated sigh. “Tom, speaking as your publicist, I’m asking…No, Tom, I’m telling you to leave her be. Don’t push. Don’t try to fix it. Just let me handle this. Please. Before it goes from bad to worse. Do you hear me?”

It was several moments before Tom realized that Luke could not see him nodding and croaked out his assent. Yes, he would leave her alone. He would let Luke sort this as best he could. The call ended soon after but Tom remained on the floor, his mind racing.

How had all of this spiraled so far out of control? How could he have let this happen? He knew better. He should have come clean to Molly when she had called him back that night; should have told her the truth and begged her forgiveness. But he hadn’t and now there was nothing he could do to fix the mess he’d made.

                                                         —

In the two weeks that followed, Tom did his best to keep to Luke’s request. He kept his head down as best he could, kept mostly to his home and went through the small pile of scripts that had started to accumulate. Not that he could actually focus on them; he’d read the same passage three times in the last ten minutes and still couldn’t make hide nor hair of any of it. With a tired groan, Tom tossed the script aside, rubbing his bleary eyes with the palms of his hands. There was no point in trying to pretend he was going to get anywhere with them, not with the way his mind refused to focus.

Pushing himself to his feet, he padded from the living room towards the kitchen. Mindlessly, he set about making himself a mug of tea; loose leaf tea from the cabinet, water in the kettle and setting it to boil, jug of milk from the refrigerator, mug and strainer set aside waiting. There was something soothing about the whole process; it was something he had done thousands of times. It made him think of home and his mum and the times when all the world’s ails could be cured with a cuppa.

As the kettle boiled he set about measuring out the tea and placing it in the strainer atop the green chipped mug. A few minutes later had the kettle boiled, the water poured, and the fragrant leaves brewing. Once steeped he tossed the used tea leaves, added his milk, and carried the mug back into the living room. Tea might not fix everything, but with all that had happened, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

He settled back onto the couch and sipped while he debated picking up the script once more. It wasn’t the best story he’d ever read, but decent enough. Under normal circumstances, and had his head been clearer, he knew he’d been very much taken in by it. As it was though…

Tom let out a soft sigh, resting his mug atop his knee and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He needed to get himself together. Falling apart wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all himself; he’d known that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

A muffled ring echoed from between the cushions of the sofa.

Perplexed, Tom sat staring for several long moments before his wits caught up with him. He leapt to his feet, placing his mug on the edge of the coffee table, and reached between the cushions where the ringing seemed be loudest. He grumbled as his fingers at first found nothing then just as quickly slid against the smooth metal back of his mobile. He yanked it out and slid his finger across the screen to answer, not bothering to look at the number. It was most likely his mother; she’d spent the past week trying to encourage him to come home for a few days to “get away”. He knew she worried over him and with all the goings on, her mothering instinct had gone into overdrive.

“Hello?”

Luke’s voice echoed through the mobile’s speaker. “Tom, is this a good time?”

While there wasn’t anything off about Luke’s question, there was something in the tone of it that set off alarm bells in Tom’s mind. Panic, potent and strong flooded through. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he fought for control of his voice. Something was wrong. Molly’s face flashed before his eyes.

Let her be okay. Let her and the baby be okay. Please. Please.

“Luke, what is it? What’s happened?” He knew his voice was shaking, knew all his bloody training was less than worthless now, and there was little he could do to stop it.

There was a soft sigh and a pause before Luke answered. “I’m about five minutes from yours and I have something we need to talk about.”

He managed to grunt something, he couldn’t say exactly what, in response and only half heard Luke’s answer before the call ended. He stared at the now blank screen as he collapsed back onto the sofa. His hands shook and he felt the mobile slip from his fingers to land on the rug below with a soft thump.

It took several minutes for Tom to register that the buzzing he was hearing was coming from the doorbell and not his head. It took another few moments to get to his feet and stumble towards the door. His fingers felt large, clumsy, and useless as he struggled with the lock. It took two tries to get it undone and to pull the darkly stained wooden door open.

Luke stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression painted across his face. He pulled his sunglasses off as he stepped inside and offered Tom a small, half-hearted smile which did little to put him at ease. They both stood in the entryway, silence spreading between them. There were so many things Tom wanted to ask but the words simply wouldn’t come.

“I think we should probably sit down for this,” Luke suggested, putting a hand on Tom’s shoulder and guiding him towards the living room.

Tom felt his heart plummet at Luke’s words and stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa. Luke settled in the arm-chair adjacent, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Clearing his throat, Tom forced himself to raise his eyes towards Luke and choked out. “What is it?”

Luke faltered for a moment before answering. He leant forward, pausing briefly to pull an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Over the last week and a half I’ve been in talks with a solicitor.” He paused once again and handed the envelope to Tom. His brow furrowing in confusion, Tom held the envelope in his hand staring from it to Luke. What could Heather possibly want now? Hadn’t she done enough?

“Molly’s solicitor.”

Tom’s head snapped up at this, his eyes widening as the colour drained slowly from his face. “Wh-what?”

“She had them contact me shortly after…Anyway, with all things being equal and with all that’s been happening, she wanted to get things in writing, as clearly as she could, before all of this gets out in the public. Because it will, Tom, whether you or I or Molly want it to or not.”

It was as if Luke was speaking from someplace far off, his voice was muffled and try as he might Tom could barely make sense of any of it. His fingers shook as he turned the off-white envelope over in his hands, only partially registering his name written across its front, and tore open its seal.

The paper inside was of surprisingly good quality; a creamy white which was a strong contrast to the crisp black of the text. The printed words seemed to blur as he struggled to make sense of them. His breath came in short, pained gasps as slowly, agonizingly their meaning became clear.

She wasn’t contesting his paternity and welcomed him to a paternity test if he so wished; if he wanted to be involved in the life of their child she would not deny him. But that was as far as she was prepared to go. He wasn’t allowed to contact her in any way unless in pertained to the child. She would share important doctor’s visits and any and all test results if requested. His presence at the birth would be up for discussion as the time drew closer though she did not want him alone with her in the room.

A choked sob fell from his lips as the paper slipped from his numb fingers to the floor. Tom couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. God this wasn’t happening. Please, god, this couldn’t be happening. He jumped at the feel of a hand resting on his shoulder and blinked up through tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed at Luke’s impassive face.

“Deep breath, mate. Just breathe.”

Tom struggled to draw in air, his lungs burning with the effort. It felt as though he was simply fighting to keep his head above the surface of a crushing sea. And each time he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d caught his breath another wave would crest and he’d be dragged back under.

“Why?” He managed to choke out.

Luke let out a soft, resigned sigh. “Because she knew you wouldn’t listen any other way.” He gripped Tom’s shoulder lightly. “You push and you push and you don’t listen. She knows you, Tom. And she took the steps she felt were necessary to protect herself. All you can do now is respect that. Don’t push her on this. Please, if you listen to nothing else I ask of you listen to this, please respect her choice in this matter. Respect the boundaries she is setting. Don’t push her to take this further.”

Unable to speak, Tom simply nodded. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore, no matter how loudly his mind screamed for him to do so. This was his fault. All of it. Molly hated him and if he pushed any further he wasn’t completely sure if she wouldn’t take away the only remaining tie left between them. And he couldn’t lose that. Not after everything. But knowing that and accepting it were two completely different things and at that moment Tom wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to make that leap. And if he didn’t, what would it cost him?

[likeshipsonthesea]

for the things you said post could you do 20? (and if you're taking requests pls either no angsty or happy ending)

you’re asking the wrong person for no angst but for you anon i will do my best. from this list for nurseydex 20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

There is something undeniably charming about Dex’s childhood home.

It’s cramped in places, hallways too small to fit the shoulders of NCAA athletes, ceilings just a bit short the tops of their heads. But the small rooms are stuffed with furniture that welcomes you in with plush cushions and soft colors. The kitchen smells of savory things, a kind of comfort in the food that Nursey can taste, even growing up with such different dinners. Pictures of family, recent and aged, line the walls of every room, some taken in the very places they hang.

The very bones of the house seem to bend to accommodate those inside. Wood, stretching and creaking, yawning wide smiles in the curve of its railings and sighing lullabies with each shifting wind. Nursey walks among the walls of Dex’s home and the fear he’d felt at being out of place seems to melt.

Nursey sifts through a drawer of Dex’s things, transferring them into one of the boxes Dex got from the local liquor store, for free. Most of it Dex will probably throw out– binders and notebooks, full of high school notes, dead pens and broken pencils, a few ratty clothes at the bottom. Nursey carefully puts it into the box anyway, taking his time. When he told Dex he would help pack up his stuff in Maine, he meant it. And he intends to follow that through to the best of his ability.

Once the box is full, Nursey picks it up and makes his way down the creaky steps, smiling at a particularly long groan. At the very bottom of the steps, he opens his mouth to call to Dex to ask where this box should go but Mrs. Poindexter’s voice filters through the thin walls first.

“Do you love him?”

The box suddenly seems infinitely heavier.

Nursey ought to announce his presence, walk into the living room or call Dex’s name. At the least, he should walk away, let Dex answer without Nursey’s uninvited presence within earshot.

“Ma,” Dex says, a sigh of exasperation more than a word.

“I don’t–” Mrs. Poindexter stops. 

Nursey’s breath tangles itself in incomprehensible knots, complicated ones that Dex probably knows because he can sail and he’s got all those calluses and he’s from this sigh of an embrace kind of place where the people don’t seem to understand acceptance as well as their sea-salt laden wood does.

“I don’t mind if you do,” she says, quiet, slow. “I’m– I’m happy if you do.”

Dex’s silence rings in Nursey’s ears. He wishes he was in the room. He wishes he could understand what emotions played across the now-familiar parts of Dex’s face.

“I want you to– have that. Love.”

Nursey curls his fingers tighter around the cardboard box in his arms. The side of it reads Cupcake Liquor. It holds the remnants of a high school experience best left forgotten. Andover was not Dex’s high school, but there are some things that transcend even a difference that stark. The sensation of drowning is one of them.

Last week, Nursey left the brightest home he ever knew. One that smelled of homemade alcohol and boy sweat, sounded like a sailor’s bar and tasted like a bakery. A world where on-ice defense and in-world protection melded together into something constant and unavoidable. A world where love was a noun and an action and a choice and something bigger than any of those things.

Oh, Mrs. Poindexter, Nursey thinks, he already does.

“Thank you,” Dex says, and it’s almost too quiet, and Nursey is almost too distracted to notice it.

Silence resettles, warmer, maybe. Nursey holds his breath for a few seconds before lifting his foot to enter the room.

Foot mid-air, Dex says, “I do love him.”

Nursey stutters, suspended.

Mrs. Poindexter hums. “He loves you, too.”

Nursey, amidst the whole brain-spinning, heart-tumbling, chaotic mess of emotions currently processing in and around his body, manages to berate himself for being so obvious that it only took half a day in Mrs. Poindexter’s house for her to decide he was head over heels for her youngest son. How horrifyingly unchill.

Then Dex goes and says, “I know,” in a voice rivaling that of the sighing, singing, lullaby of a house and all it’s creaky bits, a voice that is sure and pleased and yet tentative enough to acknowledge the wonder it holds regardless.

Nursey’s foot hits the floor. On the next breath, he moves towards the living room. “Dex,” he says, in the doorway, “I have another box.”

Dex looks up. His eyes are softly open and bright, his lips a hint of a smile to come, or one that has already passed. He’s freckley and orange and all together too much and he loves Nursey, besides.

“Oh, good,” Dex says, standing up to look through it. Once he’s finished sifting, he asks, “Could you take it out to the car?”

Nursey says yes. He doubts he could say anything but to Dex, now.

Though, as he loads the box into the car next to the others, full of other bits of Dex’s life from before he came to Samwell, before he met Nursey, before he grew into the kind of person who asked for help with determination and apprehension in every syllable, Nursey can’t help but smile.

All things happen for a reason, from college acceptance letters to artfully overheard conversations. Nursey is glad to be along for the ride.

[maraistyping]

Paper hearts

Rather cold drops of sweat rolled down along Will’s cheeks as if trying to imitate the tears that the blond was sure would eventually spill if he didn’t manage to get his emotional state in check. A more than simply unlikely scenario that would probably not occur in that said plane of reality, especially with all the endless bad possibilities his brain seemed to find join on imagining for him and the growing sense of mixed nervousness and anxiety he could swear was making an endless pit on his stomach.

The blue eyed forced a deep breath of air to fill his lungs as he sloppily passed his forearm across the thin line that marked the start of his face, where messy blond locks laid tiredly, in an attempt to stop the sticky liquid coming from making him feel even more out of place, thing that he didn’t quite believe that possible but he didn’t really feel like pushing his luck at the time being. A weird sensation of roughness gluing itself to his forehead, causing him to quickly order his arm to retreat from its position, his glance catching a flashy glow of fuchsia glitter spread along his freckled limp whose skin could have make an example of how to, poorly, make scale like figures for a rushed Halloween costume. He wondered what other things he might have missed when he looked at himself in the mirror before heading out to school.

Will hadn’t really been planning on pulling an all-nighter when the full moon rested above his head the previous day, he hadn’t really foreseen that possibility, the wild idea just presented itself to him as if it owned the room in an unexpected way at what most people would consider an ungodly hour. In all honesty, the more his mind decided to show him images of his decision making, the more nervous he could feel and possibly look on the outside as well.

It had been a considerable time before midnight, at least for people who considered two sets of sixty minutes to be somewhere near decent, when the little bulb inside his head lighted up. After such a, even though rather lazy, tiring day, he had been ready to slip into bed and let dreams cloud his mind and wash his senses; his awake mind, however, forced his eyes open as a feeling of motivation spread through his chest, warming up his interior.

The blue eyed didn’t actually do much to celebrate Valentine’s Day, not anymore at least, the days in which a small child of blond locks rushed around the halls of the house while clutching small rectangular cards written in messy handwriting and addressed to all of the members of the household were long gone in the abysm of the past. He wasn’t really certain what happened, what made him stop making those most likely poorly executed details. Perhaps it had been the anxious thoughts that occasionally rushed through his head as he stood in a room that featured a lot of people directly staring at him, maybe it simply was the stress that came with homework and responsibilities.

The reason, the blond supposed, didn’t matter anymore, especially since he was about to bring said tradition, if he could in anyway actually call it like that after having neglected it for some years, back. It would, however, have some changes that could enter in the categories of either great or minor, and hopefully in the later “a decent appearance” could be added.

A slight variation that he considered to be of some importance was who he was going to gift something to. In the past, it had been mainly just his family: Valentine’s had always been for him an occasion to celebrate the relationships that one had with others, the ones that had made a really valuable impact on one’s life, and he still stood for that; however, perhaps he should add something most of people related with the date that year.

The reason? One that hadn’t been born out of nowhere but some feelings that had been born a while ago; and although he couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact time, he could name the individual who had caused all of those incomprehensible emotions inside his younger self.

Nico di Angelo, that short-tempered, considerably stubborn and, in his own way, rather adorable Italian he became best friends with during their second year of high school after the blond had stalked him, at least according to the dark haired who never failed to remind him of those first months whenever Will decided to make a comment on his people skills.

The boy had been usually alone at that time. Never really talked to anyone, not even when it came to intervening in class or when it was time to do group projects, even then he was void of company, almost as he lived in a ghostly plane of reality. It didn’t matter when the blue eyed were to look, the other wasn’t approached by no one, being either listening to music or frenetically moving the point of a pen over the surface of a paper without a care in the world around him.

He wasn’t really certain the exact explanation he gave to himself, that could have been convincing enough, to walk towards the silent being and try to engage into conversation, a considerably awkward judged by the face the owner of the chocolate irises had pulled, a mental image that sometimes still made him chuckle to that day.

Back then it didn’t take him longer to realize that, not even the other’s body language, seemed to come up with a proper response to the sentences Will spoke to try to make the conversation flow. The situation progressively started to change with time though, going to some extend that, on some days, Nico would be the one trying to put a topic on display for them to talk about. Progress wasn’t made in a day, but the blond would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t think it worth it when even a little smile forming on the other’s face would make his heart warm up.

That’s when he knew that perhaps, just maybe, friendship wasn’t the only type of love he might hold for the dark haired that had more sarcasm in his body that possibly half of the world population. Probably some people would have seen a problem with that: how to act on those feelings; his problem was a little bit difficult, his was more about if he really should take a shot.

Sure, it didn’t sound that problematic if he were to just think it like that, overthinking, however, was pretty much a thing that haunted him in a lot of occasions, the said one included. Just walking towards the other being, looking them straight in the eye and telling them what they want said person to know might work for others, but not for him. It would be way too easy, nothing in life was as simple as that.

That was possibly what surprised him the most to be honest: the fact that he had decided to do something about the situation, if the best he could do to get it out of his chest was a cheesy Valentine’s card then so let be it.

He spent his night, and a considerable amount of the morning trying to make a decent looking product with all the materials he could find at home, all while trying to make as less noise as possible, not wanting to interrupt his parents nor his siblings’ sleep, partially because someone being awake other than him would mean interrogation hour full of questions he didn’t have or didn’t want to give the answers for.

So there he was now, walking down one of the halls of the school he attended to, his glance shifting its attention from the path in front of him to the weirdly shaped heart card courtesy of both his lack of proper rest and his inability to proper cut with scissors while a debate of what to do took place inside his mind.

A deep breath of fresh air entered through his mouth as he fixed his stare on the object he carefully grabbed between his shaky hands. He knew that if he looked at it too much, he would end up giving up on the idea as a whole whatsoever but he couldn’t help it. His blue irises analyzed the rather sparkly front not completely covered in glitter, the small holes of emptiness showing the red coloration the paper had originally.

Will briefly considered opening the letter, rereading its content as he had done before placing a foot into the building, but decided against it. The blond had the feeling, although it was more of a factual thing since his sleep deprived self was the one who had written the message after all, it would only worsen the sensations traveling through his nerves without a care in the world nor bothering at all about his own well-being.

His fingers tightened their grip slightly as he found himself getting closer to the cafeteria, area full of tables in which the person he was looking for, and considering avoiding at the same time, usually sat down until the classes were to begin. Never in his life, had the blue eyed had feel as anxious when standing in front of a door not by much bigger than him, one that he knew meant no threat and that simply hid a room in which he most likely could talk alone with the dark haired. For some reason that mere thought made his muscles tense on the spot, almost freezing him in place.

He couldn’t quite understand it, not from a logical point of view anyway. The blond was aware that he was most likely being dramatic in a way, that his thoughts were just messing with his emotions, he couldn’t help it though: knowing small details like those didn’t stop the headache that he could feel lurking around.

Will forced his lungs to take in a new current of fresh air, letting the rather hot breeze around him enter through his nostrils as he tried his best to make his muscles relax. He let his eyes fall shut as he took another deep breath, trying to ignore the pressure he felt right above his eyebrows. It would be alright, wouldn’t it be? He probably shouldn’t go asking himself questions like those, he wasn’t in the mood to taste the universe.

His eyelids uncovered his blue irises, which stared at the slightly opened door with a new sense of determination. He was doing this, he was truly doing this, he hadn’t invested so much time into thinking about the whole thing to not go for it at the end.

There’s no going back, the blond said to himself mentally as reassuringly as possible before he placed one sparkly hand against the surface of the door, pushing it open with probably more force than necessary judged by the way the piece of wood flew open, a side ending up banging aggressively against the wall. The loud sound made him unconsciously wince, although it couldn’t really compare to the shiver passing along his spine when he noticed two pair of eyes had decided to glue themselves to the direction that originated the noise.

The blond bitted his bottom lip little, gesture that, even if mostly unnoticeable from the place the other beings were sitting down, showed his nervous state. He forced his feet to take a couple of steps forward, cursing on his insides the small wave of heat that he felt spreading near his cheekbones. He could do this, he had already attracted some attention to himself…too much for him to turn around and just simply leave.

In all honesty, there were a couple of things he hadn’t been expecting from the particular scenario in front of him. First of all, he hadn’t been counting on having someone else other than Nico at that exact time, not when he would have rather like the humiliation, if it were to come, to have as less witnesses as possible.

Will didn’t had anything against the owner of the electric blue eyes, he really didn’t, especially since it demonstrated, in a way, how Nico had progressively started to get out of his shell, getting more comfortable with his own skin. Besides, Jason, even if slightly older, was someone he looked up to, and, even though not out loud, thanked for being there for the dark haired.

The second thing, and something he hadn’t picture on his imagination while he practiced briefly on his head what to say, were the rather big pile of pink and red laying on the table in a rather uncaring manner. The blond felt the lump blocking his throat getting thicker.

He wasn’t certain of what he was expecting but, the more he thought about it, the more sense the situation made. Nico, even though he didn’t approached people not he looked that approachable most of the time, especially after a rather sleepless night, had a mysterious air around him that made a lot of people inclined towards him. If the blue eyed had to be truthful, he couldn’t really blame them because that was what the owner of the brown irises was: a field full of magnetic energy that attracted whatever object that entered in proximity to him. Will had walked straight into the danger zone willingly and knowingly, he couldn’t say he regretted it.

His glance stopped over the pile of the bunch of Valentine’s cards on display, he suddenly felt himself shrinking at their presence. They all looked different from the other, no design repeating itself twice, giving each of them an air of individuality and uniqueness that only got disturbed by the fact that they all had, in one way or another, a heart for everyone to see. All of them got another thing in common though: their fancy look made his not that great made present look pathetic in comparison.

His legs continued moving closer to the other two boys in autopilot as a hurricane of wild thoughts invaded his brain, full of so many emotions that trying to identify one was more than a simple challenge at this point. He was glad that the two sitting down had stopped glancing at him to discuss something between them. What it was? The blond couldn’t know from where he was yet since their voice came out as barely more than a fain whisper.

Before he could properly register, he was standing in front of the plastic looking table partially hidden under a bunch of feelings translated to disposable pieces of paper, the feeling of nervousness presenting itself as strong as it had been since the time he left his house. He passed a chunk of saliva that was settling down at the base of his throat preventing him to speak out as he mentally prepared himself to say at least a variation of the words he had kept inside him for some while now.

His lips parted opened as sentences organized themselves in his head and… Nothing. That was all that took place, or rather what didn’t. Perhaps it was the way his brain had found to warn him that the possibility of him screwing up was pretty much still a thing, that all the time he had spent assuring the dark haired that he could trust him, all the time it took for the other to get closer to him could go down the drain as easily and just as fast as the though.

He had had enough though, enough of leaving those feelings caged inside his being. He had had enough of hiding and, if he had to pay a price to pay for that to happen…he would at least try to make the words coming out of his mouth worth that said price.

“Hey, uh, I… I have this for-” The blue eyed began to say as he hesitantly extended the handmade card towards the Italian, whose eyes widened at a rather unnatural speed as soon as his glance stopped on the object he was carrying.

“Are you serious?” Nico interrupted, his brown irises carrying a murderous look in them that would probably have caused a change in the temperature of the rom if it weren’t for the heaters distributed around the area. “I don’t get why people can’t just leave you all out of this or at least stop giving me papers I really don’t have interest in keeping.”

Will took another deep breath to try to calm himself down, to get him emotional state under control, to give himself the force necessary to let his message be heard the way he wanted it to be. “This is not… You are not understanding correctly.”

“Maybe I don’t want to!” The dark haired practically shouted, making a whimper unconsciously left his mouth due to the unexpected of the other’s action. He was about to speak up again but all of his possible lines were interrupted by the brown eyed once again, whose voice almost sounded void of any heartwarming feeling and emotion. “Just…toss it into the pile, alright? Or give it back to the person who told you to give it to me.”

The blond bitted the inside of his cheek lightly as he silently pulled the card closer to himself, almost as if wishing it would blend with his clothes, preventing anyone else to look at it, to look at the reminder of the fact that every action had an equal opposite reaction that, in most cases, isn’t the one an individual would rather prefer. He would honestly like to leave that reminder behind, the images plastered on his memories were enough already.

He was about to make an excuse, one that sadly couldn’t come faster to him, the blue eyed would take whatever poorly constructed sentence as long as it meant a ticket away from that awkward situation. He was that desperate, state that only got worse as soon as he caught up the fact that the boy sitting close to the dark haired was staring at him.

Will was about to crack, what would probably come out as a rather tense, smile, he stopped himself, however when he realized what Jason had been stared specifically: the faint reddish sparkles on his arms that matched the style of the card he was holding. It was almost as he could see the engines of thoughts working on the other’s head, his eyes wide open as he a sudden realization hit him like tons of bricks.

He shook his head in a quick, but close to unnoticeable, gesture, almost begging the slightly older being to keep his mouth shut, to not say what nobody else needed to know, what could be better forgotten under the fog of oblivion. Judged by the stare he received, it was almost safe to assume that, just because silence would remain, it didn’t automatically mean it had approval.

The blond didn’t wait for the other to continue his quiet pep talk, turning around rather quickly as soon as the knock on his stomach lessened in terms of pressure. He somehow felt as if he was bounded to the room though, trapped forever in there to relive those seconds, the most torturous ones he had ever experienced

“Where are you going?” He head Nico’s voice ask, a hint of rather obvious curiosity surrounding his words. Will never thought he would utterly dislike hearing the brown eyed talking to him as much as he did at the time.

It wasn’t him being resentful, not quite, he just couldn’t stand being around others at the time. All he wanted was to be alone, to have some time for himself, to think, to reconsider, to just…get away.

The blond didn’t turn his head to glance at the other, he was afraid that he would snap, that he would break. He took a rather shaky breath, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he tried to contain the ragged sounds that threatened to crawl out of his throat. “I just have to pick something up, I’ll be back in a while.” He said, actually surprised by the fact that he had managed to sound alright, as okay as one could manage to sound in that particular scenario at least.

The blond slowly started to head towards the exit door, his pace becoming faster as the only way of escape seemed to get further into the walls. He couldn’t resist it anymore. The room suddenly started to hold less air, looking smaller and smaller every time he dared to step closer towards his objective. He really needed to get out, he had to, he just couldn’t bear, didn’t know how to, with the situation.

“Will?” Someone, a voice he knew rather well, pulled him out of his thoughts, transporting him back to reality.

“Yes?” He couldn’t help but to sound hopeful, although that small fire glowing as dim as an ember in the cold winter died pretty quickly as the brown eyed spoke once more.

“If someone else asks for you to give me another ridiculous heart shaped card, tell them I’m not interested.”

His glance moved to the paper heart on his hand, its edges showing wrinkles and imperfections whenever he were to look, from the way the corners had been cut to the small pieces of papers that simulated badly made spikes that had refused to be wiped out of existence. Ridiculous. The blond shallowed rather loudly, although he could bet that the sound of his blood pumping organ shattering in million pieces would have been easier to detect.

“Don’t worry, will do.” Will breathed out before pushing the door, only for it to not open as he would have liked. He cursed under his breath as he pulled from the handles with desperation, trying his best to ignore the rather confused glances he could feel fixed on his back. It wasn’t needed right now, it all lacked of importance.

Valentine’s Day was overrated anyway, at least in the purely romantic way to celebrate it. It was all surrounded by consumerism and the idea that said day had to be the one when one had to say how much they cared for a partner, instead of simply just saying it and showing it all the time, even if only with little things. Besides, there was no way to deny the fact that chocolate and sweets were rather expensive during said date.

Besides, even if he really wanted to touch the topic on the, for some reason unknown to him, proclaimed day of love, the holiday wasn’t going to stop existing from day to day, the month already found itself surrounded and tangled with the holiday with no chance of escaping. There was still time, there would always be another occasion.

He could always try again next year, or the one after that, or even later on or…never again.

[imaginecoderealize]

Hi everyone 😊 have you any headcanons or stories about boy's childhood?(with Hansel and Nemo )

We hope you enjoy this small glimpse into the kids’ lives before they became the heroes we love!

- Mod Apostle and Mod Nautilus

LUPIN:

- Lupin started out smaller and weaker than most of the otherstreet kids, but he proved to also be the cleverest. The other kids began tolook up to him and treat him as a leader, despite his youth and small size.They were so skilled at their work using Lupin’s methods that people began toavoid the popular markets they haunted. The police took notice and the kidsonly grew more talented at playing hide and seek with the police and makingthem look like fools. 

- Lupin’s first brush with being a ‘thief with a heart ofjustice’ was when he saw a frail old woman robbed and thrown down into analley. He always picked the pockets of the rich and considered it poor form topick on ‘easy targets’. He stole back the woman’s purse, only to find it veryheavy with gold. He was tempted to keep it, but recalling the woman’s frailty,he dutifully brought the purse back to its owner. The old woman exulted overhow honorable he was and gave him his first ‘finders fee.’ Which turned out tobe more money than he could steal in a month.

- Lupin was intelligent, but he preferred practical studies tobook learning. (His teacher did make sure he knew how to read and write, etc.Even though he balked about it being boring.)

- He and his fellow urchins often made up their own gameswhich helped them with their thieving.

- Lupin usually had to sleep outdoors, so thefirst time he had a bed of his own he was so happy that he didn’t even want tomess the sheets up. … Of course, about twenty seconds later he jumped right onin and rolled the sheets around himself like a cocoon.

- Lupin was surprisingly nervous the first time he left France, though he would never admit it. He loved the adventure, of course, but there was something a little anxiety-inducing about taking those first steps.

VAN:

- Van was always a dutiful brother and son. His father passedaway when he was still quite young, so he felt it was his duty to care for hismother and little brother. They didn’t have a lot of money, so he learned tomake the things they needed and repair clothing and other things to extend their life. He became quite skilledat woodworking and made his mother a beautiful vase that she kept on herdresser that held three flowers, one for each of his family.

- Van and his brother always went berry picking in the summer.It was the brothers’s favorite time of year when their mothers would make themmagnificent pies. One time Van decided to make a pie for his family… withpredictable results. The mess in the kitchen was extraordinary, but his mothercouldn’t scold him because he tried so hard, and pretended to enjoy hiscreation. It may have been better for his future friends if she had told himthe truth.

-  Van was a smart, serious student. His favorite subject inschool was mathematics. He taught his little brother to read. 

- Vanwas always athletic and participated in many different sports.

- Would always help his mother with the sewing andclothing repair. He learned how to knit when he was eight years old, and becamequite skilled. His family could never leave the house in winter without ascarf. And gloves. And a hat. 

- He was always very open about how he doted over his family. He once had his heart on his sleeve….

FRAN:

- Fran grew up surrounded by beautiful natural wonders. Of ascientific bent since childhood, he found it soothing to walk in the woods andstudy nature. He could often be found reading in the shadow of his favoriterock, or collecting various specimens to study in his little attic laboratoryunder the eaves of his home. 

- Fran had a cute spaniel that always stayed at his side whenhe was a kid. They went on many adventures together. Fran even taught her tosniff out certain plants or other things to use in his experiments.

- Fran helped keep his parents’ gardens. He had his own littlepatch where he grew his own medicinal herbs. 

- Fran’s favorite subject was obviously science, especiallyalchemy and biology. He was equally good at all subjects and was recommended togo to college in the U.K.

- Knew he wanted to be a doctor for as long as hecould remember. He was the greatest teddy bear doctor in all of Switzerland,always performing regular check-ups. Of course, if someone came to him with adoll that needed repairs, he’d have to go to his mother… but he would alwayssupervise the procedure!

IMPEY:

- Impey was alone much of the time as a young child. He neverreally fit in with his peers and always dreamed of leaving his little villageand seeing what the world beyond held. Many vampires hated the cities, but Impeyknew that his future would lie in the cities beyond his claustrophobic littletown even before he saw the train. 

- Impey was an eager student once his imagination was ignited.The Old Man was delighted with how smart he was. He read voraciously once hehad the opportunity, though he found history boring. He hated stories about waror weapons, but he loved the romances. (He cried easily over tragedies.) 

- Impey’s first device was a telescope to look at the moon,made from a cardboard tube, a piece of glass and a broken mirror. He was veryexcited and proud of his creation. 

- Impey never had any sense of a bedtime, and often tinkeredand experimented with machines all night. The old man would often find himslumped over his work bench fast asleep. In that way, not much has changed.

- Impey didn’t change too much from when he was akid, so he would always be running on fumes. All too often, his old man wouldfind him passed out with a wrench in hand and grease stains on his cheeks. Heonly put a stop to it one time after Impey caught a bad cold. “That’ll teachyou to not get proper rest, now you have no choice.” (I think it’s cute we both had the same idea about Impey sleeping on his work bench - Mod Nautilus)

(Because there is so little information about Saint’s youth,this is longer and more… dramatized… than the others… – Mod Apostle)

SAINT:

- Saint doesn’t remember his childhood before he was a slave,erroneously believing he was born into slavery. The trauma of the sack of hisvillage made him block it from his memory. He was born in an ancient isolatedvillage in the eastern foothills of Mesopotamia. Its isolation meant that theever-changing political situations and the rise and fall of cultures passedthem by harmlessly, until an avalanche caused the king’s military to divertcourse and they raided the peaceful village. 

- Saint was a priestess’ son. He was a gentle, fragile child.His task was to read and memorize the holy books, study their rituals, andlearn from his mother how to lead their people. He was a dreamer who loved thestars, the quiet hills at night, and the sound of his mother’s voice singingthe sacred songs. 

- Despite being two years younger, his brother always lookedafter him. They played games, told stories, read every book in the village,especially the tales about a time when they lived in a city overlooking thesea. Neither of them had ever seen a body of water larger than small lakes andrivers. They had never even seen the great Euphrates or Tigris. They promisedeach other to go to the sea someday. To sail away and find their lost city andbecome kings. Saint said he would be the high priest and talk to the gods,while his brother could be king and govern the people. The village elder’sfortune said Saint would suffer much and travel far before he found hisdestiny, but then such things seemed incomprehensible to the children who builtstone forts for castles and tended their goats. 

- Later, after he forgot his past, he still sought out tabletsand and stories of the gods and sacred texts, never wondering how a slavelearned to read. Despite the differences in language, he was able to teachhimself the new alphabets and lettering. He kept a horde of discarded tabletsand broken styluses buried in a hole with his few belongings, including a stonenecklace given him by his only friend, the boy who he no longer recognized ashis brother. 

- Saint sang to himself at night sometimes when he could getaway with it. They soothed him and helped him to sleep. He still remembers thesongs, though the source is lost to him.

- In a life usually filled with misery, Sainttreasured every bit of ‘ordinary happiness’ he could find. Usually, this was inthe form of watching the sun rise. It was such a little thing, but he lovedwatching the light slowly paint the sky different colors. The sun looked like abig bright ball that he wanted to play with, but he was content just to feelits warmth.- Out of all his duties, Saint enjoyed fishing themost. He wasn’t able to do it often, but being near the water always made himfeel at peace. He enjoyed the fact that what he was doing allowed people to befed. He wanted to be a gracious host for many people from a very young age.

HANSEL (AND GRETEL):

- Hansel’s favorite memories are of the summers before the warstarted. His mother would bake cookies and make a picnic lunch and Hansel wouldtake Gretel on forest adventures. Hansel would gather wildflowers and makeflower crowns for Gretel and the siblings would splash around in the brook andlaugh and play until nightfall. 

- Gretel occasionally had trouble sleeping and would visit herbrother’s room. He would let her cuddle with him and told her fairytales untilshe fell asleep. 

- Hansel made friends with the deer of the forest and lovedtaking Gretel out to feed them sometimes.

- Hansel became Omnibus’ precious son, and she knew that treating him as such would tie himfurther to her. She taught him personally about the duties of Idea, somethingthat was usually reserved for a fellow Apostle. Saint would often joke withOmnibus about how he was being spoiled. 

- Omnibus would teach him in the garden, and he wouldoften occupy his hands by tending to her garden. It shone even brighterafter receiving attention from him, and afterwards Omnibus would reward hisobedience with a cookie shaped like a daisy. Those were always his favorites…

NEMO…?:

(FUN TRIVIA! According to Jules Verne, Captain Nemo’s birthname was Dakkar. Mod Nautilus has adopted this into her Code: Realizeheadcanons, so if you see the name “Dakkar” floating around—it’s pre-RevolutionNemo.)

- Dakkarwas a polyglot from a very young age. Languages always came easily to him,among them English, German, and French. (And back then he actually spoke… um…he didn’t sound like… HE DIIIIIDN’T TAAAAAAAAAALK LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIIS.)

- Dakkar had two little sisters that meant theabsolute world to him. Oftentimes, late at night, he would sneak out of hisquarters to spend time with them. Once he started getting caught, he would slippast by dressing up as a beautiful woman. As long as he kept his mouth shut,nobody noticed.

- … He was always very, very proud of being called “brotherdearest”.

- Dakkar was an accomplished pianist, but he much preferred playing the pipe organ, saying that it stimulated his mind more.

-  He was sixteen years old when he became a lead strategist in the uprising against Britain, though he participated in any way he could long before then. He has always been passionate about the things important to him, and the freedom of his country was the most important thing to him growing up.

*BONUS* SHOLMES:

- Herlock —er, Sherlock as he was known backthen—has an elder brother named Mycroft. Though Mycroft is just as much of agenius as his little brother, the two of them often clashed on a moreclandestine subject: housework. See, much like Sherlock, Mycroft was also arather deplorable housekeeper and they would often compete to see who could getout of the most chores. It became a game for them, one which Sherlockultimately won by devoting his time to a new hobby: the violin.

[summersoldier-616]

First Impressions

Chapter 00/Prologue

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

word count: ~3.000 words

warnings: swearing, talk about murder, alcoholism, drug abuse, angst, sulky reader and surely some grammatical mistakes or mistranslations :)

A/N: This is actually a kind of pilot for an actual series I am starting. I am indeed fairly new to writing fanfiction and espacially this little lovely bastard but hopefully I’ll do my fair share. So please enjoy and let me know what you think.

I also wanted to say that I am in no way an expert in forensics, biology or anything similar. All facts I use are either researched or fictitious. However, I try to come as near to the truth as possible.

You found yourself in a dark room devoid of any warmth or furniture, not even a window to determine the daytime. The only light source consisted in a naked bulb which hung still; the light beaming neiter bright nor large enough to illuminate the walls or ceiling as you made your way towards the dirty light source, the floor cracking underneath your feet as you neared.

Standing close enough to touch it, you carefully reached out for the lightbulb. Holding your breath for a second you finally gave it a spin to make the bulb turn around in circles in hope to see more of the foreign room. However, nothing new came into focus as you kept staring into empty space, the spinning light source making the atmosphere even more eerie than before.

As you were about to turn away, a blinding reflection appeared for a second making you halt in your movement. Seconds went by before the action recurred, this time revealing its location. When you took a step forward the sound of breaking glass rang out, making you direct your focus downwards in an attempt to decipher the new sensation.

Picking up a small, oblong object you stepped farther out of the light cone and recognized the item without much effort as a syringe, a dirty one at that. As soon as the term fell from your lips, a low grunt rang out which in return made you turn around. You screamed in horror as a shadowy frame hang underneath the lightbulb, desperately gasping for air while his limbs had been bound.

With shaky steps you closed in on the struggling being but as you reached out, about to touch his shoulder, you felt a hand on your own.

“Ma'am, excuse me“, a soft voice accompanied by a slight shake of your shoulder awoke you from your slumber. As you opened your eyes to find yourself in another foreign environment, in a confined seat surrounded by strangers and backrests, the friendly face of a young flight attendant came into your field of vision. “Ma'am, we're about to begin our final descent. Therefore I have to ask you to fasten your seat belt“, the stewardess repeated kindly.

With a short nod you quickly fiddled with the safety belt, your brain still slightly foggy from the nap and the corresponding dream. At the sound of the fastener clicking into place the young woman in costume gave you a quick smile and then continued her check down the aisle.

As you looked out of the small airplane window and saw nothing but grey clouds, you quietly scoffed; already missing the burning hot sun of Phoenix, Arizona. After graduating from the University of Arizona – the College of Medicine in Phoenix, to be quite exact – you had started to work for the Phoenix Police Department while still participating actively in the Department of Pathology at your former place of study.

However, the work with the PHXPD was not exactly as thrilling as you would have expected. Most of your 'patients' had died by some drug related crime or the drug itself wherefore the actual pathological examination proved to be less difficult than you had hoped. So when your dreaded 30th birthday rolled around and you came to the realisation that you were heading down an impasse, the decision to alter the current course wasn't that difficult.

And that's exactly how the now 32-year old you found herself on an airplane headed to England's capital with all important belonings stuffed into two large suitcases and the letter of resignation back home on your employer's desk. However rash that decision might have seemed and no matter your family's protests, till the moment you boarded the plane almost ten hours ago you didn't doubt your decision; feeling almost encouraged by the outcry you had caused.

With a sigh you teared your eyes away from the cloudy view and redirected your attention towards the slight mess you had created before falling asleep. As your departure was at quite short notice and you didn't like to leave unfinished buisness behind, you chose to take some unsolved cases with you, including a quite unsettling case, a young gang member's corpse being found drifting through the Gila River, which had occupied your mind just before your involuntary nap.

This may not seem out of the ordinary if it wasn't for the man to die from asphyxiation. And although throughout your examination you had found multiple indications for physical abuse, neither of those were from strangulation or the like which could have led to suffocation.

However, as you took another look at the forensic report everything seemed so painfully obvious. Quickly grabbing the toxicologic report you scanned the results for a certain data and as you finally found the object of desire you had to fight the urge to smite your forehead.

You emptied the rest of your overprized gin and tonic in one gulp before rapidly typing away on your laptop, determined to finish the covering letter before deboarding as you had just solved the case in your sleep – quiet literally.

“No, listen to me“, you audibly groaned on your way to the baggage claim, the mobile phone pressed to your  ear since you had stepped out of the airplane, “Bobby, if you'd just shut your mouth for a minute, I might not have to repeat every second sentence.“

You really weren't a short-tempered person, cross your heart, simply incredibly impatient. Since early days you had been irritated by the obvious inability of your fellows to follow your trains of thoughts, always feeling pressured to slow down which in return made you even more frustrated.

However, as time went by and you grew older you found a way to at least dial it down a notch in 'emergency situations'. The initial bad habit to sometimes drink one to many became a slight addiction to more often than not being at least a bit tipsy; numbing your brain to slow down your racing mind.

“Yes, I am well aware of the time difference but as criminals never rest, lawmen shouldn't either“, you reasoned while your destination came into view, the first suitcases and carpetbags already passing by on the baggage conveyer belt. As you heard light snorring instead of an answer you shouted loudly into the speaker, “I finally understand how they murdered him!“

As soon as the sentence had left your lips, you felt countless pairs of eyes on you; some passerby even stopped in their tracks to cut you a look. Looking around you mouthed an inaudible 'What?', forcing yourself to look more confident than you actually felt, and continued your way, hopeful to now have your collocutor's attention.

“I hope this is a good one“, Bob murmured while you heard rustling in the background, he was probably leaving the bed as to not disturb his wife. As he rambled on you arrived at the baggage carousel, standing between other passengers who had already found their luggage.

“Cry me a fucking river, Bob“, you taunted absentmindedly while scanning your surroundings, quickly growing impatient as you waited for your baggage. Looking to your left you saw a small child at the hand of her mother who shot you a deadly glare; probably for swearing within earshot of her offspring that was surely too busy watching items of luggage rolling by on the baggage conveyer belt to listen to some stranger's phone call.

“Do you remember how I had a hard time understanding how someone could die by suffocation with neither external influence nor pulmonary aspiration? And yet it is so painfully obvious that it must have been too easy for me to see. The drugs, Bobby, it's his addiction!“, you explained, earning a few more irritated side glances. “So what?“, Bob asked, his voice still laced with sleep and now additionally incomprehension, “The little junky took an overdose?“

“No, no, quiet the opposite actually. His body did not only show symptoms of regular drug use, which doesn't come as a surprise considering his presumable addiction, but they also found evidence for recent drug withdrawal. That was the missing piece, Bobby, don't you understand?!“, you asked excitedly. Your question was answered by a short peroid of silence, followed by a deep-drawn sigh and a muttered, “Do me the favour and just tell me.“

If it hadn't been for the importance of the current phone conversation, you would have ended the call at this point. Explaining an officer how the cause of death was brought about was basically solving the case for him. However, as your luggage seemed to be long in coming you chose to elaborate.

“Okay, listen and listen closely. The victim showed signs of physical abuse in form of possible captivation which means that he quiet surely wasn't able to satisfy his cravings and therefore went through an involuntary withdrawal. This 'shock theraphy' probably resulted in a seizure which thereupon led to the asphyxiation and due to the lack of medical intervention his death.

I just gave the results from the toxicology a once over and all indications are that his serotonin as well as the noradrenaline level must have been extremely low which would complement my assumption about the deprivation and considering his physical condition I am confident that my presumption concerning the captivity will turn out to be true as well.

I already sent an email to my replacement in the pathology department to run another test on the victim concerning his external injuries and as soon as I arrive at the hotel I'll send you my report on the current data which I worked with. If you'll excuse me now, I still have a busy schedule ahead of me and there are only so many hours in the day.“

Without awaiting an answer you ended the call and with a smile on your face put the phone in your jeans' backpocket. However, as you realised that the conveyer belt had come to a halt without a trace of your luggage your facial features derailed. Spinning on your heel you quickly made your way to the next information while holding your handbag close in a futile attempt to slow your racing thoughts and heart.

You stared wide eyed at the middle-aged woman sitting behind the counter, wearing a sympathetic look on her face. “I am truly sorry, Miss, but it seems like your luggage wasn't on the plane. Our personnel could not find it either in the cargo area or somewhere on the way to the baggage claim“, she explained once more.

“But that is impossible“, you choked out, “All my belonings, clothes were in those two suitcases and you are telling me that you lost them? How is that even possible?“ Just as the woman was about to answer your rhethorical question, the ringing of her phone stopped her before you could, saving her from further embarrasment. While she concentrated her attention on the computer, typing away on the console, you had time to check your phone, only to realise that you had already wasted two precious hours in this maze called airport.

“Thank you, I'll inform her immediately“, the female sighed into the telephone before hanging up. Before she even managed to address you, you stood at the desk and asked hopefully, “So, you did find them? Oh, thank god. I wouldn't have known what to do without them. Where exactly can I pick-“ -  “Miss, we indeed did find your luggage. However, I must inform you that your suitcases are currently in Madrid.“ The last part was a slightly whispered answer, followed by an unsettling long pause.

“I do not expect that you have by any chance a town called Madrid in England?“, you muttered tiredly although the question sounded more like a half hearted joke which the staff member answered with a shake of her head. Suddenly you felt exhausted, tired and absolutely fed up with the whole situation. Massaging the bridge of your nose, you chose to end this conversation as quickly as possible; not like it was leading anywhere wherefore you quietly asked, “How long?“

After a quick look into her computer she informed you that it should take about three days, maximum five. At this point you just accepted your fate silently, leaving behind your phone number and e-mail address if by a fluke your luggage would arrive any sooner. The woman apologized again profoundly before releasing you by wishing you – quite ironically – a 'good day'.

On your way out, you made a quick stop at one of the airports' outpriced shops to buy some necessities. The cashier, probably a student who needed to make money on the side, shot a scornful glance at you as he scanned your purchase consisting of a fresh-perked coffee and a bottle of whiskey.

While the young man put away the cash you opened the bought liquor, opened the lid of your steaming coffee and poured some of the spirit into your caffeinated drink. As you took a sip and tasted the delightful flavor on your tongue a content sigh fell from your lips; answered by a quiet snicker from the male student.

“Listen, kid“, you warned the boy while you stored the liquor away in your purse – your only luggage at the given moment. With a quick once-over you knew that the male behind the counter had it coming; glazed over eyes due to increased production of lachrymal fluid, chapped lips and lastly a light swelling of the lymph node meant that the poor boy would be laid low with a pretty nasty flue in a few days.

A dry chuckle escaped your lips before you rummaged through your handbag, all the while lecturing, “First of, if you haven't heared of Irish Coffee, then you should probably rethink your attitude to life. Secondly, you have no idea how shitty this day has been so far.“ As you finally found what you were looking for, you tossed the item in his direction while adding with a frosty smile, “And lastly, my bad habits surely shouldn't be your greatest concern.“

Whit that you took your coffee and left the store behind with the boy looking back and forth between your departing form and the package of tissues.

You couldn't help the content sigh that fell from your lips as you finally breathed fresh air; and although it was slightly drizzling by now, the cooling effect was more than welcome as you were practically fuming with rage at this point. As you dragged your feet towards the street to hail down a taxi, your rational side managed to regain the upper hand after being too emotional for the last two hours.

Straightening your back and raking your fingers through your hair to look the least bit presentable, you whistled with your fingers to catch some taxidrivers attention. With a small smile adorning your lips as seconds later a taxi stopped you walked towards to vehicle; only to be outrun by two men, the smaller one opening the door while the taller man tipped away on his mobile phone, mumbling to himself.

“Excuse me“, you shrieked furiously, admittedly louder than you intended to but as the one holding the car door open focused his attention on you, it obviously had served the purpose. With a smile that didn't reach your eyes and a bitter sweet voice that dripped with venom you purred: “I believe that is my cab.“

While the blonde one quickly let go of the car door, wearing a guilty expression mixed with a tinge of embarrasment, his friend didn't seem to mind the inconvenience as he began to step into the taxi, not even bothering to spare you a glance. With a quick movement you banged your fist on the car roof which in return made the man stop in his tracks. “I think you failed to hear, sir“, you repeated sibilantly, “This happens to be my cab.“

As you looked angrily at the male he scanned you blatantly, only for his expression to grow even colder as he retorted monotone, “You are already late so I don't see the necessity for your rush.“ Shocked not only by his straightforwardness but the veracity of his claim as well, you failed to come up with incisive answer, only hissing a half-hearted 'You don't know the last thing about me'. Misinterpreting the retort as a challenge the dark haired man turned around, beginning to slowly stroll around all the while ignoring his friend's attempts to stop him.

“Early thirties which would explain your decision for a significant life change like – in your case – leaving Arizona; an age in which the average person decides to conduct a sort of 'life audit' to assess meaningfulness and satisfaction. The farewell must have been quiet tearful considering the residue of lachrymal fluid on your shoulder; your mother must weep easily, doesn't she?

However, considering the evident lack of luggage you either a) had it collected or b) the airline must have made a mistake which is much more likely due to your tense posture and the alcohol you mixed in your coffee; don't you think ten o'clock in the morning is a bit early to drink?

Which overall brings me to my original assessment of your lateness. After all, as an arrival you surely had an appointment for the key delivery which you must have missed by now. Therefore, it shouldn't be to much of a hastle to wait for the next vehicle and leave this taxi to us.“ His deduction concluded with a fatigued sigh from his companion.

You were taken aback. It was neither do to his perceptions and following conclusions being spot-on nor because of the obviousness he stated those facts with but the simple aspect of meeting someone who was able to talk even more than you made you speechless. As you made eye contact with the other man he gave you a compassionate smile, implying that his friend's remarks weren't anything out of the ordinary. But no matter the impressive demonstration, you weren't about to loose this fairly one-sided verbal exchange.

“Impressive“, you cooed, trying to keep your composure which proofed to be a difficult task, “Right down to the last detail, except for one minor exception.“ At these words the dark haired man stopped in his tracks, keeping his back turned to you. You couldn't fight down the smug smile that overtook your features – admittedly, you didn't try to either – as you heared his deep voice asking: “And what would that be?“

You shot his companion a knowing look and although you weren't quite sure why, his features held the same smug look present on your face as he let go of the door, stepping back onto the pavement. Stepping inside the car, you calmly answered, “That this is my cab.“ With that you shut the door while the dark haired man turned around, an unreadable expression on his face as the car drove off with the two men standing at the roadside and you sitting inside the taxi.

“Whereto, Miss?“, the taxidriver asked, a slight tinge of petulance evident in his voice. As you turned around, looking through the rear window to see the tall man standing in the same position as you had left him while his friend hailed down another cab, you answered with a smile on your face, “236 Baker Street, please.“

[sansy-fresh]

Moral Compass chap. 9

good times......and bad times

tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humans are Assholes

ao3 link

It took another few days to integrate every extra piece Slim had brought over, fixing up all the wiring and soldering on the final pieces of metal to cover it all. Red had been the one to actually put most of it together, Slim helping him hold things down and finish up the wiring in the displays. Razz helped by staying out of the way and keeping the both of them fed, occasionally bringing them down a cup of coffee in light of the fact that neither of them would listen if he tried to get them to sleep any length of time.

He was downstairs, standing behind the two of them as Slim checked some final piece they were to add before turning the damned thing on for the first time. Red sat, pensive as he stared hard at the piece of machinery in Slim’s hand, wires sticking out seemingly in random directions, though as soon as he turned and fit it into the slot it was supposed to go in, they all disappeared without issue. Razz held his breath as Red turned to the machine, standing to his feet as a look of determined anger settled in his eyes.

Flicking a few switches, Red’s hands moved swiftly over the various levers and buttons, all prepping the machine for him to finally hit the large red button that would, in theory, turn it on. He paused, claw tips hovering over the button before looking back to Slim, then Razz. The two of them nodded, promising wordless that whatever happened, he’d have their support. Moving his gaze back to the machine, Red took a deep breath, held it. Then pressed the button.

There was a whir of parts, a deep hum that filled the room and made their bones rattle with the frequency. Then, one by one, the lights began to shine with color, each flashing a bit before holding steady in hues of red and green and yellow. Then, finally, the small readout began reading a steady stream of incomprehensible letters and numbers but that didn’t matter to Razz. What mattered was the explosive breath of air that left Red, his sockets filling with unspent tears as he stared down at the readout.

“Its.. lookin’ for anomalies. Like it was supposed ta. I jus’ gotta recalibrate it fer alternate sources and-” at this Red started messing with the keypad to the readout, Slim joining him in the sciencey technobabble they were so fond of using. Razz stepped back, leaning against the wall as they worked, a sort of relief heady in his soul.

The machine was working. They could get to other connected universes, they could find the code for Red’s home universe, and they could travel there.

It took another twenty minutes for Red to remember the correct sequence of letters and numbers that made up his own universe, and another ten for the machine, clearly unused to being used for interdimensional sequencing, to show the little readout sentence of “Universe found! Scanning for possible entry points…” Red stepped back, hands at his sides as he laughed, the sound nearly broken.

“It’s there. It’s still there. He’s…” Shaking his head, Red moved back from the machine and headed upstairs, Slim following along behind him easily. Razz gave one more glance to the machine before following, his boots thudding on each step.

“I’m gonna head ta the bar, we deserve a drink ‘er two fer this shit.” Red exclaimed as they all piled into the living room, grabbing his jacket off the couch and slipping both arms in before turning to the two of them. “Yer… don’t have ta come wit’ me. Can if ya wanna, though.”

Slim shrugged, though Razz could see his brother’s eagerness to get an actual drink for once, as well as some sweets if they were available. Shaking his head, Razz slipped on his own leather jacket.

“Like we’d leave you on your own, dumbass. Are you taking us there, or?”

Red chuckled, leaning forward to put one hand on Slim’s jacket, the other on Razz’s shoulder. He winked, “Just take a ride on the crimson express.”

Before he could react they were through the void and in the alley behind the bar Red had taken him to that first day. Brushing himself off, Razz lead the way out of the alley, Red and Slim hot on his heels as they moved out onto the sidewalk and to the front door of the bar. The smell of grease and booze was strong, Razz ignoring the way his brother’s nose crinkled in disgust as he scoped out a booth for the three of them.

Red headed for the front, ordering them all drinks and a few appetizers that Razz was certain would be dripping with mustard when he was through with dressing them up. He and Slim sat at a booth towards the back corner, away from curious humans and the few monsters that sat on the opposite side.

Soon the three of them had piles of food and glasses full of drinks, eyelights blurring ever so slightly the longer they drank, the longer they talked. Their words were filled with tentative hope, quietly planning what they would do when walking through that portal. There were so many different things to expect, heading back into a fellverse, and being from what they termed a “swapped fellverse” meant that things were even more different than Razz or Slim would be able to expect.

It was late when they finally went home, paying for their meal and drinks with the last gold coins Red had on him. For once, it was peaceful as they went their separate ways, no more tense thoughts to keep them from smiling to each other as they parted. Slim to the couch, Razz to his guest bed, and Red to the trashed up bedroom he barely slept in.

In the end, it was the screaming that woke the three of them, Razz running to the living room to find the walls licked with flames, Slim pulling him back as Red rushed to the machine. In the end, the peace was gone, replaced with the angry yelling of strangers. In the end… none of it mattered.

[sol1056]

S7 data cronch pt2: get the hot dogs, the fandom’s on fire

Before I jump into the more tangled datasets, there’s something interesting I want to call out, and that’s the vlogs. 

In September of last year, DW released vlogs for Coran, Keith, and Allura. A month later, we got vlogs for Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. Shiro’s vlog finally arrived on June, this year. That final vlog now shows a July date, but when it was first discovered, its posting date was 6/28. (I have no idea why it was changed. Ask @ptw30.) 

In the first part, I mentioned audience engagement. The vlogs are a good object lesson. If we take the number of views divided by the number of days since posting, we get an idea of the daily ‘value’ of each vlog. 

Shiro clocks in at 6877 views per day, while the next closest, Keith, has 4796 per day. Hey, so maybe that’s just everyone excited after waiting almost a year. 

So, how about this graph?

Shiro has 4,293 comments. The next closest are Allura and Hunk, with 692 and 976, respectively. All told, Shiro got 1.5 times as many comments as all the rest of the characters together. Now that is audience engagement. 

Alright, now that you’ve got a bit of data on which character clearly gets the fandom engaged and talking, let’s see what else we can learn about S7. 

Hop to, behind the cut. 

so about that twitter debacle

There’s no way to fully illustrate just how incomprehensibly bonkers twitter was for awhile. I know there’s a toxic side to the fandom that weaponizes twitter, but... in general, the VLD fandom isn’t noisy, compared to other fandoms. Daily counts range from 30-100 tweets. That makes it harder to tell when things go dead quiet, but it sure makes it easy to tell when things explode. 

So let’s go back to the Sunday after S7 landed. For this season, I included sentiment analysis. At first I searched on #voltron, then I realized one of the trackers lets me go by keywords, so I did a comparative search on ‘voltron’. Hashtag use seemed to be for being seen by others, while keyword seemed to be more for conversation, reassurance, and reflection.  

That’s... pretty strong, for both. And I honestly had never seen a twitter stream get a sentiment analysis as negative as the one on the right. After working my way through 11,889 tweets (from Aug 10th to the 25th), I can tell you one thing for certain.

Everyone was angry about something. 

One group, predictably, was angry at being denied their long-awaited affirmation. A second was furious at the queerbaiting; that group overlapped with a third enraged at the Bury Your Gays trope. A fourth dismissed the BYG trope yet were angry at the lack of explicit relationship beyond a single break-up scene; that caused a few flare-ups between the 3rd and 4th groups for the latter treating Shiro as queer purely on his facebook status. A fifth group (oddly, calmer voices, for the most part) was upset at VLD’s treatment of Shiro in general, from his isolation to his tokenization. 

On the other end of the spectrum, the majority of positives loved the season but were angry that others didn’t or wouldn’t. A much smaller percentage took their own shots: insisting children don’t need LGBT+ rep, calling LGBT+ fans entitled, telling DW not to pander, or complaining DW/Netflix had mixed politics and entertainment. (There’s an answer to the last one, but that’s for another post.)

I believe the technical term for Aug 10th-25th would be clusterfuck. 

going deeper for context

Getting a clearer picture than the donut chart meant considering the context. In other words, for every seemingly-neutral tweet, I’d open the feed, and majority of the time I found threads voicing bitter disappointment, frustration, and hurt. These deeper threads almost never tagged anyone, and they tended to be more nuanced, compared to upper-level mentions loaded with easily-classed negative or positive keywords.

Here’s a snapshot of the twitter stream on August 10th, which includes metrics for those deeper contextual threads.

There’s just no way to spin that much of a backlash. By the end of the first day of release, the signs were already there that --- at least as far as the majority of the internet-based fandom was concerned --- S7 was an unmitigated disaster.  

it’s just twitter, no one’s paying attention

That sounds like something a Boomer-aged exec might say. They’d also be wrong (not to mention ignorant).  

Note: I used two different analysis apps. Both were rather blunt-force, rating “S7 wasn’t half bad” or “brutal but what I wanted” as negative, while "go to hell, I loved VLD but not anymore" was rated positive. One of the two apps let me re-evaluate, but it only allowed for negative-neutral-positive. (Lesson learned: set up a twitter scrape ahead of time, so I can run it all against a good AI.) 

For this part, I used the second tracker and manually evaluated the values for ‘voltron’ mentions. Unfortunately, I had to rely on the tracker’s value for most non-English tweets. I designated ‘positive’ for explicitly pro-S7, and ‘negative’ explicitly con-S7. For any mentions that were ambiguous, incoherent, or personally-directed, I defaulted to neutral. My goal was to measure who was or wasn’t happy with the season itself, and not attacks on or support for the staff, DW, Netflix, or other people in the fandom. 

With that madness done, here’s the entirety of August.   

On the day of release, a total of 1853 mentions created a social media reach of 1.46 million. My next question was: is this low-influencer unhappiness vs high-influencer happiness, vice versa, or something else? This next chart is the data filtered down to influencers with a score of 7 or above (based on followers, retweets, and replies). 

That’s 78 negative mentions, 16 positive, and the remainder neutral. All told, 194 mentions had a social media reach of 1.36 million. That’s a lot considering the voltron keyword usually has a social media reach of 50K, tops.

This was a groundswell reaction. The reach was driven by big voices, but the bulk were individuals unhappy for any of a variety of reasons. Any apology --- after four days of fever pitch --- was going to have an uphill fight to calm the crowd, no matter how gracefully it was written.

On the 14th -- when news outlets began reacting to JDS’ apology -- we got a second spike. 1573 mentions with a social media reach of 1.3 million; the new megaphones in the stream were news outlets promoting articles. (Also, most of their tweets are strongly click-bait in tone, compared to the actual article titles.) 

If you googled ‘voltron legendary defender’ on the 14th, you got these results: 

Voltron Showrunner Apologizes to Fans Following Outrage over Gay Character’s Storyline [Syfy Wire]

Voltron Showrunner Pens Open Apology Letter [The Mary Sue]

Voltron Showrunner Apologizes for Series' Handling of Gay Relationship {CBR}

Voltron's Complicated, Imperfect LGBQT Representation Is Tearing the Fandom Apart [In-Depth-Gizmodo]

Joaquim Dos Santos Shares Letter About Voltron Queer Representation [The Geekiary]

The ‘Voltron’ Showrunner Apologized For Making a Mess of the Show’s Gay Representation [Hornet]

Of course, Josh Keaton got sent out to calm the anger, too. 

'Voltron' Star Josh Keaton On Season 7, Shiro's Sexuality, and How a Leader Grieves [Comicbook.com]

Shiro Voice Actor Responds to 'Voltron' Season 7 Controversy [Inverse]

Exclusive: Josh Keaton talks 'Voltron' season 7, Shiro's new arc, love and loss [Hypable]

You had to scroll past all that before you could get to anything remotely like a positive news item (and nowhere near the usual post-release deluge of compliments to the creators). 

On Aug 15th, more articles: 

Voltron: Legendary Defender’s Showrunner Offers a Genuine Apology to the Fandom [Gizmodo]

Voltron's Complicated, Imperfect LGBQT Representation Is Tearing The Fandom Apart [Kotaku Australia] (reprint)

Either these were latecomers, or DW was pulling out all the stops to hit every possible venue. Didn’t matter; the furor wasn’t dying down. Josh wasn’t sent out again, either. DW may’ve realized that ship had sailed (so to speak). 

On Aug 16th, these articles appeared: 

Voltron creator addresses fans over season 7's queerbaiting controversy [Polygon]

How “Voltron: Legendary Defender” Queerbaited Its Fans [NewNowNext]

Voltron showrunner apologises to fans after backlash over treatment of gay character [DigitalSpy]

Voltron: Legendary Defender showrunner apologises to fans after killing off gay character [PinkNews]

Why 'Voltron' fans are furious after season 7 [The Daily Dot]

Voltron Showrunner Apologizes for Season 7's Treatment of Gay Couple [ScreenRant]

'Voltron' Shiro: Stop Preemptively Outing Gay Characters To Generate Buzz [Inverse]

And it kept going through Aug 17, 2018.

Voltron: Legendary Defender Showrunner Joaquim Dos Santos Apologizes For Alleged Queer-bating Of Fans Over Handling Of Shiro’s Sexual Orientation [Inside Pulse]

Who's Sorry This Week? Lindsay Lohan, Sarah Huckabee Sanders and other public apologies [Mic]

Meanwhile, as of the 18th, the predictive algorithm for #voltron (the actual hashtag) was estimating +6% for the upcoming week, and +6% for the month. Not even half what S6 had in its first week after broadcast, but remember, the majority of S7′s traffic wasn’t happening on the hashtag. It was happening in mentions. 

You might think from the above that things quieted by the 19th. You’d be wrong. It’s still going on. Keep in mind these pie charts are cumulative by month. On the left are the totals through the morning of Aug 22; on the right, the totals through the afternoon of Aug 25.

Midday on the 22nd, we had another spike, one large enough to offset that these are monthly totals, not daily. (The most likely culprit is the DW marketing gif that showed the scene where Adam dies, thus kicking the hornet’s nest all over again.)

As we entered the third week, the predictive algorithm for #voltron dropped to -1% for the month, and -5% for the week; for #vld, it’s -2% for the month and -6% for the week. 

In fact, almost every related hashtag is predicted to drop in popularity and use over the next week or beyond. That includes: 

voltronlegendarydefender, -2%

keithkogane, -8%

keith, -3%

shiro, -9%

lance, -6%

lancemcclain, -1%

takashishirogane, -20%

allura, -5%

princessallura, -10%

hunkgarrett, -6%

lotor, -4%

katieholt, -5%

Even ship names: 

klance, -2%

shadam, -8%

adashi, -3%

plance, -2%

pidgance, -5%

sheith, -2%

lotura, -10%

kallura, -1%

The exceptions? allurance (4%) and pidge (1%). 

It took a bombshell EP interview to knock S6 off its upward rise. This time around, the fall looks more like people tiring of the fight and checking out.

one more part coming

Thanks to the additional manipulations I did on twitter this season, this section took more words (and I cut it down from walking you through every agonizing step, no need to thank me for sparing you). I’ve also added a new dataset, and that pushed the total word count beyond even my long limit.

I’ve broken the last part out, where i’ll cover the long-term impact and possible fallout of S7.  

[the-amazing-spider-bi]

🎄🌟the mandatory Christmas fic 🌟🎄 background stony, iron dad I 4k 🎄 ao3

Steve sighs. "Tony, last time we celebrated Christmas together, it was 2015, Natasha was still bleeding from her last mission and we ordered a literal mountain of Chinese takeout to eat in front of the TV. And you said Christmas was a capitalistic, un-rock’n’roll, garbage holiday you had no intention to partake in and Natasha said sure, Mr. Trump and you said how dare you insult me like this, I’m kicking you out right now. Then you threw spring rolls at her.”

Tony shrugs. "Well, things change, Captain, roll in with the punches."

Read on ao3 in its entirety, the next part, or part 1/4 under the cut!

“Attention, Avengers! And Loki. I have a statement to make,” Tony bellows, entirely clad in his Iron Man costume except for his face.

Steve looks up at him lazily from where he is sitting on an armrest trying to make himself as small as possible for Sam to sit, which is ridiculous when he is made of about six feet of abs and triceps and deltoids and other weird muscles.

In the other armchair, Bruce and Thor as ostensibly Not Cuddling, because they are, of course, Not Dating, Valkyrie, sitting by their side with a suspicious-smelling Thermos, stares in adoration at Natasha, who is splayed on the couch sharpening a knife in a vaguely threatening way for no real reason.

At her side, feet kicked up on her thighs, Clint is reading a trashy gossip magazine and obviously doesn’t have his hearing aids on. In splashy red letters, the journalist, who probably went to Harvard for this, speculates about DAD BOD OR HOT MESS: IRON MAN’S LOSE BOOZE DAY TAKING THEIR TOLLS? on top of a blurry picture of Tony getting out of the suit. When Rhodey came into the room and saw it, he cracked up laughing and pulled out his phone to take a picture to send Pepper, Carol, his mother and the entirety of his contacts.

On the other side of Clint, Pietro is talking in hushed tones to Wanda, a conversation filled with foreign words and dramatic hand gestures. Vision is doing this weird thing where he closes his eyes and floats and might be taking a nap or just reviewing a very interesting book on Goodreads.com. Loki is stuck by their side looking bored and playing with a StarkPhone with disinterest because, as Thor said, he needed to socialize with people his age.

(“Wait, isn’t he like a hundred years old?” Steve had asked.

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Thor had said.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“He’s a thousand and fifty-three years old. What do you think he is, a toddler? Pffft.”

Steve had started to frown and open his mouth in incomprehension,  but behind Thor’s shoulder, Bruce had very silently yet very energetically shook his head and mouthed no. The subject had not been addressed again. From what Steve understood, he was sort of the Asgardian equivalent of a high schooler who ran around town using the jewelry he stole from his mother to buy a fake ID to get into the local gay bar. Except their version involved a lot more stabbing.)

None of them takes notice of Tony’s announcement, except T’Challa, standing up rigidly on the giant TV screen.

“Yes, this is in fact what we expected when you summoned an official Avengers meeting,” T’Challa says.

“At four in the fucking morning,” Bucky Barnes mutters, face flickering on the screen by his side.

“What, is it four in the morning in Wakanda? Oh no, silly me, I must have forgotten,” Tony says. Barnes narrows his eyes at him. “Anyway, if I could have everyone’s attention? Romanoff, please tell Clint I literally made these hearing aids and he is being an ungrateful brat.”

Natasha sighs, puts down the knife, and pushes Clint off the couch.

He flails for a second. “Not cool, Tasha!” he yelps. She shrugs him off. He pouts and says, “Pietro, avenge me!”

Pietro looks at him directly in the eyes as he high fives Natasha.

“Anyway,” Tony says. “Guys, if you don’t mind, there is this little thing called an emergency going on.”

“There’s always an emergency going on,” Clint mutters, having just gotten his hearing aids back.

“Yes, alright, the world sucks, we live on a garbage planet ready to explode any moment and our president is an orange toupeed buffoon, we know that, Clint but this is more important. In fact, I would even go as far as saying this is the most important emergency any of us has ever faced.”

Thor stops staring at Bruce with moony eyes and asks, “Is it Thanos? Did the contingency plan we put in place to welcome him fail us?”

“What? No!” Tony says.

“Do we have another hidden sibling Father forgot to tell us about?” Loki inquires, sounding bored.

“Loki’s evil again?” Clint contributes, earning himself nasty glances from both Odinsson brothers.

“Hydra?” Bucky asks.

“Red Skrull somehow got out of this weird purple planet thing?” Steve asks.

“A white American did something stupid that will get tons of people killed?” T’Challa sighs.

“I second that one, actually,” Wanda says.

“It is indeed,” Vision says, “statistically much likelier that a white American male is once again the cause of our troubles.”

“You’re all wrong and also morons,” Tony says. “Well, actually, I guess it is all about a white American. God, we really are the worst, aren’t we? I didn’t ask for your confirmation,” he adds when Rhodey, Natasha, the Maximoffs, T’Challa, Sam and Steve start nodding. “No, this is much more important than all of that garbage.”

He pauses again to let a dramatic silence stand. Of course, considering he is standing on a box in the middle of their living room, the effect is significantly ruined.

“What,” Valkyrie cuts.

“I have just been informed,” Tony says, “that Christmas is in four days, and we need to organize a party from scratch. Pepper, who is the light of my life and by far the stronger Avenger out of any of us, just so you know, is on holidays, so I can’t call her. Well, actually, I tried to call her, but she just laughed for five minutes and then hung up on me. Being on a cruise has made her very rude if you ask me.”

All of the Avengers stare at him for the longest of time before they all collectively get up and start leaving. Tony’s protests are ignored. Strange is disconnected from the conference call as he tells Stark to never call him ever again. T’Challa, who is a scholar and a gentleman, waits until Bucky is done cursing the Stark generation in Russian, Romanian, German, and about twenty other languages to follow suit.

“I dunno about these other guys but I’m in,” Peter Quill says.

“I literally do not know who you are,” Tony says. “How did you even get that number?”

“See you in four days!”

“No no no I didn’t mean- he hung up on me too, didn’t he. That’s just great.”

[evolutionsvoid]

As one would expect for beings that are living embodiment of chaos, the language within the Courts of Chaos is completely incomprehensible. Their writing seems to include every letter, number and symbol that has ever existed and then it is all thrown into a blender and slung across the room. While it is tough enough trying to decipher such gibberish, one has to also deal with the fact that grammar and sentence structure is something they don't believe in either. With the sheer mess that is found in their papers, scrolls and napkin pieces, some have turned to their language for help. Perhaps their spoken tongue may be easier to understand, which they quickly found was not the case. The Chaos seem to speak in very guttural, primitive sounds, which is mixed with electronic warbling and a bunch of other odd noises. Some have described it as "if cartoon cavemen had somehow evolved their language to the complexity found in modern day, but still kept with the grunting and hooting." Recordings that have been collected from their realm sound like pure gibberish, but certain patterns have been found that suggest that this is not total nonsense. During trials, when things are getting interesting or exciting, the crowd of Chaos seem to let out some kind of cheer or chant. In written form, the best replication of this sound comes out as "Itchy ooo yah." The best people can guess is that it is a phrase that shows excitement or eagerness for coming bloodshed. What they are saying exactly is currently impossible to understand. With the sheer butchery that is their spoken tongue, many researchers gave up hope on figuring out the ways of Chaos. That was, until, a shocking discovery rocked the worlds. A chance for understanding the Chaos suddenly reared its head, as someone came upon the most crucial knowledge: The Courts of Chaos had interpreters. Originally believed to be just normal Chaos that sat around in the courtrooms, further research and investigations discovered that this specific being was meant to serve as an interpreter. The machinery and organs that cover its body give it a wide range of communication skills, which can be used to transfer information from one organism to the next. The long line of eyeballs are capable of creating pupils that can form into any shape or letter, allowing it to present words and phrases in written form. Its many tongues allow it to master any language, no matter how alien or impossible it may seem. And to even those who cannot hear, the interpreters appear to be armed with strange hands that can perform sign language and other signing forms of communication. Placed in the court rooms during trials, the interpreters are tasked with conveying information from the performing Chaos to the accused alien parties. This discovery blew the hats off many researchers, as it was at last a chance to finally crack their language. By focusing on these interpreters, they could truly understand the Chaos and learn how their entire realm even worked. Such a thing would rock the entire universe, and could change the way reality worked from here on out. That's how it was supposed to go, but that relies solely on any of these interpreters doing their goddamn job. Much to the dismay of the universe, it appears that absolutely none of these interpreting Chaos take their job seriously. Though possessing all the tools to master language and communication, they seem to have zero interest in actually doing such a thing. Observations during trials have found these interpreters sleeping at their desks, making paper airplanes, staring at walls, banging their heads against random objects, and in one case, screaming some primordial mixture of Chinese and Latin before flinging themselves into the audience to start an all-out fist fight. They absolutely refuse to take part in their actual role, even when the court turns their attention to them. At times when the accused looks to the interpreter for aid or clarification, the interpreter seems to conveniently find something else to look at, while nervously whistling some kind of tune. On the rare occasion that signing has been observed and recorded, weeks of research and interpretation came to the conclusion that it "had no clue what it was doing." This has given rise to the disappointing theory that perhaps the Chaos that are assigned to being interpreters do not actually know how to do such a thing, and refuse to actually admit it. Not that the Chaos would care.... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More Chaos, and ones that are modeled after the most advanced communication device to ensure that they are suited for the job! And I still have no clue how to color these guys!