#pp looks as stunning as ever of course!

[schizo2709]

#4QueensConcert

231007

sources 1 + 2 + 3

[hinasakuino]

Boyfriend Material

  Ft. J. Kirstein, A.Arlet, L. Ackerman,  E.Yeager, R.Braun, E. Smith

Lemme just preface this by saying I am so excited to start dabbling in other fandoms + writing. I have a silly demon slayer au I’m writing plus Levi 100 followers celebratory fic! So without further ado, enjoy! (Sfw & nsfw h/c about my fave boys! Modern au btw!) ((pps it’s kinda long bare w/me pls))

  Jean Kirstein

  (sfw)

 Jean would be the guy you see every day on your way to class always sitting alone either reading by himself or people watching or on the rare occasion he had a friend with him.

He’s clueless about you changing your course to class just to have a chance to speak with him but he does think it’s odd when you keep asking him questions, he can see your college ID you’ve been going to the school for three years now and all your classes were near each other, how did you keep forgetting your way to class?

He finally understands you’re trying to get his attention when he spots you and some friends hanging out in the cafeteria. Your friends teased you while you blushed. He decided the courtyard was too hot today and was seeking the crisp chill provided by the air conditioners. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he thought it was funny you went through all the trouble just to impress him. He thinks it was sweet.

Will now attempt casual conversation, but discovers he’s just as awkward as you were. 

Finally got the courage to ask you out after witnessing you interacting with a classmate, he thought you were pretty before but you were especially stunning when sporting such a beautiful smile. 

Decides on the classic dinner and movie idea but takes you to see the movie first so that y’all can have something to discuss while you eat. 

Thinks you’ll pick the romcom is shocked when you choose the classic slasher remake movie, side-eyes you nearly the entire movie for being completely enamored with the movie.

Dinner is interesting he learns you’re majoring in film and arts,  feels extra confident after coming up with the 

Movie date idea.

(nsfw)

Tries to leave you with just one kiss but the way you cling to him makes him painfully hard and he debates on leaving because he doesn't want to pressure you into something you’re not comfortable doing

But the way you lick the shell of his ear and grind with his front, he’s pinning you against the wall, nipping at your neck, making you mewl loudly against his ear and he can’t wait to elicit more noises from you. 

Thank the lord you have a private dorm to yourself because he’s taking your top off the minute you’re pushed into the living room. It doesn't take him long to take your skirt off, there you lay clad in a mauve lingerie set, you try your best to come across as sexy and not shy. 

“Fuck you’re so sexy.” He whispers, he’s on his knees in an instant, kissing across your thighs, and he can hear your breath hitching the closer he gets to your glistening cunt. 

“Please” You moan out, and how can he deny you when you asked so nicely?

Is a tease, will take his time when going down on you, always pressing soft kisses and licks to your center until you’re whimpering and begging for release. 

This man loves pleasing you. He really likes to hear you moan his name, the soft pants and whimpers make him harder than ever. 

By the time he’s ready to slip past your wet walls, he’s nearly there. 

You’re so tight, your walls conform around him, and it doesn’t take him long to cum deep inside your cunt. 

Apologizes when he realized he didn’t pull out, he was too pussy drunk, riding out that high. 

Doesn’t leave right after because you look absolutely fucked out and adorable as you try to stay up listening to his rambling. 

He’s hooked and not ashamed to say so. 

Armin Arlet

  (Sfw)

vvv self indulgent I love him!

  He’s so sweet, bless his heart! 

You’ve known him since primary school, you hadn’t actually talked to him until he approached you at a kickback. 

It was completely unexpected because you always knew him to be shy but here he was standing across from you making you laugh and you’re pleasantly surprised when you realize you have so much in common. 

You give him your number in hopes of hanging out with him more but it’s silent for the first two days. 

Truthfully Armin is still shocked that someone as pretty as you even gave him the time of day. It’s what he tells you when he calls four days later in the middle of the night drunk. 

You entertain his drunk conversation and he eventually persuades you to go out with him the next day.

You’re nervous and excited because you’re going to bike to your picnic area, and he seemed very passionate about biking. 

You try to dress as comfortably as possible, biker shorts and a matching sports bra with a jacket to cover up just in case. 

Armin loses his mind when he sees you, all your curves on display have him just a teeny bit pent up, he was ready for the bike ride to release this feeling. 

Except it never went away because you ended up riding in front of him and he couldn't help sneaking glances at your pert round bottom. 

He had to pretend to crash twice to avoid popping a boner.

When you finally arrived at the area, it's beautiful in the middle of a flower field. A blanket was placed next to the pond for relaxation there was an actual table with the food spread on top covered by silver covers. 

“Armin!” You exclaim in surprise. You smile back to him sweetly, his heart skips a beat, without thinking he pulls his phone out and snaps a picture. 

“You looked cute!” He defends, face turning pink. You smile but lead the way to the table, he rushes over and pulls the chair out making you giggle, he was trying to be a gentleman... 

The date goes smoothly, Armin is glad things were working out and he really enjoyed himself. 

He steals glances at you during the drive home, and when he’s parked in your apartment complex he stumbles over his words as he tries to ask for another date. 

He’s so damn you, you lean over the console and lift his chin to face you. You lean in close and press a sweet kiss to his lips, you don’t miss his hesitation like he wants to kiss you more but doesn’t want to overdo it. 

“I’d love to go out with you again Armin.” You whisper looking from his lips to his eyes while biting your bottom lip. You’re going to be the death of him, he swears. 

“I’ll call you.” He says when you step out. He waits for you to step into your apartment and shut the door before he pulls off. 

You slide down the door, your heart is racing and you’re happy as hell because for the first time in a while you actually enjoyed yourself. 

  (nsfw)

  Armin reminisces about the early stages of your relationship, he tries to wonder if you’ve always been a tease? He thinks of the first date, that outfit you wore, and confirms you have. 

Like now, while the both of you attended Eren’s birthday party, you constantly brush against him in such sinful ways he wants to take you away to one of the rooms but he endures it because he secretly likes it. 

The minute you step foot into his apartment, he has you against the wall, pressing needy kisses into your neck.

“What brought this on?” You gasp out in between kisses. He doesn’t respond immediately, just continues to bully your lips, biting and suckling until you dart your tongue out, seeking his taste. 

He swallows your moans, and his hands start roaming your body, he stops at your breast, he knows you’re not wearing a bra and he wastes no time attacking your sensitive buds. 

He loves making you come undone this way, he loves that he has you whimpering and moaning in his hands he still can’t believe you get like this because of him. It turns him on so fucking much. 

But because you’re you, you always try to take control, your hands grip the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him away from the kiss. He groans out a noise deep in his throat and the noise is heaven to your ears because he sounds absolutely wrecked. 

“Y/n…” He pants out in irritation. You smirk and lean forward pressing a kiss to his neck. He turns his head to the side and lets you leave a trail of lovebites of your own. He goes absolutely insane when you mark him. 

“Arminnn….” You drag out his name in a mocking tone and he groans in frustration.

He’s not in the mood for your teasing so he pulls away from you, making you whine but he ignores you, he sits on the sofa, unbuttoning his shirt, he decides it’s his turn to tease you. 

You sit on the opposite sofa and watch as your boyfriend teases you. He takes his shirt off and runs his hands up and down his bare chest. He keeps eye contact when he reaches his pants, one hand unzipping while he pulls his dick out with the other. 

“Arminnn…” You whine his name and sit forward. He smirks and licks a wet stipe on his hand before starting a slow rhythm, he squeezes the tip of his dick and grunts because he’s so sensitive there. 

“Fuck look at you, squirming and I haven’t even touched you.” He chuckles throatily and throws his head back picking up the pace. He grabs himself at the base and has to hold himself because he’s embarrassingly close. 

“ ‘Min.” You whine, he peeks at you and you get up, sinking to your knees in front of him. He takes a deep breath because he’s not expecting you to engulf him in your mouth. He rarely asks for head, mostly because he does the giving.

“Oh fuck!” He moans aloud, his eyes roll to the back, your mouth is so warm and wet it’s heaven on earth. 

You get to work, swallowing him down, taking him mostly before gagging. He tangles his hand in your hair and makes a fist, pulling you off his cock, before dragging you back down making you gag. 

“ ‘m sorry..” He mutters then cants his hips upward to fuck your mouth, he doesn’t have the patience to hold back, not when you’re deep-throating him like this, moaning around his cock. 

He’s nice, he pulls back when he’s about to cum, the thought of you swallowing all his cum is too dirty for him to imagine so he releases it on your chest.  

He doesn’t forget about you, he sinks to the ground with you, he’s so desperate to taste you. 

“Pull this off.” He groans yanking at the zipper to your shorts. You do as you're told, anticipation washing over you at your boyfriend’s eagerness. 

He doesn’t even let you fully relax before he’s going down on you, you haven’t even removed your shorts or panties, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing them to the side, delving into your silky walls. 

He wants you to cum, he doesn’t beat around the bush, he’s got his fingers rubbing your clit urgently, while he fucks his tongue into you. You grip his blonde locks trying to prepare yourself for this orgasm. 

“Mmmm Armin, please…” You whine, your hips moving in sync with his movements involuntarily, He doesn’t let up and soon you’re curling in on yourself, locking Armin’s head in place as you come undone. 

Will clean you up and bring you to bed for cuddles because he literally just wants to mold your body to his.

  Levi Ackerman

                (sfw)

    This man straight up ignores you when you first meet. He’s here to do a job and that’s it. 

 You don’t let up after this. If anything you want to get this man to smile at least once. 

  You once joke to your coworkers that he’s actually an AI bot sent to the office to replace all humans in the work area. 

He hears the joke, and despite himself quirks a corner of his lip up. 

“His face moved!” You shout from across the office, he drinks from his mug and turns to sit back at his cubicle. Like he said from the start, he’s here to work. 

Things take a turn when Erwin puts his name in the secret santa-esque Valentine's day drawing. He chokes on his coffee when he hears his name being called, and then yours soon after. 

Two tickets for Top golf and wine tasting are presented before you both. Before Levi even has a chance to decide which is the better option he sees you snatching the top golf tickets and laughing like a maniac. 

“You’re going down Ackerman!” You point across him, everyone has eyes on him and he can’t help but shake his head at your ridiculousness.

He debates on going to the date, but he’s surprised when you call him two hours before the scheduled meeting time. 

“You better not stand me up. If you do I’ll tell everyone in the office and then they’ll hate you because how could you stand up someone so sweet?” You taunt. He laughs but assures you that he will in fact be there. 

And he is fifteen minutes early actually. 

He doesn’t show but he’s nervous. It’s why he orders a drink and waits for you to arrive. 

He begins to panic when five minutes pass and you don’t show up. Let another ten minutes go by before he’s texting and then calling your phone. 

“Where are you?” He asks you can hear the frown in his voice, you thank your driver and exit the car. “I’m outside, I’m so sorry, My ride got canceled three times.” You say as you run into the building. It’s cold out, your outfit still doesn’t stop the coldness from seeping in. 

“Are you in the front?” He asks, you can hear and echo so he has to be close by. You turn and run right into him. 

“Oh, shi-” You groan and jump back apologizing once you see a little of your makeup has smeared on his sleeve. He waves you off and offers a friendly hug making you drop your jaw in shock.

“Come one, I set up over here.” He leads you to the back, where his jacket is draped across a seat. He moves it and helps you up the stool. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asks and you shake your head yes, and settle on water.

Levi isn’t the best at golf. But you’re just as bad. He makes it a competition, for every target either of you hit, you can ask a question and the other person has to answer. 

By the end of the game, you know more about Levi than you ever would’ve thought. He surprises you when he pays for your food and drinks,  and again when he offers to bring you home. 

You’re so excited to go to work you decide to do a vigorous skincare routine & even lay your clothes out for the next day.

When you make it to work though, Levi is the same old Levi, ignoring your antics and barely cracking a smile. It kind of pisses you off. 

  (Nsfw)

  Things change between the two of you. You no longer look to include him in the office shenanigans, and when others ask about the date, you shut down, shrugging and coming up with an excuse that things just didn't work out. 

Levi hears this gossip and feels like shit. He tries to catch you alone multiple times but you almost always have someone with you or find quick excuses to exit the conversation. 

He gives up after a week of you dodging him. Thinks it’s pointless that he’s basically chasing you. He’s kinda pissed. 

Things change when Erwin announces the employees attending the quarterly conference. Of course, he calls you, of course, Levi’s name is called right after the murmurs star, and he looks to find your eyes, you’re staring at him already and he looks away quickly because he doesn’t think he can face you. Even if it’s been a month. 

You surprise him more when you sit next to him on the charter bus the company rents. “Don’t get your hopes up, it was this seat or the ones next to the toilets .” You say, slipping the sleep mask on your eyes. 

You fall asleep the minute the bus moves because he feels your head dip and then you’re resting it on his shoulder snoring softly. 

The problem starts when you’re an hour into the journey, still asleep, softly moaning his name. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate. He adjusted himself in his pants, he wasn’t going to get hard to this. 

He failed, especially when you rub against him, he has to shake you awake to avoid a complete boner. You groan and lift your head groggily.  You fuss at him, he grumbles that your snoring kept him up. You roll your eyes and bundle up in the seat facing away from him. He’s tripping if he thinks you’re moving, you mutter, he’s just going to have to deal with the snoring!

Avoids you the minute you stop at the hotel. You ignore the pain in your chest and gather your bags. Erwin stops you asking for Levi but you shrug, you just wanted to go back to sleep. 

The conference is boring. There’s no other way to put it. Day one was a mixer, you tried to talk to people from the other companies but they weren’t fun. You made a drinking game so by the time Levi stopped by the mixer you’re sitting alone at the bar tipsy as hell. 

“Shouldn’t you be mingling and interacting with other companies?” He asks in your ear. You jump and look back, he looks so damn good in that suit. You drag your eyes up slowly, making sure to bite your lip when you meet his.

“Aren’t you supposed to be ignoring me?” You retort, sipping the drink the bartender places in front of you.

He doesn’t answer but he slides into the space next to you and leans back looking at the guest around them. 

“For the record, I wasn’t trying to ignore you. We just wouldn’t work out.” He comments. You freeze and look at him frowning but he doesn’t meet your gaze. 

“Of course, the only hot guy in the office has commitment issues. Why did I have to like him? Everyone is like ‘Oh Erwin is so nice and strong and hot” but I had to jump on the fucking cold brooding Levi Train. Fuck me.” She mutters. 

He looks at you then. You look sad, pouting as you dipped your drink. Without thinking Levi reaches out, grabbing your face and pulling you into a kiss.

It catches you off guard but you react quickly, your lips melting against his surprisingly soft ones. 

“We can take this up to my room.” He groans against your lips. You nod your head frantically and that’s all he needs then he’s pulling you off the stool and towards the elevator. 

You try to touch him in the elevator but he makes you stand still by your side in case you run into anyone from the company. You whine the entire time. He swats your ass, a sharp sting that gets you quiet, frowning and pouting up at him. 

He makes you wait when you get in his room as well. You’re about to complain but he comes back shirtless and with a bottle of water. 

“Drink.” He demands, you pout but does as he says. When you’ve got a little bit to the halfway mark he takes it away and places it on the bedside table. 

He aids in taking your pantsuit off, he’s shocked at your lack of bra, but he can’t take his eyes off the way your ass cheeks sucks in the thong you’re wearing. 

“Levi…” You whine, he scolds you and takes his time peeling the tiny fabric down the length of your legs. 

“Do you know how hard it’s been to ignore you?” He mumbles when he kisses the inside of your thigh. 

“The fact that you’ve been dreaming of me too. Fuck y/n.” He practically growls. You lean into his touch, he’s massaging the globes of your ass,  he pushes you forward and you lay on the bed, arching your ass in the air for him. 

“Levi, I want you so bad.” He nods eagerly and doesn't waste any time kissing down your slit. He licks into your walls skillfully, easing a finger in eliciting the sweetest drawn-out moan from you. 

“Mmmm Fuck.” You groan, your hands grip the blankets below you. He’s everywhere on you and you can’t escape it. 

“You’re so tight, you can barely take my finger, how can you take my cock?” He teases. You whine but push your ass back to him. He smacks you hard on your left cheek making you gasp. 

“You’re such a tease.” You start to fuss but he’s back to suckling on your puffy clit and it drives you crazy. You buck your hips and bite down on the sheets. You feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Give it to me.” He says, a simple sentence but the raspiness in his voice makes you come undone, he groans when you gush your wetness for him, you’re completely unaware of the fact that he’s been jerking himself and he cums with a silent gasp, panting out your name and curse words before collapsing on the end next to you. 

The next morning he doesn’t give you the silent treatment, he helps you pack your things and puts them on the bus for you, no one says anything when you two sit at the back cuddled up and whispering to each other. 

  A/n: pt2 coming soon, this was 3.6k+ words of self indulgent drabble that I think fits each boy, pt 2 coming soon, I basically split this post in half, and hadn’t finished editing the rest another thing to note, I still don’t know how to format my post ^-^ 🥴 anywho thanks for reading and remember, requests are open! <33

BFM 2

[ashtheshortstack]

Truth be Told

Rating: G Fandom: Danny Phantom

Sequel to dwelling on deceit

Tags: Valerie POV, Post-PP

Read on ao3

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

Danny Phantom saving the world with his genius plan was something Valerie had to give him kudos for. Especially after he confirmed her suspicions and transformed back into Danny Fenton right before her eyes. She was a bit stunned to see it happen to say the least, but she knew. And was glad she was right.

The Danny she knew was just a dorky, awkward kid that she had ended up crushing on. It was… sudden. And she didn’t quite know how it happened. Little did she know she’d been fraternizing with the enemy. Danny did though. He knew she was hunting him. And yet… still pursued her. Still wanted to feel like a normal kid and date the girl he liked. She couldn’t imagine how hard it’d been for him. How hard she’d made it on him to constantly fight her knowing full and well he didn’t want to.

Dating Danny had been an uphill battle. As much as she liked him, she knew in her heart that he liked someone else more. Valerie wasn’t stupid. She could see the way he looked at Sam. It was selfish of her to confront the goth girl on the issue, but she wanted to hope that Sam would back off. She remembered when she overheard Sam saying that they’d give her a chance for Danny’s sake, but they knew. They knew this wouldn’t work out.

Jeez, Valerie owed Sam an apology. But… that would come later.

When she suited up, she hadn’t expected to find Danny so quickly. And surprisingly… alone? He and Sam had been attached at the hip since the Disasteroid. Valerie had noticed a small class ring on Sam’s finger every day at school when the two walked down the hallway with their fingers intertwined. Which was super lame and definitely not Sam’s color, but was fitting for Danny. She hated to admit that they were cute. As much as it made her want to gag.

He sat upon the town billboard. The one with the dumb “Amity Park: A Nice Place to Live!” slogan. Yeah, Amity Park was a great place to live if you enjoyed the constant ghost attacks. She was sure their town was going to become a tourist attraction not too long after the famous Danny Phantom saved the world.

“Do ghosts normally haunt billboards at night, Phantom?” she teased as she retracted her hoverboard beneath her feet.

“Night is the best time to haunt, Red, makes things spookier,” he replied, not turning to face her yet. His ever charming sarcasm oozed from his voice, but she could place a bit of hesitance in his tone as well.

Poor guy. Danny probably thought the worst of her. She hadn’t spoken to him since they had returned to school. He had spared her a few glances and nervous smiles between classes, but she hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t dared to pop open that can of worms. And yet, there she was… somehow finally finding her courage to speak to him. The boy she had hunted… the boy she had dated.

Her face softened as she smiled. “Hey, Danny.”

He looked at her then, those green eyes piercing and glowing. “Hey, Val,” he smiled. A genuine Danny smile that she had come to appreciate so much.

Valerie took a seat next to him, not sure where to even begin. But Danny took the lead, of course.

“So, how long is this truce thing going to last? I kind of miss you chasing me around with blasters,” he joked with a half hearted shrug.

Valerie chuckled, leaning back on her palms. “I didn’t know you enjoyed fighting so much..”

“Oh, yeah. Screaming in pain, getting caught in nets, even Skulker constantly telling me he wants my pelt on his wall: love it.”

“That’s a little TMI, Danny. I didn’t need to know that you were a masochist.”

Danny gaped at her. “That is not what I--”

Valerie cut him off with a burst of laughter. He pursed his lips, giving her a glare for teasing him but seemed to relax and join in the fit of giggles with her.

When the chuckles died down, Danny finally leaned back on his palms as she was. “You knew, didn’t you?”

She didn’t have to ask him to elaborate. Valerie already knew what he was asking. She looked up, gazing at the stars with a hesitant smile etching at the corner of her lips. “I had a suspicion. That was my fault, though, I shouldn’t have been so nosy and pried.”

Sighing, he shook his head. “No, if anything I was glad you knew. It’s hard explaining why I didn’t like Vlad Masters without a reason. Especially as a ghost.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t like him either.”

Danny snorted at that. “Pretty sure no one likes him anymore, Val. He tried to conquer the world by force and promised safety he couldn’t follow through on. Even my dad hates his old pal Vladdy.”

“Well, I didn’t like him anymore before that. And I tried so hard to play nice so he’d give me information. I think he tried to hint at your identity a few times too.”

Humming, he nodded. “Sounds right. Vlad always had a weird obsession with me.”

“What a freak.”

“A crazed up fruitloop.”

Valerie snorted at that. “I just--I want you to know that I’m happy for you. You’ve never seemed happier and I’m glad. You deserve it, Danny.”

He looked at her, those green eyes seeming to pierce her soul. He really was too kind. Too good, ablet a bit devious at times she knew. He always wanted what was best for everyone. Willingly sacrificed himself for the greater good so many times. And somehow, he was still the dorky unpopular kid at her school. The one she was mean to for so long because she thought that’s what she was supposed to do. Dating Danny had really opened her eyes to the person he could be. It didn’t surprise her one bit that he was Danny Phantom: the ghost hero of Amity Park.

“Thank you.”

The response was so genuine… it made her heart ache. There was a look on his face, however… something that told her there was more he wanted to say. Something in his eyes that didn’t sit well in the pit of her stomach.

“What is it?” she asked.

Danny swallowed, seeming tense. “I have to ask… how do you not hate me? I lied to you--a lot. You were dating me. You were dating Danny Phantom, the literal ghost you wanted to blast to bits and had no idea. Why didn’t you come here screaming at me?”

Sighing, she felt her shoulders sag. “After that stuff with Vlad… and after I figured you out, I had a lot of time to think about it. I was a little angry at first, I guess. But then I thought about how it must’ve been for you. You just wanted to be normal for once. It’d be lame of me to blame you for that. You knew I was literally trying to destroy your other half and yet you still wanted to be with me. I can’t hate you for that.”

He considered her, seeming to soak in her words. When he nodded with a smile, Valerie felt some relief. It wasn’t even a worry she realized she had. She hadn’t thought about Danny fearing how she’d react to him being Phantom. She was glad she could clear that up for him, at least.

Clearing her throat, Valerie quickly realized that sincere conversation was no longer for her. “Sooo, is Tucker seeing anyone?”

He blinked. “Aside from his PDA? No, not that I know of,” Danny paused and grinned. “Why? You interested?”

“I dunno. Dating Amity Park’s youngest mayor in history sounds enticing..”

“What? And dating Amity Park’s ghost superhero isn’t?”

She cocked a brow. “Yeah, but I heard he’s taken.”

“Again, that’s not what I meant.”

“Duh, I know what you meant.” Valerie paused, letting silence wash over her a minute before she sighed and glanced away from him. “We were never going to work, you know that, right?”

He cocked his head in a curious gesture. “What?”

“Danny, you’ve always loved her. Even when you didn’t know it. It was so obvious to everyone else. I just--I just thought I’d take my chances.”

Danny’s cheeks tinged pink (with a little bit of green mixed in, oddly enough.) “Valerie, I liked you. A lot. My feelings for you were real too.”

“‘Liked’ being the operative word. Danny, it’s okay. You don’t have to validate your feelings to me. I know you liked me. I just know you have had stronger feelings for Sam.”

He opened his mouth as if he were going to argue, but snapped his jaw shut quickly. Pursing his lips, he glanced away. “I do. I love her.”

“Have you told her?”

“No…?”

Valerie smacked him on the arm.

“Hey!”

“Why are you telling me, Fenton!? You should be telling Sam that!”

“I will!”

“When?”

“When it feels right!”

Valerie groaned, flopping her head back. “Ughh, you’re such a hopeless romantic. It’s almost gross.”

“Hey! You liked it when I tried to woo you!”

“Maybe so.”

He gave her a knowing look before turning away. “I don’t know how to tell her. I’ll get there, okay?”

Raising her hands in surrender, Valerie caved. “Okay, fine. But do it quick, someone may snatch her up.”

“Are you trying to steal my girlfriend, Valerie?”

“Hey, maybe I just want to homie hop. I’ll date Tucker next then steal Sam from right under your nose.”

Snorting, Danny shoved her gently. “As if. Pretty sure she loves me.”

“Uh huh. Maybe she’d say it if you say it first.”

There was a beat of silence, and Valerie worried she had pushed the conversation too far. But Danny surprised her instead.

He smiled at her.

“Can we be like this all the time,” he asked.

“Me threatening to steal your girlfriend?”

He barked a laugh. “No! Just--Just being friends.”

Valerie smiled in return, holding out a hand to him. “Permanent friends truce, then?”

Nodding, he took her hand. “Permanent friends truce.”

When she let go, Valerie turned to look over the streets. As stressful as it could be to live in Amity Park, there’s nowhere else she’d want to go. This was home. These were her people. And she loved her life. It took her a long time to see it. But Amity Park meant so much to her. It was terrifying to know her life was a risk. Her home was at risk. But Danny saved them. Saved her. Just like he always did.

“You want to be a member of Team Phantom?”

“Oh, God,” she made a gagging sound. “You guys have a team name?”

“Hey! We’re cool enough to have a team name.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that, Fenton.”

[xbunnybunz]

The terrible, you. (3/5) [Wolf Keum x Reader]

Summary: After Wolf Keum unwittingly rescues you from seedy men in the dead of night, he can't shake you from his side. After a while, he's not sure if he wants to.

Genres: Romance

Date: June 16, 2020

-----

You did not appear again the next day.

Wolf Keum had not been waiting for you to present yourself. He made sure to remind himself of that.

Yet, the endless chatter of the “girl looking for Wolf Keum” going around Ganghak was grating on his nerves and disallowed him to purge you from his mind.

As someone his classmates could barely bring themselves to look at, he was an awful popular point of contention. You had made a bigger mess than you could imagine.

“I’m telling you, she’s way too cute for him. I’ve seen her working at the flower shop by the underpass, and I don’t think she could be interested in him like that at all, ever. Too bad for him.”

As one of the strongest members of Yeongdeungpo, Wolf Keum’s personal business was always made public business in a matter of days, or in this case, hours. He had first looked upon this with irrational contempt, wondering why his name belonged in anybody’s mouth if they could barely utter a syllable in his presence. After a while, he realized that rumors, while spoken about for the sake of entertainment, could also serve to emphasize his power without much effort on his part.

It wasn’t much different now, though Wolf had to admit he had never been jabbed in the pride regarding his romantic life before. He had no idea it existed until now. It stirred his temper more than dumbfucks shit-talking his fights, and he reasoned that his irritability stemmed from the fact that these slobs would talk about just about anything. Still, he couldn’t settle things like he did back then. Not while he was under Donald Na’s system. It wasn’t as effective than beating the living shit out of anyone who looked at him funny, but it did allow time for his bruised knuckles to heal before the next beatdown.

His friend was quick to snatch the collar of the offender.

“What the hell did you say about Wolf? What do you know? Do I need to knock out your teeth so you think twice before yammering?”

The smaller student squirmed in the iron grip, sweating bullets and eyes darting about to find aid from his friends.

“I- I didn’t mean to! I mean, I wasn’t talking about Wolf Keum, the girl, she-”

“You weren’t talking about Wolf Keum?”

Wolf watched out of the corner of his eye, hands in his pockets, as the student was nearly hoisted from the floor from the collar.

“Who the hell were you talking about then? Geum Sa-Wol? You watch that shit, loser?”*

As the student became a blubbering mess, Wolf swept his eyes over the crowd in the hallway. All eyes were diverted. It was deafeningly silent, a silence that Wolf Keum craved for two reasons. One, it meant he could finally have a few goddamn seconds of peace without her face bouncing around in his head; and two, it meant that although students refused to look up, they were still very much listening.

“Hey man.”

Wolf placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and he could feel the trembling of the other student through his arm.

“Don’t sweat it.”

The smaller kid was set down, and Wolf had to keep himself from snarking at his pale face and wide eyes. Instead, he turned his chin up and offered a sickening smile, his glasses catching the gleam of the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.

“I can’t waste time on shit-mouthed fuckers who can’t get the facts straight.”

Wolf reached out to scornfully dust off his wrinkled jacket, enjoying each flinch he induced when his hand landed too harshly or too quickly. He lowered his voice to a dangerous octave, a surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins when he felt the room drop ten degrees in response.

“Her and I have nothing to do with each other, and definitely nothing to do with you. It’s best for us to keep it like that for your sake, don’t you think?”

He lowered his gaze to glower at the shorter student, who, trembling, swallowed thickly and nodded stiffly under his suffocating presence. Wolf remained rooted to the floor, asserting his pressure for a few more long seconds for good measure before giving him a shove.  

“Now fuck off.”

He watched as the student took off, tripping over the air in his haste and plummeting into the unforgiving tiled floors with a splat.

Wolf regarded him with a derisive glance and moved to open the door to his classroom, and though it was someone else on the floor, all eyes were on him. He always reveled in the high of scaring someone shitless when he had an audience. Their deafening silence represented their resounding submission to him, but perhaps his most favorite part of all was the contrast of atmosphere immediately before and after he entered another room. The collective drop of shoulders, the perfectly synchronized sighs of relief and immediate whispers of disbelief flooded Wolf Keum with euphoria. It reminded him that his mere presence was enough to instill fear into the hearts of his peers, strong enough to demand subservience, and a testament to his self-made reputation.

It was exactly what he needed now after a long day of conflicting thoughts, which he shamefully had to admit, had made him restless. When he slid the door to his classroom open, he could almost hear the eyes moving from his back to his desk.

In all his years of accruing bloody knuckles and broken noses, he had never once been as stunned as he was in this one soundless and stagnant moment. A crowd had formed around his table, busybodies nosing about and phone cameras shuttering. The moment they heard the door fling open they scattered like roaches, throwing themselves back into their seats and trying hard to seem occupied as to not incur the wrath of Wolf Keum.

Piled high on his desk was an amalgamation of pinks and reds, wrapped delicacies placed upon gift boxes placed upon packages tied to little pink balloons. Wolf took this all in with as straight a face as he could muster, knowing everyone was more sensitive to his presence now than ever before. This included of course, eyebrows arching upwards and his jaw becoming slack.

No one could blame Wolf Keum for his reaction. They had in fact, reacted in the same exact manner- perhaps to a more notable extent. Even for a normal person, a love letter or a small baked treat would suffice as a proclamation of love. But for Wolf Keum, the gifts spread across his desk in a flashy show of affection were tenfold more surprising. It was incomprehensible to anyone that Wolf, the brute occupied with street violence and gang activity, would ever entertain the idea of liking someone, and even moreso shocking that someone could see past their terror and admire him- especially in such an ostentatious fashion.

This revelation was of course, made much more interesting because of the blatant denial that he had anything to do with a girl prior. Wolf knew this more than anyone and gathered his wits to press onward, feeling something strangely similar to adrenaline pulsing through his body and reddening his ears.

“W-Wolf…” His friend stuttered, raising a weak finger to point at the desk. “…What is that?”

Wolf skulked into the classroom, hands deep in his pockets and a snarl on his lips. He had an idea, but couldn’t formulate it into words. He settled for the next best thing.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know, dimwit? I’m looking now.”

“O-oh. Right.”

He approached the table with caution, cringing at the vivid colors and grotesque amount of home baked pastries and sweets. There was an assortment of red cosmos, pink tulips and white daises sitting upon everything, tied together neatly with a thick shiny ribbon pinning down a notecard.

Wolf considered knocking everything over in a fit of confused rage. He considered ordering his lackey to burn it in the incinerator. He considered many things, yet curiosity ate him alive and stopped him from uttering a single word.

He had thought about her all day, damn it all if denying it did anything. She had a strange manner to her that he couldn’t shake and he was enraged when she failed to show up again after gaining his attention. Though no, it hadn’t been directed at her- which was what infuriated him. For the first time in years, Wolf Keum had been disappointed in himself, perhaps for not being interesting enough to earn another visit, or strong enough to impress her beyond a single local market creampuff.

When she didn’t show up again as he had anticipated, he was overtaken by pesky attempts to explain it. He guessed she was shy, he guessed she was nervous, he guessed she came to her senses, he had guessed and guessed until it drove him up the wall and back down again. But even with his reputation and credibility on the line, even while being documented by a sea of students who undoubtedly would share this with friends later- now that just a breath of her existence was in front of him, he had to know- was she back after all? The adrenaline had now inched its way across his body and set his heart and mind aflame, temperatures soaring and burning their way across his cheeks.

“Bro, I can toss it for you-”

“Shut up for a second.”

Wolf ignored the other man, who wisely shut his trap. He was preoccupied with keeping his hand steady as he stiffly reached out for the notecard, a gleam overtaking his glasses. The gold foil note looked strangely out of place in his calloused and bandaged hands, but the name on the notecard was undoubtedly his.

Dear Wolf Keum, Yay!! You found my gifts!! I hope you can enjoy these snacks with all of your funny friends. The flowers are for you though. I picked them from the florist shop I work at myself. I hope you like them! (PS: Put them in carrot juice to make them last longer!) (PPS: or don’t… my boss tells me not to do that in the shop…)

He lowered the card and looked up with a deadpan glower, all the students who had been peering over their shoulders flinched and look back to the front.

He didn’t know what to feel. Wolf Keum was instinctively mad at everything. If the television didn’t work, he was mad. If he had forgotten an umbrella in the rain, he’d be mad and take someone else’s and still be mad. Any slight inconvenience to Wolf Keum was followed by inevitable punishment, and though he was inconvenienced now more than ever with your gifts tarnishing his title in both Ganghak High and the Union, in this moment he felt nothing more than exasperation.

A familiar pipsqueak shitstain voice sounded from the door.

“Woah, she really does like you! How?”

Wolf Keum grit his teeth and felt his hands ball into tight fists at his side, confusion igniting once again to erupt into a bitter and wild, barely contained rage. He was Wolf Keum. Why did he care? Why did he care what a shitty bread shuttle had to say?

He felt his temper raise to lick at the edges of his vision, something of the sort of beast he was used to encountering, but driven by something larger and much more foreign than he was used to. What was it that he, Wolf Keum, was so unfamiliar with? So unable to control?

A creep of red colored his neck, a dash ran across his face, and then he knew at once.

The amount of effort it took for him to sustain regular breathing was fucking bullshit. The way his fists were ready to swing yet ever trembling was fucking. Bullshit.

To onlookers, this Wolf Keum was the same as the Wolf Keum all the days before, face red with irritation, quaking fists itching for a brawl. He was thankful of this, but at the same time hated how he had to hide behind his title instead of living up to it.

Wolf Keum was insecure.

“You little bitch! I’ll rip out your tongue!”

A figure lunged at the smaller boy in the periphery of Wolf's vision, yet he paid it no mind. There was no satisfaction that came from the dull sound of crying and a fists cracking against a nose. Wolf settled into his chair with an aura that filled the room with a cold draft.

With his mood soured, everyone was suddenly reminded that Wolf Keum with gifts on his desk was in fact, still Wolf Keum.

The silence that surrounded the noisy beating did nothing to ease the atmosphere as the pink balloon bobbed softly in the air.

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 421

WHY IS SLAUGHTERING ANIMALS PRESCRIBED AS IT IS: Part 1

Muslims are permitted to slaughter animals for food, and the manner of doing so is carefully prescribed in the Qur’an and Sunna. To depart from that prescribed manner is to render the meat of the animal unlawful, that is, to make it haram. It is also, as we shall explain, to make the meat dangerous for consumption, to make it a health hazard. The general point is also an interesting one, that what is haram should also be harmful, with the implication that what is halal is also what is safe and indeed beneficial.

It is an aspect of the Divine Mercy that everyone of those actions which a practising Muslim is required to do in a particular way and with a particular intention combines a moral-spiritual value with a utilitarian value. For example, it has been objectively demonstrated that, if done properly and regularly, wudu contributes to having clean, healthy skin (see Fountain, 1, pp.33-6). Of course, that is not the point of doing wudu. The point of doing wudu is to get oneself in a state of readiness for worship–for the explicit occasions such as doing the prayer or reading the Qur’an, or, more generally, for initiating any action which the Muslim hopes may be acceptable as worship. The practical benefit of doing the prescribed acts in the prescribed manner is not what makes them acceptable or worthy as acts of worship. If a non-Muslim does the same actions, copying every detail with exact care, or if a Muslim does them but without the proper intention, only the practical benefits are to be hoped for: it is the intention that earns the moral reward. The practical benefit can then be understood as the additional (and not the essential) merit of the prescribed actions–a part of the rationality, the universality, the sheer ease of Islam.

It is in this general perspective that we can best grasp the benefits of slaughtering animals according to the manner prescribed to Muslims. The four conditions of it, after the condition that the animal be one lawful for Muslims to eat, are: 1) that the person doing the slaughtering is a Muslim of sound mind (not mad, not drunk, not legally a minor); 2) that the name of Allah is pronounced before any incision is made; 3) that the instrument used is extremely sharp; 4) that the incision is made in the neck just below the glottis, cutting the throat and oesophagus, the jugular vein and the carotid artery, but (and this is most important) without cutting the spinal cord or severing the head from the body. We should add that it is improper to interfere with the carcass (for example, to begin skinning or dismembering the animal) before convulsions have ceased and its life fully departed.

Plainly, the first and second conditions have to do with the intention, the state of mind, of the person doing the slaughtering. The subsequent conditions have to do with the practical details of carrying out the intention. Studied objectively (that is, without the prejudice of anti-Muslim sentiment), the practical details are found to be the most reliable way of producing wholesome meat without causing undue distress or pain to the animal.

The sharpness of the instrument guarantees the speed of the incision. The speed ensures that, just as when a man cuts himself shaving with a razor, the incision itself is painless (even if, much later, the wound may not be). The particular incision, the cutting of the major blood vessels in the neck, produces an immediate stunning effect: it causes the most massive possible haemorrhaging of blood which, by straightaway cutting the supply of blood to the brain, renders the animal unconscious. However, because the spinal cord is not (must not) be cut, the brain continues to send its electrical impulses to the heart, urgent messages demanding the supply of blood: that is why the animal convulses violently, pumping blood ever more vigorously and so speeding up the haemorrhaging process, until life leaves the body. Certainly, these violent convulsions (the result of rapid muscle contraction) look distressing, but in fact they are painless to the animal which, as we have noted, is unconscious during this process. The body’s own mechanism is thus used to rapidly drain the carcass of blood. Not until the draining of blood is finished is it permissible to proceed with skinning or dismembering the carcass. Why?Blood carries nutrients round the body to feed its tissue cells and carries away the waste product left after the nutrients have been extracted; after processing in the kidneys the blood is purified of these wastes and again circulated. The same blood also carries organisms which are responsible for disease but which in a healthy living body do not present as clinical symptoms. Separated from the body, these disease-carrying organisms are indeed harmful and it is for that reason (among others) that the consumption of blood is forbidden. Moreover, blood in a carcass is the principal breeding- ground for all kinds of bacteria. The failure to drain a carcass adequately renders it liable to rapid putrefaction, making the meat unfit for consumption. The convulsions of the slaughtered animal are the most efficient and (despite appearances) the most painless method of pumping the carcass free of blood.

[beca-mitchell]

we are the wild youth (1/5)

summary:  Beca needs some money to get out of Barden as quickly as possible. It just so happens that an opportunity all but drops in her lap: one Chloe Beale, desperately in need of a tutor to pass her last two classes to graduate.

Warnings for smut and angst and drama. Mainly smut. Rated M/E.

chapter one:  fever dream high

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

word count: 3,178

Rated M/E for depictions of coitus. This fic is an AU imagining of PP somewhat: Beca never joins the Bellas and is somewhat of a nerd, Chloe still stays back an extra three years, and there's backstory that was never part of the PP universe. But otherwise, it is set at Barden, Beca still loves music.

Fic title from “Youth” by Daughter. Chapter title from “Cruel Summer” by Taylor Swift. This fic is based on this gifset.

Read below or on AO3.

Beca just wants to graduate.

The deal she cut with her father is not the best deal in the world, but to him, a degree means something. Something meaningful. Meaningful enough that he’s willing to help her get the fuck out of Atlanta and move to New York. That kind of meaningful.

So in that sense, her degree is meaningful to her too. No time for fucking around.

But, senior year kind of means that she can start to take it easy. She’s almost there. She just needs to continue keeping her guard up long enough to ensure that Jesse still gets the hint she’s not interested in him and she just needs to pass.

Hence why this beginning-of-year party is an anomaly, but she’ll take it if there’s free alcohol and maybe the chance to unwind. Bedmate optional.

Beca isn’t one for parties. Definitely not one for house parties at a frat house.

She supposes these are the people who will end up playing her music in the future, however. Peering around, she grimaces at the very-near-public sex happening right on a couch that looks a little too used. A little too comfortable.

Start-of-term parties are always memorable in their own way. They’re almost formulaic in a sense. Guy gets girl, something valuable will be broken—maybe a television, maybe a heart—and something will go wrong.

Beca likes observing all of this from the outskirts while Jesse, who is the only person daring enough to drag her out of her apartment, floats away like the social butterfly he is.

It’s not that she hates parties, nor is she a recluse, Beca is just kind of tired of college at this point. She had promised her parents at least two years in college before she could head out to Los Angeles and really fulfill her dreams, but it turns out that she kind of needs money for that. Money which she doesn’t really have even if she’s been saving up pennies and quarters since middle school.

School is a safety net. She’s been told that all her life, with no small measure of patronization.

It also kind of sucks that Beca inherited at least a portion of her father’s intelligence. The daughter of a professor? There was no way he was letting her leave Barden without at least degree. Realistically, she inherited his knack for school because she’s kind of good at it. Physics, at least, hasn’t been a problem. Or Calculus.

It’s just fucking boring and she doesn’t even intend on using her degree. And she only chose something deeply rooted in science and math because she thought it would piss him off.

Many errors have been made. Miscalculated, even. Or perhaps more on point, horribly erroneous like a series of wrong notes in the middle of a symphony.

Beca could go on.

She can hear her father’s voice, somehow cutting through the raucous party and lodging deep in her head: “But your little music gigs, Beca? It’s a hobby. Science and math? That’ll get you jobs.” Then in the same breath, without fail: “It’s what your mother would want.”

The forced reminder makes Beca take another swig of cheap beer before she makes her way over to the keg for more. As she turns the corner, she stumbles, bumping into a shockingly solid body. As she drops her thankfully-empty cup, she reaches up to grab on to the arms that have come around her back to steady her.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, lifting her gaze to make some kind of eye contact when she realizes the body she’s pressed against doesn’t belong to yet another generic frat boy. Instead, she feels soft, feminine curves and the slightest hint of firm muscle beneath the fabric of a thin leather jacket.

Shockingly blue eyes stare back at her. “Hi,” she greets.

“Hi,” Beca replies, still stunned. “Um,” she steps back from the stranger’s space. Or...somewhat of a stranger would be a more apt descriptor. She would be remiss if she didn’t acknowledge that she just nearly bowled over Chloe Beale whose last name just happens to be on at least two buildings around school. Chloe Beale who is devastatingly pretty with blue eyes to die for and red hair and a burning smile.

Chloe Beale who is staring at her like she’s seeing her for the first time.

(She probably is.)

“Beca, right?”

Beca swallows. “I—yeah. How…?” Beca shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m not usually this horribly awkward.”

Chloe smiles. “How are you, usually, then? Other than being the most talented radio host Barden has ever had.”

It’s the oddest interaction to be having with a stranger in the middle of a house party. Beca can barely hear her own thoughts.

Chloe seems to read her mind. “Want to go somewhere quieter?”

Beca has never agreed to a cliche more quickly in her life.

- - x - - 

It doesn’t take long—in fact, Beca barely gets out the question “How do you know my name?” before Chloe is in her space and pulling her in for a bruising kiss. Beca’s body immediately thrums with excitement and repressed energy and she quickly pushes back at Chloe, determined to at least put up some small measure of a fight against Chloe’s immediate dominance over her.

But she quickly realizes that it feels so much better, letting Chloe take control like this—Chloe whom Beca had no idea even knew she existed, let alone wanted to hook up with her.

Chloe’s breath is hot against her neck while she holds Beca against the dresser. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Mitchell,” she breathes, voice dripping with promise and pure want.

Beca’s brain short-circuits then, a symphony of jangled notes and endless crescendos. She can only nod weakly, hands scrabbling up Chloe’s back and pulling at the thing fabric of her shirt uselessly before she grabs onto Chloe’s hair and pulls her in for another kiss.

Chloe groans and pushes back against Beca, tilting her further over the dresser and displacing bottles of cologne and accessories. Strong hands grab at her thighs and force her legs apart so Chloe’s hips can settle more firmly between Beca’s legs. The action alone sends shockwaves up Beca’s brain. Beca, who is no stranger to sex, realizes that she has never felt such strong arousal from just kissing before.

“Are we going to have sex?” Beca asks before she can help herself. She immediately regrets the question when it leaves her mouth. “Because I want to,” she says quickly before she loses it or before Chloe thinks that she’s having doubts. She isn’t. It’s just overwhelming, being so taken and consumed by a girl she barely knows.

Not for lack of trying, Beca supposes.

Of course, Beca has a stupid crush on Chloe Beale. It seemed like most people did, somehow. Chloe, popular by virtue of her wealth but also mysterious and aloof disposition, never seemed to be short on suitors.

A small measure of pride wells up in Beca before it is immediately replaced by a swooping tightening in her belly as Chloe’s teeth nip harshly at her neck. With the amount of suitors Chloe frequently wards off (and the smaller number that she seems to allow close to her), Beca assesses that it would also appear that Chloe didn’t need any encouraging at all. Much less direction.

Before Beca manages even a measly gasp or even a weak tug to Chloe’s hair, Chloe’s hands are already greedily grabbing at her hips, pushing and pulling at the fabric impatiently for a moment or so, getting a good grope in, before her fingers deftly find the button of Beca’s jeans.

Beca sucks in a breath.

It takes a moment, but Chloe pauses, lifting her head from her assault on Beca’s neck. Her eyes, dark and blown with desire, flicker with something nearly unrecognizable.

Beca’s eyes drift back down to Chloe’s lips in the ensuing silence.

“You’ve never had sex with a girl before, have you?” Chloe asks.

Beca blushes immediately, averting her eyes for a brief second before Chloe tilts her chin back up to catch her lips in a sweeping, full, wet kiss. It’s more romantic than it has any business being. Beca moans against her own will, lifting her hips up almost impatiently against Chloe’s still hand. She is so conscious of the ache between her legs. So conscious of how her previous encounters with men left her wanting and dissatisfied. Not all the time, but more often than not.

How she had always imagined what it would be like with a woman.

Chloe, maybe. Chloe, specifically. Chloe, who had occasionally seeped into her thoughts based on the occasional classes they shared together. Chloe, who ran around the track almost every morning, visible from Beca’s dorm window. Chloe, who had smiled at her just briefly from across the quad at the activities fair all those years ago and Beca hd simply just turned away—

Chloe, who is pressed against her, lips swollen from the force of their shared kisses.

Lips swollen from Beca.

“Beca?” Chloe asks, referring to Beca by her first name for the first time all evening.

“Yeah,” Beca rasps, hot against her newfound lover’s mouth.

It takes a few seconds for Beca to process sudden emptiness she feels—a lack of warmth, really—but she realizes belatedly that it is because Chloe is on her knees, pulling Beca’s jeans down her trembling legs. When Chloe looks up at her, fluttering long eyelashes, Beca feels an answering gush between her legs.

Fuck, Beca thinks with every last primal instinct coursing through her. Fuck me. She reaches out instinctively to thread her fingers through Chloe’s hair, swallowing at how natural it feels to tangle her hands in another girl’s hair. To enjoy it so much.

Chloe says nothing while she helps Beca step out of her jeans. The movements, though gentle and slow, do nothing to ease the growing tension gnawing at her stomach. She clenches again involuntarily and moans in response to her own actions causing Chloe to look up from where she still kneels in front of Beca.

For a moment, Beca feels powerful.

Then, Chloe’s fingertips gently hook into the elastic waistband of Beca’s underwear.

“Tell me how hard you want me to fuck you, Beca Mitchell,” Chloe murmurs, her voice permeating the thick fog of Beca’s brain. It almost stuns Beca into silence, but she realizes that what she wants even more than LA at that moment is Chloe’s fingers between her legs. Her tongue maybe. Lips. Beca’s hands through her hair, tangled all night.

The possibilities are seemingly endless.

“Hard,” she chokes out. “Just fuck me hard.”

Blue eyes flash with delight and the promise of everything to come.

- - x - -

She does come. Multiple times that night against the dresser. Then again when she invites Chloe back to her apartment. Against her own front door. In her bed, testing the strength of her boxspring mattress.

But none of that matters—what matters is how breathtaking Chloe looks when Beca unravels her. Breathless in her own way. Possessing Beca’s bed like she has nowhere else she’d rather be. The unmistakable tremble as Beca’s fingers sink into tight, wet heat. Choked off moans against Beca’s mouth.

And as Beca falls asleep, tired and spent, she thinks vaguely of the flash of red hair that fateful day at the activities fair. How she had pointedly avoided the pretty girl with blue eyes and red hair.

It feels like regret, chasing her into her dreams.

- - x - -

Beca isn’t one to dwell on things, however. She has no time for that kind of distraction, even if that distraction is the pleasant, fleeting sensation of Chloe’s lips pressing against the curve of her shoulder as she slips into a waking state.

There is something incredibly tender about the way Chloe’s fingers comb through her hair as she whispers a murmured goodbye into Beca’s ear. Her lips graze the sensitive skin on the shell of her ear, seeping into the peripheries of Beca’s dreaming state.

It feels like a dream, at least. All of it. Unattainable, super-senior Chloe Beale.

When Beca wakes up again, her bed is cold and empty and she’s pretty sure the aches coursing through her body have nothing to do with alcohol.

She peers blearily at her phone, unfortunately uncharged and nearly dead, and startles upon seeing that it is half past ten and she’s meant to meet a new student at eleven. She jolts out of bed and right into the shower, regrettably washing off all the remaining memories from the previous night. As she reaches between her own legs, she puffs out a heavy breath and tries not to think about how sure Chloe’s hands felt on her body the night before.

This new student is a special request from the Dean of Students himself, sent her way by her father. She had protested, barely, but the pretty monetary figure that had slid across her gaze had been enough to hold her attention.

“Just twice a week for the year. Both semesters. This student needs to pass,” her father emphasizes.

“Who is this student,” Beca demands, tucking the form into her jacket pocket. “Another entitled rich kid?”

Her father pinches his nose. “Look, I recommended you directly to Dean Sanders the moment I heard about this request. It’s from a special benefactor to the school and I know how much you need the money to go to L.A..”

“I wanted to go to L.A. three years ago.”

“Do you not want to go anymore?”

Beca bites her tongue to stop from saying anything else and looks away.

“I know you’re an adult, Becs, but I have your best interests in mind. I just want to see you try. If you do this, I’ll double what the benefactor pays you. I’ll match it and double it.”

Beca can hardly believe her ears. It’s a lot of money. Enough to be considered “safe”, even. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Beca nearly trips multiple times on the way to the diner—an odd background for a tutoring session—but she somehow makes it there with a minute to spare. She realizes she has no idea who she’s even meeting with and slowly slides into the closest booth, keeping an eye out for anybody who looks especially lost.

She sits uncertainly for at least fifteen minutes, downs an entire cup of coffee, and fends off awkward inquiries from the server before she pulls out her phone intent on calling her father and giving him a piece of her mind. On cue, she gets a text.

Unknown Hey, my dad gave me this number. You’re my tutor, right? Rebecca? lol

Beca groans.

Beca hey, yep i’m your tutor. I’m at Carl’s, just got a booth at the back

The door jingles somewhere in the background and Beca glances up to meet Chloe Beale’s gaze dead-on.

“You’re fucking joking,” Beca mutters.

Chloe, for her part, does not look pleased at all as she tosses her bag into the booth before sliding in across from Beca.

“Small world,” Chloe comments.

“You’re telling me.”

Chloe looks like she might say something else and Beca braces herself for the potential innuendo or lust-laden comment, but nothing comes. Instead, Chloe simply folds her hands and watches Beca intently, looking every bit like an innocent college student with a desire to pass her class.

Beca’s gaze flickers down to the neatly folded fingers.

When she looks back up, Chloe’s expression morphs into one that makes Beca swallow nervously.

“Are you nervous?” Chloe asks. “It’s just me,” she says in a tone that implies that she knows exactly what inappropriate thoughts are floating through Beca’s mind.

Beca ignores that, both the words and the tone Chloe uses, and pulls out her notebook and binder. “You’re in calculus two...then statistics next semester?” Chloe nods. “Those are usually first-year requirements, how are you getting away with this? Is this a pre-med degree?”

Chloe smiles—a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “When your father’s name is on the school’s med school building, you kind of get things handed to you no matter how much you want to fight it. I can only control so much.”

Beca scoffs before she can help herself. “Well, I don’t know if that’s entirely true. I think that there are things out of our control sometimes, but there are definitely things within our control.” Like leaving calculus and statistics until the end. Like sleeping together and wanting to do it again, but resisting.

Chloe gazes at her with renewed interest. “You’re a tutor, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

“And my dad hired you.”

Beca shrugs. “Kind of...so I guess your dad will kill me in front of the entire student body if we don’t do this.” She clicks her pen. “Come on, show me your assignments.”

“I really don’t want to do what he wants,” Chloe says, fluttering her eyes at Beca. “Want to do something else instead?”

Beca scowls. “I’m your tutor, whether you like it or not.”

“Fuck that.”

Beca tries not to smile at that. Chloe has such a pleasant speaking voice and a generally pleasant expression on her face at all times that it isn’t hard to see why she’s probably one of the most well-liked people on campus. So well-liked that it is often overlooked that she’s going for a third round of her senior year.

Still, professionalism. Beca can do that, kind of. She tutored worse people in high school. “Let’s get this over with, okay?”

It is entirely the wrong thing to say. Chloe’s smile widens and she leans forward, her shoulders hunched like a predator just about to pounce. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“I...oh my God.” Beca purses her lips and looks around hurriedly before settling on the glass of water to her side. Grabbing it, she sips it delicately for a few long moments while avoiding Chloe’s gaze and quenching the sudden dryness in her throat.

The cool water sliding down her throat is a nice thing to focus on.

She’s not focusing on anything else. Not the phantom sensation of Chloe’s hands ghosting up her sides. Not the phantom sensation of Chloe making her hold on to her own headboard. Not the phantom sensation of Chloe’s lips against her thighs, leaving marks and hot, wet kisses.

Not the very real sensation from Chloe’s eyes boring a hole into her forehead, like she can see right into the recesses of Beca’s minds. Every last dark, lustful thought.

But the moment ends before Beca can really process everything, like how part of her wants to shove everything off the table so she can climb over and straddle Chloe’s lap.

Chloe sighs, opens her textbook, and points out the series of problems she has to complete for the week. “There,” she mutters.

Math—math, Beca can do. Calculus. Statistics.

Chloe, not so much.

(Even though she already did.)

/end chap. 1

read the rest: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[loverholland]

april 10, 1912. pp

summary: they said she was unsinkable. they said being on a ship that a prayer wasn’t set for was worrisome. maybe they were right.  words: 1.9k warning: none?? talk of religion, but its the 1910′s so... a/n: this is the beginning of a series. both gabi and soph read it for me and i spoke about it a little bit!  masterlist | upcoming | next chapter | teaser

Today’s the day. You were to board the fastest, largest, and unsinkable ship to ever lay on the earth. It was something extraordinary and you would be on it. You would be one of the first people to ever experience it.

You parents had spent 7 pounds sterling on your ticket, explaining that it was their gift to you for your birthday. You thanked them, of course, you did, why wouldn’t you? You didn’t want to live in Ireland anymore, but your whole family had heard how great America was and… You would be damned if you didn’t get to America and find a better life for yourself.

So, there you stood, in front of the Titanic, your luggage was in hand and your ticket sat between your fingers as you admired the ship. She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning, if you did say so yourself. She would take you to America and give you a new life, she would give you something you couldn’t get in Ireland.

“Third class passengers, board the ship now.” A man hollered from the top of the bow. You took a deep breath, bent at the knees and picked up the small luggage before taking a deep breath and turning to go towards where many others were standing.

You stood in line, bobbing up and down as you waited. You hummed a church tune as you watched as a few girls got their ticket checked before boarding the ship. They were giddy and you wondered if they were friends. You didn’t have any friends. At least not here. You were planning on writing each one of your friends a letter while on this ship and then sending it off as soon as you set foot in America.

“Ticket ma’am,” the man standing behind a railing said and you looked over at him, your eyes wide as you nodded quickly. You handed over the ticket and he looked over it before roughly stamping something on the ticket. You smiled and took it back, bowing your head slightly.

“Thank you! Thank you so much,” you thanked, and he waved his hand. You watched as some of the railings were pulled back to allow you access and you smiled at the young boy before stepping on. You looked around and couldn’t help but squeal to yourself out of excitement.

It was real. This was real and you would be leaving home. You really were leaving and now was no turning back because… here you were. On the greatest ship in the world.

You had spent a few hours in your cabin, becoming situated a bit with those who were rooming with you and where you all should put your things. They were all very nice. You were sharing with the room with two teen girls, they looked no older than 14 if anyone asked you, but they both were coming from Ireland as well. They both had pretty long red hair and dimpled cheeks. They talked a lot, mostly about how excited they were to come to America, but they would miss their family. And who wouldn’t?

Most Irish families you know have many children. Yours has 8 and another on the way, and from how the twins spoke, they had 9. Not counting them, of course.

The two also spoke about their religion, one that you related to. You often wore a Virgin Mary pendant around your neck and always carried one of your rosaries in your pocket that sat on the inside of your dress. It was very rare for you to even leave your home without those two things, and even as you packed your luggage, you threw in a few more rosaries and your bible that was blessed by the Father who preached at your church.

It made you feel safe.

You had three other mates who slept in the same room. They were all different shades of blonde and had freckles that were spread along their nose and cheeks. Two were Swedish and the other was Belgian. They seemed to be friends because they just whispered to one another, but they did tell you their names. Kate, Katelynn, and Katie. All K’s and all the same variations.

The twins were still speaking when you interrupted them.

“I’m sorry, girls.” You interrupted. “But what’s your name? You two never really told me.” You laughed and tilted your head to the side.

“Oh!” One of them squeaked. “I’m Mary!” The girl smiled and stood, putting her hand out for you to shake. And you did. She wore a tan dress with blue ribbons on it. “And that’s Helen!”

Helen waved with a large smile as Mary went and sat next to her. They both began to speak again, and you took a deep breath, pushing yourself back into the bed and grabbing the book you had laid on your pillow.

Before you had left, your sister found a way to get you a new book to read. It was Harriet, the Moses of Her People and from the first few pages, you knew it would be wonderful. You’re not sure how she got the book, she refused to tell you, so you wondered if perhaps she had stolen it.

You didn’t push for an answer, however. You just prayed that she would ask God for forgiveness.

You took a deep breath as the Triple K’s, as you called them, walked up to the end of your bed, looking at you. They were looking over the green book that sat in your hand, one of the girls said something aloud, but you didn’t say anything back.

“What’s that book?” One of them asked and you titled the book down so only your eyes showed. You raised your brows at them before speaking.

“Harriet, the Moses of Her People.”

“Oh,” another said, her voice was higher than the other and she had darker blonde hair. “We should’ve known that.” She said and looked over the girls.

“We would’ve known if we had proper schooling.” The brighter blonde said with an eye roll. “Up to year 3 did nothing for me. I’d be unstoppable if I had full schooling.”

Your eyebrows knitted and the medium blonde chuckled and shook her head, some hair falling in her eyes. “We wouldn’t have been able to even if we wanted to.”

“Why?” You asked and closed the book, sitting up and crossing your legs.

Each one of them looked at each other and then to you, and then at the twins who were in their own world. The darker haired girl spoke.

“My mother and father got ill and I dropped to help care for my family. We had a baby and I was the eldest, so it was my duty to help out and take care of the farm and provide.”

Then it was the medium haired girl.

“I was forced to leave my home, so I just never got back into school. There was an offer from family to get me back, but I never went.”

And then the bright-haired girl spoke up.

“My story is much or less the same as theirs. I was neighbors with Katie when her parents fell ill and so I dropped out to help her. The small one-room school wasn’t much of an ideal place to be for only a few hours. I preferred helping on the farm anyway.”

You nodded in understanding before leaning forward.

“I’m sorry for all of that. I can’t imagine having to do that. I hope all three of your families are doing better.” You smiled and tilted your head downward for a moment. You wiggled your nose a bit and looked back at them. “I don’t want to change the subject, but do you think there’s a dining hall for us? Because we should go ad see!”

The girls looked at one another as a large grin filled their cheeks. They nodded and you quickly got off of the bed before going to the two twins, kneeling in front of them.

“Get your best dresses, girls! We’re going on an adventure.” You giggled and grabbed your suitcase, opening and taking out a plaid skirt. You took off the top skirt, twisting it above your head as everyone quickly changed. You replaced the topper with the new skirt before buttoning the turtleneck lace top all the way up and pulling the pendant to sit in plain sight.

The twins were the first ones ready and then the other girls were ready. You six walked out of the room, Mary and Helen leading you down the hallway where they heard some people speaking about a dining hall.

“Have you three ever had plumbing?” You asked the Triple K’s and they shook their head. “What about heat? Oh, it’s wonderful isn’t it?” You questioned with a giggle and the three nodded in agreement.

“It’s wonderful to not be freezing!” Katie enthused. “Do you think they have that in America?” She asked in a gasp and you only giggled and took a few steps forward ad out of the square you had formed.

“If they don’t, I’ll be disappointed because it’s the land where dreams are made of!” You hummed and twirled a bit, keeping your back to the hall as you looked at the girls. “We’re all going to be rich women and we’ll rule the world!” you laughed before gasping when you ran into a figure.

You stumbled slightly before turning and looking at who you bumped into. The figure was a he and he was beautiful. He looked around your age and he was in an expensive suit. You only are guessing because you had never seen anything like that. Your lips parted as he looked down at your with his brown eyes, and his hand went to the cufflinks before smiling.

“Excuse me,” he said, and your eyebrows lifted.

“I-No! Excuse me, I bumped into you! I’m so sorry, sir!” You apologized and he shook his head, brown curls bouncing slightly.

“It’s quite alri-” he began but someone sat their hand on his shoulder, sighing as he looked over you and the other girls.

“Why don’t we go to the card room, Peter? We shouldn’t be in the presence of peasant girls.” The gray-haired, older man said. Peter looked conflicted before nodding and bowing his head before turning on his heels and leaving.

“Peasant?!” One of the girls, Katelynn, said. “What in the bloody fuck does that mean?” She asked with a curse.

“Language!” Kate responded and hit her arm.

“It means poor.” You explained, still mesmerized by the man you had just met. “It’s a sort of calling someone poor or farmer without saying the words. Someone called me it one day in class.” You explained and took a step forward, your arms sitting on top of your chest.

There was silence between you and the girls before the twins came back.

“We lost you guys!” Helen spoke in a puff.

“But we found the dining hall!” Mary laughed and took Helen's hand before running back towards the dinning hall. The Triple K’s laughed and squealed before rushing past you. You stood in your spot, looking at the figure that was about to disappear around a corner.

The girls had gone quite a way before finally noticing you weren’t following.

“Come on, Y/N!” Katie shouted and you looked at her, smiling and nodding before walking towards her, but you couldn’t help but think of Peter throughout the rest of the night.

[rikyl]

And at last, Gilbert’s first letter to Anne from Toronto.

Written in response to this letter from Anne, in case you missed it. 

(I didn’t have an appropriate screencap, so this is the University of Toronto’s original medical sciences building. Yes, I spent time today reading about early 1900s medical research at U of T because that’s a normal thing to do.)

Dear Anne,

I am so glad for your good fortune to know something of your origins, a topic I know has been weighing on your mind. Your mother sounds lovely, but then, I have found myself partial to studious, fiery redheads—well, one in particular—for quite some time. I wish you could show me, but your impassioned description makes me feel as if I’m in the same room as you, sharing it. If only!

Part of me wishes that I was at Queens with you, but I know that the University of Toronto is where I need to be to learn the most advanced medical science Canada has to offer. Just browsing the course syllabus, I feel invigorated with hope for the profession. You might know that I was only just able to secure a last-minute admission with a recommendation from a friend of Ms. Stacy's. I feel I have you to thank for that as well, since the procession of potato lights you orchestrated several years back ensured Ms. Stacy was able to stay on in Avonlea. I have no idea where I would be now if she had been driven from town, and so I have no idea where I would be without you. You, Anne, have a hand in all my dreams.

I understand why you ripped up my last letter, but in return, I'm not sure I'm going to tell you what was in it, and not just to be contrary. You see, when I wrote it, I thought I might never see you again and I unburdened my soul with all the desperate urgency that entailed. But now we have time—perhaps a whole future to unfold before us—and some things may be better said in person where the words can't be so readily misplaced. In light of recent events, I think you might guess some of the contents anyway, as I have hopefully surmised some of yours. Who knew so much could be communicated so eloquently and so sweetly without words? Maybe we should have tried to correspond that way much sooner.

I know I should have tried something sooner. I was so convinced after our train ride to Charlottetown last year that you didn't care for me at all, and even when you comforted me about Mary, I rationalized that you were just that caring of a person. That night at the ruins, I remember how alive you looked, how your hair flowed free in the firelight, how you listened to me like a true friend. But I can't for the life of me recall any of the specific words you said or how they added up to such a resounding rejection to my ears. Afterward I made up my mind to try to live without you, but as much as I tried, everywhere I turned I found reminders, as if you had touched every rock and leaf and seashell in Avonlea … and most of all me. I have little left of my own mother except for her ring. It's modest—I'm not sure if the green stone is real or a piece of colored glass, but it was hers. When I looked at it, all I could see was the color of your one dress, the one that looks so well with your blazing head of hair, and I knew in my gut it would be wrong to give it to anyone else.

My dear Anne-girl, are you really mine, “most truly”? Just as you pinched yourself, I blinked when I saw those words in your handwriting, unsure I read them correctly. Have I ever been so glad to be wrong? My burning questions now are how, when, why, and what did I do to deserve this waking dream except for wanting it so much and for so long. But I would be happy to receive those answers in the same eloquent form as the one you recently rendered, when next we meet again.

For now, your faithful penmanship is all I ask and I know the rest can wait. But as we both well know how uncertain life can be, how situations can become misconstrued, how a chance can be so nearly missed, I will share at least this in closing. You have

All my love,

Gilbert

PS: That's not nearly everything, but I need to get to class! And I know you would never hold me back from that.

PPS: You looked stunning when I saw you last, but I will miss your two long braids and the barely resistible temptation to tug on one.

[purpleillusn]

Returning After the Reveal

Phic Phight attack 3

Prompt: “A post Phantom-Planet (or post reveal, if you hate PP that much) fic in which Danny is getting used to his new fame and recognition as a superhero. His teachers, classmates, and even former bullies are all suddenly treating him differently, and Danny’s not quite sure what to do with that.” - @love-ly-ish

Words:  7143

Danny pushed his crutches down again, supporting his weight as he made his way over to the X-Ray room. He was pretty sure that he could have walked, but doctor’s orders said he couldn’t, hence the crutches.

Whispers erupted as he traversed the labyrinth of corridors. Onlookers either appeared to be in awe, admirers and fans of his Phantom persona, while others scowled, moving out the way, many fearful of the teen in front of them, or rather his powers. He supposed he hadn’t been expecting anything different, the world probably hadn’t been ready for the existence of halfas, but had been introduced to them anyway.

A mother pulled her child away and close to her chest just as he’d tried to go up to Danny, attempting to shield the boy from him. Danny sighed and his mom placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They entered the room, and Danny lay on the table as per the previous X-Ray, while Maddie joined the radiologist further away. If there was one thing Danny was grateful for in this great big mess of a situation, it was his parents’ unwavering support. Without them kicking up a fuss it would have been entirely possible for the GIW to cart him off to their labs, labelled as an ecto-based threat, while he was unconscious and wounded. Danny suppressed a shudder at that idea.

“Danny, you can come over here now,” called the doctor, a kindly old man who looked somewhat like a walrus.

On the computer screen was Danny’s leg, his tibia and fibula completely intact, just as expected. “Jeez you heal fast, kid. Most people would take months to recover from that,” commented the doctor, clicking into the image to zoom in. “Not even a hairline fracture anymore.”

Danny cringed - he’d had one hell of a compound fracture. On top of that apparently they had to pick fragments of bone out of his leg. Nope, he was not going to imagine that. The surgeons had been slightly freaked out even after he came around post-surgery, his healing factor having caused problems with treating his injuries.

“Does this mean I don’t need crutches now?” Danny asked hopefully, lightly kicking the leg in its brace.

“Yes, you’re free to go. Just don’t go breaking more bones on us,” the doctor chuckled, his belly shaking as he did so.

“No promises,” Danny responded, flashing him a smile before sitting down to phase the cast off his leg. “Uh, so, what do I do with this?” He waved it in the air. This was nice, being able to use his powers around others without having to fear exposure.

Maddie took the cast from him and placed it in the appropriate bin as they left the hospital. “Well, that went well,” she said, trying to maintain an optimistic mood despite the countless pairs of eyes on them, passing their own individual judgement.

Danny muttered something under his breath and Maddie asked him to speak up.

“I’d have preferred for none of this to happen in the first place,” he said barely loud enough for her to hear properly. “I should’ve handled the attack better.”

Maddie sighed. “You can’t be perfect, Danny. I wish you hadn’t got hurt like that, but it’s all we can do to move on from it now. You saved a lot of lives that day, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.”

“So I’ve heard,” Danny said spitefully, immediately resenting himself for taking that tone with his mom. “Sorry, I just-” He trailed off.

“It’s been a stressful few days, hasn’t it?” she said, unlocking the car and opening the door.

Danny mirrored her in opening the door on the passenger side, slipping into his seat. “Yeah.”

They backed out of the parking lot, the sound of tacky pop music coming from the radio while Danny picked at the fabric of his jeans. “Mom? Do you ever have times when you feel you could have done better?”

“Of course I do. Regrets are part of life, and no matter what you do, there’ll always be that nagging voice in your head,” Maddie said as she turned onto the highway.

“How do you deal with it?” Danny enquired.

Maddie glanced at Danny, then cast her eyes back to the road. “I remind myself that my mistakes are in the past, and I can’t change them. Plus focusing on the positives helps, like people you helped and ways you can do better in the future.”

Danny contemplated her words for a few seconds. “Thanks, mom.”

They were now approaching Amity Park, which did not have its own hospital due to the risk of ghost attacks. Craters, Danny-shaped and otherwise, marred the landscape and they passed a sign reading ‘Amity Park: A nice place to-’ The rest of the sign having been destroyed by ectoblasts, leaving it illegible.

Maddie cleared her throat. “But even I have regrets I can’t forgive myself for.”

“Oh,” Danny said, knowing full well where this conversation was heading. They’d had this conversation once already, in which Danny adamantly defended them, though admittedly he had been pretty drugged up then, so he couldn’t blame her for talking about it again. “I still don’t blame you for anything. I chose to lie to you- I shouldn’t have, and there was no way you could’ve guessed that your living son was a ghost.” He breathed before continuing. “You can’t change the past.”

Maddie conceded and continued the drive without bringing it up again, instead choosing to talk about space and recent developments in astronomy and astrophysics.

They stopped in the driveway of the Fenton house, now with a metal fence to fend off rabid reporters, fans and those who despised Danny and his entire family. They’d probably have to upgrade the security system at some point soon, but for now it would do.

The house was a lot cleaner than the night of the ghost attack, but was still somewhat disheveled, albeit without fragments of glass around the place now. “Good to see you Danny-boy!” Jack engulfed Danny in a one armed hug, his left arm being covered in bandages. “Can’t keep you down, eh?”

Danny chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Speaking of which, Danny, we’ll need to do a check up on your core,” Maddie interjected, catching Danny off guard with how naturally the words came from her mouth. They seemed to be adjusting about as well as one could to the revelation that their son’s half ghost, going so far as to lock up their most powerful weapons and program all of the inventions they could to ignore Danny’s ectosignature, including the ghost gabber, much to Danny’s delight. Sam and Tucker had managed to convince the Fenton parents that separating Danny’s ghost and human halves would be a terrible idea by explaining the Fenton ghost catcher incident, that and it didn’t take a scientist to know that ripping away part of someone’s body wasn’t good for them. If Danny was healthy and happy, that’s all that mattered to them.

The core check-up went similarly to an X-Ray, just in the lab, and with a different machine.

Danny pulled his t-shirt over his head, ignoring the fact that his hair was now even more messy than usual, and walked over to the computer screen displaying the scan.

A look at the display wouldn't mean much to someone without knowledge of ectobiology, but both the Fenton parents and Danny could see that it had thousands of tiny marks of damage, like the tears that form in a muscle after excess exertion.

“It looks like it’s healing. See? Snowfang was right,” said Danny.

Snowfang, the head doctor in the Far Frozen, had assured them that it would heal with time, as long as Danny did not overexert himself again.. Naturally the Fenton parents had still been worried, and coming up with ways to aid healing.

His dad grinned at him, while his mom had an unreadable expression of thought.

“You’ll still have to drink ectoplasm until you’re better,” she ordered, before quickly adding, “but maybe don’t bring it to school tomorrow.”

Crud. School. Danny cringed at the thought of his phan club following him around. “I’m not sure if I want to go back there. I mean, what if people…”

Maddie crouched slightly to be eye to eye with Danny. “It’ll be fine, just give it a try, okay? And if it’s too much for you, or you get bullied, we can always look into home education.”

Danny nodded, eyes downcast.

The ring of the doorbell pierced through the quiet and momentarily drowned out the whir of machines from every angle of the basement.

Jack was the first to reach the door, opening it only to remember that there was also a tall metal fence and gate between the street and the living room. “Jazzypants! Elle!” he bellowed as he opened the gate, letting two girls in. Elle gave him as much of a hug as her short arms could manage, channelling some ghost powers to jump up. Jack patted Danielle’s back and closed the gate. Danny’s face lit up at the sight of his adoptive sister, now dubbed ‘Elle’ both to avoid confusion and due to her sense of individuality, still clinging onto their dad as he came back into the house. The adoption would be going through quickly after they’d ‘convinced’ Vlad that it was best to let them adopt her and for him to leave her alone. It hardly seemed like she’d only lived with them for less than a week, yet that was undeniably the truth.

Elle, grinning broadly, dropped to the floor. “Hey, Danny, you’re all better?”

Danny made a more or less gesture with his hand. “Pretty much.”

Jazz announced her presence by dumping a large bag of books on the floor with a thud. “Well, that’s book shopping done.”

Danny glanced at the bag, stunned. “Did you buy the entire bookstore?”

“Ha, ha,” Jazz deadpanned. “Elle’s starting Middle School in September, that’s only five months away, so she’ll need to catch up on any material she missed out on by then.”

Elle was less excited by the idea of school, and instead pulled out a book titled ‘How much poo does an elephant do?’. “I got to choose some books I wanted too.”

•     •     •

Sweat poured from Danny’s brow as he tried his best to hold up the beams of a near-collapsed building while the last inhabitants ran for safety. After the last person escaped, guided away by Maddie and Jack Fenton, he intangibly passed through the building, letting it collapse through him, and turned his attention to the gruesome ghost currently being shot at while trying to chase down the Red Huntress. She looked worse for wear, her suit not repairing the scratches in it like it typically did. The fight had been drawn out for too long, and everyone knew it, but the ghost just didn’t seem to have a weak spot, all shots ricocheting off its armored skin. And worst of all it had a fire core, leaving the pavement melted under it with each step it made.

“Oi! Ugly!” Danny shrieked, a lot more shrilly than he than he originally intended. The taunt had the exact effect Danny wanted, all of the dozen or so eyes of the beast turning towards him and narrowing. Its nostrils flared, and it made a beeline for Danny, stomping down anything that stood in its way.

Calling on the power of his own core, Danny sent out a blast of ice, which encased the ghost for mere seconds before melting under the extreme heat of its flaming breath. Danny created an energy shield, doing his best to block the attack, his palms burning as the fire was redirected around him and into the building, exciting the embers floating in the air and on the ground.  

The flames stopped abruptly as yet another fighter flew into the fray, blasting the beast in the side. “Leave my cousin alone!” Elle yelled, unleashing another energy ball, which knocked the creature back.

It was then that Danny saw something, a weakness, an opening. The ghost opened its mouth and Danny took this opportunity to shoot a beam on ice into it, giving the ghost the worst possible case of brain freeze experienced by any being. Without hesitation, Danny tackled the ghost to the ground, glancing up at Valerie who was pulling out her thermos.

Unfortunately, Danny really should have kept his attention on the ghost, as it grabbed him by the leg in its vice-like grip and hurled him into the rubble of the building he’d been trying to hold up just a minute earlier. A sickening crunch of bone shattering could be heard as Danny’s body crashed against the hot concrete and brick. He tried to climb to his feet, only to realise that one of his legs was practically snapped in two, and instead hovering weakly. Elle flew over to him like a rocket, putting an arm under his shoulder to support him, seeing his exhaustion.

Danny evaluated the situation, noting that the ghost appeared to be much more sluggish, cracks showing in its skin, revealing what looked to be swirling magma underneath.

“Cover your ears! Now!” he shouted and unleashed an unearthly wail, rippling through the air, peeling through the armor of the ghost with each wave that came its way.

Danny collapsed, ears ringing, desperately fighting back white rings while Elle held him just above the ground.

A blue light engulfed the magma ghost in front of them, and the Red Huntress landed, hoverboard retracting into the soles of her shoes, now-full thermos in her hand. “Phantom? I just wanted to say thank you, both of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Danny offered her a tired smile before falling into the black, a ring of light passing over his head as he dropped like a rock.

Danny awoke with a start, glancing at the time on his alarm clock: 6:45 am. Could be worse. Of course he’d just had to have that dream, that memory again the night before school. The universe was simply unkind to halfas - not even permitting them to sleep until their alarm would have gone off.

He dropped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, figuring that if he was going to face his possible doom today, he might as well be presentable while doing so. The cold shower was nice - just another reminder that he was weird. Jazz always complained that he’d left it on the cold temperature when she went to shower.

Speaking of Jazz, she was already downstairs when Danny entered the kitchen. “Ready to go back to school, little brother?”

“No, not really” Danny sighed as he poured a bowl of cereal for himself, reminding him of the day when he’d almost told his parents his secret early on after being picked up by the ghost detector.

“I’ll be with you when we go there,” Jazz comforted. “Take deep breaths and try to focus on what could go well today.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Thanks.”

The Fenton parents came into the kitchen soon after, one from downstairs, and the other with a very grumpy looking Elle - apparently she was not a morning person. Maddie guided the sleep deprived halfa to the table, and she immediately brightened up at the prospect of breakfast, inhaling a bowl of Cookie Crisp.

“Remember your ectoplasm,” Maddie said to the half ghosts, placing a glass of the glowing green liquid in front of each of them, much to Danny’s chagrin. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, it was just weird, like sweet tasting batteries that prickled his tongue with its energy.

Elle seemed not to have inherited Danny’s dislike of the sensation, and downed her glass like orange juice. This was just one of the many differences between them that she had embraced, along with her love of toast.

Danny sipped his ectoplasm, reminding himself that it was just filtered from the atmosphere of the zone.

“What does it taste like?” Jack asked, like a curious puppy. He knew better than to try and drink some himself - ectoplasm was decidedly not suitable for human consumption. The only reason halfas could drink it was because their biology was different to a human’s on the molecular level.

“Kinda like honey charged with electricity,” Danny answered before taking another gulp of it.

“It’s nice,” Elle chimed in. “Danny’s just not used to it - that’s why he’s scared of drinking it.”

Danny shot her a playful glare and glugged the rest of the glass, which she cackled at.

The energy rippled through his core, like a concentrated energy drink, which wasn’t actually far off the mark as a description of it.

Jack hummed, and began tinkering with an invention he’d been working on on the side for the time Danny had been hospitalised. It was a small plastic wristband, with a glowing green light and small amounts of exposed circuitry where he’d unscrewed a panel on it. It was slightly rough looking, but for something thrown together over just a few days, it was impressive.

The band was a failsafe, in case the school had concerns about him harming other students that could not be remedied by their word - it suppressed Danny’s powers, namely his ectoblasts. It wasn’t great, but if worst came to worst it at least wouldn’t hurt Danny.

Pocketing the band, Jack and the rest of his family, including Elle, who was still worried that Vlad might come for her, clambered into the Fenton family RV (Maddie was driving as it was decided that property damage would not make a good impression).

They reached the school too early for Danny’s liking, and he wiped his clammy palms on his jeans before exiting the vehicle.

Mr Lancer was waiting outside, visibly surprised that nothing had been destroyed while parking until he noticed that Maddie had been driving. He shook the Fenton parents’ hands, and guided the family into the building.

Danny noticed the news van was parked in the road by the school, evidently not allowed onto school property, but figured it was best to ignore it - he’d honestly expected far more people following him around, but apparently he’d passed out of the news with the next big thing.

The early students gawked as the group passed them through the corridors on their way to Mr Lancer’s office, but Danny once again did his best to ignore it.

The office door was agape, and Principal Ishiyama was sat in a small plastic chair next to Mr Lancer’s desk. Mr Lancer closed the door after the group, sitting down in his worn padded chair and indicating to the plastic chairs arranged by the entrance. He surveyed the odd group as they lowered themselves to their chairs, eyes lingering momentarily on Elle, taking in the unfamiliar, yet familiar face.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, there has been protesting against Daniel returning to school,” Mr Lancer began, voice steady and calm, as if talking about any other issue at school, “however, we, as a school, and as people, will not discriminate against an individual based on their, biology. I am glad to see you healthy Daniel, and would like to make it very clear that you are welcome at this school.

“Your teachers, myself included are prepared to give you leeway and accommodate your ghost hunting. We do expect that you work hard to keep up with class work, and attend extra sessions if necessary, but you will not be punished for leaving lessons to deal with ghost attacks. I’m well aware that you are capable of doing well, and all you need to do if ask for help whenever you feel that you’re falling behind.”

Danny was ectatic. This was too good to be true! “Thank you Mr Lancer! I will.”

Ishiyama took this moment to interject. “But, we do have some restrictions we would like you to follow.”

Of course. There was always a catch.

“You are not allowed to abuse your privileges, and if it is found that you have been skipping class without a good reason there will be appropriate punishment. Additionally, you are not allowed to use your abilities to cheat or harm others. We do not take this lightly, and doing this could get you expelled from the school.”

Danny flinched imperceptibly at the mention of cheating.

“We will not stop you from using your powers altogether though. You may use what non-destructive or harmful powers you have as you feel comfortable with, we trust that you can use your judgement as to what is appropriate.”

“That sounds reasonable,” said Danny, relaxing slightly. “I promise I won’t hurt others, and I definitely won’t cheat.”

This seemed to satisfy the Principle, who smiled at the family. “Well then, enjoy your day. I believe lessons will be starting in fifteen minutes. Please ask myself or Mister Lancer if you have any questions.”

And with that Ishiyama pardoned herself from the room, leaving the family with just Mr Lancer, who shuffled a small stack of papers.

“One last thing, Daniel,” Mr Lancer called out to Danny as he went to stand up from his chair. “My door is always open if you need to talk about anything.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer!” Danny smiled up at his teacher, and left the office with the rest of his family.

“That went well,” commented Maddie, and Jack nodded enthusiastically. “We should really go home now. See you later, you two. I know you both find kisses embarrassing, so have a good day.”

“Bye,” both Danny and Jazz chorused.

“Enjoy your day of hell!” Elle shouted after them, a grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

“Same to you!” Danny yelled back as she rounded the corner and out of view.

Jazz and Danny said their goodbyes and went off to their respective lessons early. Waiting outside the science lab, Danny couldn’t help but keep an eye on every face that passed in the mass of students getting to class. His face lit up when he saw Sam and Tucker approach him through the crowd, their faces brightening an equal amount at the sight of their friend healthy and happy.

“Yo, how are you?” Tucker greeted, giving Danny a high five.

“Good. I’m all healed, and the school seems to be okay with me being here,“Danny replied. “What about you?”

“Pretty good. How’re your folks taking the reveal?”

“Great. They’re happy I’m going into ghost hunting, and they seem to have accepted my ghost half. They even adopted Elle!” Danny was practically bursting with joy, and it warmed the others through.

“Oh yeah, we saw her with your parents on the way in. She looks really happy - I guess she’s settling in well,” said Sam, smiling far too brightly for her goth aesthetic.

“Excuse me,” a small voice came from the right, and the trio turned to see Mikey, a small red haired boy, standing there timidly, with his nerdy friends behind him. “I, uh, I wanted to say thank you - for all the times you’ve saved us.”

Danny was dumbfounded. People knowing his not-so-secret identity was going to take some getting used to. “Um, no problem. I just did what anyone would do.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, how do your ghost powers work?” Mikey asked rapidly. “Are you a ghost? Does this mean you’re dead? You’re not dead, right?” He looked slightly horrified.

“Of course he’s not dead!” Sam said abruptly, the guilt of the accident gnawing at the back of her mind. The nerds flinched.

“What Sam said, I’m not dead, or at least I don’t think I am,” Danny spoke. “I’m not entirely sure how my powers work, we think I’m half ghost - um, when I got my powers, I think ectoplasm got bonded to my DNA or something.” Danny didn’t want to go into specifics of how he got his ghost powers. The memory was slightly traumatic, and he really didn’t want to risk others attempting to repeat it - that was dangerous, and painful.

“Woah, that’s so cool! Is it like a comic book origin story?”

“That’s enough.” Sam cut Mikey off, and he shrunk back.

The teacher soon emerged from the classroom to shepard the students to their seats. Mrs Bray, the strict, rule-abiding chemistry teacher, with a glare that could melt concrete, sat in her chair, back straight as the pole that was probably stuck up her butt. She read out the register, each student replying with a ‘yes miss’, until she reached Danny’s name and mutters broke out among the students. Her eye twitched, but she continued the register after Danny confirmed his presence

Once the register was over, she stood before the board, and took a breath before her lecture.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr Fenton has been revealed to be somewhat of a celebrity, however, I would like you to respect his privacy, and there will be no discussion of him or anything of the sort in my classroom. I expect you to focus on your work, and nothing else while you’re here. Am I understood?”

“Yes miss,” came the drone of thirty or so students brought an odd sense of relief to Danny. In her own way, his teacher was showing her support, preventing others from pestering him during class. Unfortunately, she could not stop the glances that were sent his way throughout the lesson. Dash in particular seemed to be staring the most, a guilty expression on his face. Oh, Danny was probably going to have an awkward conversation after class, unless he turned invisible to escape, but that would probably just draw more attention to him.

Valerie, on the other hand, appeared to have a swirl on emotions passing behind her eyes as she occasionally glanced at Danny, as though wanting to talk to him, which she of course did. Okay, so that was going to be two awkward conversations after the lesson.

As the teacher told people to pack up, Danny psyched himself up for what awaited him out of Mrs Bray’s classroom. Valerie was aggressively stuffing her bag, and Danny feared what she’d do once they were out of the classroom. Scenarios passed through his head, each of them involving a way in which Danny’s life, or rather the next few minutes of his life, could go wrong.

The instant they were out the classroom a hand grabbed Danny’s arm and dragged him to the janitor’s closet. Valerie stood there, somehow seeming sad, worried and majorly pissed off, all the while managing not to scream. Sam and Tucker burst in, quickly tailing after the ghost boy. “Hey, Valerie, don’t do anything rash,” Sam implored, “wait, are you crying?”

Pearlescent tears were trailing down from Valerie’s eyes, and she wiped them away with her arm. “Tell anyone I’ve cried and you’re dead!” Valerie snapped.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” placated Sam. “Do you want us to leave so you can talk to Danny?”

Valerie shook her head. “No, stay, please.” She almost pleaded towards the end, the emotional strain from the past week bubbling to the surface.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For hunting you, for blaming you for everything that went wrong in my life,” Valerie cried quietly.

“It’s fine, Val I’m sorry for lying to you for all this time.” She looked up to see Danny putting a hand on her shoulder, ice blue eyes radiating comfort. Valerie shook her head again, a lot more violently than she intended to.

“I didn’t exactly give you much choice, did I?”

Danny just shrugged. The bell telling them lessons were starting chose that moment to go off, and panic quickly spread through the group before they conceded themselves to their fate of being late to English.

“Y’know, now would be a great time for a ghost attack we can blame for us being late to class.” Danny tried to lighten the mood, but quickly regretted it when his ghost sense went off - his face falling as the blue mist swirled into the air in front of him at the same time as Valerie’s ghost detector going off. “Okay, I was kidding, but I should probably take care of this.” He suddenly looked nervous. “Want to team up on this one, Val?”

Valerie looked taken aback. “What? You trust me just like that?”

“Well, yeah. You are my friend - our friend.” Danny corrected himself seeing Sam and Tucker opening their mouths to correct him on that point. “Danny’s right,” Tucker said, leaning against the closet door to listen out for the ghost attack.

Sam continued, “as much as I may have been reluctant to admit it, you have become a friend over this time. And by the way, we’ve known about your ghost hunting since the beginning - at the park. You might want to consider getting something to mask your voice if you want to keep a secret identity.”

Valerie felt a blush flush into the cheeks. “You got it,” she said, checking the radar on her ghost detector as she did so. “It’s by the sports hall. I’m new to this teamwork stuff, what do you three do about ghost attacks?”

“Uh, do you two want to handle this one?” Tucker’s hand clasped the door handle. “We can go tell Mr Lancer why you’re late.”

“I’m guessing you want us to keep your ghost hunting a secret Valerie,” Sam asked rhetorically. “We can just tell Mr Lancer that you’re helping Danny out or something and leave it at that.”

“Sounds good to me,” Valerie said, activating her suit, covering her face last. Tucker gave a low whistle at the show of electronics, and glanced to Danny, who seemed unfazed by her suit. Of course he was, this kid had seen it all before.

Seeing that Valerie was comfortable enough in his presence to activate her suit, Danny went ghost, rings of blinding white travelling across his body. Valerie’s mouth was practically on the floor - this much was evident even with her mask. Danny Phantom floated opposite her, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“Ta-da,” he quipped, and Valerie collected herself enough to notice that Sam and Tucker were snickering at her reaction. They quickly scampered off to Mr Lancer’s lesson, and Danny extended his hand to Valerie.

“Wanna try navigating like a ghost?” he asked, eyes twinkling like stars.

She took his gloved hand, and screamed as she was whisked along through the wall. A feeling like being submerged in icy water sent a shiver down Valerie’s spine. Noticing her reaction, Danny landed on the other side of the wall in an empty classroom. “Sorry, I really should have warned you about that.”

“No, it’s fine - just felt cold,” Valerie tried to quell the expression of guilt that had wormed its way into Danny’s face. It was still weird seeing Phantom as Danny, even if his reveal had been caught on camera and broadcast on live TV. There was something innately wrong about seeing your friend as a ghost, and the odd glow he had to his skin didn’t help make him look like the human Danny Fenton she’d known., illuminating his features oddly and making him appear almost as a completely different person.

“Oh, yeah.” Danny fiddled with the hair on the back of his neck. “I kinda forgot - Sam and Tucker are both used to it, and I don’t normally make others intangible.”

“Really, it’s fine. Let’s go find that ghost before it hurts someone,” Valerie insisted.

Danny nodded with renewed determination, and took her hand again tentatively before turning them intangible again and speeding off towards the gym.”

This was certainly different to flying on a hoverboard, Valerie thought to herself. A hoverboard at least somewhat obeyed gravity - ghost flight, not at all. She could somehow feel the movement while at the same time not feeling anything at all, but it was fun nonetheless.

They arrived at the gym’s storage room in a matter of seconds, and another plume of blue mist emerged from Danny’s mouth, indicating that the ghost was near.

“BEWARE!”

The Box Ghost was levitating a crate full of footballs in the air, features alight with  menacing glee. He hurled the contents of the crate at the pair of ghost hunters, not realising that Danny had yet to drop his intangibility. Valerie flinched, Danny grinned, and the balls flew right through them. “Want to do the favors?” Danny indicated to the chubby ghost in front of them, now lifting a box of rackets.

“With pleasure.” Valerie activated a moderately sized gun that materialised in her hand, hitting the Box Ghost square in the butt.

He yowled and spun around just in time to be caught in the beam of the Fenton Thermos. He looked like a fat spider being sucked down the plughole, and the onlookers were torn between pity and entertainment at the sight.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,”Danny stated, landing firmly next to Valerie on the floor of the storage room, avoiding the balls scattered across it. “Should we tidy up the mess?”

Valerie looked surprised, recalling the copious amounts of property damage and mess both of them had created in the past.

Reading her expression, Danny explained. “I’ve been wanting to test out a new power, and this is a small enough scale that it should be fine.”

“You have a tidying-up power?” Valerie asked, eyebrow cocked, not that Danny could see it all that easily with her visor.

Danny chuckled, picking up on the heavy sarcasm laced in her tone, and his aura seemed to spark, every one of the balls in the vicinity gaining a bright green aura of their own and lifting into the air. He concentrated, eyebrows knitting together as the footballs drifted into the crate, all but one landing neatly inside it, which then lifted up as well and placed itself in its usual spot on the floor.

“Woah,” Valerie stood next to him stunned while he panted. “Was that telekinesis?”

Danny’s breathing went back to a more normal pace, still considerably deeper than usual. “Yeah. It’s something that most ghosts can do, but I only learnt it recently. As you can see…” He picked up the remaining football with his hand. “I need more practice, but it could be really useful.”

Valerie hummed. “You could use it to get people out of the way of debris, or stop the debris in midair.”

“That’s exactly why I want to perfect this skill.”

Valerie’s mind flashed back to Danny supporting the collapsing building, and she understood fully how important learning this new power was to him.

The two entered the classroom after a somewhat leisurely flight in the direction of the classroom and a stop in a closet to change out of their suit, and into their human form respectively. Mr Lancer stopped his lecture as the door opened, and every head in the room swiveled round to face the late duo.

“Mr Foley and Miss Manson already explained,” Mr Lancer said. “You can speak to me after class if there’s anything you need to catch up on that you missed in your absence.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer.” Danny kept his head down as he made his way over to his seat, which of course had to be practically in the middle of the classroom. He could feel almost every eye in the room boring into his head as he settled down and brought out his books and pencil case. Chatter erupted amongst the students, and Mr Lancer sighed in defeat, knowing that having a ghost hunting ghost as a classmate had not lost its novelty with all the news coverage.

“How’d it go?” Sam asked, leaning over from her seat, taking advantage of the sudden stop to the lesson.

“Fine, it was just the Box Ghost,” Danny dismissed.

“And Valerie was fine?” she hissed, barely over a whisper.

“Yeah, she seems fine with the whole Phantom thing,” Danny replied in a very slightly louder voice, if only so Sam could hear him (she didn’t have the luxury of super-hearing). “She was kinda shocked by the feeling of intangibility, but it’s not a big deal.”

Sam shivered involuntarily. “I can understand that,” she said, still wary of the ghost hunting girl but willing to put aside her hostility and protectiveness for now.

The lesson continued as per usual after Mr Lancer managed to get control of the class again with a cry of “The Adventures of Huck Finn” and continued with his lecture. They didn’t actually finish all the work from that lesson before lunch, but it was good going considering the circumstances.

Lunch was a whole other challenge for Team Phantom, and the trio chose to bag lunch it outside out of fear of being mobbed.

“Dead Teacher 2 is still the best,” Danny said, leaning against the tree they were sat under, mouth half full.

Sam quickly chastised him for talking with his mouth full, before arguing to the contrary, saying that the 1st movie was the best without a doubt.

“I’m with Danny,” Tucker contributed to the conversation, “the second movie was really where they perfected it. Oh, hey Valerie!”

“Hi,” greeted Valerie, walking towards the group, lunch bag clasped close to her body. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Sam and Tucker shuffled around to allow her into their circle, and she seated herself on the grass. “So, uh, what’re you guys talking about?”

“Which Dead Teacher movie’s the best,” Sam supplied. “These two think that the second’s the best, even though the first’s obviously better.”

“I haven’t watched the latest ones, but the first one is definitely better than the second.” Valerie opened her bag and fished out a sandwich.

“Betrayal!” Tucker exclaimed, mock fainting with his arm to his forehead.

Sam punched him lightly on his lowered arm, which prompted a cry from the boy. He rubbed his arm and shot her a playful glare, which she returned, complete with a grin.

Valerie observed their antics, somehow feeling like there was more of a sense of unity between her and the trio now that their secrets were out in the open.

“Oh, yeah, Val,” Danny said, sitting up straight. “How’d you like to join Team Phantom?”

“That’s your team name?” She raised an eyebrow and Danny just shrugged. “Sure, but that’ll take some explaining as to why I’m working with you.”

Danny waved off her concerns. “It’ll be fine. We can just say we talked if anyone asks.”

Valerie shook her head mockingly. “How the hell did you keep your secret for as long as you did?”

“We’re pretty sure it was just dumb luck,” interjected Tucker, “emphasis on dumb.”

“What was dumb luck?” an obnoxiously loud voice came from the direction of the school building, and Dash Baxter and his cronies approached them.

The trio tensed, ready for a confrontation, only for Dash to raise his hands in a sign of peace. He suddenly looked a lot smaller, nerves showing through his veneer of toughness.

“I’m sorry, for everything I’ve done to you. If I’d known I was bullying my hero…” Dash’s eyes remained fixed on the ground, inspecting the blades of grass with a pitiful expression, like they’d personally killed his family, which in Amity Park wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’d happened.

“We’re all sorry, dude. We couldn’t’ve known that you were-” one of the cronies was cut off by Danny.

“I forgive you, but you should bully anyone in the first place.” Danny folded his arms, looking at each of them in turn with a forced hard expression. It really looked odd on his baby face, but Dash and co seemed intimidated nonetheless.

They muttered between each other, before turning to face Danny again with guilty expressions. “We’ll try not to,” Dash said, and Danny unfolded his arms.

“Can you leave us alone?” Valerie demanded, not even trying to hide her hostility.

The bully gang exchanged glances before returning to the main building.

“I can’t believe you’d forgive them just like that. You know they only apologised because you’re Phantom, right?” Val scolded, and Danny looked like a wounded puppy at her words.

“I know, but I don’t want to be a douche,” Danny shrunk back from her.

Sam snorted. “What he’s trying to say is that he doesn’t hold grudges, even when he should, and forgives far to easily, like he’d trying to be some sort of paragon.” Danny scowled.

The rest of the day passed largely uneventfully, if you ignored the frequent whispers, nervous faces and admirers coming to apologise to Danny, thank him, or ask how he got superpowers - something that he declined to answer fully, leading to word quickly spreading that people should stop asking about that because it was rude to ask how a ghost died, which wasn’t entirely wrong, just not the whole reason for why it was a touchy subject for Danny.

All in all, it wasn’t half as bad as Danny had been expecting. It was actually somewhat anticlimactic in his opinion.  

He sent a brief text, saying that he was going to talk to Mr Lancer because he missed some of the lesson, to his parents and knocked on the classroom door.

Mr Lancer answered the door, smiling at the halfa. “Daniel. Can I help you?”

Danny shuffled his feet. “Uh, I kinda wanted to catch up on the stuff I missed at the start of your lesson. Why did Arthur Conan Doyle have a recap at the start of the chapter?”

His teacher smiled, and invited him into the classroom, where Danny seated himself at the front of the empty classroom. “The Sherlock Holmes stories were initially serialized in magazines, each chapter in a different magazine, before they were compiled into complete books, so he would frequently recap the story for the sake of readers who may have forgotten the events of the previous chapters.”

Danny nodded, and took notes in his workbook.

“Is there anything else you wanted to ask?” Mr Lancer continued as Danny put his book back in his bag.

“No thanks,” Danny said, zipping up his bag. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all, Danny,” Mr Lancer replied. “How was your first day back at school?”

“A lot better than I expected. I think I’ll be fine here.”

“That’s certainly good to hear.”

Danny made for the door, only to stop when Lancer called out to him. “And remember, my door’s always open if you need to talk.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer.” Danny radiated a cool warmth from his beaming features. “Bye, see you tomorrow.”

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Hello! Are you still maybe-doing fic tidbits? Since it's that time of year and you reblogged the Sense8 post, I'd love to see Magnus's history at Pride. Especially if he ends up bringing Alec, because the poor boy has literally zero knowledge of gay rights history or contact w/ other gay pp (besides Underhill).

HAHA HERE’S A BIT OF PRIDE FOR YOU:

“Are you ready?” Magnus asks, beaming, his face fingerpainted in rainbow stripes, dragged from his forehead, over his right eye and down on to his cheek. He grins. He bleached a section of his bangs things morning and converted the color a perfect set of rainbow steaks to match. He looks ridiculous. He looks stunning. It’s almost enough to distract Alec. “Well?”

“I feel like you’re hyping this up too much,” Alec says. He, unlike Magnus, is not coloring his face with Crayola colors and is a little nervous about Magnus doing it. He won’t admit that though, so he soldiers on. “I’m gonna get there and be underwhelmed because you’re way too hype.”

“I feel like I can hype this up as much as I want to because I waited a million years for this kind of thing to be acceptable and I’m still thrilled about it. Don’t rain on my parade.” Then he looks absolutely delighted with himself for using the word ‘parade’ in a tangentially related sentence and Alec has to just stand there and weather the aftermath with a spartan stoicism fit for temple martyrs. “You see what I did there?”

“I swear to god, let’s just go.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says, dragging his name into a low comfort. He catches Alec’s hand, slotting his fingers neatly into his and squeezing. “If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to –”

Alec gamely grabs a rainbow-striped baseball cap from the kitchen table (presently stacked with a wide variety of brightly colored apparel) and jams it on his head. Magnus kind of blinks at him, standing there in his black muscle shirt and jeans, looking absolutely nervous-grumpy in a rainbow hat and Alec can see him visibly wondering if he should still let Alec off the hook. Except that seems to disappoint the warlock more than Alec knows what to do with, the fact that he’s so uncomfortable with something Magnus is so clearly excited about.ds

“Hey,” he says, grabbing Magnus’ wrists, gathering his hands into his. He squeezes his hands reassuringly. “It’ll be great. I just want to go with you, okay?”

“You don’t have to, Alec. Seriously.” He’s using his serious voice and everything. “I know this is still pretty new for you. I am perfectly fine staying in and –”

“No,” Alec interrupts. “No. You said you’re meeting people there. I want go. It’s fine.” He gives the warlock a lop-sided grin. “I mean, it’s not like going to your parade thing is gonna make me, you know, gayerat the Institute at this point. I think they know, Magnus.” And then, when Magnus remains somewhat reserved despite this, Alec reaches up and grabs a fistful of the black and rainbow T-shirt Magnus is wearing, the one he cut the sleeves out of and is looking very good in. “They know because I made out with you in front like fifty people.”

Magnus snorts. “Okay, okay. I really appreciate it.”

“Why’s it so important to you?”

“Alec, I was—” he hesitates for a moment— “lucky enough in some ways to have been raised to be unapologetic about who I am, but I always had the power to protect myself from anyone who didn’t like it.” He closes his eyes, dropping his chin to look at their interlocked hands. “The world’s always in flux. There were times that it was easier to be bisexual than it was to be Indonesian and times where nothing could have been more dangerous. I think it’s important to mark the times and… show your colors so to speak.”

He kind of smiles, but it’s a drawn kind of expression.

“So many of us never got that chance.”

Alec gently slips his fingers under Magnus’ chin, lifting his face. He waits until Magnus meets his eyes.

“I’m not hiding, Magnus. I know what I am and who you are. I love you. I’d put it on a goddamn billboard if that would make you happy and if anyone, ever, tries to tell you you can’t be who you are then you won’t have to use your magic to make them back off.” He leans down, carefully kissing his boyfriend, moving one hand to cup the warlock’s cheek before pulling back. “Because if anyone messes with you, I’ll mess them up.”

Magnus chuckles, grinning up at Alec.

“My knight in shining armor,” he says dryly.

“Hey, just because you can light things on fire with your mind doesn’t mean I can’t mess someone up in your honor.”

Magnus snaps his fingers and the air behind him bends, shudders, then spirals backward until it collapses into a vortex tunneling to what looks like the mouth of an alleyway somewhere in the city. He doesn’t say anything else. He just takes Alec’s hand and they step through the tunnel, Magnus pulling him into a sudden blaring raucous of cheering and music.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling the shadowhunter through the crowd.

Magnus’ hair and facepaint seem very mild suddenly because everywhere all around them the shouting, happy crowds are decked in color, bright with it, absolutely glowing with it. And suddenly they step off the curb into a flow of people and in this river of humanity massive parade floats are rolling lazily toward the downtown. There’s too much going on honestly: there a pair of girls on a tandem bicycle doing donuts in an intersection, music is roaring from a PA system somewhere, there’s a marching band dressed in rainbow stripes, there’s costumes, people yelling and through all that chaos Magnus still has his hand latched to Alec’s.

“You okay?” Magnus is looking at him.

There’s a giant papier-mâché float vomiting confetti behind him and somewhere up the street a chat is going up, “LOVE WINS MOTHERFUCKER. LOVE WINS MOTHERFUCKER. LOVE WINS MOTHERFUCKER,” before dissolving into a roar of cheers and thrown fists. Alec has no idea what’s going on honestly. He just knows there are two girls with their arms around one another and a man with confetti in his beard fondly kissing his equally lumber-jack like partner. There’s a Spanish woman in a red dress dancing by the curb, interlocked with beautiful Chinese person that could be a women or maybe not.

And Magnus is still holding his hand.

“Alec?” He looks concerned. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says. The he pulls Magnus back to him, hard, hard enough the warlock kind of yelps and falls into his chest where Alec can grab hold of him, hold him there, staring up at him in surprise. “Much better,” he says.

Then he kisses him and he kisses him and he keeps kissing him until Magnus is gripping two fistfuls of his shirt and gasping. Alec is vaguely aware of people around them, how they barely even notice or care. Alec Lightwood stands in the middle of the streets of New York, a parade of chaos moving around him, and he kisses Magnus Bane. He’s messing up his makeup, it’s on his lips and on his fingers, color on his tongue but Magnus doesn’t seem to mind it. He swallows the taste of it, swallows the sound of Magnus saying, raggedly, against his mouth, d“I love you. I love you, Alec—”

Alec loses his hat somewhere in the crowd of course. 

It’s a good day.

[judelaw]

Hi I feel like being nosy feel free to ignore if you want. But when did you start liking Jude, was there a certain role that made you notice him, what made it click for you?! Did you like any celebrities before him? Sorry I just love hearing stories about how people started liking their favorites!

(I take every opportunity I can get to talk about Jude in any way so don’t worry lmao)

My only other real celebrity crush before Jude was J/ohnny D/epp but tbh looking back, I think I only really liked Captain Jack Sparrow, I just projected my love onto the real life person when I was 13. The crush thankfully only lasted for a few month anyway.

When I was 15, I then watched Sherlock Holmes (2009) on DVD and immediately fell in love with Watson. Firstly because he is hot obviously, but when Watson immediately risked his own life to save Holmes’, I fell head over heels for him. It was also great to finally connect a face to the name Jude Law, which I obviously grew up with but since I never really cared about celebrities (and still don’t lmao), I never knew what he looked like — technically speaking. Because the first film I ever saw with him was A.I. but I was only like 7 or 8 back then and my focus was rather on the talking Teddy Bear.

However, at the age of 15, I was still too deep into my anime phase, so even though I told my self I’d check the Sherlock Holmes stories and other Jude Law films out, I never did. Not until almost a year later that is. In spring 2011, I finally started reading the Sherlock Holmes stories (as my love for Watson was my priority) and one faithful evening went to Wikipedia to choose a Jude Law film I could watch. I decided to watch Repo Men and tbh I’ve been in love with this dork ever since. I went through the entire procedure of slowing going through his entire filmography, watching his interviews, reading up about him etc pp. Still I’d say in 2011/12 I was ““““just”“““ a fan, who did go to the cinema to solely watch a film because Jude Law is in it but I wasn’t near the stan level I am today.

Of course I did notice how ridiculously good looking he is at first, since a person’s physical appearance is usually the thing we notice before anything else, but I quickly managed to see way, way more than that in him (and it actually upsets me that some people still not manage to get over his looks and their prejustice against people who are good looking, reducing him to being just pretty and don’t care to see the fantastic, hard-working, dedicated actor and incredibly humble, intelligent and kind nerd — but at the end of the day that’s their loss ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s hard to pin down when exactly I became that mess I am today I’d say it was in November 2013. I was already enough in love with him to wait seven (7) fucking hours in the cold outside to get his autograph, so I probably was already long gone at that point lmao but when it wasn’t until I saw him perform live in Henry V, that I reached the point of no return.

Jude’s acting is already stunning enough in films, and The Young Pope was certainly his best performance, yet when you see him live, his acting is on a whole new level. But what really made me become like “I will spend my entire life supporting this man” was seeing how incredibly happy he was. Seeing how sincerely happy and grateful he is when the play is over and everyone is applauding, is honestly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. You can tell he is living his dream by being an actor, that this is why he chose to do this job. And knowing how happy it makes him that he can live this dream since like 25 years, makes me want to do anything within my power to help him continue living this life.

I mean, I know I will never be able to truly repay him for all the joy he brings me, for being an inspiration, for being the only person who is making me continue living and not giving in to my depression and who made me seek professional help for it a few years go, and just expanding my horizon and making me see things from a whole new perspective but I will always do the little I can do to support him.

Because he honestly deserves to live the life he is currently living more than anyone else and I hope he knows that.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“Titus likes you...too much” - Older!Damian Wayne x Reader

I know I said I wouldn’t write anything until Friday or Saturday, but I just realized this story was done and for some reason I didn’t post it so why not post it now right ? So here we go. Specially written for @loverandomness2. Some fluffy love for the youngest Wayne boy. I’m sorry if you didn’t want an older!Damian and if that’s not what you wanted at all but...yeah, hope you’ll like it : 

PS : there’s a little surprise for @epickimmie somewhere in this fic. Hope it is ok that I did this. PPS : Also, this story kinda became some sort of sequel to another story I wrote with Damian, which is here : The First time is serious business. 

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________

It was early in the morning when Damian finally came home. Came back to you. 

It had been a few years since his father retired and Damian inherited the Batman’s cowl. Most nights, he was out fighting crimes in Gotham, though, since his dad’s younger years, G-city was way safer, and it often happened that Damian came home early, or sometimes, didn’t go out at all (besides, he still had the help of his brothers, and they took turn to watch over the city...so really, you often had times with him, even if he was also quite busy during the day, as he became Wayne Inc’s CEO as well). It didn’t mean that there wasn’t any work ever though, like tonight, a new guy who called himself the “Joker’s son” was menacing the streets, and Damian was exhausted as he finally came home...But really, more often than not, the city was now calm. 

Bruce was beyond happy about that, as he sacrificed his own life so others wouldn't have to. Sometimes, when you went over to Wayne’s Manor (you and Damian moved in a penthouse in the heart of Gotham quite a while ago), you felt a bit sad for your father-in-law...But nowadays, seeing his sons happy sufficed to make him happier than ever since his parents’ death. 

None of his children still lived in the Manor, but, now that they were all grown up and understood some of the difficult choices he had to take (it took Jason a little more than his brothers to get it), they all “forgave” him for any mistakes he might have done while trying the best he could to raise them, and often visited him and Alfred. 

Besides, since a little while, a certain Selina Kyle finally decided to move in with him so, Damian’s father wasn’t lonely, and that was great. He could finally live his life, after all those years, after sacrificing his youth and health...Finally, he was at peace (or almost, as sometimes, he couldn’t stay away from the bat-computer and such).  

As Damian came in your bedroom, shoulders hunched with fatigue, rubbing his face softly, you couldn’t help but be happy at the mere sight of him. You guys all came such a long way since you first met him...You were barely ten years old when you first encountered the youngest boy in the Wayne family, and so much had changed since those times. 

************

Jason had a small flat on Gotham’s dock. He loved the ocean and its sound, and refused any bigger place his father offered to buy him. He was still Red Hood at night, but wasn’t as violent as he used to. He didn’t kill anymore. Especially since he found a girl that looked his opposite, and tamed him down (referencing this fic here : Cutie and the Beast). Hell, they even had healthy triplets. TRIPLETS ! Two boys and a girl. Quite a busy life, as those kids were a handful...You adored them. Cute little nephews and niece. 

Dick moved to Bludhaven ages ago too, got married to a certain Lydia, the famous Superman’s daughter (though most people knew him just as retired journalist Clark Kent) (this is referencing a story by @soepicsokim, go check it out :-)), and was his same goofy and happy self. Especially when he was around his wife really. He often visited you guys to your apartment, and even though Damian was now a grown ass man, he still treated him like a child. 

Tim was living in a house in Gotham’s suburb, and was still the same old nerd he always been. Except now, he shared his life with a nerdy wife, and one nerdy little girl of his own. Last time you saw him, they were building a rocket in their garden...Of course they would.

Finally, Damian, your Damian, was living with you in a beautiful apartment in Gotham Central, and after years of being lost, sad, lonely and angry, he finally found balance by your side. You were his rock, his anchor to reality, and to everything that was good in life. You helped him with your love, and he thanked god, or whoever was out there, everyday for putting you on his way, years ago. You were a student in his middle school, and the only one that didn’t judge him and such, and even talked back to him when he was being an ass. A damn smart (and quite stubborn) girl too. Of course he could only fall for you. 

You’d been together for a long time before he finally popped the question, giving you his grandmother’s magnificent wedding ring he got from his father. You got married three years ago, a small and intimate reception with only close friends and family (his best friend, Jon Kent, also Dick’s wife little brother, made a tear jerking speech...not because it was emotional, but because it was very funny and awkward, so everyone just laughed so much they cried). It made every newspaper big title, “The last golden boy of Gotham, the only Wayne boy who wasn’t hitched...got hitched. And with a nobody !” Oh you hated the press. 

Damian was so mad some newspaper disrespected you he bought them and made them apologize for six months straight...It was cute at first, but after the hundredth daily newspaper stating : “(Y/N) Wayne is the sweetest woman in Gotham”, you got a bit tired and embarrassed of it. Once Damian realized it, he made them stop, and of course, since then, no news from Gotham city (or elsewhere in fact) dared to even speak slightly ill of you. 

************

 Every night, you’d wait for him to come home back to you, worrying when he’d come through only in the earliest hours of the day. 

When it was the case, it meant he had a rough night. Like today. 

He didn’t seem injured, but definitely drained and weary. But when he entered your shared bedroom where he found you, still awake, watching TV, a bright smile on your face as he came in, his features relaxed, and he lost ten years when he smiled back at you, of a genuine and happy smile full of sappy love. 

He undressed down to his boxers, and approached your bed...Only to stop in front of it, frowning quite like his father used to, and with a little “Tt” while he was looking at a massive form next to you, he says :

-...I think Titus really likes you. 

You smile at him and look at his huge dog besides you, that you guys were finally able to bring back from the Manor to your apartment. With a mischievous smirk, you say :  

-Oh ? What makes you think that ? 

-Oh I don’t know. Maybe the fact that this damn dog takes up more of the bed than I do ! 

-Hey, babe, it’s your dog. Besides, you’re not even in bed yet. 

-Because he takes most of it, he’s even taking my place in your arms...

-He’s protecting the baby. 

Damian cannot help the smiles that creeps on his face, as he tries to get into bed (difficult task with Titus in it already). The baby. His baby. Your baby. 

His heart beats wildly just at the memories of when he found out you were with child. He almost fainted of joy. 

*****************

You waited the perfect moment. A family dinner at the Manor. The room was full of laughter, stupid jokes, and giggles from your nephews and nieces. Everyone was just talking about anything and everything. It was a joyful moment. When you just blurted out : “I’m pregnant”, quickly followed by a “The family’s gonna have one more little one soon”, and the room went silent. 

Bruce was the first to react, laughing like a mad man at the news, unable to hold his happiness about the prospect to be a grandfather again (he was an even better grandfather than a father). Selina quickly followed and congratulated you. Dick lost his shit and jumped up and down in the entire dining room, until Lydia got a hold of him and soothed him back to a slightly less excited him. Jason chuckled and, looking at his own kids, rubbed his little brother’s shoulders tenderly. Tim, his daughter asleep in his arms, smiled widely and said something about hoping he or she would be a genius like you and Damian, because he wished he could teach his nephews and nieces something, and Jason’s triplets were just too...full of life to concentrate on anything. 

The glare Jason gave Tim made everyone laugh, and the attention went back to you and Damian. To you and a very pale Damian. You were afraid he didn’t want this child with you until...He raised to his feet, and went to you, pulling you up in one of the best hug you ever received in your life. His warm embrace was everything you needed. 

Under his family’s applause, you truly became the happiest woman in the World. And he never felt such joy in his life. A child. Your child. 

-Our child...

He whispered in your ear, tightening his grip on you. 

***********

-Grrrrrr. 

Damian instinctually takes a step away from you and “his” dog, as Titus grunts at him. Visibly, “his” dog allegiance shifted to his unborn child, as the hound refuses to let your husband come close from you and your swollen belly. 

-He’s groaning at me ! He’s taking most of my own damn bed, and he dares to groan at me ! He never groaned at me before ! 

You can’t hold the little giggle that escapes your lips in front of your Damian’s pouty and stunned face, which makes him even broodier. You push Titus a bit on the side (he doesn’t resist, after all, right now, his sole purpose is to protect you and the baby from anyone...which includes his own master) and reach for the love of your life. 

-You trained him too well honey, he’s really shielding me and our baby from any danger ! 

-I’m not a danger, I’m your husband !

-But how does he know you’re not a threat ?

-I never even did anything that could make him think that ! 

-Hey, don’t yell at me babe, he’s gonna take it the wrong way ! 

Damian narrows his eyes at you and his traitor of a dog, but soon realizes you’re only mocking him, and he chuckles lowly. 

-Damn woman, you’re driving me crazy. Quite literally. 

-Even after all those years ? Yay, go me ! 

He chuckles some more, and it’s such a sweet sound that you wished you could freeze time and hear his soft laugh forever. You love when he feels so comfortable with you, that he lets go of his stoic self to allow himself to smile and laugh. Only you, have that effect on him (and sometimes Dick too, because that man was just so damn silly). 

-My problem still isn’t solved though. 

-What problem ? 

-(Y/N), there’s a dog where I’m suppose to sleep, I’m really, REALLY tired, and he groans at me whenever I approach you. I’d say it’s a problem. 

-Oh right. Yeah. Just a second. 

You lock your gaze on Titus, and the dog instantly stares at you. You turn your head toward the end of the bed, and the animal respond with a whiney noise. You insist, and with a small exasperated growl (yes, dogs can make exasperated noises !), he rises on his feet, looks at his own master suspiciously, and goes to lay down at the bottom of the bed. Said bed is so big, that he can sleep there without bothering you or your giant ass husband. 

Damian looks at you, a bit confused, and says : 

-...Did you just...Did you just talk to our dogs with your eyes ? 

You shake your head positively. Of course you did. You always had a special connection with animals, and Titus was a good boy. 

Damian looks at you, then at “his” dog, then back at you, and sighs. He almost miss the days when his dog was a puppy and did everything he told him to do...but in those days, you weren’t in his life, so he couldn’t really ever regret them. There was no living without you, no Damian without (Y/N). 

Making sure Titus won’t do anything, he slowly crawl into bed, and carefully comes closer to you, until you rest at his side. He’s still a bit uneasy at the way his dog follows him with his eyes though. Ready to intervene if there’s any problem (it kinda reassures him though, that his dog is that protective of you and your unborn baby, because it means he can leave you sometimes and know you’ll be ok). 

A loving hand on your stomach, his free arm behind your head, you snuggle against him, nuzzling his neck, and he lets out a content sigh. He’s finally home. He has you in his arms. He can even feel his future son kicking. 

Everything is perfect. 

You raise on your elbow and bend over his body, smiling sweetly at him. He, of course, returns your smile, and raises his head to plant a soft kiss on your lips. 

-Did I say I love you today ? 

-I don’t think so, no.

-Well, I love you (Y/N). 

-It’s funny. 

-Why ?

-Cause I love you too. Always have, probably always will. 

-Probably ?

-Well, you never know...

You tease him, he knows it. And he loves it. With his trademark “batsmirk”, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down on him, giving you an extremely cute esquimo kiss (he sure was glad that none of his brothers or friends were around, they would totally make fun of him for being so cheesy). 

-I hope you’ll always love me. It would kill me to loose you...

-So dramatic. 

-And yet I speak the truth. I cannot live without you (Y/N). 

Your heart skip a beat. Why did he have to be so charming and attractive ? He stares back at you with his beautiful green eyes, and you can’t help but plant loving kisses on his soft and sweet skin you love so much. You have a quick thought about how much he looks like his father, except for the eyes and darker skin, and you smile because if he ages like his dad...Well damn. 

-I love you Dami. So much.

-I love you too (Y/N), so much it hurts. Don’t ever leave, please. 

-I don’t make that promise unless you do the same. 

-I don’t intend on ever leaving you. Or our future child. 

-Well good, because I’m not going anywhere. 

-Good. 

-Good. 

He raises on his elbow, and as you plop down on the bed, he straddles you, as he knows you love how his body shields you. His hands are on each side of your face, deft fingers putting a strand of wild (H/C) hair behind your ear, and caressing your cheek with their tip. His legs are on each side of you. You’re trapped in his embrace. And you love it. He’s about to bend down and kiss you when...

-OUCH !! WHAT THE HELL TITUS ?! HE BIT ME ! TITUS JUST FUCKING BIT ME !?

The sound of your laughter at the overprotectiveness of “your” dog toward your unborn child resonate through the entire apartment. 

FIN. 

Hope you liked it. I’m a bit afraid it’s not what you wanted, @loverandomness2.

[allenmendezsr]

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[squirrelacorngliterfarts]

my little lover

okay!! here is the requested floki imagine by @lucifersfavoritedaughter!! thanks so much for requesting and i hope you like it!

ps: helga does not exist in this, it would hurt to much to make her in it. this is a little bit before the rest of the sons are born btw

pps: SORRY IT’S SO FUCKING LONG!!! (pun intended) 

you stood in your hut, looking out of your window excitedly, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.

tonight was the night you had been waiting for, the sacrifice.

for months and months on end you had been talking about nothing but the sacrifice, to anyone and everyone. of course they were bored by it, but not you.

or your wonderfully crazy companion. floki.

though you two were just friends, you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for him, it had been strong since the day ragnar had introduced the both of you.

but, sadly, friends was all you two would ever be.

you had spent all morning doing your hair just right, it falling in beautiful waves down your back, little braids present here and there, your kohl eye liner perfectly smudged around your eyes, a small gold stripe going down your throat to your chest.

and the white dress that was hugging your body perfectly.......you looked absolutely breath taking.

you heaved a great sigh and walked out of your front door once the sun was set. you walked gracefully and carefully to the hall, your bare feet digging softly into the damp earth below.

you saw that the doors were open wide, people smiling and laughing whilst drinking their mead, all of them looking too excited for words.

but not as excited as you were.

you walked inside and seen ragnar, sitting at his throne, his frown turning into a wide smile when his eyes caught yours.

“(y/n)!, come!” ragnar had called out, his hand motioning you over. you grinned opening your arms wide as ragnar practically ran to you mid-way.

he enveloped you into a tight embrace, his beard lightly tickling your neck.

“how are you, love?. you look beautiful” ragnar said taking in your lovely appearance. you smiled brightly, your teeth glowing in the wonderful candle light.

“i am wonderful, ragnar. and yourself?” you asked, ragnar opened his mouth, but shut it, a knowing smirk gracing his features.

“perfect, love. by the way, brace yourself” ragnar suddenly said making you stare at him confused. not even a second later you were spun around and picked up, arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

you screamed and laughed with delight, the loud giggles behind you made it clear who it was.

“floki!, put me down!” you exclaimed, but couldn’t hold back your loud puffs of laughter. floki set you down, his arms not leaving your waist. he smiled mischievously, his one hand reaching up to tuck a chunk of your lovely (h/c) hair behind your ear.

“are you ready for the sacrifice?, are you ready to please our gods?” he asked, bumping his forehead with yours.

you couldn’t help but lean more into him and moan quietly at his words.

“yes, yes.” you and him giggled together, a look flashed behind his eyes, a look that stunned you silent.

lust.

you went to speak, but ragnars loud words caused you both to look away from each other. 

it was time.

everyone gathered outside, ready to watch the sacrifice. tonight we were sacrificing a young man by the name of earl jorg, of course, you had mentioned your name quite a few times, but you were denied every time.

you stood close to floki, hands brushing against each other every time you moved, ragnar walked up the large slab of wood where the young man stood, his body nude except the wrap covering his lower half.

your breaths felt shallow and deep, your heart beating even faster, gut clenching in excitement. floki was extremely giddy next to you, his body practically humming. but his eyes weren’t on the readying sacrifice.

they were on you.

you turned your head, eyes meeting his, something felt different between you two tonight, something along the lines of longing and...desire.

floki then grabbed at your hand and tugged you forwards.

“floki?, what?-”

“ah, ah, ah!, no talking” he said dragging you through the crowed.

“but floki?, the sacrif-”

“no talking, love” he said once again, dragging you away from all the excitement.

you couldn’t help but feel saddened that he was taking you away from something you had been waiting for since last year, but it was floki, nothing was ever boring with floki.

he had taken you deep into the woods, you could barely see the moon through the thick and dense trees. you had listened to him and tayed silent.

then, you saw a bright light up ahead.

your curiosity was reeling by now, your white dress flowing behind you as you both ran even faster.

finally, you made it.

large torches were aligned everywhere in a large circle, surrounding a large white stone table. little animal skulls were also spread around the small clearing.

it was beautiful.

floki let go of your hand and walked forwards, closer to the table, turning to you and giving you a smirk.

“floki?...what is this?” you asked, a breathless tone making floki shiver. he beckoned you over to him, a knife now present in his hand. you walked over slowly, still taking in everything around you.

once you were close enough, floki had grabbed your hand, and tugged you harshly against him.

he raised the glistening knife high to your face, gently scraping it against your cheek, moving behind your head.

of curse you weren’t worried, floki had been nothing but gentle with you since you’d met. floki shocked you when he sliced a long chunk of hair from your head..

he then pushed you down on the stone table, his palm on your stomach, pushing you until you laid flat.

floki walked around the stone table until he was at your head, he grabbed both of your arms and tied them with a thick rope, he tied it loosely so it didn’t hurt you.

“Guð, vinsamlegast blessaðu mig” he spoke, your eyes fluttering closed as his large hands stroked your neck, face and arms softly.

“Vinsamlegast blessaðu þessa konu. Við viljum ekkert annað en að þóknast þér”. you smiled whilst biting your lip, his hands moving  lower to your breasts, his knife in his hand once again.

“Blessa okkur, blessa okkur” you both chanted this time, your eyes still closed as his hands slowly undid the ties on your dress. he slipped it down, lower and lower until it was completely off your body.

you felt like a woman possessed, you didn’t question anything, you wanted this to happen to you.

he placed the dress under your head, as a pillow, and walked away. he walked over to a small pen over near a tree. he came back a moment later carrying a hen. it was clucking softly in his arms, your excitment grew as you realized what was happening.

your heart felt ready to fly out of your chest at this moment. he climbed on top of the stone table, straddling your thighs.

floki closed his eyes, holding the hen over his head, his white dress shirt hanging off of him ,his stomach visible in the torches light.

your nipples were hard as a cold breeze passed by, you were not shy at all in front of him, it all felt completely natural being exposed to him.

“Ég fórna þessu dýri, í von um að þóknast þér og launað stað í Valhalla, með þessari konu við hliðina á mér. Vinsamlegast hafðu tilboð mitt”.

as the last words left his slow moving mouth, he sliced the hens neck open.

blood splattered all over the both of you. you giggled lightly, the hot blood pouring all over your cold body making you arch up, head thrown back.

floki hummed lowly, throwing the hens lifeless body aside laong with the knife, and took his shirt off.

he leaned down lower, and pressed his body against your naked one, blood smearing off of you and on to him.

you stared into his eyes, a strong almost powerful feeling rushing between you both. it felt, like, all eyes were on you both and you were preforming a dance.

he rubbed his hand along your stomach and and gathered some blood on his fingers. he then started tracing precise lines all across your body.

“Ég bið um vernd“ he said, finishing his first rune. you looked down and seen the beautiful mark across your left thigh. he started on more and more.

his other hand moved down and pulled down his pants. you couldn’t help but look down at his painfully hard prick, he was so thick, so big.

you couldn’t tell if you were wet, or if it was the blood.

he moved up, licking a long stripe from your chest, up your neck, and to your cheek, clearing it of blood. he then stopped and was staring at your mouth.

he pressed your mouths together so roughly, his bloody tongue slipping between your lips, licking the roof of your mouth.

you could feel the breeze around you both picking up, but the air wasn’t cold anymore, it was hot.

you wrapped both bloody and rune covered legs around his waist, tugging him closer to you. he ran both hands up your body and gripped your arms, placing his head between them both.

“Ég fórna ánægju minni fyrir yður, guðir mínar“, he slid inside you.

though it was dark, you could see blinding white lights above. floki was chanting as he started to thrust roughly inside you, your body moving up and down with every jerk of his hips.

you moaned so loudly with every thrust, flokis chants became grunts and loud groans of pleasure. you couldn’t help but move your hips with him.

“unh! floki!” you cried as he started to go faster and faster. you could feel power and more and more euphoric emotions coarse through you. you could practically feel the gods blessing you.

floki stopped chanting and went even faster, you could hear him slip inside, that sound causing you to throw your head back and cry even louder. the feeling was all to much, by now you were sobbing and tears were spilling from your eyes.

he reached a hand .down and smeared blood on your clit.

“please, please yell for me, yell for our gods” floki moaned out, pressing a hot open kiss to your red and already swollen lips.

you felt as if you were in valhalla, a perfect nirvana in which only you and floki existed. you listened to him, you cried for him, begged him, scratched him, bit him, made love to him.

you would sacrifice yourself for him.

you could feel yourself come closer and closer to the edge. you could feel the gods watching as he slid himself in and out of you, over and over, your name sounding like the most perfect sin.

you clenched several times around him when he sucked on your neck, your pulse pumping wildly under his lips.

“floki! i-i!-” you were cut off as floki harshly moved your body up, him on his knees whilst he held your body above him, you whole body completely in the air, him still fucking you.

“cum, cum for me, sacrifice yourself for me” he moaned, the second time you came down on him, you released, your orgasm hitting you hard.

you cried so loudly that you knew for a fact that everyone at the hall heard you. floki held you still as he came, his hot spurts of cum coating your womb, it felt so hot, so dirty, so good.

in the background you heard thunder, felt the shock waves of the lightning, you could feel thor smiling proudly down at you both.

as you both sat there, him still inside you, the realization of what you both just did sunk in.

you could feel the feeling of being watched fade slowly, the  powerful feeling leaving along with it.

“f-floki?” you asked, voice cracking from all the screaming, your tears of pleasure dried upon your cheeks. floki looked at you in that moment, his eyes glowing, the blood on his neck and chest making you wet once again.

“what is it, Ást?” he asked, a small smirk on his face.

“what does this mean, now?, what are we?”.he looked at you like you had just prayed to the christian god, like you were absolutely insane.

“what do you mean?”.

“is this...it?, after we leave here are we done?” you hoped not, you hoped floki would take you, love you...maybe marry you one day.

floki giggled and leaned his head  against yours.

“of course this is not it, you are my woman” he said, kissing your lips softly.

“i am not done with you, not now, and not ever” he whispered, still giggling like a mad man. you kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck likc a snake, tugging him even closer.

“my little lover”. 

hope you like it and if ya don’t i’ll delete it!! thanks for the request @lucifersfavoritedaughter!!!

translation:  Guð, vinsamlegast blessaðu mig: “gods, please bless me”

translation:  Vinsamlegast blessaðu þessa konu. Við viljum ekkert annað en að þóknast þér: “please bless this woman, we want nothing but to please you”

translation:  Blessa okkur, blessa okkur: “bless us, bless us”

translation:  Ég fórna þessu dýri, í von um að þóknast þér og launað stað í Valhalla, með þessari konu við hliðina á mér. Vinsamlegast hafðu tilboð mitt: I sacrifice this animal, hoping to please you and secure a place in Valhalla, with this woman next to me. Please accept my offering”

translation:  Ég bið um vernd:  “i ask for protection”

translation:  Ég fórna ánægju minni fyrir yður, guðir mínar: “I sacrifice my pleasure to you, my gods”

translation: Ást  “love”.

[jilyyall]

i-saw-you-sneaking-food-out-of-the-dining-hall college AU for jily prompt? i loooove the neighbors one you just posted 👌🏻❤️

Here you go! This was fun to write :) Thanks for sending me a prompt!

It Began with a Dare

He’s rounding the corner of the dining hall when she stopshim – the beautiful redheaded girl from his history class. Just appears out ofnowhere, really, running up from behind him and swinging round in front of himto corner him there. For a long moment, she just stands there and stares athim, wide-eyed and crazed and pretty. His hand jumps to his hair, gives it aslight ruffle.

“Hello,” he says, trying his best to sound confident andcharming and even half as cool as his best friend and roommate, Sirius, who hashad more girls in his bed since the start of term than James and their twomates, Remus and Peter, have in their lives combined. “Not that I mind beingcornered by a beautiful woman, but…”

Before he can give his best attempt at charming her, shecuts him off. “I saw you.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows, he is sure, are attempting to join thegravity-defying mess atop his head, but she doesn’t seem to care. “I saw you,too.”

He had, after all, seen her in class earlier. He didn’tthink she had seen him, though. Until this moment, actually, he had been underthe impression that she had no idea he existed. She sits nowhere near him, isalways there before him, and tends to stick around after class to talk with asmall group of girls long after he heads out for his next class.

Her eyes narrow in confusion. It isn’t until she switchesher focus to his face that he realizes she has been staring at the two bagshe’s got slung over his shoulders this whole time. Oh shit.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, studying his facefor a long moment and then raking her gaze down his body.

He wants to think she is checking him out – she may verywell be, he’s no slouch – but he gets too caught up in the fact that she isstaring at him like she has never seen him before in her life. He is toocrushed to have his long-held theory confirmed to rejoice in the fact that herface flushes when she realizes he caught her.

“What are you talking about?” he parrots back at her, tryingto keep the surliness out of his tone. Why he is so crushed that she’s nevertaken any notice of him before, he doesn’t know. He knew she had never seen himin history before. He sat in the seat very nearest the door and never spoke inclass, preferring instead to alternate between quietly staring at her andtexting his mates who had somehow managedto get into a different history class than him, all three together. Itshouldn’t bother him that she hadn’t noticed him. It was his own fault, really,for not speaking to her before even though he’s been staring at her for fivesolid months.

He hefts his loot more firmly over his shoulder, which is amistake. In an instant, she is staring intently at the two bags he is carrying,like a lioness tracking her prey. He makes to step around her, but she shiftsto block his way.

“If you don’t share, I may kill you.” Her voice, previouslyso light and soft and adorably confused, comes out in a low growl. James pauses, looks at her, laughs. And instantly regrets it when she stalkscloser. His grip tightens on the straps of his bags and he clears his throat,his heart pounding and thinks, dear God,she’s not only beautiful, she’s crazy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says aloud.

“The scones, you prat!” She grabs for his bag, and heinstinctively steps back.

She trips, nearly falls, catches herself against the brickwall next to them. He grips her shoulders to steady her, eyeing her warily.When she flushes, clearly embarrassed, he reluctantly relinquishes his grasp onher.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He wants to ask if she’s stoned asfuck because, honestly, who else cares this much about a scone? Her eyes areclear and focused and she seems perfectly in control of herself, if not a bitscone-crazed, so he thinks she probably isn’t stoned.

Sconed, says thevoice in his mind and he nearly laughs aloud, but refrains, not wanting to seethat warning flash in her eyes again, not so soon anyway.

“I’m fine. Sorry.” She looks down at her feet for a moment,then takes a deep breath and looks up into his face again. He is momentarilystunned by the pure green of her eyes. “It’s just… I really fucking love thosescones. They’re the only thing that they serve consistently that I actuallylove and you’ve gone and taken them all!”

Her eyes widen and go a bit glassy and he is horrified tothink that she may actually cry? Over scones? Jesus Christ, she is actually araving lunatic. He may also be in love with her, which is ridiculous and justas horrifying a prospect.

“What on Earth do you need with five dozen scones anyway?”she demands, thankfully not crying.

“I don’t…” He trails off, unsure of what he should say.

“Don’t try to play innocent!” She jabs a finger at him,stopping just short of actually prodding him in the chest. “I saw you! Youwalked right up to the scones with your empty booksacks and started talking topoor Myrtle…”

“Myrtle?” he cuts in, genuinely confused.

“Yes, Myrtle! The scone lady! Myrtle!”

Judging from the look on her face, he is a right asshole fornot knowing the name of the woman who serves the very dry scones in the dininghall. He wonders if this girl knows the names of every server in the dininghall. He reckons it’s probably not the best time to ask, though, so he nodsinstead.

“Oh, yes, of course. Myrtle the Scone Lady. Very sorry,continue.”

“You were talking to Myrtle, distracting her with yourdashing looks and your charming smile and your bedroom eyes and she didn’t evennotice you stuffing five dozen of myfavorite scones into two bags!”

They stare at each other for a moment, both wide eyed forprobably two very different reasons.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you,” he finally says. “AllI got from that was that you were watching me and think I’m attractive.”

“I didn’t – I never – now you just…!” She sputters, gasps,and chokes on the words that won’t come out.

“Now, don’t worry. I’ll level with you. I have watched youbefore…” When she takes a step back, he realizes what he just said, and hiseyes widen. He holds out both hands in a reassuring gesture. “Oh God, no. Thatsounded awful. I just meant…”

He stops, rakes a hand through his hair, fights the urge torip it right out of his scalp. Fuck, I’mnot Sirius I can’t be smooth.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a whoosh, forcing himself to calm down andspeak rationally in spite of the erratic beating of his heart. “I’ve noticedyou, is what I mean, and I find you rather attractive as well.”

“I don’t – That’s not - I just –”

“And that’s why,” he interrupts her, swinging one bagaround, unlatching it, and holding it out to her, “I am willing to share myhaul with you.”

She eyes him uncertainly for a moment, then stares down intothe bag. The look on her face is absolutely hysterical – it’s as if he has justpresented her with the Mona Lisa. Sheis either half starved to death or she actually just really, really loves thesescones.

She picks one out of the bag, and immediately startsdevouring it. He decides not to tell her that these are far from the bestscones he’s ever had. She may literally kill him if he did.

When he zips up his bag and swings it back over hisshoulder, she sends him a reproachful look. He sighs and reaches for it again,handing her one more. This is the last one, he vows silently, because if hegives her any more, then everything could very well be ruined. One missingscone? Easily explained as a miscount. Two missing scones? Well, it’s not hisfault if the server –Myrtle the Scone Lady – decided to take one or two forherself before serving.

“Stingy,” she says, but smiles nonetheless.

This time when he laughs, she doesn’t look angry. She justcontinues happily munching away on her subpar scones.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, his friends undoubtedlyinquiring as to the status of his mission.

“I’ve got to go,” he tells her regretfully. “But I’ll seeyou around.”

“Where?” She asks, and he understands that she’s asking howhe knows her when clearly this is first time she’s ever noticed him.

“Tell you what,” he says, grinning when she looks up at him,crumbs coating her lips. “You figure out where I know you from and I’ll buy youall the scones you want.”

She flushes and makes to wipe her mouth so she can replywith some dignity, but James has already turned to leave, convinced that thatis the smoothest statement he is capable of making and choosing to leave it atthat.

—-

Somehow, for the first time ever, he is running early onMonday morning. When he slips into his seat at the back of his history class,his gaze slides immediately to the seat she always occupies – six aisles downand four rows to the right. His heart sinks when he finds her spot empty.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Before he is even able toget it out of his pocket, it vibrates three more times. For once, he isrelieved at the fact that his mates are going to be chatting in the group allclass; the object of his affection isn’t in class today, so the texting won’tbe a distraction. He holds his thumb over the home button and his phoneunlocks, immediately opening up to the group chat.

SB: bets on whether ornot prongs gets a date

PP: not

RL: Bets on whether ornot Prongs even gets noticed?

SB: SICK BURN

JP: i hate you all.

SB: hey two scones isworth a date right

PP: unlikely

RL: For what it’sworth, I think she’ll at least recognize you.

PP: rly

JP: what a lad, moony.wormtail, you’re my least favorite.

RL: Sure. Wouldn’t theface of the absolute nutter who stole every last scone in the dining hall andfelt it appropriate to only give you two of them be forever burned in yourmind?

JP: don’t act likeyou’re not the one who dared me to filch them all.

JP: by the way, i takeit back. i have no least favorite. i hate you all equally.

SB: chin up mate

SB: just ask her out

SB: if nothing elseyou can always lure her in with the promise of free scones

PP: tru uve alrdy prvnurself capable

JP: what? couldn’tfigure out how to shorten capable?

PP: rude

RL: He’s not wrong. Imean, you all need to work on your punctuation and capitalization, butWormtail, it hurts to read your texts sometimes.

PP: :( 

SB: enough of that

SB: back to matter athand

SB: are you going toask her out

JP: she’s not evenhere.

PP: she h8s u

SB: shes avoiding youlol

JP: fuck off.

RL: She doesn’t evenknow you’re in that class. It’s still early yet. There’s time.  

JP: okay, okay, i’llcome clean. moony, you’re my favorite.

SB: that hurts

PP: dnt wry hes vfickle ull probs b his fav in a few

Someone sits down next to him, and he looks up expecting tosee his usual neighbour, a pale, perpetually-tired-looking boy who usually payseven less attention to the professor than James does. Instead, he sees long redhair and vibrant, triumphant green eyes.

“I believe you owe me all the scones in the world.”

His grip goes slack for a moment, just enough for his phoneto slip out of his hands and clatter loudly to the floor. He ducks down to grabit. When he sits up straight again she is smiling at him.

“James Potter,” he says, holding out his hand with a widegrin.

When her small, soft, warm hand slides into his, his heart stutters.He is staring at her, absolutely enchanted by her, but she’s staring rightback, the smile on her face a perfect mixture of triumph, happiness, and excitement and he thinks, really hopes,that he’s not imagining the flush on her cheeks. She bites her lip and ducksher head, but still manages to maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m Lily Evans.”

[primeetime]

Why Don’t I Write More

It’s been too long since my last post. A lot has changed in my life, but at my core, I’m still the same. I want to be a great writer so I read. Some days I read a lot. Some days I read a little. But every day I read. If I can find one good quote, one good metaphor, one good simile or just one way to improve my writing, whatever I was reading was worth my time. Eventually I’ll write more, but for right now I focus on reading. 

So what I’m I reading right now. Well, next to me on my bed I have 3 books. I have Ta-Nehisi Coates powerful new book “The Water Dancer,” Leo Tolstoy’s epic masterpiece “War and Peace,” and I have Frederick Douglass’ 3rd autobiography, “The Life and Times of Frederick Dougalss.”

It’ll be a long time before I really commit to writing because I feel like so much of writing is based on reading other writers and slowly but surely coming up with your own style.

There are so many writers that I want to read and break down and analyze that I just know that right now writing is on the back burner. I want to read Zora Neale Hurston and W.E.B. DuBois. I want to read Colson Whitehead and Imani Perry. I want to read Langston Hughe’s short stories and August Wilson’s plays. I’ve already read the vast majority of James Baldwin’s non-fiction but I want to read his novels. And that’s only talking about the Black writers. 

From the 200 pages I’ve read of “War and Peace” I want to read, at the very least, Anna Karenina and Crime Punishment. I also want to read Oscar Wilde and some other British authors. Lastly, I definitely want to read the great American writers, so as you can see I have no shortage of authors to read. But in the meantime Ill write here and there. I might make a couple more posts in the next coming days because there are a couple burning issues that I want to write about. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever get around to it (heck, I don’t even know if anyone reads this lol), but the two topics I want to write about are the different forms that love can take (as Americans our understanding of love is so limited but I read this paragraph from the NYTimes Modern Love section and it inspired me to write something...“I flunked Chem II, which was especially humiliating for the daughter of a renowned scientist. “I’m not worried about your grade,” my teacher said, smiling. “I know that someday I’m going to have your books on my shelf.” I was stunned by his gift of faith. I felt as if I were flunking life, but he had seen my writing in the school paper. Twenty years later, I sent him a copy of my first published book. “I used your book in my retirement talk,” he wrote back. “Then I went home and put it on my shelf.””) and patriotism. 

I’ll leave you with a quote from James Baldwin and a powerful video that every American should watch. The quote is from “No Name in the Street” and it’s probably the most despairing line I’ve ever read from James, 

“I don’t think that any black person can speak of Malcolm and Martin without wishing that they were here. It is not possible for me to speak of them without a sense of loss and grief and rage; and with the sense, furthermore, of having been forced to undergo an unforgivable indignity, both personal and vast. Our children need them, which is, indeed, the reason that they are not here: and now we, the blacks, must make certain that our children never forget them. For the American republic has always done everything in its power to destroy our children’s heroes, with the clear (and sometimes clearly stated) intention of destroying our children’s hope. This endeavor has doomed the American nation: mark my words.”

The video I leave you with is of MLK’s funeral. I decided to watch it after reading Baldwin’s description of both the service. This post is getting longer than I expected, but I also want to add in James Baldwin’s description of the funeral service.

The church was packed, of course, incredibly so. Far in the front, I saw Harry Belafonte sitting next to Coretta King. I had interviewed Coretta years ago, when I was doing a profile on her husband. We had got on very well; she had a nice, free laugh. Ralph David Abernathy sat in the pulpit. I remembered him from years ago, sitting in his shirtsleeves in the house in Montgomery, big, black, and cheerful, pouring some cool soft drink, and, later, getting me settled in a nearby hotel. In the pew directly before me sat Marlon Brando, Sammy Davis, Eartha Kitt—covered in black, looking like a lost ten-year-old girl—and Sidney Poitier, in the same pew, or nearby. Marlon saw me and nodded. 

The atmosphere was black, with a tension indescribable—as though something, perhaps the heavens, perhaps the earth, might crack. Everyone sat very still. The actual service sort of washed over me, in waves. It wasn’t that it seemed unreal; it was the most real church service I’ve ever sat through in my life, or ever hope to sit through; but I have a childhood hangover thing about not weeping in public, and I was concentrating on holding myself together. I did not want to weep for Martin; tears seemed futile. But I may also have been afraid, and I could not have been the only one, that if I began to weep, I would not be able to stop. There was more than enough to weep for, if one was to weep—so many of us, cut down, so soon. Medgar, Malcolm, Martin: and their widows, and their children. 

Reverend Ralph David Abernathy asked a certain sister to sing a song which Martin had loved—“once more,” said Ralph David, “for Martin and for me,” and he sat down. The long, dark sister, whose name I do not remember, rose, very beautiful in her robes, and in her covered grief, and began to sing. It was a song I knew: “My Heavenly Father Watches Over Me.” The song rang out as it might have over dark fields, long ago; she was singing of a covenant a people had made, long ago, with life, and with that larger life which ends in revelation and which moves in love.

She stood there, and she sang it. How she bore it, I do not know; I think I have never seen a face quite like that face that afternoon. She was singing it for Martin, and for us. 

And surely, He Remembers me. My heavenly Father watches over me. 

At last, we were standing, and filing out, to walk behind Martin, home. I found myself between Marlon and Sammy. I had not been aware of the people when I had been pressing past them to get to the church. But, now, as we came out, and I looked up the road, I saw them. They were all along the road, on either side, they were on all the roofs, on either side. Every inch of ground, as far as the eye could see, was black with black people, and they stood in silence. It was the silence that undid me. I started to cry, and I stumbled, and Sammy grabbed my arm. We started to walk.

Baldwin, James. No Name in the Street (Vintage International) (pp. 156-157). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

https://www.c-span.org/video/?443156-1/martin-luther-king-jr-funeral-coverage-1968

For me, the most moving part was the march. All the despairing Black faces that lined the street from Ebenezer Baptist Church to Morehouse College was just haunting. The assassination of Dr. King is probably the most devastating event in the history of Black America. Yes Dr. King was just a man, but for many African-Americans he had come to be the physical manifestation of hope. When he died, for African-Americans, hope died and we’ve been trying to recover ever since.