#the end was truly fucking marvelous and as a fan of it since it came out this really made me emotional

[gods-angriest-girl]

talking about my feelings during deadpool & wolverine a couple months after it came out because i didn't want to spoil it

that being said, spoilers for deadpool & wolverine ahead!

i had the great privilege of seeing deadpool and wolverine the day it came out. i went and saw it with my dad and my uncle, who got me into the MCU a little over 10 years ago. i did not grow up watching x-men or any marvel movies (the first MCU film i saw was guardians 1, which is a pretty good starting point for kids. i was ~12 when i watched it.) that being said, i was a big fan of deadpool as a character when i was a teenager because i learned he was an openly - and very obviously - queer character, which made me incredibly happy as a queer youth. the first deadpool movie came out when i was about 14 years old, which was a very rocky time for me growing up. i do not remember the age fondly, aside from the first deadpool movie coming out. and i fucking loved it.

now i will admit, i am a filthy goddamn sinner and skipped movie 2, only because uhhhh i was busy when it came out, but i absorbed the film through osmosis and i will probably actually watch it and love it. if you must throw rocks at me, do i now, i will not give you the opportunity to do it later.

from here on out, i will be talking about deadpool and wolverine, so proceed reading at your own risk.

on july 26th, 2024, i entered a local theater alongside my dad and my uncle to watch deadpool & wolverine. i will admit, my expectations were not as high as they once were for MCU movies, due to the dwindling quality and memorability of the last several movies to come out after endgame - with the exception of every spiderman-centered film, but i digress.

i went in with lower expectations than i should have had, and it's my own fault for letting my guard down.

because holy fucking shit.

i have not felt the emotions i felt about this movie since i had watched RRR back in 2022. i will probably do a post like this about RRR at some point, that movie was absolutely divine. anyways, back to DP&W.

first of all, starting the movie with a montage of deadpool killing people to FUCKING NSYNC'S "BYE BYE BYE" WAS BRILLIANT. i was in complete fucking shock, and looking back on it, i definitely had to process the movie a few times because i blacked out during a few scenes. i didn't leave my theater seat once, and i am a person who pees constantly. i drank several liquids beforehand, and i was fucking SAT through the whole movie.

i'd also like to mention at this time: this was the first movie i watched where i was aware that hugh jackman was an actor on the screen. and holy shit. what a man. in the month that followed, i became aware that i had absorbed hugh jackman's acting abilities in the past, been like "oh that's cool, he's talented" and then completely disregarded it. now i realize this man has a RANGE and is really fucking cool. shoutout to hugh jackman, thanks for doing it the way you do.

back to the movie.

i've sat here contemplating if i should talk about the highlights of the film, but really and truly, it's nothing but highlights. so i'll talk about my personal favorite moments. and i do mean favorite, i won't give a straight up play-by-play of the movie.

deadpool's intro scene killing people to bye bye bye

deadpool's cute little birthday party

the suit montage

the wolverine montage, which i'll be honest if i think about it too long it does make me sad (specifically crucified logan) i'll be real i'm just a big crybaby so it's fine. wolverine montage is so funny.

deadpool and wolverine fight

DOGPOOL MY DARLING GIRL

THE HONDA ODYSSEY OBVIOUSLY

elektra, blade, and gambit, oh my! and oh my gosh hi laura you're all grown up now!

basically gambit's whole existence tbh i love this goober

the ending is fucking perfection in every way, from wolverine's beautiful abs (thank you again hugh jackman for torturing yourself please never do that again though <3) to the ending party scene where wade gets to be surrounded by everyone he loves. just flawless.

i could genuinely go on and on and on about this movie, but i think the biggest thing i want to say is that i genuinely knew nothing about x-men going into it. i hadn't watched elektra, blade, any of wolverine's specific movies, or really any x-men film at all for that matter. i went in basically blind, just a goofy gay kid with a love for deadpool. and i had a great time. thank you for not fucking this one up, marvel + disney. you did good.

being excited and gay about RRR another time though because i was reminded of the amazing film while writing this!

[adultswim2021]

The Venture Bros. #42: "Blood of the Father, Heart of Steel" | October 19, 2009 - 12:00AM | S04E01

Hey! It’s a TV Show I actually like! But it’s also a show I like enough that I feel compelled to watch the blu-ray extras for. Hell, this episode had me watching a fan-edit. What can I say? I’m in love!!!! 

I can’t really get into the story of this episode without first talking about it’s unorthodox structure. Basically, the episode jumps around through time in a particular way. We cut back and forth between Brock’s story, which covers what he did immediately after walking off the job as the Venture’s bodyguard. The other story-line is what happens back at the Venture compound. Brock’s story occurs forward in time, like most stories in most episodes of most shows do. BUT: the stuff taking place at the Venture compound is shown to us in reverse order.

There’s also complimentary motifs for each subplot: Brock’s scenes all have a title card that correlates to the original stories found in Marvel Comics #1 from 1939. The Venture’s scenes begin with a CGC rating for a comic book being flashed on screen, which correlates to an actual copy of Marvel Comics #1 which is in the Venture’s possession. As the story moves backwards we find out that the comic has suffered a lot of careless abuse, going from a 9.6 NM grading to a 0.0 (or from 0.0 to 9.6 the way we see it). 

Slightly confusing is Brock’s story occasionally finds him at the Venture compound, so there’s some crossover. There’s also visual transitions from one scene to the next, even if it involves a significant time jump. Brock’s story primarily takes place early in the timeline, while the Venture compound stuff takes place later in the timeline. 

The episode’s cold open starts off with a scene that takes place right at the end of the season three finale, with the Monarch’s car exploding. It takes Brock out, who gets scooped up by the O.S.I. They take him aboard their S.H.I.E.L.D. ship and fix his heart by using robot HELPeR.’s head, sorta like an Iron Man heart (a character in the episode later mentions that robot hearts became all the rage since the Iron Man movie came out). Brock visits the surgeon that gave Hunter his sex change and gets a replacement put in, freeing HELPeR from his imprisonment in Brock’s chest. Brock mails HELPeR’s head to the Ventures wrapped in his jacket, which Hank takes and treats like a sacred object (we also see him wearing it defiantly in the face of Hatred's insistence that he and the Ventures wear uniforms).

Brock hides out for a bit with Steve Summers, the Bionic Man, whom he memorably gifts a bad painting to as part of his art therapy (I remember this painting being an avatar on a message board I posted on. This information is incredibly important to me, so I’m putting it here, parenthetically). Brock goes to spy on the Blackhearts and Hunter, who you may or may not recall doublecrossed Brock at the end of season three. Basically he was working with the Blackhearts in sending various assassins Brock’s way, lying to him about the OSI being behind it, for the sole purpose of just having Brock kill the Blackhearts’ competition. So that’s why Brock is seeking retribution.

Brock’s confrontation goes poorly, and Brock gets blasted out the Blackheart’s highrise headquarters. It’s here where he gets scooped up by Sphinx, and we find out Hunter was actually working with Sphinx as a mole in the Blackhearts. He also has his dick back (or he’s stuffing; but it's strongly implied he has, or has had, a pecker). It’s truly a banner day for those who like it when people have penises (the default genital).

Meanwhile, the Ventures plot involves them taking on Hatred as their new bodyguard. We see him in the OSI airship, undergoing some kind of chemical castration (or perhaps something more super-sciency), so I guess we don’t have to worry about him molesting the boys. Sorta fucked up, but the idea of “this is just a cartoon and also it’s meant for adults” used to cover a lot more ground in 2009 than it does now. The scene which introduces the fact that Hatred is now their bodyguard just jumps right into it: showing him already established and in the early stages of whipping the boys into shape. We’re also introduced to the HELPeR head being fused with the Venture walking eye.

This scene, which has Hatred trying to make a breakthrough with Hank by having Hank shoot him, is maybe my favorite scene in the episode. It’s especially funny, and it introduces this new dynamic really beautifully. Noted in the commentary; Doc was charged with writing this scene and Jackson thought it would be a little more spelled-out with Hatred formally introducing himself as the new bodyguard. The just-jumping in approach yielded a wonderful scene. It's especially good to start an in-universe shake-up on the right foot, and that's what they goddamn did, gosh darn it.

Also going on at the homestead: Venture is approached by both 21 and a group of Nazis (separately) to do some cloning work. 21 wants to bring back 24, and gives Venture his NM copy of Marvel Comics #1 as payment. Venture is incredulous that a dusty old comic book could be worth anything, and immediately lets Hank have it. We already know that he fucks it up all nasty-like, thanks to the reverse-story telling. 21 is dismayed to learn that the clone of 24 will be a baby on account of the clone slugs’ destruction.

The Nazis are looking to clone Hitler, whose brain seems to be in the body of a bulldog that takes a liking to Dean, which causes friction when it’s decided that the moral thing to do would be to murder it. This resolves with a parody of the ending of Raiders of the Lost Ark, where Orpheus melts the Nazis into goo as well as destroying all of the clone pods (this was a very deliberate way of putting the whole clone thing to rest). This is one of the first scenes of the episode, so it’s not really a spoiler. A scene taking place immediately after these events plays after the credits, where Brock shows up, kills Hitler with the Hitler-killing Golden dagger (how’d he get that?) has some words with Hank, and then takes off.

I had historically considered this episode to be a bit of a failed experiment, at least in the way that it’s very confusing to the first-time viewer. Now that I’ve been through the series a few times (and have even deigned to watch a fan-edit that reorganizes the scenes in chronological order) this episode’s confusing structure gets less jarring with every viewing. Noted in the commentary: the intended effect was for the initial watch-through to confuse the viewer, and have it make sense by the end and especially on repeat viewings. Mission accomplished, I guess.

Anyway, I always approach this episode with low expectations, but this time I found a lot to love about it. I was dramatically composing grandiose sentences in my head about how season three managed to find the show going up it’s own ass, and that this episode starts the season on a similar footing. It takes a few viewings, but I more-or-less think this episode is great, and I admire the experiment. 

I will point out that after watching the chronology cut of the episode, that the Ventures story does seem like it’s missing some important pieces of the puzzle. Like, the story jumps past important beats, and having the episode show this story backwards does distract from these story holes. The Go Team Venture book does cop to the idea that this is roughly the reason for showing the one subplot in reverse order as a "fix".

This episode also kicks off Brock not being in the show for a while; he bids adieu to Hank and wouldn’t be seen for a little while. This decision, along with the playing of the timeline of the episode’s story, are characterized as being part of some larger mental collapse felt in particular by Jackson Publick, who asked Adult Swim to change the order from a single 13 episode season to a two-part season with 8 episodes in each part. He just wasn’t up to the task of writing more episodes, and was afraid of crashing and burning and fucking up with their money. Quitting smoking seemed to have a lot to do with it. He was also working on Superjail around this time, as well.

One last thing! The confusion of the episode’s scrambled order was exacerbated on the west coast by an error: Adult Swim aired the first act of the episode twice. So, after the commercial break, the first half started over. Given the nature of the episode, it probably seemed intentional at first. I don't remember seeing it live. More likely is I was recording it and was planning to watch it when it was over (or close to over), so I could fast forward through the commercials. I probably found out what happened online first. I have a vague recollection of feeling grateful that I knew where to find a torrent of the episode, recorded on the east coast.

Okay, one last LAST thing, actually: One tidbit I liked from the "Art of" book: the original idea for Brock's bad painting was to show him staying up all night passionately painting said painting and having that be the reveal. Funny!

[charcubed]

You know what, I'm starting to come around on the idea that Marvel's inconsistent writing with Bucky & Steve is on purpose and a fake out.

Because that interview with the Rogers musical writer is so randomly timed and dropped strangely self aware info about Bucky, and it feels like a little wink wink nudge nudge "we are playing into the in-universe revisionist history aspect"

That and Secret Invasion's finale showing Gi'ah has both Bucky AND Steve's DNA... that felt random because not only do Steve & Buck have the exact same powers but Skrulls are already superstrengthed... Unless they consider Bucky's gun shootin' skills to be significant, it feels like it would've just been Steve's powers as a "look a reference" moment, but it went out of its way to mention both of them 👀

I'm fine with being a little delulu, but even if this wasn't planned during phase 3, it's starting to feel like there's some people at Marvel who are aware of how the characters were treated and how absurd it is... I'm fully joining the "it's nonsensical on purpose" train.

It'd actually be really smart if it is, playing with the concept of their identities and history easily being warped and lied about for propaganda purposes, that's been happening since CATFA, I'm a believer. Marvel's people wouldn't be hammering on this aspect of the characters so much so much if they truly wanted it to be the "end" for them.

Oh my God, Anon... Holy shit lmao. I hit up Google because of your ask, wondering what interview you were talking about, and I just found it. Thank you so much for the heads up! Going bonkers over it, naturally.

I'm not sure I'd personally say I feel like it's strangely timed or a wink/nudge to anything... Most likely MCU Direct just saw the absolute carnage in their notifications every time they brought up the musical and decided to get that man on the phone. Which I fucking love tbh! Wish I had that power, personally!

Putting the quotes below:

"There was a much longer version of this show, and there is a much longer version of this show. Hopefully, you know, if anybody would ever let us do it, the longer version of this show had Bucky as a much bigger player in this. That's the other really big person in Cap's life from the get-go. I could absolutely see a Bucky and Cap song in there somewhere. But we just literally didn't have the time." "We know there are tons of fans who are upset because Peggy said a line that Bucky said. Obviously, we all knew that. It wasn't a mistake. We all knew; we all knew. We all made the choice that for this 35-minute show we wanted to get the line in, and the way to get it in was to land on the Peggy storyline." "Absolutely there could be a great Broadway version of this show in which Bucky has a really big part and will say the lines he needs to say. So it's interesting to think how that could work." "We didn't get very far with that because we sort of timed things out and how many songs we had. We knew we wanted the love song, the 'I want' song, the Nick Fury song, and we had the other two songs. And, we're like 'Jeez, we're almost out of time. We're already at 32 minutes.'" "We knew it was basically a Cap and Peggy love story from start to finish. Once we came up with that, we're like 'we can do that show and make it great in 30 minutes'."

"We all knew" is INNNNSANE lmao. Wild shit.

Something very poetic about the musical about the man out of time not having enough "time" to include the main relationship in his life... Much to think about... Anyway. Really fascinating stuff here lmao. Intentional or not (who is to say!), life and art sure do continue to imitate each other here, huh?

As for Secret Invasion, what little I know about that show is that it was lowkey kind of a clusterfuck by the end and considering how bad the finale sounded I'm disinclined to read too far into all the powers listed that they dumped on Gi'ah. But! The fact that the heroes' DNA was collected is interesting insofar that it means Steve (in particular) can be or could have been impersonated by Skrulls at any point 👀 My money (and hopes, kind of?) remain on HYDRA though, if they go for it. Still makes the most sense I think.

But yeah, the last thing you said is exactly why I think it'd be such a smart move! Clearly Marvel is now playing in the realm of trying to retcon old shit (like Rhodey 🙄) if they think they can or should to further future storylines, so in my humble opinion it would be very easy for them to play in the spaces they've deliberately left open in regards to how fucked up Steve's "ending" was. Steve's final scenes were and still are theeee biggest topic and even ~debate~ in pop culture in regards to Endgame, and if they didn't do something with that I think they'd be idiots at this point. IT'S ALL RIGHT THERE.

[guytheporn]

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[seafoam-aliens]

I feel like I shouldve learned this years ago, but I will no longer trust the internet for my interests.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴀ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ’ꜱ ɪɴꜱᴛɪɴᴄᴛ | ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ; ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ!ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ x ᴅᴇᴍɪ ɢᴏᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ⚠️NSFW [19+]⚠️

Heyoooo!!! It’s been a second hasn’t it? Lololol my bad uwu;; I’ve been doing a lot drawing lately, so I’ve been focusing a lot on that instead of writing— mainly since it requires less brain power for me SKKSSKSK anywho, in celebration of crowning Zhongli in game, I’ve decided to sin—- after talking with Admin T for a bit LOLOL thus, another Femdom fic is born SKSKSK 

As always, thank you all so much for the love and support~! We really appreciate it~!

Art is from my Art Blog: @ko-ffeine​

TW: BDSM ; Chains ; Flogging ; Overstimulation ; Blindfolds ; Shackles ; Collars / Leashes ; Muzzles ; Bondage / Restraints ; Riding ; Face Sitting ; Marking ; Vibratiors ; Breath Play

》》Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

Decades. It had been decades since her arrival to Teyvat. Thinking back to it, (y/n) hadn’t even realized the bonds she’s made after awakening in the depths of Dragonspine. Though it was best for her to not dwell on the past. After all, she learned early on with her revival that sticking to the past only brought unwanted trouble. 

The sound of chains clattering against marble awoke her out of her thoughts as she peered back to the bundle of chains on all fours. A long scaly tail whipping back and forth impatiently as heated glowing amber orbs bore deeply into her own (e/c) ones. 

“Morax…”

A soft sigh escaped her as she made her way over to the former archon. The loose hanfu that danced along her smooth skin had the dragon keen in want. The metal cage strapped to his mouth prevented his fangs from sinking into her supple flesh. The desire to mark and claim what was rightfully his was strung up high in his head as he strained against the enchanted chains that bound his wrists together. The hefty weight of the gold collar around his throat only further added  to his inability to surge forward as the chain attached to the device around his throat only allowed him so much distance. 

“You were being so good earlier. What’s gotten you riled up?”

Though soothing in tone, (y/n)’s expression was anything but as she marveled at the way the Geo Archon was presented before her. The night before his heat had gotten a hold of him, he had given her permission to be just as rough with him to ensure her safety—- and well, she wasted no time in taking advantage of the opportunity presented to her. 

In a flurry of motions she had skillfully wrapped the archon’s body in beautiful golden ropes. Each one accentuating the toned muscle from eons of war and battles. The delicious flush of red that painted his skin as she continued to further restrain the male only set her belly a flame. 

After all, the initial restraints were only mild. It wasn’t until the late evening did she realize how intensive she had to truly restrain her lover. Enchanted chains shackled him down. A leather muzzle had initially been placed to keep him from biting her, but was quickly forgone as he had ruined that within the span 15 minutes. Thus resulting in the current metal cage that adorned his haughty features. 

The collar and leash combo? That had only occurred when she had attempted to leave for the bathroom— only to be slammed into the floor with a lustful dragon dry humping against her as he snarled and growled at the fact he wasn’t able to sink his teeth into her flesh. 

The end resulted in the intensive flogging that only further fueled both party’s lust. 

“Little one~….”

A pang of warmth hit her as she broke out of her memories from last night to meet his impatient amber orbs.

“I should’ve attached the one with the bar in between just so you wouldn’t distract me.”  

Shaking her head, she made her way over to the male, and once she was within reach his tail immediately latched onto her leg. Easily trailing up to press against her cunt as he fervently surged forward to press himself against her. Yet of course, due to the damn muzzle in his way he could only be tantalizingly a breath away from his goal. 

The pressure his cock held did little to alleviate the pain as the desire to breed into her deeply sprang forth.

A hefty growl came from him as he pushed her even more until she tumbled onto her back. The morning sun only added to the ethereal effect as he pressed himself as close to her as he could. 

“Let me fuck you, Little one…wanna breed you until you’re full of my seed…bearing my children…”

A blush dusted across her features as he continued on before he was suddenly yanked back. A choked gasp came from him as he struggled against the Dendro vines that appeared as the vineyard appendages held him still. Each intimately wrapping around him to keep him seated in a frog tie. The leash having been jerked enough to keep him still as he let out a garbled growl.

“So feisty…this is getting interesting little one…”

“I think it’s time for you to stop talking Morax. I’d rather hear the sounds you truly want to make.”  

“Oh ho? How do you plan on doing that?” 

Taunting and ever so prideful, the mighty dragon refused to back down as he strained to get as close to her as he could. Her nearing form did little to deter the desire to fuck her thoroughly. Though before he could even do much the vines came forth to hold his head still. Smaller ones easily kept his lips open as he struggled to chomp and tear the greenery away. Yet with this, he failed to notice her swiftly remove the muzzle before replacing it with a strong and sturdy ring gag. His mouth now forcibly open as drool began escaping down his chin. 

“Haaah?”

“Not so tough now huh? Like the chains, my lovely Archon, this was also enchanted~. I had the chance to put some of my former power into this device. So I’m confident that it won’t break~.”

Grinning, she watched as the funeral consultant tested the new device before grunting as a flare of his nostrils showed his displeasure in the newly placed device.

“Now that that has been settled, I do believe you should be put to use.” 

A guttural sound of confusion came from Zhongli before darkness overcame him. Leafs? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his sense of touch was beginning to heighten and his sense of smell was driving him over the wall as he could practically taste how wet her cunt was. 

Almost as if a learned reaction, the dragon’s tongue fervently searched for her as he reached out. His once ‘normal’ tongue now long and thick as his fangs extended ever so slightly over the metal ring of the gag. Freedom from the device was so close, yet as this occurred…

“Guh?! Haah..nnn ”

The metal shifted to accommodate the change Zhongli brought on; and as if to spite him, the device seemed to meld to form a stricter grasp around his face as a metal band formed over his nose bridge, further enforcing the fact that the device was not coming off.

“Ahhh, is, ish nah wha ah wha—ed” 

“Oh? You’ll have to use your words more clearly, love~”

Her tone only further fanned the flames of lust in his belly as he continued to obscenely drool all over the marble floors. Though his attempts at reprimanding her were stilled as he let out a muffled grunt before an animal like moan and growl tore through his throat as he finally got a taste of her juices. 

Oh how he wished to sink his claws into her supple flesh. Mark the terrain with his love bites and scent. Yet with all the restraints scattered about his body, all he could do was eagerly lap at her pussy with his tongue to the best of his abilities. 

And by the sounds she was making, he was doing quite the job. Easily, with his long tongue he teased and taunted her slick walls. All of her weak points, the secret little motions that he knew brought her immense pleasure. 

Though (y/n) couldn’t see it, she knew that her lover’s eyes had rolled up into his head. Especially when she could feel his tongue stutter as she not only buried his face into her wet cunt, but as the heel of her foot began to grind on his weeping cock. 

Muffled moans and grunts came from the man eating her pussy as he strained against the various layers of restraints she bestowed upon him. Just the very sight of him dressed in her materials had her groaning before cumming against the male’s face. 

As she stepped back, she couldn’t help but admire the state she left her lover in. Panting, drooling with a dash of her cum splattered in and an angry red cock. 

A sadistic cord snapped within her as she cupped his cheek. 

“Mmmm…you’re my good boy, aren’t you Morax?”

“..h-haaah?”

“If you can handle my game well, you can fuck me and fill me with your seed~.”

The mere mention of being able to sheath himself into her had the dragon’s tail whipping back and forth quickly as he leaned into her touch even more.

“Let’s see how well you can hold your breath. If you do well, then you win~.” 

Immediately a twitch of his cock was enough to spur her forth as she searched for the last couple of items she needed. With a grin, she easily worked a plug into the ring. Easily, the object filled the dragon’s mouth as his loud pants became muffled grunts and moans. 

Though before she decided to attach the smooth leather muzzle over his mouth and nose, she went to work with laying him on his side. The action causing a confused muffled grunt to come from the dragon before a gasp and moan came from him as he squirmed and struggled at the sudden intrusion of the vibrator up into his ass. 

“I didn’t say that it would be easy, Morax.”

A teasing lit came from her as she watched how the dragon’s hole greedily ate up the vibrator before she turned the toy on low. The reaction was immediate as  the dragon flinched from the sudden motions as mewls and lewd moans continued to leak out from his lips. 

“Ah~ You’re so cute…so weak and pliable just for me~.” 

Cooing, (y/n) gently ran her fingers along the beautiful horns adorning her lover’s head. Now that they were in full bloom and not stumps like yesterday, she had the ability to properly gaze at them. Though as she got to the base of his horns a muffled cry came from the dragon as spurts of cum splattered against her and his abdomen. 

“Ho? I didn’t realize your horns were an erogenous stimulant Morax.”

More muffled whines and growls came from the trembling dragon as he impatiently flicked his tail against the marble. In response, the Demi god pressed a kiss to his forehead before humming.

“Let’s begin our game then~.”

With a grunt and some of her former strength, she sat Zhongli up before she grabbed the leather muzzle. The smooth homeless mask glistened back at her before she placed the item over the dragon’s plugged mouth and nose. The straps behind now buckled securely as silence— save for the vibrations— filled the room. 

Smirking, she tested the waters by lightly rubbing her fingers along the tip of his cock. The motion resulting in a highly muffled moan as the dragon trembled. The flourish of his scales along his arms only further served to show how much control he had lost. 

“My, my…so sensitive. Then…let’s do this~.”

Immediately, she positioned herself over his weeping cock and in an instant sheathed his cock. The motion causing the bound dragon to writhe and buck his hips immediately up into her as his cheeks reddened with the lack of oxygen going to his brain. 

If only she could see his expression. His eyes rolled so far up his head as nothing but pleasure and pain hit him as he felt the burn of his lungs for oxygen and his voice sound so meek amidst it all. Of course that high went away as she tugged lightly at the tip of the mask. Fresh air immediately streamed in as he coughed and sputtered with pleads and moans for more as his cock twitched inside of her. 

“S-Shit…easy there baby…”

The pet name only further fueled his whines as he leaned forward into her as he pressed his face the best he could into her neck as she struggled to keep the mask away from his nose to ensure he got enough oxygen to his brain. 

“Let’s see if I make you cum first or if you make me, how about it Morax~?”

Before he could even try to answer the mask was pressed tightly over his nose again and the slow tell tale sign of their game began as he could feel her hips work their magic. Her heavy panting and groans only seemed to egg him on as he began to partake in the game. His hips meeting hers evenly as the foggy feel from the lack of oxygen began to pull at his lungs again. 

The feeling of helplessness and being an all powerful god tamed by a Demi god had his mind reeling from the pleasure of humiliation as he came hard into her. As he did so, he could feel her walls tighten around him only further over stimulating the male after his high as he struggled to keep up. 

Soon he was met with the lovely breath of air once again as the mask slipped away and he could finally smell her intoxicating scent. Sweat mixed with his musk never failed to fan at his belly as he fervently dug his face into her neck. Quickly chasing after the high, yet a gasp and muffled broken moan came from the male as he felt her move her hips once again. 

“Oh, you thought I was done baby? Not yet~. Didn’t you mention that your heats lasted a week?”

As she mentioned this he couldn’t help but feel his cock swell inside of her again, yet he couldn’t help the keen that came out of his throat at the overstimulation he was about to receive. 

“I’ll take good care of you, love. Even if it means me drilling into your dragon mind that I’m the one who is in control~.” 

Again, the slapping of skin filled the room as muffled whines came from the dragon. His claws straining against the binds as he wanted nothing more than to sink his claws into her hips to cum into her again. 

Yet no, he was at his lover’s mercy; and honestly he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It wasn’t until she turned the vibrator on high that he came again. A large load coming from him again as he filled her full. His seed seeping deep into her as he  rubbed his cheek against her neck even more refusing to allow her to leave as he wished to keep her plugged up. Just as she did to him.

“I suppose I’ll stay like this….but only for a moment. Then we try to feed you…alright?”

Softly murmuring against his hair she couldn’t help lovingly caress his hair as she basked in the moment of calm that a momentarily tired out dragon could bring. After all, she still had to deal with this for the next 6 days. 

[bthehufflepuff208]

So how much do you want to fucking bet that for the “Vision is Ultron” episode of “What If”, they’re basically going to sell it as:

“No matter what, whether the mind stone was used or not, Ultron/Vision would have always been created as a monster because his sole creator Tony Stark is a monster.”

To add, they’re also going to kill Tony off again, with Vision/Ultron talking about all the bullshit that was said in “Age of Ultron”, of how he’s a “sickness” and a “monster” and how he did the right thing by killing him and all that jazz.  

And I’m so fucking over it.

Like, I get it.  Tony Stark is a perfect choice for a scapegoat to hate for a good chunk of MCU fans, as he has all the things people hate:

He’s a billionaire (a born into money billionaire), which ya know, “eat the rich” and all.  He’s a man, he’s white, he’s cisgender, he’s straight (questionable to some fans, but there’s no fucking way any Marvel executives would say Tony’s bisexual or pansexual, no way).  

So due to this, most MCU fans hate his guts as he represents at least one group of people that they loathe.  I’m not saying these are the sole reasons anti-Tony people hate him, but they can’t say that it’s not at least one of the reasons.

But making him the scapegoat over and over is so fucking absurd, especially when the whole fucking point of Tony’s story is that he wants to become better, not just for his loved ones but for the world.

But with the stigma he already has with what he was born with/into, fans have absolutely no fucking trouble twisting any bad situation into blaming Tony, since he represents all the things they hate in real life anyway. 

Tony’s entire arc was supposed to show with each movie, that he wanted to become better and to truly help people.  But literally every single action Tony makes, everyone interprets it as “he’s only doing it for his ego/to protect himself.”

Tony flies a nuclear bomb into a wormhole? “Oh, he only did that because he wanted the praise of being the hero who saved the day.”  Tony wanting a defense system to protect Earth? “Oh, he only wants that because he doesn’t want to do anything to help Earth himself and wants all of the credit.”  Tony literally dying destroying an army that was going to destroy the universe? “Oh, but that doesn’t make him a hero, everything he did was always about him.  He’s still a selfish piece of shit because he didn’t want to erase his daughter (and probably millions of other children) out of existence.”  No matter what Tony does, everyone twists it as something he’s doing only for himself.

But even a little example of how everyone just twists anything and everything they can about Tony:   I saw a post talking about how they were glad Thor wasn’t friends with that “toxic piece of shit” because all Tony did throughout Endgame was mock Thor’s depression/PTSD. 

And I was like.......what fucking movie were you watching?

He did call Thor “Lebowski”, which, yes, was definitely mean-spirited.  But the entire movie?  Huhhhh?

Here’s where they twist their views to whatever they want to see.  I’ve watched Endgame over and over, and besides the Lebowski joke, I cannot come up with one point in which Tony mocks Thor.  But thinking about it, I have a pretty good idea of how anti-Tony people twisted their look on the film to see Tony mocking Thor throughout the entire thing.

In the scene where Thor is insisting on doing the snap to bring everyone back, Tony steps in and tells him he’s not in condition to do so.  In my head, and the way I’m pretty sure it was supposed to be interpreted, Tony does this because he’s concerned for Thor because he knows how bad of a place he’s in and doesn’t want to push him even further.  But to someone who hates Tony, they most likely interpreted the scene as Tony mocking Thor and calling him “weak.”  I have no fucking clue how they came to that conclusion, but I’m pretty sure that’s what they saw. 

And now, lets go back to Ultron and talk about a character and situation that infuriates me to no end.  Wanda and her involvement with Ultron.

Not only did the writers and characters of “Age of Ultron” have absolutely no problem in solely blaming Tony for what Ultron became, the majority of the people who watched it had no problem with it too. Even when in the fucking movie, it’s literally stated that Wanda manipulated his mind in hopes he would take the mind stone 

“I didn’t expect (gestures to Ultron), but I saw Stark’s fear, I knew it would control him, make him self-destruct.”

She fucking says she wanted him to take the mind stone because she knew it would cause something terrible to happen.

I’m pretty sure 99% of the reason Ultron became what he became was because of the mind stone, which was only even used in Tony’s program because Wanda basically mind controlled him into using it.  

And fucking yet.

Everyone, the characters and fans alike, were over the moon with Wanda’s bullshit “Stark can’t see the difference between saving the world and destroying it, where do you think he gets that from?” as it proved to them that Tony Stark was the monstrous villain they thought he was all along.

 AND FUCKING YET.

Tony’s whole fucking goal with the Ultron program in the first place was to protect Earth from threats he believed they wouldn’t be able to fight (and he was fucking right).  Wanda’s goal was to kill Tony, which fine, won’t get into that bullshit completely. But I’m 99% positive the scene where she lets the Hulk loose in Johannesburg that probably killed dozens of people, showed us that Wanda doesn’t really fucking care who gets killed, even if they’re innocent, as long as Tony Stark is in the body count.  And then when she finds out Ultron plans on killing everyone, which includes her and her brother, then she “see’s the light.”  BUT THEN STILL SOLELY BLAMES TONY FOR EVERYTHING SHE BASICALLY CAUSED, and the characters and the audience are like “YAS, WE STAN A QUEEN WHO EATS (AND KILLS) THE RICH!”

So coming around full circle, I’ve just had fucking enough of this scapegoating bullshit the writers have and will continue to be pulling on Tony Stark.  The “What If” Episode with Vision/Ultron will once again put the “Tony Stark was the main villain of the MCU and everything ever is his fault.”

And the fact that so many fans can and will twist anything Tony does to fit their narrative, and that the writers give them the ammunition with the scapegoating bullshit even though there’s so much evidence that shows `how truly good of a person Tony is just so fucking infuriating, disheartening, and just sad.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke: Imagine

In which Fenris and Rynne Hawke laze around naked in bed on a rainy day because I LOVE THEM. It’s been almost a year since I wrote them and they deserve no less. 😭❤❤ Dedicated to @varric-tethras-editor, who sent me the perfect song rec and thus made this oneshot possible. ILU BABE. ❤❤❤

~5300 words. NSFW. Read here on AO3 instead.

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

Fenris sighed and gazed languidly at the velvet canopy overhead. He was lying naked in Hawke’s bed, his body half-covered with her rumpled blankets and half-covered by a sleeping and equally naked Hawke, and he was incredibly content.

Hawke shifted slightly in her sleep, sliding her thigh over his to sandwich his leg between her own, and he smiled to himself as he trailed his fingers over her shoulder. Her room was quiet but for the drumming of rain against the window, and aside from the thin sliver of hazy rain-dimmed light peeking through the curtains, the room’s only source of light was the oil lamp on her bedside table. As Fenris enjoyed the sound of the rain and the cozy glow of Hawke’s bedroom and the heat of her bare skin, he mused idly about the fact that this bed was the finest place in all of Thedas, and perhaps he and Hawke should seriously consider never leaving this bed again.

“Fenris?” she said.

He hadn’t realized she was awake. “Hm?” he murmured.

“Did you imagine that this would happen?” she asked.

He smirked. “When you began removing your clothes in the kitchen, I had a pretty good notion that we would end up here.”

She lifted her head from his chest and gave him a lascivious grin. “Ooh, that’s a saucy response. Trying to seduce me again, are you?”

Her pixie-short hair was a charmingly tufty mess, and Fenris smiled fondly at her as he replied. “I get the impression I wouldn’t have to try very hard if I was.”

She laughed. “Excuse you! Are you calling me easy?”

“Would you really rather play hard to get?” he drawled.

She broke into laughter, then rolled on top of him. “Look at you, being such a smooth talker,” she teased. “You’re in quite the mood tonight.”

“Look outside, Hawke,” he said dryly. “It’s not nearly evening yet.”

“I don’t want to look outside,” she said. “I’m busy looking at something far nicer.”

She was looking at him, of course. He gave her a chiding smile. “You flatter me.”

“Every chance I get,” she purred.

He chuckled, and her smile widened. “What, no clever response? Does this mean I won?”

“I wasn’t aware that this was a competition,” he said.

She tutted. “Of course it’s a competition! It’s a battle of wits.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “It is not.”

“It absolutely is!” she said. “And you started it with your whole, ‘when you began removing your clothes in the kitchen…’” She dropped her voice to an exaggeratedly low and growly tone of voice, and Fenris smirked at the terrible imitation.

“That wasn’t a witty remark,” he said. “It was the truth.”

She scoffed. “Please. You said it as though I’ve never taken my clothes off in the kitchen before.”

“That is my point,” he said. “Every time you take your clothes off in the kitchen, your meaning is pretty clear.”

“That’s not true!” she protested. “Sometimes I take off my clothes in the kitchen if it’s hot. Or if… um…”

He raised one eyebrow expectantly, and she waved him off. “Anyway, that’s hardly relevant. What’s relevant is that this is a battle of wits, and I won.”

“It is not,” he replied. “And you did not.”

She pointed at him. “Ah-ha! Which is it, then? Is it not a battle of wits, or is it a battle of wits and I didn’t win?”

He blinked at her, then frowned. “It’s… you’re being difficult on purpose.”

She let out a husky little laugh. “Trying to avoid the question, are you? Nice try, serrah. I think you just don’t like losing.”

“Have you not witnessed me playing wicked grace with Varric?” he said flatly. “I’m no stranger to losing.”

“Which is why you don’t want to lose now,” she replied. She playfully poked his abs. “Come on, Fenris, keep trading insults with me.”

He grabbed her poking finger and gave her a chiding look. “We weren’t trading insults. We were trading witticisms.”

“So you admit that it was a battle of wits!” she crowed.

He gave her an exasperated look, then abruptly rolled her onto her back and settled between her legs, and she broke into laughter. 

He smiled at her, helpless in the face of her brilliant mirth, and when she settled, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Don’t vilify me by suggesting I would trade insults with you,” he said quietly. “You’ll hear no insults from me.”

“I won’t?” she said, still smiling her signature cheeky smile. “What will I hear instead?”

He huffed. She was utterly irrepressible, even when she was trapped beneath him. He skimmed his lips over her cheek, then placed a small kiss at the delicate spot where her jawline met her smooth neck.

Her back arched slightly, and Fenris smiled to himself before brushing his lips over her ear. “The only words you’ll be hearing tonight are words of praise,” he murmured.

A soft sigh left her lips — a sigh so soft that he felt it against his cheek more than he heard it. When she spoke, it was in a husky tone that seemed to pulse between his legs. 

“Look outside, Fenris,” she breathed. “It’s not nearly evening yet.”

He scoffed. Even now, when the heat and lust between them was swelling like the rising of the tide, she was taunting him. 

“Shut up, Hawke,” he whispered, and he kissed her.

His kiss was firm, his lips sealing over hers and coaxing them apart so his tongue could stroke the heated length of hers. He kissed her carefully and thoroughly, savouring the softness of her lips contrasted with the firm stroke of her tongue tangling with his. 

Hawke made a soft little noise, a contented little whimpery-sigh, and Fenris revelled in the sound and the feeling of her feet sliding over his calves. He lifted his chest slightly to twine his fingers with hers, then pressed her hands firmly into the mattress and pressed himself into the cradle of her hips. His cock wasn’t at full mast quite yet — no great surprise, considering that this was their third bout of the day. But still, despite his semi-hard state, she broke the kiss with a breathy little gasp when his cock nestled against her feminine folds — ah, her slick folds, still slippery from their earlier tryst…  

He exhaled against her cheek, then kissed her more firmly than before. She was so soft and plush against his hardness, so slick and warm and perfect, and… damn it, he wasn’t ready yet. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still enjoy her, and in a way that he knew without a doubt that she would enjoy as well. 

He released her wrists and sat back on his heels, shoving the sheets and blankets aside as he did, and Rynne sat up on her elbows. “What — where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he said. “I’m not such a fool as to leave you here like this. Lie back.” He shifted down on the bed, then pushed her thighs apart. 

She gasped and twisted her hips, lifting them from the bed, and Fenris gazed hungrily at her sex. She was slick and swollen, her folds flushed a mouth-watering rosy red and her clit a delicate little bud that was just begging to be touched, and Fenris swallowed hard before pressing his lips to the inner margin of her thigh.

Venhedis, she smelled heavenly. He inhaled slowly and kissed her thigh again, a small open-mouthed kiss to taste the slippery nectar on her skin, and she reached down and gently pulled his hair. “Fenris, wait,” she whimpered. “Wait, wait…”

He looked up in surprise. It wasn’t like her to stop him when he was about to go down on her. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

“No no, nothing’s wrong, nothing at all,” she panted. “I just — are you sure you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked in bemusement.

“Because you already…” She winced slightly. “I mean, you already left your joy juice down below.”

He stared at her for a second, then wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Joy juice?”

A grin broke across her lust-flushed face. “Not a fan of that term?”

“Absolutely not,” he said flatly. “Are you trying to put me off?”

She barked out a laugh. “No, no! I just— I mean, you already came inside me earlier. Are you sure you want to go down when you’re just going to taste your own, you know, stuff?”

“‘Stuff?’” he said in disbelief. 

She laughed again, more heartily than before. “Stop making fun of me!”

“Then stop being ridiculous,” he replied.

“That’s not possible, I’m afraid,” she said loftily. “Ridiculous is my middle name. Rynne ‘Ridiculous’ Hawke, that’s what they—”

He dipped his head down and licked her, and she gasped and bucked her hips. “Fuck!”

She was right; he could taste the slightly-bitter flavour of his own semen from earlier that afternoon. But underneath his own taste was hers, the sweet and salty musk of her, of Hawke, the exquisite flavour of her pleasure and her desire, and Fenris wasn’t bothered by his own taste when Hawke’s private flavour was so enticing. 

He licked her again, a slow and careful caress of his tongue that ended with a gentle teasing flick of her clit, and she fisted her hands in the sheets. “Fenris…”

He grumbled softly in response as he licked her again, and she moaned and lifted her hips toward his mouth. He happily met her body’s wordless request, smoothing two fingers lovingly over her folds before placing another wet-opened mouthed kiss between her legs, and she burst out another musical moan.

“Mm,” she whimpered. “Mm, please…” She was rolling her hips, one hand fisted in the sheets as her other hand rested on his hair, and as he smoothed his tongue between her lower lips and kissed her clit, he marvelled at the fact that she wanted him this much. He’d done this once today already and fucked her twice, and still she was this eager for him? It was… truly, it was flattering — flattering and comforting. To be so desired by Hawke, to be so reassured that his desire for her was wholeheartedly returned: it was still something of a novelty, even with two months’ worth of togetherness between them, and he could feel a pleasant sort of ache swelling in his chest as he tasted her sex.

He lapped tenderly at her pussy, then kissed her tender clit before circling his tongue around the tiny bud in a way that he knew she especially liked. She mewled loudly and bucked her hips, and Fenris felt a warm sort of pride at knowing her well enough that he knew how to make her react in such an enthusiastic way.

“Yes,” she gasped, and her fingertips pressed into his scalp. “Fenris, please, please...”

He grumbled his assent, stroking her inner thighs and tracing her clit with his tongue, and she whimpered more loudly and flexed her hips. “Maker’s balls, ah, Fenris—”

He brushed his lower lip over her clit, and she shuddered and gasped. “Yes! Yes, fuck, I—”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know what you want, Hawke. Just relax.”

She burst out a breathy laugh and stroked his hair. “You’re licking me like this, and you want me to relax? How am I—”

He slid one finger inside of her and curled his finger, and she arched her spine and cried out. “Fuck yes!” 

He pulled his finger free, then began kissing and caressing her clit with his lower lip in a slightly faster rhythm. Hawke mewled and gripped the sheets and tugged his hair, making her rising pleasure known with her voice and her body and her slickness that was painting his chin and the bed beneath her bottom, and Fenris felt his pulse thrumming and rising in time with the rising of her pleasure: her pleasure, the pleasure that was heralded by her taste on his tongue and her beautiful whimpery cries and the tense yet graceful grinding of her hips as she met his lips and tongue…

She dragged in a gasp, then scraped her nails over her chest and released a strained cry of rapture. Fenris reached up and grabbed her hand to stop her from marring her golden skin with her nails, all without slowing the careful rhythm of his mouth moving between her legs, and he didn’t stop until Hawke’s hips settled back onto the bed. 

She released a long and breathy moan and ran her fingers through his hair, and he wiped his mouth on her inner thigh before lifting his head to look at her. 

Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. Her expression was a perfect picture of pleasure and languid lust, and Fenris admired her as he spoke. “It sounds like you enjoyed that.”

She opened her eyes, then propped herself on one elbow and give him a sly smile. “Are you preening, Fenris?”

“I don’t preen,” he said with dignity, but she was right; he was preening. Could he really be blamed for preening, though, when his humble tongue and lips had drawn such a symphony of  pleasured sounds from Hawke’s throat?

She laughed, then shifted onto her knees and crooked her finger at him. “Come here, handsome. Give me a kiss.”

He smirked and shifted onto his knees so he was facing her, then placed his hands on her hips and leaned in for a kiss. But before he could meet her raspberry-red lips, she wrapped her fingers around his cock.

A rush of surprise and pleasure pulsed between his legs. He gasped, and Hawke kissed his parted lips, slanting her mouth over his and probing her slick tongue into his mouth as she stroked his steel-hard cock, and he gripped her hips and mindlessly fell into her kiss as her silk-soft palm stoked the simmer of want in his abdomen into a full-blown fiery lust. 

He groaned into her mouth and pulled her closer, gripping her ass to try and lift her onto his lap, but she suddenly released him and pushed at his chest. “Lie back,” she said huskily. “I want to suck your cock.”

Her blunt words were like fuel for his lust, sending a pulse of eager heat through his limbs, and he obediently shifted onto his back as Hawke settled herself on her knees beside him. Before he was even fully settled, she stroking his cock and his thigh and leaning over him and tracing his length with her tongue and oh, oh yes, his — she — venhedis please, the hot slickness of her mouth… 

He fell back on the pillows and lifted his hips toward her mouth, enjoying the pressure and pull of her lips and mouth as they moved smoothly up and down his shaft. For a long, mindless, perfect moment, he just savoured the feeling of her mouth between his legs, but when she lifted her mouth to stroke his cock with her hand instead, he dimly realized why she might feel that she had to use her hand instead of her mouth. 

He breathed slowly to gather the wits to speak. “Hawke,” he groaned. “I’m… sorry, it may… it may take some time.”

“Some—? Oh, because you already came twice today?” she said. 

He huffed a breathless laugh. “Are you preening?”

“Me?” she said innocently. “I never preen. Not even when I make you come so hard that you start cursing in Tevene.”

He scoffed at the reminder of this morning’s tryst, then jerked his hips and moaned when she circled her palm over the sensitive head of his cock. “F-fasta vass...”

“Ooh, was that more Tevene cursing I heard?” she said.

He tried to laugh, but it came out as another moan. “Quit preening,” he complained breathlessly, and he lifted his hips.

She grinned slowly at him and resumed her stroking his cock. “I like when you use that bossy tone. Don’t worry, take your time to finish. I’m a patient woman.”

“You are not,” he groaned. “You’re notorious for your lack of patience.”

“Oh, Fenris,” she purred. “When it comes to having this gorgeous cock of yours in my mouth, I’ve got all sorts of patience.” She dipped her head down and took his cock into her mouth once more.

Fenris gasped and bucked his hips instinctively, driving his cock further into her throat, but his bucking didn’t seem to bother Hawke; she angled her head and continued to suckle him thoroughly and deeply, moving her lips up and down his shaft and taking him so deep into her throat that he could feel her throat as an embrace from the root of his cock to the tip, and Fenris stared adoringly at her as she sucked him. Her commitment to her task was obvious, like she was trying to put every diligent scrap of attention into bringing him to his slow but inevitable climax, and he eventually curled his arm behind his head so as to watch her more comfortably as she sucked his cock.

Then she turned her head slightly and met his eye.

He stopped breathing. Her eyes, her honey-golden eyes, the way they were lit by the oil lamps and by the inner fire of her own passionate soul: her eyes were knowing and sly and tender all at once, and Fenris stared breathlessly at her, snared by the lust and love in her face as she continued to suckle his cock. He was snared by the way she was looking at him, the way she was suckling him and the way she was making his breath come in harsh gasping grunts—

She suddenly released his cock and sat back on her heels, and he burst out a moan at the sudden abandonment. “Hawke,” he begged. 

“Sorry,” she blurted. “I’m sorry, I just — I can’t—”

“Don’t — i-it’s all right,” he panted, even though his cock was throbbing relentlessly for release. He squeezed her thigh with a trembling hand. “Is your jaw hurting?”

“No,” she said. “No, it’s not —  I just…” She broke off and straddled his hips, then rubbed herself against the length of his cock. 

He burst out a guttural groan and grabbed her hips. “Hawke, please…”

She planted her palms on his pecs and rubbed her slick hot cleft along his length again. “I’m sorry,” she panted. “I m-meant to finish you in my mouth but I — fuck, Fenris, just look at you.” She smoothed her palms over his chest. 

“I���d rather look at you,” he said breathlessly. “You — Hawke, you’re — ah...” He broke off with a moan as she stroked his cock with her pussy, then placed one hand over hers and gripped it.

Her gaze rose from his chest to his face, and he squeezed her hand again. “The sight of you surpasses my wildest imaginings,” he told her seriously. “Seeing you here, feeling you like this: no amount of fantasies could compare with this reality. The reality of you.”

Her heated expression softened and curled into a smile — a smile that was distinctly tender with affection. “You’re such a smooth talker,” she said, and she lifted her hips and traced her fingers over his cock.

He inhaled shakily, and Hawke bent forward and kissed him. A second later, he was inside of her. 

He moaned in bliss, and Hawke captured the sound with his tongue. Her hands were cradling his neck, her hips rolling against his in a smooth rhythm that felt like he was feeling every slick inch of her intimate heat, and he drew his fingertips from her shoulder blades down along her back before settling his palms firmly on her buttocks. 

He gently squeezed her bottom, then pulled her more firmly onto his cock, and she broke the kiss with a gasp. “Mm,” she whimpered. “Oh Maker…”

Goaded by her pleasure, he pulled her against his hips again and pumped himself more firmly into her, and she released his neck to plant one hand on the bed beside his head. “Fuck,” she moaned. “Fuck, Fenris, that’s…”

“Is it good?” he panted.

“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, you’re so — so fucking deep, ah!” She cried out again and clenched both fists in the the sheets, and Fenris thrust into her more firmly. 

She let out a mewling cry and squeezed her eyes shut, her beautiful face twisting with a combination of pleasure and need, and Fenris admired her as he gripped her ass and thrust into her. When a broken little sob burst from her throat, he lifted one hand and squeezed her arm. “Hawke,” he gritted out.

“Mhm?” she moaned.

“Take what you need from me,” Fenris gasped. “Fuck me as you need to. I am yours.”

Her eyes opened, and the scorching need in her face stalled his breath for a moment. Then she planted her palms on his pecs once more and began fucking him hard.

He gasped, then groaned, then stop paying attention entirely to his own breath, too preoccupied by her heat and her tightness and how incredible she felt as she rocked against him in a furious rhythm of need. Her fingers were digging into his chest and he could feel sweat collecting at the meeting point of their thighs, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care — he couldn’t care, not when Hawke felt so good, fucking him hard and fast and making him feel like he was striking the deepest part of her. Her face was contorted with pleasure and an exquisite sort of longing that he felt deep inside his chest, like a fist of longing and love wrapping around his heart, and it was like his entire body was filling up, swelling with Hawke’s love and her need and the pleasure he took from her as she fucked him swiftly, so swiftly: fasta vass, the swiftness, the rush, the rise of it, the rising of her, please, Hawke please, please...

She sobbed again and shuddered, and Fenris moaned helplessly as the pressure and heat of her became almost overwhelmingly good. “Rynne,” he begged. “P-please…”

She stroked his cheek. “Anything,” she whimpered. “Anything you want, Fenris, it’s yours,  anything—”

“More,” he groaned. “More of this, more…”

She lifted herself and came down hard on his cock, and a sharp cry burst from his throat. “More!”

She began fucking him hard again, hard swift thrusts as she rose and fell on his supine body, and he stared at her as she rode him wantonly, barely breathing, heart pounding in his ears and throat. Heat was rising in his cheeks and swelling in his chest, ratcheting higher and closer in the depths of his abdomen and between his legs — heat, pleasure, ecstasy, Hawke... 

His orgasm struck in a stunning rush, pleasure bursting through his abdomen and his limbs and forcing his spine into an arch as he groaned and shuddered and mindlessly gripped her thighs. When Hawke cupped his face and kissed him, he gave himself over to her completely, parting his lips and welcoming her hot ferocious tongue and her fierce but gentle teeth as she nipped his lower lip. 

She gently sucked his lower lip, and he moaned and shuddered before wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. He held her close as the ripples of pleasure spanned his limbs, savouring the sticky heat of her skin and the slick heat of her tongue stroking his, and only when his climax had completely ebbed away did he loosen his embrace. 

Hawke gentled the kiss equally slowly, lapping lightly at his lips instead of delving deep with her tongue, and by the time she lifted her lips from his, he was languorous with bliss. 

He smiled faintly without opening his eyes, and she chuckled and gently pinched his chin. “Look at this smug little smile,” she teased, and she lifted herself off of his cock with a groan.

He opened his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, but she was grimacing as she settled herself beside him in bed. 

Concerned, he rolled toward her and cradled her neck in his palm. “Hawke, if you’re hurt—”

“I’m not hurt,” she assured him. “I just — it’s my thighs. I fucked you too hard.”

He burst out a little laugh. “Excuse me?”

She grinned and settled on her side facing him. “I fucked you too hard. My thighs are going to be in a whole world of pain tomorrow.”

“Ah. I understand,” he said, and he smoothed his palm over her hip. “That’s a decent cause for pain. I retract my pity.”

She laughed and poked his chest. “Well, that’s rude. See if I ever fuck you that hard again.”

He gave her a knowing look, and she laughed again. “I know, I know. I’m full of shit. Actually, one could argue that if I fuck you hard like that every day, it’ll be excellent exercise for my thighs!”

“Excellent reasoning indeed,” he drawled. “And I suppose I’m just a prop for this exercise of yours?”

She grinned and propped her cheek on her fist. “You can try and resist me, if you like.”

He eyed her in amusement. Her expression was somehow both innocent and cheeky at once. “I can try?” he said dryly.

“Yes, you can try,” she said cheerfully. “But you won’t succeed. I’m irresistible, in case you didn’t notice.”

He scoffed and pinched her waist. She squeaked and flinched, and Fenris pinched her again, then began tickling her mercilessly.

She burst into laughter, then rolled onto her back and pulled her knees up to her chest to guard herself. “Stop, stop!” she gasped. “I give in! I’m done teasing you, I promise!”

“Good,” he growled. “Now I can get some rest.” He rolled onto his back, then drew her close until she was curled up against his chest.

She sighed happily and settled her ear on his chest, and he smiled and closed his eyes. Then he remembered the conversation that had precipitated all of this — the conversation that they hadn’t finished. 

“Hawke, what did you mean before?” he asked.

“When?” she mumbled.

“Before, when you asked if I could imagine something.”

She lifted her head. “Oh yes! When you began teasing me, you mean?”

He smiled faintly, but didn’t rise to her playful bait this time. “Yes, that. I wasn’t sure what you meant.”

Her cheeky smile softened, and she propped her cheek on her fist once more. “I was just wondering if… you know, if…” She shrugged and dropped his gaze, and he eyed her curiously. It was unlike her to be this hesitant.

“What is it?” he said gently. 

She glanced at him again, and her expression was endearingly coy. “Did you ever really think we’d be… you know, like this?” she asked. 

“Like this in what way?” Fenris asked.

“This comfortable so quickly,” she said. She trailed her fingers along his naked chest. “It just feels easy being together. Like we’re on the same page. It’s very cozy.” She lifted her eyes from his chest to his face, and his heart squeezed at the candid affection in her eyes. “Did you ever think it would be this easy to be together after how long it took us to get our shit together?”

He sobered a little bit at this. “You don’t need to take any responsibility for the time we wasted being apart. That was my doing.”

She tsked. “Oh come on, you handsome fool, it wasn’t your fault. It’s just the way it needed to be. And besides, we’re here now!” She sighed happily and traced her fingers over his bare skin. “Here we are, and everything’s great. We’re all naked in my bed and covered in your joy juice—”

He grunted in disgust and pinched her bum, and she giggled and tapped his chest. “I mean it, Fenris. Did you ever imagine it would be this easy?”

He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I… when I imagined this — imagined us together, that is, I… the things I imagined were…” He frowned as he tried to formulate his thoughts. “I didn’t really think about how it would be,” he finally said. “I just wanted it. I wanted you. For years, it has felt like I was running toward you —  running toward the idea of you, of… of us being together.”

To his surprise, her smile faded a bit, leaving a look of vulnerability on her face. “And now that we’re together, do you…” She dropped his gaze again. “Does it feel like something’s over now that you caught me?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not at all. It is the opposite of that.” He rose onto his elbows to look her straight in the eye. “Things are possible now that I could never have imagined without you. My imaginings were nothing compared to this, and now I cannot imagine a life without you by my side.”

Her face lit up in a smile — a brilliant, joyful smile that made his heart feel like it was filling with hot water. She gently pinched his chin. “Good,” she said softly. “I feel the same way.”

I know, he thought tenderly. He didn’t need Hawke to tell him that she felt the same way, because he had known it for years. She had shown him her feelings for years, supporting him and cheering him up and waiting for him while he sorted through the emotional quagmire of his past. She had shown him countless times how she felt about him, and he didn’t need her to tell him for him to know it was true. 

He slid his palm around the nape of her neck and drew her in for a kiss. She was smiling even as she kissed him, and he couldn’t help but smile as well.

When Hawke started to laugh against his lips, however, Fenris was forced to pull away. “What is it?” he said in exasperation. “Why are you laughing now?”

“No reason,” she said. She arranged her face into a feeble veneer of innocence. “I was just thinking we could get a bath.”

“A bath? Now?” he said in surprise. She usually enjoyed lingering in bed with him for as long as possible. 

She nodded. “I thought maybe you’d want to wash off some of your joy juice.”

He twisted his lips in distaste, and she laughed and patted his cheek. “I love your face when you squinch it up like this,” she giggled.

He scoffed and pulled her hand away. “I’m only making this face because you keep saying that… vile-sounding phrase.”

“What phrase? Joy juice?” she said. Her lips were curling in a shit-eating grin, and Fenris gazed at her with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. 

“Stop saying that,” he said sternly.

“Joy juice,” Hawke said promptly. “Joy juice, joy juice, joy—”

Fenris pounced on her and pinned her to the bed, and she burst into laughter. Her barking laughter was loud and uninhibited and joyful, a ring of mirth more clear and crystalline than a Chantry bell, and he felt like her mirth was echoing in his chest and resonating in time with the beat of his heart.

He grinned at her, then lowered himself over her and kissed her again. She was warm and pliant and fragrant with sandalwood and sex, and as Fenris sank into the loving embrace of her open arms, he savoured just how wonderful she was, and how real.

Hawke was better than his fondest fantasies, because she was real. She was real, with her stupid jokes and her bravado-masked melancholy and her gentle mage’s hands. Her lips were real, her legs around his waist and her hands on his neck and her fingers in his hair, and he didn’t need fondly detailed imaginings when his reality was so incredibly dear.

With Hawke in his arms and his heart, Fenris didn’t need any sort of imaginings at all.

[onlyswan]

i know the end | jjk

→ pairing: jungkook x f!reader

→ genre: angst, a dash of fluff

→ warnings: making out kinda, mention of sex

→ word count: 1.3k

summary: but you had to go, i know, i know, i know.

> next: the end i didn’t know

listen to i know the end by phoebe bridgers if u want <3

—

your hands played with the broken seatbelt, slightly tugging and folding the polyester until you couldn’t anymore, only to do it all over again. the people, the establishments, the houses, the green and orange leaves the night lights managed to illuminate, they all burned like ashes in your memory the second the cab passed by them. you hated the cab driver’s choice of air freshener and you wanted to scream at him for making you feel shittier, but you stayed quiet.

the air between you and jungkook was heavy. you wouldn’t call it tension. it was more of grief. and tiny bit of resentment you carried along with you. he hugged you the moment he saw you earlier, the tightest he has ever hugged you, dare you say. you were about to burst into tears then, but you willed yourself to hold on a little while longer.

you turned to look at him, meeting his eyes on the reflection of the clear glass window. he gave you a half smile. he was more beautiful than you could ever possibly comprehend. you’ve spent most of the past three years learning and memorizing every single detail of his body, his heart, his soul. and you marveled at them. at every given chance.

everything about that cab ride took you back to your very first kiss. the crescent moon. the broken seat belt. the hoodie he was wrapped in being the same one he was wearing back then. and the fact that you were having a hard time breathing, the feeling achingly familiar.

“i can’t breathe,” you whispered against his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath fanning over your face. the seat belt you were having trouble with was forgotten. he was clouding your mind, tugging at your heart. “i’ve never felt this way before.”

a fond smile formed on his face, his hand delicately bringing yours over his chest. the street lamp just standing outside his car made his eyes shimmer, and it left you in awe.

“do you feel that?” his heart was beating wildly under your palm. you nodded; eyes trained on his pink lips. you don’t know what came over you that night, ever the play hard to get, but you were the first one to cross the distance between the two of you.

you kissed him. your heartbeat in your ears, his under the palm of your hand. that night was the first time you truly felt what it was like to be connected with someone, to be hyperaware of another person’s existence, to adore all their sharp and smooth edges. he smelled of flowers and he tasted like honey. and you thought, there is no way you will ever get enough of him. how stupid will you be to ever let him go?

“we’re here,” the driver announced. your breathing got heavier, angry eyes darting to the rearview mirror. he didn’t give a fuck. he rolled the window all the way down and leaned his arm over it, looking outside.

jungkook sighed before stepping out of the cab, leaving the door open for you since other vehicles were passing by on your side. but you stayed still. until he unloaded his luggage from the trunk. until he was holding the door in one hand and the other outstretched in front of you.

his eyes were begging for you. pushing your stubbornness aside, you accepted the gesture. your peripheral vision caught the driver looking annoyed, but it was the least of your worries. the coldness of the night embraced you, the gentle wind making your hair sweep against the air. then the tires screeched as soon as you slammed the door closed.

jungkook was wearing a backpack on one shoulder, the hand not holding yours was on the handle of his large suitcase, a duffel bag also sitting on top of it.

“let’s go,” he said quietly, as if he was careful with every sound that would come out of his mouth. because every second mattered. it mattered to him. it mattered to you.

but when he started walking, you didn’t follow. your firm grasp on his hand held him back.

“why? what’s wrong?” his voice was dripping with concern, with a hint of fear. he wished he didn’t know what you were going to say, but he did.

“but i won’t,” you trailed off, a lump growing in your throat. you refused to meet his eyes. you could only imagine how pathetic of a sight you were. “i won’t go. i’m here to watch you go.”

“i know,” his bottom lip trembled as he watched you crumble before his eyes.

“i was thinking of our first kiss the whole ride here,” your tears started to roll down your cheeks, some drops forming dots a few shades darker than the cement beneath you. “and how much i know about you and how much i love you.”

“i love you with everything in me.” he abandoned the suitcase and approached your wretched figure, lifting your chin up to see your tear stained face. “i love you, you know that, right? and that i will always mean it?”

“i know you do. but this time we’re saying this to each other for the sake of memories because you will never come back to me and this town. and the day will come when you won’t love me as much and i won’t love you as much and the thought of it is kill—”

he swallowed your remaining words. that night, he was the one to cross the distance between you. he kissed you. and what usually tasted like honey got mixed with both your salty tears. his slender fingers ran through your hair, his gentle caress turning into a firm hold. his light tugs were only reminding you of all the nights you spent together naked in bed. it was bittersweet. filled with love and lust and longing. you don’t know how long you were standing there, outside of the airport, cherishing every millisecond the universe had to spare before the new chapters in your lives began. you didn’t care how many people were staring, or what they were thinking. no one else existed to you that night. only jungkook.

“what matters is that once upon a time, we loved each other with all the love we had to give, right?” he asked a few minutes before getting on the plane, the boarding pass bearing a heavy weight in his hand.

“you’re right. i’m happy that the world is yours to explore now, but you make it sound like we don’t anymore.”

“you know i still do.” he squeezed your hand.

“i do, too.” you smiled sadly at him, pulling up the fallen strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

those were the last words you ever said to each other.

he pulled his hoodie up once he turned around, but you heard him sniff before he started walking away. you watched his back until he disappeared from sight. he did look back at you once, but quickly turned around again as if he was electrocuted touching an exposed wire.

you rode a cab but hopped off halfway through. you chose to walk back home crying your heart out, your first and last kiss with jungkook replaying in your head over and over again like a broken disk in a broken drive. at some point, you got angry at yourself for being angry at him for leaving you alone in this godforsaken town.

you knew one thing — people change. change happens even to the best of us. the smallest of changes can happen overnight and you become a person different from before, no matter how trivial or significant those changes might be. they still make up the person that you are. the jungkook you know might be different the next day, and as time will pass you by, he will become a person you won’t recognize. that’s just how life is.

“life is so cruel and fucked up.” you mumbled to the darkness of the night, the crescent moon looming over your head.

—

note: i cried before even writing this what the hell . . . hi if you got to this point i hope you liked it :D have a nice day / night mwah !

[iamanartichoke]

So I'm looking for Thor spoilers, as you do, and I ended up on the Marvel spoilers subreddit, where I found and read a few Christian Bale interviews. And, well, I'll take Takes I Wasn't Expecting From Christian Bale For $500, Alex.

Cut; I don't think this is spoilery, but idk what people are considering spoilers at this point, so just to be on the safe side. (Also for length, this got long. And mostly pointless.)

Article Link.

"There's an awful lot that I wish was in this film, which you can't have a four-hour long film because there's so much gold that's on the cutting room floor, hilarious stuff, and creepy as hell stuff, but that was perhaps pushing it to a realm where maybe it wouldn't have been able to be family friendly, which we always wanted it to be. But Taika's sensibility, the comedy, the tragedy, the ability to have the Taika-ness and the humor of that. But he's got great sincerity as well. He's a real artist. And so, man, it's moving. That is the bloody surprising thing with this film. It's a very moving film and then two seconds later, you're laughing your ass off."

Incidentally, Christian has nothing but complimentary things to say about the rest of the cast as well, and specifically made mention of how welcoming Chris was (which might be in a different interview than the one I linked).

But, yeah. I'm not really sure why this perfectly lovely take surprises me, except to say that maybe seeing someone of Christian's status, I guess? expressing such admiration and respect for Taika is unexpected to me? By "status," I don't mean to undermine anyone else's accomplishments, as I obviously recognize the credibility of the actors who've worked with and praised Taika in the past -

- but, for me, I just consider Christian to be on his own level. The types of projects he tends to choose, how absolutely talented he is, how clearly intellectual he is - I may be biased due to having been a fan for literally most of my life (since the early 90s! Fuck I'm old), but I just have a lot of respect for him and have (somewhat subconsciously) elevated him to a bit higher on the totem pole of admiration. Even higher than Tom.

This was going to be a sidenote, but it turned into its own paragraph: I love Tom. I do. I got on a plane for Tom. I didn't get on a bus when I lived in Boston and Christian was filming American Hustle two towns over. My regard for both of them is clearly very different, and I'm not really sure how to explain it. I don't think that either is better than the other, in terms of talent/skill, but I do think that Christian is the more accomplished, experienced actor. Which makes his compliments for Taika hold more weight for me than Tom's?

Which sounds bad, but all I mean is that Tom was, obviously, very much a part of the Thor universe, he was entrenched in the role by the time Ragnarok came around, he had relationships with all the cast, and I think being in that position would hinder one's objectivity not just for the role but for the movie/universe in general. And, while I appreciate very much that Tom never has a bad thing to say about anyone - well, at the same time, Tom never has a bad thing to say about anyone, so whether he truly enjoyed working with Taika, especially in that context, or if he was just being diplomatic when promoting the film is anyone's guess.

Contrastingly, Christian is brand new to the MCU, to Taika, Chris and the cast (mostly), and to the Thor universe in general. Coming in as a blank slate like that, again, combined with Christian's body of work and tendency to be straightforward with his feelings (he's always very polite and complimentary, but he's not nice the way Tom is? Again, I don't know how to explain the difference, except to say I've never felt like he gives "fluff" answers; he doesn't heap on the praise if it's unwarranted, either (in my observations, anyway) - would naturally, I imagine, give him a much more objective point of view about the experience, making his feedback feel more legit, in a "here's my unbiased yet professional opinion (and I know what I'm talking about)" kind of way.

(I don't think I'm words-ing very well but) the thing is, I've always been lukewarm about Taika, at best. I've said this ad nauseum, but despite being critical of it, I liked Ragnarok. But I liked it as its own separate film. I didn't like it as part of the Thor franchise; I didn't like it as an overall story bc I didn't think it was well-written, and there were a lot of "problematic" implications within said story. Others have criticized it more thoroughly, but I have certainly done my fair share. And I think I mostly still have those opinions.

But I was way, way more upset about Infinity War than I could have ever been about Ragnarok, so that softens it a bit, too. And, look, this doesn't apply to anyone I am currently still mutuals with, but it does apply to a lot of former mutuals - regarding Ragnarok, at the height of wankness there was a lot of meta being passed around and analyzed and whatnot that made it easy to sort of spiral down into an echo chamber, encouraged by people who, again, include former mutuals who seem to feed on the negativity, despite claiming otherwise ("we wanted to like it, honest; endlessly criticizing hurts us more than it hurts you," etc). And the way that this dynamic played out - and is still playing out - after the Loki series came out was extremely eye-opening (and disappointing) to me bc suddenly, people whose Ragnarok takes elicited "yasss" from me were suddenly (I felt) posting takes that not only did I (sometimes wildly) disagree with, but that were fueled by an element of vitriol that fed right into the negativity (and made me very uncomfortable).

That's neither here nor there at the moment, just context I guess, but my point is that while I mostly maintain that Ragnarok is fine/enjoyable as a standalone film but has issues (at best) as part of the Thor franchise, said opinion left me feeling very "meh" about Taika as a filmmaker. I never hated him as much as some other people did (I hate(d) the Russos and Infinity War a lot more, fuck those assholes) but I didn't really respect him, either. And despite being interested in Thor 4 and excited for Christian Bale, I'm not really approaching it with any expectations of being blown away by the film itself; I'm mostly assuming it's mediocre.

Which - all of this was just a really rambly way of saying, well shit, if Christian Bale's probably-objective opinion is such a glowing review, maybe I should re-assess how I view Taika as a filmmaker? Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss this movie as "probably mediocre but it's Thor with Christian Bale so sign me the fuck up." Actually give it a fair chance. I mean, shit, I could still walk away from it saying, "Nah, my opinion hasn't changed, definitely mediocre," but at least it'd be a more genuine take, I suppose.

There is literally no point to this post, sorry. It's 1:30am and I'm having all kinds of feelings and I'm just Like This, okay?

Also, I just realized I didn't actually find any fucking spoilers.

[watevermelon]

Expectations | Shirabu Kenjirou x Reader

✧ Summary: Having attended Shiratorizawa Academy from junior high, you were familiar with most of the students in your year. They were average, nothing special — until a certain vbc setter, from god knows whatever small town junior high he crawled out of, changed up your world. -> Tag: maybe language cause it’s shirabu; fluff and jealousy + slight angst

---xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx---

Shirabu Kenjirō was a living, breathing pillar of salt. And it was rightly so. He was the friend, the shoulder to cry on, and the person that everyone viewed as reliable. This was not entirely a bad thing, since he was viewed as much more dependable than others. And this idea was not limited to volleyball. But being placed in that category separated him from the very people who put him there. The girls viewed him as, at most, a friend. He was the king and leader of the friend zone.

It was the end of his second-year and he would soon be taking over as captain of the boys’ volleyball team. He justified lack of love life on the fact that he had bigger things to focus on. And after their crushing defeat, Shirabu reasoned that Shiratorizawa needed a focused captain to lead them to victory.

But the road to triumph was… rather lonely.

Shirabu had his team with him one-hundred percent and silently appreciated them for their confidence and own unfailing determination (he won't admit out loud!) But it seemed like he was surrounded by couples. His kouhai, Goshiki Tsutomu, found comfort in another first-year that was a regular on the women's volleyball team. 

Couples were disgusting.

Of course, majority of the members of the male volleyball were single. Ushijima was a super volleyball idiot and his focus seemed to never stray from the sport. But even with his cinnamon roll personality, the female base of Shiratorizawa seemed to flock to him. He was undoubtedly very handsome and tall. His grades were well above average and his fan club was incredibly prominent. Ushijima had all the makings of a great man and was noticed as such by a large pool of the student body. The difference was that Ushijima was willingly single.

Shirabu, deep in the non-explored depths of his heart, wanted to be noticed like his Senpai. When playing volleyball, Shirabu strived to be the type of setter that went by unnoticed and drew out the strength of his ace. And he knew the consequences of such. But still. He was the main setter on a highly prominent team and his skills are not hard to notice.

Maybe it was his rough personality? Pft. He would never change that for a person, no matter how special.

Shirabu was above average height and had amazing grades in a prestigious powerhouse. What wasn’t there to like? His sense of style was trendy and he was complimented on his clothes more than once. He as not too preppy like Goshiki and not too wild like Tendou. Was it his looks? His bangs were unusual, but they weren't as bad as coconut-head/bowl/Goshiki. Since entering adolescence, he failed to ever break-out and was blessed with marvelous clear skin. On more than one occasion, he would stare at the mirror and truly wonder just why.

Why was no one interested?

Enter you.

You attended Shiratorizawa in both middle and high school. Coming from a wealthy family, there was nothing standing in your way. You were fairly popular and had seen the multiple personalities flit through your advanced classes. And in your first-year came Shirabu, an outsider to Shiratorizawa from a lower-class middle school. After being in the system for three-years, you knew almost everyone and seeing a new face was refreshing.

From the very start, you wanted to bet to know him more. But he was incredibly reclusive and mysterious to the general student body. Nobody could answer your questions. Well. Nobody except a certain Salami and volleyball idiot. You shared an advanced statistics class with the two third-year volleyball players in your first year and from them you were able to peer more and more into the life of Shirabu Kenjirō.

“Why do you want to know, (F/N)-chan?” Tendou instigated, “You have a crush on him?”

“Please, Salami calm down.” He raised his hands and gasped, “Come on. There isn’t a single person in this school who I don’t know and suddenly nobody knows anything about him?”

“He is smart and adaptable.” Ushijima chimed in.

“And a little shit, that’s for sure.” Tendou stated. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention back to the statistics teacher. Sure, you wanted to learn more. But this class was hella hard and you still needed good grades. Eventually, you were able to gradually acquire more information and Kenjirō. You learned that he was the only player from the boys’ volleyball team to not get into Shiratorizawa with a sports scholarship. Instead, he got in on his own accord through the arduous exams and good grades.

The more you discovered, the more you liked him.

Shirabu had a work ethic that you hadn't seen in a while. Being in this particular school-system for so long ruined your perception of it. You perceived most of your classmates to have a truly pretentious or judgmental personality, but showing to be as sweet as honey to your face. Of course they wanted to be your friend, who wouldn't with your last name?

He hadn't.

Shirabu was straight-forward with a tongue laced with salt. Sign you the fuck up!

He had no qualms about talking back to you and you looked forward to your daily banter with an odd smile. It was strange. You could get any nice, sweet boy in the whole school. But what was the point if they didn't mean it? Shirabu was honest - a trait that should never be given up, even if it offended others. You would rather have someone give you genuine advice - even if it was mostly mean - rather than an empty friendship.

You had majority of the same classes together for the second year in a row. And you were the only person who would had the immediate desire to sit next to Shirabu as a partner. You silently viewed him as a friend, but there was always this barrier that you could never get over for your friendship to deepen. His time was always dedicated to volleyball. And you did not play any sports anymore.

You watched the volleyball team's crushing defeat to Karasuno and the heartbreak it caused to so many people, Shirabu included. The women's team was resorted to tears and you could not even look at the men for too long. Reon and Semi were so sweet and you wished you could protect them for all the bad in the world. You had never seen Shirabu cry before.

Shirabu... He seemed to only display emotion around his team. And this made sense since those were the people that he was closest too. The rare occasion you had seen his smile was when you had watched a game. They had an overwhelming victory against Johzenji High and you spotted the small grin on Shirabu after he scored the winning point. Your heart could barely take it. You only wished that he showed that side more to you...

He was friendly, but distant enough for you to want more. Shirabu was not cold to you and his harsh chitchat did not hold any true malice behind his words. But he never opened up to you. You wanted to learn more about him personally and if you wanted to, you would have to pry and almost force him to speak. He would give curt answers and then be done with the conversation. But, on more than one occasion, you would spot him typing away on his phone. It was no secret that the boys’ and girls’ volleyball team were fairly close and had a groupchat shared amongst them. You silently wondered if he was texting a girl from the team.

That thought had you instantly deflated and made you wondering if you ever had a chance with Shirabu. You were not one to be easily defeated, but with every brief conversation and blank expression he gave you, you considered giving up altogether. This happened around Valentine’s Day of your first-year. Shirabu was abnormally delighted and even smiled in the classroom at someone’s joke. You figured that sure, it was the day of love and he probably had something lined up for himself and his significant other – that was why he was so happy. And it hurt your heart. He smiled, but it was never because of you.

From there forward, you tended to avoid him to evade the imminent heartache every time you saw him. This was hard since you literally sat next to each other in most classes, but something entirely doable. You would leave the classroom immediately after class, show up right before it started, and not initiate conversation. It was always you that had previously opened up discussion, so when you had stopped there was little to none at all.

Shirabu caught up to your change and silently questioned it. On multiple occasions, you would catch him observing you from the corner of your eye and you silently hoped he would not question you outloud. Within a week, he was ready to corner you.

You were at your locker right after class, ready to pack-up and head over to photography club. He was silently bounding towards you and when you closed the locker he was standing right-there before your eyes.

“Did I do something to offend you?” He asked the moment your locker closed.

“No…” You stated haphazardly, clutching your backpack.

“You’re never his quiet or shy.” He noted, “Did something else happen?”

“I have to get to photography club…” Shirabu put his arm on the locker and blocked your exit. He was tall and there was no way you could out-run him, you were trapped.

“Don’t lie. We know it starts in twenty-minutes. You might be on the executive board, but you have a lot of time.” He sighed out, locking to the ceiling and then back to you. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“… Am I your friend, Shirabu?”

“Of course.” He did not hesitate to answer. “And it’s Kenjirō.”

“What?”

“Call me by my first name.”

“Oh.” You paused and let the name roll of your tongue, “Then you should call me by my first name too, Kenjirō-kun.” His eyes widened at the added suffix and a rosy dust covered his cheeks.

“Was that it?” He asked, “Come on, (F/N). That’s an immature reason to ignore me.”

“How was I supposed to know?” You questioned, “It never seems like you actually want to talk to me.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

“Outside of this!” You were beyond frustrated, “Ugh I’m fine now go away.” You lightly pushed his arm, but he did not budge.

“As if that would convince me.”

“You are so annoying.” You commented, “You never initiated conversation. I thought I was just bothering you.”

His gaze on you softened and you could not break the eye-contact, “You’re an idiot.” He teased and then ruffled your hair. That was the first time he had ever done physical-contact with you and you almost exploded then and there.

“I’m an idiot?” You repeated before walking away mid-sentence, “I’m hoping you treat your girlfriend better.”

He paused and let us hand drop down to grab your elbow before you go away. “Girlfriend? Where did this come up?”

“I thought…” Shit, you let that thought slip out-loud, “The men and women volleyball teams are close. And I’ve only ever seen you hang-out outside of class with them and those girls. I just assume...”

“You assumed wrong.” He quickly cut-off, “Ugh. What am I going to do with you?” He asked as he grabbed you into a hug. You returned the affection and you knew that a blush must have stained your face! And what was that question?

Shirabu continued, “So was that the real problem? You were jealous of my supposed ‘girlfriend?’” He laughed at his question and you were going to die from his smile. God it was so rare and you wished he graced you with it more!

“No! Don’t get too ahead of yourself!” You yelled back, but it was muffled against his chest. He leaned back to see your face and teased you for your embarrassed expression.

“You’re an idiot.” He laughed again.

Since then, your friendship with Kenjirō was gradually improving. But it seemed that there was this silent barrier that you could not overcome. You could talk about your problems, but not about his. And since then, he had not initiated any physical contact. If you ever brushed hands or simply leaned against him, he should shift away and pretend it never happened! Did you really make any progress?

Finals were coming up and that was giving you one last chance to spend time with Shirabu before the end of the schoolyear. Sure, you could always ask your father and he had the power to put you two in the same class again next year - But! Did you want to waste your last year together pinning after him?

Your study group was comprised of yourself, Shirabu, Kawanishi, and two people from his class. Kawanishi was in Class 5, which was also advanced, but he was so damn lazy! You saw his potential and only wished that he tried harder and quit fucking around.

The three other members of the group were missing that night and the two of you were left alone to grovel over English. Your English was better than Shirabu’s but the opposite could be said about history. You paired each other well and aided the other's faults.

You commented on this once jokingly, saying, "You complete me!" He simply rolled his eyes and brushed it off before continuing to study.

Damn. This boy cannot take a hint.

You attempted to show the boy your advances. But it seemed Shirabu would shut you down at every try, almost like he knew what you were doing and was firmly against it. A part of you considered backing down. He had made his intentions clear for two straight-years, maybe you should not waste another year on someone who obviously does not want your attention?

That thought last for a second before you waved it off. There was no one else you were even remotely interested in. If he said no, that’s fine. But you were probably not going to peruse anyone else.

Both you and Shirabu were spacing out from over-reading the textbook and happened to make eye contact. "What's on your mind?" You asked.

"Things you cannot understand."

"You really think that low of me?"

"No. I'm going to be the captain of the volleyball team in a few weeks."

"Wow."

"There's no way your pampered ass would get it."

"You think about my ass?" You teased, but he pretended to ignore the question. You spent enough time with him to notice the minute narrowing of his eyes and the slight curve in the corner of his left lip.

Damn, this boy had you bad.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Kenjirō." You comforted, "You're very smart and reliable. I believe that your training won't betray you."

"Reliable..." He murmured. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"What do you mean?"

He scoffed at your question, "Exactly. You won't understand."

"Then explain it to me!" You exclaimed.

"Why should I?" He seemed just as inflamed.

"Because I care about you! You big, dumb, idiot!"

Shirabu paused before fully looking at you, surprise evident. "Well, everyone expects this idiot to be reliable and lead the team. But..."

"But...?"

"That's all that people expect from me. To be the smart one. To live to everyone's expectations and shoulder the border of living up to the name ''powerhouse.'" He was getting more agitated and louder with each word.

"Woah, calm down."

"I can't calm down! In a few weeks, I'll lose the ace that I've admired for years and majority of our regular team! How am I supposed to fill in their shoes when we're losing one of the top 3 spikers in the country?"

You had no shame in grabbing his chin and turning his full attention to you. "Listen here you idiot. Don't interrupt me! I said don't! I stopped sports, but I know this is something entirely inevitable. Your senpai's are moving onto the next phase of their lives, but it's not something you can stop or change. You have to accept the future and make the most out of it and I know you will. Shiratorizawa is not the only school with graduation. Your rivals and others will lose their precious third-years and its then will you be able to analyze them and attack. But you need to calm the fuck down."

Shirabu was hanging onto every word. Nodding at some parts and fully taking in what you were trying to convey. At the end of your speech, he pushed your hands away from his face with a slight rosy dust on his cheeks. No woman, outside of his mother, had ever done that to him before.

"You're a real pain, (F/N)." he started, "But thanks. I needed that."

"No problem, I just want you to know that I can be here for you." You extended your hand to cover his own on the desk.

His eyes latched onto your hand before he averted his gaze and attempted to pull his hand away. You kept a tight enough grip to keep it in place, but not enough to hurt. "Must you touch me so much?"

"You are such a tsundere, oh my god." You commented, "Of course, I had to like you."

He stilled and looked directly into your eyes, as if that would confirm your previous statement. "Are you really that surprised?" You asked. "You're really handsome and you have the type of personality that I find most attractive."

"Tsundere?" He joked.

"No. You're honest." You admitted, "You're not like the rest of them, who only see dollar signs when they see me. You've roasted my ass multiple times in class and I wouldn't have it any other way. You say the truth and don't sugar-coat your words for anyone."

"I like you." You simply stated. You watched the words seem to finally reach something in his mind and at this point he seemed to panic. He pulled his hand away and you did not hide your outward hurt. Shirabu made a lame excuse and quickly packed up his stuff to leave.

You never felt more sad and alone.

XXXXX

Shirabu was freaking the fuck out. He wanted someone to notice him and it had to be you??? You were beautiful and nearly perfect in every way. Your beauty went beyond the physical level and you were blessed with intelligence and an even greater family tree.

None of this mattered to him before. You were his friend and classmate and probably the one person in class who did not endlessly irritate him. How could you possibly have feelings for him? He didn't deserve you, not a bit. He had an endless list of faults, including his knowingly sarcastic personality, and you were the friendliest person in school! No way. You could be happier with literally anyone else.

He could not deny all your positive traits, even though he made an effort to ridicule you. You were an overall amazing person and he could not deny his latent crush on you. But he had squashed it since your friendship was mostly comprised of friendly banter. You could never have feelings for him, he previously thought. So he would rather treasure your friendship and watch you from the sideline.

However, Shirabu had to admit that it was a dick move of him just to leave you there after your confession. He was usually the type to speak his mind and your feelings must have blinded his brain. He set-out to clear the air and admit why.

In class the next day, you were nowhere to be found and refused to respond to calls and texts. Seeing you so affected, Shirabu could not help but feel like a huge ass. He owed you big-time, but he had to start somewhere: an apology. Shirabu had to clear the air and make it known that he appreciated your affections, even if he had to deny them. He was not above annoying you and did such continually.

Knocking on your dorm room, he showed up right at your front door.

Shirabu heard movement inside, but not closer to the door. He called your phone again and heard the ringtone go off from within, just for you to mute it. He knocked about eleven more times before you opened the door.

"What do you want?!" You asked as you swung the door open with full force.

"To clear the misunderstanding, (F/N)."

"God, you are so annoying. Did you know that?"

"You are too. Now hear me out, you crazy."

"Excuse me?!"

"Please." You sighed and moved aside for him to enter and he did such. He uncharacteristically took your hand and guided you to sit-down on your bed.

He paused, as if to fully think about his words, before sitting next to you. "You need someone who has time for you."

"What?"

"I'll be the captain soon and I do not want to disappoint anyone. I'll be busy and unable to be the proper boyfriend."

"Is that your only complaint to this relationship?"

"No."

"What else?"

"You deserve someone who can make you happy."

You gave a small laughed and asked, "Who says you don't already make me happy?"

He stared at your for a moment before asking, "What?"

"I don't want someone who you think will make me happier with kind words or bullshit. I want someone honest." You candidly admitted, "And we are friends already. I know you're dedicated to volleyball and I don't want that to change. I already know how you are and that’s why I like you more than anyone else. You alone can make me happy. For someone smart, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sputtered, unable to give a cohesive reply and for once you saw be great Shirabu struggle over his usually articulate words.

"Wait." You realized that he had multiple complaints about this relationship before you interrupted him. "Just be straight with me. Do you have feelings for me?"

It was at this moment that Shirabu had the clearest view of you. You were in the closest proximity than ever before, sharing a seat on your bed! He could gaze clearly into your eyes and sense the distress and vulnerability from your previous words. He stretched the silence and you took that as a rejection. He immediately rectified the situation by grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss at the top.

"I never thought you were interested in me." He admitted, "I thought I was deep in the friend zone. So I would have rather kept your friendship than risked ruining it."

"You're an idiot." You smiled grabbing his wrist to pull him closer. He obliged and allowed you to place a light kiss on his cheek.

"Now will you be my boyfriend or will I have to convince you?" You whispered in his ear to tease him and could literally see the shiver go down his back as he stiffened.

When you pulled away, his eyes were half-lidded and you silently wondered if his dominant attitude translated romantically.

You didn't have to wonder long since he returned the favor and went even further, nibbling your ear lightly before placing butterfly kisses around your neck. "Maybe you'll have to convince me."

You laughed before wrapping your arms around his neck, quickly taking command and enveloping his lips against your's. However, you did not have it for long and the setter was quick to flip the positions and hover over you. He gave one his rare smiles and you felt one breaking out across you'rs, stretching from ear to ear. Shirabu, who was in no rush, descended back down to your silky lips - noses bumping and hands fisting into each other's hair. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to hurt. You moaned, unintentionally, and he took that as an invitation to lick the entrance to your cavern. You parted your lips quickly, eager to feel his tongue against yours. The rest of the day went by ignored, the two of you enveloped in each other's affection with not a single care in the world.

[purplepenntapus]

Rating Versions of Harry Osborn: Updated

Wanted to redo this post with a more comprehensive and inclusive list of Harrys

616 Comics: 

Just such a good and complex character. The OG Harry. His relationship with Peter just adds so much depth to every Green Goblin arc because of the inherent conflict of Peter knowing he needs to take down Norman Osborn, but not wanting to hurt or lose his best friend. (If you’ve read Kindred no you haven’t.) He’s still... ugly... I’m sorry 616 Harry... I love you so much but they did you dirty... Some artists do their best with what they have but... I’m not a big fan of western comic style in general so that doesn’t help. Has three failed marriages by the time he’s 30 because he’s gay and deeply closeted.  8/10

Spider-Man the Animated Series (1994):

The Harry plotline in this show reeeeally doesn’t feel earned, because the first time we see Harry having an active role in the show, he asks Peter to move in with him because Norman wants him to have a responsible studious roommate  (a detail from the comics I was EXTREMELY excited to see play out), and Peter comments that they barely know each other. Ultimately they live together for all of one day before Peter decides to move back in with Aunt May. The next time we see Harry, MJ calls him Peter’s best friend, despite the fact that we haven’t seen Peter hanging out with—or even MENTIONING—Harry since the last episode when they were basically strangers. Really it feels like he’s just there to cause romantic drama as the guy MJ graciously settles for when she gives up on Peter. I found the whole goblin plotline kind of boring and lacking in depth.  3/10

Raimi Trilogy:

I was never interested in Raimi Harry until after I started liking and exploring other versions of Harry, because I just thought he was kinda a shit friend. He’s a pretty strong character overall, but his motivations aren’t as obvious. He’s torn between his love of Peter as his best friend, and his bitterness towards Peter for being the man his father wished he was. I don’t think Raimi Harry really wanted MJ, he just wanted to get back at Peter in a way by taking someone that HE loved. However I feel like his characterization kind of sways back and forth between sympathetic and not depending on how he’s written in the scene, and it disappoints me that the thing that gets him to stop tormenting Peter is the butler telling him out of nowhere that Norman died from his own blade, rather than any real character development on his part. 6/10

Spectacular Spider-Man:

I still haven’t watched all of this show because I... can’t STAND this version of Peter... but I’ve watched many clips with this boy and he’s just... so sweet... He only wants to be loved and keeps getting his heart broken. Deserves better. On everything. He deserves a better father, a better best friend, better love interests, everything. I do really enjoy the way they incorporated 616 Harry’s drug abuse into this show with the Globulin Green, it was a very clever way to incorporate that aspect of his character, but tone it down for younger viewers. I’ve watched the scene of him getting “unmasked” as the Green Goblin about a million times it’s very good. 8/10 

Ultimate Spider-Man:

I love him. Most people fear drifting apart from those close to us, so watching Harry struggle with the new and increasing distance between him and Peter as Peter seemingly makes new, “better” friends is downright heartbreaking. Especially when he overhears Sam implying that Peter only hangs out with him for his money which is something he’s clearly experienced a lot. (Seriously Sam what the fuck.) I also love his struggle with Venom throughout the series as a metaphor for his anger and bitterness, it’s never truly gone even when they work hard to remove it. It’s always there to bubble back up under extreme amounts of stress, especially when Norman is involved. (Also this isn’t a Norman review, but USM Norman is the only version of Norman Osborn that has rights and he works hard to be the father Harry deserves.) Had an honest to God meet-cute with Peter like come on???? Its unfortunate how much they cut back Harry’s role in the third and fourth season, I really would have loved to see more of him. Threw a party specifically so he could ignore Peter to his face because he was jealous and I respect that level of pettiness. 9/10

Spider-Man: The New Animated Series

I didn’t think it was possible to create an uglier Harry than 90s Harry but this blonde, fuck-boy lookin creepass came and proved me wrong. Who the FUCK is this?? Doesn’t have any recognizable characteristics of Harry Osborn besides being rich and hating Spider-Man. Also just... look at him. I wouldn’t trust this man anywhere NEAR my drink at a party. #NotMySon -3/10

The Amazing Spider-Man:

He’s okay. I think he has some very emotional scenes and good chemistry with Peter, but it’s dampened by the fact that he wasn’t present in the first film and had to share the second with like two other main plot lines. Ultimately ends up being the least sympathetic version of Harry Osborn because he became the original Green Goblin and killed Gwen, rather than following in his father’s footsteps. That’s not to say he’s a completely unsympathetic character. He has a strong motivator in his fear of death, and I do think the choice they made for his character were interesting and could have developed really well, but they didn’t get the chance since the franchise was dropped. 5/10

PS4 Spider-Man:

ABSOLUTELY ADORE HIM. WISH WE GOT MORE OF HIM. HAVING YOUR EXPECTATIONS OF HARRY OSBORN BROKEN AS YOU SNEAK AROUND NORMAN’S PENTHOUSE AND LEARN THAT HE’S BEEN SECRETLY STRUGGLING WITH A GENETIC DISEASE HE’S BEEN HIDING FROM HIS BEST FRIENDS FOR YEARS WAS -chef’s kiss- GENIUS. PLEASE GIVE US A SECOND GAME WITH VENOM HARRY. 10/10

Marvel’s Spider-Man (2017):

Still easily my favorite version of Harry Osborn. When I first began watching the show I was startled by their decision to make Harry a science genius like Peter because it was so different from their usual dynamic, and many people who aren’t fans of the show point to this as something they dislike. But I actually ended up really loving the decision. It gives a different flavor to Harry in how he reacts to the events of the show and how we interpret his character traits, while still being very inherently Harry Osborn. Harry is jealous of Peter, he loves him dearly, but there’s always this ember of bitter envy ready to burst into anger whenever the plot creates friction between them. This is one of the defining traits of their relationship and in most versions it’s not hard to understand why. Peter has what Harry wants. He’s intelligent, he has potential, and most importantly he’s loved. Peter is the son Harry knows Norman wishes he had, and that creates a wedge between them. Marvel’s Spider-Man changes this dynamic. Harry can easily stand toe-to-toe with Peter in terms of intelligence, and in fact they often work together to create things or solutions Peter couldn’t have come up with on his own. That initial wedge between them isn’t there, creating a very endearing and loving friendship that we know is doomed to sour because it isn’t enough. MSM Harry could be the person Norman wants him to be, and that places the full weight of his father’s impossibly high expectations on his shoulders, always within reach but never quite achievable. So it makes a lot more sense why Peter initially has a low guard towards Norman (as opposed to some other series where Peter seems oddly dismissive of Harry’s justified complaints) and Harry’s own steadfast loyalty to his father. On the surface Norman seems like a perfectly loving parent, he encourages his son, he created an entire school for him when he was wrongfully accused of sabotage, it’s only when you start to dig deeper into their relationship that you see the subtle manipulations and the issues Harry has from constantly chasing his father’s approval. This creates a Harry who is desperate for validation and extremely sensitive to rejection, which colors his relationship with Peter throughout the show. I’m still mad he got nerfed in the second and third seasons because Disney is homophobic. TLDR: I may be biased ... Infinity/10

MCU:

Where is he? Who knows? Man missing in action.  ?????/10

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 2 - fantasy au w/ inspo from this wonderful prompt list by @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

You're Not Getting Cold Fins Now, Are Ya?

word count: 6.3k

(click on art for better quality)

Mickey truly enjoyed being a fisherman. He liked the solitude that came with the job -- no one on his ass trying to tell him what to do or that what he's doing was wrong when it definitely wasn't. He was always a resourceful little bastard, and his confidence at sea was not unwarranted. He knew how to do shit, and how to do shit right -- crewmates be damned. Nothing but him and the water, just the way he liked it.

He often sold his fish at the market in the small coastal town where he and his sister, Mandy, reside. Her charisma luring customers to their stand, promising the best of the best -- and it wasn't even a lie anymore. Lately, Mickey's produce was the freshest and somehow the most beautiful, catching somewhat exotic fish with vibrant colors that none of the other fishermen were able to attract. Mandy had once trapped him in the corner, demanding answers to questions like how on earth he alone could come up with all this? She thought he was secretly a pirate, raiding other ships, stealing their best, and dumping the rest -- you can't fucking afford to go to jail again, dumbass! Time after time, he reassured her that it was just dumb fucking luck until she caved and let him go, not withholding a dubious glare. Despite what he told her, and even told himself, he was a bit suspicious. He was not a lucky man.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

Mickey sat himself in the sand, reveling in the feeling of being on land again. As often as he flipped between land and sea, the difference never failed to startle him. He dragged his hands through the sand, feeling like some fancy exfoliator Mandy was always trying to get him to use. He was adamantly watching the colorful rocks bead through his fingertips. A larger stone caught in his palm. He held it up to the sun where it was peeking out from behind the clouds. At first glance, it looked like any other stone -- kind of a boring sea foam color, but in the sun, it sparkled like green embers. He rested the stone atop his knee and turned his attention to a bird squawking from the rocks. Noisy fucker. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering what could have happened for the bird to cause such a fuss. Stuck in his tangle of thoughts and oblivious to the world, a wave swept over him -- even above his overalls.

Mickey leapt up in surprise, "Motherfuck-!" In all his joust movements, he managed his lose the stone... and his dignity. He didn't have a spare change of clothes on his boat because it was supposed to be a short trip. He didn't plan on falling asleep and ending up on an island god-knows-where. So there he sat, pouting, in just his boxers and hat while he let the remainder of his clothes air dry with what little sun there was. He could've sworn he heard someone laughing at him -- giggling, even. He glared towards the squawking bird before determining it was his own paranoia. Mandy had him do all that therapy shit awhile back, so he knows how he can get sometimes and how it's a 'trauma response' or some bullshit that actually made a hell of a lot of sense now that he thought about it.

He pulled out an orange from the front pocket of his overalls, still half damp in the sand. He nibbled on it, tossing his peels as far into the tide as he could, watching it float... float... disappear. Whatever creature was down there must really fuckin' like oranges. It was quick, but exciting none-the-less. Mickey no longer felt sluggish like his impromptu nap that landed him on this island might have suggested. He felt alive.

The sun placement told him that it was time to head back if he had any chance of making it back to the coast before sundown. Fuck! His fish! He picked up his clothes and half-jogged half-stumbled back to his boat, expecting the fish he had caught earlier in the day to have gotten tainted by now. He shoved his legs into his mostly-dry overalls and waded out to his boat. To his surprise, the fish looked good -- almost better than when he caught them.

Now Mickey may not be the most observant, but even he knew something was a little suspicious (something a little fishy is going on here🤔). If he didn't know then, he definitely knew when he turned to see the green ember stone -- his stone -- resting on top of his ice box. The fuck? He picked up the stone, smoothing over it's edges with his thumb, leaving a sparkling trail where his fingers had just touched. So it wasn't just from the sunlight, interesting. He secured the rock inside the zipper pocket on his overalls, then double checking to make sure it was still there. Whatever force on his side might be into second chances, but he didn't want to test his new luck with third chances.

He really had to get going now. He gave the island a once over as he pulled out his map, subtly marking his new uncharted oasis. This was something else.

--

Since his initial discovery, Mickey had come back to the island several times, and all the more prepared. He kept spare clothes on him at all times now, in case the tide one again decided to have a personal vendetta against him and his overalls -- which of course it had. He also brought more beef jerky, tools, and a tent. He was determined to see more than just the coast the next time he returned.

He had told Mandy that he was going to stop at another port for the night so as not to wait up for him that evening, which wasn't unheard of. With the amount of overnight stays on his isolated island as of lately, however, Mandy thought he had a secret lover a few ports over, teasing and making kissy faces at him whenever she could. "Who is she, Mick? Oh, c'mon, I tell you about my hookups!" "Yeah, and I wish you fuckin' didn't." "Whatever, anyways, she's gotta have a name. Wait! Oh my god! He? Is it a guy? Mickey!" "Mandy, no." She could be annoying as hell when she wanted to, but she mostly knew when to stop.

As much as Mickey denied a secret lover, there was definitely a secret something, but he couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was. He knew there was like the red-ish, orange-ish glow that flickered beneath the surface of the water. And he knew there was feelings. Which sounded weird as hell -- even to himself. He should have just played along with Mandy's hookup in another port theory. Hell, he should find a hookup in another port. That would be a lot simpler than whatever this was. But he just couldn't get himself to stay away from this mystical island. His fish business was doing better than ever, so he had no real excuse to stay away.

He had managed to map out the geography and topography of the island after a few visits -- Mickey knew his shit. No one lived on this island. It looked like no one has ever lived on this island. It was a small, and it was beautiful, but he still couldn't find the source of whatever force drew him here -- at least when he was actively searching for it. He continued throwing his orange peels in the ocean to be devoured by his... friend? He tried to throw his apple cores in, but his creature was apparently not a fan. He didn't blame them, to be honest.

He began to talk to himself and even sing to himself more and more on the island. He thought he may have heard the laughter again, and even some off-key humming or whistles along to his tunes. Mickey didn't even care if it was the paranoia or if he was having some odd hallucination at this point. He just felt entirely too good.

--

Which is why he didn't see it coming. If he hadn't been so distracted by this siren-like callings, he would have noticed the storm coming. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich, damnit. He knew his shit! Which is why he knew that he could secure the boat as best as humanly possible, and it still wouldn't survive the storm surge unscathed. He hoped that whatever force looking out for him would look out for his boat. He said a quick prayer -- and he wasn't religious by any means -- as he double checked to make sure he had his 'lucky' stone, his backpack, and his map, then hiked inland where he knew there was a cave for shelter.

He had escaped the start of the downpour, but only barely. The dark clouds loomed overhead, chasing out any hopes of a light, easy rain. Mickey huddled against the inner wall of the cave, nibbling at one of his jerky strips, and cursing the lack of cell phone signal on this fucking island that doesn't even fucking exist according to any map he's ever fucking seen. To say he was having a bad day was an understatement. He couldn't do much but wait, and he quickly fell asleep to the pitter patter of the water dripping outside the cave.

He awoke to a sharp burning on his chest. The fuck?! His so-called 'lucky' stone was hot. And glowing. And so was most of the other rocks in the cave. Now this was definitely something. The stones obviously did not want him to stay still as they grew hotter and glowed brighter, but this time alternating and lighting up a path down a miniscule stream he hadn't noticed before. The storm had long stopped, and he hoped these bewitched stones would at least lead him to the shore so he can check on whatever remains of his boat.

Mickey followed the path to the shore, luckily, but more towards the rocks that he noticed on his first visit. He hardly saw the rocks now as he was drawn to a heap of familiar orange-ish red-ish laid up on shore. He fully expected it to disappear again so he refused to even blink, inching closer. It was alive -- for sure -- that was good, but it was battered from the storm. It looked scaley... but also had hair? It grunted and rolled over. Yup. That was a man. But also a fish.

Mickey thought his hallucination were playing entirely too many games on him now but he physically could not bring himself to turn away, as much as he swore he wanted to. He wanted out. He was insane. That was the only explanation, because obviously mermaids weren't real. He was sleeping, he had to be. He would wake up in his bed next door to Mandy's and all of this would go away. Hell, maybe the whole island was in his dreams. Maybe he was trapped in a very realistic coma. He looked around for something to wake him the fuck up when he heard the creature groan again.

Fuuuuuck, now Mickey was involved. The tide had pulled back far enough that left the creature stranded on the land. The stone grew hotter yet against his chest. "Alright, alright, I fuckin' got it, thank you," he grumbled. The creature turned it's startled head towards his. They locked eyes -- green embers. Of course.

"It's you, isn't it? All this time?" Mickey asked as the creature weakly tried to hide his face. Mickey didn't know why. It was a beautiful face, somehow covered in freckles that sparkled.

"Nah, man, it's cool, right? We've been having fun, eating oranges and shit?"

The creature unburied its head and quietly whistled one of Mickey's favorite songs, earning a chuckle out of Mickey as he awkwardly lifted the half-man half-fish in some semblance of a firefighter carry. Mickey expected the creature to be slick and cold, but he was soft and warm. Odd, but not unpleasant. They were almost to the water now.

"Yeah, Rain on Me by Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga. Fuckin' banger. Don't tell my fuckin' sister about this. She'd never let me live this down."

The red-headed creature tilted its head in confusion.

"Lady Gaga? Ya know, Mother Monster?"

He seemed to startle at the word 'monster' as he wiggled, escaping Mickey's grip into the water, disappearing into the dark sea. Frowning, in a last attempt at communication.

Mickey wasn't having it. Nah. The creature had been luring him for weeks. Hanging out with him for weeks. Even called out to him with some fuckin' moon stone type things. And now it wanted to disappear? He didn't fucking get it. He kept talking to himself as he paced along the shore.

"You're not getting cold fins now, are you?" Mickey teased, "Wait, fuck, is that offensive? Fuck, I'm sorry, please just come back."

He was acting fucking pathetic. He buried his face in his hands. Fuck. His brain was fucked. His life was fucked. His boat was fucked. His boat.

Mickey nearly tripped as he stumbled back to his boat. Or more like where he docked his boat. All that remained was his anchor. The rest had been mangled and scattered along the shore. He could probably get it fixed eventually since he had the little foresight to keep his tools safe in his backpack. But until then, he was stuck on an island, that apparently didn't exist, with a companion, who apparently didn't want to be perceived, and a dwindling supply of beef jerky. Great.

--

It had been a depressing night. Without Mandy's overenthusiastic presence or his new friend's feel-good aura, Mickey was especially pessimistic. He hardly got any sleep, his brain racking all the ways he could possibly fix his boat. Mickey Milkovich knew his shit, but he was beginning to feel a little doomed. He took out his 'unlucky' stone from it's secure pocket, fidgeting with it like he does when he's nervous. The thing was cold (one could say it was stone cold😎).

Feeling hopeless, he stormed back to the shore, tossing his last orange into the water, intent on yelling at the water until he died a peaceful death.

"C'mon, man," his voice came out sounding more like pleading than yelling, but what can you do? "I don't give a fuck if you're a man or a fish. I need you to help me fix my fucking boat! You got me into this mess, you get me out of it!"

He collapsed in the moonlight. He was absolutely not on the verge of crying. He was focusing on his breathing so intently that he barely heard his voice.

Holy fuck, though. He finally got why the legends always referred to mermaids as sirens. He would follow this voice anywhere. It was as disturbing as it was comforting.

Mickey was knocked out of his trance as his previously-tossed orange rolled to a stop at his feet.

"I said, I'm sorry." The siren's red hair poked out of the ocean several feet in front of him. Mickey continued to stare. How the fuck did this motherfucker's freckles glow brighter than the stars in the sky above them?

"I never meant to cause you harm. Swear. I even brought you the best fish I could find. My family lectured me about cannibalism or some shit, but I just wanted any excuse to see you again."

Mickey stared in awe. The creature's voice ringing through his ears prettier than any choir he had ever heard. He had got to get himself together. He was supposed to be mad. Right!

"What about my fuckin' boat? You realize I actually have to leave this place eventually, right, Red?" Maybe Mickey was being a bit harsh considering he was basically in the middle of some magical doomsday. But he was still ridiculously frustrated at his current situation.

"Hmm," the creature considered, "my name is Ian." Ian. Ian. Ian. The name chimed through his head. "And I was thinking about your boat. I tried to save it before it was too late, but I ended up too close to the shore, and the tide was ridiculous, and hence I got stranded and we got off to the wrong... fin." Ian gave Mickey a dumbass smirk, clearly proud of himself.

Okay, it did ease the tension, Mickey would give him that. Mickey was silent for a bit too long again.

"And what is your name?" Ian mused, "I've got to stop calling you That-One-Hot-Fisherman in my head."

Mickey nearly choked, and tried to cover it up by rubbing his hand against his lips, "Mikhailo." He had no idea why he was compelled to share his real name. He hadn't used that name in years -- only liking it from the sound of his mother's mouth. He corrected himself, "Well, it's Mickey. That's what I go by."

"Okay, well, Mickey Mikhailo, shall we get started on rebuilding your boat now or do you want to wait until morning?" Ian looked both devious and sincere. It was maddeningly confusing.

If Mickey swooned at the way a fucking fish said his name, that was nobody's business. But he couldn't deny he was exhausted. His stone was warm against his chest, comfortingly so, not hot like before. He managed to mumbled out a "in the morning" before falling into the peaceful sleep he had been so desperately craving.

--

Mickey awoke to sunshine in his face and a bird pecking at his thigh -- the pocket where his final jerky stick remained.

"Fuck off you fucking fuck!" He shooed haphazardly while rubbing fucking literal sand out of his eyes. God, what a nightmare.

"I see someone's not a morning person," teased an orange blob from the water. Mickey rubbed his eyes again. Right. Ian.

"Fuck off, fish genius over there."

"That's not any way to treat your only chance of getting off the island anytime soon," Ian pouted.

Fish genius had a point.

"Sorry," Mickey grumbled. He was never one for apologies, but man did he need to stay on this creature's good side. But, he was all good sides as far as Mickey was concerned. In the daylight, he could see how Ian's orange hair curled into little rings when it air dried. It looked real fuckin' soft. He couldn't remember if he had the chance to touch it yesterday on their fucking rescue mission. He needed to distract himself before he said something he regretted. He was not about to be flirting with a fish. He wasn't!

"Ya got any more oranges you can toss my way? Fuckin' starving."

Ian pointed at the one sandy orange a few feet from where Mickey had slept, "Just yours that you tried to hit me with, thank you very much."

"You like the peels, though." Mickey said as he tossed a piece into the ocean, floating several yards away from where Ian's head bobbed out of the water.

That took Ian aback, "Damn, I thought I was slicker than that."

"Not that slick, man."

"Hmm." Ian briefly considered before speeding over to the peel and devouring it quickly, "I can get you some sea food -- as your people say."

"Ain't that basically illegal for you, Red? Ain't you technically sea food?" Mickey musing, tossing another piece of his orange peel into the water.

Ian rolled his eyes. "I-an." He sounded it out slowly. "But I mean, circle of life and all that." He chased the orange peel, twisting it in his fingertips, awaiting Mickey's response.

"Nah, it's cool, don't worry about it, I-an. I don't really want any part in your whole fucked up moral dilemma situation. Got enough of those myself."

Mickey avoided Ian's attempt at eye contact, and Ian didn't push the conversation any further. He seemed tentative again. Mickey didn't want to lose him again.

"So... boat stuff?" Mickey huffed as he stood up, turning to his mangled beauty.

"Yeah," Ian did that dumbass smirk again that had Mickey fucking blushing, "Boat stuff."

--

Ian explained that he had spent most of the night gathering the parts that he could find in the water, and even some special mud and sea weed looking things that he promised would hold it together if Mickey's tools couldn't. Mickey took offense to the lack of faith Ian had in his skills, but he eventually agreed that it was at least somewhat warranted given their current predicament.

Mickey spent the morning gathering boat parts from land, and by midday, he felt hopeful. It was a 'finding treasure in the trash' kind of moment, but it was enough for now.

Ian and Mickey had fell into idle conversations as Mickey worked to restore his boat and Ian gazed onward, bobbing in the waves.

"So, you have a sister named Mandy?" Ian asked after a slice of silent had washed over them.

"What, are you a psychic, too?" Mickey laughed nervously under his breath.

Ian rolled his eyes like that was the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "No, smartass, I'm a good listener." He paused. "You talk about her a lot."

"Wasn't sure if you were real or if I was crazy." Was all Mickey managed to respond. Ian was really more of the conversation carrier and neither of them seemed to mind.

"Do you have any other family or friends?" Ian wondered, this time genuinely curious.

"Considering I'm talking to you right now, what do you think?"

Ian silently stared at Mickey until his watch became uncomfortable and Mickey felt the urge to continue.

"Mandy's the only one that sticks around. She actually cares about me -- fixes me dinner, drags me out to meet her friends, even makes sure I get enough sleep -- she's fuckin' crazy."

"It sounds like she loves you."

"Yeah. Dunno why."

"You're a good person, Mickey."

Mickey flashed Ian his knuckles reading 'FUCK U-UP' in faded black ink. "Yeah, I'm a real stand-up guy."

"No, I mean it." And Ian just looked so genuine that all Mickey could do was believe it for once in his goddamn life. All it took was for a fish to tell him. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

"What's your social circle look like? Couple of dolphins, maybe a crab?"

"Maybe," Ian confessed. Shit, maybe this was some real life Little Mermaid. "But I also have five siblings."

"Y'all all got bright-ass fins? Or is that just you?" Mickey still couldn't believe this was his reality right now, but shit, might as well hear about all of Ariel's siblings.

"My little sister, Debbie, she's orange like me. My mom had a theory that our colors are reflective of like our auras or something. She was always hanging around this old-as-balls sea turtle spouting off whatever nonsense he remembered. Some of it makes sense, though. My oldest sister, Fiona, is purple. Then there's my brothers -- Lip is blue, Carl is green, and Liam is yellow."

"Mandy has black hair like me. But she has a nose piercing, and I ain't getting one of those anytime soon."

Ian smiled that Mickey was even trying to draw some sort of semblance between their drastically different worlds. But it felt so natural, Mickey couldn't help it.

Mickey felt his lucky stone grow warm, again. Ian wasn't in any trouble, though. He was literally right fuckin' here. And he was happy. Mickey was happy, too.

--

By nightfall, they had called it quits. Mickey had ended up using some of Ian's 'special' tools, earning a fair amount of teasing from Ian himself. Whatever. The red-head had been protecting him so far. He trusted him -- even if that thought was terrifying. The mud would dry in the moonlight, and Ian assured Mickey that he would be set by morning.

Mickey was fucking hungry after a long day's work. It was high tide and Ian had something different in mind.

"Now that we're talking," Ian started. "I've been wanting to show you this."

Mickey waited for further instructions.

"Follow the stones, I'll meet you there, promise."

Mickey trusted the fucker despite his innate inability to trust anyone else, so he followed the stones into the thick of the forest. He knew the island. He had mapped the thing. He didn't know what Ian could possibly want to show him that he hadn't already seen.

The path stopped glowing near the bottom of a cliff. He knew about the cliff. But what he didn't know was that the cliff was a waterfall.

"Woah."

"Pretty cool, huh? Only happens with lots of rain."

Ian had prepared them a fish dinner set on another rocky edge, like the one on the other side of the island.

"Ian. You're a fish. This ain't right."

"First of all, I'm a mammal. Second, it's fine. They tell me when they're ready to die so I have a clear conscious as far as I'm concerned."

"Dude. I knew this was fucked up, but that is fucked up."

"Dude," Ian mocked him, "We're in the middle of the fucking ocean. Do you have any better ideas, or are you just gonna be all pissy? Least you can do is eat with me."

Mickey's jerky supply was officially gone. Fish genius had another point.

Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Ian's dinner was even better than Mandy's were.

--

Morning came and Mickey found himself not wanting to leave. Of course, he knew he had to, so he would.

"So, Red, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Only for now. You'll be back." Ian winked. Mickey knew he would.

"This is stupid, but like, you can't go back with me? Like, we make a pretty good team."

Mickey was visibly uncomfortable at his moment of vulnerability, and Ian took pity on him with a gentle smile. "Unless I want to get hunted, I'm better off here. It's safer."

"Right, right." That made sense. Mickey didn't even want to think about the possibility of Ian getting hurt. There had been rumors about mermaids in the area, but he had always assumed them to be tall tales. He knew enough of the fishermen were heavy drinkers and supposed that played a factor in their truth-telling.

"My mother is on land now, but she wouldn't choose to help me. Learned that the hard way."

Mickey frowned. He knew what it was like to have a parent that would trade you for literally anything else. But he was more curious about another part of Ian's story.

"What do you mean your mom is on land? Like she was captured or something?"

"No, nothing like that. More like she's got two legs that she uses to chase whatever thrilling experience she can. Another one of her wacky theories was that her 'true love's kiss' gave her the ability to shapeshift between her land and water forms whenever she wanted."

"Huh."

"All my siblings think she's crazy. The idea was tempting enough for awhile, though. Fiona had gotten real close to this sailor named Steve. He promised her the world and she believed him. But their bond wasn't enough to shift. Fiona was sure he was her soulmate. He still comes around sometimes. And then there's Debbie, who almost got killed trying to woo some girl at the port. I think my mother is just a hopeless romantic. But hope can be dangerous sometimes."

Mickey listened on to this story that sounded more like a children's bedtime story -- all this princess nonsense about a true love's kiss made him think that maybe this red-head was Ariel. He suppressed a laugh when he saw the worried look in Ian's eyes.

"Well whatever it is, she sounds pretty lucky."

Ian smiled softly, sadly. "Yeah."

"Hey," Mickey said gently. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

And with that, Mickey sailed his patchwork boat back to whatever wrath Mandy was about to unleash on him.

--

The door creaked as Mickey made his way into the apartment he shares with his sister. He was nearly tackled on sight.

"Mickey, what the fuck!" Mandy punched his shoulder before crushing him into another hug. "I was so worried about you, you little shit!" "Ow! Jesus, I'm alive. Would you calm your tits?!"

Mandy gave him one more punch for good measure, "Where the fuck have you been? Three days, Mikhailo Aleksandr, three days! Tell me you didn't get that bitch up at the other port pregnant. I'm not taking in anymore rug rats."

"Bad storm. Boat wreck. And ya know what," Mickey threw his hands into the air, "I wish I would have got someone pregnant. Instead, I was stranded at sea, so maybe be a little bit nicer to me?"

"Fuck." She slumped a bit, "How did you manage to get back? Did you call one of your pirate buddies?"

"Jesus Christ, Mandy. I'm not a pirate -- even though they are dope as fuck, by the way. I just so happen to have a few brain cells -- something you don't know anything about."

Mandy rolled her eyes, "Competent enough to sail straight into a storm, huh?

Mickey flipped her off, "Good to be home, sis."

Mandy smiled, "C'mon, I'll make you some real food. I'm sick just thinking about you surviving off fuckin' jerky for half a week."

-- Mickey picked up a couple shifts at Mandy's bar the next week and a half to make up for three days of lost produce and another week for the time it took to properly fix his boat. He trusted Ian's magic mud well enough, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He wore short sleeve button-ups when he was bartending. He didn't have the comfortable luxury of built in inner pockets like with his fishing overalls, so he sewed his own. He couldn't stand the idea of not having his lucky stone close to his heart.

One night while he was slinging drinks, he mind at sea, he felt the stone grow hot and hotter. Fuck! It nearly burned his skin. He took it out from its pocket tossing it back and forth between his hands. It was glowing again. He felt nauseous. This had to mean Ian was in danger, right? Like last time in the cave? He wasn't on the island. He didn't have some magic pathway leading him exactly where he needed to go. What if he didn't get there in time?

He must have looked as insane as he felt because he felt a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Mick, take a fifteen."

"Got it." Mickey headed out back. Mandy would assume he was just having a smoke. But he ran. He hoped to hell that he was on the right track. The stone glowed brighter so he took that as a good sign.

He was out of breath as he rounded the corner and ended up at the docks. The stone's glow died down and it grew cold. Something was very wrong. What the fuck?

"Ian!" He probably looked like a psychopath screaming at the sea. Maybe he wasn't far from it.

This was the dock his boat was usually parked at. He was on his way to his old spot. Maybe--

A flash of red caught his eye in the dark water. No fish that red was ever this close to shore. His stomach crumbled. Oh my God, Ian.

Mickey dropped to ground, trying to get a better look at what was wrong. Wrapped in fishing nets was Ian, his skin a sickly shade of blue that wasn't from the moonlight.

Mickey made quick work of the fishing net with his pocket knife, careful not to cut Ian's slightly cold body. Was he too late? He couldn't be too late. He was here now. Everything would be fine.

Tapping into the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mickey heaved Ian's large body onto the dock planks. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing at least.

"Ian. Ian, look at me. You're safe now, okay?" Mickey turned around, making sure he was alone. Luckily, no one was out at the water this time of night. Mickey pulled Ian's head into his lap and brushed his fingers through Ian's hair. Fuckin' finally. It was soft. So soft. "Hey, Red, wanna hook me up with whatever conditioner you got under the sea?" He laughed at himself to keep from crying.

Ian murmured something, lips barely parting.

Mickey stopped his caresses, "What was that, Mumbles?"

"Said you're a dumbass." Ian repeated. It was quiet, but his sass rang through. He was alive alright.

"I know." Mickey smiled for real this time. He placed a gentle kiss on Ian's forehead near his hairline. Ian's eyes fluttered open as they held each others' gaze.

They were distracted when Mickey's stone glowed bright again. Probably brighter than it has ever been before. The color shifted from it's usual green ember to resemble more of an icy blue. The boys watched as it began to shake on the ground -- where Mickey had dropped it when he spotted Ian's body. The stone continued to vibrate violently until it burst. Green and blue specks of light joining the stars in the sky above them. Mickey was so entranced by the light that he didn't notice when something else began to shift.

Ian's shimmering red-orange tail was replaced by two, long, freckled legs. Ian's eyes grew wide as he hit Mickey's arm.

"The fuck you hitting me for -- holy shit."

"Maybe my mom wasn't crazy."

"Maybe not." Mickey traced Ian's new legs with his fingertips. "How do you feel? Pretty big change, champ."

"It feels right... which is weird." Ian concluded after a moment, wiggling his toes.

"You're weird, so it makes sense." Mickey nodded, like it was obvious.

Ian rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Mickey cocked his head as his lips upturned into a smirk, "Make me."

Mickey had expected Ian to still be chilled from the water, but he wasn't. He was warm and soft. So there they stayed, tightly wrapped in each others' arms under the dancing green-blue stars and the sound of gentle waves knocking into boats.

--

It was safe to say that Mickey had entirely forgot about returning to his shift at the bar that night. They had decided to sneak Ian into Mickey's room before the fishermen got their early start on the day ay the docks. It was still dark when they slowly opened his apartment's front door, knocking into each other and trying not to laugh at their bizarre situation.

Mandy flicked on the larger kitchen light, ready to give her brother an ear-full for leaving her alone to serve the bar creeps all night when she noticed he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a tall, gorgeous, red-headed man, who appeared to only have eyes for her brother, not even noticing her presence.

"I thought you said you didn't have any bitches?" Mandy said, hoping to burst them out of their little bubble.

Mickey mumbled a quiet fuck under his breath. And surprisingly, Ian was the first to speak up, "Uh, you must be Mandy? I'm Ian. I'm uh- just visiting town."

"Mhm, whatever you say. Mick, next time, at least tell me when you're ditching work for a booty call, yeah?" She said after an appreciative glance Ian's way, bumping Mickey's hip as she walked past them to her room down the hall.

"Oh, work. Yeah, my bad." Mickey had genuinely forgot. Something about soulmates kind of clouding his judgement.

"Pasta's on the stove -- goodnight, dumbass and company!" She called before slamming her door closed.

Ian erupted into a fistful of giggles, "So much for sneaking in, huh?"

"Whatever, do you want some pasta, or are you sticking straight to cannibalism and orange peels?" Mickey teased.

"I'll have whatever you're having, stud." Ian squeezed the back of Mickey's neck.

--

After their late night/ early morning pasta, they had curled up in Mickey's bed, facing each other in silence, their eyes saying all the words that they didn't need to say out loud. Until-

"Fuck!" Ian's abrupt comment startled Mickey, even causing a hitch in Mandy's snoring in the next room over. Softer, he continued, "Your lucky stone, Mick. It's gone." He looked sad. He wanted to fix it.

Mickey brought his hand up to Ian's cheek, brushing it softly. "I don't need it, man. I have you."

Ian covered Mickey's hand with his own, then brought their hands to his lips, kissing each of Mickey's tattooed knuckles gently, like they held the secrets of the universe. Mickey smiled.

"I am the luckiest man in the world." And he was.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made.  I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years.  We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends.  It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media.  I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs!  When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’  We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her.  I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones.  Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it?  You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable.  Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was.  What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her.  Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible).  Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative.  I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).  

Really, RivkaT?  A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy.  I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either.  It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued.  I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does.   Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic.  Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”  And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

[justapoet]

mary all those prompts are 👀👀👀 can i get 33 + tarlos please?

I'm so glad you like them, Jamie! Of course you can, and I truly hope you like it! ♥

33. "It hurts to breathe..."

Send me a prompt! | Prompt list

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tell me your secrets (and ask me your questions)

TK had always been a curious person.

Since he was a child, he would ask questions about every single thing he saw around him. From why a window is called "window" to where we go after we're no longer beating, and it never changed throughout the years. His curiosity only grew as the answers didn't exist, and TK would always find himself making questions he would chase after answers that didn't exist.

TK would wonder why the stars shine, or why the sky is blue ― and who named it "sky" anyway? How are the same thing called in different languages, and none of them is wrong? Why does the fire burn, and how do we feel the heat? Who chose the name of the sea, and who was the first person to ever decide that fishes were edible?

His parents would say that, as a baby, he would touch everything he could and be mesmerized by anything new that would come to his sight. They would say they knew he'd be trouble once he started walking, for his hands wouldn't fear touching a single thing, and TK would only laugh at how right they were about that.

As a kid, he would ask too much until his mother ran out of patience, and Enzo had to come to the rescue, taking him to the nearest bookstore or library so he could have a source of both questions and answers. As a pre-teenager, he would ask his teachers, and some of them would be thrilled to be challenged with their knowledge, while others would just say they weren't an encyclopedia.

As a teenager, his doubts and curiosity would lead him to periodic obsessions that would keep him awake at night, or it was just something he used as an excuse to stay awake. Anyhow, it was an escape from his twisted mind and fucked up head ― so, for what's worth, his curiosity had kept him alive when the bare facts didn't want to do so.

When he became an adult, his curiosity was never left behind. His questions changed, though, and he essentially wanted to know how it felt not to feel as down as he did and how it would be if someone ever loved him the way he had always read about in books and fiction. TK would wonder why the world wasn't as bright as he used to see it and how he could just disappear, even if for a little while.

Wondering why it was something TK was better in than anyone he knew.

He never wondered why it was like that, though.

With his curiosity, TK also learned he had to be patient and observe the world around him, which led him to know people from a different angle. He would notice their movements, word choices, and how their eyes moved in each situation ― he would read into people as he would read into books, and it was pretty nice to know how to do that.

He wished he had done that better, though, when it came to Alex. But he read into himself around that time, and he knew that he was desperate for any type of love and affection ― TK wanted the love his younger self always questioned if his older self would get and didn't think twice before jumping into the change he'd have that.

It was entirely his fault; TK knew it.

And he was determined not to make the same misjudgment twice in his life ― because he feared he wouldn't have a life to get right if it happened again.

When he got to Austin, TK was still mad at the world and at himself for being so stupid and losing everything he had achieved through the years. His anger took the best of him for most times, and so did his sadness ― but it opened his eyes for a few new lenses, and he found out it was pretty cool to have more than one set of eyes to read people and situations.

Judd, under his red vision and bitter analysis, was just someone too mad at life to realize other people had feelings, too. He was hostile, had anger problems, and was a pain in the ass ― not that it was entirely wrong ―, and TK would never ever be friends with someone like that.

Under his blue vision and heartbroken analysis, though, Judd was just someone who needed some space and time to find the way back from the place he had gotten lost. He was sad, and melancholic, and seriously in need of help.

And, under the vision that didn't require lenses, Judd was a big-hearted man with a few pieces falling from his soul. He was kind, had horrible jokes, and was profoundly in love with the woman he had gotten married to ― and it was the kind of person TK desperately needed as a brother in his life.

Marjan was a badass firefighter with strong opinions and more feelings she'd let slip out of her sleeve, not to mention how sweet she could be towards those who'd allow a mask to fall without any judgment. She was strong, fearless, and should be a bit less acid to those who were only trying to help ― but she was a best friend TK had missed in his life.

Paul was a riddle, and TK suspected that was what he wanted people to think about him. He was observant ― a little too much ―, alarmed and always had good advice on the tip of his tongue, even if he'd rarely follow someone's help that didn't come from Grace or Carlos. Paul was attentive, patient, and wise ― and TK was a little scared of it but wouldn't trade a best friend like that for the world.

Mateo and Nancy seemed to get along well, for both of them had unending jokes for every situation and never won from Marjan on any of their video games. TK had no clue about how it happened, but suddenly Mateo just revealed he was a Broadway fan, and Nancy let it slip that she had watched every single Marvel movie and series so far ― and it was the end of the peace around the firehouse.

TK wouldn't trade them for anybody else, to be honest. But he would, for sure, lock Nancy in the ambulance in revenge for eating his piece of the pie Grace had baked.

And then, there was Carlos.

In the first moment, TK didn't want to read into him enough to regret his choice of not wanting something serious. It was notorious, almost like a fact known to all humanity, that Carlos had kindness hanging out from each one of his words and movements. His words were nothing but sweet, and every single one of his actions seemed to be careful and calculated.

It was surprising, really, when Carlos had invited him to dance on that first night after a shift at the Honky Tonk. He didn't touch TK at any moment, only doing it when he approached first ― and Carlos seemed to always give him a second to think and rethink if he really wanted to go all the way.

Even if it was the bare minimum of respect, it was rare to find it around.

From the beginning, TK also noticed how patient Carlos could be and how he would never pressure anyone into doing anything. He was dedicated to his friends ― since they've met, TK lost count of how many times he would stop by the firehouse to give Michelle something she mentioned he wanted to eat or offer her a ride ―, and to his job, being a damn good cop.

He was good with kids, and any call with one would get him a bit sad afterward. Even so, TK had seen him countless times sitting with them in the ambulance, telling them a story or a joke to distract them from the needles and exams. It was heartwarming for whoever would see it.

From the beginning, too, Carlos would be a mystery TK didn't really know how to begin to solve. Unlike everything TK could've predicted or expected, Carlos didn't seem to want him just for his body or pretty face ― he seemed to want to get to know him, and that was something TK really couldn't wrap his mind around.

Not only that, but he was a mystery, too, to everyone in the firehouse. Judd had known him already from a distance, his friendship with Michelle bringing him around for years, but nothing more than cordialities and the usual kindness that evaporated from the man. Grace had known him from calls, as well, and only knew that he was a good cop, a good man, and really cared about those he was trying to help.

Other than that, no one knew much. Paul could tell Carlos was someone who really respected his privacy and didn't talk much when he didn't seem comfortable or didn't have to, being quiet even when going out. He didn't drink much and was absolutely punctual, and Paul somehow knew that Carlos loved giving small gifts to people.

Marjan said that he would always listen and give full attention to what anyone was saying, and Mateo couldn't get over the fact Carlos had a Mjölnir autographed by Chris Hemsworth ― and he would never tell how he got that.

Being curious about Carlos, then, was inevitable.

Getting to read and decipher him, though, was a choice. And a choice that TK would never regret taking.

He wasn't fluent just yet, but TK would spend as much time as necessary to learn every single word Carlos had to say, imply, or erase. It was a book, a whole universe, that TK was willing to find out more about.

Turns out Carlos never touches anybody without their complete consent, but he loves to be hugged and held whenever he can. He never complains, and on hard days, he almost purrs to any skin-to-skin contact.

TK loved to know that because he loves contact just as much.

TK also found out that Carlos is quiet most of the time, not only in public, and only gets to speak a lot when he's incredibly excited over something new. He found out through some night hours when, after TK had arrived back from his shift, he had started to talk excitedly about Einstein's Theory of Relativity and everything that involves the whole thing.

He was sure he fell in love again as each minute passed.

Carlos was punctual, but finding out he got ready for every appointment about an hour earlier was surreal for TK. And Carlos loved giving gifts to people just to make their day better ― TK had cried when, after a shift from hell, Carlos offered him a single dandelion, telling him to close his eyes and make a wish.

TK had kissed him deeply before blowing the dandelion.

And out of all the details TK could've learned about Carlos, one that would always be in red letters on the back of his mind is that Carlos could be quiet not only for his comfort but for the comfort of others. And, although it had been transparent with all of the mess and pain in Carlos' eyes when they talked after the meeting on the Farmer's Market, TK had noticed it on small moments through the days.

Carlos wouldn't speak up about his feelings or open up to anybody. He would be in pain, miserable, and silent, not wanting to bother or worry anyone around him.

He had gotten so used to it through the years that TK wasn't surprised when Carlos seemed shocked that he had noticed something was up.

The thing is that TK paid attention. To Carlos more than anyone, indeed, he had learned a few details that he knew Carlos himself didn't know, like how the cop would talk to himself when he thought no one was looking. Or how his lips would tramble a little every time he was going out, or how he would bite his tongue when the concentration was taking over his worries.

There was also that permanent wrinkle on the top of his nose that would deepen whenever he was confused and even more when he was worried. His eyebrows would follow the movement when he was emotional, and he would press his lips together when he got speechless ― and TK loved to kiss it away and watch as his face melted under his touch.

TK was lucky enough to say that he knew Carlos behind all the quietness and politeness ― he knew the lows, the fears, and the clever jokes.

That's why he knew something was wrong when they were driving back home from Judd and Grace's house on a Saturday afternoon, the sun already setting on the horizon.

Carlos hadn't drunk, not a sip, and seemed to be enjoying the company, the talk even if he was quieter than usual, and the kids ― the Vega twins really had fallen in love with him after the sandstorm. Yet, the man had given TK the car keys as they were leaving the house and didn't say much before walking around the car and taking the passager's seat.

Carlos loved to drive, and TK usually only took the wheel when his boyfriend chose to drink on their night out. He didn't do questions, though, and got in the car, taking Carlos' hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

The cop smiled at him, almost thankfully, and then looked out his window.

It was a thirty-minute drive, which had never been a problem for the both of them for some reason, loved to take car rides whenever they could. Ten minutes in the vehicle, though, TK noticed that Carlos was moving quite too much, his hands gripping his pants and his leg bouncing against the floor. His brown eyes wouldn't focus, either, and he would swallow dryly more times in a minute than anyone should.

He wanted to ask if everything was okay, but Carlos beat him to it.

"Stop the car," he asked, his voice seeming to be stuck on his throat. TK frowned worriedly at him but did as he was asked, turning the wheel and parking the car on the curb and watching his boyfriend as his mind seemed to race, and he didn't know what to do.

TK didn't have to wait a second until Carlos was opening the door and walking away from the car, crossing the flower field they'd stopped beside and not looking back at TK, looking too scared to do that. His legs seemed to work automatically, and TK quickly snapped out of his worried state to realize what the hell was going on when Carlos walked towards the empty gazebo further on the field.

Carlos kept walking, his palms feeling sweaty and his feet seeming to work mechanically. He didn't stare at anything around him, his eyes were unfocused, his mouth seemed to have dried up, and he couldn't even hear anything but the thin, high-pitched whistle inside his ears.

The cop found himself walking towards a little empty gazebo, groping the air unconsciously to find the small gate and then opening it and not even bothering to close it before he placed himself against the wall, leaning almost vainly on it. He took a few deep breaths, the warm spring air entering his lungs and seeming to hurt, but he didn't really care.

Carlos closed his eyes, feeling the world and his head spin a few times. His brain could only say "too many people, too many people, too long," but Carlos couldn't utter a single word or move.

Not even when he noticed a movement next to him and could assume that someone was stooping down. He wasn't sure, and he couldn't be sure at that moment. He didn't want to think about it or anything else in the world.

It was when the person sat down next to him, also leaning their head against the wall, that he could connect the dots to the smell of perfume his boyfriend always wore. The other man didn't say anything, just bent his knees and put one of his arms over his legs, and looked straight ahead.

TK knew him well enough to figure that he hated to be seen in such a vulnerable situation.

"I..." Carlos muttered, swallowing hard and looking breathless. "A lot of people, I..." he interrupted himself, feeling the tears that hadn't been falling fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

His lips trembled, and he felt frustrated then. Carlos threw his head back, knowing that it would hit the wall. It was then that TK finally faced him and placed one of his hands on his boyfriend's hand that was still on the floor while the other seemed to pull at his hair.

"It hurts to breathe..." Carlos said, then sobbing. TK's grip on his hand got more solid, and Carlos wouldn't stop crying even if he wanted to ― he felt pathetic, overwhelmed, and he hated to be facing that fact about him in front of someone else.

TK inhaled deeply before saying anything.

"You're on a gazebo," the man began, his voice sweet. "There's nothing here but the two of us and a plant I don't know the name of, but you should," he said, and Carlos could hear a small smile in his voice. His hand let go of his hair, and he began to breathe slowly. "There are only the two of us here. And the stars."

Carlos took a deep breath. Once, twice, three times― just him and TK. Just him and TK. It was all right. Everything was fine.

He held his boyfriend's hand weakly, and TK made sure to squeeze it a little. He was there, just him, and everything was fine. He could breathe, there was air, and there was nobody else but him and the man he loved right beside him.

TK didn't say a word, his thumb caressing the back of Carlos' hand and his eyes analyzing each one of his breaths as he breathed just as slowly. His heart was pounding on his chest, and he had a few questions, but it was alright ― everything was fine, and they had time to talk about it.

The minutes went on like this, quietly, until Carlos, a little calmer but still with a knot in his throat, opened his eyes, swallowing hard and analyzing his surroundings warily. His brown eyes seemed alarmed, rimmed, and his breathing was still shaken.

"Allamanda," he said, then, his voice weak and hoarse. His breathing was smooth now, and TK smiled as he noticed it, even though he hadn't understood what Carlos had said until he gestured toward the flowers with his head.

TK chuckled quietly, amused that his boyfriend actually knew what the flowers were, and leaned his head against the wall again. They stood there for some time ― Carlos couldn't tell how long ― until his breathing returned to normal, and his ears were whistled low enough that he could hear around him.

"Sorry," he said, and TK turned his head, still leaning against the wall. "For this. I had no reason and― and I just..."

"Carlos," the paramedic called in a low voice, interrupting him before he could blame himself or try to explain what he wasn't ready to. "It's all right. You don't have to apologize or justify anything. It happened, that's fine," TK said, confident. Carlos swallowed hard. "It's okay, babe. I promise."

Carlos nodded but didn't seem too confident in agreeing with TK's words. TK looked at some spot in front of him again, and Carlos let his head fall until he was staring at his lap, his hand over his stretched legs and his mind racing with wild thoughts. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and threw his head back, leaning on the wall.

"I've never told anybody," Carlos said, then, all of a sudden. TK turned his head in his boyfriend's direction, bending it a bit with the piece of given information. "About this. The disorder or the crisis," he explained, and TK frowned with worry. "Not even Michelle."

TK waited, not wanting Carlos to shut down with any questions. After a minute or two, he spoke up again.

"I feel pathetic," Carlos said, a humorless chuckle leaving his closed lips. "I know I shouldn't because it's perfectly normal and everything, but..." Carlos swallowed dryly, his lips twisting in some shade of sadness. "I'm an adult. I should've left this in my teenage years, shouldn't I?"

TK didn't answer but thanked God it was a rhetorical question. He didn't quite know what to say.

He couldn't help but ask, though.

"How long you've been hiding these crises?" he asked, and Carlos chuckled humorlessly again. It caused TK's stomach to wrap.

"Since they began," he replied, and TK closed his eyes as if it was a painful truth to face. He squeezed Carlos' hand, and the other man just shrugged. "I was going to tell my father, even before I came out to them, but I heard a conversation over some documentary about mental disorders," Carlos said, and TK didn't like his tone. "I should really stop listening to what he and mom talk about. It would save me mental health," he joked, and TK bit his tongue.

Carlos wanted to cry, but he didn't think he could.

"I don't think they realized, you know? I mean, everyone makes jokes about it," Carlos said, then. "They didn't mean harm, I think. But they were laughing," he told TK, turning his head and not really looking around. "It was― eating me alive, and..." he chuckled again. "They were laughing."

TK squeezed his hand.

"So you figured that would be their reaction," TK supposed.

"Theirs and anybody's," Carlos said. "The only ones who take mental health seriously are the ones to whom it's lacking."

And TK didn't have an answer for that because there wasn't one. He could see what Carlos meant when he said that his parents meant no harm ― mental disorders were only a thing if you knew well enough to understand that sick people didn't want attention or were being dramatic; they just wanted peace.

And it was only genuine when someone that mattered hurt themselves over it, and TK knew that. He had experienced it himself, his mother being usually too skeptical to believe that someone wouldn't have control over their feelings.

Until TK had lost control over himself and his heart had lost the strength to beat for the first time.

Carlos had skepticism surrounding him when it came to taboos such as mental disorders ― and having one wasn't quite the solution to deal with it. His family didn't think it was something more than some drama or lack of control over emotions, and even the best-intended comments could hurt when they were only meant to be seen as a joke.

And TK couldn't see how it must have been to Carlos to feel like it for over a decade ― like a joke. Like who he was and the problems he had were too much, inconvenient, uncomfortable for someone he loved to deal with.

From cover to cover, Carlos had felt like a burden to his family. And although it wasn't their intention to make it like it, the fact they didn't seem to be open enough for Carlos to come to them still twisted something inside TK's soul.

"Hey?" Carlos called beside him, and TK lifted his eyes to find his boyfriend's sad face and closed eyes. "Does anybody else need to know about it?"

TK caressed his thumb over Carlos' skin.

"Not if you don't want them to," he replied. Carlos sighed.

"But?" he asked, and TK's heart swollen with how much he knew how to read him.

"It would be nice if you talked to Mitchell," TK said. "So she can have your back at work, you know?" Carlos sighed. "I know you've dealt with it all your life, babe, but someone has to have your back. Especially in our field," TK explained, and Carlos knew he was right. It didn't make things easier. "You know no one would laugh, don't you? And no one would ignore it, either," the paramedic continued, and Carlos weighted his head forward again.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Carlos said, then. "I've been prepared for the laughing and the ignoring my whole life; what do I do when it doesn't come?" he asked, and TK felt his heart clench inside his chest. "Besides, letting people know just..."

"Makes you feel a weird thing you can't really name?" TK guessed. "Something between guilt, regret, and stupidity and not the relief they've promised you?"

Carlos chucked again, and TK followed him. The cop nodded, and his lips trembled a bit.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Something like that."

A beat of silence, and then TK asked.

"Do you regret that I know it?" he said, and Carlos only closed his eyes again. There was no judgment or expectation in his boyfriend's voice, which is much more comfortable to answer.

"Honestly?" TK nodded. Carlos sighed. "Yes," he said, and TK pressed his lips together in a sad smile. "But I, uh...―" Carlos babbled. "I'm glad I can ask you for a hug now," he said, and TK widely smiled when he noticed the words. Carlos turned his head up to him, smiling expectantly, and the paramedic didn't lose a second before hugging him close to his chest.

Although Carlos was taller, TK knew he loved to be held close to someone and be involved in their arms as if he fit in them. Which, when it came to the two of them, the affirmative was nothing but correct ― Carlos fit in TK's arms seamlessly.

They stayed there for a while more, with Carlos breathing slowly against TK's neck and feeling his heartbeats and TK caressing his fingers through Carlos' curls and nape.

When they got back to the car, Carlos was almost sleeping on the passenger's seat with his head pressed to the window, and TK smiled at the cuteness of the scene and the peace on Carlos' face. He didn't say much, not to say anything, all the way back, sniffing a bit and taking some deep breaths.

TK could relate if being honest. Sharing such a personal thing, that something that should lift the weight out of your shoulders isn't as pretty as people make it seem. It's excruciating, tiring, and it feels like all the power you once had over your lack of control vanishes for a while.

It isn't exactly about being vulnerable, but about how much you can pretend something isn't real if no one else knows about it. And, when someone else does know, it feels a bunch more genuine than it was before ― even if the pain was already breathtaking.

As soon as TK parked in front of their house, he took Carlos' hand in his, squeezing it lightly to wake him from his superficial sleep. The cop opened his eyes a bit confused, breathing in deeply before looking out the window and then turning to his boyfriend, who smiled sweetly at him.

Wordlessly, the pair got out of the car and made their way to the front door, Carlos always a step behind him as they went up the stairs. TK couldn't point out if it was Carlos' habitual protectiveness towards those who he cared about or some kind of embarrassment over the things he wished he didn't mind about, but TK decided it wasn't something he shouldn't ask. Not then, at least.

They walked around their house silently, taking their shoes off before walking to the living room, where TK put his cellphone and wallet over the coffee table. Carlos seemed scared, hiding in the shadows around the corners, almost unsure of what he was doing there ― and, damn, it hurt TK to see that. Even if the paramedic knew it had nothing to do with him or the two of them, seeing the man he loved so out of place in their own house was a dagger to the heart.

TK wanted to suggest something, but Carlos seemed so stuck in his head that he wasn't sure he would be heard. So, he went to the bathroom downstairs silently, taking more time than necessary to wash his hands just so he could see if Carlos would move. When he went back to the living room, his boyfriend wasn't there anymore.

Knowing that he probably needed some space to deal with what happened and with the fact that TK knew about it all, the paramedic found a few things to do downstairs. Putting more water in a bottle to put in the fridge, wash the pair of plates and coffee mugs they've left there in the morning, answer a few texts on their group chat and some others from Grace asking if they've made a safe ride home.

He also checked all locks and windows before taking his phone and slowly climb up the stairs, turning off the lights as he went to their room. There, Carlos was still in the bathroom, and TK plugged his charger before taking off his shirt and pair of jeans.

As he laid down, he could hear the shower on and smiled a bit that Carlos had enough disposition to let himself relax around warm steam. TK sighed, sinking under the covers and closing his eyes for a second to let his thoughts settle around his head.

A second might have been longer, though, when he opened his eyes to the turned-off bedroom lights and the only light source being the semi-open bathroom door from where he could see Carlos' reflection moving a bit. His heavy eyelids wouldn't let him sit up or even move too much, but he used all the strength he had to stay awake and stare as his boyfriend left the bathroom and turned that light off, too.

His head was down as he walked to their bed, and he seemed to hesitate for a second before swallowing hard and turning his body a bit, his direction changing from his to TK's side of the bed. The paramedic waited, just to see how carefully Carlos took the blankets off his body and then moved to crawl up the bed.

The mattress deepened, and TK inhaled sharply ― which made Carlos realize he was awake but didn't stop him from doing whatever it was. TK tried to see something in the dark, but Carlos' warm hand over his naked waist caused every nerve to relax, and his eyelids fell heavy once again. He was a little more alert, though, his worried side speaking loudly.

Carlos put himself between TK's legs, his body half over his, and wrapped his arms around the paramedic's waist, sighing heavily and placing his head in the middle of TK's abdomen. Instinctively, TK's hand was in Carlos' curls, and the cop felt like he could cry just with that touch again.

"Am I hurting you?" Carlos whispered in the dark. "Do you want me to move?"

"Nah," TK grumbled. "You okay?" he asked, and Carlos just stood quiet. TK didn't pressure him into saying anything, perfectly comfortable with whatever Carlos wanted to talk about.

The cop closed his eyes for a second and then exhaled wearily against TK's stomach. He moved his legs to tangle it with TK's and the blankets, the coldness of one bringing relief to his racing nerves.

"Not quite," he said. "I'll be."

TK hugged him the best he could manage to in their position, caressing Carlos' bare skin in comfort.

"Don't rush yourself into it," TK murmured. Carlos closed his eyes, ignoring a bit of a headache on the side of his temple.

"Won't," Carlos said, and TK knew he was telling the truth.

Because Carlos was kind, sweet, loving, and the easiest person to love. He's the kind of person the paramedic tried to avoid because TK simply knew that he would fall in love with him ― it was Carlos, after all, and TK knew better than trying to fool himself with the premise he could only do casual.

TK searched for questions without answers, and Carlos had all the answers TK wanted to find the questions to. He was pretty sure he could discover why the sky is blue in the brown of Carlos' eyes. He could find out why the languages change just by kissing his lips. The reason fire would burn would be written over Carlos' skin, and the sea could be explained but never compared to how deeply Carlos felt things.

TK was curious, indeed, but he didn't mind waiting for the answers if it meant he would discover Carlos page by page, breath after breath.

Carlos, deep down, couldn't wait to be deciphered, too. And he knew things would be better and would be good if he tried to see himself through somebody else's lenses. It would take time, effort, and much more talking than he liked to think about ― but it would be alright.

Because they didn't have to wonder if they'd be alone while trying to be better.

Because they didn't have to wonder what it would be like to share some of the weight.

Because the answers weren't written, and they could always wonder what they were.

Because, for now, it didn't hurt to breathe.

[dailylogyn]

Logyn Meta: Loki & Sigyn’s relationship in the Marvel Comics

Photo Source (by Sexy-Salmon): https://lokisergi.tumblr.com/post/70164902295/siege-loki-problems-it-almost-looks-innocent

Other Logyn Meta’s: https://dailylogyn.tumblr.com/tagged/logyn-meta

Did you know Sigyn was in the Marvel Comics long ago? Did you know Loki had a wife? 

Oh...that’s probably because Marvel wanted you to forget their terrible writing mistakes concerning this great Norse Couple. 

Let’s dive into this exploration of history where the Marvel writers realized they fucked up on telling a perfectly good couples story, and in the process, setting off a spark of rebellion that caused some retconning and a group of fans to demand justice for both Loki & Sigyn -- not just as a couple, but as their own individual beings. 

#JusticeforSigyn #JusticeforLoki #JusticeforLogyn

Where it First Began (Meeting & Marriage of Lies):

In September of 1978, Thor #275 came out featuring the first appearance of Sigyn, Loki’s wife from Norse Mythology. She was introduced as a beautiful Asgardian Loki had randomly come across while looking into a crystal ball inside his castle, wanting to find some companionship to fill his loneliness. 

However, when Loki came with riches and jewels to offer her in exchange for her hand in marriage, Sigyn outright rejected him, stating she would never take someone as vile as him, even stating she was already engaged to an Asgardian Warrior part of Odin’s guard -- Theoric. 

Unable to accept this, Loki came up with a plan to have her fiancee killed during a mission, resulting in the Trickster taking on the disguise of Theoric in order to take Sigyn for his own. Despite having slightly suspicions of her lover being more romantic than before, Sigyn didn't notice that her lover wasn’t exactly who she thought he was.

Now comes the day of the wedding as Odin marries the happy couple. This was when Loki finally revealed his true self and what he had done. Odin tried to null the marriage, but it was against Asgardian law for even the High Father to do such a thing. Hence, Sigyn accepted her fate as Loki’s wife. This caused Odin to name her the Goddess of Fidelity. 

Where it’s Heading (Cargo of Incantation-Fetter’s Arms):

Loki being Loki, he did some shit that ended up with him being imprisoned in a tree by Odin, something that infuriated Sigyn, resulting in her trying to take control over Donald Blake to use over the All-Father as a way to free her husband from his punishment. However, it didn’t work out, resulting in a bunch of other crazy shit happening and putting Thor on their trail.

After Balder was killed, Loki was put on trials for his crimes and received yet another punishment that Sigyn had to protect him from -- having burden over the fact she was “the evil’s wife.” Just like the classic Norse tale, she holds a bowl over his head, shielding him from snake venom and leaving to empty it momentarily when it became full, resulting in Loki cursing her. 

Also, Loki and Sigyn had a child -- Narvi, but they died young, being used as the binding to imprison Loki (following the Norse myth too.) 

Some more crazy shit happens and now Odin has shackled Loki to Sigyn so he doesn’t cause anymore trouble. Loki of course is not pleased about this one bit. Having had enough of this, he went to Odin demanding to be released, only resulting in him being banished to an outpost. 

There Just Might be Hope????:

Some more shit happens again, resulting in Loki being stuck in an astral form and bound to a suit of armor so he could reside in Asgard thanks to Sigyn. A fight happens with Thor, Loki and Mephisto, putting Sigyn in danger. This is when for the first time ever, Loki ends up having a tender confession of love over Sigyn, asking Thor to save her since he could not.

It’s unknown if this is just Loki putting on an act or being real, but you know how the Trickster God can be. 

After the battle, while Loki had released Sigyn from her marital vows, his wife swore to always be there for him when he needed her.

And that’s the last we see of Sigyn’s regular appearance in the comics in 1996. She makes a cameo in Avengers: Unleashed #1 in 2019, but it’s nothing more than a flashback to her time of helping Loki. 

A Hypothesis & Notes on their relationship in comics:

The whole entire plotline consisting of Theoric and Loki killing him in order to obtain Sigyn is just something most of the fandom doesn’t like. Not only does it objectify Sigyn, but it makes Theoric a Pointless character to introduce anyway, only used as a tool for means in which Loki can get Sigyn, when honestly, he could have done so in a different way.

I like that they stick with Sigyn being the faithful wife of Loki (that’s who she is), but they honestly don’t give her any agency in this besides that trait alone. The writers don’t even let Sigyn be her own damn person! She is SO MUCH MORE than Loki’s loyal wife. SHE IS A FREAKIN GODDESS! I know there is more we can do with her.

Instead of pulling the ‘woe is me, my husband is evil and I’ll just go along with it’ card, something else could have been done. LIKE LITERALLY, ANYTHING ELSE! We know Loki can be a troublemaker, but Sigyn knows how to deal with his shit. She isn’t some damsel in distress here! It’s another reason Loki likes her.

Couples can bicker in times, it’s normal in marriages and relationships, but to have Loki whining about how much of a burden Sigyn is is just....WHY? I mean, you went after the woman and killed another guy for her. This is what you wanted! *shakes head at writers*

I will give them kudos though for some of the stuff near the end when Loki actually starts displaying his true feelings of love towards Sigyn. And sadly we only got a little taste of that...and we aren’t even sure if it was an act or Loki being real.

THE FACT THAT SIGYN ISN’T EVEN IN THE COMICS ANYMORE SINCE 1996. She’s only mentioned, but it’s just as a tale, not as an actual person who USED to be his wife. They literally killed her off. EXCUSE ME! #JusticeforSigyn (We’re still waiting for her in the MCU...)

NORSE MYTHOLOGY TIE-INS:

There were some moments in the comics between them that they writers took from Norse Mythology with them. Thought It’d be important to list.

Loki’s Punishment of snake venom dripping onto him while Sigyn holds a bowl to collect it and shield him.

Narvi being Loki & Sigyn’s son who was killed and his insides used to bind Loki for his punishment.

Sigyn being Loki’s wife. 

DIFFERENT WRITERS, DIFFERENT CHARACTERIZATION:

As is the case with everything out there, if you have different writers working on the same project, there is bound to be a difference of characterization and interpretation, resulting in OOC moments or just something completely different altogether. After researching and pondering on this subject, I FULLY believe this is what has happened with Loki & Sigyn’s relationship in the comics. Let’s take a look at the evidence I’ve found:

For the comics Sigyn’s creators were Roy Thomas, John Buscema and Tom Palmer. 

Loki’s creators for the comics were Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Jack Kirby, Violet Barclay, and honestly, many others.  

My favorite quotes on them from the comics:

Wait? Despite the crappy writing, I actually have quotes I like from the comics? GASP! I call these the only positives from the comics of their relationship. 

“My Sigyn-- the love of my immortal life...” — Loki, Thor Annual Vol 1 #19

“Aye-- For only Sigyn, of all in the realm eternal, feels love for Loki. And among all Asgardians, only for Sigyn does Loki feel...” — Loki, Thor Annual #19

“Sigyn loves me-- just as she is the only thing in the nine worlds that I truly love.”— Loki, Thor #483

Photo Source: https://www.zerochan.net/1262293#full

Fandoms Wish for MCU & Future Appearance Justice:

Fans would like to see Sigyn make an appearance, not only in the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe), but also the Marvel Comics once again. They would like to see Loki & Sigyn’s characters done justice with proper writing, especially regarding their relationship with each other. 

This is why there is plenty of fans out there writing Fanfiction, making Fanart, Roleplaying and even Cosplaying them, giving their interpretation’s of what their relationship would be like. This is THE VERY REASON this blog and @sigynappreciation​ was created to help spread awareness and unite fans who feel the same way. 

These characters are very near and dear to our hearts. Some of us even worship them in our religions. We would like to see their relationship grow and portrayed in a way that helps fill the pieces of the missing puzzle to how they came to be in Norse Mythology. 

CONCLUSION:

Although their relationship in the comics usually leaves fans grimacing, at least we got to have it explored. Who knows if Marvel will ever touch anything with them ever again, but at least it’s brought together a small community that continues to go strong -- and honestly, that kind of unity is what Loki & Sigyn would want. 

So imagine to your hearts content! Draw that fanart! Write those fanfictions! Dress up in that cosplay! Be those characters! But just remember, you have a family here to love and support you. 

SOURCES:

Sigyn’s info on Marvel Database: https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sigyn_(Earth-616)

Loki’s info on Marvel Database: https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Loki_Laufeyson_(Earth-616)

Sigyn on Marvel Universe: http://www.marvunapp.com/Appendix/sigynthor.htm

Logyn on the Shipping Wiki: https://shipping.fandom.com/wiki/Logyn

Loki & Sigyn’s relationship through Media: https://www.alehorn.com/blogs/blog/norse-mythology-loki-and-sigyn