#the long list of violent things he could do to me that i can't repeat on main has existed from the first time he talked on screen

[harrypottermovieproblems]

On Paapa Essiedu as Severus Snape (HBO Harry Potter)

As HBO's Harry Potter series rolls into pre-production - a sentence that, ten years ago, would have undoubtedly brought me extreme joy but in 2024 simply makes me regret the money that will be flowing into anti-trans politicians' bank accounts because of it - casting rumors have started to leak out.

The first of these is that I May Destroy You's Paapa Essiedu is being courted for a role as Severus Snape. As a former ardent Harry Potter enjoyer, I have several things I would like to say about this, and will do so in the form of a likely incohesive yet numbered list.

I've never personally seen Essiedu's work, but I hear that he is an exceptionally talented and charismatic actor, and I wish him well.

Unfortunately, I will likely be judgmental of any actor who decides to condone JKR's bigotry and ongoing wealth by signing on to this project.

I'm enthusiastic (or would be, if I could be enthusiastic about HBO HP to begin with) about the idea of introducing more actors of color to play Harry Potter characters. I was a long-standing proponent of a WoC Hermione, including the casting of Noma Dumezweni in the unfortunately atrocious Cursed Child, and also of a mixed-race Harry.

I find it interesting that production thinks it is a good idea to cast a handsome Man of Color as a canonically unattractive, prejudiced, perpetually antagonistic, former hate group member who essentially joined the Wizarding version of the KKK and who is mainly remembered as an incel who regularly bullied children, including the child of the (presumably white, though this casting is yet to be seen) woman who was the object of his unwanted affections and for whose murder he was partially responsible.

Severus Snape, of course, is a complex character who deserves (if any of these characters 'deserve' anything when HBO HP will, again, be funneling money into the pockets of the anti-trans movement in the UK) to have his story told in a nuanced way.

He is still a character who signed up to be a Death Eater, which has always been Harry Potter's allegory for a violent white supremacist hate group.

Time will tell whether this casting will be representative of the series as a whole; that is to say, whether there will be enough actors of color within the show in general so as to make casting a Black actor in this specific role no longer problematic.

Time will also tell whether James Potter and company will be cast as actors of color, or whether the bullying flashback in OotP is about to take on a wholly new implication despite, and I cannot reiterate this enough, Severus Snape being the one who eventually joined the genocidal hate group.

We have yet to see whether the remaining Harry Potter fandom at large reacts to this casting decision with any more grace than racist Lord of the Rings fans did on release of the Rings of Power TV series or Star Wars fans did at any point within the last decade. I hope for Essiedu's sake that the mistakes of the past are not repeated, and wish him peace and protection in the face of the potential onslaught to come.

With the creation of this show obviously already stirring controversy from LGBT advocates, I can't help but wonder if this news has been dropped as a distraction, or even a sacrificial tidbit, so that the ensuing backlash from awful fucking people will allow production to decry any criticism of the new show without having to re-address JKR's ongoing opposition to both science and basic human rights.

Once again, I hope that this is not the case, because Essiedu specifically and indeed all actors from marginalized groups generally deserve much, much better.

xoxo

[acertainmoshke]

Redoing the Intro One More Time!

Updated 9/30/23

Call me Moshke Palmoni (they/them). I spend as much time as I can writing, but that is not as much as it might be because there's also a lot of life going on right now. I also like to read, knit, collect vintage ephemera, and play with my cat.

General WIP tag list: [your url here!]

Active WIPs:

7 Days for Fae

Coming October 2024

10-year-old Fae is isolated by her disabilities—autism and ataxia—that causes her communication and mobility issues. She doesn’t have any friends her age, and she’s accepted that. She reads a lot and plays pretend in the forest at the end of the street. Her family loves her for who she is and so far that’s been enough. Until, that is, she meets the new kid. His name is Brownie and for reasons Fae can’t imagine he wants to be her friend no matter how weird or awkward she is. When he still invites her over after a meltdown in class gets her suspended for a week, she decides to take a risk and accept. The ensuing adventures are marred only by the other sudden change in her life—an aunt Fae barely knows has moved in with her family. She doesn’t know how to talk to Fae and, worse, refuses to accept Fae’s nonbinary parent’s identity. But since no one else seems to know how to deal with the mess their home life has become, Fae tries—with Brownie’s encouragement—to sort the situation out herself.

Cold Iron

In 1956, Shakatra Zoawin is 40. Or they might be 20, depending on how you look at it. They are a changeling and their aging is kind of weird, but that doesn't matter to them because they have a good life in the subway tunnel with their brother, Kris. Both of them are changelings swapped as infants for human children and then rejected by their human families. Their wits and powerful magic have kept them alive this long, and Shaka is perfectly content to keep going. After they do one little thing to appease their guilt: find the 40-year-old they were swapped for and free her to have her own life in the human world free from servitude in the courts of the Fae. And so begins an adventure that will have repercussions neither of them could have imagined.

Intro posts for the books in this series: Cold Iron, City of Frost, Song on Repeat, and Future Not Found

Character Intro Posts: Shakatra, Kris, Lynn, Tatiana, Liliana, Harry, Doug, Beth, Aaron, Cassie, and Althea

Tag list: @pga-books

Blades of Ice

In the kingdom of Halara, orcs and elms and slimes and centaurs live peacefully side-by-side with humans. Less peaceful is the relationship between Halara and their neighboring kingdom of Eng. The generation-long conflict has drawn in other nearby kingdoms and stagnated artistic and social works. All Aryel ever wanted to do was be left alone to love who they want and practice sparring with their axe, but as a royal child they have responsibilities, namely leading the entire army. There's no talk of ending the war in any way but victory, just as Halara won its initial freedom from Eng 300 years ago, but this endless fighting is getting them nowhere but too many funerals and not enough bread. And then when a familial tragedy leads to Aryel leading both the army and the kingdom, they know they can't balance the tensions and demands of everyone at once and win this war. Something has to give, and they just hope it isn't the entire kingdom.

Backburnered and still-in-planning WIPs under the cut.

Time Traveling Anthropologists

(permanent title coming soon)

Set approximately 2 generations in the future. Esther Dahan has her dream job. She gets to time travel with her new team, and against all historical odds they are there to study ancient cultures rather than do anything violent. Their first assignment is 8 months in the 9th century Jewish kingdom of Khazaria. Everything is going great—illicit romance with a Khazarian blacksmith notwithstanding—until Esther finds a plate that doesn't belong in this time. Curious and suspicious but without enough evidence to involve her boss, she investigates on her own, discovering much more than she planned—and leading to far worse consequences than she could have imagined.

Tag list: @amielbjacobs @kingkendrick7 @moonluringfrost @another-white-hole

To Die Among the Stars:

20 people have been chosen to test the effects of faster-than-light space travel on human minds and bodies. They were taken from prisons, wellness centers, and other areas where near-certain death seemed like a reasonable chance to take. Each have their reasons for being there, and their secrets. Against all odds, the jump to FTL doesn't destroy the ship. But the further away from Earth they travel, the more strange things begin to happen that call the purpose of the experiment into question. And then the impossible: a human distress signal in deep space.

Told from 4 rotating perspectives: Pixel, a semiverbal illegal human modder; Ri, whose body and mind are overloaded with mods; Zippy, a young disabled woman desperate to support her family; and Peppermint, a genetic experiment combining human and cat DNA raised in an isolated lab.

Tag list: @hd-literature

Falling Petals

A multigenerational story about trauma, love, and disability set against the backdrop of one Jewish family. Beginning in the 1920's with Ira Katz, who is brilliant and charming with no understanding at all of tact or why the best way isn't always blunt observations and mean jokes. It follows him as he grows up, marries, and inherits his father's drugstore, and then moves on to following one of his sons, Daniel. Daniel grows up in the 1940's and is naturally gentle, kind, and sensitive, but is treated so harshly for these traits he learns to hide himself away inside and only show emotion in explosive bouts of anger. It follows him through adolescence, college, and marriage, before moving on to one of his daughters, Shoshana. Shoshana grows up in the 1960's and is colorful, young for her age, and full of social panic. None of them know how to relate to each other or survive in a world that each of them see the beauty in but aren't allowed to connect with in their own way. And yet through the pain and confusion, they are full of love. And then everything changes for them with Shoshana's niece, Naomi, growing up in the 1990's, who will not be allowed to see herself as broken.

[nny11writes]

Nunny! I'm sending you asks for your game.

I'm tempted to send you the entire post and just see the Nunny Rant. You might not even do She-ra. I'm thinking of She-ra sending these but go off about star wars or something else if you think it applies better to the question :D

the character everyone gets wrong (ahahhahahaaaaaaaaa)

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about (im sure there is a long list)

9 and 10 - Worst part of fanon and worst part of canon (imo there is some overlap)

13. worst blorboficiation

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

lakhglkajfas, I think my rant would mostly just be keyboard smashes and crying emojis so this is the better way to go lol!

the character everyone gets wrong God, like, fucking- ALL of them. :) Buuuuuut the one that's bugging me the most recently is Mermista.

I am SO sick of post canon Mermista in c/a fics specifically. Mermista would not hold a grudge that hard that long and that violently!!! Stop having her hate Catra and actively be out to do harm to her. Mermista's response to losing her kingdom was like a bad breakup where she just cried in a tub eating ice cream. Her response to seeing HORDAK at the end of the series was just a, "So are we good with him now?" implying that she's chill to be chill.

Mermista and Catra 100% would sit at a table calling one another a bitch (begrudgingly fond and pretend to not be) back and forth. Mermista would not be out to skin Catra alive! Mermista wants to talk to Catra about her murder novels because Perfuma reads too slowly and doesn't like spoilers but she NEEDS to talk to someone about the butler who has a brain cell because Sea Hawk seemed to miss the whole first half of the book AND FURTHER MORE-

9. and 10. - Worst part of fanon and worst part of canon

Worst part of fanon is the fucking shippers. This went from one of the more open and accepting fandoms for all ships that I'd ever been in to one of the worst.

Like, straight up, one of the fics that lives rent free in my head is an explicit fic where Catra and Hordak enthusiastically consent to having sex. Like Hordak is trying to be kinda standoffish but can't stop looking at boob window tits, he was Entrapta trained I'm afraid. The number of times I think of his awkward proposing they do it more frequently followed shortly by Catra dressing and winking saying, "Seriously, great cock!" is a lot lol. It's such a porn movie style fic and there is something fantastic to be said about it.

But you even hint that Catra could be headcanonned as anything besides a lesbian and your body will be found in a few months time in several different bags. Suggesting Catra and Hordak having any romantic or sexual relationship probably gets you reported to the fucking government or something. So there's a reason it's never made a rec list from me but fuck it I'm mentioning it now.

They aren't real. If I want to occasionally have a giggle about them and make my little dolls bump uglies everyone else should politely not look while my fellow weirdly sane people who get that this is all make believe but sure we're the freaks here come poke and enjoy!

Fucking shipping wars and discourse man. I'm sick of it.

Worst part of canon for me is the censorship and uncertainty that caused various issues with the plot and prevented the show from being even stronger. You can see it in real time while watching, but man it was wild in December 2018 to see how professional media talked about the show and Catra and Adora being adoptive sisters, to AJ (I think?) getting dumped on for repeating that idea and having to apologize, to the open gayness at the end. I love SPOP, but the rocky terrain the crew-ra had to navigate really did impact the quality and created weird gaps that asshole fans hunkered down into. Like, we cannot pry some of those fuckers out.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

I need you to understand that my immediate response when I started writing this answer out was a very strained and painful sigh through my nose as my brain returned a static white noise sound.

I am really tired of forcing this jock!Adora and slacker!Catra thing. Like, it started in modern AUs but it's gone and infected people's idea of canon as well. It falls into a bit of the "dumb adora" trope, which people just don't seem to actually understand what that means or is about. It also falls into Shadow Weaver's narrative of who Catra is which is wild. Like. Really wild.

You are telling me Catra, a cat person who grew up in a military, is actively against exercise? Yes, she would 100% sleep in a sunbeam for a nap, and then she wakes up and craves some low key chaos and violence.

You are telling me Adora, forced into a golden child and leadership position, is bad at reading and math and science because all she cares about is training? Adora 100% enjoys physical fitness and using her body, but she's got a sharp mind on her and there's no way in hell she doesn't like to work it too.

I am just exhausted with it in modern AUs, and now it has gone to infect canon interpretations. It flattens their characters out, ignores/denies parts of their abuse, and nukes their abilities from orbit. I hate it so so much.

Also if I have to see one more fic or art piece where Catra is willingly and happily wearing dresses, skirts, and heels I swear to fucking god I will KILL. :)

13. worst blorboficiation

Again, this is all of them. Everyone suffers from being blorbo'd to an insane degree, but it just shifts depending on which character is the favorite of that part of the fandom. You have talked several times about the insanity of Catra fans vs. Hordak fans, the blorboification is insane there. Same with Catra fans vs. Glimmer fans.

Like. God damn. I'm so glad the Adora vs. Catra fan fights died out real quick because this fandom is exhausting enough.

With Catra being my favorite it's extra exhausting because there is CONSTANTLY people attacking her and then total asshats trying to defend her who I do not want to be associated with. I love her. She's a fucking idiot and a bastard and a baby. Somehow, every take on her is both the worst and factually correct and then the fandom fights.

Tipsy, I. Am. Tired.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

OKAY

Let's fucking talk about how GLIMMER IS NOT AN EVIL BITCH. Can we talk about that? STOP TRYING TO LEAVE THIS POST AND SIT YOUR ASS DOWN WE'RE TALKING ABOUT THIS AGAIN because someone needs to hear it louder in the back.

Glimmer is the character who is probably be done the dirtiest by the fandom but for wildly different reasons throughout the whole show. Hands down.

After S1 fandom took Glimmer and made her into an entitled dumbass whiner who threw money and her titles at her problems. They made her act like a child without any complexity. And it 100% took me from not really liking her character much to detesting her which is outrageous every time I remember that I kinda hated her at that point.

This did not improve post S2. :)

Post S3 probably was the most sympathetic and understanding the fandom was to Glimmer but it came at the cost of trying to bulldoze Catra for the Portal and people making callout posts like these characters were real people. I feel like the rise of some of the G/A shippers that I really can't stand was around this time. It was catra vs. glimmer fans going bat shit and drawing lines for ships.

If they couldn't assassinate Glimmer's character, by god the fandom would assassinate both Catra and Adora's in wildly different ways instead!

Do I need to talk about post S4? The idea of dark Glimmer and Glimmer going off the rails should have been a fun thing to play with in the sandbox and instead just writing it down made me cringe. Now Glimmer has to be an evil bitch because she had a trauma response and made bad decisions, now she is irredeemable because I made up a situation where she did something she didn't in canon for reasons so OOC someone probably slapped Donut Steel on it somewhere.

There was a little lift post series, but man people are holding onto Glimmer being a spoiled brat to play off of for Catra or a cruel bitch for Catra and, again, as a Catra fan, I want to bite bite kill kill bite kill kill kill!!!

Glimmer is allowed to grow up from being a spoiled kid who had good intentions and was naive. She is allowed to be over eager, bratty, petty, silly, funny, caring, and smart too. She's allowed to make bad choices and struggle with how to recover from it.

STOP MAKING ME THE LEAVE BRITTNEY ALONE MEME FOR GLIMMER

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs-

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Also, as a second, optional thing for you to answer: Here's a list of six songs; which character do you think that they fit with the most... and why? Blinding Ghosts Light Of Love No Light, No Light Throwing Bricks Various Storms & Saints

OKAY I LOVE THIS QUESTION.

And *technically* I didn’t get any of these songs as requests, so none of them will overlap with any of the drabbles.

Under the cut because this got long.

Blinding: I’d go with Ezra for this one. It’s actually on my playlist for the Oracle series I started and then left sitting to collect dust haven’t worked on in a while. This line, which gets repeated, is what speaks to me most in regards to that AU: No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone I REALLY NEED TO GET BACK TO THAT ONE. THERE'S A HALF-WRITTEN CHAPTER FULL OF FANCY EZRA AND FANCY READER IN A FANCY LOUNGE THAT I NEED TO FINISH.

Ghosts: Okay here’s where the *technically* comes in. Ghosts is the demo version of I’m Not Calling You A Liar, which I did get a request for (for Din) and the lyrics are the same. BUT! The tempo and tone is slightly lighter and more carefree for Ghosts, so I’d set that one in my Long Con AU for Pedro Across the Street. It’s about not being sure that the other person won’t burn you in some way, but that not being enough of a deterrent to stay away. I’m not calling you a thief, just don’t steal from me and When you kiss me I’m happy enough to die. Stick out to me for PaTS. I’m excited to share the one I’m working on for the Din request, though!!

Light of Love: First of all, I love this song a whole lot. Secondly I could go two ways with it. I feel like it works best for Dieter, but I could also make a strong case for Frankie. It touches on drug use/addiction and depression but on coming out of it and realizing that there is light and there are people who care and about fighting even when you want to quit. For Dieter: Flashes appeared in the corners of my eyes, I saw the stars and I didn’t ask why. Heard the voices and caught my breath, so close and yet so far from death - it also came out during the height of pandemic closures and lockdowns, which tracks with the timeline of The Bubble and the theme of isolation. For Frankie: I’ve been up all night, let’s stay awake. Push it further, you know I’ll never break. He says at one point he doesn’t sleep much, and I HC that plays partly into him getting busted for cocaine - he uses it to stay up for work or simply to stay up and not have nightmares. And then the push it further refers to how easily Pope and Tom (and maybe others) talk him into things he probably knows aren’t the best idea but doesn’t trust his own judgement enough to say no.

No Light, No Light: Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. This one is Joel. Forget the mention of blue eyes (Or think of them as blue in sadness not color) There’s a theme of loss/things fading and of jarring violence. These lines specifically point to Joel for me: I never knew daylight could be so violent. A revelation in the light of day. You can't choose what stays and what fades away Along with Would you leave me if I told you what I've done? And would you leave me if I told you what I've become? There's also a line about wanting to make something right but not being ready for that conversation yet, and if that's not Joel & Ellie idk what is.

Throwing Bricks: This is the only one that made me really scratch my head. I like this one a lot, and it always cheers me up when it comes on because it's fun to sing along with. But if I had to match it to a character, I'm not sure who it would be. Maybe Nico? Since it's about building a man and bringing him to life and that man is a whole weird blank slate for writers to play with? (Me writing ACR: I built a man made out of bricks, and lived inside his chest. I beat my head against the wall to make a heart beat in his breast)

Various Storms & Saints: Hi, this one is for Aphelion Oberyn. It's about being caught in something overwhelming and powerful but in an "I chose this on purpose" sort of way, and about trying to keep finding a way forward. Lines that feel the most fitting: And I'm in the throes of it, somewhere in the belly of the beast. But you took your toll on me, so I gave myself over willingly. And also: I know it seems like forever, I know it seems like an age. But one day this will be over, I swear it's not so far away. It's definitely a more melancholy song, so I think it would be relevant to the time in his life between the last person he marked and meeting Reader.

Thank you so much for sending this alternate ask! This was fun to think about, and you chose some really good ones!

[cat3ch1sm]

💚| request for @anzaisaki !! so sorry for how late this is:(( ily and thank u for reading my works<333 this does run a bit long so im sorry if i went overboard, i tend to do that especially with kurapika😅😅 chrollo's though is shorter than the others to make up for it😀

🥝| my requests are open!! send something in for the fandoms I write for! reminder that you have to be following me to request!! also read the rules :)

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mentions of being attacked, murder, light kidnapping, trauma mentions!

how do they react when their s/o gets amnesia? ~ kurapika, leorio, kite, and chrollo

a/n~ amnesia is a condition in which the individual affected suffers memory loss! this can result from a number of things, such as epilepsy and substance abuse, but for these i went with the common "head injury" :D reader has permanent retrograde amnesia, in which they have trouble remembering last events and people.

🐢| also kurapika is the only one with a definite setting, the rest are just kinda made up haha

kurapika

~ reader works with kurapika as a bodyguard (succession war)!~

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ after kurapika had gone down for almost twelve hours straight following the overuse of his nen abilities, you had happily taken up his position while he was put away to recover. it wasn't an easy task anyway, but when you threw a baby, a war in which said baby could possibly be killed, a perpetually nervous mother, spine-chilling Nen beasts, and several power-hungry monarchs into the mix, it was close to unbearable. and managing all of that for as long as you did was beyond draining.

・❥・when you fainted, finally having overdone it, you did feel yourself hit your head on something hard as you went down, but you didn't figure it was that bad- that was, until, you had woken up in the medical wing with an unfamiliar blonde man standing over you, an apoplectic expression on his face.

・❥・after discovering that you, his beloved partner, no longer seem to remember who he is, kurapika goes a little numb. he halfheartedly tries to jog your memory, but inside he knows it's useless. you shy away from him when he leans down to try and kiss you, flinch when he brushes your hair from your face. you notice his eyes dull and the circles under his eyes darken, but you can't understand why. you were his anchor, but now you've sank, and he just can't handle losing another person. not with the eyes of his massacred family on the very same boat. kurapika walks out, face dark and an odd red glow beneath his golden bangs, just as a nurse comes in; you ask who that was.

leorio

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ leorio should have been the one with that patient. what were you doing handling him, anyway? he had had a history of being violent, resisting treatment, all of that. trying to calm him down was futile, and you knew that. but when the guy made a rude remark about your boyfriend, you had gotten angry, bold, and went right up to him to finally tell him off only for him to slam you right into the ground by your shoulders. defending him.

・❥・now here leorio was, frustrated and guilty, standing over your lying frame in a gurney.

・❥・"y/n, it's me. Leorio? Remember? Don't act like you don't know me. I'm begging you, just remember who I am."

・❥・he could tell you were getting panicked. leorio had been standing at your side for at least a half hour, trying desperately to evoke some response that would tell him you hadn't really forgotten who he was. but no, his fears were true. he could tell you were growing panicked- a man you didn't know beside you for so long just repeating the same thing over and over again. who knew what you suspected? so he had to give up for your sake. he should let you rest, anyway.

・❥・you think you should know who he is. something about this man feels like home. but as he exits the room, back facing you, you tell yourself that it's just a feeling.

kite

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ what could he say? kite had to give in to your pleas at some point. he'd put a bullet in his head if he had to listen to another hour of you begging to join him on some job to slay some hostile entity somewhere. so he finally let you come on the promise that you didn't act like his partner.

・❥・you agreed, and off the two of you went- but kite could tell that a while into the fight, you were in over your head. he could see your body weakening and your aura wavering. so he'd offered to let you rest a bit, he could handle it himself, but you simply declared "you're not supposed to act like my partner, remember?" and kept going right up until the damn creature came straight for your head.

・❥・he was surprised you'd dodged as quickly as you did. kite had sort of been expecting it to blow your entire skull to hell. but you didn't wake up anyway, so he finished his battle quickly to get you help. but when you finally awaken, something is off. your eyes aren't very focused, and they don't illuminate the way they usually do when you see him. you don't have to say anything. he realizes.

・❥・his demeanor is stiff. he seems exasperated, really, like you've aggravated him somehow. but when he mutters under his breath, "idiot," his eyes, bearing weary dark circles, are sad. he leaves quietly with his blue hat pulled over his eyes. you lay and watch him go.

chrollo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ chrollo's the only one of these men that will stay regardless of whether you're able to remember him or not. if he can't force you to know who he is, he has no issue doing everything again. you'll fall in love with chrollo all over again after he poses as the knight in shining armor that stayed by your side in the hospital when you had nobody else. although, it isn't as sweet a picture as it may seem.

・❥・if for some reason, that isn't how he goes about it, chrollo will literally straight up kidnap you from the hospital, if he takes you there at all, after realizing you don't remember who he is. he'll pretend the incident never happened and take extraordinary measures to make sure you can't escape his grasp until you have no choice but to love him again. he'll gaslight and manipulate you until he gains your affection once more.

[columboscreens]

there are definitely flaws with It's All in the Game but the same is true of even a lot of the best loved classic episodes. I personally find Spielberg's episode overrated because it's a bog-standard murder story, it is a good looking episode but the plot is meh and it's full of the worst murder mystery cliches like the insertion of an incompetent blackmailer who invariably becomes another victim -- a cliche repeated throughout the series

personally I rank It's All in the Game up near the best of the classic series. maybe it's not as good as Prescription Murder, Ransom for a Dead Man, Death Lends a Hand, Short Fuse, or Forgotten Lady, but I'd still put it in my top ten for the entire Columbo canon

(most of those listed above have flaws too, everything does, and a lot is personal taste as to which flaws are the worst ones)

I didn't know he had written it in the 70s, but that does explain why it feels so much more like a classic Columbo episode than most of the other revival episodes felt like to me

also I know they're movies not episodes but. hard habit to break tbh

anyway my biggest problem is the way it ends. imo he should've let them both go, the guy they killed was abusing them and threatened to kill one of them, they had no recourse. go to the cops? cops wouldn't have done a thing and the guy would've retaliated violently. and you know there's no way they'd get a fair trial even if they pled self-defense

Columbo to me has always been like... some mythical good cop, the kind that doesn't exist in real life or would get murdered by his fellow cops if he did. he carries no gun, he's compassionate to murderers he meets, he tells suspects to stop talking & get a lawyer... he sets up one of his fellow cops (who outranks him!) to incriminate himself by trying to frame a crook, that can't have made Columbo very popular with his fellow cops

I just felt like when Columbo knew the whole story he should've helped them both. again, it could be worse, he could've arrested both. but even setting aside my personal morality, it'd be so great to see him let a killer go, even if you didn't agree that it was right -- maybe especially if audiences didn't agree it was the right thing to do. idk

anyway I love the Columbo resurgence. I was lucky to see a bunch of episodes in reruns as a kid when my grandparents had satellite TV, so I've been a fan long before he started to get big again on tumblr -- not that it matters or I'm bragging, just giving context to say it's really great to see people watch old stuff and become new fans of it because it's so good

oh yeah, every columbo has its flaws, it's just a matter of personal taste as to which ones are most egregious.

i do think murder by the book is easy to laugh at now as bog-standard and "overrated", but it was truly groundbreaking when it hit TVs. that's really the beauty of it, anyway--columbo needed to start somewhere and establish a formula.

i do agree that the script for it's all in the game being written in the 70s definitely comes through. the episode itself has some 90s cheesiness to it that i don't think it would have had if actually made in the 70s (and i do wish it was), but underneath is a very real and interesting type of story.

i don't think columbo should've let both of them go as i think that'd cross over into going against the heart of his character--he is a "good cop", but no matter how justified they may have been in their act, they've still ended another person's life. the one time he does let a perp go is only because she has a terminal degenerative brain disease and no longer even remembers the murder.

the man isn't judge judy, nor executioner for that matter. he just gathers enough evidence to prove to everyone that you did you what you did

besides which, if lauren staton can afford good lawyers (she can) and provide proof that her ex boyfriend was a two-timing piece of shit who wanted to kill her (she probably can) then she likely wouldn't have ended up serving that much time anyway. i think columbo knew that, too.

more about this and some of the mcgoohan episodes under the cut since this post is already so long....

i'm not sure where i'd rank it, myself. probably not top 10 all time columbos, but i would certainly rank it amongst the originals simply because it dares to push columbo's character in a way that's high quality, believable, and fun to watch, all while retaining his aura of mystery.

it makes me wonder how that episode would've come out if patrick mcgoohan had directed it. i don't always agree with mcgoohan's interpretations of columbo's character, but he dared to innovate and dared to usher the character into new territory with high-quality technique, and i think that alone is commendable. even last salute to the commodore where columbo is clearly stoned is a commendable entry because it's (at least in my eyes) not a failure of an episode, it's a sharp self-parody of the series as a whole.

take by dawn's early light. we're shown his quarters, which is groundbreaking stuff. hell, link & levinson balked at showing columbo's office in earlier seasons, let alone where he's retiring for the evening.

we may have inferred that columbo would be driven so mad by a case detail that he'd get out of bed in the middle of the night, but we actually get to SEE that here. we get to see him padding around in an undershirt at 3am, kept awake by ballistic detail, then waking up in the morning and washing up. it's not earth-shattering, but it's one of many meaningful peeks into the character's workings hallmarked by the mcgoohan episodes.

plus, i mean. need i say more

in identity crisis, where mcgoohan directs and exerts far greater control over the story, we get to see columbo made really uncomfortable in one of the most masterfully-done cat-and-mouse bouts in the series. agent brenner reads him front to back (NERVOUS? want a CIGAR to CALM DOWN huh lieutenant?? lemme mock you with your wife's favorite song while i take off your protective carapace)

so it makes me wonder how he would've tackled it's all in the game! combined with faye dunaway, i think it would've really elevated things even further. though they were both divas so perhaps the whole thing would've just imploded lmao

[allegra-writes]

“The Devil all the time”

Hunter!Tom x Demon!Reader

Supernatural AU

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

"Break the silence, damn the dark

Damn the light..."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

Forget everything you thought you knew, you had every reason to be afraid of the dark when you were a kid. In this world where monsters are real, the Holland brothers hunt them so normal people can continue to live in the bliss of ignorance.

But when something goes terribly wrong, Tom will do anything to save his brother's life, including selling his soul to the devil. Well... Not exactly the devil, but close enough.

You don't need to watch Supernatural to read this AU

MY MASTERLIST

He knew it was you, even before turning. He knew it as soon as he heard your deceptively delicate footsteps break the supernatural silence that had fallen over the forest the moment he had buried the little metal box in the old crossroad. Tom didn't want to think about what it meant, having such an intimate knowledge of you to be able to recognize you by the cadence of your steps, being so in sync with you that he could tell whenever you were in the vicinity. 

So he used his favorite deflection technique whenever it came to you.

"Y/n? What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Sorry, did I say nice girl? I meant evil skank"

The insult didn't phase you. None ever did. It was hard to take them seriously when you knew how many nights he fell asleep with your name on his lips, after pathetically releasing himself into his own hand, or fucking his boring girl-next-door girlfriend, chasing orgasm over unsatisfactory orgasm that would never completely satiate him. Because it wasn't your face the one contorted in pleasure looking up at him from the mattress.

"You called. I came" You batted your lashes, sweetly. "I always come when you call…" 

He gulped, the innuendo not lost to his ears. It threw him off guard, like it always did. 

"I would have thought this would be… beneath you" Tom cleared his throat, looking away, trying to regain his footing, "collecting a deal, like a vulgar crossroad demon"

There was nothing vulgar about the soul of a Holland. But he didn't need to know that, so you just shrugged,

"Queen Rowena has an interest in you boys. She finds you entertaining. I'm just being a good subdit" 

He scoffed,

"Funny. I would have never peg you for a sub"

You took a step closer to him.

"You don't have what it takes to make me submit, Holland" Your hot breath fanned over his skin, setting his skin on fire. Making his blood boil. You had a way of doing that, of bringing out the worst in him. Of making him lose control. And you thoroughly enjoyed it, poking at the bear until the claws came out, laughing at the carnage.

Another step, and you could physically feel it: The hate, radiating from his every pore, his mind screaming with it. He hated you. He hated your kind. He hated your beauty. He hated the pretty white dress you were wearing, so pure and innocent, glowing like a beacon in the dark. A lure, guiding uncountable men before him into perdition. 

But above all else, he hated that, even then, he couldn't help but to want you. Fervently. Desperately. Irreversibly. 

"I came here to make a deal" He croaked, cursing himself internally for showing weakness. 

"Let's negotiate, then," you replied, stepping away, mercifully letting him breath. 

"My brother-"

"I know" You interrupted, sounding bored already, "Reapers everywhere are going berserk. Who, oh who, will get to reap the soul of a Holland?" 

The wind picked up, making your long dress billow around your legs. You twirled a little, admiring the way it moved. Tom's eyes were glued to you, almost hypnotized. Partly because you were too dangerous to be left unsupervised even for a second, partly because you looked beautiful like that. It had never been more obvious to him that you were an unearthly creature, you didn't belong to this world. There, surrounded by greenery, barefoot, swaying softly under the twilight light, he wondered how could anybody ever mistake you for a human.

"Of course" your apathetic voice took him out of his revery, "being reapers, watching them go wild is rather boring. I swear they are the most uninteresting beings of all creation" 

That made him see red.

"Boring? Boring?!" He knew his voice was rising with every word but he just couldn't help it, "They're waiting for my little brother to die!!"

"Which could happen any minute now," You reminded him, all playfulness gone from your demeanor, "so if you wanna strike a deal, I suggest you start making me an offer worth my time"  

He was taken aback by that.

"I- My soul in exchange of a wish, and you collect it in ten years" He tried and failed not to think about what that implied: vicious, invisible hounds of hell tearing apart his body and dragging his soul to hell, "Isn't that the usual deal?"

You scoffed,

"After all the things you did in your life, what makes you think your soul doesn't belong in hell already? And if your brother dies, that is one less Holland on earth to worry about. You and your brothers have managed to become a big pain in the ass for us…"

He pulled out a knife, a strange one, with runes in the blade. You arched a brow in recognition

"The Winchesters' knife. Are you threatening me, little hunter?" 

Your lack of reaction was another blow. He had hoped you'd be more impressed than that. Nonetheless he turned it in his hands, offering you the handle.

"I'm throwing it into the deal" 

To his surprise, you didn't immediately take it from his hands, choosing instead to pace the clearing, deep in thought. 

The truth was you couldn't care less about the knife, it wasn't more dangerous to you than a toothpick. And while it was true it could certainly damage your queen, she had a far better weapon to protect herself: You.

But it did confirm your suspicions about the Hollands having access to the old Winchester arsenal, which meant they had access to something way more dangerous than that rustic weapon made of steel and bone. A book, made of ancient dark magic and human skin, written in blood. A book that was precious to queen Rowena and by extension to you: the Book of the Damned. 

The Hollands were a family of extremely talented, yes, but old fashioned hunters. The stab first, ask questions later kind. They probably had no idea what they had in their hands… but you did. 

"Very well then," you finally declared, "this is my offer: Your soul and that knife in exchange for sweet Harry's life and one year for you to get all your businesses in order" 

Tom felt all the blood drain from his face. One year. Just 365 more days to live, before an eternity of torture in hell. 

"O-one year?" He breathed.

"One year" You confirmed, "More than enough time to go see the Grand Canyon, eat the world's spiciest burger or whatever you have on your bucket list" 

The disdain in your words only made him hate you harder.

"Not nearly enough to live" He replied through clenched teeth. You rolled your eyes, 

"You're a hunter. You lead short, violent existences, charging head first towards what most humans run away from. Things faster, stronger, more powerful than you, surviving each encounter out of sheer luck. Killing one monster after another, until that luck runs out. Because the monsters? Unlike you who rely on it everyday, they just need. One. Single. Lucky. Strike." You punctuated every word with one step in his direction, until you were face to face again. Until, for the first time ever, you could see the fear, the desperating hopelessness he kept hidden inside, reflected on the warm coffee of his eyes. You knew a lesser man would be already crying and begging for Mercy.

Tom wasn't like other men though, that was the whole point. 

"Or…" You soften your tone and your stance, letting your fingers ghost over the back of his hand, his whole skin erupting in goosebumps. That was the very first time you touched him. Ever. 

And it was as if nobody had ever touched him before, the light caress enough to set every nerve ending, every single one of his cells, alight.

He was so distracted by the sensation and his body's response to it, he almost didn't hear your next words over the sound of his own pounding heart. 

"Or you could keep your little pocket knife, and even have your ten years if…"

"If?" He struggled to focus.

"You let me borrow a book"

His brows furrowed in confusion,

"A book? What book?"

"Any book of my liking, for as long as I want" You shrugged it off, "Do we have a deal?"

There was a catch there, it was obvious. He knew he was going to regret it but, what choice did he have? 

"Deal"

Your smile was blinding, luminous. If he didn't know any better, he would have called it angelical. Now, that was one ridiculous thought.

"What now? We seal it with a kiss?" His eyes fell to your lips, so soft looking and inviting. He wasn't eager to put his mouth on a filthy demon and doom himself. He wasn't. 

You chuckled, but there was no humor behind it.

"Oh no, darling. This is big. This is special" You're special, "A simple kiss just won't cut it…"

No. You couldn't mean… could you? Was there no limits to your hatred for him? Did you really want him so defeated, so humiliated? 

"What do you want?" He spat through gritted teeth.

"The same thing you want" You put your hands on his chest, rising to your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "The same thing you have wanted ever since we first met . The thing that's obsessing you..."

"I don't know what you're talking about"

You smirked,

"You can lie to your family, you can even lie to yourself, little hunter... But you can't lie to me." 

He couldn't hide, you could see every fantasy, hear every single one of his thoughts of you on repeat, like a prayer in your direction. Just like he couldn't hide the way his skin was burning now for you, the way his blood rushed south, the way all logical thought left his brain, his iron grip on his emotions finally breaking as he snapped. 

Lightning fast, in just a blink, he twirled you around, your back hitting the rough bark of a tree, as he towered over you, demon blade to your throat, every inch of his body pressed against yours. His eyes were ablazed with rage, and passion, as he surged forward, striking you with his best hit.

He kissed you. 

Lips vicious against yours, teeth biting and scraping only to soothe the offense seconds later with his tongue, until he was dizzy, light headed with the lack of oxygen and the taste of you. The hand not holding the knife to your neck fell to your breast, squeezing the pliant flesh with enough force to cause pain on a human woman, merely making you moan. He swallowed the sound, letting his fingers trace your waist, your hips, clawing at your dress until he finally, finally, felt skin under his fingertips. 

It was better than anything his mind had conjured in his feverish fantasies in the dead of the night. The skin of your inner thighs velvety soft, as they parted under his touch, the sweetest sounds leaving your lips as his fingers found your naked core. You weren't wearing any underwear, probably never had. The realization that, in all your past encounters and fights you had been standing there, just feet away from him with nothing under that damn dress hit him like a truck, making his head swim. 

He searched between your folds, and suddenly his fingers were inside you. He was inside you, a part of him was buried deep within you, within your silky heat, claiming you as his, if only for the night. 

And you were so wet for him, and only getting wetter as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, scissoring them, opening you up until he was able to slip a third one in, fucking you with his hand in earnest. You were sobbing, clutching at his biceps, head thrown back in pleasure. He took advantage of that to suck bruises on your neck, only to see them fade before his eyes. Your skin tasted clean, smelled like wild flowers and rain. Ozone. Lightning. Like those coursing through his veins with every cry, every delicious gasp you made. 

He found the perfect spot inside you, the one that sent sparks through your nerves with every stroke of his calloused fingers. 

"This what you wanted?" To make him lose it? Lose his mind, himself, in you? "For me to make you come on just my fingers, like the little slut you are?"

The floor disappeared from under his feet as you sent him flying away from you, a searing pain exploding at the back of his head as he landed, sprawled at the feet of an old, dying oak. With blurry eyes, he saw you stalk towards him, all power and cold, controlled fury. 

"Let's get one thing straight, Holland. I'm not one of your sluts" You sneered, "and I'm definitely not your basic bitch of a girlfriend. So you better start showing me a little respect, are we clear?"

He gulped, sitting up. He had to be seriously fucked up in the head, for his cock to be twitching inside his pants at your threatening tone.

"Crystal" 

"Good" You declared, coming to a stop right in front of him, standing between his parted legs, "Now, let's put that mouth of yours to a better use"

He knew that image was going to be forever tattooed on his brain: You standing in front of him, holding the skirt of your dress up, waiting for him to put his mouth on you. Tom took a moment to admire you, before delving in, flattening his tongue over your slit, before drawing tight, precise circles on your clit with the tip. God, you tasted so divine it was messing with his head; something as dark and corrupted and twisted as you, feeling so exquisite, so perfect, so heavenly to his every sense. 

He helped you hook your knee over his shoulder, his other arm snaking around your leg, pulling you even closer. You could feel his smirk against your cunt the moment he realized your legs were shaking, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not with his wicked talented mouth devouring you like a last meal, rocking your whole world, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids.

You always knew that man would make the stars fall. 

Tom kept on, penetrating you with his tongue as far as it would go, his whole face moving against you. The slight burn of his scruff felt delicious against your delicate labia, as he used his fingers to open you up like a flower, separating your petals to get to the delectable nectar inside. You were close, he could feel it, the obscene sounds you were making, the waves of sweetness falling on his lips feeding his ego, filling him up with pride. By the time the night was over, you'd be unable to forget him. He would make sure of that. He would make you come, over and over, until the only thoughts left in your brain were of him, the only word your lips knew how to speak was his name. He would mark you, like a bloodstain, like you had done to him. 

Almost there, he almost had you. Your muscles were locking, your walls starting to tremble, when a loud crack resonated over his head, and you stepped away on unstable legs, breathing hard. You didn't even need to breathe, it was just his effect on you. He made you feel human. And it was both exhilarating, and terrifying. 

You took another step back, but he took hold of your ankle, tugging hard enough to make you fall on his lap, white skirt covering the place where his hands were fumbling with his zip, with his boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

"Fuck!" He cursed, as you sank on his rock hard cock, not giving him any time to get used to the feeling of you around him, before starting to move. 

"How does it feel" You taunted, "fucking a monster? Is it as good as you dreamed of?"

Better. You felt even better. Tom hadn't thought it was possible, but he loathed you even more for it. 

"Shut up" He growled. 

You leaned forwards, breath hot against his ear,

"Cause you feel amazing, Tom. Your cock feels like heaven" 

His hand tangled in your hair, keeping you in place as he crashed his mouth to yours again, the other fumbling for the buttons at the back of your dress, tugging and pulling, tearing at the fabric, in his haste to feel more. More of your skin against his, more of the body that had been his hyper fixation for far too long. 

You sat up, still grinding on his cock, letting the tattered dress fall to your waist, watching in satisfaction as his eyes went wide, zeroing on the way your breasts bounced in sync with your hips. 

Reaching up, for a glorious second Tom could feel one perfect pebbled nipple against his palm, the roundness, the weight of your soft flesh on his fingers; before an invisible force pinned his hands to his sides. 

You tsked.

"Still don't get it, do you little hunter? This?" You let yourself fall all the way down his thick cock, hard, tearing twin moans from his mouth and yours, "This isn't about you. This is about me." 

Leaning back, you braced yourself on his strong thighs, changing the angle, changing your movements to a slower rocking against his pelvis. The friction against your clit was perfect, the feeling of his big, throbbing dick so deep inside you, stretching you like no one before, sending electrical pulses through your spine. It was decadent. It was ecstasy.

It was torture. Underneath you, Tom was sobbing, eyes bright with unshed tears, fighting in vain against his bonds. He needed it faster, harder, anything to help tilt him over the edge you were keeping him on, your sweet cunt too tight, too good around him to allow his cock to soften, your rhythm too leisured to let the tensed, strained coil inside him to snap. You were uncaring, using him remorselessly to get yourself off, your little moans getting higher in pitch the closer you came to your climax. Tom felt himself getting higher just by looking at your beautiful pleasure ridden face. You cried out, and suddenly it was happening, you were coming, pulsating around his cock, falling apart on top of him.

And the ground beneath him quaked. The sky above his head bled, the blue twilight torn open by lightning, and thunder, despite the fact that there wasn't a single cloud marring its diaphaneity. You fell forwards, hand braced on the tree, next to his face, ridding the aftershocks of your orgasm until the end. 

"No!" Tom cried when, after a few seconds of catching your breath, you dismounted him, letting his dick slip out of you. 

You arched a brow,

"Something you want, Tommy?" 

He locked his mouth shut, gritting his teeth. You smiled, amused, knuckles stroking his still iron hard cock.

"Do you need more, little hunter?" You enveloped him in your hand, moving it up and down his member, watching the head disappear under his foreskin, "Do you need to come?"

He banged the back of his head against the bark.

"Yes!" He finally admitted, "So badly…"

"Then beg" You commanded, stilling your hand. He snapped open the eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Oh, if looks could kill…

"Never" He hissed, livid.

"Very well, then" You picked up your pace, pumping him fast, your grip almost too rough. He gasped for air, feeling the telltale tightening of his balls, the coil inside just about to break under the tension. But you must have felt it too, cause your hand let go of him altogether. Too late, he understood what you were doing.

One beat. And then another, and he was coming all over his t-shirt, orgasm completely ruined. 

He cursed, tears escaping through the corner of his eyes, fingers digging into the moist ground under his hands. You chuckled, cruelly, standing up and stepping out of your shredded dress. He could have ganked you with the demon blade in that moment, he really could have, except his hands were still pinned by an invisible force at his sides. 

"Let me go, you bitch," Tom growled, tossing, fighting against his restraints to no avail, "aren't you done?!"

"Not quite." You smiled, mockingly sweet, "Just one more thing before I leave. Don't worry, it will only hurt for a minute…"

He renewed his efforts to escape, as you bended over, reaching for his chest, white hot pain burning through his ribs. He almost cried out, but what he saw stole the voice from his throat, turned his blood into ice inside his veins, leaving him shaking, jaw slack and mouth open in a soundless scream: 

You, naked and gorgeous and terrible. Transfixed, eyes glowing with a supernatural indigo light, the shadow of two massive, bended, broken wings projected on the trees behind you.

Not a demon, he thought. You're not a demon.

You smiled, and it was terrifying.

"No. I'm the thing demons have nightmares about" You replied out loud to the words he had only said in his mind, "And now, little hunter, you belong to me. Mind, body and soul"

[peerless-soshi]

Hello from ao3!!! There's so many prompts and I can't decide what to choose haha I feel that your last chapt left me thirsty so maybe fengqing and 75/92???? And if you don't like writing this kind of stuff maybe xuexiao and 40/96? I'm so happy that you're still accepting those requests :) And good luck with your long stories!

Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.  

XueXiao: Almost kiss +Scars 

A/N: Yes, I'm coming back to life after the long break (caused mostly by my new job). Although I have less time now, I'm really determined to go back to writing and post more frequently. Big thanks to Anon who was waiting... months... for this chapter :)

Trigger warnings: Xue Yang being a killer and a creep (he was), some disturbing imagination, death mentions

Xue Yang tiled the window. Yi City broke in; fresh wafts of morning flowed through the coffin house, dust piles falling from the windowsill and flitting in the somber daylight, then fading. Xue Yang forced himself to draw a breath. Finally. The air reeked of wet that was neither dew nor rain, but it felt clean, and swept away the stinky dead smell skulking in the corners. Xiao Xingcheng liked the coffin house to be tidy, even if taking care of it was an idle job, so Xue Yang decided to grab a cloth and dust a little more before daozhang’s waking up.

Really, he wasn’t good at this – at playing house, playing nice – but he followed Xiao Xingcheng’s advises like a good guy. A good listener, and a better liar. You raise early, prepare water to wash your face, then put on clothes and smiles, take a knife – to chop meat in dices, just like Little Blindy liked. Xue Yang lived a quiet life, a fox holed up in his burrow, but he couldn’t complain. His patience was sharpening claws, curled up in the winter sleep. And it was getting hungry.

Leaving the window wide open to let the air in, Xue Yang leaned against the frame to rest. There was no sound but the wind. Then his eyes narrowed: he could barely see the buildings, the mist like a curtain over them. Recently, it was becoming thicker and whiter, he noticed, as if snow fell in blinding flakes, swallowing Yi City whole. Xue Yang could almost imagine them catching in his eyelashes, blinding him. Why? The mist was everywhere, the cold was unbearable, and he was in the middle of it. A cold chill run through his spine; Xue Yang blinked, shivered, and stepped away from the window. It should’ve been warm, spring was almost there, but no, it was cold. Too cold. The fox slept for too long, the winter was so close. Goose-flesh covered his still bare arms and his fingers, hidden in glovers and now cracked with cold, clenched on his wrists.

Waiting made him uneasy: he was waiting for warm, waiting for revenge, waiting all the time, waiting for Xiao Xingcheng, waiting…

Suddenly, someone shifted behind him.

"Who?” Xue Yang glanced back with some caution, but his face revealed nothing. The next moment, his heartbeat slowed down. “Daozhang. Did I wake you up?”

Xiao Xingchen slowly rose, sitting straight in the provisional bed made out of the coffin. His blindfold was awry in a morning disarray. “Don’t worry about it.” A smile. “It’s morning already?” A laugh.

A life.

Xue Yang remained silent. He was struck by how white Xiao Xingcheng looked in the morning: pale like rice paper, as easy to rip up, with just a few soft strokes of black hair and a thin line of a smile. His skin seemed to glow against the dark coffin wood and it was nothing like snow. More like a painting. Drop by drop, the snow melted and gave way to the warmth of Xiao Xingcheng’s voice.

“Hello?” he said,“What is going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What time is it?” Xiao Xingcheng repeated.

“Quite early.” Xue Yang finally said. He tried for a normal tone, a careless tone, not sure if it worked. “Sorry for the noise, daozhang, I only wanted to air the room. The hinges squeak, we should get new ones. Maybe we’ll go to the town later?”  

Xiao Xingcheng nodded but said nothing, then turned his non-existing eyes to Xue Yang. “Is everything all right, my friend?

“Of course,” he replied fast. Too fast? Clearing his throat, he realized how stiff he was. “Why does daozhang ask?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“It’s quiet outside,” Xiao Xingcheng said.“Nobody’s there?”

Xue Yang shrugged, then remembering that daozhang couldn’t see it added, “Maybe they’re afraid after that fierce corpses’ attacks. Who can understand stupid villagers…? Uneducated villagers,” he corrected himself. “They have their own superstitions, I won’t keep up with them.”

The whole city lived on things that Xiao Xingcheng didn’t know. But maybe he didn’t want to know. And fine, him and Xue Yang could be alone, and feared. It’s much better to be hated for what you are than loved for what’re not, Xue Yang lied to himself.

Xiao Xingcheng seemed to look at him through the bandage. “Where is A-Qing? She’s not there?”

“I don’t know,” Xue Yang whispered. “I think she’s playing with the boys again. So ungraceful. But everything’s fine. Can’t you see it, daozhang?” he asked. A little of the laughter rang in his breath. “Stupid question. I guess you can’t.”

As he grinned roguishly, he was rewarded by a gale of laugh. “You devilish friend.” Xiao Xingcheng gave him a face of good-natured scorn, checking the blindfold. “One day I’ll have enough of your jokes, so watch out.”

“Perhaps, but today is not that day.”

With a quick flick, Xue Yang closed the window and turned again to Xiao Xingcheng. Gray light deepened to darkness. He reached for a candle; the fire grew up on the cusp of wax and the air warmed, and became dense. Outside the cold was rising; inside the scent of death, sickening and old, wrapped around Xue Yang like a balm. He walked to Xiao Xingcheng, black shadows on all sides. 

“It’s still early. Go back to sleep.” His quiet voice dropped lower and his smile drained out of it like wine from a bottle. “You don't have to worry, daozhang. I'll take care of it, you just rest.”

But Xiao Xingcheng would not listen. He raised his head, higher, thinking about something Xue Yang couldn’t see. At least he stood up, letting his long sleeves to flutter like wings.

“Daozhang!”

“I don’t like it. Stay here, please,” Xiao Xingcheng said, more gently then he should. “Something must have happened in the city. I’ll go and check.”

“Stop it.You stay here, I’ll go and see if everything’s fine.”

“Thank you, my friend, but are you able to do it?” Xiao Xingcheng whispered a question. “Those villagers are counting on me, I can’t leave them alone.”And he read the answer in Xue Yang’s trembling hands. “You wouldn’t go, but it doesn’t matter. This is why I need to. Take care of yourself.”

The sudden realization stabbed, sharp. Xiao Xingcheng would never have come back if he had left now. He’d never have come back to Xue Yang if he had heard stories of fierce corpses… and if he had seen the truth… or half-the-truth… or Song Lan… and if…

Noticing that Xiao Xingcheng was holding his hand, Xue Yang pushed him, but almost immediately grabbed his arm and forcibly seat him in the coffin. He didn’t understand it, but daozhang’s voice sounded different than it did before. Somebody had lit a flame between sentences, started a fire. All of sudden, a smell of thousand dead bodies enveloped the room. It was strong. How many people had died here? The candle flame quivered, and Xue Yang’s heart became heavy. His grip strengthened.

“Just sleep, daozhang,” he said, his lips by Xiao Xingcheng’s ear. “Why won’t you sleep? I don’t want you to go.”

“Didn’t you ask me to wake up?” he replied. “What are you going to do now?”

Xue Yang stopped. He felt stupid. He wanted to tell Xiao Xingcheng to be silent, but instead he thought “stay”. Xue Yang craved Xiao Xingcheng to stay; to lie, to fill him with words and never speak again. To be here, and to die, but not really, just a little. He could do it, have Xiao Xingcheng all to himself.

Xue Yang’s body was very close to his now, almost too close, and his hands weren’t gentle, weren’t careful. Xue Yang was still holding Xiao Xingcheng and before he knew, he used all his strength to push him down. The wood under them cracked. This picture – Xiao Xingcheng sleeping in the coffin, cladded from head to toe in washed white like in a funeral robe – it seemed familiar, and Xue Yang knew it was wrong. In another world, he would relive the scene again and again and again: laying daozhang down, washing his face, brushing his hair. The air reeked of wet that was neither dew nor rain. It wasn’t water, it was blood. But the picture turned watercolor hazy, the borders blurred. Maybe Yi City has really made him blind?

It wasn’t time for this. Not now. Xue Yang released Xiao Xingcheng’s shoulders and moved to his hair, then neck, to the soft skin he was still afraid to explore. The light of the candle painted strange patterns on Xiao Xingcheng’s face – he was the work of art, white paper instead of white mist. Xue Yang’s breathing, close to daozhang’s ear, was strangely irregular. He smiled at that. This breathing was out of rhythm, strained, as if he was holding something back, something violent. What a lovely feeling it was.

And then, there was something like a click. Like a flash of light. Xue Yang’s lips were so close to his that he brushed them while speaking. “I just want you to belong to me.”

Somewhere in his head a tiny voice said, what are you doing? Get hold of yourself. Xue Yang ignored that voice, but before they locked in a kiss, daozhang stopped him.

“No, Xue Yang. You can’t do that,” he said, his voice veiled in a quiet reprimand.

“Why?” Xue Yang’s fingers once again tightened on the edges of the coffin. “Can you stop me? Can you forbid me? Can you push me away? I’ll tell you: you are not strong enough to take care of yourself, Xiao Xingcheng, and you’re dreaming of giving orders to me?”

He bent down again, tried to swallow. For a moment, each breathed the other’s breath. But the instant was over and Xue Yang realized he didn’t have a taste of daozhang’s breathing: there were no leaves and trees and no cold frost on his tongue. There was nothing. Because daozhang wasn’t breathing.

A line like spider-silk showed between Xiao Xingcheng’s brows. “I’m not the one who’s dreaming.” He shook his head slowly. “You should wake up, Xue Yang. I’m dead.”

Yes, his mind yelled, That’s right.

“No,” his lips whispered. “It's not true!”

Xiao Xingcheng was talking to him again, as if from behind a wall, words Xue Yang didn’t grasp the meaning of. He just stepped away, tripping over his own feet, and falling. That was the moment he knew, there is no going back. Everything had been lost. Xue Yang was nothing but a bundle of stupid, helpless despair, kneeling on the floor of the empty coffin house like in an absurd prayer. Everything had happened so quickly, much too quickly. He had no control. And he remembered, of course.

“Xiao Xingcheng! Xiao Xingcheng!” Xue Yang called, reaching for the hands that were too cold. “Come back, Xiao Xingcheng! Can you hear me? XIAO XINGCHENG!”

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Did it have to be like that? It didn’t. It should. Those thoughts were weighing on his mind.

Xue Yang wasn’t sure how long he’d been cowering on the floor. A long time. He heard the wailing wind again. Apart of that, he heard nothing. There was nobody in the coffin house. He was alone. No Xiao Xingcheng’s voice. Just himself… and the memory of what had happened.

When Xue Yang lifted his head, everything was almost dark. The candle burned out. But even now, his eyes fell on the long scar crossing Xiao Xingcheng’s neck – deep, irregular, and buried under the clean bandages. He had exposed it earlier, as he had been running his hand through Xiao Xingcheng’s hair. Once again, he was struck by how white Xiao Xingcheng looked: pale like a corpse, and nothing like snow.  

Of course.

Finally, he got up and walked over to the coffin. This time, he ignored the lips and kissed only the ugly, ugly scar.

 I am no longer here.

However, the body lying in the wooden coffin was the greatest evidence that Xiao Xingcheng was lying. Oh no, he was still there. Xue Yang grabbed a cloth to dust a little more before daozhang’s waking up. Xiao Xingcheng liked the coffin house to be tidy, even if taking care of it was an idle job.

[cerealischewy]

damien facts/trivia!

(because he's a big cry baby and deserves love.)

@ravengirl122 come and get it lmao

-

1. this man is VERY big.

(very big. sakkaku you are one lucky-ass man)

he has 3 forms, but he's normally in his "smaller" shape so that he's actually able to like, maneuver around without being uncomfortable/cramped. if you're wondering-- well, actually, let me just list them.

house cat/feral cat:

y'know, cat sized. in this form he loses his shark and spider-like details and is just like any other, regular cat.

if you're wondering what breed, he's just a plain black cat with wide, green eyes.

nothing very special, but this is probably the only time he's able to be picked up/jump on people.

smaller form:

same details and body features as his larger form, but he's missing the fins on his back.

he is able to walk around more freely, open things with his claws(hands?), and able to basically do anything else a human could.

his height comes to a grand, ballistic 9'2" ft. he also weighs around .. uh, let's go with 200-pounds-ish. he can touch the roof and reach things on high shelves with ease.

bigger form:

again, same details, but bigger.

like, WAY BIGGER.

unfortunately, he is not able to fit in a house and do human-ish activities, he is simply too--.. big. i'm sorry, buddy.

if he wants to swim (big), he has to relocate somewhere in the ocean. or, just a really big lake, i guess. but he prefers salt water.

he is at a height of 47'3", but will eventually grow to be around 60'5" if he gets lucky. he weighs over 10,000 lbs.

-

2. his lungs suck.

(peepee)

you heard it right, folks.

his lungs are complete and utter shit.

so, of course he has trouble breathing.

talking for a long time and not taking in the air (check the bottom for more information, please) he needs will--.. well, eventually cause him to grow weary and have a small .. erm, "cough attack".

as innocent as they might sound/seem, they are not.

in fact, they can become deadly if not treated well/taken care of. how might you "treat" his "coughing fits", you ask? well, let's see here.

first, forcefully grab ahold of his claws(hands?) and press them against his heart, chest, or where his lungs are located-- it's your choice, honestly.

next, spontaneously repeat the word "breathe"-- you can also use the phrase "please", but make sure to talk s l o w l y and calmly. hearing the same word/sound eases damien's mind and allows him to regain consciousness.

if you sound stressed or angered, it will make the situation 10x worse.

also, no loud noises during this procedure, they upset damien and cause him to go absolute batshit.

LET ME REMIND YOU, HIS COUGHING ATTACKS DO NOT HAPPEN JUST BECAUSE HE HAS TROUBLE TAKING IN AIR.

PANIC ATTACKS, BEING UPSET, OR BEING STRESSED WILL ALSO CAUSE HIM TO VIOLENTLY BREAK OUT.

-

3. get nae naed damien.

(this whole thing is about him in his "killer" state, if this bores you, read ahead.)

let's start off with questions -

"but why does he have the sudden urge to eat somebody when he's in his satanic mode?"

or

"how does this happen? is there a specific reason why?"

--.. you might ask? well, it's simply because he has no control over his body in that state.

his brain suddenly gets a mind of it's own and basically does anything it wants.

his brain doesn't give two shits about how he feels or his emotions. so, he gives in and can't really do anything about it.

anyways, his "ballistic" functions are triggered by taste, sense, and hearing. pretty simple, right? yeah. but there are other causes, too.

maybe uh, he lost a close person to him, possibly his love interest oorrr .. a very close friend. that'll also trigger him-ish.

ALSO, blood. blood is a BIG trigger. never bleed around damien, please.

-

that's all i'm done lmao i've kept this in my drafts for long enoufgh @ravengirl122 @ravengirl122

[kain-umah]

Analysis about HENRY BOWERS/PATRICK HOCKSTETTER in IT by STEPHEN KING

Introduction: I want to do an analysis about Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter since long time. I will be focus on the source material, so the masterpiece of Stephen King. I will give lines for each global ideas. I want to work on the madness they both shared but in different states. Henry and Patrick are so different and alike at the same time and I want to underline this fact. First, there is  a french psychiatrist concept of «Folie à deux» it means «Madness of two» or «shared psychosis» and that applies perfectly to them.

PART 1=  FAMILY, FRIENDSHIP, SCHOLARITY.

FAMILY:

→ Henry Bowers born in 1946 , son of Oscar Bowers (Butch) and Mrs Bowers, his mother in law is Rena Davenport.

He killed his father in 1958 when he was 12 years old, under the influence of Pennywise. In 1956, Mrs Bowers ran away from the farm because she was beaten nearly to death by her husband, she left the home without her son. Contrary to Patrick, Henry is more close to his father than his mother, he is in a complex relationship with his father, he loves and hates him at the same time. His father was an ex-marine who fought in the Normandy beach during WW2 (a reference to “Stand by Me” an another novel of Stephen King in which an abusive father is accused of madness but his son is the only one who defends him because he is an hero to him even if his own father burns his ear).

WHEREAS

→ Patrick Hockstetter born in 1946, son of Arthur Hockstetter and Mrs Hockstetter, big brother of Avery Hockstetter.

In 1951, at only 5 years old he killed Avery while her mother was sleeping. His dad a seller of painting, has some doubts about his older son Patrick because of snow footprints in Avery bedroom but he never asks him nor tells his suspicion to his wife. Patrick likes to have the attention of his mother (he occasionaly cooks with her, show her his draws) but doesn’t react to her cries when she saw that her second child stopped breathing because of him. Just like Mrs Denbrough she is totally under the shock at the death of Avery.

So Henry and Patrick shared the murder of a relative but Henry was a beaten child and killed his father mainly because of all the bad treatments and under Pennywise influence. Patrick is the one responsible for the death of his brother and his parents seems to be normal parents, his mother is a devoted catholic who died of a breast Cancer in 1962. The biggest mistake of Mr Hockstetter is to have hide his suspicious about his son, he could have bring Patrick to a psychiatrist to “cure” his solipsist view and his murderous desires (at least try to stop that).

FRIENDSHIP:

→ Henry began to have friends at 6 years old (1952 in the novel) and they all became members of the Bowers Gang.

There are 7 members of the BOWERS GANG just like the Losers Club. 7 is a lucky number in many cultures but the irony of fate is that many of them are tragic figures. Patrick is killed in the Junkyard, Belch and Vic are murdered in the sewers by Pennywise, Henry is accused of all the murders of kids in Derry and is locked in the Jupiner Hill asylum from 1958 to 1985 until Pennywise free him to kill all the adults Losers. Henry meets his death by the hand of Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie implies that all the friends of Henry are dead that summer so perhaps Peter, Steve and Gard are also dead. It’s not clear without putting them in the victims list of Pennywise or perhaps they are not real friends for Henry. They are more like minions to him, especially because Peter is a rich kid who leaves in first along with Moose the ROCK WAR against the Losers Club. They both prefer Belch and Vic and they fear Henry.

-Henry Bowers “Hank” (nickname of Henry Freeman James in 1922 novel by Stephen King)

-Reginald Huggins “Belch” (because of his ability to burps)

-Victor Criss “Vic”

-Patrick Hockstetter “Pat” (only in the 2017 movie by Henry at the kissing bridge)

-Peter Gordon

-Steve Sadler “Moose”

-Gard Jagermeyer

Henry Bowers best friends are Reginald Huggins and Victor Criss.They are always together until the end in the sewers. Henry deeply regrets to have abandon them when he talks with a “ghostly” Belch.

→ Henry is the leader of the Bowers Gang and must be the one who chose Patrick to be part of the gang, Patrick appears after the Rock War and the disappearance of Peter Gordon in the gang. But it could be possible that Patrick knows Henry before and it’s not established if he is a replacement of Peter. Anyways because of the psycho side Patrick must be feared by the other members of the gang. Henry is the only one who doesn’t fear him, the same goes for Patrick who doesn’t fear Henry.

→ Patrick has no friends, his asocial side (solipsist view and psychopathy) puts him aside from society. They fear him, especially the girls in the classroom. Patrick hang with the Bowers Gang to be with Henry Bowers.

SCHOLARITY:

→ Henry and Patrick have repeated classes. Henry isn’t anymore with Victor and Reginald, they are in 6th grade, Henry is in the 7th grade.

→ Patrick might turn in test papers that were utterly blank or blank except for a large, decorative question-mark

→ His report cards showed Patrick as being an apathetic student.

→ In classroom Henry, Belch and Vic are most noticed by Mrs Douglas for their bad behaviour than Patrick.

→ They both have Mrs Douglas teacher and she doesn’t see the how much dangerous and psychothic is Patrick and nor does she see the violence of Oscar «Butch» Bowers against Henry.

VIOLENCE:

Toward animals=

→ Patrick kills insects and animals, he brings them in his school stuffs or in the Amana Fridge in the Junkyard. He sometimes shows dead insects to pupils at school.

→ Henry kills at 8 years old «Mr Chips» Mike Hanlon's dog in order to pleased his father Oscar Bowers «Butch» who hates William Hanlon and always blames him for his failure on the farm.

So about hurting animals Henry does it for his father and Patrick does it for himself BUT at the same time we need to UNDERLINE that Patrick find the Amana fridge the day George Denbrough died so when Pennywise is awake, moreover «perhaps some other force did that», so yes Patrick is a puppet just like all the Derry habitants and that's one of the reason why he is a “victim” of Pennywise.

Toward humans=

( Summer 1958)

→ Henry torments the Losers with several acts of violence, such as partially carving his name onto Ben Hanscom’s belly, killing, breaking Eddie Kaspbrak's arm, and white washing Stan Uris' face in the snow until it bleeds.

→ During Chapter 16 «Eddie's bad break»: Patrick Hockstetter appears for the first real time (before his name was mentionned as one of the missing kids). During this chapter Henry breaks the arm of Eddie, and  Henry and Patrick are the most violent members of the gang and the only ones who don't fear Mr Gedeau, they even face him.

REASONS OF MURDERS:

→ For Patrick killing is a need, his Psychopathology brings him a God complex. There’s irony because he was raised in a catholic family.

→ Henry does it for having his father attention: “he had finally found the key to his father’s attention” “it was the first beer Henry had ever had, and for the rest of his years he would associate that taste with positive emotions: victory and love”. When it’s not for attention it’s for jealousy/vengeance against the Losers Club. But Henry become crazier and crazier through the story, even Victor Criss one of his most loyal friend become worried about his mental state.

VIEW OF THE WORLD:

→ Henry hears voices from the moon because of Pennywise. It's often the dead voices of his cherish friends or the Losers Club who tortures him.

→ Patrick sees a black and white world, he even draws only in dark colors (black and brown) looping scribbles and tell that's different things.  

MADNESS:

THE JUNKYARD HENRY AND PATRICK:

→ Henry doesn't leave the Junkyard when Belch and Vic does. He accepts to be alone with Hockstetter knowing what he is capable of, because he reveals that he knows the dirty secret of Patrick for the Amana fridge.

→ Henry is capable of doing blackmail, if Patrick said something about the handjob in the junkyard he would reveal the truth behind the missing animals.

→ HOMOPHOBIA:

→ Irony of fate: Jupiner Hill for Butch but it's Henry who truely goes there. Henry said to Patrick that he can't go with the loonies so the asylum if they know his secrets but Patrick died before and Hen goes to the asylum.

→ Hockstetter POINT OF VIEWS: Bill Bev Henry Stephen King

IN THE MOVIE (2017 version):

→Pat's lighter must be the Hen's lighter

→ Surname Pat «Just hold him Pat»

→ The red baloon I love Derry

→ Pat is totally fond of Hen during violent acts

→ He goes with Belch to chase Ben Hanscom, and like in the book that's because of Hen orders that he died.

→ Henry is aiming a cat it remind the murder of Mister Chips but also show that Henry could hurt animals just like Patrick.

[themomsandthecity]

"Dancing With the Stars" Alum Sharna Burgess Opens Up About "Intrusive Mom Thoughts"

Image Source: Getty / Alberto E. Rodriguez Australian ballroom dancer Sharna Burgess - best known for her role in "Dancing With the Stars" - is opening up about the unexpected side of motherhood. In a recent post on Instagram, Burgess shared her experience with "intrusive mom thoughts," which initially made her think "something was wrong with my brain." But they are a very "real thing," she said. Burgess explained them as "these super dark thoughts of all the things that could go wrong. All the ways I or life could accidentally hurt my baby. Falling down stairs holding him, sickness, a car accident.. the list is long but I won't share it. If you know you know." View this post on Instagram A post shared by Ｓｈａｒｎａ　Ｂｕｒｇｅｓｓ (@sharnaburgess) Burgess welcomed her son, Zane Walker, earlier this year with partner Brian Austin Green, an American actor known for his roles on shows like "90210" and "Desperate Housewives." "5 months in and I still get [intrusive thoughts] but I have learned to tame them and understand them and most of all.. realized I am not alone. That last one was a huge relief," Burgess continued. The dancer went on to explain why this sort of negative thinking occurs. "I guess it makes sense too, we have this massive responsibility suddenly upon us when we leave that hospital . . . in a diaper.. sleep deprived, emotionally charged but also depleted, trying to piece ourselves back together and let's not forget .. in pain. That new responsibility is filled with so much love, wonder and awe but nobody warns you about the equal amount of fear that now lives within you. It's the most excruciating love you've ever felt and its overwhelming, at least for me it was." According to Harvard Health Publishing, intrusive thoughts often stem from stress or anxiety - even biological or hormonal shifts (like postpartum bodily changes) can trigger strange or disturbing thoughts. Often, intrusive thoughts take the form of troubling images that might include "violent or sexual, or a recurring fear that you'll do something inappropriate or embarrassing," Harvard Health Publishing notes. These thoughts aren't uncommon, as the Anxiety and Depression Association of America estimates that roughly six million Americans are impacted by intrusive thoughts. "I shake it off and call in a memory that I can't wait to make with Zane. All of the firsts that he has coming." However, there are ways to cope. The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) says identifying these thoughts, facing them head-on, managing stress levels, and focusing on healthy sleeping habits can all help with severity. Burgess shared two coping tools she uses, including deep breathing exercises. "1. Deep cleansing breaths taking in as much air as you can and hold as you say 'I release all thoughts that do not serve me' then control that breathe out imagining those words and the feeling they bring leaving you. Repeat repeat 2. When I need a quicker fix I physically swipe my hand in front of my eyes and say 'no' and imagine that image being destroyed and gone. I shake it off and call in a memory that I can't wait to make with Zane. All of the firsts that he has coming," she writes. When it comes to mental health - especially after giving birth - it's important to remember you're not alone. "You're doing great mama, remember that 🤍," Burgess said. https://www.popsugar.com/family/sharna-burgess-intrusive-mom-thoughts-49040011?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[icypantherwrites]

Fundraiser Fic List and Statistics

I would like to thank everyone once more for their support of my friend and special shoutouts and love to the individuals who purchased fanfiction commissions from me  through my fundraiser and helped me raise over $300 that went straight to my friend. Thank you!

I have officially finished all of the purchased fundraiser commissions so thought it’d be fun to do a little by the numbers post along with links to all of the fics. For the record I am now taking fic commissions due to the furthered interest (you guys ♥) and you can find details here if you want to commission your own.

The full fic list will be below the keep reading tab as it got a little long. ^^; All right. Here we go.

Total number of fics: 13

Total number of words written: 95,713

Start date of first published fic: March 11, 2018

Finish date of thirteenth published fic: April 10, 2018

Longest fic: So Much to Offer* (10,361 words)

Shortest fic: Poison (2,876 words)

Lance as main/second main character: 13/13 (yup ;p)

Hunk appearances as main/second main: 5/13

Pidge appearances as main/second main: 2/13

Shiro appearances as main/second main: 1/13**

Keith/Coran/Allura appearances as main/second main: 0/13**

*In the Name of Love is technically the longest but that is because I went and added a second chapter. Commissioned wise it is not the longest one. 

**I give Keith two third spots though for his roles in Smile and The Price of Peace, Coran one third spot for Smile and Shiro one third spot for Passing Grade. Allura sadly got passed over for all of these cept for a small role in The Price of Peace. So sorry, hun. I love you though ♥

Most Popular Fics -- Top Two

(deigned by a combination of hits, comments, kudos and bookmarks)

1. The runaway winner was The Cost of Winning with 2,601 hits, 37 comment threads, 356 kudos and 78 bookmarks. This one featured Lance and Pidge captured and forced to fight in the arena. Lots of platonic Plance and some BAMF moments for both. (it has a sequel too for the aftermath which would appreciate some love ♥!)

2. The runner-up was Sounds of Darkness with 1,841 hits, 32 comment threads, 282 kudos and 70 bookmarks.  More Langst abound featuring sensory deprivation but some soft and warm platonic Shance to make you not want to sob in a corner by the end all while making sure you can hear yourself crying. 

Fics that Need More Love -- Bottom Two

(deigned by a combination of hits, comments, kudos and bookmarks)

There is not enough Hunk love in this fandom. Please. Give my ray of sunshine more of it. He deserves all of the happiness... even if both of these involve him in pain. Whoops.

12. Please know that If the World Should Freeze was one of my favorites because it features the best relationship there is in VLD, platonic Hance ♥ The boys find themselves in an icy wasteland with a happy serving of Hunk!whump. Yesss. Rang in with 517 hits, 19 comment threads, 92 kudos and 14 bookmarks. 

13. The other Hunk!whump fic of Strength of Your Word rounds out the bottom here.This is another adventure between him and Lance involving some less than savory weasel aliens and a jewel that everyone wants to get their paws, er, hands on. Totaled in at 483 hits, 22 comment threads, 86 kudos and 13 bookmarks.

And that rounds out the stat lines! You can find all thirteen fics below to peruse at your leisure. Please do be sure to leave a comment on them if you read and enjoyed; I really appreciate them ♥ Thank you and enjoy!

Tumblr Poll!

Last thing before you head off. These stats were all compiled via AO3 (which has taken over as my main platform) but I’d love to hear from the Tumblr audience for an informal poll rather than data stats. Which fic of the thirteen was your favorite? Feel free to comment below or send it via an ask! If majority was my favorite fic of the set I’ll do a little something ♥

Fic List

Posted in order of publish date, oldest first.

Poison

Summary:  Lance is fine. Or, at least he keeps telling himself that. He’s most definitely not a victim of the unknown disease with no cure sweeping through the city. Nope. But now he’s coughing up blood? Maybe… maybe he isn’t so fine after all. / “H-Hunk,” he whispered. “I… I think I’m s-sick.” Hunk let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Yeah, Lance. You are.“ Alternate universe, Langst

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

The Cost of Winning

This fic will have a sequel follow-up focusing on a recovery arc. Date TBD. Story is complete as is though.

Summary:  “The Blue and Green Paladins serve no purpose to the Empire,“ the Galran commander smirked at his bound captives. “And as such you have no use except as arena fodder.” He chuckled. “Give us a good show before you die.” / Lance is determined to protect Pidge and save her from the arena. She will not die here. Over his dead body. Hopefully it’s not quite that literal of a promise.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

In the Name of Love

Summary: Lance just wanted to buy a flower. Instead he's now the newest victim of a serial killer who has no plans to release him until he has served his purpose. Lance may be a Paladin but he's got a higher calling in life now. And it starts with his death. / "Do not try and resist again," his captor warned, "You will not like the consequences." Lance's voice cracked. "Like being eaten?" 

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

Passing Grade

Summary:  If Lance stayed in the shower long enough maybe the water would wash everything away. Maybe it would make him forget unwanted hands and the scratchy couch. Maybe… A sob tore through his throat. No. There was no forgetting. But he did have to paste on a smile and try to because no one could find out. Otherwise it was all over. AU - College

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.Net

xxx

Faces of Home

Summary: There were murmured, familiar voices when Lance awoke that quieted almost immediately when he blinked open his eyes. “Easy, easy,” someone soothed as he tried to sit up. Someone familiar. Lance gasped. “Mamá?” Because somehow… somehow he was home. / Lance is injured in a fight against the Galra and wakes to find himself in the care of his family. But… how did he wind up back on Earth? Something wasn’t quite right…

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

Sounds of Darkness

Summary: Lance couldn’t see. Or hear. Or move. The silent darkness was all encompassing and it was pressing in; choking him, drowning him, blinding him. He screamed but it was swallowed whole into the void of nothingness. Lance trembled, pain shaking his limbs, and faintly wondered if he’d even made a sound at all.

Read it on: Ao3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

Smile

Summary:  Lance glanced at the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was remembering. Like, the first glance had freaked him out but it really wasn’t that noticeable. He worried his lip in indecision before finally making his way over to the mirror. He had to know. Just… just a peek. Without further ado Lance gave a tentative smile. And despair crashed down once more.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

Nothing to Be Afraid Of

Summary: Hunk will admit it. He’s afraid of many things and being captured by the Galra alongside Lance ranks at the top. But it’s the Galra who should be afraid. After all, they just unleashed a brilliant engineer and a quick-witted sharpshooter in their base. Better watch out. – “Uh, Hunk, what are you doing?” “Making bombs,” Hunk replied cheerfully. “Oh, okay- bombs?” Lance squeaked.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

So Much to Offer

Summary:  “I suppose though I should see what we’re working with, hm?” the slaver mused. “A pretty face is only part of the package after all.” His dark eyes met Lance’s and he shivered at the absolute depravity that stared back at him. “Let’s see what you have to offer.” / While trying to save his dying team, Lance is captured and sold into the slave trade. Time is running out… for everyone.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

If the World Should Freeze

Summary:   "Lance, st-stop," Hunk moaned, stumbling and splattering crimson upon the snow. "I c-can't…" The rest of his words trailed off as dark spots danced in his vision. "No!" Lance dug his hands into Hunk's vest as though that could keep him upright. "Don't you dare. Keep moving!" / Hunk and Lance are stranded in an icy wasteland but the cold is quickly becoming the least of their problems. Because the huge, hungry creature chasing them? Yeah. They're in trouble.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

xxx

The Price of Peace

Summary:  (Sequel to The Cost of Winning) They may have escaped the arena but things back home are far from all right. Keith is struggling. Shiro is hiding. Lance is suffering violent flashbacks and she’s having nightmares too. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. Pidge hates it. She wants her space family back. Not this broken version of them. It looks like she’s just going to have to fix it. And Lance is going to help.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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Strength of Your Word

Summary: “Open his mouth,” Hunk heard the order and Lance’s chokes turned to a low moan. “Let’s make him smile nice and red,” came the hiss. And Hunk? He’s had enough. / Lance saves Hunk. Hunk saves Lance. Rinse and repeat. It’s what they do. So when a simple mission turns deadly these two are going to have each other’s backs. No matter the consequences.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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Disjointed Soul

Summary: Lance falls victim to a Soul Leecher, a dark spirit that is drawn to disjointed souls to steal them for itself. The Paladins must go into Lance’s very soul to save him, uncovering truths about themselves and Lance in the process. Time is of the essence before Lance is lost forever. Good thing they have such helpful soul guides.

—

“Hi there baby Lance,” Hunk greeted.

“Ohwah,” Lance burbled back. “¡Ohwah!”

“Ohwah?” Pidge repeated.

“I think he’s saying ”hola,’“ Hunk grinned. "You know, "hello” in Spanish. Hola, baby Lance.“

”¡Ohwah! ¡Ohwah!“

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

[hillbillyhippiemusicreview]

ALAN "CORDUROY" BROWN "LET ME KNOW" ALL ABOUT HIS MIRACULOUS 2021 AND THE ALBUM IT INSPIRED

The COVID-19 pandemic put undue stress on the music industry that we are just now starting to recover from. It's been a long, dark, and uncertain road for many--but unfortunately for some like musician Alan "Corduroy" Brown, lead singer and guitar player for the Huntington, West Virginia-based band Corduroy Brown, it was a true matter of life or death. In fact, Alan did succumb to the nightmare of COVID-19, just to be reborn with a new spark and outlook on life. Below is a transcribed interview between Hillbilly Hippie Music Review and Alan concerning his band’s upcoming album releasing on August 14th, "Let Me Know," and the personal experiences that influenced its conception.

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

L: Hi, Alan! We’re so glad to have you join us at HHMR today for a chat to get to know ya a little better. How are you doing?

C: Honestly....pretty great! Live music is BACK and it’s so cool to see all my friends creating and showing off their talents again.

L: That’s great to hear—and I think we can all agree with you on that notion! So, a little birdie told me that there is new music on the horizon—but, before we discuss that, I want to touch on the life-altering experience you underwent in 2021 and how that altered your overall outlook on life after your literal rebirth.

C: Someone asked if I was now afraid of dying, but I’m afraid of not living. There are a lot of things you learn in a hospital bed. In February, I thought that I’d be in and out of an urgent care, but ended up on a ventilator, in a helicopter, then put on ECMO life support. Apparently I died some time in that period, so when I got to Morganton, I was actually dead. You know the whole “white light” thing people talk about? It’s completely real. I could write a novel on all of that, but really, I learned that we’ve got a lot to figure out still. Regret hits you heavily. I thought about all the time that I wasted being upset about something/someone , or anytime I’ve been mad about anything. Like, there is a time and a place to be upset, but we have ONE time on this earth to violently pursue our passions and to love each other, while experiencing everything we can.

L: Wow. I can't even fathom what you felt as you rode on that proverbial rollercoaster, but I am SO very happy that you are still with us and sharing your gifts with the world. Speaking of those passions, with your band’s eclectic brand of folk-pop infused indie rock tunes, you’re one of our favorites here at HHMR. We’ve dug the little teaser of your upcoming single with your longtime friend Arlo McKinley and it’s got us stoked for the record release in August! Can you tell us how “Secret War” came about and what that experience was like?

C: This album has a beginning, middle, and end. It fits right in the middle of the whole book. Secret War started as a song of just appreciating everything I have. The first verse says: “I’ve been chillin’ with my head held high, nothing wrong but these untied shoes.” Later on, it turns a bit saying “ lost the battle, war still going.” Arlo comes in on the second verse and layers in the ideas of the battle we are fighting with ourselves all the time. I think we both ended up singing about people who we’ve met in our life that couldn’t handle us at our worst times. It’s a dream to work with Arlo. He’s a genuine human and a loyal friend who was super stoked to be part of this whole thing.

L: Awesome!! As far as the record as a whole, the debut album for Corduroy Brown, is it a concept piece like a story from start to finish, or is it just a collection of some of your favorite songs written from your journey in life? Describe it for us.

C: It’s a story front to back. I included a lot of interludes in between the songs that contain voicemails that people have left me. There’s an interlude where you hear me walking while going to therapy, and the familiar sound of the elevator at the St. James building in Huntington. This album is my life captured from 2017 to now. I finally feel like I got it all off my chest. I honestly feel like I haven’t written my best stuff yet, but this album was necessary to let out everything I’ve let build up for a long time.

L: I love how you've incorporated those moments to create the interludes. Writing is quite cathartic and I imagine releasing your story out into the world like this can be a form of music therapy itself, not only for yourself but for others! In addition to the single with Arlo, are there any other collaborations on the record we can expect to hear?

C: Oh gosh. So many people made this happen. It’s as much mine as it is everyone else's. The album is called Let Me Know because so many people have always said “let me know” if you need anything, or “let me know” what I can do for it. -- Massing, The Dead Frets, from Huntington. A lot of my closest friends like my life mentor and his son are on the album. Jacob from Jewel City Barbershop. The list goes on for awhile, haha.

L: As I always say, "teamwork makes the dreamwork!" That is such a cool concept that you've seamlessly woven into the title and throughout the record, since at times "Let Me Know" seems to just be a cliché that people say. But you and the band have demonstrated how actions *can* match the words! Now, tell me. I've got to know—how did you come up with the name, “Corduroy Brown?” What does it mean to you?

C: Gosh, I can never answer this question. I need someone to figure out a cool story for this. I have no idea.

L: Haha—that's fair! It's a rad name, cool story or not! So for something you can describe, tell me about the music. Since your music is so eclectic and defies the bounds of any one genre, how would YOU describe it?

C: I think technically it’s Rock/Pop/Indie? I don’t know. I grew up listening to Michael Jackson, I love Paramore, and I listen to Miranda Lambert everyday. The sound is all over the place because some of these songs are as old as 2017. You grow up and you change. I think the music captured different parts of my life when these songs were born.

L: "You grow up and you change" is such a true statement. In terms of growing up, I want to backtrack for a moment for readers unfamiliar with you, Alan. Can you tell us a bit about your history and background in music, from childhood to the evolution of your band? Has your heart always been set on being a musician?

C: No one in my family is musical, haha. But in 2008, my mom bought me a Fender CD60 guitar. I wanted to be like the kids who played at school. I stepped into the music scene with a band called The Dividends. Kind of like a RnB/Rock group. We had a really good run, but hung it up in 2019. I think I’ve always wanted this, but now I KNOW that this is what I’m supposed to be doing. Corduroy is composed of some of the A Team of Huntington musicians. We’re good friends first, musicians second. That’s a great combination to make good tunes.

L: I certainly think you are where you're meant to be! Throughout your life, who were your biggest musical influences? Favorite band? Best show you’ve ever seen? Most influential music experience that stands out in your mind? How did all of these sounds and experiences shape you as an artist?

C: I’ve been a complete Paramore fan from their first album. Their “After Laughter” album in 2017 is on constant repeat in my car. I actually listen to a LOT of female artists. Paramore, Lights, Chrvches, Kasey Musgraves. The best show I’ve ever seen was Cage the Elephant. Some of the rowdier songs lean in that direction. The album is kind of all over the place sonically.....it’s not uncommon for a road trip playlist to go from Migos, [to] Chelsea Nolan, to Slipknot.

L: You know, an album always stands out in my mind if it is sonically diverse, giving listeners a true lyrical and musical portraiture of who the artist is. Being a songwriter myself and songwriting nerd, I’m always intrigued by the writer’s process. How did your songs for this project evolve—from conception of the idea to the finished product?

C: I think when I brought these songs to Jeffrey McClelland, I only had a couple finished ideas. They morphed a lot from the start to finish. It’s crazy listening to the original compositions now. Some songs just happen before you even know they’re happening. Some of them take a lot of love. It takes me forever to write songs because I want to make sure I mean every single word and every single note. I’m envious of people like Taylor Swift who can write so many songs from so many different perspectives. It just seems effortless for her.

L: Oh my goodness—same here! Taylor Swift is actually the reason I started writing over a decade ago, because at the time in country music it was so refreshing to have a young female coming into a male-dominated industry breaking down barriers, all the while writing her own stuff and controlling her musicality. Speaking of breaking down barriers, in your community, you’re a well-known activist for topics still clouded with societal stigmas today, such as mental health and LBGTQUIA rights. Why is it so important to you to incorporate these topics into your music and performances?

C: Therapy and medicine saved my life. Everyone should go to therapy whether they think so or not. Logic is so hard to come by when your headspace is burying you. Chemicals affect our thoughts, thoughts affect our actions, actions become habits. We have to get control of that chain of command [and] it’s 2021. It’s hard to imagine that there are still people opposed to LBGTQUIA anything. Life is so short. Love who you love. I can’t imagine being so upset with the way that someone else is happy [and] I will forever be an ally to everyone I can. Huntington’s Pride Fest is in October of this year and you best believe I will be there. Loud and proud.

L: You are such a good human, Alan, and the world is beyond blessed to exist at a time that you do! Love is power, no matter how you look at it. When you think about Let Me Know and the impact it can have on listeners and the music community as a whole, especially in reference to your journey earlier this year, what is the biggest takeaway you hope fans have after digesting the album? What legacy do you want to leave on the world?

C: We get in our own way so many times. Take every chance on yourself. The first person I could call when I got off of life support was my friend Chris (who plays bass in Corduroy) [and] I literally said “WE GET TO RELEASE THIS ALBUM.” I remember when I was doubting even playing music again after the Dividends.

Seriously, do everything. Hold back nothing. Pursue life with a violent passion. Don’t let your final days be filled with regret. Do it all. There’s a lot of fun in this album. Kind of like dancing, but maybe crying at the same time.

L: YES! I've got chills--that is so true, and what I try to make people realize. Our days are limited, so don't be afraid to live your truth out loud. Now for some more lighthearted questions—if you weren’t writing and playing music, what would you be doing with your life?

C: Shewwww. I have no idea! I would love to be a public speaker or a high school teacher maybe? I’ve really considered being a PTA. I love the chance to directly help people, face to face. Extroverted jobs suit me perfectly.

L: You definitely have a genuine smile and charismatic personality that draw folks to you like a moth to a flame, but HHMR is so glad you decided to pursue your passions in music. Are there hidden talents you have? If so what are the most useful, useless, or weird?

C: I’m literally not cool at all really. lol.

L: LIES! You're cooler than the flip side of our pillow, yo. Unfortunately, it's time to draw this lovely chat to a close with the final question. Last but not least, what is your spirit animal?

C: I took an online test real quick before answering this. I got a wolf. I can kind of see some of that with the leadership qualities I have, but I feel like a bear or elephant? Laid back, but also powerful.

L: Hmm....I can vibe with the the bear idea. Easy to love, gives great bear hugs, but will fight for what he cares about....perfect for you, Alan! Thank you so much for joining us today and letting us know all about you.

“Secret War,” the first single with Arlo McKinley will be available July 15th. The full debut album from Corduroy Brown is set to release August 14th. Pre-save the single at the link below:

———————————————————————

*This is an independent article. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated for this interview.

*The opinions expressed are solely that of the author(s).

*These images are not ours, nor do we claim them in any way. They are copyrighted by the artist and photographers.

[ravenvsfox]

Hola! Love your Jerejean prompt-fic. I can't find the list of prompts from which to choose so I'm throwing out random numbers (33 or 61) and asking for Jerejean fic? Please and thank you! Ps. I live for your andreil fic

(thank you so much!! here’s both, just for you) 

33: “Don’t worry about me.” AND 61: “Why didn’t he come and talk to me himself?” 

When Jeremy gets home from grocery shopping, it’s to Laila and Sara having a pseudo-picnic outside the door to his dorm room. They’re cross-legged in pyjamas, talking with their heads close, expressions screwed on too tight for the way they’re eating strawberries from a washed out butter tub. Sara’s got little ice-cream cones on her shorts.

“Oh, finally,” Laila says, pushing gently back from her girlfriend with a hand on her shoulder. “We thought you were buying out the joint.”

Jeremy sets his bags down heavily at his feet, feeling bottles clink and packages scrunch. “Any particular reason you’re waiting up? In the hall?” They exchange a knowing glance and Jeremy makes a tsk-ing sound, folding himself down so they’re sitting in a lopsided triangle. “I don’t like these serious faces.”

“Me neither,” Sara says grimly. “Drastic times call for drastic faces.”

Jeremy roots around in his closest shopping bag, pulling out a bag of craisins and ripping it open. Laila gives him a disappointed look when he offers her the first handful.

“You’re not allowed to get captain-y on me when I tell you what’s up, okay?” Sara says, picking a tentative few cranberries from the bag. Jeremy chews thoughtfully, swallows, and nods.

“So Jean sliced himself open when we were chopping strawberries, because I guess chopping things that weren’t opponents wasn’t considered a necessary skill at Edgar shitting Allan, and the blood sort of— I guess it brought on a panic attack? It was weird because he was sort of catatonic, I don’t know Jeremy, you had to have seen his face—“

Laila holds him down by both shoulders when he makes to get up.

“Did you just leave him in there?” Jeremy demands. “Guys you know he— you know leaving him alone is a bad idea, no matter how much he says he’s fine, he’s not, he’s not fine yet, his therapist says—“

“Okay I know she said no captain talk but that might be better than hysteria,” Laila cuts in, eyebrow tucked together like they get when she doesn’t know what play to do next.

“We’re keeping an eye on him. Or ear, I guess. We knock every 5 minutes. He just… he wanted to be alone, Jeremy, and we’re not like you, it freaks him out if we crowd him.”

He feels his muscles hurt with how much they’ve tensed. He’s still being loosely held down, and he knows logically that bursting in and crowding Jean will get smudgy fingerprints all over whatever progress he’s been making on his own. The thought of him looking at his own blood and wandering back into his memories is enough to make Jeremy’s eyes prick and burn.

“He’s been getting better,” he says quietly. Sara and Laila exchange another glance and Jeremy reaches out to cuff Laila on the arm. “I saw that. Answers, please, now.”

She hums, looking consideringly at the ceiling. “He’s been coming to our place some nights. We’ve got the balcony in our suite and I think it— it’s good for him to see the sky. He knows I’m an insomniac too. Sitting stoically outside is our main bonding activity,” Laila says a little ruefully. Sara reaches out to slide her hand over hers.

Jeremy swallows around his surprise, eyes fixed on the closed door, trying to stop the stain of hurt from setting. “You guys talk?”

“Yeah they gossip like schoolgirls at two fucking am,” Sara says, and Laila pinches her hand.

“I’m making our teammate feel at home, don’t be a bitch.”

“Is he okay?” Jeremy asks quietly. The girls both look helpless for a second, and then Sara slips over to him and tugs him to her so their cheeks are pressed together.

“C’mere you rascal,” she says fondly, scrunching a hand through his hair. “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s scared that he’s using up too much of your time,” Laila says bluntly. “He thinks he’s a ‘charity project that you’re putting too many resources into’.”

“Why didn’t he come talk to me himself?” Jeremy asks, something like cold trickling water itching at his neck. “I would’ve told him it’s nothing like that. Of course it’s nothing like that.” He’s frowning so hard it’s aching in his forehead.

Laila’s eyes flicker over his face, and the feeling is so much like being patted down for secrets at the airport that he looks at his lap, throat full of shame he doesn’t understand.

“What is he if he’s not your charity project?”

Sara makes a sour face but Laila waves her off.

“He’s—“ Jeremy blinks. “He’s a trojan. Part of the team.”

They look at each other, and this time Jeremy can recognize their disappointment.

“Okay buddy,” Sara says, standing up with her hand braced on his shoulder. He feels like he’s sinking into the ground with her weight pinning him. Like he’s slipping straight through to the ground where things are simple and packed together and buried. “Maybe you should have a chat with your roommate. Your trojan. Your not-charity case.”

“He’s not— mine,” Jeremy says, and something rolls over in his chest, uncomfortable.

“Again I say— okay buddy,” Sara says. “You’re exhausting. I can’t believe how obtuse you are. Jean was raised in a hunger games style pain dome and he’s more in touch with his feelings than you.”

“We’re going to bed,” Laila announces, swinging her and Sara’s hands between them violently. “Go kiss his wounds and read him some Pablo Neruda or whatever shit you think you’ve been doing platonically.”

They disappear down the hall, and Jeremy watches them round the corner, gathering his groceries into his lap nervously. He stares at the door for a long time. The grain of the familiar wood looks different from so low down, almost unrecognizable.

His hand goes numb under the chilly wet packaging of a frozen pizza, and he struggles to his feet with his hands and head full. He’s suddenly desperate to be on the other side of the door.

“Jean,” He calls into the darkness. The only light is a little reading lamp over by the window, and Jeremy can just make out jean’s ghostly face on the outskirts of its light. “How you doing? Alvarez told me what happened.”

Jean’s face slips out of the light, and Jeremy squints into the darkness with the bags biting into his palms until he feels Jean brush by him on his way to the kitchen. He snaps the lights on and regards Jeremy, eyes stormy, mouth toppled over. His emotions are closer to the surface every day, near enough that Jeremy doesn’t have to do any real dissecting anymore.

“I heard,” he says flatly. Jeremy avoids his eyes, busying himself with hoisting the bags onto the countertop. He feels like he’s burning and Jean isn’t, and he doesn’t want to alarm him by trying to light his wick.

“Let me see where you’re hurt?”

Jean is closer when he turns around, but his arms are crossed and his jaw is stiff. He looks brave and scared, pointed in the opposite direction from whatever tries to get close.

“Jean,” Jeremy says again, as softly as he can without whispering. The sight of him after the conversation Jeremy just had is making him feel like he’s completely forgotten how to ride a bike, like he doesn’t actually know anything at all.

“Stop saying my name like I’m a child hiding under the stairs,” Jean snaps.

“Sorry,” Jeremy says. Then, “I’m scared.”

Jean looks at him distrustfully. It’s just like when they first met, only Jean’s gained healthy weight, and his clothes fit him right, and his hair has grown back, and he’s glowing, really, more every day. “For me?”

“A little,” Jeremy admits.

Jean looks away, justified in his bitterness, tight and distanced. “Don’t worry about me. It’s exhausting for both of us.”

“Scared for me too. For the way I feel.” Jeremy closes his eyes and tries to picture his team without Jean but he can’t do it.

He opens his eyes to see Jean drop his arms, looking vulnerable in the same way the pink skin around a wound is vulnerable. Jeremy tracks the movement of his wrapped hand and frowns. “Show me?”

Jean does nothing for a moment, but then he extends his left hand for Jeremy to take. He holds it tenderly, feeling his breathing climb up from his diaphragm to his lungs to his mouth. It’s all shallow and lightheaded when he sinks into Jean’s personal space and un-tapes his bandaging.

“Not so bad,” he says, quietly relieved. He turns Jean’s hand in the light from the exposing overhead fixture, watching blood wink from a clean wound. There are delicate scars holding his hands, and Jeremy thinks that he could do a better, deeper job of leaving a mark on him. When he looks up, Jean is staring back at him, jaw shaking from being clamped shut so tightly.

Jeremy reaches for his face without thinking, and Jean looks away so Jeremy’s fingers just graze the slope of his chin.

“It’s okay,” he says. Jean shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he repeats. He’s still holding his hand loosely. He kisses Jean’s face and pulls away when he flinches.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I heard what they said to you. You believe them when they tell you what you feel.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “I sometimes forget how well they know me. Almost as well as you do. They remind me how I feel when I’m being an idiot.”

“Must be frequent then,” Jean says, and Jeremy smiles. “I don’t tell you everything. It’s— difficult.” He looks at the floor, upset. His hair is corkscrewing at the side from sleeping on it after he showered. “You are very beautiful when you’re trying to comfort me.”

Jeremy puts a hand to his own mouth. “Can I please kiss you?”

Jean looks at him from under heavy lids. “Jeremy,” he says weakly. “Only if you want to.”

He kisses him. He pulls his hand to his chest and kisses him, smiling into it until Jean licks his own lips and the flicker catches Jeremy’s. A window blows open in his head, musses his papers and gets dust on everything he’d been trying to organize.

He kisses him more seriously, with his palms sweating and his mouth open. He pulls a hand through Jean’s hair and feels him curl closer. The feel of his crooked fingers on Jeremy’s hip makes him smile again, and he presses his mouth into the corner of Jean’s, almost laughing. He stays there, breathing and holding on, and Jean catches his face in his uninjured hand.

“I want to,” Jeremy tells him breathlessly.

“Is this allowed?” Jean whispers, muted but childlike. Jeremy kisses him on the mouth without really meaning to. The look on Jean’s face is more focused on what’s in front of him than it has been in months. It’s like Jeremy ripped the rearview mirror down and they’re finally driving forward blind.

“USC doesn’t have any rules against dating teammates, if you hadn’t noticed. We can do anything we want, and I want you.”

“Dating,” Jean repeats, frowning. Jeremy kisses him until he feels the uptick of his lips, the accidental happiness creeping through the cracks he’s been filling in for years, gorgeous weeds in a city sidewalk.

“Only if you want to,” Jeremy says against his mouth, and Jean nods, bumping their noses together.

“I want to.”

[punkscowardschampions]

Bea & Bronson

Bea: Hey Bronson: You don't have to Bea: I do, though Bea: it's important, your feelings are important, I acted otherwise, so you have to know that's not how it is, how I see things Bronson: Yours are too Bronson: I know you weren't seeing things clear last night Bronson: Call it forgotten Bea: Fuck that Bea: I know there's no forgetting Bea: and I know I've broken your trust and there's no getting it back Bea: but please, let me rebuild something Bea: I only did it because you're important to me Bronson: important in what way though Bronson: we aren't gonna be that Bea: No Bea: not like that, I don't want that Bea: I don't even want what I did, not really, I know that's just words when I did it but I swear to fucking God Bea: you're my best friend, my only friend, frankly Bea: it's a distancing thing...you know Bea: make you like him, put you in that box, that way I can see it as a good thing when I lose you Bea: but you don't deserve to be tarred with that brush, so I am, I'm really sorry Bronson: I've been around C & R long enough to see some fucked up boxes Bronson: and not walk off Bronson: I'm not doing that to you Bea: It probably won't be you Bea: that'd be me too Bea: I can't sustain shit Bea: I did the same to them, you know Bea: but they don't care so I didn't have to feel bad about it, got to be selfish Bronson: and they never bragged about it in my earshot...whoa Bronson: blessing or curse Bronson: I mean, if I was gonna, you'd get first dibs, but let's not make it weirder like Bea: Guess they give enough of a shit about you to not put that weird on you Bea: little did they know...ha Bronson: I mean they have made some offers over the years Bronson: But we were a lot younger Bronson: And the flashbacks only occur sometimes lol Bea: Didn't mean to add to the PTSD Bronson: You're off the christmas card list but you can still come for drinks Bronson: Nobody needs the newsletter and cringey family photo really Bea: Bron Bea: stop making it a joke if it ain't Bronson: I don't know how else to deal Bronson: You're not a club random Bea: You could tell me what you wanna tell them Bea: might help Bronson: I don't see it, you didn't have those motives Bea: Wanna violate my trust somehow Bea: hack me Bronson: Sure Bronson: Scope out that inbox Bea: go for it, serious Bea: #exposed Bronson: Am I gonna go further down the PTSD rabbit hole by catching sight of your nudes? Bronson: You can delete but they won't go Bea: I mean Bea: perhaps best to swerve my texts then Bea: uni emails Bea: ooh the scandal Bronson: Fix your grades while I'm there Bronson: 100 or nothing Bea: 🎯 Bea: Too good, you Bronson: Then, you'll owe me solidly, there's my angle Bronson: 👀 Bronson: Express your gratitude in a manner we won't have to run from and everything's normal again Bea: Anything you want Bea: WANT being the keyword there Bea: no funny business ever again Bronson: Swear on what you hold dearest Bronson: I can make those grades go down easy peasy Bea: Hmm, myself? Bronson: Those are my terms Bronson: 'Cause I can't stutter a no out don't mean a yes 😂 remember that going forward Bea: DON'T Bronson: too soon Bea: always too soon to be assaulting people Bronson: I'll stop smacking you with these punchlines in a minute like Bronson: Living with those two scallys too long Bronson: Not too soon to think about moving out Bea: You'd miss the mess you bless Bea: having your stuff knicked, constant undesirable and unknown visitors, all the noise and drama Bronson: I'll miss you if you do one after this botched reconciliation Bronson: You're my fave hot mess they ever brought back, Judes Bea: Don't make me cry Bea: this mascara is 22quid a pop Bronson: We'd be close to even Bronson: I'm worth at least that Bea: How rude of me to suggest otherwise Bea: but the foundation, the blush Bea: adding up Bronson: 💸 Bronson: Gotta get Ronaldo to teach you everything she knows about 🖐 discounts Bea: I think John Lewis would see her coming from a mile off, babe Bronson: There's a reason I have no fucking idea what one looks like inside Bea: like you're inside a upper middle class home but the bitch is also selling avon Bronson: 😂 Bronson: Take me there girl Bronson: I wanna see this Bea: Get you a pot of tea and a slice of something nice if you behave Bronson: I can be bought Bea: No judgment Bea: can't we all Bronson: Bring me coffee and all will be forgiven like Bronson: I've got the headache to end all 'em Bea: 😱 you? never! Bea: surprised you're not caning the red bulls already you animal Bronson: I would be if there was any left Bronson: hot commodity in this household Bea: 🤢 you are garbage people Bronson: You missed a trick not calling us monsters 😂 Bronson: It's early but you're a 🤓 Bea: I'm not gonna stoop to such levels Bea: any time of the day Bronson: Not gonna say your forgiveness depends on it Bea: Good Bea: not gonna change who I am, babe Bronson: Can't either Bea: Noted Bronson: But I'm not trying to change you, note that Bea: I know Bronson: Your man might Bronson: But I'm not going that deep into your inbox Bea: At least I don't have to tell him Bea: unless I drunkenly did Bea: bitch you better not have Bronson: I remember taking your phone at some point Bronson: If you're drunk enough to let me that's trouble Bea: 😬 Bea: Oh great Bronson: Get me his phone and it'll be like nothing ever happened Bea: idk if my skills of persuasion are gonna match his rage rn Bea: or pay for the first class postage Bronson: Quick trip to Ireland to buy my forgiveness and do some petty thievery could be a plan Bea: how is this for your forgiveness Bea: its entirely for me Bea: too pure Bronson: I need a- uh- Bronson: Guinness and Lucky Charms Bea: 😏 as cultured as I expected Bronson: Whoa there, I've seen that Leprechaun film with Rachel from Friends in it Bronson: Putting the cult in culture lol Bronson: 😂 Bea: Oh God Bea: 🤓 for all things trash Bronson: Blame the trash queen herself Bronson: A slut for shite horror Bea: I'll take great delight in telling her her Mum is just the same Bronson: Start saving for a headstone now I will Bea: she's gotta face facts some day Bronson: She'd sooner spite her face violently Bronson: We all know it Bea: 🤞 Bea: whaddya think I'm aiming for Bronson: Not to get Charlie about it but peas in a pod you two Bea: how dare you Bronson: face them faces, Judy baby Bea: Dick Bea: Now either way, I prove your point Bea: 😒 Bronson: You might be a smarty pants but I'm a smart arse like Bea: think of some witty retorts for Fraze then and go at it Bea: 'cos I can't face that yet Bronson: Time to build another fort and hide you in it Bea: gonna have to take up permanent residence at this fucking rate Bea: kick Tommy out of my old box room, that's not my graduate plan Bronson: Shack up with you like you're my actual missus Bronson: bedsits are very affordable Bronson: leave Fraze in the dust and forget the awkward convo looming Bea: Ha Bea: not exactly the plan either Bea: as much as I LOVE what you lads have done with the place 😽 Bronson: I'm not as house trained as poshos need theirs to be but not the pup they treat me like Bronson: We'd manage on our own, hun Bronson: love conquers all Bea: 💘 Bea: You're ridiculous Bronson: You need me Bronson: Too sensible by half Bea: 😏 Not gonna deny or accuse you of mixed messages BUT Bronson: Victim blaming isn't the way back into anyone's good books, love 😂 Bea: 🤷 Bea: don't want you to get the wrong idea Bronson: My ideas are fixed Bronson: No changing this mind Bea: that impenetrable firewall, I get it Bronson: Yeah Bea: Don't even be impressed by my nerd talk then, bitch Bronson: You can better Bronson: And we're trying to swerve pillow talk Bea: Look, I can't help being the best k Bronson: Back at you Bronson: Hard life being irresistible and unattainable like but I'm styling it out as effortless Bea: Ahh Bea: the one goal I can never reach Bronson: You're up there for me Bronson: If we stick together you've done it Bea: Safe to say I proved that I can't Bea: whore that I am Bronson: You're my whore Bronson: Stick around Bea: Who could say no? Bea: Such a charmer Bea: can't go in my inbox nevermind home anyway Bronson: Say the word and I'll clear it or pack a bag Bronson: Whichever Bea: Cheers, Bron Bea: what's the morning after without some drama to sort Bea: be at a loose end without it Bronson: Rather wipe your texts than clear up after the motley two Bronson: Disgusting Bea: Eurgh Bea: Don't even wanna think about them Bronson: How strong are the flashbacks? Bronson: I don't wanna think about that Bea: Why did you ask then 😂 Bronson: I'm a caring son of a bitch Bronson: And nosy Bea: Fair and fair Bea: wasn't that bad but not needing to repeat, is the answer Bea: but keep that on the DL Bea: not having them think I'M more repulsive than they are Bronson: I would but I feel like R's got that tattooed on her cause its such a legit review Bronson: Revolving door for her lack of repeat custom Bea: Well Bea: 'cept one Bronson: Let's not start Bronson: Enough of a headache without going there Bea: 2nd that Bronson: Onward to John Lewis Bronson: How much scandal can follow us around there realistically Bronson: We're well safe Bea: unlikely they're gonna want us to stock 'em up on overpriced knitwear Bronson: Trying to sell that on for anything but a loss would be an even worse headache Bronson: It's a no from me Bea: aw but you'd look adorable Bea: and sexless, more importantly Bronson: Would I though? Bronson: Or would I look quality in a bit of salmon pink Bronson: Trying to make me a target for the older crowd so I wouldn't turn you down next time, is it? Bea: 🤢🖕 Bea: nice bit of argyle Bea: golf chinos Bronson: 🏌 Bronson: a look Bea: if you wanna be some daddy's caddy Bronson: And risk taking Charlie's gig Bea: you know i know he knows he's past his prime Bronson: Yeah but I'm not trying to take his place in my mine Bea: Your loss booboo Bronson: Theirs Bronson: My daddy issues don't go that hard Bea: Worst luck Bronson: Like in the rankings I'm the worst horse to bet on if you want that action, dads Bronson: Pay my bills and get nothing back if that's your deal otherwise its a strike out Bea: save all this time I'm wasting on uni, eh Bronson: I haven't got a leg to stand on agreeing cause I'm still showing up myself Bronson: Half the time Bea: 👏 Bea: get you Bronson: someone's gotta show up to tell the rest to turn the computers off and on again Bronson: be a hero Bea: ⭐ for you Bronson: High five Bronson: We're killing it Bea: gotta slay in at least one area Bea: even if the rest is going to shit Bronson: I can't tell you not to feel bad about last night but I am Bea: I'm glad we're alright Bronson: You gotta get right by talking to freckles though Bronson: Rip off the plaster Bea: Yeah Bea: John Lewis first though, eh Bea: cheer myself with expensive crap when it all goes tits Bronson: Return it when the guilt kicks in Bronson: Easy fix for that fuck up Bea: If only everything had that 30-day return policy Bronson: We have to try on the most ridiculous shit they have Bronson: Guaranteed cheer up Bronson: Nothing's better than taking the piss outta me so I'm told Bea: 😂 sounds good Bea: though i can turn a look with anything Bronson: There she is Bronson: I'll meet you there but you have to walk in with me so I don't get trailed round the shop like the scum I come from Bea: wear your nicest hoodie please Bronson: Never dressing like a dosser when I'm meeting my lady Bea: so 😍 babe Bronson: Deffo