#the next time some religious fuck says this tell them obviously god wanted us to find those remnants if he made them

[cecenyss]

Okay the people who argue that God created the world with dinosaur bones and evidence that it existed before the Bible supposedly took place are obviously incomprehensible but. Like. That’s a hilarious concept. They genuinely believe that God created a world with little puzzles and Easter eggs for us to find and that’s kind of cute?? It doesn’t make any realistic sense but I’m obsessed with the idea of a god who just creates fake remnants of old species as a prank.

[testudoaubrei-blog]

“I’m loyal, that’s my whole thing.” - Scorpia, Season 4 Episode 6, Princess Scorpia

“Everything they taught us in the Horde about loyalty is meaningless” - Lonnie, Season 4 Episode 5, Protocol

Rewatching Season 4, I just finished Princess Scorpia. This is an episode that has always stuck with me, especially the A plot of Scorpia realizing how badly Catra has treated her and everyone else and deciding to leave. One thing I’ve been thinking about since I finished the series, though, is what this episode is telling us on a larger level. Looking beyond the character arcs and more at this show’s larger themes and message. Because this show is very much a show that says things, made by people who believe them. That earnestness and depth is one reason I keep coming back to it.

In the pull-quote above, and throughout the episode and before it, Scorpia defines herself in terms of loyalty. It is her identity - as she says, that’s what Scorpions do, they’re loyal. Her actions for three and a half seasons bear this out. When she first shows up, she tries to position herself as Catra’s new best friend, the one who won’t leave her and will stick by her no matter what. And that’s what she does, until this episode. She sticks by Catra through Catra’s increasingly villainous plots and erratic behavior. But she doesn’t just stick around. Until the portal, she barely contradicts Catra, and even afterwards, does so only furtively and immediately backs away as soon as Catra pushes back. For more than a year of show time, Scorpia has not just stood by Catra, or supported her, she’s actively assisted her in her most villainous and destructive acts. Scorpia is fighting by Catra’s side, eagerly carrying out her orders, and doing her utmost to see that Catra succeeds. But her loyalty goes beyond this practical help. Because for all that Catra loudly declares that she doesn’t need a new best friend, she consistently seeks out connection throughout the show, even when she’s at her most isolated in season 4. She needs moral support, and connection, and to know that she isn’t alone. Scorpia provides that, and keeps Catra going. Though Scropia isn’t initiating Catra’s various misdeeds, she’s assisting and supporting Catra throughout. On a personal, psychological level, the only word that seems adequate for this is ‘ennabling’ - Scorpia, sweet as she is, is Catra’s enabler. We see in the next few episodes what happens when Catra doesn’t have Scorpia’s support - she breaks down, and realizes that her actions really do have consequences, and that the affection she took for granted for so many years is something she can’t live without. But as long as Scorpia’s still around, Catra can’t make that realization.

Now I’m not going to say that Scorpia is morally culpable for Catra’s own actions. She’s not. Catra is solely responsible for her various betrayals, manipulations, violent outbursts and assorted murder attempts against...most of the rest of the cast (though being raised by Shadow Weaver sure as shit is a mitigating factor). But while Catra is obviously being a bad friend to Scorpia throughout, Scorpia isn’t actually being as supportive or helpful to Catra as she thinks, because Catra doesn’t actually need unconditional support, she needs people to be honest with her and express to her how she’s hurting them. She needs people who will stand up for themselves just as she needs to take responsibility for her own actions. This is part of why she and Adora have such a healthy dynamic in season 5 - Adora doesn’t take her crap, and Catra takes responsibility for her crap.

However, Scorpia -is- responsible for her own actions. And as I said above, she’s been with Catra every step of the way as Catra has attacked just about everyone and made war on Etheria. On a larger, political level, Scorpia is a willing participant in upholding the Horde’s oppressive system, and executing a war of aggression and colonization against innocent people. Speaking of colonization, perversely, she’s loyal to the very organization that dispossessed her and literally stole her birthright, then discarded it like a useless trinket when it was no longer useful to them. No one ever suggests ‘why don’t we let Scorpia connect with ~her runestone~’ until Glimmer does (and Glimmer’s motivations and arguments aren’t exactly forthright). Scorpia’s loyalty makes her an accomplice in her own oppression (like a bunch of the themes in this show there’s some interesting post-colonial stuff that the show doesn’t fully explore, probably because Noelle and the crew felt self-conscious about telling a post colonial story, or just didn’t know where to go with it). Interestingly, Scorpia’s loyalty to the Horde here parallels her loyalty to Catra, which has made her completely disregard her own wellbeing, which is the most obvious take away from the episode.

But I would argue that everything above shows that for Scorpia loyalty has been a way of avoiding developing her own moral compass. Scorpia repeatedly shoves aside questions of right or wrong in favor of being loyal to her friends and to the Horde. Loyalty has made Scorpia not only willing to accept her own mistreatment, but to willingly mistreat others, and to keep herself from asking any hard questions about what she’s doing or why. This is despite the fact that Scorpia is, by inclination, an incredibly gentle, kind and compassionate person. She’s willing to silence the best parts of her nature out of loyalty to Catra and the Horde. In the end, she also commits acts of violence and perpetuates the oppression of Etheria. And this is so insightful, because we see this sort of thing in our world all the time. So many oppressive institutions depend upon the loyalty of their members to keep them ‘just following orders’; so many abusive systems depend upon loyalty to stifle dissent and silence potential whistleblowers before they even speak. We see this in some of the most oppressive institutions and the worst scandals in our own society, and looking back through human history we see it in some of our nation’s and our species' most infamous crimes.

And when we look at the Horde as a system that Hordak has built in imitation of his elder brother’s empire, we see just how central loyalty is an ethos. Hordak himself is motivated entirely by loyalty to Prime - being a former clone, he spends the entire series not fully capable of accepting himself as an autonomous being (even when he acts like one and enjoys it, there’s some fucked up religious shit there that I won’t get into). He seems to have instilled this in his followers. The Horde Trio, Catra and Scorpia all hold loyalty as one of their highest values. Catra clings to it as her biggest accusation against Adora - that she was disloyal, as expressed in Catra’s perception that Adora broke her promise and abandoned her. Loyalty keeps the Horde Trio together and fighting for the Horde, and Scorpia with Catra. I think we can read between the lines and say the Horde runs on loyalty (as well as fear) and this is a very insightful portrayal of oppressive military and paramilitary institutions like armies of conquest and occupation and other instruments of state violence.

There’s another, related way of looking at how a sole reliance on loyalty as a moral framework has stunted Scorpia’s moral growth, and I think that brings together both the ways that it makes Scorpia willing to accept her mistreatment and participate in the mistreatment of others. Namely, loyalty in the Horde style isn’t just sticking with someone or something, but subsuming your own will into theirs. Following orders. Supporting your friend in what they do no matter what. Whatever you call it, it’s about turning off your own self - your self preservation, your self respect, your conscience, whatever other things you value - and just going along with what the person or institution you are loyal to wants you to do. And this is where Horde loyalty goes full circle, back to its origin - Horde Prime, the narcissistic self-made god who wishes to control or destroy everything that is not himself. Loyalty as Hordak conceived of it and as the Horde believes in it is a reflection of Prime's absolute control over all his domain.

In a way, self-determination is one of this show’s highest values (together with love). It’s at the heart of Adora’s 5-season, 3 year struggle to become her own woman and her own hero as she shrugs off one imposed destiny and then another and finally embraces what she wants. In a more negative form, it’s at the heart of Catra’s arc, as she finally accepts responsibility for her own actions and their consequences and starts working to make a world that she actually wants to live in, as well as admit to herself that what she really wants is love. And I could go on. This self-determination is existentially, obviously threatened by Prime chipping people, but it is also stunted by horde-style loyalty that demands unquestioning support and obedience.

Both the Horde Trio and Scorpia reject the Horde’s ideal of loyalty and walk away, but I think it’s interesting how they do it. Neither rejects loyalty entirely (not on the way Adora does) - the Trio, realistically, remain loyal to each other and simply walk away and walk out of the war (this might save their lives), joining the other disillusioned cynics in the Crimson Wastes. They reject loyalty to the horde and embrace a more supportive and respectful form of loyalty to each other. Scorpia leaves, but she actually comes to her crisis and makes her decision out of loyalty, and because it’s clear that her loyalty isn’t returned. The immediate situation - loyalty to Emily and Entrapta’s memory on one hand and Catra’s orders on the others - creates the conflict between loyalties that forces Scorpia to actually make her own choice rather than deferring to Catra. But she also reflects how Catra betrayed her loyalty to Entrapta, and thus how all of her friends’ loyalty to Catra is not returned.This is another point about horde-style loyalty - it’s one way - Hordak or Catra will demand your loyalty, but they feel no obligation to return it, which reflects Prime’s view of every other being in the universe as disposable. It’s only when she’s with the Princesses that Scorpia starts to find a new moral center, though sticking up for and protecting her friends remains important to her. In neither case, though, are these kinds of loyalty coming at the cost of either the Trio or Scorpia’s autonomy or ability to make moral choices of their own. In the very next episode, she says she wants to 'be A good friend' which is how the Princesses typically describe sticking together, which is a much more active and holistic concept than 'loyalty'. Scorpia confesses that she doesn't even know how, but she wants to learn and thinks the princesses can teach her.

There's another interesting counterexample to Horde Loyalty. Adora repeatedly breaks with the people around her to do what is right. First she leaves the Horde, then walks away from Catra by stages when it is clear that Catra is going to continue to harm other people and Etheria. Then she walks away from Glimmer, defies Light Hope and breaks loyalty with her supposed destiny and purposes as well as loyalty to the homelans she has never known. By season 5, Adora is loyal only to herself and the people she cares about, but she isn't constraining her will to anyone else's. For all that she seems like a rule follower Adora has a rebellious streak a mile wide, and she will do what is right, no matter what. This is what allows her to save the universe 3 times.

So the show’s argument is that loyalty is not a good moral framework to base all of our actions around. I don’t think it goes so far as saying that loyalty has no place in our ethics (being a good friend, which is such a huge part of the show, certainly includes loyalty, especially sticking with people when the going gets tough), but the show stresses time and again that being loyal to something or someone shouldn’t make you disregard yourself and what you think is right. Because it’s only by living out our own values and taking responsibility for our own actions that we can come into our own as moral beings. Moreover, if we insist on maintaining loyalty to institutions that oppress us and others, we can’t dismantle the systems of oppression that are holding us and other people down. (Yes, this is a pretty radical message, but I suspect that Noelle is some kind of anarchist? Anyway, it’s a thing.)

Okay, so that’s what I, a 35 year old, get from this kids show. I think it’s also worth pointing out that this lesson applies to younger viewers too, in their most immediate lives. Younger viewers will have had friends who didn’t treat them well, or might not have treated other people well, and who might have pressured them into participating in the mistreatment of others (this is kind of how bullying works a lot of the time). I think it’s important that younger viewers see how being a good friend never means disrespecting yourself or other people and it means a lot to me that She-Ra shows this in such a nuanced and realistic way.

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[gaysimpsstuff]

Flightless Birds Chapter Three; Where Birds Belong

Chapter One Here

Chapter Two Here

Chapter Four Here

Chapter Five Here

Summary: After visiting Kouten in the hospital, Y/n gets more and more ‘gifts’ from their stalker. But what are they supposed to do when it gets to be too much? Make a huge mistake, that’s what.

Word Count: 2.4K Words

Warnings: cursing, intrusive thoughts, mentions of masturbation, unwanted sexual letters, threats, police officers, implied drugging

Other: the first half of this chapter was meant to be in the previous chapter, but since Tumblr is a bitch I couldn’t do that and it was pushed here. 

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @cathy8taffy @1small-frogs @catcherisvibin @waffleareniceandfluffy @mandalorian-baby-bird @theblueslytherin @hawksadmirer @assassinslittlesister @deepcollectorphantom (lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the taglist)

Numb. 

Was that the right word to describe how you were feeling?

Your heart was hammering away in your chest, and your whole body felt light as a feather.

Your head was foggy, and you felt like the world beneath you was shifting, tumbling around like the tectonic plates of your life were slamming and crashing into each other.

When you arrived at home, there was another ‘gift’ waiting for you. You picked it up and brought it inside. You knew you should probably just ignore all the packages and throw them away, but you just couldn’t.

Why? Why must your curiosity be satiated like this?

Today, it was a teddy bear. A red string was wrapped around its neck. You sighed, setting it on the nightstand with the other ‘gifts.’ 

More and more gifts started to arrive over the next week and a half. Clothes you’d expressed interest in, small shiny things, key-chains, and a couple more dead animals. You were sick and tired of it, and you were stressed out of your mind.

You hadn’t slept in days, you were hardly eating, your weird stalker had started leaving notes talking about you. They knew things about you that they shouldn’t know, it was getting to be too much. You felt heavy and cotton-headed. 

Calls from unknown numbers appeared every day now, and most of them included you just saying ‘hello?’ Into the phone until the caller hung up.

You were so tired, and so freaked out. 

Paranoia flooded your mind about your stalker breaking into your house and hurting you. 

But you felt so selfish. All your stalker was doing was creeping you out. You hadn’t actually been hurt yet, however Kouten was in the fucking hospital! He had almost been killed and you were worried about a few creepy notes.

How much of a horrible person were you?

You had one comfort; him. 

Izanagi.

You’d been spending less and less time at your flat, and more time with Izanagi. You spent every other night at his house, and you’d gotten so used to sleeping in the same bed as him that you felt you couldn’t sleep without his gentle touches and soft breaths.

Everything about him calmed you, his gentle green eyes, the constellation of freckles on his cheeks, that one tooth in his mouth that was twisted to the left, the days when he forgot to do laundry and you had to fold his clothes, you loved it all.

Your feet hit the pavement too hard as you approached your home. The stray tabby cat of your neighborhood dashing away from your front door as you approached.

You looked down, exhausted.

There was a rectangle of white on your welcome mat, your name printed in the fancy kanji of your stalker’s handwriting.

You slowly lifted it off of the ground, entering your home. Everything was quiet…

Too quiet.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, flinching at the sound of the mattress creaking under your weight. Slowly, you peeled open the envelope, unfolding the letter. Your eyes scanned down the words, nervous.

Dear Y/n.

You’ve been getting all my presents, right? Gosh I do hope you enjoy them. I can’t believe I’m finally writing you a letter! It’s so exhilarating, you know? 

I’ve never felt like this before, ever. Nothing even came close. God Y/n, I’m so in love with you! Do you know? I’ve been courting you this whole time! We’re birds of a feather, both lazy as fuck but so vulnerable.

I wish I didn’t have to hurt Yuu like I did, but that little bitch had to die. Unfortunately he survived, how tragic.

You stopped reading looking up for a moment. You were right! Your stalker had been connected to Kouten’s attack! That… didn’t feel very nice. You thought you’d feel better about it, but now you just felt sick.

It was your fault Kouten was hurt.

I could understand he was close to you, I hated that. I would have gone for Fujikawa, but he’s surprisingly cautious. You’d think he’d be more reckless, being as fucking stupid as he is, but nooo. 

I’ll have mercy on him, I’m sure it’d just make you upset to see him dead anyways. But I swear, go near him again and I’ll kill him. 

I don’t wanna talk about that in my first real letter with you, so instead I’ll just talk about you.

How breathtaking you are.

How fucking gorgeous you are.

Y’know, you really are fucking amazing, you think I didn’t see? You really took the time to appreciate yourself yesterday, I think that was your way of saying you loved me back! Touching yourself… oh fuck you looked so hot.  Think I didn’t hear? I really wish I was there, fucking you the way you need. I’d give you everything you’ll ever need. You won’t need anything but me. 

Baby you’ve just given me my next month’s worth of masturbation material.

Remember, I love you!

    -Your future husband

No. Fuck fuck no. Gross get out drop it throw up rip it to shreds hurt smash something scream no no no no no get out get it out get it out find him report him police heroes what the fuck Izanagi-

Izanagi.

Izanagi.

Hey siri, call Izanagi.

“Yo, Y/n! What’s up? Miss me already~” Izanagi. His voice relaxed you and you found your brain forming coherent thoughts again. You opened your mouth to confess what was happening, but nothing came out. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Then you cried. 

It felt so good to finally cry, you hadn’t cried in what felt like years, sobbing and looping his name, your only comfort in this chaos.

“Woah, woah, hey what’s going on? Hang on I’m coming over, don’t you fucking dare hang up!”

You sniffed, nodding, continuing to just mutter his name. In Just under five minutes, he was letting himself in with the spare key. You felt the bed shift, and you felt his warmth next to you. You fell against his side, crying harder. He held onto you, rubbing at your sides.

“Hey, hey. Come on, what happened? Tell me!” you could hear the fear in his voice. You still didn’t feel like you could speak so you just shakily handed him the letter you received, hoping he’d understand your reaction once he saw what you’d gotten.

His eyes scanned the paper before widening, and he covered his mouth with his hand. He dropped the paper, standing up and grabbing a suitcase from your closet and starting to fill it with clothes. He moved with haste, and you noticed he was grabbing your favorite clothes.

The sweatshirt he’d gifted you for Valentine’s Day, the Edgeshot t-shirt you wore every other day, the sweatpants you always slept in, 

“W-what are you doing?” you whimpered.

“You really think I’d let you stay here when some fucker obviously is watching you? I’m gonna report this to the police. No one is going to hurt you, okay? No one hurts my friends!” he turned back to you, a hard look in his eyes. You had a feeling that if he ever ran into your stalker, it would take multiple top heroes to hold him back from killing the guy.

You were grateful.

Izanagi helped you pack, and you told him all the other details. How it started with the Hawks beanie, how you’d gotten bottle caps and sweatshirts, and even dead animals. How you felt too scared to tell anyone, afraid of getting blown off.

He comforted you, he promised you he’d protect you. You felt safe with him. He would protect you. You thanked him religiously as he helped you bring your things over to his place. He kept telling you that of course he’d be doing this, it was the right thing to do.

This man… this man was your rock. He was your everything. You knew there’d be no way to fully repay him for his kindness towards you, but you promised yourself you’d try. 

You sat on his bed again, realizing that for the time being, this was your bed too. He was beside you, holding you tight and comforting you. You relaxed into his touch, before a realization struck you.

“Izanagi- he threatened to kill you. He hurt Kouten too, he- he can probably kill you if he really wants to.” Izanagi shook his head, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Nothing, I swear nothing is going to happen to me. Okay? Now, we’re going to the police station. You will not leave my sight, you will not let go of my hand. You’re not gonna wander off without telling me, etc etc. Clear?”

“Crystal.” you smiled softly, nodding. “Thank you so much Iza.”

“Like I said, of fucking course I’d do this. Come on, let’s get in the car.” he took your hand, putting your stalker’s letter in his pocket and taking you with him back out to his car. You got in the back, and he drove quickly. He glanced back at you repeatedly, double and triple-checking you were there and safe. 

  Finally, he pulled up at the police station and got out, quickly running around to the back doors as you got out. His hand was instantly on yours, pulling your body close against his and walking in the station with you. He briskly walked up to the police lady behind the counter.

“Oh, hello! Is there something I can do for the two of you?” she asked, it was so sweet and cheerful, so vastly different from the emotions swirling around in your mind.

“Yes, here.” Izanagi pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to the lady. “My friend has a stalker, and he’s attacked another one of our friends.” the woman looked over the letter, nodding.

“Alright, I’m going to have some officers talk to your friend in private and-”

“Not happening.” Izanagi growled. “I get it, but I’m not leaving my friend.”

“I- I want him in the room.” you added. “Please.” the woman sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, but unless you are a minor, I can’t have anyone else in the room with you. Even then it would be limited to certain people. It’s a safety precaution.”

“Fuck!” You grabbed Izanagi’s arm, rubbing his bicep to calm him down. He turned to you, offering you a strained smile. “You’ll be okay, right?” he asked, worried. You nodded, a feeble attempt to comfort him.

He gave the officers that came in a hard look, like he expected them to hurt you. You broke away from Izanagi’s comfort and followed them into a questioning room.

There were so many questions.

Every little detail about your life, even things that didn’t seem all that important. You told them everything you told Izanagi, plus a little more. They weren’t very comforting, and when you got scared, they got angry. It wasn’t at all like Izanagi, who softened when you were upset. Any detail that you didn’t have, they seemed to be upset with you about it. As if you were supposed to do your own little investigation illegally. It was… very annoying.

“Alright, we’re going to call a hero in here.” one of the officers told you. “Hawks has been doing a lot more patrols in your area than usual, he might have already seen your stalker and can probably take care of it for you. Is that okay?”

Hawks. You’d just met him one. He was a hero. He was trusted, beloved even. 

Call him in. He’s Hawks. He’s the number two. He wasn’t creepy, just do it!

“That’s fine, I’ll talk to Hawks.”

Maybe you should have thought about it more.

Maybe you should have trusted that feeling in your gut telling you ‘no.’

Maybe you shouldn’t have told Izanagi. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have involved the police.

Maybe you shouldn’t have spoken with Hawks so casually when you met him.

Maybe you shouldn’t have been a bird.

Maybe then.

You’d be free as you once were.

It took five minutes. Then the door swung open and he walked in. It had been a week or so since you saw him, but when he layed his golden eyes on you, you got the feeling that you’d seen him only yesterday, in a flash of red in the dead of night.

“Hello, Y/n L/n.” He spoke calmly, but you noticed a slight tremor of excitement. Why was he so happy to see you? 

You felt chills run down your spine at the way he sat next to you, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. His whole body seemed to vibrate in happiness, his wings fluttering as he locked eyes with you.

You shyed away from him, desperately trying to take your hands back, but his grip was firm. There was no escape.

“I-I changed my mind, officer!” You turned to the policeman, who was just leaving the room, leaving you with him. “I don’t want to talk to a hero, I’m sorry!”

The man turned back to you, a lazy, amused, smirk on his face. 

“Don’t worry, he’s a pro. You’ll be fine.” The man waved you off, shutting the door behind him. You felt like screaming, or throwing up, or both.

Something about Hawks seemed off. The way he looked at you, touched you, grinned so wildly at you, he didn’t look like a hero.

He looked like a crazed lunatic.

Click

The officer had locked the door.

“U-um, hi, Hawks.” you whispered, voice quiet. Fuck you wished Izanagi was here to comfort you. Hawks’ gloves were cold, the beaten leather rough against your hands, they were nothing like the gentle warmth that Izanagi’s soft skin emitted. 

His grin only grew, and he pulled you close to him, arms reaching around under your wings to grip your back. You squeaked, instinctively grabbing onto his biceps. His body was pressed against yours, and his breathing quickened, his face buried into your shoulder. You could feel him inhaling your scent.

“Fuck.” he growled, and you could feel his talons digging into your skin through his gloves and your shirt. “You have no idea how happy I am to finally see you again.” his voice wavered, and you could practically feel his excitement.

“S-sir, please let me go-” you whimpered. “I’m here to report a crime, not as a fan trying to meet you.” the hero cooed, only holding you tighter. 

“I know why you’re here, dear Y/n~” his breath tickled your ear, and you felt tears brimming in your eyes. “And I know who’s been following you. So nice of him to send you all those gifts, right~?” 

No

“So cruel of you to act like he’s a criminal.”

Not like this 

“He’s going to take good care of you~” 

Not right now 

“I love you so much”

Ow.

You felt... foggy.

And warm, really warm.

Tired…

So… tired…

Darkness.

[valaks]

Deleted Fic Snippet: Limits

Ever since that fateful meeting in Dubai, Alex had been pushed to his limits. He would pay any price for success even at the expense of his own health. But even that has limits and if Alex insisted on pushing at them Yassen would help him find them,

Montenegro had been a nightmare. Four months. Three strike teams. Two assassination attempts - one on him and one on their primary contact and a partridge in a pear tree. It was a disaster through and through. But it was over and he had succeeded and that’s all that mattered.

He hoped.

Dr. Three and Yassen had only become more critical as time passed. He had quickly learned that while success was not optional there were varying degrees with a million factors that determined where he fit on a sliding and very nebulous scale. The factors were slowly being added. Cost had been first. The bunker busters in Australia had made that particular operation far more expensive than it should have been. It had been a year since then and the snakehead had just now broken even from his initial acquiring of it.

After that it had been a never ending cascade - developing contacts, operational stability, effective asset utilization, obtaining other business interests in the area, and gaining favors from intelligence agencies and other entities “Never do anything for free, Alex, if you’re eliminating someone chances are governments want them gone too.” It was no longer as simple as go in, meet the objectives, and get out. He missed those days. Those days meant he could sleep and eat something that was not a sandwich while he poured over reports and gave briefings. Sagitta did their best to try and keep up with him. They tried to lighten the load but there was nothing to be done for it. Most of the things that kept him up at night were things only he could handle. Reports only he could give.

Still, he didn’t miss the critical eyes on him.

Sagitta had been watching him more and more closely, getting more and more aggressive with trying to get him to eat and sleep and drink. He was grateful, in a way. If they hadn’t, he probably would have dropped a long time ago. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of himself. He did. But there were only so many hours in a day and he needed every single last one to keep from failing. The only thing that hadn’t fallen by the way side was his near religious 2 hour workouts. Yassen would know if he skipped on those and the price for that failure would be high and harsh so he always made time for that. Otherwise, he tried to get through as best he could. He always did well during the initial part of the operation when it was planning and logistics and calm. But when shit hit the proverbial fan he was lucky to get even a few hours of sleep in. Yassen’s daily four hours seemed more like a goal he would love to reach than some unattainable God-like power that he first thought. He could crash at the end of the mission just like he did every time. All he had to do was make it through the debrief. Then he could sleep.

He knocked back the last of the energy drink as they neared the high rise. It had become a staple when he got off the plane. A habit that Yassen would strongly disapprove of but would hopefully never find out about. As they came to a stop at a traffic light, Ivey pulled a tan container from his pocket and held it out.

Concealer?

He looked up in confusion.

“You look like hell and Mr. Gregorovich won’t just take that out on you.”

Fuck. He hadn’t even considered that.

Alex practically snatched it out of his hand and flipped the mirror down, and instantly regretted it. The concealer wouldn’t do much to hide the bags under his eyes but it would make the dark circles less noticeable. At this point he would take what he could get.

“Why? Has he said anything?” He asked as he used the wand to smear it under his eyes.

“Told Marcus to keep an eye out in case you hadn’t figured that out from all of his nagging.”

He really should have. Marcus could be a nag but he had been significantly worse this op. Alex had just brushed it off as him being stressed after the assassination attempt but that was what marked the operation going to hell in a hand basket. There wouldn’t have been much of a need before then. If Yassen was worried enough to bring it up to Marcus behind his back….. He took another glance in the mirror, suddenly noticing all the tells of exhaustion that Yassen would pick up on. It was normal, though. Yassen could handle grueling operations with grace but Alex was still learning. He didn’t have 15 years of field experience yet. If it was just about sleep he might be able to sell it with that, but given the number of water bottles and plates of food that had been piled up on his desk by Marcus, he doubted that was it.

The concealer was as good as it could get without being too obvious or too overworked. He looked at his hands, Yassen would notice the makeup smudges.

“There’s hand sanitizer in the glove box. Here’s some eye drops too.” He set them on top of the console.

Should have put those in first but Ivey wouldn’t know that. He had never worn makeup in his life and probably never would. Then again, almost 5 years ago Alex would say that he never would either. Obviously hadn’t stopped him.

He worked the gel in between his fingers doing his best to scrub it off of him or at least blend it in.

“Need me to take another lap?” Alex considered it. It would be too suspicious.

“No. Head in. I’ll make it quick.” He said, snapping the plastic off the cap and hurriedly dropping them in before they turned into the cameras. He dabbed at the excess trying his best to keep it from smudging the concealer and glanced back in the mirror and touched up the corners. Passable if no one was looking too closely. Unfortunately, Yassen definitely would be. “Next time he approaches you about something like this I better know about it.”

“Talk to Marcus.” Ivey returned, “I imagine if he didn’t say anything to you he had a damn good reason.”

Like a threat from Yassen went unsaid.

Alex took a steadying breath as they rolled to a stop then stepped confidently out and walked purposefully toward the elevators.

[woeisme-iamwoe]

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 1

I went through my entire ao3 history because I’m insane, AND here’s my favorites. (There’s not a lot of aus because I’m not a huge fan of them, and there’s no sad endings. I’m a hopeless romantic leave me alone. There is angst though! Lots) 

Beginning with SakuAtsu (I’m a hoe for Atsumu): 

Hide and seek, by badreputation (10k. E. canonverse) 

It sure is a good thing Atsumu doesn't have a latex allergy 

It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

Some Memories, We May Keep, by mika60 (31k. T. canonverse) 

This is canon, fight me on it. 

The missing panels, the missing games, the missing moments.

The them we never saw.

*Now complete! :)*

 every action has an equal and opposite reaction, by akanemnida (10k. T. canonverse) 

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

 Ass-fingering as a prelude to relations of the emotional kind: a case study, by neverwere (2k. E. canonverse) 

Fucking hilarious, the imagery is absolutely hilarious. 

"Marry me, he thinks, as he comes around Sakusa's fingers and all over himself.

This. This is exactly why you don't let strangers or very attractive teammates finger you out of the blue.

Everyone knows that the ass is the shortest way to the heart."

Or

When it comes to sex, Atsumu has rules. Guidelines! SOPs! He swears they work, they've always worked.

Until they don't.

 parallax error: angle of inclination, by min_mintobe (10k. T. canonverse)

But now there's the one person Atsumu'd promised himself never to touch. His eyes leave Atsumu breathless with guilt at seventeen, and he spends the next six years safe in the satisfaction of making things right.

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

 autumn ends, but we remain, by wolfsbvne (5k. T. canonverse)

Author says in their ending notes that they're not an ‘author’, but methinks they should write more and pursue that career path because this was wonderful.  

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

I left a taste in your mouth, by emso (26k. E. bodyguard au)

Because obviously 

Sakusa fixes him with a vague expression of something like distaste. There's a scathing edge to his tone when he speaks. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, not everyone who meets you is instantly dying to get into your pants, Miya."

"Lucky I don't really care right now what 'everyone' wants to do, then." Atsumu swivels his mug around on the tabletop a few times, and then brings it to his mouth to drain the last few dregs of his latte. Over the rim of his mug, he adds casually, "Just you."

Whoa hey Bodyguard Omi, I think Spoiled Rich Kid Tsumu might possibly have a teensy crush on you. 

 How do you know you're in love?, by spiritscript (12k. T. canonverse)

Pure art

“So, how did you know you were in love? How did it feel?” Atsumu felt nervous asking this, a slight wiggling in the pit of his stomach, unable to look at the man beside him who rolled his shoulders in an attempt to reset his posture. “I mean, you didn’t resonate with what I said, so, what is love to you Omi-kun?”

Atsumu thinks he must be in love with Hinata Shouyou and so asks the best person he knows to help him understand his feelings

 san'yo expressway, 6:17 pm, by yamabota (13k. T. canonverse)

Of violent forethoughts, and handheld car vacuums. 

Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe.

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out. 

Different Kinds of Dysfunctional, by DeathBelle (Series, 5 works. T-E. Canonverse)

Honestly, I think this one is kind of famous amongst Sakuatsu readers but I can’t not include it. If I recall correctly, this is the fic that got me into Sakuastu, so thanks, DeathBelle. The characters are portrayed really well (i.e. Sakusa is disgusted and confused, and Atsumu is a little shit). You’ve got a good balance between conversations and descriptive thoughts and all-in-all it’s just a really good read. 

 Atsumu said into the heavy silence, “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it.”

"Thought about what?" said Sakusa.

Atsumu smiled to himself, smug. "You know."

"No, I don't."

"You know. Of course you’ve thought about it. There’s no reason to be ashamed, Omi-kun. I’m a real catch.”

Sakusa was appalled. "You're disgusting."

"You flatter me. I'm not judging you. I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it, too."

Sakusa shifted, slowly, to peer over his shoulder. He wasn’t scowling, but his expression was unreadable. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Atsumu wasn't joking, and he was about to get more than he bargained for.

i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands), by liliapocalypse (7k words. T. canonverse):

Oh, god. This one was so cute. Super fluffy. Loved the metaphors and symbolism. Sometimes you just can’t say things out loud. 

When a bad injury shocks the whole V. League, Sakusa finds himself paired with Atsumu for more rigorous assisted stretches before every training. Atsumu then finds himself writing random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe the spiker, forcing Sakusa to reevaluate how his touch aversion became an irresistible yearning for more, and how the boy with the annoying hair somehow brought that hunger to life.

Or, the fic where Atsumu mindlessly writes a confession on Sakusa’s back when he thought Sakusa wasn't paying attention. Sakusa always did.

 mortality is found is the flesh of your sins, by novrik (10k. M. canonverse)

This is literally my favorite fic of all time. Not just of Sakuatsu, not even of the Haikyuu fandom. Ever. Favorite fic ever. Listen, I’m an atheist, but this fic took me on a religious experience that I haven't come down from yet. The symbolism had me actually shivering, and I had to put my phone down quite a few times. Just, oh wow, just read it. I’d like to share my favorite line; ‘And if Sakusa is Eve, if he takes a bite, what then? Perhaps, he is a little afraid of the knowledge he will gain’. My god, author, if you ever see this, this is not only a plea for you to continue writing, but also an offer of marriage. Your hand, author?

 dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate.

Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?

Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying?

When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

 sakuatsu domesticity simulator, by pseudoanalytics (75 words. T. canonverse)

75 words because it's actually a digital art simulator. An interactive fic! How frickin’ cool is that? The art is so beautiful and I love the plotline and ugh, just everything. Please read, or watch, or click around, yes. Good. 

Update: artist created another interactive fic and of course it is wonderful. SunaOsa this time! https://newttxt.itch.io/cheesecake honestly just check out @newttxt their work is amazing and I love everything they do. 

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

***

(this is the result of letting the sakuatsu brainworms really get to you...)

 Pas De Deux, by hatsuna (19k words. T. Ballet/college au)

There's just something about prim, proper ballet Sakusa and human-benign-tumor Atsumu that makes my heart burst. Seriously gorgeous writing style, loved every second. By the same author who wrote ‘liminal spaces’ (which is also just perfect) so that should give you a good idea of the style. 

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes. The twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?”

 Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

 the affective presence of our black and white reruns, by kozumess (19k. E. canonverse)

Beautiful, classic misunderstandings, my heart actually physically ached at that one scene (you’ll know the scene when you come to it). Kiyoomi is so refreshingly relaxed(? Is that the right word to use? We all know Omi never truly relaxes). 

but the want, it's always there, constant like the static playing on every television channel, present even when the station disconnects.

 cut the conversation, just open your mouth, by meeksoo (E. 16k. canonverse)

Absolutely filthy...BUT WITH FEELINGS! Completely nails the Sakuatsu dynamic, and protective ‘Tsumu? Love it. 

Sakusa opens the door. He always does.

 They’re teammates first, barely even friends. But they hook up on the regular and it works. It’s simple, easy. But then a fan gets too close, Sakusa reacts, and Atsumu is swept up in how quickly things can get complicated.

__

As Atsumu palms himself over his briefs, still feeling off, he realizes it’s because he still wants it. Him. Sakusa. Even after already having him earlier.

He should probably feel self-conscious, mildly ashamed even, that he’s panting ‘Omi Omi’ into the dark beneath the steady thrum of the AC unit when Sakusa’s right down the hall, probably good for it if Atsumu ended up back at his door. Instead, he lays there, writhing and sweaty, alone in his hotel room bed thinking about Sakusa and touching himself.

Afterward, as cum begins to cool on his chest, Atsumu really can’t help but face the fact that things may be getting complicated.

 the hands that beckon me to come, by Ellieb3an (4k. E. canonverse)

So hot, what the fuck! 

The toss, the run, the spike-serve at the end of it all—Sakusa sees it happen in perfect clarity as if time has slowed and his vision narrows to the center where just Miya exists, all powerful muscle and extraordinary skill and that air of confidence.

Sakusa isn’t one of the best receivers in the league for no reason, so his body moves on muscle memory, forearms absorbing the sting of the hit. It’s not enough. But his eyes are still on Miya—on the way his shorts ride up his muscular thighs as he lands, on the bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, on the clench of his fist thrust into the air—when the ball ricochets out of bounds.

***

Atsumu stays late at practices to work on his new third serve, even when his frustration with it starts throwing off the rest of his game. Sakusa notices and starts hanging back to secretly watch him from the gym doors. He’s fascinated with Atsumu's determination... and more than a little turned on by it, too.

 you're the flame i use (when it gets dark), by starkartifices (55k. M. canonverse. Ongoing)

Everything is the same except the Sakusas are super rich. 

“Oh, if you want dear, you could bring a plus one. Though, I doubt you have a partner yet.”

“I do actually.”

“What was that, dear?”

"I do have a partner, I mean."

alt title: crazy rich sakusas 

 the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or; the fine art of emotional recognition), by pseudoanalytics (13k. E. canonverse)

Ah, yes. A Pavloved sex life. A Pavloved LOVE life?? 

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

 flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu oneshots), by wordstruck (5 works. T-E. canonverse)

Works 1-3, I think follow a linear story, whereas the last two don't. 

All sakuatsu works are just the angstiest, most miscommunication filled pieces of absolute gold and this one is no exception. Wow. These men are assholes and they bring out the worst in each other, but I’ll be damned if they’re not soulmates. 

Collection of SakuAtsu fics. Several fics are loosely set in the same storyverse. Not necessarily directly connected and can all be read as standalones.

[ontheblock]

BABE U WRITE FOR SALLY FACE?? Anything with Travis (male s/o with him obviously) or Sally please :O your writing is amazing!!

YES I DO !! i used to have a bunch of wips i still haven’t finished but i figured i can still add sf to my list since it was such a comfort game when it came out haha. as per usual, this isn’t beta read, i fucked the formatting up twice but just squint when you notice any errors- also thank you love <3 i‘d give you a free bologna sandwich for requesting trav ily. 100% beef obviously /winkwonk

fabric

•warning: abuse, religious guilt, homophobia and f-slur use, bad first kisses, badly written fluff, travis being travis

Travis was meant to live a life molded for him by his father. The pattern was already placed on the fabric when his first cry shook the hospital room at 6:33am. He was supposed to be cut from his father‘s mold but Travis‘ fabric was already old and frayed, the intertwining strings of muted tones that held him together felt lose by the time he could run. Sometimes he thought about the reason why he was incomplete. His fabric wasn‘t strong enough to hold his family name, not stretchy enough to bounce back from his father‘s reactions. Travis‘ mother patched him up every time there was another bruise on his back or face. She would cut parts out of her own fabric to cover the ripped strings her husband‘s belt left on their son. But she had only so much left when the beatings got worse.

Travis was in middle school, attending a christian summer camp a few hours away from Nockfell. He never noticed how different the air was at home but the sky was so murky compared to literally everywhere else. His father thought it was a good idea to let the boy out of town while he took care of the Ministry business which was code for something Travis shouldn‘t stick his nose into. He never asked but someone went missing while he was gone. Tragic.

Not as tragic as the camp counselor calling Travis home on their last day. The boy didn‘t know about that but they told his father about some inappropriate behavior his son showed with a fellow camper - a boy his age, Kenneth didn‘t care for the name or where he was from. All he needed to know was what his son did with that boy. The counselor tried to calm the angry parent on the phone but as soon as the information was exchanged the line went dead. He didn‘t want to hear the washed up excuses. His son was young and it was best to get these urges out of his system before they could even develop - dig for the deepest root you could find and rip it from the still fresh ground before it bloomed into something ugly, even if that meant that the garden would never bloom at all. Kenneth was a man of action after all.

That evening Travis came home clueless while his father already stood in the hallway with his wife behind him, holding onto his hand and uttering whispered quick prayers but his thick fingers already curled around the leather painfully hard. The strain it caused in his hand only fueled the need for a release as he charged for his son who didn‘t even have the chance to slip out of his worn sneakers.

That evening his mother didn‘t stay when Kenneth told her to go to bed early. Travis asked himself if it pained her the same way it pained him when his skin split under the force his father put in his first few strikes.

“You want to hold hands with boys now?“

“My son isn‘t a faggot, is that clear?“

“I gave you a place in this filthy town. You will appreciate it and live a proper life!“

“You will thank me when you don‘t burn for being dirty.“

It wasn‘t meant for Travis to answer because by the end of the night he would not even think about a boy‘s hand to be soft and warm anymore.

Travis was older now but he never found enough of anything to mend the damage his father did that night. Travis didn‘t try to explain that he held onto the boy because they figured that they wouldn’t slip on the wet mud that way. Instead he kept quiet about it ever happening and his father was content with this as long as he pulled his son from the devil‘s path to sodomy.

And Travis thought so too until a thread of blue fabric pulled together a gaping hole in his fabric. It stuck out like a sore thumb - too vibrant but warmer than any patch his mother gave to him and when he sat on the grimy bathroom floor in school after Sal Fisher of all people gave him a fucking pep talk, it felt nice. The warmth let his tears evaporate so he could pull himself together for the rest of the day.

But it was short lived. The warmth spread through him so fast he felt like burning up whenever he sat in class with Sal. He tried everything to get that blue thread out of his life but pulling on it only felt like strangling himself and he regretted ever letting his bully persona slip in that bathroom just because Sal fucking Fisher found the note he threw away - the note that was about him but Travis never had it in himself to tell him that. He regretted his promise to be less of an asshole because he knew he couldn‘t. Not even three days later the heat in his belly was so hot that he boiled over when he saw Fisher talking to that ginger nerd by the lockers. He ended up calling him a faggot because how dare he be openly gay in the same town Kenneth Phelps lived? How dare he be happy like this?

Sal tensed at the insult. Did he actually think Travis could be better? And why was his freakshow friend not hurt at the insult when it still burned in his throat to say it? Why did it feel like the slur wasn‘t meant for Todd at all? Travis swallowed hard as he fled the hallway in such a hurry that the three folded up pamphlets in his barely zipped up backpack fell on the muddy vinyl flooring.

“Fuck, Phleps. Just wait. Travis!“ The boy in question tucked at his collar as he turned a corner just to slip into another empty corridor. They had a free period right after gym class and Sal Fisher was determined to finally talk to the boy who relentlessly bullied him to now avoid him like it was the other way around. “Jesus, I‘m not gonna pry but if your dad-“ Sally harshly bumped into Travis as he whipped around, finally coming to a stop. Shame crawled up the taller teen‘s neck when he didn‘t find the prosthetic nose digging into his sweater uncomfortable.

“Shut up! God, just stop!“ Sal was surprised that he would use his Lord‘s name in vain like that and if the situation was anything but this he would‘ve laughed. “Travis, I don‘t know how you feel but-“, Sal tried again but Travis was at his limits this time. “You don‘t and you never will, Fisher. Your dad would accept you being a dirty faggot but mine doesn’t!“ He tried to fill his words with venom but it all bounced back on the guy‘s mask anyway with how much his voice actually trembled.

There was a moment of silence that made Travis want to literally get struck by his God‘s angry lightning. He couldn‘t even leave. It was like all the root his father dug out slowly crawled back to feed on his shame and ground him in front of Sal who still had to react and maybe Travis should just tell him to fuck off so he wouldn‘t have to find out what he wanted to say next.

“Travis...“ Sal lowered his voice in a fake moment of privacy. “Are you-?“ Travis already shut his eyes as he clenched his fists. He didn‘t like where this was going but there was no more fight in him. “Nevermind. You don‘t owe me shit but I saw your back.“ Travis exhaled through his mouth until there was nothing left in his lungs. He knew where that question was headed. Are you gay, Travis? Are you the faggot and that‘s why you‘re so angry? He was glad that Sal changed his approach because even Travis himself was too scared to find the answer.

“So what, Sally Face? You‘re sticking your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. If you even have one under that stupid mask.“ Travis harshly pushed his index finger into the boys chest and the sharp inhale he made almost made him freeze up and apologize. But he couldn‘t. He was too deep to go soft now. The look in Sal‘s eyes was enough to make Travis finally stumble backwards and push past him.

He didn‘t follow him this time.

His verbal fights with Sal Fisher were like a damn wake up call for the teen. The rush of warmth it spread in his chest and the cold shiver in sent down his spine were shaking his body every time. He started noticing that Nockfell wasn‘t that murky. Travis used to really like yellow as a child because it reminded him of his mother’s favorite sunflower dress. She was a different woman now. The vibrant yellow was fading just like her hair. Maybe it was just Nockfell, maybe it was because of her suffocating husband draining her of her life and slowly unraveling her fabric. It didn‘t matter now but to make a depressing story short, Travis didn‘t have a favorite color anymore.

But the sky looked like a pretty shade of blue on some days. He never noticed but his bathroom tiles had blue specks in them. He always thought they were just a weird grey. There were tiny flowers blooming in the most vibrant blue behind the school and he wished that they were behind the church too but nothing ever grew around that building. But he would pluck them sometimes when he was skipping gym class. His last fight in the empty hallway was weeks ago and he hoped that Sal finally gave up on his savior complex. But why did his chest sting at that thought? His fingers slowly clutched his sweater as he stared at a withering flower by his foot. Travis jumped out of his thoughts when the metal door creaked open.

“Yo.“ Sal pushed the door closed with his shoe as he held up a hand to casually greet him. His face scrunched up. “What do you want?“ Travis lowered his head again. The boy obviously noticed the fresh shiner on his face already but facing him still felt like he exposed himself. “Just wanted to confirm that the church boy was skipping class.“ Uninvited, the teen sat beside Travis on the grass, with a healthy distance of course. “Shut up. My faith has fuck all to do with school“, Travis spoke lowly but his voice was tired. Sal just hummed in agreement before silence draped over them. Not uncomfortably like the usual strained void of reactions when one of them dropped something they weren‘t prepared for. It felt ok like this and it felt like a blanket. To Travis that blanket was soft and blue but before he could shake it off and stand up there were strings of the obnoxious fabric already weaving themself into his personal space.

“We don‘t have to fight all the time.“ Sal didn‘t look at him and neither did Travis. He really didn‘t have a reason to disagree. Not one that wouldn’t blow his cover at least.

“Maybe I could come to your little church and-“ Travis head snapped up. “Don‘t“, he blurted out a little louder than he meant. “It‘s a joke. I‘m not religious.“ Sal snorted, plucking a few pieces of grass. “Yeah, because you‘re a sinner in the eyes of the Lord. You f-“ Travis had to physically stop himself by biting his lip. Sal looked over at him and Travis wished he didn‘t. “Sorry“, Travis mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes, or eye since he was pretty sure his other eye never moved before. “I‘m trying to not call people that anymore.“ because all I hear is my father saying it.

“It‘s cool.“ It wasn‘t. “Why are you skipping?“ Travis huffed. It was weird to not let the conversation derail into verbal abuse. “I don‘t know. I fell. Hit my head on the door pretty bad. As you can see.“ Sal just hummed. “That‘s why you‘re limping, too?“ Travis blurted out a “yes“ a little too fast. Why was he nervous? His whole school life already revolved around cover up stories about the strange aches and bruises he got out of nowhere.

“Right.“ Sal let it slide, again. “You‘re acing algebra, Fisher.“ It wasn‘t a question so Sal didn‘t say anything. “Hmm.“ Travis cursed himself for never learning proper social skills but his father didn‘t like him bringing strangers into the house and his teen years were a constant feeling of push and pull of picking fights with boys that sparked an ugly tingle in his belly.

“You need a tutor?“ The silence seemed to be enough for Sal. Fuck him and his open fucking hand. “Maybe.“ Travis flicked a flower with his finger, dismissing the clear offer because his stomach ignited at the fact that Sal didn‘t hate him enough yet. “Maybe there is a tutor in Addisons Appartement, Room 402, who‘s free on the weekend.“ Sal couldn‘t help but smile under his mask as Travis huffed. “Fuck you, Fisher.“

Sal already forgot about his offer when lunch passed and his dad stood in the kitchen, washing their dishes, enjoying the background noise of his son watching TV with his cat. They were so engrossed in the VHS tape Sal put on that he didn‘t hear the door until his dad whistled from the kitchen. “Sally, door.“

“Huh? Oh. Yes, dad.“ He jumped to his feet, leaving Gizmo to the slasher movie he seemed to like. “Weird, Larry said he‘s busy“, Sal mumbled, opening the front door. “Oh.“ It was a knee jerk reaction from Sal because he expected everyone but Travis Phelps to knock at his door and truth be told, he looked like he‘d rather be anywhere else with the way his awkward greeting caught in his throat and died on his tongue as a huff. His eyes followed the way the blue strands hung over Sal‘s shoulders, the mask straps upsetting the smooth texture as a few chunks hung over the elastics. Travis hasn’t seen him with his hair down. He looked smaller in big sweatpants and a band shirt too.

“Travis?“ The boy‘s eyes snapped back to the mask in front of him. “So, algebra?“ Sal tilted his head a smidge. A small habit he picked up to better communicate what would otherwise be shown in his facial features. But it made Travis want to scream for a multitude of reasons as heat crept up his neck. “Obviously.“

Anyone else would‘ve told him to fix his tone or fuck off but Sal held open the door for him. It felt wrong but Travis took the invitation, rubbing his clammy hands on his pants. “Who is it?“, a deeper voice called and Travis almost jumped. He had to remind him this wasn‘t Kenneth. Mr Fisher wasn’t anything like his dad and he didn’t have to be on edge around the boy. “A friend“, Sal replied shortly, only getting an approving hum.

A friend. Did Sal see him as a friend? He couldn‘t dwell on it since he was pulled into the boy‘s bedroom that looked nothing like his. “Just sit anywhere.“ Sal wildly gestured into the room and Travis sat on the barely made bed as Sall dropped his books next to him.

Travis felt like there was something breathing down his neck the entire time they sat on Sal‘s bed. His shirt collar felt like it was about to cinch his neck closed, the dangling cross necklace he kept under his shirt felt hot to the touch like it burned the shape of Jesus into his chest with every sinful thought that crossed his mind as Sal explained the most bland and unerotic subject.

“Travis?“ The boy almost choked on his own spit.

“Romans 1:26-27.“ Travis stumbled over his own words but the verse was engraved into his head after writing and reciting it for a month straight under the stern eye of his father. There was a briefe silence for a moment.

“What?“ Sal looked up from the book in his lap.

“What?“ Travis felt breathless as he stared back at Sal. “Nothing“, he quickly added before Sal could even say anything else. “Explain that again?“ But he didn‘t. Instead, Sal pushed the book off his thigh, still staring the boy down. “Did you really come here for algebra, dude?“ No. “Yes.“ Travis fiddled with the hem of his shirt, not knowing if it was anxiety, anger or just bile scratching against his stomach lining to crawl out of him.

When Sal didn‘t say anything else Travis just reached over the boys lap to take the book himself but there was already a hand pressing against his shoulder. Travis hissed as he pulled his arm back, making Sal pull back just as fast. They stared at each other for a moment before Sal‘s gaze darted to his shoulder. “You fell pretty hard on that door.“ Travis clenched his jaw. “Shut up, Fisher, and back the fuck up.“

The boy shook his head, scooting away an inch. “Listen, you can say no because I would too but I can at least get you ointment for that.“ Sal gestured to his back and shoulder and something in Travis just crumbles as he lets his hands drop into his lap, staring them down to not look at Sal. “Ok. If it gets you off my back you parasite.“

Travis didn‘t plan this when he knocked on the apartment door. He expected to maybe stay 20 minutes before something would make him see red but all he saw was blue. Maybe he was cursed. All these years of plucking out the roots his father couldn’t reach were rendered worthless now that he sat on the rough carpet, holding his shirt up as Sal dug out the ointment.

How did he even get here? His heart beat in his throat when he felt a presence behind him. He felt the need to say something. He wanted to make it clear that this meant nothing to not make it weird but wouldn‘t that make it weirder? Wasn‘t this the same as his mother putting a bandaid on his cuts and whatever herbal mixture on his wounds? It wasn’t because he never felt the sick urge to kiss his mother.

“Ready?“, Sal asked, kneeling behind him with a glob of cool ointment on his index and middle finger. Fucking hell, why did he have to make it weird? He definitely had to say something now.

“It was my dad.“ Travis spoke fast enough to mutter his words but the long pause probably meant that Sal heard him anyway. He wanted to melt into the carpet, leave behind a stain on the boy‘s floor to annoy him just one last time. He didn‘t know what he expected him to say to that and he also didn‘t know why that was the thing he had to say. But Sal made it easy on him by just not answering at all. Instead, he dabbed the cream on the first bruise, making Travis inhale sharply but otherwise biting his tongue. Sal figured that Travis wanted to act tough by not showing that it hurt but actually, Travis didn‘t trust his voice under Sal‘s soft fingertips.

“Travis“, Sal spoke again. Travis wasn‘t sure if he hated the heavy silence more of the fact that Sal was the first to say something while he was rubbing little circles into his back. He didn‘t answer but that never held Sal back.

“Are you gay?“ His voice was so quiet that Travis wouldn‘t have heard it if they sat a little further apart but it had the same effect as screaming it for all of Nockfell to hear. Sal felt him tense up under his touch, already expecting him to jump up or at least yell at him. But neither of them did anything. Sal‘s fingers rested against the heating skin, feeling it rise with every ragged breath he managed to take. “Travis-“

“Fuck, Sal. What? Do you want me to tell you about the times my dad beat the gay out of me or do you prefer that time I wanted to kiss you in that gross fucking bathroom?“, the teen finally barked, letting his words sink in first before he hissed a quiet “shit“. The fingers on his back pulled away as Sal sat on his heels. “You wanted to kiss me?“, Sal repeated, slower than Travis but he just pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes until he saw shapes and felt like the pressure would crush his face. He heard Sal shuffle around the room, probably getting ready to throw him out like he should‘ve done a while ago. But the shuffling stopped in front of him and something told him not to look but cold hands were already on his wrists to peel his cramping hands from his face. Travis opened his eyes just in time to see that mask uncomfortably close but before he could say anything, there was an odd sensation on his lips with minimal pressure. Sal was kissing him and it snuffed the flame in his stomach for just a moment, allowing the torched butterflies to unfold their wings and fly high enough to even make his heart pump overtime. But the feeling was lost just as soon when Sal inched backwards, pulling his prosthetic back in place before Travis could even take any of this in.

“Sorry.“ Sal threw it into the room for Travis to interpret. But the gears in his head threatened to jump out of place already so he reached out to Sal who already flinched backwards, holding onto his mask. “You don‘t want that.“ Sal pushed his hand back a little. “How would you know?“ Travis furrowed his brows at him but he was thankful. He wasn‘t sure if he could take seeing the boy bare like that but he was craving that feeling his father tried to snuff so desperately.

Sal just shook his head as Travis inched closer. “I‘ll close my eyes.“ Now it was Sal‘s turn to hole up in silence, knowing that neither of them could handle the mask coming off. Something made him trust Travis‘ words as he opened the bottom clasp which was the cue for Travis to shut his eyes. He did and seconds later he felt Sal on him again. One hand clamping over his eyes just to make sure and the other fisting the front of his shirt.

This time Travis felt the cleft in Sal‘s lip and the scar tissue ripping up the soft skin. He leaned into the kiss. Where were his hands supposed to go? When Travis didn‘t find the answer his body moved on autopilot. One hand threaded through the surprisingly smooth strands as the other clung to the small of his back.

Travis should‘ve been grossed out by the drool pooling out of Sal‘s torn lip but he wasn‘t. He should be grossed out by Sal being a boy but he wasn‘t. When Sal pulled back he kept his hand over Travis‘ eyes while the other wiped the spit off his chin. The kiss alone was enough to patch up his murky fabric with bright blue strings that dominated the colors his father painted him in. Travis didn‘t know what would happen after high school. Hell, he didn‘t even know what would be tomorrow. But he didn‘t want the bright fibers to unravel him again.

A knock on the door startled both of them, making Sal pull his arm away and Travis rapidly blinking. He didn‘t notice the mangled face first as the unruly blue caught his eye. His hand did that. His heart beat in his throat again as he overheard Sal‘s father say something and Sal shooting a hum of agreement back. His prosthetic was already on his face again before Travis could catch anything besides the scar tissue crawling up his jaw and chin before splitting his lips and exposing teeth and gum.

Maybe blue was his favorite color.

[anonniemousefics]

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing, especially your writings of kanej! Anyway, I would love to see you write something about jealousy from either kaz or inej, I just think it would be interesting to see your take on it! Obviously you don’t have to, I love your work! You’re a great writer!

❤️ Thank you so much!! This was so sweet to receive, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get this to you! So, hopefully you’re cool with this, but I decided to apply this idea in a modern AU because I have another request I’m also working on for a modern AU and this felt like an opportunity for some more practice. 😊 (And it just made it more fun for me -- idk, my brain just needed to do something new with these characters to make this work.) 

Samples - Modern AU

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 3,545

Rating: Teen And Up (Language)

“Who did this?”

All of Kaz’s friends were doubling over in laughter around the round hand-me-down table in Kaz and Jesper’s apartment. There were black and white Cards Against Humanity prompts spread across its surface – the most offensive combination of which had Inej, well, and everyone else, in fits.

What made my first kiss so awkward? had been the prompt Inej had drawn.

To which Kaz had submitted the following, randomly-selected card for her consideration – Announcing that I am about to cum. And then kept his poker face locked in place.

“Who did this?” Inej was demanding again, clutching her stomach.

Kaz wasn’t sure why he was hesitating -- something strange was happening while all of this was playing out. Nina had one hand on Inej’s arm while she was fairly screeching with laughter. Inej was slumping against Jesper, like the laugh was shaking her boneless. In fact, everywhere he looked, he was noticing how they were each exchanging these casual, unconscious touches in the midst of their mirth – Matthias turning his face against Nina’s shoulder, Wylan slapping Jesper’s shoulder.

No one was touching Kaz, though – which, that was good, though, right? That was because they were his friends, and they were thoughtful, and they knew all about The Very Sad Thing that had made him the way that he was.

And yet --

Kaz couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. He should be laughing, though, he realized. A normal person would be laughing, given the infectious nature of laughter. And also it was genuinely a really funny card – that’s why he’d played it. But all he could do was force a smile, and that was it.

He suddenly felt like an alien among them.

“Was it you?!” Inej was exclaiming, waving the card at him. Kaz designed what he hoped was a coy smirk for her.

“Are you saying that’s your favorite?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It was you.” Inej looked appalled, which only made everyone around the table hoot louder. Kaz was still smirking as she threw his winning card back at him with a mischievous, red-faced grin on her face.

“Oh, my God, Brekker.” Nina was wiping the tears off her apple-red cheeks.

“Why does that make it so much worse?” Matthias wondered, since he evidently could never not take a jab at Kaz. He scrubbed his eyes like he needed to wash them out.

And still not a single laugh out of Kaz’s body – this was disturbing. How long had he been this way? And why did he care so much all of a sudden?

“Guys, I’m pretty sure he won,” Wylan was saying, pointing at Kaz’s stack of wins. Had he? Everyone turned to count their cards.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even been paying attention to winning? But Kaz loved winning. It was the only reason he tolerated his roommate hosting these raucous game nights – because it meant Kaz could win things. And usually a lot of things. It was especially choice winning things off of Matthias Helvar, Nina’s latest lughead boyfriend she’d met at the gym, who now had to be invited to everything even though he sucked. He was always cuddling close to Nina, putting his arm around her, whispering gross things in her ear that made her giggle insufferably. It was so fucking uncomfortable.

Kaz never acted that way around Inej, and they’d been together for years. Sort of. Not always officially. It really had only been officially lately, but Kaz had always told himself he wasn’t one to need to put labels on things. Inej knewhow he felt – he knew this. (Did he, though?) He definitely knew this. (No, he didn’t.) There was no need to be like Matthias fucking Helvar and canoodle her in front of everyone on game night.

Oh, God. Kaz was suddenly having a realization, right there in the middle of counting his cards.

Oh, God.

He was jealous of Matthias Helvar.

Oh, this sucked.

This really fucking sucked. Kaz thought no one in their right mind should ever be jealous of that big dumb fuck, with his protein shakes and his weirdly popular fitspo Instagram page. The guy looked like he ate nothing but wild-caught salmon and organic broccoli. He wasn’t funny, and he’d say weirdly spiritual shit at socially unacceptable times. He probably spent his weekends doing annoying, on-brand fuckery like being one with nature and brewing his own kombucha, that asshole.

And this was the guy who felt comfortable enough to kiss a girl’s ear in a total stranger’s apartment. (Well, not a total stranger, Kaz would relinquish that – Nina had been dating Matthias for three months.) Matthias Helvar was doing all that nothing with his life, and he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious.

Ugh. Kaz hated that guy. Worse! Kaz wanted to be that guy. Minus the kombucha and the religious stuff. And the gym membership. And probably the protein shakes.

Ok, fine, Kaz was only interested in the PDA. This was so fucking awful.

“What number were we playing to?” he heard himself ask. He wasn’t even paying attention to card counting. He was going to have to start again.

“Can’t count that high, Brekker?” Matthias asked, smirking, and there was always something Kaz took as halfway serious in the way he tried to joke.

“Die in a fire, Helvar,” he said, with a smile that was as good as a middle finger.

“And on that note!” Nina sung out, standing with a hand on Matthias’ shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. I have an eight a.m. class. We gotta call it a night.”

“Matthias drove us,” Inej explained to Kaz’s questioning look at the word “We.”

Inej and Nina were roommates, too, like Kaz and Jesper, but the two girls lived on campus in the dorms at Ketterdam University, where all but Matthias attended. (Fucking Matthias, who was a personal trainer and got money from wellness companies to tout their shit on his Instagram. Ugh.) Wylan, Jesper’s boyfriend, was also living in the dorms this year, after spending his freshmen year commuting from his dad’s enormous house. Wylan had been the one with the car before Kaz had finally scraped together the money for one, but his dad had cut him off over the summer. Kaz didn’t know much about that beyond what little Jesper had told him, which, in summary, was: goodbye, car; hello, dorm life.

“You should have said something – I could have picked you all up,” Kaz said, mostly to Inej, as the others were standing from the table.

Nina reached a tentative hand out to gently touch his shoulder, well-protected by the fabric of his black v-neck.

“Kaz,” she said, gingerly, “we love you, but Matthias has functioning air conditioning.”

Kaz slid his glance toward Inej, who gave a little confirming nod, pressing back her amused smile.

“My thighs don’t stick to the seats in his car,” she explained, softly, which may as well have been a knife to the gut. He loved driving her around in his car. And, to top it off, she was in a pair of really adorable denim cut offs, her legs deeply tan from the summer sun, and he hadn’t even had the nerve to try to touch her exposed knee all night. (Meanwhile, Hands-On Helvar over here had been sitting with his palm all over Nina’s plentiful thighs all night. God, he was so gross. Couldn’t Kaz be just a little bit gross?)

“Are you okay?” Inej was asking. She was stepping a little closer to him away from where everyone else was putting on shoes, preparing to leave. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her loose, purple crop-top, and her long, dark braid was pulled over her shoulder – just mercilessly cute all over. And he hadn’t touched her all night.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but he kept his hands in his jeans pockets. Inej’s dark brows knit together.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” she checked. Kaz huffed a laugh – how was he supposed to answer that? Realistically, he should lie.

“Probably not,” he admitted anyway, and gave a shrug. Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Nina called to her from the doorway of the apartment.

“Sorry! Eight a.m. class! She’s going to text you from the car anyway!” Nina was shouting.

“She’s not wrong,” Inej shrugged with a smile. And reached out to barely brush her hand against his spine, like the first attempt at a hug. But Kaz could only bunch up his shoulders, hands stuffed deeper into his pockets. Why was he like this?

There were a few more awkward goodbyes at the doorway, including Matthias’ one-more last-minute sales pitch on the recent CBD-infused green powder drink he was hawking online. (“I’ll bring you some samples next week. They say it’s excellent for chronic pain.” Kaz had flipped him off when his back was turned.)

But then, once they’d all gone and the apartment was quiet, Kaz felt like he was rolling in regret.

“You doing ok?” Jesper asked him, gathering up the empty Solo cups for the trash. Jesper was a really good roommate. They’d been randomly assigned the same dorm room at the beginning of freshmen year, and it just worked. Jesper’s high energy plus Kaz’s insomnia were meant to be. They liked all the same things: strong coffee, getting paid dirty money to write other people’s papers for them, and occasionally clearing the mind by playing Call of Duty all night. They’d moved off campus the following year (a better move for the plagiarism operation), never even really having a conversation about whether or not to room with someone else. It was not even a question, and who else would Kaz even want to room with?

“You’ve seemed off all night,” Jesper was pointing out, and if Kaz had half a brain, he knew he should have been asking Jesper for advice about PDA long before it had reached envying-Matthias-Helvar-levels. Jesper and Wylan were normal in public. When they held hands or hugged or traded kisses, it wasn’t some fucking scene.

But how was he even supposed to bring this up to Jesper?

“Helvar’s such a dillweed,” was all he could find to complain. Jesper snorted.

“He is not that bad,” he said, dumping a stack of Solo cups into the trash.

“He’s the literal worst,” Kaz objected. “I can’t believe he unironically called himself an influencer.” And at that, Jesper pretended to barf into the trashcan.

“Yeah, no, you’re right – that was dumb,” he said. “I commend you for not cutting off your own ears when he did.”

“We are not buying his stupid fucking green juice,” Kaz said, pointing at Jesper to show he meant business.

“Good!” Jesper agreed. “Nina says it gives him the shits.”

And that brought Kaz some comfort. He found he could smirk about it while he loaded up the dishwasher. He was starting it up when his phone buzzed on the counter. He leaned over to read it.

Inej: You seemed sad tonight.

Inej’s contact photo in his phone was one he’d snapped when she wasn’t looking – she was leaning her head back with her eyes closed, taking in the sunshine. It had made her brown skin glimmer and dazzle.

Kaz stared at her text for probably too long. Long enough for Jesper to peer around the corner of the kitchen doorway at him.

“I’m going to bed – everything okay?” he said, and cocked his head. “Is it another last minute job?” Those kinds of jobs – the ones where a student was giving up the night before something massive was due – paid the most, but for good reason. They were absolutely fucking miserable to pull off.

“No,” Kaz shook his head. “Just Inej.”

It was never “just Inej” – and Jesper nodded like he knew that.

“Hey, Kaz,” he said, as he began to leave for his bedroom. Kaz looked up at him sidelong as he mouthed, barely audible: “Tell her what’s wrong.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” Kaz rolled his eyes. And heaved a heavy sigh.

And started typing.

Kaz: I guess I was a little.

Whoa, pressing send on that was unpleasant. He wandered over to his preferred recliner in the living room and flopped back in it. Shoved the footrest up to elevate his bad leg. Ugh. Just ugh to everything and everyone. He looked down at his phone again.

And Inej had been quick to respond.

Inej: You can tell me these things, you know.

Inej: I know I won’t always have the right thing to say, but I want to be there for you.

Inej. Why are you being so perfect so far away?

Why are you wasting your time with a boyfriend who struggles to touch you?

Inej: Are you writing a novel?

He’d been writing and rewriting the same sentence twenty different times. She’d probably been looking at those ominous three bobbing dots for way too long.

Ugh. God. Fine. Kaz drew in a long deep breath, staring up at the ceiling like it could intervene and come to his aid. And then fucking wrote.

Kaz: I wish things were different

Kaz: I wish I wasn’t so fucked

Kaz: I wish I knew how to be a better boyfriend – how to make you blush and laugh and make that one smile that’s like you’re telling secrets with your eyes

He pushed the recliner back as far as it would go. Maybe it would tip and dump him on his head and he’d have to go to the hospital, and that would at least delay Inej inevitably breaking up with him for being this pathetic wet blanket. The phone buzzed again, and he almost didn’t want to look.

Inej: Um, where were you all night? You literally had me doing all those things all night

Huh. That wasn’t how he remembered it.

Kaz: On the opposite side of the table from you

Kaz: Watching basically everyone else be able to touch you but me

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That sounded so petulant, and he’d already pressed send. That sounded so needy and disgusting. Who said that kind of shit? Not even Matthias Helvar said that kind of shit. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. No, out the window. No, out into the sea.

Now he was on the receiving end of the three bobbing dots of doom. Fuuuuck.

Kaz: Can we just forget I said that?

More dots. Then nothing.

Then dots.

Inej: I don’t know. You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.

At that, Kaz raised his eyebrows.

Kaz: I am not jealous.

Inej: You’re a little jealous

Kaz: No, I feel insufficient.

(Oooof. That was like trying to throw an anvil. Painful.)

Inej: Oh

Kaz was watching the texts come in from beneath his arm now, holding the phone high over his head. Like watching the slasher scenes in a horror movie.

Inej: I mean

Inej: It seems like you’re just splitting hairs here

Inej: Since you must think others are sufficient in ways you are not, so you envy them

…

Kaz: Touche, Ghafa.

And he couldn’t help smiling to himself when Inej sent him a gif of a swashbuckling cartoon Robin Hood brandishing a sword. Then another text bubble appeared.

Inej: You are not insufficient to me, Kaz.

He really wanted to believe that.

Kaz: Even if I’m not hanging all over you and amassing a truly staggering number of Instagram followers with my six-pack abs?

Inej: O.M.G.

Inej: Kaz

Inej: Brekker

Oh, God, what had he done?

Inej: Are you *jealous* of Matthias?

Uggghh, he was going to be sick.

Kaz: Fuck no

Kaz: It was just a hypothetical

Kaz: It was an exaggeration

Kaz: I could do the same thing with any one of our friends

Kaz: And we all know the abs are photoshopped anyway

Inej: OMG

Kaz: What now

Inej: You called Matthias our friend

Kaz wanted to stab himself in the brain.

Inej: I’m gonna tell him

Kaz: Don’t you fucking dare

Inej: I already did

Kaz: What? How? How are you that fast?

Inej: Still in the car

Kaz: ????

There was no reason for that – the dorms were hardly a 10-minute drive. Now Kaz’s brain was assaulting him with a thousand reasons things his girlfriend could still be doing in a car (A nice car! With working air conditioning!) with a personal trainer/amateur Instagram model, and none of them were pleasant or welcome thoughts. The phone buzzed again.

Inej: I asked him to bring me back to you. :)

At that, Kaz straightened the recliner, rising to his feet as fast as his stiff leg would allow.

Kaz: You did? And he did? Why?

He was limping toward the front door.

Inej: Because he’s not terrible, Kaz. And because I guess I missed your car after all ;)

Jesper and Kaz’s apartment was the third floor of a wonky old Victorian home that had once been something grand and only recently had been split into three different abodes – which was definitely the worst decision the two of them had made as roommates. Kaz was leaning hard against the railing as he took to the steps when the front door of the building banged shut below. And then there on the landing below was Inej, wearing a sheepish smile in the yellow, buzzing fluorescence of the hall light. She was holding her phone in one hand, her tan leather purse slung across her slim body.

“I thought you looked like you could use a hug,” she said, as she pocketed her phone.

Kaz took the last two stairs carefully, coming to stand in front of her. She smelled like vanilla and coconut oil – like something he wanted to wake up to every morning.

“You came all the way back for a hug,” he wanted to clarify. His hands – he should do something with his hands. What would Matthias do with his hands?

No. What do I want to do with my hands?

So, he looped a couple fingers through her belt loops. Tugged her a little closer. And she smiled.

“Technically,” she said, “Matthias came all the way back so I could bring you some samples.” She patted her purse, which did look a little bulkier. “They were in his car the whole time.”

“Mmmm.” He pretended to look tantalized. “Hot car samples. Delicious.”

Inej was twisting her fingers in the t-shirt fabric at the crest of his hips. Tugging him a little closer, too. God, it was so good. She’d been so right. He had wanted a hug.

“I know that’s how I want my protein powder,” she teased. “Piping hot, right out of the oven.”

“Just how Ma used to make it,” Kaz added, with a good bit of feigned nostalgia. Inej blurted out a laugh, tipping forward until her forehead bumped his sternum.

At that first brush, it was like his hands knew what to do from there. They slipped around her waist while her hands slid around his. And she pressed her cheek against his chest while he held her close.

“You are not insufficient,” Inej said against him.

“I would really like to pretend that never happened,” he said with a sigh, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Too late,” she hummed, happily, and gave him a light squeeze. He smiled against her hair.

“You know I wouldn’t want you to be like Matthias, right?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t even want Matthias to be like Matthias,” Kaz grumbled.

“Hey,” and Inej pulled back to look up at him with her big, soft brown eyes. “I mean it. I just want you to be you. I don’t want all the handsy stuff. That’s what Nina likes. I just like you.”

Kaz carefully pushed back a few strands of her hair from her forehead.

“Not even a little handsy stuff?” he checked, which made Inej give her coy little smirk, his very favorite.

“Maybe a little handsy stuff,” she said.

If there were ever going to be a time to kiss her, it would be now. But when he thought it, Kaz felt his heart make an enormous leap into his throat, seizing in panic. If he touched her mouth with his, if he closed his eyes and felt her face so close to his, would he just end up floundering in The Very Sad Thing again? What if it happened while he was kissing her? Would every kiss after that be tainted? Could he risk it – could he ever?

So, he didn’t move to meet her lips. He let his hands fall to the small of her back, though, and kept her close for another moment. Like a sample of physical affection, and she seemed okay with that. He would will himself to believe it was not insufficient.

“Drive me home?” she asked after a moment, with a kind of sweet, eager anticipation that made Kaz believe in magic. He nodded, of course.

“I’ll go up and get my keys,” he said. “And you throw away those samples.”

Inej laughed, following him up.

“Deal,” she said.

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

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

[elytrafemme]

*Enters through previously broken window*

So, just finished chapter 20 and there is three big takeaways:

Everyone is fucking depressed

HOLYSHITFUNDYHOLYSHIT

haha ranboo gay lol hehehe

Seriously though this chapter had several emotional ups and downs, as well as your best writing yet, so imma get into it

The imagery in the chapter went so fucking hard. The descriptions of spring and winter were amazing obviously, and all the ocean and religious stuff too was just so intense and I felt that through my bones. But the descriptions when talking about ranboo's gender identity was just- ohmygod... As someone who had a gender crisis this past couple years and came out of it with the nb label, the internal struggle that Ranboo describes felt so real. The internalized guilt plus the use of repitition? Beautiful. All made me feel so wonderfully pained.

Next onto beeduo! Now how did you have me literally go from, "aww haha married lol" to "RANBOO YOU IDIOT NO-" in the same chapter? Anyway, the banter they had on the phone call was not only adorable, but highlighted ranboo's general confusion with romanticism so nicely, two birds with one stone, and him immediately wanting to assure Tubbo he would marry him as to not lower his self esteem (further) like omg he's such an idiot, I love him. Beeduo care so much and also I was so sad when Tubbo tried to reach out to him in the church, to let him help, but Ranboo has internalized any and all of his problems to not be worth the time because he isn't worth it either and is heartbreaking read.

Then, the elephant in the room, Fundy and Ranboo. Oh my fucking god, stars in heaven, angels above, Fundy and Ranboo. This has already got me so hyped, because the imagery used in this section alone was some of (if not the best) instance of a mental spiral that I've ever read in a fic. You can already tell how deep this goes even if we can't see the bottom of the pool yet, and I'm very excited for where you're gonna take this!

And finally, I want to talk about an unsung hero in this chapter. Quackity and Ranboo. I know they only share a brief moment, but it really felt like two dead and broken souls feeling at their lowest crossing paths, and the mood sent me.

I decided to read this chapter out loud for no reason in particular, and you must've wrote those emotions damn well because I was feeling rather empathetic reading the lines (and possibly shed a few years again) so you are on a streak of my pain.

I'm so excited for what will come to us in two weeks time, and I just know it will be great. Your writing transports me into the characters and you understand everything to such an insane degree of detail!!

Thank you for the write as usual mare, I want you to know that you're genuinely one of my favorite authors on this whole cursed website and you just keep getting better!

And with that, have a good rest of your day <333

HI :D

yeah that's a pretty good summary of the chapter LMFAO

ohhh it means a lot that you liked my writing in this chapter, big fan of metaphors though i sometimes get a little carried away so i'm really happy you liked them :D and YEAH, i'll be honest and say that i did not have the same experience that cs!ranboo has with his gender discovery but i really am happy to hear people connected with it because that's the goal, y'know? it means i've done a pretty decent job writing it :)

i am SO happy people liked the cs!beeduo in this chapter and that people liked the phone call scene :] the two of them really care about each other and their banter is difficult to balance because they're both a little terrified of going Too Far (how many times can Tubbo call Ranboo pretty light-heartedly before Ranboo starts finding him weird? can Ranboo jokingly say he wants to marry Tubbo and sort of half mean it and that not be weird either? how much can you talk about the future with someone when you don't even know them that well? ETC) the church scene is one i have a lot of thoughts on too, i'll talk about it more in later chapters but it symbolizes a lot more for cs!beeduo's relationship than has been shown thus far

thank you so much holy shit, i was REALLY worried about my writing in the fundy section. i literally, like, went back and edited it maybe 6 separate times, sometimes while i was at school sometimes while i was at home and it was like 11 PM etc., because i REALLY wanted it to hit. so that's like, the best thing i could be hearing about it, thank you so much :D

quackity and ranboo share a lot of things in common, but most notably, how much they care about tubbo & how they feel helpless in their own life.

i'm so happy that the chapter hit hard for you emotionally and that you liked it so much. the fact that i could be one of someone's favorite authors in a fandom with so many incredible ones is absolutely crazy to me and i'm so so grateful for you and your support. i hope your day is fantastic <333

[taylorinthetardis]

Wallflowers - A Henry Cavill x Reader fic

So I did a thing! Rather than continue to work on my larger, more complicated Pride and Prejudice fic, I decided to make a fanfic out of the fantasy I had at work the other day!

There will most likely be a part two to this, I just thought I was at a good stopping point and wanted to see what you guys thought about it.

Full disclosure: I didn’t mean for this to whole ass turn into a Bath and Body Works ad, but it kinda did. For those of you reading in countries that do not have Bath and Body Works, its basically just a body and home care store. In the US their scents are legendary. Pretty much every young girl went through a BBW phase where that was all they used for soap and perfume. That all being said, in the interest of further disclosure and covering my ass, I own neither Bath and Body Works nor any of the trademarks on the scents listed herein. I also do not own Henry Cavill because owning human beings is a crime.

This is my first Henry fic so be gentle with me! It’s a bit longer than I had anticipated and un-beta’d.

Warnings: just a lot of fluff. some self-deprecation. loads of swearing. don’t know if I should warn for slight bashing of the religious but I will anyway so no one gets mad at me.

Wallflowers

It was shaping up to be another boring ass day at Bath and Body Works. I had started working here during the Pandemic after I was laid off from my job at the movie theatre. I had planned on it only being temporary, but even after things got better and I got my theatre job back, I decided to stick around. What can I say; a bitch is broke. Nothing wrong with double-dipping.

There was something about Sunday mornings in the mall. Probably because people around here still went to church in the mornings. Like it matters. Sunday mornings are always so slow, here and at the theatre, but the day always picks up after 1, when morning church services finish. It was me and Samantha up in the front room this morning, working out the leftover boxes from yesterday’s shipment. She was one of the first people I really bonded with here, both of us being super into both Marvel and DC, specifically Sebastian Stan and Henry Cavill. They had just started filming the next Superman movie and they were going to be shooting scenes up in Michigan again, like they had for Dawn of Justice.

“I’m just saying, we should really consider asking for a few days off and just going up there and scoping it out. I mean, it’s Henry fucking Cavill. He’s less than an hour away from us. Right now. Less than an hour. When is that ever gonna happen again? I can use some of my vacation time at the theatre, so at least I’m not missing out on money from them. It’ll be a blast. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We don’t see him? I mean at least we’d have tried. I’d rather try than stay down in stupid Ohio with the knowledge that he’s that close.”

“Do you really think Ann’s going to give us time off to stalk Superman?”

“We ain’t gonna tell her what it’s for! Just lie, c’mon now.” I laughed. I dropped a box of Gingham body cream into the understock drawer and broke the box down. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement, oh goodie, a customer. Samantha was quicker to greet them.

“Welcome to Bath and Body… OH MY GOD!” I turned around and was met with the sight of none other than Henry fucking Cavill, sheepishly running his hand through his now jet-black curls, obviously embarrassed at having been recognized. Damn, am I glad I put make-up on this morning. Alright Y/N, this is your fucking chance. For once in your damn life, be fucking cool. You can do this. You look good, you smell like Champagne Toast, you’ve got this. I pulled my hair down from its messy bun and shook it out a bit before walking over to where Samantha was still trying to collect herself. The store radio started playing Halsey’s Bad at Love and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the situation we were now in. Not five minutes ago we were talking about seeking him out and now here he was in all his brick-shithouse-ness. I looped my arm through Samantha’s in a show of support.

“What a wonderful coincidence! We were just talking about you and now here you are! It’s crazy how the universe works, isn’t it? I’m Y/N, this is Samantha; what can we help you with today, Henry?” I smiled my most adorable smile at him, the one that makes my little cheek dimple pop out, and, honestly, they both looked shocked. Samantha was clearly surprised that I was more capable of speech than she was, and to be honest so was I, and Henry seemed shocked that I would openly admit that we had been talking about him before he got there, which probably wasn’t a great thing to say, but I panicked.  

“Well, I was told this was the best place to go for candles and air freshener-y type things. The house I’m renting just has this odd odour that I can’t get rid of. I’ve been airing it out during the day, all the windows open, and I come home and it still smells funky. I know I could just find a different place, but it’s close to a park and that’s been nice for Kal and I don’t want to make a fuss, so…” Henry sort of shrugged, the buttons on his plaid shirt straining with the movement of his broad shoulders, and gestured around the store as if to say “that’s why I’m here”.

“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place. All of our home care is in the second room, grab a basket, I’m sure we can find you some scents you’ll like.” He walked over to the basket tower to grab one as a couple more customers walked in. Samantha nudged me towards the second room; I was going to have to handle Henry alone for now, it seemed. He followed me over to the Wallflower wall. “So, these are our Wallflowers. They’re sort of like the Glade Plug-ins, I don’t know if you’ve seen those, you plug this diffuser into any power outlet and screw the fragrance bulb in and it diffuses the scented oil into the room. They last for about a month or so. These’ll probably be the best option for you, well these and maybe a room spray or two to start with. The candles are good, but obviously the scent is gonna be strongest when they’re burning and it’s probably not a great idea to light a bunch of candles and then leave for the whole day.”

He chuckled. “No, I’d say you’re right about that. I definitely don’t want to burn the place to the ground. Are there any scents that you’d recommend?”

“Well, I mean, it obviously all depends on your personal preferences. I like sweet scents. I like my space to be smelling like a bakery or a candy shop at all times, so I tend to go for anything like that. We actually still have some of our holiday scents that we’re trying to get rid of and there’s this really great one in that line called Spiced Apple Toddy. It smells like apple pie. I love it. It’s only out during fall and winter so I stocked up. I need it all year long, honestly. I still have so many other scents at home, but like I’m probably never gonna get sick of it, for real, it smells so good. Or I might go every other month swapping between that and Black Cherry Merlot because that’s awesome too. And then there’s Champagne Toast, I mean, that one might be a bit too feminine for you, but I love it. It’s sweet and just a tiny bit citrusy. I can’t do any of the floral or like, outdoorsy scents, they set my allergies off. And honestly there’s some of these that I smell them and I’m like, who is putting this in their house? Like, what nutjob thinks this scent is good? How many people have senses of smell that are this screwed up?” At this point I was rambling, talking excitedly and with my hands, handing him testers to smell and trying to gauge his reactions to know what to hand him next. He didn’t have any bad reactions to anything I gave him until I handed him the tester for Fresh Balsam. His nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and he very carefully set the tester down on the counter as far from him as he could manage. He handled my word-vomit good-naturedly, with a small smile on his face, nodding and chuckling when he thought something I had said was funny. Our fingers brushed a few times as I handed him the testers and after the third time, I began to feel like it was deliberate on his part, but it couldn’t have been, could it? He couldn’t really be interested in me. He’s Henry Cavill. I’m just, well, I’m just me.

Me, with my two minimum wage jobs, still living with my parents, inching ever closer to 30 years old. Why would he want any of that? Why would he be interested in me physically either? I mean, he’s literally flawless and I’m short, overweight, I eat like shit, I don’t exercise, hell, I barely know how to put on make-up correctly. Yeah, I look good today, but that’s not par-for-the-course.    

He put a few each of Cinnamon & Clove Buds, Black Cherry Merlot, Limoncello (for the bathrooms, he said), and Laundry Day (for the laundry room, obviously) in his basket along with enough of the plugs so he’d have one in each room. He also grabbed a Black Cherry Merlot and a Limoncello room spray off the shelf next to the Wallflower display before turning back to me. “So then, where do you keep this Spiced Apple Toddy that you like so much, or did you hide them so you could have them all to yourself?”

I chuckled nervously and ran my hand through my hair, sort of disbelieving that he was actually paying attention to what I had said. Boys never listen to me when I talk, I always have to repeat myself, but I guess that’s because I usually end up talking to the dumb ones. Henry’s not dumb. He really is just fucking perfect, isn’t he? Pretty and he listens? That shouldn’t be such a difficult combination to find, but for me it had been. “They’re on the table over here with the rest of our leftover Christmas stuff. Hopefully the tester is still there somewhere.” I put my hands in my apron pockets and I could feel the jolt of confidence I had had just minutes before leaving my body. His charm had worn me down, bringing me back to my normal, anxiety-ridden self. I caught the toe of my boot on the corner of one of the other tables as we walked towards the center of the room. I stumbled, but before I could fall his arm was already out to steady me, wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.

“Are you alright Y/N?” A look of genuine concern was on his face and I swear to God I swooned. Like, fuck, I just stubbed my stupid toe, it’s not that serious. I mean yeah, I stubbed my toe and then almost fell into a table covered with candles in glass holders, but like, I didn’t fall, you caught me, please stop looking at me like you care. You can’t give me that much hope. It isn’t fair. And goddamnit I love the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth. Like, fuck it’s never sounded so good. This isn’t fair, why is this happening?

“Yeah, Henry I’m fine, just a stubbed toe. Thank you for…you know.” I gestured down to his arm, which was still around my waist. The sound of me bumping into the table drew the attention of the rest of my co-workers, however, who were now coming out of their various positions to see what was going on and to make sure no one had broken anything. Samantha popped her head in from the front room and Kelynn and Mira came out from the cashwrap with Pilar and walked to the edge of the third room to peek in. All they saw was me, blushing profusely, with Henry Cavill’s beefy-ass arm still wrapped around my fucking waist. “Everything’s fine guys. I promise.”

“Holy shit, is that…”

“Mira!”

“But Kelynn that’s fucking Superman!”

“You can’t cuss in front of him Mira, he’s a customer!”

“Will you guys cut it out? You’re embarrassing us in front of the hunky British dude!”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we all pretend like this isn’t happening right now? Pilar can go back to the cashwrap, you two can go back to whatever it was you were doing, and I’ll go back to what I was doing, namely making a damn sale!” I extricated myself from Henry’s grasp so I could shoo them back towards the cashwrap. They turned and walked away, bewildered looks on their faces. I turned back to Henry who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his curls, leaving them messier than they were before. An errant one fell over his forehead and I wanted to brush it out of the way, but he just left it.

I walked over to the table that I was originally heading for and found the Spiced Apple Toddy Wallflowers. There wasn’t that many left, but there was still a tester. I grabbed it and spun around to bring it to him, assuming he hadn’t followed me, but as I turned, I found myself going face first into his massive chest. I put my unoccupied hand up to steady myself and pushed on his chest to force him back. He was just too close. Why was he so close? He opened his mouth to say something but I beat him to it. “Here. This is what I have in my bedroom right now, this is Spiced Apple Toddy.” Oh god, why did I say it like that? The one I have in my bedroom. Jesus Christ. He quirked his eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side, smirking a little. Instead of taking the tester from me, he took my much smaller hand in his, guiding it up towards his face so the tester was close to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A serene smile spread across his face and I felt my face get hotter. He opened his eyes, looking down into mine. Fuck I could drown in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, I like that very much. You were right. I think that one’s my favourite.”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Seven

Words: 4.5k

Warning(s): explicit language, sexual situations, drug abuse, violence

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NIKKI

"Nikki, what the hell are you doing?" Vivian asks me as we walk down the stairs of the law firm. 

"I've broken every fuckin' vow except 'till death do us part' and I'll be fucked to hell if we stuck it out and stayed with each other after the worst bullshit just to fucking divorce." I state and she stays quiet for a moment before I'm stumbling back when she halts and snatches away from me, glaring up at me. 

"What if I want a divorce?" She asks. 

"I'd tell you you're full of shit." I snap and she raises a brow and crosses her arms. 

"Then what the hell was the point of hounding me for a divorce just to do this?!" She barks at me. 

"To prove a point I guess, I don't fucking know." I admit. 

"To prove a point?! What point were you trying to prove?! That even when we're not together you still have the control in the relationship?!" She yells.

"I don't have any fucking control in this relationship, are you fucking me?! I haven't had any control since day fucking one, Vivian!" 

"Are you fucking serious?!" She screams at me, frustration all over her face. "You have always had control, Nikki, trust me, I know, I'm the one that had to lay down and take your bullshit and give up what I wanted to do just so you'd feel in control!"

"I told you to go to fucking New York to go to school, did I not? What the hell did you do? You stayed! You can't get pissed at me for not giving you what you supposedly think I promised you!" 

"No, Nikki, I'm not pissed at you for not giving me what you promised--I'm pissed because you've given me years of fucked up shit that was never supposed to even be a part of the plan!" She has tears in her eyes, her voice shaking…

She's right. I'm not going to tell her she's wrong…

I sigh and rub the back of my neck, exhaling, as she wipes her eyes. 

"...Look, me and the guys are going to a different rehab, and I'll actually stick with it, and I want to work this out." I tell her, honestly. "I just don't know how to come back from the shit we've done to each other, Viv, but if we can figure out how, then I wanna do it." 

She doesn't say anything, looking at me with her pretty green eyes, nodding slightly. 

I didn't realize that once we agreed to work on our marriage, that all hell would break loose in the midst of repairing the damage. 

Me and the guys, except Mick, were sent to another rehab because the first one was too obnoxious, and by the second one, we were actually getting somewhere with each other as a band and individually, including the people closest to us in our lives. For me, that was Vivian.

My leg can't stop shaking as I repeatedly tap my foot, waiting for my counselor to get in and meet Vivian for the first time.

I exhale and glance at her, her red hair curled, reaching just over her boobs, long legs taken up by black stockings that have lace trim mid-thigh, just peeking out from under her black dress, black heels tapping quietly on the floor, her dark red nails standing out against the cover of the shitty crossword she's flipping through. Her perfume has the whole little area she's in smelling good and her red lips rub together for a moment as she doesn't even notice me staring at her. 

It's a Saturday and I'm assuming she's going out with Sharise or something when she leaves here, or she dressed like this to torture me, knowing I haven't had sex in nearly two months, starting in Japan back in December, and my right hand is my best friend currently. 

My fucking balls hurt as she shifts her legs, uncrossing them to cross them the opposite, now. 

If it were up to me they'd be wide open and either around my hips or my head. 

I keep my hand pressed to my lips, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair, focused on her.

I slide down in my chair a little to try to see what kind of panties she's wearing--if she's wearing any at all. 

It wouldn't surprise me if she's not wearing any at all. Just to fuck with my head like she loves to do. 

"Take a picture and it'll last longer." She tells me flatly, not taking her eyes off the book. 

"I would if I had a camera." I don't even deny staring at her and she flicks her gaze to me. "Or a video camera. That'd be better." I add. 

"Ha. Ha." She sarcastically lets out and I smirk, watching her get up to grab her purse from the empty chair adjacent to me, leaning down to dig through it. 

It takes everything in my power not to get behind her, bend her over it, slide her panties to the side and start poun--

"We're here to start the process of fixing things between us and you're here only focused on sex." She states and I snap out of it. 

"No, I'm not." I argue, furrowing my brows. 

"Nikki, I know when you're picturing having sex with me." 

"I'm always picturing having sex with you." I state. "And you know exactly what you're doing." 

The faintest, smallest little grin comes to her lips as she goes to sit down again. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." She mumbles and I look at her. 

"You're cruel." I mumble and she rolls her eyes. 

"Oh, whatever." She replies. 

"You look hot." 

"Shut up." 

"We can be done in ten seconds." I say next and she goes red. 

"Stop, Nikki!" She scolds me.

"C'mon, Viv, we've never fucked on a desk before." I point out. 

"We've broken into Doc's office just to mess around on his desk, Nikki." She reminds me. 

"Well, we've never fucked on a therapist's desk, so c'mon, it'll be quick."

"I--" she starts laughing, not believing me, "--am not having sex in a rehab facility. I'm not that horny." 

"So you admit you are horny to some degree, though." I say and she rolls her eyes. 

"Shut up."

"Just flash me or something." 

"Nikki."

"Please?"

"You're so weird." She ignores my request while I'm pinching the bridge of my nose. 

"I'm in pain, Vivian." I say next, groaning, exaggerating. 

"Sounds like a personal problem." 

"Fuck." I lean my head back, rubbing my face. 

The door opens and my counselor comes in, smiling at us. 

"Sorry, I'm late." She says, stepping to Vivian, extending her hand. "I have heard lots about you, I'm Amber." 

"Vivian. It's nice to meet you." Vivian replies, smiling her shiny smile that should win her an Oscar because she wears it so well even when she's fucking miserable--I obviously know from experience. 

Amber sits behind her desk as Vivian sits back down in the chair, and she looks up from her paperwork at us, raising her brows. 

"If we're going to start this grueling process, I highly suggest you two get comfortable being within three feet of each other, again." She adds.

Me and Vivian exchange looks, before she sighs and stands up, walking to the little couch I'm sitting on, plopping down beside me. 

I smirk to myself, looking at her from the side of my eye. 

"Okay, let's just get to it, Vivian, I've gotten a brief history of your husband, and I feel as though I can sort of, kind of, pin point a thing or two that has lead to the point that you two are at currently, but I'd really like to learn a little bit about you because all that's portrayed publicly to all of us is he's this nitty gritty, abrasive rock God, and you're the angel that tamed him to settle down." She explains and Vivian scoffs, raising her brows. "I know it sounds ridiculous but that's what's given in magazines and pictures taken of you two." 

"Yeah." Vivian nods. 

"And I don't think that's true, I don't think everything is happy and sunshine and, 'oh, we're opposites but that's what we love about each other,' and blah, blah, or else neither of you would be here admitting your marriage is in shambles...so, becoming familiar with Nikki--sober--the way that I have the past week gives me a sense of who he really is without the drugs and the cameras and the fans and the girls, because in here he's only got himself. He doesn't have to upkeep the persona he puts on to make it seem like everything's perfect. And, although you aren't a patient here, I really want you to allow yourself to just be and differentiate between who you are to the public, and who you are privately, because--from what I've heard--they're two completely different people." She says next and Vivian nods. "So, who is Vivian Kinston and how did she get together with Nikki Sixx?" She offers a warm smile and Vivian exhales, already looking overwhelmed…"In three descriptions, who were you when you met Nikki?" 

"A very religious, ballet dancing, perfectionist." Vivian says and Amber nods. 

"Let's dissect that and break it down for a moment." She says next. "Okay, religious--was that on your own or passed through your family or…?"

"Both of my parents, but mainly my mom." She replies and Amber nods. 

"Okay, and what is mom like?" 

"Very strict Christian, we couldn't have anything secular in the house...I'm not sure what she's like now but when I last saw her she had the pastor I grew up with trying to exorcise a demon from me because she found out I was engaged to Nikki." She tells her and Amber's brows shoot up. 

"When was that?" 

"'82, '83, around that time." Vivian explains. 

"So you haven't seen mom in close to six years." 

"Yeah." 

"Okay...you were a ballet dancer when you met," she starts the next point. 

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Since I can remember." Vivian informs her. 

"So, a strict Christian upbringing, and a very, very, intricate form of dance that requires a lot of discipline, since you were probably a toddler." 

"Yeah." 

"And is that where the perfectionism comes in, through your background with dance?"

"No." 

"No, okay."

"My mom and my upbringing." Vivian explains. "Anytime I did something my mom didn't like or approve of or thought other people would lose their minds over if they knew I was doing it, she'd get onto me and would constantly drill into my head, 'this is not what we do, Vivian'." 

"Wow." Amber nods, her brows slightly furrowed. "So, it doesn't come from a place of that physical drive to be perfect at most things you do, it comes from a mental and emotional drive of not wanting people to know what skeletons are in the closet that would make them think less of you." 

Vivian nods, taking a deep breath. 

"Okay, and do you think that sense of perfectionism from your mother has helped you or harmed you in the long run?" 

"Harmed." She's saying it nearly before Amber can get her words out of her mouth. 

"And why is that?" 

"Because I grew up with her holding me to a nearly unreachable standard, and hounding unrealistic expectations onto me." 

"And in turn…"

"...It's made me do the same to him." Vivian says and I stare at the floor. 

"What unrealistic expectations, or unreachable standard have you held him to?" 

"Not doing the things that he's done." She says next. 

"What things?" 

"Infidelity and drug and alcohol addiction." 

"Why is expecting your husband not to cheat on you or put drugs and alcohol before you an unrealistic expectation that is unattainable for him?" Amber asks next and I rub my lips together. 

"Because of who he is and what he does." Vivian says next and Amber raises her brows. 

"So you think because he's Nikki Sixx--big time rockstar--that it's not realistic to expect him to do what he is supposed to do as your husband which is stay faithful and not put substances before you?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh, I see." Amber looks at me and I sigh. "Was your relationship ever open or polygamous, during or prior to marriage?" 

"No." She shakes her head. 

"Was he addicted to anything when you got married?"

"He did drugs and drank but at that point in time he didn't have a heavy reliance on it, no."

"An unrealistic expectation would be you telling him he can sleep with other women but then you getting angry every time he did. That's setting an unrealistic expectation of, 'I'm giving you permission to indulge in sex with other women but I expect you not to,' or him being addicted to heroin when you got married and you expecting him to drop any addiction he has solely based on the fact that you two got married. That's an unrealistic expectation. Him being a famous rock musician has nothing to do with his ability, or lack thereof, to be monogamous and sober." She explains to Vivian. "So you wanting your husband to not have an affair and not get strung out was not an unrealistic expectation that you had in a moment of naivety." She assures her.

"Okay." Vivian sounds like she's been waiting to hear that for a while…

"And I believe the issues you two are facing the most from both Nikki, and yourself, have grown from the root of how you two think. I know we hear the saying, 'opposites attract,' but we don't think about how sometimes when people are too opposite it acts like hot and cold air when it mixes and if it's in a big enough whirl, or big enough of a spectrum, it creates a tornado or a hurricane." She says next. "Religion equals a sense of morality, your history with ballet equipped you with a fair amount of discipline, and that perfectionism that you spoke on is your way of caring so much about what others think of you, you sacrifice yourself and just smile to keep things looking amazing on the outside."

Vivian nods. 

"I asked him to describe you in three words, and he said, 'beautiful, depressed, belligerent'." She tells her and I slowly see tears coming to Vivian's eyes. "Nikki admitted to me that when he met you, he had no sense of morality, he was doing whatever he wanted, when he wanted, he had no discipline in terms of controlling himself around drugs and women, and he couldn't give less of a care about what people thought of him." She explains. "And that might even been fun and exciting when you were just starting out but once you're married and he's gotten all these eyes on him suddenly, there are expectations put on the both of you to be this couple who has everything, and you're both attractive, and he's the bad boy and you're the good girl and you just fell in love is the only explanation you have for making the relationship work to the point of wanting to get married and you have a great house and matching cars and all this and all that and you're in the press smiling and laughing and holding hands and hugging up on each other and oh, it's a wonderful life, but as soon as you get alone…" she trails off, looking at the both of us knowingly. "He's high, you're suffering, and both of you are living a hell. But nobody can know that because you're Nikki and Vivian Sixx. You two are perfect because he doesn't cheat on you like other rockstars do to their wives and girlfriends. He doesn't put drugs and alcohol before you like so many others do to their girlfriends and their wives. He doesn't turn into this monster you don't recognize and lash out like a dog at you after a night of sitting in his closet and shooting up, because he 'loves' you, and you don't have to keep quiet for years while it just keeps adding up and adding up until finally you beat on your husband and those around you over minuet instances because the big things you were probably justified to get that angry over were swept under the rug and were never dealt with for years--because that's not what you do." She ties it right back to Vivian's mother. 

A tear rolls down Vivian's cheek, neither of us expecting it to be this heavy just during her introduction to Viv. 

"If we don't stop that mentality, it's going to poison every relationship around you that it hasn't already and when you have children it's going to be a curse on them just like it's a curse on you." She tells her, as Viv sniffles, trying to keep up with wiping her tears away. "I've already been on him about his upbringing burdening him, so please don't think this is a personal attack on you."

Viv nods, mouthing, "okay."

"You two want to make this relationship better and be better for one another, we are going to have to tear down six years worth of walls and blockades and gut this entire thing completely and start again. It's not going to be easy, you're probably going to learn things about each other you've been hiding and maybe even amicably decide to divorce before it's all over with, but you are both going to heal and start the process of forgiveness. With yourselves, with your parents, with your friends, and with each other."

She gives the both of us some homework...

"I want you two to prepare to tell each other everything you've not told one another for next time we meet." Amber tells us and the color drains from Viv's face, I know for a fucking fact that I don't look much different from her.

"What?" Vivian asks her.

"If we're healing this relationship we need everything in the dark in the light so we aren't building on an old foundation of secrets." She states. Vivian just nods hesitantly before we're dismissed.

"Vivian." I stop her out in the hall before she can leave, grabbing gently at her wrist.

"Yeah?" She asks me. 

"I love you." I tell her and she looks at me, smiling a little. 

"I'll see you Wednesday." She replies, squeezing my hand before she walks away. 

What the hell? I tell her and I love her and she just fucking says, "I'll see you Wednesday'?" 

I watch as she goes down the hall, heels clicking, hair down her back…

Goddamn. 

This is definitely my payback for taking my time with her for granted, because now that I'm in my right mind and not ruining our marriage, she barely even looks at me. 

At least she was actually wanting to work things out, because after the Vanity bullshit, I thought we'd never make it out after the first time I saw her since it had happened.

July 1987

I brace myself against the bathroom wall as my whole body goes numb for a moment, my eyes rolling momentarily. 

"Sixx, c'mon, we gotta get goin', Viv's here!" Fred yells from behind the door, his fist beating at it. 

Fuck him. Fuck this tour. Fuck this band. Fuck everything right now. 

Viv's just got here from the airport, she flew back in earlier this morning and I've been hiding, completely avoiding her, but I can't anymore. 

The media's in a frenzy since Vanity aired all of our dirty laundry, only making Viv and I both on edge even more. 

We've been denying the shit out of Vanity's engagement claims, but I don't think people are buying it as much as we'd like to think they are. 

I take in a breath and stumble to the mirror, looking at myself. 

Not too bad for a low down, dirty, bastard. 

Opening the bathroom door to see where Fred's waiting for me, I glance past his shoulder to see Vivian.

She looks like she feels like hell, but has managed to pull herself together. 

Makes two of us--well, kind of, at least. 

"C'mon, the guys are already at the venue." 

Fred tells me. 

"Great." I smirk, patting his shoulder, stepping to Vivian. 

I don't think either of us are taking into consideration the amount of utter bullshitting we're about to have to do. 

I also don't expect the amount of paparazzi waiting for us right outside the hotel's doors.

As soon as the door opens, screaming, flashes, invasive questions come hurtling our way. It feels closterphobic enough to make Vivian grab my hand, tight, curling closer into me as if trying to hide away from prying cameras and questions about my alleged affair.

I feel her being tugged at once, and just as she says, "Nikki," I'm snatching my hand from hers to beat repeatedly, as hard as I can, at the forearm of the perpetrator, a media creep trying to get her attention. 

"Don't fucking touch her!" I bark out over the noise and he stumbles back, holding at his arm as I put my arm around her waist, tightly, getting to the car. 

When we get inside, Vivian's obviously distraught over what just happened, shoving herself away from me. 

I turn my anger to Fred. 

"What the fuck is the point of  having fucking security if you're not going to keep people from touching her?" I sneer. 

"Because I'm a bodyguard, but you're a fucking Rottweiler." He states back without hesitation and I just roll my jaw, glancing at Vivian and she doesn't even look at me. 

I sigh and dig in my pocket for the little baggie I got earlier, grabbing my hotel room key to take a bump to help me wake up for this show, and when we get to the venue, I'm getting out of the car and waiting for Fred to get out. 

He does, and I stop Vivian, nudging her back inside before saying, "we'll be there in a second."

Fred just looks at me and exhales, rolling his eyes before stepping inside. 

Vivian sighs out as I look at her, avoiding looking at me…

"Vivian, are we gonna talk about it or…?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I think we should."

"You proposed to her, Nikki."

"Allegedly." I add.

"You. Proposed. To. Her." She says it sharply and I lean back. "You had an affair with her. I trusted you. I trusted the both of you. And you lied to me." She hisses. "So, no, there is nothing to talk about...just let me out of the damn car." She slides over and opens the door but I reach over her and slam it shut.

She takes heavy breaths from where she's sitting, my body hovering over hers, the tips of our noses brushing together…

I lean down, my lips pressing to her's for just a second before she lets go of the fact I completely screwed her over. 

I'm about to pull away when she pushes her tongue past my lips, her nails running over my back through my shirt as her legs wrap around my hips, one of her hands in my knotted hair.

As always, I end up eating her like a starved pervert, relishing in the sounds of her moans and gasps. 

The truth is, she may hate me, but I'm good at getting her off and she knows it.

Once she comes and we start getting ourselves together to go inside, I look over at her. 

"So, are we good?" I ask her, oh, so fucking stupidly, and she blinks at me. 

"What?" 

"Are we good?" 

She catches on to what I mean, and rubs her lips together. 

"Nikki, you could fuck me into oblivion, which you can't because I'm never letting you fucking touch me again, and we still wouldn't be good. Not even close to 'good'. You can't have an affair with my friend and then expect everything to be good just because we fooled around while you were stoned out of your mind." She snaps and I roll my jaw as she gets out and slams the door, stomping to the back entrance of the venue. 

For the first time I feel the sting of rejection. 

Is this how groupies feel? 

I never thought once about getting head, leaving them in the limo and going on about my business. 

Anger boils in me, Sikki chomping at the bit. 

That selfish bitch! 

I get out and go after her. 

I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna say to her, but I'm mad. 

"How dare you use me to get your rocks off and then toss me aside?", no, because I've done that to her a couple times...but that's because she's into it. 

I swear she comes harder when I randomly come up behind her and just start going at it because she knows I'm just using her to get off and then leave her wherever I stopped her, and go out right after and wouldn't think twice about it. 

But me? I'm so used to her looking at me like I'm God while I have my full attention on making her feel good, and she has the audacity to get off on my face and then kick me to the curb and tell me I'm never touching her again?! 

I decided it wasn't worth the fist fight it would inevitably turn into by the time I got inside, but and looking back, she had every reason to get me horny and then swear off ever letting me get near her again. It was petty, but smart. And despite having sex one last time not long after that instance, the point was still made clear. For the first time in our relationship, the acceptance of sexual advances didn't take the place of forgiveness.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

No clue what to call this one...

It’s PunkRock!Michael and Emo!Alex AU that pretty much no one asked for. That being said, it’s for @litwitlady per our previous conversation about the subtle difference with punk and emo kids.  As a warning, it fluff n smut.

              The ground vibrated under Alex Manes bright red converse and he wondered if he’d be able to hear anything once this night was over. He’d found the furthest wall and decided to hold it up for the evening as he waited for Maria to get done with her one-woman-mission to fuck SOMEONE in this derelict house that operated as a “music venue”. All the rooms were lit with harsh yellow lighting, bereft of all but the most untrustworthy looking furniture, and there were dents and holes in walls all over the place. Alex was a little afraid the second floor would cave in at some point and he’d have to find out that people actually lived here.

Looking back up towards the corner of what was once considered the dining room of the house, he was happy to see that he couldn’t see Maria anymore. Maybe she’d gotten lucky faster than he’d figured she would and soon they’d be able to get out of here. But that might still take a while, so Alex slid down the wall and took out the book he’d been reading about the perks of being a wallflower. He noted someone coming to stand next to him in this periphery but didn’t look up. He didn’t want to engage anyone here and the bouncing of their leg by his shoulder made him sure they weren’t looking to engage him either since they seemed to be enjoying the band.

               When the band finally wound down, the figure that had been standing next to him practically fell onto the floor in a heap of legs and elbows. He turned to look and saw it was Michael Guerin, probably the most serious, mysterious, hard core punk kid at his school. His blonde curly hair had been streaked with green and slicked back from his face. He didn’t wear any make-up like some of the punk kids did or Alex himself for that matter. He had on a D.A.R.E. shirt with the sides and sleeves ripped off which showed off his lithe, strong body when he slumped forward. The shirt was tucked into tight black jeans with safety pinned holes up and down the legs. He wore the rattiest shit-kicker boots Alex had ever seen which were covered with patches, pins, and spikes. He’d left his spiked bracelets and collar that he’d worn at school at home for the evening and Alex felt like he was almost seeing him naked. Which wasn’t unwelcome because for all Michael Guerin’s faults, being unattractive was not among them.

              “Having fun?” Michael asked, looking over at him in between nodding and slapping hands with various people milling around in the crowd. The band was breaking down their gear and everyone was moving to other parts of the house or out into the yard between acts. Alex pursed his lips at him and went back to his book. He was sure he was just fucking with him. Michael Guerin didn’t make small talk. He mostly just stalked the halls and kept his head down in classes. Alex couldn’t look at him without rolling his eyes sometimes, he was such a cliché.

              “I, uh, don’t think I’ve seen you at many of these. Thought you liked fuckin’ Panic! At the Disco and shit…” he continued, sneaking looks over at Alex. Alex sighed through his nose loudly. Apparently, they were going to do this tonight.

              “I’m here with Maria,” Alex finally responded, still not looking up from the book he was frankly only pretending to read at this point.

              “Oh? I saw her leave with one of the guitarists from the first band. Was she your ride?” Michael asked, sounding nervous. Alex did look at him then, trying to see if he was just fucking with him or if he was being sincere. When he decided he couldn’t tell, he dug his phone out of his back pocket and saw a missed call and a text from Maria.

>Found something strange and hopefully wonderful. Won’t be back tonight.

              “God fucking damnit, Maria,” Alex exclaimed, almost throwing his phone in frustration.

              “So I guess that’s a yes?” Michael asked a little sheepishly.

              “This is why you never see me at these things. I don’t have a fucking car and my ride likes to fuck strangers and ends up deserting me. I fucking know better. Ugh, fucking Maria,” he raged. Michael watched him at it for a while. Meanwhile the other band had finished setting up and people were starting to filter back into the room. Alex looked around at the people and groaned, just wanting to leave and get out of here.

              “Hey, come on. Let’s go outside. It’s about to get loud,” Michael suggested, standing up and offering Alex his hand. Alex absently noted that his fingernails were painted, though the polish was cheap and had already chipped off in several places. At the first screech of feedback from the amps, Alex grabbed his hand and let Michael pull him up. He shoved the paperback into his back pocket and looked Guerin in the eyes, feeling a fluttery feeling in his chest when their eyes met. He was a bit surprised when Michael didn’t immediately drop his hand, but instead held it while leading him through the dingy kitchen and out to the backyard area. A group of smokers hung around the door chatting and they called ‘Hey-o!’ in excitement when they saw Michael. He waved and grinned at them but kept tugging Alex with him until they were past the property line. Apparently, someone had found a couch on the side of the road and had moved it out into the undeveloped desert behind the house to stare out at the dark nothing beyond. When they reached the front of the couch Michael finally let go of his hand and flopped down on the cushions at one end with a sigh.

              “Uh, what are we doing?” Alex asked, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed them. He shuffled a little and stared down at the orange and white plaid couch dubiously.

              “We’re hanging out. Chill, sit down, enjoy the night with me. We’ll still be able to hear the band from here,” he added, patting the spot next to him.

              “Oh, goody,” Alex remarked sarcastically before sitting himself down on the cushion farthest from Michael’s. He still didn’t quite trust his intentions, but he was glad to be out of the house. They could, in fact, here the band still, but the lyrics were muffled and it almost sounded like the songs had a melody this far out.

              “So, what’s up with the finger bruises on your arm?” Michael asked, pointing towards where Alex’s shirt sleeves had ridden up when he’d finally sat down. “Girlfriend like to get a little rough?”

              “Uhh…. That would be pretty remarkable since I’m totally gay and you know it. Like, everyone knows it,” Alex accused, deflecting his question about the bruises. He didn’t want to talk about his problems with strangers. As hot as this guy was, he was still a stranger. Michael smiled widely at him.

              “I didn’t know if that was a rumor or what, man,” he replied easily, seeming to take Alex’s correction in stride. For some reason that threw Alex off. He’d been waiting for an attack.

              “Oh,” Alex said, feeling a little deflated, “Well, it’s not. I’m gay. Does that make you want to run back to the party? Afraid someone will see you out here with the emo faggot?”

              Michael’s smile fell and he looked a little insulted. Alex almost apologized, but he didn’t owe this punk anything and he kind of wanted to see how he reacted to some pushing. His tone was less congenial when he finally answered.

              “I don’t give a fuck who you’re into. Love is love. What I do want to know is who the fuck keeps bruising you up all the time? Those aren’t love taps I saw on your ribs the other day in the locker room and you don’t skate or play sports. Who’s fucking you up?”

              He sounded mad, indignant on behalf of a stranger. On behalf of Alex, who was not used anyone giving a shit about him. It was a new feeling for Alex to have someone pay that much attention to him and care that he was being hurt. But he couldn’t just say ‘My dad knocks me around because I crave cock and hate the military’ so he kept his mouth shut and Michael watched him stay silent, watched him tense up with his shoulders closer to his ears and wrap his arms around his body. He obviously wasn’t going to say anything so Michael tried a different tactic.

              “The foster family I’m with right now… they’re alright. But the family I was with before them? Fucking meth heads. And meth heads get mean when they’re coming down,” Michael said, turning and pulling his shirt over his head to show Alex his back. There were long thin grooves over the middle of his back and little round scars like burns. “Not all that is the meth heads. The long scars were from the religious zealots I got put with a couple years ago. Being exorcised isn’t fun, but the lead up was worse.”

              Alex stared at the skin in horrified fascination, moving closer to see them better in the faint light of the moon. Before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching out to trace along one of the scars with his fingers, but at the last minute came to his senses and brought his hand back.

              “That’s awful, Michael,” Alex whispered. Michael pulled his shirt back down and turned to him, a bittersweet smile on his face.

              “Well, it’s all healed over now. Right now, no ones hurting me. So, who’s hurting you? Are you getting bullied? I know that Valenti kid is a fucking homophobic piece of shit jock bully, but if he’s literally beating you up I will get my boys and we’ll tear his ass in two,” Michael threatened with passion. Alex looked at him, feeling his face soften at how serious Michael was.

              “You can’t defend me like that. Kyle’s a fucking jerk, but he’s not doing this. It’s..uh… It’s my dad. He’s the one hitting me,” Alex admitted quietly. Somewhere in the middle of his confession, he had started to find his own hands fascinating. So fascinating he couldn’t look up to see Michael’s expression over his confession, but instead just kept watching the way his skin pulled taut when he interlaced them and twisted one way or the other. One of Michael’s hands came into his view then and covered his own, stopping their anxious twisting. Alex froze and waited.  He didn’t know what reaction he was hoping for but he felt himself bracing for it.

              “Do you have somewhere to go to get away from him?” Michael asked, his voice now quiet next to Alex’s ear. The hand not on Alex’s came to rest between his shoulder blades, thumb rubbing soothing circles through the cotton of his shirt. Alex felt his body relax a fraction, slumping a little as he realized he wasn’t about to be attacked.

              “Yeah, yeah. I have friends who will let me stay with them,” Alex managed to get out through the thickness in his throat.

              “Add me to that list,” Michael said. Alex’s head jerked up to look at him and he realized he was only a couple breaths away from him. “I’m serious. Add me to the list of people you can call if you need an out. I’ve got a truck, I’ll come get you. No questions asked, nothing owed.”

              “You don’t know me, Guerin,” Alex said in the stillness between them. He couldn’t stop his gaze from moving from his perfect hazel eyes down to his lips. He suddenly knew he wanted to kiss this guy. Whatever happened after was fine, but he wanted to do something reckless. Michael was pushing a long piece of hair back behind Alex’s ear and looking at him fondly and it made Alex’s gut clench with want.

              “Sometimes people do nice things without an expectations. It’s been known to happen,” he replied. Alex nodded and swallowed, suddenly filled with nerves again, though for a very different reason than before.

He saw Michael watching him, watching the way his eyes kept darting down to look at his lips, watching the way he mirrored licking them with his own. Slowly Michael leaned forward, closing the distance between them and pressed his lips against Alex’s. Alex was cupping his jaw and keeping him close before Michael could back away and end the kiss. Alex opened his lips, his tongue lickeding over Michael’s in a request and a question. This wasn’t Alex’s first kiss, but it was the first one he was adamant about pursuing further. Michael hummed deep in his throat and opened to Alex’s advances, letting him explore his mouth with his tongue before doing the same with his own. Alex felt breathless and elated. He didn’t care that the music in the background was hardcore punk being played so badly Syd Vicious would be rolling over in his grave. He didn’t care that he was kissing Michael on a dirty, half rotten couch out in the desert where anyone could see them and tell his father what he’d been doing with another boy. He didn’t care that Maria had left him to fend for himself so she could chase boys. This half-crazed make out session with Michael Guerin was making it the best night of his life so far.

              Maybe it was the lack of oxygen or the adrenaline of being seen by someone he’d never admitted to himself that he’d always been hyperaware of, but Alex couldn’t stop his hands from falling from Michael’s jaw and starting to grope at the skin exposed by the open sides of Michael’s shirt. In response, Michael turned his body and started to pull Alex until he was sitting straddled across his lap. Then it was Michael’s turn to slip his hands under the hem of Alex’s shirt and let his hands slide over the muscles of his back and waist. When it became too much, Alex finally broke their never-ending kiss to gasp air into his lungs. Michael didn’t miss a beat, his mouth attaching itself to Alex’s neck with sucking, stinging kisses that made Alex want to go crazy.

              “Fuck,” Alex groaned when he felt Michael’s fingers start to slip past the waist band of his jeans. It was so hot to feel him against his skin. It was too much, though, just too much with someone he’d really just been introduced to. “Wait, wait, wait! We gotta slow down…”

              Michael groaned and buried his head against Alex’s shoulder, hands immediately coming out from under his shirt and wrapping him up in a hug. Alex slowly withdrew his own hands, resting them on Michael’s shoulders while they both calmed down and regained their breath.

              “Sorry,” Michael murmured against his shirt before lifting his head and giving him a quick, close-mouthed kiss. “Sorry.”

              Alex smiled and laughed a little, rubbing his hands up and down Michael’s upper arms while he gathered himself. He was nervous about having stopped them, but he was still so fucking happy about what had happened.

              “It’s okay. All of that was okay, I just… Where did this come from? You don’t even know me, you’ve never talked to me at school or even, like, acknowledged my presence…” Alex said, eyes flickering over Michael’s face. He saw the way his expression went soft and slightly incredulous.

              “I may not know your favorite color, but I’ve wanted to kiss your emo eyeliner wearing ass since my first day at Roswell High. You’re always being so snarky and bratty to everyone and then when you’re with your friends? Your smile lights up the place and it’s so rare to see, but so fucking beautiful. It’s just… man, fuck school. Fuck those people. Fuck the kids, fuck the adults, fuck the institution. They’re answering just enough of the questions to keep us from asking more. It’s a fucking joke. I’m not in the right headspace at school. You’re about the only good thing about showing up every day. Just seeing you makes me hate humanity a little less.”

              Alex felt the heat of a blush infusing his face, but he also couldn’t stop smiling. This guy. This fucking guy.

              “Your,uh… your smile is pretty great too. I think tonight’s the first time I’ve even ever seen you smile,” Alex commented, his arms wrapping comfortably around Michael’s neck. Michael’s lips widened into a cheesy approximation of a smile that really just showed all his teeth with his lips pulled back while he crossed his eyes.

              “Oh my God, staaahhhp,” Alex said laughing at the stupid face. When Michael let his features relax back to normal, Alex darted in and kissed him. He meant for it to be one kiss, but it quickly turned into more as the heat which had been banked earlier, now came back to life with more energy.

              “Can we lay down? My legs are going to sleep,” Michael mumbled between kisses against Alex’s lips. Alex jumped and was about to scramble back and off his legs when he felt Michael’s hands under his butt and then he was being tilted backwards until his back rested against the cushions.

              “I shudder to think what’s on these pillows,” Alex grumbled even as he widened his legs and let Michael sink between them to rest his body against Alex’s. The weight and friction felt amazing. He suddenly didn’t care about the scratchy upholstery where his shirt at ridden up his back. He just wanted Michael’s mouth back on his and to keep feeling his body writhing on top of him.

              “You want to add to the mess?” Michael asked after breaking their kiss, raising an eyebrow and smiling mischievously. Alex looked at him confused for a moment and then his eyes followed Michael’s hand as it slid down to his own jeans, flicking the button open and leaving his hand on the zipper tongue. Alex’s eyes widened and he shot up to meet Michael in a kiss before glancing back down between them. It was so hot. He could tell Michael wasn’t wearing any underwear and his pants were almost painfully tight against his own body. “Alex?”

              “Fuck, yes. So much yes. All the yes. Enthusiastic conset given,” Alex babbled between kisses, his hands sliding down to start undoing his own jeans. Michael’s hand followed his, pushing his away so he could cup Alex through the black cotton of his boxer briefs. Alex felt like he could come just from that. His body was vibrating, breath caught in his throat as he gasped at the feeling of someone else’s hand so close to his own dick. He wanted to reciprocate. He wanted to touch Michael back so with shaky hands, he slowly pulled down Michael’s zipper and pushed aside the fabric of his pants. He felt the velvety skin against the back of his hand and then he pulled it out. Michael was uncircumcised. Alex felt like he knew this somewhere in his hind brain from talk or the locker room showers or something, but it was different when it was something you glanced while trying to hide as much of your own body as possible. Now it was thick and heavy in his hand. The foreskin moved in such a hypnotic way as Alex pulled and then pushed gently until he could see the wet, spongey head of Michael’s cock. It was giving him all sorts of scary, wonderful ideas of things he wanted to do and try that was definitely way too fast for a random hook up on a murder couch.

              “Does it freak you out?” Michael asked, voice a little breathy as he held still and let Alex play with him. Alex shook his head slowly, still watching his own hand as he jacked Michael’s cock, thumb swiping and spreading the precome over the head. Finally, Alex’s brain came back online and he looked up into Michael face. His eyes had closed and his mouth hung slightly slack. He looked like he was in pain, but he was enjoying every second of it. Alex didn’t stop his hand movements as he raised himself up enough to capture Michael’s bottom lip between his own. Immediately Michael responded, returning the kiss hungrily. His hand had stayed over Alex’s underwear, but now he pulled and tugged at the offending garment until he could get it far enough down to sit under Alex’s balls.

              “OOhhhhh my God,” Alex cried out as Michael’s hand finally grasped flesh and he was overwhelmed by the heat of his hand and the roughness of his skin.

              “You alright?” Michael asked, keeping his hand still to make sure Alex was still game. Alex nodded and sank back down against the sofa cushions. Michael was giving him a curious look from where he was holding himself up on one arm. Alex laughed a little and moved his hand to grip the back of Michael’s neck fondly.

              “That feels so much better when someone else is doing it,” Alex admitted a little shyly. Alex was afraid this was going to become a Conversation, but thankfully Michael just smiled softly at him and moved back down onto his forearm so he could kiss Alex while still having enough room between their bodies for their hands. Michael’s hand was a little dry on him, but he didn’t care. It still felt amazing and everytime their knuckles bumped against each other a zing of pleasure rocketed up his spine. He was doing this to someone else. Someone else was touching him. It was a-fucking-mazing. He started to feel a familiar tightness beginning in his core, his body winding itself tighter before it let go. He broke away from Michael’s mouth, panting and making pained little “Ah” sounds against his cheek.

              “Fuck, Michael, I’m about to—I’m going to—” he was trying to get out, even as his vision narrowed and his body became a singular being of exquisite pleasure. He felt Michael’s mouth cover his and then his own hand was wet as well. When it was over they laid there, panting against each other and then Michael tipped sideways to wall onto his side between Alex and the back of the couch.

              “Shit,” Michael said succinctly, cheek against Alex’s shoulder and breath still short. Alex just nodded and looked down at himself. There was come all over his shirt. His come, Michael’s come, marring the black in white, viscous stripes.

              “Shit,” he repeated after Michael, his voice less in awe now that it was time for clean up. Michael looked down at his shirt and honest to god giggled a little. He brought his come covered hand up and wiped it over a clean expanse of Alex’s tee.

              “Hey! I gotta wear this home!” Alex exclaimed, battling Michael’s hand away.

              “No you don’t. Follow me to my truck, I’ll let you borrow a shirt. This one is fucking toast,” Michael snickered. Alex looked down again and had to agree. Soon after, they tucked themselves back up into their jeans and got off the couch. Alex found himself a little wobbly after the high of an orgasm. Michael caught him with a hand on waist and kissed his cheek.

              “You get a little come drunk. Noted for next time.”

              “So there will be a next time?” Alex asked, suddenly finding he was nervous to hear the answer.

              “If you want there to be a next time, then yeah,” Michael said, holding out his hand to take Alex’s. Alex looked at it for a second and then up at Michael’s guileless face. He smiled then and reached his hand out to hold onto Michael’s. They slowly made their way around the outside of the house where the music was still rattling the glass panes left in the windows and out to the street where Michael had parked his truck. Alex stripped off his shirt and handed it off to Michael as Michael pawed through a backpack of clothes he kept under the passenger’s seat. Finally, he passed over a black Misfits shirt. When Alex put it on he noticed it smelled like rain, dust, and sage brush. It wasn’t a bad smell and in fact made him want to bury his nose in the collar to train it to memory. It was how Michael smelled and that wasn’t a bad thing.

              “Want a ride home?” Michael asked a little shyly as he tugged the bottom of his shirt on Alex’s body in some attempt to ‘straighten it’.

              “Sure,” Alex agreed, climbing in the passenger’s seat and buckling in. Michael closed his door for him and ran over to the driver’s side, climbing in and starting up the car. As soon as they were on the road, Alex slid his hand over the seat between them in a silent request for Michael to hold his hand. With a quick smile, Michael did.

[katie-writes24]

Last Chance

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x reader

Warnings: Language, suggestive material, brief religious content ig, angst, fluff, weddings, bad officiant script (if that makes sense), irl it’s kinda wrong but just go with it.

Part 2

I’ll just get straight to the point, Taylor Swift was the cause of this..... That’s it! You’re welcome, enjoy! Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Oh and also, can we appreciate that I finally figured out to put the ‘keep reading’ feature on because I finally set tumblr up on my computer? Yay me, this is a life changer you don’t even know!

As a kid, Y/N would be dragged to church every Sunday, told to represent her supposedly "religious" family. Her mother would force her into a dress, always reminding her to "sit like a lady" since there were always boys present, and you just never know. They would go and learn about the god above, be thankful that they were brought here, cheer his name. 

When she was fourteen, she went into church on a Monday, this time for a funeral. She automatically noticed the change in tone, obviously, but since then she looked at churches a bit different. They weren't praised as much, they held an entire different meaning, one that wasn’t very happy at all. No, she learned that churches could be just as devastating as celebratory. 

Like now, where people gathered in front of the steps, mingling and wearing expensive clothing. There was a truck on the lawn, workers were shoving different table sets across the road, where a large tent was set up. There was a group of people laughing a couple feet away, all looking down at a little girl with a white dress on. A stretch limousine rolled around and a few women climbed out with grace, all wearing the same pale color. 

Truly devastating. 

Y/N tugged at her own dress, hoping that the simple color would at least help her blend in with the crowd. Maria had told her it would be just fine, and it’s not like a new fancy dress was in her budget. 

Besides, it’s not like anyone here cares about her appearance. They’re not here for her. In fact, she hadn’t found one familiar face yet, which should be a good thing, but Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how many of these guests both parties even knew. 

“Would you ever get married?” 

He scoffed, “Marriage isn’t very meaningful is it, why should I have to document my love for you? As long as we both know it right?”

“Okay...I guess you’re right, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a nice tux.” She wiggled her eyebrows, but it didn’t bother him. 

“Is that all you’d want a wedding for? Because I will gladly put on a fancy tux if it meant you’d be down to-”

“Shut up! No, that’s not all. I’d like one, I’d think it’d be nice. It wouldn’t even have to be a big one.” She could see them by the beach, perhaps even getting married at the courthouse and use their money to blow on a big dinner after. She wouldn’t even mind a service in their apartment, it’s roomy. 

“Well, not like I have anyone for a big wedding anyways…”

She sat down next to him and stroked her fingers through his hair. “We’d invite our friends. I could invite my mom, you know she loves you. We don’t need a bunch of people to have a wedding.”

“Good, because I don’t want a giant guest list where there are different number tables and- a full service and a grand ceremony. I just...I just want you.”

She wonders how much of this is total bullshit. 

From where she’s standing, Y/N doesn’t think anyone would approach her. The lake is quite breathtaking, but the crowd is full of anxiousness and people are patiently waiting for the ceremony to start by the front of the church. 

Some people pass her by, and she picks up on certain terms, like how “beautiful the church is” or “she picked out the perfect dress, Philip was crying it was so pretty” and her favorite “just wait till you see this guy, they are just perfect for each other.”

Perfect. 

“I told you I can’t dance.”

“And I was a fool to not believe you. My feet are killing me,” He smirked and then laughed as she hit his shoulder. 

“Fuck off! Why are we doing this again?” She looked up at the sky that cracked before her, grey clouds mushing together.

“Because dancing in the rain is on my bucket list,” He twirled her around, pulling her close when she fumbled out of the turn. 

“Okay, what does that have to do with me? You’re telling me all your years before we met you couldn’t have gone outside and danced?” She grimaced as she felt drops of water against her skin. 

“Maybe I was waiting for the perfect person to do it with?” A hand wrapped around her waist and she chuckled. 

“Perfect? I am far from perfect,” They met each other’s stare and she got butterflies just seeing that look in his eye. 

“Well, then this is perfect,” The rain started to beat against the cement below them. “You and me, here right now, together. It’s perfect.”

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear anybody approach until they called her name. Y/N turned her head a little too fast, scared that she would be caught, there would be a giant scene, and then she would lose her chance at-

At what exactly? She didn’t know either.

“That’s really you, isn’t it?”

Hercules always was so welcoming, she never felt out of place when she was around him. In fact, he actually had a small smile on now, dressed nicely in his, most likely own, tailored suit. 

“Hey, Herc,” Y/N gripped her own arm, unsure if it was appropriate to go in for a hug. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, I made it myself.” He chuckled and opened his arms, allowing her to view his form. He looked just the same as she had seen him almost two years ago. 

“It’s definitely you! Did that business of yours ever hit it off with the investors?” Maybe she was aiming for small talk in hope of a distraction, she wasn’t ready for the obvious to be out in the open just yet. 

“No, but I’m working with something better. Got a lot of new line ups, good people to work with…” Hercules  trailed off with a fond smile on his face. 

“I’m really happy for you, Herc. You deserve it!” 

He smiled, “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Y/N winced and tried not to fidget. “Still working for the same place, I actually got a promotion a couple months ago, so I’ve been busy with that...But everything else has been...things are going well.” 

Hercules nodded, and just like a wave, tension flooded the air around them. 

Y/N refused to look up and meet his eyes, to either see full curiosity, disappointment or any other mood that would just make her feel sick to her stomach, will have her asking the same question over and over to herself. However, the silence couldn’t stay too long. 

“Y/N, what...why are you here?” 

An older woman was yelling at a worker, wanting more champagne for the bride's suite. She was aggressive, and yet the guests around her weren’t baffled at her behavior in the slightest. Y/N hated entitlement, hated more when the rich forgot that other people aren’t as fortunate enough as them. 

Y/N also hated that Hercules was still staring at her while she was wondering if her own mother would be so stressed as to the point of lashing out at others. 

“How long have they been engaged?” She finds herself asking only to quiet her thoughts of if they were stuck in one place and never seemed to want more. 

“Eight months,” Hercules sighed, never being one to push and always being honest. “Eliza’s sweet, she has a good heart. She’s loyal-”

Ouch.

“And she makes him happy.”

“Do you think we were ever… not happy?” Her eyes finally met his, instantly going soft and trying to word his answer carefully, even though Y/N could see a straight answer on his face. 

“I think...you guys worked around each other well. I think you enjoyed each other’s company, and maybe you might have been in love once, but that’s in the past. Right now, over a hundred people are going to celebrate what’s best for him and Eliza…”

He’s not marrying you, he’s not with you. 

It was something unspoken, but Y/N knew that was what Hercules was trying to get at, letting her know that her presence was unwelcome and that this was for the best. 

Why was she here? Why did she think that today would be the day to confess her feelings that never drifted away? Why was she so selfish, and think that her happiness was more important than-

Someone approaches them rather quickly, and it makes her turn and brace for an attack. 

Instead, it’s just John. 

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here, you weren’t invited!” He was loud and he was causing a scene, something Y/N definitely did not want. He actually looked like he was about to jump her, but before he could move any closer Hercules puts his arm on John’s chest to block him. 

“Relax, John,” Hercules looked back at her with a pointed look. “Y/N was just leaving.”

There was a pause, and she almost believed that yes, she was leaving. This was her cue, no one wanted her here, she wasn’t supposed to be here. Who is she to ruin a wedding? How could she do something so terrible?

“You should move in,” He ran his hand over her back, listening to her slow breaths. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It’d be nice, having you here all the time?” He knew she was drifting off and probably wasn’t even registering what he was saying. He was proven wrong when she raised her head to look at him in the dark light. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt seeing you all day,” Y/N smirked as he nudged her with his leg. She kissed his chest and smiled down at him. “If I move in, there’s no turning back. Rent is too high for me to be switching back and forth.”

“I couldn’t think of anywhere else I'd want you to be.”

Y/N gave him a curt nod, walking backwards a bit before fully turning around. She walked all the way pass the church, passed the parking lot, all the way down to the end of the lake. She was out of sight. 

But there was no way she was leaving. There was no way she was going to give up her last chance. 

Even from where she stood, she could hear the beats of the traditional wedding music pick up, cheers from the crowd pick up as everyone hustled inside. 

Her feet moved before she could even make a decision. 

There was an elderly couple just walking into the room, and luckily the man held the door open for her. She thanked him and took the grand venue in. On each bench there was a bouquet of flowers, a white row leading up to the altar. It was packed, and Y/N could only imagine how many people she was about to shock. 

She sat in an empty aisle seat in the back, and finally realized that Eliza was just reaching the top of the stairs, kissing her fathers cheek before he gave her over to him. 

“Should I get a haircut?”

“No. I like it the way it is. You have nice hair, it’s soft and always so full. Why would you want to chop it off?” She caressed said hair. 

“Eh, it’s too long. I think it’s a hassle to work with when I’m getting ready for work. I don’t know…” He looked in the mirror with a pained face. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaning her cheek on his back. 

“Well, personally, I like it. But it is your hair. You know I’d love you either way.”

“Are you just being biased?” 

“Mmh, well, I can’t say I don’t like having something to pull on.” She tugged and he whimpered before turning and kissing her, a full grin on his face. 

He looked just like Y/N imagined him. In fact he hasn’t changed, except maybe the circles under his eyes got a bit darker. His hair was neatly wrapped in a ponytail behind his head, sharp tux on, a smile on his face.

Except none of that was for Y/N, it was for another woman. 

Swallowing back the lump in her throat she cleared her throat, tapping her foot nervously as the officiant started speaking. 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Alexander and Elizabeth.”

“Stop being such a poor sport.”

“You so cheated! You know what, it’s fine. Because I know what really happened.”

“I’ll tell you what happened: Mr. Hamilton sucks at Mario Kart!”

“You take that back!”

“Through their time together, they have realized that their goals and dreams are more meaningful through a combined effort and mutual support provided in love.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You got promoted, Alex! You’ve come so far since we met. You work so hard, you stay late at work, you stress yourself out far too much for my liking. But you got exactly where you wanted to be! And from here you can only go up! I’m proud of you!”

He smiled, kissing her knuckles and thanking her. 

“As we create this marriage, we create a new bond and a new sense of family.”

“I hope our kids have your eyes.”

“If we’re thinking about children, I have no problem shoving them right back if they don’t look exactly like you.”

“Alex, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying. Your eyes, your nose, I even want them to be as witty as you.”

“I hope they don’t have your sense of style.”

“Hey!”

“Now, before we begin the vows, if anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony-”

“You’re acting crazy!”

“No, I’m acting reasonable! You can’t seriously think that you were just going to let this go?”

“Where are we going, Y/N? We’re stuck in this one spot, and I can’t do it anymore!”

“Then don’t!”

“Let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you…” She wiped the tears from her eyes as he held her closely to his chest. “And I’m terrified.”

Y/N stands without letting herself have any more doubts. 

Almost immediately, attention is drawn. There are gasps in the crowd, one woman even let out a horrid yell. The man sitting a couple feet away even scoffs, like Y/N’s idea was ridiculous. It’s enough commotion that causes the bride and groom to look her way. 

Warmth filled her as his brown eyes connected with hers. 

It went in flashes, Alexander’s emotions. First he was a bit confused, almost as to why their loved ones were making such noise. Then, it was anger, finally realizing that it was because someone was objecting to his wedding. And as their eyes connected, it was like he was sad. 

Maybe it was because he hasn’t seen her since she walked out. Maybe it was because she was ruining his special day. Maybe it was because he knew she lost her chance years ago, and that even he knew it was too late. 

Maybe it was because he knew the outcome of this. 

Y/N took a shuddering breath, before saying the three words that could easily crush the hearts of everyone in this room. But she ignored the appalled crowd, she ignored the angry face of John right next to Alex, she didn’t even want to see how broken Eliza must look right now. 

Instead, she focused on the very small quirk of Alexander’s lips, the small chance of hope that was promised. 

[ghost-in-the-hella]

J: “Join me for a swim?” with PriceMarsh, because I can't get enough of this ship.

Some soft pricemarsh for these troubled times. Enjoy.

---

Kate says a silent prayer before she approaches the woman sitting on the beach. She suspects that Chloe’s not the praying kind, and given the way people in Blackwell and around town never seem to have a kind word to say about her she’d be surprised if anybody else spoke to God on her behalf. And maybe Chloe prefers it that way. They haven’t talked about religion much in the few weeks of their budding friendship, but she’s pretty sure that Chloe is an atheist. “What kind of God would take my dad away when I was only fourteen?” For some people, tragedy brings them closer to God. For others, it pushes them away. But Chloe doesn’t make fun of her for being religious (unlike most people at Blackwell) and Kate doesn’t try to dissuade her from her own beliefs, so they get along beautifully. Everyone has their own path to walk in life, after all.

Kate’s path leads her toward Chloe’s slumped back and bowed head as she sits in the cooling sand and the fading light.

Chloe’s head doesn’t turn as Kate approaches, even though Kate’s footsteps in the sand aren’t exactly silent. It does raise slightly in acknowledgement, however, and Kate assumes that’s as close as she’s going to get to a greeting tonight. 

Kate’s not sure how long Chloe’s been sitting there, staring out at the slow waters of the bay. Chloe had texted her three times after midnight, which Kate of course didn’t see until she woke up at eight. Kate’s texted her five times since then at careful intervals so as to not seem too concerned, and Chloe hasn’t responded to a single one of them. She even tried calling Chloe despite phone calls not being a standard part of their friendship at this point, but she didn’t try again after it went immediately to voicemail. 

Kate’s never regretted not learning to drive so much before. It’s been sort of nice, actually, since Chloe’s got her truck and loves driving. Kate not wanting to ride the bus everywhere has been a good excuse for both of them to advance their friendship beyond “casual but amiable acquaintance” to “person I actively go out of my way to spend time with.” Today, however, not being able to drive has been a serious hindrance. It’s hard to search for someone when you’re reliant on small town bus routes and schedules. Once she started to really worry about Chloe’s silence and start looking for her, it took her nearly three hours to track her down at the beach.

She stops and stands next to where Chloe’s sitting in the sand. “Hey,” she says evenly, as if she hasn’t been clawing her hair out trying to find this woman half the day. 

“Hey,” Chloe answers without looking at her.

“...I got your texts.” Chloe doesn’t respond, so Kate continues, “I didn’t see them until I woke up; I’m sorry. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Chloe nods thoughtfully, processing this. “My battery died. Didn’t want to go home to charge it.”

Kate can’t blame her for that. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Chloe turns to her then and looks at her with those clear blue eyes. It doesn’t seem fair that such beautiful eyes should have to hold such sadness. The light isn’t great, but Kate’s pretty sure she sees a smudge of a bruise beneath one, and that makes her stomach twist all the tighter. “Sure, whatever.” Chloe trains her eyes on the bay once more, but Kate can still feel them piercing her heart. 

Kate tucks her skirt around her legs carefully as she settles by Chloe’s side. The sand is damp and the warmth of the day is mostly gone from it. She looks at the woman beside her. She’s not wearing her beanie for once. She’s wearing short sleeves and her pale, too-thin arms are covered with goosebumps. Without even thinking, Kate removes her cardigan and drapes it over Chloe’s bare shoulders. Chloe glances at her in barely masked surprise. Kate thinks for a moment she’s going to object, but she just wraps her arms around herself and tugs the borrowed cardigan a little tighter around her shoulders.

Kate feels like she should say something, but Chloe breaks the heavy silence while she’s still trying to piece her words together. “Kinda late to come to the beach. Sun’s almost down. ‘Most everyone’s gone home.”

“I didn’t come for the beach. I came for you.”

Chloe’s brows lift then furrow. “Why.”

Because when she woke up to Chloe’s texts and saw how long ago she’d sent them, Kate had almost immediately gone into a panic spiral. Because Kate had texted and called and couldn’t reach her. Because Kate was terrified that Chloe was hurt and had nowhere to go and no one to talk to. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t at the junkyard or the diner, so I thought you might be here or maybe the lighthouse.”

“Not a whole lot of places to go in this town,” Chloe says, and maybe it’s a trick of the non-light but Kate would swear that her expression softened when Kate told her she’d been looking for her. “I used to come here all the time,” Chloe continues. “My dad used to take me and my friend Max here every weekend in the summer. When we got old enough, we’d take the bus by ourselves and stay here all day. We practically lived in the bay.” She chuckles softly to herself. “She - Max - used to tease me I was going to turn into a mermaid because I spent more time in the water than on the land.”

Kate can picture that. Chloe’s got long arms and longer legs, built for swimming. Her hair wouldn’t have been blue when she was a child, Kate assumes, but Kate can imagine how it would look now: blue and purple locks flowing with the waves, fanning out around her head like a soft halo. The vivid reds and greens and blues of her tattoo extra bright against the pale of her skin, all shimmering under the water and glittering with reflected light. Long fingers cupping brackish water, lean body moving through the bay like she was born to do nothing else. “Punk rock mermaid,” Kate says a bit dreamily, already picturing how she would draw her. 

Chloe huffs a small laugh. “Nah, not when I was a kid. I was a pretty big dweeb if you can believe it. Super into science, major anime nerd, drew comics, all that stuff.”

Kate can believe it, actually, but she keeps that to herself. 

The smile that had been growing on Chloe’s lips fades away. “Rach loves swimming, too. After Max left - her family moved to Seattle; same day as my dad’s funeral, can you believe that shit? - I didn’t go swimming for a long time. Probably for the best; I would’ve just drowned myself.” She picks at the cuticles of her chewed up fingernails fretfully and Kate suppresses the powerful urge to pull her into a comforting embrace and stroke her hair like her father has always done for her when she’s upset. “But Rach is a Cali girl, so even though our bay’s nothing compared to the Pacific she just has to go swimming. Like, constantly. Day and night. The girl’s blood is half salt water, I swear.”

Kate’s got this anxious bubbling in her stomach that she doesn’t know how to quell. She knows of Rachel Amber, but she doesn’t know her. She went missing last April, three months before Kate moved into the dorms. Everything she knows about Rachel she knows from the unavoidable gossip in the dorms, the graffiti scattered around town - some of it doting, most of it unrepeatably vile, and Chloe. 

She actually met Chloe because of Rachel Amber, oddly enough. Or, more precisely, she met Chloe because Rachel Amber went missing. One day Chloe happened to be hanging up missing person posters around campus while Kate was putting up flyers for the abstinence club, and when Kate saw what Chloe was posting (when she saw Chloe’s eyes) she had offered to help her distribute them. They’d gotten to talking as they worked, and by the time the posters were all hung they’d exchanged numbers.

Kate owes this friendship (this crush) to Rachel. And Rachel’s been missing for five months now. No matter how many posters they hang, no matter how many prayers Kate sends up for this lost girl to be found, she’s been missing for almost half a year. Chloe still talks about her like she expects to see her coming around the corner any minute now sometimes. Kate doesn’t know whether encouraging Chloe’s hope does more good or more harm at this point. Women who go missing for this long, beautiful young women like Rachel Amber… Kate wants to have faith in Rachel’s safety, but her mother’s been telling her horror stories about what happens to girls like her since before Kate was even old enough to understand.

“So we go swimming together a lot. Not now, obviously. But… yeah. Total punk rock mermaids.” She scoffs lightly, but Kate can hear the sorrow in her laugh. “I… I haven’t gone swimming in months. Not since she…” Chloe sighs. She shakes her head and tries to sound annoyed rather than heartbroken. “Missed the whole fucking summer. Now it’s probably too cold to swim. She’s probably been off surfing in Cali all summer, and I’ve just been staring at the bay like she’s coming in on the next boat. How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not pathetic at all. You miss your friend.” Kate reaches out a tentative hand and is relieved 

when Chloe accepts her touch without so much as a flinch. 

“I miss the bay,” Chloe says suddenly. “I miss the way it felt to just run out into the waves and not give a fuck. I miss feeling weightless and small and like if I swam far enough I could step out into a pirate’s treasure cove, or on some forgotten island, and start a new life. I miss feeling free.”

Kate’s never been swimming in the bay. She spent her summer here ingratiating herself with the local parish, learning the bus schedule, breaking in her library card. She stands carefully, dusting the sticky sand off her skirt. 

Chloe looks at her askance. “Heading home?”

Kate shakes her head. She reaches out a hand to Chloe. “Join me for a swim?” Kate asks, and her voice hardly trembles even though she’s beyond nervous. 

Chloe stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head and then she laughs in disbelief. “Are you for real?”

“Very much so.”

“You got a bathing suit on under your clothes, Kit-Kat?”

“Do you?”

“No.” Chloe tries to leer, but it’s so uncertain it falls apart before it can look properly devious. “You askin’ me to go skinny dipping? I thought you were supposed to be a prude about that stuff.”

“I’m not a prude,” Kate protests, her face reddening. “But no, I’m not asking you to go skinny dipping. Or at least I’m not going skinny dipping; you can do as you please.” She slips off her shoes, and good Lord, this really is a terrible idea, isn’t it. She’s not dressed for swimming in the slightest. Her blouse is white, and her skirt is, well, a skirt, but it’s too late to back out now just because she’s had a sudden attack of logic since Chloe’s already taking her hand (and oh Lord Chloe’s hand is so cold and so strong and so perfect) and hauling herself up to her feet.

“Gonna be a weird ride back to campus,” Chloe says with a grin that’s building in its certainty. “Wet jeans are hell to drive in. You know my heater doesn’t work, right?”

“I’ve ridden in your truck before, haven’t I?”

“True that.” Chloe removes Kate’s cardigan and folds it with surprising politeness by her shoes before tugging off her boots and dropping them haphazardly into the sand. She empties her pockets onto the pile of clothes: a crumpled cigarette pack, some loose change, a parking ticket, a key, a lighter, her phone. Kate places her handbag beside them. “You ready to do this thing?”

Kate nods quickly before she can chicken out. “Are you?”

The smile that lights up Chloe’s face is the most radiant thing that Kate’s ever seen. “Hella ready.” Chloe reaches out her hand again, and Kate takes it. 

The water is cold, and swimming in a skirt is just as difficult as Kate feared. It’s completely worth it.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Homophobia

How they react to your homophobic family members.

TW: Homophobic slurs.

I didn't know what language Marvel had assigned to Sokovia so I just used latin because they said the words for sokovia derived from Latin on the marvel wiki

Amica mea: My love

Carol: Straight out tells them how fucking rude they are.

You were at a family reunion. For the most part people were supportive of your relationship with the gorgeous woman in the suit next to you, but some were not.

Like your uncle.

"Y/N, I see you're still...well you." Your uncle threw a distasteful glare at your hand locked with Carols. "You should really consider a man." You rolled your eyes, "yeah and you should consider finally croaking it. But you don't hear me bitching." Carol threw you an impressed glance as she bit her lip to keep herself from smiling, and failing as she did it.

Your uncle was absolutely flabbergasted, "why Y/N, all I want is for you to be making good decisions and being a woman who loves another woman is not a good one." You were expecting this, and you were just ready to punch him in the face but Carol stepped in. "Excuse me, Y/N is the most loving woman ever. You should be grateful to have a niece so kind and powerful. You should also be grateful that I'm not punching you in the face for how you treat my girlfriend." She stepped towards him, towering over him. "You are nothing more than just some old asshole who thinks people care about what he thinks. Take your wrong ideals and shove them up your ass." She hissed.

He looked absolutely terrified, your godmother was watching this entire thing unfold. She threw you a thumbs up as if to say "you've got a good one."

Yeah, you really do.

Wanda: Sweet ole Wanda, finally snapping at someone.

She rubbed your shoulder as you sat through the reception, you felt uncomfortable and unwelcome. You were only invited because your mom (who supported you so much) insisted. You were never welcomed at your religious family's gatherings because well, you were a Grade A sinner because you had tattoos. They didn't even know you were queer. And you even got a guest which was surprising.

You were civil enough to wear a suit that would contain your tattoos (minus the ones on your fingers that you covered with makeup and rings). But your aunt wasn't civil enough to keep comments to herself.

Your aunt sat next to you, the one that was known for being homophobic and an asshole. Also a huge racist. You sighed inwardly, Wanda squeezes your shoulder subtly saying she knew. She always knew. Pros of being a freaking mind reader.

When your aunt heard Wanda's foreign accent she got this look in her eyes, the look you knew. The "I'm a racist and I show it look". "Where are you from?" Your Aunt asked, her voice tight and cold.

"Sokovia." She spoke, God, her accent just made you weak. "Really?" Your Aunt said with feigned interest. You resisted the eye roll. You promised your mother you'd be civil. You promised your mother you'd be civil. You thought to yourself and Wanda responded in your head, you can do this Amica Mea. Besides, I am not ashamed of where I came from.

And no one should ever make you feel like you are. You said back.

Your Aunt smiled coldly, like a snake. "So how did you two become friends?"

Friends? Does she not see Wanda's arms around your shoulder?

"A mutual friend of ours introduced us," You said, your words clipped. "So what have you been up to?" She asked, realizing how cold you were yet trying to fill the awkward silence. "We went to a pride festival last month." You said, after all, June had just passed.

She smiled coldly, "you still a f*g supporter?" Wanda moved her arms around your waist, "she's also a f*g fucker." Wanda said calmly as she sipped her wine. Her eyes becoming filled with contained fury.

Oh you could've made out with her right then and there at your cousins wedding. Your Aunt looked absolutely scandalized as you said calmly, "meet my girlfriend, Wanda." "You brought your girlfriend here?!" She shrieked. "You told me to bring a guest. So I brought one, someone I love." You kissed Wanda on the cheek and looked at your Aunt, "bite me, bitch."

Your aunt huffed away, and you looked at Wanda who was looking at you filled with love, "I'm sorry I said that, I just hated that-" You silenced her with a kiss, when you pulled away you said, "I love you, Wanda Maximoff." She smiled, "I love you, Y/N L/N. Regardless of your crazy family." You giggled as she kissed you again.

Maria Hill:

Holds you back from doing something you'd end up regretting. Even if she wanted to punch them as well.

Your sisters wedding was something you absolutely dreaded.

"You know we've defeated terrorists before right?" Maria said, obviously seeing your anxiety.

"Yeah well, terrorists never called me a f*g." You snapped.

"How bad was it?" She set her hand on your shoulder, "you told me your family wasn't the most accepting but what else happened?"

You shook your head, "I came out when I was fourteen, I told you that. But everybody except my parents insisted it was a phase, even my own sister. It's never ending." You said tiredly.

She gripped your hand, "I love you, Y/N. If anyone gives you shit I'll deal with it okay?" She gave you a teasing smile as you rolled your eyes and brought her hand up to your lips to kiss it.

"For the love of God," your sister walked up to you, "Aunt Suzanne is disturbed."

"Cause I kissed my girlfriends hand? How dare I." You rolled your eyes and took a sip of Maria's wine.

"Just hold it back today okay?" Your sister nudged you.

"Hold back what? My relationship? My happiness? In case you can't tell we're at a fucking wedding. Love is allowed here dumbass."

"You know how Aunt Suzanne is..." She trailed off.

"Yeah, a cunt." You hissed. Maria squeezed your arm as your sister rolled her eyes.

"Just act normal." She scoffed and walked away.

Act normal? You thought to yourself and went to go beat the shit out of your sister. Maria gripped your arm and pulled you back to her chest to make it look like a weird cuddling dance move so guests didn't suspect why the bride and the sister of the bride were about to beat each other.

"If you keep yourself from fighting someone, I'll reward you." Maria whispered huskily.

You looked at her, "you'll let me fuck you in the closet that's down the hall?" You said nodding your head towards the said hall.

She snorted and banged her head against your shoulder, "I honestly don't know why I love you." She shook her head, and looked back up to you smiling.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss her, "only for you." She grinned and pulled you two the dance floor. Where you two ignored the looks and swayed together, looking like two idiots in love.

Natasha: 

Does not hide affection and shows you off proudly.

Taking Nat to a family reunion was an adventure you were looking forward to. Your family was not the most supportive in the way you lived your life and who you lived it with. But Natasha was excited to show you off and shove it in their faces how great the two of you were.

Nat held your hand as you walked to your aunts backyard, "you seem excited." You said laughing.

"I can't wait to shove this in those fuckers faces." She said and promptly kissed you on the lips which you welcomed.

Your uncle decided now would be the time to walk out of the fence gate and see you and your girlfriend making out. "Oh! Um, hi Y/N."

You nodded at him in acknowledgment, Natasha's hands still wrapped around your waist, "Uncle Roger, this is my girlfriend Natalie Rushman." You two decided to go with her alias name because you couldn't risk her real name being revealed. Especially after the whole legal thing with Bucky.

Nat stuck her hand out to shake your uncles, "nice to meet you." Natasha said, lying through her teeth. She probably wanted to punch him, she's heard the stories.

He smiled and said, "likewise." Then promptly walked away.

She looked at you over her shoulder, "this will be a fun night."

Shuri:

Shuri believes in being petty, which you wholeheartedly agree with.

This family reunion meant a lot to you because it was the first family reunion you, the social outcast was going to after winning all your science awards. It was a prestige banquet, so you and Shuri were dressed in your finest attire, you in a suit and her in a wakandian dress that was red and orange.

You gripped her hand tightly as you walked into the hall, hoping to god your heels don't slip on the marble tiles. She rubbed her thumb across your hand soothingly. "It's alright." She said kissing your cheek softly.

You let out a huff as your homophobic aunt walked up to you with a smile, but it faded because she's a racist and homophobe. You squeezed Shuri's hand in warning.

Your aunt was mostly civil and you two walked to a table that had about four family members there, your uncle included, he was known for refusing to believe science and believe facebook articles over actual professors and doctors.

"Global warming isn't real!" You nearly walked away, one of your awards was in proving the fact that global warming is real. Your uncle refused to believe your points and you were about to leave when Shuri spoke up.

"That's enough!" Shuri said, "I will not sit here and hear you discredit Dr. Y/N L/N. She is not only your niece but someone who has done more research than you ever will in your lifetime. Not like you have much of that left anyway." She nodded to his wrinkled skin and white hair.

He guffawed. You smiled as she continued, "Y/N has a nobel peace prize, the Copley Medal, the Wolf Foundation prize and many others underneath her belt, if you want to know more, google her. She is reputable and the smartest woman I know." She kissed your head.

You waved with your middle finger as the two of you waltzed out to go eat at McDonalds, the night behind you as you two basked in your love.

[365days365movies]

February 21, 2021: The African Queen (1951) (Part 1)

The leading man!

It’s an old term from old Hollywood, and while leading men certainly exist today, it’s not something we really use anymore. And yet, we all have some concept of the leading man. First modern one that came to mind for me was Chris Evans. For the GF, it was this guy:

And that’s valid! But if we’re gonna talk about Hollywood’s leading men, we have to go BACK. FAR back, to the beginning of film, and to some of the most iconic film stars that helped define the term. These are guys like Errol Flynn, Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Marlon Brando, James Dean, Rock Hudson, yesterday’s Cary Grant, and of course, Clark Gable.

And some of those guys will appear on this blog at some point this year, most likely. One of them is gonna pop up this month, even! But there’s one more leading man to talk about, and that’s Humphrey Bogart, one of the most prominent of the leading men of the 1940s and ‘50′s.

I mean, come on! Casablanca! He’s a classic leading man, and I’m excited to see more of him. But every leading man needs his leading lady, and there are plenty of classic ones to choose from. Lauren Bacall, Jean Arthur, Judy Garland, Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Natalie Wood, Mae West, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, Olivia de Havilland, Greta Garbo, Lena Horne, Sophia Loren, yesterday’s Deborah Kerr, my mom’s favorites Doris Day and Audrey Hepburn, and OF COURSE, today’s star: Katharine Hepburn.

The Philadelphia Story, Bringing Up Baby, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner! Another classic leading lady in another set of classic films. And, OF COURSE, these two starred together in today’s movie, The African Queen. And who’s the director of this film? MOTHAFUCKIN’ JOHN HUSTON BOIIIIIIIIIIII

Director of The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The Asphalt Jungle, Moby Dick, The Misfits, the original Casino Royale, and weirdly enough, Annie. AND he was an actor in The Bible, Chinatown, The Hobbit, The Black Cauldron, and weirdly enough, Annie! Goddamn, this movie’s got a lot of talent behind it! I’m genuinely looking forward to watching this, considering that it’s often considered one of the best films of the 1950s. So let’s do it, yeah? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin in German West Africa, where...yeah, it’s a little uncomfortable from modern day standards, as a group of indigenous people are in a service at a constructed Methodist Church, where two missionaries, Rose Sayer (Katharine Hepburn) and her brother, Reverend Samuel (Katharine Hepburn), are pretty unsuccessfully leading the singing of hymns.

As they do so, a boat called the African Queen pulls up, captained by Charlie Allnut (Humphrey Bogart). When he pulls up, he delivers needed supplies and mail to the village, which disrupts the ceremony (thank God), and leads to an interaction between Allnut and the Sayers, who invite him to tea.

The Canadian Allnut seems to be pretty relaxed, while the British Rose and Samuel are obviously pretty stuck-up. But this is probably not going to matter soon, as Allnut delivers the news that World War I has begin, leaving the status of the British missionaries in German-occupied West Africa in danger.

And as soon as they realize this, a group of German soldiers comes through the village, and soldiers gather up all of the people from their houses, and...Jesus, they set fire to the place! Why? I mean, it’s war, duh, but WHY? The villagers are taken away for what I’m sure are totally good reasons, as the village of Kungdu burns to the ground. Samuel and Rose are left behind, and Samuel’s clearly a little fucked up by the encounter with the soldiers.

Soon after, Samuel seems ill, forgetting that they’re even in Africa. She helps him to his room, and he falls to the ground, obviously not well. It’s central Africa, so this could be malaria, trypanosomaisis, yellow fever, a BUNCH of shit. But I’m sure he’s gonna be fine. He’ll be fiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Oh, wait, he’s dead. We find that out when Charlie arrives to deliver more bad news: people are being taken from their homes to forcibly join the army, and the villages are destroyed in order to give them no place to go back to. Which is...disgusting, fuck me. 

They bury Samuel, and Charlie takes Rose onto The African Queen so that they can get away from the village before the soldiers return. This is backed by...very light-hearted music. Very poorly-timed sprightly music. I dunno, it really just doesn’t match the done, given that Sam just died, and they’re trying to escape.

We learn what some of the issues are for our two. The British won’t easily be coming because of the various German fortifications, including a large ship called the Königin Luise on a nearby lake. Said boat has a massive gun on it, posing major damage to any enemies. 

But Rose has an idea: using explosive gel and some pipes and cylinders, she has an idea to use The African Queen itself as a torpedo to plow up the Luise. Charlie points out that the only where there is down the dangerous Ulanga River, and past a German fort. And Rose guilts him for not wanting to help his Queen and country. And, with that, he agrees.

From there, it’s time for a boat trip! Like a road trip, but with a boat! Katherine learns to steer, and Charlie notes that he hasn’t fixed the safety mechanism on the engine because he likes kicking it. Y’know, psychologists say that catharsis doesn’t work like that, Charlie.

It would seem that Charlie knows this, and settles instead for a drink. And as he brings out his bottle of gin, Rose looks ABSOLUTELY HORRIFIED. Like he brought out a dead body instead of a bottle of alcohol; it’s even backed by this bombastic DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN in the score! It’s weirdly hilarious.

The two take separate baths in the river, which has gotta be FULL of a bunch of stuff, but whatever. They tuck in for the night as it rains, and Charlie’s stuck outside while Rose gets the tent. Which is...supremely unfair, and ASKING for Charlie to get malaria or other diseases. Thankfully, Rose realizes this and allows him inside.

The next day, they come upon the rapids, which look dangerous...but also kind of fun, it that weird to say? I dunno, I’d go rafting down those. On a related note, I’ve never been whitewater rafting. Maybe one day, huh? Well, despite the ride and again, WEIRDLY sprightly music, they survive...and more. See, Rose LOVED it. Like, really LOVED it. She compares it to a bonafide religious experience, and says that she’s never experienced such joy from a...physical experience.

So, either she’s an adrenaline junkie, or that was some, uh...foreshadowing. Charlie’s a little less excited by this, and notes that the upcoming rapids are far worse. And Rose is just...SO FUCKING PUMPED for this. Shit, I think something’s awoken in her. Get this lady to a theme park, STAT!

But again, Charlie is NOT happy about this, and gets kinda drunk later in the day. While drunk, he insults her plan, and goes back on his agreement to go on. She calls him a coward, and she calls him a “crazy, psalm-singin’, skinny old maid.” Um, Charlie, maybe not the best idea to do that to a woman who’s just learned to joys of adrenaline and tsting her limits. She might retaliate by, I dunno...throwing all of your gin over the side of the river while you’re asleep.

Yeah, like that. Exactly like that. Some drunk fish in the river today, lemme tell you.

Anyway, despite this, Rose is pissed off, as Charlie still won’t go down the river. As he insists that all that’s down the river is death, she still insists that he promised to go. He finally agrees, despite thinking that they’re doomed to be food for the crocodiles. And so, they go.

They pass the fort, the Shona, and the Germans do indeed fire at them as they go down. And I mean the ENTIRE time they pass. They hit the engine, and Charlie has to fix it right amidst all of this. They also hit the boxes of blasting gel, but they don’t go off. And, as Rose rightly suggested earlier, the sun gets in the soldiers’ eyes as they try to fire on them. And they pass without a hitch! Except for oooooooooone tiny detail.

HALFWAY POINT! See you in Part 2!