#their colours are only gonna get worse as i figure out how to draw them

[v-arbellanaris]

Your da meta is amazing and very eye opening. All about Justina/magic/chantry really got me. And I had a thought, this belief that mages are devil like figures/are always vunerable to demons stems from the Chantry. I get it. But why the qunari believe the same thing? (The Qunari - Saarebas codex) It bugs me that people of a completely different culture with no previous contact to the Chantry went to same conclusion. They only conquered Par Vollen during 6th age. Part 1/2

2/3 During the Exalted Marched they lost possibly because of lack of magic on their side. Is it possible that they created Saarebas later? Also I always wondered if Tamasarans are not simply lying about many things just so people they raise follow orders. Like -magic must be tightly controled because its a tool of war (they borrow a chantry tale to justify it), Or: metal and swords are precious resource (lets tell soldiers that its their soul they cannot loose) Or sell, to make the thought of

3/3 becoming a Tal Vashoth mercenary so much unthinkable. They also lost the tome of Koslun in 7th age so they have to make up new wisdom instead of following it by the book? Not to mention the cutting out the tounges thing. Because mouth-sewing is even more of a nonsense. I mean, how would they eat? Did Koslun really write all of this? Wasn't he a philosopher and a poet?(qun being based a bit of plato's republic)Sorry this is so chaotic. Qunari-magic lore is giving me a headache. Any thoughts?

hello! thank you so much, i'm glad you're liking my meta!!!

it's not chaotic at all! i definitely get what you mean. this is gonna get a bit long so im going to tuck most of this under a cut!

from an outside perspective, i think the qunari are intended to draw a lot of parallels to the ottoman empire (especially pertinent considering real world templars), except there is - perhaps unsurprising, considering how much of qunari canon is established during da2, and world events that were happening on the time e.g. bush's war on terror etc - a lot of inherently islamophobic tropes built into bioware's conceptualisation of the qunari, which they later tried to backtrack on in DAI to some extent. but islamophobia is endemic to bioware's concept of the qun and qunari, and the reason that's so important to establish and understand is because it sheds light on what they intended the qun to represent. there was (and still is, in many circles) arguments around how things like sharia law and islam-majority countries are "backwards" and "barbaric" on many different issues, which are often used 1) to justify discriminatory laws, invasions, wars, political assassinations etc (by conflating islam with extremism etc) and 2) to detract from how the same problems also still exist in the west and are not "solved" or "over" by any means. homophobia, sexism, ableism, transphobia, anti-migrant sentiments, anti-native sentiments, antisemitic attitudes, antiblackness, colourism, fatphobia, etc are as present in countries like the u.s., the uk, as anywhere else, even if its dressed up differently. so understanding that sort of explains why bioware did what they did with the qunari - the qunari exist as a narrative tool to tell you: it could be worse. sure, the chantry locks up their mages in the circle - but it could be worse! they could sew their mouths shut and lead the mages around on a leash. sure, the templars kill civilians seeming to aid mages - but it could be worse! the ben-hassrath exist. etc etc. the qunari exist as an ideological bogeyman; the islamophobic and orientalist tropes it draws on reflect the time most of this canon was written in, and are therefore essential to the narrative purpose the qun is supposed to embody, as far as bioware is concerned.

i do agree the way bioware written them is just… very aggravating. i think essentially, you can play it a lot of different ways, including the way you've suggested, though i would need to think through the potential implications more considering the tropes & cultures the qunari draw on, to make sure im not feeding into the racist & islamophobic narrative that bioware uses for them since at this point, the parallels can't be avoided unless you're writing the qunari from scratch. for example, in your above suggestion, my immediate thought was abt the tome of koslun. the tome of koslun's contents may be based on plato, but the reverence it's treated with and the general... everything else about it reminds me of the qur'an. the qur'an can be memorised & recited from memory by people (google tahfeez for an explanation, but most muslims know a handful of the shorter chapters) and a lot of care is taken when copying the qur'an; copies of the qur'an are supposed to be identical, and those that are not cannot be used for recitation. so i would hesitate to say that the qunari simply made up a bunch stuff and claimed it was from the tome of koslun, because it's a big religious taboo to do similar things with the qur'an.

and there's actually a fantastic thing here, which i've reblogged before, suggesting a rewrite for the qunari which is written by a muslim, which ive always liked! and it's certainly more thought through than anything i've got atm lol

like ive been tossing up a few ideas myself, to try and... rather than rewrite the qunari, to reframe them. i think da2 offers a lot of opportunities to go "well varric lied" and i admit, im not above taking advantage of the narrative style to suit my own purposes. like of course there's all this weird islamophobic bullshit with the qunari; varric is talking to cassandra, the right hand of the divine. ofc he's going to appeal to stereotypes the chantry has about the qun in his story. i'm still trying to piece together how i would do that, though, and where/why i would make changes.

specifically wrt to the saarebas, i had wondered whether i could make it something they do specifically to thedosian mages - tevinter mages caught in battle with seheron, for example. bull, after all, makes it a point to note that qunari can also be elven or human or even dwarven, but in da2, every saarebas we see is as non-human as the arishok. southern mages (circle mages at least) go their entire lives terrified of who and what they are, which makes them dangerous to themselves and also to others, because they're more susceptible to demonic influences (which! not true! but i think it would be interesting to have the argument from the qunari that the circles & chantry propaganda are breeding grounds for abominations because they're prisons, rather than mages themselves being the issue) (compared to, maybe, a qunari mage - mage being a dedicated position just like ben-hassrath or sten, treated without any stigma). tevinter mages are outright dangerous to them, actively wanting to harm them, and so "typical" saarebas treatment - though, i'd also omit the mouth sewn shut thing for similar reasons - is more like... prisoner of war treatment (which is not MUCH better tbf)? especially considering the qunari use "bas" for people outside the qun but qunari mages are called saarebas, it's always struck me as a bit weird since qunari mages are still... part of the qun? so. dangerous thing, for mages existing outside the qun, like circle mages or apostates or tevinter mages, but not their own mages? idk tho, im not committed to anything yet lol

[monsterbananatv]

Things from Lockwood and co because I can part 4:

Episode 7

“Oh, Jesus. Look at the smile on him”

George being left out again

Flo telling Lucy to be careful cause there is a lot worse then ghosts

The other agent trying to help them

The barrels…

Lockwood, back again with his death wish

The scene in the warehouse. Damn the emotions in there…

“Nothing good comes from letting people in. Everything ends and everyone leaves.”

Georgie

The horrid buzzing noise

Those poor children

Oh no Lockwood!

Lockwood grabbing Lucy’s hand as they run away

The agents helping them in exchange for his life

Lockwood’s panic attack

Lucy taking charge and pulling Lockwood around

“What did he die for?” “It’s because they’re bastards.” “It’s because I am”

The whole scene where Lucy’s trying to snap Lockwood out of it. He’s holding onto her for dear life but he’s also holding her so gently too

Flo being the only one who sees something is wrong with George

George drawing his rapier on Flo, and the birds snapping him out of it

The fight with the Golden Blade

What does he know???

The fact that Winkman already knew the guy was an agent, so it wasn’t Lockwood’s fault

Get him Lucy!

Its like a bad game of football they’re playing tossing the bone glass around

The fact that pink socks wearing Lockwood is wearing blue socks. We all know whose colour blue is…

Them jumping off the roof into the Thames

Flo inviting George to go bird watching

George calling out to her to say that he wants to do it

Lockwood and Lucy crawling out of the water and you think they might have a moment, but Lucy just shoves Lockwood away (on beat with the song I might add) and storms off

George being mesmerized by the mirror and not giving it to DEPRAC

Episode 8

Lucy being mad at Lockwood because his suicidal tendencies put all of them in danger again

The scene where she’s yelling at him and he just stands there

The scene of both of them after, Lucy looking at the necklace and Lockwood getting dressed. I like that because Lucy looks at the necklace but doesn’t put it on because she’s mad at Lockwood, but she doesn’t throw it away either, and instead of putting on comfy clothes, we see Lockwood putting on his regular get up, his armour, because he’s not sure how Lucy’s gonna react to him

Lockwood apologizing

“I just wanted to say, don’t give up on us. Please. Or what I really should say is don’t give up on me”

“To be honest the bottom of the Thames used to be a far more appealing place to be. And really no one would have cared, but now…”

Now he has something, someone to live for. People who care (I’m fine I’m fine totally fine)

The two of them finally realizing that something is wrong with George and finding all the spirals

George feeling left out by being left behind to do the dorky stuff

Joplin weirding me out

The skull calling Lockwood and Lucy a happy couple

Lucy and Lockwood both blaming themselves for what’s happening

Both doing anything they can to save George, even if it means going in with some measly salt bombs

“but if anything’s worth dying for…” (George. George is worth dying for)

Them realizing how wrapped up they were in each other that they didn’t stop to help George

Kipps is losing his talent

Joplin basically kidnapping Kipps

“You couldn’t resist. Nor could he. Who knows what he might see. Mummy and daddy maybe” SKULL WHAT DO YOU KNOW

“I need you to be the right amount of reckless”

“Let’s draw our swords and kick in the doors like we’re cool and really know what we’re doing”

Lockwood and Lucy working with Kipps crew

“Just reckless enough, okay”

“What’s the secret weapon?” “She is”

Lockwood complimenting Kipps crew

“And I’m Anthony bloody Lockwood”

“This isn’t a park, it’s a graveyard” “Then let’s bury them.”

The fight between them and the relic-men

George figuring out that Joplin isn’t what she seems and what she’s planning to do

The fact that Joplin was gonna use George to look in the mirror

The knife being the twin to the one in Carvers back

Personal space Joplin, jeez

“That bastard had a plan” “A suicidal one” “That tends to be a feature of all my best plans”

“To save my friends… and Kipps”

Oh George… (My heart… they care about you George, I swear. They need you)

“You’re not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you are. You’re the best of us”

“We are not losing you Georgie” He’s their family. Hers and Lockwoods (I’m fine. Totally fine)

Lucy sacrificing herself to save George

The golden blade. WHO IS HE. WHAT DOES HE KNOW.

Pfffft the blade pulling out a gun (this is just so funny to me)

(Twice I’ve shouted at the screen when he pulled out a gun “you don’t bring a gun to a knife fight!”)

“And whatever happens, this wasn’t your fault” She doesn’t George to blame himself like she blames herself for what happened to Norrie and the others

Lucy using the skull to look in the mirror instead of herself

The images before Lucy passed out. One of them was Lockwood… why?

The glass being a trap. A trap for what????

George breaking the mirror (Go my boy!)

The mirror vaporizing Joplin and the ghosts trapped in it finally being set free

“I’m sorry about everything Luce” “So am I”

Get him Lockwood

“Fought off a load of thugs, fell down a catafalque hole, battles a bunch of ghosts. You know usual sort of thing. Oh, and I got shot”

The way they both run to Lockwood to support him, because he’s not dying on their watch

“You’re not done. Don’t say that. This is t how you die. “How do you know? “Because we won’t let you”

How gently Lucy is holding Lockwood on the way back up

Kipps being a wonderful optimist and great bringer of encouraging speeches (/s)

“Just reckless enough”

Lockwood not holding Kipps to the bet because it was the right thing to do

Both of them supporting Lockwood as they walk away (Family <3)

“Ugh this is so touchy feely”

I was right to not trust Penelope

Lucy saying she thinks she’s starting to heal now

Just them as a family getting food and living life :)

“I was wrong about George. He didn’t hate my guts. He actually turned out to be a bit of a hero”

“Lockwood almost died a thousand times but I think he’s decided he’s better off alive” (My heart)

“Cause it’s incredibly rare. Both of you are”

Lockwood and Lucy’s smiles when they look at each other

Lockwood opening up

Lucy shoving a donut in George’s mouth to shut him up

Lockwood wanting to show them what’s in the room

“No more secrets”

THE MOST VILE CLIFFHANGER EVER

I needed a season 2 a week ago

Please Netflix

[flydotnet]

Smokescreen

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.” Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

It took me 23 days to write an actual sequence of delirum seen from the inside. I'm impressed by my self-control, considering how easy it'd have been for me to write some for most lyric prompts for this challenge. "Shadows" was too good of an opportunity to pass up, honestly.

I'd estimate this story happens during the infamous J. League years of the manga whom I think everyone (including me) overestimates the importance of in said manga. They're here for like 5 barely comprehensible chapters in the second worst arc of the manga but damn if we, as a community, don't love our little guys being in all sorts of Japanese teams. TL;DR watch Cordialement's J. League.

I'm not sure why I'm going on this tangent, since this story isn't even about Nitta's Kashiwa Reysol tenure, it's just why he lives alone in some flat. Now you know he's located in Kashiwa, at least, I guess.

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Smokescreen

Summary: Shun wakes up to noise in his appartment and it doesn't take long for him to know someone's coming from him.

Fandom: Captain Tsubasa

Word Count: 1.1K words

AO3 version available here.

CW for a depiction of a house fire, even if hallucinatory.

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Noise, clattering noise, slowly drags him out of a restless sleep. It sounds like someone is rummaging his place and it immediately gets him on an alerted state.

With aching limbs, he gets up from bed and opens the door to his bedroom. The noise is only louder now that he’s not protected by the wall, clattering, or like footsteps, or maybe those are his. He has trouble walking in a straight line with how heavy his legs feel and how unresponsive his feet are, but he manages, adrenaline vaguely flowing in the background of his mind while everything else turns and twitches.

In the corner of his eyes, he spots figures who could be the culprit of the noise. When he turns around, which takes an abnormal amount of effort (shit, has he been drugged in his sleep? Is that even possible?), the shadows rush back into the darkness of his barely lit apartment. Where’s the light? God, his eyes hurt, maybe that’d make it worse…

The noise keeps growing as he walks towards it, step after step, vertigo overcoming him every passing moment. Everything tilts and turns as soon as he moves even slightly, his head stuffed and heavy on his neck.

“Who’s there?” He tries screaming in a loud voice, but all he ends up doing is coughing.

It burns his throat – it scorches his entire lungs in fact – but he walks on. He has to, shadows are following his steps and staring from the darkness. They shine in the dark, white lines drawing faces and glaring. They still vanish into thin air when he tries to stare at them, know what they’re actually meant to be. Who’s in his flat.

“Who’s there?!” He asks again, voice breaking.

He stops in his steps when his eyes get filled with smoke – is something burning? Is it inside here? He needs to evacuate. Wait, no. First he needs air. The door. He needs to get to the door and exit out of here. Then he can get to the nearest shelter and call someone to help. His keys should be on the table next to the door. He can drive himself out of here if needs be.

But then there are bright flames in front of him. They’re tall and flash all sorts of colours, blinding him and burning his eyes, drying them to a crisp.

It terrifies him.

The nearest extinguisher is outside his flat. It’s bolted next to his entrance door. He needs to walk through the flames and smoke to extinguish the fire.

Someone walks through the flames. Their silhouette has bright, red eyes that glow blue in the smoke, halos like a candle’s flame. It has tentacles coming out of its “head”, floating with the static wind, and all of its other features are shrouded in darkness. It’s menacing, but in a way, he’s sure it’s just some weird house invader.

Right, fuck. He’s getting home invaded. Oh and also they put shit on fire and he’s gonna burn alive.

It walks to him and try grabbing him. He ducks out of the way, stumbles as he does, fall to the ground. It tries getting to him again. He can’t get up in time but manages to get out again by agitating himself backwards. Unfortunately, it gets to him the third time, like a charm.

He tries to fight his way out of his predicament, to no effect. The silhouette is too strong, it has no trouble tanking all of his hits. No punch, no kick works on it. His breathing quickens, hurts, makes him cough. The flames surround them. The smoke doesn’t let up. He suffocates, skin boiling and blood shivering.

His sight gives out.

Their hands feel soft on his neck.

Shun wakes up to the muffled scent of flowers and a pleasant sensation in his hair. Everything feels impossible to lift, heavier than metal itself, including his eyelids; so for a while, he just listens in to the ambient noise.

The wind is gently blowing outside, just out of reach. The birds are chirping outside. Someone’s rhythmically breathing right next to him.

Wait, what?

Why is there someone in his house that’s clearly not him?

Shun finally bothers opening his eyes. It’s blurry at first, so catching anything is beyond difficult, but once it clears up, he finally understands a part of what’s going on: he’s greeted by Kumi and her bright smile. All of the stress and fear he’s piled up in seconds disappears just as fast, relief taking its place at a breakneck speed.

They’re actually in his bedroom, so most likely on his bed. She’s sitting against the bedpost with his head on her lap, his hand brushing through his hair. It feels sticky, from where she is, but she seems negative amounts of bothered about it. If he isn’t mistaken, there’s also a cold compress on his forehead, right under his untamed bangs.

What happened?

He has blurry memories coming back to him, all worrisome and completely contradictory to where he’s finding himself right now. The flames, the home invader, all of that shit… where are they? What happened? This is place, not hers, he knows that without a doubt. Even his chest hurts less, despite the ache in his throat and airpipes.

So how did he end up here, in as close as heaven as you can get without dying?

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, voice sweet as honey.

“Uh… Weird.” He has trouble talking. “What happened?”

Her smile disappears as she frowns.

“I suppose you wouldn’t remember it,” she replies. “I was paying you a visit because I knew you were ill, but when I came in, you were spiking a fever. I think you started hallucinating, because when I tried to get to you, you just hit me back.”

Oh. There was no home invader and there was no fire. It was literally just him.

“Fuck.”

“It’s fine,” she says with just a bit too much of heartbreak in her voice. “You weren’t yourself, Shun. You didn’t intend on attacking me.”

“That’s still terrible shit to do to you.”

“It is, of course,” her smile comes back, even if it’s shy, “but I have more reasons to forgive than to hold a grudge against you. I still think you weren’t yourself and shouldn’t be held accountable.” She sighs. “I’m just relieved your fever broke and you’re lucid again. That’s all that matters to me.”

He shoots her a smile.

“Ha, thanks.”

“Can I crash here for the night? I’d like to monitor you tonight, it seems like you’ve been ill for a while and it’s not gotten better.”

“That’s not wrong.” He harshly coughs. “Yeah, you can crash here. You’re welcome to, actually.”

“Good.” Her smile dims down a little. “Have you gone to a doctor?”

“Nah… Didn’t get to before I got knocked out hard.”

“Then let’s do that. Can you get up?”

“Should be able to. Just… gimme about fifteen minutes. I think.”

She chuckles.

“Works for me.”

He finally gets up – for real, this time.

[duskholland]

ok but "Why are you getting jealous, baby?. You know I would fingerfuck you right in front of her." with mob!Tom

me reading this request and going !!! lmfao. i love it. nsfw 18+ !!! extended warnings under the cut <3

–it’s mob monday–

extended warnings: jealousy, mentions of alcohol, fingering (fem receiving), slight degradation (calls her a slut once). i like this a lot tho hehe.

–––––

The mansion is decorated to the nines, with glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a temporary bar standing in the centre of the atrium, and a sea of serving staff covering the ground floor. There’s a string quartet in the corner, and there are so many diamonds hanging from necks and wrists that it’d rival the most exclusive boutique in Mayfair.

Tom likes to throw these get-togethers a few times a year. He invites everyone he knows—partners, foes, suppliers. Everyone gathers in your house and mingles cordially over champagne and canapés, pretending that they aren’t all armed with deadly weapons and surrounded by security personnel. It’s always a special occasion, and it’s one of the few times a year that Tom can relax when he’s around these people.

You know he enjoys it, so you always try your best to play your part. You’re in a long, sweeping tulle dress, tinted with your favourite colour and flattering you in a way that Tom adores. Your breasts ache, still tingling with the reminders of the tough lovebites your boyfriend had sucked to their underside when he’d first seen you in the dress. You’d been interrupted before your shenanigans had gone further, and you’ve been aching all night. Your arousal has only been made worse as you’ve watched Tom waltz around all evening, strolling from conversation to conversation with confidence, a broad smile, and an incredibly tight-fitting tux wrapped around his figure.

You’ve been holding back the temptation to jump him all evening, but you fear you won’t be able to hold it in much longer. Your skin prickles with want, the space between your legs throbbing, and you can’t stop yourself from peeling away from your conversation and moving off through the crowds in search of Tom.

It doesn’t take you long to find him, leaning up against the bar, champagne glass in one hand, the other arm resting on the bartop. You find yourself scowling as you recognise who he’s talking with: Monique, the leader of one of the other gangs in London. She’s always cosy with him, always emits an awful aura of intrigue whenever she’s around your boyfriend, and whilst you trust Tom more than anything, you don’t trust her.

You observe them for a few moments, trying to talk yourself down from acting unreasonably, but then she reaches out and rests a hand on Tom’s shoulder, and you can’t stop yourself from strolling over to them. You approach from behind, wrapping a hand around Tom’s waist and feeling him stiffen until you press a quick kiss to the side of his face. You move purposefully, knocking Monique’s hand off his shoulder as you settle at his side, resting your temple on Tom’s shoulder as you look at the other woman.

“Evening,” you say curtly. “You don’t mind if I borrow Tom for a moment, do you, Monique?” You pause for less than half a second before smiling, sickly sweet. “Brilliant. Thanks.”

Tom’s smirking, you can feel it on his face as you take his hand and pull him away from the bar. He catches up to you, murmuring into your ear as he lets you guide him, “that was a bit rude, love.”

You pout, only stopping when you’ve pulled Tom into a hallway. It leads off into three separate rooms, all full of your guests, mingling and laughing, but the hallway itself is vacant. You lean against a wall and tug on the front of Tom’s suit, jerking him closer until he’s pressing up against you and you’re able to bury your hands in his hair.

“Sorry,” you mutter, your jaw set in a hard line. “You know I don’t like her.”

Tom scatters a few soft kisses to the side of your face, slowly wearing down your hardened demeanour. “Why are you getting jealous, baby?” He murmurs, lips held by your ears. He briefly bites your earlobe, causing you to moan. “You know I’d fingerfuck you right in front of her.”

You whimper, pulling on your lower lip as you feel one of his hands stroke over your hip before sinking between your legs.

“Tom,” you say, voice breathless. You look over his shoulder, eyes skimming the vacant hallway. You part your legs. “Someone could walk in.”

“And?” You can feel him smirking against your neck as he bunches the side of your dress up at your waist, giving his hand easy access to slip up to your centre. “Fuck, love, no underwear?” Tom pulls back, eyes glinting almost black. “You’re soaked,” he coos, stroking two fingers through your slit. He teases your entrance until you’re whimpering and bucking your hips down against them, at which point he indulges you by sinking them into you. The discomfort fades as he stretches you out on his slender fingers, adding a third one a few moments later as you moan. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Always so desperate for my touch.”

You grab at his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your head back and whimper. Tom’s skilled with his fingers—he’s learnt exactly what he has to do to bring you to your knees, every single time. As his digits nudge up to stroke your g-spot, his thumb wrangles your clit, applying the perfect pressure as his lips mark your neck, leaving bruises on your form as you melt.

“Tom, Tom, fuck, that feels so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“Mmmm, don’t worry.” Tom nibbles at your ear, hot breath fanning across your neck. “Gonna make you gush for me, lovie. Right here, when anyone could walk in. Bet you’d like that though, wouldn’t you..? Bet you’d love everyone here to know how much of a needy slut you are for me.” You moan, shaking against the wall as his words coax you to the edge. “Go on, darling. Get my fingers wet, mm? Cum for me. I want to feel just how desperate you are.”

Your eyes roll back as you do as instructed, unable to keep quiet as you fall into your climax. Tom kisses you, pressing his mouth to yours to muffle your loud noises of enjoyment as your cunt clenches around his fingers and your clit revels in the pleasure being given by his insistent thumb. You gasp as you pull away from him, riding out your high before slumping a little, your figure shaking as you watch Tom remove his hand and suck on his fingers for a few moments. The glint of his Rolex is almost as pronounced as the hungry spark in his eyes.

“Thanks,” you mumble, voice hoarse. “Needed that.”

“I know you did.” Tom pulls your dress down before resting his hands on your waist, slowly dragging his palms up until they’re resting over your boobs. He winks as he gives your breasts a soft squeeze. “Are you going to behave now, or will I need to fuck you too before we go back out there?”

You smirk, drawing your hands over his shoulders before dragging him closer. You kiss him passionately, letting your tongue dip into his mouth and hearing him groan in response. Your hand settles in Tom’s hair as you kiss him a few more times, not wanting to distance yourself completely, craving him.

“I think you know the answer to that question, Tom,” you mumble against him.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re right.” He reaches down for your hand and shoots you a wink. “You’re insatiable, darling. Insatiable.”

You just shrug, letting him pull you towards a vacant room. “Can you blame me?”

Tom looks back, his hungry eyes roaming your figure as he shakes his head. His smirk grows fonder, and you feel your heart clench with love for him as he chuckles.

“No,” he murmurs, pulling you closer to kiss your hand, “because I feel the same way about you.”

[seijorhi]

Ok so YouTube keeps recommending anime clips from that one rent a girlfriend anime and now all I can think of is reader renting a boyfriend just to have yandiere bokuto or maybe hajime become infatuated with her and immediately touching her way more than what the contract has written on it 💦

I am on a Fukurodani kick this week, so let’s go with our darling boy Bokuto 😌

Once again Rhi learns that she is actually incapable of creating a ‘short drabble’

TW implied non-con

It’s embarrassing. You can’t even get a date to your ex boyfriend’s wedding. The fact that you’re even going to your ex’s wedding is bad enough as it is- you’d tried to wriggle out of it, but considering the girl he’s marrying is your cousin, your attendance is apparently ‘not optional’ according to your family.

But you’ll be damned if you show up to watch them tie the knot alone. Finding a date however, is more difficult than you think. Your male friends are either busy, taken, already going with somebody else or close enough with your ex that he’d know you were just bringing them along for show. Basically, you’re screwed. It’s not even that you want to prove that you can one-up him - it’s the pity he’ll give you. He thinks he ruined your life when he left (he didn’t) and that you’re still desperately pining for him (you’d rather throw yourself off a cliff than get back together with him).

It starts as a joke with a friend, you’re both a few wines deep, bemoaning your struggles when she suggests those Craigslist’s ads. “You know, the whole rent a boyfriend for a night thing, and then when you meet he’s actually kinda cute, and then you kiss him as part of the act but you both secretly want more and then you guys end up sleeping together and then-”

Ok, she’s clearly had one or two more than you, because that is definitely not how those stories go, but it does get you thinking. You’re not going to use Craigslist - you value your life and safety thank you very much - but there are sites out there that offer those... services.

Which is what leads you to Bokuto. The website seems reputable enough - at least for a boyfriend for hire kind of a deal, and the reviews don’t look too frightening. Actually, they’re glowing, and maybe that’s what gives you the final push to arrange a ‘consultation’ with the man.

“It’s an overnight thing,” you tell him over the FaceTime call, only for your eyes to widen and your cheeks burn as you realise what it sounds like you’re implying. “Not that I’m asking you for sex! I’m not, I know that’s against the rules, it’s just that-”

He cuts you off with a warm laugh, “Don’t worry about it. Overnight is fine, though we do charge extra for that.” You’d expected as much - at this point you value your pride more than you care about the small fortune you’re going to end up forking out for this whole thing. “Just tell me exactly what you’re wanting out of this, what you are and aren’t comfortable with, and then I guess we can start talking about how we met, come up with some meet cute story that’ll make everyone else super jealous.” He winks and your heart skips a beat.

The call that’s supposed to last twenty minutes goes on for almost an hour, but you feel strangely relieved when it’s done. Well, relieved and maybe even a little excited? Bokuto’s attractive and funny and he didn’t seem like a creep. It’s a ridiculously stupid idea, and you should probably be horrified that you’re even considering it, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

He arrives at your place on time, which you count as a win, looking particularly fine in a nice suit with a tie that compliments the colour of your dress (as you’d discussed). He’s somehow managed to reduce you to a blushing and stammering mess as you sign the paperwork - and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Relax, baby,” he says, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. “I’m gonna take good care of you tonight, just follow my lead.” His smile is beaming, but there’s a flicker of unease at the affectionate gesture. You’d agreed that posing as a ‘couple’ meant you’d have a show a little bit of PDA, but you’d thought he’d at least wait until you were actually at the wedding to start...

But he’s probably just trying to ease you into it. It has to look natural between the two of you, right?

To say that your family are impressed in an understatement. He’s tall, fit and handsome, and there’s this kind of bright, shining exuberance that just seems to draw people in. He’s like a puppy, almost - a super friendly golden retriever desperate for cuddles, and it’s sweet. Dutifully he sticks by your side the entire time. A little too close, maybe - following you every time you go to get a top up of your drink or a bite more food, reaching out to take your hand in his, but you suppose he’s just playing his part.

And he’s more than aware of your ex, who seems mighty interested in your new boyfriend, particularly for a man on his wedding day. You’ve just finished the entree course when all of a sudden Bokuto grabs your chin and tilts you back into a kiss, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen it as you gasp in surprise. It only last for a moment, but when he pulls away there’s a distinctly satisfied look on his face. Your stomach twists into a knot, your cheeks warming under his heated gaze. You know that you said kissing was okay, inevitable at some point, but... it just took you a bit by surprise.

“What was that for?” you ask him quietly, trying not to frown as he toys idly with your fingers.

“Hm? Oh, your ex has been staring at us for the past five minutes. Figured I’d give him something to look at.”

It wasn’t a bad kiss by any stretch of imagination, but you can’t deny that it made you a little uncomfortable.

You know he’s only doing what you both agreed on, so you push down on those feeling and offer him a small smile and a nod, “Just, maybe warn me next time?”

He leans over and pecks your cheek, “Of course, baby.”

You choose to let the endearment slide.

It only gets worse as the night wears on. Bokuto’s reluctant to let you slip too far away. When your friends swarm to try and get you to come dance with them, Bokuto follows. He pouts when you ignore him in favour of dancing with the girls, and the very moment they turn their attention, he’s resting his chin on your shoulder, arms looping around your waist.

“Dance with me,” he whines, and you fight back a sigh.

He holds you close as you sway with the music, his broad hands resting just south of what’s considered appropriate, but you have to keep reminding yourself that he’s playing the role of your boyfriend, and if he really was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t be making such a fuss.

But when those hands start to wander, fingers grazing your sides, a hand dipping to rest on the curve of your ass, you have to put a stop to it. You don’t want to cause a scene, not when you can feel the eyes of the groom burning a hole in your back, but this doesn’t feel right anymore. He’s not exactly breaking any of the rules you set out, but there’s clearly been some miscommunication, because this is pushing right past your boundaries. “I just need some air,” you tell him with a tight smile, prying his arms off of you so you can make a hasty escape.

It’s both a blessing and a curse that you’ve booked a room in the hotel. You’re not relying on him to get you home, but there is absolutely no way in hell that you’re feeling comfortable enough to spend the night with him in the rooms you’ve booked - adjoining or not. It’s not his fault, you rationalise as you wait for the elevator, key in hand. Maybe this is how all of his engagements go - but fake boyfriend or not, he’s still a stranger, and this whole night has been too much.

You figure that you’ll slip away now, call an Uber back into town. There has to be a bus or something you can catch the rest of the way back home, even at this time of the night. You’ll text him once you’re on your way, letting him know that he’s welcome to the room (both of them, if he wants - they’re already paid for) and that he can expect the rest of his payment tomorrow as agreed. This was a bad idea, but you’re not going to be a bitch about it. You just want it over and done with.

You’re halfway through changing out of your dress when there’s an insistent knocking at your door. It must be your mother, you figure, or maybe one of your friends who saw you all but flee the dance floor downstairs, so you hastily re-do the zipper and try and right yourself before answering the door.

A pair of hooded, golden eyes greet you. Bokuto is grinning lazily, leaning up against the doorway with an arm braced against the frame, boxing you in. You hadn’t realised earlier just how big he really was - not just tall, but muscular - he dwarfs you without even trying.

He barges into the room before you can even try to protest, kicking the door firmly shut behind him.

“If you wanted to ditch so bad, baby, all ya had to do was say so.”

[p4lparker]

Lost

We both remained still, as if that would stop the embarrassment from setting in. Stiles was still pressed against my back, hell he was still inside me. I had never been so mortified in my entire life; I'd come close a couple of times, when I fell off the stage and broke my arm during the play in 6th grade, the time I ran into the front entrance doors at school last week and finally the first time I experienced my monthly friend- I was with Scott and Stiles at the time. But none of that even compared to having the Sheriff walk in on you doing the do… with his son. I truly hoped that, that didn't actually just happen and that we were experiencing some weird 'What if' scenario. I wished the earth would just swallow me whole- Stiles and his Jeep too. We were gonna get 'the talk' from Stiles' dad. The friggen Sheriff was gonna tell me to make sure his kid wraps it before he taps it. I changed my mind. That would be the most embarrassing moment of my life to date.

 I wriggled, and sighed waiting for Stiles to pull himself together and pull out. He got the message, grasping my hips and drawing his own back and away from- he was released from me with a mildly disgusting sound. I shimmied my tights and undies back up my legs, trying to right my rumpled and disturbed outfit- when I was fully dressed I turned to look at the man who'd just ravaged me.. He was too trying to redress himself, though he looked like he was going to be sick. I reached a hand out to him, but he flinched away slightly, before letting me rest my fingers gently on his lightly stubbled cheek.

He nuzzled into my touch before jerking back and moving to get into his Jeep. I followed suit, getting in and buckling up. The engine started and, the atmosphere inside was tense and almost awkward. The cab was silent, not even the load groaning of the old, abused engine was enough to distract from the tense silence. I looked over at Stiles, his face was still pale- he looked like he was going to pass out.. or die one of the two. I guess he felt worse than I did, I mean it was his dad catching him humping me at the side of the road. In the process of analysing Stiles, he turned to face me; his usually happy mocha coloured eyes looked sad. I felt him reach out and grasp my hand- he held it softly in his own, gently squeezing it every now and then. Though the cab still remained silent. He was comforting me, letting me know everything would work out.

 Even though Stiles took the long route home, we arrived at the Stilinski residence all too soon. The Sheriff's cruiser was already sat in the driveway, and the lights were on in the front room. He was there. He was waiting for us.. Waiting for the most uncomfortable conversation in the history if uncomfortable conversations to take place. Stiles heaved a heavy sigh and slowly let the air leave his lungs as he unbuckled his seat belt and gestured to the front door- with an awkward sort of nod, in its general direction. I followed his motions, unbuckling and jumping out of the cab as slowly as humanly possible. I wanted to prolong the time before the end of my sanity as much as I could. We were soon situated on the well-worn couch, Sheriff Stilinski sat in his armchair. He was leant forwards, his elbows resting on his knees; hands clasped in front of his mouth and eyebrows furrowed. I shifted my eyes to look at Stiles, he was sat on the couch next to me. He was sat in a similar way to his father, though he was running his fingers through his short hair- which was steadily becoming longer. I on the other hand, sat scrunched up, I was trying to hide from the embarrassment. I watched as the Sheriff looked up at Stiles and I- he looked almost as pale as us, and his hazel eyes looked haunted. He removed his hands from his mouth, rubbing them over his face as if trying to rub away the memories or to fend off an on-coming headache.

 "How long has this been happening? I think that's a starting point and we'll move on from there..." Sheriff asked, he sounded drained, and the worst was still to come.

 "Its recent.. as in very recent.. as in so recent we don't really know what's happening.. and just gahhh..." Stiles muttered, shifting awkwardly. I watched from the corner of my eye as he turned to face me. "I mean.. is there something happening? or like.. hnngg.." Stiles was rambling, it was uncomfortable to witness. But it was true, all he said was true, it was new and we didn't even know if there was actually anything happening between us. Which was suddenly making this whole exchange with his dad all the more painful and scarring for all involved. I turned my head fully to look directly at him, I looked directly into his eyes- searching him for answers. I didn't really know how I felt about the whole situation. I mean, I liked Stiles- I was friends with him. And I really liked having sex with him. But was there more to it? Were there other feelings there? I wasn't sure. And from the lost look in his eyes, neither was he. I turned to face his dad.

 "In all honesty, we aren't sure. We don't really know what's happening between us. But when we do figure it out, we'll let you know?" I said it all as a question, before looking to Stiles for confirmation. He nodded, which made me release a breath of wasn't even sure I was holding. Turning to face the Sheriff again and he just looked bemused, as if mine and Stiles' explanation was stated in Klingon or something.

 "Right, well that's by not all that insightful.. but I guess it'll do for now. Next question, you protected yourselves right? Cause pregnancy isn't the only thing that can happen... I mean there are other issues here, not saying that either of you have other issues.. but you need to be safe about this type of stuff.. A kid isn't for Christmas- its for life.." Stiles' dad said, and he looked even more humiliated to be saying things like that. I think I could even see his cheeks burn a light red at the end of his little rant. I could feel the laughter bubbling up inside, this was awkward enough- I did not need to be bursting into a fit of mortified giggles. I felt Stiles grab my hand and squeeze hard, letting me know not to bust up.

 "Look dad, we get it. We have been safe, and if it happens again or anymore we will continue to use protection. But the kid comment.. this is a safe sex conversation.. not an adopt a dog commercial. It was just painful. Now Y/N and I are gomna work on some homework and stuff.. Later Dad..." Stiles said shaking his head. The Sheriff nodded his head, Stiles grabbed my hand and began to lead me to the stairs- we were half way up them before we were stopped by his Dad calling after us.

"And leave the door open.." The Sheriff's voice seemed to carry itself behind us- like a creepy stalker. I cringed, feeling almost like he was saying it directly into my ear, that phrase had an effect on Stiles also- his whole body tensed, from his shoulders down to his feet. This moment seemed to drag on, almost for a life-time, before Stiles jerkily gripped my hand tighter and dragged me more quickly up the stairs.

 To say the next few hours were tense and incredibly awkward was the understatement of the century. Stiles and I barely made eye contact, let alone physical. It was painful, as soon as I stepped foot in his room, I was flooded with memories of what had transpired here only hours ago. I felt the familiar tingle and heat settle in the pit of my stomach, that thrill running through my body. And I was mortified, here we were in Stiles' room, studying and there I am practically moaning at memories! I tried to focus on the paragraph of information in front of me- but I just couldn’t reign in my imagination or my thoughts. Which kept drifting back to the way Stiles’ fingers had grazed over my skin, had gripped with an almost bruising strength. The way his lips had marked me as his own- blossoming purple splotches on my chest and stomach. I wriggled around on Stiles’ bed, trying to get rid of the lust that was rushing through my body- hoping that if I moved or changed the way I was sitting, it would stop me having those thoughts or memories trickling through my brain.

I crossed one leg over the other, so my thighs were pressed together in an attempt to create some much needed friction. Though my efforts were in vain, nothing would ease this ache. I looked around in frustration, the only way to help this situation was to help myself. I looked to Stiles, he was unfazed- it was almost as if this wasn’t affecting him at all. I shuffled along the bed, getting closer to him- I was trying to be subtle about things. Once I was sidled up to him, I could feel the heat his body was throwing off seep through the layers of clothes I had on covering my quaking body, excitement was running down my body trickling all the way to my trembling fingers.  I watched as Stiles, forced his eyes to stay on the page he was focused on- I allowed one hand to spider walk up his arm. Following the line of his body, my fingers reached his shoulder. I slide my body closer to his own, my head resting on his shoulder closer to his neck; that soft creamy coloured skin, that was practically begging me to colour it. Stiles turned his face to look at me, brows furrowed in concentration and confusion, his soft and full lips pouted and looking as kissable as always.

“What uhh, what are you doing?” He asked, his voice deeper from not being used for a time- it’s baritone sending a shiver down my spine and adding to the heat boiling over inside my belly. I just smiled in response, moving my beaming lips closer to the pale column of his throat. I watched his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. Biting my lip to restrain the giggle that was bubbling, I contained myself before puckering against the taunting skin before me. Gently I kissed my way up the length of his neck, I could feel Stiles shift beside me. I could tell he was beginning to feel the effects of my lips- I could feel the effects I was having on his body. He became tense; shoulders straightening and muscles taut, neck bending more to the side to allow me more access to that delectable creamy flesh, his breathing quickened, his bottom lip was drawn between his teeth and being bitten down on harshly, his mocha eyes were closed tightly. I sat, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck- lips attacking him, I let my hand wander down his body. I could feel his stomach muscles pulling in and dancing as my fingers tickled the skin carefully, before continuing their journey down to his lap. I rubbed my fingers gently over zipper, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation. Applying a little more pressure, I rubbed more fully on the bulge that was beginning to form. Scraping my teeth against his skin before sucking it into my mouth. I wanted to mark him as mine, for the world to see.

His answering groan was quiet, but I still heard it. Biting and sucking harder. Leaving my signature on his skin. My fingers were itching to relieve his zipper, to pull it down it’s track and release him- so I could see him and feel him, use my mouth or my hands for my own sick pleasure and his. But just as my fingers danced over to the top of his zipper- preparing to pull in down, I heard foot steps thudding up the stairs. I hastily pulled my hands and lips away from Stiles’ waiting body, shoving myself away from him and towards the head of his bed- picking up the book I’d left there I continued to ‘study’ the pages in front of me. I shifted my eyes to watch Stiles, he was shaking his head as if trying to rid the cobwebs or shake the lust from his system. I gazed at his eyes; they seemed darker almost black- like his dilated pupils.  I bit my lip as I held in the smirk that was begging to claim my features. I managed to get my mouth under control just in time, Stiles’ dad poked his head around the open.

“Hey. I uh, I just got called into work.. I don’t wanna be that Dad- but from what I saw today I think I have to be. So uhh, Y/N- I uh think it’s time you should go. Maybe you could study more at home or something, and you’re welcome to come around whenever I’m around and stuff. But for a couple of days I want you guys to cool it..” Sherriff stated, I could tell he felt awful for this- but I could also see his point. I mean, we were lucky in a way that it was him that caught us this afternoon. If it had been any other police office, they’d have surely written us up or even dragged us to the station. And that would have been even more mortifying than what had already happened. I just smiled tightly and nodded- beginning to pack up all of my stuff and preparing to leave.

“Dad, c’mon. Don’t you think that’s a little much? I mean with the door open and then asking Y/N to leave.. Is it really necessary?” Stiles began to protest, his voice tight. From being annoyed at my dismissal and the fact that he was sporting an impressive tent in his jeans. I grabbed his hand to try and stop the possible conflict that was brewing before me. I could see both Stillinski men were boiling with anger, that was yearning to be let loose. At the touch of my hand, Stiles calmed down slightly. Bowing his head as a way to show his acceptance and submission. I watched as the Sherriff sighed, shook his head and then rubbed a hand over his face- almost as if he regretted this. I just smiled in what was hopefully a reassuring manner. Shoving my books in my bag and grabbing it up off the floor I went to follow the Sherriff from Stiles room, though as I passed by the end of the bed Stiles stood and grabbed my hand. Preventing me from going too far, tugging me back to him. So our chests met abruptly, the hand that wasn’t gripping my own trailed its way up to my neck. Cupping it and pulling my face towards his own. Our lips met tenderly, just pushing gently against each other- until Stiles decided he needed more, until I was craving a more solid and substantial goodbye.

His lips pushed more furiously against my own, lips trying to pry my own open, his tongue seeking my own out to taunt and tease with his own. I felt his teeth nip at my bottom lip playfully before he let his tongue run along it to soothe any pain there may have been. Soon, almost too soon- he pulled back slowly. As if testing his restraint to not yank me back and kiss me to death. I smiled faintly at him and stroked my free hand over his cheek, feeling the faint stubble that was beginning to cover his lower face.

“Skype you when I get in? I’m gonna miss your face..” I joked, before pulling away from him gently as a throat being cleared was heard from the door way. I looked over my shoulder to see the Sherriff looking slightly bashful, before nodding his head to the hall next to him. I nodded, as I heard Stiles sigh again, nodding himself in answer to my previous question. I made my way from his room and house and began the short walk back home. It was empty, as I assumed it would be- I quickly ran up the stairs to my room. I jumped in the shower quickly, thinking quickly through the devious plan that had just sprung to my mind as I journeyed home. Once I had finished washing off I jumped out the shower and dried off quickly. I returned to my bedroom and checked that nobody was in still, it was starting to get dark, the house was still empty apart from me, I walked to my bedroom door and locked it- ensuring I wouldn’t be disturbed. I quickly raced to my drawers, searching through the ridiculous amounts of underwear and bras, investigating for a specific number I’d bought with hopes to wear it for someone special at some point. It appeared Stiles was that special person. I pulled on the blue lacy numbers. Jumping onto the bed and lying on my side, when I was ready, grabbing my laptop and setting to start up skype. I called Stiles quickly, making sure my camera was off for now- Stiles answered right away.

“Hey, you wanna carry on studying together? We could quiz each other?” I spoke into the mike, I watched as Stiles nodded- his mouth full off a handful or two of chips. I grinned, watching as he pulled out his books ready to start with studying.

“I’m sorry for the way my dad was acting earlier… It was just so embarrassing. And he had no right to throw you out or anything.. and I guess I’m just well sorry..” I could hear the aggravation in his voice watching as he shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Hey don’t worry about it, he was kinda right. Maybe we should cool off for a couple of days..” I stated nonchalantly, trailing off as a confused and upset look crossed Stiles’ face. I bit my tongue to stop the giggles from escaping.

“I uh..  I don’t understand what you mean.. And your camera isn’t on by the way..” Stiles uttered, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to wrap his mind around my words and their meaning- though he didn’t realise I was just playing with him like some kind of predatory animal playing with it’s prey before eating it. Though I wasn’t going to eat Stiles, I was just going to torture him some more.

“Yeah, maybe we should cool off.. But that doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other..” I say, smirking as I turn the camera on. I watched as he stared at the picture that revealed itself to him. His eyes widened slightly and his mouth dropped open, he raised one hand to run through his hair- fingers twisting and tugging on the ends of it. I could feel myself grin, and only hoped that it didn’t appear as feral as it felt.

“Oh god..” Stiles whispered as he stared desperately at the screen, captivated as I moved my hand to trail up and down my side- each time getting dangerously close to my breasts. I smirked as Stiles gulped, his eyes trained on my hand as I cupped on of my breasts giving a light squeeze- letting out a faint moan. Which had him almost growling in response.

“D-d-do you uhhh, need me to c-come over or something?” He whispered, watching intently as I continued to squeeze at my confined breasts. I shook my head giggling lightly.

“No, you stay right where you are babe. I’m gonna give you a little show..” I taunted before moving the laptop further away from me. I stood from the bed, turning my back to the screen- pressing play on my sound system- letting the music flow through the speakers. I listened to the beat of the song carefully before beginning to sway my hips in time. Turning to face the laptop again, I watched as Stiles leaned forwards in his seat, I slipped one hand up to the shoulder strap of my bra flicking it from my shoulder and letting it slip down, before doing the same to the opposite strap. I turned from him looking over my shoulder and watching as he bit his lip, I reached for the final strap on the bra- undoing it and letting the garment slide from my body completely. I swayed my hips a little more, shaking my ass to tease him a little more. I trailed my hands gently up and down my sides before pushing my thumbs into the lace cheekies I was wearing to rid them from my body. Once I was completely naked, I continued to sway my hips before I span to face the screen again Stiles was leaning back in his desk chair- his lip still between his teeth and one hand was suspiciously hidden underneath the desk. I grinned and let my hands wander to the apex of my thighs, feeling just how wet I was getting.

A groan came from the laptop on my bed, I watched as Stiles stood abruptly. He fumbled with his zipper and button on his jeans before he aggressively tugged his jeans and boxers down to his knees before he took his seat once more. I watched in interest as he pushed his chair back from the desk slightly and altered the angle of the screen so I could see all of him. His now black eyes were still glued to the screen, he spit on his hand and then lowered it to the place I had been dreaming of for the last few hours. His cock was standing to attention, resting on his belly- leaking slightly, I could almost see the thick veins straining on the underside of it, the head looked delicious as it was stained a dark pink waiting to be relieved by something; I licked my lips in anticipation and let a moan slip free, this man had a truly beautiful cock. I’d had him only mere hours before- but my body craved him all the more. He pumped himself slowly as he watched me standing bare before him, one hand buried between my thighs. I dipped my finger between the soaked folds, wetting my fingers before they led themselves to the sensitive bundle of nerves. I rolled it beneath my fingers, pressing with more pressure as I massaged in figure of eights. Stiles was watching avidly, moving his hand up and down his length more quickly. My eyes were glued to him pumping himself, he squeezed himself and lifted his hips up slightly.

“C-c-come closer, I want to see you.. Need to see you..” Stiles groaned out, I practically ran to the bed and threw myself onto it. I shifted the laptop around until it was at the foot of the bed and I was at the head of it- I bent my legs at the knees and then spread them to allow Stiles a view of how wet I was. Of how much I was wanting and needing him. I let my fingers wander back to my needy clit, rubbing and rolling at it letting out moans and mewling sounds at the pleasure and for Stiles’ benefit. I watched in fascination as he continued to pump himself furiously. I could feel a trickle of wetness drip from between my thighs.

“U-use your fingers.. Like I would.. O-o-one then add a-another for me..” Stiles moaned. I nodded, biting my lip as I did as he said. My finger was wet enough to slip in I pumped it in and out a few times slowly, allowing myself to get used to the sensation. I heard Stiles groan he was pumping himself quicker- nearing his end I could tell. The way his mouth was dropping open in an ‘o’ shape, and his moans were flowing freely and more quickly. I slid another finger inside myself, the wet sounds that were coming from me only excited the pair of us further- I swear the noises I was making only forced me to become wetter. I pushed my fingers quicker and more ferociously inside myself hoping to reach my end soon, as the coil of pleasure wound itself tighter and tighter within my belly. With one hand buried between my folds and pushing myself further towards that delectable ecstasy, my other hand drifted up to my breasts, I cupped my left one in my hand and massaged and squeezed. I moaned louder, I was so close. I just needed to push Stiles that little bit further.

“Stiles..” I whined out, I opened my eyes slightly and watched as Stiles pumped his hand up and down more forcefully two or three times before he tensed. His shoulders hunching. Hand stilling, I could feel the beginnings of my own peak wash over me. That coil finally snapping. It felt like a balloon had finally had too much air blown into it and burst from the pressure. A loud, almost embarrassingly loud, moan left my lips.

“Ffffuuuck..” I heard Stiles groan out. I knew he too had reached his end, filling his hand with his delicious essence, the one I wished I was tasting at this moment. I opened my eyes to see Stiles breathing heavily and almost in sync with myself.

“Well shit. I uh.. Really like studying with you..” Stiles chuckled cheekily. I grinned in response before laughing with him. I watched him quickly wipe his hand on a random serviette he had lying on his desk beside him. I just stayed where I was basking in the after-glow. Stiles and I continued talking about nothing in particular. The conversation was easy, considering we were both still partially naked or completely bare in my own case.

“Shouldn’t you like put some clothes on or something? Cause no offence but you’re uhh you’re kinda distracting me..” Stiles stated, I smiled and nodded. Leaving my position to pull on some undies and then searching for one of the many shirts I’d stolen from Stiles and yanking it on. I returned to my previous position on the bed and grinned as Stiles’ eyes flashed with recognition at the shirt he’d perhaps been looking for- yet was in my possession. I glanced to the clock at the bottom right hand corner of my computer screen and noticed the time, it was quite late and I should be getting some rest, considering I didn’t get much the night before. And I was going to see Stiles tomorrow anyways, he was picking me up for school.

We said our goodbyes, Stiles’ was only slightly disappointed- and I settled in to bed. Letting my thoughts wander to the brown eyed boy who’d just occupied my laptop screen, he was beginning to occupy more of my time and thoughts also. I smiled and let my eyes slip shut as my mind replayed the way Stiles would groan and moan, only making me more excited for what the next day and our next encounter would bring.

[aperfecttimeforscreaming]

10 reasons why a poorly adjusted adult Dib is a Valid headcanon

1. Dib is/was a neglected child

Dib doesn’t have a parent that he can lean on and go talk to for advice, his father is frequently out of the picture and doesn’t give a shit about the thing that Dib cares about. Dib is actively encouraged by his neglectful father to give up on it, actually. I believe this would make Dibs stubborn streak really bitter and spiteful. Most people reading this are LGBTQ+, I assume I don’t need to explain how a fucked up an isolated upbringing, or being unable to be yourself around a parent, hurts you in the long run. 

2. Dib is bullied for the things he is passionate about, and being bullied heavily colours your perception of other people 

The world of Invader Zim is not kind, Dib is frequently harassed by his classmates/superiors/family for his outbursts/lectures/overall investigator shtick. 

Now you might say “but, Screaming, wouldn’t Dib learn to tone it down as he got older?” and YEAH. Probably! But does that mean that he would just forgive all the people that made his life horrible before that point? Or who socially ostracized him for the things he’d done in the past? No. No one is under any  obligation to forgive anyone who hurt them, and I think Dib wouldn’t even try to forgive someone he saw as intellectually inferior 

3. Dib is a selfish rich kid

Dib is selfish. He wants to be the protector of earth- but he doesn’t do it for earths sake. He’s clearly doing it as a cry for attention/ a reason to eventually be vindicated for being spit on by his own kind.  I don’t think he would have genuine empathy for other people. If he did have it, it’d have to be something he had to work really hard at. However, I don’t see Dib putting much effort into understanding other humans. 

Dib is rich (probably). This one being more of a headcanon- in the series Dib wants for no material object, he wastes technology on his explorations like it’s something he can just pick up from the dollar store, his father is a world renowned scientist with access to crazy technology and the ears of world leaders. I think he’d feel entitled to one or two things 

4. Gaz is not her brothers keeper. 

She’s not responsible for his mental health, she’s not responsible for keeping him in line and “normal”. Most of the time she doesn’t want a damn thing to do with him. If we’re going by the standards of the IZ tv show, the only times that Gaz interfered with Dibs paranormal investigations were when Professor M. Was also involved. Either she wanted to see her dad and Dibs antics were getting in the way (forcing her to intervene), or she was directly ordered by their dad to keep Dib out of trouble.  Sure, you could argue that she would beat the shit out of Dib for doing something she didn’t like- but that wouldn’t “fix” the mind of a very stubborn person. It might even make them dig their heels in even deeper out of spite and bitterness as a “fuck you I’m right you’re wrong” 

Furthermore, as Gaz gets older she’s going to have her own life to worry about and might stop tolerating the way Prof. M uses her as a middle man to deal with his “poor insane son”. She’s under no obligation to fix any of the phases Dibs life might go through. If Dib was unpleasant enough, and Gaz had the resources to leave, I think she might just bail on him. 

5. Dib is arrogant 

He's gonna do what he thinks is the best course of action unless you physically stop him from doing so. He comes from a place of thinking that he is right, the opinion of anyone else is secondary. Dib will do “what needs to be done” for “the greater good”. Whatever he thinks that “good” is. He wants to play the white knight at any cost. He cannot be in the wrong, or that bravado towards being righteous in the end crumbles. I think Dib would subscribe to a “the ends justify the means” mentality

6. Dib would harm another person to get what he wanted

In a room with a moose, Dib debates letting himself die just to take his entire class down with him. In the unaired episode “return of Keef”, he co-operates with Zim in an attempt to make Keef explode, because he thinks Keef is irritating. Dib used Gaz to test out an ancient spell book, cursed Gaz to only taste pork, and then only helped fix the problem when threatened with physical violence. This could be the kind of thinking that gets worse over time as more people mock his attempts to save and protect them. Why care about people that don’t even give a shit if they live or die?  Dib is a smart fringe personality in his world, and the otherness that he feels for that could lead to a sociopathic way of thinking if things went bad enough 

7. Dib does not care about other peoples personal space

Dib hides cameras in Zims house. Dib ran right past the front gate at NASA Place, Dib chased a baby big foot up a radio tower. Dib bullied Zim physically on the playground using his known weaknesses against him. Dib would do anything to get the evidence he needed to prove what he wanted to prove, and that would get him in trouble. Repeatedly

8. Antisocial tendencies (like spending countless hours fused to a chair, or most of your young adult life spent hunched over a desk at a computer screen) make it difficult to smoothly socially integrate, and the world of Invader Zim is fuckin' mean

You know the world he comes from is mean. However, assuming Dib did find community somewhere, who’s to say they would agree with him? Or like him? Maybe one of them would cause problems for him that were bad enough he’d have to leave. I’ve always found that the IZ portrayal of earth to be like this funny cynical parody of a dystopian police state america. If we’re going by “what can go wrong will go wrong”, Dibs social integration wouldn’t get easier without a bunch of effort on Dibs part. Maybe Dib would have to pretend to be somebody unlike himself just to get by in his day to day adult life. If we see Dibs country of residence as a police state, the world Dib grows up in would encroach heavily on his personal privacy, and that might make him even stranger via paranoia 

9. Sadistic tendencies towards anything paranormal (obsessed with the act of dominating and exposing the unknown)

Dib is a fucking jerk to Zim (rightfully so), but Dib is a dick to pretty much every supernatural thing he comes across. Either out of an excess of enthusiasm, or using a supernatural being to further his own plans, or from an invasion of privacy, or being an irritant to the entity he’s dealing with. He LIKES to be mean to them.  He  wishes to have mastery over knowing how they work. (maybe it’s more fair to say Dib is a voyeur?)  

This is more headcanon than anything, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say he might also want to control the paranormal for his own purposes. If Dib could say- catch a ghost in a jar so he could show it to everyone, he’d do it. If he could trick a werewolf into transforming on stage in front of a large audience? He’d do that.

10. Dib is created to be Zims equal

Dib is as “evil” as Zim is and vice versa. Neither of them is good, or pure, or morally justified. It’s a nice little grey dynamic. Both characters think they’re entirely in the right when they act. That they often aren’t in the right is fun because then you get to write/draw/ think about how they’d react to the consequences. Dib could still totally be a hero in his own mind, despite setting an apartment block on fire to flush out a coven of litches.

The reverse of this is also true, Zim can do nice things, and occasionally be good as Dib can be good. I figure the Zim/Dib dynamic changes for everyones interpretations at least somewhat. Having Zims terrible actions rub off on Dib as their battles escalate is a really fun way to go about exploring their relationship 

11. I like the it

There is no right or wrong way to enjoy a cartoon character! Live to make yourself happy in fandom! If you ever thought you needed permission to create rancid content, I’m sorry you felt pressured not to do it. 

You want to make a serial killer Dib?? You want to make a basement dwelling depressed zit covered Dib?? You want to make a Dib who struggles with his trauma through substance abuse?? Go HAM!! 

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar Ch. 7/ ?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (eventually, he he he) 

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined. 

WC: 2,276

Tags: gay panic, allusions to brother/brother incest, angst, Dean having graphic naughty thoughts 

Beta:  @daydream3r-xo - thank you for reading lovely 😘

A/N: To keep things realistic, as this chapter takes place one month on from the previous one, I figured I better make you guys wait that long too! JK, 🙃 I just suck spectacularly. So sorry for the unplanned hiatus, but I’m getting back into the swing of things, and promise the next chapter is already in progress and will be out next week 😊

Chapter 6

*

One month later

They’re out west working a vengeful spirit case and pretending, pretty effectively Dean thinks, that the events of nearly two months ago now have been forgotten. Sam doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t bring it up, that should be the end of that. Except it’s not. Inside, Dean’s head is a mass of tangled emotions and twisted thoughts and dark crevices broadcasting a siren’s song - like the allure of hearing a snippet of “Cherry Pie” seeping out into the dusty blackness of a desert parking lot illuminated by the warm neon outlines of poles and women - except the images hidden in those crevices aren’t mostly-naked women with too much makeup and not enough self respect. Hidden in the recesses of Dean’s mind are the images of Sam’s cock thrusting into a tight throat, and an echo of the words, “hey, if you ever need help figuring it out…”

Those words have haunted Dean more thoroughly than any ghost they’ve hunted, than any spectre they’ve burned. And Dean couldn’t manage to burn those words out of his memory. 

A knock on his shoulder draws Dean out of himself and back to the present, where the object of his fantasies sits blissfully unaware on the sticky black leather next to him. The desert is hot. 

“Are you listening to me man? Thought you said we were gonna pull over for the night, find some A/C?”

“Yeah, of -” Dean cleared his throat, dropping from the embarrassingly high octave his voice had come out in. “Of course, just uh, point me to the next exit I guess. There’s gotta be something coming up.” 

“Yeah, it looks like there’s a little resort town coming up just a coupl’a miles from here. If it’s a tourist spot they should at least have functioning air conditioning, maybe even a shower that isn’t broken,” Sam huffed. 

“Yeah, sounds good Sammy.”

*

To Sam’s relief they had a cool room and a clean shower about half an hour later, and he relished in the chance to stretch his legs and rinse off the dust that clung to him from driving with the windows down most of their way there. Towelling off his hair with a rough shake he lobbed the towel onto the bed and grabbed for a fresh t-shirt. 

“I’m going to grab some grub. You want to come or you gonna stay and read that nerd book you picked up in the last town?” 

“You mean Mythology of the Spirit in the American West?” Sam corrected Dean exasperatedly. 

“Yeah, like I said, nerd book. You coming with or not?” 

Sam huffed and considered his options. He was looking forward to sitting down with that book, but he’d also been cooped up in the impala for innumerable hours not too long ago, and it would feel good to walk around for a bit, even if his brother was being an ass. 

“Yeah, sure. I’m coming.” 

*

Dean picked out the first joint they walked by with bright lights and loud music. This was definitely a tourist town, because even on a weekday this place was packed, but Dean liked the noise and the buzz. It made a welcome change from the monotony of his thoughts broadcasting over a tinny radio all day. 

The place didn’t have much in the way of decor beyond the theme of ‘bar’. It was crowded with mostly guys - dressed a little more loudly than Dean would have expected but, hey, they were probably on vacation, cutting a little loose - and the occasional group of girlfriends had tables dotted around as well. It looked like your typical food and drink establishment. 

Sam slapped him on the arm and gestured to a free table on the other side of the room. Dean gave him a thumbs up and pointed to the bar, to indicate he’d grab the first round of drinks and hopefully find a menu while he was at it, he was starving. 

The bartender gave him a friendly smile when he asked for two draughts and pointed out the menus when Dean asked. Dean grabbed the first beer that was passed over to him and hung around at the bar while he looked through the menu and waited for Sam’s drink. That turned out to be a poor tactical decision, because standing alone at a bar and being as attractive as Dean is a combination that invited attention. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” 

Dean looked up, startled, into the face of the tanned, polo-shirt-wearing guy that had just spoken to him. He was giving Dean what was supposed to be an open, disarming smile, but which really just looked weirdly nervous. 

“Uh, hey,” Dean responded, leaving it open for the newcomer to pick up the conversation, but not really knowing what to say to him. 

“Nice night, huh?” 

“Um, yeah, sure-”

“Here’s your other drink, man,” the bartender cut across the exchange and dropped the second glass next to Dean’s first. 

“Thanks,” Dean grabbed quickly for the second drink and tucked the menu under his arm before grabbing his own. “Uh, nice to meet ‘ya,” he nodded awkwardly to polo-guy and hurried past to get back to Sam, who was playing on his phone at the table, leaving any thought of how weird that was back at the bar with the now deflated looking tourist. 

An hour later, suitably fed and two beers down, Sam suggested a game of pool. 

“You know I’m always up for beating your ass, Sammy.” 

Dean grinned and racked up the strangely coloured billiard balls in a bright pink frame. He’d never seen rainbow-coloured pool before but, whatever, people were weird. He gave Sam the break, and tried very hard to look anywhere but his baby brother’s ass as he bent stoically over the felt top and crashed the cue into the white ball, grinning smugly when he straightened up and rounded the table to pound a brightly striped ball into a corner pocket. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that he no longer had to avoid looking at Sam with his perv-o-vision on, but realised too late that the front-on view of Sam wasn’t any less enticing. 

The way his chestnut bangs curled over his brow and caught on his insanely long eyelashes - seriously was he wearing mascara or something? Dean yanked himself from his thoughts, only to be confronted with Sam’s eyes glancing up at him from behind those lashes and curls, like he wanted to check Dean was watching him while he took his shot. He holed another ball, and the clack and thunk of ball against porcelain and then wood shuddered through Dean and settled in his bones. The cocky smirk on Sam’s face took it one step further, and sent a shock of arousal through his chest and down. 

“I’m gonna go get us some refills,” Dean grunted and motioned to their mostly empty glasses. Sam shrugged and eyed his next shot, smirking to himself, under the assumption that Dean was bailing because he didn’t want to watch Sam slaughter him right out of the gate. He was partially right. At the rate he was going, Dean was going to be on the floor soon; and it had nothing to do with the pool or the alcohol, and everything to do with the thoughts Sam was stirring inside him. 

Up at the bar, Dean called for two more beers, and a double shot of something strong. The amber liquid was dropped in front of him quickly while the bartender waited for the taps to clear. Dean took a healthy gulp and let the burn in his throat ground him, reminding him of what he could control in this world. And maybe he couldn’t control his thoughts about Sammy, but he could control how mind-numbingly drunk he got to forget them. Taking the second and last gulp of the liquor, he nearly choked when he felt a tap on his shoulder. And he knew it wasn’t Sam, because he was watching Sam still bent over the pool table from across the room. 

“You drank that pretty damn quick,” the stranger chuckled deeply. “Good stuff?” 

“Strong stuff,” Dean grunted, and flagged the bartender for another, which was quickly poured out for him. 

“I know something else pretty strong that would feel good sliding down your throat.” This time Dean did choke on his liquor, prompting the stranger to thump him on the back, which Dean flinched away from violently. “Sorry hombre, didn’t mean to scare you like that,” the stranger had the decency to look slightly abashed, “it’s just… you got the best damn blowjob lips I’ve ever seen.” Dean almost swallowed wrong again. 

“I, uh…” Dean cleared his throat, grasping at straws for words that made any sense, and tried again. “That’s, um, that’s very flattering of you but I’m not… uh, ‘on your team’ amigo, sorry.” In a bid to hide his awkwardness, Dean went to down the rest of his drink. It stung on the way down, where the flesh of his throat was raw from choking. 

“Oh, sorry man, I thought uh- with your friend over there you two must be… well, among friends here.” He gestured vaguely around the room and Dean followed his motion, paying closer attention now than he had all night. And that’s when he noticed that a lot of the guys were sitting just a little closer than friends do, the groups of girlfriends dotted around all had pairs amongst them… His eyes darted back to Sam and the rainbow coloured billiard balls he hadn’t thought too hard about before. 

Dean’s stare hardened when he noticed that Sam, who had pocketed all his balls, effectively finishing the game while Dean was at the bar (and Dean did not let his heart strings tug proudly at that), was leaning casually against the side of the table, arms resting on his pool cue in a way that made him look carelessly sexy, eyes raking over a guy slightly shorter than him with spiky hair and a tight henley. His brain echoed with the sounds of shattering glass as he turned, wide-eyed, back to the incredibly forward man who had been hitting on him. 

“This is a gay bar?” Dean hoped he didn’t sound offensive, he was just confused. 

“Wow,” the stranger laughed, tucking a hand into his pocket, “you really are straight aren’t you?” 

He shook his head bemusedly and slapped a bill on the counter, gesturing for two of what Dean had just been downing. When they arrived, he clicked his drink against the glass he pushed in front of Dean. “Hope you forget whoever it is you’re drinking to forget about, and if you want some help with that, I don’t mind working with beginners.” The stranger left with a wink and made his way back to his group of buddies across the room, laughing off their sympathies at his strike out. 

Dean was left at the bar, puzzled, embarrassed, but vaguely flattered. Except then he remembered Sam was talking to someone, some jag-off who didn’t know how to buy clothes that fit him properly, and a feeling he wasn’t sure how to name writhed and burned in his chest. Eyeing his little brother over the drink he’d just been bought, Dean tried to do a little introspection for once. If he didn’t have a name for what he was feeling, then it was probably something new, right? It wasn’t his protective instincts kicking in, Sam could take this guy easily; could probably split him in half, Dean thought to himself ruefully. But then that thought conjured up an image Dean wasn’t mentally prepared for. 

Like he was watching it through the flickering of a candle, shadows jumping across the figures he was trying to focus on, Dean saw Sam grab the man’s hair and slam him over the pool table with his arm twisted behind his back, saw Sam pull down his too-skinny jeans and bury his face between the guy’s ass cheeks, saw Sam naked, slamming into him, splitting him in half, the muscles in his back flexing and glistening with sweat in the weird half light Dean was watching through. 

In a blink, Sam and his boy-toy had disappeared. Not just from Dean’s lecherous imaginings but also from Dean’s actual view. Panicked, he searched for Sam in the crowd, breath easing when he saw him further down the bar ordering drinks, but every muscle in his body clenched when he saw Sam’s hand land on his companion’s shoulder and squeeze. 

What the hell did Sam think he was doing? Picking some random guy up in a bar? That wasn’t like him at all, that was Dean’s thing. Except, when was the last time he’d gone home with someone? A few weeks? A month? With a gut-wrenching feeling, Dean realised that he hadn’t taken anyone home with him since Dani and Sam. So maybe picking people up in bars wasn’t his thing, if he hadn’t done it in so long. Maybe now it was Sam’s thing. 

But then what’s my thing? 

Dean scrambled in his head for a new identity, a new label. Something like ‘big brother’ that he could use to define himself, ground himself in the haze of confusion he felt himself slipping away in. Hunter? High-school dropout? Badass? Border-line alcoholic? He looked up from his empty glass and cast around his surroundings, frustrated and dazed and searching for an answer - and he locked eyes with Sam. 

You’re the guy who’s hopelessly in love with his little brother. 

Fuck.

***

Tags: @hawkerz12 @negans-lucille-tblr @dylansbabygirl24 @mineshinamary @popsensationnicole23 @spn-problems @donthateme454 @doyouknowsamw @peridottea91 @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons @petitgateau911 @natastic @marvelfansworld @delightfullykrispypeach @half-closeted-bi-girl @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @crashlyrose @kiss-my-peachy-arse @tftumblin @j-ai-adore-dean @deandreamernp @miufel @alice101macwil @caitlinvd @disneysloot @itsthedoctah10 @devilsbby @leftlokiofpuppy @jackandthesoulmates​

[inkwell1013]

Snapshots - Persona 5

Pairings: Yusuke Kitagawa & Yusuke Kitagawa’s mother, Yusuke Kitagawa & Ren/Akira, Yusuke Kitagawa & Madarame, Yusuke Kitagawa & Natsuhiko (all plationic/familial)

Genre: Angst, shameless angst, one shot, found family, 5+1 fic.

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: This fic deals with some heavy topics, including child abuse, emotional abuse, meltdowns, the death of a parent, a mention of suicide, unhealthy eating habits and alcohol abuse.

Summary: There’s a funny thing about memories. Some of clear and defined – like a photograph – while others are hazy and vague like a half-finished sketch. Still, they define a person just as much as the choices they make or the friends they keep. All of Yusuke's most important memories are about Madarame. Thinking back on his life, he wondered how he missed all the red flags.

Five moments in Yusuke's life chronically his life with Madarame and one moment after he leaves him.

- - - - -

Age 3

“Mama, play with me,” whined Yusuke, tugging on his mother’s sleeve.

His mother sighed, setting her paintbrush down on her easel. “I can’t play with you right now Yusuke.”

Yusuke pouted. “But I want to play!”

“Why don’t you draw instead?” she said. “I promise I’ll play with you once I’ve finished this painting. Okay?”

Yusuke beamed. “Okay, Mama.”

She gave him an easy smile and fetched his crayons and some paper from the shelf. She passed them over to him and went to get some more paint. Yusuke sat down at the table and started scribbling. Slowly, the picture began to take form. A neat brick house with a wild garden next to it.

It was a world away from the decrepit house they shared with Madarame. The shack was nailed together from sheets of scrap metal and was so unstable that a particularly strong gust of wind could have knocked it over.

Two people were standing in front of the house. A dark-haired woman and a small boy. Him and his mama. Just the two of them. They would finally be happy there away from everyone else. Away from Madarame.

Yusuke didn’t like Madarame. He was scary. Mama tried to make them spend time together, but Yusuke would always throw a tantrum and demand to be let go. She would always concede and let him run off, but he knew she and Madarame weren’t pleased about it.

“What is your painting going to be Mama?” he asked, as he coloured in the sky a bright blue. He imagined that they would live far out in the country, away from the grey skies of Tokyo.

“It’s a surprise!” she answered, tapping him on the nose as she walked back to her easel. “But it’s going to be a present for you.”

“A present for me? Can I see it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not until it’s done. You can’t know what it is, because then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Yusuke went back to his drawing.

After a few minutes, Yusuke realised that he was thirsty. He turned around in his chair. “Mama, can I go get a drink?” he asked.

She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, holding onto the easel and quivering. He hurried over and gave her a little shake to get her attention.

“Mama!” he cried. “Are you okay?”

She convulsed and fell backwards, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Her body and twitched, as if there were electricity flowing through her veins. Yusuke didn’t know what to do. He tried to shake her awake, but that just made her tremble even more. He yelled Madarame’s name until his throat hurt but he didn’t come to help.

Yusuke didn’t remember much after that. Everything was hazy, like a drawing smeared over with chalk dust. He remembered a dark figure loitering in the doorway, it’s face bland and uncaring. It stood there for a good few minutes. Standing. Staring. Waiting.

By the time that she had stopped shaking, it was gone. Yusuke was crying. Then, he heard sirens. He slammed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, trying to block out the terrible noise. The sound dimmed but wasn’t gone completely. He curled up into a ball and rocked himself, trying to calm the swirling emotions in his chest.

He had been doing that for some time when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, hoping it would be his mother. Instead, his eyes met with those of a stranger. Startled, he shuffled backwards. The man was wearing a dark green uniform and had a kind-looking face.

“Hey kid,” he said softly. “Are you back in the real world?”

Yusuke gave a hesitant nod. “That’s good,” continued the stranger. “You gave us a real scare there but your daddy told us not to worry.”

Yusuke furrowed his brows. “I don’t have a daddy,” he mumbled.

“Your grandpa then?” Yusuke said nothing, just shaking his head.

“No grandpa either? Then who’s the man downstairs?”

“Madarame is Mama’s friend,” said Yusuke.

He looked to his mother, who was still lying on the floor. There was dust in her long dark hair, which was splayed out above her head. She wasn’t shaking anymore, which was good.

“Can I talk to my mama?” he asked. “She fell asleep, but she’ll be awake by now.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this kid…” The man looked over to his friend, who was knelt next to Yusuke’s mother. The woman, who was wearing the same uniform as him, shook her head. The man bit his lip and held out his hand to pull Yusuke to his feet.

“Let’s go downstairs,” he said.

“I don’t understand… Is she going to be okay?”

The man shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Your mother has passed away.”

Yusuke knew at that moment - when everything he knew came crashing down around him – that they would never have that perfect crayon scribbled life.

 Age 7

Yusuke was bored of waiting for Madarame to finish painting, so he decided to explore. He was curious to see what he would uncover in the drafty, old shack. Maybe there would be buried treasure under the floorboards or a wild beast living in the basement.

Yusuke always had an overactive imagination. He made stuff up for the fun of seeing where his mind would lead him. Sometimes it would take him to faraway fantasy lands full of awe and magic. Other times he would find himself somewhere mysterious and dark, full of horrifying creatures - like the dark shadow that watched his mother die.

He was so deep in his head that he nearly slammed headfirst into an unfamiliar door.

It was covered in pretty peacock feathers, all painted in swirls of blue and gold. He ran his fingers along the ridges and crevices in the paint, marvelling at the way it was layered. The style and technique were nothing like Madarame's and it made him wonder who painted it. Could it have been one of his previous students?

He stood on the tips of his toes and grabbed a hold of the handle. Just as he was about to swing open the door, someone grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him backwards. He whipped his head around and saw that it was Madarame.

“Sensei, what’s in this room?” he asked.

Madarame slapped him so hard that Yusuke was knocked to the floor.

Still reeling from the shock and confusion, Yusuke raised a shaky hand to his cheek. It hurt to touch.

“You are not allowed in that room,” growled Madarame. “Do you understand me?”

Yusuke nodded through the tears which threatened to fall from his face. 

You are not gonna cry. You are not gonna cry. You are not gonna cry. 

Maybe if he repeated it enough, it would be true.

Madarame stormed off in a violent temper, leaving a shaken-up Yusuke to continue with his day like everything was normal. He went to eat dinner with his fellow pupils. Natsuhiko raised an eyebrow at Yusuke’s bright red cheek but said nothing, handing him his food wordlessly. The rest of the pupils stayed similarly tight-lipped. Yusuke swore he could see the tiniest hint of sympathy on their faces. 

After wolfing down his food, he excused himself and went to bed, thoughts swirling in his mind.

Why would Madarame hurt him like this? Madarame loved him. It didn’t make any sense.

The next morning, Madarame came down for breakfast like normal and Yusuke briefly wondered if he just imagined it all.

Everyone else found a reason to leave the room, leaving Madarame and Yusuke alone.

Madarame spoke first. “I'm sorry you’re upset Yusuke, but you have to understand this from my point of view. That room is where I keep all my old paintings and if you were to damage them, I would be upset. You understand, right? I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Yusuke gave a hesitant nod. Madarame stood up and patted him on the shoulder. “Good. I love you Yusuke,” he said, as he left.

Yusuke was still curious about the contents of the room (perhaps even more now that he knows it’s full of paintings) but when he went to investigate later that day, he found that it was sealed with a heavy padlock.

So, he left it alone and tried to push the ordeal to the back of his mind.

 Age 9

Tidying up the studio was one of Yusuke’s chores. Madarame had never asked him to do it, but he always blamed Yusuke when it was messy in there, so Yusuke learned it was expected of him.

He dumped the pallets and paintbrushes in the sink. Turning on the tap, he watched the paint run together and wash down the sink.

Madarame usually let Yusuke paint with him - as long as he behaved - but Yusuke had been exiled from the studio for two weeks now. He understood though – Madarame had to focus on his pieces for the upcoming exhibition.

Madarame had always been short tempered but the past few days had been worse than usual. It was okay though. He was just stressed about the exhibit; Yusuke was sure everything would go back to normal once it was done.

It was quiet. Natsuhiko had gone on an errand, so it was just him and Madarame. The shack always felt empty now that there was only three people.

Madarame used to have lots of students back when Yusuke was younger but over time, they had all left. Yusuke didn't really know why but he didn't want to risk upsetting Madarame by asking.

A few open cans of paint were sitting on the windowsill next to a drying painting. Yusuke went to put them away but something about the painting made him stop to take a closer look.

Madarame had signed it, but it didn’t look anything like his style. Had he really painted this?

The longer Yusuke looked at it, the more confused he got. The strokes of the brush were familiar and…

The realisation hit him. This was Natsuhiko’s work. He had painted it and let Madarame sign it as if it was his own. Why would he do that? It was didn’t make sense.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn’t even notice that he had knocked over the paint until it was seeping into the canvas. Panicking, he swept the it out of the pool of red, hoping it would still be salvageable.

Yusuke snatched a rag from the cupboard and desperately tried to wipe off the paint but it quickly became obvious that the painting was too damaged to be saved.

That was how Madarame had found him – scrubbing at the ruined painting with a rag, red stains all over his hands and forearms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and flapping his hands to calm himself. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

Madarame prowled over to him, like a wolf stalking its prey. Yusuke expected the slap but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “I’m sorry Sensei. I swear it was an accident,” he mumbled, tears welling in his eyes again.

“Apologising isn’t going to fix this Yusuke.”

“I know, I just… I can’t… I don’t...” He could barely get a word out. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh, stop that!” snapped Madarame, grabbing Yusuke by the wrists. “I didn’t want to do this again but you’ve given me no choice. Come on.”

Yusuke allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor, thinking that Madarame would just yank him upstairs and maybe shut him in his room. That wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes widened when Madarame pulled him past the stairs and a little further down the hall. He dug his heels into the ground and tried to wrench his arms from Madarame’s grasp. Madarame just tightened his grip, digging in his fingernails harshly.

“Sensei please!” he cried. “Please! I’m sorry.”

“You have to learn.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“Do you think I care what you want?” yelled Madarame, hauling Yusuke into the cupboard beneath the stairs. “This is for your own good.”

With that, Madarame slammed the door shut and locked it. Yusuke screamed to be let out, but was ignored. He tried to force open the door, but only succeeded in making himself exhausted. Defeated, he sunk down to the floor.

There was a miniscule crack in the wood which let in a little light, but it wasn’t enough to illuminate the dark cupboard. Of all the punishments he endured from Madarame, this was the one he hated the most. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and he never knew how long it would last. Madarame would let him out once he felt he had learned his lesson, whenever that was.

His wrists hurt where Madarame had dug in his nails. Yusuke wasn’t sure if they were bleeding or not – it was dark enough in the cupboard that he couldn’t discern the difference between the paint and the possible blood – but it hurt all the same. Why did Madarame hurt him like this?

It’s because you were bad.

Was that true? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know anything anymore.

He had been in there for some time when the front door creaked open. Yusuke heard footsteps coming toward him. He peered through the crack and saw that it was Natsuhiko, home from running errands.

“Yusuke, where are you?” called Natsuhiko.

“I’m in here!” responded Yusuke. “Can you let me out?”

“Yusuke? I can’t believe that he… Not again. Are you hurt?”

“Only a little,” said Yusuke. “I might be bleeding.”

Natsuhiko mumbled something under his breath that Yusuke couldn’t quite hear. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “He’s been getting away with this for too long.”

He could hear Natsuhiko talking to the police, and even though he was pretending to be confident, his voice was trembled with every word. He was talking so quickly that Yusuke couldn’t make out the words.

There was a long pause and Natsuhiko mumbled a thank you. Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Madarame.

“I’ve called the police,” said Natsuhiko. “You can’t keep treating Yusuke like this. I won’t let you!”

“You have no right to tell me how to parent my son, Natsuhiko. This is a punishment – nothing more,” said Madarame.

“This is abuse!” yelled Natsuhiko. “I’ve being turning a blind eye to it for too long but this ends today.”

“I can’t believe you are doing this to me!” growled Madarame, grabbing Natsuhiko’s arm. “You’re going to regret this.”

“No!” roared Natsuhiko, snatching his arm out of Madarame’s grip. “You’re not going to control me anymore. I am done! I’m not that fifteen-year-old boy you picked up off the street. Not anymore. I’ve had enough of you using and manipulating me. This ends today.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” said Madarame. “You don’t understand anything about the world Natsuhiko. You’re so naïve, still just a child.”

Natsuhiko violently shook his head. “I’m not a child anymore. I am nineteen and I know what I am talking about. You’ve been mistreating me for so long. You abused all of us. That’s why everyone else is gone. You hurt them so much they couldn’t stand to be here anymore. You’re the reason that Tatsuo has a panic attack every time he picks up a paintbrush. You’re the reason Miki shakes in terror whenever she’s around men. You’re the reason that Yukki killed herself!”

“YOU’RE INSANE!” bellowed Madarame, grabbing onto Natsuhiko’s collar. “Do you think I wanted that to happen? I loved you all like my own children.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it. We’re terrified of you.”

“How dare you treat me like this! I took you in when no one else wanted you. I saw potential in you when you were just a homeless delinquent - when everyone saw you as trash – and this is how you treat me?” He sounded genuinely upset and Yusuke felt a little guilty.

Madarame continued. “You’ve always been manipulative but this is a new low, even for you. Prank calling 911 is a crime you know.”

“I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did. You called the police out of spite. All because you want revenge for nothing.”

Natsuhiko stared at him. “That’s not- I’m didn’t- You’re lying.”

“Let’s see what the cops think,” growled Madarame. “Whose story are they going to believe? The accomplished, famous artist or the high school drop out who never amounted to anything? I know who’s side I’d be on.”

There was a ring at the front door. “That will be them now. It’s not too late to back down.”

Natsuhiko faltered for a moment - for just long enough for Yusuke to think he had given up – before giving Madarame a sharp glare and shaking his head.

“Suit yourself,” said Madarame. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

***

The officer inspected Yusuke’s wrist. Traces of blood lingered amongst the red paint.

“You’re saying he did this?” asked the officer, gesturing towards Natsuhiko. Madarame gave a nod.

“I’m afraid so,” he sighed. "Natsuhiko tends to get a little aggressive with his brother when they play.”

“Bullshit!” yelled Natsuhiko. “You’re lying.”

“Don’t speak to your father like that,” snapped the officer.

“But nothing he’s saying is true,” said Natsuhiko desperately. “He’s the one who hurt Yusuke, not me.”

The officer sighed and stood up. “Calling the police under false pretences is a crime. I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t do it again. If we’re done here, I need to leave.”

“You can’t leave.” Natsuhiko grabbed a hold of the officer’s sleeve. “Please, he’s lying.”

“Let it go kid,” said the officer. He slammed the front door shut on his way out.

“Go to your room Yusuke,” hissed Madarame.

Yusuke eyes flicked between Madarame and Natsuhiko, unsure and frightened.

Natsuhiko gave him a brave smile. “I’ll be okay Yusuke,” he said. “You can go.”

***

Natsuhiko limped into Yusuke’s room a while later, a shadow of the person he was, voided of all his courage. His left eye was bruised purple and black, and his lip was split down the middle.

“What did he do to you?” asked Yusuke.

“Nothing he hasn’t done before,” said Natsuhiko, sitting on Yusuke’s bed. “If you could leave today, would you do it?” he asked, wiping the blood from his lip.

There was a long empty pause

“I would,” he admitted. “Are you going to leave?”

Natsuhiko stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

***

The next morning, Yusuke woke up to a single post-it note on his bedroom door. It had a phone number written on it, as well as two words.

I’m sorry.

 Age 13

Yusuke had finished his first proper painting. He called it Grief. It had taken him hours and he was satisfied with it. The way the colours and shapes twisted upon each other was perfect and the colours were just right, which was satisfying. He had spent so long picking the right shades of blue and red that he worried he would have gone mad.

There was something profound about it. It was an apt representation of how he felt about his mothers passing - tornado of sorrow and bitterness. He barely remembered her but there was still an empty hole she had left in his heart that nothing seemed to fill.

Yusuke had proudly showed it to Madarame, rambling about his inspiration and the techniques he had used. Madarame gave him an impressed smile, that seemed ever so slightly forced.

Then, he asked Yusuke something strange. “Do you remember the day your mother died?”

“I don’t,” lied Yusuke. His recollection of the day was vague but there were shards of the memory clinging to his mind. He remembered a dark shadow, and the kind man who came to help him. He wanted to tell Madarame about the shadow, but he would never believe Yusuke.

Besides, the selfish part of his brain wanted to hold onto the final moments of his mothers life for himself.

“That’s good,” said Madarame. “I wouldn’t want you to remember something so... traumatic.” He tapped the painting. “Do you mind if I hold onto this for a little longer? I need to have a closer look before I can give you feedback.” Yusuke had been more than happy to let him keep the painting.

Two weeks later, Madarame held an abrupt exhibit. Yusuke had been excited to see what art would be on display. Madarame had been struggling with significant art block for weeks and Yusuke was glad that he was feeling creative again.

Yusuke was floored when he saw the principal piece of the exhibit. It was the painting he had poured his heart and soul into encased in a gaudy ,golden frame.

For a moment, he thought Madarame had put it up by accident. He glanced around. His mentor was just a few feet away, happily chatting with a critic. He hadn’t even noticed the mistake. Should he tell him?

Madarame walked over and stopped in front of the painting. He would have to realise his mistake now. Right? The critic studied the artwork with an enamoured look on his face. “This is a fascinating piece,” he said. “I'd love to know your inspiration.”

Madarame gave a serpent’s grin. “This piece is one of my favourites in this collection. It plays with the concept of fame and how it effects one’s ability to create art.”

The fan nodded. “I see. That makes a remarkable amount of sense.”

Bullshit! Everything Madarame had said was bullshit. He had stolen Yusuke’s art. Yusuke had ripped open his own heart and poured it onto the canvas, and Madarame had taken it like it meant nothing. Yusuke wouldn’t have minded Madarame taking credit for it either, as long as he had asked and hadn’t corrupted the meaning like that. That was unforgivable.

He listened to the two men talk for a little while longer. Once the critic was gone, he pulled Madarame far away from prying eyes or ears.

“Why did you steal my painting?” he demanded.

Madarame frowned. “I didn’t steal anything Yusuke. You agreed to let me use it for this exhibit.”

“I agreed for let you keep it for a bit. I never agreed to this!”

“Stop being so selfish,” snapped Madarame. “I’ve done everything for you these past years. You owe me. The least you can do is stop being such a brat.”

“But this painting is so personal...” muttered Yusuke, looking anywhere but Madarame’s face. Why did he feel like the bad guy? Madarame was in the wrong. Madarame had stolen from him and lied and hurt him. So why did Yusuke feel so guilty about upsetting him?

“All paintings are personal,” said Madarame. “Yours is nothing special.”

“But I –"

“You’re being ridiculous Yusuke. This conversation is over. You agreed to this and getting upset over nothing isn’t helping anyone. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an exhibit to attend to.” He whirled around and walked away, leaving Yusuke standing alone, confused and guilty.

Age 15

The feeling of the paintbrush in Yusuke’s hand was familiar and reassuring. The growling feeling in his stomach was familiar as well, though it did nothing to comfort him. He put down his brush and looked up from the painting he was working on.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

Madarame sipped his green tea. “Be patient.”

Yusuke frowned. “But I want to eat now.”

“Don’t be selfish Yusuke.”

“But—”

“Just finish this painting, then you can eat,” Madarame stood up and setting his cup in the sink.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He patted Yusuke on the shoulder as he left the room. Yusuke listened to him fetch his coat, leave the house and lock the door behind him. It wasn’t unusual for Madarame to go out in the evenings, so Yusuke paid it no mind.

He returned to his painting, the hunger gnawing at him like a wild beast.

 Yusuke finished his painting after a few hours and immediately went to start another. It wasn’t that late, not really. It was barely even dark outside. Besides, the more work he did, the happier Sensei was. It was a simple equation really. Hard work went in one end and kindness came out the other.

The next time he checked the clock, it was nearly midnight. His eyes strained when he pulled them away from the canvas. When had it gotten so late?

He really should eat something.

When he checked the fridge, he found it was nearly empty. Yusuke wouldn’t be sent grocery shopping until Sunday and the food would have to last until then. Besides, the gnawing in his stomach had calmed a bit. He could survive another night.

Something deep down told him he doesn’t deserve anything anyway.

Yusuke tidied up after himself and went to his frigid room. It was always cold in there because the radiators didn’t work. They broke down a few weeks after Natsuhiko left and had never been fixed.

He didn’t have much - just his futon, a small table and an easel in the corner - but it was enough. Madarame had always preached that worldly possessions and wealth corrupted an artist. You couldn’t be creative if you were happy and content. You needed to suffer.

Art is borne through suffering. Art requires sacrifice. Pain is temporary but Art is forever.

He lay down on his futon, exhausted and hungry. A tiny shard of anxiety lingered in his mind, keeping him awake. Madarame still wasn’t home. It was unusual for him to stay out this late without warning Yusuke first.

Yusuke was probably just being paranoid. Everything would be fine. His sleep slowly came to him, like snow settling on the ground, only to kicked around by the first person to deem it’s existence inconvenient to them.

He was startled from his brief rest by a sharp banging at the door. Yusuke dragged himself out of bed and went to let him in. Opening the door, he saw something he didn’t expect.

It was Madarame.

He was drunk.

Yusuke knew that Madarame drank – it wasn’t a secret – but he had never actually seen him drunk before. Whenever he stayed out late, he would slink off to bed while Yusuke was asleep, being careful to not wake him up. Yusuke would find him hungover the next morning and connect the dots.

Madarame looked like shit. That was the simplest way to describe it. There was vomit down his shirt, he reeked of whisky and his hair was wild and unkempt, as if he had been caught in a hurricane on his way home. He swayed on his feet, to intoxicated to keep his balance.

“What are you doing awake?” he slurred. “It’s late. You have school tomorrow.”

I was up late worrying about you.

“You’re drunk,” said Yusuke, slightly more accusatory than he intended.

Madarame bristled. “I’m not drunk,” he snapped. “I’m just a little… tipsy.”

Why does he even bother to lie?

“I think I’m going to be sick again,” muttered Madarame, stumbling into the house.

Yusuke grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the bathroom. Madarame retched and Yusuke went to pull his hair out of his face so he didn’t get sick in it.

As it turns out, helping your drunk father puke at one o’clock in the morning is not fun. Madarame looked rather pathetic, and Yusuke wondered why he kept doing this to himself. It only ever brought him pain.

Helping Madarame into his bedroom, Yusuke handed him a clean set of clothes. He turned around while Madarame got changed and took the soiled clothes from him afterwards.

“You are so much like your mother Yusuke,” croaked Madarame, as he settled down. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I see her eyes staring back at me.”

Yusuke didn’t remember his mother, but from the few blurry pictures that he had found around the shack, left forgotten in notebooks and stashed away in drawers, he knew they looked a lot alike. They shared the same dark hair, cool-grey eyes and lean stature. They could have been twins.

“I loved your mother,” wept Madarame, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wish I did something differently that day. I could have saved her.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” reassured Yusuke. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

Madarame rolled over to his side, racked with sobs, and Yusuke comforted him until he fell asleep. He wasn’t slightly surprised when he only got to bed himself at four in the morning.

He was even less surprised when he fell asleep in class the next morning. His teacher hit him over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper and Yusuke jumped so hard he almost fell out his chair.

“No sleeping in class,” he snapped. “Why on earth are you sleeping anyway? Did you stay up late watching television or something?”

Yusuke nodded.

He didn’t know what he would say. How would he explain that his father is falling apart at the seams? That he seems to be drunk more often than he is sober? It makes him feel lonely and isolated. There is no way that his teacher could understand.

No one could possibly understand.

 Age 16

Yusuke was staying at Ren’s house for the night. It felt strange to sleep in the same room as another person; he hadn’t shared a room with someone since his mother died.

He couldn’t sleep, anxiety swirling in his chest. What if something had happened to Madarame? What if he had a mental shutdown? Even after everything Madarame had done to him, Yusuke didn’t want him to die. He tried to reassure himself that Madarame had been okay when he had made his confession.

Still, they didn’t know much about the mental shutdowns. Could they be delayed? He wanted to poke Morgana awake and ask him, but decided not to. He didn’t want to be a nuisance. Morgana flicked his tail in his sleep and Yusuke hoped he was having a nice dream.

It was too quiet in the attic. The only sound was the rain beating down on the roof and Ren snoring on the couch. Ren had insisted that he take the bed, which only made Yusuke feel more guilty. Ren had done so much for him and Yusuke didn’t want sink further in his debt.

You’re so selfish Yusuke. You always use people.

He wanted to wake Ren up. He wanted to feel less alone. He wanted to let out this worry before it ate him alive. Ren had said that Yusuke could wake him if he needed him.

But you don’t need him, not really. You want him, but you don’t need him.

He decided to let him sleep. Yusuke stared at Ren, pondering. Why had he helped Yusuke in the first place? He had been so rude to him and his friends when they’d first met. Still, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to hold a grudge. He had probably forgiven Yusuke already.

Hopefully.

Yusuke laid back in bed, trying to force himself to sleep. He jumped a little when his phone vibrated on the windowsill. Someone was calling him. No one ever called him.

He was about to decline the call, when he recognised the number. Trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Ren up, he spoke.

“Natsuhiko?”

“Yusuke, there’s something I need to tell you,” said Natsuhiko. He paused, as if trying to figure out what to say next. “There’s no easy way to say this but Madarame is dead.”

“What?” exclaimed Yusuke. Ren stirred on the couch. Yusuke lowered his voice. “How did you—"

“I have a friend who works at the Police Hospital,” explained Natsuhiko. “He told me.”

“That can’t be true…” Madarame couldn’t be dead. Yusuke couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it.

Natsuhiko sighed, his voice more sympathetic that Yusuke expected. “He was an old man Yusuke. Being arrested put too much stress on his heart and he couldn’t handle it.”

“Sensei always had a weak heart...” mumbled Yusuke as a wave of guilt crashed over him. He had done this. He had killed his father. And for what? A mere slight or two? Was that worth snuffing out a human life?

Natsuhiko sighed and for a split-second Yusuke thought Natsuhiko knew what he had done. His logical side reminded him that was ridiculous.

“Look, I wanted to be the one to tell you this rather than some stranger,” said Natsuhiko. “Madarame wasn’t a good man but he was still your father. It’s okay to mourn him.”

There was a pause. “I have to go,” said Natsuhiko. “Are you going to be okay?” The question was as loaded as Yusuke's silence.

“I’ll be fine,” murmured Yusuke. Natsuhiko hung up, leaving Yusuke with his horrified thoughts.

He faintly realised that he was crying. Why couldn’t he stop? He was such an idiot. He was going to wake Ren up. But Yusuke couldn’t stop the tears from coming. He was a murderer. No one could know about this.

He could leave. The idea hung around his head for a minute. There was nothing trapping him here. He could just pick up his bags and leave. Escape the scorn of the only real friends he ever had.

But where would he go? He couldn’t go back to the dorms. Everyone there knew him about Madarame and he wouldn’t be able to take their pitying stares. He would stay at a motel, but he had no money. How would be pay for it?

He really had nowhere to go. Yusuke had never felt so guilty and lonely and helpless as he did in that moment. Pulling his knees to his chest, he wiped tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and did his best to quell his weeping.

You’re not seven years old anymore Yusuke. Stop crying.

He was so inside his own head that he didn’t notice that Ren had woken up until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Yusuke looked up at him through bleary eyes, his brain barely recognising his friend.

“Yusuke… Are you—"

Yusuke pushed him away and scrambled to his feet. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped.

“Yusuke, what’s wrong?” said Ren. “I just want to help you.”

“I killed Madarame! Natsuhiko just told me he had a heart attack. He’s dead and it’s all my fault.” He fell to his knees, chest heaving.

“I’m a murderer,” he sobbed. “I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted him to die.”

“You are not a killer,” said Ren, crouching down to Yusuke’s level. “I’ve only known you a week, but I know that much. You didn’t kill him.”

“But I stole his heart, knowing this could happen. He was old and weak. I should have known better.”

Yusuke was startled when Ren wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “You couldn’t possibly have predicted this Yusuke. Besides, stealing a heart doesn’t cause heart attacks. We know that much. You didn’t kill him.”

Suddenly, Yusuke was three years old again, wrapped up in his mother’s arms. He hasn’t felt safe in so long, but in that moment he found comfort again.

Ren didn’t judge him. Ren wasn’t mean or snippy, even when Yusuke got tears and snot all over his t-shirt. Ren hand rested lightly on Yusuke’s shoulder, holding him to reality when Yusuke was sure he might evaporate and float away. He is an anchor. A lighthouse in a stormy ocean. A beacon of comfort in the mess of Yusuke’s life.

Yusuke’s voice was ragged by the time he finally brought himself to speak.

“I hated him,” he muttered. “Despised him even. But there were good days. Days where I loved him. Sometimes we would sit in the den together for hours, just painting. Painting and painting and painting. He used to praise me too. “You’re such a talented painter,” he would say. “You’re such a good kid. I love you so much.”

“You never knew what to expect from him. Sweet words could be replaced with cutting insults in an instant. But I wanted that praise so badly that I would hunt for it. I would do anything he asked, just so I could hear that praise. Turn over all my art, go without food, take his insults and abuse, all for the promise of a little kindness at the end of it all. I only ever wanted to be loved. I only ever wanted him to love me.”

Yusuke buried his face into Ren’s shoulder, not wanting to see Ren’s to see his pathetic expression. “Why do I still love him? Why do I still love the man who ruined my childhood? The man who killed my mother? The man who treated me like dirt? Why can’t I just admit that he hurt me?”

“Will I always be his property?” he asked. “A portrait in his museum of stolen work. His son in name but not in practice. His prodigy. His worker. Will I ever be free from him?”

Ren held Yusuke even tighter. “You are a creator,” he said. “And you are an artist. You are so much more than your past. So much more than what he said you were. And most all, you are my friend. I care about you Yusuke.”

For the first time in his life, Yusuke knew he was hearing the truth.

[generic-internet-name]

this is just gonna be me rambling so feel free to ignore it but i don't have school tomorrow which is great because snow !! (it's been snowing since yesterday even though i live in the south) and also y'know i have no school so i have another day free (it's a teacher work-day today) but also it's NOT fun because that means it's gonna get worse and there might be black ice again like that one year and also i have two midterms and two finals this week (already took two of my midterms on Friday) and i really don't want to push them back but i guess if we have school on Wednesday it'll work out because how it goes is like First Day: midterm & midterm, then leave. Second Day: midterm & midterm, then leave. Third Day: final, then leave. Fourth Day: final, then leave

and it's not that i'm worried it's gonna be a walk in the park but last time there was snow then black ice all the grocery stores were EMPTY because everyone was stock-piling on water & food & paper towels & stuff

also i'm working on a BIG art project (for myself i'm not taking art this year) and it's going really well but i can't for the life of me figure out the finer details also did you know that's it's super difficult to draw mouths & teeth ?? even with references it is hell i still love it because it's fun and i like challenges also i'm starting to play chess because i don't have anything better to do in class and computers are so good at chess ????? i haven't won a single game solitaire is really easy and fun though i like it because it's a lot of problem solving and logic (there are so few good logic/problem solving games on cool math by the way it's annoying but it's fine because i'm branching out)

also did you know that blue jays aren't really blue ? it's a trick of the light because there is a big difference between light colours and pigments and the only species of butterfly that is actually blue is pretty rare the way they figure out if stuff is truly blue is by crushing it up and if it still looks blue then it is actually blue but if it doesn't then it's not

and did you know that the purple dye/pigment we use today was made on accident ? also there were paints that were made using real-life mummies in the 1600-1800s !! it's really looked down upon now though so it's really hard to get and now the paint's are mostly made using leather ! people also used to eat mummies but that's just gross

also if you ever need to kill someone using a blade go for either the bas of the neck (best spot is the fleshy bit where your collarbones almost touch) or the stomach cause you're gonna have a lot of trouble getting your blade THROUGH the ribs especially if they're struggling but mostly don't kill people or if you do need to then do it in a smart way that won't get you caught locker-rooms or bathrooms would work because it would make sense for your dna to be there because it IS a public space but they're aren't any cameras since that's super illegal

also at school it says that the girls bathroom is being "monitored" (it's not) i think it's because people having stealing so much that some other bathrooms are locked

anyway ily <3

i wish there was snow here. it never snows here besides the tiniest bit maybe once a year.

ooh that art project sounds epic! please show me it when you're done.

bots are really good at chess. i looked up human-bot chess matches but the wikipedia page was boring so i'll just say i'm pretty sure most pro players have a hard time beating a bot.

that's really interesting. colors are so cool. I think i knew purple dye was an accident and i also knew mummies were used as pigment and medicine but like. who the hell looks at an ancient mummified corpse and thinks "i should make paint out of that" or "i could eat that as medicine and it definitely won't make me worse"

my dad actually has a tool to kill ducks like that! for if he shoots one down but it's not dead, he has this little curved spike and he stabs it into the divot in the back of the skull to properly kill it. if you want to kill someone with a knife it probably wouldn't work but a big curved spike would be very easy. but i personally prefer thinking about poison for the cottagecore aesthetic <3 oleander is a very common garden plant, and if you find a death cap or destroying angel they destroy the liver before any symptoms show. and hemlock is all over one of the trails at the beach near my school.

ilyt <3

[ravs6709]

These Feelings Inside (How Deep Do They Go)

Chapter 3- Too Many Questions

Masterlist. Previous. Next chapter.

Read on ao3.

Let's go! Chapter 3 of the fic for the @kotlc2021collab !

I had larger plans for this chapter tbh, but I ended up stretching one of the scenes, so the chapter became very long (over 3k words). It was fun though!

Uh, warnings. (Censored) swearing, Sophie thinking about what would have happened to her if there wasn't a siren lure (the thought isn't completed, but still). I don't think there's anything else?

Anyways, enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie woke to a feeling of intense cold. Heavy rain was pouring.

Wait, where am I?

The rain made it hard to see her surroundings, but it didn't take long for her to figure out that she was outside, in a beach-like setting. She wasn't on the mainland- she was on a mini-island with a small cave.

What happened?

She tried to think about what had happened earlier. She remembered Fitz backing away, and her needing to go outside for air. But what happened after that? How did she end up here?

Breathe. You need to breathe.

She took long, deep breaths. She was in an unfamiliar place, and if she let panic overtake her now, it'd only make things worse.

Okay, first things first. It's raining and there's a cave. You should go dry off.

She moved to go inside the cave, only to nearly step on a person. Wait, a person?

On closer inspection, the person was pale, and had messy blond hair. They were somewhat slender, yet still muscular and- 

"Holy sh*t!" Sophie shrieked, because she finally properly took in the revelation that there was someone else on the island with her.

How did they get here? Then again, she didn't even know how she got there either. How long were they there? Were they… were they dead? She vaguely remembered the feeling of falling. Maybe she managed to survive unscathed, but what if this person wasn't so lucky?

Check if they're alive. One thing at a time.

She looked at them, and found it weird that they didn't have a shirt on.

Don't get distracted!

They seemed to be breathing, but just to make sure, she put a hand to their neck to check their pulse. She sighed in relief when she could feel it easily.

"Uh… hello?" she called out. "Hello?"

They didn't stir. Were they unconscious? Her first instinct was to put water on them, only to once again remember that it was raining. If that didn't wake them up, she wasn't sure what would.

"Are you okay?" she asked once more.

She didn't know if poking them would be a good idea. She looked back towards the mainland. It didn't seem too far- however swimming wasn't particularly Sophie's strong suit. It was either swim, or wait and just hope that somehow the two of them would be found. Who knows how long that would take though? It would have to take at least a day.

What are mom and dad gonna say if I get home so late? What about Biana and Fitz? They'd be concerned, right?

She thought about Fitz again. Would he… how long would it take him to notice that I wasn't there?

Sophie turned back towards the person, who was still lying unconscious. 

"Okay," she murmured to herself. "I'm going to swim, and then I'll get some help. That doesn't seem too hard, right?"

As she made her way to the water, there was a groan. She whirled around again, and saw that the person was moving. Their eyes fluttered open, then focused on her. Or well, their gaze altered between looking at her chest and legs?

"What the f*ck?" she asked. "Stop staring at me!"

They hummed, then stood up, their legs trembling. The action reminded her of a baby making its first steps.

"Careful!" she said, rushing over to help them when they tripped over their feet.

"Okay sweetheart," they said, flashing a grin at her. Then their gaze flicked towards her chest. "Would you mind explaining what's going on?"

Sweetheart? Also why are they staring at me like that!?

"Who are you calling sweetheart?" she grumbled, pushing them away from her. "My name is Sophie Foster. So use my name. And quit staring at me."

They didn't look offended at all, they only smirked and Sophie felt like she was about to regret everything. "Okay, Foster. Why are you here?"

"I fell and washed up here?" she replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice because they called her 'Foster.' "Aren't you concerned as to why you're here? Are you okay?"

They shrugged. "I know why I'm here, I'm not sure as to why you're here. You shouldn't be." They gazed down again, and she had the urge to hit him because that was really uncomfortable.

But she resisted that urge, and only raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean? It's not like you know me."

They sighed. "Can't you tell that something's wrong? Your heart's still glowing."

"What do you mean my heart is glowing?" Was that why they kept looking at her like that?

"Look… come in the water, I need to see something. Something's wrong."

She had no idea what they were talking about, but she followed them to the water. Before they could get there though, they tripped. 

"Next time I see ver, I'm telling ver that walking is overrated," they grumbled, before getting up and continuing.

"That's the second time you fell over," she remarked. "You sure you're okay?"

They turned around to face her. "Aww, you worried about me, Foster?" Then they winked.

She had two very conflicting reactions to that. On one hand, they seemed a little cocky, and the flirting wasn't really helping. On the other, they were attractive, and she hated the fact that she noticed that. Their ice blue were sparkling, and the messy blond hair only made them look better. (She was very consciously trying to ignore the fact that they were shirtless).

Focus on something else! Like… like how I've been able to hold a conversation. Or literally anything else. 

"For someone who was bothered by me staring at them, you sure have been staring at me for a long time."

"Look, I-"

"Never mind, we don't have time for this." They grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the water. 

Because the action was so abrupt, she tripped over her feet, and fell. She opened her eyes and tried to surface, but there was something off about her legs. She could feel down there, but her body refused to separate, as if glued together. 

Why can't I- why can't I move?

"You can breathe, Foster," the stranger told her. "You're not going to drown."

Before her mind can tell her that actually, that is exactly how you drown, her body took a breath. Strangely, it felt okay.

No longer fearing that she was going to drown, she was able to notice her surroundings. Her vision was clear, just as good as it was on land (which was weird). She saw the stranger, and again, their eyes were looking down at her legs. 

She was about to yell at them, until she finally realized something. They had a tail. It was ice blue, matching the shade of their eyes. 

"Uh, what is happening?" she blurted. "Why do you have a tail?"

To her surprise, they laughed. Then they gestured to her. "You should look at yourself first."

Sophie looked down, and instead of seeing legs, she saw a tail similar to the stranger's. Instead of blue, it was a bright red.

"What the f*ck!?"

What was happening? Seeing the tail on the stranger was shocking, but in a way, it wasn't that surprising. Sophie had been a very large fan of mermaids, and had gone through a time of her life where she had wished that they were real. She was still a fan of them and wanted for them to be real, but after her life had gotten better, that desire had lessened.

So if she happened to meet a person who happened to be washed up on an island, it wouldn't be too surprising that they were somehow a merperson. 

The true question was- why did she have a tail?

"What did you do to me?" she yelled.

They swam a little closer. "Foster, I-"

"Stay away from me!" she screamed, thrusting her arms forward to push them back.

The water distorted, and then they were launched backwards. They recovered quickly, moving with ease.

"What did I just do?" she demanded, because she just pushed the water. "What is going on?"

"Look Foster, before I can explain, I need you to take a few breaths. Your heart is flashing too much and it's drawing attention. You're too overwhelmed."

"Well I wonder why!" she snapped. "It's not like I'm suddenly a mermaid or something!"

"First off, you're a siren." 

"Well thanks, that helps a lot," she muttered.

"Second, sirens can see the hearts of other humans. For some reason, I can still see your heart, and it's flashing all sorts of colours right now. The last thing that we need is for you to draw too much attention." Their tone was slow, and any of the humor or confusion was gone. "I don't expect you to understand, I just need you to be calm enough to listen. Can you breathe?"

They didn't approach her this time, giving her some space. She took a couple of deep breaths. "Okay, please explain."

"It's going to be a lot to take in. Are you going to be okay?"

Sophie shrugged. "I'll try my best."

"Okay, I'll get started. Right now, we're sirens. We're not quite what you hear in the stories. Being a siren is both a blessing and a curse. How this all works, it's a cycle. A human has a broken heart, a siren has the power to seek out those broken hearts. A siren makes the offer for the human to let go of their life, and the human agrees. The siren becomes a human, and the human becomes a siren. Does that make sense?" They had used their hands to make motions in the water, which helped out a lot.

"I think? Why are sirens seeking out broken hearts?"

"It's not fun being a siren. We lose our memories of our human life. For the most part, we just swim in the water alone. There aren't many of us, and even if we do find someone, we're not meant to stay with each other for long. It's a life of isolation. Becoming a human again is the only way to escape."

"Oh," she murmured. "The heartbroken person hears the offer, and accepts it, because they want to escape from their pain, right?"

They nodded. "Exactly. Are you starting to remember what happened now?"

There was some gap between her being outside, her falling, and then being washed onto the shore. "Remember what?"

"You had a broken heart. Did someone you love try to abandon you?"

No, she told herself. Don't think about that again.

"That doesn't matter. Continue."

They paused, as if trying to consider how to phrase what they were going to say next. "I'm a siren. You were a human with a broken heart."

It finally sank in. "You tried to turn me into a siren. Except… this happened."

I was heartbroken enough to the point of throwing my life away.

"Yeah, kinda, but to be fair, our siren song is designed to make your feelings worse." 

What if there was no siren to lure me? What would I have done? Could I have… could I have-

"Foster, neither of us knows what happened earlier. Whatever you're thinking, I doubt that's the case. I don't know what happened, but you managed to not be turned completely. Doesn't that matter?"

She blinked, then took in the words. "How did you-"

"A heart glows different colours based on different emotions. I don't see fear often, and it's honestly kind of stressing me out."

"Do you know how to change me back?"

"Not until you can figure out why the curse didn't affect you fully."

She crossed her arms. "Did you just say 'you'? This is your fault, and now you're leaving me to deal with the consequences?"

"Well, my plan was to just kiss you and leave!"

"You kissed me?"

Their eyes widened and laughed nervously. "Well, that's how you initiate the exchange. It's not like I remember it much."

She backed away a little bit.

They sighed. "Look Foster, it's not like we get a choice. You can have a whole debate about the issues of the situation, or you can go try and figure this out."

"Again. You're leaving me to do this? We are going to figure this out. You've been a siren, and you said that sirens lose their memories, right? You wouldn't have a home then." She paused, swam forward a bit, then added, "You should come live with me."

"You want me to come live with you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I mean, that way we can work together. And you're going to need a home. We should go, my parents are going to be worried. Oh crap, what do I tell them?"

"You live with your parents?"

"Yeah, I do. I don't have any plans on moving out either, I help them with work. I don't want to make them worry, so I'm going to have to make an excuse as to why you're living with us."

"Can't you just say that a distant family member reached out?"

"That won't work. Let's head back, and hope that by then I can think of something. Okay… wait, do you have a name?"

"Sirens don't know their identity, so we choose our own. My name's Keefe, I once heard from someone that it means 'handsome'."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd choose a name that means that. Do you have pronouns? Mine's she/her."

"I use they/them."

"Okay, we should actually go now."

It took a little while to figure out how to move properly, and to be honest, it was a much needed distraction from everything that was now going on.

"You know Foster, how did you plan on getting back home? Swimming?" Keefe asked once they reached the mainland.

"Uh, yeah? It's not like it took long," Sophie replied, checking to make sure that there was no around before getting out of the water. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I actually miss having legs."

"Well I don't," they muttered, slowly making steps, their legs trembling. "How do people manage this? I'm freezing!"

She was about to make a somewhat mocking reply, before she realized that it was cold. The temperature was already quite low, and the rain- that had just recently subsided to a light drizzle- didn't make things better.

"You'll be fine with walking, right?"

"Don't worry Foster, I can walk. It'll just take me a bit to adjust, just like you had to adjust to swimming."

"Yeah yeah. Oh, you should probably take my sweater, it'll be weird if you walk around shirtless, and my dad will definitely be suspicious if he sees you like this."

"It won't be weird if I'm wearing your sweater?"

She shrugged. "Not like I have any other choice." She took off her sweater and gave it to them. It was a little small on them, but not as bad as she thought it was going to be.

"Okay, let's go."

Sophie was bad with directions, but she was lucky that she recognized the area. So, it didn't take too long to find the flower shop. Since the back entrance was closer, that was where she went. It only took a few seconds after she knocked for the door to open.

"Sophie!" Edaline called out, immediately hugging her. 

Sophie hugged her back, and heard more footsteps. Grady came running, a relieved expression on his face. He wrapped his arms around the both of them, putting them in a warm, protected embrace.

After it was over, Grady asked, "Sophie, who's this?"

She turned to where Grady was pointing to, momentarily forgetting that Keefe was there.

Oh, I completely forgot to make an excuse.

"That's my friend Keefe!" she told them. She knew that wasn't going to be enough, so she mustered the courage to make eye contact with Edaline (she would be less skeptical about her excuse, so Sophie would be less stressed about worrying whether they could see through her lies or not). 

"They're a friend I made online. I went out for some air today, and came across them. They don't really have a home to stay in, so I offered to let them live with us."

There, that (mostly) wasn't a lie.

"They don't have anything on them, but they'd be willing to work in the shop. Right Keefe?"

She turned towards them, half hoping that she could telepathically tell them to agree. 

They nodded. "Yeah, I'll help out."

"I'm sorry that you're in a situation like this," Edaline said.

"We're willing to let them live with us," Grady continued. "We'll have to deal with the issue of having a piece of identification, if we wanted to pay them-"

"Put whatever you pay me in Foster's name. It'll be easier that way."

Sophie turned back towards her parents, and saw that they were sharing a look (it reminded her of the way that they would look at each other whenever Jolie was indirectly brought up, back when Sophie had only just learned of her.

"Okay, we can do that for now. Now, the both of you should come inside, you're drenched. Eda, get some towels."

They went inside, and Sophie noticed that Keefe was staring around in awe. She walked up to him. 

"It's a flower shop," she whispered to them. "That's what you'll be helping out with. They'll probably not ask too many questions now, but there'll be more in the morning. Got it?"

"Got it. Also, are there supposed to be more peo-"

"Okay, we should be good," Biana's voice echoed through the shop. "We'll go looking for- Sophie! You're back!"

Sophie turned towards her, just in time to see Biana run up towards her.

"Are you in the mood for a hug- oh… you're drenched. Is everything alright?"

"Biana?" she murmured. You're… here… what about-

The sound of even more footsteps jolted her from her thoughts, and she looked and saw Fitz. Before she could say anything else, he ran up to her. She could see his face much more clearly, his eyes looked red, and his hair was a mess. Had he been crying?

"Sophie, I'm so glad that you're back," he whispered.

"Everything was fine though!" She hoped that her voice would be believable, but the sudden proximity and the words he spoke were making it harder to think.

"You can tell us what happened, but you and your friend should get changed," he said.

Sophie took Keefe upstairs, and found some of Fitz's clothes and gave those to them so they could get changed.

"Oh, they're a bit big on you," Sophie remarked after they both finished. Fitz was taller, and had more weight.

They stretched casually. "They're comfy. Your crush has good taste."

She sputtered. "What?"

Keefe smirked. "Really Foster, do you seriously think that I couldn't tell based on the way you two were staring into each other's eyes? Besides, your heart was glowing pink. That usually means love."

"Look-"

"Yeah yeah, I'll behave. You gotta go tell them that story again. Seriously though, what a lame story."

"I'm really bad at being put on the spot, alright? I had to make it believable!"

"Well, can't do anything about it now. I just have to roll with it."

They went back down, and she once again explained her excuse as to what had happened, and why Keefe was with her. It was easier to explain this time, because she now had the story in her head. All she had to do was make sure that she didn't contradict herself.

"So, Keefe's staying here?" Biana asked. "Okay, I'll go show them around. Come on Keefe!"

Sophie watched in amusement as Biana grabbed Keefe's arm and pulled them up the stairs, the blond protesting about "being able to walk by myself."

"Are you hungry?" Edaline asked. "Do you want us to take out dinner for you?"

"That would be nice, thank you." Now that it was mentioned, Sophie did feel hungry.

Both her parents went to the kitchen to reheat the meal, and now it was just her and Fitz in the room. 

"I know that it's more complicated than what you said," Fitz whispered, taking her hands in his. "You don't normally go out for a walk by yourself unless you're upset. I'm sorry that I didn't notice it when I was the last person to see you."

I felt bad because you left. I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore. But... you're still here.

She didn't want to worry him though, so she kept quiet.

"If Keefe gives you trouble, or if something's wrong, you can tell me, okay?"

"It'll be fine. But okay, I'll tell you if it's not."

And things would be fine. They'd have to be.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Taglist- @keefeinnit @impostertamsong @my-swan-song @subrosasteath @tiergan-andrin-alenefar

Want to be added/removed from the taglist? Just let me know! (You can also specify whether if for all kotlc fics or just this one story)

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is).  Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

[outer-bnks]

Two Burning Hearts Are Dared to Break (JJ x OC) Ch. 8

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Elle finds out bad news about the police investigation and calls Kie and Pope to help her decide whether to tell JJ or not. 

Warning: mentions of police

A/N: The Pogues don’t know that Rafe killed Sheriff Peterkin for the premise of this story so Elle and the others think he’s *innocent*.

Word count: 1.4k

The startling sound of Elle’s ringtone woke her from the deepest sleep she’d had the past few weeks. She’d only been able to sleep for 2 to 3 hours in bursts before waking up breathless and sweating from nightmares of the storm, so being disturbed in the middle of such a peaceful slumber irritated her. 

“Hey Dad, what’s up”, she answered, fumbling with her earring to calm her nerves after seeing his name appear on her phone.

“Hi Elle, I just got off the phone with the lawyer, and… it’s not looking too good”, he sighed. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What does that mean. “What? What are you talking about?”.

She heard her Dad let out a sigh before continuing, “Well, they’re continuing the investigation because they don’t believe you and Kie were the only ones who had anything to do with what went down. Especially with the trouble the boys have been in previously”.

Her head began to swim with all the negative possibilities that could happen. “Wait, are you telling me that JJ and Pope are getting investigated? On what evidence?”, she pushed.

“I’m not sure, Shoupe said and I quote that he ‘wasn’t allowed to disclose that’”.

“That’s bullshit!” she exclaimed, feeling herself getting angrier by the minute.

“I know darling. But he did tell me that JJ owes money, and has some possible breaking and entering charges, do you know about any of those?” Elle could feel her chest closing in on itself with the thought of JJ getting into anymore trouble. 

“No Dad of course not. Uh, what about Pope?”

“He didn’t mention anything, to be honest I think his case for Pope is a lot weaker than it is for JJ, knowing what JJ’s like”. Usually she would defend JJ, but the end of his sentence went in one ear and out the other once finding out about Pope.

Silence filled the line, Elle too caught up in her thoughts attempting to piece everything together.

“You need to stop hanging around these kids Elle, they’re clearly no good for you”

“I’ll tell you what Dad, you get a say in who I hang out with when here for more than 2 weeks at a time. Thanks for the information, I’ve got to go”, she fired back, promptly ending the call. 

Giving this information to Elle wasn’t a good idea. The most indecisive of the Pogues,  she now had to debate whether to tell the others or not. She knew that she should tell them, to keep them in the loop of the investigation. But telling the boys that Shoupe was going to do a deep-dive on them, would only result in chaos. Pope would freak out, his anxiety sky-rocketing and mulling over a possible criminal record that would make all his hard work this year for his scholarship redundant. 

Elle could predict how JJ would react; rebellion or packing up and running. Neither was particularly ideal. She wouldn’t even know where to find him after 2 weeks of no contact. She ignored that dreaded feeling in the pit of her stomach that rose whenever she thought of him and tried to think logically about her options.

How could this happen? Peterkin being shot by who they believed to be Ward. John B had never gotten around to telling them who it was, but they knew that he, Ward and Sarah were the only ones present when it happened, making it an obvious no brainer. And yet, John B was the one framed, and now that he’s not around for them to blame, they’re going to place it on the next best thing, the Pogues. 

Elle paced back and forth as she contemplated what to do next, twirling her rings around her fingers, thoughts rushing through her mind, one being replaced by the next. Settling on a decision, she walked back over to her phone resting on her bed, opening up their group chat and typing out, “We need to meet. Can y’all be at mine in 30?”.

-----

“So what’s going on?” Kie asked, plopping herself onto the outside sofa on the porch. Her and Pope had arrived together, something Elle wouldn’t have found strange previously but now left her feeling a tad uncomfortable. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of them together during all of this, and she was yet to properly talk to either of them about it and figure out what was actually going on.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for their reactions as she filled them in on everything her Dad said. 

Pope’s face visibly drained of colour, and Kie’s eyebrows creased with worry. “Oh shit, I’m done for aren’t I”, Pope said, placing his head in hands and staring at the ground. 

Elle took that as her cue to calm him down, “You’re not done for Pope, they haven’t even found anything yet”.

“Elle that doesn’t matter, they’re searching as. we. speak.”, he added, pausing between his words for emphasis of the severity of the issue.

Kie who had remained silent processing the information butted in, “Does JJ know?”.

Waving her hands around in front of them to draw attention to the three of them, she replied frustratedly, “No, as you can see, he’s a no show”. 

Kie nodded solemnly, picking up the sadness underlying Elle’s words, “So you’re still not talking”, she pressed gently.

A sarcastic laugh escaped her, “Bingo!”.

Pope looked between the girls, sensing the tone of the conversation and awkwardly adding, “I uh… know where he is, and you’re not gonna like it E.”

Her head perked up, eyebrows raised with interest, “What, where? With his dad?”.

“Not exactly”, Pope paused, trying to prepare himself for her reaction, “he’s working at Barry’s, trying to pay him back for what he stole from his place.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me, Elle thought. “I’m sorry, what? Are you joking right now? He’s working as a dealer?!”, she spoke, feeling her hands becoming clammy with stress as this conversation progressed.

Pope shook his head vigorously, “No, not as a dealer. He’s doing maintenance on the house and his land. Apparently there's enough work needed to be done to repay everything he stole”.

She couldn’t believe her ears right now. He was going to earn 30k back from doing handyman work? She let out a sigh, “This is insane. He’s literally turned to the dark side. I have money, Kie has money, why didn’t he just come to us?”.

It was Pope’s turn to let out a sarcastic chuckle, “Do you really think that JJ, our JJ, JJ Maybank, would ask you for money to pay back someone for something you told him not do in the first place. Not with his pride and stubbornness Elle”.

Pope was right. Of course he wouldn’t do that. He liked to fend for himself, for everything. There was no way he was going to actually ask anyone for help. “Do you guys think we should tell him. I think it’s just going to make things worse and I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Elle questioned softly. 

Pope and Kie both took a couple of seconds to think. Pope finally making a decision, “Yeah, I do Elle. He’s going to end up in a much worse place than just working for Barry if we don't get him out. I tried to talk to him the other day. All he said was that I didn't need to worry about him anymore and something about freeing me from his chains,  which made no sense but I know that what he meant wasn't good”. 

“Ok, I’m going to head over there and try and get him out”, Elle stated, grabbing her phone and getting ready to leave.  

Kie let out a soft laugh, “Good luck with that. If there’s anyone he loves saving him from his messes, it's you”. 

Elle could hear the sarcasm dripping off her words. She did have a habit of cleaning up his messes, whether he liked it or not. That’s what friends do right? They help you out when you need it, they give you money when you’re broke, they call you out on your bullshit? And then they ignore any attempts of contact for 2 weeks after breaking your heart? That’s how friendship works, right?

-----

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[palettepainter]

Could we have a looksee at Haiya’s parents? The ones he had before being adopted by evtoplasm and Powerloader

Here are the dick parents-

I’m still figuring out parts to their story so I’ll drop some notes here too just so I don’t forget them

WARNINGS: Mentions of emotional abuse

-Haiya’s dad Juden was generally a good student. He was his classes class representative and is very good at organizing events. His quirk isn’t the best in terms of brute force, and the draw back being he has to create a large amount of static by moving if he wants to really affect an objects movement. The business world can be harsh, so Juden learns to adapt to the harsh world of work - he’s very good at twisting words and arguments in his favor. Due to the nature of how his quirk works he knew becoming a top hero would be much more of a challenge, accepting this fact is something he has trouble dealing with, to the point that if it’s brought up into an argument he’ll become very enraged (it’s one of the few things that can break his aloof, calm facade)

-Haiya’s mother Sokudo is a tough student born with a quirk far stronger then Juden’s. Sokudo as a child is confident and bold, filled with spunk and energy, when her quirk came through all the attention and adoration from her family and friends gave her an ego boost, which was only made worse when her family got her into a top hero school on recommendations. This put her in the mindset that she deserved to be the number one hero! She was obviously far more gifted then anyone else in the class, and she proves this fiercely by climbing to the top of her class. Despite her strengths Sokudo did not have a good reputation, and had a habit of starting fights with those she thought where stronger then her, as well as being known for going overboard in training. Sokudo does not believe in her own limitations (when she’s an adult she matures and learns to not go full out crazy), and views anything else other then physical training to be a waste. Her over enthusiasm can be mistaken for stubbornness, and this only made her reputation worsen among her classmates  

-Juden and Sokudo where not friends in high school despite being in the same course. Sokudo didn’t care for making friends and didn’t go out of her way to try and make conversation even in joint training. Juden had heard of Sokudo through other people in his class, and didn’t think much of her until around their second year when Juden had begun to take an interest in the business world, but had yet to figure out how to still make it to the top. Juden sees an opportunity in Sokudo, and Sokudo see’s right through his act, and turns him down. She was powerful, not an idiot. Juden remains calm and persistent, and his efforts are worth it. In the start of their third year Juden and Sokudo form some kind of alliance, really the two where just using the other to achieve their own goals: there was no real friendship between them. Sokudo was using Juden’s boost quirk to give her even more speed, to accelerate beyond the limits others had given her. And Juden was using Sokudo’s popularity to make himself known. This arrangement continues on after their graduation, but things don’t stay good for the two for long

-Sokudo became a pro hero, but could not go beyond being a sidekick. Her attitude and overly violent fighting style could often be seen as off putting, this was something she couldn’t understand - they where supposed to beat up villians, so what was the big deal? Who cares if she roughed them up bit. Who cares if she didn’t give the press or her fans much attention? No one said she had to be, she’s just here to live the high life. Her stubborn nature leads to her and Juden falling into fights, Juden taking the place as her right hand in the office and side kick on the field (Juden knew he was the brains behind her entire career, but he allowed Sukudo to believe she was in charge the whole time) is often the one dealing with teh consequences of Sokudo’s actions, which left him feeling more like her babysitter then work partner. Their fights become more and more frequent, until fights would break out over the smallest and mundane things. Juden reconsiders going solo with the way things where going for him, but that would mean more work in the long run as he’d have to build up an entire new work relationship with another hero, so that was a last resort. He looks into other methods, ponders for months on how to properly bring himself to the place in society he deserved. Juden had heard of quirk marriages, but had never considered the idea until he hit rock bottom. Sokudo, naturally, was not fond of the whole marriage idea, Juden was too much of a hoity toity for her tastes. Juden did not view her as his type either, far from, but with his way with words he persuades her, this could be just the thing they needed, so that they could both get what they deserved. What she deserved. 

-During Sokudo’s pregnancy the two put up the act of being a happily married couple when out in public, at home, it was a different story: Juden was strict in what Sukudo could and couldn’t do, and Sukudo acted like a whinny child the entire time. It was straining for both of them, but he pay off was worth it when they are gifted a baby boy - Haiya - who as they hoped, was gifted with both quirks when he turned five. Sukudo was eager to start training (btw want to clarify here their way of training wasn’t the Endevour way of training, Sukudo nor Juden ever laid a hand on Haiya despite how bad they where as parents), but Haiya just wasn’t all that interested in being the strongest, he much rather preferred to climb trees or colour. Sokudo is confused at her sons behavior, stating that neither of those things would get him far in life, didn’t he want to be someone people adored? Didn’t he want to put that power to use? What good was having such powerful quirks if Haiya didn’t use them? Sokudo didn’t intend to be mean, but her harsh wording and her uninterested tone made it come off as more of an insult - she would praise Haiya..when he did stuff she thought worth praising. Juden neither was very good at being a dad. He already had short patience, which only got worse when he and Sokudo started working together. He couldn’t understand why Haiya couldn’t solve a simple maths equation, or read a small block o text, or complete the homework his teachers set him, and he was bad at hiding at his annoyance at times. His parents had high expectations for Haiya, which Haiya - being a small child - just couldn’t meet 

- His parents sent him to a high expectations hero school out in Tokyo which was run by members of the hero public safety commission, but one year into his education and Haiya began to have increased difficulty in moving his arms. Haiya returned home the same year after failing a physical combat exam, where his parents made the discovery after a trip to the doctors of the condition with Haiya’s arms, and how it was likely in years to come in his adult life, he’d soon loose all mobility with them. His parents where frustrated at this failure, angry at the other for something neither could control - Juden blaming Sokudo that her recklessness caused Haiya to be born with weak arms, and Sokudo blaming Juden and his dumb quirk for messing them up. They begin home schooling Haiya in a last, desperate attempt to fufill their goals. More and more each day Haiya began to loose movement in his arms, and more and more his parents began to view him more as a ticket to their own successes, rather then a child who just wanted to do his own thing.

-The day Haiya had his arms removed in surgery was a shocking day to both of them, they felt ashamed, angry and spiteful of the other, their fighting continuing on even after they had Haiya sent away to live in a family in Tokyo until they could think of a solution, Despite this, they stay together - not because they hoped for a ‘happy family’, not becasue they wanted to put up the act of happy parents for their son - just because the two needed the other to get where they wanted. Sokudo needed Juden’s smarts, and Juden needed Sokudo’s strength - and they both needed Haiya, the perfect mix of both of them. Later on down the line Haiya runs away from his adoptive family, and finds his home shuffling around Tokyo, until he winds up in the therapy centre and in the care of Ectoplasm

-Not really related to Haiya’s parents but gonna put it here anyway. Haiya still suffers from occasional nightmares of his parents, and has a deep fear of disappointment because of them, often thinking that he HAS to do his best, otherwise he’s not accomplishing anything. As well as that Haiya also isn’t keen to try new things out of his comfort zone, linking to his fear of disappointment - but he’s gradually coming out of his shell with the help of people from UA.

-(This is something I want to explore more with my characters to make them a bit more related to some audience members, this is the first time I’ve decided to incorporate this into a character so forgive me if I make some mistakes. Also going to add that if you have dyslexia and are in any way offended by this I’m sorry, that was no my intention. Again, first time writting a character with dylesixa) Haiya has mild dyslexia, it’s one of the reasons he struggles so much in school when he was younger, but his parents never caught on to his disability - in Haiya’s case has difficulty interpreting words and letters, easily distracted and has trouble remembering verbal instructions. Haiya himself didn’t know he had dyslexia until he came to live at the centre. Eri who runs the centre gives children living their books to read as well as simple educational quizzes to keep them up to date, Haiya struggles with quizzes and so was brought aside by Eri so that she could help him understand the problems. Haiya at the time of learning he had dyslexia was very upset about it, it made him think he was dumb or inferior to others. With Eri and eventually’s Ectoplasm’s and Powerloaders help he’s learning to find ways to manage his dyslexia. Haiya keeps a calendar to help him remember and plan his day, carries a notebook to write down his thoughts to certain tasks, practices decoding words and reading small pieces of writing and he also has a cubix cube and lego pieces to help him relax.

Haiya still gets emotional and panicked when presented with tests, but he’s gotten a lot better

[bottleofspilledink]

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter IX

“So…” Eve began, staring at the various stands and stalls and tables with all sorts of different agendas, occasionally shifting her gaze to the people who would weave between it all.

In every sense of the word, today was, for lack of a better word, eventful.

This was most likely why, when they were gathered in the gymnasium for club sign-ups, the pair simply stood amidst the somewhat organized chaos, clueless.

“What now?” Eve pulled out the club sign-up form from her skirt pocket, thankful she hadn’t lost it in all the ruckus. “My offer still stands, I really don’t mind letting you pick the club we join.”

“I mean. I already told you earlier that I don’t really care what club we go to either way.” Lilith shrugged. She wasn’t trying to sound apathetic, but she couldn’t really remember the last time she enjoyed club time solely for it’s activities and not the friends she would do them with. “You pick.”

“Alright, we’re not gonna get anywhere with this, so how about a compromise?”

“I’m listening,” Lilith chuckled. Of course Eve would be the type to suggest something like that.

The girl in question blushed at the sound, but fought to gather her thoughts and continue.

“You can tell me the clubs you don’t like and I’ll do the same. After we narrow down the list, we can settle on a club that we both like, or at least a club that on of us can tolerate.”

“Okay, but let me tell you now, there are a lot of clubs I don’t like.”

It was Eve’s turn to laugh, her hand automatically coming to cover her mouth as she grinned and giggled.

“Tell me anyway.”

“No music club,” Lilith said, right off the bat. “I’m a mediocre singer and I don’t want to spend two or three hours a week singing hymns.”

“Reasonable enough.” Eve recalled being given a small flier when they entered, the colourful paper listing all available clubs and emptied her pockets once more in search of it before crossing out the words “music club” with a pen she had found while looking for the paper. “Anything else?”

“No home economics. You know why.”

Eve just nodded an drew a line across it.

She was doing this to make up for what she did, not draw attention to it.

“And lastly,” Lilith said, voice tinted with humor as she tried to lighten the mood, somewhat guilty when she saw Eve’s face fall when she mentioned home economics, “no math club. ‘Cause I’m not a nerd.”

The girl succeeded, getting a tiny, genuine laugh from Eve that made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wing whenever it graced her ears.

“It’s fine, I’m bad at math too.”

Lilith visibly perked up at the words, the teasing grin Eve had so missed making a comeback at long last, “I never said I was bad at math. I’m pretty good at it, actually. I just don’t like doing it more than I have to.”

“Really?” Eve joked, displaying a mock-disbelief. Lilith was no idiot, though judging by her work ethic when it came to CLE, Eve couldn’t help but make a few assumptions. “What score did you get on the practice test a few days ago then?”

“Ninety-four percent.”

At that Eve’s eyes grew wide as saucers. That was better than she had gotten, and, more surprisingly, it was better than what Mary had gotten, ninety percent, an A minus that paled in comparison to Lilith’s A.

“Oh. That’s neat.” What could she say in response to that?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to struggle to say more, as Lilith returned the question to her.

“What did you get on the test.” Lilith wasn’t the type to gloat, at least not to a person she liked, but the thought of Eve thinking her a fool or a failure wasn’t the kind of image she wanted to project either.

“Eighty-seven…” She stared at the floor in shame, suddenly enamored in the scuff marks a muddy sneaker had left on the floor, shame flooding her face in the form of blood, her cheeks taking on a soft pink for different reasons now. Who could have left this here? A student who had forgotten to clean the soles of her shoes? A janitor, maybe?

Lilith couldn’t help but melt at the sight, immediately speaking to comfort the girl.

“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be embarrassed, that’s a pretty good grade, especially coming from someone who says they’re bad at math!” She clasped Eve’s shoulder and gave a gentle, encouraging squeeze, trying to get her to look up from the floor. “That’s like, what, a solid B? A B plus even?”

When that didn’t work, she slid her hand down to Eve’s and ran the pad of her thumb over the soft skin before giving another, more tender squeeze. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you when I asked that. If you want, I can help you review for the next test?” She put on a smile and tried to sound optimistic, mind running a mile a minute as she tried to figure out what to say next.

“There’s always room for improvement!” Lilith said, stealing one of Paula’s lines in the rare occasion that Joan flubbed a test or lost a game. She’d have to thank her for that later.

Meanwhile, Eve hoped that Lilith wouldn’t be able to feel her pulse through her wrist, the pink hue her face took on having faded, only to return with a vengeance when Lilith opted to hold her hand, the way the girl soothed her thumb over her knuckles nearly sending her into cardiac arrest, the momentary squeeze stealing the air from her lungs and running for the hills, if only for an instant before she mustered up enough breath to speak.

“You’d really do that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Are you kidding me?” Lilith grinned, incredulous. “Of course I’d help! With a score like that, there isn’t even all that much to do.”

The way Eve looked at her when she said those words, amber eyes adoring and brimming with marvel as it were, Lilith couldn’t bring herself to look away, it was like she was lost and slowly, willingly sinking into the entrancing, honeyed hue that was Eve’s eyes.

She could hardly handle being the subject of the girl’s gratitude-filled gaze, her heart clenching tenderly when Eve smiled at her, because of her, soft and sweet, dimples appearing on her rosy cheeks, unaware of the near-painful longing that welled up in Lilith’s chest.

In the split second silence, Lilith wondered whether it was for better or worse that Eve didn’t know how her heart ached whenever she made her smile, knowing that Eve, kind person she was, would never want to hurt her, even in the most gentle way, the soft tightening of her chest Lilith herself would sometimes even long for.

“Anyway,” Eve said, breaking the quiet that had settled over them, “I really can’t join the art club, so that’s out of the question. My drawing skills are literally non-existent.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! The best I can do are stick figures, bee doodles, and really loopy flowers.”

They scratched that off the list and began roaming around, Eve unsure of what clubs were a hard no for her but wanting to narrow down the list further.

“Oh, definitely no debate club.” She said out the moment she saw their stand, stopwatch, hardwood podium and all.

“Okay, but why?” Lilith took the list from her and crossed it out, skimming over it in search of clubs the both of them could enjoy.

“They’re sca-“

“Lilith!”

A girl with shoulder-length black hair swishing slightly with every step came up from behind them and hugged Lilith with a fierce grip, nearly making the both of them fall to the ground in the process, her long-suffering partner, local gossip girl, Margaret, merely trailing a few paces behind her, not wanting to be associated with the girl who managed to make at least eleven heads turn towards them.

“Joan told me everything this morning. Where is she?” The girl let go, swinging her head around frantically and craning her neck in an exaggerated search. “I’m gonna beat this chick’s ass if it’s the last thing I do!”

Finally, Margaret came closer and tried to put a stop to whatever was unfolding. “Swearing is against the rules, Julia. I can report you for that.”

The girl, Julia, apparently, turned to look at her partner, joyful demeanor fading in an instant.

“So is make-up and cheating, but you don’t see me yapping about it, do you?”

That shut Margaret up effectively, cheeks probably red with indignance under her foundation.

“Anyway, where is the bitch? I’ll-“

“Okay, before you finish that sentence, I think you should know that the girl you’re calling a bitch is right beside me. Right now.” Lilith said, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her face Eve.

Julia looked at her.

She looked at Julia.

“Hi.”

“Oh shit. Hey…” They stared at each other, a split second of tension filled silence passing between them. “I’m not taking back what I said though, you’re a bitch. I mean seriously, I get not being gay but did you have to- OW!”

Lilith’s elbow met Julia’s rib, harshly.

“When did Joan say all this?” She sighed. The last thing she needed right now was someone making Eve feel worse after everything that happened today, especially now that they were just starting to patch things up and talk free of any awkwardness.

“I already told you, she said all that this morning. We sat next to each other in CLE and passed notes while Sister Jane wasn’t looking.”

“Julia, you’re fucking nuts and I love you for that,” Lilith sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “but now is really not the time. Go ask Joan or Paula to catch you up on things, they should be around here somewhere. We’re busy looking for a club. Until they tell you what happened earlier, you can not call Eve anything except Eve.”

“Oh wow, okay. I must have missed something big if you’re defending the girl who made you sob so hard, you almost-”

“The details aren’t important! Besides, you weren’t there, so you don’t know what happened.”

Julia raised a brow at the girl, shutting up to help her save face, but going in for one last tease before she went looking for Paula to see the whole picture, “I literally just said that Joan told me everything, but okay.” She put her hands up in a sort of surrender. “Say what you want, babe! I’ll get the truth out of you the next time we get wasted anyways, so yeah!” And with that she turned to leave before, rather impulsively, Eve called out to her.

“What club did you join?”

“You’re really gonna look at me and not immediately assume I’m in the softball club? You offend me, Eve. I mean really! You know what they say about softball. It’s the sport of my people!”

The blonde merely stood in silence, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing like a fish yet not a syllable leaving her lips.

Julia cackled, tossing her head back and ruffling her soft curls. “Oh God, she doesn’t know?” She asked Lilith, her eyebrows raised so far up that no one watching would be surprised if they receded even further back to join the hair on her head. “You really know how to pick ‘em, sweetheart!”

She walked away, giggling and giving them – well, more Lilith than Eve – finger guns all the while.

“Okay, I’m just going to ask. What was that whole thing about softball about?”

At this, Lilith herself couldn’t help but laugh. “Basically, it’s kinda a stereotype that, and this isn’t a thing we made up, lesbians play softball.”

Eve’s look of confusion turned to bafflement turned to a somewhat exasperated and incredulous amusement. “That makes no sense, but I’m going with it anyway. How did that even start?”

“I actually don’t know, but we went along with it too, cause why the fuck not? You know?” Lilith shrugged and they continued walking again. “There’s probably a bit of truth in there somewhere. It’s how Joan and Paula got together, so there’s that! And Julia has an ex that used to be a member.”

Eve took the list back from her while she was distracted, eyes quickly scanning over it to see if Lilith had crossed anything out while it was in her possession. “I’m assuming there’s a story behind that?”

“Yup!” She snatched the flier away from Eve once more, holding it high above her head when the girl tried to get it again. “But not one you get to hear. Not yet.”

She huffed at that. Eve, despite already standing on her toes, the four inch height difference between them made it so she couldn’t get the list back from Lilith.

“Okay then. But one last question.”

“Yeah?”

“Sweetheart? Babe?” Eve asked, a twinge of jealousy in her. Granted, she had no right to be, at least in her own mind she didn’t. She wasn’t even supposed to be feeling anything for Lilith other than disdain, but what could she do? Her only consolation was the fact she’d yet to act on said emotions.

Technically.

Eve tried to justify what she could, mind jumping from hoop to hoop, connecting loose strings, drawing lines between dots that were barely there. Earlier wasn’t anything akin to love. It was just a friend taking care of a friend.

Yes.

“Oh, that? Yeah, Julia calls everyone that, really. It’s nothing personal.” Lilith felt delusional. Were her feeling for Eve so strong as to warp her mind and affect her hearing, going so far as to imagine Eve’s voice with a pang of envy. “If you get on her good side, she’ll probably call you something too. Not what she called you earlier, though.”

A wave of relief washed over the blonde… followed immediately by guilt for feeling said relief.

It was nothing another round of mental gymnastics couldn’t fix.

The only reason she was relieved was because Lilith not being in a relationship meant that she wasn’t beyond saving.

Of course.

“I hope so, too.” Eve said. They turned to walk down a different aisle, about forty-five minutes left for them to find and join a club.

The pair strolled between stalls leisurely, narrowing down the list bit by bit, encircling the ones they had taken a particular liking to, chatting about clubs.

“The gardening club seems cool.” Lilith suggested, looking at their small stall decorated with small, origami flowers, the girls who ran it not having the heart to pluck what they had grown just yet. “It’s outside so I get some fresh air and it’s no sport, so you won’t have to strain yourself like you did in gym. Whaddya think of it?”

She looked over at Eve, only to see her frowning, a mix of disappointment and contempt in her eyes.

“I’d love to join, but I’m not allowed. My mom doesn’t like me gardening.” Her frown turned into a pout, eyes growing glassy with frustrated tears that had been building up for nearly a decade now. “She made me stop when I was eight because my hands were getting rough…”

“Use me.”

“What?”

“Use me as an excuse. Tell her I made you join it.”

Her words were temptation, the apple offered to Eve by the serpent.

Lilith held the sign-up slip and the red pen out to her, the folded paper an open invitation to rebellion. She wouldn’t force Eve, however, wanting this decision, this sin, to be hers and hers alone, the girl refusing to even write her own name on the paper.

Eve could feel the fifth commandment ringing in her ears, as the Eve before her knew she was defying god.

“Honour thy father and thy mother.”

And yet, Eve could also feel the dirt between her fingers and under her nails, the weight of a trowel in her hands, the sun beating on her back through the gaps in the leaves of their oak tree, the scent of the earth and the flowers carried by the breeze.

The nagging voice in her ears faded and morphed to the gentle buzzing of the bees and the high-pitched chirping of the birds.

Eve took the form and filled it up.

Eve took the apple and ate of it.

______________________________

Taglist: @anon-nom-nom95 @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @i-wanna-be-a-rock @extrabitterbrain @gaypeaches @phillyinthebathroom @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @pirateofblood

[lilacyennefer]

The Siren's Song II

Part 2

Summary: Jax meets with Grace, a singer, in Nero’s bar, and he can’t help, but fall in love with her immediately, and sooner he realises he never met with a woman like her before

TW: mention of a wound

24 hours passed since Jax asked Grace out on a date, and he didn’t call her yet.

To his excuse, he was really busy with some club business, and even got into a fight leaving him with a cut on his eyebrows. 

He was somehow ashamed to go on a date with Grace while having a cut on his face, but this was part of him, and his world. 

This made Jax worry about their future, if they’ll have a future. He still didn’t know much about her, but he knew that Grace didn’t know that Jax was the President of a biker gang, and she didn’t know that he was an outlaw, so he didn’t know her view on this. 

This terrified Jax, he didn’t want to lose her, but he wasn’t sure she could handle this life. It’s never too late to back out, he still could just not call her and ask her out, knowing it would leave both of them with a broken heart. But Jax’s heart would break even more if she’d leave him because who he really is, or worse, if something would happen to her because of who he was.

It was Sunday, and Jax knew that the club is closed on Monday and Tuesday, so Jax waited for Monday morning to call her, hoping that she wouldn't be mad at him.

On Monday morning Jax took her business card out of his pocket where it’s been resting since she gave it to him, and dialed her number.

After a few rings, she answered.

“Hello?” Grace’s voice was sleepy.

“Grace, hi! It’s Jax.”

“Oh!” her voice was more awake now.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Not really, I was already up.”

“Grace.” Jax started “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, I was really busy. I know it’s not an excuse.”

“Jax, it’s okay. I understand.” Jax felt like he could breathe again when Grace told her she’s not angry at him.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Jax asked the Siren hopefully.

“No, I actually don’t.” The truth was that Grace planned to spend the day in bed, watching stupid tv shows and eating trashy food.

“Would you like to come on a date? This afternoon?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Now that question made Jax stop talking. He didn’t have a plan yet.

“I don’t want anything fancy.” Grace answers for his silence. 

“Are you sure?” Jax hesitates, wanting to give her the best.

“Yes. I spend most of my days in a fancy bar. And I prefer casual anyway.”

After their phone conversation Grace texted her address to Jax so he can come and pick her up. 

She was nervous and excited about her date with Jax. Maybe, she was more nervous than excited. She didn’t have to know Jax well to know that he’s experienced and confident, he certainly is aware of the effect he has on women.

And Grace was the opposite of this. She was shy, she only had one relationship and that wasn’t a good experience, so she wasn’t sexually experienced either. The only time she felt confident was when she was on stage singing. She didn’t find herself attractive at all, but this can be led back to her first and last relationship. 

To be honest, Grace didn’t know what Jax saw in her, why someone like him asked someone like her out on a date. 

But, sooner or later, she will figure it out. 

After their phone conversation Jax had to figure out where he wanted to take Grace.

Casual, but lovely were the keywords. 

He didn’t talk about Grace to anyone yet, not because he was ashamed of her or anything like that, but because he tried to protect her from this world as long as he could. 

Jax kept thinking about where he should take her, he wanted to be alone with her, quietly, and he wanted some anonymity to himself.

And finally, he had an idea. 

Grace lives on the nicer side of Charming, with big and nice family houses, making Jax feel like an outsider again as he parked his bike in front of her house. 

As he walked to her house Jax swore he never was this nervous about a woman before. He didn’t want to fuck this up, he couldn’t fuck this up. Just the thought of hurting her in any way made Jax sick in the stomach. 

He ringed her doorbell and waited for her to open the door, and when she did and he finally saw her again, he gasped. 

Grace was breathtaking.

She was wearing a simple jeans and a blouse that had a delicate cleavage, not showing too much, but it was enough to make Jax’s blood rush south. 

“Hi!” She greeted him with a big smile that faded quickly when she saw his scar. 

“What happened?” Grace asked worried.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Jax replies immediately, but he saw she didn’t like the answer. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” He promised. Either way, he’d have told Grace about what he actually does. 

Grace nodded in answer.

“Hey, you look breathtaking.” Jax complimented her, making Grace blush immediately. 

“Well, thank you. You don’t look bad either.” She avoided eye contact with Jax as she spoke, and the blush in her cheeks were deeper when she complimented him back. 

Grace looked down to the floor before she looked back at Jax, but her eyes never reached him when she saw his bike behind him.

“Is that your bike?” Her face lit up again as she looked at Jax.

Jax smiles at her as he replied “Yes. Do you mind if we use it?”

“Oh, no! Not at all.” Jax swore she was excited. 

“C’mon, let’s go then.” Jax waited for Grace to close the door and follow his lead to his bike. 

“Where are you taking me?” Grave asks the Biker as she puts on the helmet Jax gave her. 

“That’s a surprise.” Jax smiles at her. 

Jax could see Grace get nervous and her smile faded a little bit.

“I wouldn’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.” Jax quickly says “If you want me to tell you, I will.” 

Grace hesitates for a few seconds before she replies “No, it’s fine.” she takes a deep breath “I trust you.” 

There was something in Jax what made Grace trust him. She didn’t knew the Biker very well yet, but something deep inside her told her she could trust him. And the fact that Nero knew him and trusted him confirmed her feelings. 

Grace’s heart skipped a beat when she sat on the bike behind Jax and wrapped her arms around him. She could feel how hard his body was under his t-shirt and this made her heart beat faster and a heat rushed between her legs. 

Not long after they left Grace’s house, Jax parked his car in front of a huge park.

“Figured we’d get coffee and walk around the park, or just sit down to talk.” Jax says as he turns towards Grace.

“I love the idea.” She smiles at him, making Jax’s chest ache as feelings rushed over him. 

He helped her off of his bike and led her to one of the coffee shops nearby the park. Jax ordered for both of them, he drank his coffee dark with lots of sugar, then they walked back into the park and sat down on a bench. 

“So, tell me. Do you do anything else besides singing?” Jax asks her, then takes a sip of his coffee. 

“I do many things. I love to be creative. I actually write the songs I sing, and besides that I love to draw, paint, cook and bake.” She shrugs “You know, just do something creative.”

Jax never met with anyone like her before. He never met with artists like Grace, and never knew anyone who liked to do such stuff. And Jax himself wasn’t artistic either, but he had great respect and admiration towards people who were.

“So, are you gonna tell me what happened?” Grace asked him.

Jax clenched his jaw and looked down to the warm coffee in his hands.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Grace. You deserve it.” 

Jax swallowed hard before he talked again.

“I, uhh. I have a motorcycle club. I am the President.”

“This still doesn’t explain the wound.” Grace said softly. 

Jax nodded, agreeing with her. “We don’t have a legitimate business. We’re trying to leave this behind and go legitimate. But shit goes down sometimes with other MCs and we have enemies.”

Grace was silent for a very long time after Jax told him about the Sons of Anarchy, and this made Jax really worried. 

“Grace, I understand if this scares you, and this world isn’t for you.” Jax licked his lips.

“Jax“ Grace sighed. “I live in Charming. Everyone in this town knows who you are, so I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to come on a date with you.”

Jax almost forgot about this.

“I really like you, Grace, and I don’t want to lose you. However, if you decide you don’t want to see me ever again, I will accept it.” Jax said.

Jax’s confession about both what he’s doing and that he really likes her surprised Grace, and suddenly she didn’t know what to say. 

“I really like you too, Jax.” Grace whispered so softly Jax thought he imagined it. “I just need time to adjust to this. If that’s okay.”

Jax nodded “Anything you want.” and he brushed his fingers over her cheeks, making Grace bite her bottom lip.

The way how Grace was looking at him, Jax knew he’s already deeply in love.

They were talking for hours in the park until it started getting dark and colder, and Jax saw that Grace was freezing so he took her home.

They were standing on the front porch of her house, saying goodbye.

“I really enjoyed today, thank you.” Grace said, her cheeks are crimson coloured again.

“I’m glad to hear that. I enjoyed it too.” Jax replied, and he took a step closer to her, cupping her cheek in one hand.

Grace gasped from feeling Jax’s rough hand on her soft cheek.

“May I kiss you, Grace?” Jax asked his Siren. 

Grace gasped again from his question, and blushed even more. 

“Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but Jax heard it clearly and her answer made him smile.

He looked deeply into her eyes before leaned closer to her.

Jax saw her lick her lips and he couldn’t wait any longer, he crossed the distance between them and pressed his lips against her soft ones. He felt her gasp a little, but a few seconds later she melted against him, placing her small hands on his chest as he kissed her, slowly. 

Grace moaned into the kiss and Jax took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, eager to do anything to make her moan again, because the sound drove Jax absolutely crazy.

And she did, she moaned again as Jax brushed his tongue against her, massaging her velvet tongue with his. 

Jax didn’t want to pull away from her and stop kissing her, but his lungs were screaming for air so he had to pull away. And he was so satisfied when he did, because the look on Grace's face was worth everything. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were full, and her eyes were dreamy and were shining like a thousand stars in the night sky. 

This perfect moment was interrupted by the hungry grumble of Jax’s stomach, making Grace laugh.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Jax says with a shake of his head. 

“It’s okay.” Grace smiles at her “Do you want to come in? I have some leftovers from my lunch, and I can hear them calling your name.” 

“If that’s not a problem.” Jax says, uncertain.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” Grace assures him as she opens the front door of her house, inviting Jax in.

“I hope you like veggie lasagna. I don’t eat meat, but I promise this lasagna is worth it.” She explains as she goes further into the house, and takes her shoes off.

“Please, take your shoes off.” She asks Jax, and he obligates, stopping behind her and taking his shoes off.

“I made the pasta for it myself, and the vegetables are from my garden. I even made the tomato sauce myself.” Grace explained excitedly as she led the Biker into her kitchen. 

Jax was listening to her talk while he tried to see as much from her house as he could, and he couldn’t help but smile. Not only because it was so heartwarming to see Grace this excited about something she made, but also because her house was so warm and homey, and full of art. 

Her kitchen was big, and Jax could tell that she was using it a lot. 

“Take a seat.” Grace said as she walked to the fridge, taking the lasagna out.

“I always cook a lot more for some reason, so I usually eat the same food for like a day and a half.” She explains and she puts the food on plates. 

“It looks really good.” Jax smiles at her, and Grace looked up from the plates with a big smile.

“Wait until you taste it.” Is all what she said as she put his plate first into the microwave.

“Grace.” Jax called her name “Come here, please.”

Jax wanted nothing else but kiss her right now, wanting to feel her lips against his.

Grace slowly walked to where Jax was sitting, she was eyeing him as she walked in front of him, and stopped. 

“Closer.” Jax whispered, and Grace took a step closer to him until she was standing between his legs. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met with. Not just on the outside, but inside too.” Jax spoke softly, and his words turned Grace’s cheeks pink. 

“You barely know me yet.” Jax shook his head at her reply.

“I don’t have to know you for long to know this.”

Grace looked down between them, and the look on her face made Jax worried.

“Did I say something wrong?” 

Grace shook her head as she took a deep breath to calm herself down, but Jax could see tears in her eyes. 

“It’s just…” it was Grace’s turn to make a confession. 

“You’re so different. You’re so confident and I’m...I’m not.” She was avoiding eye contact with Jax, but even as she was looking down to the floor, he could see her face. 

“I don’t know what you see in me. I’m shy, and don't really have experience in relationships or in bed, and the one I have is a bad memory.” Grace took a deep breath. “I bet you’re used to different women, with more experience, and I’m worried now that you know how inexperienced I am, you don’t want me anymore.”

Grace really thought after her confession, Jax will get up and leave and her tears started to fall, but when she felt Jax’s hand on his cheeks, wiping her tears, she looked at him.

“Do you really think that I’d leave you just because you dated with some asshole before?” Jax asked.

“How do you know he was an asshole?” Grace asked, confused.

“You said it’s a bad memory, so I had a good guess.” He wipes his thumb across her cheeks “But Grace, darling, believe me when I tell you that I don’t care how experienced you are. You could have been with 0 or 100 people, I still want to be with you, because you are you. And when you decide you want to share your bed with me, I’ll make sure to show you how amazing sex can be.” Grace looked down to the floor again from his words, and Jax could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she blushed. 

“And I promise you that I won’t pressure you. We will wait as long as you want, until you feel ready.” 

Jax’s words were interrupted by the sound of a microwave, making both of them jump a little. 

Before leaving Jax, Grace pressed her lips against his, surprising Jax for a second before he kissed her back. 

The food was indeed amazing, Jax swore he never ate anything this food before, although he wouldn’t say this in front of his mother.

After they ate, Grace showed him around his house, and it was full of art, but not any kind of art, it was all Grace’s. The paintings and drawings on the walls were all her work, and although Jax wasn’t big into art, he knew that Grace was really talented in anything she did. 

Jax stayed for hours as they talked, and shared so many things about each other, gaining each other’s complete thrusts.

Tag list: @innerpaperexpertcloud @lady-evans @agirllovespasta @oldstuffnewstuff @claudiahxrdy @keithseabrook27 @alexa-rae-dreamz @minnicelli @woahitslucyylu @de-profundis-ad-astra @mylifeliterally @happyhenners @rebel-without-cause-x