#then one almost dies in a rollercoaster crash

[cam-stopped-eating-candles]

Shout out to Canadas most overworked social worker

[novy2sirius]

dark numerology notes

• tw - suicide, murder, violence, accidents, guns

༚༅༚˳ often the numbers 7, 8, 11, 17, or 27 will be found in the birthdays of people who’ve committed suicide. it’s likely because people with 7/17/27 tend to struggle with feeling alone a lot, people with 8 energy have a ton of low lows and high highs all the time (constant ups and downs), and 11 is one of the most emotional numbers in numerology, so sometimes they struggle a lot emotionally more than others. i see 11 and 17 the most though

examples: kurt kobain (11 day and 27 life path), aubreigh wyatt born on the 17th, ava wood born on an 11 day (20 is the secret 11 because 0 is connected to 9 so 20=29 which reduces to 11), vincent van gogh (17 year), robin williams (8 life path)

༚༅༚˳ people with 11 energy should always stay away from guns at all costs. it never ends well. even if they or someone they know has a license for them it still is not good for them to be around any as they’re more likely to die from them

༚༅༚˳ the number 24 is common in birthdays of people who are extremely violent or murderers. this obviously does not apply to the people who aren’t sick in the head and super low vibrational though. the pro to this number though is that these people can be very wealthy

examples: ted bundy (day number), jeffrey dahmer (life path), john wayne gacy (day + year)

༚༅༚˳ people born under 19 energy may have gotten really ill when they were young and almost died (some do not make it). this isn’t a good energy to be born under in my opinion, but can be good for wealth and leadership though

༚༅༚˳ be cautious on 7, 9, or 11 days when driving a car because these numbers are the most common numerical indications of injuries or freak accidents. i wouldn’t do anything risky on these days either like riding a motorcycle, rollercoaster, go-cart plane, etc. i’d say 27 too since 2 doubles the energy it’s next to

example: paul walker died in a car crash on 11/30/2013 which adds to 11 (1+1+3+2+1+3=11)

༚༅༚˳ people who have prominent 4 energy in their birthday could have possibly been murdered in a past life which is why they’re obsessed with things like true crime in this life and make good criminal investigators

[umlewis]

Lewis Hamilton: I've Struggled With Depression From A Very Early Age

From Formula One glory to making a film with Brad Pitt, at 39, the sports star is more successful than ever. It's been tough, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Sir Lewis Hamilton is the most successful Formula 1 driver in history, with 105 (at the time of writing) grand prix victories to his name, as well as seven championships and a knighthood in 2021. What makes this achievement even more extraordinary is Hamilton's background. He is the first and only black man to race in F1, a sport dominated by the gilded progeny of wealthy white families. A child of mixed heritage-his father, Anthony, is of Grenadian descent; his mother, Carmen, is a white woman from Birmingham-Hamilton was partly raised on a council estate in Stevenage, his family sacrificing so much to get him to the track. "I am grateful I had that experience. I remember not having any money. I remember the struggle of my parents. I feel that's an advantage," he says. "Did you fight harder on the track because it was so tough for you to get there," I ask. "One thousand per cent," he replies. We are meeting at the Kensington Roof Gardens (Hamilton has a home in London, as well as Monaco, Geneva, Colorado and New York). He is a vision in expensive beige: Maison Margiela slacks, chunky Bottega Veneta boots, a Dries Van Noten cardigan, Dior bracelets, Cartier rings, a pearl necklace he bought online, twinkly little studs, one for each side of his nose, his hands a collage of geometric tattoos. But his love of fashion goes beyond amassing a "dream" wardrobe. He has collaborated with Tommy Hilfiger on several collections and has just been made guest designer at Dior, for whom he has a debut collection coming this autumn, the palette for which was inspired by his travels in Africa, particularly Nigeria. Hamilton agrees it's a busy time for him. At the end of this season he will be moving to Ferrari, after twelve years with Mercedes. "It's been a rollercoaster of emotions from the moment I signed the contract. Telling my boss, that was terrifying. But it's so exciting because I remember as a kid watching Michael. Every driver watches that car and you're like, 'What would it be like to sit in the red cockpit?'" He is a quiet presence, boyish almost, despite his 39 years. He uses euphemisms for swearwords such as "frick" and "shoot." He doesn't drink, is "plant-based," and loves hanging out with his nieces and nephew, playing Uno and Fortnite, chucking them about in the pool on holiday. "I'm really good with the kids," he says, setting aside his oat latte. "With them I feel like I'm able to be the kid that I am."

Hamilton's own childhood was not so carefree. His parents separated when he was two, his father meeting his new wife, Linda, at British Rail, where they both worked. Sundays with his dad were spent watching Formula 1. This was the era of the talismanic Brazilian driver Ayrton Senna, Hamilton's hero. It was during a holiday in Ibiza that he first got in a go-kart. "I was hooked," he says. "The adrenaline, the chaos, trying to control it. You feel it in your chest, your emotions, through your fingers, everything." Hamilton's dad bought him a kart for Christmas when he was eight. "I think he just wanted something to do with me, this kid that had all this energy, that had no fear." He describes himself, back then, as a "Tasmanian devil," a child who didn't enjoy school, who had undiagnosed dyslexia, who was shy - but behind the wheel "something flowed through me. It was the only thing I was confident in." The family began to orientate their existence around Hamilton's racing, his father taking extra jobs, while his stepmum spent all her savings on his new passion. Hamilton won his first race when he was ten. "That was really empowering for me," he says, 'Because I was competing against a lot of wealthier families."

It was also around this time that Senna died, his car crashing into a concrete barrier during the San Marino Grand Prix. "I was with my dad; we were working on the go-kart. I remember going to the front and crying, bawling my eyes out. I couldn't cry in front of my dad. He was not that kind of guy." Hamilton suppressed his grief, in the same way that he suppressed his emotions about the bullying and racism he endured. "There was no escaping it. You experience it at school, in the parks, walking through town. I didn't understand it and my parents never spoke to me about it. They never explained what was going on. My dad was just, 'Keep your head down, hold it in, don't say anything, just beat them on the track, that's all you can do.'" So that was what he did. When Hamilton was thirteen he was offered a place on the McLaren driver development team. His father became his manager, looking after all elements of his career, including finance. "Even when I got to Formula 1, at 22, I had no comprehension of money," he says. Hamilton's first F1 season was in 2007, his first championship win in 2008. But despite all that it gave him, despite his deep love of the sport, of competing, Hamilton found the world of F1 corporate and stifling. There was a requirement to conform, a residual feeling that just one misstep and the opportunities he had been given would be taken away. "It wasn't until I'd had some wins that I started to put my toe out of the box. Each time it was, like, you make one step and that rock's safe, but that next one was wobbly or would fall away. You'd get criticism about how you were presenting yourself. But I kept punching and kept fighting." Racing, like so much competitive sport, can be a lonely business. "You're nice and friendly outside the car," Hamilton says, "but in the car my dad would say you have to be ruthless, aggressive, sharp. In the car there are no friends." He found greater freedom, a sense of belonging and camaraderie, in the fashion world, attending his first show in 2007. "Everyone was wearing what they wanted. You didn't feel like you were being judged because everyone's on their own vibe. It was the first time I got into an environment where everyone was expressing themselves and I loved it."

Hamilton tried to bring some of that creative freedom to his professional life. In 2010 he sacked his father as manager. "Obviously parents try to protect their kids, forever I guess, and some don't want to let go. My dad struggled with that. There was a point when I was like, 'Look, I've done everything you've asked me to do, now let me live my life. I am going to have to make my own mistakes.' That was a really tough process." At the end of the 2012 season he left McLaren for Mercedes. "They gave me a lot more freedom," he says. He became involved in the look of the team, bringing in Hilfiger to help redesign the clothing. "But still if I felt there were wrongdoings, I didn't feel I could speak out." That all changed in 2020, when Hamilton watched a video of the murder of George Floyd by the policeman Derek Chauvin. "The cork popped. It had me on my knees in tears. All this emotion came out. It was such a strange experience because I don't remember crying since I was really young. I knew that I'd had enough, I really needed to speak out. There are people that are staying silent, people that feel voiceless, and I have this platform. Winning championships is an amazing thing, but what are you doing with it? What are you doing with your time on this planet?" These were the questions that Hamilton began asking himself during that pandemic year, which was also when he started meditating. "I would struggle initially to calm my mind, but it's a really great way of getting in touch with myself, my inner feelings, understanding what I want to do." These days he meditates every morning, waking at five, following this with a ten km run, which he sees as an extension of his meditation, a time to have ideas, to clear his mind.

"When I was in my twenties I had some really difficult phases. I mean, I’ve struggled with mental health through my life." What are we talking, I ask. Anxiety, depression? "Depression. From a very early age, when I was, like, thirteen . I think it was the pressure of the racing and struggling at school, the bullying. I had no one to talk to." I ask if he has ever seen a therapist. "I spoke to one woman, years ago, but that wasn't really helpful. I would like to find someone today." He has gone on silent retreats and reads books about mental health, including The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. "You're learning about things that have been passed down to you from your parents, noticing those patterns, how you react to things, how you can change those. So what might have angered me in the past doesn't anger me today. I am so much more refined." The year 2020 was a time of profound personal change. Hamilton took the knee before every race he entered that year. He advocated for change within his industry, initiating the Hamilton Commission to research the underrepresentation of black people in UK motorsport and the STEM sector. Using this information, he launched Mission 44, a charity to help young people around the world overcome social injustice, investing £20 million (he is worth an estimated £350 million) into the project.

He also started moving into other spheres with greater purpose, including fashion and music. He developed a non-alcoholic drink, Almave, and set up a film production company. "I want to be able to tell diverse stories. Film has changed my life. There is so much inspiration I have received," he says. One of his first co-productions is F1, the upcoming movie with Brad Pitt and a more diverse vision of the circuit, including a female technical director. "That was important to me. I lived with my dad, but I was really raised by my two mums and my two sisters. I grew up around a lot of female energy, powerful women. Most of the people on my team are women. The women hold it down." And, of course, there is Pitt playing a driver in his fifties. "That was a tricky part for me," Hamilton says, "because, shoot, of course we want Brad. But I was like, there is no way a 58 year old can compete with a twenty year old. These guys have got nothing going on but to race. And they're fit. So we had to work around this narrative, telling him how much harder he would have to train to get in shape." Hamilton himself is old for an F1 driver, most of whom retire in their thirties. His replacement at Mercedes, the Italian Kimi Antonelli, has only just turned eighteen. You could be his dad, I say, and Hamilton laughs like this hadn't actually occurred to him. "Honestly, right now I feel I'm healthier than I've ever been," he says. "I'm in such a good place, physically and mentally. My reaction times are still quicker than the young guys. I think I'm a better driver than I was at 22. I was just young, energetic and ruthless, but no finesse, no balance. I didn't know how to be a team player, how to be a leader. Being a good racing driver, it's not just about being fast. It's about being the most rounded. When I study the legends, they're spread between small percentages, so it's the whole package. What do they speak for, stand for? That's what I look at. I look to Ayrton Senna and Nelson Mandela, and those are the two people gelled together that I want to be."

Senna used to cross himself before every race. Like him, Hamilton was raised a Catholic. "I pray every time before I race," he says. "I pray that everyone is safe." Motor racing is far less dangerous than it used to be, but people still die. I ask Hamilton if he fears death when he drives. "I don't, no," he says. "But still, we're traveling at crazy speeds. You have to respect it. So that's why I'm conscious of the time I spend with my family, with my mum. Is this the last time I get to hug her? Because you just don't know. Nothing is guaranteed." Hamilton is single, but he would like to have a family. "One day. I wouldn't be able to do what I do to the level that I do it today with that. One of my best friends has just had a kid and I'm seeing how manic it is. And my nieces and nephew are a handful. There will be a time and a place for it, and I can't wait for that part. But right now I have some work to do."

[whumparound]

Alice (2020) K-Drama

Whumplist

Park Jin-Gyeom (Joo Won) is a detective, who doesn't show emotions. While investigating a mysterious case, he realizes the existence of time travelers. The time travelers come to the present day from the future through a space called Alice. Park Jin-Gyeom struggles to prevent negative things happening through Alice. During this time, he meets Yoon Tae-Yi (Kim Hee-Seon) again. A woman who looks erily identical to his deceased mother. Yoon Tae-Yi is a genius physicist and she holds a key to time travel. While they unravel the secret of time travel together, she discovers secrets hidden in her past.

This is a Whump list for Park Jin Gyeom (Played by Joo Won)

I actually had a lot of fun whating this drama, whether it was me laughing at it or with it. The story was all over the place and lacked continuity even if it was a time travel drama, but the characters were great.

______________________________________________________________________________

1x01 - crying, grieving, holding loved one as they die

1x02 - time was stopped but is resumed and hes hit by a truck, passes out, wakes up in hospital, broken ribs, bandaged wounds, takes out IV, Hit with smoke grenade holding eyes, coughing fough briefly, struggling to get up, almost hit by a car, Gets out of his car while its moving and jumps onto another car (not whump but I was crying) gets thrown off this car, fought, holding knife blade with hands, emotional upset

1x03 - fought smoke stuff in eyes again, fell from a good height, tried to chase but was too hurt, upset concerned for loved one, crying

1x04 - Fought, car accident, woke up on the street but in the past.

1X05 - woke up on street Clutching head ringing head pain, crying reliving mothers death, woke up present day where he crashed, ears ringing pass out nose bleed, woke up in hospital

1x06- fought, concerned for Someone

1x07 - fought

1x08 - Sleeping, smacked (comical), (flashback/forward…you still believe in time?) Loved one crying while holding him, possibly dead definitely not awake

1X09 - fought, Shot in the arm, at gunpoint, stops time before another bullet can get him, ears ringing, nose bleed, relieved after finding him mom, passes out from exertion, bandaged trying to wash hair (this scene is actually really cute)

1X10 worried, sleeping, woke up, anxious on a rollercoaster, unsteady getting off, hit by a car (to no consequence)

1x11 small fight, worried for someone, handcuffed to sign, crying, Yelling, wrist bleeding from struggling, at gunpoint

1x12 - angry, crying, loved one dies in his arms, grieving, comforted while crying, bleeding through Bandages

1x13 - Adult Jin gyeom Wakes up on the street, passes out again, nose bleed, in hospital, hearing voices, Panicking screaming, unconscious, woke up. Teen - Passes out, nose bleed, time rash Unconscious in bed, wakes up Suspicious as hell, hearing things

1x14 - crying, upset, stabbed with a sword, passes out, (off screen surgery) woke up, holding side, asleep, bleeding through shirt, concerned for, rewrapping wound, out of breath, delusions, almost stabs partner

1x15- crying, punches mirror, coping With major realization, comforted, concerned for someone,drugged, passes out, holding hand as someone important to him dies, holding loved one as they die, crying

1x16 - time travels, wakes up, crying, reliving same death of mother again

《Sorry for any spelling errors, english is my first language and I suck at it🙂》

[canvas-madness-txc]

The Lucky Nature

This fic has descriptions of death/dying, decapitation, gore

Fic is under the cut

There had been many theories about how she had been decapitated. She fell on the tracks as the cart rolled over her, launching her head to who knows where. A sharp object that fell from the ride sliced her neck.

There were even more theories about where her head had gone. The reasonable assumed it rolled off somewhere, or an animal ate it. Others— whose thoughts haunted her as she was lifted out of the warehouse— claimed it was mutilated. All of her ideas to what her head was were bashed in, bloody mushes with skull fragments sticking out like broken glass.

Confusing thoughts swirled in her head as she was lifted up. Why were the others crying? Where was she going? What was happening to Karnak?

The world went white. It slowly dimmed as she was lifted higher into the air.

"Her name is Penny Lamb. Born April 7th. Aries. The lucky nature."

That was all she heard as the warehouse faded behind her.

She woke up on the ground. A gash on her neck pricked blood like a leaky faucet. Bruises stung in her face. A heavy weight felt like it was lifted off her shoulders. Her hands immediately flew to her head. She had a face— an identity! Happy tears streamed across her face in waterfalls. Her pain seemed tuned out from the laughs taking over her.

"Penny? Penny!" Her mouth clamped shut as a boy with dark hair and glasses shook her. "Do you remember anything!?" She shook her head.

"Stop shaking me," she said, and he stopped. Taking a good look at his face, a sense of familiarity filled her.

"Ezra?" The name left her mouth without thinking. Ezra breathed out a sigh of relief.

"You almost died! The Rollercoaster went off track, and everyone crashed. Everyone's being hauled into ambulances." Penny looked around as sirens wailed. The euphoria had blocked off all the noise earlier. Sure enough, five teenagers were being loaded into the ambulances as panicked people rushed around.

Her heart sank for them. The doctors told her it was shock from the accident. Still, it felt more than shock. Longing, guilt, hurt, familiarity. Her mind felt like it remembered a time when they were closer... but nothing could come to mind...

After the death of her fellow choir members, Penny could feel eyes on her all the time. As the sole survivor of the accident, she was followed with whispers. Whispers of sympathy. Words like "tragedy," and "poor girl" followed in her wake.

There was one other word that followed her.

Lucky.

Lucky that the rest of the choir did not suffer in their injuries. Lucky the fair faced consequences of the beaten-down ride. Lucky Penny managed to survive.

The most tragic day of her life— one she could barely remember— was the day Penny Lamb became known as "The Luckiest Girl in Town"

[littlesentences]

A blue armchair sat right in front of them. Death groaned.

It had clearly been wished to follow it from the grey place. Life must have been unaware it would have been able to wish for another one once they arrived wherever it was they were. Death silently cursed old white men and their resistance to change. It was a damned disease.

Michael had already let go of their hands, and immediately seemed more at ease—if running passed the blue armchair without a second look counted as ‘more at ease’. Hands on hips, he observed where they had ended up like a king—and Death supposed he was. When he turned back around to face them, there was a smile taking up most of his face, and Death could almost imagine what he must have been like in life. Happy, nearly giddy with the prospect of doing almost anything.

He was definitely more at ease than he had been at the end of their time in the grey place.

Death had the strange epiphany of letting him go.

It took two steps away from Life and the epiphany faded as Michael said, “I did it!”

He was so proud of himself Death almost didn’t want to tell him that the amusement park before them was falling apart. The very visible rollercoaster tracks were crumbling, broken, rusted. Bits of entire loops missing while others only had one side of the tracks attached to the rest of it.

The ferris wheel only had one suspended carriage, rusted enough that Death would not have been surprised if it crumbled into nothing with the barest brush. The missing spokes in the wheel made Death wonder how it was even still standing. Surely the amount of missing spokes was enough to bring the whole thing crashing down.

It could only see one more ride from where it stood, and the marry-go-round did not look very merry. It was just as rusted as everything else it could see, the horses eerily still, empty holes where the eyes should have been staring into nothing. The poles they were attached to were as good as broken, and the decorative additions were less enticing than terrifying. Everything about it looking as though it was a minefield of diseases more serious than a resistance to change.

The sign above the entrance had all but disintegrated, one letter hanging upside down, the rest of them probably having long fallen off with the rest of the sign. The gate was as good as non-existent—only the base remaining intact and running around the entire park.

The most colour in the whole place came from Life’s armchair.

Death looked at Life, who was already looking at it. When Michael had said he had been at an amusement park, Death had imagined one that wasn’t falling apart at the seams; and now it was left to wonder what type of kid Michael was if he had a dilapidated amusement park in his subconscious. Life, for a change, made the first move and followed Michael into it.

They supposed there was nothing to fear in the way of diseases since it was an immortal being, but following a potential psychopath into their playground was never a good idea. Despite this, Death took a breath and walked in, leaving the blue armchair out there by itself.

Passing under the rusted entryway, the smell of dust, age, and abandoned things crept up its nose. Death scrunched it in distaste.

The smell of old and abandoned things had never smelt good to Death, and they found it particularly unfair how many people died in abandoned places while almost no one was born in them. If Death had to guess, it would say it was the first time Life had been in an abandoned place in recent memory.

Just past the broken turnstile Death jumped over without touching the metal—just in case they could catch something after all—were the teacups.

All of them were cut clean in half, one stand didn’t even have the teacup—just the circle spinny-thing in the middle—and Death did not want to know how any of that could have happened. To add to it, the colours on all the teacups were dull, faded to nothing but bad impressions of the original colours.

Walking through the amusement park, it half expected to come across a dead body amongst the ruins that were starting to seem like misinterpreted art. Nothing moved apart from Death, Life, and Michael; not even the part of the roller coaster that had been detached from its tracks swayed and the home for the bumper cars had collapsed entirely. Though what the amusement park could have been interpreted correctly as was lost on Death.

And it was beginning to wonder where Michael was taking them. He was walking with purpose deeper and deeper into the park, feet unwavering as he charged through the ruins, stepping over fallen pieces and cracked concrete without looking down. The presence of fallen pieces made Death question him more—how did he know where they were without checking?

Death kept walking.

In the distance, past the destruction right in front of its eyes, there was metal shining like a beacon in the perpetual light from Michael’s subconscious. And Michael was walking directly to it.

Death, somewhat curious, kept the same pace even as Life and Michael sped up to leave the ruined part of the amusement park behind them. As it walked closer, Death could have sworn there were proper colours amongst the shining metal in the presumed destination. Following Michael into it, Death was left to wonder if he really was a psychopath or just a kid who needed something to do.

It watched Michael as they entered the clean place—the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his posture lost its rigidity, how his steps bounced with each new step he took. He had hardly been relaxed earlier, and the bounce to his step had, now, so clearly been superficial.

Death and Life had followed him right into his home—people didn’t relax like this unless they were at home, right? But then, why wasn’t he in his actual home? Too easily, Death came up with reasons why, but Michael’s parents had hardly seemed the kind to make home less than safe.

Within a few steps, they were surrounded by clean metal and bright colours, the ruins seeming hours away despite only being a few steps backwards, and Michael turned to face them.

There was a new light to his eyes, and his face seemed more relaxed, his chin jutted out into the air, a bright smile on his face. Michael was obviously proud of this place. Death would not ask, and bring up probably very painful memories.

“I done this,” Michael said, throwing his arms wide. That explained the pride. As he presented it to them, there was awe in his voice—side by side with the pride—almost as though he couldn’t quite believe he had done it. “I created the destruction for the sole purpose of me fixing it.”

Both Life and Death raised their eyebrows, though Life was the only one who asked, “Why?”

Death already knew that answer, and it wasn’t the one Michael would give.

He shrugged. “It can get a bit boring stuck inside your head all the time.”

Well, it was a different answer than the one Michael gave. The thoughts of those who knew how close their end was tended to be disturbing, and Michael had seemingly found a way to distract himself. Though the thoughts had affected him—the false cheer, the ruined amusement park. The thoughts had left an impression on him before he began distracting himself.

Death regretted thinking of him as a psychopath.

Death looked to see Life momentarily terrified, gazing at the dubiously functional structures like they were coming for its head. Death walked away, further into the cleaner part of the amusement park. It would have said ‘safer’ but ‘safe’ was a term that might not be entirely accurate when referring to part of an amusement park reconstructed by an eight-year-old.

The work had clearly been done over ten years, with obvious care taken to every aspect of the park, from the gardens lining the path to the path itself to the rides. All painted so radically different from each other Death had no need to speculate how Michael had been feeling when he had picked up the paintbrush that day. Or even when he didn’t really care for it.

The result was jarring—a rainbow of colours in varying intensities covering the surrounding structures and activities.

It walked through the colours, a smudge of black against the fluctuating colours, finding themselves smiling as they passed a duck shooting game.

Trailing its hand along the bench holding the multi-coloured guns, Death noticed a thumbhole in their hoodie. It was frayed, clearly created by the body it occupied and not by the designer, making the whole thing shabbier than it had been thirty seconds ago. Death swallowed, long-suffering and tired, remembering what it looked like.

Death shook its, sticking their thumb through the hole. This part of the amusement park was too pretty to be angry with their body. Michael must have been in a good mood when he painted this row.

Death stood still amongst the intense colours, wondering if they stood there long enough would they feel the happiness the area was created with? Hands out by their sides, they had trouble picturing the ruins of the amusement park—the parts outside of what Michael had already redone, the parts that could have diseases.

Again, Death shook its head. There was no precedent it knew of for being in someone else’s subconscious, so it was entirely possible a side-effect was some kind of memory loss. But it could still remember all the things it had remembered before ending up in Michael’s subconscious. It could remember that it had not spent its whole existence in Michael’s subconscious. It still knew what it was.

Its bosses would know what had happened to it by now, it was sure of it. Death wondered what they were doing before wondering if they were already looking for replacements. It wouldn’t put it past them.

Past the duck shooting game was a smaller, intact version of the teacups, and smaller, kid-friendly versions of the merry-go-round and rollercoaster. Death chuckled to itself. Of course a kid would renovate the kid-area of an amusement park first. If there was an immortal-being section, Death was almost certain it would have started there.

That may have been a side-effect of being in the same form for so long. Humans had a tendency to look out for their own before anyone else.

Death couldn’t exactly say it blamed them. Humans were mortal, living for not even a quarter of Death’s whole life. All they had time to protect was their own. Many times as Death had been watching a death, it had been intrigued at how angry other humans could get when a different one threatened them.

It was still the only part of human nature that puzzled Death after everything it had seen.

Not too far away from where it stood was a bench, painted an obnoxiously bright colour the human brain clearly couldn’t process correctly. If they could, Death doubted it would be almost everywhere. It was an ugly colour, the sort of thing that would come from mixing the bark of trees with the colour of the sky. Death sat on it anyway. Their legs were tired, and having never experienced anything like it before, Death decided to sit in case they fell off.

Was it really possible for humans to walk their legs off? they thought as they rubbed their legs. If it was, they had it a lot worse than Death originally thought.

All around it was the markings of childhood: wings on the backs of ‘flying’ chairs, a poorly done painting of a brave knight about to behead a dragon, a landscape painting with the sun in the corner on a teacup. Death suspected it had found one of the first parts of the amusement park Michael had redone.

Staring at it all, it wondered if Michael had, actually, grown up or if he had just become better at renovating amusement parks. Death consciously decided it didn’t care, instead continuing to focus on the pure joy an eight-year-old had instilled into a joyless situation. They felt a little as thought they had wondered into someone’s private art studio.

It’s thoughts stopped there. There was something on the other side of the teacups. A silhouette of a man Death could have sworn was staring at them. It could have been standing on the other side of the park, but there was only the teacups between them.

Death’s first thought was that it was a hallucination of some sort—the only thing was that immortal beings did not hallucinate. Their second thought was that Michael was not alone in his subconscious—but it would make more sense for whatever it was to be near Michael, and as far as Death knew, Michael was near it.

Death was just about to put it down to being in someone else’s subconscious for too long when the silhouette started moving closer.

It was almost impossible to tell if it was walking or floating, but the closer it got, the more pronounced the bob of its head, and Death was inclined to believe the former. By the time it rounded the teacups, it wasn’t a silhouette, but a body, one that it kind of recognised, and Death hoped it had answers.

It didn’t know exactly which answers—it had too many questions, half of which the answers would only lead to more questions, which was never a pleasant experience for all parties involved. But if this being had any answers at all, Death would not send it away.

As the being sat next to Death, it sighed out words that sounded like, “Of all the coma patients.”

Death looked to it, hoping it would start explaining, but it did not make another sound, instead staring straight ahead, likely inspecting the teacups and the various paintings on their sides. Especially the one with three names written over and over.

There had been three people in that hospital room, not counting the doctor, who was rarely related to their patients. Death could only assume they were Michael’s family, and the names on the teacups their names. It would have been surprised if Michael had not written the names of his family over and over again somewhere—his sole purpose right now was to remember, and be remembered by, his family.

“A child’s mind is quite the crazy place, is it not?” the being said without looking at them.

Its voice rang some bells in Death’s memory, but it had lived too long of a life to remember exactly where it had heard the voice before. Odds were it was one of it’s bosses. “I like it. The crazy ones are always much better conversationalists than the normal ones.”

“One could argue that they’re all crazy, and some are better at hiding it than others.”

“Then one could question whether there’s anything to hide if everyone’s crazy.”

Death had the feeling that if the being could smile, it would be. Its next words only confirmed it. “I had almost missed having conversations with you, Death. Such a blunt outlook on life—it is quite refreshing.”

Death looked to the being—definitely one of its bosses—and almost choked on its questions.

Death looked away.

Still staring at the teacups, the being said, “I believe you have questions.” It waved its hand in front of where its face would have been. “I suggest you only ask the most pressing ones as I don’t have too much time.”

Which ones to ask? Who was it kidding, there was only one question that really mattered when it came down to it. The same question it should be trying to find the answer to. Death looked into its hands. “How do we get out of here?”

It had mumbled, had barely opened its mouth to get the sounds out, but the being had heard Death with ease. The being looked at Death, then at Death’s hands before going back to the teacups. “By the way you are staring at your hands, Death, I think you already know how to leave.”

That was what it was afraid of. Death took a deep breath. “Is there another way?”

The being shrugged. “There might be something useful in the deep recesses of the boy’s mind, but it is doubtful.”

Death sighed, running its hands through its hair, staring at the teacups again as though they were harbingers of every bad thing in the world. And, well, what else was it supposed to blame? Itself? That was an inherently human trait and Death would die before it blamed itself for anything it wasn’t the direct cause of. It had just been doing its job.

Its boss touched its shoulder—it felt like being touched by a breath—and Death knew it was meant to be comforting, but immortal beings were not the best at giving comfort, so it came off as more of a warning. A precautionary tale condensed into a pat on the shoulder.

And just as quickly as it came, the being dispersed back to wherever it had come from. Death threw their head back to stare at the sky.

Prev.

Next.

[harbingrs]

Video of the day: Unstable Aircraft Design?! The Incredible Story of China Eastern flight 583 (or, a cautionary tale on why you should fasten your seatbelt whenever you're sitting down on a plane)

Chances are that anything you're flying in today is more pitch stable than the MD-11, but it's definitely better safe than sorry.

Video thumbnail description: An MD-11 passenger airliner with China Eastern Airlines livery, obviously photoshopped with a 'wiggly' distortion effect. Text reads ROLLERCOASTER AT 33,000 FEET!

Sponsored segment timecodes: 6:35 - 8:00 (it's BetterHelp so skip it)

Under the read more:

Video 'spoilers'

Content warnings

Accessibility notes

Comment highlights

Content warnings: The plane doesn't crash, but many passengers are injured and several killed during a rollercoaster-style cycle of flying to recover from an issue. The video is simulated and doesn't show passengers or injuries.

Accessibility: Video is well-narrated with accurate captions. Some animated diagrams are used to illustrate plane design and engineering, but are described in narration. A few definitions of terminology are shown visually, but are also summarised verbally.

Highlights from the comments:

From user @.djmech3871: I remember this very well. I was a World Airways 31:51 mechanic on the MD-11 and after this incident we had to install a mechanical lock on the flap/slat handle. RIP to the two people who died.

From user @.randallhunt9170: It was this and other peculiarities that eventually relegated the MD-11 to cargo work only.

From user @.jackdbur: MD tried many "New" things to make sales many of their ideas were badly engineered and executed, much of this is due to how the company was organised, Management > bean counters > engineering. Thin push rods to lock baggage doors what could go wrong, those big bolts holding the engines on we can go a size down and save some money, & this one let's make this airliner unstable as to see what happens.

From user @.Wolfeson28

Exactly. My first thought when I heard that was: why on earth would you want the slats to always default to the retracted or the extended position? What you want in the event of the system failing is for the flaps and slats to stay in whichever position they're already in! This is so befuddling in that it's almost the same problem that contributed to the crash of American 191 in Chicago - the plane didn't have a mechanical system to lock the slats in place, so when the hydraulics on the left wing were compromised, those slats retracted under the air load and the wing ended up stalling. In the same vein, the unusually high speeds and reduced stability mentioned earlier directly contributed to the crashes of FedEx flights 14 (Newark) and 80 (Narita). The more I learn about the DC/MD-10/11 series of planes, the more I can't help feeling they're almost as bad as their reputations make them seem.

From user @.kenoliver8913:

And compounded by some poor ergonomic design. Keyboards and important levers/switches should be spaced far enough apart you can never hit one while operating the other. Think about if you were trying to punch numbers into that keyboard as you hit a little real turbulence …

From user @.grantcivyt

This thread is why there appears so little innovation in commercial aviation. Safety is important but so is experimentation.

From user @.sparkyy0007 All fail safe systems must be designed to fail to a predictable default position, either extended or retracted. In the case of a flap system failure, a flap remaining in some undefined position could cause complete loss of roll control by becoming an unintentional aileron. Flaps fully extended fail-safe position allows a reasonable landing speed and the ability to synchronize the working flaps to the fail-safe to maintain roll stability.

From user @.akchuck100: My wife was in management at the Hospital in Anchorage when this happened. It was called a 'CODE External" over the hospital wide speakers. That meant that there were a large number of casualties coming into the hospital from outside the hospital (as opposed to a code internal, casualties from an 'In Hospital' emergency'). The emergency plan was designed for emergencies like a plane crash at the airport in town. The expectation was that employees would rush to the hospital to give help within 20 minutes or so. However, even though Providence Alaska Medical Center was the closest Hospital and because of the distance from the incident over the Aleutian Islands, it was still another 6 hours before the first casualties were expected to arrive at the hospital. There were 150, non-English speaking Chinese nationals who needed medical help. Great praise should go to not only the hospital personnel who rushed into work and then waited for the emergency to arrive, but to the passengers and crew who dealt with the victims for A LONG F-ING TIME before they could get real medical help. Also, great appreciation should go to all the employees of every Chinese restaurant in town (especially 'Charlies Bakery') who supplied VOLUNTEER translators to the hospital at a moments notice.

[shotorozu]

Hello. I got into a car accident and I was with my younger sister too. I got 2 surgeries and I don’t remember much. My younger sister got a few stitches😞 I feel horrible like an older sister.

Was wondering if I could request a head anon of where reader gets into a car accident and the characters react to it. (Tamaki, izuku, shoto and any of choice. Sad thing is my FUCKING Spanish teacher won’t respond to me and I have really bad grades on that class 😢 ( ´༎ຶㅂ༎ຶ`)

Thank you and take care also Safe driving

s/o getting into a car crash

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk’s not specific

headcanon type : fluff, comfort (x reader)

note(s) : 😦 omg i hope you’re doing okay, anon- your spanish teacher better respond to you or else >:T

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

when he gets word that you’ve gotten into a car crash, his hands crack with mini explosions— dropping everything to literally run to wherever you’re at

“damnit, damnit, damnit! where the hell was i when that happened?!”

appears a lot pissier than usual, in reality— he’s just really worried, and he can’t slow down his heart palpitations!

“calm down bakugou!”

“calm.. CALM DOWN? RIDDLE ME THIS, ASSHOLE—”

hm okay, so lets say that you were in the passengers seat when the crash happened

katsuki will probably want to find whoever was the driver, and just absolutely go ballistic on them, but probably ends up not doing that when he thinks about what you’d feel

and lets say another driver crashed into your car— katsuki will search high and low just to find that said driver, and he’ll show them hell

and if you crashed into a poll or something, he wouldn’t get too mad— but he’ll still scold you, and lecture you about driving safety

when he finds out you need surgery, he’ll be so upset

“what do you mean SURGERY? who the hell crashed into you, and why do they have a license?! they’re a danger to society!” he sounds angry but he’s quietly yet impatiently waiting outside for the surgery to be successfully completed

cleans and takes care of your remaining injuries, doesn’t matter if there’s a tiny little scrape on your forehead, or if you’re left with a bunch of broken bones.

he’ll be nursing you, like it or not.

he doesn’t let you leave your bed during your recovery, he insists— and you have an idea of what’ll happen if you try opposing katsuki 💀

don’t ever be worried about your grades! you have a smartie as a boyfriend, so he has probably made an extra copy of notes that you’ve missed

and he’ll probably argue with a teacher if they refuse to cooperate because,, YOU ALMOST PASSED AWAY?? is that not a valid excuse?

“i get that you’re really busy, but they literally almost died— how is that not an valid excuse? Y/N’s a hard worker, and a good one! and i will not rest until you understand!”

it might seem a little over protective of him to do this, but katsuki won’t EVER let you drive a car alone for who knows how long, he’ll be there with you just to monitor your driving.

that is, until you gain his trust back— that you could drive without almost losing yourself

amajiki tamaki

for him, it feels like the world is going slower

when he gets a call that you’ve gotten into a car crash— his anxiousness shoots through the roof, and it’s causing him to assume the worst of the worst

he’ll feel so guilty though, tears welling up in his eyes as his entire body shakes just thinking about you in a hospital bed

because,, where was he when that happened? how did he only learn about this now?

eventually, mirio and nejire calm him down to the point that they could properly bring him to the hospital you’re staying at

without him shaking like an old nokia

knows not to blame anyone, regardless of who crashed the car (he’s not confrontational anyway)

yet, he can’t help but think about how things would’ve went differently if he was there

feels frustrated to the point that he starts tearing up when he finds out you needed surgery, and even when you tell him that he can’t be guilty because of you

he still is 😔

anyways, when your surgery is completed— he eventually musters the courage to just put all of his nervous feelings aside for now, and take care of you like the sweetheart he is!

knows a shit ton of food (courtesy to his quirk) so he cooks you something new everyday during recovery

during your recovery, tamaki isn’t fond of the idea of you walking around, doing things as if nothing happened. he ends up making sure you stay in bed, by staying in your room for days

it might take a while for him to be reassured that you won’t accidentally end up in a ditch again, but for now— you’re carpooling with the big three

worried about your grades because of the time you’ve missed during your recovery? no worries! tamaki made an extra copy of notes, and basically summarized it in a way you could understand!

it’s a rollercoaster 💀 but at least this made tamaki take initiative, even without being pushed to do so!

let’s just say, mirio and nejire are really proud of him :))

todoroki shouto

he’s been wondering why he hasn’t seen you in a few hours, and on top of that— he hasn’t been able to contact you

like,, at all. but, he thought you were just feeling ill— so he decided that he was going to head over to your place after his tasks were taken care of.

but that’s all forgotten, when he finally gets word that you’ve gotten in a car crash— and that’s why you weren’t there

he literally freezes in place, and his reaction was almost like he saw the endeavor-nomu fight all over again.

the idea of his love being in critical state, made the normally calm todoroki placed in distress

after being calmed down by his fellow classmates, he quickly abandons whatever he was doing, so he could rush to the hospital

currently, you were in surgery. he appeared pretty calm on the outside, but internally— he was a mess. though, he did have to keep it together for you

when shouto finally meets you out of surgery, his gaze is soft “hi love— no, don’t stand up! just stay there. do you remember what happened?”

your description of it all isn’t the best, but he couldn’t blame you at all

if another driver crashed into you, it’ll be an intimidating encounter,, he won’t be physical, but his words will be harsh— not even caring about the fact that the driver is literally quaking in their shoes

and if you were in the passengers seat, shouto will briefly look at them with pure disappointment— he can’t really help it,,

but he can’t find himself being mad if you were the driver, he’s just glad that you’re still with him as you could tell, shouto’s only soft for you

immediately goes shopping for groceries after he takes you back, and you’ve guessed it! he makes you soba, since you’re fresh out of the hospital

insists that you stay bed ridden, and you can’t seem to oppose— since he’s giving you the softest of gazes.

unintentionally isolates you during the entire recovery stage, because he’s so absorbed with taking care of you— that he didn’t even think if you wanted to see your classmates

not that you’re complaining,, you get to see shouto and only shouto for an entire week or so!

he lets your classmates and friends see you after a bit, but he insists that they don’t speak too loudly— worried that they’ll accidentally ache your head

(that’s when everyone found out about shouto’s great caretaking ability)

worried about your grades and classes? shouto will handle it. he’ll reach out to your teachers/professors, and he’ll try to make some negotiations, he makes sure to tell them that you were taking time off because of a health emergency

will he immediately let you be in a car by yourself after? hm,, maybe not— it’ll take some time for you to be able to drive alone again. if you need to go somewhere by car, he’ll accompany you :))

he will NOT let another accident happen, not on his watch! his heart wouldn’t be able to handle it

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[snoopdoodle]

hot damn- most I've written on this account yet at 2.1k words- Jesus christ thats a lot-

=======

Dad, but not // pt. 3

FIRST PART \\ SECOND PART

platonic!benchtrio x male!reader, platonic!philza (&mumza) x male!reader, platonic!wilbur x male!reader

pronouns: he/him

summary: randad about to leave, what with phil and mumza do? Stop him, of course.

------

You laughed softly as Tommy yelled into the camera. “What is up, boys!?” He yelled, his voice a bit hoarse from crying. “You've been crying, man?” Tubbo asked, sniffing a bit. “Oh, shut up! You’ve been cryin’ too!” Tommy yelled at the 2. Ranboo had not let go of your hand for a while, and you could tell he was trying not to cry. “Ok, Ok, this is fine-” He spoke, chuckling a bit as he had to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes. “Ok, so, we’ll just go do something fun together, all of us, then you go home,” Ranboo spoke, his tone saddening at the end. The mood sort of depressed after he said this.

He didn’t want you to go, none of you did. Tommy scoffed into the camera, trying to hide his tears. “Alright, you sad-sacks. Let’s get moving. Randad leaves at 6 and it’s 11 o’clock right now! Meaning we still have… 1, 2, 3-” [Name], or ‘Randad’ as he was called by the fanbase, interrupted him. “Eight hours, Tommy. Although, it’s probably less than that since we’ll have to drive. But, let’s not dwell on it. Let’s just have some fun,” You spoke, Tubbo nodded in confirmation as Ranboo squeezed your hand. “Jeez, that was inspirational,” Tommy muttered with sarcasm dripping through his voice. 

You cackled, finding what he said funny. Your [___] accent was shining through in that laugh. Ranboo patted your back, well tried to, as he was also giggling like a maniac. You smiled at the gesture, chuckling to yourself. “I’m here!” a voice yelled, and you all turned to find Wilbur, in all of his 6’6 glory, running toward you all. You smiled and nodded to the man as he slowed his pace. The morning sun shone down, giving his eyes a shine and making them pop. You pat Ranboo on the shoulder, signaling for him to let you go. He sighed sadly but complied. You just pat his back as a small thanks.

You all got on the ride, it was a type of roller-coaster, so Ranboo could barely fit in the seats. You think that the little kids who saw you all and didn’t know who you all thought you were giants. You smiled at the thought. Sure, you were a father, but come on- it was fun to scare kids who didn’t know you! You looked at your hand when you felt someone holding it, it was Ranboo. You grinned at him as the ride went up. Tubbo looked at your hands and stared at them, before deciding to link his pinky with one of your fingers.

Before the ride went down, Tubbo had to make his thoughts known to you both and the camera. “Ya’know, if people didn’t see you both up there and just saw all of us holding hands, they might think we’re a polygon couple, like Big Q, Karl, and SapnNAAPP-'' He was almost able to finish, but the ride started up and left his ideas in the dust. It also cut your laughing fit. The ride shot off down the coaster, and you could hear Tommy’s screams from behind you. You smiled, knowing this day would be great, even though it was your last. The rollercoaster came to a stop as the metal belts came undone. Ranboo’s hair was frizzy and uneven, along with your [color] hair.

You started laughing as you remembered Tubbo’s previous statement. Ranboo and Tubbo began laughing as well. “T-Tub-bo-oh-oh- that was so wrong- hehHAH-” Your son spoke between laughter, and you nodded along to his words. Wilbur looked to you confused as Tommy looked confused and terrified. Your laughter died down, but you knew you would have the giggles for the rest of the day. “Heh heh heh-” You chuckled as you walked through the hall from the ride. Tommy looked at you and gave a lopsided smile. “So, what was the joke-” He wasn’t able to finish as you burst into a peal of wheezing laughter. Your laughter filled the room, and soon enough the others were laughing as well.

You then went past a gift shop, where Tommy promptly stopped and then turned to Wilbur. “Please, Will. I want a gift,” He spoke, one hand pointing the camera in his face and one pointing to the shop’s doors. Wil shook his head with a small laugh, acting as if he would say yes, but what came out caused you to laugh again. “No, Tommy,” You cackled again as Tommy held a pleading look to his face. “Oh, Oh but that’s bullshit, Will! I want a gift!” He slightly yelled at Wilbur. You sighed and slipped away from the group. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice. Looking on the colorful shelf of the gift shop, you stopped seeing the toys. You saw three stuffed animals and you knew, that’s what you’d get them.

“Dad?” Ranboo asked, stopping the small argument between Wilbur and Tommy. They looked up and craned their heads around for you as Tubbo giggled. He saw you slip into the gift shop but didn’t say anything. You stepped out, the jingle of the bell alerting the four. You smiled as your saw the relief and confusion contort onto their faces. “Look, today is my last day, and I wanted to get a little something for all of you to remember me bye,” You spoke, a small gin coming onto your face. You pulled out a small bee plushie and handed it to Tubbo, who happily took the gift with a grin spreading across his face. You then pulled out a small raccoon toy, which you gave to Tommy. He huffed in annoyance at the gift, but a small smile graced his face at the toy. And last, you gifted Ranboo a small cat plushie. You had always compared him to a cat, so he got the inside joke and gave a little smile under his duel-colored mask.

Wilbur gasped at you in mock shock and frowned. “What about me, Randad?!” He yelled out, causing a tiny scene. It made you chuckle as you pulled out a slinky. “A slinky for you, Wilbur,” You spoke, acting as if he was royalty. He gave a large smile and held his hands out, waiting for the gift to grace his skin. The boy laughed at your antics and started to walk along. You all continued your day, watching as the sun went over your heads. It was around 3:40, and you had to start getting ready to leave. “C’mon boys, let’s go. It’s 3:37,” You spoke, making their smiles and happy faces turn sour. Wilbur gave a small pout, but complied with your request. Tubbo and Tommy huffed out and frowned as Ranboo just made a sad noise.

You all got into your car, heading off to the Airport. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo sat in the back of your car as you and Ranboo sat in the front seats. The car was silent with a hint of sadness all around you. A wave of tears passed over you as you turned the corner. You weren’t an ugly crier, but you sure weren’t a pretty one. Your tears came crashing down onto your face as you stopped the car. You tried to be strong, you really did, but this hurt. You were leaving your son! In Britain! It hurt so bad. Ranboo gave a sniff and pat your shoulder. You smiled as you tried to get out of the car. The airport was less crowded then it should be, but you were still going to have to walk through a crowd.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You looked to Wilbur who gave an ok before he went to get your stuff. It was Kristin. You smiled, wiping your tears a bit and answered your call. “Hey, Kris,” You spoke, adding in the little nickname you had thought of. Your voice was shaky and she could tell you had been crying. So could Phil, who was also in the car. “Hey, [Name], how are you? We’re almost to the airport to say bye!” Kristin spoke, her American accent shining as she yelled into the phone. You smiled at the joy in her tone. “I-I not holding up as well as I wanted to, but hey, I’m happy you're coming here. Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and I were just out having a fun day together.. And now that fun day has ended, heh,” You spoke, your voice still shaky as more tears overwhelmed you.

She gave a sad ‘awe’ and you could hear the pout in her voice, “Well, I know how that feels. Wait for up at your port spot, and we’ll all meet up, alright?” You nodded into the phone, and a sniff could be heard on Kristin and Phil’s side. “You got it,” She smiled at Phil and looked at him. “H-Hang on- I need to mute for a second,” She spoke, you sighed and gave your phone to Ranboo who was sitting down, not helping at all. He was still trying to take in the fact that his dad would be leaving him. Kristin turned to Phil after muting. “We have a spare room, right? It has a bed. He’s been over here. He’s a good guy, and you hear how sad he is to leave-” Kristin’s rant was cut off by a chuckle from Phil.

“Sure, hunny, he can stay,” Phil smiled and Kristin gave a joyous nod to her husband as she unmuted the phone. “Hello?” She asked, but she was met with some mumbling. “Ranboo?” It was Phil this time. “Phil? O-oh, hey. Yeah, dad’s doing some stuff right now, you need him?” Ranboo asked, trying to cover his tears. “No, don’t worry, Just wanted to say that we were almost here. Tell your dad, alright mate?” Phil informed. Ranboo gave a small alright and hung up. He stood up and stretched out, walking over to you to tell you that Phil and ‘Mumza’ were almost here.  You gave your son a small smile and all of you walked to your gate. It was a hassle, walking through the crowds, but when you got to your gate, Tommy pulled out his camera and started vlogging. 

“Randad’s about to leave. Unpog,” He spoke into the camera, tears filling his eyes, along with everyone else’s. You chuckled at the comment, before looking around. It had been about 10 minutes and Phil and Kristin still weren’t- “[Name]!” Scratch that, they were here. You got up and walked to Kristin, leaning down to give her a hug. “Hey, Kris, hey Phil,” You spoke sniffling a bit. Tommy turned the camera to Phil and Kristin and gave the camera a teary look. “Look, It’s Dad and Mumza,” Kristin looked at you as you turned to Tommy. She looked to Phil, who nodded in response. “c-Can I have your all’s attention?” She tried, and it worked. She got everyone’s attention. She cleared her throat and looked at you. “[Name], I know how sad you’ve been to leave. And personally, I don’t think anyone wants you to leave. So.. I brought up that you could stay with me and Phil,” Before she could finish, your hands were at your mouth and your body had gone downwards. Tubbo was teary-eyed and smiling, along with Wilbur. Tommy was filming the whole thing and smiling at you all. Ranboo’s hands cupped his mouth.

You were still on the floor, squatting down, when she continued. “Yeah, we have a guest room, you can visit the boys anytime you want… for the most part. So, what do you say?” She finished with the question. Without gestation you got up and nodded, leaning into a hug. The boys cheered and smiled with tears rolling down their cheeks. You looked over to Phil and he gave you a positive nod. You smiled and left the hug with Kristin to hug Ranboo. He returned it. In the end, everyone was crying, you had gotten to live with 2 very good friends. And the viewers were very happy, as you weren’t leaving.

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 4

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”, horrible description of death and feelings lmfao I’m sorry

Word count: 3.4k

A/n: sorry about the late update! it’s my 18th birthday and it’s 11 pm and i just got home HAHAHA. 

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

You were barreling towards death with your eyes closed as your body hit the elevator’s ground, deafening screams emitting from your mouth as you thought, this is it. This is where I die.

Multiple callings of your names sounded through the empty shaft, and you were sure Spider-Man was one of them.

The elevator was hit by a stray metal pole on the right side, but it wasn’t enough to stop it, only enough to cause a dent on the inside. It was like a rollercoaster - slow as it reached the top, but fast and gaining speed as it dropped.

Only, rollercoasters were fun and safe, and didn’t make you feel like The Grim Reaper was welcoming you with open arms like a friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.

I’m sorry, you found yourself thinking, over and over again. You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, or to whom, but your life flashed before your eyes like they do in the movies, and only then did you realize that you regretted most of it.

You regretted not begging your mom to stay.

You regretted not asking your dad to be home more often - for you to see him at least more than once a year.

You regretted not going after Peter, you regretted not telling him how you felt, you regretted bullying him. Two wrongs never made a right, and you should’ve known that sooner, but you let your anger blind you.

You weren’t a bully. That simply wasn’t you.

But that was how you were going to die.

You were going to die with everyone believing that you showed your true colors this year, and were proud of it.

I’m sorry.

But it all happened so quickly.

“Gotcha!” Someone said as a figure wrapped itself around your body - warm but stiff and solid. The floor beneath you was long gone, and you wondered if you died, still unwilling to open your eyes to check if you did.

It was proven that you didn’t need to, though.

You heard Peter. Peter and his reassurances: “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He was breathing hard against you, the fabric of his mask straining his voice, but it was still as clear as daylight. The loud crash of the elevator below you echoed through the emptiness, which caused your breath to hitch in fear.

"I got you, Y/n. I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.” He whispered in between pants, hugging you close to his body while you clung to him for dear life, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, like they had just found their other half and didn’t want to let go.

You were sure you were squeezing the life out of him, but he didn’t complain. He never did.

You couldn’t tell if it was your heart that was beating like a thumping drum or if it was his.

And you lost it, right then and there.

You let harsh sobs wreck through you like a tidal wave. The kind where you felt like your world was falling apart, your fingers tingling and your shoulders feeling heavy, like boulders were trying to weigh you down as the air around you stilled.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He repeated, tightening his arm around your body as salt water made its way down your cheeks and onto your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, voice thick with remorse and head heavy as you dug it into his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, “don’t be, you’re okay. We’re okay.”

You knew that he was talking about being alive, but you couldn’t help but look for a double meaning - the other one where he was talking about the destroyed relationship between the two of you.

Still, you kept crying, releasing built-up sadness that you never allowed yourself to release. It felt liberating, to be frank, and if you hadn’t been right on the edge of death for the second time, you’d be embarrassed by the amount of tears you shed.

But you let yourself shed them anyway. Deep down, you knew Peter was the one that left you, but what you were doing, bullying him, wasn’t right, either. This time, you chose to be the bigger person.

Once you calmed down, save for your hiccups, Spider-Man spoke, “Hey,” he gently coaxed you out of your hazy mind, almost as if his words could break you. You knew from experience that they could.

You sheepishly lifted your head and bore your red eyes into his, aware of the fact that you looked like a train wreck. You were sure your head looked like a bird’s nest with your face as red as a tomato, and it mustn’t have been a pretty sight that Spider-Man was getting a close up of.

Your faces were merely inches apart, and it was too easy to imagine his uncovered face this close to you. You felt his thumb rubbing comforting circles on your waist where his arm remained.

“I’m gonna need you to trust me, all right?” He softly asked, “I’m gonna need to jump, but I promise I won’t let go. Okay?”

As soon as he said the word ‘jump’ your brain began spiraling again. You looked above you at the height that he would allegedly leap through, tracing the length of the web that he was holding onto, and then looked down to see how far down you’d fall if you had.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes widening and arms subconsciously tightening around him in fear of slipping down, down, down. It seemed to go on forever, like a bottomless pit, but you knew what awaited you at the end of it.

“Don’t look down, don’t look down.”

You glanced back up at him, petrified.

“Just keep your head on my shoulder and close your eyes.”

And eventually, you did, taking deep breathes and allowing yourself to reminisce a time where you’d do exactly what you were doing. You’d hang onto him like you were now, and he’d allow you to, knowing a hug was always what you needed to calm down.

He was your anchor, keeping your ship from sailing away into dark and stormy oceans.

A gush of wind later and your feet were safely planted on stable ground, and he was long gone before you had the chance to say anything.

No opportune time came. It never felt like the right moment, and you thought that it wouldn’t ever come.

Sally had asked that you stay after school to do your hefty science project, and you agreed since you had nothing better to do. And that’s when you saw him most of the time.

Two weeks after the Washington DC. save, you started paying even more attention to him. You noticed him participating in Spanish class more, you saw him stay after school for detention due to him skipping out on Decathlon, and you noticed he didn’t dash out of school when detention was over.

Sure, you felt like a creep just watching him from afar, but you knew something was up. He seemed less enthusiastic, and you were pretty sure it had to do with the fact that Spider-Man sightings dropped to zero, as New York questioned his whereabouts in newspapers you saw in bodegas.

Your guess was that after the ferry incident, Tony Stark took his suit away. Peter was a genius, through and through, but you knew he didn’t have the items necessary to build his suit, and so you guessed Tony made it for him, and had the ability to take it away whenever he pleased. You weren’t sure what the reason was, but you hoped it was a good one.

Even after seeing him multiple times throughout the day, you’d always rush to the bathroom to rehearse your speech in the mirror and hype yourself up, only to chicken out last minute. You wondered if you should text him or call him, asking to meet up, but you always shook your head and thought, “better not.”

Your brain was constantly seeking out chances and imagining different outcomes, and that resulted in your nerves skyrocketing and mind blanking at inappropriate times.

Like right now.

“Y/n!” Flash’s loud voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Um,” You sheepishly rubbed your arm and bit your lip, avoiding Flash’s questioning eyes.

“Penis Parker is right there! Come on, this is a great opportunity.” He nodded towards Peter who was sitting at the waiting office, tediously toying with the strings of his hoodie. Flash believed you were still in shock, and his way of bringing you back to life was finding opportunities to bully Peter. You used to love it. But now, now you couldn’t bear to do it. Not that he knew that.

Before you could object, Flash strutted his way over to him and leaned on the doorframe, “Yo, Penis Parker.”

Peter closed his eyes and deeply sighed, looking up, “What do you want, Flash?”

“You know, Spider-Man never mentioned anything about knowing you,” He taunted, getting straight to the point, “I mean, he would’ve had he not stood you up at that party. Probably isn’t your first time getting stood up, though, huh?”

He chortled, “I’d bet my life that you probably don’t even have a date to Homecoming. I don’t know who to feel worse for. You, for 100% getting rejected or the girl being asked by you, right, Y/n?”

He twisted his head to see your blank face, your body stiffening as your vision moved to Peter, who was watching you with an almost pained expression, as it brought back memories of the weeks before. The weeks that felt like they happened years ago.

You knew Peter was waiting for another insult to hit him, but you found yourself unable to speak as your eyes were glued to his, feeling your stomach closing in on itself.

You couldn’t do it anymore. You knew it wasn’t right, and you knew that it was time to stop, especially after everything Peter had done for you. After all the times he saved you.

You cleared your throat and focused on anything but Peter, “That’s enough, Flash.”

Flash’s posture slacked and he furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“That’s enough.”

“But-“

“Eugene.” You cut him off, looking him dead in the eye and delivering a message that meant you were serious. You jutted your head in your direction and walked away, missing the way Flash and Peter stared at your retreating back incredulously.

With Homecoming approaching fast, you agreed to go with Zach, one of Flash’s friends and the boy who wouldn’t stop bugging you about going with him. You knew he just wanted to use you to tell others he ‘scored’ but you couldn’t care less. Truthfully, you were only going to confess to Peter that you knew his secret. Homecoming, you thought, would be a perfect time considering you planned to be each other’s dates to the event when you were younger.

Guess you didn’t know that time not only brings people together, but separates them, too.

You drove yourself to Homecoming and parked your car as close to the school as possible in case things went wrong and you needed the escape. You took a minute to touch up your hair and makeup, which really wasn’t much more than your normal everyday look, and inhaled deeply before getting out and walking into what you were sure was going to be a disaster, purse hanging by your side.

You met up with your group of friends, rolling your eyes as Zach hugged you (too tightly), that were drinking punch in their most stylish dresses and tuxes and dancing to upbeat music. Liz and her team definitely did a good job setting up the decorations and disco ball, successfully transforming the boring gym into a chic dance floor.

Flash had informed you beforehand that he’d be taking ’this chick’ to a lavish restaurant before coming to the dance and asked if you wanted to tag along, but you refused to be a third-wheel, telling him you’ll instead meet him at school instead.

Homecoming meant close to nothing to you if you weren’t with the person you’d been waiting for your whole life, which is why you spent the first fifteen minutes eyeing the crowd for a certain boy. The sooner you told him, the less you’d feel like you were going to throw up the contents of your stomach.

And finally, you saw him entering the building looking pale, like he’d seen a ghost. You worried, your gut telling you something was seriously wrong as you watched him walk to Liz, appearing to be distressed, and perhaps..guilty.

Everything only worsened when Liz’s face dropped and-

He was running. Running away from Liz. Which clearly didn’t make any sense, but goddamnit nothing is making sense these days!

You contemplated going after him, not understanding what the fuck was going on. Why was he running? Does this have something to do with Spider-Man? Should you run after him?

Something was pulling you towards the double doors he sprinted through, like it was calling your name and luring you in. You didn’t know if you should answer its callings or ignore them.

He could be in danger.

But he also could’ve just panicked.

It was obvious Liz was his date, and maybe he ran to the bathroom to freshen up and give himself a pep talk. Usually, you were the one to do that, but you lost your place as his personal hype girl long ago.

But then, why is Liz crying?

No, no, this isn’t something Homecoming related. This is Spider-Man related.

You excused yourself from your group and made it look like you were heading to the bathroom, but once everybody was out of sight, you threw your heels to the side of the hallway and raced around the halls, wondering where he would be.

You were short of breath as you took a minute to stop and place your hands on your knees. You ran through almost every hall you could, and you were running short on routes to take.

While stretching your neck, you saw something on the ground in your peripheral vision. A strewn tie.

You went over and picked it up, confirming that it was indeed the tie Peter was wearing. Up ahead were a whole bunch of stray items of clothing scattered around, and you followed those, picking them up along the way and tossing them in a big pile beside the lockers.

You hoped to God he wasn’t naked like you thought he was.

The clothes stopped when you reached the back of the school, where the buses were usually parked. You quietly opened the door and let your bare feet touch the cold asphalt below them. You heard talking, a man’s voice, and the same purring sound you heard when you found the glowy-machine thing, only louder.

You hastily followed the noises, hiding behind one of the large buses, placing a hand on your mouth to keep your gasp inside at the shock of the scene laid out in front of you. There Peter was, on the ground beside an upside down bus, attempting to escape from the man that was advancing towards him with another strange machine.

“Why did he send you here?” Peter grunted, using his elbows to crawl away. You panicked and looked around for something, anything, you could use to fucking stop the guy from killing Peter. Your eyes lit up when you recognized one of Peter’s web shooters thrown to the side, sauntering over to it and turning it in your hands, trying to get it to work.

“Come on, come on.” You muttered, hitting it multiple times while aiming at the guy to get it to shoot, but you didn’t know how it worked, and nothing that you were doing seemed to be doing anything.

“Guess you’ll never know.” Said the dude, pulling back and getting ready to shoot at Peter.

“No, no, no, come on! Shoot your gross webs!” You desperately mumbled under your breath, hitting it harder and faster. Your palm ended up smacking a button, making a large web come out and cling to the machine. You were frozen in spot as the guy’s eyes met yours, pure anger swirling in them.

“Yes!” Peter said before turning to look at you. His shoulders stiffened, but he shook his head and pulled on the web, taking both the bad guy and the web shooter down with him.

Now that both of the webshooters were in his hold, he used them to web up the villain to the bus.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until a voice came out from behind you, “Holy shit!”

You jumped in surprise, pivoting and raising your fist to punch the stranger behind you. Your jaw fell open the second your hand collided with Ned’s face, guilt rendering you motionless.

“Oh my God! Oh my God, Ned!” You gasped, hesitantly putting a hand on his back, feeling absolutely horrible as he held his eye, moaning in pain, “I’m so sorry! I-I thought you were one of them so I just- are you okay? Holy fuck, I’m so, so sorry!”

“Damn, Y/n.” He weakly laughed, “Who knew you could punch that hard?”

You bit your lip in worry, “I’m so sorry, Ned. I didn’t mean it, I swear.” You said, trying to get a look at how bad it was.

“It’s good, I’m fine. Well, maybe I’m gonna need some ice but I’m cool, it’s all good.” He gave you a thumbs up before hissing and opening his eye.

It looked swollen and was starting to turn into a nasty shade of blue, but he kept reassuring you it was okay, which didn’t make you feel any better.

“I’ll get you ice, I promise.” You said, rubbing his back gently with a pained expression.

The clearing of a throat behind you called to you and Ned’s attention, an awkward silence setting between the three of you until Ned's eyes widened as much as they could.

“Oh! I-it’s Spider-Man!” Ned said, unconvincingly trying to sound surprised, “W-what a coincidence that you’re here, Spidey! I-I’m such a huge fan! And I’m sure Y/n is, too.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep breath, “Why do you do this to me?” You mumbled into the sky.

“What are you doing?” You asked Ned.

“What do you mean? It’s Spider-Man. Isn’t it shocking that he’s here?”

You heard a long, disappointed sigh coming from Peter, who stood far away from both you and Ned. Too far, in your opinion.

“Ned, I know who he is.” You admitted, somehow hearing Peter’s breath getting caught in his throat.

“I..I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Dude! I know it’s Peter, cut the bullshit. You’re horrible at lying.” You turned to look at Peter, giving him a sad smile, “And you’re still not good at hiding things from me.”

Peter’s shoulders visibly sagged, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head, something he did when he was uncomfortable. He must’ve seen you dissect his action because he immediately put his arm down.

“Okay,” Ned sighed, “well, what now?”

“Look, I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” You cautiously said, “I’m just..I can help if you want me to. With that.” You pointed towards the webbed dude, offering your services to Peter. You swallowed down the feeling of you doing this to make yourself feel better about the way you treated him. Almost like you were trying to reverse what you’ve done.

Regardless, Peter stared at the villain for a long time, and then abruptly spoke.

“All right, here’s what I want you both to do.” He finally said, hastily moving closer, “The guy with the wings is Liz’s dad-“ Ned gasped, “-I know! I gotta tell Mr. Stark. Ned, I need you to call Happy Hogan, he’s Mr. Stark’s head of security. Y/n, I need you to track my phone for me, okay?”

You nodded, and even though you were confused as shit, you were happy to help in any way possible.

Ned quickly took off, holding his white hat to his head as he ran back into school with an obvious pep in his step. Peter was getting ready to swing away, but you weren’t going to let your chance leave with him. You readied yourself, the speech in your head tumbling around in your mind, ready to exit your mouth.

Ready to get some closure, and to finally be the bigger person.

“Peter?” You said, your voice coming out as a whisper, but the wind seemed to have carried it over to him because he stopped and hesitantly turned around.

You had to remind yourself how to breathe as you looked at him. He was so close, yet so far away, and just like that, your mind went blank, the words erasing themselves and leaving you with a tight throat. You gulped, your legs carrying you over to him before you chickened out even further.

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his rigid body, feeling the tears starting to cascade their way down your cheeks.

What for? You didn’t know, but you just let them fall anyway.

“Thank you.” You wobbly said, slightly afraid that he was going to push you away when he just stood there. It took a moment for him to give in and return the hug, pulling you closer. He nodded into your shoulder, and you knew he understood what you were thanking him for without having to say it.

You both worked like that.

You couldn’t comprehend how much lighter you felt after saying those words, how much had been lifted off your shoulders that you finally, finally did the right thing.

Finally, you did something you wouldn’t ever regret.

You gave him one last squeeze and pushed him back, keeping him at arm's length, fighting the urge of staying in his arms forever, "Be safe.” You sniffed, stepping back to give him space.

“I will.”

And with that, he swung away, leaving a promise behind that he’d be safe, and that he’d make it out okay.

You breathed out and straightened your posture, wiping the tears away with your hand and running into school to pay the nurse’s office a visit.

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[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER XVIII

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Chapter XVII | Chapter XVIII | Chapter XIX

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing, slight homophobia and transphobia

WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

AN: So! If you thought that the last chapter was a rollercoaster ride, then you'd better sit down for this one. I spent ages on this chapter, and I have to say I'm really happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

"Stop being such a fucking coward," Taehyun whispered, voice shaking. With either anger or unbearable sadness, neither were sure.

Beomgyu closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, there was a look of resignation within them. He raised his sword. "Brains before beauty," he said, and Taehyun did not hesitate.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Taehyun lunged and thrust out his sword with such force that Beomgyu had to whirl out of the way at the last minute.

Surprised at the vicious attack, Beomgyu gave a startled laugh. “You hate me that much, huh?”

Taehyun didn’t answer, and advanced upon Beomgyu, slashing his sword ferociously. Beomgyu staggered back, deflecting Taehyun’s attacks with his sword.

“Why are you doing this, Taehyun? Do you really hate me?”

Taehyun gritted his teeth. Truth be told, he had no idea now. He thought he did, because what else could this intense emotion inside him be?

He could see Beomgyu open his mouth again, probably to tell Taehyun to stop, but he didn’t want to hear Beomgyu at that moment, so he spoke first.

“Of course I hate you, idiot! Why else would I betray you so much?” He punctuated the statement with a fierce lunge, as if to prove he really did hate Beomgyu. He didn’t know who he was proving it to, and he didn’t even know if it was working.

Beomgyu couldn’t answer, too busy fending off Taehyun’s attacks. Taehyun suspected that Beomgyu wasn’t really trying. As the son of a swordmaster, Beomgyu’s skills ought to have rivalled that of the former prince’s, but his play was infuriatingly ordinary. It was almost like he wasn’t trying… as if he didn’t want to hurt Taehyun. For some reason, the thought made Taehyun angrier, and he attacked Beomgyu harder and faster. But the King just calmly flicked off Taehyun’s sword with his own, spinning out of the way in an almost relaxed manner. His face, however, was anything but relaxed. Distress, hurt, panic, and anger warred across his facial expressions, as if he had no idea what sort of emotion he should be feeling right now.

“Is there anything else you lied to me about?”

Beomgyu caught Taehyun off-guard by suddenly asking a question, and the vizier almost tripped. Beomgyu stepped away quickly, lowering his sword. Taehyun thought he saw Beomgyu offer a hand out of the corner of his eye, but when he straightened, Beomgyu was just standing still, waiting for Taehyun to come at him again. Taehyun narrowed his eyes and lunged.

“Yeah, there is. You remember the sister, right? The sister whose life I swore upon when I came to you with the contract, before the Crown Handing. I lied to you about her. She was my sister: my real blood sister from the Jeo clan. The Jeo clan has no surname branches, right? She and I were the last of the Jeo clan. Said sister died when she was born, just two years after me. I’m the last of the Jeo clan.”

Beomgyu sucked in a breath, almost forgetting to block Taehyun’s attack. The sword came down and slashed a long cut in Beomgyu’s coat but he didn’t even register it, staring at Taehyun in sadness and disappointment. “So you really did lie to me about something else. Wow. I… I should have known.”

Beomgyu’s disappointed tone made Taehyun feel even worse, and gritted his teeth, coming down even harder on Beomgyu.

“What can I say? I really do hate you.”

“You know it’s better to talk things out rather than fight, don’t you? Taehyun, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do this?” Taehyun scoffed, never taking his eyes off Beomgyu’s sword. “This is long overdue, Beomgyu. This hate I have for you: it’s mutual, isn’t it? Don’t deny it. Surely you must hold hate over me.” He advanced on Beomgyu, almost pushing him into a corner of the room.

“It’s not mutual,” Beomgyu insisted. “It really isn’t. Believe me, I know my feelings, and this emotion I have for you is not hate. And why does it have to be talked about like this? Taehyun, please. Why can’t we just sit down and talk normally?” Beomgyu ducked under Taehyun’s arm, freeing himself from becoming trapped.

“Stop being a coward, Beomgyu,” Taehyun hissed, once again going after Beomgyu. His sword came crashing down on Beomgyu’s, and Beomgyu struggled to prevent Taehyun’s sword from touching him. “You’re always running away. You know that, right? You’re such a coward, always running away to avoid things. You’re always running away from things even remotely related to me. You ran away from court, you ran away from your duties. You’re running away right now. When will you stop running away and just face me ?”

At that, something in Beomgyu snapped. He stopped trying to back away from Taehyun, and threw off Taehyun’s sword with sudden strength, this time advancing on the vizier.

“Me, running away from you? Are you being fucking serious right now? Taehyun, I’ve never run away from you. Never!”

Taehyun was taken aback by how quickly Beomgyu’s mood had switched, scrambling to deflect Beomgyu’s blows.

“You were always the one running away from me, Taehyun. I asked you to face me, but you’re the one who avoided it. You avoided me in the first place, you know that right?”

Taehyun scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Beomgyu snapped, sword just silver blur in the lights. “When I came out to you, you avoided me. Hell, even before that! When Jieon revealed himself as gender fluid, you avoided me!”

“Well what was I supposed to do?” Taehyun yelled back, slashing his sword with even more vigour. “I had a reputation to protect, you know!”

“Your reputation was more important than your best friend and his brother? Seriously?” Beomgyu said. “Wow, I never thought you’d sink that low!”

Taehyun made a noise of indignation, swinging his sword at Beomgyu. The other deflected his attacks easily, and Taehyun struggled to defend himself.

“Why shouldn’t I worry about my reputation?” Taehyun fired back. “I was the prince, Beomgyu. In this homophobic Kingdom, being seen with you two wouldn’t be beneficial to me at all.”

“You could have at least helped, Taehyun!”

“Helped what? What are you talking about?”

Beomgyu stepped back, and Taehyun stopped too. He stared at the vizier in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?” Taehyun repeated.

At that, Beomgyu flared up. Taehyun genuinely had no idea?

Taehyun, tired of waiting for Beomgyu, attacked again, but didn’t get far before Beomgyu’s sword started to swing harder and faster. There was a look of pure heartbroken rage on his face.

“Jieon died, Taehyun! He took his own life.”

At those words, Taehyun stumbled. “What? I– I thought he just ran away.”

Beomgyu scoffed, angrily brushing away a tear. “You’re so ignorant. Didn’t you notice that I was wearing black for a whole month? Oh– that’s right. You were too busy avoiding me.” Beomgyu lunged, anger fuelling his movements. “Jieon was all I had! When Mother ran away when I was five, and Father was too busy with his Lord duties, Jieon was the one who looked after me. You could have stopped the bullies, Taehyun! You could have stopped them from taunting him, pushing him to kill himself! But you didn’t. You did nothing to stop them, Taehyun! Nothing!”

“Well I didn’t know, did I?” Taehyun shot back, sword slashing furiously to block Beomgyu’s attacks. “How can I do something if I don’t know what it is?”

“‘Tranny’, ‘fake man’, taunting him and calling him ‘it’... They dehumanised him so many times, not even caring when he informed them that he felt like a ‘she’ or a ‘they’ or a ‘he’ at that time! Do you know how hard that must be, Taehyun? To see people just not care?”

“So then why are you calling him ‘he’?” Taehyun retorted.

“Because he was a ‘he’ when he died!” Beomgyu snapped, tears and sword glistening in the light. “I still see his face, that look of helplessness… I felt so fucking useless in that moment. I couldn’t stop him, no matter how hard I begged. No matter how hard I cried and begged him to stay, he still jumped.” His watery glare honed in on Taehyun again. “But you could have stopped them! You could have done something, and yet you did nothing! And don’t give me that ‘I didn’t know’ bullshit, because this was huge back in court. You knew, Taehyun! But you did nothing!”

“At least I didn’t join in!” Taehyun defended himself, both with his voice and sword. “Unlike all those others!”

“But you didn’t stop them, Taehyun!” Beomgyu yelled, tears choking his words. “Because you did nothing, it makes you as bad as them!”

Taehyun stood there, stunned. He didn’t even notice Beomgyu’s sword coming at him until the last minute, and he spun away quickly. The sword impaled itself in the stone wall, vibrating slightly from the force which Beomgyu had used. Judging by how deep it was lodged into the stone, Beomgyu had added his wind strength to drive the sword harder. Taehyun stared at the sword in shock.

Beomgyu was sitting on the floor, sobbing hysterically.

“I never hated you, Taehyun. It sounds like I hate you, but I don’t. Not you. I may have hated what you did, but I could never hate you. Never you. To me, you would always be the kind, loving Kang Taehyun, the Taehyun I knew since he could barely walk. Because I knew who you truly were, I couldn’t hate you.”

Taehyun’s sword clattered to the floor. Beomgyu didn’t even look up at him, face still covered by his hands.

“Though I may have gotten mad for what you’d done, I could never hate you. I tried to, I swear I did: I tried to hate you when you rejected me for being homosexual; I tried when you betrayed me and landed me here, and I’ve tried several times these past months. But I just can’t,” Beomgyu sobbed, now hiccuping because of the force of his tears. “I could never hate you, no matter how hard I tried. It drove me fucking insane, Taehyun. Do you want to know why I could never hate you? How, despite everything that happened, I never hated you?”

“No,” Taehyun said. “I don’t.” I do. I want to know why you could never hate me, the person who betrayed you over and over again.

Beomgyu ignored Taehyun, and continued talking. “Forget what I said about ‘loved’, past tense,” he said through tears. “I still do. I fucking love you, Kang Taehyun!” he screamed, suddenly becoming hysterical. Taehyun took a step back, wide-eyed, as Beomgyu scrunched his fists into his hair, still sobbing.

For a few minutes, he wasn’t able to form proper words, his tears choking all coherent sentences he could make. He cried and hiccuped, his hands doing little to wipe the tears that kept pouring down his cheeks. Some part of Taehyun told him to go help Beomgyu, but all he could do was stand there, hands swinging uselessly by his sides, as Beomgyu rubbed at his own eyes. Eventually, it seemed his eyes grew tired of constantly watering, as his tears began to die down, until he was just giving the odd hiccup.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, wetness still glistening on his cheeks. “You could hurt me a thousand times, but I’d never be able to hurt you, not even once. I can’t. You can roll your eyes and sigh and push me away like an annoying child, but I’ll still come back like an obedient puppy. Even if you scream and glare and tell me you hate me, I can’t hate you. Because the Taehyun I know could never truly hate me, either. The Taehyun who smiled and laughed and who I spent my most precious moments with. The Taehyun who called himself the moon to my sun, who lit up my darkest nights. The Taehyun I fell in love with long ago, who I still believe is inside you. Call me stupid, call me an idiot. But I can never hate you when I knew what kind of person you truly were.” He wiped at his cheeks, looking sad and tired and so heartbroken it made Taehyun’s heart hurt.

“Then why?” Taehyun whispered. “Why did you say you hate me?”

“It was easier than explaining how I truly felt,” Beomgyu said. He looked up at Taehyun, eyes bloodshot and teary, but still bright and beautiful. “I love you, Taehyun. It may sound abrupt, but I really do. I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t remember what not loving you feels like.” He gave a tired, watery smile, all the anger and fury drained out of him. “You probably don’t feel the same. I knew you didn’t anyway, the moment you walked out on me, three years ago. It’s okay. But I just want you to know that it was never hate I felt for you. It was love.” Slowly, he stood up and reached out his hand. Taehyun flinched, thinking Beomgyu was trying to reach for him, but Beomgyu’s sword just flew out of where it had been impaled in the wall, back to Beomgyu’s hands. He placed the sword by Taehyun’s feet, and stepped back: a traditional sign of surrender. A sign used when a soldier recognised a more skilled, more powerful opponent that he could never be able to maim. Normally, it would be used when a soldier couldn’t hurt them; here, Beomgyu used it to show that he wouldn’t hurt him.

After placing his sword at Taehyun’s feet, he straightened, and stepped back again. The action was sad and defeated, and it made Taehyun’s heart clench uncomfortably.

“Ah, right. I came here to apologise, didn’t I? Well then, here is my last apology: I apologise for being here in your life, Taehyun. I apologise for all the pain and frustration I’ve caused you. I never intended to be someone that you hate, and I apologise for that.” Taehyun didn’t say anything, so Beomgyu hesitantly bowed again. “I’ll… I’ll get going now.”

Despite those words, he stayed where he was for a few more seconds, as if hoping for Taehyun to say something. The hope was evident on his face, too. But when Taehyun just stared blankly at him, he sighed – a small, barely-there sigh. But Taehyun heard it. And yet again, his heart clenched. Still, he didn’t move. He only stood there and watched as Beomgyu slowly trudged away, footsteps loud and echoing in the large gymnasium.

Something in him stirred: a desperate, intense emotion that persisted within him. With every step Beomgyu took, it felt as if he were stamping all over Taehyun’s heart. As he watched Beomgyu gradually move further away, he felt a strange urge to call out to him, to prevent him from leaving. It was strange in the fact that he’d never felt something as intense as this before, and it only came when he was around Beomgyu. He gave a gasp suddenly, as he realised. He finally realised, after all this time, what the intense feeling was. And it wasn’t hate.

“I don’t hate you.”

Beomgyu paused. Slowly, he looked back, and there was a small, sad smile on his face. “There’s no need to pity me, Taehyun. I know that what you feel for me is far away from love. It’s alright. I’ve learnt to live with it.”

“I don’t hate you,” Taehyun repeated. “I don’t hate you.” Finally, he began to move, walking towards Beomgyu. “I don’t. Just like you, I pretend I do, because it’s easier than admitting what it actually is. And what it actually is… is something other than hate.”

Beomgyu was already shaking his head before Taehyun could finish. “No, Taehyun, don’t. Please don’t give me hope. Hope is a flimsy, foolish thing. I have been misled by hope one too many times, and I will not be led astray again.” Beomgyu retreated again, but Taehyun reached out a hand and grasped his wrist, holding him in place.

“Please, just listen,” Taehyun begged. “Listen, and believe me. Even though I didn’t know it myself until just seconds ago, I’m sure that my feelings are correct. Surer than anything.”

The other didn’t say anything.

“Please.”

Beomgyu closed his eyes and looked down, inhaling a shaky breath. But he didn’t remove his arm from Taehyun’s grip. “Go on then,” he said in a small voice. “Since it looks like you really want to. Give me hope.”

Taehyun breathed a sigh of relief, his body relaxing. But he still gripped onto Beomgyu’s wrist tight, as if it were his lifeline.

“You were right,” he said. “I was always avoiding you. Always trying to stay away from you, to stay away from the feelings I felt. Because when you were around, all I could focus on was you.”

The hand which Taehyun didn’t have a grip on was curled at Beomgyu’s side. He clenched his fist, head still bowed and eyes squeezed shut, as if he didn’t want to look up at Taehyun.

“That day… I walked away from you because it made me realise that I might feel… that way about you as well. The– the thought scared me, because it was so different, so sudden, that I didn’t know what to do. So I freaked out, and walked away.” Taehyun sighed. “I know, I know. It was an asshole move. I know that now, and I’m really, really sorry.” He gave a weak smile. “You’re right, you know. I’m the coward. I was the one who avoided you because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. Because I was so scared, I convinced myself I was repulsed and hated you, to explain away the intense feeling I felt. I ran away from my feelings. I ran away from you. And I’m sorry. I really am. You’re not the coward here, Beomgyu. The coward here is me.”

Taehyun bit his lip, hesitating.

“I really am just the moon, Beomgyu. Timid. Pale. Relying on you to be able to live. I only come out in the darkness, while you’re going to sleep, because that’s when I feel most confident. Because I’m just a scared, shy moon who relies on their bright, happy sun to be able to feel some warmth.

“When– when I lost you, when you left court, you have no idea how cold I felt. When you left, I realised what a huge mistake it had been to let you go. But I was prideful: I didn’t want to admit my mistake. And so I let you go, even though it hurt me to do so.

“When you were gone, I felt more confident about myself, since your light wasn’t with me. Your bright, beautiful light which shone even on sunny days. My life had been plunged into darkness, and in that time, I was the brightest light. There was no sun with its light guiding the way. It was just me, on my own. In that darkness, I slowly forgot how bright your light was, convincing myself I didn’t need you. That I was bright enough to shine. I told myself I didn’t need you, didn’t have to need you anymore. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t want you. Until… until I did. But when you came back into my life, it wasn’t with the tirelessly optimistic brightness you normally had. Your light had dimmed, and saddened, and that just made me feel even worse. Because I did that to you. I turned my back on you, and I hurt you.”

Slowly, gingerly, he slid his hand down Beomgyu’s wrist, loosely intertwining their hands together. Beomgyu offered no resistance, and even gripped Taehyun’s hand tighter. But still, he didn’t look at Taehyun.

“When I realised that, it made me feel even worse. I was meant to be your moon, the rock always by your side, but I abandoned you, because I was too scared to own up for my own feelings. And because I don’t want to see your light die further, I’m doing it now. I don’t hate you, Beomgyu. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself, it never fully worked, even though I tried to believe it did. Because for as long as your light shone, so did mine, and I could never hate you for being there, helping me live. I truly don’t hate you.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but please,” Taehyun begged, voice wavering with the amount of emotion he felt, “please, believe me. I don’t hate you. Far from it. It may seem like I’m only saying it, but I mean it too. When… when I thought I was going to lose you just now, that’s what did it for me. It’s what made me realise that I really do care for you, Beomgyu. I couldn’t lose my light again, because of yet another stupid mistake of mine. I know I’ve lied and betrayed you so many times, but I’d never lie about this. I care about you more than you thought. I care about you more than I thought. I really do.”

Beomgyu squeezed Taehyun’s hand tighter, fingernails digging into the vizier’s skin. Taehyun’s hands were damp with sweat, but still he clung to Beomgyu desperately, begging the other to believe him.

There was a tense, desperate silence between them. Beomgyu didn’t respond, and Taehyun didn’t add anything further to his confession. He couldn’t– it felt like his throat had shrivelled up, and his tongue had forgotten how to form words.

Beomgyu took several slow, shaky breaths, before finally lifting his head to look at Taehyun.

“Taehyun, please, don’t do this to my poor heart,” he whispered, voice cracking desperately. “You can’t do this to me. I’m weak for you. I’ll believe every word that comes out of your mouth so please, please don't lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Taehyun said, holding Beomgyu’s hand impossibly tight. “I really am not. Truly. No, Beomgyu, please.”

Beomgyu was messily trying to extricate himself from Taehyun’s grip, but the vizier kept on clinging to his fingers, not wanting to let him go.

“I can’t,” Beomgyu said, voice quivering. “I– I can’t do it, Taehyun. I love you, a lot, far too much to risk believing you. I’m content with loving you alone, and not getting the love returned. I never would have imagined this, so please, don’t lie. Please.”

Still, Taehyun tried to hold onto Beomgyu. “I’m not lying, I’m not, truly. No– please, Beomgyu, no, no…”

With several tugs, Beomgyu managed to extract himself, stepping away. When Beomgyu finally pulled away, Taehyun let out a small sob. He didn’t even notice, but tears had begun to form in his eyes. His eyes were bright with desperation, brimming with liquid. Now, a single droplet fell down his cheek, and he didn’t even bother to wipe it away.

Tears had formed in Taehyun’s eyes countless times before, but it was today, the first day in years, that he let them fall.

Beomgyu watched in shock as the tear trailed down Taehyun’s cheek. His face crumpled briefly, distraught at the fact that Taehyun was crying because of him. Still, he took another firm step back. And, with some difficulty, another. But the raw pain in Taehyun’s eyes made him stop, his own eyes beginning to water again. Beomgyu wanted to believe Taehyun. He wanted to believe him more than anything. But he also didn’t want to get hurt. Because that’s all that Taehyun had done in years – hurt Beomgyu again and again.

“Beomgyu, please, I can’t lose you, not again–”

“If you’re my moon, then it’s best to stay away, right?” Beomgyu said desperately, not wanting to hear Taehyun’s broken voice. “As the sun, stay with me too long and I’ll only hurt you. I’m too fiery, brash, immature: I could hurt you–”

“But you never have,” Taehyun said softly, the tears in his eyes making them shine like stars. “You’ve never hurt me, only showed me the truth. I was the one who hurt you with lies, and betrayal. You never hurt me, Beomgyu.”

Tears were now slowly tracing their way down Beomgyu’s cheeks again. “You just said it yourself,” he said. “You’ve only ever hurt me.”

“I know, and I’m so, so sorry,” Taehyun whispered, reaching out to hesitantly wipe away the tears from Beomgyu’s face. His hand lingered on Beomgyu’s cheek, reluctant to move away.

“How do I know you won’t hurt me again? How do I know you aren’t lying to me right now?”

Taehyun hesitated, and Beomgyu removed his hand from his cheek.

“I don’t, do I?” he said rhetorically. “Then I can’t. I can’t become a fool for you again.” He stepped away, quicker than he’d done before, before he could be persuaded yet again to stay.

He strode away almost desperately, looking like a man fleeing from temptation. Which, it could be supposed that he was. He was pulling open one of the huge, gymnasium double doors. He was leaving. One more millisecond and he would be out the door, and would never be the same way around Taehyun again. He wouldn’t be able to so much as look at the other anymore. Their relationship – their twenty four year relationship as friends-but-something-more – shattered, just like that.

But Taehyun was already at the doors, slamming them shut, a hand over Beomgyu’s on the doorknob to prevent him from leaving, pushing Beomgyu against the door.

Beomgyu’s eyes were wide, lips already parted to try and say something.

But before he could even get a word out – before he could even begin to form a syllable – something soft and warm pressed itself against his mouth, and all his protests withered like flowers in his throat.

After all, who was he to complain when the love of his life was there, right in front of him, kissing him in the gentlest way imaginable?

His eyelids fluttered shut, transfixed by the sensation of Taehyun’s mouth on his own. The hand covering his came up to rest on his cheek, pulling Beomgyu even closer towards Taehyun.

He was melting. There was no other way to describe it. Beomgyu was melting under Taehyun’s touch.

Taehyun was the only thing taking up all of his senses– his intoxicating, slightly sweaty, Taehyun-like scent, his feather-light touch, his comforting, familiar presence: fuck, Taehyun was even the only thing he could taste in that moment. His soft, plush lips, pressed ever so gently against his own, making Beomgyu’s insides melt from the softness.

Ever so slowly, in a sweet, unhurried manner, he began to kiss Taehyun back, adoring the fact that Taehyun was here, right here, kissing him in the gentlest way possible, his touch as sweet as honey. It was like Taehyun was the flower and Beomgyu was the honey bee: he was completely taken by Taehyun, and couldn’t get him close enough.

Eventually, in an almost reluctant manner, Taehyun pulled away, still holding Beomgyu’s face in his hands. He licked his pinkened lips nervously, staring up at Beomgyu.

“I don’t want you to ever think I’m going to hurt you,” he said softly. “Because… I like you. A lot. I– I don’t know if this feeling is love, but if it isn’t, then it’s pretty damn close. I would never intentionally hurt you. Not again. Not anymore. Not now, now that I know how I feel for you.”

Beomgyu was silent for a tense minute, and Taehyun grew more anxious. Perhaps Beomgyu didn’t believe him? Perhaps he thought Taehyun was lying?

Taehyun opened his mouth to add onto what he had just said. “You might not believe me, but it’s true. Even if you don’t believe me, could you think about it? Give me a chance? I know I haven’t been that forthcoming with you, and I’ve hurt you so many times, but everything I just said… I really did mean every word.” Beomgyu just stared at him. The tears were building up in Taehyun’s eyes again. “Please, Beomgyu, could you believe me? Please. Hell, the longer I think about it, the more it seems to be true. Beomgyu, I l–”

Beomgyu took Taehyun’s face into his hands and pulled him into another kiss. And, though it was muffled by Beomgyu’s lips, Taehyun gave a soft gasp, letting out a surprised oh.

This kiss was more desperate, more determined than before. Beomgyu’s lips moved against Taehyun’s almost feverishly, as if he couldn’t get enough of him. His touch was firmer, more sure of itself. Taehyun staggered back, surprised by the force of the kiss. One of Beomgyu’s hands came down to Taehyun’s back, guiding him to one of the pillars by the door.

This kiss was passionate, full of raw emotions. Taehyun’s hand weakly rested on Beomgyu’s waist, overwhelmed by the fervor with which Beomgyu kissed him.

Though he hadn’t said a word, Beomgyu’s message was clear.

I believe you, and I love you. I love you, so so much. I love you.

Those three words echoed in Taehyun’s brain as they kissed, over and over again. It was all that filled his mind as Beomgyu’s lips moved against his, soft and yet passionate and oh so wonderful.

He loves me. Beomgyu loves me.

Suddenly, he began to cry.

During their first kiss, Taehyun had been too overcome with fear, anxiousness, and desperateness to make Beomgyu stay that he hadn’t fully registered what was happening. But now, feeling Beomgyu of his own accord pull him in, attaching their lips together… the thought that someone loved him enough to do that was overwhelming in itself, but to hear it loud and clear, the ‘I love you’ evident in Beomgyu’s actions: it was all too much for Taehyun to take. For someone who’d bottled up his emotions and detached himself from his feelings for years, building up this facade of a curt, cold, unapproachable person– this obvious display of love made him break down into tears.

He was crying: harder now, so hard that Beomgyu pulled away, fearing he’d done something wrong.

“Taehyun? I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Taehyun grabbed onto Beomgyu’s wrists to stop him from moving away, sinking to the ground. He held Beomgyu’s hands, pressing his lips against his knuckles. “I love you,” he managed to whisper through sobs. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Understanding the situation, Beomgyu’s face melted into a gentle smile, coming to crouch down next to Taehyun. “It’s alright, it’s alright… I love you too.” Taehyun began to sob harder, and Beomgyu pulled him against his chest, letting the younger cry into his shoulder.

He pressed a soft, loving kiss onto Taehyun’s hair, wrapping his arms more tightly around his shaking shoulders. Taehyun continued to cry, pressed securely against Beomgyu’s chest, still whispering ‘I love you’s repeatedly.

The afternoon sunlight continued to stream in through the gymnasium windows, before darkening to the richer, warmer evening light. The pink sunlight reflected off their swords, lying discarded in one corner. The light slowly faded, before disappearing altogether, a navy sky studded with small lights replacing the orange and pink canvas. And still, the two of them stayed there, in each other’s embrace, exchanging words of confession and soft, shy kisses under the gentle, serene light of the moon.

And for the first time, the first time in many years, they were happy. Together.

[the-pale-goddess]

Breakfast at Tiffany’s - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

Tiffany surprises Ethan with a fancy breakfast.

It’s all cute until it turns to filth. Then it’s fluff again. Aaaaand back to slutty. A three-course, self-indulgent breakfast, if I may convey.

Rating/Category: Explicit / smut with a side of fluff

Warnings: p*rn with no plot, language

Author’s note: Coming back to my OH2 more or less canon fic business!

Here’s the smutty part of the little band aid I promised for all the harm I’ve done to you with Home With You AU. I just wanted to give you something sweet before we proceed with the emotional rollercoaster in Chapter 3...Well, I did my best, but my filthy mind would never allow me to write some pure and innocent fluff 😅 Hope it’s not too slutty for you lol You’ve been warned!

Please, forgive me the title - I just saw the opportunity and I took it lol

____

Ethan opened his eyes with a sinking feeling this Thursday would be out of the new ordinary. His bed was cold and empty. There was no cascade of black hair unwittingly waking him up with a gentle tickle on his skin, no tender caress begging him to stay in the sheets a tad longer.

Another surprise awaited when an overfamiliar appetizing smell hit his nostrils, forcing him to rush out of bed in order to investigate the unexpected scene.

The missing piece of Ethan's morning routine was dancing her way through the kitchen, wreaking sweet havoc with a pile of dirty dishes and different ingredients scattered all over the kitchen island, just to cook a tower of flawlessly fluffy pancakes – now proudly placed on display near the oven. They looked perfect, but not as perfect as Tiffany in the weak morning light; her dark wavy hair falling down on bare shoulders, in contrast to the lacy white lingerie set that flaunted all her curves. She was swinging to the tune she whistled to herself, oblivious of the lurking admirer.

„I don't think I'll ever get used to this view.” Ethan's voice got her spinning around in a flutter to face him. He was leaning against the fridge, an adoring smile playing on his lips as his eyes were roaming over her silhouette. She flushed furiously under the intensity of his gaze, trying to hide the sudden clumsiness of her movements with a sheepish beam.

„Your girlfriend cooking breakfast for you in nothing but her underwear?”

He eyed her intently, biting his bottom lip before he answered with a poker face. „My kitchen in disarray.”

Tiffany shook her head incredulously, as she strained the freshly made raspberry sauce through a sieve. „Trust me, it'll be worth it. And don't worry, I'll clean everything up later, Doctor Terminator.”

„It already is.” He pulled her body close to his, causing her back to collide with his chest. „I can't believe you're still using that nickname.”

„You have to admit it's catchy.”

„Mhm. Do you need any help?” His arm draped over her shoulder, hugging her tight.

„Sure. There's a dozen of pancakes waiting for you. Hope you're ready for a sweet death topped with whipped cream and a home-made raspberry sauce.”

„I didn't plan on falling into a food coma, but you had me at pancakes. Meaning yes, I'm ready.” The powerful combination of Ethan's soft lips and his scratchy chin glued to the sensitive skin on her neck, peppering her with featherlike kisses.

„Someone's clingy today.” She gave him a loud peck on his forearm.

„I'm starving, Tiffany.” A husky whisper rolled in her ear, the words followed by a gentle bite that sent a red-hot shiver down her spine. She chuckled to herself.

„Good! I was genuinely scared that you'd hate the idea because of your love-hate relationship with pancakes. The sauce will need a few minutes to cool down a bit, and then – Oh!” Tiffany stopped dead in her tracks when the hard evidence of Ethan's hunger pangs pressed against her butt. She dropped her jaw in surprise, slightly amused by the realization she didn't get the hint quite right – it was a different kind of appetite. She spun round to face him, the wicked smile suggested she was more than eager to play along.

„On second thought, I suppose we can have a taste of what will be served today.” Never breaking the gaze, she dipped her finger in the whipped cream and offered it to Ethan. He licked it clean, keenly watching Tiffany's face turn crimson red.

„Not bad for a mixture of fat and sugar. Though it's far from what I expected to be on the menu.” Tiffany raised her brows, fake offended, her expression elicited a hearty chuckle from Ethan.

„Well, aren't you a picky eater, Doctor Ramsey? Luckily, I came prepared.” Her finger dived into the bowl with raspberry sauce. „Try some of this.”

„Mmm, delicious.” He gushed, his tongue slithering around her finger. „But yet again...That's not what I crave the most.”

”I wonder what would that be...” She bit her lip seductively as she reached for Ethan's hand. He swallowed loud and moved a bit closer just when she slipped his thumb into her mouth. The provocative movement had his imagination run wild. „Aren't you gonna tell me?”

„Tiffany, I...” Ethan failed to articulate his thought, too absorbed in sinful visions almost melting his brain.

„Tell me what do you crave, Ethan.” She demanded and he suddenly felt even weaker. His thumb got trapped in her mouth again, her other hand massaging his inner thigh through the material of his pants.

„You.” His voice dripped with wild need.

„How do you want me?” Tiffany released the thumb with a heady pop, holding his stare the entire time.

„I want to...”

„Do you want to come in my mouth?” She used his finger to brush her bottom lip, then grazed it with her teeth mere seconds later.

„Fuck...Yes, please.” He muttered, pressing his forehead together with hers.

Smiling magnetically from ear to ear, Tiffany crashed into Ethan, kissing him hungrily with their tongues twisted together. The prelude wouldn't last long, and in a flash she moved down his body – already hot and shivering with primal need. Her lips glided over every inch of his skin, placing open-mouthed kisses along the way. Just when she was low enough, she flipped her hair and dropped on her knees, pulling his pants down with her.

Ethan could swear that the very sight of her mischievous smile dancing around his throbbing cock was enough to make him come. He shuddered in tense anticipation as he watched her tease him with graceful strokes of her tongue wandering around his abdomen.

„Could you...” A tantalizing base-to-tip lick shut him up on the spot and took his breath away. She followed the same path with a soft touch of her lips, quietly humming with relish. His hips bucked involuntarily, overpowered by the tender sensation, begging for more.

The unspoken request was yet to be fulfilled – her slim fingers began stroking him at the base, while her mouth covered the sensitive tip. He groaned in response, his body temperature rising to a dangerously high level. His hand instinctively tugged at her hair, tying any defiant locks in his handy grip.

When Tiffany slid his whole length into her luscious mouth, the divine warmth took away the last bit of control he had, and made him gasping for air. Fighting back the tears was a feeble effort with his huge member hitting her throat, but she rose to the challenge, gagging violently before she adjusted to a safe and steady rhythm.

Ethan marvelled at the view of her watery emerald eyes gazing into his blues as she sucked him like her life depended on it, her precise tongue and skillful hand working him up to a blissful fever. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure had him moan ecstatically, bringing him on the verge of madness. Encouraged by the guttural sounds reserved only for her, she quickened the pace, bobbing her head up and down. His muscles reacted in an instant, tensing even harder, demanding an immediate release. A few moments later, he reached his high and spilled inside her mouth; the obscene groan of his climax ringing in her ears like a favorite song. She took the load with a triumphant smirk, swallowing every drop.

„This is grossly unfair.” He leaned on the nearest countertop awestruck, satiated and out of breath, struggling to keep himself standing.

„What is?” She got up, climbing up his body, and bit down on his shoulder blade.

„The power you have over me.”

Tiffany grinned, pressing her cheek to his broad back as she wrapped her arms around his chest. „But you did like the first course of your breakfast, didn't you?”

„I haven't eaten anything yet.” Ethan turned around, falling into her embrace with a pointed look.

„All right, I'll fill you up with these pancakes now.” Chuckling softly, Tiffany took a step back, seemingly ready to start the day, but Ethan kept her in place by holding her wrist. A gleam of lust reappeared in his eyes as he was slowly regaining his energy.

„Pancakes can wait a little longer. Let me eat you out.”

Before she managed to form a sentence, Ethan's fingers skimmed through her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the ground. His greedy hands began exploring her body, tracing her curves, only to slide his fingers behind her panties and pull them off, so they would share the fate of the bra.

„You know that I've never really understood the purpose of art, but looking at this absolute masterpiece right in front of me?” Tiffany raised her brows in surprise, returning his worshipful gaze. „I think I might modify my stance.”

„Wait, is that an actual compliment, or you're quoting some lines from the poetry book you'll soon be releasing?” They both snorted with laughter that quickly died when their lips fused in the hastiest, sloppiest kiss.

„I'll let you win this one, you deserve it.”

„Oh, what a lucky day!” She chirped in sarcastic tone. Ethan shook his head and lunged for her neck, sucking at her skin.

When his lips abruptly broke away from her, she yelped in protest, but little did she know what Ethan had in store for her. The burning desire in his eyes instantly set her body ablaze. He turned her around, brushing her messy hair away from her back, and began kissing her along the spine, inch by inch, moving excruciatingly slow. His beard rough against her silky flesh, scratching her pleasantly. She closed her eyes, relishing the delight of Ethan's touch. Suddenly, a piercing smack flew across her butt.

She jumped, flabbergasted, as her blood boiled with excitement. „Ethan Jonah Ramsey!”

„You liked that, didn't you?” He let out a supremely confident laugh and spanked her again.

„I plead the Fifth.” She giggled, biting her lip. His hands squeezed her bum and lifted her up. A moment later she lay flat on the kitchen island, legs spread wide and waiting.

Ethan wasted no time – his lips continued the journey across Tiffany's aching body, nuzzling her hips, kissing her thighs, licking her belly, sucking on her breasts. They were everywhere, except where she needed him most. He noticed how hopelessly she tried to catch his attention with the suggestive movement of her hips, but he decided to torture her for his own enjoyment, savoring the exquisite scent and taste of this very special meal.

Her impatience eventually rubbed off on him. At last, he nestled comfortably between her legs, and sunk his tongue directly into her soaked folds. She didn't even make an effort to tone her moans down and Ethan was quite grateful for that. His tongue worked its magic, lashing at her clit, knowing exactly where to suck to bring her over the edge. Her hips rolled to the rhythm of Ethan's licking, begging for more friction. He immediately read the sign, inviting his fingers to join the fun. He rubbed her expertly, all the while licking her swollen clit. She was so close, already sweaty and shivering, with hands on both sides of the countertop, her knuckles white from all the force she had to use to keep herself from falling down.

When Ethan kept his pace up, she knew he was going for the last bite. In the blink of an eye, she arched her back, coming hard as the outpouring of bliss washed over her. She fought for her breath, lying still with her eyes closed and mouth open.

„Don't get too comfortable there, Rookie, I'm not done with you.” She could feel him smirking against her skin when his lips moved down her trembling leg.

„Is it because last night I fell asleep during your precious documentary and we missed our daily dose of inappropriate snuggles?” Tiffany cracked up and Ethan soon followed.

„Yes and no.” He leaned his chin on her knee, meeting her gaze. „I know how much you hate both cooking and waking up early. This is the least I could do to make this morning more tolerable for you.”

„Keep spoiling me like that and I will literally melt.” A beam of unfiltered happiness spread over her face, her eyes filled with utmost adoration. „Besides, just to clarify: I hate cooking, but I enjoy doing it for you.”

An intimate silence washed over them as they stared at each other, basking in the glorious feeling of these small gestures of affection. Ethan shook his head in wonder, his mind racing. He wanted to tell her. He was certain she knew that already, probably even long before he had realized the nature of his feelings...And yet, his words failed him, offering a blank space instead of a proper way to name the drums echoing in his heart at the very thought of Tiffany. He quickly gathered himself, stood straight and cleared his throat.

„Enough chit-chat, we're on a very tight schedule. Stand up.” With a little help from Ethan, Tiffany jumped off the countertop and hooked her arms around his neck.

„Oh, I'll show you tight, sir.” She avowed with a devilish grin.

„God, you're impossible.” Ethan heaved a long sigh in response, right before their lips melted into a deep, fervent kiss.

Cutting to the chase, Tiffany turned her back to Ethan, colliding with his body. Without any hesitation, he entered her with a hefty push, filling her up in a way she'd never experienced before. She was perfectly accustomed to his size, but the standing position was brand new to them. She didn't expect that a slightly different angle could leave an all-consuming, almost agonizing feeling of fullness before he even began pounding her. A series of vehement whimpers escaped her mouth without her permission. Her chest heaved as she struggled to control her breathing. If it wasn't for his firm grip, her legs would surely give up.

Ethan immediately noticed the unconcealable shift in her demeanor. He cupped her cheek, slowly pulling out of her.

„Baby, is everything all right?” He whispered, his voice full of concern. „Do you want me to stop?”

She instinctively grabbed his hand and locked her body on him in a desperate cry, every word a torture. „I want you inside.”

He nodded, relieved, pulling her as close as it was humanly possible. Her head lolled back, resting comfortably on Ethan so they could still glance at one another. They exchanged a blithe smile, reflecting the dizzying sensation of each other's presence. His lips brushed her forehead in a sweet kiss just as he began moving inside of her.

He started off slow, pulling in and out as gently as he could, keeping her steady in his protective arms. Her previous remark proved to be right – she was insanely tight and dripping wet, her scent and unrestrained moans only adding to his arousal. He knew he wouldn't last long.

„Harder, please.” She whimpered, tightening her clutch on his arms. He willingly complied, deepening his thrusts, setting a merciless pace. The sound of slapping flesh punctuated by their heavy breathing and pleasure vocalized in the most indecent way.

Everything was Ethan – he invaded all her senses, emptying her mind, leaving nothing but his name. Tiffany could feel the thunder in his heart pounding on her back; his hands were mindlessly roaming over her curves as she remained trapped in his strong embrace. His fingers snuck to her clit, rubbing her with expert precision while his cock kept on ravishing her. She was mere seconds away from another orgasm, unable to communicate in any form other than shameless moaning.

Ethan was right behind her, chasing the finish line. His deafening groans got more desperate, thrusts slower and rigid, his fingers pleasuring her frantically, until they both cried out in unison – their bodies twisted in overwhelming ecstasy.

Tiffany toppled over the countertop, breathless – her blazing flesh took comfort in the cold of the marble, with fingers skimming blindly across its surface in a desperate attempt at keeping herself steady. She had no time to recover, as Ethan's body clutched at her tight, his burning skin clamping around hers. His ragged breath hovered over her ear, just as his hand dived into the damp mess of her hair, pulling her locks aside to gently suck on her neck.

„Oh, God...We should...” She panted with her eyes closed, tilting her head to give him more access.

„Mhm.” He hummed with approval, tracing scratchy kisses across her shoulder. „I know.”

Instead of acting on the incoherent thought, he turned her around, crashing into her lips without any warning. They kissed slowly for a long minute before Tiffany retreated, gazing into the endless ocean of his eyes. A cheeky smirk flew across her face.

„You called me baby.”

Ethan stared at her perplexed, his brows frowned. „No, erm...I didn't?”

„You totally just did.” Tiffany's laughter filled the room, the sound shook him to the core, along with the realization the pet name might have accidentally slipped through.

„No, you probably misheard that.” He stuttered an evasive reply, that earned a well-deserved scoff.

„Don't try to deny that you called me baby for the first time, and it happened – let me stress that – during sex.”

„Stop it. Let's not make a big deal out of this. We still need to get to work.” Ethan countered, hoping that the final argument was meaningful enough to end the cross-examination.

„That's a very convenient excuse, Mr I'll Casually Avoid Any Uncomfortable Topic. You're right, though. We should hurry up with the proper breakfast. But let's take a quick shower first.”

„Together?” He cocked his brows, sceptical about the idea.

„Yeah, why not?” Her index finger twirled around his nipple.

„We're already running out of time, we can't afford the further delay.”

„I thought you like a challenge, baby.” She pressed a wet kiss on his chest and broke the embrace. Ethan watched her walk off towards the bathroom with a tantalizing sway of her hips. He took a sharp breath, his eyes followed her every move, scanning her naked form up and down. When she reached the bathroom door, she shot him a sultry wink and disappeared behind the door. He shook his head, transfixed and defeated, muttering to himself.

„We're going to be late then.”

___

Sorry if there are any typos or mistakes, this B is too tired to double-check lol

___

Taglist: I’ll post it separately in a reblog because [tumblr] is being a brat

[geekkatsblog]

Grey's Anatomy season 17×06 Review

(How the f**k they just gonna leave me on read like this till March 4th)

The episode was a rollercoaster but something tells me the real ride is going to happen from the next episode.

___________________________________________

Maggie

I knew Winston was gonna show up in person at some point or the other. When he dropped the long distance wasn't working line and put the phone down in her ear so he could get some 'eggs' I knew he was in Seattle, good for her she's going to need him to lean on seeing that Mer freaking crashed again. At least she'll have somebody there for her because all her other support is personally attached to Meredith as well.

Besides Winston turning up, treating Tom and her being understandably giddy at Mer being awake there was also a scene where she educated Amelia on some things now I won't get into the details again but I'm just in love with the fact that Grey's isn't afraid to touch on controversial topics, they use their large platform to raise awareness and their speeches are always on point.

___________________________________________

Teddy/Owen

(She needed the time off more than Bailey did tbh)

My God was it satisfying when Richard literally just tore into her. She put herself in the situation and is now taking her anger out on others which is really in poor taste. Poor Helm, I hope she didn't take it personally. At this point it's her time to annoy me, I miss the season 6 Teddy, hopefully she redeems herself soon. After being torn apart by Webber's words she then proceeds to make things worst by revealing yet another big secret to Owen at work. (At least this time it was on purpose.) She just needs to take some time away and think on what she really wants and needs to reflect before spontaneously starting potentially life changing conversations. First it was telling Tom they had a chance then it was telling Owen that she still loves him and the kids while also revealing that she named their daughter after not only her best friend but also the woman that she was very much in love with. Pick a struggle Teddy at this point she's seeming confused more than anything else.

___________________________________________

Owen

For the past few seasons Owen was one of the characters getting on my nerves but lately he's been fine. He hasn't redeemed himself yet but his probation is going fine. Watching this show really shows how good of a person a doctor has to be in order to follow the ethical guidelines. If I had that scum bag for a patient I would have literally just pretended to fail at saving him and let the guy die, (guess that's why the Lord made me suck at Chemistry and Physics) his response to Bob about him being at the devils barbecue was badass, gave me serious season 5 Owen vibes or vibes like when he punched that guy out for disrupting the ER when he was chief, Major Hunt reporting for duty.

As for him and Teddy I can get why he was upset, her he was about to attempt to make amends at probably rekindling a friendship or maybe their relationship and she revels that your daughter is named after her lover, she could have atleast told him that when they were in the naming process, he deserved to know exactly who his child was being named after. I'm kinda a bitch but there was no way I'd feel comfortable having my child named after my partner's lover. On the other hand he should hear her out he has literally cheated twice and both times he sat and was able to share his side of the story and the woman he was with listened to his explanations. Teddy deserves as much, it might hurt but he did the same and Karma unfortunately is still a bitch.

___________________________________________

Bailey

(I just wanted to give her a hug the whole night.)

She has a really unhealthy habit of working through her grief, first her miscarriage and now through the death of her mom. I'm honestly sad that Ben had to be the one to comfort Tuck and tell him his grandmother had even died (she's always so busy, Ben is pratically the one raising him at this point.) And I'm also upset that I haven't gotten to see Ben being there for her either. I'm assuming it might be a protocol on the sets.

At least she took time off of the cases, I understand why she didn't want to go home as a doctor she has the highest risk of transporting the virus, but her mind understandably wasn't going to be in the doctoring game. I really thought they were gonna make her freeze up and accidentally kill a patient or something, but at least they didn't go down that line. And what even happened to her dad? did he take the Covid test? Wheres he staying now? Is he safe?

The conversations between her and Deluca were sweet, it's another unexpected friendship, before the only one she really disclosed any details of her life with was Richard but now they're opening her support group which is fine. I'm also glad that Deluca was able to look past the whole fiasco last season and hold no grudges. She has now fully redeemed herself completely, she's still my all time favorite character but from season 13 to probably mid season 16 she really had some storylines and scenes that irked me to watch and made me question some things, but now she's back on track at least to me.

Also I know that Richard is the chief of chiefs but how are they just gonna let him take back over the surgery unit like that again? I mean I did miss him as chief but now Bailey just basically seems like a regular old surgeon with a fancy office, idk it just seems kinda weird to me.

___________________________________________

Jackson

Not only carrying on the work and teachings of Mark Sloan but also using his boatload of cash to rescue a patient's mother from racist police who should have been the ones actually in prison. That was basically it for him though.

___________________________________________

Jo

Oml I honestly almost forgot she was even really in the episode. She had so little screen time. She's still in the middle of transitioning to OB. I have no issue with that because OB's still can do surgery, so we'll still get to see her and she'll be happy again plus it's about time that Grey's cashes in that Regulars card on Carina. We see her on Station 19 as an accessory I want to see the Jo and Carina tag team.

___________________________________________

Amelia

Not really much in this episode. No content with Link she just did surgery to save the scum with Owen. They may have made a mediocre couple but they work good as friends. Also I'm assuming she's off of maternity leave now? Did they mention that I'm not sure but she's back now.

___________________________________________

Richard

Not much of a storyline, he made the decision to put Meredith on the Vent and is busy running the hospital as the chief of the hospital again I guess. And also spitting the much needed facts that Teddy needed to hear.

___________________________________________

Tom

They're finally showing more of Tom's good side, I mean I always liked him and saw the potential in his character but they never really showed his soft side for a prolonged period like they did today. May I just say I enjoyed his and Meredith's friendly banter they have the same lowkey dark humor and at least it would have taken their minds off of being sick especially for him because he basically has no one else. Hearing him open up about his son and expressing how he'd do anything to hear him say dad again was sad I can only imagine his pain. Meredith was his reason for holding on especially after he had to witness his roommate die from Covid, the same thing he's suffering from right before his eyes and now Mer back unconscious this time with a tube down her throat I'm just really hoping that he keeps the faith, the last thing we need is a death right now.

___________________________________________

Meredith

(God damn it Mer all you had to do was stay awake.)

For a few brief moments all was right with the world Meredith was awake and everyone was happy and then she just had to go be Wonder Woman and over exert herself, but that's the thing they would have probably needed armed guards at the doors to keep her from putting someone else's life above her own, its one of her best qualities and at times one of her worst. I knew it was too good to be true when she was awake and laughing. It was giving me Mark Sloan final episode vibes. They better not kill her off that would be the worst ending for me, what about the kids? Step off the damn beach Mer you've gone through too much to let Covid take you out. On the other hand this gives us more beach scenes. It's more unlikely to have a live character return but there's still lots of dead ones to choose from, her mother is always a likely suspect, Denny loved being on the show and I think Breaking bad had its final season, Mark is a toss up based on how he cut ties with the show and Lexie is also a toss up because she is filming Supergirl in another country, however anything is possible with Grey's. I thought the beach scenes were over because she was waking up but look how wrong I was. All I hope is that they don't kill her off its unlikely because she's the main character but still its Grey's they like to go out with a bang.

___________________________________________

Deluca

I left him for last because to me he really did have the biggest storyline of the night.

Firstly I'm glad to see that at least part of the earliers season's Deluca has returned. I loved him as the passionate, badass and almost cocky guy as well but I always missed his more compassionate and softer side more. I'm glad to see it back and I'm also glad to see that he's taking his meds and resting, and I can confirm that having support is a needed factor in treating mental health. As strange as it was seeing the Bailey and Deluca chat it's good that they both have each other. They both suffer from mental illnesses and can relate to each other on a different level. They have me wondering now if they're going to use his mental health issues as a way to separate him and Mer, or use it as the reason why he pursued her, kinda like how they tried to blame Amelia's tumor for her bad decisions and then used it to break her and Owen up. I guess we'll just have to see where Merluca will go from here or if it will manifest Merhaynes instead.

Now onto the big stuff, the whole sex trafficking thing the whole episode I was literally yelling at the tv for either Deluca, Bailey or Carina to see that bitch, the moment it was connected that the kidnapper was involved in trafficking and she showed up I knew shit was about to go down. My heart was racing when I saw her with Schmitt. I really thought she was going to attack him with how sus she was being, luckily she had to go to avoid further suspicion. They need to put security on those girls' door. They've been through enough. If she goes to finish off Bob then no one cares but the girls don't deserve to go through anything else and Deluca after seeing her decided to go after him himself instead of calling the police, granted the police wasn't doing anything helpful but the last thing we need is for him to go after her himself like Superman and trying to save the day. At least Carina went with him so she can help talk him down if necessary but there's only so much she can do.

___________________________________________

There are too many damn superheroes in that hospital.

___________________________________________

My questions are:

• Will both Tom and Meredith make it out of the Covid sickness or will one or even both of them die?

• Will Teddy finally make her mind up so that the Teddy, Tom and Owen love triangle can finally have an ending?

• Who the hell is coming to the beach next? And can they tell Meredith to get her ass off of the beach and never return until she's like 80?

• Will Superman, I mean Deluca save the day without needing medical attention afterwards? Or worst yet needing a casket?

• Is Jo actually switching specialties?

• Are they going to go after the girls or kill Bob instead?

• How is it going to go with Maggie and Winston now that he has arrived in person?

• And lastly and most importantly what am I supposed to do with my Thursday nights until March 4th.

[artificialqueens]

These People in This Room (Don't Shine Like You) (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Lawrence has just been crowned the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK, and Ellie is right beside her. Just like she’s always been.

a/n: omg HIIIIII! here’s my entry to the fic challenge (will it be my only one? who can say). in a shocking turn of events this is not a drabble asdfghjk but would we have expected anything concise from me? this fic was inspired by Shine and Starstruck, both by Years and Years. they are very diamond chaney songs so pls do give them a little listen for full effect! standard procedure, she/her pronouns bc they’re in drag, u know the drill. this has taken me entirely too long to write but pls enjoy some diamond chaney from the night of the crowning! (pls also collectively pretend they had an actual dancefloor to celebrate on and not just a hotel room bc i had already started writing at the point Ellie posted her BTS. fic is just one big serving of pretend anyway xo)

***

It’s somewhere around midnight, the sun has set on Thursday and Friday has crept in, and Lawrence is sitting in a booth with the dancefloor flashing bright colours in front of her, only just daring to believe that this is her actual life.

There is not a single moment that seems real. Even being one of the top four took her essentially since filming stopped to come to terms with. But hearing her name being read out, hearing the other girls cheer for her and being able to do nothing but stare at the screen in disbelief with her hands over her mouth and sob like a baby…that’s not sunk in yet. Maybe it never will. She’s still feeling the after-effects from the way the shock and euphoria had kicked seven shades of shit out of her pulse, the way the serotonin had crashed over her like a wave and the absolute unbridled lack of control she’d had over any of her emotions.

When the cameras had been cut off and they’d been given the all-clear from the producers that they could hug each other, Lawrence had only managed to stand up from the chair, still in floods of tears as Bimini bundled their arms around her, Tayce had jostled them all with the way she’d jumped up and down and yelled in delight, and Ellie had looped her arms around her neck and murmured into her shoulder, words Lawrence couldn’t hear but felt the love from regardless.

It had to be Ellie, really, that crowned her. It was a full-circle moment. She still remembers the night they met for the first time; Dundee in 2016, some time in the early hours of the morning (she’d probably called it ‘bastard o’clock’ or something similar), coming out of the bar and being stopped by a boy in half-drag similar ages with her who spoke rapidly and excitedly and told her that he’d messaged her about starting drag and she’d replied to him. The way realisation had dawned on her and the way she’d been her usual loud and boisterous self to cover up the fact she’d actually been quite bashful about the fact they were meeting for the first time.

There was no alternative, not least because of everything they’ve been through together; the years leading up to this moment and the rollercoaster it’s all been. She’s glad that they’re on a high because they’ve seen each other at their lows (been the cause of each others’ too, sometimes) and pulled through only slightly scathed, but always stronger. The producer had asked Lawrence who she’d wanted and when she, still speechless, had pointed in Ellie’s direction, seeing the tears start to stream down her face had only made Lawrence’s start all over again. They’d hugged- just the two of them this time- and the way Ellie had immediately felt like a safe place in the crazy chaos of reality reminded Lawrence so much of when they had filmed. The way even just hearing Ellie’s voice would stop her feeling homesick, the way she was a living comfort blanket.

She’d never tell that to Ellie, of course, because she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

It’s been a couple of hours and Lawrence is expecting everything to suddenly sink in any minute now. Something will click like the last piece of a puzzle and she’ll finally accept that she’s won, that the whole thing isn’t a giant and premature April fools’ prank. She turns her phone over in her hand, wondering what all this nervous energy is doing to her body chemistry. She’s got messages from her family, her friends, Kiko, the girls she works with back home. Well…some of them. But apart from reading them and frantically replying, Lawrence hasn’t checked anything else; hasn’t opened Twitter or Instagram, where the notifications are piling up like pizza leaflets through a letterbox and are equally as unwanted. If she thinks about them she can feel her stomach twist, wrung out like a wet towel.

Forty thousand likes. The Team Bimini tweet had forty thousand likes. What did her own get? Eight thousand? Lawrence thinks about the sheer scale of forty thousand people, compares it to the population of towns in Scotland. Almost Airdrie. Just under Coatbridge. She imagines a whole town of people, angry and furious and disappointed, and all of them tweeting her to let her know exactly that. She remembers in high school when she thought the whole of Hermitage was against her. She wants to tell baby Lawrence that that was fucking small fry. A thousand kids? Try the sheer scale of Bimini’s fanbase. Her breath is shaky when she tries to breathe in, like her lungs have reduced in size. It reminds her of that time in school camp when they all had to jump from a pier for some unknown-fucking-reason, how freezing the water had been and how her chest felt tight as she gasped for air. Lawrence supposes it was character building in the sense that it prepared her exactly for how anxiety would make her feel later in life.

In for four. Hold for five. Out for six.

“There she is!”

An ever so slightly slurred and wobbly voice breaks Lawrence’s reverie, and when she looks up she sees Ellie approaching her, a little unsteady even in the flats she’s changed into with a glass of prosecco in each hand. It says a lot that even at the top of a helter-skelter of an anxiety spiral, Lawrence’s heart still gives a little swell when she sees her friend. Ellie has always been able to make her feel better. She feels an almost silly sense of relief that she’s here.

Lawrence takes one last little breath in before plastering a small smile to her face. “Awrite? Where’s Mumma Diamond?”

“In her room conked out. Just got back from putting her to bed, she couldn’t hack it. Letting down the family name, that one,” Ellie huffs, sliding into the booth and squashing up right beside Lawrence, even though there’s enough space for two metres distance even if they had still been under strict instructions from the BBC.

“Tayce?” Lawrence asks, gratefully accepting the prosecco glass and hurriedly downing a too-big gulp in an attempt to calm herself down.

“Facetiming A’whora. Of course.”

“Of course. Maybe a bottle and a half of prosecco is gonny be the love potion she never knew she needed.”

“Fuck, we can only hope,” Ellie grins, already laughing through her words. “If we’re gonna be touring with them I don’t wanna have to karate chop through five layers of sexual tension every time I have to walk past them.”

Lawrence chuckles, tired but humoured and unable to not make the so-obvious joke. “You couldny fight sleep.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll fight you in a minute!” Ellie nudges her with her shoulder and spills both of their prosecco from the glasses in their hands. The gesture is affectionate and out of place with the impending threat. “Where’s Bims? Thought they were with you.”

Lawrence shrugs. “Went out for a smoke with one of the runners about twenty minutes ago and never returned.”

“Good for them. Always thought there’s something inherently sexy about a winch in a back alley.”

“Well, you would know.”

“Eh, so would you!” Ellie cries, nothing short of incredulously offended. Her expression makes her look even more like a cartoon character than usual, and it’s entirely too endearing.

“Yeah, forgot that popular phrase. It takes two to winch in a back alley,” Lawrence jokes, but her heart isn’t in it. It’s too heavy and her ribcage feels like someone laced her into a corset and pulled it too tight. She’s hoping Ellie is too drunk to notice.

Ellie sips her prosecco with her eyes on her, then scrutinises her as she swallows it. She frowns, her nose wrinkling up as she prods Lawrence with an acrylic-nail finger. “What’s up?”

Fuck.

“The sky,” Lawrence says without conviction, and the raised eyebrow Ellie gives her in return is enough to unlock her. She deflates like a balloon and brings her phone up so Ellie can see it, turning it over in her hands. “Just…as happy as I am, and as much as this is all a dream come true…I keep psyching myself up to open any social media, and I can’t, because this one fucking brain cell of anxiety keeps telling me that everyone out there hates me and hates the fact I’ve won.”

Ellie’s face falls into a frown. She gently pries the phone out of her hands and places it on the table, takes one of Lawrence’s free hands in hers and rubs her thumb over her knuckles. “But all your other brain cells know that’s wrong.”

Lawrence sighs. “So why’s that one louder than all the rest?”

Ellie presses her lips together in a badly-suppressed smile. She’s giggling as she speaks. “Because you’ve only got two brain cells.”

Lawrence splutters a laugh, shoving Ellie with her free hand. The other is still laced together with hers. As the laughter dies down and the momentary serotonin wears off, Lawrence can feel her brow furrowing involuntarily. “Forty thousand people wanted Bimini to win, Ellie. Forty thousand. You know that’s like a whole town? That’s like the population of Coatbridge?”

“ Fuck Coatbridge!” Ellie exclaims, affronted, and her shock and insistence makes Lawrence snort all over again. “Okay, forty thousand people is a town but really, what’s that to the rest of the world? Think how tiny that is in the grand scheme of things, Lawrence! Honestly, give a fuck about what any bastard who wants to send you anything vile thinks of you! You’re so amazing! You won! Fuck everyone else!”

Lawrence wants to feel cheered up. The prosecco Ellie’s drunk is making her all the more animated and lively, giving her words a determination and a passion that her speech so rarely possesses most of the time. Ellie is calm, and she doesn’t get wound up easily. There’s something about the fact she’s growing this animated over getting Lawrence to believe in herself that warms her heart a little.

Then again…

“It’s not just that, though. There’s girls from home that haven’t even said well done. Girls I’ve always supported and couldn’t do enough for, and it’s like…really? You can’t be happy for me when I’ve actually managed to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for years?”

“Well maybe they have said well done, and you’ve just not seen it because you’ve been hiding,” Ellie gestures matter-of-factly at her phone. It doesn’t convince her.

“They won’t have. You’ll know who I’m talking about, Ellie.”

Ellie sighs a little, clearly conceding that Lawrence is right. Her grip on her hand tightens a little, and when Lawrence looks up at her in response her blue eyes hold a glint of assurance.

“Well, even if they haven’t…fuck ‘em. Onwards and upwards, chick. You’ve got ten new sisters out of this who’re always going to know what it’s like, they’re gonna be here for you no matter what,” Ellie says comfortingly. Lawrence knows why she’s said ten and not eleven, but Ellie affirms this with another squeeze and a slightly shy smile. “And you’ve always got me. You’ve always had me.”

This is true. She’s always had Ellie. Before the show, doing gigs with her and hanging out with her and going to DragCon with her. On the show, always there to reassure her or pull her out of a negative spiral or just lean against her shoulder and squeeze her hand. And after the show. Whatever that might look like. Whatever that might be.

She supposes that neither of them know yet.

“C’mon,” Ellie says decisively, holding out a hand for her as the song changes. It’s some sort of Paolo Nutini dirge, and Lawrence has to laugh at how obviously whoever is in charge of the music has rushed to attempt to find something Scottish. Lawrence can only blink at Ellie’s outstretched hand.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on! ” Ellie laughs. Lawrence doesn’t know if she’s blushing or if it’s just the lights.

But she does know that she can’t leave Ellie hanging when she’s looking at her like that.

So Lawrence lets herself be dragged out to the dancefloor and pulled into a hug as Ellie sways them left to right ever-so-slightly out of time with the song, tipsy and full of affection given the way her arms are locked around Lawrence’s waist. It should feel stranger than it does. In reality, being held by Ellie feels as simple as just existing.

Or perhaps simpler than that, given the fact that Lawrence’s existence feels entirely surreal right now.

“You have to be in drag for half past se-ven,” Ellie sing-songs, bringing one of her arms out from around Lawrence’s waist and tapping her on the nose. Lawrence immediately misses it, so it’s a relief that it’s not gone for long.

“Because I wo-on,” Lawrence imitates back to her, and the way Ellie squeezes her waist in response and affirmation causes a smile and a blush to bloom on her face without her even being to control it. She rests her head against Ellie’s chest so she can’t have the satisfaction (ammunition) of seeing how she makes her feel.

It’s little moments like that that she needs right now. Anchors to keep her down on earth, to let her know that this isn’t just some really prolonged lucid dream and it’s all actually happening because currently reality is so absurdly ridiculous; she’s just won Drag Race and she’s slow-dancing with Ellie to the song that’s blasting through the speakers in the background, a parody of some American high school prom where she’s just been crowned the queen.

Moments like these- where Ellie’s holding her close as if she’s literally trying to protect her from the world- remind her that not everybody is against her. Not everybody hates her. Not everybody is wishing her a slow and painful death because Bimini didn’t win, least of all them. She knows that Ellie was never able to share what team she was on even though she hadn’t had a chance at the crown, but she didn’t have to. Not really. They’ve always been on each others’ team.

Ellie jolts Lawrence out of her daydream with the way her chest is shuddering, and Lawrence momentarily thinks she’s crying again before her soft giggle becomes audible over the music.

“What?” Lawrence tilts her head up, meeting Ellie’s scheming, smirking face.

“Can’t believe RuPaul Charles asked if you wanted to move to London, city of dreams, city of a thousand opportunities…” Ellie begins, Lawrence already laughing as she knows what the conclusion to her sentence will be. “…and you said, ‘yer awrite pal, am fine in Glesga wi the jakes an’ the Blue Lagoon chippy an’ the guy that stands on Buchanan Street and yells at everyone that they’re going to hell!’ ”

Lawrence would normally roll her eyes at Ellie’s impersonation of her accent, but she’s laughing too much at the joke that’s forming in her head to commit to it. “RuPaul asked if I wanted to move to London, and I said…”

The pair of them are almost giggling too much to get the punchline out, Ellie clocking on to how it’s going to end. In sync, the pair of them splutter out a “… NNNNAAW! ”

Giddy and happy, Lawrence rests her cheek against Ellie’s chest again. “London’s got junkies too, anyway.”

“This is gonna sound really selfish, but…don’t actually move to London,” Ellie’s voice murmurs from above her, and there’s something plaintive to it that makes Lawrence refrain from replying with a joke or a barb like she normally would. The way Ellie follows it up cements that fact. “It would probably be so good for you, but like…Glasgow would be lost without you, genuinely. And so would I.”

Lawrence can’t cry again tonight, even if it’s only because she thinks it’s physically impossible, so she just squeezes Ellie tight until she worries about her ability to breathe. “I’m not going anywhere, hen.”

Lawrence doesn’t even really know what they are, her and Ellie. They both still have Grindr and they talk about their hookups and raised hopes and broken hearts with each other like friends. But they’re not really just that. They’re affectionate, and they open up to each other with the same shared unspoken understanding of something Lawrence doesn’t understand. They hug for too long and cuddle up to each other when they’re together, and Lawrence can’t count the amount of times during filming that she’d find strength in the way Ellie would squeeze her hand without a word. They’ve woken up together too many times (why she’d felt the need to remind Ellie of that while the cameras were rolling, she’ll never know) and kissed each other more than that. Every time they say I love you they mean it, but they also mean a little bit more. There’s no butterflies or fast pulses or fluttering hearts- they’re past that stage. Everything is just natural and normal and easy.

She wonders if they’ll ever put a label on what they have. There’s a part of her that doesn’t ever want to.

“If we’re both still single by the time we’re forty,” Lawrence begins, leaning back to look at Ellie through her glazed, half-drunk half-tired eyes. “…we should just say ‘fuck it’ and get married.”

(She doesn’t even know if it’s a joke or not.)

Ellie laughs as if it is and nods as if it isn’t. “Drag wedding. We’d need to upstage Tayce and A’whora, though.”

Lawrence realises something. “I’ll turn forty two years before you.”

There’s a pause as the song starts to fade out, and it makes Ellie’s murmur seem louder than it is. “That’s okay. We don’t need to wait for me.”

The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart and the way Ellie’s talking as if it’s an actual plan makes her think maybe it wasn’t really ever a joke after all. It’s ridiculous though, and it’s all theoretical, and it’s a totally hypothetical scenario, and they’re both drunk , for Christ’s sake. So Lawrence pulls out of Ellie’s arms and takes her hands in her own, the song that’s started playing more upbeat and the opening chords inciting some sort of hope and optimism in her heart for the future that’s unfolding for the pair of them.

“One more song then bed?” she suggests. Ellie raises her eyebrows as she looks down at her.

“Whose bed?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dirty Diamond,” Lawrence shoots back without missing a beat, and as the first lines of the song fill the room she leans back and begins to spin the pair of them in a circle, both of them laughing as if everything is as simple as just that room, and the music blaring out from the speakers, and the lights flashing above them drenching them in purple and pink.

[alexandenigtscreations]

Summary:

Jon, weak from his encounter with Peter Lucas and Martin struggling to throw off the haze of the Lonely support each other as they make preparations for Scotland.

Jon had nearly folded after they left the Lonely.  The ach at his core threatened to steal all the strength from his limbs.  He doubled over, holding his stomach willing, begging his body not to give out-not when Martin could see, not when he was actually here.

“J-Jon?” 

  He’d made Martin worry- damn it!  Not a minute out of the Lonely and Jon is already causing trouble.  This was not what he wanted.  

“M-m fine-” he managed, though he was decidedly not fine, he was shaking and a cold sweat dampened his face.  It was as though his insides were being carved out with a pumpkin scoop.  “Really-I-I just need a moment.”  He sagged to the uneven floor of the tunnels and Martin joined him, pressing close.  It was closer than anyone had been to him in a long time.

Jon wanted to lean in, rest his head on his shoulder, or wrap his arms around him.  But there was no way of knowing how Martin would react- ‘I really loved you, you know’.  The words he’d said on that distant shore came swimming back.  Jon hadn’t fully realized the implications of them then, not when he’d been so focused on retrieving Martin.  

They had a new weight to them now.  

“I-I wish I would have known sooner-” fatigue threaded through his voice “how you feel or-or felt, I mean.” He chuffed a sad little laugh “I’ve never been particularly good- with these sorts of things.” Their fingers were still intertwined, resting lightly on Martin’s thigh.  He found he didn’t want to let go yet.  Perhaps  it was selfish, childish even, but if he could hold on a bit longer- to keep hold as long as he was allowed.  

Martin hummed absently “I think it’s still feel actually.”

Jon froze, the simple sentence eliciting a flood of emotions he didn’t realize he could experience when he was this spent.  “W-wait, you still-”

“Never really stopped.” The words delivered in a slow matter of fact fashion.  

Relief crashed into Jon.  He lifted Martin’s knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss to them.  His hand was cold, concernedly so.  Looking  up, Jon could see wisps of fog escaping from him.  Now that he thought about it, his voice still echoed with the Lonely, oddly detached.  The tunnels weren’t helping him warm up either.  

“Ho-how are you?” Jon asked.  

Martin seemed to retreat further into himself, becoming even harder to read. “N-not sure” he said at long last, “Everything’s- hazzy still?”  His hand was limp and cold in Jon’s own.

“That’s alright.” he said softly, and Knew it to be true.  So long as the Lonely didn’t take hold again, the Eye supplied ominously.  Another wave of hunger made him curl his knees to his chest.  Anger and frustration flared in him.  He’d been doing so well!  Then Lucas had to get stubborn and chose to literally die rather than tell him what the hell was going on!  Beholding hadn’t seemed to be pleased with the loss of a meal- and Jon was hurting because of it. 

How hard was it to say a few damned words?  To share a few thoughts?

“You seem- uncomfortable.” Martin stated.  He’d gotten more direct since his time with Lucas.

Jon gave his hand a light squeeze.

“Nothing that a bit of sleep won't cure.”  They’d been resting for a while now.  Well, a kind of rest, though Jon felt as though he’d been on a veritable rollercoaster.  Still, they were pushing their luck so close to the institute.  Between the Not!Them?, Daisy, the hunters and the cops, Jon figured it was well past time to shove off.  “It’s too risky, leaving through the institute, we’ll need to use another exit.”

Guilt twisted his insides at the idea of letting the others deal with the mess, but there was little good he could do in the state he was in.  And Martin- Martin needed to get away from all of this.  They both did.  The only question was where.

Unbidden, the knowledge of Daisy’s safe house came to mind, the possible routes making themselves Known.  

The Knowing made him sick, he faltered, pressing his hand into his stomach once more, feeling the pounding in his skull grow.  

“You look like hell Jon.” Martin commented in the same detached tone.  

For his part, Jon grunted an affirmation, hoping that the eye would let up just a bit, enough to get out of London at least, enough to bring Martin back properly. 

 They hit Martin’s flat first.  Jon coaxing him to pack while perched on the edge of the bed, hunched over.  Sharp elbows on knobby knees.  It wasn’t the first time Jon had visited, but the difference was stark.  Before, it had been homy, though, sparsely furnished.  A few knits on backs of overstuffed chairs, the smell of bergamot from the tea Martin was fond of, a few house plants, candles and warm lamps scattered about.  Now, the comfort of the place had fled leaving the chill of the Lonely.  

Jon hated that it was here, hated how it had nearly claimed Martin.  So much had happened while he was...incapacitated.  Turning into one of the very eldritch horrors they took statements on.  Sustained by fear and despair- there was another stab of hunger- well, sustained in theory at any rate.  Instead of being able to help his assistance, they’d been forced to manage him as well as fend off the attacks on the archives.

“Done.” said Martin at long last, jaring Jon out of his musings.  He cursed inwardly, he’d meant to keep an eye on him.  They didn’t have time for zoning out.  

“Aren't-aren't you taking your poetry journal?”  Beholding told him Martin hadn’t packed it.  When he’d lived at the archives, he’d rairly been seen without one.  Filling dozens of the things.  

The man frowned “Haven’t been writing much these days.” 

“O-oh, right.” said Jon.  “Just- we’re headed towards a pretty rustic area, there may not be a lot to do.” 

Martin considered this for a moment before crossing to the small bedside table and pulled out a few books.  “Then maybe I’ll have time for a few of these.” he said, tossing the books over, a collection of short stories, a heavily read copy of The Hobbit, and a few poetry books.  “Been meaning to get to them, just- didn’t seem like there was much of a point really-”  The last book in the stack caught his eye, a leather bound journal.  He took a moment to flip through.  “Hugh,” a ghost of a smile “it’s almost full-” 

Jon made a note to pick one up at the station.

“Ohh-” Martin’s eyes lit up to their original honey brown “I know what we need!” and he retreated into the main room, coming back with a small, classic radio with dial knobs.  

Jon snorted “Lo-Fi charm?” 

“Yep!” he beamed.  “My next door neighbor gave it to me growing up.  Used to mind me when my mum went out.  They used to pick up pirate radio on this bad boy back in the day.  Though my mum never liked it much- She-” he faltered, frowning slightly, his eyes clouding once more.  The Lonely was back.  

Jon sighed, squashing the rising disappointment.  For a moment it looked as though Martin was snapping out of it, but then- his mother?  Yet another thing that had happened while he was in god damned coma.  He wasn’t sure what happened between the two, but it seemed complicated.

What do you really know about each other?  Jon watched Martin struggle to fit the new items into his bag before sliding down next to him with a “I think this is going to need a repacking.”  Martin huffed out an agreement.  

In truth, he didn’t know much about Martin.  He liked tea and poetry, enjoyed the Lo-Fi aesthetic, made people feel noticed in small, meaningful ways Jon never understood, was a fast learner, he hated peaches, tended towards passive aggressive, could be every bit as brutally honest as Jon (when provoked) and that he was the one person Jon wanted by his side more than anything else.  

The Eye slipped in through the gaps of his curiosity, feeding him more information.  Like how the friendly neighbor had been one of the few adults to take a genuine interest in Martin.  They’d bake pastries on occasion (often inedible) and they taught Martin how to cheat at cards, which he had excelled at.  Even when Martin moved away, they’d kept in touch until they died-and Lord, Stop!  This was not how he wanted to learn about Martin! 

Pain tore through Jon’s insides, head splitting, the Eye demanding payment for information he had no right to Know.  He doubled over, holding himself together as best he could begging it to stop.  Just Stop!

There was a hand over his shoulder, icey but soft.  It was grounding and Jon curled into it.  It was a long while before Jon unfurled, his head had been pillowed on Martin’s leg.  He’d been stroking his hair and murmuring softly.  His cool touch was wondrous on his pounding headache.  

“Are you alright?” Martin asked, he was barely focused on Jon now, fog closing in.

“Yes- I- yes” his voice was a horse whisper.  

Martin hummed in a way that made it plain he didn’t believe him. 

“J-just the encounter with Lucas-took more out of me than I thought it would-”  it was the truth, most of it, at least.  It still didn’t change the fact that the flat wreaked of the Lonely.  The mist swirling around concerned him “Martin-you... with me?”  Normally Jon could ignore the Lonely.  It….complimented, Beholding.  But not now, not after what it had tried to do to Martin.

Jon reached up gently cupped his cheek, running a thumb over the freckles dashed crossed his face.  

Martin sighed and nodded, holding Jon’s hand lightly.  “Always.” and some of the haze lifted. 

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [19]

vi. fog of war

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Death, blood, violence, fighting, language, Shumway is an asshole. 

Summary: A plan to knock out Mount Weather’s communication includes a detour for you and the Blake siblings, which results in a shocking discovery. 

a/n: hi, hello, today has been a rollercoaster of emotions so I am feeling v stressed out. but that doesn’t matter lmao. anyways here is the next chapter!!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Two days pass after Finn’s massacre, largely uneventful, marked only by periods of planning to invade Mount Weather, and tension between Finn and everyone else. 

You’re currently walking towards Bellamy’s tent, situated on the opposite end of the camp from yours and Clarke’s, when you see him.

Shumway.

You make eye contact and he starts to walk towards you, and you turn and duck between a row of buildings, bobbing and weaving between them, hoping that he doesn’t find you. A voice drifts between the buildings, sinister enough to make your skin crawl. “La lune, where are you hiding?”

You start to run faster, maneuvering through the camp until you burst out on the other side, near the group of tents. You run towards Bellamy’s, not stopping until you burst inside, unannounced. 

He looks up at you in surprise, his pants held in his hands, and his body uncovered except for his gray boxers. You quickly cover your eyes and mutter, “Sorry I saw Shumway and-”

He laughs, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

His voice is closer when he answers, right in front of you. “Cover your eyes.”

His fingers close around your wrist and lower your hand, and your eyes open to his bare chest. His pants are now pulled up and secured, and you look up to meet his eyes. His hands lift to your cheeks, holding you in place as he dips his head, his lips meeting yours.

You lose yourself in the kiss instantly, forgetting Shumway, forgetting why you were looking for him, focusing only on the way his lips feel against yours. How his curls tickle your face, and how his hands are now roaming over your body. They have just reached your butt, giving you a light squeeze, when you hear both your names called from outside his tent. You pull away, breathless, and a second later Clarke steps inside, instantly eyeing you both suspiciously. “Are you coming or what?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” And then she exits without another word, already making a beeline for the bar, leaving you to grab Bellamy and follow. 

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“I was supposed to come get you for a meeting.” You blush when you remember his distraction. “She thinks she finally got the map right.”

“Oh. Good.”

When you reach the table, Clarke is already sitting, map open and spread out, three drinks already waiting. You and Bellamy sit, and she launches into her explanation. 

“It's a Labyrinth. We got to the dam through this tunnel,” She uses her pencil to point it out. “It's all connected to the mine system. That’s our way in.”

You give her a skeptical look. “Sure, if we can get past the Reapers and the Mountain Men.”

Bellamy sighs and leans back in his chair, looking between you and Clarke. “I swear to God, if your mom doesn't sanction the mission soon, I'm going by myself.”

You and Clarke answer in unison, “You won't be by yourself.”

Bellamy pulls a face, weirded out by the synchronization, and you and your twin let out a laugh. Her laughter dies out quickly and you turn to her to see why, finding that her eyes are locked at something over Bellamy’s head. You follow her gaze and Bellamy does too, spotting Finn and Murphy, before you both turn back to Clarke. He attempts to sound casual when he asks, “How's Finn doing anyway?”

She shrugs. “I haven't talked to him since we got back. I don't know what to say.” Her gaze drops to the table, and you can tell she’s somewhere else, stuck in a memory. “He just kept shooting.”

Bellamy tries to comfort her, offering her a similar sentiment to the one he gave you previously. “We're at war, Clarke, we've all done things.”

She doesn’t say anything, and a second later the moment is lost, Finn now standing beside you. “Hey.”

Clarke avoids his eyes. “Hey.”

Bellamy looks between Finn and Clarke, before grabbing your arm and pulling you from your seat. “Next round’s on us.”

“Wait-” You start to protest, turning to look at your twin, but she nods her approval, so you let Bellamy lead you away. You watch the former couple talk as you wait in line, Clarke’s shoulders rigid with tension. When you reach the counter Bellamy hands you a cup of Monty’s stash while he grabs the other two, and you both head back to the table. You note that Finn is now gone, and Murphy is left behind in his place. 

He doesn’t last long though, because Raven reaches the table the same time you and Bellamy do, and she turns towards him. “Beat it, Murphy.”

After he walks off, her face splits into a grin as she looks between the three of you. “I know why we haven't heard from any of the other Ark stations. Mount Weather's jamming us.”

“Show us.”

She turns and quickly heads towards Engineering, and you all follow, abandoning your drinks on the table. She leads you straight to a radio, appearing to be in a state of disrepair, before she looks between you. “I tweaked the resonator and got this.” 

She turns a knob and reveals a high pitched hum, paired with a quiet clicking sound. “It's on every frequency. Long range communication is totally screwed. It's also the reason the range on our walkies sucks. It's the same signal Monty heard in the black box of the Exodus ship.”

Realization hits you. “Wait, so Mount Weather crashed the Exodus ship?”

She nods and Clarke comes around the table to get a better look at the radio. “Can you get around the signal?”

“Around it? No. But if I can get to the tower that broadcasts it, I can make it go boom.”

“No one is going anywhere.”

You all turn towards the door, watching as your mom steps inside, looking pissed. You have the distinct feeling of being caught doing something you aren’t supposed to, but you push it aside as she starts in on her lecture. “What do I have to do to get through to you? You and your friends are not soldiers, and continuing to act like you are puts lives at risk.”

You let out a huff of frustration, but Clarke steps towards her, reasoning with her. “You don't understand, Raven found something. Mount Weather is jamming our communications.”

“It's true. There could be other Ark stations on the ground.”

Major Byrne cuts in, ignoring the good news. “The Grounder retaliation for the massacre could happen at any time, and when it does, we need every available man to defend this camp.”

You turn and snap at her, “So let us go!”

“Neither of you are gonna stop, are you?”

You and Clarke deadpan, “No.” And she adds, “Not until our friends are safe.”

Your mom sighs, “Okay. But I'm coming with you.”

“Then it's settled, we're going back to Mount Weather.”

-

Later that night, after the team has been chosen and briefed, Clarke approaches you once you’re alone in your shared tent. “I need you to do something tomorrow. You, Bellamy, and Octavia.”

“What is it?”

“You need to look for a way into Mount Weather.” She pulls a map out of her pocket and hands it to you. “Mom seems hellbent on keeping us locked up or keeping an eye on us, and this might be our only chance to find one.”

“Okay, so what’s the plan?”

She points at the map, drawing your eyes to a forked path. “We’re supposed to go down this path tomorrow, bringing us opposite of the mountain. But this path takes you towards the mountain. When we get close, I’ll distract mom, and you three can sneak off and go that way. You already know all the rendezvous points, so if you find anything or if something goes wrong, you can meet back up with us and let us know.”

You nod and fold the map up, putting it in your pocket. “I better go tell Bellamy.”

“Don’t let anyone see you. We already know that Byrne is one of mom’s spies, but who knows who else is. If she gets suspicious at all, she might call the whole thing off.”

“You’re right.” You head over to your bed and grab a small blanket off the top, draping it over your shoulders and around your head, shielding your face from view. When you turn to Clarke, she gives a nod in approval, and you slip out of the tent and into the cool night air. 

You slink through the camp, avoiding the busy areas and sticking to the shadows. You make it to Bellamy’s tent without being seen, and you call out his name before entering, giving him fair warning this time instead of barging in. He’s already in bed when you slip inside, and he sits up as you pull the blanket back from your face, revealing yourself to him. “I’m sorry, were you asleep?”

“No, just laying here. I have a hard time sleeping these days.”

He swings his legs out of his bed, making room for you to sit down beside him. “I do too. I think I’m missing the stars.” Or maybe it’s the guilt.

You look to the roof of the tent, opaque, just like all the others, keeping the view of the sky hidden from you. Bellamy hums in response, before asking, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

You pull the map out of your pocket, and start to explain the plan. “Clarke wants us to look for a way into Mount Weather tomorrow. You, me, and Octavia. She’ll keep mom distracted so we can slip away and search without a chaperone breathing down our necks.”

“I’ve noticed we’ve had more eyes on us lately.”

“Mom is worried about us leaving again. I get it, I guess, but I don’t like having babysitters that report my every move to her.”

He nods towards your disguise, “That explains the blanket.”

“She’s got spies everywhere. I swear I can’t breathe without one of them telling her about it. And she shows up almost anytime me and Clarke are talking together, instantly suspicious.”

He laughs, “I mean, we are planning a rogue mission as we speak.”

“I didn’t say it was an unwarranted suspicion.”

You both laugh, and when it dies down, you fold up the map and stand to leave. Bellamy reaches out and grabs your hand. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my tent. We both need rest for tomorrow.”

“You can stay, if you want.” 

Your brows lift in surprise, but you consider his offer. “Are you a blanket hog?”

“No. Never.”

You smile, unable to resist your amusement at the serious way he answered your question. His face splits into a grin and he swings his feet back up into the bed and scoots over, pulling back the covers and inviting you in. You don’t know if it’s the cups of Monty’s stash that you drank, or just a desire to be near him, but you lower yourself into his bed, kicking off your shoes before lifting your feet off the ground and sliding beneath the covers. He pulls them up to your chin and you lay stiff beside him, unsure on what the rules are. But then he scoots closer to you slowly, giving you time to protest. And when you don’t, he tugs you closer, wrapping his arm around you and guiding your head onto his chest. 

Once you get comfortable and settle into his warmth, you feel the haze of sleep start to whirl around you, which surprises you. Sleep never greets you quickly, but you welcome it, allowing your lids to drop closed and your brain to slip into a swirl of dreams. 

-

You wake the next morning, warm, happy, and wrapped up in a pile of blankets. When you turn to look beside you, you see that Bellamy is missing. You turn towards the rest of the tent and find him slipping his boots on in the center of the small space. He smiles when he sees you. “I was just about to wake you up. We’re leaving soon.”

You nod and reluctantly slip out of the covers, stretching and fighting off the sleepy haze. Bellamy watches you for a second before reaching down to grab his knife and strap, securing it around his thigh. “You’re a blanket hog, by the way.”

“What?”

“You took all the blankets last night. I had to wrestle them back from you.”

“I did not!”

He laughs and nods his head, his messy morning curls bouncing. “Yes you did.”

You tug your shoes on and glare at him. “I probably had to steal them from you first.”

“Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes and pat your pocket, checking for the map, before standing and heading for the door. You ignore his earlier accusation. “You ready?”

“After you.” He pauses and you step out of the tent, and then he whispers, “Blanket hog.”

You turn and punch him lightly when he steps out, both of you laughing. “Shut up!”

Both of your laughter dies in your throat when a voice cuts through the early morning air. “Well, isn’t this sweet.”

You cut a glare at Shumway, and open your mouth to say something, but Bellamy grabs your hand and pulls you away, stopping you. “Keep going.”

As you put distance between you and Shumway, he calls out to your retreating figure, “You got a deal with her too, Bellamy?”

The words stop you both dead in your tracks, and you feel Bellamy tense up beside you. You resist the urge to scream at Shumway, kick him, push him into the electric fence. Instead, you take a deep breath, remember the stars, your father, and saving the 47 before continuing to walk, pulling Bellamy with you. 

You reach the front gate and meet up with the others, the last of the group to arrive. Your mom stares at your approach, and her eyes drop down to your hand, still held in Bellamy’s, and you release it, feeling guilty for some reason. Her eyes shift to the rest of the group, “Alright, let’s head out.”

Everyone follows her from the camp as she takes the lead, map in hand, gun tucked into her pants. Octavia and Clarke hang back and wait for you and Bellamy, and Octavia hands Bellamy his pack while Clarke hands you yours. She whispers, “Did you tell him?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ll reach it about mid day. Be ready.”

You nod in confirmation and she jogs ahead, rejoining your mother, leaving you behind with the Blake siblings. Bellamy quickly explains the plan to Octavia, who agrees as soon as he mentions the idea.

When the sun stands tall above you, nearing noon, Clarke turns back to look at you and you know it’s time. You motion to the siblings and they spread out, looking up in the trees and pausing to survey the area. Bellamy yells out, “Don't forget to look up, because the Grounders use the trees. That's how we lost John Mbege.”

You watch as space grows between you three and the rest of the group, everyone too busy watching the trees to notice three teenagers dropping away. When the group starts to disappear around the bend in the path, still oblivious, you all take off running down the other path, heading down towards the mountain. 

You don’t stop running for a while, trying to put as much space as possible between you and the others, but you finally slow to a walk when you’ve made it far enough down the path. You pull out the map and hand it to Bellamy, who unfolds it and looks it over before glancing at the area around you. “Before the bombs, there were buildings everywhere. I'm guessing some of them had access to the bunker.”

He pushes on, turning to glance at you and Octavia. “So we're looking for ruins. Anything that's man made, okay?”

You and Octavia nod the same time a voice cuts through the woods. “Griffin! Blake! Let's go right now!”

You all freeze in place before turning around slowly. You meet Sergeant Scott’s eyes and shrug. “In case you've forgotten, we're not under your command.”

“Don't make us do this the hard way.”

Bellamy steps closer to the man, “Come on Scott, 47 of our people are prisoners in this mountain!”

“That's why we're out here.”

You cock your head to the side, and correct him. “Wrong. You're out here to find other stations of the Ark. We're out here to find our friends.”

Beside you, Octavia glances down at her feet and whispers, “Bell.”

You both turn and look at her in confusion, but her gaze is still locked on the ground. You both follow it and realize that all around you, mice and insects are scurrying away, running in the direction you were originally walking in. Scott asks, “What are they doing?”

Bellamy’s voice is confused, but he replies, “Running.”

You hear a pop of thunder behind you, so you turn, and your eyes land on an ominous yellow cloud, crackling with electricity. You point towards it. “Acid fog! We need cover now!”

“Deploy your tents, go!”

The guards pull off their packs and start digging around, looking for their tents. Octavia ignores the command and runs off, following the rats, and you and Bellamy instantly turn to follow her. “O! O! Get back here!”

She comes to a stop around a bend in the path, lifting up shrubbery, and revealing a small crack in between two pieces of metal. “Bell, there's something in here! Maybe there's some ruins.”

Bellamy turns and yells at the others, “Hey! Hey! Over here!”

You all start frantically tearing the vines and bushes away, searching for a door handle. When you find it, Bellamy and Scott grab it and tug, as the acid fog closes in on you. You and Ocatvia start yelling, “Hurry up!”

They finally pry it open and Bellamy pushes you and Octavia inside, followed by Scott. He turns to yell at the other guards, “Hurry, get inside!”

One guard immediately spins and runs towards you, joining you inside. But the other fumbles with his tent for a second longer before deciding to run, sealing his fate as the acid fog rolls over him seconds later, killing him. Scott tries to run back outside and grab his guard, but Bellamy pulls him back inside and closes the door. 

With the door closed, you are all plunged into darkness. You can hear fumbling for a second before everyone pulls out their flashlights and switches them on, bringing in enough light to see each other and some of the area around you. The guards step deeper into the space first, guns raised, and you, Bellamy, and Octavia follow. 

You draw closer to the siblings, feeling uneasy as your flashlight bounces over abandoned vehicles and dark corners. Nearby you can hear the rats squeaking and other unusual sounds, and you try to ignore it, focusing only on what’s in front of you. Scott swings his gun and light around, searching, before muttering, “Where are we?”

You shake your head, “It looks like a garage.”

“More like a tomb,” Octavia corrects you. You find yourself nodding in agreement. 

She pulls Lincoln’s sword out, armed up, and you pull out the only weapon you have on you: the Grounder knife. You and the siblings share a look before Bellamy turns to Scott. “Look, I'm sorry about your man, but we need to find an access door to Mount Weather.”

Bellamy doesn’t wait for a response and is already turning away when Scott stops him. “Hey, not so fast.”

“Sir, that fog will keep us pinned down for another-”

Bellamy cuts himself off when he sees the reason for Scott’s protest, a pistol, now offered out to Bellamy for protection. Bellamy takes it and Scott grabs and takes the pistol off his guard, handing it to you. You take it with a nod of thanks as he adds, “We'll split up, meet back here in fifteen. Be safe.”

You break apart, you and the siblings traveling forward, while the two guards veer off to the left. You move through the garage slowly, your flashlight only lighting up small sections of the space at a time, leaving dark corners largely unexplored. You hear Bellamy make a sound of surprise beside you before he breaks into a jog, and you and Octavia share a confused look before taking off after him. 

He pulls to a stop at a door, and you all exchange an excited smile as he reaches for it, only to freeze in place when a scream echoes through the dark garage. You all immediately turn away from the door, guns lifted and sword out as you start walking back into the pressing darkness of the garage. You can now hear music playing nearby, pretty and melodic and you creep towards it, searching for the source. Bellamy stops and ducks behind a car, pulling you and Octavia behind it and calling out, “Scott? Are you there?”

When no answer comes, he motions for you to start moving again, spread out into a line, creeping along. Your flashlight finally lands on a small wind up radio, abandoned on the ground next to one of the guard’s rifles. Bellamy bends to pick it up, shouldering it, as the sound of rustling reaches your ears. Octavia whispers, “Bell, what was that?”

He swings his gun to the right, illuminating two bodies bent over a third. When they turn towards you, you can see blood dripping from their mouths, and over their clothes. Bellamy fires a few shots, killing them both. “Reapers.”

A shudder passes through you and you hold your light in the direction of the third body, spotting the guard whose name you didn’t know. Bellamy passes his pistol to Octavia and whispers, “Take this.”

She complies, and you all start creeping forward again, now more cautious than before. Your flashlight lands on another body, and it only takes a second for you to identify Sergeant Scott, silent and unoving. Bellamy turns his flashlight to join yours, and it illuminates a third Reaper. He lifts his gun, ready to kill him too, when Octavia reaches out and grabs his arm. “Don't. It's Lincoln!”

When the Reaper’s face lifts, blood is pouring from his mouth, courtesy of whatever body part he was chewing on. Lincoln stands and starts to step towards you, and Octavia tries to reason with him. “Lincoln. Lincoln, it's me! It's Octavia!”

He looks right at her, not recognizing her and charges, lifting her and tossing her to the side. “Don’t kill him!”

Lincoln spins on you and Bellamy, guns both raised, unsure what to do if you can’t kill him. You both start to back up, keeping your distance, and just as he starts to charge at you, a shot rings out. Lincoln drops down and grabs his leg, grunting, and Bellamy rushes forward and knocks him out with the butt of the rifle. You step around him, tentative, and grab Octavia, pulling her away from him. Bellamy reaches out for your hand and you take it, forming a human chain. “We need to get somewhere safe!”

He pulls you through the garage, stopping when he finds a car with dark, tinted windows. He checks the door to the backseat and it pops open, so he slides inside, pulling you in behind him. Octavia slides in behind you, sandwiching you between them, and pulls the door closed softly. You all sit inside, panting and struggling to catch your breath, wondering how to get out of the garage alive. Octavia looks back at you, face fixed in disbelief. “He's a Reaper. How is it even possible? He just looked right through me.”

You hear metal clang nearby and your head snaps up, listening. Bellamy must hear it too, because he whispers, “Shh.”

“How-”

You clap a hand over her mouth, cutting her off, before lifting your finger to point out the window. Lincoln is standing right outside the door, blood dripping from his mouth, face twitching. You whisper back to Bellamy, so quiet he barely hears it, “Can he see us?”

His breath rushes past your ear, his response carried within it. “I don’t know.”

Lincoln stands at the window for a long minute, just staring, before smacking the window and smearing blood across the glass. And then he turns away, leaving you alone again. You drop your hand from Octavia’s mouth, and she turns to Bellamy, mouth already open to say something, but he beats her to it. “Shh, just listen to me. We'll get him back, I promise.”

“How?”

He thinks for a long minute. “We need to knock him out long enough to get him out of here.”

“Scott has a shock baton.”

He turns to you, eyes lighting up. “If we can get the shock baton, we can hit him with it until it knocks him out.” He glances at his little sister, “You’ll need to distract him long enough for us to shock him.”

“Okay.”

His eyes are on you again. “You head to Scott and get the baton. I’ll stand in between the two of you, watching both your backs. Then you give the baton to me and I'll take him down.”

“Okay.”

He takes a breath and then pulls open the car door, helping you and Octavia out. He looks between you both, now hesitant. “You sure you're ready for this?”

When you both nod, he starts to creep forward, leading you around the corner and back to the two dead guards. He swings his light towards them before whispering to Octavia. “Stay here. I’m gonna follow her halfway.”

You both start walking again, heading closer to the bodies, and when you’re halfway between Scott and Octavia, Bellamy stops and takes up his post. You take in a breath of courage before continuing on, now alone, light trained on Scott’s side and the baton that is situated there. You reach him and drop to your knees beside him, struggling to wrestle it free from his belt. When you finally get it, you lift it in the air, high enough that Bellamy can see your success.  

You hear him say your name a split second before a hand closes around your wrist, and you let out a scream, looking up and making eye contact with Reaper Lincoln. Fear freezes every muscle in your body as he pulls you to your feet and then flings you, sending you flying into a car. You feel the baton roll out of your grip when you hit the front of the car, and you land on the ground with a groan. You hear Octavia yelling in the distance, calling to her boyfriend, and you shake off the pain and scramble to your feet. You pick up the fallen baton and take off running towards the siblings, yelling at Bellamy as your approach, “Catch!”

You toss the baton and he catches it with ease, pushing the button and lighting it up, uttering a quiet apology before he presses the baton to the Reaper’s neck and holds it there, shocking him until he drops to the ground, unconscious. You jog up as he lands with a thud, and you all look down at him, panting form exertion. Octavia eyes him. “Now what?”

“Now we take him home.”

You turn towards Bellamy, already shaking your head. “We can’t take him back to Camp Jaha.”

His eyes meet yours, and he shakes his head. “Our real home.”

You think of the Delinquent Camp, full of tents, home of the dropship, and smile. Home. 

-

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