#they have each other and at this point that’s more than enough really that’s way too much to expect

[very-merry-birthday]

🍓 Arguments 🍓

Summary: You and Dean argue- a lot. Four stories of your arguments, and what they do to Dean.

Warnings: Smut, angry sex (sorta)

A/N: Significantly longer than most of my strawberry stories but no more thought through.

🍓 Stakeout

The first time you and Dean argued, really argued, it was during a hunt. You never really got on, constant bickering, petty fights. You thought he was confrontational, he thought you were an unnecessary complication, both of you respected each other but neither of you liked each other.

But on this hot southern day, the sun beating down on you both, tensions were already high. Your shirt stuck to you, glued down with sweat, your shorts doing nothing as the thick air clung to your skin. Neither of the Winchesters' were fairing any better, Sam's hair slicked back with moisture, Dean constantly wiping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt.

You'd been waiting outside the house for signs of movement; Dean's idea, opposed to your idea to rush in first thing in the morning, before the sun could break through the clouds. You were getting more and more pissed, the heat too much to bare, all of you getting antsy as the day wore on.

You kicked a rock towards Sam, a playful smile spread across his face. He darted his eyes towards Dean, still watching the house closely, and then back to you, matching your smile. He kicked the rock back, it landing next to your foot, close enough that you only had to step slightly to reach it and return it back to him. You continued for only a few moments, the rock tumbling across the floor messily between the two of you, until Sam kicked it harder, and it went flying behind you, clattering into a nearby trashcan.

Dean whipped around, his eyes boring into you both instantly, his face hot with anger, his voice was low but full of ferocity, "What the hell happened to staying quiet?!"

"There's no point staying quiet when you're staking out an empty house." You quipped back, trying to make Sam smile but instantly knowing he wouldn't be your lifeline here.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean's voice got louder as he approached you, "Do you ever listen?!"

"Do you!? We'd have been outta here hours ago if you'd have just gone with my plan!"

"You stuck-up bitch! Can you follow orders for once in your life?!" His face was inches from yours now, fists balling at his sides. To anyone else he'd be intimidating, but you'd faced far worse.

"Fuck you, Winchester!" You shoved his shoulder hard to stop him from stepping any closer.

Before any blows could be exchanged between you, Sam came up from behind his brother, standing between you both with his arms outstretched. You watched as Dean's jaw tightened, holding back whatever venom he wanted to throw, his hand flexing next to him. Sam looked at him and then back to you, "Just walk away."

You did as he said, anger emanating through you, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you turned away.

-

You didn't see Dean's eyes, wandering down your body as he watched you walk away. He didn't mean to, but before he realized what he was doing, his gaze was firmly fixed on your ass, covered only in your small shorts. He instantly felt a tightening in his pants at the sight, the anger winded out of him as arousal took over. He shook his head, stepping back from Sam, trying to clear the picture from his mind.

🍓 Broken Glass

You'd been civil since then, as civil as you could be, both of you keeping out of each other's way, barely speaking. Of course, that could only last for a few weeks.

You stood in the bunker's kitchen, cleaning a glass from the night before. Your head still throbbed from the alcohol, you and Sam getting drunk into the early hours while Dean was hidden away in his room. While it was fun in the moment, you were now regretting it as your hangover weighed over you, keeping you sluggish and in pain.

You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and jumped reflexively, the glass going flying as you reached for your gun nearby. The glass landed on the floor, shattering into a thousand glistening pieces. You finally looked up properly to see Dean stood in the doorway, looking between you and the glass, his face instantly filled with annoyance.

"Fucking hell-" he began to speak but you cut him off with a firm stare.

"I don't need the lecture, Winchester, it's a glass it's not going to kill you." You bent down to start picking the larger pieces off of the floor.

"This is exactly why you shouldn't be going on hunts, if you're clumsy enough to break a glass-"

"I'm not clumsy, asshole, I'm hungover, so I don't need whatever this is!" Your headache hit again, clouding up your mind.

"We don't need some hungover chick destroying our bunker!"

"Oh it's your bunker now?! Fuck you." You reached over to pick up a smaller piece. As your finger grazed the glass you felt it cut through you, a small sting arising. You stood up, a drop of blood forming on the end of your finger. You instinctively stuck it in your mouth, trying to wipe it away before it got worse.

Dean looked you over once before walking away again, exasperated.

-

That night Dean laid in bed, his phone propped up in one hand, his cock in the other, lazily stroking himself as he flicked through porn. He felt his orgasm rising, a tightening in his abdomen he was desperate to release. He watched the actress on his screen, the way her tits bounced as she moved, trying to focus on that to push himself to completion. He shut his eyes for a moment, and that's when your image filled his mind. One second you were crouched over on the kitchen floor, looking up at him with big eyes. Then your finger was in your mouth, sucking slowly, your eyes locked onto his. Then it was your ass in those shorts only weeks before, the image he'd been trying to get out of his head ever since.

He came hard and fast, thoughts of you filling his mind, unable to picture anything else. He felt his cum spilling out over his hand as he continued to fight the images, your body, your face.

His stroking slowed and his mind began to clear, the sound of moaning from his phone bringing him back to reality. For a moment he felt annoyed he'd wasted his orgasm on you, then a pang of guilt, but as he looked down at himself, his abdomen now covered in his own cum, he realized he hadn't come that hard in months.

🍓 Laptop

All day Dean had been angrier than normal, not talking to you, avoiding being in the same room as you. But you'd still catch him staring at you, his eyes fixed, lost in thought.

You sat down next to Sam at the table, opening your laptop to show him the research you'd been working on. Your screen flickered and then went black. While it had been broken for weeks you'd hoped you could keep it going for just a bit longer, but as the two of you looked at it now, an empty screen, you knew it was finally done.

"Just use Dean's." Sam shrugged, pointing to his laptop on the other side of the room.

"I'm not sure..." you trailed off, your face hesitant.

"Hey, he's not here, and you're working anyway, what can he do?"

So you sat, typing away on Dean's laptop, occasionally showing the screen to Sam, both of you lost in research. Hours went by before Dean came in the room, and you immediately tensed up as he looked down at you.

"Is that... my laptop?"

You rolled your eyes, "Mine's broken."

"So you just thought you'd use mine without even asking?"

Sam spoke up, "It was my idea."

"I don't care who's idea it was, she's the one who's using it."

"I'm doing research, Dean, it's not like I'm watching porn- which is all you use it for anyway!"

His eyes glanced over your body, only momentarily, so quickly you barely noticed it. You didn't care anyway, too angry to realize they were now firmly fixed not on your eyes, but on your lips.

"You should ask before using my shit." His jaw tightened.

"What, ask permission from daddy?" You rolled your eyes again and turned back towards the laptop. Dean walked away without another word.

-

He barreled into his room, undoing the fly of his pants in the process to relieve the throbbing erection he now had. He lay on his bed, pulling out his cock in one swift move and starting to stroke it.

He thought of you. He didn't even try to stop himself. He thought of your ass, your tits, your body. He thought of your face, your lips. He pictured them wrapped around his cock as he thrust into your mouth. He thought of bending you over, pushing into your tight pussy. He thought of making you moan, making you gasp, making you beg.

He came hard, a grunt escaping his lips, only you on his mind.

🍓 Keys

You pulled on your jeans, giving yourself another look in the mirror before leaving the room, desperate to be out of the bunker. Sam had been gone for three long days, and you hadn't spoken to anyone that whole time. Dean kept himself in his room, only coming out when you were in your own. It was awkward and tense between the two of you. You didn't know why- it always felt odd when it was just you but this was extreme.

You'd almost made it to the front of the bunker before you'd remembered Sam had taken your car. You sighed, exasperated. Making your way to Dean's room you formulated a plan in your head, you didn't want to have to explain to him why you needed his car, but you knew you'd have to eventually.

You knocked hard, hearing movement on the other side immediately. Dean opened the door, staring you down without a word.

"I need your keys." You kept your request short.

"And why's that?" He smiled slightly, he liked seeing you on the back foot.

"Sam took my car when he left, and I need to go out so..."

"And where are you going?"

You smirked, "How is that any of your business?"

"My car, my business." He stepped closer to you, towering over you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. There was no question he was eyeing your body over. You tensed your jaw, not used to the intrusiveness.

"There's this guy I know who's only in the state for one night, I'm meeting him at a motel."

Something flashed behind his eyes. Jealousy? Surely not. But you couldn't understand what the look meant. His hand flexed next to him.

"So you're taking my car to go get fucked by some other guy?"

You and Dean didn't like each other, sure, but this kind of confrontation wasn't normal.

You lowered your voice, looking away from him, "That's really none of your business."

"He any good?" He stepped forward out of the doorway, his body only inches from yours.

"What's your problem?!" You looked back up at him, locking eyes, your jaw tightening, anger rising.

In a second he stepped forward, grabbing your jaw between his fingers, his lips crashing into yours. You waited for a second, frozen, before your hands came up to his chest, pushing him back forcefully. Both of you separated, staring each other down, panting hard.

You looked him over. He was undeniably handsome, his muscles visible even through his shirt, his tight jaw flexing. You didn't know his game, but right now, you didn't care.

You both pushed into each other again, your lips colliding, forceful, heated. His hands were on your body in seconds, one wrapping around your hip, the other coming down to caress your ass. He pulled you into him, allowing himself to grip you tighter as his tongue roamed your mouth, both of you battling for composure against each other.

He pushed you against the wall, your back slamming into it hard as one hand found the back of his head and the other reached down under his shirt to his abdomen.

His hand came up again to your jaw, grabbing it tight as he broke away from the kiss. He looked down at you, hungry eyes flickering over your face, "Fuck. My bed, now."

You did as he said, both of you moving together, lips on each other, his mouth making it's way down your neck, biting down hard enough to make you yelp out a gasp. Once you were in his room you pushed him down forcefully onto the bed. He collapsed down, looking up at you, as you pulled your shirt off quickly, reaching down to the fly of your jeans. He followed your lead, no words spoken between you as he shuffled out of his own clothes.

Then you were back on top of him, both of you only in your underwear. He sat up in the bed as you straddled him, your pussy rubbing against the bulge in his boxers as you began to move your hips on top of him. His mouth came back to your neck, sucking at your skin, desperate to leave marks, as his hand came up to your bra, unhooking it easily and pulling it off of you. He palmed your breast, grabbing at it hard, fingers twisting your nipples sending harsh pleasure through you. You moaned loudly, grabbing a handful of his hair.

"Fuck, you love this!" He laughed into your neck, pinching your nipple again.

You let out another breathy gasp before pulling back to look at him, "Is that the best you can do?"

He smiled a wry smile, flipping you over underneath him in one swift movement and pinning you down with his body. He bit down again at your collarbone, and you pressed your body into his, desperate for his warmth. He lowered himself down quickly until he was by your hips, and then he slowly dragged your panties off of your legs, looking down at you naked below him and sucking in a ragged breath.

He leant down, his tongue gliding through your wetness. No teasing, he didn't want to draw this out, he just wanted you to feel how good he could be. He pushed a long finger into you as his mouth instantly found your clit, sucking on it lightly, causing your hips to rise as you wrapped your legs around his head. His tongue flicked across it and you let out another needy gasp as his fingers sped up their movements. He hooked his finger slightly, hitting your g-spot and causing another desperate moan to release from your lips. You could already feel your orgasm rising, but staved off another moan, not wanting to I give him the satisfaction.

His movements got more desperate as he lapped at your swollen clit, his head buried between your legs. He couldn't get enough of your taste, of your pussy pulsing around his fingers in pleasure as your legs began to shake around his shoulders. His hand tightened around your hip, his fingers gripping into your skin, red marks starting to form.

He sucked on your clit again and you moaned loudly, your back arching, "P-please-"

He looked up at you, a grin spread across his cheeks at your noises, "You begging already?"

You rolled your eyes but he pushed his fingers into you again and you held back another moan. "F-fuck me-"

"That a request?" His tongue darted out again to your clit.

"Yes!"

He looked up at you surprised, and eyebrow cocked, "Really?"

"For fuck's sake! Can you just hurry up and fuck me already?!"

He broke away from you as you unwrapped your legs from around your head. He stood at the foot of his bed, stroking his cock slowly in his hands as he looked down at you, "Turn over, I want to fuck you from behind."

You gawked loudly, "No chance, get on the bed."

Both of you stood staring at each other for a moment, neither of you wanting to be the first to break. But his desperation was clear as his cock twitched in his hands. He rolled his eyes, his tongue darting out as he eyed you over again, "Fine."

He did as you said, his hand wrapping around your hip as he shuffled onto the bed next to you. You straddled him for a second as he set himself onto the mattress, looking your body over.

You gripped his cock as you got into position above him, both of you desperate for pleasure, his lips parting only slightly. You sunk down onto him slowly as his cock stretched you out, your head rolling back, biting down hard on your lip to stop yourself from moaning. He watched your movements above him, a groan escaping his own lips.

He gripped your hips harder as he began to push himself into you from below, fast movements that caused you to keel over, your hands reaching down to his chest to steady yourself. You felt your orgasm beginning to rise again as he kept you upright above him, his cock slamming into your g-spot. You rolled your hips in time with him, the coil tightening in your core.

"R-rub my clit." You spoke firmly, but your desperation was clear.

He did what you said without question, his fingers pushing between your folds to tease your clit as you continued to grind on him.

You allowed yourself to moan loudly as you came, your hands gripping his chest tightly, your body doubling over. He watched as you came undone above him, searing the image into his mind, your lips parting, your tits bouncing, your pussy wrapped around his cock.

"I can't- fuck- I'm not gonna last much longer-" he managed to get out between breaths.

Your head started to clear as you continued to grind on him, "Don't cum in me-"

"Where do you want me then, sweetheart?" He tensed his jaw, staving off his orgasm.

Without a word you slipped off of him, lowering your body down until your lips were above his cock. You wrapped your lips around him, bobbing your head at the same rhythm your body had been only moments before. He looked down at you, your eyes wide staring up at him.

You felt as he came hard, his hand coming up to push your head lower as his thick cum flowed down your throat. You swallowed him down easily as he grunted loudly, his eyes fixed on you.

You rolled next to him, both of you laid on your back, panting hard. His hand came down to your body, his fingers lightly stroking over your shoulder, sending sparks through you.

Moments passed as your minds cleared, before you looked up at him again, feux innocence across your face, "So can I borrow the keys?"

[rory-multifandom-mess]

MORE EXITOR AU COINY STUFF except this has more to it; A WRITTEN PORTION because I don't feel like drawing anymore (putting it under a cut because . yeah)

Pencil hesitated. She felt embarrassed. Coiny and Pin had always been her enemies, ever since that second season, and she hadn't let go of that opinion yet. At least not about Pin.

But looking at her now, the desperation in her eyes, the way her hands clasped together in a plead, her voice shaking ever so slightly. It was pathetic, really. But- Pencil couldn't say that to her face.

She shook her head and turned away from Pin, storming off so she wouldn't have to look into her forlorn eyes.

"It-it's none of your business, Pinhead!" Pencil responded, refusing to look back.

With every step, she fell deeper and deeper into her own mind. Her thoughts were swirling like a whirlpool, thinking about her time in the EXIT, her time spent with Coiny. She'd never payed much attention to him outside of being an extension of Pin. But those years spent in the classroom- UGH. Why did she care so much? It was frustrating at best!

Her mind went back to a conversation they'd had alone. The only conversation they ever got to have alone, really. Four had just stormed out of the classroom, so angry that the room had started to shake. They had zapped Coiny three times that day, all within the same two hours. His copper body was slightly charred around the edges. His right arm fell limp, no feeling in it whatsoever.

Pencil had dragged him out of the door they entered through, slamming it behind her.

......

"What is your problem, Coiny?!" She scolded the moment the door was closed, turning to him.

"Why do you keep putting yourself in danger?!" She asked, angry- but she didn't know why. Not at the time, at least. She began to pace around, gesturing her hands wildly.

"I get it, you're chaotic, but this is too much! We keep telling you to keep your head down or you'll get hurt- Which we were RIGHT, by the way! Look at yourself, you can't move your arm!"

He did, in fact, look down at his arm, limp by his side. He looked back at her, brows furrowed and teeth gritting. Why was he angry? Did he not like being told off? Because, oh boy, did she have a lot of words for him.

"Why can't you just follow the rules for once in your life?!"

"Because then he'd have no one else to talk about!" Coiny shouted back finally. His words stabbed through her like a dagger and she froze, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her anger dissipated, as if it was sucked right out of her.

"...What?" She muttered, the air heavy.

Coiny inhaled deeply. "I annoyed him out of spite at first, but then I saw how scared he made you and the others. I pissed him off more and more so he would only focus on me and be more lenient with you guys. Yeah, it backfires at times, but- If I stopped, then there would be nothing else to protect you guys."

Pencil stared at him, questions running through her head. She'd never payed attention to him. To how he acted. She didn't care. It didn't concern her. All she cared about was how he was just an extension of Pin- but now she realized she was wrong.

"...Why?" She asked, "Hardly any of us get along with you. Why... why would you risk yourself for people who don't even like you?"

At this point, she realized she sounded more worried than she wanted to.

"Even if we don't get along," Coiny started, glancing at the ground, "we're still here. Together. We're going through this hellhole together. I think that's enough to form a strong bond with others."

Pencil stared at him.

It all started to make sense. The way he was with Pin in BFDIA made sense, sticking by her side even though they would be awful to each other sometimes. The way they made up, even after they had their falling out.

The way he'd always jump in when Four was about to discipline someone else and get their attention. She thought he was just being annoying-- but there was a purpose. A method to his madness.

Suddenly, she felt his hand wrap around hers.

"I see you as a friend, Pencil. You may hate me, but I don't hate you."

......

Those words echoed in Pencil's head for a moment, lingering in the ocean of thoughts like a boulder dropped in a calm ocean. She couldn't remember what happened after that. But those words struck her with a feeling of displacement and conflict. She wasn't sure how to feel about him to begin with-- but it was worse now. She groaned, placing her hands on her head. Great. She had a headache now.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ok thanks bye

[padmerry]

Stan’s fate in “A Better World”: a darker headcanon

To begin with this meta, I have to first point out that this is a headcanon of mine, not what I think the writers truly intended, and the “evidence” listed here is merely my reasons for thinking so, since I personally like having some canon basis for all my headcanons. I wanted to share it because I thought people would appreciate the angst potential.

And second, that this is not an invite to hate on Ford. I love fictional tragedies, myself, and, as I have pointed out in previous posts, Ford is my favorite character.

I also want to establish from the beginning that the thing that has always caught my attention in Ford’s “A Better World” description in the journal is that not once does he meet his parallel self, and on that hangs my entire analysis regarding the fate I imagine for Stan in this universe.

Ford gives us a reason why they didn’t meet: parallel!Fiddleford explains that he had been leading a portal expedition to a certain dimension, but one of the security officers ran into his parallel self and as soon as they touched hands, the entire dimension started to warp and fizz with static. Fiddleford and his team barely escaped alive!

But that’s the thing: as soon as they touched hands, only! Not as soon as they saw each other, or as soon as they were in the same room together, or as soon as they talked to each other, like you sometimes see in fanfic! No, it very much required actual skin-to-skin contact. You would think that Professor Stanford Pines, celebrated star of the scientific community, founder of the International Institute of Oddology, and our Ford, 12 PhDs (or fewer PhDs at the time) would have enough sense and self-control to... just not try and touch each other? Or, for security reasons, stand at least a few meters away from each other? If they feared an accidental touch so much, they could have talked through a glass panel or some kind of physical divide. I do believe every Ford must be a deeply curious individual, and you’re telling me that parallel!Ford, known genius, wasn’t capable of creating a way to enable himself to interview his parallel selves safely? Wouldn’t you be very curious to meet your parallel self? I think it’s more likely than not that other versions of Ford would end up pushed through the portal, so our Ford might not even have been the first Ford to visit that dimension.

But instead Fiddleford goes so far as to detain our Ford and hold him captive without even attempting to explain things first! A bit overkill, no? You could say, “but Fiddleford just didn’t want impulsive, reckless Ford to go and run to his parallel self upon seeing him for the first time!” But herein lies the crux of the matter: even after Fiddleford explains things to our Ford, even after our Ford understands he couldn’t touch his parallel self... He still doesn’t meet or talk to parallel!Ford. Wasn’t he trusted enough/allowed to do so, even then?

My Doylist explanation (which considers what led the author to choose a certain path) for that is: the writers just didn’t want the two Fords to meet and wanted to leave it ambiguous. It’s really not that deep! Sometimes, apparent inconsistencies are just plot-convenient and don’t mean anything more.

My favorite Watsonian (in-universe) headcanon for that, though, is: Fiddleford didn’t want them to meet.

Now, would Fiddleford ever lie to Ford? Yes. In fact, he already did, in our original timeline! Ford asked him to destroy the memory gun, Fiddleford apparently agreed. “He was crestfallen by my advice, but after some discussion he came to see the wisdom in it. He said that he didn’t want to risk forgetting his wife and son. I ordered him to destroy the gun, and he did.” (“Ordered”... Oh, Ford, never change...) Reality: Fiddleford hadn’t destroyed it at all, and in fact used it on Ford to erase his memories without Ford’s consent or knowledge.

So even though I don’t think this was, necessarily, either Alex’s or Rob Renzetti’s intentions, I like to think parallel!Fiddleford was bullshitting our Ford a bit. To what extent, I don’t know. The thing about the parallel selves touching and causing a dimension to end might very well be true (in fact, according to Alex’s Word of God, it is! he has said on Twitter that parallel selves really can’t meet in their home dimensions, but can meet in the in-between spaces!) BUT because of the reasons I explained above, it’s my headcanon that it wasn’t the main reason why Fiddleford didn’t want the two Fords meeting.

I just love, love the vibes of A Better World. I love how utterly smitten with that world our Ford is. He describes himself as “drawn” towards the Institute “like a moth to a flame,” and mentions his desire to “revel in [his] parallel self’s success.” He’s utterly smitten it with it despite never once meeting his parallel self. He imagines his parallel self as the happiest man on Earth despite never once meeting his parallel self. He leaves that dimension sighing wistfully despite never once meeting his parallel self. I love how parallel!Ford is just... shrouded in this very ambiguous mystery. It all sounds a little bit ominous to me. Is he happy? Is he satisfied? Does he like what he accomplished?

Our Ford, of course, imagines that he is. Our Ford doesn’t seem to wonder about parallel!Stan, at least as far as we know. If he did, he didn’t write it down, and Stan certainly wasn’t the focus of that journal entry, because that’s who Stanford Pines is: self-centered as all hell, hahah. He has many qualities, but that in particular in one of his biggest flaws. His brother doesn’t even cross his mind, since he’s dazzled by his apparent great success and the fulfillment of his dreams. I think he subconsciously assumed parallel!Stan must have been fine, or else he would certainly have been worried—he loves his brother very much, as I have dedicated a whole meta to point out.

What’s my usual headcanon re: the fate of parallel!Stan? Oh, well, he’s very much dead, or at least missing and believed to be dead. And parallel!Ford, the man Ford believes to be so lucky, is actually miserable. Fiddleford was merely protecting our Ford from the truth.

If you want to get a bit darker, just look at this excerpt from the Not What He Seems script:

Meanwhile, in the Lost Legends comics, specifically Comix Up, Ford is saying shit like this:

We stan an insensitive king who is utterly and blissfully oblivious to his brother’s dangerously low self-esteem and borderline suicidal thoughts...

Before TBoB, I might have been reluctant to think something so dark could happen in GF, since it still is, after all, a cartoon for kids, and Stan’s a main character!

And true enough, supervising producer and story editor Rob Renzetti’s own headcanon for A Better World, asked of him in a HanaHyperfixates’ interview, seems considerably more light-hearted than mine, with Stan blackmailing Ford (adapted a bit for better readability):

I think, maybe, I’d like to think that Stan gets his shit together. Not that he comes back and that him in Ford are reconciled, probably that never can happen. But probably that he extracts some price from his brother, especially when his brother becomes a success, that like, Stan gets set up in some way, in that Ford is maybe happy to do it. [...] It’s more transactional. Like, “well, you hid the Journal for me,” and Stan’s like, “unless you want me to bring that back and unearth that thing, how about a little daily allowance for your brother here?” [...] You know, like, maybe Stan opens his own, a different Mystery Shack somewhere else. Who knows? [...] I don’t know. I think Stan, in that world, is probably doing better than Stan in our world does until they’re reconciled, you know, because he can hold something over his brother’s head.

But then TBoB went and revealed to us that Dipper and Mabel died horrible deaths in all the other timelines, and while I do take that with a grain of salt because it was revealed to us by Bill Cipher and Bill is not trustworthy at all but a professional liar, just the fact Alex acknowledged and played with the possibility of the two protagonists dying horribly in official GF material is already pretty telling in and of itself...

I think that once parallel!Ford called Stan after a decade, unwittingly gave him hope, and then ripped it out from his hands... yeah. We know how important Ford is to Stan. Reconciliation with Ford might very well have been what was pushing Stan forward. Stan can be very, very stubborn—working on a portal for 30 years—when Ford is involved. But having no Ford at all, that’s something else. I think it’s quite believable that Stan might have lost his will to “go on” in such circumstances. Perhaps not by actively killing himself, perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to do that; but by passive lack of resistance against the many threats that came his way. Parallel!Ford might have planned to call Stan back after his issues were solved and the danger of Bill was fully neutralized, but by then it was probably too late.

There’s no way that a Ford of any dimension would react well to the disappearance or possible death of his brother. It’s not the kind of thing he can easily move on from, as even his relationships with other people in his life were shaped by his need to replace Stan (and not due to Stan’s death, but Ford’s own rejection of an alive Stan), like Alex’s commentary on Society of the Blind Eye lets us know:

Ford as somebody who lost Stan is kinda looking for—even though he rejected his brother, he kinda needs, he needs that other person, and he tried to find that in this kinda sweet prodigy and he just pushed him too far.

(More on their codependency here.)

For further dramatic irony, I like to imagine that parallel!Ford would be, ironically, so, so jealous of our Ford’s happy ending with Stan. Actually, as I type this, the funniest (and by “funny,” I mean fascinating, if tragic) idea occurred to me. Perhaps Fiddleford wasn’t only protecting Ford from the truth, like I said, but from a very unstable, grieving, self-loathing man. Perhaps the real reason Fiddleford didn’t allow the two Fords to meet is that parallel!Ford, upon listening to our Ford praise his accomplishments and mildly shit-talk Stan (“I can’t believe Stanley listened to you! He’s so stubborn, so selfish, he never listens!”) would disregard all reason, all training, and all self-control just for the precious chance to punch himself in the face. Dimension ending catastrophe? A minor detail.

[callme-holly]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 - 𝐃.𝐖

||۶ৎ part 1 of "the stray" series. a lady and the tramp au

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

The room felt oppressive and hot, the rich scent of dinner lingering in the air, making your stomach churn in a way that was nothing short of uncomfortable. Your dress was too tight and pearls too heavy, and every time someone spoke to you, your smile grew tighter and tighter. 

Silver cutlery gleamed under the glow of the chandelier, making everything far too bright. Your eyes were really starting to hurt, a dull ache at the front of your skull that would only worsen as the night dragged on.

Still, you kept your posture straight, trying your hardest to nod along politely to your father’s story which he told during every family meal. The same thing, time and time again. Your mother kept shooting you glances, well aware of your antsiness, waiting for you to say something and break the moment. 

“So,” you glanced up sharply at the sound of your aunt’s voice—clipped but still dripping in honey. “Have you given that college more thought?” 

College. Another prestigious place where they expected far too much of you. 

Your hands fidgeted in your lap and you shrugged. “Not really.” 

Your mother’s hand froze around her wineglass, fingers tightening slightly. “Sweetheart”. A warning. 

“I just said not really.” You kept your voice quiet, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful moment that had shrouded over everyone. “I’m still thinking it over.” 

Your father scoffed, not malicious, but mocking enough. “Well, dont think too long. Offers like that don’t last forever.” 

Those words lingered in the back of your mind long after everyone excused themselves, drifting off to their own corners to get drunk on champagne and other expensive alcohol. Each echo made your chest feel tight and your breathing was starting to become laboured—whether from panic or the tiny size of your dress, you weren’t sure. 

Either way, nobody noticed when you slipped out onto the front porch, the door clinking shut behind you, leaving you to the cool, welcoming exposure of the evening. 

It was a nice break from inside; the sun was beginning to sink low, casting Tulsa in a faint orange hue that contrasted with the sterile white of your home. Sometimes it felt more like a hospital or an office than any type of house, but you supposed you couldn’t complain. Not with a roof over your head and a future laid out before you. 

The street sprawled out before you, going on for what seemed like miles, rows and rows of houses just like yours with their little picket fences and pretty pruned gardens. The trees were all caged; the mailboxes were pristine. No dirt, no graffiti. A reflection of the lavish lifestyle you adored…

A glass crashed from inside. A few men cheered. Your mother scolded faintly. 

Nobody would notice if you went for a walk. Not a soul. They were all too busy discussing politics and finance. You were an after afterthought, a pretty thing for people to look at when they needed a little bit of hope… 

You stepped off the porch, heels clicking against the pavement, your palms brushing your skirt down instinctively as you moved farther from the glowing windows and echoing laughter. Every step away from the house made your breathing ease, inch by inch, until your chest stopped aching and your lungs stopped burning. 

You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t care. As long as you weren’t here, what did it matter? 

The streets grew dimmer the further you walked—the flickering porch lights became fewer, the paint jobs grew more shabby, and fence panels started to go missing. Some cars were dented; others were non-existent – a pleasure the residents could only dream of.

A dog barked in the distance—loud and gruff—nothing like the polite little creature that slept on the end of your bed,   silky ears and brushed-out fur. 

You passed the liquor store your father had pointed out once and stated, “no daughter of mine will ever step foot in there.” It was a seedy place: buzzing neon lights, cracked glass, dingy windows… 

The convenience store around the corner wasn’t much better, but you went inside anyway. It was one of those half gas, half bodega-type places, instilling an unease in you that came with being a pretty girl in a rough area. It was quiet inside, nothing but the faint static of the radio and the hum of a broken refrigerator. 

You walked down the aisles, trying your hardest not to turn your nose up at the dust that lined the shelves, wincing everytime your heels clicked too loudly… You were here to escape… Not to judge… 

“Didn’t think porcelain girls like you came this far South.” 

You startled, whirling around with such speed that you knocked over a rack of gum, a soft gasping leaving you as the packets scattered across the linoleum floor. You bent to pick it up but thought twice upon seeing the grime, instead straightening up and shaking out your curls.

The stranger was leaning against the freezer door, arms crossed, a cigarette burning away. between his lips. You recognised him, even if you didn't know him. Had heard his name like a mantra around town. A troublemaker, a dropout, a thief, a hoodlum... Bad. Bad, bad, bad…

he didn't look as wild as the stories, not the monster you imagined. But there was something about him you feared, the way he stood his ground, like he owned the air around him.

"What?" It was a stupid, weak response. One that made him bark a laugh.  

“You deaf, doll? Or just playing’ dumb?” He took the cigarette from between his lips, tapping out the ash. “I said: girls like you don’t end up down here unless they’re lost. Or bored.” 

You decided then that he wasn’t worth your time, the scent of smoke choking you and making you cough slightly into your elbow. You didn’t belong here. That was for sure, and the sudden epiphany struck fear deep within you once more. Your breath hitched and your eyes flitted about frantically, like you’d just woken up from a nightmare you couldn’t escape. 

“I-I’m not bored.” You whispered, stepping back instinctively. He only stepped closer. “I just wanted to see something different.” 

Your muscles tighten, locking up the way they always do when men look at you too long. But this isn't the same. He's not leering. Just watching.

"Bet you did." He mumbles, pushing off the freezer and dropping the butt alongside the spilt gum. He moves past you without another word, and for a moment, you think that's it. That he's going to leave you here, and that's the end of any interaction you'd ever had with Dallas Winston... You'd go home and lap up your life like a lap dog…

And then he glanced at you over his shoulder, smirking faintly.

"C'mon then, princess. You wanna see something different? I'll show you."

You blink. "What?"

"Just a walk." He chuckles, prompting you to move forward with a tilt of his head. "I'll get you home before curfew. Pinky swear."

You shouldn't say yes. You know better than to follow strange boys with bruised knuckles and a busted lip. You know better than to go anywhere with people who smell like smoke and cheap cologne. But his offer stirs something inside you... Something aching for a change.

You trail after him without a second rational thought, skirt blowing in the wind, perfect curls tousled by the breeze. 

||۶ৎ chapters

||۶ৎ tag list. @mrsdillonx , @goingdelux18 , @princesshailierawr , @r0seb100d , @groovydonutpost, @rizzraa , @sheepandlams , @marinefreaakk , @sugarrootwrites , @marilyn-girly , @itonlyhastobetruetoday , @dairyfairyy , @williamafton26 , @mystiqueonfleek007 , @atpeacee

[deadhands69]

In The Stacks

Part 5: The Elevator

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

A mysterious library patron catches your eye, seeking information about his past life. You help him, stirring up your own past in the process. Contains: gn/afab reader, SMUT, cussing, mentions of injuries/violence, obsessive/yandere behavior (mentions and/or includes: stalking, drugging, kidnapping, probably more if you squint), spoilers.

[previous] this is part 5

[series masterlist]

"I desire violently– and I wait."

– Anaïs Nin

— — more tags added for this chapter, please read them before proceeding + as usual, minors do not interact with this series — —

You sit slouched over the back of a chair, staring at the twenty something texts you’ve sent since yesterday with no response from Tenko. The further the day goes on without seeing him, the more you wish the ground would split open and swallow you whole. It's the least the world could do to put you out of your misery. 

To make matters worse, it's May 9th. The one year anniversary of the final war ending. There's a celebration planned and everything so people have flooded in from all over Japan, packing themselves into the three block memorial park and surrounding businesses. This leaves the library fairly dead, which is unfortunate because you could use the distraction.

Most distractions. As long as it’s not that festival.

For obvious reasons, you have complicated feelings about the celebration and have been planning on staying home tonight. You think Tenko would go though, it seems like the kind of thing he would find funny. Maybe if he doesn't respond by then, you should go there to look for him. 

“Ahem,” a dry voice calls out behind you. You spin around to find an older woman in a teal sweater looking very annoyed by having to wait a few extra seconds to check her books out. You take her library card and the books, scanning each of them.

“They’ll be due in two weeks,” your voice autopilots itself, “have a nice day.”

Walking away, she grumbles something you can’t quite hear. You don't really care, she's in here all the time and she's made so many complaints about everyone working that no one will take it seriously if she reports you anyways. 

“Is this mood thing you have going on because your boyfriend’s not here today?” Ao teases as he returns from shelving books. 

“He's not my boyfriend,” you hear the blank tone of your voice and it almost makes you shutter. “He's…we just got coffee once. Er, twice.”

You’re not really sure why you’re hiding your relationship with Tenko, especially from Ao. He tells you all of his boy issues. Besides, even if Tenko (or is it Tomura now that you've accidentally reminded him?) used to be a super villain, he has a pretty good alibi with a paper trail of articles on his origins now, thanks to you. On top of that, Tomura Shigaraki has a death record and he doesn’t publicly go by that name anymore. You don't think he does, at least. Therefore, as far as anyone else is concerned he doesn't even exist. 

But, on the other hand, at no point in your hooking up around the building has he ever referred to himself as your boyfriend or implied it would be okay for others to know. Maybe he’s just looking out for your job, but you’re not about to out everything without talking to him first. You've waited for so long, you have to get this right. 

So, for now, not publicly your boyfriend. But, he is your soulmate. The person you built this entire life around with nothing but a mere hint of their continued existence. He means so much more to you than any of the ways you could ever explain it to anyone else and any words you could possibly come up with would only cheapen it. 

Sure, he doesn't seem to be talking to you at the moment, but you'll win him back quickly enough. You have to. 

“Uh huh, sure,” Ao jokes, “I’ve seen how you look at each other. You’ve been staring at him for a month. The first time he walked in, I thought I'd need a mop to wipe up all the drool. If he’s not your boyfriend yet, you need to fix that.”

“Trying,” you groan, checking your notification-less phone once more.

“Oh,” he catches on, “oh no. What happened?”

“I,” you try to think of how to phrase this without incriminating anyone, “I said something I shouldn’t have. I’ve been helping him find information on some things and I had more information to give but didn’t share all of it because it needed to be the right time. Then I let it slip accidentally at a very wrong time. And I need to make it right, but he’s not responding right now.”

That’s mostly true. You did let it slip that you had more information at the wrong time, but you also weren’t telling him because what former villain would want to be with a hero? You needed him to get to know you better and see how much the two of you are meant for each other before he realized who he used to be. Now, you’ll have to find another way to make him see that. That’s not something you can ask advice for though.

“How long has it been?” Ao asks, snapping you back to reality.

“Since yesterday, but he usually gets here two hours ago and he’s not replying so he’s obviously avoiding me.”

“That’s not very long. And this information you shared, it sounds sensitive. The kind of sensitive that someone could need a day or two to process? This might not be about you at all.”

“Maybe,” you grumble, “or maybe he’ll forever associate me with it and hate me for it. Shooting the messenger and all that.” 

“Hmm, I see.” Ao considers, “how about this: let’s wait a day or two before assuming anything. Things come up, how do you know he’s not at home with food poisoning or something and can't charge his phone?”

You roll your eyes, hiding the closest thing to a smile you’ve had all day. “Well, now I’m going to be worried about that.” 

“Always here to help,” Ao says, pushing away an empty cart, “but alas, my shift is ending and I need to get home to change for the celebration tonight. You going to be okay for the rest of the evening?”

“Yeah,” you say, not even convincing yourself, “it’ll be fine.”

He leaves to clock out, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“Really,” he says on his way out the door, “call me if you need anything.”

In some ways, talking to Ao about Tenko made you feel a bit better. As much as you hate to admit it, part of you was starting to think you’d been hallucinating him and it’s nice to have another human verify his existence. You still have no clue how he’s still here though. There are so many questions you have for him.

First, you need to get through this.

He wasn’t upset with you yesterday, at least it didn’t seem like it. Tomura came immediately after you said his name. That’s not the response someone would have if they’re unhappy about it, right?

You keep replaying that moment over and over again in your head. Committing every detail to memory, trying to find any hint of a clue you missed like reliving it could give you some missing key to crack the code of why he's not responding.  

At first, it seemed okay. He pulled you in closer. His hand gripped yours while wrapping his arms around you. He stayed like this for a while just holding you. When he pulled away to zip up his pants, his face shifted like he'd just realized something. He didn't look sad, more concerned. Almost like he was afraid of you. 

“Uhm, I have to go,” is all he mumbled before grabbing his backpack and rushing down the stairs. At the time, you were confused but figured he’d explain later. Now, it’s been over twenty four hours and you still don’t have an explanation.

The evening continues to pass, slowly.

The memory replays and you find yourself caught on the nicer parts. It’s a good enough alternative to dwelling on how much you miss him. 

His flawless hands. How perfectly they wrapped over yours as he pressed you into the bookshelf. You can’t imagine the quirk he used to have would work well for that, part of you is glad for whatever happened. In some small ways, at least. You obviously would have taken him either way, but you think some aspects of the life you're building together now are easier for you both. You'd imagine it wouldn't be easy to go through the world needing to constantly keep track of each of your fingers.

As much as you try to distract yourself with anything else, the replay continues. How he touched you. The way every part of his body fits with yours, like you were made for each other.

You feel so depraved having thoughts like this when he’s not even talking to you but you can’t help it. And, you tell yourself, you really shouldn’t be worried because he’ll be back soon enough. 

You’ll make sure of it. 

Part of you wonders if there’s a way you can force Tenko to talk to you. Not anything bad, just keeping him somewhere he has to stay until he hears you out. You could just tell him you're sorry you didn't say anything earlier, you were going to then he started hitting on you and you liked it so you waited. Saying that you found some article and connected the dots and you hope he's not upset with you for ruining the moment. He did say he wants you to know all of him, after all. Maybe he won’t remember that you were a hero and leave.

Now there's the next issue of how to get him somewhere alone and keep him there. He's stronger than you which might cause some difficulty. Your quirk? You could alw–

Wait, no. You can't believe this is where your mind is going. What the fuck are you thinking? There's no way you can actually hold him hostage. That's what it would be, right? You try to clear your head of it, but the idea lingers. Its mere existence in your brain left such an imprint of ‘but what if’ that you find yourself slipping back into planning it when you're not careful. 

Instead, you go back to the nicer thoughts again. Suddenly, they seem like a very reasonable distraction.

You keep thinking back to the way he held your hand like you'd pull away at any moment. Fingers wrapped tightly over yours. 

His hands. 

That's another inconsistency you haven't figured out yet. Tenko has all of his fingers. According to everything you've read on the internet, Tomura Shigaraki did not. Yet you're absolutely certain they're the same person. You've never had this much chemistry with anyone else in your life. It has to be him. 

Humans don't tend to grow back missing body parts on their own though. Is he a clone? A ghost? He feels warm, so you want to rule out the last one. Also, you think ghosts would have the same body they did at the time they died so that doesn't quite work. On that same note, clones are a blank slate so he wouldn't have the same scars either. Neither of these ideas hold water. 

You've always been partial to the theory that the video was fake, but once more, this leaves you with more questions that can only be answered by the person who doesn't remember.

You wonder what he does remember. Clearly his name or he would have just been confused.

His life before you feels so nebulous. You know he was a super villain. Then something happened. After that, he stayed here because of someone and it didn't work out. That part always hurt, knowing he had feelings for someone else after what happened between the two of you on the rooftop. He doesn't seem like the type to switch between people that quickly. If it did mean as much to him as it did to you, he obviously doesn't remember it.

You hear the patter of rain before seeing the streaks running down the windows. Rough day for an outdoor celebration. It reminds you of how Tenko associates rain with you. You wonder if he’s thinking about you right now. You hope so. 

As if you’d summoned him, Tenko walks in precisely one hour before closing. 

He looks like he’s fairing as well as you in all of this. The lack of sleep is apparent on his face with the dark puffy circles under his eyes. Still, he’s breathtaking. You've never seen anyone so beautiful, even when he hasn't slept.

Nervously, he approaches the circulation desk, leaving a cup of coffee in front of you. His eyes catch yours for a moment before he looks away. Turning, he walks out before you can say anything. 

You want to chase him. Your body stays glued in place though, glancing down at the cup.

The order is scratched out with the words “we need to talk” scrawled on the side of the cardboard sleeve. You guess he wanted to make sure you noticed what he wrote?

You couldn’t agree more though. 

The next hour goes agonizingly slow, dragging out without a single patron, everyone is at the festival. You forgot how tiring that can be. Ten minutes in advance, your manager decides to close early to “let you go to the celebration.”

That’s…nice of her.

"Thanks," you yawn, dragging yourself to pull your backpack and jacket out of your cubby.

By the time you’re packed up to leave, you’re absolutely exhausted. As you walk out the door, you keep feeling like you’re missing something but not awake enough to place what it is. 

It’s probably just from missing Tomura. Tenko. Whoever.

At first you thought the coffee he left would help, but you chugged it and even that couldn’t put a dent in not sleeping for two nights straight.

You can rest tonight though. First you have to make sure everything is okay with him. He wants to talk. It'll be okay.

As you walk out of the library doors, he steps from behind a pillar. His hair is lightly misted by the rain earlier. Was he waiting for you this whole time?

“Where were you today, you didn't respond to any of my messages,” you ask, trying to keep the despair from seeping into your voice. 

“I was busy,” he says blankly. 

“Oh. I see.” You might as well jump right into it before you overthink. “Uh, and I'm sorry. I found some information in an article connected to who you were, are, and I should have told you earlier,” your voice wavers and comes out way too fast, but you get through what you need to. 

Tenko has no reaction, simply replying with, “right. You don’t have to pretend anything right now, we’ll talk about it. And you don’t have to be afraid of me, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” 

He takes your shaking hand, steadying you as you walk. “I’m not–”

“Come on,” he replies, cutting you off. “Really. You don’t have to say any of this, I obviously see how nervous you are.”

You want to respond. To find the perfect thing to say in the moment, but you’re just too drained from work. The words never come. 

The two of you pass through the crowd of people lingering outside, the bout of rain earlier did nothing to deter them. Everyone seems so happy, going about their lives that they don’t notice either of you. Before you know it, you’re passing through the big glass doors of your apartment building.

Stepping into the elevator, you start to pull your backpack off to reach the keys and keycard hooked to it out of habit, but Tenko stops you. 

“I’ve got it,” he mumbles, “don’t worry about anything– you look tired. Like cute tired. It's good,” he adds cursing under his breath while trying to correct himself. He pulls your keys out, pressing a button that looks vaguely correct. You’re not sure, your eyes are getting bleary so it’s hard to focus.

Leaning back into a corner, you allow yourself to rest for a moment. He steps in front of you, surrounding you.

It feels nice to have him back like this.

You love this; it's where you belong.

“You know,” Tenko says, hand reaching for the railing behind you, “I tried so many times to see if you remembered me. Saying I died, how we met. You never reacted once. Now, I know you know who I am. How long were you going to wait to say something?”

“I would have told you eventually,” you yawn. “I just needed you to find out the right way. It never felt right. You deserve to know things in the," you yawn, "in the right way, I don't want you to be hurt by anything.” 

Your head is spinning with exhaustion.

“You were...protecting me?” he asks, shocked at the idea anyone would ever think to do that. “Why?”

It takes everything in you to get your words out coherently. 

“Because I love you.”

Tomura’s face shifts to confusion. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course I do,” you mumble.

“Fuck,” he half laughs, looking away. 

The last thing you remember before the drowsiness overtakes you is the railing at your back crumbling to dust.

[series masterlist] [bnha masterlist]

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme 

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

 @lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk @love-for-yoosung-kim @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner

@amira-44820 @its-evee16 @itsameyermaw

[xo2dee]

Hewwo, ive been meaning to ask

But can i request a really angsty oneshot of dante x reader(mutual pining but no one makes the first move cause they scared), where they're both demon hunters in the same organization but a mission goes wrong and reader dies? Its totally fine if you dont want to write it. Just a thought! Thank you for your time <3

PAIRING: Dante/Reader. WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gore. WORD COUNT: 2,111.

A/N: thank you for the request! and anonie you're actually real for requesting this bc this is a high probability of an event happening to dante. and i love angst and hurt with no comfort teehee.

DMC MASTERLIST

Death and the concept of time were two things he thought about often. Usually when he sat alone at his desk lost in thought before his eyes closed to sleep, Dante’s mind would linger to those two topics and the hands he had in both of them.

And, disturbingly enough, sometimes he only thought about them when you came around.

It wasn’t like he wished death on you – no, far from it, it was more so he worried about the prospect of it happening to you way too much than he would’ve liked to admit or even think about. You were basically his partner (cough… in the coworker sense anyways), some skill you retained from someone else that he maneuvered around to make sure you were in sync on jobs together. It had not been his ideal gameplan to take in a human partner, knowing the consequences if he were ever too get too close to you and something were to happen to you (again…), but you’d been like a magnet for him, and he found it so hard to keep you at a distance in case Dante’s teasing started to become real and then the reason why his heart skipped a beat was you. He just couldn’t help himself, the want and need to retain as much humanity as he could beating him out before he was pining just for one glance from you, and he felt so very pathetic the more it went on.

Seriously… it’d taken some time and some soul searching before Dante got to that point too. 

How long had you and Dante known each other? The answer was simple: a long time; a very, long time, and long enough for Dante to realize he’d made the same mistake again that he’d done over and over.

He’d gotten attached to you – you, a human. And not that there was anything wrong with you being a human or humans in general, but there was one glaring topic about humans as a whole to Dante that made him stray away from getting too attached to them. How easy it was for humans to die – their bodies not built the way Dante’s was and subjected to more harm if they were to be hurt in any way. However, Dante had never been a stranger to that as well; Nell Goldstein’s death still weighed heavy within his mind as he could feel his throat constrict from the memory of the fire as he held her body, but every time he downed a glass of amber whiskey sitting at his desk and his eyes strayed towards the beautiful portrait of his mother perched up just in front of him reminded him why he kept humans at arm’s length and kept them safe from a distance.

Too many enemies he’d made… Too many demons around… Having someone special by his side wasn’t ideal, but Dante found himself keeping you around regardless of the gnawing in his gut that something terrible was on the horizon.

It started with a job, one you’d snatched from his hands with a grin as you read out the letter for his ears to hear, then once you’d done that and announced you’d be joining him, that was when he started to feel nauseous – and Dante did not get nauseous. Maybe it was the details in it that had him twirling a strand of his hair around his finger and him bouncing his knee (not his habit at all), or maybe it was just the feelings speaking for him that was muddling his mind, but he pushed them to the side at seeing your excitement for it and let the stutter in his heart take over what his gut was telling him. It paid well too, and that was enough to give you your pay before he paid for any damages and then blew it on junk food, but that still didn’t quell Dante’s nerves for whatever they were telling him. Instead he focused on you at least, entrapped in your smile and the scent of your shampoo to soothe him for the time being.

And perhaps… that had been the issue in itself – he was too distracted.

The job was easy enough as well, almost boring if he was being serious with himself, yet that itch was ever so persistent. He kept his eye on you of course, watching you move nearly flawlessly from the corner of his eyes, multitasking like he usually did before it got too hectic for him to keep you in his line of sight. Hordes of demons were the worst, especially when they liked teleport and had more speed than strength, but you were a good enough demon hunter by yourself so he was normally eager to let you do your own thing – yet, even as he grunted and flipped the Rebellion around in his hands until the blade embedded itself into throat of another, something told him to not look away.

However, even he had to maintain his focus when fighting demons. Especially when he decided to eventually turn his back to despite all the warnings his instincts had been giving him. He was never one to ignore them, but he was also one to keep you as a safe and protected as he could, so he figured if turning his back to you for just a moment to clear the area of what he could to keep them off your back, it was a better alternate and a way to quell the sickness brewing within his gut. Maybe if just a for a moment, he could stop the unease ripping into his throat.

And so, Dante turned his back to you, taking his eyes off of you for just a few moments to clear the path of any heading your way. And he learned that he been another of his greatest mistakes.

Dante hadn’t been looking when it happened, Ebony’s rounds embedded into the skull of one demon as he gutted another with the Rebellion, but something awful cracked in his ears before he heard it – a nasty slick, like flesh being opened unwarranted before the gurgled whimper reached his ears next, then the nausea from before heightened tenfold when he smelt it. Blood… Through all the demonic innards spattered across the pavement, the scent of the forest in the sky, and then the lingering scent of your shampoo, he could smell blood. And it wasn’t just anyone’s blood – it was human blood.

Your blood.

“Shit.”

An understatement of a reaction at best, but Dante was thinking it was only a scratch from a talon too deep making it bleed, and once he’d disposed of them all in an irritated gait full of speed and a raw display of strength before he got to set his sights on you, he realized how big an underreaction it actually had been. You’d still managed to put up a fight against the demon that had attacked you, and through all the blood and the viscera spattered along the ground, Dante’s dread and fear grew to an all time high once he noticed the position of your body and the demon you had managed to kill in the process. And then he understood just why the scent of your blood had been so strong…

The claws had all but shredded through your abdomen enough plunge past your organs and carve out your spine, effectively impaling you – effectively destroying you. The noise he had heard had been the demon attacking you, and you hadn’t even screamed the slightest bit when it happened… but Dante was sure the crack in his ears had been the sound of your spine breaking in half when it’s hand embedded itself way too deep and too hard through you. You were a goner before he even realized it, but Dante was too hard-pressed to get to you as he kicked the corpse of the demon away from you the moment he was near and folded you into his embrace. He was on autopilot for the moment, but the mere seconds later he could feel death’s embrace already begin to chill your skin.

With you cradled in his arms he watched the gurgle of blood spit up from your mouth as you tried to speak, wincing himself at the wet sound from your throat before he tried to reassure you, “Hey, hey, hey, you’re alright…” It was lies, and even with how fast he was, Dante would never make it in time to get you help… Not with he rate that you were bleeding and the severity of your injury. You were nearly… in half… A feat he could pull himself together from, but not one you could do.

A wet cough spat a round of blood onto his shirt, making him lean back onto the tree behind him as he slid to sit and to make you any more comfortable before you sighed and rolled your head against his chest with slowing breaths. “Dante… I can’t feel my legs.”

Maybe it was then he understood the gravity of the situation, then he felt the sting in his eyes before it was rapidly blinked it away in favor of looking at what he had done head-on. If only he had gotten to you in time… you wouldn’t be bleeding out dying in his arms, looking up at him with a smile that shouldn’t have looked as warm as it felt for his heart. He could only sigh as his heart stuttered in a song of melancholic familiarity, resting his cheek atop your head as he pulled further into his body – almost hoping the heat from his body would give you some type of comfort. “I know.”

You hummed, and surprisingly had enough strength to place your hand over his for your own sense of comfort as you started to speak a little quieter, “I don’t regret anything.”

Your hand was cold, and your heartbeat was slowing down. Dante closed his eyes, savoring the scent of your shampoo and the sound of your heartbeat for one last time. “I know.”

“And it’s not your fault…” He had no answer for that, not trusting himself enough to say the right thing for you in the moment of lasting need, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell you just how wrong you were. Though when he didn’t answer you for a few seconds, you sighed again and the hold you had on his hand slightly loosened as you head began to sag in its spot. It would only be moments before you were gone… However, you had one last parting gift that completely shattered him and his heart and ruined his outlook for the rest of the time he was alive. “Dante, know that I’ve loved you for a long time.”

He couldn’t help the shaky laugh at the confession, heart shattered and mind elated at the same time for the recuperation of his hidden feelings that he had been too late to give. Perhaps it was his bad luck in the end, or maybe he was the universe’s cosmic plaything, because as gratifying as it was to hear that come from you, he couldn’t help but hate himself in the end for it. “How cruel… Leavin’ a man like this.”

Your last breath was wet, ragged, and soft as he heard the smile in your voice before you left him from the presence of one final joke. “You can forgive me… can’t you?”

Always. “…Yeah.”

Your body went lax the moment he said it, the finality in the beat of your heart a sound that would haunt him in his nightmares for the rest of his life as he could only pull you closer and hold you for the first time… and the last. You were human. Maybe it was to be expected, or maybe that’s what he got for getting involved into humans lives instead of keeping them safe from a distance. Death followed him everywhere, no one was safe. Dante only sighed as the sting in his eyes tightened his throat with them, not sure how long he would stay there with you until he was ready to carry you back, before he swore off any more attachments in the future. Not when he’d lost the one person he’d found and loved – and loved him back. Then again, it was his fault… Wasn’t it?

He only looked to the night sky, the stars in their betrayal beautiful before a lone one seemed to die out, taking you and the entirely of Dante’s heart with it.

And I love you too. Always.

[tokidokitokyo]

Starting a Conversation in Japanese

A podcast I really enjoy, ことのは日本語の会話のpodcast, recently posted an episode about starting a conversation in Japanese:

やまむ先生 and きび先生 are two Japanese language teachers who talk about a variety of topics on their podcast, and the back-and-forth between the two women is a good way to attune your ears to natural Japanese language conversation.

This episode in particular - 日本で使て！日本人に話しかけるフレーズ (Use in Japan! Phrases to start a conversation with Japanese people) - resonated with me because, although I've been studying Japanese for more than half my life (^^;;) I still vividly remember when I first arrived in Japan and felt like I could barely form a coherent sentence. Speaking with people was a daunting challenge, and if I hadn't had friendly people around me I think that I would have been awkward and terrified for a lot longer than I was. They also have set phrases which I wish I had someone to tell me before I went to Japan!

Feel free to listen to this episode and let me know if you have any additional tips or suggestions to the ones I list below. This episode is designed for N3-level speakers and above, but here are the things that they hit on that I thought were particularly important:

My Japanese Level is Too Low!

When I first arrived in Japan, and the ticket cashier switched immediately to English because I was struggling, I really felt like I could not do Japanese at all, and I was pretty intimidated. But! I used Japanese regularly, and I was able to eventually have enough confidence to speak to others.

The main point brought up in this podcast is that N5 level (beginning level) is enough to start a conversation!

Using formal です・ます forms is perfectly acceptable and actually this is how many Japanese people would address each other when speaking with someone for the first time or with someone they do not know well. You could start off casually, and count on the 外人パス (foreigner card) to get you through, but it is generally more comfortable for Japanese people if you approach them with formal, respectful language. You don't need to pull out N1-level grammar to introduce yourself (and it might even be more awkward if you do), so just go ahead with the basics.

Adjust your comments to the situation!

If you are in a restaurant, a work setting, a group setting, or a school setting, tailor your opening comment to the situation. In Japanese I have heard this called TPO (time, place, occasion), which means don't ask a coworker if she's been on any dates lately (seems like common sense?) and in front of a group of soccer players (I'm imagining my own days in the soccer circle) don't start drooling over BTS' Jin (at least not until you find the other Jin fans - when you first join the club it's way too early). The podcast gives you some good conversation starters that are harmless and can be used in multiple situations. After all, Japanese is all about reading the air (空気を読む).

Think about what you'll say next before you even speak!

I know, I know, you already spent 3.2 hours coming up with your opening line and another 45 minutes working up the courage to use it... but once you've initiated the conversation, the other person may not step up to carry on the conversation, leaving the onus on you. If you're interested in continuing the conversation, have some follow up comments or questions ready in your back pocket. As in any language, if you don't make the effort to continue the conversation, it might just fizzle out.

It's a conversation, not an interrogation!

Asking about the other person is a sure-fire way to keep them talking, but you also need to be mindful that they may not want an interrogation. As they say in the podcast, try to read their face colour (顔の色) and change your approach as needed. Since you are (most likely) from a different country, you could throw in some fun facts about your country that are related to the topic you picked to keep things going.

Safe things to talk about:

The weather

Your hometown/home country

Their plans for the weekend/upcoming holiday

Their hometown

Food

In Short

People are people, and even if your Japanese is not where you'd like it to be, most people will be willing to speak with you, and I've found that most Japanese people are flattered you are learning their language. Since practicing is the best way to improve, there's no better time than now to start speaking. Just remember TPO (time/place/occasion), don't interrogate the other person, and prepare some follow up comments to keep the conversation flowing as best you can.

Hope this is useful!

[scoops-aboy86]

🧜‍♂️ Delayed Inheritance, pt 5

(pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4; also on ao3)

Eddie isn’t entirely sure how he got from bobbing along between swells at the surface to holding hands with the most enchanting creature he’s ever seen. A Prince, even. Of the land and the sea, somehow, as if simply one of those didn’t make him unattainable enough. All signs point to Steve being drastically out of Eddie’s league, and yet… Whenever their eyes meet, he feels like there’s this connection there. Steve may be swept away by the current of his far grander life at any moment, sure, but for now they’re just two young mermen circling the outside of a sunken ship that’s so teeming with kelp and ocean life it’s like it’s own little forest.

Holding, as previously mentioned, hands.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Eddie is saying, “but it’s so cool inside, you have to see.” With a squeeze of his hand and a grin thrown over his shoulder, Eddie adds, “And I know it’s technically a wreck, but she’s plenty safe, Stevie, I promise.”

The other mer squeezes his hand back as they continue to slow their approach to a reasonable speed, bunching up against Eddie a little because he’s still catching on to how to move in the water. “Thank you. I appreciate all you’re doing to help me, even though I’m just some guy you saved from the beach.”

Eddie’s free hand tugs absently at a lock of long hair. “It’s no problem, really. Don’t mention it.”

He doesn’t look at Steve while speaking because he wants Steve to mention it. But once everything is settled with this Nancy situation, there will be two kingdoms vying for Steve’s attention, and the guy should at least get to experience some of what the underwater world has to offer. A little natural beauty to offset the shock of uncovering an unexpected origin story of maternal loss, paternal betrayal, almost two decades of lies, and separation from his intended mate.

“It’s the most real thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Steve insists earnestly, washing away all of Eddie’s wandering thoughts and attempts at better intentions. “We met completely by accident but you knew just who I needed to talk to. And maybe you can’t help with whatever happens next, I don’t know, but you’re helping me pass the time anyway. And you call me Steve, and Stevie… I thought nicknames are something people earn, but you gave them to me right away. That’s really nice, Eddie.”

And, well. What is Eddie supposed to say to that? Oh, I went with Steve because I kind of blanked out partway through you introducing yourself because you’re so attractive and that’s all of your name I could remember for sure, sorry! Absolutely not, just like he’s not going to mention that that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever told him.

“You just seem like a Stevie to me. Would you rather—“

“No, I like it,” Steve replies quickly. “Just—does this mean we’re friends?”

Eddie fights the urge to stop and curl his tail around Steve’s, because that’s way too intimate for an acquaintance of less than a day. Even though he knows Steve has no way of knowing that; Eddie would know. But it’s kind of heartbreaking to hear the caution and eagerness tumbling over each other in his voice. There’s no way someone like Steve doesn’t have other friends, is there? Even Eddie has friends, and he’s bottom of the crab bucket. And if not, he almost wants to tell Steve he should have higher standards.

“Of course we’re friends,” Eddie replies, more vehemence bleeding into his tone than intended but he’s selfish, grasping. (What does he think is going to happen? That Steve will take him along when he moves on to his bigger, better, princely life? Yeah, right.) “My rescues come with guaranteed friendship for as long as you can stand me, no exceptions.”

“That’s true,” pipes up another voice, making both of them start in surprise.

Eddie knew there was a chance some of his friends might be around, even though they didn’t have plans, and that’s… that’s fine. Cutting into his time alone with Steve, but he should be content with whatever he can get, really. He lets the annoyance go and stretches out his tail to wave his fins at Jeff, a dark-skinned cecaelia who returns the gesture with a few tentacles from where he’s peeking through the curtain of green that sways in front of the hole in the ship’s hull.

“Eddie likes to collect lost guppies,” Jeff continues, then gives Steve a curious once-over. “I don’t recognize you… You from around here?”

“I… sort of am?” Steve ventures. He glances at Eddie with wide eyes, still clutching at his hand uncertainly.

The sea might be his world by heritage, but he doesn’t know it—not like Eddie does. Something puffs in Eddies chest at being looked to for guidance. “It’s a long story. Jeff, this is Steve; Stevie, this is my buddy Jeff. We go way back.”

A school of small, silvery fish ribbon their out from where Jeff is holding the kelp aside, looping briefly around Steve so suddenly that he lets out a surprised, laughing little woah. And, okay, maybe Eddie is kind of entranced by the open delight on his face for a slightly noticeable amount of time. But of course Jeff catches on and pokes at Eddie’s tail fins with a smirk while Steve is still distracted.

Eddie brushes it off and clears his gills with a you saw nothing glare. “Are the other guys around? It’s kind of a long story and Steve’s kind of in the middle of a really long day, I don’t want to have to go over everything more than once.”

“Yeah, they’re here.” Jeff ducks back inside for them to follow.

As soon as they’re alone again, Steve leans in close and whispers, “What should I tell them?”

“Whatever you want,” Eddie whispers back, stunned by the sudden proximity and almost going invertebrate-soft with longing. If wishes were fishes he’d close that small distance right now for a kiss, curl around Steve, never let him go… “It’s your story to tell. And we’re the local losers and freaks, no one’s gonna judge you for anything.”

Steve nods, then hesitates.

”Anything, Stevie,” Eddie adds, “really.” Almost wonders, for a second, if Steve regrets the loss of time alone together. If he feels the connection too.

“Can you… teach me how to greet them properly?” The look on his face is nervous and absolutely screams I want your friends to like me. I don’t want to make a mess of it again.”

He’s got a mate lined up, Eddie reminds himself firmly while taking a steadying breath. He’s sweet and he’s pretty and forget out of my league, he’s already spoken for.

“Sure.” Eddie smiles—it’s so easy to smile around Steve, no matter what else is going on in his wistful heart. “If you need an etiquette tutor down here, Stevie, all you had to was ask.”

“Not a tutor,” Steve corrects with surprising force. But before Eddie can get whiplash, he smiles back and adds, “We’re friends, right? You teach me this and I can teach you about handshakes, because that’s what friends do: help each other out.”

Yeah, Eddie is sure now that this prince (or, more specifically, the rapidly growing crush he has on Steve) is going to be the death of him.

(also on ao3)

Tag list (ask to be added/removed): @hotluncheddie @sofadofax @sweetiepeabob @wheneverfeasible @yesdangerpls

@hiei-harringtonmunson @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @ape31 @aceadoxography

@home-and-having-tea

[mydarlingclaudia]

cw : major character death, baby death, angst

Simon Riley who says he’s still married even after your death when people hit on him

Simon Riley who still wears his wedding ring and keeps yours on the same chain as his dog tags

Simon Riley who lost not only you, but the baby you were going to have the day you died

Simon Riley who keeps the nursery the same as it was when you painted it and set up the crib

Simon Riley who shows up to the pub on Fridays an hour or two later than the rest of his team because the show you used to watch all the time only airs at eight p.m. on Fridays, he hasn't missed an episode

Simon Riley who goes to you and your babies joint grave first thing each time he gets back from deployment, there's a third joint part on the tombstone for him one day

Simon Riley who keeps the house the exact same as you left it, he even unfolds and refolds your clothes and the babies when he can't sleep

Simon Riley who doesn't really talk about it, doesn't check in with your family, doesn't take Price's advice when he tells him he should take time off after your death

Simon Riley who wakes up some mornings thinking you're in the other room with your baby, only to remember you aren't

–

You met through a neighbor, your sink had broken and she had pointed you in the direction of the scary guy down the hallway who had fixed her shower last year. He was in your flat for three hours, came out a bit sweaty and with grease on his hands and shirt, but he made your sink better than it was before it started leaking and he walked back down the hall with cash in his pocket.

The next time you see him is when you ask him if he knew anything about cars and if he'd mind taking a look at yours. He gets the check engine light to turn off and makes that wrong-sounding whirring sound to go back to normal, instead of cash, you offer dinner.

He didn't even think to turn you down, he wasn't due back on base for another week, he could use some company. You learned Simon wasn't a handyman or plumber, it was just an odd job he got good at, the military is where his duties lay, no wonder you hadn't seen him around much before.

After deployments, he comes over for dinner each week, then you start going out for dinner and go out to see movies and he starts to show up at your doorstep with flowers. The kiss comes first, officially dating comes second.

The longer you were together, the harder it was to be away on deployments. And you're everything Simon could ever want. Too good for him, too understanding and patient. But Simon still comes home to you, he still kisses your shoulders and lets you wash his back, he still wants to marry you.

And he does, he puts a ring on your finger that looks like the one his mom used to wear before she just took it off one day and never put it back on. He buys you a nice house with a backyard and a fireplace, plans out the whole wedding with you, he does everything right.

Pregnancy comes next, he never saw himself as a dad, but he got more and more comfortable with the idea as your pregnancy progressed. The nursery was yellow, you put a little mobile with seals and starfish and otters over the crib, Simon put the rocking chair together and painted it blue.

He held your hair back when you puked in the mornings, cooked most of the meals you ate over the nine months, did all of the massages, went to all the check-ups, even took that paternity leave he was convinced he'd never use.

He held your hand all through the delivery, your baby girl came out completely silent, one of the nurses in the room with you was new and he didn't know why she started crying at first.

He had thought he'd seen enough blood in his life for it not to really startle him the same way it did when he was a kid, but you and bleeding out being used in the same sentence put a whole new sense of terror in him. The nurses actually had him leave the room, there was only one way it could go, he knew that, but he sat in the hallway bouncing his leg like he was waiting for good news.

He drove home alone that day.

Simon spends his days waiting around now. You were really the only one for him, he knew that far too soon, but by now, he would've been picking his daughter up from her first day of school, maybe you'd even have another baby on the way. When he's not deployed, going through the motions aimlessly, he's daydreaming.

He's sad, of course he is, what else are you supposed to feel? But he doesn't cry as much as he probably should. He imagines school pictures in his wallet and hanging on the walls of your house, birthday party invitations stuck onto the fridge and date night's marked on the calendar.

He goes into the nursery sometimes, like he's waiting up with the baby, trying to get it to fall back asleep. He'll spin the mobile and sit back in the chair that he was meant to hold his daughter in and just stare at it, even after it stops moving, he stays.

Your grave is so heartbreaking to see, but it's comforting, also. That you'll always be there, you and your daughter, and one day, he'll be right next to you again.

[dodger432101]

OMG I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE LUX💜💜💜

I can’t help but think of Lux making an effort to swoon us every time we come home. I’m talking nice music, flirting touches and lots of kisses and hugs☺️

[I got a little lost in the fluff. If you want another that's more flirty and about making the reader really swoon send another request, I am more than happy to write a flirty lil Lux :>]

Work has been hard on you this week. The general public weren't the most fun to deal with at the best of times, but it's like the world has banded against you recently. There were always some annoying teenagers, or a parent who needed someone to take their anger out on, or food and drink thrown just about everywhere it could go.

You stagger home each day, worn out even though you live close to Palazzo. Lux hates seeing you so run down, always helping you out of your clothes and getting you something to eat. Every other day he'd run you a bath or get your shower ready, washing your hair for you while you rant out your frustrations from the day. He even threatened to go to work with you one day to sort those pesky mortals out. You're too tired to argue against him at that point, so you mumble about him not worrying about it as he helps you dry off and get into bed.

Luckily for you, you have the weekend off. So on Friday, you stand a little bit taller as you head out the door, blowing a kiss to Lux. Of course he knows this is your last day before you get a bit of time away from work, so once he's said goodbye to you he gets to work on making a nice scene for you to come home to.

Today has not been any kinder to you. Fatigued, you clumsily unlock the door to your home and stagger your way in. Only after the door closes behind you do you register the soft music playing further in the house. Curious, you make your way towards the source of the sound, ending up in your bedroom. Lux slips off the bed as the door opens, sauntering over to you. He's wearing a white shirt -the top few buttons undone- and black pants, you notice, as he adjusts his collar before holding a hand out to you. “You look exhausted, angel. Come, lay down, do you want anything to eat?” There's already a t-shirt and a pair of shorts waiting for you on the bed, which Lux helps you into once he's got you out of your work clothes. Of course, that doesn't happen without plenty of kisses being littered over your body, each one relaxing your tense muscles from withholding your rage at the Palazzo’s visitors.

“Mmm, not right now, love. Maybe later..” You flop down into bed on your front, head to the side and eyes closed. Just from your voice it's clear that you need this treatment. Your God nods to your response, even though you can't see it, hands massaging at your shoulders. That gets him some grumbled moans of relief so he goes down your back too, smiling as he feels you sink into the mattress with each knot that he works out.

After you're nice and relaxed, he comes back up to kiss along the side of your face he can get to. “I'm so proud of you for getting through this week, my love.” The music playing fades out, replaced by an equally soft track. It's a playlist of relaxing music he found, mostly containing instruments he's noticed you enjoy. “I love you so much, angel. You put up with so much shit from your own species,” That gets a low chuckle out of you. “Just to keep a roof over our heads, and food in your -well, our- bellies. I hope you know just how grateful I am to have such a strong, persevering lover. And I hope the little things I do make life easier for you, sunshine.”

Lux snuggles up against you, giggling as you grumble at the feeling of his shirt. He separates from you just enough to unbutton it the rest of the way and pull it off, a fond smile on his lips as you bury your face into his chest. “You do help, Lux, so much. The thought of coming home to you keeps me going through my shitty job.” His hands go up to run through your tangled hair as you turn on your side, facing him, humming as he gently scratches at your scalp. “I love you, Lux.”

The God of Light rests his head on the pillow, watching you with little hearts in his eyes. “I love you too, my beautiful angel. Take a nap if you want. You sure look like you need it.” He leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head, smirking as you return it on the part of his chest your lips are pressed up against. “You've got 2 days to relax now. We can watch that series you mentioned earlier in the week, or try that recipe you found online, or-..”

You've fallen asleep to his voice, the vibrations of him talking lulling you to dream land. He slowly wraps his arms around your head, cradling you to his chest. “Or we can just stay in bed. Either way I'll be happy. I love every second I spend with you.” His voice is just a whisper. “Sweet dreams, my most precious light.” With one more kiss to your head, Lux closes his eyes, soaking in your warmth as he joins you in sleep.

[tgmsunmontue]

Build you brick by brick... 6/? (WIP)

A Hangster fic that starts with a Lego set...

Especially for @phisworld14... 💛 May your weekend be GLORIOUS my friend!

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE

PART SIX

A week passes uneventful with no Lego shenanigans. It's suspicious as fuck.

Then another week passes… the other Daggers have started heckling Payback about his lack of action, going so far to telling him that while he might have a rooster he has to name he isn’t meant to be sitting on a perch like this. Instead of needling him it feels like soft teasing and he catches Jake looking at him with a soft smile rather than his standard half-smirk and it makes him smile back, slowly, hesitantly. It feels like there is something there, but he’s not going to push. Honestly he’s happy they’re friends now, or friendly colleagues, doesn’t know if hoping for more is smart.

Three whole weeks have passed, and the gentle heckling of Payback has turned into all out mocking for being slow. The worst possible insult they can throw around apparently. He’s glad it’s the weekend, even if it means the quiet monotony of household chores. He likes the predictability of his weekends, he can be spontaneous but he also thrives in routine, knowing when and how things need to be done. He’s thrown everything into the washer, is walking around in nothing but an old pair of basketball shorts when there’s a knock on his front door. He wonders if Payback is going to ask to blindfold him, or drop and run or… he opens the door and steps back in surprise. It is definitely not Payback.

“Hi. Uh. Can I help you?”

She looks him up and down and he flushes a little. He’s not used to women he doesn’t know turning up on his doorstep. Especially when he's almost naked.

“Hi. I’m Carly.”

“Uh… I’m sorry. That… should I know you?”

“I’m Rueben’s sister?”

“…Oh. Payback,” Bradley says, and sending someone else to do it is so shockingly simple he’s surprised none of the others thought of it. Although none of them would do it for each other, it would likely void the game or something.

“Yes. Him.”

“Oh… he’s sent you here to… do the thing?”

“The thing?” her eyebrows go up and Bradley cringes.

“The Lego? They’ve been getting pretty creative…”

“So I’ve heard. And yes… that would be the very weirdly specific thing my brother has asked me to do when I’ve flown all this way to visit with him. With thing he asked me to make or collect or buy…”

“Uh. I can take it and do it, you don’t –”

“Oh no, after everything I’ve heard about these I am definitely needing to see these things… Also I didn’t make all these pieces to pass them over to an amateur. No offence.”

Bradley feels like he should be taking offence. He’s a highly accomplished naval aviator, has his own place and mostly has his shit together. Then again, so does Rueben, and he knows enough from seeing Natasha with her sisters that you do not mess with them.

“Come in. Uh. Can I get you something to drink? The, uh, roosters are just through there…”

“I’ll take a coffee thanks. I was told to bring you one but I informed Ruby that if anyone was bringing someone coffee he would be making me one.”

“Ruby?”

“Mmm. Low hanging fruit in terms of a callsign. He must have talked about Star Wars a lot to distract you all from that. Oh wow… these are great. Although… really?” Carly asks, and she’s pointing at the abysmally decorated Harvard with its paper scarf and roughly folded hat.

“I had no hand in any of this. I’m just the unwilling victim…”

“Well, it’s letting the team down. I’ll see what I can whip up when I get home.”

“What do you do exactly?” Bradley asks as he sets about making more coffee. Carly has popped off the Hei Hei nameplate and replaced it with one that says Payback, then replaced the small lightsabre with a bigger one that’s more to the right scale for the Fanboy rooster and then grabbed one of the unadorned Hei Heis and made herself at home at his dining table. He figures Payback must have been sending her photos.

“I’m an engineering lab tech at MIT. Specifically, I look after the laser cutters and 3D printers, know all the software inside out… creamer if you have it, otherwise black is fine.”

She’s taking the rooster apart and replacing parts and as Bradley slides her cup of coffee over he realizes that she’s made a whole lot of little custom pieces that are making this particular Hei Hei look like it’s been electrocuted, feathers all fluffed out and spikey. Then the flowers around the base are being replaced with little Lego miniature radios and a boombox, then little bolts of lighting angling up and he lets out a laugh.

“Oh my god… it’s Fritz.”

“Yep. That man is charged with far too much electricity. Electric shock every time I touch him…”

“You know Fritz?” Bradley asks, surprised.

She smiles at him like he’s some kind of idiot and then holds up her hand and Bradley sees what he assumes is an engagement ring on her finger. Well shit.

“I know him biblically. And I have not yet been allowed to see him because my brother insisted I do this first…”

“Oh shit… I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize for my brother. I’m far too used to it. And he did introduce me to my future husband, so I can forgive him some things… Though I am glad I’m finally getting a chance to meet the rest of their Squadron, even if it is in Lego form first…”

She shares a smile with Bradley at that, and he wonders what kind of havoc she’s going to help cause, but also now knows why Fanboy has been waiting. He’d simply been biding his time.

[no-charity-case]

An analysis of Davey and Katherine's relationship (part 2/2).

I think one of the most interesting developments in the entire show is how Davey and Katherine come to like each other, so let's explore their relationship in another informal essay (part 2). In case you haven't read part 1, here's a link.

This is presented somewhat chronologically in the sense that all the scenes are in the correct order. However, since their relationship and opinions of one another no longer drastically change, I have grouped together discussion points for each scene (so this post is largely topic-led rather than development-led).

When Katherine and Les find Jack and Davey in the theatre, she looks happy to see Davey in particular. In the first gif, she gives him a smile as a greeting, and they both share a look of (what is best described as) disappointed amusement (Davey is more disappointed and Katherine is more amused) after Les says he's got a girl. I love how she pulls an awkward look afterwards: Les has clearly told her everything...

In the second gif, after Les says Sally is a plum, Davey looks to Katherine as if to say 'what did you let him do?' and she just smiles brightly and walks away (she definitely knew about Sally). I think the relationship she has with Les is so cute, and it really influences how she and Davey come to like each other, as they both have an older sibling bond with the kid.

Adding on to this point, at the end of Watch What Happens (Reprise), Davey looks to Katherine, fully annoyed with Les' whole 'having a girl' thing, but she finds it adorable and laughs. Although, she does pull a strained smile before she does so (probably because she knows the brothers well enough to predict Davey's reaction).

Katherine is soft on Les, and Davey is comparatively strict (which makes sense as Davey is actually his brother).

Of course, Katherine's character is a combination of Sarah Jacobs and Denton, so the influence from Sarah really shines through when she interacts with the Jacobs boys.

When Les becomes worried for Crutchie, he looks to Katherine first, and she immediately goes to comfort him. This exemplifies how Les seeks comfort in Katherine as an older sister figure and how Katherine is concerned for Les' feelings as if he's her little brother.

DAVID We’re doing something that’s never been done before! How could that not be dangerous? JACK Specs brung me a note from Crutchie at the Refuge. I tried to go see him. I went up the fire escape. They busted him up so bad, he couldn’t even come to the window. Now, what if he don’t make it, huh? Are you willin’ to shoulder that? For what, half a penny a pape?

She and David are noticeably really close by this point in the musical, but it's quite easy to miss on your first watch. When Davey is explaining the rally to Jack, he looks back at Katherine for reassurance, and she nods (encouraging him to continue).

After Jack responds, suggesting Davey's rally idea makes him insane, Katherine defends him:

DAVID It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We wanna hold a rally, a citywide meeting where every newsie gets a say and a vote. And… we do it after working hours so no one loses a days pay. Smart? JACK Yeah, smart enough to get you committed to a padded room. KATHERINE The guy who paints places he’s never seen is calling us crazy?

Katherine knows Davey won't shoot back when he's trying to get Jack on his side. In the movie (when convincing Spot), in the musical (when convincing the scabs), and in this scene (convincing Jack), David's usual tactics are flattery, kindness, and inspirational words.

Knowing this about Davey, Katherine steps in and she insults Jack instead, using Santa Fe against him (low blow, but Jack kind of had it coming).

The look Jack sends her after she says this could be interpreted in three ways (although all three can be simultaneously true; we can feel many things at once). The main interpretation is that he's shocked Katherine would use Santa Fe against him. The second is that he's thinking, 'What did you just say about me?' as if he didn't just call David crazy. The third interpretation (which is most relevant to this post) is that he's wondering when Katherine and Davey got so close.

Last time he saw the pair, they were not close at all, and it could be argued they even disliked each other. However, they now seem to be close friends and are defending each other.

Katherine, to an extent, shows a dislike towards Jack because of how he treats Davey in this scene.

She doesn't like how aggressively Jack is acting, and she flinches when he forcefully throws the cloth near her. He doesn't (in this scene) touch her or shout in her face like he does with Davey, but she is afraid that he might.

We can see, as she watches how Jack is acting towards Davey, that Katherine is appalled to see this side of Jack.

Just look at these two images. In the first, Jack has just dismissed Davey's arguments by getting in his face and saying:

JACK If I wanted a sermon, I would show up for church.

Katherine is looking at Jack, shocked and disappointed. She is on Davey's side and dislikes the way Jack is ignoring the arguments she likely helped Davey come up with. I think much of her reaction is also due to how Jack isn't the determined leader she thought he was, but Davey has grown to epitomise this trait.

In the second image, Jack has just hit Davey's head and hollered in his face. Davey doesn't flinch whatsoever (although that's a conversation for another day), but Katherine shoots Jack a look of disgust as he walks past her.

JACK (sung) Dave, what the hell? Did they bust up your brains or somethin'? As I recall, Dave, we all got our asses kicked They won DAVID Won the battle JACK Oh come on

She equally hates how Jack is treating others and how Davey is being treated. If this makes no sense (as I completely understand that my phrasing is confusing), Katherine dislikes Jack because he treats others poorly and this is a rotten thing to do, and she also dislikes the way Davey is being treated because it is unfair that such a bright-eyed, spirited person is being belittled.

To sum this section up, Katherine is protective of both Davey and Les.

When Davey eventually convinces Jack, Katherine is amazed. Davey impresses her with his ability to win Jack over in a similar way that Katherine impressed Davey when she got them on the front page.

Her supporting Davey throughout Watch What Happens (Reprise) is so heart-warming. Katherine communicates how proud she is by gently patting Davey's chest (gif 1), and we can see them holding each other's hands (gif 2). They're content to use physical touch, showing that the pair are comfortable with each other.

I also love how Katherine immediately follows Davey in the second clip with her finger pointing as if she has something to add. They inspire each other with their thoughts, and they build from the foundations established by the other.

JACK (sung) You can't undo the past DAVEY (sung) So just move on and DAVEY & KATHERINE (sung) Stay on track

The newsies become stronger when David and Katherine become mentally in sync, as they make ideas like the rally and The Children's Crusade (I do truly believe they collaborated on these). They quietly support each other when their ideas aren't getting the support they should (as seen in the gentle, small touches), and I believe this reveals their close relationship more than some grand display ever could.

The way Katherine and David encourage each other shows their close bond. In this gif, we can see Davey nod as he sings "We've got the plan", and she nods back at him, confirming that everything will be okay (even though they are both terrified).

As they both walk to meet Jack on the other side of the stage, Davey places a gentle hand on her back, which encourages Katherine to interact again with Jack (as her last was one of shock, dislike, and disgust).

I didn't know where else to put this topically so I've decided to add it as a little bonus. When Davey does a spit-handshake with Jack at the end of Watch What Happens (Reprise), he still believes it is disgusting and winces. As he wipes his hand on his trousers, he gives an uncomfortable smile to Katherine.

This could connote two things. Firstly, she is of high class, so he may assume Katherine also finds this disgusting (you know, because of societal standards and manners). Or, it could mean that Katherine knows Davey well enough to understand how gross he felt doing that handshake.

Okay, let's move on to the scene in Pulitzer's office. I've inserted two clips above, the left showing:

PULITZER You attend this rally and you speak against this hopeless strike. And I’ll see your criminal record expunged. And your pockets filled with enough cash to carry you in a first-class train compartment from New York to New Mexico and beyond. You did say he wanted to travel west, didn’t you?

And the right showing:

PULITZER And what about your pal, uh… SNYDER Davey. PULITZER Davey and his baby brother ripped from their loving family and tossed to the rats. Tch, tch, tch, tch, tch. Will they ever be able to thank you enough?

The way Jack feels equally betrayed as both get revealed says just as much about Katherine's relationship with the Jacobs brothers as it does about Jack's relationship with the Jacobs brothers.

He feels betrayed that Katherine had told her father about the boys, and therefore put Davey and Les in danger (although she didn't actually tell her father anything, Jack thinks she did). He cares deeply for them, and he knows how close she is with them, so it hit him equally as hard as the Santa Fe betrayal.

At the rally, Davey is nervous. He doesn't feel like he can talk in front of all the newsies. Jack is the face, and he is the brains.

Medda tells him that Jack hasn't shown up and that he needs to do the speech alone. He anxiously murmurs, "I can't," and I love how she reassures him by confidently affirming, "Yes, you can."

MEDDA Sorry, kid. No sign of him yet. Looks like you’re doin’ a solo. DAVID I can’t. MEDDA Yes, you can.

Side note, I love how Medda says "doing a solo" instead of "doing this solo," it's just a very character-appropriate thing to say (you know, because you perform a solo and she runs a theatre).

Anyway, he begins the speech, and he spots Katherine in one of the top boxes. You can see him look at her in the top insert of this section, and her presence seems to reassure him (this is a bit of a reach, but it is a plausible and rational interpretation).

In the third insert, we can see Katherine's reaction as Davey is talking. She's initially nervous for him as she understands him enough to know that he doesn't like public speaking, and he hates the feeling of all eyes being on him. But, as he delivers his speech, Katherine realises Davey will be fine. We can see her smile (which communicates her relief, proudness, and encouragement) at the end of the gif.

However, she knows that there's nothing she can do to stop Jack from speaking out against the rally and being a traitor.

She watches sympathetically as the newsies all shout and argue on the stage below. This sympathy is likely directed towards the newsies she is closest with (Davey being one of them). There is a sense of hopelessness as she watches the rally (which was David's idea as she says in the next scene) fall apart, and she knows there is nothing she can do to stop Davey and the other newsies from being hurt.

She may have even seen Davey stand there, unable to move from his disbelief, as the newsies run past him. Whether or not she witnessed this, she still saw enough to feel terrible for him, and the reason she feels upset is because she cares deeply for Davey.

Going back a bit (as the last two discussion points flowed nicely into one another), let's look at the brief celebration after Davey's speech (and before Jack comes in to ruin the event).

As Davey is clapping, he nods to someone (and he seems to be thankfully acknowledging their support). Now, it could be said that this person is Katherine, but Davey's head isn't angled towards the top box where Katherine is.

I believe he is nodding to Specs, as he, Specs, Les, and Katherine appear to have a strong relationship (see part 1), so it makes sense that Specs would be loudly supporting him. Plus, it is in character for Specs to be the newsie who cares the most about David giving a good speech (again, refer to part 1 where I talk about how Specs and Davey stick around to hear if Katherine had any more news after she tells them they made front page).

Alright, let's now talk about what the rooftop scene says about Katherine and Davey's relationship.

As soon as Jack comes to the rooftop, she criticises his choice to speak against the rally. Her reasoning for this (or at least the bitterness behind it) could be the effect his betrayal had on the newsies, especially Davey.

KATHERINE That was some speech you made. JACK How’d you get here? KATHERINE Well, Specs showed me. JACK What? He say you could go through my stuff? [He yanks his drawings out of Katherine’s hands, crumpling them, then rolls them up carefully out of her view.]

She flinches again when Jack snatches his drawings from her, and it is more extreme than her flinch in the theatre. This could be for two reasons. Firstly, Katherine may be more afraid because Jack pulls something away from her (so her sense of touch is involved this time). Alternatively, this could be because Katherine feels safer when Davey, and Les to a lesser extent, are around.

KATHERINE I… I don’t understand! If you were willing to go to jail for those boys, how could you turn your back on them now?

Katherine shouts this line to Jack, showcasing the anger she is feeling on behalf of the other newsies. It's a short comment, but it evidences my claims from the rally.

KATHERINE I need to know that you didn’t cave for the money.

Katherine wants an answer as to why Jack decided to betray them. This could be because she'd had a chat with the newsies beforehand. After all, Specs showed her where Jack kept his drawings, why wouldn't he also discuss his thoughts with her? I think she spoke with all the newsies after the rally (something similar to the deli meetings, where they can gather their thoughts). The newsies all respect Katherine (refer to King of New York), and would definitely appreciate her input on the situation of Jack becoming a traitor.

JACK I don’t… I don’t know what else we can do. KATHERINE Ah, but I do. JACK Come on. It’s… KATHERINE Really, Jack? Really? Only you can have a good idea? Or is it because I’m a girl? JACK I did not say nothin’… KATHERINE This would be a good time to shut up. Being boss doesn’t mean you have all the answers. Just the brains to recognize the right one when you hear it. JACK I’m listening. KATHERINE Good for you. The strike was your idea. The rally was Davey’s. And now my plan will take us to the finish line. Deal with it.

This interaction deeply implies that Katherine and Davey have had many conversations outside of the strike.

Katherine accuses Jack of undermining her because she's a girl. This idea may have originated from Davey confessing his own prejudgements about Katherine or telling what the other newsies' first impressions were. After all, Race wasn't very slick with how he was checking her out, which he likely only did because she's a woman (he was so unnecessarily overdramatic with it, as if it was performative and done for the amusement of the newsies).

Her and Davey have definitely gossiped about Jack overriding their ideas and talking over them (or even talking for them). "This would be a good time to shut up" truly came from some built up feelings.

Adding on to this "Being boss doesn’t mean you have all the answers. Just the brains to recognize the right one when you hear it," is such a Katherine and Davey thing to talk about. The pair of them both have to suffer Jack being the 'boss' and ignoring their ideas, so her words here likely come from a previous discussion she's had with Davey.

Plus, the absolute sass in "good for you," further evidences that she has some pent up anger from being disregarded, and it's probably something her and Davey (and perhaps even the other newsies) have joked they'd like to say to Jack. 'Jack never listens' may even be a running joke between them.

They has now got to a point in their relationship where Katherine is willing to credit Davey as a co-leader: "The strike was your idea. The rally was Davey’s. And now my plan will take us to the finish line," which differs from her ignoring Jack's insistence that Davey is the brains in the exclusive interview (refer to part 1).

She quotes Les when they're in the cellar printing, which obviously displays how close she is with the Jacobs brothers.

KATHERINE In the words of the little one, “Can we table the palaver and get back to business?”

It is clear Katherine, Jack, and Davey had all discussed how The Children's Crusade would work before they met in the cellar. From their first meeting in the deli, it is hard to believe that Katherine and Davey form a close bond and work together on getting Jack back and winning the strike.

DAVID All right, here’s how it’ll work. As we print the papes, Race, you’ll let the fellas in and they’ll spread ‘em to every workin’ kid in New York. After that… JACK Well, after that, it’s up to them.

I love how (as seen in the image above), Katherine and Davey hold each other and look to the other for reassurance (as we've seen occur numerous times throughout this post). They've grown close and I think they are a strong contender for the most naturally progressing relationship in the musical. The things which show their relationship are small, but this is what makes it so believable. They don't try to be grand, they just quietly support the other.

When she's reading out the letter they are to distribute to the working kids of New York, she keeps looking towards Davey. In this clip, I've shown her doing it after introducing Jack, then while reading out the letter (she actually looks to Davey twice while reading it aloud, but my laptop isn't a fan of long gifs right now).

KATHERINE “In the words of Union Leader Jack Kelly” JACK Yeah, yeah, yeah… KATHERINE “we will work with you, we will even work for you, but we will be paid and treated as valuable members of your organization.”

I feel like the massive grin she shoots Davey's way as she introduces 'Union Leader Jack Kelly' is a shared moment of excitement of 'we did it' because they managed to get him back twice (Davey convincing him the first time in the theatre, and Katherine convincing him a second time after the rally).

And the way she glances multiple times at Davey could be a similar seeking of reassurance that we see Davey do during his speech at the rally.

I also love this image at the end of Once and For All. She's literally looking up at the newsies, which contrasts with the way she looked down on them at her first meeting at the deli (where she was standing and the newsies, for the most part, were sitting).

There are many nerdy little interpretations I can make from this. Firstly, she has contributed to the success of their strike, so they are positioned up high as she proudly watches the final stage succeed.

Secondly, it reinforces that Katherine doesn't feel superior to the newsies (like she did during her first Jacobi's Deli meeting). She now gladly lets them take the glory for her work (as she does during her second Jacobi's Deli meeting, aka King of New York).

Thirdly, it could show the pressure she is feeling. All those boys are counting on her for the Children's Crusade to get the attention of the important men. She's feeling the stress of ensuring that those in power make the changes the newsies want.

Just look at how anxious she is when Pulitzer asks to speak to Jack alone. Medda comforts her by tapping her arm and guiding her out.

PULITZER Mr. Kelly… if I may speak to you. Alone. JACK (aside) Don’t worry, I’ll get it.

Davey is similarly stressed, and Jack reassures him that everything will be fine by saying that he'll get the price reduction.

This reaffirms that Katherine and Davey confide in each other. Both of them are equally stressed about Jack being alone with Pulitzer, likely because of what happened last time.

We can see Davey glance back at Katherine first, and Katherine looks at Davey soon after. This further evidences that they confide in each other as they both glance at the other when they are nervous.

JACK Hey, don’t sweat it, Gov. I mean, with the strike settled, I should be hittin’ the road. DAVID Don’t you ever get tired of singing the same old tune? What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t? Tarantulas? KATHERINE Better yet, what’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t?

The fact that they talk is further shown in the next scene. When Davey chases Jack, asking him what Santa Fe has that New York doesn't, Katherine adds on to it, asking what New York has that Santa Fe doesn't. These thought-provoking (and somewhat philosophical) questions could be something they've spoken to each other about before. After all, they both dislike Jack's obsession with Santa Fe.

If you believe they haven't had deep conversations (no one will agree with every single observation and assumption I have), this at least shows how Katherine and Davey bounce ideas off each other in conversation. So, even if you believe they aren't close friends, they are still a great duo intellectually.

But the look Katherine gives Davey after she and Jack kiss suggests that she has gushed to David about her feelings for Jack.

I do love that, in the Finale, Jack walks first, and Katherine and Davey follow behind. It solidifies that she and Davey are friends and are of equal importance to the strike. This shows development in their friendship as Katherine initially undermined Davey, and Davey initially underestimated Katherine, but the strike succeeded because they grew to respect each other.

To conclude, Katherine and Davey have one of the most wholesome and naturally progressing relationships in the show. Their first interaction is quite negative because of their prejudgements about the other, and they appear to continue these prejudgements until they're proven wrong (Davey stepping up when Jack flees, and Katherine getting them to the front page). They grow to treat each other with respect, and they seek comfort and reassurance from each other. It is implied that they talk often, which further communicates their closeness. Katherine sees Davey and Les like brothers, and cares deeply for them, just as the Jacobs brothers care deeply about Katherine. The way their affection for each other is shown is quite subtle and small, which makes their bond seem more natural and genuine.

[lyricalt]

PK2025: 05. Kiss on the Palm

Pridekisses - Prompt List 2025

TF2 - same fraction sniperspy - rated: T

----

It’s the second time that they’ve fallen asleep in each other’s beds. The first time happened on accident in Sniper’s camper, where the sex had apparently been fantastic enough Spy had simply dozed off until morning, woke up looking slightly annoyed, and detangled himself from Sniper’s koala hold with impressive grace and nonchalance. Ultimately, Spy didn’t have too much to say on it. Sniper, following Spy’s lead, didn’t see any reason to point it out either, and so Spy had left after a brief good-bye, leaving Sniper to feel some type of way about how things were between them—a fractional shift, a little puzzling but not too troubling. It was an accident, neither good nor bad, but shouldn’t really be repeated.

And now, in their typical tit-for-tat manner, Sniper wakes up in Spy’s overly plush bed, similarly annoyed, and then more miffed at the fact that apparently he’s got a habit of clinging and snuggling if he’s got an extra body sleeping next to him. Spy is laying under Sniper’s arm and leg on his side, facing away from Sniper. His breathing is even and he isn’t wiggling, but that doesn’t really mean anything when it comes to spies being truly asleep.

Sniper’s got none of Spy’s slinky finesse, but he clearly can’t stay here now that he’s awake. He knows the value of waiting and patience, and this isn’t one of those times where he can wait out the next move. It’d be worse if he doesn’t take his own initiative, as embarrassing as the entire thing is, and if Spy wakes up knowing Sniper had just laid there like an idiot then the embarrassment will turn straight into floor-swallowing mortification.

Sniper sits up. He’d spent so much time committing to the act of leaving, he forgets the details of where his limbs ought to go and in what order. The movement startles Spy into turning to face him—so Spy had been awake all this time—which leaves Sniper awkwardly braced on one elbow while his other hand is over Spy’s chest, hovering over Spy. 

Spy blinks. 

Sniper quickly slides his leg off from Spy’s hip. (One other extremity he’s forgotten to remove from Spy.) Just his luck it gets tangled in Spy’s stupid silk sheets—shouldn’t they be slippery enough to not have that problem? And the sheet pulls down, exposing Spy’s bare chest to the waist, not to mention falling off from Sniper completely.

“You slept well,” Spy says, completely unbothered, or making the deliberate choice to look unbothered. He even stretches, right under Sniper, though maybe he’s due for a quick stretch after being under Sniper for half the night. His chest is littered with bite marks and hickies.

Sniper grunts. It doesn’t seem right to apologize for overstaying. After all, Spy hadn’t made any excuses when he’d done it. With a sigh, he lightly smacks Spy’s shoulder. “You didn’t wake me.”

Spy shrugs and catches Sniper’s hand before a second smack can be initiated. He pecks a small kiss under Sniper’s palm.

“How flattering that you think I can also wake up with all my faculties intact, ready to kick you out,” Spy mumbles against Sniper’s skin. He drops Sniper’s hand. Despite his statement, he looks more alert than ever. “You look like you are in a hurry.”

Sniper probably looks like a lot of things in the moment, which might read to Spy that he’s in a hurry. His palm tingles, and he hadn’t realized his hand had curled into a nervous fist, like somehow he wants to keep the feel of Spy’s mouth inside his palm. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m starved,” he says, scooting off the bed. The fucking bedsheet’s got a mind of its own, following his feet to the floor. Now Spy’s completely exposed, but Sniper ain’t looking. His clothes are scattered but he only needs to pull on the trousers and shirt. “Y’want anything?”

Spy’s leering at him, watching him dress, which actually makes Sniper feel better. “No. I’ll likely waste away in bed for a while longer.”

Sniper scoffs as Spy settles back into the bed, now comfortably sprawled with the extra space. Still naked. “Suit yourself.”

Spy makes a noise of indifference, though he glances over at Sniper again, eyes now assessing. “Something wrong with your firing hand, by the way?”

Sniper realizes he’s still making a fist, fingers growing sweaty. He shakes out his hand, like he’s got a cramp. 

“Nah, nothing to worry about,” Sniper says, as casually as he can, and flees the room.

[boy-gender]

Basics of Shaving

Someone on reddit was asking about how to start shaving as a trans man just growing in hair, and I thought- since it's summer- more people might need that info now, so I'll cross post it here!

Basic shaving tips below the cut:

So first things first, you have to decide- are you shaving because you want to get rid of the hair in that area permanently, or are you just shaving to shorten/tidy it but want to keep the hair?

If you're trying to permanently remove the hair from an area, shaving actually isnt your best move. When you shave you cut the hair mid-shaft but don't remove the root, and if you want to permanently remove hair, you gotta kill the root. Plucking removes the root, as does waxing, by ripping the root out. Lazer hair removal kills the roots by burning them away. Lazer hurts less than plucking or waxing but is more expensive.

If you want to keep the hair and are just tidying things up, here are some tips:

-Wet your razor and your face before you start, then apple a soap, shampoo, shaving cream, or shaving foam. Youre dragging a blade over your skin, so you need some lubrication to help not cut yourself. You shave while the soap is there, removing the soap as you go. Foam is easiest for this because you can see the areas you've gone over really well.

-Shaving removes the top layer of your skin also, and that layer helps keep moisture in. Every time you shave, you are losing moisture. Make sure to lotion or moisturize somehow BEFORE and AFTER you shave each time. This is what aftershave is for. Ideally you would do this daily, even when you arent going to shave that day. The more hydrated your skin is, the less likely you are to razor burn or to cut yourself. Bouncy hydrated skin is stronger than dry cracked skin.

-Go AGAINST the grain of the hair. Your hair usually grows in a downward direction, pointing at the floor. That means you start each stroke with your razor at the BOTTOM and then go UPWARDS. If you go the other way, with the grain, youre not really shaving so much as...petting your hair with a blade. You know how you only pet a cat in one direction? Its like that.

-Single blades disposable razors are cheapest, but the more blades you have, the better shave youll get. I prefer 3 or 4 blade disposable razors. Buy from the mens section- theyre cheaper than womens razors, even though theyre basically the same thing. Some razors have soap built into the razor itself. Thats good, but its NOT ENOUGH lubricant. You still need to add more soap/foam/cream when you shave.

-If your disposable razor tugs you, has rusty spots, or runs out of its little soap bar, throw it away. Using a dull or rusted razor makes you more likely to cut yourself or give yourself an infection. It is NOT WORTH IT to keep using an unsafe razor.

-If you dont like disposables, I would invest in a good rechargable electric mens razor. I cant recommend one unfortunately because I dont use this kind.

-If scented products irritate your skin, dont use a scented soap or aftershave. Use a "fragrance free" (not "unscented," they dont mean the same thing) soap, lotion, and deodorant. I like arm and hammer products for this.

-Always wash your razor after use to get the little hairs out of it. Dry it and then spray with isopropyl alcohol or even hand sanitizer to sanitize it. Keep it somewhere dry if possible, like in your bathroom cabinet, not in the shower, to prevent rusting.

-Be considerate to whoever you share a bathroom with. Try to put a piece of paper towel or a drain catch down so hair doesnt go down the drain, then throw the hair into the trash. Don't flush it, dont rinse it down if you can help it. Hair is bad for drains and pipes. Wipe up the sink or shower afterwards to not leave hair bits behind.

-If you cut yourself shaving, dont panic. Water makes blood expand, so being wet and getting cut often makes it look worse than it is. Take a clean damp cloth and pat the wound clear of soap. Take a paper towel or piece of gauze and apply pressure to the wound for a couple minutes until bleeding slows. Then apply an antibacterial ointment to a bandaid and put it on. If your razor still seems safe (not chipped or rusted) you can continue shaving the rest of the body part. Getting cut in one place doesnt necessarily mean youll cut yourself again.

-Gentle pressure, always. Gentle pressure and multiple passes over an area is better than one pass where youre pressing down really hard and gouge yourself.

-If you have areas where you want shorter hair but not to remove the hair (pubic mound for example), instead of shaving, trim with scissors. In the case of trimming you dont need the soap, but still take time to wash and sanitize your tools before and after. You aren't shaving away a layer of skin in this case so lotion is optional.

I hope I answered most basic shaving questions! Of you want to know anything specific, please feel free to ask, even if it sounds "obvious" or maybe TMI. I didnt have a male figure to teach me to shave, and I know a lot of trans dudes may also not have that older male teacher figure in their lives. We dudes gotta stick together and help where we can.

[betweendawnanddark]

@lightheartedislandboy

He felt Sora's breathing even out, smoothing into something calmer and more regular. Riku really had no idea that it would lead him back into a state closer to calm too, but he didn't really feel the weight and tension start unwinding from his gut until he heard the laugh. Not forced, not fake, just quiet. That was more than enough.

Finally looking again, taking the opportunity to study each other, he supposed he didn't make a secret out of his eyes lingering on Sora's own gaze, just... making sure. The smile was right. Everything wasn't all better, obviously, but it had improved. Except-- "Are you saying I look tired?" Toneless though he'd tried to make the words, there was no way he could hide the hint of a smile that came with a mild sense of relief. He did look tired, he knew he did from every mirror he avoided. He was. "Fair."

There was a little more effort needed to actually unwind his arms from Sora than he cared to admit to himself, but it was alright. He was alright. Still-- "Yeah." Truth be told, he didn't exactly want to leave the room alone. It was such a natural, simple gesture that he hadn't even thought about it, didn't realize he'd already done it until they were in sight of the pilot's chair: he simply took Sora's hand and lead him. No contact lost, no time spent apart--

And only the hint of a flush on his cheeks as he made the realization. Even then, it was less about having hold of Sora's hand and more that the pilot and passenger seats seemed a little too far apart. There was a way to rearrange them, of course, but he hadn't been paying that much attention to what seemed unnecessary; piloting the ship was the fun part, and his landing record was mostly flawless.

Well, they could... let go. For a minute. Giving Sora's hand a squeeze before heading for the pilot's chair, Riku suggested, "You can... point out an asteroid you like to land on? If you want?" Which lead to a mild snort at his own awkwardness.

Heaven. Feeling weightless, even if just for a few moments. His mind having since quieted. Riku's fingers toying with the hair on the nape of his neck. His heartbeat.

Sora could focus on all this now. Without interruption. Without something terrible popping into his mind, at least for now. And he was cherishing it.

He let out a soft laugh, more of a huff, at the mention of Kairi. She'd definitely have more than a few words to say to them if they just ran off without a word. And she'd understand the need for some time alone. She needed some too.

Getting some sleep, surrounded by sparkling stars, the vastness of space...it made him smile. A weight lifted itself off his shoulders. He knew the journey back would take a while, but he still wasn't in the mood for giving a mission report or anything like that. At least they could...procrastinate. In the name of rest. Of course.

He hummed. "Sleep sounds great," he said. "All this running around...I know you're tired, too." He looked at Riku, watched him fondly for a few seconds. Noticed the bags under his eyes. But he didn't say anything, just smiled again.

He wanted to reach out, touch his face. Hold Riku like he was holding him now. He didn't.

When Riku began to rise from his seat, Sora followed. "I'll go with you." For some reason, he didn't want to be apart. Even if Riku were close by. Still...

He followed.

[laniidae-passerine]

don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man