#this is nonsense i promise to eventually have more coherent thoughts

[madaqueue]

i’m sure at some point i will have more thoughts but rn i’m just…sad (jjk spoilers below)

satoru never had an easy life, i think. sometimes i almost forget how young he was when all this shit happened to him, being forced into a life without anyone asking what he wanted. when you’re ripped of your autonomy, told to “be useful,” of course you start to bleed into those expectations. you force yourself into the most convenient shape, let yourself be melded into whatever anyone else needs. a leader, a teacher, a symbol.

but he was just a person. a fucking kid, at the start. a kid who lost people he cared about, who took in so much pain and suffering that it had to ache, it had to sit heavy in his chest.

and he said he didn’t mind whatever happened to him, that he just wanted those he cared about to succeed and live a brighter future.

and they will, because of him.

but who’s there to care for him?

anyways i saw this panel from hidden inventory and it made me cry bc he just looks so young, it really hit me how unfair everything was for him from the start. he’s just a goddamn kid

i just wish i could tell him that people cared about him. that he could know how loved he was by those around him, till the very end

[dnfao3tags]

Monthly Fic Roundup - May 2023

ok look man this is the third fucking time i've had to redo this entire post i dont give a shit anymore i hate tumblr i hope it and i die a very painful death does anybody have any idea how hard it is to edit these things with the shittiest site and shittiest laptop in the world

anyways. nobody reminded me i forgot about mays roundup. betrayal. leave all the writers here a warm kudos and comment :]

— find me here by womanhunt (mat. | comp. | 9k)

Dream and George through various phone calls across time.

— All paths lead to you by Simplysmitten (teen | comp. | 28k)

When George is stressed, he has nightmares, and when George has nightmares, he sleepwalks. In a subconscious search for relief, George sleepwalks to the safest place he can find- Dream's room. Dream finds out more than he bargained for when trying to decode George's nonsensical sleep-talking, but he struggles to make conscious-George as comforted by his presence as unconscious-George.

— i want you, and that’s the way it is by pondsofkoi (gen | comp. | 4k)

Sometimes George combs his hair with enough force Dream thinks he’s trying to yank his scalp out. “Dude.”

— a wish, a child by heartinhands (teen | comp. | 3k)

George wants a child. If he and Dream wish hard enough, there's a chance.

— every sunset by indigoh (mat. | comp. | 10k)

when George goes to sleep, it’s June 2020. When he wakes up, it’s 8 years into the future.

Part 2 of the past, the future, and everything in between

— what a childish thing by tippysleeps (teen | comp. | 7k)

“What year is it,” George repeats. “Um,” Dream frowns. “It’s 2020?” George just stares at him. “It’s 2027,” he says, finally. “2027.”

Part 1 of not afraid of living on a faultline

— Some Other Beginning's End by Scoops (consciousness_streaming) (expl. | comp. | 5k)

George's family takes a holiday to Orlando to visit Disney. Just before George is set to meet Dream, disaster strikes in the form of a werewolf pack taking over Florida, and maybe more of America. While George struggles to survive, scavenging for food and materials for the few survivors, and at the end of his rope--a miracle happens. He might get to meet Dream after all.

— falling in love in the cruelest way by twostorms (teen | comp. | 7k)

Dream can't remember a time where he wasn't at least a little obsessed with George.

— Maw by shrewtz (expl. | comp. | 1k)

To combine their two selves in one way or another, to blur the line between hunger and arousal, to consume a piece of his lover— would it not be the most romantic gesture possible?

— when you kiss my lips, you'll make it stick by demonstars (mat. | comp. | 6k)

Dream's hero's (MUA) journey.

— Can you make it feel like home (if I tell you you're mine?) by JanetBaby99 (expl. | comp. | 19k)

Dream and George go on a road trip together and the tension between them becomes too much. Eventually, it snaps, and they can’t keep their hands to themselves any longer.

— unbreakable heaven by furculaed (teen | comp. | 5k)

“I didn’t mean for it to get so messy,” she breathes, “I thought we could, I don’t know, just do whatever and we’d be okay. I can live with just this, I promise. I can do with nothing, even. I don’t know. Just don’t ask me to stop.” Dream’s breath stops right at her chest. “Stop what, George?” “You know,” she whispers. George looks at Dream, beautiful and breaking at the seams. “Don’t make me say it, Dream. You know,” George begs.

— fall into me by havocrat (teen | comp. | 7k)

Handing the tube back, Georgina smacks her lips together, and they make a little pop sound. It’s a weird feeling, a little sticky, but she kind of likes it. She wonders if it’s anything like kissing Dream for real. “Nice chapstick,” she says, and her voice comes out a little hoarse. Dream’s throat bobs, and she wets her lips again. “Yeah?” “Yeah. Tastes good, too.” She’s aware she sounds like an idiot, but this is the only coherent thought in her head right now, the only thought that isn’t about Dream’s lips and Dream’s mouth and indirect kisses and direct kisses and– God. She needs to get out of there, before she does something they both regret.

— right through your bones by dizzy (teen | comp. | 3k)

George tries to kiss Dream, and it doesn't go as planned.

— tall man’s burden by alreadyhateyou (expl. | comp. | 4k)

Clearly Dream is tall, clearly Dream is taller and bigger than George, in a lot of ways. Clearly, George is really into this. First it’s Dream’s hands, then his shoulders and chest and thighs. Soon it’s everything. Soon George finds out Dream is big everywhere.

— what a fucked up reality show by brokenlikeastitch (teen | comp. | 13k)

“Have you started studying for the map quizzes?” George asks, shoving some of her stuff over to clear the table in front of the chair next to her like she’s making room for Dream. It’s bizarre, and Dream is caught off guard at the sudden conversation. She’s not sure what exactly she was going to say to George, but now she’s even more unsure what to say. “Not yet, I don’t really like thinking about that class.” George giggles, pushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear as she does. “Me neither, but I don’t want to fail them because I think I’ll jump off a cliff if I have to take this class again, so.” The giggle makes Dream feel a little faint, and she sits down in the offered seat just to make sure she doesn’t accidentally actually fall out in the library in front of everyone.

— This Ambiguous Edge by Amoxil (expl. | comp. | 21k)

Dream and George don’t care about the label. For months, they do everything that couples do. Everything but sex. George is patient, but Dream’s beginning to skirt the line. George wants to see how far he can push him.

— it isn't new (but it's still you) by mocharex (teen | comp. | 15k)

The slow shift from friends to fiancés to having a family together may take years, but, luckily enough, Dream and George have all the time in the world.

— Reasons Not To Be An Idiot by VicIsWriting (expl. | comp. | 30k)

Dream and George– they used to be friends. Sandbox besties, cradle to grave, ride-or-die kind of friends. Now they’re nothing, just strangers on a college campus who barely look in each other’s direction as they pass by, neutral recognition in both their eyes. When their friendship is revived, something new develops too.

— get busy waiting by alreadyhateyou (expl. | comp. | 17k)

Dream claims he wants to wait until marriage, and while George does his best to respect his wishes, it seems like all Dream does is make them both so, so horny.

if you want a rec of your own on next month's roundup, send it in!

[5ro4]

Dark makes no sense [Spoilers of the whole show]

I thought Netflix’s Dark season 3 was disappointing, boring and made no sense. From its first few chapters I was wishing for it to end already, but it kept going, simultaneously being a convoluted exposition dump while actually explaining nothing, then pulling an ending out of nowhere long after I had stopped caring.

It’s kinda hard to find proper criticism for the series last season; most people just praise how it’s the best possible ending and everything makes perfect sense, so I decided to write my thoughts and criticism.

I’ll clarify that I enjoyed seasons 1 and 2 a lot. They are convoluted in a good and interesting way, where everything seems to fit nicely together, to have been properly planned all along, and it carries the promise that the deeper mysteries that remain will be explained later on.

But then season 3 happens. I still think overall it’s a good show, interesting and worth watching, but season 3 is disappointing and the show as a whole is certainly no “perfectly written masterpiece”.

Massive spoilers from now on.

Even if it made logical sense, season 3 is bad.

Most of the charm of the first 2 seasons is watching how every action fits in a single linear timeline and how every cause had an unexpected consequence that makes the timeline more and more complex while maintaining perfect coherence. It’s hard to follow, but it’s doable.

Then season 3 ruins the charm by making everything so convoluted it’s impossible to follow and unsatisfactory to even try.

Complexity is enjoyable up to the point where anything can happen. Why would you still care then? How could you? A mystery is intriguing because it needs to be explained by the rules of the world; the rules you know and are able to follow. If the explanation could be “a witch did it”, then none of the mysteries would be intriguing.

So we have a character that dies, and it’s intriguing because we know he’s alive in the future, so how can this be possible? Well, there’s actually 2 parallel worlds, so he’s alive in the other world. It’s a surprising twist, but the rules have been broken; now almost every mystery can be explained by the existence of a parallel world.

But then a character dies in both worlds! How can that be? Well, in the second world there’s actually two intertwined timelines, so they died in one of them but no the other.

How are you supposed to care about anything that happens from this point onward? No mystery is that mysterious when the possibility of a convoluted explanation involving multiple worlds and timelines is always there. And why even bother trying to make sense of it when they could pull out a fourth timeline or a third parallel world at any moment (and they actually do)?

Character’s motivations are impossible to follow because everyone is lying and being double-crossed by alternate reality characters all the time.

Half of the characters you are following now aren’t even the original characters but their versions from another world or another timeline inside that second world, so it’s really difficult to keep caring about any of them.

I’m not even going to attempt to criticize any of the fine details or possible loose ends because when characters can jump between timelines and realities at any time and all of them are either lying or being lied to, I’m pretty sure that by watching the show 3 times and reading the wiki you could find some plausible explanation for any small inconsistency, but at this level of complexity who even cares.

However, I think there are major, big picture flaws that somehow seem to have gone over most people’s head.

1.- The end is the beginning, therefore every action is an explanation for itself.

Most of the plot and almost the entirety of season 3 could be summed up as: A ton of people do nonsensical things because they know their future selves did those things, so they must repeat them because time is linear (except in the end it isn’t).

The bootstrap paradox is the cheap way this show has to explain any mystery and any character motivation: It happened the first time, so it must happen the second one too. Since this is a loop with no beginning, there is no need for any action to have had a logical explanation at one point.

It becomes useless to try to understand why any of the main mysterious characters do anything or what their plan is, because it can always be explained (and often does) as just “this is what happened the first time, so it must happen the second one too”.

There’s a point where one character is compelled to kill himself just because a character from the future saw him kill himself, so he must kill himself now so the future is consistent, even though there was never an actual reason for him to kill himself.

This is cheap and lazy because you can have any character doing any mysterious thing and no explanation is needed. Why do Noah and Helge drop dead kids at specific times and locations? Because they are just repeating what their future selves did, and since the loop has no beginning, no original reason exists.

2.- Adam, Eve and Claudia’s plans and motivations make no sense.

Adam and Eve’s motivations, and to some extent Claudia’s, are extremely unclear. They are the ones who explain to everyone else how time and parallel worlds work, except they are always lying and opposing their younger selves, and they are actually wrong about how all of it works.

This makes it hard to actually know what their actual motivations are, since the show doesn’t clearly show when and how they arrived at their current understanding of the world. It’s somewhat clear what they are trying to do, but not why they are trying to do so or what makes them so confident about their knowledge.

The show presents Adam and Eva as opposing forces trying to control time, while Claudia helps one or the other at different times for different reasons, yet most of the time all of them are actually doing exactly the same thing: Trying to make everything happen as it happened the last time.

So the story goes something like this: Following Adam’s instructions, Young Jonas tries to change the past by preventing himself from being born. Claudia stops him, tells him he must fight against Adam and therefore he can’t stop existing, so he must let history repeat itself. Jonas works alongside Claudia and somehow eventually ends up becoming Adam, whose plan, according to the Dark Wiki (dark-netflix.fandom.com) is to keep the cycle going.

This makes no sense, but that last part is actually wrong, at least to some extent, which shows that even the people writing the wiki don’t really know Adam’s motivations.

By the end of the show, it’s clear what is the ultimate thing each of them are trying to accomplish: Adam wants to destroy both worlds, Eve wants to keep the cycle going to avoid Adam destroying the worlds, and Claudia wants to save her daughter in at least one world. None of them seems to actually care about the apocalypse, although that was supposed to be the main conflict to avoid.

But how did Adam and Eve reach those conclusions? That’s never properly explained and their whole development seems nonsensical and contradictory: They try to change the past as their younger selves, they grow old trying and realize it’s impossible, so they turn around and try to prevent their younger selves from changing it.

At every chance they had to actually change the past someone appeared to stop them or convinced them not to do it, yet they somehow end up with the belief that time cannot be changed, while simultaneously doing their best effort to ensure time is not changed.

This is a total contradiction. Either you think time can be changed and try to do so, or you think time can’t be changed and do nothing about people trying, since you don’t need to prevent anyone from doing what you believe to be impossible.

Adam’s plan is to kill Martha and her baby, since her son is who ultimately will put the whole cycle in motion. If he is successful, he will create a paradox where the cycle was never put in motion therefore none of them exist, and thus they will cease to exist*. To do so, he needs to make pregnant-Martha go through a time travel portal because quantum shenanigans say that’s the only way to remove her baby from existence.

* “A paradox happens therefore we suddenly stop existing” makes no logical sense, but since it’s a common trope, let’s ignore it for now.

Eva knows of Adam’s plan and disagrees. For some not properly explained reason, she would rather have and infinite loop of people repeating their same miserable lives rather than ending the loop and making them disappear,  thinking this is equal to them never existing, although they clearly existed. There might also be motherly instincts mixed in; the love for the son she is never shown having a conversation with before turning him into a murder machine to prevent him from not existing.

Eva’s plan is pretty stupid and evil, while Adam’s plan is contradictory, since he is preventing people from changing the past or creating a paradox in order for him to create a particular paradox as a last resource after failing to change the past.

Meanwhile Claudia is trying to repeat the timeline with the intention of actually changing everything at some point, but I don’t care to try and guess what her plan actually was all along.

3.- There’s no way Claudia could get her final revelation.

The characters are supposedly repeating the same cycle over and over, so nothing should actually change, but let’s say it can somehow because they explain something about moving grains of sand.

Concluding that a third world must exist because “there’s always a third dimension” is already a wild logical jump, but even so, how could she ever conclude that the third world was an original one that got destroyed and divided into two parallel realities, and that the reason was the clockmaker failed to make a time machine? It is completely impossible for her to conclude such things.

4.- The creation of the two worlds makes no sense.

So, there was an original world. A clockmaster tries to make a time machine, but instead destroys his world creating… two parallel worlds with 3 timelines that are interconnected in an extremely convoluted loop without beginning? And neither of those worlds actually spawns from the moment he activates the time machine, since he is intercepted years before that by those world’s time travelers?

This is a total cop-out that’s not a better explanation than “magic”. A dude made a machine that destroyed the world and spawned 3 seasons of a completely arbitrary but conveniently interconnected mystery thriller.

5.- Time rules are inconsistent

There’s a scene in which time is proven to be so deterministic that Jonas is literally immortal. He can't be killed because that’s not the place and time where he’s supposed to die in. This is both dumb and inconsistent.

The concept makes sense to a certain extent: If the character is alive in the future, it means he didn’t die in the past. However, that only works as long as the character is not trying to kill himself to prove a point. It only works somewhat elegantly in the show because Jonas accepts it as truth and doesn’t try to push it further, but what if he didn’t? What if he kept trying to kill himself just because he knows he can’t? Would knives break and guns keep getting jammed? It’s dumb because it implies time is a sentient being that will go out of its way to prevent things that aren’t supposed to happen from happening.

Also, it’s inconsistent because it’s latter confirmed that the past can in fact be changed.

6.- Conflicting beliefs are held at the same time.

Eva devotes her life to ensure everything happens as it should happen while simultaneously being 100% sure things will happen in the present as they happened in the future and there’s no way to avoid that. She is dumbfounded when Adam doesn’t kill her the moment he was supposed to kill her.

I’m pretty sure Adam and Claudia hold these same contradicting beliefs at one point or another, simultaneously believing the past can’t change while making their best effort to ensure it doesn’t change.

7.- Time stopped for a brief moment.

Claudia literally says that time stopped for a brief moment when the clockmaster activated his time machine or something.

Think about that. She’s telling you that time stopped during a small  period of time. She's using time to mesure the lack of time.

Also, how could she ever know if time was stopped and for how long (hah), and how does it make any sense that her plan is to do something while time is stopped.

8.- Deep meaningful answers for the gullible.

This is not a plot hole, just a criticism to the writing and the development of the plot: Almost every time a character makes a crucial question to the character that holds the answer, they either don’t respond because of the bootstrap paradox (“my future self didn’t explain it to you so now that I’m in the same situation I won’t explain it either to avoid changing the past”) or they quote a philosopher or something in an attempt to seem deep while giving a non-answer that’s completely unrelated to the current conversation.

This is an actual conversation from the show:

- Why are you storing barrels full of nuclear waste inside an underground cave? - What we know is a drop, what we don't know is an ocean.

OK! No more questions then!

9.- Blind trust in the wrong person.

This is also a relatively minor nitpick I just want to get off my chest.

Characters, particularly Jonas and Martha, blindly trust anyone who appears before them and tell them they have been lied to, even after discovering that the last three people who supposedly revealed the truth to them was actually lying too.

This could still be believable given the circumstances until we get to the point when they would rather trust a total stranger over their future selves. Why would you trust anyone over your future self? Even if they are lying, you will become them in the future; their plan will be your plan, no matter how hard is it to understand now. Yet Jonas doesn’t require any proof from Claudia before trusting her completely over Adam.

10.- Why are Jonas and Martha needed to stop the cycle?

This is never actually explained beyond some vague idea of them being at the center of everything. Claudia could have traveled to the original world herself. Jonas could have done it too without taking Martha with him.

How do they even tune the machine to take them to a world that no longer exists?

11.- The whole time tunnel with Jonas and Martha?

???

12.- The resolution is a paradox, and thus impossible.

In order to stop time travel from ever existing they need to travel in time and prevent time travel from being created, thus making their existence a paradox, which makes them slowly disappear in a cloud of gold dust.

I know this was done for the visual spectacle, but still.

So much struggle against determinism, so many exposition dumps, so much care to make every piece fit perfectly in the timeline, just for the final resolution to be a blatant paradox. Pretty, but not really fitting.

Even though multiple universes with multiple timelines are shown to exist, somehow the rules of time only allow for a single timeline to exist in the end, even if that timeline contains an impossible paradox.

[mst3kproject]

Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow

This movie has no dogs, which is a shame because the title definitely sounds like a lost episode of Scooby-Doo.  What it does have is Elaine Dupont from I Was a Teenage Werewolf (and the Beach Girls and the Monster) and Russ Bender from It Conquered the World (he also wrote Voodoo Woman, which makes him indirectly responsible for Curse of the Swamp Creature), in a genre crossover that reminds one of Catalina Caper and is even less successful. It’s also even less funny.

Our heroes are a bunch of super-cool hot-rodding thirty-year-old fifties teens who speak in painfully embarrassing slang. They’ve been evicted from their headquarters and need some new digs, but all their efforts to find a place have come to naught… until an elderly lady offers them her house at Dragstrip Hollow. It sounds like it’ll have everything they need, as long as they don’t mind that it’s haunted.  The gang is a little unnerved by strange events their first evening at the house, but ultimately decide that if nothing else, it’s the perfect place for a Hallowe’en party.  What they haven’t realized is that with everybody in costumes, the monster in the basement will be able to walk among them un-noticed!

This is yet another movie that sounds like a good time but is actually almost unwatchably boring.  A party in a haunted house with a monster who just wants to have a good time?  I’m up for that!  But Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow is only an hour long, and spends most of that time dithering around doing absolutely nothing.

There are two potential main characters.  One is Lois, a young woman who’s far more interested in cars and racing than in boys and makeup, much to her parents’ chagrin. Her mother believes this is a phase she’ll grow out of, but her father keeps trying to encourage her to be more feminine and never gets very far.  This sublot drops out of the movie halfway through, without ever coming to any kind of conclusion.  Lois is also at odds with Nita, a member of a rival racing gang.  Lois spends most of the movie refusing to be goaded into a racing rematch with Nita, but eventually gives in, and their climactic race takes place off-screen while we watch the band at the Hallowe’en party try to play their instruments while dressed as bedsheet ghosts!  Nothing comes of it.

The only thing Nita’s gang does through the whole movie is show up at parties they haven’t been invited to, exchange insults with Lois’ friends, and then leave.

The other potential hero is the reporter who’s doing a series of articles on rebellious teenagers.  He quickly makes friends with the kids, becoming an honourary member of their club, and apparently helps them search for a new headquarters. In spite of this, he doesn’t actually have an arc.  He sympathizes with these young people from the beginning, and based on the questions he asks it’s pretty clear he wants to show that their cars and racing are a harmless hobby rather than a gateway drug to crime.  This opinion doesn’t change over the course of the movie.  Neither does his insistence that the house is not actually haunted, even as unseen hands light his cigarette for him and untie his bow tie.

Most of the movie is totally useless – like the slumber party at Lois’ house, which serves no purpose except to make a joke about women taking too long in the bathroom.  I’m sure that was already tired and unfunny in the 50’s. Or the old lady’s opinionated pet parrot, who provides annoying commentary that makes already not-funny scenes even less funny.  I was sure the parrot was going to be a plot point, because one of his demonstrated talents is imitating a police siren and the hot rodders are worried about getting in trouble with the cops.  Surely during a climactic race the parrot will trick Nita into pulling over, allowing Lois to take the lead!  But no, that can’t happen because that would be useful.  Nothing in this fucking movie is allowed to be useful.

All of this bullshit, with the slumber party and the stupid parrot and the old lady being bad at playing the flute… and the rival gang showing up and then leaving… and the musical numbers, one of which has no lyrics except a guy saying Geronimo! and then firing blanks at the ceiling, and this is played twice… and Lois’ parents and the reporter hanging around and the short guy with the tall girlfriend… all of this drags on and on and on and takes up three quarters of the movie and has literally nothing to do with the plot!  The fact that the club needs a new place to hang out is introduced pretty early but then gets shoved aside until almost the end.  You’d think we ought to see them trying to find a place until eventually being forced to settle for the creepy old house in the middle of nowhere, but no, we sit through forty minutes of nonsense and then suddenly arrive at characters talking about it.

The haunted house must be the actual plot because it’s the title, but it isn’t worth waiting for.  When the club arrives to take a look around, there is indeed a monster creeping around causing mischief.  And it’s definitely a monster, not a ghost – although there is also a ghost. In fact, when we get a good look at the beast shortly thereafter… it’s the fucking She-Creature.

I’m not even kidding.  It is literally the She-Creature without the dumbass blonde wig and with the chitinous tits toned down into chitinous pecs.  This thing creeps around and growls at people, then turns up at the party to dance with a couple of girls before getting its mask ripped off (I told you this was an episode of Scooby-Doo!) to reveal, and I promise you I did not make this up, I could not make this up, a bitter stuntman with a high squeaky voice. He looks a little like Lois’ father and I thought for a moment we were doing a Beach Girls and the Monster thing here… but no, he’s a totally different character.  Why is he dressed up as a monster haunting this old house with a collection of special effects equipment he keeps behind the fireplace?  Because nobody appreciated his performance as the She-Creature.

He actually says that.  Fuck this movie!  The monster suit isn’t even bad enough to be funny.  In fact, it looks better here than it did in The She-Creature or Voodoo Woman, possibly because the lighting allows us to actually see it!

Oh, and as I mentioned, there’s also a ghost, but he left because he didn’t like the rock and roll music.

In order to find the creature’s secret lair, they ask ‘Amelia’, the nerdy guy’s superintelligent, talking, self-driving hot rod.  This machine speaks in a deep, somewhat ghostly voice, and isn’t mentioned or even hinted at until the movie’s almost over.  People accidentally blundering into secret rooms behind the fireplace is a time-honoured tradition in movies, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow.  No, they had to have a deus-ex-machina supercomputer fire-breathing car figure it out without even saying what the clues were.  Fuck!

I’ve watched several films for this blog that left me with the impression that the people making them knew what parts go into a movie but not how to put them together.  I don’t think the makers of Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow even knew what movies are made of – or if they did, they were actively contemptuous of that ingredients list.  Their film seems to have been cobbled together from bits of several stories, without including enough of any single one to really get a plot.  Remember Face of the Screaming Werewolf, which really was made of random bits of two other movies?  Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow is about as coherent as that.  It feels like there’s at least another hour of material missing somewhere, which would deal with things like Lois’ relationship with her parents or the rivalry between the two racing clubs.  It feels like anything that would help unify this story, or bring proper closure to any of the plotlines, was deliberately left on the cutting room floor, just to piss me off!

I only laughed once in the entire movie, at a bit where the parrot complains about his mistress’ bad driving (he wails and me so young!).  The rest of the time I couldn’t even find it ironically funny.  When I wasn’t rolling my eyes at the attempted jokes I was staring at the screen in bafflement because I couldn’t figure out what the movie was trying to do. What ought to be plot points are quickly forgotten, or else resolved with nonsensical trifles and then thrown away. The result is confusing and ultimately deeply frustrating.  I mentioned Scooby-Doo, but that’s not even a fair comparison, because the unmasking of the villain in Scooby-Doo always includes the reveal of a master plan.  The monster in Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow is just fucking around.

I hate this movie.  It’s not even a movie.  It’s just a bunch of unrelated things that happen to the same set of characters, without even any laughs to make it worth watching.  They could have filmed an hour of their asses pressed up against a windowpane, and it would have annoyed me less.

[amazedforjjk]

Escape 2 - Ot7

The gif is not mine! If you’re the owner please tell me!

Characters: Lion!Namjoon, Jaguar!Jin, Black panther!Yoongi, Cheetah!Hoseok, Snow Leopard!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, cougar!Jungkook, Serval!Reader

Summary: In a world where Hybrid protection laws are gradually strengthening, many organisations are still advocating for the complete extermination of your species. What happens when you find yourself and 7 other predatory hybrids in a truck en route to a hybrid slaughter facility?

Genre: Angst (?), Humour (I tried 😔, ok?)

Warning: Mentions of abuse, abandon, bruises

A.N: Welcome to chapter 2 of Escape! You guys seemed to enjoy the first one so here we go! Also, there’s a Jackson Wang cameo, because it wouldn’t be a real bts au without Jackson.

Word count : 3.9k

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The sun is high in the sky when you finally wake. As comfortable as the moss may have seemed in your state of extreme fatigue last night, your body aches when you sit up. Your eyes are still heavy when you glance around you, one of the few to actually be awake. You meet the lion hybrid’s gaze, his bruises having partially healed during the night. If he is now able to fully open his eyes, the yellowish shade of his skin a painful reminder of the violence he must have endured. Unlike you, he doesn’t look comatose while he busies himself picking berries off a nearby bush.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” you question groggily, voice hoarse from lack of use.

He chuckles at your dazed state before responding.

“These are black berries, we should be fine. Besides, we need to eat something if we have to walk today”

As if on cue, your stomach rumbles, making you look away flustered. He looks at you with a sly grin, revealing his dimples, before returning to his task. You note that he doesn’t seem to put his weight on his right side. He must still be limping then, you conclude. How is he going to walk in that state?

When Dimples comes back, most of the hybrids are awake, the black panther the only one still peacefully slumbering. The lion places his poor harvest on the moss before you, and you can swear you saw him blush as the other hybrids eye the meager breakfast.

“Well… It’s a start” Hope says, a forced smile on his lips as he tries to console the abashed lion. You have to repress a chuckle at the look of uncertainty on Blondie’s face, probably wondering how the fuck are eight predator hybrids going to last a day on these berries alone.

“Right… Well, dig in, we need to walk today” replies Dimples, shaking the black panther back to consciousness.

The light meal is quickly ingested, and as predicted, it isn't nearly enough to fill any of you. It’s with a nearly empty stomach that the lot of you leaves the cover of trees, walking on the fields. None of you knows what direction to take, but it’s a consensus that you should try to get as far as possible from the road. 

We should find something eventually, had said Wide Shoulders, and it’s on that mindset that you all trail in a line through the fields. The start of the journey is silent, and you are certainly not brave enough to start a discussion.

Sometime during the journey, you are lucky enough to pass through a corn field, taking ears of corn to eat now and save some for the night. Besides the odd pauses, the day is spent walking in silence, all of you seemingly consumed by your thoughts.

It’s only when the sun starts to set that Wide Shoulders suddenly stops and breaks the silence.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing ahead. Your gaze follows the direction of his hand and you gasp.

“A house!” exclaims the youngest male, and the tiger shouts in victory.

“Maybe they can help us!” it’s Hope’s time to be excited, looking expectantly at the lion hybrid. The latter looks exhausted, and during the trek you could tell he was trying his best not to show his pain.

“Yeah, or they can call the police on us, and it’s back to square one.” spits the black panther, “What do you think, humans here are not exactly friendly, did you forget?” His eyes are dark, and his lips pull back in a snarl.

The reminder is like a cold shower, and any hope that might have appeared in the young hybrids' eyes quickly vanishes.

“We have to give it a shot”, you say, trying to sound firm. All eyes are on you now. You gulp.

“We have nowhere to go, and it’s not like we’ll be able to survive very long on corn” you finish, eyes falling to the ground under the intense gaze of the men surrounding you.

The next few seconds of silence seem to last an eternity before Dimples finally speaks.

“She’s right”, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “We’re all in bad shape, and there’s no other shelter around us. We’ll assess the situation when we're closer.”

“And what if they refuse to help us?”

“Then… We’ll have to run away as fast as we can”, the lion lets out a big breath, “But I don’t think we’ll bear sleeping outside and barely sustaining ourselves for too long”

“We don’t have much of a choice here, do we?” sighs the black panther, though by the look of resignation on his face, you understand that he already knows the answer. He sighs again and resumes walking, prompting the rest of the group to follow.

The prospect of help seems to give all of you a boost of energy, and you're almost running when you reach the outskirts of the property before you. The lone house stands tall, surrounded by miles of land and a barn. Vine climbs up the pillars supporting the porch, giving it an inviting look. Under the porch is a wooden swing chair, ever so slightly swaying in the wind, and in front of the house white roses are in bloom. The light coming from the window assures that the residence is indeed occupied. You smell the scents of two humans - wait no, a human and a dog hybrid?- a light sweet vanilla scent and a earthy fragrance.

“I only smell two people here” you say, all senses focused on the large house, “and one of them’s a hybrid”

“You’re right! Maybe that means they’ll help us!” the tiger exclaims next to you, and you can’t help the small smile that creeps on your lips. He’s cute when he’s happy…

“Let’s ask them if we can stay in the barn”, Wide Shoulders says, and he turns to you.

“You should be the one asking. We’ll be right behind you”

“What- Why me?”, you question, incredulous.

“You’ll have a higher power of persuasion”, he answers, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Fine...”, you sigh, turning to Blondie. “But you’re coming with me too”

The shy hybrid’s innocent eyes widen, and he stammers in panic.

“Wh-What?!”

“Power of persuasion darling, you heard the man” you say casually, making the blond boy blush. You start to make your way towards the door when you notice the man is still frozen in place.

“Let’s go Blondie, it’ll be fine I promise” you grab him by the hand and walk up to the entrance.

“Blondie…?”, he mutters to himself, interrupted by your knocking on the door.

You hear the chatter inside come to an abrupt stop, and you suddenly feel self-conscious, the fear you had buried now gnawing at your insides. Your instincts are telling you to run and you’re close to follow them when the door swiftly opens.

Before you stands an old woman, the signs of time having carved her face. She is smaller than you, but you feel small underneath her hard gaze, reduced to stammering, unable to form a coherent sentence. She takes you in, eyeing your poor state and she immediately softens.

“Oh my, sweety, what happened to you?” she coos, and you don’t have time to respond before she starts talking again, “And look at you, you poor thing” This time the comment is directed towards the blond hybrid, his cheeks tinted pink yet again.

Her eyes finally find the six hybrids behind you and her face falls. You finally recover the ability to talk.

“Please Madam, we need a place to sleep. Can you spare us your barn for the night? I swear we won’t-” At your words, she quickly regains her composure and looks at you with fierce eyes. You almost think she’s going to refuse when she grabs your hand and pulls you in.

“The barn?! Nonsense! Come in!”

Astonished, you let yourself be led into a large room as the small woman pushes in hybrids three heads taller than her. You glance around the place, taking in the warm decor. You’re standing in the entrance, and before you is a big wooden table surrounded by chairs. To the left, you can see what you believe is the living room. The room is spacious, a large L-shaped leather couch facing the big fireplace against the back wall. In between, a large round coffee table adorns magazines and photos, though you’re too far to distinguish the people in the photos.

To the right of the table is a big open kitchen, in yellow to orange tones. The room smells like chicken and your stomach suddenly feels very empty. You continue your visual tour to distract yourself from the delicious aroma. You finally notice the man leaned against the counter, holding a mug. No, not a man, you observe, a dog hybrid. He looks at you quizzically, and when your gaze meets his, he smirks playfully at your bemused state. The tall man sports sand colored ears, and the wag of his tail betrays his excitement. You open your mouth to start talking when the old woman’s piercing voice comes from the door.

“Jackson! Be a dear and find these young men some clothes to wear! Show them where the guest bathrooms are, they clearly need a good scrub”, she chuckles. Besides you, you can see your travel companions lower their heads, clearly embarrassed. She comes in front of you and resumes talking, this time addressing you.

“I was fixing dinner before you came in. I’ll show you where you can clean up darling, then I’ll make more food”. She almost looks excited at the task ahead. She then looks at the eight of you, her face serious.

“You’ll tell me later what happened. For now, just know that you’re safe. You’ll sleep inside the house tonight. Alright darling, follow me”

She darts through the kitchen, leading you into a corridor. Jackson is behind you, escorting your companions. The woman then turns left, walking up wooden steps, and you follow her, while the males continue down the corridor. You glance behind you, catching the gaze of the youngest. He flashes you an uncertain smile which you return before continuing to mount the steps.

You follow the old woman as she enters a small room. By the scent of it, you conclude it’s hers, and your eyes scour the place. The room is small, a queen size bed taking most of the space. You notice pictures all around the room, of her and two other women hugging or of her younger self - you presume- and a child.

“My daughter left some of her and her hybrid’s stuff, you can take it. I’m sure she won’t mind”, she says as she rummages inside an old wardrobe. She sets some clothes on the bed. “There’s a bathroom here, don’t hesitate to use the toiletries if you want.”

She turns around to face you and places her hands on your arms. You hiss involuntarily in pain as her hand presses into your injured arm.

“Oh my… Sorry, sweety” she glances at your poorly bandaged arm, “there should be a first aid kit in there as well…” She looks chagrined at your state, and you can’t help to reassure her.

“Don’t worry. Thank you so much for everything Madam”, you squeeze her hands gently, hoping to convey all the gratitude you feel towards her.

“Please, call me Granny.” She flashes you a smile.

“Thank you Granny. I’m Y/n”, you say as you return her smile.

“All right then Y/n, I’ll leave you to it. Take your time dear.”

You thank her again and she exits the room. You look around you once more before going into the bathroom. It is as modest as the bedroom, and you quickly get rid of your clothes. You take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, observing the yellow blemishes on your side. You then remove the bandages wrapping your arm and wince, the skin is inflamed and the flesh is still visible from where your epidermis was ripped open. You hop in the shower, hoping the water could also wash away the image from your mind.

Your eyes flutter closed when the warm water hits your skin. You sigh in delight, after all, this is your first real shower for as long as you can remember. You spend quite some time in the shower, making sure you are squeaky clean when you step out. You now smell of vanilla, the fragrance so sweet you can’t help sniffing your hair while drying it. Once you find the first aid kit, you start applying ointment to your injuries and wrap your arm back up.

Once you reach the kitchen, you’re wearing blue jeans and an oversized hoodie. Already at the table are Hope, Jacskon and Dimples happily discussing. You notice Black panther snoozing on the couch, he always looks so sleepy, while Blondie absently plays with his now clean black tail. Wide Shoulders and the tiger hybrid are helping Granny cook, the tiger chatting excitedly with the old woman. Just as you’re about to wonder about the whereabouts of the youngest hybrid, he strolls out from the corridor, wet hair clinging to his face.

“Everyone is here? Perfect, let’s eat!” Granny exclaims, bringing a pot to the table. The table is covered with different dishes, from chicken to beef stew, along with sides of vegetables and rice. You sit at the table, next to Hope and the tiger hybrid takes a seat on your other side, while Granny sits at the end of the table.

The dinner is delicious and convivial. Everyone is talking, the eight of you already comfortable in a stranger’s house. You can undoubtedly say you’ve never eaten this much before, each dish better than the last. The main course is quickly devoured, Granny getting up to fetch fruits from the kitchen, the chatter around the table slowly stopping, each of you growing more tired as the night progresses. When Granny settles back on her chair, she looks around seriously at the eight of you.

“So, tell me, what brings you here in this state?”, she says, starting to peel an apple. The table is now completely silent, hybrids either looking at their empty plates or at each other.

The Dimples is the first to talk.

“We escaped a truck going to a hybrid slaughterhouse”, he says simply, his voice void of any emotions. Jackson’s head shots up to look at him, his brows furrowed.

Granny sighs, resting her chin on her hands, looking pensive.

“I feared as much. I’ve seen those trucks going around before. Though you’re the first that escaped”, she reveals, a dark look on her face. Her eyes light up once again, and she claps her hands together. “Well, you can stay here as long as you want, I could use some help around the farm.”

At her words, all hybrids are beaming. Could this be? Could our troubles be finally over? You feel as though your heart could burst from your ribcage in happiness. Granny and Jackson look like good people, and you could see yourself living here, at least for a while. You never had a real home, and this could really be your chance. Your chance at a happy life. And maybe, you could try to bring your siblings here as well and-

“Thank you Granny, but we can’t”

The sentence is enough to bring you crashing back to earth. You turn to Dimples, looking at him, eyes wide. Besides you, Hope is similarly shocked.

“But- Wh- Why not?” he stammers, and you can swear you see tears forming in his eyes.

“We ran away, they are most likely looking for us, especially since we’re all predatory hybrids. By staying here, we’re putting Granny and Jackson in danger”, the lion sighs.

He’s right. You can’t bear the thought of something happening to Granny by your fault. One night is already a big risk, let alone living here indefinitely.

“Thank you so much for the offer, Granny, but we’ll have to leave tomorrow”, you sigh, disappointment clear in your tone.

“But, where are you going to go?”, Jackson pipes up. At the question, you look at your compagnions, neither of them really sure of the answer.

“In the north of the country, I heard of a rehabilitation center for hybrids. They help hybrids to find homes”, Granny says.

“No offence Granny, but there’s no way i’m going back to being a pet”, Sleepy growls.

“No, not that, silly cat”, Granny replies, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. At the nickname, the feline’s black ears drop to his head, pink coloring his cheeks. She giggles when he fails to find a comeback.

“No, they help hybrids settle in houses and you only have to work a bit for them in return. It’s part of a new bill from the government, helping strays get back on their feet. Since humans are mostly responsible for the way you are treated, they figured it would be a good way to make amends”, she explains.

“This… This is actually a good idea”

You nod eagerly at Blondie’s excited statement. You dream of a home and this could be the opportunity to finally get one.

“How do we go to this rehabilitation center Granny?” you ask earnestly. She ponders for a while before answering.

“Well, there’s a bus, going from the city to the center of the capital city, where the center is located. The city is a five hour walk away, but I can’t bring you there, my car is broken down.”

“A five hour walk is nothing for us”, says the youngest hybrid, puffing his chest, feigning pride, earning a chuckle from Hope and you. Granny smiles sweetly at the boy before resuming her direction.

“I can give you a map and some money for the bus ride. It should be a few hours, but I’m sure you’ll manage”, she adds, winking at the prideful hybrid. “When you’ll be in the capital, you’ll just have to ask around for direction, I’m sure people will help you”

“Thank you so much Granny. You’re an angel”, Wide Shoulders says, beaming at her.

“I try darling, I try” she jokes, playfully pinching his cheek. A yawn escapes her lips. “Hmm, I think it’s time for bed. We only have two guest bedrooms, so the boys will have to pile into them”

“One can come sleep with me” says Jackson excitedly. Granny smiles at the overeager boy.

“Thank you pup.” She turns to you while she rises from her seat. “Darling, I’ll set the couch for you, you’ll be more comfortable”. You nod happily at her, helping her clear the table.

Once the table is clean, Granny urges you to put on pajamas while she sets the bed. When you’re ready for bed, you make your way to the living room. The couch is set and the room empty, Granny must be back to her room, you conclude. Unable to sleep just yet, you decide to settle on the swing chair, basking in the moonlight in the cold air, knees to your chest.

You sit here in the dark for a while before the door opens, and Jackson comes into view. He smiles sweetly and you invite him without a word next to you. He happily obliges, and waits a few minutes before breaking the silence.

“So Y/n, what’s your story?” You turn to look at him, but his eyes are focused on the horizon.

“My story? Huh… Well, I got kidnapped, thrown in the back of a truck, jumped out of said moving truck, bruised my arm in the process, hid in the trees and slept on the ground with seven other hybrids, ate berries for breakfast, walked for miles before finding your house, and well, you know the rest” you say with a grin, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

“Damn”, he replies, stifling a chuckle, and this time when you turn to him, you meet his eyes.

“What about you, what’s your story?”, you inquire. Just as you ask the question, the glimmer in his eyes disappears. Seconds pass in silence and you are about to apologize when he finally speaks.

“Well, like many labrador hybrids adopted on impulse, my family abandoned me. In the fields. I walked for hours before I passed out. Granny found me, and she gave me a home, a real one this time”, he sighs. “It was three years ago I think”, he concludes, meeting your eyes and giving you a small smile.

“I’m sorry Jackson”

“Please, don’t be, you’ve clearly won this round.” His mischievous tone is back, and a sly grin tugs at his lips. Like you, he hides his hurt behind humour, and you’re not about to prod into it.

“Oh wow, what a nice contest to win Jackson!” you say sarcastically, eyes rolling playfully as he utters a “I know right?”, making the both of you laugh.

“What is the grand prize though?”, you ask chuckling. He seems to ponder for a while.

“PTSD”, he replies after a while, and the both of you dissolve into laughter.

You spend the next minutes in a comfortable silence, looking at the stars. This time, you’re the one to break the silence.

“Can I be honest with you Jackson?”. He hums in reply, prompting you to continue. “I’m scared.” You pause, looking for the right words.

“What’s going to happen when we reach the capital? Do you think we’ll stay together? Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it all alone. I’ve never been alone, and I don’t want to be alone.”

He chuckles sweetly, ending your rambling and you face him, perpexled.

“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit”, you look at him questioningly, urging him to resume talking. “Hoseok told me you were the one who stole the keys. That means you must be braver than what you think and-”

“Who is Hoseok?”, you ask, confused. He chuckles but slowly stops when he sees the confusion written on your face.

“What do you mean you don’t know who Hoseok is? Pretty boy, gold eyes, kinda noisy, part of the seven hybrid with you,... still no?” he looks at you baffled. You don’t understand until it finally hits you that you don’t know any of the names of the seven other hybrids.

“Holy shit, are you really telling me that you’ve been travelling with seven other people for the past two days and you still don’t know their names?” Jackson is now roaring in laughter, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Meanwhile, you are still bewildered at your own stupidity, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Wait, so you know all their names?” you ask, confused, making the blond boy double over in laughter.

“Of- Of course I- I do”, he says, shoulders still shaking in silent laughter, tears falling from his eyes. You sigh.

“Do you think they’re already asleep?”

“Oh, most definitely, Namjoon was already sleeping when I left”. The lab hybrid finally seems to calm down, and takes a deep breath. You bite your lips, already awaiting the embarrassment as you prepare your next question. You know that you’ll never live that down.

“So… Which one of them is Namjoon?”

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Hope you liked it! 💕

[army-of-mai-lovers]

Jet, Suki, Smellerbee, Haru pt 5

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Suki and Haru spring into action. Haru starts Earthbending at the guy, and Suki gets in close enough that she can fight him with her fists

Jet and Smellerbee still can’t move. They’re shocked. 

Suki and Haru are both really capable fighters, but they’re playing fair, and Longshot isn’t

Because, like a true Freedom Fighter, Longshot is fighting dirty

Watching Longshot take down Suki and Haru snaps Jet and Smellerbee out of it, and they leap to their defense

Both of them are in a rage, but they’re still fighting somewhat carefully, trying to hurt Longshot as little as possible

Longshot’s not doing that. Longshot’s aiming to kill. 

As they’re fighting, Jet grunts out “Why are you fighting us? We’re your family!” 

Longshot pauses, just briefly, at that, and in that moment Smellerbee knocks him down. 

They help up Suki and Haru (who are both fine).

Longshot’s groaning on the floor, not saying anything coherent

When Jet and Smellerbee move to help him up, Suki and Haru try to stop them (which makes sense, seeing as that’s the guy who tried to kill them) and Jet and Smellerbee fill them in on the fact that this is Longshot. 

Suki’s still a little cautious of them helping out a known Dai Li agent, even knowing how Jet was brainwashed during his first run in with the Dai Li. She just doesn’t know if they can un-brainwash Longshot, and she’s not sure what the consequences of trying are. 

Haru has the same concerns as Suki, deep down, but he decides pretty quickly that the most important thing is that they at least try to help Longshot. 

Jet wants to help Longshot at any cost, but Smellerbee is unsure. She wasn’t even really expecting to find Longshot, and now that they know he’s been brainwashed and working for the Dai Li for over a year, she wishes they hadn’t. 

But the longer they stay down there, the more time they lose, and it’s pretty clear that neither Jet nor Haru will leave without Longshot, so she resigns herself to at least trying to help him. 

So they bring back a knocked-out Longshot to where they’ve been staying, and Suki and Smellerbee insist on taking precautions. They tie him up as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

Suki asks Haru if Toph ever taught him seismic sense, and when he says yes, a little, she asks him whether he can detect lies. 

When he says he can, Jet briefly thinks of the many, many times he ditched Haru because he “had already promised Smellerbee he was going to hang out with her.” But then he sets that aside, because they have way more important things to be worrying about and anyway, he’s sure that Haru doesn’t even remember

Haru remembers 

When Longshot wakes up, Haru starts questioning him. He doesn’t remember his name, where he comes from, or who Jet and Smellerbee are. When pressed, he keeps saying that his only purpose is to protect the people of Ba Sing Se. 

He doesn’t lie once. 

Jet taps Haru on the shoulder and tells him to stop the questioning, and looks at Longshot for a long time. He then very quietly starts telling this absolutely nonsense story about a man who played pai sho and fought spirits. 

Suki and Haru are so confused, but Smellerbee’s eyes widen in recognition.  

Longshot reacts extremely poorly to it, yelling at them to untie him, telling them that Long Feng will come for them, and Suki, Haru, and Smellerbee move to contain him further, but every time they do Jet holds up a hand to stop them and keeps going. 

And after a while, Longshot gets tired. He stops struggling and just listens to Jet for a while. Eventually, he falls asleep. 

Suki and Haru have been waiting for hours for Jet to explain what he was doing, but instead of explaining anything, he tells Smellerbee to untie Longshot, and together they carry him to the bed where Jet normally sleeps. 

And now, Suki and Haru are super confused. 

As Jet’s getting settled to sleep on the floor, he says that that used to be Longshot’s favorite bedtime story. Jet usually didn’t tell it all in one night, and he doesn’t ever remember Longshot hearing the end of it, but he did today. 

Haru just stares at him, and says that Jet should sleep in his bed, and he’ll sleep on the floor. Jet objects, and they get into an argument about it (quietly) before Suki throws up her hands and tells them that they can both sleep on the floor. 

She quickly settles onto Haru’s bed, which is far more comfortable than where she’s been sleeping, and starts snoring before either of them have the opportunity to object. 

When Suki wakes up early the next morning, she sees that Haru and Jet are cuddling, fast asleep, and smiles before going to make herself some tea. 

But there’s already a pot brewing. Longshot is already awake. 

They stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time, before Longshot clears his throat, and tells her that he’s sorry if he hurt her. 

Suki’s not sure how to respond, so she just sits down. Longshot pours her a cup of tea, and they sit together in complete silence. 

Some time later, Smellerbee wakes up and sees Longshot and Suki drinking tea and not speaking to each other, and asks Longshot if he remembers her. 

Longshot nods, tears falling down his face as he says that he had no excuse to hurt her and that he’s so sorry for leaving her. 

And he just keeps rambling about how sorry he is and Smellerbee runs over and hugs him. 

“It’s not your fault, Longshot. It never was.” 

When Jet and Haru wake up, Longshot hugs Jet really tightly, saying he never thought he’d see him again. Jet hugs him back, and for once, it seems like everything is going to be okay for them. 

They stay in the city for a few days to let Longshot regain his strength. It’s not enough, but by then whispers have started up of the Dai Li looking for someone who fits Longshot’s description, so they figure it’s time for them to get out of there. 

Jet and Haru have an actual conversation about their feelings for once in their lives, and Haru laughs for a good long while when Jet tells him that he thought he was into Suki. 

“I’m literally gay, Jet” “well I know that now-”

They hold hands a lot and, seeing how happy Jet looks, Smellerbee decides she’ll give it a week before she starts teasing them. 

(for her, that’s incredibly generous) 

Longshot’s so happy he could cry, to be around new friends and old, free to decide for himself what he wants for the first time in a long time. 

When they’re out of Ba Sing Se, Suki and Haru decide to set aside their own personal feelings on the subject and ask Jet, Smellerbee, and Longshot where they want to go. 

Smellerbee says she wants to go back to Kyoshi. Longshot says he wants to see Pipsqueak and Longshot and hash everything out with them, and then maybe stay for a while before going off to travel the world. 

Jet thinks back fondly to the dream he had, of all the Freedom Fighters staying on Kyoshi Island together, being a family again, just like old times. He knows that dream isn’t possible, and was never possible, but in trying to realize it, he did a lot of good. 

And even if his family is in a bunch of different places, they’re still his family, and they always will be, no matter where they are. 

~le end~ (for real this time) 

[newtafterdark]

Taste of Metal - Chapter 4:  Shower Thoughts

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26157634/chapters/63795175

Summary: What if the overwhelming VR experience Gordon went through, had a deeper purpose than just being a simple simulation & a freelance debug job for him? 

But most importantly- what if Gordon Freeman listens to Metal & used to be in a band?  aka. the "Metalhead Gordon AU"

- - -

It turned out that taking a shower wasn’t as simple as Gordon had hoped.

He had mentally compared his VR suit to the HEV suit from the simulation before… but their similarities became even more apparent the longer he struggled in his attempt to unlatch it.

As he found himself almost clawing at its edges in desperation, he let out a frustrated snarl. He needed help with this.

“Yo Gordon? You gucci?”

Gordon almost stumbled over the edge of his bathtub at the sudden noise. He shot Benrey a glare… from where the entity was half-way clipping through the bathroom door-

“Man, what the fuck… Jesus...”

Benrey gave him an unimpressed look.

“Didn’t answer my question. You good?”

Gordon held his wounded arm close once more, suddenly finding his bath bomb collection way more interesting than the conversation he was forced to have right now.

“C-Could you go get Dr Coomer? And Tommy? I… I need help with this-”, he motioned at his suit, not meeting Benrey’s gaze.

Benrey in the meantime tilted his head at the scene in front of him.

“Bro, I could help with tha-”

“NO! … I-I mean, thanks, but no.”

If Benrey looked hurt by that, Gordon didn’t see it. His eyes were having a staring contest with one of the novelty rubber ducks on the nearby mirror shelf.

Gordon almost didn’t notice the door carefully opening a moment later, with Dr Coomer and Tommy carefully stepping into the small bathroom.

He barely managed to stammer out an apology for what he saw as an inconvenience for them.

“Nonsense, Gordon! Helping you with this is the least we can do! You helped us so much already- it’s not only fair to repay the favour, but it’s also what friends do! ”, Dr Coomer assured him as he and Tommy got to work.

They worked in semi-silence, with only the occasional noise of metal getting bent or scraped mixed in with Gordon’s attempt to not just simply have a relief-induced meltdown as he felt the literal weight and pressure on his body slowly and carefully being removed from him.

Tommy was the first to pick up on the shaking and slight jumps Gordon body opted to whenever they had to actually touch Gordon’s body to remove parts of the suit as gently as possible.

“W-We’re almost done, Gordon. It’s okay if you- if you feel like crying, we won’t judge! I promise.”

Dr Coomer gave both Tommy and Gordon an assuring nod from where he was piling the VR suit pieces for the time being.

Gordon hiccuped, eyes watering and his good hand reaching up to rub his eyes. He was shaking in earnest now, hip pressed against the cool tiles of a nearby wall.

He knew he was absolutely overwhelmed with everything right now, but the cool temperature on his skin and his friends’ calm assurances would ground him enough in the moment to get the situation at hand over and done with.

- - -

Bubby and Benrey were sitting in what could loosely be described as Gordon’s living room, feelings of worry and unease hanging in the air… accompanied by their equivalent colours in Sweet Voice.

Darnold was keeping an eye on them from the corner of his eye, while accepting the VR suit pieces through the slightly opened door from Coomer. While he was happy to be finally out of Black Mesa, the price of having hurt Gordon in some way or the other was laying heavy on most of the members of the Science Team, as far as he could tell.

He himself had a mental note to apologize to Gordon for the shock he had given him with the effects of his potion. While it ended up being a helpful tool in the end, Darnold was sure that the initial shock must have been far from miniscule.

The mixologist gave Sunkist’s head a gentle pat as the giant dog pushed past him into the bathroom, seemingly having decided to guard Gordon as Dr Coomer and Tommy eventually exited with the remaining VR suit parts in their arms.

He could only hope that with combined efforts they’d be able to help with Gordon’s healing process… no matter how long it would take.

- - -

Gordon felt as if he hadn’t showered in weeks. The smell on him wasn’t as bad as he had feared… but this was less about getting rid of the smell.

He wanted to get rid of the remnants of fear. The memories of pain. Yes, it had been a simulation - and not even a very realistic looking one at that - but it had felt real.

The best comparison his exhausted brain could come up with, was how the first Pokémon games on the Game Boy Colour had looked compared to how they had looked in his imagination as a child. Caves had depth, fields of grass had texture and he could almost feel the wind when the small flower sprites moved.

The Resonance Cascade Simulation had been just like that for him. The coldness of the corridors, the dust in the mountains on the surface… the heartbeat of the caves on Zen.

Gordon shook his head like a wet dog, sending water droplets all over the place, as he was standing in his bathtub, letting the hot water calm his muscles and thoughts.

Eventually, he turned off the faucet and sat down in the tub, the water layer stopping almost over his shoulders as he pulled his knees close to his chest.

He watched the water ripple with every droplet that fell from his hair.

If it wasn’t for his missing hand, he would have sworn that he’d deal with the memories of the simulation with semi-ease. Even with the fact that he currently had a band of unhuman misfits in his apartment!

He lifted his stump and looked closer at the wound. His mind didn’t quite have the attention span it sometimes needed around other people, but now that he was on his own (aside from Sunkist having curled up on the floor in front of the tub) - he could take his time to form coherent thoughts.

It became apparent that someone with the capability of speaking Sweet Voice had cocooned his wound to keep it from getting infected. Not to mention the fact that the blue layer of it on his stump subdued some of the pain that Gordon should actually be feeling.

Had it been Benrey? Sunkist? Tommy or Dr Coomer? Did Bubby have the ability to do it and just decided to not share that fact with him before? Possible.

Well, he’d just thank the whole group and let whoever did it take the compliment. But not right now. Right now, Gordon leaned back in the tub, head resting against cool tiles and letting his limbs soak in the calming warmth of the clear water around him.

[lamiasluck]

Vampire AU Dark having to find and comfort little bat Eric is cute. Or Magic AU Dark finally having enough of the others nonsense and taking off to give Eric a ‘proper’ date - 🐍 Just some ideas from your idea generating snake

Sorry this took so long ;^; here’s a vamp fic! I really should work on that au more lol

-

For once, Dark was relaxed. He finished his work for the day, and surprisingly, no one barged into his office with some nonsense for him to deal with. A wine glass filled with a good amount of blood was swirled lightly in his hand, and in the other was a book he’s been meaning to read. It’s what he deserved after all his tedious tasks.

His peaceful solace was short lived, however. It always was short lived.

“Dark?” Bim knocked on the door. “We need some help…”

With a heavy sigh, Dark let Bim in. “What’s the problem this time?”

“Uh, well…” He shifted under Dark’s emotionless gaze. “It’s that new guy, Eric.”

Immediately, Dark tilted his head and glared at Bim. “What did you do to him?” His new pupil was to not be messed with under any circumstances, not unless someone has a death wish.

“It-It wasn’t me!” Bim squeaked. “It was the Jims! They wanted to play a prank on Eric, and scared him with loud noises… now he’s hiding under the couch. None of us have a tiny bat form so we can’t get him out.”

“Where are the Jims?”

“I don’t know, hiding from you probably?”

Dark didn’t waste anymore time. He stormed out of his office, leaving Bim behind, and went to the living room to investigate. He’ll deal with the Jims later, no one escaped his punishments. Right now he had a bat to save.

Just as Bim described, there was a lot of chaos surrounding the couch. Dr. Iplier was crouched down looking presumably at Eric, coaxing the bat with reassurances. Wilford was shining a flashlight under the couch in a vain attempt to help.  Dr. Iplier immediately straightened up when he noticed Dark. “Oh thank god you showed up,” he sighed. “I can’t get him out of here.”

No words were said as Dark made his way to the couch. Well, at least nothing was said to the others. He grabbed the flashlight as he looked under the couch. “Eric? Where are you?” Soon after he saw Eric’s handkerchief in a small heap. It twitched slightly upon hearing his voice. “You’re not in trouble, it’s okay.” A tiny head poked out from underneath the cloth, revealing Eric’s tiny bat form. Eric was more fluffed up than normal due to his cloth hiding space. If he wasn’t surrounded by his fellows, he would coo at the distressed vampire’s appearance.

A soft squeak left Eric’s trembling lips. He cautiously inched forward towards Dark, clumsily dragging his handkerchief along with him. Dark cast a quick, but stern look at the others. The silent command made everyone leave as soon as possible, though Wilford did chuckle at him and pat him on the shoulder.

“You’re safe now, darling.” His tone was much softer as he spoke alone. “Come along now, I’ll take you to my office.”

Eventually Eric crawled out and looked around, handkerchief held in his mouth. He didn’t protest when Dark gently scooped him up and held him in his hands. Hugging his handkerchief close, he curled up Dark’s hand and continued to shiver. In his bat form, Eric was no bigger than Dark’s palm, easily one of the tiniest bat forms amongst the egos. Undeniably adorable, but Dark wouldn’t say that out loud.

The trip to his office was quiet. When Dark closed the door behind him, he made his way to his desk and placed Eric on it. The bat squeaked quietly into his handkerchief, looking anxiously at Dark as he gazed at his scared form. Dark’s expression was often unreadable, but now Eric could have swore he saw a hint of sympathy.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Instead of a tiny bat sitting on the desk, Eric changed forms and sat hunched over, legs dangling off the table. Dark didn’t protest his position.

“Th-The Jims… they - they snuck up behind me and, um, and they scared me,” Eric instinctively hid the scar on his neck, fingers twitching as they touched the ridged marks. He retracted his hand away as if he was shocked, instead using his hand to clutch at his handkerchief. “I’m… I’m sorry…” he said with his head hanging low.

“There’s no need to apologize.”

He kept his head down as he desperately fought away tears, shaking his head slightly at Dark’s comment. He shouldn’t have been so scared, so pathetic. How dare he cower in Dark’s presence and waste his time?

“If it’s any consolation,” Dark started, “I will be talking to the Jims later today about their behaviour.” Eric stayed silent at his comment, now pulling at his handkerchief. Dark’s eyes softened ever so slightly, but the gesture went unnoticed. Various words and sentences buzzed in his mind, yet none of them seemed right for his new pupil. He mindlessly glanced at the scar peeking above Eric’s shirt collar, commenting to himself how new the marks looked. A freshly born fawn sat before him, and it felt like it would take an eternity to teach him how to stand.

“Dark…” Eric’s weak voice started, “I can’t, um, I-I can’t-” His voice cracked and interrupted his thoughts. Quiet sobs were the only sound within the otherwise silent office.

The sound rang in Dark’s ears and made him frown. “You can’t what, darling?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft as he stepped cautiously closer to Eric. The younger vampire flinched when he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Eric tried his best to relax soon after, though Eric was still shivering profusely.

“Can’t… c-can’t…” Coherent words barely left his lips. He took off his glasses in haste and buried his face in his handkerchief.

“Take your time,” Dark softly cooed, “It’s okay.”

Dark’s form was blurry from the tears, but Eric peeked up from his handkerchief. Through his unfocused gaze, he managed to see glimpses of Dark’s worried expression. “I can’t - it-it’s too much! Everything… it’s too much…”

“I understand. This is a hard environment to get used to.”

Eric whimpered, tongue tied. The scared, innocent look he gave Dark was enough to make any monster pity him. It was a look that made Dark feel more man than monster.

“Everyone is afraid when they first change,” Dark continued. “It’s a normal occurrence. Why, I remember being afraid when I was your age.”

“Really…?” Eric sniffled, disbelief clear in his frail tone. “Um, when - when did that happen?”

Dark pondered for a moment before shrugging. “Sometime in the 1920’s. This is going to be a slow process, but I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He reached over to his desk and picked up his leftover wine glass of blood, offering it to Eric. “You should drink.”

When Dark said that Eric realized he was starting to feel hungry. However, his shaky and unsteady hands made holding the glass a difficult task. Good thing Dark kept a firm grip. As the blood shook within the glass Eric retracted his hands again and placed them firmly on his lap. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s alright.” Dark, instead of putting down the glass, reached over and held Eric’s hand to guide it towards the drink. Eric’s hand was still shaky, but Dark managed to help him until he could put the glass to his lips. “I’ll always be here to help.”

Eric drank a good amount of blood before pulling away. Dark’s words resonated with him, echoing in his mind. He has never heard such words before. “You promise?” He looked up at him with hopeful eyes, utterly surprised when he saw him nod back.

“You have my eternity.”

[hitching-hyacinth]

Guess who wrote 3k whole words of the snzfucker-y version of how Julian and Remy met? Please enjoy this nonsense feat. Checkov’s rose

Julian wasn't much one for parties, least of all ones his mum hosted. He loved dressing up, sure, especially at a masquerade where he could be most extravagant, but he found that being surrounded by people quickly overwhelmed the fun of a pretty outfit.

It really was a pretty outfit. His mask was an intricate weave of red and pale gold, with a rose delicately made of thin sheets of metal over his left brow. He'd matched the rest of the outfit to the mask; a vest in a rich red with an embroidered pattern of roses and vines, a smart jacket with gold accents around the cuffs, a pin in his cravat shaped as a rose by the same craftsman who'd made the mask. Just before the night had begun, he'd clipped a rose from his garden, cut off the thorns, and arranged it in his hair over his right ear to balance out the mask.

Too bad the jacket was draped over the back of the chair, the midsummer air and stuffiness of the ballroom making it unbearable, and the only ones here to appreciate the ensemble were him and the glass of champagne he'd been sipping at for half an hour. At least the drink matched the outfit.

He leaned on the round standing table, watching the bustle of the dance. His sister, Kitty, in a pretty yellow gown he'd helped her with, twirled a girl in blue who he'd probably recognize if he could be bothered to care. Mum was alone near the band, she and the musicians being the only unmasked people in the room. Even the servants, otherwise in uniform, wore simple masks bought with some extra pay.

He wasn't expecting anyone nearby him, so a polite "hello" from his left made him jump. He set down his champagne, thankful he hadn't spilled it, and returned the greeting as he focused his attention back on his immediate surroundings. At his side, a respectful few feet from the table, was a man he was quite certain he'd never met. His mask sparkled in blues and greens and silver, with peacock feathers on one side reaching well over the top of his head. His eyes glittered behind the mask, and he wore an easy smile Julian was almost jealous of.

"Hello," Julian said again, self-consciously tugging at the bottom of his vest to straighten it out.

The stranger bowed slightly, holding out one hand with the other tucked behind his back. "May I have this dance?"

Julian was silent for a moment, his mind blank of anything coherent. "Um," he said eventually, "I never learned how…"

"How to dance?" the man asked, straightening out of his bow with a flustered look.

"Not, um…" Julian picked up his champagne, fiddling with the stem as a sort of comfort. "Not with another man." Kitty had been the one bold enough to learn both parts. Julian had never asked.

"Would you like to learn?"

Julian considered for a moment, downed what was left of his champagne, and held out a hand to take the peacock's. He grinned and gently tugged Julian to him.

Julian took a moment to think, reversing what he'd learned before he moved hesitantly into position. The peacock was more confident, laying his free hand on Julian's waist and leading him into the steps of the dance. Julian tripped over his feet almost immediately, muscle memory taking over and moving his feet the wrong way. He laughed nervously and corrected himself, trying to follow the peacock's movements more than think about his own.

For several minutes, the two were silent, Julian too focused on where his feet were to think of much else. Eventually, though, he fell into the rhythm enough to look up at his partner's face. "I don't think I know you," he ventured.

"I don't think you do." The peacock smiled. "What's a masquerade for if not to dance with a stranger?"

Julian flashed a smile of agreement and fell quiet, not sure what else to say.

"What brings you here?" the peacock asked after a moment. "You didn't seem to be enjoying yourself much."

"My mum's the host," Julian said, not caring if that was more than he was meant to share, given the supposed anonymity of a masquerade. The family resemblance was clear enough, anyway.

The peacock frowned and took his hand from Julian's for a moment to rub his nose. "Starts with a C?"

"What does?"

"Your name."

Julian smiled. "If you don't remember, it doesn't matter." It was something of a relief not to be associated with his family for a moment. He'd always thought a name meant more than a face, anyway. "It's a masquerade."

The peacock flashed him a quick smile, then stopped suddenly in his tracks, tugging Julian to a stop with him. He paused for a moment, then turned to the side with a sharp, restrained "'tchu!"

"Bless--"

"isshu!"

"Bless you."

The peacock sniffed and tugged at Julian's hand to ease him back into the dance. "Excuse me."

"What about you, then?" Julian asked once he'd settled back into the odd backwards dance.

"Hmm?"

"What brings you here?"

The peacock shrugged with a smile. "It's a party."

The music faded into silence at the end of a song and Julian stepped back from the peacock. "You like this kind of thing, then?"

He sniffed. "Most of the time. It's a good chance to meet people."

"At a masquerade?"

The peacock laughed. "The dancing's fun, too."

At that, the band started up again, bursting into a fast-paced, jaunty song. Julian had always dreaded those sorts of songs while he learned to dance, not least because Kitty tended to fling him out a bit too hard, but at the way the peacock’s face lit up, he found himself smiling, too.

It was a disaster of tripping over his own feet and stepping on the peacock’s, the music flying by too fast for Julian to think through the steps in time, but his partner didn’t seem to mind. He murmured assurance at Julian’s apologies until he stopped apologizing altogether and let his body follow the music and the peacock’s movements, even if he was clumsy, a smile fixed on his face that he couldn’t shake if he’d tried.

At a burst of energy in the song, the peacock spun Julian under his arm and leaned back, holding tight to his hand as they caught each other’s momentum. Julian laughed and the peacock pulled him back in, Julian spinning until his back was pressed to the peacock’s chest, his arms crossed over his own. The song came to a decisive end, but Julian let the peacock hold him, still exhilarated and giggling. He could feel the peacock’s breath in his hair, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

And then his breath hitched and he pulled away from Julian. Julian turned back, confused, in time to see him duck his face into one hand with a sharp “etchu!” He stayed bent over a bit, hand still over his nose, while his breath wavered again into “hh...h’TCH!”

“Bless you,” Julian said. “Are you—?”

The peacock shook his head slightly and ducked hard into his hand with another pair of sneezes, harshly stifled as he pinched his nose between his fingers.

“Bless you!” Hesitantly, Julian set a hand on the peacock’s shoulder. “Are you feeling well?” By now, the music had started up again, but Julian hardly cared.

“Just fine,” the peacock murmured, though he kept his hand up and congestion dulled his consonants. “Don’t suppose you have a handkerchief? I didn’t think to bring one.”

Julian lifted his hand from the peacock’s shoulder as he sniffled, audibly wet. He tugged the pocket square from his vest and shook it open. “It’s meant to be pretty more than comfortable, I’m afraid,” he said, frowning at the roughness of the embroidery.

The peacock furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?” he asked, but necessity took over his hesitation in a second and he took the fabric with his free hand and pressed it over his nose and mouth. "hh'EGGSHu! h-heh...h'TXX--!"

Julian winced; the way the peacock held back was starting to sound painful. "Bless you. Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

"I was," the peacock murmured, a visible blush rising in his cheeks. "I might take a few minutes outside, if that's all right."

"Of course," Julian said. He wasn't sure he'd ever fretted before, but that was certainly what the fluttering in his chest was. "I'll have a servant fetch a proper handkerchief."

"Oh, there's no need for that," the peacock assured him, lowering the handkerchief so Julian could see his smile. Already, the roughness of the pocket square was rubbing his nose pink. "I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"I don't mind," Julian promised, ushering the peacock towards the door. "I'm only sorry you're feeling so poorly."

The peacock gave him a grateful smile and headed for the exit, pausing once along the way to bend into another pair of sneezes. Julian watched him go before waving down the nearest servant to him. She gave a knowing smile that made Julian blush before heading off downstairs.

Julian returned to the table in the corner where he'd spent the beginning of the dance. He fiddled with the empty champagne flute, completely unsure of what to do with himself until Maria returned with handkerchiefs.

Kitty saved him thinking too long about it by swooping down on his table, her arm linked with the same girl in blue she'd been dancing with before. "It looks like you've been having fun," she said with an impish smile.

Rather than dignify that with a response, Julian frowned at the girl in blue, recognizing her now that she was close enough to him. "You're dancing with Genevieve Montomergy?"

Genevieve scowled, but Kitty's grin only widened. "I don't know. I'm dancing with a beautiful masked stranger. As are you, to the shock of the world."

"He's very charming," Julian said defensively.

Maria chose then to interrupt, passing a few neatly-folded handkerchiefs to Julian. He thanked her and turned back to find Kitty’s smile, impossibly, more devilish than he’d left it.

“Playing nursemaid to the charming stranger, then?” she said. “Very romantic.”

“Kitty—“

She waved a hand. “All right, have your fun.” She leaned closer to Genevieve. “I’ve got a charming stranger of my own to woo.”

Julian scowled and waited for Kitty and Genevieve to swing back into a dance before he slipped outside to follow the peacock.

He found him sitting halfway down the staircase, still sniffling into Julian’s pocket square. He’d taken his mask off, and was rubbing one eye with the back of his thumb.

Julian sat down next to him, suddenly not sure what to do with himself. In silence, he passed the stack of handkerchiefs to the peacock, who smiled gratefully and wiped his face clean with one.

“Thank you.” The peacock looked at him sideways, his eyelids puffy and pink. “I suppose I’ve ruined my first impression.” He was smiling, but there was something almost exhausted about it, not the bright grin he’d been wearing earlier.

“Not at all.” Julian shifted to face the peacock more fully. In a moment of nerve-wracking boldness, he asked, “Have you been crying?”

The peacock laughed. “No, no,” he assured Julian. “I’m just...itchy.” As if saying it brought it on, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing against the inside corners.

Tension in Julian’s chest released, and he slouched forward, elbows on his knees. “My nurse always said scratching makes it worse.”

“I know,” the peacock groaned, letting his hands drop. He kept his eyes shut and the handkerchief held ready in one hand, a far cry from the bright, energetic demeanor he’d had just fifteen minutes earlier.

Somehow, it didn’t make Julian want to leave. He wanted to stay with the peacock until they could dance again, or until he left for home.

“Has it helped to come outside?” he asked, and then, afraid he would push too hard, “If you’d rather not talk about it… um, I’d be happy to leave, if you’d like.” No, that came out wrong. “I’m happy to stay. I’m—I’m going to be quiet now,” he decided, ending in mumble.

The peacock laughed. Julian returned an embarrassed smile, but he was glad to see some of that spark back on the stranger’s face. “Yes, it’s helped,” he said. “There must have been something about the air in the ballroom. And I’d like very much for you to stay. If you’d like.”

“I would.” Julian looked at his knees and the two sat in silence, somewhere between comfortable and horrendously awkward, while Julian tried to sort through how he was meant to behave. Strange that no one had taught him the etiquette for a handsome sniffly stranger at a ball.

“Caldwell!” the peacock announced suddenly.

Julian’s gut twisted, his head shooting up to look at the peacock. “What?”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” The peacock sniffled and brushed the handkerchief under his nose.

“...yes,” Julian said, and bit his lip against the lump in his throat. There went his half-hour of anonymity, pretending to be bolder than he was. Julian Caldwell didn’t sit with strangers outside the ballroom. Julian Caldwell didn’t even dance.

The peacock must’ve seen something of his feelings on his face, because his tone changed to something flustered and embarrassed more than triumphant. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—you told me it wasn’t important. I should have let it go. Are you…?”

Julian wasn’t sure what he was asking, but he gave a tight shake of his head and released a long, trembling breath.

“Do you mind if I hold your hand?”

Julian shook his head again and scooted a bit closer to the peacock. He did the same and twined their fingers together, resting them on his leg. “I’ll call—excuse me—huh’ETCH!” He snapped away from Julian and brought the handkerchief to his face, but didn’t let go of Julian’s hand. He took a sharp gasp before he could speak and crumpled again, loosing three more sneezes into the handkerchief before his breath evened out.

“Bless you,” Julian murmured.

“Ugh.” The peacock groaned and blew his nose softly, clearly trying to be polite. “Excuse me.” He shook himself and sat up straighter, bringing back that smile. “I was saying, I’ll call you something else, at least tonight.”

Julian shivered at the thought of seeing him after tonight and hoped the peacock couldn’t feel it where their legs touched. “All right?” he prompted.

“What about Rose?”

“Descriptive,” Julian said. “I’d like that.” He watched the peacock’s face for a while, thinking over how the name had sounded in his mouth. Maybe Rose would dance with a stranger at the ball.

Maybe Rose would kiss a stranger at the ball.

Julian banished the thought as soon as it came, glad in that moment his skin hid it well when he blushed. He was spared the silent struggle of mortification when the peacock gave him a curious look, his eyes darting between his face and a spot somewhere to his right.

“The rose in your hair,” he asked. “It’s real?”

“Of course it’s real.” Julian’s hand went to the flower, gently touching the petals like they could have turned cloth during the dance.

The peacock laughed softly, his expression somewhere between embarrassment and elation. “That explains this,” he said, gesturing vaguely to his face. He let out another laugh, leaving Julian bemused. “I had my face right in your hair, didn’t I?”

Julian spluttered for a moment, but gave up trying to make sense of what the peacock was saying, and instead settled for staring and hoping his expression carried his questions well enough.

“This happens around flowers, sometimes,” the peacock explained, rubbing at one eye while a smile stayed stuck on his face. He gestured at Julian’s hair. “That’s probably what set me off, not the air in the ballroom.”

“Oh.” Julian untangled his fingers from the peacock’s as he realized. He reached for the rose again to tug it out of his hair, trying not to pull too much out of place. “I’m sorry. I’ll get rid of it.”

“No, no, no.” The peacock reached a hand out, hovering near Julian’s wrist. “That’s all right. Don’t ruin your outfit on my account.”

Julian shook his head with a small smile as he worked the rose out of his hair and tossed it over the side of the stairs into the hedges. “I’d much rather dance with you again,” he said, the words nearly startling him as they passed his lips. It was true, he realized with a sort of giddy rush.

“That’s sweet of you, Rose.” The peacock was grinning, despite that his nose was still red and he had to sniffle every few seconds to keep himself decent. "Thank you for being patient with me."

Julian smiled. "I should be the one saying that, after how many times I stepped on your feet."

"We're even, then," the peacock said. He wiped his nose with a sort of finality and tied his mask back on. "May I have this dance?" he asked as he stood.

"Of course." Julian took his offered hand and the peacock pulled him to his feet. They linked their arms and headed back into the ballroom, and Julian waved to a delighted Kitty. She would make fun of him later, but for now, all Julian cared about was dancing the night away with a handsome, sniffly stranger in a peacock mask.

[rather-impertinent]

Most Unexpected

A/N: this is chapter 4 of The Enys Chronicles but I don’t have my laptop rn so you’re just gonna have to read it here. But I promise it’s nice and fluffy and worth the sacrifice x

~~~~~~~

Dr Dwight Enys crept into his bedchamber after breakfast in search of his beloved pocket-watch he’d forgotten on the bedside table.

“Ah, Caroline,” he greeted with a wide smile, somewhat surprised to see her awake and dressed so early. “How are you this morning, my love?” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek as he passed her.

“How am I?” Caroline asked him, crossing her arms across her chest, as though the question was the most impertinent one in the world. “How am I? I’ll tell you how I am, Dr Enys: I am with child.” She had been feeling off for several days now, and when her courses had not come again yesterday, Caroline knew there was only one explanation.

Dwight picked up the silver pocket-watch from the bedside table and swiftly dropped it to the floor in shock once his brain had taken in what Caroline had just said. His head whipped around to look at his wife. “I’m sorry?” Had he heard her correctly? “You- you’re with-?”

“Child?” she finished for him. “Yes.” Her arms were still crossed.

The doctor’s gaze went from his wife to their still dozing five month-old and back again. “But I- I don’t understand,” he stuttered. “How could such a thing...” Dwight trailed off, his stunned mind at present unable to form coherent words and sentences.

“I should think you of all people should be quite able to explain the concept, Dr Enys,” Caroline scathed before sitting down heavily on the bed. It was all so soon. And she was so tired, they both were; and now there would be no time for resting. “Christ above...” Caroline muttered quietly as she wiped her hand across her face.

“It was not His doing,” Dwight commented, a smile clear in his voice.

Caroline picked up a plush pillow and threw it at him, which he dodged expertly. Now was not the time for jests. “No, it was yours,” she accused in a grumble.

An wide, unapologetic grin stretched across Dwight’s face now that he had gotten over the shock of his wife’s announcement; though she had clearly not recovered as seamlessly as he had.

Tentatively, Dwight took a seat next to Caroline on the bed and took her hand in his, his features soft and patient. “I grant you it is... most unexpected,” he began, looking at her; she still stared straight ahead. “But is it so bad?” Dwight wondered gently.

It was then Caroline looked at him. “Bad?” she repeated. “No, no, of course not...” she insisted quietly; she then exhaled shakily. “It’s just...”

“What?” Dwight probed, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“I was not prepared for it to be so soon.” The thought of giving birth again so soon after last time filled her with icy dread. What if they would not all be so lucky this time?

A small chuckle escaped Dwight’s lips. “Nor I,” he admitted. When Caroline did not share or acknowledge either his chuckle or his comment, Dwight put an arm around her. “Tell me, what is it that troubles you?”

Caroline paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well,” she began, “the birthing itself is daunting to say the least. You of all people know how precarious childbirth can be.” Dr Enys nodded in understanding. “It is long, arduous and unrelenting, and one worries if one’s strength is... strong enough. Then there’s the pain that follows the birthing, the exhaustion, the risk of the fever and worse...” Caroline inhaled and exhaled. “And the prospect of you not being there...”

“Why would I not be there?” Dwight wondered with creased brows.

“You were quite late last time,” Caroline reminded him.

With a twinge of guilt, Dwight nodded in receipt of her worries; he wished to soothe them but did not want to sound dismissive of her very valid fears, so he said only: “I promise I shall take only house-calls once your confinement begins, would that please you?” Caroline nodded her approval. Somewhat jokingly, Dr Enys then teased, “I promise to be the noble country squire of your dreams.”

Caroline shoved him gently for his jest, though a smile was now tugging the corner of her lips; she put her hand on his chest. “You promise?” Caroline asked, her eyes searching his. Dwight’s word was the very foundation on which he built his life.

He met her eyes and smiled softly. “I do. I promise.”

Caroline’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit at that. “Alright,” she said before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I just bought two new gowns,” Caroline whined suddenly, “I shan’t get much wear out of them now. And they shall be out of fashion in six or seven months time!” She pointed her finger at Dwight. “Dr Enys, you have much to answer for.”

Dr Enys grinned widely at the accusation. “It would seem I do,” he accepted, before pausing in thought. “Why do we not go to London within the month? Then we may be invited to balls and dinners and you may get to parade your new gowns for all of society to see,” he offered, inwardly already dreading the soirées. But wherever Caroline went, he would always follow, that was just how it was. He wouldn’t change it for the world.

Caroline’s entire face lit up. “Oh, Dwight, do you really mean it? May we truly go? Next week, perhaps?”

He kissed her hand. “If you wish it.”

“I wish it!” she enthused. Oh, to be amongst people again! To be further than Killewarren, Nampara or Sawle village! To have a dull, meaningless conversation with a stranger and not somebody who knows and owns her heart! To be free of the obligations of motherhood for a few blissful hours every few evenings! Oh, but wait... “May Sophie come with us?” Caroline asked her husband.

Dwight hesitated for a moment: the sight and smell of London came immediately to his mind, the loud hum of the city, the disease, the overindulgence, the general uncleanliness. The answer must surely be no. But then Caroline’s sad face came into his mind, as did the thought of missing some important milestone in Sophie’s development, and the thought of leaving her behind in Cornwall for a month... even in the care of Nanny or Ross and Demelza... Eventually, and not without hesitation, Dwight said: “yes.”

Caroline grew even more excited at the prospect of her trip to London so Dwight quickly threw in some conditions. “But we must be more cautious in our journey, stopping three or four or perhaps even five times a day. It may take an extra day or two to reach London, but so be it.” Caroline nodded. “And we shall not be dining out every night.” A less enthusiastic but a perceptible nod came from the direction of his wife. “Naturally, if any guest shows even the slightest sign of any illness - common or exotic in nature - we must leave at once.” Again, Caroline nodded, though more firmly this time. “Lastly, we must find some time to take Sophie to Hyde Park, she would like the ducks and the horses very much,” he concluded, his tone a little softer now.

Sensing her ears burning at the repeated use of her name, Sophie greeted the new day with some nonsensical babbles to gain her parents’ attention.

Dwight moved off the bed and approached the crib. “Good morning!” he chirped, peering at a now alert Sophie, who stretched and waved her arms in need of some loving attention. Dwight lifted her out of the crib with ease and rocked her gently. “Today is a very special day, my little love,” he told Sophie.

“And why is that, Dr Enys?” asked Caroline, controlling a smile as she knew his answer.

“Because,” Dr Enys began, his tone sing-song, “soon another child shall be born and there shall be four of us! Think of that, Sophie!” He tickled her stomach and she gurgled happily, stretching her little arms to grab a handful of his lip.

“I think she is pleased,” Caroline commented. “Though she appears far more interested in shutting you up, my love. Perhaps she may be of use to me, after all.”

“Yes, Madam Mischief appears to be quite boisterous today,” Dwight acknowledged, his sentence muffled by Sophie’s firm grip on his bottom lip, her other chubby hand squeezing his nose. “Ah, ah,” Dwight tutted gently, removing her hands from the act of rearranging his facial features, “in this house, we must keep our hands to ourselves,” he warned without heat.

Caroline cackled from the bed, her laughter nearly splitting her sides. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh, the irony of you making such a claim!” Dwight shot her a look, which was met by a wicked smile.

Sophie, completely unaware as to what was going on besides the fact she was awake and with her two favourite people, sought to gain her father’s full attention again and gripped a small handful of his lightly greying hair.

“Someone is quite put out that not all the attention is on her,” Caroline commented, amused as she watched Dwight wince as he tried to pry Sophie’s hand from his head without removing half of his hair.

“A face she must learn to get used to. I wonder who taught her such behaviour in the first instance!”

“Hmm,” was all Caroline said.

Sophie began to fuss slightly in Dwight’s arms but fussed more at the prospect of being put back into her crib; Dwight sighed and wiped his face.

Caroline stood up and approached them, pausing to wave Sophie’s hand. She still seemed slightly displeased. “Why do you not sing to her?” Caroline suggested, looking at Dwight.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You truly believe that will work?” Sophie began to whimper, a storm of wails very much looming on the horizon.

Caroline shrugged and made a face at her daughter. “She seems to enjoy it usually.”

Dr Enys bounced Sophie up and down in an attempt to soothe her. “And you - do you enjoy it?” he teased his wife, though his eyes were soft.

Caroline ignored the soft allure of his blue eyes. “I enjoy teasing you about it,” she answered.

“You enjoying teasing me about everything.”

“Is that a complaint, I hear, Dr Enys?”

Dwight schooled a smile. “No, no complaints, my love,” he insisted, continuing to bounce Sophie, who was beginning to become more relaxed.

“I have a complaint,” Caroline announced without any trace of irony, “my husband promised my daughter and I a song and has failed to deliver on his word.”

Dwight gently rolled his eyes at his wife before taking a breath and softly singing:

“My sweetheart, come along, don't you hear the fond song,

The sweet notes of the nightingale flow?

Don't you hear the fond tale of the sweet nightingale

As she sings in the valley below.”

Sophie shrieked in delight at the sound of the nice song her father sang to her before putting her arms around his neck as far as they would go. She then gently rested her cheek against his, offering her mama a gummy - almost teasing - smile.

“A more blatant preference I’ve yet to see,” said Caroline, attempting to sound offended, which was undermined by the softness of her eyes as she looked at them.

Dwight laughed and squished their cheeks together, father and daughter both smiling. Dwight then continued humming and began to dance with his daughter. “Then it is fortunate another child is on the way, perhaps it may prefer you and we shall be even once again,” he teased, knowing Sophie’s allegiances changed within the hour depending on what mood she was in.

Smoothing her skirts, Caroline took a seat on the bed once again. “Yes,” she murmured, a small smile on her face as she rested her hand on her still flat abdomen. “Perhaps it may be for the best, after all.” After a further few moments of studying her husband interacting with their daughter, Caroline stood up, wondering as she came to stand next to them: “Do you not have patients to see?”

“Why?” Dr Enys asked, a smirk dancing on his lips; he kissed the crown of Sophie’s head, which was beginning to produce more pronounced blonde ringlets. “Are you kicking me out?”

Caroline delicately lifted her foot and tapped his shin with it. “Yes.”

“Indefinitely?” He handed their daughter to his wife.

“Indefinitely. You must take all your ghastly potions and tonics with you and never return.”

A sigh escaped Dwight’s lips. “Will you at least grant me a goodbye kiss from my two most beloved women?”

Caroline schooled a smile. “Why? Are they here?” She kissed him softly and Dwight bent his head and gladly accepted Sophie’s pro-offered sloppy kiss.

Dr Enys picked up his medical bag and sighed heavily. He nostalgically ran his hand over the curves of the bed frame, the plushness of the chaise-lounge, the crystal door handle. He turned it and opened the oak door.

Caroline watched him go. “What time shall you be home for supper?”

“Around six, my love,” Dr Enys answered, offering her and his child a soft smile before stepping into the corridor.

“You has best not go back on your word!” Caroline called after him, envisioning the fish pie they would eat together later, “or you shall no doubt have the Lord’s wrath to contend with for the breaking of one of his Rules.”

“Commandments,” Dwight corrected his wife, who was, by her own definition, a perfect heathen. The doctor’s head appeared from around the doorframe. “It may please you to know that the prospect of the Lord’s wrath is not nearly as unpleasant as the prospect of your wrath, Caroline.”

Caroline arched an eyebrow and smirked at her husband. “So I should hope.”

With a quick, mischievous grin, Dr Enys disappeared down the corridor to begin his rounds.

[zenithlux]

Soooo.... About the rest of Vergil's drunkin' promises... (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

I’ve actually had more than one request for these, and I wasn’t quite sure when I would tackle it. But now that I have this rather adorable request in my inbox, my brain was finally like I GOTCHU FAM(S), so now here we are. 😏 I’ve finally built up the courage edited this story enough to post. 

This is a follow up to Intoxication and Promises (but you don’t really need either if ya don’t want). Also, I’m still practicing the spice, so uhhh… there’s that. 

And it’s also NSFW. So here’s a nice Vergil picture because… I mean why not?

High Praises

Ashira might have wondered how she’d gotten herself into this predicament if Vergil gave her a second to do so. But every time she tried to form a coherent thought, he’d nip at her thigh in a silent “warning” of some kind (though she wasn’t opposed to seeing where that “warning” might lead, given the circumstances). When she tried to admonish him for that he’d lick in just the right spot where her words either died on her lips or came out as a jumbled mess. At some point, she’d given up completely and had pulled on his hair in some kind of lame defiance.

Except he loved it when she did that, so that “defiance” was very, very short-lived. 

But fuck. All of this - his wicked thoughts, devilish tongue, and the way he just stared straight into her eyes without any hesitation or shame - had her so close to tumbling straight off the metaphorical precipice that she was half surprised she’d managed to stay on the bed. 

Though considering the way his hands had all but clamped down on her hips, maybe that wasn’t all that surprising.

He’d caught her off-guard earlier when he’d quite literally and without warning knelt in front of her when she had tried to get out of bed. And he’d been completely silent as he’d gently glided one of her legs over his shoulder and planted an absurd amount of butterfly kisses along her thigh. “My beautiful queen,” He’d murmured, dragging the silk of her own damn nightgown so tenderly against her skin that all she could do was shiver, eyes locked on his. And he’d stared right back. In fact, Ashira was quite certain his eyes hadn’t deviated from that one spot, even when her own threatened to roll into the back of her head. “It seems I have some… atoning to do.”

“For…?”

She hissed as his teeth grazed along her thigh. “I made a promise,” He said. “And I have yet to fulfill it. A faux pas on my part, but nothing that can’t be remedied.” His voice was unfairly seductive and unbearably husky. Though considering the myriad of ways he’d used it over their rather long married life, she was more than used to hearing it. 

It didn’t make him any less pleasing to listen to. If anything, it made her find ways to hear this version of him more often. 

So, in her haze of arousal she’d smiled back and said, “And here I thought you forgot.”

He slid his hands up along her hips, pulling her nightgown out of the way. “I never forget.”

“Except when you’re hopelessly drunk.”

Ashira fully accepted the more forceful bite she got for that. Not enough to break skin- never that - but certainly enough to leave a mark. “Careful,” He murmered as he drug the pads of his fingers back down her abdomen and along the elastic of her underwear. “Or I may just forget right now.”

“Never,” She said as she drew small, lazy circles along his knuckles. “That would be dishonorable.” And while that would probably be enough permission for most people, Vergil still waited, even as his eyes hazed over with his own arousal. And as Ashira finally felt the last remnants of her sleepiness fade away, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “Which promise, my love?”

“If you put your trust in me,” He said as he drug her panties down in such an agonizing place that it took everything she had to keep from bucking right into his face. “I’ll worship you, as a Queen should be.”

The first time he had said it however long ago (six months? A year? Bah it didn’t matter) had been arousing enough, but she’d brushed it off as it had only been spoken after she’d managed to get him wrapped up in an absurd amount of blankets. And of all the promises he’d made that night, that was the one she assumed he’d never remember. It hadn’t been part of the long, drunk ramble where he’d practically agreed to sleep with her on the moon if she’d asked, so she didn’t think that she’d given him that particular part of the memory. Clearly, it had drifted between them at some point; she just didn’t know when. 

The second time, however, had her stomach flipping in pure desire

His expression turned a touch too smug. “I never forget, my beloved.”

Now here she was, struggling to keep herself upright, much less hold herself back. Vergil was far too good at this; something she had both known and forgotten at some point in the last however long. The reminder, while torturous in all the right ways, was welcome. But beneath her pleasure was a hint of frustration. She wanted more, and was positive that he knew it too. 

“Impatient, my love?” His coy voice echoed in her mind. “This is all for you.” 

She tugged on his hair again in mock annoyance. “Says the one in control.”

A soft hum echoed back as his tongue circled her clit. “Dammit Verg-” Even her thoughts vanished as his fingers slipped through her folds with astounding ease. Her arms shook with a mix of pleasure and exertion, and she wanted nothing more than to just flop back onto the bed and let him do whatever he wanted. But when her eyes trailed to the ceiling, he stopped moving - again. That was quickly becoming his favorite tease - and she forced herself to meet his gaze. His finger pressed against her most sensitive spot in silent praise, and she couldn’t fight back the groan of pleasure. “Why must you do this to me?”

He chuckled, his breath much too warm against her skin. “You would do the same.”

She had done the same, in fact, but she was much too stubborn to admit it. And even if she wanted to, the pressure of a second finger wiped her mind of any suitable response. She barely noticed when his lips drifted to her stomach. She didn’t wonder how he kept such an infuriating pace while completely ignoring her own attempts to push back against him. When his lips met hers, she was too busy trying to find more friction to question how he’d actually gotten there. 

He pulled away far too soon; both his lips and his fingers from her core. She growled, clenching her muscles in an attempt to keep him there. But he simply smirked and slipped right out regardless. “You’re much too wet for that, my Queen.” Her second attempt to intimidation was cut short by a sinful moan as his teeth grazed down on the pulse in her neck. His fingers caressed her spine, painting her skin with her own fluids. 

“You coy, sinful, infuriating devil.”

He bit her neck in response, before peppering her collarbone with a mixture of kisses and nibbles. When he reached the other side, the hand on her back slipped under her thigh as his knee teasingly pressed against her entrance. The silk of his pants was pure heaven against her swollen clit, and she bit her lip to keep from begging for him. Of course, her desire swirled in her mind as often as his name. When she finally dared to speak it, he silenced her with a kiss as he effortlessly lifted her enough to push them both back onto the bed. 

Ashira’s eyes widened as he sat up, stripping off his cumbersome shirt before swooping in for another kiss. She arched into him, sighing in content when he pushed her back down with his chest, pinning her to the bed beneath him. His hands found her wrists, but he lightly scraped the skin of her arms in endless and nonsensical lines. 

“Let me,” She murmured as she tugged gently at his hand. He paused for a moment, face buried in the crook of her neck. Their hearts were in perfect sync, practically crashing into each other with each erratic beat. But that was normal. They both knew each other so well. He the most sensitive pieces of her skin, and exactly how to draw whatever sound of hers he wanted. But she knew what he wanted, too; tender brushes through his scalp (or not so tender, under the right circumstances). Soft lines traced against the muscles of his arms, shoulders, or chest. And as she tugged on those memories in his own head- two decades of knowledge- he eventually let one of her hands go as he pressed his own down to steady himself. She kissed him in appreciation and brushed along his arm. His head didn’t move, and a quiet groan against Ashira’s neck made her shiver. 

“Vergil,” She whispered. He knew she was desperate, no matter how controlled she kept her voice. But she knew he’d done the same to himself. As she pressed her fingers along the muscles of his arm, she gently rolled her hips against the mound he could no longer hide. There was a small attempt to pull away from her, but a second kiss brought him right back. “Don’t hold back, my love.”

He lifted himself just enough to meet her eyes. But even in the clutches of desire, he still managed a smirk. “Is my Queen begging?”

She felt her demon-half bristle before she could stop it. But as her eyes changed, so did his: bright, draconic blue staring down at golden irises. But she didn’t want blind passion. Not after he’d spent so achingly long attending to her while expecting nothing in return. Despite his clear need, she knew from his thoughts that he would be content to drive her to her own peak, and save his own for another time.

But that’s not what she wanted. And this was technically a promise for her. So, she reached up and brushed her thumb along his cheekbone. “If that is what you wish from me,” She said. “Then yes, my king. I submit to you.”

He was gone for only a moment, yet her heart swelled the second he returned. She slid her hand back into his, and he lifted it to his lips, kissing each knuckle with equal tenderness. On the last one, he intertwined their fingers. When he leaned in to press a kiss to her temple, he guided himself deep into her core; slow and sensual. A simple gesture that pushed her close to tears. Once he’d pushed himself in as far as possible, he paused, kissing the corners of both of her eyes before capturing her lips again. 

His pace was slow, but Ashira found she didn’t mind it. Life always seemed to move a bit too fast nowadays. Too many people demanding too many things in such a short amount of time. Stolen kisses were often all they could manage. And if they found time for intimacy, it was going to be slow. Not necessarily gentle, as they both found thrill in aggressive love making as they did anything else, but drawn-out pleasure that would tide them over until they had another chance.

And the gentle rocking of his hips with hers was more than enough. Each thrust pushed him as deep as she could take him, and each pull drew out her own pleasure in an endless cycle. After some time, his head fell back into her shoulder, and she slid her fingers along his scalp before pulling him as close as she could. A comfortable warmth radiated between them. Their intertwined hands were off to the side, anchoring them both into some kind of reality. And as her legs quivered, and a warmth bloomed from her chest, she squeezed his hand tighter. When pleasure ripped through her muscles, all she could do was whisper his name over and over again like a wonderful, reverent prayer. 

And when her mind finally settled somewhat back into her body, his pace quickened, chasing his own pleasure. She rolled with him, rubbing circles along the base of his neck. He lifted his head from her shoulder, and pressed it back against her forehead. “Look at me, Saina.” His demonic eyes snapped open in a heartbeat, and she felt him teeter on the edge, searching for that last little push. “I’m here,” She said. “I’ve got you.”

His hand tightened on hers when he finally found his release. Even as he kissed her senseless, he felt his warmth splitting within her. A breathy moan escaped, followed by his own shudder as her pleasure looped back in on him. She kissed him gently to pull him back, and the two waited in comfortable silence. When their bodies finally relaxed- aside from their deep, content breathing- he pulled away and drew her back toward their pillows. She curled against his chest, smiling as he tried to pry out the blankets from under her. He gave up halfway, oddly impatient, and grabbed a fleece one from under the bed. “At least nothing caught on fire this time,” Ashira mumbled as she wrapped her arms around his stomach and nuzzled his chest. 

Vergil snorted. “Pythy still isn’t over that.”

“And he never will be,” She said as her eyes drifted shut. “He’ll be laughing about it in his grave if the old geezer ever manages to find one.”

Vergil’s gentle laugh was enough for her to ease into a quiet slumber. 

[bionic-buckyb]

Taking Chances: Part 5

A Bucky x Thor x Reader / Polyamorous Roomate AU series

Masterlist 

-; In a city like Brooklyn, finding a new apartment at short notice is next to impossible. Luckily for you, your best friend Wanda knows two friends who’ve been searching a third roommate. Bucky and Thor are ideal housemates, almost too good to be true, and they both want to show you how much they care about you - together.

A/N: I just want to start out by thanking you all so much for being so patient in waiting for this part, and for all the beautiful feedback you’ve given me. I’m so sorry for taking so long! I hope this part lives up to it. Big things (pun intended) are coming. Every ask, reblog, reply, and like is SO appreciated. Let me know what you think, and if you want me to continue. ♥

Word Count: 2,236

Tags: (at the end)

Warnings: - polyamorous relationship. if this makes you uncomfortable, don’t read it. - eventual smut, just not yet. i’ll tag appropriately when it does come up and mark the post as sensitive.

*gifs are not mine. (found on google, no credible source)

As you watched Thor walk out of his bedroom door to head to work, you felt like a piece of your heart went with him. It was such a strange perception, having such strong feelings for two people at once; a phenomenon that you may never truly get used to. His promise of you being his and his alone when he got home made your stomach twist and turn in the most delightful way. It seemed your brain left with him too, until Bucky brought you back down to reality.

His fingers moved under your shirt, the pads of his fingertips tracing patterns along the spot just below your belly button. He gripped your waist and pulled you closer to him, as he rested his chin in the crook of your neck.

“Yanno,” Bucky said, the scruff along his jawline scratching your cheek as he spoke. “Thor and I had no intention of seeking out a… shared girlfriend.”

“Oh? So, you mean to tell me that the topic never came up?”

“I swear, it never did. When you walked in the door that day to see the apartment, we both felt this… attraction. We couldn’t ignore it. When we both wanted to… pursue you, we decided maybe the both of us could.”

“And what if I would’ve said no?”

“Obviously, it was your choice. It was always about you and how you felt, about making you feel comfortable. This is your home just as much as ours but, if you said no, we would have, of course, respected that.”

“But, what if I only decided to date one of you?”

“It was never a competition. We would’ve respected your decision regardless. Thor’s ego most likely would have been bruised, but it’s not about us. It never was. If you didn’t want either of us, we would’ve gotten over it.”

“I mean, Thor is… beautiful, don’t get me wrong. But Bucky, so are you,” you said softly, taking your fingers and carding them through his long, wavy hair. It was so thick in your fingers, and so soft; like the finest woven silk. He smiled at your words, crinkles begging to be touched appearing by his eyes.

“Thanks doll,” he replied sweetly, taking your hand from his hair and kissing each finger delicately. “If we’re being completely honest, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met, but I want to know what’s in here.”

Bucky took his index finger and placed it over your where your heart lay inside your chest. It was beating so wildly, you were sure he could feel its pulse through the pad of his finger. Your bodies were so close, your legs intertwined and twisted together like a soft pretzel. The warmth of his body surrounded you like a warm blanket.

“Is it okay if I… kiss you?” you asked, and watched as his sapphire eyes sparkled when they locked with yours.

Bucky didn’t even answer your question. He leaned in and his lips met your own, and your heart soared dizzily. At first it was a gentle kiss, as if he was afraid of breaking you, but once you began to respond, once your body wriggled next to him, Bucky kissed you with so much passion you saw stars. 

His hands moved to cup your face, his fingers resting right below your ear, on the crook of your jaw. His tongue expertly danced with your own, suckling on your bottom lip like a piece of hard candy. Bucky’s mouth tasted so good, like peppermint toothpaste with a hint of the vanilla bean coffee he’d drank that morning. He pulled away from you suddenly, and rested his forehead against your own.

“You smell amazing,” he whispered, his mouth moving to kiss a trail from your chin, down your jaw, to your collarbone. “Intoxicating. I’m sure you taste even better…”

“Bucky…” you said breathlessly, unable to form any other coherent sentences. Hearing his name come out of your mouth made him chuckle against your skin. Goosebumps appeared on your arms that were now wrapped around his neck.

“I have to wait though,” he sighed, pulling away from you slightly, but not fully. “Thor and I promised each other that we’d have you together first.”

“But it’s up to me…”

“Yes, of course it is. Everything is up to you. We both want to make you feel as loved as possible, together. Especially for the first time. Then, whenever you decide, you can have us both at separate times if you’d like. If not, everything that we do can be together.”

“I feel like this is more my relationship than our relationship. I want us all to communicate together. I want everyone to be heard, not just me.”

Bucky smiled, let out a small laugh, and shook his head.

“You are an enigma. Do you know how many other women would go running out of this apartment at the mention of something like this? It’s too complicated there’s… too many rules.”

“Rules?”

“Well, Thor has rules of his own but… I’m sure you’ll see later, won’t you? He’ll explain for himself. That’s not my place.”

Your body shifted at the mention of Thor having rules. He did seem like the dominant type, whereas Bucky was definitely more the silent, sensitive, and soft type. It seemed like you were getting the best of both worlds in this situation.

“Come--” Bucky said, breaking you from your thoughts again. He took your hand in his, placed a soft kiss at the back of it, and helped you up from the bed. “I’m sure you’re starving. I’ll make you lunch.”

He led you to the kitchen, and you watched as he tottled around, making you both a grilled cheese sandwich. You had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky. Were you living a dream? Would you wake up at any moment and all of this be gone?

You and Bucky spent the next hour or so just talking. He wanted to know everything about you, and you, in turn, asked him the same questions. You found out that he and Thor were fashion designers, partners, who worked from a large office space just down the street.

“We’d love to have you walk for us one day,” he said, sliding your grilled cheese towards you on the plate, as he sat down next to you. “Seeing you in one of our pieces would probably make Thor implode.”

You moaned with delight as you bit into the almost too good sandwich, then proceeded to almost choke at Bucky’s words. He softly laughed, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. It seemed to be something he’d grown accustomed to doing, especially when you amused him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, biting into his own grilled cheese.

“Um, me… walking in a fashion show.”

“Wait… why?”

His face looked genuinely concerned, as if you were talking nonsense, speaking a foreign language.

“Bucky, have you seen me?”

“Uh, yeah. I have, Thor has. And trust me, we love what we see. You’d be perfect for our new line. I’ll talk to Thor tonight, and we’ll be sure to take you there tomorrow to try some stuff on and show you where we work. Is that okay with you?”

“I--uh… sure.”

“Please, trust me. I promise it’ll be great.”

“What will be great?” a booming, gravely, disgustingly attractive voice spoke from behind you both. You turned quickly, almost putting a crick in your neck.

“Taking our beautiful girl here to the studio tomorrow,” Bucky replied, kissing your cheek. Thor put his briefcase and blazer on the counter and walked over to you, his eyes only set on you. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “Is that so?” he quipped, taking your face in his large hands. Thor brushed his thumb across your cheek, and every nerve in your body was on fire. “What do you think of that, dove?”

“I-I’d like to check it out,” you stuttered, your face growing hot as his clear aqua eyes pierced into you. “Not making any promises though.”

“And why not?” he asked, as Bucky got up from the island and began to clear your plates.

“She feels like she won’t look good in our clothes,” Bucky chimed in.

“I beg to differ,” Thor replied, taking your hand in his ridiculously large one and giving it a squeeze. “In fact, I started to design another piece today with your… delectable body shape in mind.”

As he said this, he released your hand and traced his fingers along your rib cage, ever so delicately. Your body actually twitched at the contact and he immediately noticed, causing a mischievous smile to spread across his face. You were speechless.

“I do believe it’s our time to be alone,” Thor said softly, taking your hand and guiding you off of the stool. Bucky dried his hands on the dish towel laid out on the counter, walked over to you and kissed your lips softly, before placing his hand on Thor’s shoulder and walking into the living room. You were alone with Thor now, and his presence was much more demanding than Bucky’s.

“I have to say,” you managed to blurt out. “You sure know how to intimidate a girl.”

“Oh?” he questioned, arching his brow. “I intimidate you?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Come,” he said, his tone soft but with meaning. His fingers laced with yours, and your hand felt positively minuscule wrapped in his own. “We’ll talk alone.”

Thor guided you down the hallway but didn’t stop at his bedroom. Instead, he lead you to the bathroom.

“We’re not going to cuddle?” you asked, trying your hardest to hide the disappointment in your voice. Thor smiled again, and your heart melted.

“There is all the time in the world for cuddling, sweet dove. Will you sit in the hot tub with me instead? I could use the relaxation after a long day at work.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you watched him start to undress. Your entire body was absolutely in flames. He was cut and chiseled in all the best places. Veins popped from his muscular arms, the muscles in his shoulders working under his skin as he took off his shirt. Your jaw dropped as he unzipped his pants slowly, making eye contact with you, the only sound audible in the room was his descending zipper. Swallowing hard, you looked away.

“Do I embarrass you?” he asked, furrowing his brow, as he stood in front of you in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.

“N-no, I just… I…”

He took your hand and brought you close to him, until you were chest to chest.

“Do I make you… uncomfortable?”

“In the best ways possible,” you managed to say. His soft smile turned you into a puddle on the floor.

“I believe you’re a tad… over dressed for the jacuzzi. Do you mind if I help you?”

You shook your head that you, of course, didn’t mind, and watched as his long, skillful fingers took the hem of your shirt and peeled it over your head. You helped and shimmied out of your shorts, and you stood in front of him in your bra and panties. You felt exposed, but you felt confident, as you watched Thor lick his lips at the sight of you.

“Exquisite,” he breathed, wrapping his fingers along your hips, feeling your skin. “Just perfect.”

Thor turned on the jets of the hot tub and poured some oils into the water. The room filled with steam and the scent of lavender. Your mind immediately relaxed as you stepped into the tub. You started out in your own seat, but he quickly took hold of your forearm and pulled you to sit in his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs around his middle, you laid your head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. The jets rushed the water around you both in swirls, and you had never been more at peace in your entire life.

“This is nice,” you muttered into his skin, inhaling the scent of him. He hands moved up and down your back, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter closed. Shaking the sleep from your brain, you pulled back to look at Thor’s face. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“This is all too perfect. I’m just… so grateful.”

“No, my love. It is us who are grateful for you. You chose to accept Bucky and I both into your life. We are yours.”

You let out a deep sigh, before laying your head back down on his shoulder. It was silent, as you listening to the sound of the jets.

“What is troubling you?”

“I’m not… troubled. It’s just something Bucky said to me earlier.”

“Oh?”

“He said you have… rules.”

Thor chuckled, and you felt the vibration from his vocal cords course through your body. It was a beautiful sound.

“Sexual rules, yes. But they are to be explained at another time.”

He said it with such finality, that you didn’t want to press it any further.

“Don’t worry,” he continued. “You will find out when the time is right. No reason to rush things.”

He wrapped his strong arms around you, and you nuzzled your nose into his neck. You felt so safe here, so content, that you didn’t remember falling asleep against his chest.

@howlingbarnes @captainrogerss @theashhole @sebbytrash @odinhson @captain-rogers-beard @avengerofyourheart @beccaanne814 @interwebseriesfan24 @moodygrip @me-a-hopeless-romantic @royallylazy @keshuasd @danijimenezv @memyselfandmaddox @doublephoeenix @badassbaker @akoya-pearls @rainbowkisses31 @queenoftrash97 @asguardiansoftheavengers @princess-basket-case @marvelmakesmefeelthings @ajimagines @seabasstiantrash @castiel11235 @supernaturalpotternerd @storytelling-reader @thatwriterizzy @angieptt @bulaklakas @crazybutconfidentaf @redqueen1221 @tera-rose @coley0823 @reejero @clean-and-claire @metalarmlover @pooslie  @thenewmrsweasley @samandstuffworld @the-people-read-marvel-spn @witchymarvelspacecase @chingaderastillidie @marvel-ingatbucky @jessicao19 @tchallaholla @shylittleone @selfpoisoned @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @vaisabu @proper-english @latin-lover01 @cornerchild @castielsgrace-idjits @whovianlord @n3rdybirdy33 @tardis-is-mine @spaz8550 @literalangels @paintballkid711 @avengers-do-it-better @SlytherclawHPnerd @eatmysaltynyass  @alyssaj23 @titty-teetee @brightbabylon @charlie1987me @mdgrdians @autoblocked @dustycelt @deamstellarus @colorfulcutiepie @xx-ss-bb @part-time-patronus @stuckyfox @ruckystarnes @lexie-mo @aliciaxnoo @landlesshaven @pandigirl11 @herehaveacookie @vgurl18 @huntermichelle @yagirlkianah @sebvrnes @i-write-fins-not-tragedies @catrout @sexyvixen7 @iamunderoos @whimsicalbarnes @benadrylcumberbitchh @starry-barnes @jeffersonsmadgirl @sebashtiansatan @girlwhoisfearless @notanothersong. @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @teamcap4bucky @ironstank @kaneki-ken-deserves-better @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock @gohomelauren @celinejfong @maydaymir @le-roman-rose @givemelifeorgiveme @marvel-love-marvel-life @hejahockey @paybackbarnes @illbewendyyoubepeter @moonlessnight14 @i-am-always-famished @wolfarrowepz @nogethelp @butifulsoul125@20hannahbear01 @yaz-winchester67 @ediblemurderer  @goddess-of-silvers@foreverbelieveinyourdreams @miss-mcbotty @capisicles   

Tags are CLOSED. I’m sorry!

*urls with strikethroughs could not be tagged. sorry!

[red2007]

New fic

Accord

red2007

Summary: A mostly Scully-sided look at the few moments beyond the final scene of Triangle and a simple, possibly canon-compliant gesture.

Notes: Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. If I had there would have been sex. *shrug* Suck it Chris Carter.

Rating: G

“Oh, brother.” She turned slowly, with hesitation and walked calmly out of the room. Out of the room was as far as she got.

Where the hell did that come from? She thought to herself as she stood in the hallway, just to the left of his door. Their carefully constructed partnership built on a deep mutual trust and respect coupled with a unique ability to communicate and coordinate seamlessly with nothing more than body language was leaping into uncharted territory. Emotional territory, at least, acknowledged emotional territory. They’d been in emotional territory since the first time he’d argued with her, that first day in his office. They’d been steeped in emotions since that first night in Oregon with a heartfelt conversation in his hotel room by candle light. Hours after she’d all but showed up naked in a panic at his door. Fine, she decided to herself. We’ve been emotional for years, but did he have to say that?

He’d told her repeatedly how much she meant to him and vice versa. They both had a keen understanding that trust, in their line of work and circumstances in which they repeatedly found themselves, was difficult to come by. She’d trusted him enough to shoot him for his own good. He’d trusted her enough to risk prison to buy him time with a congressional hearing. At any given point, beyond a shadow of a doubt she knew he was always looking out for her. She knew she’s proven just how much she’s willing to put on the line to save him. Her entire reputation. Her legacy. Her honor. She wasn’t sure if her father would have been proud or ashamed of that fact.

I’d offer again in a heartbeat. The thought came suddenly and unbidden and she found herself leaning up against the wall to steady herself. The Gunmen had left believing Mulder high on pain killers after all the nonsense he was spouting. With all his crazy talk, it would seem as much, but she knew better. Antibiotics to curb any infections from a few open scratches and water inhalation due to prolonged exposure. And a nice shiner over his left cheekbone that he hadn’t complained about once. They hadn’t given him anything stronger than a couple Advil. A completely lucid and fully functioning Mulder had told her that he loved her.

And why should that even surprise me? She pondered. Of course he loved her, of course she loved him. They both had a deep…affection for the other. Like siblings, she assured herself and then immediately moved her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Fine, not like siblings, she admitted reluctantly. Siblings didn’t almost kiss in hallways. Siblings didn’t sometimes feel a literal snap of electricity and heat when they touched or looked lingeringly at each other. Siblings don’t LOOK at each other lingeringly, she groaned. Siblings also don’t feel relief, panic, and euphoria at the knowledge that the other feels the same about them.

But I can’t tell him. There’s too much at stake. With Kersh breathing down their necks every second of every day, how they managed to keep this excursion from him thus far was a miracle. If she was being incredibly honest with herself, she was still exceedingly pissed about the thing with Diana. She was pissed at the sheer presence of Diana. In her position. In her office. On the X-Files. In Mulder's life. The woman was a damned menace and dirty as could be. Dana Scully was not one to be possessive but the appearance…or more, reappearance of Diana Fowley had cast quite a green shadow over her partnership with Mulder.

I still do love him though, she chided herself. There was no point in denying it, even if she knew she couldn’t return the sentiment. Fine lines needed to be drawn. If they were ever going to work together, if they were ever going to tow this line with Kersh and eventually get their department back there had to be as few complications as possible. Love, or more, acknowledgement of love, was a complication. One they couldn’t afford. Right now, she added internally. Someday they’d throw caution to the wind, she’d kiss him senseless, profess all the repressed feelings she’s held for years and see if their passion equaled that of her fantasies. She promised herself as much. Someday. For now, however she knew that he’d made himself vulnerable for her. He probably believed that she assumed he was drugged and out of his mind. He’d probably been counting on that as a buffer in case she’d completely blown him off. Which you did, Dana, admit it.But maybe somewhere he knew that she had already checked his chart out of habit. They both knew wholeheartedly that he meant every word. They also knew there was an out, in case of emergency. He felt safe enough to be open with her, the least she could do is give him some sort of a sign. Innocuous enough that he’d understand but also realize that it wasn’t the time yet. She couldn’t leave him hanging like this.

She stood and glanced at his door once more before walking briskly to the nearest nurse’s station. She found his nurse and with a sweet smile said, “I need you to do me a favor.”

Mulder was still leaning gingerly on his pillow, the sting from his bruise a constant reminder that it had happened. He lay there with a faint smile and a dreamy expression on his face, replaying the whole thing in his mind. The curve of her head, the pressure of her lips, the brief taste of her tongue…he felt intoxicated while completely sober. In a matter of hours, he’d kissed a Scully and told his that he loved her. Yeah, he was feeling pretty high. Of course, she hadn’t said it back—he hadn’t expected her to. It wasn’t time yet. He’d just seen a rare opportunity and jumped at the chance. He was still in his state of bliss when his nurse came in with a purpose. She set down a large Styrofoam container on his side table while she proceeded to check his vitals. When she’d finished and charted her findings she stuck a straw in the cup she’d brought.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. But for now, get some rest.” She handed him the cup and with a wink added, “Your partner wanted me to give you this. Good night.”

Mulder took the cup, but he already knew its contents. She couldn’t say it, he understood that but she knew. She knew he was coherent, knew he was telling the truth, knew that it wasn’t time, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved her.

He took a long, jubilant sip from his cup of iced tea and told himself, it is most definitely love.

[dontbeallupinmyfriesdawg]

Okay so I'm going to write these T'akia headcanons because I've been dying to and I need cheering up.

So T'Challa and Nakia grew up together from when they were children

Nakia's tribe has always been very prominent and close to the royal family she practically grew up in the palace.

I imagine they train children in Wakanda from a young age to be skilled in combat so the first time they meet T'Challa and Nakia are paired as sparring partners and Nakia wipes the floor with him.

Anyone present will tell you that Nakia won because she was clearly the more skilled and talented fighter, which is true

But the real reason T'Challa fell flat on his ass is because he spent the entire fight mesmerised by Nakia so she took him out effortlessly in a matter of seconds.

Imagine baby!Nakia towering over T'Challa scowling "You didn't even try!"

Meanwhile T'Challa's on the floor grinning like an idiot, look at her like she's the sun thinking "I'm gonna marry that girl,"

Naturally after that day T'Challa follows Nakia around like a lost puppy (something that everyone especially his mother finds hilarious). Nakia doesn't mind as long as he keeps up with her and goes along with her numerous schemes (or 'missions', as she likes to call them), whether it's scalling the tallest tree she can find or sneaking into the palace kitchens to swipe a snack. T'Challa is right behind her. Eventually the two become inseparable.

I like to think that spot in the movie up on the cliff is their spot and they go there whenever they want to talk privately for hours and escape T'Challa's security or their parents. If one of them is upset then the other all knows they can find them there. And it's the best place to watch the sunset. (One of their favourite activities)

Nakia has always expressed interest in becoming a war dog, reluctant to remain complacently in Wakanda and assume leadership of her tribe like everyone else.

This prospect terrifies T'Challa because he's not naive, he knows all about the outside world and that not everywhere is a safe and as peaceful as Wakanda. His uncle was a war dog and he never returned home. But he knows better than to try and discourage Nakia or patronise her (because she'd kick his ass and he respects her far to much, plus he knows it's her dream and wants to be supportive but at the same time he also wants to latch his arms around one of her ankles and beg her not to go anywhere)

Their first kiss happens under a tree in the palace gardens Nakia is 16 T'Challa is 17.

He's listening to her speak about the world and how much good she wants to do in it (that conversation in the market place in BP can't have been the first one they've ever had on the issue) she so passionate, her eyes light up and she gesturres contantly and he can't help but stare because she's so beautiful and brilliant and how can she not know how in love with her he is.

Caught up in that train of thought T'Challa forgets to actually listen to what Nakia is saying and earns himself a hard whack on the chest as she questions whether he is listening to her.

Instead of answering he just keeps staring with a weird look on his face and Nakia considers going to get Zuri or someone inside for help because T'Challa is possibly having a stroke.

Some magical wave of courage overcomes him, T'Challa's brain switches off momentarily and he leans in to kiss her.

It's so sudden it takes Nakia by surprise.

This kiss is so gentle tho, T'Challa holds Nakia's face like he's afraid he's going to break her and brushes his lips against her in the sweetest barely there kisses that leaves them both breathless.

For a split second after its over T'Challa goes into panic mode and thinks that Nakia might knock him out or worse never speak to him again but before he can explain himself (the coherent apology he formed in his head coming out as stuttered nonsense) Nakia reaches out and takes his chin gently in her hand brushing her thumb over his lip before kissing him back.

During that second kiss he holds her so tightly under that tree like he's afraid its the last time he'll ever get to do it.

The agree to keep their relationship a 'secret' because they're unsure if the King and Queen will approve and they'd rather not be under scrutiny anyway.

The tea is that they're both idiots because literally anyone with eyes knows they're a couple.

Ramonda's known since they were toddlering around in diapers long before either of them remember. A mother knows her son and Ramonda knows Nakia is going to be her future daughter in law as soon as a six year old T'Challa returns from sparring practice proudly bearing a bruise on his forehead given to him by Nakia.

Shuri's too young to notice anything at first (or care) but she catches on to T'Challa's crush real quick "For Baast's sake will you just tell her!?" (because the kid is sharp)

and she figures out his and Nakia's 'secret relationship' in about 0.5 seconds. "A war dog trainee and the future black panther and neither of you can keep a secret to save your lives"

Okoye definitely knows cus she knows everything but doesn't bring it up to the king because she had only just become general at the time and is a stickler for proper conduct and that would be inappropriate. However she's not above giving him those looks when he and Nakia are somewhere they're supposed to be paying attention (like being addressed by the king or something) making eyes at each other instead of listening.

T'Challa tells Nakia he loves her for the first time right before she leaves for her first war dog mission.

It is not customary for a royal family member to see off war dogs before they depart but T'Challa goes anyway.

He waits to the very last minute when Nakia is promising to write and email Shuri with her progress, to hit her with "I love you,"

She kind of just panics and kisses him before leaving

And T'Challa spends the entire two months she's gone worried sick a) for her safety and b) that he's embarrassed himself by saying I love you too quickly and ruined their relationship.

He's so miserable the whole time that Shuri can't even bring herself to tease him

Although she can't resist bringing him glasses of milk and gently petting his head while murmering "There, there kitty,"

When Nakia finally comes back he is obviously the first the greet her. She's actually bruised all over and covered in dirt when she returns but she's still the most beautiful sight T'Challa's ever seen including the Wakandan sunset

They both forget themselves and run to each other. T'Challa picks her up and they embrace and Okoye, Ramonda and Shuri just stand in the background and smile at the two idiots .

T'Chaka looks hella confused tho because he is literally the only oblivious one in the family. (Zuri has to lean over and explain)

When he finally puts her down Nakia cups his face and says she loves him too and that's she's sorry she didn't say it before and T'Challa's heart feels as if it's going to burst.

Like Danai once said in an interview it's kind of obvious who broke up with who (although like Lupita said it was less of a break up and more an agreement on difference). Either way Nakia definitely inniatiates and even though it breaks his heart T'Challa agrees because he just wants to make her happy.

You cannot tell me T'Challa didn't keep tabs on Nakia during her missions tho.

Like he knows she can handle herself but there are at least five war dogs dotted around the globe who's sole purpose are to keep tabs on Nakia.

Bonus points: if Nakia has identified each and every one of them and has warned them firmly to stay out of her way.

After the events of the film T'Challa proposes to Nakia under the tree where they had their first kiss with his father's ring.

[moritzstiefelwiki]

Nothing

1288 words | Ao3

This follows Moritz from his suicide to the end of the play. His suicide and Martha being abused are both mentioned in this.  It’s late and I’m tired and my usual beta reader is sleeping like a sensible person would be at this hour so I’m not sure how coherent everything is. Please tell me if you find any jumbled nonsense or spelling/grammar errors! Thanks for reading :) 

It didn't happen right away.

After he shot himself he was wrapped in nothing. It wasn't dark or light or hot or cold or wet or dry or anything at all. But it didn't last. He didn't know how long it was before he started to flicker in and out of the world.

At first it just felt like a scratch. Like a lot of scratches. Something clawing at his arms, his legs, his face before disappearing again and leaving little marks behind. It came and went and covered more and more of him, never the same place twice. He wanted the nothing back.

Then it felt like sandpaper. But on the inside. Pain. Fear and anxiety and grief and loathing and hopelessness and shame and more filled him up and weighed him down. Sometimes it was like he could feel the cold. Or his hair tickling the nape of his neck. Or the hard floor of his coffin. But only sometimes. Mostly he just felt sad. He wanted the nothing back.

Then it felt like dehydration. His mouth was dry and sticky and his throat burned and his head hurt. His skin felt too dry, too tight. But he could feel it. He could always feel it now. Sometimes he imagined he could move. Mostly he just thought about what his life had been. He wanted the nothing back.

Then he just felt lonely.

He wanted everything back.

He doesn't know when exactly, but he managed to get up. It took some work. It took some time. His head fell off the first time he sat up. He almost dropped it the first time he climbed out of his grave. It still looked fresh. He wondered how long it had been. He wondered if he was missed. He wondered if anyone noticed his absence. He wondered if they were better off. He wandered around the graveyard.

He was cold. And rotting. And alone.

There was nowhere for him to go. He spent most of his time in his grave. It was warmer there. Somewhat. Less freezing, at the very least.

There was nothing that he could do, either. There were no books to read, no games to play, no work to be done. He was trapped with himself. With his doubts and failures and mistakes. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. Everything hurt. And it kept hurting. And then it hurt some more.

Sometimes he would watch people come and go. The only people that came for him were Ilse and Martha. They planted flowers on his grave and left him wreaths and bouquets.

Martha planted roses. Just for him. The next time he saw her she had a split lip and he could see the bruises poking out from under her sleeves. She talked about it sometimes. Talked to him. He felt himself break a little bit more every time she confided in him. He could not comfort her. He had tried, certainly. But she didn't hear him when he spoke. When he tried to speak.

There was no pattern to Ilse’s visits but she always brought him so many flowers, she told him once that she picked them whenever she saw them and carried them with her until she could give them to him. She always planted some for him. She always watered the ones already growing there. She told him stories too. He wondered how many of them were true.  

He never once saw the person he loved most. Melchi never came to see him. Had his best friend, his oldest friend, his only friend, forgotten him so soon? The thought hollowed him out in a funny way. It ate away at him, chipping more and more of him away with every passing day.

But Melchior did show up. Eventually. He knocked over Moritz's cross and trampled on his flowers. And he kept on walking. Moritz saw him bent in grief over another grave, Wendla's grave. And he couldn't stop himself, couldn't bite back the hurt and the loneliness and the jealousy he felt. He stomped across the graves calling out for his friend, offering his hand. Offering death. You are not Moritz Stiefel! He wasn't, really. Not anymore. But he was so alone and Melchi could see him. He could hear him. If he could get Melchi to take his hand he wouldn't be alone anymore.

He spun a story of the wonders of death. The fun he wishes he could have, the adventures he might wish to go on. The laughter, the laughter, the laughter.  

And it works, almost. A man in a mask intervened at the last possible second to shoo him away. Get out! What are you up to? Why aren't you wearing your head? He could see him. Another person could see him. I shot myself. Please don't send me away. Please. Let me stay with you a little longer. It's terrible under there.

He couldn't go back to the isolation, the emptiness, to his own thoughts. So he sat and listened to them talk. Melchior tried to debate the masked man, to outwit him, to stump him. The humorist can be what he likes! Tell me who you are, or I'll give him my hand. But Melchi couldn't win this argument, he was wrong to want to die. He's right, Melchior. I was trying it on. Take his invitation, and get everything you can out of him. It doesn't matter how well he's masked - at least he's something! Something.

He wanted something. Anything. But it was out of his reach. He would never have anything again. He can't trap Melchi with him, can't doom him to this. He wishes he hadn't killed himself.  

And still, Melchior insists on arguing. If this is to be the last conversation he has with his dearest friend (or anyone, really), it won't be a fight. Don't quarrel. Please don't quarrel. What's the use of that? Why sit here in the churchyard - two living and one dead - at two o’clock in the morning, if all we can do is quarrel like drunks? It will be a pleasure for me to be present at these discussions. If you want to quarrel, I'll take my head and go. He had seen more than enough fighting when he was alive. He didn't need more. And it didn't matter, his final conversation seemed to have run its course. Goodbye, Moritz. I don't know where this man will take me. But he is alive - And it was right to go with him. Don't hold it against me for trying to kill you, Melchior. It was only my old devotion. I'd spend a whole lifetime of tears and misery, if I could walk by your side again. And he meant it. 

Goodbye, Moritz. Thank you for returning once more. The happy, good times we had together in these fourteen years! I promise you whatever happens in the years to come, if I change ten times, if I go up or down, I'll never forget you - And one day if I'm old and my hair's grey perhaps then you'll be closer to me again than all the people who share my life. He wanted to believe him. But he had been forgotten once already.

Thank you. Good luck on the journey, gentlemen. Don't let me keep you any longer. He wasn't worth it. The life that lay ahead of Melchior was far more important than the already-forgotten ghost he was walking away from. He returned to his grave.

Melchior survived.

He straightened his cross.

Melchior will live on.

He climbed back into his body.

Melchior won’t be trapped like this.  

And he smiled.

Melchior said he wouldn’t forget him.

[futureshawolhearts]

Cuddlebug (1/?)

Summary: Minho needs a nap and Jinki obliges.

Pairing: Onho

Rating: G (for gratuitous fluff)

Word count: 1349

Sometimes you just gotta make the Soft ™ Minho content you want to see in the world. Inspired by a conversation with @jinkisbelly

When Jinki thought about it, they had always napped together -- whether as one protected (or pranked in Jonghyun’s case) by the other four, in duos and trios, or all of them piled in the car. Ten years of rushing from schedule to schedule, meeting to meeting, and event to event had made all five members pretty adept at the art of speed napping. He and Minho had always been the most fond of napping (and sleeping in general), so it made sense that after the other members had moved away and schedules became more spread out and individualized that they would continue napping. With Minho’s need for affection and Jinki’s love of downtime, it was the perfect bonding hobby for the two dormmates, second only to eating. Though they’d been napping together for so long, it had taken the two a long time to really find their rhythm. Minho was like a fish when he slept: flipping and flopping all over the place, pulling all the blankets with him. But even though he liked to move around, the primary goal of napping together was affection. Before he fell asleep, it was all soft cuddles and closeness; but as soon as he was asleep, it seemed like he became all elbows, constantly moving around. Jinki on the other hand, was a rock. Once he was asleep, not a force in the universe could move him nor move a blanket off his body. Kibum had described it as watching “an immovable object and an unstoppable force participating in the ultimate blanket battle” and though he’d never seen himself asleep he assumed that was probably a fair assessment. Eventually they realized that using two blankets would eliminate the blanket battles and that letting Minho be the big spoon initially meant that he could flop around the other way after falling asleep. The amount of naps they took always depended on Minho. If he had a break and was in need of affection he’d stop by Jinki’s room, blanket in hand, and proclaim it was naptime. It was amusing to Jinki, who liked the naps more than he would admit. It had started as a convenience, but it had become more of a comfort as time had gone on.

So today the knock on his door is no surprise nor is Minho coming in, yawning with his hair still damp from his shower, nor when he turns off the overhead light and lays down next to where Jinki’s sitting on his computer. Jinki is surprised though, to find he isn’t really tired. He’s had the last week almost completely free from work due to a company mistake. Right now his work is waiting; it’s getting regular sleep and meals, going fishing, visiting his parents. When Minho lays down, he doesn’t follow like normal.

“Hyung, is something wrong?” Minho asks. “I can go to my room if this isn’t ok, I just thought...” he trails off, sitting up to leave.

“You’re fine, Minho. I’ve just been sleeping a lot lately so I’m not as tired as normal. Go ahead, I don’t mind.” Jinki replies, patting Minho’s thigh. Minho pauses, then lays back down. A few minutes pass. Jinki can feel and hear Minho wiggling around. It’s more than evident that he can’t find a comfortable position, that just being in Jinki’s bed isn’t enough. He goes still for a few minutes and then there’s fingers on Jinki’s elbow.

“Hyung, can you lay down with me? I know you don’t really want to nap but please? Just until I fall asleep?” Minho asks, pulling at Jinki’s arm. When Jinki turns to face Minho, he’s the picture of pure exhaustion. Weeks of photoshoot after photoshoot after commercial after event after filming were obviously taking their toll. His sleeping schedule -- or rather lack thereof -- was beginning to resemble that from debut; even Jonghyun seemed to be getting more sleep than Minho. He doesn’t have the heart to say no, so he closes his laptop and puts it out of the way. He grabs the blanket from the end of the bed and pulls it over both of them. He lays down facing Minho, scooting close so Minho can cuddle up like he needs. Once Minho seems comfortable, Jinki hums a half forgotten lullaby and reaches a hand to stroke his hair.

“Thank you, hyung.” Minho whispers, already mostly asleep.

“You’re welcome, cuddlebug.” Jinki whispers back, gently kissing his forehead. When he thinks Minho’s finally really asleep, he tries to slowly untangle himself from Minho’s long limbs. His plan quickly fails and starts humming again as Minho starts to stir. Not wanting to risk ruining what little sleep Minho can get, he stays. It’s quiet for a while, just Jinki’s humming and Minho’s breathing, but eventually noise comes.  

“Hyung.”

Jinki knows it’ll be a few minutes and no less than three tosses and turns before he’ll get an answer, but he answers anyway.

“Yes?”

He’s surprised when there is only stillness preceding the reply.

“Hyung....Airuigrhaejguieagsrw”

Jinki can’t help but laugh at the nonsense. Sometimes he sounds coherent and makes understandable sentences when he sleep talks; other times, like today, it’s just a garbled mess; Jinki’s found that the less understandable the sleep talk, the better the sleep. He smiles and kisses his forehead again before replying.

“Is that so, Minho?”

Minho shifts, then sighs before replying again.

“Agrbiusdofnhgrlauiert yubyvubyinompinomnibuvt.”

“Wow, babe. That’s really interesting. You must be getting some really good sleep there, cuddlebug.”

“Kmjhbgftyui”

Finally Minho goes quiet and starts wiggling around, but it’s still much less than Jinki expected. A while passes before Minho starts talking again, just as undecipherable as before. When he’s done, he continues wiggling, but there’s no tossing and turning and flopping like normal and he never really lets go of Jinki. Though he wasn’t sleepy initially, Jinki starts relaxing and it’s hard to keep his eyes open. A few more “conversations” pass before Minho’s phone alarm goes off. Any thoughts of sleep are immediately erased from Jinki’s mind, though it obviously doesn’t have the same effect on Minho. Jinki turns the alarm off, then shakes Minho til his eyes open.

“Hyung,” comes Minho voice, deep with sleepiness, “I promise I’m awake, hyung.”

Jinki shakes him just a little more, just to be sure.

“You were really chatty today, Minho. Do you remember what you said to me when you were sleeping?” Minho’s eyes open suddenly in mild panic.

“No?? What did I say??”

“Wow, babe. I can’t believe that you already forgot that you said ‘rdyvbinmljkbhutfygiuo’ to me over and over,.” Jinki explains, acting offended. “How are we supposed to cherish this moment for years to come if you can’t remember it??”

Minho pouts, though he’s obviously relieved, and smacks Jinki’s arm.

“You had me worried I had really said something!”

“Are you saying you didn’t mean it? I’m heartbroken.”

Minho sits up as Jinki feigns grief. He laughs and Jinki eventually sits up as well. They sit in relative silence again until another phone alarm goes off.

“Where do you head now?” Jinki asks, pulling the blanket off of himself.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. A meeting I think. Or maybe a rehearsal? I have a schedule somewhere but I don’t want to look at it.”

Minho rubs the sleep out of his eyes, stands, picks up his blanket, pillow and phone.

“Thanks for the nap, hyung. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“I mean I was doing some very important, very time consuming long term waiting, but for cuddlebug I can always make naptime.”

They both laugh as a third alarm goes off.

“I think I’m done around 3 am, so don’t worry about waiting up for me.”

“You can come lay down with me again when you get home if you want.”

“We’ll see how much time I have to sleep.”

Minho bends over and gives Jinki a quick kiss before heading towards the door. As it shuts, Jinki considers dragging Minho’s bed into his room to put the two beds together. They nap together enough anyway.