#this whole month has been a terrible downward spiral and I’m

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

mmmmmMMMMMMM

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summery: You and Tom bet on who will touch the other first after he comes home from filming. Both refusing to give in you resort to some teasing measures to get the other one to break.

Pairing; Tom + female reader.

Themes: Light-hearted, lots of teasing. Established relationship. Fluff. Cocky Tom. Cocky reader too, let’s face it. They are both stubborn idiots. Lots of horniness all around. To be honest, very little plot and mostly smut. Bit of fluff as well though. 

Warnings: Unprotected sex in established relationship. Masturbation. This work is strictly +18.

A/N: Not beta-read, I’m wine drunk and wrote this in like 2,5 hours so it is what it is. 

It was such a stupid fucking bet and he wish he never agreed to it. It is all your fault, he decides, as he watches you bend over into downward dog, your breathing rhythmic and even as you stretch your beautiful body. He tries to look away from your ass, honestly he does, but you’re wearing those light grey yoga pants that practically has him drooling and the fabric is hugging your body so perfectly it would be a crime to look away. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure that’s the whole point of you doing this, practicing yoga in the living room right in front of him as he’s supposed to be working. The whole point is to have him staring, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. 

It had all started the week before he was set to return from filming. He had teased you (and sure, in retrospect that was a terrible idea and he should have known better) had said that you would jump him the first chance you got, that he probably wouldn’t even get through the door before you had him out of his jeans. You had retaliated with an accusation that he would be the one all over you and obviously he had to deny that.

It had spiraled, neither one of you willing to give in and admit defeat and now here you are; a full day after his return and he hasn’t as much as hugged you. 

Because whoever touches the other first loses the bet. 

And now here you are, in front of him; wearing skin tight yoga pants and bending over. 

A part of him, the midsection of his body to be precise, wants to just give in; to hand you the victory - fuck his pride. But the part of him, the rational part he likes to think, that has him bashing up golf clubs every time his dad beats him in a golf round; refuses to give in.

So what if he hasn’t seen you, hasn’t felt your body in over three months? Or that he now has your magnificent ass right in his face as he’s trying to concentrate on his dull emails. So what? He’s not faced by that, he’s a man of the world after all. 

You lean forwards again until you’re on the ground, turn to your back and start to slowly but steadily push your hips up and down, in what Tom can only assume, is referred to as the ghost fucking position. 

“Aren’t you supposed to answer emails?” You ask and he doesn’t even need to look at your face to know that you have a smug smile on your face.

“I am” he mutters, looking away from your body on the floor and back to his phone screen. 

You laugh, and he pretends not to hear it, while you pretend that the visible hard-on he’s sporting doesn't make you want to climb into his lap and give in to both of your temptations. 

The bet was stupid and totally his idea.

Tom comes out of the shower, drops of water still pouring from his wet hair onto his sculpted chest. The only thing he’s wearing is the white towel wrapped around his waist and the silver Rolex on his wrist. Seeing you standing in the kitchen and slicing tomatoes he sends you his widest smile. 

And you thought you were playing unfair with the yoga. 

He sits down by the bartop, all bare chested and golden. “Anything I can help with?” he asks as you place the tomatoes in the salad bowl. “A change of music perhaps?”

You throw a left over piece of tomato at him and it hits him square in the chest. He just smiles wider, completely unfaced. “Leave my dinner playlist alone, yeah?” You tell him, resisting the urge to give him the finger. 

“So tense” he snickers and leans his head to the side, “I know what could help you relax.”

“Throwing more tomatoes at you? Because we need them in the salad, Thomas.”

He stands up and moves around the kitchen island until he’s behind you, careful as not to touch, framing you against the bench with his strong arms on either side of your body. You can smell him, fresh out of the shower, feel the warm radiate from his body; it is as he’s already holding you. He’s so close, it’s like every cell in your body is reaching out for him. 

And it’s been so long. 

Three months of twisting and turning alone in bed, of only your own hands as company and him on the phone screen as he encourages you; tells you how goddamn gorgeous you look fucking yourself for him. Three months of only seeing him on the phone; not being able to touch him and feel him for yourself, to taste his skin. To just see him spill all over his own hand instead of being there, catching it all with your tongue. 

But it will have to wait a little while longer, because although you might love him, and the way he makes you feel, there’s no way you’re giving in just yet. 

Slowly turning around, carefully as not to touch him, you reach for the bottle. “You can open this, since you wanted to help” you say and hand him the wine, “that would help me relax.”

He smiles, unbothered by his failed attempt at luring you to defeat, and steps back. You stir the pasta sauce, trying not to look at his bare chest as he’s leaning over the kitchen counter, looking for something. Finally he finds the corkscrew and sits back again at the bar table. He gets to work with opening the bottle, his strong veined hand wrapped around the throat of the bottle, as the other inserts the screw. His brow is furrowed in concentration and he’s biting his lip. Around his wrist the Rolex watch reflects in the light. Uncorking the bottle he pours blood red liquid into two wine glasses and hands you one before taking a sip from his own, brown eyes looking at you from over the rim of his glass. 

“Put a fucking shirt on, Thomas” you mutter, going back to chopping vegetables.

The song and dance of torturing each other continues for the following two days. What goes on between you can only be described as a red-hot war. 

“Oh for fuck sake!” Tom’s voice booms over the living room. 

“Too direct?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“No, no not at all” he answers, voice dripping with sarcasm, “no please, keep deep-throating the banana, it’s incredibly subtle.”

Slowly he wakes, blinking into the dark night. The alarm clock on his bedside table tells him that it’s just after 2 am and for a few long seconds he stares at it.

A rustling of sheets beside him in bed and it hits him. He’s home, home in his own bed with you laying next to him, as it should always be. Except that things aren’t the way it should be. 

Because of that stupid goddamn bet. 

The sheets rustle again and he wonders if you are awake as well. But then he hears it; a soft moan. 

Turning over in bed at lighting speed he stares down at you. “Are you fucking touching yourself?” He asks, heatedly. 

Your answer is another soft moan as you look up at him, pupils blown wide and lips parted. Tearing of the duvet he looks down at your naked body, at you hand, covered in slick, moving over your clit.

Fuck. 

He moves over, leans over you; his legs on either side of yours and his arm on each side of your face, carefully making sure that he isn’t touching you. A slight catch of breath is all the sign you give of having been surprised, your hand keeping it’s gentle pace. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, voice low in the quiet room. 

“You” is your breathless reply, “you touching me.”

“Think this is how I would touch you?” He asks, snickering. He’s holding his body over you, looking into your lust-filled eyes. “I’d go much slower at first, tease you. Slowly move around your clit until your hips are bucking up and you're begging me for more”.

He moves his head, so that his lips are almost touching yours. Almost. 

“You’re so good at begging after all” he murmurs against your lips, moving his boxer clad hips so that they almost touch you and you groan, your face telling of vexation and volatile bliss. But you do as he says, follow his instruction with the movement of your hand. 

“Good girl” he whispers softly against your lips. 

“Then I’d slide one fingers inside that wet cunt, still slow; still teasing.” 

You whine, but you do as he says. Slowly you move one finger in and out of yourself, as the other hand is still circling your clit. “Need more” you moan but he just smiles.

“Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He teases with a devilish grin, tilting his head to the side, looking down at you with sparkling eyes. “But your hands are smaller than mine, so maybe you should add another finger.” 

You insert your middle finger as well; and moan. “Faster” you beg, but he shakes his head and so a string of curses fall out your mouth and all he can do is smile at it. 

“That filthy fucking mouth of yours” me mutters. 

“Well if you shove your dick into it instead then this stupid fucking bet will be over and we’ll both get off.”

“You know, I’ve really missed your fantastic sense of humor while I’ve been away” he answers dryly, but with a smile. 

“Tom” you whine. “I need more.”

He wants to kiss you so badly, to press his lips against yours and taste you; to remove his boxers and sink into you in one swift movement until your hoarse and wanton whines turn into satisfied moans, soft and sweet like honey. 

“Go on then, darling” he says, voice huskier than usual in the dark night. “Speed up for me.”

You do, your body hungry for satisfaction, hunting your orgasm with determent, sharp movements. 

“Fuck,” he swears, “fuck you’re soaked.” He looks down at your wet slit, your rapidly moving fingers, your hips bucking up to meet your hand. Looking back into your wild eyes he groans, his mouth still dangerously close to yours.

“The whole room smells of you” he moans, and it’s true. The scent of your arousal mixes with the scent of your perfumed skin and this is the closest he’s been so far to falter; to give in to temptation.

Your head is thrown back against the pillows, throat exposed, soft moans escaping freely. He wants to touch you everywhere, feel the softness of your skin with his rough hands, his wet mouth, his teeth. He’s breathing hard and he hasn’t even been touched, but he feels the want of touching you in his bones.

He wants to wrap his lips around your hardened nipples. To suck, bite, lick and kiss them until you fall over the edge. 

“So fucking beautiful” he breathes out. Even if he had wanted to he wouldn't have been able to look away from you. “But it’s my hand your fucking, remember? Think I’d wouldn’t fuck you harder than that?”

And god, he wish it was his hand you were fucking, wish he could feel you come; hot and wet and pulsing around his fingers. Instead he is left to watch. Watch as the movements of your hand speeds up until fucking yourself with a carnal kind of need, until you fall apart at the seams; luscious bliss spreading over your features, and your tense body relaxes until you soften against the mattress;  loose limbed and starry eyed. 

And he is left to take care of the his erection all on his own.

A thin layer of sweat is covering his chest and his muscles are taut as he forces his arms to carry his weight into another push-up. 

“Thirty-six” he groans out, his voice strained and deep from the physical effort, curls of brown hair falling over his face as he lowers himself to the ground again. “Thirty-seven.”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, your eyes fixed on the muscles of his back, and the way they move as he moves. 

You feel agitated and frantic and in that moment you want nothing more than to lay down beneath him; look up at him as move above you with swift, powerful moments. It’s beyond reason, the carnal tug inside you as you watch him and it is absolutely maddening that he hasn’t given in yet to his desire; because you know he desires you, have seen it in his dark eyes, always following you around the room, over the last few days. 

But you are not going to be the first one to give in. 

“Forty-two” he moans out, and the sound of his heavy breathing and deep groans vibrate somewhere far inside you.

You’re not. 

You just need a change of tactic, that’s all.

The pub is packed tonight, but the more secluded pool area section is scarce of people. Tom sips on his beer, scrolling through instagram; waiting for you, as the speakers blast out ‘Galway Girl’ for what feels like the hundredth time since he came in. He’s been visiting a friend while you’ve been at work, having decided this morning to meet up at the pub after for a meal and a game of pool. 

A text pops up on the screen, beside your picture. It simply says ‘Look up’. 

He does. And fuck. 

Oh, fuck no. 

Oh, for all that is holy, surely you wouldn’t be that cruel to him.

Not the white shorts.

Not the white shorts you had worn last summer, the ones you know very well turns him on like nothing else. The ones you had worn that time when you had driven down to the beach on bonfire night; the time when you pulled him aside from the rest of the company and he had ended up fucking you against the birch wood tree just some meters away from all your friends, your shorts around your ankles and your nails digging into his back as you tried to bite back you moans.

Surely you wouldn’t be this cruel to him, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. He hasn’t had sex in over three months and you show up looking like this  and he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. 

He’s just not sure about whether this is going to be heaven

or hell. 

He watches you as you walk through the pub with long confident strides, the goddamn heels you're wearing extending your legs, and the fabric of the white tank top stretching over your chest. Your lips are painted blood red, as if you are ready for battle.

He’s not the only one in the pub staring at you but you keep your eyes fixed on him, burning into his eyes, as you move across the floor. 

“Honey” you greet him. “Got one of those for me as well?” You nod to the beer in his hand, frozen mid movement to his mouth. 

“Why?” He asks, trying to regain the upper hand. “Feeling thirsty?”

You laugh dryly, looking down at his crotch, where he’s painfully aware a bulge is showing. Instead of commenting on it he hands you the other beer bottle he ordered and watches as you wrap your red lips around the opening, swallowing down. He feels warm all over in the stuffy pub and he pulls at the collar of his t-shirt. 

He reaches for the cue sticks and hands you one. “Alright, darling” he sighs, knowing very well what kind of teasing hell you are about to put him through tonight, “let’s play.”

The playlist has gone from Ed Sheeran songs to Mumford & Sons and the pub is still packed with people, though the pool area remains empty apart from you and Tom. It's warm in there and Tom takes big gulps from his third beer of the night. He can feel sweat forming on his back, his brow, his chest. 

You’re not helping the situation. Although he’s pretty certain that helping is opposite of what you’re trying to do. 

“You’re so fucking annoying” he whines, as he watches you hit the white ball perfectly, resulting in two of your striped balls ending up in the pockets. He’s leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and mouth in a thin line.

He fucking hates losing. 

“You know what you should do?” You ask, lining up against the table, arched back as you bend over with your cue stick; giving him a full view of your fucking fantastic thighs, “try to fuck it out of me.” You hit another perfect shot and a third ball goes in. You look over your shoulder at him, still bent over the table, and wink.

Standing up straight you turn to him. Swaying your hips to the music you lift the beer bottle to your red lips and you swallow a mouthful. Placing the bottle next to you on the side of the pool table you walk over to him, standing so close you’re almost touching. 

Almost

In fact, you might as well be, for he can smell your perfume, mixing with the scent of your shampoo. Can feel the heat radiate of your warm body. It’s been so long since he’s held you and his entire body is painfully aware of it. 

With your lips just centimeters from his you whisper; voice husky and low, “I know how bad you want me, honey.” You move your face so that you’re almost kissing the stubble on his cheek, mouth nearly pressed against it. 

“You want my hands” you whisper again, looking up at him, your hand hovering right over his erection, carefully as not to touch it, and he nearly bucks out to meet your hand. He’s glad that the area is more secluded, part of the wall hiding the pair of you from view. It feels like there’s just the two of you in the entire world; might as well be for all he cares right now. A blush colours his cheeks as he stares back at you.

 “You want my mouth” you breathe against him, your lips curled into an evil smile. “You want my tongue” and you lick your lips before biting it, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“You wish I was on my hands and knees right now, so you could fuck my mouth.” you finish. 

His skin feels tight and overheated, but he keeps his tone casual as he replies, “actually I wish you were bent over the table so spank that arse of yours, but sure, I wouldn’t say no to a blowie.”

“What’s stopping you? You think you can hold on forever? You know I’m not going to give in, Tom. You know me. Can you imagine going to sleep tonight? Untouched? Again?” 

There’s no use he thinks as he plunges in for a kiss, pulling you tight against him; eager to touch as much as you as possible with impatient hands. 

He tried to beat the devil at her own game and he lost.

“Think you lost, honey” you say between kisses as he’s pressing you up against the front door. 

“Don’t give a flying fuck love, just keep touching me and I’ll die a happy man.” His voice is breathless and hoarse and his hands are all over you; as if he can’t get enough. Your hand is in his soft hair, holding on, as the other is cupping the bulge in his trousers, stroking him through the fabric as he whimpers in your ear. 

“We should probably get inside,” you whisper. “Unless you want your neighbors to witness me give you a hand job on the front steps.” 

He groans, but steps away from you. His hair is ruffled and his pupils are blown wide, spit from your previous kissing covering his lower lip. You imagine you look just as disheveled. 

“Think you need to learn a lesson in delayed gratification” you tease, not being able to stop yourself. 

His eyes go even darker and he takes a step forward again, cups your chin and looks you straight in the eye in a way that has bolts of excitement shoot up your spine. “Before the night is over” he says in a slow, gruff voice, “I will teach you all there is to know about delayed gratification.”

He digs in his pockets, pulls out his keys and unlocks the front door, guiding you in with a hand on your lower back. 

He feels as if someone has lit a match under his skin. His whole body is screaming with vehement urgency for yours. His hands can’t get enough of you; his lips never want to leave your soft lips again. Your soft little noises are filling his head and he hardly even registers your hands unzipping his jeans; until you’re pulling them, alongside his boxers, off of him in a sharp tugging notion. 

“Filthy girl, I fucking love you” he moans out between kisses as you wrap your soft hand around his hard cock. 

He pulls at your tank top and for a moment your skin separates entirely from his as you step away, so that he can remove the fabric from you. Yanking at the goddamn jeans shorts he pulls them down around your ankles and you step out of them.  Your underwear soon follows suit along with his t-shirt until you both are free of any inconvenient clothing. 

He needs your warm and soft skin pressed against his, needs your soft little moans in his ear as he fucks into you, needs the taste of your sweet skin on his tongue. 

He lifts you up on the bed and soon follows suit. Reaching down he slips a finger between your legs, feels how wet and warm and slick you are and groans loudly against your shoulder. 

Lining up against you, cock in hand he looks at your lust filled eyes. “Next time I’ll go slow, yeah? I’ll take my time.”

Your answer is your hands on his shoulder, pulling him against you and he slips inside you with an ecstatic moan. You moan as well, wrap your legs around his hips. He starts moving, thrusting in and out of you with greedy dragged out jabs. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and mixes with your whimpering mewls. 

You are so hot and tight and wet around him and the pleasure is so intense it’s bordering on painful. His face is so close to yours, it is as if you are sharing breaths. 

He wants to punch himself from denying himself this for several days when he already had to go without for months.

“Did you think your hands could stand in for mine while I was away? That it could measure up at all?” He asks you, voice thick with lust. He’s so full of want for you and you’re all soft noise and wandering hands. Your warm breath on his even warmer skin. His lips on your nipples; kissing, sucking, biting. 

You writhe beneath him, unable to lay still as you buck your hips up to meet his; fucking into him. He’s not going to last long but neither is you and holding on is a losing battle. Like he said, next time he will go slower, gentler, softer. Drag it out for an entire night. But you both have too much built up pressure inside you to last now. He feels like a bomb about to go off, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine, as he fucks into you with even greater force. You’re hot and swollen and hugging onto him so perfectly he feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to come soon. 

But he knows that you are close. Feels it in your nails, dragging along his back, in the sharp movements of your thrusts, in your laboured breathing against his shoulder. He feels it in the way your cunt squeezes around him.

“I’m coming” you whimper and he wants to cry from the relief as he feels you spasm around him.

“Fuck” you moan out as your breathing calms down, and he’s holding you pressed against his chest. “Haven’t had a decent orgasm in months, I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“You really can’t function without me, can you?” he says with a smug smile and honestly, hadn’t you’ve been so blissed out you probably would have bitten him. 

A/N: I honestly don’t know if any of this made sense. I’m drunk and tired and I’m going to bed. If you read it, please leave your thoughts. 

[herofics]

hey !! i’ve been feeling like absolute shit again, and was hoping for some sort of comfort, haha. i was wondering if i could request a class 1a/deku x reader, in where the reader is visibly declining, despite her best efforts to not let it show. she attempts to maintain a positive façade, but aizawa and her classmates take notice to her failing grades, lack of socialization, self harm (cutting/burning, thighs/stomach/arms, starvation), and overall smile-ridden depression. all until it accumulates into major recklessness in battle, taking blows for others when unnecessary and being terribly self-sacrificial; her doing so as a result of active suicidal ideation. (also sorry, this is a nitpicky thing ik, and i’m trying rlly hard to word it in a way that doesn’t sound brash or pretentious !! but i’ve never once cried during sh or when speaking about it, and a lot of fanfics portray only sobbing and regret and it’s sort of uncomfortable ,? if at all possible, and if ur totally comfy with it, could y/n not cry too much in front of others?) if this is too triggering or upsetting, or simply too much lol, i completely understand !!! feel free to turn it down, okay ? absolutely no pressure :) thank u !

Sorry this took forever, since this would have ended up as a really long scenario so I made long HCs instead, since this is a lot of stuff. Also I wrote it pretty much only with Deku

•You weren’t doing well to begin with and the school stress, USJ incident, the attack at the training camp and the move to the dorms didn’t really help with the stress 

•Deku being an active component in all of it of course made you worry like crazy

•The trauma just kept piling up and so did the stress and you just couldn’t take it anymore

•You started falling deeper and deeper into depression, you hardly talked to anyone and after every school day you just shut yourself in your dorm room

•Deku tries to be there for you, but obviously he has his own life too and even though you’re a big part of that he can’t help you if you don’t let him

•Even Aizawa suggests to you that maybe you should talk to someone, or go see Recovery girl or a psychiatrist, he offers to talk with you as well, but you just smile at him and tell him you’re okay

•You’re hurting yourself constantly, barely eating, skipping school to sleep all day and anyone barely sees you outside of school hours

•Deku starts noticing your arms covered in bandages and long sleeves all the time, and even when he confronts you about it, you just tell him it’s none of his business and to buzz off

•Your relationship is deteriorating and you feel like it’s better that way, at least it won’t hurt him when you’re gone

•You start doing some really stupid stuff, taking hits on purpose like you want to get hurt

•During this whole time you’ve barely ever cried, you just feel numb and like nothing matters anymore

•The final nail in the coffin comes when you take a bit too big of a hit during a confrontation with a villain and end up half dead in a hospital

•Deku finally decides he needs to make you stop this and even though you had been drifting apart and barely spoke before that, he wants to make sure you’re okay and that you get help

•Deku spends the next day sitting beside your hospital bed, holding your hand and waiting for you to wake up

•When you do he has this serious look on his face, but at the same time he is crying and telling you he’s so glad you’re awake and alive

•Somehow that’s a bit of a wake up call for you, to see someone so worried and and relieved that you’re okay, that you weren’t dead

•Deku talks to you for a long time and even though it’s not his fault, he profusely apologizes for not interfering with your downwards spiral sooner

•He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole time he is there with you, Deku just feels like he’s gonna lose you if he lets go now

•You don’t really talk much, and you don’t tell him what you’ve been going through for the last couple of months especially

•But he talks, he talks and he cries and eventually he manages to make you cry a bit too, because he just wants you to know you’re not alone and that he wants to be there for you every step of the way from now on

•He tells you he loves you and that he will be there for you in anyway he can

•You two hug and he embraces you so hard it hurts a bit, but in that moment, you don’t care

•Maybe there really is a light at the end of the tunnel and maybe he was yours

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[quirkwizard]

So a lot of people have had a lot to say about Stars and Stripes. I too have a lot to say, but there is one topic I want to discuss in particular. One of the more controversial parts of Stars and Stripes since her introduction.

A lot of people have been dragging Stars and Stripes through the mud for her word choice here. That, as a hero, she is a terrible, awful person who should have not attempted to kill Tomura and that there were far better options for her given her power. Do I think she is in the wrong? From a story perspective, yes. One of the ideas the story is pushing is the importance of understanding and perspective. Izuku, through his journey, would gain a more nuanced and empathic understanding of the world and the people in it on both sides of the conflict. And with that change, he will be a better hero who can better handle the situations he faces. Namely, he will become a hero greater than All Might by stopping Tomura, something Stars and Stripes couldn't do.

It's presented pretty clearly in how her command wasn't able to work on Tomura because of his identity. The thing that kept that command from going through was that Stars and Stripes didn't have Tomura's true name for the order she gave. In a sense, she failed to stop Tomura because she failed to understand Tomura and who he was, unlike Izuku. This is reinforced later when she is told she will surpass All Might by beating Tomura, but that is clearly wrong. Because while she could beat him, she couldn't stop him. All she really did was try to hit him harder and harder over and over, but it didn't work. As he is right now, Tomura can't be beaten like any other villain. We all know that there is a lot more that goes into surpassing All Might outside of just hitting people harder, as seen with Izuku. So she is in the wrong given the general moral the story is trying to tell.

However, from an in world perspective, I don't really blame her for wanting to kill Tomura, hero or not. Yes, Tomura is a victim of All For One and his parasitic hold. But she doesn't know that. All she knows is that Tomura is a massive threat to the whole world that sent an entire country into a downward spiral in a couple of months. He's the guy responsible for all the collateral damage, injured civilians, and countless dead heroes. To her, she was trying to end this threat as soon as possible and keep him from hurting anyone else. While you could argue that she could have paralyzed Tomura instead of stopping his heart to capture him, even though the heart stopping threat could have been more of an ultimatum than a killing intent, I disagree. Again, Tomura is shown to be a major threat with the amount of power he holds. Even if she could capture him, where exactly could they put him? He's basically too powerful to be confined anywhere. So her going in for the kill isn't that crazy given the circumstances.

And this isn't like other hero/villain interactions. In most cases, the villain is clearly weaker and it would be wrong for a hero to use excessive force to stop or kill them. The villain has a major advantage here, is very hard to stop, and he has no intention of stopping. At this point, any chance to stop him, even if it means killing him, seems like a good option when compared to the alternative. Then there comes the matter of Tomura not trying to kill her, making it seem as though she was overreacting to him. Besides the fact that she doesn't know that he's not trying to kill her, the only reason why he isn't trying to kill her is because he wants to take her Quirk. He's not doing it to prove a point or because it's wrong. It's because he needs something out of her and she needs to be alive for it to happen. And I'm not saying this as me that she’s right to do this, me wanting her to kill Tomura, or that I want heroes in stories to kill in general. What I am saying is that, from her perspective in this moment, it makes sense for her to try and kill Tomura. 

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request. 

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE* 

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.”  Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, ��...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?��, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.”  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.”   Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘dul’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 3.7k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

> next

It doesn't take Mr Kim too long to find a way to meet you.

A week or so later, Adrianne is handing you a little post-it where her curvy cursive spells his name, with his phone number and a time. He says he'll bring Jimmy early to school in two days, to contact him if it doesn't work for you and that he cannot wait to talk to you again. This last part you wouldn't bet on the accuracy. Adrianne says he stuttered his way through a mumbo jumbo of English and another language she didn't recognize, apologizing because he didn't know how to express what he meant but from what she could gather, he was excited to have this meeting about Jimmy.

He arrives two days later, right on time. Not a minute early nor late, perfectly on time and if you don't point it out loud, you still notice it with a discreet smile.

They both look perfectly relaxed, smiling for the man and rather calm for the boy. It's funny to see him now. Mr Kim looks pretty much nothing like the first time you saw him, with the worry, the low-key panicked, agitated state he came bursting in your classroom. He looks a few years younger, with an easy grin stretching full rosy lips, dimples digging deep in his roundish honey cheeks -almost the same as his son's, you notice with delight- wearing a straight maroon coat, this time well adjusted, that's making him even taller and more elongated if possible and of which the shade compliments his complexion endearingly so.

"Hi. It's really nice to see you." You end up greeting him first, as warmly as you can.

You've been pondering over this meeting for so long, time feeling like it never ceased to stretch out and felt dreading, dreading, dreading. It was never coming soon enough and you were terrified, even if you had no reason to doubt Mr Kim's honesty, that he'd bail on you for whatever reason.

But here he is, seemingly so open to discuss and after installing Jimmy at his desk with the same tools as last time (a pile of white sheets waiting to be filled and your set of crayons) you join him a few tables away (far enough for Jimmy not to be exposed to the conversation but close enough to keep an eye on him, or more accurately, for him to keep an eye on his guardian), pressing your hands together and against your bosom to try to contain my excitement.

"As I told you last time, Jimmy is a very sweet boy. He's not doing bad with the exercises and activities, it's quite surprising -in a great way!- since from my understanding English is not his first language, right?"

"Yeah, no, it's uh- it's Korean. We just moved from Korea a few months ago, well, right before he started school. But we- my- her mother and I would try to talk to him a bit of English at home to have him pick up on the basis..."

"Oh, that's nice! Children that young do learn languages particularly easily, it's definitely beneficial for him. I can already tell."

Namjoon sends a glance his way, a fond, dad's proud one lingering on his tiny figure hunched over the desk. You can't quite tell from where you sit but it does look like he's started drawing.

"Had you planned moving here for a long time? I mean, was it the plan from the start, that's why you wanted to teach him English?"

"No, not really." The mood feels different. It switches from rather tranquil and cheerful into a very heavy, uneasy silence his deep voice hardly disturbs. There's a glint in his eyes. It's not an easy one to look at and your heart stings as the glint takes over his whole gaze hovering over his son. You understand it's something sad. Probably painful and hard to carry even for such a strong-looking, shoulder-broad grown man.

You don't want to push it. You're curious, as one gets, but too decent and you know yourself to be too soft-hearted and sensitive, for you to be snooping through sad people's luggage. But you think back about Jimmy, whose curious eyes, beautiful but wide with something reflecting like a perfect mirror what you can now find in his dad's, and you're certain that his odd behaviour must come from that.

"Mr Kim, the reason I wanted to see you," You start, voice quieter. He's startled for a second, redirecting his attention back on you, and he looks a bit guilty. As if he highly suspects, if not already know full well, where this is going. "I do meet all the parents of my students, as I told you. But in the case of Jimmy, if I was so insistent, it's that I'm really concerned about him."

His eyes draw downwards, staring at his hands. Long slender fingers fidgeting with one another, pinching and twisting a bit. I wonder if like his son, he might start crying.

"He's lovely but he cannot- he has had a really hard time uh- how could I put it?" You don't want to sound too alarmist. You know parents have the tendency to freak the fuck out for the misinterpretation of one single word. Sometimes an onomatopoeia, misplaced, send them into a raging spiral of anxiety over what terrible condition their kid might be dealing with. Not all parents are insane or simply too quick to jump to conclusions -or plain stupid. Some understand, whatever words you use. The father sitting in front of you seems worried and pained enough you wish you could protect him but you need him to understand that his situation is serious, and how important it is for Jimmy to have the tools to change now, while he still can, before he gets too old and start to take all those unfortunate coping mechanisms as lifelong terrible habits. "He's had a hard time simply being a kid." Namjoon sighs deeply. "He doesn't speak to anyone, not even me. Hardly looks at his classmates, never approaches them. I've noticed also that talking is not the only issue, any form of expression, if not made to do because it's in the course and all the other children are doing it too, he simply won't do." Mr Kim has raised his head enough for you to see him. He's troubled, upset, worried. But he seems to want to show himself more involved and you can tell he is, you can tell he cares as he listens so carefully as you explain in great details the odd incident with the papers and the crayons he refused to play with, even without a soul to watch over his shoulder.

"I feel it's a bit more than simple timidity. Or that at least, there's something significant behind this timidity. I can understand that it might be sensitive to you," You do, his eyes are screaming at you and you can't ignore them. Sort of begging for something, you're not quite sure what, you're not quite sure they, themselves, know either. It's a terrible case of a grown adult, an apparent composed grown man with a mighty balanced life, not a child anymore, actually, a dad, appearing so vulnerable and broken. It's a horrid vision. You've never been able to handle those.

"But it's in Jimmy's interest that I know a bit more. It's quite concerning. He's at an age where he's supposed to develop those skills. If we just let him be, leave him in this... unease, whatever it is, he might adopt it for a very long time until the time comes when it's become an exhausting challenge, almost impossible, to overcome.”

"I understand what you're saying." Mr Kim starts, voice low and tiny I can hardly pick up on the words. "I noticed- I mean, he's not changed that much with me. He's never been a very loud, boisterous boy, you know? But lately, he's been a bit quieter. I can see it at home, he's a bit stoic, less... expressive." You lose the man for a second. He's staring at his son longly and you don't want to abruptly bring him back to the conversation. Eventually, he does come back on his own, clearing his throat and scratching his neck. "That's- ridiculous but I even told myself the other day that I miss his tantrums. He didn't use to throw a lot of fits but sometimes he would, for more candies or something stupid like that. But he hasn't in a while."

You can't count how many times you heard overwhelmed parents jokingly wish that their kid would just turn off, stop causing scenes, stop demanding, screaming and crying out ridiculous tantrums. You remember Adrienne, saying more than once, to chastise the behaviour of one too agitated child to take a look at Jimmy, learn to be more like him, and why can't they be like him.

The thing is, a child is not supposed to be quiet.

A child should be problematic, testing, challenging. Loud and cheerful and agitated because children are like that. They are little humans just starting this whole insane experience that is Life, trying to figure themselves out, trying to figure out the people around them and the whole world along with it. They're meant to be a mess.

They're not meant to be quiet and tranquil, and bathing in a sort of slow, stoic haze. They're certainly not meant to have this expression on their face. The one Jimmy is wearing. Of deep, deep sadness. Like he's been somewhere, he's felt something, he's lost something that has left him misplaced forever. As if he's not really part of this world, this Life, or doesn't care or know why he's in it. Just letting himself float about. Embarrassed and denying all impulse that could potentially shape him and his existence.

He's only five.

"Do you have any inclination as to why his behaviour has turned into this?"

You see the gears going into labour in his head. He looks pensive, lost in a pit of thoughts he doesn't know if he can nor should share. There's a tremble to his lips, to his fingers, a telling frown to his eyebrows as his eyes very obviously decide to avoid you. The question seems to seize him like an earthquake but somehow, it's a good one. A disturbing but potentially lucky one. One that would invite him to experience something hard but liberating, something that he really needs.

Not long after you've asked the question to which you already know half of the answer, he pauses to think it over and then decides to talk. You notice the way his body slump over himself instantly, along with an abyssal years-old sigh and he starts to talk.

"5 months ago, my- his mom passed away." You hate yourself for the way you gasp, eyes wide and already blurry as if it's appropriate, as if you're allowed when you can't even imagine the beginning of their pain. It all starts making sense and you're heartbroken. You wish you didn't show yourself so reckless, sensitive but somehow naive and unhelpful.

You mouth a silent apology and condolence you notice he accepts from the way he nods, not wanting to cut him off. He's already breathless and you wonder how many more words he has in stock before the resources shut down, right before he loses it and breaks the strong persona he has to keep straight and steady for his son. How exhausting it must be. "It was hard already in Korea but I thought -naively- that if we moved here, close to her family, maybe, being around them would ease- everything out a bit. I don't know. It was stupid." He shakes his head from left to right, scoffing to himself, a hand raised to his forehead, hiding his eyes.

"It wasn't, Mr Kim. It's very honorable of you to quit everything for your son." Your words have no effect whatsoever. Unfortunately, it's blatantly obvious, he's made up his mind already. He's guilty, he messed up, and he holds a grudge against himself for this decision and nothing a dumb teacher, sensitive and half-weeping, would say could change that opinion, as destructive and inaccurate as it may be.

"It really was. It's so different here, I thought after some time it would be worth it but I think he hates it. I think he's very confused and I don't know if he's too young to feel like that, I'm not sure, but he looks like he's embarrassed about being a foreigner. Like not speaking properly. I can't even tell if he understands well or if he doesn't get it at all when people speak to him in English since he just- he can't really communicate. Even with his cousins, it's-"

Oh.

"Oh." Now that you hear him say that, it lights a small bulb hidden at the back of your head. It shines upon a whole roof-tall shelf holding all of those awkward, disagreeable memories you tend to forget actively because even reflecting on them decades later still sends a thrill of disgust the length of your spin.

It's those moments of pure embarrassment, of horrid dreading feelings that you used to be overwhelmed with as a child and this until you were not much more of a child anymore, and those memories paired with their emotions simply faded into shadows of scenes that you can only wonder if they ever were real.

You used to be filled with stupid insecurities based on very confused, distant, impossible to decipher pretend truths, sometimes, you would just feel stupid. Completely idiotic, ignorant, and unlovable. In those moments, you just couldn't dare open your mouth to pronounce a word that would give you away. Because if you did, somehow, you would end up messing up and people would laugh and make fun of you and hate you because there are so many reasons to and of course you deserved it.

Images of the little boy, hiding obviously in a corner but longingly observing his peers. Obviously terrified but curious, and most definitely desiring.

Because of course, he'd want to. Talk to them, be with them but how could he when he's not even sure he could speak the way they do.

"Mr Kim, I can tell he wants to. Even if he can't let anyone approach him, I can tell he'd like to be part of the group. That being said his fears or as you said, maybe his insecurities, don't allow him to."

"Should I- Should I seek for a therapist? He had one in Korea but I don't think he was ready for it. He just reacts very badly to strangers, especially when they try to, you know, sink into your brain and- now that we're here, I can hardly picture how that would go."

"Well, therapy is never a bad idea. It can only be beneficial for him... for anyone." You're not sure how appropriate it is for you to add this but you owe to say it. Sometimes, parents don't realize, but a child's deepest wounds are born from seeing and feeling their guardians'.

"I'd seen someone already." He explains without needing you to insist further. Seems like you're not as subtle as you thought yourself to be. "I did because- I had to. His mom and I had been separated for a while before her passing, it'd always been complicated between us and I can't lie, I did feel terribly guilty... I thought it might hurt him somehow. Maybe he could feel it and experience it too. I had to for the both of us. It fixed me but not him, so I suppose, it didn't come from that."

"Grief is... It's very complex. It comes along with a plethora of confusing, untamed emotions as an adult but for a child... It must manifest in a way we can't even imagine. I'm sorry, you don't need me to tell you that." You're a mess of stutters. Words are running away from you, the smart ones are even flying, making sure there's no way you'd catch them by the tip of the tail. You just want to ease this father's struggles, somehow. You don't know him much but you know his son, a little, and you, for reasons you don't care much to look into, deeper than simply you having a saviour complex, need to help it all resolve. They don't deserve any of it all. No one does.

It might be silly. But the thought of Jimmy, that sweet, lovely child, sensitive and precious as he is, must have a father quite special himself to have been brought up this way.

"No, it's fine. You're right." A heavy silence settles in between you. In the background, faintly, you can hear the soft rustling of the tip of a crayon against paper. You open your mouth, the fantastic memory of the other day, when he arrived late to pick Jimmy up and something you still, a week later, recalling itself back to you. He opens his at the exact same time and before you're able to utter any word, he's the one starting, "Actually, I really appreciate it. Being able to talk about it like that with someone. Since my therapist, I don't think I was able to. People only have enough tolerance for other's pain. Which I understand, it's just- hard and well, I'm thankful for you."

He stammers saying that, seemingly scrambling with his own words. The compliment is so heartfelt, like a shot from his heart directly into yours. Most of the emotions it rises probably coming from his choice of wording, maybe an error of translation, a lack of exactitude that doesn’t come smoothly. You've never heard anyone said those words to you and somehow, so unprepared for it, you can hardly handle the overwhelming burst of gratitude.

With the greatest pleasure, you jump on the occasion to bring something good to him, what you meant to say when he started first, the story about last time and how confident you are that better days are yet to come.

It brings an evident brush of light to his expression. The youthful sense he gave off when he just walked in, made of warm colours and smiles, is back. As if a weight has been lifted. As if he trusts you with his son, now wearing his hopefulness and trust and appreciation on this soft face of his, and you feel yourself blush in delight.

It’s precisely why you do what you do. Most of the times, those moments come in more subtle, almost dubious manifestations. It’s a drawing made ‘only for you, Miss’ or a kid you haven’t seen in a few years recognising you from across a hallway and beaming all his teeth your way; or maybe a present too nicely picked out and wrapped up too well to be the product of a kid’s, handed to you at the end of the year.

It's a wonderful feeling you're experiencing.

Until it turns sort of awkward. You mean, from a third party, maybe from Jimmy's eyes, it’s definitely awkward. It doesn’t exactly feel this way for you though. You're just kind of staring at each other, grinning obnoxiously. Delighted by the turns of events -even more so with the start of the conversation, which brought difficult painful shocks to an already sensitive soul, the benevolence and mutual understanding feel all the more pleasant.

Conquered by each other in a way you probably won’t be able to express very well with words if any of you tried. You see in him an ally -which is always such a wonderful feeling because as curious as it is, all parents are not always reliable allies to you, teachers- and you think he does too.

It’s just that it lasts for quite a bit. Probably too long. Until finally, the rummage going on outside brings you back to earth and school that is about to start in a few reminds itself to you.

Quickly he thanks me again, in between the bursting in of a loud, chatty-feeling Riley Donovan, and a Charlotte dragging her feet in discontent. He says something about meeting again before he’s rushing to Jimmy, whose calm demeanour has wavered when his classmates starting walking in.

It’s as heartwarming as last time. The way Mr Kim just has to lean forward to wrap his arms around Jimmy to have him melt onto his chest, face burying in his neck and tiny hands squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until the chubby fingers turn white against his dad’s neck. There’s an exchange of secret words and of gazes, special ones that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, you believe on the moment, until Mr Kim needs to depart and does so.

The gaze Jimmy had for his dad doesn’t disappear right as the later leaves. It remains and is directed solely on you in a very peculiar way, so notable that your heart starts racing when you notice.

Jimmy who usually avoids eye contact, sometimes would look at you, if you're addressing directly to him for example and those looks are systematically made of bewilderment, maybe fear, definite insecurity. Like a prey caught in a predator's radar.

But now those eyes, the round, dark wonders are lingering with something utterly different. A stillness that hits so differently. You're not sure if you are seeing things, if it’s wishful thinking. If it’s you now watching through the lens of someone beyond enchanted, purely content from the newfound trust and confidence and inspiration.

When you free your class for recess, you have confirmation that something has changed. You have no idea how he did it without you noticing but as you turn your back to the door to face your desk -and your chair, which your legs are dreading to have you throw yourself on- you see the perfect tidy pile of your crayons laid carefully on top of it. A few papers are sitting next to it, less than you gave him.

It’s ridiculous, embarrassing to an extent you would never tell that moment out loud but you end up jumping on the balls of your feet, clapping your hands together like a stupid seal, squealing before grabbing the stack of crayons and pressing it to your heart.

A/N : thanks so much for having waited for me so patiently; as always, lots of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

[mylovelies-docx]

Kid Krow - Comfort Crowd

Part 6!

A/N: We finally find out what promise Y/N made and couldn’t keep.

Chapter warnings: angst (as always), and like one paragraph of very vague smut.

As always, listen to the song here!

And read the story on AO3 here!

Taglist: @maraudersandco @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @hkmultifandom @spider-starry @ashleykaiba @mayangel19

Word count: 3.2k (a long boy!)

When you stormed out of the cockpit, Mille, Zalos, and Arle refused to look at you. You couldn’t blame them; you looked like hell. Zorii sat sharpening a blade and ticked her head towards the cockpit, asking silently if you wanted her to deal with Poe. You sniffed hard, scrubbed at your eyes, shook your head, and practically ran to your quarters.

You pleaded with the universe to just make Poe sit still and not follow you. You could not handle another moment with him, or else you would explode. Or more specifically, your heart would explode and you would die a slow, agonized death. All because of Poe kriffing Dameron and his stupid, stupid , friendship.

You made your way through the corridors, leaning heavily against the walls in order to not fall over in your pursuit of a private downward spiral.

Eventually you made it to your door and entered your code. The door slid open and you rushed inside, closing it behind you as fast as you could so you could be alone. But going where so many memories of Poe lived had been a mistake. Being alone with your thoughts and emotions was just too much.

It was all too much.

With a shattered scream, you broke down. Every last piece of your heart was wrecked and crushed and ripped apart until it was unrecognizable. And still, this burning, unending pain would not. Go. Away!

Outside, you heard a raised voice. Poe. Saying something about needing to talk, to explain, to apologize. But then muffled, indistinct words of warning from Zorii. You knew that Zorii would not let Poe anywhere near you after what had just happened and how upset she knew you were.

Zorii walked inside, her lithe frame seemed to be held together by rage alone. She hadn’t even bothered to knock or ask if you wanted someone around. But regardless, she was now your best friend, and you just needed company now.

“I will refrain from speaking too much on it, but I do need to emphasize how much I despise that man for everything he’s done to you,” she explained, and settled on your cot.

You wheezed out a humourless laugh. You were numb, through and through, after the havoc that had occurred over your last two encounters with Poe.

Zorii was still angry, but she opened her arms to you for comfort anyway. The look on her face and in her manners spoke of softness in spite of her fury, and it broke whatever respite your breakdown had afforded you. A cry exploded from between your lips, slamming into the walls of your quarters and deafening you. It was the sound of anguish and pain and betrayal that was ripped straight from your heart.

You hadn’t felt so miserable and pitiful in all your life: those stupid kids from back home could never have made you feel as bad as Poe has.

Zorii opened her arms wider and you ran to her. You clutched at her waist, burying your face in her stomach and just sobbed . Sobbed for the best and only friend that you had had for years before Zorii came along. Sobbed for the stupid, love-sick fool that couldn’t take a fucking hint and get over her best friend that never saw anything in her anyway.

Sobbed for yourself. Your pitiful, sad excuse of a self.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine,” you muttered over and over again in hopes of getting your pain under control. “I don’t really need him. I don’t. I don’t…”

She sighed, rubbing soothing circles into your back. “ You’ve said that lie already . We both know what a load of bantha crap it is.”

You repeat yourself over and over again, trying to drive it through your own skull instead of hers.

“Look,” Zorii sighed once again, “I know you loved him. As more than a best friend.” You cringed against her, ashamed that Zorii had to find out how you felt about the man she had been sleeping with. “And trust me, I understand the appeal all too well. I wouldn’t have started anything up with him if I had known how you felt. And to give credits where credits are due, you hid it really well; I had no idea until last week.”

You still couldn’t believe that Poe had said that to you in front of Zorii, remembering how terrible you had felt about it and how profusely you had apologized to Zorii once she had come to check on you that night.

“I overheard your holo-vid with Kes the other night as well,” Zorii admitted, wincing at her own invasion of your privacy. You were too overwhelmed to tell her you really didn’t mind.

“He mentioned some force tree or something? I don’t really know what you had said before that, but he mentioned that and you went quiet. I’ll admit that I was intrigued and maybe wandered closer to your door than I intended to.”

Her voice went soft after that.

“But then I heard you mention that he knew: what who knew, at that point, I wasn’t sure. But you went on to explain how you had felt so pretty dressed up in Shara Bey’s dress and how you had prepared a whole speech. At that point, I figured you were talking about Poe.”

You closed your eyes against her and tried hard to push the memory away.

***

It was a lovely day on Yavin IV, and the big, gnarly-rooted force tree near the Dameron’s household was a brilliant green in the midday glow. The wind was whispering through the jungle, and all the creatures that made it their home seemed to be singing along to some unspoken melody. Just for you.

And for Poe, whenever he decided to show up.

You were all nerves. Sweat under your arms, a racing heart, and clammy hands: always the best look for confessing your love to someone.

You and Poe had returned home to Yavin last month after being away for a few years. Your group had had a close call on the last run, and you begged Poe to come with you to see Kes and your gran.

Your gran couldn’t care less that you hadn’t been home, but Kes was ecstatic that you guys had come back to see him.

Poe had gone to the market to pick up some snacks for the picnic Kes told him you had planned. Poe just didn’t know that it was supposed to be a date for the two of you, and Kes wasn’t going to spoil the surprise.

You were busy getting ready when Kes presented you with the most beautiful dress you had ever seen from Shara Bey’s closet. He was adamant that you wore that particular dress, since it was the one he loved most on her. Your emotions were already bubbling over from anxiety, but the look on Kes’s face when he looked at the dress broke your heart. You could see that he was reliving a memory of him and Shara Bey, and you just couldn’t break the spell that it had over him, so you sat quietly.

He eventually resurfaced and left you alone to finish your routine, all the while insisting that you’d be his official daughter sooner or later. Your smile was so big that it hurt your cheeks.

You arrived at the tree and started to set up the blanket and pillows that you had brought from the Dameron household. The blanket was spread out in the flattest nook between roots, and the pillows were propped up against the trunk. You took your place among the pillows and waited.

And waited.

Admittedly, Poe was prone to getting carried away with conversations between himself and the vendors, but that particular outing seemed to last forever in your mind. You knew why later, but at that point in time, you were convinced that Poe felt something for you and would return for you soon.

You knew that he felt something for you; on all your spice runs, he begged you to stay inside the ship and be safe, he brought you back pretty trinkets that he said reminded him of you, and he was always flirting.

Always.

The nickname he gave you? Princess? Absolutely flirtatious. The hugs before and after he left the ship? Obviously an excuse to be close to you. The little winks he’d send over the fire at you and all the inside jokes you two had? Come on! It was all right there. And Kes agreed! So, you two devised this little set up so that you could finally confess to Poe.

Even with only the progression of Yavin Prime to get a rough estimate of time’s passage, it still took Poe entirely too long to find you. When he finally showed up, you had fallen into a light sleep.

“Where’s dad?” Poe asked, setting down a basket with absolutely nothing in it. He plopped down right beside it, startling you awake.

“Where are our picnic supplies?” You countered, rubbing your eyes and feeling nauseous and disoriented after your impromptu nap.

He lifted his hands in the air as if to say “what can you do” and grunted. “Everyone had packed up by the time I got there. Why isn’t dad out here with us? Did he go back to the house to grab something?” His nonchalance and lack of apology really ate away at your resolve to profess your love to him. You wanted to know what took him so long before you said anything about your feelings.

“No, no he never came out here,” you explained. “Why did it take you so long to get to the market? You left hours ago -- the sun’s going down.” You were wringing your hands in your lap, nervous about what his answer could be.

“I was just catching up with someone; nothing to worry your beautiful head about.” When he said that, he had smoothed over the top of your head like a cherished and beloved friend. “It’s a good thing for us, I promise,” he winked. You were eating it all up like you were starved for affection.

How tragic.

You quickly grasped his hand before you lost all nerve. You kept it between your palms, drawing patterns on the back of it that kept your eyes down and away from his questioning gaze and adorable, slightly confused smile.

The future opened up bright and wonderful before you: your mutual affections coming out in the open and that long-awaited first kiss. Stars , you had been fantasizing about Poe’s lips for more than half of your life at that point. And his hands. His hands! Maker, if they would just glide over your skin and caress you like you had pictured for years, you would die a happy woman. And you’d thread your hands through those beautiful curls at the nape of his neck and tug just a little bit, until he groaned like you had always heard in your dreams. You would move together, right on that blanket under the force tree you and Poe had always loved. You would come apart in the most delicious way, panting and crying, with his mother’s ring dangling from the chain around his neck and nestling itself into the hollow of your throat. And then he would grind into you one final time and just pour his affections into your neck and mouth for safe keeping.

How goddamn tragic it all turned out to be .

“I need to tell you something,” you whispered, looking up through your eyelashes at him. He grinned, seeming just as excited and nervous as you were.

“Me too. I’ve been dying to tell you something for days now!” He wiggled where he sat next to you, scooting as close as he could and touching your foreheads together, like you were about to share secrets that were only meant for the two of you.

“You first,” you said, breathless. You couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

“No, no. You had something to say first, so you go ahead.” Poe had still been grinning at you, the happiest you had seen him in a while.

“How about we say it together?” You countered, giving his hand a little squeeze in anticipation.

“Okay, on the count of three,” he began.

“One…” you said together.

“Two…” you continued.

“Three!” You shut your eyes.

“I love you,” -- “Zorii and I are together,”

Silence. Your eyes were still shut, but now you were holding them so tightly that shapes were floating behind your eyelids. Poe pulled his hand from yours.

“What?” He asked, sounding confused and slightly wounded. Like he couldn’t believe that you had the nerve to say that out loud and ruin everything .

“Don’t,” you began, turning your head down and willing your heart to stop its frantic pace in your chest. “I – I didn’t know… I thought…” you trailed off, unsure what to say to fix the mess that you had created.

“(Y/N), do—do you love me? As more than a friend?” He grabbed your chin and forced you to meet his baffled gaze. You couldn’t think straight at that point, so you said the first thing that had popped in your mind.

“Yes, of course I do.”

Stupid girl.

“Oh, princess.” He released your chin and sat back, resting against the pillows like he was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to deal with the situation any longer. “I’m sorry if I ever did anything to lead you on; I just thought we were friends. I mean, we both see other people, and I’ve never felt that way about you so I didn’t think you did either.”

He could not have said anything worse to you in that moment, could not have said anything that sucked all the warmth from your body any faster than that had.

Okay, (Y/N), just breathe. Think of a way out of this, you begged your frazzled mind. Anything would be better than the silence stretching between you at that point.

“I guess… I got some things confused. I’m sorry.” And now you were that little girl again, apologizing for things out of your control and no fault of your own.

You felt small again, insignificant and alone. A floating pile of junk in the vacuum of space, with no planet in sight and no answers to your distress calls.

Poe could see you spiraling, he had known you long enough to recognize the signs.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, princess, we’ll figure this out,” he murmured, coming closer to you once again. He arranged the pillows so that he could lay back with you on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and muttered soothing words, trying to calm you down and bring you back to him. Like he had done so many times before.

“No, there’s nothin’ to figure out; this is on me. Just give me some time and I’ll get over it.” You hadn’t gotten over it in all the years you had loved him-- truly loved him-- but you had vowed to figure it out, and quickly, so that you could stop feeling like that. “I promise I’ll get over it,” you said into the fist that was curled next to your face on his chest.

You closed your eyes and tried not to focus too hard on how good he felt underneath you like that. How intimate it was, how much it reminded you of the outcome of every daydream you had had.

How you knew that it was probably how he and Zorii spent their nights together now...

***

“Kes didn’t know how that day turned out because Poe and I fell asleep outside. I was too embarrassed to face him that next mornin’, so I sent Poe back to tell him we got an urgent message and had to leave. I don’t know exactly what they said to each other, but Poe looked sad when he came back and I didn’t wanna know.” The confession slipped through your lips, chapped from all the salty tears that you had cried into Zorii’s tunic.

“Oh, (Y/N). I’m so, so sorry. He was on a call with me that evening. I had no idea you were waiting on him; he just mentioned you all were going on a picnic and that his dad could keep you company for a while.” Her hands clenched against your back, as if trying to protect from a hurt that had already passed and done its damage.

“That boy wouldn’t know a Gungan from an Ewok if they were both standing in front of him. The only reason we ever got together was because I made the first move.” Her hands now continued their previous path of soothing circles, hoping to make up for the pain that she unintentionally caused not so long ago.

It amazed you how drastically things could change in such a short amount of time.

“It’s alright, Zorii, I’m not mad at you. I’m just angry at myself. Always at myself. For bein’ too slow, too emotional, too much and never enough at the same time.” You were defeated and exhausted, no longer able to keep even an ember of your earlier fire alive.

“I will not tolerate you speaking about my best friend that way; she is a wonderful person, and the best damn pilot we’ve ever had. She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way,” Zorii chided, having pushed you away from her and giving you a stern look.

You returned something resembling a smile.

You looked back to her lap where you had just spent an indeterminate amount of time; the white fabric covering her stomach was completely transparent.

“Oh Rii, I’m sorry about your clothes,” you mumbled, trying to dry it with the sleeves of your outfit. It did no good.

“I don’t really mind; I like my shirts soggy,” she said, deadpan.

This time, a real laugh bubbled up from your throat. You were immensely grateful you had a friend like her.

______

For months after Poe’s departure, you kept a smile on your shoulders until you were sweaty; begging on your knees for somebody to come and help you when it was too much to carry. Zorii did her best, but no one could replace the comfort and happiness you had once found in Poe. You eventually stopped asking for help and pretended to have moved on.

But time passes, and past hurts are less painful. Especially when you don’t think about them.

You had seen the missed messages from Poe in those early days. Every time your comm buzzed, the despair you felt over your situation returned tenfold, and the only option was to throw the device in a forgotten corner and let it die -- just like your feelings.

[dastardlydandelion]

Max Mayfield and Tory Nichols in a horror film, what would be the plot/monster and would they survive?

this is it. this is the tumblr ask. the ask i've been waiting for my whole life. my time to shine, here we go!

filming begins under the cut:

tried and true creature feature, this is a werewolf movie. let's go with a werewolf between the van helsing (2004) and trick r treat (2007) variety. the beast once transformed is fucking huge, clearly both lupine and human, head almost entirely wolf, body primarily bipedal in shape, but robust, sinew shredding claws and big ass bone tearing teeth. also tails!! bc tails are cute!!! powers include monstrous strength, accelerated speed, healing factor. weaknesses silver and decapitation.

okay, so van helsing (2004) werewolves are mindless rage monsters and trick r treat (2007) werewolves are cognizant. for our max & tory creature feature, they're gonna of the in between variety. i chose a werewolf movie for these two specifically bc they both have their anger problems and the werewolf has long been a symbol of anger unleashed in the horror genre, even tho common gray wolves are just like. i mean, yk, animals, they hunt and howl and pee on trees and most of the time would rather avoid humans. but obvi horror genre werewolves are not common gray wolves, they need to be scary, and like, the remnants of traditional folklore influenced by rabies and discourse in the middle ages...wait, where was i going with this? anger, yes, max and tory both have anger problems and i think this works for what i'm gonna do with this theoretical movie.

who's the werewolf in town? terry fucking silver. bc terry is evil and dramatic and also, i think it's rly funny for a werewolf to have silver as a surname. he's fully cognizant in his transformation and he's purposefully biting kids and teenagers bc he wants more talented karate students. and like. yk, with the enhanced strength, speed, and regenerative recovery of lycanthropy, well. there u have it, more talented karate students.

do max and tory know each other, if so, how? okay, so in this 'verse tory is a lil older than max. that reflects their canon ages, i think. let's say max is 13 and tory is 16. billy has tory in some of his classes and he more or less makes a deal to spilt his allowance with her if she'll babysit max bc he's tired of neil riding his ass to babysit max. tory needs money so she's like, 'sure, why not.' max finds it rly stupid that she's 13 and neil thinks she needs a fucking babysitter but as far as babysitters go, tory is fun. she likes to show max what she's learning in cobra kai and they spar together a lot. max would actually like to join cobra kai but 1) neil would throw a fit on various fronts and 2) lucas is in miyagi-do. max knows there's some rly intense beef between cobra kai and miyagi-do. ofc tory's filled her in on the karate war, how could she not?

well one day tory takes max to the playground to watch a plane fly like she does with miggy in ck, and it's nighttime, ofc, and lo, the full moon is out. shining up in the sky. they hear a howl. they both look at each other. max is kinda curious but tory's like nah, nah, we gotta go. she grabs her, starts pulling her along. but the next howl is a lot closer and they can hear smth running and it just sounds fuckin big. they're running too now, legs pumping hard, but there's no escape once the beast is right behind them, hot, rancid breath blasting the backs of their necks and harvest gold eyes glowing in the dark.

max gets bitten first. tory tries to kick the big ass beast off of her and then it rounds and bites her too. the terror is real now. and then shockingly, as fast as it'd come, it leaves. neither girl has an explanation for wtaf just happened but tory takes max home. billy gripes at her for being out late but helps her patch up. when susan learns what happens she decides to take max to get rabies shots right away. loads her up in the car, runs her off to the emergency room-- but when the bandages come off, they are no wounds.

tory's bby bro tries to help patch her up too. but he's like 4 yrs old and his idea of "help" is sticking bandaids with cartoon characters up and down the wounds in haphazard fashion. tory plans to redo it all properly once she's put him to bed. sure enough after he's asleep, and she peels the bandaids off from every open mouthed pac-man to every green teenage mutant ninja turtle, the wounds are gone.

meanwhile there's missing ppl err day on the news. terry turns kids and teens but kills adults for the lulz.

tory and max know what happened to them was an event that tangibly, definitely happened but neither have any explanation for their wounds just disappearing. max, our resident horror fan, is the first to propose a real life werewolf as an explanation. she cites the missing ppl on the news. tory thinks she's tripping balls but reluctantly gives an inch when she acknowledges no, she can't think of any other explanation.

life goes on. max tells lucas what happened only she leaves out the part abt tory bc she's not gonna tell a miyagi-do student she's kickin it w the enemy. he doesn't rly believe her, like how she didn't rly believe him about the upside-down in their canon. he thinks the horror movies are rotting her brain.

tory almost tells her dojo but she gets distracted being pissed off by sam and that should be her priority, right? sensei kreese is always going on abt getting back at the enemy. she spends her shifts daydreaming abt revenge bc it's more comforting than worrying abt past due bills and her mother looking paler by the day.

full moon next month comes around. neither tory nor max are cognizant of or during their first respective transformations. max's first kill is neil. she's seven feet of fur and fury, tears his ribcage open with claws like daggers and sinks her teeth into his putrid, maggoty heart. susan isn't home. billy is, but he doesn't hear any of the fracas. he's unconscious on the living room floor, crisscrossing impressions of neil's belt buckle blaring red on his back.

tory's first kill is sam. sam larusso wants to think she's a bully?? fine, tory will show her a bully. she hops the miyagi-do fence after hours. she just wants a fight. just a fight, they always fight. but then she's sprouting fur and tory as tory gives way to smth else. she'd not aware of being a person when she doesn't have fur. not really, all she knows is rage and ravenousness and the morsel below her has bunny rabbit wide eyes.

neither of them remember what they did the next day. not vividly, anyway. it's there but it's cloudy and hard to discern, like a groggy fever dream more than a memory. but max burps up neil's wedding band and tory finds señor octopus (sam's stuffed animal) bloodied in her bed. it's apparent what happened. max accepts this more easily than tory bc 1) she always kind of suspected she'd turn, since she sincerely considered what attacked them was a werewolf and 2) max isn't terribly upset abt killing neil while tory is acutely horrified she killed sam.

max kinda had some smidgen of attachment to neil bc like, he's the only father figure in her life and here and there they've had their moments. but his abuse (psychological/physical toward billy, sexual/financial/psychological/emotional toward susan, psychological/emotional toward herself) outweighed any and all of those moments. she is genuinely concerned that she tore a human being to pieces and only vaguely remembers it but like, if she had to kill anyone, she figures neil was the best to kill. max is mostly concerned bc she can't kill neil a second time. she's worried the next time she turns it could be an innocent person, or one of her friends, or her mom, or billy.

tory is blindsided and scarcely able to comprehend the reality, holy shit, max was right, she's a fuckin werewolf. and she's sick to her stomach bc she hated sam but she never wanted to do anything like that. she didn't want to kill, she just wanted to break her face. scare her. rough her up. she didn't want to eat her. she just killed someone. she's a literal horror movie monster and she just killed sam. what's miguel going to think?

tory and max talk. they decide they need to find the werewolf who turned them. we get montages of them going over the news articles with a fine-toothed *ba dum tss* comb and searching areas where it seems like a werewolf would be. the woods. some caves. max all of a sudden has a freakishly tall man constantly hounding her to join cobra kai. neil's gone but she still hesitates bc of lucas being in miyagi-do. also he believes max now and with the proff, she's decided to let the rest of the party in as well. they also exist in this 'verse. she showed them the crime scene and the wedding band she burped up. billy isn't a roid rage racist in this 'verse bc that would be a giant buzzkill. he doesn't believe the werewolf shit either. he thinks max saw neil get attacked by some animal and that the carnage was so traumatizing for her, she subconsciously created a werewolf fantasy to cope.

tory meanwhile spirals downward. bc she passes sam's memorialized locker in the hall everyday. her memorial table in the other hall, full of sticky note condolences and mournful teddy bears, and a picture of sam right in the center always, always accusing her. miggy is heartbroken and distraught. hawk didn't care for sam but even he's freaked out by what happened, how the news said there were only torn up chunks and bones picked clean found in her bedroom. tory is terrified of herself. she's desperate to find whoever did this bc she wants to make them pay. if sensei silver has been asking her extra questions lately and presenting her performance to the class more than normal, she doesn't notice at all. aisha notices tory's fucked up but tory can't exactly tell aisha that she *ate* sam. aisha is also mourning, she and sam used to be bffs. so she doesn't say a word.

max has a theory that if u can learn to control ur anger, u can learn to control urself when u shift. she is, after all, v familiar with angry horror movie werewolves. and she's savvy enough to know it's smth she and tory have in common. neil is dead but that doesn't mean max isn't angry anymore. she's still angry at the damage already done and tbh also angry that there's some werewolf around turning ppl willy nilly bc she recognizes the danger in that and it wasn't smth she consented to. but controlling ur anger is an easier feat for max than tory insofar that max has a support system w her friends, and better relationships with the remainder of her fam. tory has two mentors actively, adamantly teaching her and her friends to be ruthless, view the world as ur enemy, use violence as ur go-to solution, and that mercy is weakness not to be tolerated.

when the next full moon rolls around, they decide to spend it together under the correct inference that they will transform. they think it's better to be together. they're hoping they'll be able to control each other, if not themselves. or that if they are both mindless rage monsters again, that rage will be turned on each other. this would be a better outcome operating on the presumption that one werewolf will be able to take what another can dish out, at the v least more so than a regular human being.

max is successfully able to maintain enough of her consciousness to control her actions once transformed. she feels aggressive and hungry, but not enraged and ravenous. she can keep it in check. tory, on the other hand, uh...tory can't do it. she throws her wolf head back in the most bloodcurdling howl ever and takes off like a bat outta hell. max goes loping after her. they can't speak like human speak in this form, but max tries to communicate with her. whimpers plaintively. tackles tory at one point, not out of anger but just tryna subdue her, licks at her ears and tries to get her to settle. tory bucks her off.

tory runs off again, max in pursuit. they wind up at the skate park where billy n robby are prolly up to some fuckery or another. i could easily see pre miyagi-do robby n billy getting up to all kinds of mischief. ooh, actually, they're prolly arguing abt that. now that robby's in miyagi-do he has another outlet for all his energy and he's getting the positive attention he craves so he's not participating in hooligan activity or shenanigans w billy anymore and billy is like. offended. except suddenly there's werewolves. fucking. snarling, gigantic, toothy, hairy ass werewolves.

let's say robby kicked miguel down two stories in this 'verse too and tory recognizes him in her werewolf form even if she isn't exactly cognizant of herself. she tears straight for him, jaws open. billy doesn't exactly *mean* to protect him but it's kinda an automatic reaction from putting himself in between whenever he thought neil was getting too aggressive w susan or max. and like, sure, robby's the better fighter (not that billy would ever acknowledge this) but it's not like he's gonna karate kick the motherfuckin werewolf anyway-- billy is bigger, he's bigger and it's instinct and the next thing he knows, he's in between robby and the thing w sharp teeth (tory).

and that's when max gets serious. she bowls tory over, away from billy before she can bite. they're rolling, tearing at each other with teeth and claws. lo and behold, terry silver is lurking in the background like the evil mastermind he is, just watching them shred each other and evaluating his experiment. it's a p close match and tory is the more aggressive of the two but she's also been going, going, going since she shifted and she's burning herself out. she's also fighting with the blind instinct of a threatened animal while max maintains more precision bc she has better control of herself. max also isn't wasting energy unnecessarily. max gets her jaws around tory's throat and tory just goes slack. but she can think and she doesn't want to hurt tory, so she opens her mouth and relaxes her maw, teeth grazing harmlessly thru tory's fur.

tory's being shown mercy. possibly for the first time. it's so unlike her conception of others' ruthlessness, so unlike the worldview that's been instilled into her that it startles her enough to crack thru to her cognizance. she does the wolfy deference thing where they tuck their tails and lick at the dominant pack member's muzzle. max responds in kind and lets tory up.

this is when they notice terry lurking (billy's already worked out the werewolf that came to his defense is max so he's just dumbfounded watching all this shit, and robby's not abt to leave someone who just saved his ass, so he's stuck unsuccessfully tryna pull billy away and inevitably watching too). terry calmly slinks over, sizing up his charges. he's pleased with the performance. but tory and max are anything but, another werewolf fight ensues.

so while they all get huge after transforming sheerly on the basis of being werewolves, i'm gonna guess the size is proportionate to their human forms. so tory is a little larger than max and terry significantly outsizes them both. terry is also the more experienced werewolf. it's two against one but it's not the curbstop it would be if this was some weaksauce werewolf, it's dramatic evil karate werewolf terry fuckin silver. terry's shredding tf outta these two. their healing factor can't keep up, he's dishing out faster than either of them can recover and tbh they were already winded from fighting each other first.

but it'd be a major buzzkill if our movie had a downer ending. and also, the power of determination and friendship and shit. terry's got his jaws around max's throat now. he's a millisecond away from tearing it open. tory's pinned under him but she thinks fast, frees a hind leg, and rips her claws down his soft underbelly as deep as she can and doesn't stop ripping, like pedal kicking almost for a human, but with her hind claws. his intestines shoot out like paper snakes from a gag candy can!! okay, well, maybe they don't shoot out w that much gusto, but still. the bowels are free, the bowels are hanging low and tory's tearing 'em tf up, fluids n fecal matter errywhere. on tory. i'm sorry tory. ur under him, that's just how gravity works.

terry dies. healing factor can't keep up with the damage done, it's too critical. but nobody knows it's terry until the dawn breaks and he reverts back to his human shape.

max is v much 'i told u so,' in billy's face. robby promises not to tell. he doesn't want to get mauled or killed or anything. tory's able to cope better with what she did to sam knowing that it won't happen again, that she won't hurt anyone else she doesn't want to be she can control herself now. tory believes in mercy now bc max spared her, she trashes kreese's philosophy and joins eagle fang when johnny and daniel join forces in this 'verse too. max also joins eagle fang, takes her place in the front row right between tory and lucas at her v first practice.

credits roll.

after the credits we see tory considering turning her mother in the hopes that having the healing factor would help her mom's condition improve.

is that a teaser for the sequel?

idfk.

[notquitecanon]

hello! i hope you’re doing well and staying safe!! i was wondering if you could do a imagine/fic where y/n is also in the bau and gets hurt on the job, and spencer is super worried, protective and sweet when they finally find her? thank you so much!! i adore your work and honestly can’t wait to read loads more!! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

This is way longer than I anticipated. Sorry I got a little carried away.

TW: uh, blood, guns, basically if you can’t watch criminal minds, don’t read this??

_____

Everything hurt as you started to come to, confused and out of it. Slowly, you remembered what happened, raising a shaky hand to find warm, sticky blood on your temple where you had been hit. It was hard to keep your eyes open, even the dim lighting of the basement was too much for your throbbing head. Nevertheless, you pried them open and looked around for anything you could use against your attacker- who, at this point, was undoubtedly the unsub. 

“I knew filling in for JJ while she was on maternity leave might be a little more dangerous than teaching at the FBI academy, but I didn’t expect to get hit in the head just for showing my badge-  I know I retired from the field early, but I used to get a lot farther before someone tried to hit me.”  You thought, wincing as you tried to sit up- everything from the neck down was hurting, “What did he push me down the stairs too?” 

Finally, you were able to push your self so you sat against the wall- which you tried to ignore the dark red smeared and splattered stains on- as you heard the unsub stomping around upstairs. If you strained you could barely hear him talking to himself, definitely delusional, those are the most dangerous types. Delusional or not, he knew you were FBI (and judging by the sun flitting in through the one, tiny window you’d only been out a couple hours) so it wouldn’t be long before people came looking for you. 

Peeling off the blazer you had worn that day, you took a deep breath. You just had to stay alive until they found you.

_______

Meanwhile at the local police station:

Spencer tiredly popped his neck before taking a sip of his coffee (the station hadn’t had Tea and he needed the caffeine), relishing the short mental break before he went back to the board. Morgan was with Lewis going over the latest autopsy results while Rossi interviewed a couple of parents in one of the station’s waiting areas- so the conference room they had taken over was unusually quiet. Not that the genius minded. Those meticulous eyes raked over the map where he’d originally designed the geographic profile, but they’d exhausted every possibility in the area. He glanced over his shoulder at the fresh map where he had been trying to come up with another one, but something didn’t feel right. He knew the original geographic profile was right, they just had to be missing something. 

In his peripheral, he saw Hotch slip into the room with a folder in his hand- like Reid, his mind was stuck on something too- a missing person's case. The only person in the whole town who fit their profile went missing five years ago at fifteen. They’d already interviewed the man’s parents, who just explained that he was a troubled individual and slipped away in the night. That didn’t sit well with Hotch, so he sent you back to their house to ask some follow-up questions since they hadn’t been answering their phone- he just forgot to tell Spencer. 

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment of his arrival, and Hotch gave him a nod, not even looking up. The doctor tapped a finger on the map of the suburban town they were in, sighing “I feel like we’re missing the one piece of information we need to solve this case.”

“Isn’t that how it always goes, though?” Rossi teased lightly as he sauntered in, the three agents could hear the latest victim’s mother sobbing as she left the precinct. They all grimaced but carried on. 

“Yes, but I agree. We’re definitely missing something.” Hotch agreed as Morgan and Lewis rushed into the conference room. 

“You’ll never guess what we just found.” Lewis announced as she pulled two evidance bags out of her coat pocket, tossing one to Hotch who shared with Rossi and one to Spencer. The clear bags both contained a stained scrap of paper, but the writing was clear. 

“I’m Still Here.” Reid read aloud, throwing Morgan a questioning look. 

“These were hidden in the last two victims throats, the ME is reexamining the other victims as we speak.” Morgan clarified, “We only found this because a different ME examined the lastest body.”

Hotch frowned, remember the lackluster medical examiner they first encountered. As the team threw around ideas about this new find, Spencer looked around the room realizing a voice was missing. 

“Hey, has anyone seen (Y/N)? I haven’t seen her since she left to revisit the dumpsites.” He asked, not paying attention to Morgan’s teasing. (You and Spencer had been dating for months before you got asked to temporarily join the team, and the team had only found out about it recently. Hotch agreed to let you stay, since your work with them was only temporary and JJ would be back in two weeks anyway.)  

Hotch glanced at him, furrowing his eyebrows, “After she did that, I asked her to follow up with the Greys since she was already on that side of town.”

Spencer turned his head to gaze out of the large window at the setting sun, Hotch seemed to follow his line of thought, “That was hours ago, has anyone heard from her?” 

The air in the room turned tense as everyone drew up blank, everyone in the room could see the lines of worry and stress tension rapidly appearing in the youngest team member as he left the room. Minutes later, he came back looking even worse, “Guys, her phone is going straight to ‘caller unavailable’”

Hotch pressed a button on the conference rooms phone, near immediately Spencer’s claims were confirmed with a monotonous, “I’m sorry the number you're attempting to reach is unavailable please try again at a later date.” 

Morgan was quick to do something similar, switching to speaker as the line connected this time to a bright, cheery voice as Spencer began nervously picking at his fingernails, foot-tapping as she greeted them, “Hello, crime fighters, what can I do for you!” 

“Baby girl, we need a location on (Y/N)’s cell phone.” Morgan was quick to cut to the chase, negating their usual banter. Even over the phone, Spencer could feel the hacker’s mood change only confirmed by the immediate clicking of keys followed by muttering. 

“Oh, ok, oh no, that’s never good.” She whispered as she worked, “Oh! oh...”

“What is it?” Spencer pressed immediately, almost tripping over a chair leg as if getting closer to the phone would give him answers faster. Rossi tried to comfort him with a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Reid didn’t even notice it. 

“That last transmitted location was 5 hours ago.” She informed them,  “Address is on your phones.” 

Spencer did the mental math in a fraction of a second, five hours ago was around noon. You’d been missing since noon and he’d just found out? A flash of frustration went through the doctor before melting into an even greater sense of worry- a lot could happen in five hours. 

His genius brain was working so fast in a downward spiral of all the terrible possibilities that could happen that he almost didn’t hear Hotch announce, “That’s Mason Grey’s parent’s house, she was there to ask some follow-up questions.”

“The kid that went missing?” Rossi asked as the missing piece clicked in Spencer’s brain. 

“I’m still here! What if Mason Grey didn’t go missing, but his parents just hid him. He was showing early symptoms of mental problems, and we’ve seen it before.” Spencer almost shouted. Garcia was still on the line, and announced, “And, the house is in the middle of the kill zone” 

“Neither one of the Grey’s showed up to their jobs today or yesterday. That’s not a good sign is it.” 

“That kind of isolation could drive someone crazy, especially if they were already mentally ill,” Lewis added. Spencer had already made up his mind, and every minute that they weren’t on their way to you was slowly driving him crazy.

Hotch only thought about it for another minute, “Vests on, we’re leaving in five minutes.”

Spencer was in the car in two.

__________

You could barely see the sun setting through the tiny basement window, but it didn’t bode well as it was your only source of light. Your attempts to explore hadn’t been very fruitful, as once you finally managed to stand up you were made painfully aware that your knee was dislocated. Nevertheless, with a huff you resigned yourself to limp around. 

Fruitful or not, you made some discoveries. First, you found the remained peices of your destroyed phone- considering it was in four large pieces you didn’t even attempt to turn it on. Next, you discovered the tiny window was sealed shut so you couldn’t even attempt an escape. Lastly, you found a locked room in corner of the room with an all too familiar rotting smell seeping from under the door. That must be the Grey’s you decided solemnly. The door itself was old and rickety-splintering in some places, even with bad leg you figured you could probably get it open. I could probably use my shoulder and ram it down, bodies or not, there might be a window in there that isn’t sealed. 

“Get away from there!” 

A shout startled you, and instinctively you ripped your hand off the doorknob you were jiggling. You didn’t have to turn around to know he had a gun, you heard the safety click off. Holding your hands up, you were quiet. With these types of unsubs, it was best to let him call the shots. 

“T-turn around.” He demanded so you did, slowly. Greeted with the face you’d only briefly seen earlier before he’d hit you over the head with a bottle. The same face from the missing posters Hotch had shown you. This had to be Mason Grey, the missing teenager from five years ago- he’d be something like 20 years old now. He was using both hands to point a gun-your gun- at you, hands shaking as he glared at you. 

Softly speaking, you rose your eyebrows, “Are you Mason?”

He didn’t answer, using the gun to motion you to kneel down. You were already at a disadvantage, and you didn’t like the added weakness of being on the ground. 

“You’re FBI.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. 

“Yes, I am, and my team knows I’m here. If they get here and you’re pointing a gun at me, I promise you, it won’t end well for you.” You informed him, voice stern but not malicious. It was a fact, not a threat. 

“What if you’re dead when you get here?” That wasn’t a threat either, a genuine question. Somehow, that was scarier.

“Well, since your parents are behind that door and they’ll connect you to at least five victims? It still won’t end well for you.” You calmly informed him as he moved one of his hands to nibble on his dirty fingernails. His forehead was sweating, eyes darting around, and hair greasy. He was scared.

“You were never missing were you?” You asked quietly, voice soft and sympathetic. His head shook.

“Did your parents make you stay down here?” 

This time he nodded, lip wobbling as he took a sharp, deep breath, “I was different and they didn’t want people to know, so they made me stay down here. If I tried to leave, they’d lock me in there. Once they figured out I was leaving at night to go see my girlfriend, they tried to lock me up again. So I locked them in there, to see how bad it was.”

His girlfriend? Mason Grey’s real girlfriend died shortly after he went missing, maybe he saw all his victims as her? But you couldn’t worry about that, towards the end of his explanation his voice turned angry, erratic. 

“If the FBI comes here. They’ll lock me up too. You’re gonna lock me up! I DON’T WANT TO BE LOCKED UP AGAIN.” He was yelling, inching closer to you and jabbing the gun towards you. He was distracted, so he didn’t hear the sirens approaching. But you did. 

I just have to hold on a little longer. 

“Mason, I don’t want to lock you up. If you put the gun down, I can help you. I’ll tell my friends what happened to you and that you cooperated and didn’t hurt me-” You tried promising him, but you were cut off by the sound of squealing breaks in front of the house. Your eyes flicked to the tiny window, it was dusk which allowed you to see red and blue flashing lights. 

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” He bellowed, for a moment he clawed both hands into his short greasy hair. Nervously, you strained to hear stomping feet above you. Then you heard the basement door open, and at the top of the stairs, you could see those unmistakeable converse paired with Morgan shouting behind him. 

“Mason Grey, FBI.”

Spencer was here. You thought, sighing in relief, but it didn’t last long. You could see their feet, but not them so they definitely couldn’t see you- couldn’t see the gun. A moment too late, you saw Mason erratically wave the gun towards them, towards Spence. 

“NO!” You shrieked, jumping up and grabbing his arm as you tackled him. The noise and pain came at the exact moment you hit the ground with him, almost immediately rolling off of him and grasping at the warm, wet, extremely painful wound on your stomach as your eyes screwed shut. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard distantly as you tried to bring yourself back to reality, “We need an ambulance!”

You cracked your eyes open to Spencer crouched over you, eyes filled with worry as you brushed the hair off your forehead, behind him Morgan was shoving Mason up the basement stairs, probably rougher than he had to. 

Breathing heavily, one of your hands pawed at the source of pain but Spencer instead took it in his, “You’re gonna be ok, you’re going to be just fine.”

You barely nodded, trying to slow your breathing as the genius grabbed the blazer you had discarded earlier. Balling it up, he pressed against the wound to stop the bleeding. You cried out in pain at the sudden pressure reflexively squeezing his hand, Spencer winced, “I know, I know, I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” 

Everything was hazy after that, you honestly didn’t remember much, just flashes of his face, the EMT’s, him kissing your forehead begging you to stay awake, until finally you were allowed to slip off into a dreamless sleep.

_________

Spencer was sitting in the waiting room, hands still bloody as they clasped tightly. To the untrained eye, it would look like he was praying, but really he was mentally recounting everything he could have done different. I could of asked where she was earlier, I could have snuck behind him instead of letting Morgan announce us, I could of gone with her to the dumpsites so I would have been with her when Hotch asked her to go to the Grey’s home. I could of asked her not to take the job with the BAU. Derek was sitting across from him, watching him carefully and sympathetically. He was the one who had to physically hold him back from following the doctors into the surgery area, besides a whispered apology the younger agent hadn’t said anything to him since the doors closed. 

Spencer had ridden in the ambulance with you, while Derek and Hotch took an SUV behind. Rossi and Tara stuck around the Grey house to finish up the case and were still there. 

Derek watched as Spencer’s knee bounced faster than he thought was possible, the kid’s fingernails were nubs from being bitten, and Spencer had bitten his lip so much that it had started to bleed. The older agent wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know how. “Kid-”

He started, but was quickly cut off by Hotch striding back into the waiting room- he had left earlier to demand information, “She’s out of surgery. The doctor said that even though it hit an artery, the bullet missed all her organs. She’s going to be fine.” 

Derek had never seen Spencer look so relieved, he practically melted back into his chair before bowing his head. Hotch continued, “They’re getting her settled into a room, but I asked them to come get you when she’s allowed, visitors.”

Spencer just nodded allowing his eyes to close as Hotch turned to Morgan, “I’ll call Lewis and Rossi if you’ll tell Garcia.”

Morgan chuckled before agreeing, but all Spencer could think about was that you were going to be ok. 

______

Two hours later, Spencer was sitting beside your bed while you dozed- he’d been informed that you would wake up soon and decided that he wouldn’t move until you did. After the team had all come and checked on you (Spencer might be in love with you, but they were all worried as well), Derek had driven Lewis to your hotel to gather your belongings. Rossi and Hotch periodically checked on him but gave him some privacy by waiting in a lounge down the hall. 

Absentmindedly thumbing through a well-loved copy of War and Peace (the Russian Translation mind you), in two hours he could have read the book four times over if was actually focussed on it, but he was still struggling through the first half of the book. Every time you so much as sniffed in your sleep, the book was discarded not to mention that he was so caught in thought he wasn’t reading anywhere near his usual 20,000 words per minute. Sighing, he moved his eyes back to the top of the page, forcing his eyes to read the lines he’d long since memorized and mentally translate them to English. 

“You look like shit, honey.”

War and Peace clattered to the floor as his head snapped up to meet your eyes.  You hadn’t moved much, but he was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Still a little fuzzy from the anesthesia, you just watched him read trying to ignore how tired and anxious he looked. 

Without thinking you trying to sit up, but both the pain and the man next to were quick to convince you to lay back again. Spencer’s touch was gentle (it always was, but more so than usual), like you’d break if he used to much force. That was going to get annoying quickly, but you’d enjoy the doting for the moment. 

“H-How long have you been awake?” He asked as he sat back down, scooting the chair so close to the bed that his long legs had his knees pressed to the underside of the bed. You smiled softly.

“Not long, I just opened my eyes and you were muttering Russian under your breath. You only read aloud like that when you're worried.” You answered, smile turning sassy as you played with his fingers- something that always calmed him down. He managed the slightest chuckle. 

“Well, when my girlfriend has a GSW, a concussion, and bruised ribs, I get a little anxious.” He nodded, watching your hand in his. 

“Don’t forget the dislocated knee,” Hotch announced from the door, getting yours and his attention. Hotch, Tara, Rossi, and Derek (who was holding Garcia up on facetime) were waiting in the hall. You nodded in stride. 

“Oh, can’t forget about that. Is that all? Nothing much to worry about then.” You halfway shrugged, but threw a glance to Spencer and squeezed his hand as if to silently promise him, I’m ok. 

He just smiled, raising your hand to his lips to press a sweet kiss to your knuckle. Your cheeks reddened, Spencer had never been one for PDA especially in front of the team, so he must have been really worried.  

“Derek Morgan, if you don’t hand me to (Y/N) right now, I’m going to scream!” Garcia demanded, bringing your attention back to the team waiting in the door. You sent Spencer another smile before receiving the phone and tuckering in for a long, classic, Garcia ‘i was so worried’ speech. 

_______

After an hour of visiting with the team, Hotch decided it was time to let you get your rest. Derek ruffled your hair and teased you on his way out, while Tara only told you to feel better soon (you weren’t offended, Tara seemed lovely, you just weren’t near as close to her yet). As they filed out, Hotch poked his head back in the room. 

“We’re needed back at Quantico, but you won’t be cleared for air travel for some time. I contacted JJ, and she’s ready to come in. Once you’re discharged from the hospital, you’ll have to drive back. Reid, if you want it, you’ve already been approved some days off if you’d like to stay here as well.” He paused to smile, “Thanks again for everything you’ve done for the BAU. It’s been a pleasure working with you, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” 

This time, Spencer’s cheeks turned red as he nodded, only blushing more when Rossi winked as he left, throwing a last remark over his shoulder, “Feel free to take the scenic route, lovebirds.”

With the rest of the team gone, it was quiet, but you didn’t mind. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a bit until Spencer spoke back up, “As much as I loved having you at the BAU, it’ll be nice to not be so worried about you all the time.”

“Yeah, there’s only room for one person getting shot at in this relationship, besides I miss my students.” You giggled, leaning back against the criminally uncomfortable pillows, “Just keep in mind that I feel that worried about you all the time.”

You hummed as he pressed another sweet kiss to your forehead before spouting off a long winded mathematical statistic about getting shot. You half-listened, but the complex math was going over your head, so instead, you just thought about having to go back to your old job. You’d miss the BAU, but you had plenty of stories to tell your students. 

Scooting over as far as you could, you patted the newly empty space beside you. Spencer looked skeptical, afraid to hurt you, so you used a tiny bit of guilt-tripping with puppy dog eyes and a quiet, “I’ve been shot and I just want to be near you.”

Reluctantly, he climbed into the tiny bed beside you after slipping out of his shoes. You giggled at the sight of his mismatched socks as he gingerly settled in beside you. He tensed as you moved to lay in the crook of his shoulder but having you so close, he couldn’t help just relax. His long arms reached over and picked his book back up, and as he started to read again he absentmindedly played with the ends of your hair. 

“So, what do you think, wanna take the scenic route with me? We just might get lost.” You smiled up at him after his arm finally, tentatively wrapped around you.  First, he glanced at your hand, which had reached up to mess with his fingers and then to meet your eyes. 

“Is that a promise?”  He asked, taking your hand in his, “Because I kind of like the sound of that.”

“Spencer, I’ll always get lost with you.” You promised, deciding against your better judgment to stretch up to kiss him. You didn’t make it all the way to his lips, so you settled on his jaw before he fussed over you to lay back down. 

“Well, now that that’s settled.” You whispered voice strained at the light pain in your abdomen after you settled back into a comfortable position beside him and closing your eyes. “Read to me?” 

“Always.”

[simplyclockwork]

Simplyclockwork Fic Recs

Angst/Hurt & Comfort/Sick Fics

This will be added to as I read more fics.

The Vapor Variant - @88thparallel (CanadaHolm) 

Mature. 72,684 words. 18 chapters.

They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril.

They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear.

Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”

Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods.

Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

kiss me on the mouth & set me free (but please don’t bite) - crysanthemumsies

Explicit. 18,743 words. 6 chapters.

Five times John got drunk and slept with Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock got drunk and couldn't do the same.

Control, Alt, Delete - MirithGriffin 

Explicit. 75,196 words. 28 chapters.

If you could delete everything except what was really important, would you? Sherlock and John explore the question and each other.

Lacuna - coloredink

Explicit. 15,607 words. One-shot.

God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

Second Waltz - Atiki

Teen and up. 6,685 words. One-shot.

"The night I died, you wished I could wait for you."

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street - @earlgreytea68

Mature. 10,388 words. 2 chapters.

In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

Warm Me Up - halloa_what_is_this

General audiences. 5,357 words. One-shot.

For days, it’s like living with a sick toddler craving for attention and entertainment. Sherlock stays close to John the whole time, climbs on top of him or next to him every time he sits or lies down and sleeps with his head buried in his stomach every night.

This Time No (Forgiveness) - AtlinMerrick

Explict. 29,464 words. 11 chapters.

It was Sherlock's fault. It usually is. And though he'll ask forgiveness for what he's done, for the very first time John will say, 'This time no, Sherlock. This time, never.' And maybe, just maybe, John Watson is going to mean it.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade - BeautifulFiction (@the-pen-pot)

Explicit. 67,718 words. 13 chapters.

"If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse." Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

Already Gone - @annecumberbatch

Explicit. 3,649 words. 7 chapters.

“Sherlock…” John smoothed Sherlock’s shirt out over his chest. “I’m not a good man. I’m not.” “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, John.” Sherlock shifted his hands to hold onto John’s shoulders. “I think you give me too much.” “John…” Sherlock ducked his head towards John and stopped, hovering above John’s lips. “Please. Kiss me again.”

Emails from the War Zone - trajektoria

Mature. 1,872 words. One-shot.

John returns to Afghanistan for a month to be an army doctor once again and Sherlock is left alone in the flat. The only contact the men have with each other is via emails. Sometimes it's easier to write something than to tell it face-to-face...

carrying up his morning tea - darcylindbergh

Explicit. 34,504 words. 5 chapters.

His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands - @jbaillier

Teen and up. 67,085 words. 17 chapters.

John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Alone on the Water - Mad_Lori

General Audiences. 7,725 words. One-shot.

Sherlock Holmes never expected to live a long life, but he never imagined that it would end like this.

Simplyclockwork note: This fic has Major Character Death in it.

The Wisteria Tree - SilentAuror (@silentauroriamthereal)

Explicit. 29,773 words. One-shot.

Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Without Words - allonsys_girl 

Explicit. 12,492 words. One-shot.

John and Sherlock have been together for six months and Sherlock still hasn't said "I love you". Then John gets hurt, and Sherlock expresses how much John really means to him.

When a Man is Wrong - plantsareneat

Mature. 70,000+ words. Incomplete.

After the events of The Lying Detective, John and Sherlock attempt to rebuild their friendship, and John struggles with life as a single father. He discovers he is not fully in control of his anger and behavior, and spirals into depression. Follows John through this dark period, and through the healing process he needs to make both for himself and for Sherlock, who has stood by him throughout.

Author Note: *Trigger Warning: pretty graphic depiction of deep depression and suicidal thoughts, including a (non-successful) attempt. Later part of the story follows a hospitalization and healing process coupled with developing/realized romance. Please take care of yourself, dear reader; if this subject is triggering for you, choose another story!

Simplyclockwork note: incomplete but still actively being worked on I believe, very worth the read even unfinished.

Open Your Eyes - @annecumberbatch

Mature. 4,385 words. 6 chapters.

Sometimes you don't know what you could have had until you lose it.

Winner of the Fall 2019 #keepjohnlockalivecompetition by sherlockswolmes on Tumblr

The Heart in the Whole - verityburns (@verity-burns)

Explicit. 101,650 words. 21 chapters.

Events after 'The Great Game' leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own...

The Emergency Contact Series - blueink3

Mature. 11,763 words. 2 works.

The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job.

Rebuilding Rome - SilentAuror (@silentauroriamthereal)

Explicit. 94,000 words. 15 chapters.

When a case unexpectedly forces John to acknowledge some difficult truths about himself and his life, he spirals downward, leaving Sherlock to do his best to rescue him from his own darkness and somehow try to build something new on broken foundations.

Radioactive Trees in a Red Forest - Maribor_Petrichor

Explicit. 280,226 words. 73 chapters.

John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on.

John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go.

"It is what it is."

John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear.

This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

Sink Like a Stone - pennydreadful 

Teen and Up. 4,348 words. One-shot.

After defeating Moriarty at the pool, life isn't quite the same around 221B Baker Street...it's more peaceful. And stranger.

Dissolution: Our Plague Days - PoppyAlexander (@fuckyeahfightlock)

Teen and up. 6,663 words. One-shot.

The bees have been dying for years. A mysterious pandemic has the people of Great Britain quarantined and terrified. Sherlock's solved it; now John must save them.

Evidence of Human Life - thesardine

Explicit. 16,906 words. One-shot.

Sherlock's sanity deteriorates while he and John are stranded on a deserted island.

If you’re one of the authors listed here and have a Tumblr, and would like me to link it (if I haven’t already), please let me know!

[pog-through-the-suffering]

ive . never made an original post on this blog besides being completely head full of thoughts regarding the dream smp these past months so, 🎉here’s to my first og post

The Traitor!!!

(yeah i know it's already been a day and none of this stuff is new hsjfhj just let me be a drama queen that really likes analysing characters)

can i just say before i get into it that i love the descent into pretty much grey morality for most of the "characters" involved in the smp. like. pretty much nobody is morally correct! other than niki nihachu because niki can do no wrong :) also i'll be referring to the characters... of these people? and not who they are

now, i've got a couple people that i think are traitors and i'll explain them a little further down but here's some things i noted when i was watching the vod that might be interesting owo

dream says, quote, "[you] may have traitors in your ranks" which,

could be a double jebait; he knows there's a traitor but he wants to sound like it's up in the air

there really is no traitor and this is just a ruse to get pogtopia to implode on itself

the traitor still hasn't made up their mind on whether or not they will betray pogtopia

and i think the last one is the most interesting, at least from a semi-meta perspective, to have a traitor that's not fully into the role and doesn't decide until last minute. idk, something about the angst really fuels me :)

either way, here's my predictions on who could be the traitor ranked (more or less) most compelling to least compelling, and i'm not accounting for realism because... this is my tumblr post and i get to pick how i order things :) i'm hiding the (long) analysis in read more because... i just realized how much i have to say and i am Not concise.

tl;dr

tubbo, while unrealistic, makes for an interesting twist and, for angst reasons, would also be cool to write about if he betrays pogtopia

similar to tubbo, tommy betraying is unrealistic, but for angst reasons would also be cool

technoblade is kind of obvious, but the continuity (if he’s the traitor) would make me pretty happy.

wilbur soot would be a little null, since he’s already planning on blowing everything to smithereens either way, but would be another step in his spiral downwards (jeez how far can this guy go) so i’m not mad.

georgenotfound would not be super surprising per say but would continue with his general characterization as an arbiter of chaos (i’ll maybe elaborate in a different post) it would be :)

badlands folks would... not be surprising. they never formally aligned with pogtopia, and aside from sam never really... offered their help? concretely, at least.

fundy already used up his secret traitor card.

same with eret, i love her, but his betrayal wouldn’t be super impactful. plus, they’re more aligned with badlands?

niki nihachu... i said i won’t care about realism but i sincerely cannot in canon imagine this. but if she did... oh the angst would be *chef’s kiss*

hbomb, ponk, purpled, itsalyssa, punz, other people? they never really were involved with this season aside from like,,, maybe helping schlatt hunt down tommy and wilbur right at the beginning. so the betrayal wouldn’t. matter.

tubbo - look, ik i said i don't care about realism, but the chances of this actually happening are... pretty slim. i love tubbo. i support tubbo. but they... like, the confused "no?" when he first came on VC with tommy makes me think it probably won't be him, unless they're really that good at acting. which, i mean, i guess would make for a fantastic surprise. but there's something deeply compelling about this kid, who largely has been relegated to third in command/less important than his friend, and who has been treated like a work horse a lot of the time (being asked to farm netherite for this upcoming war, being forced to decorate what ended up being his fucking funeral, otherwise grinding for shit in the earliest war only for it to get ruined by dteam), fucking snapping. plus, it's not like tubbo hasn't demonstrated his penchance towards chaos. also, i think there's something to be said about the lingering effects of manipulative authority/paternal figures and how that would manifest in tubbo, but that's a post for another day.

tommy - okay, yeah, maybe i just like kids my age popping the fuck off because of terrible parental figures, but shhhhhh. for real though, i think it would be really interesting for the person who up to this point has largely been the moral compass or otherwise the hero of the smp. for him to turn out to have always been as bad as the "villains" he's fighting... i dunno. also, something about him betraying because he's so fucking done with the people who are supposed to protect and lead him? mghhghh. but i like this probably mostly for the pop off factor LOL

technoblade - i mean... this one's a little obvious innit? i'm not mad at this, for sure, because techno's always made it clear he is ultimately here for chaos and anarchy. plus, i'll be able to stew in the dynamics of dream and techno fucking the server up LOL. all that aside, if techno turns out to be the villain i will be happy about the (now) fired chekhov's gun. like, i appreciate the continuity between "schlatt suggests techno is a pogtopia spy when he joins" to "techno admits he's just an anarchist" to techno's accidental or forced, depending on how you read it, betrayal of pogtopia by killing tubbo, and it all culminating in techno's final betrayal. while not the most surprising, it would be narratively fitting. and that's always nice isn't it? when things end with a nice bow on top-

speaking of nice bows on top, wilbur soot! i mean,,, as the man has said himself, there's really nothing more he can do to betray (if not pogtopia) tommy's values. the bitch wants to blow up manberg! and that's super fucking sexy. i love his corruption arc, it's *chef's kiss.* so... is he gonna be the traitor? probably not. but something about being driven to the very brink, that you've got nothing else even after you want to destroy it all that you seek out your former mortal enemy to cause even more pain and destruction... very compelling, very nice.

speaking of brunet british twinks,,, georgenotfound. even if george wasn't really on the smp or never formally betrayed manberg, i think they kind of accepted that he's on their side. and while this wouldn't necessarily a surprising twist, this would continue with dteam's (accidental?) characterization of themselves as arbiters of chaos. maybe i'll write a whole nother post about that, stay tuned :)

any of the badlands people - i mean... i love them. i love what they stand for. but they never really aligned with pogtopia, did they? so one of them, any of them, except maybe sam, would make for a pretty weak sauce twist. like, perhaps with skeppy? and it continuing the trend of enemy between tommy and skeppy? but really the most compelling is sam in that he agreed to help tommy but as a final reveal he doesn't join tommy's side when tommy does whatever with the creeper head.

as for weak sauce twists, fundy being the traitor would be pretty fuckin' weak. i'm sorry! he already used his secret traitor card, and everyone knows, once you've used it once you can never (until the next season) use it again.

other characters on the smp... yeah, i love eret! i love her! he's fucking fantastic! their gay castle? best fucking build! but like i said, already used secret traitor card. plus, she's part of badlands, so i don't think his betrayal would be surprising. and niki nihachu,,, i know i said i wouldn't care about realism, but i honest to god cannot imagine her being the traitor. i guess if she was there'd be some nice angst about her realizing that everything is shit, no matter where you turn, pogtopia's being run by a fanatical JD, manberg's run by a dictatorial senile goat man, badlands isn't even strong enough to have its own territory. so, what can a woman do when she has nothing left to lose? but for real, within canon it just... wouldn't really make sense to me. hbomb hasn't been involved in the plot, punz + ponk + purpled + alyssa + others haven't really been involved in the plot aside from. like chasing down tommy and wilbur that one time.

and... yeah! those are my thoughts :)

[teeentyonepilots]

There’s a lot to unpack here and I don’t know how much I am capable of bringing myself to say.

I have just finished 3 twelve hour shifts in a row on a COVID unit. I spent Easter taking care of people who are sick because the world waited too long in implementing the safeguards we needed to prevent this pandemic from happening— exposing what is flawed and broken in our healthcare system. There’s much more I could say on this, but again... I have spent many, many hours doing direct patient care for several days with little rest. I don’t feel like writing an essay.

What is immensely disheartening, as someone who took inspiration and hope from twenty one pilots and Level of Concern, is to see them breaking quarantine as I’m breaking my back on the frontlines. First it’s Jenna getting her hair braided for the video (the pressure injuries on my ears and face say hello. I’ve been looking like crap for well over a month), and now it’s the whole Joseph family violating social distancing by gathering for Easter. (And don’t tell me it’s a closed loop... his sister went to a completely different party before theirs, thereby transmitting exposure between around 10-20 people)

I don’t care how much people think they’ve been social distancing... because it’s probably not enough. All non-essential contact... all gatherings... all of that is to be cancelled. All of it. I won’t belabor the point because the information is out there, repeated endlessly by reputable sources. Many people are asymptomatic and therefore transmitting it to the most vulnerable. But also younger/healthy people are getting VERY SICK and even dying. Not to mention the long term effects we don’t even know about (like lung damage, which would be terrible for a singer, huh).

I have seen and heard so much that I don’t know what the long term effects will be on myself and my peers. We are at war and if we survive, it is going to be a painful and emotional road to recovery. We are watching so many people die. I did CPR this weekend. That’s how I celebrated this holiday weekend.

Not only am I a nurse taking care of COVID patients, but I am also a month away from getting my masters in epidemiology. I have studied epidemics for years. I know what I am talking about.

So this is all immensely, immensely disappointing that Tyler, who I considered to be an intelligent person, put his selfish desires to see his family before the health and well-being of everyone else in the world. Because that’s what it comes down to. Someone who has as large of a reach as him is not allowed to be a bad example because if everyone else thinks the same way, more and more people get sick and die.

I cannot make excuses for him when I was breaking my back on the same day, away from my own family, wondering if I will ever get to hug them again. Because I know I am exposed, and it’s just a matter of waiting before I see if I get sick, and another roll of dice to see how sick that would be. My people, my fellow healthcare workers are getting sick and dying because we’re getting exposed day after day. There’s already so many things working against us, the least everyone can do is stay home.

If everyone could walk a day in our shoes, you would understand why and just stay happily at home. The things I have seen. My body and soul aches and it hurts knowing someone I respected completely missed the point... and Level of Concern feels almost like a performative cash grab. Maybe I’m spiraling downward, but this fucking sucks, man. Twenty one pilots was my escape for bad days... the shows were a goal for me to survive to... I’m just plugging along and doing my thing, but it all feels really hollow that Tyler behaved like that.

[elyreywrites]

so tell me what you want to hear

a gift for @bionerd2point0 for the Capes & Coffee Discord server’s gift exchange!! a huge thank you to my betas for this fic: Oceans and Tasteofpaint!!

title is from One Republic’s “Secrets”!

please REBLOG - DO NOT REPOST

AO3 Link

Teen 3,714 words Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Summary:

And here Tim was, about to ask his goddamn crush to be his fake boyfriend.

He couldn’t do this, he absolutely, positively, could not—

This was a huge mistake.

- - - - -

Tim stared at the phone, at the contact pulled up, and wished for some sign to either call or suffer through the whole situation. He could suffer through it, but… Tim was fed up with being asked the same question every time he was out in public.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Who are you dating?”

“Is there anyone special in your life right now?”

Ever since he turned eighteen, the vicious sharks that made up the press were desperate for the details of his romantic life. Bruce had said it would blow over soon enough, once some new sensational story came about, but four months later they were still going strong. Tim was at the end of his rope with them.

There were only so many times he could say, “No comment.” It hadn’t made any difference at all in four months. Apparently, being the youngest CEO in history and of such a huge company made him very eligible. While the chatter had calmed down a bit over time, it was still present enough that something had to be done. Something drastic.

Something he was dreading.

All he needed for a few weeks was a fake date, a partner that would get the vultures off his back. It had to be someone he knew because it had to seem authentic. That was a short list though. Dick wasn’t an option. Kon, Bart, and Cassie were all out because they were all busy and they’d have to be in Gotham. Stephanie and Tam were just… no. He wasn’t doing that. That really only left the first and last person Tim would ever want to pick.

Jason.

Once upon a time, Jason had been his Robin, his hero, the person he wanted to make proud almost as much as his parents. The hero-worship had died when Tim nearly did. Tim’s crush did too, but that didn’t stay gone. It took a few years, Jason apologizing, and the Reds working a few cases together, but it returned with a vengeance.

And here he was, about to ask his goddamn crush to be his fake boyfriend. Tim would be lucky if this didn’t break the shaky… truce? Friendship? Whatever it was they had. Tim would like to call them friends, but did Jason think they were friends? Oh god, Jason probably didn’t think they were friends.

He couldn’t do this, he absolutely, positively, could not—

The soft chime of his phone’s reminder tone broke him out of the downward spiral of his thoughts. The notification popped up, dragging his attention from Jason’s contact. Right, he was supposed to appear on some talk show tomorrow. Youngest and most eligible CEO and all. He just knew they’d try to pry into his love life.

Tim had to do this. Before he could rethink it, he pressed dial. At the first ring, he almost panicked and chucked it across the room instinctively. This was a terrible idea, but it was the lesser of the two evils. He was just about ready to snap and really tear into the press. Physically, verbally, he wasn’t even sure at this point.

Jason answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Timbo? You don’t call very often.”

This was a huge mistake.

“I need you to do me a big favor.”

“That depends,” Jason drawled, “on what the favor is.”

Wincing, Tim said in a rush, “I need you to be my fake boyfriend for a little while so the press will stop hounding me for details on a love life I don’t have.”

Silence. Every moment without a response made it harder for Tim to breathe. He had fucked up, he had fucked up, abort, abort—

Jason snorted. “You know, I was wondering how you were holding up with that. I’ve seen the news about it. Guess this answers my question, huh?”

“Guess it does. Any chance you could answer mine?” Nerves and stress made him snarky, okay? The past few months were rough, Tim thought he could be forgiven.

“Yeah, Timmy, I can help you get them out of your hair for a little while,” Jason said. “Alright, do you want to figure out our epic love story right now, or is there something you need to do?”

Tim sighed, relaxing bonelessly into the couch. “Now please. I have to be on some morning talk show tomorrow, and they’re going to ask.”

The next hour and a half, Tim swung wildly between excitement over getting to date his crush and hopeless misery that it was fake. They both gave the okay for holding hands, going on dates, even kissing to sell this charade. He would get to do all of that with Jason, which kind of made him want to bury his face in a pillow and scream like a complete cliche. As soon as they were out of the public eye, though? There wouldn’t be anyone to pretend for. All bets would be off.

The next few months were going to be amazing and terrible all at once.

Tim didn’t sleep much that night.

- - - - -

This was absolutely a mistake and Tim should have just suffered through the continual questioning about his non-existent love life. What the hell had he been thinking?! Sleep-Deprived Tim made terrible choices, honestly. Sure, he could totally fake-date his sort of long-time crush! That wouldn’t end in disaster and heartbreak at all ! 

Real and fake heartbreak, even, because they had a messy break-up planned. It was going to happen in two months in public, and he would cry – that probably wouldn’t be fake – and the press would hopefully feel sorry enough for him to not pester him about romance for a while.

Tim was absolutely doomed. He literally set himself up for failure.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne?”

Tim startled, staring at the assistant that had called his name.

“You go on in 5 minutes,” the assistant said.

This whole situation was messing him up. He was usually more aware of his surroundings, but he kept getting lost in thought because he was fake-dating his crush and one-time hero. Oh god.

Focus. Talk show. They’ll inevitably ask, and then he has to get to work on selling this whole… thing.

He heard clapping and then the assistant gave him a nod. “That’s your cue,” they said. Tim walked out, his CEO-Drake Heir smile firmly in place.

To his surprise, the host, a woman in her mid-thirties, stayed on script and didn’t ask if he was dating anyone until halfway through the show. When the question did come, Tim coughed and glanced away. The flush on his face wasn’t fake because for a couple months everyone would think that someone like Jason would date Tim, of all people. Jason Todd was legally dead, but he was handsome and kind and he would publicly be dating Tim. No, his blushing was very real, but that only worked to help sell the act even more. 

“Oh,” the host teased, “that look says you are. Who’s the lucky lady? Or maybe you haven’t asked her out yet?”

His head snapped towards her with a very real scowl on his face. “He and I only started dating recently. It’s still pretty new, and I’m not willing to share more at this time. We would like to figure out our relationship before we face the scrutiny of the public.”

He almost smirked at her stiffly pleasant smile. She was trying to hide her shock, and to the inexperienced eye, she succeeded. However, Tim was a detective on a different level altogether. Plus, with Cass for a sister, he was bound to pick up something from the master of reading body language and expressions.

“‘He’, huh?” she said cheerfully for the camera. “That’s quite a surprise – you’ve had multiple girlfriends in the past.”

Tim hummed, “Yes, I’m bisexual, though I recently realized that I lean more towards men than women. See, something a lot of people don’t understand is that it’s like a scale and everyone has their own preferences. It took me a long time to come to terms with that because of the heteronormativity in our society and the compulsory heterosexuality that many of us in the LGBTQ+ community have to work through.” He smiled back at her, projecting as much innocence as he could as he derailed her interview.

“Ah. Congratulations on finding yourself, then,” the host grinned. Tim saw the panic in her eyes. Her interview with the young, eligible CEO had gone in an unexpected direction and she had no idea what to do.

Meanwhile, he was having the time of his life, and he was fairly sure Jason would be howling when he watched it. If Tim had to suffer through pretending to date Jason, he was going to enjoy any suffering others went through along the way. This woman was the first.

Tim sure as hell wasn’t going to regret coming out very publicly and speaking out about some of the problems in their society. He wasn’t even worried that much about how this would affect Wayne Enterprises – Bruce would back him up. He’d probably even be proud of Tim.

The rest of the show went very smoothly. All personal questions disappeared completely as the host stuck to discussing the various community projects that Wayne Enterprises had. It was rather frustrating that it took a fake-boyfriend and shocking the host of a morning talk show to actually be asked about his work, though.

- - - - -

His phone was blowing up with notifications by the time he was free from the cameras. Oh the joys of a live show and a family that either really supported him or wanted to find something to taunt him about – it was difficult to tell. All he knew was that Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Stephanie, and Cass usually tried to watch any time he appeared on TV. Which meant they all heard that he had a boyfriend, and he was about to be pestered to the ends of the earth.

He sighed but accepted the call coming in. “Hey Dick,” he greeted, projecting as much innocence as he could into his voice. It worked a lot better when he was younger and happier. Now he was a bit too tired and jaded to sell it.

“Timmy! I just wanted to check in,” Dick said pointedly. “You know, see if there’s anything new in your life. Maybe something you neglected to tell me?”

Humming, Tim pretended to think it over. “Nope, can’t think of anything,” he said finally as he continued to his car and climbed in.

On the other end of the line there was a quiet squawk and a scuffling sound, then a click. “Tim,” Bruce cut in and oh, he was definitely on speaker now. That meant they were ganging up on him, instead of letting him deal with them one by one. “You have a boyfriend.”

Tim didn’t answer – it hadn’t been a question, after all.

“Master Timothy, I do believe all of us feel hurt that you neglected to inform us of this development,” Alfred reprimanded.

Oh shit, now Alfred was in on this. Dammit, he really preferred dealing with them one at a time. “Alfred, it’s… complicated, but I promise that it’s a very new development! I haven’t been hiding it for days or anything, I swear. How about I come to the manor for lunch today and I’ll explain?”

“Very good Master Timothy,” Alfred sniffed. “I shall set out a place setting for you.”

Alfred hung up the phone, cutting off Dick and Bruce’s protesting.

Tim stared at his phone for a second and then hurried home. He needed to talk to Jason. He also needed to grab something for the inevitable headache. Any lunch with the whole family resulted in a headache, but at least this one might prove somewhat entertaining as well.

Tim collapsed carelessly across his couch, and dug his phone out of his pocket. With a resigned sigh, he dialed Jason.

When he picked up, Tim didn’t bother offering or waiting for a greeting. “You have to come to the manor for lunch.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then, Jason asked, “Why the hell should I do that?”

Tim groaned and sunk deeper into his couch. “Bruce, Dick, and Alfred watched the talk show this morning—” Tim waited for Jason to stop snickering. So he did watch it then. At least he enjoyed it, apparently. “Yeah. They weren’t happy that they hadn’t been informed. It was fine when it was just Bruce and Dick, but then Alfred spoke up. Jay, he used the Disappointed In You voice. I had to say something!”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed, “that would do it. So, what did you say? That it’s fake or that we’re dating? Or both.”

“I said it was complicated and very recent.” Tim smirked and added, “I also said I would go to the manor for lunch and explain. If you come with me, you can see Dick and Bruce’s reactions first-hand and we can troll them a little more. Alfred will get the truth out of us pretty quick, but we can have some fun with this before he does.”

“You sneaky bastard.” He knew Jason well enough that he could almost feel Jason’s glare. “Alright fine, you little shit. I’ll be there for lunch so we can mess with those fuckers.”

Tim refrained from cheering – that would only make Jason change his mind. Well, he didn’t cheer out loud. Cheering internally was perfectly acceptable. Though this was going to be his first test at acting like Jason’s boyfriend for a little while. Why did Tim keep putting himself in these situations?

“Alright, see you there,” he said before hanging up. Tim hauled himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Coffee was imperative and he still needed to grab some medicine. After today, he’d know for sure whether fake-dating Jason would be amazing or painful.

An hour later, Jason was just climbing off his motorcycle when Tim pulled up to the manor. He waited for Tim to climb off his own bike and then murmured, “How do we want to do this?”

Tim paused. “What are you comfortable with?”

“I can put my arm around your shoulders, if you’re cool with that?” he offered. “Feel free to wrap your arm around my waist.”

Snickering, Tim walked over close enough for Jason to get his arm around him, and Jason pulled him into his side. He tried not to lean into the warmth, but if Jason did notice, hopefully Tim could pass it off as his usual touch-starvation.

Trolling Dick and Bruce was going to be hilarious.

Dick threw open the door just as they were walking up. When he did, his hands were on his hips and he looked ready to scold Tim for all his secret-keeping – something that never went over well in a family of detectives. Then it registered what he was seeing and the only way Tim could describe it was that Dick blue-screened. His face went blank and Tim could almost see an error message pop up.

Dick.exe has stopped working.

“Hey Dick,” Tim said casually, jumping right into it, “Jason’s my boyfriend.” As soon as he said it, he wondered if this was really the best plan. Jason was definitely on better terms with the family now, but there was still a chance that they’d react badly, and that might hurt Jason because as much as he tried to hide it, he still wanted their approval at times and oh god—

Dick grinned, and just – what? Yeah, Tim was glad that this was apparently being received well, but that… wasn’t the response he was expecting. At all. He was expecting shock, stuttering and stumbling and confusion ! Not… this.

“Finally!” Dick burst out. “Oh my god, we’ve all been waiting for you two to get together for ages! I guess this means Bruce wins the bet, then.” He mock-scowled at them. “Really, you two? You couldn’t have waited until one of you was in danger and then confessed? Or is that what happened? Oh my god, if that happened and none of us heard about one of you being in serious danger then the lecture on keeping secrets is going to be so much worse.”

“What.” Jason said.

Tim, however, was well on his way to panicking and fleeing Gotham entirely. Apparently, everyone else had picked up on his crush. Okay, sure, he wasn’t really surprised Dick knew after all the times he gushed about Jason to Dick, but enough people for a betting pool? How did everyone else find out? He’d been subtle! Of all the possible ways this could end terribly that had run through his head, he never thought Jason would find out because Dick couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Dick shrugged, “Yeah, we were betting on you two. I’m not sure why you’re so surprised. I mean, really, after all the other bets we make? I’m just glad you two finally got your shit together.”

He huffed, looking reproachfully at Jason. “Little Wing, I love you, but if I had to listen to one more phone call about how much you wish you had never attacked Tim because he’s wonderful and amazing and he didn’t deserve what you did to him – I was going to scream. And Tim, Baby Bird…” Dick looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “I really don’t need to listen to another twenty minute rant about how incredible Jay is and how you’re so happy he’s doing better now. I mean, you two were ridiculous. Bruce had to listen to me whine about it.”

Tim.exe has stopped working, Tim thought, trying to process all of that with his brain moving at a snail’s pace. Because it sounded like Jason liked him too, but that – that couldn’t possibly be right. There was absolutely no way his feelings were reciprocated. Tim risked a glance at Jason, half-terrified of what he’d see, but Jason didn’t seem confused or disgusted or anything like that. No, he was just as utterly gobsmacked as Tim was, but that didn’t mean he felt the same.

“Man, you have no idea how heartbroken I was when I thought you had started dating someone else,” Dick continued, oblivious to their reactions. “I knew you thought Jason probably thought you were an annoying pest at best, so I thought you’d given up and started dating someone new. Meanwhile, Jason was absolutely convinced that you couldn’t like him after the whole Pit Madness thing. But I am so glad you two worked it all out!”

“We’re fake-dating to get the press off my back,” Tim blurted.

Jason’s head snapped to look at Tim. “You think that I think you’re an annoying pest?”

“Okay , so uh,” Dick rocked back on his heels, “it looks like you two have some things to discuss. I’m just… going to go inside now. Lunch will be ready in ten minutes, so try to have it sorted by then? Come in once you do. Uh. Good luck?” He slipped inside and closed the door.

Tim stared at the closed door, trying not to stare at his… at Jason. Oh god. What even were they now? He was still pressed up against Jason’s side. Why was he pressed up against Jason’s side? He really should not be—

As Tim tried to slide his hand away, the arm wrapped around his shoulders tightened, holding him in place. Then, Jason was in front of him, tucking Tim’s face into his chest and resting his chin on top of Tim’s head. Tim would forever deny that he squeaked.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re an annoying pest at all. The Demon Brat, sure, but I think you’re actually pretty fucking incredible,” Jason said.

“Oh,” Tim whispered. “I think you’re really awesome too. And I forgave you a while ago for what happened while you were still dealing with the Pit Madness. I promise I don’t hold it against you.”

“I don’t deserve that, Baby Bird. I tried to kill you, multiple times. I know for a fact that you’ve got scars from my attempts, so why would you—”

“That wasn’t you,” Tim cut in firmly, dislodging Jason to glare up at him. “That wasn’t you acting as yourself. I mean, it was the Pit influencing you and twisting things. Then on top of that, you were dealing with the trauma of dying and digging yourself out of your grave! It wasn’t you, Jay, and you’re not like that anymore. You’re so much better now, and I’m so glad because you’re happier. I just like seeing you happy.” Tim’s cheeks burned as he realized what he said. He groaned, hiding his face back against Jason’s chest.

Tim felt Jason’s chuckle. “Shut up,” he muttered.

“I like seeing you happy too,” Jason admitted. “Since Dick spilled everything already, I’ll go ahead and say that I like you, Tim. It’s why I agreed to be your fake-boyfriend. I wasn’t sure whether I was dreading or looking forward to the next couple of months. How would you feel about dating for real?”

Tim pulled away, eyes wide. “Yes, please, oh my god I was so not looking forward to the staged break-up. I was going to actually cry without needing to pretend at all.”

Jason laughed louder that time. “I would have probably held it together until I got back to my apartment. I already decided that I was going to be eating a lot more ice cream.” Tim tried to bury his grin in Jason’s chest, but Jason huffed and pulled back. “As fucking adorable as that is, didn’t I just say that I liked seeing you happy? Come on, don’t hide that pretty smile from me.”

“Oh my god, stop. We’re about to have lunch with our entire family, can you please not make me look like a tomato,” he groaned.

“Alright, alright, I’ll lay off for now. Let’s get inside, Baby Bird.”

“How much do you want to bet that they’ve been watching us through the windows?” Tim grumbled.

Jason shook his head as he started leading him towards the door. “I’m sure as fuck not taking that bet.”

[gemstoneconstellations]

Going Steady

Summary: You struggle to move forward in your relationship with Iida, if only someone would say something...

Wordcount: 2283

A/N: All my Iida stories I’ve written so far have been based on my husband and my love story. He is exactly like Iida (with Midoriya Anxiety™) down to the hand gestures, he doesn't even realize he does it sometimes. So this is based on a true story, I’m still mad at him for doing this.

Nearly everyday, Iida would walk you home after work. Even if he was on patrol, his route would conveniently pass by your house. “Since we are both going in the same direction, we should walk together.” 

You would bite your lip to try and hold back the big smile forming on your face every time he showed up. The whole way home, the two of you would talk about everything and anything. You can’t even remember half of conversations you had. 

The excitement of going home for the day was no longer about the idea of wearing PJs and relaxing on your couch while watching terrible but oddly good dramas; it was about spending time with Iida. Sometimes you wouldn’t step into your apartment building for at least an hour. The two of you would sit on a bench, simply talking.

“Iida and I stopped at this dessert place yesterday to pick out a cake for his mother’s birthday and they were offering some delicious mochi-covered ice cream balls. You really should go.” 

You were typing away on your computer; the monthly budget summary was coming up and Uraraka was helping you gather all of the property damage reports as you worked on the spreadsheet. 

Uraraka sat down in front of your desk, flipping through paperwork. “Hmm, maybe I will on my day off. But I'm so jealous and happy that Iida is in a relationship.”

Your fingers froze. “Relationship?! With who?” Since when had this happened? He never told you!

“Uh, you?” Uraraka looked at you from behind the stack of paperwork on your desk with a raised eyebrow.

You? No. You wave a hand at her as you shake your head, going back to work. “Oh, no. We’re just really good friends. He doesn't see me like that.” As you typed, you mumble lowly to yourself, “Why do people keep saying that?”

There was a big heavy sigh from Uraraka. “Because it looks like the two of you are dating? You guys hang out every day; I see you two having lunch. And then he walks you home. He’s all you ever talk about.”

“I don’t talk about him that much…,” you pouted.

Holding up a hand, Uraraka started to list off more examples. “If you do anything it’s always ‘Iida and I’ or ‘I did this and Iida said’. Iida, Iida, Iida. You guys are practically glued to each other. Just date already.” She paused to smirk at you as she stood up to stretch. “Anyone can see the way the two of you look at each other and can tell there is something between you too. If you like him, go for it.”

Okay, yeah, you can see it.  Doesn’t mean you liked someone pointing it out to you to your face. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “I don’t want to hear this coming from you. Starting to think you have a thing for people with green hair.”

“Shut up!” You snicker as the heroine ran out of your office, blushing. 

You met with Iida after work just like every other day; the two of you walked beside each other in comfortable silence. Your mind couldn't help but begin to wander….

Damn you, Uraraka; now the thought is stuck in your head. Of course you would sometimes think about Iida in…that way. Okay, so maybe you would daydream about what it would be like to be called his girlfriend or get married or how many kids you would have (you want three and already have a list of possible names). So what if you were tempted to grab ahold of his hand while the two of you walked and how tantalizingly close his big, calloused hands would sway near you, sometimes brushing against yours. Maybe the image of kissing him goodnight every time he walks you to your door would cross your mind for a brief second before going into your home.

“Midoriya is in the hospital.” You were knocked out of your downward spiral of thoughts when Iida said the hero’s, or the walking-medical-bill as you liked to call him, name.

You giggled openly, imagining Deku in another cast. You wonder what he did this time. “Again?”

“Yes. Bakugo was screaming about it the entire time while in the waiting room, scaring the staff. Kirishima had to come help sedate him.” Of course; that’s so Ground Zero. The conversation continued to go on about all the antics that Iida has had to unfortunately witness over the years at UA with the same aforementioned three heroes, and Todoroki.

But you guys were interrupted by a sweet, elderly woman who was walking by. “Aw, it’s so nice to see you two walk home together. Such a nice young couple.”

Your throat tightened up; you didn’t know what to say. “Ah, I uh um….” Your tongue was completely tied. Luckily, Iida was able to say something. He quickly bowed to the woman respectfully as he spoke. 

“Thank you ma’am for your kind words. But we are not in the kind of relationship that you are insinuating. Have a nice night, ma’am.” The two of you continued walking in silence; the conversation long forgotten.

“Hey, Iida?” You glanced at the bespectacled hero, biting the side of your lower lip as you waited for his attention to turn to you. “Do you ever think about…us…in that kind of relationship? I mean, that’s not the first time someone has thought we were a couple, so...”

“Oh.” He stops in front of your building, avoiding your eyes and clearing his throat against a closed fist. “I…ahem....sometimes I do.”

“Really?” You covered your face with your hands, cheeks warm and a giddy smile spreading on your face. “Me too…”

You heard him cough a few times. “Well, that’s a relief.” 

You peeked at him through your fingers; he was blushing as much as you were. Before you could ask any more questions, his phone began to beep. “I need to go; Ingenium is being called about a situation. Goodnight ___, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved you goodbye before running off.

Entering your home, you leaned against the door, clutching your hands to your chest. Your heart was pounding rapidly. Did you both just confess? You’d both agreed that the two of you thought of each other as more than friends. You kicked off your shoes and coat, throwing yourself on your couch and hugging a pillow to your face as you squeal. Oh god, what’s going to happen tomorrow? What are you going to wear!??!?

For the rest of the night, you were digging through your closet for the perfect outfit, looking up hairstyles on Pinterest, and rehearsing the imaginary conversations you may have with Iida in your head.

But it turned out that all of that amping up was for not. The entire walk home was just like normal. Nothing new. He acted completely normal…did you dream that conversation? Did you get completely caught up in a fantasy? What the hell? Maybe he’s just shy. Okay, you can wait for him to be ready to talk. So you waited for a week. 

And then another week. You’re pouting at your desk at work. For the first time, you refuse an invite to eat lunch with Iida, choosing to eat alone. 

An entire month goes by and Iida is still acting like nothing had happened. That neither of you had admitted to thinking about each other romantically. You groan, stabbing at your sad salad. “What’s got you looking so down?” Cellophane spoke up from your doorway, walking in to hand you a fax. 

“Just looking at Ground Zero damage reports.” It’s not entirely lie; this month was abnormally higher than usual.

Sero nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. There was that hostage situation and he kind of just, jumped in. No one was hurt…but the entire building came down. Mind if I eat with you?” He held up a bag from a convenience store. You motioned towards the chair across from you and he sat down, a smile spreading across his face.

It was nice; you don't often hang out with Sero. The conversation was light and new. You wouldn't mind becoming better friends with the tape hero. “I got an extra pudding, do you want it?”

“Sure.” He handed it to you but didn't let go of the sweet dessert when you tried to take it.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled nervously, not making eye contact with you. “So, I was wondering if you would like to have dinner sometime? I wanted to ask before but I thought you were dating Iida; Uraraka told me that you guys weren’t though.” You blinked a few times. Oh. Oh. That caught you off guard. You didn't even have a chance to answer before Sero started walking away. “You don't have to answer right away; just, uh, think about it, yeah?”

You waited for him to be completely gone from your office to send Uraraka a “What the fuck?” text.

Later, as you were leaving work, you see the anti-gravity hero and storm up to her. You were about to give her a piece of your mind about Sero but froze when you saw who she was talking to. 

“___, there you are!” Uraraka greeted you loudly and Iida turned to face you. “I heard from a little bird that someone asked you out today? What did you say?”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “I didn't answer them; he told me to think about it.”

Uraraka dramatically pressed her hands to her plump cheeks and turned to the turbo hero. “Oooh, what do you think Iida? Should she say yes or no?” You rolled your eyes; she’s so obvious...

Iida pondered for a moment, like he was seriously considering what your response should be. “If she really likes him, she should say yes?”

“What?” Both you and Uraraka gaped at him, completely baffled by his response.

He only shrugged as he pushed up his glasses, completely calm. “If you like him, say yes.”

You tried to swallow but your throat had gone dry. “Really? You would be okay with that?”

“If he makes you happy.”

“Really?”

“Yes?” Iida gave your a perplexed look, like he couldn't understand why you were getting upset. It felt like he was pushing you to see other people after you’d admitted to liking him! What the hell?! You were fuming. Instead of standing there listening to how you should date someone else, you stormed away. “Where are you going?”

Not evening turning to face Iida, you yelled back. “Home!” You ran out of the building and headed for home. Stupid Iida! Maybe you will say yes to Sero after all!

“___! Are you okay?” It was kind of silly to think you would be able to outrun Iida, but you still tried, huffing.

“I’m just peachy,” you snapped at him. He didn't say anything else as he followed you; for the first time in a long while, you managed to get home in ten minutes thanks to your anger-fueled speed walking. You stopped in front of your building and whipped your head back at him. Iida stumbled backwards as you glared at him. “Are you really telling me to go on a date with someone?”

Bewildered, he held up his hands in surrender. “Yes? If you want to.”

“But what about...” You take a deep breath and try to bite back the tears. “What about what you said? Did I dream about you telling me you thought of me romantically or did it really not mean anything?” You began to ramble, pacing back and forth.

Iida could only stand idly by, watching you having a small breakdown. “Um…”

“I don’t get you! You say something that makes me think you like me and then you push me to date someone else? Do I not matter enough to you?” 

You sniffle, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands. You were so confused; did you misread his actions? Did you interpret what he said wrong? Is that why he’d said nothing for a month? Are you really just a friend? 

Arms suddenly wrapped around you, stopping your pacing and pressing you into a hard chest. “Of course you matter. I just…don't know how to proceed? Romantic relationships have never been my forté, nor did I think you actually wished to pursue one with me. No one I’ve ever expressed interest in has ever expressed it back to me.”

You looked up at Iida, wiping away the last of your tears. “You’re dumb.”

“Now that’s just plain rude.” Despite his reprimanding you, there was a slight smile on his face.

You press your forehead back into his chest and mumble lowly only for him to hear. “I like you.”

He rests his chin on your head, mumbling back. “I…like you very much as well.” 

“So what do we do now?”

He abruptly pushed you away from him and bowed at a 90-degree angle with a hand extended to you. “___! Please go steady with me!” You blinked at him in shock but then burst out laughing uncontrollably. You held onto your stomach as you hunched over from laughing so hard. Iida looks up from his position, face completely flushed. “Ah! Do not laugh; that is not good for my self-esteem.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just who says ‘go steady’ anymore? Say go out with me like a normal person, not like my grandmother!” You giggle at his pouting face before throwing yourself back into his arms, hugging him again. “Okay, please take care of me!”

“Always.”

[popculturebuffet]

Star Vs: Lava Lake Beach or Happy Birthday, Marco Diaz

Tomtrospective is back baby! It’s been almost two months, which is better than last time but still not great. As you can probably tell if you check this space i’ve been busy with comissions (5 dollars an episode if you were curious and had another star vs episode you wanted me to check out or any animated series really), which now includes a sizeable project, regular coverage of ducktales every monday, loud house whenever it comes around becuase nick’s scheduling is a nightmare, and because I apparently didn’t have enough going on The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck. Part 2 coming before the end of the month hopefully. So this project, which sadly dosen’t get a lot of eyeballs on it, kinda just slid on back. Thankfully though I have a second before I get back to my rather sizeable and mostly self inflicted to do list, so with that in mind, let’s take a trip to the beach in the dead of winter. This is Lava Lake Beach. 

PREVIOUSLY ON STAR VS:

Yeah I skipped over Lint Catcher.. which is ironic given I just decided to cover the meteora and eclipsa centric episodes post monster bash.. but I have good reason for that. And it’s not just “This is my blog and unless i’m getting paid for it I can do what I want”. That’s a valid reason but it’s not THE reason. No it’s because Tom has a sizeable roll in the finale episodes for season 3, and thus the climax to Season 3′s arc overall, and honestly Divide and Conquer are just TOO good to simply skip over Star’s parts of them. I choose to switch to covering full episodes for this retrospective which means i’m doing it right. It means more work for me, but frankly this stuff’s too good to not to cover properly. So i’ll be mixing the meteora arc in with tom, like a finely blended cocktail, after this review and the next one.. which aired after monster party but takes place before so i’m doing it in time for christmas. 

And I WILL be covering the two episodes I skipped over eventually, I just feel the first goes into another possible arc down the line, and the other is just really terrible. Not the worst episode of the series, that would be Marco Jr, but a close second or third for sure. But I will have to summarize them to get to this point so: When last we left off Tom and Star were getting close again, but you might of noticed someone was conspciously absent. Marco went back to earth after his two weeks on Mewni, and as to what he was up to we found out LITERALLY the episode after “Demonicism”: Sophmore Slump. Marco basically spent the rest of his summer not shutting up about Mewni like an obnoxious jackass. Yeah Sophmore Slumb begins the character’s downward spiral and basically coming off like two diffrent characters: He’ll either be.. exactly what he was in the first two seasons, an awkard but well meaning voice of reason or a needy jackass pining after someone elses girlfriend and not caring about anyone else but himself and star. There.. there isn’t an inbetween. So yeah it’s just 11 minutes of Marco being insufferable, and only snapping out of it in realizing he’s neglected his girlfriend Jackie. We do get a GENUINELy great scene when she breaks up with him, realizing that while Marco’s willing to try for her.. his heart’s just not in it and his head’s.. with someone else. He’s not even malicious about it: While he wore his cape, he had a cape, under his clothes he genuinely tried to make things work and go out with her. Conciously he genuinely loves her, subconciously he has feeling sfor someone else and it’s showring. While this isn’t hte best episode it’s not a TERRIBLE one on the grounds that this one end sequence makes it work. Marco then decides to go to mewni and become a knight, and everyone sees him off in a good moment. It’s an annoying episode, but not a bad one the more I think about it.  Lint Catcher is. Basically everyone’s a jackass but Tom and Eclipsa, which really sums up the last few seasons nicely. Not basically Marco dind’t you know, call star to vet any of this, and just expects to be welcomed back. Star, rather than you know admit her feelings for marco while she’s now dating tom, more on that in a moment, tries to shove him off on whoever. And it turns out River wasn’t serious with his offer of knighthood that marco came to take him up on, despite sounding serious and just gave marco a meat blanket because again, everyone’s a jackass.. except maybe moon who tries to make it work. It’s just an aggrivating 11 minutes and unlike the above none of it’s intentoinal. But how does this relate to tom? and wait star’s dating tom? Well Tom shows up early on as Star is singing a burrito song, only for him to burst out of the bathroom and then warmly greet Marco before the guards show up. Star also later admits to Marco yup she and Tom are dating since last episode. Which i’m fine with: we don’t need to see everything and it was pretty obvious that’s where it was headed. At the time I was aggrivated because “another blockadef or starco reallY” but i’ve warmed up with time. So yeah I really didn’t need to bang my head into the door for 11 minutes and whatever hours it took to write this to tell you tom and marco have upgraded from kinda friends to best bros who want to make out with each other and Star and Tom are dating. I will probably cover both episodes eventually, but for now, I have enough to cover especially with my realizing I needded to cover the eclipsa and meteora stuff, without getting a head injury from stupdiity. As for Marco’s knight status, he can’t start there, and Star eventualy realized that awkard sexual tension or not, he’s her best friend and made him her squire. So Marco’s now on mewni, Tom and star are together. 

Let’s get at er. We open with tom summoning the flames of the dammned.. FOR MARSHMELLLOWWWWSSS. Star, Tom, Marco and Kelly are at the titular Lava Lake Beach roasting marshmellows and getting ready for the annual soulrise. Star likes the beach because it’s so spooky with Marco rightly pointing out.. insn’t that the underworld’s thing? Tom just casually shrugs it off as “Yeah i’ts pretty metal”. Which is both accurate and is part of why we’re here. This is our first, and really only, good look at the underworld. With Blood Moon Ball we just saw a bubble of it and it was entirely controlled by tom, if helping explain his control issues as he probably spent his whole life getting everything and never realizing being a possesive creep isn’t ag ood thing and people aren’t things you can own, but well.. people with their own wants and wills. When everyone around you does what you want, including your sweet well meaning parents, why would you understand someone saying no? And his parents aren’t bad people, they clearly have boundries, they just spoiled him a bit much. We’re not in Doofus Drake terriotiry where Tom’s a terrifying sociopath, he just had some very bad behaviors and when called on them by Marco, genuinely changed for the better and has been working on that since.  But this episode gives us a good reason of why the other toxic part of tom, his rage, was never reigned in. Here.. it’s just normal. One scene illustrates this well: A couple casually if rudely challenges marco to a fight when he just wants to find kelly, more on that in a minute. But when he walks away, they just say “he seemed nice. And not EVERYONE is like that.. but most of the demons seen this ep are agressive, competitive and combtiive but not without reason. 

We get a great example of this after Smores, where Marco’s fell off, tom and star are cute, and kelly licked all of hers. And after Marco realizes Tom’s outfit is just one of his hoodies but customized.. which for tom means ripping off the sleeves because that’s how he rolls and offering to do the same for marco. Also Star is in an adorable sailor outfit. what i’m saying is I like their outfits this episode and Marco has a lot of copies of that hoodie so in terms of Star’s invasions of his privacy, this is low on the list. 

Back on point, a couple challenges the group over their spot and mocks star for not having a third eye.... but the resolution is beach volleball, witht he scoring demon from “Mr Candle Cares’ making an apperance. This shows Underworld culture: their volatile, they can get overly agressive.. but their polite outside of it. It’s why Tom’s anger wasn’t really adressed: Here everyone’ds polite the rest of the time, why does it matter? But it idd because even by these standards his anger was a problem and one he’s .. genuinely dealing with. While he gets devensive of his girlfriend, notice how he jsut gets regular angry and not.. murdery angry. We see his anger wasn’t normal even by underworld standards.. but he’s genuinely trying and has changed almost complelely from the last time we visted this realm. 

This is also.. about what we get for tom this episode. Yeah while this is part of the tomtrospective for the above, and for other reasons that we’ll get to, this is a Marco episode. And a Kelly episode, so Kelly, now the food to fill the void inside has run out, I can relate, is suddenly depressed and just.. walks off mid game. And given Star and Tom aren’t the most empathetic people, they really fail to notice with Tom only noticing how it effects him. Tom has grown.. but as we’ll see after “stump Day” with his next two episodes after that, he still has room to grow. But it is nice we get signs of that episodes before it happens. Excellent work. 

So yeah I guess for those who forgot, and if so how dare, or those who never got this far int he series who Kelly is. Kelly was introduced in season 2 as a friend of star and ponyheads who, at the end of her episode, after not talking was revealed to not be a giant bush, but a bispeceled teenager who just has a lot of hammerspace when her hair is down, as her hair is massive and whose species has a symbiotic relation ship with their significant others, as her boyfriend tad was in her hair merged with her the whole time. They breifly showed up again in another episode but otherwise haven’t been all that fleshed out till this episode. 

And what brings it about.. is their breakup. And they have before only to get back together but this time it’s for real, as Marco finds out when comforting her. He genuinely offers her to talk, but we’re interuppted by her good pal JORBY!. I freaking love Jorby and every second of his screentime here is magic. Sadly he’s only used like.. twice after this. He’s a giant talking wolf guy from Kelly’s dimension, only revealed by the finale, who thinks Marco is her new fighting partner and claims to have killed their mutual aquantince greg. Kelly just responds with an amazingly annoyed and sarcastic “You didn’t kill greg” which he didn’t, and when Marco tries to explain she’s falling apart, Jorby responds with “WE ALL ARE ALL THE TIME, EXESNTIAL WARCRY!”... the amount of great minor characters this series wasted I swear. 

But Kelly can’t deal with this and runs off and Jorby.. genuinely apologizes. He didn’t realize his friend was that banged up emotionally, and only dosen’t help because his goose girlfriend needs him. Marco is fine with this though and goes to offer his help after a breif search and two Skelly’s who fall in love over having the same name. Awww. 

Kelly and Marco finally talk and Kelly sobs into his arms in a genuinely moving bit, admitting after being with Tad so long she dosen’t know who she is anymore. It’s REALLY great stuff, and really helps us feel for a character we honestly barely knew: Sure we barely saw their relationship.. but it was good... and when a relationship ends that wound dosen’t close easily> Trust me.. I know. 

Though the other issue is that Tad.. hasn’t moved out of her head. Literally, he’s still in there and won’t take a hint it’s really really over and he needs to move on. So Marco, being a gentleman.. at least for this episode, agrees to help. IT’s why I like marco when he’s acutally written well: he can be awkward and sometimes a bit too full of himself when it comes to knowing stuff, but he’s a good kid who just wants to help people and I genuinely missed that version most of this season. So marco climbs in and finds Tad munching on vega pizza and refusing to leave, clearly subscribing to the duck method of swallowing your sadness. 

Marco tells him he needs to leave, and while Tad is in denial.. Marco gets it to sink in.. that putting himself around someone unavaliable is just going to keep hurting him agains and again and not help him move on. Tad.. .ends up agreeing.. and it’s then the episode has it’s best scene.... Tad says “marco is the expert on that”. Marco of course denies this.. until Tad eventually makes him see the truth: he’s hanging around star the same way tad’s clung to kelly and will sadly continue too as while he agrees to move out.. it takes a bit for it to stick as we’ll see next time. Tad gets him to think about it: He has dimensional sciessors. Anywhere in time and space.. and where doe she want to start? With his unavaliable crush, following her to what he thought would be a couples event with her boyfriend. I mean he didn’t KNOW Tad and Kelly were broken up, so far all he knew he was the fifth wheel. No one would willingly do that for no reason. He’s so obessed with her, he wants to be around her even though it’s never going to happen.. i’ve been there WAY too many times to call and had to eventually learn to let got for their sake and mine. You can still be around them, you just have to let go of romance for everyone’s sake and move on. And Marco hasn’t because he didn’t even realize it. It’s why I tolerate “Sophmore Slump” now.. because with this episode it goes from bad writing to his subconcious scremaing at him to go be with star, and him not listening because conciously he still wants his current girlfriend.. and really he loves both, he just didn’t deal with that or move past either, so he lost both. 

Marco.. has a panic attack over it justifably and breaks down gradually, seeing all the happy couples and finally star and tom, sinking in that .. Tad was right. He’s in love with Star.. and it hurts. It hurts a LOTTTTTT. And he has NO idea how to deal with it. And as we’ll see how he tries to.. is pretty damn bad. But that’s for other episodes. Let’s get to the climax of this one. 

Kelly finds Marco, like her earlier depressed and lost, and upon realizing this, and thanking him as Tad agreed to finally move out, says “kelly’s driving” and drags him. It’s in these last moments we get to see more of kelly’s personality: we’ve seen her be ssarcastic but now we get to see her be a bit off kilter and adorable, which is her standard mode and what makes me like the character so much and wish she got treated better. But we’ll get to that later in the retrospective as it happens to perfectly zig zag into Tom’s life. Point is we see more of her and find out why she came to see the Soulrise as she and Marco prepare to watch: she and tad used to see it every year.. and even if their broken up.. she dosen’t want that taken away from her. Even if their relationsihp is over.. pieces of it can still be hers to treasure and keep from now on. This can still be hers... and in this case Marcos as marco puts his jacket over her, and Kelly cuddles him. Awwww. If you were wondering, yup I do ship Markelly and Yup how it ends is really bad and we’ll get to it and there will be blood. But for now their just two lonely souls sharing a moment, with Kelly rebuffing getting Tom and Star “They don’t need this’ which is accurate and they have each other and some alone time. Their fine. Plus they you know, didn’t notice either of them are missing so ...

Thank you Jake. Rest in Peace my good friend who shares a name. So we get a nice romantic moment as they watch a bunch of eldtirch skeletial angels with wings rise from the depths of the black and white, and it’s also marco’s birthday! “Happy Birthday Marco Diaz”. And with that we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: This is one of my faviorite Star Vs episodes, even with later bullshit, and for good reason. It frames Marco’s previous actions in a better light, has some REALLy stellar acting from Adam McArthur, and is in general just a really soulful ep that really touches on some good stuff and fleshes out Kelly from a background character to a fan faviorite and sets up a new romance for Marco that I genuinely love. IT’s one of the series best moments even if later episodes would tarnish it slightly..but on it’s own.. it’s fantstic.  Next time on tom:It’s the...

Christmas Special! Until then there’s always another rainbow and happy thanksgiving!