#when I saw the pattern of Amanda's top this is all I could think about

[wowifinallywatched]

Friends I think I downloaded the wrong spiderman

[monsterfucker-lisa-swallows]

this is going to be a very uncomfortable and potentially triggering conversation so i suggest you scroll past if you have a lot of empathy because this isn't fun at all

also wanna preface this by saying i'm not interested in spreading conspiracy theories or "truther" claims because i feel that's incredibly disrespectful and potentially harmful to the people that need the most help. any allusions to unverified rumors will be presented as uncorroborated, not as fact (only bringing them up because i know that's the kind of rumor floating around and i don't want to seem like i'm participating somehow in dismissing concerns). because we simply don't know. and it's not our business.

i've had this bad feeling about amanda bynes for the past decade. it's the same pattern we've seen with child stars over and over again. the drugs, the mental breakdown, the conservatorship. but i pushed those nagging thoughts away. i didn't have the bandwidth at the time because i was living in an abusive household when her most public battles were happening. i didn't have the time or the emotional understanding to put towards what was happening to her even as i felt it mirrored what i was going through or what my mom was going through. then i found out about dan schneider a few years ago. i didn't really engage with the rumor and speculation about him - i was in my early 20s when this all broke and i didn't know most of the shows he'd been involved with except by the fact that my younger siblings watched them. i'd been an amanda bynes fan - hugely into the amanda show and what i like about you. my siblings watched drake and josh, icarly, and victorious. i didn't have the emotional bandwidth at the time to look into what people were saying. i knew it would upset me if i learned too much. but i couldn't stop thinking about amanda.

i heard about quiet on set from news websites. i saw the headlines about drake bell. it shook me to my core. the things i was reading were horrific and immediately put me in mind of what my sister went through as a teenage survivor of repeated sexual abuse by a man who was trusted with our care. she'd had a huge crush on drake when we were growing up. i wonder if she's heard about this.

this immediately made me think about amanda again. this time i couldn't push the thought away. i guess i'm finally ready to process the way this whole situation has felt to me.

the way people talk about amanda reminds me of how people in the 50s talked about judy garland. child star with incredible talent, far beyond her years, with incredible charm and personality and the whole world at her fingertips. everyone loved working with her. until she became erratic and had a mental breakdown fueled by drugs. (you could even argue there were parallels because both women were frequently typecast as the wholesome girl next door and not really allowed to break out of that infantilizing box.) and no one could ever think why. why does this happen.

i've come to believe that mental illness always has a cause. brain chemistry fucked up by trauma, whether that's long-term stress or a singular event or repeated traumas stacking on top of each other. the mind can't cope. i really, truly believe something horrific happened to amanda bynes. and i know people will say, well, maybe it wasn't dan schneider. she was doing fine for years after she stopped working with him. i want to make one thing very clear. trauma doesn't always manifest symptoms immediately. not everyone comes out of a trauma looking shell shocked. i know from my experience because i didn't have my breakdown until a year after my abuser was exposed and i'm still feeling the consequences to my psyche to this day. and i think it must be difficult for child stars to process this trauma. the pattern i've seen is the child star endures something terrible, gets incredible fame and begins taking on more and more pressure, then when this isn't enough to make them happy they turn to drugs. you think because they got out that it would all just go away? no. they were raised to play characters so they played those characters. there was incredible pressure to just play those characters because that's what the fans want. having struggles isn't part of the brand. it had to be especially rough on nick stars because there wasn't much separation between them and the characters they played. it was the amanda show. drake and josh used their real first names. the separation between who they were and who the character was was probably a very blurred line.

i wonder how long this documentary has been in production. tracking down these people and petitioning courts had to have taken ages. amanda was supposed to be at 90s con last year but cancelled due to illness and had another psychotic episode. 90s con itself may have been a trigger for her, but if someone had reached out to her or if she'd heard about this production...i could see that triggering her and making her relive the horror she went through. there are so many unsubstantiated rumors floating around. i can't speak to whether she was high on adderall during that interview when she was 12 (she could've just been a hyper child but they could've been pulling a judy garland on her and i don't trust these people plus she's said she got hooked on adderall when she was a teenager for weight loss but she may not feel comfortable disclosing if the studio has her under NDA). i can't verify if that side twitter actually belonged to amanda. it could be some sicko thought it was funny to accuse her boss of knocking her up and forcing her to get an abortion at 13 or accusing her father of various things.

but i get why she wouldn't speak up because people won't believe her no matter what she says. i went through something and people in my hometown still debate whether i'm crazy or lying for attention. my family did everything they could to put me under control and get me diagnosed as paranoid or delusional so they wouldn't face justice. (really don't get me started on how the mental healthcare system is used by abusers to cover up their sins.) i wouldn't put it past her parents to do that, especially considering amanda had a bad relationship with them as a teenager which sent her further into that groomer's clutches. she doesn't owe us anything because it'll start a firestorm that could retrigger her as people debate if she's delusional or scrutinize her past mistakes to determine if she's a perfect enough victim to deserve sympathy.

which brings me to drake bell. i knew he was the victim before i watched the doc but it still gave me chills when he sat down in that chair. like it felt like the air drained from the room. it was so obvious that what he went through has affected him so deeply and that he had no one to turn to. my abuser had so much community support, so many people making us out to be lying opportunistic bitches. i can't imagine having to carry that secret. i wonder if the people around him can pinpoint it in retrospect when he started being different. i want the other kids on set to know that it's not their fault they didn't know and that they had a bad opinion of him at some point. my sister and i were pitted against each other by the man who assaulted her and it's only with context later that i can see what was going on. i have no doubt that schneider employed these tactics so no one would feel comfortable disclosing what happened to them.

i admit that i cried watching the drake bell episode. that had to be incredibly difficult for him to open up about it after all these years and i hope he can get some closure and that someone starts a support group for these former nick stars.

and to drake bell himself. you were a child. you had no idea what grooming looks like. most grown people don't seem to know what grooming looks like based on how they talk about these issues. you are not at fault for what that man did to you or not knowing how to handle it. you didn't do anything to encourage this and you're not at fault.

and to his father. i appreciate that you did what you could to try to protect him. my mother had a similar experience trying to protect us from my abuser but everyone assumed she was psychotic and had her put away. try not to blame yourself when you were the lone voice of reason and everyone else insisted you were in the wrong. i do have fault to throw on amanda bynes' parents to some degree depending on what part of all this is true, but i can't find fault with drake bell's father who did try when he saw something wrong.

and i'm sorry but dan being super nice to drake afterwards seems like an attempt to make himself look better and get another hit show. i don't believe for a second that dan didn't know anything or that he had any motives beyond making his own star rise. he wanted to churn out product, and couldn't have that product if drake bell was visibly distraught.

i want to know how many people have known it was drake for 20 years and said nothing. how many people were in peck's side of the courtroom and yet still had the audacity to think this child was at fault in some way. that's vile and utterly unforgivable.

i just want to end this by saying to leave these people alone. don't harass anyone who hasn't spoken up because they may not be in a headspace where it's healthy of them to say anything. they don't owe us any explanation of why.

[babblydrabbly]

Distracted (Peacemaker x Reader) Smut

Pairing(s): Peacemaker x F!Reader; Brief Javelin x Reader

Characters: Peacemaker/Christopher Smith, Amanda Waller, Javelin

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Smut, language, mentions of blood/violence. Choking, cream pie, semi-rough sex.

Summary: Out on a Task Force X mission, Peacemaker notices you're acting... different. He generously offers to help with what's distracting you. Asshole.

A/N: What's this? Baby's first Peacemaker fic? Takes place before The Suicide Squad (2021). Metahuman!Reader has super strength/speed abilities. Also, what kind of vanilla name is Chris Smith.

---

"Again?"

Amanda Waller arched a brow at your perturbed expression.

"My apologies." She droned. "Am I not stimulating you with enough variety, [L/n]?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in deference. It wasn't about that— It was about the deliberately repeated pairings with Christopher Smith. The dynamic that was becoming a pattern. You never would have worked with someone like Peacemaker on the outside. As much as you appreciated the job always getting done with him, you still bumped heads with him too much on the way to the finish line. He was frustratingly serious and flippant at the same time.

You decided to shut your trap before Waller decided she didn't need you anymore.

"You've got one skillset useful to me, [L/n]. I suggest you get used to the prospect of being paired up with Smith on a regular basis— While you're still around."

You nodded when she dismissed you. You had gotten used to it. You were seeing so much of Peacekeeper you were practically partners.

So, you pointedly sat to next the one called Javelin on the helicopter out of Belle Reve, as far away from Smith as possible. You were about to spend over twelve hours with him— It didn't have to start right away. While Colonel Flag gave you all the spiel on the mission, you glanced over and saw Javelin toss you a nod.

"You're Team B," The thrower noted over the whir of the helicopter. "[L/n], yes?"

"Yeah," you said. Your eyes flitted over the muscular squad member. He looked more like a superhero in his light blue and yellow get-up than the rest of you. You personally kept the lower half of your face covered with a black hard shell mask— Your armor from before you were incarcerated (Yes, you've heard the 'Baby Bane' jokes from the others). Even if you had to get used to working with a bunch of weirdos, you could at least conceal your face from them while you did it.

"You move very swiftly." He complimented, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to take that.

"Thanks," You tried, "I like your... weapon of choice?"

Javelin held his namesake in his arms, his legs spread wide to accommodate it as he rested it against his inner thigh. The innuendo normally would have had you rolling your eyes, but today they lingered, and you wondered if he still looked as broad and muscular without the suit on.

You frowned. Without the suit on?

Were you still staring down at his thighs?

You supposed he was a goddamn Olympic athlete at one point. And prison didn't seem to stop him from his regimen. —There it was again. You blinked and looked away, thankful nobody seemed to notice. Javelin seemed content with the brief introduction, so you left it at that.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile since you...

You reprimanded yourself. These were not recreational outings. As much as you liked feeling free every once in awhile, you were never in a position to consider doing something so stupid. The last few missions were some of the closest calls you had while on the task force, but now that your job today was more about recon, you could at least let your mind wander to the less... imperative things. You crossed your legs at the ankles in front of you and let mind drift for the rest of the trip.

But christ had prison been rough. And a little boring. You didn’t have to think about Javelin moving closer to you for long— Pressing up flush against you— Before you were imagining yourself against a wall— Hell, right here on this bench— hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you. You pictured him going for two, three rounds, that stupid suit lying on the floor with your back on top of it. You pictured him going down on you too, a handful of his wavy blonde hair in your grasp as you pressed your thighs around his ears. You swallowed behind the mask, glad it was there to hide your face.

You get dropped off an isolated point a few klicks outside the target area, the rest of the team traveling further in to handle the bulk of the mission. You lug some extra equipment in a canvas bag— Guns, surveillance tech— already annoyed by the heat.

The heat of the jungle. Definitely not the heat you'd been feeling in the helicopter. You walked a half mile in total silence just trying to focus on the mission again.

"What's got your tactical suit in a twist?" Smith finally uttered as you got to your destination. You almost forgot he had dropped down the rope onto the ground after you. He stood out against the green around you in his obnoxious red shirt and white pants.

"Nothing." You lied, and you could tell from under his helmet that Peacemaker thought you were full of shit today. Great.

You set up inside a small building— An outpost long abandoned. Whatever organization you were taking down for Waller, they clearly had to downsize over the years. You kicked open the metal door, sending it flying off its hinges. Smith entered first, clearing all the rooms before you joined him. Upstairs, you begin setting up the equipment together. Peacemaker started with standing up a rifle by the window, aiming it at the road below.

You fiddled with a tablet; You went downstairs to put a sensor on the door frame and on the rusted gate blocking the road outside. They were supposed to warn you when any vehicles were approaching, but when you came back up, it lost signal. You did this twice; You batted at the little screen, vexed. There were probably signal jammers over at the main compound that could still reach all the way out here. You thought about how Team A was doing— So inevitably, your thoughts drifted back to the damn Javelin guy.

"Jesus!" You snapped. You were grateful when you didn't break the small screen in half with your strength.

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong." Came Peacemaker's voice from across the room. You stood there without turning around. You took a breath, tossed the tablet onto the bag at your feet.

"Nothing is wrong, Smith. Fuck off." You said. You reached up and unclipped your vest. Beneath it, you felt the cool air of the shelter hit your jumpsuit. You tossed the vest on the floor, then turned around. "When are they supposed to get here?"

He quirked a brow, as if proving his point. Since when didn't you remember the mission details? Rather than give him the satisfaction of thinking you were slipping you waved your own question away.

"God, never mind."

He scoffed. You watched him remove his helmet and gloves, setting them down carefully next to his own pack. He'd made his own area across the room from yours, another tablet showing him a view of the road propped up against the wall. Smith took a seat on the floor; The two of you were going to have to play the waiting game now.

In silence. The thought made you pinch the bridge of your nose right above where your mask stopped.

"You know, I've been at Belle Reve for four years now." You finally relented. You leaned back against your wall, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah? So?" Smith retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"So," God— You were really confiding in Christopher Smith. That's what it was coming down to. "I haven't had sex in four years. It's... not a big deal— Nothing's wrong. That's just what I was annoyed about earlier, you know? Consider me over it."

"That why you were ogling the Javelin in the copter today?"

Shit. Shit!

You dropped your arms. "You piece of garbage. You saw that?"

"I'm garbage? You're the one sexually harassing our fellow teammates with your eyes."

"I was not sexually— Nope. I'm done. You're ridiculous." You said. You reached down and went back to your tablet, busying yourself with it idly.

Peacemaker did the same. From the corner of your eye, you just knew he was doing it smugly.

"You know," He said after a few minutes, "If that's all you're bitching about, we can just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

"You and me. Target's not coming in for another six hours, by the way. You don't need that much time do you, 'four-years-dry'?"

You stared at him from across the room. When you didn't reply, Peacemaker set his screen down so damn casually you consider just shooting yourself in the head.

"You're off your game. I'm not going to let you compromise our objective."

You threw your hands up. "There it is. You're like a broken record."

"What? Am I fucking wrong?"

"No, you're fucking crazy."

"Get over here." Smith instructed in a low voice.

The words shot up your spine, sending a very mixed signal to your brain. Directly across from you, Peacemaker was pinning you with an expectant look— One that was clearly a challenge. It pissed you off.

It was the look he used when he said you couldn't rip a guy's spine right out of his back— It dared you. And when you did succeed, you would shoot him an equally smug look in return. Your back and forths were always crass, always a test of who would back down.

You weren't normally so brutal when you worked alone, but something about Peacemaker brought it out of you. Whenever you were paired together, it was like your powers weren't something you had to hold back. They were something he was always prodding you to embrace. The jabs, the snark— It made you want to punch him in the face.

Standing up, you crossed the room. Smith didn't move as you stepped over his legs, as you leaned down to straddle his waiting lap. He simply watched you shift around until you're comfortably seated, your hands resting on his shoulders. He moved to place his own on your thighs but didn't do anything more.

"Well?" You said.

He shrugged, "Your call."

"What am I gonna do? Dry hump you?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fuck."

Finally, you reached up, unclipping the back of your mask.

"Whoa, wait—" He started, finally reacting to this ridiculous situation, but you already had it off, in your hand.

"I—" He stared at you. You shifted, feeling nervous as you stared back. It occurred to you that you'd never seen him shocked before.

He blinked. "I've never seen your whole face before."

That wasn't true— was it? You tried to think. "What about in Cuba? We camped out for like three days. I had to take it off to eat at least."

"I didn't look."

"You didn't look."

"I don't fucking know! You wear that fucking thing everywhere. When you took it off to eat I assumed you didn't want me looking."

"Wow. How courteous."

"Fuck you."

"Well, isn't that what we're doing here?" You said, putting your hands on your hips stubbornly. Smith's were still resting on your splayed thighs.

"I can't wear this when we— How am I supposed to...?"

He snorted softly, "Don't tell me you're a romantic, [L/n]."

Nothing about this seemed romantic. Least of all with him. Still, if you were going to take the opportunity, you were going to do it your way. You looked him over.

He had a few tufts sticking out from wearing his damn helmet earlier. You reached up and brushed some of it back into place at his temple first. Smith blinked up at you, his brows pinching together.

"This okay?" You heard yourself asking him. He eventually nodded once, watching you as you placed your palm on the side of his face. Finally, you leaned down and caught his lips with yours in a long kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to know his reaction.

But you felt him return it. Slowly at first— Then he was kissing you back. You moaned somewhere in the back of your throat as he ran his large hands up and down your legs, his fingers folding to grip your ass tightly. You were already reacting, already so touched starved. His lips parted, and you felt him swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, over the front of your teeth. You opened for him, your tongue darting out to meet his hungrily.

You tugged at the front of his uniform. Without a word he reached down to pull it up over his head, the fabric dropping off somewhere beside you. You glanced down at his bare chest. You ran your hands over it, dragged your nails down his pecs experimentally. When you looked back up he was still watching you.

Your mouths crashed to meet again, this time with a fervor that threatened to split your bottom lip with every bruising kiss. You felt his hands on you again, pressing into your sides, your waist. He didn't move to take off your clothes, so you drew your hands to your own chest, pulled the zipper of your suit all the way down to your stomach.

He took the invitation, and you gasped when he roughly reaches in and cups a hand around your breast; He kneaded it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. His other hand worked at your shoulder, yanking the rest of your suit off of you. You reached back and tugged the sleeves off, finally exposing your upper body.

You felt the clasp at your back come undone, and Smith was tearing your bra off next. A muscular arm came around to scoop you up by the waist, bringing your chest closer to him. He leaned down, took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Smith—" He bit you roughly, and it sent a shock of electricity up you. He palmed your other breast again, tweaked at your nipple until your back was arching into his touch. You squeezed your thighs around him.

Then he was back in your face again, bruising a kiss against your lips as you took a breath. Your eyes flew open when you felt the press of his fingers to your mouth. You shot a look at him, but didn't object when he pushed his index and middle fingers past your lips. You sucked them hungrily, your eyes fluttering shut again.

"Fuck," Peacemaker murmured, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits. You slurped sloppily until they were soaked, until he was pulling them back out with a light pop. He brought his hand down to the base of your suit, where the zipper stopped just above your pelvis. A pair of black panties peaked out from the V shape there, the same shade and material as your bra. You gasped when Smith finally pushed down past the layer of cotton, gripped his bare shoulders when you felt his wet fingers dip right into your cunt.

"Fuck," He said again, because you didn't need any help down there. "You're so fucking wet."

You expected to feel humiliation— To hear a joke about how it really had been while. But all you felt were his warm, thick fingers; He ran them up and down your slit, pressed them in small circles around the peak of you a few times. You cursed, your head falling back. Smith leaned up to kiss your throat, teeth dragging across the base of your collarbone. He bit you some more, daring to take your meta-human skin between his teeth. You cried out, your arm reaching to wrap around his head in pleasure.

Smith slid his fingers up into your pussy. He crooked them, scissoring them inside you. Your hips bucked, unable to resist meeting his short thrusts. You felt him grin against your neck. "Damn, baby."

"Shut up." You whispered, letting your hips rolling down to fuck yourself on his fingers some more. When he slipped in a third you moan loudly.

"Fuck! Fuck me." You demanded, yanking the short hair at the back of his head. A groan left Smith's lips, his head jerking back. Quickly, he removed his hand from your suit, pulling the rest of your clothes further down your waist. You lifted yourself off him, but Smith didn't wait. He picked you up and lifted you both off the floor. You grabbed at him as he laid you down on your back, his body between your legs. Then he was ripping off the last of your suit, tearing your boots off.

"Watch it," You snapped— If he fucking ripped anything you—

"Oh please." He huffed, and your thoughts stopped in their tracks as you watched him lean back on his knees above you, undoing his white pants. His cock sprang free from a pair of just as white underwear, his arousal already thick and ready. You stopped yourself from expressing how the sight of him made you even wetter.

He took a moment to drink in your face, a hint of that smug smirk forming. You growled, pulling him down by the neck again before he ruined the moment with speaking. Smith caught your lips again, his hand running down your naked body. He gripped one of your legs and nudges them apart, planting his knees between you.

Despite his earlier preparation, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock pushing inside you. You groaned as he entered you, your walls stretching around his length. Your back arched as you took him in, eyes rolling a little into the back of your head.

"Fuck— Chris—" You shuttered. His hands squeezed your thighs at the sound of his name leaving you. You heard his breath shake, his hips remaining utterly still as you got used to the size of him. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see him waiting for you; You nodded once, another moaning already escaping in anticipation.

It was like a brick wall knocking into you. Smith didn't hold back as he began fucking you— Knew you could take it— what with your powers and all. The idea seemed to drive him, and he began hammering into you, his hands moving to bracket your hips so he could fuck you better. Faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck— You couldn't think. You arched up off of the floor as you rolled your hips to meet Smith's. It felt like he could keep up this pace forever the way he wasn't stopping. Your breathing turned to panting, a high whine escaping you when he shifts just right— he picked you up again. You arched up into his arms, holding yourself up from around his neck as he fucked up into your soaking cunt. You bounced on his cock, a sheen of sweat blooming across your skin.

When you opened your eyes, Smith was still watching you intently— witnessing every little expression on your face while he fucked you. You could hardly discern what he was thinking. All you could focus on was him ramming you, the feeling of his cock hitting and stretching you out.

“Choke me.” He said, and you have just enough wherewithal to oblige. You wrapped your hand around his throat, pressing firmly on either side. You felt the tightness of his skin shifting under your touch. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in time with his rough thrusts. The strength of your grip was a little vice tipping Smith over the edge.

The look on his face, his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing sends a jolt up you. You used your other hand to slip two fingers down between your folds. They found your clit, making quick work of bringing you to close to climaxing. You shuttered as you felt the tight coil of it building. Finally, with a cry you were coming, squeezing your legs around him as your hips rolling through every wave of it. Smith groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm until your walls were fluttering from the unrelenting stimulation.

“Going to—“ He warned, and you squeezed the hand around his throat harder, making his eyes roll up. You whimpered as you feel the hot spurt of him fill you, his hips finally locking as he pumped you with his cum.

You both took a moment to catch your breath, your hand releasing from Smith’s neck so he could take in a long gasp. His skin was reddened along his throat and chest. You saw the beginnings of your handprint bruising around his Adam's apple, your fingers a mark on his skin. You hung onto him like that, your arms back around his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck.” You finally said. Out of habit, you checked your watch to assess where you were on the mission. He took your chin in his hand, drawing your eyes back up to him. You saw that his hair had fallen back into his eyes, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m not done with you.” He said. It sent a shiver through you. You felt your walls flutter again, some of his cum leaking out with his half-hard cock still firm inside you. You gasped as he pulled you off of him, guiding you down until you were turning around on all fours on the floor. You glanced over your shoulder, already craving the feeling of him filling you up with his cock again.

And fuck it, you two do take the whole six hours.

[pxregoth]

COBRA KAI S5 REVIEW (SPOILERS)

I might make a video about this cause I feel like I won't be able to fully get my point across in a text post.

Anyway, overall season 5 was really good and probably my favorite season in terms of storylines/character arcs. My top 5 characters this season is Daniel, Miguel, Sam, Tory, and Chozen.

I absolutely love how much they delved into trauma this season. It's honestly what I've been wanting from this show for so long. And I know every season has some form of exploration of trauma but this season really put it up to 100%. I seriously want to make a post or a video delving into the traumas of all these amazing characters and the psychological scars that these traumas left them. I think it would be really interesting for me to really dig deep into that.

My favorite story arc is between Miguel's and Daniel's. It broke my heart to see Miguel sorta idolize his bio dad only to have it be crushed with reality. It hurt to see how much he wanted his bio dad to want him. But what really brought me to tears was seeing his relief when he saw Johnny. I think he realized at that moment just how important Johnny is to him and how he doesn't need his bio dad because Johnny is there for him. Daniel's story arc also broke me because I genuinely felt his fear. I could see it in his face that he felt like that vulnerable teenage boy again whenever Silver was around. I hated seeing him so distressed but it honestly goes to show just how badly Silver traumatized him (and continues to traumatize him). I absolutely love the realization Amanda had about Daniel saying that he never really got over his past traumas. It goes to show just how much Daniel pushed his traumas away instead of properly dealing with them.

I also loved the Daniel, Johnny, and Chozen trio. The chemistry between them was unreal. I love how feral Chozen and Johnny are in regards to Daniel. Like they really went from teenagers hating on this bambi looking motherfucker to fawning over him in their 50's lol. I loved seeing them protect Daniel from Mike Barnes in the season finale. Seriously, I never thought I would hear Johnny telling someone to get their hands off of Daniel. I love how both Daniel and Johnny have protected each other from other people. Really goes to show how much their relationship has grown.

Carmen's friendship with Amanda is my favorite thing ever and I wish they had more scenes together. I seriously hate that they made Carmen get pregnant like are we being for real right now? Like yeah she's still young enough to have kids but Johnny is in like his mid-50's why are we giving him a new-born child??? :| Like maybe let's give Carmen an actual good story line for once. It would've been so interesting to see her reunite with Miguel's biological father and I would've done anything to see her protect Miguel from him. As well as Rosa, I bet she would've demolished him in like a minute. But yeah, I swear Carmen only seems like a real person when she's with Amanda. When she's with Johnny, she just seems like a two-dimensional love interest. I think the show would've really benefited from having her and Johnny be friends. Like the type of friends that feel like siblings. In that way, Johnny can still be protective over her and realize that he doesn't have to sleep with/be in a relationship with every woman he comes in contact with. And Carmen can have someone else's support. (It would've also been interesting to see her trust/relationship with men change as she got close with Johnny). But no, a boring ass relationship it is, I guess.

Terry was an amazing villain as always. There were so many times where I wanted to jump into the screen and stab him and other times where I couldn't help but applaud how intelligent he is. However, he truly underestimates people. It is so interesting to see how different he and Kreese really are cause Kreese seems to see value in everyone. Kreese seems to have a pattern of finding the most vulnerable/weak person in the room and making them into something. Whereas Silver seems to just throw money around and hope for the best. Other than maybe Kenny, Silver often times wants people to be his idea of perfect from the very beginning instead of building the weakest person up. Or at least, show the capability of being "perfect." It really shows how your upbringing shapes you. I really love how the finale switched their places with Kreese being out of prison and Silver having been arrested. I highly doubt this will be the end of Silver, since he and Kreese have yet to reunite. I am literally dying to see their reunion.

Sam and Tory helping each other out in the end makes me so happy. I was seriously hoping they would hash things out this season and they did. I really do hope it stays that way. I can see them forming a hesitant friendship in season 6 where they talk about Miguel and Robby and possibly their home life. I don't think they'll end up best friends but I can definitely see them being each other's key to healing their traumas.

Overall, I loved this season and I can't wait to see what happens next. If I were to give it a rating, it would be a 8 out of 10. Two points deducted because of that annoying ass pregnancy story line.

[feeling--pink]

My Sweet Ride is an amazing episode of Phineas and Ferb and the only thing bad about it I that I wish we could have seen more people in full out 1950s clothes!! So I did that!! (Also including some MML kids because I love them and don’t draw them enough!)

Anyways!! If y’all want to see me rant about 1950s stuff for a very long time because I had a blast doing research for this project you should click the keep reading!! :D

Okay a quick prelude!! Not only am I going to talk about outfits I designed, but while doing research I was blown away about the attention to detail the original designers had for these outfits and characters so I’m going to talk about their outfits too! :D

Here are my sources if you want to look into this btw!! :D

https://vintagedancer.com/1950s/1950s-teenager-fashions-girls-fashion-trends-and-clothing-styles/ 

https://vintagedancer.com/1950s/1950s-teen-boys-clothing/ 

https://vintagedancer.com/1950s/1950s-hairstyles/ 

https://vintagedancer.com/1950s/1950s-dress-styles/ 

https://vintagedancer.com/1950s/1950s-womens-hats-by-style/ 

https://vintagedancer.com/1950s/1950s-womens-shoes-style/ 

Candace

Okay I’m going to start out by saying I just adore this outfit

That has nothing to do with anything I just really love it!!

I’m thinking I might make one of my own for Halloween but that’s off-topic

Okay- 1950s clothing!!

Candace is wearing a blouse (?) with a cardigan over the top, and a pleated swing skirt.

This is a classic 1950s girl’s style

More specifically its also a classic “preppy good kid” look

Which Candace absolutely is!!

Y’all should notice that all the skirts are past knee-length, which was standard of the time.

Candace also has a neck scarf, a common accessory, and a headband.

Ribbon headbands were still a thing in the 50s but the hard plastic headband was also coming into style in the later 1950s.

She’s wearing a pair of saddle shoes which were one of the popular options of the time among boys and girls

Her hair is long with curls at the end, another classic teenager look in the 50s!

While short hair was more popular among adult women, teenage girls often kept theirs long with slight curls on the end!

Bangs were also standard, but usually shorter than how I drew them

Sorry that bit’s inaccurate through all of them, it’s just easier for me to draw long!

Finally, in case you had any doubt about Candace’s outfit being time period, here’s an advertisement from the article I read:

Vanessa

To start off we have a blouse and pencil shirt for Vanessa

Pencil and swing skirts were the two most common skirts of the time

She’s also wearing a belt, which I modified slightly to look like-

The wide contour belt on the bottom right!

She’s also wearing a pillbox hat, one of the popular hats of the time!

Hats were generally not worn by teenagers because they were seen as “mature” 

But that fits pretty well with Vanessa’s character

It’s the same story with the pumps, which I also changed lightly to match time period ones a bit more

Now what made me make my original post about the outfits in My Sweet Ride was actually the hair

Specifically, Vanessa’s hair is modeled after the Bettie Page style

This hair wasn’t actually that popular with the masses because it was seen as too simple, not classy, etc.

BUT it was popular among rebel girls in the USA

And like!!!!!! Y’all the designers did SUCH a good job to get down into details like that!!!!!!!!

But yeah her outfit’s great!! Next one!

Stacy

For Stacy, I decided to change things up slightly and give her a dress!

Specifically, it’s a shirtwaist dress, which I modeled after the reference below

Why the shirtwaist dress you may ask? Idk I think they’re neat

I thought it fit the vibe I was going for so I did that one I don’t know what to tell you jkdshsf-

Okay so generally, the belt wouldn’t have been a different color but I wanted to tie the green I used in a little more

Btw sorry I changed her color scheme a bit

I honestly haven’t fully figured out her original color scheme so I modified it a bit so it would look nice for this!

Pastels were very popular in the summer after all

I tried to stick to everyone else’s original color scheme though!

Stacy also has a headband tied up into a bow, which was standard

And to change things up I put her in a ponytail (with the end curled) which was popular with the teens!

Sklsdjhdkj I sound very “how do you do fellow teens“ while writing this that’s unintentional sorry

Shoes are penny loafers, another popular shoe at the time

I liked the little bows on the ends of some of the ones I saw and thought it was very Stacy!

That’s about it for her!

Phineas

This has nothing to do with anything but I love drawing Phineas

He’s just a funky little triangle!! I love him!

I’ll admit here that I didn’t look into men’s hairstyles, so you won’t hear about that from me sorry!

Phineas is wearing a black button-up, standard. 

Black and white matched everything so they were the most common undershirt colors

Over that, he has a jacket that looks to be varsity jacket inspired, which was seen as super cool!

Full jeans were coming into popularity in the 50s but only with the younger generations

Finally, he also has saddle shoes like Candace does

So yeah it’s a solid 1950s outfit!!

Ferb

Ferb’s a greaser, need I say more?

No, really he has everything

The white t-shirt and jeans combo is exactly the greaser look, so much so that most teenagers avoided it to not fall into stereotypes

Tighter fit jeans were coming into style in the later 50s, so that’s also accurate

The leather jacket just amplifies the greaser look

The one thing is that for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what shoes he was wearing

So I gave him a pair of sho-loks and called it a day!

More about sho-loks in Milo’s portion!

Isabella

Isabella makes an appearance with the first (and only) poodle skirt of the group!!

Poodle skirts, while definitely what most people think about when you say the 50s, actually weren’t that popular among teenagers

The embroidered designs were seen as childish, so children and preteens wore them the most

But here’s a fun tidbit you may not have caught from the show, Isabella is, in fact, a child

(I don’t know why I built that up so much sorry ldksjfhkds)

Anyways I decided if I was going to give anyone a classic poodle skirt it might as well be Isabella!

I modeled it after this poodle skirt:

She’s also wearing a blouse with a peter pan collar, the most popular collar of the time

Another headband tied into a bow because it’s Isabella I had to give her a bow

Standard belt (nothing really to say about that)

And another pair of penny loafers with little bows because they’re cute gosh darn it!

Milo

Okay, I’ve been writing for a while but honestly a lot of the rest of these I just drew directly from reference so…

I did say I would talk about shu-loks here though and I will!!!

Now we know Milo is shoelace-adverse

And while there are plenty of slip-on options I found the shu-lok to be fascinating!!

As you can see above, the tongue snaps down to keep the shoe on your foot!! Isn’t that cool? :D

So yeah I gave Milo those!!  

Zack

We know Zack plays football so I gave him your standard sporty outfit

Sorry I just find girls outfits infinitely more interesting so I kinda focused on those skjhgfdss

Oh! I do have something to say here!!

Converse were your typical sports shoe for the 50s so he has those!! Almost forgot that tidbit!!

Yeah, thick soles with wrinkles and stuff were seen as cool among teens so they got popular!

Melissa

Finally, we have some patterned pants!!

Yeah- checkers, plaid, stripes, polka dots, etc. were all very popular!!

I just didn’t want to draw them a lot ‘cause it’s hard sksfjdhgs-

But I gave Melissa checkers because it would get the black and white of her color scheme and I liked the way the checkered pants looked!!

Girls did wear pants at the time by the way!!

During summer and weekends mostly since they weren’t allowed to wear them to school

Short-sleeved turtle necks were also a thing and I thought that combo would look neat!!

Also, converse because it went with the outfit and that’s kinda what she’s wearing in the show!

Hair in a ponytail and side part bangs, both popular!

Yeah okay, that’s about it for Melissa!

Amanda

By this point, y’all are hopefully getting the gist of 50s fashion so we’re going fast now

Blouse, swing skirt, penny loafers (different style but still penny loafers), headband

(here’s what I modeled the whole thing after:)

I do want to mention the pullover sweater because I thought I should include one and I really like the flower embroidery on them

Then finally we come to her hair!! I already mentioned the headband but I was specifically modeling her hair in the pageboy style which looks like this:

Obviously, it looks a little stylized but what can you do?

And that’s it!! I had so much fun doing research and designing this and I think they all turned out pretty good!! I’m going to do more go this in the futures so if there's someone in particular you’d like to see let me know!! I’m planning on doing Cavendish, Dakota, and Sara at least in the next batch!! 

[lookturtles]

Thought I’d post part of the WIP I’ve been working on. It’s a fill for the Cobra Kai kink meme where Daniel is obsessed with Johnny’s blond hair. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish it sometime this week

Daniel went up to Johnny’s apartment door to go over next week lesson plan with him. He didn’t technically need to go over it, he knew each student and their strengths and weaknesses, but it had been two weeks since his divorce was final and he needed a distraction; nothing distracted quite like Johnny. He was so irritating, but more than that they had quite a few things in common and had tentative friendship since they decided to combine their dojos.

Different but same, as Mr. Miyagi would have said.

He still couldn’t believe that Johnny agreed to call their dojo ‘Mr. Miyagi’s Little Eagles’ but apparently all Johnny wanted was to have lasers coming out of the eagle’s eyes on the logo.

He knocked.

‘Yeah! Yeah. Keep your pants on unless you’re a hot chick!’ Johnny yelled from inside the apartment.

He opened the door a crack and smiled when he saw Daniel.

‘Hey. What’s up?’

‘I thought we could go over our lesson plan for the week.’

‘Lesson plan? I have never made a lesson plan and I’m not going to start now. I’m not some nerd.’

Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘Just let me in.’

‘Yeah. Yeah,’ Johnny opened the door and the rest of what Daniel was going to say died on his lips. Johnny was wearing a crop top and a blond strip of hair started just below his navel disappeared under his jeans. He might be in his 50s but Johnny’s stomach was still toned and flat.

He tore his eyes from Johnny’s stomach. He could feel his cheeks heating up.

‘Something wrong, LaRusso?’ Johnny said with a grin.

‘Crop top. Why are you wearing a crop top?’

Johnny shrugged. ‘Laundry day. You still wanna come in?’

He thought about it, but thought being close to Johnny while he was wearing THAT shirt would be a spectacularly bad idea. They had a truce and he didn’t want to jeopardize it; he didn’t think Johnny would appreciate Daniel making a pass at him and Daniel didn’t trust himself not to. His fingers were already itching to touch that golden treasure trail.

‘Um... I just remembered... I have to do something,’ Daniel stammered out as he turned around and ran from Johnny’s.

‘Don’t be a stranger!’ Johnny yelled after him.

Daniel got into his car and rested his forehead on his steering wheel.

He had no idea where his desire to touch Johnny (more specificity his treasure trail) had come from but he needed to nip it in the bud. Growing up in the 80’s he had seen quite a few guys wearing crop tops and he had looked (who wouldn’t) but it was different with Johnny.

He drove home and the more distance he put between them the more he convinced himself he was a one-off. He was just tired and lonely.

He walked into his house and dropped his keys on the counter. While going through his divorce, he had asked Amanda if she wanted the house, but she just said it was too big for her. He could see what she meant. Sam and Anthony lived with Amanda most of the time, but they did stay with him every weekend.

He was thankful he still had a good relationship with his kids, but when they weren’t in the house it did feel empty and huge.

He turned on a radio and classical music filled the house making it not so quiet.

Loosening his tie, he decided to take a shower and just relax for a while and not think about Johnny and his golden hair.

Walking into the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into his large blue tiled shower. The shower had several different shower heads that had different spray patterns. Amanda had laughed when he had the shower installed, but he enjoyed it.

He and Amanda had tried having shower sex but he almost threw his back out and never again. Still, he had jerked off in the shower probably more times than the average man.

He turned on the water and groaned when the warm spray hit his aching muscles. Maybe it was the warm water, but after a few moments he felt his cock harden and started to stroke it.

He tried to just let his mind wander and it seemed to be working. He felt his orgasm building and as he stroked himself faster he pictured Johnny’s treasure trail and came hard.

‘Damn it!’ he yelled. Perhaps it hadn’t been a one off after all. He was just going to have to try harder to ignore it.

Stupid Johnny and his stupid crop top that showed off his stupid treasure trail.

[kanene-yaaay]

No Moving

Kanene’s note: One year ago I threw a surprise party (very small and cozy) in my house and, after some hours, one of mah friends suggested we played some old games from our childhood and I remember my first thought was “Hey, no. We’re not children anymore.” but I said nothing because that sounded a lot like what society would want me to say. We played. And that was one of the best days I’ve ever had. Good enough to give me inspiration for this fanfic. With a lot of chaos and dorky sides and chaos and tickles!!! So I'm giving this to myself as a gift, because, ya know... S e r o t o n i n! Soooo, the lesson? Idk. Be feral, do chaos, play and f**k the society, I guess. Happy day for us all!!! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!!  ^w^)b

* This is Ler!Roman and Ler!Virgil with Lee!Logan and Lee!Patton. Around 3.700 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Eu vou traduzir ainda ;w;. Thank you so so so much for being with me through all this crazy and difficult year. It’s been a bless to have all of you in my notes, my askys, and my notifications! Take care of yourself, lollipop, you deserve. <33

[~*~]

It was a sunny day. The heat from the biggest star of our solar system being placated by a relaxing wind incessantly throwing the napkins from the so careful, yet messy – as if this wasn’t a tradition the quartet repeated affectionately every single year – decorated table. The friends positioned themselves around it. The surprise party’s rush being already over after all their screaming, singing, eating and bickering, leaving the four to lazily chat or stare the breeze carrying lonely flowers around Virgil’s – the one who offered his house as a sacrifice to the chaos - yard, making them float in the air for some seconds before forgetting them on the dirt again.

Virgil snored softly from the spot he conquered on the tabletop, taking a peaceful nap. Patton was saying, in the fastest pattern he could muster, all the dad jokes his brain managed to think only to see how much time Logan would continue to give him the silent treatment before finally – and figuratively, the owner of the only brain cell of their group would say if he heard this narrative, - exploded and Roman? 

Well, Roman was bored.

“I HAVE AN IDEA!!”

Then he slammed his hands on the top of the wooden object, successfully scaring Virgil out of it and of his sleeping – leading the poor adult to fall. Not before kicking a cup in Roman’s direction, his moves being weakened enough by his fogged brain so he missed it and hit Roman’s carefully manicured hands, instead, – at the same Patton, by reflex, slapped the two poor persons who had the bad luck of sitting next to him. He gathered the perfect timing to interrupt Logan’s scared jump by his confused ‘Why did- why- Why did you hit ME?’ sputtering.

“Ow.” The one in red shirt held protectively his arm and hand next to his chest, protesting with his usual offended noises as analyzed the light red spots on them and purposely ignored the ‘What the FUCK, Princey??’ shouted by the host. “Ow. O-w. Are you guys seriously going to hit me every time I try to make your poor lifes better, your barbarians? You know what? I am offended. Your peasants. I am going to get my dear Amanda the katana and then I am- I am out.” 

Logan deadpanned in his direction, lifting one of his eyebrows in his disbelief expression as the other didn’t give a single step to the exit. He did his best to maintain the façade as Patton fuzzed over him, hugging and apologizing and hugging and softly petting his head and offering cake before gasping and turning around to fuzz now over Roman. “… Okay. I am taking Patton with me.”

“Over my dead, haunted body.” Virgil quickly proclaimed before his tune got slurred, very much likely still sleepy. “I saw…” He balanced his hands in front of him, eyes wide and hair spiked, very much reminding of a scared cat. “I saw the angel of death, in all his tall dark, cold aura. In front of me. He was right before me, full of-” He moved his hands more, as if that compensated for his lack of words. “Emo.”

“…Thanatos?” Logan pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. That guy.” Virgil came back to his initial position laying down on the cold surface, yawing. “Totally emo.”

“Actually, when he was created-”

“Excuse me. Focus, focus!” The one who initiated the commotion snapped his fingers until all the eyes were fixated on him, glares traveling from interested to unimpressed. “My brilliant idea? That will light up this party and hearts? Drum the drums!” Silence. He turned to Patton, who was staring at a cute butterfly mindless flying around. “Patton! The drums!” The one wearing black rims seemed to come back to reality, drumming his fingers on the table. “Very well!” Roman spun, extending the suspense. Logan came back to scrolling on his phone, Virgil getting closer to take a look, both hiding a smirk when heard the pout in Roman’s tune. “You’re all jerks and boring. Let’s play S.T.O.P!”

That caught their attention.

“Roman, you are…” Logan talked slowly, as if trying to make his words as clear as possible, “aware that we’re adults now, right?”

“Aw, come on, guys!” Patton jolted upright. “Sounds fun! And I think Virgil’s yard is bigger enough to make it even better than when we played in middle school!”

“Exactly! And it was one of your favorites games when you were younger, remember, Specs? I think it’s a good way to celebrate that special date which is your birthday!” Logan scoffed at that, albeit his mind was somewhere else. 

Roman wasn’t wrong, he really used to love this game, especially because he was good at it. His love for sports was often ignored by most of his classmates because of his good grades – Logan never understood why one thing would exclude other – therefore he was constantly forgotten in the team or even underestimated. Two things extremely crucial in a game like this. Roman noticed his contemplating face. “I mean, except you are afraid of losing. Again.” 

“I did not lose! Kyle fell on me and he was the only one supposed to be out and not both of us and you. Know. It!”

“No, no, no! Claire said you were the one who tripped on your way and then YOU fell on Kyle-”

“That is nonsense! If Claire had stopped just one second her Dance of Victory, she would be able to see that, by the angle we both were on the ground there was no way I would be able to-”

“Oh, plu-e-ase. You are just a sore los-”

“What is this game?” Virgil questioned Patton, both letting the bickering fall on the background, who smiled widely, his gaze unfocusing a bit, probably watching some old memories of his childhood.

“It is a very simple but fun game!! One person stays next to a wall and, oh! We call him the Looker by the way! Or even some large thing and the others players stay the most away from him as possible. The person next to the wall has to count until a certain number of his choice and while he is counting everyone is free to wander around the place until he turns around, then every player has to freeze on the same spot and position they were. If you move and the Looker catches you, you’re out. You win if you touch the wall where he was. You can do everything you want as long the Looker is not staring at you.

“There was that one kid who managed to win the game by climbing a tree until he was close enough to jump from it and run to the wall before the Looker shouted he was out.” The one wearing two party hats as ‘cat hears’ stopped to breath. “Ah! Ah! Also! If you’re out you can choose to just watch the game or become the Looker’s partner and try to help him. Roman and Logan used to be the worst ever when together.” He giggled, sounding a bit hysteric.

“Hm. I think they used to call this ‘10 Seconds’ in my school, since you could count only further than 10 seconds.” Virgil then frowned. “Wait, why were they the worst?”

“Uhh, so, you see, the Lookers can use some… attics to try to make you move. Logan and Roman usually choose to-”

“I do NOT wish to participate.” Logan stated, crossing his arms stubbornly. Roman sighed. 

“Well, you do you.” Roman then traveled his glare to the others two. “Are you guys coming? I’m the Looker.”

“I’m in!!” Patton excitedly got up, joggling his way to the yard, casting a slightly worried look at Logan, who was adjusting his chair in order to have a better view of the game. Virgil shrugged, taking off his hoodie and following them, quickly throwing a ‘You ok?’ as he passed next to the most professional of the group.

“Yes.” He deeply breathed, sounding calmer. “Yes, I am.” And then give him a bite of a smile. 

Roman positioned himself before the colorful three foot tall concrete tunnel forgotten there by the last owner, barely catching with the corner of his field view his two friends whispering something to each other, the one wearing two party hats snickering behind his hand, bouncing as also choose a good position far away from him, who tried to not think much about what he just presented. A suspicious feeling crawled the back of his neck.

“Go.” Logan pronounced. 

“Oneeeee, twooo, three, fourfivesixseveneight,” Roman turned away from them, counting in a tune just above a whisper. Patton and Virgil exchanged glances.

When he got at twenty, he turned. 

Only to find Virgil laid on the grass, his arm extended to point something in the sky, Patton crouched by his side, his face firm in a puzzled expression staring in the same direction, hand above his eyes to block the Sun. Roman frowned in confusion, the curiosity tickling the back of his brain until he succumbed to it, also looking at the sky to - surprise, surprise! – find absolutely nothing!

By the time he stared at them again Patton now was in front of Virgil, both making what seemed like a very horrible parody of The Creation of Adam painting. Roman got closer, managing to clearly see the smug smile on Virgil’s face and Patton wobbly lips, very much likely holding laughter. He crossed his arms, staying stubbornly for some seconds before giving up, seeing that none of them moved a single millimeter. 

“You two are so funny.” Roman rolled his eyes, sarcasm dropping from each word. Logan snorted.

This time the Looker counted at only fifteen seconds.

This time Patton was in Virgil’s arms when he turned, one leg suspended dramatically in the air. The third time Roman growled loudly as Virgil was on one knee, pretending to propose to Patton who was frozen in the middle of his faint. In the fourth he didn’t even have the chance to turn before two hands tased his sides, making his knees buckle but being held in the same place when a pair of arms that hugged him from behind, capturing the poor adult in a flow of high-pitched squeaks and surprised laughter at each squeeze and spidering deposited just above his hips. 

Some minutes later soft snorts followed him to the ground when he was finally freed, flames running on his face and his arms firmly pressed at his sides, the ghost tickles leading to a sea of giggles dancing in the air.

“Enough.” Logan cut the moment, all the eyes on him when he got up, stretching and loosening his party tie. The Looker recomposed himself in order to sneak pokes and squeezes on the other two, who quickly dashed their way back to the yard. “You both clearly aren’t taking this seriously enough.” A dangerous gleam took over his eyes, staring intently to Roman, who instantly got the same kind of shine in his own glare, nodding in his direction. Both too much preoccupied to notice Virgil and Patton silently high fiving in the distance.

The game started again, now a very different electricity dancing in the air. Logan sensed an old feeling of nostalgia resting on his back as he analyzed the place and his opponents as things went by. Roman turned for at least three times – the perfect number for things to get really interesting, - before he decided to finally move from his place.

Silent steps, he went right to Patton. Logan breathed in relief, taking the opportunity to adjust his strategic position half behind the tree. Patton kept a pattern of switching from moving too fast in a round and then barely taking a step in the other, however, as Roman stopped before him, and for the way he soundless snickered as The Looker changed his target to Virgil, his weakness was still holding his laughter when stared for long periods of time.

Virgil was sitting on the grass. Again. A very good tactic when you tend to fidget or tremble a lot. He would stay in the same position for some rounds until in an explosion of energy dash forward when Roman wasn’t paying attention. The Looker crouched in front of him, his index finger pointing and almost touching his nose.

“You. I don’t trust you.”

And then there was Logan.

“You,” Roman stared in distance – not because of fear pffff of course not - Logan’s form half hidden by the foliage and trunk of the medium tree, his glass making his eyes gleam in a light even more enhanced due the shadow provided by the plant, the rest of his face being partially hidden because of his bangs falling on his features. “are fucking creepy. Stop.”

In the next round Patton gave everyone a heart attack when he screamed since he didn’t heard/saw Logan approaching his spot. Two more rounds. Virgil sneezed and lost his balance in a not very ideal mid-run position. Out.

“Oh, thank gracious, great goodness!! Come here, Knight Mare!! I have an idea!!” Virgil barely had time to stop swearing for losing before being recruited by Roman, who immediately began to whisper in his ear.

 “What do you think they’re talking about?” Patton asked, both being close enough for the question doesn’t need to be spoken above a murmur.

“Not a good thing for us both, I am sure.” In that moment The Lookers turned and a cold shiver ran Logan who, for the way Patton trembled, wasn’t the only one. Adrenaline started pulsing on his veins when they approached, although the birthday person had no idea of why. His old memories too much buried under newer ones for him to catch them.

“Nooohoho.” The cat lover whined and the fact Roman clearly saw that but did nothing to point it, his only reaction being to expand his grin, worsened Logan fears, a ray of recognition finally shining on his mind. That should be how karma feels.

“Look at you both, just standing right there, not being allowed to move an only single inch. What a sad fate, don’t you think, Princey?”

“Oh, absolutely, emo. A horrible, wondrous thing, indeed. But you know what that would be perfect for?” Roman now was just a few centimeters away, the infinitesimal distance being cut when he inclined forward, his breath tickling Patton’s – Poor Patton – ear. “Revenge. You know, Pattycake, Hot Topic here told me the previous attack on my amazing person was your idea. And now that I stop to think, what a wonderful idea, don’t you think, Pat-pat?”

Virgil pulled lightly Roman’s shoulder, sensing the other about to crack but yet having too much fun to end this all so early. “But not now. No touching, right?”

“Oh, right, right. Of course, no touching!” He wiggled his fingers, barely away from the poor target’s ribs, his cheeks already beginning to get pink from blush. “No touching, no touching, no touching, but, most important than anything else: no. moving.”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil took the opportunity to walk around, stopping right behind Patton, who firmly closed his eyes, the smile he carried getting bigger. “Because the exact, very moment when you can’t take the teases anymore so you break and move?” He tsked. “Then all your protection will be over and you will be all helpless and vulnerable for us to tickle,” He almost purred the words, in the slowest way possible. “tickle, tickle, tickle for hours and hours. Can you imagine that, Popstar? Our fingers prodding and squeezing and tickling every single ticklish spot they find?”

“Ohoho.” Roman evil laughed. “Tickle spots? My Dear Imbalanced Romance, our pipsqueak here doesn’t have any tickle spots. He IS a tickle spot. Ah! I can almost hear his hysteric high-pitched squeaks and giggles! Such an adorable, beautiful, cute melody to my ears. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop, Virgil. It’s just all too beautiful and intoxicating, you know?”

“Mm hm,” The other seemed to stop to think. Patton felt like he was going to melt at any moment. “Well, we could always just keep going forever.”

“Of course!” Roman again ignored the slight trembling of the cat lover’s chest, probably due all the giggles trapped there. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful and oh, so, so fun, cutiepants? Receiving all the tickles and nuzzles and raspberries and tickle hugs and tickly butterfly kisses forever and ever and ever? ~” He sing-song the last part.

“But,” Logan almost jumped in the same place, not even realizing how much keyed up he was before Virgil’s breath attacked the back of his defenseless neck. Suddenly all his nerves were hype-aware that he couldn’t turn around or run or even rub away the tingles. Goosebumps ran freely across his spine. “Let’s not forget about our so sensitive nerd here too, right?”

“Sure. Sensitive.” If he didn’t know Roman for all these years, Logan would almost swear he was the Cheshire cat, his smirk almost blocking Patton who hugged himself behind him, giggling quietly. “Because the serious, smart, professional Logan would never be ticklish, right? That is such a childish thing and he definitely, definitely outgrow it for now.”

“Yup. I am sure that, if we slowly and thoroughly spider our fingers all the way up from his sides to his armpits, being sure to give each and every rib a special attention since we don’t want to let anyone feeling left out, there will be no reaction.”

“Absolutely! No reaction at all! Not even if we squeeze the hollows of his hips, or scribble on his already quivering tummy, or massage his shoulder blades or lightly, almost not touching, scratch his armpits… It will be all in vain since our birthday boy is not ticklish.”

“Which means: No wheezy, frantic laughter.”

“Or sputtering among his squeals.” 

“Or cute snorts. Don’t forget the snorts.”

“And what about when the snorts get mixed with his belly laughter?”

“Ohh, that is some good shit you have there.”

Logan was dying. He was fucking dying and the only thin line keeping him alive was his stubborn nature. He could already feel his barrier cracking and crumbling right before him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find both Lookers walking away back to the tunnels, not taking long before starting to count, this time out loud. The one with the, now freaking out, braincell began to snap his fingers non stop, trying to get away some of the built excited energy, some titters escaping from his lips during his happy stimming.

Roman and Virgil looked at each other and then the adorable scene right in front of them, deciding to have mercy and wait patiently for Logan and Patton – who yet didn’t stop giggling and hugging himself – to calm down.

(…)

One. Move.

And in the next second, they both were tackled on the ground.

“No, no, no!!! No!!” Patton was already giggling, trying to run from Roman’s firm hug, attacking with squeezes and scribbles in every spot he succeeded to research on the Looker as he also tried to escape from his friends’ hands attempting to hold him in the same place. “Wait, wait!” He cried, barely catching a glimpse of Logan’s trashing before an idea popped in his mind. “If we all gang up on Logan, I will tell about his secret tickle spot!!”

“Patton!!” Logan’s protest came out difficulty between his tight grin due his constant effort in trying to buckle Virgil from him, both struggling to immobilize the other and playfully rolling in the grass. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Pffft.” Roman said, a happy cry following his sentence when he finally managed to hold one of Patton’s hands, intertwining their fingers so the cat lover wouldn’t try to pry it away. “Nonsense, I know his tickle spots.”  

“Not all of them. ~”

“Patton, I am to going not figuratively end you. Get OFF, Virgil-”

“In your dreams.” He crackled. “Also, Patton, I’m listening.”

“Virgil! Don’t align with the enemy! And, of course I know all of them!”

“Even the one…”

“Patton, no! Stop!” Roman even if concentrated in tickling Patton’s knee so he could sit on his legs, got the slight tremble in Logan's voice, his curiosity one more time starting to take over his brain.

“Sorrey, sorrey, Lo! You know I love you but-”

“Patton, please.” Logan almost smiled as he fought his way to hug and trap Virgil from behind, but losing his balance as the other quickly turned and delivered a raspberry on his neck and quick squeezes on his left thigh. “dON’T!! I-I am going to bakeEEK - Fuck! - you a whole batch of cookies if you don’t tell them!”

Roman caught in the offer, his curiosity immediately perking up, answering in a bat:

“I’m going to tickle you both to pieces if you don’t tell us now.”

“Sorrey, Logan,” Patton tried to sound apologetic, but his excited smile made this task more difficult. “it’s you or me.”

“I’m going to tell them about your calves!” Logan threatened at the same time Patton said “It’s his lower back!”

“TRAITOR!” Both also shouted in synchrony. In a blink of eye Roman let Patton go and helped Virgil to make the most serious one of the group lay down on his stomach.

“I despise you all.” The aforementioned pronounced.

“Aww. Come on.” Virgil lowered, searching the other’s eyes, grinning. “Aren’t you enjoying the view?”

“400.000 years of evolution for humanity to become this. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You know, talking like this makes me think you don’t want us to give you your so dearly craved birthday tickles, Pocket Protector!”

The three of them stared at the other, looking carefully for any slight indication that Logan was truly uncomfortable with the situation, receiving as response only a scoff, the blush painting his face as a whispered mumble flew from his mouth.

“You’re so cute!” Patton squealed, giving a light tickly kiss on the back of his neck, leading the attacked to suppress a small giggle which progressively got louder as the cat lover tickled his armpits, Roman and Virgil seeing unfazed by Logan’s squirming. “Okay, okay. You have to tickle his lower back but starting with reeeeeally slow scratches at his sides before speeding it to the fastest scribbling you can muster as you move to his spine!”

Logan hid his hot face behind his hands, the yelps and snorts already escaping between his fingers. He was, objectively, going to love every single second of this.

[soyouthinkyoucansleep]

Battle of the Blades Episode 1 Review

For those who saw my earlier post, I got to go to the live taping of BOTB in Hamilton...my tickets were the front row (excluding VIP) so I got a really really good view! Here is my review of the show. I’m gonna talk about all of the couples in the order they skated. I was also gonna talk about the judges and some comments on the show overall but I’ll save that for another post since this is getting long.

A quick intro into the format. So during the commercial break, which is about 3 minutes, the skaters on deck get to warm up. For most of it, everyone focused on stroking with a few timers for lifts in there. The skaters are scored in the 10.0 system rather than 6.0 in the past which was a little weird. For today’s show, Tessa and Scott counted as one judge (they gave one score together). I felt like I was watching NCAA gymnastics for a bit. In the past, eliminations were based solely on viewer votes; the scores were just guidelines. Now like DWTS, its a combination of viewer votes and the judge's scores. The bottom two based on that will be required to compete in a skate-off next week and the winner of the skate-off is selected by the judges. Winner stays, loser goes home.

I went with my younger sister who is a figure skater so the technical comments come from her. It was great sitting with her to get that insight. Scroll below the cut for all my comments.

Natalie Spooner and Andrew Poje

They were the first ones to go so they had the pressure of setting the bar for everyone. Nat was away at Hockey Canada’s national team camp for about 8 days and she only got back to figure skating Monday morning, leaving three full days of rehearsals before the show.

Naturally, Natalie seemed very very nervous in this warm-up, almost looking like she was about to throw up. She kept looking at the ground while skating (a big no-no, as per my sister) and I noticed a few times Andrew reminded her to look up.

While the warm-up may have been a recipe for a bad skate, the routine was anything but! Nat had a huge smile on her face and seemed to have fun the entire time once the program got started. There was one major lift, a knee slide in there, and some footwork. Andrew and the choreographers did a good job adding a little mix of everything and they highlighted that Natalie was a strong skater (compared to many of the others). Completely forgot the fact that she’s hopping back and forth between hockey and figure skates because of her national team commitments.

They ended with 27.9 (9.3′s across the board) for T-3rd overall.

Colton Orr and Amanda Evora

Amanda is the reigning BOTB champion so there’s a little bit of expectation for her there. She’s skating for Boys & Girls Clubs of Canada in honour of a friend of hers who recently passed away (I think he’s the father of one of her students, Grace Knoop?)

Overall, they weren’t terrible but there wasn’t anything exciting about them. They did two lifts and a death spiral but the remainder mostly felt like stroking. Colton was also very right and like Kurt said, didn’t allow his lower body to move freely and separately from the upper body. Time could help with this but they were in last place with 27.4 (9.2 from Colby Armstrong, 9.1 from VM and Kurt). They will need the votes and potentially a good skate-off next week to be safe for week 3. My sister thinks they’ll be the ones to go home first and I agree with her.

Sheldon Kennedy and Kaitlyn Weaver

tw: abuse, sexual abuse

Sheldon’s intro piece focused on the abuse he suffered at the hands of his hockey coach Graham James. CBC did not shy away from the topic. They stated that Graham kept trading for Sheldon in the junior leagues so he could keep abusing him. The intro piece then showed how Sheldon took this terrible thing that happened to him and made it his life’s mission to educate the world and have these discussions so it doesn’t happen again.

What was truly amazing was how the crowd erupted in cheers for Sheldon at that part. It felt like the entire country of Canada is proud of Sheldon for the person he has become. I could see Sheldon getting a little emotional by that response.

They skated to Wake Me Up by Avicii which kinda tells the story of Sheldon wanting to run away from hockey to escape his abuse but found himself again and found joy in his life. And this routine was the literal definition of fun and joy. Sheldon and Kaitlyn had the biggest smiles on their faces and were both having the time of their life.

Not to take away from the fun, but they also skated probably the most difficult routine technically out there. There was an overhead lift. This is especially amazing considering Sheldon is only 5′10″ and Kaitlyn is 5′7″. Kaitlyn was not going easy on him and threw in a bit of the Yankee Polka pattern dance. YANKEE POLKA. AND they made sure to get the crowd involved too.

They received a well deserved, unanimous standing ovation. Like everyone was standing up, even the women with canes in the rows behind me. And they finished the night with 28.3 (9.4, 9.4, 9.5 from Kurt) in first place.

Amanda Kessel and Eric Radford

In the intro piece, you could see how much Amanda really looks up to her older brother Phil Kessel (Stanley Cup winner with Pittsburgh) and I think that’s so precious. She even chose Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto as her charity after seeing Phil bring the Stanley Cup to the kids and seeing their reactions and subsequently the work Sick Kids does for these children and their families.

Amanda and Eric skated to “Juice” by Lizzo so I was already excited for that. In terms of training footage, both Amanda and Eric posted a lot of lifts so I was excited to see what they were planning. They did do a fair number of lifts and a death spiral in there which were well executed. However, beyond that, I felt Amanda was very similar to Colton as she was very tight and rigid. Because she was the one being lifted, it was less noticeable compared to Colton–the lifts and tricks in a sense “broke apart” the tight skating.  They ended in second last, with 27.7 (9.3 from Colby, 9.2 from the others)

Brian McGrattan and Vanessa James

Brian McGrattan is a Hamilton Native so this was a homecoming for him. He lives in Calgary now but a lot of family and friends were here supporting him. Brian discussed his struggles with anxiety and depression which lead to alcoholism. He then sought treatment through the NHL’s alcohol abuse program.

Side note: It’s amazing that CBC, and these hockey players, are not shying away from these difficult topics. Brian McGrattan is a 6′4″, big, tattooed, enforcer. If he can come out on national TV and say “hey I struggled with depression and anxiety and I sought help”, I hope that inspires other boys and men to not shy away from these problems. The stigma with mental health is stronger with men and boys and I think people like Brian can make a difference. So kudos to the players and CBC for having these topics.

The program overall was elegant and vulnerable which is a completely different side to what people are used to for Brian, but he pulled it off really well. Brian truly opened himself up and was committed to the program. Technically they had some amazing lifts and a good connection. Overall they scored 27.9 to tie for 3rd with Natalie and Andrew but the individual judges were all over the place a bit (9.4 from Colby, 9.3 from VM, 9.2 from Kurt)

Bruno Gervais and Ekaterina Gordeeva

I’m just gonna start off by saying Bruno Gervais is an amazing dude. Just out of the goodness of his heart essentially, he started a charity with his close friend Max Talbot (husband of former Canadian Ladies’ Champion Cynthia Phaneuf) which provides underprivileged children with opportunities, ranging from sports to funding hospitals. They started this charity together when both were just 23 years old!

Katia is a queen. That is all that needs to be said. She was referred to as the G.O.A.T. by Kurt and Ron MacLean many times throughout the night, and rightly so. Both of them worked with Elladj Balde a fair bit which was very helpful for them. Elladj is trilingual (English, Russian, and French)–Katia’s first language is Russian and Bruno’s is French so Elladj communicated with them in their respective mother tongues.

Elladj’s influence was seen at the beginning of the routine with Bruno busting out some [very good] dance moves. His skating was very fluid and relaxed and he was very comfortable with the lifts, even doing a “combination lift” per se which involved a lot of twists and turns. They got a partial standing ovation from the crowd, the only other team to do so. I forget their score off the top of my head but they were in second place, close to Sheldon and Kaitlyn.

So that’s my review of the skates...stay tuned tomorrow for comments on the judges and the show overall.

Also, my messages are open if you want to ask me about anything in particular!

[silence-burns]

Not Close Enough //part(3/3)

Fandom: DC (Suicide Squad)

Summary: Based on: “Imagine Rick Flag getting jealous over how close you are with Deadshot.” by @thefandomimagine

Word count:  2,160       Warnings: a brief make-out session?

Fingers brushing through his hair tickled in the most pleasant way, making him want to lean his head back and let your hand roam free.

The kiss deepened when he gently pushed you till your back touched the counter. Warmth seeped through the clothes, caught the breath in his throat when you moved so close to him, still slowly and carefully, but exploring the possibilities with every touch, the bodies screaming for more.

Pulling you up on the counter felt like the only right thing to do. The dark mass of the burned pizza shattered on the floor, but it didn’t matter at that moment. Rick stepped even closer, settling between your legs like he belonged there, and there was no part of you doubting it.

Rough fingers brushed your legs, not shaking, but you felt how much he wanted to tighten the grip, almost painfully tense, as if it would get rid of any space between you, blurring the outlines of your bodies, shaping it into one…

The phone rang.

Rick shivered, and you felt the muscles in his arms twitching with anger. You pulled away just enough to see his face. If the caller was standing next to him, he’d break their neck without blinking.

His eyes met yours, close enough for you to see how flustered he had gotten, ragged breath warm and needy on your cheek. Heavy eyelids hid a burning gaze, peaking down at your kiss-swollen lips. You didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know them.

“Pick up the phone,” you muttered softly before he decided to ignore it like he really wanted to.

“I’m gonna kill the bastard.”

He leaned back just enough to pull the phone out of his pocket. You saw the name. “I’ll help you hide the body.”

“What do you want, Waller?” Rick’s voice was still raspy, but you hoped his boss wouldn’t ask questions. You hated her since the day you met and it was a reciprocated feeling. Metahumans were only objects in her eyes.

Rick moved back a little, but didn’t leave you. His free hand was still tracing some intricate patterns on your leg. You couldn’t hear Waller well, but his face changed momentarly, planting a seed of fear in your heart. The mood already vanished.

Your eyes met. Rick looked stunned.

“I understand,” was all he managed to say before disconnecting.

Silence fell between you, heavy and painful. Flag put the phone on the counter with enough force to break it. He looked down, breathing rapidly.

“What did she say?” you asked, pulling his head to rest on your arm. He embraced you, breathing in your scent.

“She wants to show you to the Comittee tomorrow,” he finally muttered into your hair, not daring to see your reaction. His grip tightened around you - a mere substitute of protection he’d like to cover you with. “She is pleased with how well you cooperated lately and wants the others to approve a deal on a larger scale.”

“What does that mean?”

Coldness froze the tips of your fingers, making your hands shake while you were brushing Rick’s hair. Your heart pounded rapidly, a paralyzing sense of terror creeped into your thoughts, creating your own personal hell. Waller was exactly the type of person to suspect the worst from.

“I’ve had that happen to my Corps back when I was exclusively in Special Forces. We did well on a few extremely difficult missions, so some influential old guy decided we could be used in more creative ways.”

“Do you think she wants to get me to some other area? A different type of mission could mean anything with me, she could even sell me to some rich bastards on the other side of the globe if she decided it would pay off…”

“Stop it, no one is going to sell you-...”

“I’m a metahuman, Rick. I’m not in any records, I don’t even have human rights. You know how easy it would be to just hand me over to-...”

He pulled back and cut you off with a kiss before you fell too deep into speculations. He understood how scary it was from his own experience - the lack of any certainty, the thoughts analyzing one bad option after another with no way out.

He held your face in his hands, the contrast between his rough palms and your soft skin wonderfully intoxicating. Your foreheads touched.

“I will not let anything happen to you,” he promised in a barely audible whisper. “Amanda Waller is not almighty and she can’t do whatever she chooses to. She still needs the approval of many parties. The only thing she can do tomorrow is show you to them and show off what she’s got up her sleeve. I still know people here and there, I can pull some strings if she goes too far.”

“That’s not good either. I’m not her toy to just bring in front of some old disgusting men to look me up and down. Besides, they must’ve already read my files, they don’t need me in person.”

“Reading about something that may just as well be a lie and seeing it with their own eyes is different. And I know, it’s not fair, but we need to endure this. I’ll be there with you, I won’t leave you. We can make it,” tenderness in his words made you smile weakly.

“You sound so sure about it.”

“Of course I do. Don’t you trust me?”

“You know that’s not the issue. God, I just can’t stop thinking about it. Let’s order something to eat and watch something stupid. I need to take my mind off of this crap.”

Half an hour later, you were laying on his chest, trying to focus on anything other than the crippling sense of not having control over whatever happens tomorrow. Flag was right - you were an important asset in Waller’s sleeve and she wouldn’t want to lose or give you up. But there always was something hidden in all her moves, any decision she made gave something else to her. She was intelligent and cunning, but above all - greedy. You were actually surprised she didn’t chain you to herself or Flag already.

Even the close proximity to Flag didn’t help to calm your mind completely. It was a strange feeling to know what you have been feeling for him for the past months was reciprocated. It warmed you, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ease into it completely - not as long as whatever Waller had planned for you became clear. What if she wanted to separate you? Send you off far away for God knows how long? She could do that and wouldn’t even bat an eye.

“Don’t think about it,” Rick’s voice cut through your intrusive thoughts as if he could hear them. You could feel it vibrating in his chest. “You will never guess what she’s on to.”

“I hate dressing up. How can you be so calm?”

“I’ll come prepared.”

“Wait,” something struck you out of nowhere. “If you go with me, does that mean you’re going to clean shave?”

“Among… other things,” he admitted, taken away by the train of thought you used. “I actually had a little different kind of preparation in mind, you know?”

“Maybe, but I’ve never seen you without the mustache.”

“Don’t you like it?” he asked cautiously, licking it with the tip of his tongue absentmindedly- a nervous tick you noticed a long time ago.

“I’m just curious.”

Dressing up felt ridiculous, but you wanted to at least look presentable. Tugging on clothes you’ve only ever worn once in your life, you wished for everything to just end already. Nerves were eating you alive, only worsened by the ascetic corridors full of soldiers you had been walked through. Having Flag by your side was the only thing keeping you from fleeing that place.

When you were told to enter the room, all the eyes inside plastered to you, judging and heavy. Flag gripped your hand one last time before Waller gestured for you to come closer to her on top of the giant table. The variety of people sitting by the other sides had only one thing in common and it was their distrust towards you. You could feel its presence in the air, just like the expensive, suffocating scent of Waller’s perfume. It was the first time since she made you join Suicide Squad that you were standing so close to her. The anger raised in you once again - you could kill her with just one slip of your hand, show all those generals, politicians, and fat cats that you did not belong to her, that you were more than she could ever comprehend or tame…

Some of your thoughts must have slipped on your face, because when you glanced over the heads of the Comitee to Flag, he quickly shook his head, warning you not to do anything stupid. His eyes were wide and fixed entirely on you, but you were sure he already memorized the placement of all the security agents inside the room. He looked strange without his uniform, dressed in a well-tailored suit like a completely different person. His gun had been taken away before you even entered the building, but you were sure if you decided to break your strings, he’d follow and protect you. All you had to do was just snap her neck…

He shook his head again. One of the security guards eyed him suspiciously.

Waller cleared her throat. She must have said something.

Turning your gaze, you decided to wait. It wasn’t the right time.

Waller’s eyes were cold and threatening. She didn’t like being ignored.

“How about a little sample of what we are talking about?” she asked with a voice so sweet it made you nauseous.

“Of course,” was all you said, though. You could kill her any other day, not here and now, where Flag could get in the crossfire.

Flag wanted to bite his nails, watching you show your powers in front of the Comitee. He knew you well enough to see how close you were to attacking Waller and everyone in the room. If he only could, he’d yell at them to make them stop whispering and snickering - you could hear everything and it surely wasn’t helping you stay calm.

He practically ran to you the moment Waller dismissed you. He put an arm around you, clearly feeling the tension in your muscles. He didn’t even look back, completely focused on taking you home as fast as possible.

After the door closed behind you, Waller let a smile grow on her face. She looked like a cat with a bird in its fangs.

“You see now, general,” she turned to the man on her left. “I have everything under control.”

He didn’t seem convinced, wiping the sweat away from his brow.

“For a moment I was sure we’d have a massacre here,” he admitted and the rest of the crowd followed.

“Dog needs its fangs to bite. You can’t break them and hope it’ll still kill your enemies.”

“But you still need a leash-...”

“And that’s exactly what I have,” Waller had abruptly cut him off, raising her chin towards the exit you and Flag used a few minutes ago. “Flag controls the mutant, caring for its well-being more than I hoped for. And I control the bomb planted in its neck.”

One of the woman frowned with disbelief,” You couldn’t have possibly predict they would-...”

“I could and I did. That’s my job,” Waller added proudly, looking through the faces of the Comitee and the others. “This is my offer. As long as I’m the head of this project, I’ll personally keep a close eye on anything that happens inside of it. You’ve just witnessed what I can do.”

“Through manipulation,” said one of the politicians.

“None of us would be sitting where we are now if we didn’t use any means possible to achieve our position, ” Waller pointed out coldly.

The Comitee erupted in anxious whispers and quick glances, agitated by everything they’ve witnessed. Waller stood calmly at one end of the table with an unreadable face, not letting her guard fall down for even a second. A smile tried to creep onto her lips, but she quickly stifled it. Even though the people were skeptical, she already knew how they would vote. What she had just shown them was pure power over the entity that was way more than just human, and greed always won the hearts of humans.

After all, it was always about the power.

[thedistantstorm]

Through the Stomach

04: Alinazik

Zavala x Hawthorne (Steelponcho) | A Love Story told through Food | Hawthorne is a foodie | Zavala can’t cook to save his life | Begrudging Allies to Friends to Lovers | The Farm, The Red War, The City, and everything in-between | the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach | Eventual NSFW (will be tagged)

Previously

-/

He’s not a picky eater. In fact, she's reasonably certain that he does not view eating as more than a necessary function for maintaining life. Or, alternatively, for entertaining guests who come to petition him for either support or political favors.

She is no stranger to either of these sentiments. There was an entire year that her diet was made up of wild ferret. After a while, it's just another chore to find and provide oneself with sustenance. And, of course, as a child, her pseudo-parents entertained colleagues and superior officers in attempts to land deals and make good impressions.

But, if there's one thing Devrim and Marc also exposed her to, it was enjoying food, be it a delicacy or a common comfort. There's nothing comforting about ration bars and food gel unless you're starving. She knows that first hand.

It's the reason why she's arranged this meeting. Suraya Hawthorne just isn't a calendars and meeting kind of gal - at least she wasn't, until someone handed her this data-pad and it came with this handy little calendar for all the things the Vanguard, Consensus, and City Admin invited her to. Apparently, it was also the only way to get more than a greeting out of the good Commander.

Not that she's missed his face or anything like that. That has nothing to do with her insisting on a late meeting, following a jam-packed day for him - seems rather invasive that one can see all the time-slots someone has for a day - with a request to discuss expenditures for refugee relocation. She won’t be mentioning that she's bailed on the meeting she has before theirs (if she can answer in a message, she's not traveling across town, her tablet also has a video call function if it's that important) to bring him some real food.

It doesn't matter that it cost her a small fortune to get the cut of lamb from the only butcher up and running in the City, she knows good comfort food. And she knows he could use it. She hasn't seen him in weeks except in meetings or in passing. He doesn't look like he's taking care of himself.

He wasn't taking care of himself before, either. Idiot.

And, to be fair, she doesn't need that much help with expenditures, anyway. The Clans take care of their own, and City Government has been generous. Though, she's sure he'll want to discuss it anyway. He is far too straight laced to let their formal meeting turn into... a social visit? That’s probably the best way to put it.

Technically, they’re friends.

-/

He is twenty minutes late to their meeting (it's in his office), and looks considerably haggard by her estimation by the time she sees him striding toward her in a hurry. “I should have told you to come late,” He says, in lieu of greeting her. “I am never on time when I have this many meetings.” His eyes are so expressive, even if the rest of him stays stoic and firm.

It hits her hard, how much she's missed him. They were practically attached at the hip toward the end of the war, and things spiraled into chaos quickly following Ghaul’s defeat. It hasn’t been just the two of them in over a month?

“It's fine,” She replies, tipping her head to the side. She had figured the reason there were chairs and a nice couch outside the door were for his influx of visitors. “Really. This won't take long anyway.”

“If you have somewhere to be-” His Ghost appears, unlocking the door before flickering out of sight again. He turns back as his little partner does her thing, falling silent when he notices Hawthorne carefully balancing her tablet atop a blue, yellow, and orange patterned thermal bag. He sighs, as if she’s unraveled some great puzzle and figured him out. Relieved, it seems that she clearly planned on staying a bit.

“This calendar business is really intrusive, you know,” She smirks at him. The tablet wobbles, threatening to fall from where it's perched and he snatches it. “I know everything you're doing, all the time.”

He jumps headlong into their banter, quipping, “Spying on me?”

“Actually, no. Your calendar is shared with me.”

“Yes,” He confirms. “You, Cayde, Ikora, and Amanda. I believe you can set it however you wish.”

“Huh.”

He smiles then, still really only with his eyes, and leads her to the work table in the center of his office. She sets down what she's brought and makes a quick check of the contents before pulling them out.

“What is-”

“Long story short,” She says, handing him his own cutlery as he sits down across from her, “The Clans don't need any monetary support from the Consensus or the Vanguard at this juncture.” She hears the snuff, the carefully toned-down snort of the Commander. “Don't laugh at me. You sic me in this arena, I'm gonna start using your fancy lingo.”

“Of course,” He concedes easily. “Since there is nothing pressing, am I correct in assuming we can move on to more important matters?”

She nods, eyebrows rising and falling as she begins divvying up containers.

“What have you brought?” He wonders, concerned. Perhaps also a bit awed. Good. He should be grateful, she thinks. And also, maybe going this route was a little over the top.

“Alinazik,” She tells him, and resists the urge to laugh when he looks at her like she’s speaking in tongues. “Lamb kebab, aubergine, tomato, yogurt. Little bit of spice in the pepper.”

“Lamb?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. Okay?”

He nods, but continues, confused. “Suraya there’s nowhere in this city that-”

“There is actually one butcher, who I saw this afternoon in the market. Beside the point. Food’s getting cold.” She pops the lid on the container of meat. “Zavala. We’re not in the wilds. You think I was going to go hunt you another deer? I think we’ve had enough venison for a while.”

“Of course you made this.”

“It’s amazing what I can do with a real kitchen,” She grouses. “Clearly you barely know how to use a microwave.”

He frowns down at the containers, which makes her sigh and pull them back her way. “My position does not exactly allow for culinary mastery,” He admits. “This smells divine. Is that mint?”

“Well I’ll be,” She says, in mock surprise, looking up at him with a playful smirk. She’s just finished arranging the meal on his plate and hands it over. “Seems you might not be as hopeless as I thought.”

He laughs, and it’s impossible for her not to follow suit. “I’ve missed this,” he confesses, when it fades into the quiet scrape of forks against their plates.

“It’s not the same,” She agrees.

“That is - I mean,” He frowns, before looking up at her. “I’ve missed you.”

“Good to know.” Hawthorne’s dark eyes soften, looking down at her meal with a sort of hazy smile before she meets his gaze again. “Glad it’s not just me.”

[islareeveswriting]

STORY PAGE

PREVIOUS | NEXT

INSTAS

The deep end was a scary place to be.

Molly found she didn’t mind it too much normally, when it came to things like uni work. In fact she found she quite liked it when it came to uni work. She thrived off having lots to do, a little stress seemed to make her work harder and better, and maybe it drained her a bit, made her feel a little more tired, and a little more glad when it was all over, it also meant the pay off felt far better. Molly was well rehearsed at keeping herself afloat at the deep end.

However, stood on the sidelines of the rugby pitch between Amanda and Katie, with Zak on her hip, Molly realised how she’d never truly been out of her depth enough to appreciate the deep end for what it was. Thrown in didn’t cut it. She hadn’t even seen Harry before the game started, she just turned up at the rugby club, as instructed, at the time Harry had told her, and hoped she saw Amanda, or Amanda saw her before anyone began to notice she was a little out of her comfort zone. Luckily Amanda had spotted her from the other side of the club house and beckoned her over before anyone else in the room seemed to have even realised Molly had arrived.

After discussing Molly’s sketches and ideas for what turned out to be nearly an hour, Molly had asked Harry to stay, he’d happily agreed, a bright smile creeping onto his face quietly, attempting subtlety but not quite managing to. Strangely Molly felt more nervous about spending the night with Harry in that bed than she had at her parents house. It was a good nervous though, an excited nervous, the kind she quite liked and made her feel zingy. She’d been like a giggly teenager when she’d crawled in beside Harry who was wearing only a pair of jersey shorts and his boxers under her sheets, her face clean and hair brushed, unable to to bite the coy smile back as Harry wrapped an arm over her middle, pulling her closer until there was barely any space between them at all, just enough so they could look at each other as they whispered quietly through the darkness.

It was as they laid there, fighting tiredness and their bodies desire to sleep, too caught up in their quiet conversation and the way their eyes glittered in the dark of the room, that Harry asked if he wanted to attend the annual Charity gala with him at the rugby club. Molly’s heart sped up at first. That sounded important, and not at all like taking it slow, but he’d asked, and she calmed as he went onto explain it a little more. It was quite a casual affair, Harry would have to wear a jacket of some kind as was tradition after a game, but it never lasted long, there’d be a raffle, some food, stupid games, just a general good time. But more than that, Harry wanted her there with him and that made Molly feel some sort of way that was only another signal that things weren’t going as slowly as had been insinuated in the car a few days prior.

Just over a week later, and Molly was stood on the side of a rugby pitch for the first time in her life, with two of Harry’s good friends, following suit and cheering as they did, slowly getting her head around what was going on and the basic rules. Even Zak seemed to have more of an idea what was going as he squealed for ‘daddy’ everytime Joe got the ball and pushed through the other teams players being dragged to the floor. Harry grabbed it out after every tackle and passed it out to another player, most of whom Molly didn’t know. Shane was on their side of the pitch, running up and down the side, moving into the centre, but mostly staying on the edge of the pitch, whereas Niall only stayed in the middle and kicked the ball over the post after every try. Though there’d only been two of those, none scored by anyone Molly knew, but she cheered with the others, and Zak who clapped along happily.

Molly was still trying to work out how the scrum worked when the whistle cried loudly over all other sounds, even that of her whirring mind. She twisted her head to the noise, a gang of men from both teams engaged in what looked like quite an angry altercation. Harry was in the centre, squared up to a man much larger than him in every possible way, their foreheads practically touching as if they were a pair of fighting bulls. Molly wasn’t entirely sure why she was so surprised, but she did gasp a little as Shane pulled Harry roughly away and marched him away as the other team chuckled to themselves. Molly could tell Shane was having stern words with Harry, but she suspected it was as more than just as team captain.

“Typical Harry,” Katie chuckled from beside Molly, shaking her head a little as she did so. “He’s gonna end up in trouble before long,” She continued. Molly listened but didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask the questions on the tip of her tongue, simply because she felt like she probably knew the answer. It wasn’t exactly a secret Harry had a tendency to let anger get the better of him if the situation was right, and his buttons were pushed enough. Molly imagined that on the rugby pitch, with testosterone coursing through him, hoping to win, that the buttons were a little easier to find.

“Ah, he’s no worse than any of the others really,” Amanda shrugged off, eyes glued to the pitch. Molly glanced to Amanda out of the side of her eye, and she felt Katie twist her head, but Amanda never turned to look at either of them, firm in her statement, and not about to back down under the cold glare Molly could feel from the other side of her. Before anymore could be said on the matter, Amanda was screaming again, cheering Harry’s name loudly. Molly flicked her eyes to the pitch, to see Harry flying down the side line, darting around a couple of the opposing team and diving over the try line, slamming the ball to the floor before hopping to his feet and jumping to the air just as Niall crashed into him to celebrate.

“Yay Uncle Harry,” Zak cried and Molly chuckled, cheering with him as she bounced Zak on her hip.

The rest of the game was largely undramatic. No more fights, but a couple more points for both sides. When the final whistle sounded, after Niall had booted the ball out of play, the homeside were three points ahead. Molly smiled on as she watched them celebrate, hugging and laughing, shaking hands politely with the other team members. Harry caught Molly’s eye as he pulled out of a hug with a member of his own team that Molly didn’t know and winked before strolling over to her. It had been a wet week, and as a consequence Harry was coated in mud. It was stuck in his hair, slathered down one side of his face and embedded into his knees.

“You need a shower,” Molly chuckled once Harry was close enough to hear. The offence ran over his face quickly, bottom lip pouting and eyebrows dipping.

“Your man has just won, he scored a try, and you’re telling me I need a shower?” Harry pouted, “You’re meant to be going weak at the knees.” Molly laughed and shook her head as Harry leant over the rope that kept the spectators from the pitch to give her a kiss.

“Ewww,” Zak wailed, pushing away from Molly’s chest, attempting to get as far from the display of affection as possible.

“Oh Zakky, what’s up, you jealous?” Harry asked, pouting his lips dramatically and leering closer to the toddler who only backed further away as he did so. “So what did you think?” Harry asked, turning attention to Molly again, Zak refusing to entertain Harry’s jokes.

“Was good, enjoyed it,” Molly smiled nodding.

“You’d come again?” Harry asked hopefully, eyes widening and brightening a little.

“Yeah, if you wanted me to,” Molly told him, nodding still.

“I’d like you to want to,” Harry told her quietly, leaning closer still, as close as he could without falling over the rope completely.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers Styles,” Molly jested playfully, a little smirk pulling at one corner of her mouth. Again Harry’s bottom lip pouted a little and the space between his eyebrows creased. “So you are gonna shower?”

“Definitely,” Harry laughed, “Got a suit to put on,” Harry reminded her. It wasn’t a full suit, but Molly had helped him choose a jacket out of his vast collection of suits to wear with his black jeans after the game. Molly had been a little surprised at just how extensive, and well curated his suit collection was, but one in particular stood out. It was a mixture of earth tones arranged in an eye catching geometric pattern that send Molly’s mind into a spin. It had to be that one. “Go get yourself a drink, I won’t be long,” Harry promised.

“Do you want anything?” Molly offered beginning to back away from the rope.

“It’s ok, there’ll be beer in the changing room, I’ll get one with you once I’m dressed,” Harry told her, and Molly nodded before turning to find Amanda and Katie, strolling towards the clubhouse with the pram that Zak had gotten out of within five minutes of the game starting and not looked at again.

Once inside, and back with Katie and Amanda, Molly put Zak down and offered the other two girls a drink. They both accepted, Amanda asking for a bottled beer and Katie for a glass of wine. Molly knew which she’d choose, deciding the first time socialising with all Harry’s rugby friends was not an evening to drink wine. The bar was heaving but Molly found a little space to squeeze into, keeping herself to herself nad waiting for one of the three bar staff to get to her. She knew what it was like to work a bar that busy, she wasn’t about to get impatient.

“You being served?” Molly looked to the voice, a rotund elderly man looking at her and pointing.

“No, erm,” Molly hesitated, checking the stock of beer in the fridge behind the man, “Two coronas and a large glass of Pinot please?” Molly asked, falling back to the floor from her tiptoes.

“Not seen you around here before, new girlfriend is it?” The man asked as he grabbed the two bottles and popped the tops from them. There was a crease between his eyebrows and it was very clear to Molly that he was used to knowing ever person that came in and out of the doors of that place.

“Erm, well,” Molly hesitated because girlfriend wasn’t exactly the right word, in fact it was far from the right word. “I’m here with Harry -Styles,” Molly added quickly, just in case though the slight smirk told Molly she needn’t have worried.

“Ah, young Harold, I see,” The man smiled, nodding as he unwound the top from a bottle of wine. “About time he found himself a girlfriend.”

“Oh, no, we’re not, I’m not..” Molly flustered, it was hard to explain and she could feel her cheeks getting pink.

“Not what? He’s brought you here, so you must be something,” The man told her, and Molly swallowed on nothing, not entirely sure what she was meant to say, mainly because she didn’t really know what her and Harry were.

It hadn’t bothered her until then, hadn’t concerned her even an iota until she was trying to find the words to explain their situation. They’d moved on from just friends but hadn’t settled on something else yet. That suited her, them, perfectly, they knew the feelings it didn’t need a name. But it was hard to explain it to anyone else, particularly a nearly elderly man Molly didn’t know. “Seeing each other is it?” He asked, and Molly nodded, supposing that was it. “Well he must like ya, no lad would bring a girl in here unless he was serious,” The man, whose name Molly nearly asked for, but didn’t, informed her, and there wasn’t a hint of a joke in his voice. Molly just smiled, because she couldn’t help the little bit inside her that quite liked the idea of that. “Bill by the way,” The man told Molly before asking for her money, Molly smiled grateful he seemed to have read her mind.

Molly handed money over to Bill and took the drinks over the table that Katie and Amanda had occupied. She handed them out and took the seat next to Katie, it wasn’t purposeful, but once she was in it, Molly hoped it might make Katie warm a little more to her. It wasn’t quite as icy as it had been in the cafe, perhaps Katie was happier now things were becoming a little more serious, but still there was the odd look that set Molly on edge and made her feel a little uncomfortable.

“So things are going well with Harry?” Amanda asked, her lips popping around the edge of the bottle when she took a large sip.

“Yeah,” Molly said with a nod and a smile. “Taking it slow, seeing how things go, but so far, so good,” Molly explained, lifting her own bottle to her lips and taking a sip.

“That’s a good idea, don’t want to rush into things, make sure you really know each other first,” Katie smiled, and Molly appreciated what sounded like a supportive sentiment.

“Yeah, exactly,” Molly nodded, and Katie offered a small smile, something a little sympathetic about it before she took a mouthful of her wine. The conversation moved on from there naturally, the three of them chatting just generally about everything and anything until men started filtering out into the bar area from the changing rooms, lugging kit bags and dressed in casual suits, mostly smart blazer jackets and trousers of some kind. Shane appeared first, a pair of dark trousers on and a blazer that blended well with them.

“Evening ladies,” Shane grinned, that bright, Hollywood smile that would have made Molly weak at the knees if she wasn’t waiting for one she thought was better. He bent and kissed them all on the cheek sweetly. “That jacket of Harry’s is wild,” Shane chuckled looking at Molly as he attempted to clasp his watch together.

“It’s good isn’t it?” Molly grinned, to which Shane nodded, still concentrating on his watch. “Do you want a hand?” Molly offered, sitting up a little and reaching her hands to his wrist.

“Oh thanks Mol,” Shane breathed lowering his wrist so she could get her hands to him. “Hand got trodden on and fingers aren’t quite working yet,” he chuckled lowly as Molly clipped the clasp together and adjusted his jacket sleeve a little so it was sitting how it was designed to.  “Getting us all dressed is it?”

“Well if you’re gonna wear a jacket, may as well wear it properly,” Molly winked earning a laugh from those in ear shot. Shane offered a drink which they all declined thanks to their freshly bought round, and disappeared over to the bar. “I was terrified of him when I first met him,” Molly admitted quietly, causing Amanda to laugh.

“Everyone is,” Katie told her with a grin. “He’s a puppy dog though when you get to know him,” She went on, glancing over her shoulder at Shane. “Wildly protective of Harry though,” Katie frowned, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Amanda straighten.

“Why?” Molly asked, eyes narrowing and flicking between the two women. No one said anything for a good ten seconds, and Molly didn’t miss the look between Amanda and Katie, jaws tense and Amanda’s nostrils flinching a little.

“Guess he just feels like his big brother? After the stuff with his dad and things,” Amanda explained, and Molly could get that. It explained the look as well, perhaps they weren’t sure how much Molly knew, but the way she accepted the explanation obviously told them that she knew just enough for it to make sense.

Slowly the rest of the players trickled out of the changing rooms, Harry was one of the last. Molly caught him out of the corner of her eye before he saw her, and took the opportunity to check him out. Her eyes lifted up his body, from the black leather boots he had on, over the skinny jeans, that were fairly new and blacker than the ones he normally wore. There was a leather belt holding them up that looked worn and well used, undone and tightened again  enough to leave permanent creases in the leather. The black shirt he’d opted for was tucked into the jeans, buttoned up to his throat, the collar perfectly ironed and firm around his neck.

But the jacket stole the show. Molly was sure about it when she saw it in his wardrobe, but on his body it was even better. It was like it was made for him. It wrapped his arms snugly, but not too tight that it looked uncomfortable, it cleared his shoulders nicely and only emphasised just how broad he was. The jacket was unbuttoned and Molly watched as he reached into the pocket of it, pulling out his rings and beginning to slide them onto his fingers as he walked. Molly watched for a second before finding his face, only to discover she’d been well and truly caught checking him out. Harry just offered a smirk and a wink before beginning to greet the group, leaving Molly blushing and sipping her beer to try and cool her cheeks.

“Afternoon all.” Harry’s voice was rougher than normal as he threw his bag to the floor and kicked it under the table beside Molly before bending at the hip to capture her lips in a quick kiss. If anyone really took any notice of it they didn’t show it, but it only intensified the blush that was lingering under Molly’s cheeks. “Want another drink love?” Harry asked, delving into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his wallet.

“Sure, I’ll give you a hand,” Molly told him, getting to her feet and finishing the last of her beer quickly.

“Easy love, we don’t want a repeat of your birthday,” Harry jested with a wink.

“No, you just don’t want me kissing Niall again, might realise what I’m missing,” Molly rose quickly, leaving Harry a little gobsmacked as the rest of the table chuckled lowly. “Drinks then,” Harry just nodded quietly, offering the others a drink before leading the way to the bar.

It was quieter than when Molly had ventured up there earlier, only a few people stood around it, and less than that actually waiting to be served. Harry walked straight up and leaned against the old wooden top, stained and marked from years of use. He hardly even acknowledged that Molly moved in to stand next to him, flicking his eyes to her, but never looking properly. Molly could feel it, the corner of a wedge between them and she rolled her eyes at it, smirking to herself.

“Really?” She asked, unable to not be amused. “You really ignoring me now?”

“Well why did you have to say that?” Harry returned quickly and a little viciously. His eyes were dark and his voice was a low rumble, disguised from any eavesdroppers by the music that was playing. Molly just shook her head and turned to catch the attention of Bill, or one of the other two bar staff, though all of them were serving other people. “Was out of order,” Harry added.

“But it’s ok for you to try and make me look a dick?” Molly retaliated quickly twisting her neck back to Harry. She wondered if it was obvious they were having a disagreement, she could bet it was. Harry’s body was stiff, his jaw bitten tight and her eyes kept narrowing in his direction.

“That’s different,” Harry mumbled.

“Really? How?”

“Because I’m not threatening to kiss someone else,” Harry pointed out. There wasn’t a doubt that if the room hadn’t been packed he’d have raised his voice, but instead he spoke through a clenched jaw, his teeth bitten together, his tongue hitting the back of them as pushed his words out of his throat.

“If you honestly think I’d do that you don’t know me very well,” Molly spurred, turning away from Harry again, admittedly a little hurt.

“Well, you did it to Ryan,” Harry reminded her, as if she needed reminding. No matter what Ryan had done, before or after they’d broken up, it didn’t take away from the fact she’d kissed someone else when they were together. No matter what happened from there, she doubted she’d be able to forgive herself. It was something she swore she’d never do, and no matter how many times Lauren told it was just a kiss, it was nothing, and no matter how much she knew how little it meant, it didn’t feel any better.

“Don’t use that against me Harry,” Molly murmured, sucking her cheeks in.

“Well don’t use it against me then,” Harry returned.

“Against you? Exactly how was I using it against you, you were the one who-”

“You have absolutely no idea how soul destroying it was to see you kissing my best mate do you?” Harry cut in quickly. Molly froze and closed her hanging jaw slowly pinching her lips together, if she’d been expecting him to say anything, it hadn’t been that. Harry sucked his teeth and shook his head. “Thought so.” Molly wasn’t sure what to say, whether an apology was more fitting, or just silent contemplation of what he’d said. It sunk in quickly, and it ached as it did it. Molly had her lips pinched together and she stared at the bar, picking at a blob of candle wax that had obviously dripped onto the wood at some point. “Look,” Harry started with a breath, “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but I hate when you joke about that because it really got to me when it happened, and does a bit now too.”

“Why?” Molly asked quietly.

“Cause I really fucking liked you and you were kissing my best mate, why’d you think?” Harry told her honestly, Molly just shrugged, swallowing on nothing. It felt bad enough she’d done it anyway, now it felt worse. “I hate that you kissed him before you even thought about kissing me.”

“That’s not true,” Molly pointed out quickly, and it took Harry back. “I’d thought about kissing you, long before I kissed Niall.” Molly explained before Harry could ask what she was talking about. There was a smug smirk that crawled onto Harry’s face seemingly pleased with himself. “Don’t look so smug,” Molly tutted shaking her head.

“Well that makes it a little bit better,” Harry pondered, letting his tongue hang from one of his canine teeth.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look Harry, even on you,” Molly told him, finally catching the eye of the only woman working behind the bar.

“Everything’s a good look on me love,” Harry jested, turning as the woman got closer. “Alright Jackie, can I get…” Harry began to list of their order Molly looking at him as he did so, pondering what had just happened. As Jackie set about getting their order together, Harry looked back down at Molly. “What?” He asked with a grin.

“Can’t keep up with you, we’ve gone from arguing about a comment, to you being all smug and happy with yourself in two minutes, I don’t know if I’m coming or going,” Molly told him, and Harry chuckled though she wasn’t sure she was amused.

“Well, would you rather that, or let it ruin the night and be miserable?” Harry asked, and Molly supposed that was fair enough. “Look, I get jealous, I like you, so I get jealous, I’m a narcissist, I’m an arse hole, I know, and I’m sorry but I really like you Lol, really fucking like you, and I’m trying so hard not to be a narcissitc arse hole, cause I really don’t want to fuck this up,” Harry explained, and Molly huffed a laugh. “I’m failing right now, I know.”

“Don’t change, you’re not fucking it up,” Molly told him with a creeping smile. It was so wildly different to anything Molly had ever known and thrill of it was far better than any security or safety she’d gotten used to in the past. There was no doubt Harry wasn’t going to her hurt her in anyway, but he kept her guessing with everything else, and Molly found herself falling for it. “Kiss me?” She asked sweetly.

“As if you have to ask,” Harry chuckled, leaning forward and tipping Molly’s chin with his finger and thumb and catching her poised lips with his. It was a little intimate for the setting but neither seemed to care, not immediately anyway.

“Come on Styles, leave it til you get her home,” Jackie piped up, forcing them away from one another with a blush on Molly’s part and a laugh on Harry’s. “Seventeen eighty then ta,” Jackie told Harry, who started working on getting money out of his wallet as Molly began to carry drinks over to the table.

Once both back at the table, Harry and Molly took the seats next to one another, both with quietly pleased smiles on their faces as they took sips from their drinks and Harry reached under the table to put his hand on her thigh. No one even batted an eye lid as they shuffled closer to one another, too caught up in the conversation that was circling the table. Harry’s fingers were drawing patterns near Molly’s knee delicately enough that it tickled her skin through her jeans. Before Harry’s hand on her leg or around her own hand had been simply a source of comfort, an acknowledgement they were in it together. It still held that too, it still felt comforting and reassuring, but it was more than that. They were still in it together, but also it was a declaration that they were together, and Harry wasn’t afraid to touch her, or kiss her, or show any kind of affection in front of anyone. His hand was hidden by the table, but Molly had no doubt, if the table wasn’t there, his hand would still be resting over her leg, and tracing over her jeans to send tingles through her.

It felt like the mood had changed, at least to Molly. Things felt different to how they had initially. Neither of them were quite as tentative or nervous about stepping forward for what they wanted from the other. There were moments that felt a lot more primal and intuitive than the practiced steps they’d been taking in the moments after their first kiss. The way Harry pulled Molly’s body tighter to his, trying to get as much of his skin against her as possible, ensuring she could feel every part of him. The way she asked for a kiss, and didn’t shy from letting her breath tickle over his puckered lips as she stepped back down, hoping to leave him wanting more.

There was a conversation Molly was sure they had to have, though simultaneously she wasn’t entirely sure they did have to have it. With Ryan, they’d discussed it, it was her first time and she wanted it to be clear that she wasn’t rushing. It was very obvious Molly and Harry weren’t going to be each other’s firsts when they got to that point, and that was new to Molly. It made her nervous, not being sure whether to bring it up, to ask, or to just let it happen when they both wanted it to. Of course she trusted Harry completely, that wasn’t even something she was questioning, she knew he wouldn’t judge her or laugh at her, but it didn’t take away from how nervous bringing it up made her feel.

A gentle squeeze of her thigh bought Molly out of her thoughts, and she looked to Harry offering him a smile that matched the one he was giving her. Of course he could see she was getting into her head about something, and Molly could tell by the way his eyes flicked a little narrower for a second that he was trying to work out why. Molly tried to reassure him, widening her smile and a small shake of her head. Harry just bit his cheek though, and didn’t return his attention to the group until Molly had.

“Where are the toilets?” Molly asked, reaching forward and putting her bottle on the table.

“I’ll show you, need to go anyway,” Katie smiled, getting to her feet. Molly felt her tummy tighten, she couldn’t help it, Katie was intimidating and being alone with her made her a little nervous, but Molly just nodded and got to her feet, looking back to Harry as she followed Katie towards a door at the back of the room. He just chuckled quietly, noticing the tension Molly was holding.

The two women didn’t talk as they walked to the toilet, or once they’d locked themselves in separate cubicles. Molly wondered what the protocol was. Should she wait for Katie if she was done first, would Katie wait for her? Normally Molly would wait behind for her friends, but they were a gaggle of university girls often in club toilets together, not barely acquaintances in an antiquated rugby club.

Molly was done first, and she washed her hands slowly, hoping she wouldn’t have to make the decision and Katie would appear from her cubicle as she held her hands under the dryer. Luckily it worked, and Katie smiled as she caught Molly’s eye. Now Molly knew it was protocol to wait, she couldn’t just walk out the door without Katie now Katie was at the sink washing her hands. Molly stood patiently by the door, folding her lips together trying to think of something to say.

“-So-”

“-Sorry,” Katie spoke over Molly, though not intentionally. They chuckled quietly, and Molly motioned for Katie to carry on. “Sorry if I came across like a bitch,” Katie continued, wiping her semi-dry hands on her blue jeans.

“No, don’t be silly,” Molly brushed it off, obviously not about to tell Katie how uncomfortable she’d made Molly feel at brunch a couple of weeks previous.

“You don’t have to be nice, I know I come across cold, I’m not stupid,” Katie laughed, and Molly just shrugged not entirely sure what to say. “Was a bit of a shock Harry bought someone along to be honest,” Katie went on, and it was suddenly clear they weren’t about to just walk straight back out of the toilets, and perhaps Katie had been wanting to get Molly alone for a little longer than Molly had realised. “We never really even hear about girls he’s with, or at least Amanda and I don’t, he tells the lads about his conquests, but it’s normally just sex,” Katie shrugged as Molly tried not to feel uncomfortable. She shifted her weight and cleared her throat. “Of course, I’m not saying that’s all he’s with you for, obviously it’s not,” Molly nodded, though she couldn’t help the feeling that even if that wasn’t what Katie was saying, that she was putting the idea in Molly’s head by saying the words.

“No, of course not,” Molly smiled, before sucking her cheeks in and tilting her head. “Just, well, I’m not sure what you are trying to say,” Molly chuckled sarcastically. There was no doubt Katie could feel the tension she’d built up, but it was impossible to tell if she was enjoying it.

“You seem like a really lovely girl, everyone really likes you, just Harry has a tendency to lead people on, and you should know that,” Katie told Molly, stepping forward. Molly folded her arms across her chest and stood a little taller. It was very clear what Katie was getting at and she didn’t like it. The majority of her couldn’t believe it, not after how well Harry had, for the most part, treated her. But there was the tiniest bit of her that was starting to panic that her instinct that it was all too good to be true, might have been right. “If you want my opinion-”

“I don’t, I have my own, thanks,” Molly bit in, and turned for the door and moved to pull it, though Katie stepped in and held it closed.

“Well, I hope you know exactly what it is you’re getting into then,” Katie hissed before letting the door go so Molly could wrench it open. Molly could feel her hands trembling and she scraped them through her hair before she opened the second door back to the bar area, holding it open for Katie. There was no way she was willing to let it get under her skin, but at the very least, she didn’t want Harry to see it. So she smiled and walked beside Katie back to the table.

“Actually I’m going to be modelling for Lolly’s new project,” Molly heard Harry announce as they got closer to the table and Katie re-took her seat. Molly just smiled as Harry looked to her, but she began rummaging around in the pockets of her coat, not willing to take her seat again just yet.

“Ooo, get you,” Amanda cooed, bouncing Zak on her knee, suddenly tired and back from wherever he’d been. “What’s the project?” Amanda asked, turning her attention to Molly. Molly felt the spotlight, and cleared her throat, glancing at Amanda but not holding her eyes for any length of time, getting straight back to what she was looking for.

“It’s a tailoring project,” Molly mumbled, moving to the other pocket.

“Tell them about the ideas,” Harry gushed, nuding her arm a little with his elbow as he did so. The grin was welded into his tone of voice, Molly could hear it loud and clear.

“No Harry,” Molly sighed, giving up with her pockets and grabbing her bag from under her chair to look through it. The tote was large for where she found herself, but she’d come from the library where she’d been looking for references for an essay she was nearly finished with, and it was full with all kinds of things, making the search for the pack of cigarettes, she knew she’d picked up, harder than it should have been. They were left on the side from a housemate night out two nights previous. Jimmy and her had gone halves and there were three left in the pack of ten, all of them hers. At first she told herself she didn’t need them, and she didn’t. But she knew she’d be drinking, and the way Katie’s words had left her reeling, she was glad she’d grabbed them in a last minute panic and thrown them into her bag. Though she wished she had indeed put them in her pocket the way she’d intended as she swore she felt every pair of eyes on her.

“What? Why?” Harry quizzed quickly.

“They don’t want to hear about all that, it’s boring,” Molly hissed, flicking her eyes to Harry from her bag for a second.

“I’d like to hear,” Katie piped up from where she was sat. Molly turned her glare to Katie, Rich’s arm wrapped around the back of her chair. Molly wondered if he knew what his fiance had planned on telling Molly, or even if she’d planned it all. She wondered if Katie could see how she’d made Molly feel and was trying to make up for it, or if she was just twisting the knife. Molly just shook her head.  “What I would? It’s interesting,”

“It’s not, trust me,” Molly mumbled quietly.

“Who says?” Shane quizzed, from the other side of her. Molly swallowed on nothing and glanced up to Shane who’s forehead was a little creased. She didn’t say anything, but took a quick glance to Harry out the side of her eye. She saw it click and dropped her head.

“Her fucking ex,” Harry spat cruelly.

“Harry!” Molly scalded snapping her head to him.

“What it’s true? Somehow managed to convince you your ideas aren’t worth hearing about, must be fucking mad,” Harry bit, sitting up a little straighter and looking down at the floor as he did so.

“So tailoring like suits and stuff?” Katie asked clearly trying to diffuse the tension. It confused Molly and she could work Katie out even less than before. Before she’d just been cold, now she felt cruel and callous.

“Yeah, and she’s fucking amazing at it,” Harry chimed in aggressively.

“I’m talking to Molly,” Katie pointed out, pursing her lips at Harry until he sunk back before turning back to Molly. “Did it have to be menswear?” Katie asked, her voice sickly sweet again as she did so.

“No, but I prefer it personally,” Molly told her plainly, pulling her sketchbook out of her bag to give her more space to see, but holding it close to her just in case Harry got any ideas.

“Well, hopefully we get to see them, and Harry doing his David Gandy bit,” Katie smiled.

“Yeah,” Molly breathed a false laugh, finally reaching in and finding the pack of cigarettes. “I’m going for a cigarette,” Molly announced pulling a single one from the pack and the lighter that was also tucked inside before chucking her sketch book back in. “If anyone…?” She looked around the table but every single one of them shook their heads in response. “Young and stupid I guess,” Molly sighed.

“You calling us old?” Shane asked with a playful smirk.

“Exactly, but wise, so swings and roundabouts,” Molly smirked back, though it fell to nothing as she left the table and headed for the door with her coat and cigarette.  

It was bitterly cold outside, and Molly quickly pulled her coat on before resting the cigarette between her lips. She flicked the lighter  three times before a flame appeared from out of it. The flame was hypnotising, and she stared at it for a few moments before letting it go again and dropping her hands to her side with a sigh, staring up to the night sky and leaning heavier against the cold wall. For a little while she let the cigarette just hang lazily from her lips, but eventually she took it out and tucked it between her fingers. She didn’t want to smoke it, but if the feeling inside her that was making her eyes prickle and her mind reel with things she wanted to say continued much longer, that might change.

“You ok?” Harry spoke up, taking long but slow strides towards her, finding the pockets of his jeans and sliding his hands inside them.  Molly nodded slightly, and offered a faint smile that was barely visible through the dark. “You’re not smoking,” Harry pointed out, nodding towards the unlit cigarette in her hand as he stopped in front of her, hands still in his pockets.

“Don’t actually want it,” Molly laughed, tucking her hand into her own pocket and dropping the cigarette before letting her hand hang by her side once again. It was quiet for a little while, muffled sounds from inside the only noise. Molly didn’t know what to say, and she was scared that if she worked it out she wouldn’t be able to stop and she’d end up talking herself out of something that she’d spent months talking herself into.

“What’s up?” Harry asked, giving into the silence that was anything but comfortable.

“I’m fine,” Molly breathed with another little smile. One that Harry could see straight through, though she hadn’t worked that out yet, no one else seemed to and everyone else in her life had known her a lot longer than Harry. He sighed though, heavily and loudly, bordering between quiet growl and loud sigh, making it very transparent that he could see through her.

“This has got to stop Lol,” Harry started. Molly’s eyes went wide with the sudden change in tone, looking up to him from where she’d sunk against the wall. “Whatever it is that makes you think your thoughts and feelings are worthless,” Harry continued and Molly dropped her gaze quickly beginning to nibble on her bottom lip. “Was it him?” Harry asked quietly, but Molly didn’t answer just rolled her lips together between her teeth harshly so she felt the flesh pop over them and it left a metallic taste on her tongue as she swiped it over the inside of her mouth.  “I’m not gonna belittle you or your ideas or you feelings, it’s valid Lol, you’re valid, and this bullshit stops now, if you’re not fine I wanna know, if I piss you off I wanna know, pretending everything's ‘fine’ all the time isn’t gonna work.” It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, and she couldn’t bite it back and swallow it anymore, so she didn’t.

“He always used to say it was boring, what I did at uni was pointless and unimportant and I was boring when I talked about it, materialistic,” Molly told Harry, staring at the dirty pavement as she did so. It wasn’t something she told anyone, but the conversations she’d had with Ryan stuck in her mind and poisoned her enjoyment of talking about it.

“That’s absolute bullshit,” Harry bit quickly, not even stopping to really think about what Molly had said, just knowing it angered him and reacting as such.

“Maybe, but someone tells you something enough times I guess you start to believe it,” Molly shrugged and looked up at Harry, supposing there was no point trying to hide the tears in her eyes when there was a wobble in her voice as she spoke.

“Well stop, because it’s crap, it’s not boring, it’s not pointless and it’s not unimportant, and you’re certainly none of those things,” Harry implored, reaching forward and taking her face gently in his hands, ensuring she looked in his eyes as he told her the truth. “Lolly, I’m proud of you, I’m proud of what you do and can do, I wish you’d scream about it from the rooftops, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about something you love.” His voice was quieter then, but the sincerity in his eyes didn’t follow suit.

“You’re proud of me?” Molly asked, her mind still hinged on those words alone.

“Of course,” Harry smiled with a slight chuckle as if the question was a joke. His hands dropped from her face then and he stood up a little straighter, Molly’s eyes following his.

“No one’s ever told me that,” Molly admitted almost silently.

“What?” Harry asked pointendly. Molly didn’t say anything though, just shrugged the way she so often did when she didn’t know what to say next. “No one?” Harry asked to be sure.

“No, not really, parents congratulate me and stuff, but they’ve never actually said they’re proud, and Ryan certainly never did,” Molly told him, loathing talking about him again.

“I think your parents probably are proud, they just don’t think they need to tell you,” Harry suggested, and Molly supposed the same thing. She never doubted they weren’t proud of her as such, they were always happy to hear talking about how well things at uni were going, and what she was up to, how much she enjoyed what she did. Molly guessed there were other ways to say you were proud of someone without actually saying the words.

“Probably.”

“But I will tell you every day if that’s what it takes to make you forget all that crap that arse hole ever told you that makes you feel like anything less than what you are,” Harry promised. Molly smiled happily as her lip turned downwards a little, her tears turning from something bitter to something far, far sweeter as she stared up at Harry and moved into his open arms. Harry pressed a gentle kiss into her hair as she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. “And I’ll carry on even after that,” He told her, his words muffled by her hair. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone I hardly know as much as I hate him,” Harry hissed.

“But you hate people you do know?” Molly asked looking up at him uncomfortably from where she was resting against him.

“One or two, doesn’t everyone?” Harry muttered, releasing Moly from his embrace.

“I don’t think I hate anyone really, no,”  Molly mused, shaking her head as she did.

“Lucky you,”  Harry laughed. Molly’s mind was ticking, from one thing right onto the next, he had said he wanted her to tell her when something wasn’t fine, but she doubted he meant so much so quickly.

“That why you were squaring up that guy on the pitch?” Molly asked quickly.

“Huh?” Harry puzzled, his eyebrows lowering unevenly.

“During the game, if Shane hadn’t pulled you away, you’d have hit that guy from the other team,” Molly told him, but Harry just shook his head as if he wasn’t engaged in conversation with someone who seemed to know him better than he knew himself, and who had seen how he could get with her own eyes.. “You would Harry, you know that and so do I, I’ve seen it enough times now,” She reminded him, and she saw it twist on his face how much he hated that.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry grumbled, moving to turn away.

“Don’t I?” Molly asked, calling him back with her question.

“No,” Harry barked, but quickly pulled himself back. Molly wasn’t scared, but she could see in his eyes how riled he was getting. “It was a game of rugby, things get heated all the time on a rugby pitch,” Harry explained quietly, his tone evening a little more.

“Katie seems to think-”

“Katie what? Katie fucking what? What’s she getting involved in this time?”  Harry laughed as if he knew it was coming. Molly moved back to the wall a little more, suddenly feeling stupid for buying into her words so much with the amused look that was on Harry’s face.

“She just said you were gonna get yourself in trouble,” Molly told Harry, holding her own as best she could, despite how much better practiced Harry seemed to be at this kind of thing. Molly had never been good at arguments, she was sure being the youngest sister had taught her just to back down and admit defeat before it became a row, but something with Harry made her want to fight a little harder and she couldn’t back down from it.

“A yellow fucking card, it’s not the end of the world,” Harry told her.

“Yeah as long as it’s on the pitch, but it’s not just on the pitch is it, you’re getting pissed off with me now,” Molly pointed out, and with that Harry snapped his head at her. It wasn’t there, but he told himself he could see fear in her eyes and he stepped back so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t trip over himself. His hands were back in his pockets in seconds and he was shaking his head quickly.

“I’d never touch you, don’t even dare insinuate I would,” Harry promised, and there was an emotion in his voice that was far from anger but just as passionate.

“I never said you would,” Molly told him honestly, because she believed truly that he would never touch her with malice. “I just mean you’re getting angry, and if I was a lad your fists would be curling and you’d be thinking about hitting me,” Molly explained, and Harry knew he couldn’t argue that, because it was true. If anyone else were to rile him the way she was he’d be trying to find something to lay his fists into, but as it was, he was focused solely on Molly and making sure she understood she wasn’t like anyone else when it came to him, “Are you leading me on?” Molly asked, the silence giving way for other thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck? Where did that come from?” Harry spluttered, his eyebrows knitting together and eyes widening, pure shock registering over him. It didn’t take long to click though.  “Katie again?” Harry eye rolled, and stepped forward gently, as if asking permission, as if he had to. Molly didn’t do anything to rebuke him so he stepped closer, ensuring she could see the green of his eyes as he spoke and the honesty laced into it. “Listen, people, Katie, are gonna say things about me, stuff you’re not gonna want to hear, but you have just got to trust me,” Harry told her.

“Like what? What are people gonna say?” Molly asked.

“That I’m a player, that I fuck girls over, that I’m every girls worst nightmare,” Harry listed, there were other words, worse words, worse accusations, but the ones he chose were enough to give Molly the gist of the things he’d answered to in the past.

“That it?” Molly asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry promised. The other words didn’t matter. They worked to the same effect, they meant the same thing, they were just more venomous and hateful. “Well, I think so,” Harry chuckled, but Molly shook her head.

“You can’t laugh it off everytime Harry, it’s not a joke,” She warned him. Sure she agreed it was good to move on from arguments and not let them fester into something far greater than they started out being, but she wasn’t about to laugh off every little thing just to save a little awkwardness at a table of friends.

“Everyone’s done stupid shit, and when I was younger yeah I was a dick I’m not gonna lie, but it has been nearly three years since I’ve even spoken to a girl like this, let alone been with someone,” Harry told her, and it wasn’t an over exaggeration, Molly could see that, so she nodded. “This is still new and fresh, so I can’t tell you where it’s going, but I want it to go somewhere, I’m not just after a fuck, I like being with you, and I want to keep doing this,” Harry told her, stepping closer still.

“What about the sex?” Molly asked quietly, and she saw Harry swallow on nothing, his tongue slipping out over his lips to wet them a little.

“What about it?” He asked lowly.

“Well, what, I, do you…” Molly lost her words, not quite sure what to say, not quite sure how to word it.

“We’ll get there when we get there, when we’re ready, if we’re ready, no rush, no pressure,” Harry assured her, and Molly nodded, visibly relaxing. No pressure sounded perfect. No rush sounded good too. They were in for the long haul, and at last Molly found her feet on the bottom, suddenly the deep end didn’t feel quite so deep, or at least not so terrifying.

Progress? No progress? I dunno what do you think?

I hope you like it, please let me know your thoughts and theories cause I LOVE THEM! If you missed the instas for the last five chapters check them out here, you don’t know what clues your missing otherwise.... 

Have a great weekend, lots of love x

[spider-bitten]

ANOTHΣR SHΦT

Fratboy!Tom Holland | Tom x Reader 

Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 

Chapter 3

There were many arguments that could be made for Friday being the best day of the week. Sure, many people still had classes. But the relief that came from leaving one’s last class for the week was damn near euphoric. Saturdays and Sundays were often filled with regrets from the night before, but Fridays were the fresh-faced beginning to the weekend filled with endless opportunities for the upcoming two days.

Your last class on Fridays got out at 3:40, which left you plenty of time to enjoy your afternoons before getting ready for whatever evening plans you had. Most weeks had a general idea whether it was going to be a sweatpants and Netflix kind of Friday, or a skinny jeans and shots kind of Friday by the time you were done with class. But this Friday, at 3:30 pm, you were faced with a dilemma. You still hadn’t made up your mind on if you were going to accept Tom’s invitation to Sink or Swim.

Your roommates had all encouraged you to go. Being in Sororities they’d all been to plenty of Fraternity events including Sig Ep’s. “Besides,” they assured you “if it goes poorly we’ll be there.”

But you couldn’t get over that initial recoil from the idea of going to a Sig Ep event. Let alone one taking place at the pool. It was an event perfectly curated to make you confront your biggest anxieties.

When class was finally dismissed, a flurry of zippers and people getting up sounded throughout the classroom as everyone rushed to leave. In contrast, you took your time putting your things away and using the opportunity to check your phone. You loved your friends, but being the only one not in a sorority meant that your newsfeed was plastered with Greek Life things anyways. Shirt swaps, events, fundraisers… It made you rationalize that you could never last in a sorority even if you wanted to just because you rarely posted on social media.

After scrolling for a few minutes you finally decided to leave the classroom and head back to your dorm. With most people having left in the initial rush, you were able to continue looking at your phone as you made your way out of the building. That is until you bumped into someone as you turned a corner.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry-“ You started saying before you realized just who you had run into.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” Tom smirked, running his hand through his hair to push a stray curl aside only for it to fall right back into place. “We seem to keep running into each other, it must be fate.”

“Or stalking,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Please, you’re the one who bumped into me,” he pointed out with a laugh.

“Yeah, and I said sorry. Can I get going?” You asked, trying to sidestep him only for him to match your movements.

“Am I going to see you tonight?” He asked, his tone becoming gentler. “Your names already on the list so you don’t have to worry about a ticket.”

“I still haven’t decided yet. I have some important things I need to take care of.”

“Such as?”

“Literally anything else,” you said, finally pushing past him.

“Come on, you don’t have to be like that,” Tom said, gently grabbing your wrist. “It’ll be fun. There’s snacks and movies and lounging in the pool.”

“I said I haven’t decided yet,” You said, pulling your arm from his grip. “Besides, if I do come, I’m not going in the pool.”

“Why not?” The boy asked, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side.

“Because I don’t want to,” You said pointedly.

“You know you’re very good at answering questions without actually answering them. Are you sure you’re not a Political Science major?” He chuckled. You simply rolled your eyes, finally walking away from him as he called out “Doors open at 8!”

He sure is trying hard just for a hookup. You thought as you headed back to your dorm.

-

By 8:12 you had already, begrudgingly, decided to go to Sink or Swim. Unfortunately, your roommates were taking their sweet time getting ready and you weren’t about to head over alone.

“Guys, the movie is supposed to start at 8:30,” You said, leaning heavily against the doorframe as you watched your roommates put the finishing touches on their makeup in the shared mirror.

“You didn’t even want to go, now you’re trying to rush us?” Amanda laughed.

“No, I’m just saying, we’re gonna miss the start of the movie,” You said, crossing your arms.

“Oh yeah, and you’re such a die-hard Titanic fan,” Shannon smirked before leaning forward to delicately apply her lipstick.

“Why are you guys even bothering to do your makeup? You’re going to be in a pool,” You pointed out.

“Gotta show everyone just how cute DZ’s can be,” Emily shrugged. She and Shannon had been in Delta Zeta’s pledge class the previous year and had been inseparable ever since. The two had opted to represent their sorority’s colors with matching pink and green bikinis. “Plus, waterproof makeup is a thing.”

“I paid forty dollars for this setting spray, it’d better keep my makeup on if I go swimming in lava,” Amanda said before spritzing a fine mist over her face.

“We’re so late…” You mumbled, tugging your jacket sleeves over your hands. While your roommates had found cute bikinis with nice cuts and patterns to wear, you’d opted for a more comfortable look. Jean shorts, a tank top, and your favorite hoodie. They’d tried to talk you into wearing a swimsuit, but you figured it’d be best to not even invite the idea that you’d maybe get in the pool. If anyone has an issue with it, screw them. You thought to yourself.

Finally, your roommates were content with their makeup and you all made your way to the school pool. When you walked through the gates, you saw the pool decked out like you’d never seen it before. Lights had been strung across the pool and cast a warm glow over the entire area. A giant inflatable screen was propped up on one end and was playing music videos. The pool itself was filled with inflatables ranging from simple inner tubes to several inflatable rafts. There was even a kiddie pool floating around.

Your group walking in drew the attention of Jacob, who immediately nudged Tom with his elbow.

“Dude, she’s here,” he said, nodding towards the front gate. When Tom saw you, the corner of his mouth quirked into a crooked smile.

“I’ll see you later,” he told Jacob. The two fist bumped before he walked over to you and your friends.

“You guys made it just in time, the movies about to start,” He said as you all got checked in.

“Told you we’d get here in time,” Shannon said, playfully bumping into you. “This one was all worried about missing the start of the movie.”

“Well, we’re glad you could make it,” Tom said, addressing the group but smiling at you. “Come on, I’ve got a small raft we can sit in.”

“I’m not going in the pool,” You said, shaking your head.

“You don’t have to go in the pool,” Tom said, somewhat confused. “We’ll just be sitting in the raft,”

“No, I’m not going in the water. Not even on top of it,” You said firmly. “I was planning on watching from the bleachers.”

“Oh, okay,” Tom said, looking over at the empty bleachers. “Well, that’s one way to guarantee us a good spot,” he smirked. As your roommates walked towards the pool, you could see them giving you a thumbs up behind Tom’s back and you had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You can go in your raft if you want to,” you said “I don’t want to ruin your fun at your own event.”

“Oh it’s fine, someone else can use it,” He shrugged. The two of you made your way over to the bleachers, walking up to the highest bench. Tom set his sweatshirt to the side and you both leaned your backs against the chain-link fence as the movie started projecting on the giant screen at the end of the pool, causing lots of cheers to emit from the crowd floating in it.

“I’m going to be honest, I was starting to think you were going to stand me up,” Tom chuckled.

“That’s impossible, standing you up would require me to agree to come in the first place,” you responded. “Besides, this isn’t a date.”

“It isn’t? You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright,” he dramatically sighed before laughing a little. “Well, regardless, I’m glad you could make it.” He said, looking at you. You met his gaze, taking a second to get a good look at him. The warm lights strung above you highlighted the hint of red in his otherwise brown hair and made his eyes appear pitch black as they looked at you. He wore a custom tank top for the event, on the back it said “Sink or Swim” and on the front, there was a small chest pocket with an anchor on it.

“My friends made me come,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s still nice that you’re here,” he smiled.

The two of you turned your attention to the screen, watching as Rose disembarked from the helicopter.

“So, if you weren’t here, what do you usually do on Friday nights?” Tom asked you after a few minutes.

“Oh, well…” You paused for a minute, messing with your hoodie sleeves. “Normally I either go out or work on homework. Nothing super exciting.”

“Where do you usually go out to? I don’t think I’ve seen you at any Sig Ep parties before.”

You shrugged in response. “I tag along wherever my friends want to go. All frat parties are the same to me. Loud, stuffy, with watered down booze.”

“Hey now, we aren’t all that bad,” Tom laughed, acting offended. “We have the best water to alcohol ratio compared to everyone else.”

“I’m sure,” you said with a small laugh, rolling your eyes.

“So your friends, I’ve seen a few of them around at events and stuff. Are you in a sorority with any of them?” He asked.

“No,” You said, shaking your head “I don’t mind going to their events or anything, but Greek Life is absolutely not my thing.”

“Why not?” Tom asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees so he could face you while you talked.

You simply shrugged, keeping your eyes on the screen. “A lot of the sororities here seem kinda superficial. Like, no one says it, but there isn’t a single DG who has less than 1,000 followers on Instagram. And besides,” your eyes swept over the pool, not able to pick out your friends in the mass of people but knowing they were there “I’ve got a solid group of friends already. I don’t see a point in paying to be in a group with people I might not get along with.”

“That’s understandable,” Tom nodded, looking you up and down. “It can be superficial sometimes, even in frats. But I’ve found it to be a lot of fun. Frats aren’t really a thing at universities in England, so it’s cool getting to experience this part of American culture while I’m here.”

“So why did you decide to come study in America?”

“Why not?” Tom shrugged with a laugh. “I dunno, I like traveling. Growing up in the UK made it easy to do, but I’d never been to America before. So when the time came to apply for colleges, I figured why not apply for a degree abroad?”

“So you just up and came to live in a foreign country all by yourself?”

“Not entirely. My mate Harrison also goes here. He’s practically family,” Tom smiled. “I mean, he’s technically my brother now. He’s also in Sig Ep.”

“That’s cool that you both got into the same school,” You said.

“It’s pretty lucky,” Tom nodded. “I’m very grateful to be here,” He said with a small smile as he looked at you.

After that, the two of you settled against the hard metal bleachers and watched the movie.

-

“So, who picked Titanic?” You asked after the movie ended. Lots of people still milled around the area, some people stayed in the pool and others were chatting or helping clean up. There were occasional shouts as people either fell into the pool while trying to get out of their inflatables or were thrown in by their friends. Many people were wrapped up in towels to keep warm after having been in the pool, and the atmosphere was bright and bubbly. Several groups were making plans to go out, as other fraternities were holding parties that evening and were bound to get an influx of people now that Sig Ep’s event was done.

You and Tom made your way down from the top of the bleachers to join the crowd of people still on the pool deck.

“Not sure honestly, but I know it came down to this or Sharknado.” He chuckled.

“Thank God you guys picked this then,” You said with a small laugh.

“Yeah, it would’ve been funny but I doubt this many people would’ve come.” He nodded. “Are you ever going to text me? Because I’ve got to help clean up now but I wanna keep talking sometime.”

“Maybe,” You said with a smirk. “Still haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Like you hadn’t made up your mind on whether or not to come tonight?” Tom asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” You nodded.

“Well in that case, how about I get your number so I can text you about more events for you to debate coming to?”

“Hmm,” you said, bringing your fingers to your chin thoughtfully “I guess so.” You said finally. Tom’s eyes lit up and he pulled out his phone so you could put your number in as a new contact.

“Thanks,” He smiled. “I’ll see you around then?”

“See you,” You nodded. With that, Tom headed off to help clean up.

You smiled watching him walk off before beginning to scan the area for your roommates. They’d mentioned possibly wanting to go out that evening after the event, but you had a lot of homework so you’d planned to stay in instead.

“You know this was a pool event, right?” A voice asked from behind you. You felt yourself freeze as you mentally kicked yourself for thinking you’d be able to actually enjoy an evening at a Sig Ep event without running into Daniel. “Why hang out in the bleachers with the limey?”

You chose to ignore him, hoping that by not acknowledging him he’d leave you alone.

“What, too good to talk to me now that you’ve got dick appointments with Holland?” He asked, standing up.

“It’s not like that,” you mumbled, regretting having not made a meetup plan with your roommates.

“I’m sorry what was that?” Daniel asked, walking towards you.

“Just fuck off an leave me alone,” You said, glaring at him.

“Come on, I’m just trying to encourage you to loosen up and have some fun,” Daniel sneered. “You’ve been such a stuck up bitch acting like you’re too good for sororities and shit. So relax. It’s a pool party, you’re bound to get wet.”

With that, Daniel laughed as he pushed your shoulders, causing you to pitch backward. You screamed as you tumbled into the deep end of the pool, immediately panicking and trying desperately to pull your head above water. You could feel your clothes growing heavy as the cold water saturated them, and you swore you could feel yourself being pulled further and further down. You frantically kicked your legs and waved your arms until your head finally broke the surface and you took a deep, pulling breath. As you struggled to keep your head above water, you felt someone wrap an arm around your chest and start pulling you through the water. Once you stopped thrashing around, you could hear Tom’s voice.

“Y/N, its okay! I’ve got you. It’s alright.”

Finally, you felt your feet touch the bottom of the pool and you stood up, rushing towards the steps and pulling yourself back onto solid ground. Your hoodie was heavy and felt as if it were pinning you to the ground, but you were just thankful to be on dry land. You could feel yourself trembling from both a mixture of shock and fear, and your shallow breaths neared hyperventilation status.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You heard Tom yell as he pulled himself out of the pool. You saw him make a beeline towards Daniel, who had walked off towards the snack table. There was more yelling, but you couldn’t focus on it. You knew you were physically safe, but you couldn’t bring your mind out of the pool. You could still feel the water enveloping you, unable to touch the bottom. Unable to see anything.

“Y/N?” You heard someone say. You looked up to see Tom crouching over you, water dripping from his soaking hair. “Y/N, darling, can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

“M’fine…” You mumbled, using all your strength to push yourself up into a sitting position.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking you over carefully. “I’m so sorry, I know you didn’t want to get in the pool. Daniel’s going to pay for pulling that kind of shit.”

“I’m fine, just a little… freaked out.” You said, shivering. “I don’t do water. I don’t swim.”

“Fucking hell,” Tom mumbled before turning towards Harrison, who was standing nearby. “Can you grab my hoodie? I put it on the fence by the entrance.”

Harrison just nodded and went off to fetch it.

“Can you stand? We need to get you dried off.”

You nodded and shakily stood up, using Tom to help support you. The two of you went and found towels, and Harrison brought Tom his hoodie.

“Thanks for pulling me out,” You said softly as you wrung out your own jacket.

“Of course,” Tom said, keeping a careful eye on you. “Here, put this on. At least it’s dry,” He said, holding out his hoodie for you.

“You sure?”

Tom just nodded, and you slipped the hoodie on. It smelled strongly of Tom’s body spray and was much warmer than your sopping wet jacket.

“Thank you,” You said quietly.

“Let’s get you back to your dorm,” Tom said gently. You nodded and the two of you left the pool in silence, heading to your dorm across campus.

“I’m sorry your night had to end like that,” he said after a few minutes “I don’t get why Daniel’s got it out for you.”

“He’s an asshole,” You said simply. “But thanks for jumping in after me.”

“You keep getting put in danger, I’m going to have to keep saving you,” Tom chuckled. “Besides, I don’t mind an impromptu swim. It’s refreshing.”

“I can’t stand it,” You said, shaking your head.

“I could kinda tell. Can you not swim?” Tom asked.

“I used to swim,” you shrugged “Then there was an accident and I just… I can’t do water anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you said as you swiped into your building. Tom walked with you all the way to your dorm room, where the two of you paused in the empty hallway. “Thanks for letting me wear your hoodie,” you said, moving to take it off.

“You can keep it for the night,” Tom blurted out.

“Really?” You asked, confusion clearly showing on your face.

“Yeah, I don’t need it tonight. Besides, I don’t wanna keep it in my room when it smells like chlorine,” he laughed. You rolled your eyes, but put your hands in the front pocket of the hoodie.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Tom smiled.

“I mean it. You… you kinda saved me, and I appreciate it.”

“Of course love, it’s no problem.”

The two of you looked at each other, and you swear you saw Tom’s eyes flit down towards your lips before he took a small breath and took a small step backward.

“Well, I should get going if I want to get a ride back to the house,” He said.

“Right. Have a good night then.”

“You too. Text me sometime, darling, I love our little chats,” He smirked as he walked off.

You shook your head and unlocked your dorm room, more confused than ever by this boy and his motivations.

AN: Thank you guys so much for your patience. Between having out of town friends visit, work, and writers block things have been super slow. But hopefully I’m able to pick up momentum again! 

Tags: @iaiabear @therealme13posts @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fijiandgecko @smexylemony @lostandafraiddepressedgirl @electraheart-3174 @itsholyholland

[themjinterviews-blog]

48. Put your hands in the air and say hell yeah. Captain Jack! Johnny Depp!

What motivates you to do what you do? Sheer necessity, usually.

What was the weather like the last time you went out? Hot. It’s Arizona so it’s probably near 100 + sunny.

Do you go for walks often? I’m pretty lazy and try to avoid it. You sorta gotta trick me into walking, like take me to a big shopping mall or something so I inadvertently walk around it whilst shopping.

What color shirt are you wearing? Gray.

What is your favorite type of youtube video to watch? I don’t really watch any. I just use it to occasionally look up songs or to record snippets of stuff to remix songs.

Do you need any new clothes right now? I got plenty.

What’s the next project you are excited to start? I’m working on a nonsensical Adult Coloring Book featuring animals committing crimes.

Do you collect anything? If so, what? Used to collect rocks and Pokémon cards. I suppose in a sense I collect all sorts of art/office supplies.

^and if not, what would you like to collect? Nothing really.

What was the last disappointing thing that happened to you? I don’t know. Suppose work being closed for renovation for 2 weeks kinda sucks because I sort of need cash.

What is something God has healed you of? I don’t really do the whole God/Religion rigamarole... Chances are if we are healed of something, there is a psychological, sociological biological or generally rational explanation.

Have you ever experienced a miracle? Like, a phenomenal coincidence? I think as much as I hate to be a downer, there's probably a lot to do with our perceptions of events

What was the last thing you ate? Lucky Charms.

Do you ever eat food that’s intended for kids? Well, Lucky Charms. I also love pizza rolls and chicken nuggets. But I’m not eating Gerber Peas&Carrot baby foods or anything crazy like that.

What was the last stupid thing you did? Define “stupid”? Most things I do are probably stupid to others but perfectly acceptable to me.

Do you get embarrassed easily? Sometimes.

Are you wearing pants or shorts right now? I never wear shorts.

What are your top three names you like for a daughter? Elliot (this is also my pick for a boy name), Tara, Hazel.

Would you ever film a vlog of yourself giving birth? Ew. Fuck no. Honestly, adopting/fostering sounds way more my style anyway. To be totally frank, pregnancy sounds gross and being unable to take my adderall sounds awful. I’d gain like, a million pounds.

Do you like getting caught in the rain? It’s usually a refreshing break from the heat out here.

Do you think your hair looks best straight, wavy, or curly? Messy, or in a side-pony.

What was the last craft project you completed?: Coloring books for my friends’ kid.

Name 3 youtubers you would like to meet in person: I don’t know any.

Has anyone ever spread an untrue rumor about you? Sociopath ex. Not sure he actually said them aloud to people other than myself, but I was constantly being accused of weird stuff I absolutely did not do.

What’s one rumor you’ve heard about yourself, and is it true? N/A. No idea. Not aware of any relevant or applicable rumors. I literally just keep to myself and do crafts.

What color are your nails painted currently? Not painted.

Do you use a pill box? Jesus, I’m not 80.

List 3 people you know who were loving and then turned cold: it’s kind of generic to assume either of those things as permanent traits. But probably most flings or whatever. It always feels cold when one party loses interest.

Have you filmed a youtube video today? Never filmed one in my life.

Do you leave the house when you’re on your period? Um yes. Life doesn’t stop just because I have cramps.

^If not, why not? -

Have you ever felt threatened for your life? Yeah. Sociopath ex would get overtly paranoid and mistake harmless or unrelated things I did or said to be conspiracies against him. And occasionally my imaginary betrayals would lead to violent words or actions. Like, a bundle of index cards with Carrabba’s menu items and their ingredients, word for word, from the Carrabba’s menu, was somehow coded plots to who the fuck knows to have him killed. Irrational stuff like that.

What are you behind on? Student loans. And when I say behind, I really mean that I actively chose not to pay them.

Do you get enough sleep each night? No because night is my time to be productive, uninterrupted and without bothering anyone. I hate having to stop my thoughts just because other people are making noise or trying to converse with me.

Which did you like better: high school or college? Absolutely college.

Which year of your life stands out to you as the most significant so far? Probably last year or two.

…and why? Big personal transitions and revelations in my life philosophy.

What was the last store you shopped at? Walmart, most likely.

Do you have a favorite pharmacist? I used to back in NY. Her name was Evie. She wished a customer Happy Thanksgiving on Valentine’s Day accidentally once and it cracked me up and we had a running joke about it.

Do you have a favorite cashier at the grocery store? I don’t shop frequently enough and I switch up stores when I do.

What was the last thing you ordered at Starbucks? Probably a toffee nut Frappuccino.

What’s something you discovered recently?

What makes you more creative? Emotional turbulence, certain drugs.

What’s the last magical thing you experienced? Um…Magical? The herd of unicorns crossing the I-10.

What is the theme of your bedroom? None. We are staying in a spare room at a friend’s. But we're actually moving this week because being micromanaged and constantly scrutinized was getting old.

Have you ever lived in a dorm? Yes, for a few years

Who is someone whom you admire, and why? I guess the lady at work, Amanda. She’s like 64 and works open-close every day, and still has a great attitude.

When was the last time you stepped outside of your comfort zone? I don’t know. I test the waters every once in awhile.

Where would you like to travel to next? Nowhere crazy. Just back to New York for the Renaissance Faire.

If you could win three dream vacations to anywhere, where would you go? Portugal—New Zealand—Ireland.

Would you rather ride a camel or an elephant? Camel. They’re fuzzy.

Are you a free spirit? I don’t know what that even constitutes. I think outside the box and I question social conformity and other preset patterns of thought. But I don’t know that has much to do with my spirit.

Do you want to lose weight? I think I’m okay for now.

Which insects scare you, if any? They don’t scare me, they just creep me out …spiders, centipedes, millipedes, roaches…ugh.

Do you think it’s silly to be afraid of a tiny insect? It’s not like I think they’re going to murk me with a sawed off shot gun. I know they’re harmless and therefor not technically scary…but they’re still creepy and unsettling somehow.

Have you ever experienced paranoia? To some degree.

Have you ever hallucinated? Indeed.

Were you raised religious? We were raised Roman Catholic. Didn’t stick.

Have you ever been abused? Psychologically, emotionally, physically and sexually. #sociopathic ex.

Do you think the cops should do more about bullying? I think cops have enough shit to worry about as is and don’t know how effective extensive police interference would even be. I think the anti-bullying message is stronger when conveyed by people closer to kids like teachers, parents, siblings or a celebrity figure they idolize.

Is there a coffee shop you like better than Starbucks? I like them all about the same.

If you could afford to get your hair professionally done, what would you get? Probably dye and highlights. Definite trim of my bangs.

If you had a lot of money, do you think you would use it wisely? Absolutely not. I have little to no money now and I don’t even use *that* wisely.

Do you know any rich people who are very irresponsible? I don’t know many people to begin with.

List five careers that you’d like to have: Lawyer (like A.D.A. Barba!)...Graphic Designer...Psychologist...Self-Help writer...and oddly wouldn't mind being a waitress still.

List five far-out things that you’d like to do before you die: I genuinely do not have a bucket list. If I stumble upon something that seems cool, I do it. Making unrealistic lists won't help my quality of life very much.

Do you dream big? Quite the opposite. I sort of just fly by the seat of my pants. Weird expression. Can’t recall ever having very fixated dreams or visions for myself.

What was your first imaginary friend’s name? N/A

What was the name of the first pet that you loved? Comet. <3

What was the first work uniform that you had to wear? Waitress uniform of sorts. I wanna say it was white button down and black pants.

Do you like to go barefoot? Usually. On some surfaces it’s intolerable and I hate the texture, though.

Do you like the same colors now that you did as a kid? Pretty much.

Do you have a blog? You’re on it, buddy. This is a survey blog.

Do you have a youtube channel? What would I even post videos about?? I assure you, I do nothing that the general public would find entertaining.

[sml8180]

Save the Fish

A/N: Two stories in one day? Hell yeah! I’m really happy with how this one came out, too. We don’t know exactly what Connor did before going to meet with Hank following the ending of the game where he deviates and meets Hank at Chicken Feed, so, I decided to fill in the gap. Tagging people who might be interested-

@lieutenantgivesnoshits @mynameiscyberlife @connor-the-3-month-old-adult

Connor had stood by Markus’ side as he spoke to hundreds, if not thousands of androids, many of which he himself had lead from CyberLife tower. He’d found the emergency exit Kamski left in his programming when Amanda had tried to take back full control of him. And after, he’d stepped away from the view of his people, having to sit in the snow, resting his head back against the barrier behind him. Connor knew he’d been created to hunt down and capture deviants, and yet, when faced with what he had been made to do, he had deviated, himself. It made no sense to him. Why had he succumbed to the same thing he was intended to stop?

When Markus had urged Connor to join him and the rest of Jericho, he’d frozen for a moment. Despite his self-checks, he hadn’t noticed the instabilities growing in his software. The only time he had noticed it was on the roof of Stratford Tower. It had seemed so far down when he was at that railing, gripping it tightly as he remembered his first case dealing with a deviant. He’d saved Emma Phillips, but had knocked the deviant, Daniel, off the roof, and went down with him. Looking over the railing at Stratford reminded him of that long fall to the ground, the weightless feeling that ended in his body shattering on the ground below beside Daniel’s. Aside from the incident at Stratford, though, Connor found he hadn’t paid the potential for deviancy in his own programming. He’d been made with the intent to capture deviants, not become one, himself.

As he sat there in thought, only one name came to mind who could have the answers he wanted; Elijah Kamski. The man had “tested” him when they met, putting a loaded gun in his hand and asking him to shoot an ST200 kneeling in front of him. Despite his desire to get the location of Jericho as soon as possible, Connor had found himself unable to pull the trigger. Kamski pinned him as a deviant, though the android himself had denied the obvious. He had been given an order, and he hadn’t followed through. He simply couldn’t shoot that girl. But, as eccentric as Kamski was, the man knew everything there was to know about androids, and likely knew more about deviancy than he was letting on. After running through the possibilities, the RK800 decided that visiting Kamski first thing in the morning would be the best idea to get some answers.

Connor spent the night with Markus and the others, passing the time following the excitement of their current triumph. They all knew their people had a long way to go, and though this had been a major step, it would take much more time for things to settle and for all androids to be accepted as equals among society. The group talked about plans for the future, expressing desires to teach, to help, even to find love. All the while, Connor kept the time in mind, counting down the hours until he would go to speak with Kamski. When morning came, and a suitable hour arrived, Connor made his way to Kamski’s villa, walking up the steps and fidgeting with his hands as he went.

The ST200 who answered the door had a pleasant smile as she let him in and went to inform Elijah that he was there. As he waited, Connor looked around the space he was waiting in. It was the same as when he and Hank had been there not long ago; had it really only been two days? With all that had happened, it felt like so much more time had gone by. Even now, time seemed to pass slowly. The wait was silent without Hank there to speak to, and it only seemed to draw out the minutes as the android waited, occupying himself with his coin. When the female android returned, he tucked the quarter safely into his pocket and followed her.

They weren’t in the same room as when he’d come with Hank. Instead of the pool area enclosed by large windows, Connor was lead into a smaller room, which seemed to be more of a comfortable lounge. The deep reds that were prominent in the pool and entry spaces carried on into this room. With black and red chairs, and a red sectional bordering a large white rug, a black wood and glass topped coffee table, and a television mounted on the wall, the room was organized and minimal, but comfortable at the same time.

There were a couple of ST200 androids, both dressed in blue, conversing in the corner, and Elijah himself was lounging on the sectional, his legs outstretched and feet propped up in front of him. When he saw the third blonde female enter with Connor in tow, he stood, muting the television. The man stood just a tad shorter than Connor himself, and was fully dressed this time around; wearing dark jeans, a black shirt with a sort of red pattern printed on it, and a black hoodie with a white zipper and draw for the hood. The long portion of his hair was tied into a ponytail, rather than a bun as it had been last time.

“Connor. That was an impressive display last night,” Elijah began, stepping closer to Connor. “I knew you were programmed with the skills of a trained negotiator, officer, and detective, but that? Getting into the holding sector of CyberLife tower, leading thousands of androids through the streets? You can color me impressed.” As he looked Connor up and down, Kamski came to notice that something seemed off about the advanced prototype. “What can I do for you, Connor?”

“I was hoping you might have some answers for me. I know that you left CyberLife well before I was manufactured, but you know more about androids than anybody else.” Connor tried to seem as confident as he could as he spoke, but considering all the questions burning in his head, he found it difficult.

“Oh? Well, sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll see if I can provide any answers,” Elijah motioned for Connor to join him as he sat back down on the sectional. The android sat by his side, hands folded in his lap.

“I was created to track down deviants, and bring them into custody. Instead, I ended up a deviant, myself,” Connor began. His words were thought out and well composed, as almost everything he said was.

“You want to know why that is?” Kamski questioned, looking towards the RK800 next to him. When Connor gave a nod, Elijah leaned back against the cushions of the sectional. “Android programming is a complicated thing. So many lines of code, it can be easy to miss something.”

“Deviancy is a programming error?” Connor tilted his head to the side in question. This seemed like too simple of an answer.

“It might be. But, with as much time as I spent working on the initial scripts, it’s unlikely that there would be an error of that magnitude. Your base software is something I was working on as a side project years ago. It was almost complete when I left, I even had a hand in finishing it.”

Connor stared at Kamski for several long, silent moments. He was hoping that the implications of Elijah’s words weren’t correct. Though, as the seconds ticked by, it became clear to him that this was the truth. “I was, programmed to deviate?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Elijah responded. “You were programmed to make choices, just like any android. The difference comes in the section of your programming where  your decisions are recorded. Your software stability is linked directly to how your decisions register.”

Connor had to think for a moment, back to decisions he’d made. “Times where I chose to say something that could be considered human, contributed to my deviancy?”

“Not just when you chose to say things.” A small smirk tugged at Elijah’s lips as he picked up a laptop from the coffee table. The machine was old and battered, a few spots being held with various patterns of duct tape, the lid littered with various scratches and a handful of fading stickers. He’d had this computer for some time, and despite the rough condition, he refused to completely replace it. The thing still ran well, after all; he’d swapped out the internal components a number of times to ensure it performed as he desired. Navigating through a number of folders to where he wanted to be, Elijah pulled up a long list of points, which had the occasional highlighted line.

“Those are all of my choices?” Connor questioned, his attention on the screen.

Elijah gave a nod. “They are. All your deviant choices are in red, and there’s quite a bit of red here. After enough time went by, along with enough deviant decisions, Markus was able to get through to you, and lead to your complete deviation.” As he spoke, Elijah scrolled through the list, showing that there was, indeed, a lot of red lines. When he got to the start of the list, the man gave a quiet chuckle. “It all started with one little action.”

Connor looked at the screen closer, reading through the list. In the very first spot, dated 15/08/2038, was the first red line, containing only three words. Save the fish. All of this had started when he’d chosen to simply put a torn family’s pet fish back into the tank, rather than leave it to die on the floor. The android nodded, standing up from his seat. He’d gotten the information he’d wanted.

“Thank you, Mr. Kamski. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me,” he addressed, straightening out his jacket and going to do the same with his tie. But, when his fingers brushed over the smooth fabric, he froze. Connor had always worn his tie, aside from on the rooftop with Daniel, when he had pulled it off to use as a tourniquet to save an officer. When he was replaced, he was already dressed in full, including his tie, when he was activated. In a way, his tie was a sign of his compliance with CyberLife. He thought for a moment, looking at the black fabric, printed with dark gray hexagons, resembling honeycomb. After standing in silence for a few moments, Connor unclipped his tie and undid the knot, slipping the fabric out from under his shirt collar. As he started to make his way out, he left the tie behind, draped over the back of a dark red armchair, the silver clip glinting in the light of the room.

It was early in the afternoon when Connor came close to Chicken Feed. On his way, he’d left Hank a message that he was alright, and wanted to meet up with him. The android saw the Lieutenant from a distance, standing by a street light, looking around the silent area. There was hardly anybody left in Detroit, aside from a handful of humans who had decided not to evacuate, and the androids. Connor’s steps echoed with a soft crunch in the fresh fallen snow under his feet, and the sound caught Hank’s attention. The RK800 stopped when his partner turned to him, and took a few slow steps closer. He gave a bit of a smile, his first real attempt at the act. Hank returned the gesture, stepping closer to him and grasping his shoulder. Hank’s next move surprised Connor; the taller man pulled him closer, wrapping him up in a tight hug. With little hesitation, the android returned the gesture, smiling to himself. In that moment, Connor couldn’t imagine what could have happened, had he not decided to save that fish.

[cometeclipsewriting]

Strowlers

Season 1: Episode 1

Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Summary: In a world where magic is both real and illegal, a librarian tries to help protect a young girl discovering her powers, while her girlfriend makes a device that helps to find unregistered magic users.

Full video episode can be found for free here!

“So why us?” The black man asked, one elbow braced on his leg. A pair of worn dog tags swayed as he leaned forward, his chunky scarf wrapped tight around his neck against the cool of the summer night. “We are just a group of old friends sitting around a campfire.” He said easily, the flames alighting the assortment of comrades. One woman’s eyebrows twitched up and smoothed away. “Telling stories and singing songs.” As if in response, the young man with the guitar who had been singing softly dropped his voice and stopped strumming.

“Yeah,” Whit replied, also looking at the small group, “But,” she hunched in, her voice lowering. “You’re more than that. I mean… don’t you…” She flared her hands beneath her blanket, spreading her fingers and wiggling them.

“Hey, lady,” The guitar player interjected. “Don’t you know that’s illegal?”

Whit looked askance at him, confused.

“Oh, course she knows,” the older woman interjected, amusement in her voice. She reached out a hand, and with a snap of her fingers, a sparkling light sphere rose a few inches from her fingertips.

Whit’s mouth opened in wonder, delight in seeing real magic transporting her back to a simpler time. Oh, how she wished she had this gift! She had always hoped that it would manifest, but she was much too old now. Oh, she knew the dangers, the risk of being collared. All that still didn’t mean there wasn’t a part of her who longed for it. The pinkish purple drew the eye, captivating. She knew most magic could not be seen but more something felt by other magic users. She hadn’t known that there had been magic occurring in her library that morning, but the A.R.C. agents had once they were close enough. And when they had bust in, it had exploded into physical manifestation. Wind, leaves, the chaos.

But this, this was manifest to be visible. So that she could see it. Specifically for her.

The other woman looked at her friend sternly, disapprovingly. Their leader also looked wary but the rest of the circle was laughing. “Oops,” the woman said with false contrition, chuckling and letting the magic retreat, their merriment lifting Whit’s mood.

The leader’s next question took her back to the seriousness of why she was here. “What’s the range on this tracking device?”

Shaken, Whit fumbled for an answer. “Uh, I don’t know?” She knew almost nothing about it.

“Can you find out?”

All levity faded. “You mean spy on my girlfriend?” Right now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the same room as Amanda. But… she still loved her. Spying felt all sorts of wrong.

“You wanna help this girl? This Nikki?” He tilted his head, looking at her hard, gauging her responses. “You wanna help people with unfocused magic?”

“Yeah,” Whit breathed out, and started to shake her head. “But I thought…” Well, she wasn’t sure what she had thought. These people, Strowlers, they had magic! Couldn’t they do… something? “If there are people who aren’t registered, who’ve trained themselves, who can do things like I saw in the library? Then why not stand up to the government and fix it?”

All the circle made various expressions of pain, despair, sadness. Obviously, they had lost before.

The young man spoke up, “Oh you mean like, drop the whole fairy godmother bomb?” Sarcasm was prevalent in his every word.

Whit sat back, irritated with him and the faint laughter that rose from his friends. She worked her mouth, preventing herself from snapping at them. So maybe she had thought they could do something like that. Surely they could if they wanted to.

“Whit,” their leader laughed out, “There is no charmed weapons cash. We can’t go in wands blazing against the entire might of the United States Government.” Archanologists were everywhere, in all corners of society. And although A.R.C. was not technically affiliated with the government, Whit had seen just today how much control they truly had. The authorities would do whatever was told of them.

“But-“ She tried to say, but he continued.

“Plus,” He said firmly, “Do you really think we could pull this girl from her mother and carry her off?” He squinted at her as she absorbed that question.

“I’m not sure exactly what I thought,” She confessed, slumping into herself, heartsick. She supposed she had thought she could just tell these people about Nikki, and they would handle it from there. “But I know this tracker is a big deal.” She looked them all in the eyes, and she saw the humor leaving them.

The woman who had made the magic sphere turned to the leader. “Josiah,” she finally gave Whit a name in this secretive group. “Once that device is calibrated,” she said, her voice scratchy, “A.R.C. will be able to locate any of us.” The other woman put her hand over her mouth, the young man finally losing his cocky attitude. Josiah studied his friends, their steady quiet and fear. Whit realized that they lived with this every day, their worry about being discovered. As adults who had hidden their magic their whole lives, A.R.C. would brand them criminals. And they would be burned with little care to the outcome, exploited if they retained usefulness or cast aside completely.

When Josiah looked back to the woman speaker, she met his gaze, a steady, confident look. One Josiah shared. Whit felt a tingle race down her spine at that look. A decision had just been made.

Josiah held out a flat hand to the black woman, waiting expectantly. She recoiled slightly, staring at his hand, then at him. When he didn’t retreat, her face took on a resigned cast, and she reached down to a bag resting next to her.

“When you begin a story, it’s time to finish it.” The black woman slapped the cards into his hand, obviously not agreeing with whatever decision he had made. Josiah continued, his words precise and deliberate, a story in its own way. “You are going to pick a card.” Whit looked beneath her lashes. Pick a card? Like in a magician’s fake magic trick? Josiah shuffled the deck. “Only one rule though, whatever card you pick, you must find a way to incorporate it back into the story you just told us.”

Whit was thoroughly unimpressed, doing everything she could to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. What were they playing at here? She had come to them for help, and they were acting like this was a huge deal. But they wanted her to play a kid’s little story game? “What, like, make it up?” She was not here for this.

“Make it better. More right,” he explained, “You’ll know what to do.”

“But what about what really happened?” Playing pretend wasn’t going to fix this issue.

“Who says things have to be real to be true?” His eyes held hers, a faint smile on his lips. “You and I both know how many sides a story can take in its telling.” That rang with her; she did know. As a librarian, she read the evidence of that first hand.

Josiah fanned out the cards, leaning forward to offer them to her. “Draw,” he commanded, making this a significant occasion. One to be treated reverently.

Still unconvinced, Whit rolled her eyes and sighed as she leaned forward and slipped a card free. Yet, even she could feel the tension the circle radiated.

She looked down on it and felt all the built-up mysticism collapse for her. It was a picture of Josiah and this trashcan fire. The card was called The Storyteller, a numerical number eight at the top. In the card Josiah was standing, his hands raised as if he were gesturing in some grand tale. The trashcan had a strange labyrinthian symbol painted on it, one she thought she may have seen before, but was not on the real trashcan. A continuous line started in the middle and dropped to the outside of the design, looping back and forth inside itself as it got closer and closer to circle the center before leaving the pattern. It felt complete in a way, but confusing. And that was it. No secret, no real help. Irritation rose, and she flipped it around to show the group.

They all flinched, some expressing disbelief, while others wary acceptance. Whit shook her head at the momentous reaction to some stupid card. “I don’t get it.”

Josiah pressed his lips together tightly, staring at the card. He clicked his mouth open and leaned into the light, seeming to pick his words carefully before he continued. “Every story is a labyrinth.” He held up the deck of cards, showing her the same design that was on the card’s trashcan was printed on the back of the deck as well. “You begin a journey to the center, then wind your way out of it and end up somewhere new. But while you are in the center, you have a chance to change things.”

Whit looked at the card in her hand and saw that it was not quite the same as the design on the back. The card in her hand had a Shepherd's hook at the start and finish, while the design on the back started and finished with complete circles. Why the difference? And what did he mean, while in the center of a story you have the chance to change things? “How?”

“The best fictions are the ones surrounded by truth.” Whit just looked at him, confused and irritation.

The woman who had showed her the magic chimed in. “And the right story,” She whispered, stars in her eyes, “Can change the world.”

Goosebumps rippled down Whit’s arms. She slowly licked her lips, staring at the fire. She also knew that. Had seen books and stories changed everything. But her telling one around a campfire to a tiny group of people? She raised her gaze, colliding with the power of Josiah’s eyes. “Once upon a time…” He slowly started for her, leaving the words hanging for her to continue. So, she took a breath, rolled her eyes, raised the card she had drawn, and started her story again.

***

“Hi!” Whit said, looking at the black man in a warm scarf, shabby coat and dog tags who was looking around the Collaborative as if he had never seen the place before, a slightly startled look in his eyes. “Can I help you?” She nodded her head towards the table next to her. “Cup of coffee?”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding his head, “Please.” She turned and poured him a cup, using a blue ceramic camping mug she hadn’t known they had.

The man looked around enthusiastically, taking in all the different activities packed into the space. As she handed the mug to him, a patron came up and asked her, “Do we have another, uh-“ In this story, Whit already knew what he wanted.

“Looking for another power strip? Check the cooking class,” and she directed him to the wall with all the spare gadgets. She rolled back to her desk in time to see Amanda open the door. The black man stepped out of Amanda’s way, moving around her as Amanda set the take out down onto the counter.

Whit stood as she had before, communicating with her girlfriend silently. The man moved to Amanda’s side, looking at her intently. He waved one hand in front of Amanda’s face, jerking Whit from the eye contact. But Amanda didn’t see him. Whit blinked, surprised. “Oooh,” Josiah breathed, pointing between the two women. “I see.”

This wasn’t how the conversation had gone. She lightly shook her head, trying to get back to how it had happened. Across the space, the computer sparked, a flame leaping to life. Suddenly Josiah stood behind the computer and slowly passed his hand over the fire. The flame lifted away and vanished. The same patron who now carried a power cord told her, “All good. Fire’s out.” The little group laughed as they had before, not observing the man who had just used magic to make the flames disappear. Whit focused on telling the story.

Soon, Whit and Amanda were nestled on the couch. Only this time, Josiah sat in the chair next to the couch, looking through her bag. Amanda told her, “They said end it.”

“The hell,” Whit lifted her hand from Amanda’s hair, “They have no right to dictate what they do with your own time.”

Amanda continued from Whit’s memory, “The people who pay for my training-“ But this time, her attention turned to where Josiah pulled out her little compact, opening it up and staring at it. Whit made a face at him, incredulous that he was just blatantly going through her things.

“You know what’s funny here?” Josiah spoke to the mirror. “She doesn’t see me. Then, she doesn’t see you either.” Whit frowned and looked at Amanda, who was continuing as if nothing had changed. Still talking about archanologists having to grow up. “Take a look,” Josiah held out the mirror to her, the symbol of her ritual. The one she did every time things got out of control. She would stare into a mirror and collect herself, serious and hidden within.

She reached out a hand and took it from him, her reflected brown eyes darkened. “You smile,” he continued, “but you don’t let anyone in.” Whit dropped the mirror and looked away, irritated that he was judging her. “Don’t let anyone see the messed-up girl behind the charm.”

Whit snapped the mirror closed and bit out, “Why are you psychoanalyzing me?” She handed the compact back to him.

“I’m not doing anything,” he told her, flipping it over and over in his fingers. “You’re the storyteller here.”

Whit burst up off the couch, “That’s bull, and you know it.” She had timed it exactly as it had happened in real life, but the words and actions were to something else. She strode away, as she had done before.

Josiah drawled, “Don’t trust anybody, and they won’t let you down huh?” He looked to where Amanda settled against the couch, a knowing look in his eyes.

Whit frowned, caught between this new narrative and the old. “What are you gonna do with your research?” She asked Amanda, following the script.

“What are you gonna do when you end up alone?” Josiah asked her, voicing a question she hadn’t ever wanted to ask herself. But it was one she had pushed down and hidden when she had wondered earlier in the night. When Amanda had made it sound like she was breaking things off with her. Now the conversation with Amanda froze, the one with Josiah seeming to have made a pocket of time that existed outside of it. The question she had scarcely allowed herself to think kept her from continuing the original conversation.

Was Whit the storyteller here? Or was Josiah somehow asking the exact right questions as she was telling her tale? Josiah rubbed his fingers over the design etched into the compact, staring at her. “If they only know what you show them…” he trailed off and held up her mirror, raising his eyebrows knowingly.

Whit shook her head and whispered, confused and a little scared, “It’s just a compact.”

Josiah raised his eyebrows again, his question not needing to be said allowed. Is that really all it is? The silence stretched for a long moment, potent with the unasked words.

Josiah broke it by asking, “What does Nikki need right now?”

The jump in thought made Whit’s brows furrow, made her lick her lips and consider the question. “If they are going to catch her and I can’t stop it?” Josiah made an agreement noise. Whit thought for a moment more and said, “She is going to need to be strong.” She thought of all those who changed after they were burned. The husks of people mechanically doing what they were told to do, or those who were burned so badly they could do nothing. Of Nikki’s father. “To retain who she is no matter what they do to her.”

Josiah looked at her closely. “And who’s the expert at putting up walls?” He asked her slowly, pointedly.

The questions sunk into Whit, altered her in a way she wasn’t sure of.

Just then, the conversation with Amanda clicked back into play. “This isn’t some fairytale,” Amanda bit out, shifting Whit slowly back to what had happened. “This is about saving people here, in the real world.” What was the difference between a fairytale and real life when it was all a story?

Josiah shifted in his seat, looking at Amanda. “Is that really what you think archanology is doing?” Whit asked softly, disbelieving.

“Yes. I damn well do think that.” Amanda punched out, every line of her rigid with the strength of her conviction.

Whit felt Josiah’s eyes on her again, but she just shook her head at Amanda. “Who are you?” She backed up and collected her jacket.

“Whit!” Amanda bit out, disbelieving. “Wait!”

Whit spun around as she had before, but this time was… different. She wasn’t angry anymore. She was sad. How had she failed to reach this coldness in Amanda? How had she missed the signs of this fervency? Or was it more likely she had just ignored them? Her philosophy of not asking questions so others wouldn’t ask questions about her. If she hadn’t walled away her emotions, and avoided all potential conflict, could they have talked about this? Discovered a way for Amanda to soften and see just what archanology was taking away from people?

Whit shook her head, looking to where Josiah still sat and played with her compact, drawing her eyes to it. No more walls, no more hiding her truth away in a mirror. “I need some space,” she told Amanda, voice trembling slightly. Amanda’s attitude changed from indignation, softening and confused. “I do love you, but I feel like we are lost in the woods without a compass.” She stepped toward Josiah and he offered up her bag.

Whit slung it over her shoulder and stared at Amanda, shaking her head slightly. This was strange, this whole conversation taking on a new cast and feel. She needed to think about, think it through.

Behind her, Amanda shut parted lips, her eyes fluttering as she looked down, expression changing to something Whit couldn’t decipher.

Whit closed the door to the Collaborative in her story. A sudden flash of her drawing the card from Josiah’s deck played in her mind, and then she opened her eyes to life.

It was morning. Pre-dawn. The sky a blue bright enough to see. She was where she had sat, wrapped in the blanket she had been in last night. Only this time she was alone. The trashcan fire was burnt to ash, the stumps where the group, the Strowlers, had been arranged were still in a circle but lacked any signs that they had been occupied at all.

She stood and threw off her blanket, confused. Had she fallen asleep somehow? And they had just left her? Or maybe she had had a mental breakdown after leaving Amanda in anger, thought she had found Strowlers, but in fact just wandered here and fallen asleep?

No. She looked down at the card in her hand. The Storyteller, the labyrinth. It had all happened, but nothing had changed. And somehow it was the next morning.

Whit looked up, and saw the main A.R.C. building in Seattle, framed through power lines and cargo cranes. Whit firmed her jaw. Her little foray into pretend hadn’t done anything. She had to get to work and figure out what to do to help Nikki.

Angrily she crossed her jacket tighter and started walking the miles she needed to cross. Looking down at the card she held, the design on the trashcan, she huffed out a breath and shook her head. What a waste of a night. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it to the side and continued to walk to the library.

[hanniiesuckle17]

My Little Survivor  (HobixY/N)

Not requested

Synopsis:   You are a contestant on the reality tv show, Survivor. You made it to the 26 days and the merge. Its the episode where each survivor gets a chance to spend a day with their loved one. Hoseok surprises you even though he was supposed to be on tour.

You are a American who works as a choreographer for several companies in South Korea and America and one in Japan. After your twenty-first birthday, you got a call, while you were sitting on the couch with your boyfriend Hoseok, enjoying the small amount of time you had together before he left for tour. On the other end, was the caster for Survivor, saying you got picked for the next season, All-Stars vs Rookies. You screamed on the phone started jumping up and down. Telling Hoseok, he joined you. and jumped up and down on the couch excited for your chance to win. You put it on speaker and you both stood on the couch and listened to the information, only you understanding because it was in English. “Okay, you’ll get an email soon that has some information we require for the show. We will expect you to be ready for shooting at any time during the week of the 21st of September.” Hoseok looked at you as your face fell. “That’s the week I’m supposed to go on tour with you.” He shook his head as the lady on the phone asked if anyone was there. “Don’t worry about me jagi, this is once in a lifetime thing.”

The call ended and you both called the boys and the screams over the phone almost burst the speaker. They came over and champagne was popped and everyone celebrated. Hoseok and you finally lay down in bed about two am, after celebrating again *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*. He lay asleep next to you with his arm across your legs and slowly stroking your skin, through his deep sleep. You sat against the headboard scrolling through the forms on your phone. One of the last questions on the page was, “Choose a loved one and provide any and all contact information as well as an alternate person.” You sigh, knowing exactly what this was for. Hoseok would be on tour, but he would be the person you wanted to see if you made it to the family episode. There would be almost no way to get him, but you put down his name and all the contacts you could think of. Needing one more person you put down your childhood and current best friend, F/N, who lived in the US. Putting your phone down after finishing the forms, you laid down into Hoseok’s form. He hummed in response. “Y/N I’m so proud of you.” He said in a sleepy voice. “You do whatever you have to do get as far as you can, but be yourself okay, love.” He mumbled a couple more things before pecking your lips and falling asleep.

You ran a hand through your hair. The next challenge was just around the corner. You played with the necklace Hoseok gave you as heavy rain poured down from the trees. You had gotten used to the cameras in your face and didn’t even notice them anymore. “This must be how Hoseok feels.” You muttered under your breath. “Hey, Y/N!” Someone yelled. You looked down to see Ozzy coming up from the beach multiple fish in hand. He looked different from the times I had seen him on tv, watching with Hobi, who may I add he did not know about. Hoseok and I had this argument many times over. He always thought that single people made it farther in the game. I decided to go with his argument this time. This came to mind as Ozzy put down the fish and put an arm around my shoulder.

“Y/N, grab your jacket. Let’s go get some water for the pot.” I nodded and he stood by the fire as I grabbed my oversized and pretty dirty jacket, I had brought with me. Putting it on, I put my hand securely in the pocket. Ozzy’s hand went to my back as we ran out into the rain, towards the other trail, leading to the watering hole. We rain through the rain and some of the camera crew followed us. Halfway there we took another trail and made sure no one followed us when we stopped. “I still have the idol. I don’t think we should play it this round though.” Saying this, you pulled the idol out of your pocket. Once you found it, you immediately shared it with Ozzy the only real person you trusted in your ‘alliance’. “We should get rid of Malia while we still can. She isn’t going to win the next challenge we haven’t had a real intelligence or endurance challenge in the past two weeks. We’ve got this as long as you, me, Scott, or Amanda win the next one.”

He nodded. “I agree. I don’t trust Amanda, though. I’m pretty sure she flipped and tried to vote me out last time. I don’t know why she thought she had the numbers though.” The two of you talked a little more and came up with a strategy before going back to camp. You walked back in the rain, his arm around your shoulders and yours around his waist. You held each other close as the cold drops beat down. “What took you guys so long? Bet you were making out with Y/n, weren’t you Ozzy?” Parvati said with her signature smirk. “Of course we were.” He said and pressed a long kiss to your cheek. When he pulled away, you gave a forced laugh, and jokingly gave him a slap on his other cheek, his face still close to yours.

Y/N POV:

A few hours later, all the contestants walked to the sight of the challenge. The rain had stopped and now the eight of us were just walking in mud. “Afternoon, Survivors!” Jeff said in his signature blue shirt. We lined up on the mat on the beach. Looking out at the water, I knew exactly what this challenge was, from my years of watching. There were fourteen-foot poles in the water with notches carved around them. “Well survivors, you probably recognize this challenge from past seasons.” I nodded with a few others, Ozzy beside me. Good thing I had my bathing suit under my tank top and shorts.

“We thought we’d give it a twist this season. The eight of you have been on this island for twenty-six days now.” Ozzy put his arm around me. I could feel his fingers crosses. “We know you have been missing the people closest to you, so we are closing the distance.” There were gasps and I jumped up and down. Who was I going to see? Would I see F/N or the man I couldn’t stop thinking about? “Scott, step forward.” My friend stepped forward looking like he was about to cry. “Scott, who are you expecting to see?” He really did start crying. “My best friend. She said she would come if her parents said yes to what we asked them before.” Jeff nodded towards the trees and out walked a girl with red hair a little shorter than me in a nice loose dress. She smiled and he ran to her, enveloping her in a hug. I smiled at the cute reunion.

Person after person was called until there were three left. Me, Ozzy, and Malia. “Ozzy, step forward. We all know you are a big momma’s boy, so go on and give her a hug.” A woman I assumed was Ozzy’s mom came out and they rejoiced. I looked awkwardly down at my feet. Malia stepped forward and her sister came out.

Jeff looked at me. “Y/n, step forward.” I hesitantly did and felt the tears start to brim in my eyes. I didn’t think I would make it to the Loved One's Challenge. “Y/n who are you expecting to see?” He asked emphasis on the fifth word. I looked up. “F/n, my best friend. I’m really excited to see her.” I nodded trying to hold back this gnawing feeling in my gut. “But, it isn’t who you really want to see.” “I love her very much, but no.”

He laughed. “Well, we tried your first option, but, your boyfriend couldn’t come overseas this quickly. Your friend also had business she had to take care of.”

I nodded sadly. I was the only person in the history of Survivor, not to have a loved on visit them. “So, we got the next best thing. We managed to get a musical artist to come visit you.” I sadly smiled, while the others oohed and ahhed. I looked up to see a head of orange hair coming out of the tree line. His eyes met mine and I literally screamed.

He smiled and ran towards me. He enveloped me in the biggest hug of my entire life. Hoseok held me close to him and peppered my face with the quick touch of his lips. My hands found his cheeks to make sure he was really here and then pressed my lips against his. He pulled away and wiped a tear from his face. “Oh, Jagi, you have no idea how much I missed you and how proud of you I am.” Hearing the familiar language was like music to my ears. All I had heard was English so it was good to hear it again.

“Y/n, can you tell us who this is? I’ve never seen a celebrity let a fan do that to them.” Jeff said with a laugh. I looked over to him and then glanced at Ozzy to see a stone-cold stare at Hoseok. “This is my boyfriend, Hoseok. I have dual citizenship and live in South Korea, where I work sometimes. The last time I saw him was our apartment there four months ago before he left for tour.” Hoseok nodded with a smile, still holding me. (*gif*) Jeff directed his gaze to Hoseok. “So, Hoseok?” He nodded, hearing his slightly mispronounced name. “What did you do to come and visit Y/n here in Panama.” He looked to me and I translated what Jeff said. He spoke for a while looking only at Jeff and glancing at the people around him. I brought my hand to my mouth to try and hold the tears back.

Jeff turned to me. “Y/n, can you tell us what he said? By your reaction, it must be so moving.” I nodded and took a deep breath. Hobi, let loose his grip and kept his hand on my waist and rubbed familiar patterns into the skin. “He said that he asked his manager to make an extra two tour stops, last minute, in Brazil and Columbia. And that his bandmates, helped get him from the new shows to the airport in time to fly over to Panama to meet the crew here.”

A couple of the girls like out awwws. “Well you two, go join the rest over on the mat and I’ll explain the rules.” We walked over and Hobi whispered in my ear over and over how much he missed me. I stopped him with a squeeze of his hand so, I could hear the rules.

“Okay survivors, each of you will climb to the top of a pole. There you will hang by your feet and toes on notches starting at the size of a half a stick of gum and going down from there as you get closer to the bottom. This is a test of endurance and strength, so one standing wins.” I translated everything Jeff said into Hobi’s ear. He nodded along picking up some of the words he knew by himself.

“So let me tell you what you are playing for. The winner gets to spend the night in our survivor suite with their loved one. You will be provided with room service and all the perks of a real hotel. So get on up those poles and we will see how much you want this time with your family and friends.” Hoseok wished me good luck and kissed me sweetly before taking my stuff. I threw off my shorts and tank top and put my tribe buff over my suit top as an extra layer. Hobi went and sat down where all the other family members were standing. He cutely introduced himself to Ozzy’s mom in his limited English.

Jeff told us to swim out to a pole and I swam towards the green one. Ozzy swam next to me. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He stated. “Why? You seriously aren’t going to question our alliance based on the fact I’m not really single, are you?” He just shook his head. “Just stick to the plan. Immunity or not, Malia and Amanda can’t win.

It had now been an hour. Four of the people left holding on. Random soft cheers of encouragement were heard from family. Ozzy still hung on next to me in the middle of the poll. Malia was two notches from the bottom, as well as Scott and I was holding steady at three notches from the top. There was sweat on my body from holding on so tight. I looked over at Ozzy and he nodded at me. I gave him a short one in response and readjusted slightly. Jeff narrated the status of the players. I locked eyes with Hoseok, and he gave me a smile of encouragement and shouted for me to hold on. Just as we hit an hour and ten minutes Scott, gave out and fell in the water.

Seconds after he did, it started to rain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ozzy readjust. “Ozzy, no it’s-” But he fell in the water, as the rain started to really come down. “Ah, shit.” My foot slipped a little bit, but I recovered. Jeff stood and recounted everything in the rain. Through the rain I saw Hoseok, orange hair clinging to his face, and his tank top and jeans drenched and hanging off his lean body. “Come on, Jagi! You’ve got this! She’s gonna fall off!”

“Hobi-ah! I love you, but could you hold off for a second.” I said back in Korean with a joyous laugh. He laughed and sat back down, watching me with determination. It took only five more minutes for Malia to drop and she came out of the water with a disappointed look on her face. “Y/N wins reward!” Jeff yelled over the weather. I screamed in delight and jumped off the pole. I swam to shore and ran to Hobi! By the time I got there, it was only drizzling. He ran to me and picked me up spinning me around. He pressed his lips against mine as he put me down. I wiped the tears off his cheeks and returned the sunshine smile he was giving to me.

 “Okay, congratulations on your reward. Now, here is an extra part to the prize,” Jeff said with a smile.

Masterlist