#yet another reason for my cry fest this evening

[god-has-entered-my-body]

an amish lifestyle is looking mightyfine right about now

[meanbossart]

What horror games have you played/wanted to play? Also have you tried any rpg maker horrors?

I actually don't play that many horror games, I don't think? Between you and me most of them are... Kind of garbagee. But I like when really weird things are taken dead seriously, which most video games don't succeed at. But in the rare time they DO, it usually falls into the "horror" genre at least loosely. I'm just going to list my favorites:

PS: I'm really showing how insufferable I am with these summaries, sorry!

The Outlast series: the most Tasteful tasteless gory-shit-fest of a horror series I've ever seen. I don't like shock for the sake of shock, and Outlast somehow manages to always make it for the sake of SOMETHING. The original game+DLC is a buttload of fun, and if you pull back one layer it also poses some interesting and difficult questions about the place and treatment of the criminally inclined in society. Pull yet another layer back and you find a fascinating subversion of the expected role men are supposed to inhabit in horror games. The second game is a vastly different, and profoundly emotional experience, opinions on it vary for reasons I find very understandable, but I personally really like it.

Fear & Hunger: I guess this answers your question about RPG horror games! Unfortunately, this is the only one I ever played that I liked, but REALLY like it, I have a tattoo of the circle of perfection on the back of my hand, even, lol (I already had other hand tats, don't freak out). I just really like the absurdity of the story and all of the lore that the developer has cooked up for it, and the way it all matters but also kind of doesn't. I think its an insane feat to have achieved the atmosphere he did with the limited tools he has, not to mention the massive amount of respect I have for any creator that simultaneously wears their influences on their sleeves while displaying massive creativity and originality.

Pathologic: This game kind of speaks for itself honestly. Its just brutal, creative, infuriating, I could go on - It's probably the most immersive experience I've ever had in a game. If you've never played it before I would suggest buying Pathologic 2 (don't worry about it) and playing it completely blind. Forget about "winning", forget even about succeeding, just go about it as if you were in the protagonist's shoes and see where you leads you.

Scorn: Without a doubt in my top 5 games of all time and I don't care that that is an insane take. This game is everything I want from interactive stories - entirely intuitive, doesn't spoonfeed you a single grain of its lore or pushes its story on you, it just puts the pieces in your hands and its up to you to feel it on instinct. This 5 hour game with no dialogue, no text, not even any named characters to speak of had me crying at its ending and I didn't even know whether I was sad or overjoyed. I fucking LOVE scorn.

Honorable mention:

The Space Between by Christoph Frey (not to be confused with The Space INbetween.): Is a short, 30 minute experience about intimacy presented through a horror lens. I really don't want to say anything else about it, but I played it like 5 years ago and I still hold it near and dear to my heart. It's a master's guide to storytelling through semiotics and exemplary in it's... Emotionally charged visuals? Like, I had never before seen a story make sentiment into and external, tangible thing quite like this one does, like turning sound into an object or something. Amazing little indie game.

[schmem14]

It’s my birthday! Celebrate with me by reading my top favorite fanfic discoveries this past year. (Feel free to flail with me in DM’s!) I feel so lucky to have found so many wonderful talented friends and amazing stories! 

1. flour and flesh by foxglovetonic (nocturn) Hermione x Pansy, wc: 666 rating: M

(Mind the tags) This sapphic horror fic gripped my soul from the moment I read it and it lives rent-free in my head because of its amazing imagery and masterful use of unreliable narrator. I’ll be forever creeped out by carving pumpkins and pie (but in the BEST way, I swear!) This is the #1 reason Halloween is my fav. 

2. Usually by @lumosatnight Percy x Oliver, wc: 1k, rating: E

What’s not to love about banter, chess as foreplay, and stripping down until there’s nothing left but heart-pounding hot AF sex? This pairing is fantastic, and Lani’s writing is on point, as always, and I was incredibly impressed by the real live chess match taking place in the background. Read it, you won’t regret it! 

3. drink up, boys by @emilyrickman gen work featuring Parvati Patil, wc: 1.5k, rating: M

(Mind the tags) I URGE you give this gripping revenge story a chance! Between Parvati’s confidence and the absolute heartbreaking and empowering ode to sisterly love, this story gave me goosebumps. Emily is such a great writer, and I can’t stress enough how well the feels come through on this one. Also, give the song What It Means To Be a Girl by EMELINE a listen as you read, it will elevate the whole experience! 

4. One Woman’s Trash by @nanneramma Lavender x Hermione wc: 2k, rating: T

My friend Nan can do it all, and I don’t care that coffee shop AU has been done a thousand and one times before, THIS is the one to read! Lavender is to die for in this, and the fluff is pure, gourmet sweetness. It will have you kicking your feet and squealing by the end. 

5. Head Over Heels by @vdoshu Narcissa x Mrs. Zabini, wc: 575, Rating: M

This itty bitty fic is singlehandedly feeding my Narcissa Mommy delusion. I want her to step on me SO BAD! Ugh. Doshu packs a punch with every story, and the punchline of this one is sure to have you gasping like a beached fish. Please come scream at me about it if and when you know what I mean. 

6. Welcome, Peasants by @fluxweeed Draco x Ron x Harry, wc: 15k, Rating: E

It was nearly impossible for me to pick just ONE of my favorite fics from Dronarry fest this year, but I narrowed it down to two. Strap in for an hour and immerse yourself because the payoff is WORTH IT!  This one blends the juicy polyjuice trope with a healthy dollop of mistaken identity and a pinch of jealousy. Better yet is the twisty reveal and the absolutely smut-tastic finale that follows.

7. For I Have Found Salvation by @lumosatnight Severus x Harry, wc: 7k, Rating: E

Yes Lani, I couldn’t resist another! I feel like I have to preface this by saying I’m not usually a Snarry fan, but this filthy Priest AU fic is EVERYTHING. The dynamic of guilt and forbidden church sex (while church is IN SESSION) is so fucking delectable. I’m going to just say it and embarrass myself: Insta-Wank Bank. Yep. 

8. Nightswimming by @sweet-s0rr0w Draco x Ron (x Harry), wc: 5k, Rating: M

…Which brings me to my SECOND Dronarry fest pick from this year, and I love it so much because it’s all banter and hypotheticals. Draco and Harry are a couple, but Draco and Ron share a car ride where it comes out that maybe they’ve been considering a three-way with Ron. They don’t even fuck, but the tension of them just talking about it is too hot to handle. Bonus: There’s art at the end! 

9. Mistletoe Mojito by @amethystheart2421 Sybill x Severus, wc: 3k, Rating: E

This fic knocked me flat on my ass. This lust potion fueled one-night stand fic had me laughing and crying (from hilarity and absurdity and sadness) all at once. Such delightful writing, and the perfect example of crack taken seriously. 

10. All That Is Beautiful, Burns In The Making by @sailtomarina Narcissa x Bill, wc: 8k, Rating: E

Narcissa is hot. Bill is hot. We all know this from canon, but imagine they get together and how much hotter they are as a couple! This fic contains such delights as werewolf Bill, seduction, forbidden love, infidelity, knotting, endless refractory periods, voyeurism, rough sex, and mating. It’s not quite A/B/O but it has a lot of the elements that make it such a juicy AU.

11. A Perfect Answer by @p1013 Draco x Harry wc: 9k, Rating: E

Downton Abbey AU. Harry is Draco’s valet and the love is very much forbidden. Contains: pining, jealousy, decorum, emerald cufflinks that Draco favours, and BATHS. Something about it reminds me of Jane Eyre, though I know that’s a different time period and there’s no crazy wife in the attic. I loved this fic so much because it was a well-written AU and it brought a breath of fresh air to an old favorite otp. The angst is divine, and the ending is such a lovely payoff. Enjoy! 

[thestrangestthing89]

So I'm rewatching season 4 and I think there is another scene with Mike we haven't gotten all of yet (along with the scene of him and Hopper in the car in S3). The fight between Mike and El in Lenora seems like it was also cut off. El is upset and crying and Mike says "I care for you so much". It's the Dawsons Creek reference. Jack says this line to Joey when he's breaking up with her. That was his lead in to telling her he's gay. The next scene we see of them they are coming down the stairs (when the police come) and El is visibly calmer - at least until she gets arrested when she gets upset again. She stopped crying - she was still very much in the middle of a cry fest when we saw her a few minutes before. It seems like some time has passed. Not only that but when Mike first goes to talk to her, he's eating breakfast with Will and Jonathan is there reading the paper. The conversation we saw with Mike and El was about 2 min so Will and Jonathan would have still been eating in the kitchen. But we see them in the living room watching tv before they open the door for the police. They are very comfortable here and look like they've been sitting there for a while. It implies that more time has passed.

So I think their conversation went on longer than what we see. And Mike saying to Will that his fight with her seemed more adult would now make sense if that's the case. I wrote something a while back that Mike is using El as a code for Will because scenes like this don't make sense if they are about El. His fight with her that we saw was very immature and not more adult like he says. I still think that could apply to Will. But if there is more to that scene than it could be something else.

If they did end up having a discussion like on Dawsons Creek that would feel more adult. I stand by my earlier assessment that Mike was planning on breaking up with her in Lenora and I think he maybe did that here. But they were in the middle of talking about it when the police showed up. So he felt even guiltier because he didn't fully get to explain himself. He spends the rest of the season being worried that he doesn't fit into her life at all. And it's because they didn't get a chance to discuss this fully before she ran off to the lab. He thinks she hates him now. When they reunite they don't even kiss or attempt to. Usually it's El who initiates those moments in their reunions but she doesn't. When they get to the pizza place El seems like she could be breaking up with him, but if there is more to that conversation she could just be picking up their conversation where they left off. Which is why Mike starts nervously rambling. Their interaction after is very sibling like and neither of them seems to think this is weird. And during his monologue El just seems annoyed. She knows he's full of shit to begin with but if they are already broken up and she knows why it would further explain her facial expressions during this moment. And would also further explain why they are so exasperated with each other at the cabin. We know they talked a little bit in the two day jump but it was about the situation with Henry. They don't have much else to say to each other about their relationship at this point so there was no reason for them to discuss more than that.

El also seems kind of annoyed with Will too which sticks out to me. He hasn't spoken to her at this point and we know that because he asks Mike if he has. It's like she's avoiding both of them. It makes sense if she knows how Mike feels now but she hasn't spoken to Will about it yet.

There are signs after they reunite with El at the lab that she is noticing Mike and Will. Several other people got into this more so I won't here, but it makes sense if she started paying more attention to Mike and Will after Mike explained his feelings in Lenora. She knows there is something to notice now and she was already starting to pick up on it before (at the airport and with Will's weirdness) she just didn't have enough info to connect the dots.

[sitp-recs]

Meddling, Menswear, and Magic - by @writcraft

Harry/Draco (2022, Mature, 18.7k)

Draco Malfoy is working in a job he hates and avoiding the magical world entirely, but he really is fine. When a bequest from Severus Snape brings Draco back to a much-changed magical world, he must find his place within it and navigate his growing attraction to Harry Potter in the process.

“Being unhappy seems like a good enough reason,” Harry says.

“Maybe I deserved to be unhappy for a while.” Draco meets Harry’s gaze and there’s a raw, open intimacy in it that makes Draco’s stomach flip.

I can’t believe I got obsessed fell in love with another fic as soon as I posted my 2022 wrap up, what is even my life 💀 I haven’t written a proper rec in 84 years and actually felt a bit anxious posting this but whatever, you only live once (or until Jan 3rd when I get back to work) etc etc. As a general rule I prefer not to rec ongoing Fest fics but I guess every rule needs an exception, right? I just didn’t want people to waste any time before checking this and closing the year with a single rec feels quite auspicious :) and maybe this will prompt MA to reveal themselves to me because I’m ready to kiss the ground they walk on

I’ve said before that my reccing process comes in waves and requires the kind of passionate frenzy that urges me to write while reading the fic, which I happen to experience very rarely nowadays. This only shows how much this story has affected me. Muggle Draco, found family, meddling Snape friends, coworkers to lovers, karaoke nights (!!!), master chef Harry, this fic has everything I adore and delivers every single detail masterfully, with heart and intent. Simply put, I am blown away. Not only by MA’s singular ability to reach inside my mind and tick my every box, but also by their build up and characterization skills, coming up with charming, fleshed-out characters and a delicious brand of playful banter that made my heart beat outside of my chest from their very first interaction at the Ministry. The unrelenting banter was so excellent and entertaining I could cry - I surprised myself giggling so many times imagining their faces while delivering those lines. Gotta love a sassy couple, peak romance!

The premise itself is unpretentious yet brilliant, bringing Snape back from the dead to articulate things and push the boys plot together. His presence is clever and powerful not only from a plot perspective, but also to help us understand a bit more about post-war Harry and Draco, as they take the responsibility for his legacy by continuing his research work. There’s a lot to unpack between Draco’s fierce loyalty and Harry’s resigned determination to see this through. But despite all the emotional depth, the vignette style, smooth pacing and light tone make it hard to believe this is almost 20k; it feels both longer and shorter, I’ve read it in one breath and was left aching for more.

The characters voices are also delight - this still snarky but also civil, restrained Draco offers a fabulous POV, and learning about Greg & Luna and about “new, older Harry” as perceived by him was an absolute joy. I’m desperate to know more about this Harry with his mellow and jaded persona, a tad mysterious and off-kilt but still lovely and lovable. I found him both charming and intriguing, in Draco’s own (again, top notch) assessment, a peculiar man indeed. And Draco is so thirst for him I could barely hold my excitement omg the tux fitting scenes are so deliciously laced with sexual tension! Their chemistry is off the charts and I melted alongside Draco at Harry’s intensity and single-minded focus. Trust me when I say the M rating is sexy enough!!!

On that note, something unique that I particularly loved about this story is how organically everyone interacts, characters often breaking tension at awkward moments with incredibly perceptive gestures or lines (e.g. the conversation with Ron or when Harry helps out in the kitchen on their first date). That made me feel even more immersed and close to the characters. Something about the way they see each other, open and tentative, gives the otherwise simple exchange an interesting nuance of tenderness and intimacy. Masterful writing 😔🤌🏼

Ugh, I can’t believe I found yet another 2022 favorite on the very last day of the year. I wish MA could have seen my face as I read their fic because I am certain the feeling of pure joy and wonder was written all over it. I haven’t felt this bubbly about a fic in a long time, it was the kind of story that gave me renewed hope to see 2023 as an open canvas, a year full of possibilities. Writing this rec took me over 45 min and nothing was able to wipe the smile from my face. I can’t thank you enough, my dear MA, for giving me such a special experience today of all days. This fic will always hold a special spot in my heart for it. Happy New Year!

Read on AO3

[hp-fruit-fest]

Another month down of fruity excellence, and the last of the year! We'll be back Spring 2024, but in the meantime, check out all the yummy goodies provided for us in June (and check back soon for a full fest roundup!)

FIC. Harry/Fred. Rated: G. Words: 209. Postwar. Fred lives.

Harry has to bake a cherry pie. Fred loves cherries

🍒 Read on AO3 🍒

FIC. Barty/Evan. Rated: T. Words: 6,098. Poetry. Psychopaths in love. Pureblood society. Ambiguous ending. English & French version.

The Rosier family organizes a ball. A late guest joins in. Between cherry flowers and the cherry fruit, reason and madness, duty and desire, Evan has to make a choice, which will reveal his true intentions and feelings. ------------------------------------------------------------ La famille Rosier organise un bal. Un invité de dernière minute s'y joint. Entre les fleurs et la cerise, la raison et la folie, le devoir et le désir, Evan doit faire un choix, qui révèlera ses véritables sentiments et intentions.

🍒 Read on AO3 🍒

FIC. Harry & Fred. Rated: G. Words: 187. Female Harry Potter. Pre-GoF.

Harry just wanted to study charms and eat her peach

🍑 Read on AO3 🍑

FIC. Draco/Harry. Postwar. France. Vineyards. Destitute Draco.

The thick, wooden door, held together with ancient iron straps, swung open with surprisingly little noise on well-maintained hinges despite its age and size. The absolute last person Draco could have ever expected stared at him in a subdued, frozen kind of horror once it was open. “No,” Harry Potter said evenly and calmly, as if Draco had asked him if he was supposed to be alive. “How?” Draco choked on the question so it left his mouth as little more than breath. “No!” Potter shouted as his hands flailed back and forth in desperate negation before diving into the bedlam of black hair, like they sought shelter from the moment. “‘Arry?” a feminine and heavily French voice called out. “Is it ‘im?” “Yes!” the presumed dead man in question shouted too loudly, as if he could no longer control his own volume. “But no, he won’t- we couldn’t- I-” A woman maybe just a bit past her middle age came up behind him as he stammered. Draco continued to stare. He couldn’t even sneer; he was shocked to his core. His chest held onto his surprise like a barely contained explosion. Harry Potter wasn’t dead. It felt like it should change everything, yet they remained staring at each other as if nothing ever would.

🍷 Read on AO3 🍷

FIC. Severus/Sirius. Rated: E. Words: 800. Postwar. Healing. "Strawberry Fields Forever."

Sirius debated going into the office, since he figured they were done for the day, when Severus came back with a bowl of strawberries in hand. Severus held a paring knife. "They're from my garden," he said as he sliced a strawberry into small pieces, juices sliding down his fingers and onto his arms, and held a slice out.

🍓 Read on AO3 🍓

FIC. Draco/Hermione. Rated: M. Words: 4,152. Religious inspiration. Biblical references. Lucius as God. Draco as Satan. Harry as Adam. Hermione as Eve. Deception. Porn With Plot.

Draco, bored with exile from Heaven and curious about the woman his father made from Harry's own rib, slides into the Garden of Eden with one goal in mind: to make Hermione eat the pomegranate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and ruin her for his own enjoyment. Instead, he finds himself losing a lot more than he bargained for.

🫙 Read on AO3 🫙

FIC. Gen. Alice/Frank. Hannah/Neville. Rated: G. Words: 449. Marauder's Era & Lightning Era. Love & Friendship.

There is only a reason they fight. To be free of laugh, cry, play, run, and be alive.

🍉 Read on AO3 🍉

FIC. Harry/Tom. Rated: T. Words: 411. Tom Riddle's Diary. Chamber of Secrets. Implied/Referenced Character Death.

Tom Riddle had managed to retrieve the body from the diary. Now, he wanted Harry on his side

🫙 Read on AO3 🫙

FIC. Harry/Severus. Rated: M. Words: 339. Blood kink. Knifeplay. Food play.

Severus laid bare on the white bedsheets. He was on his back, and the cold ceramic plate rested on his stomach. "It has been a good year," said Harry. He had a paring knife in hand as he sliced the mangoes before setting them on the plate.

🥭 Read on AO3 🥭

FIC. Harry/Terrence. Rated: T. Words: 6,530. 5+1 Things. Dating. Fluff. Farmer's Market.

5 times Terence and Harry were interrupted in the middle of a date and 1 time they weren’t.

🧺 Read on AO3 🧺

FIC. Charlie/Harry/Oliver. Rated: T. Words: 5,033. Fluff & angst. Breaking Up & Making Up. Time skips. POV Oliver. Minor Marcus/Oliver.

Charlie Weasley felt like summer and smelled like watermelon. Harry Potter felt like winter and smelled like pomegranate. Together, they felt like spring and smelled like home.

🫐 Read on AO3 🫐

FIC. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 3,469. Mpreg. Fluff & angst.

Severus' life is ruined.

☀️ Read on AO3 ☀️

ART. Draco/Harry. Rated: M. Digital art. NSFW art.

HP Fruit Fest 2023 Entry for "Lemon"

🍋 View on AO3 🍋

FIC. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 383. Blood kink. Knifeplay. Food play.

The ceramic plate smashed against the hardwood floor. Harry paused his movements — the mango half peeled in his hands. He placed the fruit — all its juices and flesh — onto the soiled bed sheets. “You shouldn’t have done that. What a waste.”

🥭 Read on AO3 🥭

ART. Ginny/Pansy. Rated: M. Digital art. Partial nudity. One night stand. Sensuality.

It only takes takes a single day for Pansy and Ginny to give each other something better.

🥝 View on AO3 🥝

FIC. Draco/Harry. Rated: T. Words: 16,774. Unspeakable Draco. Lost souls. First love.

Draco struggles with infertility and hopes to find the answer in a magical fig tree. His journey takes him to Aydin Turkey, where he meets another lost soul named Harry.

🫙 Read on AO3 🫙

FIC & ART. Hannah/Neville. Hermione/Pansy. Rated: G. Words: 699. Businesswoman Pansy. Minister Hermione. Cherry trees. POV Outsider. Engagement.

Pansy is seen doing ordinary things, tasting cherries! Neville is a witness. Hannah is right there. But, it's all because of Hermione.

🍒 Read on AO3 🍒

FIC. Harry/Draco. Rated: T. Words: 3,062. Postwar. Baking. Romance. Established relationship.

Baking is an unexpected hobby that Harry fell into a little over a year ago, nearly a decade after the war ended.

🍓 Read on AO3 🍓

FIC. Harry & Severus. Rated: G. Words: 2,666. Severitus. Domestic Fluff. Sprinkle of Angst. Past Child Abuse. Eating Disorder. Hopeful Ending. KidFic.

After having been rescued from the Dursleys, Harry continues to struggle with eating; and Severus struggles with watching Harry struggle - until a pomelo comes along.

🌱 Read on AO3 🌱

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Word Find Tag

I was tagged by @i-can-even-burn-salad, thanks Elli 💜

My words: blood/bleed, scream, impale and shatter

Your words: splatter, stain, swing, splinter

Tagging gently: @pleasestaywithmedarling, @burntcoffeewhump (hey how's your story going?), @little-peril-stories, @outpost51 (do you do these? feel free to ignore if you dont <3), and Open Tag

Gore Fest, Lesssgo! Cuz we all know I feel the bloodlust lol

Under the cut. For reasons. (graphic violence and torture :p)

The fact that I pulled these all from Shattered Dreams/the sequel and not from my whump series... 😂

Blood

Marcus turned, his movement catching her attention again as he presented her with his back. His arm moved, the arm holding the knife, and when he turned back around, he was holding up a tan strip, dripping with red, no, dripping with blood. Alaia stared, a roaring in her ears blocking out all sound, as Marcus strode over to her, holding out that strip like some sick kind of offering. She automatically held out her hands, and he delivered his gift into her waiting palms. It landed with a wet squelch, warm liquid sliding in between her fingers.

Scream

But the positioning meant he had a clear view of Marcus when the man flattened out her injured hand and stabbed the knife back through it, burying it in the wood. Blood pooled around her spasming fingers, the spread of dark crimson echoing the flashes of red in the loose strands of her hair as Alaia screamed, batting at him with her free hand, trying to twist out from under him.

Impale

“It, it, it feels cold!” Alaia stuttered, gasping for breath through her tears. “Please, Marcus, please! It hurts!”  Marcus laughed. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant at all.”  All at once the pressure vanished. Relief washed over her in a wave that left her shaking uncontrollably, sending sparks of pain shooting through her impaled limbs. The throbbing, along with the lingering coolness in her core, seemed minor in comparison and yet took over her senses in a way her other injuries could not.

Shatter (from fractured soul)

For a moment, Serin's muddled mind comprehended that he was glad. He blinked, and the light fractured. He blinked again, and the screaming changed to shouts and thuds and the splatter of something wet spraying across something hard. Words filtered through the sludge slowing Serin's thoughts. Fuck stop No they can't let us go Run! masks mist NOW Fucking shit dead? if we don't any means alive you dumbfuck get out! It didn't make sense. Serin blinked again, found his view had changed. Was bouncing. He moved past a figure splayed out on the floor, their eyes closed, red pooling behind their head, staining their blond hair pink. He watched a guard lazily swing his baton at a mage running past him. The crack as the silvery metal shattered the mage's knee echoed through the cavern. Another blink revealed chaos, a scene so far beyond Serin's comprehension he couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't understand why there were mages screaming and running and crying and guards shouting and chasing and hurting.

[aeoki]

Blackjack - Miracles Don't Exist: Chapter 10

Location: Star Fest Stage Characters: Shinobu, Yuzuru, Natsume & Mika Season: Winter

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Almost another hour later. “Star Fest” Venue No.20 “ES Building”. >

Mika: Ngh ahhhh~... D–Don’t cry, Naru-chan.

I–I didn’t mean to make you cry…

Arashi: Waaaaah! You’re so cruel – just so cruel, Mika-chan! What have you done!?

Y–You did that for me? To apologise for causing me so much trouble last year? And also as thanks for everything I’ve done for you every day? You prepared all that for me and even asked “Oshi-san” who’s overseas to help?

Y–You created a surprise performance just for me? This is the result of our friendship – something you produced in order to make me happy?

Of course I’m going to cry if you suddenly give something like that to me…!

Mika: S–Sorry. You didn’t like it…?

Arashi: There’s no way I wouldn’t not like it, you dummy! Mika-chan, you big dum-dum! My bestie! You’re the cutest in the world! I love you to bits!

You’ve created the best Christmas Eve for me! I always hoped for something to happen every year, but nothing ever did!

This year, it’s all your fault – waaaaaah!

You’re so cruel! I decided I wouldn’t cry on stage! I was going through such a hard time during “Tanabata Fest” and I didn’t even cry!

Why didn’t I cry? Well, it’s because crying isn’t beautiful! It’s not something I’d do!

But now, I’m bawling my eyes out this year all because of you! What are you going to do about this? You’re just downright cruel!

Also, it’s like Ritsu-chan’s in that corner, saying…

“I pretended to be lazy on purpose to bring your spirits down, so that I could lift them right back up to an all-time high.”

It’s like he’s saying that with a smug look on his face for no good reason and it annoys me so much! He shouldn’t try to raise his own stocks after taking advantage of other people’s behaviour!

I need to complain! I want to slap that advisor-pretending idiot straight across the face!

Don’t you dare move an inch, Ritsu-chan! And you too, Tsukasa-chan – you’re laughing even though you don’t know what’s going on! That goes the same for Leo-kun and Izumi-chan who’s here like it’s the most natural thing in the world, too~!

Mika: Ahh… N–Naru-chan left. So does this mean Naru-chan liked my surprise?

Yuzuru: Indeed. Narukami-sama must have left because she wanted to hide how shy she felt. I see she could make those sorts of expressions too – She’s always so calm and composed.

Hehe. Your hard work has paid off, Kagehira-sama. It was worth worrying and running over to lend a hand.

Mika: Yeah. Thanks a bunch, Yukkun. Oshi-san went overboard with the plannin’ and made it so that it’ll take a long time to set things up, so I don’t think I would’ve made it in time all by myself.

Yuzuru: No need to thank me. I was simply influenced by your friendship, Kagehira-sama. I simply wanted to support you, despite my limited abilities.

Mika: Ngh~ Thanks, though – really. Yukkun, you’re my precious friend, y’know~? ♪

Yuzuru: Right. I entered Yumenosaki because that’s how things naturally turned out, but it seems I was able to gain a lot more things than I would have imagined.

I’m simply thankful for that right now.

Merry Christmas.

Mika: Right, Merry Christmas ♪

Natsume: HeHE. It feels a bit silly making it sound like everything has come to a happy eND. “Star Fest” isn’t over just yET.

Mika: Ngh, Nakkun!? Why do you always appear out of nowhere? That’s bad for my heart!

Anyway, you look kinda tired? Are you okay?

Natsume: YeAH… ActualLY, I was called to visit a lot of the venues todAY – I’ve been performing on stage with a hoarse voiCE.

It seems Sora and Senpai are the saME. I’m calculative and definitely won’t save others out of goodwill bUT…

It looks like there are a lot more people who are grateful for “Switch” than I had expectED.

I thanked them with a smile on my face – on the stage they called me to appear oN. I said things like how I’m still able to stand on stage as an idol thanks to their suppoRT…

Those who gave up being idols during the “Bon Festival” in summer are now popular figures in the cyber worLD.

Those sorts of people thanked uS. They wore smiles on their faces that showed they didn’t think about the advantages or the disadvantages, and welcomed mE.

It might sound strange but I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shouldeRS.

The thought of having fun like an idiot without stopping to think even crossed my miND. I did some merrymaking here and there so I’m all exhausted nOW.

In realiTY, I shouldn’t be doing something that doesn’t align with my charactER.

Mika: Ahaha. Good for ya – I see you also had a happy Christmas Eve, Nakkun.

I was worried since you looked kinda desperate durin’ our “SS” Qualifying Round battle. It felt like you were smilin’ thoughtlessly on the outside, but you were actually walkin’ on thin ice…

Natsume: WeLL, thanks to yOU, I was able to have a pretty good time todAY.

StiLL, I can’t be this happy-go-lucky forevER.

I’m Natsume Sakasaki from “SwitCH” – a magician and fortune-tellER. A descendant of the lovable “Five OddbalLS”. 

My duty is to save those who have fallen off of that “big waVE”.

Natsume: No. It’s to make all living things hapPY.

It’s pointless if I’m the only one who reaches a happy endiNG. I’m only “Switch’s” Natsume Sakasaki if I can also make others happy, tOO.

Ŧwø ɏɇȺɍs Ⱥǥø, đᵾɍɨnǥ ŧħɇ Ɍɇvøłᵾŧɨøn, wɨnŧɇɍ wȺs ŧħɇ sɇȺsøn øf đɇsŧɍᵾȼŧɨøn.

Ŧħɇ ŧħɨnǥs Ɨ føᵾnđ ɇnđɇȺɍɨnǥ wɇɍɇ Ⱥłł ħᵾɍŧ Ⱥnđ đɇsŧɍøɏɇđ – đɨsȺᵽᵽɇȺɍɨnǥ fɍøm ŧħɇ wøɍłđ.

Ɨŧ wȺs Ⱥ sȺđ ᵽɇɍɨøđ øf ŧɨmɇ wħɇɍɇ ønłɏ Ⱥ fɍɇɇƶɨnǥ ƀɍɇɇƶɇ ɍȺǥɇđ øn.

ƀᵾŧ łȺsŧ ɏɇȺɍ, ŧħɇ ȼøᵾɍsɇ øf ŧħɨnǥs ȼħȺnǥɇđ. Ɇvɇɍɏønɇ łøøꝁɇđ ᵾᵽ Ⱥŧ ŧħɇ đȺƶƶłɨnǥ sŧȺɍs ŧħȺŧ ɇmɇɍǥɇđ Ⱥnđ ȼɇłɇƀɍȺŧɇđ.

ŧħøsɇ ȼɇłɇƀɍȺŧɨøns Ⱥnđ ᵽɍȺɏɇɍs ɍɇȺȼħɇđ ŧħɇ ħɇȺvɇns Ⱥnđ wɇ ᵾsħɇɍɇđ ɨn Ⱥ nɇw đȺƶƶłɨnǥ ɇɍȺ.

ᵾnđɇɍ øᵾɍ ƀɇłøvɇđ “ᵽɍøđᵾȼɇɍ’s” wɨsħ ŧħɨs ɏɇȺɍ, wɇ sŧȺnđ wɨŧħ øᵾɍ fɍɨɇnđs øf ɇꝗᵾȺł sŧȺnđɨnǥ Ⱥnđ, ŧøǥɇŧħɇɍ, wɇ ȼɇłɇƀɍȺŧɇ ŧħɨs ħøłɏ nɨǥħŧ.

Øᵾɍ fɇɇłɨnǥs Ⱥɍɇ ɉᵾsŧ ønɇ: Føɍ ŧħɨs mømɇnŧ – øᵾɍ ħȺᵽᵽɨnɇss – ŧø ȼønŧɨnᵾɇ ɇŧɇɍnȺłłɏ.

Wɇ đøn’ŧ ꝁnøw ħøw ŧħɇ “SS” wȺɍ wɨłł ŧᵾɍn øᵾŧ…

Ƀᵾŧ Ⱥs łønǥ Ⱥs wɇ ħȺvɇ øᵾɍ mɇmøɍɨɇs øf ŧħɨs ɉøɏøᵾs ȻħɍɨsŧmȺs Ɇvɇ Ⱥnđ øᵾɍ fɍɨɇnđsħɨᵽ, ŧħɇn øᵾɍ ɉøᵾɍnɇɏ ȺħɇȺđ sħȺn’ŧ ƀɇ ɇnvɇłøᵽɇđ ɨn đȺɍꝁnɇss.

Nøw, łɇŧ’s łɨǥħŧ ŧħɇm Ⱥłł.

Łɇŧ’s mȺꝁɇ ŧħɇ sŧȺɍs ƀɇfɨŧŧɨnǥ øf sᵾȼħ Ⱥ ƀłɇssɇđ ȻħɍɨsŧmȺs Ɇvɇ sħɨnɇ ƀɍɨǥħŧ.

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[melody-k-hart]

TW: domestic abuse, child abuse, and paranoia

I don't think about that day as often anymore

You'd think something that caused me six months or more of paranoia

At least six months of double and triple checking the front door was locked

Would have been something that still impacts me

Or maybe it does

Maybe it's present in the way I avoid the hospital in my home town, the last place I heard he worked

Maybe it's in the way that I watch carefully if there is a car that looks like his

The way I jumped a couple months back when I swore a man that looked just like him was him for a good minute

The way my heart started racing when I smelled his cologne in the hallway of my school

The way I'm terrified he'll stalk me till he can find a moment I'm alone and confront me, kidnap me, hurt me

When I do think about that day I think about how I acted

It started off with banging and my mother screaming, both of us waking up terrified that there was a robber in the house or someone trying to kill her

Then I heard him yelling

He was shouting some nonsense about being stabbed in the back, how my mother wasn't allowed to treat him like that, how she fucked up-

All lies and manipulation

I have no idea what went through my mother's mind when he started yelling but I knew she was terrified

I had never been able to have a say in their arguments, never allowed to point out which side was right even when I tried to look at it from an unbiased perspective, even though he was almost always wrong

My best option had been to deescalate the situation, I try to tell myself that

But I still remember the weakness I felt

As I opened my door, trembling from head to toe, absolutely terrified at the rage I heard in his voice

I asked him to have this conversation another time when he had calmed down

To have this conversation another time

Another time

I don't know why I thought there would ever be any sanity in this conversation he was trying to have

Sorry I mean rage fest

But hearing my terrified voice made my mother let him in her room

I didn't understand much of what was said

Just so much yelling

I remember shaking so hard, just trying to breathe, not yet crying because I had to be there

If he had tried anything, If he hurt her

Of course I would have to call someone

Of course this tragedy would land in my lap for my responsibility

He didn't though

Once things had calmed down my mom tried to have a conversation with all of us

Made me have a conversation with this man I wanted nothing to do with

He spoke about tragedies that happened to him, as if those were the reasons he was lashing out, no fault of his if he had been touched by a priest as a child right? No fault of his if his dad was never there for him and he had to raise his brothers right?

My mother decided to share my struggles against my consent to this man that had just terrorized us in an attempt to show we were all struggling with stuff

I barely said a word, just nodding to get away from this

We had several conversations with him

Probably more than several

Each time he deflected the blame, never seeming to understand what he did wrong, but always trying to play nice as if he could just get by until he was no longer under fire

He kept tripping on things though, going back to angry

I don't know how many times I told my mom

I want him out of this fucking house

Until he heard me one day and had another tantrum

That was another thing, any time he heard me complaining about him to my mom he would yell and scream at both of us as if I was the problem for ever not liking something he did

But, my mom kicked him out that day

He kept saying he had no where to go so my mom found him several places

He wanted none of them

He went back to his mommies only because he threatened to kill himself if she didn't let him back

He had to keep coming back for his things

It was the last time that made me paranoid about locking the door

See every time he was at the house after the day he blew up I would be so anxious I didn't want to sleep, eat, or go to the bathroom

I was so scared he would try something again

This time he decided to come in the house without talking to my mom

She took the house key from him

Told him whatever he had left she would drop off on his mother's porch

Banned him from the house once and for all

Locking the door behind him

And that lock became my safety blanket

I kept thinking if I left it unlocked and one day he became angry again he would break in and try to kill us

So I locked a thousand times

Made sure it was locked everytime I heard a noise

Took my brain so long to calm down, to realize he wasn't actually going to do that

A month after my mom banned him sbe still messaged him, trying to get him to work on himself, so maybe he could come back, like it could all be fixed

My mom meant a therapist

He sunk deeper into the 'spirtuality' rehtoric he had been trying to recuit my mom into the night before he blew up, why she locked her door that night not wanting to talk after he tried to get her to join a cult

Why he felt he was back stabbed

None of this however is why I bring this up

Why I bring this up is because of a dream I had a month or so back and how I think about that day in my head now

The dream only had one vivid part, he was in our house for some reason, I remember realizing on some level I was dreaming and he said some bullshit

In my dream I jumped him and started bashing his head into the fucking floor

How I think about that day now is filled with anger

How I want to go back and take the baseball bat from the front hall and bash him over the head with it

How even though I'm starting to hate my mother she is my family

She is my mess to deal with

How even if I hate her guts she is part of me

How I am so possessive of it

How I want to kill anyone who hurts what I care about

Cause she is my mother god damn it

And fucking no one

No one

Is allowed to hurt what is mine

[startrekfangirl2233-fic-recs]

"Attention on Deck!" Jake and Bradley stood in sync in the empty hanger, the sound of metal chairs scraping across the hard stone floor. Much like the day they were called in for the Uranium run, the space had been turned into a mock classroom. Only two desks sat before the podium this time, and Jake and Bradley were the only ones who had been requested to report. Jake kept his eyes forward as two pairs of footsteps echoed off the hangar floor behind him. Cyclone appeared in the corner of his eye, the man holding two manila envelopes and a thick black binder. He wondered what awaited him or Rooster in those files. While Maverick had torn them apart for the dramatic display, he wouldn't be surprised if Cyclone suddenly decided that wasn't enough.

Oh my god. Here we go. This has to be a deployment, right?

This was the literal fucking definition of a suicide run. Rooster suddenly pipped up from beside him as Cyclone paused. "Has the rest of the Squad been briefed, sir?" Cyclone started him down, his face emotionless. "You misunderstand me, son." Maverick bowed his head as Cyclone continued, "Only the both of you are going. This is a two-person run."

I cannot. A two person run?! It's not possible. LUCKY!

Time. That's what was on Jake's mind. How much time did he have left? How much time did he have left to make it right? How much did he have left to give to you? And make it up to Sadie? He jolted slightly when Cyclone hit the edge of his binder against the edge of the podium. "Get your affairs in order," the older man commanded, walking away. " You have till 22:00 today."

"You have till 22:00 today." THAT'S NOT LONG ENOUGH! HE HAS TO FIX THINGS WITH LIZ! AND TELL SADIE HE LOVES HER. AND TELL LIZ HE LOVE HER!

It wasn't as if you didn't know what you should be thinking about. You were thinking about all of it... Tyler, Sadie, Jake... and.. No, not that one yet. Each thought was laid out in your head like an itemized list, neatly written and bullet-pointed. Each stood out on their own, colour-coded and organized into categories to the point you couldn't do anything more with them. Picturing each in your mind was easy, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything beyond that.

This is so beautiful and so heartbreaking Lucky! Why are you doing this to me?!

“Jake?” "I thought we would have more time," he heaved roughly. "I thought we had all the time in the world to figure this out. For me to find a million different ways to say I'm sorry for what I said. For what I did." The corners of your mouth quivered, and your eyebrows furrowed, knitting together. "No matter the length of time, I never would have gotten it right. Because there is no right way to apologize for what I said,” he lamented.

Here we go. (It ain't pretty when stars cry. Here's the warning)

He dropped his head again, shaking it while doing so. “At least a month, maybe two.” A month, even two, was too long. Not when… You didn’t even know. You didn’t even know what to say or to do. Because Jake had hurt you, had protected you, and then shown up on your literal doorstep late at night before another deployment to leave all his cards on the table.

All the cards on the table?! Liz is his endgame huh?

Said the first thing he did was kick the hell bringer off the ranch. I didn’t trust him. But then Janet called, saying his name was on the deed for some tax reasons, so George had every right.

Pausing the regularly scheduled sob fest for..... HELL YESSSSSSSS!!!!! It's about damn time George!

It wasn’t a shock when Jake slid his hand over the top of yours, gently curving his fingers around your wrist. In fact, you let him, allowing him to pull you towards him as he stepped closer gently.

Awww Jakey! My baby! I cry now.

Jake huffed a small laugh, reaching up to stroke a piece of hair away from your face. “I shouldn’t have said those words to begin with. And not that it’s worth anything, I’m so sorry they did.”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

"I'm in love with you, Elizabeth Beck." A strangled sob tore from your throat, attempting to pull your hand out of Jake's and your face away from his touch. He was quicker, tugging you forward into his chest with a hand on the back of your neck. You were too weak to protest, allowing yourself to be pulled towards him.

I I I.... LUCKY?!

"I'm not saying it to hear it back. I'm telling you so you never doubt that I do."

Damn this man! Damn his fucking timing

You hate him. You hate him. Except you don’t.

I hate you. I hate you.

Except I don't.

It’s you two or nothing at all,” he croaked, before adding, “I broke my ways for a literature-loving bartender and her ten-year-old niece because they both chose me knowing I am probably the most flawed human being, besides that asshole, ever to grace their path.” You sobbed at that.

"For me, giving you them is... it's not just some sentimental crap. It's me leaving a bit of myself with you, no matter what happens."  Your breath hitched, and as he dropped the tag, a new weight was placed on your chest. The fog around you seemed to grow thicker, and if you didn't know any better, you would have blamed it for constricting your breath. 

I can't. I can'. I cannot. Holy shit no I cannot.

Water and Sand, a Mona Lisa smile. Math homework and Sadie's cheeky smile. Yellow flowers in apologetic hands. Dirty dishes and clean slates. A game of darts and an almost kiss. Walking next to mountains and trees. Poloarids, video chats, and scary moments. Fireworks on New Year's Eve, to a slow dance in safe arms.  Thunderstorms and Sadie's tears to passionate kisses. First dates, Ferris wheels, Sadie in the hospital, and Jake catching your tears. Bradley lashing out, and Jake standing by.  Purple blues and orange-reds, the sunset colours that made you cry for your sister for the first time since you don't remember when.  Looking back on what was leaves you wondering what will be.

Fuck you for making me cry and then robbing my breath with such beautiful imagery, Lucky. FUCK. YOU.

You put everything into that kiss, struggling to breathe, fearing you would lose him before you could ever truly be with him.

"fearing you would lose him before you could ever truly be with him" That is all.

"I do forgive you,“ you rushed out in a breath. “I forgive you for all your faults and everything you will ever do to me, whether you are Jake Seresin or fucking Hangman. Life is short, and... and.. if I woke one morning to find you were gone,  I would never find the strength to carry on had you not known that I lo.." Jake didn't let you finish, quickly grabbing the sides of your face to kiss you roughly, all open mouth and tongue. You whimpered into his mouth, struggling to breathe and to keep up with the onslaught.

I CANNOT. Lucky why?!

"Tell the bug she was right," it's a whisper against your lips. "And I'm sorry I disappointed her too."

BUT YOU DIDN''T JAKE! SADIE LOVES YOU!

You pressed your fingers to your lips, the other clutching his dog tags over your heart. Come back to us, Jake. Please.

He has to come back safe and sound Lucky! He has to. Otherwise Imma make a pilgrimage up north and I dunno sob on your front porch while feeding Yoshi carrots?! I'm DEVASTATED. My nose is all stuffy and I've got tear trails on my cheeks.

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 18 - Sapling

📖 This is it - The one song that inspired this entire fic. It’s so bittersweet I’ve gotten to this point. When I posted Part 1: Be Still, a small part of me thought I’d never get here.

I know everyone is probably sick of me saying thank you, but I honestly cannot stop. I could have never imagined the support or the amount of people who’ve loved this story as much as I’ve loved writing it. Whether you’ve been here since I posted all those months ago or just started reading, I cannot describe how important each and every one of you is to me.

Here’s Part 18: Sapling - The one I’ve been waiting for 💛

(If there was ever a song to listen to for this story, even though I know most of you guys don't, this one is it. I hope you do💛) . It's Liz through and through/and the one after this one, but more on that later.)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, sexual themes, angst, fluff, deployments, apologies, and mentions of shitty family dynamics.

# 5k words

Part 17 | Masterlist | Part 19

"Attention on Deck!"

Jake and Bradley stood in sync in the empty hanger, the sound of metal chairs scraping across the hard stone floor. Much like the day they were called in for the Uranium run, the space had been turned into a mock classroom. Only two desks sat before the podium this time, and Jake and Bradley were the only ones who had been requested to report.

Jake kept his eyes forward as two pairs of footsteps echoed off the hangar floor behind him. Cyclone appeared in the corner of his eye, the man holding two manila envelopes and a thick black binder. He wondered what awaited him or Rooster in those files. While Maverick had torn them apart for the dramatic display, he wouldn't be surprised if Cyclone suddenly decided that wasn't enough.

But Jake could only think it made sense the patterns and exercises they had been flying for the past week were in preparation for something greater.

At least, he hoped they weren't getting kicked out.

But as Cyclone each tossed a folder in front of him and Bradley, Maverick trailing close behind indicated it had to be something worse. Even with his eyes facing forward, Jake could catch the look on the Captain's face out of the corner of his eye.

Worried and apprehensive.

Jake had an answer to his question. It wasn't a reprimand from his and Bradley's dangerous flying from the week previous.

This was a special deployment.

Cyclone stepped up onto the podium, not once lifting his eyes as he dropped the binder down to the wooden surface, stating, "You may be seated."

Jake and Bradley did as they were told, instantly reaching for the papers in front of them.

"Good afternoon." Cyclone finally looked up and nodded to the pair.

"Intelligence has gotten word of another illegal facility violating United Nation’s Peace Treaty accords. The flight tests you and your team have been flying these past weeks were a simulation of the area we expect to the best of our intelligence."

Most of what Cyclone was saying flew over Jake’s head. Not after Cyclone explained the stakes. Not after Jake started to read the mission report. Next-generation fighter jets. In enemy hands. And they wanted an air assist while they went after the factory responsible for making them.

Even if he believed he was the best, there was too much at stake for him to say he could make it out of there unscathed confidently.

This was the literal fucking definition of a suicide run.

Rooster suddenly pipped up from beside him as Cyclone paused. "Has the rest of the Squad been briefed, sir?"

Cyclone started him down, his face emotionless. "You misunderstand me, son."

Maverick bowed his head as Cyclone continued, "Only the both of you are going. This is a two-person run."

Bradley side-eyed Jake, who leaned forward slightly to gauge his reaction. All Jake could do was draw in a sharp breath.

"Take it for what you will, gentlemen. Looks like the Navy was impressed with your reckless display and wanted to award your bad behaviour," he remarked, turning the pages of the files before him.

"Now, the factory will be taken care of by ground forces. The technology and the data within the facility are too valuable to be destroyed. We need two F-18s to assist..."

Jake began to drown him out, despite his instincts telling him otherwise. Cyclone explaining everything to them was only a formality, a chance for them to ask questions. Jake didn't need to. Everything he needed to know would be in the brief.

Time.

That's what was on Jake's mind.

How much time did he have left?

How much time did he have left to make it right?

How much did he have left to give to you? And make it up to Sadie?

He jolted slightly when Cyclone hit the edge of his binder against the edge of the podium.

"Get your affairs in order," the older man commanded, walking away. " You have till 22:00 today."

---

The thick fog settling over your neighbourhood this late at night wasn't helping your current mood. You were extremely uncomfortable at the errieness, the dimly lit street lamps casting an unreal green glow. You couldn't even see beyond the neighbours' backyard from your kitchen window.

The rest of the house was silent, too. The lack of noise indicated the place was empty, except for the occasional creek or rustle of a tree branch against the roof. You were utterly alone, with nothing but your thoughts as company.

You wish you could say it was a welcome notion.

With everything that had happened the night Tyler was arrested, Penny closed The Hard Deck for the week, waiting for the insurance money to come through. The damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, and she didn't really need to close it down, but in a way, you realized she was probably using the chance to take a break.

Or at least try to give you one.

So, she decided to go sailing. That's where Sadie was, sleeping over at her place so they could go out on the water tomorrow. Penny had offered to take you as well.

You had refused.

It was funny to think you suddenly needed to process what had happened - you had never been good at processing shit before, so why would this time change that now?

Maybe you just wanted to be alone.

Even the cup of tea you made wasn't helping, having long since gone cold and still practically full. You didn't know what to think, finally alone for the first time in a while, finally finding the opportunity to allow yourself to sit and process.

And you still couldn't bring yourself to do it.

It wasn't as if you didn't know what you should be thinking about. You were thinking about all of it... Tyler, Sadie, Jake... and..

No, not that one yet.

Each thought was laid out in your head like an itemized list, neatly written and bullet-pointed. Each stood out on their own, colour-coded and organized into categories to the point you couldn't do anything more with them. Picturing each in your mind was easy, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything beyond that.

Something was stopping you from going deeper. Maybe you didn’t want to admit you didn’t know how.

A hard couple of knocks on your front door startled you out of your trance, echoing through the quiet house. It took you a moment to acknowledge them and realize they were, in fact, coming from your front door. You placed your mug on your kitchen table, scraping your chair along the title as you made your way to the front hallway.

It wasn’t quick enough for the person on the other side of the door, impatiently knocking their knuckles against the wood in rapid succession again. The sound quickened your pace, socked feet on the coarse rug thumping with each step.

In retaliation to the urgent knocks, you ripped the door open in an aggressive pull, only to find Jake hunched over, forearm resting on your doorframe. His head was bowed, handing low between his shoulders until he realized you had finally opened the door. Lifting his head, several emotions flashed across his face. Hope. Despair. Then, determination, with wide and wild eyes staring back at you.

You realized he was dressed in his flight suit, his hair was flicked back, and his face looked like it had been freshly shaven.

And he was panting like he had run a marathon.

“Jake?”

"I thought we would have more time," he heaved roughly. "I thought we had all the time in the world to figure this out. For me to find a million different ways to say I'm sorry for what I said. For what I did."

The corners of your mouth quivered, and your eyebrows furrowed, knitting together.

"No matter the length of time, I never would have gotten it right. Because there is no right way to apologize for what I said,” he lamented.

He opened his mouth to say something else but froze, the words dying in his throat like he suddenly lost whatever drive he had while coming here. Pushing himself off the frame, he turned towards your driveway, looking lost. With his back facing you, he reached for the bannister of your front porch, leaning over and bowing his head between shoulders.

You didn't know what else to do except remain frozen in your doorway, watching him look utterly defeated.

“Rooster and I got called up. It’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous,” he said, his voice low. “I might be the best, but even this one worries me.”

Whatever feelings of anger or resentment you had been carrying towards Jake were suddenly overpowered by concern.

Despite knowing you would never be privy to the details of the Navy, you found yourself stepping forward, a hand reaching out as you asked, “How dangerous?!”

You stopped yourself from touching his shoulder when he lifted his head, a sad smile on his face as he looked out to your yard. “You know we can’t tell you more than that, Darlin’.”

You crossed your arms below your breasts instead, gripping your elbows with a hint of apprehension as you gulped. “Do you know how long?”

He dropped his head again, shaking it while doing so. “At least a month, maybe two.”

A month, even two, was too long. Not when… You didn’t even know. You didn’t even know what to say or to do. Because Jake had hurt you, had protected you, and then shown up on your literal doorstep late at night before another deployment to leave all his cards on the table.

Sarcasm, sass, or any attitude or brave face you've ever used from behind that fucking bar couldn't save you from this. Not when Jake was facing yet another death sentence.

That fact alone made your heart break just a little bit further.

“George called me when he got back home,” he told you, filling the silence. “Said the first thing he did was kick the hell bringer off the ranch. I didn’t trust him. But then Janet called, saying his name was on the deed for some tax reasons, so George had every right.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you joined him, coming to stand next to him and gripping the front railing tight. It almost hurt - the way the wood felt under your nails.

"I never expected that. I never expected George to seek me out after what I did to him either. I honestly thought he'd report home, saying the damage had been done," Jake sighed, rocking his shoulders back and forth. "But he did. And the first thing he did was admit he was scared of you."

You dropped your chin to your chest. You couldn’t deny that maybe a little bit of shame was starting to eat away at your stomach. Yelling at George was more than just you being upset at both Seresin brothers. It was a deep-seated weight you had been carrying for too long, waiting for any moment it could unleash itself. George and Jake… had been the perfect excuse to scapegoat the underlying issue you refused to acknowledge in yourself.

Jake straightened himself, turning to face you with a bated breath. You spun with him, leaving your one hand on the railing.

"He told me the reason he wanted to change was not that I had shown him up at darts or that you had torn him apart with your words, but that either one of us should’ve to begin with. You made him realize that.”

You failed to notice Jake’s hand slowly sliding along the bannister, inching closer to yours.

"My relationship with him is anything but fixed. He is more of an asshole than I could ever be. But when I told him he needed to live his own life, he said he couldn’t claim anything he had earned for himself without the hell-bringer handing it to him. Or say he did it with good intentions.”

It wasn’t a shock when Jake slid his hand over the top of yours, gently curving his fingers around your wrist. In fact, you let him, allowing him to pull you towards him as he stepped closer gently.

“Then he called me at the airport before he left and said he found you on the beach the night Tyler stormed the bar.”

You failed to hide your grimace at the mention of Tyler’s name, and Jake offered a sad smile. “He said he tried to make things right. Because after I quoted a dead president, he took what you said to him to heart..”

You swallowed hard, knowing just exactly what George had been referring to. It was the same point you made when you yelled at him, the words echoing in your head.

‘So you can gallivant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours?’

And when you asked point blank on the beach the last time, he had been happy. Which was when he did something for himself.

"He's never thought highly of me, but he said meeting you and Sadie was the best damn thing I could have ever done." Jake reached for your other hand, looking down. "Because my arena has two people willing to be in it with me, no matter what I've done."

“I’ve always loved that quote,” you laughed quietly to yourself, trying to avert your eyes.

“I know,” he replied sadly. “It was in a worn book on your bookcase.”

You lift your head, finally allowing yourself to stare into his eyes. It pains you to think you had forgotten how blue they were. And how easy it was to get lost in them when so much happened between you.

"I should have let you explain yourself that day."

Jake huffed a small laugh, reaching up to stroke a piece of hair away from your face. “I shouldn’t have said those words to begin with. And not that it’s worth anything, I’m so sorry they did.”

Jake doesn't drop his hand but rather cups the side of your face.

"But you deserve more than an apology on the eve of a deployment. It's not fair to you. But I have to try because there is a chance I might not be able to. Because I'm trying to listen to the advice of a ten-year-old girl who once said she believed in me.

The admission guts you. Sadie’s impact on the world and those around you would always gut you.

“So let me be honest with you now before I don’t have the chance to,” He urged, his thumb caressing under your eye and across your cheek. "I'm in love with you, Elizabeth Beck."

A strangled sob tore from your throat, attempting to pull your hand out of Jake's and your face away from his touch. He was quicker, tugging you forward into his chest with a hand on the back of your neck. You were too weak to protest, allowing yourself to be pulled towards him.

"No, you're not running from this, darlin'," he shushed you, both arms encasing themselves around your waist, preventing you from escaping. "Not this time."

You couldn't do anything but cup your face in your hands, pressing yourself against his chest and sobbing. Tilting his head down, he whispered gently against your ear, "I'm not saying it to hear it back. I'm telling you so you never doubt that I do."

Strange enough, you didn’t doubt him. Not ever - even when he had hurt you.

He kissed your collarbone once through the thick fabric of your sweater, feeling as if he had touched your bare skin. He took a deep breath under your hands, body heaving up once as he gathered the courage to continue.

“Darlin,” he whispered. “ I know I can’t ask this of you, but I can only hope you love me back. Even after… Because I know how badly I fucked up. For a split second, back at the Hard Deck, I thought you would be better off without me."

"You hurt me, Jake," you cried into his chest. "You said those things..."

"I know, darlin'," his voice sounded broken next to your ear. "I went for the things I knew you'd leave me for, not because I believed them. Just the opposite. You didn't need me in your life, in Sadie's life, when I have so much baggage following me around. You didn't need another pair of assholes tainting your life, whether it be George, the hell bringer, or myself."

You gripped his flight suit tight at his confession.

"Then Sadie cornered me on the beach. And told me to get my shit together or not bother coming around anymore. Because you two would be just fine without me," he sniffed. "And it fucking hurt coming from her."

"Oh, Bug," you coo. You're not mad at her for going against your rule.

“I can’t promise I’m not going to fuck it up again. I’m the furthest thing from perfect compared to everyone I know. But I promise, I won't stop trying to get it right or at least stop at how many times I have to apologize to you for being me.”

You hate him. You hate him.

Except you don’t.

“I brought you your favourite flowers the first time I apologized because I couldn’t offer anything else. And I cannot bring you flowers when I’m apologizing for a second time, not because tulips are currently out of season, but because a man shouldn’t do that when apologizing to the woman he loves.”

He let go of your hip to stroke a piece of your hair behind your ear before pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them rest there for a moment.

“I should give them to you just because I can,” he murmured against your skin.

As Jake pulled back from you, he reached down to the side pocket of his flight suit against his thigh, his hand a firm fist as he pulled out something attached to a balled chain.

“So, I can’t ask you to forgive me, Elizabeth. Or even to wait for me. I don’t know what will happen when I am gone. Or if I’m worth accepting an apology from.”

He grabbed your wrist gently, pulling it up between the two of you, only to press something metal into your hand. But rather than let go, he threaded his fingers through yours, keeping the object between the palms of your hands, the chain dangling between.

“But if you can still find it in your heart to trust me, trust me when I say I want you and Sadie in my life. It’s you two or nothing at all,” he croaked, before adding, “I broke my ways for a literature-loving bartender and her ten-year-old niece because they both chose me knowing I am probably the most flawed human being, besides that asshole, ever to grace their path.”

You sobbed at that.

“If I make it back…” he trailed off. You shook your head vehemently. “When you make it back…” You corrected him. Yet, a small part of you died inside when he gave you a hesitant, bittersweet smile.

“I want you to tell me your answer then.”

Jake let go of your hand, leaving behind and revealing a pair of worn dog tags, making you gasp.

“I want these to stay with you until then. So you know I’m with you. Always.”

"Jake.. I can't.." you stuttered.

He ignored you, grabbing them from your hand to grab the chain in both hands. “They’re my first pair. My current set is in my bag.”

Watching him lift and guide the chain over your head, the protest dies on your lips. The intimate act brought him close enough to feel his breath on your face. The weight of the dog tags was a new feeling on your sternum.

"You know, in basic, they scare the hell out of you with these," he said, grabbing one of them and holding it between you. "Tell you that if you crash and burn, these are the bits they use to ID whatever's left."

He glanced away, eyes briefly distant. "They find you, leave one tag, take the other." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Guess it's also their way of grounding you, reminding you of what’s at stake."

You stared at the tags between the two of you, gulping hard. 

"For me, giving you them is... it's not just some sentimental crap. It's me leaving a bit of myself with you, no matter what happens." 

Your breath hitched, and as he dropped the tag, a new weight was placed on your chest. The fog around you seemed to grow thicker, and if you didn't know any better, you would have blamed it for constricting your breath. 

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "Jake, I... I haven't... I haven't fully dealt with losing her," you whispered, trembling.

"I know you haven't, darlin'," he mumbled, wiping away another stream of tears on your face. "And I'm only adding another burden to your plate." 

Jake leaned forward to press another kiss to your forehead before peering down at your face, taking in the sheer devastation. He caressed your bottom lip, huffing affectionately, “I guess it's only fair. I broke your heart. You need to break mine, too.”

“Jake…” 

As you reached out, your voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Your hands moved around to his back, sliding up against his shoulder blades. He was tall and broad. And as you tried to pull him into you, your arms didn't stretch enough. You wanted to hold to so many parts of him, latch on in hopes he wouldn't leave you so soon. 

You don't know how long you stood like this, on your porch in the fog, holding on to each other. It took you a while, but you eventually realized the two of you started to sway in a silent rhythm, back and forth gently. 

The action was so reminiscent of the night he drove you home. When he found you closing by yourself and swept you into his arms - before everything became so chaotic. 

It makes you look back on every memory with him, like a film reel in vivid technicolour. 

Water and Sand, a Mona Lisa smile. Math homework and Sadie's cheeky smile. Yellow flowers in apologetic hands. Dirty dishes and clean slates. A game of darts and an almost kiss. Walking next to mountains and trees. Poloarids, video chats, and scary moments. Fireworks on New Year's Eve, to a slow dance in safe arms. 

Thunderstorms and Sadie's tears to passionate kisses. First dates, Ferris wheels, Sadie in the hospital, and Jake catching your tears. Bradley lashing out, and Jake standing by. 

Purple blues and orange-reds, the sunset colours that made you cry for your sister for the first time since you don't remember when. 

Looking back on what was leaves you wondering what will be. 

Jake's voice cuts through the silence, faintly humming a Chris Stapleton song. Your voice is muffled against his chest. "I wanted to take you to a country concert for a date."

You felt him smile against the top of your head. "Would you have let me pick you up and put you on my shoulders?"

You huffed affectionately into the fabric of his suit, turning your head to rest your cheek against his chest. “Oh, people would have hated us for that.”

He laughs quietly. “I’m sure you would have come up with something sharp and witty to reply with.”

“Enough to get us thrown out?”

“I could always pull the military service card.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Jake chuckled softly into your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, swaying on your front porch under the green-lit fog. Not that you would have noticed. You were too busy trying to imprint this into your memory. How he felt holding you, how he smelled, the sensations in your chest. Or how his heart felt beating under your ear.

Until the alarm on his watch ruined it all, and he stepped away from you, pressing another long kiss to your forehead. You felt him grimace each time he tried to pull away.

"I have to go, darlin'," he murmured. "I have to report in 30. Otherwise, I'd drag you inside and abandon my post."

I would have let you.

As Jake lets you go, you reach out to grip the railing again. Before he turns to leave, he says with a smile, "Send me letters if you can."

Watching him proceeding down your front steps, your heart ached in a way it never had before. Your hand moved to the dog tags, gripping them tightly. 

The idea of losing Jake, never seeing that cocky grin or hearing his sarcastic quips again, was paralyzing. But even more terrifying was the thought of him leaving without knowing how you truly felt.

If he were to... no.

You couldn't wait. You couldn't let him leave with things unsaid. The fog outside was thick, and Jake's form was about to become a silhouette in the distance, but you wouldn't let him leave without knowing.

"Jake!"

Running down the steps of your porch, you flung yourself towards him. He spun, eyes wide as you reached for his face, hands cradling either side of his jaw as you pulled him down, pressing your lips to his.

You put everything into that kiss, struggling to breathe, fearing you would lose him before you could ever truly be with him. Jake wrapped his arms around your waist, moulding his lips to yours. And with each press, you commit them to memory, pushing away the thought this may be the last time you could.

You were already struggling to grasp the death of someone you loved. You couldn't survive a second.

Jake always kissed you like he was a man starved of affection. This time, he was holding himself back, hands deliberately resting lightly on your hips, unmoving and researching. His kisses were less than firm, hesitant against your more urgent ones.

It gave you the strength to continue pressing on.

You pulled back with a gasp, looking him square in the eyes. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to tell me you love me and expect me not to say anything. Not to call you out for your shitty perception of yourself when you, Jake fucking Seresin, are worth it."

You can feel the heat on your cheeks and more tears running freely down the sides of your face.

"I do forgive you,“ you rushed out in a breath. “I forgive you for all your faults and everything you will ever do to me, whether you are Jake Seresin or fucking Hangman. Life is short, and... and.. if I woke one morning to find you were gone,  I would never find the strength to carry on had you not known that I lo.."

Jake didn't let you finish, quickly grabbing the sides of your face to kiss you roughly, all open mouth and tongue. You whimpered into his mouth, struggling to breathe and to keep up with the onslaught.

He bent you backwards, your back curling around the sudden added weight of his arm. You tugged on his flight suit in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you as he attacked your mouth. His fingers were locked deeply into the roots of your hair behind your ear, angling your head just right so he could capture your lips in all the ways he wanted to. In all the ways he might never have the chance to do again.

Jake considered himself selfish. For most of his naval career, he had been selfish. But he never truly felt the weight of that feeling until he was trying to memorize these last moments with you. As if this was all he would ever get to have with you.

It was selfish to do this to you. To kiss you one last time.

Your body is warm under his touch. He tries to imprint the sensation.

Your kisses are firm. He tries to akin the taste.

Your grip on his suit is tight. He tries to remember the pain it creates.

Your whimpers and moans. He tries to imagine they’d be exactly what you’d sound like if he’d ever get the chance to be with you. Truly.

Or if they’d be enough to sustain his dreams.

He knows he needs to go. Needs to pull himself away from you before the next kiss, or the next touch is the one that convinces him to stay. So he tugs away first, and you chase his lips, whining at the loss of contact.

"Tell the bug she was right," it's a whisper against your lips. "And I'm sorry I disappointed her too."

Your bottom lip quivered as Jake finally wrenched himself away from you with a deep grunt. He climbed into his truck and started the engine, backing out of your driveway like a man possessed. As if one slight moment of hesitation or if he looked away from the task at hand and saw your face, he’d drag you back inside the house and lock the two of you away in your bedroom.

He would have if there were more time.

Your footsteps against the pavement were muffled in your ears as you followed his truck. You couldn't bring yourself to look away, even when you found yourself frozen at the end of your driveway, watching his red taillights fade into the fog.

And when you finally found the courage to move, absentmindedly walking back up your driveway, up your front steps to close the front door behind you, you fell against it. Your back pressed hard into the grooves and ridges as you collapsed to the floor. Your tears were falling freely, and the sobs racking your chest were each more devastating than the last. You heaved for each breath, trying to gather the strength to do anything but cry.

For Jake.

For Bradley.

For Sadie.

For Ridley.

...For yourself.

After working the heels of your hands into the corners of your eyes, you grasped for the dog tags, looking down at the worn-out pieces of metal in your palm. You could still make out his name and call sign imprinted on the surface, a finger tracing over the imprinted ridge.

The damn things were both a reminder he was still out there and could never return. A reminder he couldn’t promise more sunsets with you. A reminder there was a chance you'd never get to tell him you loved him, too.

You pressed your fingers to your lips, the other clutching his dog tags over your heart.

Come back to us, Jake.

Please.

Tag List:

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Part 19 - An Evening I Will Not Forget is being edited 👀

Wickett ;)

[jadelynlace]

Bar Bathroom⎮Ink Drinker Deleted Scene⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]

→ more Ink Drinker here.

author’s note: This small little smut-fest was inspired by a recent TikTok that I saw and promptly shared with @ivarsgard​ to which, a whole conversation unfolded. I love you, bitch. We’re back, yet again, to another time on the Ink Drinker timeline where you two were still not out, but everyone knew.

content warnings: smut, drunk girls in the bathroom who become your best friend for all of ten seconds, Ivar trying to keep it in his pants, Ivar helping you get dressed, not being as sneaky as you think...

Ivar helps you dress that night; as you place yourself on his lap, pulling your hair from your shoulder you feel the brief blow of the last of his cigarette through your hair. Warm fingers pull up the zipper on your dress, and even warmer lips press delicately against your shoulder blade as Ivar takes the hair tie from his wrist to tie your hair up.

This night out is more painful for him—you two had spent the better part of the day (and previous night) tangled between one another, hardly moving from his bed before you helped him with seemingly unimportant tasks around his flat. And for a single afternoon, Ivar got a full glimpse into what I would actually be like to live with you. But instead, his grip around his beer bottle is tight enough to crack it as he watches you chat with the bartender about the single possible reason why someone needs to know eight languages. Because apparently, this man does. 

There’s a tap to his right bicep and Ivar turns to see a blonde woman looking up at him and he swallows thickly. A quick glance around proves that none of his brothers are in close proximity and he breathes a sigh of relief before this woman asks him if he came here alone. 

“No, I didn’t,” And technically it’s not a lie, Hvitserk drove this time with a song playing on repeat and Ivar nearly tore the stereo out of his truck.

“With your friends?” She asks nicely and the gum she’s chewing smells just like the same toothpaste you used this morning when Ivar kissed you. “Your tattoos are incredibly detailed,” She then adds.

“Thank you,” Ivar says softly and that complement helps him relax. “My girl’s at the bar,” Ivar finally admits.

“Oh,” She hums. “Where did you get them done?” She then asks.

“Uh, I did most of this one, and a family friend does the rest—he owns a parlor,” Ivar adds and cracks a smile; right as you look back to where you left him only to find him mid-conversation. 

You swallow thickly, and you know—God you know— that this is what you agreed to. But it breaks your heart more each time you see a woman look at your man with eyes that undress him, even when Ivar’s talking about something seemingly so important to him. Turning back, you set your drink on the bar and the bartender takes it, shielding it away for you and you hurry your way to the bathroom. Unaware of the sudden rush of what’s climbing you but your brain turns too loud and the chatter, the sports game, and the music only make it worse. 

Your stomach drops somewhere to your feet and you catch yourself in time on the sink before you’re succumbing to a syncopal episode that you try to fight off. Blinking several times, you run your hands under the cold water until it burns.

“He’s not your boyfriend—he’s not your boyfriend—” You start.

“He should be,” You hear another woman’s voice nearly sing. “With the way you look, honey, oh! That man doesn’t know what he’s missing,” She winks. “Now fix your crown, doll. We don’t cry over men who don’t know what they want,” She says, one final look at you and you offer her a forced smile. You know what Ivar wants—at least, you think you do. The line between being a couple and acting as strangers blurs too frequently and you know somewhere, in your mind or your heart or even your ego that Ivar wants you. As a girlfriend, as a partner, as a best friend, he wants it but he worries that the moment he says it, he’ll wake up from this dream. And you know you’d never deny him that—not even the safety he feels with you nor the disapproval to take things from a less casual level; because in your mind, you are his girlfriend. Hell, his mother calls you such so it must be true. The door swings open again just as quickly and you chuckle to yourself.

“I’m fixing it,” You say softly.

“What broke?” Ivar’s voice says and you freeze. “Did I not do the zipper thing right?”

“No…” You say, turning slowly. “She told me to—never mind,” You add and Ivar only nods. 

“If anyone asks…” Ivar starts as his thighs come to press yours against the sink. “I spilled your drink on you, and the bartender said the only way to make sure it doesn’t stain, is to get it wet,” He hums as his mouth ducks down to find yours. 

“What I’m wearing is black,” You whisper back as your mouth pulls mere millimeters from his.

“Then you spilled it on me, and you dragged me to the ladies’ room to make sure it didn’t stain,” Ivar corrects while you feel his hands cross your jaw. “Good thing I decided not to wear something black for once in my life,” He teases.

“I like how you look in that shirt,” You whisper as your eyes flick down. “It fits you nicely and makes your arms look bigger,”

“My eyes are up here, baby,” Ivar hums. His hands finally drop, lifting your hips slightly and you feel the hard tile of the sink’s ledge right under your tail bone. “Unless you want to watch it,” 

“Ivar— we can’t…not in here,” You whisper. 

“Then you’re going to have to think of one hell of a story as to why we just happened to leave at the same time, and why I had to get a ride with you,” Ivar says. “I don’t think I can wait that long anyway,” He then shakes his head, freeing the thought.

“Ivar…”

“You’re killing me Y/N, you and I both know it,” He finally admits. Even as the bathroom is quiet, you can hear him breathing softly, his heart beating, and the scent from his shirt makes itself known in your nostrils. “I hate this, and—now isn’t the time nor the place to tell everyone. I want to do that on my own terms,” He admits and that sentence gives you hope.

“We had sex all weekend, how do you not remember what I feel like?” You tease and it only causes the man to deflate above you. A low whine comes from his lips as they stick to your cheek and his arms wrap around you.

“Fine,” Ivar whispers. “I’ll talk Hvitserk into bottomless shots or something, or shank Sigurd with a pool cue,” He then says, breath fanning your cheek and you relishing in this closeness, crossing your hands behind his neck and you throw any last regard out the metaphorical window.

“Ivar,” You start lowly, and the tone of your voice makes him straighten, pulling back and looking down at you. “You have five minutes to make both of us come,” You suddenly whisper.

“I only need three,” Ivar growls, pulling his hands from behind you as he starts to clumsily work on his belt. 

You pull his mouth to yours, maneuvering his jacket from his shoulders and you jump off the sink’s lip slightly. Ivar’s hands move to your pants as you work around him, putting the jacket on the counter like clockwork before Ivar lifts you back up. 

There’s a moment where you anticipate the slow spreading of your walls, languid and calm like he had been the past few days, but when his cock pierces you this time, it’s one fluid motion. Pressing up into you quickly as your teeth sink into his shoulder to quiet the scream you want to unleash. 

Your back buzzes slightly under Ivar’s hands and you feel his near moan of relief against your skin. Holding himself there for a second, waiting for you to take your canine fangs out of his shoulder, your head finally drops back as your body acclimates to the sensations of this man. A low hum comes from your lips instead as Ivar moves his hips slowly, with total disregard for the time limit and you hear another moan come from his mouth as he works.

“You always feel so good,” Ivar whispers as his palms move to plant against the counter. You only offer him a noise of agreement, juices collecting between the two of you and your mind connects to just how much ecstasy this man can put you into. As Ivar takes to dragging his nose along your jaw, he asks: “Can I come inside of you?” Softly, but the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yes,” You peep back, nails sinking into the meat of his back, and Ivar’s mouth slips onto yours, tangling tongues as you feel the deep presses inside of you pick up the slightest bit of speed. “Come inside of me,” You say against his mouth and you feel his lips twitch, fighting off the shit-eating smirk that wants to claim them. 

“Good girl,” Ivar purrs, one hand climbing your back before the other one drops as you take the incentive to tangle your fingers with his. Feeling your walls flutter, Ivar’s lips slow, putting his sole focus into how he’s fucking you; how warm and tightly you’re wrapping him, how he can’t starve off the inevitable for much longer as your body moves with his.

Tears line your lashes with the amount of pleasure and with crossing your legs behind his tailbone, you feel your own release move towards you. The scent of Ivar’s aftershave, the warmth of his body against yours, how far he’s pressing into your golden spot becomes all too much. 

“I’m gonna come,” You squeak and Ivar holds you tighter at those words, swallowing the phrase as his forehead touches yours because he needs to kiss you when he tips you over the edge. Moaning into each other’s mouths as breathe through your climax directly onto his tongue before you hear the final clank of Ivar’s belt against the tile floor, and his hips slow. Riding out his release, ropes of seed into you as your knees shake to lock him in place.

“I love you,” You hear him whisper as he comes down, and you know he made no regard to try to filter it this time.

Ivar’s hands move quickly then, grabbing your cheeks with the frenzied movements of another kiss, all teeth, and tongue and you can’t get another breath in while he all but devours you. 

Only twenty feet away, the bartender’s eyes scan the locked bathroom door with a smirk just to himself before turning back to the patron he’s serving.

“Is that all?” He asks and Hvitserk mulls the answer over.

“Add fries to the tab—I’ll pay him back,” He finally says. “Where did he even go?”

“He’s probably in the bathroom fucking Y/N,” Ubbe whispers. “Remember we have to act like we don’t know,”

Ink Drinker Tags:

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full masterlist can be found here.

[teafiend]

Some ramblings on the KDramas, “Missing: The Other Side”, “Uncanny Counter” and “Sohn: The Guest”.

I managed to finish another KDrama - Missing - recently, which I felt was quite an accomplishment to both the show’s and my credit.

I started it because of Go Soo and the premise, and was not disappointed. It was the same for Uncanny Counter (UC), a show which was recommended to me and which I jumped in for Yeom Hye-Ran. Both were good shows with interesting and coherent plots, fabulous performances and satisfying conclusions.

Missing was very solid, with cohesive, consistent and cogent world building and plotlines, memorable and wonderful performances, satisfying ending(s) and just an all around good vibes with plenty of tearjerker moments throughout. It was “healing and hopeful” and just a truly lovely drama.

But as I watched it, I just could not help comparing it with The Guest (TG). The comparisons were not done to bring down the dramas, which are all excellent on their own and served different narratives and objectives, though there were a few similarities, hence the comparisons.

Mostly, it brought me a starker understanding of the reasons for my love for The Guest.

All had related/overlapping themes - to a higher or lower degree - of trauma/crime/loss/grief, and the part about “moving on/healing”. The “found family” trope in play.

Missing’s bright visuals matched its narrative themes, which were generally messages of closure and hope for something better. They were consistent with this from start to finish, which was really nice.

UC and TH shared a similar visual/colour palette (darker, muted yet with gorgeous, colourful lightings). I have read of people who preferred UC’s visuals, which were sleeker, certainly, but personally, I much preferred TG’s. UC and TG also shared a similarly significant/climatic scene. Anyone who watched both would know which. (Unsurprising since both were OCN productions).

There was more obvious CGI on UC (due to fantastical elements of the plot as well) and colours were certainly pretty, but I was never wowed by it.

And as much as I enjoyed UC and would easily recommend it to people, it was just another good show (which deserves all the kudos and credit it got because well, not too many shows are “good shows”).

Still, they are not The Guest. (Not a shade at people who prefer those shows, just my own obsession).

All three had moments of deliberate humour and heartbreak, but TG made me laugh and cry harder. More. There were no episodes in TG which did not result in a crying fest (and laughter amidst the tears).

While all three had degrees of supernatural fantasy in them, TG was the most grounded in realism. All three shows touched on social issues/crime/loss, but I don’t think I am being biased when I say that TG had the most “realistic and gritty” takes on the subject matter. The one with the highest stakes. The most visible scars and traumas.

Although all three resolved satisfyingly, TG was the one which had you guessing till the end about whether there will be more sacrifices, something less of a worry in Missing and even UC.

If there was one element from the three shows which I can unequivocally state that TG did better without any qualification was the soundtrack. The OST in TG was one its more outstanding features, no ifs or buts. UC had quite a good OST, but Missing’s was somewhat lackluster.

Both Uncanny Counter and Missing will be getting Season 2, which I plan on catching when they air. (Their plot lines/world-building are conducive to a continuation, and hinted as much in the shows themselves).

While there were rumours of a movie for TG and calls for a S2 continuation, I will be that fan who is more than happy enough with the canon we got. (I won’t mind a movie, but will have to pass on another long drama, unless a special episode and such). As much as I love them, I am not sure I want to watch those beloved characters go through more “trauma”. I will watch if the main, original cast are back but I don’t want it, honestly.

And there lies the main difference for me, perhaps. Missing was “healing” (on similarly traumatizing loss) and UC was an action-oriented/superhero-ish take on crime/supernatural fantasy (I have to thank the mild desensitization to violence/gore in UC for allowing me to start on TG), and made for sort of a thrilling and fascinating watch, but TG was harrowing.

TG was a truly difficult watch, unlike Missing and UC (UC was midway between TG and Missing).

TG horrified and frightened me (I had to cover the screen with a hand during the first round I watched it). Made me gaped in awestruck eyes at the visuals and aesthetics, stomped on my heart and wrung it out and made me wallow in fixation with a rare pair (in purgatory/hell/paradise) for the last year and a half. It was everything I never knew I wanted (or needed).

Not an experience I care to repeat too often, however. Hence, TG is a much cherished treasure but not a high I want to chase. I am content and happy with what we have.

Now, I just want calm and peace for them (in my headcanons), and I hope they will visit sometime. It had been quite nice when they did.

All three KDramas are good shows and worth a watch - Glitch as well - but every time I manage to complete a show (no matter how good), I am reminded of my fixation with TG.

[un-nonymous]

Have you ever seen someone in like, head-to-toe (shoulder-to-thigh?) spanx, but without the bra part? It’s like a BYOB (bra) situation? It’s not great.

Anyway, my best friend’s wedding is this Saturday in Chicago and we leave at 6am Thursday. I need 8 more days to be ready for the trip.

It’s been so long since I’ve written over here that I was excited to fill in the “Listening to:” field. That’s … never been a thing here. Livejournal. Twenty (20) years ago. It’s fine. You should listen to this song though.

I don’t care about no hoes, where is your spouse at?

Red text!

(Personally, I truly don’t care about no hoes nor spouses. In fact I’m very actively trying to become a spouse myself, for fuck’s sake.)

So I’m a bridesmaid in my best friend’s wedding this weekend and I love her but she did us all dirty with the color of these dresses. It’s like a smoky lavender - the kind that looks good on no one. We were able to choose our own style at least, but they are all relentless and unforgiving. I am wearing head-to-toe spanx (BYObra) and you can see like, the line of the contour? on the thigh? And it’s not because I have thick legs. I mean, it’s because the material of the dress is almost as though it was stuck to you, but it flows nicely in a breeze. I don’t know. I’ve also lost a bunch of weight since June (thanks, keto!) and that honestly helps me feel better about the dress. I took selfies tonight, even! Maybe I’ll post one.

This has been a hard week. Since Friday, I: organized and attended yet another suicide prevention training at work; unexpectedly found myself needing to support a dear coworker towards the end of that training class because he had been struggling with all the thoughts we’d been talking about for 2 hours and needed to step outside to cry and asked if I would join him (a senior general superintendent); attended a coworker’s wedding with another coworker, got drunk for the first time in a while and lost the latter coworker’s sunglasses before raising my voice at a third coworker who was getting mouthy with me; had what would have been the worst hangover of my life Sunday if it weren’t for Amazon’s party patches*; have been running around with my hair on fire at the office for both 10+ hour days I’ve had today and yesterday.

That whole thing was all about work. I’m working on that, but now’s not a good time for progress.

Seriously though, look up “party patches” on Amazon. Slap 2 of them on you (gonna do 3-4 for this weekend’s festivities, I have to be in proper shape for Nine Inch Nails at Riot Fest on Sunday #priorities) and while they won’t always stop a hangover from happening (I mean honestly how do you stop a speeding train, you know?), they will help you avoid an ambulance at least. Ask me how I know. Look for the blue and orange packages. They’re just vitamins, I don’t know what kind of witchcraft they’re about otherwise but they’re like $30 for I want to say 40-something patches? You really can’t put a price on magic.

(Ok here’s how I know: The last time I got that hungover, it was the morning after Matt and I got into a big argument about something stupid in public and I was crying at the table quietly but also pretty dramatically and the server had just approached with the check that I stubbornly insisted on paying. I could not pick my head up off the pillow the next morning and it took us 3 weeks to finally reach the end of the conversation because I was so embarrassed that I cried at a server as a 37-year-old woman for really the dumbest reason. I’m really fun to date. Fortunately he and I were genuinely fine those 3 weeks, we aren’t about grudges which has probably done a world of good for our 5-year run so far. But I was wearing 0 party patches that night. I currently have 2.7 packs for the bridal party and maybe the groomsmen if they’re acting right.)

Matt is standing up in the wedding too and we’re going to walk down the aisle together. I hope at least a couple people throw shoes at him. Gently, because he is a gem, but he needs a kick in the ass and he knows it.

Hope you and yours are loving your adventures lately. 🖤

[cinnamontoastandtears]

random fic time

so, i got a request for a mcharrison teddy boy era first kiss, and putting aside how long it took me to write it, i also messed it up a little by turning it into a bit of an angst fest and making it way too plotty (must be riding my high from the other george/paul fic lmao) but i wanted to give this to y’all anyway so: here you go !!

(to the anon that requested the first kiss in the first place, dw, i’m going to write you another)

warning: drunkenness and a brief description of nausea

George stumbled up the steps with big thunks, feet heavy from the whiskey in his system, whiskey in his system because he’d been drinking alone.

Paul had been too busy with John to go out with him. Perfect John, with his perfect fucking hair, and his not-so-perfect guitar playing that even Paul, ever the perfectionist, seemed to love.

So George drank alone. And now he was coming back to the hotel alone, arms empty and mind clouded so he didn’t have to think about who he wished was in them. The view of their floor greeted him before he was ready to meet it and a groan left his lips.

He composed himself against the peeling wallpaper for a few minutes before steeling himself and trudging into the room he shared with Paul.

He found the slightly older man alone, surprisingly, strumming away on his guitar, fingers flashing and angry and not caring that they were making discordant sounds.

“Where’s John?” he muttered, letting the door slam behind him.

“With Stu,” Paul bit out, strumming hard again.

Oh. Right.

George had forgotten he wasn’t the only one that could be jealous. (Or something like that, it wasn’t that he was so jealous anyway, but-)

“Hmm,” George said, flopping down onto his bed. His stomach hated him for that, churning and sending a brief taste of bile to the back of his throat. “Guess you an’ I are one in the same then, eh?”

Paul stopped playing. George replayed his last words back over in his head, taking a minute to let it dawn on him. He shouldn’t have said that.

There came the sound of Paul moving his guitar to the side of the bed, and then more shuffling George’s deaf-from-a-crowded-bar ears couldn’t interpret. So late an hour, so complicated of feelings. His head felt like a brick.

Paul must have stood up in the lengthy amount of time it took George to figure all those sounds out (the shucking of a jacket and belt and shoes), for he was then standing over George’s bed, looking threatening as a shadow in the dark room.

“What do you mean?”

“What?”

“What did you mean, ‘we’re one in the same’?”

George knew. He knew what Paul meant, the question he was asking without even fuckin asking it, bitter with only half-wisdom on his side. (Paul was wise enough to figure himself out, not quite enough for other people. Though, of course, he was still a teenager, so there may have been lack of maturity involved as well.)

“Jus’…” George started, heaving his upper half from where it had finally rested comfortably on the lumpy mattress. “Jus’…”

He’d never been good at putting his feelings right. Never been good at explanations or confrontation or any of the shit you were supposed to be able to say to someone when you felt violated or when you wanted something. So maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the sheer-fucking-unfairness, but something deep inside made George gather all his feelings and spit them out of his mouth.

“You’re not the only one who gets to act jealous an’- an’ be a prick to everyone because of it. You do it too! Don’t be sittin’ there all stupid an’ angry and envious when you’re just as bad as John leavin’ with Stu to do god-knows-what. That’s not fuckin’ fair.”

George got the impression he sounded whiny, so he closed his mouth, not wanting to give Paul any reason to call him a child or immature or anything so harsh. (Barely nine months. Barely nine months and he felt entitled to treat him like that.)

“What…?” Paul’s face wasn’t clear to George even though he’d shifted and his feet were in between Paul’s feet and he was looking up at his face. This didn’t mean that he didn’t know the exact expression that was etched there.

Ticked brow, slanted mouth, bottom lip pulled slightly in. George had studied this face at length. He knew how it looked when confused.

“I’m here, fuckin’ off by myself while you’re out with John, givin’ each other a hand or some utter bullshite like that, leavin’ me alone. An’ that’s why it’s not fuckin’ fair for me to come home an’ you to be awake an’ upset an’ goin’ ‘what?’ like you don’t fuckin’ know exactly what.”

If George was the type of person who cried, he’d be in tears by now, he’d be ugly-crying and sniveling and shit and Paul probably would’ve backed away instead of doing what he did instead, which was to sink down next to George on the bed and sigh.

“I…” he started, then stopped. It almost made sense. Such an eloquent person, yet when the quiet one spoke up, all his words lost. “How do you feel about me then?” he asked instead, turning the burden of talking back to George.

The room was still dark, his head was still fogged, Paul’s shoulder brushed his and he shuddered. That should’ve said it all, really.

“What do you mean?” he asked, unintentionally mirroring Paul’s question from earlier.

“You’re jealous of me-“

“I’m jealous of John.”

“Oh. Well… right, well, jealous of him then.” Paul paused again like he was going to say something else. “For…?”

“For replacin’ me.”

“Oh.”

“Continue,” George offered, motioning with his hand.

“You’re jealous of John… for replacin’ you… an’ you’re angry at me for bein’—“ George wondered if he’d admit it, “—jealous of Stuart.” If George was a bit more sober he’d be impressed. “So I just wanna know what you think of me. Are you angry or do you wish that you were in John’s place, gettin’ to be with me like…”

George’s brain alerted him to a tone that hadn’t been in Paul’s voice before. Something almost flirtatious, walking a dangerous line between something he wanted and something he wasn’t sure he wanted. He’d always just wanted to be close to Paul. Who wouldn’t want that? But this close, what the way his hands reaching down into the gap between his and Paul’s thighs implied, this close he’d never thought of before. (And so what if that was a lie, it wasn’t like everyone was telling the truth tonight.)

“George?” Paul asked, letting George lace their fingers together.

“This is what I think of you,” he said, instead of answering the not-really-question, and put his other hand on Paul’s cheek.

“What—?”

“You known exactly what.” And George kissed him.

He hadn’t had many kisses in his life time, exactly, but enough to know when a kiss was good. Kissing Paul was good. Not right, something this taboo couldn’t possibly be right, but good nonetheless, heavenly somehow, Paul’s favorite—perfect.

Paul’s lips were soft and small and wet, and George couldn’t believe he was kissing them, that their lips were the ones meeting and not Paul and John’s like they always threatened to. Then Paul pulled away just a second to breathe, gasping and moaning just the tiniest bit, which sent George’s mind away, leaving him unprepared for when Paul dove in again.

George pushed him down into the mattress and Paul let him and Paul was letting him, and he was kissing back and…

They pulled away eventually and George rolled off of Paul’s chest, not wanting to crush him with his… well he didn’t weigh much so it might have been fine, but even still.

“That’s how I feel about you,” he managed to say, voice the tiniest bit wrecked from kissing for so long.

“I… me too… how I feel about you too,” Paul said, sounding like he was in a dream, somewhere far away.

This confused George. He’d only just figured out he felt for Paul this way, and didn’t he… didn’t John and Paul…

“What about John?”

“What about him?” Paul asked.

“Don’t you… how do you feel about him?”

George felt Paul turn toward him, so he turned too, and they were facing with each other and this was confrontation, a thing George wasn’t good at.

“I don’t… me an’ John are friends, Georgie. That’s it.”

“But you… but why…” There were several things that didn’t make sense about this. If Paul really liked him, wanted to kiss him and be with him, why did he spend all his time with John? Why did he ignore George, why was he only even here in their room because John was with Stuart?

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s still not fair,” George whispered, pretending that tears weren’t pricking his eyes. (And maybe he was the kind of person who cried.) “You can’t be tellin’ me you feel this way about me an’ then ignore me an’ be mopey when John’s gone. You can’t do that, Paul. What is that kinda shit?”

“I…” Paul started, then stopped again, losing his eloquence all over. “I don’ know…”

That wasn’t good enough. George said so and Paul’s eyebrows turned into each other and George wondered how he could save this friendship.

He didn’t have any time to think about that though because Paul kissed him again, and he wanted this, and this was what he wanted… wasn’t it?

“Paul…” George pulled away from the kiss. (How could something that felt so good be so bad and wrong and-)

“George, I don’ know how to explain myself. Maybe I was jus’ so scared that you were gonna reject me that I spent all my time with John to avoid that. But I promise, really, I promise, Geo, I don’ feel this way about John.”

The thing was, George wasn’t sure if he believed him. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to. But… Paul looked at him again, and the room was dark, and his eyes were shining, and they were alone.

So if they kissed a few more times or fell asleep in the same bed together, that would be enough right now. (And if John and Stuart came back the next morning, John’s collarbone littered with suspicious marks… Well, Paul wore them too, and George could lose a bit of the green in his eyes.)

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 16)

We've just seen a pretty stressful arc, and on the other end of this post is yet another stressful arc. Upcoming is little break from serious plotlines to focus more on relationship growth and introduce some concepts that may seem minor now but will be pretty important later (though that will especially be the case for Mikan's perspective).

I'm on something of a vacation right now so I don't have a lot of time to format and work on this. The editing might be somewhat limited so if there's more mistakes than usual (not that I ever make mistakes) then I'm very sorry.

Chapter Seventy-One

The next few chapters are a welcome respite from the stresses of two major arcs. We just had to deal with Natsume’s heavy backstory, Mikan’s near-death experience, and a lot of fighting. The next major arc is the Sport Fest, and that gets pretty heavy very early on. So having a short break like this is more than needed so that we can catch our breath and maybe foolishly hope that everything will stay “back to normal”.

We join Natsume, who is again looking wistfully at the little Christmas-wrapped bag. We still aren’t entirely sure what’s in it, reading for the first time, but we can surmise it has something to do with Mikan. But reading for the nth time, we know that it’s his alice stone, and he’s been keeping it with himself since at least New Year’s, but probably earlier as well.

Quick! Put that away, it's embarrassing!

He’s interrupted by Ruka, who is eager to spend time with his friend. They’re both able to laugh and joke with each other, which prompts Ruka to say that he knows Mikan helped Natsume get to the point where he can laugh freely.

It’s interesting, because, even though it should be, Natsume’s DA class life is not necessarily any easier. In fact, it’s harder. He’s going through more now than ever as a way to take all the punishment for the problems with the Hana Hime party. And yet somehow, despite all that, he’s still able to smile. He’s light-hearted. He’s at peace with his life, content simply to stand in the same vicinity as Mikan.

Natsume’s love for her is pure and innocent. All he wants is to keep her safe. Seeing her happy makes him happy. The fact that she considers him a friend is more than enough to keep him smiling. He is not morose that she probably doesn’t feel the same. In fact, in a lot of ways, he’d prefer she doesn’t, because he still can’t give much more than he already is.

So, yes, he can smile, despite his life not being much easier, all because Mikan is in it.

Ruka then points out another fact, that he knows Natsume stayed to protect Mikan.

Natsume confirms it. He says he’ll protect Mikan from anything that stands in her way, no matter what.

In the TokyoPop, he just says something like "no matter what" but here he just goes out and says it (sacrificing my own life...). Natsume's fate was obvious from the start. It was all leading to a specific outcome. It was always going to happen this way. He's just too eager...

This scene is a further example of how that scene from after the Christmas Ball has really changed their friendship. They are more open with each other. They have conversations. They laugh together. They communicate. There are still some topics Natsume won’t touch, but he can be open with Ruka about this.

Ruka says he wants to protect her too, because he also likes Mikan, and because he wants to keep Natsume smiling. After all, Ruka promised that if Natsume wasn’t smiling, he wouldn’t either, and now Natsume is smiling. That’s worth protecting, because it didn’t come easy.

There truly are no hard feelings between them about Mikan. They aren’t turning bitter, or arguing over her. There’s no resentment. They loved each other before they loved Mikan and ultimately they just want the other to be happy. And whoever Mikan chooses to love, if it even ends up being one of them, would be fine, because she’ll be happy too. Moreover, they both seem to be somewhat rooting for the other, and always have been, especially Natsume. He wants Ruka and Mikan to be happy, and because he’s aware that his life will be cut very short, he doesn’t think she will be happy if she chooses him, which would never happen, in his own mind. Why would anyone choose him over Ruka?

Ruka then reminisces on the day they both first met Mikan, where we get a full explanation of why Natsume tried to escape that day: not because of Misaki-sensei’s claims that Natsume was a repeat escapee, but because he was getting bullied and wanted a letter from his dad.

The story ends and they both notice Mikan crying, trying to find Hotaru. She finds Narumi instead, who makes a comment that he knew from the moment he first saw her that she’d save Natsume, and confirms that’s why he made her his partner. Now that Natsume is no longer such a troublemaker, and that he has done his job in helping him, there’s less of a weight on his shoulders. Of course, the wind is raging and she can’t hear him, but Natsume heard.

Who the fuck is Narumi calling a burden?

He’s angry because Narumi is right. He also finally knows who exactly pulled the strings to make them partners, and that he’s in love with her because of Naru’s meddling. So he jumps down from the tree and kicks him, causing Mikan, who was in his arms, to be flung far away.

That gives Natsume enough time to scold Naru for hugging Mikan in the first place, and also for having the audacity to say Natsume’s behavior was a weight on his shoulders. Essentially, stay out of my business, despite the fact that Narumi sticking his nose in Natsume’s business is exactly the reason Natsume is so happy right now.

But even when Natsume storms off and Mikan angrily follows him, and they’re both trailed by Ruka, Narumi can see the truth. He was spot on.

Chapter Seventy-Two

This chapter is a fountain of lore! There’s so much new information and the online scans have kept me ignorant to it for a long time! There’s a lot of text and info, so it might be daunting to have to translate it all and write it out, but the price of saving time is that fans who care will be at a disadvantage.

I wanted to share some of the information that I’d found lacking in the scans just in case anybody wanted to know: the more powerful a user is, the more control they have over a stone’s size, shape, and vividness of color. Thus, Tono, a powerful alice user, can make his alice stone look like an eggplant. You could imagine a powerful user making their stone heart-shaped, or more circular or ovular depending on what they like best. The color of the alice stone reflects the user’s personality and maybe even their alice, not necessarily their favorite color, which is how Ruka’s ends up being a cream/brownish color, and not blue like I’d imagined for years. Koko reads some color meanings from an aura textbook to help sort out what the colors in a stone might signify.

This is all brought on anyway by Mikan being followed by an aquamarine alice stone, which we can tell is probably Sakurano’s. Out of loyalty to Yuka, he has strong wishes of wanting to protect Mikan, hence the stone following her around and being aquamarine, which symbolizes feelings of compassion and care.

Natsume and Ruka are both confused about this stone--it’s neither of theirs, after all--but since Mikan has so many friends who care for her, even amongst the staff and upperclassmen, it honestly could have come from anybody.

Although everyone wants to see Natsume make an alice stone, seeing as he is the most powerful alice user in Class B, Narumi makes it clear that he’s already learned everything there is to know about making stones, and thus can do whatever he wants during the lesson, which is what Natsume had wanted. This is intriguing information, because Narumi says specifically, “There’s nothing more we can teach him,” which begs the question: how does Narumi know? Has Natsume shown the staff his alice stone? It’s unlikely he would’ve asked a teacher for help in creating one, since he doesn’t trust any of them as far as he can throw them. But maybe, in order to get out of doing the lesson, he showed a teacher his alice stone to prove that he doesn’t need to be taught anything.

Tono brings up one last tip before they all begin to make their first alice stones. For once, you’re not using your alice for your own use. Somebody else will be using your stone, so how you feel about the person will come out in the stone, whether it’s good or bad. Wanting to protect or harm somebody, whether you have concern or resentment towards them, it will all show up in the stone, so focusing on certain emotions is tantamount to getting the result you want. These feelings can also influence the color, like everything else.

Red is mentioned as being a color of passion and strong feelings, and although Natsume's alice stones are all red anyway, according to his personality, it's interesting that when he makes a stone just for Mikan, it comes out as such a vibrant red. He is very passionately in love with her and it shows in the color. He also only had to think of her to get such a huge stone, and although that's also due to the fact that he has such a powerful control over his alice, it's also impressive that just thinking of her yielded such results.

It is after this lecture that Mikan is finally made aware of the true meaning behind exchanging alice stones and the romantic significance it can carry. Anna and Nonoko explain that the romantic tradition is what inspires girls to give stones with their chocolates on Valentine’s Day, and that it can also connote a proposal of marriage.

Mikan freaks out now that she knows what she and Ruka essentially promised. Natsume can see that she’s freaking out, but because he saved himself this humiliation by rejecting Mikan’s stone, the only person he’d really be concerned for is Ruka, whose feelings he was initially protecting by not telling Mikan anything that night.

Before anything crazy can really happen, everyone starts the lesson and gets to work making their stones. Although Iinchou and Hotaru are more successful, making stones that can actually be seen and held without a microscope, the rest of Class B isn’t quite as skilled yet. They’re all exhausted from the effort, even if it only gave them pebbles as a result, and all somewhat embarrassed and depressed that they couldn’t make bigger stones.

So Tono suggests they play “Alice Stone in the Dark”, that is, that you find someone in the dark and when the lights come back on, you have to exchange stones. Class B only gets really into this idea at the concept of getting their hands on a useful alice to make the most of the possible combinations.

He has this expression for the whole scene. He's so cute when he's flustered.

Thus the game begins, and even Natsume participates, albeit reluctantly. He’s probably just trying to avoid other people and possibly being forced to exchange stones--because he’s not going to make one on the spot and he doesn’t want to give away the stone that rightfully belongs to Mikan.

It turns out luck is on his side, because someone grabs his hand and when the light comes back on, the person is Mikan! She smiles in relief that she was able to find him, and explains that she wanted to force her stone on him. She keeps blabbing on and he doesn’t say a single word the whole time, just standing there shocked because of all the people in the class, Mikan wanted to give her stone specifically to him.

He's never gonna lose that tiny pebble... this is one of the best things that's ever happened to him.

It’s tiny and practically unusable, but that doesn’t matter to him. This little pebble is enough for him. She wanted to give him her stone, because she cares about him, and that gesture is enough to finally spur Natsume into leaving her his alice stone by her bedroom window. It’s more or less anonymous, but he wants her to know that she is thoroughly loved too, even if she has no idea who loves her this much.

Chapter Seventy-Three

It’s Valentine’s Day, otherwise Hell on Earth for popular Alice Academy boys. The romantic and sweet ingredients for chocolates at a normal school are replaced with potions and chemicals and pranks. The more popular and beloved you are, the worse your experience on Valentine’s Day will be.

Mikan decides to give her chocolates to all her friends, but they make it clear to her that accepting chocolate from anyone less than your true love would be terribly risky and stupid, so even if she does give it to all her friends, they probably wouldn’t eat them.

Maybe I’m wrong, but Natsume, who’s looking through a Sanrio catalog, wouldn’t be all that bothered about being one of many to receive chocolate from her. She specifically selected him to receive her pathetic alice stone, after all, and he’s made peace with the fact that they can never be together.

He does get bothered later, however.

He’s hiding, because it’s Valentine’s Day and he’s incredibly popular. He has an overly passionate fan club and closet admirers from all over campus, so being out in the open is dangerous business. He stays in the vents for a while, and thus he witnesses Mikan giving Ruka some Valentine chocolate, asking him to be the first to accept them. They both escape the classroom, Mikan dropping a little baggy of chocolates as she goes.

Natsume drops down and decides that he will be the first to accept them, actually, and eats them. It’s not anything huge, and Mikan won’t even find out that he ate them until a year later, but for now, he’s just acting on his own. He can be selfish here because nobody else knows about it. It’s just a harmless little thing to make himself feel better, with absolutely no consequences. Besides, he finds the chocolate disgusting, so no harm no foul.

Natsume, she couldn't have asked you first, she didn't even know where you were!

The climax of the chapter happens when all the most popular boys in school: Tsubasa, Tono, Natsume, among others, are all running from a stampede of rabid and sadistic girls. They’re flinging chocolates willy-nilly, desperate to get a catch. One is heading right towards Mikan, so Natsume gets in the way, catching it just in time, right when a girl flings one into his mouth.

Natsume has just consumed a love potion chocolate, selflessly, for Mikan (this chapter is so silly), so of course he’s now infatuated with Tsubasa, who is terrified, because it’s embarrassing and because Natsume will be pissed when the potion wears off.

This is very romantic but very ridiculous. Natsume really does take protecting Mikan quite seriously.

More or less, since the love potion is like a pheromone extract, we can see how Natsume has changed in his reactions to such an alice. In the very first chapter, Natsume passed out entirely from the pheromones. Misaki explained that someone entirely inexperienced in romance would pass out immediately, but Natsume is no longer inexperienced, so there’s way more of an effect.

The chapter isn’t particularly important, especially compared to the alice stone one, but it’s a silly little break from the real drama.

Chapter Seventy-Four

The next two chapters are joint, forming the little “Elementary Graduation” arc. We find out that students are to remain at the academy until they are twenty years old, so Natsume wouldn’t have to just power through another seven years, but nine until he could truly be free, and that’s much harder to accomplish.

Anyway, Mikan has seen the senior graduation and is inspired to do something special for the elementary graduation. She doesn’t just want to sing a lame song, she wants to do a special performance! Thus begins the drama of Sumire bossing everyone around because she’s one of the only kids with any real musical talent in a class full of amateurs.

One such amateur proves to be Natsume, who confidently selects the sax to play. Everyone, so convinced that he is talented at everything, is shocked to see how horribly he plays his instrument. Class B gets more and more enraged with Sumire’s attitude, only in part because the only lackluster performer she won’t call out is Natsume, who plays the worst of all of them.

The class breaks in two, and Sumire decides that she will play solo with two other partners who are musically inclined, leaving everyone in the dust. They cheer up eventually, when Ruka leads the class in an impromptu playing session, where everyone prioritizes fun over sound. Even Natsume joins in with his sax, and he seems to be making progress.

It's not a mandatory project, but he wants to join in anyway. (At some point Ruka comments, "You've gotten quite attached to that sax, haven't you?" which is cute because it shows Natsume doesn't just want to fit in, he's also genuinely interested in that specific instrument. Anyway Natsume as a famous jazz performer--)

Natsume electing to join in is very interesting. He doesn’t have to do this, especially because he’s terrible at the sax. He’s choosing to have fun with everyone and learn something new, even if everyone can see how bad he is to start with. He’s finally allowing himself to make friends, not just with Mikan, but with the whole class. He’s in a different place than in the first few chapters. Sure, he still has a fan club and devoted followers, but instead of viewing them as vessels to pass the time at best and annoyances at worst, he now considers them his friends. He wants to spend time with them and have fun together. And, no it wouldn’t have happened without Mikan’s help, but Natsume had to accept the change. He helped go on a mission to save Iinchou and Hotaru, to help Class B, and ever since he’s been slowly getting more involved in class. His birthday in particular also highlighted that his classmates care genuinely about him, so it’s made him all the more willing to repay the favor.

Chapter Seventy-Five

Mikan wants the two rival factions to make up, specifically Sumire and Koko. Nothing she says is enough to inspire peace and she’s distraught that no progress is being made.

She sees Natsume and Ruka playing with fireworks for no reason. They can tell instantly that she’s still bothered about Permy’s falling out from the rest of the class. Last chapter, Ruka tried to help Mikan by cheering everyone up and starting a little music session. This chapter, Natsume gives her advice. He says all relationships have ups and downs, and Permy is just aggravating the situation because she’s a kid and doesn’t know better. They all care about each other; they just need time to figure it out. And besides, he says, it’s way more Mikan’s style to give them an excuse to make up rather than forcing them to communicate. This cheers Mikan up and she runs off to come up with an idea.

They haven't known each other for a full year even but he still knows her pretty well. How cute!

Ruka teases Natsume for watching her and being a stalker, and we can see that despite what Natsume said about all relationships going through fights every once in a while, Natsume and Ruka won’t be having a fight anytime soon, least of all over Mikan. They accept each other’s feelings and are just happy to be happy and crushing on a girl together.

And Natsume has been paying attention, clearly, because he always keeps his eye on Mikan. Of course, he does this to keep her safe, because she’s being used against him by the DA Class, but also because he loves her. He wants to know everything about her, and see her everyday, so naturally small things about her would click into place for him.

Later, when Mikan figures out how to make everyone make up, Natsume is one of the first people to step up and help Permy. He’s helping Mikan too, because what she wanted more than anything was for everyone to make up, and it will help give the rest of the class the courage to step up too. He loves her, so he’s willing to embarrass himself playing the sax to help her bring everyone together again.

Conclusion

Chapter Seventy-Six has almost no Natsume in it, and his few appearances are pretty unimportant. He doesn’t do or say anything, so I felt comfortable skipping it. Anyway, these little chapters showed just how much Natsume has changed since he met Mikan. He’s now involved with the class, willing to have fun and embarrass himself. He is much more like he was before the academy stole all his vivaciousness. Of course, he’ll never be that kid again. He’ll always be more mature and selfless than he should be, but at least he can smile and laugh with the others for now. In the next essay, we’ll see that happiness evaporate as the academy narrows in on Mikan.

I don't think I'll be able to post on Monday, sadly. I'll try to post next Friday instead to make up for it, and to keep up four-day-a-week posting. I don't want y'all to catch up to where I am quite yet, so I'm going to put in a lot of effort into writing as much as I can whenever I can over these next few weeks. Thanks for reading, beloveds.

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[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Can I please request angst 5 and kisses 6 for the Tovar AU pretty please!! 💖

"Fluff #2 & Kisses #6 for the Outlander AU pls!"

Combining a couple prompt requests here! "Forget it, you're a fucking asshole." "Is there a reason you're blushing like that?" And needing to kiss to hide from bad guys. Gif credit @thewaythisis

Pairing: Tovar x Reader (Outlander AU Prompts) Warnings: A SMOOCH, language [Completed Prompts] [Prompt Fest Info/List]

“When?” you snapped.

“Two days,” Tovar said gruffly into his bowl as he dipped the stale bread in the broth.

“And neither of you thought to ask my permission? How I felt about this?” you could feel the hysteria rising in your throat as you suddenly lost your appetite.

“You don’t have a choice--”

“So, you’re going to force me to marry one of you? With a sword to my back?” you continued, your voice getting louder and he motioned for you to lower your tone. “I don’t understand why that asshole of a captain even wants me! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Hermosa, please--quiet…”

“Then tell me!”

He stared at you and was quiet. His fingers scratched gingerly at the scruff on his chin, brushing the crumbs out of his mustache instead of giving you an answer. You wanted to scream, to cry from frustration--you wanted to go home more than anything but that wasn’t going to happen. Every time you tried to get back to the artifact, back to your own time, something stood in your way. No one was listening to you and you couldn’t tell anyone the truth. Now, to complicate matters even further, you were a fugitive.

You weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“Forget it,” you threw your hands in the hair as you stood, shoving your chair back with a loud noise. “You’re a fucking asshole!”

Everyone was looking at you as you stormed out of the tavern and Tovar shoved the rest of his bread in his mouth and hurried after you. You were supposed to be laying low. The British army was looking for you and William had offered you the protection of his company, but that didn’t mean you had signed up to become a bride. Someone’s property.

“Wait!” Tovar hissed your name as you both walked out into the dark streets.

“Don’t touch me--” you jerked your arm as he grabbed you, but he held firm and spun you around to face him.

“What if I told you it was me?”

That made you stop dead in your tracks. “You?”

“He came up with the plan and I offered. I told William I would marry you--give you my name, make you a Spaniard. Happy?” he challenged you and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Why?” you asked, careful to keep your jaw firm, gritting your teeth. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I know what Captains of his Majesty’s royal guard are capable of--would you rather I give you to them?” he asked almost incredulously.

“You can’t just give me to someone, you don’t own me--”

“You are a very strange woman. Do you not understand how this works?” He gripped both of your arms as if he wanted to shake you. As if that would make you understand the danger you were in. “You say you have no country, yet both sides seem convinced you are a spy. You have no husband to protect you--”

“I don’t--”

“And you’re a terrible liar.” The two of you glared at one another before he continued. “Now, unless you want to tell me who you really are, you’re going to have to trust someone to help keep you alive.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You both spoke the agreement flatly through gritted teeth. He was so close to you, you could feel his hot breath against your cool skin. His armor smelled of well oiled leather and as the animosity died in your chest, you felt yourself wanting to reach out and touch it.

“So, you’re asking me to trust you?”

Tovar nodded with a soft grunt of acknowledgment.

“And you’re asking me to marry you?”

“To keep you safe.” He corrected you almost too quickly and you bit your lip.

“Ah, right. To keep me safe.” You watched his face work very hard to stay neutral but you could feel the way he gripped your arms ever so slightly. ”Is that the only reason?”

“Yes.” His tone was sharp but his eyes were soft. You looked down to his lips and then back up and decided that if he was truly to be your ally, then perhaps you could be a little more accepting.

“Then is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” you asked, allowing yourself a grin that you knew was partially wicked. For a highly skilled killer, he was particularly easy to fluster.

“I--fuck--”

He cursed quietly as the sounds of horses coming down the street made him look over his shoulder quickly. William had told the two of you to lay low for the next few days and he had promised to keep you out of trouble. Unable to take the chance of it being the very people who were looking for you, Tovar kept his grip on your arms and pushed you into the shadows of the alleyway. The stone was cold against your back as he pressed you against it but you were still only partially hidden.

“Pero--” you squeaked as he lost whatever internal battle was happening on his face and he leaned in and kissed you on the lips. He used his body to cover the rest of yours that remained exposed to the lamplight of the streets.

He used his knee to part your legs so he could lean against you completely, not taking a chance on any of the approaching guards seeing you. Despite the fact that most of him was rough and well traveled, his lips were soft and his kiss was kind. Your initial sound of protest turned to one of enjoyment and it seemed to make him more at ease.

Your arms slid slowly around his neck and kept him close. He was careful to keep his mouth closed as the soldiers passed and he continued the facade of your kiss. Part of you wished he would have asked permission for more because you weren’t entirely sure you would have said no.

--