#you can’t get better without first reaching a point of worse-ness

[soullessjack]

no I’m using it in a general sense ur safe ^_^

People rag on Dean for pointing guns at his loved ones but forget that Sam's the only one who's ever pulled the trigger on family with the intent to kill.

[matchamilkislover]

In The Darkest Corners, 8.

pairing: vi x fem!oc (reader with a name)

warnings: mature themes, just an overall minors beware, violence, just general arcane-ness.

word count: 1538

synopsis: it always gets better before it gets worse.

author’s note: i put in a small bit of happiness in this one. as a treat. you’re welcome :)

don’t forget to read the other parts first!!

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Vi and Olive ventured into Piltover as quietly they could, Olive biting her lip and swallowing cries of pain from her leg. The farther they walked, the more she began to falter, and each step felt like it may be her last before she finally collapsed. Vi kept sending her worried glances from where she supported her.

“Ol, you’re hurt, we need to stop,” Vi urged, trying to slow them to a stop. Olive gritted her teeth and kept moving.

“No, we can’t. We’re almost there, and stopping would be too risky,” she replied, hissing when she took another step but not stopping. Vi sighed but kept with her, supporting as much of her weight as she could without fully carrying Olive — she had a feeling her companion would resist that as well. Finally, they turned onto a lamplight street lined with giant gated homes, and Olive took an audible breath.

“This is it. Her house is right over there,” Olive said, pointing to what looked like the largest house on the block. Vi wasn’t sure whether to laugh or roll her eyes. “We’ll have to go around the back and climb onto the balcony. Something tells me her mom won’t be all that happy to see me,” she continued, picking up the pace. Vi was taken aback.

“Climb? Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow and looked Olive up and down. Olive shrugged.

“I’ve done it loads of times. It can’t be that hard,” Olive replied. “Come on, we don’t want anyone to spot us.”

Olive was wrong. As it turns out, it was very hard to climb a balcony after getting slammed to the ground and your leg slashed with explosive bits of metal and glass, even if you’d done it a hundred times. After watching Olive try over and over again to launch herself onto the wall, Vi sighed and walked over to stop her. Without a word, she grabbed the shorter confidently and threw her over her shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. Ignoring Olive’s hushed cries and protests, she casually scaled the wall with one arm while the other held Olive securely against her. When they reached the balcony, Vi hauled them gently over the railing and set Olive down on her good leg. Olive immediately turned and whacked her on the arm, glaring with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that?!?!” She accused in what seemed to be some sort of whisper yell.

“You were taking too long,” Vi replied with a shrug. “Would you rather I not help you and have us get caught?”

“There is a difference between helping me and throwing me ov-“ Olive’s rant was cut short by the sound of the glass balcony door being kicked open. Olive spun around to see just who she was looking for standing there, aiming a shotgun at the pair of them.

“Caitlyn?”

“Olive?” Caitlyn’s face went slack, and she lowered her weapon. She sputtered for a moment from shock, looking Olive up and down wildly like she couldn’t believe it was really her. Her face broke out into a smile. “Olive!” she gushed, dropping the gun to run over to Olive and squish her into a hug. “I thought I might never see you again!” Olive immediately sank into the tight hug, a smile she hadn’t felt in a long time spreading over her face. After what Olive was sure must have been quite a while, the two finally pulled apart.

“Where have you been? I kept thinking I would see you again eventually, but…” Caitlyn trailed off. Olive sighed.

“I couldn’t come back. Not after what happened. We’re actually here because, well…we need your help.”

—

After Olive explained the whole situation to Caitlyn, the latter sat silently on her bed for a good few minutes, contemplating.

“So you want me to go through my mom, the great iceberg, and convince her to let you have an audience with the council, to bargain with the gemstone that we can’t tell anyone about beforehand?” She asked, seeming to question the scenario. Olive and Vi looked at each other, a grimace on Olive’s face.

“Look, we know it sounds ridiculous, but unless we want everything to go up in flames, there’s nothing else we can do,” Olive pleaded, reaching out to touch Caitlyn’s hand.

“Silco’s done enough already. Without interference from Piltover, he’ll destroy anyone left in his way. Including topside,” Vi cut in. “There’s no other choice.”

Caitlyn sighed. “Alright. I will have a talk with her. In the meantime, you need to get that leg fixed up and some rest,” she said, eyeing Olive’s leg. She had been so distracted, Olive had nearly forgotten the searing pain going down her calf. Nearly. “I’ll bring you supplies. Can you do it on your own or…” Caitlyn trailed off, looking back and forth from Olive to Vi. It was clear from her body language that she still didn’t trust Vi, but trusted Olive enough to not outright question her judgment — at least not at the moment.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Vi replied. She was talking to Caitlyn, but she only looked at Olive.

“Ooohkay…?” Caitlyn said, raising an eyebrow before gently getting up off the bed and exiting the room to assumably grab a first aid kit.

“I think your friend doesn’t like me,” Vi said to Olive, only half joking.

“It’s not that, she’s just…never met someone from the Undercity before. Especially living with a council member for a mom, you can imagine she doesn’t exactly have the best impression,” Olive said, sighing. “I didn’t…before.” She looked at Vi with a gentle expression, like she was waiting for Vi’s reaction.

“I’ve always thought the same thing about topsiders. Look where we are now,” Vi replied, shrugging. “I guess we were both wrong.” A soft smile appeared on her lips.

“Maybe.” Olive replied quietly. Before either of them could say anything else, Caitlyn loudly reentered the room, carrying hoards of medical supplies.

“I took whatever I could find,” she said nervously. Olive held back a giggle.

“Thanks Cait, really,” Olive said, smiling. Caitlyn nodded, shot another uncertain look towards Vi, and then turned and walked straight out of the room — presumably to go sacrifice her ass to her mother for the two of them. Once she was gone, Olive and Vi looked at each other in sync and both laughed.

Olive was no longer laughing once Vi was picking debris out of her leg. She winced and let out a sharp hiss of pain when Vi got a particularly stuck shard of glass out.

“I’m almost done,” Vi said in a surprisingly soothing voice. She looked up at Olive when she spoke, her eyes filled with something Olive hadn’t seen before. Olive bit her bottom lip and nodded, closing her eyes when another piece was pulled out. By the time Vi was done cleaning and fixing up her leg, Olive was out of breath, and her eyes were red from the tears she had been holding back. Vi looked up worriedly, looking like she was about to move or say something when the door suddenly opened again.

“I don’t know how, but I convinced her. We’ll be at the next council meeting!” Caitlyn exclaimed, a shocked smile on her face. Olive returned the smile.

“You’re amazing, Cait,” she said, about to stand to hug her again before thinking better of it.

“Anyways, I’m assuming you two will be staying here because…well, you know. The only guest room we have ready right now is the one next door to mine, but-“ Olive cut her off with a wave.

“We’ll be fine. Don’t even worry about it, you’ve done enough,” Olive said. “Vi, why don’t you go on ahead. I think Cait and I have some catching up to do.” She turned to Vi and smiled expectantly. Vi nodded and stood to leave, her hand grazing over Olive’s as she moved. As soon as the door closed behind her, Caitlyn’s interrogation began.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

—

“…and I think that’s everything!” Olive finished her lengthy explanation of the last year of her life with a heavy sigh. Caitlyn gawked.

“That is most certainly not everything! What is going on with pinkie over there??” Caitlyn said, quieting herself as if Vi could hear them through the thick, grand walls.

“What do you mean?” Olive replied, trying to seem clueless. Her blushing face betrayed her.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Olive Whitlock. I have never seen two people with so much tension in my goddamn life!”

Olive laughed nervously. “We’re just friends, really,” she continued, trying to convince herself as well as Caitlyn.

“Bullshit.”

“I-“ Olive cut herself off with a sigh. “She could never see me like that. As long as I get to know her, I don’t care,” she continued, looking down at her fumbling hands.

“You’re so clueless, Ol,” Caitlyn replied with a sigh.

“Cut it out!” Olive couldn’t help but start giggling. Before long, the two girls had dissolved into laughter.

And even if it was just for a moment, Olive felt like maybe everything could be okay again. Like it used to be.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue have a good day together and bond. What was their relationship like before the qi deviation?

Boys - ao3

“Two paths, hmm?” Lao Nie said, squinting at the road markers in front of him. “Well, I don’t see why we can’t go down this one to the right –”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because little uncle asked me not to let you meet any new dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue said, looking as serious as ever – only his little hands, swinging to the side, revealed that he was just a ten-year-old. Still a child, no matter how mature he tried to act. “And a place called the Springtime Ghost Valley sounds like it probably has dangerous women.”

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”

“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”

That sounded like a recitation.

“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

In all honesty, Lao Nie had no idea how he’d ended up with a son as serious and sincere and earnest as Nie Mingjue – he himself hadn’t taken anything seriously in years. Probably it was his mother’s influence.

Now that was a woman.

Not that his foxy second wife hadn’t been woman enough to blow him away either…

Hmm.

Perhaps they had a point about his taste in women.

“How about men?” Lao Nie suggested. “If it really means so much to you, I could swear off of women entirely –”

“A-die.”

“Mm?”

“Leave Sect Leader Wen alone.”

Lao Nie cracked up.

-

Because Lao Nie was the father, however easy-going he might sometimes be, they ended up heading down the right-hand path regardless. They were supposed to be night-hunting, after all – it was the perfect bonding experience according to Jiwei, though Lao Nie suspected his saber of having selfish intentions there – and deliberately avoiding a place with ‘Ghost’ in the name was hardly appropriate for scions of a Great Sect like theirs.

Although the reference to springtime was admittedly a little worrisome.

If it turned out to be a brothel, with the ghost thing being just a clever if somewhat tonedeaf marketing ploy, Lao Nie was turning around and taking them both home at once. He wasn’t going to risk little Nie Mingjue turning out anything like that awful Jin Guangshan – or, nearly as bad, having to explain anything more about the joys of sex to those earnest little button eyes and dimpled cheeks with no time to prepare first. He still hadn’t recovered emotionally from the last few times Nie Mingjue had asked him a question like that.

When they finally reached the end of the path, turning a corner to behold a clearing that was probably completely ordinary during the daytime, Lao Nie found that he’d been both right and wrong.

“It’s a ghost brothel,” he marveled. He’d never seen anything like it in his life.

“Dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue reminded him.

“A-Jue! Let your father live a little!”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes.

Lao Nie virtuously ignored his slightly judgmental brat of a son. It wouldn’t do him that much harm to go visit for a while, with the risk of Jin Guangshan-ness being relatively minimal; they were ghosts, after all. It was the duty of every cultivator to fight against evil, wherever it lived, no matter its form –

“Fighting? Is that what it’s called?”

“Who taught you sarcasm?” Lao Nie asked, knowing perfectly well that the answer was himself. “I ought to smack them.”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at him. “Fine, it’s fighting, we’ll go fight them. Do you want me to start drawing ghost-repelling talismans?”

“Liberate first!” Lao Nie sang out. “Come on, let’s go see what they’re like – er, that is, I mean, see what grievances they have that are keeping them here, of course. There’s no harm in dangerous women. Just don’t let them eat your yang energy!”

“It’s not my yang energy that I’m worried about, a-die…”

-

The ghostly madame was an extraordinarily charming person and Lao Nie liked her at once.

Not liked her liked her – he’d fallen head over heels with both of his wives from the first word, and that hadn’t happened here – but still, conversing with her was an extraordinarily enjoyable way to spend time.

She was witty and clever, with a broad range of knowledge and a gift for keeping a conversation lively and exciting; she could meet every verbal riposte with ease, and looked utterly gorgeous and composed the entire time. Sure, she kept trying to lure Lao Nie into an orgy in which all of his yang energy would be slowly sucked out before his body was ripped to pieces and his bones cracked open so that the ghosts could consume the marrow within, but what a way to go, right?

Nie Mingjue spent his time making friends with the ghost prostitutes.

Lao Nie wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

Well, he supposed he’d been expected a range of things – anything from Nie Mingjue getting suckered in by one of the ghosts and needing to be rescued by his father to Nie Mingjue just pulling out his Baxia and trying to stab them because he felt offended by their existence. He wasn’texpecting his ghostly conversational partner to suddenly frown mid-sentence and say, “What is he talking to them about?”

Lao Nie turned his head slightly and started listening.

“– just because you’re a ghost doesn’t mean you have to work allthe time, surely,” Nie Mingjue was saying, completely serious and earnest in the way he so often was. Lao Nie’s son had in fact inherited his sense of humor, only it tended to be buried fairly deep down and make its way up to the surface in an understated way in the most unexpected times; the rest of the time, he was straightforward to a fault, treating everything sincerely. “The birds in the trees, the animals in the fields – even among prostitutes, even the street-walking ladies know they need to take time to rest! I can’t believe you really have to work every single night. How long has it been since you had a night off?”

The ghost prostitutes around him had contemplative looks on their faces.

“Isn’t the whole point of becoming a vengeful man-eating ghost that you have more power than regular humans? I don’t know, it kind of seems like a bad deal if you have even worse conditions after all that –”

“I’m sorry,” the ghostly madame said, looking irritated underneath all her carefully painted smiles. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

Lao Nie had to bite his hand to keep from laughing out loud.

-

“I think we’ve all learned a valuable life lesson today,” Lao Nie announced.

Nie Mingjue was pouting again.

“I don’t think we did,” he said, sounding profoundly skeptical. A filial child like Nie Mingjue shouldn’t sound so skeptical of his beloved father’s words of wisdom, really; if Lao Nie wasn’t so heartless, he might be offended. Of course, the skepticism might have originated from the heartlessness, so it was all six of one, half a dozen of the other in the end. “Those poor ghost ladies! They were still fighting each other by the time we left!”

“I’ve never seen a ghost pull another ghost’s hair before,” Lao Nie conceded. It had been brilliant. “One day, someone’s going to figure out a more reliable way to use ghosts to fight ghosts, mark my words.”

“Isn’t that demonic cultivation?”

“Oh, sure,” Lao Nie said, still cheerful. “If whoever it is does too much of it, eventually it’ll build up into a backlash that’ll kill them in some grossly horrific manner. Probably ripped into pieces by the backlash. And that’s not even counting how they’d be ostracized and hunted by the cultivation world first! But still, imagine how exciting it’d be in the meantime!”

“A-die…”

Lao Nie patted Nie Mingjue on the head again, earning another glare. “Immortality is a lie, A-Jue. We’re all here for a short time, each and every one of us, and only the length determined by fate and man. All that matters is what we do with the time that we have, and whether we’ve used it well.”

“To fight against evil wherever it lives, no matter its form?”

“To leave the world a better place than when we entered it, and to let our memories linger in the hearts of those that love us,” Lao Nie said. “Fighting evil is the best way to accomplish the former, and living a good life the latter. And you might as well have a good time doing it, if you can! Everything else is just extra.”

Nie Mingjue thought about that for a moment. “And a-die likes to have second helpings of extras?”

That was true. Lao Nie was a man of prodigious appetites of all sorts.

Despite that, he protested, “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I was being serious for once.” Seeing Nie Mingjue’s skeptical look, he made a face. “I can be serious, sometimes!”

“Can you?”

“It’s been known to happen! A date written on a wall will be right once a year.”

“Not if the wall gets painted over.”

“Ouch,” Lao Nie said. “I don’t even understand the metaphor you’re making, and I’m still going ouch.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Mingjue said, utterly unimpressed. “You know, if you wanted one of the ghost ladies to be Third Mother, you would’ve been better off with the one playing the qin, not the ghost madame. She was much more powerful.”

Lao Nie arched his eyebrows. “Was she?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “She had claws like a lizard.”

Lao Nie tried to remember which one of them had been the ghost girl playing the qin. He couldn’t quite remember at first – the women there were all surpassingly lovely, almost to the point of over-saturation – and then suddenly an image came into view, a beauty with a veil and sharp sword-like eyebrows, leaning over the qin with the shining pearl hanging in the center of her forehead dipping down.

And, yes, claws like a lizard.

“Hmm,” Lao Nie said. “That might have been a dragon, actually. You should be careful of those, they’re tricky.”

They’ll rip you and three dozen other cultivators besides into more pieces than can be picked up without blinking an eye, he meant, and you won’t even know what hit you. Avoid at all costs.

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, blinking. “Oops.”

“…what do you mean, oops?”

“Nothing bad! If I’m not supposed to interact with her, does that mean I should go and give back the gift she gave me?”

“She gave you a – give me that,” Lao Nie said. “This instant.”

“But a-die, you said there’s no harm in dangerous women –”

“For me, you foolish child!”

-

“I suppose it’s fine,” Lao Nie finally concluded, having inspected the dragon pearl from all angles several times over. “I don’t know how you do this, A-Jue.”

“Do what?”

Lao Nie thought about how his foxy second wife had cooed over his eldest son with a (slightly disturbing) fervor that she otherwise reserved only for eating snacks, and how viciously she’d dealt with anyone who’d even thought of interfering with Nie Mingjue in any way. He was fairly sure he himself had only survived his second marriage on account of having such a charming son.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, mostly because he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain – or if he even entirely understood. “Anyway, it’s nothing dangerous. Rather the contrary! Dragon pearls like this are given to baby dragons to protect them.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “What feeds on baby dragons?”

“…I think it’s mostly to protect them from themselves,” Lao Nie said, feeling a little uncertain about it himself. “And if it’s not, I don’t think I want to know, to be perfectly honest. There’s fighting evil, which is only right, and then there’s suicide, which is a waste – a wise man should know how to judge the difference between them. Anyway, that wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”

“It wasn’t?”

“It wasn’t, and you aren’t allowed to start worrying about the fate of theoretical baby dragons – I forbid it.” Nie Mingjue scowled. He’d probably started worrying already. “My point was actually that a pearl like this is a remarkably powerful protective tool for cultivators – one of those things that can only be found by chance and not made. Keep this on you, and you’ll never have to fear your opponent in battle.”

Nie Mingjue looked thoughtful.

-

“What do you want to do with that pearl, anyway?” Lao Nie asked after they’d gotten home and split up just long enough to take a nice long relaxing bath and gobble down dinner. “Do you want to put it in the treasury?”

Nie Mingjue blinked twice, which for him was practically the same as looking terribly shifty-eyed.

“You already did something with it,” Lao Nie deduced. “Something that isn’t using it as intended.”

“Oh, no,” Nie Mingjue said, looking shocked at the mere suggestion. “I’m definitely using it as intended.”

Lao Nie looked him up and down. “You’re not wearing it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t use it. Protection from your opponents in proper battle – that seems like cheating!”

Lao Nie felt a slight headache coming on. People who said they wanted a good boy for a son had no idea what they were getting themselves into, he reflected. Why couldn’t he have birthed a complete rascal instead?

“All right,” he said, instead of saying any of that because at the end of the day, bewildering as he might be, Nie Mingjue was his son and he loved him more than anything. “So what did you do with it?”

“I gave it to Huaisang.”

Lao Nie blinked. He supposed that really was using it for its intended purpose – protecting babies from themselves – although he suspected the dragon lady had been thinking of Nie Mingjue as the baby.

“Although…”

Lao Nie raised his eyebrows.

“…I think he may have swallowed it.”

My boys, Lao Nie thought, and had to sit down and hold his ribs because he otherwise feared he might split his sides from laughing so hard. Only my boys.

[fancyfade]

so ive been debating editing chapter 3 on my fanfic to make 1 scene line up more from canon. (chapter 3 is this one, where the characters deal with the aftermath of battle for the cowl, Tim finds out Damian’s Robin, and Dick and Damian move to the penthouse)

I’m debating making the Tim finding out Damian’s Robin scene a little more canon compliant along what happened in Red Robin (link) for a few reasons, the main of which is in the scenes that I’m writing next (like... chapter 47 lol), Tim and Dick do have to talk about what transpired when Dick made Damian Robin. Potential reasons for change

In my fic Tim kind of just left on his own without a push, but I’m not sure if Tim would have left on such bad terms if there wasn’t the complication of Damian antagonizing him and him feeling as if Dick was picking Damian over him (even though in the comic we saw Dick trying to de-escalate and get Tim’s back, it still felt that way to Tim)

I dislike the way some of this was handled in the comic and I can’t really comment on it in my fic if I just retcon it out

it seems fair-er I guess if Tim is allowed to have flaws just like Cass and Damian and Dick all have flaws in this fic. i know many tim stans think otherwise, but punching a ten-year-old victim of child abuse in the face out of anger is wrong.

the con side is obviously this involves Damian getting hit and that kid has been through so much already. I’m really trying to figure out how it works with character dynamics vs like. give the poor kid a break-ness.

anyway if I did decide to replace the current chapter 3, this is what it would be replaced with (only the first scene, the second would be the same). If you are a reader of the fic feel free to leave your comments. I would do an “oh and I edited chapter 3″ note before the relevant stuff was mentioned if I go through with this, I wouldn’t like expect everyone to know what happened. Some of the dialogue is not like exactly like in canon (cuz thats boring and also to match with what I wrote the first time) but the feeling/ beats should be similar

Gotham’s finally had a bit of lull in the violence, and Dick is just wondering how he’s going to do this.

He’s accepted that Damian’s his responsibility – seeing the kid shot in the chest made that perfectly clear, as much as he would’ve liked it to be otherwise. He felt like he was way too young to be watching out for a kid in any capacity other than cool older brother, especially a kid who’s as difficult to get along with as Damian. He was a great fighter, of course, and he knew it – Dick’s not sure he’s ever heard the kid be humble about anything. To make things worse, Dick feels like he’s constantly stuck in the middle between Damian and the kid he actually views as his younger brother – Tim, who Damian tried to kill. Evidence in point:

“Robin?!” Tim asks once he’s gotten back on his feet and Dick's explained his plan – away from Damian, who's still recovering from surgery.

“You made Damian Robin?!” Tim asks again.

Dick sighs. He’s in the cave, in a Batman costume he feels doesn’t fit right at all with the cowl off, and Tim’s still in his regular clothes. He has no idea how to explain this to Tim – no idea how to make him feel like he’s not being replaced. Dick never wanted to be the one doing the replacing – he remembers how much it hurt to find out that Jason was Robin from the papers, and that was after he officially stopped being Robin. Tim never quit – and Dick’s not about to make him – but he has to come home to the guy who tried to kill him getting his name.

“Tim, I know this looks bad, but Damian needs this.”

“Remember when we thought Bruce was going to retire after Crisis?” Tim asks. “Batman and Robin was supposed to be us. You and me. Not you and the psychopath that tried to kill me.”

“Tim, you’re not my sidekick, you’re my partner – ” Dick takes a step towards Tim with his hand out, prepared to offer sympathy, but Tim shakes him off angrily.

“Obviously not!”

“And Damian needs me way more than you do. If we don’t keep an eye on him, he’s going to kill again.”

Tim scowls intensely. “That should really not be an endorsement for being Robin, Dick! He’s a killer! He belongs in jail!” Tim swallows a little and then lowers his voice out of shouting range. “Dick, he didn’t try to kill me because he for some reason thought it was the only way to stop me from doing something bad, as far as I can tell he just wanted to replace me. We’re talking about someone with absolutely no sense of right or wrong.”

“Of course he doesn’t have a sense of right or wrong. He’s a ten-year-old child who was raised as an assassin from birth!”

“Lots of our villains have really sad or sympathetic reasons for doing crime, that doesn’t mean we team up with them.”

“Are you serious?” Dick asks. “This isn’t the same, Tim.”

“How not?”

“Well for one,” calls Damian's voice from the stairs, and Dick can't help but cringe and think not now – “I'm a lot better than them.”

Dick's cringe only intensifies when he turns around to see what Damian is wearing. His new Robin costume.

Tim's hands clench into fists the instant he sees Damian. Dick knows he has to de-escalate things quick before Tim and Damian have another fight.

“Damian,” Dick says, trying to keep himself carefully neutral-sounding. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

Damian lifts his head up slightly so his nose is in the air, and walks down the stairs almost normally. There's only a little hesitation in the twist of his torso, a little stiffness of his right arm.

Either he's zoned out of his mind on painkillers or depressingly good at masking his pain for a ten-year-old.

“Please,” Damian says. “I was trained in the League of Shadows. Do you really think an over-the-hill ex-Robin could put me down?”

Tim's fist clenches further, and so Dick says, letting a bit more urgency slip into his voice, “Damian, shut up. Now.”

Damian puts his left hand on his hips and looks intentionally at Tim. He adds, “I'm not Drake – ”

He's barely got the word out before Tim leaps forward and punches him in the face. Dick's out of his seat, grabbing Tim to hold him back, who is still distressingly struggling against him, like he wants to keep up the assault despite the fact that Damian fell to the floor.

“My name is Tim Wayne!” Tim shouts as Dick is still holding him back.

Damian gingerly sits up. Dick prepares to release Tim, prepares to stop Damian if he has to, if he decides to get revenge. But he doesn't. He just briefly braces his right side with his left hand before wiping the blood off his face.

“I let you get that shot in, Drake,” Damian says, again dropping intentional emphasis on Tim's original last name.

As he does, Tim struggles forward.

“Tim, back off!” Dick says, because Tim still isn't cooling down –

“I want you to feel good about yourself,” Damian continues.

Tim seems to relax his stance slightly, so Dick, possibly in an error of judgment, lets Tim go. But Tim doesn't try to attack Damian again, he just shakes Dick off and starts stomping away. “You want me to back off? Fine.”

He's going for the exit.

If he leaves –

Dick can't chase him. He's not sure that he can leave Damian alone –

“Tim, wait!” Dick says, taking a step forward. “Bruce is gone. But I still need you.”

“For what?” asks Damian and damn it is there anything this kid isn't going to try to ruin?

“Shut up, Damian,” Dick says again, even though as far as he knows he's just going to wind up pushing Damian away too –

And Tim leaves.

Dick turns to look at Damian. The kid's already back to his feet, like nothing happened, and Dick takes a step forward to inspect the injury – though he's really more worried about the gunshot wound than Tim's punch. Both Tim and Damian had wound up injured pretty badly during the chaos that gripped Gotham in the rumors of Batman’s death. As his new and not-improved version of Batman, Jason had tried to kill them both, which Dick is way less than pleased about. He’d been kind of hoping that they could talk Jason down, but this seems like a line he doesn’t know if Jason can ever un-cross. He shot a ten year old in the chest.

Damian grabs Dick's wrist as he reaches out.

“Are you all right?” Dick asks.

Damian scoffs. “You're worried about Drake? I've been hit harder sparring my mother.”

“I was thinking about the gunshot.” Alfred had said the primary damage was blood loss and a punctured lung (well, traumatic pneumothorax, but Dick knew what he meant) and given the kid a minimum of four weeks downtime to heal.

It's hard to tell due to the domino mask, but Damian adopts the position of a kid who's rolling their eyes, head slightly tilted to the side with a loll. “It's not enough to impersonate Batman, now you want to impersonate my mother?”

Dick doesn't know how to approach the mother thing, so he doesn't even try. He just explains the logic for being Batman – (and there is logic behind it. It's not like he wanted this). “Someone has to step up and convince Gotham things can get back to normal,” Dick says. “And serial killer Batman wasn't going to cut it.”

“Did you at least take care of him?” Damian asks.

Dick knows that Damian isn't actually worried about Jason's wellbeing, so he says, “Do you mean 'did I kill him'?”

“Tt. Obviously.”

“Obviously not.”

Damian presses his lips together in a thin line.

Dick might as well get this out of the way now. He's going to have to sometime. “Alfred wants you out of the field for four weeks.”

“That's preposterous!” Damian shouts, and as he shouts, he coughs. He rubs his chest quickly and then glowers at Dick when he sees him staring.

“Damian, you could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Jeez, doesn’t this kid have any sense of his own mortality? Though, Dick supposes, growing up around Lazarus Pits and a centuries old grandfather might make that impossible.

“I’m not a fool, Grayson, I know I’m not capable of healing instantaneously. I’ll take a break for one week,” he offers, like it’s a huge concession on his part.

“Four weeks,” Dick says.

“What about you?” Damian asks. “Didn’t you get injured?”

“Not as badly.”

“Are you taking a break?”

“Someone needs to convince Gotham that Batman���s not dead,” Dick says. Also, he doesn’t want to take a break. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Losing Bruce. Failing Tim.

“Tt. Then I don’t need one either. I’m younger. I heal faster.”

Dick actually has no clue whether that’s true, because he’s not a doctor, but he knows that people usually say kids heal faster.

Dick swings his arms a little, trying to feel them out. They’re still stiff, and as they move, a jolt of pain shoots through him. Even when he’s not moving, his shoulder is still sore. He knows that he might get injured going into the field like this and that it’s not a smart decision – last time he went into the field while still healing, he wound up blowing his secret identity to Blockbuster.

He decides that at least if he’s going into the field, he won’t tell Barbara and Alfred about it. Okay, so that’s probably not the smartest of his plans. Most plans that you have to hide from people who care about you aren't smart.

“I’ll take a week long break with you,” Dick concedes. “And we can see how fast you’re healing.” The second part is a lie, of course. He's not going to supersede Alfred's orders on medical matters.

Dick sighs a little. He figures that while they’re both on bed-rest duty, though, he can try to figure out how to set things up so they can operate effectively once they get a clean bill of health.

“How do you feel about not living in the manor?” Dick asks.

“Kicking me out already?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t be living here either,” Dick says. It’s true. He’d rather not feel like he’s living in all of Bruce’s old places, wearing Bruce’s old costume, … replacing him, essentially. He needs a place he can clear his head.

“Where would you live then?” Damian asks skeptically.

Dick shrugs. “The penthouse, maybe. Bruce already made a bunker nearby, so we could operate out of there pretty easily.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”

Because you are ten and not ready to live on your own. But Dick just says, “Well, you’re Robin now, right? That means you’re pretty much obligated to team up with Batman.”

“Batman isn’t here, Grayson. He never will be again, no matter how much you play dress-up.”

Charming kid. Like Dick didn’t already know that.

“You know I operate effectively alone, right?” Damian continues. “I don’t need to be hand-held and babysat like all of Father’s previous partners.”

Dick figures that it’d be a jerk move to remind Damian he just almost died and therefore really shouldn’t be on his own. Instead, he says, “Well, Alfred’s staying with me, so unless you want to get all your food and clean the house by yourself, you have to put up with me.”

“Tt . I don’t need a servant. I’ll just eat at restaurants.”

“On who’s money?”

“In the event of his death, my father’s assets should have transferred to me. His blood son.”

Oh boy. Dick rubs his face. “Does this have to be a thing, Damian? No one’s doubting your capacity to take care of yourself but I think it’d really be easier if we were operating out of the same building. “

A long silence on Damian’s part. “Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll allow you to stay at my penthouse.”

My penthouse. Of course. But Dick takes it. “All right,” he says. “Let’s move in.”

[theboywantscoffee]

The Handler is really a fascinating character to me as is her dynamic with Five and how alike they are. Get ready because I’m gonna go on a tangent about them.

I think it goes without saying that in many ways The Handler and Five are very similar people. They’re both pragmatic, goal orientated, cold, and quite simply, both willing to do absolutely anything needed to achieve what they want despite the repercussions others might face at their expense. They both lack a significant level of humanity, something that clearly is a requirement  to be able to do the work they do/did at the Commission. They are constantly at a battle of wits  and attempting to one up the other, both proving to be a formidable foil to the other consistently throughout the show. 

Where things start to contrast between the two is how they grew to be the people they are now. With Five, well, we know why he is the way he is. Five isn’t simply just a product of his childhood. Yes, he still retains a good level of characteristics from his youth into adulthood (arrogant, brash, sees himself as better than everyone else) but Five ultimately was sculpted into the man he is today due to his time subjected to the apocalypse and then shortly after, the Commission. 

The apocalypse did a number on Five. It isolated him for over four decades. It tore layer after layer of humanity away from him until he was left so distanced from other people that segueing into becoming an assassin was like second nature. It forced him to become entirely dependent on himself for survival in every aspect of the word. Physically, of course, he had to take care of all his basic survival needs; food, water, shelter, first aid, etc. Mentally and emotionally? He created a whole ‘nother person in the form of a mannequin to help him retain any semblance of either of those things. It damaged Five so deeply that afterwards he was left almost entirely incapable of empathy (key word, almost), unable to ask others for help/acknowledge he needs help, and able to see assassination as a reasonable means to justify an end. 

Five was left broken by the apocalypse. He is a product of it. And after going through that traumatic ordeal, he was offered a way out but only through accepting employment at the organization that sat by and allowed his suffering to go on for decades. (I’d love to go into the body modifications/DNA manipulation but that isn’t canon compliant for the show anyway (yet) so I won’t). He was transformed into the perfect killing machine. He took the lives of anyone and everyone who stood out of line by the Commission’s standards. Many who I’m sure weren’t actually bad people (ex, Lila’s parents), but because they were deemed irregularities in the timeline (or they were someone who The Handler could benefit from their death, ex Lila’s parents), they had to go. One doesn’t complete a task like that regularly without lacking a level of morality or connection to fellow humankind. 

But The Handler? We don’t really know her back story at all, so perhaps this is going out on a limb here, but I can at the very least say that she did not go through what Five did. There is really no one in the series whose backstory can equate to Five’s. And while I am not entirely excusing Five for being a shitty person sometimes, he and The Handler are very different in the fact that while he was sculpted into one, I think The Handler was just born an awful, monstrous human being. Actually worse than Five. And you know why?

The Handler isn’t even capable of love or empathy or putting anyone else before herself. We don’t see this at all, not even once. The Handler does things strictly for the benefit of herself and no one else. Even when her own self proclaimed daughter asks her if she ever loved her, The Handler doesn’t answer and then proceeds to murder her. Que sera, sera. (Whatever will be, will be). No remorse. No regret. Nothing.

Five, for all of his faults and flaws and uh, murder, still remains more connected to humanity than The Handler. Despite everything he has experienced, everything he has lost, he still has an inkling of heart that’s still beating for others left in him. Because Five still does love and care for people - his entire life purpose is to keep those people, his family, safe and alive, even at the expense of his own happiness and life. Five puts his family before himself every episode, every damn step of the way. He survives 40+ years alone and then works as an assassin for an unspoken measurement of time, all to save his family. 

The Handler throws up the front of being a people person and charming. And she does it really damn well. But in reality she is not morally gray. She doesn’t do some good things and some awful things. She is just all around horrible. She employs Five, again, to work for the organization that tore so much away from him. She dangles the idea of a new body before him, gives him a suit with the claim, “clothing make the man, Five,” as if he isn’t something to be taken seriously in his current physical state, as if he still isn’t the man who survived a lifetime in the end of the world and becoming an assassin. She claims that Five owes her because she ‘saved him from a lifetime of being alone’, which in actuality she watched and allowed him to suffer exactly just that. (I have another meta on here about that scene in particular, which you can read HERE). She tricks Five into murdering the board so she can assume power, all under the guise of claiming to help him get his family back to 2019, only to then use him as a scapegoat in their assassination. She literally kills him (almost) and all of his siblings. She writes the kill order on Lila’s parents, lets Five kill them, and then kidnaps Lila all for her own benefit. She continuously lies to her, ultimately betrays her, and kills her too. She sees zero wrongness in kidnapping a disabled boy from his mother so she can transform him into her weapon just like she did Lila. There isn’t a single instance in the entirety of the show where The Handler shows even an ounce of regret, only shock and anger when things don’t go her way. She is power hungry, merciless, and quite possibly even deranged with how unemotive she is towards other human beings.

And one more thing I want to touch on with The Handler that is a bit of a controversial topic in the show - her handsey-ness with Five. Her unnecessary touching and closeness. I am a firm non believer of the idea many have that her and Five used to be involved romantically or physically in any way. I think it’s quite a reach to imagine Five trusting her whatsoever at any point during their time knowing one another. Five is observant as hell and smart - I just can’t see him ever having an ounce of trust in her, especially with again, how she blatantly admits to him when they first meet that the Commission has been watching him for some time. So no, I don’t think her creepy touches with him have anything to do with a former fling (even if Kate or Aidan play into it that way or claim they might have in the past - sorry, headcanon not accepted lol). 

I view her behavior as demeaning. I see it as her being condescending towards him, like, “Oh, see how you betrayed me and now look at how you fucked up. Small and weak and nothing to be taken seriously.” She treats him like the tiny child he has physically become and she does it to make him feel inferior and like he has no control of the situation he is in or his life. It’s a slap in the face, a reminder of what he has done to himself because he left the Commission, and she does it because she knows how much it bothers him to be perceived that way. Everything she does and says around Five, she does to make him feel small. 

All in all, I really do love The Handler. Do I love that she played a larger role in season 2 than Carmichael? Absolutely not. I don’t love what her character did for the writing or the plot of the show and how it backburnered a lot of things. I think they missed out greatly on a character who was already a fascinating antagonist to Five (Carmichael). However, Kate Walsh is an absolute delight to watch on screen. Her and Aidan have great chemistry and play off one another very well and their scenes are certainly some of my most favorite to watch. I think The Handler is an amazing villain and keeping her as a female as opposed to a male Jon Hamm esque actor as they originally were intending to do was a great idea IMO. I love a female bad ass, even if she is a villain. I’m sad we won’t see more of her purely because she is so fun to watch (and her wardrobe is utter goals) but I’m definitely ready to move on to the next set of antagonists for our favorite dysfunctional family.

[kiarou]

Fire Emblem Three Houses is, to date, the most successful Fire Emblem game- both commercially and critically. It took me a while to play and complete the routes, but after having done so, I can understand why. FE3H is a radical departure that really emphasizes the characters over the gameplay. The FE series is currently going through a rebirth process that mixes several genres, resulting in a massive game that has its ups and downs. When it’s good, it’s really good- better than FE4 and FE6. But when it’s bad- it’s worse than FE Fates.

As a FE veteran, I had many moments where I was questioning if what I was playing was actually an FE game. At times it felt like a dating sim and other it felt like a visual novel. Both of those aspects aren’t bad, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that some of the more interesting map designs and FE game mechanics got lost in the rebirth.

However, I pleasantly surprised by the main three lords. These three are some of the most interesting Lords to ever be in FE. I tend to have a penchant towards Dimitri since he is the most traditional FE lord with complexities and morally gray areas built into his character. The result is a character with massive amounts of depth and nuisance. The same goes for the Edelgard and Claude. I think all three complement each other as difference aspects of FE archetypes, highlighting the positive and negatives of those traits. Edelgard is the idea of empire- that only the strong would be able to rule. Dimitri is the idea of the king- that only the chosen should be able to rule. And Claude is the idea of the Machiavellian politic- that only the exploiters can rule.

The concepts of war, tragedy and perspective are the most interesting part of the game. However, the scope and breadth of those concepts lead directly to my biggest criticism. Most of which revolves around the writing and how the events unfold from point A to B. This problem is twofold- first from a game play perspective and second from the perspective of Byleth.

My first point is simple- the individual routes are simply too short. 21 chapters did not seem enough to wrap up each of the routes. I can’t help but get the feeling that the original story for the game was sliced up into subpar outlines to produce passable plots that end without a proper conclusion. I can’t play BE and gain closure on TWSITD, and same goes for BL. But both routes provide satisfaction for the larger geopolitical situation. Meanwhile GD rushes through the political conflicts with flippant ease only to fully delve into TWSITD as a true ending- while most of the characters have very little to do with the organization. Both Edelgard and Dimitri have more reason to seek the truth than Claude.

And even within the routes, I feel not enough time was given to the world, specifically in part II. How great would it have been to have a map showing Dimitri’s escape from execution, similar to FE7 Chapter 11 Hector Mode where you control only two units (Dimitri & Dedue) and have to make it from one end of the map to the other. Or to have a map where Edelgard storms the castle to reach her father so that she can become the new emperor. A lot of plot points in the game happen off screen and with very little explanation. As much as I love Dimitri’s exile and fall into madness, I never got to see it and it made it that much harder for me to understand him, which really hurt his eventual character arc. My point here is that each route would have benefited from 28-35 total chapters to flesh out the events of part II.

I understand that a lot of plot threads were split up and placed in other routes to provide incentive to play the other routes (so that one can see the full conclusions), but I would argue that part I makes the replay value excruciatingly painful and that the strength of the characters fully explored would be reason enough to replay (like FE8’s split route)

On a side note, was anyone else confused by how the time skip was handled? Byleth just fell asleep? Why do that when you have a perfectly good mechanic already introduced. The spell of Zahra would have worked as a perfect reason for a time skip. Byleth gets trapped, escapes but time has passed differently and it’s now 5 years later. This handling of the time skip had me completely flabbergasted.

On the note of Blyeth, that leads me to my second point. Byleth is a narrative road block. On one hand, I understand the reason for Byleth’s inclusion as a self-insert character. But on the other, many of the decisions in how he/she interacts with the world really hurt the story. The decision to make Byleth never speak or have a defined personality made every interaction awkward for me and difficult to take anything relating to him/her seriously. Another point of serious contention is how the story treats Byleth as the main character.

The three new lords of the series are so interesting yet they are treated as side-exhibits for the main attraction of Byleth. When I chose a route, I chose it to spend time and see one of the three Lords be the protagonist. Instead, in every route, the majority of the time and effort are spent on Byleth and his/her past and super-special-ness. In my opinion, the houses leaders should be the main driving force and the focus of that route, like any other Fire Emblem entry sans Fates.

Despites these negative points of a rushed story in all three routes and the annoying intrusion of Byleth, I greatly enjoyed the game and appreciate how many new fans it has brought to the series. I have high hopes that they can fix some of the writing issues and improve on their map designs for the next entry.

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 3:

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

Previous

Read chapter 3 on AO3, or read below:

“Sherlock Holmes.”

I barely have to think about it. “Sherlock Holmes was an omega.”

“No.” Cardan sounds totally affronted. “No way. How can you even say that?”

For lack of anything better to do, we have been playing this game for nearly an hour. Mostly fictional characters, but some historical figures, too, who are up for debate. As much as alphas would love to lay claim to every known conqueror, it just isn’t realistic. Cardan and I have already gone back and forth on Alexander the Great and Ivan the Terrible and Ghengis Khan. Designations live in a kind of middle space between gender and sexual orientation, so people make assumptions based on the way you present in society, but also whether you’re an alpha, an omega, or a mythical beta is, technically, no one’s business but yours. So, especially in older stories, these things go unsaid or are discreetly left for the reader to surmise.

“Why would he be an alpha?” I challenge.

Cardan is sitting in his corner, one leg propped up, elbow on knee, same as before. He shrugs. “I mean, he feels empowered to take charge in crime scene investigations, he’s assertive—”

“You’re thinking of the BBC reboot,” I scoff. “The way Conan Doyle wrote his Holmes wasn’t like that. He was an expert, yes, and knew it, but he admitted it when someone bested him, and he went out of his way to help vulnerable people. People who had been scammed, or… single women.”

As bad as it seems for omegas and women—especially omega women—now, it would have been even worse in the stratified Victorian era. We still have our strata, but they were more codified then:

Alpha men

Alpha women/omega men (depending on the situation)

Omega women

And, of course, it was all way worse when race and class got thrown in. The point is that someone like Violet Smith of “The Solitary Cyclist”—a woman, assumed omega, and poor—would have been in real trouble without Holmes’ help.

“So he’s an omega because he’s nice to widows?” Cardan asks, with a glare.

“No, he’s an omega because he pays attention,” I reply. “Alphas don’t need to pay attention the way Sherlock Holmes does. You just waltz in and traipse all over whatever or whoever and always get your way. Who cares about the details when you’re an alpha? But Sherlock Holmes looks hard at the little things. You don’t do that if you don’t have to, if you’re not used to walking into a room and assessing threats, figuring out the balance of power. All the time. Because it’s exhausting, but you have to do it.”

Cardan is quiet for a beat too long, and I realize I may have actually said more about myself than about Sherlock Holmes. But he spares me by saying, “Surely we’re not all that bad.”

I make a noncommittal sound.

“Your dad’s an alpha, right?” he continues. “He took you and Taryn in after your parents died. He didn’t have to do that.”

I have to keep myself from snorting. No one who’s met Madoc would ever describe him as particularly nice or even giving. “Did you know Vivi has a pet conspiracy theory that he killed our parents in the first place?”

“What?”

“Not himself, obviously. That he hired someone to sabotage the car we were in.” I don’t know why I tell him. The second it leaves my mouth it feels like a family secret, or an in-joke I’m not supposed to share. But I can’t stop talking. “I mean, it was just luck we weren’t killed, Taryn and Vivi and I. But my parents’ car was new. The brakes shouldn’t have given out like they did. Anyway, Vivi thinks he took us in because he felt guilty.”

“I mean, that’s… crazy to think your dad was involved.” But Cardan says it too slowly, and hastens to add, “He isn’t a supervillain.”

“Yeah, I know. Just with everything that happened after, the way he swooped in, she was always suspicious.” I feel my mouth twitch, but I don’t know whether I want to smile or scowl. “I think she wanted us to be like The Boxcar Children and run away to live in the woods.”

“Well, you’re getting the one-room, no-running-water experience now.”

I catch myself smiling—he’s funny—and force my mouth into a frown, scouring our little room again for anything useful. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Even the socket that would hold a bare lightbulb is empty. Finally, my eyes settle on the one tiny window, set close to the ceiling, letting in a meager amount of natural light that does seem to have grown brighter as we talked.

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

“You want to what?”

“Step on your back,” I repeat, exasperated. “Are you tall enough to reach that window without a stool?”

“No?”

“Well, neither am I.” I fold my arms. “So I’m going to need you to give me a boost.”

He arches a critical eyebrow. “Why don’t you just sit on my shoulders?”

I blink at him. “Because… I thought you wouldn’t want to put your head anywhere near my crotch? Given how I reek and all.”

“But you thought I’d want to be stepped on? Jesus.” Cardan rubs a hand over his face. “What do you think I’m into? Look, I’ll crouch down, you get on my shoulders and look out the window. It’s not like I’m putting my face in your vag.” I shudder, and he adds, “We’ll never have to talk about it again. Okay?”

“Sounds great to me,” I say.

He nods and crouches down. I am not prepared for the way my heart thumps in my chest at the sight of the guy who made my life miserable since I was in seventh grade, who pushed me during gym, who whispered vile things in my ear whenever he could, who empowered other kids to do the same or worse waiting for me to climb onto his shoulders with his head bowed. It’s not real power, it’s just temporary, but it is intoxicating.

Then Cardan says, “Taking your time, huh?” and I snap out of it.

“Why the rush?” I ask. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I was thinking anywhere but here would be great.” He looks up at me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I swing my legs over him and let him hoist me up on his shoulders. I haven’t exactly been invited to participate in a ton of games of chicken fight in the pool, so it’s been some time since anyone carried me like this. Maybe not since Taryn and I were very small, just after our parents died, when Madoc would help us get things from high kitchen shelves. I gasp when I’m lifted. Cardan is strong enough that it seems effortless, but I also hear him let out a small grunt.

“Not a word,” I say, dreading the jab he might make about my weight. “Move me closer to the window.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Cardan mutters, but he obliges.

I am extremely conscious of his hands on my bare thighs, the way his muscles shift under my shoulders. Some alphas, like the guy who tried to grab me at the party, are kind of muscle-bound in an unattractive way. Not Cardan. Cardan has just the right amount to be fit and lean, with the bare minimum amount of body fat, but not so much muscle that he tips over into ungraceful. He’s a sports car of a person, lithe and elegant. It’s no mystery why his shirtless TikToks get so many views.

I get my hands on the windowsill so he’s not bearing my full weight, and then I groan. “Bad news.”

“What?”

“Well, I definitely can’t fit through here. I can kind of see the sky, so I would guess it’s maybe ten a.m. Otherwise there’s just a window well. Plastic and dirt. I can’t make out our surroundings at all.” I sigh. “We’re in a basement.”

There’s an awkward pause, and then Cardan says, “At least we know for sure.”

“Yeah. Put me down?”

He does, and we go back to our respective seats, mentally reviewing what we know. The only door is, of course, locked from outside. The floor is bare concrete, the ceiling exposed insulation and tubing, so we might be in a storeroom of some kind, or an unfinished basement in an older house. Our kidnappers left us with absolutely nothing, so no phones. Even my keychain, with the Swiss army knife Madoc gave me before my first summer at sleep-away camp, is gone.

We are growing hungrier and more sullen with each passing minute when there is a knock at the door.

Cardan and I glance at each other from our opposite sides of the room. “Um,” I say. Are kidnappers supposed to be polite?

Cardan shrugs one shoulder, then straightens up, lifting his chin in a decidedly imperious way. Trying to summon some air of command, some macho alpha-ness that will help us out of this. It could work—it is half working on me, I begrudgingly admit to myself, because my stupid brain is wired that way—if we weren’t both grimy from sitting on the floor and still a little woozy from the drugs.

“Come in,” he calls.

The door is opened slightly, and the first thing to poke through it is the barrel of a pistol. A 9mm, by the looks of it. Cardan’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“You kids willing to behave?” comes a voice. It’s a man’s voice, strangely melodious. I was expecting the sandpapery roughness of an old-school gangster. I know it’s stereotypical, but I’ve never been kidnapped before, and it’s not like they make a manual.

Cardan and I glance at each other again. I’m not sure what we’re looking to find in each other’s faces.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re good.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to shoot you.” The man pushes the door open the rest of the way, and I have to press my lips shut to keep from gasping. There are disfiguring scars that cut across his cheeks, down his jaw, even one across the bridge of his nose. I’m not even sure what makes scars like that, jagged and rough-edged. If it was a knife, it wasn’t clean work. Someone was making a point.

I am immediately relieved, though, because his resonant voice had made me think we could be dealing with a real alpha, someone whose words hold command. This man is of average height, average build. If not for the scars, for the obviously broken nose, he would be totally unremarkable.

“Who are you?” Cardan asks. I am reluctantly impressed that he manages to sound haughty in this situation. He’s sitting up straight with his back against the wall, one leg outstretched, the other bent, his foot planted on the floor. He’s resting his elbow on that knee, like it’s all effortless.

“Breakfast service,” replies the man, still pointing the pistol at us. He tosses a McDonald’s bag into the room, then he and the gun retreat, and the door shuts behind him. We hear the click of a lock and then, to my horror, the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place.

Cardan exhales and reaches for the bag.

“Don’t!” I exclaim. “Seriously, it might be drugged.”

“It—what?” he asks. “Now you decide to care about whether the food is drugged? This isn’t Flowers in the Attic, Jude. We’re hostages. They want to ransom us. They’re not going to poison us.”

I blink at him. “Flowers in the Attic? You’ve read a book?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the bag. “Well, if you’re not going to eat it, I will.”

When he opens the bag, the smell of sausage grease and egg hit me like a truck. My stomach growls. I am suddenly very aware that the last time I ate was before the party, and my nerves had kept me from eating much then. “What… is it?”

“Two McMuffins.” He looks up at me. “See? They don’t want to starve us. They’re keeping us alive.”

“They could still tamper with them. Sedatives or something. Keep us complacent, keep us from doing what we’re going to do, which is try to escape.”

Cardan arches an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you you’re unbelievably paranoid?”

I think of Taryn and purse my lips. “Did you know it wouldn’t kill you to take something seriously?”

He holds up one hand, fingers spread wide. “Okay. How about this. I eat a McMuffin because I am fucking starving, and if they put anything in it it’ll get me and work through my system faster. You can stay up scheming or whatever. If nothing happens after like fifteen minutes, you get to eat yours. Or if you decide to be stubborn, I’ll eat it. Deal?”

“It’ll be cold and gross.” I cross my arms. “But fine.”

“Good.” Cardan takes a McMuffin out of the bag—his hands are so big that it barely looks like enough food for him—and devours it in what must be record time. I turn my head away.

“Where’s the nearest McDonald’s, do you think?” I ask

“Huh?”

“We were in East Hampton. They don’t have one there.”

“Uh-huh. That’s a good point.” I look back to see Cardan sucking grease off his thumb. “Dunno. Closer to the middle of the island, maybe?”

“Maybe,” I echo quietly. Without knowing how long we were out, it seems impossible to figure out where they could have taken us. “You’re right. We couldn’t be in the city.”

Cardan shakes his head. “Nah, don’t think so. Too quiet, and like you said, that’s definitely daylight, so people’d be out and about.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at the window.

He looks at the window, too, but doesn’t say anything, and we lapse into silence. It’s strange, to be sharing space with him, to be quiet. I could never have imagined anything like it, not with our fraught history. There’s no world in which Cardan Greenbriar and I could be friends, but, at least temporarily, we are not enemies.

“Did you like it?” I asked at last, when the silence stops being neutral and begins to make me feel anew how tired and tense I am.

“Like what?”

“Flowers in the Attic.”

“Oh.” He blinks twice, his dark eyelashes fluttering. “I read it a few years ago, but, yeah. I did. You know, it was nice to read about a family that was more fucked up than mine.” He raises his eyebrows. “Spicy, too.”

I scoff. “How can your family be so fucked up you’d read a gothic novel for catharsis?”

Cardan drums his fingers on his knee. “How much do you know about my family?”

“You’re old money. One of those alpha families that claims they’re pure alpha for generations.” Which is pretty much impossible, but everyone in that tier of society tells the same lie. Half the kids in my school claim to be pure alpha, and on paper both of their parents are alphas. But while alpha men and women can reproduce—they have the right gametes—it’s not easy. More likely omega egg donors, and, before that, omega surrogates who were well-paid. It’s no wonder they see us as breeders.

I start ticking off additional facts on my fingers. “Your great-grandfather was one of the great American magnates, but it was his alpha daughter, Mab Greenbriar, who really made something of his millions. Your dad was her only son, so he inherited the whole corporation. You have five older siblings: Balekin, Elowyn, Dain, Caelia, Rhyia—”

Cardan holds up both his hands. “Yeah, yeah. I get the point.”

“It’s all on Wikipedia.” I shrug, and to sound less like a weird stalker, I add, “And Vivi and Rhyia are like best friends.”

“You know, and I know you said it before, but I do forget Vivienne’s your sister. She’s so cool.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

I get it, though. He probably thinks Vivi’s cool because she’s an alpha, but she also gets points for being the family rebel. Her biological dad, Madoc, adopted us all after the car crash that killed our parents, but she never wanted to be the natural successor he hoped for. Now she plays rugby at an all-girls’ college, has three cartilage studs and a septum piercing, shaves half her head, and is defiantly, unapologetically queer. It’s a different path than I would take, but marching to the beat of your own drum is definitely something that appeals to people.

“By the way,” Cardan says, “it’s been a few minutes and I feel fine. Well, as fine as one can feel having eaten only one McMuffin. I don’t feel any worse.”

“Okay.” I hold out my hand. “Toss me the bag.”

The bag crinkles when he picks it up, then he looks inside. “I think I’m owed a poison taster’s fee.”

“Huh?”

Cardan takes my McMuffin out of the bag, takes a bite out of it, then drops it back in the bag, which he proceeds to lob at my head. I catch it, face wrinkling in disgust. “Ew!”

“What? I need the calories more.”

I shake the bag at him. “I am not eating this,” I huff.

“We split the water bottle. That didn’t kill you.” Cardan sits back against the wall and closes his eyes. “Besides, who knows when they’re going to decide to feed us again?”

“You’re all so gross,” I mutter as I open the bag and pull out my breakfast. He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. I also hate that my hunger is enough to overcome my revulsion, at both the stolen bite and the undeniable fact that my McMuffin is now cold. I stuff it in my mouth, devouring the rest of it in only a few bites.

“Who’s gross?” he asks. “Alphas? Boys?”

“Alpha boys,” I inform him, with my mouth full.

“Big words from somebody whose designation’s known for leaking fluids everywhere.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “We’re not the only designation that leaks,” I point out. “We’re just the only one that gets shit for it. We’re the ones who’re thought of as gross while you and your type get to go around ruling the world.”

“Oh, sure. That has nothing to do with the way you guys are totally incapacitated for three straight days if you don’t take your drugs.”

“If we don’t get out of here, you’ll be just as screwed as I am,” I snap. “Stuck in a room with me? You won’t have a chance. We’re both going to become brainless fuck machines if that happens, so… shut the hell up.”

He does, to my surprise. I do too. I wipe my greasy hands on the McDonald’s bag, then crumple it into a little ball and toss it into the corner of the room. My anger is a living thing, running through my veins like electricity, vibrating under my skin. It’s been there for so long, but I would never have dared to say that to his face before. The rest of our situation is so absurd, so dire, it feels like there are no consequences for mouthing off at him.

That’s dumb, of course. There are always consequences. But at least they won’t be coming anytime soon.

“‘Brainless fuck machines,’” Cardan whispers quietly, and then he snickers.

“You—shut up,” I say, feeling unlikely mirth bubbling at the corners of my mouth. Cardan lets out another huff of laughter, and then I am giggling, and he’s laughing outright, clutching at his stomach. It’s ridiculous, all of my nerves coming out like that, but he’s laughing and it feels like there’s nothing for me to do but laugh too.

“Oh, man,” he says, wiping at his eyes. “I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I’m serious!” I squeal, my abs cramping from laughing and trying not to laugh harder all at once. “That’s what happens!”

“God.” Cardan lets his head fall softly into the corner. “We are so screwed.” He points one finger up in the air. “Metaphorically. So far.”

“Jesus.” I cover my face with both of my hands. “Jesus.”

“Jesus was an alpha.”

I peek at him through my fingers. “He was not. He literally said ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega.’”

“I’m just fucking with you.” Cardan grins, his hair flopping in his face, but then his cheer vanishes abruptly. “Wait, you’re not actually religious, are you?”

I shake my head. “Not really.” But I still know that common theology holds that Jesus—and angels, and any other holy beings I don’t know about—are not alphas or omegas, but they aren’t betas, either. They are all things and nothing. Must be a good life. I pull my hands down and squint at him. “Were you worried about offending me?”

“Me?” Cardan shakes his head to toss his hair out of his face. “Nah.”

“Well, good.” I cross my arms again. “Because you’ve never cared before, and it’d really freak me out if you started now. Then I’d know we were both losing it for real.”

“I just thought…” He shrugs. “I mean, it’d be nice if one of us believed in something. That praying could help. I’d like to believe that. Seems tidy.”

“Yeah.” I let my cheek fall against the cold wall, too, and blink away the memories of screaming at the night sky, demanding someone give me my parents back. I can’t fall into that pit. I will not.

I just say, “I stopped believing that anyone was listening a long time ago.”

Cardan scratches at the wall with his finger. “Me too, Duarte,” he said. “Me too.”

Next

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

002 | germano?

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it.

No idea but it was a long ass fuck time ago. Liked it for years but didn’t really start enjoying it until I started writing Romano myself.

my thoughts:

This ship makes me so genuinely happy man. I know GerCanMano is my flag ship but I love Germano just as much and I at least have a few crumbs of content for them instead of the other which has none. Germano just like-- Seeing Romano in a healthy relationship and seeing Germany happy makes me happy.

What makes me happy about them:

I’m not one for slow burns all the time but Germano to me is one of those slow burn romances I really enjoy. Romano is a sassy and salty flirtatious gentleman who keeps measuring himself up to the big broad and awkward-but-gold-at-heart class president who doesn't understand why the guy gets so upset around him and tries his best to remedy the smaller man’s anger.

The two just slowly developing, starting as rivals with Romano wanting the attention from his brother that Germany gets (and possibly the smallest bit of envy about measuring himself up to ger in macho-ness) and Germany just wanting to understand Romano and just like- how he ticks. Them slowly bonding over the simple things, realizing they both love mechanics and gardening and cooking. Romano being impressed at Germany’s baking (bonus points if say Vene has been bringing home baked goods for ages and he thought they were just from a bakery Vene liked but it was just Ger trying to get rid of the food hes stress baking) and Romano getting to show off his cooking skills. Romano feeling a bit of pride when he makes Germany laugh at some shitty joke or snarky comeback, he just hears that little wheeze or chuckle under Germany’s breath and knows he did that.

Romano having a whole I wont say I'm in love crisis when he realizes hes falling for Germany because sure hes cute and all but like what no. My Romano is very flirtatious but emotionally withdrawn he loves to flirt around but he doesn't actually think about long term relations cause he never expects people to care about him that way so falling for Ger throws him for a loop. But he knows he has to make some decision on it because he can’t get Germany out of his mind but the thought of Germany saying no scares him more than anything else ever has and the thought of breaking Germany's heart makes him more angry than he thought he’d ever feel

Meanwhile Germany is a mess because he has no idea what hes doing all he knows is that Romano’s smile makes him melt and every time he thinks of the future he thinks about the two of them passing tools to each other over the hood of a car and kneading foccacia together and hes doing all of the research he can to try and perfectly convey how he feels and it only works when he for once throws out his plan and just speaks from his heart and stops over thinking everything. And its wholesome and personal and cute and Romano starts crying halfway through which freaks Germany out cause he doesn't want to force anything and oh god did i make you uncomfortable but before he can apologize and backpedal Romano just grabs him by the shirt and pulls him down into a smooch and for once in his life Roma doesn't instinctively jump and when someone reaches out to hug him.

What makes me sad about them:

That they get sidelined for other ships and that people cannot have Germany or Romano exist in a narrative without Veneziano having something to do with it.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

People assuming Germany and Romano would be abusive with one another because Romano acts snappy and dismissive around him when in reality he does the same exact behavior to literally everyone else; America, Spain etc. But Germany is the one that’s abusive, and not the others. Germany’s never been shown to hate Romano, confused and rolling his eyes at his insults sure but never hatred.

A lot of people take this in the direction that they hate or abuse each other or worse, like Germany would cheat and use both brothers. Which is just not true, let alone Romano is too much of a blunt mother fucker to let it happen. He wouldn’t take that. Being used or measured second to his brother is so common to him you think he would just lay down and let that happen? No. And Germany isn’t the sleep around without a care or being in a relationship with two people because he can’t decide which he likes more type the guys a romance moron he doesn’t know how to date one man let alone commit adultery.

Which sucks because things like the chauffeur strips show that Romano and Germany are on at least amicable if not friendly terms, Romano is just being Romano, he does the same pissy but nice energy that he does to Spain and America to Germany. And there’s so much there that could be played with, of Romano being reassured by Germany that he’s not this evil bad boy in fact his brother can be worse than he is, and Germany would know Vene has been attached to his side for ages he would know Vene at his worse. Romano showing off to Germany, impressing him that yes Romano can in fact work hard when he wants to and feels inclined to. Which would gain him respect from Germany because he’s so used to doing it himself it’s always a pleasant surprise when people help him or don’t leave him to do everything.

But often in fics this is squandered for the whole ‘Germany’s married to Vene but he’s in love with Romano oh no conflict drama’ and they never make him choose. Or worse he has him two time one and then the other which just isn’t even fucking in character. 90% of the fics I’ve found on AO3 have the under current of how does their relationship effect Vene, how does Vene feel about it or how is he involved and it’s so stupid. It’s only ever done with Romano, never to Vene, Romano is always treated like an extra or an asset to Veneziano and its never the other way around. People don’t write Gerita fics and have the whole story about how Romano feels about it.

Germany’s feelings toward Vene can easily be stated in that ‘he’s just my friend’ it’s so simple but instead often its paragraphs on paragraphs of Germany grappling with his feelings for both and I’m just not interested. If I wanted to read about Germany’s feelings toward Italy, I’d read a Gerita fanfiction. Also you can’t tell me that if Vene found out about the two being interested or even one of them being interested in the other he wouldn’t start playing matchmaker he absolutely would. Hell if you want that “conflict” have Vene be jealous he’s petty enough to do that!

I’m willing to take the L on this and admit I just have higher standards, but I just want a fic that has them in a relationship from the start or they build up to it but not have the fic end the moment they get together or have their first date. One that doesn’t focus on a side plot about Vene and Germany’s feelings toward Vene. Where they just get to be wholesome together, piece their feelings apart together, and develop their love for each other together.

TLDR: I’m very salty about Germano getting the short end of the stick and want to see more sweet domestic germano.

Things I look for in fanfic:

For it to exist and for it not to be a vector to talk about Veneziano’s opinions on their relationship. I just want wholesome content of Germany and Romano building a relationship or a life together, AU or Canonverse wise. The cute dates, working on cars together, gardening, baking and cooking-- Germany playing piano or flute while Romano sings. Them dancing together. Romano taking Germany out to tour and sight see. Romano forcing Germany to cuddle with him in front of the fireplace if they go up during winter to his place cause he hates the cold and his block of a boyfriend is very warm.

My happily ever after for them:

I don’t really think about happily ever afters for them cause as nations their lives move on, they can’t really have kids but they can live together, work together, love together and honestly that’s enough for me.

My kinks:

These will be below the cut, because of ns//fw mentions.

(general sex discussion, bd//m discussion, toys and other such ns//fw things.)

Romano is a bottom little pillow princess but despite that he has the most control in the bedroom. Germany doesn’t lack interest but when it comes to instigation it’s fewer and far between, Romano has more of a sex drive than him. Germany’s more into kinks than Romano, but he has trouble being confident enough to do it so Romano is often baiting him into it. He’s a brat who wants to be tamed and Germany doesn’t mind Romano being rough with him and vice versa.

Romano’s more used to rough and tumble, so when Germany is very slow soft and sincere he gets flustered really fast and can fall apart a lot quicker. He also will cry when Germany compliments him too much early in the relationship. They have a lot of safe words at Germany’s request so if either of them get too overwhelmed they have a safe out and will just vibe and cuddle until the other feels better enough to continue.

Romano will give Germany is rope bunny fantasies every once and a while and tie him up, he’s not into much more than handcuffs and collars but Germany enjoys it so he doesn’t mind. He loves when he can convince Germany into roleplay and let Germany get into a more confident ‘character’. His favorite things are bites and blowjobs. Leaving Germany covered in red marks and scratches is his favorite and he loves the rare sight of Germany squirming under him.

Germany loves to body worship Romano, and messages all of the messages. Romano doesn’t like Germany dragging it out but sometimes he can’t help himself cause he just loves how pretty Romano his and he wants to just touch him all over. He loves when Romano plays with his hair (at least in the bedroom), and since Romano is way more vocal than he is he loves coaxing little sounds out of him through different touches and kisses.

[sparkleofpizza]

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 6/?

Requested: no

Warnings: underage drinking, swearing, sexual themes

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000 @malfoys-demigod @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @ijustwannabecanadian

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake

Word count: 3.658

A/n: I have no ideia if the league of assassins use cellphones, but for the purpose of this story they do

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

You wish you had brought a warmer coat or had thought better about what you were doing. Honestly when you reached out for the phone on your pocket and dialed Nissa’s Al Ghul number, you weren’t thinking straight.

But hey! Can anyone blame you? You just found out that one of the most horrifying memories you have isn’t actually real, your mom is alive and she is part of a very bad secret organization. Honestly, you thought you were handling it pretty well, you haven’t broken down into tears yet, so you saw this a victory.

“I need to talk to your sister.” You barked trough the phone, not even bothering to say hello “Tell her to meet me in Gotham near Crime Alley, at the old theater tomorrow night.”

“Little Queen. What is this about?”

“Does it matter, Nissa? Tell her I know about Malcom and the deal.”

“What deal? What is this all about?” She questioned again, clearly confused

“Get her to come, tomorrow night. Come along if you want to.”

With that you ended the call, placing the phone back to where it previously was.

Yes, you knew that contacting the League of Assassins wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve ever had, but you needed answers. You needed to know if what Oliver told you was actually true, and you knew that Talia would know. And you are going to make her talk.

In the middle of your walk towards nowhere, you realized you didn’t want to see Oliver again today, but you had to go back to the Manor eventually. You knew he was going to be there waiting for you which lead to you not having anywhere to go. Where are you going to sleep tonight?

You sighted, eyeing a bar from across the street you were in. Might as well kill some time at a place that wasn’t the streets. Even thought you know how to take care of yourself, you rather not be in the middle of a desert street, this is Gotham after all, you didn’t know this place very well, but you know it’s bad, way worse than Star City.

The bar smelled like cigarettes and cheap beer. You looked around noticing people around your age and bit older. Thankfully this isn’t an old creepy men's bar, the last thing you need is to deal with man who can’t take a no as an answer - although you weren’t opposed to kicking some assholes’ asses.

You took a sit at a stool, getting the bartender's attention. The man stood in front of you, a cloth in his hand as he was drying a cup. He was tall and had blond hair.

“What can I get you, miss?” He questioned, putting the cup and cloth away

“A marguerita, please.” You ordered

Tequila sounded good to solve your problems. It used to be your friend at events when you were younger, although you had to pretend you didn’t drink anything at all.

“Can I see your ID?”

You snorted, oh no, this guy isn’t ruining your already bad night.

You reached inside your pocket, grabbing a hundred dollar bill and sliding it across the bar's table.

“Here is my ID, dear.”

The man chuckled, grabbing the bill and turning around to prepare your drink. People were so easily bought with money it still baffled you. That made you wonder how many underage kids that shouldn’t be here drinking, got to drink because the bartender was bought with a hundred dollars.

You sighted as he placed the drink in front of you, taking a sip of it and letting the bitter taste of tequila and sour taste of lemon embrace you.

That was a really bad night. When you Tim started officially dating a few hours ago, you thought this was going to be one of the best nights ever, you didn’t expect for everything to go down hill once you had dinner with Oliver.

Dinner, your stomach contracted thinking about the food you didn’t have the chance to eat properly. All the coffee in your stomach was doing too little to keep you from getting hungry. What were you going to eat at a bar? The peanuts in front of you so you could have a bad allergy and die without air? Sounded pretty good right now.

Before you could realize it, you had already finished your first drink and ordered your second one.

“Oh, this marguerita looks really good.” Someone said, taking a sit at a stool beside you

You turned your head to the side, looking at Tim. He had his dark hair framing his face, a navy shirt and a really looking warm grey coat. You stared at him without saying a word as he smiled at your general direction.

“How did you find me?” You asked heaving a sight

He shuggred “I have my ways.”

“Did Oliver send you here to talk me into the shit he is planning?”

He grimaced a bit at your words, apparently not knowing what you were talking about it and sensing your discomfort.

“We” he said, sliding his stool a bit closer to you “don’t have to talk about it. But I am not going to let you drink alone, what’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on your face at his words. Did you really find the perfect man?

You watched as Tim ordered a scotch, the smile still present on your lips.

This is going to be a weirdly fun drinking night.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The bathroom wall felt cold against your back as you were pushed against it. You heard the door lock behind you before Tim was standing right in front of you, hands hovering above you on either side of your head as he used the wall to support himself.

His eyes were small and shining a dark blue, his cheeks tinted a pretty pink and a smirk adorning his beautiful lips. His hair was a bit disheveled. You took into his appearance, glad you were the one with him in this small bathroom bar.

6 drinks each had lead you to this situation. You both locked at a bar's bathroom that didn’t smell that good. It was around 2 am and you thought he would’ve already left to go to patrol after taking you home, but no, there he was with you all night long.

“You are so beautiful.” Tim whispered in your ear, his hot breath and rasp voice sending shivers down your spine

His lips met the skin behind your ear, then his lips ghosted over the path to your mouth until a few inches away from it where he placed another lingering kiss. Then, finally, his lips met yours on a fervish kiss.

Your hands gripped his biceps to steady yourself, feelings your legs wobble. Tim presses his hips into yours, pushing you further against the wall. You moaned at the friction of your lower parts together, allowing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He tasted like the bitter scotch he was drinking earlier mixed with the lemon from your drink since you two had shared a few kisses at the bar stool before venturing to the bathroom, a more private place.

Tim slid his hands from the wall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin with such force that you were sure you would have a bruise there tomorrow. Just the thought of him leaving marks on your skin was enough to make the fire within you grow even more.

You pulled apart to catch your breath only for a few seconds before your lips were crashing against each other one more time. Your hands left his biceps, one sliding down his chest, felling the toned muscles, and the other went up to his hair, pulling at it, making him groan.

Tim’s lips left yours to trail kisses along your jawline and towards your neck. His hands slinging further down, stopping at your ass and squezing it while nibbling at your neck, his tongue smoothing the skin he bit and sucked at. You left breath moans at his actions.

One of his legs found their place between yours, spreading your legs apart while his hands went from your ass to your thighs, lifiting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, felling the bulge in his pants.

“Timmy.” You breathes out, pulling his hair out as his kisses kept getting lower and lower towards your cleavage

He pulled his face away from your skin, hands tightening its grip on your thighs. His lips were red and swollen from the kisses, his hair was everywhere and you were pretty sure you didn’t look any better.

“Fuck.” He cursed, pulling you a bit closer and groaning at the friction of your bodies together “We can’t do this here and not right now.”

“Why not?” You questioned, inching your face closer to his

You kissed his jaw, lightly biting at it and going lower to kiss his neck. Lips scratching at the soft skin there and a smile on your lips when he squeezed your ass in response.

Tim closed his eyes for a while, enjoining the sensation, but also trying to recollect his thoughts. He was really enjoining himself, but this wasn’t right.

“This isn’t right, pretty bird.” He grunted in response “I don’t want our first night together to be in a bathroom at bar while we are drunk.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyeing proudly the bruise forming on his neck.

“We already slept with each other before, the previous night was one of them. We cuddled a lot.”

Tim sighted “You know I don’t mean sleep in the sleeping way.”

You licked your lips, a smirk curling on your lips.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want us to fuck in the bathroom while we are drunk?” You slid your hands over his shoulders, tralling a finger over his chest “But I want to, Timmy. I want you so bad.”

To prove a point you grinded your hips against his. He sucked in a breath, hands gripping your hips to keep you from moving.

“You are intoxicated, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want the first time we have sex together to be while we are drunk and can’t think straight.” He sighted at your pouting face “If you really want to, we can come back some other day.”

Your smiled wide at his words.

“Can we come back some other day, then? So you will fuck me senseless against the wall?”

Tim took a deep breath to contain himself. Who knew you were such a horny drunk?

“Anything you want, pretty bird.” He replied, pecking your lips “Let’s get you home.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Your groan was the first noise to fill the room at three o’clock in the afternoon. You sat in bed, rubbing a hand over your eyes and taking in your surroundings. You were at an unknown place, only wearing an oversized shirt and you would’ve freaked out if you haven’t seen the man beside you.

“Hey.” Tim said, his hair was falling down his eyes, and he looked like he had just woken up too “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” You groaned, flopping down on bed, but this time a bit closer to him, seeking his warmth “Where are we?”

He chuckled, running his hand trough your disheveled hair. You are pretty sure you look like a mess, your makeup is probably smudged, your hair all over the place. God, you can’t believe Tim is seeing you like this.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to see Oliver last night so I brought you to one of my safe houses.”

You nodded your head, but regretted the action immediately as it felt like your brain was being squeezed.

“I’m going to get you some coffee, food and an aspirin.” Tim said as he watched your grimace

“No, don’t leave, you’re warm.” You whined

He chuckled again, kissing your hair softly as he slid off the bed.

“I’ll be right back, love.”

You allowed him to go after the petname. Your heart fluttered at the words, love and pretty bird, you could get used to hearing him call you that. It sounds so good when he says it.

A few minutes later Tim showed up with a tray in hand, placing it on the bed beside you and then sitting himself at the mattress. You took the painkiller and gladly drank the coffee the boy had made, and welcomed the waffles into your belly. God, you are so hungry.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You said in a soft tone, eyeing him quiet shyly “And I am sorry for last night being a horny drunk.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He smiled down at you before laughing quiet loudly “And please, don’t apologize for being a horny drunk when I was kind of being one too.”

You nudged your head on his shoulder to hide your laugh and blush.

“Ok, we are both horny drunks.” You said, enjoining this moment of peace with him

You know that once you are outside this apartment and out there in the world, you are going to have to face your brother and your mom and oh no. You are meeting Talia and Nissa tonight. Fuck, what did you have in mind? What does Dinah always tell you? Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgements and that is exactly what you did last night.

“I know you are probably tired of this by now, but... I’m going to have to ask you to do something for me.”

“Sure, pretty bird, anything you want.”

You smiled a bit.

“I need you to get me some clothes from the manor, I can’t see Oliver before I do what I planned to do.”

Tim frowned, looking down at you for an explanation, but you had your eyes closed and most of your face hidden by his chest. He sighed, running his fingers trough your hair.

“What are you going to do?” He asked

“I’m going to meet up with Talia and Nissa tonight.” Your voice sounded muffled and you didn’t dare to look at his face, still keeping your eyes closed

Tim sat up straight, his hands pulling you away from him - even if honestly all he wanted was to keep you there by his side while you two cuddled. He frowned down at you.

“What do you mean you are meeting Talia and Nissa tonight?” He asked you seriously

In all the time you’ve met Tim, you’ve never seen him this serious. Of course, you’ve seen him serious but in a concentrated way as he was working on a case, or getting ready for patrol, and even then he would still look at you softly. Right now, he is giving you his batglare, and boy, doesn’t that make you want to make you as small as a ball.

You sighted before realizing it was best to just tell him the whole truth. So you did, you told him a bit more about the Ninth Circle, mostly just remembering him what you told him the night of the Casino slaughter. Then you told him about what Oliver found and that your mom is alive.

“I need to know if it’s true, Timmy.” Your voice wasn’t above a whisper “I need to know if I am right by being against Oliver on this one, I can’t let him treat her like a criminal. It’s my mom.”

He nodded his head, extending his arms until you were back in his embrace. Head against his chest, glad to have him by your side during this bad time.

“I know, if it was my mom I would do the same thing.” He sighted “Do you want me to go with you?”

You shook your head “Something tells me she won’t talk with you there. But I will tell you everything later.”

The wind was cold during the night again, but this time you were wearing a warmer jacket. Tim had picked up some of your clothes from your bedroom at the manor and brought them to his safe house where you showered and changed into it.

You were standing at the rooftop of the old Theater. Crime Alley really was as horrible as everyone said it was. This was your first time being at that place and it was enough to give you chills, and you knew pretty well it wasn’t from the cold.

You had allowed Tim to take you there, but made him leave immediately and promise you that he wasn’t going to be around. After some persuasion he was back at his normal route of patrol with a promise of a call once it was all done. You could handle Talia and Nissa if it was necessary.

A bow and arrows was attached to your back just in case.

“When my sister told me you wanted to meet, I honestly thought you lost it.” Talia’s voice cut trough the night

You looked over your shoulder before turning around. Talia stood there with her hands on her back, bow and arrow and a sword with her.

“Thank you for showing up.” You said, nodding your head towards her “Nissa didn’t want to come?”

“I told her to stay behind on this one, it appears this is a matter between us only.”

You brifily smiled at her. You did not hate the woman despite everything she had done, and right now you needed her to get the answers you want, so being rude was not an option.

“I have some questions for you.” You spoke up, eyeing her closely just to make sure she wasn’t going to attack you before you were ready for it

“Let’s see if I can and will be willing to answer them.” Talia smirked

You took a deep breath, not only to calm yourself down and not give into her, but also to prepare yourself for questioning her what you were about to.

“When Malcom and Oliver fought, three years ago, I was held as the prize. Why did your father accept that?”

Talia rolled her eyes “After all those years and you want to know now?”

When you didn’t answer she started laughing.

“Oh my, oh my. Do you and your brother finally learned the truth? About dead or not so dead mom?”

You set your jaw to keep yourself from saying something you’d regret later. Not really regret because it would feel grate to curse her in her face, but that would spark a fight and most likely you wouldn’t get the answers you needed.

“Yes. Now tell me what you know, Talia, before I loose my patience.”

That only made the woman’s smile winden.

“I would like to see if you still remember all of your training.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. Reaching out behind you, you pulled out an arrow and your bow. Aiming at the building, you fired it, the arrow zipped past her, scratching her face and embedding itself at the wall.

“You missed.” She said, wiping away the blood that was running down her cheek

“No, I didn’t.”

Talia turned around, watching where you arrow had hit. Right in the center of where a person’s heart would be on an old billboard picture of a man, announcing some show at the Theater.

“Drama runs in the family.” She said under her breath before taking a step closer to you “Alright then, shall we sit?”

You watched as she took a sit at the railing of the building. You stood in front of her, not letting your defenses down, if she was to attack you, you’d be ready.

“As you might have guessed, you bing the prize of the fight wasn’t Merly’s idea and neither was mine or my father’s.” Talia began, you nodded your head “A few months prior to the fight, we got a massage from the Ninth Circle calling us for a meeting. Obviously, we were a bit confused as to how Moira Queen was alive, but this one you should ask her yourself. To sum it all up, your mother proposed the fight and for you to join the League where we would train until you were the best assassin you could be. Then, you were to join her and Ninth Circle so you two would be reunited and they would have a perfect and loyal assassin by their sides.”

You frowned. “And why would your father take the deal?”

She smirked “You know my father wanted to train your brother, but he couldn’t because he already had a formed opinion. But train a teenager who is still forming a personality, perfect oportunity. Although I thought it was a waste of time, you and Oliver are too much alike.”

“Then why did you agree to this idea? You seemed to like pretty much hurting me during around practices together?” You asked, trying not to yell "Why are you willing to tell me everything now?"

Talia’s shoulders tensed and she stood up from her stop at the railing.

“I am a mother myself, Y/n.���

You nodded, understanding where her help came from. Apparently, she doesn’t have the best of relations with Damian.

“And where does Oliver fit into all of this?” You asked, changing the subject and hoping you didn’t upset her

“I think this is enough of an interrogation, I already helped you more than I honestly should.”

She stepped up the ralling of the building, looking over her shoulder to stare at you in the eye. She looked dead serious.

“Don’t come looking for me again, next time I won’t be so friendly. Tell my son I will be in town for one more day.”

And with that Talia was gone.

[ashengro-tto]

hello! hope it's okay to ask for more than one? otherwise you can answer the ones you'd prefer to! ♥️♠️🦑👑🐱

Hi! It is more than okay to ask for more than one hehe

[ the rest are under the cut ]

[ also I’m bad at summarizing my thoughts so if the jumps between points feel weird, that’s why ]

[ ALSO also I’m sorry this took so long to be finished (lol) ]

Marlowe & Ace ♥️

Best Friend / Headache #1

Their first meeting was not the best (yes, it’s the same as our canon first meeting with Ace)

Marlowe felt very offended that he would even think of saying stuff like that to their face. “Ignorant”? “Go back to kindergarten”? They don’t like being looked down on, especially when it comes to things like intellect

...Okay, maybe those insults were directed primarily at Grim, but Marlowe felt hurt too!

They’ve had to deal with a great number of terrible personalities in the past, and so, they were able to keep their cool. Grim, however...well, you know how it goes

After a while though, his asshole-ness simply turned into annoying-ness, and Marlowe was able to just brush it off as Typical Ace Behavior

When Ace isn’t being a dick, they get along great! Marlowe’s pretty playful, and a bit of a trickster as well, so the two like to play harmless pranks on the other first years from time to time

And by other first years I mean mostly Deuce. Marlowe apologizes afterwards. Ace does not

Ace likes to tease Marlowe about how badly they’re adjusting to NRC school life (and also their abysmal history and PE grades) but it’s okay because they tease him back about how they’re better at alchemy than him

Hanging out with a guy like Ace who just screams Typical Teenage Boy feels really refreshing to Marlowe

Ace asks a lot of questions, partially because he’s genuinely curious about where Marlowe’s from, but mostly because they told him not to and he knows it annoys them. Marlowe knows he’s doing it to be annoying, so it’s more bearable

Marlowe admires Ace’s bravery (though some might call it recklessness). It was during chapter one, when he stood up to Riddle, that they really felt that “oh, this guy is really cool” feeling. Ace’s willingness to stand up for what he believes in inspires Marlowe to do the same

Marlowe & Deuce ♠️

Best Friend / Headache #2

Their first meeting was also the same as the one in-game

After Deuce summoned the cauldron and dropped it on Ace’s head, Marlowe actually screamed “WHAT THE FUCK” out loud. They don’t swear often, which goes to show how shocked they were

They gave him a very stern lecture about how dangerous that was, how he could have shattered Ace’s skull, how other people could have been injured as well...Deuce felt like he was being scolded by his mother

Don’t even get them started on the heart attack they had when Deuce flung Ace onto the chandelier

After getting to know him a bit better, Marlowe starts liking him a lot more

They adore his decision to leave his delinquent past behind! Marlowe greatly values learning and education, so they’re willing to support him every step of the way

Study buddies!

Their study sessions often turn into tutoring sessions, though, with Marlowe having to explain the lesson to him, but they don’t mind. They’re very patient, and also good at simplifying terms without taking away from their meaning, so Deuce learns pretty quickly with them

They feel a small sense of pride whenever he comes to them showing off his test scores (still low, but certainly an improvement)

The headache part mostly comes from when his Bad Boy Mode activates

Marlowe doesn’t like violence. They recognize that progress isn’t linear, and of course Deuce is going to...go back to the way he was at times, but they urge him to keep his calm and remember that “violence is never the solution”

Ohh, Marlowe was so disappointed when they found out he, Ace, and Grim went to Azul in chapter three. They didn’t even need to scold the three of them, their eyes said it all

Deuce felt the guiltiest, since Marlowe was always the one telling him not to cut corners. He felt extra guilty knowing how much Marlowe hated Azul. They take so much time out of their schedule to help him study, and he goes and asks for help from the one they hate most...!

What Marlowe loves most about Deuce is his willingness to learn and change. He was able to realize that his past actions were hurting his mother, and grew as a person because of it. He’s still growing, and learning to be someone his mother can be proud of, which is something Marlowe greatly respects and admires

Marlowe & Azul 🦑

Answered here!

Marlowe & Vil 👑

They’re actually pretty close!

They’re in the same club, so they interact quite frequently

Vil originally wanted them to try acting in one of the films he was in the process of making. He handed them the script, gave them some props, and the cameras started rolling

Marlowe’s attempts at acting were not good. The delivery of the lines was stilted, their movements stiff. Multiple times they had accidentally dropped the props. They had no clue why they did so terribly, they’re usually good at this kind of stuff. Maybe it was because there were cameras on them?

Vil eventually moved them to the costume department, just so they could contribute even a little bit

Marlowe’s very interested in magical pharmaceuticals. They love learning about how magic intertwines with medicine, and Vil is more than happy to teach them

Vil often scolds Marlowe for not following the skincare routine he’s provided for them, but Marlowe’s not used to such fancy products and strict routines...they really can’t keep up, no matter how hard they try

There’s a lot he nags them for, actually. Their fashion sense (he’s the one who styled their uniform), their diet (it’s not their fault Crowley doesn’t give them enough money for good food), and their sleeping habits (they’re not used to sleeping early, or sleeping a lot) just to name a few

Marlowe likes a lot of things about Vil. He’s hardworking and confident, but most importantly, he helps the people around him

Vil pushes people to work hard so they can reach their full potential and go from a dirty potato to a shining red apple. He isn’t just concerned with his own self-improvement, but the growth and development of others as well. Even if others don’t put in the effort, he still keeps pushing because he never gives up

Marlowe originally thought he’d be a selfish, crab-mentality kind of person, so finding out that he actually wants to see others around him prosper was a surprise, but a welcomed one nonetheless

What they dislike is his method of doing so. Marlowe is very much a kind, gentle person who believes real change shouldn’t come from brute force. They always feel a little annoyed when he acts so harsh towards others

Marlowe & Grim 🐱

Best Friend / Headache SUPREME (yes, he surpasses numbers)

Marlowe called him a “disease-ridden raccoon” when they first saw him, which Grim did not take kindly to

Imagine the Prologue, but all the player choices have an “insult Grim” option

When they found out that they would have to be two halves of one student in order to attend NRC, Marlowe groaned internally. They did not like the little troublemaking furball one bit

All he did was bring misfortune! Their first NRC experience could have gone a lot smoother if he hadn’t caused so much trouble! Disturbing the entrance ceremony, burning an important statue, the chandelier fiasco...randomly waking up in a new world was stressful enough, all that just made things even worse

Honestly, their first few weeks together were terrible. It was all bickering, arguing, snide comments...the ghosts in Ramshackle seriously considered relocating

As time went on, however, the two slowly grew on each other

Marlowe is Grim’s henchman! They buy him food, help him study, and scratch that one part behind his ears to help him fall asleep (which he totally doesn’t like, absolutely not)

Grim is Marlowe’s familiar! He protects them from danger, helps clean around the dorm (if bribed with enough tuna), and looks so cute when he’s sprawled out snoring on the makeshift cat bed they made him

Eventually the arguments turned into playful banter. Marlowe would nag him for not doing his homework, Grim would complain about it, then Marlowe would nag him for complaining, so on so forth

What Marlowe appreciates most about Grim is...his company. He was the first one they met in this strange new world. They both have no place to call home, no family to call their own. All they have is each other, so Marlowe’s really thankful for his company, even if he can be a little annoying at times

Marlowe would never admit it, but they’ve grown so attached to the little monster. They can’t imagine life in Twisted Wonderland without him...but don’t tell him they think that! He’ll never shut up about it!

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 3: Rookie Hazing?

(Lyn)

My breathing fell into my familiar breathing pattern as I jogged through the town. The early morning sun was peeking through the clouds, trying to be seen. My music was blasting through my earbuds as I turned to go through the walking trail this morning.

Today was the first day of actual classes and practices. Me and a few of the others already have been to the pool a bunch this week, but this is when shit got real. After the disappointing loss to Turner University at last year’s AUS, Coach Jacob and team really wanted to get the title this year. It was one thing to lose, it was another thing all together to lose by 1 fucking point. Ugh, even just thinking about it pissed me off. Turner is a good school, don’t get me wrong. But man, we worked our assess off last year.

I passed by an older couple going out for their usual morning walk. I waved to them as I always do, earning a smile in return. I liked the coziness of this small town. Being able to see the same people every morning doing their routine as I did was relaxing and brought a sense of calm to my otherwise chaotic life.

I sprinted the final couple of kilometers home, slowing down as I approached the track around the football field. Loryn, Maddie, and Andrew where already there, chatting as they stretched for their early morning workout.

Loryn smiled when she saw me coming and tossed me my water bottle. I pulled out my music and took a huge swig from it. “Thanks, I really needed that,” I said. I lifted the end of my shirt and wiped the sweat and water off my face.

“No problem-o,” she responded. “How was your run?”

“Same as usual,” I said as I take another drink.

Andrew walked over and gave me a huge hug. “Ready for the season, Lyn?”

I nodded into his shoulder, holding onto his shirt. Andrew was the captain of the Men’s team, and he was like an older brother to me. This was his last year on the team, and I really wanted to win the championship for him and the other 4th years. They put so much into this program, and just one win would be an awesome reward for them.

“Please don’t cry, or I might start too,” he mumbled.

“Not crying,” I pulled away, grinning at him. “I’m just thinking of how lame the team’s gonna be once you finally retire from it. Are they gonna make Will the captain next year, because like, yeesh.”

This earned a laugh from Andrew. “Well, I frigging hope not. Y’all better vote for Oliver, or Thom. If Will gets the captain position next year, you’re all doomed.”

“Fuck me with a rusty screw if Will gets it,” said Maddie bitterly. “The only thing bigger than his ego is his Hummer. I swear, I will never get over his parents airlifting that thing across the fucking country.”

It’s not like we hated Will or anything, he just was a huge pain in the ass. Both his parents are doctors, and he makes a point of letting you know how much money he has. During his first year here, apparently, his parents had his Hummer helicoptered across the country so he could have it here. Not sure why he didn’t drive the damned thing instead, but the rich do very extreme and extravagant things to prove their wealth. Maddie is a 3rd year like Will, so she’s been putting up with his Will-ness longer than Loryn or I.

We did our usual morning workout routine, just to get used to the rhythm again. Medicine ball tosses to each other with an added squat. After that, 2 sets of 20 jackknifes, 2 sets of 25 crunches, and 2 sets of 1 minute plank. We did our wheelbarrow run across the football field, giggling like fools as we did. Andrew and Maddie beat me and Loryn by a fingertip. Loryn jokingly apologized for being too short, a running joke on the team.

After that, we headed to food hall. Loryn liked to make fun of me for calling it that, since it was technically called meal hall, but that’s where I get all my food, not just meals. Hence, food hall. Still, she immediately started teasing me as we got near it.

The hall was abuzz with all the new frosh and returning students talking about their classes. It was nice to see this place so lively after being essentially dead for the week. I could already hear people talking about going to First Class Bash, the big first party of the year. I never really went to those often, parties that is, since the team had a drinking ban in place as soon as the season started. Maybe if some of the guys on the team wanted to go I would, but I was just as happy to stay in with the goofballs and have our own get together.

Oh shit, speaking of. The rookie party was this weekend, actually. It almost slipped my mind. Today was their official first day. It may sound weird, but Coach Jacob liked having them come for their own practice to get used to each other and the facilities first. That way, if they don’t feel like sticking around, there’s none of that awkward shame of seeing your ex-teammates on campus. Not that anyone actually gave a shit.

I sat down next to Matt and Kerry, two members of the team. They were nearly identical twins, but with different body builds since they swam different strokes. Matt was bulkier in his shoulders and trunk cuz he swam butterfly like I did, while Kerry was leaner but a bit bowlegged from swimming breaststroke for so many years. Kerry was letting her hair grow out after shaving it last year, and it was tied up in this stupidly adorable tiny ponytail, while Matt had shaved his hair into practical buzzcut. Kerry leaned over once I was settled and pointed.

“Did you see?”

“Did I see what?” I asked as I shoved the whole fried egg into my mouth.

“Derek is sitting with Poppy.”

I rolled my eyes. Derek Freeman was one of my exes from last year. Lyn from first year got a little crazy when it came to dating, and I ended up going through 6 different people before finally calling it quits. Derek was one of them, but he was by far the worse. He got super possessive and couldn’t understand why I dumped his creepy ass. He always knew my schedule and followed me everywhere. He would wait for me outside the pool and walk back to my res with me, which would have been super sweet if he didn’t ask to come inside every single time. Even after we broke up, he still followed me places. Eventually he got the message once I started dating Willa Hoffman, but man was he annoying.

Then there was Poppy. There was nothing wrong with her, per se. We just were partners on a project last year and she nearly cost me getting an A+ in Intro to Sociology, much to my annoyance. I cared a lot, maybe a little bit too much, about my grades. So, yeah, there’s nothing that really pisses me off more when you get stuck with a shit partner for a project.

“Honestly, Ker, I don’t care,” I said. “Hell, they deserve each other IMO.”

Kerry shrugged as she got back into her seat properly, finally letting Matt get back to eating. We ate in comfortable silence before Matt spoke up.

“Gunner is on probation.”

I dropped my fork in confusion. Even Kerry looked confused. “What do you mean, Matt?” I asked, leaning against the table as I did, locking eyes with him.

He sighed and ran a hand over his head. “Okay, don’t tell anyone because I’m not supposed to know, but Gunner was caught doing drugs this summer. Like, coke. Anyway, Jacob heard about it and helped him through rehab and stuff, but the dean put him on probation until his grades and attitude prove that he actually got clean.”

“Shiiiiiiit,” I pushed my tray away. Leo Gunner was the best sprinter on the team, leading the Men’s team to having great scores in the relay last year. If he wasn’t allowed to swim this season, we might be in serious trouble. There was no one as fast as him. The next best would be Parker, and even then, he wasn’t near Gunner’s level.

“Oh, that’s awful,” said Kerry, putting her hand over her mouth.

Matt nodded. “Yeah, it’s shit for sure. I talked to him this morning and apparently, he’s allowed to practice, but he might not be allowed to sign up for the meets. I think Jacob might bring it up to Andrew and Emma today, but he might not let the rest of the team know just yet.”

The information sat heavy in my stomach. I walked all the way to my class with my mind racing, wondering if there was any way we could fight this decision. All conclusions came to a resounding no. The university was pretty strict about athletes using illegal substances. They only thing that probably saved his ass was that it happened this summer.

I took my usual spot near the front, waiting for the rest of the students to fill in. This was a second-year history course, and I really wanted to be psyched for it, considering history was my favourite subject, but it was hard when I was worrying about things out of my control.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked over and nearly groaned when I saw it was Will. I nodded, but he was already taking the seat anyway. I hated sitting next to Will, he just sat on Instagram the whole time, or TikTok. Fuck my life right now.

He reached over and tugged on my ear. “Why the long face, Lyn?”

I batted his hand away. He knew I was self-conscious of how big my ears were, and he liked to pick at that at any opportunity. “No long face here, Will.” I forced a grin onto my face before turning my attention back to my desk.

“Whatever you say.”

Ugh, def getting a new seat on Thursday. I can’t deal sitting next to him and dealing with his antics at practice too. There was only so much abuse one gal could take for the day.

XXX

Thank God it was Friday!

I managed my schedule perfectly, so I had no classes on Friday. It made the other days more miserable for sure, but having a three-day weekend every week? Exactly what I needed to stay on top of things this year. Just practice in the afternoon, and I was free to enjoy myself. The rookie party was tomorrow, and they were a good batch. Loryn’s younger sister Robin joined the team this year, which was super exciting for her.

I got to enjoy breakfast without having to rush it, plus no homework was assigned this week. Today was a nice one, and I was looking forward to just being able to chill and enjoy it. As I left, I happened to notice that Ally was leaving the food hall. Grinning, I raced over to where she was.

“Hey, Ally!” I fell into step beside her.

“Lyn!” Ally looked up at me, a smile breaking out. She had her hair in this half up pinned style, it looked really good on her. Also, she was wearing different glasses today. She usually wore some rectangle ones, but these ones were like a half moon shape.

“How’s your first week, frosh?” I asked.

“Well, after the disaster that was the bookstore incident…” she looked down, thinking about something before shaking her head. “It’s been lovely. I think once I get into a nice routine, I won’t feel as anxious.”

I was curious about the whole bookstore thing, but I respected that she clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it openly with me. Fair enough, we only just met last week, and I barely have seen her since.

“Hey, well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so far! Is it cool if I walk with you until your next class? I’m free.”

“Oh,” she smiled shyly at me, “that would be really nice, actually.”

I smiled back. We chatted about her classes all the way to Bennet, where her class was. I leaned against the wall as she finished explaining something about her drama class. That was a class I took in first year, but it sounds like she has Professor Kinkly, whereas I had Professor Statton. Kinkly was more by the book, Statton was know as the campus kook. I had a feeling Ally was gonna like Kinkly more.

“I guess I should head in, huh?”

“I guess you should. But hey,” I said, “we should totally hang this weekend, you know? Whatcha doing tomorrow?”

Ally looked contemplative before shaking her head. “Nothing, I think.”

“Perfect! Let’s grab a bite to eat, and you can finish telling me all about your week.”

“O-okay, sounds great!”

Ally wished me a goodbye and dashed inside, as to not be late for class. I watched her go before snorting under my breath. I liked her, she was smart and funny. It would be nice to have someone as a friend outside the team. Guess it was just my lucky day when she approached that table I forced Loryn to help me set up.  

Feeling great, I practically skipped all the way back to my res.

XXX

The smell of chlorine was something that was never going to get old. It calmed me when nothing else could. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but the pool is my second home. Didn’t matter how I felt at home or school or whatever, I could come to a pool and swim those thoughts and troubles away.

We finished with our pre-practice routines, and I jumped into the pool, shivering a little as the cold water enveloped my body. Right away everything felt amazing. Reach, pull, reach, pull. The easy lazy rhythm of the warmup let my thoughts drift away. It was nearing the end of the warmup when I caught Andrew’s eye underwater during my turn, and we ended up racing our last 25 meters. He beat me and we high fived as I hung onto the lane rope.

Coach Jacob laughed as the others finished their warmups. He was a retired swimmer himself and did things to keep himself in shape. He had one of those kind faces that really made you feel welcomed. Sure, he could be a hard ass, but he just really wanted win, like we all did.

He read practice off the board for us, and we did as was instructed. In in a blink of an eye, practice was over, and we were all hauling our asses out of the pool. Practice wasn’t too hard today, but since it’s been a while since any of us had structure like that, we all felt the ache of the week catching up with us finally.

“Okay, gather ‘round!” Coach Jacob called out. We all headed towards the bench and took seats. Loryn sat next to me and we cuddled, trying to not freeze as we listened to what he had to say.

“So, this is the last year for some of us,” he indicated the 4th years with a nod, “and a new beginning for others,” a nod to the 1st years. “However, the goal is the same. We wanna be number one at AUS’s this year. We wanna send people to CIS’s this year. We wanna kick Turner’s stupid butt all over the pool deck. We start morning practice next week, 5:30 sharp, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Gym time is 6:00 on Tuesday and Thursday. We have our usual afternoon practice at 4:30 every day. If you can’t make practice, the reason better be fucking good. Rookies, never be afraid to ask questions. These guys are your family while you’re here, and like family, sometimes we don’t always get along. But try your best to stay pleasant with the others. Lastly, welcome to the Mount Seamus Wolves!” he finished with a huge grin. We clapped and headed into the locker rooms, where a hot shower was calling my name.

“Man, I am looking forward to the weekend!” Loryn said with a huge stretch as we grabbed our shampoo and conditioner.

“Me too,” I said with a grin. “I already made plans.”

“Oh my God, shut up! Who with?”

“That cute frosh from last week.”

Loryn scrunched up her face in thought. “Gabriel or the brunette you showed around?”

I laughed, hitting her playfully with my towel. “Dude, you’re the only one who thinks Gabe is cute, you know?”

“Not true! I know Jackie does too!”

“Damn right I do!” Jackie said, walking by us with a laugh.

We all laughed as we turned the water on. It felt great to take a hot shower after practice. We were gossiping about people on campus when I noticed something strange.

“Emma, are you okay?”

Emma, the captain for the Women’s team, looked over. “Huh, why you ask?”

I blinked. “Because you’re covered in…blood?”

She looked up and shrieked. Sure enough, something red and gooey was coming from the shower head. Actually, it was coming from all the showers! We all screamed and ran out, not even bothering to turn them off.

“What the actual fuck?” Emma was shaking with either anger or fear, wasn’t sure which it was. “Did someone think it would be funny to prank the rookies or something?” She whipped around to glare at all of us.

When no one fessed up, she growled in annoyance. “Okay, maybe one of the guys thought it would funny? Whoever did this, it’s seriously fucked up. Getting sprayed with fake blood is not how I wanted to end my Friday night!”

“Uh, not to be that person, Emma,” I said hesitantly, “but if it was fake blood…wouldn’t it have stopped by now?” I pointed over to the running showers, where a steady stream of red was still coming out.

Emma’s face paled. She looked at her hands, where the blood was and sniffed it. “Oh my God…it smells like copper.”

That’s when Jackie threw up all over the floor and Kerry burst into tears.

XXX

I was in my room, curled up under all the blankets I could possibly be curled under. We texted the boys after, to see if something similar happened to them. When Andrew and Matt both responded no, we got even more freaked out. We ended up calling campus security for them to see if there was something they could do about it. They said they would look into and escorted us back to our residences. I took such a scalding hot shower that I was still pink from it, but I still didn’t feel clean.

The group chat was blowing up with questions. The poor rookies were understandably upset. They thought someone was trying to haze them, but that wasn’t the case at all. Hazing wasn’t something we did anymore. They didn’t do it in my first year, and Emma said that her class was the last one that got hazed.

I didn’t have the energy to be dealing with this, so I muted the chat for the time being. Nura was sitting on her bed, her eyes on her computer screen but I could see her looking at me from time to time. I mean, I would be too. If Nura came back and told me that she just ended up taking a blood shower, I would be fucking concerned too.

I rolled over and tugged at my ear. It was habit of mine when I was anxious about something, and I was definitely anxious about this. If it turned out to be a stupid prank from one of the other teams, that would be one thing. But if it wasn’t…then what did it mean?

I had this crazy thought, pulling my phone up to my face. I wanted to see if it happened any time else. I did a quick Google search, and found out that this wasn’t the first time that something like this happened at this school. It was in 1968, and in 1995, and again in 2007. Okay, that was interesting.

Okay, so unless someone was dumping bodies into a water reservoir that only affected the women’s locker room, something freaky was going on. I’m not that big into that spiritual mumbo jumbo, but I’m not going to deny that this was more than a coincidence. However, it was history, something I specialized in. If I could trace back and see if there were any more connections, maybe I can establish a pattern.

That was a problem for Lyn of tomorrow, however. I was thoroughly exhausted after tonight’s events. I bookmarked the page on my phone, just so I wouldn’t forget. I was going to need my laptop for this.

I just hoped I could find something that can explain what the hell happened.

[calpalirwin]

Christmas Firsts

Summary: A tale of Christmas first with our favorite blended family. Merry fuckin’ Christmas, folks!

Word Count: 3.5 k

And away, and away we go!

__

~2018~

“How do we want to spend Christmas this year?” Finn asked one night in early December after Mason had been put to bed.

She shrugged. “Same way we always have? Quiet morning here, then spend the day with Mom.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want to do, we can do that. Do you want me to get us a small tree to put up and decorate?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” she smiled over at him, then frowned. “Wait… Why are you asking me what we want to do?”

“It’s Mase’s first Christmas. I know things are the way they are with your family. But if you wanted to see them, or for them to see Mase, then I’ll support that. You know I will, Ness. But I figured we should talk about it, rather than just assume that we would do what we’ve done the last few years.”

“You,” she said, her smile back in full force as she kissed him, “are fuckin’ amazing. And I guess we should probably try Christmas Eve dinner with my family at least. Not actual Christmas though. I like what we have already.”

“Okay, babe. We’ll do that then.”

“Oh! Do you think on Christmas Eve after dinner we can drive around and see the lights? Oh, Mase would love that!”

“Of course, baby.”

So the next weekend, they helped Carol pick a tree, and picked a small one out for themselves. Christmas had always been the couple’s favorite holiday, and getting to watch their son’s eyes light up with excitement at all the colors decorating the trees only added to their joy.

On Christmas Eve, they made the trek over to Vanessa’s parents, Vanessa’s leg bouncing the entire time. “If you’re this stressed, I can just keep driving. We can show Mase the lights, and then we can go home.”

“No…. No… I told them we would come. No… I’m fine, love.”

His hand reached across the seats to rest flatly on her thigh, doing very little to keep her still. “We don’t owe them anything, Ness.”

“No, I know that. But I-”

“I know,” he nodded sadly. He knew Vanessa would keep trying to fix her relationship with her family until the world stopped turning. And he would help pick up the pieces every time they failed her. 

So he bit his tongue, and smiled politely as he greeted her family. And he sat there with the same tight lipped smile as he listened to Vanessa try and catch her parents on the things she’d been up to since they last saw each other. And his hand squeezed Vanessa’s as her sister interrupted each tale with the same tale that was somehow better. And when Vanessa’s chair scraped back harshly, tears brimming in her eyes, he grabbed Mason, muttered a quick thanks, and quickly followed her out the front door. And he held her to him as her tears stained the collar of his shirt. “Shh,” he soothed, a hand running up and down her back. “C’mon, we’ll get some hot chocolate and we’ll go see the lights. And we’ll get our boy ready for bed, and we’ll wake up tomorrow, and it’ll be Christmas, and everything will be okay.”

“Why do I keep bothering, Finn? When will I finally learn?”

“Hey, look at me. None of this is your fault. Not one bit of it. You have such an incredible heart. And I am so fuckin’ proud of you for wanting to keep trying with them. And I’m not going to tell you what the right thing to do here is. If you want to keep trying with them, I will support you every time. And if you want to stop trying with them, I’ll support that too. But you have to decide that for yourself, Ness.”

“It’s not fair…”

“I know, baby, I know.”

The tears dried, and her smile returned slowly as they walked around their town, sipping their hot chocolates, and watching Mason’s wide eyes droop lower and lower until he finally dozed off on Finn’s shoulder. And Vanessa let the better part of Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day spent with her little family override a bad dinner.

~2020~

It was the Saturday before Christmas as they sat around the dinner table in the bigger apartment, trying to figure out just how they were going to spend the holiday. Things were tense as Finn and Vanessa were still at odds about what the living arrangements would look like once the baby was born, but they were tabling that argument for after the holidays had passed. “So, how do you want to do this, Finn?” Vanessa asked. “I know we usually go to my parents and try to stomach as much Christmas Eve as we can. But I’m not expecting you to suffer through that with me considering… So, do you just want to take Mason around to see the lights on your own? And then we can both be here in the morning, do our small thing, then go to Mom’s?”

“I’m not gonna take Mase to see the lights without you, Ness. I’m not gonna say no to skipping dinner with your parents. But take Mase with you. And we’ll meet up at like 7 to go around and see everything? Then I’ll help with bedtime and crash on the couch if that’s alright. So that way I’m here when he wakes up.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that works.”

“And Ash, you’re more than welcome to join whatever parts you want. My mom’s bugging to meet you actually.”

“Yeah, love, what are you doing for the holiday?”

Ashton shrugged. “Normally I’m finishing tour at this point, and then flying home. But because of covid and everything… I dunno. I guess I’m here this time. Um, so yeah. Love to meet your parents, baby.”

“No, you don’t,” both Finn and Vanessa told him.

Ashton looked at them in confusion. “Uh… is there something about your family I should know?”

“Finn and his mom are my family. They have been for a while. Because my actual family… well…”

“There’s a reason we try to limit contact with them, “ Finn said, giving the polite answer. “We try to give them the benefit of seeing them around the holidays. But, well… go to dinner and you’ll see what we mean.”

“Lovely…”

Ashton got an exclusive insider look to the Parker family’s… eccentric behavior as he accompanied Vanessa to Christmas Eve dinner with Mason. “You must be the new boyfriend,” Mr. Parker greeted.

“Yes, sir,” Ashton told him, shaking his hand. “I’m Ashton. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Finn won’t be joining us?” Mr. Parker asked his daughter.

“No, Dad. We’ve been over this, Finn and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Mmm, yes… and the new boyfriend is a drummer. How delightful.” He turned on his heel to walk to the dining room, leaving Ashton and Vanessa standing there in the entrance to the home.

Ashton’s jaw ticked slightly. “Wow.”

“I told you,” Vanessa warned him.

“And the rest of your family?”

“Just as bad if not worse.”

“Awesome… Let me know when you wanna bail.”

“Usually before dessert.”

“Awesome…”

Ashton and Vanessa endured the awkward dinner, of Vanessa’s sister, Erica, dominating the conversation about how well her and her husband were doing, with their young son only a few months younger than Mason talking up a small storm. But the breaking point was when Mason got Ashton’s attention to ask for another bread roll. “Papa,” Mason said, diverting all the attention to him as he pointed at the roll on Ashton’s plate.

“Oh, Nessie…” Mrs. Parker said mournfully.

Ashton’s jaw ticked again, but he kept quiet. Instead, he made a small show of tugging Mason into his lap, and letting the boy help put butter on the roll, which Mason then ate happily still in Ashton’s lap, much to the horror of the Parker family.

Vanessa however, wasn’t going to be as quiet. “I’m sorry?” she asked sweetly.

Mr. Parker just cleared his throat and shot Ashton and Mason a pointed glance while her mother hissed under her breath, “You really think that’s wise?”

“Mason chose that’s what he wants to call Ashton.”

“Yes, but Finn-”

“Is his dad, yes. Mason knows that. And he knows that Ashton is his papa. I’m failing to see what the problem here is, Mother.”

“You shouldn’t be encouraging Mason that way is all, Nessie,” Erica said sharply.

“In what way, Erica? Encouraging my son to speak? I thought you’d all be happy that Mason is talking now. You were all so terribly worried.”

“Yes, but we didn-” Erica sputtered.

“No, I’m fully aware of what you all mean,” Vanessa cut off. “And I’m sure if I had brought Finn along, you would have found a way to critique that as well. So, same time next year, yes?” Her chair scraped back, and Ashton wasted no time in following suit. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” Vanessa said with a bright smile before heading out of the dining room.

“I’d say it was nice to meet you all, but it really wasn’t. In fact, you’re kind of awful. But thank you for dinner,” Ashton told them before following Vanessa out. “You alright?” he asked her in a low whisper.

She sniffed back tears and cleared her throat. “I will be.”

“Is Finn’s mom nicer?”

“So much nicer. Love her. And she is really excited to meet you. Alright, Christmas Eve take 2! Lights!”

When they met up with Finn, he had a tray of hot chocolates in his hand. “How long did ya last?” he asked.

“Still can’t make it to dessert,” Vanessa reported, taking a deep drink from one of the cups. “Ah, that’s better. Ready?”

As Vanessa took Mason’s hand and they started walking up the street, Ashton hung back with Finn. “So we just let her family treat her like that?” Ashton asked.

Finn nodded sadly. “Yep. I fought for six years for her to cut ties. And we’ve made a lot of progress in my opinion. Most of her interactions with them are only through the phone. But yeah… for some reason she still can’t let Christmas Eve dinner go. And every year it ends the same.”

“And we just have to let her keep doing it, don’t we? Until she decides for herself enough is enough.”

“Yep.”

“Fuck…”

“Mhm,” Finn said. “But this is the cool part. You see her right now?”

Ashton’s gaze flickered ahead to where Vanessa was crouched next to Mason, her face lit up in the Christmas lights she was pointing out to her son. “15 minutes she was on the verge of tears. And now… wow,” Ashton breathed in amazement.

“Yeah. She’s badass that way. Give her a hot chocolate, show her some Christmas lights, and it’s nothing but a bad dinner.”

“Noted,” Ashton chuckled.

When Mason started to yawn, the family went home. And in the morning, Ashton and Vanessa were woken up by the boy crawling into bed with them. “Momma! Papa!”

“Morning, sweet boy,” Vanessa said sleepily. “Go check the living room for a surprise. Papa and I will be right there.”

And Mason rushed out of the room, Ashton chuckled. “Nice way to give us a few minutes.”

“Shh!” she said, pressing a finger to her lips. “Listen.”

“DADDY!” Mason squealed from the living room followed by Finn grunting for air.

Ashton laughed. “Good one.”

“Alright, Mase, where’s Momma and Papa?” Finn’s voice asked, growing louder as his footsteps sounded in the hallway.

“No!” Vanessa squealed, throwing the covers over her head. “You can’t use my trick on me, Finn! I already got the Mase alarm clock! I hit snooze! No!”

“Fair is fair!” Finn laughed before tossing Mason gently onto the bed. “Get ‘em Mase! Say ‘wake up, it’s Christmas!’”

“MOMMA! PAPA!”

It took a lot of laughter, and about an hour to get them all out the door and over to Carol’s for Christmas, where the woman already had breakfast ready. After greeting her son, grandson, and Vanessa, Carol turned to Ashton. “And you must be Ashton. Oh! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too, Carol.”

“Papa!” Mason told Carol, pointing up at Ashton.

“Oh, is this your papa, Mase?”

Mason nodded. “Papa.”

Carol somehow managed to smile even brighter. “That’s wonderful. Welcome to the family, Ashton. And Merry Christmas.”

~2021~

“Hey, Finn, can we talk about Christmas?” Vanessa asked.

Finn sighed, running his hands through his hair. “It’s Bailey’s first Christmas. So, no. I want to be there for it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Ash is going to Australia, and you wanted to take the kids with you. That’s what you were gonna ask, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Ness, but no. And no, we can’t compromise by saying that me and Mom will come with. It’s my first Christmas with Mia, too. I wanna be here. I wanna be home.”

“I was actually going to ask if it’s okay we do Christmas at mine and Ash’s. Because his family agreed to fly out here for the holiday because me and you already have our tradition that works.”

“Oh… Well… shit, yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Fuck. Sorry.”

Vanessa chuckled. “You really thought I was gonna ask to take the kids to Australia for Christmas? Are you insane?”

Finn laughed a little with her. “Alright, I said I was sorry. I should know better than to jump to conclusions. Christmas Eve? Hot chocolate? Lights? 7?”

“Yep! We’re having dinner first, if you and Mia wanna come.”

Finn sighed again. “Ness… I thought we were like really done with your family after Mase’s birthday.”

“Jumping to conclusions again, Finn. No, we’re having the guys over for dinner as like a band family thing. You guys are welcome to join us. But if you and Mia have plans… No biggie.”

“Nah, she doesn’t… her family’s kinda like yours. We’ll be there.”

“Great! Dinner’s at 6.”

After a Christmas Eve where Vanessa finally made it to dessert without getting so angry she saw red, and trapezing around the neighborhood to see the lights, she crawled into bed with Ashton, her cheeks sore from smiling. “Good day?” he asked with his own smile.

“The fuckin’ best. And tomorrow is gonna be just as amazing. I can’t wait to meet your family.”

“They can’t wait to meet you guys either. Fuck, tomorrow’s gonna be great.”

They awoke in the morning to Mason pouncing on their bed with a yelled, “Momma! Papa!”

“Morning, sweet boy,” Vanessa smiled groggily at her son. “C’mon, let’s go get Bailey.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, when Daddy gets here with Mimi and Nana, we’ll open presents.”

“Mimi, Nana?!”

“Yes, they’re coming too! C’mon!” she said, matching his excitement as she rolled out of bed.

“Papa!” Mason urged, tugging at Ashton’s hand.

“Hmm? Yeah? I’m up…” Ashton’s voice rasped, still heavy with sleep. “I’ll start breakfast,” he yawned.

Ashton was in the middle of doing just that, while Vanessa got Mason and Bailey set up at the table when the doorbell rang. “Daddy!” Mason screeched, climbing down from his chair and racing for the door. Only when Mason reached up to open the door, Finn wasn’t on the other side. “Momma!” he yelled for assistance.

“I’m right here, Ma- oh, hi!” Vanessa smiled, recognizing the two women and the young man on the porch as Ashton’s family. “I’m Vanessa. This is Mason. Please, come in. Ash, love!”

Ashton’s head peeked around from inside the kitchen, “I’m a little bu- MUM!” There was a clattering from inside the kitchen that could have been either Ashton turning off the stove, or Bailey knocking her bottle to the ground before Ashton was running through the house and crashing into his family. “You’re here!” he cried, his voice slightly muffled from the way he had buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. “God, wow…” he pulled back, a wide grin on his face, his eyes shining. “Uh… shit… Mum, Lauren, Harry, this is my girlfriend Nessa. Nessa, this is my family.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Anne said, pulling Vanessa in for a hug. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“I could say the same thing,” Vanessa laughed, giving Lauren and Harry a hug hello as well.

“Momma…” Mason whispered, his eyes wide as he peered up at all the adults around him.

“It’s okay, sweet boy,” Vanessa assured him. “This is Papa’s family.”

“Papa?” The single word held two very different questions when uttered by Anne and Mason.

“Yeah,” Ashton answered, picking up Mason and placing the boy on his hip. “That’s what he calls me. Mase, this is my Momma. And my brother and sister. Can you say hi?”

“Papa,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh, that’s adorable!” Lauren cooed. “He’s three right?”

“Yep,” Vanessa told her. “Please, make yourselves at home. Ash was in the middle of making breakfast.”

“See, Mum? I told you,” Harry said. “Mum thought it was too early to be here, but I told her it’s Ash, so he was probably already up making breakfast. He always did wake up earlier than the rest of us.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Ashton said, waving his hand over his head as he walked over to the kitchen. “I already got the coffee goin- Bailey! Why didn’t you say anything, silly girl?” he asked Bailey who was still in her high chair, munching happily on the Cheerios Vanessa had placed on the tray for her.

Bailey just offered up a giant grin, revealing a small smattering of baby teeth, that had Ashton’s family awwing. “So this must be Miss Bailey,” Anne smiled.

“That would be her,” Vanessa said proudly.

“And she’s also… Finn’s? His name is Finn, right?”

“Yes,” Vanessa nodded. “And he should be here soon, so you’ll get to meet him as well as his mom and girlfriend.”

“The whole family.”

“Exactly,” Ashton said, passing out steaming mugs of coffee before resuming cooking. “Sugar’s on the counter. Creamer’s in the fridge.”

Happy chatter and the smell of breakfast filled the kitchen as the adults made conversation of catching up, as Ashton had done a stellar job of filling in both his girlfriend and family on all the important details, so it felt more like a family reunion than meeting family for the first time. Harry was helping Ashton with getting plates of food for everyone when there was a sharp knock on the door before Finn’s voice filled the air with a loud, “Merry Christmas! We’re here!”

“Daddy!” Mason screeched, running for Finn. “Mimi, Nana!” they also heard the boy say, before. “Daddy… Papa.”

“Oh, is Papa’s family here already?” Finn asked, coming into the kitchen with Mason on his hip, Carol and Mia right behind him. “They are! Hi, I’m Finn. This is my mom Carol, and my girlfriend Mia. You must be Anne, Lauren and Harry.”

More hugs hello and murmurs of “nice to meet you”s sounded around, before Finn hugged Vanessa hello, pressing a swift kiss to the side of her head. “Merry Christmas, Ness.”

“Merry Christmas, Finn,” she returned the warmth.

~2024~

Bailey’s first Christmas set a new precedent for the family that carried through, so when it came time to decide what to do about the first Christmas with the twins, there was no discussion about what to do.

After a Christmas Eve spending touring the neighborhood to look at the lights, Finn took Bailey and Mason home, leaving Ashton and Vanessa to be woken up by the crackling of the bay monitor rather than Mason and Bailey jumping on top of them.

“Merry Christmas,” Ashton mumbled sleepily, a lazy grin on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” Vanessa answered with a kiss. “Ready for our babies to have their first Christmas?”

“Not even a little bit,” Ashton chuckled. “But Mum’s excited to finally meet them. So are Lauren and Harry. And I’m excited to see them again.”

“I know you miss them,” Vanessa said, acknowledging the part her husband was leaving out. “Maybe now that the twins are bigger we can take a family trip to Australia next summer. What do you think?”

“It’ll be winter there.”

“So we’ll have Christmas in June!”

That got another giggle from Ashton. “How about we have Christmas now. Because it’s actually Christmas. But, we’ll definitely talk about a family trip to Australia later cuz I really like the sound of that.”

“Deal! Now let’s go get those babies of ours before they really start screaming.”

~2026~

Breakfast dishes were stacked in the sink a mile high, wrapping paper was thrown all about the living room floor, and the house was alive with the shrieks of children laughing, and the adults chattering comfortably.

Vanessa sighed dreamily, hands wrapping around her second cup of coffee, leaning into Ashton’s side. “You alright, baby?” he murmured low in her ear, shifting slightly to pull her closer.

“I am… so fuckin’ happy,” she choked out, giving him a watery smile. “Like… I can’t put it into words how happy I am. How… I didn’t think this was possible for me. But… here I am. I woke up to four children screaming at the top of their lungs for their parents to wake up. And we were all here together already, under one roof. I am with the people I love most in the world. It’s fuckin’ Christmas. And it is utter chaos. But I’ve never been happier.”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

__

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[canaryatlaw]

okay so, I have a super long crazy travel story from June 2014 that I'm always telling and the full version of it just came up on my facebook memories and I feel the need to post it (it was a tumblr post at the time too, it got like 150 notes) mostly so I can post the link on twitter, so here you go:

Okay, here is the full, unedited story of the absolute ridiculous adventure we went on yesterday. It is long.

The plan for the day was to pack up from our London location, hop on a train to a town called Keighley, where we would get on a steam engine train to a town called Haworth that is the location of the Bronte sisters home, and spend the day there. We were then going back to Keighley, take the train to Lancaster, then catch the final train up to the Lake District, with an expected arrival time of 8 pm.

Well, for waking up at 6 and running across London, through the tube, and to the train station with all your luggage for a 10 day trip went surprisingly smoothly, but after we get on the first train that ends. Upon arriving in Keighley we had about half an hour to get the next train, so the plan was for a rental company to bring a van to the train station in which we could store our luggage for a few hours, so we could walk (up a ridiculous incline) all over Haworth freely. Get to train station, no van. Oh. Well apparently the rental company sent somebody to take our professor to get the van and bring it to the train station without telling us, and said person was sitting in their car texting, oblivious to the visibly panicked Americans who just showed up. He does find her and manages to get the van back to the station. We load our luggage in and quickly hop on the steam train. Okay, stressful, but not too bad.

We arrive in Haworth and are told the Bronte house/museum was "just at the top of the hill." Well, apparently the British have a different definition of this phrase than Americans. Just up the hill turned out to be several miles up through fields, stores, old houses, everything. But yes, we reached it- and it was at the very top of the hill. Go on tour, look around town, nice little time. We were to meet to walk back and catch the train at 4. It was imperative that we were on time, as upon arriving back in Keighley, our professor had half an hour to return the van and catch the only train back to Lancaster. Amazingly, we did it, despite how far away the rental place was. It looked like that headache was over and we just had a long, luggage attached ride up to the Lake District.

Well, now the real fun begins. We arrive at the Lancaster station right on time, with about 20 minutes until our train north. Our professor double checks with the station manager about what platform and what train. The warden is very friendly, assuring us that we're in the right place and cracking jokes with us. As the train pulls in, our professor yells to the warden to confirm, and he does. So we board the very crowded train with all of our suitcases. It takes us a good 5 minutes just to get seated with our luggage out of the way. As we get settled in, the conductor comes to check tickets. Our professor hands him our group ticket with itinerary....oh no. This is the wrong train going in the wrong direction. Bad. We were told we had to get out at the next stop to take a train back to Lancaster, to then board a correct train.

Well crap. We get off at the next stop, irritated, and again ask for assistance. We easily found the train we were looking for....the one that didn't arrive until past 9. It's just past 7 at this point. Mind you we are in the middle of nowhere. There is literally a station platform and a small strip of stores. No town, no wifi, no buses, nothing. This sucks, but we have to just wait it out. At the end of the small strip of shops is a "micropub." Everyone was pretty fed up at this point, so we decided to head over to unwind a bit. Micropub was a very accurate descriptor. The whole place was about the size of a bedroom, and already filled with people. Did I mention there were 15 of us? Also, they only had drinks and pub snacks. Oh well, everyone is just like what the heck so we get some snacks and a good number of us get a (singular) drink. We sit on the sidewalk outside of the pub consuming this, much to the amusement of the British patrons. They got quite a kick out of the largely given up hope group of Americans. We actually manage to have a bit of fun, and by the time the train comes everyone is happy and laughing, and just a little bit tipsy.

We take the train back, literally one stop, and wait at Lancaster for the right one. Everyone was pretty much in that crazed overtired mode where you act ridiculous and think everything is really funny. The other train patrons obviously thought we were crazy, and the station manager was quite embarrassed by his snafu that landed us back here. But hey, the right train finally comes. It takes a good 5 minutes stopped at the station for us to get all our luggage stacked and make sure everything was correct. We call ahead to the car company that was to meet us with the rental in the Lake District and the Bed and Breakfast where we'd be staying and they were both able to accommodate our time change. How lucky! Almost. We get off the train at the Lake District and unload all our luggage. Just as the train is leaving and and everyone is collecting their individual bags, we notice that nobody is claiming this black suitcase, that suddenly looks quite unfamiliar...oops. We took someone's bag by accident...and the train is gone. Well we all felt bad knowing we just made someone else's day a little worse, but we give it to the station manager and go to meet the people with the two vans we'd be using for the next two days. Except there not there. So we wait...again. Finally, they do show up, with a quite clueless old man trying to instruct us on how to program where we were going into the GPS and failing miserably. Keep in mind we had very shotty cell service (since we were still in the middle of nowhere) and using data overseas is quite difficult. We can't figure out how to turn the audio of the GPS on, so we resign to leaving the station going off the visual instructions. It was only supposed to be about a 20 minute ride, and hey, what else could go wrong at this point right? Surely we had exhausted our Murphy's law quota for the day. I mean, we had gone on 9 trains.

Well. Apparently at this time of year the sun sets very late here. As in it was finally getting dark…at 11. But when it did set, it was very dark. So we are traveling further and further away from the small bit of civilization we had on very narrow European roads, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, and the GPS starts malfunctioning, telling us to go down a road then when we do starts re-routing us elsewhere, ad infinitum…Oh yeah, and there's also a whole lot of mountains here (seriously it looks like the shire, it's gorgeous) so the roads were quite hilly, and we had an American driver who's not totally accustomed to this, and it's a manual transmission…what's that burning smell? Is that smoke? Oh no, that's smoke. And it's coming from the car.

Crap.

The transmission was not happy and started smoking, everywhere. The smoke then got through the AC vents into the car, where everybody starts choking and coughing…so we pull over and literally jump out of the car. It was at this point where I was legitimately worried for my life. We were in the middle of the woods, on a hill, with a broken car, no cell phone service, and by now it's midnight…yeah, this was bad. I was also partially convinced the car was going to blow up.

And then in an unforeseen plot twist, I managed to save the day. We were trying to figure out what the heck to do when I tried to look at my maps on my cell on a whim…and it loaded. What? It had us located. Okay….so I type in the name of the bed and breakfast, not knowing the address…and it loads. Oh man, the GPS on my phone is working!! The transmission had cooled down some, so we very carefully climbed back in the car, trying to follow my GPS. It took us another 40 minutes of nowhere-ness…up to the point where the road was only wide enough for one car, barely even enough for our van. And about a hundred "are you sure we're going the right way?" to which I could only respond "…no?" And then there was a rabbit in the middle of the road, so we slowed down…and it stopped. So we move forward and it moves, then reverses, then stops and we were all going crazy and screaming for the poor rabbit to get out of the road and not meet it's death at our hand. It's probably relevant to mention that this is also where Beatrix Potter lived, so that probably fed into that….and the inn appears. Miles away from absolutely everything. We pull in, I shut the navigation off, and then look in the corner of my phone to see that it had just now switched to no service whatsoever.

The really crazy part? When we headed back into town today with a better sense of direction, I had no service for at least 5 miles away from the place. There's no way my GPS should've lasted that long. And so that's the ridiculous story of how Rachel saved the day. 📷

(the fact that is left out of that story is my phone gps only worked because I went ahead and switched my data on, which resulted in a $600 phone bill, but I deemed it was in fact an emergency and my dad had no issues paying the bill, so it all worked out)

[kpopfromtheblock]

a/n ⇾  i know it’s not what you all were expecting but i hope you enjoy regardless. sorry for being away so long. i think i’m back now lol... thank you all so much for reading and for all your love and support! ✨

THERE WILL NOT BE A PART 2 TO THIS, PLS DO NOT ASK.

LIFE WITH BANGTAN | knj + myg + jhs

008

genre ⇾ smut, fluff + comedy

pairing ⇾ bts x fem reader, yoongi x reader, namjoon x reader, hoseok x reader

summary ⇾ you don’t usually get invited to the studio when your boyfriends are working so you know something is definitely up when Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok ask you to stop by bc they need your help...

warning ⇾ it’s  s m u t  so; polygamous relationship, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, overstimulation, threesome, voyeurism, fingering, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation + usual warnings: cringy-ness and swearing

words ⇾ 6k 

I DID MY BEST TO PROOF READ THIS, SORRY IF THERE ARE STILL SOME GRAMMAR MISTAKES! 

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You ring the doorbell to Yoongi’s Genius Lab and wait patiently.

 After hearing a few electronic beeping sounds, the door is being pulled open. You are happy to see a pair of bright eyes and a heart shaped mouth, forming a smile at you.

“Hi Hobi,” You greet him and stand on your toes to reach his lips for a peck. “Hi Angel, thanks for coming!” He says after kissing you back and stepping aside so you can step in.

Once you enter the room, your eyes land on Namjoon, whose arms are already stretched out, waiting to receive a hug from you. You giggle at how cute he is. “Hi Joonie,” You say as you step into his arms. He waste no time wrapping his arms around your waist and you wrap yours around his head, softly holding him to your chest as you stroke your fingers through the strands of hair at the back of his head.

Namjoon closes his eyes and enjoys the soothing feeling of your fingers in his hair.

It’s only been a few days since you’ve seen him but he always misses you dearly when you’re apart.

Still wrapped in Joon’s arms, your eyes meet the side of on Yoongi’s face.

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth as he focuses on the computer screen in front of him. He hasn’t turned to see you since you entered the studio which isn’t unusual. 

Most people would take offense to him not greeting them when they arrive but you know Yoongi well enough by now to know that that’s just the way he is.

Usually when he’s focused on his music, he has little to no time to pay attention to anything else.

“Hi Yoongs,” You finally say, just wanting to let him know you’re there. “Hi Kitten.” He responds, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

“He’s been like that since we got here earlier.” Namjoon mumbles to you and you nodded understandably. You unwrapped yourself from Joon and walk over to where Hoseok is sitting on the couch. You find your place on the plush seat next to him. He drapes his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and you snuggle up into his side.

“So what goes on?… Why did you guys tell me to come here?” You asks, mindlessly playing with Hoseok’s hand. You use the tip of your finger to trace the skin over each bulging vein.

You never thought yourself to be a person who is attracted to someone’s hands but as mentioned before, a lot has changed since you met the boys...

“We just wanted to see you.” Namjoon speaks up and you have to raise an eyebrow at him in suspicion.

‘I just saw you a few days ago.’ You think to yourself.


“Ok, not that I don’t want to see you guys too but y’all never really invite to the studio.” You say crossing your arms over your chest. “So excuse me if I don’t believe that you told me to come over just because you missed me...” You add in disbelief.

“I always invite you over.” Hoseok protest you, moving his hand down to wrap securely around your waist.

“Yes, I know Hobi but these two,” You say pointing between Namjoon and Yoongi. “Never want me around.” You say jokingly with a pout forming on your lips. “Lies, you tell.” Namjoon argues and you giggle. 

“There’s a reason why I don’t invite you here when I’m working and you know that...” Yoongi says, finally turning around in his chair to face you.

You take a few seconds to take in his appearance. He’s dressed in all black... One of your biggest weaknesses.

A beanie on his head, a hoodie, some sweatpants and a pair of Balenciaga sneakers on his feet to finish off the look.

Although he looks good enough to eat, you can tell by the look in his eyes that he is exhausted. You almost want to scold him because you know he’s been staring at the computer screen all day, probably hasn’t even eaten or taken a break, but you refrain from doing so as you know it would be pointless…

He’s going to do what he wants, especially when it comes to his music, even if it means working himself tirelessly...

“Why do I always tell you that you can’t come here while I’m working?” Yoongi asks again, getting you out of your thoughts. He looks at you expectingly.

“Because, I’ll be a DiStRaCtIoN.” You say in a mocking tone while holding your fingers up to put air quotes around the word. Yoongi can’t help be chuckle at your antics. “Bingo.” He confirms before swiveling back around in his chair.

“Well I for one,” Hoseok starts, gathering the attention of you and Namjoon. “Love when you come visit me Angel.” He says, theres a hint of mischief in his voice and you know exactly why.

“Yeah because her visits to your studio always ends with her mouth around your cock.” Namjoon apparently knows why too…

You bit back a smile and hold your hands up to your cheek as they start to warm up from embarrassment. “I won’t deny that that is true but it’s not the only reason why I like when she comes around…” Hobi informs him. “I mean that’s a big factor but not the only reason.” He says, and you blush furiously before hiding your face in his chest.

“Cute.” Namjoon coos, beaming over at you.

He thinks you’re the most adorable when you’re flustered, as do the other boys.

You  know you should be used to these types of conversations with your boyfriend by now and you know they’re even more detailed when you’re not around but for some reason they still make you blush like a little school girl… You can’t help it.

“Any who,” You say as remove your face from Hoseok’s chest. “Why am I here?” You ask, getting back on topic.

“We need your help with something.” Yoongi informs you, eyes still glued to his computer. “Something like?” You ask curiously.

“A song." Namjoon tells you.

“You need my help? With a song?” If you were confused before, you are even more so now. 

Why would the guys ask for your help with a song… It’s not like you’re music expert or anything. Yes, you understand the basics... You know what it is and you enjoy it but anything beyond that? Nope.

“Yeah we want you to listen to something we’ve been working on.” Hoseok explains. “We got the beat down but we feel like it could be better.” He continues.

“It’s missing something.” Namjoon voices.

You nod your head, letting them know you understand what they’re asking of you. They just want me to listen and give your input. That doesn’t sound too hard…

You suddenly perk up in your seat when you realize this is probably a song that no one else has heard yet. You’ll be the first to listen to it… You feel a sense of pride swelling in your chest knowing they respect your opinion enough to let you listen to one of their unreleased songs.

“Okay, I don’t know how much help I’ll be but I’ll take a listen.”

“Nice!” Hobi says enthusiastically. 

Soon after the word leaves his mouth, Yoongi hits a button on his keypad and a beat starts to pour through the speakers in the studio. 

Yoongi swirls back around in the chair to face the rest of you.

The beat starts off slow. It is definitely giving R&B vibes. It’s very… sensual and different from the usual style of music they do. 

You bob your head as the tempo picks up just a bit.

You don’t noticed that they boys are watching you intently… You are too immersed in what you’re hearing to pay attention to anything else.

You continue bobbing your head to the rhythm. So far so good. You really like it and just from what you hear, you already know whatever lyrics the boys decide add later, will make the song ten times better.

But you do agree, there is definitely something missing. You’re not sure what but, there could be more, like Namjoon mentioned.

“What do you think?” Yoongi asks after the beat fades out. “I love it.” You say immediately. “I love all your other music but this is different…” You explain. “It smooth... It flows nicely... It’s more sexy?” You try not to cringe at the use of the word sexy but you couldn’t think of a better word to express what you mean. 

“Thats what we were going for.” Hoseok says proudly beside you. You beam up at him, happy because he is happy. 

“Although it’s already good, I do understand what you mean about it missing something…”

“Right? There could be more.” Namjoon suggest and you nod.

“Which is why we thought about you.” Hoseok confesses and you turn your head to look at him. 

“Me? Why would you think about me?” You ask in confusion. 


“We thought your voice would be a nice contribution...” Yoongi says.

“Ha!” You laugh out loud, throwing your head back. Namjoon chuckles with you and Hobi smiles. “You’re joking right?” You ask with amusement in your voice.

“Nope, not at all.” Yoongi say without a hint of humor in his.

You look at the three of them, your mouth falls open slightly, in both shock and disbelief.

“The three of you are aware of the fact that I cannot sing right? Like can’t hold a note to save my life... I’m worse than Joon in the shower.” Yoongi’s eyes scrunch closed and his shoulders visibly start to shake as he laughs at your statement. Namjoon on the other hand did not find it funny. “Hey! I can sing.” He says, glaring at you. “I know you can baby but in the shower? Not so much.” You retort. You feel a slight pinch on your thigh which causes you to yelp softly. You look over at Hoseok, knowing he’s the one who inflicted the pain on you. “Don’t be mean.” He warns you, with an amused smile on his face. “I’m not!” You defend yourself. “Joon knows I’m only kidding, right baby?” You say before getting up from the couch to walk over to Namjoon. You plant yourself in his lap and he instantly wraps his arms around you.

If he was mad at you before, there’s no sign of him being mad now.

“Anyways,” Yoongi speaks up. “We weren’t asking you to sing.” He informs you.

“You weren’t?” You say a puzzled look on your face.

“Mm, mm.” Yoongi hums and shakes his head.

“Then what?” You ask.

“We were hopping to use you voice for something else...” Hoseok mentions. You look at him, curiosity taking over you features.

“Okay...” You trail off, wanting him to give you a proper explanation.

“Something different...” Namjoon chimes in, his voice has suddenly dropped an octave and if you weren’t so perplexed about what the boys needed your voice for, you probably would’ve felt the tingle you always feel in your abdomen, every time he uses that voice on you.

“Why does it feel like you guys are beating around the bush...”

Yoongi sighs. “Cause they are...” He says. He spins his chair around to face you for third time tonight. “We want you to moan for the song.” Yoongi blurts out and had you been drinking anything, you would’ve spat it out in shock, right in front of him.

“W-what?” You stuttered out.

You’re not sure if you heard Yoongi correctly, he does have a tendency to mumble when he speaks sometimes... 

Maybe he didn’t actually say what you thought he did.

“We’d like to record you moaning for the song.” Yoongi says.

“Ok, so you did say what I thought you said.” You mumble to yourself. You sit up in your seat, placing your hands neatly in your lap. “Lemme get this straight,” You start, looking around the room to see each of their facial expression as you talk. “You all called me over here because you want to record the sound of me moaning… For your song?” You question. Even saying it out loud, it sounds fucking ridiculous. This has to be a joke. 

“Correct.” Yoongi confirms nonchalantly while nodding his head.

You clear your throat… “I’m flattered really, I am but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Your voice is filled with worry. “Why not?” Without turning to face him, you can almost hear the pout that you know is on Hobi’s face and you hate to reject them but you can’t help but think of the fans.

You're sure ARMY would get suspicious if the boys released a song with some random girl moaning in the background. Releasing a song like that would be basically be like ratting yourself out because, knowing the fans - they’d just dig and dig until they find what they’re looking for. You’ve done an exceptional job a keeping things under wraps so far... No need to break the streak now.

"What about the fans?" You finally voice your concern. "Hm?” He hums cutely. “Why do you ask Baby girl?" Namjoon asks, tilting his head to the side like a puppy would if they were curious. "Well, I'm sure ARMY would have a lot to say after hearing a girl moaning in the background of one of your songs." You stated causing Yoongi to chuckle.

"We've already thought about that and have come up with a solution."

"Enlighten me..."

"First of all, your voice would be subtle in the background.” Yoongi begins explaining.“We'd be rapping over it, so it wouldn't be picked up right away.” He continues.

“We'll blend it into the beat so it sounds more like an instrument rather than anything else.” Namjoon chimes in.

“And if they do catch it-...” You cut him off, “Which they will… You forgot that your fandom is exceptionally sharp and quick witted.” You state the obvious. “If they do catch it…” Hoseok picks up from where Yoongi has left off. “We’ll just tell them that we’ve taken Jungkook’s voice and pitched it up. They’ll have a field day with that.” He seems enthusiastic about the situation.

“So why don’t you just do that instead… Use Kookie’s voice” You suggest, wondering why they’d wanted to take a risk by using yours. “We don’t want too use Kookie’s voice… We want to use yours.” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Isn’t it too risky?” The weariness in your tone makes Namjoon raise an eyebrow at you. 
“You really don’t want to do this huh?” He asks, a hint of sorrow in his voice. 

You know it must sound like you are coming up with every excuse in the book to not have your moan recorded but you just want to make sure the boys have thoroughly thought this through and will have no regrets later on.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to… I’m definitely intrigued but I just don’t want this to cause any problems. I don’t want ARMY to be upset or anything…” You say solemnly.

“You’re so considerate, its cute but you don’t have to worry. We know what you’re doing.” Namjoon assures you.

“It’ll be fun Angel… The song will be even more special this way and only the three of us and the kids will know about this.”

“The other boys are on board with this?”

“Jungkook was the one who said to tell ARMY it’s his voice.” Yoongi notifies you.

“Hmm….” You hum to yourself. Thinking for a few seconds about whether or not this would actually be a good idea.

“So what do you say?” Namjoon is impatiently waiting for a response.

A few beats of silence pass before you finally give in. “Okay.” You say shrugging your shoulders. You trust your boys and if they say it’s going to be fine then it’s going to be fine.

“That’s our girl. Come on, let’s go.” Namjoon says standing up.

Fuck, you didn’t think they’d want to start immediately. “Right now?” You ask, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Of course, why waste time.” Yoongi says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Hoseok stands too and holds his hand out for you. You put your hand in his and he leads you to the recording booth… Namjoon follows closely behind.

Yoongi stays seated, messing around with all the little buttons and knobs on the sound equipment. "Aren't you coming my love?" You ask, directing your attention to him. He shakes his head. "I have to stay here, make sure everything is running smoothly but don't fret Kitten, I'll be watching you." He assures you.

A pout falls on your lips. You want him to be in there with you too...

As you step into the booth, you are greeted by an array of plush blankets and pillows covering the center of the floor.

It seems like the boys had been anticipating you agreeing to do this for them, already making arrangements to keep you as comfortable as possible during the recording process. “How did you guys know I’d say yes?” You ask, turning around to face Joon and Yoongi. “Cause’ we know you and you’d do anything for us.” Yoongi’s voice fills the room you’re in, even though he’s on the opposite side of the glass.

You’re not sure how recording booths work but you suppose he can hear everything that is and will soon take place in the room.

You just nodded in agreement at his statement. He’s one hundred percent correct about that... You’d do anything for them.

Hoseok gets down on the floor, sitting comfortably on the plush blankets. He spreads his legs open for you. “Come sit Angel,” He instructs you and you spring into action, getting down on the floor to sit in between Hoseok’s legs with your back pressed against his chest.

You lightly lean back against him, not wanting to put too much of your weight on him in fear that you might hurt his back because of the position he is in.

“Comfortable?” He asks against your ear and you nod your head, rubbing your hands over the softness of the blanket you’re sitting on.

“Nervous?” Namjoon inquires next, squatting down so that he can meet your gaze. Your eyes suddenly drift down to the thickness of his thighs...

To be honest, you noticed them as soon as you came into the studio… The way they look in the black shorts he’s wearing, how thick they’ve gotten and the way the muscles in them beginning to bulge a bit whenever he flexes them, even more so now with new position he’s taken on.

Oh how you’d love to have his thighs in between your own right now. The thought of you rubbing your core on his muscular thigh sends a delicious shiver down spine. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop the whimper that is at the back of your throat.

Namjoon notices this and a smirk forms on his lips. He knows one of your favorite things about him is his thighs and he knows it drives you insane when he wears shorts but he does it anyways to get a reaction out of you.

You finally snatch your eyes away from his lower half to look up at him. He’s smirking at you...

You’ve been caught staring... Again.

“Huh?” You ask, hoping he’d repeat whatever it was that he asked you. “I said are you nervous?” He asks again. “Oh... Uh, a little bit.” You say truthfully, looking down at your hands. Namjoon reaches out and grabs hold of your them to stop you from nervously fiddling with them. “Don’t be baby girl.” He tries to assure you. “Yeah, it’s just us... And don’t we always take care of you?” Hobi adds, kissing your bare shoulder. “I know you guys will... I’m not worried about that... Just the whole idea of being record is...” Your voice trails off. “Is what?” You hear Yoongi’s voice again. You look over to see him standing up with his hands on his hips, staring at you through the glass window. “What if I sound weird…” You say shyly which causes the men around you to laugh. “Not possible baby girl. You make sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard and I’d really like to hear them now if you don’t mind.” Namjoon tells you and you feel your face and body heat up with arousal at his words. 

“Okay...” You say softly.

Suddenly the lights in the recording booth are being dimmed down to set the mood. You assume it’s Yoongi’s doing. “Just relax, okay?” Hoseok comforts you, by wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Whenever you guys are ready.” Yoongi encourages you all.

Hoseok is quick to pepper kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder and neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access, always loving the feeling of his mouth on you. “Mmm.” He hums contently. “You always smell so good.” He compliments you and your face heats up for the hundredth time tonight. “Thank you?” You respond softly, not sure of what else to say. 

Hobi chuckles at how adorable you are.

Your eyes start to flutter open and closed as the feeling of Hoseok’s lips on your neck cause a warmth to spread between your legs. You can feel your heat getting wetter by the minute... It’s becoming a bit uncomfortable and you’re itching to get out of the leggings you’re in.

Namjoon is now on his knees in front of you. He brings his hand forward to brush the back of it across the side of your face. “Our beautiful girl.” He whispers and you smile, leaning into his touch.

Your heart feels like it might explode from the affection and attention you’re receiving from your boys. In times like this, you can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that you are actually in a relationship with seven amazing men who adore you and worship the ground you walk on.... 

You of all people?

‘How did I get so lucky?’ You think.

Namjoon leans forward until your faces are only a few inches apart. His breath is fanning over your lips. “I love you.” He mumbles sweetly. You respond by leaning forward, closing the rest of the distance between the two of you so that you can press your lips against his full ones. Namjoon can’t hold back the smirk forming on his lips as the two of you begin molding your mouths together, all the while Hoseok is still attacking your neck, leaving a beautiful array of lust induced bruises on your skin.

He unwraps his hands from around your waist to place them against your thighs. He grips them softly, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth.

Any little touch counts at this point.

When your lips part for a brief second, Joon takes the opportunity to pull your plump bottom lip between his teeth. He nibbles softly on it then sucks it into his mouth before letting it spring back into place.

You almost whine at the lost of Joon’s lips from yours. You want more, you always want more. You lift your hands up to grab hold of the strings on his hoodie, pulling him closer to you with as much force as you can. You smash your lips against his frantically, eager to taste more of him. He groans against your mouth and you waste no time slipping your tongue in. 

The taste of his mouth is familar yet so sweet. It swallows you whole and makes your cunt tingle with anticipation. If you could spend the rest of your life making out with Kim Namjoon, you do it. 

“She’s wearing too much clothes.” The impatient tone of Yoongi’s voice catches you off guard. You pull away from Joon to give your attention to Yoongi. His eyes are burning into you, so much so that you can feel an electric shock pulse through you just from his gaze.

You wish he were in the room with the rest of you.

“Is that so Angel? Should we take these off?” Hoseok says as he pulls on the hem of your shirt. “And these.” Namjoon hooks his fingers in the band of your leggings, teasingly pulling at them.

“Please.” You say in needy breath, not sure if you can take much more of how slow things are progressing.

You just want them to play with your pussy already.

“Always so polite.” Joon smirks at you and your clit throbs instantly at the sound of his voice.

You need these panties off, immediately.

“Arms up Angel.” Hoseok instructs you and you do as you’re told, sitting up straight and lifting your arms up for him.

Hobi hurriedly takes your shirt off, exposing the ugly heather grey sports bra you’re wearing. You suddenly feel self conscious, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Uh uh uh.” Yoongi tsk at you. “Don’t cover yourself up Kitten. I wanna see you.” He commands.

“If I had known…” You moan out as Hobi nibbles on your earlobe. “That coming here, would end with me being half naked…. I would’ve worn something prettier.” You try to make an excuse for yourself, thinking that they wouldn’t be happy with your appearance.

Hoseok laughs against your skin. “Oh Angel.” He says against your skin. “You’re pretty in everything…” He informs you.

“It also doesn’t matter what you’re wearing,” Namjoon says from in front of you. “It’s all coming off anyways.” He starts to tug your leggings and panties down in one go, causing you to lift your hips off the blanket.

When the material is completely off your body, he tosses it behind him. You hear it hit the floor with a soft thud.

Namjoon’s eyes fall on to your wet center. Your lips are glistening with your arousal and in Namjoon’s eyes, you are the most appetizing thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, she’s dripping.” Namjoon thinks out loud.

“God, I bet.” Hoseok growls, just the thought of how wet you are is making his pants feel a lot tighter.

“Fuck.” Yoongi groans at the sight of you.

“Let’s give Hyung a show, yea?” Hoseok mumbles in your ear for just the two of you to hear. “Yes,” The word is strained as it leaves your mouth.

“Spread her open for me Hobi.” Namjoon instructs the man behind you.

“My pleasure.” He starts. “I can’t wait to get my fingers wet…” He kisses the side of your head before sliding his hands in between your legs, his index finger slipping in between your folds. You throw your head back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. “You’re so soft and warm.” He compliments you. His finger glides easily against your harden nub. You lift your hips up off the floor, wanting to feel more friction against your clit. “So needy.” He says teasingly.

“I said spread her, not play with her.” Namjoon hisses, laying down on his stomach, positioning himself comfortably between your thighs. He kisses a trail up from your knee too the middle of your thigh.

“Sorry Joon, I couldn’t help it.” Hoseok confesses as he hooks his hands under your thighs, spreading you open wider.

Namjoon and Yoongi now have a full view of your glorious cunt. He watches in amazement as your hole clenches around nothing. His dick twitches in his pants at the sight.

You’re so pink and pretty and swollen for them and he can’t wait to taste you.

Namjoon goes back to peppering open mouth kisses on your inner high. He’s leaving a scorching trail with his lips on your skin, getting closer to your core... You think he’s finally going to give you what you want but he switches his attention over to the right thigh before he gets to your most needy part. 

“No more teasing... Please.” You beg as he nibbles on your skin. “Someone’s impatient.” Hoseok mocks, followed by a devious smirk from Namjoon between your legs.

He grips your knees, using them the pull you a little closer to him. Your back slides further down the front Hoseok’s body. You can now feel his thick, hard cock pressed against the middle of your back. You want so desperately to take care of it for him, but the thought flies out of your mind the minute Namjoon licks stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit. “Oh fuck,” You moan out instantly, back arching against Hoseok. 

He removes one hand from underneath your thigh, sliding up your side to caress your skin. He slips his hand under the band of your sports to grab the hold of your bare breast, gripping it softly before kneading the flesh as best as he can within the confinements of the material.

Namjoon on the other end is licking into to you repeatedly, the grit of his tongue gliding in between your folds is causing a string of soft moans to escape your lips.

It feels so good but of course it’s not enough for you. You put your hands on his head and grip at his hair. “More.” You breath out. “What was that Angel?” Hoseok asks, being the only one to have heard you... Or so you thought. “She wants more.” Yoongi informs his members. “More what?” Namjoon speaks against your wet center. The sounds of his voice vibrating against you, making your hips buck forward. “Please, suck my clit.” You beg him, not caring how weak and pathetic you sound at the moment.

“Ah,” Namjoon says in realization. “Patience Baby girl, I was getting there.” He assures you and you almost let out a groan because patience is something you don’t have enough of right now but Yoongi’s voice stops you from doing so...

“You guys aren’t doing your best tonight.” He teases the other boys. “If I were in there, Kitten would’ve been on her second orgasm by now.” Yoongi says smugly.

You don’t have to look over to him to know there’s a cocky grin on his face.

Namjoon growls at Yoongi’s words before diving mouth first into your pussy. He pays special attention to your clit, lapping his tongue around it. You throw your head back in pleasure, pulling at Namjoon’s hair.

‘Yes, this is what I’ve been waiting for.’

“Fu-uck yes! Right there Joonie,” You moan out loudly. “Right here?” He responds, mouth wrapped snuggly around your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, savoring the taste of you.

You begin panting, the more he sucks on you. You’re chest heaving and your mind spiraling at the pleasure building inside of you.

Yoongi’s words must’ve also lit fire underneath Hoseok with the way he is frantically pulling your bra up over your breast, freeing them from the god forsaken cage that was your sport bra.

Both his hands come down to cup your perky round breast in his palms. He began rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. You whimper out at the feeling. 

There is so much going on that you’re sure you will not last long.

You hadn’t realized but you’ve been lifting your hips up off the floor to meet Joon’s mouth. “You’re so eager Kitten.” Yoongi confirms from where he’s sat.

At this point you were a moaning uncontrollably, whimpering weakly between the two men, panting their names back and forth.

Namjoon was making a mess of both you and his mouth. He pulled away from you, letting out a ragged breath in the process. His lips glazed are over with your arousal, breath fanning heavily over your swollen clit.

“God, you taste amazing. You always taste so amazing.” He compliments you. His words causing your pussy clench around nothing

He brings his hand up, taking two fingers to run up and down between your lips. The tip of his fingers brush against you sensitive bud. You breath out, the sound of your moan getting caught in your throat. “That’s it baby. Nice a loud for me.” Yoongi encourages you.

“You’re doing so well.” Hoseok praises. You want to respond to him but Namjoon sliding his fingers into your tight hole causes you to lose your train of thought. “Oh my god.” You whimper, your eyes screw shut. “How are so tight?” Namjoon questions you before latching his mouth back on to your clit.

He plunges fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching sounds of your pussy, mixed in with your moan and ragged breathing fill the room.

“Fuck” You hear Yoongi groan, you take a chance and glance at him... Your mouth falls open at the view. His head is thrown back against his chair, his neck and adams apple is on full display... The way is bobs as he swallows does something to you. You can’t see anything past his waist but it doesn’t take rocket science to know that the up and down movement of his arm, means that he is pumping the flesh of his cock between his palm. The sight of Yoongi is enough to push you closer to your climax.

“Yoongi,” You moan out his name, his head snaps up to look at you and he smirks when he realizes he’s been caught. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you Kitten.” He informs you, his voice is so desperate and needy that you almost want to run to him and drop to your needs before him.

You swear you were about to beg Yoongi to let you suck his dick but Namjoon begins making out with your clit as his fingers pump relentlessly inside of you. “Come on Baby Girl.” Namjoon encourages. “Please cum for me. I want you to cum around my fingers, please.” He begs as he curls his fingers up, moving them against a certain sensitive spot inside you. “You’ve been doing so well Angel.” Hoseok tells you. “Making such pretty noises for us.” He adds.

The pressure you feel on your abdomen is heavy... Something finally snaps inside of you after building up for the past 5 minutes, you can feel your orgasm consume you. It feels like being submerged under a pool of pleasure. 

Your body shakes in Hoseok’s arms, all the while Namjoon is still giving you his all, mouth and fingers still on and in you. You begin pushing his head away from your core, “I-I can’t...” You nearly scream out. “One more.” It’s Yoongi’s voice again, he is pumping feverishly against his cock, his breathing is staggered and his words are strained. 

“You can give us one more Angel.” Hoseok’s voice is so sweet, yet so sinful in your ear and you can’t decide which side of him you like more at the moment.

Namjoon is up on his knees now, steadying himself with his fingers still in you. He pumps them in and out of you and places his thumb on your clit, pressing down hard. You yelp and buck your hips, feeling another orgasm approaching. 

You didn’t even have enough time to recover from the first one. “Joonie,” You whine out his name, ready to beg him to stop. The overstimulation is way too much that tears start to prickle your eyes. “Gimme one more Baby, just one.” He says, fingers pumping mercilessly.

Hoseok puts his fingers under your chin and turns your head towards his. His lips crash down on yours as a way to distract you and it works for a bit when he slips his tongue into your mouth and sucks on your bottom lip but then you hear Yoongi panting and grunting from the opposite side of the glass. Your pussy clenches tightly around Namjoon’s fingers at the sound. “That’s it Baby girl.” Namjoon speaks lowly, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you.

You gasps against Hoseok’s mouth as you feel a familiar warmth roll over inside you. Your mouth falls open but the sounds is caught in your throat, as your orgasms washes over you for the second time. You eyes roll back into your head for a brief second before you hear Yoongi’s voice again... “Look at me.” He growls. He selfishly wants your attention as he is also about to come undone in his hands. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, giving Yoongi the eye contact he asked for. 

He grunts and groans as he cums, making sounds you are all too familiar with as you have been the cause of them many times. 

Namjoon watches you ride out the rest of your orgasm, cumming all over his fingers, palm and the blanket. He smirks, seeing your arousal drip down your thighs.

You look so pretty like this, completely lost in lusts, covered in your sticky, sweet substance and flushed beyond belief.

He pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper at the loss.

“You are amazing.” Hoseok whispers in your hair, placing multiple kisses to the top of your head. He brings his hand up to wipe the sweat off your forehead. You skin feels warm under his palm. “I’m proud of you Baby girl.” You smile tiredly at Namjoon. “Did you get it Yoongs?” You ask curiously and Yoongi chuckles in the same tired manner. “Oh yea, I definitely got it,” Yoongi confirms and your smile grows a little bit wider.

“I hope you guys invite me to the studio more often.” You say after finally catching your breath. This causes your boyfriends to laugh out loud. Hoseok wraps his arms securely around you and sways side to side. “You’re always invited.” He tells you and you hum contently.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Namjoon says before popping his fingers into his mouth. He nonchalantly sucks your arousal off them while standing up to retrieve your leggings. “What about the three of you?” You say, eyes traveling to the tent in Joon’s pants. You feel bad that you hadn’t been able to touch or pleasure them the whole entire time. You wanted to return the favor. 

“Oh don’t worry Kitten.” Yoongi tells you.

“We’re gonna clean up then we’re taking you back home.” There is an insanely smug look on his face, you’re not too sure how what is going on in his mind but you would certainly love to find out. “We’ll need a bed for what we want to do to you next.” He adds. Your cunt throbs again at his dirty words...

‘Oh fuck...’

[usurpyr-a]

[ rest ] for (Eren) to rest his head in (Mikasa's) lap ...

IT’S DAYS LIKE THESE when he falters in stride / stumbling over a sudden pitch-shift in balance, always teetering on the precipice of that great dark chasm threatening to swallow him alive ( eventually, inevitably ). But he pulls himself back from that ledge - has to, always, elsewise he’ll never reach the gold-tinged horizon glimmering in the distance, like so many shards of glass catching the fading light. He has to keep going, has to keep moving forwards, spurred on by the echoes of his mother’s voice screaming survive! screaming live! Even if it amounts to nothing, in the end ( and there will be an end / he’ll make sure of it ) - even if he has to drag his heels along transparent splinters, soaking their mirrored reflections in his red, red blood, he will endure it, always. EVEN IF ALL THAT AWAITS HIM IS ANOTHER HELL / EVEN IF ALL THAT REMAINS IS FIRE AND BRIMSTONE. ( He has to- no, don’t look back- has to move, but he’s slung over someone’s shoulder helpless to watch going further and further away and he’s just so fucking tired he wants it all to stop- )

He can’t even remember what did it, this time - the hours have all blurred together into an ugly smear of tongue-numbing lies and happy expressions he couldn’t bring himself to force for very long. Maybe the monotony of it all has finally overwhelmed him - has forced about an acute realization of his own depravity that prickles the back of his neck like so many eyes as needles. ( Look at me! the little boy cries, fingers splayed towards the heavens. LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE MADE OF ME! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID! ) The weight of expectation has forced him to cringe away from the worried gazes of his compatriots / unable to bear the scrutiny that doesn’t exist, or the paranoia that seizes his lungs every time someone so much as utters his name ( TO ALL SUBJECTS OF YMIR, HEAR ME NOW. I AM EREN YEAGER   - ). He fears that one day, to-day, they will taste the rot of that word, and they’ll know how decayed he has become; they’ll recognize his deceit and spit vitriol at him and it’ll be all his fault, all his fault, always his fault. But they’re his friends ( ? ), he should just listen to them- he should quit acting like such a coward and just ... stop.

Perhaps that is why he seeks out a moment of quiet / a refuge from the dull roar of rumbling in his ears that wants to split his skull open like the hard shell of a pomegranate. But all he finds is Mikasa, sitting as patiently and observant as ever - her scarf sits neatly folded in her lap, having been slipped off in the stuffy heat of the train car. For whatever reason, that is the sight that dislodges him: her pale neck, the bead of sweat pooling in her collarbone, the thin strands of hair wicking her jaw- He doesn’t even remember getting on the train. The surreal-ness of seeing Mikasa without that scarf jolts his memory back into place / a static shock that nearly has him doubled-over, clutching his stomach-head ( the two interchangeable, always hungry, always growling ). It’s only them, here - the cabin jostles as it bounces over the tracks: he finds himself swaying in the doorway, mouth slightly agape as though he had been preparing to say something, or trailed off in the middle of a sentence. No, he doubts it was important anyway. His expression sours as he lingers in this ensuing silence / out of place, out of time - what the hell was I even thinking, coming here. He feels his lips draw into a thin line and recognizes the pressure building behind his eyes as a valve threatening tears. He thinks, I don’t have anything to be crying about. Nothing at all. Have I really ... not changed ?

IN HER PRESENCE HE CAN’T HELP BUT BE JUVENILE. IT’S ALWAYS HER, HER AND THE I HATE YOU THAT SITS PETULANT ON THE TONGUE / A BOY’S ANGRY OUTCRY FOR ATTENTION: LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME AND SEE ME FOR WHAT I REALLY AM-

He’s so tired of all his ill-made plans / the pretense that comes with acting indifferent when there are so many schemes at play, so many factors to consider, so much unknown and aching. It feels like his insides have been hollowed-out, scraped raw - then discarded like a proper corpse’s wasted meat. All the running around he’s been doing, organizing meetings in the dark, putting evil into motion - his legs hurt / cuts all up to his ankles / and so he threatens to buckle under the slightest breeze, one wrong word wrong time wrong place wrongwrongwrong- He feels so sick, all the time, now, and it’s a pang of hunger he’s never been able to ease despite how often he gorges himself on promises of making things better. It’s either too much or too little / as though he’s compensating for the void that’s been opening up inside him for years now / substituting his own minute cruelties for precious seconds of ( WAIT, WE HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD, WE CAN STILL TALK THIS THROUGH-! ). His own existence is a bone that’s been picked clean / he has nothing left to yield - everything is already in motion and despite how selfish the stupid thought makes him, he wants it to- ( stop !! dad, what are you doing ?! you’re scaring me !! stop it, please !! stop !! )

                                                     - But. He’ll keep going. Has to.

He moves before he’s even consciously aware of it: and that is the pace of his life, recently / always lagging behind, everyone five steps ahead, talking at him but not to him. Soon enough he’s in front of her, fists clenched and mouth curled into a half-snarl half-smile, looking more confident than he feels ( that feeling being nothing ). He looks at her / the concerned, wide-eyed expression of surprise that flits over her features, and all he can conclude of her is a patronizing attitude - Does she really think him that weak, that stupid ? Does she not know that he knows he’s completely falling apart, stitch-by-stitch and seam by unraveled seam ? It’s so obvious. He’s little more than bones and skin at this point, hanging loosely off the idea of the person he used to be but has since outgrown / a pitiful mockery of the unsung hero. All is made even worse by the fact she’s here - because of course she is. Of course she would be the one to watch him collapse / she never leaves, never left. Why is it always her ? He can’t pretend with her / can’t force out the cruel words he needs to to make her go away and LEAVE ME ALONE. ( They’re right. He’s weak. Nothing has changed. He’s still the same worthless brat he’s always been. )

They face off for another few tense seconds before Eren feels it flood out of his system, whistling through the cracks in his façade, allowing stilted glances into the dark hole opening up inside his soul. He’s so ... tired. He doesn’t want to do this, to churn conflict he has no right to even bring up in the first place / not here and not now, so randomly - at least, random to her. So, he sits. He sits beside her, with his head to her shoulder - then down, until it lays on her thighs. It’s cowardly, and stupid, and childish ( “why are you crying? / promise me you won’t tell anyone! ) - but he can’t think of anything else to do. He nevertheless curls up, arms wrapped around his middle, the epitome of exhausted. He feels her legs flex under his cheek / the well-worn fabric of the scarf pillowing him against the rough texture of her pants. Slowly, he turns into her stomach, pressing his nose to the outline of her hip-bone, as though this sudden display of overt intimacy can be explained away as a lax in his guard, something playful instead of serious. Her breath shudders through her with a soft ‘oh’ and Eren squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to open them / refusing to accept any substitutes - I’m tired. I’ll close my eyes. I’ll sleep for awhile. Just ... for a few minutes.

                   A soft grunt is his only comment. “... Wake me up when we get back.”

non-verbal meme.

[oliviaischillin1204]

atla t-word headcanons

Aang

the most naturally tactile person in the group, and therefore the one most likely to instigate tickles. very squirmy, and will try his hardest to get away on instinct (jumping way in the air and airbending to stay away), even though he doesn’t mind being tickled. pretty ticklish everywhere, his favorite spots are his ribs and knees, basically anywhere where his bony-ness is more prominent. doesn’t fight back very hard in tickle fights, because he just wants everyone to have fun.

a playful, gentle ler! he doesn’t like going too hard, and is super respectful of people’s boundaries. totally down to gentle tickle a melt spot for hours.

Katara

super ticklish on her sides and back (and the back of her sides, holy shit). does not like her tickle laugh because it’s very squawky and snorty, even though it’s definitely cute. threatens the hell out of whoever is tickling her. may reflexively try to bend to get herself out of the situation, but has a better control on it than Aang or Toph.

does not start tickle fights, but always finishes them. she only teases someone if she knows that it makes the tickles worse for them (so pretty much only Sokka and Zuko). pretty good at figuring out people’s worst spots really quickly, and hones in on them almost immediately. doesn’t stop until the lee is begging for mercy.

Sokka

worst spots are underarms and thighs, and both cause him to buck like a wild animal. immediate loud laughter, even if you barely touch him, but if you really get him bad he starts giving these breathless wheezing laughs that are more genuine and just as fun. always gets himself into trouble because he can’t say no to any sort of tickle game/bet/dare

if someone’s in a bad mood, he’s the kind of person to just keep poking and prodding them until they accidentally let loose one laugh, and then he attacks them for real. switches between spots super quickly to keep his target guessing where he’s gonna go next. he uses baby talk mostly just to annoy his target, until he suddenly switches to a death spot just as they open their mouth to complain, leaving them shrieking with laughter at the sudden elevation of tickles. he likes to play around for a while, so he doesn’t go too hard on a lee until they’re almost done.

Toph

2nd most touch-starved member of the gaang. the only time anyone can get revenge on her is when they’re on Appa, because she can and will fight back no matter what, and being in the air puts her at a disadvantage. obviously her feet are extremely sensitive, but it can honestly be too much for her, to the point where anything more than gentle touches is nearly uncomfortable in its intensity. other good spots are her sides and stomach, but at least 2 people have to hold her down, because again, she will FIGHT.

100% uses earthbending to trap her target, giving her full range of their tickle spots without having to work very hard to reach them. uses her lie detector ability for pure evil– lots of rhetorical questions like “does this tickle?” that just lets her taunt her victim even more. sometimes all she does is trap someone for a few seconds, just to remind them that she can wreck them at any time, leaving them flustered and giggly

Zuko

haha, poor Zuko. classic case of “haven’t been tickled since he was a young child” plus “touch starvation from his three years of exile” equals a very, very ticklish person. he’s super jumpy and uncomfortable with it at first, but as he gets closer with the gaang he minds being tickled less and less. again, pretty ticklish everywhere, but his worst spots are his stomach, hips, and feet. tries really hard not to fight back because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone (not that he’d ever even try to firebend to get away, but he’s still Strong AF and he doesn’t want his fighting instincts to kick in). unfortunately for him, that usually results in him freezing up, which lets him get completely w r e c k e d. defnitely gets tickled when he’s being too moody (which is to say, very often)  

very rarely instigates anything, just because he’s not used to playing games like that with kids his age. when he does, it takes him a little to feel comfortable with it, but he’ll eventually soften up and start teasing as well. actually really enjoys chasing people, because it makes it feel less like an invasion of personal space and more like a game

Suki

the least ticklish one in the group, which is damn unfortunate, because she is a very good ler. super competitive and thorough, uses her kyoshi warrior training to systematically destroy whoever she’s tickling. she teases, taunts, and baby talks, and she is good at it. definitely the kind of person to jab her fingers into someone’s sides while their back is turned, or to grab their ankle and claw down their sole if their foot is hanging off the bed.

her only weaknesses are her neck and ears, but the only person who ever gets the chance to use that knowledge is Sokka (and only if he’s prepared to face the consequences)