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#Fitz is feeling a lot better
fitzfunnymoments · 2 years
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I don't care how silly it might be to get excited over this but I genuinely do like seeing that Goosewing has my body type :]
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Just thinking about Fitz and Keefe. They're both so jealous of each other. It spiraled into more and more talking about fitz and vacker imperfections and stuff, enjoy :>
(I rambled out the draft on discord, but I did change a few things and add on a bit at the end, so if you feel like rereading it might make more sense now)
tw: breif mentions of ed, suicidal thoughts, and implied sh, but they're all like very brief and not descriptive just want to put a warning
Remember in Flashback when Sophie and Fitz were going all Fitzphie on Keefe's mind, and they found the memory of Alden telling Keefe he was proud?
Imagine it hurt so bad for Fitz when he watched that. Because Alden never says that to Fitz even when he came out on top, no matter how perfect he was, so why did Keefe get that kind of praise?
Keefe may have come out second to Fitz with Foxfire grades, but Fitz has always felt second to Keefe in everything. No matter how perfect he tries to be or how much of a people pleaser he is, it seems inevitable that everyone likes Keefe better anyway.
And how could they not? He's funny, he's messy, he's imperfect.
Fitz could never be like keefe. His family would hate him. But they still like Keefe better.
Alvar always liked Keefe better than his actual little brother. Even though Fitz looked up to Alvar more than anyone! He admitted that in Neverseen!
Alden told Keefe he was proud of him?? for coming in second? Even after all the studying and work Fitz put into being first, being top, being perfect, people always choose keefe, Which is one of the reasons Fitz was so insecure about Sophie spending a lot of time with Keefe while she and Fitz were dating, he was scared she was going to leave him for Keefe, like people always do, because he's just better. he's nicer, he doesn't lash out at people, he doesn't have as much pressure on him because he never cared about pleasing his parents.
AND SHE DID! Sophie did leave him for Keefe. Even though Fitz promised to take things at her pace. Even though he said he'd wait. But it was the match lists that ended up breaking them apart. But what was Fitz supposed to do?? Not care about the match? There had never been a Vacker bad match, and Fitz beign the first one, after everything Alvar did and how much all the Vackers already hate these five in particular, it would bring a whole new level of shame on the family. Not just him, but Biana and Alden and Della too.
Keefe is allowed to not care about this stuff, because he's not perfect. Fitz is so, so, so jealous of Keefe because he GETS TO BE IMPERFECT. HE'S ALLOWED TO MAKE MISTAKES. He's allowed to feel things.
Keefe's parents are awful, Fitz's parents are fine. Anytime Fitz dares to think "hey maybe my parents are manipulating or using me or putting unrealistic expectations on me" he also remembers that he has it GOOD. He's so lucky compared to everyone else. So he has no right to be upset about anything.
In Flashback, Fitz actually says something like this to Sophie: Sophie had to grow up with humans, Keefe has his whole thing with his parents, Dex was bullied for being the son of a bad match, Tam and Linh were banished… so he's had it easy! He has no right to feel sad when his life is just. so. perfect.
And the thing is, everyone thinks his life is perfect. Especially Keefe! Keefe is always talking about how the Vackers are perfect and lucky and he wishes he was one, when inside, Fitz would secretly rather be Keefe. Even with the whole everything with his parents, at least he doesnt have to be perfect! At least he's allowed to disappoint his parents, because theyre bad parents! And people always like him more. Without fail, Fitz has always felt second to Keefe. Every time he thinks he did good, people go to keefe for being imperfect.
Why did keefe get Alden's praise when he came out second in the level? Fitz barely slept to make sure he came out on top! If Fitz had gotten 98/100, he wouldn't be yelled at, but he'd get a disappointed talk. Why is it different with Keefe, who isnt even Alden's son, why does Alden like him more?
So Fitz ends up spiraling and obsessing more and more.
He can't be imperfect like Keefe, he wouldnt dare. So he does what he can to be as perfect as possible. Maybe he just needs to get a hold on his temper. Wait till he's behind closed doors to do anything but smile. Maybe he needs to eat less, get a perfect number on the scale. Maybe then he'll be good enough.
But he's never good enough.
Nothing he does will ever be good enough.
Keefe is reckless, imperfect, and messy. but even though Fitz does his best to not step a toe out of line, he does everything he can to be perfect...... They keep picking Keefe. without fail, no matter what.
Fitz knows he shohld accept defeat, accept that he'll never be good enough for anyone because of everything he's done to try to be perfect, but he can't stop trying.
He'll keep pushing himself, he'll stay up for hours studying, looking for clues about the Neverseen, going through Alvar's old room, he'll do ANYTHING for someone to say theyre proud of him. For someone to tell him that he did good, for once in his life, but they never notice.
It's never "Wow, you've been working so hard, good job!" or "You look good, did you lose weight?" or "Thanks for helping out, thanks for at least trying"
EVEN THOUGH HE DOES NOTHING BUT TRY. HE'S TRYING SO HARD
Instead, people are saying things like "You look awful, you've got bags under your eyes" (maybe he should put on some makeup to hide that) or "You never join us for dinner, it's like you hate us" (he does. he secretly hates his family so much) or "You've gotten so distant that you're ruining all your relationships with your friends and family" (what else is he supposed to do? they dont like him anyway)
He's driving himself insane over being perfect, only to have people like Sophie say that he's "too perfect." HE JUST CANT WIN!
He's not allowed to make mistakes, but maybe the worst mistake he made was being too perfect!
But how does he stop?
He can't. he trapped himself here. He's convinced he brought this on himself, but he cant get out of this cycle,
And nobody else will get him out,
Because he's not perfect enough.
If they havent noticed his struggling, maybe they dont care enough. But Fitz has gotten so good at hiding it. Nobody will notice until he passes out in the hall or just fucking kills himself because it's too much.
Fitz thinks, why is it that Keefe's allowed to be open about hating himself, and yet as soon as he makes the slightest self deprecating comment, he's suddenly "being dramatic" or "looking for attention"?
And we're back to talking about Keefe again.
None of this is Keefe's fault but he will still feel so so guilty. He felt Fitz's jealousy and hurt when they watched the memory of Alden saying he's proud of him.
Keefe and Fitz are constantly comparing themselves to each other, but by the end of the story, Keefe will be getting the help and support he needs to move on from it. Fitz never showed it and wouldnt dare admit it. So he does not.
Alden and Cassius both seem to prefer the other's son.
Even with Fitz and Biana. There's still a bit of jealousy there, because Biana is starting to seperate herself from her family, and start her own "Vacker Legacy," whatever that means.
After Nightfall, biana has grown more comfortable with herself, she is challenging what it means to be a Vacker, realizing that their family isn't all it's claimed to be. She has no shame in being her fun confident self, and crying when she needs to, and showing off her scars, while if Fitz showed his scars, he'd probably end up in a psych ward or something (or at the very least getting yelled at).
Fitz is jealous of Biana almost as much as he's jealous of keefe. She's never been quite perfect either, but it's always in a good way, isn't it? she's managed to keep her friends (not including the earlier books) and she used to be a bit of a jerk to people, so people can look back and see how far she's come.
Fitz has only gotten worse over the years, and he knows it. he hears what people say in the halls. their whispers hardly hide it. He's presented himself the way he wanted to be - perfect. But it gets harder and harder to hide his imperfections, and people only notice the bad things, don't they? They don't worry, they only judge.
Biana's probably dealing with her own issues, as everyone in the Vacker family does, but she can be more honest about it. She's starting to break the habit of plastering on a smile and saying everything's fine. She's working on her relationship with people. She's like reverse Fitz.
Fitz fears he's going down a similar path of destruction to Alvar, but he counters those fears by being Alden's perfect golden boy like he was always supposed to be. Alden has such a hold on Fitz, he'd do anything for him if Alden worded it right. Ever since he was a kid he always knew he'd do anything to please his parents, even if it was potentially dangerous. But nobody has seemed to even bat an eye when they hear how young Fitz was when he went to the Forbidden Cities. So he must be overreacting, right? Because how could Fitz's childhood be anything less than perfect?
See, when Sophie started learning a little bit about Fitz's past and how things were actually not perfect in the Vacker house, she started to ignore him more and more. She had her other reasons, but to Fitz, it seemed like she was seeing how imperfect he really was, and he's not everything she hoped for. So he panics, and does his best to prove to her that he is the perfect boyfriend she wanted, but it didn't matter anyway because... she. liked. Keefe. better.
And Fitz hates himself so much for wishing he was keefe because Keefe has it so bad with the legacy thing, he hates how he wishes his parents were worse so he didn't feel so guilty every time he made a mistake that would disappoint them.
Not one person in Fitz's life has ever chosen him first. With everyone. There's always someone they love more.
Della loves Biana more, Biana chooses her friends, Sophie chose Keefe, Keefe chose Sophie.
Alden seemed to favor Keefe, or his work, or even just the ways he uses Fitz instead of loving him as his son or as a person. Maybe that's why Fitz is so desperate to listen to Alden, to please him, because he's the only person who seems to even care, even if he only cares when he's doing good or being perfect.
Alvar would choose Biana or Keefe over Fitz any day, even before the betrayal. Fitz still looked up to him, despite his vague dislike for Fitz. He likes Biana better because he thinks she'd understand better what the Vacker legacy is, Because FITZ IS PART OF IT. HE'S ADDING ONTO IT, WHATEVER IT IS!
Yep that's all I have, feel free to add your own ideas :3
tags:
@fitz-avery-vacker @autistic-daydreamer
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sirfrogsworth · 5 months
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FFFF: Froggie's Fuckin' Fancy Foray
In a previous post I was debating whether I should go to the Sam's near me, which requires a short 11 minute drive, but the path to get there is quite stressful due to traffic and construction and frustrating detours onto narrow side streets.
There was even a time when a bunch of signs got knocked over or removed and I accidentally went down an unfinished road that dead-ended into a pile of rocks. That was a fun moment. Especially when people stared at me as I did some improvised off-roading to get turned around.
Like I said... STRESSFUL.
Or I could head the other direction across the river into Illinois.
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A scenic 22 minute drive with empty highways to a much nicer Sam's. The extra 20 minutes of total drive time is a lot, especially after all the walking required to collect my groceries. And I feared it would test my energy limits, since I had to go to Sam's and Schnucks to get all of the groceries I needed. Sam's is great, but sometimes I just don't need seven dozen of something.
I was having a decent energy day, so the scenic route won.
My plan was to go to Sam's for the bulk of my groceries and then drive all the way back across the river, past my house, and go to the Schnucks that stocks my favorite new fancy Fitz's soda. Which would add another 30 minutes of driving. Though I figured if I wasn't feeling up to it, I could go to Schnucks another day.
But as I stood in the Sam's parking lot holding a five dollar rotisserie chicken, an idea struck me... "Maybe there is a Schnucks near here."
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I opened Maps and to my dismay, there was a Schnucks just down the street and for three entire years I never thought to check.
Literally half a mile down the street.
I think we are all familiar with the concept of chain stores varying in quality depending on the area they are located.
There is a Schnucks only 1.2 miles from my home. It is what I would call "tolerable."
Let's deem this location "TS" for Tolerable Schnucks.
TS is clean and has all of the essentials but they try to shove ten pounds of Schnucks into a five pound bag. It is cramped and poorly stocked and the lighting is somehow extra florescent.
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They managed to squeeze in a decent deli, but that is where the niceties end. They usually have one register open even if the checkout line wraps around the dairy section. I have yet to find a less busy time to go. It's always filled to the brim with people—morning, noon, and night.
And, frustratingly, they rarely stock my new botique soda obsession, Fitz's.
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I allow myself one occasional sugary treat to manage the cravings and I never know if they are going to have it.
However, if I travel an extra 15 minutes then I can upgrade to the Schnucks I would call "nice." So we'll go with "NS" for Nice Schnucks.
Weirdly the NS is near the "tolerable" Sam's (no acronym because that would be confusing with Tolerable Schnucks (TS)). They are only 3 minutes apart but the store quality difference is pretty drastic. If I have the energy, I will try to stop at both places in one trip since they are so near each other.
NS is a much bigger store than TS and they even have a bigger selection to go with that extra space. I have to get my fancy soda there because I guess TS figured "let's just fill the aisle with Diet Coke and nothing else." NS has a much bigger deli and full bakery and a fish person and even a quaint little floral department. They usually have multiple registers open and they stay open past 8pm so you can go when it isn't busy. The lighting is a little better, they keep things in stock, and they even have half-sized shopping carts that are easier to push if you only need a few things.
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I thought that was the gold standard for Schnucks.
As nice as it gets.
But then I discovered this new Schnucks near the Nice Sam's and that assertion was about to be shattered.
Let me introduce you to the FFS.
The Fuckin' Fancy Schnucks.
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The first thing you notice at the FFS is the front has well-maintained landscaping. Like, proper shrubbery.
That's fuckin' fancy.
The second you enter the store you are greeted with a fully staffed floral department.
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It felt like if Valentine's Day could manifest a jungle. Brightly colored flowers everywhere surrounded by mylar balloons wishing people happy whatevers.
Then I turned the corner to see the biggest Schnucks of my life. With one entire side of the store dedicated to bespoke food items.
They got a deli. They got a bakery. They got a fish person. They got another fish person who just makes sushi all day.
They have an entire wall of prepared food items made at the store daily. Sandwiches and salads and pastas and full chickens. They even make their own frozen pizzas.
And then I noticed... the Meat Masters.
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They have their own damned butcher on staff!
I found myself just going up and down all of the aisles and discovering new things the other Schnuckses never stock. The soup aisle was ridiculous. I was getting pretty tired and I was paralyzed by too many choices. So I decided to just get my normal boring soups and come back another time to explore the Fancy Soup Section.
The FSS at the FFS, if you will.
And the lighting was just so much more pleasant. It didn't feel like a 90s office building.
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And look at that flooring. Did they hire an interior designer?
TS & NS just have generic square tiles.
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I mean, I guess making some of them blue is something. But even the ceiling is drab comparatively.
And look at the TS Zapp's display compared to the displays at FFS.
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I will say, TS takes much better care of their robot friend. FFS stuck their robot in a very undignified location.
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This Roomba with a giant erection spends all day counting stuff and they stick him next to the men's room? Let him hang out with the Meat Masters or the fish people.
This is how a robot uprising starts.
The soda aisle was at the end of the store so I arrived there last. I was nervous they might not have my beloved bottled soda pop. Not only did they have it, but they also had 4 other flavors I didn't even know existed.
I guess you could say the FFS had an FFFS! (Fuckin' Fancy Fitz's Section)
I got that same feeling when you unlock bonus items in a video game. I don't know what the difference is between cream soda and "cardinal" cream soda... but I'm gonna find out!
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Update from Future Froggie: It's fuckin' tasty!
So...
Future Froggie approves of Fuckin' Tasty Fitz's Soda from the Fuckin' Fancy Fitz's Section at the Fuckin' Fancy Schnucks and is sad Nice Schnucks and Tolerable Schnucks Failed Future Froggie with their Lacking Fancy Fitz's Soda Section.
Or...
FF approves of FTFS from the FFFS at the FFS and is sad NS & TS FFF with their LFFSS.
Got all that?
I loaded up the FTFS and my frozen pizzas and my non-fancy soups and headed over to the registers. They had 3 lanes open despite hardly anyone shopping at the time. I didn't have to wait in the dairy section for 25 minutes. So I justified that extra drive time and then some. Because standing in line is harder than sitting and driving.
So I guess I answered my question about which path to choose. If only I had known about the FFS earlier I would have forgone NS and Tolerable Sam's and just drove the extra 20 minutes across the Mississippi River to and from MO & IL.
On the one hand, it is kind of depressing that just like public schools, property taxes dictate the quality of vital stores in our communities. I mean, these are stores run by the same company. I know the physical property can necessitate some variation due to size and configuration differences. But it's clear they are pumping a lot more resources into the FFS. Not just more cashiers with a bagger on every lane, but actual experts in flowers and fish and baking and deli.
And who knows how much a MoM costs. (Master of Meat)
On the other hand...
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We live in a society and can't fix capitalism overnight and all that.
I need my FTFS and FSS at the FFS, okay?
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fickleartdump · 29 days
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ROTE tarot cards- first six in a set I'm making. I don't really do tarot-y stuff myself but I saw what people had done in other fandoms ans my brain went "ooooh, pretty symbolism." Note that the Fool card features Fitz, because, well, he fits it better, and I have a feeling Beloved will be showing up on a lot of cards in the future if I continue making these. Individual cards below with better resolution
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oliversrarebooks · 18 days
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roger, whats it like being fitz's thrall? (aka how does it feel to be living my dream... im not jealous... totally not living vicariously through you...)
Masterlist
January 1922
TW: mind control, conditioning, blood drinking mentions of past abuse, fear of death
"You have to get up, sir." 
Roger gently shook the lump of tangled blankets and sheets that most likely contained a vampire at its core. The only real indication that his master was within was the soft groan from inside, a mumble that sounded a lot like "leave me alone."
"I can't leave you alone, sir. You have a show at 7, remember? If you don't rise and shine soon, you won't have enough time to do your hair and makeup and make it to the theater."
"Uggggggh. Why'd I schedule a show so goddamned early? What is wrong with me?" The pile of blankets huddled in on itself more tightly.
"...I suspect there may be several things, sir," said Roger, unable to resist the obvious opening and knowing that a bit of banter might put his master in a better mood. "Regardless, you did schedule the show, and you do need to leave the house for it."
"Horrible. Torturous. Excruciating." The bedclothes rustled, and Fitz poked his head out just enough to take a look. "It's so early that the sun is leaking around the curtains! The sun could kill me, Roger, you can't expect me to get up in those conditions. I could die."
"I believe that's what the curtains are for, sir. To prevent you from dying when you're unjustly forced to wake up during the day." Roger sat down on the side of the bed. He'd done this often enough to know when he was in for the long haul, and he was quite capable of patience -- a good quality to have when serving Fitz. "You were looking forward to this show, weren't you? It's a large venue, and you have your new rotating box trick."
"Mmm."
"I'm sure it will go over splendidly, sir, and you'll be afforded all the praise and applause you deserve," he said. Cheap flattery rarely failed to soften his master's mood. "Aren't you looking forward to seeing the looks of delight on your audience's faces when you perform your new trick? And besides that, aren't you looking forward to being paid?"
Fitz seemed to be lowering both his blankets and his guard. "I suppose so..."
"Excellent. Then forgive me for this, sir." Roger grabbed the covers and pulled them away, as his master produced a sound not unlike a dying cat.
With lightning fast reflexes, the blankets were wrenched from Roger's grasp, and Fitz was clutching them to himself and huddling in the middle of the bed. "How could you? How could my own thrall do such a thing? Heartless, you're simply heartless." He curled up under the blankets and stubbornly closed his eyes as if to go back to sleep.
"Of the two of us, sir, it's technically you who is heartless." Roger sighed. It was always most difficult to wake Fitz in the dead of winter. The long nights enticed his master to stay out too late sampling the city's nightlife, and the cold made him especially reluctant to leave his chambers, which, thanks to the radiators, were as hot as a furnace.
He reached down to the blankets, intending to tug on them again. This time, despite Fitz pretending to sleep, he was faster than Roger, and grasped his wrist.
Roger felt a delicious, drowsy warmth coming from his master's touch, filling his mind with cotton candy haze. It was blissfully dreamy and intoxicating, and, most dangerously, it was sleep-inducing, enticing him to shut his weary eyes and rest.
"Go back to sleep, Roger," Fitz lulled. "Curl up here. Keep me warm..."
Roger was swaying on the spot, eyelids drooping, rapidly losing himself to enchanted slumber -- but he'd been caught by this trap on plenty of occasions, and each time it ended with Fitz regretful that he'd overslept and missed his obligations. It was that memory that kept Roger just awake enough to wrench his arm away and mostly free himself from his master's dangerous temptation. Fitz was making sad little grabbing motions as Roger moved out of range of his hands.
"I'm afraid that if you wish to use your powers on me, you'll have to leave your bed to do so, sir," said Roger, standing several feet away. "The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can get to the pleasant business of washing up." They both knew that it was a bluff. Roger had been under Fitz's thrall for many years now, and his master didn't need hypnotic touch to compel him, body and soul. But it was a bluff that usually worked.
"Fine, fine, you win." With one final dramatic groan, Fitz threw off the covers and sat up. "I'll take my shower, then. But I expect you to attend to me when I'm finished."
"Of course, sir." Roger watched as his master stumbled into the bathroom, and in a moment he could hear the sound of running water and upbeat humming. Fitz loved long, warm showers as much as he loved rolling around lazily in bed. He'd spend at least a half-hour relaxing in the steamy waters and performing his elaborate and ever-changing skin care routine, one which involved enough distinct products as to cover most of the vanity table.
This gave Roger plenty of time to make the perpetually disheveled bed, the foot-high pile of blankets, and the mountain of pillows in every shape and size. He made quick work of it, picked up the dirty clothes that had been tossed on the floor yesterday morning. 
Housekeeping was Roger's primary responsibility apart from providing blood and humoring Fitz's varied whims. With only the two of them in a reasonably sized flat, it wasn't especially difficult or time-consuming compared to when he'd lived on his own, before he'd been snatched off the street by a vampire. He'd even come to enjoy the simple chores. He wasn't sure how much of that was due to his own feelings or to Fitz's coercion -- his master grasping his shoulders and softening Roger's mind, whispering to him how much he loved to serve.
Really, it hardly mattered any more.
When he'd finished tidying up, Roger got down to the business of setting out his master's clothes. Serving Fitz was really about anticipating his moods more than anything else. With a large venue, he'd want something particularly flashy -- something on the warmer side for a chill day -- deep blue, perhaps?
The door to the bathroom cracked open, Roger's signal to enter.
The steam was blinding, mixed with the almost overwhelming scent of flowers, as Roger entered. Fitz was fussing with his hair, as usual, despite not being able to see it in the mirror. "You simply must help me out with this," he said.
"Of course, sir," said Roger, taking the comb from him. This was a ritual they performed nearly every night Fitz went out. Even as the years went by and Fitz grew from a young vampire to a seasoned one, he still seemed so irritated at not being able to see himself in the mirror, sometimes requiring excessive reassurance from Roger that he was still handsome.
Tonight, though, his master seemed deep in his own head as Roger ran the comb through his hair, taking some pomade in hand to smooth it back. He pulled the longer hair into a neat tail, the sort of style usually reserved for unsavory sorts, but then, Fitz didn't mind presenting himself as a bit unsavory. Roger's tense shoulders relaxed as faint hypnotic power flowed from his master's proximity, fogging his mind at the same time it increased his desire to help fix Fitz's brooding.
"Is everything all right, sir?"
Fitz seemed startled back into the waking world by the question. "Of course," he said with his fake smile plastered firmly to his face. "Just running through the show in my head. If I'm going to be dragged out of my bed and into the cold this early, it had better be worth it."
"I'm sure it will be, sir. You're looking quite handsome this evening."
"Obviously," he said, lacking the usual cheer that punctuated their banter.
With Fitz's hair squared away, the two then left the bathroom for Roger to assist dressing him. "While the rest of this outfit is acceptable, this bowtie is just not..." Fitz seemed to be fishing around, thinking of what could be wrong with the bowtie, clearly eager to find some minor fault to distract himself from his own worries. "It's blue, isn't it? You can't have blue on a night that's already cold and gloomy, that won't do. It must be red. The color of excitement and passion!"
"I don't know what I was thinking, sir," Roger deadpanned, picking up the blue bowtie that Fitz had tossed aside and fetching one of his half-a-dozen red ones.
Fitz allowed Roger to fit him with the new selection. "That's why you should leave the thinking to me."
"I'm not so sure about that, sir."
That got a genuine smile from his master. "Come now, when has that ever not worked out?" he said. "With this outfit and your expert attention to my hair, I'm sure tonight's show will be an absolute triumph."
"There's not a single doubt in my mind, sir."
As Roger adjusted his master's cummerbund, Fitz leaned in a bit more, in an unsubtle fashion. The undercurrent of tension Roger had felt all night bloomed into something more recognizable: hunger. His master desired his blood, and, as always, Roger felt himself falling into a pleasurable daze, one where all thoughts fled from his mind apart from offering himself to his master.
"I think I'll need to feed from you when I return. You don't mind, do you?" Fitz whispered in his ear.
"No, master," said Roger, shivering involuntarily. "It's my pleasure to serve you."
"And it's my pleasure to feed," he said, grinning with his fangs bared. "Yes, I think that'll be just the thing to lift my spirits. Something to look forward to after the show."
"Yes, sir. I'll also look forward it." He meant that -- he had long since given up being troubled by his desire for vampiric feedings. He'd felt that desire even for his previous master's painful, harsh feedings, and it was far easier to accept Fitz's gentle trance of bliss.
A few minutes later and Roger had wrangled a semi-unwilling vampire into two layers of winter coat and sent him on his way. Sometimes Roger went along with Fitz to the theater, to help with makeup or hair or just for support purposes, but just as often he was left behind to his own devices. 
He didn't mind either way. It was nice to have a few hours to himself. He often spent the bulk of the time painting, something he'd never gotten to do much of even before he was taken by vampires. He wanted to eat breakfast first, though, especially given that his master might be feeding later.
Roger did hope he was. Sometimes he instead chose to feed on his volunteer from the audience, and that was always a bit of a disappointment, denying Roger the opportunity to fulfill his primary purpose in life. But Fitz seemed interested in feeding at home, and if he was going to do that, it would behoove Roger to be well-fed.
Soon enough, a generous portion of ham and eggs was sizzling on the stove. Fitz had made a promise early on that he'd always keep Roger fed, and although he forgot and broke promises all the time, he hadn't broken that one. Unlike his previous master, he never punished Roger with starvation -- a particularly spiteful punishment, since it also seemed to lower the quality of Roger's blood. His previous master did seem to enjoy punishment more than feedings.
When Roger's former master had been destroyed in a duel, Roger had assumed he was going from bad to worse. That feeling had grown stronger when he'd been dragged to a secondhand thrall appraiser and his worth was assessed at far lower than it had been when he'd first been bought. At the time, Roger had been little better than a beaten dog, cringing at every sound, barely daring to speak or think. He'd lost hope for anything better.
And, well, Fitz was far from the savior he'd often imagined during those days. He was still a vampiric master, a dramatic one whose moods changed like the wind. He could still effortlessly control Roger's mind, and he made Roger do all the chores in the house. Roger still wasn't free.
But rather than beatings and torture, Fitz's "punishments" generally amounted to snippy words and extra chores. There was always food, and he was allowed to paint and read and relax. His master might have a terrible habit of tossing out every piece of clothing in his closet when choosing what to wear and then telling Roger to clean it all up, but compared to what life had been like...
He hoped that Fitz came home safe. He'd strongly prefer to not change hands again, even if it meant dragging a protesting vampire out of bed each night for the rest of his life.
Roger had busied himself painting a bird from an illustration in a nature book when he heard the front door creak. "It's goddamn cold out there! Windy, too."
"Welcome home, sir," said Roger, helping his master out of his frigid coats. He was pleased to see Fitz in a better mood than when he'd left. "I take it your show went well?"
"Of course! Didn't you say there wasn't a single doubt in your mind?" he said with a grin as he kicked off his shoes, leaving Roger to line them up neatly in the shoe rack. "The crowd loved it! The spinning box trick is a real winner -- I just need to think of some ways to jazz it up further -- perhaps doing up the box in spangles to really dazzle them..." 
He shook himself out of his train of thought, seeming to remember Roger was there. "All of that applause did have me work up an appetite, though," he said, stepping close and brushing his hand against Roger's. Roger could feel the influence flowing through him, stoking his need for the feeding. "Why don't you go start the fire? That and your blood will provide me with some warmth tonight, I think."
So he was going to feed. Roger tried to keep his face neutral to preserve a scrap of dignity. "Very good, sir."
Roger allowed himself to hum a bit of a jaunty tune as he stacked wood in the fireplace and lit the kindling, using the bellows to raise the fire higher. He could hear his master making a commotion in the bathroom, likely getting out of his fine clothes and washing off the stage makeup. By the time Fitz arrived in the parlor, the fire was crackling merrily.
"Ahhhhh," said Fitz, sprawling out onto the old leather couch and beckoning Roger close. "This is the life, isn't it, Roger?"
"It certainly is, sir."
"Well, I suppose I'm not technically alive. The point still stands."
His master put his hand to Roger's cheek, and Roger sank into the mind-numbing bliss that came from his power, the familiar sense of captivation and contentment. As always, he could feel his master's desire to feed, and as he dropped deeper into a trance, his hands came up to unbutton his shirt and pull his collar away.
"You really are an excellent thrall," said Fitz, and Roger soaked in both the praise and the sense of security that came from pleasing his master. "Now just relax and let me have what I need."
Sharp fangs punctured the old scars that would never heal, and Roger's pliable mind slipped further as his master began to drink. There was nothing but bliss and contentment and hunger and need --
-- and, as always when his master was anxious, the sound of ticking clocks and the undercurrent of a lonely void.
Perhaps the good reception to his show hadn't brightened his mood as much as Roger had thought.
Fitz drank hungrily as if to fill that void with his thrall's blood, and Roger could feel his senses buckling, his vision tunneling and his eyelids growing heavy. His master was overdrinking again. "Sir," Roger managed to say as he fought to stay awake. "Sir -- sir, you're --"
"Oh!" His master mercifully stopped. "Damn it, I'm sorry, Roger. I don't mean to do that, you know I don't."
"I know you don't," Roger parroted in a dazed voice, slumping against his master's shoulder, allowing his eyes to close now that the danger had passed.
Someday, his master was probably going to kill him. He'd drink too much blood, and Roger would fail to stop him in time, collapsing into his master's arms and closing his eyes for the last time.
But tonight was not that night, and Roger was glad of it.
Masterlist
@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme
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toffeeanddragons · 2 months
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10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 Tags
Thank you so much @idle-brit for tagging me!This was lots of fun :) 💖
My tags: @delyth88, @elymusplant, @galaxythreads, @chemical-processes. No pressure to answer, of course :)
1. Loki (MCU)
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As much as I love everyone on this list, there is absolutely no competition for number 1. Loki has been my favourite character of all time for nearly 6 years now (because clearly the best time to join someone's fandom is after they've just been murdered), and is showing absolutely no signs of being replaced anytime soon. I have a Loki blog, for god's sake. The brodinsons are my favourite relationship in any kind of media, ever. I love them so, so much. Loki's a million different things and feelings, all at the same time, all fighting with each other, which makes for a wonderfully complex and nuanced character. Also, he's hilarious. Look at that eye roll. This is a man who hates his life, which makes me feel better about mine. Thanks, Loki.
2. Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)
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As will become obvious throughout this list, I love me an emotionally traumatised crazy person. Klaus is that. One of the characters who makes me laugh the most, ever, show-stopping dress sense, and a bucketload of unresolved trauma which goes largely ignored by Klaus, the other characters and the narrative itself? It was love at first sight. Their banter with the other characters, especially Ghost Ben (rip) is one of my favourite aspects of the show. Here's to hoping that Klaus won't be getting the Allison treatment in season 4!
3. Pippa Fitz-Amobi (A Good Girl's Guide to Murder)
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I binge-read the entire AGGTM series earlier this year, and instantly fell in love with it. Pip is one of my favourite protagonists ever. Impossibly clever, compassionate, obsessive, badass, and a teensy bit unhinged. What's not to love? I would die for her. I'd say that I'd kill for her, but I think she's got that covered. I think she's written in a very realistic way, firstly as a genius 17 year old girl who doesn't really know what she's getting into, and later as a haunted individual who wants to stop investigating but can't. The way she politely knocks on people's front doors to dig up their traumas, accuse them of murder and all-round ruin their lives is everything to me. She is my blorbo. I am so, so excited for the show to come out, and I'm sure that Emma Myers will do a wonderful job as Pip!
4. Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)
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One of the best-written characters, in one of the best-written series ever. Reading from her perspective is such a delight- she's endlessly suspicious of everyone around her, constantly on survival mode, trusting very few people and relying on exactly no one (to begin with, at least). She's a random teenage girl, from the poorest district, and she wins the Hunger Games. She's so mentally unstable that she has to be sedated, and still she's made to be the face of a rebellion. She's rude, and kind of unlikeable. She adopts all the weakest tributes, at risk to herself, knowing that they won't win. She's doomed to fail by the narrative. She's the it girl of 2010s dystopian YA fiction. Jennifer Lawrence is an amazing actress, who does a beautiful job portraying the depth and conflict of Katniss in the films. The themes and social commentary of the Hunger Games is one of its (many) strong points, and I am so so glad that people are talking about it again, because it is my favourite book series out there.
5. Mitchell Pritchett (Modern Family)
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I have no idea what to say about this man, I just love him. He just like me fr. What an icon. Impeccable music taste. I've started saying, "no my god" now, and nobody understands what I'm talking about. Even in a sitcom, my favourite is the one with issues that he refuses to talk about or fix. The episode where he's trying to hide that he dressed up as spiderman makes me cry-laugh. Claire's speech at his wedding makes me just cry. He's not a perfect man, but he's certainly better than everyone else.
6. Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die)
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My favourite cringefail loser! I said Katniss was doomed by the narrative in a metaphorical way. This idiot is actually doomed.
No but in all seriousness, I do really love him. Before the beginning of the game, he was just a relatively normal young man- but, when confronted with the inevitability of his own death, he made himself into a monster to survive. He has a violent vendetta against the local badass teenage girl, who is traumatised as hell already and does not need Shin chipping in as well, thank you very much. I love his relationship with Kanna, his biological sister; how he uses her, manipulates her, and still cares for her so much that he dies for her with a smile on his face in the Emotion route. Conversely, in the Logic route, his actions are a direct cause of her death, and I just love how much YTTD hates siblings. I hope that his past with Midori is explored more in either a mini-episode or the final part of the game, because I find it sooo interesting. I'm super excited to see whether he actually has no chance of survival, or whether he makes it out, against the odds, on one of the routes. He's a bit useless, so I won't get my hopes up.
7. Rue Bennett (Euphoria)
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I think it goes without saying that Euphoria has its issues, lol. Sam Levinson is an idiot. While a lot of the show (especially season 2) feels shallow and like it doesn't care about its characters, Rue's storylines always have heart and depth and I am so invested in her arc. It's no wonder that Zendaya won 2 Emmys for this role, because her acting is phenomenal! Rue feels so real to me, in the way that she's trying so hard to stay sober but she falls down and relapses time and time again. Recovery isn't linear, but she's getting there, and I adore her with all my heart. Her relationships with Lexi, her mother, her sister, and her sponsor, Ali, are my favourites, and the healthiest for her, in my opinion. Her brief friendship/ romance with Jules may have kept her more solidly sober than anything else in the show, but Jules (understandably) cracks under the pressure of Rue's mental health, and can't be there for her. Rue needs to heal for herself, which she appears to be doing at the end of S2.
8. Max Mayfield (Stranger Things)
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Duffer brothers, please just let her be happy.
Despite only being introduced in Season 2, Max has, in my opinion, had the best character development out of everyone on the show. Her growth from someone standoffish, rude, and uninterested in the group (maybe I'm being a bit harsh. She was, like, 12) to someone who is willing to risk her life to help her friends and Hawkins means so much to me. The scene in "Dear Billy" (S4, Ep4) where she escapes from Vecna remains my favourite in the whole show and will probably be burned into my brain forever. Her relationships with Lucas and El are very sweet, and some of my favourites in Stranger Things. Her final line in S4, after all her struggles over the season, being that she doesn't want to die literally breaks my heart. I hope she gets some degree of a happy ending in the final season. She was my first profile picture when I joined this hellsite, and I love her a lot.
9. Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables)
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The shenanigans that this girl gets up to never fail to make me laugh. The bit where she accidentally dyes her hair green and then has to hack it all off makes me feel awful for her, but. it's hilarious. Sorry, Anne. Her friendship with Diana is so sweet but also so funny to me because they really are the most chaotic duo of the 1880s. The scene where Anne accidentally gives her alcohol instead of fruit juice is so mortifying but so, so funny. Amidst all of the insane situations that Anne gets into are a lot of really heartwarming moments and relationships. Matthew and Marilla adopting Anne, even though they wanted a boy, because she's so endearing and alone in the world is probably what made me who I am today. I still haven't gotten around to watching Anne with an E, but I've heard it's amazing. I look forward to watching it when I have the time :).
10. Daphne Blake (Scooby Doo)
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My first ever favourite character! Another one who I don't have a tonne to say about. She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment. She has done nothing wrong, ever. She knows martial arts, so watch out.
Honourable mentions: Thor (MCU), Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games), Gretchen Weiners (Mean Girls), Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99), Maurice Moss (The IT Crowd), The Eleventh Doctor (Doctor Who), James (The End of the F***ing World), Ali Abdul (Squid Game).
If you read all of this then thanks, and have a great day!
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Fix You - Chapter 14: Enjoy the Silence
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Gif by @hunterschafer
Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader
Fic Masterlist
Read on A03
Spotify Playlist
»»———————►
Chapter Summary: The final heat...
Word Count: 7k
Rating: R
Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.
A/N: Has it really been a year? I wish I had a better excuse than "I haven't been doing great." But that's what it is. I've had huge changes in my life. New job, new career, new goals, and a greater sense of self-worth. I'm feeling a lot better. But my new schedule is busy! Hopefully you can forgive me for such a long cliffhanger.
Finally, a heads up. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.
I also did the absolute most and made a specific playlist just for this chapter here.
Forever thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, shared, boosted, made content for, and supported me. It meant a lot and definitely kept this fic in the back of my mind. As always, most love to my girl @musings-of-a-rose who has tolerated me being a shitty friend for a whole ass year, and always talking things through with me in life and in this fic. Cheers.
Suggested Songs: Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence", Fitz and the Tantrums: "Out of My League", Lizzo "Truth Hurts", Michael Kiwanuka "Cold Little Heart", Cigarettes After Sex "Cry", Guster "Demons"
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Frankie and you decided to break your apartment lease starting October 1st. Fall term started on the 30th of August, and you wanted time to settle into your schedule before planning a move. You spent almost all your time at his house anyway, only stopping back at your apartment for more clothes. Frankie had already given you a row of drawers to keep your things in.
You’d honestly never been happier, both on cloud 9 and it never faded, you were incredibly excited to begin this new start with Frankie and Gabi. It all seemed to have happened so fast. It had only been five months, you hadn’t even told your family about him yet, mostly to avoid comments on the age gap. 
You were relieved the hiccup in your relationship settled, you didn’t like feeling unsure or that someone resented you. When you started feeling secure again, you clung to it. That sparkle of joy was hard to keep in check.
You picked your Fall schedule out together and spent the remaining weeks of summer basking in your relationship, playing with Gabi, going out with the guys, and constant fucking. But your most favorite thing was still lying on the couch with Frankie, teasing each other and watching bad TV.
“This is simultaneously the best and worst movie I have ever seen in my life. I don’t understand how they achieved this.”
Frankie shrugs, reaching to your lap for the giant bowl of popcorn, his eyes still glazed to the TV where Mad Max: Fury Road is playing. “I dunno. Who cares? It’s cars and chaos!”
“And Tom Hardy. And Charlize Theron.”
He pinches you on the waist, acting threatened by your thirst just to tease you. “You ever been to a demo derby? This kind of reminds me of it.”
You sit up from where your back is resting against his chest. “Um, no? Isn’t that kind of…for rednecks?”
He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Benny and Will are rednecks. But no, it’s for anyone who likes cars crashing into each other. There’s actually one at the fair every year. We always go to it. You should come.”
“I’m not going to a demo derby.”
“Aw come on! It’ll be fun! First time for Gabi too, and there’s rides and games and funnel cake and fried oreos—” He pauses as you hold your hand up to silence him.
“I’ll go. You had me at ‘funnel cake.’”
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The fair is packed. The final hurrah of the summer before kids return to school and university students dive back into their studies. The derby started at 8 PM sharp, you, Dali, and the boys got there plenty early to look around a bit, get some food, and find seats.
You forgo any typical entree and go right for the funnel cake, heaping fruit and extra powdered sugar on it until the plate is a big mound of sweet. The guys had talked you up on this for days, Benny wouldn’t shut up about it, and you found yourself excited to watch. Your legs bounce impatiently as you scarf down your cake, breaking off pieces here and there to feed to Gabi and your boys.
The seats were bleachers, hard metal planks that hurt your butt and back and caught vibration from every footfall, but Pope sat behind you so you could lean back against his legs to be more comfortable. 
It’s a long wait. The bleachers eventually fill up, you certainly had the best seat in the house (thank you Will), and you could see the hoods up of participating cars behind the commentator podium. The air is musty, the odor of wet dirt from a quick August shower earlier that day.
When the first round of vehicles start revving their engines, Frankie pulls some earphones for Gabi and secures it to her head. Once he’s sure she’s comfortable, he quickly runs you through the basic rules. “So there’s several ‘heats’, and which heat you’re in is based on how many cylinders the car has. Last car moving is the winner, but you can’t just avoid the other cars the whole time. No continuing if your car starts sparking from the engine, no hitting the driver side door, and no hitting anyone who’s already out.” 
“Wait, cars catch on fire in this?”
Before Frankie can answer, the announcer calls out the first heat and you almost choke at the state of the cars coming out. They were completely dilapidated, windows punched out and hood frames reinforced with extra steel. It looked like each entry had about 5 different parts all from different cars, horrendous paint jobs, and one of them even had a stuffed dinosaur duct taped to the hood. Some of them looked like they had already been hit by cars, parts hanging off and bumpers pressing in on itself. None of these cars would last at all. There’s no way...
The rink was surrounded by giant cement cinder blocks creating a large “rink” type area. The contestants lined the front bumpers of their vehicles up parallel to each other at the barricades separating the cars from the bleachers, alternately revving their engines during the countdown.
“Okay, so, usually we all pick the car we think is going to win.” Benny says. You lean forward to look over the assortment of jacked up cars for this heat, eventually settling on an old Toyota Corolla painted a matte black. Benny chooses the dino car, Will chooses a Dodge Stealth with it’s headlights hanging outside the socket, Dali and Pope argue over a Ford Taurus whose back end was already smashed into the back seats, and Frankie chooses a Chevy Impala, which you immediately regret not taking because it has such a long front and back end. Lots of room for smashing and being able to keep going.
Gabi jumps up and down on Frankie’s lap as he points out things to her over the sounds of engines and a countdown, and then the cars are off off, engines roaring and dirt kicking up as they all reverse at full speed, several of them crunching up in the middle while others circle around the perimeters.
It soon becomes clear to you that there is no rhyme or reason to which car makes it and which doesn’t. Pope’s Taurus didn’t even start and is eliminated after 2 minutes of no movement, and whoever is driving the boxy piece of shit Honda Accord that Dali had to select is a fucking maniac, winding and weaving at full speed backwards, hitting whoever gets in their way. Her choice is the winner of that heat. 
Most of them are driving backwards, and Will tells you it’s because they are trying to protect the engine. You deflate in your seat a little in disappointment, but he assures you that as the heat winds down and there's fewer cars taking up the space, the drivers and announcer will get impatient and they will hit each other head to head.
You’re shocked at how much you enjoy it. At one point a car hits the passenger side door of another so hard that it is pushed up and onto the barricade wall from the inertia, hanging from an angle as the crowd jeers and shrieks in excitement. One car flips over completely, another’s engine bursts into flames and the crowd all starts crying out caution because the announcer can’t see it. You’ve never seen anything like it before and there was so much fire you were sure the whole thing would blow up, but the driver slid out the glassless driver’s side window like it was no big deal and walked it off.
There is something satisfying about two cars hitting each other at full speed, the bodies of them crunching, wheels hanging off axles, bumpers being dragged behind and run over by other drivers, cars with mangled pieces becoming stuck to each other so they can’t separate until another car hits them, tires completely gone and cars only moving on its hubs. It’s chaos in a safe format, a way to experience destruction and violence in a way that feels good and unharmful. 
Gabi has never been so amazed in her entire life, her mouth hangs open and she wriggles against her dad to see everything, laughing every time a collision happens. The audience oohs and ahhs and boos and screams and cheers and teases, you and your friends join the clamor as you have your own mini competition with yourselves.  
Giant fork tractors come into the arena area to lift the cars that can’t move anymore, some guys are able to get theirs back up and running, driving them to the sides to shape up for the final Battle Royale.
The final heat is fucking wild. All the cars that were already battered enough before they even began to come back out, returned to do another round for the final winner. With all the action you’d barely even noticed that contestants whose cars were still driveable had spent the remaining heats beyond the barricades hammering and reforming their vehicles enough to compete again. 
And at the end, the winner of all faces the crowd, pulls off their helmet to reveal a thick curly mass of long hair.  The winner is a woman. You and Dali cheer until your throats hurt.
It’s over too soon. There’s a mass exodus the instant the derby is over, the packed stadium standing and pouring down the stairs pressing so tight that you and your boys decide to hang back until it thins out. You lead the way, Frankie’s large and warm hand grazing your waist as you slowly move down the stairs and back out into the fair, turning to wait for the rest of your friends to make it out.
“What next?” Benny says when you are all reunited. “More food? Games? Rides?”
“I’m not eating more before getting on rides, let's do those now.” Says Frankie, grumbling as he hears you tease him with Benny. He whips his head around to glare at you. “Just you wait until you get older and start getting sick on rides, I cannot wait to make fun of you back.”
The wait for the ride tickets is long, but it leaves plenty of time for the group to decide how many are needed. Who is riding what, who isn’t, what pairings and who will watch Gabi on the rides she can’t do. You’re surprised when Will and Pope back out of the Zipper, leaving you and Benny as a pairing for that.
Riding it was a mistake. The ride is basically a giant airborne conveyer belt with completely enclosed containers for people hanging off it that were 360 degree capable. And it lasted FOREVER. You lose some of your funnel cake behind the ride out of sight, threatening violence on Benny if he outs you to the others. 
But it didn’t stop you from riding The Freak Out immediately afterwards, a rotating pendulum swing that made you feel like you were going to be catapulted out of your seat. The ride seated 4 groups of 4 so that in between squeezing your eyes shut, you could catch watery glimpses of Benny red-faced and cackling hysterically, Will’s chants of “ohfuckohfuckohfuckOHfuckOHFUCKOHSHIT FUCCCCCCK!”, and Frankie looking…absolutely fine. It was almost disturbing really, he was calm and collected, the only hint that this might have been something other than a nice drive in his truck was his giant smile, the tears leaking from his squinted eyes, his chocolate curls whipping around in the breeze as his hands clutch his hat in his lap with a steel grip.
“How the fuck were you so calm?!” You gasp as you stumble off the rickety landing platform. You hadn’t moved yet you felt like you had run a mile, your heart was beating so fast from the adrenaline it almost felt like you might have a heart attack. 
Frankie shrugs. “Feels like a copter in a bad air current.” 
You simply stare blinking. 
“No, he’s always like this. Like this one time, we were flying in a helo over the Andes mountains, and—”
A sharp stare from Frankie that he tries to hide from you makes Benny backpedal. 
“Uhhh yea we were flying over some mountains and the air current was wild but we got over the mountains just fine and everything was fine and we were fine.”
Your heart seizes in your chest, that same feeling of not being told something creeping up. You hate it. You push it back down, swallowing heavily to center yourself. “So I assume you were fine.”
“Yea. Yea. Cat is a good pilot.” 
You hum, the panic still not leaving your chest.
Frankie grabs your hand as you walk. “It happened a lot, I just got used to it.”
“It happened a lot?”
“Yea. I mean, sometimes we were flying through shit climates, sometimes even pursued. Doesn’t make for a smooth ride. I’m just used to it. They always scream bloody murder though.” Frankie smiles softly.
“Oh.”
You go silent, continuing to walk to the next destination: the scrambler. You had already established you would not ride and Dali wanted some funnel cake herself, so she heads off while you stay off to the side with Gabi to watch, lost in your own thoughts.
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“Just don’t fucking talk about that, none of that. That never happened.” Frankie seethes to Benny as they are strapped into the ride. 
“Sorry dude, I can’t read your thoughts. I figured she knew.”
“No. I don’t want her to know. No one else needs to know about it.”
Benny falls silent, looking to Will beside him. Pope lowers his head, choosing to say nothing.
“Catfish…you have to.” Says Will.
“No the fuck I don’t. I never want her to know. If she knows…she’ll actually see ‘real me’. ‘Fuck-up me.” And I don't want her to yet. I don’t want to lose her yet. I don’t want her to be afraid. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”
They stop. But only because the ride starts, and they can’t see anything other than blurs.
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You hate this feeling, this fluttering in your stomach like something is wrong but your heart knows, it knows it’s fine. It has to be. Your mind is spinning, trying to combat the rising anxiety clenching in your chest, doing gymnastics to find reasons to not be alarmed.
He’s not lying about something. He’s not. …He promised….I’m just overthinking this…
You can’t. You refuse to even think about it. Confronting the terrible possibility that you might’ve done it again, you might have thrown yourself all in to someone only to—-no. 
He’s not lying. He’s not. …He promised….he’s different. I’m just overthinking this…
You can feel butterflies bubbling in your stomach and you feel like you might throw up. Fucking men. You huff in frustration and try to distract yourself with your surroundings, watching people on rides, sharing funnel cake. Your eyes scan over two men staring at you silently by a skewered chicken cart and in your current mood it makes you furious. “What the fuck are you staring at?!” You growl at them. They say nothing and slowly walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Fucking. Men.
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You try not to let your emotions show. You sit back while Gabi goes on some rides for her age, using the time to rehydrate and calm yourself down. Living through Gabi’s joy helps.. She’s having a blast, choosing a different person to pair with for each time ride. Pope in the Wacky House, the Helicopters with her dad, Benny on the mini Viking ship. Once you feel better you join in to play bumper cars (Will and Gabi win) and ride the high-rise swings with her seated in the cool metal chair next to you, Benny singing along to the ambient speakers playing “Out of My League” so loud eventually all the other teens on the ride join in.You enjoy the mini coaster more than you thought you would considering it’s for kids Gabi’s age, you and Dali are the only others who can fit in the seats, no matter how hard Benny tried. It was easy to quickly forget.
After the coaster, Gabi begins to slow down, so you hit the fried oreo stand, paying for several batches despite protestation and alternately feeding everyone as the group slowly walks through the agricultural parts of the fair. It’s calmer here, the air warm and quiet. The pathway is less crowded so Gabi is able to frolic around on the walkway in front of you safely. 
You walk through every barn, stopping to pet every animal. She’s a natural with them. Completely fearless, not one flicker of apprehension as she approaches cows and horses that are easily 6 times her height, paying close attention to her dad in how to not spook them. Everyone finds the goats to be the favorite because of the sounds they make. Even more so when Frankie engages in a screaming contest back and forth with a bunch of them until someone shoos them out of the pavilion.
Soon, all the sugar Gabi consumed rears its ugly head in the rabbit barn, she throws a fit when Frankie won’t let her get a pet rabbit and you only just catch her upper arm in time to keep her from collapsing on the filthy barn floor. You’re surprised she held out so long. Even you were crashing and getting tired. Also, the rabbits were ridiculously cute.
“Listen Gabi, how about we ride the ferris wheel? Would you like that?” You kneel before her, swiping the tears off her cheeks as she catches her breath. “It goes really high! Higher than the swings!” She nods, sniffing in a snot bubble as she takes your hand. The two of you lead the way, and as you get closer and closer, you start to regret your decision. 
It’s much taller than the Freak Out. By more than 100 feet. It doesn’t look very stable either.
“Wait...this…this looks kind of high, don’t you think?” You turn to the guys, trying to conceal the wavering in your voice. You were scared enough at 70 feet. This was more like 200.
“Height requirement says she’s fine. And it’s enclosed, goes really slow. Come on.” Frankie takes you by the hand and your heart leaps into your throat, your feet skidding across the lawn as you try to pull back. 
A light shove pushes you forward and you turn to glare at Will as he smirks down at you. “If you don’t go I’m never going to let you hear the end of it. Not after you called us “old and broken down.”
Well shit.
“Fine.”
You’re shaking when it’s your turn, the group mad dashing to three cars next to each other so you could talk throughout. Benny pairs with Pope, Gabi is vibrating with excitement as she’s put into a carriage by Will and Dali, and Frankie is beaming as he motions you towards the left car. He pats your butt as you gingerly step in, waiting until you’re seated before joining you and taking your hand. 
“Babe…are you okay?”
You swallow, grateful it’s dark enough he can’t see you trembling. “Yep. I’m good.” 
He leans forward in his seat, the glowing phosphorescence of the lights of the ride and around the fair bathing him halfway in a multicolored glow. tThe colors and shadows fold into the angles of his face like rainbow chiaroscuro, an angular stained glass window. He takes your hand again, yours is swallowed in his palm and you close your eyes as he rubs his thumb across the top. The dark beat of Depeche Mode pounds against your chest and echoes in your ears and you briefly imagine this is what it must feel like to drop acid.
“Your hands are really sweaty…and you’re breathing really fast. Are you sure you’re okay? Hey…” He squeezes your palm and you open your eyes to meet his. “It’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t joke anymore about it, I’m sorry.”
You swallow. “It’s just really really high.”
Frankie watches the ride operator out of the corner of his eye passing their car as he makes sure everyone is safely locked in before tugging on your arm slightly. You slide forward minutely, he meets you more than halfway with his large limbs and rests his hands on your hips. You gasp as the ride jolts and begins rolling, lifting the cabs up in the air. His calloused fingertip pushes your head back up.
“How about I distract you.” He murmurs, shifting forward one inch more, tilting his neck as his soft pouty lips meet yours. 
You close your eyes, trying to lose your self awareness into him and his mouth and the soft skin of his nose that bumps your cheek and tickles your nose with its little breaths. 
The lift mechanism suddenly shudders, clunking over something and it feels like when you run over a squirrel in your car. You inhale sharply against Frankie’s lips as your cab jostles back and forth. Not much, but enough for you to slam yourself back against your seat and clutch the seat bottom as hard as you can. Your heart beats wildly and you imagine the ride breaking and dropping you on the ground to be crushed to death by this stupid fucking metal cab.
You feel pressure on your knees and look down, focusing hard to not see double from fear. Frankie cups both in his hands, thumbs lightly stroking the inside of your thighs. “It’s okay.” He reassures, squeezing your knees once more. “Probably an under-greased cog, it’s nothing. They test these things like 50 times a day.”
You simply stare, forcing yourself to nod. 
“Close your eyes.”
You open your mouth to argue then close it and obey. You trust Frankie, and it can’t be any worse. 
“Just focus on me. And…you hear the music? It’s called “Enjoy the Silence.” I was obsessed with this song when it came out. And can you hear Benny below us? I can hear Gabi laughing too. We’re all okay, you’re okay too.”
You bite your lips into your mouth, focusing on the song and Frankie’s husky voice. The meditative synth pop calms you, and the carefree voices of your friends below does help calm you, but you can’t slow down your heartbeat. 
“I’m okay. Just too much adrenaline.”
The hands on your knees slide up your bare thighs and wrap around the bottoms of them. Frankie pulls you forward in your seat with a smirk. “I’m feeling a little amped up too.”
“Frankie.”
He doesn’t respond, his sole focus on your thighs as his hands slide up and up and up until he is just able to slip the tip of one of his fingers under one leg of your shorts. For some reason, it pisses you off.
“Frankie!” You hiss. “People could see us.”
“Nah…” He shushes you, his finger sliding lower. 
You clamp your legs shut and push his hand back in his direction. “Frankie, I don’t want to right here.” 
He sits up. “Oh.”
Suddenly you hear Benny’s voice from below. “Hello we are underneath you guys! I don’t want to hear any hooking up sounds!” He trolls, and you fully push Frankie back to his side, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.
It’s the first time you can remember that it’s ever been uncomfortably awkward between the two of you, and you’re not sure why. The silence seems so much more noticeable and weird against the clanking of the Ferris wheel gears and the chattering of random other people.
You’re not even looking at each other, you realize. When did that happen? Your neck cranes to the left as you gaze at the stars, and when you turn back towards Frankie, he is looking to the right and down at the fair. 
“…Is everything okay?”
His eyes snap back to yours. “Yea? Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Cause I pushed you away, and…I dunno, you’re being weird..”
“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not intentional. I’m not upset, c’mere.” He opens his arms wide to you, scooting on his bench so there’s enough room for you.
You hesitate. “Won’t it…won’t it throw off the balance?”
You feel ridiculous asking but he doesn’t laugh at you, just shakes his head slightly. “Nah, they wouldn’t be able to run this ride if people couldn’t sit on the same side.”
You balance awkwardly on the edge of your bench overanalyzing what exact moment during the track of the ride to launch onto his, but you overthink it and end up jostling the cab more than necessary. Frankie’s arms pull you into his side and you burrow your face in his neck as the cab continues to rock. The music fades from Depeche Mode to Lizzo to Lil’ Nas X (Will clearly enjoys that one) and then back to Lizzo, and you forget all about your uneasiness.
He was right. It did feel better being with him. 
The ride does one more pass then rolls to a halt, letting off you with Frankie and Benny with Santiago. You hover at the exit for Will and Gabi, who have to wait for their cab to reach the platform before dismounting. Frankie takes your hand as you wait.
Gabby’s adrenaline rush runs out fast, and you spend the remainder of the fair eating more fried Oreos and playing games. Somehow you manage to beat them all at the water shooting game, which amps up the competitiveness to the point you’d rather just watch.
Which is how you end up at the “star” game. 
“We’re so fucking good at this game, it pisses them off every time.” Laughs Benny, as he shoots the entire Star out perfectly with the gun that is specifically not given enough ammo to achieve this. You hop up on the far side of the counter to watch, noting the way each of you boys handles their weapon and the differences in each. Benny held his gun loosely, like he was relaxed and self assured. It almost seemed like you would be able to slap it out of his hands but you knew he still had an iron grip. Will was precise and, as you expected, “perfect form”. You could tell just from Pope’s posture change that he was the best shot on the team, you’d never seen him look so focused. Frankie held his with a tense white knuckle grip, the folding stock tucked against his shoulder joint. The tension carrying up his arms as his veins popped out in his forearms and biceps. He looked fucking good. And you wouldn’t consider yourself a “gun person.” In fact, you kind of hated them. But there just was something about a strong non-douchey man holding a rifle like that that activated you. Damn the patriarchy. Even Dali is a great shot, though not as good as the guys.
After a few rounds, the carnie finally stopped allowing your posse to keep playing, frustrated that somehow the rigging system didn’t work on your group. You lean back on your hands, your legs swinging against the wood counter, observing Benny arguing with the carnie with a smirk. Gabi is passed out in her stroller next to you as Frankie sidles up to you, feeding you a piece of Fried Reeses, then promptly kissing you so the taste floats between you. 
He hums deeply, stepping closer to you til he’s between your legs. His hands rest low on the top of your thighs. “This ok?”
You smile. “Yes. More than okay. And I want more.” 
Frankie beams and cups your face, his lips crashing into yours as he all but breathes you in. You tilt your head and poke his mouth with your tongue. He responds immediately and opens for you, meeting you halfway. You whine softly as his hands leave your cheeks and trail down your back, one hand sneaking a bit lower to discreetly cup your ass. You’ve just wound your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck when you hear a shrill voice cut through the din of the dwindling crowd.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Your heart slams to a halt so fast it hurts. You recognize that voice. And so does Frankie. Your heads both snap to the left as a disheveled looking Lex stands there with a bunch of her friends.
Frankie simply stares. She repeats herself. “Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. The BABYSITTER? Are you fucking your BABYSITTER??? Oh Frankie…come on…how pathetic can you be? She’s like a child!”
You look at Frankie, receding into himself like a silent, terrified puppy. You’ve never seen him like this before, it unnerves you.
“Excuse me.” You snap back. “I am 28.”
She scoffs. I fucking knew something was going on with you two. And you’re doing this in front of my child?”
“Well, actually, Gabi is sleeping. At least she was, until you came ranting and raving.” You make eye contact with Pope, who reads your perfectly and starts steering Gabi’s stroller away so she can’t hear. “We made sure to be careful for her but why do you even care if we are fucking? You left him! You didn’t want him anymore, so it shouldn’t fucking matter who he dates.” 
“He’s a drug addict and a pathological liar. He will NEVER change.”
“Yea? And you are a drunk, controlling, OCD bitch who can’t mind her own fucking business. He’s happy with me. I trust him. Unlike you. Bye.” You couldn’t help yourself, you just fucking hated her.
But that set her off. “Did he tell you why he was suspended?”
“Yes, he—“
“Did he tell you he was high, flying a family and he almost injured everyone from a sloppy landing? Did he tell you how he would take Gabi to his drug dealers house with him? How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper? That I deliberately asked him not to because we had a new baby? That he crashed their helicopter, dropped all their money and shot innocent villagers to keep them from getting it? At children and old men adn women? That because of that, Molly’s husband was shot in the fucking head by one of those people? And then they couldn’t even bring the money back so it was all for no reason?”
She’s shouting now, spittle flying from her inebriated lips. One of her friends tries to grab her arm but she shakes them off. People in the crowd are starting to stop and watch. “Then, THEN, he treated me like shit, saying horrible things to me just when he was mad, throwing things, scaring me!”
You feel like you can’t breathe, it’s too much information all at once. “...What? I don’t…No. no, he said he was on a delta mission–”
“Oh sweetheart,” She sneers condescendingly. “He was on a greed mission. He was retired from delta. This was like a year ago. They all wanted to get rich and robbed a fucking drug kingpin and Frankie shot innocent people to make sure he got alllllll that money. And because of that, his friend was shot and killed and his family has NO idea why. He lied to you.”
You turn to look at him, and all his friends. Everyone is silent, trying not to look up from the ground. Dali looks as bewildered as you. “Frankie…?” Tears water in your eyes and you feel like your heart is going to burst. You thought he told you it was an enlisted mission, but on top of everything else you just learned your thoughts are rushing so fast you can’t seem to remember specifics. 
Frankie can’t even look at you. And that’s how you know. 
It’s true…
“Lex. Stop.” Will’s Southern drawl cuts through the silence, the commanding officer in him coming out. “It’s over. This shit between you two has to stop. Enough.” His eyes shift to Lex’s friends, who are nodding and repeating the same thing. Lex finally allows them to pull her away muttering under her breath, sending one last glare in your direction.
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The walk to the truck is silent. The ride home is a foggy blur. But the minute you step into the house, you crack. 
“Frankie please tell me all this is not true.” You can’t read him at all, his face is completely blank as he moves around you towards Gabi’s bedroom to tuck her in.
So you wait.
His hackles are already up when he comes back out.
“Frankie–”
“Yea.”
“Well?”
“Yea. It’s true. We tried to steal money from one of Pope’s cases and it backfired and Tom got shot.”
“Because of you.”
His expression changes then, from blank nothing to vicious defensive anger. “Yea. Because of me. I fucked up the flight back and we crash landed and these fuckin’ villagers were gonna take the money! And it was an accident!”
“You ‘accidentally’ shot innocent people?”
He swallows, his jaw clenching and unclenching. You can see he’s doing mental gymnastics in order to avoid accountability. 
“Did your finger slip?”
No answer. 
“Frankie. Did your finger slip on the trigger?”
You already know the answer before he says it. And somehow it’s like he morphs into a Disney villain as he says it. “No. My finger didn’t slip.”
It burns, the sharp pain in your heart that makes you feel like it’s having a seizure or forgot how to pump blood or is pumping too much blood. “How many people did you kill.”
He shrugs. “I dunno.”
“You don’t know? How can you not know?! Frankie, you told me this was your job! You- you fucking lied to me! I-I I asked you if you were hiding anything else from me and you fucking lied to me!” You can’t help your voice raising, the tears spilling out of your eyes as you realize how fucking stupid you had been. Somewhere in the background you can hear Gabi has woken and is hysterically crying. Frankie, clearly having enough, turns back towards her room. But you continue, screaming at his back. “And that’s why Tom is dead? And his family doesn’t know why?!”
Frankie doesn’t answer and suddenly you are enraged. You run behind him and shove him forward. “I’m fucking talking to you! How can you just be so fucking blase about this??? And…all that other shit???—I feel like I don’t know you at all!”
He whirls around, that furious murderous face you ‘ve seen him give others is finally directed at you. “Because you don’t!” He screams back, his teeth nash and he shoves a finger one inch from  your face. You flinch.
“Frankie, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m scaring you? Really? I thought this was your thing?” 
You blink, confused, tears stalling on your face. “Don’t–”  You plead softly.
“No, Lex is right. You’re a naive little girl who thinks she can save worthless idiots like me and live some fucking fantasy happily ever after. You won’t. You can’t. I’m unfixable.”
“How can you say that!! Frankie, I love you!
He scoffs. “I know you think you do. And I know you aren’t stupid, you told me you’ve done this before. But guess what sweetie, you aren’t better, you’re still doing it because you’re so fucking desperate for someone to love you. You don’t love me. You just want to feel like some fucking savior.”
“No! No… I didn’t, I don’t…you told me you loved me!”
“I wanted to fuck you.” His eyes are black as far, it’s like you don’t even recognize his face anymore. Lex was right. Lex was right. How…did you make all of it up in your head?
“You…You’re a fucking psycho…I feel like you emotionally manipulated me into caring for you only for you to play games with me! I specifically told you I couldn’t go through this again and you fucking did it anyway!”
“Hey, you kissed me. And you were fun to fuck, I will admit that. Let me do fucking anything. But we both knew this would happen. You set yourself up. I did shoot those villagers. I caused Tom’s death. I just wanted the fucking money. And I wanted to kill a bunch of kids too, when they got in my way. Fuckin’ teenagers and I told Pope to fucking shoot them all.  And you know what else? We went back and got all that fucking money we hid, and we are fucking swimming in it. And I didn’t share a goddamn dime with my ex. You’re right. I am a psycho, so it’s a good thing this is over. Pack your shit and leave me alone.”
“Fuck you Frankie.”
You don’t wait another moment. You don’t need to be asked twice this time. You shove him aside on your way down the hallway, doing everything you can not to let the second round of tears fall. He’d seen enough.
You slam the door of the master bedroom behind you, frantically bouncing around different points in the room to grab all your shit. When did all of this stuff even get here? Anxiety bubbles up your chest until you can’t take it anymore and say fuck it, he can just throw anything else out. I have to get out of here.
You rush back down the hallway like a speed demon, praying to whatever that he won’t be standing in the hallway still. He isn’t. He’s sitting on his couch facing away from you, his head in his hands. You hate yourself for wanting to go comfort him. He’s right…I’m
not better…
You pause on the front doorway, struggling to say what needs to be said. Don’t be weak. Don’t keep letting people do this to you over and over. “Don’t contact me.I never want to see you again.” You say to his back.
He doesn’t move a muscle, or even look at you. “You won’t.”
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You were able to make it halfway across the lawn before the grief fully hit. By the time you got to your car you were gasping like you were no longer able to breathe. And the minute your car door shut you broke, a wailing sob bursting from your lips as you bury your face in your palms. 
Again. It happened again. And it’s just as crushing as every other time, except now it feels like you never healed from the others and now they are all piling on top of the other with this one as the final blow.
Why. WHY? Was there something wrong with you? Why were you never enough? Why couldn’t you make them stay? What did you do to keep having to go through this? It almost killed you last time, your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the look on your parents face as they watched you writhe on your bed screaming and crying hysterically from your latest breakup.
And why did you let yourself fall into it again, like you had never learned a goddamn thing. It was like you were masochistic, you told yourself you would never need someone again so badly, you wouldn’t enmesh yourself so fully that when it fell apart you could barely function. Your heart was once again ripped out of your chest and thrown to the floor, the cracks from before making this shattering into pieces so small you know it can’t get repaired again.
With a trembling whimper, you pull your face out of your hands and wipe your eyes, your nose. You realize you’re still sitting in Frankie’s driveway and you immediately look to see if he's at the window, concerned for you. He isn’t. You hate yourself for it but it breaks you even more. 
It’s over.
You drive home mindlessly, your Spotify on shuffle and you aren’t aware of anything else. Just get home. Just get home and then you can cry, try to move on. But you already know you won’t. 
You finally tire yourself out of tears, and you try to talk yourself up, turning up the music and chanting “it’s okay” to yourself. 
It’s Coldplay. You always liked Coldplay. 
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try, you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you…
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face, and I–
You slam the on/off button so hard you actually cause the auxiliary cord to malfunction, so you rip it out of your phone and throw the damn thing on the passenger seat. You drive home in silence.
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It’s dark in the lot when you arrive. You park in a spot along the side and towards the back because the lot is mostly full. The only light shining is the pole yards away, the bulb switches off and on opposite of the dark one right above you. 
You feel numb. You can still feel sticky dried tears on your face, but your ability to utter a sound is gone. You close your eyes and try to compose yourself, simply sitting in your car in the dark. You’re avoiding going upstairs, you know. You’ve pretty much been living at Frankie’s. Walking through that door would make it feel too ‘official’. You cover your face with your hands and rub the tears tracks off your raw face, and are about to take a breath and gather your shit when a THWACKING sound bursts right in your left ear.
You startle with a yelp and look out your window, prepared to tell off whoever is messing with you, but freeze when you find yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun, the only thing separating you from it is the shitty window glass on your cheap car.
»»———————►
Post A/N: Don't yell at me lol
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myfairkatiecat · 7 days
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KOTLC Songs
(ft. a lot of Olivia Rodrigo, but there are some other artists)
@iggydancebreak since you mentioned living these sorts of things!
(Feel free to add onto the list)
FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS! Fitz’s Olivia Rodrigo breakup music with Sophie!
Traitor (“you talked to her when we were together” and “guess you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor” and “remember I brought her up and you told me I was paranoid” and “I wish you would have thought this through before I went and fell in love with you”
Happier (“I hope you’re happy but not like how you were with me, I’m selfish I know, I can’t let you go, so find someone great but don’t find no one better, I hope you’re happy but don’t be happier” tell me that’s not his reaction to Sophie and Keefe)
Drivers License (“and you’re probably with that blonde guy who always made me doubt”)
Deja Vu (different lyrics but basically about how Keefe gives her gifts and chats with Sophie telepathically but that was Fitz and Sophie’s thing first)
OK NOW THAT FITZ HAS GOTTEN TO SING HIS ANGSTY BREAKUP MUSIC
Next up, Keefe Sencen’s complicated everything feelings!!
You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift (specifically in the early books!!) (“can’t you see that I’m the one who understands you, been here all along so why can’t you see, you belong with me” also that song talks all about being with that person who is perfect on paper but isn’t the right person)
That’s what makes you beautiful by One Direction is just objectively a Sokeefe song! (“You’re insecure, don’t know what for, you’re turning heads when you walk through the door” and “Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but you” and “you don’t know you’re beautiful, that’s what makes you beautiful”)
Enough for You by Olivia Rodrigo is Keefe to his parents, all you have to do is change the early lyrics about dating !! (“You say I’m never satisfied but I don’t think that’s true, you say I’m never satisfied but that’s not me it’s you, cause all I ever wanted was to be enough, but I don’t think anything could ever be enough, for you”)
The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo is Keefe singing to his mother (“the trust that you betrayed, confusion that still lingers, you took everything I loved and crushed it in between youre fingers” and “I hear your voice every time that I think I’m not enough” and “I try to be tough but I want to scream how could anybody do the things you did so easily” and “I say that I’m fine, but you know I can’t let it go, I’ve tried I’ve tried I’ve tried” and “I try to understand how you could do this all to me” and “I know in my heart hurt people hurt people, we both drew blood, but man those cuts were never equal” and “do you think I deserved it all, your flowers filled with vitriol”) just ahdkfhskahddk
ALL THE THINGS SHE SAID!!! I cannot stress how KEEFE this song is. But specifically the bridge: “mother looking at me, tell me what do you see? Yes I’ve lost my mind… daddy looking at me, will I ever be free? Have I crossed the line? All the things she said, all the things she said, running through my head, running through my head, running through my head…” especially with “have I crossed the line” being the betrayal and “all the things she said” being his mother talking about Keefe’s legacy, embracing the change……… IT’S HIM.
Family Line by Conan Gray I have already mentioned before, but just. “All that I did to try to undo it, all of my pain and all youre excuses, I was a kid but I wasn’t clueless, someone who loves you wouldn’t do this” I’m gonna cry it’s him and I’m gonna cry
And now onto random Olivia Rodrigo songs that make me think of kotlc!
Lacy is Stina singing about Sophie. (“Lacy oh lacy, skin like puff pastry, aren’t you the sweetest thing on this side of hell. Lacy oh lacy, eyes wide as daisies, did I ever tell you that I’m not doing well” and “I care I care I care” and “you’ve got the one thing that I want” “aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist” and “Lacy oh lacy, it’s like you’re out to get me, you poison every little thing that I do”) IS THAT NOT PROVIDING SO MUCH PERSPECTIVE. IS THAT NOT HOW STINA FEELS
Can’t Catch me Now is Jolie haunting Brant. (“There’s blood on the side of the mountain, there’s writing all over the wall, shadows of us are still dancing, in every room in every hall” and “all of the messes you made, yeah you think that you got away” and “I’m in the trees, I’m in the breeze, my footsteps on the ground, you’ll see my face in every place, but you can’t catch me now” and “you think I’m gone cause I left” and “you can’t, you can’t catch me now, I’m coming like a storm into your town, you can’t, you can’t catch me now, I’m higher than the hopes that you brought down” and “sometimes the fire you founded don’t burn the way you you’d expect, oh you thought that this was the end”) SCREAMING CRYING IS THAT NOT RUEDACTED IN A SONG
I WANT TO HEAR EVERYBODY’S THOUGHTS
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c-nstantine · 11 months
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new beginings
Description: Assistant!Y/N has come to the decision to leave Bruce. (Part 1) (still roughly inspired by Olivia and Fitz)
Warnings: there might be some curse words
Word Count: 0.9k
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Packing should have made Y/N upset but it didn't. She was moving on with her life. Wasting so much time on a man who was unavailable hurt. It hurt more than any version of love should and for a while, she was convinced that he was going to leave his wife. Who was she to think that she could break up Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle? Three knocks on her door brought her out of her thoughts.
"You quit," Bruce spoke as soon as she opened the door. Y/N let out a small gasp and attempted to close the door but Bruce stuck his foot in.
"I did," Y/N said looking into his crystal blue eyes. She could stare at him forever.
"Why?" He said entering her apartment. It's not like she could stop him and she wasn't even sure that she wanted to. Love doesn't go away overnight.
"You are married with children," Y/N seemed to reminding herself of that a lot recently. She felt guilty for being in love with a married man, and she felt guilty for knowing that he actually loved her.
"I am," He admitted. Bruce was stoic, but there were hints of emotion sprinkled throughout his eyes.
"You are, and it's not fair to them, it's not fair to her. It's certainly not fair for me," Y/N's voice cracked as she held back tears.
"So you're leaving," Bruce asked already knowing the answer. Her plane ticket was on her coffee table and he had pretended not to notice. Perhaps, she was visiting a relative but that did not seem to be the case.
"Yeah, I got a job in Metropolis as some reporter's assistant," Y/N couldn't think of the name of the reporter to save her life. Honestly, she simply went on indeed and picked the job most similar to her current one that had benefits.
"Metropolis? Why not just stay in Gotham?" Bruce was close to getting on his knees and begging her to stay. It was not the first time and it most certainly would not have been the last.
"I don't trust myself not to see you. I want you to be a better man, a better husband, and a better father. The easiest way to do that is for me not to be there,"
"All I need is six more months and then we can have everything we'd ever want together,"
"Yeah, but in four months or so, something will happen and then you'll need another four months and then the cycle repeats," Y/N was tired of playing second string. Of course, it was not her fault he was married but she couldn't keep allowing herself to not be a priority.
"I love you and I want you to stay," Bruce's eyes turned red and he seemed to hold back his tears. His chest tightened at the thought of not seeing Y/N everyday.
"I can't," The words 'I love you, too' crept on the edge of her tongue. However, she couldn't bring herself to say them. She knew if she did then she would never get out of this godforsaken city.
"Can't what?" He asked, reaching for her hands, hands that he couldn't quite reach.
"I can't live for you. I can't only have a relationship based on stolen moments and faulty promises. I want more for myself and you can't give me that. At least, not right now," Y/N was sure there were tears falling down her face. The saltwater slowly penetrated her lips, making the moment so much more bitter.
"So you're leaving me," Bruce spoke softly and his eyes seemed to bore into hers. She felt as if all of their time together was replaying all at once. Every glance, every touch, every kiss all balled into one feeling that she could never describe.
"Yes, and I want you to go," He stood quietly as if he was trying to calculate the next charming thing to say. He would say something that would have her falling in love with him all over again.
"Out, Bruce!" She yelled a bit too loudly and covered her mouth. He did not to make her more upset so he did leave but first, he sent her one more small smile.
- 'New city, fresh start,' was the mantra that Y/N had been mumbling her entire time in the elevator of the Daily Planet. The first few days in the city were spent adjusting and trying to remember that were no gunshots or police raids to fall asleep to in Metropolis.
"Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. I think I'm supposed to be starting as your assistant today," She introduced herself as she opened the office door. The office was large and featured a desk in the middle with a slightly smaller one in the corner. Everything seemed neat and had its own place.
"Oh, come on in. I'm Clark, Clark Kent," He spoke with a slight accent that Y/N couldn't quite place. He was more than attractive with dark hair and glasses.
"It's nice to meet you," She said with a smile.
"Before we get started, where exactly in Wayne Tech did you work? I have a few friends over in Gotham," Clark asked as he handed her a small file. Y/N took note of his muscles that seemed to almost burst out of his button-up.
"Oh, I worked as Bruce Wayne's personal assistant," Y/N try to say without sounding as bitter as possible. She left on her merit but at the same time, she loved that man with all her being.
"Interesting,"
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tremorsmackenzie · 6 months
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I have another idea for a fanfic.
tw: daisys depression and generally sucky time in season 4
Basically, Daisy gets taken into the Framework instead of Fitz. After some flavourtext about how 4x16 would differ if there was no doctor and fitzsimmons had to find their path in the framework, the resistance base would get attacked, and theyd have to evacuate and relocate to a backup base - afterlife, as it turns out, because if aida doesnt need to provide fitz with specimen to study, it should be fine. There, they'd be greeted by the inhumans second in command, a woman named daisy johnson. She begrudgingly lets in shield, but is pretty miffed about it since theyre barely better than Hydra in her opinion. There are tensions, and fitzsimmons find out that daisy lost her dad when Hydra emerged and started tracking down subversives. Aka, her life is pretty sad here as well. Convincing daisy that this is all fake is pretty damn impossible, since shes not very receptive to the idea that her actual life in the real world is even worse than this. It takes a hydra attack that kills jiaying and most of the inhumans in front of her to get her to come around, and its mostly because she has nothing left to lose at that point.
Thoughts?
Edit: there would also be a scene about lmd!daisy attacking fitzsimmons in the real world and retriggering all of fitz' ptsd about hive!daisy before they plug themselves in.
Also, aidas motivations would be pretty basic and unimportant here because she isnt literally trying to become a real girl for fitz.
Title would be change you like a remix from that one song by fall out boy.
And there would be lots of scenes with daisy and a jiaying who hasnt been abducted and tortured by Whitehall, but has instead raised her daughter with her husband.
i mean, a daisy who got to grow up in a loving home, surrounded by chinese and inhuman culture. the POTENTIAL. may and daisy suddenly being able to bond over chinese things as the children of asian-american immigrants. daisy actually being able to speak chinese, albeit with an accent. the pain of may and daisy being immediatley hostile towards each other once they meet in afterlife. the implications down the line of a daisy who feels even more responsible for the inhumans in the space arc of season 5a, and who would be able to shower them with the inhuman culture none of them ever got to experience. i am going insane over here.
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cyberphuck · 1 month
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ROYAL ASSASSIN ABRIDGED: PART ONE My friend Razz wants to understand my shitposting about Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy, but they don’t want to actually have to read the books, so I’m summarizing it for them (and you)! When we last left Fitzy-Fitz, it was a really fucking long time ago, sorry, I stopped going to church and learned to chainsmoke (and this book is LONG, I mean it’s LOOOOOOONG, so I kept avoiding getting started on Abridging it, lmao). You can brush up on the frankly insane amount of different characters here at the Royal Assassin Cast of Characters post, or find the links to the rest of the Farseer Trilogy Abridged series here at this link here.
- Fitz awakens one fine October morning in a bed at Jhaampe hospital, where he's been recovering from being poisoned and poisoned and bludgeoned and kicked and drowned. At first he was having eighty seizures a day, but now that it's down to only twenty-five seizures a day, he and Burrich figure it's high time for the two of them to skedaddle before they get snowed in.
  Then, exactly like that scene in Attack on Titan where Eren reaches for a spoon and accidentally turns into a Titan, Fitz drops a spoon and accidentally turns into a seizure. It's a lot less cool. He wakes up hours later back in the same damn hospital bed with Jonqui the King's Sister and now healer sitting beside him.
  "This sucks," he whines.
  "Time heals all wounds, Pull-Out Fail," Jonqui says sagely.
  "Shut the fuck up. I'm fifteen and obviously know a lot more than you about healing, and I've decided I'm never going to get better."
  Burrich strides healthily into the room with a swanky new skunk stripe in his hair where his skull was recently cracked open. "What-ho, Lil Accident, are you ready to go back to Buckkeep?"
  "No. Everybody's gonna make fun of me. You go back without me."
  "So long as you wear that collar," Burrich says solemnly, "I must follow you."
  Fitz touches the black collar with the word DADDY on it in gold letters. "The way you followed my father?"
  "Yes."
  "Was it like, a sex thing?"
  Burrich, who has enough hidden piercings to set off a metal detector at twenty paces, asks, "Are we going back to Buckkeep or what? I'm getting kind of bored sitting here watching you do the Harlem Shake."
  "Also, I heard that Molly's candle shop was foreclosed on and she had to go live with relatives in a town that's about to be raided by Vikings," The Fool says from under the bed.
  "Gosh, I wish I could talk to King Shrewd or the Fool or find out what's happening to Molly," Fitz sighs, then sits up as the room fills with the wavy lines and harp glissando of a dream sequence.
  "Wake up, King Shrewd," the Fool says. He's sitting on a chair, not under the bed or in a hay bale for once, and Fitz finds it extremely disturbing.
  "Fool? What are you doing here?"
  "Oh, King Shrewd and not Fitz, I have to be here because you're sick and old," the Fool fools. "Here, let me fluff your pillows and feed you soup."
  "This is so weird," Shrewd-Fitz says. "I feel like... oh, the Skill line is ringing. What? Vikings are viking Siltbay so late in the fall?"
  "You know, it's creepy when you talk to yourself like that," the Fool mutters.
  But Shitz (Shrewd-Fitz) is already on a Skill video call, watching the Red-Ship Raiders pulling up onto the coast. Vikings run through the town, viking everything in sight. The raiders are wading through blood up to their knees, people are running around headless and on fire, it's awful. The raiders aren't even stealing anything-- they're just wrecking stuff, which anyone who's been to a Raiders game can attest to (go Cowboys).
  "Fool," Shitz says. "You can see the future, right?"
  "This is a weird time to reveal that particular nugget of information, but sure. Let's see... ah, yes. I see a bard who can't fucking read the room trying to find a rhyme for 'dismembered child.' That is not something Jaydee made up, it's a real line from the book."
  "Thank you, Fool, that's extremely fucked up," Shitz says. "Oh wait, who's this on the video call... It's Molly! Oh SHIT, it's Molly and Vikings are going to vike her!"
  But Molly wasn't called Molly Nosebleed as a kid because she's a trembling little violet. A Viking tries to vike her and she stabs him to death, whirls around and shouts "WHO WANTS SOME, MOTHERFUCKERS?!"
  Then a house falls on her.
  "Oh god, oh fuck," Shitz says, panicking. "Fool, use your future vision and tell me if Molly's okay!"
  "A bunch of women died in a bunch of horrible ways," the Fool says. "Do you want me to list them?"
  "No," Shitz says, and so the Fool doesn't spend two pages describing the graphic sexual assault, murder, and maiming of a bunch of townsfolk. Shitz sits back in his bed. "Run off and let Verity know Siltbay is being viked."
  Ever loyal, the Fool cartwheels down the stairs. Then Shitz sighs and says, "Man, being old sucks."
  "Yes it does, so quit your fucking whining about your little seizures and come home," Shrewd says, and ends the Skill call.
  The next morning, Fitz-Fitz packs up his stuff and heads out with Burrich and Hands to make the long boring trip back to Buckkeep.
The return to Buckkeep sucks especially hard because they have to take the 99 instead of the I-5 like last time, and Fitz is getting carsick. Along the way they keep having to stay in incredibly sketch Super 8s, which wouldn't be that bad (free soap and free weird smells!) but Burrich and Hands overhear someone standing out in the hallway talking loudly on their phone about how much King Shrewd fucking sucks.
  "Yeah he keeps raising taxes to 'defend our country' or whatever but Vikings are still viking the beach towns as much as they want," had said the Buckboi in the hallway. "You know who rules, though, Prince Regal!"
  "What towns did Buckboi say were viked?" Fitz asks.
  "A town no one cares about," Hands answers solemnly, "and the one where Molly had a house fall on her."
  After that incident, Burrich decides that they're gonna make the rest of the trip using surface streets and driving through people's yards. "If Regal finds out you're out here, he'll send someone to kill you," Burrich explains. "Verity's definitely not gonna protect you."
  "Is that because he consistently sees me as a tool first and a family member and human being second?"
  "Look," Hands interrupts. "I see Buckkeep-shaped lights in the distance." They ride up to the gates, which are guarded by a kid who was born a thousand years too early to be the squeaky-voiced teen working at the drive-thru. “Halt,” he squeaks. “Who the fuck are you?“
  Burrich scoffs. ”Who the fuck are YOU?“
  ”I asked you first!“
  ”I asked you sec—“
  ”All right, all right, who's holding up the line?“ The last book had a rich and exhausting cast of random extras murmuring in the background, but this one used all of their budget on talking CGI wolves, so they had to fire most of them and give almost all of their lines to Blade, The Guard Captain. His job is to appear at important moments and say things like 'hear, hear!' and 'how big WAS she?' “Holy shit, it's Burrich! Twitter said you and Chivalry's Post Nut Regret were dead!”
  “It's called X now,” Fitz says, emerging dramatically from the shadows.
  “Oh.” Blade says, while four of the other guards die of secondhand embarrassment. “H-hi, Chivalry's Pos... I mean... Fitz. You uh. Did you have a nice trip? Hey, you... did something with your hair, it looks... it looks good!”
  “Prince Regal was going around telling everyone I was dead, wasn't he,” Fitz says flatly.
  “Sometimes I can still hear his voice,“ Regal sighs from somewhere in the castle.
  ”What? No. What?? No! What?! No!“ Blade laughs as six more guards thud to the ground. ”No, of course not! It was just, you know, like, you know. YOU know. You know. I didn't really believe you were dead, I did retweet the link Regal posted but I commented with 'big if true,' so it wasn't really...”
  Fitz smiles. “Ho ho ho, Captain, don't worry your sweet little tits about it. Everyone falls victim to misinformation from time to time, and I accept the apology I assume you were about to provide me. Do carry about your business.”
  Halfway up to the stables, Burrich pulls Fitz aside. “Listen, Lil Accident, we're not at Grandma's house anymore,” he hisses. “You can't talk to people like you matter or Regal's gonna get his panties in a knot about it.”
  “And then he'll choke me,” Fitz agrees.
  “What?”
  “With his knotted up panties.“
  ”I'm also still alive,“ Hands offers after a long silence. ”Fitz, you're too weak and pathetic to wax your own horse, let me do it.“
  ”But...“
  ”Come on, Fitz, let Hands, my new favorite child, take care of the important work.“ Burrich takes Fitz's arm. ”Now go on up to the castle, that collar is making everybody question their sexuality.“
  ”What's a sexuality?“ Fitz asks, just before he's shoved into the castle, screen door banging behind him.
  Inside, Fitz looks around and notices that the place looks cleaner than it had before he'd left on the world's worst road trip. All the beer cans and ash trays have been cleaned up, someone's taken down the band posters and put up tasteful watercolors of succulents, and the 'NICE COCK' that had been scrawled above the toilet has been replaced with 'live laugh love.'
  ”Wrow,“ muses Fitz as he passes a sign on Verity's door that reads 'IF THE WARSHIP'S A-ROCKIN', DON'T COME A-KNOCKIN'. ”I'm kinda gonna miss the crusty sock smell. Good thing my room still reeks like teenaged boy.“
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fitzfunnymoments · 1 year
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Okay I'm back now :]
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someplace-darker · 1 year
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Kinktober Day 1: Floor Sex | Sierra Six x Reader
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Pairing: Sierra Six x reader (no y/n)
Wordcount: 1.3k
Warnings: 18+, PWP, floor sex, no protection (wrap it!!!), blood, canon typical violence, reader is afab but no pronouns are used, maybe slight choking?
Summary: After being attacked you and Six find yourselves alone in a safehouse together that has a surprising lack of furniture
A/N: I haven't written in months and i have worked nonstop lately so this is late and a bit rushed! but i hope you like it there is a serious lack of Six fics out here
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You’ve never seen shit hit the fan so fast in your entire life, which is saying a lot considering the long track record of carnage you’ve seen in your time on this planet. Quite honestly you think you blacked out during most of it, only catching bits and pieces of what was happening along with the bits and pieces of bad men being splattered across your face. 
It was going to take weeks to get the smell of blood out of your nose, and even longer for the taste. 
You glance to where Six now sits in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall to get a better view out of the window, and you want to push the stray blood crusted hair out of his face. “Does Fitz at least know where we are?” you question, pulling your legs to your chest as if to make yourself smaller to create more room for a conversation. Six wasn’t a very talkative person, you knew this from the months you had spent together. But fuck if you didn’t want to make him speak, make him say something to break the silence that had gone on since the moment he grabbed your hand and tugged you away from the crime. It’s wishful thinking.
“No.”
He seems perfectly collected, body relaxed with his legs stretched out on the carpeted floor, eyes attentively flicking back and forth between the laptop camera feed and the window. The only thing slightly out of place was the brief flicker of his jaw tensing, twice in succession. Six was raised and trained to compartmentalize any overwhelming feeling that he may feel, but the months you’ve spent with him and the time you’ve taken to analyze every movement he makes tells you that despite his demeanor, he’s livid. 
You don’t particularly feel like poking the bear, but you’re scared and covered in blood that (mostly) isn’t yours, so you think you have the right to be curious. Unstretching your legs, you push up and onto your knees so you can hobble closer to him, waddling to his corner of the room so you can sit to his left. “Okay. Does that mean he won’t know it at all?” 
“Maybe.”
He’s fucking exasperating. 
The tension in the room builds with each second that passes, your annoyance and his silence combining into a thick, unswallowable cocktail. You sit like that for the next several minutes, occasionally glancing at him as the sun outside the window sets behind the mountains and the moonlight falls over the walls that surround you. Surprisingly it’s Six who reaches out first, palm finding its place on your thigh, the blood in your cheeks burning hotter when his fingers flex.
“I know you want answers, and the truth is that I don’t know them yet,” he speaks, voice low and focused. It takes a few structured breaths before you can look at him, lifting your head to level with his stare. There’s always been something between the two of you, something unspoken and untouched left to collect dust beneath the surface of whatever facade you had put up. But now that he’s looking at you with a heaviness you haven’t seen from him before, you know it’s different. 
“It’s okay,” you manage to murmur, breath catching when his eyes flit to your mouth and his fingertips press harder into your leg. The leftover adrenaline from the night's events pushes through your veins with a renewed vigor, moving you forward until your mouth meets his, a sharp inhale coming from both of you. 
Part of you wonders if this is how Six’s targets feel. He’s all consuming, plucking every single coherent thought from your head until it’s all him. How his mouth moves against your lips, his hand grips the back of your neck, how he guides you back until your shoulders hit the carpet. There’s a push and pull that has you grinning against the chase of his lips, and you know he can feel it.
No words are spoken as clothes are shed, frantic hands tugging at blood-soaked cloth before his hand slides under your back so you arch, giving his fingers room to undo your bra. You should be put off by the amount of red stains resting on your skin but nothing else seems to matter when Six’s focus turns to the button on his pants as you shimmy your shorts off. 
The dim lighting in the room doesn’t give you the satisfaction of being able to look at him properly, the most of what you can make out is the outline of him as he leans back to toss his jeans, fingers reaching out to skim along the scars that indent his skin. Six seems to freeze at this, struggling to decide between what you assume to be fight or flight. After a moment he grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to the skin of your palm, his free hand tugging your body closer to him and readjusting your legs to wrap around his hips.
You can feel his cock against the inside of your thigh, moaning softly when he grabs himself in his hand and repositions to press against your entrance. “Hey,” Six grunts, the control being held in his strained jaw “I need to know that you want this. That you want me.” Shimmying your hips closer, you hum with thinly veiled satisfaction when Six groans, hand planting itself beside your head. “I want this,” you assure, shifting once more “I need you.” 
That’s enough confirmation, and he takes no time pressing into your cunt, something akin to a whimper escaping your lips. You had known that he had to be big, just with the way he carries himself, but fuck this is much better than anything you could’ve prepared yourself for.
Your legs tighten around him as he thrusts into you a few times, gritting his teeth when you clench around him. “Fuck, honey,” Six grunts, leaning down to catch your lips once more. It’s less pretty this time, more knocking of noses and biting of lips, he inhales your gasps as he rocks into you faster, your back scratching against the carpeted floor and it’s so much.
“You make it so fucking hard to stay away from you,” he speaks breathlessly, huffing out a laugh when you cry out his name and dig your nails into his shoulder blades. “Years of training to be indifferent just for you to smile at me and not blink an eye when I have to do my job- jesus christ you’re taking me so well,” you rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, words blinking out of your vocabulary as his cock presses to the most delicious part of you.
Six rolls your nipple between his fingers before dragging them down the middle of your stomach, finally reaching where you need him most when his thumb presses down onto your clit. Pinpricks line your skin, legs trembling “Six, please, please.” 
“C’mon honey, let me see it, want you to feel good,” he groans, leaning back to look at your face when you finally come, gasping as he fucks you through it. All of it is overwhelming, the wave of chills that wrack your body seemingly the closest you’ll ever get to tasting paradise. You can tell that he’s close when his hand presses to your throat and his head drops, fucking into you faster than before but with less rhythm.
“Inside,” you manage to speak, though your voice is hoarse. Six looks at you, searching for some hint of hesitation on your face but finds none. He follows soon after, laying his weight on top of you as he comes with a strangled moan.  You lay like that for what seems like years, collecting your scrambled thoughts and running your nails up and down his back.
“Hey Six?” you say, smiling when his chest rumbles against your own.
“Yeah?”
“We should probably shower.”
He pulls back to glance between your bodies, sweat covered and bruised with some hints of blood “duly noted.”
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..So I guess I should make an introduction.
Hi. Its your favourite Neverseen gal, Rayni
My pronouns are she/her and I am bisexual. Im a flasher, and.. yeah.
I saw the others on a ‘tumblr’ and decided to check it out
if you need to talk to me personally, my main acc is @oc3an-w4ve
Uh.. So I guess I should list my ‘friends’
Kids
Sophie- @therealsophieelizabethfoster
Fitz- @fitz-avery-vacker
Dex- @dex-the-smart-one
Keefe- (Idk which one to add) @keefe--sencen @lord-hunkyhair
Biana- @sparkles-make-anything-better
Tam- (theres two?) @tam-song-the-shade @tam-shade-song
Linh- @linh--song
Marella- @shut-up-i-will-burn-you
Wylie- @flasher-boi-endal
Stina- @im-just-cooler
Maruca- @the-only-maruca-chebota
Jensi- @jensi-babbles-lots
Amy- @amy-rose-foster
Adults
Alden- @alden-dendrick-vacker
Quinlin- @quinlin-sonden
Elwin- (Theres two) @elwin-at-your-service @elwin-h3slege
Sandor- @igowhereyougo
Forklenator- @norwegian-trickster-god
Edaline- @edaline--ruwen
Ro- @hunkyhairs-backup
King Dimitar- @king-dimitar
Livvy- @psychic-physician
Squall- @the-prettiest-ice-cube
Blur- @blurrieidentities
Calla- @callas-panakes-tree
Fellow Neverseen people (Idk how to feel about them..)
Fintan- @fintan-pyren
Gethen- @gethen-inar-ondsinn
Alvar- @alvar-not-vacker
Vespera- @vespera-neci-foland
Ruy- @ruy-tonio-ignis
Gisela- @lady-gisela
Organizations
Neverseen- @neverseen-official
Black Swan- @black-swan-official
Matchmaking Office- @the-official-matchmaking-office
The Council- @thecouncil-official
Exillum- @exillium
Foxfire- @foxfire-official
The Sanctuary- @sanctuary-official
Animals
Silveny- @therarestprattlespin
Iggy- @iggy-the-imp
Princess Purryfins- @adorablevenom
…..Stuffed animal..?
Ella- @elephantinahawaiianshirt
Holy crap, that was a lot of writing.
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emmalovesfitzloved · 4 months
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Can you tell me about Fitzloved?
"OH MY GOSH, AM I ABOUT TO INTRODUCE YOU TAYLOR SWIFT?!"
that's what i first meme when i saw your lovely ask! hahahah
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Introductions
So its a fandom based on the epic fantasy series that follows for the most part, 2 soulmates, from their childhood all the way to their older years as they grow from friendship, partners to lovers. And I have to admit, the way it's written is almost euphoric. It's utterly lyrical.
So introductions now put aside, 'Fitzloved' is the ship name for "Beloved" (one of his many names) name of the characters and "Fitz". They are the two ongoing protagonists in one of the most respect and wonderful high fantasy series ever created, Realm of the Elderlings by Robin Hobb. They are the main couple shall we say that span the 16 book series. I think a lot describe it as the "mona lisa of fantasy series" within the genre. It's aesthetic is very much evermore meets folklore meets Merlin. Its veryyyyy cozy fantasy and perfect for the season but also the Fall/winter.
The big 5 writers of fantasy rn i have been told are: Brandon's, Robin Hobb's, GRRM (Although he's lost a lot of respect in the community because of his insane hiatus!), Steven Erickson's (Malazan series) and Joe Abercrombie. While you will see with the Cosmere, Brandon is very much straight to the point, prioritises fights, magic system building and very cohesive ensamble casts. Unlike her peers, Robin Hobb on the other hand, is a delicacy. A slowly made dessert that has sweet and salty tastes if you will. And another defining feature is that her series does not involve a massive war at the epicentre of the fantasy plot, which ironically is rare in high fantasy now a days.
Of Cats and Closed Doors by @tragediegh
HOWEVER. The WAY in which i was introduced to this series is kind of dumb and silly, i.e. very me lol. i stumbled across a fiction on ao3 under 'in a the cabin era way' tag and stumbled across @tragediegh's soul-binding, amazing wonderful fiction called Of Cats and Closed Doors that is still ongoing and she updates mostly weekly! At first, not joking i thought it was an original work, but only well into crying, loving, reading, laughing, did i realise when i looked better at the tags it was actually based on ROTE lol. I was new to ao3 that's my only defence :P
And what @tragediegh and Hobb are doing probably tell from my handle, is make literally my roman empire. Like I reread chapters everyday before going to sleep. It's fr fr my safe space. and what i love is the maturity in which they both write, as they create stakes in different ways. She creates a very tangible atmosphere, a world you can touch, the foods cooked, how they smell, and what the character's rely on. From banquet halls, to the wood carvings the Fool leaves behind, the well lit fireplaces, mugs of ale and coffee on the table, through jewels adorned, to how the dragons gleaming like jewels in the sky… it's simply amazing. You get me. There is NEVER a moment where you feel like it's a slog or dull moment. Like I did sometimes while reading the Stormlight Archive or Outlander (those books in their defence, are longer individually).
And like I said, the thing I LOVE the most with how they make us and fall in love with Fool (one of the protagonists) through the eyes of naive and a socially sometimes challenged Fitz. Fitz himself, is the most passionate, handsome, humble hero i've ever read. He is a bastard prince who from day 0 was neglected, abused, unwanted, un-named, manipulated, gaslit just all around most traumatised character one could read. Which most people end up overlooking and resenting bc he is riddled with insecurities (despite him being a hotttie hot chiseled smokie pie that everyone wants to cuffff) and developed unhealthy copying mechanisms that can effect the readability of the main series. Which is entirely relatable. I strongly believe the hero of Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson that everybody loves, is heavily inspired by Fitz in ROTE. In fact I think Brandon said it was one of his fav series.
But really, the masterpiece of this world is obviously the Fool. When I look at the other characters, its a bit like watching a glorious puppet show - I can see how the strings are moving and what the puppets are made of…But not so with the Fool, he is an infinite mystery and creating a character like that is something I`ll never be able to get out of my head. he is other worldly. Put Tolkien fae and beautiful faeries to shame with his grace, elegance, mysticism. His story with Fitz (the other main character) with that @tragediegh and Hobb are doing imo is one of the greatest love stories of all time.
Gender Identity
And I think also, Fool (also known as Beloved to a special someone 😉) is a lgbtq+ individual, and their identity and how they chose to present and address themselves daily (and not address it!) plays a massive role in the ROTE/OCACD overall. It extremely realistic, how it's writen, where for the most part some characters are confused, don't know how to navigate the topic. Which isn't helped by how private and mysterious the Fool remains. But for the most part, is heart warming, as the gender fluidity of the Fool is openly accepted by his mate (YES MATE) with open arms as he accepts it, and it's got me CRYINGGGG as i type this fr....! These characters were created pre-2000's, which just goes to show how timeless these gender questions and acceptances really are i think!
Music
CANON FOR ME swiftie songs that are FOR fitzloved to get a feel r:
ur loosing me
my tears ricochet
invisible string
stay don't go
the lakes
mastermind (YASSS beloved go manipulate ur boy fitzieee ily)
dress (as of chapter 48 and beyond hopefully alkdfjalkdjfj)
and Fitz's song for me for ever will be:
i see fire live and in session by ed sherran (i just feel the literal passion that fitz has through this song not to mention the howl XD)
Conclusion
So yeah, I cannot recommend enough this ongoing story and series to you.
TLDR: Fitzloved is a ship i read myself to sleep every night and cry about how amazing they are XD
Feel free to ask any more questions about them or even my favourite artists that do ROTE work bc ngl this post was 2x as long as i included artistic work but it was getting too long so i decided to leave that for a more specific ask :)) As you can tell i can just dedicate entire evenings singing from the top of these crusty english rooftops how amazing and life changing these two silly beans are. I hope this was enough of a good overview of my love for them and why! :)) Hopefully one day you will give it a go, and i swear your life will be changed for ever ! <333
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oliversrarebooks · 2 months
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The Rare Bookseller Part 36: Alexander's Desire
Previous Masterlist Next
June 1905
TW: mind control, captivity, human auction
Lex was bored.
He was surrounded by vampires all dolled up in their best attire, eager to see and be seen at the most high-end auction in the entire region, and he could hardly bring himself to care. All of the chatter was petty politics and gossip and who-is-wearing-what and who-is-buying-what, and it was hard to feign the slightest bit of interest.
Still, he did need a thrall. His long-time thrall Edmund had died of old age and blood loss after a lifetime of service. He'd been a good thrall, quiet and obedient, and his presence had eased some of Lex's loneliness. His loss was felt keenly. He knew that a good portion of the vampires here, even those who loved their human pets and servants, would scoff at the depths of Lex's grief over a mere thrall. Lex had always had too soft a heart, a fact that his sire never hesitated to remind him of.
Even so, the grief stung whenever he allowed himself to feel it -- whenever he had need to venture into the cold, spotless kitchen or start up the fire himself. He no longer had anyone to read particularly interesting passages of books to or play music for. There was no more wry chuckle when Lex made a mistake. No one to accompany him to the opera or ballet.
He'd hastily skipped the cattle pen of mind-wiped humans -- he found the entire idea distasteful, their vacant eyes unsettling -- in favor of perusing those designated as servants. Every one had bowed politely to him, addressed him as Mr. Alexander, and answered his questions briefly and with civility. Each one had been so enthralled as to lose most of whatever personality they might've had, and it might take years to draw any of it out of them, like it had with Edmund. The fashion of the time, unfortunately.
But his need for fresh blood couldn't be denied any longer, and even though these humans were unappealing in demeanor, his mouth still watered at the smell. At this rate, all he could do was pick out the most promising of the lot, take them home, and hope to coax some life out of them.
How tedious.
How very, very lonely.
There was, of course, one wild card, one wrench in the machine: his sire-sister, Lily, who had pulled him aside earlier that night to tell him about a secret project she had, a thrall that Lex would just love. That was mildly terrifying, coming from her -- Lex shuddered to think what she'd done to the poor human. Lily's skills in conditioning were second to none, but her ideas of what made a good thrall often ran counter to the grain.
He took his polite leave from the sixth vampire who'd stopped him in the hall, eager to curry favor with him and thereby curry favor with his sire, and headed into an ornately-decorated side room.
There, in the center of the room, stood a man with short blond hair, a stunning red velvet ball gown, and a cocky grin on his face. The thrall looked Lex up and down, and his grin only grew wider.
Lily was standing to his side, wearing some frilly pink confection of a dress. "This is the vampire I wanted you to meet, Fitz."
"Oh, this is Mr. Alexander?" said Fitz. "You didn't tell me he looked like this, sir. I might need to take back what I said about not wanting to serve a vampire."
"This is my special project, Lex," said Lily, bursting with pride. 
"The special-est, sir."
"Lex, meet Fitz."
"Charmed, sir, both literally and figuratively," said Fitz, bowing with a little flourish.
Lex stood there, stunned, not knowing quite how to react. "Are you... have you actually been... what I mean to say is, are you a thrall?"
"I've been hypnotized to hell and back by Miss Lily here, if that's what you mean, sir," he said. "But for better or worse, she's allowed me to retain my sparkling wit."
"Is that so?" Lex glanced over at Lily, who was looking incredibly smug. He had to hand it to her: this thrall at least wasn't boring. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such life in the eyes of a thrall.
"But enough about me, sir," said Fitz, getting into Lex's personal space. He smelled like lavender and rich, delicious blood, and that confident smile paired with sparkling blue-gray eyes was undeniably handsome. "Let's talk about you. Specifically, why you should buy me."
"Isn't that also about you?"
"You got me there, sir." Fitz laughed.
"Why would you even want me to buy you?" said Lex. "You seem to have your mind intact. You know that you'd be my servant, you'd lose your freedom, and I'd drink your blood."
"I don't know if you noticed, sir, but that's going to happen to every human here, or so I'm told. If I'm going to be a servant and delicious meal anyway, I might as well pick my poison, right? And you seem at least to be a very attractive poison."
Lex had seen thralls fawn and beg before, but he hadn't ever seen a thrall openly flirt. It was nakedly manipulative, of course, but the fact that the thrall was even capable of manipulation was intriguing.
"What are your interests, Fitz?" said Lex.
"The stage is my passion, I'm proficient in magic tricks, passable at fortunetelling, excellent at cards, and dabble in all sorts of arts and crafts and handiwork, sir."
"Do you play any instruments?"
"The guitar and the piano, sir, although I wouldn't expect concert-quality performances."
Lex couldn't help but smile. A thrall that played music, and had his mind together enough to indulge in hobbies! He'd longed for a thrall like this ever since he'd buried poor Edmund. Despite himself, he was already losing himself in a daydream of Fitz in his music room, playing a simple tune on his guitar, filling his bleak and lonely mansion with song.
He shook himself out of it. He couldn't give away his interest too obviously.
"Hmm, let's see," he said, hooking a finger under Fitz's chin and directing him to look him in the eye. His blood smelled like a delectable feast, and it was eroding Lex's self-control. He couldn't hold back his vampiric aura, and he saw Fitz's eyes go wide under his influence. Oh, that was gorgeous. "If I were to buy you, would you offer your blood to me?"
"Yes, yes, sir," he said, now looking more like a dazed thrall, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck. Lex had found this fawning behavior uninteresting from the other, more heavily conditioned thralls -- but on Fitz, who just moments before had been bright and alert, it was intoxicating. "Being fed on by a vampire exactly like you is all I can think about lately. Drink, please."
Lex realized that he was far, far too blood-starved to rationally deal with this kind of temptation. He released Fitz from the spell, seconds away from losing himself and biting into merchandise that wasn't his. Yet, came the automatic thought, which he tried to dismiss.
Life returned to Fitz. "You deserve to drink from someone with blood as good as mine, sir."
"Oh?" Lex cocked an eyebrow. "How do you even know that your blood tastes good?"
"Well, a serious looking man in a very dapper suit told me that my blood was top shelf triple-A fancy grade, sir," said Fitz. "He seemed very authoritative, so I'm inclined to believe him utterly."
Lex laughed. It was probably the first time he'd laughed since Edmund died.
Oh, he was in trouble. This wasn't a thrall he would settle for because he needed fresh blood to live. He wanted this thrall. And he didn't like wanting anything -- it was a recipe for disappointment and disaster. And Lily was grinning like a loon. She knew.
"You're going to cost me a lot of money, aren't you?" he said in defeat.
"You're certainly not the first person to say that to me, sir."
Well, it wasn't like money was a serious obstacle to him. While this style of lucid thrall wouldn't appeal to some of the vampires here, the fact that Fitz had the highest graded blood Lex had seen at a local auction would drive his price sky-high regardless of his personality. And unfortunately, Lex already knew that he was willing to pay just about any price for this one. The thought of another vampire buying him, dragging him away by his handcuffs, sinking their fangs into what was rightfully his --
No, this was ridiculous. He had to keep his calm until the auction proper.
"I -- I really should -- I should take my leave and peruse the rest of the merchandise," said Lex as casually as he could muster, as though he hadn't already looked over most of the available thralls and found them lacking.
"Well, you're certainly not going to find anything better than me, but I understand the impulse," said Fitz. "I hope to see you again, sir."
Lex rushed out before he could get drawn back in.
He stalked down the hallway, past chattering vampires, hoping to find a relatively secluded place to clear his head, finally settling on a padded bench in a small windowless nook. His head was spinning with the desire to possess. He'd been starving for both fresh blood and companionship ever since Edmund's death, and still nothing else had sparked the flame of need so deep inside him as this one particular thrall. His mind was filled with fantasy of Fitz playing guitar and singing in the music room, of Lex stroking his fingers through his hair while they lounged by the fire, of how his sparkling eyes would look when Lex enthralled him to feed...
And the way Fitz had entreated him to feed! That was all Lily's deep conditioning, of course, but it seemed so real coming from him, as though his need for a vampire's fangs was genuine. He'd always known Lily was a genius at enthrallment, but Fitz had to be her finest work yet.
Lex tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps, not eager to make pleasantries with yet another respectable vampire, gushing over some empty-eyed, mumbling thrall and asking Lex to convey their respects to his hated sire. He was relieved to look up and find that the sensible black shoes in his line of vision belonged to his old friend Ruth, one of the sharpest minds in the city.
"Good evening, Lex," she said, sitting on the other end of the bench. "I do hope I'm not interrupting some important brooding."
"You're not interrupting anything in particular. The distraction will do me some good."
"So are you not finding anything you like? That's a bit surprising given how long you've gone without a thrall."
"On the contrary, I may have found something I like too much," he admitted, perhaps unwisely. Ruth was also close friends with Lily, and Lily was bound to be entirely too self-satisfied over her little project's success.
"Ah, is it Lily's little pet? He's quite interesting, isn't he? I think I may bid on him. He'd make an excellent clerk."
Lex couldn't keep the half-horrified, half-ferocious look off his face, his baser instincts howling at the idea of having his new toy taken away from him. Ruth cackled. "What's that face? Don't worry, I'm only teasing you. I won't stand in your way -- you're obviously in need of a proper thrall. Or an improper one, as the case may be."
The jealous knot in Lex's chest loosened. He needed to calm himself before the auction proper, lest he make a scene like an unschooled fledgeling. "I appreciate it," he said. 
Ruth put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It's actually quite a relief to see you desire a thrall again. The strict repression your sire tries to enforce isn't good for you. After all, what's the point of dragging these old corpses around if we can't even enjoy ourselves?"
Enjoy himself?
When was the last time he'd truly enjoyed himself? Before Edmund's death, certainly, in the times when his manor had been less lonely, and he'd had quality blood to drink. Even then, it was difficult for him to grasp more than fleeting moments of contentment -- his master's pursuit of perfection over happiness had its roots deep in his mind. Truly, he'd been denying himself for so long, and in so many ways.
He wanted this. He needed this. He was going to own Fitz, and no vampire would stand in his way.
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