#He didn't do anything bad. He set it up like that for the sole purpose of upsetting Archeros and making him panic

[obsessedwithegos]

BTHB: Hyperventilating for Archeros

CWs: Half demon whumpee, Demon caretaker, (post) Possession whump, Familial whump, Whumpee assuming the worst, Whumpee believing he killed his found family (He didn’t, they’re fine), Self blaming whumpee, Hyperventilating leading to panic attack, names and brief descriptions of gore but no detail (none actually happen, result of whumpee assuming the worst), Whumpee and caretaker have a father son relationship

Note: Canon, AYYYY ONE WITH COMFORT! I think this is also the longest one so far :3c Also the ‘father’/’dad’ Archeros is referring to is his bio dad, Azradel (Who is also a demon) and not Lixue!

~~~~

Archeros’s head was foggy as he was coming to his surroundings. Water was running, he was standing up, he was holding something. 

He brought his free hand up to his face to rub his eyes. His hand was wet but he freezes upon feeling his birthmark. 

It was cold and hard, a sign that his father is or was just possessing him. 

He lowered his hand so he could see where he was at. He was in the kitchen, in front of the sink. He was holding a knife under running water. 

Looking down at himself, he was wearing completely different clothes than he remembered. 

The only times he’s been in the situation was after his father possessed him and killed someone. Which means…

“Oh god..” Archeros whispers as he drops the knife, letting it loudly clatter in the metal sink. “No, no, no,no-” He backs up from the sink until his back hits the wall. 

He slid down to the ground as his breathing was quickening, he knew this would happen, he tried to warn them! They wouldn’t listen to him! He knew it, he knew he was going to hurt them, even if he didn’t want to he knew his dad would make him!

He was just starting to let his guard down! He was just starting to finally allow himself to open up! 

He puts his head in his hands, running his fingers into his hair.

Was it quick? Probably not, his dad hates him and so he probably hates them too. He probably made them suffer. Their bodies were probably upstairs, waiting for him to see them.

He can’t breathe, he doesn’t deserve to, not after what he just did.

~

Lixue’s ear twitches as he hears a loud clatter. “Seth, can I call you back? I need to go make sure everything is okay downstairs.” he asks into his phone. “Thank you, I’ll call you later, I hope you feel better soon. Talk to you later.” He hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket. 

He makes his way to the stairs, slowly walking down them “Archeros?” He calls out. 

No response, but he could hear running water, sobbing, and gasps for air. 

He sped down the stairs into the kitchen where the source of the sound was.

He could see the sink was on and directly across from it was Archeros on the floor in a fetal position. He moves to the sink to turn it off, knowing that the background noise would be a hindrance when trying to calm the half demon down. 

He then turns his full attention to Archeros. “Archie?” He says, trying to get his attention. 

~

Archeros could feel himself shaking, breath catching in his throat with each sob causing him to need to gasp to try to get more air. 

He didn’t hear his name being called or the water stopping. His mind was too busy racing through what possible brutal scene could be waiting for him upstairs. Were they strung up and bled like pigs? Disemboweled? Decapitated with their heads on the bed posters?

When he feels something touch his right shoulder, he lets out a scream as he scrambles to the left, trying to get away from whatever was touching him. 

That was until he recognized it was a familiar face. A good familiar face that looked concerned. 

“Li- Lixue?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yeah, it’s me, Archie” Lixue confirms “What happened?” His voice was gentle. 

Archeros pushed himself back up so he was sitting up “I, I came to at the sink. I was washing a knife. And-” he swallowed, struggling to get the words out “And his symbol felt like he had just- I saw I had different clothes so I thought- I-” A sob cuts him off. 

“Did you think you hurt us?” 

He nodded.

“Oh Archie… Is it okay if I hug you?” 

“Please..” He replied with a weak voice.

Lixue moved closer to gently pull Archeros into a hug. 

The two sat mostly in silence, with the exception being the half demon’s own sobs and hiccups. 

“I thought he.. He made me kill you guys.” He managed to finally get out. 

Lixue runs one of his hands into Archeros’s hair “I promise you, neither him or you hurt any of us. Myra and Abel are at work right now.” He says, trying to reason with Archeros’s worries. “I can call them if you want. So that way you can hear that they’re okay. How does that sound?” 

Another nod.

The demon shifted, keeping one arm around Archeros while using his other hand to reach into his pocket for his phone. He dials Myra first, putting it on speaker phone.

It rings a few times before she picks up “Lixue, is something wrong?” She asks, he rarely called her when she was out at work unless it was an emergency. 

“Myra, I’m with Archeros right now. We just wanted to check in to make sure you’re alright.” He replied.

That told her everything, she let out a sigh “Yea, I’m fine. Listen, I'm questioning the last guy for today, on the way home how about I pick up those mini tarts that he likes?” 

Lixue felt him nod, he could feel that he was no longer shaking so the phone call must really be calming him down. “That sounds wonderful, thank you sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome dear. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. See you two then.” 

“Got it, see you then.”

Archeros managed to mutter out an ‘okay’ before Lixue hung up to then call Abel. 

“Yellow!” They answered, sounding chipper as always. 

“Purple-blue.” Lixue answered, they had a color response depending on the situation going on. 

“Hey Eliene, could you cover the register for a moment? Yea? Awesome, thank you, I’ll only be a moment.” Abel’s voice said a bit more distant from the phone as they talked to their co-worker. 

“What’s up?” They then ask

“Calling to check in if you’re alright.” Lixue answered

“Oh yeah! I’m fine! Working my shift at Claire’s, working register and stock today! No troubles here!” They answer, adding detail knowing that it would help Archeros. “Any plans for dinner tonight?” 

“Not yet.” Lixue started but Archeros moved so he could try to speak into the phone.

“Myra’s bringing home tarts.” Archeros sounded exhausted. 

“Tarts? Nice! I know those are your favorite! They’d be a good treat! How about I make orange chicken and rice for dinner?” They ask

“That’d be nice.” Archeros answered. 

“Consider it done! I’ll get started on that when I get home! See you then!” Abel says

“See you then.” Archeros replied

“See you when you get home!” Lixue replies before the phone call ends. 

He tucks the phone back into his pocket before looking at the half demon. “See? We’re all okay. You didn’t hurt anyone.” He reassured. 

“Thank you, Lixue.” Archeros said, his limbs felt heavy and his lungs hurt. He felt so tired. 

“You’re welcome, Archeros. Do you want to come upstairs with me so you can rest? That way if you have a nightmare you’ll see I’m still there and I’m okay.” Lixue offered

“Yes please.”

Lixue wraps his arms around Archeros and helps him to stand up before helping the half demon upstairs to take him to one of the bedrooms for him to lay down.

~~~~~

General content: @emmettnet​ , @thebluejaysworld​

BTHB: @badthingshappenbingo​

#whump #whump tag #archeros tag #lixue tag #abel tag #myra tag #archeros writing tag #myra writing tag #abel writing tag #lixue writing tag #bad things happen bingo #azradel tag #(because he's the one that possessed Archeros and sparked the panic) #He didn't do anything bad. He set it up like that for the sole purpose of upsetting Archeros and making him panic #comfort #recovery #panic attack #hyperventilating #possession whump #self blaming whumpee #familial whump #whumpee assuming the worst #demon whump #ask to tag #recovery trope #BTHB: Original work / Original Characters

[eriexplosion]

Okay so. I cannot take it seriously when people say that we weren't led to think CX-2 was Tech. Because no we were not just having foreshadowing of the creation of an Evil Bad Batch. The clues led directly to Tech.

We have to start with the fact that they didn't kill him off definitively. Start with his survival being debated (and there's no way they didn't know it would be debated because I choose to believe they are not stupid) then introduce a character that lasts suspiciously long and has weirdly intense beef with Crosshair and you already are inclining people towards believing this is Tech.

CX-2 goes through a speedrun of Tech scenarios with 1. the leg crushed by a heavy falling object, similar to Ruins of War 2. knocked over by an explosion leaving him dangling above the abyss from a line like Plan 99 3. going over a waterfall and crawling out in a shot that completely matches the scene from The Crossing.

One or two of these is a coincidence, all three together less so.

Plan 99 notes mixed into The Battle of the Snipers. Which the Kiners only explained as the notes 'sounding good in brass' and nothing else.

He gets distinctly Tech like dialogue and no I don't just mean 'domicile' though we do have to acknowledge that no one else in Star Wars uses this word on the regular. We also have the exact match of 'Who are you' to Decomissioned, and the matching of 'I have simply cut off her means of escape' to Tech regularly saying 'I am simply-' when explaining himself, which again is something no one else in the show shares. Tech has a distinct way of speaking that matches CX-2, especially as of Point of No Return. (And CX-2 doesn't really sound like Crosshair, because Crosshair is just straight up not as chatty as CX-2 and never has been.)

He gets a long, unnecessary scene with Phee where he suddenly forgets how to be a murder assassin and starts playing soft.

He doesn't shoot Hunter when he has a chance and chooses to instead shoot his own man, he doesn't blow up the Marauder while Wrecker is inside, and when Omega surrenders he opts to just wait for her to hand him her communicator. He doesn't even shoot Shep when Shep starts talking back to him, all of which indicated that maybe for whatever reason he didn't want to, bolstering the Tech theories.

Getting into an opinion rather than analysis here but: Evil Bad Batch is a stupid fucking idea, it serves no purpose whatsoever other than a cool boss fight that adds nothing to the story. Having a CX be someone, anyone they actually cared about would have been interesting and actually played into the themes of family and forgiveness that were set up earlier in the season. Instead it's just more people to kill off to zero interesting payoff. It's stupid.

Every person I spoke to offline thought that this was Tech. All of them. People that have never looked on social media, watched a theory video, anything. All thought CX-2 was Tech and were confused when he was speared. This was not terminally online theorizing gone wild, this was a very widespread thought and assumption.

So, if they didn't mean to do any of that and at no point intended to imply this was Tech and were solely trying to foreshadow their 5 minutes of Evil Batch fight? They did it poorly. When the majority of your audience actively believes you are leading to one direction only for it to be some other direction that you meant to lead them to, the problem is not The Audience Didn't Read It Right, the problem is you wrote it badly.

#the bad batch #fandom salt #you can't just shove everything onto the audience like the audience is just watching TV wrong #that's what they set up whether they intended to or not #but frankly given Everything I have a hard time believing they didn't intend to set this up

[crossedsabers10s]

I saw something about Damon being a shapeshifter and going gender is stupid. Any more hcs or scenarios on that?

alkfdjalkfjdsf okay okay so!!! In S1 he was very much playing a role. He was the Bad Guy. Except that was to mask his real mission. He was there to save Katherine. Tormenting Stefan and causing trouble in Mystic falls are also goals, but secondary to the first, more amusements than anything. He also probably spent literal decades planning out exactly how everything was going to go. Some of his decisions were absolutely for the Drama. Like. Taking a Founding Family Daughter to a Ball in the Lockwood Manor to Retrieve the Amulet-Key??? Dramaaaa. He didn't need to do that. (I mean part of it was def Bothering Stefan, but he really could have just gotten an invitation into the house discreetly at any point prior. There was time between the comet 'charging' Emily's Amulet and the night of the party.) It really just strikes me as 'This is The Plan.' one he's spent who knows how long thinking of. So he has a Role to Play. That role is romantic hero/vengeful lover. He's very set on that, plus I imagine he wanted to present himself as similar, but not quite the same as the man Katherine has once known. Being in Mystic Falls, he's deliberately portraying a version of himself.

This being a very rambling way to say that after he realizes his entire life was based off a lie, Damon goes back to--like yeah sure I'm generally guy-shaped--(insert someone repeating 'generally?' with confusion here)--but who cares about that??? This vampire has spent decades hanging out in every dive bar imaginable and a lot of them had been drag clubs and gay bars and sex clubs and every shade of what society demanded be kept away from the rest of them. Gender isn't even like. some unimportant human concept to him, it's also one humans Made Up that doesn't apply to Other Humans and some of them just enforce the idea of it. It starts off small, in the 'when did you paint your nails?' sense, then he just starts going, yeah this IS a woman's top, but I'm rocking it and I Can Kill You, i think that's more important than how good I look in this sweater. Boots with more of a heel to them, occasional makeup, just whatever he feels like at the time. Sometimes he keeps his original body but wears a skirt, sometimes it's ambiguously androgynous in the 'excuse me, ma'am--sir? sorry, uh, here's your coffee.' And sometimes it's oh those are very much breasts, but that is a men's shirt and his face has stubble. Very nice clothes, like he had tailored shirts in canon, it's the same here. Really nice tops and skirts and shoes. Makeup On Point, expensive stuff, subtle jewelry, Caroline is lowkey annoyed he has such good taste. and also keeps wanting to look through his closet. Throw in some shapeshifting and its 'Are you a man or a woman?' 'I'm a vampire. Sometimes I'm a crow.' 'But what's in your pants?' 'fangs.' Given how very small town 2009 Mystic Falls is, this does not endear him to some people and probably sets him further apart than he was in canon. Though, I do like to imagine that the Originals don't even blink at this and just take it in stride before going back to their Murder Plots. Elijah is particularly gentlemanly, and does all those automatic 'holding out his arm' or 'holding the door, or a jacket' gestures with no reserve.

At some point Damon replaces all the (he usually goes by he because he doesn't especially equate pronouns with gender and does switch it up occasionally but sticks with he/him and his original name bc that's what he introduced himself as and bc Stefan would Make It a Thing--more about Damon throwing away every connection to his human life than him being a jackass, i think, but) but he replaces the pictures of the original Salvatore Siblings in the town archives and basically invents a sister solely for the purposes of gaslighting people into thinking he's the Original Damon Salvatore's Vampire Twin Sister Who Assumed Her Brother's Identity. Elena has to actually ask Stefan if he has a sister, which he denies, except it was a confusing conversation which left her unsure if they actually had a sister at some point or not and Damon somehow convinces her that Stefan doesn't know the actual truth and that he's his own twin. (He was very bored between the post-Tomb Opening binge drinking and depressed episodes.)

Katherine, watching this go down through binoculars: I think I'm proud? Shame he's going to try to kill me, I want to know where he gets his shoes.

i imagine if he wanted to keep up the Masquerade, but walk around town in a different form, he has an ID and backstory all set for a distant cousin on his mother's side. Her name is Desdemona, yeah they do look a lot alike, they both take after their mother's family. Stefan, stuck escorting his 'cousin' around town: please stop inventing Family Drama to talk about, you literally killed off any real family we have.

Damon, who has made a fake family tree and charts and has files on personalities complete with Thanksgiving Dinner Level Gossip: Not on your life. Don't you want to know how cousin Georgina gets back at Evil Aunt Charlotte?

Stefan: ...you need a hobby. A different hobby.

Damon: listen, it's this or murder. you pick.

Stefan: *sighs* Did Cousin Georgina elope?

Damon: She Eloped!! This, of course, enraged Evil Aunt Charlotte so much she had a heart attack and died!! Right there in the dining room!!

Stefan: we told people we were orphans with no close family, Damo--..Desdemona.

Damon, mentally plotting out how Evil Aunt Charlotte's funeral is going to have suspicious man in all black attend, who, when he turns to leave, reveals a gun under his jacket: We were estranged, problem solved. They didn't like Father. honestly, who did?

okay that took a very cracky turn but!! Vampires using their powers and immortality for Ridiculous Shit is my favorite thing

Gradually practicing until he can hold a full shift for as long as he wants and just disappears for a week to be a bird bc god knows the murders hanging around town are more fun than the people. Blood red lipstick and winged eyeliner and feathers nearly blending in with black hair. Eyes a touch too wide or irises oddly sized, dark blue nearly corner to corner. Spends a month breaking limbs oddly often bc he fucked up his bones and now theyre hollow even when he’s human-shaped. Maybe in this verse vampires are a bit wilder, a bit more connected to dark powers, and Damon especially so. Some others get stuck or can only partially adopt animal form, giving them a bestial appearance—and play their part in the myth of vampirism, the origin of some of the world’s stories.

Stefan can’t shift, doesn’t really have that talent and has none on animal blood, but when he isn’t maybe he can float a bit. Some murderous parody of Peter Pan—forever young and forever luring people away never to be seen again. (He could fly in the books, once he’s had more than animal blood. So could Damon.)

#reply #tvd #hc

[babybammargera]

Things bf Bam does for the sole purpose of annoying you.

He'll get bored if you take naps without him.

So he'll probably let you sleep for a little bit.

But then he'll probably yank you out of bed of jump on you.

On the other hand he's awful when it come to waking him up so those are your only options to get him out of bed.

Hes always mocking you when you get onto him about anything. So you'll have to eventually result to "Damn it Brandon listen to me"

But arguments aren't usually serious.

Pranks. So many pranks.

Like he pranks you as much as he pranks the guys and sometimes worse.

He's tried to get you with the clipper pranks (luckily April stopped him)

Fireworks in the most inconvenient times and places.

Silly string attacks while you're trying to get ready.

Or throwing you in the pool if he gets the chance.

And as I've said before he's the type of bf to straight bodyslam you onto whatever (bed couch beanbag chair etc) is closest to you.

Will 100% chase you around with spiders.

Taking a shower? Yeah he's turned on the cold water on you.

Locked a skunk in your car one time. (Honestly tho it was probably more Novaks idea tho bc Bam drives your car more than you do)

Probably trashed your room during the prank war.

But felt bad bc how you reacted and spent the day with Ryan Raab and Dico cleaning it up

Will whine till you agree to go with him to set or the skate park.

Whines even more If you didn't see him land his "fucking rad" trick.

"BABE THAT WAS SO SICK DID YOU SEE THAT?" cue whiney Bambi when you say you didn't.

If you're eating so is he. Even if you've already split your food with one of the others.

He won't get his own food or snack tho.

"Bam seriously get your hands off my food I just got that. Go get your own."

"Why would I? you've got food right here. And you're already sharing with Dico anyway its only fair."

Sleepy Bam after shoots/filming days insists on having all of your attention even if you were on set right along with him.

Like will make you sit or lay with him for the sole purpose of sprawling out on top of you and telling you all about whatever he's currently hyperfixated on.

He watches the same 5 movies on repeat.

Also can't sit still for the life of him.

And can't keep up with anything either.

So your bag has more of bams (and his friends if it's a group outing) belongings in it than your own.

His keys. A spare pair of his bitchy sunglasses. A beanie. His lighter and cigs. Some random stuff of Ry's too.

Probably more than that tbh.

He gets so hype and wild listening to music.

So never expect peace during a short car ride.

Can't ask him to hold your drink anywhere bc he'll forget and drink it.

Honestly I could go on and on for days but I'll keep it short.

#jackass #bam margera #viva la bam #cky #brandon margera #bam margera hcs #bam margera imagine #bam margera x reader #bam #bam margera brainrot #jackass boys #jackass fanfic #jackass fic #jackass headcanons #jackass imagine #jackass x reader #bammy writes

[hxdrostorms]

// Don't reblog this post, I don't want it being spread around!

Headcanuary 2024

Day 16 - Catalyst

The word catalyst fits very well Shaka. Even if he didn't know the entire truth, he became yet another huge catalyst behind Saga's reign, as the false pope. He practically allowed the illegitimate pope to run rampant, all because Shaka chose to make his decisions solely going off, the kind of cosmos energy he sensed from him.

It is possible to make the argument that he was way too young, when Shion pointed Aiolos as his rightful successor, and that he couldn't entire grasp the severity or the true meaning of going against his word. But his ignorance, can't cover for the things he goes on to do.

He was also very young when Aiolos was accused of being a traitor, and similarly to the majority of others, sided with the pope. Without much of any questioning. He also had a direct hand in the harrassment, Aiolia has received over the years. Shaka is also one of the culprits, for contributing to Mu's really bad perception within the Sanctuary during his exile. His primary purpose quickly became to dispell any rumors or doubts, aimed at their leader.

As a catalyst, Shaka became a walking hypocrisy. A man that has set as goal in life to reach enlightenment, and abides by a faith that is all about harmony and peace. During his years serving Saga, he developed an ego, and blindly believed his words above anything else. It wasn't uncommon at all to pick up on the fact his actions, didn't line up at all with his words, or the righteous advisor act he put up.

In the end, Shaka truly wasn't any different from the likes of DM or Aphrodite. In the degree of guilt he carried, yet somehow, he never faced any consequences for the things he is truly guilty of. All thanks to the fact that, after the heavy losses Athena's army suffered in the Sanctuary arc, the gold saints found themselves in a situation where they had to keep Shaka around out of necessity. It is possible that if nowhere near the amount of golds were killed during the confrontation, Shaka may have been arrested and paid the price for conspiring against Athena.

#Shaka vc: theres no evil or bad things in the sanctuary || i'd die for more of this tbh #ooc / #« virgo shaka : hc » #headcanuary2024

[nogoodthing-official]

No Good Thing: Shorts

S-1: A New Beginning

Synopsis:

This is the canon story of how Brock and Maxim first meet. Since it’s not going to be gone over in the main story, I decided to make it its own short story (“short” is used very lightly here). This was incredibly self-indulgent and the writing is a little… cringy weird since I tried to make the conversations flow naturally in this, and the descriptions are a bit clunky, but I hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! If there’s anything I need to fix with my writing, don’t hesitate to let me know. And this is actually the first time I’ve done cover art for this!

This will be set in the past, so Brock is 19 and Maxim is 21 in this short.

(This is your daily reminder that they do not live on Earth)

Read:

10 years ago, Brock was a very different person. He doesn’t like to talk about his younger years, but out of everything that’s happened when he was a teenager, there was one part of it that he remembers and cherishes deeply.

When Brock was 19, he was very aloof and antisocial. Rarely looked up from the ground, rarely made eye contact, rarely laughed, rarely smiled. You could argue that he doesn’t smile much now, but you just don’t know how bad it got at one point. His eyes had dark rings under them from a lack of sleep and an overall poor sense of taking care of himself. Most of his wardrobe was bought for the sole purpose of blending in, since he hated attracting attention to himself. The entire whirlwind of stuff he had to deal with in his teenage years made his mental health worse. He didn't like talking to other people, so he didn't have any friends, aside from his previous teachers, but he felt that it was their job to like him. He was seeing a therapist, but he didn't feel like he was getting better. If anything it was calling more attention to the fact that he was not mentally stable. Not normal. His social skills were taking a toll from all of the combined mental issues, which only made his chance at making friends more and more difficult.

One day, he was sitting at the park, as per his mother urging him to take more time to be outside. He didn’t really have any plans for anything to do once he got there, so he brought his sketchbook and just spent a majority of his time drawing in the park. It was virtually the same thing that he was doing while inside, but at least it was outside this time, so it was better for him. While sitting on a picnic bench, minding his own business, drawing or doodling anything that came to his mind, he saw a shadow loom from over the right side of the table, until it fell onto his sketchbook. He didn’t acknowledge it at first, until the shadow spoke.

“Hello!”

Brock jumped a little too hard at the sudden voice. It was louder than the ambient sounds of the park. The person’s voice was very baritone, so baritone that he thought it was one of the few adults that he knew. But when he looked up at who greeted him, he had full sight of the person’s appearance, one that he could only describe as antithetical to his voice. He had a light blue sweater with denim jeans, and the shirt appeared to have colorful stickers on it, but upon closer examination were actually ironed-on patches. On his left arm, he had so many beaded bracelets of different colors and sizes that it was hard to believe that they weren’t weighing his arm down. The most eye-catching thing, however, was the hat that he was wearing. It was neon green and had long mittens that went down the side of his head, each mitten having a paw print on the palm and felt claws at the end. The top of the hat had a cat face with a pink Mohawk along with cat ears. The hat actually looked familiar. He remembered seeing it in a store, but only vaguely. Under the hat was a messy head of fluffy, dusty brown hair, complimenting his fair skin tone. The person himself was a few inches taller than Brock, but he had a much bigger frame. He was far more muscular than Brock was, but still slightly less muscular than most people he had seen before. His round, blue eyes were staring at him, waiting for a response. Brock was still taking in his overwhelming appearance. The person suddenly looked apologetically at him, after noticing how long he was silently staring at him.

“Oh, sorry, did I startle you? I forget how loud I am at times.”

Brock glanced at his sketchbook, still staring at the person.

“I just came over to see what you were doing. Uh, which, now that i’m closer, looks like drawing. Can I see?”

Brock considered his options carefully. On one hand, he had no idea who this person was or why he was talking to him, let alone why he would care about something he was doing. He might not have the best intentions. On the other hand, he willingly came up to him to talk. Out of everyone else in the park. Who knows when that would happen again?

“…sure.”

The person smiled before walking to the other side of him, sitting beside him before scooting a bit away, to give him some space. The person looked over each finished piece, as well as the occasional idle doodle or unfinished sketches in awe.

“Woww, these are really good! What did you use for these?”

Brock, not used to the praise, found it difficult to find a response. “Oh u-uh… just colored pencil, fine-tipped pen, marker, it’s not really that great, it's just what I do when i’m bored…”

“Well, it’s better than what I could do, that's for sure.”

The person looked over the sketches again and again, clearly not getting enough of it. “Man, I wish I had the patience to make something with this much detail,” he handed the sketchbook back to Brock. “The best I could do was make all of these Kandi bracelets.”

“Kandi” bracelets? So that’s what they were called… “You… made all of those?”

“Yeah!” The person beamed with pride. “I make them as a hobby. Some of my friends think it’s kinda childish, but I enjoy making them.”

Brock looked over the bracelets more carefully this time. Some bracelets had beads with letters, some had intricate patterns, some even had charms with the same character he was wearing on his hat. They personally weren’t his style, and he admittedly had to agree with his aforementioned friends, but he also had to admit, by looking at them he could tell that he obviously had lots of experience. They look like he put a lot of effort into it. It was obviously a source of pride for him. Brock decided to take that into account. “I think they look nice.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, those look like they took a long time to make. I’m glad that you can channel your creativity into a medium that you can enjoy.” Brock internally chastised himself the projection on that compliment.

“Aww gee, that's really nice of you to say. Yeah, they do take a while, and I’ve actually made a lot more than these.” He lifts and studies over his bedazzled arm with a look you’d expect from an archaeologist looking over a newly discovered fossil. “I’d have to say that these are four out of… 50 bracelets I’ve made? It’s been a while since I’ve done an actual count, but-”

“50?”

“Hahah, yeah! I actually have a few pictures of the ones I made! I started making them 3 years ago…”

Brock and the stranger talked for about 15 minutes about their art, their stories from school, their families. It was starting to get dark and the stranger had to go. As the stranger started to make his way out of the park, Brock suddenly started feeling… something. He started feeling sick. He started feeling lonelier with each step he was taking away from him. No. He didn't want to feel like this now. He was desperate for interaction, any interaction at this point. He didn’t care that he was a complete stranger. He actually engaged with him, was actually interested in what he was talking about, he treated him like a person. He wasn’t just a random stranger, he was a stranger who made him feel like what he said actually mattered to people, something he hasn’t felt in years, and now he was walking away. Who knows if he might see him again. Who knows if anyone else will even talk with him again. He was mentally screaming at himself to break out of his stupor and do something. He’s almost at the gate. Do something. NOW.

“WAIT!” Brock practically shouts at the stranger, causing him to whirl his head around towards his direction, stopping only a few feet away from the park’s exit. Brock rushed over to him from the other side of the park where he was sitting, stopping before him and doubling over to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his ears so hard that he almost couldn’t hear anything else. After a few seconds of heavy panting, his heartbeat slowing, and Maxim politely waiting, he asks him, “W-what’s your name?”

The person looked like he forgot something important. “Oh! My apologies, I guess I never really told you, huh? My name is Maxim.”

Brock took a few more seconds to catch his breath. “Maxim. Okay. My name is… Brock.”

“Nice to meet you, Brock!”

Brock nods in response, finally getting ahold of his breathing. He pored over how to ask this question without sounding desperate. “Do you… want to meet up here again? Maybe tomorrow? I mean, if you are busy or aren't feeling up for-”

Maxim chimes in immediately, obviously having the same thought. “That sounds like a great idea! It was pretty fun talking with you.” His face then brightens up with and idea in mind. “…Actually, I have another great idea!” He immediately takes out his phone and unlocks it, excitedly swiping to somewhere only he knows. “Oh wait, uh, can I borrow your phone, if you have one?” Brock takes out his phone and hands it to him. Maxim takes it and fiddles with it for a few seconds, occasionally glancing at his own phone, before handing it back to Brock. “There. Now we won’t have to come out here every time we want to talk to each other! Plus it’s just easier.” He puts away his phone and opens up the gate before starting on his way back home, pausing to say goodbye to Brock through the chain-link fence. “Hopefully we can pick our conversation up where we left off tomorrow!”

Brock just nodded in response. Maxim smiled sweetly at him before saying goodbye and making his way back home. He looks at his phone to see what he could've possibly done with it, and saw that it was opened up to his phone app…

…with Maxim’s phone number. And upon further examination, he made a contact in his text messages. He had to test this. He typed in a simple “hello” and sent it to the contact. Seconds later, he saw a response.

“;P”

It was Maxim. Holy shit.

He had a friend.

———————————————————————————————————————

It had been a few months since Brock befriended Maxim. To be honest, he didn't even know what happened to that even attract that guy to himself. He seemed like the exact opposite in personality and appearance, even in interests. But he had to admit, it was nice. He learned more about him over the rest of the year, like his other hobbies, other than bracelet making. He learned that his full name is Maxim Torres. He learned that Maxim also apparently collects these small stuffed animals, even ones that have been discontinued, and enjoys studying about scout badges. Brock has a few stuffed animals of his own, as well as ones from when he was still a baby, so as soon as he heard the phrase “stuffed animal”, he was instantly hooked. Aside from the park, they also regularly went to places that they both had interest in, like the library or the mall, and other times just played around in the more wooded areas of their neighborhood. Brock also started to notice himself acting less guarded around him, too. He would be more relaxed and act less emotionally distant than if he wasn’t around him. He felt more motivated to take care of himself and looked forward to going outside. He even started to smile more, too. He really started to look up to him and aspire to be more like him. More easygoing.

But recently, Brock also noticed weird happenings with himself. He started to find his that body acts weird when he was around him. It would get harder to find words or enunciate his thoughts around him, and would start being more quiet. Whenever he accidentally brushed against his arm or hand, his hand would react by shaking violently. Hugs usually had the same effect, but then he would just start melting into him, and almost become drowsy. There have been times where he almost dozed off when Maxim hugged him. Whenever Maxim would compliment his art or, let’s be honest, make eye contact or smile at him, his heart would start racing, usually attempting to return the smile with very little success, and hearing his voice would make the room feel hotter than it actually was. Not only that, he kept finding something that he didn’t notice about his eyes before every time he looked at them. Something that made them… nice to look at. Something that makes him feel calm when he sees them. He even started having… “dreams.” What was happening? Brock wasn't sure why this was happening to him, at first he started to think that he was starting to relapse in his behavior. But after a few days of questioning and a few weekly therapy sessions, he finally got an answer. He liked Maxim. In fact, he loved Maxim. Romantically.

He hid his feelings for a while. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Maxim in the very likely event that he didn't like him romantically. He started to distance himself from Maxim, seeing any interaction with him as a way to deepen his affection for him and make things worse, and therefore harder to ignore. He wouldn’t talk to him unless he urged him to, avoided any physical contact, and just spent the day stewing in his own feelings and thoughts. One day, while in his bed, after a long night of staring at his ceiling, he hears the chime on his phone go off, snapping him away from his trance. He checks to see who it is and tries to ignore the sickening butterflies in his stomach as he read who texted him.

Maxim.

He read the text. “Hey dude, are you okay?” Over time, he noticed that Maxim texted closer to correct grammar when he was worried about something. Brock mulled over what he should do. He started typing.

“yes”

A reply came in a few seconds later. “Meet me at the park, I wanna tell you something”

Ignoring how it was currently the middle of the night, he took a few minutes to wake up, stepped out his window, and made his way to the park. When he got there, he saw Maxim waiting at the picnic table.

“Hey, you made it! Hopefully I didn't disturb your sleep.”

Not like he could sleep. Brock found sleeping difficult after his recent discovery, so he was actually thankful for that text. He couldn't tell him every detail though. “No, you didn't.”

“I wanted to tell you about this idea that I got! I really think you'll like it!”

Brock had nothing better to do. “What?”

“A New Year's Eve party!”

Brock took a moment for his ears to catch up with his words. “…a what?”

“A New Year's Eve party!” He begins rattling off his research. “I’ve read about it online and apparently, on Earth, the year ends after it makes a full revolution around their sun, so their year is 365 days long. And as it turns out, their planet will finish its revolution tomorrow! So, how about we try and have a celebration as well, just for fun?”

Brock considered the honestly weird offer. He wasn’t interested in social events, and he hated asking if anyone else would be there, as if it would convey that whether he was interested or not based on the answer. But he had to know. “…Is anyone else going to be there?”

“No, it’ll just be a you-and-me thing. I noticed that you were kinda down lately, and I thought that this would help with that. It’ll be in my ~crafting room~,” he said the words “crafting room” with a flourish, like he always did. Brock stifled a chuckle. “And my parents will be very busy, so it’ll just be us! I know how you aren't that into crowds.”

God, he was so sweet. Brock tried to calm down his beating heart while he considered an answer. Hmm, well… if no one else will be there and the house will be empty… but… hm. You know what, why not. He never really considered how he was making him feel by distancing himself away from him, and it was the least he could do. Wasn’t that a thing normal people do? Consider how others feel? And if he was really doing all this to make him feel better… he would hate to turn him down. He focused on Maxim again and his heart almost broke. He looks like a kicked puppy. No, he couldn’t say no to this, especially with how much he spent planning it.

“…Brock?”

“…Alright, I’ll do it. What time do you want me to be there?”

Maxim visibly perked up. “11:00 P.M.!”

Brock made sure to set an alarm when he got home.

———————————————————————————————————————

At the “party”, more like a private get-together for two, it was pretty calm. It was located in the aforementioned crafting room, which looked more like a repurposed basement, but even for a basement it was pretty large. There was an old TV on a stand in front of a couch that looked older than the TV. There was a table with a lamp in the corner, as well as multiple clear containers of bracelets and beads. The floor had carpet, but the walls were pretty much uncovered. Overall, the atmosphere was surprisingly homey. Most of the time remaining was spent watching whatever was on the TV before turning it to the Earth Broadcast Channel that he had on his old TV. Maxim spent a few more minutes making more Kandi bracelets while Brock watched. It was mesmerizing to see how he made them. Overall, the entire thing was uneventful. Brock couldn't have asked for anything more.

A few minutes before the end of the year (at least on Earth), they both turned their attention back to the EBC, seeing the camera broadcasting the large crowds of people cheering, gathered in a city that, honestly, they didn't know the name of. Confetti littered the streets and there was a large structure that looked like a gigantic disco ball on top of a tall structure.

“Wow, they really take this “end of the year” thing seriously, huh?” Maxim asked.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, they really do.” Brock tried to look like he was interested in the TV, but internally he was boiling in his feelings. He didn't have butterflies anymore, he had an entire solarium. He looked over at Maxim to see if he could notice. His eyes were glued to the TV, mesmerized by a celebration that he had never seen recorded before. In that moment, Brock got an idea. Not voluntarily. This idea kept growing and growing in the back of his mind over time and got stronger every day. No matter how much he tried to push it back down to its original size, it just made it stronger. God, he hated this idea, but it was going to get out of him one way or another. After mustering as much confidence as he could with his current mindset, he turned to Maxim. “Hey, Max?”

Maxim snapped out of staring at the TV. “Yeah?”

“Ummm… I uhhhmmm…… okay, can you do something for me?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I, uhh, need you to psych me up. As hard as you can. And don’t stop doing it until I get enough courage to… do it.”

“Do what?”

“Um… you’ll know.”

Maxim happily obliged and started to speak words of affirmation to Brock. “C’mon Brock! You can do it, not exactly sure what, but i’m sure you'll be able to do it anyway!”

Brock started taking deep breaths, readying himself and praying that he can gain the courage to not choke on his own words.

“Come on!! You can do it!! Just keep breathing, you'll get there!!” Maxim was practically shouting words of encouragement by now. “Come on!! Do it, do it, DO IT!!!”

Let’s hope this works.

“DO IT! DO IT! DO I-”

“I like you!”

Maxim looked surprised for a moment, before asking him to repeat himself. “What?”

“I… like you,” Brock repeats, taking deep breaths like it took all his energy to say that. “I don’t know when these feelings started, or if they’ll ever end. I just… like being around you. You always seem to be like this, optimistic person, and I strived to be like that. I started looking up to you because of that, but I guess while I did, I also found… other reasons to like you, too. Romantically, I mean. So… I like you. And I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same way, and I didn’t want to misread the situation and… accidentally jeopardize our friendship. I’ve never had a friendship, a real one, in so long, and I just… didn’t want to ruin it so soon. So I just… kept quiet. For a while. Until now. By some random boost of confidence, I decided that I wanted to tell you how I feel about you. And regardless of if you feel the same way or not,” Brock stares at the floor. “I wanted to get this off my chest before… I wouldn't be able to.”

Brock was silent for a while, dreading the lack of words coming from Maxim’s side of the room. The silence was deafening. He could feel his ears starting to ring. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he felt like he was either going to cry or pass out. He felt sick. He didn’t want to lose Max. He didn't like losing anyone. He hated losing people. He finally started the first friendship he had since a year after he moved here, the first real friendship in years… and it was going end because he had too much reassurance in how he felt. His mind spiraled further and further into the pit of alternate choices he could've made that would’ve helped him avoid this. He could feel his heart sinking into his stomach, but before it could reach the bottom, Maxim spoke after what felt like hours.

“No way, I like you too!”

His honesty hit him like a truck and brought him back to reality. “… Really??”

“Yeah! Honestly, I feel like it was a slow progression of more and more positive feelings that I got only when I was around you. I started feeling more like hanging out with you whenever I felt sad or upset, and I would feel better as soon as I saw you. You also have this… emotional maturity that I wish I had, seeing you offer these well-put and well-thought out solutions to any problems me or my siblings or my friends have makes me wish I could have what you have that makes it look so easy. And…” Maxim starts to blush as he looks away, embarrassed. “I love making you happy… because whenever you're happy… you have this… adorable smile. Your eyes light up in a way that makes me feel… dizzy, almost. And your laughter? Oh my gosh, I feel like I could listen to it all day. It just makes me feel happier seeing you smile, but I was afraid that you weren’t romantically interested in someone like me… someone immature...”

“I was scared you just hung out with me out of pity or something!”

Maxim paused. “…Why?”

“I—” Brock thought for a moment. In his shock, he forgot about how he even came to that conclusion in the first place. “I… don’t know.”

Maxim scoots closer to Brock and reassuringly puts his hand on his. “Well, it’s okay. Looks like we were both scared of nothing, huh?”

Be still his beating heart. “Heh, yeah…” Brock stared at his feet, as a familiar uncertainty started to creep into his thoughts. Even though he pretty much outright told him, he still needed to make sure. “… do you really mean that? You actually… like-like me?”

“Yeah dude! I like-like you. I guess… I love you.”

Brock's heart was beating a mile a minute at how fast he admitted it. His blush was covering his whole face at this point. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard and it felt like the room was 100 degrees hotter. Was this real??? He suddenly focused on Maxim. His face was so close. He couldn't stop staring at his eyes. …His eyes. Those wonderfully blue eyes. Those beautifully ethereal colors. They seemed to look even more beautiful than they were before. The soothing effects of his eyes still remained, as Brock’s heartbeat finally started to slow down. It felt like the world was still, like a huge weight was off his shoulders, like he could finally breathe now, but at the same time it felt like a whole new weight was settling directly on top of his lungs that was making it hard to breathe again. His gaze slowly shifted to his lips, and he tried multiple times to keep eye contact, but his eyes felt like betraying him today. Of all days. Maxim looked confused for a moment before following where his eyes were staring at. He picked up pretty quickly on what he was thinking, blush starting to fade into his skin.

“…H-hey Max?”

Maxim clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“C-can… I, uh… uhm…,” Brock knew it was too early, he knew this was his first kiss, but he didn't care. All he wanted right now was to feel this from the only person who felt the same way. Love. But he didn't even know if Maxim even wanted to kiss eithe-

Maxim caresses Brock’s hand. “Hey, we can take this slow if you want. You look like you're about to pass out. If you're not ready yet, we don't have to kiss right now if you don't want to-”

“NO!” Brock felt embarrassed at how he practically screamed the answer. He lowered his voice. “No… I want to kiss too… but I just… feel nervous…” Brock looked at his shaking hands as Maxim gently held and squeezed them reassuringly, Brock’s heart fluttering at the simple gesture, but this time he had no reason to ignore it. His gaze traveled from his arms to his face, and he felt calm again as he saw those eyes staring back at him.

“Don’t be.”

They both slowly inch their faces closer, closing their eyes as they closed the space between them, their lips connecting into a soft kiss, as the timer on the TV reached zero. Maxim leaned closer to him to deepened the kiss slightly. Brock, obviously new to this, didn't know how to handle this but tried to mirror his movements. After a few seconds of silence were caused by the buffering broadcast, then it was broken again by the applause coming back from the televised crowd. They both pulled away from each other to catch their breath, Brock breathing harder than Maxim. His face was red from the extremely unfamiliar moment shared between the two of them. Maxim notices how much Brock was breathing, and motions for him to rest on his shoulder, and after a few more seconds of gaining his composure, he accepts the offer. He awkwardly shifts over and leans against Maxim's shoulder, his body relaxing after Maxim’s arm is draped around him.

After a few seconds of watching the live TV footage of the cheering crowds, Maxim decides to break the silence.

“So,” Maxim finally said. “How does this feel?”

Brock is silent as he takes time to consider the question. After a few seconds, he says his answer in a hushed whisper, smiling as he rests his head deeper into Maxim’s shoulder. “…perfect…”

—————————————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed this! I’ll be posting the lone cover art tomorrow morning! 🥦❤️❄️

#no good thing #shorts #original story #brock l. floret #maxim torres #writeblr #ngt shorts

[danceswithdarkspawn]

9,14,18,19

Hi, and thanks for the ask!

9: Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written!

I answered this one, but here it is again:

I do try to write at least one sentence a day; sometimes that doesn't happen. The last one I wrote, which was not today, but last night during my set writing time:

"This just proves how inept the Templars are at their sole purpose. You aren't seriously considering helping these fools, are you?"

14: If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Oh geeze. I don't actually know. Broken Bird, maybe? I feel like I might die if that ever became a thing. Not me and my silly little fanfictions.

18: What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

I have a lot of lines I love so it's always so difficult to pick.

From Chapter 11 of Broken Bird:

Who am I, really, and would death have been so bad compared to mourning myself?

19: Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

From the next chapter of Broken Bird:

"So," comes Eran's voice, breaking the quiet and making me start, "do you want to tell me what was going on back there?" My voice comes out meek. "What are you talking about?" "Come on," he goads, "I know something has been going on with you lately and I-" "Eran, do we really need to do this now?" "Well, I can't get you to talk about it any other way, and there's nothing here to stop us so-" I elbow him in the side, causing the boat to rock, and my stomach lurches. "You're an ass, you know that?" "Look, I didn't want to say anything before because I could tell you needed space," he explains, holding his other hand up in surrender, "but this has gone on for a while now and after what happened back there, I'm concerned." "You're concerned about everything, Eran," I accuse. "That's just who you are." "I know you like her and-" "I swear to Andraste, I will throw you-" "Is this really that hard for you? Why can't you just tell her how you feel?"

#the dancer answers #anon ask #thanks anon! #broken bird spoilers

[midnights-call]

Arcanist's Gambit

Genre & POV

High Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, First Person, Triple

Content Warnings

Sexual abuse/forced prostitution/sexual coercion/child sex abuse, parental abuse, manipulation/gaslighting, human trafficking, kidnapping, imprisonment/physical restraint, torture, graphic violence/blood/injury/death, transphobia/cissexism, religious trauma/critique

Synopsis

Artealior Thakur had always been the family disappointment. Despite their proficiency as an arcanist, their parents were never pleased, setting the bar higher and higher until one fateful day when the scales tipped in Teali's favor. Now able to pursue their own ambitions to a degree, they stumble into something far greater than themself. Stealing a highly illegal artifact from a crimelord is one thing, but stealing his son too is another entirely. When a being promises Teali the power to right the many wrongs in their life, they gladly agree; somewhere in their mind, however, they wonder if this desperate act will finally be the one to destroy them.

Umbra Vautour is not the true son of Lord Ober Vautour, but that's hardly a secret. What is a secret is what Ober has done to him. Between illegal pit fights, inhumane experimentation, and the forced servicing of his fellow nobility, there are few levels of depravity that Ober has not subjected Umbra to. But when Umbra is given the chance to escape by one naive, in-over-their-head young noble named Teali, he eagerly takes it. Now trying to hide out from his father and adjust to a life of freedom, he starts to wonder what he wants from life and what his purpose is. As he watches Teali start to fray at the edges, and the mystery of the artifact they sought from Ober starts to unravel, he worries that something bad lies on the horizon.

Julien Renouard Archambeau has been a major player in the grand game of nobles since he was a young teen. After the death of his beloved twin brother leaving him the sole heir to the renowned Archambeau name, he dove headfirst into the twisted world of business and politics, despite the gentle warnings of his emotionally distant father. With no one else in this world he can rely upon, except Teali, he knows that he must do all he can to curry favor and protect his best friend from a world that threatens to rip them apart. While it's far from the first time he's been dragged into Teali's messes, this is the first time he truly worries that may not be able to save them from themself.

More info under the cut

Characters

#teali thakur (21, they/them, pansexual, fatanthos) has an arcane proficiency that is unmatched, and their intellect is undeniable. However, their interest in the family legacy is horribly lacking. The Thakur family had served the church as their noble warriors for as long as the family line could be traced back, and Teali could not care less about following in the footsteps of their ancestors. When an incident that made them lose half of their left leg occurred, they suddenly didn't have to. They now had the ability to do anything they wanted, holding the incident over their parent's heads and relishing in their newfound freedom. But Teali is a naturally self-destructive person, unable to ever truly ask for help and continuously pushing themself into more and more dangerous situations. At least they're self-aware, and hardly surprised when they wind up getting burned.

#umbra vautour (23, he/him, gay, human) is as intimidating as he is handsome. With finely tuned muscles, scars littering his skin, and a glare that in itself could make someone drop dead, it's easy to believe that he is a killer. His striking looks and learned ability to become whatever other people want him to help make him the ultimate cash cow for crimelord Ober Vautour. But there's only so long you can keep a dog in a cage and treat it like dirt before it starts to dream of blood and freedom. Once he's out, though, he doesn't really know what to do with himself, purely because he doesn't actually have a sense of self. With room to finally grow into something more than an object to be used, Umbra is trying on a few new faces, and dealing with the aftermath of the horrific abuse he faced as he learns to receive the love others want to give him.

#julien archambeau (24, he/they, aromantic bisexual, bloodless) is a man few would dare to cross, and that's not just because they know his father, the true head of the household, would ruin them in an instant. Julien has become a fine player in the grand game, and is quite capable of getting revenge whenever he pleases, having a wonderful time doing it. He's gorgeous and he knows it, vicious and he loves it, cunning and he relishes in it. Many consider Julien to be one of the most heartless, vindictive men within the upper echelons of society, and they're almost right. There is one person Julien is weak for, and that's their best friend Teali. Desperate not to lose another of his loved ones to a tragedy like he did his brother, he will rip apart the entire known world just for a chance to change fate, and he might just have to.

#tristan archambeau (54, he/him, biromantic demisexual, bloodless) may be the ruling member of the Archambeau household in name, but he's far from the face of the family. Never having recovered from the loss of his beloved wife after she died in childbirth, Tristan became a recluse. While he did his best to handle his responsibilities to the illustrious Archambeau name, he often fell short, especially with his children. Just as he was starting to work towards mending things in the family, the death of his son set him back to where he began. He thought the best course of action was to allow his living son to do as he pleased, but Tristan can see that the game is destroying his dear Julien. He knows his son wants nothing to do with him, and rightly so, but he hopes he can somehow make amends and fulfill the role he failed to for so many years.

#lithara (she/her, forsaken goddess) is a former Goddess reduced to nearly nothing, trapped within an artifact where she has remained for more years than she cares to count. None that have held her prison have had the power to free her, save for one Artealior Thakur. With their status as a savant arcanist, they ooze power, and with their intellect and interest in the forbidden, it's not hard for her to entice them. All she has to do is promise them knowledge and power- which she can easily give -and they'll assist her with whatever she needs. Lithara never dreamed that her return to Godhood would be so simple, but she certainly isn't going to complain. In fact, she'll thank Teali for their generosity, and give them everything they think they ever wanted.

Honorable mentions: Voltaire and Celine Archambeau, borzois belonging to Julien and Tristan respectively.

Ships

#wolfsbane is Umbra/Teali. Umbra's ties to wolves (both literally and symbolically) and Teali's ties to flowers, along with their shared ties to death and destruction

Other Links

Pinterest

Teali Playlist

Umbra Playlist

Julien Playlist

Wolfsbane Playlist

Taglist (Ask to be added!)

@florraisons @phantomnations

#arcanist's gambit wip #wip intro #writeblr #my post #wtwcommunity #this one is LONG but there's a lot going on here #like so much #there is only one person who isn't a disaster and amazingly it's tristan #god bless him he's trying but these kids are unhinged #i love these guys tho they are my fuckin BLORBOS #ive had umbra for years and i'm so excited to give him a wip

[justsomething2read]

ACOTAR review (spoilers!)

Star rating / 5: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I have so many books to start posting about but I recently finished this series and wanted to start off with the first installment of Sarah J. Mass's ACOTAR.

Honestly, I stayed away from this one for a while due to all the hype on social media, describing it as a smut novel, not peaking my interest a whole lot. As a kid I had always been into the fantasy genre, so I eventually decided to give it a try since my friends all loved it.

I'll preface this post with the fact that I did consume these books solely as audiobooks both through Libby or Audible - it works better for my lifestyle and I enjoy them a ton! The audio version of the ACOTAR books had a fantastic narrator that carried through the first 3 books named Jennifer Ikeda - her subtle intonation changes to denote different characters was some of my favorite audio work and I was disappointed when the series eventually ended up changing narrators, though all were good.

I'm going to try to not include too many spoilers, just enough plot to keep my thoughts together.

To start, I really didn't like the not-so-subtle Beauty and the Beast theme that began the story. It felt a bit predictable from the moment we met Tamlin in his beast form, through when he just so happened to conveniently be rich handsome and obsessed with her. I saw that from a mile away, but I won't dwell too much on the predictability of this book as the series does pick up with surprise twists later on.

I did not understand the draw Feyre had on Tamlin throughout her time at the Spring Court until I understood the bargain she was meant to break. She didn't stand out to me as a particularly compelling heroine until the trials Under the Mountain, probably because of the circumstances surrounding her stay in Spring, and my general dislike of Tamlin from the start. To me, he always felt whiny and entitled, and I held his blonde hair against him, albeit rightfully so. His lack of emotion UTM completely fired me up. As a certain someone later pointed out, he never did anything to try to save her, knowing she was literally dying for him. Prick.

Lucien always resonated with me, I felt he was more a more trustworthy and caring companion to Feyre, and given how their relationship progresses throughout the series I'm glad I favored him. I also loved how the manor staff remained constant with Feyre to help her through confusing moments and the general bad vibes all around.

Rhysand. Ugh. I remember texting my friends the minute he was introduced to us at Calanmai (a bullshit R wordy ceremony IMO) saying WHO is this sexy night man and why is she with Tamlin when he exists. How he was towards her UTM was purposely done to set up later plot, but in the moments when you felt how Feyre was suffering, in agony and desperation, having his help (and Lucien's!!) set the tone for the switch I believe the reader was meant to make given her chosen partner. Plus the sexy scenes with her in her little outfits did not hurt at all.

The trials were everything - they showcased her strength in every way and made me absolutely root for her as my heroine of the series. Her determination to get through the trials and what she suffered during them honestly only made me hate Tamlin more for his "feigned" indifference. No thanks. The last trial was predictable to me given the step wise progression having bitch ass Tam Tam being the final test. He like barely thanked her honestly. I loved that the high lords came together for her, although again predictable that she is now conveniently one of them. What else can we do though she needs to stick around for a bit obviously.

Overall, this was a great set-up novel that was a fun read (listen). The audiobook was roughly 16 hr long, which isn't terrible and not nearly as long as some of the others in the series. That being said I absolutely devoured this and every other novel in this collection without an issue.

I'm giving this one a 4/5 due to my general distaste for our love interest from the start, as well as some predictability issues I felt made me roll my eyes a little too much, but it was overall a great introduction to a fun and provoking series.

Stay tuned for more reviews!

#ACOTAR #ACOTAR review #JustSomething2Read #bookreview #booktok

[loopy777]

Yeah the whole "Numenorean supremacy" spiel is an aspect of Tolkien's universe that could really do to be bettter understood by most fans.

It doesnt help that the movies gave Faramir's whole spiel about the Gondorians mingling with "lesser men", and thus the justification for their catagorization of the different "Ranks" of men, to Gandalf, the one guy in LOTR who really, really would know better.

Tolkien in his letters explicitly refered to what Faramir told Frodo and Sam about Gondor and it's history as "Propaganda", which Faramir passed on because he didn't know there was anything faulty with it.

There was certainly some level of truth to a lot of it, but it was distorted, and exagerated for the purposes of modern Gondor.

For example, Gondor had some really bad kings, but honestly they weren't really responsible for the decline of their civilization the way faramir portrays it. That "Honor" mostly goes to it's nobility, while the kings generally tried to steer the ship of state. Also, the drastic decline in Numenorean lifespans in Gondor only truly took off during the Stewards reigns. So clearly the kings(occassional Horrific war crimes aside) had to have been doing something right.

Also the image that Faramir paints of the Northmen who became the rohirrim and their relationahip with Gondor is complete bull. It was the Kings who began that relationship and alliance with the northmen, in the form of the powerfull relationship between the mighty kingdom of Rhovanion and Gondor. The eothed(the rohirrims ancestors) were a successor kingdom to Rhovanion, and both states inherited and kept up that friendship after Rhovanion fell.

In other words, while the granting of Rohan to the Rohirrim happened under the stewards, it was the kings who forged that ancient alliance to begin with.

Also their classification of how closely the Rohirrim are to the Numenoreans is complete bull. While they are related very, very distantly, its nowhere near as close(nor through that shared set of ancestors Faramirs brings up) as Gondor wants to think.

As tolkien said, this entire bit was solely to make the alliance and friendship eith the rohirrim easier to swallow for the proud Numenoreans of Gondor.

I think Tolkien would probably have been way better off making it clear in narration or something that this wasn't information to be taken at face value, but he presumably expected to be able to flesh this stuff out in a later book about Arnor or something.

Oh, and speaking of which...

In the North, the Numenorean kingdom of Arnor eventually split off into three successor states. Arthedain, Rhudaur and Cardolan.

Now the impetous was three princes fighting for supremacy, but when you look at the borders, it becomes clear that the bigger picture was a fight between the nations main ethnicities.

All three new states were ruled by Dunedain nobility, but the dominant common people were different.

Cardolan's people were the people of the visions we see in Tom Bombadil's tales from the past, a now extinct people who lived in the barrowlands.

Rhudaur's people were the people Aragorn talks about in his tales of the folks who used to live in the north east of eriador, the people who fell under the influence of Angmar.

And finally the kingdom of Arthedain's main population was the people we would generally recognize as the northern Dunedain. People of cultural, and genetic Numenorean descent.

So with that in mind, one might assume that this kingdom just so happened to originally have had way more Dunedain immigrants than the other two, thus explaining why it's dominant culture was numenorean(with other peoples like the bree men and later hobbits a distant second). But that's not actually the case.

See, the Dunedain of Arthedain also originally had an indiginous, non-Numenorean majority in their lands.

Where they were different than both Rhudaur and Cardolan was that by the time Arnor broke into 3, the Dunedain and this indiginous population had intermarried and mixed together so hard that there no longer was a distinction between the two people anymore. They were all Dunedain.

Withouth losing the blessings of their ancestors, like the Gondorians eventually did in their pride and haughtyness.

I find that pretty cool to be honest, and it stands as a living proof that the Gondorians didn't have to go the way they did. It was their pride, their arrogance, and their need to see themselves and their ancestors as "Superior" to other men, inside and outside their country that led them to eventually lose their divine blessings, while the "Pure" northern Dunedain were a mixed people from the start.

One of the biggest crisis the Gondorians ever had was the Kinstrife, caused by one of their Kings(when he was still a prince) marrying a "barbarian" rhovanion princess, thus in the eyes of a lot of Gondorian nobility "dilluting" his "pure" numenorean blood, and doubtless the next king would be weaker in both lifespan and spirit.

He was not. The king in question was as long lived as all his ancestors, but it was the reaction to his ascention(a massive civil war) that put the then Gondorian culture in it's worst light. Of course he eventually won the war(with the help of Rhovanion), and the long term end result of all of that was the eventual alliance between Gondor and Rohan, but as we see with Faramir's propaganda, the Gondorians, despite the fact they truly did come to love Rohan and it's people, never really managed to fully shake off the prejudoce their ancestors had for the "lesser" northmen.

Now that's a solid case! I especially like how consistently the Dunedain are contrasts to Gondor throughout Tolkien's stuff, and yet I'm not aware of them ever coming into actual conflict. I think the closest thing is when Denethor sneers at the idea of Gandalf giving the crown to 'that ranger of the north,' and even that doesn't lead to a conflict with Aragorn himself.

Really, Gondor just by itself could fill books of analysis of the themes it illustrates.

#thekingofwinterblog

[sunriseclan-dali]

About SunriseClan

Welcome to the clan. This is a blog and archive for my own cats using the game Clangen (with assistance from Catgen, a tool used to customize cats) which of course is based on the Warriors book series. The pixel art is not my own and originates from the game and original artist. However, if I find the motivation, I may draw my own art of the cats from time to time. Similarly, the prompts and events were not thought up by me, and though I can push things in a certain direction, all the credit for creativity goes to Clangen. This blog will primarily consist of in-depth documentation on my clan, the relationships within it, and their stories. At times the events and interactions in Clangen can be a little vague, and I'll usually leave it vague so that the details can be filled in by our personal interpretations and headcanons.

To be clear, the name "SunriseClan" is not unique, so feel free to use it for your own clan if you like. This is why I add my name to the blog to distinguish from other clans that might have the same name, currently or in the future.

The rest of this post will go over the details of how I run my clan and the content you'll find in this blog...

The Basics: Clan Content, Rules, and Warnings

The game itself has a content warning for "mild descriptions of gore, violence, and animal abuse" so please be aware that if you choose to engage with Clangen content, you may encounter these themes. Death and tragedy in general is a common occurrence in the Warriors books as well as Clangen.

The game includes gay, trans, nonbinary, and polyamorous cats, and I encourage this, thus I will not tolerate any discrimination. I don't care about any potential excuses or reasons you have to reject this— if you have complaints, keep them far away. That said, as I go along I will be using whichever pronouns the character used at the time, so if one changes their gender identity, the gender displayed at the top of their pages will be edited, but I won't go back to change the pronouns used in old events.

For romance settings, I have disabled romance between former apprentices and their mentors, as well as romance between related cats. I will also try my best to restrict romance to cats who are relatively close in age, or at least situations where the older cat didn't know the younger cat when they were a kit.

How My Blog & My Clan Works

For every season (3 moons), I'll post an update of all the events as they happen. Additionally, each cat will have their own posts solely detailing their own story and their interactions with other cats, which will regularly be edited as the story continues. The easiest way to find these is through tags.

I currently have asks open. If anybody happens to be interested in Sunriseclan, you can ask questions either to me, or even to my cats! There can be aspects of an ask-blog here if anybody wants that, where I can draw my cats answering the questions you have for them.

To be completely up-front, I am not hesitant to tamper with my clan for story purposes. I won't let bias effect who lives or dies, but if a cat has great potential and their story seems to be leading somewhere, I'm not going to let them die by freak accident on a random patrol unless that could lead to something interesting. That would be like if Tigerclaw died in book two by sudden fox attack before he did anything significant, it's just bad writing. I will also do this for aesthetic purposes— I promise not to tamper with this too much, but for example if a huge handful of the clan has the same pose or the same pattern just with minor colour changes (as tends to happen), I'm going to use Catgen to modify them a little for the sake of interesting character design.

I will follow some select rules from the books, such as the rule that only warriors who have mentored an apprentice are eligible to become deputy. However I will generally be pretty loose with things and I imagine the cats will be too. For example, I don't think my clan will generally put up a fuss about warriors mentoring their own kits. These rules are pretty inconsistent within the books themselves anyway.

And that's all I have to say. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy your time in SunriseClan.

#clangen #sunriseclan-dali

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

[cat-scarr]

"Eye of the Beholder" is a Great Example of Ben Actually NOT Being a Bad Boyfriend

It's common for the show to try to paint him as the bad guy when it comes to relationship matters and this episode seems to exist for that sole purpose...except it fails.

I mean, it's already hard enough (and kinda stupid) to portray your main hero as the bad guy, but it fails because we know that's out of character. They're trying to make him out to be the bad guy while spending the entire episode showing him trying to do the right thing because they've set him up to be a character inclined to do good.

So, as a result, we get his literal friends turning on him the first chance they get and literally talking smack behind his back when the things they're saying aren't even factually correct.

For example, Julie thinks that maybe Ben doesn't know how he comes off to people, and to that, Kevin responds saying "he knows, he just doesn't care."

Yes, because going on a whole ass monologue about how his girlfriend really matters to him REALLY shows how much he doesn't care about anyone's feelings whatsoever.

And then Gwen adds to it saying Julie "stuck by him and he didn't do the same for her."

This episode takes place in the beginning of season two. Which means, directly AFTER the time that Ben literally split himself in three in attempt to attend to his priorities and support Julie's passion at the same time ("Duped"), as well as saving her from the clutches of his literal childhood hero gone bad and then finishing it off with telling her she's "his girl" ("Hero Time").

Observe.

Meanwhile, in "Eye of the Beholder", Ben is doing the literal opposite of everything an actual "bad boyfriend" would do when confronted with issues in their relationship.

In fact, I'll give you a list, just to further emphasize my point:

- The screen deliberately zooming in on his face to show that he immediately regrets being even remotely rude to her, and half a second later him beginning to go after her to imply that's what he would have done next.

- Give him an entire monologue talking about how Julie really matters to him, despite all the problems rising up between them. Here it is, word for word.

“So I let her go. I guess I shouldn't have. But I still had Forever Knights to trash! And after that, there's always the press. But you know, they're ditch-able. Kind of. You don't have to do their interviews but they'll still trash you on their stupid cable shows. I guess there’s no way to escape the things that really matter…like Julie.”

- Showing him then proceeding to go after his friends by literally flying into space, because he wants to communicate, instead of ignoring them the way they had done to him.

- Staying with them once he catches up despite constantly being disrespected. No, not rightfully, because he's literally in the process of righting his 'wrong' behaviour and is still being treated like he's doing something wrong. (For instance the last scene where he proves to Ship that Baz-EL doesn't really care about him, in order for Julie to keep him.)

- Taking initiative to own up to his mistakes and acknowledge how he might have made Julie feel, whether intentionally or not, and literally makes a promise to try to do better just like she asks. And, might I add, keeps that promise in a later episode.

Seriously, how many of us actually go out of our way to do all of this after a petty argument?

Back to my point about the writers having to keep Ben in character while framing him as the 'bad guy', how shitty is it to realize that all of this happened because of him living out his childhood dream of being a superhero? For that reason alone, I refuse to accept the common belief that Ben had actually done anything horribly wrong or out of line here.

He was hurt by Julie breaking up with him because being a superhero is a 24/7 job. It's what he always wanted to do, and now it's destroying his relationship. That's a valid reason to be upset.

Anyway, this episode may lead you to believe one thing...but what we're seeing proves the opposite. So it doesn't make sense, and it's high time the fandom realized this.

#Ben's dad said he's a great boy and he was RIGHT #ben is not a bad boyfriend #ben 10 #ben tennyson #ben 10 ultimate alien #eye of the beholder #julie yamamoto #benlie #essay files

[allegedlyanandroid]

Hello! For the fic prompts! Can I got a 900Gavin A/B/O fic about alpha!RK900 who try to bite Omega!Gavin scent glands when they first meet because RK900 didn't have a social program but have only a primal instinct program? Could pls keep it fluff and light,plssss? 🥺 I read too many dark fics but if it couldn't then it ok too.

I took some artistic liberties with this one and made Gavin a bounty hunter for the sole purpose that I couldn’t figure out a good reason as to why Fowler would assign them as partners if Nines tried to take a bite out of him on first meeting.  I mean... who can blame him though? Gavin is a snacc. Did I think to much into it? Yes, definitely. Either way, I hope you like it @therainnight, fingers crossed that it has an okay ratio of fluff in it <3

There’s nothing to suggest he’s being followed, no out-of-the-ordinary sounds, no footsteps, no nothing. Doesn’t matter. Gavin has always had good instincts and right now they’re telling him that something, or someone, is stalking him. Glancing as far behind himself as he can through his peripheral vision means he catches the glimpse of movement before it’s too late. Gavin whirls around just as he’s pushed backwards against a tree and the impact is enough to knock the breath from his lungs.  

A forearm keeps him pressed against it while he stares uncomprehending at razor-sharp teeth set in a half-finished face.

‘Oh, hell no,’ is what comes to mind and it’s through pure instinctive reaction that he manages to get a hand up between them and shove it as far into the android’s mouth as he can ‒ quick enough to keep it from sinking its teeth into the glands in his neck. He’d rather lose a few fingers than be bond-mated on first meeting like some omega bride in the twentieth century. His other hand is still free so he ignores the glowing eyes peering into his soul, and the curious gnawing over the digits he unceremoniously shoved in the android’s mouth, in order to find the glowing circle in the middle of its chest. Digging his fingers into the minute crack the thirium pump regulator slides into his hand with a muted hiss, strangely warm and disgustingly slick with thirium.  

The android yelps, scrambling backwards, and releases Gavin’s saliva-slick hand as it falls down in a crouch. It stares desperately at the cylinder held aloft in the air. It jolts forward when Gavin squeezes it between claw-tipped fingers until it threatens to bend under the strain and render it useless, eyes are wide and sorrowful, the glow in them sapping away with every passing second. Gavin nearly feels bad for it.

“Why are you following me?!” he demands to know, pushing the thought aside.

It doesn’t answer, shifting in place as it continues to stare at him.

“You can have this back if you tell me.” Half-truths. The android merely curls in on itself, pressing the palm of its hand against its own throat. It mouths something but the dark plating making up the lower part of his face makes it impossible to see what. Then it clicks. “You can’t talk?”  

It nods.

Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the droid looks anything but finished. Gavin can see parts of its biocomponents pulsing a subdued red behind clear panelling mixed in with sleek metal in a colour so dark it’s nearly void. The upper part of its face has synthskin, including his upper lip, but everything below is made of the same black material. Its ears nearly blend into the raven hair on its head and Gavin can’t find it in himself to be angry at it. Clearly, it’s a lost ‒ and potentially broken ‒ thing. Not unlike himself.

Gavin tosses the regulator in the android’s direction and marches on. He has a job to do after all and tracking only gets harder the longer he dawdles. Almost immediately the feeling returns and he groans out loud. The time-limit forces him to keep moving regardless of his silent companion. His target already has a two-day head start and the moment Weiss crosses the border into Canada Gavin can’t do jack-shit to him. He jerks the rifle higher on his back and continues to follow the scent of old blood laid into the earth. Evidently the bastard isn’t worried about being followed so much as setting a fast pace despite his injuries. 

When night begins to fall, the shadows lengthening around him, Gavin reluctantly sets up camp. There’s maybe another two days before he catches up and seeing as they’re about a three day’s march from the border he’ll be cutting it close.  

The area he finds is partly protected from the elements and close to a stream of trickling water. “I know you��re there,” he calls while rummaging around his supplies to find kindling. There’s a rustle of the underbrush to his left and the hulking mess of an android appears at the edge of camp. It looks hesitant, almost skittish, where it stands. It makes little sense given how bulky the ‘droid is and how aggressive it behaved earlier. Clearly it should be able to hold its own going off design alone. Gavin returns to ignoring it after a last wary glance and swears beneath his breath when the wood won’t catch flame.

The android shifts into his line of sight and approaches slowly, like one would a vicious or scared animal. It stops again and gestures to the attempted fire, tilting its head in question. Gavin sighs. “Sure, why not,” he shrugs. “‘s not like you can do a worse job.” 

Despite the less-than-friendly tone, the android visibly perks up. Gavin watches as it rearranges the collected wood with meticulous focus before stripping one of its fingers of plating and snapping off a few wires. The resulting electric sparks is what it uses to light the kindling. The fire slowly spreads over bark and wood until they’re engulfed by flames, cracking and popping in the still evening. Satisfied, it prods at the still-sparking wires with a finger, completely transfixed by the reds, oranges and yellows found in the flickering fire. 

Gavin offers a crooked grin in thanks. “Wonders of technology. You need any help with that?”

The android shakes its head no, poking the wires back in place, before clicking the plating back where it belongs. It looks to be smiling slightly as it reluctantly gathers itself up to leave.

Gavin stops it with a hand on its wrist.  

“You can stay.”

It’s basic human decency Gavin tells himself when he watches the android shuffle closer to the flames, hands outstretched as if to absorb its warmth. With the light’s help he can just about make out the serial-number etched into its chassis right over its thirium pump. “RK900, “ Gavin reads, “-that’s not one I’ve heard of before.” The droid turns to him and holds up one finger, turning it afterwards to point at himself. Gavin hums. “One of a kind then. I can relate to that.”

The android slides closer, looking up with a soft “go-on” like gesture that Gavin is helpless to resist.

-

He wakes up the next morning feeling as if everything has tilted slightly to the left and groggily gets himself ready for the day, rolling up his sleeping bag and kicking dirt over the fire’s embers, while RK stares at him with intrigue. They begin the trek not long after with Gavin wolfing down a protein bar in lieu of breakfast. RK frowns at him then, his brows furrowed severely, but it quickly turns to confusion when Gavin sticks his tongue out at him and picks up the pace. While they walk, he contemplates when in the previous evening he began referring to RK as “he” instead of “it”. There’s no doubt that the android is alive, for lack of a better term, animated and interested and latching onto every word of Gavin’s tales the way he used to do himself when he was younger and less jaded.

Gavin, lost in thought, doesn’t notice RK disappearing for a moment. His return is difficult to miss though since he presents him with a perfectly symmetrical trientalis europaea, its yellow core surrounded by seven white petals. A stark contrast to the black hands cupping it; delicate fragility resting in palms simply not made for such sweet blossoms. There’s excitement radiating off him, nestled in his glowing eyes, which doubles when Gavin asks: “Is that for me?”

The nod is quick as RK moves his hands an inch closer. Gavin takes it with a soft “thank you.” He looks at it for a moment longer and then takes his notebook from his inner pocket to place the flower there, snapping it shut and tying it with twine to really press flat. RK preens, turning his gaze bashfully to the forest floor, while Gavin pretends his cheeks aren’t flushed red.

-

When at last it comes time to make camp Gavin is pleased with their progress. “The scent of blood is more prominent. Even if he’s on scent blockers I can pick up smoke from the campfire. We’re getting close.”

His statement prompts an explanation about the reason he’s in the woods to begin with. The concern he shows upon hearing of Gavin’s chosen field of work is quickly dismissed with a: “I managed to bring you down, didn’t I?” which RK’s lips twitch at. He settles even closer to Gavin today, surreptitiously scenting the air between them, until Gavin asks him about it point-blank.

‘You smell nice,’ RK writes out on a torn-out page in Gavin’s book. ‘It’s what drew me in.’

“I smell like fuck-all while on blockers.”  

‘Leather, coffee, something sweet like honey.’ It takes a moment before RK writes the next part: ‘You’re an omega.’

Gavin is still reeling when the last part of the sentence hits him like a punch to the gut. He takes his blockers near religiously, there’s no way RK should be able to‒  

...but then the air around him floods with hints of metal and ozone. He’d smelled it before, when RK first came at him, but it had been absent since.  

An alpha.

As soon as the scent envelops him it lessens again. ‘It’s hard to concentrate, to control myself, unless I turn that part of my programming off. Although, it means I have to get in close to smell anything.’

Gavin doesn’t know what to say to that, to any of it, so he remains quiet even if he doesn’t move away to allow RK to take in his scent as he pleases.

-

The weather dips dangerously in the late night and Gavin wakes up shivering. “Fuck, dammit,” he curses. Maybe he should keep moving. Catch the fucker earlier and finally get away from here. ‘Terrible plan,’ Gavin reminds himself as another shiver wracks through his body. Weiss is an alpha and as much as Gavin loathes to admit it, they are stronger than him. His strength is his speed and precision, dancing out of people’s range until they tire, or using his omega status as a lure. The last one wouldn’t help him here and the former only works if he’s well-rested and alert.

RK is just now stoking the fire. It helps, a bit, but Gavin is still feeling numb; fingers and toes hurting when he attempts to stretch them out.  

“Hey, RK. C’mere a second.”

The android obeys without question, crouching down next to where Gavin has struggled into a sitting position. He places his hands against RK’s bare chassis to test his theory. There’s a low thrumming vibration beneath his fingertips and the metal is surprisingly warm to the touch. RK moves to clasp Gavin’s hands between his own and slowly rubs over them, keeping them covered while his chassis suddenly generates more heat.  

Once they’re an appropriate temperature again RK moves to sit behind him. Gavin watches him, a question etched clearly into his eyes, but RK merely lays down, waiting and watching. Glacially slowly Gavin joins him on the ground and the android smiles shyly before turning his back on him. Gavin mirrors him once more, shuffling until they lie back to back, and both the warmth from the fire and RK enveloping him is a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

-

The morning after is filled with glances out of the corner of his eye, with the urge to hold RK’s stupid hand, and he wonders when he became so starved of touch, of someone showing the slightest bit of kindness to him, that two days are enough to want to pull RK down by his hair and kiss him senseless.  

-

They catch up to Weiss a short few hours later and Gavin presses the rifle into RK’s hands as a safety precaution before throwing himself into the fight. It’s quick and dirty with Gavin using every trick in the book to gain the upper hand while dancing around the wildly thrown punches. Grinning through the rush of adrenaline Gavin eventually stops toying with the man and brings him down with a few precise kicks and punches. He locks handcuffs around Weiss’ wrists, arms behind his back, while Weiss shouts abuse and obscenities at him. Gavin pays it no mind, explaining with a sick sense of satisfaction that the cuffs aren’t coming off without a DNA signature from his friend and that running would mean a slow death for him left out in the elements. “Truth be told, I don’t care whether or not you’re still breathing when I bring in proof of your capture. I can afford to lose the difference in compensation.”

Weiss falls limp at that while Gavin slowly rises to his feet. When he looks up, remembering they’re not alone, RK is standing still as a statue. He stalks over, bearing a striking resemblance to a predator approaching prey, and presses right up into Gavin’s personal space to shove his nose into his neck and inhale. A rumbling noise is caught in his throat, a growl that has Gavin’s knees weakening slightly, as sharp teeth graze over his throat. Ozone and metal. Wicked claws not present before gripping his jaw tightly.

He reaches up to stick his thumb in RK’s mouth, pressing it down on his tongue with narrowed eyes. RK pricks it with his fangs and laps at the drop of blood with his tongue, all the while keeping eye contact. It makes Gavin squirm, just a little bit, and he’s thankful the heat suppressors keep him from getting wet or the walk back would be uncomfortable to say the least. With a graze of his teeth, RK loosens his hold and puts distance between them again, eyes dark and wanting.

-

Weiss tries to run about two thirds of the way back and Gavin sighs as he readies his reclaimed rifle. Turns out he never has to use it. RK’s head snaps up and he tracks the man’s erratic patterns for a second before giving chase. He’s practically a blur of movement and Gavin watches, transfixed, as he takes Weiss down in one graceful leap. The lack of being able to catch himself smacks Weiss’ head hard against the ground. RK doesn’t seem to care about the man’s dazed state as he drags him back to Gavin, his claws buried deep into the sides of his neck, hand cupping the back of it. He tosses him at Gavin’s feet and offers a razor-sharp grin, nudging the guy with the tip of his foot.  

Gavin gives him a light kiss on the cheek for his help and can almost imagine the tail wagging behind him with excitement at the gesture of affection.

-

What doesn’t fit the crumbling infrastructure in the slums or the dingy office he rents for cheap is the well-kept lady in smart business attire standing next to him behind the desk.  

Maurice Gacy, the guy they usually make business with, is a weasel of a man. His thin greasy hair and slimy smile fits his role of lowlife criminal perfectly. His side hustle of collecting bounties for the Guild is the only reason Gavin interacts with him, puts up with his leering and comments. Trust only extends so far between them but... all in all he gives the money owed and he keeps his mouth shut when talking to the cops which is all that really matters in the end.

RK tenses behind him, something Gavin senses in the clicking of his machinery, and Gavin frowns at the broad smile beginning to stretch over her face. “You found it,” she says lightly, walking in a measured pace while Gacy warily trails behind, heels clicking across the linoleum.

Gavin takes a step forward to meet her and bares his teeth in a snarl. “Back off.”

She nods sagely, uncaring for his hostility and lengthening canines. “Yes, of course. Money first. Always the same with you lot, isn’t it?” The node she produces from her fitted jacket flares to life and he stares, heart stuttering in his chest, at the very familiar face displayed.

WANTED  

RK900, MODEL NUMBER #313 248 317 - 87

REWARD: 1.000.000 $

HIGHLY VOLATILE AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS

PREFERABLE IF IT REMAINS OPERABLE UPON COLLECTION

Metal and ozone laced with a bitter tinge resembling fear.  

A flower stuck between yellowing pages.  

Viscous saliva and thirium dripping from his hands.

Whatever RK’s crime can Gavin truly bear to have more of his blood on them when it’s sure to stain them always? The thought is on the forefront of his mind when RK walks up to stand by his side, resignation already home in eyes and slowly sapping them of light, and in that moment, Gavin has his answer.

His arm shoots out to block RK from moving further and slowly raises his chin in defiance. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

They’re all staring at him, RK with a mix of wonder and trepidation, so Gavin sets his jaw and forces calm into his voice. “You can fuck right off with that shit, he’s not the reason we’re here.” With a nod to Tina, she steps forward and shoves Weiss at Gacy. Thankfully he’s too much of a coward to pick a fight and transfers the agreed upon money to her before whisking Weiss away towards the back. Tina raises an eyebrow at him, bumping their shoulder together lightly as she walks out the door, and Gavin has never been as thankful to have her as he is right now when the unmistakable sound of an engine rumbling to life filters in from outside. “Come on, we’re done here.”

It’ll start a shitstorm, that’s for damn sure, but with RK leaning forward to peer out the front window as they tear through the streets, Gavin can’t find it in himself to care.  

#allegedly answering asks #dbh gavin #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #rk900 #reed900 #dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #mini fic #my writing #is nines courting gavin in this to the best of his abilities? #yes absolutely #does gavin know? #debatable #he's both thick and thicc if you know what i mean

[andguesswhat]

The fool on the hill - Chapter 6

If you want to know what happened on the hill..

(on the Archive)

The hill

*

"Do you mind if I go for a little jog out there to keep me warm?" Tom asked Lea, pointing to a hill a little off the set. 

The production assistant shook her head. "No, you go ahead. I'll come get you when we get back to shooting. You've got thirty minutes, tops."

"Thanks!" 

Tom smiled. He couldn't wait to get moving, it was cold as hell and the wind was blowing mercilessly through the abandoned mine they were shooting in.   

Sophia didn't seem to mind being blanketed in layers of down jackets and getting a hot mug of coffee in her hand; but him, he hated standing in the cold doing nothing, he had to move. 

So he put on his headphones to listen to the music Nathalie had given him and started jogging. 

Up the hill ...then back down again. 

It was a hard to get purchase with the gravel and he definitely didn't have the right shoes on, but Tom didn't mind, he was happy to run. The hill was steeper than he had expected, but he enjoyed the burn it gave him, a welcome change from the chilly set.

The music was good and he lost himself in it, just running around the hill. Up, then down.

It didn't take long for his mind to wander to Owen and he paused and took some deep breaths, trying to stop the thoughts, but he wasn't surprised that they quickly came back.

Owen had been in his mind for weeks now. 

He had been so happy to work with him. He was smart, compassionate, and funny, and Tom loved his curiosity and commitment.... All the little ideas they came up with during the shoot were just so much fun. On top of all that, the connection they had was a gift that Tom couldn't take for granted. They could talk about anything. And that meant anything, really. And they did.

And he loved the way Owen smiled at him, winked at him, and flirted with him. Ever since that day they'd played tennis, Tom had felt that the flirting was becoming highly.... sexual. At least for him. And no wonder - hearing Owen grunt on the court and seeing him naked in the shower... the images came to his mind all by themselves. 

Because Tom thought that Owen had a really nice body. 

And that he wouldn't mind touching it. 

And licking it. 

Every part of it, actually. 

Especially that prominent line around his hip. 

Yeah, he would like that. 

In his imagination, he had licked it more than once, and ended up licking something else. In his imagination, of course.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't made the first move yet. 

Maybe because he thought Owen would. 

Maybe that made him a little insecure.   

Or maybe they just hadn't found the right moment yet. 

They were busy filming and hadn't had any scenes together in the last few days. 

Tom missed Owen. Just being around him. Brainstorming. Laughing. Flirting. 

Suddenly, Tom felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He thought it was Lea, but he was more than surprised to see it was - 

"Owen!" 

His face instantly lit up, his heart began to pound and his whole body was flooded with a sudden feeling of warmth.

Oh God, how he loved seeing him. 

"What are you doing here?" he fumbled to take the earbuds out and looked at his.. friend.

Owen shrugged and smiled cheekily. "I thought I'd check out the set."

Tom just smiled back. 

He couldn’t say anything, but just smiled happily at Owen. 

He knew he should say something to keep things from getting weird, but he didn't know what. 

There were too many questions in his head. After all, why was Owen really here? It was a boring set, it was cold.... 

"God, it's fucking cold here," Owen interrupted his thoughts as he rubbed his hands together. "Let's jog some more, shall we?"

Tom was still smiling, still unable to speak properly. "Yeah..." He tried to get that probably stupid smile off his face, but it was hopeless. "Yeah... Sure!" Well, at least he could manage that.

So they jogged down the hill. 

Side by side. 

Both smiling. 

And Tom felt like a silly teenager, giddy to just be around the person he had a crush on.

When they got back to the bottom of the hill, Owen turned to Tom and said, "Okay, that didn't work so well for me. I'm still cold. How about a little sprint challenge?" He slapped Tom on the chest, smiled challengingly at him "Show me what you can do!" and just sprinted off, up the hill, without any warning. Or without waiting. 

Tom was in no position to react that quickly. But after losing at tennis, Tom really felt the need to defend his honor, so he sprinted after Owen, giving it his all.

But why the hell was Owen so fast? 

If he wasn't warm after that sprint, he didn't know how he could do it. He was almost out of breath! 

He tried to get past Owen, but he didn't know how.

So he just grabbed Owen by the waist in the last few meters to push him out of the way, but the hill was steep, the gravel too slippery, and the sole of his shoe too smooth, so he slipped, fell, and dragged Owen down with him. 

Hhn!

And now Owen was buried under him.

They were both panting heavily.

Their bodies pressed against each other.

And Tom had to admit, that wasn't bad at all. He wished he could stay in this moment forever.

"Your start wasn't really fair, was it?" Tom gasped in mock seriousness and braced himself with his hands. 

Owen turned, still lying under Tom, and smiled at him. "Yes, it was. With your model legs, you could have easily caught me."

Model legs? Tom once again didn't know what to say. 

So he continued to gasp. 

And just looked at Owen. 

How Owen looked at him. Attentively. 

Smiled at him. Tenderly. 

His mouth slightly open. 

He could hear him breathing. 

Felt his chest moving up and down.... 

He couldn't believe how beautiful Owen was.

Tom bit his lower lip.

He felt himself getting a hard-on, lying on top of Owen like this. 

But he didn't want to get up at any cost, this was just too good, so he tried to move his hip, tried to get his leg - 

When suddenly he felt Owen's hard-on too. 

God.

Time stood still. 

Just them looking at each other, still panting.... 

And Tom knew this was the moment. 

This was it. 

So he rubbed their hard-ons together lightly.

God, yes.

And it felt even better the second time, when he heard a small moan coming out of Owen's mouth. 

But that was nothing compared to how it felt when Owen's hand slid down to his ass, kneading and squeezing it before going down between his ass a little to grab his leg and pull it up slightly. 

Tom tried to stifle a moan. 

He couldn't tell how much it turned him on. Being grabbed like that while their hard-ons were still pressed against each other. 

As much as he had loved women in his life, Tom was sure, he could only feel something like this with the same sex. 

The same energy...

The same power...

Just being on the same level.

Owen slid his hand into Tom's hair and slowly, very slowly pulled him down... so they could savor this moment of absolute tension.... before their lips would finally meet....

"Tooom!" Tom heard his name being called.

No.

"Tooom!" Lea was calling him.

No!

Tom closed his eyes for a moment.

He felt Owen's hand slip from his neck.

No!

It wasn't real.

This couldn't be true.

He sighed. And looked at Owen.

Who looked at him compassionately.

No! He wanted to kiss Owen, he needed to kiss him, feel his lips...

Again he sighed. And surrendered.

One last time he rubbed against Owen's hard-on, straightened with a flourish, and let out a frustrated growl before shouting down the hill.

"I'm coming!"

Owen chuckled beneath him. "Are you?"

"Not funny." Tom held out his hand for Owen to stand up.

But Owen hesitated for a moment.

"I feel like I’m always looking up to you," he said, smiling up at Tom. "I like it. It's appropriate."

Tom's whole body softened like pudding. And he wished it wasn't.

Because yes, it was just a joke, just a reference, of course....

But still...

And once again, he had absolutely run out of words, and he really needed to change that. Even when he somehow liked the silence when Owen was here.

Together they walked down the hill. And despite his frustration with this situation, Tom was genuinely happy. He couldn't remember when he had felt more comfortable with another person by his side than with Owen. Just walking down a hill.

And even though Tom couldn't quite grasp what had just happened, he knew he would never forget it.

Owen grinned at him. "By the way, I like your hair flip. Kind of sexy. I wish I could do that too."

Tom rolled his eyes, feeling that Owen was really doing this on purpose. And yes, he was embarrassed, but what annoyed him more was that once again he didn't know how to respond.

But before he could think of anything, they were at the bottom of the hill, standing right in front of Lea.

"Are you all right?"

Tom nodded. "I just ... slipped."

Lea looked at him sternly. "Don't do that again, or I won't be able to let you off the leash next time. I don't want Kate yelling at me because you splashed your ankle or something. Okay, let's go then." She signaled him to follow her.

And as soon as Lea turned to leave, Tom turned to Owen, gave him a quick but soft lick just below his earlobe, and whispered, "I think you're sexy as hell, too."

The look Owen gave him was priceless.

Tom grinned triumphantly.

There. Well, who was speechless now?

*

#the fool on the hill #chapter 6 #rpf #hiddlewow #widdlewow #widdlewow fanfiction #tom hiddleston/owen wilson

[join-the-joywrite]

and I don't want to (but I love you)

@jatp-week Day 6: favourite trope

Not me doing a self-indulgent and stupidly long enemies to lovers au :>

Julie Molina didn't have enemies in her life. She had competitors, sure. Everyone did. But Sunset Curve took the whole cake. She didn't have enemies but Luke Patterson came dangerously close.

Luke Patterson, on the other hand, fully considered Julie Molina his number one enemy. He had zero qualms about saying that to her face and behind her back. He knew his band was the best but Julie had a real knack for knocking his ego down a bit and he hated her for it. Maybe he wouldn't get so riled up if she was nice about it or if not nice, she was less nasty and more stern. Honestly, it seemed like she took pleasure in criticizing Sunset Curve.

The rivalry between them extended to their bands and friend circles. Well, for the most part, anyway. Julie and Luke let Willie and Alex get away with their little forbidden lovers thing because they both thought the pair was cute together. It was pretty much the only thing they agreed on. Ever.

Willie only ever talked about Alex, not the band and Alex made sure to steer clear of mentioning Julie whenever he talked about Willie. The arrangement worked for all sides.

Julie and Luke's rivalry extended far beyond their music. It crept into their classes and had them fighting for the top spot. The teachers were thrilled. It meant Luke put in as much effort as he possibly could into every assignment or test. Even if it was out of pure spite, it was working.

And then, oh dear, and then there was a group project. Obviously, they split to opposite ends of the room with their friends to choose pairs (except Willie and Alex, who were shoved together and assured it was perfect) but apparently, it was important to learn how to work with people you dislike because in the workplace you might be forced to work with people you dislike -- or something like that.

Julie and Luke had never let their rivalry coerce them into doing stupid things -- except the one time where Carrie was convinced Luke could hold his breath longer and Julie almost drowned in the school pool to prove Carrie wrong -- but the moment they were paired up, Julie and Luke both wanted nothing more than to break several school rules, vandalism being the top one and starting violent fights being the second. It was unclear if they wanted to fight each other or their teacher.

Matters were made worse when their friends got to pair off together on their own terms while they were stuck with each other. The only thing keeping them from completely refusing to do any work was that they both were still competing for the highest scores.

Their friends had never been more entertained and the two opposing groups bonded over watching the two most stubborn people they knew suffer out a school project together. The clear awkwardness between them was hilarious and it was a pleasant thing to see them sitting at the same table and not trying to verbally murder each other. Bobby turned out to be the funniest person in the whole group. He had a meme-y caption for every moment they caught of Julie and Luke sitting near enough to have a normal conversation and the others loved it. He also seemed to be able to relate all the memes to the pair and was strangely good at photoshop, which earned him the Groupchat King title. (Julie and Luke were completely unaware of this groupchat excluding only them -- which, for the others' safety, was for the best.) Flynn's favourite was a photo of Julie with a feral look on her face, miming strangling a smug Luke. Me & 2020 was Bobby's winning caption. She wasn't sure which was which and that made it even better, in her opinion.

As the weeks passed, Julie and Luke's rivalry mellowed. As far as they said, it was still going strong but their actions told another story. There were playful nudges in the hallway, now. Teasing death glares across a classroom. Locked gazes and stifled giggles at inside jokes -- the fact that they even had those was surprising enough. They willingly shared a lunch table for the sole purpose of interrupting a mini date between Willie and Alex but most of it was spent in their own world anyway. Their mockery of each other had become gentler and more harmless teasing than anything.

And then one Tuesday, Luke didn't show up at school.

Of course, Luke's band knew exactly what was up, but they -- with support from Julie's friends -- decided it would be fun to play dumb and send Julie to Luke's house, just to check up on him, you know, despite the fact that the group project was long over and she really had no need to meddle further into Luke's life. The mere fact that Julie forgot she still had class and was seriously ready to leave immediately said a lot.

"I can promise you that it's really not as bad as it looks," Luke said from under several pillows, a puffy duvet and maybe three stuffed animals, "but there's no band practice today and I'm not coming to school tomorrow either so can one of you flick Julie's forehead for me? It's tradition."

"Band practice, huh?" Julie said, dropping her bag on the floor with a soft thud. "And here I thought you just had nothing more interesting going on in your life than disrupting mine."

Luke sat up fast enough that his head spun, his vision swam and two pillows fell off the bed. "Who told you where I live?"

"You did, dork. Here, I brought your homework and my dad's trying something out in the kitchen. He misread balf the recipe so it's the blandest thing I've ever tasted but if you're sick, it'll be good for you."

Luke responded to the bit that made sense. "I don't want bland food," he said, scrunching up his nose as Julie set a small stack of papers on the desk in the corner and walked up to him with a covered bowl.

"As if you'd know the difference. Your mom said you can't taste anything anyway."

"You talked to my mom?" Luke asked, looking mortified.

"Yeah, duh. What, did you think I climbed through your bedroom window? I don't care that much for you."

"Aww, I knew you cared for me."

Julie didn't respond to it. "So this is supposed to be a vegetable stew," she said, tapping the plastic wrap over the bowl, "but like I said, mistakes were made."

"Well, what is it then?" Luke asked, leaning over to peer at the bowl.

"I'd call it . . . semi-flavoured water with surprise veggies."

"Joy."

"I know, right? Anyway, I'll leave you to your . . . pillow fort? Cute stuffies. I have the same penguin."

Luke glanced at the penguin that was still secured in his arm. "Don't you dare tell your friends. Especially not Flynn. She's ruthless."

"She is not. But fine, only because you're sick. I'll be back for my bowl tomorrow and it better be empty."

Luke watched Julie leave with a look of amazement. As soon as he heard his front door close, footsteps pattered through the hallway, leading up to his mother sticking her head in his room. "I like her."

"I'm going back to sleep," Luke said, diving back into the safety of all his pillows, wondering if it was the fever or Julie that set his cheeks blazing.

Probably the fever.

"Good afternoon, dork. Reggie says you said you liked the semi-flavoured water and my dad felt very appreciated by that so he's made some actual stew for you to try. It's beef stew this time so please don't get surprised. Did you do yesterday's homework? You should, because I brought today's. How do you feel?"

Luke, who had been staring at Julie with his mouth slightly open in a perfect picture of surprise, blinked when he realised she'd stopped speaking. "Don't you knock?!"

"Your mom said you were asleep and I could just leave everything here for you but you were awake so. . ." Julie trailed off, shrugging.

"You . . . you are so strange."

Julie shrugged as she set the homework down on the desk and walked up to the nightstand to put the covered bowl down in Luke's reach. "You need to come back to school. I feel bad bullying your friends."

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear that," Luke said sarcastically. He paused for a second. "Yeah, I did the homework. Most of it. My mom said it'll help to get out of bed and do something. I tried to play the guitar but she was adamant I didn't do that something."

Julie nodded and walked back to Luke's desk. She rifled through the mess and picked up all the homework. "I'll finish this essay for you," she said almost absently, searching among the pages. "Please tell me you did your science homework. I got a lot of that wrong and no one wants to give me the answers because apparently, I should learn my work."

"Uh . . . yeah. Um, yeah, I did the science. Wh-- what do you mean 'do the essay' for me?"

Julie looked up as she gathered everything into a pile of messy and uneven papers. "It's on the African American civil rights movement. It's factual and ninety percent of the class will have the same essay anyway so--"

"No. No, I mean . . . why?"

"Oh. Uh . . . why not?"

Luke didn't have a response, so he fell silent.

"Well, that's all of yesterday's homework. Get some rest and then make sure you eat. I can't have my favourite punching bag get too weak to take a hit."

As Julie turned and left his room, Luke felt the sudden urge to scream, so instead, he slammed his burning face into his favourite penguin. Yes, she had called him a punching bag, but she'd also called him her favourite.

"Music class just isn't the same without booing you. Also, Alex said you managed to keep the beef stew down yesterday so my dad thought you could try something a little heavier. This is an experimental chicken and fried rice . . . thing. I do not reccomend eating unless you're sure you're okay enough for a full meal. That said, I brought more beef stew in case you're not up for the chicken and rice."

"You can't just walk in unannounced!" Luke cried as Julie set down the two bowls on the nightstand.

"I can, actually," Julie said, flashing a set of keys at Luke.

Luke's jaw dropped when he recognized the keychains. "Hey, those are mine!"

"Wow, so observant. Your mom gave it to me before I left yesterday because your dad is at work and she needed to go out today and with you holed up in here, there wouldn't be anyone to open for me."

Luke frowned. "Oh, yeah, she said something like that but I was half-asleep."

Julie was pleasantly surprised to find Luke's homework neatly gathered at the corner of the desk. It didn't escape her how Luke seemed to glow with pride when she commented on it. She had to fight a smile as she dropped Luke's homework into her bag.

"Get some rest, dork. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call someone from Sunset Swerve. I'll be busy."

"It's Sunset CURVE and you know it."

"Really? I never noticed."

Luke pouted. "Tuxedo Sam says you're being very mean right now. I'm sick and I deserve care."

"Well, you can tell your stupid penguin that Skipper will beat his ass."

"You named your penguin after the penguins from Madagascar?"

"You call yours Tuxedo Sam."

"Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Julie rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "Take a nap, Moody McSleeveless."

Luke glanced at the penguin laying nearby as he heard Julie lock up the house again. "Don't look at me like that, she's mean all the time."

"I BROUGHT CAKE!"

Luke scrambled up, launching Tuxedo Sam off the bed. "Who died?"

"No one died," Julie said, picking up the penguin as she walked up to Luke's bed. "It's Friday and since you're doing a little better, I thought you could do with a small treat. Tuxedo Sam agrees."

"Give me back my penguin," Luke said, reaching both arms out to Julie.

"Did you do yesterday's homework?"

"Yes."

"Did you really eat both bowls of food yesterday?"

"Yes."

"And keep it down?"

"Yes, ma'am, now can I please have my penguin back?"

Julie passed Luke the stuffed animal. "You're adorable," she blurted, turning away immediately to hide her own stunned look. She cleared her throat as she headed to the desk to grab Luke's homework. "So, that group project? We got a ninety-five."

That distracted Luke easily enough. "What happened to the other five?!"

"We're very bad at teamwork," Julie said, glancing back at Luke over her shoulder to see him relax against the pillows.

"Ah. That . . . makes sense."

Julie nodded. "Mhm."

The silence that blanketed the room wasn't as awkward as it should have been.

"I have to go. Most of the teachers said it would be okay to get your homework on Monday, but Mr Hughes is on my tail about your chemistry paper. My dad is making cupcakes tonight for some reason and I told Willie he could have some, so I'll send extra with him to give to Alex to give to you, but enjoy that crappy store cake for now. I left proper lunch with your mom for when you feel like it."

It didn't register that the only reason Mr Hughes would be harassing Julie about Luke's homework was if Julie herself had taken responsibility for Luke. Well, it did register, but by then, Julie was long gone and the only response Luke could muster was a muffled scream into poor Tuxedo Sam.

"Oh, ew, gross. Luke, it smells like the middle school locker room in here. What were you doing?"

Luke had never looked more sheepish in his life as he pointed to the canister on his nightstand -- right next to his alarm clock. "My phone went off about an hour ago and I thought it was the alarm so I did the smart thing and slammed it down but I missed. Obviously."

Holding her nose, Julie dropped everything she was carrying on Luke's table and tore the curtains open, pushing the windows as far as they could go. She stood there for a moment, relishing in the fresh air. "I'll come back inside when I can breathe," Julie said, halfway out the window.

Luke wanted to melt into his pillows. A week later and he was only feeling slightly better. The pros of it was that Julie visited every day with something tasty and a level of snark that only amused him. The cons of it was that Julie visited every day and left him flustered and red in the face.

He firmly believed that Julie only came by every day because she had homework to drop off, but today was Saturday. There was no more homework to drop off.

And she could have just backtracked right out the door again but instead, she headed for the windows on the other side of his room. Why?

Because she's taking care of you, dork.

Luke couldn't help but think that the logical voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Julie.

"Hey, my parents have some stupid couple's yoga thing on Saturdays. Did you break in?"

Julie pulled the windows halfway closed and stepped back into the room. "No, I still have your keys. Your dad tried to give me the spare key to the front door but your mom said it'll be fine if I kept yours until you're back on your feet."

"Wow. She really trusts you, huh?"

Julie shrugged. "I'm a very trustworthy person."

"No, you're not. I saw you lose a pen that you stuck behind your ear and then you proceeded to lose three more by tucking them behind your other ear and in your pockets. You then tried to steal mine."

"I was fourteen," Julie said defensively.

"It happened last week!"

"I felt fourteen."

Luke gave Julie a deadpan look.

"Cute pyjamas."

"I know, right? Bobby got us matching ones when we were like fifteen for band bonding. I mean, I grew out of the pants but the shirt still fits."

Julie scoffed as she stared at the dark haired cartoon smiling at her from the pink shirt. "Looks really good on you, Skip."

"Hey, I like being Skipper. She's Barbie's most intelligent sister."

"Oh, yeah?" Luke didn't even notice that Julie had made herself comfortable at the foot of his bed. "And if you're Skipper, who are the others?"

"Bobby is Chelsea, 'cause he's the youngest of us, Alex is Barbie, 'cause his summer jobs have been everywhere, and Reg is Stacie, 'cause she's Bobby's favourite and Bobby's favourite bandmate is Reg."

Julie's head tilted slightly. "You sound drunk."

"The bottle said one teaspoon of cough syrup but I didn't read and I took two tablespoons. It's okay, though. Mom panicked and called the doctor and he says the cough syrup he gave me is for kids and I'm just really, really, really intolerant. Which you should remember for me because I plan to be super famous with the band and there are gonna be a lot of after parties and I don't wanna get drunk five minutes in. I think the cough syrup is kicking in."

"Luke Patterson, you are unbelievable."

"I know, right?" He attempted a winning smile, but it came off as plain childlike.

Julie chastised herself for finding him adorable. They were mortal enemies and she had to remember that. Then what are you doing in his room on a Saturday, after explicitly telling the rest of his band to stay away?

Julie found it unnerving how much the voice in her head sounded like a teasing Luke.

"You're like, really annoying."

Julie frowned. "I -- I'm sorry?"

"You should be." Luke was sitting cross-legged now, fiddling with the ears of a stuffed bunny. "It's really messing with my head."

Julie decided she liked tipsy Luke -- even if it was just cough syrup. "How so?"

"No, it's nothing."

"You can tell me, Luke. I promised not to tell anyone about your stuffed animals and I kept it, right?"

"Yeah, but this time the secret about you. You're not allowed to know."

Curiosity more than anything made Julie lean forward slightly. "It'll be our secret."

"Okay, but you have to promise not to talk about it."

Julie nodded quickly. Luke tugged at the bunny's ears for a moment.

"You're like . . . really pretty."

Julie couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled out of her. Adorable, she thought.

"Like, a lot of pretty. You're pretty on the inside, too."

"On the inside?"

"Yeah. On the inside. You know, your heart."

"M-my heart?"

Luke nodded at his stuffed rabbit. "Yeah. You have a really pretty heart. It beats like a drum. Making music. Like you."

Julie's mouth hung open, surprise silencing her.

"You have the prettiest music in you. I can hear it like -- like a song that gets stuck in my head all day. It's really annoying but it's so pretty. It smells like flowers and it looks like butterflies."

At this point, Julie didn't think she'd be able to speak, even if she knew what to say. Luke was talking to the stuffed animal, frowning as he struggled to voice his thoughts understandably.

"Sometimes it's just so loud and I wanna cover my ears and run away but it just gets louder and louder and then you come over and you're saying something mean but the music is there and it's not so loud anymore but I still can't hear anything else. Your heart sounds like a ballad."

Julie was frozen to her seat at the edge of the bed. Part of her wondered if it was Luke talking or the fever. Part of her desperately hoped it was Luke.

"Julie, you are music."

It was a simple sentence. Anyone could have said it. It could mean a lot or it could mean nothing at all. If anyone else had said it to her, she would have taken it as the highest form of a compliment. But that wasn't what Luke was saying.

Everyone knew that Luke spoke best through lyrics and chords. His books and desks were covered in etched notes and scribbled words. Luke lived and breathed music. It was everything to him. Without it, Luke didn't know who he was.

And he compared it to Julie.

Julie stared at the text on her phone. She bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say in response.

Mom said you visited yesterday. I was dazed for most of it. I didn't say anything stupid or incriminating, right? Not that anything could be more incriminating than the three stuffed animals on my bed.

Ten minutes after that, another had come through. Jules, are you ignoring me? Did I do something?

Then another five minutes later. This is still Julie Molina's number, right?

Julie quickly typed out something before she chickened out again and tossed her phone to the foot of her bed once it was sent.

Hey. Got busy in the kitchen with dad. No, you're good. See you at school tomorrow?

Julie scrambled for her phone to send one last word.

A few streets away, Luke stared at the word 'dork'. He was sure he had said something. He vaguely remembered yapping on about music to Julie -- duh, what else did they share? -- and then suddenly, she wasn't there anymore. He wondered if he'd fallen asleep talking and Julie had left then or if he really had said something to make her leave.

Yeah, he wrote back, see you at school.

Luke cornered Julie as soon as he caught sight of her in the school hallway. "You've been ignoring me and I don't like that."

Julie squeaked. "I most definitely am not ignoring you."

"Julie, you're pretty much the only person in this school that doesn't keep their phone on mute or vibrate. I know you heard my texts yesterday."

"So what if I am?" Julie asked, folding her arms. "We're not friends, so why should you care if I reply to your texts or not? In fact, why were you even messaging me in the first place?"

While Luke fumbled for a response, Julie slipped past him and continued on her way to class.

"Oh, that is just rude!" Luke yelled after Julie.

She ignored him all through any classes they shared and when lunch rolled around, she made sure to sit with Carrie and Flynn at a small table. Luke had never looked more offended in his life as he joined Reggie in sitting with Alex and Willie.

"What did you do on Saturday?" Alex asked, leaning forward to whisper. "Julie was fine when she told us we don't need to come by at all."

"Julie told you not to come over?" Luke asked, ripping his gaze from Julie to Alex and then Reggie, who shook his head.

"Bro, she actually called Alex and told him that we don't need to come see you because she was going to."

"Yeah, I remember her being there but I was drugged up on cough syrup."

"Weak," Alex whispered loudly, grinning when he made Willie laugh.

"Maybe you said something?" Willie suggested.

"Yeah, probably! But she's not talking to me. She's not even insulting me, which I would very much prefer over this apathy."

"You know where she lives," Reggie said dismissively. "Maybe you should pay her a visit."

Luke glanced across the cafeteria to see Julie quickly whip her head down to stare at her fold. "Yeah. Maybe."

Julie was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Her plans were thrown way off the rails when she walked into her room and found Luke petering around the shelves beside her bed.

"What are you doing here?"

Luke drew his hand back sharply. "Cute box. What's in it?"

"None of your business," Julie snapped, hurriedly closing her bedroom door. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you but you were ignoring me and--"

"You could've just yelled at me from outside," Julie hissed. "I would have come down to shut you up! You can't be in here. Get out of my room."

"No. Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me since Saturday. Jules, what--"

"Fine! Go and wait for me in the garage. I'll come talk to you in there."

Luke hesitated, unsure if Julie was serious.

When she heard footsteps getting closer, Julie grabbed Luke by the neckline of his shirt and dragged him to the window. "Get out," she whispered hurriedly, "I'll come down to the garage, I promise."

Thankfully, by the time her father arrived, Luke was gone.

"Who were you talking to, mija?"

"Luke," Julie said with a smile. She pointed at the phone. "He liked the cupcakes I sent with Willie."

"Oh, that's great. You didn't take something yesterday and today? Is he feeling better?"

"Much," Julie said, nodding, "in fact, we have some talking to do, so I'm gonna meet him in the garage in a few minutes."

"So late?"

Julie absolutely could not lie to her dad. But she could do half truths. "It's a long overdue discussion."

"School work?"

Julie shrugged. "Music."

"Ah. The garage makes sense. Well, do you wanna take some food down? Midnight snack?"

"Thanks, dad," Julie said with a smile, "you're the best."

"Oh, your dad is the best!" Luke cried as soon as he saw Julie walk in with a plate of cookies.

"These are experimental, too. They're some kind of oatmeal and choc mint blend. They taste good, in my opinion."

"Everything your dad makes tastes good," Luke said, grabbing three cookies. "My mom's starting to get jealous of how much I love your dad's cooking."

Juli smiled and set the plate down on the coffee table. Was there any point beating around the bush? Sugarcoating things?

"You told me I was music."

Luke paused, one and a half cookies gone. "What?"

Julie kept her gaze trained on the tassels of the carpet. "You told me I'm annoying . . . because I'm pretty. Because I have a pretty heart. You said it beats like a drum and I have the prettiest music in me that gets stuck in your head. It --"

"Smells like spring and looks like butterflies. . ." Luke looked positively mortified.

Julie, refusing to look up, did not notice. "You said . . . you said my heart sounds like a ballad and then -- and then you told me I am music."

Had he really said all that aloud? Well, no wonder Julie was avoiding him like the plague.

Julie tensed up when she could see Luke's feet step in front of her. Almost every part of her screamed that this was wrong. They shouldn't be so close without bickering and fighting. But deeper within, beyond the confines of logic and sense, Luke's voice told her that this was the furthest thing from wrong.

"I said all that? Aloud?"

Julie nodded.

"You know what music is to me."

Julie nodded again.

"Jules," Luke said gently. "Julie, look at me."

Julie refused to, so Luke gingerly tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her head, waiting until her gaze fell on him before speaking.

"You know what music is to me," he said again, prompting another nod from Julie. "Then you know what you mean to me."

Julie blinked a few times and shook her head. "No. No, that's just the fever talking. You -- you didn't really mean all of that."

"If you really believe that, why are you avoiding me?"

"I . . . I don't know."

Luke dropped his hand to take hold of Julie's. He glanced at her, waiting for her to pull away. When she didn't, he interlocked his fingers with hers. "I meant every word. Okay, maybe not literally, but you know what I mean."

Julie shook her head. "We're not even friends, Luke."

"Hm, well, who said I wanted to be your friend?"

Julie wanted to hate Luke. She wanted to loathe the sight of him. She didn't want to like him, let alone love him.

And yet, she did.

So before the overthinker in her could stop her, Julie leaned up on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Luke beamed at her like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Not the response I was expecting, but definitely one I'm enjoying."

"Don't make me regret it."

"Yes, ma'am. Now, what are my chances of getting two more? And one for the road? Within the next five seconds becaus my mom doesn't know I snuck out and she think I'm still sick."

"Dork," Julie said fondly, shaking her head.

"I'm serious!"

"You can have two."

"Three."

"Two."

"Four."

"One."

"Two will do," Luke said, letting go of Julie's hands to wrap his arms around her. He gave her a small squeeze. "Plus a hug."

"Dork," Julie said again. But he was her dork and he was her favourite.

Before anyone comes for me about the cough syrup thing, I'm drawing from experience. I mean I never confessed my undying love for anyone but I did blurt out some weird shit. Also, THAT WAS LONG AND IF YOU SURVIVED THE ENTIRE THING, CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU

Mara's masterlist

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie and the himbos #jatp #juke #julie x luke #julie molina #luke patterson #sunset curve #jatpweek