#PUT A GODDAMN FRILL ON EVERYTHING

[originemesis]

@deathinfeathers xxx

"Are you going to keep rubbing that shit in my face for the rest of our brimstone besprinkled lives? I wasn't hunting you down! You were dead!! I was hunting down the bitch who I assumed was wearing your GODDAMNED GRUB EATEN SKIN!!" It sounds significantly more deranged when you say it out loud, doesn't it? But it seemed reasonable enough of an assumption at the time. More reasonable than the notion that he'd survived the pygmy slut's assault and crawled off to suck on some flat-faced degenerate plutocrat in a shitty suit anyhow. "And for your information--" There she goes, swinging her legs over the lip of the sill she'd been riveted to for the past five hours and taking to her feet. An accusatory finger is jabbed in his direction like the business end of a blessed spear. She presses onwards. "--he was actually pretty torn up about the whole ordeal!" Torn up about how torn up she was, rather, but torn up all the same. Of course that had changed when the true extent of his dirty dealings had come to light...at this point in time she wouldn't put it past Michael to do a little celebratory jig if he did manage to relieve Adam of his head. God, his fatalistic frame of mind is infuriating. She wants to fight, make no mistake about that. She wants the catharsis that always accompanies a good ol' noisy squabble, it never lasts but it feels good in the moment; a release. But she wants to feel bad afterwards, because she was unduly cruel, maybe stew in it for an hour or two before the compulsion to apologize takes the reigns and she drags her feet over to do just that. Apoligize. And when she has said her sorries, and he has said his, then she wants everything to be alright again. To bid adieu to another shitty ass day, crawl under the sheets and fall asleep to the smell of his skin, the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his warmth seeping into her flesh... She wants to fight—but it's all so exhausting. That scornful digit falls from the air to hang limply at her side like a popped balloon, before she has a chance to prod at his chest with it. "Adam—" A breath squeezed through pinched lips, she turns to hunch over the kitchen counter, elbows on the edge, head planted firmly in the cradle of her palms. "—can you please—please try to work with me here. Or, alternatively, tell me to fuck off if that's what you'd prefer...to go back to whatever life and identity you've carved out for yourself here? I will. I'll leave you be if you tell me to...I'll handle Michael, he's not going to be a persistent hurdle to you...but I need to hear you say it...if you don't want me around i need you to tell me—right now."

"I JUST SO HAPPENED TO BE 'THAT BITCH'- in case you forgot!? Like shit, Lute! I mean, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but you really couldn't recognize me? MY helmet at least stayed the fucking same!" Unlike hers...her whole being, really. He's still not sure what sorts of angel steroids that Sera could have sprinkled her with, but the evidence of a promotion that never was supposed to come to pass under his leadership was evident even now without all the frills of a uniform in place. Granted, he was never supposed to end up face first in a used condom filled ditch in hell either, so maybe she was on to something... grotesque as she had to put it- like always.

Sending a still sore about it scowl over towards her perch, it's with a lesson learned back pivot that he slides the hulking weight of his frame back onto a heel as she jabs at him. Her angelic weapon might not be out for another branding round, but he'd had enough of an encounter with it skinning the neck flap of his helmet that even the gesture of a spear had his remaining feathers fluffed in alarm. "Please- it's not like you're obligated to pat my ass down here. We both know he could give zero fucks with that mic-ropenis of his." No, he wasn't against making Mic-centric jokes still. If anything, they helped smooth his feathers down as he paced the length of the apartment under her unrelenting gaze. Considering he's all she has left now up behind the big, pearly-gates, the late Commander's not sure she'll share in his cathartic name calling, but it can't hurt that its brought his voice down a couple of octaves and the weight of his gaze light enough to swivel up under heavy lashes to listlessly consider her next round of tumultuous tweets.

"Babe—?"

He huffs back before she can project more of what he can only assume is more of her frustrations with the situation-... with him. Her complaints don't fall on deaf ears, though the hints of hell-grown feathers near where the tufts of his hair and the tops of his lobes meet flare backwards as if to cover them or at least filter the tone of her request until it convinced him to ride the long, hissing exhale of his lungs to a patch of level ground between them- mainly the counter top. Tucking in beside her, he propped his chin up on a palm and a fanned set of talons while the golden pinpricks in his toasted gaze swiveled sideways to regard her the way an entirely too tired cat might observe a bird through a bay window. "I didn't carve shit, y'know? I never wanted you to have to be around me like...well-" Gaze dropping to study the curves of the set of claws he rested upon the counter in front of him, he curled their tips under the harmless ends of hell-charred knuckles and sighed. "-like this...zero dick energy disaster." A light shuffle of his weight from one shoulder to the one closest to her indicated he still felt some magnetism to her despite the shame-riddled sentiment. "But that never changed the fact that I needed you...that I don't know how to even be without you. All this life you say I carved? Was just me clawing the fuck out of everything just to keep my head above the surface of this complete and utter shit show!"

With a dropped sigh, he scooted the balled up fist over to where she'd tucked her head. A light press of knuckles against the side of her cheek coaxed another cautious rumble out of his chest. "You gotta understand- I been through this before. Always falling short of what they wanted...expected. Ending up alone. I can't handle it again- not with you. Because unlike my previous 'tasks' from heaven, I actually chose this. I chose YOU...so I can't be here when you decide this-" A soft grunt aimed down at himself and the flick of a tail as it coiled around his calf signaled his unease, but he shook at it like a wet dog. "-was never what you wanted in the end."

With a shift, he swiveled on the barstool to face inwards, cheek still propped precariously in his palm as he addressed her with a strained frown, lips a twitch from parting into a puff. "Because I-...fucking hell, Lute..." Thoughts of her perched in his lap with clumsy fingers lingering over the notes on an old bass he'd insisted on showing her coaxed the lightest quirk to the corner of his mouth, his eyes flashing with the sentiment his lips seemed hung on.

I fucking love you. "...don't leave."

#//the cheep cheeps got me all torn up #//so they must tear u up as swell! happy bday biatch #deathinfeathers #verse ; // dead on arrival #long post

[staceymcgillicuddy]

Day 17: Angels

(The graphic is insane, I know. I'm still pretty sick, so that's my only explanation.)

@hellcheerxmas

December, 1986 Hawkins, Indiana

Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to knock before Chrissy opens her front door and pulls him inside. And what a trip it is to enter through the front door of the Cunningham estate—an honor, he’s sure, to some people. But either way, it beats shimmying up a drainpipe and over the porch roof to Chrissy’s room. 

The brief respite has been granted because the other members of Cult De Cunningham have been summoned to Grandma’s house for Christmas. Chrissy, genius that she is, wangled her way out of joining them for a couple of days, and it’s not a total lie. It’s just not the total truth, either. 

“I do have one last pep rally,” she’d protested when Eddie teased her about his influence turning her into a juvenile delinquent. 

“Yeah, and you said half the squad’s gonna be out.” 

“All the more reason for me to make an effort and show up.” 

That had been accompanied by batted eyelashes and her spreading her legs in the back of his van, so he’d sort of short-circuited and let her win the argument. 

Anyway, he’s through the front door and checking out something outside of Chrissy’s pink-and-ruffled bedroom, which has always struck him as more appropriate for an eight-year-old than an eighteen-year-old. Seeing the rest of the house, though, he gets it. Everything in this goddamn place is ruffles and frills. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s into Chrissy’s girliness. He likes her hairbows and scrunchies and the way she smells, and her shiny hair. Beyond that, he likes how she’s soft and giggly and squirmy. How she says, oh gosh, Eddie and hides her face against his chest when he tells her dirty jokes. How she’s just this… opposite creature that fascinates him on every level.

But she’s not ruffles, and she’s not frills. There’s a claustrophobia to the decor in Laura Cunningham’s design scheme that makes Eddie want to claw at his throat. It only gets worse as Chrissy drags him through the living room that sports a Christmas tree decorated like a tartan and lace factory barfed on it. 

The worst part is the giant, lit-up angel perched atop the branches. It’s… kind of a theme, honestly. Angel on the tree, angel painting on the wall, and angel… yeah, an entire curio cabinet full of porcelain angel figurines. 

“Jesus Christ, Chrissy,” he says. 

“What?” 

“The uh… angels?”

“Oh. Yeah. My mom’s like… really into that stuff.” Chrissy shakes her head, then retakes his hand. “C’mon. Upstairs.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, and he would have made it, too, except that as they climb the stairs, past dozens of family portraits, he is brought up short by one in particular. 

In the photo, a tiny, golden-haired diaper-clad baby is lying on what looks like a cloud, with a pair of honest-to-God angel wings strapped to its back, and a halo on its head. 

There’s no mistaking the eyes or the smile. 

“Oh fuck, that’s you,” he says, leaning in closer.

“Eddie.” 

“Please tell me you still have the wings.” 

“Eddie.” 

“What? I’m serious. That’s kinda hot!”

“You’re so weird.” 

“You don’t see the appeal?” He turns her around, right there on the stairs, and hugs her around the waist. “The devil incarnate and the wholesome angel?” 

Chrissy’s smirking, and her step up puts them face-to-face, so she kisses him. “Thanks, Munson. But I’m not that wholesome.”

The lady has a point. Eddie’s still gonna imagine a halo when he’s going down on her, though.

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #edissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #fanfic #hellcheerxmas #hellcheercountdown

[who-is-shades]

raz dnd mini sesh 17.5

parsley yet again in eeby deeby. right in gods own domain lol.

god comes in and takes parsley goddamn. wheatley sighs and starts fixing up his body.

meanwhile eyes emoji the gals get out of bed wink wink anyways now we know what those arms do xD aftersex talk is always awkward lol. senna helps teya get dressed so romantic. zen being casual about it makes teya feel less awkward lol.

we head toward lil brother and hope parsley didnt go back out drinking. zen tells us that parsley is eeby deebyd again wtf. 'do you think its a fairy thing?'

wheatley fixed himself up pog! he has a tail cool! 'hey teya you match now!' we let him know he looks nice. lil bro is no longer drunk but he wants to drink again oh no xD SP is doing wheelies around wheatley going 'dad fixed!'

zen is taking us clothes shopping! fuck yeah! the person that runs this 'shop' is strange apparently. 'velvet and silk' are their names. clothes all over. 'i really dont think this is necessary.' omg android is being dressed lol. 'you cant just go around in just a belt.'

wheatley calls out to him and hes just like ugh its you guys. the other robot is 2 robots in 1! 4 arms, clothes making accessories and a real wig! wheatley wants to try on clothes for the first time ever! their so cool lol.

they measure wheatley as he t-poses lol. they ask what kind of style he wants and he vaguely describes some lolita fashion. android just looks tired. wheatley tries to talk to android and points out that he got fixed up. android is kinda dead right now.

wheatley notices how awkward things are and tries to break the ice. zen speaks up and says the robots are good at making clothes so its ok. teya is excited for what they come up with. wheatley wants it to be soft despite being unable to feel it. teya notices android is side-eyeing wheatley. she asks if everything is ok and he grumbles hes fine and stares ahead.

they come out with a big dress for wheatley! mostly white, bumped up petticoat and lightblue frills on the bottom. hole for the tail. blue frills and black and white lines on the sleeves that go down the shoulders like suspenders.

wheatley is so excited! 'of course he'd love it!' they help him into it hes squealing lol. teya and senna clap as he spins! wheatley asks if we wanted anything. senna says her and teya should pick each others outfits! teya is like 'you trust me?' with her farmers clothes lol.

SP looks up at wheatley and just says 'fashion.' senna holds out some hats form him but they all just fall off. she then shows him a bonnet that looks like a sky. wheatley offers to help lol bro get some clothes. senna and wheatley bring him stuff to try out. he just keeps putting them on together.

now their talking about why not wearing clothes is bad. senna looks at zen and teya for help. senna abandons the topic and distracts herself in a clothes bin. teya is looking for the most awful restrictive clothing for parsley as possible.

senna basically puts teya in eula's clothes from genshin lol. teya loves it and she looks great! wheatley does a cute girly jump with teya lol. the robots are so happy to make these fancy clothes! wheatley tries to put a tophat on android but he tosses it F. he then gives zen a cowboy hat and he accepts it lol.

teya puts senna in a star dress like from the stardance. senna 'appears' completely happy and dows a twirl and you can see the scale! teya asks how it felt and senna says its surprisingly lightweight. senna calls them professionals in every aspect. (senna is just a little self conscious right now she will like it later i promise)

senna asks what android is here to pick up. he says the seamstresses insisted on picking clothes for him. wheatley insists he would look great in anything. zen says we all look nice. he says it brings out sennas scales. 'thank...you...zen...' she distracts herself by telling wheatley an umbrella would work with his outfit but he says it wont work in combat but now hes thinking. teya says maybe a shield? wheatley says he used a spear so maybe.

we curtsy goodbye to android and go find a blacksmith. his name is smith of course. he pounds metal with his fists ala bismuth! shield spear parasol! he says thats too fancy for him to make he needs an artificer, which he is but like better. so we go off to find some!

we go into that huge building from earlier. zen says he doesnt really know them since they stay here and build stuff. balls of pure light and darkness merge. A FUCKING BLACKHOLE WTF. they shut it down fast lol. wheatley makes his offer. individual floating panels on the umbrella that makes a shield projection! it can fold and attach to the pole and a spear comes out the tip! when he throws it the flaps accelerate it! wheatley is enraptured. it runs on batteries so be careful not to run out. dont leave it around organics. (RADIOACTIVE WTF) dont let it go critical lol.

teya steps back a bit lol. wheatley wants to practice with his new fucked up weapon. shooting range oh no. senna leaves to go get a new mace lol. teya wants to wander. zen is like 'wait your not supposed to wander off!' and he goes after teya.

senna goes back to smith and asks if he can make her mace stronger. mace plus 1 pog! she gets directions to the fletcher cause she wants to upgrade her crossbow. names fletcher lol. he throws my crossbow and it explodes fucking hell. crossbow plus 1 pog. time to head back to wheatley.

cutting to zen and teya! shes being a tourist lol. she found the library! split in 2, one is classic one is futuristic. time to research the feywild! teya sits in the uncomfy chair lol. one of the books says the feywilds are always changing so stay on the road.

#senna #dnd #dnd adventures

[jeromeifyouwantto]

Why is it so hard to find a bra without a dopey little bow in the middle or cups covered in lace? I’d like to wear a thin tank top out in public without looking like I have a catastrophic boob rash or am smuggling a small spider around under my shirt. 

FUCK

#about the me #I'm grown #I don't need to constantly reassure the public of my femininity #PUT A GODDAMN FRILL ON EVERYTHING #IN CASE OF MAN? #??

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Emmaaa❤️❤️ may I request a headcanon where the easy boys fell in love with a shy reader? Maybe with Bull, Tab, Luz, Speirs Babe and Malarkey? Thank you❤️ love you

Aaahhh Fran my dear, what a great way to start off my birthday week tysm for sending one in💓

Bull Randleman:

Bull is super protective of you, always has been.

He got 10 million times more protective when he realises he's head over ass in love with you.

He's always there, always got your back no matter what.

He likes that you're most comfortable when you're with him, makes him feel like he's special.

When he was stuck in that barn in Holland, separated from everyone, thinking about you was the only thing that kept his strength up.

Its then he decides he has to tell you how he feels.

He's pretty direct about it, he doesn't want to beat around the bush with this.

"Look darlin', I ain't gonna mess around here, because to be completely honest I'm head over heels in love with you."

You get all blushy and stuttery and he thinks it's probably the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

He can tell you're flustered, so he grabs your cheeks in his hands and rubs his thumbs over them gently.

"Can I kiss ya darlin'?" He asks softly

You can't even speak you're so surprised, so you nod and he leans in and kisses you slowly, not wanting to rush anything and ruin the perfect moment.

"Hell Bull," you giggle, "I've been hoping you'd say something for ages."

"And why didn't you say anything, huh?" He laughed.

"Because I was too scared you'd turn me down."

"Well," he sighed, kissing your forehead, "I just can't quite believe I ever gave you the impression I'd turn you down. Guess I'll just have to prove to you how much I love you from now on."

Floyd Talbert

Tab is a total flirt

He's all cheesy pickup likes at first and they make you blush like hell but you'll never give him the satisfaction of laughing at them because they're so ridiculous.

But he takes your blushing as encouragement so he keeps going for weeks until eventually he gets a giggle out of you and it makes all his efforts worthwhile because you have the most lovely laugh.

After that you start getting to know each other a little better, and you start to get closer.

He's delighted when you start to open up and share more with him.

It kind of hits him like a slap in the face that shit, he's in love love you.

He's a total softie with you

He's quite subtle about it at first. He does small nice things for you; makes you coffee, gives you half his k ration when supplies are low.

He's surprisingly reluctant to profess his feelings for you. He thinks there's no way you'll see him as anything other than a friend.

Chuck tells him he's an idiot, that you've clearly got feelings for him too and be should just tell you already.

So he does...in the most muddled way possible. It all kinda comes out like word vomit.

"So-I-Just-wanna-tell-you-I-think-you're-wonderful-and-I'm-a-little-bit-in-love-with-you."

You're dumbfounded, and you can't quite comprehend what he's just said.

"Wait," you whisper, "are you being serious right now?"

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've kinda got it really bad for you."

You giggle and blush like hell, and he grins like an idiot because he loves that giggle so much

"How about I take you out for dinner sometime?" He asks cheekily, and his grin widens when you blush harder and agree to go.

He saunters over to you and plants a quick kiss on your lips, before putting his arm around your shoulder and leading you off, pointedly ignoring Chucks wolf whistles when the two of you walk past him.

George Luz

George is the biggest flirt around, and he makes no secret in the fact he likes you.

He goes out of his way to compliment you; tells you that you make Rita Hayworth look plain, that you make sunshine look dull.

The more he makes you blush, the harder he tries. He knows he can crack your shy shell and find the gem underneath.

He's a big fan of cheesy movie quotes, which you adamantly refuse to indulge him with, but he keeps trying nonetheless.

He's tried them all, so he decides this time to pull out all the stops and be as direct about his feelings as possible.

"See that's what's wrong with you," he starts smoothly, "you should be kissed, and often. And by someone who knows how."

He pauses for a second to judge your reaction, and when he sees you smiling he sweeps you into a dramatic dip and kisses you passionately, Clarke Gable style.

He quite literally swept you off your feet, and he knows it too.

Once he knows he's successfully gotten your attention for real, he softens. He dials down the flamboyant flirting and instead he just talks to you and gets to know you for real.

He loves to cuddle you in close and have whispered conversations for hours.

He's very affectionate too, always has to be holding your hand or have his arm around you.

He brings you out of your shell, his enthusiasm and fun nature is so infectious you can't help but be swept up by it and join in on the fun.

Ronald Speirs

Ron is incredibly different when he's with you, much to everyone's surprise.

He laughs with you, like....a lot.

At first you were very cautious with him. You'd heard the stories and weren't too sure what to make of him.

But when you get to know him you realise that he is totally different to what everyone said.

You found that he is really easy to talk to, and he has a wicked sense of humour.

He liked that you were a bit more quiet than others, it made you much easier for him to talk to.

He tells the most brilliant stories, and the two of you usually end up talking for hours about all sorts; history, movies, music, anything and everything.

Its obvious to everyone but you that he has feelings for you.

He thinks you must surely know, that it was completely obvious he'd fallen in love with you. I mean he spends all his free time with you, and he never talks to anyone else the way he does with you.

Lipton eventually realises that no, you don't actually have a clue how Speirs feels about you, so he tells him that you're oblivious.

Naturally Speirs is all action and matter of fact, so he decides to just tell you how he feels and see what happens.

He's kinda nervous despite outward appearances, but he'd never admit it to himself or anyone else.

So he literally just comes out and says it one day; no frills, no fuss.

You're disarmed by his straightforwardness. You'd hoped that he might return your feelings but you'd thought there was no way.

You've never seen him smile brighter than when you told him you returned his feelings.

He wasted no time after that; he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, his other hand cupping your jaw.

Everyone was delighted you'd mellowed out ole Sparky a little, but of course nobody was brave enough to say it out loud in case he found out.

Babe Heffron

Babe....is a bit of a mess around you.

He tries to act all cool and smooth, but he's really a total disaster because he's so distracted staring at you.

When you first start getting to know each other he does most of the talking. He's nervous as hell around you so his mouth just keeps going.

Lucky for him though you find it endearing, and it helps you feel more comfortable with him so you start to open up too.

After that he prefers to listen instead of talk, because he's fascinated by everything you tell him.

You're two peas in a pod, and everyone thinks you're a miracle worker because you've managed to get Babe to stop talking for 5 minutes.

Its clear to everyone that the guy is totally in love with you, they're just waiting for him to do something about it.

So of course Bill is the one to tell him to get his act together.

"Get your goddamn head out of your ass Babe and stop acting like a lovesick puppy. Go tell her you love her and get the goddamn girl."

It takes him awhile, and he really has to gear himself up to do it. He's attempted to say it so many times but he keeps chickening out.

One night you two are hanging out just the two of you and he manages to get it out.

He stutters like hell, but you think it's seriously adorable, and you're grinning like an idiot by the time he's finished.

"Well, don't leave me hanging," he says nervously, "do you feel the same or...?"

You say nothing, instead leaning towards him and kissing him sweetly.

You're both blushing like two cherry tomatoes, but you're smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

Then you're even more inseparable. Bill thinks you're joined at the hip or something.

You're really cute together though, always holding hands or cuddled up.

What you don't see is that Babe rarely takes his eyes off of you, and he still looks like a lovesick puppy but honestly he couldn't care less.

Don Malarkey

Don tries to act all cool when the boys are around, but when he's alone with you he's much quieter.

It's those quiet moments alone together that you enjoy the most.

He's a great listener, and he has a gentle way of pushing you to open up and be yourself with him.

You guys grow close pretty quickly, and start spending more and more time together.

He finds himself getting lost in conversations with you, and getting distracted staring at you.

He realises one day when you're telling a funny story about your childhood and he hears your wonderful laugh that he's totally in love with you.

He doesn't say anything for awhile, thinking it all over. He contemplates if he should even tell you or not because there's a chance you'll laugh I'm his face and tell him no way in hell.

Eventually he decides to screw it and just tell you. But he's not gonna just come out and say it, he's gotta do some kinda gesture. But nothing too overly dramatic because you wouldn't like that.

So he turns up to meet you with a bunch of flowers he picked himself, and he's been trying to fix his hair for the last goddamn half hour.

He's got a speech prepared and everything, but he's pretty sure he's forgotten half of it.

"Look I...I don't know if you feel the same or anything but...I just want you to know that I am head over heels in love with you. And I don't expect you to return the feelings or anything but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance."

You could tell he was nervous about the whole thing, and it was quite possibly the most endearing thing you'd ever seen in your life.

You took the flowers from him and placed them on a side table quickly before jumping into his arms and hugging him tight.

"Woah," he chuckles, "I'm taking this as a good sign then."

You pulled back your head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes happily, nodding your agreement.

He eyes crinkled when he smiles and he leans in, pressing his lips against yours firmly.

Its clear to everyone how perfect you are for each other; you calm his wilder side and he brings out your more outgoing side.

Well there you have it! Hope you all like it and ilysm Fran thanks so much for such a fun request to kick off the birthday week fun💕

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck

#band of brothers #bob #bull randleman #floyd talbert #george luz #ronald speirs #ron speirs #babe heffron #don malarkey #band of brothers x reader #hbo band of brothers #band of brothers fandom #band of brothers imagine #holdingforgeneralhugs #birthdayweekbonanza

[bulkhummus]

Welcome to Night Vale SPOILERS/////

listened to wtnv 171 again and having big thoughts and feelings about a cecils literal manic episode about (literally, heavily implied) killing the version of himself in the mirror while on public radio in light of wtnv 192

some quotes that really got my gears turning regarding the big plot drop of supposedly cecils father and his inability to remember correctly (not new But really prevalent in recent episodes) and im not making connections or anything im just drunk and spitballing and the episode really had some gnarly philosophical questions dinnit?

1. “If you think about a memory long enough, doesn’t that mutate the truth? Isn’t every act of remembering another log on the fire of lies?”

“You think awareness and manifestation are one and the same, don’t you?”

vs

“Could that [a crack] be an egg, or a twig, or a leg? Narrative is everything, isn’t it?”

An unreliable narrative is one of my favorite things in story telling. One of my favorite books has to do with the unreliability of memory, and how a distorted memory (from time, trauma, bias etc) comes to be the most accurate version each time you remember it. It gets watered down each time. I think its cool that Cecil is aware of that, and also that its understandably a huge point of distress for him. He’s constantly misremembering and eventually trying to decipher if what he feels or thinks is even real. Pulling things out of context often makes them seem crazy, when there is no narrative to connect them. Cecil’s job is literally to offer that narrative, but what happens when he can no longer supply a somewhat coherent one? What happens to Night Vale? Why does cat ballou not hold up anymore? also i love that cecil watches the movie on repeat (mentioned at some point) bc its like that thing about people who are anxious like to watch things theyve seen because its low stakes and you know whats gonna happen and you dont have to make space for new story or characters in your head? IMAGINE PUTTING ON YOUR COMFORT MOVIE TO FIND THAT ITS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT???????? ouch

2.“When was the last time you saw your mother?…Did she lean over your sobbing face and ask you: ‘Why are you crying when you don’t even exist?’ Did she tell you again about the mirror?’”

vs

“What unholy monster [the one in the mirror] cries like a child, what does it want—Why won’t it stop?!”

“Did you ponder the idea that such a coat was so basic, [angrily] so unassuming, so without frill or feature that no one had ever thought to create it? [angrily, scarily] Do you want to know what’s in the drawer below the table?”

I like here, that these quotes are kind of like call and response within the episode. Cecil talks of his mother asking him why hes crying, and moments later Cecil wonders why the monster in the mirror is crying. His mother tells him he doesn’t exist (SO fucked up) and moments later he’s the angriest he is the whole episode (voice literally rumbling goddamN BALDWIN) talking about how something could be so unassuming that no one bothered to even spend the time or energy to make it. Didn’t think anybody would need it or want it. Why else would they include that angry thought about being so unneeded that the thought never even crossed a persons mind to make the thing? It it weren’t Cecil talking about himself? Panicking about his existence and if he’d ever been wanted or needed to the point of him being there for whoever does?

2. B —“You didn’t ask for any of this, did you? But what have you ever asked from the universe that you could not get yourself, and when has the universe ever obliged?”

c-carlos? Maybe is that one thing possibly, good, that has simply happened to cecil ??? (And Their SON??? Obviously but that wouldn’t have happened without carlos there) im just thinkin abt it

3. “What was it your mother said before she left home when you were a teenager? Did she tell you she was an oracle?”

CECIL IS AN ORACLE!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE I wrote a big long rant about wtnv 192 and now I listened to this episode and had a conniption when he mentioned her disdainfully being one. A mother telling a child they know them and who they are can feel like divine truth, and if they call you a monster and tell you that you don’t exist, then is it still divine truth? Is she still all knowing? Do you believe her because shes your mother and mothers know best?

4. Do you notice it wears black rings?”

Cecil says this of the monster in the mirror, and says this about the man digging into the tree in wtnv 192, and he thinks that that man is his father. BUT if the monster in the mirror is the cecil we know, who killed the mirror version of himself from another reality who was a teenager (as it’s been implied since cassettes and the intern anyways) then what does that imply???? oy vey

IN CONCLUSION : none of this is literally an essay about anything. Im just drunk on a sunday and put on night vale To fold clothes. i wonder if other people in night vale are as fragmented by the weird reality bubble they are in as cecil? he seems to be caught in the in between one foot in and out With cal and his father and sometimes knowing carlos and sometimes not and whatnot

ALSO AS A FUNNY SIDE BAR: IMAGINE BEING A PERSON IN NIGHT VALE maybe u just cooked dinner maybe ur taking a drive and the fucking local radio host is just having a manic episode with severe instances of unreality (in every sense of the word) on the radio ?????? i so deeply wish after weird episodes like these where cecil is just balling out in the disassociation soup that in the following episode someone would say something about it in passing like “yeah what WAS that the other night cecil? u know we can hear u when u do that right”

also in the REAL world like our world, cecil is a direct metaphor for ptsd, feelings of unreality brought on by anxiety, period of disassociation and just like the mental state being fragmented by trauma. Its like such a direct metaphor lmao.

also like the episode had everything and Cecil Baldwin really used the full command of his voice. truly bonkers, that he could pack so many different emotions into a 25 min spiraling monologue. it could have been so boring but he really organically (while still imploring Cecil palmers flare for radio host dramatics) had the full decadent range of delicious anger, fear, disdain, apathy, panic, disgust, demand, hollow joy, etc and that he sounds so BITTER at the end when he says “wont you have a good night, night vale?” it feels like such a slap to the listeners face because while we get to end the episode (and the town in the show), cecil palmer continues to writhe in these questions and worries and fears. Like it was SUCH a good way to end it.

—also all the funky sound design is so good and I like then warped version of the main theme! they should do more of that (tastefully)

if you’ve read this far godspeed and keep on trucking idk what the fuck was in that vodka lemonade but im wired

#all of this is MY OPINIONS not facts so dont be mean im just having fun #tell me your thoughts i want OLEASANT DISCOURSE #PLEASANT BEING KEY #Come chat with me about it and also anoht what the FUCK carlos’ role in night vale is and if its really him just being cecils husband #Wtnv #Welcome to night vale #thought tag #Wtnv spoilers

[shizukateal]

In light of the Tokyo Mew Mew reboot being revealed, what do you think of the new designs? (Personally, I'm a huge fan! I love the triangle trimming, it adds a lot.)

Oh, we have visual confirmation? Let's see-

Oh umhnsnojnernjvrkslfsd.

Sorry, anon, I disagree. Most of these choices are downgrades.

Like, ok, I guess this is my fault because most of the time I bring them up as negative examples, but the truth is that I always thought that the original Tokyo Mew Mew Costumes where pretty much perfect shape-wise. That's kind of part of my mild frustration with them: individually, the outfits are so good that to solve their main problem -the fact that they are all monochrome and thus look un-cohesive and loud when put together- you'd need to do some extreme changes to even add neutral colors, like white. And guess what? THIS DOESN'T EVEN FIX THAT. Instead now the chokers have ribbons in them. WHY? The originals were perfectly fine and iconic, these neck ribbons are a lot more generic by comparison and are a lot more distracting, and the ones on the leg bracers are worse!

Ok, that merits some elaboration. I should probably make a separate post about this but long story short, the thing with ribbons, frills/lace and tails is that they are eye-catching so everything about them -shape, color, placement- has to be very carefully balanced. The leg ribbons not only pull the eye towards the leg because they're big, they also dangle, and that movement competes with the other looser parts of the design, which is especially problematic for this team which has mostly athletic ways to move thanks to their powers. The neck ribbons technically make sense because they all wear corsets and that's a tried and tested combination in playboy bunny-girl costumes which are the trunk of this team's style, but guess what? NONE of the girls are playboy bunnies!!! No, not even Mew Berry!!!! ALL of them have other stuff going on in their costumes that competes with these ribbons! "But Zakuro/Reneé is skimpy-" Zakuro is not skimpy in a way that allows for this cutesy bullshit!!! She is a bad bitch who uses a goddamn whip, which btw she should be allowed to show off all the time instead of being forced to carry the hilt alone. Oh god, the pendants have been replaced with boring hearts as well which was the one thing they all shared in the same shape and color and was UNIQUE TO THE FRANCHISE, it's like they're trying to piss me off.

And again, sorry anon, you are completely entitled to your tastes, but I hate the triangular lace trimming. It's pointy, looks uncomfortable, it distracts the eye, it makes the outfits harder to draw, and like every other bad choice in this reboot it takes away from the slickness of the original designs. It also doesn't make sense??? I mean, for Ichigo it does because her fruit is a strawberry, but like... they had fur lining... because they are furries. I don't understand why they needed to be changed into this.

It's too late now, but I guess I'll get into the specifics:

Mew Ichigo:

Ok, the one good choice the reboot does is keep her hair red. Yes, the cotton candy bob is very cute and fluffy, whatever you say, but between the inside of the ears and the eyes and the rest of her clothes it was always a bit too much. And like I said, the lace trimming almost works for her theme, but putting it below the skirt is pointless, because HER TOP ALREADY ENDS IN LEAVES OVER THE BALLOONED SKIRT GIVING THE SHAPE OF A STRAWBERRY. The skirt is also rounder now btw, and I don't it works as well because between the height at which its placed and the leaves it kinda bulks up her stomach, although that just may be the position she's in in this picture, but in any case it doesn't fit her movement. Heavy ballooned skirts work better for girls who bounce or glide/fly, not girls who backflip and land on 4 legs. (A post about how magical girl mobility affects the outfits will now begin process to explain this further) For some reason they also decided to give her boots white laces which match with absolutely nothing and oh??? They took away the ribbon in her glove??? Probably because they realized it would compete with her new neck ribbon????? You know, I have an idea guys, what if... and hear me out on this one... you just leave the chockers as they were????? I see that all the girls have the hearts in their gloves now, does that mean that they all activate their attacks the same way she did??? That seems arbitrary to me but, hey, if you want to go through all these twists and turns go off I guess...

Mew Mint

I always liked Mint's outfit because of how extremely simple but effective it is. She is sprite-like, dainty, ephemeral yet pointy, so her mini-dress is extremely simple, and the way it form-fits to her leaving the skirt with minimal movement brings more attention to the way her body moves when she does ballet, which is why her transformation sequence is my favorite. Her short boots are also a stroke of genius, allowing her to stand on pointe and make her ballet moves comfortably without loosing practicality, so her gloves were made to match that style. All of the new accessories on this reboot take away from that, even the laces on her boots, but especially the hair. No idea why they needed to change that, her look is already iconic and passes the silhouette test, but while I'm certainly not against ballerina characters with loose hair, the fact is that it does take away from conveying to us that she has that ability.

Mew Lettuce:

(Tumblr doesn't allow more than 10 images per post, which is bullshit so here's the link to her wiki page to see her original outfit)

Lettuce was always the worst dressed on the team, even though it wasn't because any of her choices were bad on their own. Her outfit was fine, shape wise, but it hardly ever felt like it fit her personality, which wasn't helped by the fact that out of all the Mew Mew's she's the one with the least specific way of moving. Her early 2000's hair looked stiff and too big for her braid, the ribbons symbolizing her antennae were always an odd choice, and she had the same problem as Ichigo in that her hair and eye color were too bright and made her look especially like an eyesore. So, does she look better with this redesign? Eh... yeah, I guess, but I still can't quite abide by calling this fully competent. Her skirt does wear the triangular lace trim better than the rest, but that doesn't mean I have to like it in the gloves and sleeves, or in the leg bracer, and with the new laces on the boots it takes away from the idea that Lettuce is the water-type of the team. I do like the ribbon behind her hair, but guess what?? Say it with me: it competes with the ribbon in front of it, and since they're allowing her to keep her 2 braids this time, it doesn't even look like it connects to anything!!!! But hey, congrats to her for getting the most out of this.

Mew Pudding:

Whyyyyyyy would you give Pudding a skirt?? What in the hell did they think was wrong with her short? SHE'S THE ACROBATIC MARTIAL ARTIST, IT'S PRACTICAL AND CUTE!!! This fucking reboot, I swear, it thinks ALL the girls were somehow too tomboyish and now it's forcing them to be more femenine with all these... unnecessary ribbons, her braids are longer and that doesn't look good, she's not allowed to wear her fur gloves which looked comfier, nor her baggy leg-warmers, no siree, non of that mildly tomboyish bullshit that shed light on her interests and abilities, only form fitting socks over flats and fucking laces and ribbons everywhere and you know what why don't we add ponytails that distract even more from the ear tufts just in case?

Mew Zakuro:

Ok look. I get why you would make Zakuro wear something underneath her shorts but why did it need to be this weird, pointy, uncomfortable-looking triangle... biker shorts?? Like... yeah, ok, Zakuro is sexualized, not gonna deny that, not gonna pretend like there isn't something to discuss there, but like... THIS DOESN'T EVEN FIX THAT! Fuck, if anything it almost makes it worst because her short in the reboot is tinier than the original and the ribbons actually infantilize the look! WHY does she need ribbons in her hair? Why change her bracelets for the pointy wrist-gloves??? I also don't quite dig the straighter, longer hair, taking away the pointiness makes her look less fierce and more traditionally beautiful in Japanese tastes. I get that she's a model, but goddamn it, she was never the "proper", lady-like, older sister type, she is THE MYSTERIOUS LONER OF THE GROUP.

I just... I don't get it dude. I mean yeah, I complained about the original designs before, but I don't get why make this changes in particular. Who saw these girls and told the designer "yeah we need them to be more femme"? Girls LOVE the original outfits, they are incredibly popular in cosplay and fanart!!!

#magical girl fashion #tokyo mew mew #mew ichigo #mew mint #mew lettuce #mew pudding #mew zakuro #ichigo momomiya #mint aizawa #lettuce midorikawa #purin fong #zakuro fujiwara #ask

[todorokichills]

hey! could i request a chuuya x reader where the s/o basically begs chuuya to wear a maid outfit i thought it was hilarious and who tf doesn't want to see chuuya in a maid outfit?! anyway ty

Chuuya x S/O who always asks Chuuya to wear a maid outfit

A/N: I TOLD YOU GUYS THIS REQUEST WAS TOP TIER- Tysm for the request, I appreciate it! I absolutely LOVE this idea and here’s a pic of maid outfit chuuya to give you a wonderful permanent picture in your mind ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Genre: Fluff and Crack

“Hey Chu?”

Chuuya looked over to you, you had this giddy face and it seemed like you were holding in... wait... laughter?

“Uhm, what do you need, love?”

“Ohhh it’s nothing, I just... canyouprettypleasegetamaidoutfitandwearitprettyplease?”

[insert pikachu surprised face]

“I- wha?”

You calmed down a bit, then repeated,

“I asked, if you can get a maid outfit aaand wear it.”

Chuuya’s face flushed up and he tilted his hat to hide his face,

“W-what? I-I’m not doing that!”

“Awww ok”

You did a little pout then walked away, going on about your day

Orrr so Chuuya thought.

The next morning, Chuuya was eating breakfast when he heard you come downstairs,

“Chuuuuyaaaa! Wanna wear a maid outfit?”

Chuuya shrunk away at your volume, being it’s what? 7 in the morning?

“Huh? Wha? Are you asking me about that maid crap? I told you I’m not buying tha-”

“Oh you don’t need to! I already bought it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)”

Chuuya shout up from his tired slouched position,

“YOU WHAT-”

“Kay’ come on let’s get to headquarters we’re going to be late!”

You hoisted Chuuya up by his shoulders, dragging him to your shared room,

“Ok, get ready and we’ll talk about the whole thing at work!”

You waltzed out, leaving Chuuya clueless as to what just happened.

Did you just? Did you just say that you BOUGHT the maid outfit?

He got ready, and you to headed to the Port Mafia headquarters

It was a silent drive but when you guys got there and started to work, Chuuya had some documents that he had to give to you, he wanted to ask you about the whole... maid outfit situation

“Hey, Here’s some documents for that tech agency, Mori wants you to look over it to make sure everything is okay with it. Oh, and, there should be an email asking for your opinion on their agency.”

“Hm? Oh, ok, thanks!”

Chuuya hummed in acknowledgment, he started fidgeting with his fingers, questioning himself on whether he should or shouldn’t ask you about it.

“Hey y/n? What did you mean about the maid outfit this morning?”

“Ohhh that, I bought it for you!”

“Wait but WHY?”

“Cause’ you’d look hot in it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)”

Chuuya literally felt like his nose was bleeding he put his finger to his nose to feel for blood and somehow muttered “sh-shut up.”.

You assured him that he didn’t have to wear it and that it’s his choice and you’ll be fine with it either way.

“Huh? Oh ok, imma get back to my office, love you.”

Chuuya kissed you on your cheek and went back to his office

Now we all know Chuuya would do ANYTHING for his woman

So this man asked Mori if he could take a half-day, Mori, knowing it was probably for you, and Mori adores your relationship ngl so he accepted Chuuya’s request to go home

Chuuya didn't tell you so when you went into his office to return the documents, he wasn't there.

You assumed he went on a break so you just left the documents on his desk and continued your work.

You had finished all your work and was ready to go home. Chuuya usually wasn't finished with his work right now do you knocked on his door.

“Hey, Chu? I'm gonna head home now. Be safe when you're on your way home.”

There was just quiet, you entered Chuuya’s office, to see absolute nothing, nobody, zero.

“Chuuya!? God, where is he?”

You ran home in a panic, wondering where the hell Chuuya went off to.

Deciding your apartment was the first place to search, you reached the door, opening it to find...

“C-Chuuya... What are you wearing”

Chuuya was RED RED like his face REDEFINED the color red

He had a GODDAMN MAID OUTFIT ON

White frills under the dress with thigh-high black stockings

I-

Anyways, the second you had walked in and saw Chuuya in the maid outfit, you knocked out in the middle of the doorway

You had woken up with Chuuya next to your side,

“What happened?”

“You knocked out after you walked in.”

Chuuya was hoping you didn't remember him in the maid outfit but you KNOW you can never forget 😏

“Ohhh I remember now you were in a maid outfit-”

“Just shut up and let's never speak of this again.”

You got teasing rights on him for the rest of your life now 😌

Thank you for reading!

This isn't my best but I hope you enjoyed it ;-;

Daily Meme Time

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

#chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya headcanons #chuuyabsd #anime #writing #bungo stray dogs headcanons #maid outfit #chuuya x y/n

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

 “Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise. 

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury. 

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky… 

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here. 

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

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Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah​ @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury​ @aberrant-annie

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki #mcu #marvel #avengers #Captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #hawkeye #clint barton #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch

[angstmongertina]

hidden meanings

Mishka answered an ask about what A meant when they said that they aren’t “good at this sort of thing” and it fucking destroyed me so here we are, like a week and some 2.6k words later. (I’m sorry I’m a slow writer lol.)

Guys, I love Adam so goddamn much.

Most of the dialogue is Mishka’s. I’m just expanding out the scene with more introspection than is entirely healthy lol.

AO3 Link

Adam is not, by nature, a man of change.

Of course, living through nine centuries has done something to temper his obstinacy, and he knows that he is at least less technology-adverse than Nate, but he is also fully aware of the fact that that comparison means hardly anything. Even so, in his long life, he has also found it far easier to simply focus on the present and his duties to the Agency, the organization that, despite its own changes, has remained one of the closest things to a constant in the rapidly evolving world around him.

This world that he does not truly belong in, but that he also cannot leave, that he has simply been existing in for nearly a millennium.

Still, he has long since learned that it is easier, that it is better, to concentrate on the task at hand, to do his job without unnecessary frills and complications. He only has need of himself, his assignment, and his team, those very select few he has come to work with and trust. Those others who have proven themselves, who are also frozen in time, permanently caught in the eddies of the steady stream of life. Who, like him, have secrets and memories that lay guarded, shrouded in the past, out of sight and out of mind.

At least, that has all been the case until Unit Bravo found themselves assigned to Wayhaven and to her.

If anyone had told him, a scant few months earlier, that a human woman, still so young and inexperienced, the daughter of his unit’s handler, would have brought so much change to all of their lives, he would have called them crazy. And yet…

He glances down to his side.

It is a strange thing. At a first pass, the figure walking beside him, taking at least two steps for every one of his, is not one he would have expected to make such an impact. While he has to admit that Agent Langford herself is not of any impressive physical stature, she has an elegance, a commanding presence, that has always served her well, both on the field and behind a desk. Her daughter, on the other hand, manages to be of even smaller frame, not even reaching his shoulder in height, and so slender that she looks as though a strong wind might be able to knock her off her feet. Despite the potential dangers of their mission, her dark hair hangs in messy waves down her back, long and unbound and utterly impractical for combat. All in all, she is, at least at first glance, utterly ordinary, looking for all the world like another resident of Wayhaven that has shown up to this accursed carnival. Except…

Except, in spite of the crowds, the noise and the sights and the chaos, of everything that he loathes, everything that should be overwhelming to his senses, even in the best of times, all of it pales in comparison to her.

As if sensing his thoughts, or at least his attention, she tilts her head up, raising an eyebrow, and his chest tightens at the inquisitive look in the stormy grey eyes that lift to meet his, at the way his traitorous hand twitches in its attempt to reach out for her. Her lips part, all soft curves compared to the bright sharpness of her gaze, and he only realizes when she presses them together, a heaviness resting in their corners, that she has asked him a question.

One that he cannot for the life of him even begin to recall.

Instead, he gives his usual noncommittal grunt, at once a deflection and a response, one that has always served him well. Except this time, his typical antagonism does not appear to hide his preoccupation; for a split second, something flashes across her face, disappearing so quickly that even he, with his supernatural speed, cannot identify it. Its swift departure does not, however, prevent it from settling poorly in his stomach, a sudden storm of unease that has him looking down, unable to meet her eyes and the depths of what he might find there.

He cannot help but be thankful that it is only a few steps further to the carousel, a bright, swirling mixture of colors and music that seems to draw the attention of everyone in range. Almost as if it has been expecting them, the ride slows as they approach, and he does not fail to notice the way Surina’s face brightens as she sets foot onto the steps, the first hint of true enthusiasm he has seen from her since their disagreement in the car.

The animation in her features, highlighted by the twinkling lights of the ride, is nearly enough to make him stumble as he follows her. Climbing up with more difficulty than he cares to admit, he stiffens, clearing his throat before crossing his arms over his chest.

Given her preoccupation, he is almost surprised when it cuts through her reverie, but somehow, it does and in spite of the bustle of others climbing on around them and the general din of the park, her quiet intake of breath echoes in his mind. She turns from inspecting one of the fiberglass creatures to give him another questioning look, but this time, he is prepared for her keen gaze and instead, he glances about them, eyes narrowed. “I don’t think both of us should be seated for this ride. One of us should stay standing to cover us in case of issues.”

The words come out stilted, heavy against her excitement, and part of him finds himself regretting them when they seem to settle over her shoulders, pressing down against the cheer that had lifted them only moments earlier. For a second, he wonders if she will argue, contemplates apologizing, but she only exhales in a long breath before giving a nod, though a hint of a smirk replaces the faint frown on her face, one that is usually enough to put him on his guard, except…

Except, this time, those grey eyes lighten to a softer blue, once again dancing with her amusement, and he can feel his chest tighten in response, enough so that he almost, almost, misses her next statement.

“All right. You sit and I’ll stand.”

It is a challenge and he knows it. Her face is alight with the force of her energy, her eyebrow quirked teasingly with a hand braced on her hip. Despite his best efforts, his breath catches in his throat as the corner of her mouth curls into a smirk, and he has to actively force himself to look away, running a hand through his hair to resist the urge to wipe that cocky smile off of her face, to taste the insolence on her lips…

“Fine.”

Blindly, he reaches for the nearest creature, climbing into the fiberglass saddle before the form of his chosen steed registers to him. It isn’t until she steps closer, her grin growing wider, that the curved neck and pale white wings filter into his consciousness, and he finds himself resisting the urge to growl.

“Seems appropriate.” She chuckles, apparently too preoccupied with running a hand over the bright orange beak to notice the way he stiffens at her words, his heart pounding so loudly that it’s a small wonder everyone on the ride doesn’t notice, but, oddly, instead of mocking, her gaze is playful, a soft invitation. “You know, the whole bad-tempered part?”

She takes another step closer and he says nothing, cannot begin to form a coherent sentence in lieu of gritting his teeth as her arm brushes against his, a warmth that he can feel even through his coat, and he resists the urge to flinch.

Judging from the way she glances away, her expression falling yet again, he is not as subtle as he hopes.

He is not sure if it is perfect or horrendous timing that the ride begins then and she rocks onto her heels, her hand wrapping around the pole just under his, so close that he can feel the heat from it, can almost feel the fluttering of her heartbeat, soft and rhythmical under the cheerfully chiming music, interwoven with laughter and conversation from the other patrons. Steady and intoxicating.

He swallows once, hard, and looks away.

“Maybe we should talk… or something?” Her voice is quiet, enough so that he is certain that anyone without supernatural hearing would not have been able to hear it, and his eyebrows climb at the show of hesitance from his normally combative companion. “Help blend in with everyone else.”

In spite of his better judgment, he lets his eyes drift back over the crowds to where she stands at his side, her face tilted slightly to meet his gaze, and finds his thoughts scattering under the weight of that soft grey. “Talk?” The word comes out slightly strangled and he hastily clears his throat. “Talk of what?”

A slim shoulder rises in a shrug. “Anything, I suppose. We just stand out because we’re so silent.”

“We’re on a job. Chatting isn’t a priority.”

The reply falls out of his mouth without thinking, with the reflexes born from centuries of sidestepping and ignoring attempts at unnecessary conversations and sentiments, of focusing on his missions for the Agency, of maintaining his distance from this world that he does not quite belong in. It is the simple truth, the best, safest approach for everyone involved. And yet…

And yet the flicker of emotion in her eyes before her face smooths out stings, a keen ache in his chest that somehow hurts far more than any amount of anger would have, particularly when she only looks around before leaning closer, her voice dropping to scarcely more than a breath on the evening breeze.

“That was a little loud, Adam. People might overhear.”

The mild censure manages to filter into his consciousness, and he only barely manages to stop himself from flinching at the warning. Their investigation, their mission for the Agency… They are paramount, are the only reason why she is here with him now, playing out this little charade. They must be. Which means…

He turns to meet her gaze once more, taking a deep breath as he catches her eye, now dark and swirling with a myriad of emotions, just out of reach, that he does not dare to try and recognize, that he will not, that he cannot, lose himself in.

Not again. Never again.

Even so, his traitorous heart clenches in his chest, sharp and almost stifling, each pounding heartbeat sending a fresh pang through his entire being. Each breath is constricted, straining against the tightness that binds him, wrapping around his chest until he is drowning in the fierce ocean of his own intense reaction. In wild desperation, he arches his back, focusing on the way his muscles stretch and tighten, on the weight of his coat shifting over his shoulders, on the breath that escapes his lips, warm in the cool evening air. On the space his movement adds between them, the distance that he needs to maintain.

On anything but her.

And still, he can feel those stormy eyes watching him, unwavering, waiting. He can feel his walls cracking under that heavy gaze, feel as it seems to draw the truth from the depths of his soul, and as much as he wants to hold it all back, he cannot. Not to her.

“I’m not good at…” At maintaining appearances around her, at opening up to other people, or even himself. At vulnerability… “At this kind of thing.”

For a moment, her expression softens, and he stiffens ever so slightly at the gentleness in her gaze, at the way she leans even closer, apprehension and hope waging war in equal measure in his mind. “You don’t have to be,” she says, her voice so soft that he can scarcely hear it over the thundering of his heart. “You just have to try.”

Her words echo in his mind, quiet and patient and somehow they shake him more than  anything she has said to him before, threatening to peel back each of his painstakingly constructed layers until he is exposed, raw and bare and…

Crimson flowing in thick rivulets from the gashes in her neck, staining the concrete floor. Soft grey eyes fluttering closed over a shaky smile. Fear and desperation drowning out every rational thought, every ounce of sense in his mind—

He swallows hard.

…And dangerous.

This world is, he is, a threat to her, one he cannot let himself expose her to, no matter how desperately part of him wants to. Not if he brings naught but pain and destruction to her, as he inevitably will.

He has learned that much, at least.

His free hand clenched in an effort to not break the bar he still holds, he takes a deep breath against that persistent tightness in his chest, letting it out in a long sigh. “You are…” The ride separates them gradually, irrevocably, and he cannot be sure if it is relief or disappointment that floods his system, that has the corners of his mouth relaxing. Just as he cannot be sure whether it is fear or anticipation that quickens his heart as he returns once more to meet her gaze, still with that strange, unfathomable patience. As he bites his tongue, holding back the words he longs to say, the truths he cannot tell. “Difficult to talk to,” he finishes quietly but the words feel hollow in his mouth and he cannot hide from the way she lets out the breath she was holding, from the disappointment that streaks across her face, that finds the cracks in his already weakened defenses and cuts, deep and piercing.

“Why?”

The ride has shifted until he is level with her once more and, this close, he can feel the puff of her breath against his skin in the cool evening air, the gentle caress drawing his gaze until all he can see is the soft curve of her lips, parted and frozen, waiting. He can feel the heat of her hand curled around the pole, just below his, skin fluttering with the rapid beating of her heart, so exposed and fragile. He can feel the shape of her name in his mouth, his lips forming around each syllable, the sounds hanging heavy in the space between them, careful and hesitant and yet, somehow, right…

A small jerk throws him off balance, sending Surina stumbling a few steps to the side, and he reacts on instinct, sitting upright as she catches her balance, his muscles tensing when he realizes that he has begun to reach out a steadying hand. Her gaze is still on him, dark and inscrutable, slowly, inexorably drawing him into that pool of something deep and overwhelming and he can’t.

With an effort, he wrenches his gaze away, his hand once again tightening into a fist. Their surroundings filter back into his consciousness, the other riders dismounting, the din of their laughter and conversations crashing back over him in waves of noise and sensation. Cold. Shocking.

A reminder.

Clearing his throat, he slides off the swan, the simple action less fluid than he would like to admit, and finds himself tugging at the collar of his coat. Instead, he folds his arms across his chest, sturdy and resolute. Shielding. “We should move on.”

It is nothing more than a simple statement of truth. He knows this. And yet, he cannot quite suppress the disappointment that wells in his chest when she nods, her reply a quiet whisper, and follows him back into the crowd.

#the wayhaven chronicles #Adam du Mortain #Angst du Mortain #Adam du Mortain/MC #Adam du Mortain/Detective #Tina writes stuff. #Tina plays TWC. #commanding agent of my heart #otp: tu omnia

[ronoken]

Fic Snippit

So, I read tow lovely comments this week and saw someone was kind enough to give me a shout out on Tumblr. So... A quick epilouge piece?

A quick epilouge piece! Comment on this, dammit.

*** 

In the really, really far future... 

Caline M. Bourgeois, age 13, stood in the wings of the Francois Dupont auditorium and wrung her hands as the act in front of her finished up. Olive was twirling the crap out of that baton and the blacklight admittedly looked awesome, but she was winding down and that meant Caline was next.

‘Fuck,’ she thought to herself.

She was in a white dress with some (but not too much) frill, accented with two bows holding her sandy blonde hair back in a ponytail. One bow was red, the other yellow. She didn’t want two bows, but her mother insisted this was the best way to keep the peace.

Caline glanced into the audience from where she was hiding, and sure enough, the whole Goddamn family was there. Grandpa, all three Grammas, dad with his phone ready to go, Aunt Emilie, Aunt Camille…

And an empty seat.

Caline frowned and felt her stomach start to knot up. Olive was bowing as the audience politely clapped. Behind her, two stagehands were wheeling out the beat-up school piano for Caline’s performance.

“She didn’t come,” Caline said.

She felt something rustle in the frills on her shoulder.

“Aw shucks, girly,” a voice with a thick, southern drawl said. “Y’all just need ta have some faith. Yer mama may be a bit flighty, but that dere woman ain’t one ta miss her own kin’s recital. No ma’am. She’ll be here. Y’all see.”

Caline smiled and patted the tiny lump hiding in her frills. “Thanks, Ziggy. But,” She looked again at the empty chair. “She’s not here.”

Ziggy popped his head out and patted Caline on the shoulder. “She will be. Jus’ give her time.”

“But I’m going on now!” Caline said, slightly panicked. Out on stage, Ms. Beauréal was going on ad nauseam about how hard the students had worked for the talent show this year, and how excited she was to introduce the next performer. “Ziggy, what do I do?”

“Ya get out there and ya play fer everyone, of course. Yall gonna let yer dad and yer grammas and grampa down?”

Caline bit her lip. Of course the whole family was there. Of course dad was recording. Of course this had to happen today.

“She knew this was important to me, Ziggs. She knew.” Caline muttered as she walked on stage. From the audience, she heard two voices cheering for her.

“Go Caline!” The first one cheered.

“You’re gonna do great! Gramma loves you!” The second one chimed in.

“I love you more!” The first voice said.

“I love you most!” The second one screamed.

There were sounds of a scuffle. Caline ignored them and turned to face the audience. Her eyes drifted to the empty chair…

And sitting there was a woman with short, light brown hair and glasses. She had her phone out to film, and she was waving.

Caline’s eyes went wide. “Mom?” She asked under her breath.

Beside her mom, Caline’s father looked practically spooked. At least one of her Grandmas was frowning and had her arms crossed while her Grandpa was busy laughing into his shoulder. He was doing his best to cover it with a cough.

Caline smiled.

“Toldja,” her shoulder whispered.

***

Out in the audience, Caline’s mom grinned as she watched her daughter being playing Nocturne No. 2 by Chopin. Caline had worked for two months with her Grandpa on the piece, and the dedication had paid off.

It didn’t hurt that Adrien was a good teacher.

“Where were you?” Marinette quietly hissed beside her daughter.

“Work,” Gina whispered back. Her eyes never left Caline as she played.

“You were almost late,” Marinette growled. “How can you of all people be late?”

“But I wasn’t,” Gina rebuffed. “And she saw me. You think I’d miss today?”

Gina didn’t have to turn her head to see the glare her mother was shooting her. She could feel it.

Gina felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. She glanced back to see Aunt Chloé smiling at her. “Ignore your mother. She’s just mad because she lost a bet.”

At that, Gina did look to her mother. “You bet I wouldn’t be here?”

Marinette blushed and crossed her arms. She turned her attention to her granddaughter on stage. “When they closed the doors, I might have been overly upset.”

Gina nudged her. “Hey, it’s me.”

“I know,” Marinette sighed.

“Shh!” Sabrina shushed them both from behind. “I’m trying to enjoy my granddaughter’s performance!”

They shut up.

Caline had barely finished up when Marinette and Chloé both rocketed to their feet, cheering and applauding wildly. Caline visibly recoiled on stage from the outpouring she was receiving from her grandmothers, but she was still smiling. Mainly because beside Gramma Marinette, her mother was also standing and applauding louder than everyone else put together. She was cheering and whistling and making a scene, and Caline was 100% loving it.

Afterwards, once the other nineteen acts were done (Aurore refused to cut any students that wanted to be on stage. Something about it not being right to deny a student their moment in the spotlight), The family group headed out for a walk by the Seine to grab some dinner and gush about the performance. All three grandmothers had argued over where to eat, but André settled things quickly by loudly asking Caline what she wanted.

So, chilidogs it was.

“Hey,” Gina said as she took a large bite. “You did great up there, sweetie. I am so, so proud of you, you don’t even know.”

Caline blushed and grinned. “Thanks. Um, hey. So, like, where were you? I didn’t think you were coming.” Her eyes drifted to Gina’s green blouse. “Um, there’s some blood on your collar.”

Gina’s smile fell a bit. “Work was a bit much tonight. Sorry about that, but I was doing my best to make sure of things. I, um, I panicked and got the time slightly wrong. Otherwise I would have been in my seat sooner. Sorry.”

Marinette’s eyebrow went up at that. “What things, exactly? Is everything okay?”

Gina nodded. “Everything is fine. Nothing interrupted the recital, and nothing is going to interrupt our dinner. We all get a nice, normal, uneventful evening to ourselves.”

Marinette was the first to catch on. “How many times did you have to go back?” She asked.

“Seven,” Gina fired right back. “It took me over four hours to figure everything out. There were gonna be two akumas tonight, and don’t get me started on the werewolf.”

“Werewolf?” Caline asked.

“There wolf,” Gina quickly replied. “Seriously, how does Aunt Alix do this?”

The group went quiet.

Gina quickly read the room. “Sorry. I know that’s a sore… Look, I know it’s weird, but I’ve honestly seen more of her since she died than I ever did before. It’s nuts in the Burrow. She was super active with monitoring time. In fact, I’m pretty sure she lived in there. Like, right before I got to the school, I ran into her.”

Adrien bit his hip. “Is she okay? Was she okay? Geez, I don’t know what the best wording is for this.”

“She was good. She was in her PJ’s and brushing her teeth. I think she’d been sleeping in a side portal again. Oh,” Gina turned to Marinette. “She also told me to tell you not to worry about your appointment next week and that it’s just a clump of fat cells. You’re okay.”

Chloé laughed a little while Marinette blushed and smirked. “That sounds like her,” the bluenette said. “But did you have to say that in front of everyone?”

Gina shrugged. “You wanna drag me for my punctuality in front of my daughter again?”

Marinette glanced at her daughter. “Touché.”

“I’m just glad you came,” Caline said. “It meant so much.”

Gina smiled and kissed her daughter on the head. “I know, sweetie.” She glanced to her husband and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world.”

***

Later that night, after Caline had been put to bed, Gina snuck out to the patio for a moment and slipped into a waiting portal.

“Sup, kiddo.” Alix called out from the center of the Burrow. She was transformed and kicked back in a recliner. Even though her hair had long since gone from pink to red to silver, she looked as feisty as ever. She was slurping down a smoothie and swiping through floating ovals, each showing a different moment in time. “You make it on time?”

“Would you please explain to me how the wall clock in the center of time itself is six minutes slow?” Gina huffed. She gestured to a clock floating in the void. “Seriously! I was almost late!”

“But you weren’t,” Alix pointed out. “Look, changing it means going all the way over there and taking it down and fiddling with it, and that’s just a lot of work. I’ve just gotten used to the difference, you know? And if I did it now, then that would completely mess me up going forward. I mean, I’d look at it and be off by six minutes. Screw that.” She slurped her drink.

Gina shook her head and sighed. “You were more tolerable before you died.”

“Which time?” Alix asked with a grin. “Thank you again, by the way. You’re really not supposed to redo things that often, but I do prefer being alive to dead, so no complaints.”

Gina smirked as she stood beside her favorite aunt and watched the portals with her.

“Thanks for your help tonight,” Alix said casually.

“It’s my job,” Gina replied. “You know I won’t say no.”

Alix glanced to her. “You ever get upset that I, um, that you got drafted into all this?”

Gina didn’t answer for a moment. She crossed her arms and settled in place as she thought.

“I used to think being Ladybug was the hardest of our jobs,” Gina said. She glanced to Alix. “I was so wrong.”

“Well, regardless? I’m proud of you, Gina. I always have been.” She considered Gina for a moment. “Hey, I’ve got tonight, okay? Go spend some time with your family.”

“Oh, did you see the recital?” Gina asked.

Alix smiled and swiped the portal in front of her. An image of Caline appeared as she sat at the piano. “You think I’d miss it?”

Gina smiled at her aunt and patted her on the shoulder. “Try not to stay up too late, okay?” She leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Aunt Alix. Please get some rest. Please?”

“Psssh,” Alix said as she waved her off. “Get out of here. I’ll give you a holler if anything pops up. Promise.”

Gina smiled and turned to leave. Someday, she’d have to tell this version of Alix that her version, the one that had… That wasn’t here anymore, preferred electric blue slushies, not cherry. Still, it was sweet of her to keep popping in and pretending.

Gina wasn’t sure what timeline this Alix was even from, but it didn’t matter. They were all her Aunt, after all.

Gina stopped at the entrance to her portal and glanced back to the woman who was casually kicked back in the recliner, a familiar ghost that if Gina squinted, was enough to help her to forget for a while.

“Good night, Bunnyx,” Gina called out.

“G’night, Time Bandit,” Alix called back. She toasted her with the half-finished slushie.

Smiling, Gina slipped through the portal, and back to home.

#fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #mamabug #gina agreste

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 27

Warnings: toxic parent and adult child relationship

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​

She introduces herself as Bonnie. A tall, slender woman with striking features; steel gray eyes and short cropped silver hair and high cheekbones. And Tyler doesn’t think much of until she adds, “your father’s special friend”. He vaguely remembers her...or at the very least someone resembling her...standing on the front porch of the old family home. The day he’d taken Millie to see the old man before they left for Mumbai. At that time there’d been no possibility of returning to Australia; Amir Asif’s people had found out he was still alive and were out for revenge and knew exactly where to find him.  Going to his father’s that day had been a last-ditch effort to hash things out and patch them up. Or so he’d thought.

“You don’t remember me, do you,” Bonnie comments, as they linger on the front porch following introductions. And he wants to tell her that there’s some days he doesn’t remember what he did ten minutes ago, never mind what happened years ago.  A side effective of not only the tremendous blood loss on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, but his brain being starved of oxygen during the times he’d flat lined in the operating room.  “I was there the day you came to see your father at the old home,” she continues. “Five...six years ago.”

“Almost six,” Tyler confirms. Millie had only been two months old then. Three weeks before they’d found out Esme was pregnant again. They wouldn’t be told it was twins for another three months.  It feels like a lifetime ago.  

“I was there too,” Millie pipes up. Always confident, never shy or afraid to engage with complete strangers. Sociable, to a fault. “Do you remember me?”

Bonnie crouches down; a gentle hand on Millie’s shoulder as she engages with her eye to eye. “I peeked in on you through the window. You were just a tiny little thing. I remember you had blond hair then. And your feet were bare, and you had the cutest little toes. Amelia, right?”

Those big blue eyes widen in surprise and delight. “You remember my name? That was a long time ago.”

“I used to be a teacher. I used to have to remember a lot of names. Old habits die hard. Your grandfather remembers your name, too. He woke up very excited this morning knowing that he was going to see you today.”

Tyler can’t stop the doubtful smirk that tugs at the corner of the mouth, and he feels his wife dig her elbow into his side when she notices it.

“Really?” Millie’s smile grows, crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. “I made him something. My birthday’s coming. I’m going to be six.”

Tyler’s shoulders immediately tense at the mere mention of that age, and he anxiously shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s irrational of course; the fear that Millie will wake up the morning of the big day and will have come down with something horrible and untreatable. But his brain isn’t exactly being rational these days.

“I want grandpa to come to my party,” Millie says. “So I made him this...” she unzips the plush unicorn knapsack she has slung over one shoulder. She’s quite eclectic today; the bag and the baby blue ‘princess dress’ with ruffles and frills and those dirty old Spiderman sandals. And she pulls out a handmade card and shows it to Bonnie. “Daddy helped me,” she proudly chirps.  “It’s got sparkles and stickers of kittens and unicorns and butterflies and all the stuff I like. Even glitter. Lots of glitter. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Bonnie gushes. “I think he’ll love it. Do you want to go and give it to him?”

“By myself?” For once Millie sounds hesitant, and she looks up at her father, followed by her mother, then curls all her fingers around two of Tyler’s and leans into his legs. “I don’t think I want to go by myself.”

“I’ll go with her,” Esme speaks up, and then takes the baby carrier from Tyler. “She probably has to go to the bathroom anyway and Addie definitely needs a diaper change.”

He lays a hand on the small of her back and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. Things have been better since his meltdown in the middle of the road; surprisingly rational and calm considering how powerful and near crippling the anxiety and panic had been. And they haven’t talked about it or the issues surrounding it since. He knows it’s inevitable; he owes her an explanation for why he’s been so fucked up and on edge the last few days. It’s a conversation that has to happen –including the desperate cravings for the meds and the booze- but he is absolutely dreading. It isn’t the first time that he’s felt like he was slipping; he’d fallen off the wagon more than once during his various attempts at sobriety during the past six and a half years. But this time he knows there will be no more chances. If he fucks up, that’s it. He loses everything. And that’s the most terrifying thought of all.

“First and last?” Bonnie inquires, when Esme takes an uncharacteristically nervous Millie by the hand and escorts her inside. “The girls? First and last children?”

He nods. “There’s three more in between though. All boys.”

“That’s quite the brood. A big family for this day and age.”

“What can I say?” he gives a shrug. “It’s one of the few things we’ve actually agreed on in the past seven years. Wanting a big family.”

Three had been the original limit; none of them planned. Most had come as a complete shock. The twins being quickly after Millie was born, Declan making his presence known despite the fact his mother had been on birth control at the time.  Millie came about during an unconventional time, but she hadn’t been that much of a surprise; complete absence of any form of protection over the course of five days meant it would have been more a shocked had if Esme hadn’t gotten pregnant. Addie was the only one that had been somewhat considered; they’d agreed on a fifth without knowing that she’d already been conceived.

“Your father couldn’t remember for sure,” Bonnie says. “He knew for sure that there were two of three. And he knows there’s two little girls. That’s a good day for him, when he remembers that much. A very good day.”

Tyler just nods. Hand shoved the pockets of his jeans, eyes on his feet. He knows he should feel something when it comes to his old man’s illness. Or at the very least he should express some kind of sorrow or even remorse for letting the years pass by without attempting to mend fences. But he feels nothing. At least none when it comes to his father. But the nightmare the night before has left him feeling many things towards and FOR his mother. And for that terrified little boy that had spent years cowering in his bedroom closet.  

“I know things haven’t always been easy between you and your father,” Bonnie sympathizes. “That things were strained between the two of you.”

“That’s what he told you?”

“He said you were a difficult child. That it only got worse as you got older. Especially into your teen years. That you were very smart but acted out a lot. That you were always misbehaving at school and...”

“I was difficult, was I,” Tyler gives a small, dry laugh. “I wonder why that was.”

“I know you had your troubles. With discipline and authority. And controlling your emotions. I know...”

“You don’t know shit,” he interjects. “Is that what he told you? That I was a bad kid? That I was out of control? That’s what he said to you?”

“It’s understandable,” she attempts to lay a comforting hand on his forearm, but he scowls and yanks it away.  “You lost your mother at a young age. That’s a tremendous loss. It’s not surprising you started acting out.”

“You’re not blaming this on my mother,” he can’t control the vehemence that creeps into his voice. Or the way his fists continuously clench and release.  And that tightness in his chest returns; a vice tightening around his heart and squeezing at his lungs. “There’s no way you can blame this on her.”

“I’m certainly not blaming her for dying. I’m simply saying it takes its toll on loved ones. Especially those so young.”

“He used to beat the shit out of her. Did you tell you THAT? That he used to get drunk nearly every day after work and come home and put his hands on her? Did he tell you that I’d hide in the closet listening to the whole thing? I was a little kid. Millie’s age. Even younger when it started. And that’s what I dealt with. Almost every goddamn day until the day she died. I bet he didn’t tell you all that, did he.”

“He told me they argued. That they had their quarrels.”

“Arguments don’t cause black eyes and busted lips and concussions and trips to the hospital.”

“It’s not my place to judge. I don’t know what happened in the past between your father and your mother. And you were a little boy and you only HEARD these things. You don’t know for sure what happened.”

“When I was nine, he figured I was old enough to see what was going on. He used to make me watch; used to threaten to beat my ass or hurt her even worse if I didn’t. He wanted me to see how a ‘real man controls his woman’ and how he ‘rules his house’.  So I did see it. And when she died, I was the one who took over the role as his favorite punching bag; the one that he took all his shit out on. You don’t know what happened.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t. But...”

“You weren’t there. But I was. I lived through it. Until I got too big and strong and I was able to put fear into him for a change. So don’t fucking stand there and tell me I was a ‘difficult kid’.   You have no clue what growing up in that house was like.”

“And now you’re here for what? Revenge? That why you reached out after all these years?”

“He called me first. A week ago, when he needed some shit done around here. And you know what, I showed up and I did it. No questions asked. I’m here because my kids should probably get to know him before it's too late. I’m not here for revenge. I’m not here to make him for what he’s done. He either won’t remember of if he does, won’t give a fuck. I’m here for my kids. Not for me. Not for him. For my kids.”

“So you have nothing to say to him?”

“I have tons I want to say to him. A shit load of stuff I’ve been holding onto for years. But what good is going to do? He’s never regretted a goddamn thing that he did to me or to my mum. So what good will it do? It won’t do fuck all.”

“You have a lot of anger inside of you,” Bonnie observes.

“You think?”

“You haven’t had an easy life, have you. You’ve spent years with all of that anger inside of you. Trying to find a way to either get it out or cope with it. I can see it in your eyes; you’ve seen a lot of horrible things.”

“I’ve done a lot of horrible things,” Tyler admits. “To people who deserved it.”

“In the military.”

“In other jobs too.”

“What kind of other jobs?”

“Jobs that paid me damn good money and let me pretend it was my father I was beating on.”

Bonnie blinks at his brutal honesty.

“You don’t know anything about me. About the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve done. The life I’ve lived. You only know what he’s told you. About his failure of a son who fucked up his life and abandoned his dying kid and had his marriage fall apart. I’m sure that’s the picture he’s painted of me, isn’t it?”

She nods.

“I nearly died seven years ago. On a dirty fucking bridge in Bangladesh. I came this close..." he holds his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “...to dying that day. And for some reason, I’m still here. After all the shitty things I’ve done. I got a second chance. I’ve got a wide and kids and a pretty damn good life. But I bet he never mentions that; the good things I’ve done. Because he doesn’t see me that way. He just sees me as a fuck up. The kid he never wanted; some burden that was dropped in his lap. So don’t stand here and pretend you know who I am or what I’m about. No disrespect, but you know shit.”

“Daddy!”  Millie bursts through the screen door, and his fists immediately open, and his shoulders relax.  

She’s been through enough today; she doesn’t need to see him in that kind of state.  Her face is glowing, and her eyes are big and bright; she’s full of childhood exuberance and excitement. And she’s perfect and innocent and she deserves so much better than he can ever possibly give her.

“Daddy look!” she holds out her left hand; a highly polished silver dollar nestled in her palm. “Look what grandpa gave me! It’s from the year I was born. He went to the bank and got it special just for me!”

He knows that Esme has sent her out there; that when he hadn’t followed shortly behind and joined them in their visit that she’d immediately assumed the worst and was worried he’d have another ‘episode’. That Millie would be the quickest and easiest way to get him down of whatever edge he was teetering on. And it’s worked; those big blue eyes sparkling up at him and that little voice and the way the word ‘daddy’ sounds when it comes out of her mouth. It’s always so sweet. So genuine. And he can remember the first time she’d ever intentionally said it as baby; just shy of her first birthday, standing in her crib and reaching up for him and nearly making him cry.  

“That’s pretty cool,” he gives her a smile and lays a hand on top of her head. “You’ll have to put it somewhere safe when we get home. Where your brothers won’t find it.”

She nods in agreement and tucks it into his pocket for safe keeping. Then looks up at him with her head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing. “Are you going to cry? You look like you’re going to cry.”

“I’m fine,” he assures her, and combs his fingers through hair; letting the thick, soft tresses slip between his fingers. “Just tired. It wasn’t a good night last night.”

“Daddy doesn’t sleep good sometimes,” Millie informs Bonnie, then wraps both of her arms around one of his thighs and leans against him. “He has a lot of hurts. From the bad guys.”

“Okay...” Tyler gives an uncomfortable laugh. “...we don’t need to talk about the bad guys.”

“He used to rescue good people from bad people,” she continues. “And he got hurt a lot when he did. And he almost died! Before he even found out I was in mommy’s tummy. He almost died and mommy almost had me all by herself and I never would have met him, and he never would have met me and...”

“That’s enough,” he scoops her up with one arm and settles her on his lip. “Bonnie doesn’t want to hear about that. Boring stories about my old job.”

“Daddy used to beat people up. He even killed some of them.”

“Amelia...please...” he presses a kiss to the side of her head. “...no more, okay? We don’t talk about that stuff. Especially with strangers.”

“Bonnie’s not a stranger. She’s grandpa’s girlfriend. So that makes her my grandma, right? I mean, other than the mean one in Colorado. She’s horrible,” she says the last part to Bonnie. “She’s so mean. I don’t like her. I’m glad we don’t' see her anymore. She makes mommy cry and then daddy gets mad and tells her off. My mean grandma, not mommy.”

“You don’t have a grandma,” Tyler reminds her. “She died a long time ago. When I was little.”

“Bonnie can be my grandma if she wants. I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t object to that,” the woman in questions says, smiling as she reaches out to cup Millie’s face in her palm. Fingertips grazing her cheek before Tyler steps away, breaking all contact.  “I never had children of my own, so I don’t have any grandkids and...”

“Let’s go visit,” he suggests, cutting her off before she can finish. There’s no way in hell that this woman...whoever the hell she is and whatever role she plays in his father’s life...could ever fill those shoes.   “Then we go and get lunch.  Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Millie agrees, then wraps an arm around his neck and places a kiss on his cheek as he steps past Bonnie and into the house.

****

The visit has gone surprisingly well; the old man in good spirits, doting on his granddaughters and spending the majority of his time cuddling the baby and reminiscing about the few rare good times that had existed in Tyler’s childhood. And he’d attempted to smile at the memories and offer his own commentary, but they’d only left a bitter taste in his mouth and a tightness in his jaw and throat.  

He’s been unable to stop the continuous loop playing in his brain, the sights and the sounds from the vivid and heartbreaking nightmare. He hadn’t wanted to hear about the bonfires on the beach or the roasting of marshmallows within their flames. He hadn’t given a shit about the odd family camping excursions they’d take along the Gold Coast. Those memories had been too rare. Too fleeting. And now that he’s an adult and can look back on the situation, Tyler knows the old man only engaged in those activities to give his mother and himself a false sense of security; so she’d stay in the marriage under the pretense that things were getting better, only to have them fall apart again weeks later. It’s how his father had kept her around; always promising to change and making noticeable improvements before resorting back to being the monster he was.  

There’d be more horrible times than good ones. And it makes him sick that the old man refuses to even acknowledge that or take responsibility for what he’d done.

“When did Sarah dye her hair?” His father asks now, as they sit side by side on the back patio, watching as Bonnie gives Esme and Millie a tour of the various flower and vegetable gardens.  

Sarah. His ex-wife. Who’d couldn’t possibly be any different from Esme if she tried. Tall, on the thicker side, green eyes and long blond hair.  And it didn’t end there. Sarah was boisterous and loud; obnoxious even.   Needy and clingy and constantly needing validation. Someone who prided themselves on being strong and independent when they were anything but.

“Dad, that’s not Sarah,” he attempts to be as calm as possible while correcting him. “Sarah and I haven’t been together in sixteen years.”

Any mention of his ex brings back a lot of hostility; both towards her and to himself. He’d done a shitty thing; abandoning Austin when he was dying. And he’d never forgive himself for that. But their marriage had been strained and troublesome from day one; she hated being a soldier’s wife and was very vocal about it. It hadn’t taken her long to start fucking other guys while he was deployed, and he probably would have left as soon as it started had she not ended up pregnant and he’d not believed her when she’d insisted the baby was his.

“That’s Esme,” he continues. “You came to our wedding, remember? At the same place you and mum got married. By the opera house.”

Bonnie had explained this could happen; coherent one moment, not remembering a damn thing the next. And Tyler had long ago made a vow to himself –after a neurologist had explained his own brain issues following the Dhaka incident- that if he ever got THAT bad, he’d put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger.

Confession clouds the old man’s eyes. “How long have you been married to her?”

“Six and a half years.”  Sometimes it seems like six months, other times it feels like sixty years. So much as has happened during that time: leaving for Australia for Mumbai and winding up back in Dhaka. Taking custody of Ovi and moving to Colorado. Michael McMann and the bullshit in Ireland and then New Zealand.  Five kids and a trial separation he’d been one hundred percent sure was going to turn into a divorce. And not in that order.

“And the little girl?”

“That’s my daughter. Amelia. And this is Adeline,” he lays a hand on the baby’s back as she sleeps soundly along his thighs, stomach down.  

“Like your mother.”

Tyler nods, struggling with the bitterness and the anger that eats away at him.  That the old man-despite all the heartache and damage he’s caused over the years- has managed to live such a long life while his mother’s had been tragically cut short. It’s what pisses him off the most; that the punishment for all the beatings and all the vile, degrading things he’s ever said has taken so fucking long to arrive.

“It’s a beautiful name,” his father muses, a soft smile on his lips as he watches the activity in the garden; Millie crouched in the grass, giggling as a chipmunk eats sunflower seeds out of her palm and Esme takes a video of the moment.  “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I remember when I first saw her. Those blue eyes of hers and those long lashes and that red hair of hers...” he gives a happy sigh. “...she took my breath away.”

Tyler wonders if it’s the dementia talking or if the old man is telling the truth; if he actually did feel that way when they first met.

“Her brother introduced us,” he continues. “We were in the army together. I’ve told you that, yeah?”

Tyler nods.

“Brought me to his place when we were on a leave. That’s how we met. Your mother and me. Through him. She was sitting in the backyard, reading a book under a tree. And she looked up and smiled at me and it was like my heart stopped beating and the earth stood still. You ever felt like that?”

He smiles as he looks across the yard, at where his wife is taking her turn at feeding the chipmunk; showing even more excitement and wide-eyed enthusiasm and wonder than Millie had.  He feels it now in the same way he’d felt it seven years ago when she’d walked into his place in the outback; he’d never met anyone like her and knew he never would again.  

“All the time,” Tyler says. “Every time I look at her.”

“It’s an amazing feeling, innit?  Especially when they smile at you or they take your hand or touch your arm.  And how they sometimes look at you like you’re the most incredible guy on the face of the earth, even when you’re feeling anything but.”

He nods. He’d experienced that last night when he’d had the nightmare and the panic attack that had accompanied it. And in the middle of the road that very afternoon when he’d had the ‘meltdown’. She never judges him; tending to him with the same kind of tenderness and patience that she uses with the kids. Sticking by him through insurmountable amounts of bullshit and heartbreak. Always looking at him like he’s the strongest, bravest man in the world; always trusting him with her life and the lives of their children. Even when he feels like a complete and utter failure.

“You love her.” It’s more a statement than a question.

“With everything I am and everything I have,” he admits.

“So you got this one right, at least. Didn’t go so right the first time, did it.”

Tyler smirks. He knew it could only last so long, the fond reminiscing and the touching words.  “No,” he agrees. “It didn’t.”

“You did a horrible thing, you know. Taking off like that. I don’t care what your reasons were. You never abandon your own like that.”

He nods slowly, taking in his father’s words. It’s nothing he hasn’t said to himself a million times over the past sixteen years.  There isn’t a vicious word that he hasn’t called himself, no end to the guilt and the regret that he feels.  It’s a cross to bear; one he’ll carry for the rest of his life.

“Hope it doesn’t happen again,” the old man sighs. “When something goes wrong. Because you’ve got a good thing there and if you walk away again...”

“I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear me say? That I royally fucked things up and I feel horrible about it? Is that what you want to hear? That I hate myself and I’ll probably hate myself until the day I die? That’s what you want me to say, yeah?”

“It’s nice to hear a little remorse come out of you.”

“You’re going to get on my ass about remorse? You? Of all people?” Tyler scoffs. “That’s rich. That’s really fucking rich.”

His father’s eyes narrow. “You don’t talk to me like that, boy.”

“First of all, I’m not your boy. I’m a grown ass man. With a wife and kids. Second, I’ll talk to you any goddamn way I want.”

His voice is louder and tone harsher than he’d intended, and he sees how both Bonnie and Esme look up and glance towards the porch.  A frown on his wife’s face, her brow furrowed.  He can see the concern in her eyes...the worry. And he’s thankful when Millie tugs on her hand and diverts her attention.

“Don’t you talk to me about remorse and regret,” Tyler lowers his voice. “After everything you’ve done. All the things you said, all the things you did. To mum. To me. You have the nerve to get on my ass about the mistakes I’ve made?”

“I know I haven’t always been a good man...”

“You’ve never been a good man. When the hell were you a good man? You think being nice once and while and taking us places and buying mum flowers or jewelry made up for the shitty things you did? You’d promise to change, and you would, and it would last what? A month? At the most? Just so she’d stick around. Then you’d start your crap again.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, Tyler. But...”

“I was a kid. A fucking kid. And I used to hide in my closet and listen to everything you said and everything you did. I remember going to the hospital to see mum and you warning me on the way there not tell the nurses or the doctors the real reason she was in there. Because you’d pushed her down the stairs and busted her head open and you convinced them that she fainted and fell. Do you remember that? Because I fucking remember that. And I was Millie’s age when that happened.”

His father’s face hardens, eyes darkening, jaws clenching.

“Yeah, you remember. I know you do.  You remember all the times you talked down to her and all the times you put your hands on her. How about when you tried convincing me that that’s the way all women shouldn’t be treated? That all men were just like you. And thank God I never believed it, or I would have grown up thinking that it was true, and I would have beat on my wife and my own kids.  I’ve done some shitty things over the past six and a half years; I’ve lied, and I’ve broken promises, and I’ve made some bad choices. But I’ve never...ever...raised a hand to my wife. And if I ever do...if I ever even think about...I’ll fucking kill myself. Because that means I’m just like you and she deserves better than that.”

“Hey,” Esme greets, as she climbs the stairs to the patio. “Everything okay? You seem a little...upset.”

“I’m fine,” he assures her, and she steps behind his chair, putting her hands on his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You ready to go? I’m ready to go.”

She nods. “Millie’s going to get hangry soon and you’re...” her hands slide across his shoulders and down his arms and then back up again, pausing to squeeze his biceps as she drops a kiss on the top of his head. “...pretty tense.”

“I’ll be okay,” he says, and lifts a sleeping Addie from his lap and tucks her into his chest. Forearm against her back and palm supporting her head as he stands. “We were just talking. Right, dad?”

“My son has a big mouth,” he responds. “Tried to slap it off him a few times growing up but obviously it never worked.”

Esme nervously chews her on her bottom lip, eyebrows arched as she looks up at her husband.  

“It’s fine,” Tyler runs his free hand over her hair, settling it on her back as he kisses her forehead. “Just ignore him. He didn’t like the things I had to say.”

“Can we just go?” she asks, visibly anxious. “Let’s just go. Don’t say anything else. Not with Millie here. Please.”

He nods in agreement, then glares at the old man when he gives a derisive snort and a snide, “Obvious who wears in the pants in your family.”

“What do you want me to do, dad? Beat her into behaving? Knock her around so it will keep her in line? Think that will show her who’s boss? Break her nose, give her a black eye, knock out some teeth?”

“Tyler...please...” Esme pleads, and her fingers curl around his forearm, nails pressing into the flesh. “...let’s just go.”

“She’s probably the one that knocks YOU around.”

“You know what, dad...”

“Tyler...” her voice is more forceful now. “...enough. Just walk away...be the bigger man and just walk away.”

“Better listen to her,” the old man scoffs. “She probably lays a beating on you from time to time. Seeing as you’ve gotten so soft.”

“Tyler...” Esme glares at him. “...don’t even engage. Just go. Go and take the baby to the car and I’ll get Millie. Please?” One hand fists the front of his t-shirt, the other reaches up to rest on the side of his face; fingers pressing into his cheek, encouraging him to look down at her. “Just take the baby to the car, okay?”

“Are we leaving?” Millie happily skips up the stairs, pigtails swinging and bouncing. “I’m so hungry could eat the ass out of a dead rhinoceros.”

“Excuse me?” Esme frowns. “What did you just say? Who taught you THAT?”

“That sure as hell wasn’t me,” Tyler says. “Of all the weird things I’ve said, that’s not one of them.”

“Ovi taught me,” Millie sheepishly admits. “Sorry.  I AM hungry though.”

“Go with daddy,” Esme instructs. “I have to get Addie’s baby bag and your shoes from the house. Go on. Both of you.”

He places a hand on her hip and his lips to her ear. “Don’t say anything. Even if he tries to cause shit with you.”

“I won’t,” she promises, and he pecks her lips before scooping Millie up and slinging her over his right shoulder, her head and top half of her body dangling down his back.  

“Bye grandpa!” the five-year-old calls in between her giggles. “See you at my party! Don’t tickle me too, daddy!” she squeals. “You’ll make me pee my pants!”

Esme smiles as she watches them go, waiting until they disappear around the side of the house before turning to her father in law, smile fading.

“What the hell is wrong with you? That is your son? Do you have any idea how lucky you are to even still have him in your life?”

He doesn’t respond. Mouth set in tight, thin line as he stares blankly ahead.

“He could have died seven years ago. In fact, he did, and they brought him back. Twice. If there’d been a third time, they weren’t even going to try to save him. Do you have any idea what he’s been through? What he still goes through? What his life has been like in the last sixteen years?”

Still no answer.

“Don’t you even wonder what he was doing when he left the army? Do you want to know? Do you care at all?”

“Security work.”

“He was a mercenary,” she says, and she notices his eyes widen. “A hired gun. He went into shitty places and into dangerous situations and put his life on the line to help other people.  You’re lucky to even have him and you’re going to treat him like you do? You can’t see that he’s trying? That he wants to get through to you? You totally screwed him up as a kid. And it’s left him totally messed up as an adult and...”

“Esme...” Bonnie’s voice is stern as she climbs the steps. “...I think you should leave.”

“I know you’re never going to apologize to him. Even though you should. And he’d probably never accept it anyway. But he’s still your son. And he’s going through hell right now and he’s trying so damn hard to get himself better and if you’d just meet him halfway...”

“I owe him nothing.”

“He’s your child! And I know he’s a grown ass man and he’s a husband and a father, but he’s still your son. And I should hate you for what you did to him when he was a kid and how it’s messed up for the rest of his life. But I actually feel sorry for you. Because he’s a big man with a big heart and he’s good to me and good to his kids.  He is trying so hard. And I need you to help him. I’m begging you to help him. Or help me help him. Please. That’s all I want. For him to be okay.”

“It’s too late,” the old man says. “It was too late years ago.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing. The kind of man that he is. And I find it pathetic that you can’t even look him in the eye and tell him you’re sorry. Whether he wants to believe it or not. You can’t even love your own son. What kind of parent does that? What kind of evil lives inside someone that that they turn out the way you did?”

“Esme...” Bonnie tightly grips her arm. “...you need to go.”

“And you’re just making this worse,” she addresses the other woman. “You’re ignoring it too. Everything he did to Tyler, everything he did to Tyler’s mother. You’re just turning a blind eye to it and enabling this shit. What is wrong with you people? I feel sorry for both of you.  I really do.”

“Leave,” Bonnie orders. “Now.”

“I am going,” she yanks her arm out of the woman’s grasp, then turns on her heel when she reaches the door. “If he’d died what then? Would you have even felt bad? Would you even have mourned him? If I hadn’t had been there, he would have died alone in that hospital and you probably never would have known. How pathetic is that? You wouldn’t have known your own child was dead. I had to call you and tell you what happened. And even then, you showed up pissed drunk and you brought his ex-wife. Classy. Real classy.”  

And with that she stomps into the house, slamming the door behind her.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #best part of me #extraction #chris hemsworth character

[myfinalform-kaz]

I know no one will read this whole thing but I really need to talk about what happened to me and it would mean alot if someone read it so what he did to me would be known

So background story: My brother abused me for 10 years of my life and completely fucked me up. My entire world view was formed by him and he convinced me everyday that I was worthless and ugly and anyone who loved me only pretended to becuase they pitied me and no one in the future could possibly love something as horrible as me. And I believed it every goddamn day and I didn't know any better and I adored my brother cus he was the only one that "really loved" me and he was my big brother and that meant to mean something good and all of my self worth came from the slivers of validation he'd throw out a few times a year. And every time I thought he went to far and I said something I would get an adult saying "Big brother's are suppose to pick on their little siblings, it's how they show their love" and I believed it so I stopped talking about it. I didn't say anything when he bruised me or pushed me off of barn roofs or the two times he tried to kill me. I didn't say anything becuase every one said that all those things just meant that he loved me. The worst he was the more he loved me and this was the kind of love I deserved. I didn't deserve soft gentle love filled with encouragement and kindness, I didn't deserve unconditional, non judge mental love. I was too weak and I needed to toughen up becaus ethe world would never be kind to a disgusting person like me so I need to get use to it. I believed every lie he said becuase I was a child and nobody told me he was lying.

He was why I stopped eating in 8th grade becouse I "obviously needed a diet" then I became addicted to the control it gave me, I craved the hunger I thought I deserved. I lost so much weight and it was the first time he told me he was proud of me. One of my first memories is of when I was six years old and got my first two piece swimsuit. It was bright grean and turquoise and had frills and I was so excited about it and the first thing he said when he saw it was "wow you are really fat" how does an 8 yr old even think to say that? And of course I was chubby I was 6. So him saying he was proud of my weightloss was like a huge weight off my shoulders, I no longer had to be bullied by him about my body. Of course there was always other things wrong about the way I looked or what hobbies I had or what friends I had. I was never enough no matter what I did, but I was enough when I was starving. I had a full blown eating disorder by 10th grade and nobody said anything so I figured I was doing the right thing.

By the end of that year he left for the military and my entire life flipped upside down. The one thing that I clung on too in life left. I was completely alone. He was the only one I could say anything too, of course he always ended up using what I told him against me but I didn't see that at the time. I thought the only person who loved me had left me behind, the only person who truly understood me had a abandoned me. I had my first and worst depressive episode then. It lasted a year and a half, I attempted suicide four times, and started self harming and lost 40lbs. I was a shell of a person. I tried talking to my only friend at the time about it be she never cared (my brother always told me she didn't actually care about me and still talks about how he was right and how stupid I was to think she could possible care about me) this of course only enforced that maybe he was right all along and I was an impossible person to actually care about.

When I was 16 I had gone to a routine doctors appointment and taken a mental health test. I thought I was giving normal answers and downplayed how I really felt, unfortunately my life was so twisted that even what I thought were normal answers were alarming to my doctor. She ended up making me take my clothes off so she could see if I self harmed, I hadnt in a few months but there were still scars of course. I begged her not to tell my mom and she said she wouldn't if I told her before my next appointment, I said I would. She scheduled a few appointments for further testing and then we left. The whole ordeal was traumatic for me and of course I never told my mother hoping that next appointment never came. And it never did. I havent been to a doctor in over 3 years. I was digging through some old medical records a year ago to find my glasses prescription and I found the file for that day. Turns out my parents knew about my self harm the whole time then after the doctor told them I might have anxiety and she wants to do further testing they cancelled all further appointments and never said a word to me. I had to struggle completely alone, I always thought that they would have helped if they had known but they did know and they did nothing. They made me go through so much pain and I have no idea why.

After all that my brother came home for a visit and he was so proud of how thin I was and how well I was doing in school and everything was going so well. Then of course that couldn't last and he turned cruel and insulting and then he left again.

The last time he visted we did so good the first week, I thought he had really changed, he had actually apologized a few times when he said something mean and I was so happy he was trying to be the big brother I had always wanted. Then we were having a pleasant conversation in the car and out of blue he said "you know you will neber find a partner who won't cheat on you becuase youre asexual" and after I was upset he said "It's not my fault you can't handle facts" and of course I believed him.Then my dog died and all he could do was make jokes and mock me for caring. I told my Mom she told me that if I looked hard enough I would see that he actually loved me and all this other stuff was just surface level and didn't matter. And I believed her. But I met an amazing person who became my best friend in the whole world and the only person to ever say "that's not how sibling normally treat each other, he is abusing and manipulating you" and I could never be more grateful for her, she has taught me how to be my own person and recognize my own worth. She has encouraged me and accepted me with all the flaws I have. We have gotten in fights but it's only becuase we love each other and it never ends in screaming or beating and it's always about trying to understand each other better. We talk about triggers and experiences and always try to be mindful of them. I have never met someone that I love more.

The current situation: He is coming back in two days and I have no idea what to do. I thought I was ok becuase for about two weeks I didn't feel bad about him coming. I felt a little off but I couldn't put my finger on why then I read a post about a girl dancing with her brother at his edding and realized that I never had and would never have that kind of relationship with my brother and I had a completely mental break down an hour ago and I realized that I don't feel fine I was just emotionally shutting down and that's why I was feeling off but now I feel everything and I am so fucking scared of him coming. Now that I know what it's like to not be under his control I can't go back even for a couple of days. I can't sit across from on the couch and pretend nothing happened. I can't let him touch me like I'm not disgusted by it. I'm not that strong, I'm not that good of an actor. I am so fucking scared and no one in my family believes me, they thing I'm a bad brother for not talking to him for a few months. I am so scared of what he's going to do or say. I don't know what I'm going to do. I use to dissociate a lot but recently I haven't been and I don't think I can just mentally not exist while he's here. I am so scared that I am making a big deal out of nothing and that maybe he is a good brother and I'm just a bitch. I don't know. I don't know how I will live the rest of my life with him popping in and out to kick me down and remind me how worthless I am. I don't know how I'm going to spand the rest of my life scared of this person I am suppose to love. My parents have made it very clear that me not talking to him dissapoints and hurts them and how much they hate to see me notbe best friends with him. They always act like they support me until it actually gets down to it, then they blame me for never telling them anything even though I have a life time of being told that what was being done to me was normal and I have no idea where the line between sibling teasing a nd abuse is. I have no idea what is normal because I never had normal and nobody told me it wasn't normal till I was 18 yrs old.

I'm so sorry for dropping all this and how long it is but I've never really talked about it before and I am so scared

#abuse survivor #emotional abuse #family abuse #abuse #sibling abuse #trauma recovery #emotional trauma #trauma #eating disroders #eating disorder #tw self harm #self harm #self hate #self pity #social anxiety #anxiety #depression #suicidal #suicide #tw suicide

[hadesglance]

All hail the new queen... - 6 (Hades Original Story)

You fought your way through the maze of the underworld to make a deal with the King…intrigued the lonely king listens…

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Hades adjusted his gold cuff links waiting in the foyer for you. The week had flown by to Saturday. He’d taken the time at every dinner to inform you of what to expect. Then last night…

“Forget everything I told you.” Your mouth dropped open slightly, “We’re gods Y/N, I could tell you a million things to prepare for and then you would still be side blinded something.”

“Fickle much?” You sighed as a shade poured you more water, “Thank you.”

“You’re too kind.” Hades told you waving the shade away from his cup.

“Well excuse me for being raised to be polite.” You snapped at him, “They’re preforming a service…you should thank people for a job well done.”

“They aren’t people anymore…they’re simple souls working payment off for entrance into the Underworld.” Hades explained, “They require nothing from you.”

You stared at him for a moment about to speak. Finally, you shook your head, “Excuse me…”

“Speak.” He demanded making you freeze in place as you stood. He had every power to make you do whatever he wanted. He chose not to out of respect, but this week was coming to a close and your mood swings we’re tiresome.

“It must be an awfully lonely line of thinking to see souls of people as objects to serve. It’s not the Hades I was raised with…granted I’m sure it was romanticized along the way; Gigi is like that.” You stood straight and stiff, “What happened to you to make you like this? Was it Persephone? Or Hera or some other goddess?”

“Why is it mortals instantly jump to a bad romance?” He shook his head.

“Because no one…gods included…keeps people at such a distance without having been hurt before. Someone did a number on you and…” Your mouth hung open as your eyes became sad, “and when I look at you sometimes you can just see the cracks and fissures.”

He looked away from you as you went on, “I know it’s only been a week… and I’m probably stepping way out of bounds despite that you said that you just want companion. I can see why…You wanted to observe the humanity in me and see what happens. Well…it’s not going to be much. I’m quiet…boring…snarky at times and care too goddamn much when I shouldn’t. So, I will always say thank you…even if it doesn’t matter…”

He let you go after that. You did what he asked, he had no reason to stop you. He gave you your space the rest of the night. You had given him a lot to think about. He didn’t get any sleep…

…cracks and fissures…

He took in a deep breath shaking of the heat he felt on the back of his neck. There was one thing you didn’t list in your description of yourself…observant…it wasn’t a bad romance though…bad relationship for sure, but there was certainly no love in it…

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard the clicking of high heels. He looked up toward the hall feeling his lips part at the sight of you. His eyes moved over the beautiful ball gown. Black billowing fabric cascaded off your shoulder down to your hips. Occasionally is seemed to sparkle as if it held stars. Clotho had out done herself again.

“You chose black.” He quirked an eyebrow, “All week you were leaning toward the purple one.”

You looked up into his eyes. It was hard to read them, “I figured…if I drop something or spill it’ll be less seen on black.”

“You’re nervous…” He sighed a little.

“Of course I’m nervous…I don’t want to make a fool of myself…or you.” You rattled off quickly wringing your hands together, “I feel ridiculous…when I pulled this thing on it was basically a sheet and then it…poof! It became this…and it’s gorgeous and I’m me and god…Hades I haven’t been this nervous since Jimmy Anderson took me to prom and I had to lie to my parents about it!”

“What happened with Jimmy Anderson?” He smiled hoping that asking the question would focus you in a little.

“I puked on him and we didn’t even make it to the prom…” You stopped remembering the memory, “I-I don’t think…”

“That’s exactly what you need to do.” Hades reached out placing his hands on your bare arms, “Don’t think…”

You took a deep breath in and then let it out as you listened to him, “Y/N, I am not going to let anything happen to you, and you just need to be…you. This party is about you, and if you try to be some thing you’re not…everyone will know and it will be…hell.”

“Right…okay…” You nodded chewing the inside of your cheek for a moment before you smiled at him, “Then I need just one more minute.”

You turned going back down the hall. As you went the high heels appeared from under the dress. A couple moments later you came back out red in the face.

“Ready?” He asked you glancing at his watch.

“Actually…I need your help.” You held up your boots and a pair of socks, “The dress is not cooperating.”

“Uh…” He watched you take a seat in one of the foyer chairs, “I…okay.”

He took the items from you unraveling the socks as you started to pull the dress up. He let the breath he was holding out as he pulled the sock up gently around your ankle.

You giggled as touched your other foot getting him to glance up past the frills, “Sorry…I’m a little ticklish.”

He began lacing the first boot, “It’s fine…I have a few points myself.”

“Wow…Hades, King of the Underworld admits he’s ticklish.” You smirked a little, “Where at?”

He returned the smirk his eyes darkening mischievously as he put the other boot on, “I can’t tell all my secrets…”

“That’s a secret I’m going to have to figure out.” He looked up to you raising and eyebrow when you realized how he might have taken it, “Oh…I didn’t mean anything…I just thought it might be handy to know…”

“Plotting against me already?” He stood up bushing his pants off, “I should have known it would only be a matter of time. Next you’ll be commanding Cerberus to do you bidding.”

“You know…you’re delivery is really dry.” You reached up adjusting his tie, “I suppose I can’t ask you to change…you are what…2000…3000 years old?”

“Something like that.” He stared into your smoky eyes matching your dress. Despite the pleasant transaction you were having with him he still felt a small weight in his chest, “About yesterday…”

“I’m sorry…” Took a step away from him, not wanted you to do, “I shouldn’t have spoken out like that…”

“No, no, you should have. It’s what I want. I’m tired of silent halls where everyone tells me what I want to hear, and believe me the dead always tell you what you want to hear.” He sighed looking down for a moment. When he met your eyes he found what he wanted to say harder, “I…you…y-you were right.”

“Hades…” You looked down at your hands shaking your head, “You don’t have to say or do anything.”

“I do.” He took your hands in his so you would look at him, “I say I want you to be comfortable…that I hope you make this your home, but then make you tell me what you’re thinking. I’m used of gods and goddess stabbing each other in the back…being unfeeling… I’m not used of someone…someone…”

“Being human?” You finished for him.

“Being kind.” He corrected you watching surprise ripple over him, “Being compassionate…selfless…all things you are. All things that intrigue me about you.”

Silence fell between the two of you as he watched your face turn pink, “I don’t think I’m doing anything out of the ordinary…”

“I know.” He smiled taking your arm looping it into his moving toward the door, “All the same…you were right. I was hurt…a long time ago. You’re the first person to really point it out.”

“Sorry…” He shrugged it off before you asked, “Who…was it?”

He stopped at the door freezing up trying to push the name away, “I prefer not to bring it up. The incident was unpleasant…Are you ready?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. He could tell you wanted to push the question, but opted for another, “How long does it take to get to Olympus from here?”

“Oh…not long.” He opened the door for you as you stepped through missing his smirk. You stopped when you stepped into a room full of people instantly taking step back into him. His hands landed on your shoulders as he pressed his mouth to your ear, “No turning back now.”

#all hail the new queen #hades #hades/mortal #hades reader #hadesglance #hades/reader #olympus #olympians

[cheekyrhett]

Who’d make the better camboy or, if it’s both, what’s each of their specialties?

they’re both fantastic. see your other ask for specifics. 

in regards to specialties, rhett really likes to roleplay. when he dresses up, he maintains character even when he’s covered in frills and fishnet stockings and ill-fitting heels. he can be submissive in one moment and really dominant the next. rhett will give you everything you need but withhold just enough to make the chat wanting more. rhett’s specialties include black and white lace, red satin, flails, whips, and nipple play. rhett likes fucking himself with a thick black toy and biting his lip. he likes getting his beard messy with drool and making love to the webcam with his eyes. he’s known for his bigness, his deep southern drawl drawing the watchers in and forcing them to tip more with his teasing. rhett’s a character, he’s malleable, he’s verse. he’ll give you just what you need even if you didn’t think you needed it. he’s nasty. he’s sticky. he’s a naughty boy. 

link’s specialty is his cockiness and his performance of his own desires. when link dresses up, he only uses a few things and lets his body take over the rest. maybe it’s just a choker, or just a collar, or just fishnets. he’ll have body chains but completely ignore them in favor of touching his own body. he’s got the filthiest fucking mouth, gets even filthier when he’s too into it. he’s a cocky little shit and his specialty is making the chat go crazy-horny for him. he’s really popular, maybe he’s the better known camboy, but rhett’s fanbase is stronger, more intimate. link has thousands of viewers, some of which don’t even feel worthy enough to touch themselves because he’s so hot. they just sit and watch. and link knows, link wants people to look at him, lust for him. link’s specialty is putting on a show and using his masculine/feminine instincts. he’s more lewd in what he shows, and he finishes quicker than rhett does. he’s a wild boy, all frazzled pink by his own goddamn hands and when his eyes close and his head tips back, you know everyone in chat is done for. link’s specialty is making you want him but knowing you won’t have him, but rhett’s specialty is making you feel like he’s all yours, just yours, your baby and nobody else’s. 

#camboy au #hi i'm drowning? #thank you #Anonymous