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graphicpepsi · 2 days

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desperate (nsfw, mdni)

OR: what happens when König returns from 6 months of deployment

Opening the door to your massive boyfriend felt surreal. There he is, standing in 25 pounds of gear like it's nothing, staring at you through traumatized yet stoic eyes.

He wraps his arms around you before he even gets in the door. His strong arms place themselves on your body like they'd never left; a hand on your back, the other on the back of your neck, softly pressing your head into his shoulder.

You inhale him, shamelessly, smelling metallic blood and sweat, musk and shampoo, him.

Neither of you are inclined to pull away completely, but enough to allow room for a long awaited kiss. König tugs his mask up to reveal his lips and kisses you harshly, your teeth clashing with a delicate force.

It had been months since you and König had touched each other. Months of letters, clandestine polaroids and whispery moans over private pay phones on the rare occasion he was free.

But now he was here, and alive, and god, if he left you now you think you'd die. A kind of electricity pulses in your fingertips, dancing along every piece of him you can find.

You pull him through the door with a rough tug of his vest, and you know he's only letting you control him because fuck he's strong.

The door slams shut behind you and almost immediately he's pressed you against the wall, his grip on your waist firm with intent. Reluctantly, he parts from you momentarily to remove the more dangerous parts of his gear that could hurt you. It was only a few seconds but it felt like an hour for you.

Your whole body is hot, overwhelmed with so many feelings both physical and emotional. You're overstimulated by him in the most beautiful, intoxicating way.

His hands are back on you and your chest is about to explode into a million tiny pieces.

"I love you so much," You whisper absent-mindedly into his neck as he kisses down yours. Your voice cut through the silence but neither of you minded, and neither of you seemed to be bothered by the wordless touching, breathing and feeling of the other. He grunts into your neck, and god that's hot.

König's hand delves into your shorts, his other gripping your thigh firmly. His hand ghosts over your pussy and you whine, shutting your eyes and leaning your head against the wall in anticipation. It's all too much. It's too much but it's what you need.

He doesn't make you wait. Doesn't tease you, edge you, make you beg for it; it's been months already. You both know he'll have you crying in frustration and desperation in a matter of hours, pussy dripping with slick and spit running down your neck, mewling with the pleasure of being denied by him- but that's not what tonight is.

Tonight is for you and him to feel each other, to find each other again. Because god knows it's been too long since his hands have been on you.

His fingers press into you, softly at first but rougher as he realizes how wet you are, how your body seems to melt and conform underneath him.

"Fuck, Köni," You whisper, hands flying up to grab at the back of his neck. He hoists one of your legs over his arm, giving him better access to your pussy. He has 3 fingers in you now, curling them and fucking them into you roughly, eyes staring at you frighteningly lovingly behind his mask.

He loves seeing you like this. He's missed it. He can't hear the noises you make in a polaroid.

"König, Kö- I'm gonna-" You can't even form words when he hits that spot in you. His rough fingers fuck into you relentlessly and you come for the first time, legs vibrating around him. You're completely relying on him to support you but you know he can.

Your head falls onto his shoulder, mouth panting as it presses sloppy kisses to the collar of his uniform. You haven't came like that in months and he hasn't even fucked you proper yet.

He lets you come down from your orgasm, looking into your eyes fearlessly.

In a matter of seconds he picks you up and carries you to your shared bedroom, laying you on the bed like you're made of silk. He cares so much about you it makes you want to cry.

You're about to take your shirt off when he stops you.

"I want to," He says plainly, pulling his mask and shirt off in one movement.

You could worship him like this easily. You haven't seen that lovely, handsome face in so long- god, you can name every scar on it, every crease-

His shirtless figure towers over you and it only makes you even more wet. The curve of his giant shoulders, his chest, the soft abs that litter his core-

You don't realize you're staring until he snaps his fingers, a playful smirk on his face. (God you've missed that smirk."

He strips down to his boxers and you can tell he's rock hard. His dick slaps against his stomach with every movement and you want to touch it so bad, wanna please him as he's pleased you.

His cold hands send shivers up your spine when they trace your waist to take your shirt off, and again when they unclip your bra. He tugs your shorts and underwear off and you're completely exposed in front of him.

Instinctively, you go to cover your pussy, but he grabs both of your wrists with one hand so fast he almost seems angry.

"None of that." He grunts, meeting your eyes. "Do you want this?"

"Yes, f'so long, Köni,"

"Sh, I know, me too. God, me too. I'll take care of you, love." He says, climbing on top of you and kissing your bare skin sloppily. Your skin is so fucking hot, you don't want his cool mouth to ever leave it.

He thrusts a finger into you, then two, but quickly realizes your pussy is practically begging him to shove his dick into you. You could be embarrassed over how wet you are, how much you're pulsing for him.

He throws your legs over his shoulders and positions himself so that his forearms rest on either side of your head, your noses so close they could touch.

And then he starts to enter you, all 8" of him.

"Fuck- shit, König, so big-"

"So fucking tight, schatz-"

He thrusts into you roughly, mercilessly, fucking you deep into the mattress and studying your eyes as he does so. Your hands grab at his back, clawing at it to the point where you're sure you're leaving marks. But you can't help it, and he wants you to mark him.

All you can think about is his dick, and how his skin feels on yours, how his breath feels on your face, how his grunts sound in your ear.

Fuck you've missed this dick. Stretches you out so good, hits you so deep, so rough and thick.

He's fucking you so good, and when he reaches a hand down to slap and play with your clit you know you're gone.

"König, Kö I'm gonna-"

"Come, love. Come on my dick."

You come with a shudder, and for a second you think you've gone to heaven with the way your body feels. Warm static fills your entire body.

Moments later he comes as well, pulling out at the last second to spill his come all over your tits and stomach.

He collapses on the bed next to you, pulling your shaking body onto his. He'll clean you both up in a matter of minutes, but he doesn't want to leave you just yet, too obsessed with the way your small body feels on his. Too caught up watching your bare chest breathe sporadically, trying to catch your breath.

God, you've missed this.

A/N: This is my first time posting on here I'm an ao3 veteran but I loveeee this man so much like fr wanna blend him up & drink him like a smoothie. If u like my writing that's super cool and i'll take ideas or wtv from y'all for sure. Hope you enjoyed :)

#konig x reader #könig #konig call of duty #konig x y/n #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig smut #konig mw2 #cod smut #cod mw2 #codnsfw #iwasgigglingwheniwrotethis

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gaylordscooter · 1 day

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Where Fate Leads Us

Killer, Dust and Horror were in Killer's room, folding the multitude of clothes.

“don't expect me to do more of the chores around here just because you two offered to help me,” Killer said.

“sure, you'll be too busy with laundry anyway,” Horror chuckled.

“i literally will,” he said in full seriousness. He placed the shirt he folded onto the stack of shirts in his closet that was getting taller than he was standing. “i know i’ve joked that you two ain’t allowed to borrow my clothes—but yeah, please take some of these. i didn't expect there to be this much.”

“eh, it's not my style,” Horror shrugged, holding a pair of ripped jeans.

“horror, bud. please.”

Horror shook his head, “shouldn't have gotten so many clothes, man.”

“i swear nightmare gave me more than i grabbed.”

“that's definitely not true.”

“dust, back me up.”

Dust did not back him up.

Killer sighed, looking at his hubris that was the closet filled to the brim with stacks of clothing. He wouldn't have to do laundry that often if he washed all his clothes once he ran out of clean ones, but that would take so long. Eh, he’ll worry about it later.

They didn't see Nightmare until they started to eat dinner. He arrived without a word, keeping his gaze forward and away from the three as he walked over to the door to the hallway.

Killer dropped his fork upon seeing him.

A good amount of the goop on his body was gone, as if half of his body was washed off. Or scorched off. Something smelled burnt.

What surprised Killer the most was seeing his skull. He was a skeleton and he looked like him. He didn't expect that.

Nightmare spared a quick glance at Killer as he tried to walk faster. His gait was erratic, akin to limping. What little slime there was formed slim tendrils by his legs that he used as support to walk.

The three stayed silent until a few moments after he left.

“he looks younger than me,” Killer said.

But rather than questioning it, the three decided to drop it there.

They didn’t see much of Nightmare until a whole week later.

They were sitting at one of the tables in the Great Hall, conversing with each other. Soon enough the topic steered over to Nightmare.

“nightmare hasn't put us through anything recently, huh? not even a game of uno,” Horror said. Last time there was a dip in activity, he was paranoid, but he was oddly calm about it this time. Seeing Nightmare's other form changed the way he saw him, he supposed. It was easier to personify him. “what do you two think he's up to?”

Dust merely shrugged. Either because he didn't feel like talking or because he really didn't have a clue.

Killer seemed lost in thought, before speaking up, “he apologized.”

“huh?” Horror cocked his head.

“he apologized, for putting us through all that shit. maybe he meant it?” That apology would be worth nothing if he continued to do it, after all. Which is what he was expecting, but it's been a whole week since then and he has yet to tell them to do anything.

“he actually apologized? that's hilarious,” Horror said.

“i think he was being genuine, but i wonder why he’s been out more often.”

The obvious conclusion to this behavior would be that he's planning something, but none of them jumped to it. Perhaps they were beginning to trust him.

They were also all in a good mood today.

Killer was able to get a good night’s sleep and woke up well-rested for once. He had a good breakfast consisting of ungodly amounts of buttered toast, tended to the cats, and now he was hanging out with the other two. It was a solid day.

Dust also appeared to be in a lighter mood. He was chatty by his standards and overall more relaxed. It was like less stuff was on his mind.

Horror didn't feel on edge constantly, almost feeling how he used to before the core went kaput. It was as if he felt safe, almost.

In fact, they’ve been in a good mood this whole past week. If their year-ago selves saw them now they'd find this weird and crazy.

“though, he always comes and goes in such a hurry…”

As if on cue, Nightmare entered the hall, throwing the doors open in a dramatic fashion that called for attention. He only had four tentacles out at the moment. That was half the usual amount.

“Hello,” he greeted. “How has everyone been today?” He has never asked that question before. He was being friendlier, perhaps.

“i’m doin’ good,” Killer answered without a second thought.

“‘m fine,” Horror said.

Dust nodded, indicating he felt the same.

Nightmare hid his smile. “I see, carry on then.” He left the hall, sinking into the ground to reappear in his room.

It was happening.

He felt incredibly weak at the moment, sure, but it would all pay off. He just needed to be patient.

He collapsed on his bed, reverting to his normal “passive” form as the protector of the multiverse called it. He was nearing the end of his plan. He will enact the last step tomorrow. He had to. If his exhaustion was anything to go by, he was running out of time.

The next morning, Killer was first to wake up. Another night of feeling well rested. It was a miracle. He sat up and stretched before getting up to throw on a change of clothes.

He went out to the hall, glancing at Horror and Dust’s doors before heading over to the kitchen.

He opened the pantry only to be met with nothing but chocolate bars. Instead of getting annoyed or mad he laughed.

He shut the pantry and composed himself. Why did he find it funny? Nightmare definitely targeted him with that one—No, it was just coincidence.

It was?

Killer shook his head trying to snap himself out of whatever was happening.

Something was happening, right? Something was off.

Nothing was off. He was just being silly.

He scratched the back of his head, opting to open the fridge.

And there was nothing but ketchup.

He slammed the door shut. Laughter erupted from his metaphorical throat. He ended up collapsing to the floor from how hard he was laughing.

He couldn't breathe. He didn't need to breathe.

But his chest still hurt. No it didn't. He couldn't feel pain.

Everything was fine.

His soul snapped into a target shape. He gasped for air and scrambled up to stand. It was like cold water was dumped onto him.

Something’s wrong, he tested the thought. Nothing came to counter it.

Something was messing with his head. For how long? Oh god, for how long?

Where the hell was Dust and Horror?! He wasn't ever the first to arrive in the kitchen, let alone first to wake up.

A cackle echoed throughout the area as the kitchen warped and twisted. The floorboards underneath him cracked and splintered, revealing dark nothingness beneath. The patterns on the wall had eyes, all glaring at him.

What the fuck was happening?

He choked out a breath, rushing over to the door that led to the hall. The door itself looked normal but when he grabbed the doorknob he couldn't let go of it, as if it grabbed back.

Was he still dreaming? Was this a hallucination?

The door flung open. He still couldn't let go of the handle.

It was Nightmare.

“Good morning, Killer,” he said calmly, as if their surroundings weren't collapsing in on itself. “Leaving the kitchen so soon? You haven't even eaten yet. Was the food not to your liking? But I picked it out just for you.” It sounded like his voice was coming from all directions. It was disorienting to say the least.

His eye, along with the eyes on the walls darted to his soul. He looked disappointed when he noticed its shape. He tsked, “After all the work I’ve put in, the stubborn thing is still unstable?”

“wh-what the hell are you talking about?” he rasped.

Nightmare snatched his soul with one of his hands. He leered down at it like a predator stalking its prey. He molded it with his hands back into the shape of a normal monster soul while Killer keened.

Killer grit his teeth as his emotions hit him at full force. It was now that he realized the unusual happiness he felt these past few days was not normal. That had to be Nightmare's doing.

That's why he thought he trusted him.

“you,” he growled, “you asshole!”

Nightmare merely drank up his anger with an amused expression. “Yes? Is that anything new?” he asked.

“fuck you!”

“Using big boy words now, aren't we?”

“i hate you.”

Nightmare was unfazed by the comment. “Tell me something I don't know.”

The door, along with the handle keeping Killer captive, suddenly disappeared. However, he still couldn't move. It was like he had sleep paralysis.

But unfortunately, he knew the demon was real.

“Do you want to know something funny? It isn’t just that I gain energy from negativity, positive emotions hurt. They sting like pouring acid on a wound as you wrench it open. But it was all worth enduring just to see the look of betrayal on your face.”

He was foolish. He was an idiot. He was an utter idiot!

Nightmare's smile spread impossibly wide across his face, curling up at the edges as he took in all of Killer's anguish. He was reveling in it.

“The best part, you were right to be untrusting. And then you second guessed yourself, leading to your downfall. It's pathetically hilarious.”

Killer wanted to wipe that smug face off so badly.

“I may not be able to force people to be happy like my brother, but I can maintain what is there by taking away your ability to feel anything negative. Isn't that fascinating? Your happiness was real. I tore that away from you.”

He felt sick. He felt utterly sick.

“I wonder. Do you think you three were the first ones?”

There was too much liquid determination leaking from his sockets. He retched, leaving a puddle on the torn up ground. He coughed more out, trying to prevent himself from choking on it.

Nightmare watched the display in amusement. He leaned down, reaching a hand out to caress the side of his face in a false display of affection. “Oh, Killer,” he cooed, voice sickly sweet, “You're getting my floors dirty.”

His touch was painful. It trudged up old and awful memories. He imagined that this is what everyone he killed felt when he dealt the final blow. With effort, he managed to tilt his head away from his hand.

Nightmare withdrew his hand, wiping it on his cloak as if Killer was covered in dirt.

“Oh mortals, so easy to fool. You pretend not to know things, ask questions and suddenly you seem less of a threat. He's ignorant to the world. So innocent. Surely he’s just misguided.”

Killer’s breath hitched. He tried not to break down in front of him. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn't. Usually it was second nature to suppress his emotions, but it was too much now.

God, it was all an act for a false sense of security. He played with them like dolls and now he was tossing them out. What was going to happen now? Was he going to kill him?

Back then he wouldn't have cared about that. But now, he wanted to live. He had people he cared about again.

Did he already kill Dust and Horror?

“You're crying,” he said with false concern. “Be grateful you're able to. The others and your cats didn't even have the chance to.”

“NO!” Killer cried at the implications. The dam broke as he sobbed audibly. He clutched at his head, digging his fingers into his skull. He was hyperventilating. “no, you didn't. you didn’t—no.” He collapsed to his knees, shaking as he repeated his words of disbelief.

“You're alone, Killer,” he said in a tone that was a mockery of comfort. His sadness was euphoric. “You know, you were always my favorite out of the bunch.”

Killer was hardly listening now, too wracked with grief to hear.

“Because I knew how satisfying it would be to build you back up, just to tear you down again.”

And it was satisfying. Killer served him a mess of emotions in a cocktail just for him.

This is what he wanted. This is what he was made for. Was the multiverse finally happy with him?

Everything went dark. Killer shut his eye sockets tight and braced himself for certain death.

“Goodbye,” Nightmare growled.

When he opened them, he saw white. He had to blink his sockets until they adjusted to the brightness. Was this the afterlife? It was so empty.

And quiet.

He stayed on the ground, unable to find the effort to stand. So that was it, huh? He thought he was given a second chance. He was given back control over his life—but that was just a mere illusion. They were all his puppets in the end. He was just good at hiding their strings.

He couldn’t deny the sense of betrayal he felt. It was funny, he knew he couldn’t trust him.

He was still crying. There was a stain on the ground now created by the liquid determination pouring from his sockets.

He remembered when he thought dying would bring him peace, but now he was mourning all the things he was unable to do. He already missed Dust and Horror.

He laid on the ground for a little while, numb to the passage of time.

“—and there's the third. Hey man, you good?” A voice spoke.

Killer jolted and staggered to his feet. He looked around the area frantically, not finding anyone nearby—until he looked down. He screamed and backed away on instinct.

It was another skeleton, notably shorter than him, but still looked like a Sans regardless. However, this one dressed drastically different from any Sans he’s seen. He wore a scarf around his neck, some kind of crop top over a white tank top, long brown gloves that only covered his ring and pinky finger, and a brown jumpsuit worn like pants with the sleeves tied around his waist. It was safe to say he was a fashion disaster.

He raised his hands to show he was empty handed and meant no harm. “It's okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The way he spoke reminded Killer of how he’d talk to a scared cat. Another sharp pang hit his soul as he remembered that he’ll never be able to see his cats again. “who the hell are you?” he asked, voice raw from all his screaming.

The skeleton looked confused at the question but answered anyway, “The name’s ink.” He did a dorky pose where he pointed to himself as he said that.

“so i’m not dead?” he questioned aloud.

“I sure hope you aren't. Your friends would be sad.”

Killer narrowed his eyes warily. “what friends?”

“Two sanses like you, one had a red eye and the other had his hood covering his face. They asked if i saw you.”

“when did you see them?! they're alive?” Hope kindled in his soul before he had the chance to be cautious.

“They are. I took them over to the hub just a bit ago,” Ink explained. “I can take you to them.”

“please!” Killer hastily said. He didn't even know what the “hub” was but all he knew is that he needed to get over to Dust and Horror now.

He reached his hand out to him.

Killer grabbed it without hesitation.

Ink’s scarves moved like prehensile tails and painted the ground beneath them which promptly turned into a hole.

The two of them fell, startling Killer, but fortunately once they got close to the ground, Ink slowed their fall by floating somehow.

He let go of his hand once they landed.

They were in a whole different world. His eye sockets widened. He looked around the new area and saw a multitude of unfamiliar people.

“killer?”

He whipped his head in the direction of the voice. His face lit up upon seeing Horror and Dust. “guys!” he shouted. He bolted over to the two, tackling them down into a hug.

“you're both alive!” he exclaimed. He clung to the two of them like a koala. “i thought nightmare killed you guys.”

“we thought nightmare killed you.” Horror patted his back comfortingly while Dust simply hugged him back.

Killer ended the hug and stood up after a bit, helping the two up. “i’m so glad it was a bluff,” he said in relief. “fuck, what an asshole.”

“what did he do to you? it looks like you were doused with black paint.”

Killer glanced down at his clothes. Sure enough there were black stains. He didn't really want to think about what happened, but even as he did he found it hard to describe. “well, first of all, everything was fucked up like i was having a bad trip, and then he gloated about killing you two and then i thought he killed me.” It was a really poor summary, but he believed he got the point across.

“and what’s up with all that?” Horror gestured to the black stains that trailed from his face to his shirt.

“i threw up,” Killer said, trying to wipe off the dried determination near his teeth.

Horror absentmindedly wiped his own shirt. He was transparently concerned.

“Woah woah woah, what the hell are these three doing here?!” a new voice shouted.

The three of them snapped their attention to the unfamiliar person, making him freeze in place as a result.

Killer noticed that Ink was next to him.

He was yet another Sans, slightly taller than Ink but shorter than the three of them. He wore a torn-up lab coat over a blue-gray shirt, navy blue pants, blueish-green gloves and boots of supposedly the same rubber-like material. He also wore a bandana the same color as his boots and gloves around his neck.

In short, he looked like a nerd.

Ink told him something too quietly for them to catch.

The nerd-looking Sans, gave them a weird look before daring to walk over to them with Ink trailing behind. He reached his hand out for a handshake. “Hi,” he said simply.

No one made a move to return the handshake.

“Don't any of you know how to greet a new pal?” The way he said that felt practiced. And then he snickered and dropped his hand. “So none of you remember those times you almost killed me? Cool. That's great. The name’s Blue.”

The three exchanged glances amongst themselves, seeing if any of them recognized this “Blue”. Nope, none of them did.

None of them felt inclined to introduce themselves either.

Blue tugged at his bandana awkwardly and then swiveled around to Ink. “do they have to be here?”

Ink rolled his eyelights. “Yes, it's a thing.”

“Like how Dream bursting into flames and turning into some eldritch angel for a bit was a thing?”

Ink didn't even have to reply.

“Of course it is,” he sighed. He turned back around. “Anyway!” The increase in volume made the three flinch, but Blue didn't seem to notice. “Welcome to the hub! This is a place of refuge for people who’s universes have been destroyed or sucked badly, et cetera, et cetera, don't kill anyone here and you'll be provided a home along with food and water, probably.”

They were all disoriented by this change of pace. So they really were just going to live somewhere completely different now. Said somewhere being populated with many other people.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Horror looked uncertain while Dust looked uncomfortable. Killer, on the other hand, looked elated.

“guys this means we're free. we’re free from nightmare!” he realized. “you're not gonna torture us, are you?” he asked Blue.

“Oh god no,” he replied, sounding repulsed.

Killer pumped his fist in the air as if that was a plus instead of the bare minimum.

Blue looked to the side awkwardly. “So then, Ink here will find you guys a place to stay and if you have any questions you can ask me, or Cross and Chara. Those two are the ones who founded the place after all, but they aren't here right now, unfortunately.”

“where can we get some food?” Killer asked. Hunger decided to hit him now and it was likely Dust and Horror were hungry too. None of them got to eat breakfast, to his knowledge.

“Oh, there's a Grillby’s—”

“anything but a grillby’s?” he sounded a bit desperate asking that.

“I gotcha covered!” Ink chimed in, nudging Blue aside. “I can get you guys whatever you want. I’ll get you guys a room first. Follow me.” He walked off towards the buildings in the distance.

There were a lot of other people around the area. A good amount were also skeletons. For the most part, they’d mind their own business, only glancing at them from time to time as they followed Ink.

Dust avoided looking at everyone, especially trying to make himself look small when nearing a Papyrus.

At one point Horror came to a sudden halt with a horrified expression.

There was an Undyne and Alphys, the two clearly together, nearby.

“what? you hate love or something?” Killer snickered.

Horror pulled his tattered hood on. “don't joke with me right now, killer,” he grumbled.

Killer went quiet and kept his head down. He hoped they were almost there. He kept looking at the buildings as they walked along trying to find one that looked remotely like the place they would stay. He realized that, while Horror and Dust seemed bothered by seeing different versions of people they knew, he saw all of these guys as mere strangers. Try as he might, when he sees a Papyrus he doesn't feel anything and can only go off of vague memories to know that he should be feeling something more.

He hesitated to kill his Papyrus. Why did he look at these other versions of him and feel nothing towards them?

He remembered when Nightmare brought a Papyrus to the castle and when they hugged. He didn't feel that much back then either, but he chalked that up to his soul being on the fritz.

“We're here!” Ink finally said. “Well, this is where Horror’ll stay—if you guys want to be separate, that is.”

The building they were in front of looked like an actual house rather than an apartment.

“how the hell do you know my name?”

“Your brother told me, duh,” Ink said as if he should’ve known already.

“my brother?! is he here?” Horror questioned. He looked like he’d strangle Ink if he was joking with him.

Ink pointed to the building with his thumb. “He’s living in there with a few others from your world. I think he's in there right now.”

Horror approached the door and knocked.

“Who’s there?”

That was Toriel’s voice.

“amish,” he answered.

“Amish who?”

“I missed you too.”

Toriel laughed, thankfully. He was pretty rusty on his knock knock jokes. He wasn't sure that one would land.

The door opened a few seconds later.

Toriel looked healthier and less burdened. Her fur was well taken care of rather than matted like it was the last time he saw her. She also had new robes that were much more vibrant in color. She smiled fondly at him. “Hello, Sans.”

He couldn't believe this was real. “heya, toriel.”

He heard a stampede coming from behind her as the whole gang from Grillby’s went up to the door. A chorus of “Sans!” rang out.

“‘sup, guys?” He was surprised to see that all of them were staying in the house.

Many of them were saying things like “we thought you died” and “where the hell have you been?”.

Everyone looked a lot livelier.

Papyrus managed to push himself out from the crowd, Toriel stepping aside to let him get closer to his brother.

Papyrus looked more like his old self. There weren't any more blood stains on him, but his teeth were still crooked. His outfit was completely different. He was wearing what appeared to be a red-orange knitted sweater with the text “Cool Dude” embroidered in white in the middle of it. His jagged neck was exposed without his cape on.

Soon enough, Sans was off the ground and lifted into the air by Papyrus as he brought him into a tight hug. “I KNEW I’D SEE YOU AGAIN!” he said excitedly.

“missed you too, bro. i hope you weren't too bonely without me.”

Papyrus let out a sob at his joke, but not in annoyance but rather joy.

“you good?”

“I MISSED YOUR PUNS,” he admitted. “IT WASN’T THE SAME WHEN TORIEL WOULD MAKE THEM.”

“you dead serious? of corpse toriel can't hold a candle to me, she’s just not as humerus. no body’s funnier than a skeleton like me.”

Toriel snickered at his rapid-fire jokes.

“AND IT’S WORN OFF! I NO LONGER MISS THEM,” he said lightheartedly. He set Sans down carefully. “WOWIE, YOUR CLOTHES SURE ARE…SOMETHING.”

Right, he practically was dressed in tattered rags.

“I THINK I HAVE SOME OF YOUR CLOTHES PACKED IN MY ROOM. DOGARESSA SAID I WAS OVER PACKING BUT I KNEW I WAS RIGHT TO BRING THEM!” he raised his voice even louder as he mentioned Dogaressa. “COME INSIDE, I’LL SHOW YOU OUR ROOM!” Papyrus walked back inside the house eagerly.

Sans smiled but paused before taking a step in. He looked back to Dust and Killer, who were watching his reunion.

“Are those friends of yours?” Toriel asked.

Friends. He doesn't think any of them have called each other a friend before.

“uh, yeah,” he said quietly.

“Why not introduce them to us?” she suggested.

He never thought about the possibility of introducing Killer and Dust to them. He wasn't sure how something like that would go. Their names themselves would be off-putting. He motioned for them to come over.

They looked hesitant, as if they weren't sure if he really did want them to come over. Eventually, they bit the bullet and started walking over.

“Hello there,” Toriel greeted. “I take it, you two are friends of Sans?”

Man, they've killed different versions of everyone inside that house, Killer thought awkwardly. “yup, the name’s killer.”

She seemed to be more concerned with his odd soul than his name. To her credit, she didn't question either. “My name is Toriel, it is nice to meet you.” She looked at Dust, who was probably sweating bullets underneath his hood. “And you are?”

Dust kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze downward as if the ground was very interesting.

“oh uh, he doesn't talk. we call him…” Killer desperately tried to think of any other name to call him that didn’t literally mean corpse. “dusk.”

“It is nice to meet you as well, Dusk.”

“Nice of you guys to get acquainted,” Ink said, appearing behind the two skeletons. “Now if you don't mind, you two, we gotta get a move on. I’m a busy skeleton.”

“right, we’ll see you around,” Killer said. “bye, h—sans.”

Sans waved goodbye and went inside the house after his brother.

“Farewell,” Toriel said and then closed the door.

Ink led them to a hotel building a few blocks away from the house. The walk was quiet and lackluster.

That is, until Killer realized something. “hang on.”

“Hm?”

“you said horror’s brother told you his name.”

“Yup!” he confirmed.

“Horror’s brother doesn't know he's called that.”

Ink looked like he was caught robbing a bank, and then he laughed it off. “Wow, it took you that long to notice that? Anyway,” he gestured to the hotel, “this is where you two will be staying.”

“don’t just change topics—”

“I don't have time to explain to you who I am and how I know literally everything about you. Like how you're gonna ask me if you're gonna share a room with Dusk and then you'll get sad when I tell you ‘well I did have two rooms prepared’ and then stupidly happy when I say ‘but if you want you guys can share a room’.”

Killer looked mortified. What the hell was this guy’s deal? Could he see the future?

Ink handed him a key. “Anyway, here's your room key, it's on the second floor. Yes there's two beds but I doubt you need the extra one—”

“hey.”

“Have fun.” His scarf painted a hole in the ground and he jumped into it.

Killer sighed, inspecting the key in his hand. It had the room number on it, fortunately. “c’mon, man,” he said to Dust.

The two of them walked into the hotel, which thankfully didn't have anyone in the lobby at the moment. They were able to get in their room without any interruptions.

The moment Killer locked the door shut, Dust threw himself onto one of the beds with a sigh.

“how you holding up, dust?”

“don't call me that,” he muttered angrily.

“oh.” He went over to sit on the other bed, proving Ink wrong. “so is ‘dusk’ fine?”

He didn't protest, so he assumed it was a yes. It was funny, they hardly sounded different. In fact, Killer came up with that name because it sounded similar.

Was it because of the meaning behind the words or because of the person who gave him the name that made the difference? Killer knew it was more likely to be the former.

Dusk laid on the bed lifelessly, as if he was an actual dead skeleton.

Killer couldn't blame him. The only reason he wasn't breaking down was because someone else was in the room, and he was getting tired of all this emotional turmoil.

He heard a knock at the door. “i’m going to stab whoever's outside if you don't make like a tree and fuck off,” he threatened.

“Geez! I just brought you guys some food. It's lumpia. I’ll leave it at the door,” that sounded like Blue.

Killer waited a bit until he got up to open the door. There was a bag of takeout on the ground. He picked it up and shut the door, locking it again.

Inside the containers was a food he didn't recognize. thank god, he would've snapped if it was Grillby’s. He left one of the containers on Dusk’s bedside counter.

He ate like a starving animal, pleased to find out that the “lumpia”, as Blue called it, was pretty good. Honestly, he’d eat literal dirt but that didn't stop him from appreciating well-cooked food.

He heard Dusk sit up and grab the container on his bedside counter.

They ate in silence for a bit.

“i’m glad you're not dead,” Dusk said eventually.

Killer snickered, “me too.” He realized how that came out. “i’m also glad that you're alive, i mean.”

He saw him smiling underneath his hood.

“i dunno if my cats are okay, though. even if he doesn't hurt them directly…who's gonna take care of them?” His smile faltered.

Dusk put the container back and got up to sit next to him. He thought of what to say. He wasn’t that good at comforting people in the past and he definitely wasn’t good at it now. “they were strays, right? they’ll probably be able to fend for themselves.”

“god, i hope so.” That wasn’t even taking into account the possibility that Nightmare himself will hurt them. Killer supposed he never explicitly said he killed anyone, and the other two turned out to be fine, but that didn’t stop him from fearing the worst.

He felt Dusk’s arm awkwardly wrap around him. Instinctively he turned to hug him back.

Maybe they’ll end up okay.

#utmv fic #nightmare sans #killer sans #horror sans #dust sans

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snakeredbirdbatkatana · 22 hours

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You Didn't Save me (I begged You Not To)

Lex Luthor is not a good man.

He is a literal supervillain, he's also more than aware of the consent issues of what he did when he created Connor.

Yet he is surprised by how furious Superman is making him.

Not that he isn't always angry with Superman but before it wasn't quite so personal.

It was a bigger issue what Superman stood for what he was but right now he's not picking the fight with Superman but with Clark Kent.

He has spent as much time as possible studying everything about kryptonian's from their weakness to their language.

Essentially, Superman should keep better track of his belongings.

Kon-El means abomination.

Lionel Luthor was never a kind man he knows exactly why he is who he is today. He still has slight scars from his fathers belt. Cruel words that years after his father's death, will still haunt his memories.

When he was younger he was friends with Bruce Wayne before being a Villain was his priority.

He remembers hiding at Wayne Manor a feeling of safety he had never felt before.

He's also more than aware that his old friend is running around as a Bat.

Bruce Wayne even as a child always stood for hope was always ready to change the world to stand for something better.

That's is why years later Lex Luthor is knocking on a door that he's not hundred percent sure he won't be turned away from.

Yet Kon-El means abomination.

"Mr. Luthor I was unaware Master Bruce was expecting you?"

Alfred looks older than Lex remembers for some reason the man always seemed above aging untouchable even by time.

"He's not, I need to speak with him please it's urgent."

He is a Luthor begging is below him, but right now he feels fourteen again, with the belief that the people within Wayne Manor can fix anything.

"Of course. Master Bruce is in his study, I will lead you please follow me Mr. Luthor."

He doesn't bring up how he knows the way. That he once ran chasing after Bruce hiding in that very study. That they had broken Vase playing like little boys did. He doesn't bring up crying, terrified that Alfred had promised him no harm should come to him in these halls.

He doesn't correct how he used to be Master Lex. He lost that privilege long ago.

It's been a very long time since he has laid eyes on Bruce Wayne he's seen the tabloids, even a passing glance at a gala but for some reason he didn't picture slight gray hair, a dark black suit, he imagined a Gotham Academy Uniform or a Nirvana Shirt that Lex always wanted to steel but never quite worked up the courage.

He doesn't even hear Alfred's depart he can't tear his eyes away from Bruce.

His throat is dry like all the moisture has somehow left since he walked through the doors.

He is Lex Luthor but right now he doesn't remember what that means.

"Kon-El means abomination did you know that?"

His voice weak. Bruce's face doesn't change, blank.

" I am not my Father. I don't know what to do but I refuse for my child to think he isn't loved by at least one of his parents."

He breathes.

"All those year ago, you told me that you would help that all I had to do was ask, I was an idiot, it's too late for me but not for him."

Bruce's voice startles him he hasn't realized how deep in his own mind he had sank.

"All you had to do was ask."

Bruce's face painted in the same smirk as if they were eighteen again smoking on the manors roof.

Lex Luthor is not a good person, but for Connor Luthor he will try he will rebuild bridges, bend his pride he will beg on his knees.

He never unstood how a parent should be or what it really meant to wake up everyday and have your whole being dedicated to loving and protecting something.

As he watches the rise and fall of his child's chest wrapped in the arms of the third Robin safe in his penthouse behind security straight from Wayne Entirpries and he doesn't regret it.

He know's he would do it all over again and when next Sunday comes and he gets a invite to brunch that he never throught he would see again he knows it was all for the better.

#kon el #lex luthor #protective bruce wayne #good Lex Luthor #Bruce Wayne saves the day #good parent everyone #this is also on a03 #tim drake #batfamily #sucky Clark Kent #Tim loves Kon #fuck Lionel Luthor #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne

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athanza · 2 days

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Starlett - Part 2

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some Cooper dad fluff because why not ♡

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse and (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

The harsh sun was setting now which meant he needed to find somewhere to settle in for the night. The rickety second floor of one of these buildings would be the best option so he'd have a good vantage point if something were to happen.

As he searched for the right building he began to hear muffled screaming coming from further in the crumbled town. At first, he couldn't give a rat's ass, but he needed to know if it was a big enough threat for him to keep moving.

It didn't take long for gunshots to begin ringing out through the ruins, but they were only from 3 separate guns...then 2...then 1.

As he reached the area where the shots were coming from, the sounds of a pissed off Yao Guai became apparent, and there was one singular person left to fight it off but she looked like she was badly injured.

"You son of a bitch!!" She yelled when her gun jammed and the wounded beast readied itself for another charge.

As it lunged at her one more time a shotgun shell slammed into the side of it's head and it went down, a pink mist left in the air for a moment as the rest of it's brains splattered to the ground.

The woman turned to where the shot came from to see Cooper walking casually towards her, unable to see his face very well in the dark. She pointed her now un-jammed rifle at him just in case.

"Those things'll kill ya." He quipped.

"Yeah, no shit." She replied, wincing at the pain from a gash on her side.

He cocked his head a little. Her voice sounded familiar.

"Why don't you put down that gun so I can cut myself some bear hide and be on my way?"

She scoffed. "So you can shoot me in the face and steal all my shit? No thanks cowboy."

That was it, the confirmation he didn't think he'd get.

"Irene?" He said.

The woman paused briefly, then aimed her gun properly. "How do you know my name?"

He stepped a little closer so that the light from the lantern on the ground could illuminate his face.

It took her a moment but she recognised his eyes and immediately lowered her weapon.

"Cooper?"

2077

A scream woke Cooper up in the middle of the night and he instinctively got up and ran to his daughter's room.

"Daddy!" Janey cried when she saw him.

He came over and hugged her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's ok, it was just a dream, you're ok."

She cried into him for a moment before spluttering "Why don't you and mommy love each other anymore?"

That caught him off guard. He had no idea what to say and it hurt so much hearing her say that.

"It's not that we don't love each other honey, it's just..." He tried desperately to search for the right words. "Well...your mom and I just disagree on somethin' really important and we tried to figure it out but it was too hard."

"What did you disagree on?"

"Well...that's grown up stuff baby girl."

She sulked quietly, putting her head back on his chest.

"We still love you very very much, that hasn't changed at all."

"Is it my fault?" She asked and his heart broke.

"No baby girl, no, not at all. None of this is your fault."

"I know I haven't been doing my homework, and I don't always feed Roosevelt when I'm told and-"

He cut her off, kneeling beside the bed so he could look her in the eyes. "Janey," he held her hands. "None of this is your fault. Your mother and I loved you since the day we found out we were gonna have you. And when you were born, we looked at you and we just cried and cried.

I have never been prouder or happier than I was in that moment. And you know what? That hasn't changed a bit, not even a little."

Janey smiled, her face still wet with leftover tears.

"Really?" She sniffed.

"Yes." Cooper chuckled, scooping her up and hugging her again and she giggled. "Now, how about a hot chocolate, with double marshmallows?"

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

She hugged him as he carried her downstairs. "I love you daddy." She said.

His chest burst with warmth and happiness and he smiled. "I love you too sweetheart."

The next morning, Janey was watching cartoons on the TV while eating her breakfast and Cooper sipped greatfully at his cup of hot coffee, having not gotten much sleep.

He smiled as he heard his daughter giggle at the TV, her mouth full of cereal, and sat down at the dining table with his newspaper.

But just as he sat down the loud ringing from the telephone rang out through the kitchen and he sighed heavily.

"I'll get it!" Janey yelled and ran over, hoping it was her mother. Her face dropped when it wasn't her mother's voice she heard on the other end of the line. "Yeah he's here, I'll put him on."

Cooper looked up at her tone and she held the receiver out to him. "It's for you dad."

He walked over and took it, kissing her on the head before she went back to her cartoons.

"Hello?" He said.

"Mr. Howard, it's Irene. I'm sorry to call you at home but I need your help."

Her voice told him it was serious. "What's wrong?"

"You were right. About Frank. I know we barely know each other but I need somewhere to stay for the night before I go to my mother's up in Sacramento. Lee...Lee doesn't know."

"I uh..."

"...no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you." She said.

"No, no, it's ok. I'll make up the guest room for you."

He could hear a faint sigh of relief in her answer. "Thank you, so much, I owe you one."

He gave her his address and they hung up.

"Who was that dad?" Asked Janey.

"A friend from work. She needs a place to stay tonight so she's gonna stay in the guest bedroom. You'd like her."

She kind of shrugged in an uninterested way and took another bite of her cereal, her attention back on the TV.

He hoped no one sees Irene at his house, that's the last thing he needs in the papers, especially now.

Part 1 | Part 3

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theology101 · 1 day

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Galicaea murdered Cassandra and Sol murdered Ankarna - which is why Kipperlilly Did That

We learned in Revelations and Revivifications (Episode 11 of Season 2) that it was her Clerics from Fallinel who murdered Cassandra. That's just straight up a fact. Now, we don't know exactly what her role in this is but, "As Above, So Below." If Galicaea's top priests are making this move, then Galicaea was down with it.

I've heard a lot of people refer to the wolf aspect as if it was some 'real' version of the faith that's been corrupted. It isn't, it's an Older aspect and its one that Tracker and Co. love a lot more but both of them are a result of worship.

We learned about this 'Last Great Sylvan War' around 900 years ago about the proper way to worship Cassandra. While the High Elves who settled it went with "Erase the goddess - to understand mystery is a heresy," I'm guessing they also heavily influenced the Wood Elf/Non-High Elf variant of Galicaea into being more in line with their version. Obviously a remnant survived in folk religion like with Tracker and other Werewolf communities, her revival reveals that prior to her, there hasn't been any serious challange to Falinel statement.

I think that then Sol started marching North. Gallicaea had claimed Night as hers and hers alone, by deceiving their shy and naive sister and then went to finish the job with Ankarna. But her? No way they could convince Ankarna to kill herself, especially now that her sister was 'dead' (Cassandra technically managed to live via the Quasi-Reality inside of Sylvaire, Kristen more redefined her and allowed her to be alive outside of the Nightmare Forest).

So I think that the Human Priests of Highcourt and the Elves of Fallinel agreed to wipe them out. Sol's paladins burnt their way up the coast and conquered it - we know that the land of Elmville is native Halfling territory, but right next to it is the Mountains of Chaos which was, in my opinion, their true target. Sol wanted the aspects like Conviction, Fire, Rage, Etc. while he gave Helio Summer.

Meanwhile, Ankarna? Her turning Infernal wasn't something done to her, it was something she/her priests did. Why would they do that? Because they're being invaded. The Giants probably took on a more leadership based roll compared to the far less capable to defend themselves Halflings, Goblins, Aaracockra, arguably even Orcs. Turning more and more evil, brutal, and extreme is a result of her being back further and further into a corner. It was a defense of the other races and for her own life.

I think that, while adventuring in the Mountains of Chaos for Spring Break, the Rat Grinders found out about Ankarna's priests and believers being wiped out, maybe one of her ancinet and long forgotten temples. That was it and it would have been it, if Kipperlilly didn't learn about Cassandra. I think her sheer, burning jealousy made her want, above anything else, to bring back a Goddess herself.

And her solution was going to be Lucy Frostblade. And for about two weeks, Ankarna was brought back with Lucy being her sole worshipper. And this is what I think happened next: sweet, kind, Lucy Frostblade's Ankarna wouldn't be the warlike aspect. She'd be like how she was before the Humans and Elves attacked, a kind and loving goddess.

Except there's a problem. There's another worshipper - just one.

Jace Stardiamond, draining power from the corpse of the long dead war goddess.

So, he and Kipperlilly somehow get in contact (my money is through Oisin secretly being a sorceror the whole time and just Acing wizard classes with 0 effort) and together they agree there's only one solution - kill Lucy Frostblade so their version of Ankarna can remain. The High Five Heroes kill Lucy and all begin worhsipping Ankarna (all under the influence of Devil's Honey.) Kipperlilly, Oisin and Mary Anne are all in on it (symbolized by their Blue backgrounds) but Ivy and Rueben refuse to go along with the murder but, since they're not in the way, they're able to be devil's honeyed into not knowing (Symbolized by their red background).

Ivy's weird reaction to Fig? She always 'knew' that Lucy was alive - she's not important to the plan anyways, so she doesn't need to be included. Some random lie is fed to Ivy to explain why Lucy isn't recognized as 'dead.' Reuben though? Kipperlilly can still use Reuben - use him to proselytize and spread the word of Ankarna - so not only does he need to be aware of the details around Lucy's death and all the Ankarna stuff, he also can't know the Ratgrinders killed her. He clearly still thinks highly of her - I think that vomitting the 'blood' in his dream was Fig breaking the Devil's Honey barrier in his mind.

Which is why, as Gertie told us, Kipperlilly ordered two bottles RIGHT after break. They need to keep him in line with the plan.

Jace changed the records in the school so that Yolanda never realized that she switched gods from Ruvina, and used his own spells to fuck with the name and hidden it (clearly there's a difference between the rune on the paper, which no one could read, and the translated version in Fallinel which has been sat for a thousand plus years), and did the same to the body. Yolanda, trusting him as Vice Principal, tells him about her fears, he goes with her into the woods and then instantly kills her in the clearing.

The plan is to take Ankarna from the Dead/Undead form (but now conscious thanks to their efforts) back to being actually alive via a Cleric believing in her.

Of course, in the mean time they need a Cleric. Make him expendable, but still useful. Make the cleric be a Priest of Helio or Sol so that they can kill him, immediately planeshift into Heaven behind him, eliminate his soul and then Oisin and Kipperlilly sneak into the office and bring back the Goddess. In fact, I bet they're gonna fling Buddy Dawn's soul into the void and using the death of a cleric of Helio, Ankarna will return. Killing Buddy was the act of Conquest they needed.

Rueben is obviously in doubt, trying to get help from his Uncle (skipping Forest Animal Murdering and asking for a ride home?), but I think Oisin is in it for the power. Mary Anne is a Kobold, and I think Oisin's Grandma is the dragon her tribe is sworn to so she just follows him around.

I don't think any part of Jace Stardiamond's section of the plan, the bit about the return of Ankarna, has anything to do with Kipperlilly running for preisdent or their quest against the bad kids. Killing Buddy in the Last Stand was just a conveint series of events but as Brennan said in the adventuring party - it looked like killing Buddy was already on the table. That wasn't a freak out move, it was on the agenda, she just wasn't there yet.

For the Presidency, unlike the Ankarna plot where only Oisin and Stardiamond are conspirators, all the Rat Grinders are in on it because they all seem to have personal beef. Except for Oisin and Mary Anne, who seem to be fine with the Bad Kids as a whole, just still on Kipperlilly's team for the race.

For that, Kipperlilly frames the Loams for embezzling, pocketing the money, and then using Ankarna's nightmare king form to kill the Loams when it looked like she was being to thoroughly looked at. Now she has money for both Schemes and the Campaign. Stardiamond tells Reuben to move Frostfaire to the Thistlepsing Tree (just to fuck with the ground and, if I had to guess, be the reason why Gorgug has been getting angrier and angrier as the season's gone on. Specifically, he seemed to really 'Get Mad!' when fighting Grix).

Kipperlilly knows about Buddy's grandpa so after Yolanda gets killed by Jace, Kipperlilly tells Buddy to ask his grandpa to apply while Jace puts the question to Mazey (a decision he should've made himself, to be honest). Bobby's here just to get Kristen expelled, and when they they decided to take the last stand, she grabbed a Rage Shard, strapped it on an arrow, and aimed it at the proctor.

I think that, as the ultimate 'fuck the bad kids' move, the Proctor would go angry and huge and the party would be forced to kill him. Not only does he die, but they were the ones who killed him which would MURDER their grade. I would guess.

But Kristen saw her, and could prove that another student directly interfered with the test (via undergoing a zone of truth). So instead, Kipperlilly indirectly interferes and puts the 'lets kill Buddy' part of the Main Plan into effect. Probably would have happened anyways (they're in a pocket dimension alone, great time to kill a man tbh)

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #dimension 20 #kipperlilly copperkettle #oisin #fantasy high spoilers

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utilitycaster · 2 days

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@rowzeoli replied to your post “Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias...”:

I rarely go on tumblr so sorry if you see me spamming your posts tonight, but I really enjoy your perspective and thoughts! I think I'm the journalist you're referencing in regards to the Fantasy High Junior Year article and unfortunately 1) journalists only get access to interview subjects at very specific junctions (usually press day before the series goes out or halfway through) 2) most publications are honestly Going Through It and cutting freelance rates and just not paying to cover AP

So I'll be totally honest - I post on Tumblr because I assume it is far more unlikely to be seen and so I can vent freely (hence the fairly harsh tone of the criticism in the original post), but I guess this is a chance to clarify. I don't expect anything to change, nor do I expect you to respond; indeed, I wouldn't blame you if you block me after this. But if readership is down (and who knows? maybe it's not and I'm the outlier), this may be illuminating.

The issue with your specific article - which I brought up relatively tangential to the larger point of "at this point I think Polygon's AP/TTRPG coverage is a waste of time to read" isn't really that it's only an early look at the series; and because Fantasy High Junior Year is at this time ongoing, it's honestly entirely valid that there hasn't been a follow-up. It's, well, the "surface-level and factually wrong" issue.

Dimension 20 was by no means the pioneer of remote recording as you claim in your article; that had long been the default of smaller recorded AP shows well before pandemic lockdown for the simple reason that if you're not a media company the overhead is very low - no need to have a dedicated space or even cameras beyond decent laptops. Burrow's End's puppetry? Critical Role's Call of Cthulhu: Shadow of the Crystal Palace did shadow puppets in 2019. They had diagetic audio on the main campaign as early as 2016. I don't even like Kollok, but that's had complex set design since 2019. Meanwhile premise of the article is yet another rehash of Polygon's "Dimension 20 is CHANGING THE GAME" constant drumbeat, while your actual pull quotes from Brennan Lee Mulligan are him musing that this is simply an entry in an ancient tradition of storytelling and isn't, in fact, terribly novel. The interview fails utterly to back up your point and indeed contradicts it; I get that the timeline was probably tight but this is outright incorrect in multiple places and your argument isn't just unsupported; it's outright dismissed by the very person you claim is proving it. If the premise came before the interview, it needed to be reworked afterwards, and if it came after the interview…I'm not sure what to say, really.

This isn't your article, and I'm putting it here to illustrate that this has been a pattern for Polygon's AP coverage specifically. This article about Worlds Beyond Number is perhaps my favorite example of "this is not serious journalism:" Rusty Quill Gaming, The Adventure Zone, Friends at the Table, and NADDPod are all theater of the mind long-running podcasts (RQG's campaign lasted a whopping 7 years of real time) and that's just off the top of my head; the idea of a long-running edited audio podcast being novel is laughable. RQG and TAZ both started at level 1; I'm not personally familiar with Friends at the Table. I don't actually think starting at level 1 vs. 2 is terribly important in storytelling in the first place other than that a few D&D classes pick their subclass at L2 and that choice can be narratively relevant, which it was in TAZ; however, some classes pick a subclass at L3 so you can still achieve this with a level 2 start (as Critical Role's second campaign does). Both Emily Axford of NADDPod and Griffin McElroy of TAZ have long been composing their own music and RQG is heavily sound designed. These are not obscure pulls, either; these are some of the more well-known names in the space.

At this point, Polygon AP/TTRPG articles - by multiple different writers - simply feel like madlibs: "(actual play show) is groundbreaking in its (thing that other shows have been doing for 5+ years); I especially liked (visual effect) and (incorrect understanding of TTRPG mechanics)."

The people I allude to in the post you responded to as having egregiously uncharitable and sanctimonious takes on Daggerheart (within, again, hours of its publication) are a frequent Polygon contributor and a Rascal editor and they further my mistrust of those publications: There is this constant insistence that everything they like be "groundbreaking" and "innovating" and they will claim this even when it's demonstrably not the case, as the above examples note. As Mulligan says in your article "it’s important to keep new artists with new experiences and backgrounds flowing in," and yet by focusing intensely on high production values (difficult for smaller indie upstarts to have) and by incorrectly claiming that a well-established media company within the space like D20 invented a number of things it flat out did not, this journalism is actively, if unintentionally, working against that goal. As I put it elsewhere, Polygon's bizarre pedestaling of Dimension 20 and simultaneous putdowns of Critical Role (which turn into wild contortions when D20 mainstays like Mulligan or Aabria Iyengar collaborate with CR; for that matter others besides me have observed that Polygon acts like Spenser Starke is two different people, the genius who created Alice is Missing and the knuckle-dragging moron who put out Candela Obscura and Daggerheart) coupled with the obsession with production values over story has the whiff of claiming they're the champion of the little guy for sticking it to the 700 lb gorilla in the space and then focusing on 500 lb gorillas while making it impossible for smaller monkeys to compete because most brand new shows without the name recognition of someone like Mulligan involved can't exactly hire Rick Perry to do their models or Taylor Moore to do sound design.

I suppose a good way to put this, since I've run into this in many spaces, not just AP/TTRPG or even journalism, is that bias on its own in a subjective medium isn't inherently bad; but if something is so nakedly biased against something I love, I will, naturally, turn to it with a far more critical eye, and if its arguments are not ironclad I'm going to start noticing every structural issue in every argument and every tiny mistake. Sure, as a fan of Critical Role, and as someone who feels that Kollok was nigh-unwatchable and that Burrow's End was promising in parts but deeply flawed, I disagreed with Polygon's nonstop mud-slinging towards the former and glowing, verging on fawning reviews of the latter two. But that's not entirely damning on its own; I do get that not everyone will like Critical Role and that some people will love Kollok or Burrow's End for valid reasons. What's damning is the journalism itself is riddled with factual errors and the analysis is so weak that to call the arguments a flimsy house of cards would be generous. The opposite is also true; if Polygon's lead editor were out here repeatedly misspelling the name of one of the main characters in Worlds Beyond Number (note: this has since been corrected) but the articles had compelling arguments, even ones I disagreed with, I'd be far more forgiving, but as is? It's offering me absolutely nothing: it's poorly researched, it's poorly structured, it's poorly written, it's poorly copy-edited, and it shits on things I like seemingly just for clicks. I'm done giving clicks.

I am deeply sympathetic to the pressures facing digital journalism and media and the arts in general; as someone who is fortunate enough not to personally face those pressures and has the income to be a patron, I would love to help in my small way (and I do, at least, financially support a number of the AP shows I love). But the quality of some of this journalism is truly so bad that I can't bring myself to support the institutions putting it out; it's "dead dove do not eat" until such time as someone whose analysis and opinions I do trust cites them (or, perhaps, until there is a sea change of lead editorship). I know that this won't help the crunch, and may make it worse, but I just can't because the quality is so poor. I don't have a good solution to how to write about something that takes a lot of time to watch and process and about which the articles pay very little in return, but the current strategy of bouncing between uninformed provocateur and utter sycophant depending on the show and creators; of drooling over such surface features as shiny production and falsely claiming everything is "groundbreaking" while getting the most basic facts wrong has driven me away.

#rowzeoli #i'm leaving this rebloggable but other people...try to be respectful i will turn off reblogs if need be.#long post

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lokiisdaddyblog · 2 days

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𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 |

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦.

*Probably will make this a multi part thing but idk I’ll see how it goes🙃*

You finished plaiting the last braid in your hair before continuing your peaceful stroll along the rushing river in the queens gardens.

You had been welcomed most warmly that dawn by the king and queen of Asgard, but as the princes were on a mission fighting in another realm, you were still yet to meet them.

As a light elf, you had the most radiant spirit and connected deeply with nature. You were a princess, yes, but that wasn’t always what you prioritised. You generally never dressed like one and you never cared for the politics of it all. One of the main reasons you were here now, on Asgard.

After your mother's passing, your father believed that if you spent time around this royal family, that ‘perhaps you’ll learn the proper manners of a princess’, as he had said.

You scoff at the memory. It may have only be recent, but, life hasn't been the same since your mother died. Your father is cold and distant. Life is lonely and dull.

Hour pass as you remain in the gardens, surrounded by animals and natural beauty. So lost in your own train of thought, you don’t even notice that someone has entered your presence.

“I do not believe that maids are allowed unaccompanied in the queens gardens.” The smooth voice snaps your from your trance and you turn to look over your shoulder.

You recognise the man standing before you immediately. Maid...really? Prince Loki; tall, dark, and handsome as ever. Does he really not realise who you are?

You cock your head to the side. “Oh, right. My apologies…my prince.” You bow your head slightly and he raises a brow as you stifle a giggle and run off back to the palace entrance. You decide to reside in your room reading, until dinner time.

----

"My boys. You both look rather dashing." Frigga's soft voice floats throughout the currently empty dining hall.

"Why thank you, mother." Thor replies as Loki smiles silently in response.

"So where is this.. princess.. that is going to be staying with us?" Loki asks, trying his best to hide his intrigue. His current thoughts were solely that of the princess and mysterious 'maid' he had found in the garden earlier that day that he had never seen before.

"Coming right now, and be nice to her, please. She has just lost her mother. She is delicate." Her voice is soft and there's a sadness to it. Your mother was, after all, one of Frigga's closest friends.

The guards open the doors to the dining hall. Meekly, you walk in and bow in front of the royal family before you.

"Rise, child." Odin's voice booms and you flinch slightly.

Frigga smiles fondly and gestures for you to come over. You slowly approach, curls in your hair bouncing slightly as you hold your beautiful, long, flowing dress.

"How are you, my dear?" Frigga asks as she holds your hands in hers.

You hesitate. "I'm okay, your highness."

"Good. And please, call me Frigga." She chuckles. "Here, meet my sons. Thor, and Loki." She smiles proudly.

As you reach a hand out to shake, you realise you shouldn't. Your father would whip your hand if you did that. Not that he's there, but you won't risk it this time. You settle on a curtsy.

"Welcome to Asgard, princess. We are more than happy to have you." Thor shouts kindly. You smile in return, feeling an odd sense of comfort from the large man.

You look over, making eye contact with Loki. He stares back at you, stunned, eyeing you up and down with a curious smirk. You blush and try not to laugh.

"It would seem that Prince Loki and I have actually met already."

---

The room bustled with people, eating their various foods and chatting about nothing. Small talk this, small talk that. Empty conversations will be the death of you.

"So, princess Y/n. How is your father faring?" A rough voice from beside you asks.

You groan internally.

"Quite well. Thank you." You reply through gritted teeth. You smile and silently stand there in hopes that unfamiliar man will leave. But, he doesn't.

"And how is life on Asgard treating you?" Another question you can roll your eyes at.

"Well considering I've been here barely a day, how about I get back to you on that one another time." You throw him a sour smile, handing him your drink before walking away curtly.

You find yourself standing alone in the corner as the night pursues. It seems that gossip travels rather fast here on Asgard as people were already whispering and casting judging glances. Perhaps you were too unnecessarily rude to the man. Well, who cares, maybe it means you can go home quicker.

"You do not care for dancing?" A husky voice asks from behind you.

"You do not care for approaching people like a normal person?" You don't need to turn around to know who it is.

He shrugs, no standing beside you. "I am not a normal person. It is simply part of my charm."

"Well that I sure do not care for." You cross your arms. How much longer until this is over.

"Ouch. You itch so badly to get out of here." He says quietly as he looks out onto the sea of people, who are starting to stare even more so now that you're talking to their prince.

"Don't you?" You scoff. "Look. I've been here a day and already all these people hate me."

"They do not hate you. They simply...misunderstand you, I suppose. Take your honesty as hostility." He shrugs.

"I said one thing! Just the one!" You raise one finger to emphasise and he chuckles in amusement.

"You will get over it, and I assure you, they will too." He tells you, as if he has experienced this before too.

Your eyes widen as you come to a shocking realisation. "If this news gets back to my father he is going to kill me."

Loki scoffs. "Please, with something this tame? I doubt it, princess."

His use of the words princess makes your stomach flip but you ignore the feeling and mumble incoherently back to him.

"I need to shower and organise my room with all my stuff." You say, changing the subject as you anxiously bite your nails, counting down the seconds till you can leave already.

"You do know there is maids for that, right?" He replies smugly, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Yes.. but you do know I'm not one of them, right?"

----

#loki #loki x reader #marvel #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki oneshot #loki laufesyon x reader #loki fluff #loki smut #loki angst #loki x y/n #loki x princess reader #loki story

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tamlinweek · 2 days

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To all the participants of Tamlin Week:

First of all, HI!! WE LOVE YOU!!! yall are so creative and dedicated, we are so proud of this corner of our fandom! As event mods, we feel like one of the most important things we can do during a fandom event is be supportive. Me (Reyna) and Lady Midnight will be doing what we can, by reblogging every post onto our personal blogs and added comments/kudos to all the fics.

Unfortunately, we cannot pause real life, not even during Tamlin Week. Both of us have had to work quite a bit this week. I especially have had NO TIME since I've been at sea most of the week, and am starting a long, strenuous field day tomorrow (I set my alarm for 4:30 AM tomorrow with hatred in my heart). This means that Lady Midnight has been handling every single submission to make sure it is reblogged to the Tamlin Week blog in a timely manner, with tags. Therefore, she also hasn't had much time to focus on actually enjoying the submissions.

All this to say, we appreciate you so much, even if that appreciation isn't being shown right now! We want to make sure we have time to really sit down and enjoy those fics and leave thoughtful comments, because you deserve them! We want time to really appreciate the beautiful art, moodboards, and poetry that you have spent the time making. That means that it'll probably take several weeks for us to go through every submission.

We have 2 requests at this point. One, please be patient with us, and know that your work brings us so much joy, and we will be able to share that with you soon. And two, please help us pick up the slack by supporting your fellow creators. Even a simple reblog with a heart emoji in the tags can mean everything to a creator, especially since we're all making content for an unpopular character. Leave replies, comments, send messages, write funny tags, etc, to make up for us mods not being able to right now.

You are all amazing, and let Tamlin Week continue!

#tamlin #tamlin week #idek if our absence has been noted #BUT we had Sunday off and both of us could be super active and since then have been working!!!#anyway we love u all so so so so much #HUGS AND KISSES #and give each other hugs and kisses!

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 2 days

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Part vi number 18 and 8 👀

8. “Kiss me, I can’t wait any longer.” 18. “It’s so hot when you talk like that.”

it's been a long night. the mission was a success and the team is celebrating - using a chunk of the stolen cash to fill their stomachs with food and good wine at the vacant building they renovated into their hideout.

it's been a long night, and it's made even longer by how ian hasn't had a single moment alone with mickey since the heist started. since mickey had to concentrate on doing his thing with the wires and ian had to put on his tux, blending in with the gala's diamonds and furs. pretending to be someone you're not is hard in a room full of rich snobs. it's even harder in a room full of people who think they know you from top to bottom.

because they don't. these people are his family - they have been for years - but they don't know what makes ian tick. what's most important to him. the way his heart pulses and fingers itch for the man across the table from him.

his team is his family, but they don't know that he and mickey are fucking.

they can't. it would complicate too much. they'd start going off about how emotions like that can fuck with the plan. how their entire mission can go haywire if something happened to one of them. and they're right. it would. ian would scrap an entire weeks-long pursuit the fucking second he saw something happen to mickey. he cares too much. he's a fucking liability.

so they don't tell them. they keep their nights together to themselves. keep how long they've been doing this a secret. act normal and cordial and friendly on the outside, even when one shared look across the table sends pulses of want and desire through ian so powerful that he has to swallow down another gulp of wine, their heavy gaze never leaving each other once.

because it's been a long night. he hasn't had a chance to touch mickey. to reward him for a job well done in his own way. to look him over and smooth him out and exist with him, away from the others. alone. together.

the team is his family, but they don't know that he told mickey he's in love with him last night. they have no idea how powerful the wave of delight in his soul was when mickey said it back to him. to them, they're just ian and mickey. two members of the team who have gone quiet now, content with stealing glances across the table with heavy, wine-drunk eyes.

they can't know. and ian is two seconds away from reaching across the table and pulling mickey's hand into his own, so he forces himself to get up, stepping away from the table.

he disappears into one of the bedrooms - the one with the big floor to ceiling windows that look out into the abandoned building's courtyard. it's quiet here. peaceful. he can hear exactly how hard his pulse is thumping in his eardrums while everyone else carries on in the main room.

because he's good at slipping away without causing attention to it. it's how he joined the team in the first place. but there's one person who tracked his entire exit. he's fucking banking on it.

behind him, the door shuts. the lock clicks.

and when ian turns, the warmth that was being pushed down all night blooms fully and heavily in his chest.

mickey takes him in just as hungrily, the grin that's pulling the corner of his mouth so good that ian needs to chase after it. "kiss me," mickey murmurs, already stepping toward him on the momentum they've been building across the table, "can't wait any fuckin' longer."

it's got ian's heart soaring. has something almost animalistic rumbling in his chest as he steps forward too, fucking finally, because christ... "it's so fucking hot when you talk like that."

and when they meet in the middle of the room, it's with hands grabbing - feeling - running over ian's shoulders and holding mickey's face and they pull themselves together so tightly that ian can taste blood as their mouths clash.

but it's what he's been craving all night. it's what keeps him going, mickey just as hungry for it as he starts walking him backward until ian's back is pressed against the window.

they probably shouldn't be doing this here. not right now, at least. they're celebrating in the other room, after all.

but nothing is more important to ian than this man. this moment. this thing that they've made with each other.

and soon, it will be too big to hide.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#absolutely god-tier quote combo anon - you really nailed this #gallavich #shameless #ray writes #im impossibly late for work so i shan't reread. which means i hope there's nothing glaring in this hehe #smutty one-liners

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chosetherose · 3 hours

Note

"The Alchemy" = Karlie's POV of how she's going to take Taylor from Travis?

"I haven't come around in so long

But I'm making a comeback to where I belong"

Karlie showing up at the Eras Tour! Taylor didn't spend long enough with either of the beards for "so long" to make any sense as being about them. How do you make a comeback when you're barely a thing to begin with? Karlie's comeback was headline news though.

"So when I touch down

Call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team

Ditch the clowns, get the crown"

Her football fan baby ("fly like a jet stream") is touching down and coming to sweep away the understudies, users, narcissists and clowns. King of my Heart coming to reclaim her crown! We can only hope 🙏

"Cause the sign on your heart says it's still reserved for me"

Taylor can rewrite history all she wants, but Tratty was never a thing and no-one with a brain can buy the idea that he was the love of her life ten years ago, while Kissgate was happening right in front of him. Peak Kaylor era. When we all saw with our own eyes how she looked at Karlie! But, no, it was Matty all along! Sure, Jan.

Meanwhile, even the "anyone but Karlie" Gaylors who hate her can't deny Taylor has been writing songs about Karlie for a decade now. Even they think she's not over her. So who "still" has Taylor's heart and could make a comeback? Mmhmm.

"I circled you on a map"

Flashback to Taylor highlighting Kaylor-related towns on the weather map in the Lavender Haze music video. Uh-huh.

"Who are we to fight the alchemy?"

Alchemy is the process of turning things into gold. Are we really going to sit here and pretend this isn't Ms Gold Rush, Ms "it's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold"? Are we really going to pretend Karlie hasn't been gold coded since the beginning? But no! This is about Travis! Totally! Does your blindfold fit snugly enough, babe, or do you want me to tighten it some more for you? 🙄

"Hey, what if I told you we're cool

That child's play back in school

Is forgiven under my rule?"

The child's play is the bearding. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. It's getting so old to never grow up. Karlie is saying it all means nothing.

"These blokes warm the benches

We've been on a winning streak"

Her British beards have just been keeping Karlie's seat warm. While she and Taylor have privately been on a winning streak.

(Seriously, the construction of this song makes no sense if you believe it's about Travis. How could she have been "on a winning streak" with him, while "these blokes" were present-tense warming the benches? Or are we supposed to believe they're just waiting on the sidelines for Taylor to get back with one of them? Even though things are so great with 🚜 and she's said multiple times she doesn't want that? So . . . how is any of this working, exactly? What benches are they warming? Are we SURE the "we" is Travis? Hmm?)

"He jokes it's heroin but this time with an e"

People are so distracted by this "dig at Matty" they can't see what's right in front of their faces. Heroin with an e = heroine. As in, the female hero of a story. The joke is that the one to "save" Taylor won't be any of these jokers dressing up as kings. It's a woman. A HEROINE. Not a hero.

And then we get a football metaphor everyone will assume is about Travis, even though Karlie's love of football is well-documented. Do we really think Travis cares more about the beard he's made his meal ticket than he does about winning a trophy? Yeah, right. The days of wasted celebration with no Taylor in sight really give that impression. The thirst traps he was liking on Instagram while "dating" Taylor really show he only has eyes for her. Totally.

Meanwhile we have a million songs where Taylor tells us all her obviously-Karlie lover ever wanted was her.

I can't see The Alchemy any other way than as a Karlie comeback song. Bring it home, Karlie! We're all rooting for you! Go! Fight! Win! 🏆

Wow, Anon! I love this take! Lots of food for thought.

#CTRask

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 day

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WIBTA if I refused to hang out with my ex even though we are trying to still be friends?

🐟 so I can find it

So I (27M) met my ex (26M) when I had just turned 18 and he was 17 - we met through a mutual friend, and ended up in a long-distance relationship. Both of us had mental health issues that put a lot of strain on the relationship over the course of the several years we were together, and eventually the spark we had kind of inevitably died - when we broke up, it was pretty much mutual. We were young when we met and had realized as we grew older that we wanted different things out of life. We had a couple of disagreements over the years, but for the most part there was no animosity, although I will admit I had let some resentment build up (I rarely expressed this out loud - we struggled to communicate feelings like that).

Both of us ended up getting into new relationships pretty soon after - for me, I ended up finding a new partner (25M) whom I've been with ever since (it's been a number of years and we are very committed by this point - there is no possibility I would choose my ex over him). Meanwhile, my ex went through a series of short relationships and I'm uncertain of his current status - he hasn't mentioned his partner in a while, and I know he's had a couple of breakups after me. I do know he started using drugs/alcohol after we broke up despite previously being very straight-laced and never having anything stronger than caffeine (more on that later).

When my partner and I first got together, it was very soon after my ex and I broke things off, and I had a bit of a bad habit of badmouthing him. I said some pretty uncharitable things - nothing that was untrue per se, but things that were very much interpreted from my point of view and not his e.g. attributing certain things to malice that were probably just incompetence, neglecting to mention ways I had behaved badly, etc. i had just ended my longest ever relationship - in retrospect, obviously I was feeling some type of way and trying to work through it as best I could. But because of all that, my partner knows these stories about my ex and has formed his own opinions - I try not to talk about him so much anymore, but I can tell my partner does not like the idea of him and does not trust him. I don't think it's jealousy either, because I've explained that I will never go back to my ex and I'm certain he believes me - I think he's just gotten the impression that my ex is a threat somehow (he's not, tbh) and probably won't ever see it any other way. He's fine with me still talking to him and I'm fully honest about that - he respects my autonomy, he just has no interest in meeting the guy.

So anyway, my ex and I didn't talk very much for a while after the breakup because I wanted to put some distance between us because my feelings were pretty raw over it for a while, but in the last year or so that's been changing as he's been messaging me a lot more - 90% of the time, it's him initiating, although I do occasionally send him memes or whatever if it's something that reminds me of him.

The messages have been increasing in frequency and now I get them almost daily where I used to only get a few per month before. I respond to him and I'm friendly and casual in my responses, as I have no desire to be mean or inauthentic, but I'm getting the vibe that he's trying to start being friends in person again and that he wants to meet up. Last week he asked me if I had contact with an old friend I had bought drugs from once (I do not and have not had a contact for that drug in years, but it sounded like he was trying to coordinate a sesh if I had said yes).

This week, he asked me about my plans for the upcoming solar eclipse. My family and I and my partner made plans many months in advance to go to a particular city in the path of the totality, which I explained. Then my ex drops that he was considering visiting a very nearby neighboring city (like ~30min driving distance) at the same time but didn't have firm plans, I guess maybe trying to coordinate a meetup or something (I don't know where he expects to be able to book a hotel this late, but that's not my problem honestly so I didn't bother to ask). He is very into astronomy so maybe he was just sharing his interests, but I'm kind of scared he's going to ask me to hang out or view the eclipse together, or worse, ask if we have spare room at our hotel or something. Knowing him, it's possible he will make a request like this very last minute, maybe even the weekend of the eclipse, because he has probably not actually bothered to check if any hotel/motel has any vacancies (given how things were around the 2017 eclipse I would be completely shocked if anywhere has any availability at all).

This would extremely harsh my vibe. to be blunt, I really just don't want my ex to be there because I feel like I wouldn't have a good time if he was - this is probably the last time I'll ever see an eclipse in my lifetime and I don't want weird tension between my ex, my partner, and my parents (I have a strained relationship with my dad and have gone low-contact with him since moving out - it is already going to be hard to deal with, and my ex being there would make it exponentially worse because my dad and ex got along extremely well and I know my dad would use his presence as ammunition).

I feel kind of bad though, and I don't want to just turn him away and refuse for no reason, because he's done nothing wrong and I know he's really looking forward to seeing the eclipse, and that he values the time we spent together and wants to be able to be friends with me. And I still want to be friends with him too, honestly, because he has a lot in common with me and I know him extremely well - I just don't really see a way that his presence is compatible with my life right now, particularly at this time. He will want an explanation if I try to refuse to see him, too, and I just don't have any good ones.

TL;DR ex is trying to come back into my life and might ask to hang out at an event I've been looking forward to for months. I have nothing against being friends with the ex, in fact I have told him before that I do value his friendship, but don't want his presence to mess up my time. WIBTA if I refused to see him if he asks?

#aita #am i the asshole

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its-chelisey-stuff · 1 day

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romcom hasn't been romcoming this hard since... GOSH I don't know?!! when was the last time I saw a romcom in kdramaland that hooked me this much? that made me think everything was perfect??? 2019?? wth?

sdfghjkl!!!! the way this scene was so random at first and now it has so much depth and heartbreak! ugh!!

The thing about romcoms in kdramas, that I LOVE, is that a really good one is able to give you equal measures of romance, heart, comedy and good drama/angst. That, paired up with good acting, AMAZING chemistry and just the right touch of fantasy is pretty much a *chef's kiss*. Is just everything you could ask for but were afraid to hope for, does that make sense??

HAHAHAHAHA I love that she is basically a liar and a terrible one. None of what she says makes sense (tbh telling the truth also wouldn't lol) but I love that he tries to believe her or wants to, very much.

Also, it's hilarious that her superpower is freezing time to avoid revealing spoilers from the future and she makes use of it in the most unhinged way:

GOLD! lmao

And with Hyeyoon on board, I knew this project was on good hands, that girl is seriously underrated in Korea (hopefully not anymore after this) but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about WooSeok. Like, don't get me wrong, that man is GORGEOUS but the only good thing of him that I actually loved was a movie. BUT after this, wow, is like all that experience he has, finally leveled up because he is actually meeting Hyeyoon's standards of acting here, and I'm so proud and relieved. I didn't know he had it in him.

Like, excuse me? Why do you have me tearing up at the start of the episode? And omg, to think he stayed away because she was angry and he felt so guilty, even though he saved her.

I'm genuinely optimistic about the outcome of this. We all know they will get their happy ending, but I'm actually hopeful that the acting, writing and pacing will remain this good till the end. What a joy to watch a wonderful romcom with the vibes of the good old classic romcoms from the early 2010's. We're so back, baby!

I am very curious as to why she went back to the present the first time. What is the trigger? We know, because Sol figured it out, that the watch only works at midnight and she probably only has 2 chances left to change SunJae's future as long as that creepy CEO walks around his school i don't think so But what ends a trip back into the past? Is it shock from Sol? Sunjae? Something happening that's definitely off-track like TaeSun asking her to be his gf? Aarrrghh so many questions.

#lovely runner #kdrama #kim hyeyoon #byeon woo seok #please god take all their suffering and pain and give it to eunseong from queen of tears lol

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canonicallyobserving911 · 2 days

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WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON FanFic: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 27 will be posted soon.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Currently 26 chapters completed: 1M Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

I'm excited to finish writing Chapter 27 because at the end of Chapter 26, while Buck was sleeping, he made a sound that Eddie hadn't heard before. He immediately sat up in bed and called Eddie's name but he was in a daze and to Eddie, he appeared to be still dreaming but since his eyes were open, he started talking to him to get his attention.

They spent the majority of the day before in the hospital after Buck collapsed in Eddie's arms and suffered a bradycardia event of epic proportions. He was unconscious and unresponsive after he received a package that was delivered to the firehouse while they were in Europe. Once he opened it and read the letter, he reached the part where it stated someone died and it reminded him of his own death and it triggered the event.

He had an MRI, EKG and an ultrasound to confirm what prompted the two events. After the results were returned, Dr. Salazar discharged him with a Holter monitor that he has to wear for 48-hours so she can check to make sure his heart hasn't suffered any long-term effects from the lightning strike. Currently, they're home alone since Chris is still at a sleepover.

___________

Here's a snippet from Chapter 27 of Eddie trying to console his husband after he woke up in a state of sheer horrifying terror.

___________

The sounds escaping Buck’s lips through his cries are filled with pain and suffering and Eddie recognizes it because he remembers it’s how he sounded when he started destroying every piece of furniture in his bedroom with a baseball bat almost two years ago.

“I love you.” Eddie admits. Then he starts speaking Italian. “Ti amo, amore mio.” [“I love you, my love.”]

“ED—DIE? PLEASE DON’T—DON’T LET GO! OK?”

“NEVER AMORE MIO! I’LL NEVER LET GO OF YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE MY HEART, YOU’RE MY SOUL, YOU’RE MY EVERY—THING!”

As he continues holding on to his husband, he comforts him as they cry about the fact that Buck died last year. He tries to compose himself several times but the weight and the magnitude of seeing Buck hanging from the aerial is a picture he can’t get out of his mind. He reminds himself that they both can’t lose it because one of them needs to be coherent just in case Buck becomes unresponsive again like he did while they were at the hospital yesterday.

Even through their brokenness, he keeps talking to his husband.

“You’re alive my love.”

“You’re in the present with me and it’s January 3, 2024.”

“It’s been almost ten months since that night but you’re here with me and I’ll never let you go.”

“We’re going to die on the same day at the same time in 50 or 60 years from now.”

Buck’s cries are getting louder as he continues to feel every ounce of grief he’s been avoiding since last year. And when his Holter monitor starts beeping, Eddie knows that sound means one of two things, either Buck’s heart is beating too fast or too slow. Neither option is good because they’re both detrimental and they can both lead to Buck’s death if they aren’t resolved quickly. If it’s beating too slowly again, he’s experiencing another bradycardia event and if it drops below 30 bpm, his heart could stop beating and that will lead to him dying. If his heart is beating too fast, then he’s experiencing a tachycardia event which means he could have a heart attack if it’s not lowered to a level of 100 bpm.

In a soft and calm but stern voice, he calls, “Evan, my love! Can you hear me?”

He’s still crying but he nods his head while it’s lying on top of Eddie’s shoulder.

With the alarm still blaring, he says, “Amore mio, I need you to you to listen to me. We have to get you calm so your heart rate will stabilize.”

Buck’s trying, he really is but he still feels that tug at the back of his head trying to take him under but he’s fighting to stay alert so he can remain responsive and conscious.

“Shh... my love. I need you to listen to me and I also need you to breathe with me too. Can you still hear me?”

He opens his mouth and he tries to speak but it takes several seconds for him to inhale enough air into his lungs so can respond.

Eddie doesn’t let go he just keeps holding onto him with their chests pressed together.

Is Buck going to suffer another bradycardia event? 👀

Or could he suffer from tachycardia this time? 🤷🏽‍♀️

___________

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it. But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago. They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial. But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories. Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie. It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Buck and Eddie are once again faced with their greatest fear of losing each other but this time it could be permanent and if it is, then they won’t be able to spend the rest of their lives together.

Chapter 27 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-26 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

Chapter 27 will be posted soon.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #buddie fanfic #ao3 fanfic #911 fanfic #911 abc #911 on abc #Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #Hiatus Reading #“I'm still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”#Chapter 27 will be posted soon.#Buddie multi-chapter fanfic

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softspeirs · 11 hours

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The Major and The Nurse (5): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: I was in an angsty mood when I wrote this. I don't know why -- but have no fear. This is the Happy Ending Factory, after all.

Five. Hearts on Sleeves.

The conversation at the officer’s mess over breakfast is all about word that’s finally come back from somewhere in Germany via the girls in the Red Cross hut about many of the guys from The 100th.

It had well and truly broken Grace's heart to hear that so many of their best pilots and crew members were imprisoned, but at least they were alive.

For the crews, it reinvigorates their will to keep fighting.

Major Rosenthal has never needed more reasons to keep up the fight, but even he feels an extra sense of responsibility knowing that winning the war is what it'll take for their friends to come home.

He hasn't seen Grace in almost a week. First, she was ill, and while he wanted to come visit her, he had two missions around the same time, and since she's recovered, she's been so busy at the hospital that neither of them have had a chance to see the other.

He stopped pretending a long time ago that he didn't have feelings for her that went beyond friendship, beyond the bond between comrades. He feels it especially in her absence, a weight that's settled in between his ribs; an ache that he can't soothe on his own.

It's terrifying -- for one, while he thinks and hopes that she feels even a fraction of the way he does, he doesn't know for sure, and he sure as hell isn't going to jeopardize what they do have.

One of the newer crews took heavy fire on their last mission, and while no one was killed, three of the crew were seriously wounded. Rosie makes a point to check on the newest guys and try to keep their spirits up. He hopes he'll have a chance to check on Grace too, but he suspects she's had her hands full.

The hospital is quiet when he arrives. Late afternoon light streams through the windows, the golden beams casting everything in an ethereal glow. Most men are asleep, aside from one or two reading, writing letters home, or having quiet conversation.

Grace stops short when she sees him enter - she wonders if he realizes how much space he takes up. Not just because of his height, but the way he carries himself. He dominates every room he comes into, even though Grace is sure he'd be mortified if she ever pointed it out to him.

His face softens in a smile when his gaze lands on her, and Grace has to fight herself not to break out into a grin right back. She has been told by a few people that she and Rosie are not subtle, but she doesn't really care anymore. After everything they've lost, as long as it doesn't cost her her job, she's going to take what little happiness she can hang on to for as long as she can.

"Afternoon, Major." She says, her body swaying toward him almost without her control. He still has that soft, soft look on his face. It makes something in her gut tighten.

"I heard congratulations are in order, Captain."

She waves a hand dismissively. "You know I don't care about any of that."

"Still worth celebrating. If you're free...?" He looks incredibly boyish in the moment. She feels so fond of him she almost can't stand it.

"My shift is done in an hour."

He digs into his inside pocket and pulls out a battered paperback. "I can wait. If that's okay."

She nods, and when he gets settled in a chair near the nurse's station, she busies herself finishing up her tasks as quickly as possible. She knows she's not imagining it when she feels his eyes on her more often than not.

Rosie reads the same paragraph four times until he gives up entirely. He just feels so relaxed when he's with Grace - he wants to bask in it a little while before real life comes crashing back down at the first sign of a red light flicking on or a siren starts wailing.

He can tell she's noticed by the way she fidgets like she does when there's attention on her. It makes him smile, but he tries to bite it back. He's content to just observe her, and if she notices, well, then she notices.

It's not long before she gathers her jacket and small handbag and comes to collect him. "Ready?" She asks, and he nods, following her out at a respectable, yet still close distance. "Where to?" She asks, though she mostly already knows.

"Thought we could swing by the mess and get something wrapped up if that's alright."

She nods, and they walk the next few minutes in comfortable silence, the late afternoon sun warm on their backs. He holds the door for her when they arrive, and they're not surprised to find the place mostly empty.

He nods at Jack Kidd when they pass the table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of the Air Exec who looks like he hasn't slept in days. Grace frowns, and stops for a moment.

"Major," she says, and her tone is a warning and an accusation all wrapped up in one word.

"I'm eating early today so I can get some shut-eye, Grace." He says, and she nods in satisfaction. "The last time you yelled at me was enough."

"I didn't yell-"

"No, but you wanted to." He says, eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Eat your supper, Major Kidd. Then off to bed."

"Yes ma'am." He smiles around his fork, shaking his head. Rosie watches on in amusement.

"Duty never ends," Grace says, sighing with a chuckle.

"I think you like being a mother hen." Rosie counters, both of them picking up a tray from the long table at the end of the hall.

"Not all the time. I wish some of these grown men would learn how to take care of themselves."

Rosie puts his hands up as if to say I'm innocent, and Grace laughs. Together, they gather up their meals, and sweet-talk the kitchen staff into providing a couple paper bags to haul their loot in. Once packed up, Rosie leads her towards the hardstand where they often find themselves this time of day.

His plane is a beauty during golden hour. Looking over at Grace, he thinks the same thing of her.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks around a mouthful of a sandwich.

She makes a face at him talking with food in his mouth, but nods. "Much. I needed the sleep, even if it came with a cough and a three-day headache."

Rosie hums in sympathy. "And then you were right back in it."

She nods. "The three new crews - had a rough go of it. But you already know about that." She swallows heavily. "The fighting is getting worse. They know something big is coming." She pauses, meeting Rosie's eyes. "How are you holding up?"

He shrugs, shaking his head with a nonchalant look. "I'm fine."

Grace narrows her eyes. "You're fine." She repeats, flat.

"I mean-- yeah. Yes. The invasion will be soon, that's no secret. We're all just waiting to find out when it is."

"And you don't have any kind of..."

"What, doubts?" He interrupts. His tone is sharp in a way she has rarely heard it, maybe only for when he first got back from Coombe House. "I don't... no. I don't have doubts."

"That's not how I meant it, I know you don't doubt yourself or your crew. I just meant... you're not nervous at all? This could be-- this could be massive."

"It will be massive. The biggest mission any of us have flown." He set down his food a long time ago - the wrapper fluttering gently in the breeze between them. An awkward silence settles between them and Rosie hates it. Hates that he can't tell what she's thinking, what she's really trying to ask him.

"And you're not..." Grace gestures vaguely. "I just-- I know you're the best, Rosie." He has to stop himself from reacting at her easily-given praise, her words meaning more to him than she realizes. "I just worry that you keep everything so close to the vest. I worry it's going to come out when you're not expecting it."

"You think I'm going to crack?" His voice is incredulous. He knows this isn't personal. This is Grace, who cares about him, who, at this point in his life and in these circumstances, knows him better than just about anyone else. But it feels like an accusation.

And the way he's felt this last week without her company, without her steady presence... it starts to feel like the distance between them has been intentional, and that hurts.

"No!" She's quick to rebut. "You're getting me all wrong." Her eyes are pleading, but they're frustrated too. "I just-- you reupped without a thought--" he tries to interrupt, but she stops him. "No, I know you thought about it, obviously, I just mean that you did it so quickly, and I just want you to be honest about how you're feeling about it all. You've been here over a year now, Rosie. I can't be imagining the toll that can take."

"I'm doing my job. I just-- I have to lead them, Grace. There's no time for-- for processing any of it." He knows his tone is bordering on irritated, and he tries to tamp it down.

He thinks of the Doctor at the flak house. The one who couldn't understand why Rosie was so annoyed at the prospect of playing croquet for five days when he should have been back in the seat. He never thought that he'd be having an extremely similar conversation with Grace of all people.

"But you won't even be honest with me!" She protests, scooting closer until their knees touch. "And if you won't talk to me, I know you're not talking to anyone else who can help. Which makes me think you're just keeping everything you feel inside. It's not sustainable."

Their proximity makes his head feel fuzzy, like it always does, but he shakes his head, still frustrated at the turn their conversation has taken. "I'm fine, Grace. I'll say it a hundred times if that's what it's going to take to get you to believe me. There's no point in reliving my missions or-- or trying to think back on stuff from months ago. I already do that in interrogation, and that's enough." He can hear his accent thickening with irritation, and he hates himself for directing it at her, even if he's not looking her in the eyes as he speaks.

Her hand on the side of his face startles him. His ice blue gaze meets her dark eyes, and he could lose himself here, he knows he could. He feels soothed in an instant. He has a wild urge to tell her with actions what he can't quite get out of his mouth.

"You know why I was sick for a week?" She asks. "I hadn't slept for two nights before I came down with a fever so bad I was dizzy with it. I hadn't been feeling well for days, but had pushed myself because I thought of everyone else besides myself. Finally my body made me listen." She shrugs. "That's why I was worried about Jack, and that's why I worry about you. Because one day you might not be able to keep it in, and you may make a mistake."

His larger hand covers the one still pressed gently to his face. He leans into her touch, incapable of letting the moment pass without appreciating her warmth. "I need you to trust me." He says, words tinged with hurt and irritation. "Please."

"It has nothing to do with trust." She says. Tone mild, but he can read the flicker of annoyance in her features that they're not seeing eye-to-eye on this. Her hand falls away from his face. Right away he feels bereft.

"Grace--" He tries, but he can see the moment has passed.

She stands, brushing off her jumpsuit. "I'm not angry with you and I hope you're not angry with me." Her smile is sad, and it makes him want to reach for her, to pull her back down and go back to two hours ago when she had been so close he could smell the clean, sharp scent of her shampoo and see the flecks of color in her eyes. "A long time ago I told you if one day you didn't come back, it would well and truly break my heart, Major Rosenthal." She shrugs. "I meant it then, and I can't even begin to tell you now how I would--" She stops, inhaling a shaky breath. "I just want you to look after yourself. I know how smart, how capable, how talented you are. But so were Majors Egan and Cleven, and look where they ended up. I can't bear the thought of you in a place like that, or worse."

"I'm not going to go down."

"You don't know that for sure. I just want you to be safe. And that means up here too." He looks up at her, head at knee level, as she reaches down and taps his forehead gently, alluding to trying to keep his mind healthy. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He's speechless as he watches her leave him. He doesn't think, aside from his parents and sister, that he's ever had someone care about him the way Grace does. It scares him, and it makes him defensive, because he knows deep down she's right.

He won't ever agree with her that he needs to bare his soul to her or another doctor or anyone else about what he's seen and what he's survived, but he does know that when he's up the air, she's down here, waiting and powerless to do anything to help him.

On the ground, all she can do is make sure he's in fighting shape, and - he thinks of her touch to his forehead - he wants to go after her. He wants to catch up to her, pull her into his arms, and tell her that he's confident he'll come back every time because there's just no universe in which he leaves her behind. It's been true for a long time, but she should know it.

He wants her to know it.

Instead, he lets her go. Resolves to let them both cool off, find her tomorrow, and make sure she knows he understands. They've been dancing around each other for so long that he knows he owes her that bit of honesty at least.

It's time he makes her some promises, if she'll still hear them.

#softspeirs mota fanfiction #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie x grace #oc: grace fleming #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfiction #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic

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