#everyone has already drawn their own version of this but . here's Mine

[cinnamon-phrog]

Saw you like one of my posts, glad you're still here even if it's just another day. Had me scared shitless worried

I had a lot I wanted to say but my laptop froze and reset again. And for the past few days I've had an awful headache and it's only now began to subside.

I've been coming on to try to reply to my friends because a staff member at my housing told me it's best I do so the sooner the better and I didn't want to worry people even though I already have, a lot.

I feel much safer now, although due to my situation and the staff at my housing not being able to leave the house, and my 'outreach support' worker being weird with what days she's free she'll ask me what day I personally want before tsking when I say for example Monday and say 'ooooooh I can't do Monday. How about all the way to Thursday' like girl you ASKED come ON.]

I've been feeling really tired despite getting eight or nine hours sleep and staying in all week. But I'm slowly getting less so the further I try to stop feeling so awful.

In my original version of this reply I wrote about everyone who hurt me. Without naming names. Because ever since I took matters into my own hands and found the courage to tell my old school and social worker what my foster carer was doing to me I've had this rage.

This feeling that these people have stolen something from me and I want to get it back by telling people what they've all done. And I'll finally get all those petty thoughts out because they've been stewing in me and I can only let them go if I write them down. I'll get embarrassed later but that's the point. If I cringe I move on. If people agree with me I feel closure. If people read it it I'll feel seen. Advice on how to move on is welcomed but not obligatory.

In getting removed from my foster carer who told me there was no way I could cross a street without holding her hand or being near her or ever have my own autonomy to going to places I want to go to on my own and living my own life almost as I want a piece of me I didn't know was taken has been given back.

But I can't get back at my school bullies. The 'friends' in school who ignored me and belittled me for their own gratification. I can't make the boys and girls who groped me simply ungrope me. Neither do I want them to experience what they did to me out of karma because it's a sick thought.

The proshit who thinks I give a shit can never take back what they said or undraw all the things they've drawn. For pretending to be my friend and giving me advice and telling me the world won't hurt me only to tell me they were a nonce all along. How can I have faith in the world when the only one to give me that faith turned out to be a monster. Who lashes out when they're not given attention AND when they're given attention. And stalks my account because now they claim to s/elfship with the trio and have stolen my 🚦🏠 tag [I have screenshots, posts, blogs, names, the lot. That can be another post if you're curious and I'm fully recovered]

No gatekeeper will ever apologise for standing 'by' me only to vaguepost that they hate people with similar or the same headcanons as me. In fact they're praised for it by even people I considered to be friends of mine.

My ex will never apologise for writing out my name in their public blog, after I'd been more or less a therapist to them. After they told me they had something 'special' planned only for it to be a huge google doc full of reasons why I made them want to kill themselves and how awful a person I am. They will never apologise because they didn't know I had no experience with these sorts of things.

I broke up with them because not only was I afraid of being bombarded with so much love was because I'd never been shown it. How I was always treated like a thing to be put away by 'friends' and my foster 'family' and so I learned to be soft. Malleable for you, for them. But I didn't want to be.

They'll never apologise for drawing Duck upset because I'm so so awful. For writing things like 'You could have had a second chance if you weren't like this, I'm poly, you and my current partner could have shared me' which is. Bonkers and petty.

My foster carer is the only person I've gotten closure from, despite her never saying sorry. For making me stay locked in my room all day, for making fun of my weight despite it being her fault, making me bathe once a week, now I bathe as regularly as I can. For calling me names and blaming me for things out of my control or for something I never did just to have someone to scream at. She'd come up with a disgusting reason and force me to write it down and her own reason why I wanted to do what she thought I did.

I am constantly told I shouldn't assume. Fuck you. I can't control that. I lived in a house where I had to walk on eggshells, in a school where I'd be humiliated but I was never allowed to retaliate. How dare you.

How dare my ex, and this one petty gatekeeping popular bitch use them taking their own life against me and blame me for how I feel. I can tell you right now you've flipped tis on it's head. But I'm living because unlike you I won't leave my friends and I actually bothered to take that step and make them.

How dare this ONE person on here pretend to be one of their own cronies and tell me I'll make them kill themselves because I had the audacity to ask if they were the same person who said if people see a fictional character as anything other than a foetus to get out of the d/hmis fandom. I still didn't get a no 'Hannah Montana' and I meant nothing as maliciously as you perceived me to be. I left college because of you. You broke my last bit of perseverance and now I have nothing. The last thing I wanted to be was someone who would want to drive someone to suicide and in saying that to me you've become someone who both proshit and I agree is a bitch. Despite me not agreeing with anything else and hating you both.

I'm told to let it go but I can't.

But if they all said sorry, and meant it, I still wouldn't believe any of them, and I wouldn't forgive them.

I've never had an apology, never a sincere one. But I always apologise, I always mean it. I've always had this earnest sincerity but nearly everyone I've tried to stand up against has such an ironic, pitiful outlook to the point where I nearly adopted it.

They all see themselves either so highly they're gods, how everything they do is so Out There and incredible [I'd almost envy them all if I wasn't feeling so sorry for them, and it didn't impair their ability to actually make friends instead of stewing in their own sour air in their own little bubbles] or so lowly it circles back to being egocentric. So afraid to change, made a step, even just a little one, out of their comfort zones.

And it's bled into me. But I refuse it.

I can't talk to my friends because I'm afraid they're like all of you. But I know they're not. But then again, I always assume the worst, don't I. Always. But can't you assume why?

But I'll try to talk more. Keep reaching out to me, a beg you. It helps so much and I am so grateful to have met such kind people despite all the awful people I've mentioned I've met.

I met my amazing R/ed D/warf mutuals not long after my ex gave me that glorified bible of every reason why I am awful for having left them. I felt horrible but you guys taught me I wasn't. II am not. And thanks to that I became more comfortable, I became more active in the s//elfship community because I gained more experience with people, getting me more friends. I'm still not as outgoing as I wish I could be but I promise you all that I love you /plat.

Even though people like me, I still don't like me. But it's still better than thinking nobody likes me.

I still have my hope and sincerity, and in writing this forb the past two or three hours I've felt so much better.

#let me know if anything needs to be tagged #i've been writing for hours jesus fucking christ #i am back. i plan to stay. i won't say such awful things again #it's good to finally say what i've wanted to say to all those people who've hurt me out in the open #instead of just hidden in tags or vaguely mentioned #in fact. i don't think i'll mention it again #until i'm finally fully over it all

[ddarker-dreams]

Hey!!

First of all, I‘m in love with your work and overall everything you write- like, you‘re reallyyy talented! I started following you because of Scara but now I‘m kinda here for Chrollo tbh.

I just wanted to ask, what’s your favorite yandere? Like out of all characters you have ever written, who do you like writing the most?

(So sorry if someone already asked that)

Have a great day!!

AA thank you so very much <33 please have a lovely day as well!!!

let's see... my favorite yandere to write for... this'll come as a surprise to no one, but i'd have to say it's chrollo. there are times when i'm writing a yandere version of a character that i'm sweating because you kinda have to stretch your suspension of disbelief. however, it's perfectly plausible imo for chrollo to act the way he does as a yandere. we already see his distorted morality in the canon material.

also, since i've been writing for him for like... what would it be... seven ish years now? i think i have a decent grasp of his character. i feel more confident exploring certain concepts with him because of that. a lot of my yan chrollo stories have a dialogical format, where it's essentially him and his darling debating their various viewpoints.

chrollo's beliefs are the complete antithesis of mine. i love people, believe that everyone has inherent value/worth, and loathe the thought of trampling over others to get something you want. i feel i learn more about myself whenever i write chrollo, because i want him to make solid points too, which basically entails me forcing myself to think in a way that's completely against my nature. it's a really interesting experience. this is what i referring to in that post from a while back when i said 'my goal when i write characters like chrollo is to hurt my feelings with their dialogue.' 😭

i just think he's neat. he has this quiet charisma, this undeniable pull that you can't help but feel drawn in by. yet at the same time, he genuinely loves and cares for his fellow troupe members (founding members especially), to the point he considers his own survival unimportant if it means the spider lives on. there's so much to explore with him it's unreal.

#chrollo brainrot #sweet asks #answered #Anonymous

[icedteaandoldlace]

A couple years ago, my family and friends had a PowerPoint party where everyone put together a presentation and delivered it before the rest of the group. Mine was on Snowbarry and the fandom drama wrapped up in it, and though I initially wasn’t going to let it see the light of day on the Internet, because I didn’t want a bunch of angry shippers in my DMs, I’ve decided to go ahead and post it (‘cause tbh the worst luck I’ve had in this fandom has been with fellow Westallen shippers).

Quick disclaimer: I love all of these characters and their canon dynamics with each other, so I’m not bashing any of them here. I’m also not saying that anyone is wrong for liking the idea of Barry and Caitlin as a couple, or that shipping them inherently makes someone a bad person. But I am speaking critically about both the ship itself and a good chunk of its fandom (see: reading them for filth), and some of my points will be fact-based and some will be opinion-based. I myself do not ship Snowbarry, and that fact is made very obvious in this post, so bear that in mind if you wish to continue reading.

Also, the images are not sized to Tumblr’s dimensions, so I recommend clicking/tapping to see them more clearly.

As an additional side note, I made this presentation before the major Killer Frost retcon, so Frost is referenced as a part of Caitlin and not as a full-fledged individual separate from her. I’m also disregarding the last two seasons entirely because 8 was trash and I didn’t even bother with 9.

Now on to the presentation.

Just what is Snowbarry, you may ask? Snowbarry is the ship name for Caitlin Snow and Barry Allen, two characters from The Flash, usually shipped in opposition to Westallen (Barry Allen and Iris West), which is the main couple in Flash canon.

If you are not familiar with the characters on this show, take a moment to look at the chart above. Pretty self-explanatory. Got everyone’s names and relationship to each other? Good.

Moving on.

So right off the bat, let’s get into how this ship got its start. Barry Allen is, of course, a comic book character first, and it was already canon in the comics that the love of his life was Iris West, so naturally it followed that she would be the person he’d end up with in the TV adaptation. One noticeable difference between the Iris from the comics and the Iris from the TV show is that Iris in the comics was drawn as a white woman, and Iris in the TV show is played by Candice Patton, a black woman. This caused a big stir among Flash fans before the show even aired, because the TV version of Iris “isn’t comic accurate”.

Neither is Barry, a hunky blond man, now being portrayed by brown-haired beanpole, Grant Gustin, but that detail didn’t get nearly as much or nearly as dramatic of backlash. Most fans are very pleased with Grant’s portrayal of Barry, and some even think he should play him in the DC movie universe. But Candice’s casting was received with an inordinate amount of vitriol, with many fans going so far as to bombard Candice with death threats and other forms of harassment, and people began calling for Caitlin to be Barry’s main love interest since before the first episode even aired.

It’s worth mentioning that Caitlin wasn’t even a Flash character before the TV series; she’s a character from the Firestorm comics who was brought in for this adaptation specifically, so there was no basis to say that she would be a better fit for Barry when there was no preexisting relationship between them in the comics universe. (Comic accurate whom?)

So basically, Snowbarry as a romantic ship was born out of racism, if you didn’t pick up on that already. They became a popular ship, even among people who had liked Iris in the comics, and had their own ship name before anyone had even seen them share screen time. All because they didn’t want to see Barry in love with a black woman.

Now that you know how the ship originated, let’s take a look at some fan arguments for how it maintained its popularity after the show started airing. While there are some Snowbarry shippers out there who will state outright that they don’t like Iris because she’s black, most of them have the sense to not want to be thought of as racist, and have defenses for why they prefer Snowbarry to Westallen.

I have encountered a handful of Snowbarry shippers whose claims are genuine, and who even like Iris/Westallen, or even ship all three of them as a polycule. The majority of Snowbarry fans, though, dislike (if not outright hate) Iris, and claim that their reason for preferring Snowbarry is simply that it’s a better relationship, and/or that Caitlin is simply a better character.

A common argument in defense of this preference is that Barry has more chemistry with Caitlin than he has with Iris. I’ve often heard it said that chemistry is subjective, but it’s hard to believe that Barry and Caitlin have such great chemistry--or even that the people who say they do feel it with conviction--when the Snowbarry fandom relies so heavily on photoshop.

If Barry and Caitlin had such outstanding chemistry, it would show in their scenes together, and it would be easier to find un-manipulated images of them looking like a couple.

Furthermore, if Barry and Iris had such poor (or nonexistent) chemistry, slapping Caitlin’s image over Iris’s wouldn’t make it look like Barry was in love with her. If Barry and Iris were so lacking in chemistry, their scenes together would not be a desirable template to make Snowbarry manips out of.

As a bonus, here’s some shots of Caitlin with her main canon love interest, Ronnie. Ronnie is absent for the majority of season 1, and dead for the entire rest of the series, but he is hands-down the person Caitlin has the biggest case of heart-eyes for, as well as the person she has the most passionate kisses with.

On to the next pro-Snowbarry/anti-Westallen argument, which is that Barry and Iris’s relationship is incestuous. Because as is the age-old fandom philosophy, if you don’t have a good reason to take the moral high ground, make one up.

Do Barry and Iris share DNA? No. This alone makes their relationship non-incestuous, but even when you get into the particulars, their getting together is still...not weird or bad at all.

Did Barry and Iris grow up in the same house? Yes. Starting at age eleven. At which point they already knew each other as friends, and Barry had already developed a crush on her, and then had to deal with moving in with the girl he liked. Because he had no choice.

Are Barry and Iris legally siblings? Technically unconfirmed, but most likely no. Iris does refer to them as “kind of like brother and sister” in the pilot episode, but in the same sentence, she also says the words, “we’re not brother and sister”. And Joe has been referred to as Barry’s guardian, adoptive father, and (unless I’m mistaken) foster father, and Barry has also affectionately referred to him as simply his father, and called him “dad” once. Exactly what the legal terms of Joe’s custody of Barry in his childhood were is unclear, but it’s safe to say Barry isn’t his son in the full legal sense of the word, considering he still goes by his biological father’s name and he didn’t run into any legal issues in marrying Iris.

Regardless, it’s Barry’s relationship with Iris that should determine whether or not his getting with her romantically is weird, not his relationship with Joe. If seeing Joe as a father figure makes getting with his child incest, then you could argue that any combination of Team Flash getting together would be incest because Joe is practically everyone’s dad at this point.

There are scenarios in which a romantic relationship between two characters in a situation like Barry and Iris’s would be weird and uncomfy, and come off as practically incest even though it wouldn’t be in a literal sense. Adoptive siblings do count as ~real~ siblings, and a romantic relationship between two unrelated individuals who grew up under the same roof can absolutely have some of the same negative ramifications that such a relationship between blood siblings could have. But Barry and Iris simply do not have the kind of sibling-like relationship dynamic that would cause those kinds of issues, so that plus the fact that there’s no biological relation between them makes the incest argument, frankly, stupid.

Sure, everyone has their own comfort level on matters like this; the most believable/relatable sibling relationship on this show is between two characters with no biological or legal ties to each other, and who met in their twenties (more on them later), and it makes me viscerally uncomfortable to see people ship them as a couple because they’re too much like brother and sister. But I consider myself an expert on siblings--I have six of them myself--and that’s not what Barry and Iris are.

Perhaps the most common claim among Westallen antis is that Iris is a bad person, or at least a bad girlfriend, or maybe even straight up abusive. These claims are...incorrect, and once again we delve into outright making stuff up, when simply blowing small matters out of proportion doesn’t do the trick. No one is perfect, and Iris is no exception. That doesn’t make her a terrible person.

As a person, Iris is brave, caring, ambitious, stubborn, loyal, charismatic, honest, assertive, forgiving, jealous, selfless, and protective, among other things. As Barry’s partner, she is very gentle and supportive, and she is often the only person who can get through to him when he’s either being too hard on himself, or being too single-minded and needs someone to talk some sense into him. They don’t fight often, but when they do, their issues are usually resolved fairly quickly with open and civil communication. Iris shares the responsibility of protecting the city with Barry, despite not having any powers of her own, in addition to finding ways to help people outside of official Flash business. She has her faults, but overall she’s a pretty good and well-rounded person.

The one negative claim against her in this matter to have some degree of credibility is that the individual fan simply finds her annoying. Annoying is a subjective term, so I can’t really argue that someone is wrong for being annoyed by someone I find to be very lovable. There have been moments where I was annoyed with Iris, and I think that Iris is the bee’s knees. There have also been moments where I was annoyed with Caitlin. And with Barry. And even Cisco (and I’ll fight anyone who dares call Cisco annoying).

What this argument against Iris basically boils down to is nitpicking over her being human and thus flawed. Well-written characters should be wrong now and then, and even the most lovable person can be annoying on occasion. But when it comes to Iris, first of all, a lot of the criticism for her is non-factual, and often wildly so. But also, even when it comes to valid critiques of her, there’s a tendency to focus on the negative when her positive traits far outweigh them--yet when the same or even worse negative traits are present in another character, they’re often excused or overlooked.

I’m not going to pretend that Iris stans aren’t guilty of doing the same with other characters out of bias for their fave, too (and boy do they), but by and large, Iris is the one who is disproportionately judged unfairly and subjected to double standards by the fandom.

If you’re just a fandom puritan hellbent on liking only the most unproblematic of characters, then technically Caitlin should be the one getting more flack since she has the longer rap sheet between the two, and Iris has one of the strongest moral compasses on the show.

As for personal preference? Of course, it’s totally possible that someone “just thinks she’s annoying”--but the tendency of black characters (or any non-white character for that matter), women, and especially black women being labeled “annoying” regardless of personality is a little too common to be taken at face value, so I’m automatically suspicious of anyone who calls her annoying, and bases their whole opinion of her on that, instead of recognizing her merits (because if you haven’t guessed, it’s not very plausible that that many people genuinely find her annoying as a person with no underlying prejudices at play).

Now, there are some people who started shipping Snowbarry during season 1 (y’know, after actually seeing the characters in action), because there was actually some groundwork laid for it. Not much, but it’s not nonexistent. Barry had a few love interests before ultimately getting with Iris, and a fleeting romance with Caitlin was also considered, before Grant vetoed that idea in favor of prioritizing what he felt was the more interesting and satisfying relationship, i.e. Westallen.

There were a few hinting comparisons drawn between Barry and Ronnie in early episodes, and a few platonic-but-in-a-heteronormative-way interactions between Barry and Caitlin. One episode in particular more overtly teased the idea of a possible attraction between them that they were too hung up on other people to recognize, but nothing ever came of it (partly because that episode also served to introduce one of Barry’s temporary love interests, Linda). And even the more shippable moments in it came across as mostly one-sided, and more as Caitlin trying to get over Ronnie than as being truly interested in Barry (spoiler alert: it didn’t work).

There have also been moments of light fanservice with no depth, such as the two kisses pictured above, which are two moments that the Snowbarry fandom treasures, and points to as validation of their ship.

The first is of someone who is not Barry, Caitlin just thinks he is in the moment. It is actually Hannibal Bates (aka Everyman), a shapeshifter who is causing trouble around town by committing crimes while impersonating innocent people. He kisses Caitlin to distract her while she’s trying to work on something to negate his powers, and Caitlin is confused and weirded out by his advances. And while one could argue that she started to seem a little into her second kiss with him, if she was, it didn’t last. Regardless, she was clearly not feeling the first one, she was relieved when she learned that it hadn’t really been Barry putting the moves on her, and she got uncomfortable and jumpy later when, for a split second, she thought the real Barry was going to try to kiss her again (so romanticizing that situation isn’t concerning at all).

For the second pictured kiss, Caitlin was in the middle of a mental breakdown/being taken over by someone whose actions she was strongly opposed to when she was stable and in control, and she kissed Barry not because of any feelings she might have toward him, but with the intention of freezing him to death with her ice powers--yup, she was actively trying to kill him with that kiss.

So to review, there are two Snowbarry kissing scenes in canon, and both of them are:

nonconsensual

not done with romantic intent

not really between Barry and Caitlin

Moving on from the Snowbarry fandom’s perspectives, now it’s time to address the elephant in the room that no Snowbarry stan ever wants to address, and that is the matter of the dynamic of O.G. Team Flash.

As indicated at the beginning of this post, Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco are a best friends trio. This kind of friend group is a common occurrence in both fiction and real life, and in the case of fiction at least, it’s common for there to be a favorite friend (which is almost always the main character).

In the case of the two other trios pictured above, for example, Gordo and Miranda have their own friendship independent of their respective relationships with Lizzie, and Shawn and Topanga similarly have their own friendship independent of their relationships with Cory--but in both cases, each friend has a closer relationship with the protagonist (Lizzie and Cory) than they have with each other.

O.G. Team Flash also has one character who is closer with the other two than they are with each other, and is therefore the favorite friend. And in this case, that friend

is Cisco. By a landslide, it is Cisco. It’s obvious in the show-don’t-tell sense that he is the friend they each have the closer bond with, whom they are both more likely to turn to for comfort or advice, and whom they would rather hang out one-on-one with, given the choice between him or each other. But it’s also implied in the way they talk about each other.

Cisco has referred to Barry and Caitlin both as his best friend, independently of each other, and it’s a tough call to say whether he’s closer with one or the other.

Barry has referred to Cisco as his best friend (singular) multiple times, with no mention of Caitlin, but in the times he referred to Caitlin as one of his best friends (plural), he did so in a way that was inclusive of Cisco. He has never called just Caitlin his best friend the way he has with Cisco (or with Iris, before they started dating).

Caitlin as far as I can recall has never used that term in regards to her friendship with either guy, but it’s obvious who she’s closer with. For that matter, Cisco is easily the most consistent and most important person in her life, whether she is aware of that fact or not. (At this point in the original presentation, my mom interjected to ask why Cisco and Caitlin weren’t the big fandom ship then, and I explained that they act like siblings and canonically think of each other as such, so most of the fandom doesn’t ship them romantically because That’s Weird, and their canon platonic relationship is something that most everyone values as is.)

I mean, heck, in The Icicle Cometh--an episode widely regarded as a ~Snowbarry episode~ because of the amount of scenes Barry and Caitlin get together in it--Barry all but says outright, “Cisco cares about you more than I do.” (pictured above)

Seriously, what does that line even mean if it’s not an acknowledgement that he does?

Of course, many Snowbarry shippers don’t like the fact that Cisco is the favorite friend because it blows holes in their ship, so they rationalize that closeness by likening Barry and Caitlin to his parents, which is all kinds of wrong and gross and just, no.

Considered but not included for this slide (because it would be hard to fit and would’ve required providing context for a room of people who don’t watch the show) was a screencap of Barry asking Frost, aka Caitlin’s other side, “How do you convince your best friend not to save your life?” while referring specifically to Cisco, just to further emphasize my point.

And speaking of Barry and Cisco,

I could do a whole PowerPoint presentation dedicated to why they would be better and more sense as a couple than Barry and Caitlin!

(And for the next PowerPoint party I kind of did, plus I’ve made a few other posts related to this subject.)

It just doesn’t make sense to me to make such a big fuss over two people who are clearly each other’s second-favorite friend. Personally, I’d be a little embarrassed to be shouting from the rooftops about how much better Snowbarry is than Westallen, and how Caitlin is the person Barry really loves and should end up with, when they don’t even like each other as much as they like Cisco.

And for my final slide, here’s some screenshots of Snowbarry fans being awful and unhinged + my commentary on them.

It’s not that Snowbarry is an inherently bad ship or entirely baseless--no more so than many of the other fanon ships for this show--but the fact that it’s as mainstream as it is when it has such little canon support and such weak arguments in favor of it reeks of racism, with a dash of hetero-/amatonormativity. The most sincere and non-toxic Snowbarry shippers I’ve seen around tend to be multishippers and/or rare-pair fans, which is where I see Snowbarry as a romantic ship making the most sense. But for such a large number of people to be adamant that the show should change its trajectory to make Caitlin the love of Barry’s life instead of Iris? That’s just bullshit.

#the written version will probably take longer to get through than the version I presented live #anti snowbarry #anti snowbarry fandom #some brief shade at KV as well #The Flash

[arlaina28]

The Girlfriend Experience Chapter 2 Yoongi's Version

Fandom- BTS Relationship- Yoongi|Suga/Reader Rated- General Warnings- None for this chapter

“Hi.” I reply with a smile of my own.

We shake hands and he rubs his neck in a way that seems to be habit when he’s embarrassed or nervous.

“I’ll show you around.” He says softly, leading the way into the building.

He shows me the main lounge room and the kitchen before leading me upstairs.

“This is your room. Mine is right next door.” He tells me, opening the door to my room.

I look around and see I have a bed that is made up already, a wardrobe and a TV. I put my case inside the room and turn to him. He smiles at me again.

“Is it okay?” He asks, rubbing his neck again.

“Yes, thank you.” I smile back at him.

“We’ve just had breakfast and some of us will be downstairs in the studio, others will be in the dance studio. You can come with me or watch the dancers or be by yourself?” He explains, feet shuffling slightly.

“I’d love to watch you work.” I say excitedly.

“It may be boring. Bring a book.” He chuckles, rubbing his neck again.

“Okay.” I chuckle, grabbing my book from my suitcase.

I follow him downstairs to the living area and downstairs again to a basement studio. There are two other band members there already and they both greet me with grins.

“These are two of my brothers. Kim Namjoon and Jung Hoseok.” Yoongi introduces me.

I greet them back nervously, wondering how I’m going to remember everyone’s names.

“You can call me RM.” The taller of the three says and I nod gratefully.

“I’m J-Hope.” The other says and I can’t help but grin back at him as his grin is infectious.

  I sit on a sofa that is on one side of the room and start reading my book as the guys get to work. I can’t concentrate on the story though as I keep finding my eyes drawn to Yoongi. He’s so intense and determined while he is working, whether it’s discussing lyrics, writing them down or trying to work on the right sounds to go with them. He looks completely different from the shy, quiet guy who met me at the door.

Hours pass as they work, occasionally having heated debates about certain parts of the song they’re working on. Suddenly, one of the other members pops their head in, declaring that Jin had sent him to get them for lunch.  RM and J-Hope leave at once but Yoongi stays behind. I stay seated, firstly because I’m not expecting that anyone made me anything and secondly because I want to stay with Yoongi. After a few more minutes he sighs and rubs his face tiredly. He stands up and turns, freezing as he sees me.

“You don’t want lunch?” He asks, tilting his head a little.

“I was waiting for you.” I smile, standing up and stretching.

He blinks at me and I see a faint blush spread over his cheeks before a pleased smile grows on his face. He gestures for me to follow him. We walk into the dining room and I hesitate, a little overwhelmed by all the people and noise.

“Finally! I kept food for you two. It’s not healthy to work so much you miss meals.” One states, looking every part the angry Mother.

“That’s the eldest, Jin. He always Mothers us.” J-Hope laughs, making the rest all laugh.

“Yeah, when he’s not doing bad old man jokes.” The one that came and got us for lunch says.

“That’s Tae.” J-Hope says, laughing as Jin looks annoyed.

“Sit here, next to me.” Yoongi says, gently leading me by the wrist to an empty chair.

He sits next to me and serves me up a bit of everything Jin has made. It tastes delicious and Jin grins happily as I tell him so. I’m soon introduced to everyone and I watch as they all laugh and joke with each other. When we’re done it’s decided that the youngest three must wash up and I follow Yoongi back to the studio.

Another few hours pass with me alternating between reading and just watching Yoongi in amazement. When an alarm sounds I jump but everyone else just looks at Yoongi’s phone where the alarm is coming from.

“Cooking time.” Yoongi sighs, standing up.

“Do you want help?” I ask him, standing up.

“I can do it but you can watch if you want?” He says with a small smile.

“I’d love to.” I grin excitedly.

He chuckles and we walk back to the kitchen. I sit on a stool by the counter as he gets to work. It’s amazing to watch him, slicing and chopping as he cooks. Other members wander in and out, looking at what he’s doing and making comments before disappearing again. Jungkook sticks around longer, really seeming to take in everything Yoongi does. Jungkook is then sent to tell  everyone dinner is ready and I help Jimin to set the table.

We eat dinner, the guys all laughing and joking with each other again. I fight the urge to moan as I taste Yoongi’s cooking, it’s so good. I keep feeling like he’s staring at me but when I look at him he’s looking elsewhere. We all eat and then I insist on doing the washing up, feeling like I should do something productive today. Once I’m done I come out and see the guys are all sitting in the lounge, choosing a movie and drinking while eating snacks. Yoongi motions for me to sit between him and the arm of the sofa, handing me some crisps once I’m seated. He offers me a drink but I decline, not wanting to get drunk.

I can’t help but be very aware of his leg resting against mine as we watch the movie. The older members moan that the movie is hard to watch as the younger ones are being to loud which ends up with everyone having a food fight. I laugh but hide behind Yoongi, not wanting to have food or sauce thrown on me. Yoongi is laughing and trying to shield me.

Eventually RM declares it’s bed time as they have an early start tomorrow so we all head to our rooms. Yoongi walks me to my room, rubbing his neck again as I’m standing at my door.

“I’m right next door if you need anything.” Yoongi smiles at me.

“Thank you.” I smile back at him before kissing his cheek.

“G-goodnight.” He stutters and I walk into my room, ready to sleep.

#bts fic #sfw #yoongi x reader #suga x reader

[dreamhot]

fuchsia supremacy <3

#mcc18 #quackity #dreamwastaken #awesamdude #georgenotfound #dsmp #dream smp #mcyt #mcyt art #lee.art #everyone has already drawn their own version of this but . here's Mine #i lost my original lineart so this is just a sketch now but </3 o well #this isn't very fuchsia but that's cos it would've hurt my eyes

[ynscrazylife]

Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist 

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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#loki x reader #genderfluid loki #loki is genderfluid #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki angst #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki fiction #loki feels #loki friggachild #thor ragnarok #loki reader insert #loki redemption #loki request #loki stans #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu fluff #mcu angst #mcu requests #mcu reader insert #mcu self insert #mcu loki #loki #mcu fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

[cherrycheridarling]

chemistry test | t.h.

tom holland x actress!reader

warnings: fluff and acting..?

summary: you're auditioning for the role of silk in the new marvel film. they've already chosen their spider-man and now it's time to see how much chemistry you two have.

wc: 1.9k

"Hi! I'm here for the Marvel auditions?" you greeted the lady who sat at the front desk.

"Hello! What's your name?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

Nerves were running through your veins at lightning speed. The lady gave you a kind smile and told you to head to room three hundred and sixteen. You returned the smile before heading to the elevators.

Upon entering, you were faced with at least fifteen other women who were also auditioning. All with black locks and brown eyes. You'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly intimidated. Sure, you had done some small films here and there, but looking at the competition now was frightening. A lady came and handed all of you a small script. At least it was a distraction. You spent the entire time reading your lines and trying your hardest to memorize them.

You sat in the waiting room for at least fourty-five minutes before your name was finally called and you were escorted into another space. Once you entered, your eyes were immediately drawn to the long table where the producers, casting crew and directors - who you've met hundreds of times in your previous auditions - were sat. You shook hands and gave greetings, the usual.

"Y/N, meet our new Spider-Man." Kevin gestured to the brunette boy at the front of the room.

He was cute. Dangerously cute. His small curls that laid messily only seemed to add to his appeal.

You smiled and walked over to him, "Hi. I'm Y/N Y/L/N. It's great to meet you." you offered your hand.

He returned the grin before shaking your hand, "Tom Holland. It's a pleasure." you noticed his British accent and couldn't stop yourself from the confused expression that took over your features.

"You're British?"

He nodded with a smile, "That I am, but," he switched to an American accent, "I can turn it off, too."

Your smile grew, impressed by his ability, "That's so cool. I would try a British accent, but I feel like I might offend you."

He laughed with you for a bit, his hand still holding yours. You both noticed the predicament and quickly withdrew your hands. Sheepish grins showed on both your lips.

Joe Russo cleared his throat, "A little background information in case you're not familiar with Cindy Moon's story."

You silently thanked him for this since you were not at all familiar with whatever the character entailed. Only getting small glimpses of her personality and behaviour before you got thrown into the mix of auditions.

"Cindy and Peter went to the same school and got bitten by the same radioactive spider. A man took Cindy and trained her, but also hid her in a bunker when her powers became too much for her to control. Her Silk Sense – which is her version of a Spider Sense – is incredibly powerful. Stronger than Peter's. In this scene, Peter is saving her from the bunker. Understood?" he spoke so quickly that you nearly didn't catch it all, but nevertheless, you nodded your head.

"Got it." you put the script to the side and took off your jacket.

"Now," Kevin spoke, "Remember, this is a chemistry test. So we want to see – not just how compatible your characters are – but you guys, as well."

Your palms began to sweat. You already knew that they were looking for chemistry, but being put on the spot made your anxiety sky rocket. You nodded again in understanding.

"Sounds good." Tom went to the other side of the room, "Good luck." he sent you another frustratingly attractive smile.

You nodded with your own grin, "Thanks, Spidey."

You spotted a small cot beside you and made your way over, laying with your back to Tom. Ready to start the scene.

"Action!"

Before any lines were given, you lifted your head, but kept it facing the wall. As if you were listening for something, waiting for something.

"Spider- Boy? Guy? Spider-something." you spoke to the wall and a second later, Tom's footsteps were heard behind you.

"I prefer Spider-Man." Tom's voice filled your ears as he leaned against the wall. "Nice to meet you, Cindy Moon."

You held a hand to your head, as if a painful migraine had just arrived. "Your presence is causing me pain. Who-" you looked up at the man, recognition dawning on your features, "Peter."

"W-what? N-n-no, no, no. Who's Peter? I'm Spider-Man." he insisted rather poorly. Deepening his voice.

You turned your body around, hanging your legs off of the cot, "I-I feel it. I remember you. Parker from my science class. Left row, three seats behind me. And my math and history. Front row in history. Middle in math. You always had a new backpack every week."

"Eidetic memory." he mumbled under his breath.

"Hm?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"Nothing. Never mind. We can discuss this later. You need to get out of here. And I have come to save you from whatever this place is." he eyed the space with disgust.

You eyed him suspiciously, "Is this some Disney movie? Is there a magical horse drawn carriage waiting outside?"

He showed a boyish grin, "I guess you can call me your knight in red and blue spandex."

You scoffed and stood up, "Okay, Parker. How'd you know I was here?"

"Oh! This awesome dude, Tony Stark, he knows, like, everything! A-and he told me that you were here and sent me on a mission– Which is so cool! But yeah, he told me to come and save you. And that is what I am doing." he jumped up and down like an excited child.

You eyed the space around you, "Wait. M-my powers. I can't control them. I-I mean, I'm trying, b-but it's still—"

"—We can focus on that later! Right now, the richest and sickest guy on the planet is requesting you. C'mon." he grabbed your hand and, as scripted, you both locked eyes immediately.

You tried your best to look like you were falling in love. And as you stared into his deep brown eyes, you found that it wasn't that difficult. He stared back into yours. His hand still wrapped around your fingers. Your free hand travelled to his face, as if you were about to pull his mask up. Resting your palm on his jawline. His other hand that wasn't grasping yours, rested on your hip. A light pressure that nearly sent you into a haze. You both began to lean in and it no longer felt like acting until you squeezed your eyes shut, shook your head and pushed him away rather aggressively.

You put a hand on the wall, drawing heavy breaths in and out, "W-what are you doing to me?" you looked at him through heavy eyelids.

Tom was in a similar position, back against the wall, hand over his chest, "Mister Stark said that m-might h-happen." his head was thrown back against the wall, showing off the expanse of his neck as he swallowed. "Something- Something about our senses causes a strong- How do I say this? I-Intimate attraction between us."

Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing, "A-an attraction? An intimate attraction? To you? Ew."

He pushed himself off the wall, "Glad to see you haven't changed one bit, Moon." he walked away from you, "We really need to get going. You- Oh! I've been wondering this: Where's your webbing?" he looked around as if he was searching for it.

You stuck your hand out and pretended to shoot a string of silk out of your finger and onto the wall. Tom followed your movements with a starstruck expression.

"That's sick! I have to make mine." he frowned, "We got bit by the same fricking spider and yours is in your hands? Let me see!" he came closer and attempted to grab your hand again before you quickly put it behind your back.

"Don't touch me." you spoke slowly, "I-if this attraction is caused by physical touch. Please, do not touch me."

He plastered on a playful smirk, "Oh, it's more than physical, Moon."

You rolled your eyes and stepped away from the wall, "Dream on, Parker. Are we going to this Mister Stank or whatever?" you waved your hand with a limp wrist.

Tom gasped, "He's Iron Man! It's Mister Stark! Stark! Not stank! And you need a suit. Mister Stark has one ready for you at the compound, but you need something to wear on the way there." he looked around for one.

As if it had just dawned on your character that you were finally leaving the bunker, your attitude changed. A smile gracing your lips.

"I think I can do a little something."

You gestured your hands around yourself, pretending to create a suit from your silk. Tom watched with amazement, "Hey, how are you doing that?" he bent down and examined your body from head to toe.

"I had a lot of free time on my hands. Costume on-the-go. You like?" you smirked as you continued your movements.

Tom nodded his head as he came back up to stand beside you, "I could've saved so much time and money by doing that."

You finally completed your gesturing with a grin, "Ta-da! A bit sticky, but I think it'll do." you pretended to stretch around in the costume.

"Okay, let's go, Moon—"

"—Nope. Nuh-uh. When I'm webbed up like this, call me Silk." you smiled triumphantly.

And with that, the scene came to an end. The producers and casting directors all stood and clapped for you and Tom. You smiled widely at how successful it had gone. Before you could even react, Tom pulled you into a hug. Arms wrapped around your waist. Without a second thought, you wrapped yours around his neck with a laugh.

"You were amazing!" Tom praised you with a wide grin.

You couldn't help but to smile, "Thank you! It helps when you have an awesome scene partner."

His cheeks turned a shade of scarlet at your compliment before Anthony Russo spoke, "That was amazing! Thank you, Y/N."

You shook your head, "Thank you for having me."

Joe came and shook your hand, "Expect a call on Monday. Keep your ringer on." he smiled.

"And that wraps up the chemistry tests! Great job, everyone!" Anthony announced as you handed the script back to them and threw your jacket on.

You swung your bag over your shoulder and made your way to the door.

"Wait!" Tom called from behind you.

You stopped in your steps and turned around with a kind smile.

He held out his phone, "Since we're going to be working together, might as well get to know one another." he had a timid grin.

"Don't jinx it, Holland." you let a light chuckle fall from your lips.

He shook his head, "It's not jinxing, it's manifesting and you were by far the best Cindy Moon. You've already got the part." he insisted making you shake your head.

"We'll see about that." you punched in your number and before you could add your name, Tom took his phone back.

"Wait." he quickly typed away.

'silk'

You smiled at the contact name before offering your phone. He typed in his number and took it upon himself to put the name.

'spidey'

"I'll see you around, Y/L/N." he gave you a little salute making you laugh.

You nodded, "Definitely, Holland." you turned around and walked out of the door.

Both of you were so engrossed in your interaction that you didn't notice the producers and casting directors watching from afar. Proud smiles dawning their lips.

They found their Cindy Moon.

#tom holland smut #tom holland x osterfield!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #marvel fan fiction #cindy moon #spider man #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot

[winterscaptain]

the pleasures of the elder.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: the people have spoken, and they all love sean hotchner. this fits after mean it in the joyful future universe, but no context is actually required to enjoy a little bit of sibling rivalry. title comes from jane austen’s quote: “the younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder.” 

words: 3k warnings: language, alcohol use, sex mention, jealous!aaron, perceptive!sean

summary: when he arrives for an impromptu visit, sean knows his brother too well to give him any moment’s peace - especially when it comes to you. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed

A man, both very handsome and vaguely familiar, pushes through the glass doors and walks across the bullpen - a visitor's badge pinned proudly to his leather jacket. You try to place him, but come up short. 

You’re alone, for the time being. Almost everyone is off running some kind of last-minute errand around the federal building - making copies, finishing paperwork, or in a meeting (in Hotch’s case). It’s the last dregs of the day, the sun setting over the river. 

The man stops in front of your desk. “Hi. Are you part of the BAU, or am in the wrong place?” His eyes are bright, roaming over your face with a kind of curious, warm, knowing air. 

You smile at him, and before you can answer -

“Sean!” JJ’s fond tone carries across the bullpen, and she arrives with an armful of cases. 

Sean? 

Oh my god. 

Sean Hotchner. 

“Hey, JJ, right?”

She laughs, sounding a little younger than she is. You can’t blame her. Sean is exceedingly handsome in an entirely different direction than his older brother. And if your memory serves correctly, just a year older than you. “Yeah, that’s right. Good to see you.” He offers her a hand, and she shifts her files to take it. His handshake is firm, and lasts just a moment too long. 

You kick back in your chair, almost inviting him to lean against your desk. “Hotch is in a meeting, if you’re looking for him. He should be out in,” you check your watch, “about five minutes.”

Sean turns back to you, his shockingly blue eyes meeting yours. “Thanks.” He smiles at you again, and you’d be lying if you said your heart was doing normal things in your chest. “Sean Hotchner. I’m Aaron’s - sorry, Hotch’s - little brother.”

Those eyes are dangerous. 

Oh, poor Aaron. 

You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.” 

Just as you suspected moments ago, he takes the initiative and leans against your desk. JJ hovers nearby, a little smile on her face. You watch as she sends a quick text, and puts her phone back on her belt. 

Gotta tell the girls...

“So,” he starts, brisk and businesslike, “you definitely weren’t here during my last visit. What’s your story?”

“Well, if you must know -“

“I must.” He flashes you another smile, and you can only imagine all the trouble he caused growing up. Or, rather, you can imagine all the trouble he would have caused if his brother wasn’t around to bail him out. Five years ago, you would have been drawn into his pretty eyes and wide smile. Now, you can only see a boyish, overt, almost-inelegant version of the understated warmth you love in Aaron. 

You give him a quick rundown of your history: hometown, alma mater, etc. “- I was an academy grad in 2007, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Ah, so not a newbie anymore. And you’ve worked with my brother the whole time?” He almost looks impressed. His glance down to your ringless left hand doesn’t escape your notice.

Oh Sean, if only you knew. 

You nod. “Yeah, I’ve worked under Hotch for five years now.” 

And I’ve worked over him for about three months. Also under him, around him, on the couch, in the kitchen, etc.

Shut up. 

C’mon. It’s funny.

A low whistle leaves him as you bite back a smile. “Damn. I’m so sorry. He’s a real hardass.”

You lean in conspiratorially, and you’re almost cheek-to-cheek as he leans down to listen. “You know, that’s what I hear, but -” 

Penelope bursts through the doors and calls your name, carrying an armful of papers that have absolutely nothing to do with the work going on upstairs. Emily is close behind her, an amused grin on her face. 

Sean leans back so you can finally see her. “Yeah?”

“I have these for - Oh, hi Sean!” She says it like she hasn’t already decided her primary objective is to get his attention. 

“Hey!” He looks over at her, one finger up to stop her in her tracks. “Wait, don’t tell me. Garcia, right?”

“Penelope,” JJ supplies helpfully. 

“That’s right. It’s good to see you again.” He offers her his hand, and she takes it. You’re almost certain he winks at her, and she smiles through the blush rising on her cheeks. 

He really is a heartbreaker, huh?

Aaron must have had his work cut out for him.

Derek rounds the corner and immediately rolls his eyes at the scene before him. Sean has his body angled toward you (in your chair, completely open, with your chin in your hand) while he shakes Penelope’s hand. JJ pretends to do work off at her desk behind yours, but she’s completely tuned into the conversation. Emily’s sitting on her own desk off to the side, watching the whole thing with a certain degree of good humor. 

“Sean, good to see you, man.” Derek walks over and takes Penelope under his arm. It’s almost possessive, and you almost laugh. 

Sean releases Penelope’s hand and takes Derek’s. “Hey, Morgan. How’ve you been?”

Their bro-to-bro catch-up fades into the background as you see Hotch appear on the breezeway by his office. You look up at him before pointedly glancing at Sean beside you. He sighs, then calls, “Sean.”

The man in question turns, and a smile breaks out over his face when he sees his brother. There’s something cocky about it, and you don’t miss the way his body language remains keyed into you as he speaks. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Aaron takes another deep breath and walks down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just come see my big brother at work?”

Aaron’s eyebrow is dubious at best. “What do you need?”

Sean laughs, and it reminds you enough of Aaron’s that it draws a wide smile from you. You find yourself looking fondly up at Sean, seeing more of the resemblance now that they’re beside each other. Aaron’s jaw flexes. You notice. 

Oh, see, now this is fun. 

“I was just in town and figured I’d stop by to see if you were here or out on a case.” Sean glances down at you with another charming smile before looking back at his brother. “I guess I got lucky.” 

He’s just full of those smiles, isn’t he?

JJ jumps in. “We’re actually planning on going out to drinks once we wrap up in a couple of minutes. You’re more than welcome to come.”

While JJ pulls attention elsewhere, you glance up at Hotch and throw him a wink. Hey. Relax. 

His jaw relaxes just a touch, and his lips twitch. As usual, he covers it by crossing his arms over his chest. Don’t be a shit. 

You wet your lips and purse them a little. Nice try. 

He shifts, just a little, raising an eyebrow. You’re really gonna go there?”

Watch this. You toss him a quick smile. “That would be great!” You brush Sean’s sleeve as you unnecessarily reach over him for Penelope. “What do you think, Pen?”

“Oh, we’d love that!” Penelope takes your hand, squeezes it, and looks up at Derek. “Wouldn’t we?”

Derek nods. “We’d love to have you, man. It’ll be good to hear what you’ve been up to in New York.” 

Aaron does his best to suppress his eye roll. You’re lucky he loves you, childish antics and all. 

+++

When you split up into your respective cars, Sean elects to ride with you over his brother. You and Hotch play the role of designated drivers. You’ve fallen into the routine, finding it's much easier to sneak around your coworkers as they get more and more inebriated through the evening. 

Aaron doesn’t look too happy with the ride arrangements, but he lets it slide. Dave and Emily ride with him, while you have Derek, Penelope, and JJ in the car with you and Sean. 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust Sean. 

Logically, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. He woke up this morning to your patient, adoring eyes and your hands playing with his hair. You ate breakfast together (read: sat in his lap with a bowl of cereal while he read his emails), were (almost) late due to your showering arrangement, and only parted after a (very) good kiss in the driveway. 

Still though, he can’t quite shake the insecurities he always felt with his brother. Thirteen years his junior, Sean always seemed to excel in every social pursuit. Music, girls, friends - he was able to settle into things Aaron always struggled with. It was stupid. Aaron was well into his thirties when Sean was in undergrad, but that prickle of envy never seemed to fade. 

Their mother never put the pressure on Sean the way she did on Aaron, and in some ways it made sense. He was a teenager when their father passed, and Sean was hardly a child. More responsibility, more weight, less credit. 

Aaron might be his mom’s pride and joy, even to this day, but Sean will always be her baby. 

Thus, watching Sean easily weasel his way into one of your smiles wore on almost thirty years of tension. 

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Emily asks, tapping Hotch’s shoulder with gentle fingers. Upon making contact, she snorts. “Wow, you’re really tense.” 

Hotch shakes his head and shrugs her off. “I’m alright.” 

It’s Dave’s turn to snort. “No you’re not. You’ve been scowling since Sean showed up.”

“He just has that effect on me. Always has.” 

“C’mon, Aaron.” Dave says. Aaron’s grip on the wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. “He’s just a kid.” 

With a flat deadpan, Aaron replies, “He’s thirty.” 

Emily leans forward on the center console, inserting herself into the conversation. “Hotch, you don’t have anything to worry about. Sean doesn’t have anything on you.” She bumps his shoulder with hers. 

He sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Emily and Dave share a look and a little smile. 

+++

You hop out of the car, swinging your keys in your hand. Hotch is a couple of spots down from you in the parking lot, and your little groups meet up somewhere in the middle. Falling back, you let Derek and Emily lead the way. When they’re all in front of you, Sean included, you press your shoulder to Aaron’s for just a moment. 

“Are you going to be childish?” he says, quietly. 

You suppress a smile. “You’re fun when you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous.” 

“Alright.” Your hand snags his for just a moment, before you jog forward to catch up to the rest of the group. 

“There you are!” Sean’s voice rings out, and you let him tuck you under his arm. You wrap an arm around Sean’s waist and chance a look back to grin at Aaron. 

Gotcha, babe. 

Aaron rolls his eyes so loudly you can see it from twenty feet away. Ridiculous. 

I love you. 

I know. 

+++

You’ve all managed to secure a table. While not incredibly crowded, there are plenty of people around. You planted yourself next to Aaron, and Sean planted himself next to you. The music is just loud enough to encourage dancing without requiring a shout to communicate. 

Derek downed his first drink and led Penelope on the floor within ten minutes of your arrival. 

The round table is crowded, and your pinkie locked in Aaron’s belt loop goes unnoticed. He stretches his arm out behind you to clap Sean’s shoulder, and his fingers quickly trace across your shoulders as he pulls it back. 

“So what have you been up to, Sean?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.” He pulls from the drink in front of him and you’re almost certain it’s just a Coke. 

Sober? Getting there? 

Remind me to get the skinny on that later. 

10-4.

Aaron chuckles darkly. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

Sean shrugs, and leans back, checking out the dance floor. You pull your pinkie from Aaron and put both of your hands on the table. Emily’s looking a little too watchful tonight, and you’d hate to lose your bet. 

Your money is on making it more than six months without alerting the team you’ve been sleeping together. Aaron, always of little faith, took the alternative. 

“Dance with me?” Sean offers you a hand, and you take it. Before you get too far, you lean across Aaron to take another sip of your drink. When you lose your balance (on purpose), Aaron steadies you with a hand around your waist, making sure you’re settled on your feet before you jet off with Sean. 

“Thanks, Hotch!”

He takes a long pull from his beer - his only drink for the evening. Hotch. Gimme a break. 

“Looks like they’re hitting it off great,” JJ says with a laugh. “That works out. I mean, Sean’s about our age, right?”

Don’t remind me. 

“Yep. Turned thirty last month.” Aaron does his best to not sound too bitter. 

JJ smirks at Emily, who turns to smirk at Dave. They don’t know what they don’t know, but they certainly know enough to keep an eye on Aaron for the rest of the evening. 

“That’s in-flight entertainment, baby.” Emily whispers to JJ. “I can’t wait to tell Will. He’s going to die laughing.” 

JJ lets out a peal of laughter. “Absolutely.”

Out on the floor, you’re having way too much fun, sandwiched between Derek and Sean. You pull Penelope between you and Derek, and loop an arm over Sean’s shoulders. 

“So,” he says, his lips close to your ear and his voice barely audible over the music, “how long have you been sleeping with my brother?”

You freeze for just a moment, but it’s a moment too long to recover. “What?”

“Oh, come on. Question in response to a question? That’s like profiling 101.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sean rolls his eyes. “He’s halfway in love with you, if not completely fucked, in case he’s failed to tell you.” He spins you out, and back in so your back is against his chest. 

“We’ve got that covered, yeah.” You twist in his arms. “You gonna do anything about it?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I think it’s pretty funny to get him all worked up, though, don’t you think?” Another bright smile crosses his face and his blue eyes seem to glow in the dim light. 

“Oh, Sean. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” You laugh and reach for him again, but a finger appears in your belt loop. Derek pulls you back toward him by the hip. He’s stupid strong, and you can only tumble back into him with another laugh. 

You’re sweaty, sober, and having way too much fun.  

“Careful, kid. I think Hotchner has a crush.” Derek’s playful jab is warm against your ear as you fall in with him, cheek-to-cheek. 

“What can I say?” You ask. “I’m irresistible.” 

Derek throws you under his arm in a spin and you land back at his chest with the wind knocked out of you. “He’s gotta get in line though.”

“Oh?”

“I think his big brother’s gonna give him a run for his money?” 

That’s enough for you. “Gimme a break, Morgan.” With a laugh, you shove at Derek’s chest and leave the floor. Returning to the table, you sidle up to Aaron again. “Hey, Hotch. Having fun?”

He gives you a weak glare out of the corner of his eye and takes a sip of his beer. “A blast.” 

“Couple more hours, if that, then we’ll be home.” You drop your voice, almost whispering into your glass as you take another sip.

Aaron nods. “Can’t come soon enough.” 

The rest of the team gets more and more sloshed as the evening progresses, and you can get away with a lot more. That said, Sean’s eyes are playful, sober, and more than a little amused. 

“What did my brother say to you?” Hotch murmurs, under his breath. The girls went to the bathroom (and to call Spencer a cab home) while Derek and Sean posted up at the bar, itching for an excuse to give some asshole the what-for. 

You bump his shoulder. “Just that you’re half in love with me, if not already completely fucked.” 

He heaves a sigh. “Can’t catch a break.” You link your pinkie through his belt loop again. “He’s right, though.” 

“How’s that?” You look up at him and you know he can see how much you love him. 

“I’m completely fucked.” 

If any of your team members wonder what’s so fucking funny, they don’t ask. It’s just good to see Hotch smiling again. 

+++

At the end of the night, you drop Sean back off at the hotel on your way home. He’s the last in your car, so he can speak his mind with a certain degree of freedom. You idle in front of the building for a moment, just enjoying the silence.

“Hey.” 

You look over at him. “Yeah?”

“You’d make a great in-law. Just wanted you to know that I’m here for it.” He offers you a hand. You shake it and it almost feels like you’re making some kind of gentleman’s agreement. “Take care of him. He needs it.” 

“Oh, don't worry. I know.”

The smile you share is that of a pair of co-conspirators, of siblings, of friends. 

We’ll do just fine, you and I. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts  @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas  @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @jeor @spencers-hoodrat 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #sean hotchner #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

[duuhrayliegh]

watch your six - part four

pairing: eventual bucky x reader (still a slow burn but it’s getting closer)

warnings: some violence but not really, men being creepy, language (one f bomb), also badly written speaking while crying, aaand i think that’s it

word count: a little over 2300

a/n: aaaah it’s part four babes!!!! the response to this has been so positive i’m in love with y’all!!! <3 <3 <3 i’m still way behind on my classwork and going through a terrible break up but we’re pushing through here

p.s.: my requests are still open if y’all want me to write yall something! aaalso, there’s a bucky short coming tomorrow ;)) <3

series m.list

ray’s m.list

********************************** 

This strange man’s hand was still caressing my hair as he smirked down at me. Running has hands up to the root and then yanking my head upwards to face him directly. “When I speak to you, you look me in the eye, little one.” Not one to show my fear, at least not to men like him, I scoffed. Thick brows shot towards his hairline and a twitch in his jaw as he clenched it. The hold he had in my hair gave him leverage over me. I winced as he lifted his arm to bring my face closer to his. A small whimper escaped the back of my throat, saliva gathering in my mouth. “Don’t test me, little one.” I sneered then spat in his face, the wet substance sticking to his face across his nose and cheek.

Bringing a hand up to his face to swipe the thick liquid from his skin, he glowered as he pulled his palm away. Then several things happened at once. The man forced a harsh breath out and then I was facing the ground with a sting on my left cheek. A gasp left my lips, he just slapped me. Who the hell does he think he is? I shook my head and then leveled my gaze with the man’s. I’m almost positive that my cheek is sporting a bright red handprint that does nothing for my complexion.

“What the hell man? What was that for?” I groaned while attempting to soothe my throbbing cheek on my shoulder. I mean, was it kind of justified? I did just spit in this man's face. No, he totally deserved that. After releasing his grip on my hair, he transferred his hands to the sides of the chair I was chained to. The metal scraping along the concrete floor caused a loud screech to reverberate through the small room.

“I said not to test me, bitch.” the man growled out as he pushed my chair onto the back two legs. I’m starting to think that this is a bit more serious than I originally thought. “Now, you’re going to sit here like a good little bitch and tell me what I want to know.” He retreated only to grab the chair that Suits used. Slamming against the pavement he straddled the chair with his forearms resting on the back.

“How many missions did you participate in?” I released a groan and rotated my head, leaning my head back.

“I already told your friend,” I tilted my head to speak directly to the absolute jerk-wad of a man in front of me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man quirked an eyebrow and clenched his jaw. He rolled his neck, causing the bones in it to crack and then stood. He walked to the other side of the metal table that sat in the middle of the room. The sound of a zipper caused me to snap my head to where he was standing. The tactical vest he was wearing dropped to the metal surface allowing for a loud thunk to flow through the room. He stretched out his shoulders and swung his arms out in front as if he was trying to increase the blood flow. I’m the one who’s literally tied to a freaking chair, what does he need blood flow for? My breathing quickened,  calm down, don’t show any fear. He popped the knuckles of his hands and approached me.

“I’m not a patient man.” He bent at the knees and leaned his face closer to mine. Exhaling into my face, he maintained eye contact with me. “And you’re not acting like the good little girl we both know you oh-so-desperately want to be.” I rolled my eyes at that, apparently that was the wrong thing to do in this man’s face. His left eye twitched as he stared at me.

“Do you think you could back up? Your breath reeks, man.” I have no concern for my own well-being do I? The man’s head tilted to the side and then he wolfed out a gruff laugh. He shifted his weight to land on the heels of his feet and threw his body into the laugh. It was a bit disconcerting to see this man laughing so wholeheartedly in a situation that didn’t feel funny to me. Another blow to the side of my face was issued, however this time he didn’t stop. Several open handed hits were delivered, all the while he was resetting my head back by grasping my chin. My breathing was becoming labored, my chest heaving up and down in a frenzy. He gripped my chin and jerked it upwards so he could stand at his full height to tower over me.

“How many missions did they send you on?” He demanded, increasing his hold on my face surely leaving sickening bruises that would match his fingers perfectly. At some point, tears began running down my red cheeks.

“I don’t kno-ow what you’re talking ab-about!” Tears streaming down my swollen face, “I s-swear to god, I don’t know wh-what you mean!” Choked sobs were preventing me from breathing correctly. The man grabbed my shoulders and shook my body.

“Calm the fuck down and speak clearly.” Small hiccups were escaping my mouth without permission. Why am I letting this guy get to me? What the hell is happening? “How many missions did they send you on?” I broke down again, fat tears leaking out of my eyes.

“I ju-just want to go h-h-home. I s-swear I don’t kno-ow anything!” I shouted in his face. He glowered at me and lifted his hand from my shoulder. My whole body tensed as I readied myself to the impact.

“Johnson.” The door burst open, stopping Johnson from landing another hit. “This is not what you were supposed to be doing.” Suits walked back in the room. Johnson backed down, lowering his hand and turning to the new member in the room. “Sir, I was told to interrogate the prisoner.”

“Yes, Johnson, interrogate her. Not beat her to a pulp.” He gestured wildly with his hand. “If the boss found out you were doing this, he’d have your head on a platter.” Suits took steps closer toward us and Johnson shrunk into himself. “Get out of here before I call him about this.” Johnson nodded quickly and left the room quickly, leaving his tactical vest on the table.

I was still quietly crying while strapped to the metal frame of the chair. Suits approached me while pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. He raised it to my face and I jolted backwards away from his touch. “Easy now, I’m only here to help.” Is he seriously pulling a good cop, bad cop routine on me right now? He wiped my cheeks of the salty remnants, “Now, how can I help you besides that?”

“You co-could let me go h-home.” I tried to say without stuttering, clearly unsuccessful. I didn’t want to show my emotions but really at this point, could it get worse?

“Awe, girly. You know I can’t do that until you tell me what I want to know.” He began to drag the chair next to me, back to the opposite side of the table. This created an obstacle between the two of us, which made me slightly more comfortable knowing he wouldn’t be able to reach me as quickly.

I heaved a sigh, “but I don’t know anything.” My weeping had come to a definite end, making way for frustration. My face heated for a different reason than being struck several times.

“See, this is where we disagree because I know that you’re lying to me.” He shook his finger in my face and I scrunched my brows together, flicking my eyes between his finger and face.

“You’re kidding me. I told you I don’t know about any missions.”

“Oh really? Then who’s Gemini?” He reclined in his chair, looking smug. “Actually, you know more importantly, who is Libra? The whole thing is just fascinating to me.”

“I don’t know what any of that is. I swear to whatever you want me to.”

“Then why do I have this that says you do.” He held up the manila folder that he first walked in with. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Whatever is in there is lying to you.” He cocked his head to the side and flipped the folder open. He removed a photograph from the folder and placed it on the table in front of me. Staring back at me, was a slightly younger version of myself with shorter hair. A large X was drawn across the whole picture and underneath it read the words ‘Agent Libra.’

My eyes widened, “I have never seen that before, in my life.” Suits sighed heavily and then began flipping through the rest of the papers.

“So what is the Svengali?” He threw out another paper and I glanced down at it. It looked like a typed report of some kind. Much of it redacted by thick black lines. The words Libra, Gemini, and Svengali were visible amidst the sea of dark ink.

*****************************

A ping sounded throughout the room causing the screen of the phone to illuminate. A metal hand reached for the thin device.

New mission alert. You’re needed. Meet at the compound.

Great, this is just what Bucky needed to keep him distracted. Sleep never came easy to him so he was spending copious amounts of time trying to catch up on what he missed out on. Steve told him to make a list and Sam kept rambling on about some gay Marvin man? Bucky much prefered to do things on his own. He hasn’t had help for over ninety years, why should he need it now?

Throwing on his leather jacket as he began to leave his apartment, he checked the pockets for the keys to his motorcycle. He also made sure to grab his gloves. Even though T’Challa and Shuri were good enough to give him a new vibranium arm, Bucky still wasn’t too keen on being stared at in public. It was better for everyone if he just kept the arm tucked away as much as he could while around strangers.

He did one last once over of his apartment before locking the door behind him. He jogged down the stairs towards his bike. It definitely was his pride and joy, it was the first thing that he bought with his own money since 1943. His apartment was courtesy of Pepper Potts, no thanks to Tony’s complaining. Tony and Bucky had eventually worked out their differences, to say the least. Tony still hadn’t fully forgiven the Winter Soldier for killing his parents, and neither had Bucky so they were agreeing to disagree.

The ride to the compound from Brooklyn wasn’t a hard one. It gave Bucky time to appreciate the scenery around him. Slowing to a stop at a four way stop just outside of the compound, Bucky dropped his feet to the tarmac below, stabilizing the bike between his legs. He tilted his head back and felt the warm rays of the sun on his face. Warm was something that Bucky was still getting used to, it was easier in Wakanda. He had his own hut, voluntary therapy sessions, and easy-going check ups with Shuri in her lab.

Everything was simpler in Wakanda, but what Bucky missed most from Wakanda was the stability. He didn’t have to worry about missions, or keeping up with Steve, or the crushing guilt that he felt whenever he saw Tony. After parking his bike at the facility, Bucky made his way to the meeting room. Dark wooden tables in an L-shape appeared in his view. Steve and Sam were standing in front of the large monitor that was displaying images of an unknown, yet familiar looking woman.

“Tony, we don’t know if she knows anything.” Natasha said, apparently trying to rationalize with someone else in the room.

“Natasha, we don’t know that she doesn’t not know anything.” Tony shot back, Sam turned slowly and opened his mouth with a confused expression on his face.

“Tony, we aren’t in an episode of FRIENDS. This is serious. We need to decide if this is worth pursuing or not.”

“Wilson, that’s all well and good but we have to acknowledge that this woman could get us our first real break in our search.” Tony explained while taking deep breaths.

“What are we deciding?” Bucky interrupted as he plopped into one of the chairs. Now that Bucky has been given his freedom back, he’s able to display a difference between his mission self and his regular self.

“This woman here,” Steve gestured to the woman on the screen, “is a member of the Virago. It’s an international branch of SHIELD that was believed to be infiltrated by HYRDA years ago.”

“This is the agent code named Libra. Her last mission was with another agent code named Gemini. The mission report has since been lost to us. All we know is that Libra and Gemini were instructed to watch a Svengali safehouse. Apparently something went wrong and only Libra made it out alive.” Tony added, “Which is why we need to find her and see what she knows.” “Tony! There’s no guarantee that she has any knowledge of this mission.” The redhead stressed as she leaned over the table towards the man she was speaking to.

“I think we should find her.” The words left Bucky’s mouth before he could stop them. All motion in the room stopped.

“Um, did the Manchurian Candidate just agree with me?” Tony questioned as the rest of the room remained quiet.

“Look, I’m not necessarily agreeing with you.” Bucky started.

“Nope, can’t take it back.” Tony mused, “Already said it.” Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“Why do you think we should go after her Buck?” Steve inquired. Bucky’s brows furrowed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I think I know her from somewhere.”

#watch your six #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #eventual bucky x reader #female reader insert #Sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n

[pandoraborn]

Characters: Captain Puffy, Tommyinnit Word count: 1510 words Content: death, ghost!Tommy, mentions of abuse, closure, peace

---

As she wanders the ruins of L’Manburg, Puffy stops at every landmark. Even now, there’s wood smoldering, as if unwilling to put out the flames of destruction Dream had caused. She knows now it was Dream, she can understand more what he’d done behind the scenes when no one else was paying attention.

She’s not sure why she’s here or what she’s looking for. There’s nothing here but a few broken chests with cracked and splintered remains of what Tommy used to own. Puffy could try to salvage anything that’s left, but that would also go against the whole purpose of turning this place into a monument.

She leans against the large tower not too far away. This must be the one Tommy jumped off of before running to Techno’s. It’s easy enough to guess that’s what happened, what with Tubbo rushing back in tears to announce Tommy’s death, before sweeping everything under the rug. God, she can’t imagine how he’s feeling now.

Tears spring to her eyes as he pulls away from the tower. It’s pointless to dwell on everything negative here, it’s pointless to even be here. Puffy knows she’s only here to assuage her own guilt over letting Tommy remain in exile, even though she’d tried her best to help him cope.

“I wouldn’t feel too guilty if I were you.”

Puffy almost wants to chalk that up to a hallucination. She wants to pinch herself and tell herself this is a dream, but when she turns toward the water, the ghostly form of Tommy is sitting there, letting his bare feet dangle.

He looks like he did before exile: a healthy teenager with no wear and tear. He’s sitting, with one leg drawn up to his chest and resting his arms on that knee. In his hands is some of Wilbur’s blue, and Tommy’s got a grin on his face.

Most notable is the lack of grey pigment in his skin. He’s very clearly a ghost, but he doesn’t actually look like one.

“Tommy?” Puffy feels like the air had been knocked out of her. “You’re... you’re here?”

“Yeah, isn’t it weird?” He laughs as he tosses blue at her feet. His eyes are shining a bright blue, brighter than they had been in life. “One minute I’m screaming for Sam to let me out, and the next minute I’m sat here, contemplating everything. I’ve come to the conclusion that it sucks.”

Puffy remains silent as she bends down at the knee, gently grabbing at the blue. Trembling fingers grasp at it as she straightens back up, staring at the small object. The silence drags on for too long, so she opts to sit down next to him.

“Tommy-”

“You know, I never understood why Ghostbur kept throwing blue at everyone,” Tommy interrupts. “I thought it was just something he did, y’know? He was weird like that, but I was just so happy to have him around that I accepted it as one of his many annoying quirks. But now I think I understand more. It’s easy to let things go if you don’t have to think about them. I can just take this shit, fill it with my own shit and trauma and whatever, toss it out and move on. It’s like it’s physically gone.”

“You remember?” Puffy watches him through her peripheral vision. He’s manifesting more...whatever it is, watching as it turns to blue. He hands her another one. “Wilbur didn’t remember.”

“I wanted to remember. I wouldn’t be as awesome if I was some fake happy version of myself, would I?”

She has to admit that he’s right.

“Look, I see it all over your face Puffy. I just wanted to tell you to stop feeling guilty, alright? You didn’t do it. You couldn’t have prevented it.”

Tears fill her vision. “It was my job to protect you. You were a child, Tommy. I should have done more for you.”

“I wouldn’t have let you in, you know. You or Sam or anyone who wanted to help. I was responsible for me, I didn’t want anyone’s pity.” He tosses a blue into the water. Puffy watches it slip below the surface. “It’s why Sam Nook was created. If Sam had tried to help directly I would have pushed him away. You don’t have to feel so guilty.”

“But we do, Tommy. We do feel guilty, we do feel responsible. You might feel like it was just you against the world, but we did care.”

“I know. I’m glad you cared; that was more than enough for me. Sometimes that’s all I want from anyone, is just to know.” He offers her a more gentle grin. It’s so Tommy, but it’s also something far wiser than he should have to be. As if he knows what’s waiting for him on the other side.

“Are you going to be around, like Ghostbur?”

“Nah. I’m not giving that green bastard a chance to toy with me. You know he’s going to, so I’m going to take my L and move on with Wilbur. He’s waiting for me, you know.”

Fresh tears spring to her eyes. The idea that Tommy doesn’t want to stick around feels hollow, but she can understand his logic there, too. “So we’ll never see you again?”

“Puffy.” Tommy sighs as he presses a hand to her shoulder. He uses her as stability while getting to his feet. “Sometimes people don’t come back after death, y’know. Schlatt and Wilbur did, but sometimes they just don’t. I don’t have any unfinished business. Mine was bringing Wilbur back, but since I’m not around anymore, there’s really no point to it, is there?”

“Yeah, but your friends-”

“-don’t need me as much as they think they do.” There’s another one of his bright smiles. “This isn’t a sad ending, Pussy. What was it you were saying yesterday? This is a new age, isn’t it? You and Sam, you two are going to lead them somewhere new. Build a statue in my honor, alright? Make it the coolest statue ever. Bigger than anyone else, so the world will know how big of a man I am.”

Puffy laughs. Not just at his words, but his purposeful use of the name ‘Pussy’. Even now, he’s resorting to being obnoxious and crude, and she knows she’s going to miss it. “Tommy, you were the best of all of us.”

“Nah.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Do me one last favor, will you?”

“If it’s to beat up Dream, I’ll gladly take that on.”

“Okay, well two favors then.” Tommy’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Give some blue to Tubbo, will you?” He offers her a few pieces, which she takes carefully, treating them like something extremely fragile, which they are.

“Any message you want me to pass to him?”

“Yeah: ‘it’ll be okay’.”

“That’s it?” Puffy lifts an eyebrow. “No ‘I love you’, no ‘you’ll carry on my legacy’, anything like that?”

“Puffy, Tubbo doesn’t need messages like that. He’s not that deep.” Tommy rolls his eyes. “No, just that it’ll be okay. He’ll be okay without me, he’ll be okay being Tubbo. He’s got Snowchester and shit, he’ll be okay.”

Puffy nods. “I’ll give him the blue and the message then, Tommy. Are you off?”

“Yeah. I can already hear Wilbur screaming at me and calling me a child. I’ve got to go punch his stupid face in, because I’m a big man and I can take him, even dead.”

Puffy laughs at that. Even with tears streaming down her cheeks, she feels a new sort of joy. “Tommy, can I hug you goodbye?”

No words are exchanged here, Tommy silently complies. He feels warm, so she wraps her arms firmly around him, holding him close. The hug is doing wonders; it’s like every inch of sadness is being pulled out of her, like he’s trying his best to help. When he finally pulls away, Puffy still feels light.

“It’ll be okay, Puffy,” Tommy says. He drops more blue at her feet. “Don’t let shit get you down too much, alright? You’re Captain Puffy, and you know better than anyone what needs to be done. But also don’t hesitate to ask for help when you need it.”

With that, he’s gone. Disappeared into some beyond, or afterlife, or wherever he’s going. Puffy doesn’t necessarily know where that might be, but knowing he’s with Wilbur in the end has her feeling better.

Bending down, she picks up the last of the blue. She wonders if when they all die, they’ll end up with blue, but that’s a fleeting thought as she puts it all in her backpack.

He’s right, it is a new age. She’s not going to let him down by wallowing in misery, not when she has a whole server to clean up. Marching toward the portal, Puffy wears a smile on her face. She’s got a new pep in her step, and she’s not going to let anyone take that away from her.

Not this time.

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fanfic #spoilers #spoilers fic #death tw #ghost!tommyinnit #tommyinnit #captain puffy #c!tommy #c!puffy #peace #closure #abuse mention #bittersweet #long post #miishae writes

[remmushound]

Chapter 9 - Dinner Drama!

Summary: The Splintersons have a look around the home and then try to enjoy their dinner with their hosts.

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry

After a swift perimeter check to ease their nerves, the visitors finally started to settle into the lair. It was still so new, so enclosed, that Leo couldn’t see himself being comfortable any time soon. Not until he could confidently locate all the exits, and all the entrances, and where weapons were stored. Not until everything was as secure and as open as his lair was. It wasn’t his right to change the place, but it was his right to not feel comfortable when there were so many places enemies could be hiding unseen. So many dark corners, concealed cubbies that could be hiding threats. So much potential for danger.

When Leo got an opportunity alone with Leonardo, he immediately knew what he wanted to ask. “Hey Leonardo, is your Raph still… you know, calling the shots?”

Leonardo had been anticipating that question all day. He gave a pointedly loud sigh and rolled his eyes as he slumped around to be facing his counterpart, “You ask that every time we see each other. You know that?”

Leo felt his cheek grow hot and his head shrank slightly. Trying to save face, he was quick to defend himself. “Well— a lot can change in six months!”

“Six months…” Leonardo sighed again, and this time it was more genuine and heavy. The revelation of just how long it had been washed over him like an icy bucket of water. Yes, it had been six months, hadn’t it? The time seemed to slip away from him. “Yeah… and a lot has changed. But that hasn’t.”

“I just figured… your whole situation would have changed by now. Especially with you boys growing up.” Leo made an effort to explain, awkward now that he knew he was wrong in his assumption. And he had been so certain too! Since he and his brothers had arrived, Leonardo was acting so confident, so much like a leader! Had Leo just imagined all that?

“Well you figured wrong.” Leonardo said, and now his voice had a defensive edge, “Raphael is just as capable as ever. He is and will always be our leader. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, no, not at all!” Leo put his hands up in an offering of peace, “i was just wondering.”

“Yeah.” Leonardo made sure to side-check Leo as he passed, “Sure you were.”

~~~

“Hey little Mike, you got a minute?” Raph waved at the smaller version of his brother.

Michelangelo looked back, and then skipped over to Raph while humming a happy, upbeat tune. “You’re really risking it all by calling me little again~! What do you need?”

“Er…” It took Raph a second to brush past the threat laced into the happy voice, “Just… y’know… I saw a pool during the tour and was wonderin’ if it was recreational or jus’ for training?”

“Well we usually swim laps in it for warmups, but I don’t see why you couldn’t swim whenever. We got floaties if you need ‘em! Mine have sharks on them!”

Raph grinned. “Do they now?”

Michelangelo nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I’m not allowed to go in the pool without them cause I can’t swim so good.”

“Aw.” Raph nodded along, “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah! I‘m too heavy— I sink like a rock! Can you swim?”

“Eh, more or less.” Raph gave a so-so motion. “If my life depended on it, sure. Never really had much access to water that wasn’t a cesspool or Amazon river.” He shivered at the memory of being dropped in the water, the current pulling him and his brothers along like they were little more than skipping stones.

“Oo! Sounds fun!” Michelangelo chirped, “But do be mindful of Piebald; she likes to swim in there sometimes!”

“Piebald?”

“Oh, she’s a mutant goldfish. She was dad’s pet, but then we flushed her and she mutated and then pretended to hunt us with a hook, but it was really all just an elaborate prank from her and dad to punish us for lying.”

Raph stared. “Oh.”

“Yeah, but she’s totally nice now and not at all sadistic and revenge-driven! No worries.”

“Wasn’t worried at all.” Raph lied.

~~~

After their quick assessment, Leonardo and Donnie had come to the decision that Mikey needed the simplest medicine of all: rest. Raphael had been more than happy to stay with Mikey until the turtles could adjust to the new environment, but exactly when that would happen was anyone's guess. Mikey was sat in Raphael’s bed, wrapped in the snappers heaviest comfort blanket and hugging Cheech as he listened to the snapper chatter with all the joy of a child. Klunk had settled in and was sleeping on Mikey’s lap in a tight orange ball, purring to his hearts content.

“Oh oh oh!” Mikey chirped quickly, “Tell me more about the capybara tell me more about the capybaraaa!”

“His name’s Todd.” Raphael indulged, “He owns a puppy farm in the woods near here.”

“Puppies..” Mikey sniffled softly and hugged Cheech tighter, “This day just keeps getting better and better. Are he and the mantis friends?”

“Todd’s friends with everyone.” Raphael answered.

“Oh my gaaaawwdd…” Mikey fell back down on his carapace, laughing weakly as he stared up at the ceiling. “That’s awesome…”

Raph moved to carefully reposition Cheech in a way that Mikey could still hug him while laying down, fixing the blanket and pillows to make sure the shinobi was as comfortable as possible. Mikey’s eyes were closed now, the stuffed bear drawn to his chest as he laid peacefully. Raphael stood slowly and made his way to the door.

The moment Raphael’s hand touched the handle, Mikey sat up straight. “Where are you going?”

“Oh— sorry. I thought you were asleep.” Raphael said, and he returned to Mikey’s side.

Mikey settled back into the bed, cuddling deeper into the blankets and giving a series of high pitched chirps that eventually faded to nothing. Raphael gave it a few more minutes before slowly getting up and going to leave again.

Like Dracula out of his coffin, Mikey sat up again and spoke so suddenly that Raphael couldn’t help but flinch. “What about the other mutants?”

Raphael took a deep breath as he spun around on his heels to face the turtle who still wasn’t asleep. “What do you wanna about them?”

Mikey grinned. “Everything!”

***


Donnie didn't think anything could top him meeting Shelldon that night— and then he saw Donatello’s lab for the first time. The beautifully artistic designs mixed with a generally futuristic style made for a gorgeous display of technological genius . Just like Donnie’s own lab, Donatello had several screens activated at once, scanners and alarms and traps all set to be activated at the simple trip of a sensor. The entire room was lit up in a peculiar violet hue, almost as if it was under one big black light. If that was the case, then Donatello certainly kept his room spotless.

“Oh my kami…” Donnie gulped, his eyes emeralds in the darkness. “Can I live here? I wanna live here…”

“You gotta pay rent.” Donatello said.

“I’d give anything to have my lab like this!”

“Would you give your right cornea?” Donatello leaned against the wall.

“Eh, my eyes are useless. I would give up a kidney or a gallbladder though.” 

“I’ll grab the bone saw.”

“I’ll sign the consent form…”

***

“Dinner is served!” Michelangelo presented a simple dish of pizza gyoza to the table; one could say it was just homemade pizza rolls, but that ruined the magic! Besides, they were more doughy like a dumpling than anything crunchy. 

The two families were gathered around and eager to eat, seated around two tables that had been pressed together to make enough room for ten diners; each set of brothers were on opposite sides of the table, while the heads of the table were reserved for the Splinter’s. The absence of one of the two fathers didn't go unnoticed.

“Itadakimasu.” Splinter said to the proud Michelangelo, “The food looks delicious. Won’t your father be joining us?”

Another chill came to the room. Another exchange of unsettled looked.

“Dad asked not to be disturbed.” Leonardo said simply.

The Hamato family turned their eyes to their food, working with the same mind to scarf down the gyoja as fast as possible, filling their mouths so they wouldn’t have to speak. The Splinterson family took the same opportunity to look around at each other, all but Mikey having the same, constricted looks on their faces; Mikey was already lost in his own mind, his eyes blank as he smiled and shoveled the offered dinner into his mouth.

“Surely your father would prefer to eat his supper while it is still hot?” Splinter insisted.

Raphael stood abruptly. His plastron bumped into the table and made the dishes clink and glasses splash with the force of his motion, but chair screaming as it was pushed back.

“You know what? You’re right.” Raphael hurried to gather another plate and pile it with gyoji, his eyes avoiding Splinter’s as he piled the dinner on a tray with freshly brewed tea. “I’ll bring this to him right away.”

When Raphael left, he took the conversation with him. He returned minutes later but the air of the room remained quiet and tense. Eager to break the silence, Leo finished off the last of his gyoji.

“Gochi sou sama deshita.” He said, and bowed to Michelangelo, “And while I am thankful for your hospitality— we all are— this isn’t a social visit. We really need to get back to our world. Can your gift do that, Donatello?”

“Should be able to.” Donatello said with a nod, “It was designed for two trips, here and back.”

“Great, then what are we waiting for?” Leo looked around for an answer but no one offered one, “Those creatures are still in our world, could be targeting our people, our city!”

“We need a plan first Leo.” Donnie tried to reason, “We can’t just run in blind.”

“Then we should be planning instead of just hanging out!”

“Can’t plan on an empty stomach.” Michelangelo said, pointing his chopsticks at Leo. “We’re eating!”

A sharp hiss came from Leo’s throat. “Don’t. Point. It’s rude.”

Michelangelo put his chopsticks back down and shrank away from the violent hiss, the retreat as instinctual to him as going into his shell.

“Leonardo…” Splinter tried to reason, “Please settle down and allow us to have a nice supper before discussing.”

“But we need to discuss this now!”

Leo’s disobedience of his father made his brothers gasp, Raph pulling back slightly while Mikey even broke out of his minds wandering to tune back in. Leo flinched at his backtalk and fell into a quick, clumsy bow.

“Shitsurei shimashita, sensei.” Leo said in a low voice before regaining his composure, “I just feel like these guys aren’t taking this situation seriously.”

“And I feel like you expect us to pull a solution out of our asses.” Leonardo hissed back.

“Now now, there’s no need for vulgarity…” Splinter tried.

“I’m not suggesting that you have the answers, I suggesting we need to find them instead of doing house tours!” Leo snarled back.

“If you don’t like it, you can get out.” Leonardo didn't back down.

“Leo, it’s fine, cool it.” Donnie tried to mediate, grabbing a hold of his brother’s arm; he was almost convinced Leo might lunge over the table at his smaller counterpart if this went on for much longer.

“I am cool!” Leo pulled his arm free, knocking Donnie back in the process. That got Raph involved, the box turtle standing up ready to confront his brother. Before he got so much as a word out, however…

“Everybody COOL IT!” Raphael slammed his fists down on the table.

The table splintered under Raphael’s slamming weight, chips of wood flying out like dangerous projectiles. The words, with all the force of a hurricane knocking trees out from their roots, brought a silent stalemate. Raphael looked pissed. His eyes were white, entire body like a taut wire that would snap at the slightest breaths. His nostrils flares, and when he had screamed, white, foaming spittle flew across the table. Now, it dripped down his lopsided jaw and chin.

“Not another word.” Raphael said, this time calmer as he left the table once more. All eyes followed him to the doorway to find a small, gray rat standing there watching them.

Yoshi’s mouth was pulled down in a tight frown, eyes glossy. His paws, shaky as they were, held his tray of dirty dishes that he had been intent on cleaning; for now, he just… stared. His fur seemed several shades paler, his hair tangled and unkept, and though it was hard to tell through the clothes. he looked skinny. The mutant looked around at the table, at the turtles and the rat he had paid many visits to, but when his eyes passed over them they held no recollection. No memory. Just dark confusion, empty and cold.

“Dad…” Leonardo said softly, but at Raphael’s threatening chuff, Leonardo said nothing more.

“Hey pops— here, let me get that for you…” Raphael took the tray from his father and hurried over to throw them haphazardly into the sink. He came back after, his massive hand completely engulfing Yoshi’s back to guide the old rat away away. Yoshi followed the snapper at a slow gait, though his feet dragged as if they were made of the heaviest lead and it took a while for him to get anywhere. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed okay?”

Everyone watched as the father and son disappeared out of the dining room, none of them daring to breathe, nonetheless utter a word.

#Leo Drama starting early #raph risking it all #Mikey: who needs sleep when it’s story time?! #Yoshi dear? #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles #beyond the bay #bay/rise crossover

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】  Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-5 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

Xia Yan’s Home, Second Floor

After Xia Yan and I returned home, carrying the cardboard boxes full of Ji Xiaoqing’s items, we immediately started inspecting them.

In Ji Xiaoqing’s two boxes, one was filled with work-related items, while the other was for her personal items.

I first opened the box with Ji Xiaoqing’s personal items and flipped through the journal that we hadn’t finished reading.

One record in had a symbol indicating importance drawn on it.

MC: This record is of the day of Ji Xiaoqing’s birthday.

“Xiaoyu gave me a very expensive business suit. Where did this kid get so much money? She must have cut her spending on essentials.”

“But since these are Xiaoyu’s kind intentions, she’ll be very sad if I reject her.”

“I’ll do my best at work and aim to buy that camera that Xiaoyu likes for her as soon as possible!”

Xia Yan: According to Ji Xiaoyu’s confession to the police, she first borrowed a sum of money from Bedo Loan company before Ji Xiaoqing’s birthday.

MC: She just wanted to surprise her sister…

MC: But Ji Xiaoyu deliberately hid this from us when telling us about her reasons for borrowing the money.

MC: She made it sound like she just wanted to shop around out of vanity.

Xia Yan: As expected, Ji Xiaoyu blamed herself too much about her sister, so she deliberately belittled herself, hoping for everyone to condemn her.

I sighed quietly and continued to flip through that diary.

After Ji Xiaoqing’s birthday, she gradually came to notice how down-spirited her little sister was, but Ji Xiaoyu explained it by saying that she was under a lot of recent academic pressure.

At the end, the journal suddenly stopped on the day that Bedo Loan Company arrived to seize the house.

Xia Yan: Let’s take a look at her work items.

Xia Yan opened the other box. Ji Xiaoqing had left her job in a rush – she had wrapped up a lot of things but not taken them away.

After Ji Xiaoqing died, the company sent these to the police as evidence, which was then handed to Ji Xiaoyu.

Most of what was in there were randomly scribbled handwritten papers, professional work content books, as well as a library card stuck in a book as a bookmark.

Xia Yan looked at these, his brow wrinkling slightly.

MC: Xia Yan, did you notice something?

Xia Yan spread out the papers that Ji Xiaoqing had scribbled on.

Xia Yan: Look at the handwriting.

Xia Yan: The papers that Ji Xiaoqing used as draft paper were the useless documents that she had printed wrongly.

Xia Yan: According to the time that these documents were printed, these ones were from the days after Ji Xiaoqing found out about her sister becoming scammed by the trap loan.

I looked towards the writing on those draft papers, which were unusually messy.

MC: I remember that Ji Xiaoqing took the initiative to resign due to an increase in frequency of mistakes at work.

MC: We can deduce from this writing that Ji Xiaoqing’s emotions were very chaotic then, to the point where she could not work normally.

Xia Yan nodded pensively.

Xia Yan: At the beginning, her writing was extremely messy.

Xia Yan: But on the papers after, her writing began to slowly return to normal.

MC: This means that she had already shaken off or restrained her anxiety and panic.

MC: If so, why would her work mistakes increase in frequency, and why did she actively resign?

MC: The sisters must have been penniless and desperate because of the trap loan, so she must have needed money.

Xia Yan: So, I think that she might have had something even more important to do.

MC: Something more important? What would’ve been more important to Ji Xiaoqing back then…

MC: Ah! Could she have found clues on Qian Yi or Bedo Loan Company’s illegal actions?

MC: Ji Xiaoyu was afraid to call the police because Bedo Loan Company had leverage against her.

MC: So for her sister, Ji Xiaoqing might have investigated on her own to collect evidence.

MC: She didn’t tell Ji Xiaoyu because Ji Xiaoyu had sunken into sorrow and self-blame during that period.

Xia Yan: That’s very likely.

Xia Yan: If my deduction is true, then Ji Xiaoqing has no motive to commit suicide.

Xia Yan: And she definitely wouldn’t have been driven to get dead drunk, then get into a traffic accident while drunk…

MC: So you’re suspecting… Ji Xiaoqing didn’t die by accident. Instead, she was murdered.

MC: If Ji Xiaoqing was murdered… she must have found out about something.

Xia Yan: According to Ji Xiaoyu, Ji Xiaoqing kept writing something in a black leather notebook, but this notebook wasn’t included among the things she left behind.

MC: Could it have been taken by Ji Xiaoqing’s murderer?

Xia Yan: Another possibility is that Ji Xiaoqing hid it.

Xia Yan: Look at this.

Xia Yan took out that library card placed between the professional work content book as a bookmark. “Stellis Library” was stamped on it in gold.

Due to the widespread use of electronic devices, many places no longer gave out physical membership cards.

But the Stellis Library always considered that, like bound books, physical cards had meaning to them that electronic items could not replace.

Thus, Stellis Library gave every member a physical card, and they would even have commemorative cards at irregular times that members could redeem for.

Xia Yan: This library card design is the newest anniversary version that the Stellis Library just came out with.

Xia Yan: I checked when they came out – it was after Ji Xiaoqing found out about the trap loan.

MC: Around that time, Ji Xiaoqing couldn’t have gotten a library card just because she wanted to focus on reading!

MC: Then let’s go investigate the library tomorrow morning. We’ll probably find something out!

Xia Yan: We don’t need to do it tomorrow. Now is fine.

MC: Now?

Xia Yan: There are still several hours until the library opens.

Xia Yan: And since we’re not the police, it won’t be easy for us to directly ask library staff for Ji Xiaoqing’s information.

Xia Yan: It’ll take too long to leave it to the police. I might as well just get access into the library’s internal network and check myself.

Xia Yan opened his computer, rapidly tapping lines of code.

Soon, he entered the library’s library card application records and found the day that Ji Xiaoqing applied for her card.

Right after, Xia Yan viewed the surveillance videos from that day and found that Ji Xiaoqing had used a storage locker at the library that day.

That just happened to be the day before Ji Xiaoqing’s accident.

--

Stellis Library

Early morning, Xia Yan and I rushed to the Stellis Library. Xia Yan easily cracked the storage locker’s password.

There was only one package in the locker, with a mailing destination written on – “To Stellis Public Safety Bureau”. There was cash and a note on the package.

“Hello, library staff members. Due to reasons I cannot help, I cannot take this package myself.”

“Additionally, as I have moved homes, I no longer live at my original address.”

“I am genuinely sorry for occupying the library’s public resources, but I really have no way to take this myself. Please send this to the police station.”

“The postage payment has been added. Please and thank you so much. – Ji Xiaoqing”

Xia Yan: The Stellis Library management system is very strict and has a good reputation. There has never been an incident where patrons’ valuables were stolen.

Xia Yan: If no one has come to take the things in the locker three months later, it will be delivered to the member’s home, according to the address they left.

Xia Yan: If the items are expensive, the police will handle them.

MC: The clues that Ji Xiaoqing found are probably in here…

Xia Yan: The police would have kept the source of the clues secret, so the person who sends these clues wouldn’t receive suspicion or vengeance from the criminals.

Xia Yan: She thought things through.

Xia Yan took that package.

Xia Yan: Miss Ji Xiaoqing, I am a member of the Ministry of Security, which can be considered a policing unit.

Xia Yan: Right now, I will open your package.

After Xia Yan spoke quietly, he opened the package. There were three things in it – a letter, a black leather notebook, and a recording pen.

We opened that letter first.

MC: This is a letter for Ji Xiaoyu…

The letter said why Ji Xiaoqing did not give this evidence to Ji Xiaoyu, and instead opted to report it to the police.

If something happened to her, the criminals would fix their attention of Ji Xiaoyu. Giving her the evidence would instead harm her.

After, Xia Yan pressed the recording pen’s play button.

???: You’re Qian Yi? Where’s the stuff?

Qian Yi: Of course I placed it in a safe spot – it’s as safe as your event hall, boss.

???: That is not what we agreed on.

Qian Yi: This is something very important to you – of course I’ve got to be a bit cautious.

Qian Yi: Boss, you’re a top name in society – your reputation’s worth a lot more than mine.

Qian Yi: I’m just a little guy in society – of course I know where my place is.

Qian Yi: Don’t worry, all I want is just money.

The recording ended quickly.

MC: Was Qian Yi extorting someone? It sounds like that person has to do with Bedo Loan Company.

Xia Yan: Yeah. Look at these.

Xia Yan flipped open Ji Xiaoqing’s black leather notebook, where Ji Xiaoqing had recorded all her investigations after finding out about the trap loan.

Xia Yan: The last record was on the day before Ji Xiaoqing passed away.

“Those things are still in Qian Yi’s hands. If I call the police, he might retaliate and cause us trouble, which will be bad for Xiaoyu…”

“I will… confront him, and have him never pester me or Xiaoyu again.”

Xia Yan: After Ji Xiaoqing got evidence that Qian Yi was blackmailing others, she wanted to threaten him and have him let of her and her sister.

Xia Yan: If so… her cause of death definitely couldn’t have been a traffic accident. It must have to do with Qian Yi.

MC: Qian Yi died suddenly one week after Ji Xiaoqing’s death due to “cardiac failure”… which likely wasn’t a sudden onset illness.

MC: Instead, it probably has to do with the “boss” in here.

Xia Yan: That’s right.

Xia Yan: I suspect that this “boss” is Oedipus…

Xia Yan: After Qian Yi’s death, he noticed that Sphinx was also investigating Qian Yi. Thus, he thought that Sphinx was like Ji Xiaoqing and had found out about this matter.

Xia Yan: Thinking that he would rather kill wrongly than let anyone slip past, he decided that he had to find Sphinx.

MC: How do we find this “boss”?

Xia Yan: If this “boss” that Qian Yi was talking about really is a top name in society, he’ll probably have appeared in the society news interviews.

Xia Yan: I’ll compare this recording to the online news sound sources.

Xia Yan worked on the sound comparisons, and soon found matching sound sources.

Xia Yan: There are six similar sound sources. If I limit it into Stellis… found it!

Xia Yan: Song Heng, founder and board chairman of Hengda Financial Corporation.

MC: Have there been financial transactions between the Hengda Financial Corporation he founded and Bedo Loans?

Xia Yan: Let’s investigate that after with Sphinx. We should go find Ji Xiaoyu first.

MC: … Okay.

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan #luke pearce #未定事件簿 #the respect that xia yan shows for everyone and everything QAQ #(everyone that deserves it that is)

[angelsfalling16]

The Way You Wear That Dress

Inspired by the song Dress by Charlotte Sands

Part of the 20 First Kisses Series

Summary: It's the beginning of eighth year, and Simon can't find Baz at the Welcome Back Picnic, so he goes in search of him. What he finds is unexpected and makes him rethink everything he has ever felt for Baz.

Word Count: 2150

If you want to know what I imagined Baz’s outfit looking like, here are the links to the dress and the boots! (I love the idea of Baz in these boots and have used them in a couple of fics now.)

Read it on ao3

***

Simon

It’s the beginning of eighth year, and I’m pretty sure Baz is already up to something. He isn’t at the Welcome Back picnic with everyone else, so I decide to go in search of him and stop whatever scheme he’s about to put into motion.

I start with our room, wondering if maybe he decided to go back up there, but the room looks the same as it always is at the beginning of term. My side is devoid of any personal items since I didn’t have anything I felt like bringing back from the care homes (not that I really had anything there). Baz’s side is immaculate, all of his things neatly put away in their respective places, filled but not cluttered.

I move over to the window to look out at the school. It seems empty right now with everyone else out at the picnic. My eyes skate over the courtyard where, not long ago, the first years’ fates were sealed by the Crucible. I only hope none of them were given as evil a roommate I was.

My gaze continues over the grounds for anyone who isn’t out on the lawn, and after a minute of searching I catch movement on the ramparts.

It could be anyone, but I know it’s him.

I turn away from the window and head back down the stairs and away from Mummers House. I quickly but quietly make my way to where Baz is, not wanting to scare him off before I can figure out what he’s up to but also wanting to get to him before he disappears again.

I come to a stop several feet away from where he stands on the ramparts. It isn’t what he’s doing that causes me to freeze, though. It’s what he’s wearing.

At first, I wonder if he has decided to don the Watford-issued cape for his final year, but then I realize that the swishing of cloth around him isn’t a cape. It’s a dress.

The dark green material falls to just above his knee in the front, giving just a glimpse of his thighs, but in the back, it nearly grazes the ground. At the top, around Baz’s shoulders and chest and around to his back, the material is sheer with interwoven lace, allowing his pale, grey skin to show through. He wears the dress like it’s nothing, like it was made specifically for him. (Knowing Baz, it probably was).

My eyes follow the line of his dress down to his things and knees, but where I expect to see the rest of his legs – his muscular football calves – I’m met with the sight of knee-high boots that are laced up the back and have a heel that adds at least two inches to two inches Baz already has over me.

I can’t seem to stop staring at his outfit, but I finally manage to force my eyes back up, and that’s when I notice Baz’s hair.

For the first time since I’ve met him, Baz is wearing his hair down with no products slicking it back away from his face. Instead, it’s being pushed back by a thin headband, silver like his eyes, that still allows his hair to fall in natural waves around his face.

Suddenly, my mouth is dry and my throat feels tight. I try to form words in my head, but my mind is blank. All I can think is, legs. And that’s when I know that I’m fucked.

How is it that Baz looks so good in a dress? He should look ridiculous. I should want to ridicule him for it. Instead, all I can do is stare and hope that he doesn’t turn and find me staring at him.

For a full minute, my eyes slowly drag up and down his body, taking it all in, before I force myself to look away, not wanting to get caught staring at him. Inevitably, though, my eyes are drawn back to him. 

It’s hard to believe that it’s really him. I just can’t reconcile this version of Baz with the version I’ve known for seven years. He looks so different, but he also looks very much like himself. Possibly even more like himself than he ever has. (If that makes sense.)

I wonder what happened to him this summer. It’s like there was a shift somewhere within him that made him act and dress differently. I just don’t know what it is.

He is dressed so femininely, but he still holds this masculinity about him, and the whole thing is driving me crazy. He pulls it off so effortlessly.

He’s dripping with confidence as he leans his arms on the ramparts, a lit cigarette hanging between his fingers.

I know the smart thing to do would be to turn away and leave him be, but doing what’s smart has never really been my strong suit.

I take a few steps towards him even though I haven’t consciously made the decision to do so. I feel drawn to him like a string is pulling me towards him, and as I draw nearer, I notice a glossiness to his lips, as if he’s spread lip gloss or something over them.

I want to hit him. Why does he always look so good? It’s annoying. 

My eyes fall back to the dress he’s wearing, and I can only imagine what other people might think if they saw him like this. For starters, he’s out of uniform, and also, he looks bloody well perfect, like nothing he wears will ever make him look bad.

I briefly consider going to find the mage and telling him what Baz is wearing, but breaking dress code isn’t enough to get him kicked out of school. Plus, I’m not sure I want to share this side of Baz with anyone else.

I’m not sure why but it probably has a lot to do with the fact that Baz has obviously chosen a place away from everyone else, maybe so they won’t see him like this and judge him for it. But it could be something else holding me back. Something like this desperate need I’m feeling to put my hands on him.

I want to push him up against the wall and…and…. That’s where my thoughts cut off because usually when I push Baz against the wall, I want to punch him, but today, that’s not what I want. I don’t want to fight him. I want to…

I shake my head. I can’t finish that thought, can’t think about what it means.

And yet…

An image pops into my head of my hands on his hips, rubbing against the luxurious material of the dress he’s wearing. Of my hands in his hair, tangling in it. Of his breath on my cheek. Of the feeling of his glossed lips on mine. Of the moment he starts to kiss me back and--.

And I shake my head again.

I won’t lie and say that I don’t want any of that, but I can’t be foolish enough to allow myself to hope for it. Nothing has changed. Baz still hates me, and he’d laugh in my face if he found out that I want to kiss him.

Because I do. Want to kiss him, that is. And it’s not just because of the dress. I think that was just the thing that pushed me to finally admit how I feel. How I’ve felt for a long time.

But Baz will never feel the same way about me.

I should go. I can’t let him catch me practically drooling at the sight of him in that dress.

I turn away from him, but I turn too quickly and trip on my own feet, cursing loudly as I try to catch myself.

“Simon?” Baz says behind me.

“Uh…” I say stupidly, picking myself up off the ground and slowly turning to face him. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You, uh, you w-weren’t at the picnic. I came looking for y-you,” I stutter out as my face flushes red.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” he says, and his voice sounds strangled.

He drops the cigarette to ground and grounds it out with the toe of a boot that probably costs more than everything I have ever owned. That sight shouldn’t make me even more attracted to him, but it does.

He turns one of his usual sneers on me and snaps something snarky at me, probably the beginning of chewing me out for following him, but I barely hear a word he says because I’m so mesmerized by the way he looks. Also, the sound of his voice is somewhat soothing, even with the biting words that no doubt spill from his glossy lips. I missed hearing it while we were away for the summer.

He’s looking at me expectantly now, like he’s waiting for me to answer a question I didn’t hear, and I feel myself blush even deeper.

What the hell is wrong with me? This is Baz. He’s just wearing a dress. I shouldn’t be acting this weird around him.

That’s when I see his nails, colored all black, a glossy sheen to them, and that’s the last straw.

I can’t possibly think straight anymore, so I push all thoughts from my mind and move to close the distance between us. Careful not to mess up the dress, I shove him up against the wall but stop just before our lips meet.

The heels of his boots cause him to tower over me even more than usual, but I’m not bothered by it. I actually kind of love it.

His mouth is parted as if I stopped him mid-word, and the tips of his ears are turning pink. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, though. I’ve never been very good at reading people, especially not when it’s Baz.

“If you’re going to punch me, get it over with already, Snow,” he sneers.

“You called me Simon before,” I say.

“No, I didn’t.”

I shrug. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is, “I don’t want to punch you. Far from it actually.”

He hasn’t pushed me away yet, and my confidence starts to build. Maybe Baz would be more receptive to this than I originally thought. 

I keep one hand on his hip to keep him pinned to the wall and move the other one up to cup the side of his face.

“Is this okay?” I whisper, hesitantly. He nods, so I move my hand up higher, into his hair. My hand slides over the headband and combs through his hair. “What about this?” I ask, my voice breathy and barely audibly.

He nods again.

My eyes drop down to his mouth, and I want to try one more thing, but I don’t want to push my luck. I don’t want to risk trying too much and losing it all.

“Just do it,” Baz whispers as though he read my mind.

I cock my head at him in a question, uncertain whether he actually means what I think he does. Then he says “kiss me” so I quietly I almost don’t hear him. But I do hear him, and it only takes me a beat to lean forward and press my lips firmly to his.

The kiss is everything I imagined and more. His lips taste like cherry cola, and I feel drunk on the taste of him. Like I’ve lost all sense. (And maybe I have since I’m kissing Baz of all people.)

It only takes a moment for Baz to begin kissing me back, his arms coming up to wrap around me and pull me closer. I can feel the dress move along his body as he moves under my hand, and I feel lucky that I get to experience this. It’s a shame that he’ll only be wearing the uniform after this.

I wonder if he would even want to wear this dress in front of other people if he could.

I like the way he looks in it, but I obviously wasn’t meant to see him like this. Does he like wearing the dress? Is he afraid of what other people might think? Has he worn it before?

I have a million questions, but now is not the time to ask. If Baz wants to talk to me about his choice to wear the dress, I’ll be there to listen. But I won’t pressure him into talking about it.

So, for now, I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

I’m going to enjoy this while I can. Having Baz in my hands and not fighting with him. This is so much better than fighting, I think, and I continue to kiss him, thinking about how this may be the best year at Watford yet.

#snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow trilogy #rainbow rowell #my writing #the way you wear that dress #20fk

[clumsyclifford]

you said i should say less about new ace content in general and i immediately understood that as say more so please gimme some ace stuff and please make it fluffy. i don't particularly care about the pairing but i'm always down for lashton and/or malum but any atl ship works for me as well so like just do your thing i guess wow that was a useless sentence this messy ask is further proof that i should go to sleep so bye love you!! -fiancee

well i ran with ace lashton in an interesting way i hope you enjoy it this is not based on real life but maybe it could be. in a better world it is. that’s all i’ll say about that, i hope you like it

read here on ao3

-

Luke likes going to the movies. He likes staying home and having a home-cooked meal. He likes quiet, simple, intimate activities.

He does not like parades.

“But it’s Pride,” Ashton wheedles. “D.C. Pride! One of the biggest pride events in the country!”

“You made that up, and I don’t care,” says Luke. “I don’t want to go. I don’t like parades.”

“It’s not really a parade.”

“Also not true.”

“Okay, but it’s not about the parade, it’s about the gathering,” Ashton says, gently shaking Luke. “It’s about a bunch of queer people all coming together and uniting in one space. Celebrating our differences and our similarities. Celebrating community.”

“That’s beautiful,” Luke says. Ashton looks hopeful. “Still no.”

Ashton huffs. “I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Go with Michael and Calum,” Luke suggests. “I’m sure they’d love for you to tag along.”

“And third-wheel all day? No thanks.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Luke says, and carries on setting the table for dinner. If his mum comes home to a half-set table, the blame will fall on Luke, of course. Ashton takes the cue and begins laying out plates.

It’s quiet for a moment. Luke can tell Ashton is trying to come up with a way to convince him to go to Pride, but it won’t work. Luke’s avoided Pride for seventeen years. He doesn’t intend to start now. Staying at home with his boyfriend and watching Rent is about as much as Luke cares to celebrate Pride Month. Maybe they’ll make out a little. Standards are low.

“Okay, how about this,” Ashton says, and Luke sighs deeply. “No, hear me out. And keep an open mind, okay? Think about compromise.”

“I’m listening.”

“What if we go before the parade starts?”

Luke frowns. “Then what would be the point?”

“There will still be people there,” Ashton says. “But it won’t be nearly as many people, and the festivities won’t really be happening yet, so we can still say we went to Pride but we won’t get caught up in the whole big thing.”

“But I thought you wanted the whole big thing.”

“Ah, whatever,” Ashton says, waving him off. “I’d rather go with you than see the parade alone.”

Luke feels bad. It’s obviously important to Ashton, or else he’d have given up already on trying to make Luke go. And as much as Luke knows he shouldn’t feel obliged to prioritize Ashton’s wishes over his own comfort, this makes him want to.

Compromise. “Okay,” Luke says. “Fine.”

Ashton blinks. “Really?”

“Did you think that wouldn’t work?”

“I—” Ashton’s face breaks into a smile. “I don’t know, not really, to be honest. Really? You’ll come?”

“Yes,” Luke says, and the delight in Ashton’s face makes up for the dread pooling in Luke’s stomach. 

Ashton shuffles around the table and presses a warm kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says, warmth also bleeding into his voice. “I’m excited. You’re gonna like it.”

Probably not, but Luke keeps that thought to himself. He doesn’t need to rain on any more of Ashton’s parades.

-

Luke and Ashton are excited about Dupont Circle for different reasons. Ashton is basically vibrating out of his seat on the Metro as they approach their stop, where the parade is slated to begin at half past noon. It’s only eleven now, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Ashton. He seems confident that there will be enough Pride to satisfy his excitement without overwhelming Luke.

Luke’s just looking forward to the Krispy Kreme at the station.

They take the escalator out, and sure enough, there’s Krispy Kreme to the left. Luke grabs Ashton’s hand and yanks him towards the shop.

“Seriously? We’re at D.C. Pride and your priority is donuts?” Ashton says, but he allows Luke to tug him along until they’re at the door.

Luke turns to him and very seriously says, “Ashton, my priority is always donuts.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, I walked into that one,” Ashton mutters as they enter the store.

Five minutes and two donuts later, both of them exit, Luke munching contentedly on a strawberry-frosted donut (with sprinkles, of course) and Ashton carefully biting into his jelly-filled one. 

“Okay, starting now, we’re at Pride, and you can’t be a Negative Nancy,” Ashton declares.

“I promise not to be a Negative Nancy,” Luke vows. “I swear on this donut.”

Ashton beams. “Yay! Okay let’s go explore.”

You’d think this was Ashton’s first Pride for how excited he gets over everything. He stops at almost every stand, even though they’re all selling different versions of the same thing, and somehow manages to spark up conversation with any passing person who looks queer and interesting. Luke loves this about Ashton, how charming and outgoing he is, how he could befriend a vaguely human-shaped plant. People are drawn to him; Luke’s no exception. Ashton is very much the main character, even more so because he doesn’t seem to know it. He's just Ashton, and Luke loves him for it. Even when it means the halo of Ashton’s spotlight draws attention to Luke by extension.

Luke is not a charming, outgoing person. Luke is quiet and reserved. He’s never cared for the spotlight. Sometimes it’s a good thing that he has Ashton to pull him out of his shell a little. Sometimes he wilts under the scrutiny. It's a toss-up, but Luke appreciates that Ashton never stops trying.

Most of the tables selling merch boast shirts, hats, flags — the kind of thing you’d wear or own if you wanted to be loud and proud about your identity. Luke’s not really that kind of person. Luke’s way of coming out is to subtly slip into the conversation the fact that he has a boyfriend. Before he had a boyfriend, it pretty much never came up. Big, colorful flags have never been his cup of tea. 

And anyway, that’s only half of his identity. The other half never comes up, and Luke’s okay with that. It’s not like being ace is the kind of thing you can casually mention. It has to be a whole thing, every time, and Luke doesn’t want to deal with the whole thing, so he just doesn’t bother. Most of the time it doesn’t really matter. As much as Luke is able to fly under the radar, that’s what he intends to do.

“Hey, pins!”

Ashton is not like that.

“Luke, you like pins, right?”

The table they’ve stopped at is covered end-to-end with pins. Enamel or plastic, every single pride flag Luke has ever seen in his life is represented here, in a variety of shapes and sizes. The kaleidoscopic display is fun to look at, at least. There’s nobody behind the table at the moment, which means in theory it would be pretty easy to steal one, but Luke’s not like that, and even if he was he wouldn’t feel good stealing a pride pin from a small-business owner.

“I don’t really have an opinion,” says Luke.

“Ha,” Ashton says. “O-pin-ion. Haha.”

“I’m leaving you,” Luke says, turning away with a wry grin.

“No, come back.” Ashton grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, so Luke wraps an arm around his waist and rests his head on Ashton’s shoulder instead. “I like pins. They’re a very understated way of coming out.”

“Having a boyfriend is an understated way of coming out,” Luke replies.

"I resent you calling me understated," Ashton says in faux-indignance. Luke giggles.

“I’m so sorry, I had to run and grab some water,” says a voice, as a person bustles around them to stand behind the table. Their pink fringe is pushed back by a bandana and they’re wearing a jean jacket with so many pins and patches that the fabric is practically invisible. A sticker on the front pocket of the jacket introduces them as Alex, he/they :). “Can I help you with anything?”

“Just admiring the collection,” Ashton says brightly. “I love your jacket.”

“Thank you very much,” says Alex. “It’s been accumulating pins for about five years now.”

“Damn,” Ashton says, wolf-whistling. “That’s a good collection. I don’t have a good jacket for pins.”

“Wish I could tell you where I got mine, but it was a gift from my boyfriend,” Alex says. “I’ve heard thrifting is a good way to go.”

“You wanna go thrifting, Luke?” Ashton says, nudging Luke, who shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. He reaches for one of the asexual flag pins, a small enamel rectangle, and smoothes his thumb over the surface. “These are pretty nice.”

“You should buy it,” Ashton says. “Start a cool jacket. Then we could be matching.”

“You don’t have a cool jacket yet.”

“I know, but we could.”

“But neither of us have a cool jacket. So it’s not even—”

“Fine, ruin my fun,” Ashton harrumphs. To Alex, who’s watching them with amusement, Ashton says, “So how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”

“Oh, uh…” Alex’s gaze diverts to the air like he’s counting invisible numbers. “Six years? Almost? I think it’s gonna be six years in July.”

“Six years,” Ashton repeats in mild awe. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, high school sweethearts, blah blah blah,” Alex says, smiling. They shrug. “Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know. You know?”

Luke swallows. Ashton says, “Good for you. That’s impressive.”

“I like to think so,” Alex says. “What about you? Are you guys together?” He winces. “Should I not have asked that? I’m sorry, to be honest this is Jack’s business, I’m just running the stand because he wanted to go look around a little before the parade started. My boyfriend Jack, I mean. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s all good,” Ashton says. He hip-checks Luke gently, which Luke takes to mean something like is it cool if I tell him? It’s nice that Ashton is asking, but Luke had kind of figured everyone would assume they were together because, you know, Pride, so he doesn’t really care.

“Yeah,” he says. “For, what, eight months?”

“Eight months,” Ashton confirms.

Alex grins. “That’s great, I love it. What are your names?”

“Ashton,” says Ashton. “He/him.”

“Luke. Also he/him.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys,” Alex says. “I’m Alex. He/they.”

“Yeah, your thing says,” Luke says, pointing.

Alex laughs. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t see it. Or they see it and think it’s just another decorative pin.”

“Do people wear pronoun pins as decorations?” Luke wonders. “That seems strange to me.”

“People are ineffable,” Alex says solemnly. Then he grins. Luke likes Alex. In fact, little though Luke’s actually spoken today, he likes most of the people whom Ashton has stopped to chat up. Queer people are so friendly, is what Luke is learning. It almost makes him happy to be here. 

Except now Alex’s words are ringing in Luke’s head, and he can’t stop hearing them. Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know. 

Ashton’s going to college this fall. Luke’s managed to forget about that fact because it’s only June, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Ashton’s leaving and Luke’s going to finish his senior year alone and what if something happens to them? What if they’re fooling themselves thinking they can do the long-distance thing? What if they’re doomed already and this summer is just prolonging the inevitable?

“Well, personally I would love to buy a pin,” Ashton says. “Luke, choose one.”

“What?” Luke says, blinking himself out of his spiral. “Why?”

“I’m buying you one,” Ashton says.

“I don’t—” Luke bites his lip. He’s still fidgeting with the ace flag pin, and he kind of likes it. Maybe he can subtly come out in different ways. Maybe he can just wear it, and wait for someone to ask. Then it’s way less of a big deal because it’s not like Luke has brought it up. 

There’s enough shame in the world. Luke doesn’t need to add to it.

“Okay,” he says instead. He holds up the ace flag. “This one.”

“Great choice,” Ashton says, digging out a five to give to Alex. He hesitates, then pulls out a ten instead. “Actually, maybe I’ll also get one. Then we can actually match.”

“Right, with our matching jackets that don’t exist yet.”

“You know what, fine, we don’t have to match.” Ashton makes a face at Luke. “You can put your pin on whatever you want. It’ll go great with your all-black closet.”

“Shut up,” Luke grumbles. Ashton laughs.

“Hey, don’t knock the all-black,” Alex says. “Black is the new black. It’s fashion forward.”

“Not in eighty-degree June it’s not,” Ashton says.

“It’s seventy-five,” Luke protests. “And Alex is wearing a jacket!”

“Yes, but Alex is not my boyfriend, and we only just met,” Ashton says, grinning. “Also, their jacket is sick as fuck.”

“It is sick as fuck,” Alex agrees. “But I’m still siding with Luke here. You can’t go wrong with all-black.” For the first time, he seems to register Luke’s shirt, and his eyes light up. “Hey, Green Day! I fucking love Green Day!”

“You should be my best friend,” Luke says seriously, and Alex nods equally seriously.

“Hey,” Ashton complains. “I like Green Day.”

“Thank you for the pin,” Luke tells Alex. “Good luck with the, uh, you know, selling more of them.”

“Of course, anytime,” Alex says. “I’m pretty sure there’s a website on these business cards if you ever want to, I don’t know, browse?” They shrug one shoulder. “This is why I’m not a small business owner.”

“Cool,” Luke says, taking the card. He probably won’t use it, but you never know. 

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” Ashton says, as he and Luke start to walk away, fingers interlaced between them. “Good luck! Happy Pride!”

“You too! Enjoy the parade!” Alex says, waving.

Luke doesn't bother to inform him they're not staying that long; he and Ashton turn away and continue walking, Luke with his new pin clutched in his fist.

“They were cool,” Ashton says enthusiastically. “There are so many fucking interesting people here. God, I love Pride.”

Luke grips the pin tighter. The pointy back starts to hurt where it’s pressing into his palm. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for letting me get you something,” Ashton says. “I know it’s not really your thing, but I don’t know. I felt like we should buy something after we stood there for so long.”

“No, yeah, I agree.”

“On the bright side, they’re pretty cool pins.” Ashton holds his out like he’s assessing what he’ll do with it. “Maybe Michael has an extra jean jacket he never wears. I could ask him.”

Luke hums. Ashton glances over at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Are you okay?”

Luke's not supposed to say anything like this. He’s supposed to be positive because he promised he wouldn’t be a “Negative Nancy” and the sky is so blue that Luke would hate to be the reason for rain, but if he doesn’t say it then it’ll just keep ringing around his head until he can’t think about anything else.

“You’re not scared we’re gonna break up when you go to college?” he blurts out.

Ashton stops short and their hands break apart so Luke’s falls to his side. “Where’d that come from?”

“You heard Alex,” Luke says. “Everyone thought he and his boyfriend would break up when they went to college.”

“But they didn’t,” Ashton says.

“But that’s obviously unusual,” Luke counters. He swallows hard. “I’m just saying…aren’t you worried?”

Ashton tilts his head. “Do you want me to be worried?”

And yeah, a little part of Luke does. Only because if Ashton’s worried, it means he values their relationship enough that it would hurt him to lose it. But Luke knows that’s not really fair, and he knows Ashton loves him, even if he doesn’t seem worried at all.

“No, I don’t know. I just— I don’t know.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says again. “I had pretty successfully managed to avoid thinking about it, but now…I don’t know.”

Ashton gently pries open Luke’s fist and runs his thumb over the red imprint the pin has left. Sheepish, Luke puts the pin in his pocket. As soon as his hand is free again, Ashton takes it, holding both of Luke’s hands in both of his own.

“I’m not worried,” he says quietly. His eyes are so sincere and his hands are so soft and Luke loves him and likes him and knows that to lose him would be a fate worse than death. “You must have missed the other half of Alex’s sentence. Remember? When you know, you know.”

Luke’s breath catches a little. “Yeah, but…”

“But what?” Ashton lifts a shoulder. “I already know, Luke. I’m in it for the long haul. So unless you meet some other guy who’s even awesomer than me and makes better puns, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not letting you get away that easy.”

Luke gazes at Ashton until the rest of the world falls away. “Oh,” he breathes.

“Okay?” Ashton quirks a smile.

Luke surges forward and kisses Ashton for as long as he can manage without passing out. It’s clumsy and sweet and Ashton’s hands tighten around Luke’s waist and Luke wraps his arms around Ashton’s shoulders and nothing else in the known universe matters except this.

When they finally break apart, Luke cracks a smile. “Okay.”

Ashton beams. He offers his hand to Luke again, and this time Luke takes it and doesn’t let go.

#luke hemmings #ashton irwin #lashton #lashton fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #idk when im gonna post this but at the time of drafting it i am So Fucking Tired #i cant imagine that will be less true when i finally post it lol #i feel like im constantly tired lmao #but right now its 1am and i wanted to be asleep or like getting ready to sleep like.......an hour ago #and then i made a cup of tea instead #it's july 23rd (it's july 22nd but it's past midnight so. 23rd) #and i want sleep! #after i save this post to my drafts tho im gonna go start getting ready for bed #maaaaaaaaaan im tired #night yall #oh i hope you like this fiancee it occurred to me while writing that its hard to write an Ace Fic unless its about the Being Ace #which is not something i care to write about #usually characters just........are ace #so this fic plot was borne (born?) of that dilemma #ask #anonymous #fiancee anon #ETA i just woke up twelve minutes ago but fiancee said now so you get this now

[howtosingit]

Fic: She Reminds Me of You

Carlos finally meets his boyfriend’s mom.

*

A 2x01/season 2 spec fic.

1.7K | Also on AO3

A/N: This was a spur-of-the-moment morning free-write, so you can blame the ending on the fact that I had no plan and the boys took advantage of the situation.

-----

When Carlos knocks on the front door of the Strand household, fresh off an eight-hour shift and still in uniform, he’s not entirely expecting to be ushered inside by someone he’s never met before. 

The woman who answers the door is instantly recognizable. Carlos has always thought of TK as basically a younger version of his dad, but he sees now that his boyfriend actually shares a lot of traits with his mom, including his angular jaw and piercing stare. There’s a kind of intensity about her that he’s seen before in TK and never really seen in Captain Strand. It’s almost like a challenging nature, gentle but intentionally disruptive. Meeting her feels, in some ways, like sliding the last pieces of a very difficult puzzle into place.

“Hello, officer,” TK’s mom says, tilting her head to the side as she studies him. It’s so reminiscent of his conversations with lawyers at work that he forgets for a moment that he’s not being questioned, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “You know, usually when a cop knocks on our front door, I assume my son has gotten into some kind of trouble again. But, since he’s been complaining on the couch all day, I’m starting to wonder what Owen’s got himself into.”

Her voice is different than he was expecting, a slightly husky rasp giving her a certain gravitas that makes Carlos want to straighten his spine, or turn and run. His own mother has her brand of well-practiced intimidation tactics that he’s learned to navigate over the years, but standing in front of TK’s mom feels entirely different, almost foreign, and he really doesn’t know how to respond.

Luckily, he’s saved by a shout from the living room, a familiar voice getting closer.

“Mom, drop the act, you knew he was coming,” TK says, finally appearing at his mom’s side. It’s only been a couple of days since they’ve seen each other, but Carlos still drinks him in, knowing that not only is it acceptable to do so now that they’re together, but appreciated as well. TK looks completely adorable in his customary sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair tousled from hours spent laying on the couch. “Hi, babe,” his boyfriend greets him, bright eyes locking onto Carlos.

“Hi,” he responds, feeling the way his face splits open at finally seeing his boyfriend in the flesh. They’ve texted a lot, and even talked for hours on the phone last night, but nothing beats TK Strand live and in-person. Carlos’s heart starts pounding in his chest - a normal reaction, at this point - and his left hand reaches out, seemingly of its own accord. His boyfriend doesn’t hesitate to take it in his own, linking their fingers together and squeezing gently. 

“How quickly I’m forgotten,” TK’s mom pipes in after a moment, and Carlos jumps, suddenly reminded of her presence. He knows she sees by the way her eyes twinkle and a smirk pulls at her lips. “And here I thought TK was bad, but I see that the heart-eyes are a mutual thing.”

“Mom,” TK whines. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asks, turning towards him, her eyebrow raised in challenge. Carlos is impressed that his boyfriend doesn’t back down, though not completely surprised - TK likes a bit of a fight. His blue-green eyes widen as he stares pleadingly back at her. “Oh calm down, Tyler, it’s not like I told him how you spent an hour showing me pictures of him on your phone.”

TK lets out a groan, dropping his face into his free hand. He squeezes Carlos’s hand tighter, almost as if he’s afraid he’ll try to escape. Carlos tightens his own hold, taking a step closer to his boyfriend as his heart rises to pound in the back of his throat. The urge to wrap him in his arms threatens to overwhelm him.

“Well, since my son is being rude, I guess I’ll invite you inside this house that isn’t mine,” TK’s mom continues, stepping back to let him in. He ends up at TK’s side, rubbing his thumb over the back of his boyfriend’s hand. TK steps closer, resting his head against his shoulder.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you, ma’am,” Carlos says, holding out his right hand to her. He wants to make a good impression. “Carlos Reyes.”

She smiles back at him, her gaze moving from his face down to where TK’s is pressed against his arm, and then back at him. “I almost feel like I’ve already met you, Carlos. My ex-husband and son won’t stop talking about you,” she replies, taking his hand in her own with a much softer grip than he was expecting. “And please, call me Gwen.”

Carlos nods, dropping his hand back down to his side. He unlinks his fingers with TK, instead bringing his left arm around his back to grip his waist, shifting to allow his boyfriend to curl further into his side. One thing that Carlos has learned about TK in the months that he’s known him is that he relies on touch to communicate most of the time. Carlos is only too happy to silently converse with him whenever possible.

“Well, Carlos,” Gwen says, turning away from them to grab her purse off the table by the door, “TK and I ordered takeout right before you got here, so I’m just going to run and pick it up. He made sure to put your order in, too.”

Carlos nods again, watching as she pulls open the front door once more. “I should be back in about 30 minutes,” she says, glancing over at TK again with what can only be described as a parental look. “Don’t do anything that might pull your stitches while I’m gone.”

TK groans for the second time in five minutes, burrowing deeper into Carlos’s side. Carlos tilts his head down to press a gentle kiss into his hair, dragging his fingers back and forth along TK’s lower back to soothe him. They’re quiet as Gwen leaves without another word, closing the front door behind her.

“Honestly,” TK says when they’re finally alone, shifting so that they are chest-to-chest as he wraps his arms around Carlos, pressing his face into his neck, “that’s the best first meeting my mom has ever had with a boyfriend of mine. And because I know you’re silently panicking about it, stop worrying, she likes you. If she didn’t, you’d be calling her ‘Gwyneth.’”

Carlos chuckles, his breath catching when he feels TK’s lips on his skin. He pulls his boyfriend closer to him, pressing his palms flat against TK’s lower back as he inhales deeply. 

“I like her, too,” Carlos admits, nuzzling into TK’s temple as they sway slightly in each other’s arms.

“You do?” TK asks, his voice hopeful.

“Yeah,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to TK’s forehead. “You have this intensity about you, and I finally know where you get it from.”

TK pulls back slightly, staring up at him with wide eyes. “You think I’m intense?”

“I think you’re everything,” Carlos corrects him, leaning in to rub the ends of their noses together. “I think you feel things so deeply, you’re so emotionally-centered and invested in everyone and everything around you, and I can’t get enough of it. It leaves me breathless.”

TK’s breath stutters, and Carlos watches as his blue-green eyes begin to shine. His heart hammers in his chest, overcome with emotion for the man in front of him; the man that he loves with his whole heart, even if he can’t say it out loud yet. He opens his mouth to speak, but TK doesn’t give him a chance to continue, pressing up to connect their lips in a passionate kiss.

Carlos sways towards him, magnetized by the pull of TK’s entire being. He drags both of his hands up TK’s back to cup his face, his fingers spreading out to cradle his angular jaw as their tongues connect, dancing around one another. 

It’s a kiss meant to consume him, and Carlos succumbs to the fire without objection. He feels TK all around him - his touch, his taste, his smell. Even with his eyes closed, he appears on the inside of his eyelids, the lines of his face and body clearly drawn from memory, as if he’s been tattooed onto every inch of Carlos’s body, both inside and out.

“Oh my god,” TK gasps when they have to break away for air, his own hands coming up to grip the back of Carlos’s head. He feels his boyfriend’s fingernails dig gently into his scalp, the sharp sensation sending a shiver through his entire body. “Come on.”

TK moves fast, reaching for his hand and pulling him further into the house.

“What about your stitches?” Carlos asks as they make their way down the hall towards TK’s room.

“My, my, Officer Reyes, someone’s a little forward today,” TK teases, stopping in the doorway to fold himself into Carlos’s body once again, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I just thought you might want to change out of your uniform, get more comfortable for dinner.”

“Oh,” Carlos says blankly, staring into TK’s blown pupils. “Right, of course.”

“And if you’d like a little help,” TK adds, rising up to whisper directly in his ear, “I happen to have two perfectly capable hands.”

Carlos can’t help it when a moan falls from his lips, ducking down to press an open-mouthed kiss under TK’s ear. He feels more than hears the chuckle that TK releases in response.

“We should get started then,” Carlos says, his voice gruff with building want, the blood in his head rushing south. “My uniform has a lot of buttons, and I’m careful with them, as you know.”

“Oh, you are,” TK agrees, reaching down to grab the buckle of Carlos’s belt and dragging him into the room. “I’m much less so, but I’m sure you’ll learn to adapt.”

Carlos laughs, completely enamored by the bright, wonderful man before him.  

“More than happy to, babe,” he assures him, reaching behind him to close the bedroom door.

You know, just in case time gets away from them.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlos fanfic #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #I wrote a thing

[fancy-godtier-pants]

The Scale Of Homestuck Classes

Based on Activity vs Passivity

Otherwise known as the thing no one can agree on and please Hussie just release the damn class personality test already.

In this scale we’ll flip the script on what is and isn’t Passive.

My guess? The order goes:

Lord -> Page -> Seer -> Sylph -> Rogue -> Mage -> Bard ->

Prince -> Maid -> Witch -> Thief -> Knight -> Heir -> Muse

Here’s why.

This scale is almost entirely based off of what Alt Calliope says in her internal fight with Jade in Hs2. Paraphrased it was: Witches are more similar to Muses than Sylphs.

And while, yes, this isn’t canon territory anymore. Andrew Hussie has some final say over distinct aspects of the new releases. IE: The name of Yiffany unfortunately. We may never know exactly what details are truer canon than others. That doesn’t mean we can’t still use them for theory crafting.

For further explanation please read under the cut!

So moving on.

To start! Lords and Muses stand as our ‘official’ definition of their Activeness. Lords being most. Muses least. At least that’s one agreed upon sentiment in the community at large.

Making our scale go: Lords -> Sylphs -> Witches -> Muses

Considering what we know to be ‘Active’ behavior, this new scale makes no sense. So we have to reconsider what marks the distinction between Classes. Specifically what makes Sylphs more like Lords than Muses.

I suggest that it is a power scale. Those with more power and say over other classes go higher up on this scale. Power is a subjective ideal in this instance. And speaks more of the Classes ability to get others to serve their purposes, or in nicer words: their ability to get others to help them out.

This creates a precedent of leaders and the people that serve them.

Just for a placeholder and reference we have the

Pages. These guys are often referenced as one of the most powerful Classes. Second to presumably Muses as they are often put on the same side of Passivity. Except that isn’t how this scale works.

This Class knows little to no hands on methods. It is probably the most carried Class in all of Sburb, and if we weren’t setting the precedent of Lord being the most Active Class... I would put Page above Lord :T That said. It is hard to chose which Class gives to others as much as the Page asks of others. But just for how flimsy of a Class it is, it earns an honorary placeholder spot in the conversation as most Active Class under Lords. Gasp.

Then after that

I feel like the easiest way to understand Classes is to look at the Dancestors. Whose whole existences revolve around creating plotholes and making things needlessly complicated.

But either way, I found a pattern.

You have...

Gamzee and Cronus as Bards

Eridan and Kurloz as Princes

Flipped classes right?

Terezi and Kankri as Seers

Karkat and Latula as Knights

These four also flip, though much more subtle!

These 8 are true reversals. A lot of parallels can be drawn between these pairs of Classes and they stand on their own from the rest of the scale in this way.

It’s the other 16 that get ring rounded a bit :T

Tavros and Horuss as Pages

Nepeta and Rufioh as Rogues

Sollux and Meulin as Mages

Equius and Mituna as Heirs 

Each dancestor in the above lines gets lowered a rung below the og troll until you reach the end of the chart. Then it rounds back up with Horuss ending up higher up than Equius.

Kanaya and Aranea as Sylphs

Aradia and Porrim as Maids

Feferi and Damara as Witches

Vriska and Meenah as Thieves

Again we have the same occurrence with these ones between Vriska and Aranea. Everyone again gets lowered down the rung.

This pattern carries this theoretical scale so

After this point it is all basically up to personal taste. I have versions of this where if it weren’t for this pattern, I would have made Bards and Mages true opposites. These things can’t ever be 100% accurate.

Personally, I believe Heirs are true opposites to Pages. This sets more precedent to the pattern and sets Heirs as the most giving Class to counter balance the Page. Pretty fitting, all things considered. 

If Heirs are true opposites to Pages, then based on the pattern, Thieves end up being the true opposite to Sylphs. Shocking and appalling. Also if there weren’t so many damn magic parallels for Sylphs and Witches, this would have been obvious. 

Putting this together, we get:

Lord -> Page -> Sylph -> Thief -> Heir -> Muse

Understanding the rest takes a bit more liberty.

Before we can place the rest, we need to establish where the two pairs of true opposites go from the pattern. This is just a big personal opinion of mine.

Say I’m wrong. I just don’t believe that Bard and Prince are as extreme opposites as Seer and Knight. I also refuse to think that Knights are less giving than Thieves. If Knight gets put between Thief and Heir, then Seer gets placed between Page and Sylph. Then Bard and Prince are in the middle.

That’s how we get to:

Lord -> Page -> Seer -> Sylph -> Bard -> Prince -> Thief -> Knight -> Heir -> Muse

You’ll notice I keep Bard and Prince in the center of the scale for the rest of the time. This is purely because I find their differences to be so negligible that they make the most sense out of the true opposites to sit next to each other on the scale.

Bards lean Active by getting others to carry out their will and Princes lean Passive by setting their own destructive path. But either way, as Calliope says, they are still both destroyer classes at the end of the day. There isn’t much room in that definition for a different Class to go between them.

Then we can plug in the final four. Again if we believe the pattern and the order of opposites set by the Heir and Page. Then the Class above the other is more Active. You can go back and forth all day about which of these four is the most giving or who gets helped the most.

But idk if Hussie actually followed this pattern to make his own scale. And at this point? Why make it any more complicated than it already is damn.

So I just plugged the two from the first pair in as an Active pair and the other two opposites down as a Passive pair.

Making our final scale:

Lord -> Page -> Seer -> Sylph -> Rogue -> Mage -> Bard -> Prince -> Maid -> Witch -> Thief -> Knight -> Heir -> Muse

I also like that Mage and Bard still end up next to each other and so does Prince and Maid. These were other ‘true opposites’ that I had been playing with while theory crafting so it’s just pleasing that some things just work out.

I hope this helps or just. Makes any sense in general! Thanks for reading!

#homestuck #homestuck^2 #don't like that i use hs2 for theory crafting? #dont read #im not going to argue about how canon anything is #when the whole concept of hs is a rolling shit ball #classpect #class analysis