#this was nice to wriite

[hotluncheddie]

omg it's been said before but your autistic Steve series is so good so life affirming so precious to me..... and so I would like to share my own thoughts on the matter...... Steve who did sports bc he had so much excess energy!! and now he gets the zoomies all the time and needs NEEDS to get outside and run around when the weather is nice...... Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask and Robin who says she likes him better without it!!!!.... Steve hyperfixations (feat Steve who reads and frequents the library my beloved, he's so casually curious it just makes sense with his characterization I think)...... Steve full body stimming with Eddie or Robin and feeling amazing!!!!!...... Steve who has set up his space Exactly The Way He Likes It.....

love and light to you ♥️💋🥞🏄🏻

lovely 2jug2head!!! hello!!! ur so sweet!!!

but autistic steve!!! my love!! my guy!!! yesssss!!!! these are all so good! so sweet and lovely and perfect!!! ty for sending me this!!!

(sorry this reply took a little to get too, i've been on my freak shit but finally got few ideas down for u <3)

i think steve would take time learning what stimming and being overstimulated and understimulated means. i think after the upside-down especially, but a lot before that too, he got too used to detaching, kind of separating from his body in order to survive. so now, sometimes, he gets these itches and urges and weird feelings and he just doesn’t know what to do about it. [and i think sport definitely helped him in the past, but i dunno if he would make that connection right away.]

but, he watches robin flap her arms with her sweater sleeves covering her hands. and watches eddie get fucking breathless head banging to a song. he sees robin skip to his car at the end of a shift, looking up at the sky and letting out a 'AHH!' with so so much feeling, cheeks flushed and eyes bright that the day is done, getting in and fiddling with the radio like it’s no big deal. he watches eddie jiggle his leg and bite his rings and stand up and pace when he's talking about something he loves. and steve tries them.

he tries all of them.

he fists his hands and shakes them until something dislodges in his chest, till he can finally take a full breath. he sings loudly along to bruce springsteen and wham in his car in the mornings, sometimes not ever really singing, just making noise. he jumps around his room with robin when she plays blondie, he asks eddie to show him how to head bang, tries it and laughs and kisses him breathless when the song ends. he gives robin his keys and takes off running in a lap around the building after work, sometimes near sprinting, sometimes circling five, six times, going till he's panting and the faces of all the people he had to see that day are washed away, until he can't feel the plastic on his fingers, can't smell the bleach or the too much cologne some guy used. until he's reset, until he's him again, not theirs, not who anyone wants him to be. until he feels good again, lets himself feel good.

sometimes, now, he jiggles his leg the same way eddie does, at the same time, until robin says she has to move 'feel fuckin' seasick over here with you two goblins.' and eddie just laughs. and steve can curl up into his side, if he wants, can pick up eddies hand and bite his rings if he feels like it, eddie would let him, maybe call him cute, wouldn't judge him. neither of them would, if he did that, if he did more. they would never, and its so nice.

<3

["Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask" ;-; that's my fcuking GUY. he would and its so :(( !!!! ]

but yeah, robin would hate that fake plastic smile he puts on to mask sometimes. and she'd tell him, with so much love. 'stop it. show me you.' because she just wants to be with steve.

but she’s so wonderful, he just, she gets it. sometimes things that he didn’t even know were bothering him will build and he’ll snap and rant and moan to finally get it all out. lungs heaving as he empties everything out before her. but she’ll just look at it, and seem to place it all in a way that makes sense, a way that’s small and fits in his pocket. she’ll say ‘woah yeah, that seems like a lot / would be stressful / i’m not surprised you're overwhelmed’ and it’s just. it’s so simple. he’s seen, he’s listened too and validated. it still makes him pause, in stunned silence, and it’s like there’s a plaster placed on his heart with every instance that it happens. sometimes it seems to strike such a chord it's like it's hitting a deep wound that he buried inside, a scab finally healing and falling away. sometimes it makes him sob in her arms, overwhelmed and amazed and so so moved by this person he's met, this wonderful angelic creature that he gets to call his.

the next time he has his super masked, customer service face on when its just the two of them, she threatens to bite him. and steve smiles for real, laughs, feels another plaster sticking over the others.

<3

and steve library frequenter yes yes!! i agree that he is curious and practical and i think a hands on kind of guy! so i think he goes to the library and gets books about cars. i think he likes learning about how to fix his, trying to understand what could go wrong, how it happens, what you do in different scenarios. i think that's something him and eddie and wayne bond over, helping to fix their cars. steve and eddie even work together to do up wayne's van a little, getting it a new bumper and a couple parts scavenged at the junkyard. it's fun for him to work out what's missing, what’s changed, how and why and then putting it into practice. taking something apart and putting it back together. makes him feel proud of himself, something he really doesn't feel often. makes his brain zone in and flow and focus for a couple hours and it just feels so nice, its a happy time for him.

also, speaking of special interests - ✨sport stats✨. steve can name the players of all the basketball teams currently playing professionally, likes watching the tactics shows that come on before and after the games. likes talking at eddie and explaining why its actually really cool that they swapped out that player to give this new guy a chance, he's big news, a young up and comer and has a really interesting play style, its gonna work well with how their current manger organises the court. and eddie just smiles at him, squeezing steves hand in his lap and trying to understand what he sees on screen, follow along (he struggles to take in all the information, it's just not his thing. but it makes him so happy when he watches steve watch.) and steves happy little keens when something interesting happens, mindlessly fiddling with eddie’s fingers and tapping his other hands fingers against his knee, 1, 2, 3, 2, 4, 2. relaxed and focused and sometimes he rocks when it gets really tense and eddies heart bursts.

because it wasn't always like that, it was a struggle and a near pleading for eddie to just get steve to tell him what he likes, talk to him, get to know him. to just let eddie in. because eddie wanted to know everything and steve just didn't know how to deal with that. why would eddie care? no one ever listens to him. he's embarrassing and annoying and gets to loud and eddie doesn't like sports so why would steve tell him anything? it took soft words and gentle encouragement and reassurance again and again that he's listening, he wants to listen, wants to know. 'always, always wanna listen to what you have to say stevie.' so when steve comes over to the trailer after work, talking about the latest switch they announced in the paper, how last nights points shifted the league around and now he doesn't even know who's going to win, isn't that cool? eddie fucking beams because this is his boy. his bright, beautiful, exited baby and he’s talking to eddie, he's letting eddie see him.

<3

steve and his space though. thinking very much about that. he doesn’t have the strictest schedule, he’s learning that sometimes its okay to leave the sheets for another couple days, that the dust can settle for another week before he needs to wipe it away. but some things are just, they just have to be right. he needs to know where things are, needs the important stuff in the same place every day so he doesn't forget. needs his products in the bathroom out and in order so he can keep track of when something needs replacing, so he's not left without something he needs. wants this one specific pillow at night, and one for between his knees and a duvet on year round, needs it to feel warm and safe and right in his bed.

and his clothes, its not even about the sensory stuff for him, like yeah most of his tops are soft, his jeans pretty worn in. he has some really old sweatshirts that are special, that come out on the worst days. but it's also about how clothes look, how they make him feel. he want his jeans to fit right, sit right on his shoes. wants his shirts to make his shoulders look nice, make him feel comfortable and confident and like a normal fucking person who can exist in the world. its another part of the mask, maybe. but it works and its his and most of the time he thinks he looks good. and that's okay. he's learning and its healthy and its practical and it helps.

but he also adores wearing eddies t-shirts. when he's at home all day or to sleep at night. especially if eddies not there, when steve misses him, when he wants him. steve wears eddies t-shirts to bed. they're all ones eddies left after staying, they're old and soft and the tags have been cut out and they smell like eddie. like his eddie. like he's there. steve loves it, wraps himself up in it, helps him feel soothed and taken care of even if he's alone, maybe its a little sad, makes him feel embarrassed, too much. but he's learning not to care.

sometimes eddie talks to him and touches him in a certain special way that makes steve feel so so foggy and taken care of and amazing. so, if eddie's not there but he craves that foggy feeling, steve wears eddies t-shirts and he speaks to himself like eddie would and he makes himself dinner and looks after himself and tucks himself into bed and rubs the fabric of the collar against his nose. and tries not to feel embarrassed if he needs more, if he has to suck on his fingers/thumb for a while, clutching the fabric in his hand. tries to let himself whimper or even cry a little if he needs, at how nice it feels, how gooey and needy he can allow himself to get. accept it as part of himself, that eddie likes it, still likes him, still loves him. just something he needs sometimes. and steve falls asleep, wearing eddies t-shirt.

<3

gonna tag a few people who might want to see, hope that's okay? wanna spread him around and show him off!! look at him!!! our best guy!!!

@pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @spectrum-spectre @just-a-tiny-void @steventhusiast @cherrychapsticksteve @lil-gremlin-things @finntheehumaneater @irethsune

#this was nice to wriite #ive missed him #my most special boy #autistic steve harrington #and as always #autistic robin buckley #autistic eddie munson #but this is about steve #my love #hotlunch #ask #ideas #steddie #stobin #<3 #also a little bit of sub steve at the end there #but like - its just one little part of him - one little part of their relationship #so ye #also having stuff on/in ur mouth can hit big time as a stim and im not sexualising that here #just so u know #its just something nice he can do for himself

[softboiledwonderland]

How long can a multichapter fic be before things start to happen? Asking for a friend

#I know the answer is 'as long as you like' that's not what I mean #I have 4 chapters in which the going is kind of slow and there will be at least one more chapter before some of the shit hits the fan #and I feel like people are losing interest #not that it really matters because I'm not losing interest and I'd much rather have it that way than the other way around #wriiting this is such an enjoyable process and I want the story to be what it needs to be #and I love the three people who are reading it #it's just like. attention is nice #writing #fanfiction

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 8

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose @marksassybanana @a-rogue-tiddy-bot​ @itsyellow​ @lmarina2000​ @d3adite666​

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7,577

Warning: Swearing, adult themes, my bad attempt at wriiting flirting, lots of tension of multiple types, choking, and good ol’ Butcher himself.

A/N: I know, I know, It's been too damn long. And so is this chapter, longest one to date. Despite it being, in my opinion, kind of all over the place, I really hope you guys enjoy. 

Scalding and fresh from the pot, the coffee glimmers like a black mirror in your work mug. Your reflection peers up at you but you're too elsewhere to notice it, its pensive glare or the hint of fatigue on its face. It mimics your dazed pose, one hand on the cupboard handle above you in the break room.

"It's not a magic eight ball."

You jerk, finding Hughie entering the break room beside you. He looks split between amused and mildly concerned at you. "What?"

"Your coffee," he gestures, side-stepping you to rummage for his lunch in the fridge. "You're staring at it like it's got all the answers or something."

With a shake of your head, you pull yourself out of your daze, rummaging through the cupboard for the fixings for your drink. "Wouldn't that be nice?," you sigh. "Caffeine fix and all my questions answered in one little mug."

Hughie settles at the table as you deposit your drink there and fetch your own food. "You wanna talk about it?"

You can't help but stiffen a little as you dig through the fridge, and hope he doesn't notice. Talk about it? About how this morning you'd woken up in a sweat, disoriented at finding yourself lying on your back instead of straddling the subtle v of Butcher's hips? Talk about the brutal shock of cold shower spray and chattering teeth it took to zap you back to reality?

Or talk about the nerves coffee couldn't fix but now made worse? You were strung on a tightrope of mild dread and anticipation for tonight's upcoming jiu jitsu lesson. After feeling his eyes burning along your spine, you were just a bit nervous of how Butcher planned to go forward from here.

"Just a lot on my mind," you shrug, taking up the chair next to him.

He gives a brief glance at the doorway as you shuffle out a sandwich then asks, "About future work projects?"

It's become an easy code to decipher between the two of you; the upcoming gala mission. Admittedly, it's another gnawing concern of yours. So you nod. "Yeah, a bit. There's some minor details that got me thinking."

"Like?," he asks quietly.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening it to the text from MM you'd been reading just before you'd zoned out. Hughie takes it, eyes quickly absorbing the vague message there. His brow furrows. "Um…am I missing something here?"

"It's a little info on the work project," you answer.

"Okay. Again, am I missing something?" He subtly peers about once more and lowers his voice. "It's stuff you'd find on an invitation. Venue, time, dress code-"

"Bingo," you sourly cut him off into your mug.

Hughie lets out a laugh. "Wait…A dress code? You're getting rattled by a black tie dress code?"

"Yes, exactly. Black tie. That means I have to wear an evening dress."

"You've worn dresses before," he replies between bites of his food. "Why is this any different? What's special about an evening dress?"

You rub at the bridge of your nose and sigh. "It's not about wearing a dress. It's about wearing a full-length dress, and heels, which are mandatory for black tie. And those are extremely impractical in shitty situations. Like not having full range of motion, or being able to run! I…" You lower your voice in admittance. "...I don't like potentially not being able to protect myself."

Hughie's face drops for a second as he takes that in. Then places a hand on your shoulder. "Okay, that makes more sense. I don't like that either. Hey, what if I talk to Annie?"

"Annie?," you ask, perplexed.

"Her whole job is about kicking ass in a costume, right?" He flashes a lop-sided grin. "I'll ask her if she can stop by and see you after work sometime. I'm sure she'd have more than a few pointers to share. It'd get her out of the tower for a bit. You find something that you'll pass dress code and feel more comfortable in. I think it'd be a win-win."

"And they say you're not the smart one," you wink. "I appreciate that, Hughie."

"Don't mention it. Do you want me to see if she's available tonight?"

You shake your head. "No," you reply after swallowing a thick bite of food. "Already got plans. Maybe night after next."

"Y/N's got plans? Somebody call the five o'clock news."

You and Hughie both find Victoria leaning in the doorway. A knot flips in your stomach and you do your best to not look suspicious as she strides in. She leans on the table, and you give her a little wave between bites.

"I know, right?," Hughie chimes in, jumping in before it can get weird. "I was just…offering her and Annie an opportunity to cut loose. Girls night, or whatever."

"Aren't you sweet? Good luck getting this work horse to slow down, though," Victoria says as she nods in your direction. Then turns fully to you. "Must be good if you're postponing an all-nighter in the cases. Don't tell me…" She wiggles an eyebrow at you. "Hot date, perhaps?"

You can't help a nervous snicker before shaking your head. "No," you answer into a napkin. "No, not a date."

"Now that's a shame," she says with a playful pout. "Here I thought somebody finally recognized your worth. God knows what I'd do without you."

"You joining us for lunch?," Hughie interjects.

"I'm afraid not," the congresswoman sighs. "I was going to ask Y/N to take some pressing cases over to your team to work on tonight. But maybe you could pick them up, Hughie?"

"I can still drop them off, at least. Before I call it a night," you shrug. "I'm not scheduled here tomorrow, so I'll be there most of the day anyway. I can start on them first thing in the morning."

"See?," Victoria waves in your direction before standing. "Like I said - work horse. I'll have one of the interns drop them by your desk before you clock out tonight. But I insist you wait till tomorrow to start on them. I'll cut you some slack, just this once." Then mutters as she turns for the door, "God knows Butcher doesn't know the meaning of the word."

"You never know. He has his good days," you call after her.

She pauses just outside the break room, casting you both a flat expression. "You kidding? If I had to work with him as much as you do, I think his head would explode. If not, it would definitely be mine."

After the sound of her high heels in the hall disappears, you and Hughie give each other a look. That was a little close for either of you, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God she's not a supe," you whisper into your coffee.

^^^

The rest of the work day goes by at its usual tedious pace. By the time you're flipping through the files you were to deliver, your nerves make it difficult to read through them and retain anything. Agitated, you stuff most of them into your work bag and clock out. When you get home you have just enough time to grab a bite to eat and change for the impending training session.

You settle on a small snack, something light that'll give a pep of energy, and wash it down with a glass of water. You'd quickly learned that rolling with a full stomach is not even remotely pleasant, and an empty one wasn't much better. Nerves aside, you manage to keep that little nourishment down and quickly shed your work clothes for something better suited for rolling.

You're admonishing yourself for feeling so jittery when your phone buzzes on the bed. You finish tearing the t-shirt over your head and read the new text from Frenchie.

Hughie says you have files for us. Mon couer and I left early today. We all have something for you as well. See you tomorrow, mon amie.

Will do, you promptly reply. Then almost as an afterthought, Congrats on convincing Butcher to let you off early! What kind of mood is he in now?

Frenchie's reply comes in just as you finish locking your front door behind you. No clue. He's been gone all day. Kimiko says to take it easy tonight. Or else.

The playful threat isn't what makes your shoulders tense. It's wondering what kept Butcher away from the office all day, and if it has anything to do with what you're about to walk into.

Relax!, you snap at yourself. You're reading way too much into this. You're just training. You have a job to do. Focus on the job.

Remembering that feeling of eyes on your back though makes you pick up your pace as you reach the pavement. Then quickening again when you check the time. You're going to be cutting it close. Maybe too close.

…Don't try my patience, love…

And what if I do?

You shake your head as you try to dash through the crowd over the crosswalk. That was definitely not focusing on the job. Being able to handle yourself was still one of your main priorities but this whole shift, whatever happened last night…well it's making you question your priorities.

Is that really necessary?, the little voice sneers from its corner of your brain. You're just getting awfully flirty with a handsome, murderous widower. That's all.

That makes your step falter and you manage to stay upright, but only just. Widower. After all that time and the fucking mess Vought had wrought on them, a widower. And only for a matter of months now. The fact that that feels more pressing and not the murderous part is an issue of its own entirely.

The hell am I doing? Having a crush is one thing. But this feels…a bit disrespectful. To Becca. And to him. A trickle of doubt pools in your stomach. Has he even stopped for one fucking second to grieve? Really grieve?

Not likely, the little voice whispers. Butcher feel his feelings? If it weren't for him trying to step up for Ryan, he'd be washing them away in supe blood… or smoke, drink and fuck them away. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe you're the rebound, it cackles.

You swallow with a thick, dry click. If that's true, you think as you return to the quicker pace you didn't realize you had dropped, should I care? Would that be so bad?

But that's not what you want? Is it?, the voice sneers again.

You grit your teeth and ignore it, willing the constant noise around you to drown it out. You've got a job to do. You have supes to hunt, Hughie to convince, and people counting on you to do your part, play your role. And you have no time nor room to question your role with Butcher. 

For all of your sakes.

^^^

The elevator feels particularly slow as it ascends to the office. It takes some effort but you keep from tapping your foot like an impatient child. It was five after eight when you had entered the building, and you had questioned Butcher's definition of punctual the moment the elevator doors had closed. Just how many minutes could you push it tonight?

The familiar ding finally comes and you dash out for the office doors. Your hand wraps around the handle and you burst in. Only instead of into the office you burst into the door. You jolt from the shock to your shoulder, glaring at the handle when it doesn't turn. You glance up and find, to your surprise, that there are no lights on inside. It's locked tight.

Perplexed, you fish out your keys and find your copy to unlock the stubborn handle. You can't help a scoff at the sight of the vacant office. "Don't be late," you mutter in your best Butcher impression, which is laughable at best. "Boss me, ditch work all day, and not even be on time? Oh I'm gonna give you shit for that…" 

You open the door just enough to side-step in, fingers skittering along the wall for the light switch. It crosses your mind that maybe something had held him up, that something might have happened to him. A knot of apprehension slips through the dark and coils in your chest. But you swat the thought away, no need to panic over a few minutes late. You breathe a sigh when the switch finally greets your fingertips, giving it a sharp flick…

Nothing. Just shades and shapes in the office. Even the city glow only does so much for visibility. A groan slips out as the apprehension begins to coil again, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle slightly. You drop your bag against the wall and fumble with your phone to turn on its light, slowly tiptoeing into the room to find the breaker. "Damn it, Frenchie!," you hiss into the dark. "What did you do now?"

You only take a few shy steps in before holding the light high, hoping it would reach the far wall. A wisp of memory comes to you, telling you the breaker should be closer to the front of the office. Surely Frenchie would have had the courtesy to tell you there were technical issues, knowing you were dropping by! 

You pause. You suddenly realize if he had forgotten, Kimiko certainly would have reminded him, or text you herself. Standing stock still, light still glaring into the space, another realization creeps over you, thick as the uncanny silence.

The hairs on the back of your neck aren't prickling now. They're standing on end.

Click.

You're just whirling to run for the door when a thick arm wraps about your neck, a hand clapping tight over your mouth. In a snap you're back at the warehouse as you frantically squirm, it'd been just like this, it's happening again! Panic bursts hot in your chest for a split second before a tug of muscle memory kicks. Do something!, it screams.

You try to yank on the arm round your neck, go for a hip throw. It gives you perhaps centimeters to breathe but you weren't fast enough, you're not throwing them forward. At your attempt, your attacker yanks hard, dragging you backwards across the floor.

Adapt! Fight!

You try to drop, lower your center of gravity, make the bastard work for it! Again, they yank, this time picking you clear off the floor. You shift your hips as you're lifted up, swinging hard to plant your feet back as far as you can. When they hit the floor again you scramble, hooking an ankle around the back of your attacker's leg. They stumble and it gives you just what you need; you facing opposite your attacker, their arm in your grip. If they're not going to go forward, then you're taking them backwards.

You shift your hips, shoving them hard into where you guess is the bastard's back, and pull with a yell, adrenaline-fueled force far greater than in practice. The sound of impact booms across the hardwood and a twist of angry satisfaction flits through you at the groan of pain that follows. But it's brief, you turn and scramble hopefully away, utterly disoriented in the dark. You spot your phone, light still on, and the door behind it, like a lighthouse beacon.

You barely manage two steps before your ankle is snatched. Your hands protest against the solid contact with the floor, your face barely missing the same fate as the wind is nearly knocked from you. Fingers stretching fast, you just get the phone in your hand before you're yanked back. Muscle memory kicks in again - Not your back! Don't give them your back! - and you twist off your stomach as you kick blindly-!

Blind! Blind them!

You turn the light towards the attacker, pulling back your free leg again, ready to break their goddamn nose as your own eyes try to adjust. Past the flares and dots swimming in your vision you grit your teeth and face-!

Butcher.

Your jaw drops, and he recoils, squinting in the bluish glare for just a split second. Then he swats the phone out of your hand, sending it across the floor again. "If they're going to teach you how to read a room," he rasps, pulling you roughly until he leans over you, "they've got their fucking work out for 'em." He tsks at you, shaking his head. "Fucking stupid, love."

"You-! You-!," you rasp back. Then your lips peel back in a snarl, fists flailing at him in the dark. "You asshole! You fucking asshole! Should've fucking known!"

Your blind punches are short-lived as he manages to wrangle your arms across your chest. "Alright! Knock it off! Knock it off!" You squirm and yell before he grips your wrists tighter and leans heavy into you, making you grunt out a breath. "I said…knock it off."

"You-!" You swallow thickly, cotton-mouthed, panting. "I thought it was-. Again. The warehouse. You- you almost-! Gave me a fucking-! Panic attack!"

"I had to. And you're about to have it again if you keep fucking hyperventilating," Butcher growls. "Now breathe, goddamn it. Real slow like."

He keeps hold of your wrists and leans up enough to let you take full breaths again. You glare at him as your eyes adjust, sucking air through your nose, shakily breathing out through your mouth. Adrenaline is still white hot in your veins, spiking through your spine. Along with the anger. God, you want to throttle him! After a minute or two, you attempt to speak again.

"Had to? The hell do you mean 'had to'?"

"What I said. I had to know how you'd react in crisis. Especially if it were anything like what happened to you before."

"I think you're full of shit, but fine."

"I told ya," he says, hard and glaring back. "Over anything else I taught you, you can't lose your head."

"Well I'm off to a great start," you huff.

"Weren't that bad," Butcher shrugs. "You used your training. Even adapted that hip throw. That was good. Real good."

You blink back surprise. Maybe you're still a bit out of it…but did he just give you a little credit?

"But you still lost your head a bit, right there at the start. You panicked. That's why that first throw didn't work for shite."

And he's back. Realizing you've been in this position for a while, you shift slightly against the floor. "So what now?," you ask as he lets go of your wrists. "You jumped me, now we fix the lights and warm up? Or is that it?"

"I dunno," Butcher drawls, a mischievous curl in his lip. "You feel pretty warmed up to me."

He shifts off you, and you're grateful for the brief moment to process. Butcher had always been blunt. But you hadn't exactly expected him to openly flirt this soon. Then again when did Butcher ever do as expected? Maybe it's a tactic? Throw you off your training tonight?

"And the lights stay off," his voice cuts through your musing, as he takes one of your hands to haul you to your feet.

"Why? How am I supposed to train when I can barely see?"

"I distinctly recall telling you not to be late," he quips. "Besides, you gotta learn to adapt to conditions anyway. That gala ain't no morning brunch."

"I'm sure they paid the light bill," you utter, looking about for your phone. You locate it beaming under the lip of your desk just next to you. When you stand back up with it, you nearly jump feeling Butcher's hand slide to your lower back.

"What's matter, love?," his voice ghosts over your ear. "You afraid being all alone with me in the dark?"

The nervous giggle that titters out of your throat is borderline embarrassing, but you counter quickly, "More like afraid of getting used to not seeing that mug of yours. Might give me another panic attack when the lights come back on."

He gives a begrudging chuckle as he steps back, shifting his hand to hook lightly in the crook of your elbow. "For not being able to see, you came pretty fucking close to stomping in me mug. Turn off that torch before ya blind us again. Step this way."

You can discern outlines and you do see sections of the office where light from the hallway to the elevator and the windows is a bit brighter. But it doesn't do much to boost your confidence. "How do you see in this?," you ask sincerely, shuffling after him, hesitantly turning off your phone light.

"What? You think we do all our work in bright, shiny spaces? That those cunts want us to be able to see 'em coming?" You can just make out his head shaking. "Nah. And I would think as often as we are in this place, you'd have it mapped out like I do by now."

He stops you in one of the faint outlines of the windows on the floor. In your murky vision you see that he's already cleared the area. "Down here," he prompts, tugging on your elbow and you both sink to the hardwood.

"So are you gonna tell me what you were planning on doing with me?," you tease, nibbling on your lip when you hear a more suggestive tone than you had intended.

Butcher's long legs stretch out along either side of yours, and you feel a laugh rumble in his chest when he pulls you back into him. "I've been planning since last night. I've got plenty of ideas for you."

Christ, he's not beating around the bush is he? 

You refrain from biting your lip again as you become aware of something else. With your vision impaired, your other senses are trying to compensate, to help you reorient in the room. But it's leaving your skin more attune to his proximity, the warmth radiating off him. And your hearing is gonna be the death of you. Butcher's voice had always been one of your weaknesses, and now your ears are keened in on every rough, baritone syllable, every rumble, every damn hum that passes his lips.

He's being a tease. A fucking tease!, you think with a wave of indignation. Putting those SAS interrogation tactics into a game. Bastard is trying to get me to break!

Your pulse kicks up, you feel it begin to patter a quick rhythm in your veins, against your chest. And pressed against your back, apparently Butcher can feel it too, as he loosely settles his arms around your torso. "Feeling alright there, sweetheart?," he croons with faux innocence. You can practically hear the smug look crawl over his face.

You. Fucker. A smug look of your own twitches at the corners of your mouth before you recompose. Alright, Billy. You wanna play a game of who breaks first? You're on.

"Just getting my head into training," you reply coolly. "What are we working on?"

"We're starting with this. Showing you exactly why you shouldn't let anyone take your back." His arms move up to cross snugly around your shoulders. More of a warning than anything else. His legs move over yours till he hooks his ankles just behind your knees.

"Thought you just did that when you jumped me?," you mutter.

"A little. But that was what some sloppy thug would do. If someone really wants to hurt ya, they're gonna incapacitate you first, then drag you off. So you're gonna learn a rear naked choke. How to do it, what it feels like, and how to get out of it."

"What it feels like? Why?"

Butcher's hands slide up to your shoulders. "If you're going to work with the team, get your hands dirty, you gotta learn to be uncomfortable. You've been in that cushy office at the bureau for too long. And again, you gotta learn how to act in crisis. Not gonna get out of it if you don't know what it feels like neither."

"So you're desensitizing me."

"Only to certain things," he replies slyly, draping one arm over your left shoulder. His tone becomes serious when he speaks again. "Now listen close. This is gonna be right uncomfortable. I'm gonna put the choke on you slow. You're gonna push through for as long as you can, which won't be long at all. But don't be daft about it. Tap when you need to, I fucking mean it. If I have to put you in recovery position 'cause of your ego, we'll have problems when you wake up. You understand?"

"I think I can handle a-"

"Do you understand?," he growls hot in your ear, beard scraping along the delicate skin.

You nod, then firmly answer, "I understand."

You watch Butcher's right arm slide up and across till his wrist is just across his left elbow. Then he secures it by curling his left arm back till his fingers just cup the back of your head. The action brings his right elbow to cradle your windpipe with practiced precision, your neck now firmly encased in his arm. But the muscle and bone feel like thick, iron bands and you suck in a surprised breath, hands shooting up to cling at his arm on impulse.

"Easy. Not gonna put it on ya full throttle. Take a calm, deep breath when you're ready," he says as you take a couple shaky breaths. Then low, low enough that you feel more than hear it, "I got you."

You fasten your eyes on the office door, willing yourself to relax. Which isn't much, being wrapped so tightly into Butcher, getting ready to be potentially choked out. After a moment, you remind yourself to tap, give a quick nod and fill your lungs.

Butcher executes slowly, but nonetheless your fingers clutch his arm again as the pressure increases, eliciting an instinctual response from your body to try to get away. But his legs give you nothing to work with and you quickly realize why he had you take a deep breath. You can still breathe, or wheeze rather. But the pressure in your head is firm, quick and thunderous. Blood choke, you think distantly, a ringing beginning to rise in your ears, throughout your skull.

It's mere seconds, but he was right. It's damn uncomfortable. No, actually, it's flat out scary as the edge of your vision begins to fog out the office doors. With a strangled sound rising from your throat you slap his arm in rapid succession. Butcher's response is quick, releasing you within the second hit, arms dropping to your torso.

"You alright?," he asks, craning round your shoulder to peer into your face as you gulp in a mouthful of air. You nod, blinking rapidly when the motion brings a wave of lightheadedness. "You seeing stars?"

"Fuck." It comes out drunkenly. "Lotsa stars."

"I bet there are. Lean back, get your bearings." Butcher pulls you back into him, untangling his legs to set them aside yours again. "You'll be right as rain soon enough."

"Always thought that was an air choke," you sigh. "That you could just hold your breath and try to get out."

"Not a chance," he shakes his head as you rest your dizzy one on his shoulder. "Now you understand why you can't panic. 'Cause there ain't no time for it. You lasted about three seconds, and that's me being sweet on ya. You might last five, maybe even ten seconds if you fight real hard, if they don't cinch it right the first time."

Seconds. Mere seconds. Just to pass out. How long before the lights never come back on..?

"Please tell me you won't make me do that again."

"No," Butcher says firmly. "Not tonight. Doing that too many times too quick is hateful dangerous. Like mucking about with matches; it's all fun and games till you get fucking burnt. Besides…" The arm draped across your hips pulls you in snug. He ducks his head into the dip of your shoulder as you feel fingertips trace the curve of your hip over your t-shirt.

"...I got far better ways to leave you dizzy and panting."

Even with your brain recalibrating - and those calloused fingers brushing by your belt not helping the matter - you manage a smile. Then ask, "Does it involve you actually teaching me more positions? Or are you gassed out already?"

You feel a chuckle hum in your shoulder where his head still presses. "Don't you worry. I'm just getting started." 

Before you can respond, verbally at least, to the heated promise - threat? - in his words, he pulls you into a loose version of the choke again. His legs move back to hooking behind your knees. No sense of danger, but now your hyper awareness of being at his mercy returns.

"Let's kick this up a notch, eh? Get a little tricky. I'm gonna tell you how to slip out. Once you do, you're gonna try to take mount, and not let me take your back again."

"Shouldn't be too tricky to get out of your grasp," you shrug, as if you're unbothered. Even though you're definitely a little bothered.

"Slipping out ain't the tricky part. Just remember that. Now, turn us onto the opposite side I'm choking with. My rights at your throat so…That's it," he says as you roll you both onto your left sides. "Reach back with both hands, grip my hand I got against your head and yank it over. Good, don't let go of it till you try to take mount. You're not going anywhere until you untangle yourself from my legs, now are ya?"

"And I thought you wanted to keep me between them," you sass.

"Question is if you wanna stay there, or if you want to mount me," Butcher quips back without skipping a beat. A flash of his hips under you in your recent dream appears in your mind's eye, the very ones now tucked into the back of yours, and a bolt of heat shoots through your core. 

"If you want out," Butcher cuts through your haze, "you'll put your right foot on my left leg, good and solid, slip out your legs, and move yourself to the left. Once you're perpendicular, you flip over onto your belly and see if you can top me. And I bet that's a big 'if'," Butcher sneers.

With a scoff at the challenge, you go for it. It takes a bit but you manage to wrangle out your legs, pivoting your body hard. Once in line with his shoulders you twist, pulling his hand out of the way. You recall the one pass you learned in your early gym days, sliding your knee across Butcher's belly to keep low and straddle his waist. You sit up high, grinning, "How big is that 'if' now-?"

You realize you fell for the setup when you see the glint of Butcher's grin in the light from the window. Which is a millisecond before you feel his hips throw you. You barely catch yourself from flying into the floor and in a blur you're spinning, right onto your back. By some miracle you manage to wrap Butcher into closed guard as you land.

He gives you no moment to recuperate, a broad hand sliding under to cup one of your shoulders. Going more off feel than sight, you manage to wrap your arm around his and clamp it to you just as he starts to pry. You pull your shoulders as flat against the floor as you can, and pull him forward and off balance with your legs.

"Well, well, well!," Butcher crows above you. "I do believe the spazzy white belt might be picking up on this afterall. You countered me once. But how long before I take your back again?"

"Try it," you challenge, a lop-sided grin on your features. "The next time you see my back is when I walk out that door."

"You are in over your head." 

Butcher goes again for your arms, maneuvers to turn your shoulders for leverage. You squirm, shift, counter in what little way you know how. It's no easy task. Even now adjusted you're still half-blind, and Butcher is stronger and more agile than you've seen before. You know he's not going full force, but he's certainly making you work for the lesson.

Only as the moments pass, there's a shift again. It feels less like a lesson this time. With each counter, with each second you begin to sweat from exertion, each curse from both of you, a complex air wraps around you. When you try to trap Butcher in close, almost like a bear hug in an attempt to limit his movements, you realize what it is. As he mocks your amateur attempt and pries himself free of your arms, you realize that it doesn't feel like the militant sparring from before. It's more like…rough housing. You're actually having fun with this.

By now the two of you have scuffed and shuffled over the floor, the office door now down past your feet, the bathroom just by your heads. It gives a little more light to see by, glittering through the glass from the hallway. You take advantage of it, catching Butcher just in time to see that he's moving his elbows to go for the less pleasant guard pass. Before he can dig his elbows in you shoot up an arm, managing to grab the back of his collar. 

He counters in a flash however, raising an arm and leaning back in a snap, preventing you from getting in the other hand. You see his eyes widen, a little laugh slipping out between panting as you continue to hold your grip. "Cross-collar from guard? You thought you were gonna be that sneaky with me?"

"What's the matter, Billy?" You smile back as you try to seize the brief moment to catch your breath. "Maybe feeling a little slow? Or did I make you a bit nervous just now?"

He reaches back and pulls off your slipping grip. A devious smirk appears. "I think now is a good time we covered stacking." Before you can reply, he wedges an arm under and around one of your thighs. You squeeze your legs tighter, certain he's trying to break your guard. Until he moves off his knees, straightening his legs, and pushing forward. You let out a curse as your lower back comes off the floor, and your hips protest as Butcher's weight begins to inch your knees up towards your chest.

"Nice little stretch, innit?," he says with a waggle of his brows.

"Nifty trick, trying to fold me in half," you grit out. You try to push back with your legs. But even with your hips just barely off the floor, you've essentially lost your leverage. You give a strained chuckle as the pressure increases minutely in your hips. You try to reach down to grab at him, pull yourself back to the floor, but he's too far at this angle. "Real nifty. I guess I did make you nervous."

"Nervous, eh?," he asks, eyes narrowing. "With all that panting and sighing, and filthy words coming outta your mouth?" Butcher pushes a little more before shifting back. Just when you think he's letting you up he jerks on your hips and slides back up, slotting himself between your thighs. You let out a gasp when you feel the firm bulge in his jeans begin to press against your core, his weight heavy on your hips again as he leans into you.

"That feel like nervous to you, love?," he husks against your cheek.

Words fail you as your fingers splay on his shoulders, uncertain whether to pull him in or…or what? Butcher's fingers, however, are far more decisive, one hand slipping just under the hem of your shirt to grip your hip firmly. Your brain is a tangled mess at this point, a tiny portion still in rolling mode, prompting you to do something. The rest is fixated on his fingers, and his beard scratching along your jaw, and the heat and the friction…

"Oi," he mutters, raising up enough to leave mere inches between your faces. You swallow when he traces your lips with his gaze. "I'm still waiting for an answer…What's it feel like?"

You rifle through the haze, searching for words as you hear your breathing mingle, your pulse soft in your ears and…the elevator ding?

"... I swear, mon coeur, it'll take two seconds."

A cold shock of realization wrenches you firmly out of your haze. Butcher's eyes widen like yours for a millisecond before his face turns murderous. "Fuck!," he snarls under his breath, eyes darting about. "Roll! Roll!," he hisses, hooking your legs at an awkward angle.

You gasp, then let out a muted squeal as you're spun and rolled in a tangle of limbs with Butcher. It takes a moment to orient up from down when you find yourself on your ass on the bathroom floor, your back firmly against Butcher's chest again. Inky blackness snaps around you when he pulls the door shut. The lock clicks with a flurry of his fingers just as you hear the office doors open on the other side.

You try to slow your breathing, placing a hand over your own mouth as you will your heart rate to please not be so fucking loud! You'd heard and seen for yourself that Kimiko's hearing was far better than the rest of the crew. But you weren't certain just by how much. And by the way Butcher was controlling his breathing, one palm cupping over your hand at your lips, he must have been thinking the same thing.

"Oh, you think I left our apartment key on purpose? What purpose? I'd much rather be snuggling with you at home than back…" There's the sound of a switch being irritably flicked once or twice. Frenchie's voice turns from teasing to confused. "The fuck…? This fucking place! Hold on…."

As you listen to Frenchie shuffle along, and the boot tapping on the floor most likely being Kimiko's, you try to stay still. To be calm. A task not made easy with Butcher's half-hard length pressing against you, and your own lust still pulsing at the apex of your thighs. You dare to slowly shift your hips to try to find a less distracting position. But Butcher's other arm ensnares your waist, a strangled grunt cut short in his throat, giving you a silent command to not fucking move.

Kimiko's boot stops tapping.

Shit, shit, shit!

"Found it!," Frenchie calls. "Goddamn breakers been flipped. Just a little flick of the wrist and…"

In Butcher's haste to lock the bathroom door he must have bumped the light switch. Or someone had left it on before. But you both flinch when the lights suddenly hum to life with a stab to your eyes. You will to whatever powers may be that neither of them notice the light under the bathroom door.

"...Let there be light. Now the key should be…" There's rustling of papers, a desk drawer opening. Then, "Aha! Just as I thought. Alright, mon coeur, lets-! Huh? What's weird?"

There's a pause, the sound of their steps coming back to the office door. "You're right. That's Y/N's bag."

Your gut drops. Your bag. The one you had left by the door when you came in earlier. A whole litany of curses run through your mind as you and Butcher both tense.

"Hughie did say she had plans tonight. Maybe she was in a hurry? Just wanted to drop it off, perhaps? We'll leave it on her desk, she'll be back tomorrow anyway."

There's shuffling again, the sound of something placed on a desk surface. Your phone, where was your phone? Was it out in the open? You couldn't remember where you had left it, and you hoped they wouldn't spot it. You listen to Frenchie begin to flirt with Kimiko as he turns off the office lights. Followed by the sound of the door closing, the sound of the lock again. With straining ears, you both hear the muffled sound of the elevator doors closing. Only then you pull both his and your hands from your mouth and heave a sigh.

That's two close calls today. Jesus.

"Fucking hell," Butcher grumbles, dropping his head back against the wall with a dull thump. You turn your head just enough to see the sour look on his face. "Too damn close, that one. Gonna have to find somewhere else. We can't keep meeting like this."

You nod. Then start to snicker. He glares down at you with a confused brow. "What?," you smile. "Don't wanna get caught like two teenagers playing seven minutes in heaven?"

Your snickering intensifies as his sour look turns to a snort. Then a wheeze. The nerves from the last few minutes finally spring loose in your chest, and you burst into a full on fit of giggles. It amplifies when you feel Butcher's shoulders shake with a fit of his own, and you see the first actual smile on his face in months.

"Couple of twats hiding in an office bathroom. Fucking stupid!," he wheezes as you try to fight the ridiculous wave of giggles. The sight of his eyes crinkling with humor, a rare sight if there ever was one, makes you smile hard enough that your cheeks start to hurt.

A sudden buzz and tune rattle on the bathroom tile, and you jump. You bite hard on your lip against laughter as Butcher unwraps your waist to wrangle his phone out of his pocket. "What the fuck now? Hold on, hold on. Keep it down." Clearing the laugh out his own throat, he answers, "MM! Fancying a chat are we?"

When Butcher's face morphs to serious, your fit finally subsides. The situation and current setting finally kick in, and after a minute of debating, you seize the lack of hold on you to stumble to your feet. Butcher gives you a disbelieving look as you step over his legs and out into the office, before shuffling to follow.

"Yeah, I heard ya. Which one?," he continues into his phone as you sweep the floor for your own. You find it under another desk again and snatch it up to tuck in your pocket. You lean back against the desk, watching Butcher carefully as the conversation unfolds. "How long we got?...Right now. Of fucking course," he scowls. "Alright, see ya soon."

"What's wrong?," you ask as he severs the connection.

"MM just intercepted a call to Vought from one of the hospitals," he says, shrugging on his coat with agitation. "Someone was dumped at the ER checking off that special list of symptoms."

"Persuasion?"

"Most likely. And we gotta get to them before the company lackeys show up."

You grab your keys from your bag, doing your best not to disturb it on its spot on your desk. "Training for another night then? Well, good luck at the hospital. Keep me posted."

"Now hold on. The fuck you think you're running off to?" Butcher stalks towards you with heavy eyes. "You're part of this crew. We got a job to do. And I didn't say we were done tonight, now did I?"

"Yes. And you heard Frenchie. They know I have 'plans'," you explain as he braces his hands on the desk, caging you in. You smile coyly in response. "And if I show up, especially when MM only called you…They’re all gonna have questions, right?"

Butcher gives out a dissatisfied growl to the ceiling. "We ain't done here," he intones.

He had almost done it. You'd nearly broke there on the office floor. And it had been so very tempting to see what would have happened had you not got up and left the bathroom. But now that you've had a moment to reset, and duty calls…well he can't have all the fun now can he? 

"You're running out of time. Wouldn't be a good idea to keep MM waiting."

Butcher stares you down, a knowing smirk on his face. He nods slowly. "I'll be damned if those fuckers beat me to it," he concedes. "But like I said…"

Before you can blink, he hooks a finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. You had expected it to be heated, greedy. But you're startled at how soft it is. A borderline tenderness you had never seen coming, sideswiping you hard enough to make your breath hitch. You feel him smile at the sound and he pulls back just before you find it in you to kiss in return.

"...We ain't done." His thumb idly swipes over your bottom lip just before he's out of reach. In a few long strides he's out the door, leaving you recovering from the whiplash of the evening.

As fun as it is to tease, you muse, sneaking a taste of him on your lips, I wonder how I can kill one cockblocking Frenchie without Kimiko gutting me alive.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic

[lovelylukaaa]

Townie Makeover #4 | Landgraab Family

It's time for another townie makeover!

Nancy Landgraab, knows how to get what she wants and WILL find a way to get it Geoffrey Langraab, a kindhearted man whos only negative trait is that he is too nice Johnny Zest, began pursuing a career in comedy after being diowned by his family. Currently lives in a trailer. Malcom Langraab, everyone's favorite spoiled rich kid who has a soft spot for his mother

I changed Geoffrey and Nancy's careers back to their sims 3 careers (doctor and politician) cause tbh i hated the whole "She's a criminal and he works in law oh no what's gonna happen!?" thing, I thought it was kinda stupid. I like the idea of Nancy being a politician and the head of the household but also like still a huge dick lol.

It's been a hot minute since I've posted but I think i'm back in action now. Since we're onto Oasis Springs now redoing the Landgraab's was the FIRST thing I had to do. They are way too iconic to be left out of my save.

I think i'm done posting a lot of the stories I have attached to my families unless they're ones I REALLY like. It's too time consuming to write lengthy storie for EVERY character (every character of mine has a basic story but I tend to add a ton of stuff and make them 10x lengthier for tumblr posts). I'll probably still be doing stories for most families but for some of them, I probably won't add them. That or they'll be really short like the last few I posted.

I'll probably end up wriiting Johnny's story in a separate post since he's a pretty interesting character to me

! WCIFS ALLOWED !

#sims4 #sims4maxismix #sims4cas #sims4cc #sims4mm #ts4cc #townie makeover #ts4 townies #sims 4 townies #sims 4 townie makeover #sims landgraab #sims 4 landgraab #sims 4 landgraab makeover #landgraab makeover #ts4 langraab makeover #nancy landgraab #malcom landgraab #geoffrey landgraab #johnny zest

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

hey hes my spirit animal too maybe we can co wriite this? i do have 2 ideas for spinoff that im both thinking of making fics!

I’ve never co-written a fic before and honestly I think I’d suck at it lmao. I’m shit with deadlines, shit at sticking to ideas, it’s always my way or the high way.

I love the idea of working with you to write a fic, since you seem really nice, and I’m always happy to work with others on things, but I’m just worried about you writing a fic with ME. I’m a monster.

[mbat]

writing is so nice, im enjoying doing it :]

#ive always had a writers brain but i never sit down and write until recently #which is fine im not gonna force myself to #its just nice to do yknow #i dont even care if my wriiting is bad or mediocre or even unreadable. maybe its good for all i know! im just enjoying it! #all i can hope is others are too. they seem to be! #so thats good. i love creating things sigh #my post

[1-800-i-ship-it]

what do you mean i have to draw my own graphs

#bluris rambles #sometimes i wonder why i choose to take handwritten notes #and then i remember how i had to draw graphs for prev econ classes so i did this so i wouldnt forrget #but its a frrickin pain labeling everything!! #goddammit #flashback to precalc where i had this graphing assignment that took me frickin like 3 hours to do #all graphs plus llabeling with rational funcctions and a lot of frickin fraction things #and asymptotes and also had to wriite that alll out under the graph #disgusting horrible nonono #alos my haandwriiting sucks ass lmao #gets worse throughout each lecture #waas taking notes on urban geography last week #and i almost read family as furry #thatss how bad it was and also i had like #no braincells left #anyway hope whoever is reading this has a nice day woo

[ryujin-zanba]

🎤 🔞 (His voice makes me feel things =w=)

🎤 — present mic

🔞 — smut

maybe it’s a surprise to people or maybe not at all given that he’s pally with midnight, but hizashi isn’t the bashful type in any measure and he’s pretty open about his kinks. what certainly isn’t surprising is his proclivity for dirty talk. actually, it’d be disappointing if he wasn’t good at it given his quirk, but far be it from hizashi to leave anyone disappointed; he’s a performer after all, and those who’ve had him prowl up their body and lean in close to whisper nasty little thoughts in a tone low enough that it’s practically a purr might even say he has more than one quirk, bc that trick has a 100% success rate

#hnn fuck thats a good point he does have a very nice voice #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #present mic #yamada hizashi #erasermic #bc ofc lol #my wriiting

[spacejunk-tm]

Quick Valentine's bakudeku drabble/flashfic or whatever you like??? 🙏🏽

Katsuki couldn’t believe it. 

At least, he wanted to not believe it. He believed it so much that it circled right around to being unbelievable again. 

He didn’t believe it as he listened to the concerned operator on the other side of the phone giving him the news, he didn’t believe it even as he agreed to their terms and got himself a plane ticket, he didn’t believe it as he waded through traffic and the congestion on the airport. 

Despite that high school was long out of the picture for the both of them, Izuku had gone and broken a bunch of his bones fighting a Villain on a nearby island. On Valentine’s Day. 

Great. 

It would have been annoying enough but Katsuki had become a hot item, him taking a plane on Valentine’s Day raised eyebrows and questions, despite a hat and sunglasses, people still pointed and the name “Ground Zero” bounced in the air. 

At twenty-five, Katsuki had gotten good at avoiding most of the press. It was easier to ignore them entirely than try to talk to them in the slightest. Izuku always wanted to talk, always put himself closest, but it took forever and Katsuki really didn’t have the time or patience. It was Valentine’s Day. 

“Going on a romantic getaway?” One asked.  

That question caught Katsuki; he wished that were the reason that he brushed them off to board a plane to a tropical island. He wished Izuku had the mental capacity to think that far ahead. Truthfully, Katsuki would be surprised if Izuku even remembered it was Valentine’s Day. 

Katsuki had always kept track of their anniversaries and special occasions, with their busy schedules, Izuku remembered two or three days late every time. He remembered suddenly, it was almost cute how he would be sitting in their kitchen casually eating dinner and then he’d nearly throw his chopsticks and exclaim what date it was and what he’d forgotten. It was cute, but Katsuki had taken over their schedule and would simply remind Izuku in the hopes that it wouldn’t happen. 

Katsuki hadn’t seen him in almost a week. Izuku had been overseas and slowly working his way back to Japan. He had been helping in crises and natural disasters because he was simply invited to help; Izuku had a hard time turning them down. 

But it left Katsuki, with his own pro-Hero life and busy schedule, leaving texts and voicemails after Izuku’s cheerful “leave a message after the tone!” that hadn’t changed in almost ten years. 

Katsuki wished it was a simple getaway, that they were leaving the reporters and their lives behind. That it was Valentine’s Day and that they simply got to treat it as Valentine’s Day. 

Izuku hadn’t gotten taken down too far from Japan and Katsuki was a bit happy that the sun was still up when the car Izuku’s parent-company had sent brought him to a large building that was as quiet as the island. 

At least there weren’t any reporters, Katsuki thought as he went inside of the building. 

He stated his business almost immediately, nearly shouting it at the staff as a demand to point him in the right and fastest direction. Instead, they pointed him right to Uravity who was still in costume. 

“Oh, you’re finally here!” She said. 

Katsuki looked into the empty hospital rooms, “Where is he?” 

“They put him in a private room,” she replied as she started to walk him down the hallway, “Ya know, for the publicity.” 

“Finally, someone with some decency,” he replied as he followed her. 

At least it would be quiet, he thought as he went with her through a set of doors and down another hallway. She told him an elaborate story of how Izuku got hurt but Katsuki didn’t need to hear it. He knew Izuku too well; Izuku had gotten in the way of some innocent person getting hurt and bitten off more than he could chew. Katsuki didn’t need to hear all the details of just how Izuku was hurt unless it was particularly clever. 

Given how calm the staff and Ochacko were, it wasn’t particularly new or clever. Some broken bones, maybe a concussion, some cuts and bruises. He’d be fine in a few weeks after Katsuki brought him back to their apartment. 

He was already planning the food and how Katsuki would get out of his own responsibilities at his own parent-company. They had long ago decided to go with different Hero companies but it caused problems with evening out their schedules. Some people knew the extent of their relationship, others thought they were simply good friends, others thought they hated each other. Katsuki never cared to correct them but it still caused problems. 

He went over lists and people that could cover for him as he blindly followed Ochako through the building and through the hallways to Izuku’s room. 

Rather than a room, Katsuki knew something was up when he saw that there was hardwood beneath his feet rather than the tile he had been seeing beneath his sneakers. 

It prompted him to look up and see that he was standing in an encased deck that stretched out toward the ocean. They were encased from the harsher winter temperatures by bolted-in pieces of plastic that made Katsuki feel like he was in a tube rather than at the edge of the ocean. 

Ochako giggled slightly before she turned around and went around him. 

Katsuki started to stop her but his eyes jutted down to the end of the dock. It came to an end where a makeshift room was glowing softly by pink neon and candlelight. Katsuki felt out of place when he saw Izuku stand up from a table and look at him, a smile on his lips. 

“What the fuck?” Katsuki said. 

“Surprise!” Izuku held out his hands. 

Katsuki turned to look at Ochako but found that she was just leaving through the door they came from. He looked around the beach, seeing that it was a cove that gave them a natural privacy screen to the rest of the island. 

Katsuki looked back around the dock, seeing the pink, white, and red decorations, Izuku was in a suit that was somehow lazy but Katsuki liked it.

Izuku’s smile wavered, his eyes looked over Katsuki before he slowly lowered his arms. 

Katsuki walked toward him and set his duffle bag down on the dock. “You’re not broken?” 

“Oh, no,” Izuku chuckled and patted down his lapel nervously; he had washed up well, he was cleanly shaved, his hair was tamed and combed slightly back, he had gotten it cut since Katsuki had last seen him. “I knew you’d believe it if I got beaten up again,” he explained with a nervous chuckle. 

Katsuki looked around the dock that had become a makeshift room. He could hear, see, smell, and feel the ocean but with none of the consequences of sitting out on it. The sun was halfway down the horizon, giving the ocean a golden sparkle that matched well with the candlelit dinner that was full of Katsuki’s favorite. 

“What the fuck?” Katsuki repeated, looking directly at Izuku. 

Izuku knitted his hands together, “Ah,” he tried to smile but it wasn’t working, “I was worried you’d be upset…You’re not the biggest fan of surprises after all but we hadn’t seen each other in so long ‘cause of our mismatched schedules and I couldn’t return to mainland Japan until tomorrow but it’s Valentine’s Day and a friend I’ve made here said that we could use his dock and make his vacation house to look like a hospital and Uraraka agreed to help call and then my friend called you and then you were on a plane and–”

“I don’t like surprises,” Katsuki said. 

Izuku looked down slightly, “Yeah.” 

“I don’t like being worried about you.” 

He wrung his hands, “Yeah…” 

“You’re tired,” Katsuki could see how freshly cleaned Izuku was, the haircut was to makeup for the fact that he had been working for seven days straight. 

He paused, “You…You’re not happy,” he hummed nervously. He started to move and shuffle things useless on the table, it was a nervous habit of his and he started to ramble off his apologies and his reasons for making it a surprise despite that he knew Katsuki didn’t like surprises. 

“Izuku,” Katsuki said. 

Izuku stopped moving, he looked up at him with surprise. 

Katsuki dropped his bag and reached out to Izuku’s face with both of his hands. He could feel the aftershave still fresh on his skin. It was all last minute but the gesture was too grand. Even though Katsuki wasn’t normally the type to like it, he liked it. 

He kissed Izuku hard and deeply. Katsuki hadn’t realized how lonely his mouth had gotten until it was put on Izuku’s. His lips tasted fresh and new and Katsuki felt like he couldn’t get enough. Izuku tried to keep up with the change of pace but it wasn’t too long until Izuku’s knees were buckling and Katsuki had to let go just to let him breathe. 

Izuku was bright red, his eyes were wide, his hair slightly askew. 

“I’m happy,” Katsuki corrected as he moved to the other placemat and sat down at the table. 

Izuku put down the plate and fork he had picked up in his nervous shuffling before he settled down into the chair. Izuku picked up Katsuki’s plate and started to put food into it, Katsuki laughed as Izuku couldn’t portion things right or keep everything from mixing together. 

“You’re awful at this,” Katsuki said when Izuku put the plate down. 

“That’s ‘cause you never let me do it at home!” Izuku replied as he started to plate his own food. 

“That’s because you’re awful at it.” 

Izuku looked at him sharply, “Are you happy or not?” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Katsuki replied with a smile, Izuku settled down once again and so Katsuki added: “You still suck at plating food.”

Izuku’s hand thumped to the table as he looked at Katsuki. As his hand moved, he didn’t remember to let go of the spoon he was holding and when it hit the table, the food sprung off of its end and splashed onto Katsuki’s face and chest. 

There was no time to move out of the way before the food planted itself on him. Katsuki moved back from the table and took a moment to be stunned. 

In that moment, Izuku started laughing. It was childlike but honest, he had to put his head down he started laughing so hard he was almost snorting. 

“Fuckin’ A,” Katsuki swore as he used one of the pink and white napkins to brush the food off of his hoodie onto the ground. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Izuku said through his giggles; every time he looked at Katsuki, he only started to laugh more. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes as he leaned over the table to take Izuku’s napkin to clean up his face. After a moment of wiping, Izuku leaned over and pulled a piece of chicken from Katsuki’s hair. 

“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku said. 

“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ first?” Katsuki replied. 

“Oh,” Izuku giggled and nodded, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Kacchan, I love you.” 

Katsuki’s heart had a fit of delight. Izuku tossed around the phrase so often that Katsuki had almost grown deaf to it. But with Izuku’s smile so bright and his tan skin alive with the golden glow of the sun, the candlelit dinner and nearly ludicrous decorations, Katsuki truly felt loved. 

“That’s it, nerd, I’m shutting you up,” Katsuki took ahold of Izuku’s face and braved the fire to kiss him again. 

Katsuki couldn’t believe how much he loved him. 

#bakudeku #kastudeku #bakudeku fic #valentines day #bkdk valentines day #long post #this turned out LONGER THAN I THOUGHT #and i wrote this in one go so please take it nicely #i actually wanted to wriite a v'day fic and put it on ao3 #maybe i'll use this and write more on it and post a little bit more later tonight hmmmmmmmmmm #they're dumb and GAY and BOYFRIENDS !!!!!!!!! #anon #thank u for this wonderful suggestion #i hope you enjoy it #along with your valentine's day

[minijenn]

Happy Birthday, Keys to the Kingdom!

Yeah as of today my own special little slice of hell known as Keys to the Kingdom has existed for the world to see for two years now. And its still going strong even into its second half (which I’m VERY much looking forward to!) I didn’t really plan a big huge celebration for Keys’ 2nd birthday (though ya’ll are more than welcome to do something special for it if you’d like, I’d love you forever if you did) But I figured it would go fun to go back through every chapter of Keys written so far and list my top ten personal favorites. So this is that list. Enjoy!

10. Chapter 30: Recuérdame: This was a really fun chapter if I remember correctly; its a nice mix between plot progression and the Coco stuff (featuring some of my favorite scenes from that movie, so playing around with those was great) but I also loved writing the first in story reveal for Xion and the fight between Sora and Xigbar while set to Imelda singing La Lorrona? Fuckin Iconic if you ask me, this one is great 

9. Chapter 31: Destined Reunion: This is mostly a very dialogue heavy chapter where not a lot happens but honestly I just really like a lot of the interactions in it; there’s a lot of Sora being salty towards Riku in here which tbh is kinda fun to write? But there’s also some soft Sokai stuff and towards the end we get some fun/foreshadowy interactions with our resident Goth Club so overall its a pretty neat one :3

8. Chapter 24: Where the Dream Takes You: So I really love the second Atlantis chapter? It veers away from the movie and also follows it just enough to feel unique in its own right and it has a lot of plot progression for the main story, especially in regards to our good friend the Lingering Will; I like the action in this one a lot and I really love the Trinity Trio’s little emotional talk with each other at the end, it tugs at my heartstrings every time I read it :3

7. Chapter 38: So This Is Love: otherwise known as Prom! Honestly this one is just a sweet, cute fluff-fest and it was so much fun to write the kiddos just relaxing and having a good time for a change. The Destiny Trio in particular just filled my heart with so many warm fuzzies here, especially towards the end when they really start romancing it up! Plus everyone in their fancy outfits was a delight to draw and to write about, overall its a grand time for all ^_^

6. Chapter 21: Depths of Despair; golly this one is just a bit ol drama fest but I think its a pretty great one. Sora spends the whole thing captured and tortured and poisoned and it really is just the biggest shift in the tone of the story so far because of that; Maleficent gets to be the center stage baddie for a chapter, Pete gets a bit of development, and we also get some strong moments from Kairi and Axel and the Restoration Committee, and the scene where Kairi brings Sora back from rage form near the end is still one of my favorites; overall there are a lot of little moments in this one that I love in here, its a really good one. 

5. Chapter 33: Song as Old as Rhyme: A great example of a Disney chapter where the overarching plot kind of takes more of the center stage. This one is a wild ride for sure with a lot of action and intensity, and its Not a very good time for our boy between him having a panic attack over Maleficent confronting him again to getting shot in the damn shoulder to being grounded by his boyfriend for lying it really does tear Sora down quite a bit but I looooooved wriiting all that so its high on my list for sure because of it 

4. Chapter 36: Return to Depart; this chapter features two really great scenes right at the start of it, Sora bonding with Aqua and soft Soriku fluff/angst hour. But then I doubled down by giving the boy an identity crisis between all of the different hearts inside of his and wooooooow I love how I wrote it, its trippy and wild and intense and dramatic; even to the end this one is great because we get our first hints of the bond between Sora and Ven and its soft yet solemn all at once and wow despite carrying some scenes from the game I still think this one is pretty standout 

3. Chapter 35: Distorted Reflection: Whoooooo boy this chapter is hella dark and kind of a mind fuck but golly if it wasn’t such a delight to write. Having Sora essentially hear himself list every fear he has and everything he hates about himself is some quality Character Study stuff; there are so many lines in this chapter I keep coming back to in more recent chapters and I really will continue to do reference it as we move along; it’s also pretty standout that Sora doesn’t even win against his phantom in this chapter, my original plan was for him to win but then I was like “no that’s not thematically right, the entire story is basically about him fighting a battle against himself that he can’t win so why should he win the literal battle against himself?” so I made it sad and had him lost until the Mystery Light came around to help him (I also love that entire part, its such a nice bit of comfort after all the angst this chapter brings). Overall, I love the deep intensity and feels of this one its a classic.

2. Chapter 22: Rise and Fall and Rise Again. Basically a biiiiiig ol bundle of hurt/comfort with some soft angst and romance mingled it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, this chapter really is just another big long character study for Sora and golly if it doesn’t have some of my favorite moments in the entire fic so far, despite those moments being quiet and understated and mostly emotional more than anything else; I also really love Kairi in this chapter and I love how it develops her relationship with Sora even more towards their eventual Relationship Upgrade. Its also the first chapter of Keys I got teary eyed while writing soooo ya know there’s that. 

1. And finally, my favorite chapter so far: Chapter 27: What Once Was Mine. Gooooosh this chapter has EVERYTHING. It starts out soft and fun and fluffy with some cute romancy moments, then it gradually starts getting more tense and it builds until basically everything’s gone horribly wrong and ends in a really sad kind of solemn place and we get such nice pairing between the Tangled stuff and the Keys overarching plot stuff. This chapter has so many exceptional moments but I really love the entire section where Sora finally comes clean to Donald and Goofy bc I’m destroyed by Trinity Trio feels every time I read it. Overall, I adore this one but I really do think that it’s very soon about to be outclassed by some stuff I have planned for Keys in the very near future :3

And some Honorable Mentions: Chapter 20: Immortals (mostly for its second half, its first half is pretty weak which is why its not on this list); Chapter 10: Sinister Whispers (aka the chapter where Keys finally starts fucking picking up the pace XD), and chapter 16: Unspoken, Unheard (a nice little Kairi character study)

And those are all the chapters of Keys I really love, feel free to drop me a line about what your favorites are (or even just your favorite moments, general discussion about Keys, things you’re looking forward to seeing, stuff like that). A HUGE thanks to everyone who’s stuck with Keys thus far, I can assure you that the best is certainly yet to come.... :3

#keys to the kingdom #jen writes #kingdom hearts #kh fanfiction #this list will look completely different in a year's time i can guaruntee it :| #there's some stuff that's coming up very soon thats gonna just blow several of these chapters completely off this list #moments ive been looking forward to since starting keys #hhhhh blessssssss #i cant waaaaaaait

[hecohansen31]

Writing Update

Hey guys,

I have come to a conclusion as of lately, and I’ll still discuss it with myself during these months but I just wanted you to know that after the month of October, I’ll stop wriiting any series of mine that aren’t ‘To Kill a King’ and ‘Not The Right Time’ (this one needs two or three chapters, so it is quite finished).

And after finishing those series, I’ll stop pubblishing on here.

This place has grown to be incredibly toxic for me.

I have given every once of my being, trying to write and pubblish things that might be interesting or reassuring for people, sometimes even forgoing a lot of things in my own personal life, and although I don’t want to guilt-trip anyone I just think that it is right for me to let you know that I have tried giving my everything to this blog.

Many times I stayed up till late or maybe ignored some relax to finish a drabble just because I wanted the person who sent it to have a nice day, just not to be even thanked.

I ended up being interested only other people’s thoughts and opinions, something that eventually brought me to forgo the real reason why I write and although I am reaching out for it again, I can’t help but move slowly and rockingly.

And this whole enviroment in which I am involved doesn’t help.

I came here to share my thoughts and meet people with whom I could share my passions, just to get used and discarded whenever I wasn’t useful anymore.

Just to get dragged in dramas in which I didn’t belong.

Just to get blocked by people to whom I never personally talked, without even being contacted about what I did wrong.

I am honestly very tired and although I can’t swear that I won’t continue on writing fics, after I finish those two series, I’ll try to move on my original stuff (I actually have a WIP to proofread and two other to start).

For now my plan is to try to finish asks between September and October and to have a small surprise for my birthday, and then I’ll continue the fics till I finish those two series, and then I’ll see.

I honestly don’t want to post my series on here, anymore.

I got a lot of my stuff ripped off, copied and stolen (which has become a new anxiety of mine) so I do think that if I have to pubblish I’ll try doing it on Ao3, although the feedback on there is minimal.

But I have some good friends on here, who have given me the best support.

I won’t delete the blog, because I am not able to, but I’ll focus my attention elsewhere.

Tumblr (and socials) in general are the worst thing ever for content creators, but I thought here it’d go better since it didn’t have an algorythm or something difficult to understand, but I guess that I have to learn that people don’t care about others.

Have a lovely day!

-Heco Hansen.

#personal #I just have felt bad in these latest days #I don't think that I'll ever stop writing #but pubblishing on here is truly a nightmare and I don't want to experience this anymore #the fact that people steal your stuff #people ask you to be on your taglist and then ignore it #people who are like 'I LOVE YOUR FICS' and then never ever give you feedback #I am honestly tired

[a2k-a-2ollux-kiin]

ii need 2omeone el2e to wriite my kiin fiic2 for me

He hasn’t talked to Karkat in two weeks. Karkat has been messaging him, of course, because Karkat knows if he doesn’t say something Sollux will assume he’s not wanted and fall deeper into whatever pit he’s already stuck in. But all of his messages are being left on read and Sollux sits and stares at the long chunks of gray text. He holds his head up by his temples, pressing the heels of his hands against the strange pressure point that he doesn’t know why it works to alleviate his migraines, he just knows it does and that’s all that matters.

And then Karkat is telling him that he’s coming over, and Sollux has an hour to get his shit together before Karkat is at his door with food. The idea of food sounds so good, filling up his stomach and replacing the carbonated caffeine that he’s been shoving down his throat so he can keep getting these projects out because, really, that’s all he has to show for himself. No one cares about who he is, as long as he produces shit. Except the shit doesn’t get noticed and he sits and stares and wonders what the hell he did wrong--

Before he knows it, 10 minutes have gone by and he can’t remember the last time he showered was, but his hair is gross and he needs to clip his nails. He drags himself out of his office and the smell of the rest of his apartment is noticeably fresher than whatever stale stench is hovering in the room behind him. He leaves the door open so maybe the AC can move the fresher air into the room and showers. It feels nice, and he wonders why he was putting it off for so long because he hasn’t felt this good in weeks and he almost just sits down in the bathtub to relish the warm water.

But Karkat is probably almost at the door so he drags himself out of the water and dries himself off and dresses in fresh clothes that smell nice. He stops and stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are red and he looks like he’s been crying. He doesn’t think he’s been crying, but he doesn’t know anymore. How long has it been since Karkat messaged him? Did he already knock and is thinking Sollux is dead on his floor?

He turned away from the mirror and went to go check. His hand was on the doorknob when Karkat’s pounding fist smacked against the door. He was so, so tempted to just stand there and worry Karkat a little more, just for fun, but it left a sick feeling in his stomach so he opened the door before Karkat could knock again. Karkat glowered at him, short and angry, but the scowl didn’t last very long when he saw the defeated look in Sollux’s eyes, so he instead marched past him into the kitchen without saying anything. He had two bags of food, and Sollux followed like a malnourished puppy craving affection from wherever he could get it.

Karkat started to unload the bags onto the kitchen table, and Sollux’s heart lurched when he realized Karkat had stopped at three different places to get Sollux’s favorite comfort food and his chest felt tight and when Karkat turned to look at him, waiting for him to sit so they could eat, Sollux did have tears in his eyes.

Karkat moved forward and set his hands on either side of Sollux’s face, having to reach up far to close the distance between them. His hands were so warm, and Sollux leaned into the touch, quietly whispering his thanks and apologies and his thanks again and Karkat promised him it was okay. It didn’t feel okay, because Sollux never returned anything, ever, he never did enough, but Karkat didn’t seem to mind. Not that Karkat would complain about that.

They stood like that for a long time before Sollux was able to get a hold of himself again, but Karkat didn’t let go of him, still holding onto his arm or hand even as they ate and Sollux couldn’t say how much he found the touch comforting and grounding and he wanted Karkat to never ever leave

#Sollux #Sollux captor #kin #kinning #kinnie #Sollux kin #Homestuck #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #solkat #Karkat #Karkat Vantas #hurt #hurt/comfort #hurt comfort #depression #moirails

[literacouture]

hi cherry! ive been following you and your writing on tumblr for a long time and i just wanted to say, congratulations on your new job as a game writer!! it makes me happy to see that people really like your work and that you're getting lots of positive reviews!! have you been enjoying the work so far? what's it like to write for a game?

omg you mustve REALLY been here a long time haha apologies for all the bullshit that u had to put up with, which is my entire sordid internet career O_O; 

but !! thank you ! i really really love it! like. i actually fucking adore my job -- it’s just a side thing for now, but I’m really hoping to take it to full time soon! :D 

i’ve been loving the work and the people i work with! its a bit different writing for a game than it is obvi just writing fanfic or like... idk for fandom or even just on your own; i’ve never actually written in script format before, so that was interesting to learn. other than that tho, i kind of get to really dig into what i’ve always been really interested in / good at, which is dialogue!!! 

like;;;;; idk i LOVE those like mile long descriptions that just wax poetic cause i really love poetry as well, but there’s something so satisfying about getting dialogue right, and in this particular genre of game writing, you really get the chance to do that! 

like there are moments where you get to write nice descriptions, but for instance, what i really really really fucking adored about wriiting cal WAS the back and forth and the freedom i got to do that? where they were like “insert snippy back and forth here” or “some comeback here” and i could just GO WILD, given that it served the plot and moved the story forward. so ALL the accumulated hilarious conversations, internet memes, etc etc i’d just collected in the back of my brain for the past like 20 years, i was able to capitalize on that and put it in! and it was so fREAKING much fun!!! 

i fucking love it; i could go on about how much i love it for many days. LOL 

obvi, there are times when like things ARENT rainbows; i have another project, that im working on for genius inc, and lemme tell yah thats been like....... pulling teeth from a tiger’s mouth every fuCKING week. but at the end of the day, its writing, and i love writing! so :D :D :D 

#sin with me #lovestruck #voltage #swm #cal north #writing #my writing #pls feel free to ask me things!!! about cal or #otherwise :D #Anonymous

[writing-in-verse]

The Angel and The Seraph

Another fanfic for you all; this time I decided to look at Jace and Kit’s first training session, and what it would be like to have two Herondale’s share the same space.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed wriiting it, as this one was fun to get right as it was a bit more involved than the last Fic I wrote (Remembrance of a Dead Boy, if you’re curious) so it was  nice step up.

Any and all feedback is welcome, but I just hope you love it and enjoy it and all that good stuff.

Enjoy!

The sun was setting in Devon as Kit Herondale stepped into the whirling portal, exchanging solid ground for infinite nothing and then, in mere moments, hard gravel. From green fields to the concrete jungle of New York, Manhattan to be precise, in the blink of an eye.  Kit absently brushed the blonde hair out his eyes as he took in the Institute rising before him. He’d come to master portal travel as well as any experienced Shadowhunter, but he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the suddenness of the method. The midday sun shinning off the Institute spires reminded Kit he’d just gained an extra five hours to spend how he pleased, if he didn’t crash around seven. America, his homeland and the place he’d spent most of his life right up until he moved to Devon with Tessa and Jem. He thought he’d be happy to back in the country, albeit on the opposite side to where his life took place, but he just felt a wave of sadness at all he’d lost here. His father, barely a body to speak of, and the Blackthorns, one he still felt the presence of at his side. He wondered how they were doing, and if Dru had tormented Julian to tears with her lockpicking skills yet. With a small smile and one final glance round out of sheer habit, he stepped through the main doors, on the hunt for Jace Herondale.

Jace was Kit’s long-lost relative and a living legend in Shadowhunter society, a common occurrence among Herondales if Tessa’s dead husband Will (another legend tied to the Herondale name) was anything to go by. Jace had sent a fire message a few months after Kit moved to Devon to escape the boy with the depthless grey eyes that kept him awake, alert, like there was some threat looming. The words to describe it didn’t come; all he could sense was the ache in his chest.

Kit shook the cobwebs out of his mind as he took the rickety elevator up to the main institute levels. He stepped into the corridor and reminded himself why he was here: to train with Jace. It was Jace’s idea; the letter stated he wanted to make sure all his kin were kept up to scratch, but Kit had heard the stories and knew Jace wouldn’t let any of the surviving Herondales come to harm. Kit was just interested to get more training and to connect with someone who was as close to a blood relative as he’d had since the death of his father. He had Tessa, of course, but she hailed from a different line, meaning they probably shared very little blood. Of course, she was over a hundred years old and had kept up with her own descendants as best she could, but Kit’s own ancestry had been hidden away in secret so not even the Fey could find them.  

He’d been so inside his own head, Kit had barely registered the mostly quiet halls as he’d passed the kitchen and come to the library, doors open slightly to allow Kit an unobscured view inside. He peered in, glancing around the room, but found even the vast shelves lacking much of the life he expected from the building that was now the centre to Shadowhunter government and society. He’d heard Alec Lightwood hadn’t wanted to uproot everyone too quickly, instead putting everyone where they could stabilise and maintain the infrastructure. Alec himself went between the Institute and the loft of Magnus Bane, The High Warlock of Brooklyn, to meet with the Shadowhunter-Downworlder Alliance. Alec was a status symbol, and someone Kit admired not just for being openly gay and dating the most powerful warlock in Brooklyn, but Kit for the work he did that had earned him the role of Consul.

Then there were the friends and family who supported Alec unlike any Kit had ever experienced himself, one of which was the only beacon of colour among the dimly-lit library; Clary Fairchild. Clary was the other prodigy everyone heard about, and the love of Jace’s life. Her long red hair shone from the chandelier’s candlelight making Kit understand the feeling of warmth and hope she resonated to the people she fought alongside.

She seemed in the middle of researching one thing or another, so Kit quietly left Clary to her studies and went in search of the training room where Jace was no doubt waiting for him. Along the way he passed a few Shadowhunters going about their business, but apart from a nod and welcoming smile, no one intercepted him before he finally found the entrance to the training room. He stopped just outside and took a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The training room was large, placed within one of the bigger spires that rose up out of the Institute’s main body. Smooth wooden floors with various markers vaguely reminded Kit of a sports hall, which would have been apt if it wasn’t for the large, church-like windows across the outer wall and racks of weapons of various shapes and sizes covering the other. Benches ran below the windows, allowing people to rest and spectate the forging of a warrior in real time.

Kit stepped towards the centre of the room, doing a half-turn as he scanned for his distant relative turned personal trainer but found the place empty. He kept sliding his gaze around out of the sheer appreciation of the room, running eyes his up into the rafters where he finally caught sight of a golden head of hair and matching irises staring down at him out of the darkness.

“Christopher.” Jace was leaning against one of the vertical beams, swagger practically radiating off him.

“Jonathan,” Kit replied, his blue eyes holding Jace’s blazing gold ones.

Without a word, Jace pushed away from his leaning post and without so much as a thought for his own safety stepped off his perch and dropped.

Kit’s eyes went wide as he watched him fall at least thirty feet to the floor. Kit expected to hear a loud crash, followed by howling pain, or just a crumpled heap as the dust cleared, but Jace hit the ground with a thud, bouncing on his feet once before stopping barely five feet from Kit.

“It’s Jace,” he said by way of explanation. His face serious but his eyes still held some of the humour, the challenge. Kit just stared, trying to come up with an appropriate response to…that.

“Kit,” he decided on. “So, the legend is true: Jace Herondale really doesn’t take fall damage. It’s almost impressive.” Kit returned Jace’s challenge, his blue eyes keeping up with the warrior’s intensity.

“Almost?” A look of mock offense appeared on his angular, handsome face. “Although what could truly impress Mr Light Show, making horses vanish in battle? Cavalry everywhere are quaking in their boots.”

“Better than your acrobatics; are you going to show a Raum demon ‘The Magnificent Feats of Jace Herondale’ and tightrope walk your way to victory?”

At that, Jace turned on his heel, giving Kit some breathing room, and went over to the weapons wall without so much as a retort. Kit had asked on several occasions what he should expect from Jace, and every time he’d been given the same answer: expect a Herondale. Kit wasn’t well-versed on what that meant but he was fairly sure Jace backing down wasn’t usually a part of it.

He about to speak up and apologise when Jace spun like lightning and something whistled past Kit’s ear, embedding itself in the wall behind him. He turned to see a throwing dagger hilt deep in the wall.

“Not just party tricks,” Jace remarked, and Kit saw the amused glee in his face at catching Kit off guard.

Not one to concede defeat after the first round, Kit asked, “As much as I enjoy watching you show off your angel-given gifts to the rest of us mere mortals, any chance we could do some practical training? Or are there any other contests you’d like to me to measure myself against?”

“There is one other way I’d like to compare your worth, but I wouldn’t want to make you feel completely inferior on your first day of training. I’ll spread out the humiliation, let you appreciate it bit by bit.” The swagger was back in Jace’s step as he walked towards Kit with a steel sword. “It’s blunt, but better to learn the real weight of a weapon. Plus, if you mess up, it’ll hurt like hell and I’ve heard pain is a great motivator.” He smiled innocently as Kit took the sword.

“I wouldn’t know. Although when you’re on your ass, take notes for me.”

Jace’s mouth curved into a predatory smile at Kit’s retort, he squared his feet and pointed his sword.

“Hit me.”

Kit swung. He’d had some prior experience with basic swordplay – enough to know how to handle the blade without cutting himself – so he was fairly confident he could do competently in his first session with Jace.

Kit had certainly miscalculated Jace’s willingness to go easy on his kin. By the time Kit’s sword found the space where Jace should have been he’d already dodged left, earning Kit a smack across the jaw.

“Too slow.”

Kit recovered and swung again. Jace dodged right and punched him again, this time across the shoulder. Pain stung Kit’s arm, enough to hurt and for him to nearly drop the sword, but not enough where he couldn’t recover quickly.

“You need to be faster,” Jace told him impatiently.

Kit lunged a third time, but when Jace dodged and went in for the counter Kit brought his arms up, absorbing the hit. Not one to waste an advantage, Kit attacked and earned a satisfying hit to the arm that Jace had brought up as defence.

“Clever,” Jace commented. “If you can’t be offensive use defence to your advantage.”

Kit made to attack again but feigned, baiting Jace into a dodge. Kit lunged for his leg, aiming to get him down, but Jace produced his own sword and blocked the attack. Steel clanged and Kit stumbled as Jace pressed the advantage, sweeping Kit’s leg out from under him. Kit’s eyes flashed with pain, and when he recovered Jace was stood over him, sword pointed at his neck.

“You know most people keep spare change on their person, where did the sword come from?”

“You should have spotted it,” Jace replied with a smirk.

Kit scanned Jace, cursing his lapse in observation, and spotted the concealed scabbard just poking out from his lower back. He���d clipped it on so the hilt would be hidden behind his leg, not over the shoulder where Kit would expect it.

“Any foe you’re fighting will attempt to outsmart you, even if it might inconvenience them. The advantage could be huge. A concealed weapon could win a fight, as your ass is now reminding you.” Jace moved the sword and held out his hand. Kit took it, hauling himself up onto his feet.

Jace looked at him, his eyes bright, and Kit realised Jace wasn’t just an exceptional fighter, but he was taking pride in the training, at being able to have an impact on his family in ways he hadn’t experienced yet.

Kit opened his mouth to ask for a rematch when the training room door opened, and a head of fiery red hair appeared cautiously around the door. “I hope the pair of you haven’t torn the entire room apart. I’ve been dreading the day two Herondales locked swords.”

Jace’s features visibly softened, his shoulders relaxed, but the swagger remained as he made his way over to Clary.

“I was thinking if you both want a break, I could order Chinese,” Clary said, looking Jace in the eyes, her love radiating so powerfully it make Kit want to give them some privacy.

He watched their slow, deliberate embrace. There was no wanting, no passion for more, it seemed to Kit as though they were content in the presence of each other, as if their world only made sense with each other in it. He wondered if this was what love was, this uncompromised happiness, and if he would ever get close to that. As he watched their perfect bliss, everything else vanishing around them until only they were left, Kit couldn’t help but think back to the slender boy who had pinned him to a wall with grey eyes as much as the blade in his hand. He thought about the mornings he’d see the head of black hair resting amongst blankets and books outside his door, how it was a sentry he never asked for, yet wouldn’t have traded for the world. Yet he did, he traded it all, all that love, for Devon.

We was pulled out of his thoughts about his recent mistakes at the sound of Jace’s clear voice echoing around the room.

“Sure,” replied Jace. “But you…” he said, pointing at Kit, “Have so much more to learn. You’re representing the new age of Herondales, and I won’t let you give the legions of hell the impression we’re slacking.”

“Oh please, you dropped all pretence of training at the mere mention of Chinese food. So much for that Herondale stoicism I’ve heard so much about,” Kit replied with a mock sigh and followed them out of the training room toward the kitchen.  

As they walked through the halls, Jace and Clary side by side in quiet contentment, Kit knew that even though they put the swords down, the sparring between him and Jace was far from over.

He smiled at the thought.

#Shadowhunters #jace herondale #kit herondale #clary fairchild #tsc #tda

[cruciatusxxcervus]

Ooc: Hey. It’s been a couple weeks. I won’t interrupt for long, I just want to ask for some feedback. I was hoping I would find the answer for myself but over and over, I keep wondering what’s the best direction to take things. I’ll put what I mean under a read-more for those who would like to help. 

So I’ve been ruminating on what I should do, and there are three options. Each has its positives and negatives. One is keeping this blog and keep RPing as Eden. She’s been my main RP character for six years, almost seven. I enjoyed writing as her, and everything from favorite songs to other things I’ve tried to use to take up my time reminds me of her and the story I so badly want to write for her. However, I know she’s a very dark character, with themes that might be too much for DBZ. I also worry if writing as her is also affecting how I act towards others. 

I thought about retiring Eden and replacing her with a new OC. I’ve been sketching and thinking about possible ideas. Maybe someone with a less dark backstory and personality might be more enjoyable to write with. The issue with that is after the different ideas I’ve dug through and pestered a couple friends about, I feel like I’d be most happy with an OC that is still a Kirinite. There would be some elements that would still be similar to Eden. It would be a different person, but I know the similarities might prevent her from being distinctive enough, thus would defeat the purpose of making a new one. 

The last thought I had was just letting this blog quietly fade out and stay out of the RPC. I love all the friends I made and the stories and memories we shared, and so badly I want to be back, but I’m scared. I’m scared of repeating the same mistakes, hurting people once again. I don’t want to be a toxic piece of shit that people feel like they have to be nice to. For so many months I’ve been insecure, felt like a burden, and I don’t want to affect others negatively anymore. That’s not fair for you. I still want to RP and stay in the DBZ fandom, but perhaps it would be better if I just kept those things to myself. Wriite private fanfics for just myself to enjoy or something. I don’t know. 

My question is: which do you think is the best way to go? I’ve debated on asking this because I know it’s not fair to ask my followers this, but I’m admittingly desperate for guidance and connection, if only temporarily. I don’t know what would benefit the RPC the most, and that’s what I am most concerned about. If either of these could help the community and help people feel at ease and enjoy being here, then that’s what I want to do. Thank you so much for putting up with me and my negativity. I know it’s not easy, and whichever I do, know that I always appreciated the wonderful privilege to chat and write with you all. 

#negative

[purplesurveys]

1101

survey by -lastcall

has anyone ever told you they would never leave, and did? Yeah, I’ve definitely heard that before.

do you worry too often? Yup, about every small and big thing possible.

do you still speak with the person you fell hardest for? Not anymore. I don’t know if we still will; it’s very hard to picture her entirely out of my life considering how valuable I continue to find the friendship we shared and everything we went through. But she made a big decision, and the whole fallout is her choice; if she wishes to reconnect, she’s going to have to do it all by herself this time. I’m not expecting anything any time soon, but she is open to do so if she wants to.

when you get old, will you live in a nursing home? I’m personally open to it. Where I live, children traditionally take in their elderly parents into their homes when they’re no longer able to take care of themselves, but idk when it comes to my own future, I think I’ll be fine in one as long as the facilities are top-notch and the staff are caring.

do you wear any rings on a normal basis? I have not worn a ring in years.

do you like getting pictures taken, or are you the photographer? I like looking at photos and seeing people’s memories, lol. I’m a terrible photographer, and I’m awkward in front of the camera. That’s why I don’t have a lot of photos of myself in general.

who has seen you at your worst? Gabie.

what/who makes you laugh more than anything? These days it’s Cooper and watching 2 Days 1 Night. As for a person...can’t really think of anyone. Hans, maybe. Or Angela.

do you remember who you liked this time last year? Of course. One year isn’t too long a time.

what color is your alarm clock? I don’t have one; the alarm I use is built into my phone.

do you look older than your age? I look considerably younger and get ID’d all the time.

what color is your hair? have you ever colored it? It’s black, and no I’ve never had it dyed.

does your family put up christmas trees during the season? As in, during the holiday season? Yes we do, but only one tree lol.

what did you ask for, for christmas? I was a little modest in the gifts I asked for last year because 1) I was already earning my own money and didn’t see the point in asking for expensive gifts I could afford anyway, and 2) the pandemic. I just asked for Fruittella, a bag of my favorite bubblegum, a corkboard, and Post-Its.

what car do you drive/plan on driving? I currently have a Mitsubishi Mirage, but I would love to own a Mini.

when was the last time you were honestly surprised? Monday when I watched Edge win the Royal Rumble match. I’m totally not complaining; he got his career taken away from him a decade ago so I’m more than happy he’s been allowed to be in the ring again and pick up where he left off.

when it is your birthday, do you have parties? No. My last party was on my 7th birthday...I prefer having intimate celebrations with close friends.

do you remember what you were for halloween when you were 8? I probably went as a pirate or something similarly generic. Didn’t care too much for Halloween as a kid.

what should you be doing right now? I shouldn’t have this tab open because I should be at work, lmao.

do you consider yourself social, or total hermit crab? I can be both. Things like this aren’t black and white. I’m definitely craving social interactions these days, though.

where did you get the shirt you are wearing? I have no idea. I think my mom got it for me just cos she thought it looked nice.

is there a promise you would risk your life to keep? I don’t think so.

doesssssssss ittttt botherrrr youuuuuu whenn peopleee wriite likeee thisss? If done excessively, maybe. Every now and then, not really.

when was the last time you sneezed? Earlier when I brought Cooper to my room.

how long does it take for you to get ready in the morning? ‘Getting ready’ doesn’t really happen in the Covid era anymore...if anything, I usually wake up at around 6:30, and then I either fall back asleep or try to properly wake up until 8, which is when I have to get up to start work.

look to your right, what do you see? I can see Kimi on the floor, and my window.

will you save this survey to your profile? :) I always save my surveys on this blog; that is why I have this blog.

have you ever been in a hurricane? We call them typhoons over here, but yes; a lot of them too.

when was the last time you gave advice? Idk, it’s probably been a few weeks. These days I’m the one who’s been needing advice, but luckily my friends have been nothing but supportive.

do you tell other people what you honestly think about them? If it comes up, yeah. It rarely does though. Occasionally, my friends and I will also get to talking about our first impressions of one another, or reminisce about past disagreements within the group and what we actually thought of one another when the misunderstanding was taking place.

are you wearing socks? Nopes.

have you ever played dirty santa? No. I’m not sure what this is.

what do you do on christmas eve? do you visit family? We usually visit family, but who we visit differs per year. For 2020, we spent Christmas at my mom’s cousin and her family’s place.

do you catch yourself thinking about the past/present/future the most? These days, the present.

do you have annoying neighbors? I wouldn’t say so. The kids are very loud when they play outside and it can be distracting while I work, but they’re kids so it’s fine and it’s actually great they still play outside in the afternoon.

what was your high school mascot? We didn’t have one.

do you remember who you last slapped? Haven’t slapped anyone other than my brother, when he did the same to me first two years ago.

have you ever back talked your parents? Yeah, I mean I’m an adult with my own thoughts and opinions, so.

do you stand up for what you believe in? Yes.

does you dad still live with you? I live with him, not the other way around.

when is the last time you were actually frightened? Last December when I was walking Cooper and his leash suddenly snapped. 10-12 years ago, back when he was a baby, Kimi was impossible to chase around the neighborhood because he liked to run and he liked to run fast; so I got legit terrified that Cooper would be a pain in the ass to catch as well. To my relief, Cooper only pranced around the street and kept looking back at me as if he wanted me to notice how well-behaved he was, hahaha.

why was the reason you last bled? I had just scratched the skin on my knee too aggressively.

how many times do you blink a day? bahah, kidding. Good. Because I have no idea lmao.

do you wear makeup, everyday? Nope.

whats your name, anyways? Robyn.

#survey #surveys