#been quite used to begging for it for much of my life in some fashion or another

[nana-au]

Best Friends Forever!

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Suguru’s bff and roommate. You know him like the back of your hand – and he knows you the same, if not better! Some people may think you two are too close, but they just don’t understand. When you have a date planned and need help picking out your outfit, Suguru’s your guy! ...What’s this? He doesn’t want you to leave?

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: minor mention of blood, mention of pet death, possessiveness, jealousy, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, making you beg, overstimulation, unprotected sex

₊˚ପ⊹ an: kicking and screaming and crying and throwing up and scratching my face I NEED HIM.

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

BFF! Sugu who’s been by your side since before you can even remember! You grew up neighbors and when you both went off to college you got an apartment off campus together. It was only natural to be with Suguru. He was the only constant in your life – your anchor. 

BFF! Sugu who is so protective of you. How could he not? You two experienced life’s firsts together. You were there when Suguru took a nasty spill off his bike. His tears were hot down his face as you stayed by his side. You used the water bottle you kept on your own bike to flush the blood off his knee, giving it a quick peck. “My mom always says a kiss makes everything better. Do you feel better Sugu?” He nods his head, wiping the snot off of his face with his t-shirt. He was there when you lost your first pet and even though you were preteens and everyone made you feel dumb being sad over a goldfish - Geto made it a point to hold a funeral in his backyard. He dug a small grave for it - picking out the perfect rock for you to write its name on to place on top of its resting place. 

BFF! Sugu who makes sure you’re safe. He would never allow you to pump your own gas. He’s seen the type of guys who prowl around the gas station close to your home. He’ll make sure you get to sit pretty in the passenger seat while he fills up your car. Don’t worry about the price – he’ll take care of it. He always takes care of you. 

BFF! Sugu who knows everything about you. He knows all your favorites. Favorite color, favorite season, favorite food, favorite tv show… there was nothing that you liked that he was not aware of. He knows about things you wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone else – trusting only your best friend. 

BFF! Sugu who is so so sooooo protective of you. Any guy he thought wasn’t the absolute best for you was quickly kicked to the curb. He’ll admit – sometimes the criteria was a little strict. The guy from your art class? His haircut was stupid. Shithead from your after school club? Believe him – he was a tool. Worst of all was the douche on your school’s baseball team. Suguru had quite the time getting you to see his point of view, but he didn’t dare say I told you so as you cried in his arms retelling the embarrassment of catching him cheating. 

BFF! Sugu who learns to relax in college. You were a woman now – you no longer needed his constant guidance. He would genuinely smile as you talked about all the friends you were making in your major. How funny your coworkers at the concession stand job you worked every football game were. The fact you had a date with a friend of a friend – your girl friend had vouched for him. He was a good guy. Geto was glad you had people looking out for you. He couldn’t wait to meet him. 

BFF! Sugu who helps you pick out the cute little outfits for your dates. You were so beautiful, that guy was truly lucky. But even his luck couldn’t match Suguru’s as you put on a little show for him – trying on every tantalizing option. 

BFF! Sugu who loved watching you dress up so much he bought you more. You didn’t even need a date to have a fashion show! He just loved seeing that color on you. Oh! – And don’t even get him started on the skimpy little dresses with the ruffles. They were made for you. He couldn’t decide whether your plump butt or your squishy boobs looked better hugged by the fabric. He had to use his large hand to hide the bite he gave to his bottom lip when your cute little panties peaked through the bottom of a particularly short one. “Maybe that one is good for around the house,” he proposed. 

BFF! Sugu who had to swallow his need when you begged him to rate your lingerie. “I didn’t realize you two were at that point in your relationship,” he would try to laugh off his distaste. 

“I’ve told him no to sex for so long, I’ve been thinking maybe it's time…” you trailed off. You played with the hem of your dress as you stood in front of Suguru on the couch. He was sunk comfortably into the loveseat, legs spread wide and one of his muscled arms stretching across the back of the couch. The other on the arm rest. “Ok princess. Let’s see the options,” he spoke.

BFF! Sugu who couldn’t make it through the first set. The white lace left little to the imagination, a black bow adorned above your cute mound. “You trying to make me sweat?” A dark chuckle broke through his lips. “Sorry?” you asked him, not hearing him correctly. How silly you were to think that just because he was a friend that made him any less of a man. A hot blooded man at that – with eyes that glued to your nipples visible through the thin fabric. “The dresses were one thing, princess, but this? Don’t play dumb,” his dark eyes were now impossibly black. You were staring into the voids that indiscreetly roamed your body. It was entirely silly of you to now try and hide yourself from his hungry gaze. 

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t let you leave. You were no match against his strong grip as he pulled you onto his lap. “You’re leavin’ me no choice,” he assured you, pushing you down hard against his thigh. You tried to push away but his hands on your waist locked you in. “No choice,” he reminded you. You swallowed thickly, realizing you were completely helpless as he began guiding your hips up and down his thigh. The rough material of your panties rubbing deliciously against your clit. “Sugu s-stop,” you begged him, all breathy and hot against his ear. “You want me to stop?” Of course! He was your best friend. You didn’t want him making you feel better than you ever thought possible by just rubbing your pussy against his leg. “But you look so cute like this,” he pouted at you, “Humping my thigh like a puppy. I’ll let go – but you better stop moving your hips,” he tutted at you. You didn’t have it in you to keep your eyes open to watch yourself continuously rut against him even after he removed his hands. It wasn’t your fault his muscled thigh felt more pleasurable than any toy you could ever buy. 

Geto had plenty of girls at your school talking about their experiences with him. You spent your entire teen years hearing about his ‘magical tongue’ and ‘horse dick’. For the majority of your life you had little interest in getting to experience that part of your best friend – that was until the bastard from the baseball team. The absolute snore fest he put on for your first time was jarring. Maybe you were so used to hearing how life-changing Suguru’s hips were that you had high expectations... 

No – you were not purposefully trying to get Geto to want you. He genuinely gave good advice when it came to what looked good on you. Ok so maybe you were pushing your luck with the lingerie – but Suguru was always so level-headed. It was scary how quickly he caved.

It was even more frightening listening to his taunts hot in your ear, “Why aren’t you stopping?” You couldn’t stop now – but you would. Just a little longer. You’d find the strength to stop soon. “Tell me you want me, or I’m stopping this,” he threatened and your form shook. “Please don’t,” you begged him. “Don’t what?” he lifted your chin, making you look at him “Don’t s-stop t-this,” you squeaked out.  

BFF! Sugu whose rumors were true. His tongue was magical. His hands flew down to your hips, helping you roll deliciously against the fabric of his sweats while his wet muscle was hot against your nipples. He used his teeth to pull down the fabric so he could taste your bare bud against his tongue. He suckled and licked your sensitive nipple causing your arousal to seep past the lace of your panties. You began to soak his sweatpants but he wasn’t gonna have you stopping anytime soon. He pulled your hips into tight circles against him, overwhelming your nub. His teeth nibbled at your nipple and you jerked up at the sudden shock. His grip was bruising and you wanted – no needed more. “Sugu.. more.. need more” you sounded so pathetic. 

BFF! Sugu who was left with little choice! His princess wanted more and more she was going to get. His head kissed your entrance, barely pushing in past the tip. You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders as he teased himself into you. “You think you can take me?” he asked you and you nodded fervently. He was thick and long – even his tip felt like he was tearing you in two. You wanted to be absolutely broken. “M-more Sugu,” you begged, trying to move your hips to sink down further. He kept you still – only allowing you to move if it was him dragging you down against him. Your slick was dripping down the rest of his cock, you were completely overwhelmed by the little attention he was giving you. One of his hands moved from your hips down to your clit, rubbing slow circles – barely ghosting above it. You were clenching on his fat tip and whining embarrassingly loud. He wanted to have you crying for his cock. He clicked his tongue at you, “I’m not convinced enough you want my cock.” He looked so unaffected as you shook, “I do! I need it, Sugu,” tears fell down your cheeks as you desperately tried to convince him.   

BFF! Sugu whose hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace. He had you pinned into the loveseat, head down and ass up. A creamy ring formed at the base of his unrelenting cock. Drool was seeping from your mouth and onto the couch, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pounding into that gummy spot that made you dizzy. “No one could make you feel this way,” he promised you, “this pussy was made for me.” His pace was bruising, his balls slapping against your clit. He pulled your hips up farther, making you arch your back. Everything was so noisy – the sound of you meeting his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling in and out, and his grunts each time he felt his tip kiss your cervix. Geto looooved watching you take him so well. Each time his cock disappeared inside of you, only to reappear as he roughly dragged out of you. He didn’t know if you were purposefully squeezing him each time his hips pulled back. Were you trying to keep him buried deep? “Your date won't mind if I leave my cum in you, right?” he teased you – knowing full well you wouldn’t be going anywhere after he was done with you. “Dripping out of your pussy at dinner,” you couldn’t fathom him being able to laugh right now. “What would you even tell him?” he was imagining the scene playing out in his mind, “My roommate thought I was looking a little empty. Needed to stuff me full,” His smile lazy thinking about how he was claiming you tonight. He was fucking your tight little hole deliciously, making sure you could never be satisfied by anything other than his cock. You pushed your hips into his, making sure he reached as deep as possible. “You want to cum, princess?” he picked up his pace – which you didn’t even think was possible – your tits bouncing at each thrust of his hips. You nodded, pleading for him to make you cum. “God – cum on my cock. Want t’feel you squeezin me,” the rough pad of his finger met your clit, helping your pleasure meet its peak. “I’m cumming, Sugu,” you cried out to your best friend. 

BFF! Sugu who wasn’t done with you once you came. You tried to claw at his hands on your hips, begging him to slow down. The tension in your tummy snapped, cumming undone loudly around him. He paid no mind to your pleas, “You can take more. You’re a good girl, I know you can.” He didn’t ever want to leave your snug pussy. He would fuck you all day if that’s what it took for him to feel satisfied. “Give me another, baby. Cum on my cock one more time. I know you can,” he was so filthy. You never had a guy dirty talk to you the way Geto was. He was demanding and unrelenting. It was alarming how much you enjoyed the filth leaving his lips. “How could you tell me to stop when she’s gripping me so tight – pussy doesn’t want to let go of me.” he threw his head back, “”S your fault I’m pounding you like this. I couldn't let you get away with showing me that little number.” The lingerie he was referring to was on the floor below you two, ripped into pieces from when he tore it off your body. He completely pulled out of you – leaving your pussy uncomfortably empty before flipping you over and folding you in half. He placed the back of your knees on his shoulder, wasting no time pushing himself back into you. The new angle took your breath away. His heavy frame held you down as his cock was unrelenting. When you looked down you could see his length slide in and out of you, your cute little pussy lips swallowing him whole. Your arousal coated his cock – all thick and creamy. You felt like you could pass out from the sight – not thinking it was possible to be so wet. His thumb reached down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. “C’mon baby. I’m addicted to the way you squeeze my cock. Let me feel you cum again. Need it, princess,” he begged. He was slowly losing all control. You were so perfect underneath him, taking him like the good girl he always knew you were. You were wrecking him. Your sounds were so cute – choking back sobs as he fucked you to another peak. You were begging for him to cum inside you. You wanted to feel him coat your walls in his sticky juice. “Gonna pump you full,” he promised you. “Gonna feel so good stuffed full with my cum.”

BFF! Sugu who can’t stand watching his semen leak out of you. You were completely fucked out – chest heaving as you laid on the couch. Geto was still holding your legs up, trying fruitlessly to push his juices back inside of you. 

BFF! Sugu who needs to make sure you keep all of it. He didn’t even wait for you to regain your energy before his thick fingers are deep inside of you. “Can’t let a single drop go to waste,” he tells you. He curls his thick digits, pushing against the squishy spot that makes you see stars. “No more,” you breathlessly say. “Just one more. Need to make sure it all keeps,” you are completely overstimulated. The feelings of his fingers are heightened by your two orgasms – which only makes you come undone even faster. His fingers are lightening fast and your pussy sounds like it's made of water. It’s so loud and wet and you just can’t help yourself from cumming again. You’re thrashing against his unrelenting fingers, crying loud enough that your neighbors definitely hear. “That’s it. S’good for me,” he’s emotional watching you come undone so many times by his doing. You were his. His, his, his. 

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t even have to tell you to cancel your date. You couldn’t pick your head up after he was done with you. You were staying home with him – where you belonged. 

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[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 莲花楼/Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Mysterious Lotus Casebook is a 2023 drama about a beautiful twunk who just wants to die of his chronic illness in peace, except that neither the dumbass purebred dog of a man who has decided they're best friends now nor the jock begging him for a rematch are going to let him go without a fight (in the latter's case, literally).

Also they ride around in a magical bamboopunk RV.

I have referred to it elsewhere as "the CW presents: Nirvana in Fire," and I stand by that assessment. (I orginally called it Tiger Beat Nirvana in Fire, before realizing that Kids These Days will not get that reference. Shout out to the other elder millennials in the audience!)

There's been a lot of English-speaking fandom buzz about this show, to the point where if you're in these circles, I'm sure you've heard about it before. I know I had by the time I started watching -- which left me largely unprepared for the actual viewing experience, because the parts of the show that fans talk about are not a representative sample of the show itself.

This drama can be a good time. It's fun to watch. It has some hilarious beats and also some emotional moments. It spent its not-huge budget very smartly, and as such is generally quite lovely to look at. As my League of Nobleman rec will attest, I appreciate raw materials, and this is a show that has some fascinating raw materials.

(Or some materials that need to get rawed, take your pick.) (Also, it's not my fault they didn't do a dramatically lit Fang Duobing shot so I could round out the trio here.)

You'll find some people out there who've gone real hard for this show, doing some deep analyses and getting really emotional over it. I don't want my gentle ribbing to give the impression that those silly fans are delusionally talking like the show's a five-star restaurant when it's really just a fast food joint. Not so! There's a reason it's captivated a whole lot of people! And in case you might be one of those, allow me to give you five reasons you should consider watching it.

1. This bitch

The main character, Li Lianhua/Li Xiangyi is probably 50% of the show's appeal all by himself. He's fascinating. He's gender. He's fashion. He's been afflicted with a substance we called "bitch poison" the whole time we were watching. He has many emotions. He cries a lot. He coughs up blood every other episode. Cheng Yi is putting his whole lianhuassy into this performance, and it shows.

I made the Nirvana in Fire comparison earlier, and I stand by it for a lot of reasons, but the truth is that he's actually much more Opposite Day Mei Changsu: Li Lianhua wants all this stuff to fuck off and leave him alone forever. He is not seeking vengeance, nor does he particularly want to Do Schemes, but Circumstances keep dragging him back into the thick of all this nonsense he thought he left behind when he (mostly) died ten years ago.

The thing is, he used to be a real dick back when he was a kid. And I mean a real dick. He was a dick to his chronically insecure adoptive older brother. He was a dick to his girlfriend with the personality of wet tissue paper. He was a dick to the handsome loser who liked his girlfriend. He was a dick to his followers. He was basically just a cocky little shithead who thought he was the best at everything -- and he actually was the best at everything, which just made it worse.

Li Xiangyi used to think everything (especially himself) was sooooo important, and now that life has massively kicked his ass, Li Lianhua had come around to the position that nothing is actually that important, so let's just all chill and grow vegetables. He doesn't want a rematch. He doesn't want to retake his rightful place as the head of anything. He just wants to pay his respects to the dead before he joins them.

Now will everybody please just stop moving into his house.

2. goof-ass jianghu nonsense (affectionate)

As I mentioned earlier, everything I'd seen about the show on Tumblr had still left me absolutely unprepared for what a silly ride it is. Because it's silly. Hoo boy, is it silly. My wife dubbed it "lace front Phoenix Wright," just to give you a metric for how silly we're talking. Ace Detective Fang Duobing never cross-examined a parrot, but I feel he came close.

This show has some serious goof-ass jianghu nonsense -- you know, the sort of stuff that's impossible and ridiculous, except everybody’s going to treat it like it's just a normal part of existence. Here's a short and certainly inexhaustive list:

mind-controlling bugs

other bugs that control the mind-controlling bugs

ex-conjoined twins

a grown-ass man who can compress himself into bitchy third-grader

grave-robbing societies with secret brag language

so much nonconsensual qi-blocking performed by poking people in the boobs, that can't be safe, everybody wear thicker shirts

magical crossdressing powers

a bad guy who looks like this

a princess who can get abducted and sex-trafficked and, like, nobody really notices? huh.

healing childhood paralysis by the power of believing in yourself

a ... hallucination pit? what was that, anyway?

so. many. mechanisms.

the equivalent of the "he's only mostly dead" business from the Princess Bride

a gradually lethal bookshelf

the strange amnesia everyone suffers from where a dude can cover maybe 30% of his face and render himself immediately unrecognizable to long-time friends and associates

The thing is: I think this goof-ass jianghu nonsense is a legitimate selling point. I found it so fun. I turned off my need for show elements to obey little things like the laws of physics, and I had a good time. It can be a very funny drama, in part because it knows how silly a lot of its shit is, and it chooses to go full speed ahead with a sincere heart. If you are down for some shounen absurdity, you are in for a treat.

However:

2.2. goof-ass jianghu nonsense (derogatory)

I'm granting myself a sub-point here, because this is an important qualifier for the previous point.

I'm going to assume, based on what I've seen from fan responses, that many of the people who really like this show actually don't like the goof-ass jianghu nonsense. They are here for the BL vibes (after all, there are three cute boys who alll have some intense emotions about one another), and therefore downplay all the parts that aren't that. I want to make it clear that this is not a bad thing to do. There are many, many properties where I myself fixate on a single element and toss the rest into the sea. No judgment here.

However, since this is a post written to convine you to watch something, I want to make it clear what you're going to get if you dive in. If you're one of those people who skips scenes and/or entire episodes when your ship of choice isn't onscreen, you're probably going to be doing that a lot here. (I mean, I can't imagine doing this, but Tumblr has taught me that fandom is a rich tapestry.) The bones are good, but the connective tissue can be questionable.

The main thing I wish I'd known before starting is that the mysteries are not the selling point. They are the celery that gets the cute boy peanut butter to your mouth. You, the viewer, absolutely cannot solve them; you're never given enough context or information to keep up with the detective lads, much less get ahead of them. Everyone does everything in the most convoluted way possible, to the point of comic absurdity. Finding out whodunnit is rarely that satisfying, because too often the culprit is Jianghu Steve, You Know, That Guy Over There With The Superpower The Characters All Know About But You'd Never Heard Of Before Thirty Seconds Ago.

The goof-ass jianghu nonsense feels like the place where the show I see fans talking about least lines up with the show that actually exists. And I think that's a shame, because I think the show that actually exists is actually a good time! It's just, you know ... silly.

3. Whenever Di Feisheng's not onscreen, all the other characters should be asking, 'Where's Di Feisheng?

This drama gets sold like it's the adventures of three guys together. (Hell, I kind of did it myself in the intro.) This is not the case. This is the tale of two guys who do most of the plot stuff near one another, and their occasional third, Di Feisheng.

This is a 40-episode series and I swear this guy's onscreen for maybe 15% of the time -- and for half of that, he's just off doing his own thing anyway. He disappears entirely for huge chunks of the series, which is a crime, because he is my absolute favorite.

He is the rare grumpy himbo. He doesn't just have resting bitchface, he has bitchface for all occasions. He somehow has bitchface even during the rare moments he actually smiles. He's got a whole traumatic backstory, but the traumatic backstory is not the reason for the bitchface. He's Just Like That.

(Important to note that the actor himself only slightly has a resting bitchface. Xiao Shunyao can look normal and indeed quite pleasant. He has simply leaned into it real hard for this grouch.)

The one -- one -- reason I can accept his being gone for so ding-dang much of the show is how often he re-emerges with perfect, hilarious timing. Thank goodness the show realizes how much comedic potential his character has, because his unexpected entrances are some of the best laugh-out-loud moments of the series. If the show had taken Di Feisheng as seriously as Di Feisheng takes himself, he would have been unbearable. As it is, he's an unmitigated delight.

While you losers were being heterosexual, he studied the blade.

He makes the perfect foil for both Fang Duobing, who's the human equivalent of a puppy trying to gnaw an elephant to death, and Li Lianhua, who just wants to be excused from this narrative. Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing are basically two dogs fighting over their favorite toy, and their favorite toy is Li Lianhua, who really wishes he weren't. Some of the most compelling and fun moments of the series are when these three losers are all together.

And these three losers are barely all together.

This show is Not Danmei. It's so Not Danmei that I had a tremendously difficult time while making this post finding either official images or screencaps with even two of them in frame at the same time, much less all three. It is, however, a Danmei Starter Kit. I mean, the tag on AO3 has, at present, 742 works in it (283 in English). That's just since July! There are years-old c-drama shows that have a fraction of that fan output! And I'm willing to bet a big reason why is how little the very intense boys with ridiculously compelling interpersonal dynamics actually interact onscreen.

But, I hear you asking, why would less of what the fans want equal more fan goo? Well, friends, that's exactly what the fan goo is for: filling in the blanks. And this here show has a lot of blanks. Look, I've made a very scientific diagram (that many people seem to agree with) about how this all works:

The Hump of Compelling Mediocrity is the place where the amount of stuff worth thinking about far outpaces what the show actually contains of said stuff textually. It is the ideal location for imagination adventures.

Di Feisheng and Li Lianhua's relationship in particular lives right in the middle of that hump, what with the huge gaps in their backstory and all. They are a pair made entirely of unanswered questions. What the hell is going on there? What's their whole history, beyond the big fight? Why are they like this about one another? The show refuses to say. Whatever you imagine, you're correct. Now go tell AO3 about it.

interlude: God's perfect dipshit

I feel like I'm engaging in Fang Duobing erasure in the rest of this post, since he's not at the tip of any of the points I'm making, so I'm going to add a picture of him here, because I love him and want to pinch his perfect little cheeks.

You know what I am shocked by? How the MLC/DMBJ reincarnation fics apparently have not taken hold yet. I give it another two months.

4. IT HAS A DOG

FOX SPIRIT, MY SWEET BABY

'You mean the dog gets a whole selling point to himself' yes the dog gets a whole selling point to himself, because he is a very good dog and a very good boy (and his actor is a very good girl)

Apparently he has a whole backstory in the novel that never gets included in the drama, including an explanation of why he's named "Fox Spirit," if you feel like going and reading up on that.

Sadly, Fox Spirit is in the show even less than Di Feisheng is, and that is a crime, because he could have solved all these silly human mysteries in thirty minutes flat, Wishbone-style.

Dogs are so good.

5. One bad, bad girl

Do you like an unhinged villainess? Someone who's been sucking down Crazy Juice since beat one? Because oh boy, this show's got one of those for you.

Jiao Liqiao wants two things: to rule the world, and to make Di Feisheng her pretty little housewife. And whomst among us does not understand these two impulses?

She's not even the Big Bad! She's mostly just Di Feisheng's personal nightmare. She is the type of woman for whom the phrase "he's just not that into you" was coined. You've got everyone around her telling her, honey, I don't even think I've ever seen him look at a pair of breasts, while she's already planned their whole wedding menu and reserved the venue.

She has spent the last ten years of Di Feisheng's extended vacation making sure she's the one who's actually in charge, functioning as the point person for all the other evil schemes going on. Instead of handing over the reins upon her himbo boss' return, she's just going to keep doing what she's good at. As long as he keeps doing exactly what she wants him to do, she's gonna let him do it. If he gets out of line, well, there's always Plan B (the B stands for Breaking all of his tendons and making the world's surliest RealDoll).

I love the fact that she's so obviously evil, and he can't see it. To a certain point, it's not his fault -- everyone who serves under him is pretty obviously evil, so that doesn't make her special. But she's real evil even above and beyond that, and his dumb ass can't stop thinking about Li Lianhua long enough to notice any of the hundred or so knives she's aimed right at his back. He's so uninterested in her constant advances that he doesn't register how wanting to fuck someone and wanting to overthrow someone are not mutually exclusive desires.

(Was I bothered throughout most of the series by how her lipstick should be a little more crimson and a little less coral? Yes, but I'm not going to hold it against her. She's busy doing evil stuff. She'll get over to the nearest Jianghu Sephora and restock one of these days.)

While the show occasionally sidelines or straight-up forgets about a lot of its supporting characters for several episodes at a time, it never forgets to check in on what Jiao Liqiao's up to. Claws out, hair done, she is at all times a constant glorious, scenery-chewing menace with excellent taste in terrible men. Absolute legend.

Bonus: These two sluts

They don't get to be a full point because they're not nearly in the show enough, but just look at them. This is peak male character design. Slutty undone hair and slutty bare forearms, be still my bisexual heart.

Going to give it a try?

iQiyi's got you exclusively, baby.

Have I sounded a little defensive in this rec? Yeah, probably. It's just that I know there's a big and pretty intense fandom out there for this already, and I feel like a jerk coming in and being like "sure, it's fun!" when people are posting about how it made them cry for weeks. I want to be clear that that's not a bad reaction to have, while at the same time also being clear that that's not the reaction I had.

I might not even have written this rec, had I not been nudged to -- not because I don't think it's worth watching (I clearly do!), but because I don't know how much help it needs from the likes of me. There are plenty of other evangelists out there that'll give much more enthusiastic recommendations (like this one).

But the truth is that not every show has to be a heartbreaking work of staggering genius to everyone. I watched the show, and I liked it, and I had a normal time.

I also think there's something to the way I watched it, which was: one episode per day, schedule permitting, such that it took nearly two months for me to finish it. (And before you think I singled MLC out for this, this is actually how I watch most c-dramas.) I bet binging it is a way different experience, one where what rises more readily to the top is the tragic throughline of Li Lianhua's whole deal. If you're inclined to skip things not immediately germane to your points of interest, this is definitely the show to take at a solid run.

I actually paused in the middle of making this rec and made the one for the Blood of Youth, because the two invite comparisons: jianghu tales with chronically ill protagonists, some imperial bullshit going on, pretty boys with swords being weird about one another. Mysterious Lotus Casebook did not grab me as hard as the Blood of Youth, because MLC went for a more understated take on all its nonsense, instead of shooting completely over the top, which is how I prefer my nonsense (as the record will show). If you take your silliness with a subtler flavor, this could be the perfect thing for you.

Maybe you'll wind up being one of those people who gets their whole insides totally ripped out by this drama! But even if you don't, you're probably going to have a good time watching it anyway. And really, what more can you ask for from a show than that?

Peace, nerds.

#mysterious lotus casebook #莲花楼 #lotus boys #three virgins in an rv #rec post #i made this

[harryscherrypie]

Scared? Of him?

Harry Styles x fem!reader - can be read as best friends or as lovers (not specified)

summary - People on TikTok seem to be slightly scared of long-haired Harry, thankfully for them, you have some very incriminating proof that he wasn't scary at all.

warnings - fluff, nothing else, slight anti-larry talk? Is that even a warning?

wordcount - 2k

a/n - this popped into my head because I've been seeing these videos on my fyp, they are fun. I hope you liked this little thing I quickly put together.

---

Everyone had a little past time to get through the boring hours while on tour. The past times went from the classics like crocheting and knitting to less traditional ones like rock painting, all of the band members had something to waste their time with.

When you went on Harry’s first tour with him, you found out that having a pastime was something necessary. You spent many hours at soundchecks or just sitting around in the dressing room, waiting for something to happen. Back then, you picked up on bullet journaling. It didn’t stick with you after the tour, because you didn’t have as much time as you used to, but you still kept the journals you filled and went through them when you were feeling nostalgic.

Your past time this time around wasn’t something you were proud of. While on the first tour, you could use the time to be productive and creative, this time, you just scrolled. You knew about TikTok for a few years. You never joined on because you knew you would stumble upon people who would hate on you, and you didn’t need that kind of negativity in your life.

But after all these years you finally gave in and downloaded the app. At first, the things you saw didn’t entertain you. You couldn’t spend more than 10 minutes on the app before you exited it out of boredom.

This was around the time of Harryween and you really wanted to see what people thought of both of Harry’s outfits. You gave in and searched his name in the search bar. Thousands upon thousands of videos popped up, mentioning Harry’s name, which even after years of him being famous, still made your head spin.

Since then, Harry has been one of the main topics on your fyp. Along with film edits, fashion, recipes, memes and travel montages, his face appeared quite a lot. At first, you weren’t at the One Direction side of the Harry side of TikTok, but soon after, the videos started to appear too. Edits, conspiracies, rankings, and to your dismay also Larry videos, you name it all.

After a while, you started noticing similar videos, to your absolute horror, calling Harry with his long hair scary and terrifying. You couldn’t wrap your head around that. Your Harry scary? Absolutely not.

You were friends since you were 12 and you were with him through all of his yearly glow-ups, which means also his long hair era. You could remember a lot of things from those years, with them being one of your favorites. He wasn’t scary. Never.

He was always the sweetest person you have ever met. Sure, he might’ve looked a bit more macho than he does now, but he compensated with his actions.

One of your fondest memories is teaching him how to braid friendship bracelets while you were on the boys' tour bus.

“Harry, don’t forget, this half is going to be done with the backward knots, it’s the background so we won’t need to do anything else with the strings yet,” you reminded as you hiked up the first string from the right to the top of your finger.

You were teaching him to make little heart friendship bracelets, which he begged you to do for quite some time. You picked up this hobby back when you were in primary school when all of your friends came back from summer camps and learned to make them during the summer holidays.

“Okay, so first, I do the chevron at the top of the heart through the whole length and tie the middle strings together to connect them to the bracelet,” he clarified and you nodded, muttering a ‘that’s right,’ as you started to braid the bracelet.

Things got a bit complicated when you got to the top of the heart. Harry started to mix up which sides to do which knots, and where to move the strings. You were almost done with your bracelet, while Harry was only on his second heart.

When you tied it finished, you looked over at Harry and you laughed under your breath. He sat on the couch, hunched over the coffee table with his hair falling into his face and his tongue sticking out in extreme concentration.

You sneakily took a picture and a short video of him before you took the hair band from your wrist and started tying his hair back, out of his face, into a neat bun at the base of his neck.

“You are doing great Haz,” you smiled and he shook his head.

“My fingertips are burning, why is it so hard?” He whined childishly and you chuckled at his antics.

“I’ve had a lot of practice over these years, if you practice a bit, you will get used to it, and it will get easier to grip the thread as well,” you explained and he nodded his head.

All of a sudden, he leaned closer to you and laid on top of you, pinning you to the couch with his body weight.

“I think I deserve a small nap, don’t you think? I’ve been working so hard,” he mumbled as he nuzzled against the collar of your shirt.

“Sure love, take a nap, I will be here,” you smoothed a hand over his hair, scratching his scalp lightly and he keened into your touch, making you smile.

---

You had many videos to prove that Harry was still a big sweetheart, even with long hair. Whether it was him cooking you a midnight snack while you were tired, wearing a fluffy hot pink bathrobe with a sheet mask on his face, or him jumping up and down around your living room when he got the perfect score on the random demo of Just Dance on your old Xbox.

The more videos you saw, the more you wanted to post a video of him back in those days. You knew the videos weren’t malicious or making fun of him, but you had a soft spot for that era of Harry, maybe bigger than for the rest of his eras, and you needed to defend him and prove, that he actually wasn’t scary.

You brought it up to Harry one night while you were laying in his hotel room in Amsterdam, watching some random Dutch show on the telly.

“What would you think about me defending your long hair era, hm?” You asked absentmindedly as you massaged the palm of his right hand and fingers to help with the soreness of it and with the bloodstream.

“What do you mean?” He asked humorously as he looked away from the screen to stare at you intently.

“Well, I’ve seen a lot of videos on TikTok about you with your long hair, that you were kind of scary sometimes, and I have a soft spot for that era, you know that,” you explained as you kept digging your fingers into his flesh.

“Whatever you want love, just show me the videos you want to post, just in case,” he shrugged and you sat up beaming at him.

“Really, I can?” You smiled and he nodded.

“Of course, I don’t mind,” he smiled. You threw yourself at him, tucking yourself into him and squeezing his waist in a happy hug.

“Thank you, thank you,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt.

“You are welcome love,” he smiled.

And that got you here, ready to post your first, and probably the only TikTok ever.

After consulting with Harry, you picked out 3 short, but sweet and not too private snippets of Harry with his long hair.

The first one was the longest.

---

He was sitting in front of the computer with a youtube video pulled up with a mess of hair ties, bobby pins brushes scattered around him.

You slowly approached from the back, capturing him as he messily tried to dutch braid his hair, now that it was finally long enough for him to be able to do that.

“You having a bit of trouble there sir?” You asked and Harry jumped slightly, dropping all of his messily braided hair from his hands.

“Noo, you made me drop it, I have to start again,” he pouted and your voice could be heard snickering from behind the camera.

“If you wouldn’t been mean to me earlier, you wouldn’t have to do this,” you pointed out and he slouched his form in defeat.

“But you were really, truly pulling my hair,” he pouted.

“I know, but if you didn’t have stupid comments, this wouldn’t be happening,” you teased. He went quiet for a while before he made grabby hands at you. You walked closer to him, finally having enough of teasing him.

“I’m sorry I said I could braid it better than you, I now know the error of my ways,” he mumbled against the plush of your stomach and buried his face against the soft fabric of your shirt.

“Okay mister, now let me braid your hair, otherwise you will get it all matted and tangled if you continue like this,” you pushed him back gently and he turned around with a dopey smile on his face.

That was where the clip ended and another one began.

---

This one was set on the old tour bus. You and Harry were squished in Harry’s bunk with the curtain shut. The camera faced the two of you, showing your faces, which were scattered with star-shaped pimple patches and under-eye patches on your smiling faces. You had a habit of sometimes recording little vlogs at the end of the day and making a short summary of the last 24 hours.

“We visited the city today,” Harry cheered quietly and you nodded enthusiastically.

“We went to the louver and the Eiffel tower, and walked around the pretty streets,” you gushed and Harry smiled at you.

“Well, none of those were more beautiful than you, my dear,” he joked. Even though the sentence.

“Shut up and don’t talk too much because the star above your lip will fall off,” you put a finger against his mouth and he didn’t waste time and licked it.

“Eww, Harold,” you shrieked and immediately exited the bunk with a thud against the floor.

You flipped the camera and the screen showed a pouty-faced Harry as he reached his arm out, trying to get you back to the bunk bed.

“Come back, please,” he pleaded.

“Fine, but don’t be a disgusting pig, or I’ll leave and sleep next to Niall,” you warned and Harry nodded his head, showing he completely understood.

“Good,” you mumbled and ended the video.

---

The picture cut into the third little video of you two sitting in front of mirrors in a dressing room for an event, you don’t even remember the name of. The video showed a frowning Harry as he looked down at his lap.

“Don’t frown,” you scolded jokingly and he looked up at you.

“I wanted to paint m’nails,” he murmured and you shook your head.

“I know bub, how about we paint them when we get back to the hotel hm?” You proposed and he nodded vigorously.

“That sounds good, we can even get matching colors,” Harry’s eyes lit up as he sat up. The hairstylist behind him tapped his shoulder to say that he should settle back down. He did as she asked, but a happy smile still played on his lips.

---

You looked over the videos edited together at least a hundred times before you went on TikTok and started to record the beginning of your video.

“I’ve been hearing a lot of people saying that long-haired Harry was scary. I don’t agree and with Harry’s permission, I want to show you 3 little videos of him, after which you can’t look at him and see anything scary. Here they are,” you smiled and cut off the beginning. You edited it together so it didn’t have any mistakes and posted it with the caption.

“He was the moment, I miss him :(”

And now that you’ve created chaos on the internet, you turned off your notifications and went to cook some lunch for Harry and you.

---

I hope you liked this one, I had so much fun writing this, so it would be awesome if you followed, reblogged, and liked, it would be very appreciated.

Thank you for reading <3

#fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #my writing #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction x reader

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias/Trent Alexander Arnold x Reader - Dark Rivarly Part 4/15

Part 5 and 6 are already out on my Patreon for FREE!

Reader is Trent Alexander Arnold's twin sister. The two have been inseparable since childbirth, more so now when Reader is fresh out of university looking for a job, crashing at her brother's place whilst doing so. One day Reader gets a job offer that she cannot refuse, however it would mean working for her brother's biggest rival in football, Ruben Dias.

Enjoy!

"You want me to be your what?"

"Stylist." Ruben repeated.

The shop was supposed to be closed as the time was currently fifteen minutes past nine. But apparently Ruben had sent for you earlier that day, however there had been some miscommunication between him and his assistant, ultimately leading to Ruben returning to Grandma's shop, looking for you personally.

"I'll pay you twice as much as you're getting here." He said. Clueless to the fact that Grandma wasn't paying you at all, working you like a slave.

"But why me? I'm not a stylist." You asked, still shook from the way he had barged into the shop, surprising you in the dark.

"Look, I'm in a bit of a crisis. My stylist just quit on me." He explained.

"She did? Why?"

"He actually. And I guess I sort of fired him."

"Oh. And why is that?"

Ruben looked to his feet, hiding his blossoming cheeks. "Well, after my appearance at the award ceremony in Portugal the other day. People..." He coughed. "My teammates to be specific, started calling me the leprechaun of Manchester City."

"Hmm. I wonder why?" You smiled.

"I'll admit that going with the green suit wasn't the best fashion choice I've ever made." He nodded. At least he was able  to see the funny side of it. To you Ruben had initially come off as someone who couldn't take a joke. Like his assistant for example. "I should have listened to you when you tried to warn me. But that's why I'm here, to listen to you, as my new stylist."

"I see." You said, folding your arms. You began circling him like a shark. "Even though I have no experience?"

He shrugged. "You seem to have enough fashion sense."

"Right."

You were currently wearing blue jeans and a Levi's t-shirt, complemented with a pair of run down sneakers. Ruben must really be desperate for a new stylist. You wondered how you could use this in your favor.

"And you didn't freak out when I came into your store the other day. Most people would have begged for an autograph or a video of me giving a shout out to their business. You didn't ask me to do any of that."

"Right." You nodded. In the back of your head you were laughing. "So you need someone unafraid to tell you like it is. For example when you make horrendous fashion choices and so on?"

"Exactly." He nodded. "I need someone just like that. I've worked with so many people that call themselves professionals but just end up kissing up to me. It's money wasted on my side, since I get people kissing up to me for free every day."

"Alright big boy, enough about your complaints of being rich and famous."

Ruben frowned. "I wasn't complaining."

"No?" You looked at him skeptically.

The corner of his lips twitched. "Okay, maybe I was complaining a little."

You chuckled.

"So this job offer, what else does it include?"

"What do you mean?"

"Beyond my salary I mean. What are the other benefits?"

"Well, you get to come with me to all of my events, football games and such."

You rolled your eyes.

"What? You don't like football?

"It's not that, I've just had enough of it in my life."

"Because of your brother?"

"What?" Your heart jumped.

Ruben laughed at your startled reaction. "It's just that when you mentioned him. It just seemed like he is a very passionate Liverpool fan."

"Right, a fan." You chuckled. "I guess you can say that."

"Yeah, some people get like that. I say it's bad for the sport when people get too personal about it. At the end of the day it's just a game."

"Tell that to Grandma." You muttered.

"What?"

You perked up "Nothing! So when can I start?"

Ruben's face lit up. "I'll have my assistant send a car for you tomorrow. I need to shop for a new wardrobe after firing my former stylist. I can't trust to wear anything he's made me buy."

"Hold up." You paused. "You're shopping for a whole new wardrobe. Like entirely new clothes?"

Ruben nodded. "Even socks."

"Right. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I'll see you tomorrow..." Ruben stepped up to you, offering his hand. "I didn't get your name."

Heat rose to your face. "It's Y/N. Y/N, Arnold."

"Nice to meet you Y/N Arnold, I'm Ruben Dias. Your new boss."

A thousand thoughts roamed through your mind, firstly how handsome Ruben looked up close. However you quickly shook that thought away. It was a dangerous thought. A thought that could lead to something messy. You wondered how Grandma would take it if you quit working at the shop. Technically you wouldn't need to quit, but you couldn't tell her that you were working for Ruben Dias, a Manchester City football player. What would your family say? What would Trent say?

Trent....

He would be outrageous. Betrayed to the bone, just like he betrayed you. The thought amused you, sincerely because it would be the ultimate revenge. The perfect revenge.

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

"Look at her Ruben, she's too young, too inexperienced."

"She's perfect Miranda."

Less than twenty-four hours later, a car was sent to pick you up from your grandmother's address. You were taken to some obscure boutique in Manchester that was highly praised for their men's couture. Ruben named his budget and left you to it, whilst he and his assistant sat back discussing your arrangement as if you couldn't hear them.

"It's a gamble Ruben, if something goes wrong she'll...."

"It won't." He said sternly. You were surprised how much he was pushing to keep you, even though his assistant clearly thought otherwise. "Trust me, she's the right person for the job."

"I'll believe it when I see it." His assistant muttered. Just then you came baring a mountain of clothes.

"A little help." You groaned.

Ruben stood, unhanding you the many items. You had gone all out, picking out outfits for every occasion, casual and formal.

"I guess I better try these on." He said.

"Yes, and remember, black can never go with blue, nor red with white."

"Got it." He nodded and disappeared into the only dressing room in the shop.

"Ruben might think that this is a good idea, but I don't." Miranda, Ruben's assistant said.

You sat down next to her.

"Hiring a young girl like you to be his personal stylist can only end in heartache and I'm not talking about my heart or Ruben's."

You pondered her words and thought carefully how to respond. "I'm Y/N, by the way. I don't think we were probably introduced that day, you mistook me for my colleague Jennifer."

Ruben's assistant looked down at your outstretched hand as if you were offering her a shot of poison Ivy. Either way, she was too professional not to shake it. You startled her with your firm grip, making her meet your determined gaze. "I take it the term personal assistant, doesn't really require me to have a personal relationship with whom I'm working for. I'm only here to do my job and go home, no?"

His assistant searched your face, eyes narrowed. A sly smirk then twitched the corner of her lips. "That would mean a job well done, yes."

"Good." You let go of her hand. "Then we're both on the same page."

For you this arrangement was strictly business. Strictly revenge to be exact. There were no other strings attached.

"Yeah, this is what I'm talking about."

The curtains to the dressing room flung open and Ruben stepped out wearing a leather jacket, gray turtleneck and a pair of dark jeans that fit him a little too well.

"I like this look. Good job Y/N."

"Pleasure is all mine." You smiled.

His assistant stood. "Shall we take some pictures for your Instagram?" She pulled out a small camera out of her purse. A Canon camera to be exact, with the ultra lens. What seemed odd to you was perfectly normal to Ruben, who followed his assistant out of the shop and onto the streets. He began posing in front of the camera, leaning against a brick wall, whilst Miranda snapped a couple of shots.

"Are these for Ruben's Instagram?" You questioned.

"Yes." He answered, since Miranda ignored you. "People would love to see the outfit of the day, it's also the fastest way to get a response, see if you've done your job well." He winked.

You were still frowning. "Why aren't you smiling?" You asked.

"Huh?"

"In any of the photos. Why so serious?" Your words made him chuckle just as his assistant snapped a shot. Miranda groaned as she looked at her camera, examining the image.

"What? He looks good." You said, peering over her shoulders.

"He looks unprofessional." She said, "The brands that Ruben is working with won't want him beaming at the camera like a foolish boy."

"I bet the fans would love it." You said, to which Miranda turned to you with the nastiest of glares. Luckily Ruben appeared behind the both of you, his attention drawn to the image of him beaming like a foolish boy.

"Keep it." He said. "Y/N is right, the fans will love it."

You had the sudden urge to stick your tongue out at Miranda, however you managed to contain yourself, turning to Ruben and bowing your head with courtesy. The way he was looking at you, a stupidly boyish smile on his face, told you that doing your job was going to be harder than you thought. However it was all for one cause, to make Trent pay for what he had done.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #ruben dias x reader #football angst #ruben dias imagine #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #liverpool fc

[charleslee-valentine]

Remember my trans Drayton fic?

Well now it’s got a prequel!

dedicating this to @lavenderbones13 who inspired me to pick this back up!

______

Word count: 3,332

Ship(s): Lefton (Drayton Sawyer x Boude “Lefty” Enright)

Warnings: period typical (1930s/40s) transphobia and homophobia, implied child abuse, alcohol use, very mild sexual themes, pregnancy.

—————

Lefty can tell his love has a secret.

It started with the fighting. Every advance for intimacy, for gentleness, for a moment to just be in love like they used to, turns into a screaming match. One sided at that.

From the bottom of his heart, Lefty could never fight with his sweetheart of nearly five years. A few more and they’d be getting married, raising kids in their own little corner of the Texas dry lands.

Not at this rate, and that’s Lefty’s biggest fear.

They need to talk about this, before things get out of control. He can’t lose his chance at love like this. Nothing has ever made his heart feel so simultaneously full and fragile.

Come tomorrow, he’s going to bring a ring, and he’s going to beg to fix whatever has gone wrong.

~~~~~

His name is Drayton. He’s not some fucking pretty little girlfriend, baby-makin’ machine. He’s a man, and he demands to be referred to as such.

Drayton had practiced it in his head countless times. Lefty called, said he wanted to see ‘his lover’ again, getting Mama’s blessing to take him out and everything. Would be nice to scare him out his fancy boots, showing up with his hair cut off and his chest pressed flat, but Drayton has hopes using words can get by this time.

He trusts his Lefty. Goddamn it, he does, despite the fear in his bitter heart, and the warning sirens going off in his own mind. Sure he’s pushing Lefty away some, but….

No. No more lies and excuses. Drayton’s going to act his age, act like the goddamn man he is, and face this little problem head on.

And he’ll bring his gun in the truck just in case things go south.

Picking lead outta bodies before preppin’ them ain’t easy, but it’s what he’ll have to do if he’s gonna be hurt, whether he likes that reality or not.

~~~~~

Lefty brought flowers, brought the ring, brought a bottle of the good wine and glasses, even a quilt to lay on the grass. Good old fashioned pic-a-nic under the stars to win his baby back.

All he needs now is-

“My love.”

He’s a little breathless with want when he finally sees his beloved. It’s been too long. His heart can’t take much more distance.

“Enright.”

That can’t be good. On last name terms again.

His honey only calls him Enright when somethin’s real wrong.

He’s gotta try to play his cards, gently holding the hands of the love of his life, “Would you come out with me tonight? I miss you.”

The gruff, but tender answer he gets is very much appreciated, “Got nothin’ better to do… thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~~

Halfway through the night, Drayton just bursts, like a beaver dam under far too much pressure. Except it’s his heart snapping into pieces, not no twigs. Only took two glasses full of wine before he was hugging the entire bottle to his chest to take swigs occasionally, crying his eyes out and pissing his dignity down the drain.

Lefty rubs his back, but it ain’t enough to soothe him. Drayton sobs, “Yer gonna leave me. Yer gonna think I’m fuckin’ crazy.”

Another big drink straight from the bottle. He’s never held his alcohol well. Probably already a good bit tipsy.

For his part, Lefty’s reassurance doesn’t falter, promising, “I’d never. Cross my heart.”

“And the rest?” Drayton asks for more, selfishly, hoping to extinguish the pain in his heart.

“Hope to die and everything, honey.” Lefty cooperates, only to give Drayton’s cheek a gentle kiss, and beg real quietly, “Jus’ tell me what’s wrong, lover. We can fix it.”

Something about that choice of words makes a crack in his soul. Ignites a deep insecurity inside himself nobody quite knows of.

“No. No, I’m not broken, Boude. There’s no fixin’ to be done”

“Alright. Well can I at least know the problem I’m dealin’ with, so’s I know how to address it?” Lefty patiently prompts.

Drayton drinks half of what’s left in the bottle in one swig. Popping off it, he shakes his head, terrified, unable to drown this unease, “I…. Boude- I cant-“

“Take your time. Breathe, partner.” Lefty soothes again, pulling Drayton softly back to lean into his chest.

He strokes his arms, like he’s trying to warm him up, and maybe he is. Maybe this is Draytons final act before his heart gives out from all these emotions and he goes dead cold. Nah. His heart’s still beating too fast for that. Drayton gains the courage to speak, “You said you’d stick with me through anythin’.”

“That I did.”

“Would that include if I changed my name?”

A pause. “What’s wrong with E-“

“Stop. I’m not done.” Drayton interrupts, so tired of that old way of referring to him, that he explains all at once, “I don’t want to just change my name. I want to change my clothes too. And my hair. And my body. And the way you call me. I-I want to change.. my sex, Boude. I ain’t no woman.”

“Could you.. explain that?” Lefty prompts. Drayton starts to pull away, he’s scared that Lefty’s question is a trap, a way to make him detail every emotional detail he has. But Lefty holds him close through it, “No honey I just, I don’t know what you mean. Please..”

So Drayton takes one more drink, and just lets the floodgates go, rambling on, “It’s not like I understand it much. It’s some curse. Like I was.. born all mixed up or somethin’. My soul must’ve swapped with somebody else’s. Maybe one of Mama’s stillborns-“

“You don’t feel like yourself?” Lefty tries.

Now he’s starting to get frustrated, walking someone else through what he already knows, “What the hell do you think? Drayton is a man’s name, and Drayton is me!”

“Honey. Drayton. You do understand that, what you’re fixin’ to do-“

“Is liable to get me killed. Of course I know! But if that’s what’s gonna happen then goddammit just finish me off now.”

“You know I would never.” Lefty sounds real stern, a little hurt he’d even suggest it. Clearing up that confusion comes from his long-winded declaration next, “My love. Remember when you told me, you didn’t like your weight, or your frizzy hair, or your crooked teeth? That you wasn’t good enough for me?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Drayton mumbles sourly, turning to finally face Lefty instead of leaning his back against him.

Warm, blue eyes stare right back into his own. Intense and vulnerable and just plain loving. Drayton has to look down.

“That I told you I’m connected with your soul. Your body, sure I love it, and I love you, but it’s not up to me. Our love was written in the creation of this very universe. God meant us to be together. No matter what form you take. Drayton Sawyer.” Lefty sounds a lot like his preacher father talking that way, ranting at him. That’s a sign of how seriously he feels.

Somehow his confidence allows Drayton to let all his heart-achin’ show, “I can't go through with it.”

“I’ll help you, darlin-“ Lefty starts, but he’s cut off.

Drayton’s voice wobbles with his tears and the burn of alcohol, “Don’t you understand? If I’m a man, and I start lookin’ like one, we can’t be together!”

“On our own time, we can be. Nobody has to know. To the public, we’ll be friends still, but-“

“Boude. I can’t ask that of you. You’re always.. always kissin’ on me, holding my hands. Hiding your affection, it’s not-“

Lefty cups his face. Resumes the eye contact, starin’ into his eyes in a way that’s bordering on manic.

“Not going to break us. Never. Nothing can get in our way, you hear me?”

Drayton nods softly, sniffling to stop the tears that wanna fall, “But-“

“No more. I wanna help you. We’ll get you sorted and lookin’ yourself more like Drayton, yeah?” Lefty tries to cheer him up.

Drayton has a realization instead, color draining out of his face, “My mama’s gonna kill me.“

It’s not likely, but there was always the chance. Mama Sawyer done a lot of good by her son, and a lot of bad too. Namely, kicking him out a few times to have the house to herself and her ever-changing beau, forcing him to work since childhood. The woman didn’t want a child, she wanted a maid. But she could be kind when she needed to be. Sure, she’d hurt him, but she’d never abandon him, never do away with his life.

Lefty’s opinion of the woman is as low as low. His tone is barely subdued anger, “As if she’ll even notice. That woman is colder than hell frozen over. Never pays you enough mind, never has.”

“That’s my mother you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” Drayton warns softly. No matter how much he agrees, it’s never easy to hear that somebody from the outside can tell things ain’t happy-go-lucky.

It’s probably Lefty’s determination, as evidenced by his dedication to arguing this, “Exactly. And she’s never ought been a mother to ya.”

That gets Drayton a little defensive, “Funny. It’s your parents we’ll be hidin’ from. It’s mama told me I could bring home man or woman, so long as there’d be no love child sprung.”

Meanwhile, Lefty’s parents are the ones who sat the couple down and threatened to not let them see one another if they suspected them of pre-marital scex. They’re the folks that made Drayton kneel and pray at their hearth for God’s approval to date their child.

As much as Lefty can’t stand Mama Sawyer, Drayton can’t stand the Enright parents neither.

Apparently, Lefty agrees, “So they’re both shit. That leaves just us. Just you and me, Drayton.”

Huh. How about that.

Drayton finally puts down the bottle, realizing there’s no more than a sip or two left. His face is flushed, an unholy combination of alcohol and affection. The only thing warmer than his skin is a fond flame burning right in the center of his chest.

“You can stop sayin’ my name so much.” He attempts to get some space from the big feelings.

Lefty showers him in compliments instead, because of course he does, “I like it. It suits you. Better than E-“

Drayton puts a stop to that. “Well if you’re so damn obsessed, the old one dies, alright? No more calling me by that name.”

“Alright.” Lefty agrees, until he thinks of some extenuating circumstance, “Not even-“

“No. Never. If you goin’ through with all this, you’re gonna take me as is. And that ain’t her. She’s gone, Enright. You hear?” Drayton hides the quiver is his voice, by dropping it a pitch or two. It’ll help to have that skill later on anyhow.

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

“Can I kiss-“

Drayton interrupts his twiddling about. No more words for now. No more questions especially. He’s sick of words. He wants feelings.

The kiss ain’t some dainty thing. Drayton cups Lefty’s face and guides him as close as two bodies can press, lips connected all the while. They’ve never made as much contact as here now, laying under the stars, all tangled up, kissing as deep and as furious as the bounds of their love.

Guilt is what stops it. Not only over the sinful (clothed. painfully modest) touching. Lefty looks blank-faced as he pulls back with another realization, “Drayton. Man ain’t supposed to lie with another man-“

Drayton throws his head back in frustration with it all, “Oh, hush. Man ain’t supposed to lie with nobody til he’s married. What’s it matter ‘til then? So long as you ain’t tryin’ to get hitched, we're square.”

The air sorta freezes up. Lefty shifts away, sitting them both up, “Well, actually…”

“Boude, you weren’t-“ Drayton looks furious. Don’t feel it.

Lefty thinks it’s best to just get it out there before he can start to regret, “I was… In a moment of desperation I… thought it’d be a good idea. I thought it might rekindle things and I… I love you. So I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Except there’s one glaring problem now that Drayton is about to be outwardly himself, “It won’t be legal.”

“I know. I know that. I’ll put it away.” Lefty says, with the demeanor of a scorned child. Embarrassed. Cute.

Now, Drayton ain’t exactly eager to be legally bound to anybody, but he don’t like the way he can feel the hurt coming from his boy. He thinks of some distraction,

“What gem?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the stone?”

Lefty eyes him wearily, trying to interpret the meaning of his question, “A tiger’s eye. It’s for good luck.”

“That’s not.. too frilly. I-I wouldn’t mind-“ Drayton can feel his face has gone beet red.

Worth it for the way Lefty lights up. He produces the tiny crushed velvet box again,

“You wanna wear it?”

“Strictly for purpose of holding you accountable.” Drayton lies.

He wants to wear cause it’ll feel nice. Serve as a reminder that he’s wanted at least somewhere in the world. Not that it’ll be easy. That reminder gonna be noticed by somebody else soon enough.

And then they’ll be in for a world of trouble.

“Here, my love.” Lefty offers it up, when Drayton reaches for the ring insisting on putting it in for him. Two fingers down from where an actual wedding band would go. A promise ring. “I sized it from.. the little ring you gave me. Well actually, you left it over once, but-“

Drayton isn’t listening. He’s staring, fascinated, at the square cut stone inlaid in thin braided silver. “I’m keepin’ this. You realize that.”

“Yessir.” Lefty just chuckles at him.

Makes Drayton suddenly feel vulnerable, like Lefty’s got some kind of power over him he should know about, “And you’re alright with it? Bein’ promised to a.. a-“

A gentle hand on both his arms, Lefty stops him there, “Don’t say whatever you’re about to say. It wa’nt gonna be nice. I don’t want you talkin’ that way.”

“I’ll talk as I please.”

“It’ll be hard enough without you bein’ against your own self. Don’t do that. If I love you, and you love yourself, and you love me, then we can’t go wrong.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Lefty sighs, frustrated with his stubbornness after dealing with it so much, and rubs at his eyes, “Drayton.”

“What?” Drayton asks too quickly. Here it comes lord. Everything before now was the calm before the storm.

Except, he should know better. Lefty was getting irritated with the arguin’, sure, but all he’s got to inform him of is “Nothin’. I just like sayin’ it.”

Drayton huffs, the tiniest hint of playfulness showing through after the innocent misunderstanding, “Well that’s enough. You’re wearing it out already.”

“Mhm.” Lefty hums.

Still close, Lefty presses a delicate kiss to Drayton’s forehead, noticing, with his hand placed in his hair, a pin holding the style up. Unexpectedly, he removes it, letting medium length waves, dark as the midnight sky, topple everywhere.

For Drayton, being seen with his hair down might as well be like going in public in just his britches or less. His face is probably doubly as bright red as before.

Lefty just wanted a look, a question on his mind, “How short you thinkin’?”

“I want it all off. Clipped short as you can get it without bein’ a flattop.” Drayton admits.

Lefty seems to consider it, maybe imagining what his partner will look like that way, before he affirms, “I can do that. How ‘bout a change of clothes too? The hair, I don’t think it’ll match this stuffy old dress, hm?”

Drayton vaguely motions to his chest, the very obvious difference between their shirt sizes in that area, “I won’t fit in your clothes.”

“Sure, not yet. We’ll figure somethin’ out though. You gotta give this time.” Something tells him Lefty ain’t just talking about chest tape. Definitely not when he says dreamily, “Afterall, we got all of it in the damn world.”

“If you’re trickin’ me-“ Drayton starts, eyes narrowed.

But Lefty is quicker, “I’m not. I love you, Drayton Sawyer.”

“Fine. But you’re not gettin’ no love ‘til I’m sure you mean it.” See, that’s partly a lie, because as soon as he says it he kisses him. What he really means is he’s not puttin’ out, which they already agreed upon, and that he’s too overwhelmed with all the other things goin’ on to say the words. Love. But he’ll show it, even if he can’t say it back. He’ll hold out his hand and comment, “‘Preciate the ring. Jus’ don’t make me mad or I’ll hock it in an instant.”

“You wouldn’t... Would ya?” Lefty eyes him skeptically.

Some reason, Drayton just howls with laughter, “Awh, hell no. You keepin’ me, ‘n I’m keepin’ this ring.”

“It suits you.”

“Hey. Wait ‘til you see it with the real me.”

“Sure, sure. But I gotta feeling I’m gonna like it either way.”

That boy is helplessly, head over heels, throw all common sense out the window in love.

Drayton teases him about it a bit, “Funny. I got that feelin’ too, lover boy.”

Lefty eventually takes him home to sleep off the alcohol around two or three in the morning, but sure as sin the next day they’re gettin’ Drayton gussied up to look like himself. The Enright’s bathroom’s a right mess, but it’s worth it, to see a genuine Drayton Sawyer smile. Showing buck-teeth and all, not some bashful little thing.

The fears they had was true. Once word got out, Ma and Pa Enright forbade, strictly outlawed, really, that the boys even see one another, unless it was for business. Trading meat and produce and such. Lucky for them, nobody ever caught on they was lying about how often those trading expeditions was needed.

That and nobody knew their spot. Follow the creek down from the watering hole long enough, and you’d find the far away clearing they’d had that date in. Every week, sometimes several times, they’d both sneak out of their respective homes and head out that way. But nobody never did follow. Moonlight as their guide, they were untouchable. For years they was.

Still no official wedding in sight, it’d be nearly twice the time since they got together come the end of that year. Almost a decade, they decided, was enough time that they might as well be unionized by somethin’.

The body, the the blood, the soul. Man lyin’ with man, and all that. Drayton would call it plainly what it is without reserve, but Lefty doesn’t have it in him to admit he’s planning a sin.

Especially with a man who at least is starting to be recognized as such now ‘at the Muerto County population’s shifting a little younger, a little less familiar with the person Drayton used to be. Neighborhood kids move away, families sell their farms, bosses die in equipment accidents, and suddenly every day isn’t quite as unsure, and the townsfolk are calling him by his chosen name.

Blame all that for the lapse in judgment that gets Drayton lyin’ on his back when Mama goes outta town, Grandpa gets called in, and suddenly they got the house to themselves.

“Slow your roll, cowboy. Jesus...”

“I-Is that s’posed to happen?”

“Alright, get the hell off and let me do this-“

How was either of them s’pose to know that one time was all it took! They was set up to fail!

Looking back now, as soon as it was over he thinks he knew. Paranoia or not, he’d felt somethin’ that night, and now goddamit he’s three months along. Half the time as Mama. A whole third of the way through.

Damn it all to hell.

They’re going to have a baby. Drayton’s gonna be sick-

#lefton #drayton sawyer #lefty enright #drayton sawyer x lefty Enright #lefty x drayton #my writing

[snippychicke]

Aftermath--Chapter One

Summary:

Raymond Chestnut gets a harsh surprise when he realizes the body in his living room isn't actually dead. Now he has a severely injured white man, who tried to kill him, to deal with. Thankfully he knows a friend who might be able to help.

Lorelei was used to people coming to her for medical attention. But when Raymond brings Otto to her home, nothing could prepare for how her life was about to change.

--------

Well, if you followed me like... 3-4 years ago, you may remember I was quite into the Swedes from The Umbrella Academy...

I never got over them to be honest.

So here we are, I am proving my screen name yet again with a rewrite of an old story! That I never finished! But hey, my writing skill have definitely improved.

For those unfamiliar, go watch season 2 of the Umbrella Academy. The blonde assassins? Those were the boys that inspired the rise of ol' Ikea Mafia Fam. As well as the following story in which a white woman born in the 80's tries to write the perspective of a poc woman in the 60s. (and prays she is not being offensive in any way and begs forgiveness if she is.)

Also:

Herb did not, in fact, take away the dead body of the Swede Assassin. 

It was still laying in Raymond's living room, long after everyone else had disappeared in flashes of blue lights. Wrapped tightly in the rug his sister had gifted him and Allison on their wedding day. 

Silent. 

Foreboding. 

Raymond watched the unmoving figure as he sipped at his scotch. There was no way in hell he could move it by himself. And who could he trust to ask for help to move it? 

To move him, Raymond reminded himself harshly. It wasn't an it, it was a ‘him.’ That was a human body resting in his living room. 

Who, admittedly,  had tried to kill him and Allison. But still, Raymond could at least acknowledge him as a fellow human. After all, Raymond had tried so hard to be the respectful and peaceful man his grandmother raised him to be. Even when faced with the violence because of his involvement with the protests, or being unfairly treated time after time because of racism, he never raised so much as a hand to another human being. 

He shouldn't try to deny another man his humanity, even if he was a dead would-be murderer. 

But he was still stuck with a dead white man in his living room. It didn't matter that the man and his brother had forced their way into their home (his home, now that Allison was gone, but he didn't want to deal with that heartache on top of everything) with intent to kill both of them. 

All the law would see was a white man dead in a colored man's house. 

He would go to prison… No. He was going to be lynched for this. Old-fashioned hung from a tree for the whole city to see. 

Raymond tipped the rest of the scotch back and poured another full glass as the liquid burned its way to his stomach. All of his work, gone. He had abandoned his education and teaching position so he could do his part for the Civil Rights movement. He had hoped he could do some good.

And instead, he had made things worse. 

It was probably a good thing Allison had…left to be with her family. It was comforting to know she was safe and alive somewhere somewhen. A small, cold, comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. 

His lips touched the glass for another swig when he heard it. A noise so soft and quiet he was sure he had imagined it. Still, it made him freeze, his body tense as he held his breath, eyes darting to the rug. 

No. The man was dead. It had been hours since the attack. There was no way he could be somehow still alive. 

Raymond shook his head, deciding it was probably just the house settling, and shot back the drink once more, feeling the burn in his throat match the burn of his eyes. His whole life had just ended. It wouldn't be long before he would join…

His somber thoughts were cut off by another sound, this one unmistakable. 

A groan of pain. 

Raymond startled and jumped to his feet, throwing his glass out of reflex towards the body, which grunted as the glass bounced off the rug and shattered on the floor. He grabbed a butterknife off the table and held it towards the body; the cutlery shaking in his hand as he stared at the body. 

But there was only silence. For what felt like hours, Raymond stood frozen yet mentally daring it to do something. Anything. If it did, he would… he would…

The rug moved as another groan cut through the heavy silence. There was no doubting the haggard breathing and muffled moan of pain that quickly increased in both volume and frequency. Raymond cursed every foul word his grandmother would've washed his mouth out for and ran back to the kitchen to grab an actual knife. The long thick butcher’s knife his wife had used so skillfully once upon a time. 

He pushed that thought away and stalked back to the living room, gripping the wooden handle tightly in his shaking hand. Raymond towered over the rug, knife poised to strike where he assumed the man’s chest was. He had to do something swift. Otherwise…

Otherwise what? He was already a deadman walking. 

The knife clattered harmlessly to the floor as Raymond regained his senses. He was going to die either way, but wouldn't it be better to die innocent than guilty? Not just for his soul, but for the Civil Rights movement? His brother and sisters? 

Raymond dropped to his knees and desperately undid the knots he and Allison had tied, allowing the rug to fall open. The man's face was no longer placid with death, but grimacing in pain, pale lips pursed as he sucked in haggard breaths.  Blood was caked dry around the remains of his right eye, dark purple and black bruises colored his neck, while the rest of his skin was as pale as his blond hair. 

"Hey, uh buddy," Raymond said as he placed a hand on his shoulder, earning a painful grunt that caused him to yank his hand away. "Right. Sorry. Let's… let's get you to a hospital." Except questions would be asked, and Raymond would definitely be arrested. 

But… what if there was a chance he could avoid that? Someone that could help him and the man before him. 

"Actually, on second thought..." 

~❖~

Lorelei groaned as she fell into the old couch, slipping off her shoes and rubbing the ache from her feet. The third twelve-hour shift in a row at the hospital had left the young nurse sore and exhausted. This week had been crazy between the street shooting and the asylum patients escaping.

Then there was the man found in the woods. She grimaced at the memory of being briefed by the operating room's recovery nurse as she was assigned to John Doe for the rest of her shift because the white nurse had been overwhelmed and needed help (nevermind the black's unit had been just as understaffed before they had dragged her away). Even though the nurse had rattled off the injuries--including the traumatic amputation of his leg-- seeing the young man as white as the sheets, covered in bandages, left her heart sore. 

Dr. Wilson and his team had done their best, but they all had their doubts. No one knew how long the man had been in the woods, wounded. It had been a miracle he hadn't bled to death. But there had been plenty of time for sepsis to set in.

Lorelei's eyes were starting to drift shut when somebody desperately knocked at the front door; hard and frantic enough to rattle the glass panes of the windows. Her eyes shot back open and she jumped up out of instinct, her heart thundering in her chest as she stumbled around the coffee table to open the door. 

She knew it was going to be an emergency, knew that she should expect anything, but yet she wasn't prepared for Raymond Chestnut to be standing on her old porch, a man nearly twice his size leaning heavily on him with an ill-fitting tan suit covered in blood.   

A very pale, very white man.

"What the hell?" she started, automatically shifting to the white man's side, having to lift his arm to sling it over her shoulder to help support his weight. 

People coming to her was no surprise. It was normal for her the way people in their neighborhood would knock on her door for help, ranging from childhood bumps and bruises, injuries from teenagers getting into fights, and other emergencies. 

But that was from people in their neighborhood-- which was very much a black community. And while she was about as white-passing as they could get-- barely passing the paper-bag test most days--her skin was still far darker than the man she helped Raymond half-drag inside. 

Her stomach curdled at the wounds she saw, though the bloody mess of an eye was probably the worst. One slight touch to the unconscious man's cheek and he snarled as he shifted away, his other eye fluttering beneath its closed eyelid. "Shit. We need to get him to a hospital, Ray!"

"I know!" he hissed back, keeping his voice low despite the fact the door was closed and no one else in the old two-story house but them. "But can you imagine me pulling in the ER with him like this? I'd be lynched by dawn!" 

"What even happened?" She asked, noticing the darkening bruise around his neck. Without hesitating  she quickly undid the silk tie and ripped the white shirt open. There was no mistaking the shadowing of hand-prints that wrapped around his neck. Obviously not an accident, but if Raymond got in a fight, and one serious enough to do this kind of damage, why would he bring the man here?

Nevermind that Raymond was as pacifistic as it got, and she couldn't see him doing this. Hell, even if Raymond was fighting for his life, she doubted he could cause this kind of damage.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said with a dry tone, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Hell, I barely believe it, and I lived through it."

She shot him a look, "I worked in the ER on a full moon on Halloween this year. Try me."

Before he could begin, however, she stood and quickly disappeared into the kitchen. Raymond could hear the faucet running as she rummaged through drawers, and within a minute she was back with a basin of water and more than a few washcloths. "Well?" She snipped as she soaked a washcloth and wrung it out before starting to work on the caked blood around his eye, making the man hiss and flinch but not wake up. 

"Him and his brother came to my house and attacked Ally and I. Allison did that," he gestured to the eye covered by a washcloth, "before telling his brother to kill him. Which I certainly thought he did when he strangled him, but…obviously not. So, here we are."

Lorelei paused and looked at him, confused and sure Raymond was lying to her. In fact, she was about to call out bullshit when she noticed the solemn look on his face. Raymond was a poor liar, and there was no way he could lie about something like this when he could barely keep a straight face about who had stolen the collards out of her abysmal attempt at a garden.

Yet there was nothing but complete honesty when he met her gaze, making her swear under her breath. 

Allison, while always a bit different and headstrong for sure, was still a lady. Lorelei had a hard time seeing the hairdresser stabbing someone. Granted, being attacked in her own home would make anyone lash out.

But the attempted strangulation? And she told the man’s brother to do so, and then he apparently followed through with her command? How? Why?

As perplexing as the mystery was, right now it didn't matter. She had a patient to tend to, the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ did really matter. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and shifted to stand. "Come on, let's get him back in your car and get him to the hospital.  We can say we found him on my doorstep like this. Dr. Cahoy is working tonight, and..."

The man's hand suddenly shot up and gripped Lorelei's wrist tightly, making her freeze and Raymond tense. The man's other eye was open and staring hard at her, the soft blue somehow violent. "No," he said, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper.

"No?" She repeated, incredulous. "I can't treat the trauma to that eye. We need to take you to the hospital."

"No," he repeated, his hand tightening slightly, his fingers easily encompassing her small wrist. For a moment, Lorelei feared he would pop her wrist out of joint. Yet after a brief moment his grip relaxed, though he didn't let go. 

"You do realize you could lose your eye," Lorelei started, mentally adding 'if you haven't already.' The bloody mess concealed most of the damage, but she feared the worst already. Eyes couldn’t take a lot of damage before becoming blind, or needing to be removed. And, well, this one had been rather severely damaged.

The man stayed silent, his gaze not leaving hers. There wasn't an ounce of fear or worry in his expression. Just stubbornness and acceptance. "Fine," she sighed, giving in. "But in return for my services, you have to promise not to go after Ray and Allie, okay? Or any negro for that matter."

That was a big bluff for her to take, trying to demand that a white man make her a promise? Yet instead of being incensed, his gaze glanced briefly at Raymond before his eye fluttered close and he let go of her in apparent agreement. 

Lorelei stood, rubbing her wrist as she mulled her options. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. White men could get the care they need at the drop of a hat. They could get quality care no matter where they went. She needed to save her stores for those not so fortunate. 

Yet something in her gut was leading her towards an idea that there was something was not quite right with the situation beyond the obvious. He only said one word, but there was a definite accent to it, and not one she was familiar with either. Her gut was telling her that she had to help him, and not just dump him off at the nearest ER. 

"Ray, start boiling some water.  Grab the pack of gauze and gloves under the sink too."

Raymond didn't ask any questions but nodded his head and followed her directions. Lorelei sighed as she touched the man's shoulder, making him crack open his good eye once more. "I'm serious here,” she continued softly yet firm. “I am not a doctor. I can do my best, but I doubt I can do anything to save your eye. You need a hospital."

"No," he repeated, though this time softer. Almost apologetic, as if he understood the moral quandary he was putting her through. Which, sympathy from a white man was just about as unbelievable as the rest of this.  

She pushed the thought away. "Do you have any plans to hurt Ray or Allie?"

"...no." he closed his eye, becoming stoic but not before she saw a flash of something. Anguish? Regret? Or just pain? 

"I'm holding you to that.” She didn’t much care about herself, but she wanted to protect her old friend and his wife. “Now, give me a name I can call you-- I don't need to be your real one," she continued as he looked at her strangely. "I just need a name you'll answer to."

"...Otto." That time she caught the accent but still didn't have an idea of where. Definitely not any of the local American drawls. Maybe that was why he was so much kinder than the usual white.  

"Well, Otto, I'm Lorelei,” she returned with a tight smile. “And this is probably going to hurt like a son of a bitch."

#the swedes #tua #tua the swedes #tua otto #oscar tua #otto/oc #the umbrella academy season 2

[pancake-breakfast]

Time to finish up volume 1 of TriMax!

Archive

Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10

Trigun Volume 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 1 Supplemental Research, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Volume 1: 1-2, 2 DT, 3-4, 3 DT

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 1, Chapters 5-6 below.

Chapter 5: Dancing Revolver

Gods, Vash always has to do that little hip jut, doesn't he?

Eyyy, geranium scene!

It's funny because geraniums are seen as almost plain here. They get used a lot in, like, planters for strip malls and such because they're hardy, drought-resistant beasts that need very little care and grow nicely from cuttings so they're cheap AF to reproduce and spread around. (BTW, if you ever want to add some pretty geraniums you see out in public to your yard/patio/whatever, you can just "borrow" a nice stem from that plant, take it home, and probably grow it for yourself.)

Vash is a growing boy. Of course he's thinking with his stomach.

As someone who has tended to them, I can confidently say that geraniums are definitely determined....

I'm sure he's trying to look somewhat fierce here, but mostly he just looks annoyed.

Uh oh. Vash might have the attention of someone who will try to do some damage.

Yeah... don't go pointing guns at people (purposely or no) if you're all tensed up. You might make a regrettable move.

Oh, no. I remember this guy from the anime. Please send him back where he came from.

LOL, this Elena girl is abandoning her duties to check out Vash the Stampede.

HAHAHAHAHAHA, it's the Vash slaughter song!

"Won't leave a single man alive." Vash, you're so full of shit right now, it's hilarious.

Sorry, Wolfwood. Now you have to deal with Vash being dramatic and calling attention to himself.

The funniest thing about this page to me is how Vash goes from screaming, "AAAAAAAA!!!" in Japanese to screaming, "AAAAAAAAA!!!" in English.

Pretty sure he just turned into a windmill of legs and coattails.

Yeah, from what I gather, bullet-proof vests don't keep you from getting nasty bruises and broken ribs. They just keep the hot lead from entering your body and doing the kind of damage that's harder to recover from.

He's remembering this morning's training session, I see.

Hey, Vash warned them....

Did he miss, though? Did he??

LOL, yeah, he did not.

This is, like, a Vash catchphrase at this point.

Well, if he didn't have Vash's attention before, he has it now.

Chapter 6: Sin

This doesn't have anything to do with the manga; I just want to note the number of times I've tried to navigate these pages by pushing left instead of right on my keyboard ('cause that's the way you read manga) is really, really high.

The contrast between the doctor's optimism and Brad's pessimism. Also, doc's viewing glass.

Wolfwood is having WAY too much fun spectating here. He looks like he's genuinely enjoying the chaos of it all.

Even scum can beg for its life when the tables are turned. Is the regret true and will it stick, or will being allowed mercy only open the door to further atrocities down the line? Do we have the right to decide?

Vash is making a choice, and it's not a choice to do nothing.

Hehhhh, people saying, "What do you know about my pain?" to Vash. Yes, this kind of pain is unique and individual, and Vash hasn't been through anything quite like losing a daughter in such a horrific fashion (that we know of; he is quite old), but he does understand both horrific loss and unimaginable betrayal, as well as the grief, self-blame, and feelings of utter helplessness that can come in its aftermath.

Poor Vash. He looks like hell after that fight. Probably feels like it, too.

Vash gave the father time to not become a murderer, and that's the sort of thing that would be of infinite value to Vash.

This panel, though. Important character notes here. In fact, one might say the only person Vash might not see as family on this planet is his very own twin.

The doctor sure has some trust in Vash getting out of things. And... he probably knows Vash well enough to know Vash would regret if his situation caused trouble for the doc and the rest of the people on that steamer.

LOL, Wolfwood, making a dramatic entrance, ready to bust through everything with hot lead and his beloved bike. He looks like an antihero arriving to save his kidnapped woman.

Hahahahahahaha, he pretty much buried Vash in rubble with that entrance. Mmmmmaybe didn't think it all the way through....

This panel has the same energy as Wolfwood telling Vash that kicking a rocket out of the air was "fucking stupid."

Awww, Wolfie, your heart of gold is showing....

We're just gonna ignore these panels where WW warns Vash that one of these days, pushing his luck won't work and he'll have to choose. I'm sure there's no foreshadowing in that whatsoever. Nope, none at all.

Ok, I tried to ignore it, but I also want to note I think Stampede did an excellent job capturing this running theme of how Vash is walking a precarious path trying not to choose. I don't remember that theme at all in '98. (Not saying it wasn't there; just saying it doesn't stand out in my memory.) Meanwhile, it's not just core to Vash's story in Stampede, but it's core to Meryl's and Wolfwood's stories in Stampede, too, even if in theirs, it's not mentioned so explicitly by the narrative.

Goshdarn it. That stupid Hitler-moustached, too-tall bowler hat guy is still here. Yes, yes, I know he wasn't dealt with so he can't just leave. But I want him to leave because it's better than him being in the narrative.

SEE?!!? GOOD PEOPLE DON'T HAVE PEOPLE PUPPETS LIKE THAT. SEND BOWLER HAT GUY BACK!!!

Uuuuhhhhh.... Look, I get that Legato (like a good percentage of the major characters in this story) likes fetish gear, but wearing a freaking iron maiden is taking it to a whole 'nother level.

Also, is he really big, or is this new creature person very small, or is the panel just framed weird for weird perspective? Questions....

Author Bonus Chapter: Gun Love Island

SALUTATIONS!!!

If this panel is meant to be the inside of Nightow's brain, it's a... very busy place. I do have a special appreciation for the dragon dissolving into a single sexy fishnet leg.

Oh, so the '98 anime had already started by the time this collection came out.

"First half of the story." LOL, half. Lies. But this might be a bit of a translation error. I've seen it elsewhere. Seems like (and I could be wrong here since I'm not a Japanese language expert by any means) the Japanese terms for parts of things don't necessarily mean equal parts like they do in English. To clarify, in English, if we say "a third," we mean 1/3 + 1/3 + 1/3 = 1, but the Japanese term that usually gets translated into 1/3 (三分; literally "three parts") can also mean 1/3 + 1/2 + 1/6 = 1. It's still referring to one part of three out of the whole, but that part is not necessarily equal to the other parts. Then again, the characters usually used for "half" are 半分 rather than 二分, and to the best of my knowledge, 半 does indeed mean equal halves, so maybe I'm wrong in this instance. I don't know, I'm not reading this in Japanese and I've only studied the language for like 3 years, which is nothing for Japanese.

Hahahahaha, sounds like Trigun is a bit of a case of the story running away with the author. It happens sometimes.

I'm also happy that people like Nightow's characters. Thank you very much.

#thank you all the manga readers who've come before me for keeping this manga going long enough to reach its conclusion #and eventually make its way back to me #trigun maximum #volume 1 #trigunbookclub #pancake thoughts

[giantchasm]

Hi Sack :D have you thought about 🥀 for Peony :) also 🍨💥💼🕰️ for any oc(s) bc I want to hear more about your ocs

🥀 (Wilted Rose) - Do they have a Soul form? What would it look and act like? How much control over themselves do they have? Is it still possible to save them, or are they too far gone?

Ohohohoho. I have not thought about that! That's delightfully painful.

I think before I answer, I should try and explain how I interpret Soul forms in my Kirbyverse, since they're not all that expanded upon in canon.

Soul forms are what happens when someone avoids death by unnatural means. They're the result of someone not only actively refusing to accept their end, but going to the extent of attempting to undo it, regardless of the cost, usually by the means of harnessing dangerous magic.

To simplify things, there are effectively two types of Soul forms: Soul forms that are achieved through innate power and Soul forms that are achieved through outside power.

Drawcia Soul and Soul Forgo are examples of the former. They're beings who were simply so powerful that even following their deaths they were able to use that power to cling to the mortal realm in some way, shape or form.

Soul of Sectonia, Magolor Soul, and Marx Soul are examples of the latter. In a vacuum, none of those characters would have been able to cheat death, but through the use of external sources (the Miracle Fruits, Master Crown, and Galactic Nova respectively) they were able to do so anyways.

The latter, moreso than the former, has a tenancy to drive people... um, mad. Here's a small snippet from my current WIP fic (not involving Peony, but canon to my Kirbyverse as a whole) that gets into it a little:

That's why whereas Drawcia Soul and Soul Forgo at least mostly seem to have it together, Soul of Sectonia, Magolor Soul and Marx Soul are so... [glances at the suicidal husk, agonized monster and frenzied corpse] ...like that.

(This is also why I don't consider any of the Soul battles exclusive to the True Arena canon. I'm too distressed by the idea of those characters being unsalvageably ruined even in death.)

But with all that exposition out of the way (that Soul forms are the result of someone staunchly refusing to accept their death and that there are two types of Soul form) now we can get into what I think a Peony Soul would be like.

First of all, obviously, she'd be dead. Potentially by natural means, but just as likely through her magic. As Peony grows older she relies more and more on it and starts to straddle the line between the mortal and spirit realms. The tips of her limbs turn translucent. White streaks appear in her hair. Her eyes glow sometimes. She has to be reminded to quite literally re-tether herself to the living world.

If she were to overuse her magic in some grand fashion, I can see that killing her outright. And that, perhaps, would be the start of all this.

Peony is already naturally someone who refuses to accept the natural order of things. One of the biggest conflicts of her story is her wanting to resurrect Sectonia and Haltmann but repeatedly being told "No. You can't do that. That's not how it works," by the literal Grim Reaper and her stubbornly refusing to listen to that. So if Peony were to die... I can see her approaching her own death in a similar manner.

What I'm envisioning is a Peony who not only won't accept she's dead, but doesn't even process it. She can't bear the thought, and so she won't. She well and truly believes she's alive.

But being alive requires energy. And energy requires, well...-

Did you know Peony is almost lich-adjacent? Like not even just within this "what-if" context. She's quite literally someone who drains the life force of those around her, then either uses that energy to empower herself or redirects it to the ghosts to temporarily tether them to the mortal plane.

When she touches plants, they wither and die, and the same can only be assumed of people, albeit to a much lesser degree. That's why she begins wearing gloves all the time when she's older; because it's made clear she likely drains peoples' life force just by touching them. This is something that's probably okay in moderation, but possibly deadly if left unchecked.

So, a deceased Peony running on denial...

I can see her as that taken to the extreme- a horrifying tornado of energy that drains the life force of everything around her, living and deceased in an attempt to resurrect herself. A vortex that swallows other souls. She doesn't even mean to, necessarily, it's just innate- born of sheer, visceral desperation.

I don't know what this would look like, but conceptually alone, that's pretty scary.

As for whether or not a Peony like that could be saved...

Well, that depends on your definition of 'saved.' I'm of the opinion that once someone is dead in the Kirby universe, there's no undoing that; especially once they've reached the point of a Soul Form. There would be no bringing Peony back to life, regardless of how things ended.

But seeing as how this would be a Soul form mostly borne of her own innate magic as opposed to an outside source (at least... until she started absorbing the life force of others), maybe it would be possible to reason with her and talk her down. All this would do, however, is force her to come to terms with and accept her death. The best ending in a scenario like this would involve managing to stop her being a monster, but still not result in her coming back to life. Ever.

Worst case scenario: her now-nightmarish spirit wold have to be put down and dragged to Hades by Morpho Knight. Best case scenario: she's made to accept the reality of the situation and, if she's lucky, she can join the ghosts she's spent so long interacting with in watching over the mortal realm.

Wow! Pretty messed up. There's a reason I haven't thought about this before, ahahaha. It was a fun little "what-if," though, even if I'd never do that to her.

I'll be answering the rest for Peony as well, except for the ones that have already been asked for her.

🍨 (Ice Cream) - The Invader Armour undergoes a drastic transformation depending on its pilot. If they were to wield it, what appearance would their mech take on? What abilities would it have?

See, now this is an interesting question in that I've also never thought about it, but it's something that's a lot more likely to happen within Peony's "canon." She's literally daughter of the HWC's current president! She probably has been in one of these things at least once. Maybe she shouldn't have been, considering she's approximately eight years old, but her mother isn't exactly the most responsible, and Kirby: Planet Robobot in and of itself is a game about a toddler operating heavy machinery, so maybe I'm overthinking this and that's fine.

I figure, much like it does with Kirby, it would probably both take on a form resembling her and mimic/amplify her powers. So it would also be something that utilizes Soul magic! As for how this would vary from the usual usage of her magic, though, I'd actually have to think about it more. Give me some time to chew on it ahahaha.

💥 (Collision) - What’s your OC’s combat style like? Do they adhere to any particular code of honor or ethics in a fight, or are they totally unfettered by that sort of thing?

This one has already been asked for Peony in another ask, so I'll answer this one for my second favorite Kirby OC: Peacekeeper!

Something that's interesting about Peacekeeper is that while she's seemingly a sorceress on the surface, it's fake. It's all fake. Peacekeeper has no innate magical talent. She was originally a tech Ancient, and while her magic Ancient s/o tried to teach her magic, she never had a penchant for it. She's only capable of using magic through tools.

As such, any magical abilities she'd utilize in a fight are solely based around the magic in her staff. Most obviously, she can use it to seal others in crystal, but she can also use it to launch shards of crystal as projectiles and to teleport.

Primarily, though, she's actually a brawler. Peacekeeper is large. She has huge, sharp claws and mighty horns. She also has a lot of pent-up anger. When she isn't attempting to be a wizard, she'd be trying to tear things apart with her hands. Angry, forceful swipes. Kicking, clawing, and attempting to choke people. Hell, she probably even uses the staff as a blunt weapon.

She does not follow a code of ethics, seeing as how her entire gimmick is that she's willing to attempt to kill a four-year-old. She's underhanded and sneaky and more than willing to use the element of surprise or gang up on people to get the upper hand. The way she sees it is the ends justify the means, and honor in battle means nothing as long as she gets what she needs to done.

💼 (Bag) - Inventory check! What items does your OC typically carry around with them? What do they carry them in?

This one I'll answer for Peacekeeper as well, as I've already talked about Peony's absurd amount of personal mementos.

The big one, obviously, is her staff. It was stolen from the other Ancients and is something she keeps on her person at all times. She sees it as her method of enacting justice.

Another distinct thing is her mask. She uses this to hide her identity and maintain anonymity, and would wear this throughout most of the 'game.'

She also always has a ball-and-chain tied to each wrist. Surprisingly, these are not something that were placed upon her by others. She tied them to herself both as a display of her restraint and as something to slow her down should she ever lose it. She does not see herself as above her own principles, and so they're meant to be something to help "put her down" if she ever becomes too dangerous.

I also like to think she has lots of little trinkets and mementos from her underlings, "The Peacekeepers" on her person at all times. Something I wanted to avoid with Peacekeeper was the "villain mistreats their (once beloved) subordinates" thing that the Kirby series does so often since it's... well, overdone, as much as I love it. She sincerely has a good relationship with her followers. They simply enable each others' desire for revenge and ability to hold a grudge in the worst way.

🕰️ (Clock) - What would a Dreamy Gear version of them look like? What sort of accessories would they have? What kind of role do they play?

See, now answering this for any of my OCs is sort of tough! I haven't actually read that novel yet ahahaha. (The only novel I've read is the Hades one, both for worldbuilding reasons and because I LOVE PAPI). It's more or less just a steampunk aesthetic though, yeah?

I'd also have to give this some thought! Although if anyone else has suggestions about how I could incorporate anyone, I'm certainly willing to hear them. :3

#kirby #long post

[jabbage]

#Letters from Watson #lettersfromwatson

[hippolotamus]

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

Tagged by @rmd-writes @blackandwhiteandrose & darling wife @lizzie-bennetdarcy 🥰

5 works (in no particular order)

Warm Hellos and Our Last Goodnights This one is definitely a pride and joy of mine, despite it's more serious content. Well, really because of the more serious content. Up until I published this I felt I was an author readers could count on for fluff and light-hearted feels. But the idea shouted at me and begged to be written. I'm truly glad I listened. [David/Patrick, T, CW: MCD]

What's Next? My first crack at writing Rachel, during a period when there was some fandom upheaval over her purpose in the show. By far one of my least popular offerings. It was satisfying to dig into her side of the breakup and what she may or may not have noticed before Patrick left for Schitt's Creek. [Patrick/Rachel, G]

Whatever may come (your heart I will choose) This one is... my baby, love of my life, I'll snarl if you look at it wrong. LOL (sort of). In all seriousness I have a very strong attachment to this work. There are many pieces of my own complicated coming out journey littered in every corner of it. Mapping out Eddie's journey from high school to adulthood was... let's just say I'm getting choked up thinking about it. It's safe to say I'm very proud of my Marshmallow. [Buck/Eddie, M]

My Favorite Color is You I both love this one and am quite proud of it. It's a level of E I hadn't really explored before and, while some of it could probably use some tweaks and fine tuning, I love the shit out of it. Artist!Buck being adored by one Eddie Diaz, with a side of painting each other, lives in my head rent free. Always. [Buck/Eddie, E]

The Sound of My Heart My first attempt at fake dating. It was... a wild ride from a plot planning perspective. (I use the word planning incredibly loosely here). However, I'm rather impressed at Past Me's ability to research a city I hadn't been to since my senior year of high school [redacted] years ago. Researching train schedules and the New York Botanical Gardens was probably my favorite part of the whole experience. [David/Patrick, T]

4 wips

4... really??? Okay, so the ones most likely to get published that I'm excited about:

Completing If you like Fashion & Baseball

A yet to be named Twylexis oneshot with some worry/comfort over a health scare.

For the Record [working title]: a fluffy little Buddie first kiss/getting together fic for @shortsighted-owl

Continuing to add to the Secrets & Lies universe

3 biggest improvements

Punctuation around dialog tags. Still a struggle but better than before.

Taking direction from my betas and applying those notes more consistently

Varying my word usage by eliminating duplicates and making more trips to the thesaurus.

2 resolutions

Writing multi-chapter works fully before publishing. I am terrible about this and often write myself into a corner.

Consistently adding more eyeballs to a doc for feedback.

Number 1 Favorite Line

This was insanely difficult to choose just one. I'm cheating and picking something from both fandoms:

I know all your secrets: “Never better. Should we exchange the usual my country wants you dead pleasantries first or is foreplay off the menu tonight?” 

Whatever May Come: Technically only one line used multiple times, but I absolutely adore the repetition of I love you, I love you, I love you in chapter 23. There's just so much yearning packed into it.

I don't know who has been there, done that with this but I'll tag @shortsighted-owl @vanillahigh00 @alysiswriting @sarahlevys

#54321 #ugh this was hard #hippo writes #hippo reflects

[wintersandthebeast]

36. Planning

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Link to Master List

Miranda’s Diary 

The visions of my past only grow more intense as I stay in this realm.  I am beginning to wonder if this repetition of our sorrows is what causes the minds within the mutamycete to dissipate and change, over long periods of time?  To degrade and mesh together as I have witnessed before.  

I am content with this arrangement still and do not fear the same thing happening to me.  My mind and will are strong, and I was deeply connected to the mutamycete over the century that I was outside of this realm.  However, I have begun experiencing some of the memories that do not reflect reality, as I have recorded in other catalogued minds.  Memories of my time with Eva that did not happen.  Or, reuniting with her after a successful ritual.  I wonder how this is possible?  

It may simply be that the Mold catalogues memories and dreams together and forms ‘new’ memories as if manifesting will, such as the moments I witness with Alcina and her so-called daughters.  These are fabrications that did not happen in life, but she seems convinced of their reality.  The sign of a weaker mind.

It would be fascinating to study this phenomenon on others, however, most minds here have little of their faculties remaining.  I am reluctant to remove beings from The Garden to experiment on.  Such an act might change the power I will have when returning to my human form.  They are already useful when influencing those in the physical world, such as Heisenberg.

I am getting closer to discovering a way back, and I suspect the secret lies in the reversal of the ritual with Rosemary Winters--to find this realm’s equivalent of her flasks and create a being from those crystallized remains.  A being that can serve as my vessel, and her true, pure form one day a vessel for my daughter.  

--------------

Diary of a Nobleman 

Undated

I would rather face eternal hellfire than another journey like this one--I am still chapped in places no man should be chapped.  The ride was long and it rained every forsaken day.  We could not stop to rest long, for these forests are still thick with wolves.  The Four Kings must soon expand their realm if only to hunt the damned things.  We lost two horses.  

I have been ordered by our King to serve this area, as I believe he wishes to wed the princess into this strange conglomeration of a society and secure land and mutual cooperation.  I look very much forward to uncovering the secrets of this area as they are deep in lore and legend, with not much shining light on their mystery.  The very earth seemed to warn our party away, what with the goddamned rain and wind.  And some other ghostly factor I cannot yet name, but it felt rather sinister as we approached, until we were welcomed.  

The King sent us, a large party, mostly scholars and historians, with some peasants to perform excavations of the ancient ruins.  I am neither a historian nor a peasant, but I am responsible for sending the information and reports back, as well as overseeing the process.  I have no expectations or fascinations as of yet, but have heard many rumors.  Everything from the great werewolf beasts of legend, to resurrection, to pagan death rituals, to a heavenly paradise apparently await me here!  I hope my ass is less chapped for all of that.  

Of the land and its rulers I must spend more time before a true opinion is made--however, I will say, I hate the rain! But the ground here is exceptionally fertile.  It almost feels magical in some places-I hope that is not blasphemous.  The horses and other beasts seem soothed, and the people happy.  There is an abundance of food and clean water even among the poorest.  

The noblemen and their rulers are perhaps a bit old-fashioned, but sharp.  King Heisenberg in particular was quite a character.  A very handsome man, and loud, and all too happy to have visitors.  He in fact seemed bored of his court and begged me to tell tales from home at dinner.  I enjoy spending time with him, though he strikes me as someone quick to change moods.  

And now I retire, to seek some sort of ointment for these wounds.  It is a relief to have such a beautiful castle to board in, but the place is still damp and cold and my nethers are still insulted by what I have put them through.  

-------------

The sound of Eva’s typewriter was the only noise in the room, other than Rose’s happy babbling.  Ethan was in his office, stewing away as he read the translations.  He had abruptly left the lunch table, leaving the Duke to lead more festival conversation.  And now the leather-bound pages sat in the windowsill, sometimes looking ruffled by the wind as Eva thumbed through them, typing after a pause.  

There were more notes from Miranda, but Ethan had read the most recent one with his heart racing the entire time.  Now he turned to the medieval papers for answers.  Just as he moved to pick up another paper from the stack from the typewriter, he heard the rumble of Heisenberg’s voice from below.  

Ethan, feeling indignant that he was guilty for spying, closed his eyes and focused, to hear the conversation better.  The Duke and Heisenberg were outside, standing at the Duke’s carriage; he could hear the crunch of gravel and sense them below the large window of the makeshift office.  

“....would not be that much longer!  I can bring them in less than a week.”   That was the Duke. 

“I don’t wanna risk even one more day,” Karl answered in a tired murmur.  “I shoulda’ gone earlier anyway….just been a lot goin’ on.”

The Duke laughed.  “Yes, you’ve become quite the family man!  However if I may--Ethan might understand.”

Karl didn’t respond, and the other man pressed, “You are going to tell him, aren’t you?”

Ethan heard the familiar sound of Heisenberg sighing heavily, as if he was being asked to do something impossible.  But then, thankfully, “Yep.  Shoulda’ done that too.” 

There came sounds of shuffling, grunting, as things were moved.  Discussion of money.  Exchanges made.  

“Either way, Ethan is quite good at handling himself,” the Duke said after a few more minutes.  “I wouldn’t worry too much about his capabilities if anything were to happen.”  

The compliment simply made Ethan frown.  What the hell was going on?

“Mmm,” Heisenberg responded, and now Ethan rolled his eyes.  Asshole .

“I suppose then, I will see you in a week.  Best of luck!”

Ethan opened his eyes when the heavy footfalls entered the house again, and he turned to glance into the liminal space at Eva.  She made an almost pained, exaggerated face at him from where she stood at the typewriter.  He appreciated the levity, but Ethan could only manage a small smirk as he turned back to the paperwork. 

Bootfalls ascended the stairs, and Karl appeared a minute later.  He carried a large military duffel bag on his back, and before Ethan could inquire, it was dumped out unceremoniously across an empty dresser top. 

Ethan stood and stared at an assortment of guns and ammunition.  An ARX-160.  A WASR-22.  Several detachable scopes.  Grenades.  A shotgun that Ethan couldn’t place, and a Mauser C-96.  The Mauser caught Ethan’s eye, and he strode over to the dresser, picking it up before considering the others.  “What the--”

“Glad you like that one,” Heisenberg said in a cheery voice.  “My personal choice.  Couldn’t get any of your weapons from…well…before, these should do all right for now.”

Ethan was happy to see the arsenal, especially after reading Miranda’s journal entry, but the look of admiration was swept away by one of suspicion.  “So what are you going to tell me to ruin this moment?”

Heisenberg lifted his hat and scratched his messy hair before replacing the hat, and chewing on his lip.  He finally said in a halting tone, “I uh.  I have to leave overnight.  Gotta get some uh.  Supplies.  Things….not here anymore.”  

Ethan felt dizzy.  His heart began to race.  That wasn’t what he had expected to hear.  Why was he responding this way?  His body felt conditioned to feel fear at the others leaving.  An unceremonious “I’ll be back” triggered him deeply.  Mia had left often, and explained herself never.  The blond tried to control his breathing, but he was doing a poor job.  His next question was made through ragged, uneven exhales.  His voice felt small, weak.  

“Supplies.”

“Medical, to be exact,” Karl said, tipping his head and staring curiously at the blond, and Ethan realized he actually believed the other.  He wasn’t sure if he was utilizing his powers to feel Karl’s feelings, or maybe Karl was just trustworthy.  But despite the reassurance, the fear did not go away.  He struggled to breathe without panicking, and he felt sharp pain in his chest.  

“Why do you need medical supplies?”

Karl began pacing as he often did, but he seemed more agitated than usual.  What had Miranda’s diary said?  Useful when influencing those in the physical world, such as Heisenberg. 

Ethan was in a phase of catharsis of bluntly asking questions after being with Mia for so long.  And yet his voice still sounded near cracking when he forced himself to speak again.   “Is Miranda influencing you?”

Karl actually chuckled at this, but the laugh had less of his spirited humor than normal.  His golden eyes flickered up to Ethan and he smirked.  “What do you think?”

“I’m serious,” Ethan said, feeling sweat on his palms.  He was going to fucking pass out if he didn’t get over this feeling soon.  Normally Ethan would have attempted to soothe his own anxiety--it was Karl, remember?  Karl didn’t lie, or disappear, or transport bioweapon children without telling him, or jump at the chance to work with Miranda--

The brunette paused pacing long enough to throw a hand out dismissively.

“She’s tryin, but that’s not the problem.  The problem is what she put in my head.”  Now the engineer stared at Ethan with more intensity than usual.  He seemed to be judging the others’ trustworthiness, while also looking concerned at how pale and upset Ethan appeared.  His piercing once-green eyes scanned Winters, and he struggled with putting words to what she’d done to him.  Forced him into.  Along with his own panic, Ethan could sense Heisenberg’s disgust and hatred.  

“I made a uh.  You could call it a device, or system.  Long time ago.  Sort of a now-and-then treatment.  Shocks the cadou with just the right voltage to….subdue it, or pause it.  Without killin’ me.  One of the ways I was able to not have the uh….degenerative, mental effects of the….others.”  Others was said strangely, as if Karl was also disgusted that additional people were experimented on.  

“Cadou eats away at you, slow, but it does.  Changes your body.  Sometimes slow, sometimes fast.  Your brain faster.  She mixed ‘em with…parts.  in there, an’ those things were all taken from.”  Heisenberg’s mouth snapped shut and he shook his head, too disgusted to continue.  

“My point is, Ethan, that machine I made went down with the factory, an’ I don’t have the parts here to make another.  I’ve been lookin’.”

Ethan sank onto a nearby table, pushing the weapons farther away as he struggled to take a deep breath.  He often didn’t register when Heisenberg went on a medical or engineering tangent, but this time the words went through him because of his own abandonment trauma.  Heisenberg watched this anxious response with a rather nonplussed expression, and then after a minute of silence the engineer surmised, “Guess you think I’m a real freak now, huh?”

Ethan snapped back into the moment, his eyes focusing, finally.  The thousand yard stare honing in on the engineer.  Breathless, he snapped, “What? No!  No.  I don’t….I don’t want you to go, and leave me.” 

The last few words were squeaked out in a very un-manly way, and Ethan’s lip actually trembled; he raised a pale hand to cover his mouth as if he were shocked at his own voice.  He was actually just trying to not burst into tears.  Heisenberg instantly responded, first by staring, taken aback, and then by crossing the distance between them immediately, grasping Ethan’s other hand, and gripping the back of the blond’s neck simultaneously.  

“Hey,” he said in what was an honest, but hopeless attempt at a tender voice.  “I’m just goin’ to Constanța, I’ll be back.  I won’t even sleep if you don’t want me to, I’ll get on the road right after.”

Heisenberg pulled Ethan into a hug, and frowned when the other man crumpled onto his shoulder.  “D’you uh….want…to go with me?”

“No,” Ethan sobbed.  “You’ll put Rose in an artillery shell seat again.” 

Heisenberg patted the blond’s back.  “I probably would, yeah.” 

“And you’ll probably be driving that awful truck that doesn’t top 55.”

More pats, and now stroking the silky blond hair.  “Yep.  Love that truck.”

“And you won’t change your outfit to go into town.”

Heisenberg was cradling him tenderly.  “Definitely not.”  

Ethan sobbed, then laughed, and Heisenberg chuckled with him.  When they pulled away, the blond sunk down on his table-seat again.  He looked upset, but not on the verge of a panic attack.  His reddened eyes glanced at the older man almost guiltily.  How odd it was to overhear Karl speaking with someone yet again, and for there to somehow be no real secrets between them.  Trust was a strange feeling.  

“I didn’t wanna go, was tryin’ real hard to find everythin’ here,” this part was said in a quieter than usual voice.  Heisenberg took his hat off and fiddled with the brim.  “If I don’t rig it up now….the uh…”

“Animal urges?” Ethan guessed, trying to tiptoe around words.  He remembered how Karl’s face had fallen months before when he’d used the word werewolf. And he remembered the subtle, changing loss of control over the more recent months and time spent together.  Even though Ethan was happy to submit in all physical forms to the other, he could also sense a changing, vacant side when the two were intimate.  It chilled him sometimes, and Karl always snapped out of it to backtrack into an even more tender and apologetic demeanor.  

The cadou explained these things, and though Ethan worried about the other’s rather ghoulish medical history, he also had faith in Karl’s intelligence.  Compared to the lycans with cadou, not to mention the other Lords, Karl was leagues ahead developmentally.  

Now Heisenberg nodded reluctantly, all traces of humor gone from his face.  It was rare to see him this …sad , and Ethan wasn’t quite sure he liked it.  He squeezed the hand that still held his.  

“Nother reason I don’t want you goin’,” Heisenberg said with a nod toward the window.  “She’s gettin’ power back.  She senses things through me sometimes.  Used to do it before, so I know how it feels…she can pretty well sense when I’ll leave.  Has an actual ground connection with where the mold is.  Harder inside a house, but.”

Ethan’s eyes widened.  “You want to bait her by being gone for a full day, see if she’ll try anything.”

Karl nodded, the smirk returning.  He smiled wider at Ethan’s look of disgust.  

“You want me to deal with her if she shows up? Alone?”

“I want to see her show her hand,” Karl corrected.  “She’s too fuckin’ vain to show up half-cocked.  She’s not ready to show up.  But I’d be surprised if she doesn’t do somethin’.” 

Ethan stared out the window at the expanse of land.  “I’ll be ready.”  

The thought of getting even a slight taste of revenge, of putting even one more bullet into her, gave him great and instant satisfaction.  Ethan had the strange adaptability to accept horrible circumstances without much transition (except a lot of cursing.)  

He nodded to himself as if accepting this particular incoming horrible circumstance.  Karl, knowing the depths of hatred that Winters felt, ran a hand along the other’s jaw. 

“Easy, tiger, cool your jets,” he said with admiration.  “We’re not tryin’ to take her out, just…see what she’s got up her sleeve.  You gotta figure out your side too--how to use an’ control those powers, not to mention..” his voice turned even more swaying and teasing with his accent, “....plan a party.” 

Ethan scoffed, but his frown was now a smile as he stepped toward the window.  He crossed his arms as he stared out across the valley.  

“You’re gonna let me invite Zoe,” he said after a moment.  “And pay for her ticket here.  I want to see her.”

“You got it, Papa.”  

“And you owe me a romantic date for leaving, and not telling me why sooner.” 

Heisenberg stepped up behind him, scruff on Ethan’s neck, arms wrapping around the thinner man’s torso.  His voice in Ethan’s ear was a pleasant growl.  “As you wish.”  

#winters and the beast

[distortedataraxia]

If requests are open, I hope it's okay if I request a matchup 🥺 I'm a bisexual transdude. I'm a pretty big introvert, if I go to big social things, I will need like a full day to myself at least after it or else I will have an emotional breakdown from being burnt out. Despite that, I'm a childcare worker and I adore my kids so much, little ones are my specialty. It's my dream to be a dad one day! I'm a very domestic person, my hobbies include cooking, baking, and drawing. I'm also super into fashion and like looking good whenever I go out. A malewife, some would say /hj.

I'm a big people pleaser with social anxiety, so I tend to be reserved and overly polite when I first meet people. This also tends to make me a bit of a doormat. If you mistreat me, I'll of course be upset, but I'll bottle it up and won't voice my complaints because I hate confrontation. Plus I'm an angry crier and I hate crying in front of people. I constantly have the attitude of "I'M TIRED OF BEING NICE. I'M GONNA GO APESHIT." But I never go apeshit because I need everyone to like me so much all the time.

I'm super loosened up around friends though so I can be sarcastic, teasing, and cuss quite a bit. I tend to have a bit of dark... Dazai-esque humor sometimes, it's a habit, not as bad as it used to be. I'm also pretty dirty minded lol. Also, if my loved ones need something, my anxiety will go out the window, I'd fight anyone for them.

aaaaa this is getting long so I'm so sorry, I'll just state a few more facts

- I love anything horror. Movies, video games, haunted houses, esc.

- My cats are my babies and are at the top of my Favorite People list. I like all animals though!

- I'm punk-eque I guess with a love of rock n' roll, motorcycles, and tattoos. I am my father's son lmao.

- I have a big weakness for anything cute. I have impulsively spent $20 on a bunny plush. Help.

- That being said, I'm usually super cautious with money and encourage others to do the same.

- One time I cried after killing an ant bc I put myself in its shoes and "Oh my god, he was just walking around and living his life. And now it's gone. He's just suddenly DEAD. Oh my god."

Ummm I think that's it. I really enjoy your writing and you seem really nice and I hope you have a good day ❤️

Author note : Hello !! I'm so so so so so sorryyyyyyy for the time i took to work on your request - I haven't been active at all and i don't feel like i have any valid excuse, just me being emo/20 lol. Anyways I'm sorry this is rushed and i'll doubt you'll see this but i'll do it anyways,- still sorry ! You have a good day too and take care ! 💜also i didn't know if you wanted to be paired with a girl or a boy so i just did whatever came to my brain as other people are waiting - I'm sorry this is completly my fault TT-TT If you wanted to be paired with the other gender you can request to me again that won't bother me! I won't make you wait months-long this time... I think 🥲

I pair you with.....

Ranpo!

I can already see you looking at horror movies with him with A LOT OF FOOD- Ranpo also likes cats so i'm sure you'll take care of some together - Ranpo likes to play video games too as he plays some with yosano, i'm sure he'll find a lot of time for you and him to play together ! if you go to Haunted houses together, i'm sure he'd be amused by your reactions as he already figured out where everything is and what will happen.. Or maybe he can be taken by surprise..? Who knows - that's for you to imagine ! As he is really smart no shit sherlock he will probably figure out when something is bothering you so you won't even have to say it ! I'm sure this man will beg you to bake or cook things for him and then will eat almost everything in the blink of an eye - Goodluck with that! Ranpo will be careful with you, i can already imagine a dramatic plot where one of your loved one is in danger and it's too dangerous for you and he's gonna save them but you find out and he tries to stop you from going there and then idk boom drama and- yeah -

#bsd #bungo stray dogs matcup #bungou stray dogs #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #ranpo x you #ranpo matchups #matchups #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs matchups

[henryskillerism]

Cordon Grey , ‘ Introduction

 As Written By EVENTIDE 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

There was a running joke in undergrad that the people who chose psychology as their major, were only doing so in order to learn about their own illnesses.

Throughout the course of those four years, I came to believe that stereotype as I discussed personal lives amongst my peers.

The ones that continued past the collegiate level to further their careers were a much smaller class, and I went on to observe their behaviors (sometimes wondering if they were doing the same), and found myself utterly intrigued by the textbook disorders I was witnessing.

The only thing is, they were able to mask their symptoms much too easy due to the singular fact that all of our studies explained them in great detail.

Most called it quits after receiving a masters.

To have mastered a subject is quite an accomplishment, but only those of us sick enough pushed though until we signed M.D. after our names.

You see, that’s the tricky part about our society - the glitch, if you will.

Those of us trained to heal, taught to handle trauma with a calm demeanor, built to comfort those that are sick… we are the ones who need it the most.

Page Break 

My first 𝐩𝐞𝐭 was this sweet little brunette who had been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder soon after she turned eighteen.

I was assigned to her case when I assisted at the campus clinic, shadowing one of the therapists that taught an upper level course in psychology.

It was the final year of my bachelor’s, so I wasn’t allowed much (any, really) contact with the patients.

So, in true stalker fashion, I picked up on her habits and routines surrounding your weekly shrink visits.

And like most people - as I would come to learn over the years - she had very obvious patterns.

First being that she would always have a smoke after her session, regardless of how the conversation went.

One day, I got brave (I didn’t know how to speak to women back then; some would say I’ve grown into that), and asked her for a light.

I coughed when I inhaled the cigarette, a telltale sign that my lungs were not prepared. I hoped she didn’t notice that, along with a few other things.

I learned her name was Violet.

She was a freshman, states away from any family, and she hadn’t made any friends in her new city.

We started as friends;

She ended up in a large dog crate that I had shoved beneath the lifted twin bed in my dorm room.

I drugged her to keep her quiet, but we had many in depth conversations when she was conscious.

I was able to keep her for the entirety of the semester, without anyone catching onto our little secret.

She didn’t beg for her life - that’s why I let her go.

Sometimes I think about Violet and where she is in the world today.

Did you make it out there, little sadness?

Or did the pain get the best of you?

The second - a fiery redhead with a criminal record.

We crossed paths during my time volunteering at the local jail in my late twenties.

I was nearing completion of my masters and had to write a thesis based off my hands-on experience with the prison’s mental healthcare system, or lack thereof.

Explosive personality disorder.

There was a lot of anger trapped in such a small girl. It captured my attention the very first day.

I admired her from afar until her short sentence had been served.

But the day of her release, I made sure to request off.

I was waiting for her.

She was only rewarded with a few breaths of fresh air before she someone new’s captive.

By then, I had enough income to afford an apartment in the suburbs, which had a second bedroom I had prepared for her.

Admittedly, it was difficult to get her unconscious body up the two flights of stairs without any notice from the complex neighbors, but after that, everything went according to plan.

Amelia had layers. She wasn’t always so vicious.

And when put in the predicament she was in, her hard exterior crumbled after a few days with no food or water.

She told me of her childhood, her abusive mother, and the things that led her down a path of delinquency.

I felt.. sympathy for her, but I couldn’t name that emotion at the time.

I only knew I wanted no harm to come to her; so on the last day of the third month of her stay, I granted her freedom with a conditional threat of her life if she were to ever speak of this.

I believed her when she promised her silence.

I received an A on my thesis.

I owe that to you, Amelia.

And then came the third.

Lily.

She was my first patient scheduled at my newly open solo practice.

I liked her.. very much.

She was a writer; quiet and I never quite got her comfortable with me.

Unfortunately, my time with her was cut short.

I made an error when measuring the dose of sedative on the day of her taking and she seized to death in my arms before I could ever transport her out of my office.

I still have nightmares.

I wish I could’ve gotten to know you, Lily. 
Your likes and dislikes; the things that haunt your mind.

But now, you are just one of my ghosts. 

 Page Break 

“Dr. Grey, your 3pm appointment is here.”

I had picked up the phone in my office mid-thought. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

However, if I were to defend my paranoia, I wouldn’t know where to start.

There was no tangible evidence to lead to my suspicions, but yet still, it consumed my thoughts.

“Sarah, I have asked you this many times. State the name of the patient when you are alerting me to their arrival.”

“Yes… Sorry, Dr. Grey. Ms. Tudor is here for her appointment.”

Ah, yes, my newest obsession. I had plans for you.

“You may send her in.” Click.

I didn’t give my ditzy receptionist enough time to respond before I hung up the phone. I didn’t take well to repeating myself and she had made me do so numerous times.

I opened my desk drawer to pull out a fresh notepad, catching a glimpse of Lily’s favorite pen, which I kept close by to remind me of my failures.

I would never make the same mistake again. She deserved a better doctor.

And that, I would be. For you, Henry.

#Writing DarkAcademia Fiction Horror RP Roleplay JosephMorgan TherapistAnaDeArmas FanFiction

[nx-communicato]

The Funny Thing About Leeches…

…is that with their puckered faces they always look so bitter and pissed off even when suckling the humors right out of you.

I’m still so unclear about what it is that I’m supposed to be accomplishing if anything here… But, in my defense, I think that is due to dissension amongst the myriad of tutors regarding what needs to be accomplished.

For instance, I (and here I do beg pardon for my ignorance but I am going to list what I feel are the purposes, doing my best not to pin any set plans on any specific people - also to note is with no set start date to log I will be referring to the onset of my awareness as the beginning):

…am I being penalized for past malignments, a term of sentence to be spent in accordance with some unknown scale of crime & punishment? If so, I wish I would be informed so that I would cease this belaboring keep quiet and serve my time in the most polite way I could so as to avoid causing further harm to befall those injured parties by my incessant tongue.

…am I being retrained to strip away any barbaric or disruptive bad habits and reprogrammed with civically dictated good ones so that I shall be accepted back into society as a model citizen forthwith in all fashions of productivity, dedication and devotion. Here I would include rehabilitation for all manners of consumption and hedonistic tendencies that by accordance fall outside the box of our neo-protestant reformation, and methinks the one doth protest too much for mosts’ tastes. By God’s will, if we could just get him to give up those nasty cigarettes, dietary proteins and processed or manufactured food and drink he may still yet become something of worth.

…am I demonstrating that somewhere amidst all this rubbish there does truly exist character of quality worth keeping; or does he lack any motivation or sense of responsibility. Is there a semblance of drive or work ethic hidden within or is he truly just a lazy deadbeat beatnik who gives up shortly after starting every venture the moment he sees adversity and shies away from confrontation to the point of becoming the epitome of an ineffective dilettante fop? He sure talks a good game in regards to upholding the tenets of virtue and a firm code of honor but does he actually live by his proclaimed code or is it all just flowery semantics sprinkled about to add a lustrous sparkle to what in reality is a painted turd.

…am I so broken, embittered and jaded by all of this that I want nothing further to do with my so-called friends and family and at this point only desire escape from this torment so I can be free to spend the rest of my life anonymously toiling away in drudgery to pay off this massive debt you’ve created for me until I die? Yes.

As to the earlier questions, I am not sure what you’re expectations were, but if you take someone already pushed to his limits, then break his heart, and prevent communication essentially isolating him, never give him a chance to heal while enduring a non-stop barrage of emotional abuse and psychological gas-lighting, keep him in in a prison pit of financial control while the pendulum of debt’s burden creeps closer and closer, no booze or anything to cut the pain, then establish that to continue he must chemically imbalance himself further now with out-of-whack dopamine receptors in his brain so he generates no pleasure which is just as well because no treat has been given for all his tricks performed, you won’t even grant him masturbation to relieve some of the stress without alerting the press, while badgering him about a lack of motivation and when no resolution is offered accuse him of quitting, question his every action with intense public scrutiny, take away everything he stands for or has accomplished, broadcasting every flaw or mistake made, then take the single most altruistic and noble thing he has ever done in his life and twist it into a mockery of what it was and use it against him like a whip or cattle prod to further his torment and suffering, then wonder why he’s not so much fun to play with? “You are nothing like you used to be!”

I’m lucky to still be alive! Wait, no… check that. Perhaps it is true - but it’s not by good luck delivered. So whenever your through with your playtime, would you mind putting your quarry out of his misery. I offered myself as a sacrifice already with no takers… I guess you must still be entertained.

By my count, I was probably 25 when things changed course… young, dumb but still vibrant and full of potential. I generously gave seven years of my life happily for a shared dream. Then when that started to fall apart I stuck through for another eight years of slowly increasing sorrow, anger and frustration. Then, when I was finally released and thought for a brief stint I may find happiness, out of spite and revenge you snatched another eight… and now, because of what you have wrought upon my life through your machinations, I have watched all my dreams shattered and am in a position where even if I spend every day until I die working to pay it off - I will die still in debt. However many years I manage to eke out ahead of me… they are ruined for you too. So at least I had 25 good years at the beginning… wait, no… come to think of it I was harassed and bullied as a kid too. But I’m sure I must have had some good years in there somewhere. Why would God create a life just to see how much capricious and wicked suffering it can take over the course of a lifetime… I must have been Hitler in a past life to have earned this much bad karma. C’est la vie. C’est la mon merde vie.

#impossibledream #close the book

[eldritchfeline]

does quin feel guilty for what's happened? are there still hyacinths in his garden, purple as the dusk?? did he play a role in laev's resurrection at all? if not, does he wish he had, instead of using magic to soften the blow? how does quin feel about the whole magical forgetting thing anyway. would he do it again, or rather, what would he do differently.

you are my favorite person.

read more to spare folks

does quin feel guilty for what's happened?

Very much so! Guilt is a huge, huge, huge burden for Quin after Laev's death. Essentially, users of Light magic were better equipped for handling the undead threat that swept through their city, and Quin was no exception to this. He and numerous other Light users holed up in a building alongside a collection of civilians who were effectively relying on Quin and his group to protect them.

However, Quin begged to be able to find Laev and bring him back, knowing he was one of the few people out there who could safely navigate the undead menace and return with Laev. Those in charge basically posed a question to Quin--could he trade one life for everyone that was already here, needing his protection?

In the end, Quin chose to protect more lives and it's a decision that haunted him every single day until the loss of his memory. He knows, knows he made the choice to abandon Laev to his death and it ate him alive, tore him apart with grief and guilt and it was no comfort knowing he'd saved numerous lives in the process. This is what motivates him later to kill someone in Laev's defense--he couldn't stand to lose Laev again because of inaction.

are there still hyacinths in his garden, purple as the dusk??

Quin's garden is interesting because he doesn't remember Laev, and yet he plants flowers of mourning and grief for reasons he doesn't quite remember. He tells himself it's because of the fall of his city and his people and his family, but that doesn't quite sit right with him. He tells others that he finds them pretty, that the flowers bring him a sort of peace, but that doesn't sit right either. Nothing ever quite feels right anymore, and he has no idea why.

did he play a role in laev's resurrection at all? if not, does he wish he had, instead of using magic to soften the blow?

He did not! In regards to Laev's resurrection, I'm gonna phone in @feyshine for this one, because they know all the details of Laev's resurrection and how he came back. If he could've though, he would've done everything in his power to bring back Laev, although even with Light magic he would've been pretty limited. It'd take an incredibly skilled Light user to bring someone back from the dead, a project that likely would've taken Quin a lifetime to accomplish assuming he could accomplish it at all. Trying to reconcile his grief seemed like the more practical answer.

how does quin feel about the whole magical forgetting thing anyway. would he do it again, or rather, what would he do differently.

Trying to treat himself using impromptu brain surgery was a pretty last ditch effort--Quin, despite believing strongly in treating grief and regrets as quickly as possible instead of lingering on them, did in fact sit in his grief for a considerable amount of time. He languished for a while, at his worst point, he contemplated death fleetingly, and that's when he knew he had to act in some sort of fashion.

He genuinely felt like he had no other choice but to try and purge his grief through his own methods, he would've felt like a cornered animal. He doesn't exactly regret it--it kept him going, kept him functional and let him survive long enough to reunite with Laev.

Ideally, he would've reached out to others for support, but he had pretty limited options. His family had died in the attack on the city, and he had basically no friends besides Laevinas--being a half-elf earned him no favor, and the rumors that he dabbled in void magic didn't help either. That really only left the one option, and it's one he'd take again. It was, as far as he was concerned, the only way he'd survive.

#stupid text posts #laevquin my beloved!!!!!!! #thank you for sending questions it made my whole day!!!!!

[ijustwant2write]

His Protector-Fred Weasley x Reader

(GIF credit to @winter-and-zombies​)

Masterlist

Prompts Lists

Summary: At the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred is saved by (Y/N), a close friend of the twins. Both have always had feelings for the other, and in true cliche fashion, neither have admitted this. Years after the battle (where things are somewhat back to normal), the twins have remained friends with her, but it’s only at a Weasley family party does (Y/N) finally say something.

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of death, PTSD, injuries, blood, lots of fluff

(A/N: This is quite long! And also the first time I’ve written for Harry Potter, blame it on my FYP on Tik Tok)

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There were no dry eyes from anyone gathered in the Great Hall. It was full of students, resting from the battle and treating injuries, or mourning over friends who didn't make it. Some were huddled together as they sobbed, others keeping to themselves as they tried to stop the horrifying images keep playing in their minds.

The Weasley’s were gathered around Fred, who was laid out on a makeshift stretcher, tears streaming down their faces as they waited for some sign of him waking up. He had dried blood on his face and partly in his hair. When he was first carried in, their immediate thoughts had been he was dead, because he seemed so lifeless. They were extremely grateful when they realised he was breathing, and he had a heartbeat.

Molly stroked back her son’s hair, trying to calm herself down as to not alarm her children. Never in her life did she think they would have to go through something like this, especially at such a young age. These were her babies, and she was going to protect them with her life like any mother would. George sat beside Fred opposite his mum, praying that his brother's eyes would soon open. Although it had been confirmed that he would be alright, albeit with a few injuries, seeing him lying there made it feel like he wasn’t with them anymore. Suddenly, Fred began to stir, scrunching up his eyes and moaning as he felt the pain throbbing through his body.

“How you feeling Freddie?” George quickly asked as the family got closer.

Fred mumbled something, but no one could understand. 

“What was that Fred?” Molly quietly said.

“(Y/N)...”

“Who? Who are you talking about?” Molly was sure she had heard the name before, perhaps when the boys were still at school. 

“(Y/N), where is she?” Fred moaned.

“I don’t know Freddie.” George replied.“I haven’t seen her since you were brought in.”

“Is..is sh-sh-she a-alive?” Fred was still weak, struggling to speak.

“Fred, please, just rest for now.” Molly begged, not wanting to see him in pain any longer.

“Sh-she’s d-dead?”

As the family struggled to keep Fred still and stop him from panicking, Ginny backed away, knowing the only way Fred would settle was if she found (Y/N). When Fred was carried in, (Y/N) had also been brought him right behind him, but they were separated. She was taken off towards her friends, and in the heat of the moment, Ginny hadn’t questioned if she was alright, making her feel awful.

Although (Y/N) had been close to the twins, she hadn’t been as mischievous as them, not wanting multiple detentions or to get in any trouble as much as they did. It was a surprising friendship between them, especially when (Y/N) was so nice to Ginny, despite the age difference; she was always surprised that the boys never invited her round to their home during the holidays. Because she saw how Fred would sneak glances at the girl, always rolling her eyes at how obvious he was being with his feelings, yet neither one did anything about it. 

Ginny ignored the calls from her dad when she set off in the hall to find (Y/N), bombarding her peers with questions, desperate to find her as quickly as possible. Luckily amongst everyone, she spotted (Y/N)’s friends huddled on the floor, holding onto the unconscious girl’s hands. Ginny startled them as she rushed over.

“Is she...” Ginny started.

“She’s alive. But she’s weak.” one of her friends sniffled.

“We need to move (Y/N).” Ginny demanded.

“What?” 

“She needs to be beside Fred.”

“Why?”

“She just does! Come on, help me move her. Please!”

The girls glanced between each other, and they knew Ginny wouldn’t be requesting such a thing for no reason. They struggled to navigate her body on the stretcher through the people, Ginny going ahead and commanding that they move out of the way. All eyes were on (Y/N), wondering why they were moving her. Ginny gently ushered George and her father out of the way, the men helping lay (Y/N) down on the floor. Fred also watched, slowly turning his head to look at her, expecting to see her beautiful eyes staring back. But when he saw they were shut, he panicked. He shakily reached out for her hand, struggling to find it as they were crossed over on her stomach. George took on her hands, placing it in Fred’s, smiling at the size difference.

Molly and Arthur looked at each other, wondering why this girl was so special to Fred and also why they hadn’t been told much about her.

“This is (Y/N). She saved Fred’s life.” Ginny explained to her parents."She's alive Fred."

Fred didn't reply, still staring at her and grasping onto her hand. His mind flashed back to seeing her save him, hearing how angry and upset she was as she shouted out her spell, somehow defending him from his death and saving herself. He had blacked out before he could see if she was safe. Although he heard Ginny, it didn't make him feel any better. He just wanted to see her eyes open. That was it.

"(Y/N)." he tried to raise his voice, but his throat was so hoarse that it came out as a whisper. He tried shaking her hand slightly, and again, he was too weak to even do that.

George held (Y/N)'s other hand, trying to help his brother wake up their friend. He too wanted her to wake up, and not just for his brother's sake. Her eyes fluttered open, then quickly shut again. Instinctively she was going to rub her eyes until she realised her hands were preoccupied.

"What's happening?" she breathed out, looking around at the Weasley family.

"You're safe dear." Molly reassured her.

"You're alive." Fred smiled, relief flooding through him.

(Y/N) only realised it was Fred talking beside her, breathlessly laughing as her head lulled to the side. There he was, alive just as she was.

"Fred? Oh my...Y-you're here."

"All thanks to you." George smiled, squeezing her hand.

"I'm so..." she gulped before continuing."I'm so happy you're both safe."

"Please don't do that again." Fred begged.

"Do what?"

"Put yourself in danger to save me."

"Don't be stupid Freddie. You can thank me later."

"Let me guess...lots and lots of chocolates."

"Exactly."

                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) yawned as she packed up her things from work, tired after another long week. She passed co-workers, waving goodbye and smiling as she left the building. As she put on her hat, she looked up at the sky, smiling at the sight of snow falling. It was turning dark, and seeing the snowflakes illuminated by the street lights made the street she walked down everyday look beautiful. (Y/N) took her first few steps towards her route home, suddenly stopping for an unknown reason. Something was pulling her in the other direction, she wanted to take a different path today.

Following her instincts, she walked in the opposite direction, hypnotised by the weather around her. Once she reached the end of the street, she looked up at the sign post, and the only part of it not covered in snow was the one that said 'Diagon Alley'. She hadn't been down there for so long, she hadn't seen two certain men for so long.

Why was she headed there? And of all the times to go, why now? She hadn't seen the twins for months, not because she didn't want to, but because she was so busy, as were they. Continuing her walk, she thought back to how often they would spend time together, especially after what happened to Hogwarts. She needed solidarity, she needed to be reminded that Fred was still there, that she didn't dream saving him, it had to be real. (Y/N) would regularly visit them, or vice versa, trying to act like everything was normal and that they weren't effected by anything that had happened.

The shops were closed, she could see the owners locking up, beginning to tidy everything away. Lights were dim, signs now said 'closed' and she was one of the few people left in the street after a busy day of shopping. As (Y/N) approached 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes', she grew nervous, wondering if this really was a good idea. She hadn't seen them for all this time and now she was suddenly turning up on their shop doorstep? Was it rude? Was she being stupid in thinking that they would be totally fine seeing her after a working day?

Mustering up as much courage as she could, (Y/N) forced herself to the front door, seeing that no last minute customers were left. She tried opening the door, luckily it was open, and let herself in.

"Sorry, we're closed!" a voice shouted out.

"Even for me?" she cheekily called back, giggling when a confused George poked his head around a pile of boxes.

He grinned, practically running towards (Y/N) with his arms open wide."Where have you been little miss?"

"I'm sorry, I know this is a random visit but...I don't know, I just thought of coming to see you and Freddie."

"You're welcome here any time of any day. You know that."

They pulled apart, still smiling."Thanks, I just feel bad that I've not made much effort."

"Hey, we're all busy now. Don't worry about it. I'll go get Fred, he's going to love this!"

George was ecstatic as he dashed off to find his brother. All of them were to blame for not catching up more often than they used to, and he had seen how it effected Fred. They had all been each others support system after the battle, but it was clear that Fred and (Y/N) hugged a little tighter than they used to, looked into each others eyes longer, and smiled as much as possible when together. George had always wanted to set them up (he would have preferred involving pranks somehow) and that old itch was back. These two were hopeless with their feelings for one another, he just had to give them a little push in the right direction...into each others arms.

"Freddie!" George exclaimed, laughing when his brother almost dropped a box out of fright.

"What?" Fred sighed as he recovered, placing the box on the floor. He just wanted to get the stock out for the next morning and go home.

"Come see who has paid us a visit."

George said no more, going back to the shop floor, leaving Fred rolling his eyes as he followed. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as they slid down his arms, not paying much attention to his surroundings. So when he looked up and he saw her, his mouth dropped open, shocked to see (Y/N) standing there.

"Would you just get over here and hug me?" (Y/N) joked, though not as boldly as she used to.

Fred just laughed as he did what she said, reaching down to wrap his long arms around her. She had miss how he held her, how tightly he clung onto her, as if it were their last hug ever. George just stood there, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for them to finish.

"What are you doing here?" Fred asked.

"Just wanted to see you both." (Y/N) simply stated.

"Well I'm glad you did."

"How about we go for some drinks? It is the end of the week after all." George suggested.

(Y/N) nodded."Yeah, I'm up for that."

"Well then, let's get packed up Freddie."

(Y/N) offered to help, but the twins refused. They came in and out of the stock room, being as quick as they could. (Y/N) took the opportunity to walk around, see what items they were selling. There were some new products, but most were older classics. She reminisced over all the times the boys used pranks such as the ones in the shop, and how they could sometimes get a lighter punishment, just because everyone loved them. She took part in a few schemes here and there, but only the harmless ones, the ones that would only land her in detention if they got caught.

She came to a stand that held numerous love potions. She smiled as she remembered making Amortentia in her lessons. That had been an awkward class. No one wanted to be picked on and asked what theirs smelt like, not in front of their peers. (Y/N) knew who's hers smelt like as soon as the lid of the bottle popped off.

"No luck in the love department then?" George smirked as he put on his coat.

"Hm?" (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention, thinking back on old times.

"Still not found 'the one'?"

"Oh, no, I don't have time for any of that."

"Well, hopefully Mr Right just stumbles into your life." George was growing more excited by the second.

"Yeah, hopefully."

"Right, ready to go?" Fred appeared.

"Yes-Oh!" George startled them."Freddie, I just had a great idea."

"Oh here we go." (Y/N) joked.

"(Y/N) should come home with us, to the Burrow, for mum's party!"

"A party? Why is your mum throwing a party?"

"Dad got a little bonus at work, mum thinks it's something to celebrate. And it's an excuse for her to get the whole family back together."

"That is an amazing idea actually." Fred beamed.

"I can't impose on something like that. Especially since it's a family thing."

"Nonsense." the twins said in unison.

"Are you sure? I mean, I haven't seen your family for so long."

"Mum would love it." Fred reassured her.

"OK then!" (Y/N) grinned."I've always loved a Weasley party."

"That's settled then," George opened the door,"we'll discuss the details over those drinks that are waiting for us."

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Smoothing down her dress once again, (Y/N) checked her tights for any holes or ladders. She had planned her outfit a week before the party, changing her mind countless times before she finally decided on what she wanted to wear. All morning, her heart had been racing, stomach twisting into knots as nerves got the better of her. Why was she so nervous? She had met the Weasley’s many times, she even stayed the Burrow!

There was a knock at the door, meaning the boys were here to pick her up. Sighing, she checked herself one last time in the mirror before going to answer the door. As she opened it, she noticed it was only Fred standing there, no sign of George.

"Hi, where's George?" she asked as she let Fred inside the flat. She took a note of the smart-casual shirt he was wearing; thank god, she was dressed correctly.

"He's waiting downstairs. Said he can't be arsed to walk up all those stairs. Even though there is a lift..."

"Since when did he become so lazy?" (Y/N) giggled, grabbing her handbag and keys. Turning back around, she saw Fred staring at her.

"(Y/N), you look..." Fred was speechless, which was rare for him. He always had a witty remark, a joke or a flirty comment at the ready, but when he was around (Y/N), those words seemed to get stuck in his throat,"...beautiful."

(Y/N) smiled, ducking her head to hide her blush."Th-thanks Freddie. You look very handsome too."

There were so many more words that he wanted to use to compliment her. He wanted to slap himself for using such a basic word. (Y/N) was gorgeous, she was dazzling, he could believe such a smart, independant and caring woman was in his life. Why did he have to stutter or forget how to speak when he was around her? The real words he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but they would never leave there.

Awkwardly laughing, they left the flat, meeting George outside. George noticed their pink cheeks but didn't mention it, knowing they had embarrassed themselves enough in front of each other.

The journey was full of banter and inside jokes, making it seem like they were students again at Hogwarts. (Y/N)'s nerves about seeing the Weasley’s again had disappeared, but new ones emerged. And they were all because of Fred. (Y/N) wasn't stupid, she had always had feelings for him. But after the battle, she hadn't snatched him up, something held her back, and she just couldn't bring herself to even talk to Fred about it, like any other normal adult would.

The Burrow was just ahead, now the nerves were taken over by excitement. Fred and George reminded (well, warned) (Y/N) how excited their mum was going to be, but she didn't mind. It would be great to receive such an inviting reception. She walked between the twins up to the house, letting them go in first, hesitating slightly as she took in how many people were there; they weren't joking when they said everyone would be there.

"Mum, look who else we brought." Fred struggled to say as he was smothered with kisses across his face.

Molly finally let him go, her smile turning into a shocked expression before letting out a scream, making everyone jump. She didn't waste time bringing (Y/N) into a bone crushing hug. (Y/N) would have laughed if she could breathe, but didn't complain.

"Oh, it's so good to see you dear! It's been too long since you've been back here." Molly held (Y/N)'s cheeks in her hands, looking at how the young girl she knew had turned into a beautiful woman.

“I couldn’t say no when Fred and George invited me.” (Y/N) said through squished lips. 

“Alright mum, give her some air.” George gently chuckled.

“Oh, this is so nice.” Molly beamed, glancing between (Y/N) and Fred, who was already looking at her. 

It took a good ten minutes for the twins and (Y/N) to greet everyone. She always forgot how many Weasley’s there were, some she had not seen for years. Homemade food was laid out on the table (far more than what was needed), everyone nibbling at anything they fancied as they spoke over drinks. There was a toast held for Arthur, who humbly thanked everyone, bashful over Molly’s speech; and she didn’t leave out mentioning how lovely it was that the family was extending, referring to (Y/N). She had blushed too much recently, avoiding eye contact with Fred as everyone stared at the pair who were stood together.

The day was moving on too quickly, it was becoming dark outside, and she didn’t want the night to end. The family had split into groups, still having much to talk about. (Y/N) decided to refill her drink, parting from the others to head to the kitchen. Just as she found another bottle to open, someone appeared beside her. Craning her neck upwards, she flinched back as Fred held out her coat to her, along with her hat, scarves and gloves.

“We’re not leaving are we?” (Y/N) frowned, not wanting to leave.

“Just popping out.” Fred smiled.

After getting wrapped up, (Y/N) followed Fred outside. Once again, it was lightly snowing, starting to stick to the ground which was already frosty, the sound of grass crunching underneath their shoes. She nonchalantly looped her arm through his, snuggling into him (if he asked, she would blame it on the cold), her heart fluttering when Fred instead wrapped his arm around her shoulders, meaning they could be closer. They didn’t stray too far from the house, Fred casting Lumos to light the way. There was a crumbling stone wall which Fred confidently hopped onto. (Y/N) waited for some part of it to collapse, and when it didn't, she joined him, having to jump higher to reach the top. He laughed, forgetting how much advantage his height have him almost everyday.

"We've never sat here before." (Y/N) commented.

"Honestly, I didn't even know it was here."

"So we were just wandering around?" (Y/N) smiled.

"Yeah." Fred confessed.

“How come you wanted to get out of the house?”

“Uh...I wanted to, well, I thought we could talk.”

“About?” she dragged out the word.

“When I saw you again, after all this time, I realised what an idiot I’ve been.”

“What do you mean?”

“Obviously we’re busy, we’ve both got jobs and it’s always harder to meet up. But I regret that so much. After...what happened at Hogwarts, you were my rock, I always felt normal around you, as if nothing had happened. We were able to carry on with our lives like we had planned. When I didn’t see you, I would lie awake all night with that image of you beside me in the hall. It would never go away.”

“Why have you never told me any of this?” 

“I’ve been too scared to reveal anything. I didn’t want to bring anything up, because who would want to be with someone who is still stuck in the past?”

“I would. Fred, you’re not alone in this. I’ve always felt the same. I visited you all those times because my mind would make me think that I never saved you. And if I hadn’t....I don’t know how I would have gone on. Because if I didn’t have you in my life-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, please. We’ve been through so much that we shouldn’t have. But we’re here now, together again.”

Fred held her hand, slowly interlocking their fingers. They both looked down, butterflies erupting in their stomach. The pair glanced at each other, quickly looking away when they realised how close their faces were.

“Why are we acting like kids at school again?” (Y/N) laughed.

“You’re asking the guy who owns and runs a joke shop with his brother, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped being a kid.”

“We did, once.”

“(Y/N), we don’t have to think about that anymore. It’s in the past.”

“Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember the last time we were in a situation like this? When you actually had the courage to ask me to the Yule ball?”

“And we went as friends?”

She nodded.“Yep. You know, I was a little disappointed when you added that part.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was sort of hoping you would ask me out as well. Then when you said that, and I just gave up trying. You never noticed me flirting anyway.”

“I never asked you because I never knew. And you also had guys after you so I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“Are you joking? Fred, no one else was wanting to date me.”

“Now you’re the one who is joking.”

“Well...”

“Well?”

“Let’s not make this more awkward than it already is.”

“Oh it’s awkward now?”

“Fred!” (Y/N) exclaimed but couldn’t help laughing along with him.

“No, no, I’m enjoying this.”

“Fred Weasley, after all this time being idiots and wasting time not being together...”

“What? Did you change your mind-”

(Y/N) didn’t know how to say it, instead closing the already small gap them and kissing him. Fred was shocked by how forward she was, but wasted no time kissing back. Her hands cupped his cheeks as Fred’s hands wound themselves around her waist. This had been long overdue. As they pulled away, breathless from the passionate kiss, Fred started to chuckle.

“What is it?” (Y/N) asked.

“Mum is gonna scream when she finds out about this.”

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