#fizz does many stupid and bad things

[diagonal-queen]

hii! can i request hunting dogs with clumsy s/o?

Hunting Dogs with a clumsy S/O

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura, Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: What are the Hunting Dogs like with an S/O who's clumsy?

♡ cw: Swearing, mentions of getting hurt/bumping into things/getting accidental cuts, mention of alcohol

note: It's been a while since I actually posted some proper writing. I genuinely do apologise you guys- there's not really any good excuse for me taking as long as I have. Long work hours and bad home life combined have me absolutely fuckin spent, but I know that's also the case for other writers who still manage to produce work on at least a semi-regular basis. I just wanna try and get on top of some of my reqs that've been gathering dust in my drafts lmao. Thank you guys for your support and I love you all <3 apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

I'm gonna be so real with you right now bro literally doesn't care

Like he gives absolutely no fucks that you're clumsy. Fuck you could trip into one of his many barrels of alcohol and fully destroy it and he just wouldn't even be mad

He'd just help you up and be like 'ah you're so cute when you trip over and faceplant and destroy my stuff <33' (probably not that far from verbatim to be honest)

I genuinely don't know what else to tell you other than 'he doesn't care', because he doesn't. Any mess you make, he'll have it cleaned up. Any precious item you break, he'll just replace it.

His only real concern is you somehow hurting yourself, but even then he's not really that worried because he'll find some insanely talented doctor to fix you right up. It wouldn't be an inconvenience for him at all

(Fukuchi IS a sugar daddy and nobody except me has ever acknowledged it and it's lowkey bothering me like c'mon be so for fucking real guys)

All this being said, he probably wouldn't let you carry something extremely valuable like amenogozen (not like he would let you carry it anyway, but your clumsiness does contribute to his overprotectiveness of that stupid dumbass sword)

As always, he will get pissed if anyone else gives you a hard time for your clumsiness

Your whole dynamic is basically just Ozzie and Fizz lowkey

He really just lets you do your thing honestly, he doesn't care whether it's imperfect or whatever. If you're clumsy, then clumsiness is automatically cute tf

Jouno:

Jouno's like the total opposite of clumsy, literally every particle of his being is perfectly coordinated at all times

So he might be upset at first to learn that your motor skills aren't as up to scratch as his are.

You need to remind him that hey, how does he expect a regular ass person to measure up to a genetically modified super soldier? (which is a totally fair argument that even he doesn't rebut)

And after some consideration he's like 'okay fair' and tries to get used to your clumsiness. Keyword being 'tries'; he's not always perfect at tolerating it, but he's doing his best and that's what counts

If you're the kind of person who curses when you stub your toe (or god forbid that thing where you bump your hipbone on the corner of the table for some reason), he's totally cool with that. He's fully okay with swearing

He just doesn't really like when you randomly yell or cry out in pain really loudly/right near him because of the auditory overload

If you cry he will take the time to calm you down and kiss whatever part of your body you hurt better (pretends to hate it but absolutely doesn't)

Uses your clumsiness as an excuse to hold your hand when you guys go out together <3 he also likes feeling your pulse speed up when he touches you

Will randomly pull you in certain directions while you guys are out walking and when you're like 'why?' he'll be like 'you were about to walk into a pole sweetheart' then you turn back around and yeah he was right

Tecchou:

One of my favourite versions of Tecchou is aloof himbo Tecchou so that's what we're going with. Anyways he would be like '...just stop dropping things tf'

It doesn't take him that long to accept that fact that sometimes you're just clumsy without being able to control it and he probably shouldn't trust you with dangerous or fragile object

It probably secretly annoys him a bit at first but he doesn't wanna make you feel bad about

His attention quickly turns to prioritising your safety, so ultimately he doesn't really care

He's really strong so a lot of the time if you have to carry something heavy he just offers to carry it instead. Not only will he be saving you from back pain but he may also potentially be preventing your toes from being shattered under the weight of whatever you would have been carrying

Tecchou would want to cook for you to keep you away from all the kitchenware and appliances, but you don't let him because you know he'll whip up something absolutely abhorrent. Even if you sometimes get nicked with knives or touch hot pans, it's better than eating his food (sorry Tecchou)

He wouldn't want you to leave your place on your own if the weather is rainy or something because that means the pavement/ground is slippery (if you ask him to carry you the chance of him saying yes is surprisingly high actually)

If you ever bump into him, he'll act nonchalant about it but he would be blushing and sweating and shaking and panicking and screaming crying throwing up hyperventilating fanboying dying

Teruko (platonic):

Like most...general traits that a human could have, Teruko would probably make fun of you for it at first

Eventually her teasing would become more lighthearted and silly instead of genuine, but if anyone else tried to bully for you it it's on SIGHT

Teruko can be clumsy sometimes, but more often than not it's just harmless things like carrying a stack of documents and not making sure to secure it so that sheets of paper don't fly off the top

When it comes to her physical strength and combat everything she does is very intentional and coordinated. If you see her actively being clumsy she probably really does not care about what she's doing lol

She's the kind of person to do dart and knife throwing for fun but if you're even in close range of a blade she freaks out and worries that you're gonna fatally wound yourself somehow

If you do end up getting hurt she'll help fix up your injury, like cleaning wounds or bandaging you up or whatever, but she'll chide you about it the whole time (she's hiding the fact that she's secretly super concerned for you)

Absolutely has a phone recording of you tripping and eating shit and always threatens to send it to people unless you buy her food or something like that lmao

Unlike Jouno or Tecchou she's a little bit of a prick and doesn't warn you when you're about to bump into something and then laughs when you bump into said something

I mean she won't let you get hurt hurt but also seeing people get hurt is funny sometimes lmao

Tachihara:

Let's not pretend that this motherfucker isn't also a clumsy bastard

C'mon the two of you are constantly tripping over your own feet let alone each other's feet. You're an accidental chaotic dual MESS

I mean Tachihara is a little less clumsy than you, being a Hunting Dog and all, but if he's sleep-deprived or drunk or something like that he is a literal safety hazard. He definitely doesn't realise how much of a unit he is

As such, he doesn't really mind that you're also clumsy. If you drop things or whatever he doesn't get upset, just helps you pick/clean them up like the sweetheart he is

Also tries to catch you if you trip over (his success rate is improving steadily) but may also fall over in the process so you never really know

He uses his metal manipulation to keep you from getting hurt. If you're in the kitchen and you're about to drop a pot on the ground he catches it before it lands on your feet. Is he really your man if he doesn't use supernatural abilities to keep you from dropping shit

Pretty much every room in the house is stocked with bandaids just in case. You guys almost always have tons of matching ones, along with bruises and random little sores that you have no memory of attaining

Again, if you're the type of person who swears when you stub your toe, the absolute horrific vulgar language that comes out of Tachihara's mouth when he stubs his toe puts you to SHAME

You're as equally concerned for his wellbeing as he is for yours. You both take good care of each other's physical health where you can

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bsd x reader #bsd fanfiction #bsd hunting dogs #hunting dogs #fukuchi ouchi #fukuchi x reader #saigiku jouno #jouno x reader #suehiro tecchou #tecchou x reader #teruko okura #teruko x reader #tachihara michizou #tachihara x reader #bsd hcs #bsd headcanons #headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd x gn reader #bsd fukuchi #bsd jouno #bsd tecchou #bsd teruko #bsd tachihara

[sterakraffulz78]

This is hilarious and fateful

I saw the episode, and I never really thought that wasting time like this would be a suffering that lasted too long. I'm going to get good and bad things from what I saw

first for good, okay?

1. The deaf imp

In itself, I was very surprised by this character and to tell the truth I can consider him better than the other deep and sad Pseudos that only serve to make the panties get wet because of the Fujoshits, and it is something that in this program is seen very little or is scarce in Yes, it made me tender that Fizz treated him well.

2. Fizz and Asmodeus' relationship

What can we say, the relationship itself is healthy, and superior to many of both series and when Asmodeus protected Fizz it is something nice on his part, not like a certain owl who is only interested in the red cock who is a tremendous fucking creep unable to defend his """"little""", this relationship is one of the few salvageable things in this series

Now with the bad things

3. The songs

For the love of God... why? All the songs seem forgettable and super stupid to me, it seems that the only thing this chapter does is create time and necessary filler that will never contribute or amount to anything

4. The imp hater by fizarolli

This was expected, it doesn't surprise me much to tell the truth... just imagine that you are so hurt by harmless criticism of your program that you only hope for a good change and to be guided to do a good deed, but you prefer to spend and overexploit the Poor workers who only want some money to encourage your resentment in a lively way, this is ridiculous and makes others feel sorry for Viviana Medrano

5. Mammon

This is the first most annoying, loudest and most obnoxious thing I've ever seen followed by Chaz, the only thing he knows how to say is pure rudeness in every damn sentence, it's a fucking audiovisual blister that seems to never end, apart from the cringe I feel about it, the Deadly sins of this show will never be taken seriously and more that sexist phrase about "Women are not funny" and then you're dead... Damn you Medrano bitch, can't you at least respect a simple woman even if she has a tertiary role in your shitty program? (And ironic why you make penis jokes and swear words to wait for someone to laugh and praise you)

6. I HOPE THEY FUCK YOU BLITZ

Is it really necessary to put Blitz in every episode? For the love of God, am I already sick of listening and seeing that red cringe guy making those embarrassing faces and hearing his voice why can't I listen to Brandon normally anymore without remember this abusive and manipulative guy swearing!? They shoehorned this guy in just to get "laughs" and make him stick to Fizz when he was given the biggest tragedy of his life

7. Good vs bad, hAha ​​tHeY aRe RiGht wHy tHEy aRe nExT To thE bOyS aNd uwu sOfT

As always, our wonderful writing writing the bad characters, like the black ones in this Turkish soap opera and making them caricatures for mockery and portraying them as the soft boys and uwu the good ones. These characters are already predictable, if there is a soft and sore young gay uwu, he will be the good one because he is the soft and sore young gay uwu and we are all forced to take his side, while those who have the potential to be good villains like Striker, you position them as silly, cartoonish and you are the generic antagonist of a series for children under 6 years old, for example Asmodeus against Mammon

It's good that the views are getting lower and lower, so soon we won't be able to stand this series in decline and the next more ridiculous, repulsive, mediocre, cringe and pathetic chapter written by a ridiculous, mediocre, cringe, pathetic, misogyny, sexist, Transphobic , racist, xenophobic writer who only ruined her own work so that her little friends the Fujoshits (I already saw you SatorRojas, TeaTheKook and Dani) get their panties wet and buy more panties again to get them wet because they can't stand two boys together

#anti stolitz #helluva critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #helluva boss fandom critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss critique #blitzo #Helluva boss

[cottondo]

BLACK LACE | chapter six

yours truly, but not truly yours

Fizzarolli x reader

i really hope y'all notice

the little dialogue change

the reader has

with robo fizz here (;

lmk if you see it !

____________________

You actually managed to smile a bit at Fizz as he chatted with you while you worked. You knew he couldn't stay around the park too long- - too many fans; though, you got the hint he didn't actually mind the publicity. It took a little bit of you two being in silence for Fizzarolli to get uncomfortable enough to start talking up a conversation with you- - probably because he felt bad.

Fizz sat on the bleachers, eyes following you as your sweeping job was finally finished. It was time to fix up the robo fizz animatronic for its next show.

This was prolly gonna be lil awkward. Especially if it starts talking—

The real Fizzarolli was sitting right here, as if it was all of your fantasies come true, and the only version of him you did get to have (sorta), was broken on a stage.

You take the robot out onto the stage with a toolbox set, and place a hand over the area of the robot to look it over. Exposed wires again at the neck. Damn thing.

"Holy shit! That piece of junk is supposed to be me?" Fizz leans comically forward on the bench, stretching and tilting his head to the side with a grimace.

You turn to look at Fizzarolli curiously, a brow raised slightly. "Yeah. What, you don't think he looks like you?" Your voice was teasing, and Fizzarolli only scrunched up his nose in distaste at the thought. "What the hell's wrong with its neck?"

You take a small step to the side as he meets you at the edge of the stage from the floor. It was subtle, but you noticed his eyes looking over the circus stage briefly before meeting with your face.

"He likes to glitch out allot." You shrug, "I swear he does it on purpose to piss me off, though." As you bend and lift a tool out from the box, you hear footsteps walking up the stage.

""You mean, like, it's actually sentient?" Fizz looked . . confused. Maybe a little curious?

Did he know know how own products?

You stand up straight again and scrunch your face up slightly in confusion. "Yeeah . . ? He pisses me off."

Fizz stares at it, rounding it once in a small stepped circle around the limp robot, putting a hand to his chin in thought. "I guess it's just freaky, looking at that thing so close up."

You found his curiosity a little entertaining. Your lips curl upward to a smile. "Then you really don't wanna see it turned on."

"Pun intended?" He tilts his head with a wavering smile. "Your jests are better than I thought."

With a smirk of your own, he watched you roll your eyes. That wasn't the intention, but you decided to just roll with it if he was laughing.

"Gross."

Your legs crouch down to the floor, and you hold yourself in a low squatting position to look over the exposed wires in the robot's neck. With a lopsided frown, there was a heavy sigh threatening to escape. This stupid project would take you at least two hours to do.

So much for getting done early today.

"Soo . . you do this almost every day?" Fizzarolli looks down to you. "The robot, I mean,"

You get comfortable on your knees, and bring the toolbox closer to your side. As you nod, you look up at him. "Mhm. Fun, right?"

No. It was anything but fun. Especially being tormented by a robot that you once had feelings for.

Fizz had his arms crossed, staring down at you with not much amusement. Safe to say, he thought the same as you. "I don't know, don't you get bored?"

There was that bitter feeling in your chest, again. How'd he know?

"I mean, yeah. Sometimes," your shoulder shrugs, and the way your voice was lighter made it all the more obvious how you really felt. "But it's not all bad. For a while, it was my only way of getting to talk to y—" your eyes widen, and you pause what you'd been doing. Staring at the limp robot in a small shock, you realize that the words just came out before you could even stop them from happening.

Shit shit shit.

Fizz flinched, but you didn't want to look over to see his reaction. It actually felt like you'd been frozen in fear.

You pick up the pliers and focus on the wires again instead. "I mean, like, you know, because nobody else here is cool. It's tiring dealing with parents and their kids all day." Quick recovery, you think to yourself.

"Riiight . ." Fizz looks away awkwardly, and you feel the disappointment in your stomach start to bubble.

You're always fucking up. Why can't you just shut the hell up for once?

"You know, this place actually brings back some memories!" Fizz turns away from you, and walks across the stage. "I was good as a circus performer too, even as a kid." His smile briefly faded, you noticed, but when he turned back to you, it was bright again.

"I'm surprised you aren't some form of jester." He looks you over once. You furrow a brow. "Was that supposed to be a compliment, or are you just making fun of me?" There's a tease in your voice again.

Fizz smirks. "You're actually . . not bad."

You look up at him, sharing the lighthearted smile for a brief moment. There's a fuzziness in you as that compliment starts to sink in.

The wire in your hand sparks, and you yank your hand away quickly with a flinch of pain. Fizz's eyes widen, looking down at the robot's neck. Clearly, you separated the wrong wires. You blame him for distracting you.

"What's happening?" Fizzarolli asks, taking a step closer to your side.

This was hardly new to you, but clearly Fizz thought something about this was dangerous.

You shake off the stinging in your hand, and tilt your head. "It happens all the time. Damn thing always short circuits."

"Y-Your finger!" He was oddly caring right now. Was this actually how Fizz was?

Your eyes glance down to the dozens of burn scars littering your hands. They'd eventually fade over time. It was just one of the many 'perks' of working at Loo Loo Land.

Your finger was bleeding, but you barely even noticed it. "It's fine." Brushing it off was just easier than dwelling on it.

You actually found it a little comical how freaked out he was by all of this. A smile managed to calm him down, seeing as though you were hardly phased by it.

"Just a faulty connection. I didn't solder it right." You give a little wink, and hold up the gun to the wire, fixing the two together. The sparks went away.

"I'll stick to stage work." He sighs out.

"Yeah, it's probably for the best." You giggle up at him.

Fizz walks off the stage, and looks you over briefly. "Look, I gotta get going. But, I'll see you at Ozzie's tonight." His hand sits on his hip, curious and waiting for your answer. "Or at least, I think I will, right?"

You nod, giving him a little smile back. "I'll be there."

•

Your hand grabs Fizz's dressing room doorknob, and twists it to open.

You figured he'd have your costume out and ready for you. But what you didn't expect, was for you to see him in mid make out sesh with . . Ozzie?

"O-Oh god, sorry—" Your eyes widen, and instantly, your heel spins to turn you out of the room.

"Oh! Hey!" Fizzarolli quickly gets off Ozzie's lap, a bright and nervous grin spreading from cheek to cheek, and Asmodeous sits up straight, eyes wide and shocked.

You thought he'd be at home still, since his leg was still broken. It actually . . kinda felt funny seeing Fizzarolli with someone other than, well, you.

"Hah! Uh, y/n! There you are!" Fizz was laughing, and sweating, reaching out a hand to stop you from leaving. You look down at his hand on you, and furrow a brow slightly. "Totally just having a non emotional make out with the boss. What, never seen that before?" His laugh was nervous as hell.

"Not- - not really, no." You frown at him. Asmodeous stands with a crutch, and smiled sheepishly over at you. "So! You're the new demon I've heard about."

Your eyes look up to him- - oh my goodness. He was so intimidating in person. And this was how you got to meet him for the first time!? By breaking up a bang session in the dressing room??

"Yes sir," you smile nervously up at him. "I'm really happy you guys changed your minds about my application."

"I'm sure you'll fit in around here soon. So far, I'm liking what I've been seeing." His smile grew as he headed for the door. His hand gave you a small pat on the shoulder, causing you to smile warmly to yourself. Fizz took a step to the side, allowing room for him to leave.

Your smile brightens up a bit at Ozzie, and suddenly, there was that warm fuzzy feeling again. It almost felt like somebody actually wanted you around. That was new.

"Bye, Fizz." Asmodeous winks, and closes the door behind him, leaving just the two of you in the dressing room now.

Fizzarolli lets out another sheepish chuckle before looking at you. "I'm sure you've seen crazier things,"

Was it wrong to feel jealous? Fizzarolli wasn't yours, and you didn't belong to him. You guessed you couldn't control who he spent his free time with, but it still hurt. Sigh.

"I swear, it's strictly fucking. No strings attached," Fizz raised a hand.

"Okay," you shrug, raising a brow. "Uh, so my costume?" You shake off the lingering feelings.

 

Fizz claps his hands together in remembrance.

"Right! Got it right here," with his back turning to face you, you take a look over his shoulder to see him pulling out the new stage fit you would be wearing. Cute, as usual.

"Soo, whaddya thiink?" He holds it up, smiling big while presenting it. You force up a smile, but it was still hard to get the idea of him being with somebody else out of your mind. "I like it," it was true, you did think it was cute, but the way it was said made him think otherwise.

"What's wrong with it?" Fizz frowns, letting his arm drop.

"Nothing, I swear." Your smile tries to prove your mind to act otherwise, but it was clear he wasn't buying it. Only thing was, you weren't upset about the dress.

Fizz narrows an eye on you, shoving the dress into your hands. "Alright, if you don't like it, deal with it anyway. It's either this, or leave."

The dress shines against any light, and the sequins are scratchy. "Fizz, I swear, I love it." You roll your eyes at him.

It was useless trying to talk about the real emotion in the room, so you decide to turn away from him and bring the dress with you to the other side of the room. Quickly removing your clothes, you slip on the new dress. It fit snuggly, and you honestly couldn't move too well in it, but it was fine.

"Don't forget you need to get the crowd to rate you a ten tonight." Fizz reminded you of the deal you two made. "Already talked it over with Asmodeous. He said it's a fair deal!"

You better be on your good shit tonight then, though those thoughts are making it really hard to concentrate on anything right now.

"I didn't forget." You walk over to him, standing beside him at the mirror. There's a variety of makeup sitting out on the vanity, so you help yourself to get show ready.

"Y'know, I kinda hope you make it." Fizz bumps your arm as you apply some powder under your eyes. Your eyes blinked as you glance at him in the mirror. "Really?"

Fizz busied himself with collecting the makeup on the counter. "It'd be fun to do some jester comedy again with someone who's circus familiar."

You smile softly over at him, and suddenly, those feelings you've had for him are starting to feel way too real. Are you being a little delusional? Or did it actually seem like he was being nice to you for a reason?

"Better make sure I win then." You bump his arm back.

#helluva fizzarolli #Fizzarolli #fizzarolli x reader #helluva boss

[chaifootsteps]

Random AU bits that try to make more idk a cohesive HB/HH universe with an OC:

Narrative and visual parallels? Like, idk if it's just my inability to resist making more OCs but, what if Loona had had a twin brother? Make Loona and twin OC hit more of Blitzo's trauma-baggage buttons. Make them kinda mirror the other twins, Barbie and Blitzo, but still different.

Then their adoption ends up being more than just giving some random kid(teens?) a better shot at life when he was initially probably shopping for a Hellhound worker for his assassin biz or whatever and caught not only Parental Feelings but also I CAN FIX THE PAST BY FIXING THESE KIDS' FUTURE feelings or whatever, unless he was actually looking to fix his problems with parenthood in a retcon, idk what do you think is more interesting? Anyways, then for Blitzo it's now also somewhat about Rewriting the story, he and Barbie are on the outs, but these twins won't be! Not only will Blitzo be the father he never had, but they won't end up hating each other! THEY CAN'T! NUH-UH! They won't ruin each other's lives! Everything's fine! (Listen, Blitzo projects hard, and I would like to see it more lol.)

Okay I will admit that Loona's twinbro OC is more vibes and narrative parallel than character substance right now, but I would really like to bring back OG!Loona's party animal/party crasher trait from her concept art (like, okay maybe the Keshabee party was the first party she was Actually Invited to, so that could've been an interesting reason why she was so nervous about making a bad impression, also idk I could see her and twinbro OC using party crashing as a way to steal food [if there's any] or whatever when they were younger, depending on their living situation at the time). Honestly what makes designing OC tough is how little traits from Barbie we actually get to see in canon, because that makes it a lot harder to make a similar parallel for twinbro OC, where Loona would mirror Blitzo, twinbro OC would funhouse mirror Barbie. But otoh I kinda want Loona and twinbro to get along at least, maybe in a codependent way? (Barbie and Blitzo probs got along too before Blitzo caused a magical fire that their mother died in, nearly killed & crippled Fizz for life, among who knows how many other things else. Also, I prefer a universe where Blitzo tried to do a hellfire circus trick and fucked it up, no stupid b-day candles, thanks). Anyways, Loona and twinbro OC, they somehow survived the Hellhound Adoption System together and ostensibly got adopted together (at least in the end, by Blitzo, maybe there could be some separation anxiety? Idk, like I'd imagine that they got separated sometimes before being returned), idk so there's loyalty or care there, despite both being fucked up from it probably (isn't everybody). AU of an AU: Alternatively have Loona and twinbro OC mirror Blitzo and Barbie harder, they weren't adopted together, twinbro OC was adopted first (again?), but disappeared instead of being returned. Loona either does or doesn't believe that he left her behind (idk maybe they acted out when they were adopted separately in order to try again in hopes of being adopted together? Or finding each other?) but either comes across information that informs her he was officially returned into the System but mysteriously disappeared and begins (or continues, depending on what Loona believed) her search for him, somewhat mirroring Blitzo's eventual search for Barbie, but the parallel ending where twinbro OC actually does (probably) want to be found.

Idk AU thoughts go brrrr, got an AU for something more mystery/whatever, got another AU for a more canon-but-a-little-to-the-left/more-cast, depending on the flavor I or whoever likes more. Also I know twin OCs to canon chars are a little cringe, but I enjoy it.

Good bits for sure!

#Anonymous #helluva boss mention #actual blog post

[artofapeach]

Can you explain to me what happen in the new helluva boss episode? I don’t like musical so I don’t want to watch it

Gen question, if you don't like musicals, how are you watching Helluva and Hazbin??

It's just four songs in the episode. I think that is the most so far, but it's only one more song than Loo Loo Land, so I think you're p good to watch it!

If you're still not interested though, I'll give a quick vv biased outline below the read more

Flashback! Fizz and Blitz are teens and at a Mammon concert

Mammon is obviously a greedy jerk and most of the crowd, even Blitz, sees it

Fizz doesn't though and sees Mammon as an icon

He wants to compete in the yearly clown pageant

Blitz makes Fizz laugh (this is important, shut up, it is)

Creepy fan shows up!

Fizz tries to be polite, but creepy fan is shovy and trying to force Fizz into a duo and not so subtle romantic relationship

Blitz tells him to shove off

Creepy fan gets upset about this and decides Fizz sucks actually (damn that sounds familiar wonder if its written from experience)

Fizz worries that he does suck and decides to work hard to be perfect

Presentback!

A scar of Fizz's is showing and he can't find his foundation!

Ozzie gives it to him but not before telling him that Fizz entering the yearly clown pageant is not needed and silly (and also Mammon sucks)

Fizz isn't listening and keeps saying he needs this

Ozzie calls Blitz for backup. I repeat, OZZIE CALLS BLITZ FOR BACKUP

Blitz goes with them to the clown pageant under the pretense that he's Fizz's bodyguard, but he's really there to help make Fizz realize how stupid the whole thing is

Mammon shows up and is mistreating Fizz, fat shaming him, treating him like an object, and is an all around ass (whom I love)

Then hot bitches show up, the Glam sisters, they're so hot, if you like women please watch just for them

Competition starts and Fizz and the Glam sisters are tied

There's a meet and greet with the finalists, but Fizz ain't feeling it and requests to skip

Mammon refuses, puts him down, makes Fizz feel like the bad guy for not putting Mammon first

Fizz ends up going through the meet and greet

ITS REVEALED??? THAT FIZZ KNOWS SIGN LANGUAGE?????

He talks with a Deaf kid and they sign and it's cute and Fizz has a name sign, it's making an F with a clown nose and and and

Shit creepy fan is back

he's dedicated his whole life to hating Fizz (DAMN THAT SOUNDS FAMILIAR)

He yells that Fizz sucks, sending Fizz into a panic attack

Blitz knocks the guy's head in, then comforts Fizz (they're in love)

Mammon comes back and pushes Blitz outta the way (>:T) and seems to be worried about Fizz and

whoops nope he's silently threatening Fizz to keep it together what an ass (I love him)

Mammon lets the Glam sisters go on first. He SAYS so that Fizz can get it together, but I think it was to put Fizz down even more :/

Glam sisters KILL IT, please watch the episode, I'm not kidding, you're missing out

Fizz also thinks they're killing it and is having a panic attack :)

Ozzie comes in to comfort him but Fizz isn't having it

Fizz reveals that the reason this is so important to him is because he feels like Mammon is who made him important and big and good enough to be the One and Only Fizzarolli and Ozzie's lover

Ozzie says that's not true. Fizz is like that already. Mammon is exploiting that.

They confess their love 🥺

THEY SING A LOVE SONG 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

godDAMMIT creepy fan is back—

Oh no, Blitz just shot him, good on you Blitz!

"Oh, so you guys ARE an item! *really bitter eyetwitch*" people interpret this many different ways, but I am a Blitzfizz shipper and am choosing to interpret this as Blitz going "dammit there goes my chance with Fizz" :)

Fizz goes on stage and ALSO kills it (please please watch it)

He curses Mammon out the entire song, but Mammon doesn't realize it until the end when Fizz literally goes "Fuck you Mammon!"

Fizz quits!!

Mammon gets mad!!

Fizz doesn't care!!!!!

Ozzie comes to protect Fizz and Mammon threatens to reveal their romance!!

Ozzie doesn't care and reveals it right then and there!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Oz fux fizz?? LOVINGLY???"

Mammon says Ozzie will regret that and leaves

Glam sisters realize that this means they technically win! (then maybe die? I personally don't think they're dead, they were just crushed by a beam, I think they're fine)

They all go home in the limo, Ozzie and Fizz canoodling

Blitz asks who tops

Ozzie gives Fizz a smirk

the end :)

You're sincerely missing out. This was an AMAZING episode and I skipped on a lot of details. PLEASE watch it!!!!

#hb spoilers #hey an ask #not art

[clownstolemyjokesarchived]

💚 fizz & robo!

                                           And I plead, forgive me I've failed you.

Send 💚 for a reason NOT to date my muse.

If you’re looking for a romantic partner, best to look elsewhere because that ship has sailed a long time ago and he doesn’t entertain such notions anymore. One too many bad things after another has left him jaded and unfeeling in those regards. He’s finally “comfortable” where he’s at and won’t trade it for anyone let alone stupid dumb feelings such as a love. That isn’t to say he won’t seek others out and some sort of relationship can be formed, but any personal attachment just isn’t there.

Mammon. That’s should just give it away there but to explain further, considering he works for Mammon and is his property, having a relationship with him can be tricky especially if Mammon catches wind and he ends up not liking who Robo Fizz is spending time with. He sees any signs of you taking too much time from him, putting a damper on his profits- You’re out. Robo Fizz doesn’t have a say in the matter. He does what Mammon says.

#fizzarolli #﹙ Asᴋs ﹚ TRUMPET﹗ #﹙ Asᴋs﹕ Rᴏʙᴏ Fɪᴢᴢ ﹚ OᴏOᴏOᴏᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ·s sᴀʟᴛʏ #﹙ Hᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ﹚ Hᴇʏ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ғᴀᴄᴇ #﹙ Hᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ﹕ Rᴏʙᴏ Fɪᴢᴢ ﹚ Cᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜʟʟᴇᴛs ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ

[someonestolemyshoes]

Summer Wine

This is my gift fic for the Levihan University servers Christmas in July event! My giftee was the wonderful _myunet on twitter and instagram - I went with the summer holidays theme, and we all know I’m a sucker for childhood friends, so... I hope you enjoy :) 

**

“This is a stupid idea.”

Levi trailed helplessly behind Hange as she shimmied along the crack of an alley between two barns, a narrow shortcut from the main yard to the back field that kept them out of view of the main house. She held a bottle of wine in one hand, cool from the fridge, condensation beading as the chill glass met the stuffy summer heat. It was getting late, the ghost of a moon and a smattering of stars decorating a purple sky overhead, while the horizon bled deep pink where the sun dipped below the skyline.

The set of the sun did little to temper the heat. The air was muggy and stagnant, heavy on his skin as Levi broke out at the end of the alleyway and trotted to catch up with Hange's longer strides. She twisted quickly to look at him, walking backwards past the lamb shed to shoot him a wicked smile, wiggling the bottle.

"It'll be fun!" She said brightly. "And it's not stupid if it's fun."

She turned before he had time to argue, dancing on her toes to keep her footing as they crossed onto the field. The grass had been clipped short and left to dry in the sun, and in the still, quiet night the crunch of it underfoot was deafening. Hange hummed absently as she picked her way over to the haystack, swinging the bottle at her side.

They were out of sight of the house, here, but Levi still felt a little uneasy. Hange's parents weren't strict, but this might just push the boundaries of their tolerance—clambering around the farm yard in the growing dark was bad enough, nevermind doing it with a belly full of wine they were both too young and too dumb to drink. But the day had been unbearably hot, and the wine was cool, and Hange's summer holiday had been filled with too much work, early mornings and busy days and not enough time to relax and enjoy a few weeks of academic freedom, and she'd watched one too many movies with underage drinking and maybe she'd felt envious, maybe she'd felt inspired. She'd texted Levi asking if he wanted to do something fun, and Levi had agreed without asking too many questions, and now here they are.

Hange was toeing her shoes off at the base of the silage stack. 'So we don't put holes in the plastic,' she'd told him, years and years ago, when they were almost too small to clamber up even one bale. She hoisted herself up with ease now, and Levi did the same, following her path up each layer of round, wrapped bales. The plastic stuck to the soles of Hange's bare feet ahead of him, tacking and squeaking as she climbed. The sun had shifted from the field hours ago, but the black wrapping was still warm beneath his palms, and the hay smell was overpowering, woody and still fresh. It will change, as the year goes on and the cut grass ferments into something sweeter, richer, more earthy, but the bales were freshly gathered, the summer still young.

Hange plopped down right in the middle of the top of the pile, sinking into the cleft between two bales. She wriggled to adjust until she was comfortable, dipped in a shallow V with her back against one bale and her legs against the other. She patted the space beside her, grinning, and Levi settled into it.

The air shifted some, this high up. The breeze was light and bare, but it felt refreshing after the oppressive stillness they'd endured all day. Hange unscrewed the lid from the bottle and took a tentative sniff. She winced.

"Smells awful," she said. And then she took a sip.

Hange's face screwed up the moment the drink hit her tongue, eyes squeezing shut and lips pursing as she struggled to swallow it. She shook her head, shuddering, and held out the bottle. "Your turn."

Levi eyed it warily. Hange nudged it against his chest. "C'mon, it's not so bad."

Levi raised a brow at her. "You look like you drank piss."

"It's fine," she said, and to prove her point she took another, bigger sip. She stifled her reaction, but Levi could see the way her throat bobbed reflexively, swallowing air, and the way her eyes watered behind her glasses. Levi rolled his eyes at her.

"Convincing," he said. Hange nudged him with the bottle again, and again, and again, until he grabbed it, if only to stop her incessant poking.

"I think this counts as peer pressure," Levi said, taking the bottle from her grip. Hange grinned widely.

"Absolutely. Drink."

Levi didn't dare smell it. He eyed the pale liquid warily for a moment, then sucked in a breath and pulled the bottle to his lips, tipping it back.

Hange was right. It wasn't bad. It was fucking disgusting. The drink was cold and flat, but it fizzed strangely on his tongue and burned as it slid down his throat, settling hot and uneasy in his gut. The taste lingered unpleasantly, tart and acidic. His expression soured uncontrollably, and beside him, Hange let out a raucous laugh.

"Tastes like drinking piss," Levi said.

"It's vile," Hange agreed. Still, she took the bottle from him, and drank another mouthful down. "God, how does mum like this?"

Levi shrugged his shoulders. The strangest thing was, now that the burn had settled, his stomach felt pleasantly warm. The bitter taste had abated into something mild, sweeter and a little fruity on his tongue. He took the bottle from Hange and drank again.

Hange settled back against the bale and rubbed her hands over her face, pushing her glasses out of the way to grind her knuckles into her eyes. She looked worn, tired. Her cheeks and nose were pink and raw from exposure to the sun, and her exhaustion had bruised her eyes, leaving the skin puffy and purple.

She sighed heavily. "This summer sucks."

Levi lowered the bottle, but said nothing. He had grown used to spending almost every waking second of the summer holidays with Hange—when they were small, too small to play without supervision, Hange had passed the summer days with Levi and his mother while her family worked the farm, and then when they were older, free to exore, they'd filled their time with play on the farm, Levi dutifully trailing Hange wherever she went.

Hange had always been a lively, extroverted kid, a stark contrast to Levi's quiet, insular nature, and at times he had found her boundless energy overwhelming. Too touchy, too loud. Too much. But Hange never minded that he rarely spoke, that he shied away from people, quiet and brooding to mask his discomfort, and with time, Levi had grown used to her. They fell into an easy routine with each new summer, finding new ways to fill their time—but this year was the first since Hange's brother had moved away, and they were one hand short on the farm. Hange had helped in the past, odd jobs here and there throughout the year, but this summer was intensive, task after task from dawn until dusk, with barely a moment to breathe. Levi had hardly seen her for the last three weeks, and likely wouldn't see much of her at all until school started up again. It was weird, too quiet and too still without her.

She let out a frustrated sound and plucked the bottle from his hand, gulping from it, this time. She looked ridiculous, puckering her lips when she lowered the bottle. "I want a day off. We haven't had time to do anything."

"We're doing something now," Levi said. Hange laughed, low in her throat, and raised the bottle as though to taste his word, before she drank again. With the moon high and full, Levi could see the colour in her face, flushed pink from the alcohol, and her eyes were growing glasses behind her lenses. He wondered if she was feeling the drink as much as he was—his head was light, a little woozy, but his limbs felt weighty and graceless, fingers fumbling to take the bottle back from Hange, wrapping clumsily over her hand as he did, and has her skin always been this soft? Her hand felt impossibly smooth beneath his fingertips, and when she laughed again, her voice rang brighter than usual, chiming in his ears. The effect was strangely dizzying.

"We are," she said, after a time. "We are doing something now. It's nice. I've missed it—I've missed you."

Levi hummed in acknowledgement. Things like this, they didn't come easy to him; words of affection fell from Hange's lips so often, without pause or debate, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, while Levi stuttered and stumbled in his own head for too long before inevitably saying nothing. He had missed Hange, had felt a little lost without her, bored and restless at home. Saying as much was hard. Levi held out the bottle for her instead, and watched as she tipped her head back to drink it.  

The alcohol made him feel weightless and floaty, absent, strange—so strange, but it wasn't a bad feeling. He watched the way Hange's lips pressed plump against the mouth of the bottle, the way strands of her hair had fallen from her messy ponytail, and curled loosely against her neck. An unfamiliar heat spread in his chest, his belly, his cheeks. He looked quickly away.

The bottle was a little over half empty when Hange set it to one side, reclining back against the curve of the bale and settling her hands on her stomach, staring up at the starry sky. They had so much space, up here, plenty of room to spread out, but Hange had moved until they were so close they were touching, pressed together at shoulder and hip and knee. Levi wasn't one for so much physical contact, but the wine made him warm and pleasantly heavy, and there was something nice about the way Hange felt against his side—comfortable, almost, but that isn't quite right, because comfortable would imply he was relaxed, and Levi didn't feel relaxed at all.

Touching Hange wasn't new to him. She was the most tactile person he knew, only content with her arm linked through his, her feet in his lap, her weight leaning on his side, some point of connection between them. She had been the same for as long as Levi could recall, and he had grown used to it. Sometimes, he even liked it.

But it never made him feel quite like he did now; restless, itching to press impossibly closer, to feel impossibly more.

"We could've done so much more though," Hange said. "We could've gone to the cinema—"

"—I already told you, I'm not watching the Shrek anniversary screening with you."

Hange dutifully ignore him. "Or the beach! We could've gone swimming in the sea, maybe, and—ooh, we could have had a 99, I haven't had one in ages."

"You'd shit your pants, stupid. You're lactose intolerant."

Again, Hange waved him off flippantly. "Ice cream is worth it. And maybe we could've camped some—remember when we used to camp in the front field?"

Levi hummed. "Never got any sleep. Too much sugar. Too many bugs."

Hange chuckled at his side.

"It was fun. Although, I think we might be a little too big for the tent now. It'd be a squeeze."

Levi thought about how close they were now, plastered to each other's sides as they stared up at the stars. It might not be so bad, cosy in the canvas of Hange's battered old tent, with a blanket to share and the leftover wine instead of fizzy drinks.

He had intended on keeping that thought quiet, store it somewhere private, but the wine loosed his tongue, and before he could think to stop himself, he said, "it would be nice."

Hange let out a long, rising hum beside him. "Yeah? Maybe I'll look for the tent tomorrow. We could tell scary stories like we used to, and you can pretend you're not frightened by the cows walking around in the next field."

Levi scowled up at the sky. "Just like old times," he said flatly. Hange snickered, digging her elbow into his ribs.

"So cute," she teased. "The only time you've ever been cuddly in your whole life, I bet."

"I was cold."

"It was like, twenty degrees."

Levi dug his elbow back at her. "Fuck off."

Hange squirmed at his side, wriggling away from his prodding. She laughed, breathless, and settled only when Levi stopped poking at her, sighing out a long breath.

"Remember when we tried stargazing?"

"Mm. You just made up your own shitty constellations."

"You believed me."

"I was nine, and stupid."

"Now you're sixteen and—" she cut herself off with a high squeal when Levi jabbed her side again, this time with his fingers, digging deep into the soft tissue beneath her ribs. He relented only when Hange begged him to, panting and strained, laughing loud and full.

Levi lay back to look up at the stars again. He could remember, vividly, the way Hange had pointed up at the distant sky, one long finger tracing nonexistent patterns in the stars. She'd had a lisp, then, still adjusting to her braces, words thick and clumsy when she said, 'See those stars there? There's a tail, and ears, and a big head with huuuuge teeth. That's Catticus Rex.'

Levi hadn't seen it. He had squinted with all his might, but the stars were just stars, random, disjointed. No Catticus Rex in sight. Still, he had said, 'yeah. Cool. What else?' And Hange had showed him Ursula ('like The Little Mermaid?' 'No, like a bear'), and The Big Duck, and one she called Jeffrey, and Levi had discerned nothing, but stupidly pretended all the same.

She was doing just the same now, though her arm was much longer, less weedy, muscle rippling under skin as she extended into his field of vision, drawing a shape in the air. Her voice was deeper than it was back then, and smoother. It sunk right into his chest as she spoke.

"That one is…..Hercules. See it?"

He didn't see it. He saw nothing more than flecks in the sky, swimming strangely in his addled vision.

"No."

Hange sighed, and dropped her arm. "Yeah. Me neither. Everything's moving too much."

Levi snorted. Hange talked on, naming constellations they should be able to see, but it's all purple sky and bright specks that blurred in and out of focus as he blinked, lids terribly heavy, and the way they shimmered made him feel a little nauseous. He rolled his head to the side to look at Hange instead, and—oh, she was close. So close, he could see the stars reflected in the dark of her eyes, and the way the wine had flushed her skin pink, the smattering of freckles over her nose. The breeze blew gently, and up this close Levi could see the way each individual hair on her head lifted and ruffled with it. He could see the length of her lashes and the shadows they cast on her cheeks when she blinked, long and slow; he could see the slope of her nose, her lips, caught in a stupid, absent smile as she stared up at the night sky. When did Hange get so pretty? It must have been a gradual development, but the last Levi could recall, she was a gangly pre-teen with stick limbs and a thin, rakish frame. She was still tall and still thin, but there were subtle curves at her hips that balanced out her broad shoulders, and the puppy fat on her face had disappeared, exposing the sharp line of her jaw and high, prominent cheekbones.

The heat in his chest can't be from the alcohol. They set the wine aside a while ago, so neither could he blame it for the restless energy bubbling under his skin, or the way his fingers twitched at his side, the urge to reach out and trace Hange's profile so sudden and his reflexes so sluggish and addled that his hand was already halfway in the air between them before he could think to stop it.

Hange's head lolled sideways to look at him. At some point, Levi must have shifted the impossible distance between them, for when Hange turned, their noses bumped together. Hange's fringe tickled his brow. He tasted the wine on her breath when she sighed out. His must taste the same, blowing hot over her lips, and her lips—

Levi never thought too much about kissing. He'd never had all that much interest, even now, as a teenager, when almost everyone around him seemed so charged, so eager to try all these new things they'd learned and discovered. Kissing sounded unpleasant, wet and messy and weird, and Levi had never once thought about kissing another person as much as he thought about kissing Hange now.

It must be the wine. That's what Levi told himself. The wine making his head a little fuzzy, his thoughts sluggish, bizarre, unfiltered. Hange was his friend, his best friend, and surely most people don't think about kissing their best friend. But his head was empty save for the way Hange's mouth looked, the way her breath felt on his skin.

Hange kissed him first. At least he thought she did—one moment they weren't kissing, and the next they were, and Levi hadn't meant to move but maybe he had anyway, maybe he had closed what little space was left and brushed his lips against hers, so soft, so light, he wondered if maybe he imagined it. He closed his eyes, head spinning, and Hange pressed her forehead clumsily against his own, resting there.

The world around them spun strangely in the darkness, time a fuzzy, frame thing, warping around them as Hange bumped her mouth to Levi's again and again, each time better and longer and more solid than the last.

And then the sky was a pale, watery blue, sunlight peeking over the distant horizon, as birds chirped loudly, screeching the new day. Levi swallowed, but his mouth was disgustingly dry, tongue like cotton behind his teeth. He blinked against the mild pounding in his head and shifted to ease the ache in his back, but something heavy laid over his chest and legs, pinning him.

Hange.

She lay at his side, contorted into the cleft of the bales, with one leg thrown over Levi's thigh and her arm sprawled across his abdomen. She snored softly in his ear.

Memories of the night rushed him; the picture of Hange under the moonlight, the blush of her face and the lilt of her laughter. The soft press of her lips against his. His face burned at the thought and he looked quickly away from her.

Trying not to disturb her, Levi shuffled, reaching to pull his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. 4:59am. He groaned, back seizing from the uncomfortable sleeping position, and Hange’s breath hitched and stuttered as she woke. She groaned, too, and turned to press her face into the bale, away from the glaring daylight.

“Time is it?” she asked, voice hoarse. Levi told her, and she let out a lamenting moan, rolling onto her back and wincing, unfurling her body and stretching her spine. She looked ridiculous, wrinkles on her cheek from the plastic wrapping and red welts on the bridge of her nose where her glasses had dug into the skin. “Shit. Mum might kill me.”

“Probably. You stole her wine and passed out in a field.”

“Can we count this as camping?” Hange said, laughing a little as she scrubbed at her face. Levi shrugged. He sat up, peeling himself away from the plastic and straightening out his wrinkled clothes.

They were quiet as they climbed down from the haystack. Hange hid the half empty bottle in the long grass by the wall, and led the way quietly towards the alleyway. Hange's quiet made him feel a little uneasy. He hadn’t drunk enough to forget what happened, and he doubted Hange had either, and he had hoped—expected, really—that Hange would be the one to bring it up, needle some kind of discussion out of him. He had relied on it. He couldn't mention it, not with his clumsy, crass tongue; he'd mess it up, say something biting, insulting, something that implied he hated it and that—well, that wasn't true at all.

They were almost at the end of the narrow alley when Hange stopped walking. She turned to him with a tired smile, shoulder-leaning the barn and folding her arms loosely over her chest. Levi shuffled his toe into the dry, crusted dirt. It was hard to look at her.

"I had fun," Hange said, after a short pause. Levi nodded. The air between them felt full, oddly charged, and Levi realised with a start that perhaps, for once, Hange was just as lost for words as he was. He cleared his throat.

"It wasn't bad," he said. Hange rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"I suppose that's the best I'm gonna get, right?"

Levi swallowed. Hange scrutinised him for a time, eyes a little pinched as they scanned over his face. She made him feel terribly exposed, in times like this, when her gaze turned so analytical, picking apart every twitch of his brow or tick of his jaw. He stood, pinned, while she watched him, and then she nodded once, decisive, as though she had come to some conclusion.

She pushed her shoulder off the wall. Levi watched her step closer, her arms dropping to swing at her sides. Her eyes glinted behind her glasses and her face was set, determined, as she stopped with half a foot of space between them.

And then she bent forward, neck craning down to meet him. And she kissed him.

Levi stood frozen. Hange's lips felt dry and chapped, this time, and cooler with the fresh morning air, and there was a stiffness to her, an uncertainty that made her oddly unyielding. It was different to the kisses they'd shared last night; more reserved. Unsure.

She must have noticed Levi's matching posture, spine snapped straight and body held taut in surprise, for she pulled away quickly, straightening up and tilting her head a little to look at him.

"Sorry," she said. "Was that not okay?"

Maybe it shouldn't have been. The night before had been dreamlike, floaty and soft, timeless. He had melted so easily into kissing Hange then, all soft lips and warm breath and the tang of wine on his tongue. A stark contrast to this kiss.

Both made him stomach warm in the strangest way. Both made his heart rattle in his chest.

Both were good.

"It...wasn't bad," he said again. "Nice," he clarified when Hange's questioning gaze searched him once more. Her face broke into a smile, and Levi's cheeks heated.

"Yeah?"

Levi nodded. "Yeah. Your breath smells like arse though."

Hange threw her head back in a laugh that rang down the alleyway. Her eyes were bright when she looked back at him, narrowed by the swell of her cheeks as she smiled, and she leaned forward again. Levi was ready, this time, but Hange didn't kiss him—she opened her mouth wide, and blew hot air right over his nose.

Levi recoiled, and scowled over at her. Hange looked delighted with herself, cackling wickedly and skirting out of his reach when Levi made a grab for her, but the alley was narrow, and Levi was quicker, snagging the front of her shirt in his fist and yanking her back towards him and—

He had intended revenge. Pinching her, poking her, blowing right back because his own breath must smell just as bad, but it was all too easy, with the momentum, to haul her close and kiss her again.

It was incredible, how kissing Hange made him just as dizzy as the wine did.

She withdrew after a few lingering pecks, eyes bright and cheeks pleasantly flushed. "I really have to go."

Levi hummed. Hange seemed hesitant to leave, rocking from heel to toe and chewing on her lip, but then a noise sounded from the main house, the creak of hinges and the thud of a door closing, and she cursed quietly, grimacing.

"Wish me luck," she mumbled under her breath, and then, with one last quick wave, she took off towards the house. Levi watched until she rounded the corner before he skirted the front of the barn and ducked out of the yard, following the road for home.

He rubbed his fingers absently over his lips as he walked, and his cheeks pulled into a small, private smile.

The holidays so far had been boring, without Hange. Lonely. But, he thought, with the memory of Hange's kisses fresh in his mind, this summer didn't suck too badly after all.

#LevihanXmasinJuly #levihan #snk #my writing #I have never felt more stress in my life than I did this weekend trying to get this finished GHJKJHG #don't procrastinate kids!!

[staarshines]

Alderaanian Tragedy || P.D.

Warnings: Mentions of ecstasy (in the song), mention of getting drunk

Word Count: 1.8k

The story as to how you ended up in the middle of a cantina on Ajan Kloss, dancing with the love of your life, foreheads pressed together while laughing, still high from the first two kisses just a mere few hours after the war of your generation ended.

[A/N]: i said i would write it 😌 NO THIS IS NOT ANGST I PROMISE!! it’s based off of the song “greek tragedy” which’s remix went viral on tiktok lately—if you’re gonna listen to it while reading the story, please do not listen to the remix because that’s the complete opposite of the original 😭 And yes if like five of the words seem changed I did change a few lyrics to fit the universe better!!

Poe.

That was the only person you wanted to find when you landed—everyone else could wait. Rey, Finn, L’ulo, Rose—they all could wait.

The love of your life couldn’t.

Maybe it was the absolute high you were still riding from watching all those allies drop out of hyperspace. Maybe it was relief about the war you’d been fighting for for nearly half a decade finally being over. Maybe it was fear of how many blasts had barely missed your X-Wing that last battle. Or maybe, just maybe, it was just exhaustion of keeping the secret for so long. But you needed to tell him.

After all, you had no excuses now.

We’re fighting in a war.

We can’t risk being distracted.

What if something happens to one of us?

It’s not a good time.

If he doesn’t feel the same, we won’t be able to work together anymore.

No. None of that. All those “excuses” went down with the dreadnoughts on Exegol.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to even be actively looking for him, just wandering through the crowd of ecstatic rebels because you know the moment you see his eyes, you’ll be racing toward him.

And you’re damn right.

You run into his arms so hard that you knock the breath out from your own lungs—forget about his. You know he’s saying something, you just can’t hear it over the rebels’ cheers and your own sobs. It’s practically impossible to get out of his grip, but once you do, you press your forehead so hard against his that it hurts, laughing through your tears, his face cupped in your hands and vice versa—you swear to the Maker you would’ve kissed him right then and there had Rey and Finn not nearly tackled you both to the ground with a hug.

Nobody says a thing for who knows how long—the silence in between the four of you is more than enough. Once the four of you pull apart, it takes mere seconds for you all to break out in laughter after seeing the fatigue on everyone’s faces. Nevertheless, the flyboy has something else on his mind.

“We’re definitely getting drunk tonight, right?”

“I thought we were dressing cute—” you blurt out, looking at your black skater dress and Finn’s collared shirt before seeing Poe in his signature tank top-half flightsuit and Rey in one of her regular sleeveless tunics and a jacket.

“I thought we were dressing homeless…”

“I was just too tired to change out of my flightsuit.” Finn snickers and you just roll your eyes, fighting back a smile (and failing, obviously). “It doesn’t matter, really. I look hot either way.” He sends a wink your way which you hope looks like you blatantly disregarded it—because your mind certainly didn’t.

“Don’t get too cocky, Dameron.”

Making your way down to the cantina, you can’t help but let your mind wander a little because of how flirtatious Poe is being. Sure, he was always flirty little shit, but something about this was… different.

Probably just the weight of the war off his shoulders, you tell yourself.

But that couldn't be the only thing. There had to be something else.

This. This is what you hated about being a rebel—were you still a rebel if the war was over? That’s beside the point—the hope. The hope is what you hated. Rebellions were built on hope. As long as there was hope, a rebel would keep fighting. No matter how improbable or impossible, even, the situation was, a rebel wouldn’t give up on it. It’s the only reason the Rebellion won the war, really.

And you’ve told yourself more times than you can count that work’s ideology should stay in work’s life. A motto that outrageous doesn’t just transfer over to a, well, to any love life. You’ve talked yourself down in your quarters, the hangar, your X-Wing, a fucking dreadnought, and even this cantina where you’re sitting right now.

Your heart just wouldn’t listen.

“This song—hell yes!” Poe’s excited yells pull you out of your thoughts, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that Alderaanian Tragedy is playing. “C’mon flygirl, get up! Let’s dance!”

“Flygirl?” you don’t hesitate to question the nickname—not that you were complaining, no. The opposite, really. “Since when has that been my thing?”

“Since I said so.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm. I practically own the brand. I say what goes.” You nod teasingly but don’t budge, earning a groan from him. “Fine. You made me do this, then.” He grabs your hand and pulls you out of the booth with a surprised yelp from you. You reach a hand out to Finn and Rey but Finn just waves you off and Rey blows you a kiss, winking. Sighing, you decide to accept your fate, catching up to Poe so he doesn’t have to drag you through the crowd anymore.

“We’re smashing mics in karaoke bars…”

“Are you really going to pull us into the middle?” you yell over the pumping music, barely even being able to hear yourself.

“Is this your first time meeting me?”

“You’re running late with half your makeup on…”

Poe comes to a stop and grabs your other hand, beginning to sway to the music. You’re still a bit reluctant, which earns you a pout from him. Maker, not the damn pout.

“This method acting might pay our bills…”

You smile just the tiniest bit at remembering how much you loved this song—Poe’s grin when he sees that you’re having fun makes you start giggling almost uncontrollably.

“But soon enough, there’ll be a different role to fill…”

You sing along, finally starting to let yourself loosen up and have some fun, which makes Poe happier than he’s been in a long time.

“I love this feeling, but I hate this part…”

Poe sings along with you, giving you a little “Yeah!” of encouragement at the end.

“I wanted this to work so much, I drew our plans in the stars…”

You swear you see him point to you both before pointing up at the ceiling like you could see the stars—damn this dim lighting. Did you just imagine it, or did Poe really make that verse about the two of you—?

“Speeders are flipping, I’m in hot pursuit…”

He grabs your waist and twirls you into his chest—you swear your heart stops right then and there.

“My character’s strong, but my head is loose.”

He rolls his head back and sticks his tongue out at you—as stupid as it may be, you laugh. The bass of the beats start shaking the floor, and you both look at each other like you know what to do next.

“She hits like ecstasy…”

You’re jumping like crazy with your hands on Poe’s shoulders, laughing gleefully and letting your hair whip around without a care in the galaxy.

“Comes up and bangs the sense out of me…”

He’s singing along now, and as loud of the music may be, you can hear him—you’re closer and honestly? He’s louder. Like the song means something to him.

No, he’s just enjoying the night. Stop being a romantic for once.

“The tarot cards say it’s not that bad, the blades rotate there’s just no landing pad…”

Dramatically falling back with full faith that Poe will catch you—which he does—you try to stop yourself from thinking about how deep you are in your love for him. Dancing like this, it’s not… It’s not how best friends dance. There shouldn’t be this much tension, and there sure as hell shouldn’t be this much meaning.

“And better have said it, but darling you’re the best…”

You mouth the last four words—as does he—and pointedly tap his nose, as if to solidify that you were talking about him.

“I’m just tired of falling up the Penrose steps…”

He slows down a little bit and you gladly oblige, a little bit out of breath yourself as well.

“I hate this feeling, but I love this part…”

You let your arms drape over his shoulders, feeling like he was trying to tell you something. You look into his eyes but you can’t read them because of the lack of light—you swear you see a shimmer or a sparkle somewhere in there, though…

“She really wants to make it work, and I clearly want to let it start…”

One of his hands travels up your back while the other tucks a loose strand of your hair back in place—the simple motion setting off that Maker-damned fizzing feeling in your stomach again.

“We’ll build a podracer as soon as I get home…”

Your hands switch positions from over his shoulders to holding his face—were you two getting closer? You honestly couldn’t handle the suspense.

Fuck it.

“Oh and she hits like ecstasy…”

Your veins throb and you swear your heart explodes as your lips crash into his, which he gladly welcomes. He’s everywhere, up your back, your neck, your hair, and suddenly, he’s kissing you harder, deeper, with some sort of urge that you’ve never known before. It’s dizzying, because you feel the same thing—you’ve never wanted anyone like this before. Ever. In this moment, all you wanted was Poe. You want him closer, closer, closer, even though he can’t get any closer. Maybe time stopped when your lips met his.

“Comes up and bangs the sense out of me…”

You don’t want to break the kiss—in fact, you want to let it go on forever—but you need a second to think without his lips on yours.

Did you really just kiss him?

Poe Dameron?

The love of your life?

And he’d kissed you back?

“It’s wrong, but surely worse to leave…”

You’re searching his face for answers and he seems to be doing the same—that is, until, you both come to the conclusion that another kiss is probably the answer.

“She hits like ecstasy…”

It still isn’t clear whether or not you’d just dreamed this moment into real life, but there was something about the way he was gripping onto you. Something that screamed “I’m never going to let you go. I’m never going to let you go. I’m never going to let you go.” And honestly? You didn’t want him to.

“So free up the cheaper seats…”

Even though you’re too out of breath for kissing, you still need to be as close to him as possible—thus being the last detail of the story as to how you ended up in the middle of a cantina on Ajan Kloss, dancing with the love of your life, foreheads pressed together while laughing, still high from the first two kisses just a mere few hours after the war of your generation ended.

“Here comes an Alderaanian Tragedy.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @browneyedhimbo, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @poe-djarin, @marvelinsanity​, @softly-sad​, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14, @houseofthirst, @arkofblake​, @asianravenpuff​

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @propertyofdindjarin​, @coldbreadbouquetworld​, @melvls​, @thedevilwearsbeskar, @agentshortstacc​

Poe Dameron: @poe-damnnn-eron​, @lapilark​, @peterhollandkait​, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​, @twomoonstwosuns​, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust​, @legamelo​, @xremember-me-notx​, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby​, @yourbucky084​, @agents-assemble​, @daydreamerinadazedworld​, @darthadeline​, @roserrys​, @fandom-addict-aesthetics​

Story Tag: @permanentmess​

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fic #poe dameron imagine #star wars fic #star wars imagine #my writing

[lovecinnatwist]

So I know you wrote a star sapphire Dick au, but I raise you a star sapphire Jason au—he always seems to love everyone around him a lot more than they seem to love him and he just wants to be loved so badly poor baby

Hello Anon! I loveeee this idea! You didnt specify a pairing so I've made it gen. Let me know if you have a pairing in mind. I've left it open for ideas.

All are welcome to slide into my DMs with ideas for star sapphire!Jason.

Lanterns Lead Home

The first moment of consciousness Jason Todd has after being beaten to- not death apparently- is warmth. 

The fuzzy feeling of being held by what must be twenty different pairs of hands pulls him back as he wakes. Every broken sob and desperate scream that wants to rattle free of his chest melts away into nothing. The air itself seems to vibrate with something sweet that he can’t put a name too. Every draw of breath fills him with kindness until he can recall the feeling-

love.

Tender touches chase away the bruises and scars until he can’t remember if they were ever there. Soft and caring caresses cup his cheeks and soft lips kiss away his tears. It’s too much and something that he’s been without for so long. For a moment he thinks of Catherine. Who she had been before the drugs. The thought of her breaks something in his chest. He cries and what seems like dozens of voices echo out validations. They sing back welcoming calls to release and let go.

So Jason does but he’s still floating. Still in the warm embrace of what he realizes must be his sisters. They must be because they call him that over and over and over again. A cup of something sugary comes to his lips and he gulps it down greedily. It coats his insides sweeping through him like a scolding saccharine syrup.

Consciousness starts to slip again but insistent slaps to the face jolt him awake. 

‘ Not yet. ‘

He knows what the words are but his ears don’t actually hear them. The woman over him has blue skin and gorgeous eyes that see into everything he is. He wants to turn away from it but she holds him steady. There is another cup. She makes him drink and this time Jason feels like he’s suffocating. 

He swallows more cups until he feels like he's at his limit. Then the hands are moving him and the rocking motion makes him feel sick. He passes from one hand to another until someone is bringing him to his knees in front of a huge glittering basin. 

“ Purge Ja’s Purge and be reborn. “

He feels dizzy and sick. Like he’s still rocking. He clenches onto the cool surface ahead of him. He tries to collect himself but memories start surfacing like bile in his throat. He remembers everything in startling detail. It all flashes before him until he flies forward and purges. 

He shakes and shudders through it. The loud cheers after every heave grounds him in support. Many hands hold him to stop him from falling in but no one stops him from emptying everything that he is into the quickling filling basin. 

He trembles and they replace that one for another. He can’t believe there’s more to give but everytime he feels peace a vile memory twists up and sends him face first into the bucket. By the time he’s thoroughly wrung out and empty- gentle hands pull him up. He doesn’t fight as he’s taken by many hands to a cool pool that bubbles against his skin. It fizzes and sizzles but doesn’t burn as his body is submerged. His eye lashes flutter. 

He gets a vague glimpse of blue skin and pinks and then someone tells him to hold his breath. 

He does and goes under. Everything goes black. 

Most Pink Lanterns don’t need to go through the rebirth. At least that is what Ja’s has heard from the others. The ring finds them before anything bad can happen. Usually during high emotions of love or joy something Ja’s has felt little of. Or well maybe that isn’t quite right. 

He does love, he loves everything. He loves hard, fast, passionate and ferociously but sometimes it feels like there isn’t any left for him. Sure he’s had people care for him, but to choose him first? To love him first…. Wilis loved money, then Catherine loved the drugs, then there's Bruce who loved the Crusade and Alfred… well Alfred could never love him more than Bruce. 

It had been that that drove him to Ethiopia in the first place.

He remembers everything in startling clarity now. His birth, his life, his death and of course both rebirths. It’s hard to forget the feeling of splitters digging into your fingertips and the taste of mud as you dig yourself out of your own grave. Who knows how long he had been wandering Gotham in a fuzzy haze? No one found him, no one had been looking for him. At least that's what he thought until he saw a pink glow.

The star sapphire. His star sapphire to be precise. 

Lost in the memory he gently touches the gem. It’s a wonderment, meeting the sisters of the lanterns corps and of course… getting permission to be- well who he's always known himself to be, Ja’s as they call him.

It had been freeing to be allowed to be nurturing. To be allowed to be tender and to care. Despite the changes that he’s gone through he feels more like himself than ever before. Like his body suddenly fits and he is grateful for the Zamarons for allowing him the ceremony. They honor his pronouns, as they all honor and celebrate femininity as its essence and not as sex or gender. Ja's has learned nothing if not the suffering of smothering his divine feminine in his last life. 

Now he is free.

( He tells himself that's why he hasn’t gone home to Gotham. Not because the existence of the third Robin Bruce has replaced him with. )

He does a good job at ignoring his old life and memories for the most part too. The few indulges he allows are watching digital transmissions of different versions of pride and prejudice with his sisters. Even in space nothing seems to beat human literature, something that Ja's gets to share with the others. He learns how to love deeper. Not only himself but more importantly everyone and everything. Mostly in the emotional sense… while the others- well Ja's isn’t quite ready for the sexual sense yet. 

Like many of the Pink Lantern Corps he has yet to meet his soul mate. 

The thought flutters low in his stomach. While he could easily show someone their love in his ring, the power didn’t work for star sapphires themselves. They simply had to wait for the pull and circumstance when they would feel the electricity in the air. Other members in the corps said that the feeling is indescribable. Like swallowing lightning or crashing into a planet with nothing to cushion the fall.

Though unfortunately, most of his sisters felt that with every good looking creature they came across. 

Ja's takes a drink, lounging about in the Green Lanterns station. They’re taking a short interlude before heading back home. One that the others are taking full advantage of.  It’s kind of embarrassing how the revealing costume and reputation of his corps makes others stare. He hears the whispers and feels the eyes on him just as clearly. 

It’s stupid because he isn’t even the best looking of them all. In a universe full of aliens most lanterns find humans rather dull. He hears the giggles as the others flirt. That’s all it is sometimes, flirting. While other times- Ja's turns the blind eye to Nadia’s wink as she disappears with a lantern down the corridor. He doesn’t flush long familiar with their games. Still a little part of him feels empty.

If only he could give as freely as they did. 

The chair next to him creeks making him sigh. Great, another lantern trying their luck. Couldn’t they tell he just wants to finish his drink in peace? He turns around to give the person a piece of his mind, anger already hot on his tongue. 

That is until playful green eyes fall on his. Ja's immediately tries to escape but Ryner grabs his wrist.

“ Well if it isn’t my favourite Star Sapphire. “

Ja's knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to pull the other off without causing a scene. He gives one more futile tug while Kyle just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. He groans just as the lantern orders himself his own drink. 

“ What do you want Ryner? “

The green lantern only lets go when he’s sure Ja's won’t run. Which is funny considering the fact that he's always running. Whether it be from bad guys, suitors or most times his sisters. It’s something that comes from growing up on the streets. The only place he’s ever felt safe had been… warm memories of the manor and Bruce's smile tug at his heart.

“ What makes you think I want something Ja’s? “

The very clear inflection of his voice Ja's wants to say. The other human has always made himself a pest whenever their corps comes to visit. It’s probably because they are both humans and around the same age. Not that they’ve really spoken about how they both ended up here. 

He doesn’t answer Ryner and takes a sip of his drink instead. The playful smile on the green lantern holds no matter how long Ja's ignores him. 

“ So I'm going down to Terra thought maybe you’d like to come? Apparently Batman could use some extra hands. “

At the mention of Batman Ja's interest piques. It’s rare to hear about anyone from his former life. Of course he does look through mission logs from time to time. It’s public access in the lantern corps library after all- but otherwise it's uncommon for Bruce to ask for help. The last thingJas's saw was Batman, Nightwing and Robin rescuing Hal from a villain he didn’t recognize. 

Ryner is either ignorant to his inner conflict or ignores it. 

“ It’ll be fun. You know Bats never lets us in his city. Could be nice? We could get a burger afterwards. Maybe catch a movie. “

It sounds like a date. Ja's would think it’s one too if he hadn’t told Ryner exactly how he feels about those things. He’s a nice guy, not bad looking from what he can see… but still he needs- well he wants the spark. 

He meets the boyish smile with a frown but it does nothing to make it go away. He shouldn’t. He’s done pretty well ignoring both earth and the bats. Still the big huge heart in him wants. He wants to see Bruce again and help him. 

A tiny part of him wants to go home and pretend like his dad still loves him even though he’s gone and gotten a new kid. One who’s probably in Ja’s room with all new clothes that are fitting of a good son. A loved son. 

Ryner bumps shoulders with him pulling him out of his head. His ring had begun to flicker a bit from the emotional distress. The other human places a hand over it to block the light and Jason let’s him. It’s a distraction. 

“ C’mon Ja’s Earth isn’t like you remember it. Let me show you a good time? “

That stupid hopeful smile and the shy way Ryner really looks at him hurts. He’s weak to things like this. People actually caring about him. He’s practically starving for it. He swallows down his protest. After all it would probably be nice to see his family again. They probably wouldn’t even recognize him. He could go and help and then maybe take up Ryner on his offer for a burger. 

Something light. Something Casual. 

“ Fine.. That sounds ok- I’ll go. “

Ja's wishes he could ignore the stupid happiness radiating off of the other lantern. 

“ Swear to God Ja’s this is going to be so much fun- You aren’t gonna regret it. There’s this one place that serves burgers like the size of your head and the art on the wall is just so hilarious- “

Ja's rolls his eyes as he finishes the last of his drink. 

“ Shut up Ryner and don’t make me regret this. “

The green lantern mims zipping his mouth shut and Ja's laughs.

Turns out he’s actually right as well. 

Jas's hasn’t been to Earth in years and it really shows. The place looks different. Even Gotham in all its dirt and grime feels foriegn to him. He joins the other lanterns in their job of catching and sending the aliens back to a prison at the corps. It’s fun with the little quips the Green Lanterns seem to toss back and forth between one another. Jason isn’t used to it but it’s a vibrant kind of energy that leaves a smile on his face even while he’s fighting. 

With the group supers the battle is over quickly. Quick enough and Ja's finds himself disappointed. He doesn’t know why but ever since they’ve been back in Gotham he has been positively vibrating. It’s new and exciting and maybe it’s because he caught a few glimpses of familiar capes and blue. 

When they all land on the roof for briefing Ja's feels like he’s about to burst from the excitement. 

This time when Ryner bumps into his shoulder it isn’t quite as annoying and he bumps back. It’s playful and light which seems to be the mood with them all. That is until Batman comes down with his dark dramatics.Jas's goes stone still at the sight of him. A blue and Black shadow follows behind before the bright colors of Robin pop up the edge of the building. 

It’s- strange to him. Like being on the wrong side of a mirror. He takes in what he can see of Bruce’s face from under the mask. The worn lines seem just too deep to be on the man he thought of as his father. Even Dick’s posture feels different and the new Robin… Well Ja's wishes he could say he feels anger but if anything he just feels- strange. There’s also something else. It’s slow and thrumming in his mind like he’s running on outdated software. His entire body itches all over and all he wants is to get closer. He needs to be closer. Close enough to touch, feel and just make sure they're real. That they are who he remembers and not just a figment of his imagination-  

Ryner nudges him and Ja's hisses under his breath. 

“ We gotta go. Didn’t you hear the man? “

Ja's had not heard him. The soothing quality of Bruce’s voice always made it hard to focus. The dark timber of it has always been more relaxing than menacing in his opinion. Just- being so close to them but not with them feels so strange. He knows he has to go over there. It’s been years and he probably doesn’t even fit in space left. There's anxiety at the thought, to go home he'd be willing to cut away any parts of him that he needed to. He swallows. It’s a sad and small mindset, something that he’s supposed to be better than by now. 

“ Heard him say what? “

Someone clears their throat and now there’s all eyes on them. Apparently they weren’t being as quiet as they thought.

“ That your help has been appreciated but you are not welcome in my city. “

Hearing it and knowing it are two different things. While Ja's always knew how Bruce felt about metas and supers, actually being told to leave is equal parts hilarious and frustrating. The itch that has been nagging him turns into an entire rash. He takes two steps forward but Ryners hand stops him from closing the distance. He shrugs off the touch, it doesn’t feel right. 

“ Yea? And who decides who comes into Gotham. Last I checked I have a birth certificate sayin i’m Gothamite and that means I can come to this cesspool whenever I want. “

He spits the words in the accent to prove a point. He’s giving away too much- too much information. He knows how Bruce obsesses over identities. It's not like the corps where everyone knew everything. A few people look around and Jas's suddenly feels even smaller. Ryner pulls him back and he can’t get himself to move. He just stares at Bruce hoping- wishing that the man will know it’s him. That he’ll close the distance and hug him and hold him. That he’ll smell like home like he always did when Jason could fit on his lap. 

Because as many sisters as he has now he only has one living father, brother and grandfather. He only has them and Jason wants so badly to be told that he could have them again. Space has never felt like much of a home. As much as the others made efforts they’re versions of love and his are different. He clung to the idea of meeting a soul mate and being full but now that he’s actually in front of Bruce he just wants to be here. With his dad. 

The shush on the roof is eerie. Ryner pulls harder and this time Ja's stumbles back. 

“ Ja’s lets go. “

The hardness of his voice spurs him into action. Bruce doesn’t move. He doesn’t move an inch and it hurts so badly he thinks he might die. When the lanterns take off he hesitates for just a moment. His eyes find Dick’s hoping for…. He doesn’t know what. When their eyes meet his heart pounds and his blood rushes in his ears. The blankness he gets back makes him flinch.

His eyes flicker to the Robins and the innocent wide eye stare is just- too much. He feels like a spectacle. His eyes flutter around and soon he realizes just how out of place he is. Not like he ever fit to begin with. 

Shame rolls over him. He staggered back a few steps. No one moves and his throat goes dry. He turns and flies after Ryner in mortification.

#star sapphire jason au #ficlets #lanterns lead home #gen fic

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Vampires Don’t Sparkle

For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Writer Wednesday and @flightlessangelwings​pride weekly writing challenge!

Prompt: Glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side.”

Pairing: Max Phillips x werewolf!OFC

Warnings: Language, minor fight, angst, fluffy ending, Max can be soft when he wants to and I will prove it. ALSO. My blatant love for pretty dresses because the second dress in the link is just *chefs kisses* and what I imagine Doll in.

A/N: Soooo, this particular oc doesn’t have a name yet, so Doll is the filler name I’ve been using while writing the actual fic. Doll has been a werewolf for about 15 years before she met Max and this is sometime in the future after they realize that they don’t, in fact, want to kill each other and it’s just love.

“Max Phillips! I swear to whatever gods there are I am GOING to stake your sorry ass!”

“My very fine, sorry ass?”

“Fuck you! If you wanna play dirty then I’m going to tell the whole office you do sparkle in the sun” she huffs, glaring at the garment bag draped on the couch as she walks by it.

She is not going. She told him a million times. He knows, he fucking knows, what she hates about this time of year, about this stupid annual party for a stupid thing to celebrate.

“Doll!” Max’s voice all but whines after her, his steps casual, like this is just another simple negotiation with a nervous potential client.

“No, I told you! I explained it and you said, and I quote “it’s absolutely fine babe, no big deal“ your exact words!” she tosses the words like barbs over her shoulder at him.

“Okay, I know that but-”

“No. Big. Deal.” she turns on her heel, stopping Max from coming any closer with a scowl, challenging him with his own words.

He could drag this out, make it seem not so bad, bargain and maybe make a deal but he gets the distinct sense that this is not a particular bear (well, wolf actually) he should poke.

“Okay, don’t come, it is no big deal” he smirks like he means it but her shoulders don’t relax “I’ll let sleeping dogs lie.”

That gets a sigh and an eye roll out of her. And she slams the bedroom door in his face.

Still mad, not seething, but there’s nothing volatile in her scent that washes in the air around him when he turns away from the closed door and he’ll take it.

He gets it. Why she doesn’t like this particular holiday and what it means. Well, at least what it use to mean back when she was alone. It’s a raw nerve that he hasn’t figured out a way to talk himself around yet.

Listening for any encouraging sounds beyond the bedroom door and finding nothing but her heartbeat and the shuffle of her body on the sheets.

Maybe next year.

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

Doll stays curled up under the heavy comforter until the sound of his footsteps fade away down the hall outside of the apartment, the soft click of the elevator button making her jaw clench.

It’s not Max she is mad at, not even at the garment bag she hadn’t even peeked inside of.

No, there is nothing angry inside of her anymore, just . . . sad. Tired even. It’s all an empty imitation of the burning feeling she had the first few years after she was changed.

The scars that remain from it are old and faint but they pinch and ache at the memory. The reminder that no matter how many years go by nothing will change for her and how is it harder now that she had someone to share it with?

Shouldn’t it feel lighter knowing that Max won’t be ground away into nothing by time like rocks under the weight of the ocean?

Fuck this. Fucking fuck this.

Hurling away the covers, she gets out of bed and strides toward the door, shedding her baggy shirt and shorts on the way until she’s standing in nothing but her underwear, glowering at the garment bag.

Whatever sits inside of it will undoubtedly fit her perfectly because that’s just so Max. She anticipates red, tight, and barely there when she tugs at the zipper of the bag. None of which she has anything against but it’s all more Max than her and oh holy shit-

That is not at all what she had expected but okay. It’s more than okay. It’s sheer black and velvet and beading with a slit that crawls nearly up to the waist line and a high collar with light sleeves and she kind of can’t wait to put it on. If she can figure out how to.

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

The city is loud and pressing as all cities are for her senses and on New Year’s Eve inside an elaborately decorated building that vaguely reminds her of Die Hard? She might as well have brought noise canceling headphones.

She has no idea how Max does this on a regular basis.

It’s all smells of pricey hor d’oeuvres, bubbles fizzing in glasses of champagne and the ebb and flow of the crowds. But there’s no reason to text Max and ask where he is in this maze because hunting each other down the old fashion way is much more fun.

Barely fifteen minutes in, she keeps track, and technically she scented him first but the look on Max’s face when he spots her over the shoulder of the person he was talking to is worth letting it slide.

He gives some quick excuse and makes his way over to her, barely hiding the giddiness in is step and she really should tell him how fucking adorable that dimple is when he smiles.

“I’m sorry I threatened to stake your-” her words get cut off when he wraps her up in a hug that absolutely would have crushed her ribs were she human.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m just really glad you came” he breathes the words into her ear, cheek pressed snugly to hers in an imitation of her usual greetings after long days apart.

“Still, I know you just wanted me to have fun, I shouldn’t have threatened your very fine ass” she slips her arms just as tightly around him.

“Doll, if I wanted you to really have fun we would be as far from here as possible” Max pulls back only far enough to look her in the eyes, grinning now.

“You’re such a dick, Phillips” she huffs, tone holding nothing but affection.

“Well, you also pulled the ‘sparkly vampire’ card earlier so . . .” his hands slide down to the velvet fabric of the high-waisted skirt, dangerously close to her ass.

“Well, you are kind of sparkling right now after you rubbed off half the glitter on my face.”

He frowns, eyes narrowing and looking from one side of her face to the other, the silver flecks of glitter uneven from one cheek to the other as the amusement in her eyes grows.

“Hmmm, doesn’t matter” he declares, dipping his face back down so it’s level with hers “I’m just happy you’re by my side this year.”

She grabs his chin, foreheads pressed together, and rubs at the glitter on the apple of his cheek with her thumb, a light, dizzy feeling swelling up in her chest. It’s tinged with fear, like it always is after another year passes, but now it doesn’t feel like she’ll drift away.

She has an anchor now, an occasionally full of himself and slightly bratty anchor, but also a thoughtful, caring and secretly loving one.

“I’ll always be by your side, Max” she tells him and makes sure he feels it when she presses her lips to his.

#writer wednesday #Jey's Pride Celebration 2k21 #max phillips #max phillips x ofc #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips imagine #max phillips drabble #i love pretty dresses that I would never fit in to #but oh well #i really got in my feels on this didn't i? #duck did it

[comfy-whumpee]

Lauritz

TW: addiction (beginning of italics section, skippable).

The thing crackles when it comes on. The crackle fizzes against his head, as if he can feel it before it touches his skin. He feels like perhaps he can. There’s a current running through him, an electric fear that exposes every nerve like sparking wires. His skin feels like it’s ready to jump off his bones and run. He wishes he could follow. He wishes...

Then the pain comes, flashing across him and whiting out his thoughts with a harsh jolt.

Silence, and he catches his breath, trying to blink through the haze. His ears are ringing. Something twitches, he isn’t sure where it is. He closes his eyes, opens his eyes, tries to look around, but there are only white patches.

The crackle comes on again, and Lauritz remembers to close his teeth together so he doesn’t bite his tongue. He doesn’t know how he knows to, but the thought--

Disappears from his head with the jab of the electricity again against his shoulder, sending a spasm like an earthquake through his bad arm and down into his muscles, and this time he screams, hoarse and half-voiced, breaking up into a static gurgle as the - cattle prod? As it pulls away.

Oxygen pulls into his lungs painfully, dragged in down a throat that burns. He’s tired already. It’s only been two. There’s going to be ten.

“Ple...” he tries, but the word croaks into nothingness, and pain shears over him in response, pulling his body out of his control. He jerks in the chains, rattling them above his head. His hands are shaking. “Pl...se...”

The crackle and the stab of pain rocketing across him, and his voice wheezes out in a failed cry. The pain stops, then starts again, moments later, and he seizes up, yanking on the manacles and trying to force his voice into motion. It’s like a nightmare, unable to scream, unable to move, body twitching out of his control even after the shock has stopped, and his voice won’t come out, and his breaths are just wisps of air.

He feels like he swallowed a sword of flame and he knows there are still four to go.

The skin is numb when it hits him again, but the wires that run through his skin are no less potent, like poison in his veins. He gasps for breath when it finally stops, and even that barely makes a rasp. This is how he lost his voice, he realises distantly, until the thought is wiped out by the agony.

Two...One left? Only one left, he thinks.

He screams. His body is aflame. His throat vents pain and it only comes back stronger.

He’s done, he’s done, that was ten--

Body dissolves into white flame. He can’t stop shivering. Was it not ten? Were there more? Please, he’s had enough, he needs it to stop--

Please. He can’t do this. The time between them is blurring. The pain isn’t stopping. His chest is locked up and he can’t breathe--

He can’t take it, he can’t, he can’t, stop, please, stop, stop--

Tears stream down Lauritz’s face as his body twitches and shudders like a dying flame, sputtering out, and he can’t find where the air is and he can’t hear anything but the ringing, singing ears and a voice, faint, “Stop, stop it!”

But there’s nobody here but him and the scientists and they never listen when he begs them, they never--

His body combusts and when it fades, he shudders. He’s a man made of ash. He heaves in a single, thin breath, and feels the pounding in his head slow just slightly. He blinks, white and grey static giving way to a twist of shadows. Where is he?

“Leave him alone, he hasn’t done anything!”

But the rat has done so many things, so many evil things, and he had to be punished for who he used to be.

Rain. It’s Rain, on their chair, fists clenched and glaring angrily at Alfonse, standing over him with the silenced weapon in his hand. No more crackles. It’s over.

Weren’t they going to pretend not to care?

“He’s done plenty,” Alfonse says, his husky bass sending a shiver right through Lauritz’s bones - or is that the aftershocks? “You know very well what he’s done. And he’s done much more than you were there for, of course. He’s not a redeemable man.”

“He’s not even the same man,” Rain says. “He’s different. You scrubbed out who he was and now he’s just - a gullible idiot. It’s like watching you experiment on a rat.”

Lauritz looked down. A rat. Yes... He knew. They still thought of him that way.

Alfonse was unmoved. The crackle came on again, and Lauritz tensed with a whimper, only to be rebutted by the man’s laugh. “He was a lab rat, you know. We didn’t know if the procedure would work. But he made a good test subject - nobody to miss him - and the results were better than we’d hoped. He was stupid afterwards, of course... But that wasn’t a detriment at all.”

Rain doesn’t object that he’s stupid. He must be, if they think so. Or maybe everyone is stupid compared to them. Instead they breathe steadily, still blindfolded but appearing more relaxed than ever. “So why shock him now? Hoping he’ll forget me?”

Alfonse laughs again, louder, and Lauritz feels himself shrink as it bounces across the walls. “No.”

Without warning, hot metal stabs against Lauritz’s back and pain lasers across his body. He screams, and screams louder when it doesn’t stop, and screams again as something vast and lightless opens inside his head and he knows, deeper than he knows his own name, that he’s been here before.

The shock stops but the empty space does not go away. He can’t close a door on it like he did before. And it’s growing.

-

Lauritz needs his fucking fix. He needs it. It itches at him constantly. His thoughts loop and circle back to it as if tethered. He needs. He sits on his ratty old sofa, half-watching some shit fucking TV show, and tries not to think about the relief and floating pleasure.

Fuck. Fuck, he just wants to be happy for a while, is that so much to fucking ask?

His work phone rings. He picks it up. Stupid thing, but the boss had got him one for the new job, and he wouldn’t risk pissing off that guy. People who pissed that guy off had a way of fucking vanishing. “Yeah?”

“Lauritz.” The voice was deep and rich with a husky quality. Lauritz didn’t go for guys like the boss, but he’d fuck that voice alone. “You’ve been out of touch for a while. How are things with our guest?”

Lauritz grunted and got up, stiff joints protesting to the movement. His mum would’ve said to exercise more, but fuck it, she wasn’t here to care these days. He walks through the dim hallway and to the door to the kid’s room. He listens for a minute, hand on his knife, before unlocking and opening it.

They looked up at him and the instant terror in their eyes was a little high all of its own. Their eyes flicked to the phone and back, and they licked their lips but didn’t ask. They’d stopped talking so much a few days ago, fucking finally. He was getting tired of kicking them. The only time they talked was when they were fucking begging him over the bathtub, and that was an exception. He was riding high those times, so a bit of whining didn’t bother him. And making them repeat his name? Fucking delicious.

He closed the door again. “Kid’s fine.” He walked back down the hall, ignoring the little cupboard where the bitch was chained up and gagged. The boss didn’t have to know about that shit. He’d be in the fire if anyone found out some meddling fuck had come looking. “I’m keeping them fed and shit. Why, you want me to cut off a finger or something?”

The boss laughed. So fucking hot. “No need for that. A lock of hair, I think. Perhaps a video, next week.”

“Got it. Hey, can you send a guy over with some molly?”

“Of course. Just don’t get merry on the job, Lauritz.”

Fuck, Lauritz liked people saying his name. If only the boss wasn’t married to that nutjob Sinclair.

“You got it.”

-

The video. The video was what had done it. Something in the background, a glimpse of the window, or something Rain had said, coded to give them enough clues to get his house raided. Lauritz had only barely gotten away.

Alfonse had found out. He’d shown up barely two months later, furious, saying something about how the kid’s family were pulling back business. Lauritz hadn’t known why he was there, hadn’t seen why it was his problem that the scare tactics had gone wrong. Alfonse hadn’t bothered explaining. Just punched him out, fists across his face, until everything had gone black. He’d woken up in the empty room.

Lauritz’s eyes were wet. He looked at Rain on the ground, curled up tight and listening without sight. It was his own fucking fault that this had happened. He really knew that now. He’d gone along with so much shit to get money for drugs. So much. And who was it who had given him his first high? Alfonse’s fucking recruiter.

The whole time, he’d assumed that whatever torture he’d done to them, it had been a random act. There hadn’t been a scheme behind it but a quick ransom. But this... The knowledge, from the old Lauritz, was lodged in his head like a bullet. The scum he’d been. The joy he’d taken in an excuse to hurt someone. The... The loneliness.

He was a major fuck-up and Rain had - Kala too, they had both - given him more kindness than he deserved.

He knew that now. Really knew that.

Old Lauritz was filling in the gaps in his head, but the memories didn’t feel like him. Somehow, he’d been handed a fresh start in what had meant to be his end. Somehow, he had a chance to... Do some fucking good in his life, for once. The lunchbox, and the grapes, and his mum, they had all faded for his old self, and yet they were the things that came back first. Selfless, loving gestures.

He blinked the tears from his eyes. Alfonse was still there, watching. Lauritz fought the urge to curl his lip at the man who had ruined his life. “Please,” he said instead, hoarse and quiet. It was obvious that Alfonse wanted him to remember, and that he had was the only advantage to be found in this situation. He kept his voice soft and his head low. Just as he - himself, new Lauritz - just as he always had.

Alfonse sighed. He walked out. Lauritz slumped in the chair, knowing there was nothing else he could do. He couldn’t tell Rain; they would never trust him again. He couldn’t act on the knowledge he had. He just... He was still useless. A useless little rat.

p, li { white-space: pre-wrap; }

#whump #electrocution #amnesiac whumpee #whumper return #past trauma #addiction tw #sadistic whumper #lauritz #alfonse #rain #my fic #nanowrimo extract

[madmadmilk]

One After The One PART 1 | Tom Holland x Reader

Tinder BIO | soft TEASER | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | >>

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: What does one in a million even mean? Does it mean you’re the first of many or the fucking last? Does it mean that you’re somewhere in the middle? And what happens to the poor baby who ends up being the 999,999th one? Or worse, the one after The One? There ought to be some kind of prize for second to last, and second runner up. Especially when being #2 is your specific talent.

Warnings: Cursing, Suspicion, some Hard to Swallow Pills, and a million blurry pics

Word Count: 6.7K swipes left

Special Shoutout: Thank you @hypnotized-so-mesmerized for being a BETA for this chapter and for you lovely input!

-

“I can’t fucking believe you’ve got me fifth wheeling for this….” you sigh, as you blow strands of your hair away from your face. You walk briskly atop of the shifting sand behind your leggy friend.

All 5 foot 10 inches of her shakes with laughter as she watches you trip over yourself. She shrugs, “The more the merrier?”

You roll your eyes, resigning to a smile as she waves back for your hand to hold. You reach out and accept her offer loosely, allowing yourself to be pulled along.

“Come on, the boys are waiting.”

Right.

You watch the festival lights cast a warm glow at the edges of her silhouette. She smiles at you, bronzed, beautiful–– taken.

Over the past year, all your best friends started fucking dating each other.

Leaving you single, alone, and second best.

It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t unnatural–– but it quite literally happened over night. “This” is just your “new normal.”

You all still hung out, together, mismatched or separately. Nothing has stopped them from asking you to hang out, but there are times where you feel… The Line.

It was Common Sense tingling and telling you that certain occasions were more of a “date-night” rather than friendly get together. And the last thing you wanted to be was a cockblock to your own goddamn friends.

Like tonight, you were tagging along to the late-night-end-of-the-summer beach bar hop bash, with your two pairs of your closest friends. Sam and Ry, short for Ryan. And Liza and K, short for Erik.

Then there’s you, of course.

The three boys were waiting with drinks in hand, while you and Liza took your sweet time climbing the sandy stairs. This was the usual ritual, but you stood alone when you reached the guys. They paired off, easily, naturally, sweetly.

The vibrating radio-centric music drowned out the sounds of the lapping ocean, the conversation you walked into was near unintelligible, and the crowd was excited about something.

God, I wish that were me.

There wasn’t anything wrong with going to this year’s beach bash, as you go to it as a group every year–– it’s just that this time they were holding hands and you were holding a drink. It’s more sour than you’d like.

You were fine coming out “alone,” but who wants to be alone?

You greet one another with warm hugs and Liza immediately dives into a rant about officially moving in with K, and about how he doesn’t wanna mix his laundry with hers–– all those new domestic nuances. 

Sam rolls his eyes and exclaims, “Ry is the same fucking way–– like, it’s just cloth, babe.”

“Easy for you to say when all you wear is black––“ Ry retorts, pushing his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

Everyone starts with a snickering laugh, clinking beer bottles and recanting similar experiences.

Tonight you just don’t feel like it.

Living alone and sleeping alone is one of your specific talents. It’s been nice to have your own fucking bed, your own fucking room, your own fucking space–– all of it to just BE your own fucking self, by your fucking self. You’ve been this way for twenty-odd years now (kind of, you know what i mean). Love and friends are welcome to hang out, but at the end of the day, the place is all yours. And yours alone. That’s what home means to you.

“–– But living together hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be,” Liza smacks her lips, looking down in short embarrassment. She leans back against K, “There are good things too.”

Sam is quick to point out their PDA, and you take another sip of your drink. You would have spoken up to contribute about your own experiences, once upon a time. But that’s a sore topic you’re not willing to relive on this breezy night.

Instead, you laugh along, crossing your arms while propping your elbow on the bar. You’ll let tonight be as rosy as it can be with no time to dwell. Your drink is near empty, consumed faster than you remember. Someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You blink dryly, resurfacing. “Hm?”

K is rubbing the side of your arm, those hazel eyes darkened in the low light. His dark brows were raised high, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” you answer easily. You hold up your drink, making a smug face and down it to his bemusement. You shake the empty bottle, setting it back on the table. “Always good.”

He nods slowly, looking over at the other three still gossiping amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but you can only imagining Sam and Liza were poking at each other by the way that Ry was smiling.

K swings his head back to you, “Wanna dance?”

“Sure.”

And you follow him, aware that, no, he didn’t want to dance. He wanted to talk.

You walk away with him, unnoticed by the others and tracing your finger across a brick wall. He stops, leaning against it and you do too. Looking over him, neat clothes and nervous face, you raise a brow.

“Sorry––“ he starts slowly, scratching the back of his neck.

“For what?” You laugh, scrunching your brows as you nod your head to the muffled music.

“This. It’s weird, right? Us. All of us, dating. That last year we were the ones single and you were––“ he sighs, pulling his lip to the side, “Last year was totally different. And now we’re all here, still together. Together-together.”

“Mhm, it was going to happen sooner or later,” you muse. K has loved Liza since Day One. And you and him have both known it, and what it means to him now. His dreams become reality every second that passes.

“Shut up,” he swats at your arm. You see the curl of his smile behind the embarrassment, “Nah. No. But this must be awkward for you, huh?”

You shrug. “Little bit. I’ll get over it, you guys are still my friends.”

His eyes search yours for the real truth. They were all so worried that them coupling up would ruin something, between themselves and with you. Ha. You told they they were stupid for thinking that. You believe in seizing the opportunities, in taking leaps and following your partner around the world–– in theory, at least.

They confided in you individually and you told them all the same thing. Tailored to their personalities, but in the same conceptual vein. 

“If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then at least you tried and you don't have to spend another day wondering ‘what if..?’”

And they bought it. Now, that being said, you already knew that they all fucking liked each other so–– push her and push him and push him and him, and things will fall into place.

It’s just that… the new thing is that you’re the one out out of the loop. You used to be the first to know but now you’re last to find out. And that is strange.

You’re not their number 1 anymore. And there’s nothing you can say about it.

“You’re still my best friend, got it?” K leans his shoulder on yours and you rest yourself against him too. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Today, but not tomorrow.

It’s hard not to be bitter, and it’s horrible that there’s no remedy for it. FOMO is a new-age disease, after all. No science to sort it out yet, no justification to satiate it.

“So…. You talkin’ to anyone? Looking?” He asks too casually for a question he knew you hated. He bumps elbows with you and shake along with it.

“Nope,” your mouth pops at the “p.” 

He raises his brows again, and argh you hate that. There was always someone you were talking to, or someone you’ve been with. But not these days. These days you felt too tired to be someone’s ideal anything. 

“There are some cute guys around, looking at you,” his eyes twinkle a little too brightly for a straight guy with horrible taste. (Facts backed up by Sam, Ry, Liza, AND personal experience) “Plenty of fish, yeah?”

You shake your head, not interested. Sex could come and go, infatuation could come and go–– but you’re kinda tired of the short stuff.  But not exactly ready for a whole-ass relationship either. You don’t need to explain yourself–– you just know you wouldn’t last the night.

“Not in the mood,” you huff.

“Tonight,” he says suggestively, wiggling his shoulders.

You both laugh, you a little bit dryly. You try to direct his attention back to Liza and their budding romance, as the trio finds you guys again. At first they didn’t immediately stand coupled, Ry handing you a drink and Sam going to talk to K. Liza smoothed out her clothes and you all talked about some new plans. It was an honest good time. Ry spilled his drink on Sam, and complained about the laundry again–– Liza got waaaay too drunk and you and K were holding her in your arms while she staggered like Bambi.

It was nice and warm, and a lot like old times. 

I missed that.

You felt yourself smile and let loose–– not thinking of old ex’s or new flings. Just about the friends before you and how safe they made you feel, and how happy you are to see them happy. That’s love, right?

“Oh my god, look!” someone exclaimed, pointing a finger at the sky. You hear a loud clap.

As the night faded and grew colder, fireworks erupted into the sky with a loud crackle. You guys squealed and ran to the top of a sand dune, tripping and tumbling to see the dying summer sights. The fizzing calmed your calls. It’s funny how loud fiery skies filled you with the same awe every time. How it quieted you and made you feel small.

The couples soon held each other, soft embraces with their necks craned upwards. Their eyes twinkled from bursts of lights, smiling at the sharp crackles of sound.

Tonight was the one of many nights they would be able to spend in each other’s arms, so far away and close to you all at once.

This was the line you were cautious about–– you couldn’t talk to them when they were like this, out of courtesy. Out of honoring their moment.

You stood back, watching their excited faces instead of the bursting sky. You felt it. Not jealousy or bitterness, but the awful choke of curiousity and selfishness. The “what if that were me?”

It’s been a while since you’ve had arms wrap over your shoulders and kissed your hair. Enough time has passed for you to forget what that felt like. Too long? What was that like again?

The finale of fireworks struck across the inky, dark sky. You inhaled the smell of chalky smoke, tasting the salt in the air.  Lights and colors fill your eyes, unblinking.

You suck in your cheeks as it quiets and you can hear the ocean again. 

And you let yourself think, I want that again.

So with a new pulse, you went home and did the only logical thing in finding the next Love of Your Life.

You downloaded Tinder.

-

You avoided “serious” dating and being a “serious” anything to anyone, but seeing that “seriousness” in your friends made you wonder if you could be anything like them. If you were ready to open your heart to the possibility of loving and being loved.

Seriously. Sincerely. No bullshit.

This time.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you messed around setting up a profile on Tinder. Regretfully spending way too long shuffling through old selfies that were engaging and enticing. You sigh as you pick through the lot, frustrated at the mind games that have already started.

It’s tiring.

And that’s probably why you end up cracking a few days later and end up telling Sam and Ryan. It was a short two word text, “Tinder. Help?” And you got a speedy reply from both of them (even when you knew they were most likely sat right next to each other). They were at your place in less than an hour.

Sam applauds your efforts, but is only there for moral support more or less. He’s an ace at the dating game, but has no patience to explain his ways. 

“Typical,” You and Ry hum, as Sam rifles through your pantry instead.

Ryan, quiet as he is, sat with you and looked through the photos you choose. He broke down the psychology of it all; about the aloofness and whatever–– which you understood. You need to try hard, but not look like you are. Effortlessness, funny, chic, digestible, likeable–– 

“Performative.” He says flatly, “But this is fast and simple.”

And you have to agree, looking at your phone in his hands.

You blink as you reflect.

This is so much easier in fiction, in those movies where people go on a million dates in one week and match with the hottest fucking dudes ever. Where the protagonist has the perfect amount of self-confidence to keep her moving forward, endless chances to mess up and and still get the guy… God, it’s so easy on paper. There’s no dignity to lose. But here? In the “real” world, even on an app you could delete at anytime–– to put yourself out there? Mortifying.

But, at least you’re bored enough to try.

So, what the fuck, right?

“Did you tell Liza and K yet?” 

“No, they would definitely try to set me up with someone real,” you laugh, leaning back on the couch. You wriggle your toes and tilt your head away.

Ry leans back with you with a brow raised, “Isn’t that… the point?”

Yeah, like, true. They have lots of friends they’re always trying to peddle your way, which is cool and all but… it’s a lot harder to pick and choose and ghost someone when you have mutual contacts.

He read the look on your face and nodded slowly, “Got it, got it.” He laughed to himself, perceptive and cautious. He extends his thoughts, “But you gotta tell us if you actually go and meet anyone. K would kill us if you didn’t say anything.”

“I won’t get into any trouble,” you squint, looking away from him mischievously.

“Uh-huh,” Ry affirms plainly as he swipes right on a few cute boys. 

-

Your experience with dating apps was limited–– you made a joke account a while ago and never really did much with it. Then you had a more “real” account that you never tried sincerely with. You had real people you dated at the time–– uhm. But now, now that you’re actually on here looking… it is bleak.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re winding down with a glass of wine swiping through your options. People you actually knew showed up, and you swiped that shit away so fast you almost chucked your phone with it. You flipped through people who looked fake for real, some older dudes, and plenty of people with vibes you didn’t like–– the pool is so wide you almost didn’t know where to start. And you could afford to be picky, sure. It’s just, who knew that “too many options” would actually be a problem.

You spend the next few days idling checking and chatting, not getting any viable catches. You felt like you were just peering into small windows, head in and head out. Nothing caught your attention long enough for you to want to look in further.

You even start poking at things you never wanted to acknowledge as real, like the impact of cheesy bios, and deciphering who was who in group pics, and the thrilling amount of dudes holding up fish.

Pretty wack.

You felt yourself grow tired of it again. The adrenaline was waning, burnt to the stump. Good thing you didn’t try too hard. Pfft.

You sleepily swipe away on your phone, too late into the night. You blink hard as you snuggle into your covers, muttering, 

“Just one more.”

Ah.

>>  check out the whole bio here <<

“T, 23. Friendly, neighborhood romantic,” you whisper to yourself. You crack a small smile.

After countless swipes left, and (1) accidental swipe right, you match with a blurry boy–– super sus, I know. You don’t know how it happened tbh–– there’s nothing to “look” at, but your eyes fell on this one. Maybe because you just watched “Far From Home,” and enjoyed this spidey reference. Or you’re just innately drawn to the word “romantic.” Could be either, easily.

“It’s a match!”

Shit. You mumble, your profile photos floating together. You take a second to look through his meager collection. They were all obscure and blurry and not exactly in the artsy way.

You couldn’t decipher much, only that he had fair skin (?), with dark hair and dark eyes, but even that was questionable. 

You’re pretty sure you matched with a bot or some old dude, or worse, a kid. You can hardly see his face in the pictures, blurry or cropped or covered.

Okay...

Is that his real name? Probably not. Is he actually 23? Doubt it. Is this going to go anywhere? Let’s hope not.

But whatever, it’s the first “match” that has seemed interesting in the past few days, solely on your pickiness. And this random bastards only gets you out of dumb luck.

You rub your eyes, and set down your phone, resigning to your stupidity.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Good night.

And the gears were set in motion as you slept.

You had a new message on tinder waiting for you, but you didn’t check the app until much later. You go through your Sunday morning routine, only opening your phone after a light breakfast and stretch. 

“Oh god,” you blink as you catch the red notification. You look around the room, preparing yourself for what could be anything. You take a deep breath and open the chat.

T: Hey

Oh. You stare at it, so bare with no personality to pick at. You wonder if you should even reply, but by the grips of boredom, you do.

You: Hey!

You set your phone down, trying to swallow the short thrill. You walk away for a moment. A reply comes within minutes.

And it’s a goddamn mess.

T: Sorry, i’ve never done this before.

Strike one. You suck in your cheeks. While you’re fairly new at this too, you… don’t know how much time you want to invest it in. Here again, you debate replying back–– but he beats you to it.

T: I’m trying to get over my ex

UHM? Strike two, you almost have to laugh. This is just testing your patience. Your jaw wriggles as you see he has more to say…

T: And you look a lot like her.

Damn. Strike three, he’s out. He’s got to know that would put anyone off, right? Why would you even admit that straight out? T? Come on, man.

You: i’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.

T: it’s an apology now, i didn’t know what to say

You: you could have complimented my killer smile or the pic of me with a dog. Anything but that

T: Right, right. I’m such a dickhead. Sorry, it’s nice to meet you though.

You hold your phone away, debating whether or not you should just delete the entire goddamn thing because this was just too stupid–– but it’s Sunday morning and what do you have left to lose. 

You chew on the side of your lip, deciding to entertain “T,” but don’t spare him any soft words. You’d rather get straight to the point.

You: So… you go by “T?” And don’t have any real pics of your face? Are you even real???

T: Yeah, just private

You: kinda defeats the purpose of putting yourself out there though, right? Lol

T: It’s too easy if i put my face out there

You: oh, ha ha ha. So you’re saying you’re too hot to show your face? Love the confidence dude

And this is where you start actually laughing out loud. You wipe away tears at the side of your eyes, cackling at this display of internet confidence. It’s a tiny piece of amusement from a stranger you have 0 feelings for, and you’re not going to be mean to him… but you’ll definitely poke fun to see how far you can get.

Besides, he’s still replying back right? That’s almost hilarious in itself.

T: Hey, confidence is sexy, right?

You: yeah, more in person than online! 😂 (Laughing emoji)

You take a second to scroll back through his photos, and check to see if he has a link to instagram, twitter, anything. But he doesn’t. You try to pull up any evidence you can–– and at the very least, these blurry pics all look like they’re taken of the same person.

Slight build with dark curled hair–– rippable from any ambiguous online “hot boy” mood board though. 

You’re wary.

You spot a picture with his smile, crinkled eye and lifted lip. You could swear he looked familiar… but maybe that’s because you’ve seen that same white boy/model on Pinterest.

Maybe.

T: wanna meet up and see for yourself?

You: maybe if you show me your face first

T: can’t do that quite yet, but I’d love to keep talking to you

You furrow your brows as you read his words. He would be down to meeting up with you upfront, but hesitates to send you a picture beforehand? That’s definitely a red flag, right? Right?

(Yes. Yes it is.)

You pull yourself back and let out a deep sigh. You’re probably the only person he’s talking to, especially with those purposeful (?) blurry pics and cryptic everything. Ugh.

It’s not playing yourself if you know it’s fake right? You can step out of this at anytime.

You: as long as you can hold my attention :) 

T: I’ll try my very best ✌🏼 (peace sign emoji)

–– and with some very, very loose banter…. you end up exchanging numbers. You’ve put the whole Tinder thing on pause for now–– all four days of it. All for one stranger with no tact.

Unknown Number: hey, this is t (smiley face)

You: pfffft, I’m going to call you Blurry Boy. Since your name obviously isn’t T

BB: that’s fine with me :) mind if i call you darling?

You: ew

BB: o come on. It’s cute

You: please tell me you’re actually 23 or i swear to god I’m going to fucking lose it

BB: I swear 🤞🏼 (fingers crossed emoji)

You: ok. Prove it. Send me a pic of you–– you face or whatever

Ok. That’s a leap. He could rip a picture from anywhere but let’s see how fast he could do it. If it takes too long, then he probably did just rip it from the internet.

And if he makes a mistake and actually sends you a clear pic of himself? Well, that could only be seen as a win.

BB: 

But you are ruthless.

You: ok. Send me another one.

And he could stop if he wanted to.

Only, he doesn’t. In a short moment, he sends another picture.

BB:

Same room, same face, same glasses. I guess you could believe him… for now. No matter how shitty the photos have end up....

But he could also be one of those people with folders full of stock photos… you never know.

But putting paranoia aside, you decide to turn off the heat a lil. You grab your coffee and sit on your couch, sliding into a comfy position. You turn on some YouTube videos on your laptop, watching the first few seconds as you lean your cheek against the couch cushions.

Phew.

You: thanks…. sorry I’m so paranoid. But you truly have the worst pictures of yourself put up there. Potato quality.

BB: nah, i know. I get it. Haha it’s alright, a pretty girl like you needs to protect herself

You: oh BOY that doesn’t make me feel any better 😂(laughing emoji)

BB: fuck, sorry. Ugh that is fuckin creepy. Shit. I’m terrible at texting

You: no, no. It’s alright. Actually, great job with taking those photos so fast. Most people would have taken sooooo much longer. You get a few points for not holding back

BB: babe, i told you. I’m gorgeous. I don’t gotta worry about it 😂😂💕 (laughing emojis)

You: right, right blurry boy. Great job with all those fuzzy ass photos.  🙄 (Eye roll emoji) haha are you really looking for someone out here or…?

BB: sort of. I’m testing out the waters and… you’re really pretty

You have to blink back and roll your eye, you’re unable to digest this conversation as real. They’re flowery words given to you, for sure, but your suspicion is much stronger. Your guard will not let down or be appeased by some blurry ass dude calling you “pretty.”

He replies before you have the chance.

BB: i dont wanna get into the messy details but yeah. Company sounds great right about now

You: yeah, i feel that

It’s a real and valid reply, but it’s a terrible one. It’s so hard for someone to reply back to that–– but you’re testing his perseverance. If he finds something to say back, it might just prove one more thing to you. That he might actually be interested, and someone worth talking to.

BB: sorry i lead with my baggage, I’m a fucking mess

You: *a confident fucking mess

BB: thank you 😇 (angel emoji)

You: don’t worry about it, I’ve seen worse

 You laugh darkly to yourself. I’ve been worse.

BB: hahahaha thanks. Ok. But all that aside… real talk now. Can I ask you about the dog in your photo now?

You hate to admit that your lips curled into a smile, as you hastily type back. 

Your coffee was half drank and cold by now. The YouTube video you were supposed to be watching has moved onto part two. 

You eyes are still scanning your text screen, waiting to see those three bouncing dots at the bottom left hand corner. 

He’s not the worst–– and at most, even if this turns out to be fake, this is just your Sunday morning entertainment. Nothing more and nothing less. These are just insignificant texts that will probably lead to a few lost days, or mediocre sex at best.

So, whatever, right?

-

MONDAY MORNING

BB: good morning! ☀️ (sun emoji)

You: well you sure get up early. Good morning 

BB: Haha, I like to start the week as soon as i can. Do you drink coffee or tea in the morning?

You: coffee most days. You?

BB: i drink tea, darling

You: yeah that’s probably better for you haha. Less expensive too.

BB: mhm, definitely cheaper if you come over and i make you a cup

You: wow, the flirting starts the second the sun is up, huh?

BB: what, still too early? 

You: never too early

BB: do you brew the coffee yourself?

You: some mornings. I usually pop into XX Cafe midday if i can.

BB: catch you there? 😂 (laughing emoji) nah, i’ll have to check the place out. I don’t know this area too well.

You: i guess if you can find me! I’m usually in and out pretty fast. Got places to be you know? Hm, did you just move here?

BB: yeah, i got settled in about a week ago

You: staying long?

BB: long enough

You: oh ha ha. Seriously not suspicious at all

BB: yeah I’m in town for a month or two. I’m getting away from work and stress for a minute

You: and you chose here?

BB: quiet enough for me. 😌 (smiley face) and you’re here so that’s a plus

You: relentless

BB: and nothing less.

-

MONDAY EVENING

BB: you haven’t seen that series? You’re crazy

You: whaaat! It’s not my thing. AND i don’t have time for it

BB: it’s a masterpiece, come on! Who doesn’t like laughing? It’s funny! You’ll like it

You: you’re gonna owe me a drink if don’t like it

BB: I’ll gladly buy you one right now if that’s what it takes to get you to watch it

You: ugh, i guess if you recommend it i can tryyyy…

BB: you won’t regret it!

You: ugh you are so annoying. What are you up to right now?

BB: reading emails and talking to you

You: haha what’s so important that you’re reading an email at like 11. Gotta turn on that “do not disturb” dude

BB: I can’t mute the work stuff, unfortunately

You: so if i called you over tonight you wouldn’t be able to? “Because of work?”

BB: you serious? I’m only taking serious offers right now

You: No! It’s monday. Can’t indulge you that early in the week

BB:  what a shame. I’d drop it in a heartbeat for you

You: Nice to know 

BB: I’ve got a feeling that I shouldn’t have told you that (laughing emoji)

You:  😈 (devil emoji)

-

TUESDAY MORNING

BB: good morning!

You: hey! I remembered I had some tea back at my apartment so… just wanted to let you know you had an impact on my day 🙄😊 (eye roll emoji and smiley face emoji)

BB: I could still make a better cup for you 😘 (kissy face emoji)

You: right. What do you have planned today?

BB: hmm, I’m heading out to the gym. Then I might explore the city a bit. Bump into me?

You: well, I don’t know if I could recognize you even if i wanted to

BB: you’ll recognize me

You: haha, okay? Wait, do I know you? –– if this is a prank… 

BB: it’s not! 

You: .. that wouldn’t be cool.

BB: it’s not a prank! There’s just a lot of things I can’t tell you just yet. It’d be a lot easier if we were able to meet up in person.

You: why?

BB: I’m pretty private. It’s really hard for me to just… share certain things with you. But I want to! SO badly! I just can’t send you a whole picture of my face. It’s complicated.

You: Sorry? I don’t get it.

BB: Ahhhh. This is going to sound so bad. I trust you, like as a person. But also I can’t trust you. If you meet me–– you’ll understand why. I’m sorry. 

You: Okay…? And you have to understand that this sounds absolutely batshit to me, right? Like it’s pretty hard to trust you like this. 

BB: yeah I know. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. But honestly, it’s nice to be able to talk to you like this and I hope we can continue to chat. I really do like you.

You: … That is really unfair.

BB: I know! I’m sorry. Give me another day or two–– i have a few things to figure out but, I SWEAR i’m not lying to you. I promise it’ll make sense soon

You: well, if you promise you’re not a creep….

BB: I’m not!

You: and that you’re not using me as a replacement for your ex

BB: I won’t!

You: you are SO lucky i’m patient

BB: and kind. And beautiful. And amazing.

You: you’re pushing it, blurry boy. I just need you to realize how unfair this is.

BB: I do. And I know. I’m sorry.

You: what are you looking for here? With me or with anyone you would have met from the app?

BB: a home away from home

You: yeah i read that in your bio. What does that mean?

BB: I’m looking for someone I can spend time with and trust with my whole heart

You: ha ha

BB: I’m serious. It’s hard to find.

You: you’re a real romantic, that’s for sure

-

TUESDAY EVENING

You: you have a DOG and you didn’t tell me?

BB: what, you’re not interested in the fact that I have younger twin brothers and another 8 years younger than me? ‘Always about Tessa

You: obviously! Send a pic!

BB: 

You: is this from right now?

BB: nah, something I took ages ago. I had to leave her back home with my family.

You: aww, that’s too bad.

BB:  would you come over if she were here?

You: Duh! And I guess you’d have to make me a cup.

BB: sounds lovely. Let’s make it a date

You: ha ha. You miss home?

BB: More than you know. I travel A LOT

You: well, call back often! They would be happy to know you miss them! Loneliness is not a great feeling.

BB: I do, all the time! And definitely not a good feeling. So, it’s really nice to talk to you. Thank you.

You: Sorry, I’m not a very great conversational partner. But still happy to hear that

BB: You are. You’re still here

You: You are too.

BB: You already mean a lot to me

You: Have you been in many relationships? (Or hookups idk)

BB: No, and not really. I’ve only been in a handful of long-term relationships

You: Interesting

BB: What?

You: Just wondering if you are really catching feelings for me

BB: Guilty. You?

You: I don’t think I know enough about you to catch anything. No offense 😬😅(cringe emoji, laughing emoji)

BB: Ha, no. I meant if you’ve been in many relationships?

You: Oh! Sorry. A few of either. Did long-term once. Didn’t work out, obviously–– so here I am. That’s that.

BB: Guess we both have a past to bury

You: Please don’t say anything about “burying yourself into my pussy to feel better”

BB: WHAT. I wasn’t even thinking about that. That’s all you 👀

You: Hey, you’ve been pretty quick all the other times, bud.

BB: If I tell you I want more than just sex, does that make you feel better?

You: It makes me think about the fact that you still want to have sex with me

BB: And I can’t deny that 😊 (smiley blushy face emoji)

-

WEDNESDAY MORNING:

BB: Good morning!

You: Morning! Little later than usual–– sleeping in?

BB: Yeah, since I can afford to. You replied quicker than usual. Were you waiting for me? 😉 (wink emoji)

You: Haha, you wish. I was already on my phone, stud.

BB: Right, right. I can tell you like to play hard to get

You: No I don’t!

BB: 😂 (laughing emoji)

You: I don’t!

BB: Wow, feels great to finally have something to hold over you 

You: I hate you 🙄 (eye roll emoji)

BB: Have a nice day, love 😊🌈(smiley face, rainbow emoji)

-

PING! 

“BB? Who is bb?” Liza asks you on Wednesday evening after seeing a notification pop up on your phone. She grabs it off the sticky cafe table and looks at you with her pretty head tilted.

Oh––

You wiggle your jaw, and raise your brows,

 “No one important.” 

You take your phone back and open the message discreetly. It’s nothing special, you’re sure, but you have to look.

BB: so have you seen the last episode yet????? Hello??

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone!” She pleads, putting down the drink in her hands. You were at the mall, idly walking and taking a short break. She looks at you pointedly, eyes darting around your face for any spot of weakness, as she quietly whines, “You didn’t tell us anything about this…”

“It’s because I’m not––”  You offer, nodding. You flip your phone upside down as the message lights up again. “–– seeing anyone.”

She gives you a squinted look of total disbelief.

You’ve been messaging “Blurry Boy” nonstop for the past few days. First you talked about nothing, and now you’re asking each other about how your day was going and what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing later. 

You always find something. Your phone is constantly by your side, sound on.

And there’s a layer of real time now, now that you’ve gotten to know him and his schedule better.

You learn that he has his own cute dog name Tessa and that his family fosters dogs back home, and that he’s the oldest, with twin brothers and a younger one he’s been trying desperately to relate to. You find out that his favorite color is black and that he’s in deep shit for stealing his best friend’s fav hoodie. All of this makes him feel like someone you know, someone you could call a friend.

He feels like more than just some guy you’ve talked to waaaay too long from Tinder.

And what’s worse, is that he knows certain things about you too. He knows that you don’t like sleeping in the dark and that you’re borderline addicted to iced coffee. That you like rewatching old romcoms and classic spooky movies… That your back hurts from work and that you have a fucking dentist appointment on Thursday. 

You know a lot more about each other than less. And that’s kinda really fucking weird.

“You’re always smiling at your phone,” Liza says flatly, picking her drink back up to take a long and loud sip. Major side-eye. “‘Fess up.”

“No, I’m not!” You say through your teeth, trying to not smile. But under her stare you melt and crack under pressure.

You keep telling yourself that you’ll stop replying–– that he’s super sus and this isn’t going anywhere. But… you just keep texting him back.

“It’s nothing, seriously.”

“Let me see,” she pouts. “Pleeeease.” She flaps her hands at you, wriggling her fingers.

“No!”

Even though you know that it’s a losing game with her, you try to put up a fight, turning away and holding your phone tightly. You have onlookers now from the squealing, kicking and creaking chairs.

You give in after a minute.

You hand your phone in defeat as you readjust yourselves. You clear your throat.

“Okay, okay. But this is like, not serious at all, okay.” You rationalize as you show her the pictures you had screenshot and saved from him. “I barely know him.”

Barely! You’ve chanted that in your head over and over. Not enough to know if you want to get to know him, or what to drop him. That’s the purgatory you’ve been living in.

Liza is uncharacteristically quiet as she scrolls up and down the chats and flips through the pictures. Her hair covers whatever expression she’s making.

That makes you nervous, and you start babbling.

“Yeah, I mean. I don’t think he’s real or anything–– It’s just for fun and it’s whatever. I don’t even care.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

She freezes on a picture of him. The one where you can see a part of his smile and a crinkled eye. She zooms in and pauses again.

?

“Babe?” Her voice is cautious and slow. God. You don’t want to hear what she has to say next with this tone of voice…

“Hm?” You attempt to perk up, hiding the fact that you just gulped with nerves. It feels like you’re holding something sour in your mouth.

I don’t like this...

“So, he seems like a super nice guy and all but…” She speaks gingerly and wide eyed.

“But what?” You feel yourself recoil. 

As much as you talk a big game… it would still hurt to have this illusion shattered. This self-inflicted fantasy. You don’t want her to keep going. 

But you can guess what’s coming next.

...

“I… I think he’s using pictures of Tom Holland.”

…

…

…

Wait…...

What?!

-

A.N: WAH! she’s back!! well, as much as she can be. haha i know i have a million things always running at the same time but... i really will just ride the wave of inspiration as it comes.... that’s all i can do. anyway, hope you like this series! it’s going to be an exploration of starting new relationships in your young adulthood–– and how to handle be “The one” after “The One.” it’ll be a good time.

Thank you guys for reading! Please like, comment and reblog :) You’re all amazing. 

Much Love,

Madmadmilk 💫

** i do NOT keep up with a taglist. track #one after the one to keep up with the updates, or check out my masterlist! thanks! 

#WAH #i'm laughing at the photos bro lol i might change them but i don't have time right now hahahaha #one after the one #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland reader #tom holland you #tom holland fics #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland writing #tom holland story #madmadmilk #OATO

[lukneetoonz]

LITTLE GODDESS PART III

——————————————————————————-

Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Flirting, cussing, mentions of sexual frustration, overalls nothing bad.

Word Count: 3,446

A/N: Longer chapter, I'm hoping to make the rest of the chapters this long. Sorry if this one isn’t the best, I'm not feeling too well lately… but anyways I had fun writing this one. I’m excited for the party chapter!

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

——————————————————————————-

To say the end of the tour was awkward, would be an understatement. You didn’t know who that woman was, and you didn’t have any right to ask. But one thing was clear, she came to show that aizawa was her marked territory. Did things seem weird between them? Yes, but you’ve heard of the big threes many affairs and mistresses so it wouldn’t surprise you if she was one of them, maybe Aizawa’s favorite mistress. It was stupid that your heart even ached slightly at that thought when you’d just met the man.

“Ah, so how was the tour you two?” You didn’t realize you were back in front of Aizawa’s office until Hitoshi had spoken, looking up as you met his purple eyes that matched his lazy smirk. “So how do you like your new place of work beautiful? Is it everything you hoped it to be?” He mused, his hand reaching your hair and twirling a piece, making you blush and your mouth run dry as an angry king stood next to the both of you, glaring at his right hand man.

“Ahem. Hitoshi this is a place of business, not romance. Keep your hands to yourself will you?” The man's monotone voice was laced with jealousy, making Hitoshi’s grin wider, “I never hear you say that when Emi is in your office…” It was that woman’s name again… so they are a thing, looking away, you avoided the gazes of the men not realizing they both had challenging glares directed at each other. “Anyways, me and Y/N have some paperwork to fill out, but thank you for taking her on the tour aizawa.”

Before either you or Aizawa could argue, Hitoshi fizzed You away to his office and he dragged his feet to the couch and flopped down, a relaxing groan releasing from his mouth. “You can relax Y/N. I can tell we are gonna be great friends in the future…” Hitoshi’s voice was smug that matched his knowing smirk, eyes closing. “Now, I'm taking a nap, do as you please.”

*•*

This day was interesting so far, and it was only lunch. You had long left the purple haired man's office and figured it wouldn’t be bad to walk around, start to remember your way better. The only time you stopped was when you heard your stomach growl, your lips pursing as you sighed, “fuck… where was the café?” You started scrambling around, not knowing where to go, slightly freaking out.

“Yo! You lost pretty lady?!” A loud voice called out to you, making you whip around as you blushed and focused on the blonde haired man. “Uh, Yeah… I’m kinda new around here and I just want to find a place to eat.” The lanky Male came up to you and threw his arm over your shoulder, obviously not afraid of boundaries. “Well never fair, since your golden Olympian Male is here!” Suddenly it clicked and your eyes went wide, this must be the one they call Apollo…

Nodding you laughed it off, he sure does love himself doesn't he? “May I ask what you are doing here in the underworld? You are an Olympian that has nothing to do with the underworld.” The golden haired man laughed, a smile on his face. “Right you are gorgeous, but it so happens that me and the king himself are best friends! We are practically brothers!” Aizawa… and this man… practically brothers? You couldn’t believe it.

“Hizashi What did I tell you about coming here unannounced?” A familiar deep voice boomed through the space, making you blush and the man beside you smile brighter than before. Turning around faster than you can blink, he opened his arms for aizawa, “Aizawa! You know that if I call you’d say no, plus you love my company, admit it!” A giggle passed your lips as you looked at them, they completely contrasted one another and even thinking about their dynamic made you smile.

Aizawa’s eyes landed on you in shock and Hizashi turned to face you, “By the way Shouta, how come you didn’t tell me you hired someone as pretty as this one! I'd pay her to just take a drive-” Hizashi couldn't even finish the sentence when he shuddered by Aizawa’s cold and deadly stare. You didn’t even see it since you looked at the ground trying to hide your flustering face, moving a stray hair behind your ear, you smiled. “Well- thank you very much for your compliment…”

Your voice had Aizawa staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he clenched his jaw and looked away. Of course you’d have every god pining after you, why would he think he’d even have a small chance? The desperate stare did not go unnoticed by Hizashi and the wheels started turning in his head, a devious little smile on his face, “You know, I’m throwing a party tomorrow, you should come and get to know the rest of the gods.”

Nodding, a smile made its way onto your face. “Really? I’ve never been invited to anything like that before… thank you. I’m Y/N, I forgot to introduce myself.” A shy blush spread on your cheeks as aizawa could feel anger bubbling in him, he was never one for parties, but now he was… Hizashi smiled at you, ruffling your hair, “It’s gonna be fun. I’m sure everyone will love you, especially if Aizawa here seems to like your presence too.”

Head tilting with confused eyes, you didn’t understand. The king had just been showing you his grace since you were a new employee… right? Aizawa was practically glowing red before he dragged a laughing Hizashi off, “See y’a tomorrow Y/N!!” You waved him goodbye with a smile, still lost on where to eat…

*•*

As fast as the day came, it went. Going home, Izuku filled the air by asking you questions nonstop, but of course you answered everyone. The only thing on your mind however, was the party you were invited to. “Father, what’s your opinion on Hizashi?” Your voice was quiet but the question was loud as Izuku stopped in his tracks to eye you up and down with careful eyes, almost trying to check if you were harmed in any way shape or form.

“Did he hurt you? How do you know him? What happened, and you better tell me everything” His worried questions made you laugh as you stopped and smiled, “Nothing happened, I was just invited to his party tomorrow and I wanted to know your opinion on him.” You simply shrugged, making the green haired man sigh in relief before he took in your words and went wide eyed. “Party?!! Tomorrow!? Invited?!”

Honestly, Izuku was finding it hard to breathe as he clutched his chest. His reaction made you laugh as you hugged the man that swore to protect you with his life. “Father- calm down! We only met because I walked around by myself to get a feel of the place… it’s no big deal, I thought he was very nice.” The shrug of your shoulders matched your nonchalant tone, making Izuku feel many things. “Y/N, promise me that you’ll be safe, please.”

Nodding you looked at your father as you stepped into your house, “Does this mean I can go?” Izuku smiled with a sigh, “I can’t really stop you since you’re an adult… I just know that you are my stars and your mother is my moon. Without either of you I am nothing.” You smiled softly as you kissed your father's cheek, nodding and going to the kitchen, Uraraka already there making tea. “Hi momma, how was your day?” You greeted your mother with a kiss on the cheek and she smiled softly, looking at you with bright eyes.

“My little star! How was your first day? I hope Aizawa was kind…” Just the mention of his name made you blush as you looked away with a shy smile. “The king was very kind… but I’m sure it was just because I’m new.” As you ended your sentence you chuckled, making your mother smile. “Oh really? Well I’m glad to hear you had a nice time”

(E/C) eyes going wide, your cheeks heated up, “Mother! It wasn’t like that!! I swear… anyways I was invited to Hizashi’s party tomorrow” Your news made Uraraka smirk as she turned to you and handed you a glass of tea “Oh? I’m sure your father wasn’t happy about that…” The grin that made its way onto your face confirmed her answer, “He May not have been, but I still can go.” Nodding, Uraraka took a sip of her drink and looked at you with a sly smile, “Well I guess we should go shopping before then huh?”

*•*

The next day

As you walked into work, you couldn’t help but recheck your attire every minute. Why did you want to look so good? It wouldn’t matter in the long run… he wouldn’t see you in the same way. Groaning you rubbed your face as you walked through the menacing doors. You can do this, all you have to do is keep the souls in check… and not fall in love.

“You look troubled chickadee, something I can help you with?” An arm wrapped around you as you looked to your side to be met with familiar golden eyes, “I’m just- nervous for my first real day of work…” Keigo laughed as he smirked at you, “Awh, don’t be worried… if you want we can have lunch together” A devilish wink was sent your way making you blush, “Y-you don’t have too..” Keigo laughed, ruffling your hair as he tsked playfully.

“Psh, I want too. Plus I heard that you’re going to Hizashi’s party tonight… guess I’ll be seeing you there chickadee.” Keigo lowered his head to whisper in your hair and you squeaked and chuckled, looking at him with questioning eyes. “Are you flirting with me?” your voice came out shakey as you played with your fingers, Keigo laughed and poked your nose. “I can admit that I am since your father ain’t here…”

“Well quit it, Keigo. You wasting time makes me wonder why I pay you.” A deep voice interrupted your interaction and you snapped your eyes to meet glowing red ones, an automatic shiver going down your spine as you stared with parted lips. You have never been more turned on than seeing Aizawa look like this. Keigo rolled his eyes and took a step away from you, looking at Aizawa with an unamused look. “I just clocked in, get off my ass and get the stick out of yours.”

The statement only made Aizawa angrier as he tsked, but before he did anything, his eyes glanced at you and he calmed down. Taking a deep breath in, he glared at the red winged god, “You have 3 seconds to leave before I rip your wings out of your back.” Keigo held his glare for as long as he could before turning to you and winking, flying off. You turned to aizawa and gulped, feeling horrible that you were wasting company time. “I’m sorry about that, I’ll get to work right away… I don’t want to waste anymore time”

Aizawa’s eyes softened looking at you, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and he sighed as he gulped, “Don’t apologize little goddess… Keigo was acting wrongly, he should be apologizing.” His words, his touch, gods his everything made you want to melt as butterflies soared in your stomach. Nodding you met his eyes and smiled softly, “I-I wanted to ask yesterday, but I didn’t get the chance… are you going to Hizashi’s party?” Biting your plump lip, (e/c) doe eyes met Aizawa and the god cursed under his breath as he forced himself to look away.

“Ahem- I- yes. I’ll be there.” Why did he say he was going? Simple; you asked and you were also going. Stupid Aizawa… stupid stupid Aizawa. As he raked your face to see any type of reaction, he couldn’t place just one emotion as you slightly blushed and smiled big, nodding as you had bright eyes that looked at him. “Good… I'm glad you’re going to be there” The shock that ran through the raven haired man's body was evident as he sucked in a breath, looking at you to say you were kidding, but you never did.

“W-well… I’ll see you tonight Aizawa.” The distance you were creating caught his attention and he once again reached for you with wide eyes, “Shouta… you can call me shouta.” Shouta… his name alone was gorgeous. You nodded and moved your hand into his, giving it a friendly squeeze, “okay… shouta.” Finally You left to go where you were needed, leaving a speechless king in your wake, this wasn’t Nemuri, or her son Denki. This was him, his heart, fucking with him.

*•*

As you walked to lunch, you couldn’t help but feel slightly sad that the god you were eating with had golden locks and not black. Of course you knew that your parents fell in love within two days and got married on the third, that’s a common thing with gods and goddesses. But the thought alone scared you, how could you fall for someone you didn’t even know? Maybe your friend Denki was pulling a prank on you… he always did say that you needed to get laid so he wouldn’t have to smell your sexual frustration no matter how far away he was…

A groan left your lips as you went and grabbed some food from a restaurant in the food court, sitting down at the table that had the winged god, and the purple haired one…. along with the ash blonde? What the hell? “Am I interrupting something?” You regretted even speaking because all attention was immediately turned to you, making you look away nervously. “I see you finally made it chickadee… I’m sorry about these two, who rudely invited themselves.” Golden eyes glared at the other two men when Keigo finished talking, making you even more confused.

“Listen gorgeous, I just figured you wouldn’t want to be alone with chicken boy here for an hour alone, so I decided to be your Prince Charming” Hitoshi decided to speak as he smirked at you, leaning casually on his palm, eyes raking your body. Katsuki let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes, “Dumbasses. Both of you.” Hitoshi’s smirk turned devilish as he turned to Katsuki, “Oh? Then enlighten us on why you’re here…” Katsuki clenched his jaw as he huffed and glared at Hitoshi, “I- just figured I’d get to know Y/N… it’s the smart thing to do since she could get in the way with my work.”

Tilting your head, you looked at all of them like they were crazy. That was until a cute little blonde came up, giggling with mischief as she latched her arm with yours and tilted her head at the boys. “They’re trying to court you… isn’t it adorable! Could you imagine all of them doing your dirty work as you just relaxed? I wish I would get courted like this…” The blonde sighed and sat down, resting her head on her palms with a pout and you smiled at her, while Katsuki pushed her off a seat in disgust.

“We didn’t sit here for you to come and sit with us, Toga. So find somewhere else. Or someone else to bother.” His words were harsh as she pouted and you slightly pouted too, already liking her. “Well… since I don’t want to be courted, I’d much rather sit with Toga… shall we?” You smiled at the goddess and she giggled with glee and yanked on your hand, dragging you away, leaving furious gods in your wake. Both you laughed as you went and sat down, Toga somehow got a milkshake and was sipping on it as she looked at you with a devious look.

“So, new blood… what’s it like to have gods falling at your feet? I’m sure if you stubbed your toe, they’d all come crawling with gifts and first aid kits.” Her words made you blush as you stared at your food, “I didn’t even realize until you just told me… why would they want me? I’m just an immature goddess.” Toga laughed and poked your nose, “Thats why, because you don’t know anything about them, yet. You’re trusting, and they can practically smell that. Trust me when I say none of these gods are up to no good.” Oh how she sounded like your father… but maybe it’s because your father was right, and so was she.

“Maybe… anyway, I don’t mean to sound rude but you’re a goddess aren’t you? What do you do around here?” You were curious to know what she did because you’ve only seen Gods here, no goddesses. “You might know by the name Styx, which the mortals really did give me a delicious name didn’t they?” Your eyes went wide in realisation as you blushed, “oh my gods! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you! I’m so sorry” Toga giggled as she smiled at you, leaning on her palms.

“Eh don’t worry about it new blood… you can owe me back by telling me why you aren’t interested in being courted.” Her bluntness made you blush as you played with your food, “Well… I just- I’d want to be pursued by the right man.. not just any guy, you know? If I find the right guy, I’d welcome it” Toga didn’t talk for a couple seconds as she took in the sight of you, before her face lit up in a teasing grin. “You already found someone didn’t you- AND he works here, doesn’t he?!” She gasped, bringing her hands to her face as you hid your own.

“Please, drop it… I don’t want- I don’t know what I want!” Toga laughed as she leaned onto the table, continuing to read you. Like how your eyes would blink and try to avoid looking at a place for too long, and how your body seemed extremely relaxed in the moment, despite the conversation. She knew, of course she knew. Toga could figure these things out easily, and the flint in her eyes gave it away she knew as she grabbed your cheeks and pulled you closer. “You like them powerful, don't you? That’s okay, if I was you I would too.”

You choked on your food as you looked her in her eyes sighing, “Please it’s really nothing, just don’t say anything… okay?” Toga giggled before nodding, “Okay, but you’re no fun new blood! Just be glad I like you.” Nodding, You pouted and looked at the time, “I’m going to a party tonight that he’ll be at… do you want to come with me?” Toga practically lit up like a Christmas tree as she nodded and stood up, “Yes! Oh this will be so much fun! I’ll be your wing woman and we will get you any guy you want!” Once again you blushed as you looked away, feeling your heartbeat in your chest.

“I don’t want just any guy…” you sighed out, leaning your head on the table. Toga stared at you and she already knew what she was going to do tonight before she faked a pout on her own face and pat your head, “Don’t worry Y/N…. If it’s meant to be then the fates will make sure it happens. Anyway, what’s the harm in a little fun? You are young…” Shrugging, you looked away and thought for a second. “Maybe you’re right… maybe I should let loose tonight. Then finally I won’t have to feel like this cause it’s weird.” Toga hid her grin and nodded, “Oh, trust me new blood, you’ll have a blast tonight.”

——————————————————————————-

Taglist; @present-mel @maya-ngpirit @a-match-into-themoon @nhievyenne @negansnumberonewifie @darkqueenhyde @minfani @creolepier @lhcartoonist @fairy-inthegarden @taylor----wonderland @the-british-koala @leeeah-loooser @vinaios

#mha fanfiction #mha imagines #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa fanfiction #shoto aizawa #hawks imagine #mha hawks #mha shinsou #shinsou imagine #shinsou hitoshi #littlegoddessfic

[lesetoilesfous]

"when was the last time you ate something?" for Merrill/Isabela :-)

I love this ship SO much, thank you so much for giving me excuses to write these lovely girlfriends

(If you want me to write you a dragon age ficlet, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Meribela

Characters: Isabela, Merrill

Tags: Modern AU, Magic still exists, the author takes liberties, Merrill is neurodivergent

Rating: Teen and Up

If Isabela ever met the creature responsible for inventing Merrill’s blighted eluvian, she had every intention of ensuring that their death was slow, humiliating and painful. Sometimes she daydreams about it. When she’s bored mostly, but occasionally - now, for instance - when she’s worried. Her partner has clearly neither slept nor showered in days, judging by the smell. Her eyes are wide and bright with the kind of manic focus she only develops when left unattended, without someone or something to remind her to eat and drink. Merrill tended not to see such things as necessities when she was quite certain that she had better things to do. 

Not for the first time, Isabela kicks herself for accepting Hawke’s invitation to the Wounded Coast. It was meant to be a few days of sun, surf and sleeping under the stars. It had turned into the hard, draining work of helping Anders smuggle mages out of Kirkwall. Which Isabela agreed with, in principle. But Anders and Hawke were not the only people who needed her.

“When was the last time you ate, kitten?” Isabela says the words as calmly as she can. It’s not intended as an accusation. Merrill’s brain isn’t wired to remind her of these things, just like Isabela’s brain isn’t wired to think much before she does stupid, dangerous things like stealing the Tome of Koslun. They all have their flaws.

Merrill waves her off with a quick movement of one small hand. “That’s not important. I’m so close Isabela. It’s like...like I can see it. A massive network, spreading across the continent, the very fabric of the Fade itself. It’s not just for communication - you can, I think you can walk on it. I just need to figure out how to open the door.”

Merrill speaks more and more quickly as she goes, and Isabela thinks for one terrible moment that she’s going to lose her: that she’s going to step off the cliff-edge of discovery on which she’s standing and be lost to the abyss, like so many ill-fated elvhen explorers before her. But then Merrill’s chest heaves, and she blinks, and her eyes - too dilated, even in the dark - seem to focus on Isabela properly for the first time since she’d come home. (To find cups and glasses and rubbish scattered across every surface amidst snowdrifts of cheap notepads and sticky notes). 

“How was the beach?”

Isabela shakes her head, and steps a little closer, catching Merrill’s hands easily in her own and pressing them together. Her fingers are always so cold. Isabela squeezes Merrill’s hands, gently, and the corner of Merrill’s mouth lifts in a small, shy smile as she blushes. But then her eyes catch on Isabela’s temple and she frowns, pulling her hands free to brush the scabbed cut on Isabela’s forehead. (After several skirmishes, Anders’ mana had been depleted, and Isabela had insisted he leave this. She’d certainly had worse.)

“What’s this?”

Isabela turns her head to press a kiss to the heel of Merrill’s cool, soft palm. “It’s nothing, lover.”

Merrill’s frown doesn’t fade. Her fingers unfold and press very gently against Isabela’s skin, and Isabela feels the faint electric prickle of her magic before the cut knits itself back together. Merrill’s dark green eyes are knowing when she meets Isabela’s. “Anders’ railroad is still going, then?”

Isabela shrugs, pulling away from her to walk into their tiny kitchen (and what kind of madness was this? Living with her lover, trying to build a home together? Her sixteen year old self would laugh in her face.) Isabela pulls down a glass and a bottle of rum, tossing some ice into the glass before picking up a heavy plastic bottle of ginger ale from the side. She pours and mixes the drink, before turning to lean against the counter and face her partner.

“Do we have any food?”

Merrill glances guiltily at the fridge, where it stands and hums with a very faint vibration of electricity. She looks back at Isabela and bites her lip, folding one arm behind her back to hold the other as she adjusts her weight. “What do you want me to say?”

Isabela is very tired. She drinks, and lets the sweet fizz of rum and ginger wash down her throat before she sets down her glass. She opens her arms, and Merrill hesitates for a moment before stepping into her embrace, turning her cheek against Isabela’s shoulder whilst Isabela gently strokes her hair, kissing her forehead. “I’m not angry with you, kitten.” Isabela sighs, and feels the weight of it fall from her chest as she does so. “I just worry about you. That’s all.”

Merrill bites the inside of her cheek, frowning at a pile of papers on the counter for a moment before seeming to make some decision. She lifts her narrow, pointed chin and gives Isabela a small, anxious smile, cheeks flushing with colour. “Thank you. I’m sorry I make it so difficult.”

Isabela is already shaking her head, taking her partner by the shoulders and gently holding her at arms length. Outside, cars roar like waves down the road and into the night. Isabela waits until Merrill meets her eyes. “You don’t make things difficult.” Merrill gives her a look of disbelief, and Isabela shrugs, offering her half a smile. “Or if you do, so does everyone. We’re people, love. People are difficult. But for what it’s worth, I like living with you.” Isabela pauses, then, and lifts a hand to push some of Merrill’s thick, choppy hair back from her forehead, eyes running over the curving lines of her vallaslin. “That includes the three-day research binges. And before you ask, no, I don’t understand it either. Chalk it down to chemicals, I suppose.” Merrill gives her a small smile then, and something in Isabela’s chest aches. “That’s my girl.”

She squeezes Merrill’s shoulders once more before letting go, and takes another quick sip of her rum before getting out her phone. “Now, pizza or -” Merrill’s nose wrinkles, and Isabela laughs. “Right, cheese bad. Chinese it is then.”

Merrill grins, and Isabela dials the store and gives their order whilst Merrill excavates the sofa from her research notes. Once she’s done, Isabela picks up her drink and drops heavily onto the cheap, old, musty cushions, setting her glass on the table by the armrest and pulling Merrill into her lap. Merrill’s head falls against her breast, and Isabela runs her fingers gently through her hair. 

“Now then,” Isabela murmurs, dropping a kiss to her lover’s head, “Tell me about the eluvian.”

They fall asleep on the sofa together, surrounded by cartons and disposable chopsticks, in a tangle of limbs and clothes in need of a wash. Isabela wouldn’t have it any other way.

#dadwc #da2 #isabela #merrill #meribela #cartadwarfwithaheartofgold

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Glass Coughs

(Apart of the possible mini series where Anna moves in with the ladies in waiting)

TW: Themes of depression, implied self harm

———————

Some days, Anna knows, Bessie can’t get up.

Bessie, who’s usually so headstrong, strong, spitfire, can’t get up some days.

She will lie in bed and just…lay on her side, not looking at anything but the sheets around her and the pillow next to her, curled up in a small ball and wide awake but unable to lift her head. She just stares and stares and stares and sometimes it looks like she’s dead and Anna wonders if that’s what she’s going for.

A corpse. That’s what Bessie looks like.

Anna recognizes it easily enough, now, when it comes, at least when it’s this bad, and knows what to expect. She stays in bed a little longer herself, about half an hour or so, under the covers, making sure to keep close but not quite enough to be touching. Bessie doesn’t like to be crowded, not even by her, on days like this. She’ll flinch away and snap and scratch, and that jars her out of her trance, but it leaves her bristled and in shock for hours. Sometimes she breaks mirrors. Sometimes she pulls her hair out. Sometimes she scratches Maria across the face and leaves a bright red scar across her left eye that lingers for a month because the drummer stepped a little too close to her.

When something like that happens, the mental image of “corpse” is quickly replaced with “bear”. Or maybe her favorite animal, a Tasmanian devil.

(It’s funny that a Tasmanian devil was her favorite animal. Given that the females were trapped in dens by males during mating season and weren’t allowed to leave until pregnancy was ensured.)

Anna makes sure to hum a little, even if it’s a bit off-key sometimes. It helps, Bessie told her once- helps her not get trapped in her thoughts too deeply.

Anna knows that after an hour and a bit, she won’t be helping anymore and she has to get out of bed or Bessie will feel guilty about it later, even if she won’t say anything. She knows not to rip off the sheets and probe her into getting up like He used to. She knows that, even though Bessie might not respond, she still appreciates the light kiss on her cheek and Anna talking to her idly as she gets dressed as if she is. Sometimes, if Anna is lucky, Bessie will manage a small, short smile in response.

By the time Anna is in the kitchen, it will probably be around 10:30. She’s making her breakfast in the hopes that the smell of fried eggs and bacon will manage to get Bessie out of bed. It’s worked twice before, so you never know, and she always makes extra.

She knows not to try bringing a plate to Bessie, though, because that makes Bessie feel guilty too, and she might leave it and let it grow cold before she can get up which also doesn’t help. And she knows not to force Bessie out of bed like that either.

Sometimes, she knows, she just has to rest.

But she also knows that sometimes just leaving her be is worse, makes the heaviness and emptiness grow, that Bessie, sometimes, needs a hand, even when she doesn’t say so (especially then.) Usually, around 2 or 2:30 is when Anna starts to get really worried.

She eats what she can of breakfast before leaving it to the other ladies in waiting to finish, which they will, of course. Then she goes out shopping to try and clear her head- thank god there was no show today. She didn’t want Bessie to force herself to perform, especially when a few of the songs make her uneasy and how she hates hearing about Him and how They get chances to be seen and loved but she couldn’t.

(Those thoughts scratched and scratched and scratched at Bessie’s mind and that just fed the guilt that held her by the throat. Sometimes Anna worries about it becoming to much and it completely hounds her until she’s nothing but pale strips of mangled flesh and red blood and pink shredded muscle and crimson gore.)

By the time she’s back, she has a small carrier bag of goods and it’s around 1:30. Anna drops off most of the stuff in the dining room, hearing Maggie and Maria going to snoop as they do, and hurries off to check on her girlfriend, knocking three times before entering the bedroom.

“Hey,” She says, taking off her jacket. “I was just out shopping.”

Bessie is still in bed, cocooned in the covers, but she does look up blearily from lying face-down, so Anna counts it as a little win.

“I bought a bunch of stuff,” She continues, coming to sit at the foot of the bed. “Pastries, obviously. I feel like Maggie keeps finishing them for some reason. More toilet roll. Oranges. Milk. Hot chocolate powder.”

It’s a pretty ordinary list, nothing exciting to be honest, but, eventually, Bessie’s head emerges fully and she blinks before her dull, but beautiful blue eyes finally focus on Anna.

“There’s my pretty princess,” Anna coos, smiling lovingly. She so badly wanted to kiss Bessie soft, pale lips or caress her flushed cheeks or at least stroke her unruly hair, but she knew better than to touch during moments like this. “How are you feeling?”

Bessie’s eyes move from Anna’s gaze to the crumpled blankets she’s been laying under all day. Her hands clench in the fabric and Anna knows she’s getting worked up with guilt.

“Hey, hey,” Anna scoots closer and dares to brush Bessie’s knuckles. “It’s alright. You’re okay.”

Bessie’s eyes squint slightly, eyebrows lowering and knitting together like dark thunder clouds. She stays rooted in that position for a long time and Anna finally stands up and began to go through her drawers.

“Think you can switch shirts for me?” Anna asks. “You’ve been wearing that one for three days now.”

Bessie looked down at her shirt, which was soaked with her own sadness. It was just a plain grey piece of fabric, yet it hid so much.

“Come on, baby,” Anna murmurs, walking back over. She has a shirt slung over her arm- Bessie can’t really read what it says, she just knows it’s purple. “Then you can go back to sleeping.”

Bessie didn’t move for a moment, then nodded ever so slightly and clambered out of the bed. She went for the door for some reason and Anna understood what she was doing.

Bessie is still quiet when she gets up, finally, trailing behind Anna a little like a ghost, though Anna doesn’t mind, certainly not when Bessie silently tugs at her sleeve and they hold hands on the short trek to the bathroom.

As the bathtub fills with nice, hot water, Anna shows Bessie an assortment of bath bombs she had indulgently bought while out on the shops. She mused about some that Kitty had liked and recommended back when she was living with the queens, but quickly shut her mouth. Bessie didn’t like when she brought up her past residence when she was like this- it was another thing among many that made her feel terribly guilty.

However, when she turned to see if Bessie has finally succumbed to that overbearing sensation thanks to her stupid comment, she just found her girlfriend sitting on the toilet seat, studying a galaxy themed bath bomb. It black on the outside but all rainbows and glitter on the inside.

Just like Bessie, Anna thinks privately.

“Good pick,” Anna smiles.

Bessie just barely managed a crack of her own smile.

The bath is hot, and both of them watch as the bath bomb is dropped in and begins to fizz, tiny bubbles of color rising up and gathering into a frothy foam and staining the water pink and purple and midnight blue, sparkles of gold suspended throughout the multicolored mess.

Anna helps Bessie get undressed and in the tub before going to fetch her a cup of tea and some toast, too, because she hasn’t eaten all day, even though she knows Bessie probably still doesn’t feel hungry.

When she returns, Bessie is just staring dejectedly at the whorls of color water encompassing the bottom half of her body. Silent tears are dripping down her cheeks but she doesn’t make a sound- no sniffles, no gulps of air, no whimpers. Not even her shoulders were shaking.

Even with the dark colors dyeing the water, there’s definitely a red tint that wasn’t there before. Anna sees it, but doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Hey, princess,” Anna purrs. She sat down beside the bathtub, making sure to keep her gaze up. Bessie was finally starting to let her keep her eyes open when she was naked and she really didn’t want to lose that privilege. “I made some tea. It’s your favorite. The raspberry kind.”

Bessie nodded. She lifted one hand and wiped her cheeks.

“Also some toast.”

God, she wanted Bessie to eat so badly. The way her ribs were poking out of her flesh was absolutely worrying. No fault of the bassist’s- it was the lasting effects of dying from the white plague.

(She still remembered watching as Bessie grew thinner and thinner the days she worked as her lady in waiting. She remembered how very pale and delirious she was. How she coughed blood all over her sewing station.)

(They say when she died she wasn’t even ninety pounds.)

Bessie nodded again. Her eyes are still cast down. She takes a sip of the tea and then just holds it in her hands, staring down into the saucer of dark liquid.

“I’m going to wash your hair, alright?” Anna says. “Is that okay?”

Bessie placed the mug back on the toilet seat and nodded.

“Take a deep breath, my darling. I’m going to dunk you under really quick.”

Bessie obeyed. Anna caught a glimpse of a fresh cut on her sunken in, already-scathed stomach when she gently presses her back into the water.

Now she know what the lump against her knee under the fuzzy shower mat was.

Bessie inhales sharply, almost gasping when she’s brought back up. Her eyes are wide for a moment before dulling back down. Anna assures her she’s alright.

Anna began to massage coconut-smelling shampoo into her girlfriend’s messy, greasy hair. She gently raked her nails against her scalp, something Bessie usually enjoyed when they would bathe together. It seemed to help some, as Bessie was definitely pressing her head into her hands. She smiled softly.

“Soap isn’t getting in your pretty eyes, right?”

Bessie nodded.

“Good.” Anna pressed a quick kiss to the back of her girlfriend’s neck, causing Bessie to shudder slightly. “I’m going to put you back under now, alright?”

Another silent nod.

Fifteen more minutes are spent in the bathroom. Anna talks softly to Bessie, grounding her. She washes her hair and towels down her body with a rag and some soap, then helps her out of the bathtub and into fresh clothes. The cut has stopped bleeding when she glanced at it, luckily.

“Anna,”

The word is so soft, so weak, so strangled.

“Yes, darling?” Anna gently cups Bessie’s cheeks. “I’m right here.”

Bessie’s hands are shaking when she grips Anna’s sleeves. Tears are rolling down her face again.

“I love you,” She croaks. She’s blushing because that phrase will never fail to make her flustered. “I love you so much...”

“Oh, baby...” Anna wrapped Bessie up securely in her arms and began to sway her gently. “I love you, too, princess. I love you so so so much. And I will never stop loving you. Ever.”

Bessie hiccuped weakly. Despite being in bed all day, it was clear she was exhausted. Probably from holding everything in for so long.

“P-promise?” She chokes out.

Anna didn’t even hesitate.

“I promise.”

Some days, Anna knows, Bessie can’t get up, and that’s okay.

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical #bessie on the bass #anna of cleves #banna #bessie x cleves #anna moves in #ill call it that #tw: depression #tw: self harm

[cobieeliseforsh]

I'm getting pretty annoyed with the amount of bullshit in the media right now. I just read an article about the "antisemitic" conspiracy theory Qanon. Calling Qanon antisemitic is like calling the KKK a group opposed to the career of Will Smith - technically true, but clearly a small subsection of a greater whole.

So, to remedy this...

COBIE'S FRUSTRATED GUIDE TO QANON FROM SOMEONE WHO LOVES CONSPIRACY THEORIES AND WISHES THIS ONE WOULD FUCK OFF BECAUSE IT IS BORING AS SHIT BUT NOT FIZZING WITH ENERGY, EVEN ON A MOLECULAR LEVEL, BECAUSE IT IS A DUMB AND LAZY REHASH FROM THE 80S OR EARLIER!

PART 1: DA FUCQ IS QANON?

Qanon is a grooming organisation for the Christian Far Right Death Cult that has held the Republican party in its sweaty hands since the ascent of Reagan in the 1980s. They believe in some bullshit I won't reprint here because I have no intention of spreading their ideology, but if you've heard of the Satanic panic, this is Satanic Panic 2: Now With Pizza!

Qanon is, by definition of their own supporters attacks on Muslim terrorism, a terrorist organisation. And, though it seems impossible, they're stupidier than ISIS ever were, because at least there was some twisted logic behind ISIS: poor young men fighting revolutionary wars against what they see as corrupt and immoral authorities and ideologies is nothing new. Qanon is literally the powerful declaring war on those without power out of fear that those without power (Satanists) live only to physically abuse their ugly, fat, prejudiced, stupid children. Despite the statistically most likely people to abuse them being them themselves, and there being plenty of evidence that many of these hypocrites have done that in the past (numerically many - one thing I believe Qanon followers on is that the majority are gullible Maud Flanders types, so statistically it won't be that many).

Donald Trump supports them over the "violent" Antifa (Antifa haven't killed anyone since 1993 (and that was a suicide), aren't actually an organisation, and are against facism, which Trump also claims to be against), despite Qanon followers carrying and firing weapons regularly, having shot up a pizza place in a terrorist act, refusing to wear masks, and other acts of violence designed to terrorise people.

PART 2 WHO DO THEY HATE?

Um... like, 98% of people.

Qanon is primarily an Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult. They believe in what they call SRA (Satanic Ritual Abuse) which happens at such a low frequency as to make it as serious a problem as being invaded by pookas. You might find anecdotal evidence here and there, but the majority of cases are hearsay spread by people who weren't there who were a part of or raised by people who were a part of the Satanic Panic. If you hear about it, it's likely bullshit. Just look at the West Memphis 3: accused of Satanic Ritual Abuse, they were sent to prison for wearing black clothes and being teenagers without any evidence. Now, whoever killed those boys is still loose, because Qanon, like all right-wing groups, is about being obeyed, not about justice.

So, with Satanic Ritual Abuse being fucking vapour, they can accuse ANYONE. And if there is no evidence, they cry COVER UP. There is no way, at all, to prove this mindset is wrong as it always self corrects, because being religious in origin, it is driven by BELIEF, not evidence.

So, whoever they believe is evil, is, as far as their reality tunnel goes.

Muslims? Evil child abusers. "But there is no evidence of that. In fact, the Muslim community is actually very protective of their children and other children. They're amongst the kindest people you can meet, even if their political leaders in their own countries are jerks." Well, says Qanon, that's because their community covers up the abuse. There wouldn't be any evidence. But my cousin went to school with a girl who was groomed by a Muslim. It's clear it is something all Muslims do. "But that's stupid. That's like saying that because Ted Bundy, a heterosexual white Republican, murdered loads of women, all heterosexual white Republicans want to murder women!" Now, says Qanon, you are just being silly. Besides, I believe Muslims are bad and Republicans aren't. You can't question my beliefs.

But we can, and we should.

Qanon followers use this vague structure to create complex webs that link up various conspiracy theories, but they aren't a complex web. They're just a list of petty grievances they have from living in their own personal echo chamber.

They hate women, they hate girls, they hate boys who don't conform to their expectations, they hate men who vote left-wing, they hate gay people, bi people, really anyone who isn't heterosexual, they definitely hate trans people (see: trans people want to use bathrooms to abuse children as merely an extension of the Satanic Ritual Abuse claims), they hate people with coloured hair, bright clothes, they hate Jewish people, they hate Muslims, they hate anyone from a fringe religion that doesn't look right, they hate foreigners, black and brown people... anyone they define as different. And to back this up, they claim to be "the majority" being dictated to be a "minority" - they aren't. They're a minority of gobby cunts, a Karen of Nazis (Karen being the best collective noun to describe these childish crybabies who were so desperate to remain in a state of childlike innocence they embraced both religion and then keep insisting their imaginary friend, Jesus, is following them everywhere, like a psychotic stalker ghost).

PART 3 WHERE DOES THEIR BULLSHIT COME FROM?

This is probably the most important part. Not what they believe, but where these ideas come from, and why they aren't new.

Qanon is a mixture of young-and-edgy YouTube/8chan influencer, white supremacist religious manipulation, pro-Capitalist Protestant religious "life is shit, embrace misery" ideology, pedophile hysteria, and "we hate the idea people have rights because we're power mad, but we're going to frame this as a backlash, normal people making their voices heard, a culture war, or whatever else we can rebrand PREJUDICE because even we don't want to admit we are bigots".

So, first of all, the angry white online teenagers: have always existed, will always exist. Their parents don't give a shit about them unless they cause trouble. So, they learn quickly that the best way to get attention is to cause trouble, which leads to kinship with other troubkemakers, forming an echo chamber of escalating troublemaking. But they're also angry, and often poor (in their eyes, or in actuality), so they're drawn to outrage, and like causing it. They're attracted to movements like this because they believe it's a chance to get some attention, someone to notice them.

And who notices them? White supremacists are always on the lookout for recruits. They feed their need for outrage and attention by misrepresenting everything. They take puff-piece news articles and shoddy journalism and further twist them into movements around positions that have no basis in reality. Vaccines? Designed to hurt you. "Uhhh, no," you say. "That's literally the opposite of what a vaccine does." I don't believe that, they say, and you can't question my beliefs. BLM? Terrorism. "No, they just want to not be shot." No they don't, they want to take over and put the Jews in power, and you can't question my beliefs! "You have no evidence!" COVER UP! they scream.

So it goes, so it goes.

Meanwhile, the Protestan work ethic of, "If you didn't suffer, you don't deserve it," goes on and on. They believe that shit things just happen, you can't stop them. Capitalism is founded on this very, very relugious principle: work should be pain for it to have value. This justifies promoting assholes, and making things difficult. But it also promotes the idea that you can't do anything to combat inequality, as that is natural, and you can't do anything to stop bad things happening, they always will, so why try? This lends Qanon a specific pattern: complain, do nothing, complain nothing is being done, still do nothing, repeat. It's wrong to intervene, you see. This allows them to say racism is bad, but God wants us to suffer so we deserve phony-heaven, a paradise they think is built on bricks of human misery... does that sound glorious to you? And if you have something, clearly you did suffer to get it, and so you are worthy, which is why Trump is a hero to them and they believe his every utterance of verbal diarrhea about him being persecuted (to be fair, he is, but he deserves it because he's lazy and incompetent).

Pedophile hysteria is also generally religiously motivated. Children should be protected, but they are not innocent angels. I've worked with children. Some are nice, some are sneaky, some are violent bullies, and so on. The one thing that unites all children is that they are ignorant. That's why we send them to school. And there are people who want to prey on children. The world we usually use to describe those who most often hurt, abuse and damage children is, "family". Promoting the idea of gangs of rampaging pedophiles snatching children into vans and harming them in shadowy rooms, or murdering them in some Satanic ritual, is laughable compared to the epidemic of children being harmed by those parents terrified the pedophiles are out there. Such fear motivates them to do untold harm to children, restricting their freedoms and their growth, teaching them that all sex is bad so they never enjoy it, forcing them to be things they aren't, and turning a blind eye to obvious abuse because those doing it are not the model of abuse being put out by the press and Internet communities. In that last way, Qanon is a driver of child abuse: it actively encourages Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult members to nit even ask the obvious question: if Epstein was abusing kids, and Epstein was hanging out with Trump, was Trump maybe involved in some way?

And then there is just the prejudiced crowd, most notably the American-exceptionalism delusional whack jobs. Let me be clear, all forms of exceptionalism are prejudiced, as they suggest that those who are exceptional are better and mire deserving than others, and the real world does not contain such hierarchies, just stuff that happens until it stops happening. A monkey may be the alpha, but one day they won't be. It's not a hierarchy, it's just a thing that happens that we project a power structure onto. Who knows what monkey culture is like? Maybe to them deference is more honourable and respected than being in charge. No-one has asked monkeys for their views of ideology or power structures.

This often manifests itself in ideas of, "We shouldn't be ashamed!" and that movements they don't like are, "Against us!" Well, if you're setting out to hurt people because you believe you are better than them, you should be ashamed. That queer Pakistani girl you keep out of college could have been the one to cure cancer! She might have had the unique perspective to make that breakthrough. And, yes, some of us are against Qanon, because Qanon is hurting people. That is the point of the movement: to harm its enemies, by denial if freedom all the way up to outright murder. It isn't a Pride parade or BLM demanding equality and an end to deaths, its a hate movement driven by a desire to punch down, and ultimately perpetuate the very system that isn't even working for those who follow its own ideology.

It's based on fear of the new, even if that new place is better than the old one, change can be scary. They think equality will hurt them, the way collective bargaining would hurt them. But we don't live in a system where resources are so finite you have to do without, we live in a system where resources are finite but we throw away an excess because capitalism couldn't make rich people richer by giving it to those who need it, so they dispose of it and introduce scarcity to drive up the cost. Working together would force them to stop doing that, which is why movements like this exist: to perpetuate a form of exceptionalism more like a cult, where only the leaders reap the rewards.

PART 4 WHAT IS THE END GOAL OF QANON?

It doesn't have one.

Qanon is a right-wing movement. Right-wing movements are about winning arguments now, and then feeling smug, even when the damage is undone later. It's about a sense of self-satisfaction, and not anything else.

Plus, Qanon has so many stake-holders who hate each other that the movement will eventually descend into cannibalism as all these things do.

Finally, being primarily religious in its design, it won't take long for many religious types to realise Q is kind if a God-like figure, a false idol, and when that happens, plenty if their leaders will become worried that their followers are so focused on Q they might "stray from the path" of donating all their money to their church.

Unless it turns out that Q is Q from Star Trek, in which case their end goal is to test Jean-Luc Picard.

PART 5 SHOULD WE FEAR QANON?

Nah. It's a group of fringe lunatics whose time in the spotlight will be fleeting. As I've already said, even their ideas aren't original - this is the Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult version of Fortnite stealing dances: everyone goes crazy about it for a bit, but it's so insubstantial in its original form, nevermind the cover band version, that almost all people with a lick of common sense will dismiss it. Plus, it doesn't serve any agenda: Trump could easily find himself on the receiving end of it, that one Qanon politician just elected will likely be marginalised the moment Trump vanishes, and having a single person won't sway any votes in such divisive times, which means they'll be proclaimed ineffectual soon enough, and with Epstein it is already showing that it isn't something which helps the powerful, meaning a lot of people who do have secrets will want it gone sooner rather than later lest it bite their own hands. Plus, they are actually harming people - and say what you like about the Republicans, they don't tend to respond well to the PR disaster of groups they side with directly attacking or killing people unless they are their own ACAB stormtroopers.

Plus, it's a bunch of saddos on the Internet. Chances are if you see someone screaming about Qanon and waving around a gun, they'd have done the same and screamed about lizards had it never got started.

PART 6 WHAT SHOULD I DO?

Stop giving them attention. This is one of the most BORING conspiracy theories ever created. Seriously, since 9/11, conspiracy theories have really gone downhill. They used to be about aliens and subterranean kingdoms, and now they're just attempts to misdirect pedophile hunters from the right-wing types who have covered up child abuse, and tie it to phony "think of the children" and "Satan is out to get us" religious hysteria.

With covid-19, the press is having a very slow news cycle, so they're desperately grabbing at anything that can drive search engine algorithm clicks to their sites, so they're covering Qanon because they've seen it trending. I doubt most people involved with it really believe in it, but it is so directionless that it wouldn't matter if they did. Qanon Con would descend into bloodshed fairly quickly because everyone would be angry and arguing that the tater tots are secret SRA code for cannibalising children or that it reveals that Hilary Clinton buries children beneath fields of potatoes. It's stupid, the people involved with it are stupid, and the bigger question is what they believe that led them to this:

Disenfranchisement. Having to respect the beliefs of others. Prejudice. Anger.

Well, boo-fucking-hoo. If these shitbags actually want to stop harm to children, maybe stop supporting gun rights so kids aren't being gunned down in schools, and black kids don't keep getting gunned down everywhere. Until you do that, Qanon, you're the child abusers.