#he writes them at work when greg is being dumb around him

[gregkinz]

Greg looks in the ‘logistics’ folder before he deletes it obviously but the only thing inside is several long and poetic love letters addressed to Greg from Tom confessing his feelings for Greg

#is this anything #succession spoilers #tomgreg #succession season 4 #he writes them at work when greg is being dumb around him #he’s sitting at his desk waxing poetic about him while greg is struggling with xcell #there’s like 20 letters just sitting in there #girl michael

[takenbypeter]

Rodrick x y/n, whenever y/n is over Rodrick is somehow nicer to Greg. Greg ends up walking into a band rehearsal and Rodrick tries to keep his nice act up in front of y/n (they’re part of the band)♥️ btw thank you for doing all of my requests, I really love how you write them and your saving my life rn Blc my bf was about to break up with me and these imagines keep me going 🤍

All An Act

Rodrick x reader

Words: 842

~~~~~

Hey hey! Eep I'm so glad you're enjoying my little drabbles for you, thank you for requesting them 💕💖💕 I hope everything's okay with you and whatever situation you're going through, you get through it. REMEMBER YOU ARE STRONG! Anyways lets get into the story 😉

~~~~~

Greg didn’t get it at first. One minute Rodrick was being his usual mean self and the next he was acting nice, like suspiciously nice. He thought Rodrick was having those puberty mood swings that he’s heard about in health class, but then he finally figured it out. The key was you. 

It was pretty easy to solve, I mean Rodrick would be acting malicious and then the second you stepped foot into the room, it was like a complete one eighty flip. Of course after figuring this out, Greg just had to use it to his advantage and any time you were over he’d find a way to somehow squeeze himself into the room. 

Rodrick wasn’t dumb he knew that Greg was doing this but what could he do, he liked having you around and you seemed to like having Greg around. 

Once you all were hanging out in the living room when Greg brought up how Rodrick never lets him sit in during band practice, when all he’s ever wanted to do was watch, is at least what he said while batting big sad eyes at you. That’s when you turned to Rodrick and asked if it was okay for Greg to watch just one rehearsal. Although clearly against the idea, Rodrick grit his teeth and just smiled. 

So now, Greg was sitting on the little beanbag chair while the band practiced. When you came to a stop you turned to Greg asking what he thought. He said it was great, except for one thing. The band cautiously eyed Greg, not taking well to criticism, especially from a kid.

Then he said it, “the only thing that would actually make it better was if Rodrick could actually find the beat.”

The room went silent and your jaw dropped at Greg’s words before turning back to Rodrick. His eyes were wide and his nose flared angrily. It was not a good sight. Even Greg seemed slightly nervous that he'd pushed the limit before Rodrick put on a clench-toothed grin, “I’m gonna get a drink.” Silently the band watched as he stomped upstairs, slamming the door behind him. 

Head deep in the cold fridge, his hands searched for the first bottled drink he could find. He heard the downstairs door open and shut and without checking who it was, he says, “you’re just lucky, we’re not alone because once we are, I’m going to make your life a living hell.” He shut the fridge and jumped slightly at the sight of you. You stood there and offered him a smile while he bit back his words that were clearly saved for Greg. 

“What are you doing up here?” He asked with more confusion in his voice than attitude. 

“Just thought I’d join you for a drink.” 

He opened the fridge, “just water please,” you said and he threw you a bottle. After you gulped some of the liquid down he spoke up. 

“Earlier that wasn’t—I mean we don’t,” he motioned his hands between him and downstairs, “I wouldn’t ever talk to him like that.“

“Oh right,” you give a nod not believing him, “you would never do that.”

“Me?” He put a hand to his chest really emphasizing the word. “No, never.”

You roll your eyes wondering why he even kept denying it at this point. “Rodrick, drop the act. I know how siblings work, I’m not an idiot.”

He leaned forward, eyes widening, “I never said you—“

“Shut up, Rodrick,” you said, interrupting him from digging himself into a hole, “no one’s that nice, it’s actually sort of creepy. Amusing to watch but too good to be true.” He lets out a sigh of relief not having to put on this act anymore. 

“Thank God I don’t ever have to suck up to that twerp ever again,” he says, hand gripping his bottle. 

“You know he’s just trying to get under your skin though.”

He slurped down his own drink, letting your words go in one ear and out the other. 

“Hey! Don’t ignore me,” you say and he sips his drink again, this time hiding his grin behind the bottle. Setting your own bottle down against the counter behind you, you take a few steps closer to him, “It wouldn’t kill you to actually be a little bit nicer to him every once in a while.”

He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, “yes it would.” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “no it won’t.” 

“Yes it will.”

Leaning even closer you rest your hands on the countertop behind him, trapping him between your arms. 

With a slick smile and innocent eyes you said, “please just try it.”

Rodrick’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he visibly gulped. Stuck with nowhere to go he lets out a small sigh, “fine.”

“Good,” you grinned, grabbing his drink from out of his hand and taking a sip. “Now we have a band rehearsal to get back to.”

“But if he says one more word about my drumming he’s out.”

#rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley imagine #Rodrick Heffley x reader #rodrick fanfiction #rodrick fanfic #rodrick imagine #rodrick x reader #request #requests

[fitrahgolden]

There's A World You Need To Know: 6 - This growing need

About a month later, Kate was in session with Gregory and Hyacinth, doing self portraits.

“Hey, Hyacinth. Can we talk about what’s going on in your drawing? Would that be OK?”

“Um, I don’t know if I can.”

“Oh, OK. Why do you feel like you may not be able to? Do you not want to?”

Hyacinth threw her colored pencil down. “I want to, but–”

Gregory sighed, exasperated. “She’s sad because you and Anthony don’t talk anymore.”

“Greg, shut up!”

“Gregory, if Hyacinth doesn’t want to talk about it, you can’t–”

“But I want to talk about it! She’s scared we can’t because it’s about you, not us. Not really.”

Fuck. “Um, you can tell me, if you’d like. I’ll let you know if I can’t talk about it, OK?”

“Well, Hy and I thought you and Anthony were friends but he’s never around when you’re here anymore. Um… Actually, we thought you were in love or something.”

Fuck!

“We tried to tell Mum and she told us we can’t talk about it. Which is so dumb! Why can’t we talk about it?!”

“Greggy, can you take a breath? Remember when we talked about how even if you write, or sing, or draw, or breathe, some things can still be really hard to talk about?”

“Yes,” the kids said in unison.

“Well, it’s no different with adults. And we said you really can’t make someone talk about something if they don’t want to.”

“But we want to talk about it.”

Kate took a deep, long breath. “OK.”

Hyacinth took a mindful breath as well. “Well, Gregory and I really liked when you and Anthony liked each other. Anthony was so happy. It made everything better. The stuff we talked about, with him spending more time with us and feeling more like a brother than a mum. He used to act more like Mum. I know he used to have to be our mum when Mum was unwell but she’s taking care of us now. For a little while he stopped being our mum but now he’s our mum again. I liked when he was our brother. I didn’t know he could be just our brother.”

“It was awesome!” Greg interjected.

“It was! So, when you guys started being friends and talking all the time, we thought he would be our brother forever. I know it's selfish.”

Kate put her hands over Hyacinth’s “It’s OK to feel selfish sometimes. Everyone does. And you’re doing a really good job talking about it. I completely understand what you are saying.”

“So, if you two got married, Anthony would be happy forever and so we would have our brother forever.”

“You guys, it’s very good that you want your brother to be happy. And I know you feel like you know what would make him happy, but it’s important to remember you can’t make someone happy and you may not know exactly what they need. And them being happy may not look the way you think it should. Just like we talked about with your mother, right?”

The kids just nodded, deflated.

“So… You aren’t in love and aren’t getting married?” Hyacinth asked shyly.

“Kids, I want you to focus on the things you can control. Do you remember what those things are?”

Greg spoke up. “How we handle and communicate our feelings, how we react to the world around us, and how we ask for help when we need it.”

He then turned to his sister and whispered, “That means ‘no,’ Hyacinth. They aren’t.”

—

Kate walked into her Mum’s house and it was quiet. “Mum?”

“Kate?” Mary walked out into the hall. “Hello, love!”

Mary gave Kate a hug, and when she did, Kate clung to her and couldn’t stop the tears from falling immediately.

“Kate? Kate, what is it?”

“I messed up, Mummy.”

“Come, let’s sit down.”

Once they settled on the couch in the living room, Mary clutched Kate’s hands.

“What happened?”

After a breath, Kate answered, “I resigned from working with the Bridgertons.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you when you stop working with a family. You get so invested in your work. But, you said you messed up?”

“Well.. I–I got too invested. In the kids. And…in their brother.”

“Ah.” Mary sat back. “You two are…together?”

Kate shook her head vigorously. “We, um, we kissed. About a month and a half ago. But I haven’t seen him since.”

“OK. Well, I know that wasn’t OK, you know, because of you work, but if it was just a kiss and you aren’t seeing either other–”

“No, Mummy. It wasn’t just a kiss. I, uh, I think we love each other.”

“Oh.”

Kate squeezed her eyes shut and put her head in her hands. Mary started rubbing her back. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I kept seeing Greggy and Hy afterward. But it was… I couldn’t be who they needed me to be, who I had been for them. They started talking to me about Anthony. About me. It was a disaster. They took it pretty hard, but I had to explain to them that I’d gone as far as I could with them and I recommended Will Mondrich. He’s great. We work the same way. He’ll be good for them. But they were so upset. And I couldn’t do anything about it. They hate me.”

“I’m certain that isn’t true. You did what you had to, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

They sat in silence as Mary continued rubbing Kate’s back and Kate’s tears continued to fall.

“So… What did you tell Anthony?”

Kate winced. “Nothing.”

“Kate.”

“I know. I’m scared. I don’t think this is enough for us to be together. And I can’t look him in the eye and disappoint him again.” 

“He’s going to find out, if he hasn’t already.”

“I know.”

“And then what?”

Kate shrugged, defeated. “He knows where to find me.” And she dreaded the idea.

—

That night, Anthony parked his car in front of Kate’s house. He took a few shallow breaths before running up to her door and knocking, too loud and too rapidly. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door, but when it didn’t open, he knocked again.

“Kate, please open the door.”

There was another pause and he raised his fist to knock again when the door opened slowly.

Anthony took her in. She's painting, he thought. It was obvious from her clothes and the colorful smears everywhere. He thought about the photo she sent him while she was in Cork. The photo that would his phone's background right now if, A) Tom hadn't been the one who took it, and B) his family weren't so fucking nosy. She looked so beautiful when she was in her element. She looked beautiful all the fucking time.

"Are you alone?"

Her voice was almost a whisper. "Yes. Well…"

On cue, a little corgi puppy ran up and sat at Kate’s feet, looking up at Anthony.

"You got a dog,” though his voice implied a distinct lack of interest.

"Yes. His name is Newton." Kate stared at Anthony, not sure what to expect.

"OK. May I come in?"

Kate’s eyes widened. "I don't think that's a good idea."

It stung, but too many things were going through Anthony’s mind to linger on that. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew Violet would. Or Will would introduce himself."

"So? This is it, Kate. It's what was standing in our way."

Kate said nothing and Anthony panicked.

"Right? Right, Kate? Do you still… I thought this is what we were waiting for."

"It's not that simple."

Fuck, of course it wasn’t. "I love you. Do you love me?" He tried his best not to sound angry. He wasn’t angry, but this was killing him.

"Yes." Her voice was small but sure.

Anthony felt himself exhale and hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. At least she hadn’t hesitated. "We love each other. You aren't working for my family anymore. What else do we need?"

"Time."

"What?"

"I can't jump into a relationship with my clients' brother as soon as they aren't my clients anymore. There has to be time. Distance."

Distance? Literal distance? "How long?"

"I'm not sure, Anthony. I’m sorry."

Anthony stepped forward and pulled Kate's face to his, their foreheads touching. "Then we'll wait to tell people."

Kate shook her head vigorously. "No."

Goddammit. "Kate."

"No, I don't want us to be a secret. You deserve better than that."

Things were silent for a while save for their ragged breaths.

"Can I please kiss you?" Anthony was begging and he didn’t care. He’d never felt so desperate.

Kate nodded before tilting her chin up so their lips could meet. Immediately, Anthony’s hands were everywhere. They eventually made their way into the bun sitting messily atop her head. He blindly fumbled until her hair fell around her back and shoulders. Newton had the decency to fall asleep at some point before this.

Forgetting himself, he worked open the oversized button down she was wearing, revealing a old stretched out tank top that was so fucking thin. He started to push the overshirt down her arms, but stopped suddenly when he remembered they were in her open doorway. He may have stopped undressing her but he couldn’t stop kissing her.

"You're sure it has to be this way, right? You can't invite me in right now? I miss you so fucking much, Kate. Invite me inside. Please."

"No. No, not yet." Kate protested between kisses.

Anthony whimpered. "As soon as you say when, I'll come running. You know that, right? You are it for me."

Kate just nodded, tears mixing into their kisses but neither of them let up.

"And I'm it for you, right? Can I hear you say it? I need something. Fuck, I feel like I'm dying, baby.”

"You're it for me. I promise. I love you."

#anthony x kate #bridgerton #kanthony #kanthonyedit #kate and anthony #kate x anthony #kate bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #bridgerton au #anthony bridgerton #anthony and kate #lord bridgerton #therapist au #kathony #kanthony fanfic #there's a world you need to know au #there's a world you need to know

[everythingcanadian]

Sherlock/Watson/Lestrade/Mycroft idea

Just joined this fandom. And i have a thought here.( Yes this includes holmescest. Fuck off if you don't like it.)

And it may have already been said.

But the skull Sherlock has in the flat being used as Yorick's skull in a small reciting of Hamlet.

It's a Sunday. Neither Greg nor Mycroft are needed at their places of work. So it's a rare day off for all of them.

Greg is slowly making himself and Mycroft cups of afternoon coffee. A small indulgence they share and enjoy. The little frother Sherlock gave him at a crime scene whirring away in a small metal carafe to create light and cold milk foam.

A case had been solved on Friday morning in the wee hours, so Sherlock is content to relax for the moment. He's playing with his fingers on the chair's armrests, mentally going through a section of a piece of music he's been lowly composing.

John is writing something down on a pad of paper with the pen Mycroft got him for Christmas. The buttery soft scratch of the fountain pen in his hand is a delightful harmony to the soft tapping of Sherlocks fingers and socked toes along with the even hum of the frother.

And Mycroft is perfectly happy relaxing on the couch with his eyes closed, listening to the soft trio of sounds in 221B. The domestic silence is a balm over his usually busy mind. The slippers Greg had told him to get were warm and cozy as he had his feet elegantly proped up on the fool rest John had bought for the flat.

The silence never lasts. It only pauses.

They had put their mundane conversation on hold for the few minutes it took for Greg to get himself and Mycroft a treat. And to toss the pack of dark chocolate coated digestives to Sherlock. And to bring a small packet of crisps for John to pick at.

Once he had sat back down next to Mycroft on the couch. However, it was like someone had pressed play again.

They had started out earlier with reminiscing on University days. Then Greg had laughed and said Sherlock probably blew through all his classes in one year. Which then dragged them down a line of their early childhood and teenage educations.

"What load of tripe did you lot have to read for Shakespeare. We had a play each year from year 7 until year 11." John had bemoaned. "I then had The Dumb Waiter for my GCSE program. Thank christ."

Greg smiled into his mug when he heard Mycroft scoff. This was good.

"Shakespeare may be entirely over taught but his tragedies still hurt to experience."

"You had Macbeth, didn't you?" John lifted his pen and looked at Mycroft.

"Three bloody years in a row." The mild disgust on Mycroft’s face had both Greg and John grinning. "I didn't really care for the plays, Shakespeare or otherwise. The epics were more for me."

"Posh boy." John teased with affection.

"Indeed."

Greg swallowed around the rich warmth. "We had Romeo and Juliet for the 8th. Then Othello for the 9th. Then the two Richards. Got stuck with The Tempest in uni. It was alright."

Sherlock laughed. And then bit his lip to try to keep it in. But it was woefully impossible.

"Thanks, love." Greg's voice belayed his eyeroll. "What did you have?"

"He got lucky. Only had to do two." Mycroft said through his teeth. Semi-annoyed.

"Macbeth. And, Hamlet."

"Is that why you have the skull?" Greg's brows rose.

"Oh- no, that's a different item altogether. The original was blown up, remember? I replaced it. But-" Sherlock stood up, putting the still unopened pack of biscuits on the floor next to his chair. He glided easily over to his skull friend and picked it up. He held it out and regarded it. A smile flicked up his lips. John capped his pen and sat back in his desk chair as Sherlock cleared his throat and stood tall, face changing into one of teasing but serious nature as he pressed his voice to be bold.

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now how abhorred in my imagination it is!

My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap- fall'n?

Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come. Make her laugh at that."

Sherlock bowed when he heard the claps from his lovers, Greg taking the piss and shouting, "Bravo, bravo! Encore!"

Sherlock snorted before placing the skull back on the mantle. Patting the cranium lightly before going back to his chair.

"You did enjoy the theatrical, brother mine." Mycroft sighed it softly, "I remember you performing the whole of Henry the fifth's speech. Quite emotional for me to hear you like that."

Sherlock closed his eyes and tipped his head in a bow.

John's little smile grew to be that all encompassing hug of one. Where his eyes softened and it made you feel safe. "I'd love to see that. I bet it's a deep moment."

"My voice cracked in the middle of it on my last performance of it."

"It was a- fragile time if I remember it right." Greg's voice pitched down as he looked at Sherlock, his hand finding Mycroft’s leg for something to hold. "You wanted to prove you were sober. Finally. We were at Mycroft's home, in the guestroom, and it was officially a month clean. And here Sherlock was, standing on the bed in his pyjamas, voice steady for the beginning, and quieting down as the intimacies of the speech hit him." Greg took another sip of his drink. Licking his lips he tilted his head and kept his brown eyes trained on Sherlock. "It was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. Held you between the two of us we did. Let you cry it all out. Fielded your tantrum after. But it's worth it."

Sherlocks shoulders relaxed as he heard that.

Mycrofts own hum of assurance added to Greg's sentiments.

"And it led us here." Sherlock murmured into the room between them all.

"Indeed it has." Mycroft smiled warmly and placed his free hand over Greg's on his thigh.

#holmescest #sherstrade #johnlock #johncroft #johnstrade #mystrade #ot4: a di a detective the governemt and a doctor #ill work on that #sherlock x watson x lestrade x mycroft #fic #my fic #i may extend this #prompt #bbc sherlock

[wingsmadeofwaxx]

officially finished watching sherlock. i have been irreversibly changed as a person. what the fuck (affectionate)?

1: i cant even force myself to be mad about the queer-baiting cuz i'll just pretend they're canon anyway (guys, come on, episode 1 had so many cliché romantic tropes that i genuinely lost count, everyone around them assumed because their feelings were see-through, and their endgame is literally living together and raising a baby!)

2: the show is so clever that even when i predicted a few plot twists i still felt absurdly dumb throughout all of it. it was so humbling to see sherlock as the most intelligent human to ever exist and then he gets outsmarted by so many others and *sigh*. i must have a bit of a masochist streak after all because it was actually amazing, not despite the unreachable deductions but because of them.

3: sherlock growing as a person?? consider me devastated. i don't even mean "learning not to smile in front of grieving witnesses", i mean every single time he was extra gentle with molly knowing her feelings but not wanting to exploit them, every single time he was unafraid to vouch for john as family and (quite literally) go into fire for him if necessary to make it known how much he cares, every single time he promised mary and rosie are under his protection, every time he gets greg's name right, every time he worries for mrs hudson's well being more than his own, every time he looks after his siblings despite them all pretending to be above that, every time he's silly and smiles easily and carelessly because he is happy and he is allowed to be so because there are people who care about him just the way he is but that also inspire him to always he better. high-functioning sociopath my ass. empathy's a problem, sure, but he grows to care so much. he loves so deeply and unapologetically and possessively and it makes me wanna sob for hours to know they won't let him be lonely and self-destructive any longer.

4: the cases were so well-thought of and the writing and cinematography of the whole thing were just beautiful, i am proud to call it not just an entertainment media (although there's nothing wrong with that) but a real work of art.

5: how on earth did they manage to keep the chaotic dark academia vibe so well in a adaptation set on present day??? yknow how in mystery stories or fantasy quests you're just like "a phone would literally solve the problems in half the time"? they actually do! keep everyone updated! photograph every part of the puzzle! google clues! and it's great! refreshing to see, truly. not to mention all the women in strong positions and casual queer support. but at the same time, to set the vibe right, there's so many letters and cabs and newspapers and easy access to drugs and their clothes and vocabulary make it all so distant in time too! i wonder if england is just perpetually old fashioned or if they mixed elements on purpose. loved it though.

6: it is currently 04:21 in the morning and i am sleepy and no one cares about this rant so 5 reasons why i loved it are more than enough thank you

[fumisdemonicrealm]

Math with Petva x Lyla, Throne with Carol x James or Slumber with Greg x Forte

(I was hella excited to write these.)

Math - Our muses have sex in the 69 position

Lyla was working on something as Petva suddenly pulled their arms around her and smirked..

“You know Emerald.. babe... I kind of could go for a late night snack right now...”

“I do still have some chocolate in the freezer...”

As she tried to turn to them she got already kissed a bit more softly... followed by a more longing look from Petva at her... slowly letting their hand squeeze her breasts a little.

“I think I have been more crawing something delicious like you...”

Lyla fully turned around and took off the jacket she was wearing.

“I see... well how about we both satisfy our hunger then....”

This was where Petvas smirk vanished and turned into a dumb grin.

“Gosh I love you so fucking much for stuff like this... you always know what I need....”

Lyla was used to Petva being like this when she was in the lab so she even got a small bed space in the back which she could lock so nobody could disturb them, although sometimes she didn’t even make it till then cause Petva already undressed her quickly... it was like a tiger chasing after its prey, at least today she did manage to get in her underwear into the room, Pulling Petva closer for a kiss as they remove her bra... They fully unclothed each other as Petva leaned back... and Lyla scooted over them to get in position.

“It looks like a whole good meal from here... your ass looks too good.”

“H-hey...” Lyla turned a bit red before letting her lips kiss the tip and slowly take it in... Petva quickly pulled her down starting to let their tongue go inside her, causing Lyla to utter an moan from her lips...She did try to focus well to please them however lots of pressure and intensity as Petva got more intense made it hard for her to focus...

“C-calm... haa down a little... “

“Its just delicious...”

Lyla still didn’t want to back down and did her best to focus on the task at hand... in the end she did manage to cum a bit earlier than anticipated into Petvas mouth, but she did manage to do enough to make up for it with a quick titjob...

“Babe... that was real good...”

“Geez... I need to practise if I want to beat you in time... “

“My bad.”

She turned around to face them with a smile.

“I do like your wild side though... its fun to be with.”

After both washed a little Petva still had it hard to let her leave to her project... so in the end she was trapped in their arms again...seems her invention had to wait.

________________________________________________

Throne - One muse sits on the other’s face

The days sparring sessions for him were a bit exhausting that day... James leaned back onto his bed but then cursed himself for being in this state... mainly cause his girlfriend was running around in his room in underwear to get him something to drink and rest up, eyeing him with some concerned but also curious eyes... and he couldn’t even give Carol what she wanted... he knew from the little signs of her body that she was once again in that state where she just wished she could let her dirty mind out, but held back cause she cared about his wellbeing first.

“James, are you alright?”

“Its fine really, just the heat getting to me... but how about you, are you alright?”

She held her hand on his forehead to see if he had a fever leaning overhim.

“What do you mean?”

“Well usually you just walk around in underwear when you want something from me?”

This was where her head turned red imidiatly... and she looked away a bit shyly....

“I guess you are right... I did hope for a little reward after our sparring together... I did take a shower because I knew you were too exhausted sooo... I just want you to rest well.”

He lightly leaned back and smiled at her...

“I can still give you a little reward... maybe not sex but... I could still give you a little pleasure... with my mouth at least.”

Seeing him like this she smiled back and removed her underwear. Firstly sitting on his lap to give him a kiss, while he lightly touched her breasts a little before scooting more up...

“P-Please tell me when its too much for you- ahhhhh ♡ “

Before she could even protest he already wrapped his arms around her thighs and started to lick her... her noises became more and more higher which was music to his ears... as she bounced lightly from this... she did enjoy a lot sitting on him although nothing beat the actual sex with him.

“James... ahh... I am....hnn.. “

She did try to say something but feeling this she hardly could control anything... untill she just leaned back a little and enjoyed it... as her moans grew louder and she did manage to finally make it... quickly scooting back from his so he could get some air... breathing heavily as well...

“You just make me the happiest girl I could be... even when you are done yourself... haa...”

He cleaned himself up and smiled at her. “Anything for my caring Girlfriend...”

“Are you sure I can’t help you a little as well.” She stared down at him noticing he had a boner from this... he looked at her red...

“And I thought I was too exhausted... Only if you want to..”

She scooted down on her knees fumbling on the zipper of his pants then winked at him.

“Leave it all to me.”

_________________________________

Slumber - One muse has a sex dream about the other

For once to be on this photo shoot with Forte and Emma being in swimsuits, Gregory was glad he could join this shoot as well... however in between breaks he went to the on call room to sleep a little. Take a power nap to do better later... however fantasy went wild with him from what he witnessed before...

He found himself on a real beach, seeing Forte from afar wait for him with a smile waving at him. He quickly ran up to her and pulled her into a hug... laying her on one of the beach towels and bending over her. She turned red in her face.

"I can't resist you anymore... please just do me here and now." He untied her bikini swiftly and embraced her chest a little, getting quick to action... as he teased her to hear her sweet noise..m however before he was able to even do it with her he suddenly found a pain to his head. As he woke up he saw Emma, who seemed to have hit him on the head with a script book, next to her was Forte chuckling a little.

"Huh... damn... that dream was so good.... why Em?"

She sighed... "Given how you look like it's easy to see what you dreamed about."

He looked down and then he could see see he meant... given Forte was in the same room he tried to hide it.

"Shaddup... I am done in 4 minutes and then I come back to the set."

Great Emma had to expose him... well at least he could try to drift into that Dream later.

#lyla atsuki #lyla x petva #carol ann #carol x james #gregory darknon #gregory x forte

[alexwritesfiction]

you really know how to make me cry (when you give me those ocean eyes)

AO3

johnlock | tw suicide mention, swearing | fluff and angst | a/n: ignore typos pls

the one where lestrade breaks down and tells sherlock about how wrecked john was after sherlock's fake death, and it leads to a very wholesome confrontation.

Prompt: Lestrade has a bit of a break down and starts telling Sherlock about John after the fall; "you weren't here Sherlock! you didn't see him! you weren't the one who got drunk phonecalls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!"

---

Lestrade really did work hard. Well, lately he hadn’t had to. Sherlock had come back, after all. And for that exact reason, he’d called his dear friend for a breakfast. That was, if John could handle Sherlock being out of his sight for more than five minutes. Greg could swear he was clingier to Sherlock than to Mary.

And he couldn’t even blame him for it. The dumb fool had given all of them heart attacks when he pulled the big prank. Greg had hated himself for not being able to save Holmes.

As he waited, he looked down at his wrist to check the time on, ironically, the same watch Sherlock had once given him. Or rather, Molly had on Sherlock’s behalf.

“Hello, Graham,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke above him, and he looked up to see Sherlock already sat in front of him. He'd become good at that; sneaking around.

“Before you say anything, let me tell you, I will let you solve cases from now on, but I do need a good murder every now then. Maybe you'll need my help soon enough,” he smiled in that know-all way of him, placing his hand on top of another on the table.

Greg couldn’t help but show his wonder at how Sherlock had known exactly what was going to happen.

“How did you- never mind. I shouldn’t even ask,” he said. If his nervous tics were anything to go by, Sherlock probably had him all figured out.

“Well, now that that’s over, I need your help,” he said, quickly and Lestrade almost fell off his chair at hearing that from him.

“I- you- what?” he asked again, and he could genuinely not comprehend what Sherlock had just said.

“I'm going to, ah, prank John,” he smiled a little wider. “I need you to help me pull it off,” his eyes sparkled and as soon as the words “prank john” had left his mouth, Lestrade had hit his limit.

He was done. He was so done with his friend not understanding just how much he had really affected everyone around him. He knew Sherlock didn’t expect anyone to care if he was there or gone, but people did. Just like that, Lestrade burst.

“Prank? A prank?” he said and Sherlock was taken aback by the belittling way he'd said. Greg stood up, almost spilling his beloved coffee. For once, Sherlock did not know why he was so mad.

“How much more do you want to hurt him? Don’t you think you’ve done enough of that after the big fucking Moriarty prank?” His anger was rising and he willed for himself to calm down, but he couldn’t imagine being so dense after solving so many mysteries.

Sherlock remained seated, a frown pulled upon his cupid’s bow. Why would people be hurt? In his idea of a world without himself, all that would change was that John would marry Mary, Mr. Hudson wouldn’t be annoyed and Lestrade would have more work and Mycroft would be the same. Why would anything change?

“I don’t- Lestrade, it's just a prank. It's quite funny, I imagine,” he tried to get the situation under his control, under his sense. He wasn't used to not knowing what was going on.

Greg started to leave after a moment, grabbing his coffee and his coat and walking away. Sherlock’s voice calling him stopped him in his tracks, and just because he’d uttered his real name, called him Greg for the first time ever. That effectively shattered him and gave him courage to say what he was about to.

“You weren't here Sherlock! You didn't see him! You weren't the one who got drunk phone calls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!" he yelled, speeding back to the damned detective still watching him.

His face turned ghostly pale, and he was speechless at the confession. John- his John- had tried to- God, he had tried to not exist anymore. Sherlock’s mind was completely blank and running the fastest it ever had simultaneously.

This time, it was Sherlock’s turn to abruptly stand up and sprint away in the freezing winds, leaving a very unstable Lestrade right at the table, reeling from what had just happened.

On his way back, all Sherlock could think of was a world without John. How could that even be possible? There would be no Sherlock, no Sherlock’s world. Because, as he had come to realize it in his days of living without him, John was quite literally his world.

He could not think of the time before Watson, he could not remember his lifestyle, one without seeing john right after waking up and right before sleeping, and sometimes only staring at him sleep so peacefully. 221B Baker Street came into view rather quickly than Sherlock expected it to, and his feet led him right up to his shared room, ignoring Mrs. Hudson’s calling him.

He found John sitting on a chair, particularly, Sherlock’s chair, wrapped up in Sherlock’s favourite billowy coat. And he looked like he had no worried in his life in that position.

Sherlock almost didn’t wake him, debated ruining his sleep for a mere question. But he needed answers, or he would drive himself crazy with all the scenarios in his head.

“John! Wake up!” he urged, and something in his voice didn’t feel right to a sleeping John because he was up and alarmed in five second flat.

He flicked his head around the room, finally settling his gaze on Sherlock, with his lips pressed into a thin line. John had never seen Sherlock like this, all red nosed and red cheeked and so human. And although one could say that Sherlock Holmes was the most human version of himself around john Watson, it still felt ethereal.

The sunlight fell on John’s face such that he looked like an angel to Sherlock, his anchor to reality. But he would not let himself imagine what it would be like to lose his anchor.

“Was what Lestrade said true?” he spoke carefully, closely inspecting John’s face. He saw John’s face contort in confusion, and shake his head.

“He said, he said he saw you. In the cemetery, with your- your gun, in your mouth,” he spoke so softly that John had to strain his ears to catch onto what he was saying.

And once he did, he was taken back, and it took a full moment for him to process that Sherlock knew. He did not get scared of this, he could not because him finding out seemed like such a small pain as compared to the night he was referring to.

He’d gone insane without Sherlock’s little quips and remarks and him being around all the time and his mere presence came back to bite at him. It was a particularly awful night. He’d fought with Mary, over Sherlock nonetheless, but it had been meaningless as soon as he found himself drunk at his grave. He’d called Lestrade because he needed anything that would make him feel like Sherlock was there. Like he existed.

“I thought you died, Sherlock,” he spoke slowly, Sherlock’s coat still around him. He didn’t dare take it off.

“John,” he uttered and then he was right there striding towards his freaking other half. He didn’t know what fuelled it but right then he had a burning need to hold john, to feel him close, for him to be his anchor through whatever whirlwind of emotions he was going through.

John hugged him back just tight, as hard as he could, because god if he hadn’t dreamed of this since the very first time they giggled together at a crime scene. He didn’t know if this chance would come again and he was not going to let it go now that it was here.

“I didn’t know that you cared,” Sherlock said then, and he was terrified of the wet feeling on his cheeks that completely broke john’s heart. John hastily wiped them away because absolutely could not stand the sight of Sherlock being so vulnerable.

Mary’s words came back to him: “You care about him, John, more than me or yourself, and enough that you’re willing to ruin yourself over him.” He realized how wrong she was that night. Sherlock was not the reason John was sad sad, it was his absence. As much as he had hated admitting it to himself, Sherlock was his anchor to reality, too.

The two men stood sharing a moment there, neither of them needing to say anything. But then john recalled Sherlock’s previous words, about not knowing that john cared about him. He wanted to tell him he cared about him, that he could not go a day without seeing him.

But that was exactly was Sherlock was scared of. So, he said the only thing that fit perfectly:

“Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

-

taglist: ask/reply to be +/-

@metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-bi-disaster @a-completely-normal-writer @felonyfairy @cool-but-confused  @writing-is-a-martial-art @47crayons @weirdfishy @fiercely-raging-writer

moots: @sherlockisactuallyagaysname u might like this? 

#fanfiction #my works #my writing #johnlock #ao3 #my fanfics #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #acd sherlock holmes #johnlock fluff #johnlock fanfic

[lulu2992]

Hi Lulu, I've been backreading your Tumblr and I noticed you participated in a Q & A session with Greg Bryk on Instagram. He was answering questions about Far Cry 5 stuff, but I unfortunately wasn't around for that one. If you don't mind me asking, what questions and answers about FC5 do you remember from that session? If you could let me know about what I'd missed, I'd be very grateful! :)

Hi :) Yes, he did several live videos on Instagram to chat with his followers (because he was bored during lockdown and needed human connection, I think). There were a lot of questions about Far Cry 5 but also about him, his life in general, and his other projects. I do remember a lot of the things he said about the game because people always ask the same questions. There were also many things he had already mentioned in other videos and interviews.

At first, he didn’t feel like auditioning for the role of Joseph Seed and wasn’t really interested in being in a video game, mostly because he hadn’t realized how far technology had come. His agent eventually convinced him to try and Ubisoft gave him a script. It was (an early draft of) Joseph’s monologue about his wife and daughter. He said the text was amazingly written and deeply resonated with him because he too became a father at a young age. On a side note, I remember that Dan Hay (executive producer, creative director, and writer on Far Cry 5) said that, when he saw his audition, he showed it to other people and they all came to the same conclusion: “It’s him. We found The Father”.

They shot Inside Eden’s Gate in Montana in 2017 while the state was burning. He said he thought the air smelled amazing when he arrived and felt a bit dumb when he was told it was because everything was on fire. While they were shooting the short film, Drew Holmes, Far Cry 5’s lead writer, sent him the eulogies for Joseph’s siblings. Playing The Father and having to memorize those lines in an almost end-of-the-world atmosphere was special.

The day they recorded the final, collective eulogy, it took him some time to mentally prepare himself and really get in the mood. At one point, Dan Hay saw that he was ready and that they needed to shoot the scene now. When Greg was done, after two intense minutes of actual crying, the room was completely silent until the train that sometimes passes outside the studio (and forces them to stop recording whatever they’re recording) passed, and Dan turned to the devs who were there and told them he wanted them to keep everything that had just happened and to put it in the game. As a result, the cutscene is very faithful to the performance Greg gave that day.

He loved playing Joseph and felt a true connection with the character. Even though he recognizes he’s a villain, he admits he agrees with a lot of the things he says, especially about society. He also thinks “there was something pure about his commitment to his family” and that he loved his siblings equally.

He always compliments Dan Hay, Drew Holmes, and Jean-Sébastien “JS” Décant, the three main writers of Far Cry 5, and says he loved working with them because they are talented and passionate people. Being in that game was an amazing experience and, if he gets another opportunity and the writing is as good as it was in Far Cry, he would love to be in another video game.

When asked what his opinion on Far Cry New Dawn was, he simply said he liked revisiting his character and thought the relationship between Joseph and Ethan was interesting to explore as an actor and as a father. But he worked on New Dawn for a much shorter time (only a few days, if I’m not mistaken) so the experience clearly wasn’t as memorable and as life-changing as becoming The Father in Far Cry 5.

Usually, someone asks him to say something as Joseph. Usually, after reading the question, he gets closer to his phone’s camera, looks straight into it, and says with The Father’s characteristic calm tone of voice, “Something is coming. You can feel it, can't you? That we are creeping toward the edge... and there will be a reckoning”.

One of his favorite lines was, “Suffering is a choice. And you can choose a better path”.

In the trailers, when Joseph sings, it’s not Greg’s voice. In the game, though, it is.

He only worked with his “siblings” Seamus Dever, Mark Pellegrino, and Jenessa Grant for a very short time (about a day each). However, he found out that Steve Byers, who played Nick Rye, lived only “five blocks away” from his house. I think they saw each other a few times since they finished working on the game.

He’s never met Michael Mando (Vaas Montenegro in Far Cry 3) but, even before he started working on Far Cry 5, he had heard very positive things about him from other people in the Canadian acting community. He thinks he’s extremely talented and “a beast”. He’s confident that Giancarlo Esposito will be great as Antón Castillo in Far Cry 6 because he’s an amazing actor as well.

He doesn’t have the original yellow glasses anymore. He signed them and they were sold on Indiegogo to help his oldest son Dempsey fund his film, L for Loser.

He says the fans’ response to Joseph is usually very positive and he’s happy that people love the character as much as he does. He’s impressed by how talented and passionate cosplayers, fanfiction writers, fan artists, and creators in general are and he supports them because he believes it’s always good to express your creativity. He’s definitely come across some “risqué” stuff but he seems fine with that.

#'I’ve been backreading your tumblr' is a scary sentence haha #sometimes when I see an old post of mine I’m like 'oh my god why did I write that?' #far cry 5 #greg bryk #the good times before he started tweeting weird stuff #to be honest I’m not 100% sure all the things listed here were said on instagram but I’m certain he said them somewhere #joseph seed #dan hay #drew holmes #jean sébastien décant #I understand why he goes by ‘JS’ #sorry english speakers our names are complicated for you to pronounce #inside eden’s gate #far cry new dawn #maybe I’m biased but I feel like he didn’t enjoy fcnd as much as he enjoyed fc5 #far cry 5 spoilers #I’ve watched so many interviews that I could answer at least 2/3 of the questions people usually ask

[criminalmutantsins]

Top 10 Favorite Young Justice Characters

10. Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle

Starting off the list is Blue Beetle. Young Justice introduced me to him, and I was hooked. He’s probably the most mellow and calming voice. His arc and relationship with Bart (friendship or not) were my favorite aspects of S2. They bounced off each other in every scene. I was very disappointed when Jaime and Bart were sidelined so much, and hope S4 changes this (particularly with Bart).

Jaime in the number 10 spot since he doesn’t really have much of a memorable personality. Still love him to bits though.

        9. Will Harper/Red Arrow

Funny enough, I did not like Will. He was an asshole in S1; S2 kind of changed my mind about him but not enough since he didn’t appear as much. What really changed my mind was the episode “Private Security” (S3 Ep.4). I started looking back into Will’s storylines and, I have to admit, his is probably one of the best character development.

The first season had him unwillingly living a lie and betraying the people he cared for. In season 2 he was so consumed into finding the original Roy for five years, not even caring or focusing about his own life. I felt really bad for Will because he was probably going through an identity crisis and thought he couldn’t live his life without finding Arsenal. Probably felt guilty.

Seeing him living his own life and being happy with his daughter was so heartwarming. I smiled every time Will appeared in the latest season (totally ignoring the Will x Artemis fiasco), especially with Lian. I’m very proud of him.

I feel bad for putting him so low, yet I adore the next characters more.

 8. Garfield Logan/Beast Boy

I have been a massive Beast Boy fan since Teen Titans so you probably can imagine how excited to see him. His origin story was unique and his brother-sister bond with M’gann was very sweet. It was pretty weird seeing how much younger Gar was than Dick, but I got used to it. I was bummed that Gar wasn’t in S2 as much; however, S3 truly made up for it. 

After watching Beast Boy being a great leader in S5 of Teen Titans, I wanted a leader-like and more mature version of him. Young Justice truly delivered with Gar being the leader of the Outsiders. It’s nice to see him treated with respect rather than as a joke because that was my biggest gripe with Teen Titans. Though it was weird seeing him not crack a joke at all.

Gar’s story with his mom was heartbreaking to see. I literally cried seeing his reaction to revisiting his trauma in S2 and S3; I just wanted to hug and tell him how awesome he is. My only complaint with Gar in S3 was that the Outsiders weren’t established until near the end of the season.

His voice actor being Greg Cipes also gives him extra points (He’s a chill guy and radiates BB energy).

 7. Dick Grayson/Nightwing/ Robin I 

Sorry to all the hardcore Nightwing fans.

I love Dick (don’t get any ideas), but he doesn’t get enough development in the spotlight. One of the things I really wanted to see from him is his growth as a main leader, and his journey to becoming Nightwing. I was really bummed when these happened between the first two seasons.

To be honest, I don’t have as much to say about him other than straightforward qualities I enjoy about him.

1.His Voice (it’s so soothing)

2.His Personality (very charismatic)

3.Very Handsome (Probably in the top 3 my most handsome YJ Men list)

I put him higher than the others since he made a lot of contribution to the story and his new words (gotta love that aster!)

6. Megan Morse/M’gann M’orzz/Miss Martian 

If I made this list during S1, M’gann would have probably been in my top 3 (maybe even No. 1), but S2 didn’t give her any brownie points.

I really liked S1 Miss Martian because of her kind heart, awkward girl next door personality. Her trouble fitting in the beginning reminded me of when I was going through a time in high school; seeing her having trouble as well helped me feel not so lonely. M’gann powers were (still are) my favorite since I am a big fan of mind-like powers. I would feel so powerful. Watching her identity crisis(?) arc was great too. I’ve had trouble feeling comfortable in my own skin as well as my social anxiety (I’m a mess) and I could understand how scared Megan was of her friends’ thoughts on her true form. 

Oh boy. Season 2 basically ruined her. Learning what she would do to enemies was terrifying to see and left me wondering what happened to Miss Martian that made her step this far. What she almost did to Superboy was almost unforgivable. You do not try to manipulate with your boyfriend’s mind when you guys have an argument! Shame on you M’gann. If Superboy hadn’t forgiven you then I wouldn’t have either.

Good thing S3 somewhat redeemed her. Her kind heart was noticeable again and she refused to do that mind trick again (thank god). Very excited for the Superboy and Miss Martian wedding! Please creators, I beg of you to not skip over it. I want to cry my eyes out in happiness!

 5. Kaldur’ahm/Aquaman/Aqualad 

Now we’re in the top 5 with Aqualad (*ahem* Aquaman) starting it off.

Creating Kaldur was the best decision the creators ever did. I love him with all my heart!

He added diversity to the original team and was a great leader. S1 was not his breakout season, though the second season definitely was.

Kladur played the villain so well that he deserves an automatic Oscar. I never doubted that he was with the heroes, but he didn’t disappoint. My favorite part about Aqualad’s performance was when he rose from the ocean slowly like a cliché villain (he made it work), and the line he said right after he “killed” Artemis; it sent me chills. Love it! 

Pretty disappointed that he didn’t appear as much in S3. Very happy that he is a part of the LGBTQ+ community and is in a happy relationship. I’m a part of the community and loved that there was finally some representation in one of my favorite shows. Even so, I have to criticize how rushed and sidelined it was. I hope Kaldur and Wyynde’s relationship gets development.

 4. Kon-El/Conner Kent/Superboy

Like Will, I did not like Superboy at first. Mainly angry and volatile characters were never really my cup of tea. I do understand why he was upset and felt bad for him; I just handle anger the direct opposite as him. My love for Conner started growing around the end of S1. He was very sweet towards Miss Martian (bless him for not caring about her appearance) and his anger was in control.

Season 2 pretty much switched my opinions on him and M’gann. It was awful what M’gann almost did to him. That scene with him being so sad that what she did ruined that special bond they had almost made me cry. I wanted to give him a hug. He grew so much too since I don’t think he would have handled the whole M’gann drama as well in S1. A lot of furniture would’ve been broken.

I gotta admit something. I almost put Conner near the bottom (maybe no. 7). A comment in a poll in Amino changed my mind. I wrote a poll asking other fans who did they prefer SB or MM. At that point I said SB, though I didn’t think much of it. Someone (specifically yjfangirl) responded “Superboy has the best development in the show.” This had me thinking about how far SB has gone. In the beginning, Conner was an angry guy who felt alone and rejected by the person who he was meant to emulate. Now he is happier and living for himself rather than to be the next Superman. He’s getting married people! A little detail I noticed when rewatching S3 was Superboy mentioning to new characters that they weren’t obligated to be a hero because of their abilities. I adored this! The main reason why Superboy was created to be Superman if the original ever died, and another one of Luthor’s puppets. But he strayed from that pressuring path and is doing his own thing. Conner doesn’t want other people to feel like he did. What an absolute pure soul.

Also, yjfangirl, first I want to say Hi (*waves*)! Then say thanks for writing that comment. It made me really think about the bigger picture with SB and my love for him as grown exponentially. You probably didn’t mean to do that, but I still want to thank you. 😊

 3.Wally West/Kid Flash

We’re in the elites now.

I don’t know how to explain it, I just love Wally. He makes me laugh, and his character growth was great. At first, Wally was this cocky flirt who didn’t take the hero work as seriously. That changed in “Cold-hearted,” one of my favorite episodes in the series. This was when I really started seeing more of Wally than being this dumb flirt. It was great seeing him actually caring about helping people since I believed for a long time that he wanted to be a superhero to just have powers rather than actually protect others. The regret in his eyes when he thought his impulsive behavior killed Perdita helped me see who he really was- this somewhat arrogant speedster who had a kind heart. Episodes that can make me change my perspective on characters are truly special.

I was very upset that he wasn’t in S2 a lot. I understand why since he gave up the life, but I was still bummed. Seeing him being so loving and protective towards Artemis was amazing. Spitfire is my favorite ship and I will not give up on them. All I want is a happy ending! The penultimate episode of S3 was a hint that it will happen. Watching the S2 finale was heartbreaking, I cried watching him disappear, his love for Artemis being the last things he said. Artemis’ reaction did not(I just wanted to hug her). 

I have more to say, though I’m leaving it for another post. 😉

 2.Bart Allen/Kid Flash II/Impulse

Picking between Bart and Wally for second place was tough. Took me a while to decide; I’ll talk about it later on.

The moment Bart made his appearance, I absolutely adored him. He is amazing and I live for his hyper, fun attitude. His arc and relationship with Jaime were my favorite aspects of S2. What can I say, their chemistry is great to see.

That scene when he was meeting the Flash family was so adorable. His excitement was infectious and spoiling his dad and aunt’s births was hilarious! I watch it occasionally whenever I need a good laugh or reason to smile.

Unlike most time travelers- at least the ones I’ve seen- Bart was very involved with what was going on and befriended his biggest enemy- evil and weirdly huge future Blue Beetle. He was pretty careful about disclosing very important information and took things very seriously. You never know if disclosing everything was the thing that brought the world to chaos.

What I found interesting was his choice on how to interact with everyone. He seemed pretty gloomy in the future, but decided to portray this cheerful, devil-may-care attitude to be more likable. I understood (still kind of do). I had terrible mental health issues and I pretended to be happy in front of loved ones because I thought they wouldn’t care about me anymore. Bart got some brownie points for that.

I was dissatisfied when his role was greatly reduced. I wanted the creators to go further with Bart by revealing his past and how it affected him. He was pretty much comedy relief. You couldn’t imagine how disappointed I was, especially with it involving my second favorite character. Season 4 better change that.

I know that you shouldn’t assume a character’s sexuality, yet I really hope Bart is gay. There needs to be more clear representation and Bart can be one of them. I’m also a Bluepulse and Bartuado shipper (fine with either one as long as Bart’s bond with each of them stays strong).

Anyway, I mentioned that I would explain why I chose Bart for 2nd place over Wally. It mostly stems from wishful thinking. I really want S4 to have Bart as a main character since I believe the future will be strong plot point in the season. Development could surely happen such as Bart opening up more about what he went through. Let all those feelings go.

I’m going to write an article on my hopes for S4 when a release date is announced. Bart and Wally will most definitely be talked about.

 …..

We are finally near the end!

And my No. 1 favorite character is…

Drumroll please!

…

..

.

1.Artemis Crock/Tigress/Artemis

That’s right people!

Artemis Crock, original member of the Team and daughter of villains!

She is such an inspiration to anyone who wants to go their own past without their parents’ support.

It’s hard to describe how much I love Artemis. She’s brave, strong-willed, and a kind person. It’s crazy how great of a person she is after all the terrible things that happened to her. I look up to her because I don’t have a healthy relationship with my parents (verbal and mental abuse) and there are times I don’t feel strong enough to stand on my own. I want to carry the amount of strength Artemis has as my own.

After all that happened in S2, it was amazing to see Artemis come back to the team and train the new generation. It must have been hard to walk away from a safe, comfortable life for a chaotic, dangerous life. I admire that in everyone, but I hold more respect for Artemis since “the life” “killed” Wally. I wanted to hug her so bad.

She’s also one of the kindest people in the show, the events in S3 being the best example. When Zatanna was crying about her dad, Artemis was there to comfort her. It was so sweet! Roy and her also took in Halo and Terra like they were a part of the family; the archer treated them like the best big sister. That rainstorm scene was heartwarming to the core.

Wouldn’t Artemis be an amazing mother? Lian and her have a strong bond like a mother and daughter; I loved it, and Lian is in good hands with Roy and Artemis. Though Jade deserves a chance to be a mother. Artemis also seemed to enjoy taking care of those kids in that S1 episode. Wally too. You guys know what I’m guys insinuating. 😉

Get ready for some fanfics on that someday.

My favorite Artemis-centered episode was the second to last episode of S3. I was waiting for this episode centering around Artemis missing Wally and learning to move on. It was great yet heartbreaking. Nothing bad happened. That Will and Artemis kiss never happened. Everyone makes a mistake. No matter how terrible it was.

Anyway, seeing Artemis and Wally living their lives and having a baby gave me life, even if it was fake. It was a vision of the future. I will believe this until there is confirmation that Wally will not come back.

Did anyone else cry when Artemis was so desperate to, but Wally wouldn’t let that happen (the real Wally would do that)? They are a great example of a healthy relationship with all the love and support they have for each other. I want that.

#artemis young justice #artemis crock #wally x artemis #bart allen #impulse #Wally West #kid flash #Superboy #bluepulse #bartuardo #top 10 list #top 10 favorites #top 10 #kaldur #kaldur'ahm #aqualad #conner kent #kon el #kaldur x wyynde #miss martian #M'gann M'orzz #megan morse #dick grayson #nightwing #garfield logan #beast boy #young justice outsiders #young justice cartoon #Young Justice #red arrow

[lovecolibri]

Things that did NOT Spark Joy-3x10

So there was very little about this episode that DIDN’T spark joy (what a fun experience!) I’ve gotta say, having a tighter plot, giving us answers to questions we’ve been asking, showing instead of telling us important moments, and not having all the characters bending over backwards and twisting themselves around to prop up m*ria, all helped me to be more willing to gloss over the things that maybe didn’t make as much sense because I was having SUCH a good time, which you can read about here. But there’s always room for improvement so here is the (much shorter than usual) “salt” post. 

Still missing my babies Rosa and Lucky! 😭😭😭

Baby Heath is on my shit list for trash-talking Hufflepuffs. Get it together, kid. Puffs are where it’s at. Pretty sure Dallas ended up being one 🤣

The timeline for the show is still a little wonky with Michael talking about being 9 when he was burned during an exorcism at the fundamentalist foster home, but in 1x06 he was 13 and showing the fresh burn to Max. I’m just begging for someone in this writers room to make a white board with a timeline on it. Please.

I’m still weirded out by the fact that Anatsa was sleeping with Max like, less than two weeks ago. Not that it’s a knock against Anatsa (get it girl), but more of a knock against rooting for the ship. Which is a bummer because they’re actually pretty cute, but I just can’t get past the Max thing. Also, they can’t give us all that amazing Kybel content and expect us to not want more of that.

Speaking of Kyle, I’m still banging pots and pans over no one talking about him or being concerned while he was missing, and the second he’s back on screen suddenly Isobel has been worried about him and glad he’s not dead? Where was all this concern for him when he was missing and they didn’t know where he was and he could have been dead. The writers NEED to do better with friendships and what they do when an actor is missing in an episode. It should not be this hard.

Dumbing down characters to make the plot work always annoys me, and Liz leaving her research out for Jones to find was bad enough but her leaving her entire research bag in Kyle’s office instead of carting it around with her so she can make more notes as she thinks of things will never not bother me. I just can’t imagine Liz NOT wanting to have her research on hand so she can write down any ideas she has. Her and Max have been spending a lot of time in the car, you can’t tell me she wasn’t working on the formula she’s trying to beat Jones into figuring out.

I’m a little confused about what exactly is wrong with Dallas because he doesn’t seem to be suffering from a deadly brain disease. They had this issue with m*ria as well, telling us the powers were destroying her mind, but not showing her struggling or anyone else pointing out she was acting weird, or forgetting things. I’m hoping we’ll see some of this issues in the next few episodes to ramp up the tension and Heath’s drive to save his friend.

The Malex this episode was SOOOO GOOD, but I’m definitely side-eyeing the show for giving this episode a “sexual content” rating for that blip of mostly blurry Malex, when we all had to suffer through not just m*ria and Greg moaning, and trashing some poor kid’s camp lobby, but also m*ria making gross innuendos about the state of Greg’s erectile functioning (though to be fair, as I told @michael-runs-hot-guerin, part of that is because I don’t like m*ria and I hate her and Greg together and what’s been done to his character because of forcing them together. Because if Isobel interrupted Michael while he was with Alex and he made an “over hard” joke specifically to gross out Isobel it would have been hilarious so 🤷‍♀️) BUT, if I had to see m*ria and Greg tearing each other's clothes off and that didn't earn an S rating, then we all deserved to see Michael tenderly removing Alex's shirt and Alex removing the bandana as they sensually make out and make sweet tender love for the first time in literal years. Come on. If you’re gonna give something a sexual content rating, than we deserved to see some sexual content! Also, you KNOW Vlamis and Tyler were on board. Release the tapes, Vlamis!

#roswell nm #season 3 spoilers #3x10 #things that did not spark joy #anti maria deluca #anti delmanes

[blueberrysets]

EXPLORING SONGS: HOW THE SUN TEMPTED ME

pairing: timeskip!tsukishima x f!reader

genre: fluff and angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol use, depression, grief, angst

word count:  3,343

summary: after the death of his best friend, tsukishima swore to never speak a word about that night and to not even mutter his name again. he would rather stay angry at himself for the rest of his life than to think about that incident. yet, it haunts him in his dreams and in his every day to day life. until the lovable roommate of his seems to show more care towards him than anyone else in his life.   

song to play: fine line by harry styles

an: yay!! this is my first installment in my writing collection of exploring songs! I’m super excited to keep writing for this and diving deep into the lyrics of the music. I hope you enjoy and let me know if you would like to be in the tag list for future installments!

masterlist!

taglist: @emiyummy @nyelsy​

In the five stages of grief, tsukishima seems to be stuck on the second stage; anger. He’s been that way for the past four years since he lost his best friend. it’s a relentless anger that is directed to anyone who happens to irritate him just slightly. he finds himself having to hold his tongue while an annoying little kid asks him a dumb question while he’s explaining fossils. he used to love their curiosity and would lend a hand to teach them. his anger starts at the bottom of his feet, flowing all the way up to the middle of his throat. having him choke slightly at the ball of frustration blocking his airways.

yet the one thing he can’t get rid of, is his annoying lovable roommate.

“tsukki!” her voice rings out, bouncing off the walls of the bustling museum. her arms stretched way above her head as she waves him down, a bright smile lighting up her face as her cheeks and the tip of her nose are rosy from the winter air outside.

tsukishima finds the corners of his mouth raising slightly at the sight. it’s not a new one, she’s always there for his lunch break so they can eat together. always making food and coming to his work with a bento that has his name on it. the slight smile stays for a second, but is soon replaced with his familiar scowl. he makes his way over to her, hands shoved in his khaki pants. his worker ID hanging around his neck on a lanyard, irritating the back of his neck and bumping against his dark brown sweater. 

her office attire is covered by a long, black peacoat and a thick, tan scarf paired with it. her hands lower as he gets closer to her, but her smile doesn’t falter. the familiar big purse filled with the contents of their lunch is hanging off her shoulder, the same color as her scarf. she calls it her “mom purse,” stating how she can literally carry anything in there. if only he could take his grief and place it in there as well. 

“look at you,” tsukishima snickers, “finally dressing appropriately for the weather.”

a look of annoyance replaces her smile, he feels himself missing it already. her hand winds back to land a slap right onto his bicep. he couldn’t help but laugh even more at her reaction. it’s fun to tease her, especially when she gets pouty. 

“keep saying stuff like that and i’ll stop making you lunches,” she grumbles as she sticks her tongue out at him.

“you and i both know you won’t,” he shrugs. 

“shut up, i hate when you’re right,” she mumbles again, pushing the straps of her purse higher up on her shoulder as she walks to where his break room is. 

a hearty laugh leaves his lips as his head is thrown back. his shoulders rising up and down as the laugh takes over his body. it stops y/n in her place to look back and take in the sight. seeing the pure joy covering his face as he laughs, it's a sight she doesn’t want to miss. so, she halts in her tracks and admires him. but before he could notice, she turns back around and continues her way to the break room. but how odd was it, to know that he only laughs that genuinely around her. 

the clicking sound of her heels now echo off the walls, and he follows the noise all the way to the familiar staff break room. she clunks her purse down on the dull, wooden table that sits in the middle of the room. to the left of it is a kitchenette area with counters, a refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, and sink. to the right are various vending machines and printers. she places the two bentos and two pairs of chopsticks onto the table before dropping her bulky bag next to her chair. she unravels her scarf and shrugs off her coat before hanging them on the back of her chair.

it’s annoying how frustratingly beautiful she is, without even trying. her black skirt fits her curves nicely and goes great with her favorite maroon turtleneck sweater. the black tights that cover her skin from the cold air transition nicely into her black high heel boots. her hair in its natural state as her face is adorned with work-suited make up. yet, his favorite look on her would have to be the casual clothes she lounges in at home. 

he takes his usual seat across from her, sitting down and grabbing the chopsticks that were set nicely next to his bento box. he breaks them apart before unwrapping and opening his meal. but stops his movements to see her loosely putting her hair into a bun before she eats. stating that it keeps it from annoyingly falling in her face as she eats, another habit that he can’t seem to stop gushing over. they sit in silence as they start to eat, it’s a comfortable silence. one that is usually filled with the humming from the printer.

“how’s work been today?” she asks with her mouth slightly full, her gaze on her food as she continues to shovel it into her mouth.

“the usual, how about you?” he softly asks as he picks at his food, “is that greg guy still bothering you? you know i can sort that out for you.”

she lets out a snort, setting her chopsticks down as she wipes her hands on her skirt. chewing her food completely and swallowing before she replies. 

“i’m a big girl, I can handle it,” she states in a sassy manner, her gaze meeting him from across the table, “but no, he’s not.”

“good,” he answers shortly, briefly meeting her gaze before it’s redirected back down to his food. 

she clears her throat as she picks up her chopsticks again, returning to quickly eating. their lunch time together is short as she has to catch another train back to her office in a different part of the city. he’s told her multiple times that she doesn’t have to do this, that he’s perfectly capable of having lunch by himself. but she insists, and he’s glad that she still does. perhaps, he doesn’t like being alone. 

“i can’t believe it’s already december 12th,” she mumbles, mostly to herself, “it’s getting close to christmas, i’m not even done shopping yet.”

while the statement of the date is an innocent remark, it stills has tsukishima freezing his movements as the breath gets caught in his throat. he slowly places his hands back down on the table and slightly pushes the bento box away from him, no longer hungry. 

well, it’s official. 

today marks five years since his best friend's death.

“tsukki,” her voice breaks through to his ears as his eyes snap open and his body being shaken by her, “tsukki!”

his breathing is rigid as his hands grip onto her arms, the covers thrown off of him as he feels the hot tears streaming down his face. his eyes scan his surroundings in his semi dark room, the only source of light being his bedside lamp. his glasses are placed on the bedside table and his clock shows that it’s currently 1:23 am. then his eyes finally land on her. 

her hair messy from her bed head and her eyes holding a look of concern. her hands slide from his chest up to his face, wiping away the tears that continue to fall from his eyes. he’s confused, throat dry and raw.

“you were screaming,” she whispers softly, one hand leaving his face as she runs it through his hair, “i think you were having a nightmare.”

it hits him. he was. memories of that fateful night replaying in his mind, over and over again. always the same outcome, always him being too late. he squeezes his closed, more tears leaving his eyes as does. yet the gentle touches from her hands wipe them away.

“do you want to talk about it?” she asks gently, causing him to slowly open his eyes to connect with hers. 

he shakes his head no.

“that’s okay,” she nods, “whenever you want to, just know that i’m here. let me get you some water.”

she stands up, turning to leave to walk to the kitchen. his hand latches onto hers, stopping her from leaving. she turns around, her gaze soft as she looks down at their hands then back to his face. he swallows, this is very out of character for him. but he doesn’t want to be alone. 

“will you stay with me?” he gasps out, shyly lowering his gaze, “just for the night.”

her thumb caresses his hand before she gives it a gentle squeeze.

“of course, i’ll stay for as long as you need,” she coos, “let me get you water, then i’ll come to bed.”

he nods his head, releasing his grip on her hand. she turns and walks out of the room, her bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. the sound fades out as he is left with his own thoughts again. he lays back down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. his eyes dry from the tears and his head throbbing for some sleep. yet he can’t go to sleep, he doesn’t want to see it again. he can’t keep seeing that night again. it’ll tear him apart more than it already is. 

before his thoughts could get even more jumbled together, she finally returned with a glass of fresh water. she sets it on his nightstand before crawling into bed next to him, pulling the covers up with her. he turns over to grab the cup, taking a few sips to soothe his throat. he sets it back down and turns off the lamp. he flops back down onto his back. a hand laying underneath his head as he stares at the moonlight leaking in through his window. then he feels her, her arm thrown over his waist as her head lays on his chest and her legs tangle with his.

his heart swells at the contact. it was at this moment, that he knew he could trust her with anything. despite his snarky remarks, silent grief, and witty attitude; she decided to stay with him. how lucky can one get?

“i’m not sure if i’m ready to fully tell you everything yet,” he explains softly, one of his hands drawing circles on her arm, “but just know that things would’ve been different if i was there before…”

“nonsense,” she cuts him off, her face still buried in his chest, “fate works in mysterious ways, kei. sometimes it does shit that seems so unfair, so heartbreaking. we can’t help but blame ourselves sometimes. yet, it’s not your fault. things happen for a reason whether we like it or not. you could’ve prevented it then, but who's to say it wouldn’t just happen later on? stop being so hard on yourself, instead take time to heal from whatever hurt you.”

another tear falls at her words, but god how relieving it was to be on stage three; bargaining.

he was so tired of being angry.

“i’m going out!” he remembers her saying as she struggles to pull her high heel onto her foot, “don’t wait up for me, i’ll text you when i’m on my way home!”

yet it’s morning, and there was no text. no call, no text from her friends; there's just nothing. he paces the living room, frantically calling her number over and over. his hair a mess with how many times his hands had run through it. his pajamas fitting loosely on his skinny body, he has lost some weight hasn’t he? 

“pick up, pick up,” he whispers to himself as his bottom lip is being nervously gnawed at, “y/n pick up, damnit.”

voicemail, again. he aggressively pushes the red button to hang up, harshly throwing his phone onto the couch. he grips the edge of the sofa, his foot tapping anxiously as he tries to wrack his brain around what is happening. where was she? if she got hurt wouldn't he get a call from the hospital? or if it was something else, wouldn’t her friends or the police station call him? he is her emergency contact, he should be hearing something! what if she got kidnapped? maybe that’s why no one has told him anything. what if-

the sound of the front door being unlocked and opening interrupts his thoughts. he whips his head in the direction of the noise to see her walk in. she wears clothes that seem to be her friends as she holds her heels in her hand. she sets them on the ground gently, not wanting to make much noise so she doesn’t wake him. 

“where the hell were you?” he asks loudly, causing her to jump from the surprise.

“oh!” she exclaims, “i spent the night at a friends place, but my phone died. sorry i didn’t text you.”

“you didn’t think of maybe having a friend text me?” he asks in a snarky tone, angrily walking over to her, “i was worried sick, y/n!”

“i’m sorry,” she laughs, “i didn’t think it would’ve been that big of a deal.”

“not a big deal?” he sneers, his hands gripping her biceps in a tight hold, “what if something happened to you, huh?”

“kei, let go,” she warns, “your grip hurts.”

“i can’t lose another important person, y/n!” he yells, taking in a sharp breath at what he just said. 

“another?” she questions, her gaze more confused than angry now. 

“forget it,” he mumbles as reaches behind her to grab his coat. shoving his feet into his shoes before walking out the front door, slamming it right in her face. 

onto stage four: depression.

the last person he expected to see waiting for him at the end of his shift, would be her. her black peacoat contrasting with the red scarf wrapped around her neck. the scarf looking bulky against her frame, but comfortable. they haven’t had a conversation in two weeks, an awkward environment surrounds them since that morning. they kept to their assigned rooms in the apartment, yet she showed more compassion for him than he thought she would. she still set food outside his door, still packed him lunches, still did his laundry, or cleaned his room since he lacked motivation to do anything. opening his eyes felt like a chore lately, yet she still supported him silently. 

“come with me,” she said softly, reaching a hand out to him, “i’m taking you somewhere.”

his eyes are wide, filled with curiosity and confusion at the current situation. yet he still reached his hand towards her mitten-covered one and held onto it. he let her pull him along with her. following her to the train station, sitting patiently for their stop, then following her off the train. their hands never once letting go. he was afraid that if he did, she would disappear in thin air. truly, leaving him completely alone. 

she pulled him all the way to the beach, the waves slightly frozen as they crash into the rocky shores. she pulls him up onto a big rock ledge, sitting down once they reach the top. her legs dangling off the edge and the golden rays of the setting sun hitting her face. tsukishima was still standing, looking out at the perfect view of the sunset. but then averting his eyes to his own person sun sitting on the rock. he follows along and sits next to her, the harsh wind from the ocean hitting both of their faces. 

“i asked your brother about what happened,” she states over the sounds of the waves, “about yamaguchi.”

he lets out a shaky breath at the mention of that name, one he promised himself he wouldn’t say. for his own sanity, he wouldn’t mention that name again. 

“you did?” he asked quietly. 

“i did,” she states confidently, “and i want to apologize.”

he rips his eyes from the view to look at her, meeting her gaze that was already on him. confusion written all over his face. 

“i should’ve texted you that night, given you some indication of where i was. something to at least ease your mind,” she explains, her voice sounding like she was pleading for him to forgive her. all of this time, they both blamed themselves for the situation, “but i had no idea what you have gone through, but now that i do i completely regret my actions.”

tsukishima swallows hard as he looks down at his hands that rest in his lap. so she knows, and now she probably knows that he’s a huge fuck up. he took a few deep breaths, preparing himself for the conversation. 

“how long have you known,” he starts, “about him.”

“about a week,” she whispers, “i didn’t have the heart to bring it up to you, i wasn’t sure how you would react. but then, i’ve seen the grief and guilt eating at you slowly. i can't stand to see you like that anymore, kei.” 

“he called me,” he whispers, lifting his gaze up to her eyes. tears welling up in his eyes, “he called me that night asking for a ride, drunk. i remember that i was so annoyed by that call, that i didn’t leave right away. deciding that five more minutes of sleep was more important than my friend getting home safely. when i finally left and went to pick him up, the other guests said he left with someone else. then i get the call the next morning, the call that he was… well, you know.”

she scoots closer to him, placing her hands on his face. meeting his eyes with such intensity and care, he didn’t deserve her. the tears ran down his face, seeing who would get to the finish line the quickest. his body shakes from the sobs as he finally talks about that night after five years of avoiding it. 

“this isn’t your fault, kei,” she says slowly, meaning every word.

“but if I just left right away-“

“he would’ve still had time to accept that ride,” she states, her eyes full of certainty, “he knew the risk, everyone does when it comes to alcohol. yet, he still said yes. he could’ve said no, you already told him that you would come pick him up. he left you, you didn’t abandon him.”

“i don’t deserve you,” he sobs out, “i really don’t. you’re like the sun, tempting me to be happy with what i did.”

“i’m not trying to make you feel happy about what you did,” she explains as she uses her mittened hand to wipe his tears, “i want you to accept that what happened, happened. there were mistakes made, yes, but you can't change it now. what you can do, is live in his memory. live life for him, and dedicate every waking day to him.”

“i love you,” he gasps out, “i really do, you sunshine. you temptress. so please, if i’m gonna do this i want you to be there with me.”

a smile breaks out on her face, laughing slightly. for once, his eyes weren’t full with the hardening gaze of sadness and guilt. but bright and full of love, and how she longed for that gaze to be shown her way. 

“i’m not going anywhere, kei,” she smiles, “and i love you too.”

his arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him, lowering his head to capture her in a kiss. the sun is almost gone behind the horizon now, yet the glow from his own sunshine blinds him with love. tempting him to deepen the kiss as their grips on each other tighten.

he was right, he doesn’t like being alone.

it seems that he’s not anymore. 

#haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq headcanons #hq x you #hq fanfic #hq imagines #hq fluff #hq angst #hq scenarios #hq smut #hq #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima scenarios #hq tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x you #tskuishima #tsukishima kei imagine

[terrence-silver]

Okay, since you're clearly into William Zabka (among others), Karate Kid, the 80's AND bad guys as a whole, you should write some headcanons for a Yandere! Greg Tolan from Just One of the Guys (1985)?

- The more he likes you, the more antagonistic he tends to get with you, especially if you don’t fit the stereotypical mold of what a popular, handsome, muscular jock like him should date - but, even if you do - all the better, not that it makes a difference, in the long run - he views you, initially, like a cute little chew toy he’d just adore to squeeze, pester and intimidate just for the sheer sadistic fun of it. You know that feeling when something’s just so irresistibly fluffy and soft and you just have the subconscious, intrusive primal urge smother it to death with your bare hands? No? Yeah, well, that’s because you’re not Greg Tolan in love.

- Furthermore, the line between bullying and being enamoured for him is pretty blurred as such. He shoves you around, pulls your hair, teases you, mocks you, pinches you - but, so help me, if anyone else tries to he’ll be in their face about it pretty quick. Because you’re his turf. Even bullying you is something he feels is only his right and privilege to do, and nobody else’s - you’re his favourite person to bother in school and mainly because he’s a petty, macho dummie who can’t express his affections properly, so he’ll make sure to stay etched in your memory and preoccupy all your thoughts the only way he knows how; by being a jerk he won’t allow you to forget.

- Tends to arrogantly, dismissively and pretty boisterously scoff at your interests, your likes, your dislikes, your hobbies, you talents. Makes it seem like it’s all dumb nonsense to him, but he also has a suspicious amount of knowledge about literally everything you’re into. And everything you’re not into. To an almost creepy degree. That band you like? Yeah, Greg knows all about it in tiny details and he thinks it’s stupid. That project you’re working on? Yeah, Greg’s informed on that too and the thinks the progress you’re making is trite. You also wore uhh yellow socks with your uhh size so-and-so sneakers yesterday and they had a print on them that Greg thought looked really dumb too.

- Does desperately want your approval, though. Is pretty starved for it, in fact. Greg Tolan probably doesn’t pine for anyone’s admiration as much as he does for yours and that’s where his insecurity and vulnerability comes in. He wants you to admire his looks. His physique. His athletic skills. The way he lifts. Everything. And he’ll get it out of you any way he knows how. By putting himself on your way. By humblebragging. By showing off. By flirting and then pretending it’s merely a prank. A joke. Even by projecting when he cruelly teases you that you’re into him. Someone who’s so out of your league. Poor you. In reality, it’s actually him who’s awfully into you. He really just wants that idea in your mind. You and him together. If he has to plant the seed via a joke, then so be it.

- Oh, my though - does he get jealous! Does he ever! Some dude talked to you in the cafeteria? Someone complemented your outfit? Someone even vaguely expressed the randomest desire of asking you out? Someone voiced their liking of you, even if only platonic? Hooo, boy! You don’t even have to be his for him to feel like all these people are trespassing on something that’s already his in his mind. He perhaps doesn’t even know why or doesn’t wanna admit to it even to himself, but he gets irrationally fired up when he hears people speaking about you. Everything within him screams that that’s his person, and naturally, he’ll express it in a typical Greg Tolan way; by throwing whoever dared to bring you up across the school hallway.

- But, for all his shortcomings, somehow, in some way, Greg is always close by. He always tries to engage with you, even if mockingly. Even if annoyingly. He’s always tailing behind you. Always in your personal space. Always stealing things out of your locker or backpack (which he keeps) - goading you to chase him. Practically forcing you to dedicate time and attention to him, even if you don’t want to. For someone who claims not to like you, he sure as heck lingers around you constantly, even if he’s currently dating someone else. In fact, he’ll probably invest more time in pestering you then being a boyfriend to whoever he’s with.

- Undoubtedly got in fights over you. Several times, I’d say. In fact, I imagine it’s a common occurrence with Greg. You yourself, the object of his arguments with other students, never know why he got into a fight or what was the exact reason behind it; long story short, it’s always you. Someone plans asking you out to prom and Greg overhears it in the locker-room he’ll probably tear into this person so badly that everyone else will probably be too afraid of even considering asking you out again. He’d rather you go alone or not at all then  with someone he considers a threat. Or even better - go out with him instead. He’ll make it seem like he’s doing it out of obligation or pity - making jokes at the expense of the situation he himself orchestrated. But, really deep down, he’s ecstatic.

#greg tolan #just one of the guys #yandere #anon request

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

4x12 - GSR fix-it fic

(A/N:  What the motherfuck- TUMBLR HAS A TEXT BLOCK LIMIT?!!!! UUUGGGHHH!!!! I guess this is gonna have to be in two parts. But, I guess...this whole thing is pushing 9000 words, so I'll split it 4500-4500. Yeah. I'm as tired as Gil now. I'm gonna go sleep with him. I was inspired to write this after watching that video.  Anyways, they're actually together in this one.  Aka when Gil FINALLY goes home, he can rest his forehead on Sara's and reassure himself that she's actually still okay, and that she's actually still right there, with him.  Because I crave this for them.  So, there are many and heavy contextual changes. Fyi, I'm not writing out every single piece of dialogue/action, hell no.  I'm just writing whatever's relevant to GSR. Oh and, warning - canon-typical ns/fw

{I'm sorry about the formatting but I would like to give} Special thanks to @addictedtostorytelling for...basically saving my ass with all the details of this fic. Thank you for answering my questions, no matter how inane, dumb, unnecessary, or worse. And of course @stokes-theorem got me out of a panic attack; it is much appreciated 🙏)

Gil walked through the house of the 419 of the night, having had to put protective coverings over his shoes so that he did not disturb any evidence he might accidentally step on. He had to keep his back to the wall and walk sideways as well. (The sound of his footsteps were adorable.) As he passed the spare bedroom, he noticed that the victim possessed a collection of butterfly-resembling trinkets, all displayed nicely on her shelf. He made it to the area of event at last, squatting down to take a closer look at the body.

His eyebrows jumped up in shock - the victim had a strong resemblance to Sara. For a few moments longer, he stared at his (secret) girlfriend's image, a dozen thoughts swirling around in his head but never aligning themselves. It was his unfailing sense of duty that allowed him to literally get his head upright and get back to his team, who was waiting outside. But when he opened the door, the very person in his line of sight was Sara; again he stared, this time at her actual self. Inside, there was a dead body, who looked so like her, but here she was, living, breathing and- turning her head to stare right back at him. But the one's gaze held such a different meaning from the other's.

Jim, who was past Sara in Grissom's line of sight, thought that he was the one the team leader wanted to see, so he stepped between the scientists. "Ready for us?"

"For now, no one enters this house except CSI."

[CUE THE INTRO]

Gil assigned Warrick to the car, but he assigned Sara to the perimeter, to which she shook her head in disbelief and questioned, "What? You just did a one hour walk-through. The perimeter cannot be a priority." On 'not', she shrugged and laughed wryly.

His gaze immediately turned beseeching. "I need you to work the outside. Catherine and I will be inside." He momentarily shifted his eyes in the direction of the door at the last bit but immediately looked back at her, his eyes even more pleading. Sara gave him an 'alright, fine' smile and went to do as he said.

Gil did not examine the car, but there was a fair chance that it would yield a fair amount of evidence. However, he had, as Sara remarked, gone over the perimeter, so he knew that Sara's scouring of it would bear no fruit. He deliberately did this; he wanted to dissociate Sara from the case as much as possible, in his own little way.

While Catherine went to interrogate the victim's friend, Gil took the opportunity to go back and stare the body for a bit longer.  He was (understandably) haunted that the 419 looked like the love of his life.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear Catherine walk in behind him; his head flinched to the side when she spoke, "One thing I can never get over with this job: anything can happen to anybody."

Gil clicked his tongue and responded, "That's why we're here," before going back to looking over the corpse.

Soon enough, Sara was let in a little more on the action when she had to crawl under the house and unscrew a pipe running from the bathroom to get the water that had been drained into it, as well as process the actual pipe.  However, Gil insisted that she was to return to the laboratory and test just those pieces of evidences as soon as she was done; his intent was that she would be occupied with something appertaining to the case but not in such a major capacity, thus satisfying her curiosity if only on a temporal basis.  Gil and Sara did not know it, but when she looked up into the pipe, Gil happened to be spraying luminol onto it on the other side.  (A/N:  Can I just take a moment to appreciate the cinematography here?  As well as the music <3)

The bugs helped the bug man out again; flies swarmed the dustbins that had pieces of corpse inside them.

After those were sent back to Al and David, Gil went back inside the house.  This time, he examined the victim's collection of synthetic butterflies.  He was turning over one that was blue, translucent, and had a base so that it could stand, a thoughtful frown on his forehead.  If Sara had been there to see him, she would have kissed it away.  He put the butterfly down and picked up a framed picture of Debbie.  With her arms straight up in the air and an open-mouthed smile that showed her top row of teeth, it was evident that she had been jubilant at the time of photography.  Gil shook his head; not because he pitied the loss of her joy, but because he was once again struck by her likeness to the greatest joy in his own life.  He tore his eyes away from the photo and looked at himself in the mirror, trying to collect himself.

But the adverse was achieved, because the bed was visible in the mirror, and he envisioned the victim sitting on it facing away from him, alive and well.  She then looked over her shoulder at him; the image was replaced with that of Sara.

Grissom clenched his jaw.  He stiffly tilted his head to one side, his gaze at himself hardening.  All in an reinforced effort to steel himself.

He was forcibly yanked out of his thoughts when his phone rang; his head flinched a little way in its direction while his eyes flickered down to it.  He picked it up and manage to announce in his normal voice, "Grissom."

"Hey!"  came the voice of the very woman who plagued him so, her voice cheery; she had dismissed any offence she had felt earlier from her mind and forgiven him, just being happy to hear from her man.

But her voice made him drop his mouth open in shock. Restraining the last of his resolve from flying out the window, he said, "Sara.  Uuuuhhh listen I'm in a bad area, I'll call you back."  He deliberately raised his voice a little to make his lie more believable.

Even though he could not see her, she gave a little nod; physical embodiment of her acknowledgment.  She responded by raising her voice just as he did when he next spoke.  "I got a skin tag off the bathroom drain pipe."

"Skin tag.  That's great.  Uh, give it to Greg."

"Yeah I did.  Hey do you want me to come over there and give you a hand?"

"No I'm-I'm-I'm fine," he stuttered, his free hand moving up then down again, as if he was physically dismissing (his emotions besides) her offer.  "I'll-i'll-i'll- uh...I'll talk to you back at the lab."  He immediately hung up after that.  He raised his head to glare at himself; he needed to force himself to push whatever emotions he had aside so that he could focus on the case.

As for Sara, she frowned in concern, but went on brushing what she put down as his typical eccentricity aside and went to help Warrick out with Michael Clark's car.  A third party would have enjoyed watching them work, especially with John M.  Keane's music.

After that, Sara and Warrick convened with Catherine in the break room to go over the course of the physical events of the murder.  Grissom joined remotely by holding his pager to his ear with one hand, while the break room's table had a speaker that his phone was tapped into; it was certainly much easier to communicate with Sara remotely and in a group where he could avoid speaking directly to her instead of communing in private where he literally had to face her.  Since Grissom was at the house, he walked through it himself in accordance with his team's narration.  When Sara spoke, he had to tilt his phone away from his ear, catching himself tripping again.  Since he was at the scene of the crime, he narrated how the deed was done.  As always, he had been envisioning the actual events, so it was difficult for him to picture such a thing happening Sara's likeness, but he pulled through; he did pause for extremely brief moments, and those could be put down perfectly as him taking time to think.

Sara, Catherine and Warrick finally went home after one and a half shifts.  As Sara approached the door to her and Gil's place, she could hear Hank scratching at it.  She smiled and opened the door. "Hey!" she called at the same time that Hank barked. Hank then stepped behind her and sniffed the air. "He's not here," Sara told him, gently pushing him inside with one hand and holding her kit with the other.  She sat on the couch and directed him to sit next to her.  She took her phone out of her pocket and showed it to him.  "We'll call him, huh?"  Hank had come to understand that that little slab of plastic with an area that would light up was something that humans used to communicate with each other.  There were frequent occasions when one of his humans was away, and the other would hold this object in between him and them.  Then, when the human pressed some things that made beeping sounds, there would be a certain tone for a while until the other human's voice could be heard from it; this was one such occasion.

Sometimes however, the other human's voice would not be heard.  In those cases, he and the human would just bark or speak into the slab by themselves.  After several hours, the slab would start up with a ringing sound, and when the human made a beep, the other human's voice could be heard.  He would always bark joyfully then and wag his tail.

So Hank smiled at Sara, tongue hanging out as he panted eagerly.  He watched and listened as she made the slab beep, and a tone followed.  Not too long after, the tone ended, and was replaced with a, "Grissom." He had had to turn away from the area of wall he was swabbing and take the phone out of his inner breast pocket.

Hank immediately started barking into the object, letting his human know that he was excited to hear from him and missed him.  Both humans giggled.  (At least Hank managed to cheer Gil up for a little bit.)  Sara absentmindedly ran her other hand down his ear as she waited for him to stop barking so that she could have her turn at speaking. The dog was aware of this, and let his mother have her turn in due time. "We miss you," she smiled.

He sounded forlorn as he answered, "I know... I miss you too...but I have to finish this." He was frowning sadly, and his shoulders were slumped. Sara thought that he was sad because he regretted not being able to come home to her. While this was true, he had another reason: that he had to deal with...this. And it was not that he had to deal with it; it was something that he had taken upon himself to. All he wanted was to protect his Sara, even if it meant hiding (fortunately minor) details of the case from her, and foregoing sleep altogether.

"Why not come home? Take a break. And you can continue tomorrow," she tried to coax him.

He shook his head even though she could not see him. "No. You go ahead without me," he said woefully.

She frowned in concern. "We gotta stop doing this." She was referring to the fact that they often stayed up for the whole day to work on cases instead of getting sleep.

"I know, I know," he sighed, his free hand squeezing his temples. "I promise I'll get more sleep after this case, okay?"

There was a period of silence when Sara nodded. "Okay," she said genially.

She heard her boyfriend huff a sigh; he dipped his head defeatedly when he did that. "Look, I-i-i'm sorry," he stuttered for the second phone call from her in a row.

She shook her head, "Don't be. It's alright. I'm guilty of the same thing." As well as she could hear that he was in dire need of sleep, she would not force him to since he did not want to. Plus, there was no way she could get Gil to come home without people questioning as to how she managed to get through to the stubborn workaholic; suspicion would be raised as to the true extent of their relationship.  He was at a loss as to what to say.  So, she rescued him as usual, "I'll see you back at the lab?"

He felt as if there were chains around his body that had just been loosened. Finally, something he could answer honestly! He felt as if he was ripping them off as he answered, "I don't think so. I still have to process the carpet-"

"The carpet?! Gil, that thing runs over every inch of floor!!!" Hank, who had been contently resting his head on Sara's lap, jerked his head up at the sudden interjection.

"I know," he groaned slightly, the vocalisation coming more naturally now that he was free. The boxer lay his head back down. "It has to be done though."

She nodded before saying, "I know. Don't run yourself into the ground, okay? I mean," here he could hear her snicker, "no more than you usually do."

For the first time in over a day, he smiled. A small but genuine smile that made the corners of his storm blue eyes crinkle endearingly; if Sara was there to see it, she would have kissed him. "I'll try not to." And, ah, how nice - she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Take care of yourself. Remember to eat at least. I love you."

"I'll try. I love you too. I love you Hank!" His head jerked up again and enthusiastic barking ensued. The humans followed suit with more giggling before they hung up. With his spirits lifted anew from his conversation with Sara, he pocketed his phone and got back to work with a little more energy than he had before.

As for Sara, she put a hand on Hank's head and said, "Well boy, let's go and eat some breakfast huh?"  He gave a cheery bark and jumped off the couch.  Sara closed and locked the door, carried her kit and followed him down the stairs.  She hurried to put her kit away and then popped back to the kitchen to set out Hank's food, and then get herself food. They ate, went for a walk, and returned. Sara took a shower, and put on Gil's shirt after. When it came time for bed, Sara asked Hank to lie on the bed with her, and cuddled him. "Since Gil isn't here, I'll hold you tonight," she smiled. He seemed to understand as he nuzzled her face and lay his head back down.

A little after the phone call, Gil did go and eat. He shed himself of his coveralls, put them in his car, got in himself, and drove to the nearest diner. He ate there and then took away a second meal for his lunch, which he ate at the appropriate time. Sara went to the laboratory at nine o' clock that night, wanting to do all she could to help her boyfriend. She went to check on Warrick's progress.  Upon finding him sifting through the contents of the victim's vacuum cleaner with a pair of tweezers and coughing profusely, she teased, "He-he-heyyy. Blacklung."

"Ah...I've been sifting through this trash for about six hours." That meant that he had been working for the entirety of the swing shift. "You come here to rescue me or make fun of me?" the poor man retorted.

"I am just looking, relax." She pointed to one of the petri dishes Warrick had set out to sort the evidence. "What are these white fibres here?"

"They must be from the spare bedroom, because all the other carpets are green."

Sara looked at the plan drawing of the house. "Spare bedroom wasn't on his entrance or exit path."

"Look, all I know is that they were near the top of the bag, so it must've been one of the last things he vacuumed." Sara gave small nods of acknowledgment.

"I did manage to find this butterfly pendant..." Warrick moved his tweezers to the petri dish where it was and picked it up, "...with some white fibres in it. Looks like it's from a necklace, or a bracelet. And it has this link, which has snapped so I'm thinking...sign of struggle?" He straightened up a little bit to raise his point.

"Killer was in that spare bedroom."

Gil's panicky obsessiveness was certainly affecting a fair few of his teammates. Catherine went to the scene of the crime at the same time as Sara returned to the laboratory.  She knew that Gil was very stressed out about the victim looking so much like their dear friend, and so she wanted to help him.

(Poor Gil...he did not realise that when he worried, his team family worried too and would do whatever they could for him; he did not realise that they could love him as much as he loved them.  He had such heavy doubt about his own lovability, so much so that he even almost rejected Sara when she first asked him out.)

Catherine walked in to see Gil processing the carpet (to the amazing soundtrack). During the conference, he had mentioned that he had processed the carpet on the threshold of the bathroom, and at present he was processing the area of carpet just beyond that.  Her work-wife face on, she said to him, "Don't tell me you never went home."

Gil looked up at her, one hand still on the carpet and the other holding his filter paper. "Okay." Since she did not want to hear anything to that effect, he decided to water it down by saying, "I just got started in here.  I haven't even got into any of the rooms yet."

"You know you lose your edge after sixteen hours, and you're into your third shift. She brought her forearms out to her sides. "I mean I'm all for overtime but, this is just plain greedy."

He shook his head tiredly before reassuring her, "My knees can't take this anymore." As fuelled as he was from his food, it still physically hurt to remain on one's knees for an extended period of time.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes."

"Ah," she nodded approvingly.  "Then, how about a shower?"  Gil shook his head.  Catherine raised an eyebrow in turn.  At Gil's look of horror, she clarified, "I mean at your place.  You need to go home."

"As soon as we find some evidence, I promise."

"With fresh eyes you won't miss it."

Her work-husband groaned as he stood up, his knees creaking.  "Just talk it through with me will ya?  What do we know?"

Catherine's eyes shifted to the side in thought.  "Alright."  She inhaled deeply before continuing, "The bathroom is where things got started. Candles, oils...steam shower...cleaned up, oiled up...sexed up."

"Let's go back to the bedroom," Gil voiced, moving his head a little way in the direction of the bedroom. They got their UV-protective goggles out of their kits, with Catherine taking the torchlight as well.  Cath shone the light on the topmost bedsheet, but nothing showed up under the fluorescence. "No, nothing on this sheet," Gil noted. He lifted that sheet to expose the one underneath, to yield the same result; he gently cocked his head to one side in acknowledgement (which was cute).

"She changed her sheets for her date; I would," Catherine remarked.

Since there was nothing to be found on the top surface of the bed, Gil let his gaze wander to the side of the bed. A ring embedded into the mattress caught his eye with a loop red cloth threaded through it with the rest stuffed under the mattress caught his eye; this time his head jerked a little to the side in vigilance. He squatted down and pulled it out, passing hand over hand.  When it was completely free and he could see what it was, he transferred it to one hand so that he could take off his goggles with the other.  He then looked up at his colleague with an uncomfortable expression and called, "Hey Cath..." When she looked at him, he held the thing up as if he was holding a dead rat and continued, "...got silk?"  His eyes shifted to the object as he asked that.  What he meant by that was if there was an identical finding on her side.

She looked down at her side of the mattress, and opened her mouth at the discovery and looked back at him.  Gil kept an inquiring gaze on her and took the opportunity to stand up.  She bent to her side while reaching an arm down and fished the cloth out.  "Why yes I do."  Gil looked back at the one in his own hand and shook it to see if anything would fall out; he was still disconcerted and frowning though.  His unease was turned into scepticism when Catherine said, "Iiii don't mean to embarrass you but um...some guys need leverage," as she stepped towards the foot of the bed and removed the sheets to uncover the barrier.

"They do?"  He was frowning a little bit harder; Sara certainly never complained.

Grinning in the hopes of finding something, Catherine gave a nod before saying, "I'll dust for prints."

While she did that, Gil's phone rang again.  He took his phone out from the same place he had when Sara called.  "Grissom."  He stuffed the hand not holding his phone comfortably into his pocket.

"It's Warrick.  I have somethin' for you - I found a butterfly link.  With some white fibres in it."

Grissom started walking to the other bedroom.  "Butterfly where?"

"In the vacuum bag.  You check all the rooms?"

"Lemme look again, and I'll get back to you."

"Alright." Grissom had reached the spare bedroom by then, so he put his phone away and got up to the shelf where the victim's butterfly collection was, a smile gracing his face at the sight of insects. He shone his (regular) torchlight on the contents of the shelf. When came across some more photos of Debbie, he drew himself back slightly, but quickly tore his gaze away from them; this was not the time to dwell on his feelings. His gaze averted to a blue jewellery box next to them, decorated with even more images of butterflies. He opened it; inside, there was an assortment of accessories, all butterfly-themed. He carefully used a finger to move them about, pushing them aside to see if there were any broken-off pieces. He did find one near the top right of the box.

In the meantime, Catherine had successfully made a print show up.  She tape-lifted it with a triumphant smile and proudly brought it to show Grissom.  "Hang one.  Toe print.  I'll have Sara compare it against both victims."

"Good."  Sara was the only unoccupied person.  "Warrick found a butterfly charm in the vacuum bag...I think I just found a piece from the same chain in this box."  He pointed to it.

"Butterfly huh?"  Catherine mused, her eyes moving to look over the rest of the trinkets.

"She had a collection." He seemed quite happy to announce that, and it was no wonder why.

"Gifts?  From her...gentleman callers?"

"Maybe the killer was taking his gift back.  As in, leave no trace.  Maybe he finally ran out of patience and got sloppy."  At the last sentence, his voice deepened, as if he was challenging the unseen and unknown perpetrator.  Upon shining his torch on the shelf below, he found a strand of hair.  Short and white, as would come from an elderly man.  He squatted, with Catherine following suit, and picked it up with his tweezers.  "And this is why I didn't leave."  His voice was soft with excitement and victory. Catherine left to bring the hair and toe print back to the laboratory, giving the print to Sara and the hair to Greg. Gil got back to Warrick and informed him of the matching butterfly.

Sara went to take the lower ten cards of both victims. Having finally gotten the chance to look at Debbie, she moved the swivel chair she was sitting on to draw herself up beside the victim's face. She stared down at it.  And suddenly, she understood.  She understood Gil's skittishness, understood why he had been reluctant to let her in on the case.  And she was, of course, haunted; it could very well have been her on Al's slab.  She glanced about, not knowing what to think; she could not articulate her emotions even in her own head. Eventually, they settled on one person: Gil. Gil, her protector; the person who had been 'protecting' her from this case at any rate.  She would speak to him to clear her head; she could always talk to him, and he would never turn her away. Well...he used to. But that was when his feelings towards her were even more of a mess than they currently were. He had progressed a lot with her help.

With that temporary comfort, she finished up and went to run the prints through AFIS. That took several hours. By the time that day shift roller around, both Debbie Marlin and Michael Clark were ruled out.  She then went to find Gil.  Or Catherine; whichever she found first. She went to the shift supervisor's office; nobody was there. And nobody was in the assistant shift supervisor's office either. But after some wandering around, she found Catherine in the locker room, sitting on a bench and changing her shoes. "Hey," Sara called, trying to seem cheery, "you seen Grissom?"

"He's still at the crime scene," Catherine responded, glancing at her as she did.

Sara nodded to signify her acknowledgment before reporting, "I eliminated both victims from the print you pulled off the bed."

"Well we know she was fishing off the company pier..." Sara responded with a look and a nod. "You uh, seen Debbie?" Catherine looked at her properly, wanting to gauge her reaction.

"Yeah," she said laconically, not wanting to give anything away.

"And?" Catherine enquired.

"Yeah I compared her...toe prints," she avoided still, her expression hardening.

Seeing as that would lead nowhere, Catherine decided to comment, "If I didn't know better I'd think that it was you on that table."

"I didn't really...look at her face," Sara denied. Noticing Sara seemed sad somehow, Catherine relented and just gave her a knowing look. Sara let her face fall, and allowed herself to sound as pleading as she really was when she asked, "If you see Grissom will you tell him?" Catherine nodded sincerely. Sara just walked off after that. The assistant shift supervisor convened with Jim and they went to Desert Palm print samples.  They did find a match; Dr.  Tripton.  Catherine phoned Gil and informed him of it.

#Youtube #csi #gsr #4x12 #gil grissom #sara sidle #billy petersen #william petersen #jorja fox #c-v-c-e fic

[dribbonart]

Steven Universe Rewatch: Bluebird

Genuine question: Are we supposed to take this seriously? Is Future supposed to be taken more metaphorically or something? Why else would Bluebird act like this?

She’s just kinda crappy to Steve in an incompetent way, then she jumps to straight up murder/terrorism. It’s all so... inconsistent. Did she really just have zero plan whatsoever? The entire episode is all over the place.

This commercial is the sort of thing I wanted from Future. Checking in on our beloved characters and seeing how they’ve grown and changed.

Peridot clearly approves of this plan to get compliments.

This implies that Bluebird did enough research to find out about TPing things, but fell just short of figuring it out. 

Never noticed that nightmare Steven in the top right before. 

What’s up with this design? She’s British, so is the hair being the Beatles or something? The shirt and pants look like they just randomly added some clothes.

The splotchy colors remind me of corruption. It seems to be implying that it’s not a good fusion, which is supported by the ending. I don’t think we’ve seen gem colors bleeding into each other like this before.

Four legs is interesting. I tried to do it with a fan fusion, but I couldn’t make it work.

A subconscious reminder of Greg’s hair’s importance.

Steven and Amethyst have the same drawing style.

Best joke of the episode.

I assume this is a deliberate callback to Garnet saying that Lion being related to Rose was pretty obvious. 

A nice moral. It might be unfair to kick out Bluebird, but you don’t have to have a “legitimate” reason to not want someone in your house. Your comfort matters.

This prank works. I like that Amethyst supports it.

OK, THIS MAKES NO SENSE. Why did Amethyst make this drawing. Why AND HOW did she get it inside a sealed bag of chips. Why is her drawing style worse and different than before. Why did she start drawing Steven without telling him, but leaving them around where he’d find them. Why the stink lines. This is lame sitcom writing.

We’re to assume that Amethyst coincidentally started to draw recently, only for this to happen in such a way that Bluebird arrived at the exact time to get Steven’s goat. There’s no plan whatsoever, it’s just a coincidence.

Cool replacement painting. I suppose it’s a Vidalia? Oh man, if there was a poster of this, I’d be dearly tempted to buy one.

This episode also has that thing where we check in on each character in sequence. Bluebird just happens to be doing something with each of the main cast just as Steven bumps into them. 

She has a malicious plan for Steven, but is also, (coincidentally?) hanging out with the main characters doing nice things that can be misconstrued as malicious. There’s literally no reason for her to make a cake, help Garnet stretch, or watch movies with Greg. It’s just an excuse for Steven to jump to the assumption that Bluebird is a bad person, which turns out to be true anyway.

The van being parked inside the house is a cool visual. Are we to assume that they warped the van while it was still driving? That’s fun.

I like when people are dumb but confident. Team Rocket FTW.

This is incredibly petty, but Greg should be hanging straight down. The line of the house is straight down, so he should be hanging parallel with it.

I like that Greg gets a moment of heroism. Stealing a gem’s weapon and cutting himself free is the most action he gets in the series. (Other than with Rose, wah wah.)

I don’t know why they decided to make him lose his hair. 

Just two angry idiots being dumb together.

I like Bluebird’s saber. It fits the weird design.

Ridiculous overkill. I’m not complaining, I’ll take any fusion I can get. Never noticed the wedding rings before, that’s cool.

I love the way Amethyst and Pearl are cool with being held up like this. They could just hang out here. Ooh, does this count as a Pearl’s butt episode?

Unreformed villains are such a rarity in the series, I like that these two never stop being jerks. She’s so phony about being redeemed, it’s fun.

Nice moral.

This episode is an adequate execution of a bad structure. These episodes where the story just checks in with all the characters in sequence for no particular reason always irritate me. Bluebird is too all over the place to be a legitimate or interesting character.

There are still some good jokes, it’s not terrible.

#Steven Universe #Rewatch #Pearl's butt #SU Rewatch

[kamandzak]

Into the Great Night - Chapter 2

I started writing this book about a year ago and finished it ~7 months ago. Performing a big rewrite and this chapter is so dismally beautiful I can’t keep it to myself.

Context: Andrew Garland’s boyfriend of eight years has passed away and he is struggling

Recommended listening: Compass and Miracle by Two Steps from Hell

     It was foolish of me to think it would be any better at Tessa’s house. Merely leaving the place Greg and I had cohabitated didn’t mean our past would leave me; that my grief would leave me.

    It was no better sitting on Tessa’s couch as opposed to my own.

    It was still lonely. It was still joyless.

    It was still too cold.

      If that was my new normal…. If that was the life of which I would be forced to live for the rest of my days, I preferred to die.

      Tessa was worried. Beth was worried. Sara and Clara were worried. They all had the right to be. Mom and Dad still hadn’t reached out. I couldn’t say I was mad about it.

      For the first month I carried the same daily, depressive routine: Wake up, shower, watch videos, eat, shower again, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Nothing to disrupt the morose mentality I held from the moment my eyes opened until they closed. Even in my dreams I continued being sad. I couldn’t escape – trapped forever.

    Jake’s constant messages of concern did nothing but send me sinking deeper and deeper into hazy nothingness. Peppered with queries about when I planned to emerge onto the gaming scene, along with the occasional ludicrous statement about how he understood my stuffy brain, each message was deleted as it was read. There was no reason to have those hanging around, reminding me why I was in Reno and not where I had once dreamed of making a life for myself.

      Whenever I closed my eyes, Greg’s face appeared in the dark. Maybe I was napping; maybe I was finally sleeping fully through the night; maybe I was simply blinking. Always, he was there.

    Sometimes it was a fleeting glance of what used to be the best part of my life. Sometimes I dreamed of things that had already happened, or things I wanted to be that would never come to light.

    One night, I dreamed we got married. Waking up was almost as painful as watching him die.

      Tessa was worried I’d off myself. It wasn’t like we talked about it or anything, of course, but I could hear her and Beth sitting over tea every weekend, hushed mutterings coming from her dining room table or her room or her little porch. My grief had thrown a wrench into the lives of those around me, Beth worrying about my life when she normally would work on lesson plans for her rambunctious class of first graders. When she was feeling brave, Tessa would ask why I kept my secrets down deep for so long. That right there was why.

    I had suffered from depression before but what I was feeling wasn’t just unadulterated sadness; it was a fierce, far more complicated set of emotions leading me to exist in a far more dangerous mindset than I had ever been in before. Instead of having an urge to kill the part of me that is making me feel so unbelievably yet nondescriptly sad, I wanted death. Death, full stop.

    Mom and Dad and Sara and Clara and Beth and Tessa weren’t good enough reasons to stay alive, and all I wanted was to see Greg just for another minute. I wanted to give up a life with my own flesh and blood just to see him again. I would have given up all the time in the world for one more night of SNL and inside jokes with a man who made me feel like so much more than who I actually was; a unextraordinary nerd with awkward social tendencies and difficulty communicating. With Greg I felt like I was more than just me; without him, I didn’t know who I was anymore.

    “Andrew! Your phone!” A crumpled ball of paper bounced off my head as Tessa’s voice cut through my outer shell, the sounds of my phone following her words. My phone beeped loudly, the tell-tale sign of a Facetime call on it’s way, and I dragged my finger across the screen to accept before I read the name. Each bodily movement seemed to take ten times longer than Before. I was living seconds behind reality.

    “Garland.”

Jake’s face popped onto my screen. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1….

    “Hi.”

    “You look like hell.”

Jake’s mouth stopped moving before I even put together the string of letters that made up his blunt statement.

    “Mm,” I managed.

    “You in Reno?” I nodded. “I’m heading out that way this weekend. Never been to Vegas believe it or not. Figured I’d go explore. Have you seen anyone since everything happened?

    “Andrew, want anything from the gas station?” Tessa stood in her door frame and as I shook my head she left without another word.

    “I’ll take that as a no?”

    “Yeah, no. No, I haven’t seen anyone. I don’t want to see anyone.”

    “What if they came to you? So you didn’t have to leave where you are?”

    “I’m not about to let a stranger into my sister’s apartment.”

    “We’re not technically strangers at this point, right?”

    “Why are you so hell-bent on meeting face-to-face?”

Jake paused, inhaling loudly, wheezily, in a way that reminded me of Greg; then again, everything reminded me of Greg whether it had anything to do with him or not.

    “The best thing that came out of the worst time in my life is now I can be empathetic to other people going through the same thing.”

The tiniest part of me wanted to know what he’d been through but the larger part didn’t have the brain power to care because what actually mattered didn’t exist anymore. I didn’t think Jake was purposely jabbing at open, festering wounds for the sake of cruelty; he was just caring for me.

    I didn’t want his caring. I only wanted one person’s caring and couldn’t get past the knowledge that I'd never have it again.

    “Let me know if you want someone to talk to. I’m only in Nevada for a couple of days. I won’t mind stopping. Really.”

    “Mm.”

    “I gotta go. Message me.”

The screen went black. Please Rate the Quality of your Call, a prompt stated, with the outlines of five stars beneath. I did no such thing.

    I wasn’t about to message him, even if I had a reason to do so. I wasn’t going to be messaging anyone because all conversations led back to Greg. How was gaming going? Was I still in Los Angeles? Was I still going to be on YouTube? All questions would eventually wind up being about him and the more I talked, the more I would have to remember. The more I would have to remember, the more I would have to feel, the more I would hurt.

    It started happening when I arrived at Tessa’s; my need for answers led me to the internet and introduced me to the term dissociation; I would simply leave my body. Up to the ceiling I seemed to float as if filled with helium, watching what was taking place below. Tessa waking up and making breakfast before going to her gaming room; her video editor Reese chatting with her about her upload schedule; Beth coming and going; myself sitting in the same spot on the same couch day in and day out.

    I didn’t know why it was happening, the only reasonable explanation being that I so desperately didn’t want to exist but was too much of a damn coward to kill myself. In the end, dissociation seemed like the best option. Just remove myself painlessly from my surroundings. Was certainly better than the alternative. It was peaceful, exiting the current plane and living somewhere else if only for just a few minutes.

    Live. That was the key word. I was still technically alive, my heart still beating and my stomach still digesting and my eyes blinking and lungs expanding with each breath. The human being my brain commanded was still moving. My mind was developed enough to operate on autopilot, doing the dumb things it had to do to keep everything in stasis. I ‘lived’, for lack of a better word.

    When I did gather the courage to look up what I was feeling on the internet, nothing made sense. Nothing could be remotely tailored to fit my situation. I could relate to none of it. These people with their inspiring stories and memoirs written in loving memoriam, and benches dedicated to loved ones… their experiences seemed to minimize what kept me awake at night. How were they able to do that? How could those strangers make me and my emotions feel trivial without even knowing me and without me actively posting in detail what was happening in my head? As hard as I tried to imagine those brave widows and widowers and left-behinds feeling the way I did, their stories always wound up being of getting over that tremendous loss.

    I didn’t want to get over it. If I got over it I would lose Greg forever. I’d already lost him once.

    The grocery lists of things I could do to help myself mocked me as I read the advice of people who claimed to know how to recover from the un-recoverable. Write them a letter, authors would write in silly, curly-cue fonts before giving me a whole page to write the letter, as if I was going to sit down and put pen to paper and tell Greg about something I saw that reminded me of our first date. List all the good times, one said, with bullet points for me to fill out five moments, as if every moment we had together wasn’t the best of my life. Find someone to talk to, another whimsically suggested as it reminded me that keeping my feelings inside was dangerous. As if I didn’t already know it was ripping me apart from the inside.

    They didn’t tell me how to start a letter to Greg where all I could do was say how much I missed him. They didn’t tell me how to find someone to talk to when I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. They gave me five fucking spots to talk about good times as if our six-year relationship could be reduced down to that many moments and no more.

    They said all of it was doable; they said that when the lost their husband or wife or boyfriend or girlfriend or best friend or grandparent or dog or whatever, those were the steps they took to recovering and moving on.

    They weren’t me, though. They weren’t me and they weren’t Greg and they weren’t the set of circumstances under which we had lived. Even if half of the equation was there, the other wasn’t. Maybe their loved one was sick. Were they sick with the same ailment, or one that carried similar stigma? Did they purposely risk illness for the sake of their significant other or family member or friend? Did their risk become reality because fate can be an unnecessarily cruel mistress? Did they love the other person so much they shortened their own life?

    The door opened and couch shifted as Tessa’s hands landed on the sides of my face.

    “Andrew”

I cracked at her voice, her icy hands wrapping around my head and pushing me against her. Worming my arms under hers, I clung to her small shoulders, weeping into her jacket sleeves. Eyes screwed shut I gasped for air, seeing Greg in the darkness as he mirrored the same breathy sounds. While mine were of sadness, his were of death – the only sound of him I could manage to remember despite being together for so long. Tessa pulled at my non-resisting body and we sat together, tangled in a heap of coats and scarves and unwashed hair. Much like when we were young – when we didn’t understand what the world was about or why we were with the people we were with – and Tessa would protect me, we sat close, her love drowning out the pulsing drone of fear and hatred and sadness and anger rushing through my mind as it struggled to comprehend the incomprehensible.

    For several minutes, we sat in silence.

    “Andrew.”

    “Mm.”

    “I love you.”

    “I know.”     “And,” she finally pushed me off her body, holding me in front of her. Cold air hit my hot face, adhering the salty wash of tears to my skin, “And you can talk to me about anything you need to. I know you don’t want to. I know you think you’re strong enough. Maybe the only way to become strong is to not be.”

    “Where do I s-start?” I hiccupped.

    “Let’s get the team together,” she began, rising slowly and pulling me up with her. “Maybe they can help.”

    “But-.”

    “No one knows you like we do.”

      Hours later, beneath the door of Tessa’s bedroom, I heard her. I heard them.

    “You guys have to get here as soon as you can. Please.”

    “What’s the matter, Tess?”

    “I think it’s happening…. I think the numbness is wearing off. He’s starting to feel things again. It’s not that I don’t want to be here when it happens. I just don’t want to not have you guys here with us. I don’t know what do to.”

Greg’s death wasn’t supposed to be affecting my sisters as the sounds of their video call trickled through the under-crack of the door. It wasn’t supposed to be affecting Jake or anyone else but me and the Davis’.

    It was a stupid thought and their voices continued, muffled by my sense of inadequacy. Of course it would be affecting other people. It started doing so the moment Tessa posted my video. It started affecting the girls the second I told them I was having an emergency and they needed to come see me. What I hadn’t wanted was exactly what I had dug myself into when I welcomed other people into the hell-circle I was stuck in.

    I didn’t want them to come see me. I didn’t want Beth to take time off and Clara to leave Frank and Sara to leave Duncan to come take care of me. I was twenty-four. I should have been able to take care of me.

      The front door opened several hours later and I looked up with a faux look of surprise. Out, I sent them telepathically. Please go.

    “Why are you here?” Tessa rolled her eyes at my question.

    “Boy, don’t pretend like you weren’t listening on my Zoom call with them,” she cracked a smile before reading the room and immediately coming back to our reality. “You know why.”

    “We’re just afraid that there’s more to address than just your changing grief,” Beth began and bile began rising in my throat. It was only a matter of time really, before they put two and two together. I guess I had thought it would take a little longer. Her hand landed in the middle of my back, leading me to the same sofa where Tessa and I had broken down together.

    “Don’t worry about me,” I began confidently. “I’m just-.”

    But then I coughed. I coughed and coughed and the more I tried to regulate my breathing, the harder it was. Choking; gasping.

    Hands rubbed my back while others pushed me down and a another lowered a glass of water into my field of vision. Sip, choke, swallow, repeat until I could finally shakily inhale with difficulty.

    Looking down at me were four sets of beautiful, worried eyes with which I could barely stand to keep contact.

    Clara spoke,

    “Stage three.”     “What?”

    “That’s what you’re in, isn’t it? Frank just… just lost a patient and when I asked him, especially when Tessa told me about all of your shakes and fevers, he said he thinks it's stage three. I think I believe him.”

I was at a complete and utter loss. In my molasses-filled, sloths-paced brain, grief at the loss of Greg drifted beside my own secrets and the suffering of my sisters, bouncing off of one another like oil and water.

    “You don’t understand,” I finally said.

    “Don’t understand what, exactly,” Tessa asked pointedly, further questions and opinions trapped behind pursed lips. I could practically see them stabbing her mouth, begging to be released.

    “Everything!” I exploded. I hadn’t been truly angry yet; up until then anger had taken too much effort. What energy grief didn’t zap from my system the HIV stole for its own selfish purposes. “It’s all connected, isn’t it?” I asked, huffing out laughs like a mad scientist whose madness had taken over the scientist within. “I can’t tell the world about me and Greg because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight. Then I’m with Greg and he’s so afraid of never having love and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life, so then we take a risk and guess what? Protection fails. The risk becomes reality and I get HIV but I can’t talk about the love or the disease because it’s been ingrained in me since I was a child that people who get sick with this illness get it as recompense for their actions. I don’t believe it when I look at Greg but when I stare at myself in the mirror all I can hear is Dad’s voice. I go to clinics occasionally but only outside of town and without people I even sort of know because I’m afraid subscribers who have never seen my fucking face will recognize me and assume I’m going there for a reason I don’t want anyone to know about and guess what? They’re right! I don’t want them to know about going to get HIV treatment because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight.”

    “Andrew-.”

    “We keep loving each other because hey, once I’m sick, we might as well, right?”

    “Andrew-.”

    “And then Greg dies. Greg fucking dies and I can’t tell anyone because I don’t have anyone and the only reason I don’t is because I spent the first seventeen years of my life having it ingrained in my mind that if I don't date, marry, and have a family with a beautiful woman, I’m damned to a life of eternal suffering.”

    “But we-.”

    “I can’t tell the gaming community because then Dad could find out. I can’t tell you guys or Mom because I feel bad that I kept it a secret for so long but I had to keep it a secret so I could stay safe and love the man I loved because I knew he didn’t have all the time in the world. So now I’m one serious infection away from dying because I didn’t do serious enough treatments to start with because I was so afraid of people finding out I’m not straight,” I nearly screamed, throat raw, standing up and spinning around to face my audience. “How the fuck am I supposed to deal with all of this?”

From all four sides, warm sweaters hit my torso as each sister came from a different angle and held on tightly, two of them shaking against me with emotion. Long nails raked through my hair, hands rubbed my back and arm and nape of neck; hair tickled my nose. Cold, dry lips pressed against my forehead.

    When I dared to observe who was directly in front of me, Sara had tears running down her slim cheeks.

    “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” I whispered. “All it’s doing is making you sad.”

    “I would have been sad when you first told me, Andrew. Nothing keeps human emotion from happening. But you’ve kept it in for so long, and the longer it builds up the more explosive it is when you finally release the valve. If you told me six years ago that you were in love with a boy and were scared, I would have been so proud. I would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do… however you wanted to live your life. If you told me whenever you found out about being sick that you were sick, I would have been devastated. I still am. It’s just… complicated now,” she petered off as the others nodded in agreement.

    “I’m not mad at you, in case you think that,” Clara spoke. “I don’t think any of us are. In a way it’s nice to finally know all your dirty laundry so we can be here as a family. I know you have your reasons for doing what you did. We all do. There’s a lot to sort out. A lot to do. A lot of catching up that has to take place.”

    “There’s no timeline for this stuff,” Beth began and before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth,

    “AIDS, Beth. A. I. D. S.”

    “Grief, Andrew. G. R. I. E. F.”

    “Awesome,” I mumbled. “How am I supposed to do this?”

    “Not alone. We need to get you a doctor here,” Tessa said with a sad expression that, for a brief moment, I wanted to smack off of her face. “I haven’t seen you go since we moved. You don’t want to, but we don’t want to lose you.” I wanted to lose me but that was beside the point so I kept the words inside. “I can’t lose you,” she managed and faint sounds of stifled sadness cut through the quiet.

    “I know you want to go,” Beth said as Clara and Sara ushered Tessa away from the scene. “Not to the doctor, but to him. You want to go to Greg. Right now what we say won’t change that. Nothing we say will change how you feel. Nothing feels worth living for right now and I know that. When you go through something like this, you can tell other people you really do know what they’re going through. We aren’t worth living for right now and I understand that. There isn’t much we can do, but what we can do is make sure you’re eating and at least taking some medication. There isn’t much more to do right now than sustain yourself. Let us help.”

    “Okay.”     “You loved him. I understand that,” Beth whispered, wrapping her arms around me. “And you both did what you could with the time you had. Life’s unfair. I don’t know why things happen to people the way they do. I’m sorry.”

    “Why wasn’t my best good enough?”

    “Oh, Andrew. It was. I promise. There are just some things we can’t control. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

#writer #writing #novel #novelist #author #kamandzak #into the great night #grief #tw suicide #tw dissociation

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Petals.

Hello! Sorry, I took a few days to write but the good news is that today I have two chapters for you! Let me know what you think!

Ps. I’ve checked but I apologize for the errors you may find in this one (grammar or vocabulary)

Chapter 22: High (on Felix felicis) <part 1>

Draco hated the Room of Requirement. He hated that it worked for everyone, even if what they were doing was utterly stupid and the biggest mistake of their lives. He hated that Theodore never let him come in to the room with him.



Draco found himself walking in front of the room, like every other night since the boy left the hospital, thinking about what he needed.



‘I need to enter the same room that Theodore Nott just did. I need to enter the same room that Theodore Nott just did. I need to enter the same room that Theodore Nott just did.’



The door refused to present before him. Just like in fifth year when he wanted to warn the stupid DA about Umbridge coming. He hated what it meant then and he hated what it meant now: neither Potter or Theodore want your stupid help, Draco. Stop being pathetic.



It was worth the shot. He turn around and started to walk towards the dungeons.



Tomorrow, everyone was coming back from the Easter holidays and Draco knew that Theodore would stop being around him. The blond boy was very aware that the problem was people seeing him talking with a ‘blood traitor’, that Theo needed him around but he wasn’t about to risk everything just for talking to the grey-eyed boy at breakfast.



The only eyes that the brunette didn’t mind were Blaise’s , Pansy’s or even Vincent’s and Greg’s. Draco knew that it was because they were ‘their people’. And he didn’t mean in a ‘they are pureblood just like us', no. The blond boy meant that they were their Slytherins friends, they were the one to uphold the Slytherins-codes of friendship: you never betray your people. Not even if their choices are bad, not even if you grew apart; you remember those things that made you friends in that moment of your lives and try to be there for them.



Pansy loved the code. She used to recite it in second year when she thought that Draco or Theo were the heirs of Slytherin. She just hugged them a lot, told them that they could trust her, that maybe she didn’t agree with what they were doing but it was irrelevant. She wanted them to be safe and to have someone that they could rely on. Draco and Theo used to laugh until their belly’s hurt in response. ‘Honestly, Pans. You think that if I were the heir of Slytherin You would NOT know? I would probably say it to every person that I’d meet’ (that was Draco) ‘Yeah, Pansy. And don’t you think that I would be acting a little more suspicious? I’m literally with the two of you every bloody hour of every bloody day. When would I have the time to free the monster? Besides, I cover my monster quota with your troll face in the mornings.’ (That, of course, was Theo).



So Theodore trusted the Slytherins to shut their mouths about everything, about what he was doing, about him spending time with Draco... And in return, there was this implicit agreement that the brunette was not going to talk about them either. He wasn't going to mention to anyone that Pansy and Blaise were friends with the golden trio now, because he lived by the rules of the slytherin-code too.



Draco had broken the code when he went to see the Headmaster. He felt kind of guilty about it, but the end justified the means: he needed to help and he couldn't do it by keeping his mouth shut. The blond boy was just glad that Theodore didn't hate him for it.



When he got to his room, Blaise was reading a book on his bed. He didn't even take his eyes off the book to speak.



"No luck?" Draco groaned as he threw himself on his bed.



"I fucking hate this."



"I know, Dragon." His best friend said in a calm voice.




———————-


Easter Holidays were over and that meant that the castle was full with people again. He put his best effort into avoiding the Gryffindors during the entire day. He took the long ways to classes and if one of them happened to be near, then the blond boy would turn around and walk in the opposite direction.

Draco was surprised when he found Potter talking to Theodore in front of the Slytherin dungeons after classes. He frowned and walked towards them. The voices became clearer.



"Fine, I accept your half ass apology, Potter." Theo said with an annoyed expression. The green eyed boy glared at him.



"It's not half anything, Nott" The brunette snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, because this is not a lame attempt of getting him to talk to you." Draco saw the green-eyed boy blush a little and stuttered a response.

 

"It- it's really not. I just wanted to say to you that I'm sorry about what happened."

 

Draco slowed down his steps... He felt the frowned on his face soften. The daffodils were really quiet during the holidays, Draco had almost forgotten that he felt like this around Potter. So all consuming, focused on him. The flowers were thrilled: ‘See? He is perfect. Kiss him'. Fortunately, he had more common sense than the stupid daffodils. He took a deep breath (at least as deep as he could right now) before talking.

 

"Is something wrong, Theodore?" He asked. Playing dumb was probably the best option.

 

The boys turned around to look at Draco who was standing beside them. Potter was staring at him, the blond boy could tell that he was nervous, his green eyes looked troubled. The brunette shook his head.

 

"No, Potter here was just apologizing to me. Now, If you excuse me, I have other places to be." Said the hazel-eyed boy with a sassy tone an then, he started to walk towards the stairs.

 

'Of course you are choosing this moment to escape to that bloody room. I hate that you are being so fucking obvious.' Draco thought as he followed the boy with his eyes.

 

"So... How have you been?" Potter asked with a soft tone.

 

Draco looked at the boy. The petals were moving like crazy, begging him to get closer, he had to fight the urge to listen to them.

 

"What do you want?" He asked calmly. The dark-haired boy shifted his weight between his feet.

 

"I just... Can you forgive me? Please."

 

Draco was surprised by the trembling sound of his voice, so honest. He looked at him, trying to understand why would he feel like this. Yes, he didn't go back to Grimmauld but he hadn't thought that he would actually care. At least not that much. And the daffodils couldn't stop moving. When he didn't respond Potter started to talk again.

 

" I know that it was awful. I can't imagine how you felt. It's just that-" The boy took a deep breath as he looked directly into his eyes. "I know that I've been a prat since New Year's Eve, but I could not understand how you were dying for him. And I shouldn't have used that spell without knowing what it did. I'm sorry. Being like this sucks. I just want to fix this. Please, Malfoy."

 

Draco started to cough right there. It wasn't a coughing fit, but still. Potter looked worriedly at him and took his wand out to vanish the petals as they fell on the floor.

 

"Sorry. I didn't want to upset you. I understand if you don't want to be friends anymore." Said the boy with a soft voice and a pained look in his green eyes. And where the fuck did that come from? Yes, Draco was furious with him and decided to have some space, but that's it. He didn't want to go back at Grimmauld to fight with Potter in front of Sirius and Mr. Potter... It was the boy's house after all. He deserved to spend the holidays without Draco slamming doors every time he saw him. And he also thought that staying meant that he could convince Theodore (which ended up not happening).

 

Then, he gave Draco a black bag. The blond boy frowned. "It's from Padfoot. He said that it was for the two of us, but you are going to give it more use than me, so..."

 

Draco didn't understand what he was looking at when he opened the bag. There was something silver with buttons and tiny earmuffs. Then, he saw the album cover from 'Sheer Heart Attack' and widened his eyes. The blond boy put the bag on the floor to inspect the little box; amazed. It look like glass, but it didn't feel like glass and it was so tiny.His vinyls were like four times that box, at least. He heard a soft chuckle.

 

"I can teach you how it works..." He lifted his eyes to see the boy. "I mean- If you want to, of course. I can go get Mione if you prefer." said the green-eyed boy soft blush on his face. 'Stop it, you useless flowers. He is blushing because this is the most awkward conversation ever and it's embarrasing.'

 

"You know that I'm just angry, right? You keep acting weird." Draco said, confused.

 

"You are?" Potter asked, hopeful look in his eyes.

 

"Well, yes. I thought you knew that." The boy shook softly his head and then he smiled at him.

 

"That's good. I mean, not good. I want for us to be okay, you know? But It's better." Draco arched his eyebrow, confused.

 

"What did you thought it was going on, Potter?" And the boy smiled even more brightly at him. "What?" He asked, annoyed;the boy just shrugged.

 

"You haven't called me anything since the infirmary. Maybe you didn't notice, but if you talked to me, you would never call me anything. Not Potty, not Scarhead, not the prat who lived and not even my surname."

 

Draco hadn't realized actually. He was astounded that the green-eyed boy did... The flowers were fucking tickling him. 'HE CARES, HE CARES, HE CARES’.He tried to remain calm.

 

The truth was that Draco didn’t have it in him to be mad anymore. He felt so weak, day by day... being apart from Potter was destroying him. He felt it everywhere. He sighed.

“Did you really use that spell without knowing what it was?” He asked, looking at those green eyes, trying to find answers.

“I really did. We can steal Snape’s veritaserum if you want. I’ll take it, and you’ll see that I’m telling the truth.”

Draco snorted and shook his head.

“That won’t be necessary, Potty. I believe you.”

And suddenly, Potter was pulling him into a hug. It was kind of weird. The boy was shorter than him, so the messy hair ended up right under Draco’s nose. ’He smells wonderful.’ He just stood there, waiting for him to pull back, holding all his air in because the flowers were throwing a fucking party inside of his lungs.

The dark-haired boy promptly realized that Draco wasn’t returning the hug so he pulled away, shy eyes looking at him.

“Sorry. You are probably still mad, it’s just-“

“Stop apologizing, Potter. I beg you.” He grabbed the bag and smirked at him. “Are you going to teach me how to use this or not?”

The green-eyed smiled so brightly at him that Draco thought that he was going to die from the tickles in his lungs.

#drarry #fanfic #fanfiction #prongsfoot