#so this isn’t blowing up into a situation where he lashes out at them

[daydreamerdrew]

The Defenders (1972) #73

#ohh I love the Hulk soo much 😭 #so Kyle has to go deal with a personal crisis and the girls all decide to hang out at the riding academy and listen to Patsy’s records #(side note that I like that while Kyle has this crisis going on he still offers to give Clea a ride home) #and after their long hectic adventure the Hulk hasn’t got it in him to listen to music #it’s too much sensory simulation for him right now #so he goes to sit in the peaceful quiet outside #and because the Hulk’s always had a hard time dealing with his emotions his mind is going to places like #why does Hulk need friends? #and Hulk just wants to be alone #when really the Hulk does like having friends and he doesn’t like being alone all of the time #it’s just that often his interactions with other people are deeply unpleasant for him #and he’s not equipped to be around people all the time #he’s built in a way that he needs his space #but this is genuinely a good moment for him like I don’t think he’s even leaving the riding academy property #he’s still in this safe place that the Defenders provides for him #he’s able to remove himself from a stressful situation and process his emotions on his own #and his friends don’t try to get him to stay and I really don’t think they’re bothered by his bluntness cause they’re used to him #so this isn’t blowing up into a situation where he lashes out at them #the Hulk still has a lot of room to grow #but I think that his time with the Defenders is where he’s done the most learning on how to mantain relationships with people #marvel #bruce banner #kyle richmond #patsy walker #valkyrie #clea strange #my posts #comic panels

[shes4twnksinatrnchct]

Divertissement | III

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x fem!oc

Summary: Three Years after Tabitha Carmichael abandons Frankenmuth, she returns in the hopes of mending a burnt bridge.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit sexual situations (later chapters), explicit language, mentions of underage drinking/drug use, mentions of child abandonment, mentions of homophobia

Words: 6.8k (Revised 5/8/24)

***This is fiction (obviously) if you don’t like it, feel free to block and breeze by this.

The third year of my time away had been packed full of somewhat life-altering occurrences, some of which untimely—such as almost losing my scholarship on account of Spondylolysis from wear and tear on my body being thrown around for over ten years, or receiving a phone call where Josh was screaming on the other end in excitement while trying to explain them signing with Lava Republic Records and actually going on tour to open for the Struts, then of course came the night in March of 2017 where I actually had some interest in someone who had caught my eye at the bar, then graduation came a month and a half later, which freed me from the confines of Sam Houston State University forever. 

“…One more!” Sierra pipes, my cheeks beginning to ache as Lee mutters, “Fother Mucker,” through his wide smile, growing just as tired of his wife’s unending desire to get a million pictures of the same pose. 

Just before she can capture the moment , the wind is knocking the black tassel of my graduation cap into his face. 

“Damnit.” He drops his smile and brushes the tassel away, only causing it to catch on my lipgloss, making me peel it off with an echoed, “Damnit,” of my own.

Another picture is taken that isn’t interrupted by wind or people dodging by, trying not to get in the way but doing so anyway, and when she goes to once more request, “Just one more,” Lee and I both refuse. 

“Nope.” I step away from my brother and he does so to me while she rolls her eyes. 

“We got at least ninety pictures, Cece.” He states to her, fixing his cap back on his head. 

“Our baby only graduates college once, Lee.” She replies, elbowing him as she looks at me with teary eyes.

“Unless she decides to blow more money on a Master’s degree.” He scoffs, glancing around at the crowd of graduates garnered in black gowns and orange sashes. 

“I didn’t even blow money on this degree.” I correct him, reminding him of my athletic scholarship. 

“I put thousands of dollars into uniforms, competitions, travel fees, and gas over the years for you to practice shaking some pom-poms and doing a flip so good that they offered you a free education. You might not have blown money to get this,” He thumps my diploma, “But I did.” 

He said it like he wasn’t helping Josh pin down pieces of my hair, that refused to stay flat, in the tight ponytails required for games and competitions, while I slapped on my makeup…like he wouldn’t help spray me down in glitter or assist when it came to gluing rhinestones on my face—though he’d inevitably fail, I’d almost cry due to lack of time, and Josh would attempt to fix it somewhat before it was time to go—those, of course, were the times Sierra wouldn’t be able to get off work. He said it like he wasn’t always the loudest one shouting, and cheering me on regardless of it being a prestigious competition, or a general game—knowing it was much more difficult than just “shaking some pom-poms and doing a flip.”

I look at him, unamused, as Sierra holds out her phone to him, a small smile tugging at her lips as she bats her lashes. 

“Cass, get in here,” She motions toward my boyfriend who’s been standing patiently to the side, his blue eyes keeping on me while allowing Sierra to completely orchestrate the photography session I hadn’t realized I had signed up for by sending out my graduation invitation.

“You don’t have to.” I tell him as he steps up to the plate, getting on the other side of me with a chuckled out, “It’s Sierra. I can’t say, ‘no’.”

“Just a couple.” She says to Lee when he takes the phone and she walks to us.

“Sierra.” I complain, fixing my hair and my cap once more. 

“I’m photogenic. We won’t need more than two to get one where I’m looking good.” She assures me while Lee scoffs.

She gets her pictures with us, then a couple with me, before finally releasing me from her trap. 

In doing so, I’m kissing Cass’ cheek—causing him to flinch back slightly at the public display of affection while I add, “I’m running home to change. I don’t care where we eat. Just text me.” 

He shakes his head, stating, “Tabitha, I can take you home.”

“No, no, I’m okay. You go ahead with my brother and Sierra.” I promise, craving a moment to myself, hoping my expression conveys the notion that I’m close to pulling my hair out if I have to spend another moment with someone else present without at least three minutes of my own. 

“Alright, let me know when you make it home.” He states, and I nod, moving to hug Sierra and Lee, to which she asks, “Where you going?” 

“Home to change. You guys decide what you want to eat and I’ll head that way when I’m out of this dress.” I say. 

“Are you sure?” Lee questions, next. 

“Yes, I promise.” I pat his arm, heading to the doors of the auditorium, pulling my cap from my head and stripping my robe off the moment I get outside, tiredly exhaling while the last few weeks of finals have finally settled and come to fruition. 

Now all I’ve got to do is pack for the trip I’ve been procrastinating to prepare for. 

When Greta Van Fleet got picked up by The Struts and taken on their tour as openers, they sent Lee and Sierra three tickets for the show in Flint—and I was a bit guilted into accepting the third ticket by the never ending texts from certain members of the band reading:

 You're coming to Flint, correct?

I saw their first bout of shows back home in Fischer Hall, and they wanted me to witness them on tour for the first time at least once to count the circle as full. 

Reluctantly, I finally agreed, and used the show as an excuse to show my fairly new boyfriend where I grew up—and hopefully get him acquainted with the idea of moving back with me. 

Once I arrive home and change, snatching my suitcase from my closet to begin at least putting some of my things into it, I get a phone call that appears to be on cue—the devil himself planning it, no doubt. 

“Hello?” I answer, putting the phone on speaker, waiting to hear his exuberant voice. 

“For she’s a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow,” I hear Josh, Sam and Danny sing out in a chorus of vocals and clapping with a tambourine thrown into the mix. “For she’s a jolly good fellow, and so say all of us, and so say all of us, and so say all of us!” They cheer for themselves once they're done, their voices leaving me with warmth filling my chest and a smile on my face.

“Congrats on not blowing off college to run around with your boyfriend and the band!” Josh says to me, recalling what my original plan was before I decided to go to college in the first place. “Although, if you did, you’d be in the city of…” He trails off, and I hear him ask, “What city are we in, again?” 

“Indianapolis.”

The grin is pulled from my face as the response is given from a voice I haven’t heard in a while—narrowly avoiding him anytime I’ve returned home for the holidays, and it has seemed in the past that he’s gone mute by any other phone call that Josh and I share. 

“…You’d be in the city of Indianapolis,” Josh starts again, “and you’d be running off, umm, about three hours of sleep. You’d be fucking dead inside from being crammed in a van with three statistics and—”

“Ooh, which one am I?” Sam asks upon Josh referring to them as statistics. 

“Failed Lobotomy.” Danny retorts. 

“—Your mind would slowly be melting, and you’d have the libido of a corpse.” Josh finishes in a drawn out breath. 

“You can’t have a lifeless libido, Josh, what the hell else are you gonna offer all those screaming girls?” I quip sarcastically, met with an abrupt:

“Me!” Sammy jumps in, again. 

“Barely legal.” Jake mutters in the background. 

“But legal nonetheless!” Sam exclaims, Danny offering a muffled, “Please, go shower so I can, next,” to the youngest Kiszka.

“Well, congrats on not coming to Texas with me when I suggested it because you’d be overheated, overstimulated, and starved of wooded areas to run freely through.” I respond to Josh, tucking my legs under my ass on the floor. 

“Already am.” He says without a shred of humor, to which I optimistically remind him, “At least you can perform,” which does the intended and riles him into carrying on about the loyal support they’ve received amongst fans, the shine gleaming in his voice as he boasts his love and appreciation for each one of them while I listen and pack for another ten minutes before a beep sounds from an incoming call and I see Cass’ name across my screen. 

“Hold on just a second, Josh, I’m getting another call,” I interrupt quickly. 

“Oh, is your boyfriend calling?” It’s clearly meant as a joke, his tone teasing and unserious as he sighs out dreamily. 

“He is, actually.” I admit for the first time. 

“What?!” He shouts in surprise. “What?! Who?! Since when?!” 

“Let me answer the phone, Josh.”

“When the fuck did this happen?!” 

“Back in March—”

“March?! That’s two months!” 

“I’ll—Josh, I’ll tell you everything when I see you, alright?”

“Tabby has a boyfriend!” He calls to the boys, and I hear Sam’s distant, “What?!”

“Josh—”

“Since when?!” Sam adds, Josh immediately replying, “Since March!”

“March?!” 

“That’s what I said!” 

“Honey, I have to go!” I raise my voice in order for him to hear it over his own. 

“Oh, oh, yeah, duh, take care, we’ll see you at the show!” He’s finally pulled back to the phone. 

“I’ll see you guys then.” I nod, the both of us simultaneously ending the conversation with, “Love you,” before he’s hanging up. 

“Hello?” I answer the call, waiting to hear Cass’ voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, baby, we’re eating at Chili’s.” 

The palm of my hand smacks into my forehead. 

“That’s what Lee wanted?” I question it, having eaten so much Chili’s in the last four years of living here to last a lifetime. 

“Yep.” 

Standing up, I kick my heels off and start tugging at the zipper of my dress as I say, “Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

“Alrighty.”

Cass was a domestic decision I made in the midst of a small crisis, yearning for something that resembled stability once my college career had come to a close. 

I used the last three years of school as an excuse to focus on studies and avidly keep away from relationships—though the reality of my singleness only stemmed from the disappointment I knew would follow any partner I claimed because they weren’t who I wanted. 

A particular brunette I met in a bar was no exception. I only convinced myself that he would be for the sake of not being alone anymore. 

But there was a staleness to us, a distance that I’ve come to realize I was keeping to maintain some form of control over the situation. 

Two months and we had only kissed a handful of times, let alone explored one another in any sense of the word. 

The thought of it made my stomach turn the first time I entertained it. 

I was attracted to him—but physical attraction and sexual attraction are two different beasts and I fought every urge to recoil from him each time a hand would wander behind closed doors, eventually telling him I wanted to wait to have any form of sex until marriage just to nip it in the bud. 

Watching my knife dig into the steak on my plate, I loosely listen as Lee and Cass carry on about Basketball—the very sport Cass is currently sifting through job openings to pair with his Bachelor’s Degree in History. 

At some point my mind blurs as exhaustion and my margarita join hands, my hand shoveling a bite of food to my mouth while my eyes struggle to stay open. 

“So, I’ve got you a position.” Sierra says to me, next, as the boys continue, perking my ears and piquing my curiosity. 

“What?” 

“At the gym.” She nods, pushing her pasta around her plate as she refers to my old job I worked while in high school at the gymnastics and cheer center she acquired when I was in middle school. “Of course with modifications—because you need to be careful with your back—but if you’re interested in something you can put your Kinesiology degree to good use for…even if it’s just for the Summer,” Her eyes flicker to Cass who’s laughing at something my brother’s saying, her implication being that I might be coming back to Texas after a brief few month hiatus in Frankenmuth. 

Her implication would be entirely incorrect and I let her know with an immediate, “It won’t be just for the summer.”

It’s now that Cass and Lee are startled from their exchange, trailing off as I say it, an unsteady quiet falling over us as my boyfriend clears his throat. 

He knew what I wanted to do before he and I became exclusive, but I also understand his fantasy of convincing me to stay here with him. 

“I’m, uh, going up with y’all for a few days to kinda check everything out.” Cass adds to my brother. “To see how I like it, you know, if things work out between us.” 

“Oh.” Sierra takes a sip of her beer and adds in a cheerful tone, “Oh, you’ll get to meet everyone.”

“Um, I don’t think we’ll have time for all that.” I shake my head, dreading the thought of introducing him to everyone so soon. 

He’s just now getting to meet the people who took up the mantle of being my parents. I can’t imagine bombarding him with families who have played a hand in raising me. 

It’s too much too soon. 

“Well, the show’s Tuesday, Tabby, we’re all going out with the boys after so it’s a perfect opportunity to introduce everyone.” Lee mindlessly throws out, motioning to Cass as he says so, prompting my boyfriend to look at me as if waiting for my permission. 

“They’re gonna be tired. They won’t feel like going through the motions of meeting anybody.” I adamantly stick to my guns and my brother quirks a brow at me while Cass rubs at the back of his neck, more than likely catching waves of my irritation and hatred for the idea of introducing him to my friends…two of which I’ve shared something more than platonic companionship with before. 

Cass knew my childhood best friends were on the up as rockstars, and I know for a fact he could see how I’d slip into a daze anytime I’d go on about them, their talent, the outpouring of unadulterated magic that would infiltrate any room they’d step into—all the more quickly if music were being created in their presence. 

However, he didn’t realize Josh was my ex-boyfriend, and Lee and Sierra had agreed to keep mum on the topic. 

He, of course, also did not realize that Jake and I had caught ourselves in some kerfuffle that we couldn’t even explain to ourselves or each other, let alone anyone else that we took interest in—so we didn’t.

“I don’t think they’ll mind.” Lee won’t let it go, either, insisting it. “I know Josh would love to meet you.” He assures Cass, next. 

“He would.” I don’t even deny the fact that Josh will probably be harassing me to meet the ever mysterious partner I’ve suddenly sprung on him. “But probably after their tour is wrapped up and they aren’t as pressed on time.”

“Yeah, but Cass will be back down here by then.” My brother chuckles out, cluelessly. 

It’s now that I see Sierra move subtly under the table, either kicking my brother or nudging him, to which he stops drinking his soda mid-sip and looks at her. 

“Well, why y’all work through this, I’m gonna run to the men’s room.” Cass isn’t dumb to the fact this is clearly a conversation I’m running from while screaming like a wild banshee internally. 

He pats my leg and slides out of the booth, a smile on my face until he turns the corner.

My heel collides with Lee’s leg as Sierra elbows him, and a sharp, “What the hell are you doing?” grits from my teeth. 

“Ow! Damn!” He bites back. “What the hell are you doing?” He says to me. “What’s the problem with him meeting everyone? He’s contemplating moving up there possibly, ain’t he?” 

“Just because he’s thinking about it, doesn’t mean I want him to right now, Lee. Stop encouraging it.” 

“What am I encouraging?” Genuinely confused, he looks at Sierra and I, waiting for one of us to give him some clue as to what the big deal is. 

“We’ve only been together a couple months. I don’t want him moving to Frankenmuth anytime soon because if it doesn’t work out, he’ll be there.” 

“What the fuck does that have to do with him meeting your friends and family, T.J.?” He questions reasonably. 

“Because.” Is all I can spit out, biting my tongue before I tipsily confess my sins.

“Because…?” He waves his hand, waiting for me to enlighten him on what is so horrid about introducing someone I care about to more people I care about. 

“It’s complicated, Lee.”

“Oh, dear Lord.” He complains, rubbing his forehead. “Why the hell are y’all always so cryptic?” He adds, looking at Sierra before once more glaring at me. “I mean, if you like him, and like him enough to want to take him back home and show him around, then why not want him to meet everyone? It’s not complicated!”

“Josh is her ex, Lee, Cass doesn’t know that.” Sierra says softly as he rolls his eyes. “Not everyone may be on the same page of feeling the need to let her tell him that on her own time.” 

“I don’t know why you haven’t told him already. It was three years ago. Josh moved on, you moved on. What does it matter, now?” 

“Because if I tell him, then he’ll want to know why we broke up. And I’m not telling him that because it’s not mine to tell, and then it’ll be this whole situation.” It’s not a complete lie, my conservation of the details of Josh and mine’s split is something I’ve held sacred to me to keep his privacy protected. 

It’s now that Lee seems to understand a bit more, sighing out as he states, “I think if you talk to everybody, they’ll get it, and will go along with it.”

I agree, but then that leaves me with no other reason or excuse to keep the two parts of my life separated. 

“I just want to leave it alone for now, okay?” I plead, stirring my drink. 

It’s now that Lee winces just slightly and says, “…So…I’m guessing now is a bad time to tell you that I already bought a ticket for him to come to the show with us?” 

If I could come across the table and ring my brother’s neck, I would, but I can’t because Cass is returning and plopping back down next to me. 

His face shows his hopefulness that we’ve embarked on a different course of conversation, so we all do just that. 

It was a conversation that was never touched on again—even with the never-ending opportunities to hash it out during the eighteen hour car ride we had back to Frankenmuth due to Lee’s reluctance to get on an airplane, which was something else he bonded with Cass over. 

Cass never asked about it, and I never told, my lips cemented shut on the matter. 

My cheeks ache from smiling so hard, and I nearly jump up and down at the first sight of Josh taking the stage. 

Watching him as he does his signature plight of crowd-work, met with chuckles and whistles at his, “Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em” joke, eyes scanning the crowd as he talks just a few moments while the guys speedily ensure their instruments are prepared and ready. 

It’s when he sees me that his already painfully wide grin seems to double, his tongue catching between his white teeth as he shoots me a wink and I return it, the pat on the back I’ve offered him with each show of theirs I’ve witnessed for myself from the crowd. 

His small talk is abruptly put to an end by the shroud of cheers to follow the first chord of Highway Tune that shreds softly through the air, caressed with Josh’s faint vocals that only build and grow louder, giving way to the full of his voice that cuts through the complimentary blare of guitar, bass and drums like butter. 

The room lights up with energy I haven’t felt since the days of their four-hour long tirades in which their dad would end up having to unplug equipment to get them to take a break. 

I don’t believe Cass has looked at them once, even by the time we reach the second chorus, feeling his eyes fixed on me as I’m screaming out the lyrics of the song, one of my hands wrapped around an aluminum bottle of beer with the other reached out, pointing to the singer who’s quickly pointing back at me with the “All mine” that leaves him, sending the girls surrounding us into a frenzy. 

I’m only pulled from my free-running joy by the feeling of Cass slipping his hand around my waist. 

Shrugging him off as subtly and kindly as possible, I look at him and fan my face, leaning up close to him to say, “I’m too hot right now,” as they roll through the breakdown, Josh’s clapping hands meeting over his head, the crowd’s own following suit. 

Cass doesn’t argue, though I can tell he’s trying not to let my sly rejection bruise his ego too badly. 

Hoping to smooth it over, I stand on my tip-toes and bring his lips to mine as an overtly aggressive version of the guitar riff I hear in my sleep at this point, pulls my attention. 

Pulled from the kiss of another, I lock eyes with him. 

There’s a tense bite in his jaw as he clenches it, nearly belligerent with his talent as he briefly watches me a moment longer behind the frizzy brown tresses that now frame his face and fall to his shoulders, all while his brother once more lets out his belt over the music as Sam and Danny join them at their capacity, filling the song out in its completion. 

Rolling my eyes at Jake’s feat in the measuring contest that Cass has no inkling of an idea is even taking place, I take another drink of my alcohol, staring at him utterly unamused. 

The last glimpse he gives me the entire night is one of victory: smug and cocky as his mouth tries to conceal the smirk that so badly wants out. 

His interest in who I’m with tonight rubs me in a way I can’t fathom.

I’m not worth his time, but he can’t tolerate me being worth anybody else’s, either. 

The older I’ve gotten the more I’ve come to realize he did the right thing by not jumping off the deep end with me right away after everything happened with Josh and I. 

He was a voice of reason–albeit one that bittered me to hear–but wise, nonetheless. 

And after that show, as I nearly felt I was going to explode with utter exultation at how well their set went, and how excited I was to see them perform once again, the man that I had arrived with—and had gotten so irritated at Jake for already feeling vexed by—already started to fall to the back of my mind, despite standing right next to me, as soon as I got to reunite with them. 

I feel like my lungs are being crushed in the best way possible, squeezing Josh just as tightly as he’s holding onto me while I’m whispering how proud of them I am. My throat tightens and my voice shakes from the threat of tears, his head nodding as I speak.

Their families had already been greeted by them after their set, Lee, Sierra and I decided to wait and give them that time together. 

It wasn’t until the venue was nearly void of anybody but employees and the boys had wound down some and had time to calm down from the adrenaline of the stage that Karen texted Sierra the information of their hotel—and I know God laughs upon seeing me realize it’s the same hotel Cass and I are staying at until he returns home 

As soon as my heels hit the pavement of the hotel parking lot, I was bombarded.

I sniffle, finally pulling away to carefully wipe at my under-eyes, Josh’s lips pressing a two kiss to my cheek before he’s gently dotting the skin there with the pad of his thumb with a laugh, tears lining his own eyes while mine look up until he’s done. “And I like this.” I add, my fingertips running along the sides of his head that are trimmed down to his scalp, leaving the curly locks toward the top of his head longer.

“Oh, thank you. It’s such a bitch to manage but I just push through it for the sake of vanity because at least one of us has to look good, you know?” He informs me before Sam teeters closer he and Danny both now standing at least six inches taller than me.

“Holy shit you’ve gotten taller since Christmas.” I blurt, a ragged breath leaving as more water works are at risk of coming into play, my cheek now pressing to his chest when he hugs me, my arm extending toward Danny, getting ahold of him next. 

Jake is nowhere to be seen, fitting as always when it comes to me, apparently. 

I pat Danny’s back a couple times as I’m quickly reminded my boyfriend is present, waiting patiently to greet my friends while Sierra and Lee hug Sam, moving to Danny as I step closer to Josh and Cass.

“Oh, guys, this is Cass,” I wipe my eyes once more, clearing my throat as I motion to him, Josh’s hand immediately extending, as a warm, “I’m Josh, it’s nice to meet you,” leaves him. 

Sam and Danny are quick to follow with the same welcome, immediately trying to dig into what part of Texas he’s from due to his accent while I turn my head to look for the last fourth of the band in the dark, quiet lot. 

“He’s up in the room.” Josh is whispering it to me, as if he’s read my mind that’s endlessly roaming to someone other than the man at my side. 

“Why?” I ask hushedly. 

“The same reason you two don’t see one another when you’ve come home to visit.” He replies, looking at Cass and his little brother laughing together over something Baby Kiszka has said, while Lee and Sierra listen along with Danny. “A reason that he’s held to himself with a fucking death grip, by the way.” He adds, a seriousness washing over him, concern and worry swirling his eyes at the thought that something sordid has occurred that’s ruined over ten years of friendship between Jake and I and he just can’t crack the code.

He knows it’s not something as petty as our argument over Spencer those years ago.

He knows it goes deeper than that, frying us both from the inside out with rancid acridity, poisoning us against one another all the more. 

I don’t say anything else to him, unable to find anything to say at all.

Once we get dinner at the run-down chain diner that’s a driveway away from their hotel, our meal shared with memories being divulged to Cass to somewhat loop him in to how we met, and the crucial cornerstones of coming of age we’ve participated in one another’s lives, integrally. 

How I’d lovingly be referred to as “The Tail Feathers” because when Josh or Jake moved, I was always right behind them.

It leads to Lee dramatically rehashing the argument he and I had that supported everyone’s “tail feather” theory. 

It was when I told him I wasn’t going to college, and that I was going to run around with my friends and their band, instead. 

What he left out was that it ended in us screaming at the top of our lungs at one another, slamming the door behind me and crying viciously while Lee called Josh’s parents and calmly ranted to them how their sons should not be encouraging me to forfeit my own dreams to chase him around the globe. 

Everyone thankfully spares the details of mine and Josh’s relationship playing a big part in my decision to blow school off and stay with him. 

Cass opens up more and more, coaxed with their humor and genuine curiosity of him, explaining his upbringing in a household where his father was a preacher and managed a Rescue Mission Center and his mom worked as a nurse practitioner—the strict structure he grow up under meant he was sheltered until he went to college, whereas the rest of us were twenty-one years old when we only had fifteen/sixteen years of age on us. 

“Have you met his parents yet?” Sam asks me on the topic, and I shake my head and look at Cass. 

“I’ve been trying to spare her.” He laughs it off, knowing already that his parents won’t like me. 

I talk too explicitly, listen to secular music too loudly, and turn to alcohol over prayer when things get hard. 

They’d probably lay eyes on me and believe the spirit of discernment is telling them to beat me off of their son with stones. 

I see the concerned expression of Josh’s face, as if he’s imagining the same outcome, not particularly liking the idea of anyone looking down on me. 

“How do you feel about that?” Josh asks him. 

“I’m trying to get them to open up some to other people with different views and opinions, but they’re stubborn about a lot of it. They lost their minds when I let it slip that she and I met at a bar.” He nods to me. “So, I’m trying to put off introducing them because I don’t want them to be asses to her—even though I think it’ll roll off her back if they are.” He smiles at me. 

“Until she turns into a goddamn diamond-back.” Lee interjects. “And strikes until she hits the jugular.”

“I do not.” I argue, trying to keep my tone light-hearted. 

“You and Jake got into it, what, three years ago and haven’t talked since.” Sam chuckles out—apparently having been cued into what’s taken place between his brother and I. 

I recall Josh informing me his brother’s kept a tight lip about what exactly transpired between us. 

Is that what Jake’s telling them? That we’re still on the outs because of a petty argument over some boy I hooked up with after my break up?

“Jake? Is that…?” Cass snaps his fingers as he tries to get his tired mind to cooperate with his mouth and the boys wait for him to put it together, “Guitar player, and your twin?” He points to Josh who lets out a celebratory, “There ya go!” with a clap. 

“The pouting adult wielding his music like a defense mechanism,” I want to say aloud but keep it in my mind, clearing my throat as Cass looks at me. 

My emotions are hung on my face like some kind of exhibit, my heart always plastered to my forehead instead of my sleeve. 

“What happened with you two?” He laughs, reading my sour expression as an overzealous attempt to hold to a grudge. 

“I’d gladly speak to him if he would acknowledge me.” I shrug, not bothering to try to cover my hurt with a giggle, eyeing his little brother who brought this up. 

“You gotta go to him first, Tab. He’s stubborn.” Sam reminds me, shaking his head. 

“Immature.” I correct him. 

I’ve pissed on our good time, it appears, the fun being soaked out of the air as an awkward cough leaves Sierra and she checks her phone. 

“Oh, damn, it’s almost midnight.” She nudges Lee. 

“Yeah, let me go pay and we’ll go.” My brother stands, pushing his chair back under the table. 

Cass grabs his wallet while I reach for my purse. 

“I got it.” He and Josh both say simultaneously to me, stopping to look at one another. 

“I’m good for it.” Cass insists. 

“No, no, I got it.” Josh retorts. 

“She’s my girlfriend, man, it’s sacrilegious not to pay for her where I’m from.” He assures my ex-boyfriend, not leaving room for an argument while he steps with my brother to go pay our bill. 

“I’m sacrilegious where he’s from.” I mutter to them, Sam nearly choking on his drink as Josh looks at me with the pitiful look of someone witnessing a puppy getting kicked. “I’ve been losing my fucking mind for three years, boys. You don’t know how grateful I am to breathe in Michigan again.” 

“I’m sorry about bringing up the Jake thing.” Sam adds, lowly, and I wave my hand to disregard it. 

“You’re fine, Sammy. It’s fine. I’m sorry for being kinda bitchy, I'm just ready to get somewhere and be by myself.” I admit, watching as my sister-in-law passes back by to head to the bathroom. 

“So, no after-party in our room?” Baby Kiszka quirks mischievous brow. 

I flick my eyes to Josh who only smiles. 

“It’s already late—don’t wanna get in the way of anyone’s sleep.” I state honestly, 

“It’ll take a few hours for us to really calm down enough to go to sleep and start over again, Tabby.” Josh jumps in, adding, “We don’t get to talk like we used to, anymore–” He leans in closer, lowering his voice as Lee and Cass head back our way, “And we can’t catch up on everything with certain people around.”

My mind goes to the thought of Jake being sound and resting, only to be woken up by his brothers busting into the room accompanied by me. 

“I don’t want to piss Jake off anymore than he already is.” I say quietly as Cass stands and waits for me to get out of the booth. 

“He’ll be fine.” 

It’s convincing enough for me to stand and explain the plan to Cass as the boys go to pay. 

We all start to trek back to the hotel after bidding my brother and Sierra goodnight, our path illuminated by the village of lodging options sharing one huge lot as I continue on after asking if I can join the guys for a few minutes of catching up, “I haven’t got to see them in so long, baby, and we don’t talk all that much because they stay so busy right now—”

“--Go for it, Tabitha.” He says it before I can even get it out my mouth, no questions asked or suspicions pressed. 

“Are you sure?” I don’t care, truly, if he has an issue with it or not—I’d go regardless, but ask anyway. 

“You ain’t seen them in months and they’re gone again tomorrow. All we’d do is go up and go to bed anyway.” He reminds me with a chuckle and a shrug. 

We stop, my hand taking a hold of his, my lips pulling into a smile before he leans down. 

“Get a room!” Sam’s voice loudly carries through the parking lot, stalling us both as we blink at one another. 

“I call him, ‘Baby Kiszka’ for a reason.” I say to Cass as Danny’s scolding, “Sam, people are asleep!” while Josh laughs.

“Get in the hotel.” I grit through my teeth like an irritated mother, sharing the same sentiment as Danny, pointing at Sam as they step by us, causing him to dart away from me. “We’re gonna get a fucking complaint and haven’t even been here two seconds.” I add to the youngest Kiszka when we get inside and approach the elevator. 

“Throwing a T.V. out the window, destroying a room, getting kicked out…we’re musicians, it’s the burden we must bear.” 

“Second floor.” Cass tells them with a laugh as we get inside the elevator, and they press the “4” for themselves. “We’re two floors away.” Cass corrects himself from earlier, nudging me. 

“I’ll try not to get into too much trouble.” I retort, causing Josh to scoff out, “Hmm,” fighting to stomp out a laugh or grin at many memories involving any combination of us doing absolutely nothing but no good. 

“Yes, we’re reformed now.” Josh promises him, next, calmly.

Cass cuts a glance at me.

Just in time, the doors open to allow him off. 

“Ah, would you look at that.” I comment, getting a, “Yeah, look at that,” from him.

He kisses my cheek and waves his hand to the boys once as he pipes, “It was nice to meet y’all. Y’all be careful on the road.” 

They all echo sentiments regarding how lovely it was to meet him before he’s stepping off, leaving us all alone in the elevator.

I finally let out a deep breath, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes. 

“He’s really nice.” Danny tells me, first, and I nod. 

“He is.” 

“And handsome.” Sam adds. 

Then Josh cuts through the pleasantries to ask me, “Are you happy with him?” 

“Mmm,” I think, my hesitation in itself answering his question, “I’m waiting for it.” 

They furrow their brows. 

“What does that mean?” Sam questions. 

“I mean, I’m certainly not unhappy—but I’m just…you know…I don’t know, maybe it’s just been all the stress from finals and stuff but it just doesn’t feel…” I struggle to find the word. “…Which, maybe that’s just how adult relationships feel. There’s no…” I can’t quite say it, not knowing exactly how to, so I settle on, “Oomph.” 

“Boring?” Sam suggests to which I wince.

“That’s a little harsh.” I reply, the doors opening to free us, not wanting to confess that’s exactly how it feels. “But he’s mentally sound, has a plan for life and is really sweet so I’m waiting for the other good stuff to follow.”

“I don’t think someone just suddenly gets jumped with unbridled passion for someone they haven’t felt it for.” Sammy chuckles, knowing so little of the memories twisting across my mind when he says it.

“Now, now, Sam, we’re not going to dismiss all that passion might possess when it chooses to present itself months into a winded relationship. There’s hope yet, Tabby.” Josh assures me. 

“Yeah, I guess.” I falsely agree as we approach their room. 

“Our humble abode.” Sam says to me as he motions to the door as Josh fishes for the key, only to pat down his pockets and look to the two other boys. “…Are we locked out of the humble abode?” 

“No.” Josh scoffs, grabbing his phone. 

“I don’t know I’m getting the vibe that we are.” Danny leans against the wall. 

“Shh, you’re gonna wake the neighbors with your bitching.” Josh shushes, waiting as the phone rings. 

Faintly, we hear Jake’s phone inside ringing. 

“Let us in, please. I’m afraid.” Josh says into the phone when Jake answers, his brown eyes darting up and down the long hallway that’s eerily silent, his mind probably piecing together some breaktaking horror scenario that could be orchestrated here. 

Jake says something back to his brother that I can’t pick up over the sound of my heart thumping in my chest. 

“Oh, gee, I don’t know, Jake…I guess I left it in the room. Open the damn door.” He flatly says to his brother’s probable smart-ass remark. 

Hanging up, steps approach from the inside of the door, before pausing. 

I swear there’s a faint, “Fuck,” that pushes past the heavy wood of the door as the deadbolt’s being unlocked prior to the door knob being turned. 

The door is snatched open, and here he stands. 

Disheveled and shirtless in nothing but black boxers—my guess is that he’s either been in bed or strumming amongst himself—his hair is darkened all the more from being damp from a shower, and despite the fact I’m nearly hiding behind Sam and Danny, I’m the first out of the four of us in this hallway that his shadowy eyes sink their hooks into. 

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka smut #jake gvf #josh gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #josh kiszka #greta van fleet

[mexicancat-girl]

Ooh how about #80 for your favorite pairing?

Thanks for the ask @uchidachi and sorry it took a few days! I ended up writing 4k words and filling a day for my OTP's pairing month that passed in November.

So thanks again for the prompt, it really got the writing juices flowing!

Also posted to AO3 here

Different, But The Same

Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg

Rated T, 3911 words

...

Nathaniel loves Marc with his entire heart.

Maybe it’s just him being young and stupid. Getting attached to the first boyfriend he’s ever had. To the first person he’s ever dated, really, discounting taking Marinette out on a date as Evillustrator.

But no one’s ever made Nathaniel feel the way Marc does. The way Marc’s smile makes his heart flutter and his insides warm, makes him feel safe and seen. How Marc’s laughs always gets Nathaniel to laugh along, buoyed by the other’s joy. How they can be sitting together doing nothing at all, and it still feels monumental because he’s spending time with Marc. The time he spends with Marc makes him feel different, makes him feel better.

Nathaniel adores Marc, but he knows Marc could do better than him. Deserves better than him.

After all, Nathaniel’s hurt Marc. Got him Akumatized that first day they knew each other.

Who the hell dates the person that got them Akumatized…? Either someone very stupid or very kind, and Nathaniel knows Marc isn’t stupid. He’s got top grades, one of the smartest kids in Mendeleiev’s homeroom.

So, Marc is kind. Ridiculously so. To be able to forgive Nathaniel for ruining his journal and getting him Akumatized all because of a misunderstanding and Nathaniel’s paranoia. And not only forgive Nathaniel, but to work on a comic with him. To be his friend. To… To date Nathaniel.

Nathaniel knows Marc can do better, knows he’s a burden. Nathaniel’s difficult to deal with.

He’s incredibly introverted and anti-social. It’s hard to take him out anywhere before his social battery drains and he needs to leave after just a few minutes. He gets overwhelmed easily, hates crowds and sudden noises. He gets twitchy and scared and runs away all the time from danger. He has a short attention span and is always drawing all over his schoolwork because of his ADHD. He has a hard time working with others. He’s been burned too many times before in group projects where he’s had to do all the work, or situations where he’s ignored and forgotten completely.

Already, Nathaniel knows he’s a bother, that he’s no good with people. And that’s not accounting his bad temper. He blows up harshly after he’s been wound up from stress. He’s constantly anxious and worried that people are making fun of him or waiting to ruin his things, not in short part because of Chloe’s bullying. And that leaves him with the tendency to lash out when things pile up too much.

It’s what led him to react so harshly to Marc that fateful day, at the fountain. Thinking he’d been getting tricked, because having someone so pretty and kind compliment his artwork and meet him alone, only for him to be recorded the entire time—that’s just another setup for humiliation. So Nathaniel lashed out. He realized right afterwards he’d done something terrible when Marc looked so horrified and cried about the ruined notebook, but it was too late, and—

Nathaniel apologizes often to Marc about it. Marc keeps shaking his head and insisting, “you don’t need to keep doing this, Nath, it’s in the past.” And they keep hanging out, building newer and happier memories together in the art room and by the fountain.

Even when Marc accepted Nathaniel’s offer for a date, a little voice inside the artist had been telling him to wait for the other shoe to drop. That Marc will date him, and at any point realize that he’s too good for Nathaniel. That Marc deserves better than Nathaniel and will break up with him. And it’d hurt, but at least they’d still have the comic. Nathaniel can live with that.

But they’ve been dating for two months know. In middle schooler time, that’s insanely long. The only other couples that beat them out of going steady for so long are Ivan and Mylene, Juleka and Rose, and Alya and Nino—in that exact order.

So maybe there’s something there. Maybe—maybe their relationship lasting so long is a sign. A good sign.

Unless Marc is only putting up with you because he doesn’t want to lose you as his artist for the comic, says a vicious voice in his head, because why else would he bother putting up with someone as lazy and hard to deal with as you?

Nathaniel’s always feeling his best when he’s with Marc, feeling like he’s at the top of the world with Marc’s laugh and smile and kisses. But afterwards he’ll feel so low, his doubts come flooding in like an unstoppable storm. Sure, Marc seems to enjoy their dates. But what if it’s less because Nathaniel is a good boyfriend and more because Marc is nice and has low expectations?

Before long, Nathaniel’s stomach is twisting itself into knots out of pure nerves. He can’t sleep at night. Sometimes he launches himself from his bed to dry-heave in the bathroom. What if what if what if echoing in his mind.

Maybe he deserves it. Maybe it’s a small price to pay, for being so terrible. Maybe Marc should just get it over with and break it off, stop pretending to put up with him, so he doesn’t have to keep waiting for it.

Then again, maybe he deserves this torture. After getting Marc Akumatized, maybe this is the way he can repay all the pain he caused.

Maybe maybe maybe.

---

Nathaniel’s tired and irritable and scatterbrained today at school. Well, more than usual, that is.

Him and Marc are in the art room, like always. They’re working on their comic, like always.

At least they would be if Nathaniel wasn’t feeling so sluggish and getting nothing done. Just a bunch of dumb scribbles with terrible anatomy, fit to be ripped out of his sketchbook and chucked into the garbage.

“Nath… Have you been getting enough sleep?” Marc asks worriedly after the artist throws his pencil down in frustration.

“I haven’t,” Nathaniel bites out. He buries his face against his hands, fingers curling and tugging on his hair. He takes a few deep breaths in and out, like his anger management coach has told him to do when he feels overwhelmed. It helps, especially when Marc rubs his back in comfort.

“You know, maybe we should go outside and get some fresh air today. It’s nice out,” his boyfriend says sweetly, voice a soothing balm. “Everyone keeps telling us we work too hard, anyways. A break will do us both a lot of good.”

“Okay,” Nathaniel chokes out, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes to keep his tears at bay. Marc’s a life saver. It’s like he knows just what to say to help. Nathaniel takes a few more deep breaths until his heartrate is back to normal and he doesn’t feel like breaking down. He drops his hands and gives his boyfriend a grateful smile. “Okay. Thanks, Marc.”

“Of course,” Marc responds warmly with an equally warm smile. Then he turns to pack Nathaniel’s things up for him. “C’mon. I know you’re allergic to sunshine, but it’ll be good for you, I swear.”

The artist snorts. “Oh, haha,” he says sarcastically, but a smile tugs on his lips as he takes his bookbag from Marc. He leans in to give Marc a quick peck in thanks, earning a shy smile with flushed cheeks from his boyfriend. “You don’t have to drag me outside all the time. I’m a big boy, I can walk.”

“Tell that to Miss Bustier next time you want to skip gym class. I literally had to drag you by the hand to get you to show up for soccer,” Marc shoots back, stuffing his notebook in his bag and shouldering it. He grabs Nathaniel’s free hand and presses a kiss against his hair.

“That was one time, okay. Will you ever let me live it down?” Nathaniel whines.

“Nope,” Marc responds sunnily with an impish tilt to his smile. “Not when soccer’s my favorite sport. I’ll always remember you not wanting to play.”

“I still showed up in the end to balance out the teams…” the redhead pouts, walking with his boyfriend as they exit the art room and make their way down the hall.

“You did! And I’m proud. That was a big thing for you, Nath,” Marc nods, swinging their connected hands slightly.

Nathaniel ducks his head, flustered. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just did what I had to—”

“Well, sometimes those are the hardest things to do.”

He’s just saying that, Nathaniel thinks as he bites his lip and glances up at Marc, he’s just being nice. He probably still thinks you were a whiny brat and totally lazy for not wanting to go in the first place.

“The hardest things to do…” he mutters as he turns his attention back to their path as they exit the school, heading towards the park.

Nathaniel never has to make hard decisions or have hard things to do. He’s just so scatterbrained and cowardly, even simple tasks get blown up into a huge production in his head. It used to be worse when he was younger, though, without getting diagnosed with ADHD and getting the medication for it. But still…

The hardest thing to do… Nathaniel thinks he knows what that would be, as he sees the fountain in the distance. The place that holds so many memories, not all of them good…

“A comic book? Us…? Never!” The memory of his cruelty echoes thickly in his ears, making Nathaniel wilt. His palms get gross and clammy. His stomach twists itself into knots so hard he feels like he wants to throw up.

It’s a relief to sit down on the edge of the fountain, his knees weak and wobbly. Marc looks at him with such sweet concern just then, it makes him feel supremely guilty. “Nath? Do you want to go home instead? I’ll walk you back—”

“Don’t,” Nathaniel chokes out, ripping his hand away from Marc’s so he can rub the sweat away on his thighs.

He feels his heartrate thump in his ears as he tries to breath. Is he having a panic attack? He’s not sure.

“Nath, do you want me to touch you?” Marc asks softly.

“No,” he says firmly, gripping his knees tight as he tries to do some breathing exercises. He’s so fucking pathetic. Why is he like this…? “No, I—Marc.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I just. Please.” He takes one last shuddering breath, and decides, he’ll do it. He’ll make the hard decision. “Please just break it off already.”

There’s a long silence then. Nathaniel’s too cowardly to look at the other’s reaction, but he hears the other gasp in shock.

“What?” Marc says, alarmed, and then there’s a hand on his. Those familiar fingerless gloves glint slightly in the sunlight as Marc’s painted nails thread through his. “Nath, please. What are you talking about…?

“Dump me,” Nathaniel chokes out, “I—I’m a fucking mess, Marc. You don’t deserve putting up with me.”

“Don’t deserve—are you even listening to yourself?” Marc demands, sounding angry than anything. Nathaniel can’t help but cringe, making himself small and shying away. He tries to pull his hand from Marc’s, but the other just holds onto his hand tighter.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s taken me this long to make you happy. I should’ve let you be free sooner—”

“Nathaniel, no,” the writer says firmly. “No I’m not—I’m not forced into this relationship with you. You’re not letting me be free by breaking up with me.” Well, that’s a bit hard to believe, since he’s such a burden— “Nath, look at me.”

Nathaniel flinches. Marc sounds furious—more furious than he’s ever sounded before. But Nathaniel does what he says, looking up at Marc through his bangs.

“How can you think any of this? How can you say those things about yourself?” Marc demands, tears budding in his pretty emerald eyes. Nathaniel gapes back at him, panicked at seeing the other nearly crying from frustration.

“Marc—”

“No. You listen here, Nathaniel Kurtzberg. I like being with you,” he states, thick with emotion. Using his free hand, he swipes at his eyes. “I just—if you didn’t want to date me, fine. People break up all the time, and I’m not the easiest to deal with, either. I get too emotional. I used to have panic attacks once a week. I’m sure anyone would get sick from that.”

“Marc…” Nathaniel gasps, squeezing his hand back. “Marc, no. I—You’re amazing. I don’t hold your panic attacks against you—”

“Then why…? Why are you saying that I ‘put up with you’, if that’s not what you’re doing with me?”

And that’s when the flood comes, unbidden as Nathaniel babbles out, “I—you’re way more outgoing than me. People—people like you more. You’re smart and talented and so fucking nice. You’ve got top grades, and you’re the star of the soccer team. You could be dating anyone you wanted to, Marc. Anyone. So why settle for a—a stupid, lazy, hard-to-please loser like me?”

Nathaniel pants for breath after his torrent of word-vomit. He’s never said all these things aloud before to Marc, all these insecurities.

“…You really think that about yourself?” Marc asks quietly, emerald eyes shining with more unshed tears. “Nathaniel… I’m not settling for you. You are the sweetest, funniest, most genuine person I’ve ever met. You’re such a talented artist, it seems like every time I look over at you, you’re improving leaps and bounds. But you don’t have an ego, and you’re modest, and you’re so passionate about what you make it inspires me. You inspire me, each and every day.”

Nathaniel gapes back in shock, stunned silent by the other’s raw thoughts.

“It feels like I’m the one lucky to have you as my boyfriend. So don’t you dare say that I should dump you when you’re the only person I ever wanted to be with so hard it hurts. Unless you hate me and our relationship, then fine, dump me—”

“No! No—Marc, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Nathaniel confesses frantically, clutching back at Marc’s hand like a lifeline.

Marc’s hard expression softens, thumb swiping Nathaniel’s knuckles. “So are you.”

“Even after I got you Akumatized?” he asks in a thin, disbelieving voice.

“Oh, Nathaniel…” Marc says with feeling, a look of heartbreak on his pretty face. He carefully raises his hands, giving Nathaniel enough time to see what he’s going to do before cupping his face. “Is that what all this is about?”

Nathaniel’s lips tremble. “You should hate me, for what I did.”

Marc shakes his head. “That’s long in the past. And I don’t hate you. I never have.” He leans in to gently press their foreheads together. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

Nathaniel finds himself letting out a shuddering breath. He searches those bright green depths. Waiting to see an ounce of dishonesty or discontent. But all Nathaniel can see is an honesty so genuine, it makes him ache.

“I just—” he starts, voice cracking. “I was such an asshole to you that day.”

“You’re different today than you were back then,” Marc adds softly, still cradling the artist’s face with such tenderness it makes tears prick in his eyes. “Why would I still hate you after everything you’ve done for me, everything we’ve been through together…? You’ve apologized so many times to me, Nath. And I’ve forgiven you a long time ago.”

“I… I’m sorry,” Nathaniel chokes out, before he’s sobbing like he’s five years old instead of fifteen.

“Oh, Nath…” Marc sighs. He quickly pulls the artist’s head down to lie against the crook of his neck and shoulder before wrapping him in a hug. Nathaniel buries his head against Marc’s neck, shuddering out sobs and tears of pure relief and adoration.

“You love me… You love me,” he warbles out, clutching back to Marc fiercely.

Marc’s arms just tighten around him in response, their bodies swaying slightly as comforting things slip past his lips. “Shhh, Nath. It’s okay. I love you so much… Let it out. I’ll still be here for you…”

It takes a good minute or two, but Nathaniel finally cries himself out, hiccupping and gasping for breath. Marc’s neck and the edge of his hoodie is soaked in tears, but Marc’s warm and comforting as he rocks them both in their embrace. It helps the artist push past the faint feeling of embarrassment as he basks in Marc’s love and care.

He always feels so warm and safe and comfortable with Marc. It’s just the little niggling in the back of his mind, that voice of anxiety and paranoia that insists that Marc hates him, that ruins his time with his comic partner. Marc’s one of his best friends even before they started dating. Their bond only grew closer once they got together romantically.

Nathaniel felt lucky he could have such an amazing, talented, kind, gorgeous boy to be by his side. He felt like he was living something too good to be true. That he didn’t deserve Marc.

But he does. He deserves Marc—because Marc loves him. Thinks Nathaniel is worthy to love him just as much as he loves Nathaniel. And that should be enough, shouldn’t it…?

Nathaniel feels lighter, now. His stomach stops twisting into knots, his heart slowing it’s frantic beating driven by fear and shame. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“Thanks, Marc,” Nathaniel says with a sniffle against the other’s neck. He pulls back just enough to press a quick and teary kiss against his boyfriend’s cheek. “Sorry, I’m kinda snotty right now—”

“I still think you’re handsome,” Marc says loyally, letting Nathaniel go from his embrace. He turns to slot their lips together, completely ignoring how much of a mess the redhead is. And Nathaniel feels himself melt even further.

“Sap,” Nathaniel says fondly once they part with a wet laugh. He pats his pockets, finding a stray tissue to swipe at his eyes and blow his nose with. “Ugh. I feel crusty.”

“But you seem much better now. I think crying’s helped release your bottled-up emotions,” the writer says with a soft smile. He carefully tucks his boyfriend’s long bangs behind his ear. “It’s like you can finally breathe again, right?”

“Yeah. It does feel like that,” Nathaniel notes wonderingly, hands wandering to grab Marc’s forearms. “Huh. I guess it’s been a while since I last cried.”

“Couldn’t be me. I cry way too often,” Marc says sheepishly with a little cringe.

The artist shakes his head. “I think you cry just the right amount,” he says warmly, a smile tugging his lips. “Plus, I think it’s cute you get so invested in the characters of things you love, you get emotional when stuff happens to them. It shows you really care.”

“If you say so…” Marc trails off with a little pout, ears flushing pink.

“I know so,” Nathaniel says. He gets on his toes to give a kiss against Marc’s button nose. Marc scrunches said nose, going cross-eyed in bewilderment, and the artist can’t help the warm laugh that spills out of his mouth. “Um, I kinda want to just curl up in some blankets and cuddle right now. We could watch something too, if you want…?”

“I’d love to.” Marc gives an easy smile and adds, “You wanted to show me Ponyo, right? That movie looks sweet.”

“The little kiddy fish movie? You sure? ‘Cuz there are other things you might like better—"

Marc cuts him off with a swift kiss. When he pulls back, he grins down at Nathaniel with fond exasperation. “You love the Ghibli movies. And I love watching them with you. I think it’s a good choice.”

That’s right. Marc doesn’t hate Nathaniel. That includes not hating when Nathaniel wants to watch certain things that Marc might not know about.

“Okay. It’s super cute, so you’ll probably enjoy it, too,” Nathaniel admits with a nod, threading his hand through Marc’s. Their fingers curl together naturally, like little puzzle pieces slotting into place perfectly.

“I probably will. You’ve got good taste,” Marc says warmly. He raises their connected hands to kiss Nathaniel’s knuckles, and it makes a lovestruck smile spread on the artist’s lips.

“Alright…”

And then Nathaniel was tugging Marc along to go back to his house, feeling as light as a feather with his boyfriend by his side, swinging their connected hands slightly and smiling down at Nathaniel like he hung the moon and stars.

Nathaniel might be different now than he was back then—might be more willing to love and trust and collaborate with others—but the feeling of bone-deep affection for Marc since he first complimented Nathaniel’s drawings has always been there. And that won’t ever change.

---

Nathaniel breathes a sigh when he exits his therapist’s office, feeling strung out and tired… but in an oddly good way.

Marc is sitting in a chair in the waiting room, head snapping up and leaping to his feet. “Nath…! How’d it go?”

“Well, my therapist confirmed a few things I kinda already figured,” Nathaniel explains as he goes over to Marc. His boyfriend instantly threads their hands together, and it makes a smile naturally try to tilt his lips.

“You wanna talk about it, or are you good for now?” Marc asks with concern and doe eyes, “I know therapy sessions can be a lot to deal with. Either way, I support you.”

“I know, Marc. Thanks,” Nathaniel says, oh so fond and full of love he feels like he might burst. He leads them out of the waiting room, Marc beginning to swing their hands a bit. “I—so it turns out I have Major Depressive Disorder. Which explains a lot. Especially all the, like. Massive self-loathing.”

“Ah,” Marc replies softly, squeezing Nathaniel’s hand in comfort. “At least you’re going in the right direction, then. Getting help for it.”

“Yeah,” Nathaniel says, letting out a long sigh of relief. “I’ve gotta wait to see first how anti-depressants mix with my ADHD meds before I get any prescriptions. But I think just having the therapy sessions for now will help.”

“Good. I’m so proud of you, Nath,” Marc says, stopping them in place. Nathaniel blinks as Marc cups his face with his free hand. “I really am. I love you. And I’ll keep coming to wait for you for your sessions.”

“Marc…” the artist breathes, feeling choked up. He gives a wobbly smile and says a heartfelt, “Thanks. For always being there for me.”

“You’d do that same for me,” Marc says firmly, “You already do. I—we’re partners. Okay?”

“Okay,” Nathaniel nods, before he’s leaning up to kiss Marc on the lips. Marc kisses back, quick and eager, rubbing Nathaniel’s cheek with his thumb. Nathaniel finds himself melting from the kiss, from the unconditional love and support.

It’s different, to be going to therapy. To have someone so completely and utterly supportive of him seeking help. But it’s a good change.

Nathaniel is different now than he was back then when they first met. He’s finally happy. He’s healing.

Nathaniel is a different person, and he loves himself more than he ever has before. And no matter the changes, Marc loves him, too.

#marcnath #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #marcaniel #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #mexicat writes #mexicat asks #prompt #ask game

[itlivesproject]

(Re-reading this before sending it and I just want to apologise for the length and amount of rambling you're about to endure)

Y'all really got me caught here. On one hand I adore the fact that there are actually consequences to our actions, particularly with the runs where you romance everyone and then fuck it up. Choices has lulled us into a false sense of security where the choices don’t actually matter or have an impact on the story or the relationships, so to have consequences is perfect.

On the other hand, while doing a cheating run for the dialogues and to see the story changes, I need to headcanon my MC as someone who got in too deep with certain characters both without realising and while genuinely trying to romance another LI. I know that’s against the spirit of a cheating run, but I’m weak and can’t have an MC who just strings along these sweetheart characters because that would be too cruel (but at the same time I need to know the dialogues and how it impacts the relationships because I’m a slut for angst). So my MC is someone who does things like holding Lincoln’s hand – because that’s what she did with Amalia while trying to support her in college, and Amalia’s just a friend (right?... RIGHT???), so surely the same rules will apply here – without clocking the fact that to the other character it’s a much more meaningful action. By the time she realises after a kiss from another LI that she quickly excuses herself from so she can panic in private, it’s way too late and she’s already spiralling as she’s trying to figure out how to manage this situation without fucking up her thing with Joss or her friendships, when Luis comes in (and it’s not his fault, it really isn’t) and she lashes out in a mix of panic and frustration, saying exactly the wrong words – and everything goes up in flames.

Yes, my MC is the biggest idiot on the planet. She is aware of this fact.

Which brings me to this – before the next chapters are released, I wanna vent my thoughts on what my first angsty thought was for this. This isn’t a theory on what will happen (as that would require some belief that it would happen) but just where my brain took me when it tried to continue the narrative. Then when the actual chapters come out I can look back at these thoughts and cry.

I don’t see (or want for that matter) any of the characters just forgiving MC (any MC, not just my version) because aside from it being entirely out of character for them and their respective trust issues which have been thoroughly played with, the situation flat out doesn’t call for it and the characters are well within their rights to kick them to the curb… but also… the messiness of a final battle where nobody trusts MC anymore and there’s a critical moment where the LI or a friend is about to be killed, and there’s zero doubt that they will die, and MC just – takes the hit. Nobody called out to them because they never considered that MC would put their life on the line despite being just about close enough, but MC takes the hit. They just about survive because they’re a Power, and stagger to their feet, but their body is a mess from whatever (possibily magic) blow they endured and they’re very likely in shock and may or may not be missing a limb, they aren’t really sure. They fucked up, they know they fucked up on a colossal scale, and this doesn’t make up for it by any means, it’s not redemption to them, but the MC isn’t about to let their LI/friend die just because they don’t trust MC anymore, and MC will be damned if they don’t make sure the other characters get out of it alive even if they themselves don’t. I live for the angst and the turmoil that would cause as every other character is just looking at MC in complete shock and horror.

Of course taking the hit would be a choice though, so there would also probably be the absolute dickhead of all dickhead routes where MC doesn’t do shit, but that scenario can live far away from me and my thoughts.

Hmmm very interesting 🤔 Guess we will have to wait and see 👀

#ask #anon #mod hashie #ilw spoilers

[haleigh-sloth]

Well will you look at that Deku received lashings for something that never happen he didn’t save bkg and from the looks isn’t in this chapter bkg will get a quirk awakening again and blow up something probably make him back up and it look like the hero won for a moment just like endeavor fight sorry I’m bitter after the shit fiasco was last week

To be fair I was dreading the possibility of that too.

But I am more than pleased with what we got.

I really thought it was gonna be a “Bakugo Bait” situation, but nah ShigAFO is petty as fuck and was just gonna straight up kill him. Love that (lol)

But I wasn’t hating on Midoriya for it—because it’s not like it’d be OOC for the rage to happen in response. I would have bitched about the author’s choices.

But alas—we didn’t go there.

Instead we got:

Shigaraki stepping on Bakugo (jealous)

Shigaraki showing off a fucking drill team high kick lmao

Shigaraki roasting Bakugo and hitting him right in the inferiority complex where it hurts—and placing him below Midoriya of all people—which makes it funnier but also a bit more intense

And then Mirio actually surprised me with some words that I was genuinely glad to hear???? Someone finally say to Shigaraki??

Because not only did Shigaraki need to hear it, but now people (fandom) can stop rambling about how Shigaraki is “doing this for them” and how it’s the right solution lol. Because the story literally just called him out on his current method of things. Not that pure destruction was being validated before—but the way his “solution” just blew over everyone and everything was finally called out on in the story.

Because tbh I feel like that’s the point I’ve been trying to make when talking about the League and how they all….haven’t really worked well together to get what they ALL want. ALL of them, not just one, not just some. All.

There is a genuine issue that needs to be addressed in their society, and Shigaraki had a very not-genuine way of addressing it (it’s the trauma, I know, but that’s not the point).

And Mirio basically condensed it down into one sentence for me LOL

Tbh I doubt Deku’s saving specifically will have much to do with making Shigaraki embrace the relationships he has, so it being Mirio (the side protag with a supposed heart of gold that rivals Deku?) who kicked that portion of it off was a nice touch.

#this turned into a rant post but a happy one at least #bnha #boku no hero academia #anonymous #bnha asks #bnha spoilers #bnha 360 #shigaraki tomura

[ramblingdisaster73]

4x06 Thoughts & Feelings (there will be both positive & negative opinions here – so read below the cut at your own risk.) As usual I tag everything with 911 lone star spoilers until the next episode airs.

At least it wasn’t another gender reveal party – for the pink chalky stuff

Sorry – but – Owen you are the one that told them to go – so if it was a real life situation – their deaths would be on you – not on them – they were following your orders

So, he is allowed to use humor to deal with shit, but no one else is – got it.

You did overreact – you have a SHIT TON more knowledge than they do – check your own narcissistic ass – take responsibility for once instead of lashing out.

 I do understand why he is acting like he is – that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Can Owen just become a Fire Marshall – then we can get Captain Ryder full time? I really think that Arson investigator would be perfect for him – but there is a lot more opportunity (imo) for the fire marshall than arson investigation.

Seriously though – why introduce a white supremacist Nazi group – an actual real threat in Texas & the US at the moment – then make them the VICTIMS. What.the.actual.FUCK.

Sorry – if Tim wanted the FBI chick’s death to make us feel something – this was a HUGE miss for me – that is what I was hoping for since I saw the still of Owen carrying her out.

SIDENOTE – I do like Amanda Schull in Center Stage – I love that movie so much

I guess he isn’t the bad guy – BUT – I don’t really care

Sorry, but I don’t feel bad for the Nazis.

I wonder if Owen actually saved Red’s life by coming in before the FBI raid – it seems like the ones that died were the ones closer to the bar/farther back in the screen area – where Red came from to talk to Owen.

2nd adversary of Owen’s to get severe burns in an explosion

The text spoof thing – seems to smart for the kid

The FBI is so single minded in their pursuits of criminals

Sorry, but the painted ambulance was a huge giveaway that the bomb threat at the capitol would really be outside

At least they found the bus & dead hiker

I really didn’t think that the mikey kid was smart enough to get Andy to do all the provable work.

I did say that the kid would be involved – the scene he was in @ the roadhouse after his branding clinched it for me.

Why would you be sorry Owen? You very rarely are, especially since you always get to come out the hero?

I guess at least he is admitting he can’t do it all alone – so I guess at least that’s 1 step in the right direction.

Oh yay – gun porn for the gun people – lovely – sorry – not a fan (losing a childhood friend in a school shooting and a high school boyfriend being murdered with one – make it a bit hard for me to find guns sexy – but to each their own.)

So, we now have 2 adults that have been kidnapped/held captive with their hands bound in front of them with their mouths taped – but they couldn’t just lean the 2 inches forward to rip off the tape?

So Andy was a suicide bomber – dude wasn’t planning on blowing the place up & getting away with it – he was literally a suicide bomber. – but – yeah, please try to make me feel bad for the kid, but too bad it was another miss.

I do think that the actor did an awesome job with the role – I could also buy him as a relative of O’Brien – something about the eyes.

I wouldn’t hate an Owen/O’Brien friendship – but am totally cool with it being off screen

As soon as the fake ambulance was surrounded – I knew that Owen was going to be pulling a Derek Morgan

Like the kid getting the boot from the club for being TOO right wing is not the way to get me to sympathize with him

“You need to run” – Okay – we will all just stand here and stare at you instead.

Like that ambulance is fake as fuck looking – how dumb are law enforcement in this show.

Sorry – but Grace has been hired as Owen’s babysitter

Maybe – tell her that you have anfo in the van – that way she can more quickly give you directions

Then Listen to the woman.

Sorry – but I predicted the van stopping – and laughed when it did. I thought we were about to see Owen go Superman and just push it all the way in with his pinkie finger.

Doesn’t he know you have to weight the gas pedal? Like he watches so many movies – but missed this one thing that is in almost every action movie I have watched.

Of course, it turns into laughing gas

Apparently Judd forgot all of the science info he recorded for Mateo in Season 1.

I loved that little throw back

I love Mateo

I really want Captain Judd Ryder to be a thing

Here is an Owen thing that I absolutely loved – the way he kept eye contact (until Andy spoke directly to him) with O’Brien during Andy’s testimony – Neal played that role so well – he truly looked like he was in pain over the situation. – Owen was the person he could look at and know he wasn’t being judged, just supported in the way he was trying to support his nephew’s wife.

It is what you do Owen.

So glad he was reminded that he had a son – and decided it was convenient for him to stop by. – I get that a lot of people absolutely love this whole scene – I like parts of it – but as I have mentioned previously – Owen & my Father are very similar & that makes it incredibly hard to see this gesture as one towards TK – but rather see it as one to assuage his own guilt.

Tim’s comment about Owen being the dad of the Groomzilla is fucking stupid as shit – sorry but that says that TK will be the groomzilla – the groomzilla can ONLY be the groom (in this case either or both Carlos & TK would qualify) – the father would be a Dadzilla – not the dad to the groomzilla. It really isn’t that fucking hard – but Tim likes to make TK look like the diva anyway – so I guess that is pretty on brand for him.

Sorry Owen, but one of those men is on his second wedding/marriage – they can’t all call Iris his wife in other eps and then act like this him marrying TK is Carlos’ first marriage.

#911 lone star season 4 #episode 4x06 thoughts #911 lone star spoilers

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #16: UXM issues 135-138

The Green Phoenix was born when Jean saved her friends in a crashing spaceship. Her first act as Dark Phoenix is to blow up they’re plane, sending them hurtling towards the ground. Luckily, it’s far from their first time in this situation, and they get down painfully but alive. Ororo recognizes this is the same Jean she saw in the M’Kraan Crystal, but then, Jean was fueled by joy and love. Now she’s filled with pain and above all else, hunger. This story is even more fascinating when read in conjunction with Proteus. When we met Proteus, he was already fueled by hatred and hunger. It caused him to eat through his bodies, consuming all in his path and leaving lives destroyed. Jean has become the same thing, but this time we got to see her descent to that point. In the Phoenix Saga, she achieved ultimate power, but by reaching out to the lifeforce of her friends, she remained tethered to her humanity. All Wyngarde did was isolate her from the people she loves, but that’s all it took. No longer fueled by love, she needs to destroy and consume to fuel her lust for power. By defeating the X-Men, she’s severed her last connection to her humanity, leaving her free to pursue unchecked power. Her first act as a free being is to eat a star, sentencing five billion people on an orbiting planet to death. After destroying a Shi’ar cruiser, she sets her sights on her next meal- Earth.

As Lilandra summons the heads of the Kree and Skrull empires for a summit on the threat of the Phoenix, back on Earth Hank has rejoined the X-Men to help stop Jean. Scott is barely keeping it together. He tells himself he needs to keep himself tightly wound and focused on the mission or he'll shatter. No longer can Jean hold him together; the literal and metaphorical visors are back on and can't come off for a second. Meanwhile, Dark Phoenix isn't as purged of humanity as she thought. She finds herself back at Jean's house, and when she sees her parents and sister, her telepathy is so strong that she can't help but feel the love and fear coming from them. It's painful and confusing for both Jean and Dark Phoenix, and she lashes out, about to kill her father when the X-Men arrive. Kurt puts Hank's device on Jean's head; it's a thought scrambler to unfocus her power. Logan is about go in for a killing strike, but at the last second Jean retakes control and begs him to kill her, which causes him to hesitate just a moment too long. All of their attempts at fighting her now failed, Scott goes for his last ditch plan- talking. He walks up and surrenders himself to Dark Phoenix, and asks her why they're still alive. He tells her that he loves her, that all the X-Men love her, and that love defines Jean. He starts to get through to her when at the last second Xavier arrives with Warren and psychically ambushes Jean. Xavier set Jean on this path when she was a child, and he takes on the responsibility of stopping her, no matter the cost. He can't overpower her, but Jean is fighting herself- which gives Xavier the edge he needs to bind Jean's power to the astral plane the same way she bound another universe inside the Crystal. Jean collapses, and Scott runs up to her. In those seconds before he knows if she's alive or dead, Jean or Phoenix, he tells himself that no matter what he'll love her and never let go. When she comes to, she's back to her normal self, seemingly cured of the Phoenix, and Scott proposes on the spot. It seems like a happy ending until moments later, when the X-Men all vanish into thin air.

The X-Men have been beamed up to Lilandra’s flagship, where she declares that the Phoenix must die for the safety of the universe. It’s here we learn that the Phoenix is actually an external force that entered Jean. This is technically the first of the many Phoenix retcons, but I actually think this one is fine. Dark Phoenix is still presented as Jean corrupted by power, just now she found that found rather than having it within her. The corruption element, which is the thematically important part, is what’s important, and that hasn’t been changed. To save Jean’s life, Xavier invokes an ancient Shi’ar law that would allow the X-Men to fight a duel for Jean’s life. The X-Men are given a day to rest and prepare, and the story follows each of them as they ponder the situation and their beliefs and desires. First, Jean warms herself by a fireplace, and prays to God for the strength to face herself and the duel. The fire’s glow still reflects on Jean, but it comes from without now, no longer hers to control. Kurt tries unsuccessfully to have fun in an obstacle course, as he thinks about the day to come. It would take a miracle to beat the Imperial Guard, but Kurt believes in miracles, especially when it comes to the X-Men. What gives him more pause is whether he wants to fight for Jean, now that he knows she committed genocide. He’s joined by Warren, who’s being pained by similar doubts, even as he works out to prepare to fight for his old friend. I wish there were more Kurt and Warren scenes in the X-Men canon, if only for the visual symbolism. Logan is calmer; he’s not afraid of death, and he understands more than anyone what Jean is going through, because he also has a sometimes uncontrollable bloodlust. He’s not sure if the Phoenix is really gone, but he decides it doesn’t matter, because he’s with Jean either way. Hank isn’t sure how to feel about Jean and Phoenix, but he puts it all aside because more than anything else, he believes in due process. No matter how guilty Jean may or may not be, Hank on principle will defend her against an empress-ordered execution. He’s the smartest X-Man, and up against a problem he can’t solve, he finds one principle to stick to above all else. Peter is resolved to fight for his belief in love. Even when the battle was at its most hopeless, he never gave up on saving Jean, and his feelings haven’t changed. She’s a part of his family, and above all else Peter is loyal to his family. Ororo longs for the days before the X-Men, when things were simple. But she also accepts things as they are: she is an X-Man, and Jean is her sister. Like Peter, she loves deeply and will not betray that. As leader who’s had to make tough calls, Scott can see Lilandra’s point of view. He even relates to the fear that Dark Phoenix might one day return. But he also believes in mercy. Jean approaches him and asks if mercy for her is worth the risk that she might relapse. Scott tells her that he loves her and he’ll stand by her no matter what. That he’ll never give up, and neither should she, because that would be admitting defeat to the Dark Phoenix. He goes to the rest of the X-Men and tells them that he’s fighting for Jean, and he won’t ask any of them to do the same. But they’ve unanimously decided to stand by their friends. It’s futile though- one by one, they fall to the Imperials, until only Scott and Jean remain. For reasons she can’t quite explain, Jean chose to fight this battle in her original Marvel Girl uniform. It’s one final rebirth, this time not into Phoenix, but into herself. Her life has changed so much since then, but as she grabs Scott’s hand and runs into battle for the final time, dressed as she was the first time, they can both spend one more shining moment in love. But when Scott finally falls, the pain shatters the professor’s bonds on the Phoenix and she’s reborn once again. Xavier telepathically wakes everyone up and sends them into battle. None of them are willing to kill her, even Logan, now that they’ve seen her saved from the dark. But when they knock her back into control for a moment, Jean realizes that she’ll never escape the cycle of Jean to Phoenix the Dark Phoenix. She’s not willing to risk more lives, so she does what none of her friends can do. She activates one of the weapons in the arena and kills herself. In the end, as the Watcher says, Jean gives up life as a god for a human death.

The entirety of issue 138 is an internal monologue from Scott, reflecting on his life with Jean. A lot of it is recaps of the first 137 issues, which I’m not gonna go into detail on. They met as children, growing up with dangers and responsibilities beyond their years. For a long time, Scott refused to feel anything, but no matter how he tried to deny it, he’d loved Jean since they first met. But unlike the rest of the team, Scott had no life before or beyond the X-Men. All he knew how to do was bury himself in the job, but after enough close calls, he couldn’t hold back his love anymore. Jean reciprocated, and though they were on and off over the years, neither ever stopped loving the other. We know where the story goes from here; just as their happily ever after was within reach, it all fell apart. Scott is leaving the X-Men, but he makes one last promise to Jean- he won’t put his walls back up. She taught him how to live and love, and in her memory he’ll keep doing it. As the first child of Xavier leaves, a new one, Kitty Pryde, arrives at the door. The cycle of death and rebirth never truly ends, and the future of the X-Men is entering the story just as the past leaves.

There’s a reason why some people call this the greatest Marvel story of all time. It’s a heartbreaking and powerful story about identity, agency, love, and sacrifice. The ending was actually changed last minute; Claremont and Byrne wanted Jean depowered and freed, but their editors wanted her to pay the fair price for genocide. All in all, I’m glad they went with what they did. I also love that Claremont was writing most of the story under the assumption that Jean would survive; it means that as you read it, even though it seems hopeless, you can still believe that the X-Men will find a miracle. There’s also something very important about Jean’s death; she chose it selflessly. There was still a chance for Jean to control the Phoenix and live, which is what Scott wanted. But Jean knew that it would be dangerous for those around her and for the universe, and she chose to end that danger. Some adaptations miss this incredibly important detail, and make it a story about either the X-Men having to kill their friend or them tragically trying and failing to save her. But this is Jean’s story, and her death, while obviously tragic, was her choice and her sacrifice. The meaning of that sacrifice is damaged a lot by countless retcons, rehashes, and resurrections over the years, but when you view it in the context of only what came up until this point, it’s one of the most powerful stories I’ve ever seen.

#wes reads xmen

[notmanagingmymischief]

𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲.

Wind whips at your face as you run. Blood rushing in your ears and tears streaming down your face, you run and run until it hurts. But you can’t stop, not knowing where she’s going. Or more, where she’s being forced to go. Your shirt tears on branches that cut your skin and lash at your eyes but you don’t care. It’s so dark you can barely see, which only adds to the confusion and panic of the situation, but you know well enough to get where you need to be. You gasp for breath as you finally crest the bottom of the hill and see her, see them. Your eyes catch on him first, hand out towards your lover and back turned to you. And then her, face blank of all emotions. Still you run, and scream her name, but it’s lost in the wind.

Closer and closer you get, but you’re hot fast enough and he continues forcing her to walk back, step by step, every one a bit closer to her doom. Again you call her name, just as her foot hits the edge, and they hear you. His face snaps to look at you, so does hers. But it’s too late; his trance has been broken but the fates still have their way, for as she calls your name, a strong gust catches her off balance, and with a gasp, she falls. Your eyes blow wide and you lunge, screaming her name and landing on your stomach with your arm dangling over the peak of the cliff. And you watch in slow motion as your lover falls to the sharp rocks. But still she smiles, and just before she hits the bottom, she whispers “I love you,” and you can almost hear it in your ear.

And then she’s gone. Her body connects with the jagged edges below, going limp immediately as her neck snaps and bones break, killing her almost instantaneously. You stare down at her broken form, hundreds of feet beneath, arm still extended and fingers splayed in a failed effort to prevent her fall. More tears form in your eyes and your face twists in agony as you wail, an anguished, tormented thing that echoes off the water and rings in your ears. You son loudly, body wracking tremors that nearly send you toppling as well. Not that down below isn’t where you’ll be by the end of the night, anyway. But he has to pay. He has to feel the pain that she felt, that you felt because she felt it. Your tears don’t stop, yet you retract your arm, pushing yourself up with slow motions.

Just as slowly, you turn to face him, already pale face somehow more ashen, and he whispers your name in a broken plea. For mercy, for his life, it doesn’t matter. What does is making him suffer, and you, blinded by rage and unadulterated grief, attack. By the time you’re done with him he’s hardly recognizable, practically beheaded and disemboweled on the dry grass. You pant, covered head to toe in his filthy blood that you wipe off your cheek with the back of your hand and drop the dagger to the ground. You stare down at his body with a sick satisfaction that soon fades back into sorrow, and once again turn to face the cliffside.

Maybe she wouldn’t have wanted you to do this, perhaps she’d have wanted you to keep going. But a life without her is not one worth living, and so you stand overlooking the drop. Just on the precipice of life and death, you stare down at the outline of your lover, and with a sad smile, breathe “Always and forever, my love.” Before pitching yourself off the edge.

#yes this is about angie #but there are no names so you can imagine anyone you want #fanfiction #angst #death #ficlet #imagine #eleanor rigby #Spotify

[heliads]

Throwing Punches

Based on a request for a Four Soulmate AU. I chose one where you can feel your soulmate’s pain :)

masterlist

Your knuckles are hurting again.

It had been so long since it last happened that you hoped it might finally be over. Maybe, just maybe, your soulmate was smart enough to stop getting into fights and you could rest easy for once in your life. But no, your fingers are stinging with the aftereffects of another blow, another punch dealt to another unknown victim. At least you aren’t feeling any pain other than your hands- at least know he’s winning.

You close your eyes, wishing for the umpteenth time that soulmates were connected in some other way. Maybe a sealed envelope with their name written inside or even a thread tying them to you. Literally anything would be preferable over this. What links soulmates in your city is pain, injury. Every blow or scar or paper cut is transferred over to them. You may not bleed out if your soulmate is stabbed, but you’ll certainly feel the pain. Your mother used to say that it worked because love is pain, and this is just a physical representation of that. Soulmates come with strings attached, with hurts that you’ll always have. This is just a reminder of the hurt you’ll share with them. What a perfect, charming, utterly useless system.

You know that technically isn’t fair to say. Most other people have no problems with this at all- your mother found your father through a shared scar on their left arm. Your friend is convinced that their soulmate is somewhere in Candor because they keep feeling a pinching pain on their neck, right where the truth serum would be delivered. Your soulmate, instead of leaving an easy-to-follow pattern, simply enjoys getting in fights.

It would be one thing if it was an accident, something that didn’t happen often. If they had to use their fists to escape some situation, it could be less frequent, say every other week. However, this is not the case- your soulmate must have a death wish, because you find yourself covered in bruises day after day. Honestly, it’s getting a little hard to explain.

The good thing is that your soulmate is at least getting better. The pain usually erupts on your knuckles now instead of your chest or legs, like they’re the ones beating someone up instead of getting kicked down themselves. It’s all in the small victories, you suppose. Even this is better than before, when they must have been doing something terribly wrong- you kept feeling this sharp pain in long lashes across your back and torso. It makes you shiver to think what they must have been going through to warrant that much pain.

You know that they’re older than you by one year, maybe two. You’d felt the cut across your palm when a Choosing Ceremony had taken place, so they’ve at least selected their faction. You hope they won’t be in the middle of another fight in an hour or so- it would certainly be a distraction to feel a knife slice open their hand when they weren’t expecting it. You know it was hard to concentrate when your soulmate chose his faction, so you can only hope that it won’t slow them down. They may be bothering you by constantly getting into fights, but they’re still your soulmate, and you wouldn’t want them to lose because of you.

Your friend glances over at you as you stand in line to enter the hall. The Choosing Ceremony will begin in about fifteen minutes, but crowds are already forming around the entrance.

 “What, are they fighting again?” They ask, and you grimace. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into them. I’m starting to think that they like getting punched.” 

Your friend laughs. “At least you know they’re exciting. Ana’s soulmate barely gets hurt at all. It’s like they’ve got no personality.”

You grin at her, incredulous. “What, and getting hit all the time proves that they’re interesting?” 

Your friend shrugs. “They’re willing to do interesting things.” 

You shake your head, still fighting back a laugh. “You’re insane.”

The Choosing Ceremony runs by faster than expected, each person hurrying to cut their hand so they can look out into the audience and see if someone else winces at the cold metal slicing into their flesh. You’ve heard of people finding their soulmates in the audience, people who have to hurriedly remember which faction their soulmate chose so they can be with them. Others choose to leave their soulmate behind, deciding that their future faction is more important. You’ve seen enough disappointed faces to know that the abandoned are often disappointed to be left behind.

This doesn’t stop you from checking once, just the once, into the throngs of gathered people to see if anyone is hurt like you. Even somebody who’s already chosen their faction a couple of years ago might still be here. You do a brief scan, but don’t see anyone. At last, you’re free to make your own choice, and drop your blood into the smoldering flames of Dauntless. A cheer erupts from the black-clad section of the room, and you make your way over to your new faction. At last, you have somewhere to belong.

The ride to Dauntless is just about as ruthless and exhilarating as the faction itself. You jump onto trains and then back off, rolling on the gravel of a rooftop to stand up and take in the sights. Two girls land next to you, one from Abnegation and one from Candor. 

You smile at them. “Did we really just jump off of a train?” 

They grimace back at you. 

“I think we did. I’m Tris, this is Christina.” 

You return their friendly grin. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you guys.”

A shout from a group of more experienced Dauntless over at the roofline draws your attention, and the three of you stumble over to the crowd forming next to them. When they announce that you have to jump from the roof to enter Dauntless, you hear a chorus of gasps issuing from around the other initiates. 

The leader- Eric- folds his arms across his chest. “Well? I’m waiting. You’re Dauntless, try to act like it.”

Before you know what’s happening, you step forward. You can see Tris and Christina turning to you with identical looks of horror, but you keep moving forward until you’re climbing up onto the roof. You take one last look at the plunge beneath you, then leap off the roof. As you fall, you only have room in your mind for one thought: wherever your soulmate is, he may have to prepare himself. This might hurt.

The fall isn’t actually that bad- you come to an abrupt stop on what appears to be a net of sorts. You stare up at the halo of light above you, the empty shell of the roof where you’d fallen, and then the net tilts beneath you and you’re helped to your feet. There’s a hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to a standing position, and you look up to thank whoever is helping you when you feel your heart stop for just a second. 

There’s a boy standing in front of you, a boy only a couple of years older than you. He carries a certain confidence about him, a knowledge that he isn’t afraid of anyone in this room. 

He glances over at you. “What’s your name, initiate?” 

You manage to hide your stare and respond back. “Y/N. I’m Y/N.” He nods once, then turns to shout to the rest of the room. “First jumper, Y/N.”

He continues to stand there for a second, his hand still wrapped around yours, before he seems to remember where he is and releases you. You step back just as a scream issues from the cavernous hole in the roof above you- someone appears to have become the second jumper. Your eyes drift back to the man who’d helped you down. 

To your surprise, you notice that he’s still looking at you. You’re not sure why, but something about him seems familiar. You’ve never met him before, it’s not that, but you have a feeling that if you were locked in a darkened room you’d find him without a light, without anything to guide you. You’d know him even if you didn’t know yourself.

You step further into the room, watching as the other initiates jump down one by one. You’re happy to meet up with Tris and Christina once more, who hurry over to you once they see you. 

“I can’t believe you were the first to jump. I thought you’d die.” 

You laugh at that. “I doubt they’d kill off their initiates this quickly. It would kind of make a stir amongst the other factions.”

Christina shakes her head, incredulous. “I think I understand why you chose Dauntless. You have no survival instinct.” 

You grin, shaking your head. “Not quite like that. My soulmate gets into a lot of fights, I’m sick of feeling powerless. I came here to feel strong again.” 

Tris nods slowly. “Well, if today is any indication I think you’ll do just fine. Just try to hold off on jumping off buildings, I don’t think they’re looking for that anymore.” 

You laugh at that. “Sounds good to me.”

The next few days pass by in a blur. You learn to fight along with the others, throwing punches and dodging swings in the daily lessons. The man who’d helped you from the net, Four, is still there, and you still feel that strange sense of familiarity whenever you see him. That isn’t the only mystery about Four, though- there was one incident during your first fight that you’re not likely to forget.

The fight had gone well, that wasn’t the problem. You were winning, and Four had drifted by to investigate, checking up on all the initiates to help with the rankings later. You had aimed punch after punch at your opponent, most if not all of them connecting heavily with the trainee’s head, chest, and throat. Your knuckles stung, but you could barely feel it through the haze of an approaching victory.

Out of the corner of your eye, you had seen Four frowning over his hand. He was staring at the knuckles and fingers as if expecting to see bruises or cuts, although there was nothing there. He had looked at the initiates actively fighting across the training room: you, still striking your opponent, your opponent, trying and failing to hit you back, and the few other matches, which had just started and were only circling each other and looking for an opening.

He had then glanced back at you, and it was like you could see him figuring something out in his head, something that might concern you. He looked between you and his hand and then back at you, and you could see the light dawning in his eyes. 

For a moment, he stared at you like you were the answer he’d been trying to discover for a very long time, and then he had looked away. After you’d finished the fight, you’d tried to find him again, and noticed that he was, after everything, still looking at you.

You didn’t know what to make of it. He’d treated you differently after that. You could tell that it was unintentional- he wasn’t singling you out or giving you special treatment, just speaking more stiffly as if he knew something that you didn’t. You couldn’t explain it, just knew that something wasn’t right. However, Four has a reputation for not opening up to people. You have a sneaking suspicion that whatever was bothering him wasn’t going to come up in an idle chat.

That being said, you end up getting closer to Four than you first thought possible. You’re not sure when it first happened, when he first decided to let down his guard and actually let himself become friends with you. Maybe it wasn’t a conscious decision at all, maybe it just happened. You have this feeling that you were always meant to know him better than a stranger across the room, and maybe he felt the same way.

Regardless, you actually end up becoming friends. At first, it was just conversation in between drills at training and tips after fights, but then it was talking in the halls after practice and the way he just happened to show up when you were walking around the grounds after hours. You were never sure if he intentionally sought you out or if your paths just kept crossing time and time again, but you’re not entirely sure you have a problem with it.

There’s just something about Four that seems right, like all the conversations and ramblings and glances across crowded rooms fit into place like a well-worn glove. He’s the coat you always choose when it’s cold outside, the one room you keep visiting whenever you don’t want to feel so alone. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that this is what a soulmate should feel like, the sense of belonging you’d never find in someone else.

But you do know better, that’s the problem. The chances of Four being your soulmate are slim to none. In this one city, the probability of the first boy you meet being your soulmate the second you enter your faction is practically impossible. Yet you keep finding yourself hoping that he might be the one, that maybe your stars might all align and let you have this one good thing to cherish.

It’s late, and you’re standing out on a balcony. Your eyes trace the line of the horizon, where the crumbling buildings give way to ruin or are built up again as they near the train line. The looming shade of the wall is distant, a front stoop to the city. Four comes up behind you, leaning his arms up against the same balcony rail. You’re silent, the two of you, the quiet coming naturally. Not stiff, not yearning to be filled with chatter, just quiet. It feels like home.

Your eyes find him by accident, by design. The neckline of his shirt has fallen down slightly, and you can see the top edge of his tattoos. They seem to slice down his back, razor-sharp and dark as the same ink that marks you and the rest of the Dauntless. 

You frown slightly as you consider them. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked about your tattoos.” 

Four straightens up, looking back to you. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you about them.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me, or are you just going to be frustratingly vague?” 

Four’s lips quirk in a half smile. “I happen to like being vague.” He relents at your glare. “I haven’t told anyone.” 

He reaches for the hemline of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. Your eyes fall upon the harsh edges of the tattoos, tracing the lines and shapes. It’s strange, from here they almost look like imprints of a lash or a whip.

There’s a memory creeping at the back of your mind. You hadn’t thought about it, not in a while. Your soulmate used to have this incredible pain, like lashes all across his back. They disappeared when he’d chosen his faction, so you hadn’t thought much about it, but- Your soulmate got into fights all the time, so like a Dauntless. So like Four. And if Four has these lashes, and he got into fights at the same time as your soulmate, it’s not just a coincidence or a hope anymore, it’s true.

Your breath is catching in your throat. You have to prove this somehow, have to find some way to make it all seem real. Your eyes fall upon a sharp edge of stone on the balcony, one jagged crag of concrete that hadn’t yet been sanded down by time. Without thinking, you slash your arm at it, watching through unseeing eyes as the blood beads up on your forearm. In front of you, Four’s back is still turned, so he doesn’t see. What you see, instead, is the way he winces, grabbing at his forearm as if in pain. He can’t see the wound, of course, because it’s on his soulmate’s arm instead. It’s on your arm.

Four stills, his hand resting over the invisible cut. “Sorry, I think my soulmate cut themselves.” 

He starts to turn around, then freezes, taking in the blood welling over your arm. His gaze sharpens like a knife, taking everything in and cataloging it away somewhere. You’ve seen this look, you realize, back in the training room in your first fight. There’s a reason he doesn’t look surprised, just quiet, as if glad that you finally know.

You’re the first one to speak. “You knew.” 

Your voice is quiet, barely there at all, but it’s enough. 

Four nods. “That first day. You saw me, I tried to hide it. My hands hurt whenever you punched that guy. I knew it then.” 

You shake your head slowly. “Why lie to me? If you knew it was me?” 

Four winces like you’ve hit him instead of that one trainee. “It wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t say anything. I thought-”

His voice breaks off, dying away into ash. “I didn’t know you. You didn’t know me. I didn’t want to give you my heart like that if I didn’t know anything about you.” 

You feel like your head is rushing, pounding away through a raging river. “And now? Do you trust me enough now?” 

Four laughs without humor. “I don’t think I ever had a choice. You’ve grown on me, Y/N, and I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”

His eyes fall on the line of red still dripping down your forearm. “Can I-” 

You nod, cutting him off. “Yeah, I just needed to know.” 

He smiles at that, gently leading you back inside so he can grab a bandage from a table nearby. His brow furrows slightly as he focuses, gently winding the cloth around your arm. The first layer still flowers with red, but at the end the white bandage remains pristine and the cut is safely hidden away.

He looks back at you, one hand still lingering over your hand. “I do trust you, you know. More than anyone here.” 

You watch as he stands once more, taking in the lingering trace of his fingertips over your hand. “I know. I trust you too.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like a firecracker going off in your chest. Only this time, you know that any pain is yours to share. Not just a cut, or a bruise, but a fresh start. One heart, beating for two.

#four #four imagines #four x reader #four oneshot #tobias eaton #tobias eaton imagines #tobias eaton x reader #tobias eaton oneshot #divergent #divergent imagines #divergent x reader #divergent oneshot #soulmate au #soulmates au #divergent four #divergent four imagines #divergent four x reader #divergent four oneshot

[butterflypeachgrove]

Run Rabbit

(I got in the mood for horror, even though it isn't Halloween anymore lol. Enjoy!)

Warnings: Horror, gore, anxiety, cultish themes, major character death, basically like a horror movie chase but with cultists :D

Song: www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtH8mApAkus

On the farm, ev'ry Friday..

They were coming.. Oh god they're coming. Your breathing was ragged and your legs burned. 

On the farm, it's rabbit pie day..

Three pairs of footfalls followed your own. They were too fast. They were close. Too close. You needed to move faster.

So ev'ry Friday that ever comes along..

The red early morning sun glared at you from beyond the trees, trailing your form almost accusingly (just like them). Tears ran down your face as blood gushed from your forehead and lips. Move. Move. Move!

I get up early and sing this little song~

An arrow whizzed past your cheek.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run..

You unconsciously let out a whimper as you tried to suppress a scream. You were running on pure adrenaline now, far too tired but far too scared to stop. How did things end up like this! I didn't want this! I never pretended to be your god!

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run..

Your heart thrummed. Keep moving.

BANG!

An arrow lodge into your back.

BANG!

A gold and brown spear grazed your side, staining your clothes red. 

BANG!

Lightening aimed from behind strikes you and you screamed, but, somehow, you kept running despite the horrific burns that now decorated your body.

BANG!

Your foot caught on a rock. A cry caught in your throat as your body tumbled forwards down the steep hillside. 

Goes the farmer's gun!

Your body landed harshly against the dirt, swiftly knocking the wind from your lungs. 

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run..

Get up! Get up! They're almost here! You scrambled to right yourself, coughing loudly, legs still violently burning and heart palpitating. It was getting so hot.. and so hard to breath. 

"This way!"

"Kill the imposter!"

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run..

Over the crest of the hill, you immediately spotted a far too familiar bard. And he immediately spotted you. 

His smile was far too wicked for a character like him, eyes far too gleefully sadistic.

"There you are~!"

Your eyes widened.

Don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun..

With what adrenaline was left in your body, you make a break for it with a desperate sprint. 

Venti and the other two archons quickly followed suite. 

He'll get by without his rabbit pie..

You wanted to cry. You wanted to collapse. You wanted to scream out at whatever god thought it would be a funny and twisted little joke to send you to this place. A place where characters you adored wanted nothing more than to put you in the ground. Why?! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?! WHAT DID I DO?!?!

So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run..

"Get them!"

"Kill them!"

"How dare you disgrace our master!"

You sobbed. 

What did I do wrong?

How did this situation get so fucked up?

You managed to somehow duck away from a spear that had aimed for your head as you weaved between trees painted red and black by awakening sunlight and darkening clouds. Everything hurts. Everything burns. 

An arrow lodges into your calf, blood pouring forth.

You scream. 

Thunder rumbles over head. 

Your heart clenches in fear. 

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run..

Rain that shouldn't be there begins to pour. The earth trembles. The wind whips.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run..

Lightening falls from the sky and smites your form, a blow a million volts stronger than last time. You don't even get a chance to scream. The light is blinding.

BANG!

Wind lashes into your sensitive yet numb skin, tearing away flesh and muscle and whisking them away. The smell of burnt blood stings what's left of your nose. 

BANG! 

Why?

BANG!

Why am I still alive?

BANG!

You want to laugh. How am I not dead yet?

Goes the farmer's gun!

The earth cave beneath your feet and engulfs your ankles, rooting you to the spot, with twin stone stalagmites shooting up from the ground and impaling your hands, encasing them. You don't even bother to wince.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run..

"No more running you vile wretch." Zhongli's face twists into a sneer you never previously thought him capable of. 

"It is time you face retribution for your sins," Ei added with a shadowy face.

What did I do? You asked, but you could only gurgle past the blood building in your throat, What crimes did I commit other that existing you fucking psychos?

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run..

Venti stood before your prone form, bow aimed at your head. You could sense the other two behind you. 

Don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun..

Rain begins to fall harder, trickling into the crevices of your burned and bleeding body. Some even trickled down your face, trailing blood down your cheeks. 

He'll get by without his rabbit pie..

So this is how I die huh? At the hands of twisted video-game characters? You managed a humorless smile. Hehe, what a way to go..

Twin spears impaled through your spine as an arrow pierced your brain.

So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run.

#Tags: @is-very-sad @mikachuchu @raidengaile @xyliope @willowedwisteria @bamboowrites @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry @nicebonescomrade

#butterfly.posts #butterfly.stories #genshin sagau #sagau villain au #villian darling #genshin yandere #genshin yandere cult #genshin cult au

[seijorhi]

Rabid.

The brainrot was real, guys. Hope you like it :))

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

tw blood, violence, implied minor character death, non-con, smut, nsfw

There’s blood splattered across the back of his hands the first time you make the unwitting mistake of catching Kyoutani’s attention. He usually can’t be fucked wasting time wrapping his fists; the skin across one of his knuckles is split and raw from his last job, but most of the blood isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

But he wouldn’t have noticed – it comes with the territory and he’s never really given a fuck whether there’s blood on his clothes or not – if it hadn’t been for that tiny gasp.

That soft, sharp little intake of breath, and like the rabid dog they claim he is, he snaps to the threat.

Nobody else at the table notices, and you seem to realise your mistake, freezing up the moment those honey brown eyes flash and zero in on you. Your throat bobs unsteadily – you look like a deer caught in headlights. Startled. Terrified. 

Kinda fuckin’ adorable, if he’s being honest.

“I– I’m sorry, sir,” you mutter, ducking your head as you set down his drink with a tremor in your hand.

Vaguely, he registers Makki’s choked snort at the honorific – nobody’s ever called him sir before – but he can’t really find it in himself to give a fuck that the two of you have drawn an audience.

Not when you’re still frozen, hardly daring to draw breath at his side. 

You’re new, that much is painfully obvious, but not stupid. You know who he is – who they are, and despite his reputation, he’s never been one to get off on fear or some fucked up version of a power trip; Kyoutani simply likes the feeling of lashing out, beating the absolute shit out of some asshole just because he can.

Because it feels good, gets his blood pumping.

Nobody would lift a finger to help you if he decided to take offence to your little slip up. And truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit – he’s used to people being on edge around him and it’s not like you’ve reacted any other way than how you’re supposed to. 

It’s natural for you to be startled, scared even. But not here, not with them. Here you should know better, because here is filled to the fucking brim with men like Kyoutani. Oh sure, they might be prettier, polished and charming like Oikawa, but you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to think the man hasn’t stepped over bodies he’s put in the ground to get where he is. 

At least Kyoutani never has to pretend to be anything other than what he is.

But a little blood in a place like this shouldn’t raise an eyebrow, and the way you’re staring at the table, eyes cast down and wide; Kyoutani can almost hear you cursing yourself out for your own stupidity. And it strikes him as he stares at you, drinking in every subtle shift in your body language, wondering why you don’t just tuck tail and run off like you so clearly want to, that you really don't belong in a place like this.

“Something the matter, Mad Dog?” a silken voice purrs, and he tears his eyes away from your trembling form to glance back at his boss, sitting at the head of the table. The brunette’s smiling idly, appraising the two of you and Kyoutani feels you stiffen beside him. 

You don’t dare open your mouth, don’t so much as twitch, not even as Kyoutani returns his attention back to you. By now the entire table has quietened down, most if not all of the gathered men staring at you and you – pretty eyes filling with tears, hands clasped together and trembling in front of your dress – look like you just want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. And somewhat selfishly, there’s a part of Kyoutani that wants to keep you there like that.

Not afraid, exactly. Just… there. 

He can’t explain it, doesn’t know why he hasn’t just told you to fuck off back to the kitchen, dismissed you with a grunt like he would have if any of the other servers had made the same mistake. He has bigger shit to worry about than some perceived fucking offence, but he finds himself pausing, drawing this little moment out for a lifetime before finally putting an end to it, “No.”

He jerks his chin, breaking the moment between the two of you to reach for the drink you’d set down before him, but still you don’t move, glancing between him and Oikawa like you’re afraid to move – as if you’re terrified that you’ve read this situation wrong and one wrong step and you’ll just make things worse. It’s so fucking endearing that he almost snorts, but it takes Oikawa’s voice, calm and level and almost kind to shake you out of your frozen state, “Run along now, cutie.”

You scamper off without a backwards glance, and if anybody notices Kyoutani watching you out of the corner of his eye while he nurses his drink, they have the better sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

And honest to god, it’s the last he expects to see of you. He’s not so stupid as to think you landed the job because you genuinely wanted it; people don’t end up in places like this because they have choices, they end up here because somebody somewhere along the line fucked up. 

This city’s filthy, full of irredeemable pieces of shit like him and it takes innocence like yours, chews it up and spits it out. If you were smart, you would have left after your little run-in with him, so why the fuck are you right back in their private room less than a week later, nails biting into your palm and resolutely refusing to meet his eye?

Oikawa’s busy rattling off a list of drinks he wants, but this time it’s Kyoutani who’s frozen in place, staring at you with a scowl that has you shivering even as you nod at the Oyabun. He knows Iwaizumi at least is watching him with some kind of morbid combination of curiosity and concern, can’t find it within him to care as you try and slip from the room, giving him as wide a berth as you can without it seeming rude–

Not wide enough. Before he even registers that he’s moved Kyoutani’s reaching out to grab your forearm – his grip not tight enough to hurt, just to stop you from running off on him again. And the little squeak that leaves your soft looking lips sends a ripple of something electric jolting down his spine, but you know better than to try and pull away.

God, he can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin, every terrified thump of your heart. It’s addictive, he thinks, the feeling he gets just from touching you. 

“Gimme a beer,” he grunts, waiting until you finally meet his eye.

The nervous little nod you give strokes some part of him he hadn’t realised existed. Kyoutani likes you like this; all timid and obedient. A little too much, maybe. 

There’s a sharp elbow in his side courtesy of Yahaba, and he reluctantly releases his grip on you, leaving you to scamper away once more. Cute.

Yahaba makes some snarky comment under his breath and he barely fucking registers it, fixated instead on the skin of his palm; still warm and tingling from your touch. His hands are rough, scarred and calloused, the skin over his knuckles split from another job last night, a little red and bruised – even as he tightens his fingers into a fist they sting just a little.

Guns have their purpose, he’s not against a knife if he’s feeling particularly fucking vindictive, but Kyoutani’s favourite has always been his fists. There’s something about the feeling of skin and muscle giving way beneath his blows, taking all that pent up rage and aggression and letting loose with his fists. It’s a kind of euphoria he’s never found anywhere else; not in women or men or drugs or alcohol. Nothing comes close to the feeling he gets straddling some pathetic piece of shit and beating the absolute fucking crap out of him.

Sometimes if he goes a few days without a fight, he gets a little jittery. Not like the tweakers do, it’s not withdrawal so much as… a building up of restless, rabid energy. He gets on edge, snaps more, lashing out over petty shit until some poor asshole makes the mistake of looking at him the wrong way and Kyoutani just fucking looses it.

He feels it now, that same burning itch under his skin. He’s never thought of his hands as anything more weapons, but touching you, the warmth of your skin, how smooth and soft it was–

Kyoutani wants to do it again. Wants to touch more of you. And he’s not so fucked up yet that he doesn’t realise how twisted this all is, how a guy like him doesn’t belong within a thousand miles of some sweet, cute innocent thing like you. But the world ain’t fucking fair; you’re here and for whatever reason Oikawa’s taken a liking to you and so whenever they’re at the club, you’re the one management send to make sure they’re happy.

And Kyoutani wonders, golden eyes burning a hole into your back as you hastily clear away their empty glasses, whether you realise that if any one of them asked for a dance or for you to get on your knees and blow them, you’d be expected to do that, too.

You might as well be on Seijoh’s payroll now, just be thankful that as far as that side of things go, they’re not the monsters that the rumours make them out to be.

Not that he hasn’t noticed Mattsun’s gaze drifting to your ass when you lean over the table to grab something, the older man shooting him a salacious wink when he notices he’s glaring.

Not that he hasn’t let his own imagination take hold, leaning up against the glass wall of his shower first thing in the morning. His fist pumping along his throbbing cock, wondering what it’d be like to see you on your knees, those pretty eyes full of tears, staring up at him as you swallow him down like the good girl he knows you are.

The thing is, he’s never made all that much of an effort to hide his feelings from the others. He doesn’t give a shit if it makes him the butt of their jokes, doesn’t care what they think about the way he watches you – his attention snapping towards you the moment you slip past the door, purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Not that it ever does you much good. 

Oikawa hasn’t said shit, and that’s enough of a go-ahead as Kyoutani needs. It’s none of their fucking business anyway. 

You’ve managed to get under his skin, push him to the fucking brink when he goes more than a few days without seeing you. He knows you don’t want any part of this; that you’re still fucking terrified of him. Kyoutani’s never been one to chase after somebody who wants nothing to do with him – there are plenty of women more than willing to spread their legs for Seijoh’s big bad Mad Dog if he wants an itch scratched. There’s no good reason why he can’t get you out of his head, why you’ve sunk your teeth into him and refuse to let go – even when it’s clear that that’s so fucking far from what you intended with the blonde.

It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change shit; you’re his, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not.

And maybe he’s just living with his head up his ass, but he doesn’t quite realise how fucking inadequate this whole arrangement is until he needs a piss one night and ventures out into the club only to see some asshole trying to cop a feel and tug you down to his lap, his friends drunk and howling with laughter as you try to politely escape them. 

Distantly he registers that he recognises the piece of shit as some low level fucking drug lord who’s been all but sucking Oikawa’s dick trying to get a bigger piece of the pie, but in that moment, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who he is.

Kyoutani just sees red. 

Nostrils flaring, steam practically pouring from his ears, he storms over. And adrenaline’s surging through him with every pounding beat of his heart, every synapse in his body’s electrified, ready to lay into this piece of shit for daring to lay a finger on what’s his.

He wants to beat him bloody, wants to fuck up his face – to whale on him until muscle and bone give way and there’s nothing left but bloody pulp where his head used to be. Him and his fucking friends.

But Kyoutani has his priorities, and he reaches you first, grabbing you by your elbow and ripping you away from them, a muscled arm curling protectively around your waist. And he’s deaf to whatever protests you have, to the excuses the pieces of crap in front of him offer up, can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding in his head as he fixes them with a snarl and all but drags you back to their room, shoving you less than gently in through the door.

“Stay here, don’t move until I get back,” he orders, and he loves you, he does, but when you open your mouth to argue, something inside of him tightens and snaps. He grabs you by the jaw, jerking your face up as he crowds in over you, golden eyes ablaze, “Not a fucking muscle, understand?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, crashing his lips down on yours to steal the kiss he’s been waiting fucking weeks for before stalking back out. 

Kyoutani is beyond caring about ramifications, Oikawa’s always given him a fairly loose leash to do as he pleases and if this is what puts an end to that so fucking be it; he’ll take you and go. But he hears Iwa and Mattsun on his heels and neither one of them are trying to stop him as he storms back towards the drug lord and his little cronies, so he figures the boss ain’t too fucking bothered with what he’s about to do.

And maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he might’ve found it funny how quickly the floor clears when he vaults the couch, grabs the asshole by the front of his silk shirt and heaves him forward, sending him careening face first into a table full of drinks. 

With the taste of you on his lips, the memory of this piece of shit’s hands all over you, Kyoutani doesn’t hold back. 

The others are gone by the time he, Iwa and Mattsun return, it’s just Oikawa casually leaning back in his seat, you sitting rigidly in the one beside him, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. 

Kyoutani’s eyes flicker tensely between the two of you – he’s still on edge, still not right. He needs something more to feed that rabid fucking monster lurking beneath his skin, and his Oyabun knows it. 

Oikawa smiles genially, patting your knee for just a moment (and oh, how Kyoutani hates the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head when he leans over and whispers something in your ear) before standing up.

“Mad Dog,” he says, eyeing him with a shrewd look he recognises all too well. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He nods at the two behind him and without another word the three of them exit, no doubt to try and smooth over the mess he’d just made.

Leaving Kyoutani alone with you.

And there’s a part of him that’s pissed off, because this was always gonna happen, but fuck, he was gonna make an effort. He’d wanted it to be nice for you… romantic, or at least as romantic as somebody like him was capable of.

You deserve that much.

His blood’s still thrumming, remnants of blind fury and jealousy and possessive need still burning through his veins. The fight wasn’t enough to sate him; it should’ve been – he’d left them in fucking pieces – but then again you’ve been toeing this line for a long, long time, and Kyoutani’s patience only goes so far.

He should at least take you back to his apartment, try and salvage this disaster of a night, but he knows deep down he can’t make himself walk out of here with you without taking what he needs.

He’s still not entirely in control, breathing hard as he stares at you, watches you fiddle with your hands in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stand up,” he says, his voice a rough growl.

On shaking legs, you obey, eyes flickering towards the doorway behind him, and distantly he wonders what you’re thinking. You’re foolishly naive, he’ll admit that much, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid. You know where this is going, and you must know that there is nobody and nothing that’s gonna stop what’s about to happen. Not even you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and now he’s the one to draw in an unsteady breath. “Strip.”

You blanch, eyes widening in pure panic. And there’s a part of him that feels guilty, that knows he’s scaring you right now and hates himself for it, but any chance of rationality winning out fled the moment he saw somebody else put their hands all over you.

“Strip,” he repeats when you make no move to start taking your clothes off. “Or I’ll rip that pretty fucking dress off myself.”

Kyoutani adores that little catch in your breath, the way you bite down on your bottom lip as you give in, meekly reaching for the zipper at your back.

You’re so fucking beautiful, every mouthwatering inch of you. Tentatively, you glance up at him after your dress hits the floor, as if you’re hoping that that’ll be enough, that he doesn’t want to see all of you. Any other time, and the sight of you in your matching set of lingerie might’ve been enough to calm him, but it’s not what he needs tonight. 

His scowl deepens, and you’re clever enough to read between the lines. Your bra goes first, pretty lace panties joining the small pile of clothes on the floor a moment later. 

Good girl.

His eyes darken as he stares, hungrily taking you in. Soft tits, nipples pebbling under the cool air, he’s dying to touch them, suck on them, mark them up nice and fuckin’ pretty. The gentle swell of your ass, smooth, supple thighs he can’t wait to get his hands on, and that cute little cunt of yours, all his. His to play with, his to tease, his to claim. Fuck, this is better than all the images he’s conjured up of you in the heat of the moment, stroking his cock to get off with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He wants to compliment you, tell you how perfect you are, how cute you are – trembling naked in front of him, but he’s beyond words right now, hanging onto his control by a fucking thread as his cock twitches in his pants, all that blood rushing south.

You look like you’re about to burst into tears as you swallow, taking in a quick, hitching breath. “Kyoutani,” you begin in a soft, tiny voice–

And that last little thread snaps.

He’s on you before you can stop him, spinning you around and roughly slamming your hips up against the table. There’s no time to be soft or gentle, no time to even take off his pants, he just shoves them down to his thighs and reaches for his cock.

Fuck, he’d wanted to eat you out, to stuff you full of his fingers and make you cum on them first, get you nice and stretched out, but he’s still too wound up. Kyoutani needs to be buried inside of you, needs to fuck you – he’ll make it up to you afterwards, he swears it.

He’ll treat you like a fucking princess, just be good for him now. 

And the scream that shatters that calm night air should tear at him – he doesn’t want to hurt you, not ever, it’s his job to protect you – but he can’t focus on that when your pussy’s clamping down around his fat cock, a dizzying heat enveloping him as your walls flutter and squeeze against the unwanted intrusion.

It feels like fucking heaven. Kyoutani’s hands are everywhere; your tits, your ass, squeezing reassuringly at your hip when a broken sob leaves your lips. And he’s kissing at your shoulders, nuzzling at your neck even as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, desperate to be as close to you as he can as his hips draw back and he pounds back in, grunting like a beast in heat.

He fucks you savagely, your hips slamming against the table with every thrust – there’ll be bruises no doubt, but he’ll look after those too. He swears to fucking god, he’ll take such good care of you. You’re gonna be his girl. You are his girl.

It’s easier than it should be to drown out your agonised cries and pleas for him to slow down, to chase his own pleasure within your tight, wet heat, his cock ramming up against your cervix with every stroke. 

He loves you, loves the feeling of being inside of you – fuck, Kyoutani doesn’t think he ever wants to leave. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, a shudder wracking your body that almost has him seeing stars with the way your pussy tightens and convulses around him in response. He loses his rhythm as he nears his end, hips jackrabbiting into your poor, abused cunt as his balls tighten.

You’re slick now, cunt drooling around him as he fucks you hard and fast, lewd slaps echoing out with every brutal thrust. Kyoutani knows he’s holding you too tight, knows it’s probably hurting but he can’t fucking care when he’s so close and you feel so fucking good–

His teeth sink into your neck as that blinding pleasure takes hold; his entire body seizing up, abs tightening as his orgasm slams into him. Kyoutani cums with a hissed snarl, crushing you against him as thick, warm spurts fill your perfect little cunt right up. He fucks you through it, a slow, lazy grind of his hips against yours as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth, pressing gentle, soothing kisses along your collarbone while you sniffle and sob pathetically.

“Love you,” he grunts quietly – truthfully – letting your exhausted body collapse back against the table. And it’s now he regrets not having taken you home to do this on an actual bed, just so he could lie you down somewhere soft afterwards and curl up beside you. 

Still, there’s not much he can do but try and comfort you as best he can, rough fingers running soothingly up and down your back as he waits for you to calm down. He pauses after a moment though, staring oddly at his hands.

There’s blood smeared across his skin, caked under his nails, splattered up his tattooed forearms. And Kyoutani can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss your shoulder again, his cock still stuffed inside of you. 

Most of it isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kyoutani #yandere kyoutani x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou #tw blood #tw violence #tw implied minor character death #tw non con #i love the angry tennis ball

[agoddamn]

The concept of Force exhaustion is pretty popular in fic. It follows a basic ontological logic; if there's regular tired, there must also be Force-tired. There must be a sense of visible exertion with physical consequences.

But I'm not sure how much that actually tracks with the Force.

I've been keeping an eye out for canon intense uses of the Force/failed uses of the Force/etc and I think it's just...not quite like that.

Luke is sweating when he's practicing on Dagobah, but Dagobah is also a humid swamp planet and Luke is physically exerting himself at the same time (carrying Yoda, handstands, etc). In fact, I'd argue that Yoda's assertion of "size matters not" should push us to a conclusion that use of the Force doesn't have a 1:1 direct physical relationship.

I don't think use of the Force is like constipation, where you just keep clenching harder and harder. That doesn't track with various characters' instruction about needing to calm down, clear your mind, and focus.

If you try to keep clenching harder and harder, I think you just lose your grip on the Force, not maintain it. Look at how Luke drops rocks in ESB when he starts getting frustrated. He's making the mistake of thinking of the Force as a muscle you have to flex.

That would track with the Force being difficult to use, after all, wouldn't it? It's counter-intuitive; it's not something with a basic physical analogy like exhaustion and thinking of it like that screws you up.

This would also explain a Jedi habit I've noticed of...hmm, what's the right word. "Underachieving" sounds too judgemental, but I can't think of a better term. Simply: why don't the Jedi succeed all the time? If "size matters not", why can't they catch everyone when disaster strikes?

In the Cody-punches-Grievous episode of TCW, two men with Obi-Wan get blown into space when things start blowing up. He catches and pulls back one using the Force, but not the other. Why? Does Obi-Wan just think that other guy should die?

I think that when it comes to overextension in the Force, you just can't do it. If you start trying to do things you don't have sufficient focus/training/etc for, you lose your grip entirely. If Obi-Wan had tried to catch both men in that particular situation--with the amount of stress he was under with the ship about to blow--I think he would have lost both of them (or at least, Obi-Wan believed this).

This would also track with Yoda's famous "do or do not". The point isn't that you shouldn't do something if you think you might not succeed; it's that the Force is a manipulation of reality powered solely by your mental focus and as soon as doubt creeps in with the idea of "I'll try, but I might not succeed", even just conceptually, you're going to drop everyone. Thus, Jedi tend to be conservative in their use of the Force; if they overreach, they won't be able to catch anyone.

This fits with the insistence on staying clear-headed and able to emotionally disengage, too. If the bridge collapses and all you can think of is how afraid you are that your partner will die, you won't be able to do shit. Not catch yourself, not catch bystanders, not catch your partner. No matter how desperately you feel like you need to do it, if you don't have that clear sense of focus you won't be able to touch the Force at all.

For the same reason, I don't think there's anything to back up the idea of involuntary emotional Force lashing out (ie someone gets pissed and the room gets hit by a whirlwind). I think the danger is in voluntary emotional lashing out. Again, this would track with how Jedi stress again and again not to be controlled by your emotions and always being aware of what you're feeling. If you think, on some level, that you have the right to trash the room when you get pissed--you will. It will not be accidental power incontinence any more than punching someone in the face is accidental fist incontinence. You decided you had the right to do it. You decided this when you decided that you didn't need to think about or address whatever has been stressing you out.

I'd go so far as to suggest that this is partially behind Anakin's struggle to adjust to the Jedi way of life; he's so strong in the Force that he doesn't lose his grip of it when stressed as other people do. That perspective fuels his "well, it works on my machine" attitude. "Lying to myself doesn't stop me from being able to use the Force, so I don't need to stop lying to myself. These guys going on about how I need to think about how bad I feel are just trying to sabotage and upset me."

He's oriented primarily with results because he's strong enough that he never had to try like other people, and this is what leads him to a place where he can convince himself that everyone else was wrong and their caution must be coming from some petty place like jealousy instead of their honest experience of how the world works.

e: more on why expressing stress/exhaustion differently is critical to the idea of Jedi struggling to connect with the rest of the galaxy because this post is already horribly long

#star wars #how the force works #bootsmeta #anakin skywalker #donut steel squad

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Venom Let There Be Carnage Alternate Ending

"What would Venom do?" Eddie asked himself as he tapped on the desk, scrolling through his computer for something to help him. "We're fucked." The reporter banged his head against the desk when there was a knock on the apartment door. Despite their fight, as Eddie got up he hoped that maybe it was Venom coming back.

"Yeah, what's u-" Eddie trailed off when he saw the woman at the door. Frances Barrison had a large grin on her face.

"Hey there Eddie." She stepped in the apartment as the man backed away. "You're invited to mine and Cletus' wedding."

"Do I get a choice in this?" Eddie asked as he scrambled for something to defend himself with.

"Nope." She opened her mouth and began to shriek.

~~

"C'mon Eddie. Pick up, pick up..." Anne sat in her fiance's minivan, trying the man's number again but still got nothing.

'He's not picking up. Typical.'

"Well you're right there." Anne said as she tried to dial again, Venom manifesting over her shoulder to look at the phone screen.

"I'm sorry but how are you so can about this? There's literally an alien inside you right now. You kissed Mrs. Chen so he could go inside you. Don't your think that's weird?" Dan said as he looked at both his fiance and the alien incredulously.

"We know it's weird, at this point we're just used to it."

"How do you get used to that?" Dan asked as he pulled the car into park in front of Eddie's apartment building. The trio getting out and moving inside. Dan reaching for the elevator button but one of Venom's tendrils extended out and slapped his hand away.

'No time need stairs.'

"Venom said we don't have time for the elevator."

"Well tell him that I have tender calves and am taking the stairs." Dan pressed the button again when more tendrils shot out and grabbed the doctor. "What the hell-?" The doctor didn't get to finish as he was thrown up the flights of stairs followed closely by Anne and Venom. "Hey! What the hell was that? ...ow..."

'Tell him I think him and his tender calves are full of shit.'

"Venom said this was easier."

'Liar.' Anne rolled her eyes at the symbiote and instead focused on finding Eddie's apartment. Wasn't hard considering the door was blown almost completely off.

"That can't be good." Dr. Dan commented as they stepped over the door.

'Thank you for the commentary Dr. Dan.'

"Hey he's doing his best." Anne defended her fiance. Facing the room she was greeted by a mess. Not unusual save the large claw marks along the wall and all the busted out windows. "Don't suppose you had anything to do with this?"

'No. Not that we can remember.' Venom peeked of the woman and called out. "Eddie, we're here and willing to take an apology for your stupidity-wait where's Sonny and Cher?"

"Sonny and Cher?" Dan asked as he looked around the small apartment.

"Our chickens."

"Why do you have chickens?" Anne asked as she took a deep breath. "Uh gross. What's that smell?"

"The answer to both of those questions are, you don't want to know."

"Hey!" Dan came towards them holding a card in his hand. "Found this...I don't think it's good." Venom had one of his tendrils lash out, grabbing the card from Dan's hand and holding it in front of his and Anne's face.

"It's...."

"...a wedding invitation."

~~

"Oh what a happy day! Aren't you excited Eddie? Me and Frances finally getting out promised wedding." Cletus danced in the chapel's aisle excitedly. His suit covered by a ridiculous fur coat as he hummed before taking a seat in the pews next to Eddie. Eddie glared at Cletus as he wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders. "Or you at a loss for words too?"

"I'm gagged you asshole." Came out a muffled grunt as he tried to pull away from the man. Looking across the aisle he saw Detective Mulligan still slumped over unconscious. Eddie had been in a lot of not good situations before. But trapped with a serial killer that had alien symbiote in his body and they both wanted to kill him? Probably near the top of the list.

"All we have to do is wait for our guest of honor to arrive and we'll have a full on family reunion! Carnage sure was excited when I mentioned both his daddies were gon be here."

Daddies? Eddie narrowed his eyes. He was barely able to take care of himself, the idea he had a part in making a baby was somehow more terrifying than the situation at hand.

"Don't worry about him baby." The woman who brought him here laughed as she pulled Cletus away and dipping him for a kiss. "All that matters right now is you and me."

"Don't think I don't know that darlin'." The serial killer returned the kiss and very openly shoved his tongue down her throat. Eddie watched in horror as he tried but to vomit in his mouth. Instead focusing on his hands that were bound in front of him and trying to save at them on a broken off chunk of wood from the pew.

He didn't get very far when the doors to the church slammed open. Both he and the psychotic couple took pause and turned to see Anne standing in there doorway, a very angry look on her face.

"Anne!" Eddie tried to call out excitedly. Cletus pulled away from his to be wife, eyebrow raised.

"And who exactly are you?" Cletus asked. In response Venom appeared, taking over the woman's body and snarling.

"You took our Eddie."

"Oh! Well I guess the show has begun!" Cletus backed away and allowed his body to fade as a large red body took over. He looked like Venom only taller and if Eddie was being frank, much, much more terrifying. It seemed Venom agreed. The symbiote backing away with a loud ,"Shit!"

"Hey there daddy." The symbiote spoke. Extending his arm and grabbing Eddie. Yanking the man in front of them. The other arm turning into a large blade against Eddie's throat. "Don't think we've got the chance to meet. I'm your son. And it's time to pay up."

~~

'Shit, shit, shit!'

Venom cursed as he retreated back into Anne's body. The woman stood there, trying to make the symbiote come back out.

"Venom, what the hell?"

'That's a red one!'

"I can see! What's so scary about that?"

'That means it combined with the blood of another species.'

"And....?"

'And it's a lot stronger than normal ones!'

"So you're saying we're in trouble."

'An understatement but yes. Very much so.'

"Can you come back out now?" Anne yelled as she scrambled back when the symbiote began to approach them. Eddie in his grip, looked almost as terrified as they were.

.

'No way, we'd definitely die.'

"We're definitely going to die of you don't come out!" Anne screamed as she dodged out of the way of a tendril. It narrowly missed her head as she began to crawl under the pews away from the creature.

'No you're definitely going to die. We'd probably be fine.'

Another tendril wrapped around Anne's ankle, starting to drag her back to the creature.

"Yeah but Eddie won't be!"

'Hmmmm....'

"If you come out I'll let you eat people!" Anne was now full out panicking as she clung to the leg of a church bench for dear life.

'Really?'

"Yes! Everyone! Just help me out!"

'Okay!' The bench finally gave way but Venom took over the woman's body. As they were pulled up to the creature, Venom jumped up and punched the creature with a hard uppercut. This surprised them enough to drop Eddie. The reporter quickly crawling out of the way as the red symbiote retaliated. Bringing the makeshift blade down on Venom as they just further their own shield. The two trading blows when the church bells started to ring loudly. Both the symbiote screeched in pain. Retreating into their hosts bodies.

This left Anne and Cletus staring at each other. Anne getting ready to run when she was grabbed from behind by the strong arms of a woman.

"Hey there blondie." The other woman giggled as Cletus approached them.

"Ah Frances darling, got me another wedding gift? You shouldn't have." The bells continued to toll when the man grabbed a stray plastic bag from the dirty floor and wrapping it around the woman's face. Anne choked and gasped while the couple just stared at her with glee. Darkness starting to creep into the woman's vision when there was a loud shout.

"Hey! Get the fuck away from my fiance!" The grip on Anne loosened allowing her to fall to the ground. She immediately took the bag off to see Dan holding an aerosol can in one hand and a lighter in the other. "Say hello to my little friends!"

By now the bell had stopped and everyone was clearly able to hear this terrible quip.

'He did not just say that.' Venom spoke in Anne's head.

"No...he did."

'I still don't get why you left us for him.'

Venom couldn't complain too much as he took over Anne's body again. Dan lit his makeshift flame thrower and backed the couple away. The red symbiote taking over Cletus' body again and growling.

"This isn't over." The creature hissed out, grabbing the woman and swinging out of the chapel she cackled, them disappearing into the night. But that wasn't what was important. Instead they rushed over to Eddie who was sprawled out on the floor.

"Eddie!" Venom rushed over to the man. Leaning down they ripped the gag out as he opened his eyes.

"Mmm...Venom? You actually came?" He sounded surprised. The symbiote sliced through the ropes and brought the man up in a hug. "Whoa there buddy....you must've really missed me."

"We're still angry at you."

"Yeah. I kind of figured."

"Is there anything you want to say?"

"I'm an idiot?"

"And?"

"You're not a parasite?"

"And...?"

"And....I'm sorry. I was a huge asshole and I could probably be a better host."

"Isn't there anything else you want to say to them?" They turned to see Dan who had been intently watching them from a distance.

"Anything else?" Eddie asked confused.

"Like I love you?" Venom asked and Eddie made a face before leaning in.

"Yeah. I guess. I love you sounds about right." Venom leaned down, lips locking with Eddie's as they left Anne's body and took over his.

"Aww..... that's sweet. I think." Dan spoke as Anne stepped back. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. Honestly I'm glad they're finally working through their issues."

"Yeah....here's hoping they don't have anymore kids though." Dan laughed as he said this. "I mean, what are the odds?"

#venom #venom let there be carnage #eddie brock #symbrock #veddie #fanfiction #anne weying #dan lewis #cletus cassidy #carnage symbiote #alternate ending #also if the hint isn't enough #they're having another baby

[cevans16]

Ask Her To Dance

Summary: You’re part of the Avengers during the Infinity War era, you and the cast have a final party in Greece

You had all recently finished filming Infinity War, traveling to Europe to start the promo tour, ending up in Greece. You played a military veteran who had started working for the Avengers, you had grown close to the entire cast, having a crush on Sebastian. Sebastian had always been a quiet one except when he was with you or Anthony Mackie. 

It was the last night after a ton of interviews, photoshoots, etc. Robert had suggested you all go out to a club to blow off some steam and as as last hoorah. So there you were in a midi skin-tight lavender summer dress and black high heels. Scarlett had done your makeup in a dark smokey eye look balancing the rest with a natural shade while Lizzie did your hair in voluminous curls, you looked sexy to say the least.

“Wow....you look wow, I’m not a lesbian but I would turn for you” Scarlett said once they took a final look at you. 

“What am I not hot before this look?” you teased

“Oh of course you are but now I can’t hold myself” she said smirking at you. 

While they were finishing up you heard someone knock on the hotel door, you went to open it to find the boys standing there, they didn’t say a word but their eyes looked like they were about to pop out. 

“Okay...where’s (Y/N) and what have you done to her?” Robert jokingly asked

“Stop! You guys coming in or what” you said stepping aside to allow them in

“I think they’re almost done, I’m going downstairs to get us a cab” you said.

You didn’t see that Mackie had elbowed Sebastian to go with you to the lobby. Sebastian blushed and shook his head, “Come on.....hey (Y/N) you shouldn’t go alone, Sebs here will accompany you” Mackie announced. 

You looked at him with a confusing look but didn’t ask any questions, at least not in front of the boys. “Okay...come on Sebastian”. 

“Ladies first” he motioned to you to walk inside the elevator first to head down

“Such a gentleman” you said. You leaned on the elevator wall, tapping your heel on the floor

“You look beautiful (Y/N)” Sebastian said in a soft whisper, you felt your cheeks heat up at him complimenting you

“Thank you, you look great as always” you replied, this time you saw him blush, he smiled scrunching in his nose in that adorable way that he always did when he got shy. 

You let the driver know that you would be down in about twenty more minutes. You and Sebastian headed back up to see if everyone else was almost ready. You walked in to the room with Scarlett and Lizzie finishing up the last of their makeup. You grabbed a mascara to touch up on your own eyelashes. 

“You ladies take forever” Chris Evans teased you three

“Okay then wait for us over there” you turned to say to him 

You kept eyeing Evans for a bit, he obviously caught onto your expression.

“Noooo whatever it is don’t” he said a little frightened

“Seriously, you two film a movie where you are a couple and now you act like a couple” Robert teased

Robert’s comment caused Sebastian’s heart to drop a little bit. He knew you and Chris Evans were only great friends but after seeing some of the footage of the Knives Out movie you and Chris played as a toxic couple, Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder if there could be something more between you and Chris.

“Oh stop no, its not like that but I do have an idea...well more of a favor” you said

“What?” Chris asked you

“Can I please put mascara on one of your eyelashes because yours are so long and I want to see what they look like with mascara!” you asked him excitedly

“What the fahck noooo” he said, his little Bostonian accent showing

“Please Chris, just one eye! I promise I’ll wipe it off.....please, I’ll drop on my knees to beg you” you pleaded

“Can you at least wait for all of us to leave, we don’t want to see that” Robert joked

“Shut it Downey” you said laughing, “Please Chris, I’ll give you ten bucks”

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, mulling over the situation for a second. He couldn’t say no to you though, you had become such a great friend to him.

“Fine, just one damn eye that’s it” he said to you

You did a little jump of joy, walking over to him. He was on the end of the couch next to Sebastian. You set your knee between Sebastian and Chris who had scooted a bit over to give you some space. 

“Why am I letting you do this?” Chris said already regretting his choice

“Because you love me” you teased at him

“That I do” he immediately replied

Sebastian would be lying if he said that he wasn’t jealous at hearing Chris say that, or seeing you get along great with Chris, let alone seeing how close your face was to Chris’. He didn’t say anything, only intently looking at you place the mascara on Chris’ eyelashes. Mackie on the other hand could tell the little green monster was getting the best of Sebastian slowly but surely.

“Ohhh my gosh -CHRIS- this isn’t fair” you yelped seeing his eyelashes grow longer and darker

You glanced quickly over to Sebastian, he looked away instantly, a light blush on his cheeks. 

“Wait, you have long lashes too, not like Chris’ but--OKAY this isn’t fair, why do you boys get long lashes” you commented

“Yours are long too so stop whining” Chris said

You were still looking at Sebastian’s eyes, they were a beautiful shade of blue, you loved his eyes, this was the first time you were able to see them so upclose though. 

“Are you going to stare at him or can I wipe this damn makeup off?” Chris asked pulling you out of your trance. This time you felt yourself blush with Sebastian being the one to catch you.

“Sorry- yes Chris you can go now. Sebastian, would you let me put mascara on” you now asked him

“I’m sure he’d let you do anything to him” Mackie commented, earning a deathful glare from Sebastian

“It’s okay if you don’t want to” you immediately added

“Nahh let me see doll” he smiled at you, leaning his face closer to yours, you felt your breath hitch.

“YAY, okay look up just a little bit-oh wait hold on” you said, you put the mascara that you had in your hand behind your dress, you pulled out another one from your thigh, Sebastian was a little confused at the switch.

“Don’t say anything but I used waterproof mascara on Chris” you whispered giggling at your confession. 

“You’re bad” Sebastian replied chuckling at your little shenanigans, Chris was going to flip. And he sure did.

“Okay I’m almost don-” you were about to say

“(Y/N)!!!!!” you heard Chris yell for you, he came out of the bathroom followed by the girls who couldn’t stop laughing

“What?” you asked innocently

“Don’t ‘what’ me with those eyes, you put waterproof on didn’t you!?” he stated

“Noooo look” you said showing him the mascara you had in your hand

“That’s bullshit where is it!?” he yelled

You knew he wasn’t entirely pissed but he wasn’t too happy either

“Chris I don’t know what you’re talking about” you said trying to hide the smirk on your face

“I see it” Chris said at the mascara that was placed behind your back in your dress. Chris swiped it out quickly, almost shoving it in your face.

“I’ll get you back” he peered at you 

“Ohhh how scary” you said cackling at this point. Chris didn’t respond however he slightly shoved you towards Sebastian who caught you with his hands on your sides, both of you blushing immensely.

“Sorry” you both said at the same time. You could feel everyone else’s eyes on you and Sebastian. You got up from the couch walking over to get a makeup wipe remover

“You have nice eyelashes too Sebs.....actually your entire eyes....its not fair” you complimented him

“Thanks” he replied shyly.

He was about to take the wipe from your hands but you shook your head, reaching over to his face to wipe away the makeup

“Why does he get special treatment?” Chris asked, he knew exactly why.

“Shut it” you said

“I’m still going to get you back, this shit does not come off easily” Chris said complaining.

The girls were finally done, all of you doing one last check before heading out to the bar lounge which was a little far away from the hotel. 

After a twenty minute drive you arrived to your destination, you and the girls headed to the restroom while the guys got some drinks and headed over to the private section. The place wasn’t too crowded or crazy but there were enough people to give it a great atmosphere. It also overlooked part of Greece and the ocean, the warm humid weather being complemented with a nice breeze.

“So now that we’re done with the tour, maybe you should ask her out before you start filming here?” Mackie encouraged Sebastian.

“Ehhh I don’t know man, I don’t think she likes me” Sebastian replied shyly

“Oh don’t start with that, she is into you! She just doesn’t make it obvious, Scar told me that she thinks you’re cute sooo can’t be wrong, won’t hurt to ask” Mackie said. 

“Trust me she likes you” Chris added in with a wink at Sebastian. 

“Where did you go?” Hemsworth asked him

“I was getting payback” he smirked

Sebastian was going to ask Chris what he meant until he saw you and the girls walking over with your drinks.

“Man this place is beautiful!” You yelled over the music. 

“You’ve never been to Greece?” Lizzie asked you 

“Nah it’s my first time so be gentle” you joked, Sebastian almost spit out his drink

“Speaking of first times, how’s the movie for you two going?” Scarlett asked you and Chris, you both turned to look at each other

“Not bad actually, definitely more risqué than what I did in Vampire Diaries” you explained.

“Ohhh I may or may not have requested that song” Chris Evans confessed while drinking his beer

“What!! Why?!” you yelped

“Oh come on, you know people go crazy when they see you on the screen with that song playing” he smirked

He was right, there was a certain scene in the show you had done where your character is a newly turned vampire, almost dirty dancing with one of the bad boy vampires at a college party. 

“I swear everywhere I go they play that song” you added

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing” Evans said. 

“What show?” Sebastian asked curiously, he had heard about the show but never watched it. Sebastian’s comment added onto the fuel of everyone around you. 

“Out of all people, YOU for sure have to see it, she looks hot” Scarlett motioned over to you

“Scarrrr” you gritted through your teeth. Luckily you were saved by the song playing over the speakers, Feel So Close by Calvin Harris boomed over the place. 

The intro had you moving to the beat, you loved this song, it brought you great memories from when you were part of the Vampire Diaries show

Almost a minute into the song the DJ yelled, “We hear a certain vampire is in the building!! Give it up for (Y/N)!!!!!”

Sure enough they played that certain party scene on the big screen. You and your former costar Ian Somerhalder killing it as vampires dirty dancing.

You felt yourself blushing, embarrassed at the unwanted attention. You turned to Chris Evans who was laughing his ass off while recording your reaction and everyone else.

“Let’s see your famous vampire moves!” the DJ yelled into the microphone

You yelled over to Lizzie and Scarlett, “Too bad I don’t have my friend to dance with me”

You moved your hips stronger to the rhythm of the song, twirling, making the exact moves you did when you had done that certain episode. You were laughing, carefree, having fun almost forgetting about your embarrassment.

Sebastian was paying attention to both you and the scene playing, he had to watch this show he thought to himself. He always thought you were gorgeous but this scene seeing you with blood, fangs, dancing, turned him on more than anything. However he also wished he was the guy who had been dancing with you for that scene.

Your final move was another sway of your hips, in the show you had ran your finger on your costar’s face to wipe some blood, sucking on it. You did the exact same move to Scarlett who acted like she was fanning herself. The boys and Lizzie laughed at your move, the entire place going crazier.

When the song ended, you shoved Evans, “I hate you!!!” you yelled over to him

“Payback’s a bitch sweetheart” he laughed, you shook your head, “ahhh come on, you know that song brings you back to good old times” he added

“I hate to say it but you’re right” you agreed, the song reminded you of great times with your former castmates

“What about it? You and that guy dated” Sebastian asked curiously

“Ian...no he was dating someone else but he’s still a great friend of mine. We had such a blast filming that part, brings me very fun memories from when I did that show” you explained.

After Evans’ little stunt on you, you guys were all dancing around having a great time. 

The next song to come up was Gimme Gimme by ABBA causing you and the girls to go crazy, the boys only laughed enjoying your excitement.

You, Scarlett and Lizzie made a sandwich between each other, all dancing carefree. You all took turns lip syncing, twirling each other.

You yelling “GIMME GIMME GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT!!!” with Scarlett and Lizzie doing a supposed back up dancing. 

Sebastian had never seen this side of you, at this moment he really wished you were his girlfriend because he really wanted to kiss you. 

“You should ask her to dance” Robert yelled over to him, motioning to you

Sebastian instantly shook his head, “I can’t...I don’t want to make it awkward plus she’s having fun” he added. 

“Suit yourself” Robert said walking away to get some water

You were all at the lounge for about another two hours, enjoying a night out with each other. 

One of the next songs was I Feel Love by Donna Summer

Sebastian wasn’t going to ask you to dance until he saw you were with Evans’ heading towards the dance floor besides Hemsworth and his wife Elsa dancing next to you and smiling at you both. 

You started to hold Evans’ left hand moving to the beat as it picked up both of you laughing about something. Sebastian looked at Mackie who was smirking at him, “You’ll regret it if you don’t” leaning in closer to Sebastian, “trust me though there’s nothing more going on between those two” he explained referring to you and Chris.

Like clockwork, Sebastian walked over to you and Evans, Lizzie and Scarlett noticed because they called Evans over to dance with them, you were about to follow when you heard Sebastian yell for you. 

“(Y/N), want to dance?” he said smiling shyly

You felt your heart skip a beat, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea because you knew your feelings for Sebastian would probably get worse but you decided to just live in the moment

“Sure!” you yelled, placing your hand onto his, he twirled you first and then you two were moving into a great rhythm to the song

You liked that Sebastian kept you close but still was respectful to your space, its not that you didn’t want to be grinding on him but you also wanted to respect Sebastian. 

At one point he pulled you in close to his face and said, “I really would like to kiss you (Y/N)” 

You looked up at him, you didn’t know what to say at first so you pulled his face down towards yours, playfully licking his nose with your tongue causing him to laugh

“What was that for?” he asked surprised at your action

“I’ve wanted to kiss you too Sebastian” you confessed

With that Sebastian then licked your nose with his tongue while he held your face with both of his hands and then he kissed you passionately. You two kissed each other like there was no tomorrow while still keeping to the beat of Donna Summer’s sultry song.

“Holy shit!!!!” Evans yelled over you two, “fucking finally!!!” he added while the rest of cast cheered you and Sebastian on.

Although the song is almost eight minutes long it felt like two with Sebastian. You two kept dancing, giving each other a few kisses here and there. 

At one point you were all back to your private section again. The final song was 34+35 by Ariana Grande 

“Oh-I love this song!” you yelled

“YOU, innocent (Y/N)?!” Mackie exclaimed

“It’s not that bad” you said defensively 

“Just give me them babieees” you sang loudly but looked at Scarlett, making a come here gesture for her to join you.

You kept singing the song, surprising everyone because you weren’t much into pop let alone a song about explicit sex. The girls joined in including Robert’s wife Susan and Elsa, Hemsworth’s wife.

Sebastian was mesmerized by you in so many ways it drove him crazy.

“Baby, you might need a side belt when I ride it” you acted like you put a seatbelt on, saying your hips like your were riding. 

“I’m living for this” Lizzie chuckled while dancing with you too

“Sebastian...look away” Evans’ said covering Sebastian’s eyes playfully

“Nooo leave him alone” Elsa laughed

After a while, you all started gathering your things to head back to the hotel. Sebastian grabbed your hand, kissing it and smiling at you.

“What” you asked him smiling back

“Nothing, well, would you like to uhm.... go out on a date with me?” he asked you a bit nervous

“I would love to Sebastian” you said

He scrunched his nose in a cute way that he always did when he got nervous or flustered. 

“I can’t wait” he said leaning over to give you a kiss on your forehead

“I told you to ask her to dance” Robert said smiling over at you both.

You were glad that Sebastian had listened.

#sebastian stan x latina reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagines #sebastian stan imagine #Sebastian Stan

[mmvalentine]

Pomegranate pt 3 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Rhysand stalks around the townhouse all night, and into the next morning. His inner circle are concerned, but do not approach. They know him well enough to know that attempts at communication are fruitless when the High Lord is in this mood.

By evening, Rhys is back at the Spring Court, but Tamlin has placed sentries in the field where he used to meet Feyre. They trample the wildflowers.

Rhys makes his way to the manor, pulling the shadows tightly to him so he can move unseen. He unfurls his wings and glides over the roof, landing lightly on the tiles and listening closely for Feyre’s thoughts. Prior to now, he has refrained from listening into Feyre’s mind out of respect for her privacy. But now, he has no other way to locate her.

Rhys eventually hears her in a room on the top level of the house, in the east corner. Her mind sounds just like her voice: soft and curling like the wispy ends of clouds. He waits a moment to make sure no one is with her, and no one is approaching, and then slides easily in through the window.

“Hello little one,” Rhys says lightly.

Feyre whirls around from where she is sitting at the dresser, and her eyes go wide. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but then seems to think better of it and just crosses the room into his arms. Rhys strokes her hair, but feels grim even as she clings to him.

“Hello you,” she says eventually, and her voice shakes. “How did you find me?”

“We made a deal,” Rhys says in response. “I have to visit you every day for another three months, remember?”

“That’s true,” Feyre says, and the relief is heavy on her face. And then she smiles a crooked smile. “Or maybe you just finally had an excuse to make it into my bedroom.”

Rhys tugs her toward her bed and sits down on the end of it. Feyre moves to sit next to him, but Rhys pulls her into his lap instead.

“So,” he says. “This is your prison, huh?” His eyes rove around the room, and Feyre’s follow.

“As my father likes to point out, no prison has quite so many trinkets or soft furnishings.”

“Can you go out, or have people in?” Rhys asks.

“No, of course not.”

“Then it’s still a prison.”

Feyre’s eyes fill with tears, but they do not fall. “I know,” she says quietly. Rhys kisses her then, because he doesn’t want her to cry.

“Did you ever try to escape?” he whispers to her.

“Once,” Feyre admits. “Last year. I got locked in after I got caught with the stable boy. I tried to leave. I failed. And I was punished.” Feyre does not expand on this, and Rhys does not push any further. Tamlin’s temper is infamous in Prythian, and although Rhys’s father never liked him, nor did he provoke him.

“Well maybe I will steal you away after all,” Rhys murmurs. Feyre gives a brittle laugh. “What?” Rhys asks. “Would it be so terrible to be a member of my court?” Feyre tilts her head.

“Do you know what my father says about your court?” she says.

“Tell me,” Rhys prompts. Feyre takes a deep breath and then sighs, her shoulders lifting and then slumping with the movement.

“He says, in the Night Court they torture people for fun. He says they are a savage people, who rip out the throats of their enemies with their teeth. He says they live in the dark do depraved things that are not fit to see the sunlight.”

Rhys watches her for a moment. Feyre is playing with the lapels of his jacket, and looks at her hands while she talks.

“Oh yes,” he says eventually. “We bathe in the blood of those we have conquered, and dance naked in the light of the moon.” Feyre looks up, alarmed for a second. And then she laughs, and so does Rhys.

“I’d like to see you dance naked,” she teases.

“Anything for you, little blossom,” he says, and yanks at the top buttons of his shirt. Feyre laughs again, and swats his hand away. Rhys says “shhhh” and waves her to be quiet, and Feyre buries her face in his shoulder and shakes with silent laughter. “It’s not funny!” Rhys says. “I’ll be hanged if I’m caught in here.”

Feyre lifts her face, suddenly serious. “Don’t go,” she says. Then she shakes her head, and looks down again. “You can’t stay. You should leave.”

“Okay I’m getting mixed messages here,” Rhys says, trying to meet her eyes. Feyre doesn’t look up. “Hey,” he says softly. “I’m going to get you out. And you can come live with me in the Night Court, and I’ll make you Queen of the darkness.”

Finally, Feyre raises her eyes and looks up at him through her lashes.

“I’ll run the revels,” she whispers.

“You’ll sever heads.”

“I’ll sharpen my teeth.”

“You’ll howl at the moon.”

“I’ll spill the wine.”

“You’ll rule them all.”

“And we’ll always be together.”

“And we’ll always be together.”

Feyre’s hands have tightened on the back of Rhys’s neck, and he loves the fierce light that has sparked in her eyes. He puts his lips next to Feyre’s ear.

“And then one day, we’ll come back here, and burn Tamlin’s house to the ground. And I’ll put you on the Spring throne where you belong.”

Feyre looks at him, and he watches a hundred dreams and nightmares flicker in the ocean of her eyes.

And then watches them all blow out.

“You should go,” Feyre says. She kisses him with her hands clenched in his collar. “You’re not safe here.”

“Neither are you,” Rhys tells her, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I’m safe,” Feyre says. “I’m just not free.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“I don’t know. But you should go before my father comes, he always makes sure I’m still here.”

“Okay,” Rhys says. “Just one thing before I go.” And then he pulls her mouth back to his.

Rhys kisses her slowly, at first. Takes his time committing the taste of her to memory, the curve of her bottom lip beneath his tongue. Feyre is so warm in his lap, and despite the direness of their situation, Rhys can’t muster any worry for it. Not right now. When his tongue finds Feyre’s, she makes the sweetest moan, and he wants to wrap around her body until there’s nothing between them.

Feyre shifts in his lap, and suddenly he’s on fire. She burns him everywhere she touches him, or maybe he’s burning from the inside. Rhys isn’t sure, but he’s pulling them back to lie down on Feyre’s plush blankets, and now she’s beneath him and she’s still kissing him like she’s trying to destroy him.

“Put your hands on me,” Feyre whispers to him, and Rhys doesn’t need to be told twice. He grips her hip, and then smooths his hand up her waist to her ribcage. His thumb strokes the underside of her breast, and he savours the shiver this elicits from her. Runs the pad of his thumb back and forth gently, before squeezing her whole breast in his hand. He can feel her nipple against his palm, and the two of them exhale in unison.

Rhys squeezes her again, and then breaks the kiss to watch her face as he tugs at the lace in the front of her dress. Feyre’s face flushes, and he can feel her heart thudding. But she arches her back up toward him, and he undoes enough of her bodice to be able to slide his hand under it. Feyre’s eyes close and her lips part, and Rhys kisses her again as he touches her bare skin.

“You feel perfect,” he tells her. “I am undone. You are perfect.”

Feyre pulls his face back to her, and the way his hips rock into her is completely involuntary. He moves his hand on her breast, licks his tongue against hers, and forgets his own name.

Reality comes crashing in, loud and unwelcome, a minute later.

“Fuck!” Rhys says, his head snapping up.

“What?” Feyre startles.

“I can hear your father coming.”

“What?”

Rhys rolls off of Feyre, and she pulls her dress back together. “Go now,” Feyre hisses.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Rhys promises, and slides his hands under her jaw to kiss her once more.

“Don’t,” Feyre says. “It’s too dangerous."

“I don’t care,” Rhys replies. “I love you.”

“Rhys…”

“Tell me tomorrow.” He winks, and winnows.

When Rhys gets home, the court is in turmoil.

“High Lord,” Azriel says in greeting. His brother only uses his title when the news is very bad.

“What is it Azriel? What’s happening?”

Cassian and Mor step into the room then, and they’re all wearing the same look on their faces. Rhys looks to the Shadowsinger.

“Hybern is on the move.”

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @tanvee1231

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine

[litsetaure]

I need to talk about this scene. Initially, I thought that Gellert just slipped up and blew his cover; he got caught up in what was happening that he forgot himself. You can almost sense it; the Aurors are thinking ‘wait, what?’ Mind you, if this is the point where the MACUSA (and, for that matter, Newt) realised that something was not right, I have some serious questions about what exactly actual Percival Graves was like! It really does say a lot about Graves that the first time they realized that Graves probably wasn't Graves until that speech that basically overturns what they thought he believed on the Statute of Secrecy. Not to mention that sentencing Newt and Tina to that creepy as fuck death penalty didn’t raise any alarms at all!

But then, I thought about the context. If I recall rightly, this scene is directly after Credence has apparently been killed. Obviously, come the second film, we know that’s not true, but as yet, no one else does. And I started to wonder - did Gellert actually slip up? Or did he intend to reveal himself? Had he just had enough and decided to tell ‘his’ colleagues the truth?

I mean, if you listen to him speaking - initially, he doesn’t really sound just angry. Maybe a little bit, but to me, he sounds more sad and frustrated. Especially at the start with the line ‘Madam President…I ask all of you. Who does this law protect?’ It might be his accent, but to me, he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. His cause is something very important to him and he just witnessed what he thought was a murder of a boy who had a condition that was in no way his own fault. And that would strike a chord within him. Because he’s seen it before with Ariana Dumbledore. A young person suffering from a condition that was in no way her fault, but which kept her trapped and hidden away because of a law that would see her taken and locked away by a draconian Ministry, under the guise of keeping the wizarding community safe and secret.

And it frustrates and hurts Gellert. He doesn’t blow his cover here because he got sloppy. He effectively revealed himself, because he’s had enough of hiding. He wants these people to understand what’s at stake. To see that the law they value so much is only hurting them and others like them. And why is it their obligation to hide? They’re not shameful. They’ve done nothing wrong. Are they really to be condemned to live in secret and fear because of something they can’t control and to protect people who lash out at what they don’t understand?

Yeah. He’s not really angry, or not just angry. He’s just done. Done with all of this bullshit. He knows the damage the statute can do. It denied Percival Dumbledore the right to tell his side of the story (out of fear for his daughter) and ripped him away from the family who needed him. It destroyed Albus’ chance for a future. It also ultimately cost Kendra and Ariana their lives.

And even if he hasn’t initially given away enough to tell everyone who he is, he’s told enough to make it clear which side he’s on. He’s not stupid. He had to know that some people there may have suspected who he was, or at the very least a follower of Gellert’s, and he just turns his back on them after that speech that basically confirms which side of this conflict he's on, if nothing else. And he just turns his back and walks away (in disgust), like it's no big thing. Like there aren't AT LEAST 30 Aurors and President Picquery at his back, and also Newt Scamander and his trunk full of creatures (and Dumbledore's man). That is one hell of a bold power move. He’s saying ‘I know what I’m revealing to you here and I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m done hiding away. I’m not going to tolerate this law that condemns and harms us. I’m going to fight it with everything I have. If you want to attack me and fight me, that’s fine. I’m up for it. I’m not giving up. Do your worst.’

Also, if you watch the fight, it’s pretty typical of what we know of Gellert in a fight. He’s got virtually the entire MACUSA ready to take him down (and he also does not look remotely worried by this, rather he’s thinking ‘okay, fair enough. Do your worst’) but, when they’re firing at him, it looks as though he never casts a single attacking spell. He only appears to be using shielding charms. Damn powerful ones, yes, but shield charms nonetheless. And that’s very similar to what we see and hear of how he fights. He never attacks first. The threeway duel? Aberforth drew his wand first. The fight at the rally? The Auror attacked first, killing the red-haired witch. And here - he knows the Aurors intend to take him down. In such a situation, you have the right to protect yourself - which he does, with the shield charm. But, again, he doesn’t appear to attack them.

And yet, with only shielding charms, he more than holds his own until Newt sends out the bird. That is INCREDIBLY impressive in and of itself. But it’s even more impressive because of one small detail.

The wand he’s using is not the Elder Wand. It’s (I assume) Percival Graves’ wand. Which means Gellert is doing all this badassery with a wand that is not actually his own, either simply because it didn’t choose him in the first place (which it obviously didn’t), or because, not only did it not choose him, but he also didn’t win it/become that wand’s Master. We don’t know what happened between him and Graves (though I’ve seen somewhere that JKR has confirmed Graves is still alive…can’t for the life of me remember where though!), but damn…that’s really impressive.

(Side note, but it’s really interesting to note that, if Gellert did leave Graves alive, it’s not the first time he’s left someone alive when someone else might have killed them. He did the same with Gregorovitch when he stole the Elder Wand. He got the wand, but left Gregorovitch alive. I’ve wondered about that before, since surely the last thing he should do is leave any sort of trail, especially when looking for a powerful artefact like the Elder Wand. And leaving Gregorovitch alive does, ultimately, come back to bite him in the arse when Voldy comes calling. It’s possible that he simply does not take pleasure in killing, and really only does it in self-defence, which says quite a bit about him, in all honesty…)

But this final point about the wand(s) leads to another issue. If Gellert is master of the elder wand and does all that impressive shit with Graves’ wand that isn’t his…how does he lose to Albus?? He’s shaping up to be immensely powerful, intelligent and magically gifted (and also, in terms of his ideas and motives, ABSOLUTELY RIGHT) and yet…Albus beats him? I’m not saying Albus isn’t powerful as fuck and a damn good duellist (he certainly is), but I feel like Gellert is more than a match for him - and they both know it. And yet…Albus wins the duel, and the Elder Wand. It seems suspicious to me. As though…actually, yes. I’m going to say it. I’m now 1000% convinced that Gellert might not have outright surrendered, but he was absolutely holding back against Albus and, in the end, for reasons currently unknown, he threw the duel.

#grindeldore #gellert grindelwald #fantastic beasts and where to find them #percival graves #Grindel!graves #MACUSA #Youtube #the elder wand #discourse #theory