#3) this one shouldn't make people cry as much you're welcome.

[inkskinned]

it's hard to explain because inevitably you sound like an asshole, but some people are allowed to lose their temper, lose their mind - you're not, though.

when your friend never texts you first and misses your birthday and never makes an effort; you don't mind. you know she's struggling, and you want her to get the help that she deserves. you give her every excuse and every chance.

it shouldn't matter to you so much that people are always coming through for her. you want her to be happy, you love it for her. you love that her community rises up to the occasion. why does it bother you that when she snaps at someone, says horrible mean things - but two hours later, everyone is comforting her while she's crying. you know she's stressed. why do you kind of hate that she is welcomed back to her job, that her parents are endlessly wiring her money.

and you're - fuck, are you envious?

but when you don't text back, someone sits you down and says i know you're struggling, but you're being a bad friend. when you're too numb to show up for work, your boss just shakes his head. i'm sorry. i can't approve more time off. we have the company to protect. when you finally snap back at your family for making that shitty comment again, you're forced to apologize for being too sensitive.

god forbid you need something. people aren't used to you being the one asking. you're the giver like the book you hated; your pages all open and rumpled. you always have the answer, always have the solution. you are reliable, trustworthy. people like you don't struggle with things. you're supposed to be lifted by tragedy. you are given a maximum of 24 hours to grieve, and then you need to just behave at the party.

you can't read the giving tree without feeling like crying, and even that feels like it's too much emotion. like, nobody looks at you and assumes you're the tree; they'd name five other people before even considering you in the running. you're just there, never-asking.

your friend gets to say mean shit, that's just her personality. when you make a snide comment, you're just being petty. people laugh when your friend stands you up for another event; they say she's just like that. you were 5 minutes late to a meeting with friends and they were mad about it for the rest of the evening. your friend sets everything on fire; everyone applauds her through the ashes. you so much as light a candle: and suddenly now you're an arsonist.

you don't want your friend to suffer, though. the thing is that you just wish that the empathy and kindness your friend gets - you wish you had that option, that everyone offered you grace and money and a gentle reception.

the other day you were fighting down the bad urge; the void call, the end note. you tried-anyway. you went to the family event, tried laughing at the right moments. nodded and smiled and all of it. one of your siblings threw a fit, but she's allowed to, so everyone just rolled their eyes about it. you took 3 whole minutes to stand outside when you got overwhelmed. you literally set a timer about it.

in the morning you woke up to a text from your parents: you were a complete disgrace last night. idk what your attitude problem is, but you really need to fix it.

[shadowwolfmemes]

My blog is NOT a safe place for proshippers!!!

Hopefully, I won't have to repeat myself after this. If you're a proshipper/darkshipper and you come across my blog, make a graceful U-turn and simply GO FUCK YOURSELF!

I don't give a rat's rotting ass if you don't support pro-contact, I still cannot confide in people like you. Here's another thing that I don't understand about y'all. How are you going to call yourself 'anti-harassment' or complain that antis "harass" you, but then go around and interact with antis all willy-nilly to try to persuade them that they're in the wrong?

And no, most antis don't go out of their way to harass you. They mostly block the people they dislike so that the proshippers don't get the chance to interact. The ones that do interact with the people they dislike are just wasting their own time. I suggest that you don't waste your time with them either.

I hate proshippers, but I don't waste my time trying to convince y'all that what you're doing is wrong. That one time I had to interact is when I asked one of my followers if they're a proshipper or not (they were, so I blocked them). Call me a "bad person" for doing that if you like, I will stand by with what I did and I'm not actually sorry for blocking them. :)

Here are some examples of the most popular dogshit excuses they use to try to make themselves look as innocent as possible.

Excuse #1: "They're not real, so why does it bother you?"

It doesn't matter that the characters are fictional, it's still disgusting that people like you glorify illegal material like incest, pedophilia, abuser x victim, child porn, etc.

Excuse #2: "Fiction doesn't affect reality. It can't hurt you."

While it's true to some certain extent, the way it's used in this argument makes it worse. Again, it doesn't give you the excuse to worship pedophilia and other problematic ships that shouldn't be normalized. Fiction or not, some things shouldn't be shared at all.

Excuse #3: "This is just my coping mechanism."

I'm sorry, but this is one of thee most shittiest excuses I've ever heard in my life! In fact, the term 'excuse' is too kind for this. What's another word to describe this bullshit? Glorifying problematic ships is not a healthy way of coping. Why? Because you're manipulating your brain into thinking that whatever traumatic experience you went through should be romanticized. No normal person would do that to themselves and justify it.

Excuse #4: "If you don't like it, just block them."

I do. Like I previously said, I don't waste my time on these people. I want them to stay as far away from me as possible as much as I stay away from them. However, fantasies the proshippers have shouldn't be shared as a normal factor. It's okay to write about dark topics, what's NOT okay is romanticizing/normalizing it.

Before I close this off, I want to say that all of this applies to radqueers, too. Y'all are not slick, you're just as bad as proshippers!

Does this post offend you, proshippers? If it does, good! Y'all are NOT welcomed in my blog whatsoever and I will do anything in my power to make sure you don't get an opportunity to interact with me.

I'll say it one more damn time;

MY BLOG IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR PROSHIPPERS AND IT NEVER WILL. ANY PROSHIPPER/RADQUEER THAT INTERACTS WILL BE BLOCKED ON THE DOT.

GO CRY ME A RIVER, MOTHERFUCKERS! BOO-FUCKING-HOO! (This is directed towards the proshippers and radqueers).

[swannieluv]

.ᐧ.ᐧ ⊱ Rain, apples and smiles ⊰ ᐧ.ᐧ.

Summary - It's raining again in Fontaine, but maybe someone can help to make a rainbow out of his sadness.

Info - pairing: (platonic) Neuvillette x gn. child reader – w.c: 1.1k – TW! Crying and referenced neglect towards reader.

a/n: This is my first time ever writing something, so feel free to leave your thoughts on comments! I would really appreciate it if you could like and reblog (if you enjoyed it!). Comments, asks, brainrots and rambles are always welcome!! <3

The Hydro Dragon, Father of the Melusines, Chief Justice Neuvillette. Those are all titles assigned to him. No one would have the nerve to disrespect this man, let alone on trial. His expressionless face is often able to make people speechless, he is like a stone in the middle of the sea of people and changes.

He is supposed to be a serious person, he's the Chief Justice after all. He shouldn't feel sadness towards the guilty, he should be firm and not let the mundane morals affect him, yet he can't help but feel his chest tighten at the end of every single trial, the looks of despair plastered on the face of the criminals.

It's raining once again, people in the streets are running to seek refuge under the main street shops' roof. The skies turned gray in the blink of an eye, well, in a blink of Neuvillette's eyes.

He absolutely didn't desire to cry now. Maybe the Melusines are also in a bad mood now because of it. He'll probably apologize later for it by letting them play around the court.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry…” — he listened to someone's voice, but couldn't quite place where it came from.

“Why are you crying, Monsieur Neuvillette?” A small voice asked him from above, Neuvillette could only see a child, who seemed to be no older than eleven, seated on a tree's branch. Their [e/c] eyes spying on him while the rain made their tattered clothes and unevenly cut hair wet. He tried to quickly wipe the hot tears with the back of his hand, only for it to be met with numerous new ones that wouldn't stop running down his cheeks. He would be surprised at the fact they knew his name, except for the fact that he's the Chief Justice.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Are you sure, sir? You don't look like someone who's happy though.” — They tried to inspect his face, but couldn't see much due to the angle they were. The only way to know if the person in front of them was really crying was to be quiet and listen to the quiet sniffling sounds he let out from time to time. — “The Hydro Dragon is also crying… is it such a sad day?”

“What are you doing outside in this cold rain, child?” He crossed his arms, not daring to face the child. This man didn't want to get caught weeping by a child, it would be too humiliating for someone his age.

“Well… I got stuck in this tree…” — their face became a bit red from embarrassment. It was the truth, though. They were trying to collect some apples on the tree due to their hunger, only to end up stuck. It's not their fault, really! They just thought that descending from the tree would be easier than climbing.

“Jump, I'm going to catch you.” — he looked up at them, his puffy eyes with fewer tears sliding from them. Neuvillette opened his arms in their direction, as if telling them to trust him to catch them.

“Uh… I…” — they looked down, the ground spinning in a nauseous way — “Okay!”

They took a deep breath and closed their eyes. The child held their apples close to themselves as if they were precious treasures and jumped. The cold wind made them shiver as they were expecting to land in his arms, alternatively they would land face down on the ground.

“...!” — their eyes slowly opened. Their [e/c] eyes made contact with Neuvillette's blue ones. Then he put them back on their feet again, giving them a small pat on the head, like he does after the Melusines tie his hair. “Thank you.”

Some apples fell from their arms as they fell. Neuvillette took notice of their poor appearance and ran his fingers through their hair in a soft and careful motion. It wasn't uncommon to see children like this that came from the slums, they usually become criminals or die before reaching adulthood, he felt guilty once again for not being able to effectively help them.

“What are those apples for?” — he picked up the fruits off the ground, analyzing it.

“I'm going to give it to the other children. They need it.”

“Only apples?”

“Yes… that's what I could find.”

Neuvillette eyed them for a second. He soon started walking away, signaling to follow him. Their steps echo through the place, it was slightly uncomfortable. They soon reached his office, there were some piles of paper above the wooden table. There were some ink stains on the edge (probably from this overworking during the week). He decided to just leave the fruits he picked up there.

“Oh… I haven't asked your name, child” — he picked up a towel from a drawer and started to dry their hair. — “Do you even have one?”

“Yes, it's Monday”

“Monday? Were you born on a Monday?” — Neuvillette pondered about how they could live without an essential thing like a proper name. He cracked a small smile as he saw their messy hair after being dried. "They definitely need a proper haircut", he made a mental note about it.

They smiled a bit while fidgeting — “No. Everyone calls me that because I was found on a Monday… no one really cared to give me a proper name…” — they were interrupted by his sudden pats again.

“Then I'll give you one, if you wish to.”

“A name…” — they looked up — “then I want the best name ever!”

“The best name ever…” — he crossed his arms, a small smile on his face — “What about [Name]?”

“[Name], [Name], [Name]...” — they repeated it a few times, trying to get used to it. — “Okay, I'm [name].”

His glance returned briefly to the apples. — “You said you were going to give them to some children, didn't you?” — Neuvillette picked a fruit from the table — “I'll ask some help… and we're going to bake some apple pies for them, what do you think?” — he didn't care about the extra work he would need to do after, it was only… a break, yes. That's what he's going to tell himself when he feels bad after it.

Their eyes gleamed with happiness, they just wanted some apples, yet they're receiving apple pies? That was a blessing for them and a small reminder to express their gratitude for the hydro archon… only if there's still any kind of respect for her, though.

They went to one of the kitchens in the building and baked the most delicious apple pies they (the Melusines) could. And if anyone asks why the kitchen got flooded… [name] can just say that it was the hydro archon's fury, and definitely not because they almost burned the place and Neuvillette tried to extinguish the fire… which only caused more damage. But they are happy now with their apples and smiles. And for the first time in centuries, there was a rainbow in Fontaine.

[sophieinwonderland]

okay first off i dont even care that i have the possibility to be put on blast FUCK YOU ? you're trying to convince people that being a sys without trauma is valid when its medically proven its not true ?? + tulpamancy is a closed practice

okay ! have a horrible fucking day and if i get put on blast oh well <3

The... possibility to be put on blast?

I mean, you sent an ask off of anon presumably with the intention of it being responded to publicly. So I'm responding to it publicly, as I assume you intended?

Like, you're acting like being "put on blast" would be something terrible I'd be doing to you, but it also feels like it's something you very much are wanting.

You're an odd little person.

To get this out of the way first, while tulpamancy draws its an etymology from a Tibetan Buddhist practice in the same way the word hurricane has roots in Native American culture, a word having an etymological link to another culture doesn't make it appropriation. (Unless you plan to remove hurricane from your vocabulary too.) And if you think that there's a closed practice anywhere on Earth called "tulpamancy," I don't think you're nearly educated enough about the basics of these cultures to presume to speak for them.

Anyway, to the big point, where has it been "medically proven" you can't possibly be a system without trauma?

What were the studies that "proved" this? Can you name the doctors?

I have no problem listing doctors who have expressed support for endogenic plurality. I did so just yesterday.

It shouldn't be hard to find at least one saying "you can't be plural without trauma," or "you can't be a system without trauma," or even "you can't have dissociated parts without trauma."

Speaking of which, one source I didn't include above because it seemed more neutral was from the creators of the theory of structural dissociation. This one suggests it may be possible that hypnosis and spiritual possession may involve self-conscious "dissociated parts of the personality."

This one doesn't seem explicitly pro-endo but at the very least is open to the possibility and encouraging future research to explore it. Which is a far cry from your claim that it's been medically proven you can't be a system without trauma.

Surely, if it had been proven that the only way it was possible to have multiple self-conscious parts was through DID, the creators of the theory of structural dissociation themselves would be aware, wouldn't they?

Different academic sources use different terms for plurality. Where the creators of structural dissociation refer to having multiple self-conscious "dissociative parts," the World Health Organization's ICD-11 uses the term "distinct personality states."

The ICD-11 also adds though that you can experience the "presence of two or more distinct personality states," the characterizing feature of DID, without a disorder.

Thus far, every academic source I've been able to find on the concept of endogenic plurality has either been explicitly supportive or at least neutral.

If you've found sources saying otherwise, you're always welcome to provide them.

But if you're just repeating things because you've heard your friends saying them, I'd advise being more critical in the future because it's very easy to spread misinformation on the internet. If someone is claiming that something is scientifically impossible, you should always ask for the sources to back up their claims to make sure there's actual support behind it before spreading those claims around.

[archivalofsins]

OH ANGER CANCELED‐ he talked to Mikoto.

(Please like and reblog the original translation.)

Also feel free to take a gander at these as well- Milgram Timeline Translation, Interview with DECO*27 and Takuya Yamanaka on the Interactive Music Project MILGRAM -ミルグラム-, and Rochisama's Portal Timeline Translation and Interrogations as well. I will be referencing information gathered from all of these translations in order to support some points throughout this post.

The Milgram Timeline Translation is still a work in progress. So, please don't bother the people working on it for more, be patient, and respectful. Translating things takes a lot of work and effort that shouldn't go underappreciated. I'll also link these again when I reference them as well.

With all of that out of the way today I'll be discussing Kazui's August 5, 2024 Birthday interaction.

Quick side note my anger is not canceled I was just being hyperbolic because I was excited that it was Mikoto. Milgram stop fucking foreshadowing and do the thing already challenge.

24/08/05 (Kazui’s Birthday)

Mikoto: Well, you know... I appreciate your feelings, but... I don't know what I might do, even I'm not sure myself. So, I think it's best if we're not together for a while. Besides... haha, aren't you scared <-(Point 1) Kazu-san?

Kazui: Hmm, due to my job <-(Point 2), I'm used to dealing with troubled youths. You must have your reasons. I don't feel like prying. Well, come over if you feel like it. Staying alone all the time will make you feel down. I can keep you company if you need to relieve some stress <-(Point 3).

Mikoto: Yeah... I'm not really used to relying on others, you know. How should I put it, I feel like I'm being a bother. <-(Point 1) I can't bear that feeling of being pathetic... I guess I'm being very Japanese about this, haha...

Kazui: Hmm...well that's fine. If that's easier for you, I won't force you. But you know people in their twenties are still kids (Point 3). It's admirable that you're hard on yourself, but I think it's okay to cause a bit of trouble for others. After all I'm nearly forty <- (Point 4) and I'm still a kid at heart.

Point One: Scary & Bothersome

In this timeline interaction we overhear Mikoto state his discomfort with asking others for help. He states that he has a difficult time relying on others because he doesn't want to be a bother.

This is an issue alluded to through both of his music videos,

MeMe

"You don’t have to keep it in and hide it away “I” will save “me”."

Double

"I’ve got you, leave it to me."

"Welcome home, another day, another day with that hardly barely there of a smile. Keeping things at bay, you’re doing your best “No, I need to do more…”, say what? You’re gonna break."

"Oh, hello? Mom? It’s been a while Yeah… well, I mean, some days are hard, but… I’m doing alright, don’t worry- How’ve you been? I’ll go home next time I get some time off."

First Trial Written Interrogation

Q.16 What’s your relationship like with your parents?

Mikoto: My parents are divorced. I get along well with my mother though, she’s the one who raised me I don’t want to make her worry.

That he can't,

"Bear that feeling of being pathetic."

MeMe

"If I could laugh, if I could go back I’d play dead even though I’m alive right?"

Double

"Hey now, I saved you, right? So why in the hell are you crying? Cling to me, hoist me up as your “savior”, stand up and sing out your gratitude, that’d be good." - "Hey, I just wanted to save you, so why did it come to this? Cling to me, hoist me up as your “savior”, stand up and sing out your gratitude, so why."

Being pathetic-

Mikoto asking Kazui if he's not scared of him also mirrors how Kotoko asks Mu if she's afraid of her in the timeline interaction prior to this one,

20/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Muu: Muu thinks it's all Kotoko's fault in the end. Because Kotoko went on a rampage, everyone's desperate. They're not paying much attention to Muu. Somehow, it's boring. I don't get it.

Kotoko: ... Did you come all the way here just to tell me that? Aren't you afraid of me? Next time, my fangs might be directed at you.

Muu: Why? Kotoko punishes bad people, right? Muu isn't bad. Besides, hehe, you're talking like you're fine, but aren't you the one who won't be forgiven, Kotoko? What will you do then? Will you bite yourself? Hehe, that's interesting. I'd like to see that.

Kotoko: ...You're good at provocation. I'm praying that you won't be forgiven. When that time comes, I'll thoroughly crush you.

Continuing their parallels.

These are all the reasons why on the surface everything Mikoto said here would come off as just the usual. Like of course he'll be this way it's how he's always been. Yet there's a bit of weirdness to this as well.

The issues with his behavior here begin to reveal themselves when we take into consideration how he's interacted with everyone up until this point in comparison.

For example let's take into consideration how Mikoto has acted towards Kotoko over the course of the portal timeline,

20/05/27 This is Rochi's translation and the link goes to their page. The timelines listed here will be their's unless stated otherwise.

Haruka: Haa…… haa…… Haa…… Ah…… Um…… Ko-Koto-Kotokotoko-san……

Kotoko: ……what?

Haruka: Eek…… eh, um……! I-I! I’m sorry! ……I-I’ll see you later……!

Kotoko: ……what was that about? This is the third time.

Mikoto: Oh~ Koto-chan, you’re here. The guard was complaining earlier that you never answered their call.

Kotoko: Huh? ……I never heard about anything like… Haruka……!?

An individual Mikoto has been hounding to partner up with him since the series started,

20/07/01

Mikoto: Hey, hey, Koto-chan. I’ve been thinking this ever since I first heard your name, but don’t you think the names “Mikoto” and “Kotoko” kinda sound like siblings?

Kotoko: No.

Mikoto: Don’t say that! Let’s get along well from here on as the Koto-Koto combo!

Kotoko: I’m not doing that.

Mikoto has been bothering Kotoko incessantly from the start with little regard to her feelings on his behavior but he's suddenly worried about being a bother now?

Kazui even cited their possible team up as being an issue for Milgram as a whole.

Stating,

"Ah… yeah. Like back when he went out of control, right? I can't quite read him, though… If both of them were to attack us, it's possible that we'd suffer a total defeat." A total defeat? "If that happens, this prison game would probably come to an end as well. All of that depends on your judgment, right, Guard-kun? Who will be forgiven by you and who won't be…"

Voice Drama Translation Transcript

That this prison game would come to an end if Kotoko and Mikoto teamed up. This makes Kazui approaching Mikoto on his birthday and offering to help him seem like a calculated action. Well more so his attempt at dissuading Mikoto from teaming up with Kotoko and get him on his own side.

This is Kazui actively attempting to mitigate a possible problem that he actively warned the guards about. In the hopes that the audience and Es would have continued to vote Mikoto guilty. Now he's left to try to stop this potential crisis.

Kazui never once complained about Mikoto's more standoffish and isolated behavior during this trial. This is the first time he's attempted to reach out and it's seems to be when Mikoto himself has settled down for the most part. Even though he is still rightfully worried about what he may possibly do.

But with the possibility of Mikoto beginning to socialize again and possibly continuing his attempts to collaborate with Kotoko it makes sense for Kazui to kind of want to get ahead of that if he can. Especially since he's stated that Mikoto is an individual he has trouble reading and getting a general idea of.

Even if it weren't for those things he'd still have a vested interest in intervening in any possible team up Mikoto could have with Kotoko. Simply because Mikoto has been having conversations like this,

20/08/03

Mikoto: By the way, Koto-chan. Who’s stronger between you and Kazu-san? <-(Point 1) You both know martial arts, right?

Kotoko: ……if it was a fair one-on-one fight <-(Point 1), probably Kazui.

Futa: Isn’t that obvious? What a stupid question. There’s no way a girl could win in a fight against a man. This is real life, not a manga. There’s too big a difference in body size. And that’s what determines the weight of your attacks.

Kotoko: ……Futa’s not entirely wrong there. In a lot of martial arts, they specifically split up divisions based on body weight for that reason. I’m bantam, and he’d probably be either cruiser or heavy. Well, I’d still break an arm or two though.

Blatantly discussing in the open whether or not Kotoko could take Kazui on her own. Kotoko even stating that in a fair one-on-one fight she wouldn't be able to. However, in a two on one unfair fight those odds change a lot and that may be the sort of fight Mikoto is interested in. Because he's not interested in playing nice with Kazui even though he's very cordial here.

If Kazui overheard this as well his concerns about Mikoto possibly teaming up with Kotoko in the second voice drama would be more than reasonable.

Because it seems like the only reason Mikoto wants to team up with her despite admitting,

Q.12 What do you think about Kotoko?

Mikoto: I don't like her.

Is just to beat the shit out of this one man. I don't know why- Hell, honestly I don't really care why simply because it's funny that this may have been a long term goal of his. I don't believe this to be a leap because why else would he be asking Kotoko who would win between her and Kazui? Sure it's a casual way of broaching that topic but it's perfectly reasonable to ask why the topic needed to broached.

Does that make sense?

I'm curious as to why he was curious about this. I also don't think it's a leap to assume he might want to jump him given he's paired with the prisoner who jumps people and we've seen him sneak attacking people in his own mv as well.

Plus, again he certainly hasn't worried about being a bother to Kotoko. He's done nothing but bother her. Here's the timelines to prove it.

21/08/13 (Mikoto’s First Trial)

Mikoto: Ugh… ow, ow…… Ahh, first I get stepped on, then I get kicked, what even is this……

Kotoko: ……welcome back. How was it?

Mikoto: Ah, Koto-chan, I’m back. Honestly, where do I even start!? Just look at this lump on my head! It’s huge! I don’t even remember what happened, but this is violence!

Kotoko: Hm… How unfortunate.

20/10/07 (Mikoto’s Birthday)

Mikoto: ■■…… gh…… Gah…… ■■…… aaa…… nh…… ■…… ■■■■■……!!

Kotoko: …………hm. Have you finally calmed down? Kayano Mikoto.

Kotoko: ………… So you want me to wish you a happy birthday <-(Point 1)? I don’t really mind, but is that really something for you to be saying to me?

Mikoto: You’re the last person I need to have the whole group <-(Point 1). If there was just one person left it’d be bugging me all night and I’d never get to sleep, right? At times like this you have to abandon your pride and just say something, right~?

Kotoko: Ok, here you go. Happy birthday. ……if this is what will help you sleep soundly.

Mikoto: Oh, thanks! Now I don’t need to worry~

22/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Mikoto: Ah, Koto-chan. It’s been a while. Both of us have kinda split off from the group, but how’ve things been? <-(Point 1) A lot’s happened, but for now let’s try to get along. I mean, it’s your birthday today, right? I got the feeling nobody else was going to do anything, so I came to celebrate <-(Point 1).

Kotoko: ……how carefree. It doesn’t matter, a villain like you won’t be forgiven next time either. And when that time comes, it’ll be the end for you. I’ll make sure of it myself.

Mikoto: Ahh?? Just try and do it, you nutjob. I’ll crush anyone who hurts me…… You’re gonna be totally beaten at your own game……! [TN: The word “me” here uses first person pronoun “boku”.]

Kotoko: Hm. The border between the two is getting a lot vaguer. Your entire existence is a crime. <-(Point 1) And I will see you’re punished for it. That is what Milgram, and Es, and I have chosen.

That's the whole reason Kotoko says this in her first trial written interrogation,

Q.14  Are there any prisoners you don’t get on with?

Kotoko: Mikoto. He’s loud and bothersome.

Okay well how do we know Mikoto dislikes Kazui to the extent that he would want to jump him. Hey, wasn't this a birthday timeline weird? Wasn't it missing something? Man I couldn't imagine what-

Oh, wait birthday wishes? Just like Mu's when she spoke to Kotoko who instead of wishing her a happy birthday threatened to kill her and hoped she got voted guilty.

Well, it's not like there's any evidence that Mikoto is someone who cares deeply about birthdays or even a statement that tells us Kazui has wished him Happy Birthday before himself that would be-

I'll stop fucking around let's get into it,

From Mikoto's Birthday 2020,

"You’re the last person I need to have the whole group."

Mikoto gets upset at Kotoko in his first birthday timeline because she is the only person out of everyone in Milgram not to wish him Happy Birthday. Meaning Kazui very much to Mikoto's own admission wished him a happy birthday.

Next his birthday from 2021,

21/10/06 (Mikoto’s Birthday)

Mikoto: ……ah, Futa? What’s up? Did you come to celebrate my birthday?

Futa: Hah!? Like I care about your birthday. ……what’s up with you, though, you’re usually a lot more excited. I thought you were the sort of idiot who’d make a big deal over your birthday.

Mikoto: Yeah, usually that’d be the case. ……I think I must be getting tired. It’s like I’m anxious over something but I can’t really explain what it is…… Like, the feeling that I’ve been totally wrong about something. Haha, but it’s not like talking to you about it is gonna do anything.

Futa: Yeah, yeah, just like you say. Talking to me about it isn’t gonna help. ……but, it’s not like I don’t get what you’re saying. Or rather, I understand exactly what you mean. And if it’s the same thing as I’ve been feeling, then it will just get stronger as time goes on...... probably. But anyway, rather than talking to someone like me you should go and bother the others. Go and get showered with their stupid birthday wishes.

Futa highlights that Mikoto has a habit of making a big deal out of his birthday like Mahiru and Mu do. Mikoto doesn't deny this either blatantly admitting yeah he makes a big deal out of his birthday and he usually would be doing so but he's a bit tired. Because that trial one verdict is hitting.

Futa even tells him he should go and bother the others and get showered with their stupid birthday wishes. Implying that he in fact did bother everyone else for birthday wishes the previous year as well and that's how he got birthday wishes from everyone. Yes he even bothered the child if what this is implying is correct.

But wanna know something funny?

The only person that Mikoto has wished a happy birthday to consistently is Kotoko. This is quite literally the first birthday interaction he's appeared in outside of his own and Kotoko's and he didn't even wish this man happy birthday. That's how little he knows or cares about Kazui.

He doesn't even know todays his birthday or- Well, I'll save that for another point.

Point 2: Occupation

This one is shorter than part one but should be interesting as well.

"Hmm, due to my job, I'm used to dealing with troubled youths."

Okay, this could mean a lot of things but for the sake of clarity and knowing when to take L's when necessary I'm going to view this as confirmation that Kazui is in fact a cop first. Now before I go into a long tangent about why I would personally dislike him being a cop let's actually discuss the facts.

Why do I believe this statement can be interpreted as alluding to the idea of Kazui being a cop as accurate. Well in all honesty it doesn't have to mean that but ignoring the possible elephant in the room isn't going to help anyone. Plus I have a duty to myself to not ignore the information laid right in front of me even if I don't like it. Because if one makes a habit of running from reality they'll only be running in the opposite direction of their own possible happiness all of their life.

First off Kazui in the translation states that due to his job he has experience with dealing with troubled youths. Troubled youths here could also mean violent youths.

Taking into consideration the definition of the term DoctorBunny sent to me,

As we know also from DoctorBunny the police division associated with Kazui's armband is,

Department 1/捜査一課 Check out his post on the armband

Which deals with,

[deals with murder, robbery, assault, abduction/kidnapping, false imprisonment, sex crimes and arson ] of the 刑事部 Keijibu the Japanese dept. of criminal affairs

Now all of this showcases that the division he was depicted as serving under would deal with some violent youths around Mikoto's age. This supports the framing that he's a cop. It really is that simple if the facts align they just align.

Now there are some things that once given this subtle confirmation cease to make sense in hindsight. Including Kazui stating,

Q.04 Are your family proud of you?

Kazui: Nope. They probably don’t consider me anything more than an embarrassment.

and in his second interrogation stating,

Q.10 What was your father’s job?

Kazui: He was a policeman. It seems he’d always wanted me to be one too.

However, this can be easily explained away by assuming he became a police officer but did something that led to him being fired or let go. Not only ruining his name but his familial name as well. He doesn't say that his family used to be proud of him and they just consider him a disappointed now though.

While in other instances he does make statements that allude to things being new developments,

Q.13 Who do you want to see right now?

Kazui: They won’t see me anymore.

Q.09 Tell us your family structure.

Kazui: It’s only me now.

Which makes it sound as though he's been a disappointment to his family for a while. It also just makes a lot of his narrative odd in hindsight unless put under a certain framing.

Specifically due to his glitched voice lines,

"Er, so…… could you listen to what I say without laughing? I…… Hinako, I love you more than anything. I'm so dumb… Why did I have to dream."

Now no one else's glitched voice lines have been lies. So taking out of consideration any new voice lines being revealed trial three because I can't know what is not yet known. It'd be difficult for me to believe that Kazui's glitched voice lines are lies when none of the the prisoners glitched voice lines have been lies so far.

Plus even if one does want to believe that he's lying about loving Hinako here that would ignore the framing of his entire first song. Or be due to someone reframing it to discuss a yet to be seen third party such as with the prominent gay theory.

Now I don't speculate about fictional characters sexualities. I just write what I like to write. I don't enjoy writing speculation on that because my own sexuality was put under scrutiny through most of my adolescent life and I know it's not fun from first hand experience. So, I don't like doing that. But for the sake of positing a third solution let's say that Kazui likes men and women for the time being.

Because I don't want this to come off like I'm taking shots at a wildly popular theory that I care nothing about.

So, under this hypothetical scenario where Kazui is attracted to both males and females. Let's hypothetically say the female he was attracted to was Hinako as he says in the glitched voice line,

"Hinako, I love you more than anything."

Let's pretend for ten seconds this voice line is a true statement- Can we all play house for a minute?

This would align with his cover song Cowardly Montblanc.

A song specifically about being afraid to tell someone that you've known for a long time that you like them. That also has the added benefit of implying the singer is referring to a work acquaintance at that-

"When we meet to discuss our contract- Once again, I go on falling into you."

Also for clarity's sake I'll put down all the lyrics from Cowardly Montblanc and there Half equivalents,

"These are all the feelings I have; I’ll only say them in this many words. I loved you, but it was a heavy burden. Is that all there is?"

All this time till now has hurt me, the scales of my heart has decided to sway. If continuing to hide is called unhappiness- Not even one word will get to you.

Who was it that I loved again? All that time I spent whiled away, and you disappeared into invisibility, even though we should still be touching.

Please tell me what I should do, my heart will float away and disappear. If I were to make sure and suffer, I would rather be by your side. Laughing together, side by side, this distance in our relationship is misleading me, is this what happiness is? Where did I go wrong, probably from the beginning.

If I completely forget you, my reflection will disappear.

The curse of reuniting with you puts a dagger in my heart. I imagined that you saying "See you" is the same as "It's over”. Only if your heart would change but that’s not possible. Please tell me what I should do, feelings shrouded in lies will float away and disappear. I could try you, and also try to touch you but you probably won’t notice. I understand that this love is out of bounds, so nothing has to change. All these memories and you- Only if I could erase them.

Put me under anesthesia. My face flushes at your inside voice. I can’t turn back time, so even the truth is okay. I'm gonna get scared again.

I’m sure nothing will change and we’ll laugh together and call each other stupid names. So many things I wish I hadn't known, I'm just a coward. What I gave up a long time ago why is it questioning me now? So many things that I should now have known, I'm just a coward.

This mont blanc tastes of sugar. Barefoot as I am, I want to indulge in your sweetness.

Laughing together, side by side, this distance in our relationship is misleading me, is this what happiness is?

“I wish you’d just hurry up and die!”

"All these memories and you. Only if I could erase them.

Kazui's official commissioned fanart is also just her ghost lingering over him. Staining him red in areas too.

Just never listen to a English cover of Cowardly Montblanc ever actually. Because that would really re-contextualize this shit for a lot of people. Because when I saw Cowardly Montblanc I was like oh shit that break up song. That song about someone refusing to be fucking turned down.

The translation "I wish you'd just hurry up and die."

The first cover to introduce me to this song ten fucking years ago,

"That's right, you're here with me now. That's right, you fade somehow. Because of that, I never can tell you just how I feel. "It would just be better if you died... ...right before my eyes"."

Though these covers are pretty good.

Even without relying on fan translation the wiki lyrics translation isn't doing him anymore favors by highlighting the one continually falling is the singer. Then turning it around at the end like you're going into me now while still highlighting the continued cowardice.

It really does highlight Kazui's mindset within Milgram well. The mindset where he believes he should have kept lying and honesty isn't worth it. Because taking the lyrics of Cowardly Montblanc in any version is just like yeah no actually yeah lie. Cowardly Montblanc is literally the and we never spoke the truth again song.

While quelling my doubts by thinking, “Even the truth is okay,” I was wishing for it all to be a lie. Because I worked out the consequences, and I was still a cowardly mont blanc, after all. You’re going into me so we can repeat this ad nauseam. I’ll gasp out any response to that I can think of.

Cowardly Montblanc is the "truth hurts" song. Half is the follow up where Kazui goes,

"I should've committed harder. I should have lived and breathed the bit."

For almost four whole minutes.

Going if I could have just kept lying maybe you'd still be here. Which aren't words that a man who doesn't care deeply about someone else would commit to.

Yet he's said it rather consistently,

Q.18 Do you regret your “murder”?

Kazui: I regret it. I wish I could’ve just kept lying.

And the prisoners can lie in their written interrogations, their voice dramas, and even imagine misleading visuals in the song extraction if they're feeling a bit fancy given After Pain. But they can't just lie in the lyrics of the song.

Like some things have to be true.

They can be sneaky sure but like there has to some facts here. Even discounting all of Kazui's first cover song it is repeated throughout Half that he wants to still be with this person and for nothing to change. He also states that he regrets his actions elsewhere but literally that is all of Half.

Even in Cat he's says it's much better to be a let down to someone else than get let down. Which implies that he's been let down before and did not enjoy it.

Plus you don't say,

"Maybe, perhaps... or... could it come true... like- It’s for the sake of true love, who wouldn’t lie for that?"

He even spells it out right here it's for the sake of true love who wouldn't lie for that and the only person he's been displayed lying for, wanting to lie for, or regretting not lying for is Hinako. Which in retrospect makes that one blank answer from his trial two interrogation so much more fucking funny.

Q.11 Did you love the person you killed?

Kazui who has spelled out that he did as much as he can, "Interesting well you people clearly can't read. So, I don't even have to dignify this with a response."

Who wouldn't lie for true love? I guess he lied because he didn't love her-

Kazui: ... (Hinako, I love you more than anything.)

Okay but what does this have to do with the cop thing? Well the thing is if he is a cop then what about his life was wrong? Like what led to this murder. He got the job his father wanted him to have, married the woman he loved to his own admission. Everything should have been fine right? Well, ya know there's this funny thing that cops do for jobs.

Sometimes they go undercover with other cops even have to play house and fake a relationship for the job. This is discussed when cops marry unknowing civilians but they can also do this with other cops and they will both hopefully know it's just work. It's just business. Now I personally think it would be hilarious if Kazui actually liked Hinako and caught feelings over the course of cover work but she was just here like uninterested.

Because it would explain the misleading distance in their relationship. Why they seem to just be playing house in Half. Why we've never seen the inside of said house outside of the set of that play. Using the ring like any of the other props in his arsenal. All of that would be explained if they were actually doing undercover work. But it's not like the only solution I mean she could've dumped him maybe she wanted the divorce then what.

Who am I to say. He could have very much still liked her and she could have just lost interest over time. Then that scene where they're talking off stage is her just trying to let him down gently who are we to say that he wasn't the one dumped here. Everyone else in this series who has had a relationship of any kind has gotten kicked to the fucking curb he is not special.

Kazui is out here like,

"Love (plus) Destiny = Crap, smash it, shatter it, bye-bye." then five seconds later- "To be caressed by you, that would be perfection."

Come on, I mean come on.

Now this next thing is just me being bullheaded because I typed it all up and I don't want to erase it. So have fun with this mini rant about why I think Kazui being a cop would be boring.

*Beginning of Rant*

This would be a boring outcome to me. Because I've already read two other cops written by Yamanaka and to say the least I wasn't impressed by either. I was slightly impressed by the first one but that had to do with a myriad of things disconnected to his status as a cop and he stopped being one by the end of the narrative. I don't even want to talk about Shota even though I understand his issue intimately when it comes to living by a strict ruleset and being greatly insecure when it comes to making decisions for himself due to trauma.

Long story short everything decent about either of those characters were due to aspects outside of them being cops and mostly good character writing in general. The cop angle was actually rather cliché and if I had to take it a step further I'd say it was trite. If those characters existed as stories in Omniscent Reader Persephone would send them back- Okay, I'll stop being salty like they wouldn't be. Because if they were on Persephone's plate I'm certain they'd lack flavor. Wait I have one more Jackalope called Mikoto mass produced goods but honestly with how many cops Yamanaka has written I'd say that'd be Kazui.

Okay I'm done. For real this time.

I'm personally hoping he can hit a happy medium with Kazui but given what I've seen previously I'm doubtful for sure. It's like if I kind of liked the first course, and I kind of hated the second course but was even more mad that outside of that one aspect this character was really good... It's my hands are tied I can't lie about my preferences my standards here are high my first experiences with cops in anime were Detective Conan and the file You're Under Arrest in elementary school.

He's not topping that my standards are too high I can admit that. Do you know how many cop shows I watched regularly I watched ID discovery religiously in high school. Kazui would have to do something impressive for me to not go ahn regular cop shit. That's on a narrative level.

The secondary thing is if I thought he was a cop I would've voted this man guilty on principle. All cops are bastards isn't just a fun acronym it's a state of mind for me. If I find out someone is a cop they tank in favorability as they should. Cops have never helped me. I don't doubt that they've helped someone but like not me. Like literally one my earliest memories are cops handcuffing my mom and sister in our home.

And then to add insult to injury I found out later those cops were sent by my cousin because he fucking hates my mom and he was a cop at the time. He told me this he had no shame about it I wasn't even holding it against him really. That was a back and forth situation between my mom's family and my dad's. That's a situation where I can fully say every party involved was wrong to an extent. So he had his buddies do that because that's how cops are in my experience. I don't know how they are in anyone else's life but that's mine.

I am acutely aware of the shit cops have and can still get away with it. When cop is added to Kazui it tells me personally that the sky isn't the limit with crime anymore the limit is space depending on how high up he is he can get away with anything and they'd just retire him. The last thing I would want do is help a cop that's my personal line. I mean I like Kazui personally he's a fun and chill guy. I'm nothing if not flexible it's just really a cop? Out of every occupation... Like it doesn't matter how sad or pathetic his life is or who wanted him to be a cop. At the end of the day he's a cop he's good. I think Milgram is actually the only place that could reprimand him in all honesty unless he was also in a Shota situation then the public will do it.

Then as we went over- being a cop runs in his fucking family! So his father has police connections and others cop would want to help him simply because they are on good terms with his father. I'm not going to destroy his reputation or anything. Him being a cop and his father being a cop should be just as bad as Mu's dad being a landlord. It should be worse actually!

Cops are who your landlord calls when they evict you. They are the people who make sure you get gone, sometimes not peacefully, and other time permanently. Like those jokes in Class of 09 these ones it's funny in the context of a fictional scenario but cops can just be like this and that's actually fucking terrifying.

Like it is not fun for me to personally consider Kazui being a cop. Hits a bit too close to home. It is actually quite stressful. I'm not going to hold you I can't say if I would have voted this man guilty solely for being a cop if I thought about the implications of him being one more during his second trial but it definitely would have made me uncomfortable enough not to vote after the knee-jerk reaction subsided. Oh but not all cops- I don't give a shit he's already killed his wife this is like the specific sort of cop people talk about when they refer to bad ones. So he doesn't even get that statement to cover his ass.

He is already in here for murder. I don't know I need to know more in this case. Mostly because even though I do get rightfully upset by this sort of thing I'm not trying to be someone who is completely led by impulse. Yet, since people have proven they're down for a police state as long as people they like are in charge with Kotoko I'm not surprised people didn't touch on it as much as I personally would have and have done here.

I live in the US though you're not about to hear me defend someone for being a cop. I'm kind of pissed this show tricked me into defending one at all. It does not matter what the cops sexuality or ethnicity is to me. They're a fucking cop. Yeah not every cop is bad but the police system is a systemic failure. So, regardless of how many good cops go in they either don't stay good cops or they die. Because it's a systemic failing founded on taking advantage of the vulnerable and underprivileged. Kazui could have been a great cop that would not change how policing is done we can't put the ills of systems on individuals. That's what Shota's story was about.

Yes people can do more harm under flawed systems. Yet, the only real harms they can mitigate while working under a flawed system the ones they themselves could have committed. Plus cops turn on other cops all the time predominantly female ones which we see in Kazui's story. So it just gets worse the more it's looked at fully which is considerably not good.

*End of rant*

Point 3: Everyone's a Child to a Real Adult & Proper Stress Relief

"But you know people in their twenties are still kids"

Kazui views everyone in Milgram as a child. Because he is the oldest here. Regardless of how many people who are legally adults try to compare themselves to him in seniority he is not interested. This is a mindset you get the older you are.

The older you are the older your definition of children gets. To my dad who is eighty being immature or young includes people up to their seventies. This has nothing to do with shipping this is literally how adult mindsets work. What one defines as young is colored by the bias they gain through their lived experiences.

For example I think being twenty five is pretty young. I wouldn't consider it a child right now like that's a young adult. Yet that's because right now twenty-five for me is four years ago. Imagine like in two more decades when twenty-five for me is now twenty-four years ago. Or even just when I'm thirty five and it was ten years ago.

Right now I currently believe I'm much more mature than the person I was one year ago. The me of ten years ago is a child to me. That me was only nineteen. That's a fucking baby I didn't know shit at nineteen I didn't think I knew everything either. God I wish I had that confidence I did not. I barely knew how to use the internet. Because I was pretty much raised without using most the social features and then thrown into it. Man I was kind like Futa back then actually.

I caused my fair share honestly. Man but when you're that age ya know it's good to be cocky. At that age you're figuring yourself out. See I'm doing it right now! That is my point 23 was over a decade ago for Kazui fucking Shidou's age is exactly a decade ago from Kazui. I recently had a short relationship with two people three and four years my senior and the experience quite literally made me want to kill myself.

Like legit I tried multiple times. I'm not joking. Because it was infantilizing. Constantly it was a consistent form of demeaning disrespect and mistreatment. Sometimes I wish people the best and I still do- The best of everything but it's hard. It truly is difficult to not see someone younger than you as beneath in some way or someone older than as condescending and kind of uppity.

Be it as inferior intellectually, less understanding, or just less independent for a myriad of reasons. Which is already something I'm personally self-conscious about already. Now imagine having someone around who simultaneously treats you like a child and the only adult in the room. And that was my October of last year until now.

So I was kind of applauding when Kazui called Mikoto a child. When he said people in their twenties are still children. Because I could feel the way that Mikoto had to hold in a cringe in the text. Like kind of temper himself and I thought I know how he must be feeling right now. To be an adult but not really to have a job to feel like one of the oldest here and have that bubble just popped by Kazui like you're a kid too.

He must be fuming on the inside right now. He must be wondering what gave him that impression were the nicknames too childish is it how I talk. What gave him this impression that I was just some pathetic misguided youth that needs a father figure right now?! What made him think that and if I could put this man in the ground right now ooo mother fucker. Come up to me with this shit on his fucking birthday you must think you're such big man huh.

I'm nearly forty but I'm a child heart hello fellow kids ass son of a bitch. Oh I'm Kazui Mukuhara if you can just beg for my help real quick because you clearly need it- You need a crack upside the back of your fucking skull, fuck you. I said it before and I'll say it again,

"“I” will save “me”."

If I wanted help I'd ask you condescending son of a- get out go! Leave I've turned you down- Away with you! What came out instead,

"Well, you know... I appreciate your feelings, but... I don't know what I might do, even I'm not sure myself. So, I think it's best if we're not together for a while. Beside... haha, aren't you scared Kazu-san?"

And he's just gonna keep talking like I'm gonna change my mind yep there he goes. Mm, hm...uh huh. You gotta be polite it's just one of those days. This conversation will end eventually.

Mikoto's Second Voice Drama

"It's pretty tough, isn't it? Ahaheheh... There's been so many things beyond my comprehension since I got here." ... You really... do laugh when you're suffering, huh? "Huh?" You don't get angry. You don't scream. You laugh, like it's a minor inconvenience. "Ah... I guess so. I might have that kind of trait." ... "If you just laugh and pretend, usually things will work out in the end, right? I'm pretty good at that making things work out to the best of my abilities." Is that so... "Eheheh... But... It's not coming to an end. All of this."

"So, I think it's best if we're not together for a while. Besides... haha, aren't you scared Kazu-san?"

That brings us to the second point.

"If you need to relieve some stress."

As we discussed before the troubled youths thing can also mean violent youths. So it seems like the stress relief being referred to here is friendly sparring to make sure that Mikoto doesn't end up lashing out again. Though Mikoto seems to be warry about sparring Kazui because again he does not know what he will do. Taking his statement at face value here instead of just saying it's because he dislikes Kazui.

It's a reasonable excuse to give. I don't know what I'd do or even my own strength so I think sparring with you would be irresponsible. Is a completely reasonable response to that sort of offer even if Kazui is just trying to help. Like over all this is a very polite conversation. Despite the undertones which I am appreciating.

Kazui even tells Mikoto he can just come talk to him in general because being alone can be difficult. Which we've seen Mikoto have difficulties with how isolated he's become on his last birthday,

23/10/06 (Mikoto’s Birthday) This translation was done by Maristelina but some parts explaining personal pronouns have been omitted check out the link to see those!

Mikoto: Is it true… There’s really another me?  These tattered clothes, and scaring everyone, it’s all because of him. They say I'm a murderer... Isn't it unreasonable to expect me to believe that?

Mikoto: Can you hear me talking like this?  If you can hear me, then answer me. Why are you doing such horrible things? Hey. It's your fault things have become like this. ……Answer me!!

Mikoto: Ah, ahhh!! Because, I did it for your sake…! Because you would break apart!!

Mikoto: What am I doing...? There's no way you'll conveniently give me an answer. I should just stop thinking about everything already...I'm tired......

So, yeah it was just a nice offer not much else to say.

I mean I could go over why it's kind of weird that Mikoto is hesitant to take him up on it. Especially since they were in a smoking club before, he talked about hobbies with him, etc. So it's just generally a good offer but instead of the whole he may want to jump him thing, Mikoto just might genuinely be concerned about what he may do. I mean I'm not against considering that.

It's just I can simply imagine if anyone else gave him this offer he might have jumped on it. I don't know maybe if Kotoko said this.

Point 4: Nearly Forty

Um excuse me what do you mean nearly you were thirty-nine at the beginning of 2020 and you turned forty that year. You had a birthday and everything. So you should be like forty-four today. Weird for you to say nearly forty.

Well, Gunsli you see if they believe they're not aging then-

Then why the fuck celebrate the birthdays? Habit? For fun. I mean clearly not everyone is celebrating it's not like Mikoto wished Kazui happy birthday here or like Kotoko wished Mu a happy birthday in the timeline before this one.

Well if we just believe that they're not aging because they're either dead or in stasis like in Caligula Effect-

Comment from Yamanaka May 16, 2020

"I apologize for posting 2 days in a row. This is Takuya Yamanaka. I realized that there's something essential that I need to clarify to ensure everyone can enjoy Milgram fairly, "so I picked up the pen again." That is, there is no connection between the fictional universes of Milgram, DECO*27, and Takuya Yamanaka's other works. For example, the girl from past DECO*27 songs or that person from Caligula... There are no such connections. Milgram is a completely new world created in collaboration between DECO*27 and I. So, you can dive into this content without needing any previous knowledge of our past works. Enjoy it from the start!! Thank you for your understanding and support."

Yeah two separate worlds. A bit of a bummer not too surprising though. It just would have been so much fun.

A lot of writers have narrative tells or habits. Where even when something is completely new it will have similarities to their previous works that end up standing out to those who engaged with said other works. However, those previous works shouldn't overshadow what a creator is making now.

It's pretty similar to how when Hao came out a lot of people compared the sound to Salamander. Every creator has certain sounds or themes that just tickles them the right way or they simply enjoy exploring. So there are similarities between Milgram and Caligula that are bound to crop up from time to time. Like Yamanaka's writing of cops- I'm sorry I won't bring it up again.

Outside of that Caligula Effect Overdose is a game that covers murderers extensively. So much so that it's wide range social network involves several classes that have been involved in one murder or another. The second couldn't be further from Milgram as it more so focuses on rehabilitation while growing to better work with and trust others.

Something Milgram itself and the staff have stated the series is not about. However with that bit of concrete information given to us we can stop with the comparisons and start cracking into the world of Milgram proper.

So before we get into age let's talk about the concrete things we know about Milgram as a world.

It canonically has twitter and Jackalope is on it,

April 28, 2020 Jackalope Announcement

"Hey, have you been waiting patiently? I'm gonna explain what you guys are gonna do next. ... Wait for May 1st, 7:00 PM. I'll personally teach you all about Milgram. Well, until then, get others involved in Milgram. We need to think about 'sin'... Various thoughts and sensibilities are necessary. You understand, right? ... And there are those on Twitter who dare to call me a rabbit. I remember your profile pictures..."

This is written in the character of Jackalope and we see Futa using Twitter in Bring It On. So, this is just canon. It's not big news or anything. It's just funny to note.

This is also something that differentiates it from Caligula Effect as the main social network used in that is called Gossiper.

We also know that the timelines have been compared to tweeting.

May 25, 2020 Jackalope Announcement

"Starting today, we'll synchronize the voices within Milgram to your devices. In simpler terms, it means the prisoners will start tweeting on the timeline too. Just so you know, your comments won't be visible or audible to them. Think of it as one-sided eavesdropping. Well, that means you can say whatever you like without any worries. Remember, the only way you can interact with them is through Es. That's the fundamental rule of Milgram. You'll understand more about this eventually. Don't worry, I'm here, watching all of you."

Comments on the app won't be heard by the prisoners because the only way the audience can communicate with them is through Es. This means nothing said on the app can be heard by the prisoners. Information posted elsewhere like on Twitter or YouTube can be heard but to what extent is unknown.

The implication from these statements is that Jackalope oversees the Twitter. Because he bluntly implies such multiple times and even compares the timeline to the characters tweeting. There's yet to be an implication that Es hears what the audience is saying through Twitter. However it has been implied that the theories are being filtered to Es through other means.

This makes it seem as though all of the information sent to the Milgram platforms is being filtered for Es. Since Jackalope says the prisoners can't hear us here but not that Es can't. So, anything pertaining to the prisoner's crimes/the audience's speculations regarding the prisoner's sins may be sent to Es to overlook and consider while the things not pertaining to that are ignored. Just like with how the Prisoner Interrogation Questions are filtered and chosen by management.

Note that I said "prisoner's sins" there with the intent of referring to sins generally. That is because things outside of the prisoners murders can be considered sins by the wider audience. For example how the audience considered lying or getting a divorce Kazui's sin or how the audience interpreted Yuno's sin as abortion even though many people rightfully wouldn't conflate abortion with murder.

These sins were in fact filtered to Es who stated that they had the impression that abortion could be Yuno's crime because the audience told them it could. Same with the idea that Kazui's crime was sexual in nature as again the audience told Es that Kazui's crime was related to sexuality. How they chose to interpret those things only speaks to Es as a character.

However, the prisoners will only know what Es themselves communicates with them when it comes to the audiences personal feelings regarding them.

This is something highlighted by the fact that Yuno says this in her second voice drama,

Hm…well then, should I tell you what I heard the voices saying in my head?

"Because she's pitiable.” “There's no mistake that she has some kind of reason." "She might have become like this because she had some kind of hardship in her past." "She's become like this because there's some problem in her home life—because she doesn't know love yet!"

"Because of that…I'll forgive her."

Everything that Yuno stated to overhear that Es admits to thinking about has to do with why people found her innocent.

That she's heard others debating her sin but not all the other things said about her. So the prisoners could just be hearing the statements on the crimes that have been filtered through to Es and that Es has taken into consideration. Yet, mundane things won't be considered. Unless it's related to why we voted them a certain way it won't be brought to their attention.

This is probably why Jackalope highlights it's fine to vote based on any reasoning. Although the only way that prisoners hear the voices of the audience may predominantly be through YouTube comments.

Yamanka also stated this in a translated interview,

"I came up with the idea for "MILGRAM -ミルグラム-" during a meal with DECO*27. I didn't want the suggestion to be perceived as just a polite social gesture, so I proposed the idea on the spot. Originally, I had thought of turning it into a game, but after seeing the music video for "Otome Kaibou," I was inspired to develop something that was synced with music. I found this idea more modern and interesting. The comment section of Vocaloid songs often features various people offering their interpretations and analyses of the music video. However, there's usually no way to confirm whether these interpretations are correct or not. So, I came up with the idea of providing an answer and turning it into a complete story."

So we can at least pin down that the world has similar social media platforms to the one that we reside in ourselves. That Milgram has been operating for a good while given the content from the novels. As well as that the Milgram web-series that we are engaging in tends to focus more intently on YouTube comments.

Which can explain why certain aspects of Milgram were highlighted in the first end of trial notice and in following voice dramas while other things were not.

Back to the age. This doesn't really tell us that Kazui isn't aging because he celebrated his own birthday too. So he would know his own age he just sort of lied here and Mikoto doesn't know enough about him to even tell that this is a lie. He can't really correct him or maybe he just doesn't want to. However, I doubt many people within Milgram have given the others their specific age. He could say whatever number he wants none of them would know.

We were given his age information and it's not like Es told everyone all of the other prisoners ages. So, it's just weird he said this. Because then we would have to believe Kazui who has been present for all of his birthday's since Milgram started simply can't count. It's not even that far up to count and trust me I have dyscalculia and dyslexia. I had to check his age before posting about his birthday yesterday multiple times. I still don't trust it said thirty nine and I have the page up right now.

But it says that. I don't know why he would still present himself as not being forty yet but I don't really care either. It's not the biggest lie to tell. Maybe he's embarrassed about the immense age gap between him and everyone else here. I don't know all I know is he celebrated his birthday and gave his proper age when he was interrogated first trial.

"Once again I'm Mukuhara Kazui, age thirty-nine. Nice to meet you, Warden-Kun."

Like hell I wanted to say this was because they weren't aging too. That could be fun yet that's not how him reporting his age works. Vampires can lie and say their eighteen but they still know how many years they've been alive.

This and that simply don't have that much to do with each other. This just randomly confirmed prisoners can lie about their ages and that we simply don't know how long he's been almost forty. Which is actually scarier to me. Since he came in here saying he was thrity-nine and is still presenting it as though he is despite the very clear passage of time that he was fucking involved in for four years. Right in front of all of us and everyone in that jail!

Like I don't know what to say to that it was such a casual lie. So, harmless actually. Just a blink and you'll miss it type thing. It's either that simple or for some reason he knows that their bodies aren't aging which again wouldn't change how time is mentally perceived regardless.

So even in that niche situation he'd still be fucking lying because we saw him celebrate all those birthdays and we know he can count. He knows how old he is why did he say this?!

Like bro- What?

Other than that Kazui gets to join the still a child mentally club!

23/08/05 Maristelina translation

Kazui: Hmm... well, that's fine. If that's easier for you, I won't force you. But you know, people in their 20s are still kids. It's admirable that you're hard on yourself, but I think it's okay to cause a bit of trouble for others.  After all, I'm nearly 40 and I'm still a kid at heart.

20/06/18 Rochi's translation

Kotoko: Treat you like a child? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding. Back when I was your age, I was already the person I am today. I don’t have any plans to let you get away with something just “because you’re a child.” ……remember that.

20/07/11 Rochi's translation

Shidou: ……I’m not really like that. ……that’s just what it is to be an adult. When I think back…… I don’t think much about me has changed since I was around your age. Getting older…… it doesn’t mean something drastic is going to change about you.

Alright this took literally all day I'm going to eat now.

[respectthepetty]

Club Friday Episode 3

I'm watching Club Friday The Series: Moments & Memories, so you don't have to.

It's based on a true story, it's only four episodes so we are already halfway done, all the characters are queer, and IT'S MESSY!

Last week, we left off with Rey proposing to Nart which was bonkers and EVERYTHING was blue because this is about to get depressing.

I've got my wine, and I'm ready for round three of Exes and Oh-Hell-No's.

Why is there an MC for their wedding vows?! Girl, shut up! Having a countdown for a kiss like you're announcing the coming of the New Year fells crusty. No, chick. NO!

Y'all are so stupid for inviting the exes. It's as if you wanted them to stop the wedding with their toxicity. Pun stood in the middle of that aisle FOREVER instead of sitting her ass down, and Pol is standing behind a tree, in white, just smiling away. Y'all welcomed the drama!

NART YOU WERE ALREADY FUCKING POL ON YOUR WEDDING DAY AT THE VENUE IN THE BATHROOM?! I didn't think I'd write this but Rey deserves better than all of these people and if everyone dies except her and her kid, then let it be!

The blues. I'm obsessed.

This boss, Jess, is gonna cause problems. I feel it! But Nart came for him directly. DAMN! If only he could be this direct with Pol instead of fucking him behind his wife's back!

NO, GOD, NO! I need more wine! This is not the way, lady. IT'S NOT THE WAY!

There is not one line that Pol has uttered that I have not loved. He sent Nart a picture of his thighs and Nart came running, so let's not play games here, Nart. Pol owns you, and you like it.

THIS FUCKING CUNT! I love him so much.

This dinner is more awkward than a 2015 and 2016 Thanksgiving meal in America combined. Those were some rough years for family gatherings in the United States, but this shit is worst.

"It's hard to be the middleman" - Then maybe you shouldn't have FUCKED YOUR TOXIC CHEATING EX ON YOUR WEDDING DAY, SIR!

As usual, Rey and Nart invited the drama in just like their wedding day, but unlike Rey who hasn't been in contact with Pun, Nart can't seem to end this even while he is looking at Rey like she will tell him not to go. Nart, make a decision for yourself! WEAK!

Rey where is your hand going?! You can't be crying and thinking about your husband with that slut while you do this. NOT UNDER THESE CONDITIONS, MAMI! NOOOOOOOO!

This show is going to break me in only four episodes. I will forever be changed in the worst way when this is all done. And next week is the last episode, so it will be a fucking disaster.

Jess is going to assault Rey because he is upset that she is the only woman to ever turn him down

Rey is going to smash a bottle over his head and threaten both him and Pol

Rey is going to crawl back to her toxic ex because the woman REFUSES to be single for more than a second

and Nart is going to die or at least he should because the body count has got to go up if Rey ends up with a kid

I AM SO EXCITED!

[riverblujay]

You just reblogged my FHSY post with some EXCELLENT tags and I wanted to say you're so right the pair the spare stuff was bizarre. I ended up liking where Sandra Lynn and Jawbone went in SY but at the end of FY it's so weird. Also I'm following you now because you're a self proclaimed Murph girlie and SPMGs like us need to stick together

(aforementioned tags)

ty bestie!!

truly TRULY the worst part of FY for me. like, i super get that they were trying to wrap stuff up after having a super intense combat, so i also don't, like, hold it against d20 that much?? and maybe it would be even less tasteful to me if we didn't have icon and aroace ally murph (and brennan ig but murph like. INITIATED this plot line) giving us Allo/Amatonormativity Personified as baron.

fwiw, im not 100% romance repulsed either. and i GET that teen romance is part of the genre they're trying to convey in fh!! i just think maybe it should have been limited to the teens, at the very least in FY. it's SO awkward and personally i think reads as "brennan had some (head)canons abt who got together with who, eventually, but it's the last episode so there's no time to seed that in a graceful way if he wants his two cents out there." which is his right to have ideas for who among the adults get together, but like--the entire focus of the whole season was the bad kids, not their parents. so it feels weird when your thoughts abt who ends up dating, even if there is SO MUCH context and build up in brennan's head, are presented as a loose thread being tied up in a bow.

ignoring my complicated and by no means exhaustive feelings/rambling on the topic, if you have not listened to naddpod yet i cannot recommend it enough!!!! yes im a murph girlie and i LOVE his dm style (recently saw a comment on a post saying naddpod has less patrons than wbn bc "brennan is a better dm" and it made me FERAL. i get it i shouldn't have read the comments in the first place, and also you (the commenter) hate consequences and dope encounters. literally no one can say a DROP of MURPH SLANDER unless they have listened to eldermourne finale AND c3e27 the king of dragons. combat and encounter design dm of all time FR!!!!)

but i just love how despite naddpods tight editing, you can tell just how much murph, emily, caldwell, and jake care abt each other both as people and as their pcs. emily has literally said the way jake INSTANTLY decided that hardwon loved the crick made her feel always welcome at a table with him. how much the cast makes each other laugh, or cry, or feel any kind of emotion.

ALSO moonshine is SO aroallo coded to me. axmurph aspec allies fr fr. naddpod dnd podcast of all time in my heart <3

[bungacow]

BungaCow: Tales of an Unremarkable Teenaged Girl

Hello! Welcome to my self-indulgent and unremarkable blog. Unremarkable is a great word, a great adjective. I can think of a lot of great unremarkable things. Such as a stick on the side of the road or a spec of dust on a bookshelf. These things are plain, average, and to be expected. Much like myself. A middle-class, suburban teenager with little to no interesting qualities about her. The perfect kind of person to share her every waking thought to the masses.

I don't say all of this to be self-deprecating. I don't mind being average at all. I would say the world needs more average people but I think what I really mean is the world needs more people to realize that they're average. There are too many average people distancing themselves from the people they see as average and I think that's wrong. The world needs to listen more to the typical average person. Like, what is happening with Taylor Swift? When is the next season of Love Island coming out? These aren't things I personally care about but who's to say that these things aren't important? Importance is a construct anyway. What even is important? Love? Peace? Skate 3?

What I'm getting at here is that you shouldn't dismiss someone's ideas and interests because you assume they won't be worth your time. I promise you, you are more average than you realize. You are no better than that Swiftie with a Stanley Cup you saw on your TikTok FYP crying about how a Taylor Swift lyric changed her life. Maybe instead of assuming she's overreacting, listen to the song and read the lyrics. She might have a point.

Now, you may be thinking to yourself "What the hell is she talking about right now? Where is she going with this?" and I will tell you. Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. Isn't that beautiful? I can just open a new post and say whatever I want for as long as I want to and you're reading it right now.

I wanted to make a blog just to be able to do this very thing. Yap. Talk about the kind of things I think when I'm biking to work. The kind of things I have no one in my personal life to talk to about. Because unremarkable people like me have unremarkable thoughts that deserve to see the light of day and I encourage all of my average brothers, sisters, and siblings to do the same. If you do nothing else today, share a thought that you've been keeping to yourself for fear of being boring with someone.

Anya out. xx

[novelconcepts]

fic: unexpected

a fill for @karatam’s prompt : “Five things Dani realizes she likes in bed (and one thing Jamie realizes she likes about being with Dani).”

It comes as little surprise to Dani Clayton, who has spent most of her life trying not to pay attention to the things her body craves, that time with Jamie has been unlocking some unexpected doors. It’s embarrassing, sometimes, but not in a way that feels too heavy to bear; the more time she spends with Jamie, the more time she spends feeling progressively better in her own skin, the more she’s bound to understand about what makes her tick. It’s kind of nice, actually. Kind of refreshing, finding situations where she doesn’t feel inclined to hold herself rigid, where she can let her guard down and just exhale. 

Still, there are some experiences which--until they sneak up on her--she absolutely does not see coming.

1

There is a rule in their house about cleanliness. Not because Jamie is a terrible mess, by any stretch of the imagination, but because a small space gets out of control fast. Especially given how much time Jamie spends with both hands buried in potting soil, Dani feels it’s important to set some ground rules. Things like “shoes stay on the plastic tray if you’ve been out gardening.” Things like “clothes caked in dirt go straight into the special hamper to get washed first.”

Things like “if you’re going to initiate anything requiring hands on bare skin, you scrub up first.”

Jamie takes it in stride, agrees wholeheartedly that this is the only safe and hygienic approach to life. She kicks off her boots, drops any mud-encrusted flannel in the proper receptacle, and works the grime out from under short nails without pressure. 

“I’d do this without the rule,” she tells Dani the first time after this conversation, eyebrows arched. “How filthy d’you think I am, anyway?”

Dani chooses not to dignify this with a response. It’s still early-days, all things considered, and Jamie poking her tongue through her teeth on a word like filthy sends her brain places that aren’t conducive to getting anything done.

Still, there are things that test her carefully-imposed boundaries. Not so much the gardening; gardening and Jamie are a singular entity, a packaged deal Dani was wholly aware of long before falling into the woman’s bed. She sees flowers and root webs and clods of dirt packed into pots and thinks, Yes. That’s Jamie. 

It’s the fixing she wasn’t prepared for.

There are things she is better at than Jamie around the house: remembering to pick up groceries, basic human chores like laundry and vacuuming and taking out the trash. And there are the things Jamie has an edge on: hot drinks, building furniture, and repairing just about anything that slips sideways. 

“Grew up without a lot to lean on,” she explains while Dani, feeling a little light-headed in a way she can’t fully explain, watches her replace a questionable light fixture. Her hands are nimble and steady, her eyes on the job at hand, but she’s smiling. “You pick up a lot of convenient tricks along the way, life like that.”

Dani, who grew up in a household marked by her mother having “a guy”--usually neighborhood men with bad facial hair who scrubbed her around the head and called her “little lady”--for just about every little hiccup, can only watch with fascination. Jamie, it seems, has a sixth sense for problems. By the end of their first year together, she’s fixed the bathroom sink, the AC unit, innumerable lightbulbs, and the vacuum cleaner. Never once batting an eye. Just a simple smile and a “give it here, then.”

Dani, for her part, tells herself she’s watching closely to learn. To pick up these convenient tricks Jamie mentions like they’re nothing. To be able to one day make similar repairs while Jamie is busy or out of the house.

She tells herself this, even as her skin grows warm and her mouth goes dry, because there is just something about watching Jamie work. Something she can’t put her finger on about the way Jamie tips her head musingly, inspecting every inch of the problem area like her attention belongs nowhere else. She moves methodically, deliberately, never frustrated, never slamming or swearing. Her hands squeeze and slide, her brow furrowed, and Dani...

Likes this. 

She keeps it to herself, careful not to distract Jamie from the task at hand, even as her own face flushes at the sight of Jamie working a screwdriver or sifting through a set of drill bits. It’s stupid, she thinks with a hot thread of embarrassment, that her legs are weakening at the mere image of Jamie on her back on the bathroom tile, knees bent, arms working to seal some hidden leak in the piping. 

“You want to try?” Jamie asks, head and shoulders in the cabinet below the sink. Dani clears her throat. 

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Jamie says absently, the muscles of her stomach flexing as she arches for that little extra strength to finish up. Dani leans her forehead against the wall, struggling to find some measure of calm before Jamie can extricate herself and catch sight of the look on her face. 

She manages to keep it quiet for months, this strange heat that springs up whenever Jamie’s hands are greasy and her face has that serious cast of inspecting a complicated problem. She might have kept it quiet for months longer--indefinitely, perhaps--if not for Colorado. 

Colorado is, like so many of their trips, a spur-of-the-moment decision. They rent a battered Jeep from a questionable agency, intent on seeing the Rockies as man was always intended: hopped up on a decent amount of bad gas station coffee, a pack of cigarettes, and each other. It’s a good day, cheery sun beaming down from a sky scattered with soft clouds. Dani has been having more and more of these kinds of days, and is starting to think maybe this is the new normal. Less fear. Less tension. Just her hand in Jamie’s as they bump over an endless road in the middle of--

“No,” Jamie says in a low, frustrated tone. Dani, who has been gazing distantly out the passenger window, snaps back to reality. 

“What’s going on?”

The Jeep is slowing. Jamie steers it toward the side of the road, which is to Dani’s eyes the most abandoned place on earth. 

“Something’s off,” Jamie groans. “Engine light came on.”

Engine light came on is one of those phrases Dani intellectually understands is in English, but it might as well not be. She’s grateful for how much Jamie enjoys driving; cars are something of a mystery to her, loud, rattling machines she’d prefer not to ever deal with on her own. 

She steps out onto the road now, arms hugged tight around her body, and watches Jamie pop the hood. The day is as warm as it is beautiful, and it isn’t long before sweat is trickling down the back of her neck. Jamie, in jeans and a flannel shirt, rolls the sleeves up past her elbows and grimaces. 

“Gonna be a minute, I think. But maybe...”

She’s muttering words Dani wouldn’t understand even if she thought Jamie was speaking to her and not a busted set of gears and pistons. Jamie, thankfully, seems to know what she’s talking about as she pushes the hair out of her eyes, ties a bandana around her head, and sets to work. 

She’ll fix it, Dani assures herself, rocking back and forth on her heels in the sunshine. Jamie fixes everything. 

And, in the meantime, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the view. The horizon is endless, the land green and gorgeous and sprawling out as far as she can process. Dani could stand here for hours, head tilted back to take it all in, letting the clean air bathe her face. 

She could also, she notes, eyes sliding back to Jamie, watch this for hours. Jamie, up on her toes, an emergency set of tools open on the ground. Jamie, sweat beading on her upper lip and trickling down her temples. Jamie, pink-cheeked, the muscles of her forearms from years of groundswork standing out in sharp relief as she jams a wrench beneath the hood and twists.

It is...very hot out here, Dani thinks dazedly. She snaps her eyes away, searching the sky for birds, searching the world for anything that could be more interesting than the sight of Jamie with grease halfway up to her elbows, a dip of skin tantalizing between her shirt riding up and the waistband of her jeans. 

Dani swallows hard. Tries to remember that they are, in fact, currently stranded on the side of a road in Colorado. Tries to remember that they are, in fact, not in a situation that should be excruciatingly appealing. 

Jamie makes a low noise in her chest, pulling hard on the wrench. Something in Dani, already strung tight enough to make her pulse race, seems to snap. 

“Hey,” Jamie protests as the tool drops from her hand and clatters against the pavement. Dani has her around the wrist, dragging her with firm intent away from the open hood. “Hey, Poppins, I don’t think--”

Dani, unable to stop herself, catches her around the back of the neck and kisses her hard. Jamie’s protests go slack against her lips, her hands windmilling uselessly as she tries and fails to locate somewhere safe to place them. 

“I--Dani, what--”

“Can’t explain,” Dani says, muffled, mouth a bit occupied with trying to kiss Jamie stupid. “Just. Need this.”

“Right now?” Jamie asks, plainly bewildered--though, Dani notes, not exactly arguing. Her hands rest gently on Dani’s hips, as though the desire to hang on and the desire not to ruin Dani’s skirt are locked in fervent battle. 

“Right,” Dani groans, licking at the sweat running down the side of Jamie’s neck, “now.”

She fumbles them toward the backseat, pausing every couple of steps to push Jamie hard against the car. There’s something about it--something about the sun beating down, and her hand caught between the hard shell of the Jeep and the soft skin at Jamie’s back, and the way Jamie is making surprised breathy sounds against her ear. Something, most of all, about Jamie trying so hard not to get her dirty while being utterly unable to keep her hands to herself. 

“There’s a rule,” Jamie says, like she’s reciting a play she couldn’t possibly care less about. “Your rule.”

Dani, pulling the back door open and sliding along the gray leather, shakes her head. “House rule. Don't care.”

Jamie’s laughing, but there's something nervous about it, something like she sort of expects to get into trouble for this. “Poppins, you are...something else today.”

Dani pauses, leaning back on her elbows, watching with dark desire as Jamie climbs in after her. The door latches with a soft click, Jamie hovering on her knees over her in the small space. 

“Something okay?” Dani asks, her voice smaller than intended. Jamie grins. 

“I’m okay if you’re okay.”

Dani grabs for her again, unable to pin down the roaring pleasure in her chest as Jamie’s smile lands against her skin. Her hands are wild, roaming creatures with their own agenda, sliding under Jamie’s collar, fisting around Jamie’s shirt. When Jamie kisses the hollow of her throat, she sighs, arches, liking the weight of Jamie between her bent knees. 

There is a rule about dirty hands, it’s true, and they both know it’s for a reason--which is why, eyes on Dani’s face the whole time, Jamie grasps her by the hips and lifts, shifts, eases Dani until her back is pressed against the window. Jamie hooks her fingers into the waistband of underwear already too ruined to be of use, sliding them down Dani’s thighs, shoving them restlessly into the back pocket of her own jeans. 

“Jesus,” she breathes against Dani’s skin, already soaked through with sweat and want. “This much from--”

“Watching,” Dani groans confirmation. One hand is gripping the back of the seat, her knuckles stark against the dark leather. Jamie makes a noise she thinks might be amusement, or utter helpless desire--maybe some mad combination of the two. 

“Didn’t know you had a thing for--”

“Jamie,” Dani interrupts, a sharp plea that snaps Jamie’s attention back where it belongs. They can talk about this later, Jamie teasing her for an unexpected mechanic kink, Dani hiding her face and laughing. Right now, she can focus on nothing but Jamie’s hands, creased with engine oil, gripping her thighs. Sliding smooth down to bracket her kneecaps, up to hold her hips steady. Jamie, mouthing at her slowly, trying to make it last, teasing her with soft flicks of her tongue and warm, soft kisses. 

“Jamie,” Dani repeats, her voice cracking, her free hand winding in Jamie’s hair and pulling. Jamie concedes, head bobbing gently between her legs, body coiled in a position that will probably feel fantastic tomorrow--but, if she cares, she certainly doesn’t show it. Her fingers dig into Dani’s skin, leaving dark stains behind, her mouth drawing Dani tighter by the second. 

Sex with Jamie has never been what Dani would call boring, but something about the sight of her here--eyes closed, breathing hard, fingers pushing Dani’s skirt up as she strains to keep from putting those hands directly between Dani’s legs--has an effect they’ve never quite managed before. Dani, biting hard into the back of her own hand as her hips jerk out of control. Jamie, making the most of the moment, kissing her clean with long, sweet strokes. 

“Jesus,” Jamie says again, sitting up and staring at her. “If I’d known--”

“You’d never have finished a repair around the house,” Dani points out, breathing hard, head lolling back against the glass with a light thump. 

“You’ve been feeling this at the house?” Jamie looks stunned. “Poppins, you’ve been wanting this for months, and you’ve just been letting me fix things instead of taking you to bed? Where the hell are your priorities?”

“Didn’t want to distract you,” Dani mumbles, the drowsy delight of a good orgasm wrapping comforting hands around her good sense. Jamie’s jaw hangs open.

“Poppins.”

“Mm?”

“Distract me. For the love of god. Distract me.”

2

Dani doesn’t go back to teaching. It’s not that she doesn’t love it, not that she doesn’t know she’d still be good at it; it’s more that the world is too unpredictable now. That she is too unpredictable now, unable to tell what tomorrow will look like inside her own head. She’s been feeling better, admittedly--Jamie has a way of making the ground stand still under their feet, of leading her by the hand into warmly-lit places where she feels less like there’s something following at her heels--but it’s not the same. Even before the Lady, before Bly, before fleeing to Europe in the first place, teaching had been heavier than school had prepared her for. So many kids, with so many expectations, so many needs one person couldn’t possibly fulfill. 

So, no--she doesn’t go back to teaching. Teaching feels like the old Dani in some terribly sad way she can’t define. The new Dani turns her attention toward a different kind of cultivation, toward learning how to make people happy with the art of living things. It’s a creative outlet she hadn’t realized she needs. It brings her closer to Jamie, gives her a better understanding of Jamie’s way of seeing the world. It’s different, but she does love it. 

It does not, for all of that, erase old habits. 

She doesn’t really realize she’s doing it, at first. Some things are just so naturally ingrained, so much a part of her daily experience, that she doesn’t think about what she’s saying. 

Until Jamie just stops and...looks at her. 

“What?” Self-consciousness, not a particularly new song, hums under the word. Jamie is gazing at her with head slightly cocked, lip between her teeth. 

“Nothing. Nothing, just...”

Dani reels back the last five minutes, searching for whatever might have put this truly unfamiliar look on Jamie’s face. It’s not teasing, exactly; not bothered, either. It’s...pleased?

Jamie had just passed her with a basket under her arm, laundry rescued from the dryer and folded before Dani had even realized they were ready. She had turned, watched Jamie amble by with a spring in her step that said I have done the thing, and the thing is good, and she had said...

“Oh.” She can actually feel the color draining from her face. “I just, uh. I mean. Habit.”

Jamie grins, still looking a little surprised, but not exactly upset. “No, no, it’s fine, Poppins. Got no argument with being a good girl now and then.”

She winks, throwing an exaggerated little swing into her walk as she makes off toward the bedroom, and Dani sags against the couch. Has she done this before? Has she been absently calling Jamie a good girl upon the completion of  little tasks this whole time, and only just realized?

It is a very particular kind of embarrassing, and Dani does not have the first idea what to do with it. 

“Have I been doing that?” she asks over dinner, picking awkwardly at her pasta and studiously not looking Jamie in the eye. Jamie, midway through pouring a glass of wine, pauses. 

“Doing what?”

“Calling--uh--I mean--”

“Praising me for my efforts about the house?” Jamie is too pleased about this, Dani has decided. Entirely too pleased for her own good. 

“Hey, I can take it back,” she mutters. Jamie snorts, setting a full glass beside Dani’s place and kissing the top of her head. 

“Uh uh. I’ve earned my gold stars, Poppins. Pry ‘em from my cold dead hands.”

Dani downs half the glass in a single swallow, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. Jamie is really laughing now, the full-body laugh she reserves for poking fun at Dani with absolute affection. 

“Oh, don't be like that. It’s sweet. Can’t say anyone’s had nice words of the like for me much before you.”

Dani looks up to find Jamie leaning across the table, her expression heartbreakingly earnest. The tension melts slowly out of her body; she realizes she’s made a fist under the table, her thumb tucked into her fingers. Old habits, indeed. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about things like that,” Jamie says, her voice softening. Her hand slides under the table to close over Dani’s flexing fingers, like she knows what Dani was just doing, that Dani was just sliding back to anxieties she’s long tried to bury. “I take no offense at being called good at anything where you’re concerned, Dani. Trust me.”

She does, very much, but even so, she tries to keep a handle on it. Isn’t it condescending, she wonders, speaking to Jamie that way? Why on earth would Jamie appreciate a pat on the head, a gentle assertion of good work?

She gets it under control. Reminds herself she is not a teacher anymore, and Jamie is very appropriately an adult who doesn’t need to be confirmed in her choices at every turn. 

She gets it under control--until one night. One night, spent celebrating an exceptional year at the shop, with too much wine in her system and too many hours spent in a too-public setting to be allowed to touch Jamie properly. They’d sat at a table with a few well-meaning shopkeepers from down the street, and they’d laughed, and drank to hard work and good fortune, and all the while, she’d been watching Jamie out of the corner of her eye. Jamie, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair mussed from hands Dani understood as wanting to be on her body, sifting through her hair. Jamie, chain-smoking cigarettes Dani ached to take from her and place between her own lips, if only to taste Jamie. 

By the time they make it home, her hands are tingling, her body desperate. Jamie, watching her with the smug smile of a woman who knows Dani’s hand has been flexing between her own knees for two hours, makes a show of stretching. Her shirt pulls up from her belt, flashing a glimpse of stomach. 

“Bit tired,” she says. “What do you think, time for bed?”

Dani makes a powerfully undignified noise, and Jamie’s laughter rings bright in the otherwise-silent apartment. She catches Dani by the hand, eyes shining. 

“Honestly, Poppins, you are too damn easy.”

They fall into bed--into couch, really, the bed being far too many steps away--and the world shrinks to the polished buttons of Jamie’s shirt popping open under her tripping fingers, the material of Jamie’s slacks shoved awkwardly down her legs, the trace of Jamie’s tongue around her earlobe as she tries desperately to focus on intricate details like zippers. Jamie, bless and damn her, never seems this clumsy, even with all the wine in the world in her blood. 

“I like it,” Jamie breathes, grinning. “You only get clumsy when you’re desperate.”

She climbs over Dani, curling behind her to better get at the zip on her dress. Dani leans back, dizzy with the rush of Jamie pressed against her back, grinding her hips slowly as if to intentionally drive Dani up the wall. The dress peels away, and Dani hears herself swear. 

“Could you go any slower.”

“Could if I tried,” Jamie murmurs, nipping at her neck. “Why? Don’t like it?”

She splays a hand beneath Dani’s breasts, pressing in tight against her back, rocking against her with little sign of picking up the pace and putting those hands where they’re most wanted. Dani groans, lets her head fall back against Jamie’s shoulder. 

��You,” she says without thinking, “are being a bad girl tonight.”

Jamie freezes. Dani, head buzzing with the aggravation of Jamie playing her little game, Jamie’s fingers toying across her belly, doesn’t hear herself. Not at first. Not until Jamie says in a voice almost like a growl, “That so?”

Oh, Dani thinks. Oh no. I did it again. 

“Tell me, please,” Jamie goes on, hand slinking lower, “how I can get back into your good graces.”

It should be weird. It should be so uncomfortable, slamming the brakes on this whole evening--but Jamie’s hand is on a mission, Jamie’s hips rocking against her faster, and Dani finds she doesn’t care nearly as much as she should. 

“You--know--”

“Tell me anyway.” Jamie’s hand is circling, refusing to continue its descent, and Dani almost wants to laugh. This is insane. This is insane, and stupid, and if she doesn’t get Jamie to keep going, she might just kill her. 

She turns her head, finds Jamie looking at her with pupils blown and lips parted. She reaches back, grabs Jamie by the jaw. 

“Touch me,” she says, her voice firmer than it’s been in a long time. “Now.”

Jamie’s eyes roll back in her head, her fingers dipping between Dani’s legs with obedient speed. Dani sighs, moving to meet her strokes. 

“More,” she hears herself say in that same commanding voice, and Jamie shudders. “Harder.”

She’s never done this before; it’s never crossed her mind to tell Jamie what to do, how to touch her, what she needs. Jamie is intuitive, naturally taking the lead on nights like these, and she’s damn good at it--but this feels incredible in an entirely new way. Her hand slides down to join Jamie’s, curling around Jamie’s fingers as they slide in and out in a series of increasingly rough thrusts. She finds herself arching back, Jamie’s hips bucking as she strains for friction of her own, and when Jamie curls her fingers deep, she curls with her. 

“Fuck,” Jamie groans, shifting her hand out from between Dani’s legs and replacing it instantly between her own. Dani rolls, pushing her flat against the cushions, grabbing hold of Jamie’s wrist and stilling her fingers. 

“That,” she breathes, lips brushing Jamie’s softly enough to burn, “was very good work. Gold star.”

Jamie whimpers, letting her hand drop away so Dani can return the favor. It doesn’t take long at all; Jamie’s pretty far gone even before Dani brushes against her with a hand that no longer feels clumsy. 

“That,” Jamie says when they’ve collapsed in a sweat-slick mess of limbs, “was new. Teacher voice always just sort of on tap, huh?”

Dani resists the suddenly-overwhelming urge to hide her face. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Don’t much care,” Jamie says, rather happily. “It works for me, as it turns out. I am gonna line these gold stars up on the fridge.”

3

There is something engrossing about being wanted, something Dani never really understood before Jamie. Being wanted before wasn’t exactly a positive sensation; men looking her up and down in malls and bars, eyes like brands on her skin, made her feel like crawling under a table. Women, on the rare occasion she crossed one who met her eyes, were somehow even worse--their smiles were thin, brittle reminders that Dani wasn’t Normal. That, if she ever were to jump from that ledge, these women wouldn’t be there to catch her. Their want was an ice bath, a horrible reminder that there was something wrong with her ability to be wanted. 

And, with Edmund, it was worst of all, because she wanted to want it. Wanted to want the way his eyes started following her out of rooms before they were even in their teens. Wanted to want the way his hands would reach for her as they grew older, as his body began sending signals that she was right, and hers developed an alarm bell that only ever screamed stop, please, go away. 

She should have listened to that alarm bell sooner, probably, but Edmund--for all the horrible suffocating sense of him draped over her life--was also a shield against the rest. With Edmund’s arm around her, she felt caged, but strange men let their eyes slide off her like rain. With Edmund kissing her cheek, she felt wrong, but strange men stopped trying to brush up against her skin. 

The line, however, she had to draw somewhere, and she drew it at marks. Eddie accepted her unwillingness to climb into his bed as classic “good girl” behavior; Danielle, he thought with ease of understanding, wanted to wait until they were married. Sure, fine, good. His mother would approve, and hers would leave them both un-defenestrated by their wedding day. Perfect for everyone.

Still, he wanted to touch her. Wanted to press his lips to her skin. Wanted to make sure she--and anyone else who chanced a look--knew he was always there, etched into her. 

She hated it. Hated the way he’d lean back after leaving a hickey hot on her neck, looking faux-apologetic and more than a little smug. Hated the way, no matter how many times she told him it wasn’t professional for an elementary school teacher to stroll in with love bites, he always seemed to “forget.”

She hated being marked. 

With Edmund.

With Jamie, it’s an entirely different story. 

“Shit,” Jamie sighs. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Dani, shirt slung over the back of a kitchen chair, shifts in Jamie’s lap. There’s something about being able to do this at their own leisure, about Sunday brunch fading into charred bacon and lost-chance waffles as she and Jamie sink into long slow kisses on the other side of the kitchen, that she thinks she’ll never be over. 

Jamie, looking more than a little irritated with herself, is now brushing soft fingertips across Dani’s collarbone. Even that much sends sharp little thrills up her spine. She tips her chin down, tries to see the spot Jamie is pressing against. 

“Left a mark?”

“Yeah.” Jamie sighs again. “Sorry, Poppins, I don’t know my own goddamn--”

Dani laughs. She really doesn’t, is the thing. Jamie, who couldn’t be more unlike Eddie if she tried, genuinely doesn’t ever mean to mark her skin. And it’s not like it happens often. She’s normally pretty good about self-control in ways Dani suspects have to do with a history of punishment and consequence following every action. 

Jamie is grounded. Jamie is restrained. 

Except when Jamie isn’t. And, lately, Jamie has been restrained with her less and less. 

It started the day she told Dani she was in love with her. A thing Jamie had been saying without words for a long time, Dani knew, but it was so good to hear the phrase fall from her lips anyway. So reassuring, to see the nerves in Jamie’s face, the way Jamie’s eyes shone with a desperate need to make Dani understand. 

That day, in the back room of the shop, Jamie had marked her for the first time. Heat still pools in her belly when she thinks of it, even now: how Jamie had shoved her up against the door, hands fevered, mouth a hot wet slide against her throat. Jamie’s touch had felt good; Jamie’s devotion, even better. And something about the sum of it--of being in the shop, where precautions had been taken, but they were still rather public, of Jamie’s nerves still holding the reins, of Jamie’s words still fluttering between them: pretty in love with you, it turns out--had both of them nearly high. By the time they broke apart, giggling and heaving for air, the deed was done. A single red mark, low on Dani’s neck, burning bright for anyone to see.

Jamie had touched it lightly, kissed it gently, face flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean--”

And, somehow, that had been the thing to do it. The thing that sent Dani’s arousal over the edge. Not just Jamie leaving the mark on her skin, but the apology in Jamie’s eyes as she realized. Jamie, never intending to force ownership. Jamie, never striving to show the world she owned Dani’s body. 

Every time since, she’s tried to explain it to Jamie, tried to bring clarity of word to the hot pulse of pleasure she feels. How there’s a wild delight to watching Jamie want her. How Jamie is, as the time passes, getting worse at pretending to be cool about it. 

It isn’t kind, exactly. Isn’t the nice, sweet, orderly thing to do about it. But all the same, Dani finds she’s having trouble not coaxing Jamie along when it’s clear she’s starting to lose control.

She’s taken to loitering in the bathroom while Jamie showers, for example. Most days, it’s innocent; Dani will post up on the counter with a book, or a cup of tea, and they’ll just make small talk through the thin curtain. Jamie will wash quickly, with no sign of needing assistance, and Dani will hand her a towel when the water shuts off. Perfectly fine. Perfectly civil. 

But there are days--usually when the shop has been particularly stressful, when customers have been needy and shipments have been delayed--when Jamie will gesture for her to follow under the spray. Days where Jamie’s nerves are so frazzled, her control over all the tiny little details of owning a business so slim, that she’ll invite Dani to join her. These days, with Jamie loving her under hot water, with Jamie whispering her name into the steam, Dani thinks it is good to be wanted. So good, to be the small bright spot of control in the world for Jamie, who likes understanding how things work, who likes being able to set things right. With her back against the shower wall, Jamie’s mouth sucking sharp hot bites into her shoulder as her fingers stroke and rub between her legs, Dani thinks there’s nothing better than giving Jamie that measure of control. 

She notices it other times, too--usually when the world is bigger than the two of them can stand. When a snowstorm blocks off the whole street, stranding them inside, and the power goes, and it’s just the two of them moving together under a stack of blankets to make their own warmth. When it’s Jamie, fearful of how long it will take to dig them out again, leaving sharp, nervous marks on her breasts only to be dragged back up by the hair to kiss her as her fingers work Dani to orgasm. 

Or when they make the mistake of turning on the news, signs of war and violence and politicians making unacceptable calls about the bodies of their constituents, and the only way to bring Jamie back from the brink of hopelessness is to coax her into shutting it all out. Pinned against the counter with her hands braced, with Jamie biting hard and kissing soft, Dani forgets for a long stretch of matching heartbeats that anyone else exists outside their walls. 

Sometimes, the mark is gone by morning. Sometimes, Jamie ruefully kisses the spot on her throat, the underside of her jaw, her breast, and says, “You really should yank on my hair or something to stop me.” 

Dani can't quite find the words to tell her how much she likes it. How the brief flare of delicious pain, soothed so soon after by Jamie’s tongue, the pad of Jamie’s thumb, Jamie’s soft embarrassment, grounds her in the strangest way. Not because it shows the world anything--she’s good at wearing sweaters that hide the spots nicely, to keep anyone from questioning her “roommate” in the aftermath--but because it shows that Jamie doesn’t need to keep her head when Dani’s around. That, sometimes, the act of giving Jamie full control over their bed and the way their bodies come together, feels as good as the first nervous time Jamie had said she loved her. 

Jamie shows her with every act, every day, that this is love. Jamie in these moments of unrestrained passion is showing her something else. That she’s safe with Dani. That she doesn’t need to hold anything apart from Dani anymore. 

And there is something else to it, as well. Something entirely different. Something about the rare occasion she rolls Jamie onto her back, holds her wrists to the mattress, gazes into Jamie’s eyes in search of permission. Jamie likes to give, in all ways that matter, but sometimes, Dani likes this, too: to give back more than she takes. To grant Jamie not just control, but release. 

On this kind of night, left hand pinning Jamie in place, right hand setting a brisk, rough pace between damp thighs, Dani lowers her mouth to Jamie’s throat. She kisses slow, tasting sweat and that undefined thing that is Jamie alone, and waits for Jamie to chase her hand. Waits for Jamie to writhe beneath her. Waits for the moment where the right twist, the right pressure, sends Jamie over the edge. Then, only then, does she bite down. 

Because Jamie is embarrassed by marking her, but she’s seen the way Jamie looks at the rare mark she receives in the mirror. The way the collar of her t-shirt will slip, revealing a maroon blemish on pale skin. The way Jamie’s eyes grow dark, her body leaning against the counter like she’s suddenly lost all the strength in her knees. 

She really does prefer giving Jamie control, giving Jamie the gift of building a safe space for them both to land. But every so often, it is beyond worth it, to see the look of surprised delight in Jamie’s face when she flips the script. 

4

There are things, though. Things she didn’t know, before Jamie. Things she’d never thought to glance at, before Jamie. 

“I don’t know about this,” she says. Jamie doesn’t look the least bit perturbed. 

“It’s only an idea, Poppins. Can absolutely veto it at any time.”

Dani frowns. “I don’t--I mean, what made you think--”

She’s going about this all wrong. Jamie shakes her head, some of that old shuttered guard dropping into her expression in a way Dani decidedly does not like. 

“I’ve embarrassed you,” Jamie says. “I’m sorry, Dani, I wasn’t trying to--”

“No, It’s just...won’t somebody notice?”

Two women walking into a shop like that. Two women looking around a shop like that, having conversations about what they’d like or like nothing to do with. Somebody is bound to overhear, Dani thinks. Bound to report it down the line, and what then?

They’re in San Francisco, and Dani knows that’s the main reason Jamie’s even talking about this. They’re in San Francisco, have just bought a brownie that, yes, makes her feel more inclined than usual to drop her guard. She’d thought maybe they’d partake of that brownie in the comfort of their hotel room, that she’d follow the buzzing of her body right into the bed with Jamie, and that would be their afternoon spoken for. It had seemed a good idea at the time. 

Jamie, evidently, has other ideas. 

Which is how Dani, with a bit of a body high and the grip of anxiety tight around her throat, finds herself gazing at a Californian sex shop. 

“We do not,” Jamie says, watching her carefully, “and I cannot stress this enough, Poppins, we do not have to go in.”

“There’s...stuff in there.” The brownie is certainly doing its work. Dani swallows hard, searching for words more befitting of the situation. “Toys and things.”

Jamie looks as though she's suddenly trying very hard not to laugh. She seems considerably less high thus far, less inclined to disappear into this sidewalk if only someone were to let go of her arm and allow her to lie down. 

“It’s the brave new frontier,” Jamie says, managing to keep her amusement tamped down in the face of Dani’s wide eyes. “We’re in the 90s now, Dani Clayton. The world is changing.”

“It is,” Dani repeats in a stage whisper that sounds very loud to her own ears, “a sex shop. In California.”

“Bit better stocked than one in England, I’d wager,” Jamie says through a smile that might yet dissolve into giggles. Dani squints at her, trying to stop the street from performing a gentle rotation around her. 

“Whose idea was this again?”

“The brownie,” Jamie says, “was yours, actually. Haven’t tried this, Jamie, that’s what you said. We’re on an adventure, Jamie. I thought a nice spot of grass would do the trick fine enough, but...”

Dani slaps at her shoulder, misses somehow, almost tips over. Jamie catches her around the middle, and there’s a flash--the briefest, there-and-gone flash--of that night. Of Jamie holding her up. Of watching the world spin for a very different reason. 

Life, she thinks with a stab of unease, is very short. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Jamie repeats, a bit bewildered. She adjusts her grip, helping Dani find her feet again so she can let go. California is better than most anywhere else--at least this part of California--but it still isn’t good to give the universe an open shot. 

“We can...” She can’t say it. Isn’t quite that high. “We can--”

“Explore,” Jamie supplies. “See the sights. It’s an adventure, after all.”

And it does feel adventurous. There is a bravery in Dani Clayton she never seems able to predict--the things she’s capable of, the things she even finds she enjoys, tend to come out of left field and catch her unawares. Some of these things have a tendency to work out better than others. 

(Example: kissing Jamie. Truly the best snap decision she’s ever made. Inviting a ghost into her body? Maybe not so high on the list.)

But the sun is bright, and the buzz beneath her skin feels good, and there is no sign of ghosts in California. Just a surprisingly well-lit shop with a clerk who gives them a bored nod and a tiny hand gesture that says, Go on, couldn’t care less what you do, long as you’ve got cash. Dani smiles at him, too wide, and wonders if he’s like them. If he, too, has spent a lifetime unable to show off in the world. 

There isn’t much time to think about it, not with Jamie taking her by the sleeve and guiding her through neatly arranged aisles. There are costumes here that make Dani’s skin go white-hot to imagine trying to be serious wearing. There are items designed to vibrate, items designed to bind wrists, items designed for things she really feels better off not thinking about at all. 

“What d’you think?” Jamie asks at one shelf, eyebrows raised, and Dani thinks she’s joking. Probably joking. Must be joking. 

“Have you--I mean, I’d have no idea how to--”

“You could,” Jamie says in a low voice that sends a shiver down her spine. How Jamie can do this to her without even trying, even after years together, she can’t explain. Jamie isn’t even working at it now; her hands are tucked into her pockets, her head tilted pensively as she considers the array of options laid out before them. She’s barely even looking at Dani. 

“I could,” Dani repeats weakly, “what?”

“Try it out,” Jamie explains. “If you wanted. If you were interested. But that’s not really what I’m suggesting. See...I know how they work. I’ve, uh...I mean, if you’re interested in...that.”

Her voice trails off, her eyes darting to steal a brief glance at Dani’s face, and Dani’s not entirely sure what her face is even doing. Judging by the way Jamie licks her lips, she suspects it isn’t subtle. 

“Interested,” she says in a very small voice, gripping Jamie’s hand with convulsive force. “Yeah. Little bit.”

They don’t try it out in the hotel room; that is, Dani says once the brownie has worn off some, entirely too bold, even for an adventure. They make absolutely certain the package is tucked away in the bottom of the suitcase, as far as possible from prying eyes that never come to call. They don’t even talk about it again until they’re safely home. 

Dani’s suddenly so nervous, it’s like the first time. Like stumbling up to her room with Jamie pressed close behind, every touch the kind of electric she’d thought might take her out before she had a chance to get Jamie’s clothes off. She walks into their apartment, this place they’ve called home for almost four years, and she thinks, I have never been terrified here before. 

Jamie, seeming to sense her mood, sets the bag by the door and pulls her into an embrace. She kisses the side of her head. “Hey. We don’t have to. Can just put it in the closet for a rainy day.”

Dani senses the truth of this statement, that Jamie is perfectly fine pretending they never bought the thing at all. That Jamie would be perfectly fine sliding into bed with her like always, relying on skilled hands and searching tongue, loving Dani with everything she’s got as she has for years. Jamie would be okay with this. Jamie would never push. 

But life is short, and sometimes, a person can surprise herself. 

Jamie switches the lights off. Jamie almost never switches the lights off, not since the first time she ever told Dani she was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen. Still, Dani is relieved. There is something reassuring about Jamie’s willingness to take her hands in the dark, about Jamie’s eagerness to please her binding tight to Jamie’s devotion to keeping her safe. 

“Slow,” she promises Dani, sliding into bed and cradling her face. She is still just Jamie, Dani recognizes, though anxiety is playing tricks on her heart rate. Just Jamie’s hands, soft on her cheeks, brushing her hair back. Just Jamie’s mouth, raining small, light kisses across her face. Waiting for her to decide how far this goes. 

And Dani would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous--if she said the brush of cloth harness around Jamie’s hips and the silicon between her legs wasn’t a surprise, even knowing what to expect. She would be lying, too, if she said it wasn’t a thrill. That Jamie is just laying alongside her in familiar sheets, thumb drawing soft arcs across her cheekbone, down the line of her jaw, tipping her head back so Jamie can kiss her neck. That Jamie is touching her like always, not pushing, not rushing, fingers playing along her skin like she’s the world’s most well-loved instrument. 

Jamie, breathing soft words into every kiss. Jamie, exhaling, “Lead the way, okay? Tell me. Anything you want.”

Dani finds her own hand sliding down, exploring the familiar curve of Jamie’s neck, fingering the chain that rests against her collarbones, drawing down, down, until she’s taking a handful of something not Jamie in the least. Testing its weight against her palm. Curling her fingers loosely. Jamie, though this object is not possessed of skin or nerve endings, sucks a breath in through her teeth anyway. Like Dani taking the time to explore is doing something maybe Jamie herself can’t even explain.

“Okay?” she says, breath warm on Dani’s skin, and Dani nods. She finds her body is searching Jamie’s out, pressing in close, and Jamie’s hand is covering hers. Even as she moves Dani gently to her back, even as her hips are coming to rest against Dani’s, her hand is there. A grounding force, as ever. Guiding in. 

Dani draws a hot breath, knees bent, and Jamie pauses. Moves only when Dani’s eyes open and she nods, one arm around Jamie’s neck, pulling her down to kiss her parted lips. 

“Slow,” she agrees, and Jamie makes a noise she likes more than anything else in the world as she shifts her hips, slides all the way in. The world is dark around them, made up of little more than the careful rock of Jamie’s body against hers, the instinctive way her own legs come up to pull Jamie deeper, the wonderfully small, uncontrolled noise she can hear herself making against Jamie’s shoulder. The method is foreign, but it’s still Jamie’s body behind each thrust, still Jamie’s rhythm making her whimper and clutch at Jamie’s neck. 

They move together, and it’s been four years, four years of learning every inch of how Jamie is capable of moving with her, but Dani finds this is something other. Something perfectly matched. Not better, not a completion she’s never found before--Jamie has never been lacking--but new, anyway. 

She hears her own hitching breaths, hears the fevered, reverent way Jamie says her name over and over, the bed knocking against the wall again and again. Jamie, true to her word, goes slow the whole way, until Dani is biting her own lip against a cry, until Dani is clenching and shuddering under her. 

“Good kind of adventure?” Jamie asks, having carefully extricated herself, stripped off the addition, curled up against Dani’s chest. Dani hums. 

“Thank you.”

Jamie raises her head. “For what?”

Dani mulls it over, her body spent, her mind already on its way to sleep. 

“For,” she says at last, nuzzling closer, “not getting sick of me. Not getting sick of walking with me through the parts I’m not...prepared for.”

She doesn’t say what she means--that, someday, the parts she isn’t prepared for won’t be trying a new toy in bed--and knows she doesn’t have to. Jamie signed on for the whole adventure the day she took Dani’s hand, kissed her knuckles, promised her company for good or for ill. 

There’s a promise like that, Dani thinks blearily as she sinks into sleep. For better or worse. People say that to the person they’re going to...

5

Living in America when you can’t share the love of your life with the world is, sometimes, a lot more frustrating than Dani would have given it credit for before finding Jamie. Back in her old life, walking around with Edmund’s hand possessively wrapped around her waist, she’d felt like no one should want to lean into PDA. It was embarrassing, she felt. Horribly awkward, having someone else’s arm around your shoulders as you tried to fall into step with their much longer legs, or trying to find the right produce at the grocery store with someone insisting you hold their hand. She’d thought it would be a relief, in its own horrible way, not to have that opportunity. 

And then Eddie was gone, and Jamie’s was the hand in the grocery store, the arm hesitating before reaching her shoulders. Now? Dani gets it. Dani gets it, and can’t have it, and it makes her crazy.

She thinks Jamie knows this. Knows Jamie, too, longs for a world where no one would look twice if they curled close together in a movie theater, or lay with Dani’s head pillowed in Jamie’s lap at the park. Jamie wants the constant contact at least as much as Dani does, because tactile environments are where Jamie shines. 

It is, before Jamie ever said the words aloud, how Dani knew for a fact Jamie loves her. 

It is, before Jamie ever admitted as much, how she knew for a fact Jamie has chosen this for good and for all. 

And it is, as time marches on and strangers remain staunchly bigoted, making her crazy not to be able to embrace. 

Jamie feels it, too, she knows, but Jamie has a very particular way of coping with her inability to just behave normally with Dani in social situations. A way that is, in its own way, also driving Dani crazy.

She just keeps getting more and more handsy. 

The thing is, she’s doing it in the most absent-minded way possible, like Dani has watched girls--straight girls, girls who are allowed to cuddle close to other women and touch their hair and play with their jewelry without anyone caring to judge--do her whole life. In ways Dani herself can’t imagine. Jamie will just sidle up behind her, hand brushing her shoulder and falling away again before anyone can question it. She’ll touch two fingers lightly to the soft inner stretch of Dani’s wrist to get her attention at dinner, and by the time Dani’s fully registered it, her hand is gone, flagging down a waiter.

At first, Dani thought she was doing it on purpose. A kind of game to keep them entertained in boring public situations. She’d thought it was another brand of adventure, of Jamie being comfortable in her skin so long, she feels capable of sneaking past strangers. 

Now, after weeks of increasing torment, she thinks Jamie is just doing this. Somehow toeing the line between what is dangerous and what is fraying at Dani’s sanity. 

“How are you doing that?” she asks when Jamie brushes the tips of her fingers just under Dani’s blouse, catching the strip of skin before her jeans begin, though they’ve got seven customers milling around the shop. Jamie looks confused.

“How am I doing what?”

“You’re--” Dani bites down on the words as old Mrs. Morgan, who comes in twice a month for arrangements to present to her daughter-in-law, shuffles up to the counter. Jamie smiles her best customer-service smile, as polished and somehow genuine as anything, and sets to work ringing her up. Dani, free for the moment, leans back with thumbs folded tight into her fists.  

“Sorry,” Jamie says a few minutes later, once more wearing that lightly-perplexed look she gets when Dani points out something of which she has not been conscious. “What’ve I been doing, now?”

“You’ve been...” Dani makes a concerted effort to lower her voice, which seems like a wise idea right until Jamie takes another step and bends her head to hear the next words. She’s right there, barely three inches away, and Dani’s never clenched her fists so hard to keep from grabbing at thin black suspenders. “Touching me. In public.”

“Have I?” Jamie looks genuinely startled. “More than is normal, you mean?”

Dani shakes her head, unable to stomach the difference between what is normal for them and what is normal for women who are not sleeping together. Not in love. Not sharing every inch of a life that deserves to have songs written about it. 

“I’m sorry,” Jamie says. “Honestly, Dani, I didn’t mean--am I making you uncomfortable?”

You’re making me want you, Dani thinks helplessly, in places I absolutely cannot have you. Which is, in its own way, worse. 

“I’ll be more careful,” Jamie assures her, completely missing the point. She reaches as if to touch Dani’s elbow, catches herself, smiles wryly. “A lot more careful.”

Dani wants to tell her that isn't what she wants, isn’t what she’s ever wanted, that there’s only so much time in the world for careful--but that’s the fire talking, the one running through her blood each time Jamie looks up from repotting flowers and gives her a little once-over, a wink. The real world requires careful. The real world requires walking lightly, hands swinging a little apart. 

The real world requires, when Jamie leans over her to recover paper towel from a higher shelf, breasts pressing into Dani’s back, her to keep her goddamned head. 

It requires, when Jamie reaches around her for a drinking fountain in the park, bare skin of her arm pressed flush to Dani’s, her to keep her goddamned self-control in check. 

It requires, when Jamie laughs and bumps close in line at the airport, her fingers brushing the hair behind Dani’s ear to keep it out of her eyes, for Dani to keep her goddamned pulse from skittering into adrenaline overdrive. 

It’s been years, she reminds herself furiously as they settle in on the plane. They’re off to see Owen for the first time in ages, and it’ll be good to get away--there have been feelings she can’t collate inside her head, dreams in black and white she wakes from gasping. A little time away should help bring her back down. 

Back down from worrying over ghosts, anyway. 

Jamie’s wandering hands, on the other hand...

“Jamie,” she hisses, because airplane seats are really not spacious, and though they don’t have a seatmate on the aisle, there’s an elderly couple across the way with a perfect view of Jamie’s hand resting on her knee. Jamie looks down, jumps a little, tucks the offending hand under her own leg. 

“Shit. Don’t know what’s wrong with me...”

Nothing, Dani wants to say, is wrong with you. It’s them. They’re wrong for asking us to hide. They’re wrong for asking me to ever pretend, even for a second, that you’re not the most important person in my life. 

“It’s all right,” she whispers instead, like the pressure of Jamie’s palm sliding off her kneecap hasn’t left scorch marks. She closes her eyes, leans her head back. There’s a long flight ahead for someone already on fire. A long flight, and she thinks with truly feral madness, There’s a bathroom. Small. Cramped. But we could fit, maybe. I could get her in there, maybe. 

She lets the image unspool for a moment: Jamie propped against a tiny airplane sink, muffling filthy sounds against her arm, Dani on her knees before her. No. No, best put that away for now. Even if they weren’t caught, by some insane miracle, they’d just have a bigger problem afterward. A problem labeled we’ve proven we’re willing to test this. 

Dani isn’t, not really. Not if there’s a chance of blowing up their whole life. 

Still, it’s hard to scrub the idea away. Jamie is looking at her with some concern, and it’s fair: Dani’s aware her cheeks are pink, her breath coming in sharp hitches. She forces a smile.

“You all right?” Jamie asks quietly. “Don’t feel sick, do you?”

“Not sick,” Dani says. She presses her lips into a thin line, gaze flicking unintentionally from Jamie’s eyes to her mouth, and understanding breaks slowly across Jamie’s face. 

“Ah.” She looks so smug. Dani wishes that made her want Jamie any less. 

“Don’t tease,” she mutters. “Can’t help it.” She really can’t, either. Jamie’s been there, right there, touching her everywhere for such short bursts, but the shop has been crazy. They’ve been tired. There hasn’t been any real time together in far too long. 

Jamie looks at her, a long look that Dani thinks for a heart-stopping second will end in her simply saying, “Fuck it” and leaning in to kiss Dani on this plane. Can’t, she warns her silently. Can’t do that, Jamie, because if you start, I won’t be able to stop--

“Bit chilly,” Jamie says conversationally to someone over Dani’s head. She turns, catching sight of an airline stewardess just as Jamie adds, “Wouldn’t say no to a blanket, if there’s one handy.”

Oh, she’s made a joke, Dani thinks, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Heaven help me, she’s made a goddamn Owen pun, and they don’t even know. 

The blanket, when it arrives, is thick, made of a somewhat scratchy dark gray material. Jamie spreads it laboriously across her own lap first, then makes a show of looking at Dani. 

“You cold? Only, this is huge, and I’d feel terribly selfish hogging it the whole trip.”

Across the aisle, one of their elderly neighbors nods as though Jamie is the wisest, kindest person she’s ever seen in the wild. Jamie gives a returning nod, says blithely, “Ask for a blanket, flight’s always frigid once we get going.”

She’s pulling the blanket across Dani’s lap now, somehow making it look as though her hands are not sliding up Dani’s thigh in the process. Dani nearly bites her tongue trying not to respond. 

She does believe, with her whole heart, that Jamie did not mean to start this. That Jamie’s wandering hands in public are entirely a thing of habit built at home. Jamie is always touching her at the apartment, always squeezing her arm or stroking her cheek or kissing whatever part of her is within reach. It’s the most natural thing in the world. She certainly hasn’t been putting them at risk on purpose. 

But right now? Right now, on this plane, tucking the blanket carefully around Dani so there’s no way prying eyes can catch a glimpse of what’s going on beneath it?

Jamie is absolutely doing this on purpose. 

“Are you crazy?” she hisses, trying to look as though she isn’t seconds from flying out of her own skin. Jamie is smiling so calmly, so rationally, tucking her hands under the blanket.

“Nope. Just chilly, as I said. Aren't you?”

Dani thinks she’s never been warmer in her entire life, not with Jamie’s rebellious left hand dragging the skirt up over her knees. From an outside perspective, it’s impossible to see; Jamie looks perfectly calm. Even friendly, should anyone catch her eye. She smiles like she doesn’t have Dani’s skirt rucked nearly to her waist.

She smiles like her hand isn’t sliding down the curve of Dani’s thigh now, cresting against the front of cotton underwear. 

“Jamie,” Dani breathes. Jamie leans over on the pretense of trying to glance into the aisle for persons unknown. Her lips graze Dani’s ear. 

“Keep quiet. Just pretend you’re looking out the window.”

Looking out the window, Dani thinks wildly, right. Like nothing’s going on under the noses of their fellow passengers. Like nothing whatsoever is happening under this blessedly-thick blanket, Jamie’s left hand tracing shapes into the apex of her groin. Jamie, with the calmest goddamn smile she’s ever seen, saying, “This is going to be good for us, y’know. Haven’t been out to see the sights in ages. America’s really gotten under my skin...”

How, thinks Dani, fists clenched against her own thighs under the blanket, is she talking? How can she possibly be holding a perfectly sane, perfectly serene conversation with her fingers sliding up, pulling aside the elastic of Dani’s underwear, moving the material aside just enough to press against slick skin. Dani swallows hard enough to hurt. Her own fingers are leaving impressions against her legs, bruises she’d rather be digging into Jamie’s skin. 

“You’ll like it,” Jamie says in a placid, low voice, like her fingers aren’t currently tracing a spot particularly wet and warm. Like Dani’s hips aren’t twitching as she fights the urge to press into Jamie’s hand. Like she doesn’t know Dani’s nails are biting into her own thighs, dragging grooves that will burn later. 

“Jamie.”

“Mm?” Like she doesn’t know. She’s grinning a crooked, cheerful little grin that makes Dani want to kiss her blind. If only they weren’t on a plane, if only there weren’t so many damn people around, she’d be out of this seat and riding Jamie’s lap, paying her back for this, making her squirm--

“You,” Dani says through clenched teeth as Jamie teases with one finger, slowly sliding in and easing right back out again. “You are in so much trouble when we land.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, eyes shining. If anyone bothered to look at her properly, they’d see the hunger etched all over her face, even under the easy smile. “Yeah, reckon I am. But that’s hours off, yet, Poppins. Might as well enjoy the ride.”

Dani moves a hand to grip Jamie’s knee as hard as she can, exhaling through her nose to keep from whimpering as Jamie sets a slow, dangerous pace. 

This, she decides, will certainly be the thing to drive her insane. 

6

She's learned a lot about Dani over the years. A lot of wonderful, invigorating, sexy things about Dani--and a lot of simple ones, too. How much garlic Dani prefers in just about any dish. How good she is at decorating a house so it looks safer than anywhere in the world. How bad she is at pretending not to stare when Jamie walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a mis-buttoned flannel shirt. 

A good relationship, Jamie has determined--all too aware that this is the first and last truly good relationship of her life--is constant education. Learning what your person likes, and doesn’t like, and didn’t think they could ever tell you they liked until the moment arrived. Learning when to keep the lights on, when to hold them in the dark. Learning what moods beg a kiss, which ones require hands wiping away tears, and which ask only for silence. 

She’s been with Dani a long time. Hopes to be with her a lot longer. Decades, if she can trick the universe into granting them that long a reprieve. Years, if she can only steal that much. Any time with Dani is cherished. Any time with Dani is more than either of them expected. 

She’s been with Dani a long time, and there’s a lot she knows now. Where Dani’s ticklish in ways that will derail sex entirely by way of hysterical laughter; where she’s ticklish in less aggressive ways that will, in fact, enhance the experience when Jamie kisses those spots. She knows that Dani likes to relinquish control, because it makes her feel safe in Jamie’s hands, and that she sometimes likes to sneak control back when Jamie isn’t looking, because she likes the way Jamie forgets how to speak when she’s surprised. She knows the way Dani likes her neck kissed, the way Dani likes to be held through a particularly intense orgasm, the way Dani gets the right kind of embarrassed when something unexpectedly obscene comes out of her mouth at just the right moment. 

She knows a lot about Dani, every last detail precious, but she doesn’t know everything. Sometimes, Dani still surprises her.

Like the day she comes home with a sad little plant. 

She doesn’t recognize the look on Dani’s face, and a part of her--the part that’s been waking more and more as Dani jerks restlessly in her sleep, as she carefully averts her eyes from the bathroom mirror, as she gives that old tired not-quite-present smile Jamie remembers so well from their last week at Bly--worries. Dani is still full of surprises, but some of those surprises have teeth. Some, Jamie fears she’s not strong enough to lift from Dani’s shoulders. 

This time, though, the look is less hunted and more...quietly nervous. Jamie is distracted, failing miserably to secure dinner for what feels like the thousandth time in this kitchen, but something about the way Dani is hefting this plant cuts through her focus. 

Dani, rescuing plants off the side of the road. Be still her heart. 

Something about the way Dani glances at her as she takes over at the stove, something about the way Dani brushes past like she’s running on something electric, nearly ruins the surprise. Nearly. Except Jamie is distracted, and there's something green and not entirely lifeless to repair, and Jamie has always been up for getting to the heart of a problem. The roots, she sees without really needing to dig. The roots are...

“Dani,” she hears herself say. “Why’s there a...”

And then Dani is using words like best friend, love of my life, words so big and so wonderful Jamie wonders if she’s really awake right now. And there are other words, scary ones--don’t know how much time we have left--but Dani chases them quickly with the best words Jamie’s ever heard. Words like spend them with you. Words like we’ll know. Words like it’s enough for me, if it’s enough for you. 

Jamie can’t imagine this not being enough. 

She’s half-crying, kissing Dani, half-laughing, wholly effervescent. Dani’s hair is soft under hands that suddenly feel too small, too clumsy, holding on to something so fragile. Dani’s whispering I love you against her lips, and Jamie recognizes some fear in the way she’s pulling Jamie closer. Some fear, and a huge amount of relief, too. 

“Did you think I’d say no?” she teases when the tears dry up enough to let her speak again. Dani, forehead pressed against hers, shakes her head minutely. 

“I don’t think anyone knows what the answer will be. But...no. No, I didn’t.”

“Good,” Jamie says, trying to look like she’s not sniffling. “Think you know me better than that.”

“I know you better than anyone,” Dani says, so honestly, Jamie feels something crack from deep inside. She slides the ring onto her finger to distract from this feeling of being dunked under by some enormous wave, by feelings she truly once thought she’d never have the space for in her body. 

Dinner is decidedly not salvageable by this point, and Jamie finds she isn’t hungry, anyway. She leads Dani to the the couch, curls up close to her, eyes straying back to that sad little potted plant. 

“Tried to grow it, didn’t you?”

“No,” Dani says, with exactly the same inflection she once used at six in the morning in a greenhouse. Jamie laughs. 

There’s an energy between them tonight unlike anything Jamie’s ever felt before. It’s been hinted at over the years--in a bedroom at Bly, in a diner in the Midwest, in the middle of their shop--but never quite so clearly as in this moment. Dani, who has seemed less and less content lately, has an arm around her shoulders, her breath coming easier than it has in weeks. Jamie doesn’t like thinking about that, doesn’t like looking too closely at what might be pulling Dani back down that particular road.

This, she decides. Just this. Just today. The rest can wait. 

Dani has her hand in her lap, is fiddling with the ring like she can't quite believe she had the guts to actually give it to Jamie. Dani is always so much more surprised by her own courage than Jamie has ever been. It was always, she thinks, watching Dani idly twist the gold band back and forth, going to be Dani doing the proposing. Dani, whose relationship with marriage is so complicated. Dani, whose relationship with time is so complicated. 

There’s a lot in the relationship Dani leaves in Jamie’s hands. Repairs around the house, ideas of how the shop could run more smoothly, most nights in the bedroom. There’s a lot Dani doesn’t feel like she needs to grip in tense fists, a lot Dani has never felt the need to control. Jamie’s not sure control is the word she’d choose for herself, either, but there’s a certain natural leadership to her posture in the world. Maybe because, for a time, there was no one but Jamie herself calling the shots. Maybe because she’s used to making hard choices, unable to drop them on anyone else’s shoulders. 

It makes her feel an unexpected kind of strong, that Dani trusts her with so much. 

But this always felt important to leave to Dani. Jamie would have been all right if they never had this conversation; the way she sees it, not much would have changed. Dani is still her most important person, ring or no. She’ll be here as long as Dani will have her, even without vows or witnesses.

But for Dani to have done this--for Dani to have planned it out, kept it a secret when she is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets from Jamie (”I never know,” she says, making a horror into the sweetest thing in the world by virtue of pout alone, “how much time we have, why would I keep anything from you?”), dropped it smoothly on a sunny evening like this--is perfect. It’s small, and it’s private, and it’s the bravest thing in the world. 

“I love you,” Jamie says, because there is no amount of saying it that would feel like enough. Dani smiles until the corners of her eyes crinkle. 

There are things that have surprised her about Dani over the years, and things that may have surprised Dani even more--but the thing Jamie finds most surprising of all comes from this. From the way her whole body relaxes in Dani’s hands. From the way her eyes close and her breath shallows out when Dani’s nearby. She’s never been good at vulnerability, not with anyone, but the minute Dani entered her life, it’s like vulnerability became her life’s mission.

Never consciously. Never with intent. Just...organically, the way cells know to age, the way plants know to seek sunlight. Dani walked into her life with shoulders tight and more love in her heart than she seemed to know what to do with, and suddenly, Jamie wanted only to give. Her time, her affection, anything Dani needed. Anything Dani could ever want. 

It should be exhausting. It should take everything out of her. It should wring her out and leave nothing in its wake. 

Instead, it seems to make her stronger every day. It seems to make her more with everything she gives to Dani: her love, her hope, her reassurances. She gives, and Dani, who could so easily take, gives back, and Jamie thinks, It’s this. It’s the exchange. Not just the caring, but the being taken care of. 

“What’re you thinking?” Dani asks. Jamie winds their fingers together, brings their joined hands to her lips. 

“That I’m lucky. Incredibly, illogically lucky.”

“Should I have--” Dani hesitates. “I don’t know, done it sooner?”

Sand in an hourglass, Jamie thinks. In the end, it’s all sand in an hourglass, and no amount of rushing can change it. 

“It was perfect,” she says, leaning across Dani to kiss her lips. “Truly. Couldn’t ask for better.”

Dani looks like she may be considering pressing--there’s a particular crease she gets between the eyes when self-consciousness is at the wheel, and it breaks Jamie’s heart every time she sees it. Jamie pushes her back against the arm of the couch, dropping with her until they’re laying flush, cupping one hand under Dani’s jaw to kiss her properly. 

“Perfect,” she repeats, brushing her nose against Dani’s, sighing when Dani’s hands move reflexively to slide the strap of her overalls off her shoulder. 

There’s less verbal reassurance from there, considerably more work done via hands and sighs and lips. They’re laughing even as Jamie shifts too far to the left and rolls them both onto the very-solid floor in a half-dressed heap. Dani’s still laughing--half-wild with what Jamie reads as untempered relief--even as Jamie helps her wrestle out of her jacket, even as Jamie is sliding down her body, kissing her way back up again through the impossibly-deep slit in her dress. 

There are times with Dani that feel like the pair of them will burst into flame if they aren’t touching, if they aren’t setting a rhythm together in that very moment. There are times where it’s all hunger, all heat, where Jamie thinks the very act of loving Dani might set her ablaze. And then there are times like this: times where Dani watches her with half-lidded eyes, smiling even as Jamie is undressing her, even as Jamie is coaxing cloth aside and pulling Dani to her mouth. Smiling, sighing, shifting under Jamie like there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be. 

Times like this, tasting Dani, grasping blindly for her hand with eyes closed, are secretly Jamie’s favorite. Times like this, feeling Dani move beneath her, tracing Dani’s knuckles with the pad of her thumb, Dani’s voice the only song in the room, are the absolute ideal. It’s only here, in their home, knowing Dani would give anything to keep this safe, that Jamie thinks she’s her absolute best self. 

It’s here--curled on the floor with her back against Dani’s chest, Dani’s hand tossed lightly over her hip, both of them covered with a very badly crocheted blanket Dani picked out at a flea market--that she feels most real. 

“I want this,” Dani says sleepily, words muffled with her mouth pressed against Jamie’s shoulder. “For as long as possible.”

“Sleeping naked on a hardwood floor?” Jamie shifts her face against her bent elbow, grinning. Dani’s arm slides tighter around her middle.

“Holding you. Anywhere.”

“Think that can be arranged,” Jamie says, voice unexpectedly thick with emotion. Dani nuzzles against her shoulder again.

“Promise?”

Something releases in her chest, the duality of Dani now--a Dani who is starting to get scared again, but still brave enough to ask Jamie to marry her--and Dani then--a Dani terrified already, but so brave in asking Jamie to stay--coalescing into one. She inhales, shuddering, pressing back into Dani’s arms as hard as she can. Dani squeezes like she understands, like she knows Jamie needs nothing like she needs to know Dani is the most solid thing in the room. 

This is the thing, Jamie thinks, that surprises her most. Not just being taken care of, but needing it from Dani. Needing to be held, needing to feel the weight of Dani’s body against her own. Needing to be reminded that for all her good humor, all her confidence, all the times Jamie can’t help putting Dani first--Dani’s doing the exact same thing. 

“I’m gonna marry you,” she hears herself say, turning in Dani’s grasp and pressing her face against Dani’s neck. “Someday. Minute it’s even remotely legal.”

Dani makes the most content noise she’s ever heard in her life. “One day at a time,” she says. To Jamie’s ears, it's the purest kind of vow. 

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

hi okay i'm so sorry if this is a bother but i'm literally screaming uh oh my GOSH OKAY

SO i'm the author of this fic !! and your comment literally made my entire life i'm crying right now oh my gosh

okok i just also really want to say a big thank you!! you've been my writing inspo for ages, whenever i need a break from certain fandoms or fanfics i always find myself going back to yours?? and the way i've spent hours just reading your works because your writing style is so . SO . ACDHCISUCIHUS it's just amazing ?? like your fics are the ones i stay up all night reading because i literally cannot stop?? i went on a one-year hiatus and posting another fic since then on ao3 was terrifying,, but your comment just . AGSJCBHSC made me feel so welcomed and at ease 😭 i know it's just a comment and it shouldn't be that big of a deal but man as someone who just . AKSCS loves you and your writing like holy smokes is this the real life???? like?????

OKOK IM SORRY FOR MY OVERUSE OF WORDS IN THIS BUT THANK U ILYSM HAVE AN AWESOME DAY

I HAVE BEEN HOLDING THIS ASK GENTLY FOR THE PAST HOUR HELLO??BGSDLFKMA;WIWEMFA

LITERALLY THE OPPOSITE OF A BOTHER I'M GBSADL;FAWE

i'm |;A;/ /pos I think this is straight up the most cherished ask i've ever received in my life I'm saving it forever thanksBG;LAKWMFOAWBHEF

Posting new writing fresh off a break can be pretty nerve wracking, I'm still working on getting back in the writing groove since my break tbh gbsdkfmowe, but my guy, my guy, ur writing?? REAL GOOD, REAL GOOD STUFF 10/10. One of the first things Kai Sand did when we got on VC this morning was drop a link to your fic in as many places as he could, and after reading it MAN I CAN SEE WHY, IT'S FIRE WRITING AND CHARACTERIZATION. Even people not in the fandom in our little group read it and liked it, so that says something about the quality. You've got mad skills and I'm glad someone like you is back into writing stuff and doing what they love, even if it was a little scary to put the writing up on ao3 <3

ALSO I'M BGSLDFMA;OWFOAWEM IT MEANS SO FREAKING MUCH TO ME THAT MY COMMENT COULD HELP WITH THE NERVES A BIT, AND I'M STILL |;A;/ OVER U LIKING MY WRITING N STUFF I'M GONNA SOB GBSDFMA;WOIEAMF NOT ME CRYING ON VC OVER THIS ASK BBGSDLFKJSDFLSDF

Anyway, you're lovely, thank you so much for this ask it genuinely just made my day /gen /gen /pos /pos /pos bG;LKAWMEF;OAWEF

For anyone wondering what fic we're talking about its she was my sister before she was your lover ninjago fic HIGHLY RECOMMEND GIVING IT A READ IT'S LOVELY AND HONESTLY INSPIRING MAKES ME WANT TO START WRITING SOME STUFF FOR NINJAGO AGAIN I GOTTA BE HONEST, FR REAL GOOD STUFF

[mrsnegan]

Dirty Little Secret - Negan x Virgin!Reader

[This is my first contribution to @band--psycho's bingo challenge. I love my board so damn much, btw!]

Summary: The female reader is visiting her best friend Celia who is still living with her dad, Negan. After a cheerful party, the reader is confronted with her inappropriate feelings towards Negan, who also discovers her little secret...and offers his "help".

Square: Character x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: virgin!reader, age gap, smut, swearing, daddy kink

Part 2: Movie Night

Part 3: Pitch Black Impala

Part 4: Calm Before The Storm

Part 5: When It All Comes Crashing Down

Part 6: Aftermath

Part 7: Drunk

"C'mon babe, we're going to be late!" Celia's head appears in the door to the guest bedroom.

"Just a second", you respond and reapply your lipstick. It's a deep red, matching the dress you're wearing. One of your high school buddies, Steve, celebrates his 22nd birthday today. And as luck will have it, spring break is the perfect opportunity for you to visit your best friend Celia, so you both can catch up and party with your friends. Celia lives with her cool (and pretty hot) dad Negan who is chill most of the time but strict when it comes to boys. You've befriended Celia in your last year at high school, since then, the two of you were inseparable. Uni came and so you moved away, but with friends and family still living here, you are visiting quite often. She's told you about her mother dying when she was a child, her dad's breakdown and all the trouble he went through to still give Celia everything she may need in life. It has made you cry more than once when you thought about their tragedy but when you look at them now, their laughter loud and their bond strong, you feel happy for them. Though, it also makes you feel guilty because of the, well, inappropriate thoughts you entertain since a few years. Those thoughts won't leave you be, they appear in the most unfitting situations. Negan handing you a cup of coffee, him opening the front door in one of his buttoned-down shirts, him just smiling at a bad joke of yours...all of this lets this warm and tingly feeling spread through your whole body, traveling straight to your core. Hell, you've lost count at how often you've touched yourself to the thought of him - and you feel dirty afterwards, time after time. He could be your dad too, you shouldn't entertain such ideas. With a huff, you look at your own reflection in the mirror for the last time before you stand up, put on your shoes and get down the stairs.

Celia is waiting for you at the front door, motioning for you to hurry up.

"Don't rush me or I will fall down those damn stairs", you say laughing.

"Oh, we won't have that, will we?" His barritone voice, suddenly right in front of you, chills you to the bones.

He offers you his hand and after just a second of hesitation, you take it so he can escort you down the last few steps.

"Dad, you're always such a gentleman, it hurts my eyes", Celia giggles. Your cheeks are bright red by now, you could have forgone blush.

"Thanks", you mumble when you reach the ground. Just one look into his hazel eyes is enough for you to gulp visibly. He looks good today, his smile is bright with a hint of mischiev in it.

"Have fun! And be good girls. Remember, if I catch you bringing home any boys, your punishment will be your smallest problem." It's not Celia he's looking at, it's you.

---

The party is all you've wanted it to be: full of fun, laughter, drinks, good music and amazing people. You really enjoy spending time with your friends and getting shitfaced in the process. You even kiss one of the strangers, Liam, or whatever is his name, and giggle afterwards when Celia drags you to the taxi.

"Don't tell your dad", you drunkenly whisper and Celia laughs loudly at your remark.

The both of you come home to a silent and dark house. Negan must be asleep by now which you welcome a lot. He doesn't need to see your drunken ass or ask you about what happened or didn't happen at the party. You say goodnight to Celia and go to the guest bedroom which happens to be door to door to Negan's room. His door isn't fully closed, so you risk a look inside. You can't see much, but you can make out Negan peacefully sleeping. His bare chest peaks out under the covers, making you drool. You look at him a moment longer, then head to your room and close the door behind you. You strip down to your underwear and lay on the soft mattress of the bed. You're drunk, horny and shameless, so your fingers find their way down your body into your underwear, scratching that itch Negan seems to leave every time you lay eyes on him. It doesn't take long for you to come undone, sleep taking you over after you barely manage to get rid of your now soiled underwear and pull the covers over your flushed body.

---

The bright light of the morning shining through the windows wakes you up the next day. Your head feels heavy, your eyelids too, so you try to sleep a bit longer. But with the sound of your phone buzzing on the night stand, there is no such thing. You grab it, immediately reading Celia's message:

"Couldn't wake you up, you little drunken, snoring mess, so I had to leave for the job interview without saying a proper goodbye. Got a kiss on your cheek from me though, haha. Coffee's waiting for you downstairs, some scrambled eggs too. Btw, don't tell dad about the job interview, he thinks I've got a doctor's appointment. Can't let him know I partied the night before it, he will ground me for the next months. Will be back in the afternoon, I'm meeting with Steve afterwards. Xo"

"You little bitch", you laugh. The smell of last night lingers in your nose. After a much needed shower and some freshly brushed teeth you feel human again. Downstairs, you pour yourself a cup of coffee and eat the scrambled eggs Celia prepared for you.

"Long night?"

You turn around to see Negan standing in the door to the kitchen, smiling down at you.

"Yeah", you shortly answer him, trying to anchor yourself with your coffee mug.

"Ah, to be young again. Too much booze makes my fucking head explode nowadays, you seem to look fucking decent for a long night out."

The hot rush of blood tings your cheeks red in an instant. You say nothing, just look down at your coffee.

You feel the chair next to you move, he sits down, looking at you.

"Any special occurrences at last night's party?" he asks in a casual manner, yet you can hear a dominant undertone, heart beating faster.

"No sir".

"Shit, Y/N, no need to call me sir. Do I make you feel uncomfortable?"

There's no way not to look him in the eyes now. Your gaze travels up, from his hands, to his shirt, up his neck to his lips, up to his eyes. They stare at you blatantly.

"Yes, a bit", you answer him truthfully. There's no denying with him, no chance to lie, he will see through you anyway.

"I'm just kidding, princess, no need to be nervous. All is good!" He heartily laughs, grabbing the empty coffee mug sitting next to yours, not without brushing your arm in the process, sending sparks through your whole body. He pours himself a hot drink too, before he stands up and leaves for the living room.

"And by the way, you looked smoking hot in that red dress of yours. I bet every little fucker wanted to get his hands on you. Lucky for them they didn't", he says on his way out, leaving you shivering and utterly speechless.

---

The next few hours you try to ignore your hammering heart and the heat pooling between your legs. His flirting is downright shameless, you can't even comprehend how someone can act this non-chalantly about all of this. He is your best friends dad, damn it. You've always thought your mind was filthy but this...you can't believe he's also feeling the unmistakable sexual tension between the two of you. Clearly he's only toying with you, why would someone as attractive and mature as him be interested in you?

With a sigh you decide to tidy up a bit. You collect last night's clothes from the floor when you notice, horrified, that something's missing. You search everywhere, under the bed, besides the sideboard, next to your bag, in your bag, but there's nothing.

"Are you searching for this, princess?" Negan stands in the door, again scaring the shit out of you. You look up at him, his smug smile telling you everything you need to know. From his fingers dangle last night's panties, those ones you came into while thinking about him.

"Give them to me, please." With a desperate try to snatch them from his hand, you nearly land against his broad chest.

"Uh uh, not so fast, princess. Just answer me one question, then you'll get them back."

"Fine." Arms crossed in front of you, you wait for his question, heartbeat fast, oh so fast, palms sweaty.

His grin spreads from ear to ear, mocking you.

"Tell me, who do you thought about while creaming those panties?"

You can't answer him, you can't possibly tell him, so you remain silent. Apparently Negan can't have non of that, taking a step into your direction.

"I heard you last night. Your little whimpers and moans made me rock hard, not gonna lie. And I'm fucking sure I heard my name too."

Still not answering him, you look down at your feet.

"C'mon princess, we're both adults here, no need to act like a little virgin."

As soon as he says this, you freeze, turning white while your eyes shoot up to his face.

Your reaction alone seems to be enough for him to read you like a book.

"No way."

You say nothing, again, unable to move a finger.

"Damn woman, you're a virgin." More of a statement than a question.

"Holy shit. Want me to pop your cherry?"

Negan is blunt, you've known him long enough, but this kind of bluntness shocks you...and arouses you to no end.

"Negan...", you gulp, "this is...we can't..."

"It's a fucking yes then, isn't it?"

"Negan, please...Celia...we can't do this."

"Celia's a big girl and this here, between us, none of her business. Just tell me what you want and I will gladly give it to you."

His offer is tempting, too tempting for you to deny it. Your nervousness can't compete with your desire, flooding your veins, clouding your mind.

"Negan...I...I want...you", you stammer. The truth is out, finally leaving your lips. You look up at him again, his eyes dark now, lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"Oh princess, you have no idea how damn long I've waited for you to say this."

He's on you in an instant, dropping your panties in the process, nearly knocking you off your feet while his lips collide with yours. No one before him has kissed you like this, his hunger for you plainly written in his face.

He walks you back towards the bed, his hands are everywhere, kneading the flesh of your round ass, collecting the material of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

The slight scratch of his salt and pepper beard feels delightful, an appreciated contrast to your hot skin. Your back hits the sheets, this time with him on top. Your sweatpants are next, leaving you in your underwear.

"Fucking shit, look at you." Negan's gaze travels from your face towards your covered pussy and back up again.

"I can't wait to feel you around me."

Your blush intensifies with his dirty words, you watch him take off his shirt and pants to. The glorious sight of his naked chest, covered in tattoos, and the obvious tent in his boxers, make your mouth water. He looks ready to pounce on, sexy and everything you've ever dreamed of.

With skilled fingers, he reaches around you to open your bra, baring your breats to his heated gaze.

"Beautiful", he praises. His lips close around your errect nipples, eliciting rich moans out of you. In no time your panties are on the floor too...and his face right between your legs.

"God dammit, princess, I haven't even started and your sweet pussy is this wet for me."

Looking down at him, feeling his beard against your sensitive skin, makes you cry out in pure bliss. And when his lips close around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, you're lost, hands travelling into his hair to press him against you. He licks and sucks at you gloriously before you feel one of his fingers against your opening. He eases it into you slowly but steady.

"Fuck", you whimper, when his movements increase. Another finger joins the first one, opening you up for him. His eyes remain on your face the whole time, studying your expression. His ministrations gain speed and with them your pleasure. It doesn't take long for him to make you cum, soaking his finger while he's lapping up your arousal.

With a grin he pulls back, taking a long look at your shaking body in front of him.

"Damn, had I know you're this responsive, I would've done this earlier."

You just laugh out of breath before you slowly get up and kneel down in front of him. Negan looks down at you with a raised eyebrow, seemingly interested in your next move. Your hands push down his boxers, freeing his erection. His member stands proud and big in front of your face, making you gulp. You have no idea how he might fit and the knowledge that this is definitely going to hurt comes to the front of your mind, but you crave him so much, you can't back down now.

Your hand closes around his length, giving him much needed pressure, before your lips take him into your wet mouth.

The moans coming out of his shoot fresh arousal straight to your core. This right here is better than any of your wet dreams. And you've dreamed multiple times of sucking him off. You start to bob your head, pleasuring anything you can't fit into your mouth with your hand.

"Fucking hell, princess, you might be a virgin, but you're definitely a pro at sucking cock."

He collects your hair into a loose ponytail while watching you work him. He pants above you with every push and pull, encouraging you with his hand in your hair to take him deeper, faster. You momentarily gag when he hits the back of his throat, but are rewarded by him growling loudly.

"Enough", he pants, gently pulling you off of him, "gonna cum in your mouth the next time, today it's all about this tight pussy of yours."

Negan motions for you to lay down on the bed again. He walks towards the sideboard, opening one of the drawers to get a condom. When he's ready, he joins you, looking you deep into your lust-clouded eyes before he positions himself at your center, leaning down to kiss you hungrily.

Suddenly, your nerves seem to get the best of you. Stopping Negan with one hand against his chest, you search his eyes. "Please be..."

"...gentle?" he ends your sentence for you, smiling down at you warmly.

"I'm no savage, princess. It will hurt a bit though, even with you being so fucking wet for me."

You laugh nervously, nodding your head in agreement. The kiss that follows feels sweeter than the last ones.

Eyes closed you wait for Negan to enter you. When nothing happens, you open them again, staring directly into his.

"That's better. Eyes open, Y/N, I wanna see all of you."

No sooner do you feel his tip at your entrance. Your nails drive themselves into his arms with the first little push.

"Relax for me. Daddy's got you", he coos and him calling himself that should have made you run away, but instead...it turns you on. The low moan leaving your lips yet again gives away your dirty mind. He just looks down at your face, smiling knowingly, pushing himself into you inch by inch.

"That's a good girl."

It hurts like hell, the stretch is uncomfortable and painful, though you cling to him, trying to relax as much as possible.

Negan kisses you sweetly, and while doing so, his hand travels between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit to give you some extra reward for taking him in so good.

When he's fully seated inside of you, he kisses away your tears of discomfort which roll down your cheeks.

"So good for me. You're taking me so damn well and that tight pussy feels like heaven. Breath for me, nice and even."

You do as he says, trying to relax your breathing.

He pulls out a bit before driving himself into you again, slowly, carefully. Your brows furrow, the strench still uncomfortable and an unknown feeling for you, though you breath steadily for him, trying to let him in, pull away and let him in again. The rhythm he sets soon isn't enough for you. The pain dulls, another feeling taking over.

"Negan", you whisper, another whimper leaving your lips.

"Yes princess?"

"F-faster please. Fuck me faster, daddy."

"Dirty girl", he comments with a smirk, increasing his thrusts. He is rewarded with your moans shortly after.

"How does it feel?" he asks you, panting himself.

"D-different than I imagined. But...fuck...so good."

He fucks you with a bit more force now, driving his length into you with precise movements. His hand returns to your clit, rubbing you in tune with his thrusts. It only takes a few more heartbeats for you to reach another orgasm. You writhe underneath him, the sensation tingling in your whole body.

"Fuck Y/N, you look so damn beautiful while cuming for me."

Negan's thrusts keep getting harder yet again, chasing his own release deep within you. You're a moaning mess, gladly letting him fuck you the way he needs to reach his high. And he does. With your name tumbling from his lips, he empties himself into the condom.

The both of you lay there breathless for long moments, the aftermath of your orgasms plainly painted on your faces and probably between your thighs.

When Negan pulls out, you whimper because of the loss. He gets rid of the used condom, taking a long look at you afterwards.

"Come princess, let's get you cleaned up", he warmly smiles down at you, offering his hand.

You take it and stand up on wobbly legs.

"Have I worn you out, Y/N?"

"No daddy, I'm just not used to your big cock", you answer him laughing.

"My my, no virgin anymore and already a corrupted little minx. Let's get into shower."

You follow him into the bathroom and when the water hits your face and body, you suddenly realize what you've done. Negan seems to notice your conflicted feelings, pulling you into his embrace from behind.

The water washes away your desire and also any evidence of your little activity.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, princess. This can remain between us two, our dirty little secret if you will", Negan says against your skin, kissing the spot right behind your ear. "But don't demand from me to keep my hands to myself when you're around. This pussy is too delicious to ignore."

---

Part 2: Movie Night

Tag list: @iluvneganandjamie

[aahsokaatano]

i've been crazy busy this month for various reasons, so instead of doing a regular "once per day" bingo thing, I decided to do a bunch of five-sentence dumps. Enjoy!

@cloneshipweek

1. Keeli/Doom

The helmet recovered from Ryloth sat heavily in Doom's hands. It felt like it weighed more than the rocky planet itself.

He ached to speak. To say I'm sorry, I failed you, I wasn't there when you needed me.

But the words didn't come, and Keeli would never tease him about being lost for words again.

2. Fox/Fox

"The more you speak," Fox said in a low, threatening tone, "the closer I get to punting you off the nearest platform and letting you free-fall to the surface."

"Aw, Commander, you say the sweetest things," the Torrent that Fox refused to name simpered.

One of these days, he was actually going to kill the CT. The name they had picked was bad enough - did they also have to be so karking annoying?

"You know, I hear kissing is a good way to keep people quiet," they grinned, and Fox didn't give them a chance to say anything else, much to their delight.

3. Keller/Neyo

They didn't ever speak about anything important, really. Neyo could chatter about anything and nothing for as long as Keller would let him, filling up the quiet of the med tent as he stitched the Commander back together after yet another harebrained mission that Neyo and Bacara had taken on.

Proof of life, in the little things. Keller could see he was alive, sure, but the more Neyo talked, the more he could see the tension drain out of the medic's shoulders.

If the stitches got a little more painful towards the end, well, that was just Keller's way of saying he was glad that Neyo was still there to feel the sting of it.

4. Hound/Tup

Grizzer always beat Hound to the lamding platform when the 501st came to Coruscant, not that Tup minded too much. The massif was a package deal with his handler, after all.

Hound laughed and wiped the slobber off of Tup's cheek to press a kiss there. "Welcome back, cyare."

"Good to be back, cyare."

5. Vaughn/Wooley

Someone once described them as distilled sunshine twice over. Vaughn had laughed, all but sparkling in his delight, and Wooley had grinned and blushed, running a hand through his hair and making it fluffier.

The darkness that was spread throughout the galaxy seemed to have a harder time casting a shadow over them. They were just... happy. They had each other, after all.

6. Oddball (Davijaan)/Crys

"You were reckless again," Crys fretted, watching with a scowl as Davijaan climbed out of his scorched fighter.

"And I won, again," he added, getting both feet back on the deck. "Isn't that what's important?"

"No, coming back to me is what's important."

Davijaan rested his forehead against Crys', hoping the contact would say what he couldn't find words for - that he won for Crys, every time.

7. Blackout/Grey

Grey was dozing, just enjoying the warmth of the bunk and the man next to him. Blackout was still deeply asleep, half on top of Grey with his head on Grey's shoulder and his arm over his waist. Warm, and comfortable, and safe.

It was a feeling they didn't get to indulge in often. He was going to relish it for as long as they were able to stay here.

8. Longshot/Hardcase

Hardcase had once claimed he wasn't a very good sniper, which was why he carried pretty much everything except a rifle.

Longshot was now ready to call banthashit on that.

"A millimeter," he said for the tenth time, "a single millimeter of difference between our shots and you say you aren't a good sniper!"

Hardcase shrugged. "You're the best and I'm not as good as you, so -" He gave a muffled laugh as Longshot cut him off with an aggrieved kiss.

9. Bacara/Colt

Kamino was as deary and depressing as ever, but the welcoming party was a sight for sore eyes.

"Colt," Bacara greeted softly, nodding at the other Commander.

"Bacara," he nodded back.

Later, they would have a proper reunion, would catalogue the new scars on each other and kiss away the ache of loneliness that had built up since they had last seen each other. For now, a short nod would have to do.

10. Dogma/Wrecker

Wrecker had called him 'regs' the first time they met, and Dogma had taken it as a compliment.

Dogma had quietly told Hunter about killing Krell, which got him assigned to CF99, and Wrecker overheard and immediately developed a crush.

They really shouldn't click as well as they did - uptight Dogma, loyal to the point of rabidness, and loose canon Wrecker, who loved nothing more than making things explode in glorious fashion?

But they did work, somehow, and soon it was Dogma-and-Wrecker, a single unit rather than two. And they excelled for it.

11. Thire/Cut

"I'm leaving, going AWOL."

"I know." The signs had been there for a while, he just hadn't wanted to think he was interpreting them correctly.

"You should come with me."

"I... I want to, but I can't." I'm sorry.

12. Bly/Spar

Bly had once thought that Spar was everything he wasn't - big and strong and fast and the best of the best.

But now he realized, Spar was an attainable goal, in more ways than one.

He was still a bit taller than Bly, but the muscled arms that wrapped around Bly in the night were hardly bigger than his own.

As Bly snuggled in closer, though, he still thought Spar was the best of the best. Even if they were closer in size, now.

13. Free/Free (my OCs, Crasher/Steel)

"Don't ever do that again," Crasher whispered against Steel's lips.

"I'm sorry."

"I - I thought -" a lot of terrible things had crossed Crasher's mind when Steel had been publicly declared a traitor.

"I know," Steel said, holding Crasher tightly. "No more covert ops for me."

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 16 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (15)

Next part (17) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

The Loss Of A Friend

You've never been to a funeral. Well, you did, but you were a kid and you didn't know the family friend who was being buried that day. In your child's mind, you didn't get why everyone was wearing black, in uncomfortable silence, crying all day long. You remember clearly that a blue bug got your attention, making your eyes follow its every move, making you smile despite the sad atmosphere.

It couldn't be more different today.

As the coffin is lowered into the ground, where Jason will forever rest now, you hold Billy's hand, the soft fabric of your black dress tickling your tights. You barely feel it though, all your sensations resumed to the weight in your chest, crushing, squeezing your ribs, smashing your heart.

You suddenly remember the day Monica introduced you to Jason. It was the Saturday before you started working at the pool, in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. He had his little brother on one arm, and the girl walking beside him, tugging on the hem his shirt.

“So that's the new girl.” He said, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out his hand for you to shyly shake. “I'm Jason, born to bear the weight of being Monica's cousin, but also the coolest guy you'll find in Hawkins.”

That, of course, started a small war of cheesy pick-up lines, insults, and sarcastic comments. You laughed, feeling easily welcomed by Monica's cousin.

Now, what gets your attention is how his young siblings cry, yell, calling out Jason as is he was just sleeping inside the wooden box and would wake up, smile, and start chasing them around again. He won't. Jason is only a memory now.

“I think we should go,” Billy says in a low voice, letting go of your hand to rub your arms softly.

Nodding, you let him guide you to his Camaro, driving you away from the sea of people dressed in black. You've known Jason for such a little time compared to everyone else here, who saw him grow up, studied with him, lived near him for many years. Your pain is just a speck of dust compared to theirs.

When you get home, the sun is setting. You decide to call Diane, just to make sure she's alright, but you don't tell what happened. It would make her come here immediately, and the last thing you need is someone else you care about being in danger. You have to lie, despite hating yourself for it, telling her that your voice is funny because you had to yell a lot with the kids at the pool. But it's better this way. There are more than enough people here you need to worry about.

“Come here,” Billy calls when you finally head to the bedroom. He sits in the bed, back against the headrest and you're quick to crawl into the bed and into his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“I don't know. Sad doesn't really explain it.” Putting your legs over his, you hide your face on his neck, breathing in your favorite cologne, the only one he uses since the day you told him that. “I can't believe I buried Jason. Jason. My crazy-ass friend.” Your voice cracks and you hold back a sob. “I'll never hear those stupid jokes again.”

“I'm so sorry, princess.” There's a pain in his voice too. Billy has been around Jason a bit, mostly with you. But you know he's actually sad because of how broken you are. You can see it in his eyes, that he wish he could take your pain away, and that he's desperate because he doesn't know what to do.

But there's nothing Billy or anyone else could do. You can't fight death. You can't hit it with a baseball bat full of nails until it gives your friend back. The only thing you can do is avenge him. Get whatever took him and destroy it.

“I wanna kill those Demothings.” The anger in your voice is tangible, and you clench your hands into fists. “I swear to God, Billy, I'll kill one of them myself.”

“Anger won't help. We need to be smart about it. We need a strategy.” Billy is often angry with things. Mostly with things that hurt you, but this time, you get why he's taking another path, trying to calm you down instead of putting more wood in the fire. “The meeting is set for tomorrow. We'll find a battle plan to kill those damn things.” His hand comes to lay on your thigh, fingers softly caressing your skin. “But for now you need to rest, ok? I'll cook something you like and then we'll cuddle watching some nice movie. How does that sound?”

“What if I cry through the movie?” You ask because more tears start rolling down, it doesn't matter how many times you try to get rid of them.

“Then I'll hold you tight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Billy is kind enough to try and get you into some small talk. Nothing too complicated, nothing related to the Demothings or Jason. You're thankful for that. He even manages to get a few laughs from you, although they're always followed by a reality check when the events of the last two days hit you again, and the smile is gone.

A couple of hours later you're watching Jaws, your head on Billy's chest as you try to follow the events of the movie. But it seems way too fast for you, or it's just your mind that's refusing to process anything that's happening.

You just keep thinking about death. About how Jason's whole life was cut short. How all of his plans for the future were erased.

“Billy, can I ask you something?” Keeping your voice low, you speak up for the first time since you came to the living room after having dinner.

“Of course, princess. What is it?”

Biting your lip, you consider if you should really bring that up. It's selfish to talk about your future when someone else won't have one. But this whole situation made you want to make plans because it's a privilege to still be here. It's a blessing to still have time. “What you said to Joyce about... Marriage. Did you really mean that or–” Pushing yourself up from where you were laying on top of him, you take a deep breath. “–or were you just trying to get out of the conversation. Because it's ok if–”

“Haven't I made it clear that I want to be with you for the rest of my life?” He moves to sit up as well, pulling you close until you're placed in between his legs, a hand caressing your cheek. “Because if I hadn't, I'll make it clear now. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I don't know how it happened, and it did get me by surprise, but the day you walked in the Hawkins Community Pool, I knew something changed in me. I knew I had to get to know you, and I did thought it would pass, that I'd get tired of you as I got of the other girls, but I didn't.” Billy holds you closer to him, your foreheads touching. “You hit me like–”

“Bang.” You finish for him, the memory of the day he was unbelievably honest with you coming back. The day he admitted to you, and somehow to himself too, that he liked you. It was also the day he punched David, and the day he kissed your cheek, making your stomach burn like it has been set on fire.

“Like bang.” He breathes out, warm lips coming in touch with yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him as close as you can, the need to feel that he's here, with you, clouding the sound of the TV. Billy moves to lay back down again, and when you move to follow his change of posture, your knee slips and connects to his ribs. “Ouch!” He breathes out, cutting off the kiss.

“Oh, shit. I'm so sorry.” Covering your mouth, you bring the free hand to rub his side. “Sorry, baby.”

Taking a deep breath, he grabs your arm and pulls you down, making you collide on his chest, giggling. “Sorry. I shouldn't be joking around with you now.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you try to get up, but his strong arms come around your body, keeping you from moving. “I hate you, Hargrove.” The fake sentence is soon overcome by a giggle. “I'll kick you right this time, I'm warning you.”

“Oh, I'm shaking like a leaf.”

“Don't test me, Hargrove. Keep in mind we sleep on the same bed and I know all of your habits, baby.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Mumbling, you manage to stand up, moving back into a sitting position. You know he actually let you go, but there's no reason to acknowledge that. Taking a deep breath, the sudden happiness is stained again, as the memories crawl back. It seems like Billy notices because his smile softens. “I love living with you, you know that, right?”

“I love waking up next to you every morning.”

You can't help the smile that comes to your lips as you bend over again, kissing his lips.

On the next day, Billy calls Anthony to ask him to give you a few days off work. Obviously, you have to urge your hothead boyfriend not to curse the manager and risk losing his job. You feel fine to go to the pool, or you think you do, but the truth is you wouldn't be paying much attention anyway. And much to your dismay, Billy gets a total of zero days off. No discussion, what makes him hang up the phone so hard you thought he broke the poor thing.

Since you don't want to be alone, and Billy would absolutely never allow you to be alone in the house when you're friend just died, he drives you to Joyce's place, where the party will gather to make plans.

Saying it's hard to be away from Billy on the day after you buried Jason is a misunderstanding. Seeing him drive away from Joyce's porch makes you feel like he's taking your heart with him. He didn't seem pleased either, but there was no other choice. You wouldn't make him miss the day, since you know Anthony is a terrible human being, just looking for the right excuse to get rid of the lifeguards.

“Honey, come inside,” Joyce calls a hand on your shoulder. “Can I get you something to eat? We had pizza last night and I have a slice in the fridge.”

“No, thank you, Joyce.” Politely, you decline her offer. “Is there any bed I can crash in?”

“Sure. Come.” Walking through Jonathan and Will, you wave at them, muttering a good morning and trying not to cry at their sad faces. They know Jason was a close friend, and, like everyone else, they don't know what to do or say. “This is Will's and Jonathan's room. Just pick a bed.” Nodding, you choose the one on the left and lie down. “Do you need to talk?”

“There's nothing to say.” Putting your head on a pillow, you stare at the ceiling. You feel comfortable around Joyce, she has this mother thing about her. “I just want this to end. Before anyone else gets... Eaten.” The word makes you shiver as it brings the image of his body back. “I wish I wasn't the one to find him. To... See him that way. I don't think I'll ever forget that.”

“Honey, I'm so sorry.” She comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “When... When they found Will's body, it hurt. I knew in my heart it wasn't him, but the very idea of losing my baby was horrible. So I have an idea of how you feel. Losing someone is a pain that doesn't go away. You'll get used to it, but it remains. All we can do is learn to deal with it and honor them by carrying their memories.”

You're crying through her speech, and you can't help but sit up and hug her, crying on her shoulder. “We have to be careful because I can't lose anyone else.” You're not sure if she can even understand what you're saying, but since she nods, you think she did.

“Don't worry, honey. We'll all be alright.” She pulls away, rubbing both your arms. “The kids will be here soon, but feel free to stay here or join us, ok? Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Offering her a small, sad smile, you watch as she leaves.

You hear when they get here, the chattering starts, and you can understand a few words here and there. They talk about you, and about Billy and about the funeral. But soon enough it falls into the major problem. And that's when you tune out, staring at the ceiling, trying not to make yourself too comfortable in someone else's bed.

The only thing you want now is Billy. You want to go back to the time where there was no Demogorgon, Demowhatever lurking around. At least to you. It's weird to know what really happened in Billy's car accident, how he was almost the host for the Mind Flayer. You're happy it didn't happen, that he's here now. You need to thank Max for that, actually. If it wasn't for her and the others, your Billy wouldn't be here. He could be dead, and you'd never meet him. He'd never shoot glances at you, or drive you home, buy you tacos or punch David's face. Or kiss you, hold you, love you. The thought of a life without Billy in it is absurd. Now, more than ever, after you lost someone so dear, you have this need to be with him. Just to make sure he's here.

Breathing out and closing your eyes, your hand comes to hold the necklace. It makes you feel closer to Billy, and there is a silent promise here, one you hold close to your heart, together with the earring.

Eyes open, you get up of the bed. You don't care if you got days off, you have to see him. Even if it's just for a hug. Leaving the bedroom, you make your way to the living room, which is crowded.

“We wait until it's late at night to make sure the Demodogs are out, sneak inside the tunnels, and spill insane amounts of gasoline all over it. Get the hell out, wait until it's morning, and set the whole thing on fire.” Dustin says, hands in the air and a smile on his face.

He's kidding, right? He can't be suggesting that as if it's the greatest idea of the world. “Are you completely insane?” You ask, making your presence known. Arms crossed, your eyes scan through the party. “You can't possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I agree with (Y/N), this is insane,” Joyce adds, her face making it clear she thinks this idea sucks. “I won't let you do that.”

“But–”

“The point is to kill them without getting ourselves killed. And every single idea you come up with has a hundred different ways to get us killed.” Steve says, both his hand on his hips as he paces around the room. “Who thinks this idea sucks raise your hand.” He's the first to do it, and Joyce, you, and Jonathan do the same.

“Count Billy in.” You say, raising the other hand as well.

“And Hopper,” Joyce states, giving you an approving stare.

“It's six against seven. We're doing it.” Dustin exclaims.

“No.” You basically shout, not caring one bit if you sound bossy. All eyes lay on you as you struggle to keep it together. “We're not doing it and that's final.”

“I–”

“I just lost a friend and I will not let you do something that might just end up in another funeral.” There are tears threatening to fall again, but you hold them back. “So come up with something else.”

The silence is deafening. You know you're breaking down again, even though the tears aren't rolling down. Yet.

“Please. There's gotta be something else.” Lowering your voice and looking down at your feet, you beg. You can't even think about someone else dying. You couldn't bear it.

“I saw this thing at school. Like a robot with remote control.” Lucas starts. “If we could build a bunch of them and attach a hose, we could guide it inside the tunnels and spread the gasoline.”

“Yeah, but there are seven holes. Which means a lot of ground we'd have to cover.” Eleven adds as you make your way to the group, sitting on the couch beside Joyce.

“Let's blow up six of them.” You burst out, crossing your legs. “A hell of a explosion that would take those things days to dig it back. Then there will be only one way in and out. Find a hell of a long hose or just connect a bunch of them and a million gallons of gas. The robots will spread it then we'll just need a match.”

“That's good. It could work.” Nancy says. “But we'll need to chip in to buy all these things.

“Hopper can get some for free I'm sure.”

“We start right now.” Mike stands up and the others follow. “Let's get started.”

The rest of the day is hectic. Lists are made, one of the kids teachers come over to help with what they called a summer project. For fun. And the materials started arriving. You don't really know what to do, so you help Joyce make lunch, keeping up with her small talk. Joyce is easy to be around, and you like to hear her stories about Will and Jonathan. You even manage to show a few smiles every now and then. After everyone is fed, you finally sit on the porch, trying to help as much as you can. The kids are genius, literally building remote control robots from random pieces and the instructions from books. It's amazing. Since you can't really be of much help in this aspect, you join Nancy, separating stuff or doing anything they tell you too.

When the sun is setting, some of them had to go home to gather their stuff. They'll crash here and take the robot construction through the night. By the moment you hear the faint noise of Billy's car, it's just Joyce's kids, Steve and Dustin. Leaving the small pieces of metal you were shaping into tiny little circles, you stand up abruptly.

“Where are you going? These circles aren't going to make themselves.” Dustin complains, raising his hands in the air.

“Billy is back.” There's no need for further explanation, so you tiptoe among the stuff, careful not to step on anything.

“It could be anyone.”

“Dustin, is there any other car in Hawkins that sounds like that?” As you speak, the noise gets louder and Billy's car comes to your sight.

“She knows her boyfriend's car.” Steve jokes as you walk to the yard, smiling when Billy stops the car and comes out.

“Miss me, princess?”

“Obviously.” It's a feeling of pure relief to see him. It feels like it's been so much longer than just some hours, but you feel that you'll have this insane need to be around him for a while. Just to enjoy the fact that you're still alive. You can't help but wonder for long the idea of death will hover over you... Probably forever.

“You ok?” He asks, his hand on your hair as you have your head on his chest.

“I will be.” Remembering the audience, you pull away, standing on your toes to kiss him. “Dustin had a terrible idea but I made him change his mind about it.”

“How did you do that?”

“I yelled.” With no intention of further explanation, you turn at the guys. “I'll be back tomorrow morning, alright? Have fun doing crazy science.” Waving at them, you get into the car.

You would like to stay at Joyce's, keep helping as much as you can, but you feel like you need silence and peace. The kid's laughter and jokes make you feel better, but you know that you also need to let the sadness creep over for a while. Keeping it hidden, disguised, makes no good. So as you dry and brush your hair, waiting for Billy to finish his shower, you cry.

For Monica, for Jason's younger siblings, his mother, his father, uncle, and aunt. For every friend he made since he was born. And for yourself too. Jason was one of the people that you imagined you'd be around for the rest of your life.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by the phone's ring. Rushing to answer it, you find it's Joyce, kindly asking if you can pick Mike up and drive him to her place, and of course, you comply.

“Billy.” You call when you hear him coming out of the bathroom. “Joyce needs us to pick up Mike. Nancy can't stop what she's doing there.”

“Sure. Let's go.”

Being out at night makes you anxious, but you try not to let it show. Eyes on the road, you bounce your leg nervously, tugging on the seat belt. Billy notices, and a hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“We'll be fine. Relax.”

“I'm trying.” Stretching your arm, you touch his neck. “I'm sorry if I can't stop thinking about Jason and what happened.”

“(Y/N), you just lost a friend. My responsibility as your boyfriend is to hold and love you through this process. Don't apologize.”

“I don't want this to be your responsibility, Billy.” When he turns his head to look at you, you run your fingers through his jaw.

He takes a deep breath, pulling over by Mike's house. You were about to get out, but since he doesn't move, neither do you. Billy looks like he's thinking, furrowed eyebrows and distant eyes. “Billy? Come back to Earth.” You decide to ask, taking off the belt and turning your body towards his.

“To have and to hold. For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He squints his eyes through the words, trying to remember them. It takes a while for you to understand what he means, and when you do, your heart starts drumming in your ears. “To love and cherish till death do us part.”

“Billy...”

“It means I'll stand by your side. Not because I feel like it's my responsibility, but because I love you. And I'm more than happy to take the responsibility of being your–”

“Couldn't you save that up for, I don't know, someday when I'm dressed in white?” The words come out fast, and you're blushing hard, your cheeks burning. “No. You had to do this now. Drive me insane now in your Camaro.” You roll your eyes dramatically when his lips break into a smile, that smug, cocky smile he has when he knows he got to you somehow.

“Be my wife, (Y/N).”

“No.” It's an utter absurd how hard you have to fight not to say the exact opposite. You want to just burst out the word, here and now, because you're so damn sure you want Billy for the rest of your life. “No, baby. We'll graduate, save up money and you'll make a decent proposal.” You hope he can't notice your hands shaking as you step out of the car, almost stumbling on the sidewalk. His words burn through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. “I won't say I'll marry you in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, in front of Mike's house.”

“Did I just make you nervous?” Billy's arms come to encircle your waist, his deep voice, and breath on your hair making you sigh.

“Shut up, Hargrove.” With the sweet sound of his laughter on your ear, you knock on the front door, trying to push him away before someone comes to answer. “Let go.”

“Are you using my cologne again?” As soon as he asks, you feel his nose softly rubbing your neck, what makes you giggle and try to push him away again, uselessly. “You are.”

It wasn't your intention to let him find out, but he always does. “Well, it was–”

The door is suddenly open, a yellowish light hitting your eyes as you try to stand up straighter. The woman standing there gives a step back as if she just saw a ghost. Her eyes fly from Billy and back at you, then all the way back to Billy. It hits you suddenly as you realize she's Mrs. Wheeler, the woman Billy was going to meet on the day the Mind Flayer almost got him. They haven't met or spoken since that day, and you weren't expecting her to look so... Perplexed. You try to read her expression, to understand what the look in her eyes means.

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.” You manage to say because Billy clearly won't even try to be polite. You feel his muscles tensing up, as he gets immediately uncomfortable under the woman's stare since she doesn't seem to even try to hide. “Sorry to disturb you. We're here for Mike.”

×

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

[matthewfairchildfanclub]

TSC but it's incorrect quotes.

Jem: Hey, Will, what's up?

Will: Well, I'm sitting in a pool of my own blood.

Jem: Is it... your own?

Will: Oh, yeah, probably.

Jem: Where is it coming from?

Will: Probably the stab wound.

Jem: yoU'VE BEEN STABBED?!

Will: Oh, yeah definitely.

_______________________

Kit: I wrote a song called I'm Late For My Final Exam and it's just three minutes of me screaming.

_______________________

Emma: Look upon the filed which I grow my fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it and see that it is barren.

_______________________

Will: Do you ever wonder how an author would describe you in a novel? Like, not only your appearance, but also your little habits and stuff. I wanna know how I'd be described.

Gabriel: Bet it would be something like "so here's this asshole."

Will: Honestly, fuck you, Gabriel.

_____________________

Kit: I mixed up Donkey Kong with King Kong and accidentally said Kinky Kong to my parents.

____________________

Izzy: Who is that weirdo on TV? He's running downtown with eight dogs.

Magnus: THAT'S MY WEIRDO

____________________

Sebastian: Be warned, I can kill you.

Jace: Be warned, I can die.

___________________

Jace: Excuse me, who made Alec the boss of the group.

Clary: You did.

Simon: You said, "Alec should be the boss."

Izzy: And then you said, "lets vote," and it was unanimous.

Magnus: And then you made him this plaque that says, "Boss of us."

Magnus: And put little sparkles all over it.

Jace:... all valid points.

____________________

Simon: What are you guys talking about? I'm like the backbone of this family.

Jace: You're more like the appendix of this family, no one knows what you're here for.

Alec: Also prone to explode at any given moment.

Jace: And a real pain to remove.

Simon: Fuck you guys.

_______________________

Emma: What's your problem?

Cristina: He keeps using common phrases incorrectly.

Kieran: Oh, cry me a table, Cristina.

________________________

Cecily: If a guy calls you "princess" in a condescending manner, assert your newly appointed royal status and have him beheaded.

_______________________

Will: I could get killed.

Will: Or even worse. Jem could give me a lecture on responsibility again.

________________________

Dru: What color are Emma's eyes?

Julian: The warm chestnut of well-worn leather when the sun comes out after days of rain.

Dru: What?

Julian: I said brown.

_________________________

Gabriel: Hello, Will, make anyone cry today?

Will: Sadly, no, but it's only 4:30.

__________________________

Will: Rubbing alcohol is for outside wounds. Drinking alcohol is for inside wounds.

Matthew: Cheers! I'll drink to that.

__________________________

James: What are you going to bring to dinner?

Matthew: My negative attitude and sparkling personality.

__________________________

Tessa: You're late.

Kit: Listen, I just spent twenty minutes in a standoff with the biggest cockroach I have ever seen, so that's where I'm at... mentally.

____________________________

Julian: I told you to stop doing that with the knives.

Dru, with knives taped to her hands: But Wolverine has-

Julian: I said stop.

____________________________

Aline: The only thing that seems to motivate you guys is pancakes.

Tavvy: Pancakes?

Ty: I love pancakes!

Dru: Do we have maple syrup?

Julian: I'll go buy some.

Emma: Where are they?

Aline: THERE ARE NO PANCAKES!

__________________________

Jace: And once again, Jace and Magnus save the day!

Alec: You didn't do anything.

Alec: It was all Magnus.

Jace: We're a package deal. Everyone knows that.

______________________________

Tessa: How can one man have so many enemies?

Will: I'm a people person who talks shit and drinks.

________________________________

Matthew: You're my best friend, but I'd fuck you if you asked.

James: What?

Matthew: What?

Lucie, from across the room: HE SAID HE'D FUCK YOU IF YOU ASKED!

_________________________________

Matthew: What if we kidnap-

James: No.

Matthew: Steal-

James: No.

Matthew: Blow up-

James: Not even a little.

Matthew: You're no fun.

________________________________

Julian: We need to distract the enemies.

Emma: Right, I can do that.

Julian: What are you going to do?

Emma: I'm gonna kill them all.

Emma: That ought to distract them.

__________________________________

Mark: I have a sword!

*two minutes later*

Mark: I have lost the sword.

_________________________________

Kit: My friendship with Dru is over.

Ty: What?

Kit: She stole my fries.

________________________________

Kit: Baking yeast has alcohol in it, but you can't get drunk off eating bread.

Kit: Trust me, I've tried.

_______________________________

Kit: I know you think my judgment is clouded because I like Ty a little bit-

Jem: You doodled your wedding invitation.

Kit: That was our joint tombstone.

Jem: My mistake.

______________________________

Clary, through the door: Are you decent?

Jace: Not morally, but I'm wearing pants if that's what you're asking.

______________________________

Kit: Ty, let's play 20 questions!

Ty: Okay, what's your favorite color.

Kit: Aces. My turn, do you like boys?

_______________________________

Julian, coming to bail the group out of jail: I hate you sometimes, you know.

Emma: Welcome to the club! You are one of 53 members. We make t-shirts and have meetings every Wednesday at 4.

Julian: What?

Mark: We would meet earlier, but Kit gets out of school at 3.

_____________________________

Jace, to Izzy and Simon at their wedding party: Alright, everyone, Saturday is the big day! A lot of us thought this day would never come. I may have been one of those people.

Izzy: I may have also been one of those people.

Simon: Wait, are we talking about our wedding?

Izzy: Yes.

Simon: Oh, yes, I was also one of those people.

____________________________

Emma: Julian and I slept together.

Cristina: And?

Emma: ... I thought you would be a little more surprised.

Cristina: Oh, sorry.

Cristina, in a shocked voice: AND?!

___________________________

Ty: The dishes aren't in alphabetical order!!!!

Kit: Excuse my language, but what the F U C K does that mean?

___________________________

Lucie: We shouldn't complain.

Matthew: I'm gonna complain anyways.

_____________________________

Dru: Kit? Are you alive? Knock once for yes, twice for no.

Kit: *pauses, then knocks twice*

Dru: What do we do? Kit's dead!

______________________________

Will: Do you know....? Do you KNOW what it's like to be AFRAID of YOURSELF?!

Tessa, thinking of all the money she blew on a scam: Geez, man, I sure do-

_____________________________

Clary: Simon, you've got a lot to offer Izzy. You're funny, you're smart-

Magnus: You're creative, you've got style...

Jace:

Magnus:

Clary:

Jace: Oh, did you want me to say something?

Jace: You have brown hair, your name is Simon.

Simon: Thanks, Jace.

_____________________________

Will: I've done a lot of dumb shit.

Tessa: I witnessed the dumb shit.

Cecily: I remember the dumb shit.

Magnus: I joined you in the dumb shit.

Jem: I tried to stop you from doing the dumb shit!

_______________________________

Jace: Okay, so-

Alec: No. Don't you dare! Stop. Stop. I don't wanna hear it. I have been cleaning up your messes for way too long and now I'm aging prematurely. You are driving me steadily insane. So I don't wanna hear it. Go away. I'll be dead next month at this rate. Leave me alone.

Jace: I was just gonna ask you if you wanted toast...

Alec: Oh, well. No thank you.

Jace: Good, because I blew up the toaster and now one of the plants is on fire.

______________________________

Kit: If you are about to be stabbed, just say, "I have too much swagger for the dagger," and they will leave you alone.

Dru: Or stab you a hundred more times.

______________________________

Will: WHO ATE MY FRIES

Will: I'M GONNA FUCKING KI-

Jem: I did.

Will:-ss you and buy you more. You haven't been eating enough.

______________________________

James: A waiter could literally murder me and I'd still tip 20%

Matthew: I would actually tip more if they murdered me, that's great customer service.

_______________________________

[chaos-event-horizon]

I totally feel you there D: Got some nasty anons (perhaps the same person sending every one?) a good few days ago and I was thinking about it too hard I guess and started fucking crying and like??? This shit is happening all because of fictional ships, and us shipping ourselves with much older characters shouldn't get these antis' panties in a twist. Because it isn't real. But it does, and it's fucking pathetic.

I hope you're able to have something to eat -- maybe something your f/o would enjoy <3

I'm so sorry you had to deal with this too! It might all just be the same people making rounds? I hope they swallow their spit wrong and have to embarrassingly cough about it in public while their crush watches. Or something equally mortifying.

And like? CORRECT. To a lot of us it feels very real. These feelings are real. Our happiness is real. To me, Toshinori is absolutely my boyfriend. But at the end of the day these characters are still fictional characters. Antis have no right to be acting like this. It's completely unnecessary and does nothing but show how gross and narcissistic they are, to think their awful opinions actually matter.

Ngl... I ate very cold steak just now and immediately started crying cause I thought to myself "Toshi wouldn't be letting me eat this in bed. Toshi would probably talk me into getting up and microwaving this. Toshi (as a villain) would be choosing violence if he knew what I just had to read and wipe from my inbox." It was ROUGH.

Thankfully whoever sent those seems to have moved on from me, so I'm like... Not gonna bother turning off anon. And tbh if anyone wants to send me nice asks or prompts or questions for All Might (villain or hero) I'd welcome it, though might not answer them right away.

[colour-outside-the-liness]

Hey, I'm doing good too. Just normal amounts of stressful stuff right now. Just moved to a country I've never been to before but can't complain, things are not as hard as the last time I did this so. Thanks for asking! Yeah, I saw you posting about some pretty scary health issues before, I'm glad you came out of that alive and hope you're healthier now!

The nerve some people have! Haha I know I would be pissed if people were questioning my intelligence like that especially after a couple of drinks in haha. Though I do like taunting people when I play group games, I'll be like "don't need to try that hard guys, you're gonna lose anyway" just to mess with them or just call people sore losers if they accuse me of cheating haha (they're probably right on the accusations tho). People get real mad sometimes it's kinda funny. 😂

Omg literally laughed out loud reading this! Hahaha, how did you manage to fall over a road sign then end up in a ditch? lol omg hope you didn't get hurt too bad 😂 I was trying to downplay my drunken escapades but since you shared yours I should tell you my worst one:

I was at this summer street party at night and got drunk on something made out of tropical herbs and cachaça (which is about 48% alcohol), drank 3 and a half bottles of that like it was apple juice, made friends with a bunch of strangers in a bathroom queue (who tried to talk to me weeks later but I had no idea who they were), had to be held by my best friend while I peed (mostly missing the toilet), fell in the middle of the street and scraped my knee, threatened this boy who was helping me walk and told him not to try anything funny or I would beat him up, then dragged my friends to the beach and left them shortly after to go make out with my ex, came back with lipstick all over my mouth and chin and when my friends asked what I was doing I said I was just talking to my ex and they were like NO YOU WERE NOT, hahaha then I kissed all my girl friends on a dare and we danced under the full moon, then I told my best friend I had to puke so she took me to the ocean but I changed my mind and happened to step on a dead turtle on the way back and started crying bc of it, but last month my best friend told me it was a rock I had stepped on (I believed it was a dead turtle for 7 years!). Had the worst hangover of my life the next day. ✌️✨

Ah I'm happy you liked it! I've never listened to Six musical before but it sounds fun! I can see why you like it haha made me want to dance around my apartment 💃. And hey if liking musicals is your thing then it's great, I'm sure Hozier will understand if he's not your top artist of the year. 😋 Here's my "damie" Pinterest board if you or anyone else wants to check it out, totally recommend making one if you're a visual person like me!

https://pin.it/UcHVlkq

Oh I could talk about Dani and Jamie forever I think. I love the beast in the jungle speech too and it's so painful to watch, VP delivered that beautifully, but I have to admit I'm always a crying mess from episode 1 when older Jamie starts reciting that song about being sad while waiting for her lover to return, this show is fucking cruel I hate it and love it at the same time hahaha. Omg your mom 😂 but I mean it's truly an honor to be compared to someone like Dani, no? She's really great even if she needs a little help haha (don't we all).

Aaah you're amazing! Thank you so much, I'll read this pirate AU soon!

I used to draw a lot, really loved doing it when I was a kid as I said before, and all throughout adulthood too but I haven't done that in almost a year now bc I've got a bit of a case of burnout I guess, it just takes a lot of effort to do it when it shouldn't be like that at all. I used to do fanart too, for other fandoms. Even made one for Dani x Jamie but ended up not liking how it turned out haha. I've got a lot of respect for writers and fanfic writers also! Yall can make words make sense in really interesting and beautiful ways, build worlds so enthralling I can see them vividly in my head. Writing is such an incredibly fascinating skill to have! And I guess the most important thing is that we enjoy doing these things right? Even if we think we're not particularly good at it.

Anyway, have a lovely weekend! 👋✨

Good I'm glad you're doing great but sorry you're dealing with stressful stuff!! Hope living in a new country goes well for you I'm so jealous that you've lived in different countries I'd love to live somewhere else even if just for s few years!! Awwh thank you so much I definitely came out of it alive and am feeling so much better now thank you I mean I do some pretty ditzy things so when people say it to me it's pretty deserved sometimes, I'm secretly smart and people just don't expect it so I never mind too much haha I might have to start saying the things that you do and just taunting them over it I mean, I usually do win even when they make me answer different questions so I will definitely have to start saying things like that to them Haha I love that you're just like "yeah they're probably right in their accusations" I agree seeing how mad some people get over games and stuff is funny (it's me I'm people I hate loosing games depending on what it is and I am very competitive) So it was very dark and all we had for light was my roommates flashlight on her phone but while we were walking home a friend of ours that lived else where kept texting her to make sure we were still safe (my phone as dead at this point) so while she was texting him her flashlight was facing down and someone had moved this road sign to the footpath and it was on that sits on the floor so while I couldn't see it I walked into it and fell over it but while I feel I grabbed hold of it and flipped with it and fell in a ditch with it on top of me... I was fine and was just laid laughing while my friend looked down at me and in the most northern accent ever just said "get up you dickhead." and helped me off of the floor and then asked if I was okay... and I was so it was all good!! Haha 😂 I love this drunken story that sounds like one hell of a night and is a roller coaster from start to finish!! I'm sorry you thought you had stood on a dead turtle for 7 years though, someone really should've told you that it was just a rock!! But that sounds like my kind of night!! I love nights like that... stories that will last a life time... the only down side is the hangover... luckily I have only ever had one hang over in my life and it wasn't the morning after the road sign fiasco... I felt surprisingly good the morning after that haha 😂 It's such a good musical it's about Henry VIII wives and I just love everything to do with his wives and that musical is so much fun and actually gives a little insight to the lives the six Tudor queens had away from Henry and with him because at school we're mainly just taught about him which sucks!! I loved the Hozier song and am definitely gonna have to listen to more of his stuff!! I love musicals so much I mainly listen to musical soundtracks at the minute- usually, Legally Blonde and Six on repeat haha 😂 Ooo thank you I will definitely check out this Pinterest board thanks for sending it to me!! I could talk about them forever too... since watching Bly Manor my niece has been asking me so many questions about it and I am more than happy to talk to her about it haha!! The beast in the jungle speech just breaks my heart every time I relate to it so much and VP just delivers it so beautifully!! Oh yeah now I know at the beginning that it's older Jamie I am just a wreck the whole show is just so beautiful and heart breaking at the same time I LOVE IT!! Even though it makes me sob- I keep putting myself through it!! I mean, yeah I was happy that she said it Dani is great but it was the way she said it... my mum can be something else sometimes... she said she thought Dani was like me the first time she does the accent when she says "I've fallen quite in love with London" because I just randomly do accents a lot too but it was the way she was like "She needs help... but I like her she reminds me of you" I was just like... "Should I go get help?" I still don't know the answer to my question about if I need help or not but I mean I probably do need it You're welcome I really hope you like it!! It's a

great fic I love it!! Yeah I get that if stuff starts taking too much effort and burns you out you're not gonna wanna keep doing it so it's understandable that you stopped!! I think fan art is great and I really would love to be able to do it myself but I just don't have the skill it takes!! Awwh it's a shame you didn't like the Dani x Jamie one you did I would've loved to have seen it!! Honestly there are so many talented writers out there and when I read their fics I am just in awe of the worlds they have built and the stories they have created we are so blessed in this fandom to have so many amazing writers and so many amazing fics out there Oh yeah definitely its important to enjoy what you do!! I know I love writing and love writing fics for Dani and Jamie so I think I'll be doing it for a while even if I'm not great at it haha Awwh thank you very much I hope you have a great weekend too!! ☺️