#I am trying to actually live and not just muddle through the next 4 years in survival mode

[editorialsonlife]

Well

Welp, feeling like doing an update because there's been a lot going on to be honest. its one of those weird dichotomies where every day feels like an eternity and there's so much going on and then you look back and you're like oh, ok its just my brain making it difficult and making things take forever but anyway.

LOCKDOOOOOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNN

Lockdown life was good, apart from being thrust into it so suddenly dave left a banana on his desk. Wasn't great to come back to after 5 weeks out of the office - mummified mouldy banana!! Classic. We luckily got our first jab before lockdown started so that was good, and we were reasonably well stocked up on food and were generally a lot healthier this lockdown that last. honestly, there's a level of chill and serenity in lockdown that i just love. the ability to set my own schedule and only work the hours I actually work to get the job done? Amazing. getting 8.5 hours of sleep each night without having to wake to an alarm blaring? AMAZING. getting to go for walks every afternoon? SO FLIPPING GOOD. I love it so much, I really really do. I need this to be my life permanently.

WORK

Work is just ongoing and draining and honestly, coming back to the office was so fucking stressful and it was only one day. Being at home is just the fucking bomb. Pending home decisions, I wanna go contracting I think, but also ideally two part time contracts to have more flexibility? I dunno. You'd think a big 4 would provide variety but it really doesn't and honestly, with Richie leaving, wellington is just a sinking ship. Sean's off on parental leave, Kirstyn is down to four days a week, ben will be gone if he doesn't get promoted (and I don't think he will be tbh). Jack is just muddling along, Nigel wants to swap to consulting as well, Matt's going to be a shit leader in terms of bringing in work so it's just not going to work. and in our wider group it's going to get even more messy with heaps of the analysts leaving and a couple of senior hires too. so I think it's probably time to jump ship in general, pending the home stuff below. Also, coming back after a break again, I'm like, I don't actually like a lot of you? All the people I enjoy here are in other teams and groups, and I'll be sad to leave you all, but like, not enough to stay anyway lol.

Pending the home below, two options are to just going and get a job with a $30k payrise to make up for the maternity leave benefits I'm gunna leave behind when I leave this role - 18 weeks full pay, $100 a week for the first year back and a full year of maternity leave. It's basically 30k post tax which is a bit nuts to walk away from to be honest.

Otherwise the other option is to go contracting. Less security overall but holy shit so much money. If I went in as a project coordinator at the lowest rate to build up a bit of a portfolio I'd need to work 40 weeks of 40 hr weeks and Id basically match my current salary plus the lost family leave benefits and still qualify for govt maternity leave payments. Realistically I could go in as a project manager for $140 an hour ($60 more an hour than the above math) and absolutely smash it at that level as well so ya know, there's a bunch of other info. I like the idea of the flexibility of it and only having 6 months even if its a shitshow and beign able to walk away at the end of it. I really don't want to get a govt job and this is a v govt town which is fine but also, if I can avoid it that would be great. I just know I'm not gunna thrive in that environment.

Need to talk to Dave to get him across the line on the security issue part of that though. I've mostly come a long way in terms of my financial management (thanks YNAB) so I think he'd be ok with it mostly.

So there's a lot to toss up there because......

HOME

We got the reno plans done during lockdown, finally. which was super good. but holy fkn jesus $$$$$$ ++++++++++. The guy is coming around for the final quote on Thursday. We indicatively said $100k total because we're doing kitchen laundry bathroom and toilet. so only the most expensive rooms and when I was talking to him last week he said 'that might cover it' and they're seeing cost escalations of 7-10% a week which is just insane. we're not doing anything structural apart from putting in a cavity slider in the bathroom, and the quote they'll give us won't include flooring since they won't do it.

Meanwhile, the prefab homes I were looking at for our site were $425k fully done. Like, I'm not going to spend $130K on doing up my 1940s ex state house ya know? That's not good cost benefit ratio.

So depending on what that comes out at on thursday we'll be able to make some plans.

We also want to start trying for kids next year and need these renos done first - I am not having kids and no dishwasher lol.

Also we need bank financing so good to be in a permanent stable job for that application. the good thing is we have so much equity we know we can borrow whatever we need, I just don't want to spend that much money on it because it's fkn ridiculous. and if I'm going on maternity leave we need to be able to cover it all on dave's salary and whatever benefits I have as well so there;s a lot of financial planning and spreadsheeting going on at the moment lol. it's fab.

either way. we've got plenty of options up our sleeve. we've got friends who's brother owns a building company so we can talk to them, we've got the garage so we can get things prefabricated even if they're not installed til next year, Dave can get shit at cost through his work for whiteware, there;s plenty of things to like cost control we can do, we just need to know where we're starting from basically. thats the challenging part. but we'll figure it out, its just taking longer than I want it to basically.

We also planted up the vege garden for the spring/summer which was lovely, super jazzed about that. we've finally got the garden to a reasonably low maintenance level where everything is mostly under control and it's such a relief, honestly.

PERSONAL

Man what a shift to lockdown last year honestly. I think the last 8 weeks in particular has just been like, a massive reality check of how absolutely shit the last year was and how fucking glad I am to be rid of it. I spent a week absolutely spiralling 2 weeks ago now and honestly, I don't know how I lived in the state for more than a year. I actually don't know how I did it. and I could not be more glad that I'm finally on the other side of it, for the most part. There's still a bunch of other stuff to work through (hahahahahaha when is there not like damn) but fucking hell its nice to just not be anxious and nauseous and wound up constantly. life is actually accessible. miracle.

My workmate had his bebe - I went round and got newborn cuddles and was like, oh, is this what it is to be clucky? this is odd. so there's that as well. I think we'll probably start trying next year pending renos and jobs etc. If the renos can be done in jan I'll prob just stick it at the job to get the benefits but I dunno. it's a tough call to make really. we shall see. This all assumes we get knocked up without any issues which is questionable these days. I really want to feel healthier before getting pregnant as well, and part of that is losing weight. however, given discussing that is what triggered the spiral we're working on that one slowly.

Also, lets have a moment for counselling, because fkn bless anne and all her hard work honestly. I actually ended up emailing her being like, I;m losing my shit on the monday and then talked to her on thursday. And its so funny because it's such a counselling thing but I didn't realise until afterwards what she'd done but she was like you're clearly not doing well and then the night before dave got a fkn miserable migraine and he was up for like, 2 hrs powerchucking except he didn't make it to the bathroom in time so guess who was cleaning up vomit at 130am trying not to chuck herself but I digress. anyway, not doing well, couldn't even explain why, didn't even have words and super tired and she's like, what lynaire up to this week how's she going with izzy and chat about that and then be like how are you feeling about your body and then 5 more mins of chat about the cat and the chickens and then like bam hard question and then hows it going with x and y and z and its like, it wasn't til I was on my walk afterwards when I FINALLY started feeling marginally better I was like damn woman work your magic for figuring it out for me and helping me reregulate. all over the phone as well since we were still in lockdown. GREAT WORK FRIEND.

and then last week was like totally fucked theoretical discussion about religion and the role it's played in my life and fate vs free will and all this nutty shit but genuinely just a great discussion. She's the best and I love her. thank good for good counsellors. thank god I can afford to pay for it honestly.

Dave and I are just chugging along, god bless that man. I love him. its amazing. I miss having friends close by but understand why they had to move (boooooo f u house prices). Family is pretty chill, still not really talking to dave's parents which is nightmarish but we'll deal with that when we need to. gunna have to go and visit them at some point coz dave misses them and I feel for him, I really do. It's the whole boundaries renegotiation I went through with my family last year post wedding blow up and its just not a fun place to be. oh well. can't fix it for him but also I'm not putting up with that level of BS from either of our families once we have children. not gunna happen.

Either way, life is busy and full and fun and I'm enjoying it. Daylight savings starts this weekend too, its october next week WTF and I'm just waiting for 4pm to find out what's gunna happen to our girls trip. Clearly we cancelled our sept trip to christchurch and akaroa and hanmer springs so my covid travel curse continues. fkn ridic. Still dunno what we're gunna do with $2500 of flight credits coz if we get knocked up theres def no international trips happening any time soon.

thus concludes the almost 2000 word write up of life. hope you've enjoyed it. I'll throw up some pics in a separate post if people care about reno plans. such a good time!

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - A new pact

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 3 | Part 4 A new pact | Part 5 >

Disclaimer: some strong language

Author’s note: Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me? Enjoy another tooth achingly sweet fluff chapter my dear readers ❤️

Word count: 1.557

(Link to my Masterlist)

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers,

I’m pleased to inform you that I have passed the princess approval test. Teeth were brushed, laughter was about and she even made friends with a furry companion the size of an adult bear. All and all it was a lovely, sunny Sunday and I can’t wait to bring her along on my adventures of today, which will include.. sheep herding!

Now you may wonder why a news reporter would go sheep herding, but did you know that Jersey used to have its own, very unique Jersey sheep? Through some unfortunate neglect and misunderstanding these sheep went extinct and now their four or six-horned heads no longer graze about. But! As per usual, we humans found out a century or so later, that these sheep and their many horns were a blessing to keep the nature on the island healthy, and thus they were re-introduced. Albeit this time in the shape of a fewer horned, more human friendly Manx Loaghtan herd, whom we’ll be meeting today.

I cannot wait to see if my fellow Alice has a knack for befriending other furry creatures as well, so keep your horns and fingers crossed - we’re going on an adventure!

Ali

The jeep tumbled and shook as it drove over the bumpy country road, the habited world slowly coming back into view. A welcome view too, because we had a fun, but also truly exhausting day. Little Alice had drifted into a slumber, her small body leaning heavily into my chest as she clambered onto a pair of fresh wool socks she had received as her gift.

I could only imagine what she’d be dreaming of right now. Probably, it involved lots of chasing of and cuddling with sheep. I yawned and watched with blinking eyes as Maddie and Frank’s house finally came into view, the afternoon late when we finally arrived.

‘Thanks Jonny.’ I smiled at the friendly bearded man behind the steering wheel.

‘Sure thing Ali. It was fun having you two…’ He hesitated, seeing the toddler as she was still far away in dreamland. ‘..You know what. Let me help you out with that.’ He winked, quickly swinging open his door and moving to the other side of the jeep. I sighed a quiet thanks as he pulled open the door, effortlessly scooping up the small girl from my arms.

‘Up you go! Hello little Alice. Looks like you’re home!’ He cheered, putting the sleep muddled toddler on her legs. I slipped out of my seat and thanked him again, my arms swiftly lifting Alice back on my hip before she’d fall right asleep on the sidewalk.

‘Well have a good one! Looking forward to the article.’ Jonny said, brushing some of the toddler’s hair out of her face. A sweet gesture.

‘I’ll make sure to send you a copy. Good night Jonny.’ I waved him off and turned around, my eyes catching some movement a little distance away, at the opposite side of the street.

And not just any movement. It was a dumbstruck, frozen-in-place, Henry, his large blue eyes blinking at me. He was clearly confused, his eyes briefly slipping away from me to look at the truck as it drove off into the distance.

‘Hey!’ I waved, a bit unsure of what to do. I could only figure what he was thinking right now; a man, a kid?! That’s not really quite the image you had sketched the other day. Biting my bottom lip I quickly crossed the street, walking up to him, tired toddler snugly held onto my chest.

Henry remained quiet as his eyes now moved to the girl in my arms, her bright blue eyes giving him a studious glare.

‘Hey..’ I repeated, trying to grasp his attention, my smile a tad awkward as I pulled up the toddler a bit higher on my hip - she sure was getting heavy!

‘Hi.’ He swallowed, quickly hiding something behind his back.

‘You probably wonder what the heck is going on.’ I bit my lip, looking down at Alice, his response a mere nod of the head. ‘..Maddie, my friend, had to rush to the mainland to help out her mom, so I offered to help out and watch over her little princess.’

Alice looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with passion. ‘I’m no princess!’ She muttered. ‘I’m a sheep herder!’

Henry’s pensive face broke into a tender smile, watching the little girl as she snuggled back into my chest. ‘I see.’ He let out a quiet sigh. ‘Sorry..I didn’t mean to..bother you..I was just..-’

‘In the neighbourhood?’ I laughed, nodding at the house. ‘Come inside. I need to put this sheep herder down before I break my back.’

—

‘Alright. The sheep herding princess is..asleep!’ I cheered, plopping down on the couch next to Henry, our bellies filled with food and the evening young.

‘Good. I eh..wanted to show you something by the way...Here.’ Henry said, offering me a piece of paper, our fingertips touching as I took it from him, my nose immediately scrunching up when I noticed what it was.

The pact.

‘Oh. My. Word.’ I started laughing aloud, studying the hand drafted “contract”, both our names and signatures neatly placed at the bottom. ‘How old is this even?’ I gasped. ‘Pff..well..we were what..thirteen? Something like that? I just started senior school.’ ‘Dearness me. Oh, I actually saw your mom yesterday and she was being particularly vague; “You would never guess what Henry asked of me yesterday” she said, and then she added that you’d probably wish to show it yourself… Very..very mysterious.’

‘Well, I’m a mysterious man.’ Henry winked at me, reaching out for his glass of red wine and finishing the last sip.  

‘Hardly.’ I retorted, smiling. I watched him for a moment as he sat back in the soft couch, his large frame sporting a tight and comfy cable knit sweater. He looked so huggable. Ugh! What a teddybear of a man he was.

He raised a careful eyebrow, testing me. ‘Well, dear Ali, do indulge me.’  

‘You work crazy hard and live a crazy A-lister lifestyle. But all you really want..’ I pointed at the contract. ‘..is rainbow coloured dreams. And..’ I pointed at his finished glass of red wine, shrugging.  ‘..perhaps another glass of red wine.’

Our eyes met, our lips curled into masks of friendshiply banter, but the underlying tone clear. We had been sweethearts before. Many times actually, our paths having crossed in every stage throughout our lives. Sometimes just being tight knit friends. Sometimes more. Could we do it again?

‘I didn’t bring a rainbow coloured pen this time, though.’ Henry said, gesturing me to look at a paper that was hidden beneath the initial contract. I furrowed my brow and turned over the paper, finding a new contract.

A..a real marriage contract.

I blinked, studying the document, then looked over at Henry, my face stricken with confusion.

He smiled sweetly, reaching out his fingertips to caress my hand, the pads of his fingers callus and warm. ‘I know your previous lovers had some..commitment issues. So.’ He shrugged casually. ‘I just thought it better to show you I’m not one of them.’

‘Wh..’ My voice croaked, my throat suddenly very dry and my heart buzzing like a humming bird. ‘W-what?’

HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!!

‘Well, we pinky swore, remember?’ He chuckled. ‘And..of course I’ll let you off if you do not want to give me a shot. But..’ He sighed, smiling. ‘..it sure is funny how we keep running back into one another, right?’

I finally managed to get some of my breath back, the contracts now lowered on my lap, my eyes studying him, face serious.

‘Really? Is this a joke Henry? Tell me this is a joke.’

‘Do I look like I’m joking?’ He asked, looking indeed quite..serious. I swallowed and put the papers on the table, right in between our wine glasses, the air so very thick in my lungs.

‘Hmm..’ I licked my lips, curious and slightly unsure eyes looking back at Henry. ‘I don’t really believe in fairytales Hen.’ I shook my head, my mind reeling. 

‘You don’t have to. I’m being real Ali. I am.’

‘A contract doesn’t suddenly make a relationship work, Hen. You should know that better than anyone.’ I shook my head, wanting all of this to make sense. Why me? Why now? Why here? Why, why, why?!

‘I’m not asking you to sign it. I’m just showing you the commitment you seek. I want it Ali, I do.’

My heart was near jumping out of my chest as his words floated through the quiet living room, an open fire crackling somewhere in the background. I blinked again, still quite dumbstruck.

This was going way too fast. When I had said that the clock was ticking I didn’t mean; come make babies with me right this instant. Right? Right?! The past few years our only contact had been through over seas phone calls and Whatsapp messages. Heck. We hadn’t even kissed since we reacquainted two days ago and sleeping together? I think we hadn’t done that in..what? Ten years? 

My eyes moved over him, his body folded into the corner of the couch, large chest leaning forward, eyes hopeful. He was obviously trying to keep a friendly distance, though the wish to move closer was clear. Move closer to..to…You sighed, eyes now moving towards his lips. Those sweet, full cupid bowed lips.

‘You better kiss me real good, Cavill.’ You whispered, looking back up into his eyes.

It was an invitation he didn’t need to be given twice.

--

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[prettyboyspenceee]

Mutual

Request: “Heyyy I have a very angsty request if you’re down. Maybe the readers being accused for a crime and everyone’s confused and some people at the bau believe r did it but spencer is one of the only people who believe r didn’t. And r knows who did it but won’t tell anyone cause r doesn’t want the other person getting in trouble for it. Thank you sm! Sorry if that doesn’t make sense and thank you for taking the time to read this.” - @lavender-writer 

A/N: Hey! I feel like I’ve been on a writing streak. I’ve been feeling really inspired. Anyways, I kinda tweaked the concept a bit! I feel like the BAU would always stick up for the members of their team so in this fic they’re mostly confused. This is a long one so buckle up!

Description: When the Reader gets arrested by the DOJ when they’re suspected of murder the entire team races to clear their name. The reader knows who is framing them but won’t tell the team or the DOJ in fear of the team getting hurt. 

Character Appearances: Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia.

OC: Leo Walker, Agent Clarence

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds! Once again, I wouldn’t be here writing and I would’ve already written myself into the show

Female Reader! X Spencer Reid 

(Y/N) - Your Name 

(Y/L/N) - Your Last Name 

Word Count: 2,372

Posted: October 5th, 2019

---

You sat in interrogation room number 5, you remembered reading the room number before you were pushed in by Agent Clarence. 

“I’m going to ask you again Agent (Y/L/N), where were you on the night of October 24th?” Agent Clarence asked you with a straight face, “I’m not playing games, (Y/L/N).”

“Neither am I, Agent Clarence.” You said curtly. 

You were stonewalling him, “Bring the BAU in here. That is my only condition.” 

“No.” He said. And then you went quiet again. 

---

On the night of October 24th, you got a phone call. You knew it was coming, you had prepared for it for a good two years of your life. Even so, your blood ran cold. 

“Hey, sis! It’s Leo, Leo Walker” His voice was as cold as ice. 

You gulped, “What do you want, Leo?”

“Well, I want a lot of things. But you know the thing that I want the most?” He paused, “I want the life you took from me back.” He spat the words out and your throat went dry, “Something big is happening (Y/N) and if you tell anyone, especially that little team of yours, they’re dead. Blood will be on YOUR hands.” After the last sentence, he hung up.

That night you went straight home, not even bothering to tell the team you were leaving. The next week you were arrested. 

--- 

Spencer couldn’t think. The BAU had never seen him like this, they watched worriedly as he paced back in forth in the conference room. 

“Pretty boy, you need to calm down,” Derek said softly. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Derek! (Y/N) was just arrested and charged for not one murder, not two murders, but FIVE.” Spencer yelled. 

“Hotch, please. We have to go over there.” Spencer pleaded. His eyes were wild and his hair was a tangled mess. His clothes were wrinkled and it looked like he hadn’t slept in days. 

The entire team knew he cared deeply for (Y/N). It went deeper than his brotherly love for the rest of the team, they knew he was in love with her. 

JJ, Emily, and Penelope were always trying to convince him to ask her out, the day he actually plucked up the courage to, he got a call saying that she was arrested on the account for 5 murders. When he got that call, it was like the BAU came crashing down. 

“I’ll see what I can do, Spencer. JJ, stay with Spencer. Garcia, Prentiss, I need you both to look through every little piece of (Y/N)’s life with a fine-tooth comb. Morgan and Rossi will be with me making calls to every department, this is officially a case for the BAU. 

--- 

Before this mess, you were an agent with Sex Crimes. It was your second year with the unit when you were assigned your first undercover mission. You were always teased about looking younger than everyone thought you were, you were 22 at the time but everyone said you looked 16. You never thought that looking younger would help the Bureau. Your mission was to infiltrate a sex-trafficking ring involving foster parents and their foster kids. 

You were placed with the Walker family, they had 3 foster children and one biological son named Leo Walker. Leo was fifteen when you met him and when his parents and countless others were arrested, he blamed you for ruining his life.

When the case was closed it was considered classified. The sex trafficking ring had ties with the Italian Mafia and the Bureau was worried about the safety of the children involved as well as the agents involved, especially you. The Walker family was heavily associated with the Mafia which was something you found out when you were undercover, you weren’t scared at the time, just worried for the children. After your mission you were transferred to the BAU, you had been with the team for about four years now and you couldn’t be happier, you had found your family.

Even so, you felt bad for Leo. You felt bad that he blamed you for ruining his life but you couldn’t feel too bad knowing the countless number of lives you saved. 

You knew Leo would come back, you just didn’t know when. 

---

“Alright. We are heading downtown to review the interrogation. (Y/N) specifically asked ALL of us to be there, Agent Clarence only agreed to get her talking.” Hotch announced to the team.

The team nodded. They were trained to get into the heads of serial killers but they never thought that one day they would have to get into the head of one of their own. They were confused, stressed and tired. 

They all stood up at once and rushed to the SUVs. Hotch pulled Garcia aside, “Garcia, I need you to stay here. I want you to unseal file AXY-398, it was an undercover mission (Y/N) was working on before she was transferred here.” 

“On it, Sir.” The sound of her heels echoed through the hallways of the BAU was the only thing the team labeled as normal on a day like today. 

--- 

“Your team is here, Agent (Y/L/N).” Agent Clarence told you, “Now, I have all the evidence I need to convict you. Your DNA was left at all five crime scenes, your off duty weapon was used to shoot all five victims!” he hit his hand against the metal table that you were cuffed to, “I’m giving you one chance to explain yourself, now is the time.” 

You took a deep breath, “If you looked into my history, you would know that the weapon that killed all five victims was my weapon when I was with Sex Crimes. I changed it once I got to the BAU.” 

“Well, why is it still registered in your name?” Agent Clarence asked smugly. 

“Someone must’ve registered it in MY name,” you replied. 

--- 

Spencer perked up when you emphasized the word “my”. The rest of the team caught it too. You hadn’t emphasized any other words the entire time you had been held.

---

“Well, who would register it in your name, (Y/L/N)? Any ideas?” Agent Clarence asked sarcastically. 

You knew you were innocent but this man was getting on your last nerve, “Well it’s not like I have a BROTHER. Do I? Or did you forget to check?” 

Clarence rolled his eyes, “We looked in your file. We know you don’t have a brother.” 

You checked your watch, “Well you didn’t look hard enough.”

--- 

The team shared a look, “A brother?” Emily asked in a harsh whisper. 

“Spence, did (Y/N) ever mention having a brother?” JJ asked. 

“No. Never,” Spencer mumbled. 

All of a sudden they heard Hotch’s phone ring, “You’re on speaker, Garcia.” 

“Okay, so, when (Y/N) worked at Sex Crimes she was a huge part of an undercover mission. Her main role was to infiltrate sex-trafficking through the foster system. Since our girl looks like she’s 18 now, she looked 16 when she was 22. I just unsealed the file and it turns out she was placed with a family named the Walkers posing as a foster kid. They had three foster daughters and, oh-”

“What is it, Garcia?” JJ asked. 

“They had one biological son, Leo Walker.” 

“Is that it?” Spencer asked hurriedly.

“No. The Walkers had ties with the Italian Mafia. That’s why the case was sealed, it was for the safety of (Y/N) and the children involved. (Y/N) wasn’t allowed to talk about it. Ever.” 

--- 

“With all due respect, Agent Clarence, you have no motive and no witnesses.” (Y/N) said. You were getting tired, it was nearing hour 8 of your interrogation and you only got one break. You hoped the team got your message, you hoped they were safe. 

The door swung open and it was Hotch, “I have an order from the director. Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is innocent. If you looked deeper into her file you would see that she was involved in an undercover operation involving the Italian Mafia. I hope that you're competent enough to make the connection that Agent (Y/L/N) is being framed. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from your director.” 

Agent Clarence eyed Hotch wondering if he should challenge him, he thought about it for a minute and then he uncuffed your hands. “Have a good night, Agent Clarence!” You gave him a sarcastic smile and your best wave. Hotch’s lips twitched into a small smile which you thought was equivalent to a laugh. 

--- 

You were greeted with bone-crushing hugs as you stepped into the BAU, except Spencer. He was distant and tense, you noticed how he could barely look at you.

“Spence. Can you just talk to me?” You pleaded.

“No, (Y/N)! I can’t just talk to you. You never talked to me!” He yelled.

The team wasn’t surprised by his outburst, he had been through so much over the years but when something happened to you it’s like he couldn’t think. His brain was muddled by every memory of you. 

You were speechless. After 4 years at the BAU, you and Spencer had gotten extremely close and he had never spoken to you that way. You felt defeated but you had to gather yourself, you had to catch Leo. 

You turned to Hotch, “I know where Leo is, I know how he thinks. I need to find him, you can be my backup but I have to go alone. He wants me and he won’t stop until he gets me. I’m his endgame.”

Immediate shouts of protests came from the team, “Absolutely not, Little Mama. You go in, we go in with you.” 

“No, Derek! He said he would kill you all if you knew. We have an advantage here. He doesn’t know that we all know, we have to use that,” you turned to Hotch, “Please Hotch, I’ve been preparing this for years now. I can’t have any more blood on my hands.”

Hotch looked at the team and then back at you, “I’ll get SWAT on the line, no one does anything without my signal.” 

--- 

You drove alone to your foster house in Alexandria, you took a deep breath, this was it. The house was abandoned but you knew Leo was there because the curtains in his old bedroom were pulled back.

You kept your hand on your gun and you had your ankle holster in case something went wrong. You opened the door and there he was, sitting in the middle of the family room. 

“I was wondering what took you so long. How did you get out?” Leo asked with a smug smile. 

“That’s not important. What do you want Leo?” 

“You.” He replied.

“Well, you have me. Now what?” 

“Give me your gun. Don’t try anything, I have eyes everywhere.” 

You slid your gun across the dirty wood floor, “Good. Take a seat, (Y/N). We have a lot of catching up to do.” He pointed to an old wooden chair. 

You sat down and your hands were immediately being taped up behind the chair but you stood still, he wouldn’t hurt you, not yet at least. Leo wanted you to talk and he wasn’t going to kill you before you did.

“It was so easy to frame you, (Y/N). I kept the hairbrush you used when you stayed here. At first it was because I was lonely, but like you, it always came in handy.”

You said nothing, you were profiling him. Leo was obsessive, he wouldn’t stop until he had you dead.

“Ah. Paralyzed by fear? Not so tough now.” He giggled like a schoolboy, “I’m going to ask you a series of questions and once we’re done, I’m going to kill you.”

You nodded wordlessly, using that as a distraction so you could start trying to break the tape on your hands. 

---

Spencer was anxious, he couldn’t stand that you were helpless with this maniac. He wished that he was in your place, he wished that you were safe. 

“Hey Kid, we’re going to get her back. When we do, you can tell her how you feel.” Rossi said as he grabbed Spencer’s shoulder. 

Spencer turned to Rossi, “My feelings? What are you talking about?” Spencer never told anyone about his feelings for (Y/N) because he didn’t want her finding out. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, it’s a look I’ve seen on many men before you, it’s the same way Will looks at JJ, it’s the same way Derek looks at Savannah. You love her.” 

---

“Why did you ruin my life?” Leo asked.

“It wasn’t my choice, Leo. I checked on you as often as I could, but life got in the way.” You said softly. 

Leo paused to think, “Are you in love?” 

“Yes,” you answered immediately. You thought of Spencer, the man who had captured your heart for the past 4 years. 

“With who?” Leo asked, “Consider this your last words because, after this, we’re done.” 

Leo turned his back to you and you finally had a chance. You pulled your hands free as silently as you could and grabbed your gun from your ankle holster and hid it underneath your arm.

“Who are you in love with, (Y/N)?” Leo pulled out your old gun, the one used to kill the first five victims. 

“S-Spencer Reid.” You said. You watched as readied his finger against the trigger. Before he even pulled the trigger a shot rang out through the house. As Leo fell, you saw SWAT and the BAU storm through the house. You grabbed your sidearm and holstered it. 

“(Y/N)!” 

You turned and you faced Spencer. He pulled you into a hug, “Did you mean it?” He mumbled into your hair. 

“Mean what, Spence?” You said pulling back from the hug. 

“Do you love me?” 

“I do. I’ve loved you for the past 4 years.” You smiled with tears in your eyes. 

“I loved you ever since the day I’ve met you,” Spencer replied. 

“It’s good to know that the feeling is mutual,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, it is.”

---

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Being Simon

Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count:  8493

Summary:  Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.

Read on AO3

AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies​ as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3

World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers. 

I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!

———————————————

You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.

My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.

“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”

“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”

“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”

She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”

She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.

“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”

Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.

The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”

“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.

My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”

“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”

My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”

“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”

Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”

“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”

A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.

“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”

“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”

“Uh, could we reschedule?”

“No, we can’t.”

I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”

“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”

I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.

Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).

I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”

I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”

“You poor baby.”

I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”

She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”

I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Stop groaning and tell me.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.

“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”

Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”

“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”

A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.

———————————————

“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”

I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.

“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”

She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”

Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”

“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”

She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”

I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.

“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”

“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”

“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”

“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”

“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”

Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”

A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”

She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”

“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”

Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”

I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”

“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words.  “You fucked up!”

A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”

She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!

Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.

“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”

“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I’m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”

She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”

“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”

Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”

Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.

I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.

“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”

“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”

I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”

“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”

“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”

I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”

“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”

She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”

“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”

“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”

She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”

Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.

I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.

“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)

Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.

“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”

I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.

“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”

He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”

I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!”

Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”

Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”

“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”

“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”

Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”

My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”

“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”

My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.

“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”

“Gotchu. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.

———————————————

Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!

Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.

The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”

He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”

I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”

His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”

He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”

Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.

“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”

“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”

“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”

“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my  friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”

“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”

Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”

My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.

“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong. 

“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....

Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.

My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.

“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”

“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”

I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”

I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”

I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”

Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”

My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)

We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.

“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”

“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”

“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”

I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory. 

Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing,  hair touching his neck.

“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”

“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”

I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.

“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”

I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”

He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your  ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”

“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”

Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”

My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”

He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”

“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”

“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.

“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”

“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.

He rolls his eyes,  again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”

My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”

“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”

The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”

“Of course she did.”

“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”

Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”

I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”

“What’ve I been doing?!”

“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”

Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful,  awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.

“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.

“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”

That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”

“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”

I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.

“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”

“Tell her that.”

I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”

My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”

“Exactly.”

I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.

We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.

“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”

“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”

“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”

“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”

Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”

I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”

His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”

Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.

I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”

“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”

“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”

I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.

“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”

Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”

The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”

Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.

Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”

“Mine is secure.”

“But not happy.”

He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”

“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”

“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”

Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”

I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”

“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”

He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.

“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.

“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”

I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”

Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”

“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.

“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”

Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”

“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”

I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like,  really pretty.

“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.

“Yeah?”

Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”

My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.

“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”

I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes  me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.

———————————————

I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”

Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”

Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”

“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”

She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”

We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.

As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”

I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful  I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”

She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”

Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.

Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.

“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Here, let me help.”

I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”

“Right, yeah, work...”

Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face. 

Fuck.

———————————————

AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!

[soundwavereporting]

day 4 of @prowlweek! today’s prompt was ‘sensory’. 

it’s pre-cosmos/prowl/soundwave! if you’re inclined to read everything preceding this, you can do so here. if you don’t want to? the tl;dr is that prowl ended up on sanctuary station and he, cosmos, and soundwave are in the maddeningly slow process of getting together. 

this fic features absolutely terrible decisions, the most important of which is trying to make important life choices while drinking. anyone still uses the citrus scale, this fic is the cybertronian equivalent of a lime.

five half-lies and one full truth

1. 

If anyone asked (and he were inclined to actually answer) Soundwave would report that he didn’t remember who made the first move. He supposed, lying in a tangle of cables and the scent of ozone, he would have to tell Cosmos the truth. They both would. 

The truth was Prowl, optic bright with copper-infused engex and a sudden burst of bravery that would have put Optimus Prime to shame, had leaned over the desk and kissed him square on the mouth.

“Do you think…”

Soundwave had been in the process of taking another sip of engex, but as Prowl spoke, he paused leaving the glass frozen halfway between the desk and his mouth.

Prowl’s mind was…duller than usual. Toned down. And a little muddled.

But Soundwave still liked it.

Soundwave waited as Prowl mulled over his next words. It wasn’t impolite to take a drink when someone was thinking, was it?

Soundwave wasn’t sure. He could count the number of times he’d been a social drinker on one servo, and each and every instance he had been expected to sit on the other side of a desk and agree with whenever Ratbat said. That kind of social drinking wasn’t particularly conducive to actually drinking.

Hm.

“Things could have ended up differently, if I were you and you were me?”

“Yes.” A simple answer, though he knew that wasn’t the question Prowl meant to ask.

Prowl groaned and took another swig of engex. Soundwave could see the engex crackling in his mind. Watching it was…

Soundwave looked away.  

“If I were a Decepticon…” Prowl glared at his engex. “The war would’ve been over four million years ago.”

Soundwave nodded. He didn’t think Prowl actually wanted him to agree: calling someone like Prowl a Decepticon was a surefire way to get a punch in the face.

“That’s all I wanted to do,” Prowl muttered. “End the war. Save lives. Preferably both.”

Before Soundwave could respond, Prowl started talking again.

“Sorry. I’m not good company when I’m overcharged, am I.”

It wasn’t a question.

Soundwave looked up to watch the stormy clouds circling his head. Prowl frowned, and the scar on the bridge of his nose—

Soundwave heard his fans click on.

He looked away.

“I do not mind. Your—”

“My mind is nice,” Prowl said, though there was no malice in his words. He sounded confused, as though he had never heard those words applied to him before. That was strange—Soundwave knew for a fact that during their time as a gestalt, the Constructicons paid his mind compliments. Vocally and often.

Prowl finished off the glass and set it on Soundwave’s desk.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“My mind.” Prowl rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. Soundwave forced himself to meet Prowl’s optic. “Why do you like it so much?”

“I cannot tell you,” Soundwave said. “You know that.”

“But you can show me.”

2.

Prowl was the one who made the first move, but it was Soundwave who knocked the desk over. He had a moment to feel equal parts stupidly embarrassed and foolishly emotional, but any misgivings were quickly quashed by the feeling of Prowl’s mouth on his own.

They fell, tangled, to the floor. Prowl’s engine kicked up a notch, drowning out the sound of Soundwave’s gasp.

And now he was thinking about the desk. Soundwave pulled away to follow Prowl’s gaze—he was looking at the overturned furniture, thinking about flipping tables of all things, how Tumbler used to joke about bolting his desk down except Prowl was never sure if it was a joke or not and—

Soundwave kissed him again.

The distraction worked, but now Prowl was thinking about him, which was a wholly intimidating thought. Without a direct connection (which Soundwave really, really wanted, and was beginning to suspect Prowl really, really wanted as well) the beautiful lines and angles were fuzzy, muddled by noise and engex.

Soundwave loved them

He canceled the battle protocols that had activated when Prowl lunged and was treated to the sight of Prowl perched on top of him. One hand traced the edges of his tape deck—did he know it was sensitive, or was it just something to touch?

Soundwave imagined Prowl’s hand in him. Touching circuits no mech outside of his cassettes were supposed to see, much less touch, tracing the contours of his docking ports.

He shuddered, and sat up to mouth the cabling on Prowl’s neck and was rewarded with a gasp that felt…oddly deliberate. Genuine, but unsurprised.

He blinked.

Number cruncher floated across both their minds.

Were it not for the hot flash of red embarrassment that followed the phrase, Soundwave would never have considered it an insult.

Oh.

“You know what I am going to do,” Soundwave mumbled into Prowl’s neck. “You can predict it.”

“Within a—” Prowl yelped. He hadn’t seen Soundwave lift a hand to caress the sensory panels affixed to his back, Soundwave realized. “Reasonable margin of error.”

“If you can see it.”Soundwave felt the paneling twitch under his hand. Prowl nodded, and Soundwave tasted the sensation of being touched in the back of his throat. “What am I going to do next?”

“Uh.” Again, Soundwave felt the weight of Prowl’s stare come to rest on his frame.

Soundwave hoped he would remember this in the morning. The line between lowered inhibitions and stupid drunk was a thin one, but neither he nor Prowl had ingested enough engex to cross it.

Probably.

“Um.”

Soundwave traced the length of the sensors on Prowl’s back, an action that elicited a hastily-silenced moan. “Do you really want a comprehensive breakdown of your potential actions?”

“Maybe later.” Soundwave drank in the sharp certainty of Prowl’s mind. He’d never given Soundwave explicit permission to snoop, but at this particular moment…Prowl didn’t seem to care. He wondered, for a moment, if Prowl could become to his anchor.

His Ravage.

His Megatron.

He had hoped Cosmos might be willing to accept that role, but Cosmos was…ubiquitous. Cosmos was everywhere, and nowhere, too easily able to slip between Soundwave’s fingers.  

Prowl was clarity in a sea of static. And Cosmos was the static, cocooning him and caressing his spark, fierce and gentle and—

Cosmos was going to hate them.

Or worse…he would be hurt.

Soundwave kissed the edge of Prowl’s jaw and wished could stop thinking. Just for a moment.

They should stop. Right now. Stop and pull away and come back to this when Cosmos was around, and then they could be sensible about this.

Whatever was going on between them, Soundwave didn’t want to ruin it. Prowl didn’t want to ruin it.

None of them wanted to ruin it, and Soundwave and Prowl were about to do just that.

3.

“My turn,” Prowl whispered, and raised a brow as Soundwave obediently leaned back, feeling the chill of unheated metal against his plating.

“Told you to stay out of my head,” Prowl muttered, though his optic widened when Soundwave smiled.

“You don’t mean it. Not now.”

“Tomorrow, when I do,” Prowl leaned forward until their breaths came together in a dizzying, tantalizing mix of near-sensory overload. “What then?”

“Your thoughts will be your own.”

Prowl was far too heavy for Soundwave to even consider attempting to sit up, but he had no real inclination to try.

“We should—”

Soundwave heard a click and realized with a jolt of embarrassment that it had been his own interface protocols coming online. Prowl blinked, but didn’t seem particularly dissuaded.

He tried again.

“We should stop?”

Prowl froze.

“Cosmos,” was all Soundwave said, and Prowl nodded. But he didn’t move to get up, and Soundwave didn’t push the issue. Soundwave manually canceled the protocols and thanked the stars his cables hadn’t already unspooled—manually coaxing them back into his frame might have been slightly more embarrassment than he could handle.

“If you are willing,” Prowl said slowly. “I would still like to know how you see things.”

A little too quickly, Soundwave nodded.

4.

“…oh.”

Soundwave felt his lips twitch. Prowl had gone still on top of him as his mind struggled to process the new wave of sensory data. Soundwave didn’t dare move or touch Prowl for fear of eliciting more sensation than his processor could comfortably handle.

“It’s a lot.”

Prowl steadied himself on Soundwave’s chassis, and nodded. Soundwave peeled back another layer of firewalls.

“It is.”  

The tenuous connection between them was just enough for Soundwave to get a glance at the blurry lines and numbers. Idly, Soundwave tugged at the cable connecting him to Prowl—as much as he would have relished the chance to be invited into Prowl’s mind and spend a few blissful minutes immersed in angles and pure data, this was for Prowl.

The very notion of someone (Prowl) wanting to see in his mind had Soundwave feeling a unique mixture of elation and nauseating anxiety. His fuel tank cramped painfully at the mere notion of rejection, but Prowl—

“Shh.” More gently than he thought Prowl—anyone, save for perhaps Ravage—capable of, Prowl touched the spot on his armor just above his fuel tank. “I understand. I think.”

Immediately, Soundwave relaxed. Several layers of stress-induced color that Soundwave had forgotten about faded. As he looked up at Prowl, the world became dizzyingly clear. Soundwave allowed Prowl to bypass every firewall save for the ones keeping guard over his vital functions. Mentally, he lay back and watched Prowl peruse his datafiles. Amusement zipped across their connection as he realized Prowl was going through his most recent memories, lingering over his reaction to Prowl predicting Soundwave’s movements.

Prowl frowned.

The colors snapped back into existence.

“I’m not going to be Megatron,” Prowl snapped.

5.

“It is not like that.” But Prowl knew that, didn’t he. He was in Soundwave’s head. At that moment, Prowl knew him better than any mech ever had. Except—

“Stop thinking about him.”

“Apologies.” But he hadn’t yanked Soundwave’s cable out of his waist port. Desperately, Soundwave clung to that fact.

“I’m not here to be your leader,” Prowl snapped, saying the word leader like someone might say the word incurable, late-stage cosmic rust. “No. Full stop.”

“Not like that.” But they all had been leaders, hadn’t they? Ravage had led him from the Dead End, showed him a new way of existing that wasn’t just survival. And Megatron had led him far, far beyond what he once would have deemed acceptable. “It helps,” Soundwave offered. “To have someone to focus on. Someone strong. Unique.”

“You said you would stay out of my head.” Prowl’s voice was quiet.

“And I will.”

To Soundwave, the truth smelled like ozone. And Prowl knew it.

Prowl snorted.

“You really like my mind, don’t you.”

Dumbly, Soundwave nodded.

+1

Soundwave felt Prowl give in.

He watched as Prowl leaned forward to rest his elbows on the glass of Soundwave’s chest. Not for the first time, Soundwave was glad the cassettes were out for the night and wouldn’t be expecting him back at the habsuite.

“We shouldn’t have done this.” Prowl made no move to get up. Soundwave watched as he wrapped the cable around his finger, then let it unwind. “Not without…”

Prowl gave up all pretense of respectability and slumped against Soundwave.

“This is hard,”  Prowl mumbled into Soundwave’s shoulder. Soundwave hummed an acknowledgement. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I.”

He didn’t feel particularly better after admitting it. Enough of the engex had worn off that they were beginning to feel tired—and more than a little awkward.

He wondered how many times they would have to do this dance of engex and lowered inhibitions, only to be countered by the uncomfortable reality of sobriety. It wasn’t that getting drunk with Prowl wasn’t nice (in more ways than one) but…

Soundwave moved to sit up. Prowl groaned his assent and began to slide off, but Soundwave shook his head.

Prowl was very nearly too big to comfortably sit in Soundwave’s lap.

He didn’t mind.

“Tell me,” Soundwave said, and Prowl looked up. “What am I going to do next?”

“Oh.” Prowl blinked, registering the question Soundwave had pushed over their connection. “Oh. Er, yes. I suppose.”

He tasted like gritty engex.

But Prowl liked gritty engex, and Soundwave liked Prowl, so Soundwave supposed it was alright.

[thepropertylovers]

Feature Friday with Christopher Wiacek

Happy Friday! How are you feeling this week? It doesn’t really feel like a Friday to us, since we’re home everyday and the kiddos are out of school, but we’re doing our best to celebrate it anyway with music and biscuits to start the weekend off right. Hope you’re doing the best you can, friend, and enjoy Christopher’s Feature Friday, where shares his perspective on life, loss, and realizing where he truly belongs. Check out what we mean below…

On his love for the Brits: I think my favorite place that I’ve ever traveled to would have to be London, England. I’ve been there twice, once in 2010 and the other in 2016. I’m a massive Harry Potter fan, so a lot of the second trip was based around seeing Cursed Child on the West End (which my friend and I bought tickets to before even buying flights/a place to stay). I’ve always found British things to be weirdly exotic to me, and the history behind much of the culture is what draws me to it. 

On growing up and a sense of longing: I grew up in the suburbs of Syracuse, NY.  Overall, Syracuse is actually relatively conservative, with the exception of the communities that I grew up with. I was a part of the theater community growing up, so most of the people I interacted with from a young age were pretty liberal overall, which translates to my views today. Most of my family and friends have all been super nurturing and supportive, with the exception of a few here and there. 

I went to a pretty large high school (there were over 3,000 kids overall and 900+ seniors in my graduating class!). It’s true what they say though- in this period of my life, high school seems like a million lifetimes in the past. I was a part of the chorus/theater crowd in high school. I had a few good friends, but ultimately never really felt like I was meant to stay in Syracuse for the rest of my life. I had that feeling from a young age, and I’ve always had my eyes on the big city. I fell in love with acting and the arts, and after graduating high school, I went to SUNY Fredonia, which I currently hold a Bachelor's in Fine Art in Acting. Once I graduated, I worked my way up the corporate latter at Wegmans (an amazing supermarket chain in the Northeast), and eventually got burned out by retail. Throughout all of this, I was auditioning, doing shows and trying to live out my best creative life while also paying those adult bills that seem to build up. 

On the importance of community: I think that growing up in Syracuse was very much a melting pot of many different environments for me. I was always extremely curious about everything during my childhood and had an intense imagination. That still is true today, although my imagination/curious nature has been a bit affected by reality. I also grew up doing competitive gymnastics, so I learned discipline at a young age from that. That was four nights a week during the year and on top of regular school. To round it out, I was raised Catholic, though I don’t really identify as a Catholic anymore. I think the importance of community was imbedded in me while growing up in multiple different ways. I always felt like I needed to be a part of something bigger than I was. Growing up with doing gymnastics, theater,  and other activities that kept me active really shaped me on who I am today. 

On one interesting fact: I am ambidextrous and use both my hands equally for daily tasks. My dad is the same way! Sometimes it can get a little annoying because I oftentimes have to stop and think for a split second which hand to use that will have a better result of what I am doing. It’s fun though because my mind works in weird ways where I’m not necessarily bound by one certain way of doing something. 

On what he loves about himself: My persistence. Over the past eight months, I’ve learned to love this part of myself even more than I ever have before. I think I inherit this from my parents, because of my ability to pick myself up off the ground and keep moving forward no matter what has been a driving force for me. I’ve had this drive for practically my whole life, in college getting papers/projects finished, in life, getting DIY projects completed, etc. Overall, the will to keep moving forward no matter what is one thing I really do love about myself. 

“I’ve learned though, that the people who truly love and care about you will stick by your side no matter who you love or who you’re attracted to. At the end of the day, all they care about is your happiness, and that’s how it should be.”

On what brings him joy: This answer has changed so much over the past few years. At first, it was acting/performing (which still brings me a lot of joy when I get to do it), then it was doing DIY projects (I love redoing furniture, building things and HGTV is my JAM).  But as I get older, the one thing that honestly brings me the most joy is my family. I absolutely love my parents and my siblings. We aren’t together as a whole too often, because we all live in different parts of the country currently, but when we are together, it's amazing. 

On coming out: This answer is a bit scary and muddled because I was out to my friends long before I told anyone else. I came out to my family though when I was 26, so not too long ago. I still lived at home at the time and was trying to save up to eventually get my own place. I told my sister first because from what I can even remember about this night, I was at my exes Formal event for his fraternity. I had messaged her and told her over a text,  and she was immediately non-judgmental. To bring it back, I had started seeing my now ex about 4 months earlier and started to feel the pressure to come out because I was getting tired of lying, sneaking and overall just not being truthful to people. I’m sure we all go through this at some point, but I was reaching a breaking point. My story is a bit of a cop-out, to be honest in my opinion. The story goes that I was driving the 45 min to Cornell’s campus to see the guy I had been dating. It was pretty late at night, probably around 11:30 pm, and I got pulled over for speeding. In short, I got a ticket in a small town that no one apart from the people I was going to see knew where I was. I started to get nervous because I was still on my parents' car insurance at the time. They would know eventually that I got a ticket because the bill would increase and they’d be notified etc etc. I decided to use the ticket as my way to do it, and beat them to the punch. I came home the next day and both my parents were in the kitchen. I basically told them that I had gotten a ticket, and they asked why I was in Dryden (the small town) at 11:30 pm on a weeknight. I told them I was seeing someone who went to Cornell, and when they asked who, I told them his name. The initial response was not what I expected…I think the stereotype is that your mom will take it better than your dad, but this is not the case with me. My mom didn’t take it so well, and my dad told me I could date whoever I wanted.  I was a bit surprised, but overall a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. 

On feeling more comfortable over time: My friends had all practically known for a while and were all pretty supportive when I told them. I was also in a relationship at the time too, so I at least had my now ex to turn to and didn’t really care what people thought anymore. My older brother and my younger sister were both actually really cool about it. My parents overall were okay with it in time, but at first, they didn’t really understand. It has taken a while for them to be comfortable with the fact, but I think just talking to them is what helped.  I also came out to one of my good friends in a text message, and his reply was one of the nicest and funniest things. I screen-shotted the message and still have it in my favorited photos on my phone. I don’t think I necessarily faced any harsh backlash, other than just feeling a little uncomfortable talking about all of that stuff with my parents.  On a daily basis, we basically have to come out every time we meet someone new. Luckily for me now, I live in the most liberal/accepting city ever (NYC!), so practically everyone is gay haha. I’m a lot more comfortable with everything now, and it honestly just took some time. 

On learning not to care what others think: I think during that whole process (which is still sort of an ongoing process for me), I’ve learned that other people's opinions just don’t matter at the end of the day. I’ve stopped caring so much about my appearance and how I was acting to “appease the people”, or adhere to the “straight norms” of society. I also have never been single and out until the last 8 months, so it’s been a bit lonely, scary and unnerving at times. I’ve learned though, that the people who truly love and care about you will stick by your side no matter who you love or who you’re attracted to. At the end of the day, all they care about is your happiness, and that’s how it should be. 

On his advice to LGBTQ+ youth: I would tell today’s LGBTQ youth that everything you hear about “it gets better” can be true. Understanding your own identity or feelings can be hard enough without all the fear and anxiety that comes with thinking that you won’t be accepted by the people you care most about. I totally get that, because I lived in that world so so long. It’s one of the reasons why I didn’t come out for so long.  It’s also important to realize that you’re not alone. It may feel that way, but there are amazing resources, organizations, and materials that positively represent the LGBTQ community that you can use to educate the people who care the most about you. If someone truly cares about you and your happiness, they shouldn’t care who you love at the end of the day. Love is love. It’s more important now that ever in our society to be really aware of all of the homophobia, transphobia, and prejudices that are out there, and fight for what you believe in. It may be super scary to come out, but once you do, there’s a magical world that will embrace you. You’ll have a glow-up and the weight of everything will finally start to ease.  

On taking it “one day at a time”: I think that this past summer, the trifecta of obstacles hit me at the same time. I lost my boyfriend, my home and my job, all in a matter of five days. Mind you, this was also in the midst of NYC World Pride. To go onto more detail, I had to find a new place to live because my roommate was not re-signing the lease and nor was I on the last apartment that we shared. It wasn’t a great living situation, and it became official at this time when the lease renewal papers arrived. On top of this, I was dumped by my now ex of almost three years, seemingly out of the blue, or at least it seemed that way to me. It was a massive upheaval in my life, seeing as though I was dumped right before World Pride, and all of our plans sort of blew up. The relationship was very codependent on both sides, so figuring out what I was to do next really threw me for a loop. I had to start my life over from rock bottom and navigate the world with practically an emotional hole blown through me. I was much closer to his family than he was to mine, mainly because of the distance. After trying to cope with this breakup that following weekend and taking a trip home to Syracuse to spend time with family/friends, I came back to NYC on Monday only to work a full day and then get laid off at 4:00 pm. I think at this point, I sort of shut down internally and the old Chris was so beaten down by everything that he was “past a point of no return” and sort of died inside. 

I had lost all of the main pillars of my life, and everything completely had fallen apart in such a short time period. To basically lose the group of people that I considered something like a second family was devastating. Once this happened, I decided to go home to my actual family in Syracuse for a few weeks to take a break from the city and recuperate. In this time, I mainly focused on my body and working out/trying to take care of myself and not fall even deeper into the abyss of it all. While away in Syracuse, I was officially broken up with via text message from the relationship. I had found also out my ex was on Grindr basically a day after dumping me (and from what I’ve found out since he had been on it multiple times during the course of our monogamous relationship too…).  

During this period, I basically started to have a mental breakdown, because I had no idea what to do next. On top of dealing with the normal everyday stresses of living in NYC, I was now having to deal with a really painful breakup, needing to find a place to live AND finding a new job. There were a lot of stressors nagging at me, mainly my source of income. To even find a new place, I had to first find a job that would make me financially stable and form some sort of budget. There were so many pieces of the puzzle that needed to be filled in, that it was honestly mind-boggling.  

It’s been about 8 months now since all of this happened, and it’s been a long and hard road. I had my “Britney” moment and shaved my head because I was sick of dealing with my hair (this actually turned out kind of cool and created a whole new look for myself). I went platinum around Thanksgiving and have kept it this way since. I also had applied to over 75 jobs over the course of the summer and went on countless interviews and phone interviews. I was super aggressive in job hunting and had finally procured a great job at a tech firm in the Financial District towards the end of September. As for the apartment woes, I couch crashed on some close college friends' couches for a few weeks. After that, I found a temporary cheap room in a tiny Brooklyn apartment that had no door, no closet (A challenge, I know, but I made it work!), and roommates I did not know. Money was tight, but I had to do what I had to do to survive in order to stay in the city. I now am living with two great friends in upper Manhattan in a really cute apartment that has a door AND a closet). So, life is looking up! 

For the relationship side of things… It’s been a long road of healing. I must have read every single self-help book in Barnes and Noble, in addition to seeking out the advice of friends and family to talk about it. I even wrote a letter to my ex’s mom. Being that I was pretty close with his family throughout the relationship, I thought it was a respectful thing to do to send a “thank you” letter for all of the things that they did for me while I was dating her son. To be completely honest, I thought I would have heard back with some sort of response or well wishes for the future. Instead, it’s been a cold turkey moment, and I never heard back… nor have I heard from anyone in that whole community that I spent the better part of three years with. I guess it goes to show you that the people who really care about you will reach out, and the ones that don’t care…. won't. Ultimately, I’ve never been out and single at the same time, so it’s been quite the turbulent journey that I’ve had to overcome. I’m still healing, but I’ve pretty much adhered to the “one day at a time” method. 

On his biggest inspiration: My biggest inspiration would have to be my parents. Both of them have persevered over the years in multiple different ways, and have always provided for my siblings and I. They have both faced extreme challenges, but have really set a great example for us growing up. I hope I get to be the type of parents they are to me to my future children. 

On looking ahead: I think in five years, I hope to still have a stable job, a beautiful home and a relationship that fosters into a family of my own. I think I mainly hope to just be happy, regardless of the financial situation I am in. 

On what really matters: Life comes at you fast, and you have to be ready to meet it with perseverance and grace. Otherwise, if you don’t, you can get easily eaten up along the way and lose yourself to the madness of it all.  Stay true to who you are, and trust in the universe that everything always happens for a reason. 

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Cupid’s Mark

Dean x Reader

A/N: This is for @spnfanficpond @mrswhozeewhatsis Galentine’s Day Exchange! I got to write this for @purpleskiesandcherrypies <3 Hope you enjoy it!!

Summary: Dean Winchester literally bumped into the girl of his dreams, but just as Cupid shot his arrow at them, the girl moved. Now, on February 14th, he’s got another chance to make these two crazy kids fall in love.

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Oral (giving and receiving), unprotected sex, Impala sex, 18+ (please respect this age request!)

Word Count: 5.6K

Everything Tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87  // @lefthologramdeer  //  @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle //  @his-paradox //  @letsby

Supernatural Tags: @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @grace-for-sale // @geeksareunique // @tiquismiquis // @mrsbarnes-rogers  // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @wayward-gypsy  // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy  // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @foreverwayward // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98  // @lyoly  // @a–1–1–3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff //  @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @flamencodiva // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all ​

“Aw, come on, really?” Cupid moaned and looked at the ledger again. “Dean Winchester? I’ve tried… I really have! But—but he’s so stubborn!”

Cupid pouted and sighed to Heaven. “How am I supposed to get him to actually follow his heart?” Shaking his head, he thought long and hard. Finally, he realized that the only way to get close enough was to infiltrate Dean’s favorite establishment. Lucky for him, there were several other matches he needed to make there. He took his orders that came straight from upstairs, made the arrangements and went about scoping out the local bar in Lebanon where he was going to have to nudge Dean Winchester’s true soulmate to start working at.

Finding Dan’s bar was a stroke of luck. It was Dean’s favorite place to go to after returning from a hunt or just a good place to kick back and have a beer when Sam was grating on his nerves. The best part was, it wasn’t too far from home.

Right around the middle of January, he noticed a new face on staff. She was only there a few nights a week, but she was cute and easily caught Dean’s eye. From the shadows, Cupid saw his chance, and took aim, hitting Dean Winchester squarely in the heart. The girl, however, bobbed and weaved at the last second, untouched by the arrow. Cupid watched in horror as she gave Dean a sweet smile but kept on moving.

Oh, fiddlesticks! Cupid wailed internally, wringing his proverbial hands over what to do…

  Dean was writhing in his sleep again. The dream came, as it normally did, and he was helpless to stop it. It was almost every night now, and it was getting tiresome. Dean wasn’t sleeping, his waking thoughts were consumed, and when he did manage to close his eyes and rest his brain, it plagued him with dreams that he rather not experience any more.

For nearly three weeks straight, he had the same thoughts, day in and day out, and they were worse than the normal horror show that erupted in his head. These were not the day and night dreams of a man who had been to Hell, fought monsters and dealt with the Devil himself. These were thoughts of a man in love. For Dean Winchester, that was even scarier.

It had started innocently enough. A simple stop at his favorite bar in town had put her directly in his path. Dean had done nothing more than accidentally brush against her shoulder while she was carrying a try of drinks to a table. When they had briefly collided, she gracefully kept the tray’s balance, turned at him to wink and said, “Sorry, sugar. Didn’t see ya there.”

Dean had been momentarily left incapacitated by her simple action. Sure, she was beautiful—he’d seen more than his share of beautiful women—but this woman was an angel. A REAL angel; not one of the dickless wonders he was used to dealing with.

He stood, dumbfounded, as she walked away from him, her hips swaying with purpose as she delivered her table’s order. It took a minute or two of Sam tugging on his shirt to get his attention because she had all of it. Finally, Dean acknowledged his brother, nodding emphatically at whatever he was saying, and allowed himself to be pulled from the bar when their six-packs had been packaged up to go.

Since then, the girl had firmly taken root in his mind. He found himself going back to that bar to grab a drink, or pick up a bottle of whatever, just so he could see her. The next night, the dreams started. It wasn’t just a sex dream either, it was a full-on Dean Winchester patented fantasy special; lacey lingerie, handcuffs, whipped cream, a riding crop and multiple orgasms followed by… cuddling and declarations of love. When he woke, he was beyond thankful that he was in his own room at the bunker. Waking up with that big of a hardon in a motel room with his brother would have defined the word awkward.

When he saw her again after that, any chance of talking to her went out the window. Dean Winchester, Ladies Man and Deadly Hunter, became a bumbling fool. From then on, he would find himself hesitating outside of her bar, afraid to see her face to face, unsure if he would be able to hide this crazy, intense affection and attraction he had for her.

Three weeks since they bumped shoulders. Three weeks since he had been unable to make it happen with any other women; but not for the lack of trying. He didn’t even know the woman’s name, but any other woman he tried to spend an evening with was ruined by the image of this unknown waitress who dominated him in all sorts of ways.

  February 14th

Normally that meant Dean’s favorite holiday, Valentine’s Day. This year, he kicked off the fourteenth with a book of Celtic Mythology at the table in the library, trying to concentrate on the text in front of him.

“Happy Unattached Drifter Christmas,” Sam teased as he joined Dean at the table, dropping his books with a ‘thud’ startling his brother to look up.

“Jesus,” Dean moaned and looked up accusingly. “Give a guy a heart attack why don’t you. I’m getting old, you know. My heart can’t take that crap.”

Sam rolled his eyes and flipped open his book. “Find anything?” he motioned towards Deans text with his chin.

“Nah, just a bunch of stuff we already know. You?”

“Not yet. We’ve about exhausted our end. I’ll make a few calls, see what I can dig up. You outta here soon?”

“To where?” Dean asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Sam snorted a laugh. “Uh, to find some poor woman to torture for a night?”

“Bite me, alright? Women love me.”

“Mhm, that’s why you’ve been a grumpy bastard, right? Cause all those girls you’ve been seeing…. Ohhhh right. There haven’t been any.”

“I hate you.”

“Seriously, Dean. Just go to the damn bar and ask her out. Three weeks of this has been enough.”

“Three weeks, it hasn’t been thre—” Dean stopped and did some calculations in his head before speaking again. “Three weeks, four days and about five hours…”

Sam raised his expression, his jaw slacked open in disbelief. “You’re right. It hasn’t been three weeks, it’s been longer!” he shook his head, the smile only growing and deepening his dimples. “I’ve never seen you like this over a girl you haven’t even talked to.”

“I’ve talked to her!” he said, then relented and changed his answer. “Kinda.”

“Dude, you turn into Porky Pig when you get around her,” Sam teased and mocked Dean in his best Porky impression. “We-we-we-well, hi there! Ai-ai-ain’t you pr-pr-pretty!”

“I really, really, hate you,” Dean admonished, standing up from the table. “You know what? Fine. I’m going over there, and I’m going to ask her out. Happy?”

Sam nodded. “Yes. If it gets you out of this weird funk you’ve been living in, I will be eternally happy to see you get laid.”

“Why couldn’t I have been an only child?” he mumbled to himself, raising his eyes to the ceiling and slightly shaking his head. Dean turned to leave the room, and without looking back called out “Don’t wait up!”

  The Impala rolled to a stop along the curb across the street from the local bar where she worked. He could hear the music from inside spilling out onto the street. He paused before walking in and took in a deep breath. Looking down at his clothes, he wondered if he should have changed first. Dean was never the type to worry too much about his wardrobe, but suddenly he was concerned he looked like he just got off from his shift at the mill and not like a guy on a mission to win over a girl.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he asked himself, shaking off the self-doubt that muddled around in his head. “Let’s do this.”

The bar was filled with local faces, some he recognized from around town, others he didn’t, but all of them were there to drink and have a good time for Valentine’s Day. Dean scanned the room, hoping to find her in the crowd, but there was no sign of her; just various couples making out, flirting, or having a few drinks. Walking over to the bar, he kept his eyes peeled, but there was no trace of his crush. When he finally reached the bar through the crowd, he flagged down the bartender.

“Dan! Double shot of whiskey and whatever you got on tap,” he called out over the noise.

The bartender nodded in acknowledgment and went about getting his drinks. Dean turned to face the room, leaning back against the old mahogany wood and continued to watch the sea of faces for the one he was looking for.

The jukebox faded out one song, and before the next queued up, a burst of noise came from the back corner of the bar, where the ‘Employees Only’ door lived. A crash of broken glass and shouts ensued and when Dean’s attention went that way, he finally caught sight of her.

“Whoa! Watch it, lady!” one of the guys roared, causing the entire bar to stop and take notice.

Dean immediately cut through the gathering of people who stopped and watched the scene play out. The waitress he’d been looking for was scrambling to clean up a gigantic mess. He didn’t see it happen, but he was at her side in seconds, trying to make room and help her clean up the shards of glass.

Dean took her hands in his and saw they had a few small cuts. “Hey, leave it for a second, alright,” he said, soft enough for only her to hear. That’s when she made eye contact with him. A slow, grateful smile unfurled on her face as she saw him there.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get your hands looked at, make sure you’re alright,” Dean said, gingerly taking her palms. He didn’t even realize that the usual bout of nerves he had around her had faded completely. The moment she had made eye contact with him while hovering over broken glass, all of that was gone and he was completely at ease.

Making physical contact with her, after all this time dreaming about it, made everything else fall away. The noise and swell of the music now behind him, Dean couldn’t hear anything as the entirety of his focus was on her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, turning her palms over to check the backs of her hands.

“(Y/N),” she mumbled, “thank you for your concern, sugar, but I’m okay. I just need to clean this up.”

“I’ll take care of it, you go back to the office, or wherever and get yourself a couple band aids.”

“It’s fine, I—”

“Please, I insist,” Dean said, giving her his softest gaze and smile.

The bartender sidled up along side them and began sweeping the glass. “Go, (Y/N), he’s right, a couple of those are gonna be bleeders.”

“Come on, I’ll go with you. I’m great at first aid,” he said proudly, immediately regretting it.

“Alright,” she relented and walked back through the ‘Employees Only’ door as Dean followed.

  From the recesses of the corner, Cupid smiled. He sighed with relief that this time, he had hit his secondary target, perfectly.

I just feel bad I made her drop tray, he thought as he scratched Dean Winchester’s and (Y/F/N Y/L/N)’s from his ledger. He clutched to his chest, grinning warmly, just as they disappeared into the back room together.

Once it closed, he closed his eyes dreamily and patted himself on the back for a job well done before disappearing to return to Heaven.

   “Thanks for the assist out there,” you said, as he pulled back the wrapping and laid the band aid across the worst of the cuts.

“It’s my pleasure. There, all done,” he smiled after applying the last one. His hand lingered on yours. I hope he never removes it, you thought, and felt your body flash warm as he held your hand.

“Thank you. I really could have managed it, but I sure do appreciate your kindness,” you said, gently placing your other hand on his knee.

He blushed a little and seemed to get slightly nervous. “I’m, uh, Dean, by the way.”

“Dean… yes. I’ve seen you around here a lot. Its nice to finally have a name for the very handsome face.”

And what a face he had. You knew who he was, you had known who he was the first night you bumped into each other. You thought by the way he had looked at you, he might try to flirt, but he never did. In fact, he would avoid you when he could, though his eyes never seemed to be able to leave you. You certainly didn’t mind it. But as the weeks went on, he never uttered more than a few stumbling words at you before grabbing his beer and running out the door.

The door to the office opened, and Dan came in, shaking his head when he saw the band aids on your hands. “Look, (Y/N), why don’t you head home. I called Trish, she’s been wanting the extra shift, and I’d rather you just call it a night.”

“I’m fine to keep working, Dan. Honest.”

“You’ll still get your usual pay and cut of tips, no worries, okay?”

“Dan—”

“Please, (Y/N), I insist. Go home for tonight, come back for your shift tomorrow.”

You sighed and relented. “Fine. I’ll go home.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Dean’s face fall in disappointment, which made you wonder if maybe he did like you, after all.

Dan said goodnight, shook Dean’s hand and told him that the drinks he had ordered were on the house. Once he left the room and closed the door, you stood up from the desk chair and grabbed your personal belongings from the bottom drawer.

“Well, this night took a turn,” you laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it.

Dean shifted nervously on his feet. “I’d say. Its early though. If you didn’t want to go home, I could, maybe… do you need a ride or anything? Are you hungry? Did you eat anything? We can go grab some food, or—”

“Dean,” you jumped in, “if you’re trying to ask me out, the answer is yes.” Your heart was pounding out of your chest, but you did your best to remain calm. You’d been hoping for this for a while and now that it was happening, you found yourself also a pile of nerves.

“Really? That’s great,” he replied and smiled sheepishly. “That’s really, really awesome. I know its last minute and all—”

“That’s okay,” you said, jumping in. “Honestly, the second I looked up and saw you sitting there, I just… I don’t know… immediately wanted to come over and say hi.”

“But then pool table guy bumped you, and—”

“No, he didn’t actually. That was all me being a klutz. I saw you standing at the bar and I froze. Then, it was weird, actually, I felt like I got hit by something and it just startled me. So much so that I dropped the tray.”

You laughed, and thought Dean would find you completely insane, but he simply nodded. “I think I know what you mean.”

“So, where should we go?” you asked, anxious to get out of there and be somewhere quiet with him. “Everywhere decent is going to be packed to capacity.”

Dean thought for a second. “How do you feel about maybe, possibly, being a little cold. But I promise it will be worth it.”

“I have a coat, I can tolerate cold,” you grinned. When Dean put out his hand, you took it and he entwined his fingers with yours, taking special care not to aggravate your cuts.

  Thirty minutes and a stop at the Gas ‘n Sip later, Dean was directing his car into a wide-open field a few miles out of town. The February air was cold, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. From the trunk, Dean brought out two large blankets and laid one on the ground right near the front of the car. He motioned for you to sit before going to the back seat to retrieve the bag from the gas station.

“Alright,” he said, sitting down on the blanket. “Have a seat.”

You did and within a moment of sitting beside him, he took the second blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, then his own. From inside his jacket pocket, he produced a flask and handed it to you.

“You just happened to have two big, fluffy blankets in your trunk. Sure you weren’t planning this?”

“I have, but not this, exactly,” he flashed you a sexy smile and wiggled his eye brows playfully. “My brother and I travel a lot for work. So, I keep them there in case we gotta crash in the car.” Dean rifled through the plastic bag and removed two Hostess pies, two bags of chips and other assorted snacks. “Sorry its not a proper dinner, but that’s what I get for asking you out last minute.”

You shrugged. “Hey man, I was pulling a double shift and closing down the bar on Valentine’s day. I’ll take this, happily. Especially if I get to hang out with you.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “I did come to the bar to ask you out, but I certainly didn’t think we’d do it tonight. Can’t say I’m upset with how things turned out though.”

“Me either,” you breathed and raised his flask before taking a swig and handing it back. The liquor burned on your throat, but it felt nice and warm going down. “So, not to make this awkward or anything, but why did it take you so long to ask me out?”

“You made me nervous,” he admitted bashfully. “There was just something about you I couldn’t get out of my head. Then when I’d see you…” he shrugged.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

“You’ve been on my mind a lot, lately. And that’s not usual for me by the way, especially with some guy I don’t know.” You paused and looked up at the sky that was dotted with thousands of stars and a waning moon. You could feel his eyes on you, and as much as you wanted to gaze into them, you were afraid to look and just kept babbling. “I get hit on by some creeper every night, and every night, I wished it was you coming in to see me.”

Dean closed his eyes and snorted a laugh. “If you had any idea how many times I came in, specifically to see you…”

“So, what you’re saying is, we’ve both liked each other for a while, but each have been too scared to make a move?”

“Seems that way,” he said, pulled from the flask and handed it back to you.

“Now, its Valentine’s Day, of all days, and here we are. Sitting under the stars with a picnic and a flask.”

“What can I say, my timing is amazing,” he teased. Dean let his eyes wander over your face, and when he put an arm around your shoulders, you immediately leaned into him.

You sighed contently against the stranger you’d been crushing on for weeks. “I’m suddenly not nervous anymore.” You felt Dean’s body shift against yours, it stiffened then relaxed again, his grip on your shoulder tighter.

“I’m not either,” he rasped. You felt him shift again. Dean loosened his arm around your shoulders, and gingerly guided your face up towards his with his other hand. “For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like an idiot around you. And, I’d really like to kiss you now…”

He left you speechless. The whole night left you completely, utterly, speechless. For almost a month, you had seen his face in the bar on countless occasions. A few quick conversations here and there, made you interested in him, but the way he was making you feel in that moment, didn’t seem possible to happen in such a short amount of time.

Dean took your silence into another moment of consideration. You wanted to kiss him, needed to, so you did. You tilted your head, rested your hand against his knee, then sat up more and pressed your lips to his.

God he’s soft, you thought as you kissed him, So deliciously, soft.

Taking it slow, enjoying the parting and coming back together of your lips. His hands were tentative but started to explore other parts of your body as the comingling of your mouths continued. Your heart began to beat faster the further his hand traveled up your leg stretched out before you. When Dean pulled back from you and sat up on his knees, you didn’t hesitate to reposition yourself, for him to lay you down.

Dean did just that, then took the blanket and tossed it around his shoulders like a cape, before leaning down and hovering over you. You thought you could hear his heart pounding, just as loudly as yours. His eyes frantically scanned over your features before he caressed the side of your face.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for you forever,” he mumbled. Before you could respond, he dove back to your lips and kissed you.

He kissed you like no one ever had before. It was soft and moist, and the longer it continued, the heavier you both were breathing. The February air didn’t phase you one bit, because the moment his tongue broke through, pairing with yours, a depth of heat rose and filled the space you shared under the blanket with him. Dean moaned into your mouth, his hips twitching as your leg curled up around his thighs. Your arms were wrapped up around him, his were moving all over your body.

“Jesus,” he breathed, parting for a moment of air. “What the Hell…”

“What? Is everything okay?” you were trying to catch your own breath, but worried he was regretful.

“No, its just… where did this come from?”

“I don’t know. Chalk it up to Valentine’s Day?”

Dean chuckled. “Sweetheart, it could be the middle of July or the dead of winter, and I’d still want to carry you to the backseat of my car and tear your clothes off right now.”

You smirked and raised a challenging brow. “So, what’s stopping you?”

“Good God, where have you been all my life?” he asked, scrambling to sitting back up on his knees. “But, I mean, we just met. I don’t want to rush—”

You got up and met his eye line as you sat up on your knees. “Have you ever just felt like something was right? Meant to be? That’s how I feel right now and, you know what, who knows or cares why.”

Dean exhaled and nodded slowly. “You’re absolutely right.”

He stood and reached a hand down to help you up. When you were on your feet, Dean kissed you again. The kissing was nice, he was the best you’d ever had the pleasure of enjoying, but you wanted more. You needed more. Taking his bottom lip between yours, you released it slowly, grazing your teeth as you did, which seemed to trigger something in him.

Dean took your hand and hurriedly pulled you around to the passenger side of the car, not forgetting to take the one blanket with him. Minutes later you were straddling his lap in the backseat of his Impala, as his lips covered the swell of your breasts and his hands drew down the silk cup of your bra. Your hands were around the back of his neck, pressing his head into your chest; your head rolling back as his lips clamped down around your nipple.

You could feel his erection growing through his jeans, the harder it pressed into your thigh, the more you wanted to feel it inside you. Your ache for him was maddening, and you were starting to feel a bit lightheaded from his touch. It felt crazy, absolutely insane in fact, to desire someone you barely knew, the way you did. Yet…

“Dean,” you moaned in a delicate whisper.

He didn’t raise his head but trailed his lips across your chest and back up to your neck. Dean gripped your neck, pulling it down so his mouth was on your ear. “Say my name again and tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to see you,” you rasped and ran your hands down his chest, stopping at his belt buckle. You pulled your head back to catch his gaze. His green eyes full of lust, his nostrils flaring slightly in excited anticipation of what was to come. He moved his hips and pushed down his jeans, allowing his cock to spring free. “I want to taste you,” you purred and stood up as best you could and worked at removing your own jeans. “Then, I want to feel you inside me… Dean.” His name fell from your lips with a breathy expulsion.

Bending over, you brought your lips to the tip of his dick as you let your clothes slip to the floor of the car. Once free of any restraints, the apex of your thighs craved the feeling of him slipping deep inside you. But first, you wanted him to want you just as badly. He tried to guide you back to his lap, but you wanted to taste him first. The urge to be with him, touch every square inch of him just drove you to act on instinct. No doubt or hesitation crept in. You wanted him, all of him, and from the way he was digging his fingers into your legs, and the way his eyes were devouring you, you thought he felt the same way.

Your mouth covered as much as of him as it could. Dean snaked his hand around to the inside of your thighs and reached up into your folds, making your grip on his shaft tighten in response.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his mouth slacked open as his head rolled back against the seat.

His fingers worked you over, slowly at first, but as your hips moved involuntarily along with his motion, he went faster. Lasting for only another moment, you felt the first flutters of your climax and abruptly pulled his hand from you.

“Not yet,” you commanded, releasing his dick with a pop of your lips.

You hovered back over his lap, meaning to tease him, but Dean would have no teasing. He took your hips and positioned himself, easily sliding up into your entrance, but not quite filling you. He was gentle, and though you were dazed with how much you wanted him, the way he was making you feel was euphoric. It wasn’t just the sensation of the sex, it was the intimacy that you felt as he held your gaze. It was the way his hands caressed the skin on your thighs, up your sides, cupping your breasts, then moving back down the way he came as you rocked against him.

Biting on his lower lip, he thrusted up into you, hitting your hilt and making you inhale sharply. Your breath released in a quiver, making him grin a satisfied smirk. It only last, a minute, as you moved your hips not just back and forth, but side to side. The friction against your clit was enough to finally break your resolve, and your walls to flutter around him.

“Jesu—” your breath faltered as your climax ruptured around him. It didn’t phase Dean’s penetrating thrusts as he bounced you on his lap, and you gripped his shoulders holding on for dear life.

Between his movements and your orgasm, you felt lightheaded and cried his name in a raspy moan. Dean pushed you into him, his head buried in your chest as he quickly lifted you off him before his own climax expelled all over his abdomen. He held you that way until he was able to get his breathing under control, but even once he did, he didn’t release you right away.

You peeled yourself from him, sitting back just enough to take his face in your hands and turn it up to yours.

“That was intense,” you said, your voice soft and dreamy. You felt like you were under a spell, under his spell. A sensation you never had before and thought you could live in forever.

“Very,” he replied, and ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip. “Are you alright?”

“Better than,” you smiled, and gently kissed his lips.

Dean reached over and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around you both as you climbed off his lap and snuggled into his side.

“Cold?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing the top of your head.

“No, not even a little.” You drew the blanket tighter around you, enjoying the cocoon it created for you and Dean.

There was a brief, awkward silence as you just starred at each other, unsure of what to say. Its not that there were questions rolling around in your head, or that you were wondering what came next. There was an unfamiliar level of certainty that what had just transpired meant something, more than just a one-night stand on a very triggering holiday.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not exactly sure how to ask this, but—”

“You wanna know what this means?”

“No. It doesn’t matter what it means… because it meant something. At least that’s how I feel. You don’t just meet someone and have that intense of a, um…” you felt your skin flash hot with a moment of embarrassment “encounter, without it meaning something. But that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Oh,” he said and looked away for a moment, his expression thoughtful in contemplation. “What did you want to ask then?”

“The snacks. We left them outside and honestly, I’m starving. Maybe we should head back to my place. I could cook us something… maybe we could watch a movie or just have sex again?”

“Or all three?”

“Yeah, that works, too,” you laughed and leaned forward to retrieve your pants from the floor.

Once you were both properly clothed again, Dean grabbed the remains of the picnic and threw it in the back seat while you gazed up at the stars. Just above the horizon, a few meteors streaked across the sky. You felt a soft smile touch your lips, not just because of the celestial show before you, but because of who you were sharing it with.

“Some night, huh?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind and guiding you to lean back into him.

“Yeah, craziest night of my life, honestly.”

“Do you mind a little crazy every now and again?”

“Depends. Good crazy, or bad crazy?”

“What if I said a little of both?”

“You’re being cryptic, but I kinda dig it. I could handle both, why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged and looked up at the stars. “I’d like to see you, more. A lot more, actually. But my life… it gets—”

“Crazy?”

He chuckled and brushed a piece of hair the February breeze brought onto your face. “That’s putting it mildly, but yeah. Think that’s something you’d be up for?”

You thought about what he said and realized that the only answer in your head was yes. Yes, you think you would be up for just about anything if he was with you. Your first date was a testament to that.

“If that,” you motioned towards the backseat “was just the beginning of this? Darlin’ I think I could handle just about anything.”

  Dean kissed her, his heart was already experiencing a level of attachment to a woman he didn’t think would ever be meant for him. There was no rhyme or reason to it. It was as if Cupid himself put a spell over them. Even if the happy little angel did have a hand in making it happen, Dean was still pretty damn happy. So much, in fact, he would forgive the interference.

Opening the car door for (Y/N), he waited until she was settled before kneeling down at the open door.

“(Y/N), I want you to know that it did mean something to me, too. I don’t know where this goes, what really happens next. But I don’t care. Sometimes life is too damn short to question everything.” He shrugged, took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“Amen to that… Shit. I don’t even know your last name,” she laughed and seemed slightly embarrassed.

“Winchester. Yours?”

“(Y/L/N),” she smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Well alright, Ms. (Y/L/N). Shall we go?”

“Yes, I’m starving!”

He stood up, leaned in to kiss her lips again before closing the door and walking around to get in behind the wheel. Before he got in, he looked back up to the sky and smiled.

“Goodbye Unattached Drifter Christmas… hello Saint Valentine…” the corner of his mouth cocked up into a smirk and he jumped into the car, ready to whisk his new girl off to continue their date.

[unfolded73]

How Do We Get Back (7/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

Rated explicit. This chapter 3.6k words.  (ao3)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

_____________________________________

Chapter 7

“We’ve reached our cruising altitude and the captain has turned off the fasten seat-belt sign, which means you are free to get up and move about the cabin. However…”

Patrick pressed his forehead against the airplane window, staring down into the darkness. He couldn’t make anything out but he kept looking, almost as if he’d see a sign out there somewhere, something to tell him what to do. He continued to ignore the constant pressure behind his eyes; Patrick feared what his seat mates would think of him if he suddenly started to cry right there in seat 27F. He wasn’t a crier, but he felt very much like crying right now.

He’d been turning his time with David Rose over and over in his mind, looking at it from all angles, trying to figure out what it was about David that has attracted him so intensely. Patrick hadn’t understood his sexual orientation long enough to even begin to think if he had a type, or if David Rose was it. Thinking back over the boys and men in his past, he tried to see them through this new filter. There was Eric, his high school teammate — and yes, Dennis had been right, Patrick had been a little bit in love with him. Eric was tall with dark hair like David, so there was another data point. Going back even farther, there had been a deaf boy at camp when Patrick was fourteen. Patrick had never met anyone who couldn’t hear before, and had been mesmerized, watching the boy’s hands move as he signed. At night Patrick had lain in his bunk, practicing how to sign ‘Hi, I’m Patrick,’ spelling out the letters of his name over and over. Then when he’d finally met the boy, all the signing he’d learned had gone out the window. Instead of signing ‘Hi, I’m Patrick,’ he’d just waved like an idiot and run away. Maybe he’d had a crush then too.

The idea of picking apart every male friendship he’d ever had, every actor he’d ever admired, every Olympic swimmer he’d ever looked at, trying to decode if there had been sexual attraction there — it was exhausting. Okay, maybe the Olympic swimmer thing didn’t take much sleuthing, but the rest of it was exhausting. Besides, this wasn’t about his past. It wasn’t really even about David Rose, even though David was occupying most of his thoughts at the moment. It was about his future. It was about living the rest of his life as who he really was.

And thinking about that made him think about Rachel and how he was going to break her heart, and then he wanted to cry again.

The flight to Toronto from Newark wasn’t long, but the drive to Oak Grove once Patrick had retrieved his car from long-term parking was. It was already late, and Patrick’s head was muddled with emotional and physical exhaustion, so he stopped at the first Tim Horton’s off the highway and bought a large coffee.

An hour outside of his hometown, buzzing from the caffeine, a song he’d been listening to a lot when he’d first moved to Schitt’s Creek came up on shuffle, and Patrick started to cry. He wept for the way he’d felt then, before the bloom was off the rose, when he was so happy to have done something just for himself for once. He wept for all the lost years of his teens and twenties, when he didn’t understand who he was attracted to, didn’t understand why things with Rachel never seemed right. He wept for the marriage he’d stumbled into when a part of him knew it was a mistake.

By the time he pulled into his parking space, it was almost one in the morning and he’d calmed down. He unlocked his apartment door carefully, setting his suitcase down and going to check the bedroom. Rachel lay on her side of the bed, her breathing slow and even. The thought of climbing into bed with her when she was completely unaware of what he’d done, it felt like one more violation of her trust. He couldn’t do it. Patrick closed the door with a soft click and once he was ready for bed, fetched a spare blanket from the hall closet and settled down on the sofa. When he finally managed to soothe himself to sleep, it was by imagining he was in David’s bed in New York with its soft sheets and the smell of expensive aftershave on the pillows.

~*~

Moira Rose swept into the dining room at ten past the hour, one of her full, curly-haired wigs on her head. “David, I’m so glad you could join us for the evening repast!”

David always felt a bit like a teenager when he sat at his parents’ dining room table. “You insisted I come. You said, ‘I won’t accept no for an answer’!” He’d almost said no anyway; the idea of dragging himself out to his parents’ house in the suburbs had sounded like torture when Moira had called. But the guilt trip his mother would have given him had he refused was just a different, more insidious kind of torture.

Seating herself at her accustomed place, Moira gave him a knowing smile, like they were in on some joke together. “Well, I wanted to see everyone before Alexis leaves on her next adventure, and before I leave for Vancouver to shoot that episode of Arrow.”

“It’s one episode, it’s not like you’re going to be gone that long,” David said, spooning ravioli onto his plate.

“What even is Arrow, anyway?” Alexis asked.

“It’s a superhero show,” David said, giving her a surreptitious eye roll. “On the CW.”

“Eww.”

“Now now, kids, don’t knock your mother’s latest job,” their father said. “She’s apparently going to be a very important villain.”

“And there’s a chance the character could recur,” Moira said.

“Oh, goodie,” Alexis replied sarcastically, then pulled her phone out and started looking at it.

Moira swallowed a prodigious sip from her martini glass, and David took a moment to hope that she wasn’t mixing booze with pills. “Besides,” she stage-whispered, looking around as if for eavesdroppers, “apparently we need the money.”

David blinked at her. “What are you talking about? We have plenty of money.”

“Moira, we don’t need to talk about that now, sweetheart,” Johnny said. “Would someone please pass the salad?”

“So, David,” Alexis said, looking up from her phone and seemingly oblivious to the discussion of money problems. “What’s happening with that cute little button-faced guy who was at your place last night?”

He glared at Alexis for bringing his love life up in front of their parents. He’d been trying to think about anything other than Patrick, and Alexis talking about him wasn’t helping. “Nothing.”

“He seemed really nice, David,” she said, continuing her prodding.

“He was nice.” Patrick might have been the nicest person David had ever met, and David cringed when he thought about how they’d parted ways. It had just broken his heart a tiny bit to be unexpectedly confronted with the fact that Patrick was leaving New York. In that moment, he’d been completely unable to deal.

“So what’s going on there?”

“Nothing. He went back to Canada, where he lives.” He took a bite of salad, trying to affect an air of not-caring.

Alexis pouted. “Too bad.”

“Oh, are you having a long-distance love affair, David?” Moira asked. She was over-enunciating more than usual, and David estimated based on her speech pattern that she was on her third martini.

“No,” he said, the phrase ‘love affair’ making him physically recoil. He tried to think of something else to talk about.

“Speaking of our mother country,” Moira said, “did you hear about Gloria Gregson?”

“Who’s Gloria Gregson?” Alexis asked.

Moira scoffed. “Only one of the most decorated soap opera actresses of my generation. Anyway, the word on the street is that she’s given away all of her money and joined a cult.” Moira looked very smug about this fact.

“Is it me, or have I been hearing a lot in the news about cults lately?” David asked. Everyone else at the table shrugged. He tried to remember what he’d seen on the news a few days ago, but came up blank.

“Sold any paintings lately, David?” Johnny asked.

“No,” David said again, focusing on his plate.

“Well, keep reaching, son, I’m sure things will perk up.”

“Hoooow can they, John, when we can’t afford to pay for his patrons anymore?” Moira slurred.

“Moira!” Johnny said, his eyes very wide.

David dropped his fork with a clatter. “What? What is she talking about?”

“No no no, n— nothing,” his father stuttered. “She’s confused.”

David turned to his mother. “Mom?”

She looked contrite. “There might have been, in the past, one or two times that you father and I bankrolled a patron of the art at your gallery. Just two or three times at most.”

Alexis hissed in what she might have imagined was sympathy. “Ouch, David.”

“Dad?” David said, swinging around. “Is this true?”

“Is it true that it was only three times?” He asked, his face still betraying his panic. “Well…”

“Oh my God.” David pushed his chair back from the table. “So how much of the past success of my gallery am I actually responsible for?”

The guilty glance between his parents was all he needed to see. David stormed out of the house and didn’t look back.

~*~

A hand was shaking him. “Why’d you sleep on the sofa?”

Patrick cracked an eye open and saw Rachel’s face swimming in his field of vision. Levering himself up, he put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, still exhausted after three nights of too-little sleep. “It was one a.m. when I finally got home; I didn’t want to wake you.”

She smiled. “That’s very sweet but I know this sofa sucks to sleep on. You should have just come to bed.”

Patrick didn’t respond, squinting at the clock on the mantle. “Shit, I’m gonna be late for work.” He’d forgotten to plug in his phone, so it was probably dead in the pocket of his coat, unable to sound his usual alarm.

“Yeah, that was the next thing I was going to tell you,” Rachel called as he dashed off to shower.

The day was a constant flurry of activity: a meeting with his boss to debrief him on the seminar (which Patrick had to mostly fake his way through, as he’d really only managed to pay attention on the first day), a backlog of emails to respond to, an issue with a client who was delinquent on their payments. But Patrick was glad for the distractions, glad to focus on something other than what he was going to say to Rachel.

Despite his best efforts to slow down time, the work day came to a close and as Patrick went out to his car, stomach in knots, he began to desperately entertain the idea of saying nothing. At least not right away. Maybe he needed to sit with this for longer, really figure out if his relationship with Rachel was truly unsalvageable. There was no need to rush into a conversation that once it was out, could never go back in the box. He imagined how that would go. He’d go home and they’d make dinner together. She would ask him about New York and he’d have to make something up, give some excuse for why he hadn’t taken any pictures. They’d watch something on Netflix and then eventually go to bed.

His stomach twisted, thinking of being in bed with Rachel. After him being out of town for four days, she’d have every reason to expect sex. Any normal newly-married couple, he assumed, would have sex under those circumstances. And he didn’t think he could go through with that.

Beyond that, it would be irresponsible to go through with it even if he found himself physically capable. Patrick was embarrassed to admit that it had taken until mid-way through the day for it to occur to him how reckless he’d been with David. No, he hadn’t had penetrative sex, but a few minutes of googling told him that he was at risk for a handful of STDs from what they had done together. He couldn’t go to bed with Rachel given that. He’d have to tell her.

For a few seconds, Patrick thought he might have a full blown panic attack right there in his car in the parking lot of Rollins Electrical Supply. It took several minutes of controlled breathing before he felt steady enough to drive.

“Hey, I thought we might order a pizza,” Rachel said as soon as he walked through the door.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

She was tapping on her phone. “What toppings do you want?”

“I’m good with whatever,” Patrick said, setting his bag down and going into the kitchen. He opened the small cabinet where they stored a few bottles of rarely-opened liquor, wondering if a shot of whiskey would help. He pulled the bottle down, then put it back. Then pulled it down again, pouring a few ounces into a glass. He gulped it down, wincing at the burn in his esophagus.

“Pizza should be here shortly,” Rachel said when he rejoined her in the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone. “What is going on with these weird demonstrations everywhere?”

“What demonstrations are you talking about?”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know, seems like every time I look at the news people are rioting in cities, and police are killing protesters… the whole world feels like it’s falling apart.” She tossed her phone onto the sofa. “Do you want to watch something?”

He should let her eat first, he thought, not do this to her on an empty stomach. So he agreed, and Rachel spent ten minutes scrolling through the Netflix menu before finally picking an old season of Great British Bake Off. Patrick stared at the screen without really seeing it, thinking about David and wondering what he was doing. Had he gone to his gallery today? Was he out on a date with some new person from Tinder? Was he at home, also watching Netflix? Patrick wanted to text him, but he doubted that would be welcome. He pulled out his phone and read the few texts they’d exchanged on Wednesday.

“So, did you see anything good in New York?” Rachel asked when they’d set the veggie pizza up on the coffee table to share. On the TV screen, a baker sat on the floor and stared despondently into his oven.

The first image that popped into Patrick’s mind was of David stretched out naked on his bed, a beautiful and profane work of art. “I saw the Empire State building,” he lied.

“Cool, did you go up in it?”

“No, the line was too long. And I saw Rockefeller Plaza.” Another lie; he’d intended to do that, he just hadn’t quite made it.

“Aww, I’ve always wanted to skate there. Were there a lot of people skating?”

“Yep.”

When they’d both finished eating and before Netflix could auto-launch another episode, Patrick reached for the remote and flipped the TV off. “Rach, I need to talk to you.” He threaded his hands together, squeezing his fingers tight against the tops of his hands.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What about?” They’d never spoken about that night in the car a few weeks ago, when she’d all but said their marriage wasn’t working. Everything since that night had been mundane discussions of work and household logistics, the elephant in the room unspoken about day after day.

He opened his mouth and closed it, uncertain where to start. Terrified. “I’m so sorry,” was all he could get out, which just deepened her frown.

“Sorry for what?”

“You said the other night that getting married had made things worse, and—”

“I was just tired that night, Patrick, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you weren’t wrong. At least, you weren’t wrong that something’s never been right, but I never knew what it was. I ran away to try to figure it out, and I don’t know why it took me so long. Why I couldn’t…”

“Patrick, you aren’t making any sense,” Rachel said, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them like she was trying to fold herself into a ball and disappear. “And you’re scaring me.”

“I know. I know, I just… I have to tell you…” He rubbed his hands over his face. “God, this is so hard. When I was in New York, I met someone.”

“What do you mean, you ‘met someone’?”

“I met a… a man. And I… Rachel, I broke my vows.”

The expression on her face remained confused. “Patrick, are you saying to me right now that you had sex with a guy in New York?” She didn’t look angry, but that was probably because she couldn’t wrap her head around what he was telling her.

“I mean, not sex sex, but…” He could imagine David rolling his eyes at that distinction. “But yes. Yes, I did.”

Rachel stood up and paced across the room before turning back to him. “Why?”

“Because for the first time in my life, I wanted someone,” he said without thinking, and then winced as he saw those words punch Rachel in the stomach.

“For the first time in your life,” she repeated, dazed. “So you’ve been lying to me? All these years?”

“Not consciously! Rach, I swear to you, I didn’t know. I didn’t realize that…” He hadn’t said it to anyone yet, hadn’t said the words out loud. It felt important to say them now. “That I’m gay.”

Anger was starting to flicker in her eyes. “How could you not realize? How could anyone not realize that they liked men and not women? Especially when you and I were…”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. We got together so young, and I just… maybe I knew on some deep level, but—”

“And now you’ve gone off and fucked a guy and decided that you’re gay. Just like that.” She folded her arms across her chest.

Patrick ran his hands over his face. Her anger was the least of what he deserved, and he resolved to endure whatever she was going to throw at him. “It was different, with him. I’ve never felt…” He stopped. How could he make her understand without being needlessly cruel?

“You’ve never felt that with me, that’s what you’re saying.”

He nodded.

“So some stranger who you picked up in New York can make you feel things that I never have in fifteen years.” Rachel’s voice was like shards of glass scraping across her throat.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck does ‘sorry’ get me? It doesn’t get me back all those years I’ve wasted. It doesn’t undo this marriage.” Spots of color on her cheeks stood out against her pale skin, clashing with her red hair. “Why couldn’t you just have been honest with me that things didn’t feel right with me?”

“I tried, Rachel. Every time we broke up, I tried to tell you that. I did tell you that! But then you’d pretend to text me by accident and I’d be feeling lonely and you’d manage to glue our relationship back together—”

“Patrick, you’re a grown man; I shouldn’t be able to browbeat you into getting back together. If you weren’t happy, you could’ve just said ‘no’.”

He stood up too, now. “Don’t you get it, Rach? I never said no to anyone about anything, not in my whole life! All I’ve ever done has been to please people. My parents, my teachers, my coaches, you,… I never once did something just for me until a few nights ago. I was selfish, and I know how much this sucks. I will regret hurting you for the rest of my life, but I won’t regret finally taking something that I wanted. I won’t.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Must’ve been some guy.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I doubt it,” Patrick said.

“So what do we do now?” Rachel asked.

“The apartment is yours,” he said. “I’ll go stay with my folks, see if I can find another place I can afford—”

The finality of what he was saying seemed to spark her anger again. “Just like that, it’s just over?”

“I should never have married you, and I take responsibility for that. I’ll pay whatever it takes for the… court costs or whatever. It should be easy, we don’t own much—”

“Say the words, Patrick. Say you’re divorcing me.”

“What’s the alternative, Rach? Do you want to stay married to me when we both know I can’t love you the way you deserve?”

“And you never did love me,” she said. It was realization after realization, hitting her painfully each time.

“I do love you, Rachel, but not the way a husband should love a wife. And I would pay any price to have realized that sooner, I swear I would. But all we can do now is… move forward.”

Swiping angrily at her face as more tears flowed, Rachel ran into the kitchen. His shoulders slumping, Patrick picked up his backpack and the suitcase that still stood by the front door, and he left the apartment.

Chapter 8

[twistedwonderlandimagines]

Big sis Sienna’s advice for learning how to happy

Not TW, but your big sis is here to give advice on how to be less sad and more happy. I’ve had to deal with Social Anxiety, High Functioning Autism, and Bipolar Disorder for almost twenty years now (that is to say my whole life), and I’ve learned a few things that I’d like to share.

---

1. When you find a new group of people to socialize with, let go of someone toxic, or start towards recovery, it’s going to be scary at first. It’s going to give you anxiety at first, and it’s gonna take a while to get used to the changes. The human brain likes routine, so even good changes can feel really bad at first. When my abusive relationship ended, I felt horribly anxious and depressed for weeks, but now I’ve never felt better in my life.

2. It’s hard to stop negative self-talk. But it’s way harder to recover when you’re saying bad things about yourself. You have to force yourself to say good things about yourself and the things you make. You’re going to start seeing the good in yourself, and you won’t have to force yourself to find the good in yourself and the things you create anymore. It may take time, but you’ll get there.

Instead of saying, “my writing is garbage,” or “my art is terrible” pick out a scene or part of the drawing you really like and take a moment to compliment yourself on it. Look at the parts you didn’t like and instead of insulting them, try to find the things you did right and consider how you might make it even better the next time.

3. Do multiple activities in one day. Doing one thing for too long is depressingly boring. You may love writing, playing video games, or reading comics, but doing them nonstop without changing things up gets stale quick.

Mental stimulation can improve your mood.

4. I know you’ve heard this a million times, but remember to take care of yourself. If you’ve got medication, take it. Make sure you’re drinking water and eating well. Get at least eight hours of sleep and remember to exercise. Don’t forget about hygiene.

5. Keep a journal. Writing down your thoughts really does help.

6. There are going to be setbacks. You’re going to feel like you’re sliding back downhill, and this is normal. There is nothing wrong with you if you face a setback. Everyone does. Try to stick to the other advice on this list and push through. You’re doing great.

7. Go to therapy. Go to therapy. GO TO THERAPY.

Everyone should go to therapy at least once if they have the opportunity. Why? Because we live in a society where people don’t talk about their feelings enough. We all need to learn how to be more open. Also, there’s no shame in needing therapy and medication, no matter what anyone says otherwise.

Finding the right therapist goes a long way towards recovery. If you’re with a therapist who doesn’t feel quite right to you, then express to the psychiatrist that you need a new one. Don’t be afraid to hurt their feelings- they understand that they might not be the best fit for you.

8. Go to the people you love and trust for emotional support. If you saw them struggling, you’d want to help them, right? I guarantee that they want to help you just as much.

Don’t expect them to be able to provide the same type of professional help that a therapist would, though. Friends and family can give you a shoulder to cry on and remind you that you’re loved and wanted. Therapists understand how the human mind works and are professionally trained to help make you feel better in the long run.

9. This may seem easy, but it’s actually a hard lesson to learn for many people. Not everyone will agree with you or like you. In fact, some people may dislike you not because of something you did or said, but just because they’re having a bad day and need something or someone to take it out on. (They need to learn better coping mechanisms.) 

Also, for every one person that dislikes you, there are a lot of others that love you. The people that love you are the most important, so don’t convince yourself that the people who dislike you are a big part of your life.

10. Figure out what you value, and stick to your values. It may seem odd, but sticking to a moral or philosophical belief can ground you and make you feel more proud of yourself. As an example, you may believe that people should only be judged based on how they treat others. Or you may believe that no life should ever be cut short for any reason, even as a punishment.

11. Take responsibility for your actions when you are in the wrong, but you don’t have to yield when you are right. 

12. Holding a grudge only makes you feel worse about what happened. By no means am I saying you have to forgive them or let them back into your life. What I’m saying is that you shouldn’t let the past haunt you forever. You’ll still think about it sometimes (everyone does), but you should try your hardest not to dwell on it. I know that’s hard, but if you never try then you’ll never move on.

13. Sometimes it’s better to analyze a situation logically rather than emotionally. I struggle with this myself. It’s hard to look at a situation without letting too much emotional bias muddle your perceptions. And of course there are times when emotion should outweigh logic, but when your friend hasn’t replied to a text in an hour they’re probably just busy, unless you just said something terribly obscene (which you probably didn’t).

[lunawings]

King of Prism SSS Episode 3 commentary (Taiga)

I am SO RELIEVED that this episode is FINALLY out. 

I finally get to show you guys what the inside of my head has been like for two months. 

THE FESTIVAL THAT HAS BEEN INSIDE ME

GET BUCKLED IN

Taiga’s room is divided into half Kazuki worship, half Aomori. Seems about right.

Let me start off by saying it brings me SO MUCH JOY how much Taiga loves Aomori. Aomori is way far removed from Tokyo, on the northernmost tip of the main island, and pretty much in the countryside. I went there 4-5 years ago before King of Prism existed AND I. LOVED. IT. There was a cool breeze even in the brutal Japanese summer, the atmosphere was refreshing and wonderful... and the festival. Two of the biggest things Aomori is known for are apples and, of course, the Nebuta festival which I’m convinced has to be the best festival in all of Japan. Those giant festival floats are just fucking amazing and I will be inter-splicing this post with my travel photos from that time. 

But even so, I’d think a boy at Taiga’s age would still think Tokyo is a lot cooler and want to be in the big city. BUT NO. NOT TAIGA. And since I also CANNOT FUCKING STAND TOKYO either, every time Taiga in this episode says Aomori is better than Tokyo I just want to stand up and be like 

FUCK YEAH IT IS 

Okay moving on, sorry this post is gonna be long enough as it is. 

When I first heard this line I swore it sounded like he was saying something about “Las Vegas” ahah... ha...

I am very happy with this screenshot. 

*ahem* Anyway. I looked up “rassera” ages ago because I had no idea what that was about and apparently it’s a phrase that lost it’s original meaning over time as it got muddled together, and is now only used as a festival chant. It used to mean “bring out the candles” or something?

The “us” in the sub kind of annoys me because Over the Rainbow isn’t a part of Edel Rose anymore but maybe that’s.... just.... meeeeeeeeee..............

I took the night bus from Tokyo to Aomori before. It was 10 or 11 hours. It was... unpleasant.

Old dude club in the back row.

I really wonder what people who have never seen Pride the Hero are gonna think of this exchange. If you have not seen Pride the Hero, sorry to disappoint you(?) but taxi is actually not a metaphor. 

I wonder if Kakeru would have really kept hounding Taiga if he didn’t pay him back. It’s not like Kakeru needs the money. I think it’s more that Taiga just has his pride and wants to do right by Kakeru and not take advantage of him. Or at least I like thinking that way. 

My second favorite line by Taiga in SSS. 

People at the cheering shows are like “Gimme the apron!!”

No, I have no idea why they decided to design Taiga’s cousin(s) to look like Ann and Wakana. 

My third favorite Taiga line in SSS. I just love how perfect the timing is. Taiga just watches everyone walk past him trying to debate if this is really happening or not and then just HOLD ON WAIT--

Behold Yukinojo examining what I think is supposed to be the armor that made Taiga pee his pants in Young of Prism. This is the Easter egg I was talking about. 

I LOVE OZORA. 

Another great thing about SSS is learning how all of the boys have these amazing female characters in their lives. 

The first/only anime reference to Taiga’s distaste for apples. In side material it’s been explained that Taiga can’t stand apples because they are everywhere in Aomori. Even the sound of someone biting into the skin of an apple drives him nuts. Minato has used it as punishment before in Prism Rush. 

People in the theater like to say “Don’t forget the apple!” 

At the midnight showing I think the girl next to me had a brain aneurysm when she saw Wakana here. And I might of as well. 

At this part I always yell “WAKANA DON’T GO!!!!”

Just.... ahhhhhh Taiga being seamlessly inserted in the Rainbow Live continuity like this is just... kjlfjfkljfls.......

Even though I know in the logical part of my brain that Taiga did not exist when Rainbow Live was made, I still kinda want to go back and look for him in the background of that episode anyway. But I hesitate because I know I won’t want to be disappointed with not finding him. 

Still, the idea that Wanana, Ann, and Kazuki all supposedly knew him from way back when is crazy and makes my heart warm. 

(Oh but WAKANAAAAAAA so sad)

So. “Gaudy” huh. We’re goin’ with that huh. HUH. “Gaudy” I know for a fact is the literal translation you get when you look up “charachara” in a Japanese-English dictionary. I have used it too... AS A PLACEHOLDER....................

Seeing this and trying so hard not to FUCKING SCREAM at the midnight showing was a moment for all of us. Taiga.... Taiga.................. Taigaaaaa................. I can’t see this without feeling it travel through every nerve in my body. 

WakanAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Accurate description of summertime in the countryside of Japan. Everyone hangs out and eats copious amounts of fruit probably from a neighbor’s farm. Just go out and walk down the street and you’ll come home with fruit. 

So this is Aomori city, the area not far from the station. When I saw this in the theater I was like, that looks.... kinda familiar. Then the next day I went searching for photos from my sideblog @mdawnjpn and....

I found this and I just immediately started tearing up, like hand over my mouth trying not to cry on the bullet train from Tokyo back to Nagoya during that first weekend. I was there I WAS THERE. 

So I mentioned previously I got to Aomori after a 10 or 11 hour night bus. And I didn’t sleep for almost any of it because I just can’t sleep on buses. And I felt LIKE. DEATH. But I couldn’t find an internet cafe or anywhere to sleep for a while because Aomori city just doesn’t have a lot of things. So I ended up literally just sleeping on a park bench by the ocean for a couple hours. Like around here.

And I remember seeing them starting to set up the festival when I woke up and being like woooah where am I this is amazing. But.. Just like, since Over the Rainbow performs here every year I guess I must have slept through their show. Oh NOOO ahaha

Anyway

And here it is. My number one favorite Taiga line in SSS. Just like the way he says it

OVER THE RAINBOW

THE FUCK IS THAT 

Ohhhh Taiga you’ll know very soon......

Also notice the different colored tie. I wonder if this was his legit school uniform at the time. 

People hold up two concert lights and break them apart when Hiro’s pride is broken in the first movie, and they do the same here.

Oh Taiga...... why is your pain so hilarious.........................

Sometimes I ask myself the same thing.

I love the contrast here between the overly realistic uncomfortable crowd, overenthusiastic Ozora, and poor Taiga. I love it. I LOVE IT. I WAS NOT KIDDING WHEN I SAID EVERY FRAME IN THIS EPISODE IS A FUCKING MASTERPIECE 

It took me two or three viewings to realize that Taiga is actually crying here. Or rather trying really hard not to cry. 

I’m not sure if I’m counting favorite Kazuki lines or not since he doesn’t have a big roll in SSS, but if I am this little “Huuuaah” might be it. 

Poor Kazuki. He does nothing on purpose to incite the storm that has brewed around him with both Taiga and Alexander.

Taiga’s Mom is the fucking best. Like I said, I love SSS for bringing out all these amazing, supportive, strong female characters. Everyone’s Mom is great but Taiga’s Mom might be best Mom. 

Or at least I thought so until I met Alexander’s Mom but the jury is out right now. 

It took me like five viewings to realize their watermelon switched to corn and I laughed way harder than I should have. 

OTSUKARE TAIGA

I loved seeing him be a big brother here eheh. 

Taiga why did you even ask. You know how Edel Rose works.

Shin just looks so happy. He’s a puppy. 

My goal in life is to enjoy everything the way Shin enjoys things.

Yu’s AHHHHH MOOOOUUU in this scene might be my favorite Yu line ahaha. 

I don’t know why, but I the more he whines the more I love him. That’s just how you know Yu is having a good time.

RIGHT

RIGHT

FUCK TOKYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

AHHHHH I WANT TO GO BACK TO AOMORI RIGHT NOOOWWWW

I’m like 40% considering going back this summer. 

I live in Aichi not Tokyo by the way so if I don’t fly that’s about UMMM 16 or 17 HOURS ON TWO BUSES BUT

Okay okay okay. So NOW it’s “street style” huh. Well what the fuck was with that whole “Solid Style” thing in episode 1 then? I guess the translator didn’t realize they were literally talking about street dance? Like WHAT? Or did they just forget?

And you know what actually this kinda pisses me off more, because the least they could do is keep it consistent. 

Because now that whole important line where Shin actually explains it for the first time in the main canon MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE ANYMORE 

ALSO

WHY IS ACADEMY CAPITALIZED AND STREET NOT

WHY

FOR FUCKS SAKE IM GONNA K--

Taigaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

(I’m OK now.)

Giving him a shojo reaction here was a choice. They didn’t have to. It was a deliberate choice. To portray Taiga’s feelings for Kazuki. Ahhhhhhhh

So remember when I stayed up translating this all of a sudden after I watched SSS Part 1 for..... reasons..... 

No I do not know why he’s an apple. Well I assume it has to do with the job he’s doing. And I do have a hunch from a creative standpoint but I’ll talk about that later. 

First timers in the theater always be like “R... RINGO..?????”

NO YOUR ASS IS BIG

....Is one of my favorite callouts of this episode. 

AND WHY IS JOJI EVEN IN THE CAR ANYWAY 

At this point during the midnight showing I was like.... is the real villain of SSS just gonna be Joji going around casually inconveniencing everyone? ....I’d watch that. 

This is the storage area near the main festival stage where you can go and see the floats before the festival starts. 

Here’s what it looks like in real life: 

One of the few instances where I can assure you real life is just as good as the anime. 

For people who read my shitty out of context spoiler about how a character beat Louis for the amount of skin showed in a prism show. Wasn’t kidding. 

Tasuku kinda spoiled this outfit in the first day greeting show by saying something like how it was an outfit which fit Taiga’s tastes well (festival wear) and everyone else was like NO STOP--

But yeah. This show. This soonggggg

Taiga’s voice is just SO. BEAUTIFUL. He has my favorite singing voice in all of Edel Rose. 

So after the first weekend I made a post to Tumblr about how I thought I had avoided getting any of the songs in my head, but then a certain one started CREEPIN IN...

IT WAS THIS

Taiga’s song is both the first one to get stuck in my head, and the one that keeps getting stuck in my head the most often to this day.  

I just love how he makes Nebuta floats of all his friends ahhhhhh 

Here are some more photos of the real thing..

It was raining the year I was there, and when it rains they put plastic over them so they look like snowglobes. That’s kinda cool in itself though.

I’ll never forget seeing this for the first time, realizing what was about to happen and being like NO... NO WAY.... IS THIS REAL LIFE NO WAY IS WHAT HDHFKHFDFH;LSFHDLSHFDS 

I’ll never forget it because I basically still feel the same way every time. 

They didn’t have to set this up like a confession scene. But they did. It was a choice.

But during this scene at cheering shows, I am much less concerned with what Taiga was trying to say and much more concerned with prepping blue and green lights for..... 

Words cannot express how happy this made me. If you haven’t picked up on it already Wakana is my favorite girl from RL. MATTE NYAAAAAAAAAA

Oh look here. A GOOD translation for “charachara”. One that I might actually steal from now on. Usually the best I can come up with is “flirty”, “carefree”, or “showy” depending on the situation.

So it seems at this point the translator finally understood what “charachara” actually means in the context of King of Prism. So of course, the logical thing to do here would be to go back and correct the previous wonky line where they used “gaudy” to make it consistent... right.... RIGHT??

Does Crunchyroll actually translate line-by-line as soon as the episode comes out in the hour before they post it? 

They don’t even get any time to edit it?

ARE

YOU

FUCKING

KIDDING ME

I dunno about you but I would wait a few more hours for fucking slightly more decent consistency in the translation BUT MAYBE THATS JUST ME 

OH LORD Kakeru’s episode next week is gonna be A SHITSHOW. 

The sitcom ending to this episode is so dorky but I love it. 

THIS EPISODE IS PERFECT

FRAME IT

DIP IT IN COPPER

SEND IT TO SPACE 

DONE 

It was really cool to finally see the details in these festival floats in the ending since they go by so fast in the episode. Shin’s has a rainbow! I wasn’t expecting Masquerade, but I suppose it fits Taiga as well. And it’s not that the Taiga version isn’t good but...  

It’s just that... I.... I want the CD but I..... I already have three different King of Prism covers of it on my phone........... nnnrhg

So. 

I dunno about you guys. 

But basically my interpretation of this episode is that no matter what Taiga says....

Everything he’s done...

It was never about the street style.

It was always

ALWAYS

about Kazuki

And that makes a lot of sense.

Kazuki spends this entire episode being an apple. Taiga hates apples. Kazuki is a personification of something Taiga hates. But it changes nothing. He loves him. HE LOVES HIM. 

I always questioned whether Taiga’s feelings for Kazuki were pure admiration or true love. And now I know the answer. Probably both. 

So this ends what I know to be King of Prism SSS Part 1, as per the theatrical release. 

Next week is Kakeru and also the beginning of what I know as SSS Part 2. 

I don’t want to de-hype you guys that much, but I actually feel the Part 2 episodes are a good deal more low key than Part 1. But then again that doesn’t say that much for the King of Prism standard.  

I have been looking forward to Kakeru’s episode being released with subs for the sole reason of finally being able to clarify a lot of things I didn’t understand about it. But after seeing the subs this week. HMMM. 

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

CHAPTER FOUR

Doc Pabbie's house was empty when she got there. It was the same small house he lived in during the other timeline; apparently not even the knowledge of his own success had changed how he spent his money. She was on the point of leaving, tapping a pencil against a legal pad and trying to think of what to say, when she heard a BOOM from outside. Running to one of the windows, she pushed her hands and face against it to see the DeLorean coming up the driveway.

"DOC!" she cried out with a wide smile. Still glad to see he was alive, despite all the thoughts muddling her mind. "Hey, I was just about to leave you a note that I was here!"

"Go on and leave it," Emmett Pabbie told her as he brought a few boxes of things out of the car and set them on a bench. Some of them were in odd shapes she couldn't quite recognise, and some of them looked very dated. "I'll still need to see it three days from now, when I can find out that I should have been here to converse with you and can travel back to this point and time and meet you."

"I… um, okay," she muttered, realising that he was the expert. She jotted down the date and time and a 'Sorry I missed you!' that felt disingenuous now.

Putting the last of the strange things down, Doc beckoned her forward once she'd finished the note. "Now. What brings you back to my stoop, Ms McFly?"

This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have in the foyer, so they retired to his living room, which didn't have much sitting room anymore since so many of his inventions were crammed into his house. It was still preferable to anywhere else. Before Doc sat down, he jogged to the kitchen and returned, setting a drink box down in front of her.

It was a Yoohoo.

"What seems to be on your mind?" he asked as he poked the straw into his own.

"Well, I uh… yeah." The chocolatey drink distracted her, but she shook her head out as she picked it up and refocused. "So, um, my life is super different now than it was before this whole crazy Goonie adventure happened…"

The next ten minutes were spent trying to explain the major differences, and a few of the minor ones. This time, when she remarked on she and her mother finding each other attractive, Doc was completely unfazed; obviously thirty years had passed since she first confessed what happened to him, so he'd had a lot of time to accept it as reality instead of an unpleasant, taboo concept.

"A real predicament. I could tell you a few passing details about the Anna McFly I know, but I'm not sure they would all be of use to you." Setting down his empty drink box, he sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. "I'm no love expert, but you and young Jennifer seem to be trending along towards a healthy relationship at the usual rate for teenagers approaching maturity. You've only ever spoken highly of your mother, though on occasion she has been firm or gotten on your nerves, which has led to very typical complaints. Nothing too serious or telling. The alcoholism you mentioned the alternate Elsa McFly suffering through is nonexistent in this continuum."

"Alright, good, this is good," Anna said, using the same legal pad to take notes for herself.

"The last big fight I remember you having with your parents… it involved tertiary education." At her blank look, he provided, "University. Elsa and Kristoff are of the opinion that you should go and have the quintessential 'college experience', while you wish to devote your time to your band. Unfortunately for you, I agree with your parents, though I kept my opinion to myself at the time."

Huh. University was never anything she had given serious thought about. It simply didn't seem to be in the cards for her – at least, not before she went on her time-travelling sojourn. Her family wouldn't have been able to pay for it, for starters. Now, given the option, Anna still wasn't sure what she wanted to do. It all seemed to pale in comparison to everything that had happened.

"Geez," she said, head falling to her hands. "Like I don't have enough shit to sort out…"

Doc leaned over and awkwardly pet her knee. "There, there…" He looked about as uncomfortable as Anna felt.

"What do I do, Doc?" she asked, resignation and hope warring across her face. "What do I do?"

"I think…" he began, haltingly. "I think that the future is unknowable: it's always in flux. As long as whatever you do, you're happy… that's the most important thing."

"And if that hurts someone?"

"Then you need to talk to them about it. You can't put your own happiness on hold, but neither can you ignore others' pain."

"So I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't."

"Perhaps you're damned in neither scenario. But you won't know until you choose. Put one foot in front of the other. Progress is progress." Sighing, he ran a hand through his wild hair, still an odd tint of green even in this reality, as he contemplated. "Maybe I have been making a series of mistakes all of my life. Meddling in affairs that have become much too painful. But they were my mistakes to make. Just as you have yours; if you do nothing, that could be the biggest mistake of all. So why not at least give it your best shot?"

"You think so? I should just… do it?"

"I do." Then he raised the drinkbox again. "All you can do is roll the dice, Anna."

                                               ~ o ~

Anna returned home hours later, feeling somewhat better. It had helped, to talk – even if she hadn't been given the answers she was really looking for, at least her chest felt lighter.

It was quite late by the time she walked through the front door; the sun had set, and everyone was home – including both Wendy and her boyfriend, Peter, despite the fact that they had their own place. More out of habit than anything else, Anna found herself entering through the side-gate, foregoing the front door – and the chance to accidentally bump any of her family.

She realised her error when the smell of something warm hit her. The table was set, complete with salt and pepper and butter next to various bowls of greens. Gosh, there was even a gravy boat!

"Anna, you're home!" Kristoff's voice was followed by the man himself as he came into the kitchen. "Just in time – dinner's ready!"

And then he opened the oven, and much to Anna's surprise, did not pull out a frozen lasagne. There was a roast on the tray, surrounded by potato and pumpkin and it looked divine. Her parents not only had actually tried to cook, but it looked as if the attempt were successful. Where did the surprises end?

"I… thought you were flying… somewhere else?" she asked haltingly, still trying to get over how good the food looked.

"Decided I could stop over here again before I head out to the East Coast," he said with a chuckle. A little lower, so her siblings in the next room couldn't hear, he whispered, "Wanted to make sure everything was alright. You know… after your talk."

At that single word, she glanced at him, heart trip-hammering in her throat. "Um… you and Mom… you both know everything, don't you? Or like, figured some of it out?"

"Yep. I mean, it would be pretty crazy if we went through all that with you and somehow didn't recognise you when we saw you again, wouldn't it?"

"Guess it would," she whispered. Elsa's laughter from the next room sent a bubbling feeling of joy through her stomach. "Oh… oh, hearing Mom happy…"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

So they hadn't got the chance to discuss everything Anna had told her yet. That was probably for the best. Shaking her head, she beamed up at him. "Nothing, Dad. Nothing at all. Just… so glad to be home. That this is home, and I'm here, and…"

Only after his arms were around her and one of his huge hands was patting her back did she realize her eyes were leaking again. But this time, she was just happy. This time, she was just so happy to have a family that loved and appreciated her, even for all the bumps along the way.

They stayed like that just long enough for Anna to compose herself. By that stage, the rest of the family had showed up and were seating themselves around the table. Anna nearly protested when Wendy sat in her seat, before realising that it probably wasn't her seat anymore.

Dinner was delicious, but Anna didn't expect anything less. She noticed, more than she meant to, the differences between this evening's meal, and the last one she had with the other version of her family. For one, the TV was appropriately positioned in the living room, and off.

For another, instead of a fight, they had a conversation.

"This is great, Dad," Wendy said. "You sure know how to roast a chicken."

Familiar words, without desperation clinging to them. Kristoff laughed – full-bellied and happy. "Why thank you, Wendy. The skill is in the technique. Always remember – take it out of the plastic wrap first."

"Shut it, McFly," Elsa warned him with a smile. "That was only once, and I apologised. My mother acted like I set her on fire and not just a dead fowl."

All through dinner, Anna tried not to give herself away too much to Wendy and John. Kristoff and Elsa were very amenable to glossing over her lapses, so she only had to use phrases like "Oh yeah, I knew that" and "Sorry, I must be tired" to help cover when she didn't know something she was supposed to.

"I thought Jennifer would be here tonight," John laughed as he poured himself some more water from the pitcher. "After all this fuss about going up to the lake, I'm ready for the details."

"You wanted the details for a different reason," Wendy sighed in annoyance. "Men are all pigs."

"Hey, now," Kristoff sighed, though he was laughing and his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Don't be a feminist at your brother at the dinner table. Wait until after dessert."

"You're gonna let her talk to me like that, Dad?" John also didn't seem to be very offended.

"I am, and I will again. What's rule number one in this house?"

All of them except Anna chorused, "Women are always right," and she ended up snorting so hard a pea shot out of her nose. Face burning with embarrassment, she had to hide her face while everyone else died laughing, finally joining them when she got over it herself.

Then they had dessert, and Wendy and John went back to their places, promising to drop by soon. Kristoff and Elsa did the dishes, and Anna shyly stood in the corner.

"Come on, pitch in," Elsa said with a wide smile.

"I… well it doesn't feel…" Squirming, she finally blurted, "I feel like a guest, a-and like I'm intruding on your lives, even though it's my life, too, and… I dunno!"

This whole thing was strange. It was like whenever she was made to visit her grandparents; somewhat familiar, but not necessarily comfortable the way your own house was supposed to be. Still, Anna stepped forward, picking up a tea-towel to help her mother wipe up.

"It won't stay like that for long," Kristoff reassured her. "I suppose… a lot has changed for you, hasn't it?" Anna nodded.

"We're here to help as much as we can," Elsa said. "I'd say your brother and sister would, too, but… it's probably better that they don't know."

Kristoff grunted in agreement, and then grimaced. "Well, for the next week, I'll be here in spirit and moral support."

"Early flight tomorrow?" Elsa asked, and he shook his head.

"Late flight tonight." He looked up to the clock, hanging on the wall, and Anna's gaze followed. "Probably oughtta leave in a few. But I couldn't just skip this."

"I'm glad you came back," Elsa whispered, pecking him on the cheek. It was a lot more like the way she used to kiss John or Wendy when they were leaving the house than a "spousal" kiss. Then again, it was still more kisses than she had given her father in the old reality. "Even if it will throw a wrench into your schedule."

"They don't have a signing without the signer." He finally finished washing the last pot, handed it off to Elsa and grabbed for the towel. "Besides… we've been wondering about this day for a long time."

Anna cleared her throat and tried to speak up. "U-uhm… I, uh…" This was hard. "Dad… I know this is probably just as weird for you as it is for me. Knowing that, um, Mom and I…"

"You don't have to go into detail. It's… I mean, you're talking to a best-selling science fiction author, sweetheart. Even if I don't normally believe the things I write are possible, or happening, I've always expected them to be in the realm of possibility. When we figured out you were Victoria, it really threw us for a loop, but…"

"But it was me who struggled with it the most," Elsa sighed as she rinsed off the last few dishes and set some in the drainer on the counter, and the rest in the dishwasher. "Both because of who we are to each other, and also because I was never as immersed in Trek and Wars and other things like that as your father. Still, we're both pretty smart cookies."

"You are," Anna gushed, putting away her plate and walking over to grab for them. Both parents embraced her tightly. "I'm sorry about… about making things weird, and letting Mom do that with me, but at the same time… I'm so happy!"

Kristoff and Elsa did not seem to share her enthusiasm. If anything, they seemed… concerned.

"Mom? Dad?"

"I think we have time for a movie before I need to catch my flight," Kristoff said as he moved back. He turned away to unplug the sink, and Anna found herself feeling very lost.

Elsa smiled. "Great idea, Honey. Anna, wanna go choose a film? I'll make some popcorn."

It was very obviously not a suggestion. Anna nodded, biting the inside of her cheek and retreating to the living room. What was that about?

Eventually, she settled on Alien – a classic, but she'd never seen it. If nothing else, Kristoff and Elsa would appreciate it. After all, how scary could a movie from the 70s be? She made sure to take her time putting it in the Blu-Ray player, stoically ignoring the muffled vibrations coming from the kitchen. If whatever they needed to discuss was important enough, surely they would tell her, right? She just had to trust that they were better people than she assumed – better people than they had been in another timeline.

Then they joined her. They really came in to watch a movie with her, it was going to happen. Not a suggestion blown off because someone was in a mood, but they made the time – for her. Even if she had ruined the mood somehow, she still knew this was much preferable to how things had been before.

"Here you go," Elsa said with a gentle smile as she handed Anna the popcorn. "And… well, your father and I were wondering. Would you… like to sit between us?"

"Huh? Oh, I… nah," she said with a slightly shy smile. "That's probably weird. I'm practically an adult, I shouldn't be cuddling with Mommy and Daddy anymore."

"You didn't have 'Mommy and Daddy' a week ago, by the sound of things," Kristoff said reasonably as he patted her shoulder. "And about that. Yes, some mistakes were made in the past, but don't you dare think I'll ever forget what you did for me."

"Did for you? Meaning, almost ruined your life?"

"Meaning you turned me from a spineless perv into a real person. Your advice, wherever you got it, either from us in the future or from Doc, I don't really care… helped me a lot. It was hard some days, but I learned how to provide for my family and pursue my dreams at the same time. I'm not surprised everything was worse for me before you helped 'hack' my whole life."

Elsa was gently coaxing the dumbstruck Anna to sit on the couch with them on either side. By the time she recovered, the movie was starting and she had the popcorn in her lap with them both nibbling at it.

"You guys…" Smiling, she started in on the popcorn herself and tried to figure out what she had missed while she was in her stupor.

But then the film began for real, and everyone turned their attention to it. It was better than Anna had thought it would be, though she was wrong with her initial assessment. This film was creepy. Elsa and Kristoff both seemed to enjoy it, and Anna really just enjoyed the company. She wasn't hungry for popcorn – still too full from dinner and dessert – but the bowl stayed on her lap, with her mother and father occasionally taking handfuls.

She wasn't used to this: the closeness. The attention – even though they weren't focussing on her, they were all doing an activity that she had chosen. She could feel her parents pressed quite close against her. The couch was only small, and they – especially her father – were big. So she could feel it every time Elsa shifted – Kristoff, too, but he was easier to ignore. Every time Elsa jumped or leaned forward. Anna had to force herself not to jerk her hand away when it accidentally brushed Elsa's in the popcorn bowl.

It was sweet torture. She fought down her feelings – it was just a movie, they were only watching a movie – and concentrated instead on just… the family aspect of it. Perhaps it was so difficult because it was so different; everything was new and exciting, to a degree. But because she didn't know how she was supposed to feel, it was easy to remember the other positive things Elsa had made her feel.

That was something she was going to have to learn: to retrain herself. That not all positive things were with teenage-Elsa, and not all negative things were with mom-Elsa.

                                              ~ o ~

By the end of Alien, she had fairly exhausted herself with fretting over nothing. Her parents wished her goodnight, and she crawled into bed and tried to settle down for sleep.

But sleep refused to come easily. Soon, she would be back in school, worrying about the homecoming dance and Punz, her grades, all that stuff. And on top of that, time travel and having some kind of bizarre attraction to her own mother. This was just too much for any one high school senior to handle!

It was getting close to midnight when her mother knocked on the half-open door. "Can I come in?" she whispered.

"Sure." Sitting up slightly and laying aside her phone, she asked, "Dad on the plane?"

"Yep. Called for an Uber. I, um… I could have driven him, but I felt like I should be close in case you needed me."

Frowning, Anna stared own at her hands on top of her sheets. "I'm not a little kid. Just… messed up right now. But it's temporary! A few days…"

"More than that, I think we both know." Elsa didn't approach the bed. Anna knew, she knew deep in her heart that the reason was her own fault. But she tried not to let that get to her.

"Let me work on it. Before you call for a shrink, or whatever; I think I can… like, if I try hard enough, I think I can fix my head. Stop, um…"

The woman's blonde head tilted to one side. "Stop what?"

She didn't realise? Anna sat up straighter, turning her body more fully towards the woman at the door. There was a faint light behind her, either from the bathroom or the master bedroom, Anna wasn't sure. It gave Elsa a golden silhouette, hiding her age. Despite the fact that this woman had three kids, she could have been mistaken for her 17-year-old self.

"You're gorgeous…" Anna breathed. And then hung her head because she wasn't supposed to be thinking things like this – let alone saying them. How was she going to prove that she could fix this herself when she came out with stupid things like that?

Perhaps Elsa hadn't heard her – or perhaps she was ignoring it – because she took a single step towards the center of the room. "Anna… what is it you want to stop?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Anna whispered helplessly. Hopelessly. "These- these thoughts. But I can do it! I just need some time, I promise!"

She must have sounded so terrible – frightened and upset and even a little angry. Elsa finally stopped hanging back. The sight of her daughter in distress, regardless of the reason, was obviously enough to get her moving.

"It's okay, Anna," she said softly as she sat on the bed. There was still a good two inches of space between them, but that was okay. It was more than Anna had been expecting anyway. "I know. Why don't you tell me about your trip up to the lake?"

Anna snorted. "You make it sound so insignificant…" she said, a tad bitterly. That wasn't fair. It was obvious that Elsa thought the same. She leaned away a little, hurt, but Anna couldn't find it in herself to apologise. It was the truth.

"I trust you," Elsa said in that same low tone. "If you say you can do it, I trust you. And I trust you to come to me if you realise you can't, and you want someone to talk to about it."

"You're so cool about this… it's almost as weird as there being a 'this' in the first place." Sighing, she ran her hands up and down her face. "Thanks, Elsa. I'm gonna do my best."

"Mom."

"What?"

Sighing, Elsa stared at the door with slightly haunted eyes. "Call me 'Mom'. Tori called me 'Elsa', and she said it the way you say it. Not that I'm going to be angry if you slip!" she assured her hastily with a little smile. "Just… asking you to make it easier on me by not doing that."

"But you are Elsa. I… I'll try, but I'm really serious when I say I say 'Mom' like it's a four-letter word, because… she just never tried to understand me, never let me be who I am. We fought all the time and it got really nasty. You're not her. That's a good thing, but it does make it hard for me to call you that."

"Oh. Well… I suppose it would be silly to be upset over you liking me more than you liked her," Elsa chuckled. "Though I have to worry about how you like me."

Hanging her head, Anna looked at her hands for a moment. Tried to fight her way through a mental gauntlet of desires. "I… do want… you to be my mom, but I'm worried that it's too late. Like, I kinda wrote off having a good mom a long time ago, so it feels so great to have you but it also feels like… a lie? I'm really sorry, Mom, I'm not trying to be a butt, I just want you to know how I'm-"

"I know," she breathed, rubbing up and down Anna's back now. She could have melted. Somehow, it felt both exciting and calming at the same time. "Honey, I understand. I may be the only one in this family who does, or ever will. But I'm proof that you can work through it."

"But what if I…?" Anna bit her lip. No, she wouldn't burden her mother with this. Perhaps Elsa knew what she was going to say, because she didn't ask for her to continue.

Actually, Elsa didn't say anything at all. She just kept rubbing the Anna's arm, letting her daughter relax more fully against her. It was… soothing. Nice. Unfamiliar and soft, and for perhaps the first time Anna felt something akin to love for a mother.

Of course, it was still drowned by the love she held for Elsa. And she couldn't see that changing any time soon.

"Mmmm…" Of course, she knew that deviated slightly from the familial reaction she should have given, but it was still relatively mild.

"So. You have school tomorrow, and you and the Punzel girl had a good night last night. Want to talk about either of those topics? Might… be a little easier on you."

"You can tell that?" Elsa only gave her a look, and Anna felt her face warming up again. "Y-yeah, I guess you're the one who could tell best."

"I'm glad you're moving on, Anna. Really." A little self-effacing chuckle burbled out of her, which made Anna turn more fully to sit in her direction. "Oh, I was just thinking… I used to worry that I would be jealous of anyone else you dated. But then I realised I would never be 'losing' you; just… sharing you with whoever you end up with. Like most mothers have to."

That warmed her heart, but Anna still couldn't help nudging her with her elbow. "You, jealous? Didn't expect that. You didn't even seem jealous of Punz in the 80s."

"Are you kidding?! I could have snatched her bald!" They both giggled. "If she wasn't out of reach thirty years in the future, I mean. But… even then, I just thought I could I could win you over by out-gaying her. And I was right, wasn't I?"

"Totally were." They shared a warm smile. For Elsa, the memories were old and faded, part of her past; for Anna, fresh and alive. "I… y-yeah, Mom, it was amazing. I can't believe I was your first!"

Finally, the topic seemed to be catching up to her mother, but she also was seemingly trying not to overreact again. "You were. Not the last, however… there have been other women."

Anna's eyes bugged out. "There have?! WHO?!"

"Another time," she told her firmly, though the mischievous smile said there was much to tell. "Go to bed."

"Can you cuddle me to sleep?" Anna said with an exaggerated pout.

"NO. But if you promise to stay still once I tuck you in, maybe I'll kiss you goodnight. On the forehead."

So Anna obeyed. She crawled under the covers again, pulled them up to her chin, and then let Elsa lean over her and kiss her forehead. Trying not to enjoy it was difficult but she did manage it, only just being glad that her mother was acting like a mother for once.

"Goodnight, my Anna."

"Goodnight, Els- I mean… Mom." After that, despite all her confusion and conflicting feelings, the excitement of the week before, she felt a lot more predisposed to sleep.

                                              ~ o ~

The worst part about a good night's sleep was the fact that, at some point, one had to wake up. Anna jolted up at 6:45, the sound of her phone alarm blaring in her ears. It had only been a week, really, and yet she was already terribly out of routine. Shower, clothes, breakfast, then the almost-hour-long walk to school.

She was just wolfing down the last of her toast and heading towards the door when a sudden voice stopped her. "Anna? What are you doing?"

She very nearly choked, and after a few hacking coughs she finally answered with a, "Huh?"

"You heard me," Elsa said, decked out in a nice sleeping gown and fluffy slippers. Anna shrugged, her expression a mix between a frown and utter confusion. Maybe a little terror because it sort of felt like she had been caught sneaking out, even though that was silly.

"Um… going to… school?" she said. Wasn't that obvious? Obviously not. Elsa's eyes flicked towards the kitchen, and the clock hanging on the wall. God it was already 7:10 – she was going to be late!

"You're leaving very early," Elsa commented – and sure it wasn't eleven in the morning and her mother hadn't just woken from a drunken stupor, but still. It really wasn't early at all.

"It's really not, Mom," Anna said. "It's a 45 minute walk-"

"Why are you walking? Wouldn't you just drive?"

Oh yeah. Anna just looked at her for a second before letting her rucksack slip from her shoulders. "You mean I could have had another half-hour of sleep?" she cried. "Ugh."

Elsa laughed. It wasn't like Kristoff's, full-bodied and loud. It was just a giggle – one that had her covering her mouth and being generally adorable. "Sweetie. You really did have a different life, didn't you?" Then she approached and patted her shoulder. "Well, since you're up this early, you might as well get a start on your chores."

Slumping against the nearest wall, she groaned, "Yeah, might as well." But Elsa was fixing her with another look. "What NOW?"

"I'm kidding. You really think I'm going to heap more chores on top of you, after the week you've had?" She walked over and loaded up the coffee machine with one of those tiny little cups of single-serve coffee – the kind her family could never afford to even look into. "Sit, sit. Might as well just relax for an extra ten minutes, then take a leisurely drive to pick up Jennifer."

Pick up Jennifer. Of course they would have been going to school together. Probably every day. "I… well, okay."

"So. If you don't want to tell me about how things went at the lake, how about telling me some of the things I don't already know about your… supernatural journey? Like how it even happened in the first place."

Anna pursed her lips. "How about before I tell you anything, you tell me about some of these other chicks you've been banging?"

"Anna!" But she was laughing. Exasperated laughter, but it was laughter. "A little decorum, maybe?"

"Spill, Mom. I'll tell you about Punz later."

"Alright. I was exaggerating, though; I can count the number of 'chicks' on one hand. Only when you were around four or five did I finally start getting the confidence to… well, date around. Until then, I still felt like it would be 'cheating' on Kristoff, even though he always assured me he didn't mind. Since he's always understood my sexuality isn't purely straight – or even mostly straight."

Anna nodded. That was pretty obvious. She wondered, briefly, if John and Wendy knew of their mother's adventures in 'exploring one's sexuality'. After all, they would have been old enough to realise, if what Elsa was saying was true.

"So, you and Dad…?"

Elsa's smile slipped a notch. "I told you. We still care about each other, and we are friends. But the physical aspect of our relationship petered out long ago."

Anna's eyes widened. "Ohh…. so when you say you're mostly not-straight, you mean… all-in on the gay train?"

At that, Elsa's smile once again returned. She gave a shrug that Anna wanted to define as 'coy', and said airily, "Sure, Anna."

Wow. Honestly it was a miracle her brother had been born, let alone her. Why on earth would they have had three kids if Elsa was… not particularly fond of the act that resulted in them? Anna couldn't imagine doing what she did.

Her disbelief must have shown on her face because Elsa was suddenly shaking her head. "I did, and still do, care for your father. And don't think I merely… put up with him because a stranger told me to when I was a teenager."

"How does he feel about this? Last I saw, he was head over heels for you."

"Oh, he is. What's made this marriage work was that… well, it's kind of your doing," she admitted, head tilting slightly. "You showed us how much we had in common, and how important that was. Sharing those hopes and dreams made us from friends into life-partners. And for a while after you left, and especially after John was born, I tried to convince myself that we were in love and that was enough, but…"

Anna inched a little closer, enough that she could take up Elsa's hand and squeeze it gently. "But you still like the ladies. Is it… with dad, did you have to make yourself…"

"Don't think of it as that difficult. It's just… we cared for each other. It's more like a fluke between two best friends that you kind of laugh about later, except it was several dozen flukes."

"But not true love? Oh…" Anna sighed. "Now I feel kind of selfish for making sure you ended up together just so I could be born."

At that, Elsa pulled Anna into a hug immediately. No waiting. "Don't you ever think that. Don't ever, EVER think that, Anna! I've had a wonderful, full life. A little weird at times, but nobody's life gets to be picture perfect. But I would rather end up living that awful life where I'm an alcoholic than lose you!"

Again, she had to pretend not to be filled with Elsa's enticing scent. Now, it was just her and a light tinge of sleep-sweat, day-old vestiges of perfume… and she still found it as exciting as comforting.

"Love you," was all she managed to whisper. As they broke apart, she cleared her throat to hold back more tears; she had been doing too much of that lately. "So okay, the women these past… what, ten years?"

Elsa's smile had been warm, but it turned a little more catlike as she turned back to the coffee maker. "Well… you've already met one of them. During your trip."

"Really? I mean… wait, so Jazz?" A little shake of her head. "Ariel?"

"Yes. She asked me out while we were in college and very drunk. I wasn't ready – not at all, despite your best efforts! Then a few years ago, she was on a 'break' with Eric, and… I remembered that, so… I'm surprised you don't remember her spending a little more time around here than usual. Though, you were a bit preoccupied." Anna lifted an eyebrow in question, and Elsa shrugged. "It was around the time that Jennifer moved to your school. You were quite… enamoured."

At that, Anna folded her arms over her chest and fixed her mother with a piercing gaze. "So the redhead, hmm? Seems like I'm not the only one with a type."

At that, a gorgeous blush rose to Elsa's cheeks. "It was one woman, Anna!" she cried out. Anna nodded.

"Uh-huh. That's two for two, though – just like me, apparently. Who else was there?"

"Oh, no one you would know…"

With a snort, Anna leaned down to pick up her schoolbag. "That just means the other chicks were probably also gingers. Did they have freckles, too?"

She struck a pose. Instead of laughter, however, her mother looked away, cheeks red. Obviously, this wasn't something they could joke about yet. When she didn't speak, and the silence grew heavy, Anna coughed.

"I, uh, better go and pick up Punz," she suggested, looking down.

Elsa jumped on the subject change. "Oh, yes. I have, er, errands and such, too. Don't forget that you have band practise at Merida's this afternoon." Anna nodded. "Okay."

"Okay. Um… bye, Els- Mom."

"Bye, sweetheart."

Band practice. That was hopefully something else that hadn't changed. She hoped other-version her wasn't better at playing or singing than she was – that would be a pretty bad tell if she was suddenly shit.

Well, more shit.

                                              TO BE CONTINUED…

[lunamoonprism90-blog]

First blog

Hey there.  As the title says, this is my first blog!  

I’ve got to be honest, I am pretty scared doing this but I am hoping that I can overcome that and use this platform to express feelings and topics I want to write about :).  

I don’t mind if anyone ever reads this, to be honest this is just for me.  So, lets start! 

A little bit of the basic stuff about me - 

I’m 29 and live in London, UK.  I’m married and have a doggo, I have a decent job.  Seem’s like a pretty average, nice life. 

Here’s the thing (and the reason I wanted to start this blog), I have depression and have problems with anxiety.  Usually, like 80% of the time I’m pretty much okay, or at least I sort of just muddle through the every day. 

A bit of a background on my “journey with depression and anxiety” - As a young child, I was painfully shy around others.  I was always nervous to make friends by myself, I’d usually wait for people to speak to me first.  Of course, growing up I had plenty of friends though!  I was always scared to go anywhere by myself, I clung to my parents quite a bit.  Even at a young age, of about 3 or 4 I would make up excuses to try get out of situations that frightened me. 

As I got older, I did gain some confidence but I was still pretty quiet.  Especially when it came to something I felt ZERO confidence in, such as maths classes (I suck at maths haha).  I could never quite understand what it was I was missing, or why I didn’t understand what was being explained in class.  Moving on, PUBERTY!  Puberty hit me early on, in primary school in fact.  I started to develop way earlier than my friends.  I did for the most part ignore it, thinking my friends will catch up and we’ll be the same eventually.  Secondary school started and I think this is when the issue with my body started to come in to play.  My friends all grew and stayed slim.  I stayed the same height from early on in my teens.  My boobs were bigger than my friends and I hated that I had a much bigger chest than everyone else.  I looked at myself as short and podgy and so began the comparison of myself to others.  I had braces for a large chunk of my teens too - this is also made me very wary of my appearance. 

Looking back, I was very slim as a teen and I weighed only about 7 and a half stone, but I thought I was fat/chubby.  There was a point when I was hanging around with some girls who were pretty cruel to not only myself but to my other friends too.  They made me feel ugly.  I get why they did it - they were deeply insecure themselves.  Teenagers are, I’ve not met a teen in my whole life who isn’t insecure about something!  Its normal, I guess? 

The older I got, I started to doubt myself and due to that I let myself fail in a number of areas, one being school.  I let boys affect my mood and I allowed myself to base my whole being off of them and how they made me feel, whether it be happy or sad (mainly the latter).  I as cruelly compared to other young girls and told I was second best etc.  What a thing to tell anyone, but looking back again it was coming from another teenager who definitely did not know the severity of their words.  Words that I would carry on with me even to this day. 

I met my future husband at quite a young age (still a teen though) - 17 years old.  He helped marginally with my confidence, but at the same time could knock it all away with a click of his fingers.  I wanted to be perfect for him, I wanted to be number 1.  Because of all the self doubt I had about myself, I struggled to see that I was number 1 to him.  Not to say that me and my husband haven’t had bad times and that he is perfect.  Far from it, but I’ll explain more on that shortly. 

In to my 20′s now and I started to slowly put on weight, I had fallen out with a lot of my school friends.  I was becoming isolated and pretty miserable.  At 20 I went to uni.  The next 4 years at uni were hard, extremely hard.  I felt guilty for going to to uni - my husband had his own insecurities about me going to uni (bear in mind I didn’t move away for uni and in fact lived only 20 minutes away).  I struggled to feel worthy at uni.  I compared myself to others, everyone was so much smarter than I was.  They always knew what to say and they had good grades etc... so I started to despise others in my classes and my anxiety started to sky rocket.  I was also working part time whilst studying too, which added on extra pressure.  I would come home from either uni or work and lock myself in the bathroom (despite usually being home alone) and I would cry.  Sob in fact.  I would start to contemplate suicide then - always the thought of hanging myself.  The self harming would start then too, but I thought I was always pretty smart about it.  I wanted to continue to seem to everyone else that I was okay, so I would hit myself... bruise the top of my legs, pinch myself and dig my nails in.  I never wanted anything permanent as I never wanted to anyone to find out my secret.  My husband found out though.  (we still wasn’t married at this time, e was living together though).  He didn’t fully understand, I’m not sure if he still does.  He has listened to me crying over the years and tried to help, but at the same time he has also made it worse.  Our arguments have been pretty bad over the years and usually would be to do with our equally low self-esteem. 

I have never felt good enough for him.  When we first got together, I was already pretty insecure as I said before and there was another young girl who my future husband at the time as still interested in/had feelings for.  This girl, although I’m not sure if she ever knew was the basis for A LOT of our horrible arguments in our late teens and early 20′s.  Because of this we have both become horribly insecure about each of us having friends of the opposite sex, or even friends who could be “influential” to us.  Anyway, I have never felt good enough for him... he has left me quite a few times, especially in the recent years (once this year) and yes I do understand it’s been because of his insecurities too but I really am not sure if he knows the impact this has had on me. 

2019 has been one hell of a rough year.  My grandmother has dementia and lives in a care home, my brother is currently under going treatment for cancer.  I feel pretty miserable in my job and I was in a car crash in the summer too.  I don’t have any close friends anymore, so I find it hard to talk to anyone. In the last recent weeks I have felt at my lowest and I have attempted/contemplated suicide twice.  I have been neglecting my anti-depressants and I have had panic attacks. 

My depression not only affects me mentally, but physically too.  I over-eat, meaning that slow weight gain has most certainly caught up over the years.  I struggle to be motivated/go out to places.  I am always so tired, I could actually sleep for days on end if I as allowed.  I have multiple knots and tension in my shoulder and I have actually been signed off work for stress this week.  But I am using this week to change how I am feeling.  To take the time for me and to heal these wounds.  Of course it is going to take longer than this week, but I am hoping to kick-start it this week and really take the time to focus on ME.  

I am going to be writing more posts of what I have tried and going to be trying for the rest of this week and any tips I have found helpful in the past.  

And maybe some more just about me :). 

Thanks!! 

LunaMoonPrism

[rafaelafranzen]

In which I answer many questions about books

I came across this survey from @drawlight and I thought it’d be fun to fill! Fun fact: I’ve been an unabashed devotee of literature and stories all my life and am a stalwart champion of connecting people with stories – I’ve spent most of the last decade attending and volunteering at literature festivals and crossed fingers, am trying to get a job there. I don’t do the tagging thing, but if you’d like to fill this tag me back so I can discover your literary world!

I, like everyone else, am drowning in Good Omens right now, including the script book and original publication, so I’ll omit them from my responses for a bit of variety.

1. What book are you reading now?

Kraken – China Miéville. Yet another book about an impending apocalypse set in London, because I’m a sucker for undercurrents of fantasy in places I’ve walked in. This one’s a dark comedy about a squid-worshiping cult, where the initiating event for The End of the World is a forty-foot giant squid specimen being stolen from the Natural History Museum.

2. What are your favourite books?

I’m a bit of an odd duck in that my favourites change all the time at different points in my life. I hate to do the thing where you divide things up by genre because I think stories are valid in so many shapes and forms but it’s an easy shorthand – a few top favourites:

Literary Fiction: Spill, Simmer, Falter, Wither – Sara Baume (a book about a misfit man who brings a misfit dog into his life. I’ll never get tired of recommending this. The poetic turn of prose in this book is astonishing, and I’m reminded of it every time I read something by Drawlight, actually).

SF/F: Neverwhere – Neil Gaiman (again pushes all my right buttons with undercurrents of another world in places I’ve been) and The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories by Ken Liu – the titular story in this anthology made me cry on the train, in public – you can find it in full here. It’s a quick and heartbreaking read about the tenuous relationship one so often has with their parents.

Short Story: The Great Hargeisa Goat Bubble – Julian Gough (A economic satire and the first fiction piece ever published by the Financial Times, which was subsequently adapted to a Radio Play by the BBC which is also available in the link if you prefer listening. Will make you clutch your sides with laughter, teach you about securitizations, futures and hedge funds and global market forces without the need for you to get a degree in economics first, and ensure you never look at goats the same way again.)

3. How did you learn to read?

Other than the obvious – school, my mother used to take me to the library each weekend when I was a kid and let me borrow 4 books using my library card, and another 4 books with hers. I’d devour all 8 and rinse and repeat the next weekend.

4. What foreign languages do you read?

I studied Chinese as my second language for 12 years and subsequently lost pretty much all of it due to lack of usage after. I can still muddle my way through a menu but that’s about it.

5. What’s the funniest book you ever read?

The Teenage Textbook – Adrian Tan (I’m sure I’ve read plenty since that are better, but this is always the first one I think of. A bit of local nostalgia.)

6. What books have changed the way you look at the world or the way you live your life?

Without a doubt, This Is What Inequality Looks Like by Teo You Yenn. It is a non-fiction book told through the lens of people in poverty, and just as equally, from vantage point of the privileged, us folk who are more or less living in the median of society and the different frames of ‘common sense’ that need to be considered from these perspectives. It is a book about how acknowledging poverty and inequality leads to uncomfortable revelations about our society and ourselves. And it is about how once we see, we cannot, must not, unsee. It is a book that might sober you up for the rest of your life.

It was one of the books heavily drawn on to produce a play titled “Underclass” which I once described to a friend as “the wokest shit sandwich you’ll ever eat”, and I mean this in the best kind of way – it’s the most difficult pill I was ever made to swallow. It left me questioning every assumption I had about poverty, inequality and human dignity, left me squirming and uncomfortable in the way we gloss over the marginalized, and forced me to ask hard questions about the systems of society and who provides for those who fall through the cracks. I saw it a year ago and I still can’t stop thinking about it.  

7. What books have affirmed what you believe about life or the way you look at things?

Not entirely sure how to answer this one, I take away bits from every book and media property I encounter. I suppose if I would recommend anything, especially from the perspective of a writer, that rejection is par for the course so long as you keep forging on, and keep at it, then Stephen King’s On Writing. And on the love for the parts of your life that are odd, glorious and to be cherished, Sue Perkins Spectacles. Her letter to her dog Pickles in the book, available here, is one of the greatest confessions of adoration I’ve ever read, and will speak to every love you’ve held close in your life)

8. What are some of the scariest books you ever read?

To be frank I don’t read much horror, though I used to as a kid. I don’t have enough memory of any specifics to give titles.

9. About how many books do you think you have read in your life?

I’ve not the slightest idea. Probably hundreds.

10. About how many books do you own?

Currently, probably between 50-100, only limited by my bookshelf and now much it can hold. Most of my major book-purchases come around during the Singapore Writers Festival, so annually I drop between $100-200 on new books signed by authors I’ve met in person. Every 2-3 years I cycle out books from my bookshelf I no longer care to go back to and donate it to the book exchange shelf in my local library to make room for new titles.

12. How much would you say you’ve paid in library fines in your life?

Probably less than $5. I’m pretty neurotic about returning things on time.

11. How many books per month do you usually borrow from the library?

Probably less than one to be honest, but when the Writers Festival swings around, loads, to get an advance look at the authors that are coming I may enjoy the work of. Nowadays I usually buy my books.

13. Do you read in bed?

A resounding yes. It’s how I screwed up my eyesight as a kid!

14. Do you ever read while walking or driving?

Sometimes when walking but often I’m just scrolling reddit or catching up on current affairs and UK politics (I don’t live there but I can’t help following it). I don’t drive but I do read books when I commute on public transport.

15. OK, let’s get real. Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever read a book?

What, pray, be a strange place to read a book?

16. Do you listen to audiobooks?

Not particularly, as I find I can absorb information much faster reading words on a page. I also find it hard to multitask when something’s being read out because I want to pay attention to the story. I do, however, listen to radio plays adapted from books!

17. Has anyone ever read aloud to you or you to them?

Plenty, being on the receiving end of readings from many authors from attending the Writers Festival and events at independent bookstores. For me reading: loads of times workshopping my own work while I was pursuing my creative writing minor in university.

18. What was the most difficult book to read?

I attempted Lolita by Nabokov when I was about 14 or 15 and don’t think I got past the first 50 pages.

19. What books do you intend to read but keep putting off?

Craptons. Including the aforementioned Good Omens which I’ve owned for 7 years but never finished. Others that have been sitting on my shelf for the longest time now include The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and The Book of Dust by Phillip Pullman (Lyra, my chosen name that I now use professionally, came from the protagonist of Pullman’s His Dark Materials). As you can see my stable of books mainly tend towards SF/F.

20. Do you buy new or used books, paperbacks or hardcovers, leather or collector’s?

Absolutely! I buy mostly new – see Writers Festival book acquisitions from the earlier question. Mostly paperbacks but occasionally hardcovers if the price difference isn’t too dear. Secondhand bookstores are a dying trade here so I don’t get much opportunity to shop for used. I’m also constantly wary about how much room I have on my shelves and pick my purchases carefully. I usually don’t buy collectors editions because I don’t like having to be precious with my books -  they’re there to enjoy, to crack the spines in and get their corners banged up from being hastily stuffed into bags. With special editions I feel an odd obligation to keep them pristine.

21. How do you feel about writing in books?

Depends. If it’s a book I specifically want for reference, especially non-fiction I don’t mind marking them up. Otherwise I typically don’t.

22. Do you lend books?

I do! There have been books I’ve lent out for years and not sought back though. I do prefer to get them back eventually because books I do keep on my shelves usually hold the memory of the time I had with them, and are usually paperback editions whose covers I enjoyed and are no longer in print. It never feels quite the same to just get a new copy.

23. What were your favourite books as a child?

I read with such volume and variety when I was a child I actually hardly remember specific titles. I’m sure there was Dahl in there somewhere. An awful lot of Blyton and Nancy Drew/Famous Five which are now horrendously outdated but from which I still hold onto fond imagined memories of British summer days and mysterious nights, which are experiences I still sort of seek out when I go to the UK on rambles or hikes.

24. What children’s books do you enjoy as an adult or young adult?

If we’re talking specifically Children’s books and not YA, almost anything written by Kes Gray (Oi Frog!/The Trouble with Daisy series) and Julian Gough (Rabbit and Bear series, whose first book is a great introduction to the concept of gravity, hibernation, and the nutrition of rabbit poo). I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Terry Pratchett’s Discword series, which includes several YA titles but even the main books in the series are fantastic reading for kids I think.

25. Do you ever read the ending first?

Oh gosh, why would anyone do that to themselves?

26. grab the book nearest to you (I picked something non-GO related), go to page 29 and type line 17 (if there isnt a line 17 type line 3)

“You always tell me that when someone is special, then the system has to make an exception." Connect (Julian Gough) – a cheeky one-of a kind signed edition I got from Julian’s apartment in Berlin when I visited him a couple months ago, combining the UK book jacket with US deckled-edge hardback. He started out as a writer I admired, then a mentor, and is now a fond friend.

[gohyuck]

into it - m.l.

some of the lowest parts of your senior year with mark, and one of the highest

warnings, a/n, etc. under the cut <3

wc: 6.3k

warnings: school, misuse of prescription medicine, windrawal, angst (dw it ends fairly happy i would say), uhhh some smutty themes. maybe. there’s no actual smut in this it just gets close ig

a/n: this is literally just me projecting onto mark mixed with some other stories from other competitive schools from around me - if anyone wants to talk about how shitty school is with me they’re free too! i’m a slave to gpa. yeet. i think i might’ve projected onto the reader too please don’t @ me...

description should’ve been “in which mark is the author and the reader is the author and the author is barely a person”

idk this fic seems kinda pointless but . anyways

anyways enjoy <3

song: into it - chase atlantic

Yeah I've been catching planes for the fun of it Then I'll be watching fame turn to punishment The weather's only sunny when I'm under it And I haven't really changed, yeah I'm just confident

33 school days until Graduation

Living fire begets cold, impotent ash.

Mark can’t help but reread the line once. Twice. Thrice. 

He’s studying to distract himself. That, and he’s studying because he needs to, but mostly, it’s a distraction. 

From what? 

He’s trying not to think about it. 

A small part of Mark wonders why he’s rereading Things Fall Apart. While it’s definitely one of the better school-assigned books he’s been forced to dissect - Chinua Achebe knows how to make a point - its attractiveness diminishes every time he opens it again to page one. 

The first time he’d read it, Mark had been captivated without his special little boost. The main character, while terrible, was too relatable - Mark isn’t a fan of failure, either. 

The second time was to study for the 60 question test on the novel. It was less interesting this time around, but Mark still diligently annotated it, spending three days with his eyes glued to the page and fingers cramping around his lucky pencil. Every time he closed his eyes, Achebe’s land of Umuofia appeared. It was there when he opened his eyes, too. 

The third time was to find evidence to use in his analysis essay on what type of hero Okonkwo is. At this point, all that Mark was sure of was that Okonkwo sure as hell wasn’t his hero. Still, Mark typed until his fingers felt raw. 

The 97 scrawled across the top of his printed copy, returned a week later with a slightly smeared red smiley face alongside it, had made it worth it. The knowledge his teacher disclosed to him after class while gushing over his word choice - that nobody in the grade had scored higher than him - doubled his (short-lived) satisfaction. 

Now, Mark’s eyes are laser-focused on the novel in front of him. Their teacher had mentioned in passing that there would be a couple of questions pulled from the book on the last test of the marking period, and he can’t afford to miss anything on the test. He’s got a 98 in the class, and the idea of it dropping makes him squirm. 

It’s nearing 3 am, and he’s desperately wishing that he’d opted to stay at home and study rather than go skateboarding with Jeno and Jisung right after school.  He chides himself on not considering the opportunity cost (God, he’s even thinking in economics now. Economics. Fuck.) before going out. Reaping rewards before sowing them has never worked before - there’s no reason it would’ve today, either. 

There are about four bags of Cheez-Its, a half gallon of water, and 20 milligrams of Adderall lying at the bottom of his stomach. He’s kind of hungry, but he can’t be made to give two shits. Mark tells himself that he can eat later. He hasn’t had dinner yet. It’ll be a reward for finishing the book. 

Mark’s phone buzzes. Once. Twice. Thrice. He pays it no mind. He’s getting nearer and nearer to the end of the novel, and once he finishes he can let himself go for the night. Calculus is done, as well as French, Physics, and Economics (fucking Economics). There’s nothing in his other classes. He’s got swim practice after school, but there’s no way for him to prepare for that. At least - he hasn’t found one yet. 

I'm just fucking lucky I was born with it A hundred million people couldn't deal with this I've been tryna grow cause people kill for it This mental pressure got me popping pills and shit

“Have you considered sleeping early and waking up early to study?”

You don’t answer with a hello when he calls you back - you never have and never will. It’s 4:14 in the morning and you know that Mark’s calling you back now because he’s finished everything. There’s probably Adderall still in his system and a crease in his forehead from worrying that it still isn’t enough studying or time devoted. 

“Good morning to you, too.” Mark’s voice is low, lower than usual. It’s the lack off sleep, you know this. You shouldn’t find the huskiness in it attractive, but you do. It’s one of the less fucked up side-effects of the stress both him and you put yourselves through. 

“Would be if I wasn’t up at ass o’clock in the morning.”

“Hey - be proud of me. At least I have it in me to work hard like this. The way we’re both going, if we don’t die before college, we can get full rides to the fucking Ivies and end up some crazy millionaire couple on the front of Time magazine. Making 40 million before 40.”

“I love it when you maladaptive daydream to me, babe. Really gets me going.”

Mark chuckles at this, and you hear a rustling sound in the background on his end. He’s putting all of his things into his backpack for tomorrow, you guess. You’re right. 

“And I am proud of you.” You continue, knowing that he’s listening, probably with his phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he tidies up his desk. He can’t put you on speaker - both of you shudder to think what will happen if either of your parents find out that you’re up at dawn, talking to the significant other neither of you are allowed to have. They think you’re both just best friends - two kids too wrapped up in school to have the time to date, anyways. “But, I think you’re nuts. I think I’m nuts. You’re worse, but... anyways. I’m proud of you, but you never call me back this late. It’s usually a “ttyl” text, or some shit. What’s wrong?”

The line goes silent. He’s stopped moving altogether on his end. 

He sighs. It’s heavy, and kind of empty, and you immediately know that he’s already cried this out. You wait.

This is what he’d been trying to distract himself from with Things Fall Apart. 

“My rank dropped.”

On impulse, you wince in response. The first semester ranks your school had given out not a week earlier are your and Mark’s second to last ranks as seniors - there’s only one semester left to redeem yourself if you fuck up. Even though college applications have been submitted for months and acceptances are about to start coming out, you know that falling still aches.

Top 10% of your class get recognized. Top 10 get special honors and get to walk first. Valedictorian and Salutatorian get to give speeches, five minute pieces that will be forgotten by everyone but them the next day. You’ll all be free for three months before starting the best and worst years of your lives. 

Graduation day is the focus now, as it has been since the first day of ninth grade. You’ve managed to stay well within the top 5%, to your own merit, but Mark’s always been in the top 10 - with walking honors. 

At least, up until last week. 

He’d been 10th at the end of Sophomore year, and now, apparently, he isn’t. 

You can’t begin to imagine how he feels. 

“How much?”

“Two. My GPA went up a wholeass .1, though.” He’s looking for the bright side by himself, now. It’s progress from last year. A part of you is glad. The other half of your heart aches. 

Before you can convey this, or even begin to formulate a response, Mark continues speaking. “I’ve been trying to remind myself that other people would kill to be 12th.” He inhales sharply. “Fuck.”

“And you’d kill to not. You’re killing yourself to not.” 

“I -”

“Mark.”

“I’m fine, baby.” His petname sounds forced, as if he can’t believe his own words. “I’m lucky, I have a good memory. You know this. I don’t work myself nearly as hard as you think I do, or as I should be.” 

“So you don’t pop pills all the damn time so you can study a week’s worth of material in a night?”

Your voice is tight - you’re no stranger to work and overwork, but Mark is on another plane. It feels like he’s so far gone, sometimes, that you can’t touch him. He’s on the other end of the line, but he’s a million miles away.

He lets a puff of air pass through his lips. Seconds tick by. 

Mark breaks the silence.

“It’s getting late. We have class in a few hours. I’ll pick you up at 8?”

You blink. Your anger at him, at the system, and, for almost no reason you yourself can discern, at yourself, wanes just slightly. It really is late - early - and, as if your body realizes this only after Mark says it, you yawn. Mark hears it clearly, letting a small smile grace his features for a split second because of it.

“Night.” It’s short and sweet, but he’s always been able to tell how much you love him. At this point, it doesn’t matter how much or how little you say.

“Night.” His response is just as succinct. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

He called, so he hangs up - it’s been your system since the eighth grade. It’s worked surprisingly well for four years.

You wish everything was as easy as who gets to hang up. 

After plugging your phone into its charger and turning into your blanket, you stifle another yawn. Before sleep finds you, you can’t help but whisper it into existence, your words muttered into your pillow for whatever higher power finds them-

Let him Be. He deserves it. Let him Be. He works so, so fucking hard. Let him Be.

Your thoughts are muddled, but that’s because it’s nearing 4:45 in the morning. You aren’t even entirely sure of what you’re saying. For what feels like the millionth time, you wonder how you’ll be able to get up in time for school within 3 hours. You wonder how Mark will do it. A part of you hopes that he forgets to set his alarm and gets the sleep he so desperately needs and deserves. 

He’s leaning against his car, scrolling through something on his phone when you open your door. You don’t bother checking the time. It’s about 7:54. You’d checked your grades about five minutes ago at 7:48. You’re wearing his favorite sweatshirt - the blue swim team one that’s too small on him and too big on you (it’s his damn shoulders, and that’s the only reason why). He appreciates your outfit, checking to make sure that your parents aren’t outside and leaning across the center console to slip his cold hands under the sweatshirt while finding your lips with his own to show you the extent of this appreciation. 

It isn’t until you pull away from him to see that it’s 8:02 that he shifts to Drive, though not before sending you a smirk while buckling his seat-belt and checking his mirrors. 

You check your calendar. 

32 school days ‘til Graduation. 

But I'm into it, I'm into it Say she wanna fuck me later Girl I'm into it, I'm into it, I'm into it This mental pressure got me popping pills and shit But I'm into it, I'm into it

25 school days until Graduation

You see it as a well-deserved break. You aren’t quite sure what Mark thinks. A distraction? You hope not. You’re more than just a distraction. You should be, at least. 

There’s not much time to mull this unpleasant thought over, though, as he teasingly nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. One of your hands flies to his hair, while the other keeps you sitting up in his bed while you’re still leaning back. One of his hands is on your thigh, while the other is splayed across your stomach, hiking your camisole up. His shirt is off - it has been for a while. There’s hickeys dotting his collarbone. 

If your mind was working, you’d be admiring your handiwork. 

“Your underwear’s still on,” He moves back slightly so his eyes meet yours, your fingers still entangled in strands of dark brown hair. His lips are red from kissing you earlier. You know for sure that your pupils are blown as wide as his are. “Can I change that?” Mark’s fingers are running over the elastic waistband that separates him from your skin. 

You blink. You swallow.

A voice in the back of your mind begs you to say yes, begs you to guide his head back to where you want his mouth. You haven’t fucked him in weeks, it whispers. If you don’t now, it’ll be even longer.

“Mark,” His name comes out as more of a whine that you expect. He dips his head down, pressing a chaste kiss on your knee.

“Hm?”

You’re this close - this close - to begging him. You can practically feel him on top of you - inside you - already.

Until, of course, your logic prevails.

“Mark,” You say his name again, without the rawness this time. His gaze bores into yours, awaiting your response. 

“Calc.”

Mark stays on his knees for a moment, and in that moment he seems hesitant to move. That’s dangerous - if he stays down any longer, you’ll beg him to continue. 

Thankfully, he presses one last, reverent kiss over your underwear before pushing himself up off of the floor. You’re still holding your breath. 

“I can’t believe I just got cock-blocked by math.” He grins at you, not perturbed. Mark’s nothing if not respectful. He tosses you your shorts before beckoning you back over to the floor beside his desk. 

Mark sits down, cross-legged, in front of you, but not before handing you your math notebook and grabbing his own. Your calculus textbook goes between the two of you.

“We can rain check.��� You say. He quirks an eyebrow. 

It’s hot. He’s hot. 

You imperceptibly shake your head - you’re still flustered, and would give anything to be underneath your boyfriend. The only reason you aren’t is because your math grade depends on you acing tomorrow’s calculus test. 

“Come again?” Mark knows what you said - his teasing ass just wants to hear it again. You know what he wants to hear. 

“I want you to fuck me later.” You look him in the eyes, pleased to see a hint of a blush. Sometimes you miss the early stages of your relationship - where Mark had been constantly tripping over his own feet and as red as a fire hydrant. You’d been the smoother one, then. 

One corner of Mark’s mouth turns up, and he leans over the textbook to give you a short kiss. 

“I’m into that.” 

I'm getting way too deep I'm fucking into it I'm into it, yeah I'm into it I wouldn't change it for the world I'm fucking into it

He pulls a pill bottle from a box he keeps in the bottom right drawer of his desk. It’s where he stores everything important to him - polaroids of him and you together, his calendar, the swim team schedule and his list of swim times, his phone charger, his planner... and his Adderall. 

Mark takes his typical dosage into the palm of his hand, swallowing the pills dry. He moves to put the pill bottle back. It’ll be some time before it kicks in, but the rest of the day is ahead of both of you. 

He always takes some before studying, but never asks you to. It’s not something he wants for you. You’ve never asked, too - it’s not something you want for yourself. 

Your tongue feels like sandpaper, though, and every breath you take makes it feel as if there’s more lead in your lungs than air. Your math grade flashes through your mind. You need to ace the test for your grade and, by extension, your sanity. 

“Babe.” Without being fully aware of yourself, you place your hand on top of his. Neither of you will move from the floor in...hours. You’re sure of this. You may as well make the absolute most of it. 

“Give me some.”

I’ve been on the road since I was sixteen They don’t really notice I how I see things These girls they come and go between my bedsheets And I’ve been doing blue and causing big scenes, yeah

17 school days until Graduation

"Remember when we were sixteen?”

“Like... last year? Yeah.”

You turn over onto your side to face your boyfriend, only to find your nose in his bare chest. Mark chuckles. He moves back, allowing you to shift so that you’re face to face with him. 

“Fifteen and sixteen, at least. For sophomore year. Do you remember any of sophomore year?”

“Less depression.” His hard words come out soft, paired with an even softer smile. Mark wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your body into his. Skin on skin. “Less getting laid, too.”

“Shut up,” You’re smiling now, too. The melancholy presses against your thoughts.

“I was talking about the less depression part, actually.”

“What about it?” Mark seems and sounds slightly antsier, all of a sudden. 

As he always does when you bring up things he might not want to hear. 

“Nothing big, just like... don’t you miss it? Going out sometimes and actually feeling like highschoolers?”

“We went to libraries, babe, and to the mall like every couple of months. It wasn’t anything special.”

“It was easier, though.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in. His skin is warm - you aren’t surprised. “No drugs and shit.”

Mark pulls away from you, very, very slightly. 

“Adderall isn’t a drug.” His voice is adamant. The speed of his switch from soft to rough is almost alarming. “You’ve had it once. You aren’t addicted.” 

You sigh, choosing not to respond. You’re too fucked out to fight him. Instead, you run the pads of your fingers over his collarbone. 

“No, but I’m addicted to you.”

Pull up and I’m higher than the big trees, yeah She don’t really like it but she needs me, yeah She saying she don’t really miss me But fuck it, now I’m faded after all things, yeah

12 school days until Graduation

“I can’t fucking believe you.” 

He pauses his notes to look up at you, taking in how your eyes are flashing. Your voice is controlled, but the fire in your eyes is unrivaled. The pill bottle is on its side - empty. The last time you’d seen it, which had been the last time you’d thought you’d ever see it, there had been one dosage left. A dosage that you’d been led to believe had ended up being flushed. 

You aren’t mad that he lied - at least, you think you aren’t. You’re mad that he, for the first time in years, broke a promise. 

Mark is unbothered by your tone. You’ll calm down eventually - whether its sooner or later makes no difference to him. Your boyfriend isn’t actually hearing you, anyways. It’s another reason as to why he isn’t really responding. His silence isn’t an invitation for you to continue, but it’s something nonetheless.

You take it.

“Ranks came out three days ago. You’re back in the top 10, Mark. You’re graduating in the top 10. We’re about to graduate, and you’re spending your time still fucking studying even when there’s only two weeks left of our senior year. You’re still on those goddamn pills when you promised me-”

“Just because I reached one goal doesn’t mean that everything else doesn’t matter anymore.” Short. You expected nothing else. 

“What’s everything else? What else is more important than your health? School? We’re pretty much done for three months. We don’t even have any fucking grades left to go in the grade book. We’re done, Mark. Senior year is over.”

He doesn’t respond for a beat of silence - two, three, four beats - fully focused on whatever is in front of him. It isn’t until you cease your pacing to stand directly behind him, hands on the back of his chair, that he even considers gracing you with a comment. 

“I’m looking over my times, trying to make a better workout regime so I can shed milliseconds.” Mark is straight with his words - he wants you to stop talking so he can politely ignore you. His shoulders are hunched into himself, his glasses digging into the bridge of his nose. The way he’s staring at the slightly crumpled time sheet in front of him makes you wonder if it’s possible to re-kill dead trees. 

“Your times are your lock screen.”

“So?”

“So- so? You always have them with you and you’re always looking at them, you don’t need Adderall to work on a workout schedule. You don’t need it at all, if I’m being fucking honest, and-”

He cuts you off for the second time in less than five minutes, his voice as sharp as a knife.

“You have no damn clue what I need.”

Your hands release his chair on reflex as you step back, everything about your body screaming that you’re offended. Mark pays this no heed, turning back to his desk.

It’s just one sentence, eight words, and part of you wants to argue. Part of you wants to bring up all of the times he’s leaned on you, the times you yourself have been exactly what he needs, but you know that that wouldn’t be playing fair. 

He’s gotten like this before, where he’s frozen everyone - frozen you - out without not so much as a thought. You’ve fought before, too, out of inevitability.

He’s never, however, been so blatant or blunt. Nothing he’s ever said before has hurt this much, for some reason. It’s jarring, and, before you know it, your throat is heavy. There are no tears pooling, but you know that they’ll come to you later. 

Without a word, you pick up your belongings. You’d worn one of his sweatshirts to his house, but opt to go home without it. 

Being petty can be subtle, after all. Mark deserves it, you think, anyways. 

You call a goodbye to his mother as you walk out the front door to your car. You make it to the end of his street before having to pull over and park, resting your forehead against the top of the steering wheel. A stray tear finds itself tracing a wellworn track down your face, leaving you to sigh. 

God, crying over a boy? Pathetic.

Your intrusive thoughts are screaming - laughing, hysterically, at your state. You dismiss them, willing yourself to think straight. 

Not just a boy, I’m crying over Mark. 

Sniffling, you beg yourself to get it together. Staying still can only lead to reminiscing over elementary school Mark, who promised you that he’d never leave your side (after, of course, you accidentally eating a worm and bursting into tears out of a fear of dying from it), to 8th grade Mark confessing his feelings for you in PE, moments before getting hit in the face by a particularly well-thrown dodgeball from Yukhei. Mark is as much a boyfriend as he is and almost always has been the most comforting and reliable presence in your life. With him so firmly, without a second thought, dismissing you...

You breathe in. Sharply.

It’s either drive home to avoid the reality of how much of a stronghold Mark has over your feelings or stay parked and traipse down memory lane, like, as you remind yourself, a goddamn pansy. A voice of reason tells yourself not to be harsh on yourself - you’ve known Mark for what? 12? 13? years and it’s normal to be hurt by him brushing you aside. A louder voice tells you to quit pitying yourself.

If Mark hurts himself mentally, you hurt yourself emotionally. 

Blinking away forming tears, you sit back and turn the ignition.  

5:53 pm

mark...us zusak 

>>did you get home safely

                                                                                      maybe<<

>>im glad

                                                                                          cool<<

6:12 pm

>>picking you up tmrw?

                                                                                          sure<<

>>ok

>>i’m really sorry

read 7:09 pm

But I’m into it, I’m into it Say she wanna fuck me later Girl I’m into it, I’m into it, I’m into it This mental pressure got me popping pills and shit

5 days until Graduation

You have to give him credit - after a somewhat teary but controlled argument in his car on the way to school, focused on why Mark really doesn’t need Adderall in his life, and on why he really doesn’t need to carry it with him to college, he really has tried giving it up. All seemed to be going well, even, for a couple of days.

You hadn’t realized how fast withdrawal would hit him. 

It isn’t as if either of you are wholly unprepared - you’ve both seen it happen to others. Adderall withdrawal can be dangerous, heightening both depression and anxiety. Even a slight dip in Mark’s mood has the inside of your mouth drying up. 

You can’t imagine what it feels like for him.

After all, neither of you are strangers to mental illness, but withdrawal is somewhere you can’t say you’ve been. 

Currently, Mark’s tongue is down your throat. The back of your mind screams at you that this is his way of dealing with withdrawal - by getting himself addicted to you. You know that this is the truth - that whatever he’s doing can end up being unhealthy for him - but you don’t have it in you to deny him as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your jeans and his other hand makes its way under your shirt and bra. 

You can’t help the moans that escape you. 

The pads of his fingers are rough against the skin of your back as he unclasps your bra, pulling it off of you along with your shirt. In the same arc, you hastily pull his shirt over his head, unzipping his jeans not long after. 

It isn’t until you’re splayed out on your bed, eyes already fucked out before he’s even touched you, that Mark breathily asks if you’re sure. As he always does.  

A part of you wants to deny him - for his own good, you tell yourself. Maybe for your own. (Is it possible to get addicted to a person when you aren’t running away from something else?)

The other, larger part of you wants you to pull his head to yours - his lips to yours - by his neck with one hand, taking the condom out of his grip with the other and telling him that you can put it on him yourself. The other, larger part of you wants Mark everywhere, engraved into your skin and lingering on your body.

The other, larger part of you wants - needs - to say yes.

Majority rules. 

But I’m into it, I’m into it I’m getting way too deep I’m fucking into it I’m into it, yeah I’m into it I wouldn’t change it for the world I’m fucking into it

12 hours until Graduation

You find your head against Mark’s shoulder as the two of you recline on the patio’s couch, watching the two of your families interact your joint graduation party. There’ll be a bigger celebration after tomorrow’s ceremony with a bigger crowd, so you cherish the small gathering in your backyard for tonight. Graduation is tomorrow - it almost feels too damn good to be true. The stars are all out, fairy lights have been strung overhead to add to the festivities, there’s laughter rising up from every direction, Mark’s arm is welcome around your shoulders, and you find yourself thinking that you could get used to this. 

“You know, I’m glad that we’re going to college together.”

Mark’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, causing you to look up at him - albeit slightly sideways. You nod, unsure of what to say in response. You’re in agreement with him, of course - even though you’ve both had your ups and downs, a life without as much Mark in it as now is one that you don’t want to imagine. 

He’s been such a constant presence for so long that you’re almost incapable of remembering a time without him. The thought scares you as much as it fills you with love. 

Wow.

You really are starting another chapter in your life. In your lives.

A fresh start - Mark’s still going through withdrawal, and you’re well aware, and just because your high school education is over doesn’t mean that life is automatically easier, now. Still - the next three months and four years after that are something to look forward to, not fear.

You aren’t sure how to voice all of this just yet, opting instead to repeat your awe at high school having ended. 

“High school’s really all over, now. We never have to step back in that building again.”

Mark chuckles at your revelation, running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

“What about reunions?”

You roll your eyes at this, resting a hand on his chest momentarily before remembering that your parents aren’t aware of your relationship. Wriggling out of Mark’s grasp before inclining your head towards all four parents, you remain within a comfortable distance to him. He radiates warmth.  

“I’ll only go to them if you and our other friends do. Maybe.”

Mark grins. “Maybe I’ll drag you to them.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t. You’re all I need, anyways.”

“Hyuck? Renjun? Yeri? Jeno?”

“...You’re the one I need the most.”

“Glad to know that you’re an honest man, Mark Lee.” Your teasing tone makes your boyfriend laugh, and you’re hyperaware of how you could get used to this - smiley, lighthearted Mark. 

“Your roommate’s going to have fun with you.” He responds, nudging your shoulder with his. 

“Hey! I’m not the only one who’s a handful. Lucas? That’s your soon-to-be roommate’s name, right? Lucas has his work cut out for him. For his sake I hope you spend time outside of your dorm room.”

Mark grins as he presses his lips to your temple, simultaneously making sure that everyone else’s attention is elsewhere. He moves away as quickly as he’d kissed you, much to your mental chagrin. 

“What? You worried that I’ll leave you for him?” 

It’s your turn to nudge your boyfriend. Before you can respond, Mark’s mother’s voice cuts through the air. 

“Mark? (Name)? It’s time for the cake!” 

Mark gets up first, reaching his hand out to pull you up. 

“We’re coming!” You call, before turning to Mark with a half-grin on your face. “This isn’t over yet.”

Mark squeezes your hand before letting go of it.

“Can’t be over if you never started it.”

“Mark Lee!”

Girl I’m into it, I’m into it Say she wanna fuck me later Girl I’m into it I am into it, I am into it

conGRADs, Mark and (Name)!

The sign is both massive and incredibly cheesy, but the amount of happiness it gives you is immeasurable. It hangs over Mark’s front porch, visible from the other end of the street, and as you and Mark pass by them, any neighbors that are out make sure to congratulate you. 

You aren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. 

The two of you’d escaped the clutches of your overexcited parents a little bit over an hour prior, around 11, under the guise of taking a walk around the neighborhood to talk about your upcoming collegiate futures. That was how you’d ended the night, of course, but before that you’d both beelined to your house, wanting to sit and talk in your bedroom for the time being.  

Discussion of your coming lives had sputtered out after a while - after all, it’s all you’d both been talking about for years, now - and you’d wound up situated in Mark’s lap, laughing against his lips.

“We should have graduation night sex.”

His tone is matter-of-fact, so much so that you roll your eyes at his bluntness. “We’re going to have to get back eventually.”

“We have time!”

His laugh against your collarbone is enough to tell you that nothing’ll happen tonight, that time together will just be time together. Still, you can’t help but respond.

“Yeah, time enough at college. We’ll be out of the house in 3 months, baby.”

Mark wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing a chaste kiss to the junction of your jaw and neck. It tickles. 

“We won’t have to sneak around and shit, either.” You continue, lightly running your hand through his hair. 

“We didn’t sneak around much this year, anyways. Our parents are just oblivious as fuck.”

“True-” You feel your phone vibrate, causing you to squirm around to reach it for a moment before Mark pulls it from your back pocket and hands it to you, mirth in his eyes. You scrunch up your nose at him before answering - its your mom.

“Where are you?” She sounds slightly worried, so you’re quick to mention that you’re with Mark and near your house, both safe and sound.  

“Come back quickly - Mark’s cousins are planning on sleeping soon because they start their four hour drive back at 6 in the morning, and we don’t want them to miss their chance to say good night to him.” 

You reply with a quick “I’ll tell him - love you.” before she hangs up. Sliding off of Mark’s lap, you help him up.

“Did you hear what she said, or?”

“Yeah. Your call volume’s always been too loud.” 

“I, for one, like to think that it’s just loud enough, thanks.”

Mark grins, choosing to loop an arm around your waist instead of replying.

The moment the two of you step inside, careful not to stand too close to each other, you’re bombarded by exclaims from family and friends and family friends alike. It’s getting late, and people are starting to gather up their belongings. You yourself are staying the night, however - otherwise, Mrs. Lee would riot.

You don’t mind. 

You close the front door behind you, being pulled into the group of people the moment that you do. 

As Mark is dragged into the ending remarks of a conversation with his aunts about something that you can’t quite hear, your mother’s friend’s young daughter tugs you down to her level to congratulate you, shyly placing a pipe-cleaner flower - clearly made by her - behind your ear. 

You kiss her cheek before she runs away out of shyness, far quicker than you expect her to be able to. Laughing, you stand up, only to be pulled into a discussion about your plans for college with your parents and one of your uncles. 

You briefly make eye contact with Mark - who’s also been given a pipe-cleaner flower - once, winking at him discreetly before turning back to nod along to your uncle’s rant over how you shouldn’t push your passions under the rug for your profession. You don’t see your boyfriend make his way through the throng of people gathered in his foyer - most have started filtering out, leaving by foot or by car - until you feel his hand against the small of your back for a quick moment. 

He shakes your father’s hand and hugs your mother before introducing himself to your uncle, who knows of him but doesn’t know him. Time passes quicker with Mark by your side, and, before you know it, it’s 2 am and the only people left in Mark’s how are both of your direct families and your uncle, who’s staying at your house for the night. 

“You have everything? Toothbrush? Pajamas?”

You sigh, looking pointedly at your father. 

“I’m a college student!”

“Doesn’t mean that you’re responsible.” 

You and your dad grin together before you shake your head. Both of your parents and your uncle bid you and the Lees goodnight before Mark’s parents follow them outside, probably to continue talking for a little bit more. 

Mark closes the door behind them, turning to you immediately after only to find that you’re already halfway upstairs. He shakes his head affectionately before following you up to his room. 

“(Name), you did remember a toothbrush, right?”

“Yeah, but I forgot clothes.”

“I guess you’ll just have to sleep naked - ow!” Mark rubs the skin on his arm where you’d lightly smacked him. It doesn’t erase the playful grin from his face. “Fuck you, fine. You can borrow some pajamas, or something.” 

You laugh as you flop down onto his bed before humming inquisitively to yourself for a moment over a question you’ve been mulling over in your head for a short while. You know that summer’s just started, but you can’t help but wonder how it’ll go.

“What’s your plan for this summer? Other than getting ready for our courses and stuff.”

Mark furrows his brows at this while he strips, changing into shorts and a shirt before throwing you one of his longest shirts. You change as well, folding your clothes neatly and placing them on his desk chair to take home tomorrow. 

“I haven’t thought about it, honestly. Why?” Mark turns off the hallway lights and opens his door halfway - a rule his parents have for his bedroom door whenever you sleep over. It’s fair, you suppose, even if they don’t know that you’re together. Maybe it’s especially because they don’t know that you’re together. 

Mark turns off the light after laying his sleeping bag down on the floor, giving you the bed as always. 

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up on the floor next to him, also as always.   

“I was thinking...” 

“Yeah?”

You turn on your side to face your boyfriend in the dark.

“I was thinking that we could take a road trip.” 

A long silence follows your statement, and you begin thinking that you’ve made a mistake asking until, in the dark, you can see the faint outline of Mark’s smile.

“I’m free all summer, babe. Just tell me where and when.”

“For real?” 

The excitement in your voice is almost tangible, and you’re half embarrassed at how childish you must sound. Mark, to his merit, just nods while smiling.

He looks up at you, and, even in the dark, you can see the softness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” He pauses, grinning at you. 

“I’m into it.”

fin... for now?

im shit at endings but also this has been like...a month coming...i’m gonna come back and rewrite this someday but yeet enjoy.... i should’ve reread before posting but w/e 

[thesffcorner]

Deadly Class Vol. 1

Deadly Class vol 1 collects issues 1 through 6 of the ongoing comic series, written by Rick Remender and drawn by Wes Craig. The series follows Marcus, a 14 (?) year old boy who is living on the streets, after his parents are murdered right in front of him. One day he accidentally ends up crashing a police stick-up and gets invited to join the King’s Dominion School for the Deadly Arts; a school that trains professional assassins. I don’t even know where to begin with this series; I guess the best way to go about it, would be to talk about vol 1. Vol 1 introduces us to Marcus, as well as a handful of supporting characters, most of which are other students in the school. The school itself is centuries old; the people who go there are all children or relatives of gangs, cartels, yakuza, FBI/CIA/KGB agents, mafia or just serial killers. Marcus himself is the son of a Nicaraguan double agent, but having spent the past 2 years living alone, his reputation is not one that brings him a lot of friends, and Marcus himself is a difficult character to like. I think that’s a good way to talk about this series too; it’s not easy to like. I usually reserve judgement for the end of my reviews, but I do have to warn you; this is an R rated comic. Don’t let the age of the protagonists fool you; this is a series full of blood, gore, drug abuse, murder, rape, pedophilia, animal cruelty and basically any other trigger you can think of. It’s a series that operates on shock value, in the sense that all the characters are thoroughly unlikable, they have horrible things happen to them and do horrible things to each other, and most of them are rather pretentious, annoying, and act very much like teenagers would, if they were stuck in that kind of situation. The series is set in the 80’s, during Ronald Reagan’s presidency. This is an important detail, because Marcus’ motivation for joining the school (other than romance) has to do with Reagan specifically, as he is indirectly implicated in his parents’ death. The whole plot point about Marcus’ parents’ death is so crazy that even if I told it to you, you wouldn’t believe me, so I’ll just let you read it. The 80’s setting is honestly one of the best parts of the series; there’s a lot of talk about politics, homelessness caused by the Reagan administration, veteran rights, and of course, lots and lots of drugs. The entirety of issues 5 and 6 have to do with Marcus tripping on acid, and the way Craig draws and captures the feeling of being on acid is probably one of the best depictions I’ve seen in media, save perhaps Enter the Void. I am so curious to see how they do that in the show. There’s also a lot of talk about music; of course special snowflake Marcus listens to the Smiths (look I can say it, I too love the Smiths), but obviously there’s also talk of some early rap like LL Cool J and Public Enemy (wow I’m old). That whole conversation between Willie and Marcus is actually really interesting, because it serves as a bigger discussion rather than just music; it’s about the ways in which you want to be perceived, about bravery vs posing, and what is and isn’t allowed for ‘tough men’ to like. I could have definitely lived without the word ‘fag’ and “pussy” being thrown around all over the place, but I suppose that too is authentic to the time period and the way teenage boys talk. Actually, the only thing I can say about the setting that didn’t mesh, is the dialogue. Marcus and the others talk like teenagers talk today; if I just read their lines, and had no idea this series was a period piece, I’m not sure I would’ve known it is set in the 80’s. What helps, is that all the characters sound authentic; they are written like teenagers, both in the way they speak and in the actions they take; they want to be cool, and mature, and smart, and Remender has a good grasp on all of their voices. The plot of vol 1 is fast, action packed, and entirely batshit. There were several scenes which I found very effective; the scene with Marcus and the homeless man in issue 2, will probably haunt my nightmares; it’s such a good scene, and it makes Marcus probably the most unlikable and yet sympathetic lead character I’ve ever read. The fight between Marcus and Chico was also great, though I think it goes on for too long, and by the end of it, I was genuinely shocked that Marcus was able to survive, much less move after that much bodily harm. There are chase sequences that are amazing, the art helps make everything so much more engaging and fast paced; I was flipping pages, on the edge of my seat wondering what would happen next. The actual story, is a bit muddled and unfocused; issue 1 is Marcus’ life before the school and how he got there, issue 2 is him making friends with some of the other students, issue 3 has him and Willie try and complete an assignment that goes wrong, and issues 4, 5, and 6, have the gang go to Vegas to kill someone, while also tripping on acid and getting chased by Chico. There isn’t really enough time to take in everything, and while I think the book actually does a great job at balancing the action with the character stuff the ending of issue 6 does leave a lot to be desired. Let’s talk about the characters. First we have the two girls, Saya and Maria. Saya is the typical cold, (dare I say tsundere) love interest; she’s a yakuza, has a troubled past and is the reason Marcus decides to join the school. I don’t have much to say about her; I found her pretty bland. Maria was a bit better, in that she has more of a personality. I didn’t like that she was shown to be both manipulative and kind of air-headed, and that her friendship with Saya was that superficial (though again, I suppose that is authentic to how some teenage girls are like). Her confrontation with Chico did illuminate at least a bit of why she’s acting the way she is, but I am really not looking forward to Marcus-Maria-Saya love triangle.  Chico was… a mess. He’s part of a cartel family, is jealous, violent, constantly angry and more than a little crazy. I kind of hated that he got settled with that role, mostly because he’s completely irredeemable. On the one hand I understand why he was angry at Maria and why he tried to kill Marcus, but he kills more people in a single issue than any of the other characters in all the rest of the issues combined, and shows no nuance or remorse.  Billy’s a punk, who I actually liked; he has a subplot about his father that was interesting, though like most things in this series, it’s very over the top graphic, and very on the nose with the storytelling. Billy being a crass character was fine, but the conclusion between him and his dad would have worked better if it wasn’t so dramatic.   Willie I liked the most. Unlike Chico who is just a stereotype of the angry, Mexican kid in a gang, Willie is a subversion of the stereotype about a black kid in a gang. He puts a lot of stock in appearance and reputation, because he has to maintain it, since he’s not actually capable of doing the things everyone thinks he can. I liked his friendship with Marcus, and I’m curious to see what Remender does with him in later volumes. I have to mention “Marcus’ Mortal Enemy”; he was just such an insane character that I couldn’t believe what I was reading. The fact that he goes around calling himself Marcus’ Mortal Enemy, and ‘a sadistic redneck who fucks sheep’ is on a whole other level of tell don’t show (on second thought, please don’t show us this Craig, I beg you). He comes out of nowhere, even though he’s teased here and there throughout the volume, and I’m just so confused as to why he bothered to go to Las Vegas, to then NOT confront Marcus. Speaking of, let’s talk about Marcus. Rarely do I come across such a well-developed and interesting, while at the same time completely unlikable character. Marcus has had a hard life; it’s clear that he’s been through hell by the time he gets to the school, and he has a whole host of problems. He overthinks, he’s anxious, he doesn’t know how to communicate with people, but he’s also incredibly pretentious, and is one of those teens who think they are the smartest and have the whole world figured out. Lot’s of his dialogue reminded me of the dialogue in Trainspotting; fitting since tonally, both are very similar and deal with similar themes. Marcus wants to be liked, is afraid of being left alone, and so he compensates with ridiculous and bad decisions. I hated his ‘romance’ with Saya, though it is in line with his character, and throughout volume 1 he does some genuinely reprehensible and irredeemable shit. I want to know where his character will go from here; even if I don’t necessarily like it. If you don’t mind over the top violence, drug abuse and just the most horrible things humans do to each other, than this is the series for you. It’s brutal, it’s fast paced, the plot is ridiculous, and it has some very interesting things to say about a lot of topics. You just have to get through a lot of trash to get to the good stuff.

goodreads

[koreanstudentiseul]

My Language Learning Experience (2006-2019)

Hello~ as requested, here is my language journey/experience post. So fair warning this is a very long post. Way longer than I meant it to be, but I did warn this when you guys asked for it so I’m sorry in advance.

For this, I’m going chronologically, but I’ll mark it clearly if you wanna just read specific bits, I don’t blame anyone who wants to skip sections it is a lot of text. With that said, let’s begin~

1st: Spanish.

My first experience learning language was in Primary school, at aged 10 (due to a late birthday) when we were surprised by a sparkly new class that wasn’t offered in the school before. Spanish. I don’t remember much from this point being nearly 14 years ago but I remember finding the class difficult because the teacher wasn’t very approachable and seemed to play favourites. At least in the context of only helping certain pupils rather than all the pupils. I picked up a few things, like 1-10 and some animal names but that was about it.

I continued Spanish in High school as it was a mandatory subject in the first 2 years, I learned more from these classes mostly I think because they were more used to teaching the subject but I can’t say that with any certainty. I have mixed memories from this time as we were forced to endless exercises that didn’t explain anything, yes/no style corrections which don’t help anyone, and my teacher told me off for knowing the answer (I still remember this clearly, she asked what the word for fish was, I said pez. Then she asked what the plural was, I said peces and she scolded me for knowing that. To this day, I don’t know why) so that was traumatising for me and meant I didn’t speak up in class again for well over a year.

At this point I’m 4 years-ish into Spanish and I think I’m doing okay, I can do the homework and the exercises with minimal issue (not always correct, but was done in a reasonable time) and we get to picking our subjects for our exams. At which point, my teacher who was talking to everyone about their choices as most did (this was to explain the exam courses and what to expect so you know what you’re choosing, which I think was a nice thing but they stopped doing this sadly) and when it was my turn, it was “implied” that if I picked the subject I wouldn’t be allowed to take the class. I was told that I wasn’t smart enough to pass so I couldn’t take either language course and that I’d to pick another department.

This knocked any confidence I had with languages, I thought I’d been doing okay, at parents night I always had good comments so I don’t know what prompted this delightful comment. And with it being their word against mine I couldn’t prove it was said, but I knew the school would have sided with them anyway. This is also the reason I have Spanish as a want to learn rather than can speak because aside from my fish trauma, I can count to 99 and do basic insa chitchat and that’s all I retained. Oh and the words for library and sharpener, because my favourite place is a library and un sacapuntas is just something that’s always amused me for reasons unknown.

2nd: Korean

So, fun fact, I’m surprised that Korean’s here because I actually had been counting it as 3rd until I actually thought about it for this. My derpiness aside, Korean comes in at the beginning of my 5th year so would be late 2011 (Our school year starts mid-August) when my friend introduced me to K-Pop and oh boy my mp3 player has never looked the same since. It was a serious exam year, so no great progress was possible, especially with trying to get into college. I didn’t find TTMIK till much later than this but for this point in time, I found the lyrics on live performances really intriguing. I mean it’s nothing I was used to seeing on our equivalent shows, they never had the lyrics up for songs, in fact I don’t remember them telling you the artist half the time was towards the end of their broadcasting time. That tangent aside, the words just looked really beautiful and by September that year I was enamoured by the sound of the language, so I started looking up things about Korean in between the onslaught of homework and assessments. Also according to old social media I was subconsciously singing it from the December onwards, so good to know that that was always a thing I did. It took me until March to be able to read enough to write and even then it crude as anything. There’s very little trace of anything from that time but I struggle to read what there is.

Sadly this is where things end here for now, exams and getting into college and having space to breathe after years of being up till 2am trying to get all my work done and not having weekends cause I had to study too kind of pushed it to the back burner. What can I say, it was the first actually free summer I’d had in 5 years and I wanted it to be a detox before college started just in case it was the same set up of no sleep. And then I bumped into the aforementioned Spanish teacher again over the summer who made a comment to the effect of “Bet you’re glad you didn’t take Spanish, otherwise you’d have a nasty fail on your results.” Which for one annoyed me because it implied I had any say in the matter, but also removed any confidence I had regained since our last encounter.

3rd: Japanese

Now this is going to be really underwhelming, you’ve been warned. So I picked up Japanese in exam season 2012 (’cause I clearly didn’t have enough going on) and if I recall correctly used Japanesepod101 for it. I just followed their podcasts so I never learned to read just speaking/listening really. I suppose the 3 alphabets scared me off some, still kinda does scare me but I have a plan of action now so it’s a long term goal rather than wishful/fearful thinking. Still not sure what prompted this though, maybe an anime revival, or just finally caving since I’d wanted to for years.

Anyway, I got through the most basic level on JP101, and a little into the next one when as previous stated getting into college/return of the Spanish teacher caused a little bit of a crisis and I fell away from languages. I also have retained basically no Japanese, and this bothers me so I look forward to getting back to where I was.

2nd (again): Korean

Oh hi, Korean’s back again. Okay this time it’s gonna be a little longer, this goes up until the day I’m posting this. So I picked Korean back up in 2013. At this point I found TTMIK (through yahoo answers would you believe, they hadn’t come up in my search for learning Korean back then). I did level 1 and then I think only got to lesson 4 of level 2 before college hit like a tonne of bricks. And then we have another gap.

We come back in yet again in 2017. I never stopped listening to K-pop, sorta dipped in and out of dramas in that time very lazily, but didn’t really learn anything between 2013-2017. I had to reteach myself to read because it was really hazy and only half remembered, no surprise though it had been more than 5 years since I’d really touched on it at that point.

So once I could comfortably read again, I was confident to go ahead and redo level 1. I did all 25 lessons in 2 weeks. Level 2 however, that caused more trouble. Admittedly I was really ill at this point, I actually had to stop working because of it so level 2 was a lot slower than I wanted or even expected. I knew it was basically new ground in level 2 but even so it was difficult to see the time between lessons, and how much work it was to understand lessons progressively increasing.

I had hoped to get it done in 6 weeks, but it took about a year. Even now some things I still struggle with and get muddled, though it’s getting better with time which is reassuring. At this point my motivation was crippled. I wasn’t progressing, I was barely looking at Korean and I honestly thought about quitting. It also wasn’t helping that the studygram that had once been an ally turned foe showing me all the work everyone else was doing while I was doing nothing at all.

I have now since learned that it doesn’t have to be something demotivating. If someone wants to study 13 hours a day, fantastic! But that’s not for me. Some days are easier than others, I am still in recovery and that’s okay. Some days I can do 4 hours no trouble, others 5 minutes seems impossible. But I should have days off, I shouldn’t make myself ill worrying about studying. I should have time for games, and painting, and wandering round the woods with my camera, and general self care things.

In saying this, I’m guilty of saying this then ignoring it. Especially since I started using italki, where I’d have to learn 100 words, write a presentation and answer 30 questions in a week. I should push myself to try and do the homework, but at the same time, I have other things to do too and I shouldn’t torture myself with cramming homework and nothing else cause it takes so long to try and do the stuff that’s physically handed in let alone anything else.

Don’t get me wrong I love my tutor, she’s the only person who has me laughing at my mistakes, has me trying to use the language because I was terrified of doing that before. Well, I still somewhat am, but it’s getting better. Sometimes the workload is a little crazy, funny how I wanted homework now I just want to throw it all away and just do what I feel I need with the language between lessons. Not sure if it’s a phase or the initial excitement’s wore off and it’s not like wading quicksand.

So, before I start rambling I’m going to have a tl;dr summery here in regards to Korean this year.

The good from this year is hands down the studygram/studyblr community. Before I was annoying people talking about or posting about studying Korean, and these communities offered me a safe welcoming place to be where I could discuss what I was learning, and even get help when needed. I will always be eternally grateful to those who answer my questions in relation to anything, be it being unable to read handwriting, or grammar, or vocab confusion or something as simple as recommendations.

Slightly less good, no fault of Korean admittedly, probably is the difficulty in understanding and retaining information. Most of it is down to being ill. The rest, just generally me being confused because the way our schools teach English, so I don’t really know the different word classes and the rules for each. I can’t look at a word and be like, that’s an adverb, or even if I’m told ‘oh this is and adjective’ I really don’t know what to do with that information. I can do noun, and verb that’s about it. Not for lack of trying though, I have since tried to teach myself, and I have a cheat sheet but I can’t use that in a conversation so hardly a great use. It also means forming sentences is quite tricky, since if one type of word must follow another to be grammatically correct, or even make sense I have no clue about it.

Even further from good, and not something I like to dwell on too long, I feel like I’m cheating with Korean 95% of the time. With Spanish, I never had to double check anything, I could form sentences, and say what I wanted with what I knew and it was fine, but with Korean, it’s like the exactly opposite. I don’t trust myself to write anything without quadruple checking it. I wish I could just write sentences and just look up words/grammar as I need them but no every word of every sentence and even then it’s still flooded with mistakes which doesn’t help me try and wean bad habits.

So yeah I think that about wraps up Korean, but it doesn’t sound particularly good in this explanation. Hopefully next year it’s better.

4th: Turkish

Langjam number 1 (for me), and I had Turkish. Delightful experience, granted I was very ill. I had the flu that weekend because of course it had to hit that weekend, I’m not allowed to have plans apparently. But it was fun, I learned how much of a time sink grammatical concepts are. I feel like all I did was learn grammar that weekend, and I don’t remember any of it, but I still have the sentence I made at the end of the weekend:

“Merhaba, adım Rosie. Hastayım bu yüzden fazla çalışmadım. Ama, Türkçe çalışmaktan mutluyum.”

Not going to lie, all I remember clearly is Merhaba, but that’s better than nothing. I would love to go back and do it properly, or at least without the flu. One of my best friends, a very sweet bean is from Turkey and I’d love to be able to try and speak to them in Turkish a little since they speak English every day for me and yeah I’d love to be able to chat to them a little (though I still can’t type it on my laptop properly so that should perhaps be task one on returning to it).

I don’t know when I’ll go back to Turkish, but I kept all my resources and my notebook so it should be good when I do. Perhaps when I get to an intermediate level in Korean Turkish can resurface, though don’t hold me to that I may just wanna do it randomly. 

That’s it for now! Bet you’re glad you don’t have to read anymore of my boring language past ;) If I missed anything, or didn’t entirely answer the question you asked, just let me know and I’ll try and get back to you as soon as possible.  Thank you for reading, have some cookies and happy learning~ ♡