#I hope what they go through gets worse cause ain’t no way you bitch and cry about I’m so sad then go IN THE SAME BREATH BE LIKE

[kavehater]

“You don’t know what they’ve been through so stop attacking them” what ☠️ after they laughed in the face of the person and claimed it to be stupid that they self harmed in the past GIVE ME A BREAK

[divinecomedienne]

Help! I'm stuck on a plot point for my The English fic, "A Woman Stands Among the Trees." Anyone up for talking it through?

Here is a preview of the next chapter (after which I am stuck!).

NB: the poster above/in the story is actually from 1872 but shh!

Chapter 6

It was worse than a refusal. It was an insult, a taunt. Had to be. Eli knew it as soon as the Land Office clerk drew a cross on the map and slid it disdainfully across his desk. 

“That’s in the Sandhills. Can’t grow nothin’ there,” Eli said. He put the flat of his hand down on the map with a thud and pushed it firmly back in the clerk’s direction. “What else you got? Lookin’ for somethin’ near the Loup.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s all we have left. Take it or leave it,” said the clerk in a bored voice, turning over a page of the newspaper that was balanced on his knee. He was a very young man with a wispy beard that didn’t quite conceal the pimples on his chin. It seemed implausible to Eli that this puny boy—who was doubtless younger than his own eldest son would have been, had he lived—held Eli’s fate in his hands.

“Say the same to a white man, wouldja?” Eli pursued, narrowly restraining himself from snatching away the paper, in which the clerk now seemed to be totally absorbed. “‘Cause as an army veteran, I got jus’ the same right to make a claim.”

“I’d say the same to President Harrison himself as it’s the simple truth. The railroad companies own most of the land in the east of the state. If you want a different plot, you’ll have to buy it from them like everyone else,” said the clerk without looking up. “If they’ll sell to the likes of you, that is. Now clear off before I call the sheriff and have him take you in for harassing a public official.” 

Eli’s hands balled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. If he’d been on his own he’d have happily pummelled this insolent young ásaakiripahki. But then, if he’d been on his own, this would have been the end of the road, the outcome that he always half-suspected would arrive, leaving him unmoored and adrift with no particular reason to avoid being locked up or worse. 

He wasn’t alone though. He looked over his shoulder, out through the open door of the registry office to where Cornelia sat on the porch of the general stores opposite, waiting for him. As if to underline their improbable connection, she had his blanket over her shoulders, clasping it tightly at her neck against the cool October wind. Under the influence of Dr Houlihan’s medicine, her cheeks had more colour in them than he’d ever seen before, the lesions on her hands and chest were scarring over, and she hadn’t had a fever in weeks. He’d always thought—grudgingly, to begin with—that she was beautiful since the moment he’d set eyes on her, but now she was more radiant than ever because, for the first time in years, she had hope and enthusiasm for the future. Their future. 

Eli turned back to the clerk and said menacingly, “Gonna go check what you said. If I finds out you been lyin’ to me, I’ll be back.” 

The young man rolled his eyes. “By all means.”

Cornelia got up and hurried across the street to meet Eli as he emerged from the office. Neither the way he slammed the door behind him nor the thunderous look on his face boded well. She forgot the care she usually took not to touch him in public and gripped his hands. 

“What happened? What did they say?” 

“Said there ain’t no fertile land left ‘cause the railroad companies got it all. Lyin’ son-of-a-bitch. Wager the next English who walks through the door’ll get his 160 acres easy enough.”

A thought struck Cornelia. “You know, Eli, he might not actually be lying,” she said as mildly as possible, keen not to enrage him further. “I saw something while I was waiting for you.” She led him back across the street to the general store and pointed to a poster pasted to the wall. “Look.”

In the top portion was a large drawing of a landscape, surrounded by bold white and black text on curling blue banners. Eli could make out the word “Nebraska.”

He shrugged tetchily. “What’s it say?”

“Oh, sorry!” Cornelia blushed. She always forgot. “The large writing says, ‘Millions of acres. Iowa and Nebraska lands for sale on 10 years’ credit by the Burlington and Missouri River Railroad Company.’ And then it gives the conditions and an explanation of how to purchase.”

“Hmph. Even if it’s true, don’t change nothin’ for me. Still can’t get the decent plot of land that’s mine by rights.”

They were starting to attract disapproving looks from passers-by, so Cornelia took Eli’s elbow and led him into an alley at the side of the store. He stood there stiffly, arms folded, glaring into the distance. Cornelia put a gentle hand on his back.

“You know, you could still get your decent plot of land. I could buy it from the railway company. I have the money.”

The taut muscles under her palm relaxed just slightly. “Can’t let you do that. Spend your money on me.”

“Ah, but you see, it’s not my money. It’s my father’s. Gained through war and the exploitation of foreign lands, including this one. Though I’m to blame too, of course. When I was young, I encouraged him to invest in a business venture in America for silly, personal reasons. So, even if I didn’t feel the way I feel about you, I’d still want you to have it as a tiny and wholly inadequate recompense for all the harm perpetuated by men like my father against your people and the world in general.” She paused a moment and then continued: “Added to which, it would make my father furious if he ever found out what I’d spent his money on and why, so there’s a petty part of me that wants to do it for that reason alone.”

Eli looked at her, his frown replaced by the ghost of a smile. “Let me think on it,” he said.   

[silva-exspiravit]

I deleted my tumble because I tried leaving permanently and I didn’t wanna have tumble still on my phone. It obviously failed but I don’t wanna be here, my drinking has gotten worse and my attitude has changed and I’ve cut people off and isolated myself more than I already am. I give up and I don’t wanna be here anymore. I won’t go back to drugs but still I don’t wanna be here. I’ve lost people in my life that I never thought I could live without and I’ve tried so hard to continue to move forward and life my life and get through the days but I see no point to keep going and it’s been like that for a long time but really why am I still here. Do I deserve to be punished forever. I try so hard to live but I have nothing in my life to make life worth it. I’m literally already dead inside. I’ve been pretty low in life before but idk this time I’m at my lowest and I really don’t care. I’m drinking right now hoping if I kill this bottle before I go to sleep I won’t wake up. The thought of you runs through my head everyday and how life could be if we were still together but it’s just a fantasy now. I’m sorry you feel the way you do and I’m sorry if I caused it or the thought of me caused it but that shows right there even when I dont mean to I still cause issues. I have had to accept the fact you’re forever gone and I’m never gonna have you back and it is what it is but it’s hard knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you but that also makes me think life isn’t fair. Michael got someone he doesn’t deserve and I’m still living when I don’t deserve too. Life’s a bitch and it ain’t fair! I’m literally forever a dark broken soul. I wanna leave and be with my dad already. I have no one, I have no other half, I have no soulmate. The person who I thought was my soulmate isn’t my soulmate and even thinks she’s someone’s else’s soul mate. I don’t blame you for telling me the things you’ve told me but the two that have stuck permanently are you being with Michael and you thinking you and beau are soulmates. Even knowing all that i still wish to have you back and I’ll wish to have you back until the day I die but I also know I shouldn’t feel that way. You’ve had plenty of chances to comeback and you never came back and I guess that’s just life slapping me in the face letting me know I’ll never get you back. You have a fucking child with someone who doesn’t deserve you.

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[myckicade]

Prompt: Could you do a jealous Angel X Fiancée imagine? I love me some Angel!

A/N: Again, the bitch got away from me. Heh. Oh, well. This one was a lot of fun. They’re all fun, but… Well, you’ll see. I hope you enjoy!

Title: Neanderthal

Teaser: Okay, that’s cool. Bike parts. No reason to be irrational.

“Y’know, I love you, (y/n),” Angel begins, good-naturedly. His arm is slung over your shoulders as you exit the theatre. He’s in no rush to get anywhere, except maybe away from that mob of obnoxious movie patrons. “But, if you make me sit through another movie like that one? I may have to shoot one of us in the head.”

You burst out laughing, bringing a grin to Angel’s face. Damn, he loves hearing that sound, especially when he gets to be the one to cause it. “Such a romantic thing to say, Mister Reyes.”

Angel’s lips twist into a smug expression. “Yeah, I’m a regular Romeo.” He slides his free hand into his pants pocket, cocky as can be. And, why shouldn’t he be? With you under his arm, he feels like the King of the Goddamn Universe, thank him very much. “Try to contain yourself, though, ‘uh? The people don’t need to see you gettin’ all hot an’ bothered.”

The scoff that leaves your mouth is epic. “Your modesty is overwhelming.”

“I just speak the truth, querida,” he defends, patting your shoulder. “One more subtitle, and bang.” Motioning a gun with his thumb and index finger, Angel taps your temple. “Be worth the price a’ the bullet.”

“More like, it’ll save me the cost of this wedding.”

Angel grabs his chest, faking wounded. “Uhn! Looks like that bullet’s goin’ right through my heart!”

Another laugh escapes you, and you nudge his ribcage with your elbow. “Stop being so dramatic! Look. People are staring!”

“Ehhh, let ‘em.” Truthfully, he doesn’t give a shit. But, for the fuck of it, Angel takes a glance around the lobby of the theatre. And, yeah, okay, some fuckers are staring. Big fucking deal. Ain’t like he’s not used to it, right? The patch tends to draw attention. A beautiful woman draws even more. Put the two together? Shit. In this one-horse town, the two of you are a wardrobe slip away from Celebrity Status. “They probably ain’t never heard nobody threaten to off their girl on a date before, s’all.” You give him a little tsss, but let it go. The smile on your face is all he needs, to know that you know he’s only fucking around. He’ll cut off both his hands, if it means the difference between you being hurt, or not.

Well, okay, he’ll cut off one, and, like, he dunno’, EZ can cut off the other, or some shit like that.

Point is, nobody’s going to hurt you – with a bullet, or otherwise – while you’re Angel’s girl. And you are Angel’s girl. You’ve got Mama’s ring on your finger to prove it. Claim: staked. Territory: marked. Plain as day to every fucking man on the planet who wants to look your way.

Ouch. Okay, maybe Bishop had a point when he’d said Angel was two steps from pissing on you to prove his position. What had he called him? A meanderbull? The fuck even is that?

“Hey, (y/n), what’s a meanderbull?” he asks you. You’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met, so he knows that you’re gonna’ have the answer.

Unfortunately, you turn to him, wearing the most confused expression he’s ever seen. “What?” you laugh, which Angel has to pretend isn’t a direct shot to his ego. He casually scratches the back of his head.

“Bishop said it, the other day.” He shrugs, trying to cover the feeling of dumb, dumb, dumb that’s marching through his mind. Heat is creeping over his ears, and he regrets having opened his mouth, in the first place. “Nevermind. I probably heard him wrong.”

“I should hope so.” Your tone is amused, deeply so. Angel isn’t sure whether that makes him feel better, or worse. “But, I’ll ask him about it, tomorrow.”

Eh? Angel frowns. “Tomorrow? Where do you plan on crossin’ paths with Bishop, tomorrow?”

“Some new parts are coming in for his bike,” you reply, unbothered. Like it’s totally normal that Bishop will be at the store. Like he’s picking fucking daffodils, or somethin’. “Said he’d come by and pick them up.”

Okay. Okay, that’s cool. Bike parts. No reason to be irrational. All the guys go to your store to get parts, from time to time. Granted, you don’t normally mention these visits. Bishop, though? Shit. Angel can think of half a dozen times you’ve mentioned him this week, alone.

“Bishop said something about doing a Club dinner. Cook-out, I think? What should we bring?”

“You know, Taza was telling me about this eat-in place that just opened. He says Bishop loves it. Keeps recommending it to everybody. You wanna’ try it, tonight?”

“I was talking to Bishop today, and he mentioned this movie he thinks we’ll like.”

Now, bike parts. Fucking bike parts. “I’ll ask him, tomorrow.” Jesus Fucking H. Christ.

It’s like he can’t get away from it. It’s never really a problem, until it is, until El Presidente’s name gets brought up. Again. And it’s becoming so regular, it’s frightening. It’s like the guy is invading your relationship, lately, without even being present. Angel might not be the smartest dude on the block, but he’s pretty sure he’s never agreed to one of those thruple things. (Pretty sure). First time he finds you and Bishop waiting in bed for him to come home? Fuck that shit. He’ll call it quits, right then and there.

And, the fuck?! Did he really just have that thought?!

“Angel?”

Apparently, he’s thinking so loud, he’s drowned you out. Won’t mention how often that happens, though.

“Yeah, hermosa?” he asks, cluing back in. Hopefully, he hasn’t missed too much. Unless it’s about Bishop. He can miss all that, no sweat.

Heh. Maybe, he considers, he ought to just tune right back out. More thought, less Bishop.

“I, uh… I asked if you wanted to get some take-out, on the way home?” You have an eyebrow raised as you give him an assessing stare, which makes Angel feel downright uncomfortable. It’s always like you know, like you see all his shit, swirling around in his head, even when he’s going for all that Joe Cool bull. Makes him wanna’ duck and hide. It’s probably just paranoia. That’s what EZ says, that he’s just being paranoid. You’re a woman who loves him, not a mind-reader. Not a snake charmer, or a fucking voodoo priestess. Even still, the less you know, the better.

Angel shrugs, grabbing his helmet. “Yeah, sure,” he lies. “Where do you wanna’ go?” He’ll let you decide, without his own input. Suddenly, he’s not all that hungry, anymore.

*

By the next morning, Angel has mostly forgotten about his sour mood from the night before. Certain people were left out of conversation for the remainder of the evening, and you’d gone to bed with a kiss, and a snuggle. He has to get up much earlier than he’s comfortable with. He’d rather stay in bed with you, and have a few rounds of half-drowsy sex. Only thing he likes better than you riding his dick like your life depends on it, is having you pliant and agreeable before the sun comes up, so that he can-

Yep, if he goes down that road, he’ll never make it to the clubhouse on time. It’s nothing new, but he does have a full schedule this morning. Things to drop off, things to pick up… And, you have another date planned for tonight, if all goes smoothly today. If nobody gets their ass shot, or kidnapped, or on a hit list.

Mn. He leads a charmed life.

Things are about how he expects, at the clubhouse. He hooks up with Coco and EZ, and they drag across town to complete this task, and that. Coco looks like hammered shit, mumbling here and there about not understanding his girl. Angel can’t imagine that they got in a fight, but, when pressed, Coco doesn’t wanna’ talk about it, so Angel lets it go. EZ is, as always, bright as a fucking penny, ready to do his job, and then some. Throw in a few somersaults – bike, and all – while he’s at it. Super-fucking-man to the rescue. And, here’s Angel, caught between two extremes of being. (He’s just horny, and impatient, and mad he has to work today, at all).

They’re able to pull back into the scrap yard around one in the afternoon. He wants a cold drink, and a fucking breather, and, seeing as no one greets them on the porch with yet another fun-filled task, he thinks he just might get that shot.

Hey, nobody says his hopeful thought of the day has to be for some greater good.

EZ makes for his trailer, and Coco has some excuse about checking in with his kid, leaving Angel to head for the clubhouse, solo. He’s two steps from the door, when he hears the yard gate being pulled open, and car tires crunching over the gravel. Glancing back, he breaks out in a small grin. It’s your vehicle, easing closer to the building, a sight that makes the last few hours worthwhile. He practically bounds his way back down the stairs, pulling you into his arms, the second you’re out of your seat.

“Well, hello, there,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around Angel’s middle, and leaning up on your toes for a little smooch. He’s all too happy to oblige, happy to see you. But, he’d be a total liar to say that it isn’t partly from the want to press your bodies as close together as possible.

“Hey, hermosa,” he greets, nuzzling at your hair. “You bringin’ me lunch?” He’s teasing – and, okay, maybe he’s the slightest bit hopeful. You know all the best joints in town, and have a habit of making sure Angel ingests something more nutritious than booze and microwavable pizza bagels.

You place your hands against Angel’s chest, looking up at him from behind your sunglasses. “Hey, I’d love to go get something, if you have a minute?” you agree. “My treat.”

Angel chuckles. “You’re my kinda’ girl, (y/n).” He pulls back, just enough to take your hand. “C’mon. We’ll take my bike.” He doesn’t expect the resistance you give him as he begins to walk, not quite moving from your spot. He looks back over his shoulder. “You comin’, or what?”

“In a minute,” you reply, letting go of Angel’s hand. “I actually came here to see Bishop. Is he around?”

And, there goes his stomach, plummeting to the dirt. Bishop. Fucking Bishop? Again?

Angel goes to say something smart - he’s not sure what, but it’ll be fucking brilliant, thanks - only to be cut off by the voice of the last fucking motherfucker he wants to hear from, right now.

“(Y/n)!” Fucking. Bishop. He’s coming out of the clubhouse, with Taza not two steps behind him. Angel shoots the older of the two an ugly look, wondering why he couldn’t have kept their King inside. Taza catches the expression, and frowns, confused. Angel rolls his eyes. Can’t tell their leaders shit. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, today?”

You’re already leaning back into your car, stretching across to the passenger seat. It gives a gorgeous view of your ass, and you’re wearing Those Jeans, and, yeah, it’s petty as fuck, but Angel not-so-subtly slides himself between that view and Bishop’s line of sight. Nobody needs to see that ass, but him. Your fiancé.

Climbing back out, you nearly bump into Angel, who is suddenly in your way. But you brush it off, and give Bishop a bright smile. “The truck showed up early, so I thought I’d bring your parts by!” You hold a shipping box under one arm as you close your car door. Angel is about to offer to help you carry it, put on his best Knight in Shining Armour routine, when you just… breeze right around him.

Right to Bishop.

If Angel’s blood hadn’t been boiling, a second ago, it’s fucking scalding, now.

Bishop has this grin on his face as he takes the package. He never wears that fucking expression. Fucking never, not unless he’s three sheets to the goddamned wind, or wooing some bitch he ain’t even gonna’ remember, come morning. And he’s directing it at you. And he’s stone-cold fucking sober.

“Look at you,” Bishop replies, throwing his free arm around your shoulders. “You’re a gem, do you know that?” You giggle – fucking giggle – and Bishop looks over his shoulder to Taza. “Isn’t she a gem?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s something special, all right,” Taza agrees.

Bishop suddenly has his eyes on Angel. He points at the younger man, over your shoulder. “You’d best be careful, before I snatch this one from you.”

“Oh, stop,” you snicker, playfully shoving at Bishop’s chest.

Angel can’t believe what he’s hearing. What he’s seeing. His hands clench into fists at his sides. He can’t remember the last time he was this pissed. And, worse over, he can’t do anything about it! He knows better than to think he and Bishop can come to blows over this, much as he’d like nothing more than to knock the shorter Mayan into next week. And, you. You’re letting this all happen! You’ve got an arm around Bishop’s back, clear as fucking day, and, as you look up, Bishop picks this exact second to smack a quick kiss right on your cheek.

And, you laugh.

You. Fucking. Laugh.

Angel is so far passed seeing red, he’s practically colourblind. It ain’t Bishop’s job to be making you laugh. He ain’t supposed to be putting his hands on you, let alone his fucking mouth. Steal you away. How the fuck could he even manage that? He’s too old to keep you satisfied, he has to be. Sure, he’s got experience. And, yeah, you two have a bit of history. Angel isn’t really sure the extent of it, hasn’t really cared, until now. It’s enough that you are friendly, and share recipes, and eateries, and fucking movies. Hell, you traded books by some dead Roman Emperor, a few months back. Whereas Angel, shit, he’s not sure when the last time was that he picked up a book, for a purpose that didn’t involve leveling off the coffee table in the living room. He’s dumb. He gets that. He doesn’t need the fucking reminder. So, okay, Bishop has smarts in his corner, and charm, and confidence, and fuck, if Angel doesn’t do something else, right fucking now, he’s going to find himself in a hole in the desert. And, wouldn’t Bishop just love that? Perfect chance to leap all over you.

Nope. Nope. He’s gotta’ move.

“Yo, I’ll be inside,” he sneers, turning away from the three of you. He stomps his way to the clubhouse, suddenly very fucking sorry he’d ever turned around when you came in. Lunch. Why couldn’t you have just gone to lunch? He forces the door open, and bellows, “Somebody! Get me a fucking beer!”

Fuck this shit. Fuck all this shit.

*

Meanwhile, back in the driveway, you watch Angel’s retreat. You don’t say a word to him, neither do Bishop or Taza. It isn’t until you hear Angel scream for a drink, that Taza snorts a laugh.

“That was brutal,” he chuckles, glancing back to you. “Still haven’t forgiven him, yet, huh?”

You scoff. “Nah, I got over it, a while ago,” you confirm, with a smirk. “Now, I’m just having fun.” You look to Bishop, next. “I think we sold it, pretty well, huh?”

It’s Bishop’s turn to laugh. “I think the kiss really put him over the top.” He shifts on his feet, a little bit, arm still slung across your shoulders. There’s no telling if Angel might still be looking, and Bishop really doesn’t want to let this go, yet. “Felt good, though. Little bastard deserves it.”

Taza smirks. “So, you’re the one who hasn’t forgiven him, then?”

To this, Bishop shrugs. “He knows better than to touch what isn’t his.” Looking back to you, he puts on his best grin. “Ready to go collect the little pussy?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” Your own arm stays right where it is, against Bishop’s back, as the three of you start for the clubhouse. “I owe the big baby lunch.”

All in all, you consider, it has been a successful trip. Parts are delivered, you’re getting to see a couple of your friends, and Angel has caught a little more hell. You love the man, you truly do, but… Bishop is right. Angel ought to know not to touch what isn’t his. Moreover, to forget about what is his, in the process. Eventually, you’ll tell him what’s up. Eventually, he’ll understand. But, for now? Let him suffer. Because, in the end, Angel needs to learn…

This is just what he gets for trying to sweet-talk Bishop’s new girl, right in front of the man’s nose, without thinking you would ever find out.

You’re nearly to the stairs, strolling leisurely, when you remember the other reason you came by. “Oh, Bishop, what the hell is a meanderbull?”

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[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Be Very Afraid

This is the best story arc episode in season three and arguably the best written episode since The Great Tree, but it’s still season three so there are still issues with it. 

Summary: When Zhan Tiri tells Cassandra she must destroy Rapunzel in order to wield the Moonstone's true power, Cassandra discovers that she can create, with fear, red rock spikes that cause fear and freeze their victims. Varian discovers the red rocks and teams up with Rapunzel to use his amber solution on them. Meanwhile, Eugene and Lance decide to throw a talent show to distract everyone from their fears. 

Why Can’t Cassandra Control The Rocks?

The series never gives an actual explanation for this. She could control them just fine in Rapunzel’s Return, so what’s changed? 

There is No Destiny!

There’s no prophecy, no oracle, no grand design nor master of fate to fight back against; the characters literally have no reason to do what they do. If you want destiny to be a goal then you have to establish what that destiny is first. 

What does Cassandra want? How does this connect back to Gothel, Rapunzel, and the Moonstone? Why she just failing about like an idiot here? Did she not have a plan when she threw her life away for this stupid rock? 

And of course Zhan Tiri is lying here, but why should Cassandra believe her? What does she gain by listening to a creepy ghost girl? This ‘destiny’ has not been established, so therefore there’s no hook nor bait for Zhan Tiri to trap her with. 

Leading directly into “you should kill your bestie’ should logically put Cassandra off of Zhan Tiri’s advice for good because Zhan Tiri isn’t actually offering anything. Temptation requires the person to be, you know, tempted by what they want, but Cassandra doesn’t know what she wants so none of this makes sense. 

The writing is desperately trying to make Cass sympathetic here, but all it winds up doing is making her look like a moron instead. 

This Isn’t Consistent

Not only does this fail to explain why Cass could control the rocks previously but no longer can, but it’s also contradicted just a couple of episodes later with the incantation bullshit. 

You need an established magic system in place in order for the character’s actions to make sense show!

This Ultimately Goes Nowhere

Ignoring how Varian should have been in season two and how translating the scroll should have led to freeing his father, which we’ve talked about previously; this subplot should have had more impact on the narrative than it actually did. Yes, Varian’s translation winds up driving the plot of Cassandra’s Revenge, but 90% of that episode winds up being utterly pointless, including the incantations themselves, so.... 

I Like This Sequence; Shame It Winds Up Being Undermined Later  

Unlike the majority of dream sequences in this show, this nightmare has an actual point. It more firmly establishes Varian’s fears and gives the audience some insight into what happened to him back in season one. Something we were sorely lacking. It also becomes the core conflict and drive of Varian’s character development through out the episode. 

Only for the episode to ignore Varian’s real issues and fail to adequately address anything. By series end this plot point will be completely forgotten. The show acts like bringing it up once and then never acknowledging it ever again just magically revolves Varian’s character arc. It doesn’t.  

So How Come Quirin Isn’t Affected By the Rocks? 

He’s right there next to them and he shows no reaction to them at all. You’re telling me the man who lost his home twice to these things, almost died to them, and nearly lost his only child because of them, is just not going to respond to new creepy red ones popping up? 

Quirin would have a treasure trove of trauma to explore in his own right, that undoubtedly would connect back to Varian’s own issues, but we’re just going to ignore it and have Quirin off screen for the majority of the episode?

Are These New Character Models?

Are you shitting me!? 

They built five new models just for a short two minute scene, one where none of the new characters are named nor given lines, only to never appear ever again!

What the fuck? Why did you waste time and money on this? What happened to all of the other background characters you already built? Did a bunch of season one models just get lost or deleted or something? 

Also why are they all wearing green? Is it St. Paddy’s Day? 

This Plot Point Wasn’t Established Enough Beforehand

Look, I’ll buy that there are people in Corona who still blame Varian for what happened in season one and for the Sapoiran take over. I mean they’re only getting half the story and were directly effected by his actions whether or not he intended harm to them. But we needed to see more of it beyond just this one scene.

No one was bullying him in Lost Treasure or The King and Queen of Hearts, so for all purposes he appeared to be integrated back into society, and now you’re telling me he’s not and that Rapunzel risked his well being by forcing him to interact with people who were hostile to him back in Lost Treasure? 

And yeah you can’t really move Lost Treasure back any further than it already is cause that’d leave a giant hole in the wall of the throne room for over a year. Which also makes no sense either. 

Or hey, maybe it’s just Feldspar being an asshole. In which case why should Varian or the audience care? 

Eugene is Wasted

Look I understand that there’s only twenty five minutes to tell this story and that Eugene isn’t the focus of the episode. I also understand that the B-plot is meant to be comedic in order to relive tension from the A plot, but this wasn’t the best way to go about it. 

The B plot swings too far wide in the other direction that it dilutes the tension too much. The A plot now has to work over time to keep the urgency going. I could understand it, if the show wanted start off with small fears first, but it needed to ramp up the drama as it got closer to the climax, not under cut it. 

We never see Eugene freak out over anything other this this cowlick. In fact we never see him scared of anything else beyond this one scene, which undermines Rapunzel’s arc this episode as she’s suppose to be the only one bottling things in. What makes Eugene so special that he can keep a lid on it with out consequences, or are you telling me that a dumb cowlick is his only fear? 

Either answer is stupid. 

I Hope You Have Copies of the Map

You went through all that trouble to steal the journal for this very reason and now here you are prancing around without it like it’s not that big of deal. Way to undermined past story arcs. 

It’s like the writers know that season one was their most successful season, and therefore try to make callbacks to it whenever they can, to make up for ignoring it in season two completely, but they still don’t want to actually acknowledge anything that happened during that season so they just refer to it in the laziest way possible, rendering the previous events pointless. 

So Close and Yet So Far

I’m mainly posting this whole conversation so that you dear readers will have context for what I talk about next. 

For you see, this scene starts out okay and it looks like we’re finally going to address the elephant in the room regarding Rapunzel’s involvement in Varian’s past trauma, only for the scene to immediately side step the issue all together and not resolve the conflict at all. 

No! Don’t Interrupt; Listen! 

Or at least go all the way and accept some of the blame yourself. 

It may look like Rapunzel is comforting Varian here on a superficial level, but without her verballing acknowledging what she did wrong, this action just winds up taking the focus off of Varian and what he needs and places it upon Rapunzel, both narratively and physically.

So what happens is that, in universe, it comes across like she’s just consoling Varian for her own personal comfort rather than genuinely trying to help. 

Why Would Varian Ever Think This? 

Okay, first off this has nothing to do with what Varian was talking about previously. Why would he jump from discussing his trauma to praising Rapunzel? You know the woman who is responsible for said trauma? 

Secondly, this switches the focus of the conflict off of Varian’s specific trauma and makes it about a generic “over coming fear” lesson mixed with an out of place validation issue. Which is not what’s actually needed for his character development; nor for Rapunzel’s for that matter. 

Third, being the sundrop has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. Her being born with magical powers was an accident of fate, same as her being royalty. She’s not innately better than anybody else because of this and nobody has any narrative reason to assume otherwise. Especially since her powers are utterly disconnected from her actual personality, choices, and actions. All three of which have become unbearably unpleasant by the last season. 

Finally, Varian, of all people should be the last person on earth to ever think so highly of Rapunzel. Them being friends again is already pushing believability. Him suddenly kissing her ass the same as everyone else this season is just flat out bad writing.  

Varian knows better than anybody what an awful person Rapunzel is. He’s seen her at her worse. He’s seen her not live up to her hypocritical ideals. He knows the larger problems that steam from placing people in power on pedestals. As her former victim, Varian by all accounts should be the one person who can bring Rapunzel down to earth and poke holes into her ego, even while still being her friend. Especially while still being her friend. She needs that! Writing Varian as another blind Rapunzel stan is not only writing him out of character, but it also damages Rapunzel’s own development. 

Also Varian hates magic. Why would he now worship someone just for having magic? 

THIS AIN’T ABOUT YOU BITCH!!!

I literally yelled that at my tv screen when I first saw this scene. Those were my exact words upon the episode’s first airing. And believe it or not, I’m not one to usually scream obscenities at inanimate objects. 

I understand what the writers were trying to accomplish here. They wanted Rapunzel to ease the tension by saying something funny and to make Varian laugh to distract him from his woes; thereby defusing the situation. But it doesn’t work because of season three’s tendency to make Rapunzel the most egotistical, smug, self-centered, abusive, self-righteous twat in the show. 

It really boggles the mind just how unaware the writing is. Like, surely no one makes their protagonist this unlikable on accident. Clearly they meant for Rapunzel to be an ass on purpose right?  They wanted Cass to have a reason to hate her so they decided to make her insufferable to the viewer in a misguided attempt to make Cass more sympathetic? Right? 

Then where is the bloody comeuppance? 

I genuinely thought this was all going to lead somewhere. That Rapunzel was going to learn to be a better person and I would have been fine by that. I would have applauded the show if they had turned her into an asshole intentionally so that they could teach a mature and nuanced lesson about morality. 

But they didn’t, and here I am; still shaking my head in confusion over a year later. 

Seriously what the fuck happened behind the scenes to cause this? How can processionals paid by the largest animation company in the world be so incompetent? 

Having Trauma is Not the Same Thing as Having a Phobia  

This is where Varian’s arc falls apart. Not only does the episode fail to have Rapunzel acknowledge her past wrongs for a second time, but it also completely mishandles Varian’s trauma because it equates it to being an irrational fear. One that can be overcome through pure force of will at that, same as Lance and everyone else’s fears in the episode. 

Ok first off Varian’s fear isn’t irrational. He even just said so at the start of the conversation. Varian’s trauma is very real, it’s not a hypothetical unlike clown-spiders and cowlicks. Also has been given very little reassurance that it won't happen again. Varian has no reason to trust Rapunzel or anybody else in the show. They never owned up to abandoning him previously, and both he and the audience have little reason to believe that Rapunzel wouldn’t just neglect him again if it was convenient for her.   

Secondly one does not simply ‘overcome’ trauma. Oh you can deal with trauma, you can manage it and learn to live with it. But it never goes away. It doesn’t magically disappear just because you ‘faced it’. 

In fact confronting it head on is actually the opposite of what your suppose to do when going through something traumatic. Studies have shown that distracting your mind after a car crash or what have you actually helps with PTSD later on. And ‘dealing with it” doesn’t mean ignoring the problem out right, but rather learning how to function despite the pain. 

But as the show acts like Varian’s trauma never even existed after this episode. 

This Doesn’t Resolve Anything!

What does “being special” have to with fear? How does this help Varian with his trauma? Empty validation has nothing to with what we were just discussing. 

Everyone gets afraid. Everyone has trauma of some sort. Are you telling me that my need for therapy some 20 years after being physically assaulted is just because I’m not special enough? Fuck you show! 

Moreover, this doesn’t resolve the story arc from season one. Varian and Rapunzel’s conflict with each other has nothing to do with self esteem. It was about personal responsibility, conflicting needs, and abuse. Yes, self image and acceptance was a small factor in their motivations, but it was never the driving goal behind their decisions. 

This is yet another broken narrative promise to the audience. There’s no closure to be had from this and leaves the viewer wanting, if not outright frustrated. 

In order to justify this exchange fans have to ‘read between the lines’ and make shit up in order for any of this to make any sense. People who still defend season three do by doing all the heavy lifting that writers themselves should be doing. 

If it’s not on screen, it doesn’t count. 

If Rapunzel never apologizes on screen, then she never apologized. If Rapunzel never checked up on Varian on screen, then she neglected him outright. If Rapunzel never acknowledges her wrong doings on screen, then she’s never learned anything. The characters pretending like she has doesn’t make it so. 

Why Does Cassandra Even Want a Destiny? 

Yes, Zhan Tiri is lying, there is no destiny, but Zhan Tiri being a liar doesn’t absolve Cassandra of her own actions. 

Cassandra herself believes in destiny and is looking for her’s, but why? 

Why does she want a destiny? What is this destiny she’s after? Why does she believe such a thing exists? What does she believe it’ll gain her? Why is she willing to risk so much for such a vague goal? What does any of this have to do with the moonstone or her mother? How does this destiny connect back with her personal feud with Rapunzel? 

It’s all disjointed and confused. Nothing lines up. It’s like the writers just had this dart board full of ideas for Cassandra’s villain arc, but couldn’t decide on which one to go with, so they just threw darts randomly each episode and went with whatever stuck for any given scene.

“Oh she want’s revenge for her mother during this scene, or wait no, she’s actually looking for destiny this episode?” “What destiny?” “Who knows. Now for this scene we need her to be sad because reasons...” “What reason?” “I don't care, make something up... Uuuuh, she’s sad cause she’s not a royal guard still” “But she became a guard during season one.” “Ignore that. Kids won’t remember. Now she needs to be angry and threating here” “Why?” “Because it’ll look cool.” “But why is she angry?” “Cause it looks cool Bob! Geez! Oh but she still needs to be sympathetic so give her a frowny face afterwards. Just have Zhan Tiri remind her how much she hates Rapunzel later, so as to egg her on and keep her doing stupid shit?”  “But why does she hate Rapunzel?”  “Do I have to think of everything BOB!!!???”  

There, there’s my non-so-accurate behind the scene’s glimpse into the Tangled writer’s room when discussing Cassandra’s arc. I could be wrong. There could have been some intricate and complex plan thought out that just didn’t make it onto the screen for whatever reason, or maybe everyone involved was so far up their own ass that they just forgot to give their main villain an actual reason for being the villain. But regardless the over all effect is that Cassandra is handed the idiot ball for a whole freaken season in order to even have a conflict and that is never good writing; or rather she’s hit in the head with it repeatedly. 

This Actually Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Zhan Tiri’s short term goal is to be released from her dimensional prison and apparently she needs Cass and Raps to fight into order to do this. This was never established before hand and goes against her disciples pervious plans, but whatever. One could argue that this is just a lie in order to get them to fight later... 

However, this lie jeopardizes her long term goal. She eventually wants to wield both the moonstone and the sundrop herself in order to destroy Corona, but Rapunzel is the sundrop and you can only take her power during an ellipse, supposedly, which means if Cass actually succeeds in killing Rapunzel before then, then Zhan Tiri is up a creek without a paddle. Also if Cassandra did manage to steal Raps’ power with or without an ellipse then Zhan Tiri would still be out of luck. 

This was wholly unnecessary; you didn’t have to go from zero to sixty in one fell swoop. Have Zhan Tiri claim that fighting Rapunzel will award the power to the winner or something. There’s no need to bring up the ‘kill her’ option. That should logically just drive Cassandra away and puts Zhan Tiri’s plan at risk. 

The series wants to act like Zhan Tiri is this master manipulator, a chess master like Zantos or Palpatine, but she couldn’t even tie their shoes. Her plans make no sense and often contradict one another. They only work because the rest of the cast are reduced to imbeciles in order for them to work. 

This Plot Point Contradicts Season Two

His fear of spiders was establish early on, and I’ll accept the clown thing as there’s nothing to contradict it, but Lance has preformed numerous times before now and has never show stage fright. He’s a huge ham and back in Return of Quaid he mentioned how much loved acting and preforming and apparently been on stage before, so where does this fear of singing in public come from? Heck he sung in public just a few episodes ago in Rapunzel’s Return. 

If you have to sacrifice established character into order to make your plot work then you need a new plot. 

This Song is Nice; It Just Needed to Be in a Different Episode 

I’m glad Lance got a solo. He deserved one and the song is good. However it breaks the tension of the climax and gives the episode tonal whiplash. 

More than a song, Lance needed an actual focus episode in season three. One that was fully his. If anyone else shared it with him it needed to be Red and Angry, not Varian and Cass. 

Just imagine if this song came during an episode where he had to watch the girls. Imagine if he was singing it just for them. How much more impactful would that have been? 

Now imagine that we had a Rapunzel and Varian duet in it’s place here. That would have tied the episode together better and helped to further their own stories. Glenn Slater can write lyrics far better than Chris can write dialogue. I bet you a thousand to one Tangled the Series would have solved like half of it’s problems had Menken and Slater been allowed write and actual apology duet between Raps and Varian. 

Such a duet was proposed during Rapunzel’s Return but it could have worked here too, and you could have placed Lance’s solo in Day of the Animals or something, just leave Rapunzel out of that episode all together. 

Nothing honestly needed to be cut music wise, yet for some reason season three has less songs than the other seasons, even when counting the reprises, and they’re mostly shorter too. 

That’s mismanagement right there. Plain and simple. Someone at the top didn’t know how to balance the budget or resources and didn’t know where to the throw the money at. 

You Have a 70 Foot Shield Made of Magic Hair, Rapunzel

You couldn’t think to just block those rocks instead?

Giving your protagonist a big hero moment doesn’t work if they placed the person the have to save in jeopardy to begin with show. 

I Do Not Care About Rapunzel Right Now, Show

Yes, she’s the main character. Yes, her feud with Cass is the main conflict of the season and kicked off the episode. That does not mean that I automatically care about her personal feelings at this moment in time. 

Rapunzel has kept such a tight lid on her real feelings for the whole episode that this just comes out of nowhere. I was never waiting with baited breath for her to confess her deep dark secrets or whatever. 

It’s not even an interesting reveal. It’s just “Oh, see Rapunzel’s human too. She’s gets scared just like everybody else.”. I already fucking knew that, thanks. And what she’s afraid of isn’t even that compelling either; it’s a just a rip off of the prophecy dreams she had back in season one. The same ones that had no explanation and never furthered the story, so why should I care about this one?  

You have to earn the audience’s investment in your conflict. The character’s likability, as little as that may be currently, will only carry you so far, you have to establish shit first.  

Varian’s conflict has been the focus of the entire episode so far, and it’s a conflict that was set all the way back in season one, so of course that is what I’m invested in seeing get resolved. Rapunzel is once again just butting in and making it all about her when it’s not actually her story. 

And if you wanted it to be her story then you should have made her the actual focus to begin with and had her learn something by the end of it. 

This is Poor Choice of Words, Writers 

I could be generous here and pass this off as Rapunzel not fully believing in this prophecy. After all Corona’s destruction is still a hypothetical at this point and Cassandra really has left already. Since the episode is about fear, Rapunzel is of course more afraid of losing Cassandra’s friendship as it’s real tangible possibility. 

More than a possibility even, Rapunzel’s been dumped. Season three is a classic break up story, right down to the poor plotting and tunnel vision, hence why it’s so gay baity. 

However, this reading only carries so far. For starters this is Rapunzel’s what, fourth prophecy dream so far? Haven’t the past three already came true, so why would she think this one wouldn’t? 

Secondly, all that good grace goes right out the window once it becomes clear that, yes, Cassandra is indeed a threat; a threat that Rapunzel refuses to take seriously because she cares more about her own personal validation than her kingdom. 

Even as Cassandra does succeed in destroying Corona, and no doubt harms other people while at it, Rapunzel still is obsessed with ‘winning Cassandra back’. Oh and make no mistake, this is not because she actually cares about Cassandra as a person and her needs or feelings. Nope. Rapunzel just doesn’t like being dumped. 

Why Does Varian Need to Shove His Feelings Aside for Rapunzel’s Bullshit?

Rapunzel’s ‘confession’ has fuck all to do with Varian’s current issues. They do not connect in any way.  

Varian is dealing with real trauma, trauma that she helped cause, while Rapunzel is only dealing with a hypothetical prophecy and one very shallow, self-centered fear. There’s nothing to relate to here. Neither for Varian himself nor the audience. 

Yet for some undefined reason this is what gets Varian to ignore his PTSD flashbacks? What? 

This is once again break the narrative promise. I was promised closure for Varian’s story arc and instead of that the writers just brush it up under the rug. 

From the outside looking in this doesn’t come across as Varian ‘overcoming’ his ‘fear’. It looks like an abuse victim using learned helplessness to placate his abusers.

And yes, for the last time Rapunzel is Varian’s abuser. 

NEGLECT IS ABUSE!!! 

And and even though he is no longer her ‘responsibility’, she is still neglecting him emotionally as his supposed friend. 

Varian’s and Cassandra’s Stories Undermined Each Other’s 

Varian stopped the rocks. Rapunzel had nothing to do with it. Zhan Tiri blaming Rapunzel for it steals agency away from both her and Cassandra. 

However, if Rapunzel had used the hurt incantation to stop the rocks and Cassandra had felt it rom the other side, then you’d have something to back up Zhan Tiri’s claim and an actual point of real conflict to carry the rest of the season. Not to mention an actual tangible goal for Cassandra to work towards, survival. 

Cassandra’s conflict with Rapunzel not only prevents the resolution to Varian’s arc from being satisfying, but Varian fulfilling his arc in turn winds up cutting off Cass’s story at the knees. 

It didn’t have to be this way. Varian’s and Cassandra’s arcs should have complimented each other, but instead the creator decided to make them complete for screen time and relevance. 

It is such an gratingly stupid and petty decision that winds up being a disservice for all the characters involved.   

Cassandra’s motivation and goal should have been revealed back in season two. Varian should have been the sole focus of Rapunzel’s Return and gotten his big hero moment there along; with an actual ending to his conflict with Rapunzel that didn’t feel so lopsided and half assed. Then Rapunzel and Cassandra could have both been held accountable for their conflict in season three, instead of pretending like their shit smelled of roses the whole damn time. 

Lance Got a Whole Crowd Cheering Him On For Singing a Song, Varian Just Gets One Asshole Giving Him a Single Line of Congratulations

Did I mention this show has an odd anti-Varian bias? Cause it does. For whatever reasons his own creators hate him and that’s just utterly baffling to me. Like why create a main character that you don’t like? 

I look down on professional writers who treat characters they didn’t create poorly within their works, like with James Gunn and Scrappy Doo in the Scooby Doo Movie, Adric in the Doctor Who spin offs, or even the treatment of Doofus in Ducktales 2017. I don't care how much a character is liked or disliked by fandom, that shit is just tasteless and often unfunny. But at least I understand where they are coming from when they do it. 

But I’ll never understand what compels a writer to sabotage their own work; one that they are getting paid to write no less. Especially when said character is super popular with their fans. And Chris knows this. He knows the ratings plummeted without Varian in season two. He knows the merch didn’t sell because there wasn’t enough Varian products. That’s why he hyped up Varian’s return a whole week before Season Three’s airing with a massive online campaign, but he wasn’t smart enough to treat the character decently afterwards? 

I mean congrats, you convinced a just enough viewers to come back to season three to keep the show on the air I guess, but you left them all pissed off and have nothing to show for it to the higher ups a Disney. 

And Chris wonders why he wasn’t asked back to work on new Disney princesses shows that are currently in the works. 

That is Not Quirin. That is a Plank of Wood Pretending to be Quirin.

*Beep* *Boop*...*Dad Bot Is Proud. exe* 

Quirin is such a pale shadow of his season one self that he might as well not exist. I genuinely don't know why the writers released from the amber so early if they weren’t actually going to use him until the season finale. 

For the longest time I honestly thought that Rapunzel sucked out his soul with that decay incantation; what with that lyric about “setting the spirit free”. I genuinely thought that would be a later plot point, but nope, it’s just bad writing

Him just saying hi to son once and smiling blankly isn’t compelling and it’s isn’t fulfilling. It doesn’t actually resolve his arc. I mean he’s at least shown spending time with his son, but that’s not enough. We need to see him acknowledge past, we need to see him acknowledge his own flaws, and we need to see him being more attentive when Varian is in need. .  

Season one Quirin would be trying to stop Varian from going near the red rocks, a post season one Quirin should logically go after his son to make sure he’s alright, even if he’s know longer trying to actively stop Varian like he once did. 

There’s also that damn note and it’s secrets! 

You know what? That’s it. That’s the problem. The focus is all wrong in season three. Episodes get pulled into to many directions trying to juggle too many characters rather than dedicating the needed time to each individual arc. 

Season two’s finale should have been a three parter with Cass’s full motivation and goal laid bare before leaving.

Rapunzel’s Return should have been solely about Rapunzel and Varian’s conflict and resolving that arc fully 

Either Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf or Day of the Animals should have been a Lance episode about him and the girl’s, no Rapunzel. 

And this episode should have been about Quirin and Varian resolving their issues, with the Rapunzel and Cass stuff as the B plot not the stupid talent show 

There, all fixed. You don't even have to cut much, just rework the focus and leave Rapunzel and Cassandra out of conflicts they have no business being in. 

This Does Not Excuse Rapunzel’s Later Negligence Regarding Cassandra

Just because the red rocks was an accident doesn’t mean Cassandra should get a free pass for all the awful things she does later. Rapunzel uses this one interaction to excuse everything else Cassandra does in season three, as if she was just some poor lost baby and not a grown ass woman out to kill them. 

In fact Cass showing hesitancy here actually makes her later actions even worse. This means that she fully acknowledges that what she’s about to do is wrong, but goes ahead and does anyway, even gleefully so at times. Then she has to gall to act baffled when people see her as a threat? 0.o 

When fans say Cass isn’t redeemable or shouldn’t be redeemed, it’s not because he actions are so much worse than everybody else’s (even though they are), It’s because she doesn’t act like she wants to be redeemed half the time. The show doesn’t properly set up her ‘redemption’, instead it just lazily has Rapunzel yell at us how she’s ‘not lost’. 

Like below for instance. 

What Does Cass Need Saving From?

Cassandra is not in danger. She is the danger. 

She made the conscious decision to leave taking a world endangering artifact with her, and she later makes the conscious decision to come back and be an asshole for no adequately defined reason. 

She’s never shown to be in any physical danger from the rocks, the moonstone, or even Zhan Tiri herself. She apparently can take care of herself in the wild for over a year. She also has the capability of getting a job else where and just living out her life if she wanted to. Nothing is forcing her to listen to Zhan Tiri. 

Heck, even her hurt arm, the one thing Rapunzel is responsible for and could potentially be a continued threat to Cass’s well being, is just completely forgotten about.

And no, mental illness and past trauma are not excuses as well. In fact it’s rather insulting to both people with mental heath problems and abusive survivors to suggest otherwise. We don't need ‘saving from ourselves’ and we aren’t automatically dangers to anybody. Nor do we get free passes if we hurt someone. A jerk who happens to have a mental illness is just a jerk who so happens to have a mental illness; coloration is not causation. 

Conclusion 

It’s better than Rapunzel’s Return, but this episode was still a disappointment. A small part of me whishes this was a two parter because it has so much untapped potential, but I know it’s just be wasted in Chris’s hands. 

Anyways, I consider this to be the true mid-season finale of S3. Not only did the hiatus kick in after this episode, but it also clearly divides the season between the first half filler and the later Cass conflict. As such the next entry will be the mid-season recap. See ya, then. 

Ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

Redbubble https://www.redbubble.com/people/RBH129/shop?asc=u

[shadow--writer]

@bon-amie finally did them! Third place winnings from my way back when 100 followers celebration (still waiting on the other two winners haha XD. Lmfao we’re almost at 300 now aslkdjufduc. I am a major dweeb lol). 

Asra x MC angst.

The rundown of the specify of this ask is as the MC grows to be independent Asra leaves for longer trips and the MC thinks it’s their fault since he leaves without warning and without explanation to where he’s going. 

The MC withdrawals into themselves and blames themselves over him. 

THESE GET LONG BTW HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASRA I’M SORRY HUN I HURT YA. And I really hope these are good lol. My room is so hot I’m gettin delirious. Enjoy! 

~~~~

Oh god these are gonna hurt here we GO

My guess he starts leaving for a longer amount of time is because of your independence and he wants you to spread your wings a bit more. 

After bringing you back to life you’ve started acting more like him then you (which is understandable, he’s the one helping you relearn everything of course you’ll draw on his personality and quirks)

He would start to notice how distant you are from him when you wouldn’t greet him when he comes home from his trips 

Which of course, stings a little.

He wouldn’t really notice you blaming yourself and blame himself on this. Thus, leading to more long trips.

Oh oh I have something, hear me out here

The MC and Asra in canon share a bed

What if the MC buys a bed for themself for when Asra is home?

That shit HURTED. He would stare in both anguish and hurt, knowing he kinda caused this but not really how. Blames himself with how...distant you’ve become 

Makes you breakfast still, leaves in the early hours before you wake up so he doesn’t have to see you

He knows he loves you. But he knows that something is off with you 

So he just leaves you alone

Making EVERYTHING WORSE

Conversations get far and few between. Some days you only say one or two words to one another in passing. That’s it. 

Now, you would um let’s see, try to confess why you’re being distant and skittish. Of course Asra is up at attention 

Why did you get a new bed? Why are you so distant? What did he do wrong?

Confessing you feel like you did something wrong will be like a slap to the face for him

Like full on gasping from the pain that caused because he never meant to cause you harm but he did and he can’t take it back and he was making it worse

They’d be dead silent as you talk, their eyes glazing over a bit with how awful they feel

Like their eyes are so dull they look dead. Everything hurts and he swears his heart stopped 

Am I selling that he’s so guilty and hurt that he’s doing this to you? No? Here let’s make it worse

He gave up half of his heart to bring you back for a second chance. 

And he’s losing you 

Of course it wasn’t anything you did wrong, he just doesn’t know how to tread since you came back and he doesn’t want you to be like him but like you again

And boy did that one backfire

Haha if you start crying he’s gonna cry and then neither of you are gonna get anything done since you’re both sobbing like fools

But hey through the blubbers he will dive at you in a hug

There’s two ways this could go

Happy way

He gonna sob at you ngl. Hurting you wasn’t what he intended. He just wanted you to spread your wing again

But he never intended to have you hurt so badly in this way because of him

He gonna hug you a lot I hope you know this

Lawd knows you’re gonna have some serious abandonment issues after this one

He’s gonna be SO TEMPTED to confess to you right here and now but ofc it isn’t the right time

So they’re gonna be your shoulder to cry on and hope you’ll be his

He’s going to apologize so much to you. Like over and over again in the moment and then randomly.

If you offer he sleeps with you again he will scoop you up and brighten like the sun

V snuggly as well

sakjdhfduijk imagine his voice being thick with sleep and hoarse from crying as he apologizes to you softly when you’re trying to fall asleep

He’s gonna warn you where and when he goes when he goes on trips now

Fool me once and all that

Not so happy way

Ha this gonna hurt stick with me now

Him letting you go

Bear with me, he does this in canon but now with knowing he’s the reason you’re hurting this gonna be WORSE

He loves you and wants to support you in any way they can but

When you fall in love with someone else and he watches you go KNOWING he could’ve done something to get you to stay

oooh baby

This bitch can fit so much unrequited love angst in em it ain’t even FUNNY

He knows his actions pushed you away

And that’s what hurts the most

But they’ll be there by your side if you need them

His love is selfish. But he’s not selfish enough to keep you to himself when you knows he hurt you

So he does the most loving thing he can

And let’s you go

[hwrryscherry]

The one with the accidental tiktok part.1 .

characters: HARRYxMODELY/N

blurb: Harry and Model Y/N always record tons of tiktoks together but Y/N never post it. Then on a date night they record a funny tiktok and she accidentaly posts one.

word count: 1.989K

author's note: I received this request and I just wanna say how much I loved it. The concept it's everything so thank you to whoever sent me this and I hope you like it💗💗

here's how the tiktok was like: click here

    You and Harry have this tradition of cooking together every Friday night. It was a moment where it was just you and him and no one else doing something you love to do. It’s a time to connect and spend quality time together as a couple and actually, most of the time those cooking nights ends up on a very spicy night, if you know what I mean.

    This Friday, you both are currently in Palm Springs. You and Harry decided to rent a house in there, so he didn’t have to drive from LA every morning and this would make things easier. The house itself had a really calming Californian desert vibe, it was really colorful and had a yellow front door that you loved the most. It even made you tell Harry you wanted to dye your front door in LA yellow because it just made the whole place feels happier.

   It was already 7:30 pm now and you were sitting on the living room sofa in your gray sweatpants, turtleneck blouse and your damp hair being just showered. Your day was full, you took some photos for Cosmopolitan magazine so there were people putting a lot of makeup on you and touching your hair all day long and honestly, after all these quarantine months you weren’t pretty used to it. Messy hair, no makeup and sweatpants were your daily routine now. So at that moment, an eye mask, comfortable socks, sweatpants and spending time with your favorite man in the world were all you wanted. 

   You continue to go through the Instagram feed when you hear the sound of keys and then the front door opens. Your eyes met the apparently tired figure of Harry entering through it, you didn't judge him. This man was waking up every day at 5 in the morning and came home around this time, but you knew it was for something good and that he was actually having a great time on set. Your dog, Charlie immediately ran up to Harry, barking a little and basically jumping at the man's feet. Harry smiled tenderly and crouched down to pet the little dog, while you closed your laptop and stood up walking towards your tired boyfriend. He stood up when you approached him trying to smile at you, but you could see in his beautiful green eyes that he was really tired. You smiled at the boy, placing your left hand on his shoulder, approaching to give a peck on his lips and then you ran your hand through his hair, making him sigh with satisfaction at the feeling he loved.

— Hi! — You spoke in a cheerful tone but not so much, it was calm, but he could feel in your voice that you were trying to cheer him up — How was it today? You look tired, my darling. 

   He then sighed as he put his keys and cellphone on the small table by the door. 

— I am!  I had so many scenes today, and to make matters worse, I had to redo the same scene about four times! —  Harry said, sounding frustrated

— Oh, I'm sorry! — You said, propping up the on wall right behind you and crossing your arms trying to think of some way to make his day better. —

Why don't you take a shower, use the bath bubbles and relax? And I’ll order something for us to eat, anything you want. What do you think? Pizza, Chinese food? Anything you want. 

— But today is Friday, we always cook together on Fridays! —  Harry argued, frowning at your suggestion. And you actually did, it was probably one of the few things you both did by the beggining of your relationship that became a tradition to you.

— But you're tired, and it can be cool too either way! — You said, placing your hands on his shoulders starting to massage them calmly, then giving a small kiss on the back of Harry’s neck.

— No, no! It’s alright! — Harry said, shrugging you off and starting to walk straight to the bedroom while you followed him thinking what the hell did he wanted to say with that. It’s the confusion for me. He walked into the master suite bathroom starting to take off his shirt. You were surprised by the lack of tattoos, of course you knew they were covering it up for the film but it was really hard to get used to it, when you were so used to seeing his tattoos for almost three years now — I’ll take a relaxing bath and then I’ll be ready so we can cook together and bing watch a show or a movie, okay? — Harry said entering the shower. You really didn’t matter to skip one cooking night, but it was important to Harry, he loved those nights as much as you did and he didn’t want to make you lose a cooking date because of his tiredness. You just agreed with him even though you were not doing it.

   So, you just went back to the living room where you took your cell phone on the couch and ordered Chinese food, since you both loved it. It didn't take long for Harry to come out of the bathroom in his sweatpants and damp hair. You sure loved Harry anyway, but when he was like that, with the damp hair of someone who just got out of the bath he literally looked like a Greek god. He sat beside her on the couch, lifting his legs and placing them over his lap. Harry propped his head on the back of the couch watching you place your cell phone on the coffee table. 

— Have you decided on today's recipe? —  He asked, stroking his calf.

—  No, I ordered food! — You answered calmly watching the boy's facial expressions change.

— What? Because? I said we could cook! — Harry said settling himself on the sofa so he could face her better.

— You said, but we can't! — You replied approaching your face to him, putting your arms over your shoulders — But it will be cool too. We can eat, watch some movies, some tiktoks, I can even massage you since you have the worst back in the world! — Harry chuckled at hearing his words, not that you could say anything about bad backs, but he will just let it go for the moment.

   Harry leaned in kissing your lips as his right hand was now in your cheek. Deep down, he knew this was exactly the best thing for today. The kiss started to get steamy. It was slow but passionate, Harry slid his hand that was previously on your cheek down your body until it reached your waist where he lifted you and placed you on his clothed lap.

   You brought your right hand to the boy's neck and pulled his hair lightly causing Harry to groan as he squeezed your waist. He slid one of his hands down the sides of your body and brought it back to your cheek where he started to kiss your neck making you roll your eyes. It wasn’t anything higly sexual, it was more about the intimacy, the initmacy of being so closed to his lover.

   And then the doorbell rang alerting that his order had arrived causing you to llet out a frustrated sigh as you separated the kiss looking at the smirk on your boyfriend's lips.

— Chinese food... — You said withdrawing from his lap and getting up starting to walk to the door.

— I said it would be better to have cooked! — Harry said ironically running his hands over his thighs covered in sweatpants.

    You had already paid by credit card over the phone so thank god it was just getting the food. You returned to the living room in a few seconds, placing the packages on the coffee table and sitting on the carpet. Harry then slid from the couch to the carpet on the floor and sat beside you.

— Should we film a tik tok? — You said, opening the bags getting your orders out of it. You ordered Chicken Yakisoba for you and shrimp yakisoba to Harry as he’s a pescatarian — Like, while we eat! We’re never gonna post it, so whatever!

— Sure! — Harry said, handing you your phone and grabbing his order — Oh, which one should we do? Like, the couple challenge, or should we like lip sing to one? — Harry asked.

— Oh, OH! I saw a heard an audio today — You started laughing just about remembering it. Harry thought it was so adorable when you’d do it, so whenever you were trying to tell a story and started laughing because you remember it perfectly and it was so funny to you, he’d just stay there with a cheeky smile admiring your face and laugh — Alright, so it’s like a song and then the girl it’s singing like ‘’my man ain’t shit’’, ‘’my man ain’t shit’’.

— Excuse me?? Why would we do it? I’m like the coolest person! — Harry interrupted you making you look at him with a mocking look.

— ANYWAY, wait for it! — You put a few strands of your hair behind your ear while taking the spring roll with a napkin — Then the girl says like ‘’why you won’t leave him?’’ and she answers ‘’’cause bitch, dick too bomb’’. — You couldn’t help laughing at it, because it was just so funny to you. Harry laughed too, he loved that you could find the funny side in the silliest things, but could also be so mature when it was needed.

— Ok, I like how it turned out, let’s do it! — Harry said taking a bite of his food as making you chuckle. It was true though, this man’s dick? too bomb.

   You then entered the tik tok app and prepared everything and positioned the phone in front of you both.

— Wait, what should I do? — Harry asked as he stand up behind you.

— Nothing, just copy the obscene gesture that I’ll do in the end and you’ll be fine. — You said with a mocking smile at him.

— Why? I wanted to lip sing too! — Harry said, looking at the camera, pouting like a child.

— Because I don’t have a dick, so it would be weird if you sang! — You argued, turning your head to face him.

— Oh, is there any audios about boobs? Because love, yours are spectacular — He said widening his eyes, making you laugh and turn again to face the camera now.

— Ok, focus Harry, focus! — You said as you press the button to film and started lip singing. When the time ended, you both sat down to watch it and it actually turned out really funny, and Harry doing the gesture was totally the best part of it. 

    When you were about to save it privately on the app, Harry accidentally spilled the soy sauce on the carpet. Yes, the white carpet in your rented house. You clicked on any button to save the video and ran to get a floor cloth or anything that could remove that stain. In fact, you knew I wasn't going to leave, the act of trying to clean up was a spur of the moment. Well, you couldn’t clean it and a few minutes later your cell phones started to vibrate a lot due to notifications and when you clicked to see what it was they saw that in the moment of despair, you didn’t press the button that would save the video privately, but yes to post publicly. The video was basically all over the social network and even if you delete it now, you very much doubt that the whole world hasn't seen it yet.

[nekasu]

SnapCube’s Until Dawn Real-Time Fandub Sentence Starters (Part 1)

"I didn't bring my phone. It was in my other pants!" "This is a really long high five." "...I won't tell anyone about this." "Ya see, that's a joke thinger." "Can you see me? Don't answer that." "Who talks to screens? Maybe you can." "We're here in a strange time at a strange place." "Hopefully you enjoyed whatever the hell THIS video was." "When those girls died? That was funny." "My phone still has battery? Holy shit, I gotta keep that warm." "I'm trying to get like 100% on Animal Crossing." "Check it out, I have this gun. It's really really cool." "Are you McCree from Overwatch, hit video game?" "Make sure you don't shoot any guys with that." "Never mind, I do have the key. I just found it in my pocket." "We're all just really good beans at the end of the day." "Why did you hit me? That hurt so much!" "Sorry, I've been in jail a while." "My arm really hurts. Do you have any first aid?" "I just got off the big train in the sky." "This is my Smash invitation and frankly, I deserve it." "It was gonna be a surprise for your birthday, motherfucker!" "Jesus, everyone is so rude. What is this, Rude Mountain?" "This mountain fucking sucks." "I'm here to be rude to people." "I think this is sus. He's definitely the impostor." "As a gamer, I know all about Among Us." "Is this...Tamriel?" "Well, that's a cliff." "No, you got arms!" "I don't speak corn." "Grab my stinky hand!" "I will live on in the vibes!" "No, that's too fast! Oh, god!" "2x4? You're not even a 1x1." "You look so stupid right now." "Hehe, I'm under the bed now!" "It was for a prank video. Come on!" "It's fine, honestly. She has a blanket." "Women never listen to me when I talk..." "Everything's a big deal when you make it." "Oh my god she has pants! What the fuck?!" "No one told me I was wearing pants today!" "It's pretty cold because it's DEAD of winter!" "Hey, tree! Look at me, I'm looming right now!" "Not a blanket, but maybe I can keep you warm." "This fuckin' candle doesn't keep me warm at all.” "At least you're not calling it 'arm pants' this time." "Oh, wow! SHE'S looming! Oh, she can teach me!" "I don't want to play any of your Among Us games." "I have this weird feeling someone's looming around here." "Answer a question for me: how are you feeling today? YEAH!" "Well now, wise guy. Let's see who among us really is the funniest." "Helloooo there! I am Doctor Rabbit. The world's only rabbit rabbit." "Whoa, that guy was straight up looming! I wish I could loom like that.” "Was that that Anus Unnus guy?" "Hey, babe, you wanna go and record a blog with me?" "So are my pranks as good as Markiplier?" "Wait, when did they get the hugging perk?!" "See, that's what I think of your problems, is that they're just some sort of joke." "Got in real trouble with the locals, I did. They don't let me back there." "Maybe you're just trying to be woke or something." "Your insurance isn't covering these sessions, by the way." "We can send, like, aura to each other. You know like, uh, vibes." "I don't guess, I know. I never guess, I know everything. I do the math." "Two plus two equals you're my friend. Just kidding, it's four." "I just hurt all of my bones." "High five? No, you're too far away. My bad." "Did you solve my wolverine puzzle?" "Did you know doors hurt?" "Everyone has a raccoon!" "Why don't you keep it to yourself, tough guy?" "Save the fight until I have the camera ready, okay?" "That's not a view, that's a snow." "I think you're in the corridor of the monkey." "If you throw that me, I'm gonna fuckin' flip my goddamn lid." "You want some snow, bitch?!" "Lady? Girl? ...I should really learn her name." "Water's looking a little green, that's just the way I like it." "Did the ghosts take my friends again?" "I'm actually half ghost." "Is that a lightsaber? Like from Star Trek?" "I'm gonna level with you, I hate being in the same room as you." "BOOOOOOOOOOOK!" "You like the new office? I fuckin' don't." "You didn't read through the contract, did you kiddo?" "I can get fucked? Finally!" "Even the ghost agrees." "I should have fucking known. This ghost is such a libro." "That's great and all, but I'm gonna look like a jackass!" "This is what happens when you pull mean pranks. God punishes an elk." "THAT was a HEALING spell?! Oh god!" "Door key? You're pretty dorky!" "I can imagine a lot of dipshits, in fact." "Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked!" "I'm casting a hex on you now. Have fun getting hexed, idiot." "See? The Kinect causes psychic powers." "I can't believe Blue's freakin' clue is on here." "Ugh...I freaking hate doors." "Blue save me..." "Telling them the vibes made you do it won't hold up in a court of law." "Oh, would you look at the time. It's time for me to rip you a new one again!" "I cannot wait, but I suppose I'll have to." "The hex worked great. Now let's see if I can go shoot what remains of her." "I love running through the forest like a fucking weirdo." "You look like an idiot on the ground there." "If I have anything to say about it, you won't make it back." "I wanna see you, whatever you are, you funny-looking fellow." "Why do I have so much trouble with doors?" "Hey, funny voice! Fuck off, please!" "It's a saw trap, you dumb piece of shit!"

"Seems mysterious, but I won't shoot him this time. Gotta weaken him with the hex." "You're gonna get fucked if you can't say goodbye to a ghost. Trust me on that one." "Hey, uh, do you wanna stop having trouble with doors, now'd be a phantasmical time!" "Unless you want to work with me here, well...we're gonna be stuck here until dawn." "Not like you've ever done anything on purpose in your entire life, you fucking hack." "What, not even a goddamn laugh? Oh, it's gonna be a rough fuckin' couple weeks." "I can't believe I made it up to Rude Mountain only to be discovered by rude people." "I've got all my gamerscore on my phone, so I'm hoping that nobody really touched it.” "That's pretty cringe of you, buddy. I'm gonna put you in my Cringe Tuesday compilation." "If I wanted to talk about beans, I'd hang around with the fuckin' Among Us crew down there." "You know what? I have two arms, so I guess I CAN carry both of them at the same time." "I just got my lips unstuck. Aw, geez. I've been trying to talk to you guys this whole time."  "I left some beans in my backpack. They might be a few years old, but they don't really expire." "I should've known that coming to Rude Mountain would have made you worse as a person." "I've just been playing a lot of Among Us recently and I've just been trying to really get good at lying. "Oh, so NOW you're a funny guy, huh? You think you got your own jokes?! Ya think this is stand up?!" "I have blankets in the back, but I'm gonna go to the front just to see if I can spice things up a little." "I'm here to help you, and whaddya do? You spit in my goddamn face! ...Metaphorically, of course.” "What do you take me for, some kind of clown?! Some kind of Boo Boo the Fool that ain't done this rodeo before?!" "Here at therapy we're here to answer the one big burning question everyone's got: what the FUCK is wrong with you?" "I noticed you don't have much of a sense of humor. That might explain all the shit you've gotten into recently, wouldn't it?" "Well with my ten step plan I'll be happy to go plumb the depths of your sad, scared little mind and see what makes you...tick, as it were."

[hellimagines]

Indebted to You -- Barry OBX

Masterlist

Summary: As JJ Maybank’s older sister it’s always been your top priority to protect your little brother. Even if that means easing your father’s temper by indebting yourself to Outerbanks’ top dealer.

Warnings: child abuse, frequent dr*g mention and dr*g dealing (of the non-oui’d variety), paying off someone else’s debt non-conventionally

Pairing: Barry x fem!Maybank!reader

Word Count: 2.4K

DISCLAIMER: Please, for the love of fuck, DO NOT do hard dr*gs just because you think they’re ‘cool’ or because you think dating a dealer is ‘cool’. Believe me when I tell you that neither of those things are cool, and that is NOT what I am trying to get across with this story; I don’t condone hard dr*g use.

A/N: This is something I pulled out of my ass because I wanted to write for Barry really bad, but I didn’t have any ideas. It has potential but I’m not sure if it’s gonna go anywhere. Also, Barry may be a little OOC since we don’t get much from his character. Anyway, I hope you guys like this and let me know what you think!

You released a slow, aggravated huff while staring down at your drunken father. He sat hunched over on the couch, with his elbows digging into his knees and his gaze trained on the coffee table before him. Behind you, your younger brother was curled into an armchair with a frozen bag of expired peas pressed against his left eye and a bloody tissue under his nose. You yourself had a welt already throbbing and beginning to swell on your cheekbone, but you ignored it in favor of kicking your dad’s limp foot. His head shot up, neck cracking with the unexpected speed, and narrowed his eyes at you dangerously.

“You had some nerve steppin’ in on something that wasn’t your business. What’ve I told you ‘bout stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong?” he snarled while attempting to stand, but was pathetically unsuccessful due to his inebriated state. All he managed to do was stumble and fall back down on the couch with a grunt. 

You rolled your eyes, “And what’ve I told you about mixing your whiskey and blow? I already have your grave dug outback, and the sooner you keep this shit going, the sooner I get to toss your ass inside it.” Luke scoffed at your words but didn’t offer a rebuttal as he flexed his bloody knuckles. “JJ didn’t touch the fucking money-- I’ve been keeping ahold of it so nothing goes missing before I head to Barry’s. You’d remember that if you weren’t fucking high or drunk all the time. JJ’s got his own job and is making his own money, he doesn’t need to jack your rolled bills for anything.” 

You pulled out a wad of recently-flattened bills, shaking the cash in front of your dad’s face. It was roughly $600 that you had made the past weekend while bouncing from Kook party to Kook party. Luke’s eyes widened at the sight of the money and he instinctively reached out to grab it from you. Your arm jerked back and you clutched the wad tightly before shoving it back into the pocket of your leather jacket. 

With a shake of your head, you looked over your shoulder and gave your brother a once over, nodding to yourself after assessing he wouldn’t be dropping dead anytime soon. “Why don’t you go to JB’s? I’ve got shit handled here and I heard the waves were supposed to be good before the sun sets.” 

“You sure? I can go with you-”

“Over my dead body. I got involved in this so you didn’t have to. Scram, before I change my mind and make you clean the kitchen.” JJ frowned but did as he was told, depositing the peas back in the freezer before making his way out the front door. You turned back to your dad, who was now laying on the couch with an arm thrown over his face. “I don’t have many more runs to do before we’re out of this shit-eating debt you caused with Barry. Keep your paws off the cash and we won’t have any problems, okay? You can’t fuck this up before I manage to fix it. Please, dad,” you whispered pleadingly and lowered yourself to the edge of the coffee table. 

Your dad peeked open an eye at you before laughing darkly. “You’re running the game, princess. The streets know you, but even worse, those rich Kooks know you and know what you have to offer. That won’t be forgotten, especially with how good you’ve been running that shit. You’re not gonna be getting out anytime soon, so what’s it matter if a couple twenties go missin’ or a gram gets cut on our table? Don’t piss Barry off and don’t get caught by the cops, and you’ll be set for life.” 

“No, I’m not like you,” you growled as your lip curled into a sneer. “I don’t wanna keep dealing and end up bitter and angry and alone, like you. Once I’m finished working off your debt, I’m done.” 

Luke shot up from the couch in the blink of an eye, towering over you while gripping your jaw tightly. You could feel his fingers painfully digging into your skin, pressing against your teeth, and making you wince. “Doesn’t matter what you fucking want. This isn’t your world, princess. Once people know who’s moving product in the streets, you’re stuck. So you may as well embrace the Maybank name and take what you can while you can. Now, be a good girl and go make daddy proud,” he hissed in your ear, before roughly letting go of your jaw by flinging your head to the side. You teetered off the edge of the table and fell to your side on the floor, but Luke didn’t spare you a second glance as he stepped over you and stumbled to his room. 

After pushing yourself to your feet and massaging your sore jaw, you shot a glare toward the direction of your father’s room. “Fuck you,” you spat quietly before leaving the house and slamming the door shut behind you.

By the time you made it to Barry’s trailer, the sun had set and the small grassy area Barry called his ‘backyard’ was lit up with lights, noises, and people. You made your way around the trailer, nodding to a few people you recognized before you found Barry lounging in a lawn chair with a beer in his hand. His smile was wide and dirty as he laughed with the people surrounding him, seemingly at ease with everyone. When he noticed you walking toward him out of the corner of his eye, his smile brightened and he shouted out for you.

“Ay, look who it is!” he yelled, waving an arm out toward you while the others cheered at your arrival. “I was just thinkin’ about you, sweetheart. C’mon, sit down with me. I left a chair open just for you,” Barry smiled, gesturing to the black lawn chair beside him with a Mikes waiting in the arm pocket. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but to snicker softly at him and take the offered chair. 

“What made you so certain I’d show up tonight?” you hummed teasingly while opening the spiked limeade that had been waiting for you. 

Barry grinned over the lid of his beer, his brown eyes watching you intently as you drank from your bottle. “Because I know you, sweetheart. Sunday nights are your drop-off nights.” Your cheeks warmed at his comment, but you played it off with a scoff and shake of your head. “I wanted to make sure you were more comfortable tonight, so I kept that chair open for ya and grabbed your favorite while on a liquor run.” 

A harsh scoff came from a chair on the other side of Barry, and you peeked around him to see who it came from. “Special privilege for his new fucktoy, what a surprise,” the voice muttered, and you recognized it as one of Barry’s frequent buyers, Sherry. You’d never had a conversation with the girl despite having gone to school with her in the past, and even though she was always at Barry’s get-togethers, she typically seemed more focused on her next fix rather than talking with anyone.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Barry snapped, turning to look at her with a clenched jaw. He seemed to purposefully be blocking her view of you, and you remained silent as the altercation unfolded.

“You know what it means,” she snapped back. “Whenever a new piece of trash starts selling for you, you put your dick in her and use her until another one shows up. But, you never bought them their favorite bitch-drink or saved them a seat, so what makes this one so much better, huh? Why does she get to sit in the big, nice chair next to you, but the rest of us have to have three-legged chairs and warm beers? What about her cunt makes her so much better?” Marie shouted, causing a couple of the others to whistle in disbelief. 

Before Barry could respond, one of the boys in the circle spoke up. “Maybe it’s cause she’s not a psychotic bitch who snorts the blow instead of selling it.”  You could hear Marie’s angry gasp at the diss, and when Barry gave her a pointed look rather than defending her, she flipped off the group before storming away. 

“Remind me why we let Sherry stick around all the time?” Someone questioned as you idly picked at the label on your bottle.

“Because this ain’t a fuckin’ gated community,” Barry scoffed as though it was obvious. The other chuckled in agreement before the conversation picked up and everyone went back to their own thing. You cleared your throat awkwardly once the attention was off of you, not knowing how to respond-- or if you were even supposed to. Barry gave a deep sigh, “Sorry about that, sweetheart. Don’t listen to anything she said, Sherry just hasn’t been doing great since she lost custody of her son. You’re not a fucktoy and I ain’t got no intention of using you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’s going through shit and I get it. I shouldn’t stay long anyway, Luke’s fucked off his ass and if I’m gone much longer he’ll flip,” you shrugged, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the cash as you spoke. “I made about $600 this weekend, and I know it’s not as much as it usually is, but someone had already hit up the beach and two of my usual places by the time I was able to start selling. So, I was stuck at Rafe’s party all of last night and only a handful of small pickups on Friday night.” You handed the wad over to Barry with an apologetic wince. “I still have some blow left over, so I’ll try and push a few eight-balls before the weekend. I’m sorry it’s not more.” Barry flicked through the cash quietly as you explained everything to him, before folding it into his pocket once it was all counted. He finished off his beer while looking you over, causing the nervous feeling in your stomach to grow. 

“Sweetheart,” he began with a shockingly gentle sigh, “You ain’t gotta apologize for any of that shit. You’re cleaning up your daddy’s debt because he’s too useless to do it himself, yet you’re not bitter or angry at everyone because of it. I’ve heard of the way you stick by new users throughout the night, making sure they’re using safely and doing okay. You still go to your day job and take care of your brother and his shithead-friends despite being up past dawn most days. You’re doing great, and I don’t ever wanna hear you apologize for thinking you’re not doing enough.” 

Your cheeks flamed and your eyes widened in shock as you spluttered helplessly at the man in front of you. “I wasn’t implying that I wasn’t doing enough! I just know how much my dad owes you, and $600 weekends are gonna take too long to pay it off.”

Barry raised an eyebrow at you before grabbing onto the arm of your chair and tugging you closer to him. You yelped at the sudden movement, bracing yourself for the inevitable collapse of you and your chair. Barry laughed loudly at you when you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the chair tightly, but there was no mirth or mock behind his laugh. Once the chair stopped moving and his laugh slowed to a chuckle, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Relax,” he chuckled, reaching out to move a strand of hair out of your face. “I wasn’t gonna let you fall, just wanted to talk to you better.”

“You could’ve just asked me to move closer,” you grumbled, casting your eyes to the side as your cheeks flushed. “And I told you I can’t stay long to chat.”

Barry gave you a nonchalant shrug, “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, if your daddy’s got an issue with you keeping me company, I’ll just go and have a talk with him. I don’t want you worrying about him when you’ve got enough going on. Stay for a bit, sweetheart. I’ve got a whole cooler full of those Mikes, and you’re the only one I’m allowin’ to drink ‘em. If you really wanna go, I won’t stop you, but I want you to know that I don’t mind you stickin’ around me for a while.”

You bit your lip as you considered Barry’s offer, quietly looking out at the happy party-goers. It was calmer than any Kook party or Boneyard Blowout you had attended, and you had to admit that you loved the calm and welcoming atmosphere. Barry’s warm hand settled over your propped up knee, bringing your attention back to his hopeful eyes. 

“Okay, fine,” you caved and Barry squeezed your knee in delight. “But, you have to go get me a drink. Sherry was right, this chair is comfortable as fuck and I don’t wanna get up.” 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Barry teased and patted your knee before leaving to grab your drink. You stared after him with a bashful smile, unable to help yourself as the nervous feeling in your stomach evolved into flustered butterflies.

‘Shit,’ you groaned to yourself, ‘I’ve got a schoolgirl crush on this motherfucker. I’m so screwed.’

[mymoonagedaydream]

Stranger’s Kiss

Summary: Heartbroken and lost, the neon city streets seemed to guide you to exactly where you needed to be.

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language, smut references

Author's Note: Cheeky little oneshot, hope y’all enjoy. It’s based around lyrics from Stranger’s Kiss by Alex Cameron.

---

Don't even bother climbing out of the well That ain't no way to get out of the hell that you're in

Four years.

You’d given him four years of your life, for what?

For you to walk into your bedroom and find him balls deep in some tramp from his office.

You left without a word, but it felt like something of yours had stayed there, with them. Like they’d chipped away a piece of you and left it lying there on the carpet.

As you walked aimlessly for hours, the city started to feel like it was dying around you. 

The night was made of flickering street lights, sirens, broken glass and junkies. You thought about leaving, starting somewhere fresh, but what was the point? You'd have to take your baggage with you wherever you went.

Keeping your head down and your pace swift, you half-listened to the faded whispers of people passing you in the street, but even those were eventually drowned out by the pattering of rain against the sidewalk. 

Turning into one of the city’s many dreary backstreets, you saw a solitary neon sign bathing the uneven concrete and murky puddles in a jarring red light. 

The only place that was open this late, Stark’s Bar.

It was the end of the earth, the rock under which all the sad and lonely insects of the city crawled. You’d never been inside, never before sunk low enough to warrant a visit, but tonight it seemed to be calling your name.

As soon as you tugged the door open, the heavy scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke hit you like a wall, knocking you backwards. But inside was warm, dry and quiet. 

That’s all you wanted.

Keeping your eyes fixed on the sticky, creaking floor, you trudged towards the bar, taking the first free stool you found. A broad torso planted itself opposite you, blocking out the dim light that streamed from underneath the crooked lampshades.

‘Double scotch.’

‘You sure you’re in the right place?’

The torso’s low voice came from above your head, but you didn’t bother glancing up. You didn’t have the energy or the inclination for conversation right now.

‘Double scotch.’

The dim light returned, only interrupted again when a tumbler flecked with hard water stains and half-full of liquor was dropped in front of you.

You stared at that glass for what felt like hours, just thinking.

There was no way you could go home tonight. You’d struggle to ever set foot in that apartment again, the whole place was scattered with painful reminders of everything you’d lost. Maybe you should call your mom, ask her to pick a few things up for you.

Tomorrow.

Tonight, just find a motel and sob yourself to sleep. 

---

I know you're wondering why you wish you were dead And there's no solace in the fact that it's all in your head

That flickering red light just kept leading you back to where you knew you belonged.

You dropped yourself on the same barstool and waited for the torso to plant itself in front of you again, ordering the same drink as you had for the past however many nights you’d been here. They all seemed to blur into one.

Something different happened this time, though.

The shadow didn’t shift. You waited, eyes fixed downwards, but the dim yellow light didn’t return.

‘Are you alright?’

This was only the second time you’d heard the torso speak, but the voice was much firmer than last time.

‘Fine.’

‘So you’re depressed and a liar? Not a great combination.’

Your eyes shot up, widening a little as you took in the monolith of a man in front of you. His dark, stained t-shirt was stretched over his thick shoulders, bright pink lips trained into a slight smirk as he kept his gaze fixed on you.

‘Excuse me?’

He placed his hands flat on the counter either side of you, bracing himself against the bar and bringing his face down to level with yours. ‘You been in here four nights in a row. Ordered a double scotch without even looking at me, sat for a couple hours staring at it and then left without a word. You’re telling me you’re fine? Whatever.’

'Maybe it's none of your goddamn business, asshole.'

'So drink at home.’

You watched him back away, his sharp blue eyes only breaking from yours when he eventually turned around.

He was right, you definitely weren’t fine, but you figured the only thing sadder than drinking in this place was picking up a ten dollar bottle of whiskey from a liquor store and drinking it alone in your motel room.

Besides, it made you feel a little better knowing that you probably weren’t the most tragic loser in the place.

---

Don't bother flying when we jump off the cliff Make sure it's head first if you don't want to deal with what ifs

When you arrived the next night, a double scotch was waiting on the bar above your usual stool.

You flicked your eyes up to the bartender, who gave you a nod and a knowing smile as you climbed onto your seat, your gaze slowly wandering down the length of his arms. The way they tensed and shifted as he slowly polished a glass was almost mesmerising.

It was only a minute or so before he approached.

‘Still fine?’

Maybe it was the crippling loneliness, the bottle of wine you’d had earlier in your motel room or just the fact that he was the only human being who’d smiled at you all week, but the idea of opening up and spilling all to this perfect stranger really wasn’t as unappealing as it should’ve been.

‘Been better.’

‘No shit.’ He reached a bottle of scotch from under the counter and topped up your drink, knowing full well you hadn’t so much as touched it yet. ‘I always thought we should rename this place Rock Bottom.’

A faint laugh escaped your lips. ‘Funnily enough, that doesn’t make me feel much better.’

‘Maybe not.’ He edged your drink a little closer to you. ‘But this will.’

The golden liquid rippled around the glass as you plucked it from the bar, squeezing your eyes shut and necking it down in one.

His smile widened into an astonished grin, making your face begin to heat up and your chest tighten slightly.

‘Bucky.’  

‘Y/n.’ You felt the corners of your mouth curl up slightly, a movement they’d almost forgotten.

‘Nice smile, y/n.’

Your gaze stayed on him as he went back to work, serving all the other hopeless nonentities propping themselves up on the bar. It only wavered when you felt your phone vibrate against your thigh.

It was him, your ex, asking if you could talk. He wanted to work things out.

Five days since it’d happened and this was the first time he’d tried to get in touch.

This fucking asshole had banged some random bitch in your bed, made you to live out of a duffle bag in a sleazy motel for almost a week and then expected you to come crawling back as soon as he whistled?

Fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing. 

He knew you’d be low and vulnerable. He knew you’d be tempted. He knew that, even now, you were still wrapped around his little finger.

And it hurts, and it hurts But I don't wanna talk about it

A rogue tear escaped from the corner of your eye, rolling halfway down your cheek before being quickly and firmly wiped away, its brief presence going unnoticed by most of the other figures scattered around the bar.

Most, not all. 

‘Hey, you see that dude over there?’

Bucky folded his arms on top of the bar so he was eye level with you, gesturing his head slightly towards a white-haired man in a three piece suit, sitting alone at a table in the corner behind two empty martini glasses.

You had no idea where this was going, but you were pretty glad for the distraction. ‘Mhmm.’

‘Used to be a millionaire. Invested all his money in CDs in ‘98 and lost it all when Steve Jobs invented the iPod. He was married to Claudia Schiffer for a couple months but she left him when he couldn’t afford to pay for her nose job.’

A single, full-throated guffaw escaped your lips, making you clamp your hand over your mouth before slowly lowering it and muttering. ‘That is absolute bullshit.’

‘You got me.’ He leaned in a little. ‘Fun though, right? You try.’

You bit your lip slightly, gazing at him for a few seconds before reluctantly nodding and beginning to scan the room. This place was so full of eccentrics and weirdos, it was difficult to choose just one.

'Alright. Woman over there.’

Bucky twisted slightly to look at a very broad, stern-looking woman sitting at the bar, wisps of dyed red hair clinging to the moisture on her forehead. ‘Go on.’

‘She used to work security for Bryan Adams. The two of them were best friends, but he fired her after she got hammered and told him that she was in love with him. She can’t listen to Summer of ‘69 without sobbing, he broke her heart.’

His eyes darted back to you. ‘And how did she feel about that?’

Your gaze was fixed on your subject but it felt more like you were looking straight through her, your mind wandering somewhere else entirely, words falling into your mouth spilling out involuntarily.

‘Like someone shoved their hand into her chest, grabbed a handful of anything they could feel and just ripped it out. Like all the sensations in her body had been permanently replaced with waves of fear and dread that got better and worse at seemingly random intervals. Like the last four years of her life meant nothing to-’

You stopped suddenly, eyes shooting back towards him as you realised what you'd said. He stood up straight, triumphantly folding his arms across his broad chest, smirking down at you.

‘Bingo.’

'Oh what do you think you are, a fucking shrink?'

'In this job, gotta be.'

'Cause in my dreams, I miss you Then I wake up to reality's bliss

For the first time, you decided to hang around at the bar until it closed. You weren’t sure why, you had no idea what you were hoping would happen, but every minute that passed made your motel room seem less and less appealing.

Bucky called last orders, and minutes later the few remaining dispossessed wandered out into the red-bathed side street.

You hoisted yourself onto your feet, turning to leave but stopping dead when a full bottle of whiskey was firmly planted on the bar in front of you, a very smug-looking barman smirking at you from behind it.

The two of you sequestered yourselves to a snug, dimly lit corner and began sharing the liquor straight from the bottle.

As you stared blankly out the front window, you could feel his eyes roaming over you, a sensation you were enjoying far more than you were letting on. Being this close, you could pick up his faint scent of old spice and cigarettes, you could hear his deep, slow breathing and feel his muscular thigh pressed up against yours.

‘He messed you up pretty good, huh?’ You nodded faintly, keeping your gaze fixed forward. ‘Wanna talk about it?’

‘Nothing to say, really. After four years I caught him fucking someone else. It is what it is.’

He scoffed, taking a long swig before holding the bottle out to you. ‘What a fucking asshole.’

‘Mhmm.’

‘If it helps, my last girlfriend stole my TV to buy weed.’

You almost choked on a mouthful of liquor, just about managing to swallow it as you choked back fits of laughter. ‘That does help, actually.’

‘Thought it might.’ He reached over and gently pried the bottle from your hand, placing it on the table and shifting himself to face you. ‘Seems like we’re both shit outta luck.’

‘You’re not wrong there.’

As you slowly turned towards him, the wild look in his eyes made the hard thumping in your chest quicken, your lungs tightening slightly as you rapidly pulled in shallow breaths. You to adjusted yourself as his arm slid over the back of your seat.

Letting your eyelids flutter closed, you focused on the gentle stroking of his fingertips over your shoulder, the feeling of his warm breath brushing over your lips as he leant towards you, the soft pressure of the side of his nose against yours and the muffled bump as your foreheads connected. 

Everything else melted from your mind, all the stress and misery of the last few days briefly disappearing in the distance as you just let yourself live in this moment. 

His hand moved up to cradle the side of your face, drawing it towards his and finally closing the gap between you.

Now all I ever wanted and all I ever needed is right here In the stranger's kiss.

---

Permanent Taglist: @nnuree @tcc-gizmachine @emmabarnes @somewhatasoftbaddie @juenenfeu @ddowii @rebekahdawkins @x0xchristine @maevemarethyu @thechaoticargonaut @yayrainday @linkpk88 @mcolbz14 @indigo123789 @verygraphicink (Italicised names are untaggable)

---

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR

I’m baaaaack bitches 😘 let’s be honest the last two episodes were shit & you wouldn’t have wanted that wwr anyways. SO let’s get into the ✨angst✨ that was Nick’s episode under the cut…

Oh but before I start, why yes, yes I called this theory too. Me and this writer share a goddamn brain or something because I’ve literally always guessed big plot points of his episodes correctly 😅

Ok Nick’s dad leaving like that, with poor bby Nick all sweet asking if he promises to bring him back his favorite pastry and him hesitating before he’s going to promise- NO. 

*picture Michael Scott gif here*

It’s not faaaaaair, little Nick deserved so much better- so MUCH better. And it’s only going to get worse as the episode goes on, so strap in for the walk down emo lane. 

Quick pit stop for cute banter because duh. Nick giving the real estate agent Ellie’s number cracks me up because bro you want this house with her don’t you 👀 you still keep her business cards on you when you could have just as easily gotten your own (or McGee’s) by this point 👀 you just want to maaaaarry her and move iiiiiiin with her I knooooooow it 👀 Ellie’s reaction the split second we see also has me dying because she’s like ha ha this is funny you had to talk to real estate agent you drew the short straw hey wait what the fu— you did not! Before McGee interrupts any protest she can hurl back Nick’s way and that’s just gold right there. Pure middle school flirting as per usual for them and I love it.

Oooooooh Kasie’s lab scene. The growth in this one. Nick worried his family and by extension him, is going to get implicated for murder (or is guilty) even though it sounds outrageous to him, he’s got PTSD from Mona Lisa (and who wouldn’t tbh). But Ellie immediately, like IMMEDIATELY goes and defends him. Is like uh-uh don’t even GO there, it’s not a possibility its just person of interest I don’t care if it’s literal hair at the scene of a man stabbed brutally seven times, he’s not a murderer. The grooooooowth Ellie, I’m so proud of you 🥺 we went from using that logical head to realizing it’s ok to listen to your heart and wade into situations with empathy (especially for the boy you ~*looOOoOoOve*~) And then Nick talking about his dad being dead and a deadbeat and walking out when he was 5, he looks at Ellie almost the entire time, only barely glancing over at McGee like he needs to have that connection with her, she grounds him when this is suddenly very jarring having a relative by semi-involved in a murder. And Ellie isn’t the slightest bit shocked when Nick dumps this news so clearly she’s heard it and by her look, not only has she heard this, but she does not like the man for what he did to Nick. She looks pissed his father hurt Nick like that because how dare any one hurt her man 😤

And oh here it is, we back on emo lane. Nick recognizing and seeing his dad for the first time in 30 years. It’s gonna hit like a 🎵freeeeeight traaaain🎵 at first he can’t even believe its him, he blinks like a thousand times because *surely* his eyes are deceiving him and then his dad goes and uses his nickname, his nickname people the CRUELTY. YOU DON’T GET TO JUST SHOW UP THIRTY YEARS LATER AND CALL HIM BY HIS CUTE LITTLE NICKNAME YOU GAVE HIM AS A CHILD. YOU DON’T MIGUEL. NOT IN THIS GD HOUSE. Ok and now nick is in pure shock because he just got confirmation that his dad is not only *not* dead, but he’s here in front of him, in DC no less, possibly a murderer no less. AND he’s finding this out by chasing him down *not* by Miguel reaching out to him while in DC. The shock and confusion and hurt my poor baby.

And when that shock wears off and it’s just barely contained rage, my heart 🥺 so of course Ellie goes in there with him and nows she needs to immediately be the support she knows he needs but he won’t admit to needing. Nick tries to deflect with a joke at first but oh honey it’s no use. But quick comedic relief for us on emo lane “sit down, no I don’t like sitting” AHAHAHA like father like son I’m cackling because the look Ellie and nick share and nick’s eyes warn her like don’t you dare fucking say it and she’s like yep yep nope I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing I’ll just look down and try to contain my laughter because now is NOT the time. But see I’m on my couch and I can laugh all I damn well please at this scenario that was gold from the writers thank you. On a more serious level this probably hurt nick even more seeing that he’s even got the smallest something similar to his dad. He’s probably desperate to be the exact opposite, he doesn’t want to even consider being capable of what his father was capable so this - while seemingly insignificant - thing like not wanting to sit in a chair will hit deep for him without him realizing it. If something so trivial is the exact same, wouldn’t something much much heavier like commitment to relationships and family be the exact same? Wouldn’t it?? And good god poor nick for going through that mental anguish, on emo rollercoaster lane. Because it just gets better when Miguel’s excuse for being in DC is “visiting family” like call your BULLSHIT Miguel you certainly ain’t visiting family and Nick now knows oh he lies too, great, another win for the Torres blood, fan-fucking-tastic. 

Quick peek at viewing room and we don’t believe in personal space, Ellie wants to be as close as possible to her hurting bby 🥺

But back to the emo stuff - Miguel just lying off his ass and Nick fed up with his father’s games because it’s truly just twisting that knife in his back that’s been stuck there for 30 years deeper and deeper. AND THEN Miguel has the audacity to yell out for “Nico” like bitch you do NOT get to call him that either. You walked out on him and never came back gtfo. And Ellie is trying so hard to keep it together but man she wants to do one of two things if not both at the same time - wrap Nick up in her arms and shield him from this deadbeat and/or punch this man through the glass to cause just a fraction of the hurt he caused Nick. But instead she just has to keep her cool to be the supportive girlfriend she is and ask nick what he thinks and then. Then. “He’s lying…because his lips are moving”

Well FUCK. Murder me right now. The anguuuuuuuish. Poor five year old Nick in a 35 year old Nick’s body. That little boy who was promised a big hojaldre in the morning from the next town over is right there. Right there to witness the father he thought he had, hasn’t changed. One of the only memories Nick probably has of his father is him leaving. Him lying and leaving. And what does he do when he finally shows up again? 

HE LIES AND LEAVES. HE FUCKING LIES AND LEAVES. (I know I’m getting ahead and technically at this point we don’t know he’ll leave again but whatever sue me because this shit is too much.)

Side note: Ellie talking about a “conflict of interest” that Nick didn’t interrogate his father is laughable considering she should have never interrogated Xavier but ok. 

Ooooo lets see some pissed off Nick. Let it loose baby, you deserve this. And I know I wrote about this in the tags somewhere but can we take a second to appreciate McGee’s growth??? Like bro went from straight up denial to acceptance and giving Ellie the look of “go talk to your boyfriend ok we need to make sure he’s alright and we both know your support is going to go a lot further than my support” and Ellie wordlessly kNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S SAYING. She’s like yeah, of course I’ll go help my man why wouldn’t I. 

I don’t know why but Ellie asking Nick if he’s talked to his “mom and sister” is just so 🥰 I can’t explain this one to you but I love this dialogue ok. Actually I love this whole ensuing conversation. Nick still is bitter (he has every gd right to be), Ellie playing the supportive girlfriend but *tiiiiiniest* bit of devil’s advocate with saying he might be innocent. Once again, so much growth because honestly she knows what it’ll do to Nick if his dad actually *is* a murderer. Like can we for a second imagine if his dad actually was guilty, right? Nick already saw he was like his dad in trivial things like not wanting to sit in chairs. Nick has already had serious, serious doubts to what he’s capable of aka worried he could, if the right buttons were pushed, be a murderer on multiple occasions. Ellie has been there with him for all of that, she knows how low his confidence is when it comes to his perceived “goodness” and she knows just how much it would break him if he learned his direct bloodline IS capable of murder. She knows how he’d spiral if that was true and so she’s gripping to any small possibility his dad is innocent. But nick, oh poor Nick my heart- he’s done. He opens up to Ellie without literally any prodding. He’s baring his long buried soul to her, that troubled, broken childhood that he surely keeps locked away in fear of letting anyone see a weakness. He bares it without question because he feels so safe in her presence he can let her in to see his deepest shame and by extension his deepest worry 🥺🥺🥺 and poor Ellie, she’s a little lost at how to go about helping him because she does have a good relationship with her dad, so yes all she has here for him is saying his father was guilty of a crap dad but it’s because she’s still trying to convince them both he has to be good. He has to be good for Nick’s sake. Buuuuuuut it doesn’t really work does it, because oh shit pissed the fuck off Nick is a site to behold isn’t it 🥵 kicking down doors once again and his smart “still think he’s innocent” oooooooo damn. Ellie’s face says it all- she’s trying so hard to hold out hope for Miguel, so hard. She needs him to be innocent she’s willing to speak it into existence a thousand times but her face is like fuck this is going to kill him and I can’t do a damn thing about it other than just watch. 

More pissed off Nick 🥵 but when you think about it is so so painful, all I can picture is that little 5 year old boy who woke up the next morning waiting, waiting, and waiting. Staring out the window at each car that slows down but ultimately passes. Tugging on his Mami’s shirt asking for the hundredth time when papi is coming back from the bakery with his hojaldre, oblivious to the tears that are slowly sliding down her cheek because she still can’t find the words to tell him what she knows deep down. That little boy who when the sun starts to set the confusion sets in with it. Why hasn’t my papi come back yet? Where is he? He promised. The sadness and sense of rejection that starts to fill his little heart when his mami tucks him and his sister into bed and he asks one final time where papi is and will he say goodnight to them and his Mami has to say she’s not sure when he’s coming home and quietly to the side, “if he’s coming home.” The little boy who weeks later has finally abandoned watching out the window every, single morning. The little boy who had his heart ripped out and thrown to the side of the road when he realized his papi didn’t go to the bakery and instead he was thrown out by his father like a day-old hojaldre. So yeah pissed Nick is fine af but good god the angst underneath is suffocating. Because Nick in this moment doesn’t know the *true* reason Miguel left. He knows what he lived and what he lived is a piece of shit. Nick’s response to “is that what you think of me” is amicable because OOF he could’ve gone the fuck off right there and told him what he really thought of him but he stuck with only a slight dig. TO WHICH MIGUEL. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. IT HASN’T HURT YOU MUCH. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. FUCK YOU. SOUNDS LIKE YOU WERE A SHIT DAD SO YEAH PROBABLY A GOOD THING YOU LEFT. THANK HIM NICK WITH YOUR FISTS BECAUSE HE’S A LITTLE SHIT. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. TOUGHENED HIM UP SO MUCH HE SHUTS EVERYONE OUT. YEAH FUCK YOU. 

And then man here is the point where it all just muddies in Nick’s mind. The poor dude. He knows this line of work, hell he was undercover for almost a decade. He understands how that leaves almost no room for a family. He gets it, so deep deep deep down a tiny part of him realizes why Miguel likely *thought* it was ok to ditch his family. But for thirty years he’s felt abandoned- no reasoning can change that. 

“It’s good to know he was making a nice living while my family was starving” fucking GET HIM NICK. Damn I wish Miguel had been in the room for that. He deserved to hear that one. Ruthless. 

I do not know how I missed this the first time around but holy shit Nick asked to be removed from the case. Nicholas Torres- a man who does not back down. A man who bullied his way into finishing his first ever case with this team that he was arguably way too close to that one too. This is how much pain Miguel brings him. A man who does not quit, not in his vocabulary - was so pissed at getting sent home back when Reeves died, he asks to get sidelined. He actually asks to get sidelined. Holy shit Miguel did a number on Nick and I mean we knew this but 🥺😭😭 poor bby. No wonder you don’t trust yourself in a serious relationship. It’s not the girl you’re worried about it’s you. You don’t think you’re capable of staying, you’re terrified you’ll be just like your dad and leave. once again, you’ve seen the similarities with trivial things and so this just cements your fear of failing at commitment. And this is Nick in just so much pain he asks to step back. oof. I do love Leon stepping into a slight fatherly role for Nick right there though, he shows his support, his pride in Nick and in that moment I think Nick realizes while his father by blood is shit, he’s got several other strong role models in his life that care and that’s why he agrees to work with him. 

Nick’s smarts comment about leaving the note behind 🤣 oh classic Torres move. Also do yourself a favor and pause it on Ellie’s reaction to him. GOLD hahaha she’s like ooo-kay did you really feel the need to say that, let’s not. Honestly I think I’ve given this look to my husband almost daily. They married y’all. 

So married that she overhears Miguel trying to talk to Nick and her hackles raise!!! She’s like hold the fuck up do not traumatize my baby even more, Nick do you need me??? Because I will get you out of this, I will be here for you, I will fight this man, just say the damn word!!!! And Nick ugh, his look. They can communicate with just a simple look, he knows all that she would do for him in that moment and still nods her off, but that tiny bit of gratitude is present. Then we find out that yes Grace is really good at guessing theories “in order to keep his young family safe, it means he has to leave. Of course he can’t *tell* them why he has to leave so that they continue to stay innocent and safe. So he plays it like he’s a deadbeat dude who was “too young” to be a father and is just now realizing it and leaves his wife, little daughter & son behind. Flash forward thirty years and the NCIS case leads them to him. A piece of evidence pops up with his alias, they go knocking down doors to interrogate a potential suspect (Nick’s father) before our lovely CIA agent interfere and claims he’s innocent because he’s a CI…” like DAMN, I’m good. Hahaha any ways the reason I bring this up is because I feel like I predicted/analyzed Nick’s feelings really well back then in this theory and after seeing his expressions, they hold true. Nick is just absolutely warring with himself during this explanation, searching for anything to confirm his dad truly is a deadbeat (and yes he is still absolutely a piece of shit for what he did, but there’s a “good” reason for his leaving and that’s what makes it so- hard.) and as I said when I first broke this down, Nick understands undercover work and his dad (being the POS he is) brings that up to Nick. Like he should “get” it because wouldn’t he do the same thing since he’s in that life? But here’s where (and Nick doesn’t totally realize it yet) Nick and Miguel are different. Because Nick came back, Nick stayed. He stayed y’all and he says it here but he does not realize the implications of his words quite yet. He is NOT the same as Miguel. Yeah he doesn’t like to sit in chairs but he has stayed. He has stayed through some tough shit too but he’s stayed nonetheless. More than Miguel could ever fucking say, that’s for sure. So yes, when Nick has the come to Jesus and realizes that he is not the same as his dad and he can and will stay? Damn I can’t wait for that moment. Also I wanted to slap Miguel when he called Nick “mijo” because BITCH YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM THAT. YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM YOUR SON. NO. “I’m not perfect but I did the best I could” well fuck you too Miguel because look at this broken five year old boy inside a thirty five year old man’s body. Does that look like the product of a “best you could”?? Does he look “ok” to you??? Fuck you. 

But yes here’s my take on where Nick is at: how do you forgive someone you’ve despised for thirty years once you know they “didn’t have a choice” (even though it will always feel like they had a choice or they could’ve explained it to you even if you were only five) and left in reality token you safe and give you a better chance at life? How do you reconcile the real dad and the one you lived with in your head for so long?? How???

And then you’re stuck still reeling from the night before and the bomb that was dropped and the reconciliation you’re attempting to your dad bringing in the ONE THING. The ONE THING he promised to bring home in the morning thirty years prior. How the actual fuck does one come back from that. Can I give another big FUCK YOU to Miguel Torres? Because seriously??? Why do you ever think that’s ok??? Hey I promised my kid I’d bring him hojaldres in the morning for breakfast thirty years ago so may as well make good on that promise right, only thirty years late that’s totally fine right? He won’t tell the difference right?

Fuck you, Miguel. 

And they’re still clearly Nick’s favorite because he’s brought Jimmy to a restaurant specifically for them and that just makes my heart break for the man he had to become without a father. He still held onto that love for them even though they were probably always associated with a horrible, horrible memory of being abandoned 🥺🥺 god damn Nick you’re so broken I’m so sorry. 

Ellie is still as supportive as ever and good god we clearly have lost all pretense of personal space at this point, what is her we don’t know her isn’t this normal for coworkers? But this conversation implies he called her after his talk with his dad and ugh yesssss 😩❤️ I still think he called her immediately after leaving the building, talked the entire car ride home and while getting ready for bed, needing the comfort of her voice on the other end of the line as he worked through his whirlwind of emotions and tried to come down off the cliff he felt himself on. All pretenses of a bad boy with a mysterious flare forever gone, his heart is open for her to see and he doesn’t give two shits about it anymore. But Ellie does a damn good job of girlfriend duties here and not only supports him but also gently prods him to see if he can maybe one day have a relationship with his father. The parallels she brings up makes him think (and also makes him look at her lips twice 👀 he’s just so close to her how could he not I mean right 😅) and I love that she’s still being v supportive but also trying to help him grow. 

And then Ellie giving Nick the option to go with his dad or go to the other location because she’s not going to push anything on him he doesn’t want and then when he chooses the embassy to avoid his dad her reaction had me laughing 🤣 but she respects it. And yet shortly after Miguel tries to team up with Nick and Ellie hears it from the other side of the bullpen, immediately all ears to step in if he wants to avoid him again despite giving him flack for it earlier. Nick can sense her worry and support and this is the moment he takes her advice in just a tiny step and accepts teaming up with his dad. But OMG KILL ME WHEN NICK THINKS HIS DAD IS DEAD BEFORE HE GETS TO TRY AT A RELATIONSHIP AGAIN. HIS WHISPERED “papa’s” I CAAAAAN’T. 

Ugh and then his last conversation with his dad while Ellie is checking on him constantly. It’s just too much, that little boy is back, desperately hoping for his dad to stick around. And Ellie is just so happy she can’t contain it for him and it’s perfect. He walks right to her, her hand on his back because they just need to touch each other after such a heavy couple of days and Nick echoes her advice back at her because he’s showing he listens and he values her insight and I just love it. 

AND THEN MIGUEL HAS COME TO RIP MY HEART OUT BECAUSE HE’S A PIECE OF SHIT REMEMBER. 

My poor bby Nick’s face when he realized his dad LIES AND LEAVES. REMEMBER. HE LIES AND LEAVES. God Wilmer killed it because Nick is literally on the verge of tears and my heart breaks and then yes he goes to Gibbs to see his pseudo-father who he then realizes is more of a father figure than Miguel will ever be and hell that’s okay but STILL. 

I will end this WWR with a I love supportive girlfriend Ellie and another big Fuck You to Miguel Torres.

Goodnight.

[slasherbastard]

May I ask for 31, 41, and 52 from the prompts for either Vincent or Brahms, whoever you want to choose. I hope you're doing well:))

(gif credit: stabhappyslashers)

Warning: Self Harm, Angst, Swearing,  Word count: 2120 Notes: Trigger warning,, this work is mostly about self harm so if you’re uncomfortable please don’t read it. Also “Y/N” is gender neutral in this

A string of curses fell from Vincent’s mouth as the shower water hit his thighs, stinging as the water fell in a light shade of an orangey-red. He tried to ignore the pain as he grabbed some shampoo and massaged it through his hair, trying to promise himself that this would be the last time - but that’s what he’d said last time. Vincent doesn’t fully know what caused his relapse but here he was assuming it was stress. The stress of expanding the wax museum to the whole town, although it’s a team effort it was still hard when he was the one making sure the figures looked human enough. It was also hard when Bo criticised everything Vince did, especially when he was still learning.

“What the hell is that? They’re supposed to look real, not like whatever that is. Do it again.”

There were times when Vincent wished he could talk back to his brother but even if he could he knew Bo wouldn’t have it and the scars would be worse. Vincent bit his cheek and groaned in pain as a sharp sting came from his leg again, moving himself so that only his head was hitting the water, a few drops trickling down his body and narrowly avoiding the scars. He had his eye tightly shut so he could also avoid seeing the scars that littered his upper thighs, they repulsed him but it was too late and they didn’t look like scratches that would fade in a few weeks or a few days if he was lucky.

Half an hour later he was out of the shower and trying to avoid staring at his legs as he slipped on a pair of sweatpants. Looking up and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror made him freeze for a few seconds, he stared at the chunks of hair sticking to the scarred side of his face and pushed it behind his ear. He felt nothing but pure disgust as he stared into that foggy mirror at himself, how could someone ever love someone as disgusting as me? It scared him to think like that but he couldn't help it. He really couldn't see what you saw in him, he's a cold hearted killer and you're possibly the nicest person he's ever met - although the bar is pretty low, Vincent's definition of a nice person is someone who doesn't treat him the way his brother treats him, like shit. The only person’s company that Vincent enjoyed was yours. Ever since his parent's passing and being stuck in a town where the only person who could tolerate him was his abusive twin brother, Vincent felt so alone - that was until he met you. He really couldn't believe that someone like you existed, but what would you think if you found out about his secret?

A sudden knock on the bathroom door interrupted Vincent’s thoughts. He stepped out and grabbed a towel and quickly wrapped it around his waist as he waited for his brother to bang on the door and yell at him for not answering straight away but instead, he heard your voice. “Vincent?”

He opened the bathroom door and smiled as your face came into view. “Hey Vince, are you coming to bed soon?"

"S-Soon." He managed to get out, Y/N smiled at Vincent and leaned in, kissing him through the space in the door before leaving him to finish getting ready for bed. Vincent closed the door and his smile faded out. He took one last look in the mirror before and left, catching up to you as you finished descending the stairs.

---

You fell beside Vincent and he melted into your chest as you stroked his hair, he pulled the blankets over the two of you and snuggled up closer to you. "Hey Vincent?" Vincent looked up at you and made a 'mhmm' noise. "I don't want to seem like I'm rushing things but are we ever going to- you know, do it?"

Vincent widened his eyes and you quickly began apologising until he held up a hand and let out a mumbled laugh. "Okay. It's okay." He paused and tried to collect his words but he struggled. He didn't want to say yes because he knew you'd be disgusted by him and his scars, but if he said no then you'd be hurt and possibly leave him. Either way, one of you was gonna hurt. Vincent let go of you. "Tired."

"Oh. Uh, goodnight." You fisted the blanket and pulled it close for warmth before almost instantly falling asleep while Vincent laid there, questioning the choice he made and the things you said. Did you really want to have sex with him? No, that can't be. Vincent watched you sleep beside him as he moved a hand down to his leg and pressed down on his left upper thigh through his sweatpants and winced, quickly glancing up at you to make sure you were still asleep. He removed his hand and continued to watch you as his eyes began to drop and he fell asleep beside you.

The next morning Vincent woke up alone. He pulled himself out of bed and slipped on one a sweater that was lying on the floor and headed upstairs to the kitchen where you were making breakfast. "Vince! I'm making bacon and eggs, come on!" Vincent joined you in the kitchen and got out enough plates and utensils for three and set everything up on counter. "Oh, Bo isn't here. He's out looking for trouble." You let out a laugh and brought the pan over to the counter and dropped the food onto two of the plates before putting the pan in the sink and dousing it in water.

The two of you ate mostly in silence except for the occasional crunch from the bacon. "About last night-" You both looked up at as the front door opened and Bo walked in. "Hey Bo, I didn't realise you'd be back this early. Do you want me to make you some breakfast?"

"Nope, I'm just here to grab some supplies n' then I'm gone again."

You waited until Bo had disappeared upstairs before turning back to Vincent. "I-I can wait if you're not ready, it really doesn't bother me." Vincent just nodded in response and continued eating, thinking about the interaction between you and Bo. He just knew that you liked Bo more than him, it was so fucking obvious. Vincent finished his breakfast before you and dumped his plate and utensils in the sink just as Bo was coming downstairs holding a duffle bag. Vincent stepped out in front of Bo and stared at him. "What'cha want, freak?" Bo chuckled to himself and stepped to the side but Vincent followed him.

"D-D-D-"

"D-D-D- What? What the fuck do you want?" Bo started growing more aggressive, that's when Vincent shoved him into the ground and pounced on him, repeatedly punching and kneeing him. Bo threw him off and quickly stood up, Vincent following his actions. Bo reached up to his face and touched his cheek, he wiped the blood that coated his fingertips on his coveralls and picked the bag up again and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll be back late, don't wait up for me, asshole." He muttered the last part under his breath just loud enough for Vincent to hear, as soon as Bo left you turned to Vincent with a disappointed and shocked expression on your face.  

"What the hell, Vince? He didn't do anything." Vincent ignored you and ran upstairs, hoping you wouldn't follow him as he locked himself in the bathroom and grabbed the second best thing to a knife, his razor. He knew it couldn't do as much damage as the knife but a razor sure still hurt like a bitch. He did what he felt like he had to do, small trickles of blood forming over the cuts from last night. He wished he stop, he wanted to, but he couldn't. All he did was disappoint everyone around him, this was for the best. Vincent slid down and sat on the cool tiles and watched the blood pool and drip off his leg onto the floor, he knew what nobody liked him but this wasn't one of those situations where he could run away to a new town and restart his life. Vincent was cursed with the face he has and no mask could ever make him feel human or deserving of anything. "Vincent?"

History repeated itself. A knock on the door interrupted Vincent. "Vince it's me, open the door." Bo's voice was quiet, it was a side of him that Vincent thought died with his innocence. "Please. I want to talk. I promise I ain't gonna hurt 'ya."

Vincent watched the door as he backed up into the furthest wall which wasn't that far since the bathroom was pretty small. "N-No!" Vincent reached for the towel above him and tried to cover up his legs but it was too late. Bo had broken down the door and the sight made him freeze and even worse, you were standing behind him with wide glassy eyes. Vincent tried to open his mouth but he couldn't, he tried to speak but he couldn't. Bo took a step back and tried to process what was happening before him, he was fine with blood but seeing Vincent partially covered in it made him feel weird. You pushed past him and ran to Vincent's side, Vincent looked like he was going to faint either from shock or blood loss. "Vince? Vince? Hey, stay with me."

"Please."

"What is it? Anything-"

"Please don't l-look at me." Vincent's eyes closed, you looked back at Bo and started ordering him to get Vincent into the basement while you looked for whatever could help Vincent, since Ambrose doesn't have a hospital - and even if it did, it would still be completely useless. You tried not to cry as you gathered your equipment, painkillers, bandages, medical tape, towels, alcohol, all that good stuff. How did you not see this? How did Vincent get away with this? How long has he been doing this? You threw everything onto the table and watched as Bo placed Vincent on the bed, you quickly wiped away your tears and started tending to the wounds while Bo watched.

After playing medic for a good 15 minutes the surgery was a success - it wasn't too bad, Vincent thankfully didn't need stitches - you threw the bloody towels aside and threw the blanket over Vincent and turned to Bo. "Did you know about this?"

Bo was silent. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Vincent and stroked his forehead, moving the hair out of his face. "He used to, but I didn't realise he started again or that it was this bad."

You bit your lip and got up from the bed, rubbing your head and looking at Bo. "How long has he been doing this?"

"Since mom died, I think."

"I'll talk to him when he wakes up." Bo nodded and left you alone to wait for Vincent to wake up. You didn't have to wait long, he ended up shooting up and scaring the crap out of you about an hour or so later. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Vincent looked at you confused. "What?"

"The- where did all these scars come from?"

Vincent's expression faded and he looked down. "I don't-" Vincent grew quiet for a few seconds. "I don't want to be like this."

"Be like what, Vince?"

"Me." It was just one word but it caused you so much pain. You loved Vincent more than anything in this world and the thought of losing him hurt - you never had to think about losing him, just the realisation threw you back. "I am disgusting." He mumbled.

"Vincent. No. You're not disgusting." You felt useless just saying that but you were lost. "Vincent. I can't lose you. I know that I can't say anything that'll make you stop and this won't stop overnight, is there anything I can do right now?" you swore Vincent could hear your heart through your chest as it felt like it was going to burst out like it does in Looney Tunes, Vincent took your hand and looked at you.

"I w-will try." You smiled and he pulled you in, careful not to touch his legs.

"I'm here for you, Vince. I swear I'm never going to leave you - especially for Bo." you jokingly made a disgusted face at the mention of Bo causing the two of you to quietly laugh. "You're way too important."

[apolloloki97]

"Solid as Stone" Ian Gallagher x Mickey Milkovich

Summary: What if when Monica came back, Ian went to find Mandy that day, but found Mickey. Instead of going right to the store for a hookup, Ian runs away distraught after not finding his best friend. Mickey can't help but follow and comfort the redhead he has clearly fallen for.

Or when Ian is freaking out, Mickey is there to comfort him.

Word Count: 2679

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Stone" by Jaymes Young

Note: This is just a bit of an AU what if kind of thing. I just liked it and I love comforting and soft Mickey and I know that day he could tell that Ian was torn.

-----------

Monica was back and Ian didn’t know how to deal with any of it.

As soon as she rolled back into town, Ian felt as if he was suffocating and he had to get out. He didn’t even care if Terry was home at that moment, he needed to see Mandy.

His thoughts kept flicking to Mickey but he knew that regardless of the kind of situation they were in, Mickey would throttle him before he even considered offering Ian a comforting hand. Mickey had been very clear about the nature of their relationship if you could even call it that. Ian knew that there was more to them just random hookups, but he didn’t have time to unpack any of it at the moment.

Mandy had to be the one and he needed her now.

Ian arrived at the front of the Milkovich house and barrelled up the steps, his breathing still labored. His fist made contact with the wooden door, frantically begging someone to open up. It took a moment before the front door was wrenched open and it wasn’t the Milkovich sibling Ian had wanted to see right then, but one he was always wishing to see no matter what. Mickey, who had a cigarette in his mouth, seemed surprised at Ian’s frantic look. “Gallagher?” he asked.

“Mandy, is she here?” Ian breathed out, trying to see behind Mickey and into the house.

“What?”

“Is Mandy here?” Ian asked again, his breathing still sporadic. “I need to see her.” Mickey frowned as he took in the state of Ian as the younger boy seemed to be running off pure anxiety. Something was definitely wrong with him and it surprised Mickey as he realized he was incredibly concerned about Ian Gallagher. However, after all the time he had spent around the kid, he had come to pick up on all of Ian’s idiosyncrasies.

“She’s not here,” Mickey told him, glancing over his shoulder where Terry was passed out on the couch. “She went away with Iggy for a couple of days.” Ian let out a breath, still very jumpy, as he looked back and forth, trying to figure out what he was going to do. “Gallagher, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he rushed out as he glanced behind him, almost as if he expected Monica to be running after him, but the street remained silent. “I… I gotta go,” he stammered before nodding to himself, turning around, and half-stumbling down the steps. Mickey watched after him for a few seconds, still very confused at Ian’s behaviors. Ian shuffled out into the street and then Mickey nearly jumped out of his skin as a car screeched to a halt right in front of the redhead. Honking blared through the neighborhood as the man behind the wheel cursed at Ian who was raising his hands in apologies.

As soon as Ian was out of the street, the car sped off, leaving Ian to stare at it for only a second before he moved to run down an alley in between the houses, still somewhat out of it. Mickey glanced back inside his house for a second before swearing, “Fucking Gallagher.” Grabbing his coat, he shut the door behind him and took off after the redhead.

It didn’t take long for Mickey to pick up on Ian’s trail as the kid had the loudest footsteps on the Southside. Mickey kept telling himself that the only reason he was doing this was that he wanted to know if Ian was on something and if he could get a hit. However, behind the denial, he knew the truth. He did care about Gallagher and he could tell Ian was going through something.

It was only another block that Mickey finally found him. Ian was on the ground, his back against the wall of the empty alleyway and he was breathing harder than he was when he had shown up on Mickey’s porch. Slowly, Mickey approached him, keeping an eye on the redhead’s hands. He knew Ian well enough to know that the kid could punch just as well as anyone on the Southside and he wasn’t looking forward to being on the other side of one of those freckled fists if he startled him.

“Gallagher?” Mickey tried, but Ian remained frozen, his eyes only on the cold asphalt. “Gallagher,” he tried again, but still, Ian remained oblivious to his presence. With a sigh, Mickey ran a hand through his hair before finally stepping right into the other boy’s view. “Ian?” he asked, softer this time. Ian’s breath stuttered for a second before his eyes flicked to the worried blue ones above him.

“What do you want?” Ian asked and while the words sent a dagger to Mickey’s heart, it was a valid question. Why had he followed him? Ian had no reason to trust that Mickey Milkovich cared for him. Mickey hated that he had led him to believe that he was only using him for sex, but he understood. Mickey was never one for affection, but it wasn’t as if he had any role models to learn from. Colin had tried to somewhat raise his younger siblings, but there was only so much he could do. Mickey was on his own in this department, but he was hoping Ian could be the beginning of his effort to show the compassion he clearly felt.

“What happened?” Mickey asked, finally crouching down to get on Ian’s level. The boy in front of him looked frailer than Mickey had ever seen him. The Gallaghers were known to be tough sons of bitches, but everyone had their breaking point, Mickey supposed.

“My mom,” Ian said. “My mom came home and just fucked it all up.” Mickey nodded, understanding immediately. If you knew about the Gallaghers and especially if you knew about Frank, you knew about Monica. Terry hated the woman and Mickey finally could see why. If the way Ian was acting was evidence of how her kids felt when she came back, she definitely should have stayed gone.

“Hurricane Monica,” Mickey simply said. Ian looked at him in surprise. Mickey sank to the ground next to Ian, their shoulders almost touching. “Fiona’s mentioned her a few times at the Alibi, Frank, too. I think we all get the picture enough to know she ain’t exactly mother of the fucking year.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ian said and Mickey was glad to hear that his breathing was sounding a little better. Ian let his head fall back to rest on the bricks behind him. “She always does this, Mickey,” Ian began and Mickey remained quiet, just letting Ian talk. “She comes into town and makes it seem like she’s going to stay. Debbie and Carl don’t deserve that shit.”

“Neither do you,” Mickey said automatically. Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s who was just staring in front of him, his hands playing with the cigarette he still held.

“She’s my mom,” Ian tried to rationalize.

“So?” Mickey said, finally looking at him again. “Frank is your dad and he’s a piece of shit. Terry is my dad and he’s...he’s… fuck he’s the fucking worse.” Ian could hear the hesitancy in Mickey’s voice. Everyone knew how horrible Terry was, but Ian was starting to think there was more to the racist asshole than nobody else knew. “My father hates me,” Mickey finally continued. “He hates me and he doesn’t even know that…”

“That you hook up with guys?” Ian offered, not wanting to push Mickey by slapping the “gay” label on him. He had learned his lesson with that before.

“He’d kill me if he knew,” Mickey said. “And if I had the chance to get the hell out of dodge to be away from him, I would. I don’t care if they’re our parents, they don’t owe us shit if they’ve never been parents, you know?” Ian was quiet for a minute before he nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what to do, Mick,” Ian said, casually dropping the nickname he had been trying out for a while. If it was any other time, Mickey would have made a comment about it, but he just enjoyed the rush that went through him at Ian saying his name.

“What do you want to do?” Mickey asked. “Cause that’s all up to you, man.”

“I want her to get the fuck out,” Ian said. “If she’s leaving again, it’s gonna be on our terms this time, not hers.” Ian struggled to keep his hands still and his emotions in check. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Mickey. This was why he needed Mandy.

However, Mickey Milkovich surprised him as he always did.

Tattooed fingers suddenly covered freckled ones and Ian’s hand was enveloped in a warm and firm grip. Ian looked up at Mickey who was looking at him with actual concern.

“Don’t let her ruin you,” Mickey said firmly.

“She’s already done that,” Ian said, trying not to focus too much on the hand in his.

“Says who, huh?” Mickey countered. “Who says you’re fucking ruined? You’re not. You’re…” Mickey trailed off for a second. His eyes flickered from Ian’s lips and then back to his face. “You’re damn solid, Gallagher. A fucking tower of stone, so don’t think that some woman can just come back and fuck with you just because she’s your blood. Blood don’t mean shit when it comes to family anyways.”

Ian was looking at him with wonder in his eyes. He had never seen this side of Mickey and he was already mourning the fact that he may never again for a while once they left that alley. In case he was right, Ian clutched onto Mickey’s hand tighter, letting him feel the other boy’s pulse beneath his fingers.

“Thanks,” he breathed, almost afraid to speak any louder in case it shattered whatever peace they had built.

“Still wish Mandy was here instead?” Mickey asked and there was no malice behind it.

“Absolutely not,” Ian admitted as he glanced down at Mickey’s mouth. They were silent for a moment before Ian asked about something Mickey had just said. “Would you really leave to get away from Terry?”

“I wouldn’t go far,” Mickey admitted, looking at him through hooded eyes. “I could never go too far from you, could I? Who’d run after you when you’re going out of your fucking mind?” Ian smiled, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know, I’m sure I could find someone,” he said and then boldly continued, “maybe Kash has a friend around his age.”

That did it.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Mickey growled as he grabbed onto Ian’s neck and slammed his lips against the other boy's mouth. Ian reacted immediately, tugging Mickey closer to him. Mickey’s heart was slamming in his chest and he knew it was risky to kiss Ian out in the open, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He had been wanting to kiss him since the first time he had seen Ian smile. It wasn’t until they had sex for the first time that that need to kiss him had intensified tenfold. Mickey grabbed at Ian’s coat, trying to make the distance between them nonexistent.

When Ian slipped his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, Mickey was done for. He could never go back to just having sex after this. This was...indescribable and he needed it all. Mickey was as inexperienced as it got when it came to kissing men, but Ian seemed to be a master according to Milkovich. Ian ran his hands up Mickey’s arms and then up to his neck where his large hands took hold of Mickey’s face as he continued to devour the other boy’s mouth.

Eventually, they both needed to breathe and Mickey was the first to pull back, though he didn’t go far. “That was…” Ian began, his breathing heavy but this time for a completely different reason.

“Long overdue,” Mickey finished, his breath matching pace with Ian’s. “I didn’t mean to do that like this. You know in a shithole,” he said, gesturing to the disgusting alley.

“Our whole neighborhood is a shithole,” Ian pointed out causing Mickey to smile slightly. Ian couldn’t help himself as he pressed another kiss to Mickey’s lips before leaning back again. “Don’t think I’m not going to take advantage of being allowed to do that now.”

“Who says this ain’t a one-time thing, firecrotch?” Mickey asked, raising one of his very expressive eyebrows.

“Me,” Ian said simply and Mickey rolled his eyes, but didn’t move away from Ian. His expression then turned concerned once again.

“Feeling better?” Mickey asked and Ian nodded.

“Getting there,” Ian admitted, referring back to his Monica meltdown. “You helped quite a bit,” he said cheekily and Mickey just snorted. “Thanks, Mick,” Ian said and Mickey could hear all the sincerity behind his words. Mickey nodded and then sat back beside Ian, their shoulders pressed together as if they were afraid to not be touching each other.

“Don’t think you can’t come to me when you’re in trouble, Gallagher,” Mickey said. “I ain’t gonna fucking turn you away. Not you.” Ian nodded again and then leaned his head on Mickey’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home,” Ian admitted. Mickey leaned into Ian and nodded.

“Me either,” said Mickey as he thought about his father back on their worn-out couch.

“Monica has to go,” Ian whispered.

“I could make that happen, you know?” Mickey said casually. “I still have that uncle down at the foundry.” Ian jabbed him in the ribs, but Mickey knew he was smiling.

“No thanks,” Ian said with a sigh. “Murder wouldn’t look good on you.”

“Please,” Mickey scoffed, “everything looks good on me.”

“And off, too,” Ian added and that got Mickey’s attention. Ian was looking up at him and when Mickey met his eyes, he could see just a hint of mischief in his green eyes.

“Are you coming onto me, Gallagher,” Mickey said.

“Always,” Ian said as his hands pushed into Mickey’s dark hair.

“I ain’t havin’ you get on me in some back alley,” Mickey said. “I have standards, asshole.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have keys to the store,” Ian said with a lower voice. Mickey chewed on that thought for a second before jumping to his feet and dragging Ian with him.

“You are a fucking menace,” Mickey whispered to Ian who just beamed at him, and then Ian’s smile turned softer.

“So, I’m solid huh?” Ian asked, looking at Mickey who wasn’t running away for once.

“As stone,” Mickey agreed. “You’re gonna be just fine, Red. Monica issues or not, you,” he said, poking Ian in the chest, “are gonna be fine.” Ian could have cried then, but he settled on grabbing Mickey by his coat and kissing him hard. Mickey kissed him back, still trying to get used to the feel, but he figured he’d get the hang of it soon.

Ian pulled back first this time and smiled at Mickey, grateful that he had been the Milkovich sibling to answer the damn door. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“You already said that,” Mickey reminded him.

“And I’ll keep saying it, dumbass,” Ian teased and then began walking backward, gesturing to Mickey to follow him.

Mickey just smiled and jogged to catch up with Ian. As the two of them headed to the store, Mickey forced himself to watch where he was going because all he could focus on was that Ian was back to being Ian and he, Mickey, had helped bring that smile back. Cautiously, he took Ian’s hand for just a fraction of a second before letting go. It was brief, but Ian knew what it meant. Sure, he was solid, unmoving, but to Mickey, Ian was his rock, the one that kept him grounded when everything else was trying to pull him away and if he’d let him, Mickey also wanted to be that for Ian.

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

can you give me drowsy headcanons, ramble, or anything please, i am so deprived. do not be afraid to make it super long, the more the better, i just love drowsy chaperone and love to hear other people (plus you’re one of the only people i’ve seen who knows a lot abt it)

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

I’ll divide this into a few different parts, going from least to most excruciatingly sad :)

1. general headcanons

2. in canon things i noticed and think about daily

3. a full analysis of man in chair’s connections with the drowsy chaperone as an in universe show (trigger warning for abuse ment, alcoholism ment, suicide ment)

SECTION ONE: HEADCANONS

- okay the chaperone is trans I don’t make the rules

- also her name is ambrosia :) she forsook her last name :)

- she’s about 12 years older than janet and kinda hung with janet’s family after leaving her own for a while . essentially she’s a big sister to janet

- aldolpho has some lines where he asks if the bride is big and/or burly and while in canon this is supposed to show he’s kind of a womanizer I like to believe it’s because he was fully prepared to fight her if needed

- speaking of which Of Course janet is ripped she does gymnastics

- my batshit crazy headcanon for this show is that dee dee allen from the prom is a descendant of roman bartelli no I will not elaborate

- is aldolpho one of those bitches with pets that definitely shouldn’t be legal? yessir

- post show kitty becomes a star okay I just want her to be happy

- the “pastry chefs” do discover a love of baking post show and now run a shop along with performing in feldzeig’s follies which might maybe be a front for some crime too

- TRIX DROWSY AND ALDOLPHO WORLD TRAVELING POLYCULE CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

- underling’s name is james I will not elaborate on this either

- show never says what trix does so I’ve decided she’s an explorer. she charts maps and punches colonialists and drags her stupid friends along with her, the only bitch in the show with a braincell

- drowsy was a former vaudeville child star pre transition - she left the business but was a mentor to janet

- I do have a headcanon for mic’s name but in the spirit of every actor who’s ever played him I won’t fucking tell

SECTION TWO: SHIT I NOTICED

- robert refers to himself by full name a lot of the time which is v interesting given he’s named after the writer, bob martin (whose wife is also named janet van de graaf). the real bob martin is like five feet away at all times playing mic

- idk how to describe it but the dynamic kitty and feldzeig (VICTOR felgzeig. we have a name from one (1) line) have when talking to each other is so snappy and funny and good

- aldolpho’s lines in spanish are mostly romantic bullshit but his first one hints that he has/had a wife who, if we’re taking the translation literally, refused to touch him. yeah I’ll bring this up in analysis

- the “pastry chefs” provide liquor for the wedding even though it has absolutely no relevance to their mission of stopping it :)

- drowsy is like. SUPER endearing towards janet and despite her bad social skills it’s super clear she cares a lot about her

- robert speaks fluent french apparently

- everyone says “ew” after aldolpho reveals his affair with drowsy despite her being a certified milf

- the body language of drowsy in the end of the show where she takes mic’s hands and breaks the barrier between reality and fiction is just so good. she was iconic the whole show but I honestly think this final bit is what won beth leavel the Tony in the end

SECTION THREE: OH NO

before diving into the way the drowsy chaperone affects his character, we need to understand what exactly it’s playing off of. to fully understand mic’s attachment to the drowsy chaperone, we need to outline what led him to isolating himself and living in fiction to the extent that he does.

mic’s father left his family at an early age and his semi estranged alcoholic mother was the one who began his love for theatre. mic grew up in a broken household and eventually moved on to land in a one sided marriage, which lasted a few months until he slipped up and expressed his discomfort with the situation, after which he and his wife split. nowadays, he lives alone in his apartment surrounded by records he uses to escape to a better life - his favorite of which being the one his mother gave him, the drowsy chaperone.

symbolism in the drowsy chaperone regarding mic’s life can be split into two main categories - mommy issues and internalized homophobia. there isn’t nearly as much mom symbolism as there is the latter, so I’ll cover that first.

drowsy covers both bases, but she definitely has some undeniable mom symbolism going on. drowsy marries aldolpho and mom dreams of being swept off her feet by a latin lover, both feel they’ve wasted their chances at love, both drink to forget, etc. this is where the idea of the drowsy chaperone being mic’s ideal way for things to work out, a positive parallel, comes into play. given that we don’t hear too much about mic’s mom other than her connections to major life events and the record itself, we can assume they grew apart in one way or another. the key difference is that drowsy finds a happy relationship for herself and retains her bond with janet, unlike what we’re led to assume mom was like.

further elaborating on the drowsy chaperone representing mic’s ideal fantasy version of events is the wedding the drowsy chaperone’s plot centers around. here’s a list of the things that didn’t stop that damn wedding:

- a minister not showing up

- the groom cheating on the bride with the bride

- the bride having a complete mental breakdown

- indirect mafia interference

- direct mafia interference

on the flip side, what little mic says about his wedding indicates it sucked absolute ass. he spent the entire ceremony in internal distress as he went through with a life changing event he, at that point, knew at least a bit that he didn’t want. I think he also implies he had severe diarrhea on the wedding day? it gets worse when you realize mic’s relationship before the wedding wasn’t any good for him either - he was playing along the whole time because it would be cruel not to, right?

throughout the show, mic is pretty clearly shown as an extremely repressed gay man. there are five specific instances that point at romantic and/or sexual attraction to men directly and another moment outside of his commentary that pretty much confirms it if you look a little bit deeper. thus, here is what I propose - to mic, the drowsy chaperone’s wedding plot represents a world where he was able to ignore that part of himself and have a happy marriage with his wife despite all the overwhelming obstacles thrown at him. however, bits and pieces of that internalized homophobia manage to show themselves throughout the drowsy chaperone anyway despite its happy ending. here’s a rundown on a few significant instances:

- by the end of the show, the “pastry chefs”, who had literally been planning to kill feldzeig, have left their life of crime to perform with him. this symbolizes how in mic’s ideal world he would have been able to turn away from what he perceived at the time as living wrongly - his homosexuality

- at the same time, the “pastry chefs” have this line, spoken in regards to janet: “if she gets married and leaves the show... there ain’t no show.” this is a take on mic’s subconscious concern that he might lose himself if he goes on with his marriage pretending everything is alright - of course, as we already know, he doesn’t listen

- “cold feets” is a pretty obvious instance of mic’s hesitation

- aldolpho’s line in spanish regarding the wife who won’t touch him flips to reflect on mic’s treatment of his own ex wife - she was alien to him as a lover, just as aldolpho was to this woman

- janet recalls her meeting robert at a point in the show and states “we spooned, briefly, then he proposed.” though mic’s relationship pre marriage was much longer than that, it must have felt that way to him - just as quick and nonsensical as janet describes

- just as janet is caught in showbiz but has a toxic love for it, so does mic with his own repressed life

- janet has a line in “show off” that alludes to her experiencing harassment/assault: “I don’t wanna be cheered no more/ praised no more/ grabbed no more/ touched no more/ loved no more” , which I believe represents the way mic perceived his intimacy with his wife - labeled as love yet unenjoyable for him

- “I look into his eyes... I get all woozy. and that’s... love, isn’t it?” is another very clear nod to mic’s misconception of love based off the only thing he’s ever experienced, relationships with women he’s had to fake

- this is the part where I tell you the lyrics to toledo surprise are a metaphor for actively suppressing gay thoughts. I’ll just leave you with “if it tries to rise; don’t let it”. these lyrics are not comprehensive enough to make a dish - trust me, I have tried. it’s also notable that they serve a double entendre as instructions on how to beat the shit out of someone, but several lyrics are also directed towards the singer/audience. for example: “it’s a snap/ try it folks/ whip your whites/ split your yolks” is an easy metaphor for the unhealthy mental gymnastics required to repress oneself so wholeheartedly

it’s also worth noting the obvious just for the sake of it - mic copes with all this by isolating himself in a safe spot where he can use musicals to escape and live his ideal fantasy, even if it’s only for a short time. there are plenty of nods to this throughout the drowsy chaperone as well. in “as we stumble along” drowsy notes that “the best that we can do is hope a bluebird/ will sing a song/ as we stumble along” - to mic, musicals are his bluebird. while mic mostly indulges in these fantasies, he knows to a certain extent the sheer amount of time he’s spending in them is unhealthy. the first line of the show is “I hate theatre” and I think that to an extent? he does. obviously mic loves theatre as a concept, that can’t be denied. what he hates is the way he’s allowed it to confine him.

with all that out of the way, let’s move on to the most important moment of the show. if you’ve ever seen the show, you’ll know exactly which scene I’m talking about immediately. I’m referring to, of course, the infamous “l-ve while you can” scene. as janet stands at the alter she asks drowsy for one final word of advice, which is partially obscured by aldolpho dropping his cane. “l-ve while you can.” it’s a simple moment, but mic reveals to us that he’s been agonizing over it for years - did drowsy say “live” or “leave”? it occurs to everyone eventually, whether a couple days after the show like with me, or years after like with bob martin’s replacement on broadway that the most likely answer is that she had said “love while you can”. it’s this moment, when you realize why mic had never seen that as an option, that the drowsy chaperone’s status as a musical within a comedy within a tragedy is solidified. mic had no love in his life - his parents hated each other and he was forcing himself into relationships in which he felt nothing. to him, living and leaving were options, but loving never was. so he locked himself away.

as the final note on the record is playing, all power in mic’s apartment shuts down and the fantasy is ruined. the superintendent arrives and further invades his space, breaking the private sanctity he had built up for so long. she fixes the power and before mic can stop it from happening, the final note of the record plays. and the super recognizes it as a musical. she makes a remark about how much her wife loves musicals and leaves, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

mic sits in silence for a while. and then he begins to sing. gradually, the cast members begin to echo their songs, dancing around him but never touching him. then drowsy appears and sings harmony to mic. and she takes his hands. the show ends with the entire cast, including mic, taking off on trix’s airplane as the curtain falls, drowsy handing mic his record as the plane takes off.

some people interpret the ending as mic committing suicide, finally deciding between live and leave. I don’t personally believe that and neither does writer and original mic bob martin, but it’s still a valid interpretation. the drowsy chaperone’s ending is ambiguous, yes, but not to that extent. no matter what you believe the ending means, it was brought on not by the interruption of the fantasy, but by whatever realization the super’s remark about her wife triggered. as I see it, there are two main options here.

option one - mic realizes he still has time to live and to love. when he was younger the prospect of living as himself was unthinkable to him, yet now he sees that while he was spending countless years alone the world grew. drowsy offers mic her hand, an invitation to finally become what he had admired in her - someone who isn’t anywhere near perfect, but is damn well trying and living life without regret. he accepts.

option two - mic realizes that while he spent years alone the world moved on without him and he’s isolated himself so much from social interaction that he’d no longer be able to make a meaningful connection with anyone outside. so he stays inside instead, never trying, always trapped between live and leave. drowsy offers mic her hand - at least he’ll have a tune to carry with him.

I really want to believe we got option one. I think option one is the intended, really, given mic ends the show with a joyful goodbye to the audience. but the way that the ending is still left open for interpretation makes it so that we can never really know - we as the audience only get to be privy to a small part of mic’s life, and we don’t get the answers we want because at the end of the day they’re irrelevant to us - all we can do is make our own choice.

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST  III

Needless to say, Dutch is Interested. After the initial shock and suspicion subsides he hounds you with questions, all while marching you over to his tent, motioning two men over with a swift motion. Arthur and Hosea, the same men he had been talking with earlier on. You stand awkwardly between the three, fidgety under their gaze. Hosea seems the most agreeable of them while Arthur is wary of you, if first introductions are to go by, but Dutch doesn't waste another minute with the pleasantries. “Miss DuBois, if you please.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat, eyes flicking between them. You suddenly feel small , but you try to hide it as best you can. “His name is Jebediah Kramer. He’s a gambling man from Saint Denis who, I happen to know, has just come into a large sum of money.” “Just how much money are we talkin’ here? And how do you know about it?” Arthur speaks up, eyeing you suspiciously. He looks intimidating, all broad shoulders and piercing eyes. If it were under different circumstances you might have enjoyed the sight. You give him a tight-lipped smile instead. ”At least a couple thousand, and I know ‘cause the no good, pompous, cheating son-of-a-bitch took it from my brother in a rigged poker game!” The three fall silent. Dutch has his hands on his hips. Hosea crosses his arms with a slow nod. Arthur just watches you with suspicious eyes. “So that’s why you’re more than happy to let us rob him blind!” Arthur breaks the silence, throwing his hands up in the air. “You just need someone to do your dirty work, huh?” He turns to Dutch, a scowl on his face. “I bet it aint even that much money, it’s not worth the risk Dutch! Not with all the heat we already have!” “Easy, Arthur,” Dutch waves his hand dismissively, “any lead is welcome, you know that—” You’re surprised by his support, but none-the-less pleased. “—But I admit, I am curious why you would let us ride away with your brothers wrongfully taken money. Care to enlighten us further?” Now, not so much. “Well, the money wasn’t my brothers to gamble with,” you sigh, fidgeting, “he took it on loan, and was supposed to pay it back, but obviously he couldn't with it all gone. Jebediah, ever the kindhearted rich man,” you sneer, “offered to pay off the debt and give a little more besides for a trade,” your voice tapers off into a murmur at the end, your teeth nipping the inside of your cheek, anger bubbling in your stomach. “Well?” Dutch probes, impatient, “what trade ?” “For my hand in marriage!” You hiss low, stomping on the mound of dirt you hadn’t realized you were shoveling with your foot. “And the damned idiot said yes ! Like I’m some pet o-or a piece of furniture that don’t have feelings or a mind of her own!” Flustered, you take in a deep breath in order to try and calm yourself, crossing your arms tightly across your chest. “So yes , it’s a little bit of dirty work on my behalf, but the way I see it you’re the ones who get the better end of the deal. And you can keep anything else you find too, I don’t care. It ain’t mine after all,” you shrug, cold and distant. It’s a little sobering for the men before you but you don’t care. Jebediah is a rich man who doesn’t give two hoots about anyone or anything but himself; he deserves far worse than this, but at least your brother will have learned a harsh lesson and you won’t have to marry that fool Kramer. He’ll be too busy nursing his ruined ego to focus on you, after all. You hope. “Well,” Dutch drawls, breaking the stalemate, “ain’t that something. What do you say, gentlemen?” He asks Hosea and Arthur, both of whom have stayed quiet after your little outburst. “I doubt Miss DuBois would be so, well, so animated over nothing,” Hosea states, “I say we take a look into this Mr Kramer.” He offers you a small smile and a dip of his head, which you return. “And you, Arthur?” Arthur grumbles, shuffling from one foot to another before he shakes his head. He takes out a cigarette, holding it between his lips before looking you dead in the eyes. “Better not be setting us up like fools, Miss,” he growls, striking a match. Through the smoke he looks like one of those mountain men you’ve read about in your books, all rugged and rough. Now you can see why they sell so well among the ladies in the gentry. Dutch nods, a hand coming to your shoulder in a reassuring pat. “Well then Miss DuBois, I think the matter is settled! Now, all we need is a plan .” Reconnaissance — the first phase of Dutch’s plan. A trip to Saint Denis was in order, he explained, to return the stolen bride-to-be and in the process integrate themselves into the business of Jebediah Kramer directly. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, you told yourself, but humored Dutch with a smile and a nod anyway. “We should have taken the train! ” You huff, shifting in the saddle to try and get the blood flowing to your legs. You’ve been riding for a while now and while you’re grateful not to be walking all the way to Saint Denis, you would have preferred your own mount instead of sharing one. Especially with a certain ill-tempered cowboy. “Quit your whining, we’ll make camp as soon as we get to open ground,” Arthur grumbles, growling in frustration when he, too, has to readjust to get comfortable. The large stallion he rides, a hulking Ardennes, snorts in complaint at the unruly riders. You shush him gently, smoothing your fingers out along his neck. “Only if you mean it this time,” you counter sourly. Arthur just chuckles, recalling how you fell for the lie twice before you called his bluff. He does mean it this time though and it’s not long before Arthur picks out a suitable spot to set up camp. It’s just enough for two weary travelers on the road. Two small tents, two bedrolls, and a small fire. You sip at a strange concoction that Hosea gave you, made out of American Ginseng, which he said would help boost you up a bit after your ordeal. It tastes funny, but you do feel better. Arthur is smoking, eyes on the rabbit that he’s cooking. You’re curious of him, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man that enjoys being quizzed and questioned. You decide to do it anyway. “So...” You start, trying to make small talk to fill the deafening silence. Arthur flicks his gaze briefly to you, but it’s soon back on the rabbit. “So?” He repeats when you remain quiet, raising an eyebrow. “So, what’s it like being an outlaw ?” Not the most original question in the world and you know it. You cringe inside and you can see the tension in Arthur's expression. He’s probably been asked that before, plenty of times, by all sorts of people and you feel stupid. He scoffs and shakes his head, distracting himself with the now cooked rabbit. You awkwardly decline his offer for some. You’re too busy hoping a hole would open up and swallow you whole “Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly, “that was, God, that was awful!” Arthur snickers, making you smile. “Well I wasn’t gonna say anything, but now that you mention it,” he teases, the awkward tension leaving your shoulders as you laugh. It didn’t sit right with him, how uptight you were. Especially since he knew it was because of how standoffish he’d been with you in camp. The stress of everything with the law, that mess in Blackwater, and Dutch acting strange was weighing heavily on him but that didn’t give him the right to be mean to you. He could have been civil about it. Hosea always taught him to be, even when disagreeing, not that Dutch ever minded him being more of a brute. And a brute he had been. Until he saw that look in your eye, that is. Like a puppy who was kicked for being a little too excited, a little too much for those around it. With a sigh, he gives you the once over before sitting up straighter. The cooked rabbit meat is stowed away for later, when you’re both on the move again. “You really wanna know what it’s like to be an outlaw?” He asks and you visibly perk up, surprised that he’s answering your question. “Are you really gonna tell me?” You counter, narrowing your eyes. You’re suspicious, but the smile creeping onto your lips betrays your excitement. Arthur finds he quite likes this side to you; maybe you are more suited for this life than he gave you credit for. “Well, it ain’t fun,” he breaths, “I mean, you’re practically living it already. You’ve been kidnapped, starved, hustled into some fools errand by a gang of misfits, and now you’re planning to rob some rich fool blind and get out alive to spend the money!" He chuckles. “All we gotta do is get you in a gun fight and girl you’ll be the real deal,” he adds, smirking. You’re quiet for a moment, studying him, before you break down into laughter as Arthur watches you in amusement, illuminated by the firelight. “You really think so?” You laugh, shaking your head, “I don’t even know how to use a gun!” “Then I’ll teach you,” Arthur says after a moment of contemplation, “you’ll need it if you’re gonna run with us.” The resoluteness of his tone stifles your laughter and you once again look at him with those wide eyes, barely contained excitement brimming within. “You will?” Suspicion radiates from you again but he waves it off dismissively. “Yeah, you’ll need to know just in case things go wrong,” he explains, “but c’mon now, it’s getting late. We should get some sleep while we can.” Stifling a yawn, you nod. Arthur will have you up with the dawn chorus so that you can make good time so you need all the rest you can get. Burrowing down into the blanket on your bedroll you sigh contently, peeking up at the stars as the fire becomes glowing embers. The stillness of the night surrounds you, coaxing you into a restful sleep as twinklings lights above fade to black. Arthur listens as your breathing evens out, steady and constant in your slumber. He stares up at the stars, ruminating on just how it came to be that you were there, with him, about to pull off something daring and downright foolish with the possibility of no pay off. Before he left with you Hosea had told him to have faith in you and your knowledge, but could he really be so quick to trust? Turning onto his side, Arthur watches you with interest. You’re curled up like one of those pretty cats in a basket, soft fur and sweet purrs. Long lashes kissing the tops of rosy cheeks. You’re an honest girl, he’s sure, but the more he watches your peaceful, sleeping face, the more he’s concerned that you’re in over your head, and that just doesn’t sit right with him.