#I mean with the amount of scandals happening at that house it’s no wonder they’re curious

[mossy-enigma]

Birdwatching

This was a birthday gift I made for my gf! We have shared ocs and these are her favorite ship, their names are Lola and Marcus (ship name Sweethearts) If you look closely, there’s a red finch and a blue bird of happiness in a nest together, they represent her second favorite ship: Bluescarves. (The red one is Darren and the blue one is Jeremy.)

Close ups:

[gojology]

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (1/2)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | i’m REPOSTING this because my already bruised ego absolutely rejects the fact that my writing got 33 notes, that, and i just don’t want to continue this if it doesn’t get any traction. i’m not good at nsfw, so i feel like if not a lotta people wanna read my work, why try hard on something i’m bad at? anyways, this whole club concept is totally from @/mystic-sky or skyfelt on ao3. pls check her out. if anything is inaccurate its prob bcuz the only reference i have is the club penguin dance club teehee. 

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | mentions of sex, drinking, you’re literally at a club.

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2847

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | You’re alone, at a bar, waiting for the end of the night to come. Then again this was bound to happen, as clubs weren’t really your thing, but promises of snacks and money from your friends were really what you came for. A mysterious, yet intriguing white haired man approaches you, and eventually he piques your interest. Little do you know, you had piqued his as well, and he’s having a hard time trying to hide it.

Bright, flickering vivid lights was all the human eye could see from where you were sitting.  You’re sitting at a bar, legs restless and rhythmically bumping against the table. You had come here for a “fun night”, even though they promptly ditched you for the lively dance floor afterwards, you assumed to pick up guys and have some encounters in the bedroom.  It wasn’t quite your thing though, well, you didn’t know yourself, you were far too shy to find out, though.  That’s how you found yourself alone, at a bar, completely sober.   Your friends pushed you, (which was a bit weird since they were no where near you now- so really now, what was the point?) luring you with yummy snacks and treats to come out of your house for once. Hesitantly agreeing, you didn’t expect to have them dress you up as well.   Fighting them off and running for the bedroom door, you hated the very idea of even interacting with anyone. Moaning and groaning like a child that you weren’t getting enough for going to a social event, and not wearing your beloved baggy hoodies and sweatpants.   “Okay, okay!” your friend stood up, hands above her. Shaking her head and letting out an exasperated sigh.   “We’ll add on a free dinner- on us.”   Raising an eyebrow, you scrolled through your phone. This wasn’t a bad deal, not at all. You decided to not reply, though.   “Ugh, (Y/N), Okay. A 50 DOLLAR GIFTCARD TO YOUR FAVORITE STORE. Do we have a deal?” Your friend blurted out, sitting down on her chair with a huff.   The girl clearly wanted you to go to the club.  You grinned evilly, realizing just how much you can get.   Of course, you wouldn’t spend the money without spoiling some of your girlies, but you had gotten even more then you asked for, and well- sure it was a bit mean, but you figured afterwards you could go out with them without the bargaining.   And so, facepalm after facepalm ensued, offering you more and more unnecessary amounts of money and food, you finally broke under the pressure of being a tad too mean. You weren’t planning on torturing your friends for life.   At that point, who could really resist?   Now, enthusiastic with your eyes only on the prize, you allowed yourself to be dressed up just this once. Your friends had whipped up the nicest outfit they could without it showing very much skin (per your request!).   Your friends had let you borrow a rather short white plaid skirt they had paired with a casual simple t-shirt. Slightly sheer, and a warm, yet soft cardigan that was kind of scratchy. Donning a pair of tights that you had picked yourself and your favorite pair of beaten up Doc Martens. You realize that it didn’t look half-bad on you.  For once, you thought you looked nice.   However, it seemed to pale in comparison with the scandalous outfits your friends seemed to prefer. Dresses hugging their curves, showing as much of their skin as possible without being full-blown naked, you wonder how one can hold so much self-confidence. But you ignore the feeling, repeating to yourself that you looked good in your own ways.  You wave for the bar tender, feeling a rush of self confidence as you glance down at your outfit. The rather disgruntled man eyes perked up at the request, rushing over.  “May I offer you something, ma’am?”  You gulp, the self confidence rapidly crashing back down, almost as soon as it had come up. You weren’t quite the drinker, and you weren’t looking to find if you were. Running a hand through your already tousled hair, you stutter out a short sentence.  “Can I have some.. Water? With, uh, ice.”  He nods, seemingly shocked that you weren’t ordering any alcoholic beverages before turning his back on you and quickly whipping up the rather simplistic drink. Well, then again, judging by the outfit, one glance would be enough to tell him that you were forced to come, or shy.    Shocked by how comprehensible you had been when speaking to him, your lips curve slightly into a warm smile. Working around your fear of talking to people in unusual places was good.   Handing the glass of water to you with cold fingertips, you nod back. Skimming his hand as you did so. You grimace, contact felt weird.   Taking a sip, you looked away and hoped not to make conversation.  You heard a rather loud laugh, which was an understatement, because you could hear it even through the mass of chatter and movement of the club.  Curious by who could possibly be louder than the sheer deafening cheers of a drunken crowd, you look towards the other direction, before setting your eyes on a ridiculously white haired man.  He was laughing again now, and your eyes immediately drift over to his very defined jawline. No wonder so many girls were around him, by the looks of it, he looked like a famous model.  His head high above all the females crowding around him, you notice the man next to him. A disgruntled, yet polite looking individual you assumed to be his friend sat next to him.   He was also towering over the women, nodding and smiling at the many girls tempting him with their bodies, but he seemed so clueless that you doubted he even had a clue of what was going on.   Fidgeting and playing with his hair, he was clad in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. The crowd of women around him wasn’t as large as the white haired man, you noted, but still large nonetheless.  “Oh, him?” the bartender blurted, you turn to face him again, cursing yourself for being so obvious in your endeavors.  Wiping a cocktail shaker down with a towel, he ducks his head, studying the remaining water droplets. You stare daggers at the bartender for interrupting your train of thought, before cursing yourself for being so mean.  “He’s a regular, gets drunk quite frequently, and he’s Prince Charming to the ladies.”  Rubbing the back of your head, you stare back at the bartender. Unsure what to make of his approach on conversation.  Reconsidering like the good person you are, you thought about how annoyed the guy got talking to a bunch of drunk college kids. He seemed like he had good intentions, and talking to someone that was sober was sure to be refreshing.  “Yeah, I can tell, the guy has a lot of girls around him. He looks really... Lively. To put it simply.”  The bartender laughed, relaxing himself as soon as he heard the friendly words leave your lips. He finished wiping down the cocktail shaker and proceeded to the neatly stacked cups which had just been washed.  “No, the guy’s just friendly. Real hit with the ladies, especially his.. Uh, physical attributes. See his friend over there? Lil bit more modest, he started coming here recently. Don’t let that good natured face fool you though, they’re both the same..”  You rolled your eyes, Typical. Taking the last few gulps of your water before you slammed it back down. The bartender took the cup, refilling it hastily and giving it back to you.  You heard several girls giggling, and you glanced back in the direction of the men. The long, raven haired man had his arms wrapped around dozen or more girls, swarming him as if he was a celebrity.  The bartender was right, he looked so bored when you had studied the two, but here he was now with the same army of girls heeding his every call.  That left the white haired man alone.  Shaking his head with a small chortle, he took another swig out of his drink before looking down at the empty glass, he stood up, and by God were those legs long, before walking to the empty stool next to you.  “Yo. Bartender. Refill?”  The bartender set down the cup he was scrubbing down, rummaging his hands through various shelfs, filled with various drinks and add-ons, before taking the mysterious man’s glass.  Curious, you take a small peek at the man, almost jumping back when he was staring unflinching at you, too. Taking this as an invitation to gape at such an incredibly well-fit body. Your eyes stare up at what you could; starting with his collarbones.  Paired deliciously with a simple gold chain, you had to admit, it was a good touch. The simplicity of the chain was enough for you to gape dumbly at anything else that was interesting, and was left dumbfounded by the sheer hotness of... Well, him, and those incredibly prominent collarbones.  You look downwards, and he’s wearing a black, simple t-shirt. Not a wrinkle, nor specks of lint in sight.  Well toned arms, and incredibly strong looking ones at that rested idly against his sides. An expensive watch glinted in the light.  He hadn’t quite said anything yet, so you look down even more without hesitation. Almost like you couldn’t control yourself.   Tucking his shirt in neatly was his belt, you could easily tell it was a high-end brand. Casual, wide flared black jeans, the guy really loved black you noted. The accessories made up for it though, various chains were lazily thrown in, and it made the outfit so much more hotter, especially on him.  “My eyes are up here, girly.”  Feeling your cheeks become full to the brim with warmth, your hands fumble about, words formulating at the tip of your tongue to apologize profusely, you look up.  Circular black shades concealed the white haired man’s eyes, and your heart pounds more. Something about him was so intriguing.  About to blurt out nonsense about actually being very interested at a wall, he held his palm up, a large toothy grin gracing his features.  “It’s okay, I’m into hot chicks ogling me. Especially hot chicks with cute outfits.”  Everything on your mind was suddenly wiped clean, you open your mouth before closing, unsure about what to say.  He thought you were hot?   He thought your outfit was cute?  He laughs, and you snap out of your daze. Muttering a quick thanks when the bartender handed his rather sugary exotic drink to him.  “Saw you looking at me earlier, sweetcheeks.” he hums before tipping the glassware near his glossy lips, sipping the drink, looking down at you as he did.  “No, I think you saw wrong... Are you blind?” you asked, still recovering from the compliments you hadn’t ever received in your life prior to this strange encounter. Desperate to get out of the advancingly awkward conversation, you had never been placed in such a weird setting.  He snorts, taking another deep sip of his drink.  “Nah. People think that, though. People think I’m... Old, for some reason?”  “Hm, I wonder why.” replying sarcastically, you felt yourself jolt up, a mix of uneasiness and excitement bubbling up inside of you. By your experience and tips from your friends, these type of guys seemed to like sassy, teasing girls.  Whipping out your phone from your bag, you try to appear casual, even though your excitement was starting to die down by his silence, turning into dread.  Whistling, trying to look like you didn’t have a care in the world, you physically wince as you realize how stupid you potentially look. Wondering what your friends would say about such an attractive guy seemingly hitting on you, then again, they didn’t seem to really care.  No new notifications, and no familiar faces running up to you with open, friendly arms.  He chuckles again. “I like your style, missy. You come here alone? That’s a shame, pretty girls like you deserve to have someone to come with.”  You look down, struggling to contain the growing smile. Doing a small little victory dance in your head as you realize that he had literally stated that he liked your style.   “I did come with someone, my friends.”  “Where’s your friends?” he inquired.  “Partying at the dance floor, flirting with guys probably.” you nonchalantly reply, struggling to hold your tone, but even then it wavered. You didn’t get hit on often, and when you did they were there to help you.  “That makes two of us, my friend Geto pulled all my chicks, and my pussy for tonight.”  He said it so nonchalantly, you almost spat out your water.  “What are you here for? Some good dick?” he shifted his arm to rest against the table, his hand against his head, lazily looking at you.  You study his figure once more, ignoring his previous question. He looked like he came straight out of a magazine, or a movie. Broad, yet strong looking shoulders.  He looked straight up fake.  He towered over you, and you estimated that he was over 6 foot. His hair seemed soft, and manageable, and so, so fun to play with. A Deep, yet playful voice that would probably make everyone within a 6 mile radius instantly melt.  “Hm, cute. I like straight-forward girls.” he poked fun at you, grinning carelessly.  “I’m not being straightforward in any shape or form, what do you mean?” you flutter your eyelashes innocently at him, knowing damn well what he meant.  “You’re fucking studying me like a textbook before finals.”  “You still haven’t told me your name!” you shot back without thinking, you didn’t want to be caught doing something so scandalous. He winked, you took this as a sign of him following suit.  “That’s what makes it fun, baby.”  “Here, lets trade.”   You had decided that you really liked his style, after letting you off the hook so easily like that. He was shrouded in a cloak of mystery, and you found it hot. That, or maybe he wanted to just fuck around and have one night-stands, which wasn’t your style at all, but you still wanted to see where this would go.  “Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine. Fair right?”  He stroked his chin with his unoccupied arm, contorting his face and making you giggle a little, even though it wasn’t very funny. With him, you felt like you could strangely be yourself.  “Hmmmmm....” stroking his chin more, he began to pick up and sip his beverage as if it was a tea cup, holding opposite ends of each other and deeply drinking. He set the cup down.  “Nope.”  Exasperated, you slam your cup down.  “That aside, let’s get back to the point!,” he leaned closer into you, smiling a little as you jumped back. Your confidence when you talked with him had dissolved into thin air.  “You’re really cute.”  Frozen in place, you gawk back at him.    He was straightforward, no doubt it, but you didn’t think he was this straightforward. Most men you knew played a game of cat and mouse, only if you caught them you were rewarded.  Opening and closing your mouth, no sound came out. He snorts, taking another sip and waving the bartender to come back, who was now washing cups awkwardly on the other side of the bar.   You almost pitied the bartender, the guy had ordered so many refills at this point, you wouldn’t be dumb to assume he was either a raging alcoholic or another dumb college kid.  “Refill, again.”   The bartender nodded solemnly in reply, swiftly taking the cup. You realize how overworked the poor guy was, wondering how many refills the mysterious white haired man had gotten before you had even step foot in the vicinity.  “I’d love to take you to the bedroom, baby.” he nods as the bartender returns, sipping and looking back down at you.   You bolted upwards, cursing as you realize you’re slouching, not very attractive. The straightforwardness from him was, though. No doubt it, but you were really not looking to break your heart over a fuckboy.  “Uh, um.”  He tips your chin upward, and your heart leaps out of your throat. There was something so undeniably attractive about this act, maybe it was the way he knew how to make you into pudding, or maybe it was the aura of dominance.   Haughtiness literally radiated off of him, as if he knew he could pull a girl in under 1 minute. Well, then again, he probably did know.  Fuck, what were you thinking, this was a complete stranger that could probably pull chicks more attractive then you, times 100.  “Aw, shy? Cute. Don’t worry, you’re intriguing, and if you’re bad at sex, not to worry. I’ll do it all, and I’m good. Maybe give you a few lessons here and there.” he chirped, tilting his head, curiosity evident.   “But, it’s all up to you, sugar. I’m not trying to force you into this.” the man added.   He did seem hot, and this was really a one-in-a-million chance. No one had really looked at you that way at the level of attractiveness that he had. You didn’t want to regret anything, and getting out of your shell was good right?   What could go wrong?   “...I wouldn’t mind.”   A crooked smirk spread across his face.   “I’ll call an Uber.”

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Eleven

Link to Masterpost

Kind of filler-y, I guess, but we’re almost to some juicier chapters! Enjoy!

Today’s prompts:

Aelin stealing clothes from Rowan’s laundry

Rowan being scandalized by Aelin’s laundry- this one was actually a DM from @queen-of-glass, rather than an ask! I BET YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS, DIDN’T YOU. WELL, I DIDN’T BECAUSE IT’S GOLD.

and

“It’s not mine, I swear!” / “How is it not yours?”

~*~*~

Aelin slipped down the stairs in sock-clad feet, basket of dirty laundry perched on her hip as the clothes dryer beeped. In the two weeks that had passed since Rowan’s nightmare, she had taken it upon herself to take over laundry for the both of them. It was the least she could do, as she had been summarily banned from the kitchen altogether after that incident.

Rowan had fussed at her a little when she’d first done it, insisting that he could take care of himself, but he’d eventually caved. She wasn’t sure how much of it was due to the lingering awkwardness of that one night she’d inadvertently spent in his bed, but if that’s what it took then she supposed at least one good thing had come out of it.

She genuinely hadn’t intended to fall asleep, only to stay long enough to make sure he had fallen asleep. But instead, she had awakened at the sound of his door quietly closing, wrapped around his pillow as though it were a lover. She had lingered there until she was positive he had left for the day before flying out of his bed and rushing to the safety of her own room.

Aelin sighed and shook her head before opening the door of the dryer, pulling all of the newly-dried clothing into a separate basket for clean clothes. Moving quickly so that she could fold the clothes while they were still warm and relatively free of wrinkles, she dumped the newly-washed clothes into the dryer and started it, then loaded her next load of laundry into the washing machine before moving away to the couch with the clean clothes.

She had soft music playing in the background, but even without that she would’ve found the repetitive motions soothing as she folded the shirts, smoothing the wrinkles out of each one before moving to the next. Before she knew it, she was left with two neat piles of clothing—one for herself, and one for Rowan. Perfect. She had time to sneak into the kitchen and see what she could swipe for a snack before the next round.

At least, it was perfect until she spilled the milk intended for her cookies down the front of her shirt instead.

“Shit,” she hissed, both at the embarrassment and at the cold wet sensation. At least Rowan hadn’t been here to see it; he would’ve mocked her endlessly for it. Not to mention, it would’ve been far more awkward to simply strip her shirt off had her roommate been around to see her parading about topless through the house.

Since she was already doing laundry, it was a simple task to toss the soiled shirt into the next pile. However, she would also need to find something else to wear, before Rowan got back in an hour.

A simple grey undershirt sat at the top of Rowan’s neatly-folded pile of laundry. She knew it would still be warm, and the material was impossibly soft. It was plain, with no designs, so it wouldn’t be immediately obvious that she had taken it from him. She could venture up to her room and grab one of her own shirts of course, but with such a tempting option right there…

What Rowan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The shirt was exactly as soft as she’d known it would be, gently caressing her bare skin as she slid it over her head. It was perfect, really; she hadn’t intended to go put on a bra, and to know she wouldn’t need to in order to be comfortable was a relief. The hem fell to her mid-thigh, the garment almost comically large on her smaller frame, but that was okay. Shirts worn with leggings were supposed to be large enough and long enough to cover all the important places, anyway.

Carefully, she picked up the remainder of his pile of clothes and slipped into his room to set them at the foot of his bed alongside her previous rounds. Mission completed, she glanced at the pillows and bit her lip as her cheeks grew warm. What should have been an innocuous display of an immaculately-made bed was still bringing back memories of soft sheets and pine-scented pillows and fingers carefully entwined with her own.

She shook her head and left, and it took a surprising amount of effort not to slam the door behind her as she fled the scene.

Gods, whatever this was, she had it bad. She could practically hear Sam and Lysandra both laughing at her and telling her she needed to get laid. Maybe they were right; she hadn’t been with anyone since escaping Rifthold, and maybe this was just a symptom of how long it had been.

The front door opened before she could think about it any further, and she darted back down the stairs to gather her own laundry and greet her roommate.

His eyes immediately focused on her as she rounded the corner, before narrowing. “That’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

Damn. How on earth had he figured it out so quickly? “Why would you think that? Oversized shirts are normal to wear with leggings.”

Rowan smirked. “That might’ve worked if I hadn’t seen what you normally wear for ‘leggings as pants’ days.”

Shit. Well, it had been worth trying. “So familiar with my wardrobe,” she purred instead. “Someone might wonder how you know what clothing I have so… intimately.”

Damn, he didn’t even blush at the suggestion. “Aelin, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that we live together and therefore I’m pretty sure I’ve seen most of what you consider to be casual loungewear.”

Fine. “Just for that, I’m keeping it!”

He called after her as she headed up the stairs with her own laundry. “Don’t think I don’t know you still haven’t given me back those pajama pants, either! What could you possibly be hoarding my clothes for? They don’t even fit you.”

Shit. Better to pretend she hadn’t heard that, since she hadn’t even begun to prepare an answer for why she hadn’t given those back yet. Instead, she quietly retreated into her room, putting her clothes away before grabbing a book and sprawling onto her bed.

She wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed, but before long there was a soft knocking at her door. “I’d ask if you’re decent, but I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.”

Aelin laughed and opened the door. “Never am. What’s up?”

A scrap of lace Aelin barely recognized as a crop top was dangling from the tips of Rowan’s fingers as though the material would burn him if any more of him came into contact with it. How had…? “That’s not mine, I swear,” she finally said.

“This ought to be good. Fine. How is it not yours?”

“It’s Lysandra’s,” Aelin admitted. “She encouraged me to borrow it, the last time we went out.”

Rowan snorted out a laugh. “So it’s not just me you’re hoarding clothes from.”

Aelin snatched the top out of his loose grip. “We’re not talking about this. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” The tips of his ears went pink as he pulled out underwear that was definitely Aelin’s. “I’m presuming you didn’t steal these away from an unwitting friend.”

“Um. No.”

“They don’t have a back. Why do they not have a back?”

Aelin took the underwear back, carefully detangling the series of straps that made up the backside. “Rowan. You were married. To a woman.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“It means I’m assuming you’ve seen women’s underwear before.”

“Nothing like that.”

“Hm, that’s a shame. They’re fun.” She smirked as she set them aside on her desk to put away later. “Maybe someday you’ll find someone willing to show you.”

“Are you assuming I’ve been celibate this whole time?”

Aelin turned to rearrange one of her drawers, hoping the motion hid the flush of her cheeks and the sudden trembling of her fingers. “I’m not assuming anything,” she lied. “Well, except that no one’s worn anything like that for you, since you seem so confused.”

“Hm.”

Gods, could they talk about literally anything else? This wasn’t a conversation she was ready to have. “Now. Is there anything else from your laundry that may or may not actually be mine?”

He shook his head, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. “Not this time.”

“Okay, good. You’re welcome, then.”

He frowned. “Welcome? For what?”

Aelin grinned. “For the free entertainment.”

As she had known would happen, he grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear and left. Once the door closed behind him, she flopped back onto her bed and groaned into a pillow.

Gods, the sight of him delicately handling her underthings was one she had not at all been prepared for, and even the memory of it was still doing things to her. Not to mention his voice; it was as though his deep and lilting accent had been made to talk about sex, and it had wrapped around her like his shirt had earlier.

Are you assuming I’ve been celibate this whole time?

Gods help her, she had been assuming exactly that, if only to preserve her own sanity. She had been carefully not thinking about Rowan and sex in the same sentence for so long, and now that he had absolutely shattered that with a single question she wasn’t sure what to do.

There likely wasn’t much of anything she could do. He’d made it so clear that he saw her as simply a roommate—one to which he had warmed up, if only begrudgingly, but barely a friend and certainly not a…

What did she even hope this would be, anyway?

Aelin sighed and shook her head. It was pointless to think about, and nearly impossible to believe. She needed to get this out of her head before she did something stupid like crawl into his bed again and never leave.

Decision made, she reached for her phone and sent a text to Lysandra. You were right.

Her friend’s reply was almost immediate. I’m always right. What am I right about now, exactly?

Maybe it’s time for me to try to put myself out there again.

That’s my girl. Got any ideas, or are Sam and I supposed to set you up?

Aelin snorted. You’re impossible. I don’t know yet.

Well, figure it out. I’ve gotta know how I’m supporting you here.

I don’t want to be all the way set up, but I guess I’m open to suggestions?

I GOT U BB. <3

Aelin smiled and tucked her phone away before swearing and snatching at it as her pretimed alarm went off. Laundry day waited for no roommate crisis, it seemed.

She supposed she should probably feel a bit lighter as she darted back down the stairs for the next round of laundry. Instead, though, she only felt nerves. Maybe she had been out of the game too long after all, and this change would only do her good.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp @sleeping-and-books @acciowests @stardelia

[t-lostinworlds]

The Choices We Make (Tom Holland) [2]

A/N: First off, i would like to say thank you so much for all the love and support on part 1, it truly means the world to me <3 second, i am so sorry for the long wait but here we are! thank you for your patience you kind angels! Hope you guys like this as much as the first aha! x

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom realises what you two had and everything that he wasted. He realises he needed to fight for you and that he can’t lose you for good. But will he be able to make things right and have you back in his arms again or will it be too late?

Warnings: heart wrenching angst, a lot of crying from both persons, a bit of fluff but it’s flashbacks and typos?

Word Count: 14.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

NOTE: Flashbacks are in Italics

-:-:-:-:-

Where does Tom start?

Well, he can start with the fact that he's miserable. The fact that he's a disgusting piece of shit who deserves nothing but to be miserable, no less, maybe more.

You were so good to him, too good. You treated him more than he deserved. Even after what he did, even after he betrayed you, never did you treat him any less of man when in fact, he deserves to be treated like shit.

With a heart as kind as yours, when you showed him nothing but pure love, how could he have done what he did? A question so heavy as Tom asks himself as to why, but only ends up empty, it only ends up unanswered.

This makes him feel even more stupid. A downright disgrace given that he's ruined something so precious and special all for nothing, not even for something remotely worth it.

He could say he did it for sex, which is really rotten no matter the circumstance, doesn't make things better even by the littlest bit. But even then, it still wasn't worth it. He threw away so much just for sex? What a shallow reason to destroy such a beautiful relationship isn't it?

Quite frankly, nothing he will ever say will make things better. Not a single reason would justify the way he broke such a kind heart that gave him nothing but blissful happiness, gave him the truest forms of love.

The damage has already been done, he's already destroyed everything, hearts and trusts turned to nothing but fractured pieces.

Just how could he? How could he have done that to you?

You didn't deserve any of it.

All the times he's ignored you, made you feel unwanted. The countless times he's pushed you away and hurt you with his angry words. Hell, just the fact that he's made you feel like you weren't enough was a crime in itself.

Tom has been with you for three years, three fucking years, and during that time you had always been enough, more than enough. But that's the thing, realization and regret always comes last, always comes when it's too late.

You only realize just how much something is worth until you lose it.

It's been hours since you left, and Tom feels so utterly lost.

You we're his true north and now that you're gone, he was lost. Lost on where he'll go from here, lost on what to do, lost on who he's become.

A part of him knew he should've chased after you, but then what? He doesn't know what more he could say. He was still in deep doubt if he was fixing things or breaking it further if he continued to run his mouth. He at least needs to get his mind straight, get himself together or he'll say something that will make things even worse than it already is.

Tom sulked in bed right after everything, right after he heard that front door shut. He let himself drown in his tears and his regretful thoughts, both overwhelming him to the point that he passed out without even realizing.

Now, here he was, fully awake but still in bed. The sun was on its highest but Tom had no clue what time it was. With a broken phone, there was no way of telling unless he moves to grab a watch. But he doesn't really feel like moving. He just wants to rot in bed — or in hell as he rightfully deserves — and do absolutely nothing.

The whole house was eerily quiet and very cold, and he doesn't want to explore its state when he knows how it was coated with so much warmth before, your warmth. Was this how it felt for you when he doesn't come home? If so, then Tom feels even more of a shitty person than he already is.

But the world won't stop its course just to wait for him now won't it? So despite it all, Tom willed himself to get up and out of bed with a heavy heart, pushed himself to at least do the next right thing, whatever it may be.

Feet dragging against the tiled floor, Tom reached the living room with a broken sigh. His bloodshot eyes landed on the number of frames on top of the fireplace, photos upon photos of you and him, his frown deepening as the pain squeezed at his heart.

He walked over and took one in his hand, the one where Tom had an arm wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, eyes crinkling at the corners as both of you smiled wide and bright, the calming view of the Grand Canal just behind you as you explore the wondrous city of Venice.

The photo was taken by Harry during the shooting of Spider-Man: Far From Home, where you traveled with him and supported him from the first day to the very last.

It was such an innocent picture, mundane even, but so many memories came flooding inside Tom's mind with one simple look. And slowly but surely he was reminded how it used to be, how happy you both were just being together. Tom was reminded how special, how real it was, what you two had.

It doesn't even end with just the pictures, the whole house was a constant reminder too all the things he's wasted, all the beautiful things that made him feel nothing but pride and joy, utter euphoria to have such a wonderful woman in his life.

The whole house that was littered with all things you, from every room to every hall, from your precious laughter to the gorgeous sounds of pleasure that once bounced off the very same walls. Tom can still hear it, replaying inside his head loud and taunting to not let him forget each blissful memory that composed of you and him.

But now it's tainted by his blatant mistake, spoiled by his scandalous choices and he will never be able to forgive himself for that.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom wiped the tears that slipped down his cheek with the back of his hand. He brought the frame up to his shirt to rid of the droplets that coated the glass, returning it back gently, carefully in sheer fear that he'll break it if he wasn't cautious enough.

Tom knows he owes you countless amounts of apologies, and at least a proper closure. He wasn't going to let last night be the end of it all, he knows he needs to talk to you. He needs to answer whatever question you have, and tell you what he truly feels. He just knows that the demons in your head are relentless. In whatever way he can, he needs to appease your mind with nothing but honesty so that it won't eat you up from the inside out.

He won't be able to live with himself even more if he just leaves you to blame yourself for his choices. And he's not going to stop until it sticks with you that this was nowhere near your fault. This was all on him, and he has to make sure you understand that loud and clear.

So right after he's bought a new phone, he drove towards the only place he knows where you'll be.

***

"Come on guys, open up," Tom tried again, knuckles rapping at the wooden door for the tenth time.

He's been outside the twins' house for roughly fifteen minutes now, and it's either no one was home or they were ignoring him. He figured it was the latter for obvious reasons, and he was proven right when he heard rushed footsteps on the other side when he gave the door another knock.

"Go away Tom, I genuinely don't want to deal with you right now," Harry fumed, boiling anger evident in his tone, a dead giveaway that he was well aware of what had happened.

Did Tom really expect his brothers to be calm about it? No, not even by a little. If he fucks up, they're the first ones to put him back in his place. And now—well, now he fucked up very badly.

Too add to that, the boys care about you a lot. It's been such a heartwarming thing for Tom to see you grow close with them, to see them accept you as part of the family. He understands why they're angry at him and they have every right to be.

"I know she's in there. Just open up, please," Tom sighed, palm flat against the surface as he waits for the lock to click open. Harry scoffed at that, voice muffled due to the door that's still in the way. "She is, but what gave you the idea that she wants to see you?"

That stung, but Tom also can't say he was surprised. Hell, he can't even look at himself without grimacing, so he wasn't expecting any less from you. He wasn't expecting things to go smoothly at all with the weight of his actions.

"Look, I get why you're mad at me. But Harry please, I just need to talk to her," he begged, but still to no avail as his brother growled in response. "What part of 'she doesn't want to see you' do you not fucking get?"

Tom was running out of patience, especially now with his emotions all over the place as with his mind. It was crowded in his head, very loud and obnoxious, just pushing and poking until he felt his anger bubble slowly. And before he could stop himself and take a deep breath to stay calm, his voice boomed,

"Just let me in damn it!" Tom's fists hit the door harshly, his emotions overpowering him to the point where he's becoming rash with his actions. He wasn't frustrated at his brother by all means, he was frustrated at himself. After all, there was no other person to blame why everything in his life has gone to absolute shit.

"Oh go and fuck off!" Harry barked, just fuming at the fact that Tom had the audacity to show his face at his house and give him attitude.

"I'm your fucking brother!" Tom knew that was a bullshit come back but he tried it anyway, he'd try anything at this point, growing desperate with each passing second.

He just really needs to see you. He needs some sense of familiarity, someone to ground him back, someone who's going to tame his mind before he losses it completely. That someone has always been you, his sense of peace, his rock.

"Ah yes! Please do remind me Tom because that's the only thing stopping me from going out there to break your fucking teeth you asshole!" It was obvious that both brothers were now feeding off of each other's emotions, voices loud as they go back and forth, and it was only a matter of time before one explodes which well then make things take an awful turn.

"Jeez Harry, calm down for a second yeah?" Sam's voice interrupted before things start to escalate further. What Tom heard next was fairly inaudible, but he can picture the twins arguing, just hearing the exchange of muffled voices. Then a few seconds later —much to his surprise — Sam opened the door.

Tom met his brother's eyes, a breath of relief coming out of him. "Thank you Sa—"

"Don't thank me, this wasn't my decision," Sam said solemnly with a stoic look on his face, a dissatisfied tone in his voice that Tom was quick to catch. "She's waiting for you in the garden," his brother added, stepping out of the way to let Tom in. He locked with Harry's angry eyes on the way, Tom's frown deepening as he tries to say something, to basically apologise for yelling when he has no right to.

"Harry I—"

"Just fucking walk," his brother sneered, tone ice cold. All Tom could do was nod as he pressed his lips into a thin line, walking pass the twins with his head hanging low in shame. Though never did he miss — nor will he forget — Harry's death glare and Sam's disappointed gaze as he made his way towards the back door.

***

The loud bang on the front door and the yelling was what you woke u—no, the fact that the loud voice belonged to Tom was what woke you up.

You don't know how long you've been asleep for, and to be honest, you could still need a bit more.

Last night was still clear as day inside your head. Everything that had happened you remembered as detailed as it can possibly get, from you reading that text message to then running out the house and calling Harry to come pick you up. You knew fully well you weren't in the right state of mind to drive, and you were glad that he didn't mind at all.

Sam came with him, both sporting their worried looks once they pulled over and saw your state. Though they didn't ask any questions once you got inside the passenger's seat, neither pushed to give you air to breath, them only knowing that Tom did something terribly wrong by the way you were crying on the phone.

The three of you just drove around the city for a while, windows down with the music blaring to try and get your mind off of it as much as they can. Both ordered pizza and opted on eating in the car that was parked near the River Thames, looking out into the gorgeous view of the Tower Bridge as it shines its lights in the night. You talked about anything and everything but the elephant in the room—well, car.

You only poured everything out to them when you got back to their house. Full on balling on the couch as you try and form a coherent sentence on what just happened. First they were surprised, unable to believe that their brother could do such a thing. Then you saw the anger cross their features little by little, more so with Harry than Sam. You've traveled with Harry quite a lot, you were a little closer with the boy due to the time spent together, but not by much of course.

They offered you the guest room right after, said that you can stay for as long as you need to. They both were real sweethearts about it, and you owe them a lot for keeping you sane for those couple of hours. You couldn't stomach to imagine what you could've done if they weren’t there.

You thought you'd just let them handle Tom, to not come out of the room until he's gone. You have no idea what more you could say or do if you see him again face to face, especially when everything that has happened was only in a span of under twenty-four hours. You were still overwhelmed, a complete mess both physically and emotionally.

But when you heard just how angry Harry was and how Tom was close to reaching there as well, you couldn't just sit still and let the problem grow even bigger. You can't let yourself be the reason that would cause a tear in their relationship with each other. Because by the end of everything, they're still brothers no matter what.

So slowly, you got out of bed, treaded into the living room where you found Sam sat on the sofa. His leg was bouncing anxiously as he listens to his brothers argue, clearly torn on what was the right thing to do. You walked up to him with a small smile, surprise crossing his features once he saw you awake.

He quickly said that he'd try and talk to Tom and make him leave, assuming that you are uncomfortable with him around but you only shook your head no. You told him it's okay to let his older brother in and that you'll just wait in the back garden for whatever it is he wanted to talk about.

Although relunctant, Sam didn't question your decision further. He just pulled you in for a warm embrace before flashing you a reassuring smile and then walking towards the front door.

Once sat on the wooden bench that was right on the back porch, you kept your gaze steady on the greenery in front of you, back facing the house as you tried to clear your head as much as you can. Basically to organized your thoughts and emotions. The cold evening breeze was helping to calm your nerves, your eyes following the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of the bushes, the hum of the wind invading your ears in the most soothing way. It was a serene sight, so comforting, and slowly you felt yourself relax.

But the moment of peace was soon cut short, your eyes screwing shut once you heard the sliding door open and then close. His footsteps were light but the sound was already deafening for you, as if the rest of the world turned mute for you can only hear his shoes hitting the pavement, just ringing in your ears as you waited in anticipation.

Tom sat down beside you with a hold of his breath, heart aching once he saw your tear-stained cheeks, once he noticed how you kept your eyes tightly closed, purely refusing to look at him for even a split second.

His fingers started to fidget as nerves started to consume him. The action was also in a way to stop himself from reaching over to take your hand, to just feel your skin on his, because oh how much he's miss it, how much he's miss you.

He wasted a month of not holding you, of not getting to truly touch you, and he so badly wanted to pull you closer to him now, to make up with the time lost. But Tom wasn't going to push his luck, not going to over step boundaries because he wasn't in the place to make such decisions, not anymore. He knows that there were so little of both left that if he gets too near, he might end up pushing you farther away. He wasn't going to risk it.

On the way here, he's thought about all the things he was going to say to you. He repeated his speech over and over inside his head even though his words were a jumbled mess. It was something at least, a start. But now that he was seating here with you just a couple inches away, Tom's mind has gone blank. With the hundreds of words he's planned on saying, his lips could only let go of one.

"Y/N..."

You could pinpoint so many things with just the simple call of your name. The guilt, the longing, the regret, even the adoration, it was all there. Having known him for a while, you have gotten good at reading him, even if it's only from his voice, from the highs and lows to the different tones. But that was before, now, you weren't so sure if you actually ever knew him at all.

"What are you doing here Tom?" you asked softly, eyes opening with a sigh but still avoiding his at all costs. Tom ran an anxious hand through his hair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he kept his gaze trained on your beautiful face, smile gone and glow dimmed out, but still so beautiful in his eyes nonetheless.

With a deep breath, he spoke, "I-I came here to apologise, for everything. I know it won't do much but I'm not going stop saying how sorry I am. What I did was so fucked up and I am so sorry darling, I really am," Tom paused and waited for you to get a chance to respond. But when you kept looking forward, when you didn't even move a single muscle, he sighed before adding. "And I just need you to know that this is all on me, none of this is your fault, please keep that in mind Y/N. You did absolutely nothing wrong."

You nodded with a shaky breath, and as you gathered all the strength you could muster, slowly you turned to face him.

The look in your eyes only did nothing but sharpen the pain in Tom's chest. Your once joyful orbs were now bloodshot and full of hurt, all because of him. The more he stared into them, the guiltier he got. The weight of what he's done so evident in your gaze, reminding him of all the promises he broke, reminding him just how much he's broke you.

"Do you have feelings for her?" you asked after a few moments of silence, bottom lip trembling despite trying your best for it not to. Tom shook his head with a deep frown, "No, I don't."

He knew where this was heading. You were going to ask him the questions that's been nagging inside your brain, and Tom was going to answer each one with the truth, no second guessing, just pure honesty.

You shifted in your seat, clearing out the lump that formed in your throat before speaking. "Was she better than me in bed?" you trailed off.

Tom couldn't help but wince at the fact that you've thought about it. He felt so disgusted at himself for such an awful deed, so revolted for putting that image inside your brain.

"No. She doesn't compare to you. I'm so so late on realising this but she doesn't make me feel things the way only you can," he answered truthfully, but you looked away.

You just couldn't hold his gaze. To stare at those brown eyes you once called home, those eyes that used to make you feel safe, it's just a sharp stab at your heart knowing that those same eyes betrayed you. It took everything in your power to not break down, unable to think further about everything without bursting into endless tears, unable to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Tom saw this, he saw it in the way you looked at him for that split second, how you just don't trust him anymore. And oh does it hurt, but what did he expect?

You picked at your fingers nails as you kept your head low, trying your hardest to hold yourself together, concealing everything in. But you were grasping onto broken pieces, your heart and mind all fractured, too fragile. The harder you try to keep them as one whole piece, the deeper the cuts you inflict on yourself.

And the picture of him with another woman, touching her in a way that he used to touch you, it feels so vile, an agonizing torture for your already broken heart, and you don't know how much more of the pain you can handle. You don't know how much more you can endure before everything finally falls apart and becomes too damaged to put back together.

But what if that was the right thing to do? What if it was needed to let everything fall apart, to loosen your grip on the broken pieces of yourself for the wounds to heal, for you to be able to start anew? Maybe all you need is for everything to break down completely so you can build them back up, stronger and better.

"She's more beautiful than me isn't she? Has a better body? More talented? She's simply just better than me?" you croaked, trying your best to keep it together. But you were almost there, almost at the point of just letting the whole thing go, to let every emotion come flooding out, the bad and the ugly.

"Fuck no," Tom protested, rubbing a palm across his face in anger, entirely directed at him for planting that thought inside your head in the very first place. He hates seeing you like this, so hurt and full of doubt for no other reason than because of what he did. Tom wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to take it in himself. He's the one who deserves to suffer, not you, never you.

With a deep breath, Tom tried to keep his emotions steady, gaze still set on you — despite it not being returned since you kept looking forward — his voice soft as he continued, "I know my words don't have any weight for you right now but believe me when I say that you will always be the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both on the outside and the inside, from your heart, to your mind and your soul. You are a gorgeous, wonderful and amazing woman Y/N. Please don't doubt that because of the stupid mistake I did."

The moment you locked eyes with him again, Tom's breath got caught in his throat. Your eyes coated with question, utter distress and seething anger, but the pain, God the pain, Tom can feel it sharp and deep in his bones.

Tears fell from your eyes as tried your best to keep your voice steady, but you just couldn't, with the all the different emotions boiling deep inside, you just couldn't.

"Then why Tom? Why?" you sobbed, Tom's heart shattering at the agonizing sound.

He sat straighter, eyes turning glossy but it never left yours, brown orbs boring into your own. "I-I wish I could give you a good enough reason why I did it but I really don't know. All I know is that I was stupid and it was a huge mistake. I realise that now, a little too late but I did. I took what we had for granted—I took you for granted, and I will always regret it until I die."

"You're just saying the things I want to hear." You shook your head with a soft whimper, breaking his gaze as you shut your eyes, enabling more tears run down and coat your cheeks.

"No darling, look at me," Tom croaked, taking the risk as he reached over to take both your hands in his, and you let him, no flinching, you let him touch you. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he gave it a squeeze, a silent way of asking you to look at him.

A shaky breath came out of you at the feeling of his warm skin, your tear-filled eyes meeting his own once again, seeing nothing but transparency as he spoke, "I haven't lied to you from the minute I sat here. It's hard to believe, I know. But I swear on Tessa's life I'm telling you the truth, every single word I've said."

Tom moved closer, fingers nervously fiddling with yours as he tried his best to keep his tears at bay. "I-I really do want you back. I want you to come back home, I want to hold you in my arms again but after everything I've done to you, I understand why that won't ever happen. And y-you deserve someone better, so much better than m-me," he choke back a sob, bottom lip trembling at his last sentence.

"You hurt me Tom, so bad," you whimpered, voice laced with so much agony, no more holding everything in as the strong façade you've been putting on crumbles.

To see you break down in front of him, your hands shaking in his grasp, nothing but utter pain coating the dips and valleys of your face, that was all it took for Tom to crack. His tears now streamed down his face, falling freely one after the other as his emotions came crashing through like a tidal wave.

"I-I know darling, I know and I'm s-so fucking sorry," he spluttered, feeling his throat close up as he tried to blink away the tears, to rid of his blurry vision so he can see you. He just wants to see you, cherish every second since he has no idea if there would be a next time after this.

Then delicately, Tom lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm sweetly, all adoringly before he placed it flat against his warm and damp cheek, leaning into your touch with a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry angel," he whispered, voice filled with pure regret and guilt.

You remained silent, still looking into his eyes but you kept still, not knowing where you'll go from here. But then Tom lets out a nervous sigh. "And I want you to know that I—" he cut himself off as cleared out his throat, eyes staring deep into your own before he spoke with absolute sincerity,

"I love you."

Your lower lip quivered with a soft cry, eyes closing as shook your head at him. "That's the first time you've said that to me since you came back home," you said, breath unsteady as you replay those three words inside your head.

Eight letters tied together giving you an overwhelming feeling. That's what it does when you haven't heard those words escape his lips in a long time. And oh how you missed it, you missed hearing him say it, but what did it cause for you to hear it again? Too much, way too much to the point that you were unsure if the words hold the same true meaning as before, doubtful if it meant anything at all or if he just casually threw it in there for the sake of it.

Tom nodded regretfully, letting go of your hand as he went to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheek tenderly, your eyes opening at the feeling of his skin on yours. "And I wish I could've said it to you more often because I truly love you Y/N. If I could go back and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. If I could go back in time I'd tell you over and over just how much you mean to me, how important you are in my life. I'd tell you every hour of every day just how much I love you."

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom leaned forward until his forehead was now resting against yours. His proximity was intoxicating, the tips of your noses were almost brushing and you thought it would be too much, but it wasn't. You welcomed it, the feeling of being so close to him because after everything, his eyes still have the hold against you, Tom will always have a hold against you.

"I love you so much darling and I fucking hate myself for not showing you that enough, because you deserve nothing more than to know that you are loved, to feel that you are loved. And I am so sorry for failing you at both." he whispered, and with one look into his eyes, you knew he was being genuine, his voice was trembling but still, you can hear it, feel it inside you that he was being honest.

But was that enough to make you feel reassured? Was that all enough for everything to go back to the way it used to be?

No, it wasn't. It wasn't enough to let your heart win over your brain.

"I just need space to think, I'm sorry," you muttered softly as you pulled your face away from his grasp, letting out a small sniffle before crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive stance, to hold yourself in a way. Tom felt his whole chest ache, but he didn't protest. He lets you go despite not wanting to.

"No, it's okay love and I completely understand. I wasn't expecting you to just jump back in my arms when I came here. I just really needed to say all of these to you." Tom shot you a small, broken smile before he lowered his head, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

Silence hung in the air for a few hellish seconds, turning awkward, deafening with each tick. And when you didn't say another word, Tom took that as a sign, took it upon himself to draw a conclusion.

"Uhm—yeah, I-I think this is my cue to leave," he muttered under his breath and stood up from his place, giving you one last glance to see you only spare him a nod, eyes looking anywhere but at him. With a defeated sigh, he started to walk away, but before he could reach the door, your voice stopped him.

"Tom wait—"

He immediately spun around with hopeful eyes to see you on your feet, already facing him with a small frown. Tom was ready, eager to run to you, to hear the words he so desperately need, to kiss you with all that he has as you take him back. But just as how quick he built that hope up, it was slapped away in an instant when you spoke again.

"Can you pack my stuff up for me please? I-I can't—I don't think I can go back at the house," you breathed out, eyes meeting his as you shifted from one foot to the other. "Just my clothes and toiletries, you can throw the other stuff away."

Tom's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. The thought of you unable to go back to the house, your home, it was heartrending but there was no other person to blame for that. He searched your eyes, tried to read any hesitation on your face, because he can't accept it. He can't bear to fathom the thought of getting rid of each trace of you in the house. Tom won't be able to handle it because it feels like the final nail on the coffin, after it's done then there's nothing more to go back to.

But when he saw nothing, when he saw that you do in fact mean it, that it is what you want, he forced a tight-lipped smile. "Anything you need love."

You nodded somberly, "Just leave it in the front porch and I'll get it once you're done."

No more words were said after that, Tom unable to slip in a response as you turned your back on him. And with a gloomy sigh, he pulled the door open and went back inside the house.

The moment he reached the living room, the twins both stood up from their places on the couch, both sporting worried looks as they watched their older brother walk with his head hanging low.

"Uhm, thank you for looking after her and I'm really sorry," Tom said as met his brother's eyes. The boys saw a glimpse of what happened outside, and by the look on Tom's face, they knew that their brother deeply regrets what he's done. If anything, he needs them more now, and what harm will it do when they cut him some slack? Tom was already beating himself up black and blue, he doesn't need more of it from everyone else, especially the ones he truly cares about.

Sam was the first to approach him, a sympathetic smile plastered on the lad's lips as he gave him a comforting hug, a loving pat on the back before moving out of the way. Harry came into view next, hand rubbing at the back of his neck guiltily as he said, "I'm sorry for being an asshole earlier." Tom shook his head at him with a faint smile. "It's fine Harry. I deserved it."

His brother tilted his head to the side with a sad smile, moving closer to pull Tom in for a warm embrace. "Take care of yourself," Harry muttered. Tom lets out a shaky breath as he gave his brother a squeeze.

"I'll try."

***

It was so hard packing your stuff up. The fuller your bags got, the heavier Tom's heart grew. And it took him so long to get it done because he just needed to take a breather in between, the ache in his heart overwhelming him to the point that he can't stop his tears from free flowing.

On a slightly brighter note, he does have a sweet girl to comfort him, a precious staffy who'd lay her head on his lap whenever she hears him stifle out a few tears.

Tessa was supposed to stay with his parents for a couple more days, but Tom couldn't endure being alone in the house. So, he cut her little vacation short and stopped by at their house on his way home right after you two had the talk. Tom told them what had happened, disappointed looks unavoidable but they still gave him a much needed comfort and a few heartfelt advice, and for that he was grateful.

He drove home and went straight to bed right after, tried to get some sleep but struggled to say the least. But after a few doses of alcohol and a couple more tears, exhaustion took over him eventually.

Now it was midday, the rays of the sun shining through the bedroom windows, wrapping the space with warmth but Tom wasn't mirroring the mood, the clear blue sky unable to lift his spirits up.

He was sat on the floor of your shared closet, eyes trained on the already empty shelves. He stared at it for a couple seconds before his gaze fell right beside him where your suitcase was situated, now filled and entirely full.

Tom blew out his cheeks as he reached over to zip it up, the sound unpleasant to his ears, unbearable that his eyes screwed shut to keep the tears in. His head was already pounding; he figured crying some more wasn't going to help.

After a few calming breaths, he felt something nudge at his arm, lids shooting open to see Tessa with a stuffed animal in her mouth. "What have you got there?" Tom asked sweetly as he took the toy from her grasp, heart aching once he saw what it was.

He looked back at Tessa with a small smile. She's a clever girl but Tom just knows the dog was properly confused as to why he was packing her mummy's stuff up.

It pained him to think about it, that he would have to try and explain to her why you'd be no longer around. Tessa loves you quite a lot, absolutely attached that the pup tends to look for you first each time she's back in the house, a jab at Tom's ego but he adores it nonetheless. Hell, she explored each room when they got back last night, a soft whine coming out her once she didn't find you. And now to come and reflect that you two were going to be separated all because of him, it's just an addition to the guilt that was already filling him up to the brim.

Tom pulled her close to his side lovingly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as he whispered on her skin with every ounce of remorse,

"I'm so sorry princess."

***

As he sat on the steps of the front porch, Tom's heart and mind were running a hundred miles per second. Your packed up things were sat on his left while Tessa laid flat by his right. The sweet girl still had no clue why they were outside, just sitting and doing absolutely nothing. But Tom was in much need of some company, and she's always happy to give him that.

He'd sent you the text few minutes ago, saying that it was all done and ready to be picked up. It did cross his mind that he wasn't going to do it, that he'll just keep your stuff here so you won't be able to leave, but that's just downright cruel, selfish and disgusting, so he quickly shut the thought down. Now he was left to wait anxiously, fingers picking at the fabric of the stuffed animal that Tessa lent him earlier.

It wasn't long after when a familiar car pulled up into the driveway, his heart hammering even more at the sight of the vehicle. Tom stood from his place with a shaky breath, dread slowly seeping through his skin at the mere thought that it genuinely was happening. That you were really leaving and it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him.

Tessa perked up when you and Harry came out of the vehicle, the pup not wasting any time as she bolted straight towards your direction. You crouched down to greet her with open arms, a small giggle escaping your lips when Tessa showered you with her kisses.

Tom's heart stuttered at the sight, a feeling of adoration spreading in his chest, but only lasting for a split second as it was quick to be replaced by one with grief. His heart felt like it was getting torn out of his chest at that thought that he might not be able to see this wholesome interaction ever again.

You walked over to the front porch with an unreadable look on your face, Tessa trailing right behind sporting a wide smile as she kept her gaze on you, tail at an all-time wag, still oblivious to what was happening.

"Hey," was all that Tom managed to get out, his heart warming a little at the sight of you, but ached the moment he noticed your puffy face, bloodshot eyes meeting his as you flashed him a faint smile. "I'm taking my car on the way back, so uhm, I think I left the keys inside," you explained, fingers nervously fiddling at the hem of your hoodie.

Tom frowned at that, but he already knew you weren't stepping inside anytime soon. You did ask him to pack your stuff up for that sole reason. To add to that, he also kind of expected that you were going to say that too, so he fished your car key from his pocket and handed it to you.

"I saw it laying on the counter so yeah," Tom trailed off, eyes still set on you as you took the key from him with a slight frown, and when he saw this he panicked. "Fuck, this looks I'm kicking you out or that I'm looking forward to you leaving and came prepared. I'm not. I figured that you would take your car too that's why I have the keys prepared, not because I want you to go, because I really don't want you to go," he rambled before he could even stop himself.

You stared at him for a full second or two, contemplating on what to say — or if you should even say anything at all — but with much thought, not wanting to say the wrong words, you opted on staying silent as you only nodded at him with a hum.

"I think this is everything," Tom cleared his throat to fill up the silence, cheeks all warm and red as he gestured towards your bags. "If I forgot something just let me know," he offered shyly.

You were about to move, to take your things and get this over and done with but before you could even do so, Tom spoke again. "And uhm, I don't know if you wanted to keep him but—" Tom revealed a very familiar stuffed panda from behind him, holding it out for you to take—or not—with a nervous smile.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the toy, frown unconsciously deepening as you took it from his hands.

It was the stuffed panda he won for you during your first date at a carnival. You remember it vividly, his grin wide and proud, eyebrows wriggling as he offered you it with a curtsy. Such a memorable night filled with hearty laughs, screams from terrifying rides, clouds of cotton candy and a handful of friendly competitions. The night then ended with him dropping you back home, and as cliché as it can be, with a sweet goodnight kiss at the front of your door, leaving you both smiling like idiots as he drove away.

After that night you had a feeling that there was something special about this boy. And months down the line, you realised you were right as he was quick to snatch your heart without much effort.

You'll always cherish that day, the simpler times as some would say, and the very panda you held in your hands now was a huge reminder of that. Was there any harm in keeping it? You're not sure. The memory does fill you up with genuine happiness, but then the pain follows soon after as you're reminded that it was once like that. The thought that the memories wouldn't be added with more, it hurts, deeply.

But as you looked at the toy again, you don't have the heart to throw it away. You don't have the strength to give it back either, so you held it closer to your chest as you looked back up to see Tom already staring at you in a certain way, a slight gloss coating his brown orbs.

That's when you knew he thought about the same thing too, remembered that same night, that same exact memory. You both held each other's gaze with such intensity, a slight hint of longing in each other's eyes. There were still so many words left unsaid, you both saw that. But neither of you spoke, neither of you dared to move a muscle.

The tension in the air only grew from there, almost turning awkward. That until Tessa nudged at your leg, making you break eye contact with the man in front of you to look at the pup with a curios yet sad smile. You were unsure if you're going to see her precious face again, and gosh it stings. She's your baby too and in no way do you want to leave her, but sometimes the right decisions requires a bit of sacrifice.

"Spend some time with her. Harry and I will take care of your stuff," Tom spoke as he gave you a reassuring smile, already knowing what's going through your head with just a simple look in your eyes.

You gave him a thankful nod, your own lips curving up and Tom felt his heart melt. It was small, didn't reach your ears by all means, but it's genuine, the warmest smile you've given him since everything that has happened.

With one last look at you, Tom took as much of the bags he can carry and made his way towards Harry, who was leaning on his car with his phone in hand. When the lad heard Tom approach, he smiled, helping him set the bags on the floor before pulling him in for a warm hug.

"You look like shit by the way," Harry joked as pulled away and went to open the boot of the car. Tom scoffed playfully at that. "Thanks bro, feel like it too."

Harry tilted his head at his older brother, hand coming up to give his shoulder a squeeze, making Tom meet his eyes. The brothers shared a smile, Harry not needing to say anything for Tom already knew what he was trying to say, that Harry is there for him, as he always is.

"How is she?" Tom asked softly, continuing the task at hand of loading your things in the car. "Still the same," Harry sighed sadly.

The older brother lowered his head with a deep exhale, just utter guilt filling him up from head to toe. His eyes were now staring at the last bag set on the ground, tears welling up again as reality starts to creep on him.

"Hey, she's a strong girl. She'll be okay. You both will be," Harry reassured and all Tom could do was nod. He wasn't sure if was going to be okay after all of this, his future blurry without you in it. But a brave face he can manage, taking in a deep breath as he placed your last a bag in the boot.

He looked back at the front porch to see you sat on the top step, both hands cupping Tessa's face as your lips moved. Tom could make out the glisten on your cheek, the light of the sun reflecting against it, chest heaving in a way that's had your hands slightly shake. He watched you pull Tessa in for a hug, your eyes screwed shut as you placed a loving kiss on top of her head, the pup giving you one big lick on the cheek once you pulled away, her way of returning the gesture.

Tom's heart took at big swing at the sight, a shaky breath coming out of him as he kept his eyes steady on his two favorite girls, bidding their goodbyes despite not wanting to, but having no choice because of the horrible things that he's done.

He caught his sniffle with a clear of his throat, quickly wiping away the tear that managed to slip with the back of his hand as you stood from your place and made your way towards them. Tessa was following you still, demeanor now different as she looked at your figure with a tilt of her head, almost with a frown.

She was definitely still a bit confused, but Tom has a feeling that she knows what was going to happen, and he will definitely have to hold onto her when you... when you leave.

"Everything ready?" you asked, voice a bit hoarse with the obvious tear lines on your cheek but neither boys said anything about it. "Yeah, good to go," Harry answered when his brother stayed quiet. Tom's eyes elsewhere just so he won't become a balling mess yet again.

"Okay, uhm thanks Tom." His head shot up at the mention of his name, flashing you a forced smile with a curt nod to match.

He tried keep at it his silence as he watched you walk to your car, just knowing his emotions would betray him the moment he opens his mouth. Plus, he genuinely doesn't want to make things harder for you again for putting more things in your head to think about. But the moment you opened the door to your car, he couldn't stop himself, he knew he needed to say something.

"Y/N wait—" Tom called out, walking closer towards you, though when you turned back around to face him, he hesitated. He contemplated if it was worth a shot, if he should at least try and ask. But when he took in your frown up to your glossy eyes, the glow and joy on your skin all faded, he inhaled a sharp breath.

"Take care of yourself," said Tom instead, not the same words that were stuck on the tip of his tongue, not the words that his brain wanted to scream into the open.

"You too," you mumbled, quickly getting inside your car, making Tom miss the expression that crossed your face. The car door slamming shut followed by the silent roar of the engine, drowned out the shaky breath you let out, eyes never meeting his again.

There was a simple question not asked. A question that could make things turn around, make this day have a better outcome, but Tom didn't dare to spit it out. He held himself back thinking that it was for the best.

He crouched down to take a strong hold of Tessa's collar as the two cars backed out of the driveway. The pups heartbreaking whines filled Tom's ears, the sound making his tears run down his cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

There were still words were left unsaid, but there was nothing more he can do with them now as Tom watched your car disappear down the street, eyes steady on the vehicle until the only thing left to see was the skid marks of the tires of your car on the pavement, a reminder that you were once here but may never return again.

***

A week has passed and Tom wasn't feeling any better. If anything, his life just turned shittier with each day gone without you in it.

The house was a complete mess, more so his bedroom with all the crap that's lying around. Said crap ranging from bottles of alcohol – some empty, some half-full – the broken glasses he has yet to pick up, dirty and clean clothes mixed up on the floor, up to the random food wrappers that decorated the area.

Hell, he hasn't even taken a shower in days, that's the state he was in right now. Tom also had to ask his mum to pick Tessa up a couple days ago, given the fact that he can't even take care of himself. Plus, he didn't want to stress the poor girl with him constantly being down in the dumps and more.

Long story short, he was a broken mess, both physically and emotionally. And the light at the end of the tunnel seems too far away where Tom doesn't even believe if it's there to begin with.

But despite wanting to rot in bed for maybe another week or two, to drown in his self-pity basically, he received a few emails that were too important for him to simply shove aside.

So, an hour-long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes later — and a few pain relievers to help with his headache — Tom made his way outside his room only to look for his computer. Once he found it just on top of the coffee table, he held it in his hands and went straight back to the bedroom.

He couldn't bear to stay outside with the sun shining all bright, especially with it accompanied with the clear blue sky. The beautiful day just makes him feel bad about everything, makes him feel worse about himself. Tom felt more comfortable staying inside the bedroom where the curtains were all closed, the space dark and gloomy to match his mood.

Plopping back down on the bed with his back resting against the headboard, he placed the computer on his lap, taking in a tired breath before turning it on. Much to his surprise, he stared right at a photo of Tessa and him, confusion filling him up at the sight of the lock screen because that wasn't what he set it as. His lock screen was of you and Tessa, not him.

Sure enough when he tilted the laptop up, there he saw your initials written on the bottom surface. A frown made its way onto his lips as he realised that he might have given you his computer instead.

You two have the same computer and the only way to tell which one was who's without seeing the contents, was by the initials on the bottom. And just as cheesy as it can get, you were the one who wrote his initials while he wrote yours. Kind of like an autograph, hence why Tom was staring right at his handwriting, as if it wasn't obvious enough that this was in fact your computer.

At the time you both thought it was just cute and silly, a simple gesture for couples in love. Never did it cross Tom's mind that day that looking at it would bring hurt. But now it does, the gesture turned into remembrance, a mere memory of what it used to be.

He was a mess when he packed your things up. It wasn't unlikely that he missed to check which computer he gave to you. But what confused him was that a week has passed yet you hadn't contacted him, nor did you ask the twins to fetch it for you if you still can't bear to see him again.

It could've been that you haven't noticed yet or could've been something else. Tom has no way of knowing as he hasn't spoken to you since. He does know you're still staying at the twins' house courtesy to Harry, but that's about it.

He was about to reach for his phone to contact said lad but he accidentally pressed on the keys, screen now showing your desktop. Tom frowned with a shaky breath, a picture of you two on the beach glaring right at him. But what caught Tom's attention more was a certain folder, the name too long that he had to click it to show the rest.

B-ideas (If by any chance you're Tom please do not open this folder you're gonna break my heart if you do bub)

That only perked his curiosity even more. And given that he's already broke your heart due to something far worse, he double-clicked it to open. What more could he lose?

Tom felt a sharp stab at his chest as he scrolled through countless amounts of photos of different kinds of cakes, certain venues, and lovely decorations.

B-ideas... Birthday ideas.

He screwed his eyes shut, hand going up to pinch the bridge in utter frustration. First it was your relationship with Tessa, even his family for that matter, and now his birthday. What else did he ruin? Well, aside from the obvious anyway. How many times will he have to be reminded about all the things that are affected due to his mistake? Not enough apparently.

You always loved to plan his birthdays for him. He adored how you always get so excited to ask him a few things or when you keep it a secret as much as possible for it to be a surprise. You've made him the happiest boy every birthday. You make him feel even more special and he was glad to have you by his side each time. But now, he's ruined it by a long shot and his birthdays will never be the same.

As he reached the bottom, Tom found another folder within the folder named: For Slideshow (Gift)

Tom dared to open it as well, the pain in his heart only magnifying at the sight of old photos and videos of you and him. There were a few from all around the world — during the whole press tour to be specific — but most of it was just here in London or right at this very home.

You always went the sentimental route when it comes to his gifts. 'You can buy anything you want now,' as you've said. And despite him telling you that he won't care where you got it from – whether it from Tesco's or whatever – as long as you're the one giving it, then he will cherish that gift with all his heart. But of course, you just had to go the extra mile by making sure it was handmade by you. Whether it's a handwritten letter, a collage, or whatever cute thing it may be, you have never failed to make him emotional with each one, a tear or two shed every birthday.

It looked like you were going for a video compilation this year judging by the name of the folder and the contents of said folder—well, what you were supposed to do but it's not happening now, is it?

It was such a trip down memory lane, just photos upon videos, mostly candid, some intentional jump-scares and a few cheesy yet funny ones sprinkled here and there. The one video that caught his eye first though was the one where it had you and him kissing on the thumbnail.

Tom recognized it right off the bat. He remembers that day clearly to this moment. It was from the set where Harry filmed Roses for Lily, where you and Tom helped with all the little things. And his assumption was proven right when he pressed play...

"And that's a wrap everyone!" Cheers erupted around the field followed by applause as Sam and Sophie took a playful bow.

"Connect it to the speaker and play it on my cue," Tom whispered against Harry's ear, confusion crossing the younger lad's face before Tom jerked his head towards you. Harry shook his head at his brother but took his phone anyway, getting so used to his cheesy ass antics.

This wasn't your greatest week regarding work and school, even more so today. So, Tom thought head lift your spirits up in the cheesiest yet sweet way he can managed.

You were talking with Nikki when Tom suddenly came up to the both of you with an expression that you didn't quite read, hands behind his back as he stood with immense posture.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh no, what are you up to?" you asked suspiciously.

"Will you do me the honour of granting me this dance mi lady?" Tom offered his hand with a curtsy, voice sporting the most posh accent he can muster with a cheeky smile plastered on those pink lips.

You shook your head with laughter at your boy. You turned to look at the woman who you were having a conversation with, only to see her give you two thumbs up with a wide smile, and with that, your gaze landed back on Tom sporting a smile of your own.

"Pleasure is all mine kind sir." You mimicked his accent and took his hand, fits of giggles coming out of you as Tom dragged you towards the front of the bench, the view of the field endless behind you.

He interlaced his fingers with yours as his other hand took home on your waist while yours rested on his shoulder, just like a proper ballroom dance. "We don't even have music you dork," you pointed out the obvious, to which Tom only grinned all proud.

"Says who?" He shot Harry a nod and not long after the soft tune of 'The Way You Look Tonight' by Frank Sinatra filled your ears.

You threw your head back as you let out a loud yet hearty laugh. "You're a huge cheese ball aren't you?" you teased.

"Oh please, you love it," Tom flashed you a knowing smirk as he then starts to swing to the tempo of the music. He guided you with gently care as he spins you out and then pulls you back in again, his background in dancing making it easy for him to lead the dance.

And you always admire this talent of his, adored it with all your heart as you break out to random dances – may it be silly or slow – around the house whenever to whatever music. It was not new to you so you can easily follow his rhythm having dance with him before. Plus, the steps were simple enough for you to catch. And having known each other for a long while, it was easy for the two of you to move in sync.

But then he started to sing, and that caught you off guard.

"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm; and your cheeks so soft; there is nothing for me but to love you; and the way you look tonight."

You can't stop your grin from growing at his sweet voice, heart warm as you stared right into those beautiful brown orbs. Tom doesn't sing much often, not seriously anyway. But when he does, it makes your heart melt ten times over and then some, because the boy can definitely sing.

"Am I wooing you darling?" Tom cooed with a wriggle of his eyebrows, earning yet another laugh from you. And with him being all cheeky with his timing, you didn't get to respond as he continued to sing,

"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose; Touches my foolish heart," Tom sang with a cheeky wink, the smile on your lips ever growing that your cheeks we're starting to hurt, but you could care less.

"Lovely, never, never change; keep that breathless charm; won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you; just the way you look tonight,"

He kept singing, not for but to you, dedicating each word, meaning each note that the smile on your lips was impossible to wipe off. Not to mention the simple yet lovely dance, bodies swaying sweetly to the music, it was just like a scene from a movie.

Tom twirled you around courteously, pulling you back closer to him that had both your arms resting over his shoulders. He wrapped his own arms around your form, noses delicately touching as you two mirrored each other's eyes, nothing but the look of love coating them.

And when you nudged his nose adorably, Tom chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaning closer until his lips captured yours in a charming kiss. A kiss so blissful that your hearts were filled with nothing but warmth, spreading from head to toe as you kept dancing to the slowly fading music.

Both of you were unaware that Harry recorded the whole thing, making the little dance, the sweet gesture as pure and raw as it can be. Just two couples in love, cherishing each other's company, adoring one another with everything that they have...

Tom lets out a strangled breath as the video stops, trembling fingers hovering over the space bar as he stared at the still of you, warmly wrapped in his arms, absolutely content, delighted and purely in love.

Next thing he knew, Tom found himself watching videos upon videos of you and him, endless clips that showed just how happy you two were, how happy you made him. Each video showed him the way you use to glow, smile bright as day while your eyes were filled with nothing but pure adoration, a blissful expression on your face and oh how stunning it looks on you. Pure happiness suited you so much and Tom took that away. He took away your shine; he snuffed out that radiance you always bring whenever you're in the room.

He only decided to stop when Tom felt his chest tighten harshly, breath turning uneven as his eyes started to burn. He was about to close the laptop, to set it aside and give himself a breather, but then he saw another one with a thumbnail that has only you in it. Despite being too emotional, despite deciding that the torture was enough, his curiosity was stronger. So, he played it...

"...right, is this recording? Yup, it is, okay."

You sat back on the chair after you adjusted the camera – which Harry kindly let you borrow – on the little desk you had in yours and Tom's shared bedroom. "It's a little too early to make a video message since your birthday is months away but I've got nothing better to do so," you trailed off, adjusting your hair before sitting up and smiling at the lens.

"To the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armour, to my handsome prince," you paused with a scrunched of your nose. "Oh gosh too cheesy. Okay, reel it back, whew, okay, Thomas, spider-boy—well, more like spider-baby..." You let out a laugh at that, shaking your head at yourself before taking in a deep breath and looking back straight at the camera.

"To the absolute love of my life, Tom, happy birthday. Oh now, where do I start? Well, I can start with how proud I am of you. The fact that you've achieved so much in so little time? I couldn't be any prouder. You're the most hardworking man I know, it's not really a surprise how you got to where you are today. But despite all the accolades, the awards you've won — and soon to win — there's always one award, well two actually that's far more important than the rest. First one is you-being-such-an-incredible-human award. You, Tom have the kindest most compassionate heart I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. I could list so many great things but then we'd be here all day, just ask me it later and I'll send it to you in post," you giggled. "But trust when I say that you are a true hero, even without the mask."

"And well, the second award, oh gosh, it's the best-boyfriend award. Forgive my cheesiness — although you do like it — but it is in fact true. You, Thomas, you make me the happiest girl ever. I—oh no here comes the water works," you joked, fanning your eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. And when you felt like you can hold it together, you continued,

"I feel so lucky to have you in my life. You've always been there for me through the good, the bad and the ugly. I don't think I could've made it pass things without you Tom and for that thank you. Thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin. For being my shoulder to cry on when I really need one, for being such a great listener and for being my rock. Thank you for helping me through the hardest times bub," you paused to take a deep breath, eyes glossy but with a proud smile on your lips nonetheless.

"...granted our relationship isn't perfect, we've had our disagreements and petty fights but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I wouldn't trade you for the world, Tom. I am happy to be with you, so content with what we have. We've laughed together, cried together, we've grown together, and as promised, we're going to be there for each other, always." you let out a soft giggle to try and clear the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly to keep it in, though it already obvious in your eyes that you weren't going to be successful.

"And lastly... I love you so much Tom. My heart could literally exploded with just how much, and I just want you to know that whatever it takes, whatever challenge life will hurl at us, whatever happens in the future, I will always, truly, with all that I am, lov—"

"Darling? Where are you?" Tom's voiced echoed down the hallway, halting your words as you turned your head towards the door. With a sweet laugh, you look back to the camera. "You and your impeccable timing Thomas."

You quickly wiped the tears that managed to escape your eyes, making sure you don't look suspicious to not ruin the plans of surprise.

"Sweetheart?" Tom called out again.

"Bedroom babe!" you answered, taking in deep breaths before reaching for the camera. "I'll finish this later I guess. I'll see you—well in a couple seconds but future you sometime soon, love you!"

And with a blow of a kiss, you turned the camera off...

The whole bedroom turned eerily quiet as the screen turned pitch black. Almost quiet aside from the soft tap, tap, tap – the sound of Tom's tears hitting the computer keys, one after the other.

Tom stifled out a whimper as he screwed his eyes shut, hand coming up to tug at his hair in anger, sorrow, regret, hurt. You were good to him, you were everything to him and more. How could he waste that? He lost someone so rare, someone who's out of this world from beauty to heart. No one could ever replace you, nobody will ever come close to how much of an amazing person you are, how special and lucky you made him feel.

He had everything, and he threw that away.

As he tried to catch his breath, he reached for his phone, dialing the number of the only person who'd give him comfort but without all the bullshit.

"Hey Harrison, I know you’re probably still disappointed with me right now too but I just really need someone to talk to..."

***

"...and then I found this folder of hers that has all these ideas for my birthday. It even had old photos and videos of us but what struck me the most was her video message and I just—" Tom stopped to catch his breath, wiping away the tears on his face before he looked up a Harrison with a soft sob, "I ruined so much."

"You did," the lad answered bluntly, no sugar coating, no bullshitting. He wasn't going to say the words that his friend wanted to hear, if he kept doing that then how will he learn?

Tom buried his face in his hand in shame, sniffing loudly before lifting his head up again, face all puffy as he met his best friend's eyes with his bloodshot ones. "I miss her so much Haz, and I really want to fix things between us, to have her back. But I don't have a chance anymore."

Harrison frowned at that. He knows the full scope of the situation, but he doesn't recall you saying those exact words, well, as what Tom has explained to him anyway. "Did she say you don't have a chance anymore or did you just put words into her mouth?"

You didn't. You haven't told him those exact words, but your actions were an enough sign right? Tom leaned back on the couch, hand running through his hair with an exasperated sigh. "She told me to pack up her things, I think that's a clear message that it's over," he grumbled.

Harrison shook his head at his friend disapprovingly, "Tom, she has been fighting for your relationship for more than a month and you're already giving up in a week? After what you've done, I think you need to fight harder than that mate. Put more effort in, you owe at least that to her."

Tom frowned at his words, guilt growing more intense as the gears started to turn in his head. Did he really give up that easily? Could he have done so much better? If he asked you to sta—

But then the nagging voice was quick to shut down his questions. A certain reason why he feels like he can do nothing about it grew louder in his mind, said reason he felt the need to speak out loud.

"She deserves someone better than me Haz. I broke her heart and I—" Tom rubbed the nape of his neck. "I don't think I deserve another chance," he concluded in defeat.

Harrison sighed, placing a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder before he began. "Okay look, there are only two paths you can choose regarding this. Path one, you can mop around, drown in your pity party and just give up with everything like a fucking wuss. Or path two, you can get off your ass, thrive to be better, right your wrongs and be the man that she deserves. You have to fight for her if you truly want her back Tom. It's just a matter of choice," Harrison finished as he shot him a knowing look.

"I think you've been so busy telling yourself that everything is too late, but what if it's not yet? You think it's too late, but is it actually too late for her? What if she just needs more persuasion? What if she just needs a proper reassurance that you're going to make things right? For you to truly show her that you do in fact still love her? All I'm saying here Tom is that you won't know the answer to these questions unless you ask them, unless you give them a try. We don't get what we want easily, you have to work hard for it." Harrison added.

Tom stared at his best friend in pure shock and amusement given that he's never heard him sound so wise with advise before. They usually do stupid shit together, and when it comes to relationships, they both can be as equally as clueless.

But nevertheless, Tom felt like his eyes got opened, a new perspective settling in his mind and he will be forever grateful at Harrison for that.

"Fuck you're right." Tom didn't waste any more time as he got up from his place and went to go get his keys. Harrison sat there bewildered, calling out to Tom again when he saw him go towards the front door, "Where are you going?"

Tom turned to his friend with a small yet hopeful smile, the most he's felt in a while, "I'm getting her back."

***

Sam looked at his brother in complete surprise once he pulled the door open, "Tom what are yo—" the lad cut himself off once he saw Tom's face, clear in his expression who he was looking for.

"She didn't tell you," the twin muttered with a frown, his sudden change in demeanor making Tom worry. "Didn't tell me what Sam?" he asked cautiously. Tom thought he already prepared for the worst, thought that he can handle any sort of rejection, but when his brother spoke again, all the color drained out his whole body.

"Harry drove her to Heathrow thirty minutes ago."

It took a few seconds for Sam's statement to finally sink in. And when it did, Tom cursed as he quickly turned on his heel and ran, heart pounding, head spinning.

"Tom, wait!"

Sam didn't get a chance to stop him as he was already back inside his car, engine roaring as he veered into the road at top speed. He was driving dangerously, Tom was aware of that, but he can't let you step even a toe in that plane. If he does, then it will really be too late.

***

"Come on Harry, pick up, pick up, come on lad pick u—Harry! Which terminal?" Tom asked in haste, fingers drumming against the wheel impatiently.

"Huh? Terminal?"

"Bro, I beg, just tell me which terminal you dropped her off, please." Tom heard Harry sigh on the other line, his anxiousness growing with each silent second, and when his brother gave him the information, he felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes.

"Terminal 2... She's off to Abu Dhabi."

***

Tom's lungs were gasping for air, both from him running as fast as he can, and from the fear that was overwhelming him to every bone. Fear that he might not catch you on time.

The crowded airport wasn't helping his anxious state at all, his eyes quick to dart around as he tries his best to look for you. He asked around, looking like a lunatic as he shows your picture to random strangers. He even asked at the desk just to narrow where you could've gone, to make it easier to find you in this huge haystack. And when he hadn't had much luck, Tom was quick to assume that you already got pass security.

It may had been dumb, but everything he's done at this point has been dumb, what's the worst thing that could happen if he tried to get pass the guards?

But before he could even attempt and sneak his way in, a large, tall man blocked his way. "Boarding pass?"

Tom shook his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, mind an utter mess that it was hard for him to think straight, "I-I don't have... it's an emergency please I–"

"Sir, you're not allowed inside if you don't have a ticket," the security reprimanded, hand held up as he stops Tom's chances of slipping by. He's an idiot really, thinking that he can talk his way through, but he tried it anyway, begged in desperation just so he can find you before you get on that plane. "Please just let me through, it will be quick, I just need to—"

"Tom?"

Never had he ever turned around so quick in his life, relief washing over him once he saw you standing there, bottle of water with a receipt in hand, confusion written all over your face at the sight of him.

Tom just ran straight towards you, his burly body almost knocking you out of balance as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, arms engulfing you tightly, like he's holding onto you for dear life. Tom's whole body shaking as he balled his eyes out, a stuttering mess when he tried to speak to say the least.

"N-no, p-please don't leave me, I-I can't—I can't do this without you, p-please don't leave," Tom sobbed against your skin, his hold around you vise-like but just enough for it not to hurt. He's just downright scared to loosen his grip for you might vanish into thin air if he does.

You tried to pull him off of you but a useless effort as he is much stronger than you. And the harder you try, the firmer his grip on you becomes, muttering his protest over and over of him not wanting to let go. You sighed, "Tom, look at me, bub..."

Tom lets out a whimper at the nickname, pulling away just slightly until he was able to rest his forehead against yours, his warm tears dropping on your cheek and your heart stung at the feeling.

"Breathe for me," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands. Your thumb caressed his cheek tenderly, wiping away the tears that ran down them as much as you could. Tom did as told, attempting to steady his breathing, the warmth in your eyes helping him by a mile.

When he finally got a hold of himself, he took one deep breath before speaking. "I should've asked you before you could even leave the house, should've chased after you. I should've fought harder for you. I wanted to ask you this before you got into your car and I didn't, which was a mistake," he trailed off, clearing out his throat as he gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I should've at least tried and asked you stay. I hope it's not too late but now I'm asking, begging you to stay. I want you to stay with me, please?" Tom pleaded, ready to be on his knees but you stopped him, he didn't need to be. Your fingers traced his jaw delicately, heart aching at the sight of broken man in front of you, but you've already made a decision. It was hard sticking to it now with him here, but you just had to remind yourself that this was for your own sake. You've already thought this through and it was final.

"I—I can't," you paused as the number of your flight echoed through the speakers. You turned back to Tom with a soft whisper, "You know I can't."

"At least you could've said goodbye?" he squeaked, voice breaking at the fact that your mind was already set, and when that happens, even before your worlds got flipped upside-down, it takes so much to change it.

"I couldn't, because I know for a fact if given the time, you might actually change my mind. Hell, just seeing you right now, it's already making me doubt my decision. But I need this Tom, I need to do this for myself. I've realized that my world revolved too much around you, and I don't regret it at all but I need to find my own path, grow as my own person."

Tom nodded dejectedly, eyes shut tightly because he knows he would have to let you go in a couple minutes. He needs more time, he wants more time with you. But when he heard your flight getting called again, Tom knew there was not much he can do about it.

"But when are you coming back?" he asked, voice frail but full of dread. And Tom felt his heart shatter some more when you looked away, his frown deep and sorrowful as he muttered, "You're not planning to."

You shook your head with a close of your eyes. "No. I am... I just don't know when," and it was true. You were going away for quite some time but you have a life here in London as well. It would be too hard to stay away. But as of now, you don't think you'll be back anytime soon.

As you open your eyes to look at those brown orbs again, you knew he understood.

He always does. Tom is quick at that when it comes to you. Not needing a whole lot of words to know what you mean, one look in the eyes will suffice. Tom couldn't say much more either, so he lets his action speak for itself instead.

He pressed his lips against yours, the gesture catching you off-guard but only for a split second as you melted in his arms not long after. Tears slipped pass your eyes at the feeling, the feeling of his lips you've missed dearly, and Tom was the same. He missed how your lips fit perfectly with his, he missed how warm it feels, tender and soft.

It was a bittersweet kiss with the sense of goodbye laced in it, but it was beautiful nonetheless, special in a way as two hearts melt into one once more. Neither of you wanted to pull away. You just wanted to be stuck in the moment on repeat, destroy the buttons so that it plays on a never-ending loop. But when you heard your name through the speakers, you had no choice but to pull away.

As you stared into each other's eyes, both of you knew there was one more thing left to say, and as you did, as you spoke with nothing but sincerity, your hearts were filled with nothing but pure—

"I love you Y/N."

"And I love you Tom."

And with that he lets you go, hands going limp at his sides as he watches you gather your things and walk towards security. Before you could disappear out of sight, you spared him one last look over your shoulder, a smile written on your lips, one that was genuine, filled with adoration and... love.

It was a look that would always be burned in Tom's memory, but hopefully it won't be the last. Hopefully, with every choice made from here on out, if it's destined, then you'll find your way back to each other.

-:-:-:-:-

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[definitelyseven]

deal | three (m)

summary: when your step-mom unexpectedly offers you a deal you can’t resist, you decide to give her a taste of her own medicine by seducing her potential suitor, Im Jaebum.

one (m) | two | three (m) | four (m) | five | six (m) | seven | eight (m) | nine | ten | eleven | twelve (m) | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen - final |

You stood in front of the mirror, examining the dress that was wrapped tightly around your body. The dress fit perfectly and accentuated every part of your body. It showed just enough cleavage to tease. You smoothened the dressed out with the palms of your hand before taking a deep breath. Why did you have to go to the party with him tonight?

When you reached half-way down the stairs, you saw Jaebum waiting for you by the door. He makes eye contact with you and flashes his beautiful smile. You get nervous just at attention he was giving you. “You look beautiful,” he commented when you reached to the bottom of the stairs. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said giving him a subtle smile. In fact, you didn’t think someone could look this handsome, but he did. His suite fit perfectly on him making his broad shoulders even more apparent, more muscular. You bit your lip slightly thinking about having his arms around your naked body. 

“Ready?” he asked sticking his elbows out slightly for you to wrap your arm around his. You nodded and walked out of the house with him. 

The car ride to the party was quiet. You kept glancing over at him, watching his hands grip around the steering wheel. God, he was gorgeous and just the thought of having his arms around your body made your core tingle.

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” he asked, breaking you away from your dirty thoughts.

“N-nothing,” you said turning to him with a smile. “Why can’t Eunbi come with you?”

“I needed her help with something else. She’s taking care of that now,” he said before reaching over to your thigh. His hand laid gently on your thigh, thumb stroking your skin, sending shockwaves to your core. If you weren’t wet before, you sure are now. “Don’t be nervous. I’ll be here and I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“I’m not nervous,” you lied. You reached for his hand that was on your thigh and moved it up your thigh, close to your core. He takes his eyes off the road and looks at you. “Eyes on the road,” you teased before brushing his hand off your thigh completely. He chuckles before glancing back at the road. 

Jaebum’s arm never left your waist as you walked into the big ballroom. His grip tightened when he hears your small gasp at the sight of the amount of people at the party. As much as you didn’t want to admit, you were nervous. Your dad always went to parties like this, but he’s never taken you. This was your first one. You always wondered what was so great about these parties that he had to leave you and your mom at home alone almost every night. You’ll finally know, finally understand. 

“Mr. Kim,” Jaebum said to the man approaching you. He moves his arm off your waist to shake his hand.

“Mr. Im,” the man shakes Jaebum’s hand and turns to look at you, smirking. He was older than Jaebum, but nevertheless, still handsome. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“This is my-”

You watched Jaebum struggle to introduce you so you decided to take the lead, “I’m Jaebum’s friend, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” you said extending your hand. Mr. Kim brings your hand to his lips, giving it a gentle peck. 

“What a beauty,” he said with your hand still on his. Jaebum protectively wraps his arm around your waist again, giving it a gentle stroke before pulling your body close to his. You pulled your hand away from Mr. Kim. “I must say Jaebum, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Figured I had to attend these things every now and then.” 

"Having trouble with that deal you have with Mr. Park?” Mr. Kim said with a devilish smirk. 

“Thanks for your concern. I wouldn’t worry so much about me, you should worry about yourself. Your stocks really plummeted after the scandal about your affair,” Jaebum refuted. You bit your lip, holding back a laugh. 

“Dance with me,” you asked turning to face Jaebum, before Mr. Kim was able to respond. He nods excusing yourselves away from Mr. Kim. 

“I might have punched him in the face if you didn’t pull me out of there,” Jaebum said pulling your body close against his. The both of you moved slow, swaying to the music. It was difficult for you to understand how attracted you were to him - with every touch, he made your core tingle and being this close to him wasn’t helping. You thought it was torture because he probably didn’t even know he had that affect on you. “So, I’m you friend now, huh?”

You smirked and whispered in his ear, “I think daddy is a more suitable nickname for somewhere private, don’t you think?” 

He chuckles, pulling you closer to him. His hand lowers to the back of your spine, just before you ass, “Mhmm, say that again princess.” Hearing him call you that made your core wet. You could feel the stickiness in between your panties. 

You brushed your lips gently on his earlobe before whispering, “Daddy.” He pulled your lower body close to his with the hand that was on your back. His length rubbing against your dress, you let out a small moan in his ear. “You like when I call you daddy?” 

“Just as much as you like to be called princess,” he said before brushing your hair to one side, exposing your bare shoulder. He leans down and gives it a small peck. 

Someone clears their throat behind you, making the both of you turn to look at who it was - Mr. Kim.

“Can I steal her away for a dance?” 

Jaebum didn’t want him to look at you, let alone touch you. You assured him that it would be alright. He agrees, leaving your side for the first time that night. 

“Now tell me why a beautiful women like you, is with someone like him,” Mr. Kim says, pulling your body close to his. It felt different. He was handsome, yes, but you didn’t feel anything from his touches. You felt cheap. 

“If you keep calling me beautiful, I might just blush,” you said sarcastically. 

“Beauty and humor. Come play with daddy tonight,” he offered whilst moving his hand down to your ass. 

“Mr. Kim, if your hand goes any lower, I would start to think you’re reaching for something else other than my back,” you retorted before grabbing his hand on your ass and bringing it back to your waist. 

“Oops,” he said half-heartedly. “What do you say? How much?”

“Mr. Kim!” you said pulling away from him. “I suggest you start respecting me and yourself. You don’t want another scandal,” you warned him which makes him laugh out loud. 

“Oh baby! What kind of party do you think this is?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Look around - old men, young women. You don’t think they’re the wives of these rich businessmen.”

You looked around and he was right. All the women here was around your age, give or take. 

“It’s a bring and trade party, baby. Bring a women and trade for another for one night.”

“These women are escorts,” you said in disbelief. 

“That’s a nice way to call them,” Mr. Kim said before reaching for you. You stepped back.

“I’m sorry, I need to use the restroom,” you said before walking away from him and out of the ballroom.

“Y/N!” you hear Jaebum call, but you ignore him and walked away faster. How could he bring you here? What does he think you are? Tears began to form in your eyes as you hear him run after you. Your stupid heels was prohibiting you from walking any faster. “Y/N!” he calls again before grabbing your arm. “What happened? Did he do something to you?”

“What kind of party is this?” you asked him with tears in your eyes. He was shocked by your question. 

“Y/N...I’m sorry, please let me explain.”

“Were you going to trade me for another girl tonight? Is that what you think of me?” you asked tears falling from your eyes.

“No, no...” he said cupping your cheeks in his hand and wiping away your fallen tears. “Of course not, baby.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“I needed to bring someone I trusted. I trust you,” he said pulling your face close to his. “I promised I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”

You shut your eyes, letting more tears escape. He wipes your tears away as quickly as they fall. 

“Let me tell them we’re leaving and head home,” he said comforting you.

You didn’t say a word to him on your way home. To be honest, you didn’t know what to say so it was better to keep your mouth shut. You could tell he was walking on eggshells with you. He kept glancing over at you every now and then, but you kept your eyes straight ahead unlike earlier before.

“Y/N, will you please stop and listen to me?” Jaebum asked entering the front door after you.

“What?”

“Please, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. You know that,” he said reaching for you.

“Those girls are human beings. How can you guys treat them like that? Like we’re objects. It’s degrading!” 

“I know, but there’s nothing I can do. These parties have been going on since before I was even born. These men are rich and powerful and they want to fool around. We don’t force anyone to do anything they don’t want to,” he explained.

“And that makes it okay?” you said crossing your arms.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jaebum sighs taking a step close to you. He rubs your arm. “At least when I’m there, I know I can save one girl from a bad night. I never had relations with any of them. You have to trust me.”

You sighed looking away from him. He was right.

“Daddy!” Minguk said running into Jaebum’s arms. “Are you fighting with Y/N?”

“No buddy, we’re just talking. Why aren’t you asleep yet?” 

“Sorry Mr. Im, he wouldn’t sleep unless you tucked him in,” the babysitter said. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you an Uber home,” he said letting Minguk down on his feet. You squatted next to him. 

“Sorry cutie, were we being too loud?” you asked stroking his cheek. 

“Don’t be mad at daddy,” he asked rubbing his eyes. Poor little thing must be so tired, it was already midnight.

“Let me tuck you in,” you said picking him up and bringing him into his room. You changed his diaper and put him to bed. You sat and watched Minguk sleep for awhile, making sure he was comfortable and deep asleep before leaving.

“Thanks for tucking him in,” Jaebum said as you closed the door to Minguk’s room.

“No problem,” you said with a subtle smile. 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to mistaken that I don’t respect you,” he confessed, walking towards you. You shake your head; you didn’t think that. “I don’t want you to be upset with me,” he said cupping your cheeks again. 

“I’m disappointed, but I’ll get over it,” you tell him honestly. “Goodnight, Jaebum.”

“Goodnight,” he said leaning down to kiss your cheek. His lips linger on your cheek for awhile before he pulls away. You walked back to your room, letting out a big sigh. His skinship made your body heat up again.

You undressed yourself and stepped into the shower. Your thoughts wander to earlier this evening when Jaebum pressed his lower body against yours, feeling his length on you. You moaned at the thought. 

You reached down, feeling your juices already coating your core. It’s been awhile since you’ve been touched by a man, and being this close to Jaebum everyday made it more unbearable. Pleasuring yourself was nothing compared to the real thing, but this would have to suffice for now. You let your thoughts wander to how you wanted to be fucked by him.

--

His body was pressed against your back as he slightly angled your leg upward so he can push himself into you in one motion. You moaned throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Your chest against the cold shower wall made your nipples go hard. Jaebum wrapped his arm to the front of your waist, quickly finding your clit. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered in your ear. You moaned as he started playing with your clit. He runs his fingers up and down your folds, pinching and pressing your clit to give you maximum pleasure and pain. “Tell daddy what you want, princess,” he said thrusting harder and harder into you. 

“I want to cum all over your cock, I want you to mark me and fuck me till I’m sore. Please daddy...” you begged. He turns you around to face him, picking you up in his arms, before ramming his cock back inside you. You threw your head against the wall as the hot water hits your body. 

“You’re so hot,” he says before taking your breast in his mouth. He flicks his tongue over your nipple before sucking and biting on it. 

“Yes daddy, mark me up...” you moaned out hugging him tighter.

“Think you can handle daddy?” he asked. You nodded quickly as he thrusted his cock deeper into your core, making your core clench around him. He continues to thrust into you roughly, pulling all the way out and then shoving himself back into you. “Be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock,” he moaned out as he connects his lips onto your neck, rubbing your clit vigorously. His thrusts combined with the circular motions on your clit made the pit in your stomach grow. You were so close, but you wanted this to last. You clenched your core around his cock, holding this position to calm yourself down. “Fuck baby, keeping doing that and I’m going to spill my seed into you,” he groaned. You relaxed your core and allowed him to keep thrusting into you.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, feeling yourself about to come undone. The hot water mixed with your heavily breathing was creating so much steam in the bathroom, it made it hard to breathe.

“That’s it baby, let it go,” he said giving your clit a pinch before rubbing it some more. 

--

You rubbed your own clit vigorously chasing your own high as you dreamed about Jaebum fucking your tight pussy. “Daddy...” you moaned out, feeling yourself close to climaxing. You leaned your head against the shower wall, reaching for the shower head. You turned the pressure on high and aimed it at your core. The intense water pressure hitting your clit pushed you over the edge, cumming to the thought of Jaebum’s cock inside you.

You sat down on the shower floor, chest heaving up and down, coming down from your high. 

[theravenclawrevolutionary]

In one last celebration of Maxime's birthday here's a collection of three birthday scenes from my novel wip about him! This post is fairly long and certainly unpolished so read at your own risk.

Excerpt from Chapter One, featuring newborn Maxime

"Isn't he wonderful mon amour," Jacqueline asked her husband, tearing her eyes away from her son for the first time since he'd been placed in her arms. "Absolutely wonderful! And to think," she said pausing to look into François' eyes. "He was born out of love. Not everyone can say that for themselves."

"You're right," François muttered, thinking back to the day Jacqueline had told him that she was pregnant. She'd told him a month or so after they had done the very thing that caused it. He had been courting her on and off for a little more than a year and one night the two had let their emotions and desires get the better of them in the worst way possible.

The night Jacqueline told him, François had done two things. First he had gone out and drank for quite a considerable length of time. While he was out he had decided that he was going to marry Jacqueline. At the beginning of their still-new marriage, there were times when he wasn't sure whether he did it for his honor or the sake of Jacqueline and the child. Now, he realized, as he sat with his own little family, it didn't matter who he originally did it for. Either way, he'd made the right choice.

Yet even after they had promised to marry, the two were the talk of Arras. Everyone knew everyone there and all it seemed anyone could talk about was the brewer's daughter, her scandalous relationship with the well-known attorney, and the swiftly growing child that was the result. There had been numerous occasions several months before they were set to be married, and he'd been so terrified of what others would say and whether or not he was ready for such a commitment that he'd almost called off the entire thing. His own parents hadn't even attended the ceremony when it finally came around and Jacqueline's parents only went because witnesses were required. Yet here he was, four months married with a beautiful newborn son and a wife that he loved.

The child shifted his small arm slightly, inadvertently drawing his parents’ attention back to him. His tiny eyes opened slightly for a fraction of a second, revealing pale green irises that matched his mother's. Gently, trying her best not to disturb the child, his mother bent down to kiss him on the head. A few moments went by in comfortable silence. The three sat together, warm, and filled with love.

"He's going to be named after you, you know." François looked away from Maximilien's peaceful face, startled at his wife's words. She laughed slightly and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What?" Francois was completely taken aback.

“He's going to be named after you. Maximilien François; that's going to be his name." Jacqueline smiled up at her husband and shifted even closer against him, enjoying the slightly surprised expression on his face. Her husband was not usually an easily surprised man so she took great pride in the times she did manage to surprise him. "We've talked about this before, you know. It was the night I told you about him. I told you that after you came back to me." She refrained from adding, 'Not that you were sober enough to remember it.' As well as things had turned out, her husband’s fondness for alcohol did occasionally tend to cause problems when his emotions ran high enough. She could smell it faintly on his breath.

There had been no expectation of all-encompassing joy that night. It had been terrifying to say, like a criminal confessing his crime to a condemning judge. Her lips had trembled and her eyes had filled with tears as her lover approached their meeting place.

Francois had greeted her with a kiss to her hairline, his dark eyes taking in her pale face. He’d said some words as well, but Jacqueline didn’t hear them. Her own words spilled from her lips, burning as they left. Francois froze for a few moments like an animal caught in a trap. He made to move toward her and for a moment she thought that perhaps everything would be alright in the end. He fled. And then he’d returned.

Jacqueline could remember looking up at him from the place she had sat crying for hours. She could remember smelling the alcohol strong on his breath and clothes as he fumbled over his words. But she could also remember him kissing her cheek softly with one hand resting gently on her stomach and telling her that everything was going to be alright. And everything was. He’d gone out and bought a ring, and tried, really tried, to make things right. Jacqueline was so lost in her memories that she almost didn't hear the soft sound of her son fussing in her arms.

"Shhhh," she crooned sleepily, holding the child close to her chest. One hand reached out of his blankets for a moment and François tucked it back in as gently as he could manage. "Hush little Maxime. You will be alright. Nothing will happen as long as your father and I are here, and we always will be." Quietly comforting their son, Jacqueline and Francois sat together in peaceful darkness until the priest came to baptize him.

Excerpt from Chapter two, featuring six-year-old Maxime

“Come on little man. Let’s show you your gift shall we?” François headed for the door, making sure that Maximilien ducked his head before stepping outside. The street was mostly empty and the sky was still cloudy and grey, but the fresh smell of the recently finished rain filled their nostrils and the sound of their own laughter filled their ears. Jaqueline, walking slowly because of her pregnancy, and the other children with their little legs followed the pair out of the house. Maximilien gasped.

“Birds! You got me birds, Papa? Oh, thank you! Thank you, Papa!” A small wooden cage containing two gray doves chirping softly sat beside the door. Maximilien knelt down beside it and stuck his fingers through the slats, hoping that one of the birds would come land on his finger. He felt the water on the road soak into the knees of his breeches but ignored it. He was too entranced by the birds to care.

“You like them then,” Jacqueline asked smiling. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from her son.

“Oh yes! I love, love, love them! Do they have a name already? Or can I name them?”

“Go right ahead darling,” Jacqueline said, lifting Augustin into her arms. “They’re yours now. But you have to promise to take care of them, alright?” He nodded earnestly.

“I promise! Cross my heart and hope to cry! Wait… is it die? Hmmm… I dunno.” He paused to think for a few moments. “I’m going to name them um… Sunny and… and Tart!”

“They’re so cute,” Henriette squealed, pushing her way past her parents. “Can I pet one Maxime?” He made a face but nodded anyway.

“I guess so. But be nice. You gotta be gentle.” Maximilien took her little hand in his and slowly guided it towards the birds. They squawked a little and ruffled their feathers slightly but allowed the two to pet them.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Lottie look! See them?” Charlotte giggled and joined her siblings by the cage. François and Jacqueline smiled at each other in the setting sun.

It had taken a significant amount of time to get him to bed that night. He kept finding his way back to the cage which had been moved to his bedroom.

“Maximilien lay down!” He sighed and stormed over to his bed, stomping his feet and glaring at his mother as he went. “If you don’t behave, you’re going to have to be punished.” He flopped onto the bed.

“But Maman,” he protested. “I want to play with my birds!”

“If you don’t go to sleep you won’t be allowed to visit Grand-mère and Grand-père tomorrow. And I know you were so looking forward to it." Those words seemed to have the desired effect because Maximilien nearly fell out of bed as he scrambled under the bedsheets and pulled them up around his chin. “I thought you might see it that way darling,” Jacqueline said, smoothing her son’s hair and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Maximilien fell asleep easily that night with a smile on his face and the sound of his birds chirping quietly in the corner.

Excerpt from Chapter 25, featuring thirty-one-year-old Maxime

May 6th proved to be an interesting birthday. Most of the day was spent in the palace assembly hall that housed all the meetings of the Estates-General, listening to the bickering of hundreds of men. It was also discovered that, though the representation of delegates from the Third Estate had been doubled, the entirety of the men gathered still shared one vote. Outraged at the holdover from the outdated 1614 meeting, several men voiced their opinions on the largest class receiving the same number of votes as the minuscule portion of society represented in the First and Second Estates, none too quietly either. For Maximilien, a large portion of the assembly was spent gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the pounding headache forming behind his eyes.

Camille, who Maximilien hadn’t known to be around Versailles, found where he was staying and gifted him a surprise visit that night.

Maximilien had been sitting at the rickety desk in the half-light of the setting sun, scribbling down a few lines of poetry into his journal, when the knock came.

“Um… hel- hello,” a muffled, but familiar, voice asked from the other side. “Is this where Maxime, I mean Monsieur de Robespierre is staying? I’d heard that it is.”Maximilien sprang to his feet, removing his glasses and setting them beside the journal before running his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb it into some semblance of order.

“Camille? Is that you? What are you doing in Versailles?!”

“Yes. It’s me. Let me in and I’ll tell you.” Maximilien opened the door and Camille, with his curls dancing wildly about his head, bounded into the room. He embraced Maximilien with a grin and kicked the door closed behind him. “Oh! Right. Happy birthday by the way. That is the whole reason I stopped by after all.” Maximilien gestured to the delicate desk chair he had just been sitting at.

“Ah. Thank you. Would you… would you like to sit down? I feel as if you’ll be staying for quite some time.” Camille complied and sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, holding his breath a little as he did so, clearly hoping it wouldn’t break under his slight frame. “I’d offer you refreshments, but I feel that it’s painfully obvious that I have none.”

“That’s alright. I realized about halfway here that I should have brought you a gift of some sort.”

“I’m sure the tales of what you’ve done since we last spoke will be a gift on its own.” Camille laughed, the warm sound filling the dark cramped room and bringing back fondly bittersweet memories from their years at Louis le Grand. “So please, enlighten me as to what’s delivered you to the same place as I. And any other stories you find worthy of mentioning.”

“I haven’t been elected to the Estates-General as you well know,,” he began. “I wanted to so incredibly badly, but the men back in Guise aren’t nearly as fond of me as you are. I failed, almost certainly because of their distaste, but living in Paris for so long before with nothing but occasional visits home certainly didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry.” Camille dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand.

“No matter. I’ve been enjoying myself to some degree. My law practice sputters out now and again, but it always comes back around. I write for newspapers on occasion too.”

“How’s Martin,” Maximilien asked, fearing the answer. He had little hope that their relationship had lasted the extent of nine years. “Are you two still together.” Camille let out a barking laugh still tinged with sadness, even after many years.

“No. I apparently was a ‘flight of schoolboy fancy” who was being used for cheap entertainment and all that. He was crying when he told me though. I think it was a lie. His father found out about us. But Martin doesn’t matter. I’m courting a girl now. Lucille Duplessis. She’s very, very pretty, extremely sweet, intelligent for her age, and, unlike Martin, she’s deemed proper by society. I’ve fallen head over heels for her and she seems to feel the same way unless she’s a fucking fantastic actress! Contrary to what her father has to say, I think we’re a good match.”

“Oh… That’s nice. I’ll have to meet her someday. I am sorry about how everything ended with Martin though.”

“‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Is that all you can say Maxime? You need to relax a little. Tell me, what have you been up to recently?”

“Life in Arras has been good to me since graduation. Not only has my law practice been mildly successful but I’ve also been elected to the Royal Academy of Arras and I spend a lot of time writing poetry. Living with Charlotte was not disagreeable either. We live in a small house we’ve been renting on the Rue du Saumon. It’s only a short walk to my office and an even shorter one to the parish church where my grandparents and mother are buried. In this time I have also realized a… a specific vein of fondness not only for ladies but a few gentlemen as well.”

“Maxime!” Camille’s tone was incredulous and a bit proud. “You’ve turned yourself into a right little rake, haven’t you!” Maximilien sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand as his eyebrows knit.

“Not fondness in the physical way for either of them, like you, Camille,” he said hurriedly, trying to make himself clear. “I know these feelings to be of a solely romantic fashion. Additionally, no feelings have resulted in anything, hindered by my inability to flirt and to detect when someone else is flirting with me in return.”

“Poor Maxime,” Camille said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm and his hazel eyes shining. He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing out the curls. “Whatever shall you do?”

“Devote my time to helping others. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. You know that.”

“And I expect that’s why you wanted to be here, isn’t it. You wanted to be around when the revolution starts.” Maximilien raised an eyebrow. Camille cocked his head. “We’ve been discussing the inevitability of one for years. The Americans did it. They were fed up and they did something about it. We all know it’s only a matter of time before it happens. Danton, a friend of mine back in Paris, you really ought to meet him someday, believes it will happen soon as well.” Maximilien sighed and nodded. Camille was right, a fact he usually hated to admit. Even Arras and its surrounding small towns were rife with talk of forcing change on the country. Even at school, many years ago, the general consensus had been that reforms, real, meaningful reforms were due any year.

“You’re right, of course,” agreed Maximilien. “What better way to help people than to play an active part in achieving their will. I do hope that our ‘revolution’, as you are so fond of calling it, is more civil than the American’s though. What good can come to the people if we must wage war against ourselves?”

“Someday when the two of us are famous and well known from all the good we’ve done for France people will print little books, like those books with bible verses in them or short prayers, but instead they’ll be filled with quotes by you. You’ll have to start saying things like that all the time and hope that I don’t start selling a separate one with all your naughty quotes from Louis le Grand in it.”

“Unlike you Camille, I see no fame or fortune in my future in relation to politics.”

“If you say so Maxime. But I’m not sure how you’re going to help all of France if that’s the case."

[theanarik]

WILLEX - BLIND DATES

Title: Blind dates

Summary: 5 times Alex went on a blind date, and 1 time he met the boy.

Rated: T and up audiences because of language

Also on ao3

This story is subject to changes from part 2 on because my betaboy hasn’t come back to me with the notes. But i was too eager.

Beta: Golden Retriever. Best boy ever 💖

Alex loves his parents. They’ve always been supportive of him and his dreams, as well as his career path (studying to become a music teacher did not sit very well with his dad, but he was still helping him pay college). Alex also loves his brothers something fierce. They’re all off doing their own thing, starting their own families or studying a new degree or something other; he’s not keeping up with them much, but they’re good. Alex loves his family a lot, he does, it’s just that sometimes it feels like they don’t love him back, at least not the same amount.

When he was little, he used to hide behind his mom’s legs when his brothers were teasing or bullying him, always laughing at him because he was a “momma’s boy” (although if he’s being honest now, Alex thinks that maybe they were jealous because their mom always favorited him); but growing up, and growing distant from them and their parents, made him realize a couple of things on his own. First, when he was 14, he realized that boys were starting to talk about girls in the "isn’t-she-pretty-?" type of way, and Alex could – objectively – see it, but he wasn’t really sure how to participate on that conversation.

Second, when a new boy, Luke, joined his class halfway sophomore year, he realized that boys could be pretty too, but he really didn’t feel sure about sharing that one with anyone. He befriended Luke when he discovered that he had a passion for guitars, and Alex told him that he played the drums. Alex has never seen Luke’s eyes shine the way they did in the six years of knowing him ever again.

Third, at 16 years old, Alex realized that he may have had a tiny crush on Luke since he met him, but he was obviously not going to do anything about it because he was straight and straight boys don’t have crushes on other boys. Right? (The fourth thing, he later realized is that he might be gay).

Perhaps discovering himself was a journey full of changes – and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t like change much –, but there was a moment that made him realize that the love his parents had for him was… conditional. One afternoon, after coming back from church, his parents were talking about Juliet, their neighbor, about how her son had recently come out as gay, and how devastated she must have felt. The boy was not living with them anymore, Alex had heard. How awful must have been for her, Alex had heard clearly. "Well, he’s not our son, he can do and be as gay as he wants as long as it’s not one of ours", Alex had heard and could not stop hearing.

He didn’t eat dinner that night.

Alex knew what coming out to his parents could do to their relationship. He knew that his mother would cry, that his father would yell or maybe kick him out of the house; he knew that once the words were out of his mouth, there was no going back.

One night, during dinner and while his brothers were visiting, Alex couldn’t take it anymore. They were talking non-stop, rambling and talking and talking about how they wanted grandchildren, about how they wanted them to each find a nice girl each and settle after school. Alex had felt his heart beating faster and faster as the words left their mouths, felt a drum on his hears when his brothers laughed, felt his hands trembling and sweating as he tried to grab his glass. Felt the world stop when it broke.

“I’m gay.”

Two little words, said in a soft, afraid tone, and the table was silent.

“No, you’re not,” his father had said, like it had been rehearsed many, many times before, and continued with the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Nobody looked at him as he stood up to grab a swift and the dustpan, nobody checked up on him when he cut his hand picking up the little pieces of glass. Nobody said anything as he started to cry.

Alex loved his parents, but after coming out he realized his parents loved him as long as he was whatever they wanted him to be.

1

Alex has gone on dates with a lot of different people because he doesn’t really have a type. He even dated Luke (which was a weird, self-discovery time he doesn’t really want to repeat). Alex has gone on dates with boys who knew they were gay, with boys who were discovering themselves and with boys who didn’t want to label themselves just yet. He’s had boyfriends and partners here and there, but they never lasted more than the six months mark. Alex is starting to think he’ll never find anyone and that he’ll die alone. He’s only 21.

His mother calls him on his birthday as usual, wishes him happy birthday with a strained voice – the one she’s been using since he was 17 –, and then tells him excitedly that she met this beautiful girl down the pier, she was singing with her best friend and she played the piano; she tells him that she’d be perfect for him and, "oh, Alex, don’t you want to meet her?"

Alex sighs, it’s been 4 years since he came out and his mother still tries to deny it. He’s never gone on a date his family’s set up and he wonders if maybe, just maybe, if he goes on a blind date with a girl, like his mom wants him to, and then says that it didn’t work, she’ll calm down a little bit. Ruffling his hair and massaging his eyes, he lets out:

“Sure, mom, I want to meet her.”

There’s silence on the other line as Alex waits for her answer. There’s a squeal and a "oh, that’s great, son! and you’ll love her! Her name is Julie, and you should meet her at…"

And that’s how Alex finds himself at Eats and Beats at 11 a.m., a good two hours after his morning classes have ended, waiting for one Julie. He’s been checking his phone for the past ten minutes, hoping against hope that Julie doesn’t show up. He doesn’t really know how the girl looks, his mom only told him that she had beautiful milk-chocolate skin – Alex immediately reacting to that comment with a discreet grimace and yes, Alex did pull a face at that –, dark curly hair, and a "you’ll now when you see her." Well, Alex doesn’t know if he’s seen her.

11:05 a.m., and no Julie. Alex wonders how long he has to wait until he can say that she didn’t show up. 15 minutes per hour just like his classes? He’s counting how long a “straight date” is supposed to last when someone clears their throat beside him.

“Hi, are you Alexander Mercer?” a girl with "milk chocolate" brown skin and dark, curly hair says. She’s pretty and, for some reason, Alex feels somewhat at ease when she smiles at him. He’s sure he’s seen her somewhere. “I’m Julie Molina.”

“Hi, Julie!” Alex says, offering his hand for her to shake. She looks at him weirdly for a second, but she shakes it, nonetheless, sitting in front of him. “And, please, call me Alex. Alexander makes me feel like I’m being scolded by my mom.”

Julie chuckles and asks him how his day’s been going. They talk for almost 20 minutes about their classes (to Alex's surprise, Julie’s also a Music major!) and then they stay quiet for a few seconds, Julie’s happy look turning concerned by the second.

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something, Alex.”

“Okay…?

“I already like someone else.” She says, rushing then to say, “you seem like a great guy! And you’re very attractive, but you’re not really my type. I’m sorry.”

Alex stays quiet for a couple of seconds, staring at Julie, surprised. He blinks once, twice, and then he chuckles. “Oh, thank god.”

“What?”  As the tables have turned, Julie now being the onethen it’s her turn to be confused.

“I’m sorry, Julie. I’m gay. I’m only here to appease my mother a little bit.”

“Oh.” She laughs happily and continues, “does your mother not know you’re gay?”

“Oh, she knows. It’s just taking her a bit of adjusting.” He tells her, and that seems to calm her initial scandalized expression. “So, who is this person you like?” She looks at him funnily and Alex chuckles. “I need to know who you’re leaving me for.”

“Do you know Luke Patterson?”

“Been there, done that.”

“He’s like, really good with the guitar and-. I’m sorry, what?” she says with a confused smile.

Alex feels his heart starting to beat faster by the second. Julie doesn’t look upset, but she doesn’t look happy either and Alex wonders if he fucked up.

“I mean!” he tries to explain. “It was a really long time ago, when we were teenagers? He’s my best friend, so of course I know him, you like him?” Alex says, his tone going increasingly higher as he tries to explain his relationship with Luke.

“Alex, calm down,” Julie says, trying not to smile. “Yeah, I like him… we have a couple of classes together, one with Mrs. Harrison?”

“Oh.” Then realization comes. “Oh. You’re that Julie!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“… Nothing.” Alex avoids looking at Julie altogether, focusing on looking at his hands, his coffee, the tabletop, the wall.

“Alexander…” she says, and Alex feels like he’s being scolded by his mom. He looks at her for a split second: her eyebrows are up, her eyes are disbelieving and her mouth is down. Alex groans, he can’t help it.

“Let’s just say that you have a chance with him, okay. That is all I’m gonna say!” He rushes when he notices her opening her mouth.

“Are you sure?” she asks him, softly, and Alex now understands that he doesn’t need to like girls to get why Luke likes Julie.

“Yeah. You’re good. You’ll probably have to ask him out yourself, though. He’s pretty stupid when it comes to something other than his guitar.”

Julie laughs, says that she’s noticed and offers a piece of Luke’s own brand of stupidity during classes. Alex laughs with her and shares some stories of Luke when they were in high school.

When Alex goes back home to grab his other best friend, Reggie, and drag him to have lunch with him, Alex receives a text from his mother asking him how the date went. Alex answers quickly telling her that Julie was very nice, but that she liked someone else, he adds a sad emoji just for fun. He turns off his phone the moment they pass the threshold.

2

Alex should have known that accepting to go on one blind date would end up in him being set up by his friends. Luke, Reggie and the new addition to their friend group, Julie and Flynn, decide to set him up with four different people to try and date. And no, he doesn’t get a say in this. Alex has tried to explain how he went on a date with Julie only to please his mother, and that that was it, but none of them really listen to him.

Friday afternoon finds him back in Eats and Beats, sitting on the same booth he was at when he met Julie. This time, Flynn’s the one who set him up with someone. He’s supposed to be one of her acquaintances’ cousin, he’s already graduated and is working as a vet somewhere nearby. Alex has never seen a vet clinic near Sunset Boulevard, but he’ll give the benefit of the doubt to the other man.

Alex’s been starring at the wall for a while when someone sits down in front of him. He turns to look at the man, recognizing him from the pictures Flynn sent him.

“Hi, I’m-.”

“Alex, I know,” the man interrupts him, and Alex raises his eyebrows.

“Okay. And you’re Bobby?”

“No. Trevor. Bobby’s my brother but he couldn’t come. Had more important things to do.”

“Okay?” Alex is starting to get a little upset with the man. He frowns, looks at the time and says: “Look, man, I was waiting to meet Bobby. So, if you can tell him to text me if he wants to meet, that’d be great. I’m gonna go.”

Trevor rolls his eyes at him and murmurs a low “whatever”. Alex wants to punch the guy. He walks up to the counter, orders another coffee to go and walks up to his apartment.

“Hey, Lexy,” Luke greets him from the kitchen. “What happened?”

“Dude didn’t even show up, sent his brother instead to say he had ‘more important things to do’. So, I left.”

“Ugh, dude, that sucks. Go shower and come back in 20 minutes, I’m making pizza.”

“You’re the best.”

“Can you say that to Julie, please?”

Alex laughs at him for a couple of seconds, trying to ignore the pout on Luke’s face. It’s not like he really wanted to go on a date anyway.

3

“Hey, bro” Luke says, smiling apologetically.

“Luke?” Alex says confused. “What are you doing here, man?”

“I’m your date!”

Alex has never experienced war flashbacks before, but the time he “dated” Luke comes back with full force. The awkward kisses, the sneaking around, the hand holding and, oh god, the hand jobs.

Luke sits down in front of him, still smiling, and Alex wants to run away from him.

“Dude, you’re my best friend and I love you, but never again.”

Luke laughs, then he seems to catch onto what Alex just said and kicks him under the table. “You’re a dick.”

“You know what they say, you are what you eat.”

“Alexander!”

“Lukas!”

Luke glares at him for a couple of seconds, mumbling “my name is Luke” before bursting out laughing, making everyone near their vicinity look at them.

“So, why’re you here? I thought you said you were asking someone from your Poetry class?”

“Yeah… so there was a bit of miscommunication with that one.”

“… he thought you were asking him out.”

“He thought I was asking him out.” Luke says with a nod, “and I didn’t want you to keep waiting here alone so I came! Wanna watch a movie?”

“You’re not going to kiss me like last time, right?”

“Nope! I won’t even hold your hand.”

“Then, let’s go.”

4

Contrary to popular believe, Alex does have friends outside of his band (he has a band now! How cool is that!?), and yeah, it’s mostly the people who he has classes with but! They’re his friends too and they, somehow, have decided that he needs a boyfriend. Alex is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, his friends a little bit too meddle-y.

Nick, his project partner, says that he knows the perfect guy for him, and Alex is kind of getting tired of hearing that phrase. The problem here is that Nick didn’t tell him any name, didn’t share with him any pictures, he didn’t share anything about the other person and Alex is getting anxious. In past occasions, Flynn, Luke and even his mom had shared a picture, a description or the name of the person he was meeting, just so he could feel a little bit in control of the situation; he even rejected some of the people Julie showed him before she gave up.

Alex has checked the time ten times now and it’s still stuck on 3:45 p.m. His date was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, and Alex has not seen anyone come inside the restaurant for about ten minutes now. Alex has taken to count the jars on top of the table – there are five: salt, pepper, toothpicks, hot sauce and something else he doesn’t really want to check out –. When he’s memorized the jars’ order, Alex tries to focus on the stains on the table; there’s one with the shape of a puppy!

His last attempt at grounding himself is the 5 to 1 strategy he read on the internet. He starts by listing the first 5 things he can see, starting by the puppy stain. He then looks at the jars on the table, the window to his left, the waitress walking past him and…

“Reggie!” Alex says, almost yelling. Reggie turns to look at him and frowns when he catches the, probably, frantic look on his face.

“Hey, man!” Reggie says sitting down in front of him, smiling reassuringly. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m supposed to be on a blind date, but I have no idea who this person is, and before you say anything, he’s not here yet.”

“Well, that is the general idea of the blind date, yes.”

“That’s not what I-. Okay.”

“Well, I’m supposed to meet someone here too. My friend Nick set me up with this-.”

“Wait, Nick?” Alex interrupts, starting to feel his blood rush to his face. “Nick Danforth-Evans?”

“Yeah, the very same!” Reggie smiles at him brightly. “Cool dude, you know him?”

“Oh god.”

Alex realizes what’s going on a few seconds before Reggie does, hiding his face on his hands and groaning. He should’ve seen it coming. Nick has been talking for weeks about a new friend he made at the puppy shelter where Reggie volunteers. He should’ve seen it coming from a mile afar.

“Oh.” Reggie says and he sounds a little bit disappointed. “Well, now that we’ve realized we’re both each other’s dates, and there’s no chemistry whatsoever, no offence-.”

“None taken.”

“Wanna grab street dogs?”

“I’m not sure, Reg-.”

“Relax! Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

Famous last words.

5

After getting out of the hospital for a really bad case of food poisoning, his mom insists on him staying at home a couple of days before going back to school and Alex loves his mom, he really does, but he’s come to associate home to the apartment he shares with Luke and Reggie, and occasionally Julie when she stays. He doesn’t really want to stay with his parents. Managing to escape her hold, Alex promises he’ll go on another date with a girl she picks, and he wonders if it was a whole plot to get him to agree to it after she let him go. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter, and he forgets about it for a couple of weeks until he receives a call from his mother telling him that she found that Carrie Wilson, “lovely girl, Alex, is single and that he’s going on a date with her, and please try?”

“Mom, but Carrie is-.”

“Beautiful, I know, but I think you have a shot.”

“I mean, sure, she’s pretty but she’s also-.”

“Don’t you dare say that she’s out of your league, baby.”

“… That is not what I was going to say.”

“Then it’s settled! You’re going on a date with Carrie!” Alex stops listening when she starts talking about cute, blond grandchildren.

The day of the date, Alex thinks that Carrie’s not going to come to the café. She’s running late and if there’s something he knows about her is that she values time too much. After half an hour, Carrie enters the café, scans rapidly for him, and walks straight to his table, sitting down gracefully as she flips her hair.

“You’re going to help me get together with Flynn.”

“Hello to you too, Carrie. How are you in this fine afternoon?”

“Tired, I just came from a Dirty Candy rehearsal. Alex, I need you to help me, Flynn hates me.”

“Alright, Wilson, but only if you let me rehearse with you guys.”

“Deal.”

Oh, yeah, mom, I forgot to tell you. Carrie’s a raging lesbian and she’s been out for a while now. No blond grandchildren for you.

+1

Alex has decided to stop going on blind dates. He won’t even look at the pictures his friends have for him because he’s just not doing that anymore. He hasn’t met a single person who he has spoken more than a sentence to without feeling uncomfortable. He’s just leaving Eats & Beats after signing the band up (Julie and the Phantoms, “tell your friends!”) for an Open Mic night. He’s happily answering texts on his group chat when he’s promptly ran over by someone.

The next thing he knows he’s on the floor, his to-go coffee is now all over the sidewalk, his hands burn a little bit, but he’s overall okay. There’s a person lying beside him that moves all too quickly to stand up and say:

“Aw, man, you dinged my board!”

Alex blinks twice while standing up, feeling anger starting to bottle up on his chest.

“I dinged your board!? Dude, you ran me over! You’re lucky I didn’t-.”

His mind goes blank for a couple of seconds when his eyes land on the man in front of him, adverting his eyes as he tries to process what just happened. The man in front of him is a little shorter than him, and it’s looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Y-you ran me over.” Alex stammers and mentally kicks himself as the other takes his helmet off, slowly, and flips his hair back, showing him a piercing on his right ear.

Oh god.

“Sorry. I thought you heard me” he answers and then smiles, and Alex’s heart does summersaults. “I’m Willie, by the way.” Willie offers him his hand and Alex shakes it.

“Alex.”

“So, Alex, what are you doing in Hollywood, man? Taking a picture with that Marilynn girl?” Willie wiggles his eyebrows and clicks his tongue; Alex wants to laugh.

“Uh, no. I was actually signing us up for an Open Mic night at Eats and Beats.”

“Who’s us?” Willie asks with a little pout, bouncing on his feet. Alex thinks he’s cute.

“Oh, my bandmates and me. We’re a new band and we’ve been playing gigs here and there.”

“That’s cool, man. What’s your band’s name?”

“Julie and the Phantoms,” Alex answers and continues after a beat. “Tell your friends.”

Willie smiles and then turns to look past him, frowning. Alex turns around and realizes – again – that his coffee lays on the sidewalk, completely gone. Alex sighs and bends down to grab the cup, finding a nearby trash can to throw it.

“No coffee for me.” Alex murmurs to himself, drying his hands a little bit on his pants.

“I did pancake you, huh?” Willie says smiling and Alex chuckles. “Sorry again, though. Come on, I know the best coffee place, I’ll buy you another one.”

“Really? Uh, okay, yeah. Sure.” Alex answers, trying not to seem too eager.

“Cool! You just gotta keep up.” Willie tells him while putting on his helmet again and starting to skate away.

Alex runs after him not long after and catches up with Willie right before he goes skating into traffic. Willie laughs a little, getting off of his board and grabbing Alex’s wrist to make him cross the street running. A couple of blocks of running later, Willie stops in front of a coffee shop Alex has never seen before: The Hollywood Coffee Club.

“Come on,” Willie says, opening the door for him.

One cup of coffee turns into two, which then turn into three. Alex spends his whole afternoon talking and laughing with Willie, talking about their lives, their dreams, their hobbies. Alex talks about the band, and how he thinks they’ll make it big someday, and Willie promises to go to their next gig at Eats and Beats. Willie tells him that skating is the most freeing thing he’s ever done, that he met Tony Hawk once and signed one of his boards, and that he’s working towards his master’s degree.

Alex learns that Willie is three years older than him, that he’s studying because he’s not really sure what else to do with his life, and well, his dad offered to pay for it. Willie learns that Alex has two brothers, that drums is the most anxiety-relieving thing he’s ever done, and that he’s afraid of graduation.

Once Alex realizes the time – 7:45 p.m. – Willie and he decide to get out of the coffee shop and walk down the pier. Somewhere along the way Willie grabs his hand and links their fingers, and Alex’s head blanks for the second time in the day before continuing with the conversation. Once they reach the beach, Willie tells him that he lives nearby the university and, “would you wanna come watch a movie or something?”

Willie rambles about how the dorms for post-graduate students are individuals and that the dorm is small, but it’s cozy.

“We could watch the movie and order takeout? But it’s okay if you don’t want to!”

“Willie,” Alex interrupts him smiling. “I’d love to.”

Willie smiles again and Alex feels his heart wanting to get out of his ribcage. Once they reach the dorm room, Alex shoots a quick text on the group chat letting his friends know where he is, and also that he’s probably not coming home.

Alex🥁: on a date. See you guys tomorrow.

His phone immediately starts vibrating and he decides to put it on silent, stuff it on his pocket and forget about it until later.

“Hey, Alex!” Willie calls him from the small en suite bathroom. “Do you want pizza or like, Mexican?”

“Pizza’s fine by me.”

“Awesome.”

Alex smiles to himself as Willie gets out and starts calling the pizza place. Willie sits down beside him on the bed, already logging on Netflix, turning to look at him with a soft smile. As he hangs up, Alex decides to be bold and kiss Willie on the cheek, feeling relieved as he gives him the brightest smile he’s ever seen.

Alex’s really glad none of his blind dates worked out, and finally decides to flip off the version his parents decided to create of himself on their heads. He likes this version of him better, the one he is with Willie.

Tagging: @netflixaddictedd @headheartbellarke @tiriansjewel @justaphantomband @phanhowell @sunshine-julie-molina thanks for waiting!!!

[in-tua-deep]

i love the unviable au an unhealthy amount, could you elaborate a little more on how they stop the apocalypse?

HMM. Well. They wake up, and Team Apocalypse is a go. Five absolutely insists that they get Vanya on the team, and he absolutely wants Vanya to know he’s alive. Well, present at least.

(Ben - Ben retreated from the world, after he died. He didn’t want the others to know. He wanted them to grieve and let him go. Besides. With how the rest of the family treated Klaus after - after everything

after Five. After Five vanishing and the drugs and Ben’s death and Klaus’s spiral that no one seemed to care enough to pull him out of. Klaus was the only sibling that could see Ben, and Klaus needed him. Needed him in a way that none of the rest of the family did. 

Ben didn’t ask Klaus to tell them others about him. Klaus figured that no one would believe him anyway.)

Klaus in hemming and hawing but Five isn’t exactly Ben, is he? He can interact with the world, in his own limited way. He can write. He could do this with or without Klaus.

But no one else needs to know, probably.

(Five doesn’t think much about how Team Apocalypse is going to be comprised of mostly people who he didn’t find dead on the ground. The only one he saw dead is Klaus, and isn’t that funny? To Klaus, a solid half of the team is dead.

To Five, only Klaus is.)

So Klaus and Ben and Five get up in the morning, and Five says that they Have To Find Vanya. Except Vanya’s not in the house, she’s gone back to her own apartment because she has stuff to do and a life to live.

(Somewhere, the Commission is getting antsy. Klaus heads towards Vanya’s apartment, and that’s not supposed to happen. Vanya is supposed to be isolated. Something is changing the timeline, and they aren’t sure what.

So they send some investigators. Their best. Hazel and Cha-Cha are deployed.)

So they go to the apartment. Klaus awkwardly knocks on the door and it swings open and there’s Vanya blinking at him in the way she always does. 

“Vanya!” Klaus cheers, and leans forward to wrap her in a hug, because he is a very touchy-feely person and he had to watch as Five and Ben got all the hugs last night. 

“Klaus?” Vanya says, sounding confused, but she lets her brother in. She watches him with wary eyes, and Klaus feels his heart break a tiny bit but - he’s known to his siblings, as a thief and a magpie. 

“Do you want... some tea?” Vanya asks awkwardly, shuffling towards her kitchen, “I have uh. I have a lesson soon, but I mean, uh...”

That’s about the time when Five loses patience from where he’s been telling Klaus to Say Something and starts picking up couch cushions and throwing them. 

“Uh.” Klaus says, staring, from Vanya’s point of view, into space. In actuality he’s looking at Five who is behaving like an absolute gremlin.

(Klaus is reminded, all over again, of how young his brother looks. Is. How old Five was when he died.)

“Do you want to explain what’s going on, Klaus?” Vanya asks tightly.

“Five is really impatient.” Klaus blurts out, and then covers his mouth because oops.

“Five?” Vanya says loudly, and Five rattles a cabinet in confirmation.

“Uh.” Klaus looks at Ben. Ben shrugs, because lets be honest they weren’t able to control Five when they were younger either, they have no chance now.

“Wait,” Vanya says, pale as milk, “So yesterday, in the courtyard...”

“Yup!” Klaus says cheerfully, putting on his best grin, “Aw, you know, a broken calendar is right twice a year and all that!”

“That’s not the saying.” Five informs him, flopping dramatically onto the couch.

“It was almost the saying.” Ben says sympathetically.

Klaus valiantly ignores them. 

“Five is... here?” Vanya asks, her eyes scanning the apartment.

“On the couch, like he owns the place the little shit.” Klaus tells her.

Vanya stares at the seemingly empty couch for a moment, and after a few beats of silence, she just says “I’m going to go ahead and cancel that lesson.”

(Somewhere, somewhen, the Commission’s hackles all go up in alarm as Harold Jenkins frowns down at his phone and wonders if he should try his luck and go to the apartment anyway.)

Later, when Ben has Five distracted trying to teach him to pick something up, Klaus talks quietly to Vanya.

“Van, he’s - he’s so little.” Klaus tells her, voice a little too thick, “He looks - he’s exactly the same as when he left. He’s so tiny, and he’s still in that fucking uniform. He’s so tiny and I can’t stand it.”

And Vanya wraps her arms around her brother. She and Klaus have never been close, not even when they were little, but they’re both outsiders. They’re both rejects. And there’s a certain sort of kinship in that.

“I wish I could see him, too. See them, too.” She whispers, because telling her about Five also means telling her about Ben.

And Klaus could say a million things to that. Could snarl and tell her to be careful what she wished for, because alongside Ben and Five came a hundred million nightmares that rattle around Klaus’s head every time he’s too sober to ignore them. 

But he looks over as Five slaps at Ben’s shoulder to get his attention and then guide his hands over to the apple they have settled in between them as their test subject. 

And then he looks at Vanya, and he says - “Yeah, me too.”

And then there’s a knock on the door.

“Shit.” Vanya says, swearing. “I left a message but - it’s probably my student. Just. Lay on the couch and look miserable or something.”

Klaus is very good at acting, sort of. So he immediately drapes himself across the couch and groans dramatically, adding in a cough for good measure. 

Vanya rolls her eyes, and opens the door to apologize to whatever child was supposed to have a lesson and - 

Oh. Not a child. An adult. She blinks, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?”

“Hi!” The man greets, smiling at her. Not too many people smile at her like that. “I’m here for the lesson? I know, I know. I’m a bit older than your usual clientele - ”

Klaus coughs loudly and Vanya winces, “I’m sorry.” She says, cutting the man off, “I tried to leave a message - I’ve had an emergency come up and I’m not able to do lessons today.”

“Oh, but - ” The man starts, and Vanya suddenly feels someone push on the door as if to close it. She manages to catch it, but considering there’s no one there, well.

“I’m very sorry.” She says firmly, using one hand to bat through the air behind the door to shoo who she assumes is Five away. “If you send me your availability, I’d be happy to reschedule.”

“That would be really great.” The man says, nodding. “Do you think you’d be free tomorrow? It’s just - I’d really like to get started, you know?”

The door rattles again and Vanya winces, “I’m not sure. If it’s urgent I can, uh, send you the information for another teacher. I really am sorry about this.”

“I’ll call later then.” The man says, “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not a problem.” Vanya says automatically, “Have a good day.” 

And then she closes the door, and turns around to frown at Klaus, “Tell Five to quit, I had that handled.”

“You know, I only have to translate his responses to you.” Klaus points out, sitting up and swiping a hand across the back of his mouth, “Like, he has ears.”

“Five, I had that handled. You didn’t need to be pushing on the door.” Vanya says to the room at large, her hands on her hips. 

“Five!” Klaus says loudly, sounding very scandalized, “Why! We oughtta wash your mouth out with soap!”

Vanya gives him a critical look, “I’m not sure whether you’re saying that to get him into trouble or if he’s actually swearing. Either way, we should probably talk.”

“Five says to clear your schedule for the week.” Klaus says scooting over on the couch and giving it an inviting pat, “You’re officially recruited for team apocalypse.”

“Me?” Vanya asks, completely confused. And why shouldn’t she be? None of her siblings have willingly recruited her for anything before. Forget being the last kid picked for team sports, Vanya wasn’t even on the list. 

Klaus’s eyes soften, because even if Vanya wasn’t on the list, Klaus was still the last picked kid. “Five insists. Loudly.”

And Vanya smiles. It’s wobbly, but it’s there, because she’s been leaving out peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches and leaving the lights on since she was a kid, grieving for the one sibling who was on her side. And here he is. Refusing to ignore her. Picking her for the team. 

Of course the apocalypse can’t happen the same way, because Vanya isn’t isolated. She’s part of Team Apocalypse.

Instead of nagging at her about Leonard, Allison sighs and tells say that she loves Klaus as well but... he’s Klaus. He’s probably going to rob her the moment her back is turned and all that. He’s still their brother, and it’s nice that Vanya is hanging out with him but...

And Vanya bristles, because yeah Klaus is the family fuck up but he’s their brother. She’s the family wallflower, the odd man out, the freak. So she and Allison still fight, and Allison still insists that she’s just looking out for Vanya and Vanya insists that she’s never needed Allison to look out her before now -

An important thing of note.

Five doesn’t have the eyeball.

Five knows what it looks like, he probably had it in his apocalypse nest and poked at it when he was stuck on an equation. He knows that color it is. He probably memorized its serial number. He doesn’t have the physical eye.

Klaus is still chaotic as fuck, but Vanya adds a certain sense of... level headedness to the team. And despite everything, Klaus is actually fairly efficient... when he wants to be. 

Vanya has the exhausted “I don’t want to be here any more than you do” look to her that inspires some measure of sympathy from overworked desk ladies so they probably get the info about the eye not existing yet without all the... extra drama.

Now. Hazel and Cha-Cha aren’t hunting someone down. They’re investigating. So they don’t burst in gun blazing, they’re basically stalking Vanya in an effort to figure out both What Changed and how to isolate her.

I know what you’re thinking. But what about Griddys? Do the squad not know about the commission agents trailing them?

Well, after the whole eye escapade, Klaus is hungry. He fondly recalls food an ex used to make with Vanya and she smiles and marvels at how different their lives are. And then, because she’s suddenly a little nostalgic, she offers to take him to the one restaurant they went to as kids.

Griddys.

So they go, and Ben and Five are there are well, and Klaus probably insists on getting them waffles as well (“it’s lunch time Klaus” “waffle time is ALL the time Vanya”) so they’re sitting there eating

and of course Cha-Cha and Hazel are stalking them. And why be careful and hide their faces. The Hargreeves don’t know them. They can just blend in as two ordinary people, eating lunch.

Except there’s the one little ghost who can. Five spots them, and immediately freaks out because those are ASSASSINS and he never did figure out what role Vanya played and What If They’re There To Kill Her

So he frantically informs Klaus, and Klaus whispers to Vanya, and Five tells them they need to get the hell out of dodge. ESPECIALLY Vanya. 

And this is Vanya’s life now, so she sneakily tucks money under her plate (because she isn’t dining and dashing Klaus, jesus) and smiles at Klaus and goes to the backroom, where she shimmies out the window.

Klaus stuffs the remainder of his waffle in his mouth and grimaces at his hands and goes to the bathroom as well, except he diverts and goes out the back entrance where he meets Vanya in the alley and they both scarper. 

“I can totally talk you through stealing a car.” Five says eagerly, “I saw like, loads of commission agents hotwire a care. I totally know what I’m doing.”

“Fucking sweet.” Klaus says, nodding. “Pick out a ride then, little man.”

“Absolutely not.” Vanya says, having gleaned enough from Klaus’s words to understand, “We are not stealing a car, jesus. If we need a ride, I can always... I don’t know. Call a cab.”

“The little dude has a point.” Klaus says, “Calling a cab isn’t exactly uh, you know. Conducive to a quick getaway.”

Vanya frowns.

“We could steal Diego’s car.” Ben offers, because secretly Ben is also very chaotic.

“Diego’s car.” Klaus agrees with wonder.

“We’re going to get stabbed, aren’t we.” Vanya sighs, putting her face in her hands. It’s not a question.

(And meanwhile in the diner, Cha-Cha realizes that the targets are gone and checks outside, and Hazel gets to chat with the lovely owner. Agnes. What a lovely name, huh?)

Honestly the whole au sort of ends up being like. The Klaus and Vanya show against the siblings while Five and Ben work together in the background and Five causes, you know, absolute chaos. And also gets lots of hugs. Ben and Five get lots of hugs in this au. 

Klaus still gets kidnapped. Not because they want to get Five, but because they want to isolate Vanya. Well, not just that. They’d just kill him if that was it. They also want to know - what changed. What made Klaus seek Vanya out. What changed the timeline.

And Five can move things. Five can write on things. So he sees Klaus get kidnapped and follows him, figured out where he is, tells Ben to look after Klaus, and goes back to Vanya. He grabs a sharpie, and scrawls the address on the closest available surface, and hey if Vanya just happens to be fighting with Diego about the car...

“What the FUCK.” Diego demands.

“Fuck.” Vanya says, looking at the address. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, Diego, are you in?”

“In what?” Diego demands, scrubbing a finger over the sharpie that has popped up on the windows of his fucking car.

“Rescuing Klaus.” Vanya says, looking braver than she feels.

“Klaus can deal with his own shit.” Diego growls.

“Okay.” Vanya says, and of course she’s alone, she’s always been alone in this fucking family -

“Where are you going.” Diego asks, jogging up to her, “I don’t know what the fuck he’s gotten himself into, but you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Then I guess I’ll get to see Klaus either way.” Vanya bites out, “And the family will have rid itself of another problem, huh? Win win all around.”

Diego swipes a hand over his face and swears, “Fuck just, fuck. Okay. Okay, fine. We’ll go drag Klaus’s ass out of the fire. And then you are going to explain exactly what the fuck happened to my car.”

“Deal.” Vanya says, already in the passenger seat and buckling in with determination. 

Safety first, bitch.

So they go to the hotel. They bust in. They manage to get away. And Klaus manages to get his hands on the briefcase.

“Klaus, wait - no!” Five screams, and Klaus opens the suitcase and vanishes.

(But Five was touching Klaus, was trying to grab his arm to pull him away, terrified and incapable of helping because he’s intangible. Five gets to go with on this side trip to Vietnam.)

And then a light flashes, and there’s Klaus, and Five, and - some random dude.

“I thought you were joking.” Dave hollers, staggering backwards and staring at the suitcase like it’s going to jump up and bite him.

(Five is impatient, and irritable, and wants to get home to take care of things and stop the end of the world. Klaus falls head over heels for a soldier, but in the past few days... he’s gotten awfully fond of Vanya. He wants to help her.

By our powers combined, we have a Klaus who is motivated to go home, but also motivated to convince Dave to come with. We end up with... alive Dave.)

(Wow this is one of the few aus I have with alive Dave. Go me.)

“Vanya, Diego, Ben.” Klaus says, beaming, “Meet my boyfriend, Dave!”

“Klaus, I say this with the utmost sincerity.” Vanya deadpans. “But what the fuck.”

“Ben?” Diego demands.

Vanya and Klaus turn to Diego with contemplative looks.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.” Vanya says.

“In my defense I’ve been gone for like, months.” Klaus says. And then pauses meaningfully. “Wait a second, does that mean - ”

A pebble flies and hits Klaus in the face. This does not stop him.

“I’m the oldest sibling!” Klaus yells, preening like a peacock, “Behold, infants! It is I, your eldest brother!”

“Absolutely not.” Diego growls, as Klaus points at thin air. 

“Am so. Physically, I am older than everyone else. Yeah, it’s on technicality. Suck it, Casper.”

“Klaus, stop messing with Five.” Vanya sighs, sounding like this is something she has said before. “You know he can probably kill you.”

“Five?” Diego squawks.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Dave asks, already looking like he’s accepted his fate and life might as well be this weird. 

“The world is ending in five days. Welcome to team apocalypse.” Vanya tells him sympathetically.

“The world is what.” Diego hollers.

“Oh yeah.” Klaus muses, “Forgot to mention that as well.” 

“What is going on!” Diego howls.

“Don’t we all want to know.” Klaus flutters in sympathy.

After that, they decide to convene at Vanya’s apartment and go over what they know, and what they’ve learned.

Team apocalypse gains two (2) members! Welcome to the team, Diego and Dave. 

(Diego didn’t complain to Patch about a missing sibling because he doesn’t know Five is around. Patch doesn’t find a ransom note, because Hazel and Cha-Cha didn’t leave one. Patch doesn’t die, and Diego has no reason to go tearing off in grief and anger and vengeance.)

And that’s more on team apocalypse trying to stop the apocalypse lmao

[sparklyicecube]

Scorching Romance

I JUST FINISHED ONE OF THE BEST MANHWAS EVER AAAAAH

Why you should read it: a review? Suggestion? Anyways.

Name: Scorching Romance

Status: Completed!!!

Length: 90episodes (pretty long but it’s worth it I swear)

Genre: Highschool romance

Quick summary:

‘Cursed girl who is constantly hot meets cursed boy who is constantly cold.’

Ok so:

Despite the ‘cursed’ parts we honestly don’t have magic running rampant in this place besides the fact that our two main characters genuinely feel really hot and cold to the point that Ember (the girl and hot one) can heat stuff up and give burns with body temperature, but mostly it is set in our normal universe. The start of the whole thing is pretty slow-paced with me not really that invested, but not turned off by anything. It gets reaaally action packed eventually and I nearly cried ahahahah.

The author is genius. The characters are honestly not one-dimensional, no matter what the story tries to trick you into believing, and the best part is that they introduce sooooo many characters in but by the time the story ends, there are virtually no loose ends and you are invested in all their stories. They don’t take advantage of misunderstanding nearly as much as they could realistically actually do and it will make you squeal!

I would say the overall theme of the entire thing is forgiveness and owning up. The amount of times someone said sorry for doing something awful and I genuinely believed them, because that ‘sorry’ just held all that weight.

Ten outta ten would recommend!!!

Spoilers from this point on! (I rant about my feelings on it down here)

OKAY SO THEY ARE SO CUTE I SHIPPED THEM SO MUCH AND AAAAAAAAA

I loved the dynamic between them and I love how they ended up being really truthful to each other and Aspen didn’t lie even though he thought about it :...) they’re so sweeeet

I looked at the chapter number when their curses broke the first time and was like waiiiiit. I then also wondered whether the rest would be just fluff scenes (not that I’m complaining) but the author really said “BUCKLE UP IT GONNA GET SERIOUS”

The author put so many references to little things that happened and tied everything together so nicely??? Also Trevor, idk when I started rooting for you but you were real. You and Moxie should get together. (You will never make it as a kpop idol because your bullying scandals) 

I think overall, I really liked how it all came together and ended?? They even had that Rocky dude go with someone else??

The forgiveness/repenting aspect of the entire thing was really amazing. Aspen kept saying ‘sorry’ for so much at the start and throughout, yeah he was genuine but he was also overusing it. Later on, ‘sorry’ became such a powerful word that was used in such serious cases, like when Harry’s grandma cursed Ember or when Monica burned the place down.

Can we talk about Harry???

HARRY is BEST BOY

At the start, even though I knew that it was Aspen and Ember I was like ‘does Harry sorta like Aspen though?’ and low-key shipped it but then he said ‘he’s too good for you’ and there was the whole “I DO NOT LIKE ASPEN” when being bothered by Ember and I think that is actually really sweet. We never get the answer to why he sticks with Ember, well, at least not explicitly, but we definitely know why. 

1. He and Ember were childhood friends, he saw her deteriorate to such a serious state and is willing to stick with her because they’re friends (serious state being both her heat and her temper as he sees how she did actually attempt to be nice to people only to be backstabbed)

2. She’s been there for him when very few people have. When Aunt Monica left him Ember was right next to him, that makes them very close and also feel like they’ve been through a lot, and so are willing to stick to each other more.

Harry not having any romantic interests in Ember or Aspen just makes him so much more appealing, he teases them, is there for them, and we can see how amazing he is and without having any romantic unerlying agendas! Love fuels a lot of stuff in this manhwa but so does platonic love and I love that for him. I also don’t think Megan deserves him, because she is too immature and honestly, still hasn’t figured out love yet. (Especially with the ‘buying him ice cream was worth it’) like GURL have you SEEN his HOUSE he does not need a sugar parent. Even until the end she eats ice cream with him, which just shows she can’t open up to him and she was honestly pretty childish thoughout the whole thing. Either way I love how the author baited us several times with Harry for us all to be like ‘Could it be??’ and then ‘I knew it.”

AMBER AND ASPEN”S RELATIONSHIPPPPP

I love how the whole thing played out to be honest. At the start, I didn’t like Ember’s attitude, or Aspen’s attitude but they both grew so much as people and their character growth through was just so amazing! You could see so many parallel’s where Aspen stands up for himself, where Ember is more restained, it’s *chef’s kiss* amazing!

One of the best bits was when Aspen couldn’t bring himself to lie to Ember, which was what I feared. It seemed like the worst misunderstanding ever but Aspen managed to trust Ember enough and vice versa, showing how far they’ve come. The two of them are now able to banter and converse freely, which both of them trusting in their love and relationship so much! 

Aspen trusting Ember was the bit thing I think, if he couldn’t trust Ember they would keep having these issues, but Ember had grown to be more trustworthy and Aspen had grown to be stronger and have better self-confidence.

At episode 64 or smth where Ember’s curse broke and I thought ‘are they going to have another 30 chapters of just fluff?” (not that I’m complaining), and they didn’t, but the fluff they did have was so cute!!! Also when Ember collasped and hugged Aspen after ‘faking’ a relaspe *sobs* it was so cute :.)

This next part will be a collection of little observations I found (there are probably still more) that I though were super cool!

1) Aunt Monica’s cigareete. We see her throw it as a little thing like a (I’m leaving/I’m outta here) thing when we first find out that she was Harry’s aunt, then we later find out that Harry’s grandma cursed Ember because of a fire from a cigarette butt from him. At that point no one realises what happened yet. Then she has an epiphany when some person from some car throws at her when it’s all dramatic (I thought that was Lucifer or someone going to burn her originally but it was just a random person) and then we find out it was all her! We even find out that the fire happened on the day of her leaving and no one realised! Anyways...

2) Hypnosis. Monica says in her little ‘angels club’ thing that they must wear sunglasses all of the time lest they hypnotise people. I read that, realised that Lucifer was from there, then went ‘wait a second...’ because Lucifer hypnotised Moxie!!! Several times!!! Cool easter egg I love

3) Remembering things. Aspen didn’t remember Monica from when he was so young, only his mom did, because Aspen was 1. Young and 2. Monica didn’t have much of an impression on him. I like it when author’s decide how much people can remember because let’s face it, even when we’re not children we don’t remember what we ate yesterday morning. Also, Ember not remembering that Monica told Harry to think of her as his mom. Same logic, Ember was young and it had waaaay more of an impact on Harry than anything. More than that, Monica left the next day and it would seem like an irrelevant detail technically.

4) Names. I love how they actually tied in names with meanings, it made it so easy to remember the names and it also made it not really weird and obvious (I’m looking at you J.K. Rowling) but integral to the story. One could predict what role they had in the story by their name. Rocky’s name particularly threw me off a bit, because I could tell it was based off the ‘Rocky mountains’ but was unsure of whether that was related to ‘cold water’ and just decided that it was, but it wasn’t as Aspen’s. Making him just ‘water’ was really nice because it gave us reason as to why Ember seemed to be helped by him but also make him just out of the picture as well.

5) The ice storage. Making the bodyguards faint and be cold too, especially wen they didn’t really coma (or at least, the second one) because we knew you had to go in involuntarily to no be in coma, very good detail.

6) Aspen still having the misunderstanding that Ember was up on that roof saving him to this day because it was never disputed. Ever.

There are totally loads more than that but I need to re-read it a few more times to spot them I suppose!

I think the only hing I want more content of in the whole thing is from Aspen’s dad. His guilt after what he heard his son and wife went through, his bonding with Aspen, him and his family, I feel like that was the only thing that was left unfinished and that I’d want to see more of. 

Finishing it off with a- how are you reading this part??? You must really like reading me ramble. Anyway, that might or might not be all from me on Scorhing Romance, I’ve been getting into manhwas lately and especially finished ones (bcs duh) so these rants might come in a bit more frequently but who knows.

Bye!

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 18 OF 22

how intricately love crosses love; love makes knots; love brutally tears them apart. I have been knotted; I have been torn apart.

- Virginia Woolf, the Waves

 --

Her phone receives three calls in the span of an hour.

The first one is from an old friend, who rings to ask her how she’ll feel like being neighbors again. Her friend is planning to apply to the university’s MA program, and that she’ll be dropping by within the next week to submit some requirements for the application. She’s asking if she’s free, and if they could hang out a little before she goes home. She bites the butt-end of the marker in between her teeth as they’re talking, scribbling out onto the date on her calendar tacked to the wall. It’s a great phone call.

The second one is from the school she’s going on exchange to. A lady with a thick (but lovely!) accent tells her that they’ve finished signing the paperwork she needs to submit for her student visa. That the document is in her email, and that they’ve forwarded the hard copy to the Office of Student Relations, saying that she should pick it up at their office by the end of the week. She nods and thanks them as they big goodbye. When the call ends, she flutters with excitement.

It’s that last call that’s a little more troublesome.

“Busy today, aren’t we?” Vincent comments with a small laugh, their little conversation about the finalized date for the exhibit cut short once more as she excuses herself to take the call. She awkwardly grins at him as she heads out of the studio, ducking into the living room.

“Yes?” A beat. “Oh, yes. Yes it’s me.” Silence. The smile that was originally on her face upon recognizing that it’s one of the OSR staff organizing her trip disappears quickly. “Is… that really the only schedule available, sir?” More silence. “Oh, no, that’s not—” a pause. “I see. I’m sorry. Yes, I understand.” She bites her lip, looks across the house through to the kitchen, eyes gluing distractedly onto the unwashed coffee mugs on the sink. “Of course. Yes. Thank you. This is noted. I’m sorry. Yes.”

She puts the phone down. Stares at the “ended call” screen before she looks up again, catching Vincent’s stare from the studio doorway. He smiles at her. She smiles back, but she feels so weak.

She turns back to her phone with a sigh.

--

She has a solution for at least one of the phone calls: the first one. She rings up her friend the next day and proposes a drinking party.

Says she’ll bring her other university friends to introduce to her, and they’ll hang out, then maybe share in the good energy (and the misery) of being in the same university—likely soon, we’re manifesting it!

They agree to crash at a place downtown for the night, everyone pitching in for an Airbnb in the middle of a school week. She invites Dazai, and Isaac, and Arthur; they each invite some other familiar faces, Napoleon, Leonardo, and Sebastian, of course—her friend’s brother.

She doesn’t know if she wants to invite Theo.

Only because it’s been… weird.

She’s sure she wants to invite Vincent, though, and inviting him is tantamount to inviting the other, so she does anyway. But because fate is a cruel tutor, the exact reverse of what she has wanted to happen, happens.

Vincent apologizes profusely, saying he’s in the middle of a rather time-sensitive painting (something about painting while the paint is not entirely dry, and his timer is set to just about tonight) so can she bring Theo instead?

And she knows the drill. Theo does not say no to Vincent.

Theo, of course, could just lie to his brother, a little white lie about coming with her to the little Korean barbecue drinking party they had planned tonight, to introduce her group of friends to her childhood friend, who was in the campus lately because she had applied for an MA in the very same department.

But Theo doesn’t.

He goes with them, just as Vincent had expected him to.

Gets in the small van and listen to Arthur and Dazai sing along to the annoying song on the radio way too loudly, the windows rolled down, she and her friend laughing at the boys making a ruckus, her friend’s quiet, stern-looking older brother focused on driving them out of the campus.

Theo wonders if he should’ve lied, after all.

But he knows that even if he knew that he should’ve, he would have come anyway. Because he knows himself. Knows that he will be lying to everyone else and denying it with his whole chest but in truth, he knows that he is just buying some more time with her. Even if that is time spent sitting at the end of a grill table flipping meat as the rest of the table laughs and makes a cacophony of noises, half-drunk on cheap alcohol. Even if that means just sitting next to her as the long night passes, silent in their fullness, not speaking, not breaking the illusion that everything is alright, that she won’t be leaving him soon, that there’s so much brewing in his chest and he still…

Doesn’t have the courage to tell her a single word of it.

--

Her hands are numb with her nerves, but the night goes… surprisingly well.

She and Theo hang around each other, passing barbecue and utensils, but they do not… have an explosive argument like she feared they would have. She reminds herself that they have nothing to argue about, that nothing had been done wrong. Still, she doesn’t want to make a scene out here. She’d told her friend she was going to introduce her university friends, and a shouting match in an airbnb isn’t exactly what friends do.

Instead, she pretends like nothing is different. Like nothing had changed drastically over the past few days. Teases Arthur and Dazai as they huddle each other and have excessive amounts of PDA that would have been unacceptable if they were actually a couple. (“They get a free pass because they’re fuck buddies?” “Mmhmm, somehow it doesn’t count.” “Who said it doesn’t count?! This is scandalous!” “Arthur did. …Wait a minute.”) Gapes at Sebastian and his very obvious mental hard-on for Napoleon, who is busy discussing with him something about a historical note on food rituals in the 1600s, or something—she really isn’t paying attention. Texts Isaac with a winky face waiting for him to finally get here like he promised he would.

Ignores the one person she wishes she could talk to right now but does not have the courage to.

And just as Theo makes his way out to the porch, maybe to sober up, maybe to get some time to himself, her friend, face already flushed with alcohol, a silly grin plastered on her face, elbows her lightly, “So, which one of these cuties is the one you’re pining for?”

“Give me a minute,” she says, as she gets up on her feet to follow Theo walking away.

--

Somewhere in between pizza and the first two or three rounds of beer, Theo goes out to the terrace for a little bit of silence. He’d expected her three usual suspects to come—Isaac, Dazai, Arthur—but he hadn’t expected a crowd, especially not of people he barely knew. The whiskey that Leonardo guy had handed to him was pretty strong, too. He’s still standing straight, but his mind is already spinning in circles.

On one hand, seeing her act so normal gives him some sort of relief. This is what he wanted for her. He wanted to step back, fold the dog-eared parts of his heart back onto itself so that he doesn’t notice them—the bookmarks of affection he’d left along the edges of their friendship’s pages. And sure, pulling away was a feat on its own, particularly because he knew she was leaving, and that made him want to spend even more valuable time with her, but—

This is better for her. He knows that. He understands that. And he’s willing to give that to her.

Besides, she said so herself. She no longer wants anchors.

But on the other hand, seeing her act so normal, so oblivious when he’s torn himself open to give her peace of mind leaves an undesirable taste in his mouth.

But it’s not like he could tell her.

Theo’s just about downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass when she comes out to the porch, the sight of her face like salt to the wound.

It takes him all his strength to smile.

“Mind some company?” she asks, and he shakes his head, leaning against the barrier carefully. “Too loud inside?”

He laughs. “The whiskey was crazy.”

She nods. “Leonardo has a ridiculous alcohol stash. A wildcard during drinking parties.”

She closes the door behind her and leans against the balcony next to him, taking a deep sigh. She’s close enough to him that Theo can smell the faint citrus of her perfume.

Theo doesn’t know what to say but he knows he wants to talk to her.

“Nice shirt,” he says, eyes trained on the pastel yellow linen of the off-shoulder blouse she’s wearing. “Color suits you.” She smiles—even if it hurts a little—and shrugs to emphasize them when he points it out.

“Thanks,” she says. “Finally the season to wear bright colors, you know.”

In his mind, she is still beige coat and black boots in the middle of fall. But even that feels like an entire lifetime ago. The months have gone by in a haze. Theo begins to feel the weight of regret—of letting it pass by out of his grasp—sink inside his gut.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Theo says off-handedly, eyes turned to the ceiling. “Busy?”

“Yeah,” she says, with a half-sigh that’s dragged out of her. She takes a breath and leans her back against the veranda as well, but she looks downward, instead. At the corner of his eye, he catches her pursing her lips as if choosing what to say. “Paperwork.”

“Welcome to bureaucracy,” he jokes, and the two of them laugh.

But just a little.

As if they both knew they were hiding something else underneath the laughter.

“How’ve you been?”

It’s a simple question. One they’ve asked each other a million times before. One that doesn’t have to feel as heavy as it does right now.

“Okay,” she says, but her voice falters. “Could be better.”

Theo hums. She knows that means me too.

“But it’s going great, you know. For both of us.”

That makes him turn.

“With, with the exhibit, right?” she follows up, caught off guard by his gaze. “And with the scholarship, and you’re on your last class, aren’t you? Pre-thesis?”

“Hopefully,” he says.

She smiles at it. “Will be, I promise,” she says.

For a moment, the two of them stand there next to each other in silence. Which should have been normal and comfortable between them, but today…

Today is different.

With another sigh, she decides to just go for it.

“Can I just… get straight to the point?” she asks, as if cautious.

Theo nods, even when his heart is twisting into knots.

 “Why have you been ignoring me?”

When she says it, it sounds like her voice is crumpling with the weight of the words.

Theo doesn’t dare look at her. Eyes open but still trained at the ceiling, he says, “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

Her face scrunches up, for the briefest of moments, into a potent kind of anger. An expression that clearly spoke then what the hell have we been doing?! without even a word. Then, it dissolves into something gentler, like defeat. “I’m not mad… just tell me if there’s something wrong?”

A plea for help. Theo hates how transparent he’s become to her, over the few months. Theo wonders if she has something she doesn’t have the courage to tell him either.

“Nothing is wrong,” he insists, closing his eyes as if it makes saying it easier. “It’s just been busy. Like you.”

“Then can I ask why you’ve been upset?”

“I haven’t been upset.”

Theo doesn’t like the feeling. The lie is acid in his mouth. He can avoid questions, he can dodge them, he can make up the most convoluted reasons to divert them—but he does not like lying.

He isn’t lying. He’s not upset.

He’s distraught, and that’s not the same thing.

“Arthur says you’ve been out of character.”

Somehow, the idea that she’s been keeping tabs on him doesn’t make him feel any better. “You know how Arthur is.”

“Arthur doesn’t lie.”

Theo quickly snaps, turning toward her with narrowed eyes. It makes her recoil. It’s an ugly feeling. Theo thinks he deserves it. “Are you saying I do?”

With a deep breath, instead of shouting back, she only shakes her head. “I’m not. You don’t.” She bites her lip as she turns her eyes back to the ground. “…though I kind of wish you were.”

“What?”

She doesn’t answer. Not right away, anyway. Theo looks at her and tries to figure out the expression on her face. It contorts, half-pain and half-pity.

He doesn’t know for who.

“I don’t want to leave like this, Theo,” she says after what feels like forever, her voice as fragile as snowflakes. “It’s like I’ve lost you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know where you are. Something happened that made you drifted away. I don’t know what it is. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is. I don’t—do you know how important you are to me?” She pauses, out of breath. When they make eye contact, they both look away. “You are important to me. So if something happened, tell me.”

Nothing ‘happened’, he wants to tell her. Something ‘happening’ implies that there was something that changed the way things are. But nothing changed. It’s always been like this from the start. That she was going to go, and he was going to stay.

Nothing happened, it’s just his stubborn heart refusing to shut up or speak up. He doesn’t know which is worse.

Theo doesn’t want to speak because the last time he had spoken they had fought over the one thing that is the most important to her. He doesn’t want to speak because he doesn’t know what it is that he can say.

She takes his silence as a denial.

“Does this just not mean as much to you as it does to me?”

“You’re my friend,” is what he says. Not an answer, but a response.

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

From the inside, there’s a sound of glasses clinking. Someone must have initiated another shot for everyone. But the cheerful laughter that rolls out the window does not lessen the weight of their conversation.

Maybe it makes it worse.

“Dazai says you don’t want me to go.”

The lilt of her voice says curiosity, not anger. That relieves Theo only the slightest bit.

He doesn’t look at her. “That’s a lie.”

“Then why did it make you so upset?”

“I told you, I’m not upset.”

“Not-upset enough to avoid me for weeks?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Look, Theo, if you just—”

“You want to go away, so go away,” he says, sharply. He doesn’t like where this conversation is going. He doesn’t want to tell her. He doesn’t want to be someone holding her back. Maybe if he tears at the string holding them together hard enough, she’ll be able to sail away.

But what he said only makes her fold even deeper into herself, distress written plain on her face. Like something snapped inside of her. Guilt begins to tear at him, but this is the only way he knows how to do this. It will hurt, but these are only growing pains. “Are you still holding that against me?”

“I’m not holding it against you.”

“Yes, that’s probably exactly why you brought it up,” she says, her voice now louder. “All of that, all those days and weeks together and you’re still clinging on to that conversation at the rooftop, aren’t you? We don’t need to see eye to eye on it, Theo.”

“I agree, we don’t.” Every word she says in that broken voice makes it harder and harder for him to not just tell her the truth, but he knows he can’t. It will cost them both too much. “I’m still allowed to have my thoughts on it.”

“Right, right.” She laughs. A dry sound. “So you would feel bad, then, huh? That I got offered the finishing course? That I’m considering staying there. Forever. Finish my degree there. Maybe work there. Is that it? Are you going to get mad at me for that?”

For what feels like the billionth time tonight, he says: “I’m not mad at you—”

“Do you know how much this hurts?” she interrupts, but this time her voice is small, like it’s hiding in the back of her throat. She could shout at him all night but it’s this tone that makes Theo hurt the most. “I just thought you’d be a little more supporting, you know, you’re my friend, after all, but…”

“I do support you. I won’t be stopping you from leaving,” he says.

“Then why does it hurt?” she blurts, and it’s obvious on the look on her face that she hadn’t meant to. She turns her back to him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She takes a few shuddering breaths in the silence Theo doesn’t dare get in the middle of, and continues, “why did it seem like you were disappointed?”

Theo stops. Genuinely doesn’t know what to say, just stares at her back in front of him, feeling like she’s already disappearing out of his grasp. That if he reaches out to her right now he won’t be able to reach her—so he does, stretching a hand to see if he can still touch her, the soft cotton of her cardigan—

And he does, and it makes her turn toward him, anger in her eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” he says. It’s all he can say. It’s the only truth that his mouth can form a shape around. “I’m very proud of you.”

And somehow—somehow that makes it worse. “Then act like it!” she says, tears already stinging the corner of her eyes. “Don’t just push me away and then expect me to be fine with it.”

“I wanted to give you space and let you focus on what you have to do.”

“I didn’t want to focus you out of my life, Theo!” she says. She looks at him like a wounded beast, pain radiating everywhere. “You don’t get to decide what things I add or cut off from my life, you do know that right?”

The thing is, he could admit right now. Could just tell her that he’s been running himself sick wondering if he should tell her. But he doesn’t want to tell her. Why would he, when all she’s ever really wanted was to go away? Why would he when all she’s wanted was to be free of anything that’s holding her down, and he doesn’t want to be that.

He wants her to go.

He does. Or maybe he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter, because he knows what he has to do.

He’s always been the one that stays.

Which is just a prettier way of saying he’s the one that gets left behind.

Her voice takes him back to the present, the sound of it sinking in his brain.

“Did you ever stop to consider what I’d feel about this?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re my friend, I wanted you to be by my side and—”

“I’m sorry.”

“—it’s not that I couldn’t have done it on my own, but—”

“I’m sorry.”

“—you don’t know what’s going on in my head all the time and I don’t know what goes on in yours,” she says. “Theo, what if I told you I loved you?”

He falters for just a moment, but then he says: “I’m sorry.”

Silence. She looks at him for a long moment, her eyes glassy. No tears fall.

Maybe if they begin to roll down her cheeks, she might just get him to say it.

The tears might get him to hold her face in his hands, wipe the tears away, tell her he loves her too, tell her he still wants her to go.

But before they can, she turns away from him and goes back into the room, shouting as she enters: “Oookay, I’m too sober! Give me some more of that gin!”, and the door closes behind her with a small click.

Theo stands outside on the porch in the late spring night, with no words left in him.

--

They stay away from each other for the rest of the night.

Theo wakes up just as the sun is about to rise. Napoleon, Leonardo, and Sebastian seem to have taken shelter in the house’s other bedrooms—but he, Arthur, Dazai, Isaac, her friend, and her have camped out in the living room to sleep.

Theo’s eyes scan the room. Professor Newton arrived late last night but joined in just as he’s promised. Her friend had clung all night to Newton like a flirty leech, and the usually-reclusive man had no choice but to stay still and… well, stay flustered; Theo wakes up to him draping his jacket over her friend, as he tries to leave ahead of everyone else to make it to his morning class.

Across the room, Dazai and Arthur are also already awake, watching something intently on Dazai’s phone, giggling and with their hands held together in between them over the blanket. Theo doesn’t know at this point if they are lovers or really just fuck-buddies, but he yearns anyway—to be able to have the courage to connect like that.

And next to Theo, she is asleep, huddled under a blanket with a silly print, a large cartoon penguin sitting on top of an iceberg. The penguin has its arms raised wide, open, laid upon her side like protecting her from danger. From him. And Theo—Theo is about to reach out his hand and brush off the stray lock of her hair that’s now dangled in front of her face, trying his best to not wake her up with his movement.

She makes a small sound, and Theo’s heart stops for a moment, but then she does not wake up.

She’s right there next to him, and she hasn’t left, and it’s still spring, so she isn’t leaving soon, but Theo already feels so lonely. To whom will he recite the interesting lines of poetry that he encounters? To whom will he discuss all sorts of philosophies with, sitting in the alcove, waiting out the rain? Who else will be at the bookstore every week, aggressively haggling for books that already are in set prices, who else will team up with Arthur to make his head hurt? Who else will ring their little bike bell when they pass the bookshop at odd hours of the day?

His hand grazes just the tops of her cheeks as he tucks the stray lock of hair away behind her ear. He imagines the flush of it, should she be awake. But she is not awake, and he gets to be alone in his loneliness. His touch hovers there for just a moment, memorizing her warmth, before he pulls his hand back, and turns away.

Across the room, Arthur is watching, and shaking his head in defeat.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

thank you! i think you're genuinely the only person that has ever said they actually like the fact that my bathrobe is obnoxiously pink. and you're absolutely right, one of the things i like most about it is that it hurts people's eyes. i love it actually. if you ever celebrate halloween you should absolutely add your bathrobe to your costume. an amazing idea. since it has a mouse face on the hood it could be two costumes rolled into one - both a vampire and a mouse (if in the middle of the evening you get bored of one), which i think would be awesome. and you probably wouldn't get cold (is it cold in nz during halloween? because here it almost always is). we don't celebrate halloween in lithuania either though. which i'm a bit bummed about, because halloween sounds super fun. mostly because of the dressing up! but i did celebrate it once, when i was 11 or 12 maybe? me and a couple of friends decided it would be fun even if it's not really celebrated here. so we dressed up, even went trick ir treating (half the houses had no idea what was happening and also i pretty much froze to death because i was dressed as a dead bride and refused to put a coat on because then you couldn't see my dress) and also watched horror movies. 12 (or 11) year old me thought it was amazing.

oh yeah! i've broken a knife on 2 separate occasions i think. once i tried to get something out of between the blender's blades, used a knife and then accidentally turned the blender on (i'm so fucking glad it was a knife and not my fingers). so the tip of the knife broke off (the blender was ok tho). and the second time i have no idea how it happened. i was cutting up broccoli and the knife just fell apart??? i was so confused, because one second i'm holding a knife and the next it's just two pieces of a handle and the metal part, all separate. had fun explaining that to my dad. you sound pretty unlucky too! i mean, a cut every time you use a knife, but you don't even notice it at the time? i think it's just that knives are out to get us (it's my newest conspiracy theory). i actually get double vision too sometimes! mostly when i'm tired, but i just figured that it was because i have really bad eyesight

they definitely SHOULD teach about gender and sexuality in school. it's a really big problem that in a lot of places it's either not compulsory or not even in the curriculum. honestly, everything i know about sex ed or lgbtq+ i had to learn myself on the internet, because we only had one class when we were like 13 years old with a guest speaker and it was mostly biology and then a little bit about menstruation and pads for girls (i have no idea what they told boys because we were also separated). so sex ed definitely sucks a lot in my country and i bet it's the same in a lot of others, which makes me really mad

exactly!! it's so hard to tell whether i'm feeling romantic or platonic love sometimes! it's confusing. also i remember one time me and a couple of friends had a sleepover and the friend's, who was hosting, parents weren't home so we watched romance movies (scandalous i know). again we were maybe 12. and they kept going "oh he's so hot" and intensely watching the sex scenes. while i was looking away from the tv whenever sexy times were going on and commenting on how much i loved the house design and the garden. gee i wonder what that means. (still can't believe it took me this long to figure out i was ace)

the breakfast went very well though! it's so interesting how different traditions are everywhere. i hope your lunch and the rest of christmas day went well too! (also i forgot to ask last time, but what is boxing day? google says it's mostly a shopping holiday, is it that? we just call it the second day of christmas and it's pretty much the same as christmas day but there's no presents!) but yeah i hope you had fun with your extended family on boxing day!

having acid reflux sounds like it sucks. i love breakfast, it's my favourite meal of the day (when i don't have to rush that is) and i skip lunch a lot because i usually have no time for it (my schedule kinda sucks), so i usually try to have a bigger breakfast. but hey, peanut butter is good! so at least you can have something that tastes good for breakfast!

aaand i feel like this ask got away from me. sorry it's so long!

it’s because i have t a s t e. it may not be GOOD taste but it sure is...taste...and i am proud of it. and yes, i love the idea of adding my dressing gown to my costume specifically because it means i’m basically in my PJ’s. minimal effort. comfort to the max. living the dream. halfway through the night i’m tired of being the vampire no one invites in so i drop to my knees and start the mouse act. mice are good at getting in houses and getting to chocolate and such. the dream. also i absolutely would get bored of one costume within the space of a few hours knowing me, so that’s a plus. uhhhh halloween is october which is. mid-late spring so it really depends on the day. it might be a little cold, might be shorts weather. I rarely leave my house at night so I’m not an expert on nighttime temperatures sdflsdfjsd. 

I used to wish we did Halloween here but that was mostly because I wanted lollies. Although I also liked playing dress up as a young kid so maybe very young me would’ve vibed with the costume aspect. I know there’s a photo of me when I was like, 5 and my best friend of the time dressed up as witches at some point, maybe we had our own little halloween. I also possibly had a halloween themed birthday party once as a kid? I remember the little gift bags having spooky things in them and also possibly a bat cake but my memory is too bad to remember for sure. aha that’s the problem here too, no one locally would ever think to buy lollies to give out so it’d just be like um. you can have an apple I guess? at least you had fun though! i respect the commitment to the costume despite the cold. 

that is such a stressful story to read, i fear for your life. although i understand the knife breaking in that first scenario. that would be terrifying though. what if the blender launched it,,, nOPE. i’m very glad it wasn’t your fingers, that’s some horror movie shit. the second time is just,, it be like that sometimes. it was probably just waiting to happen. my parents have a cheese grater with a loose handle and it. falls off. every time. i dry it. with the dishes. and every time i fear for my life as the grating bit drops off towards my feet as i’m left holding the handle. i should expect it by now but i never do. I get scared every time it happens. knives are definitely out to get us, i fully support this conspiracy theory. oh yeah, tiredness doesn’t help with double vision. i kind of need bifocal glasses by now but I also don’t want bifocal glasses so i just suffer but I suspect having them would reduce the double vision. maybe. maybe not.

yup! i remember someone handing out tampons and pads at primary school, i assume after giving a talk about periods, idk. i do also remember a teacher pulling the girls aside and being like yo, this is what a period is, here’s a horror story about my daughter and a tampon, enjoy the trauma, go back to class. good times. we did actually get really comprehensive sex ed concerning most things at my high school but that is faaaarrr from the norm around here, clearly. although teenage boys are good at filling in gaps, in my experience. they’re like little sex encyclopedias that offer up information without you asking. i didn’t ACTUALLY want to know that but i do now, i guess, thanks michael. 

dude. the ‘oh he’s so hot’ comments are so confusing. ‘hot’ is like a category of attractiveness that I’ve never understood. ‘isn’t he hot?’ what does that MEAN rebecca. i think i asked once if it meant like, attractive or good looking. and the person i asked was like, you know, hot. you just look at them and, you know- no i don’t know. what is this. i don’t think i’ve ever watched a sex scene with people my age though, generally i just zone out for them sdkfhskdfh. i feel like there’s definitely all these indicators when you look back like oh yeah, should’ve realised i was ace then, but it’s just. such a hard sexuality to figure out. not that other sexualities aren’t but you’ve got to figure out an absence of something when you don’t even know what the something feels like- it’s a challenge.

I’m glad it did! It is interesting, for sure. I’ve always been interested in how winter Christmas’s work. As a young kid I didn’t understand hemispheres...obviously...i was like 5...and i’d go out on Christmas morning to see if there was snow. and sometimes it’d be a bit chilly in the morning and I’d be like damn. we almost had some this year. it’s a shame our climate tends to be too hot for snow on christmas :// like no you tiny dumbass it’s summer you little idiot there will be no snow no matter what. everything ended up going super well here :). boxing day is basically just a shopping holiday, i don’t know if it has any significance in any other way, i’m sure it did at one point, but i know there’s always boxing day sales everywhere. I think it’s also a public holiday (?) to give people another day off work and that, but I could be wrong there. I know I also used to regularly go to the races (horse races) nearby that were always held on boxing day, it was like a 150 year old tradition or something until people in attendance started dropping and I think they finally shut it down a couple years back. I didn’t care all that much about the horses but they also had food and carnival-type rides and such for the kids which is why I loved it. also we tended to meet extended family there for a picnic lunch.

acid reflux is like the least of my problems sdfkjshdkf. it’s annoying but it’s pretty managed with medication, I have to watch certain foods and drinks but I’m used to it by now. I think it’s also what causes me to not be able to eat large amounts normally so I survive a lot on snacks and a reasonable sized dinner. works for me. but peanut butter is good! i’m glad i can have that! I used to also have vegemite but that’s a bit more of a push, it’s easier to stick with peanut butter.

also it’s fine!! my responses are always very long too sdfjhskdf.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 4x01-- The Gang Deals with Alternate Reality

I had a lot to say about this one, guys. 

Welcome back! I see this season TGF has decided to be It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Is this some sort of joke about how last season it was always raining? Is every title going to be like this? And where are the numbers!? There is no counting of any kind in this episode title! 

When you think about it, the central argument of this episode-- that 45’s election brought new life to resistance movements that would’ve otherwise laid dormant-- is also my central argument about why TGF is a good show instead of a passable one. Remember how in season one the point of the show was supposed to be a fake scandal about Maia? 

So it’s fitting that we begin season four by going back to the show’s pilot: Inauguration Day. Only this time, Diane is happily watching Hillary Clinton’s inauguration. Did I say happily? I meant ecstatically. 

As Diane pops champagne, the TV goes to static-- something’s off-- and the credits begin. Same credits as season 3 but with one key difference: things are coming together rather than exploding. I see what you did there. (The TVs still explode, though, and they still have the real 45 on them.)

Yeah I didn’t need to see the credits to know the Kings wrote this one. 

I think the notes the Kings left in the script for this episode for Brooke Kennedy just said, “Make Diane look like a glamorous badass.” I’m like one minute in and she’s already popped champagne and worn trendy sunglasses.

Brooke’s directing in this episode is so stylish and it might be my favorite ep she’s ever done? The showiness (and sometimes campy performances) REALLY work for the tone of this episode. 

Diane takes the elevator to work and looks quizzical. One may be tempted to ask how Diane knows to go to RBL if it’s the day after inauguration and she’s still at Lockhart Deckler whatever (one may then snark that RBL is in the LG space so she’d go there no matter what). The answer is: dream logic! 

(But really, little disorienting moments like that-- and yes, I know this was probably only disorienting for me and one other person-- help the episode work long before we know this isn’t a true alternate universe.)

Marissa is waiting at reception to inform Diane that HRC’s press secretary is in her office. Diane then asks Marissa who the president is, and Marissa asks Diane if she’s microdosing again. Ha! Also, that’s another clear clue that something’s up-- Diane wouldn’t have already microdosed right after inauguration. And why would Diane have microdosed in this AltVerse? Again-- dream logic. And I love it. In episodes like this, when things don’t add up, it’s wonderfully disorienting instead of frustrating. (Plus, this line is a knowing wink at fans about the absurdity of the microdosing storyline.)

Marissa confirms that it’s 2020 in show time. Diane has a flash of a selection of horrific images that have come out of these last few years, then says, ”God, have you ever had a dream that is so real that it takes you a long time to wake up?” I wish.

Diane wants to know how Hillary won, and Marissa says she won in a landslide-- 3 million votes. “Same as in my dream,” Diane says. Marissa thinks she means the other candidate had 3 million more votes, and wonders how he won if he had fewer votes. On one hand, Marissa totally knows about the electoral college. On the other hand, would “3 million votes” and hating the electoral college be cliched and top of mind enough to work as the joke in this scene if those votes had actually mattered? Probably not. I doubt many people would be talking about abolishing the electoral college, or that Marissa or even Diane would be SO quick to understand how one could win the popular vote and not the election, if we hadn’t all lived through the past three years. Also dream logic. It’s a great way of explaining things that are out of character.

“Whatever, it’s a dream, it doesn’t have to make sense,” says Marissa, making my point for me.

Oh hello there Lucca, your jacket is very bright. Lucca asks to sit in on Diane’s meeting with the press secretary. Lucca was up for a partnership in 3x10 but in this episode she’s very obviously an underling (and honestly seems a bit lower ranking and hesitant than usual-- I’ll need another episode or two to understand if this is how the writers are writing Lucca, how Diane views Lucca, or just what was easiest for the plot). 

The White House is now asking Diane to take on cases. Way to dream big, Diane!

And Diane will be arguing in front of the Supreme Court! 

In the alternate universe, Liz’s wonderful bathroom belongs to Diane.

Diane gets to do so many things she wouldn’t usually do in this ep, like furiously shake her head to prove to herself she’s not dreaming! 

Diane still has that Girl With Flower As Head painting and I do not believe she would have that painting if HRC were president because it’s too friggin weird. Also has it always had a US flag in the background?

In the alternate universe, Garland and Warren (as in Elizabeth) are both on the court. It’s a good laughline precisely because it’s so plausible. (Well, idk about the Warren part, but she’s a recognizable name.)

Diane looks so happy she could cry when she learns Warren is on the Supreme Court. 

There is a shot of Lucca that is so very clearly from Diane’s POV and I like it. I read a review of this episode that said it didn’t have enough character development. To that I say, one, this isn’t TGW-- this show has always been more about tone and theme, and two, there’s PLENTY here that’s about Diane’s POV and how she views others and thinks of herself. Because it’s dream logic I can’t make nearly as much out of it as I can make out of an episode like A Few Words, but there are little touches here and there. Even this shot of Lucca, where Lucca’s in the center of the frame shot from a high angle, grounds me in Diane’s POV. You could even make an argument about hierarchy based on the angle. 

“Who’s that?” Lucca whispers when Diane asks about Kavanaugh. Diane is elated at that response. 

Somehow we leave Diane’s POV (whatever, it’s a dream so I won’t be as brutal to this choice as I was to a similar but more subtle one in Don’t Fail) and follow Lucca into Adrian’s office. She immediately tells Liz and Adrian she’s concerned about Diane. That sounds like Lucca alright. 

Diane is DANCING in her office as she watches news coverage that isn’t a garbage fire.

I’m curious y’all-- are people in your area cheering at a certain time? Hearing cheers every night during this pandemic is one of the few things I like about this awful moment in time. (My recap writing was just interrupted by cheering, if you couldn’t guess the reason for this abrupt digression.) 

News stories in alternate reality: Cancer has been cured, there is polar bear overpopulation, the rainforest has been saved, 45 is REDUCING the amount of content he’s putting out into the world, and $35,000 is missing from some government agency. Ha. All that and people are hung up on $35,000? Sounds about right, actually.

Diane hugs Liz and Adrian because she feels like a weight has been lifted off of her. I appreciate that Diane acts without restraint or concern for what other people think in this episode. This is central to why I think this episode is actually a pretty good character study: this is who Diane imagines herself to be, more or less. Real Diane, no matter how bizarre things are, probably would handle herself more professionally in a work meeting and probably wouldn’t let feelings like this show. Dream Diane has no reason to double check herself. This is just how she thinks she’d react if there were absolutely no constraints. Not that she’s actively thinking- she’s just doing. 

Diane is very excited to be watching the news, and Adrian thinks she’s nuts-- there are scandals! Like the missing $35k and THE EMAILS. The GODDAMN EMAILS. Even a fictional joke about how they’d still be a scandal makes me mad. Twenty years from now it will still be too soon to remind me of the emails. (And to play Fight Song, that song is cancelled.)

A haircut is also a scandal because sexism.

I admire this show for calling attention to problems on both sides without ever screaming BOTH SIDES ARE EQUALLY BAD. This episode may call out some of the good things that have happened as a result of the 2016 election, but the whole premise of this joke rests on the fact that only one of the two potential administrations could run through a year’s worth of scandals in a day. 

Might circle back to this later on-- btw I write these after watching the whole episode, so I do know what’s going to happen next-- but I don’t think the show is trying to make the case that it’s good 45 was elected. I think they’re trying to ask questions about how the world has changed and cause and effect so we can understand the moment we’re in. Above, I said I liked hearing my neighbors cheer every night. And I could write a lot of words on how that collective activity inspires me, makes me feel connected even when I’ve been stuck inside for a month, etc, how I’ve gotten better about keeping in touch with old friends, whatever, and NONE of that would mean that a global pandemic is a good thing. It just means that like any huge societal phenomenon, its implications are complex. 

TGF and TGW have always, always, always been shows about understanding where we are in time. That’s what this episode does. And it makes sense to do a thought experiment like this now, at the start of season 4, in a season opener. We’ve had enough time living in this world that we can reflect on it.

Diane laughs, because what Diane dream sequence would be complete without a glorious laugh?

Adrian’s kinda suspicious of Hillary. Sure, cancer’s been cured, but it’s not public how or when! 

God it’s weird to hear some of the most absurd happenings of the last three years as punchlines. 

The line about the Obama’s overall deal at Netflix is fire. 

Diane laughs AGAIN. 

Oh right, Harriet Tubman was going to be on the $20 bill. (Is it obvious yet that I am the exact right target for this episode?)

Julius is VERY mad about Hillary’s $500 haircut. Heh. He’s also publicly supporting Trump which is interesting (and probably a dream logic thing; Diane knows he supported Trump therefore in her dream he isn’t ever hesitant to share that he voted for Trump.)

“Only Hillary could cure cancer and turn it into a scandal,” someone else adds. I’m loving all these jokes. He is mad cancer wasn’t cured earlier and that it’s been cured in an election year. This joke is funny because it’s exactly what would happen in this scenario.

I wonder if Julius would be more likely to speak up about his political affiliation if the stakes were lower. If 45 lost, then is supporting him as much of a thing to hide in a place like RBL? People would be mad but they probably would get over their moral opposition to his views a lot faster when it isn’t a real threat.

Diane’s brought in a huge client, which is news to her. And that client is none other than Harvey Weinstein, which… my God this is an interesting thought experiment. 

“I’m amazed you got him away from Lisa Bloom,” Adrian says. YIKES!!!! (If y’all haven’t read Catch and Kill yet, pick up a copy ASAP.)

No one’s heard of Weinstein’s sexual assault issues. I believe it. I mean, I think some women in power might have known before 2017-- I still vividly recall how many journalists reacted to the release of the story not with “Oh my God, how has this been going on for so long?” but with “Holy shit, someone managed to publish a story about this?!”-- but I’ll believe that the general consensus in elite liberal circles was to set the rumors aside and not share them widely.

I can’t watch this episode without thinking about VIP Treatment (2x05 of TGW). That episode, which raises the question of what happens when someone accuses a liberal legend of sexual assault, feels so ahead of its time. It aired in 2010. And I just, right this moment, learned that it was ripped from the headlines about accusations a masseuse made against Al Gore. Guys. I didn’t know there were allegations in 2010 about Al Gore. Is that because I was 16 in 2010 and just never heard of (or forgot about) the story? Is it because he had less power? Is it because of something specific about the reporting or the allegations? Or is it because we as a culture swept it under the rug since it was (allow me to be the millionth person to make this awful joke) an inconvenient truth? 

I don’t know the answers to the above. What I do know is that this episode is making me ask those questions.

In Marissa’s world (“you mean reality?”), 45 bragged about grabbing women by the pussy and then lost the election. And the story ended there. There was no women’s march, no #MeToo.

Sarah Steele gets to react to a lot of things in this episode and it is very delightful to see her say things like, “what are pussy hats?”

Diane looks so angry and stunned when she realizes that Weinstein is still “a thing” in the world. 

He won the Presidential Medal of Freedom because of course he did. 

His wikipedia page says his only controversies are about his managerial style. Yikes.

Marissa’s reaction to the phrase “masturbating into plants” is one of the best things about this episode. I love that she gets so hung up on it. 

Charlie Rose is the first name other than Weinstein that comes to mind for Diane when Marissa asks what other men were serial harassers. I’ve got to think that Rose gets the most attention here in no small part because he was part of the CBS family-- he was even on TGW. 

I’ve seen Annaleigh Ashford in so many things recently. 

Diane handles the meeting with Team Weinstein VERY poorly (she also does not care to handle it well), while Adrian covers with the “all options are open to us” gibberish that Diane absolutely would be able to convincingly deploy in a meeting she couldn’t follow. I point this out because it shows that 1) Diane isn’t behaving the way she would in reality and 2) Diane does not give a fuck. 

If this were reality, would Diane push so hard in this meeting? I don’t know. This situation is so far removed from reality it’s hard to tell. But my sense is that Diane would like to think of herself as someone who would never waver in her commitment to Doing The Right Thing, but she’d probably be a lot more diplomatic-- even in real 2020-- in initial meetings. It’s a bit dated at this point, but in VIP Treatment Diane was hesitant to believe the victim because the man accused of assault was a high profile liberal. To her credit, she does eventually choose the victim over her own politics. But I could totally see Diane-- with no knowledge of the real timeline-- behaving like her friend/HRC’s press secretary Zoe does in this episode.

All that to say: personally, I don’t think #MeToo would’ve caught on to the extent it did if women weren’t already angry. I believe there could have been a hashtag and some stories (maybe even the Weinstein story). But I also believe women felt an urgent need to speak out and organize. And I believe that more women were inclined to believe victims and get angry. And I believe that it was only because of the world in general that #MeToo spread outside of a few online circles. To put it another way, you know how there are sometimes cases of the week on this show where you might know the reference in detail, but if you ask a co-worker or friend about it they’ll know either nothing or only the very basics? I think all of #MeToo could’ve ended up like one of those cases if it hadn’t played out with 2017 in the background.

Dreams aren’t subtle: Weinstein’s publicity tour includes appearances with Charlie Rose and Matt Lauer. (This joke also serves as a reminder that sexual harassment is a systemic problem.)

Diane is SO confrontational in this meeting. Also, the woman they’re meeting with is SO FRIGGIN COMPLICIT. 

Weinstein’s team frames sexual assault allegations-- which are still floating around even in alt2020-- as a Republican conspiracy. I have no doubt they would have used this approach if given the chance. 

I’m on page six and fifteen minutes in, damn.

Adrian, or Diane’s version of Adrian, does not believe women and seems to hate Hillary Clinton a little bit too. An accurate portrayal of Adrian? Lines that betray Diane’s suspicion of where Adrian stands on women’s issues? Or just that Adrian is there to be the person pushing back and it could’ve been anyone? (I think it’s somewhere between the first two, personally. If this could’ve been anyone, why not Liz?) 

In this alternate universe NBC’s refusal to broadcast Ronan Farrow’s investigation is proof of Weinstein’s innocence, because in the alt universe we still apparently have faith in the corporate culture at NBC. (Perhaps the most surprising thing to me about Catch and Kill is that a LOT of it is dedicated to exposing the shit that went down within NBC. It’s fascinating and also makes it crystal clear how assault is a systemic problem and not just a few bad apples you should avoid being alone with.)

Adrian’s reaction when Diane mentions Reddick (Adrian knows nothing of the accusations in this universe) changes the tone of this scene in an instant and it’s breathtaking. This is the one moment in the episode where she knows she has to shut up. 

The one thing about this ep I am not sure I buy is that the firm is struggling because of the rise in corporate taxes. But I know so little about this issue I don’t care if it’s right or wrong. 

After Diane leaves Adrian’s office, Liz asks, “What about my dad?” meaning she somehow heard the conversation through the wall. (The door was definitely closed so either their office design is worse than I thought or it’s just dream logic.) Diane doesn’t share the rumor with Liz.

Lucca is for some reason on this case, and they are for some reason in court on the same day they learned about the case. And the best part is that I don’t have to worry about whether or not this is plausible BECAUSE IT’S ALL A DREAM

Another thing I’ll say about this ep-- it’s pace remarkably well. The opening previews what’s to come, there’s just enough happy liberal utopia with funny jokes at the start, the Weinstein twist comes at the right moment, and the shift to the more dark, character focused scenes that wrap up the episode come exactly when the writers have gotten as much mileage as they can out of this premise. I knew this episode would be fantastic the moment I saw it was only 41 minutes long.

The judge keeps saying the opposing counsel’s full name, Ann Howard. Is this supposed to be a familiar name to me? I am not getting the reference. 

The judge’s ruling is basically that no one would take the risk involved in assaulting someone at work these days so the case must be bogus. And then we see, immediately (because, dream) that the judge is totally corrupt and just wants to get his daughter an internship with Weinstein. 

“Justice is an equation. Justice equals the law times the zeitgeist. The law on its own doesn’t stand up. You need the mood of the times on your side,” Diane eloquently explains. That’s basically what this episode is saying. To put it more simply: Context matters and nothing happens in a vacuum. (TGF and TGW were always about the context-- you simply couldn’t do a show about a woman standing by her cheating politician husband and being REVERED for it in 2020. That’s not about the law, but the same principle applies.)

Lucca says they won, so the zeitgeist worked for them-- and how could it be against women when the president is a woman? Remember how the Kings used to say that TGF was going to be about Diane retiring because she thought the glass ceiling had been shattered? I always thought that sounded wrong, but this episode is helping me understand what they were thinking a little bit. 

Lucca calls out Diane, a bit abruptly, on how only the woman partners probably would get to say “no more” if there were to be a women’s movement because the associates can’t risk it. Lucca’s right and she’s wrong-- her words underestimate how mainstream and trendy it’s become to publicly talk about sexual harassment, but she’s 100% right that there are still underlying power dynamics.

Diane’s Lucca is V V V V V V V concerned with power dynamics and VERY much wants to be higher ranking. On the one hand, actual Lucca wants to rank higher too. On the other, is there a piece of Diane that sees Lucca as power hungry? 

Lucca’s asked to take documents to Weinstein, and she’s flattered. Diane, like every viewer, sees this as a car crash in slow motion. She knows exactly what will happen when Lucca gets to his hotel with the documents. But Lucca, who’s in the dark, only knows it’s a good opportunity to impress a huge client.

Diane tells Weinstein’s… whatever she is? That she is “Harvey’s pimp” and she is not wrong. Also since I don’t actually know this woman’s job title I’ll just refer to her that way moving forward.

(See what I mean about Diane just saying things that are totally unprofessional bc this is a dream Diane who does what she wants and not actual Diane making tough decisions?)

Lucca is REALLY bitter about how Diane is always taking opportunities away from her. They’re definitely trying to do something with Lucca in this episode but as I said earlier, I think I need to see what they have planned for the rest of the season before I can fully understand what they’re going for. 

Diane tells Lucca exactly what is going to happen when she goes to drop off the papers. Lucca won’t hear it, so Diane asks Marissa to keep an eye on her.

Another possibility for what they’re trying to do with Lucca (and Adrian): Maybe it’s supposed to be about how different Types would react-- the powerful man who benefits from not questioning things and has some latent sexism issues; the ambitious young woman who gets caught in a bad situation because she’s trying to move her career forward. The more I think about it, the more I think this is what they’re going for-- and the question I should be asking is what does it mean about Adrian and Lucca (in terms of how the writers see them, in terms of how Diane sees them) that they can take on these roles so easily?

(It may say nothing about Diane because… idk, do YOU do thoughtful character analysis in your sleep? Because I don’t!)

Marissa is still stuck on the plants and I love it.

Lucca catches Marissa right away, but all that accomplishes is that both of them clearly see that Diane is right. These scenes feel a little unnecessary (they’re also not in Diane’s POV, though surely dreams can have tangents) and I think they’re only here to illustrate how the system works. I can’t imagine this scene is teaching many people new information.

Also there’s… just not another scene with Lucca in this episode? And I don’t know if I feel like that’s a bad thing or like it’s part of dream logic? I think it’s probably just bad plotting that the unnecessary sequence ends abruptly and doesn’t return.

“With the presidency, women can do whatever they want,” says one of Diane’s liberal friends at a women’s event. I’m… not 100% sure anyone would say this. If this were true why would they even be having a gala for a women’s charity? But point taken. People love this type of statement.

So Diane’s extremely low cut dress like has a mesh thing covering her exposed chest??I can’t figure it out. 

Weinstein is also a hero to everyone at the feminist charity. When Diane hears this, she gives an interview to a reporter about having a long way to go, which I 100% believe would be the message no matter reality we’re in what because literally no one is going to say please donate to my cause we have no battles left to fight BUT I DIGRESS. Diane tries to ignite #MeToo (and even name checks Tarana Burke, so that’s awesome) and is quickly cut off.

Then, after giving the interview, she has Jay (hello!) set her up on Twitter. Dream Diane is revealing just how little she understands how social media works. She also wants to link to a “Me Too Site” which is… not how any of this works, Diane.

Diane sees herself on the news-- she’s mostly cut from the piece and her words are taken out of context. 

Adrian and Liz stare Diane down for calling Weinstein’s pimp a pimp and Diane defends herself. Liz doesn’t believe this either. Diane is asked to sign a VERY RIDICULOUS (like it sounds like 45 more than anything else) apology letter and laughs. 

Liz reminds her that they’re close to bankruptcy and that they’ve defended killers before (oh, and, most relevant-- the assholes to avoid case, I can’t believe I went to 205 to think about how Diane would react in a more nuanced present day situation when I had that example!), why would Diane draw the line here? “Everyone deserves a defense. Just not everyone deserves MY defense,” Diane says. You know it’s a dream when a character on this show actually says that. Do you know how many times (if you’re still reading this you probably do know) I have written something to the effect of “SAYING EVERYONE DESERVES REPRESENTATION IS NOT THE SAME AS REPRESENTING THEM YOURSELF, LIZ/DIANE/ADRIAN/WILL/ALICIA/CARY/LUCCA/WHOEVER”? It’s been a lot. 

(Here is something I wrote in a case in which Diane, at the height of #MeToo, defended some assholes for money: “‘I wouldn’t say hate. We’re obligated,’ Diane says. Ohhh yes this is a new pet peeve. Y’all are not obligated. You were not assigned this case. You chose to take it for the money.”)

Idk what my point is here, maybe that this feels like a dream because the characters are never this principled in reality.

Zoe, the press secretary, wants Diane to shut down #MeToo. Lucca’s there too, but she says nothing (despite the experience she may have just had, because dream). Zoe doesn’t want women to get angry about abuse because “that’s not the message that helps us in 2020.” Ooof. But I buy it. I am not sure if it’s ACCURATE that anger wouldn’t help but I can completely see campaign staffers being afraid it would hurt, especially given that Bill Clinton has… more than a few issues. 

This scene veers into Diane’s POV. The camera gets closer and closer to her as she feels boxed in, and Liz, Adrian, and the pimp stare accusingly at her. Suddenly she realizes she doesn’t know where Kurt is because she’s spent the last few days at work. I think the most dream-like thing about this is the way Kurt just suddenly pops into the dream and shifts the tone of the whole thing. 

She runs off. Liz and Adrian ask Diane to step back from the firm for Weinstein and she’s like, okay, I’m going home, “I don’t know how I changed my clothes, I went to that event last night and I have different clothes on now and I don’t know where Kurt is.” I LOVE watching this whole episode twist into something this weird.

When Diane gets home, there’s a man fixing her door. He’s watching Trump TV, which is currently airing Felix Staples singing “This Wall is Your Wall” and honestly this is the best use of Felix Staples in the show so far.

The man fixing Diane’s door also remembers reality. He doesn’t know why he’s fixing Diane’s door. It’s disorienting. 

Diane gets a beer with the man fixing her door and wonders about if she even likes this world where HRC is president (or if the problem is just that she doesn’t believe it). (I think she’d like it just fine if she experienced it linearly, tbh.)

Sexy gun lady from a previous episode is back, and Kurt’s guns are missing because he didn’t want them to be confiscated (I do not believe this would ever be a policy but this is a full on illogical dream right now) and now Diane is talking to the TV.

“I’m in the car, right?” Diane says while standing in her bedroom and pretending to grab a steering wheel. Heh. 

Diane drives to a cabin in the woods (the way this is shot is SO atmospheric) and finds Kurt, in shadow, in the woods. So THIS is what Robert King was going for in Mind’s Eye in the clumsily directed scene with fake Will in shadow. Gotta say, the whole “person you love and can’t quite picture” thing works a ton better when it is obvious it’s an intentional style choice.

This scene is so weird because suddenly politics doesn’t matter and Diane only cares about Kurt and also Kurt might be dead? I am not sure I understand what this is saying. And I’m pretty sure I spent the entirety of this scene the first time through alternating between thinking “ooh pretty”, “this is what 614 wanted to be,” and “please don’t kill Kurt!!”

Kurt pulls Diane to reality and gets her to recap where we left off. She wakes up on the floor of her bedroom. She and Kurt have both, thankfully, survived Book Club’s SWATting. 

HA the first thing Diane says when she wakes up is “What happened?” which… that HAS to be intentional right???? 

To check that Diane is of sound mind, one of the agents asks her how many fingers he’s holding up and who’s president. She laughs. 

This episode is UNDER 40 minutes if you exclude the credits and promo.

Guess we’re not doing recap songs.

Had a lot to say about this one. I’ve liked TGW’s mind-y episodes more, but that’s not really a fair comparison since the point of this wasn’t character study… it was tone setting.

What this episode does NOT give me is a sense of what season 4 will be about, other than the usual absurdity. 

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 26

26. everything i wanted felt like a nightmare

Summary: Lola learns what happened to her dad because of Doc. She really does not take it well.

Warnings: mentions of death, emotional, psychological, and physical child abuse, heavy drinking and discussions of trauma

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove  @toofasttofallinlove   @xrosegoldwolfx  @obsessivesky   @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite  @angelicjoonie23   @marvelismylifffe   @lilytalebi  @glitterdreamsz   @freddiessmallnipples  @crazysaladchopshop  @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies. @dramatique-moi  @missqueeniewrites @calspixie   @aryssav  @catsoo12   @sweetshutter  @silvertonguedserpent   @shamelessobsessions  @lavenderbones22   @keepcalm-and-beyou  @scarecrowmax   @nicholeh7  @unknownoblivion  @sighsophiia

For the remainder of the tour, Lola's more subdued than Doc thinks he's ever seen her, and he wants, if nothing else, to reward her quiet nature, encourage it. So when they arrive home, when the dust has settled and everyone's unwound from the stress of the tour, Doc starts making calls.

The first is to Lola.

"What did you say your dad's name was again?" Is one of the first things he asks, and Lola freezes, frowning automatically at his direct and blunt tone.

"I didn't. I don't tell you shit about my dad, Doc," Lola tries, but Doc sighs, trying again, gentler this time.

"You may not remember it, but at least twice since I've known you, you've gotten very high and told me how much you miss him," and at least this time she doesn't react with hostility, "Lola," Doc's voice is much more gentle this time, "I'm trying to find him for you, I know you don't care for your mother, but I thought I could at least try and track down your dad." 

"That's..." Lola swallows heavily, "that's actually really nice." She admits, and there's that honesty that Doc is trying so hard to encourage in her. "Thank you."

"I manage the band, I try and do what's right by them, and occasionally that means you too," is what he says, but his tone is surprisingly sweet, "now I just need his name, and maybe a bit about where you grew up, the last time you saw him incase your mom put in a missing person's report."

"Sounds like something she'd do," Lola scoffs, before taking a deep breath, deliberating, "uh, Maleko; Maleko Fields. Last time I saw him, like, in person, was sixty-eight, June-ish, I think. Boston." She's surprisingly forthcoming, but Doc can hear her grimace, even over the phone. He doesn't keep her long, let's her go back to whatever dangerous or scandalous activity she has planned with Nikki and Tommy, and he hires someone to look into it.

There is absolutely no way in the world that he is prepared for what he finds out about the former Fields Family of Boston.

Maleko Fields, known to his friends and family as Leo, born and raised in Hawaii, moved to Massachusetts at the age of nineteen to open a business with his childhood best friend, and worked there for fifteen years. When the friend left for college, Leo had bought him out, renamed the shop with his friend's blessing to Leo's and became a staple establishment, favoured within his suburb. Irene was an accountant he'd hired to help with the buisness, though it wasn't long before they started dating, and the two had married when Leo was 23. Two years later, their first and only daughter was born.

Keola 'Katie' Mavis Fields, the apple of her father's eye, and unofficial mascot of 'Leo's' until its closure in 1968, was declared missing in 1977. Her missing person's report comes with a photo of what is unmistakably a teenage Lola.

This is where the information gets darker; every newspaper in the city, and many across the nation, report on the trial of Irene Fields. Assult on a family member which caused serious bodily harm. Testimonies of family and friends who speak to Irene's tenuous grip on reality and her possessive, obsessive control over her daughter, health professionals confirming her delusions and issues with aggression that had manifested due to trauma. Countless pictures of burn marks that were now all too familiar to Doc, and so many photos of a much younger Lola, in crisp button-up shirts done up too tight over bandages. Irene recieves a six month sentence at a mental hospital, and Lola is placed into the care of a group home when none of her family can provide her adequate care.

All because Leo had died when Lola was nine.

Irene had never been able to process his death, instead, when asked to identify his body after he'd been in a terrible car accident, she'd refused to believe it was him. The trauma of seeing Leo so horribly disfigured had broken Irene, and she'd managed to convince herself that he'd simply run away, even after both his sister and father had confirmed it had been him.

Testimonies had revealed that she'd fed Lola this delusion, blaming herself and the child for his disappearance when she couldn't find an adequate reason for his 'departure'. Family was no longer able to visit or interact with Irene or Lola at Irene's insistence;

"She thought we were trying to poison Katie against her," Leo's sister had told the court in tears, "she thought we were hurting her when we tried to help her through her grief, but we wanted to help so she would stop blaming Katie; the things she had said to that girl were- oh God, they'd break Leo's heart if he'd heard them."

When asked to describe some of the things she'd heard, Leo's sister answers;

"Katie had been taking piano lessons for about two years before my brother died, and he was always loved how she played, even if it wasn't great, but I mean, she was seven! But I attended a recital when Katie was fourteen, she'd played so, so beautifully, but I- I heard Irene - God, I'll never forget it - 'why'd we even invite the family if you were going to embarrass yourself lile that', she'd said, 'its a wonder your father didn't come, he'd have thrown stones if he'd acctually accepted my invite'- he, please you have to believe me, my brother just loved music, and Katie, he'd never -!"

Lola, in court at the time, didn't even seem to process the reality of the situation, judging by her firm belief she still held.

Her statement at the time had been simple:

"My mother had tried to keep me from leaving the house; she shoved me, which knocked over a candle, and when my bag caught fire, she held me so tight that I couldn't escape it." But she adds quickly, "but this isn't dad's fault." Of course there was more to it, but Doc was horrified enough that he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue.

Less than three days before Irene's release, Keola 'Katie' Fields is reported missing by the group home she'd been staying at.

When Doc finally reads through all the gathered information, with Lola's entire sordid childhood spread out, everything made a horrifying amount of sense.

Lola's father was dead, and she didn't even know it.

How the Hell was he meant to deal with this information?

He sits on it for a month, for a full month, and tries not to look at Lola with pity in his eyes. Tries.

"How'd you come up with Lola?" He asks one afternoon; the band is in the studio, writing new songs, developing new material, and Lola's behind the sound desk, spinning idly in her chair. She only really wears singlets around the band, still self conscious about her scarring that he now probably knows too much about, and he can't look at her directly, though her gaze has snapped to him.

"What?" Her voice is sharp, before she seems to realise, "oh, you found me - my dad?"

And, yes and no. But he can't say that.

"I'm still looking into it," is what Doc goes with, before he repeats the question, though he's pretty sure he knows the answer. The sound engineer isn't here, and the band can't hear them. Lola still gives them a furvative glance anyways.

"It was a nickname dad gave me, I'm actually Hawaiian on his side, and even though I sort of went by a different nickname back then, that was more because dad was, you know, gone, and mum just called me Katie, and I didn't exactly argue about it." She shrugged.

"Keola." Doc turned the name over slowly, and Lola stopped dead, eyes wide as saucers. "Am I saying it right?" He asks, but gets no response. "It means 'life', so I've heard."

"Whatever," Lola hissed, and was quick to leave the room after that, joining the boys, taking a seat by the piano and idly tapping out a piece, which Doc found to be a curious response.

However its Nikki who Doc talked to about the situation; he knew Lola best, and for the longest, almost 7 years if the missing person's report was to align with the time they ran away to LA together.

Nikki seems surprised that Doc wants to talk to him alone about Lola, but obliges anyways.

"Nikki, if you had found out something terrible had happened to, let's say, a family member of someone you loved, how would you tell them?"

"Depends on the family member," Nikki answered without a shred of hesitation, "this is still about Lola, right? You were looking for info on her dad, weren't you?" And Doc feels like a deer in the headlights, because of course Lola would have told Nikki about it. "Be honest with her."

Doc's pretty sure that's a one-way ticket to being put in hospital; Lola doesn't exactly handle bad news well, and he's not exactly on good terms with her right now.

"Lola, I don't know how to tell you this," is how he starts the conversation. They're in his office less than a day later, and Lola looks antsy.

"Did something bad happen to my dad?" She asks, and fuck, fuck, fuck, of course Nikki told Lola about the previous day's conversation. The manila envelope on Doc's desk is practically at bursting"and he fans his fingers out over the cool cardboard, nervous and pitying energy coiled in his chest.

"I don't know how to tell you this," Doc feels like he's stuck on a loop. How in thr fuck do you tell someone that all they know is a lie?

"Just tell me," Lola tries to put on a brave face, but all Doc can see is the sixteen year old in a court room photo.

"Your father... passed."

Silence. Lola swallows thickly.

"Oh." Again, silence fills the room. Lola's looking at the folder. It has her father's name printed on it. "When? How?" She's so quiet.

"Car accident." There's an unmistakable tremour in Doc's voice. "Fifteen years ago."

And he watches the wheels tick over in Lola's mind, the dawning realisation, the dawning horror.

"You're an asshole and a dumbass for thinking I'll believe that." But her lip is trembling, "how fucking dare you lie to my fucking face about my father? Did he find out I'm a slut and a junkie and decide he wants nothing to do with me? Pay you to lie to me?" She stands so abruptly that her chair goes crashing to the ground. "God I can't believe my fucking mother was right." She hisses, and that hurts Doc to hear her say, knowing what he knows. "Give me that fucking folder."

"I'm not lying." Doc tells her, calm, which earn him a punch in the face. He topples back on his own chair, and Lola snatches up the folder.

"He's here, isn't he?" She waves the folder at him, filled to the brim with news clippings, fliers for Leo's, funeral and wedding programs, and the full, printed transcript of Irene's court hearings.

"Yes," Doc wheezes, and satisfied with that answer, Lola storms out, folder in hand.

Lola arrives back at the home she shares with Nikki, crackling with anger and electricity. Later, Nikki comes back from drinks with Tommy, and finds Lola in the study, surrounded by proof of her worst fear.

"Lo?" Nikki's voice is low, is actually concerned; Lola, from what he can see, is shaking. When she turns, she looks genuinely ill, ashy with puffy eyes and red nose. She's holding a folded piece of paper.

"I'm seeing things; I need you to read this and tell me if I'm crazy," she offers the paper to Nikki, who steps inside, "I'm just crazy, right? This doesn't say nineteen sixty-eight."

Its a funeral program for Maleko 'Leo' Fields, born in 1934, died -

"Nineteen sixty-eight." Nikki read, the reality of the situation suddenly hitting him.

"No." Lola muttered, and snatched back the paper. "No, we're both crazy." And its heartbreaking to hear that be the option she favours.

"Lo-"

"Because if he died," she sniffles loudly, trying to hide the way her voice is shaking, "when I was nine, that means-" and there's a faint patter as Nikki hears her tears hit the paper, "that means everything... everything..."

"Lola..."

She's trying so desperately to come to terms with her own reality, but its tearing her apart.

"It was never my fault."

And its like she can't even believe it, sobbing now, voice so soft but rising quickly. The paper is crumpled in her fist as she gets to her feet, voice turning to a yell, a scream, as she cries and throws herself around the room.

"It was never my fault! It was never my fault! It was never my fault!" Picking up pieces of paper, she hollers. Angry and distraught in equal measure, she shoves the select pieces into Nikki's confused, worried arms, looking at him through bitter, blood shot eyes.

"It means it was never my fault."

And with that she shoves past him, leaving him shocked, and by the time he hears her angry scream from the kitchen, he's started to look at what he'd actually been holding.

The transcript of testimonies from family members who knew about what was happening Lola, but who had, to Lola's knowledge, never tried to help. Photos of Lola's burn scars while they were still fresh. The statement of the coroner who'd asked Irene to identify Leo's body, noting her refusal to acknowledge the truth of the matter.

Downstairs, there's the smash of a bottle.

And Nikki's reading the rest of the scattered documents. All of Lola's history.

Every few minutes, there's another smash.

By the time he's done, he finds Lola in the living room, feet covered in cuts from shattered glass, almost catatonic with coke dusted around her nose.

"Lo!"

"I can be - fuck -" she slurred heavily, "whoever th' fuck I wanna be' 'cos da's not gonna be 'round to give a shit," she snapped, "he never was." It had only been fourty-five minutes since Nikki had been home, and judging by both her state, and the kitchen, she'd drunk almost two bottles of JD, and he wasn't even going to begin to guess at how much coke she'd had, only that had been a lot. Never in all the years he'd known her had Nikki seen Lola this fucked up this quickly. Oh, he knew Lola could handle this much liquor, but never in this short amount of time.

Sitting bolt upright, she looks around wildly, as if searching for answers Nikki can't even fathom, before she can even say anything, she's crashing back down, heaving and writhing. Nikki's quick to turn her on her side, so she doesn't choke when she throws up, and her voice is raw between bouts of illness that Nikki can't quite catch what she's saying. He gets her a glass of water and calls 911.

"I need - I need - I need -" she keeps stumbling over her words,voice raspy and hands shaking.

"You're going to hospital," Nikki told her, and Lola gave him a weak shove, expression contorted with anger.

"Fuck you," she growls, "'need go Boston -"

"You need to go to hospital, you look like shit -"

"No! I need to go Boston! I'm gonna kill Irene!"

Lola's unresponsive by the time the ambulance arrives, having not even moved from the sofa despite her best efforts. Nikki's got his head in his hands in the waiting room, feeling nothing but nauseous as they pump her stomach and put her under anesthetic to remove the glass from her feet. When she wakes, she's crying and screaming, but he's by her side.

"I just want... I just want..." And she can't even say it, weak and sore,and Nikki thinks he should call the band, call Doc, call someone else, but he cant leave her side. "All I wanted was him to come back, tell me it wasn't my fault, and it would be okay; everything that had happened, it wouldn't have been right, but it would have been okay."

Nikki takes her hand.

"Nikki, just tell me I'm dreaming, please, tell me if I work hard enough he'll come back." Lola's all but begging, and Nikki's prettt sure he's nevet felt moved like this for anothet person before; it fucking hurts. He hates seeing her like this.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Lo, you don't deserve-"

"I don't deserve half the shit I've been through!" Lola cries, before crumbling, curling in on herself as best she could with all the medical equipment attached to her. "If you're not gonna lie, then at least make me believe its not my fucking fault. I didn't drive him away. It was never my fault."

Nikki pets her hair gently, his hands trembling.

"Lola, it was never your fault."

[kendrixtermina]

An Alternate Take on The Prologue

It seems to have been almost universally accepted that the events in the prologue were an assassination attempt meant to remove Dimitri and Claude so that the war would go smoother later on. I’d like to present an alternative possibility. 

I have no solid 100% certain proof I’m not even going to pretend that this is anything other than my own interpretation that’s no more valid than the other one. It’s just a possibility. 

Thus it is ultimately an opinion that I wouldn’t base further conclusions on. We don’t know for a fact that her goal wasn’t, in fact, assassination. 

Still I think because there’s quite a lot of interesting stuff going on in that scene that ppl seem to miss, that I want to dissect here regardless of wether you agree with my thesis or not

Significant Clues: 

The Actual Motive

I’m not sure if it was Seteth or a random Monk, but I think more than one character goes on about how the Church’s reputation that they worked for so many years would have been tarnished if anything happened to the heirs.  Especially when you consider there aren’t that many Blaiddyds left and even less Riegans and that both are expected to solve/end the dire chaos in their respective factions.

Now who would benefit from making the Church look bad? Someone who plans to declare war on them maybe? 

They wouldn’t put that sort of dialogue there if we weren’t supposed to conclude something from it.

This might be less obvious if you haven’t played her route (though even then, you still get her speech in all of them don’t you?) but her declaration of war was strictly against the Church and their allies. She hands out papers everywhere, exposing the Church’s wrongdoings and asking all the rulers to choose sides. Petra mentions getting one such letter. 

She knew full well that most of the Kingdom and Alliance would side with the Church (and keep fighting even after Rhea’s taken out) and that there would probably be calvacades of collateral damage,  after all the Church indoctrinates the ruling elites at the Academy and thanks to the phony “crests are divine gifts” story the nobles depend on the Church for legitimacy as rulers - but every lord who doesn’t support the Church is one whose army she doesn’t have to fight. 

When she declares war, she wants as many people as possible to either stand down or join her. Painting the church as incompetent (or, in her mind, “highlighting” their incompetence) to safeguard the precious heirs might have increased that number, if Byleth’s heroic intervention and subsequent appointment as a professor hadn’t overshadowed the whole thing. 

Also note that for this to cause a scandal, Dimitri and Claude don’t need to be dead. 

Essentially ordering a hit on herself is certainly in line with Edelgard’s other... as Claude put it, “gutsy moves” (Such as not evacuating Enbarr in GD knowing full well that Claude was not going to tear through the civilians, effectively restricting his movements) but looking at literally any other action she’s ever taken, she always goes out of her way to give people the option to surrender., consistently, all the time, all throughout her route (and even many of her engage quotes in the other routes - She offers to let Claude and Byleth go at Gronder, for example) 

She even gets this whole rant before you go to fight Claude about how she wishes people would just stand down peacefully instead of starting fights they can’t win. (which is perhaps why she tells Byleth to just go ahead and finish her once she realizes that she’s beaten in the other routes)

She’ll mow you down if you oppose her alright but first she’ll make sure that both you (and her allies all of whom get the chance to opt out) are all there because you want to be/ are actually choosing to oppose her. It’s not like her to just kill people without giving them an explanation or a choice. 

But smears and coverups? That’s another matter. There’s her whole secret identity/secret faustian Bargain thing, that time only Hubert, Byleth and Lysithea knew which fortress they’d be attacking, and how she pinned the Javelins of light on the church. That’s totally something she’d do, (which might’ve backfired on the credibility of her pamphlets; PR and negotiation are simply not her greatest strengths)

Which makes her less truthful than, say, Dimitri (I think the only time he ever remotely lied to an ally was to hide his investigations of Arundel from Dedue), but overall still not as deceptive as Claude or the Church , since these are all “tactical” lies for concrete short-term goals, nothing relating to their goals. 

Everyone on Edelgard’s side knows that she wants to abolish hereditary rule and create an equal society, even if that means making enemies; Claude tells no one what he’s planning until the very end even though the knights might not follow him if he’d told them that he means to diminish the Church’s influence on society, kinda hoping that everyone will come around on their own - He does this even with Byleth to an extent. 

(Though when it comes to the Church we must really differentiate between the Chuch as a whole established by Rhea and Seteth individually, who I’d rate as significantly more truthful than Edelgard since he only lies out of very justified self-protection and loyalty to Rhea (who is his sister, and about whose wrongdoings he only knows the tip of the iceberg), and even urges her to come clean in the end.)

Ferdinand finds it strange that they just so ran into a bunch of mercenaries and wonders if one of the house leaders knew that there were mercenaries. 

As before, that Dialogue is there for a reason. One of them probably did know. 

So who is it? Probably not Dimitri he can’t pokerface worth a damn. 

That leaves Edelgard or Claude. 

Edelgard might’ve know that there were mercenaries nearby and expected them to intervene if things went south. Or it could be Claude, and that’s why he ran off.

We know that he’s got great survival instincts, grew up in a warrior culture of sorts, and makes a habit of carefully observing his surroundings. Perhaps he just spotted a large amount of hoofprints or beaten muddy footpaths, and deduced that there might be help to be had in that direction.  

For now I’ll say that Claude is the most likely option. 

I mean it’s really like him to be a spanner in the works before he even known anything is up - also, he’s the one who ran. It’s because of HIM that the trio went that direction, not because of anything Edelgard did. 

Leave it to Claude to look like he’s bailing when he’s actually looking for help. (but also taking a bit of a risk since he didn’t know for certain that he would find help).  Also he says something like “Ain’t it great the gods of fortune sent us your way?” which is something Claude would only say ironically. 

Kostas didn’t know there would be knights

As far as he knew he was just supposed to “kill some noble pipsqueaks”

But actually, our trio wasn’t supposed to be alone - it was an exercise with Alois and bunch of knights, the elite knights of Seiros, mind you, who are renowed throughout the land. (as Edelgard herself tells you after the fight)

Meaning that Edelgard probably didn’t expect them to be beaten by a bunch of bandits.

Of course beating Claude and Dimitri themselves on their own might be another matter, at least if they’re outnumbered. Still, she must’ve known that Dimitri had seen actual war before and was aware of Claude’s suspicious arrival. 

Since she was with them one could think that she maybe lured them away from the group... except that the situation ultimately depended on at least two unpredictable factors:

- The guy who was supposed to get Byleth’s job bolted. He was supposed to be with the trio and presumably semi-competent. 

I’m surprised that he didn’t show up as an antagonist afterwards or something. We never find out anything about this guy or why he ran though it coulve been simple cowardice. 

Well, unless he too was a plant who meant to run off so Jeritza (who definitely was an imperial plant) could take his job - Didn’t someone say something about expecting Jeritza to get the job Byleth got? I think it was Felix. 

- Claude ran for it, and Dimitri chased after him

Now that’s something that Edelgard really couldn’t have predicted. It’s just Claude being Claude, and Dimitri being Dimitri and hence, heroically charging after him to help him out. 

If Claude hadn’t run off, the trio would have stayed with the knights who could presumably handle a bunch of bandits. If Dimitri hadn’t charged after him to save him, Claude’s plan would have worked without a hitch and he would have returned with allies - he was just one person, he’s the fastest/stealthiest and the least valuable target so he might’ve escaped by himself. 

But Dimitri and Claude running off? Let alone all three? That’s all the most valuable targets on a platter so the thieves went after them. Dimitri, bless his heart,  of course thought that Claude was acting as a decoy and counting on himto come after him.  (consider how he eventually really DOES expect Dimitri to bail him out at the end of Dimitri’s route)

I’d like to stress that Dimitri’s genuine, unpremeditated and unplanned action with no ulterior motive besides helping out proved to be as much of a spanner here as Claude’s clever foresight and chaotic action, and that neither of the other two had been expecting it.  

Dimitri and Claude explicitly tell us that the other two got separated from the group because they chased after Claude. (Again, if she just wanted to kill them, why not just stick with the knights and let them run to their deaths? She’d get a bonus alibi. Indeed she might’ve gone after them because she hadn’t meant for this to end lethally - though it’s fully possible that she just followed without thinking and didn’t intend to get separated)

Something to appreciate here is that while Edelgard is competent and had been planning this for a while, she’s still relatively young and inexperienced and she can only defy or constrain TWSITD so much until she gets the throne.

She has clearly been amassing allies of her own (she marches in with a bunch of relatively young, handpicked generals such as Randolph, Jeritza and Ladislava, and cuts a deal with some from the old regime such as Caspar’s and Linhardt’s dads... though how he goes out in the Church and Alliance routes suggests that Caspar’s dad had some redeeming qualities) , but even with all this and some tentative assent from Arundel and co. she still needed to make an unnanounced surprise visit to actually get her hands on the crown.

She’s not exactly in over her head, but she’s attempting to control a very volatile situation while essentially making a deal with a loose-canon devil she can just barely keep in check. 

A microcosm of what’s to come

The central tragedy of the game is that though the faction leaders were ultimately good people who had the same enemies, they wind up fighting each other before they get at the real bad guys because they’re all acting on information that other other’s don’t have and hence don’t know the other’s situation. 

In a way the introduction scene is kinda like a miniature version of that. 

Each of their individual plans/decisions might have worked, but not all three at once. 

If you think about it the way they would’ve died without Byleth’s intervention foreshadows each of their “bad” endings - Edelgard finds herself surrounded and outnumbered after he plans backfire and goes down fighting as no one else has a clue what she’s really doing, Dimitri rushes head-first into an unwinnable fight because he puts honor before reason,  misjudged someone’s intentions and doesn’t consider his own role, and Claude would’ve either bailed, or gotten himself killed when one of his plans didn’t quite turn out like he wanted. 

Too bad you can only pick one :( 

The other two stay that way. 

[chaoskirin]

The Seven Seas--Chapter Three

Fandom: Queen Genre: Sci-fi/Gen Rating: PG Chapter 3 Word Count: 1720

Freddie spent the next several hours (and hours and hours) pacing the barn and outlining a plan. For the sake of suspense, said plan will not be described here, although, wonderful readers, it might be described as amazing and daring! Filled with intricate precisiveness and wild creativity! Genius! And most importantly, incredibly unlikely to succeed!

Somewhere around the five o'clock mark, Roger ordered a pizza which never arrived due to the rather remote location of the farm. He spent the next excruciating hour complaining about his insatiable hunger, until John raided the chicken coop and fried some eggs.

Brian was torn between being appalled and relieved. After all, the chickens ought to be allowed to keep their eggs... since they made them, after all. Roger asked Brian what he thought cakes were made of, so Brian swore off cakes for at least the next couple days, at least until he could scrub the vision of affronted chickens out of his mind.

John said "at least they aren't being vaporized," which was quite sobering and put everyone directly back on task.

It should be said that the appearance of aliens on earth had a rather profound effect on Brian, who, up until that point, only hoped aliens existed. Ever the pragmatist, though, he never believed earth would make contact with the various other denizens of the universe until far after he was dead and buried. After all, relative physics still reigned supreme as the dominating theory of everything in the universe. And with no way to travel faster than the speed of light, aliens simply couldn't reach it from wherever they made their home.

Except they had. And they'd dropped by like a very undesirable relative during Christmas celebrations--everyone wanted them gone, but they had to be appeased and placated first. Perhaps even force-fed copious alcohol until they passed out in a peaceful stupor, while the kids drew fake marker mustaches under their noses.

"Do you think," Brian said to John after the four of them split into two groups. "Do you think they'd let me question them about the stars? How they got here? Where they're from?"

John blinked slowly.

"It's not a stupid idea to ask!" Brian insisted. "Just because they want to raze the planet doesn't mean I have to stop learning. And if they really think I'll spill all their secrets then they must not want to destroy me very much. I can't tattle if I'm dead. Don't you think?"

"If I say yes, will you get back to work?" John asked, flicking the end of a soldering iron at him.

Brian grunted and went back to poring over the star map Glasses left behind. He vastly preferred absolutes, whereas Freddie's "plan" just happened to be chock full of conjecture and dumb luck and a good measure of stupidity. Absolute stupidity, which Brian supposed counted as an absolute, just not the kind he wanted. That made him nervous, and therefore talkative.

"It's just..." he said as he tried to figure out Denmark's location in relation to an earth star chart. Thankfully, he never left home without one, just in case. "They could have the secrets of the whole universe stowed away on that little ship of theirs."

"And if they did, and you end up dead?" John asked. "What would you do with them?"

"Well, I'd know."

John rolled his eyes. He'd set aside the soldering gun in favor of a welding torch, and so he was able to dramatically flip the black welding mask down over his eyes to signal the end of conversation. The git. Brian looked away as John ignited the flame.

"I don't even know if it's in the right bloody hemisphere," Brian muttered to himself, returning to the star map. He couldn't read the alien language scrawled out across it, plus it appeared the aliens preferred some odd derivation of base-8 math... which meant he couldn't even parse their coordinates. He was sure it made sense to them, but in the moment, it was infuriating.

That meant he had to manually study every sector of the alien map, then line it up to the earth map. If he could figure out the first sector, he might be able to proceed. The problem was parallax. After all, why would the aliens make a map meant to be viewed from earth?

Damn parallax. Why couldn't all the species in the galaxy just decide on a standard map!

Meanwhile, John got to build... Well. Brian wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't just another cat tree for Freddie's cats.  Freddie assured everyone this little bit of the plan was critical, though. And it was up to Brian to find the proper angle of whatever it was so he could--

Ah. Wait a minute.

I'm sure you're all very bored by now, and I wouldn't blame you. After all, this is just filler really, since one can't just go from aliens arriving to aliens being defeated. The point is, all the great writers in history somehow universally decided that a story can't be told without costing its readers vast amounts of time when they should be doing other things. Say, filling their washing machine with lemonade, or ironing their socks, or stacking teacups on a sleeping cat. Or watching egg whites dry as they drip down the siding of your irritating neighbor's house. Not that the author has ever done that.

In order to create suspense and drama, most writers masterfully fill their stories with plot dynamics. However, this plot is fairly cut and dry as far as stories go, and the author is not masterful in any sense of the word, so she's just decided to waste your time with this rather pointless filler text.

However, as you've been reading this, Brian May--brilliant scientist that he is--has been using his time with all the wisdom and efficiency one would expect from a future astrophysicist. As John continued to weld his rather confusing scaffolding, Brian chanced upon the exact miniscule plot detail he could utilize to make sense of the alien map. Thusly did he shout "Eureka!" ending this particular section of the story.

You're welcome.

---

"You can't just write a whole song in one day," Roger said.

"Well, I don't intend to. We have five days," Freddie returned, straightening a bit in his seat and looking down his nose in haughty confidence. Into the phone, he said "No, I won't hold. I'm Freddie-Fucking-Mercury--What do you mean who??"

The line went dead. Not because the other side had hung up on him, but because rats had chewed clean through the phone line again. Bother of all bothers. If only he had his cats here, the damnable rats wouldn't be such an issue!

"Roger, be a dear and chase the rats off again, would you?" Freddie asked. When cats weren't an option, Rogers did just fine, and as a bonus, they didn't leave rodent corpses on your pillow in the morning. At least Freddie hoped they didn't. He probably should have asked.

"Five days or no," Roger said, returning from his chase, "the pressure must be intense. I mean, if it's going to work, it has to be perfect, doesn't it? No room for error. And you have to trust not only yourself to remember the lyrics, but you also have to have absolute faith in your bass player, and your guitar player, and your drummer who's a bit of a flake."

"Just a bit?"

"Last I checked."

Freddie tut-tutted. "It'll work. Look, it's a short story, and the author always writes happy endings. What makes you think it won't work?"

"Well, I have to be disagreeable, don't I?" Roger asked, flopping down on the couch next to Freddie. "Let's see what you've got so far."

Freddie handed over the notepad.

After a dozen quiet minutes of earnest contemplation, Roger said, "All you've written is the title."

"The Seven Seas of Rhye," Freddie declared. "It's a good title! I was thinking a sort of... Bar song, I guess. Maybe a--"

Roger was shaking his head.

"Oh, what. We've been bleeding out all our creativity lately." Freddie stood, hands on his hips. "There's none left, is there? You're right. Five days to put together a song and get people here so they can bear witness to my amazing plan? It's not long enough. We'll just have to cancel! There shouldn't be consequences for that."

"There probably won't be," Roger agreed. "Just the annihilation of humanity, I guess. Nothing major."

Freddie pursed his lips. Yes, that was a problem. He'd have to power through. As always.

"Look," Roger said, pulling a comic book out of his back pocket. He always carried one, just in case. We've got aliens on earth.

"Rhye."

"Whatever. We've got aliens. Make it epic."

Freddie paged through the comic book. Although the cover seemed to hint at an epic space battle far into the future with high-tech space suits and murderous monsters, the inner pages had been replaced by porn. Porn Freddie didn't even particularly like. "Roger," he said, holding up the least scandalous image he could find.

"Well, you weren't supposed to open it." Roger at least had the wherewithal to appear sheepish as he snatched the magazine out of Freddie's grasp. "If it gets boring in the barn, do you think I'm going to want to read comics?"

"I'd hope that you'd be writing like we're supposed to be," Freddie said, curling his nose up as Roger tossed the magazine on the end table. "Not--"

He paused as inspiration struck, and a single phrase popped into his mind.

I Stand Before You Naked to the Eye.

The basis of the song began to form around it. "Listen," Freddie said, handing Roger the phone, which was still not connected to anything. "First, I need you to take over securing the advertising to get us a proper audience. Make some calls. Get the people here. Can you do that?"

Roger nodded. "And?"

"Yes. Second, I need you to never, ever tell anyone that I got the idea for this song after looking at your raunchy porn."

Roger smiled. Narrowed his eyes. "Put I'm In Love With My Car on the B-Side to Bohemian Rhapsody and you've got yourself a deal."

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Earth, Pluto, and Sombrero Galaxy for the space asks ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Earth- Where’s your home?Because I like to be a Vague Shit I’mma answer with America. As soon as I can flee tho it’ll be Canada or somewhere fun.

Pluto- What time is it right now where you are?Hmmmm Triple Kiss I feel like you’re looking to tell me it’s bedtime again hmmmm. But for you’re information it’s about six thirty (by the time I finished the list tho it’s now like. eight thirty ish)

Sombrero Galaxy: Do you have a crush right now?Laughs in aroI do have several platonic crushes/squishes if that’s what you meant tho. And I am treating them just like one should treat crushes: telling no one and never facing my feelings. I’m good at this alright.

And idk if you saw the tags or not but you fell within the 90% chance of getting space Remy ranting because damnit I love him. In this case it’s more like... sneak peak at an idea for a fic I might write one day in the distant future of whenever school stops hating me though.

So it’s losleep because I’m predictable af

Remy who’s gone most of his life slowly having the life stomped out of him

He’s always loved space but no one wanted to listen

Like. Ever.

His rants got shorter and shorter until they just stopped happening

He started wearing his sunglasses both to hide his excitement when someone else starting talking about space (so he wouldn’t get called out or mocked) and to hide his hurt when he was mockingly called ‘starboy’(If anyone had meant it nicely, he would have loved that nickname)

He switched his constellation covered leather jacket for a plain one

By the time he made it to high school he was a whole different person

Dead inside, dead outside, missed half his classes (but still passed them all), sarcastic and generally considered the most infamous bad boy in the school

Logan of course wants nothing to do with him

Remy’s a mess, Logan’s not, and ap courses are hard enough without a bad influence

Remy doesn’t have the zeal or care to chase Logan in this one (which given my love of flirty Remy is so crazy, I know

)But a biology trip to an aquarium ends up with them as bus buddies

Logan expected to hate it but Remy’s normally quiet unless you give him something to sass so the ride there is surprisingly peacefully

And when they get there Remy lets Logan go wherever he wants and look at whatever (Remy mostly came on the trip because the teacher said it was mandatory to passing and he forgot to call in sick the morning of)Logan starts out just looking at the exhibits, pointing out a few facts

Remy doesn’t seem the most interested in what he’s saying, but sometimes his mouth will tip upwards just a little or an eyebrow raise will pass his shades

And Logan takes that positively and slowly but surely starts talking more and more and longer and longer until he finds one sign talking about sharks and just absolutely rants about all the sharks he can name, excitedly, making connections haphazardly as he jumps between species

Remy’s smile is nearly a grin at this point and damnit it’s a good thing he’s wearing sunglasses because the amount of pure adoration in his eyes was rather embarrassing

Logan glances over at him halfway through his explanation of thresher sharks- one he had been happily going on with for a full five minutes- and his speech falters, much to Remy’s disappointment

He mumbles an apology and starts to head for a different exhibit when Remy stops him like ‘??? why you stop’

And Logan looks disappointed in himself when he says he didn’t realize he had been going on so long, he is sincerely sorry, especially since Remy’s stuck with him and hence can’t walk away from his infodumping

Remy’s just ‘honey why would I want to walk away’

Logan is Surprised because like poor Remy no one’s ever wanted to listen to him rant

He tries to call Remy on faking interest and then Remy recites several new shark facts right back at him so it seems he does care

Logan’s still on edge about ranting more in the aquarium but Remy pokes him a lot for more info, and they spend the entire ride back chatting about it (read: Remy slowly falls more and more in love with Logan while the nerd continues to explain every wonder of the deep sea he can come up with)

The school has a whole scandal over the smartest kid suddenly hanging out a lot with the bad boy

They wonder what they’re planning when really every lunch is just a chance to do more ocean info dumping

As they get closer, conversation shifts into more areas: into different sciences, into maths (most of which is Remy squinting suspiciously at Logan for understanding all the formulas), into talking about fashion and movies and everything under the sun, really, except space

Logan’s started to notice how Remy will pause whenever the topic moves to space before skillfully redirecting them into another topic

Logan knows that hesitation- the hesitation of wanting to say so much and fearing it’ll be shot down immediately, a sort of fear that’s not natural so much as it is taught, and he starts to wonder if Remy’s as uncaring as he likes to pretend he is

After all, Logan came to high school swearing off feelings in general, along with ocean talk- avoiding not only a specific type of ridicule but avoiding getting hurt by any insults

It’s not that far of a stretch to assume Remy did something similar, just in a different way

So Logan, using his Big Brain suggests that one of their study dates (yeah they started having study dates a while ago. techincally they’re not dating, just studying/chatting but like,,,,,,,,,,,,, yeah) happens closer to night, sprouting some mostly bs about the brain absorbing more information at night

Remy doesn’t see anything coming so he agrees

They start off studying in Logan’s house but then Logan says he needs a break and starts to head outside

Remy’s confused as to why he’s heading outside but Logan says he likes to breathe the fresh air

When Remy questions why Logan needs to breathe the fresh air on the roof of his house Logan says he likes the height

Remy just shrugs it off and follows him because a) he’s not expecting a trap and b) Logan’s cute he wants to follow him alright

Logan, beautiful smart magnificent Logan, starts casually talking about the stars

He doesn’t know a lot about them, he notes, and then points at a random one and casually wonders out loud about what it’s named

Remy has an answer suspiciously quickly (normally he’d be more reserved but, and I will continue to say this, Logan a Cutie. he wants to impress him)

Logan slowly lures him deeper into the trap by starting with praise (’I didn’t know that. thank you for telling me.’) and follow-up questions (’what’s that one next to it?’ ‘is it a part of any major constellations?’)Remy slowly but surely gets more into it, short one-word explanations morphing into descriptions that morph into histories and exact chemical compositions (or at least what they’re believed to be) and ages and more

At some point he took his sunglasses off to see better and Logan could not be more in love

His eyes are literally sparkling, and now that Logan can see his eyes he sees they’re coffee brown with golden specks like the stars are literally in his eyes, which is a rather romantic comparison coming from Logan, but he’s pretty sure it’s just the truth

Remy’s never been as alive as he is in that moment, and Logan wants the moment to never end, to watch Remy continue to point and gesture and explain, jumping between history and mythology and science, and Logan’s suddenly unsure why he ever questioned Remy’s ability to do so well in school- he’s just always been hiding his reasons for knowing so much

Exactly like Logan did, he glances over for a moment, and Logan was ready to faint at the utter joy on his face, and ready to cry at how quickly it died as Remy shut his mouth like a steel trap

His apology is brief, just a tough ‘sorry’ followed by a ‘we should probably get back to studying...’He tries to leave and Logan grabs his arm before he can, getting him a confused stare that’s both hopeful and pained

Logan askes why he stopped

Remy says something about boring Logan/getting in the way of study time/other miscellaneous bs

And Logan just goes ‘I don’t think you could ever bore me. Especially not with such an interesting topic. And one you enjoy so thoroughly’

Remy’s highkey ‘excuse me lies are mean’

‘good thing I’m not lying then’

Remy: :O

Remy’s further attempts to avoid the issue eventually lead to Logan just stating the obvious of ‘you listened to me infodump about the ocean why can’t I listen to you infodump about the universe’

‘this is different’

‘I find that doubtful’

‘the ocean is really interesting, who wouldn’t want to listen to a rant about it- and hey you looked so cute and happy to, I mean it would be criminal not to listen-’

‘the universe is just as interesting as the oceans, arguably more so. and the way you phrase that, as if you are not just as cute and happy- unarguably more so- is quite misleading’

Remy’s been minorly murdered by both genuine interest in his interest and also that compliment

He finally mutters something about starboy (’but I’m just starboy...’)

Logan’s Confusion and when Remy mumbles how that’s what all the middle school classmates called him he’s minorly (read: MAJORLY) furious

Like yeah he went through the same thing but doing this to Remy ??? illegal

He says so

Remy scoffs

Logan says so again, but with more feeling

Remy scoffs again but with less feeling. He mentions, offhandedly, that is wasn’t really that bad of a nickname- it was the venom everyone had in their tone when they said it that made it awful

Logan Sees An Opening And Makes His Move

He scoots closer to Remy and gently cups his face and turns him to look at him, and softly, so softly, a whisper in the night, lost as quickly as a speck of sand from the top to the bottom of the hourglass in the light wind, he says,

‘then let’s lose the venom’ quietly quietly ‘and you can be my starboy’ a promise, a lovely promise, lovelier than any promise Remy has heard before, so sincere, so perfect, and sworn beneath a starry sky of cloudless night, where every star will hold that promise and watch it too completion, galaxies swirling in beautiful normality as they inch closer and closer like stars too close and spiraling towards each other until they meet, and instead of the vast darkness of a black hole forming something so bright it would sear your eyes right out of your face explodes into existence instead

A lovely night to fall in love and be loved for all of you, even the bits the world tried to force you to hide