#Remember that one scene where he actively attempts to get drunk at a bar because he's Aware he loves them but refuses to acknowledge it

[genia-caliber]

😌

I'm the type of Spy x Family fan that sees so much angst potential in Identity RevealsTM, so I'm thinking about the heartbreak Yor will feel after it, when she'll realize that Loid is not as kind as she thought he was.

When she meets him, from her point of view, he's just a widowed father who wants the best education of his daughter, at the same time honouring his late wife's dying wish. Investing in a child's good education is something Yor greatly relates to, seeing how hard she worked to provide one for Yuri. Point one.

She asks him to play the part of her boyfriend, and he immediately accepts; he asks for a favour back, but he's satisfied with only Yor's promise to keep her end of the deal. He's showing trust in her and kindness by being willing to fulfill his end of the deal first, thus risking Yor walking out on her promise. Point two.

Despite being injured - something that Yor fully trusts is an occupational hazard for him (I mean, it is, but not because of the occupation she really thinks of) - he still fulfills his end of the deal, albeit messing up and saying he's her husband (though this doesn't count as much, because it came to Yor's advantage in the end). Point three.

(Remember, at this point Yor doesn't know of Loid's plan to convince her to marry him officially, and that this was why he mixed up his introduction. She just thought he made an unrelated mistake out of rush and being wounded)

Taking the opportunity from Loid's mistake of calling himself her husband, Yor asks him to marry her (again, she has no idea of his actual plans; she only knows he wanted her to pretend to be his wife for the interview and only, and that then they'd part ways). He immediately accepts and actually vows to be there for her in difficult times. Point four.

He welcomes her into his family and home, even giving her her own bedroom and her privacy. He has no demands of her regarding to household chores, praises how clean she keeps the apartment - even in front of a misogynistic guy who has power over them in the interview (and we as the audience know that was not For the Mission, as Twilight immediately goes like "Wait why am I getting worked up over this") - he trusts her input when it comes to raising Anya, shows genuine happiness and praise when she makes a tasty meal for them, all of that culminating in the bench scene where he openly and emotionally praises what she fears is a deal-breaker flaw of hers, her physical strength. Point five.

He accepts her eccentric brother that she adores, and after the messy meeting they had with him where said brother left cursing at Loid left and right, Loid is not only understanding, he also opens up about how he envies her relationship with Yuri (and again, we the audience know it's an honestly vulnerable moment for him; not a For The Mission thing). Point six.

So overall, she gets the image of a kind, trusting fellow who is willing to help her despite there not being any (obvious) gains for him outside having a wife stand-in for the interview. To her, Loid had no reasons to keep up their agreement after the interview, especially after Anya got in the school. But he still gladly keeps it on while doing his best to be a good and supportive roommate... and friend.

Like, we joke how gullible Yor is, and not only when it comes to him. But from her point of view, what with especially hiding from him that she's an assassin of all things, he's just as much if not more gullible.

Through all that, Yor genuinely builds feelings for the Forger family - and unlike Twilight, she's much faster in accepting and embracing them. She has no reason to act motherly towards Anya; heck, she has no reason to even spend time with them when they're indoors. She could just stay in her room all the time and never take part in dining together, helping Anya with her homework and activities (like how she helped Anya train for the dodgeball game) and being by their side in general. In only a few months' time, she's already invested in them emotionally so much that the thought of leaving them terrifies her. She's been truly kind and open with them, and now wishes she can keep her place in the family, and not for her job - but because she truly cherishes that place.

So... yeah. Think how all that will come breaking down when she finds out what Loid's original plan was :)

He wasn't trying to get Anya into Eden to provide for her future, nor honouring his "late wife's" dying wish; it was for the mission, after the end of which he fully intended on abandoning Anya.

He didn't agree to play her boyfriend out of kindness; it was to have a leverage over her so that she'd keep her end of the deal - and god I just thought how she might think that him introducing himself as her husband was intentional so that he'd back her up into a corner later to actually marry him (something we know isn't true, but maybe in a very emotional aftermath of identity reveals Yor could very well consider a possibility).

He didn't accept to marry her because he was being helpful towards her - he was simply advancing his own mission.

Now, we know that a lot of the things Loid praises her for come from the truest depths of himself, but Yor does not have the audience's point of view to see that - when she learns that he's a spy and that he's told her so many lies, she'll have no reason to believe anything of what he's told her is true.

His interest in Anya's future, the trust and acceptance he showed her, his supporting words, his efforts to be a good roommate, the vulnerability he showed her... those are all things that Yor would've admired him for, and from a romance perspective, fell in love with him for. Those will all be doubted by her when she finds out what he really is and it will be devastating.

As many other people do, I doubt Yor will be upset by him having lied to her about his job, because she did the same. The heartbreak will come from her knowing she showed her true self as the wife and mother of the Forgers, while when the truth comes out she'll have no idea who the real man behind Loid Forger is. She trusted him, supported him, protected him, opened up to him, fell in love with him... and then that "him" will be pulled from under her feet to reveal a guy who has been using her from the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Of course, like the next twiyor shipper, I want that to resolve into Twilight proving to her that the feelings he grew for her and Anya, the trust he showed her and the connection he built with them were genuine, and the family staying together by the end. I JUST WANT THAT ANGST FIRST.

(No manga spoilers please 😁)

[devilslinks]

# 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 !

— 𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗕 𝗙𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 | 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔, 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.

wc; ( 3.2k )

synopsis; your best friend, raihan and you find yourselves eager to get intoxicated in one another's company. what better place than a night-club, dim lights, the overwhelmin' musk of the various alcoholic beverages; it's every guy pairs wet dream. that is until raihan gets shit-faced and excuses himself to the restroom while he pukes up his spiked guts. only to return to watch his sister take you balls deep, down her throat.

a/n: no brain, only nessa and her magical throat 🤝

warnings. MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, family!au, raihan and nessa are siblings, club sex, intoxication, dirty talk, the name princess, deep throating, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, throat fucking, cum eating, flirty!nessa, jealous!raihan, exhibitionism, voyeurism.

euphoria.

that was the only word that came mind when raihan and you got involved in recreational activities like you did. galar was a go big or go home type of region, and the two of you stayed true to that motto. the itchy, messily thrown together suits that matched all the way down to the type of socks you had on— the overexcessive amounts of booze, and the loud music which just barely drowned out the fits of laughter and discussion littered throughout the packed club. as soon as the doors opened, flooding your senses with nothing but the sickly sweet, aroma of sex and other intoxicating chemicals; that's how you knew the had night begun.

the two of you had been indulging, before you arrived on the scene— time seemed to blur together with head-spinning speeds or come to a full halt at the worst of moments. you don't even know how long you'd been locking eyes with the transparent shapes and manufactured blurbs dancing across the wall a good, twenty, maybe thirty feet adjacent to your seat at the drink counter. the weight of something too heavy for your alcohol infused mind to register until the bar hostess was practically brewing with irritation at your non-compliance with her attempts to have you regain control of your dazed state; sat lazily in-between your pointer finger and thumb, respectively.

hell you don't even remember waddling over to the bar with the company you had brought with you. but you didn't mind, the painfully challenging to recall memories mattered not when there was already another drink swirling around the rim of your shot-glass. raihan's shifty frame wiggling in and out of your peripherals as you tug the half-empty cup to the skin of your lips, craning your head back to knock down whatever liquid remained at the bottom. the delicious burn of toxins coated the lining of your throat, trails of steamy fluid leaving their mark as the mystery liquor made it way down your esophagus. whatever it was, it packed a punch and wasted no time forcing your lips to curve into a bitter sneer— eyebrows shadowing your face in a sour demeanor, as you used the hem of your suit sleeve to whisk away any spilt mixture that tarnished your cherry red lips.

you hardly have the chance to open your mouth for a second time to address the swaying body, huddled closer the counter than it is to your own. raihan is a total mess, loopsy, and feverishly hot skin to compliment— he's stained a harsh, sickly green against his natural melanin tone. doubling over in either pain or the sudden flow of too many drinks pooling in his system; whatever the emotion he was enduring was, he wasted not a second longer before hustling off into the large gathering of people. disappearing before his lips could slur the final word, missing from his dialect.

“hh..h fuck- my stomach is gonna explode, i'll catch you-” his gravely tone churning into the backdrop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation; the familiar hum of lyrics to a song you couldn't quite place your finger on replaced whatever words raihan had previously gargled out before dashing off towards the public restrooms.

your head feels like it weighs a metric ton this late into the night, threatening to tumble forward as if your neck had lost any and all of it's support. your eyelids pulling down roughly over your eyes like window shades before the sudden wave of loneliness hit you like a truck. fiddling with the collar of your dress-shirt was entertaining enough to fill the void that was the now empty stool, where your best friend once resided. but that quick fix subsided rather easily and the once overwhelming presence of boredom had returned to take a seat.

and then, so did she.

“shit, rai- back so soon? you alright?” your vision was foggy and adorned with blurry bits here and there— but it was still evident enough to make out that, whoever was indeed now in your friend's seat, was not the person you had chauffeured to the club with.

“damn, do i really look, that bad? it's me, y/n. the painfully better looking sibling. what did that idiot put in your drink?” the speech is followed by a laugh. it was a warm and inviting chuckle, one that seemed to relax every muscle in your liquor tense body the moment she parted her spit silken lips. you had been in her company earlier that evening, which made it a tad easier for your incoherent mindset to process it. but nevertheless it was hard not to distinguish who the women paying you a visit was at this point, even if you hadn't engaged with her previously; nessa was infamous for those enchanting looks. and in your dumbified state, those gorgeous navy locks tied together by aquamarine highlights were one of a kind and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the room of normal presenting citizens. though your brain didn't want to pick-up any of your surroundings, you found it quite easy to fawn over her in that ebony dress and the way it hugged her curves in all the right places.

“fuck.. nes' when'd you get so.. so.” you couldn't even find the energy or hell, the words to cough up the remainder of the sentence, you were so taken aback by how stunning she was, even behind your bleary, drunk eyes. but nessa wasn't oblivious— you were sure she had picked up the hint you had layed out so bluntly, and the warm palm slowly inching up your clothed thigh secured that suspension for you.

“not even so much as a greeting? you didn't even buy me a drink first; asshole.”

her words are firm, yet so light hearted at the same time; but just enough to set your arousal over the edge. your headspace so vulnerable to teasing that you're certain she knew what she was doing to your conflicted mind and body. her sly fingers are enough to coax you to shuffle your bar-stool closer to her's— not a single word wriggled around your throat in response, instead the tangy after-tase of alcohol still heavy on your tongue distracted you and you were sure the whole bar could acknowledge your intoxicated musk.

her features held so many different emotions at once, as she pryed you for a reply— trying to tell you each one obscured behind that pretty face, way too quickly for you to decipher. her brows furrowed quizzically, one tilted slightly higher than the other as her half lidded doe-eyes stared up at you like prey at a final stand off with their predator; just humbly surrending their body to the circle of life.

“hah, you're one to.. talk, nes' just because 'm out of it- doesn't mean my numb skin can't feel your heavy hand toying with my waistband.” the both of you swiftly changed direction, heads leering down at nessa's free hand. you were infact correct, you observed as the woman swirled shapes into the expensive leather of your belt. pulling bits between her fingers now and then as she silently struggled with the metalic buckle. your groin swelled tightly, gripping your boxers closer to the fat bulge behind your suit pants; it would take an idiot not to take notice of the wrinkled fabric secured around your aching dick. her skin felt like a furnace, contrasting your slightly cooler temperature— but with her body pressing so desperately to yours, you were sure the warmth from her melted over onto your feverish flesh. the damp, sheen of anxious sweat made the fabric of your suit, dewy. sticking slightly against your hellish skin.

“mm, i guess i was wrong about the greeting part— hello there, you look happy to see me.” not a hint of shame obscured her voice, you're miserably watching nessa shift her weight as she now palms at the mound between your legs. you've seen countless renditions of this night loop in your head, but now that the scenario is a reality; it's agonizing to try to contain your primal urges, face to face. it's a chore not to profess all the vile things you wanna carry out with her, but she's already one step ahead. that glare is dangerous, it makes you feel like she's trying convey that the two of you are already in on something devious.

“let me take care of you.. y/n.”

“let me treat you, nessa.”

the both of you drawl out in what would be perfect unison if your mind wasn't foggy and running slower than usual. you had both finally voiced the elephant in the room, the one which was just positively dripping with thick tension up until this moment in time. you're still squirming under nessa's grip, she can feel you whine and pant everytime she gives your cock a light squeeze between her fingers and it's not long before the two of you are absent from the bar and clawing at one another's linen around the corner. closest to any vacant area within eye-shot. well, as vacant as a small room seperated from the bustling club-life can get.

did you think the night would come to a close with your friend's sister skillfully sucking the soul out of your sloppy cock? not in a million years, but you'd be damned if you didn't want it to end on any other note. nessa fell to her knees before the two of you even made it out of view— planting herself in-between your thighs like she was a trained professional; no flaws in her technique as her tongue slid obediently from her mouth and latches onto the moist fabric masking her mouth's destination. nessa's fingers are long and slender, as they snake up your hips and meet at the belt tangled around your waist. you can feel your cock pumping against the seams of your pants, the uncomfortable sensation making it appear as though you'd rip through the cloth if your cock was imprisoned a second longer.

with the head-splitting atmosphere of the club playlist stretching and stuffing your ears to the brim with fast pitched edm that made your skull pound and jitter. as well as the added hum of the gym leader whispering inaudible nothings against your bulge as she at last pushed your pants down, and past your ankles; material getting caught on the fancy design of your shoes. you felt like you were on the brink of death, but the enticing appeal of hooking up with your best friend's relative kept your iron-will alive long enough to rough it out and pass the irritation that came with being black-out drunk.

your storm of worries fizzled just as quickly as they sprung up, maybe it was the alcohol but you swear this girl had the hands of the divine; you were washed away into infatuation once more. nessa's teeth hike up your boxers until they meet the waistline, pulling down on the hem with a familiar aggressiveness as she relishes in the way your big dick pops to life and looms over her lustful features; all chubby 'n decorated with veins fer' her viewing pleasure.

“shit.. i'm gonna have so much fun with your cock. you wanna make your stupid slut already? my mouth is just asking for it.” the first piece is low and almost voiced as if it was meant for her ears only— but the second half is most definitely directed at you; as she tilts her head to plant a few delicate lovebites along the base of your shaft. fingers looping gracefully around your hilt as she admires the girth you carry.

“fuck..” you hiss, cock twitching violently as you pleaded with sinful eyes. she had barely started her reign over your dick before guttural groans and mewls slid past your lips. the sensation of her tiny tastebuds as they trailed over the little glob of pre-cum that drooled from your cockhead was insatiable. the sudden action sent your hips forward almost automatically, like they instinctively acted on impulse; it felt so right. merely a few inches breached past her lips but there was enough speed and prowess in your thrust to drag a surprise gag from the mouth attached to your dick.

impatience was on the horizon, the buzz from copious amounts of alcohol had knocked down a few pegs. you were now fully aware of the figure positioned at your feet like she was praying for a god, and soon you'd make her chant like she was being fucked by one as well. broad fingers clamped down, squishing both sides of her jaw while simultaneously easing your length deeper, and deeper down her gullet like your dick was her last meal on earth. you throw your head back before letting it fall forward against the wall, watching those desperate dark iris' pool with puddles of lust that seem to be neverending.

“come'on princess, you know how badly you want this-- you gonna let me ruin this pretty throat?” you thumb over her warm cheeks, eyes glossy and threatening to ruin the simple makeup she applied before she arrived. the uncomfortable stretch of her esophagus molding as your cock fills the empty gaps in her throat with every inch you have; is one that isn't unfamiliar to her. dragging your pulsating veins along the dip in her mouth, her tongue greedily laps up any and all of the skin yet to be consumed by her.

“jesus.. fuck, oh fuck. take it, nes'. shit.” your cock fully slips into her, heavy and swollen as it spears her right down the middle; eyes rolling back into her skull as it's just too fucking big. bigger than anything she's previously had inside of her, anyway. your core bleeds with spots of warmth as you take the time to bask in the way every individual wall in her mouth feels as it constricts you almost painfully. sucking you in before she slides you back out of her throat once more; repeating the tedious cylce that has the two of you in a heated frenzy.

despite all the sudden and erratic pain, nessa bobs her head in sync, coaxing you to go as deep as humanly possible. rocking your hips as they snap against her face with every good fuck you give her— watching yourself grow rapidly from the outside of her neck, the moist skin now holding a curved bump near the middle. nessa takes the initiative. removing a hand from one of your thighs, she uses four fingers to lightly push and stroke the bulge; almost as if she was jerking you off while you ravaged her inards.

she knew exactly what she was doing, and it had you riled the fuck up.

you picked up the pace, delirious from the amount of stimulation your precious cock was receiving. with your erection fully encased by her face and your dick bouncing off the gummy walls of her gullet, you could tell her throat was already forming bruises with a throbbing soreness to compliment, time come the morning. your rough hands dig behind the back of her head, hands feeling lost amongst her ocean of hair— beautiful locks just perfect for pulling. you yank her face forward, lowering yours as well to not only established authority but to get your point across to the cockdrunk slut mindlessly slobbering all over your messy shaft.

“mfph-- please, cum.. i want- all!” you can just barely string together what sounds like whines for more— i guess she can sense just how close the knot in your stomach is to bursting because she grips the back of your thighs and tugs them forward with whatever coherent muscle strength she has remaining. just in time for the tension in your core to coil tighter and tighter, the lowerhalf of your body trembling with all the signs of an incoming orgasm.

“does my dumb little girl wanna be fucked, that, bad? hah, fuck nes' what would your brother think?” you mock so cruelly, totally disregarding the fact that there is a slim possibility, raihan is searching for the lost pair. and it just so happens that nessa's poor little brother had been observing for a little over half the engagement. fist wrapped around his pathetic cock, suit collar pulled between his fangs, ocean blue eyes fixated on you; your hip strength, the way you rolled and plunged balls deep into his sibling. his body felt so empty, only riding his high off the two of yours', praying he'd finish before you caught him lurking like a sleaze. it was so unfair, why did nessa get to taste your sultry cock before he did?

you can feel the bass reverberate in nessa's throat as her lips nip at your hilt, impatiently trying to babble out a response adequate enough to your liking. her mind is flying, no correct sense of direction as it attempts to form a reply, but all that breaks past the barrier is a few pitiful mewls. her nose is burried in your pubes and she's lost all feeling in her throat, only motivating her to show off the lump on her neck even more. you watch as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth for the hundredth time that night, hands pushing down the lacy strap of her dress in a last ditch effort to find something other than her hair to latch onto for support. her scalp is on fire and she can only accept the stinging sensation as the roughness of your thrusts increase in magnitude.

the club is filled to the brim with lewd moans and needy pants; those of which included raihan's. every inch of her esophagus is being used— you happily ram your cock down her throat a few more times, your balls were quivering wildly. contracting and spasming, boiling with a fat wad of potent seed all ready to venture inside of her. nessa squeals, feeling a thick bulge travel up the length of your cock, up to the head and straight on her tongue; some spurts flowing down her neck while the rest collected in her mouth. painting her insides a translucent white that would surely stain.

just for good measure, nessa deep throats your empty dick with a few simple strokes; a white, sticky ring forming around the base of your shaft after she detached from your dick. a lewd pop, followed by a line of stringy saliva connected her lips to your bottomed out cock before she ruined the trail by letting her tongue lull from behind her teeth. letting you get a nice overhead view of her empty mouth, watching as the last bits of your load traveled down her throat and out of sight for good.

“god.. such a g'girl. you sucked on my cock so nicely, princess. wasn't that a way to end the night?” a blissed out smile creeps over your face, marveling in the aftermath you caused. you gave the right side of her face a few taps from your cock— dried tears and sloppy makeup tainting her cheeks. cum dripping from the corners of her mouth, as a cocktail of her own spit and your semen coats the back of her throat. it was all one big look of;

euphoria.

[mattness]

somebody to love [au]

Genres: Romantic, AU, Fluff, Songfic Note: Sorry for stupid little mistakes, it's my clumsy translation:)

1986

At another noisy party Jacob Frye was actively leaning on beer and looking for some girl to whom he'd buzz all ears about the recently released album of Queen. He had already drunk a decent amount of beer, and now he was looking for a "victim". But the third girl turned up her nose, not wanting to listen, how brilliant the Queen's songs are. It's strange that he didn't manage to talk to anyone with the same success as when he was sober. He looked very well: perfectly styled and combed hair, leather jacket, black t-shirt and jeans. Frye was sure that he wouldn't leave here alone today, but hope of a hot continuation of the night for the third time slipped away.

Jacob walked down the corridor with a sigh, where only couples in love hung around. He looked into the living room, hoping to find one of his friends, Ezio or Edward, but they're not there. Suddenly, the gaze of green eyes stopped on girl sitting alone on sofa in front of TV. She looked quite nice, concluded the drunker mind of Jacob, who had already gone with the fourth attempt to prove the genius of Queen.

"Do you know, why the song "Somebody To Love" from new Queen's album is the best?" Frye asked, sitting impressively on the sofa next to the girl, placing his hand behind her.

She looked up from the contemplation of the glass with a drink in her hands, looking with a grin at Jacob, who was ready to smile triumphantly. Well, at least someone paid attention!

"Why?"

"Because it's my favorite song".

"You should have thought of something better for flirting", she snickered, and Jacob raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Is it really that bad?"

"Terrible."

"Then, why you haven't left yet?" he snorted resentfully, not taking his eyes off the girl, who didn't stop smiling.

"I was waiting for a music lover like me to come up to talk", she shrugged, and Jacob smiled broadly, immediately suggesting that they go somewhere, where is quieter. She didn't refuse.

They left the house and went outside, where walked slowly towards the campus park. It was a warm summer night. Jacob didn't stop talking all the way, speaking with pleasure about his favorite band, and girl walked next to him, listening attentively, without interrupting. Soon they sat down on a bench, and Frye suddenly came to his senses.

"I'm sorry. Where is my politeness?" he reproached himself, smiling charmingly. "I'm Jacob. What's your name?"

"Gwen", she smiled, and drunk Frye caught himself thinking, that he'd never seen such a beatiful smile before. Perhaps, his hormones and a strong desire to have sex with someone today spoke in him, but girl was really beautiful.

"And... what do you listen?"

"I also like Queen, but I prefer Elton John", Gwen confessed.

"Elton John is a pop singer", Jacob sneered, but it didn't hurt her at all.

"He's a great pop singer. In general, I listen a lot of things."

"Can I rate your vinyl collection?" he arched his eyebrows playfully, directly hinting at his desires at the moment, which made Gwendolyn laugh heartily. "What? Is that even worse than the first one?"

Gwen gave him a curt nod and a friendly pat on his shoulder.

"Unfortunately, you won't have sex tonight, Jacob."

The girl got up from bench and slowly headed towards to the women's dormitory. Jacob, outraged by this turn of events, jumped up from seat and caught up with her. Now he was walking in front of Gwen.

"Tell me, would you sleep with me?"

"Only to Elton John's songs", she joked, and Jacob rolled his eyes.

"Would you? Seriously."

"Good night, Jacob", Gwendolyn said. Frye saw off his last hope for sex tonight and decided to return to the dormitory with a disappointed sigh. The evening was definitely not a good one from the beginning.

In upset feelings, Frye went into the room, to which his neighbor hadn't even returned yet. This only made him more upset than before. He flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling in silence until he fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, from the morning, Jacob went extremely dissatisfied, and this didn't go unnoticed by his friends. At lunchtime, as usual, they gathered at the same table in the large students dining room, chatting about the latest events and about something else quite insignificant. Jacob didn't really listen, taking to part in the conversation, although he usually always teased them.

"You're so quiet today, Frye", Edward remarked with his mouth full.

"All girls refused him yesterday", Ezio grinned maliciously cathcing his friend's displeased look. "Really, there wasn't a single girl, who would like to listen to your rave reviews about the latest Queen's album?"

"Go to Hell, Ezio", Jacob snapped.

"You should have heard his flirting on a drunken stupor... If I were a not very smart girl, I wouldn't have fuck with him either", Arno laughed, and a loud, friendly guffaw rolled around their table, but Jacob didn't care. Suddenly, he noticed among the crowd of students a girl, who confessed her love for works of Elton John yesterday. Due to the fact that Frye had drunk too much, he didn't really see her, but he remembered, that she was short with dark brown hair. Now, seeing her with friends, Jacob noticed, that she's really attractive. Especially in this light cotton dress with striped tights.

"Hey, what are you staring at?" Edward waved his hand in front of Frye's face, but Jacob didn't react in any way. His friends followed his gaze.

"Oh, what a cute little one", Auditore smiled. "Will you come to her, Jacob?"

Waking up from a slight obsession, Jacob didn't answer anything, jumped up from his seat and quickly closed the distance to table, where Gwendolyn was sitting. He took an empty chair, turned it back forward and sat down with them as if nothing had happened, which caused girls to stop chatting.

"Oh, Queen fan himself", Gwen grinned, her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail today.

Her friends looked at each other with same grin on their faces.

"I want to ask you have a dinner with me", Jacob smiled, ignoring the others. Right now, he was completely engrossed in the big brown eyes. There was a gleam of interest in them. "Agree. You'll like it."

"Only if you turn on Abba's "Dancing Queen" on your player, heavy metal lover", Gwen said with a giggle, looking very pleased, when Jacob was confused, apparently not immediately understanding, what was it.

"But this is —" he tried to be indignant.

"So, this is also shitty music?" girl interrupted, making an impassive face and turning away from him. But Jacob wasn't going to give up just like that. And if he gave up so easily, he wouldn't be himself.

"Okay, okay! We'll listen to all your favorite music, if you agree to have a dinner with me!"

Gwendolyn turned her attention back to him and smiled warmly. Jacob smiled back.

"Fine. Friday evening?"

"No. Tonight."

"But I have —"

"You've already agreed", Frye interrupted with a wink. Girl exchanged glances with her friends, and they nodded approvingly to her. "I meet you after all classes, right? Just tell me number of the audience."

Gwen called the right class and time, and Jacob, smiling at all girls, hurried back to the table to his friends, who'd watched the whole scene from the beggining. Now his mood is just fine.

It was very hard to wait for the evening. It seemed that time was deliberately dragging on too long, delaying the moment of a date with a girl, who seemed to love music as much as he did. At least, she knew who Queen was, and Jacob was ready to marry her. Of course, this is a rather loud statement, but how nice it was for him. That's why he was waiting so long for half past six in the evening to be at the audience number "345".

The bell rang, and the students, one by one, began to leave the history lesson. Jacob looked for Gwendolyn, who had gone out in the company of her friends. Noticing Frye, she said goodbye to them and approached him with a smile.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To a small but very nice bar on the outskirts of Cambridge", he smiled, offering to take his arm. The girl didn't mind.

"Is it far away?"

"I have a car."

Jacob was the proud owner of a red Mustang, a model of the seventy-fourth year, which made him the envy of almost everyone on campus. And he often drove girls on it. Everyone was in love with this car, including him.

Frye gallantly opened the door for Gwen, and she climbed into the salon.

"Will I turn on Queen?" Jacob asked, already sitting behind the wheel.

"Oh, no", Gwen giggled. She took a cassette of Elton John's new album out of her backpack. "Please. Listen to at least a couple of songs, and then, if you don't like it at all, turn on your own."

"All right, a pop fan", Jacob said with a mockery in his voice, and she just laughed, so sincerely that something jumped in his heart. The cassette was in the tape recorder, and the salon was filled with pleasant notes from the song "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word". Jacob began to listen the words, and Gwen began to sing along softly. The song was touching, a little sad, but he really liked it. It even made him think about how lonely he really was, but all the longing was knocked down by the next "Between Seventeen and Twenty", which seems to be perfect for driving.

A completely different plan for the evening with Gwen was born in Jacob's head, very different from the original one. So they stopped at the nearest store, bought food and a couple of bottles of beer. The Mustang was parked on a high hill with an impressive view of the whole of Cambridge. Jacob liked to come here alone, enjoy music and think about everything in the world. It was a private place, but now he is ready to share it with Gwen.

"Do you like Elton?" the girl was curious when the tape ended, and Jacob turned off the engine.

"Exceeded all my expectations", he said honestly. With the next tape, he turned on Queen. While the first songs were playing, the couple talked about everything, getting to know each other better. Jacob liked Gwendolyn more and more, and he saw in her something like a kindred spirit.

As soon as the food was eaten and the beer was drunk, Jacob got out of the car with Gwen. In the cold of the evening, he offered to dance. Exactly at this moment, his favorite "Somebody To Love" started playing. Jacob began to dance and sing along, not taking his eyes off the girl, who couldn't help but smile. Their hands were constantly intertwined. He pulled her to waist, already singing along to Freddie in a half-whisper.

Frye's voice caressed her ears, and Gwen felt a magical warmth spread in her chest. It was something incredible. She had never experienced anything like this with any guy before. Jacob was special. And suddenly she understood, why he liked this particular song so much.

"Why did you stop smiling? What is it?" he asked, stopping when he noticed her sad look.

"I feel like I'm in this song, too", Gwen said seriously, looking into his green eyes. "It seems that it doesn't sound sad, but... its meaning is very close to me. I understand why you like it so much, Jacob."

Frye raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn't interrupt her.

"You're the same. Behind the external fun and recklessness, you hide your loneliness, you just want someone to love you as selflessly and endlessly as you are ready to love someone", Gwendolyn smiled sadly, gently stroking his shoulders, realizing from his discouraged face, that she'd hit the nail on the head. Jacob remained in a sincere stupor for several minutes, gradually agreeing with every word she said.

"I'm sorry if I —" Gwen hurried to add, because the silence dragged on, but she didn't have time to finish. Jacob leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.

The girl answered with pleasure, smiling through the kiss.

"Can I call you Gwenny?" Jacob asked when the air in his lungs ran out. Gwen nodded, receiving another kiss. "Please be my... my girlfriend, Gwenny."

"If you turn on Abba's Mama Mia", Gwen joked, and Frye laughed.

"I'm ready to turn on anything, as long as you're be mine."

They laughed together and danced to their favorite songs for the rest of the night. As soon as the notes of "Mamma Mia" rang out, Gwen began to sing along, without taking her eyes off Jacob, who was looking at her with the most satisfied look, falling more and more in love with every second. He felt, that he would never be as happy with anyone as with this girl. On the last chorus, she came close, pressing her whole body against him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him a couple of times on the scar on his cheek, and whispered on his lips:

"My, my, I could never let you go."

Jacob smiled broadly, drowning in blissful oblivion and forgetting about everything around him. His whole world now consisted of cassettes with his favorite songs, a red mustang, a beautiful and happy Gwendolyn in his arms, and an evening that instantly stopped being cold. And only the happiest time was waiting for them ahead.

[brighterthanghosts]

Meant for Romance

Word count: 1,893

Part 1/1

Pairing: Taishiro (past Koumi)

Read below the cut or on ao3

Summary:  “So let me get this straight,” Miyako says, swiftly biting into her toast. “You got sloppy drunk on a Tuesday and hooked up with your hot best friend. He let you sleep in his bed overnight and brought you breakfast.” 

“And now you’re here, having breakfast with me,” Miyako says with a bored sigh, “When you could be having a coffee-flavored makeout sesh with your hot best friend.”

Heavily implied nsfw. Lots of awkward. Humor maybe? Largely fueled by too much coffee at 4 a.m.

So warm.

Koushiro doesn’t remember ever feeling so cozy in his life. He knows he needs to get up soon — the morning sun on the other side of his eyelids beckons him to start the day. But sleep is still within his grasp, and his pillow smells so nice, like sage and bergamot and mint. He recognizes that scent, though he can’t quite place it, but his brain supplies him with hot breaths on his neck and a husky coo of his name.

Koushiro shivers, pulls the cotton sheet under his chin, and revels in the way it drags across his skin. His skin. All of his skin.

Eyes snapping open, Koushiro jolts up. The sheet, having fallen to the tops of his thighs, answers his first question, but — Where the hell am I?

He remembers Mimi, her pretty hair pulled back, making her deep-set frown stand out even more. She told him it wasn’t working out, that there’s someone else, that this just wasn’t doing it for her anymore. I wasn’t doing it for her at all.

He remembers calling Taichi, desperate and agonizing. Taichi saying he’d be there in 30 minutes. Taichi hailing down a cab to take them to a bar where “the drinks are cheap and totally worth it.” Taichi making him feel better instantly with big grins and fond laughter because that’s what friends do.

Spotting his clothes loosely folded on the desk chair across from the bed, Koushiro moves hastily and slips his underwear on, left foot then right foot. He knows he told Taichi about the breakup. Well, it wasn’t really a breakup, considering he and Mimi had never put a label to what they were doing, which wasn’t much.

Koushiro was busy, and Mimi was needy. She needed things from him that he couldn’t give. They’d tried to engage in sexual activities exactly twice, and neither time could Koushiro perform. It was something that embarrassed him to no end because he liked Mimi and he thought she was cute, but for the entire 8 months they were seeing each other, his body just wouldn’t respond.

Taichi spent most of that conversation listening, Koushiro realizes now, and he never poked fun or judged him. He loves that about Taichi. He’s working on the fourth button of his white dress shirt when his eyes dart to a Polaroid photo propped up on the desk. In the bottom right-hand corner reads ‘The Yagamis 2002.’  Nonononono.

And it hits him like a bullet train. Rough hands, harsh lips. Hips colliding, hot with need. Smooth, sun-kissed skin everywhere. Taichi over him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Perfect. You’re so perfect.”

“Fuck,” Koushiro stutters, palms suddenly clamy. He’s got both legs in his pants, pulling them up in one swoop, and he hears the door unlock. Fuck.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Taichi says, smiling. At least, Koushiro suspects he’s smiling, but he doesn’t want to know. He can’t bring himself to look at his friend. He hears a rustle of plastic and something heavy hitting the table, but his mind can only focus on slipping on his socks at light speed.

“Sorry to leave you alone,” Taichi sounds sincere. It makes Koushiro feel worse. “I didn’t have much in the fridge, so I ran to the convenience store down the street. I grabbed that bottled Oolong you like. I hope eggs and — you’re leaving?”

“Sorry, Taichi-san. I have to go.” And Koushiro is out the door, leaving Taichi to stand alone in his little apartment.

***

He’s not sure where he’s going, not exactly paying attention, but he spots a park and some familiar treelines, and he manages to make it to a door, knocking furiously.

A beat passes, and he knocks again.

“Jesus, what!?” Miyako says, whipping the door open and looking like she just rolled out of bed. She eyes Koushiro, his tousled hair, frazzled expression, and haphazard outfit.

“Either you’ve met a very unfriendly tornado, or you’re doing the walk of shame,” she says, causing Koushiro to flush from the neck up. “Ah. Walk of shame, huh? Come in.”

The next 20 minutes are filled with Miyako filling her toaster and putting on a pot of coffee while Koushiro relays the previous night’s events with record speed. He’s beet red.

“So let me get this straight,” Miyako says, swiftly biting into her toast. “You got sloppy drunk on a Tuesday and hooked up with your hot best friend. He let you sleep in his bed overnight and brought you breakfast.”

She pauses to look directly into his soul, and Koushiro would like nothing more than to simply pass away.

“And you panicked.” Miyako’s tone is pointed, but when she doesn’t immediately continue, Koushiro opens his mouth to reply in uncoordinated hand gestures and wordless exasperation. He nods instead.

“And now you’re here, having breakfast with me,” Miyako says with a bored sigh, “When you could be having a coffee-flavored makeout sesh with your hot best friend.”

“It’s not like that!” Koushiro defends. Taichi was his very first friend and probably his closest friend — there was no way he could jeopardize that. His failed attempt at a relationship with Mimi was proof enough that Koushiro isn’t meant for romantic endeavors of any kind.

“I just got out of a relationship!” Koushiro pleads, but Miyako’s expression is solid. She’s not buying this for a moment. Softer, Koushiro says, “And Taichi is my friend. I don’t want to take advantage of him.”

“He obviously didn’t mind,” Miyako, says, annoyed and unimpressed with Koushiro’s half-hearted explanation. Koushiro grunts and looks down at the kitchen counter — he’s not entirely sure he believes himself. Miyako sighs again, this time with a hint of sincere tiredness woven in, and saunters toward her bedroom. “Tragic.”

***

The drive to the office is mostly silent, except for Miyako’s intermittent humming to whatever song is playing on the radio. Koushiro can’t make out any of the words over the sound of his heart thrumming like an upright bass in his ears. Miyako doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s times like this when he truly appreciates her — hiring Miyako as his assistant director was one of his best decisions. She always sorts him out when he gets too caught up in the details. Which is probably why he randomly showed up at her home this morning.

They’re walking into the building, and Miyako greets the receptionist quickly, shielding Koushiro from anyone passing through. He looks a mess, he knows, and Miyako’s being kind by attempting to uphold his reputation. She walks him all the way to his office, reminding him to pull the curtain over the glass windows by his door. She says to find her when he’s done.

It was also Miyako who mothered him into keeping spare clothes at the office after one too many all-nighters. “You look like a trash panda, honestly.”

The morning goes as usual, answering emails, IMing Miyako about the slides for their monthly report. He doesn’t notice when noon rolls around. He doesn’t pay attention when his office door opens, or when the sound of rustling plastic makes its second appearance today.

“Koushiro,” comes a soft voice. Koushiro’s fingers hover above his keyboard and a shiver runs down his spine. “Koushiro,” Taichi says again.

He knows he needs to respond but he can’t pull himself away from his safety net just yet. His fingers touch down on the keyboard again, and he exhales shakily.

“Hello, Taichi-san.”

“I was worried you didn’t eat, so I brought you lunch,” Taichi says quietly. It’s unlike him, and it breaks Koushiro’s heart. He knows he’s being selfish. He knows he should acknowledge his friend, but —

“Koushiro, please,” Taichi says, voice sadder now, a tinge of anguish in that last word. “Can we please talk?”

Koushiro freezes again. He’s so utterly fucked and completely inexperienced in all aspects of what’s sure to unfold here. But Taichi sounds hurt, and he doesn’t want to be someone who hurts Taichi.

He swivels around in his chair, facing Taichi on the sofa but looking at the ground where the toe of his shoe meets the wood floor. He wants to say something, taps his foot a few times, and finally looks up.

“Taichi-san, I —”

“What the fuck?”

“Huh?” Koushiro says, caught off guard. Mimi is storming into his office, face fire-engine red.

“You cheated on me?!” She squawks.

“Excuse me?” Koushiro musters because this is his ex, and his mother taught him to mind his manners, but he feels offended.

“Sora heard from Yamato that you slept with someone last night!” Mimi is causing a scene. A few of Koushiro’s colleagues have poked their heads into the hallway outside Koushiro’s office.

“Did you know about this? Who is she?”

She’s addressing Taichi now, who sinks deeper into the sofa and looks like he might combust, and Koushiro’s blood is boiling. He stands, moving into her line of vision.

“Mimi-san, I hardly think anything I did last night could be considered cheating as we never defined the exclusivity of our relationship and you said there was someone else.” Koushiro says with as much confidence as he can. “I think that gives me the right to do as I want.”

Mimi stomps her foot and raises her arms, ready to shout a thousand expletives, but Miyako is through the door and in Mimi’s face like a forcefield.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to Izumi Corporation. My name is Inoue Miyako, and I’m the lead director of team shut down. As in, I’m shutting this down immediately,” Miyako says, straight faced and with her kindest customer service voice. The first-floor security guard stands just outside Koushiro’s office, already escorting Mimi out. Miyako follows after them, stopping in the doorframe. “Thank you for your visit to Izumi Corp! Have a nice day!”

She smiles and waves, and Koushiro feels like he can breathe again. He has know idea what just happened, and his head is pounding. Miyako’s smile falls, eyebrows pull together, and from the doorway, she points her finger at Koushiro and yells, “I expect a raise!”

She shuts his curtains, slams the door behind her and disappears after that. Koushiro’s mind would normally leave the train station in 50 directions at once, but he’s just stunned. He turns, hoping to find Advil in his desk drawer, and — Taichi!

“Taichi-san, I’m so sorry,” Koushiro turns around to face him, and it’s all he can do because Taichi doesn’t deserve any of this. Taichi is looking at him unexpectedly, reaches a hand up to scratch at the nape of his neck and smiles slightly.

“So,” Taichi says and pauses, looking at the table, “lunch?”

Koushiro stares in awe. Taichi smiles and after a beat, looks up and says, “And maybe we can start this day over?”

They spend the rest of the afternoon talking, and Koushiro apologizes with his entire being. For the event with Mimi. For leaving him. For being so cold. Taichi reassures every “I’m sorry.” Taichi says it’s okay because he doesn’t expect the world Koushiro. Taichi is his best friend. Taichi would like to try last night again. Today, preferably, with less alcohol, but he isn’t pushing.

They weathered a year’s worth of drama in a single day. Koushiro is still breathing, and Taichi still smiles at him like Koushiro is the sun. And maybe Koushiro is meant for romance.

[bitchynaruto]

Missing Scene - The Country Between Us (CH.3)

Embarrassingly I forgot to include this scene in ch. 3 which is actually kinda important to Sasuke’s headspace and his relationship with Suigetsu + coping. ANYWHOM, it’s included now in TCBU but here is a quick link to just read the one-shot instead of rereading the entirety of the chapter again lol.

Anyway this scene takes place after Suigetsu is recruited and right before Karin is recruited into Taka. More under the cut!

Night comes and the terrain grows more dangerous in the cover of darkness. Sasuke agrees with Suigetsu about finding a place to rest, and remembers the location of a nearby town at the midway point between Orochimaru’s hideout and prison.

“Thank fuck I’m giving my back a break from the dirt,” Suigetsu says with a relieved sigh. Stretches his back until it pops before shrugging his shoulders enough to loosen the joints. “You must really be liking me today to rent us a room for tonight, eh, Sasuke?”

Honestly, Sasuke was growing tired of sleeping on the hard ground, but Suigetsu didn’t need to know that.

“We’ll see,” Sasuke replies, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. “I can still leave you outside if I feel like it.”

“Cold. Ice cold. I like that in a man.”

Sasuke gives a tch and a roll of his eyes, letting the comment slide off him like water. Whatever energy he has for tolerating Suigetsu’s games is at the lowest threshold, and he doesn’t much feel like indulging them any further tonight.

They make their way into town. It’s out in the open and small, quiet and glowing with lanterns and the insides of homes, lighting up the dirt paths. Noise travels from the center of town, where a few food shops are still open, and people surrounding a bar that also serves as an inn. When they step inside, the place is loud and filled to the brim with people, alcohol staining the air and burning his nose. All of the rooms for the night are taken except one, but there’s only a single bed and a couple cushions to use as a makeshift one. Sasuke takes it anyway.

The woman in charge of the inn takes the money with only a mild look of contempt for the two men standing before her, until she leaves to clean up the room. Suigetsu is already at the bar attempting to order something, only to be slid a cup of water that makes him hang his head in shame even as he takes the drink. A curl of Sasuke’s lips escapes him at the scene before him, amused, until a light of reflecting metal catches his attention. 

Across the bar, a man with a Hitai-ate, carved with the symbol of a leaf dead center, hangs his head back and laughs loud and drunk without a care in the world. 

Sasuke’s about to flash his Sharingan, fingers twitching to his sword, before he realizes the man is too drunk to notice him. There’s only two other Leaf Shinobi surrounding him, one with his head pressed flat against the table while the other is matching him shot for shot. Only then does he relax his muscles, take a deep breath before making his way towards Suigetsu.

Now tell me, Sasuke, a familiar voice echoes within his mind, I thought I taught you better than this.

The voice has Sasuke stilling, narrowing his eyes. Now that he knows Orochimaru is a figment of his mind, and cannot harm him aside from manipulating memories and visions, he’s no longer caught off guard. Won’t let himself be fearful again. That doesn’t make him unweary, or stupid enough to believe Orochimaru won’t do anything less than cause a scene.

You really think I would allow any harm to fall on my precious vessel? Sasuke-kun, you disappoint me. I pegged you smarter than this.

Taking a deep breath, settling the anger and annoyance burning through him, Sasuke finally asks through gritted teeth, “Get to the point.”

I believe your enemies are vulnerable in front of you as you speak, and yet you’ll let them pass you by without taking an opportunity to better yourself. Shameful.

“If they get in my way, I’ll kill them,” Sasuke points out, knowing Orochimaru can sense the truth in that statement. “Right now, they’re not in my way.”

Don’t be so shortsighted. There is a reason why your paths crossed, and it is ignorant of you to believe otherwise. Knowledge, Sasuke, is power.

As much as Sasuke hates to admit it, the snake has a point. It is strange that Konoha Shinobi would be out so far from the Land of Fire, even though this were in fact a mere pitstop on the way to or from a mission. If there’s more of them near here, Sasuke shouldn’t make light of their increased presence.

Afterall, Sasuke’s a wanted man.

Sasuke makes his way through the crowded bar towards the booths and tables where the men talk amongst themselves. Most of the patrons are drunk, or are older than him, and pay him little mind—in fact, actively ignore his presence. It doesn’t take him long to settle into the table behind the men, back towards them as he focuses out the abstract noise of the other patrons aside from his target. 

None of the men notice him either. 

“I swear, I can’t wait to get back home,” one of the men drawls out, clearly on the verge of drunkenness. “Nobody makes katsudon like my girl does.”

“Don’t torture your poor lady by coming back home,” the other says through fits of laughter. “She’s probably having the time of her life without your ugly ass there.”

“Oi, fuck you.”

The men at the table burst out into a fit of full-bellied laughter to which Sasuke rolls his eyes at. He should have realized they were too drunk and off-duty to give anything worthwhile for Sasuke to pick up on. Listening to Orochimaru has never yielded in anything positive, and to do so now only proves his point further.

Don’t turn away now. 

But Sasuke’s already standing, about to leave the table and go upstairs into bed. No more entertaining Orochimaru’s desires any longer. Sasuke may have to deal with the snake slithering in his thoughts and mind, but that didn’t mean he had to act on them.

Sasuke’s about to head over towards where Suigetsu’s at, until a name has him freezing.

“Danzō’s a little crazy over this Orochimaru business anyway,” the third man says on the quieter side, sounding more sober than the rest. “How long has he been dead for now? What we really should be looking for is that traitor, Sasuke.” 

The man spits Sasuke’s name with so much venom and hatred, but it’s only a fraction of what Sasuke feels for them. Cute, in its own way. 

“You know our orders,” one of them slurs. “Find the prisoners and rescue them. Strengthen Konoha in our numbers.”

Sasuke’s blood turns to ice at that statement.

“What do you think he’s doing with them all anyway?”

“When’s the last time you’ve been in Konoha? Can’t go anywhere without an ANBU breathing down your neck or walking the streets. Not hard to figure out where they’re all ending up, and then we get stuck on these boring rescue missions. It’s unfair.”

“Shut up,” the more sober one seethes, smacking the other with the palm of his hand. “You’ve got a loose tongue. If we continue to do well, hell, maybe we’ll be assigned to hunt down that bitch Uchiha. Think of how fun that’d be.”

“Finally, it’s time someone put an end to that cursed clan,” says the other. “I’ll give the Hokage that much. Nobody has come close to bettering Konoha this much since the Senjus were in charge.”

The others murmur in agreement, laughing, and Sasuke’s already stomping past the group, fuming. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, the hatred and rage surging through him is all he can feel, all encompassing. 

All of them had wanted the Uchihas gone from the start. They didn’t need to know the details, but they had accepted Danzō’s role in the decimation in the clan—had even claimed his decisions made Konoha better, stronger. Sasuke’s read the journal belonging to the second Senju, has read the vile words of hatred without any fancy words hoping to hide away their true intent. 

After the massacre, so many of Konoha’s people looked at him with sympathy or pity. Approached him in ways they never had before. Sasuke had thought it came from their inability to understand his situation and trying their best to mask it, to push through it in order to offer their best sympathy to a boy who had lost everything in a single night. He knew the village thought of him as a survivor, a relic of an extinct and powerful clan, a piece in the machine to showcase the village’s strength and superiority to the rest of the world. 

Reality crashes into him and shatters the last illusion he had about Konoha. None of them approached him because of the tragedy of what happened, they only approached him because he was nothing to fear on his own. A fledgling Uchiha to control and use for Konoha’s own benefit.

Like Orochimaru had chosen him.

Now you understand why I sought Konoha’s destruction, Orochimaru’s voice slithers through his thoughts, I was made by Konoha. Only I could understand the pervasive nature of its being, and knew to avoid anything worse birthed from that village, it would need to no longer exist.

“Shut up,” Sasuke snaps as he goes up the stairs towards his room. Second on the left if he remembers the innkeeper correctly, but it’s hard to focus with his racing thoughts and Orochimaru’s voice. “Your reason for destroying Konoha has nothing to do with my reasons for my mission. We are nothing alike.”

You may say that now, but Konoha birthed your hatred and anger also. We are cut from the same cloth. Perhaps you believed you could fulfill your mission without me, but you’ll soon realize you still need me, my precious Sasuke.

He shuts his eyes so tight until all he can feel is his pulse pushing against his. The laughter comes back, echoing, and the muscle in his jaw threatens to jump right out.

“Sasuke?” Suigetu’s voice comes through as he steps inside the room. When he opens his eyes, the other has a glass of water in his hands, quirking a single brow at him. “You good?”

The laughter cuts off like a scratch of a record, and Suigetsu’s presence delivers the silence Sasuke had been seeking. 

After a moment to revel in the quiet, Sasuke answers, “Fine.”

Suigetsu eyes him a moment before he shrugs, moving to take off his shirt and get into his sleep pants. As always, the other doesn’t care for modesty, and as he’s changing into his sleep pants, says, “I saw you hanging around those Konoha jerks and thought you were getting into trouble.”

“No,” Sasuke replies. “Trouble usually finds me.”

“You can say that again,” Suigetsu says with a feral grin. “Never a dull moment with you around, Sasuke.”

Sasuke eyes him, and the anger and hatred burning through him has smoldered. “Is that why you came with me? For a good time?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the only reason.” That piques Sasuke’s curiosity, gets him to keep listening—the blatant honesty of Suigetsu surprisingly being one of his more endearing traits. “Nobody else has the balls to kill Orochimaru, not even that pesky Hokage of yours could. You woke up one day and figured it was time for that old bitch to die.”

A quiet huff of air leaves past his nose, lips twitching upward momentarily. “It wasn’t as simple as that. I spent a lot of time researching on ways to kill that snake, trained until my body gave out, and waited until he was at his weakest.”

“And modest, too.”

“Not modest,” Sasuke replies. “Just telling you the truth.”

“Either way people tried to kill him, and you were the only one who didn’t fail. Orochimaru tried to make you his bitch, but you came out the other side,” Suigetsu shrugs, turning to Sasuke with a smirk on his face. “ I listen to you and I don’t hear a bullshitter. I hear someone who can get shit done.”

Sasuke stares at Suigetsu, at the way the words fall off his tongue and the heat in the pools of his eyes. The longer he does, the further the grin split across the other’s face continues to grow. Suigetsu steps closer and closer, until he’s standing in Sasuke’s personal bubble.

Funnily enough, Sasuke doesn’t care.

“What?” Suigetsu asks, tilting his head down towards Sasuke. A pleasant warmth spikes in him, electrifying in a way the overwhelming anger from earlier drowned out anything good. “Said too much?”

“No, just enough.”

“Oh?” 

“You had a point, before,” comes Sasuke’s words as he undoes the belt holding his white tunic together. Doesn’t break eye contact with the other, not even when Suigetu’s gaze drops to where his hands are pushing the fabric away. “Weeks after we first met.”

“Remind me what point I made, my brain’s forgetful around men who look like you.”

“I was holding back before.” Sasuke chuckles, dark and deep. Hooks his fingers into the waistband of Suigetsu’s pants and pulls him close. From this close, he can see his own reflection in Suigetsu’s dilated pupils, a mirror of his own eyes staring back at him. “Abstaining from what I really wanted for some idea of a nobler cause.”

Maybe he was holding onto an outdated notion of what he must do to make sure the Uchiha were avenged. Taking off the head does nothing if the claws are still attached and the venom still surges throughout the veins within the body. 

Konoha created Danzō, Orochimaru, and Itachi. It is not enough to simply take out the leaders when the village itself is the poison. 

Which is why the Leaf Village must be destroyed. Only through destruction can the world be purged from its insidious beliefs that plagues not only the Land of Fire, but the entire world. Anyone who stands with Konoha is as guilty as its leaders, and deserves equal punishment for the crime of passivity for believing in the sham that is the Will of Fire. 

“Not anymore, though.”

Three words are all the other needs, and Suigetsu is all over him. Hands roaming over him with enthusiasm. When Suigetsu presses his mouth against him, he is reminded that this is his body. His choice. 

Everything up to here has been ruled by other’s actions besides his own, but now he’s truly broken free and can see the future with clear eyes.

Sasuke’s mind and body is his own.

No going back to how it was before.

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Where the Wild Roses Grow~

Image credit: Myself @badwolf-in-the-impala​. None of the pictures are mine, just the editing. 

~Chapter 8~

Rating: Mature/18+ 

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x OFC.

Warnings: PTSD, drug use, alcohol use, smoking, language, physical abuse, sexual content, violence, angst...

Chapter warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, mentions of drug use, attempted kidnapping?

Disclaimer: This particular chapter does DOES CONTAIN an actual scene/dialogue from the show itself. I do not own any of that. I simply used it as sort of guide, in order to make the scene I was writing work.

Word Count: 4,108

------------------------------------------

Nearly a week had passed since Althea’s last encounter with Tommy. She had seen him only once or twice since, just briefly at the Garrison on business, but mostly he had been absent from her usual daily routine.

The new Inspector had been causing quite a stir around Birmingham as of late -- What with the Communists and that missing consignment of guns -- And Althea suspected that had a lot to do with things. Aside from the usual dealings that the Shelby’s played a hand in; Not that it was any of Althea’s business. But people talked, and as a Barmaid it was hard for her not to listen, so she heard a fair amount of gossip pertaining to the Shelby family and their involvement with a number of unsavory and illegal, activities. Now, as a somewhat well educated woman, it didn’t take much for Althea to put two and two together after she began working at the Garrison.

But fortunately, Althea had never been one to stick her nose where it had no business being, and even though she now shared some kind of bond with Thomas, he had shared with her very little about his business dealings. Now whether that was due to concerns for her safety, or simply because he didn’t wish to tell her, Althea hadn’t the slightest idea. She was also more than a little unsure of whether Tommy was avoiding her or not...And that alone had sent her mind further into the downward spiral it was already on.

The nightmares had returned, alongside the sleepless nights filled with self-medication and dark thoughts. Spending hours staring out her window at the empty streets below her window. Waiting for the solace of daybreak to chase away the darkness...Taking with it the ghosts of her tormented past. Day in and day out was slowly becoming a constant struggle to maintain her focus on even the simplest of tasks, but she did her best to cover it all up like she always did. Pretending that her mind wasn’t slowly buckling inwards on itself; Seeming as though she was doing a decent enough job at hiding it all. Or so she thought.

Althea’s day at the Garrison had started off just as any other. Minus the extra bit of snow to get her going after a particularly bad night of very little sleep. She had the whole bar nearly spotless within an hour or so of arriving and had since set about restocking some of the empty bottles behind the bar. So lost in her own head, that she never heard Arthur enter the Garrison through the backdoor until he had appeared behind the bar to grab the ledgers.

“Oi, wheres them ledgers at, Thea?”

Althea wasn’t sure who was more startled at that point. Herself, or Arthur, as she let out a startled yelp, sending one of the full whiskey bottle she held in her hands, hurtling to the ground as she spun around with a wide eyed expression. The second bottle raised, making Arthur take a step back with his hands raised in defense.“Thea! It’s jus’ me! Jesus fookin’ Christ!” Arthur exclaimed.

“You nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack, Arthur!” Althea gasped, setting the bottle down quickly on the wooden bar-top, before it could join it’s fallen companion that lie shattered on the floor; Taking several deep breaths to steady her already shot nerves.

“Didn’ ye hear me come in?” Arthur questioned curiously as he bent to help her gather up the broken shards of glass that lie at their feet. Althea shook her head in reply, earning a frown from Arthur as she stood and threw the glass into the waste bin.

“No. I’m sorry.” Althea apologized as she finished cleaning up the mess on the floor. “I was jus’... I was thinking, an’ must ‘ave missed hearing the door.” Arthur gave her a skeptical nod but let it go.

“Aye, well, hows a’bout those ledgers then?” He asked, watching as Althea turned and pulled them from a drawer behind the bar, handing them over. Arthur thanked her before muttering the last of his apologies for startling her, and taking his leave. Leaving Althea to kick herself for allowing this to happen for a second time now, and pray that Arthur wouldn’t bring it up to Tommy. That was the last thing she needed right now. But thankfully, the incident flew from her mind as an older man with short brown hair walked in a short while later, removing his hat as he said a soft ‘Good mornin’. Althea turned and gave him a small smile.

“Harry. Good to see you back on y’er feet.” She said, happy to have the barman back after an illness had taken him out of work, leaving Arthur to take over in his absence. Harry smiled as he slipped behind the bar, tying a long white apron around his waist.

“Good to see my bar didn’ burn to the ground while I was away.” Harry teased. Thea smiled, grateful to have a happy break, if only brief.

“No. Of course not...They had me here to keep their shite in line.” Althea said. Harry laughed and shook his head as he looked around the bar and noted, “I see ye made quick work of it then. This place is spotless.”

Thea smiled softly and said, “One tries.” ~

By mid-afternoon the Garrison was packed by it’s usual patrons. Ebbing and flowing freely through the small pub as Althea worked to keep her mind centered and drinks poured. Listening to the usual chatter and gossip as she wiped down the bar-top and cleared away emptied pints. Politely declining the many requests from customers, encouraging her to sing for them as she had a few nights before. But Althea simply brushed them off with a polite smile, “Sorry, Lads...That was a one time deal.”

But time passed swiftly, afternoon quickly fading into early evening. Althea beginning to notice that things were running uncharacteristically smooth for a change. Setting her already frayed nerves even more on edge than they usually were, as she worked quietly. Keeping a watchful eye on some of the Peaky Boys who had been milling about the place since opening, trying a little to hard to blend in and not draw too much attention to themselves. But there wasn’t much that went unnoticed by Althea, and while it wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to be milling about, their behavior was somewhat more suspicious than usual. Almost as if they were waiting for something...And as if to answer her question, right on cue, Thomas just so happened to enter the Garrison -- Interrupting her thoughts -- with his brothers in tow.

“Whiskey.” He spoke in his usual gruff tone before clearing his throat, moving to pull the leather gloves from his hands as Althea turned and grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey off the shelf behind her, along with a glass which she set on the bar as she turned back round to face him...Avoiding those blue eyes that were trained intently on her every move.

“Anythin’ else?” Althea questioned softly, finally looking up to meet his gaze as she set the bottle of whiskey aside. Watching as he tossed back the amber liquid in one flawless motion; Setting the glass back down gently on the bar, giving her a nod.

“Couple of pints.” He answered while placing a more than appropriate amount of money on the bar as he gestured towards the private room off to his left. “Deck of cards too.” Althea replied with a simple nod of her own as she turned and began gathering up the requested items. The deck of cards first on her list as she reached into a cubby below the bar and grabbed a set, placing them on the bar for Thomas to take. His hand resting atop her own briefly as a soft smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth as he added, “Maybe some singin’ as well...Livin’ the joint up a touch.”

Althea cracked a soft smile as she withdrew her hand from beneath his. Her green eyes fixed on Tommy’s form as he took the cards and headed for the private room; His brothers following close behind. Leaving her to gather up enough glasses and alcohol to sate the appetites of the Shelby men, and fuel whatever nonsense they were likely planning behind those closed doors.

“He’s right ya know?” Harry chimed in as he helped Althea, earning a raised eyebrow from her as she gave him a questioning look. “‘Bout the singin’...I’ve heard y’er quite good.” Althea snorted softly in response, rolling her eyes as she picked up the tray and balanced it carefully.

“Aye, well, I was drunk, as was everyone else.” Althea replied with a soft smirk. “I’m sure it wasn’ nearly as good as everyone remembers.” She added, stepping out from behind the bar to deliver her tray of drinks to the Shelby brothers. Leaving Harry to shake his head after her as he returned his attention to drying the freshly washed batch of glasses. Althea returning to her duties a few minutes later, finally caving to what seemed like the millionth request for her to sing a song for the crowd. That one song turing into several, as time seemed to pass a little quicker now. Drunken laughter and singing chorused throughout the Garrison as Althea’s voice filled the pub.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy, wha’ the hell made you let ‘em sing? They sound like they’re stranglin’ cats out there.” John chuckled as Tommy cracked a small smile in return, taking a drag from his cigarette as the cards were dealt.

“Alrigh’, Twenty’s the play. C’mon.” Arthur spoke as he picked up his cards. “An’ yeah? Wha’ did make ye change y’er mind, Tom?” He added. Tommy remaining quiet as he glanced towards the private rooms closed door, as Althea voice changed pitch as she bean another song; Giving a soft ‘Hmm’ as he threw his bet into the center of the table.

A sly smirk crept its way onto Johns lips as he made the connection. “Yeah, I mean, it’s abou’ time, Tommy.” He spoke, watching as Tommy turned to look at him as he answered, “Time for what?”

“Time you took y’erself a woman.” John answered with a grin, earning an eye roll from Tommy.

“Jus’ play the bloody hand.”

“You stay the way ye are, Tommy.” Arthur chuckled softly. “Remember wha’ Dad used to say? Fast women and slow horses…” He began, “Will ruin y’er life.” Arthur and John chorused together as Tommy cracked a smile at the comment while his brothers gave a laugh. But the moment was short lived as a pair of headlights shone through the private rooms window, illuminating it and grabbing the men's attention immediately.

“Coppers?” John asked quickly. Watching as Tommy shook his head ‘No’.

The singing continued out front as Althea and Harry continued their work. Althea blissfully unaware of what was about to unfold as she turned, missing the front doors as they swung open, and a group of men stepped in, brandishing a variety of guns. Harry’s expression falling as he looked up, “Holy shit.” He muttered. “It’s Billy Kimber.”

Althea’s heart all but stuttered to a stop in her chest, her blood running cold as she heard him speak. ‘Is there any man here named Shelby?’ The room falling eerily silent as he waited for an answer. The question quickly followed by the sound of a gun shot as he pulled a pistol from inside pocket of his suit’s blazer, and fired a round into the ceiling. Earning a series a startled gasps and screams from customers. “I said, is there any man here named Shelby?” Kimber spoke a little louder. Tommy’s voice suddenly breaking the silence as the door to the private room opened and he and his brothers stepped out, “Harry, get these men a drink. Everyone else, go home.”

Thankfully, nobody had to be told twice as the customers quickly dispersed from the pub. Clearly knowing better than to stick around as John and Arthur set up a table while Althea helped Harry fill a round of glasses with whiskey. Trying her best to remain hidden from the man that now sat at the table directly in front of her. Her heart sinking as Harry handed her the tray and motioned for her to deliver it. Knowing her presence would be better received by the men as he whispered a quick, ‘Whatever they need.’ Althea drew in a shaky breath as she nodded and stepped out from behind the bar to approach the table. Silently praying Kimber wouldn’t recognize her. But of course, Althea could never get so lucky…

“Althea Bennett?” Kimber breathed out as a brief look of confusion -- Or was it betrayal? -- flickered across his features as she approached the table. Althea remaining silent as she placed the tray on the table, avoiding his gaze as her heart hammered loudly inside of her chest. Tommy’s expression hardening when he noticed Althea’s discomfort.

“You go home.” Tommy ordered, catching Althea’s attention as she glanced down at him, about to argue that Mr. Fenton had instructed she stay, when he cut her off with a look. “I said go home.” Althea remained silent as she nodding her head in answer. Stepping away from the table, doing good to avoid Billy Kimber’s gaze as she started for the backdoor and stepped outside into the alley behind the Garrison. A shaky sigh fell from her lips as the damp night air washed over her. It had been a little more than year since her last encounter with Billy Kimber and she had hoped it would be their final.

Althea having met him for the first time in 1898, when she was only three. Her mother having worked for the man for a short period of time, using whatever means necessary to insure she could give Althea the life she deserved; Before meeting Althea’s stepfather who took them to America...And while her mother never went into great detail about her time spent working for Billy Kimber, Althea always knew in her heart, and if there was one thing her mother had made sure to warn her about, should she ever return home to England, it was to stay away from the man whom Althea barely remembered.

But after the war ended and Althea had nothing, no one; No family, no husband, and no desire to return to her former life back in America. A life that she no longer remembered how to live, she was left with little to no options. Until she stumbled across an advertisement in the daily paper one day...Posted by none other than Billy Kimber himself. An ad requesting the services of a Secretary, that paid more than enough to get her back on her feet. So ignoring her mother’s warnings, Althea interviewed for the job. After all...What was the worst that could happen?

It started out innocently enough in the beginning. Billy of course remembered her almost instantly after hearing her name. Dredging up memories from the past. His fondness for her mother, and how dedicated an employee she had been all those years ago. So of course, he had been more than willing to hire Althea, right then and there on the spot. Not a single doubt in his narrow little mind, that Althea wouldn’t go to the same lengths that her mother had all those years ago. And despite every fiber of her being that warned against accepting such a generous offer, especially from the likes of a man like Billy Kimber; Althea accepted. Sealing her fate, and leading up to this very moment. One she had been dreading since she threw her contract with him into the flames of his office fire place.

Althea had never doubted that Billy Kimber was a vile, sorry excuse of a human being...What with all the strange women that were always coming and going from his estate and office at odd hours of the day when his wife was out. But it was none of her business, and Althea desperately needed the job if she didn’t wish to end up a beggar, living on the streets. But little did she know of the true nature of his intentions, until it was too late.

His advances had always been anything but subtle, and Althea had done her best to brush them off for the most part. After all, it’s not like she wasn’t used to dealing with these types of situations. Having dealt with a fair share of vulgar, and morally questionable situations during her time spent serving as a nurse. Being a woman in a man’s world could be difficult at times, but Althea had never had a problem telling anyone directly where they could shove their tactless attempts at trying to con her into bed; But she had also been married during those times, which made it easier. But as a woman who was left broken and widowed by the war? It caused her to let her guard down. A mistake she had rarely made since…

But before Althea could delve to deep into the chaos of that nightmare, her thoughts were interrupted by the distinct metallic ‘click’ of Thomas’ lighter being snapped shut. A trail of sweet tobacco smoke trailing passed her into the night air. “Thought I told’ya to go home?”

Althea turned to stare blankly over her shoulder at Tommy, blinking a few times in confusion before everything finally registered in her mind. The chill in the air reminding her of just how long she must’ve been standing outside in that alley behind the Garrison. “Oh…” She breathed out quietly in reply as her gaze dropped to the cobblestone path that lie beneath her feet, intending to move, but she remained rooted to the spot; Her brows pulling together tightly.

“Come back inside, eh? ‘Fore you freeze to death.” Thomas chose not to question her, yet, as he offered her the last of his cigarette and wrapped his coat around her shoulders. His hands gentle as he guided her back inside the Garrison, and into a seat at the table that still remained set up form the meeting with Kimber. Thomas kneeling in front of her briefly as Arthur and John locked up. “Thea -- Hey.” Althea blinked, regaining her focus as Thomas snapped his fingers in front of her face lightly. “There we go...I need you to listen’ta me carefully. Can you do that?” Althea nodded stiffly. “Good. I need yeh to stay here, jus’ for a little while, until myself or Arthur or John can come back to take you home. Understand?”

Althea nodded again as she brought the cigarette -- Which was nearly burning her fingers by this point -- to her lips and took a drag. “Aye…” She agreed quietly as cloud of smoke trailed from her lips. Thomas sighed as he stood, squeezing her shoulder gently before disappearing out the door with his brothers close behind.

~

Several hours had passed since the meeting with Kimber had gone down, and Thomas -- Or anyone else for that fact -- had yet to return in order to escort a now mildly intoxicated Althea home. Her patience growing thinner by the second as she stacked the last of the chairs onto the tables, pausing to throw back another shot of whiskey before glancing at the clock behind the bar; Ten past midnight. Althea heaved a heavy sigh and poured herself one final drink before cleaning up her own mess as she resigned to walking herself home. Figuring, in her unstable frame of mind, that surely things should have blown over by now? And that if Thomas had been so concerned for safety, wouldn’t he have sent someone to keep an eye one her? 

“Bloody hell...” Althea muttered to herself as the ring of keys slipped from her fingers during her second attempt to lock up the Garrison on her way out. Forcing her to bend down unsteadily as she snatched them up, fumbling angrily with the lock one more time before it finally clicked into place, and she shoved the keys back into the pocket of Thomas’ coat that she still wore. A heavy sigh leaving her lips as she began the long walk home. Her thoughts wandering into the past once more, as she made her way through the streets towards the tiny, run down building she called home. Completely unaware of the figure that tailed her closely from the shadows. Watching. Waiting.

Althea cursed under her breath a short while later as she stumbled forward, tripping over a crack in the cobbled path beneath her feet, forcing her to stop in order to readjust one of her heels as she propped a shoulder against the building beside her. Her head snapping to glancing over her shoulder suddenly at the faint crunch of gravel that came from somewhere behind her. The chaos in her head quit enough now for her to notice the unnerving silence that had enveloped her. The streets desolate as she glanced around for the source of the noise, but there was not a single soul in sight. 

“Keep it together, Bennett…” She muttered softly to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she leaned her head back, resting it against the brick wall of the building behind her. Drawing in several deep breaths as she tried to gather her bearings and settle her frayed nerves. Suddenly regretting the decision to make this walk alone instead of just staying at the Garrison for the night. But she’d already come this far. So with one final deep breath, she pushed away from the wall and pressed on.

Counting the steps that she took in her mind, trying to create a distraction from the uneasy feeling that had settled over her as she walked along the poorly lit path, a path that she had walked a million times alone and at hours much later than this. But never before had she felt so unsettled...So on edge. A heavy feeling of dread building with each step that she took, leaving her feeling as though someone was just an arms length away, waiting to reach and grab her as she drew closer to her flat. The rundown building so close now that she could see it rising up from the distance. Just ten more minutes and a few flights of stairs and she would be home, tucked away safely inside the confines of her flat.

Althea quickened her pace as her building grew closer. Green eyes glancing warily over her shoulder as she hugged Tommy’s coat tighter around herself, a sudden chill washed over her as she caught the faintest of movements stirring from within the shadows behind her. Her heart suddenly pounding so hard inside of her chest that it was all she could hear outside the click of her heels against the cobblestone. 

��Almost there...Just a few more feet.’ She soothed calmly in her mind, forcing herself to stay focused on the entrance of her building that was rapidly approaching, until she found herself safely on the other side of it’s door. Her back pressed against the wall as she tried to calm the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she panted; Trying to catch her breath.

Shifting quietly, Althea turned to peer through the window, looking out into the darkness cautiously to find that shadows had stilled. Showing no signs of the movement that had caught her eye just minutes ago. “Maybe I really am losin’ it.” Althea breathed out with a shake of her head, before she turned and began to ascend the three flights of stairs up to her floor. Moving at a good pace still from the adrenaline that was still coursing through her veins, keeping her senses on high alert for any sounds of entry from below as she made the climb. Her nerves only settling once she had finally reached her door.

“Home sweet home.” Althea gave a sigh of relief as she pulled the keys from the pocket of Thomas’ coat, the metal pieces clinking against each other while she searched for the right key, shoving it into the lock once she found it, her hand reaching out for the knob when it happened. A strangled scream wrenched itself from Althea’s throat as she was grabbed from behind. A strong hand quickly clamping down over her mouth to keep her quiet as she struggled, kicked and flailed against the strong grip of her attacker; Her screams muffled into nothing as she was pulled into the darkness of her flat...And the door swung closed behind them.

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Hope ya’ll enjoyed are ready for the next chapter! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please feel free to let me know! 

@zazasblogxx​ @jacksonroseroth​ @l0tsofpennies​ @sympathyfortheblinderdevil​ @livvtheangel​ @londoncharlotte88​ @theworld-is-ahead @readsalot73​ @ly--canthrope​ @harjumus​ @theskinofmyemotions​ @juuliaa-gooliaa​ @feyrearcheron44​ @reyloshipper-starwars​ @porcelainjokersmadness​ 

[cjrae]

Lucifer Is Not A Nice Guy. Or; Why Chloe Decker will not get a recap of Seasons 1-3.

So, I’ve been running into a lot of commentary and/or fanfic that goes something along the general lines of, “I can’t wait for Chloe to find out everything Lucifer’s been through for her!” The reasoning behind this seems to be a mix and match of the following

- If she had just understood Lucifer’s perspective of the last three seasons, she would have had a better reaction to her partner literally being the Devil.

- If Chloe knew about certain key plot points; Malcom’s bullet, Lucifer killing himself for the antidote, Lucifer killing Uriel to save her, Candy was just about Lucifer protecting Chloe from himself, she would understand just how much Lucifer loves her.

- If Chloe knew about her status as a literal miracle ordained by God, she would see that she and Lucifer were meant to be soulmates (after a potential freakout).

Now, to be clear, I’m not saying that these impulses are necessarily coming from an insane place. All of this seems to be rooted in what is the bedrock of a successful romantic relationship; communication. If Lucifer and Chloe had been communicating more clearly in Seasons 1-3, a lot of their issues would, if not go away, at least be something they could face together as a united front.

Granted, that wouldn’t be much of a TV show, now would it?

But what’s bugging me is an underlying assumption that’s being pretty throughly ignored. If Chloe knew everything that Lucifer had done for her, she would be grateful and would accept Lucifer entirely because he has proved that he loves her.

Stop the bus!

Where have we heard this trope before? I’ll give you a hint - it’s in a lot of places, but it’s very prevalent in romance. The Nice Guy who does Things for the object of his affection, who only learns to return that affection once she knows of his sacrifice and/or actions.

Here’s the TV Tropes page, if you want a refresher. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/NiceGuy

Um, guys? We do remember who our main character is, right? The Devil is very definitely not a nice guy. Who remembers Chloe’s description of him when she’s confronting him in 1x06 about his container being stolen?

Actually, let’s take a closer look at 1x06 for a minute. All italics are mine.

Chloe: “For the first time, I don’t think you’re being honest with me. You have this mysterious container that was stolen - that someone was willing to kill for. You make shady deals with shady people. You’re violent, your personal records only go back five years and the books from Lux are way too clean.”

This is 100% accurate, everyone. We’ve seen Lucifer engage in every bit of the behavior Chloe accuses him of here. He may not lie to her (as he goes on to reassure her further into the scene), but that doesn’t prevent him from obfuscating the truth. And that’s exactly what he does within this very scene - he tells her two truths about what’s in the container (”a gift from my father” and “Russian dolls”) while concealing what’s actually been stolen (his wings). 

We’ve seen Lucifer be violent before too - before it’s always been pointed at people who we, as the audience, have little to no sympathy for such as the agent Lucifer throws through the glass or Malcom’s drunk partner in the bar. Here in 1x06, though, we see this illustrated twice and not to Lucifer’s benefit. 

First is only a scene later as he quite literally hunts their suspect down through the warehouse, taunting him as he stalks his prey, only for the man to throw himself off the building when Lucifer finally catches up with him and flashes his Devil face. This is already pretty damn disturbing and is demonstrably unnecessary. The police have recovered the container without Lucifer needing to catch and question the man, which makes their suspect’s death not only gratuitous but also means that the man can’t stand trial for shooting the head of the biker gang. Still, Renny was just a “bad guy,” right?

The second time within 1x06 that we see Lucifer become violent is his therapy session with Linda, when she attempts to break through to him with the use of his Father’s name for him - and he screams at her and punches a hole straight through her wall and out the other side in a completely uncontrolled display of celestial strength.

These are important early character moments for Lucifer and they do help us, the audience, establish that Lucifer is not evil. You can see how disturbed he is when Renny throws himself off the building, his shocked, quiet line to Chloe “I couldn’t stop him.” It never occurred to him that someone might kill himself out of fear of him. And he knows, even in that moment, that his behavior in Linda’s office is completely out of line - he doesn’t even look at her, he just runs away and doesn’t go back to therapy until episode 8. 

And this is only a single episode in the first season, people. Lucifer demonstrates over and over that he is not a nice man to the world in general. Part of what makes Lucifer compelling is that we see him begin to offer kindness to others as his own capacity to feel and deal with his own emotions expands.

But a Nice Guy? The trope of the Nice Guy is based on a contractual obligation - I perform acts of service for the object of my affection and in return I receive love/sex/acceptance. 

Huh. I know where I’ve seen favors before in this show and it’s also not something Lucifer does out of kindness.

C’mon, guys. Do we really think Lucifer wanted Chloe to accept him out of a sense of obligation for everything he’s done for her? As if all of his actions in Seasons 1-3 were some kind of favor that is to be repaid with Chloe’s love? This is not to say that some of these major plot events won’t come up in any potential future seasons, but I suspect that if Chloe is brought up to speed on these events they will be connected to a current issue/plot point that’s much more pressing than comforting herself or Lucifer. 

Also, we the fans are able to re-watch and remember what happened. Chloe’s own memories are probably much fuzzier - some major events will stand out, but the fine details are probably pretty faded. Don’t believe me? How well do you remember the details of a work conversation you had a year ago? A month ago? Heck, how about yesterday?

After all, to quote Chloe Decker herself, “Going backwards is not good for anyone.” 

In short, Chloe doesn’t need a recap. She already knows how much Lucifer loves her and some of these events that people keep bringing up are far more likely to cause conflict than understanding if they’re ever brought to her attention. I mean, killing Uriel may very well have been justifiable homicide, given that he was actively threatening to kill two other people, but the idea of presenting a fratricide as proof of love would probably have most sane people run screaming in the opposite direction, let alone a homicide detective. Lucifer dying/killing himself to get to Hell? That’s even worse. 

And let’s not get started on the idea of Lucifer needing to hurt her in order to protect her, (thank you, Candy). The show runners have already teased the idea of Chloe finding out her miracle status, so this one is the most likely past event to come up, I suspect. So, show of hands, who thinks Chloe would be beyond pissed?

Chloe Decker owes Lucifer Morningstar absolutely nothing. That’s what makes her acceptance and love of him so powerful. To introduce these past events is to allow the specter of obligation to color every single interaction they’ve had - along with guilt. And some fans are speculating with the very best of intentions, in the name of open communication.

But we all know where good intentions and guilt lead, now don’t we?

[omgjasminesimone]

Tequila Sunrise Part I

Logan x MC

Author’s Note: I miss Ride or Die. And the ending was so sad! So I wrote this, a Logan x MC reunion. This is Part 1. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

Next Part: Part II

Tag List:  @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @powdesiree0816 @regina-and-happiness

Summary: 10 years have passed since Logan and Ellie last saw each other. Logan assumed Ellie would have forgotten about him by now, but considering how her eyes widen from across the crowded bar in Mexico when she spots him, seems like she hasn’t.

Word Count: 1572

Puerta Vallarta, Mexico

“Hola, una cerveza, por favor.” Logan shouts at the bartender over the pounding music. The bartender nods, cracking open the bottle and sliding it across the bar to Logan.

“Gracias.” Logan says, leaving 20 pesos on the bar and taking a seat on a bar stool when one finally becomes available.  

Logan sips on his beer and tries to enjoy himself, but he regrets agreeing to come out with his friend tonight. Now that he’s pushing thirty, he really feels like bars with blaring reggaeton aren’t exactly his scene.  

“Logan!” His friend Paul appears, approaching him from the dance floor with two blonde early 20 somethings in tow. Although Paul is in his mid-30s, this bar is exactly his kind of scene. Paul is also an ex-pat. Like Logan, he’s hiding out in Mexico. Logan doesn’t know the details, but he knows Paul’s crime had something to do with a Ponzi scheme.

Paul smiles, “Meet Claudia and her friend Tracy.” Paul is clearly interested in Claudia, the prettier of the two, and is attempting to push Tracy off on Logan so he can get Claudia alone.

Logan takes another sip of his beer and gives Tracy a quick look over. She’s attractive, but she’s trying too hard. She’s wearing too much make-up, and her low cut tight black dress leaves nothing to the imagination.

Paul gives Logan a pleading look, and Logan resists his urge to roll his eyes. He smiles charmingly at Tracy. “Hi. I’m Logan.”

…

..

.

After several more drinks, Tracy manages to lure him out to the dance floor. She grinds against him aggressively, not at all shy about what she’s getting at. He goes with it, it’s not like he’s opposed to a meaningless hook up. It’s all he’s allowed himself, ever since Ellie.

He shakes his head, trying not to think about her. He can’t believe she still has a hold on him, ten years later. Tracy had been facing away from him, grinding her butt against his crotch, but she turns around now, speaking loudly into his ear.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She places a quick kiss to his lips. “Don’t go anywhere.” She says.

He smirks charmingly. “I’ll be here.”

She smiles, kissing him a little more roughly this time before heading off.

Logan tugs on his sweat soaked white shirt. It’s hot in here, and their previous activities did nothing to cool him off. He heads back to the bartender, squeezing through dancing couples on the bar’s dance floor, and orders another beer.

Several people get up from the bar stools near him, heading out of the increasingly busy and crowded bar. With the middle stools clear, Logan spots a woman at the other end of the bar, quickly downing a Tequila Sunrise. “Una mas, por favor.” She orders, her Spanish accent a little off but still understandable. Even though it’s loud in here, he’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s almost like she senses him, because she looks up and her eyes meet his. Those caramel colored eyes, he sees them often in his dreams. Her eyes widen in surprise. He briefly wonders if he’s hallucinating. He looks down at his beer and then back at her, fully expecting her to have disappeared. But she’s still there.

They both head for the other, meeting in the middle.

“Logan, is it really you?” She reaches out, placing a hand on his cheek tentatively.

He pulls her into a hug. “Ellie.” He breathes into her ear, tightening his hold.

…

..

.

He can barely hear himself think inside, so he leads her out to the parking lot. He looks her over again. She’s more beautiful than he remembers. With age, she’s filled out in all the right places. Her dark hair is out of the braid he’s used to, cascading down her back in waves. He really can’t believe she’s here. Could this really be a coincidence? Did she track him down somehow? “What are you doing here Ellie?”

She’s brought her Tequila Sunrise out with her. She takes another sip, and he notices she’s a little unsteady on her feet. “I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon.” She admits.

He doesn’t know why that hurts so bad. This is what he wanted. For her to move on. Find someone better. Have everything she always wanted that he could never give to her.

“Oh, congratulations.” He tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace.

“I said supposed to be.” She repeats. “Well, the honeymoon wasn’t going to be here. Do I seem like a Puerta Vallarta honeymoon girl to you?”

“No. You’re more of a European honeymoon girl.” He responds. Back when he briefly let himself think he was done running, that they could have a real future together, he had dreamed about marrying her. Whisking her off to Italy on their honeymoon, where she would drag him to the Colosseum and point out the architectural features she had learned about in AP Art History.  

She smiles. “Exactly. The honeymoon would have been in Paris. But turns out my fiancé was cheating on me with our coworker. So wedding cancelled and girls trip to Mexico to drink myself silly and forget that I was ever supposed to be Mrs. Ellie Gibson. Riya’s idea, we’re still friends.”

“Your coworker?” He repeats.

She finishes her drink, downing the rest quickly. “Yeah, we work together. The whole office was invited to the wedding. I’m sure all the office water cooler talk revolves around this clusterfuck of a situation. God, how am I supposed to show my face there ever again?”

Her eyes well up with tears. He automatically reaches up to wipe her tears away. “Ellie…” He tries to comfort.

“Logan, don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m dealing. Trent was an asshole anyway. And he was terrible in bed. Looking back, I don’t think I ever even really loved him. I usually thought about you when we were having sex. You don’t do that when you actually love your fiance, right?”

Logan doesn’t know how to respond to that, but Ellie doesn’t seem to want him to say anything anyway.

“I’m going to get another drink. Do you want anything?” She asks. He shakes his head no, and she starts to head back inside. She wobbles, obviously fairly tipsy by this point of the night. He grips her arm to steady her.

“We have a lot to catch up on. Let’s get out of here. I live nearby.” He says. He’s worried about how much she’s drinking, wants to get her away from the bar.

She looks thoughtfully into her empty glass before staring deeply into his blue eyes, looking like she’s weighing her options. “My friends might worry. But then again, they probably expect me to have some kind of drunken Mexican rebound to get over Trent.”

“Ellie, I’m not trying to sleep with you. I want to talk to you.” He explains.

She pouts. “You’re not trying to sleep with me?” She steps into his personal space, trailing a finger down his shirt. “That’s disappointing.”

He gulps, his heart beating faster at her proximity.  “How much have you had to drink tonight?” He asks, hating that his voice comes out sounding shaky, not confident like he wants.

“If I’m not getting any then I might as well go back in and drink more.” She reasons.

“Ellie.” He warns, eyes narrowing as she makes to go back inside. He grips her wrist, keeping her outside with him.

Her free hand reaches up to his face, thumb tracing his lip. “You’ve got something here.” She says, wiping Tracy’s obnoxious glittery pink lip gloss off his bottom lip. Her thumb leaves his lip to trace lightly over his stubble. “This is new. I like it.”  

His eyes dart down to her thumb and then back up to her eyes, not sure what response she’s looking for. “Come back home with me. Please.” He adds at the end, when she looks like she’s going to refuse.  

“Are you driving us back? Haven’t you been drinking?” She asks.

He lets out a relieved breath, good she’s going to cooperate. “No, I live really close by. Right down the beach. We can walk.” He informs her.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not wearing heels.”

He crouches, “Hop on then.” She happily hops onto his back, and his arms hook under her legs as he stands. She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his back and making herself comfortable. He almost stumbles when she starts placing soft kisses the back of his neck.

He quickens his pace back to his small beach hut, needing to put more space in between them. She’s drunk and he’s not going to take advantage of her, but damn is it tempting.

…

..

.

[ketzwrites]

Rewatch 104: Raising Hell

We’re out of the introduction section of season one. By now, the audience (and Clary) should be used to the Shadow World being a thing and have some notion of how the mechanics work. All the basic background has been explained, so now we dive into the plot.

Also, Magnus Bane.

Teaser

Once again, Clary’s worry and love for Simon are used in benefit of exploring male characters and not her. This time, it’s Jace who overhears Clary talking to her best friend and feels jealous. Then, it’s Simon who is bitter over being soft rejected again. Can’t we focus on Clary when talking about her feelings?

Anyway, Simon doesn’t trust Jace, but Clary does. After all, Jace saved their lives. He also put Clary at the mercy of a creepy vampire without her consent or knowledge. But, hey, if Simon can think Camille is hot after she sexually assaulted him, Clary can have the hots for Jace. Equal opportunity.

Clary wants to exchange the Mortal Cup for her mother. She says this after days of everyone she met telling her that Valentine cannot, in any way, shape, or form, put his hands on the Mortal Cup or everyone will suffer. Why am I supposed to root for her? I’m actively rooting against Clary getting the Cup. Very against it if her goal is to give it to Valentine.

That said, Clary and Simon brainstorming works well. Smart kids are smart.

Also, Simon’s hallucinations are creepy by the right amount.

Act One

These little Clace moments are funny to watch. I like that it’s the girl walking into the semi-naked guy and not the other way around.

Oh, yes. Magnus Bane is very powerful. He’s also the High Warlock. Why didn’t you go straight to him again? Also, Jace, being a bitch about Clary’s best friend won’t make her warm up to you, no matter how jealous of Simon you are.

I have some questions: does Jace know that Clary wants to exchange the Mortal Cup for her mother? Does he care? Would he let her do it? Is he using her quest to save her mother to get to the Cup?

“Considering I’m the guy with the weapons, I pretty much get to say what I want.” Jace really has the most atrocious lines.

Too bad nobody asks Simon what freaked him out so much. He was fine just minutes before and now he’s acting like that out of fear. If only someone – okay, he’d only respond to Clary – if Clary had asked him why the sudden attitude change, he might have explained about the hallucination and Jace could’ve explained it’s a side-effect of the blood he drunk.

Magnus is over 300yo (I’m tagging all references on Magnus’ age). He also gets his own introduction – for the benefit of the audience, of course, because nothing justifies the Lightwoods knowing nothing about the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

Just like with the vamps, the show takes this opportunity to talk about warlocks in general: they take payment for services rendered, they are immortal, they- that’s it. All one needs to know. We will get a hint at Warlock Marks in Act Three, though.

Funny how Alec is the only one that ignores Magnus’ bad reputation and treats Magnus as a person, not an irresponsible slut. Izzy thinks Magnus would care more about a party than his people’s safety, Jace is quick to make remarks about Magnus’ love life for Clary’s amusement, and Hodge outright calls Magnus a greedy hedonist. Alec, however, doesn’t think Magnus would go to a party with Valentine out there. He is right: Magnus goes to meet with Clary, someone he cares about.

I’m still not over how ridiculous it is that Valentine’s base is in Chernobyl.  Or how bad these two Seelies are at scouting. They just stood in the middle of the room. I know they are invisible, but come on!

Act Two

Valentine is a blood supremacist. I wanted to make it clear because maybe this on the nose dialogue wasn’t on the nose enough.

Some tension between Luke and Alaric and a reminder that Luke is under surveillance from the mundane police. Cool? I guess we’re dropping the mystery on whether Luke is a good or bad guy then.

This “girls getting dressed” scene is making me wonder: if Jocelyn burned down Clary’s bedroom, where did Clary get the clothes she’s been wearing in the last couple of episodes? Well, at least there is less slut-shaming Izzy’s clothes: Clary actually compliments them.

Again, I don’t understand why Jace acts like Clary will inevitably find a way out of the Institute if he tries to keep her inside. But, alas, Clary gets her first dagger!

Magnus feeds his reputation by acting carelessly but underneath it, he’s not kidding. Too bad he sends Elias out of the protection of the lair; that will lead to the attack on the warlocks when Elias is intercepted and rats them out.

Izzy is finally acting like a real person. No alluring tone, no flimsy little giggles. Just a normal tone of voice and her real personality. Good. Also good is the complicity between Izzy and Alec: how Alec can vent to her and how Izzy cares about him.

Maureen is the cutest. Too bad Simon will break her heart, but at least she gets to live a normal life far away from the Shadow World. Which is the opposite of Simon’s own fate.

Act Three

Clary and Izzy’s friendship is still the gayest. It’s so good to see Clary making an uncomplicated friendship with someone that has her best interest in mind. This is different than her relationship with Jace, which is colored with their attraction to one another, and her antagonist relationship with Alec.

I know it’s easy to dislike Clary for treating Magnus rudely in their first meeting but, as far as she knows, he’s a hedonist asshole who took money in exchange for wiping out her memories. Not exactly someone you’d hug hello. That said, she needs Magnus’ help, so treating him like the dirt she found in her shoes isn’t exactly going to rally him to her side.

Magnus is 100% done with Jace and they’ve been in each other’s presence for ten seconds. That’s the whole relationship in a nutshell at least until half of season 2a.

This Clary/Magnus exchange should’ve been about Clary being the Hero™ and trying to convince Magnus to face Valentine instead of running away from him. She’s supposed to be inspiring Magnus to fight. But it doesn’t work: Magnus and Clary are not in similar positions. He has people under his responsibility, she does not. He has something to lose, she already lost it all.

The Lightwoods are shown as competent fighters again. Well, Alec is. He finishes off the Circle Member with one arrow. Magnus is impressed and aroused.

Another fall out between Alec and Jace. Did venting earlier made Alec stop holding his tongue? Also, once again Clary gives zero fucks about anything that doesn’t concern her. I’ve watched the episode four times now and I still hope Alec will tell Clary “The world doesn’t revolve around you and what you want.” But, instead, he keeps going along with the rogue mission.

Some action! Clary saves the warlock girl. This is going to be important because that’s the reason why Magnus agrees to help Clary later. The bar is really that low.

The Circle Member that Magnus has taken Elias’ Warlock Mark in his collection: that is the same practice that Raphael will tell Izzy about in 213.

This episode is the first time we see Alec smile: first a shy smile with Izzy and now a full grin with Magnus. Alec also shows some vulnerability by stammering and looking confused. Magnus likes it.

Act Four

The use of the little Zoe to show Magnus’ soft side is great because it contrasts with everything we’ve heard about him. His honest worry for her clashes against the depiction we got in Act One. However, it gets overboard when Magnus is highly impressed by Clary saving Zoe. Izzy and Jace were there too. Why does Magnus say Clary is “not like the others” when he has no such praise for them?

This undeserving praise escalates even further when Magnus extends it to Jocelyn: the same woman that founded the Circle and only left it once it hurt the man she was in love with, the same woman that had Clary’s memories stolen, and the same woman that continues to act selfishly her whole life.

I’m having a great time watching Simon this season. It’s good to remember why I used to like him. Once the panic has passed, he tries to get help with the person he trusts: Clary. He’s doing what he can.

Magnus’ attempts at flirting with Alec are hilarious – and Izzy agrees. But don’t look away or you’ll lose Magnus proving once again that he is nothing like his reputation says. He immediately gives Izzy the necklace he risked his life for. Greedy, hm?

Act Five

Magnus using his praise to Clary to make sure Alec knows he’s into guys is priceless.

I’m sorry, Clary not knowing where in a pentagram she should stand is just stupid. There are five of them. The creepy whispers in the background are cool, though.

Curious that the order of the memory-giving goes from Izzy to Clary to Alec, skipping Jace. I wonder who Magnus’ memory would be about. Catarina? Ragnor? Raphael? I think Jace’s would be about Alec but the show might have gone with “nothing” because lol Jace only learns what love is with Clary like that’s not worrisome at all. 

While the scene plays as Alec’s crush on Jace being revealed and Alec understandably reacting badly to being outed, the way it was done is confusing. Clary’s memory is about her mother, Izzy’s is about her brother. The audience has no reason to believe Alec’s memory isn’t about his brother and Parabatai, but it is actually about the guy he likes. Even Jace’s reaction can be read as surprise that someone loves him: we know by now Jace doesn’t believe in love and sees himself as a stray the Lightwoods took in. We need Alec’s reaction to go back and re-read the scene as what it was intended to be. That’s not great writing.

Another thing that doesn’t work is Clary’s twirl and stab. If it is that easy to kill the Memory Demon, either Alec or Izzy should’ve gone for it instead of pathetically grabbing Jace’s arms. Hell, Jace’s arms were free. He could’ve stabbed the Demon himself. In the next act, Jace is going to praise Clary for this as if it was a hard move. It was not and overestimating Clary’s actions makes her unlikable.

But at least this scene has Clary sacrificing her self-interest (her memories) for someone else’s well-being (Jace’s). Personally, I think this would be more interesting if Alec had been the one taken by the demon. We know Clary will save her Love Interest but will she save the guy antagonizing her in every step?

Act Six

A nonny once said Magnus outed Alec by saying that there was nothing to be ashamed of in front of everyone. They are literally in a different room from everybody else when this conversation happens.

Clary constantly wearing makeup is pissing me off. She’s supposed to be getting ready for bed. Why does she have gloss on?

How does the shredded portal work again? Clary can see where Valentine is and he knows it? He can talk to her through it, in fact. So, he could use to see Jocelyn’s house, correct? After all, it was there all along.

[robin-bring-the-snow]

I’ll be back

Chapter 5- Shocked.

(2-3-4)

“Why did you choose this outfit?”Gavin asked while you went to the police station.

“I like the shirt.”you answered, writting a message for your brother.

“Technically she likes the man with a shirt, but..”

“But I like that shirt.”you interrupted Richard before he said too much.

“Why did you take my hoodie?”Gavin asked.

“Because it's the only thing that matched with my jeans.”you answered cold and distant.

“Because it has your smell”Richard answered, you started to stare angrily at him.

Gavin began to laugh and you look at him, his smile is beautiful, the best thing you have seen, and his laugh influenced you, that began to laugh as a idiot.

Why you think this things? You hate him...and that isn’t funny.

“What is so funny?”Richard asked to you. You told him that you explained it after because it was to complicated to explain in a few minutes.

You stayed in the elevator, immediately Gavin approached you and took you by the side. You did not say anything because you did not notice it, because you thought you had lost your balance.

“Leave me now, I’m angry with you.”you stated slowly and angrily, after you realised what he did.

“You lost your balance.”he said looked at you.

“Well leave me fall, don’t it again.”you said acidly

“You’re smiling, why?”you noticed to Richard.

“You are funny, it’s hilarious”he said

You are happy, you feel?

“Amanda will not happy”you said worried about him. Gavin had left you and started to watch the phone.

“Amanda is never happy”Richard said, his LED turned into red

~~~

“It’s a sticky situation Captain Fowler, I have to warn that I will have to deactivate Rk800 and the another android who could or can be deviant, because a new kind of deviance has unfortunately developed.” Elijah said sitting in front of Fowler.

“Fuck you.”Hank and you exclaimed.

“Y/N, you don’t understand, there is a risk in the life of being human.”your brother said.

"I dont care, you can’t turn him off, because he is a people. He is alive.”you talked back

"You are naive."he commented

“Sorry, what?”you asked angry and confuse

“You heard right, you’re native and stupid”Elijah said smiling.

“I’ve 180 QI, I’m more young of you, I know things about you that you do not even know and do you know what? I can disassemble you.”you respond angrily.

He standing up quickly from his chair and faced you, he was slightly taller than me but this did not scare you, he was about to hit me but he did not, because Gavin had taken his wrist and blocked him.

“You can bet higher, you know it sis?”Elijah whispered to you before looking seriously Gavin

“Gavin left him, please you didn’t do this.”you said to him, before Folwer could yell at him. He obeyed and left Elijah’s wrist.

Incredible, he’s listen me, and obey.

“I’m working to new antivirus for the android.”Elijah talked, returning to look at you and the captain.

“Anyway you could be an agent of FBI, remember it.”he said to you at the end when he went out of the office.

“I’m sorry for this dramatic little screen”you apologized to Gavin, Hank and Captain, the last one told that you and Gavin would only deal with cases in which the deviant behaved abnormally.

“Have you really 180 IQ?”Gavin asked when you went out of the Captain’s office.

“Yes, doesn’t seem?”you said a little cold and little angry.

“No....that is I mean, it’s cool”he said smiling at you.

“We should go, there is new case of android behaviour. “Richard announced taking the key of the car. You and Gavin followed him.

The travel to the scene was extremely quiet.

You arrived at the crime scene and you noticed the SWAT pickup truck near the building.

The Captain Allen attempted you with your android.

“The deviant have an hostage, I had my snipers posted on all the surrounding buildings, but he hides and my snipers can not get a view. "he described the situation. Unfortunately you were joined to an android, that in addition to being an excellent detective is also a negotiator, as his previous model, in addiction you have been trained to make a profile, even to manage this kind of situation.

“What do you need?”you asked to Allen, Gavin looked the build and Richard analyzed it and every information.

“You have to force it to move. Only in this way we can save the hostage.”Allen answered.

“Gavin, Richard come with me.”you called over to you. The SWAT helped you and Gavin to wear the bulletproof vest.

“Kamski, 57th floor.”Allen stated.

“Okay, Richard go ahead”you said, indicating the skyscraper

You moved forward into skyscraper, Richard was the first to come in, he is always the first in this type of situation.

“Try to find out the name of the android and send me the information.”you ordered to Richard while you were activating the device.

“Y/N stay behind me”Reed surpassed you and stayed behind Richard.

“What’s wrong Reed, you are afraid that your partner stole your man”you said winking and teasing it at the same time.

“No, I just don’t want Fowler to entrust me with a new human case.”he answered with his arrogant grin.

Typical.

“Can I say something?”Richard demanded before leaving the elevator.

“No.”Gavin and you replayed.

You walked down the corridor until you get to the indoor pool area, where the hostage and the criminal were, Gavin positioned himself behind a bar table a little further, you was advancing as you saw the bodies of some dead androids along with their owners who remained motionless, perhaps lent or terrified.

“Her name is Alyson, her model is WR400, she was sent back to Cyberlife for unquantifiable time. She had accidents caused by mistreatment.”you red the information sent by Richard.

“Okay, now I will approach, do not follow me, wait for my signal."you ordered, Richard nodded.

You started to approach her slowly, not to scare her and above all not to get shot.

“Who are you?”she asked without lost the aim on her target.

“I’m Detective Y/N Kamski. I’m here for you. You don’t do the right thing, Alyson you know?”you said stopped to approach.

“Are you an android? If you are, I will blow his head up”she screamed pointing the gun at a man in his sixties.

“No, I’m not an android, you can see. Now don’t be foolish and let the hostages go, especially what you have under fire.”you said calm.

“No, he has to pay for what he did to me.”she loaded the gun.

“No, listen I know what he did, but you shouldn’t do the same error.”you tried to reason her.

“No, he has to pay!”he screamed again, in the meantime Gavin moved from his position to take aim in order to shoot.

The android noticed him and moved the aim to him, at that moment did not reason, you pulled out the gun and fired a shot straight to the head of the android.

Stress level 100 % critical.

~~

“You saved his life. You should be proud of yourself.”Hank said while drinking the second glass of beer.

“I’m feeling the opposite, because she was alive to.”you sadly said while drinking.

“Where is Connor?”you asked to Hank.

“Where is Richard?”he responded with another question.

“Cyberlife.”you answered while you guzzled the whiskey from your fourth glasses of the night.

You need to forget about the girl that you shot, because you wanted to help but you wanted to save the Gavin life too.

“Fuck no, he is at home. You needed a drink to relax, and I took you there."Hank said.

“I think I’m drunk too much.”you started to notice it after the tenth glass, you could not go home, especially with all that alcohol, your brother would have interrogated you.

“I call Connor, that I go to home too”Hank sitting up and went out of the bar. You paid for his and your drink and came outside.

You did not have to wait long for the car, when you got into the car Connor started with his recommendations about drinking and not getting drunk and Hank started to tell him to buzz off. I asked Connor to take you to Gavin.

“Why not at your home?”Hank mumbled looking at you.

“I don’t want that my brother see me like this”you answered smiling.

When you arrived at Gavin’s flat, you got out of the car and after you thanked Hank for this amazing night, you went into the building.

After some floor you arrived to the flat and rang the bell.

“Oh fuck..”opened Gavin.

“Hi, Gavin.”you greeted him.

“Are you drunk?”he asked and moved to let you enter his apartment.

“No.”you answered and entered in his apartment, he looked at you confused.

“Yes, god Gavin..”you said put a hand on your forehead

"Why did not you go home?" He demanded, sitting on the couch.

“Maybe because I live with my brother and I do not want him to see me like that?”you answered raising your hands with obviousness.

You were about to head for her bedroom, but you stumbled on yourself. Gavin, who had stood up, had managed to get you and keep you from falling.

“Come with me”he said took you and taking you to the bedroom. He started to undress your sweatshirt and then jeans, you let him do it.

He took one of his t-shirt and joggers, you put them on and lay on the bed. He standing up, but when you saw him left you started to feel fear.

“Now you’ll rape me”you said drunked. He stood up and go to the living room

“No. Stay, please.” you prayed him and looked.

“Okay, princess” he accepted confused and lay beside you and you moved close to him.

You fell asleep with him next to him, until you heard him screaming and shaking.

He probably did a nightmare so you stayed more near to him and took his hand.

The next morning you woke up, luckily it was Sunday and that means no work, so you stretched your arms and hit a body, jumped and turned to see who it was.

Gavin Reed.

What the fuck was he doing at your house?

You looked around and after a while you remembered what happened the night before.

“Fuck..”you whispered, getting up from bed. You went to the kitchen to see what Reed had in the fridge, there was not a lot of stuff, just the right, but you decided to opt for some bread with jam and a cup of coffee. You took the coffee maker and started making coffee, both for you and for the colleague. For him, in addition to jam and coffee, you prepared a juice with oranges that were in the fridge.

“Good morning princess.”you heard from the bedroom, you stayed in the kitchen to eat the bread with jam.

“Gavin, move your ass!”you shouted.

You heard him to come to the kitchen, i that moment y/e/c met his grey eyes.

“That night, it was amazing. You and me, in my bed, your body are made for me.”he joked with a smile.

“We didn’t do anything, Gav. I’m 180 IQ, not 90. I’m not stupid”you said serious.

“So, today is your day-off, what do you think to go out with me?”he asked took your hand.

“No”you answered brutally.

He was shocked and you smiled, looking the phone, the day had begun wonderfully.

“Why?”he asked confused.

“Because you don’t love me. You have the Lucky girl” you answered rudely.

“I see your drawing it’s beautiful.”he said watched the glass with the orange juice.

“Thanks so you took you my folder last day.”you said before drank your coffee.

“Yes, I don’t want to tell because the day before I was an asshole. You didn’t feel better and I was heartless.”he said in a guilty tone.

“Gavin Reed apologise to me. Is it my birthday?”you ironically said.

“You didn’t lose your sarcasm.”he said approached to you.

He was quite next to you, your lips was to near, you knew that this is probably caused by the fact that you slept with him and saved his life. You knew it could not be honest, but he kissed you.

You immediately detached yourself as if you had been turned away by the same flame.

“Did You kiss me to try a new lips?”you demanded looking him in his eyes.

“No, I wanted to do last night.”he replayed.

“So I have a chance?”you smiled to him, because you began to feel comfortable with him.

“Okay, I have a chance to amaze me, but not today.”you answered standing up and went to take your clothes. You will leave before the noontime.

You started to feel something for him and and above feel it as him.

[kiraalexander]

So, while Kim’s scene with Paige put me through the wringer, her scene with Jimmy’s the one that really broke my heart. Let’s unpack it and compound the suffering!

We start out at the office, where Jimmy comes in from a day in which, like his car, his powers of persuasion have sputtered and ultimately died. He’s low, he’s small, he’s powerless, and he’s losing money. So his getting Kim out of the office is as much a way of exerting control over a situation as it is an attempt to blow off steam.

As an inveterate McWexler stan, it’s fun to see Jimmy playfully manhandle Kim out of her chair, and to see her play along by letting him, while halfheartedly saying no. We know them both well enough to know that if Kim really couldn’t go out, she would not be going out, and Jimmy wouldn’t fight. But here, they’re taking care of each other: Kim, by letting Jimmy control where she goes and what she does, and Jimmy by taking Kim out of what’s becoming an extremely unhealthy set of working habits. (Whether going out drinking is a healthy way to deal with overwork is open to debate, but it’s certainly a Jimmy way.)

Jimmy takes Kim to the bar where they first rolled Ken Wins. It’s a meaningful place for them both, because it’s where this cycle of their relationship started. But it’s even more meaningful to Jimmy, because that’s the first place where he showed Kim his power, his talent, and his nature. And Kim rose to the occasion by showing power and talent of her own, as well as a willingness to participate and play with him in a way he hasn’t experienced since Marco died. It’s the place where they first became partners, and the first step they took to becoming the ride-or-die legal team we saw in 3x5.

Their conversation is funny and fun, but because they have Jimmy’s PPD hanging over their heads, they can’t act on any of their schemes. So there’s a masturbatory quality to the conversation, which is fine with Kim. But to Jimmy, whose past few days have been defined by a lack of performance, it’s unsatisfying.

So Jimmy sees the rude martini guy, and his mind immediately goes to Chuck. I think specifically it’s a callback to Chuck’s treatment of Ernie while Ernie was caring for him, although martini guy’s behavior is much more strident and over the top than Chuck’s snide comments and microaggressions. It also harkens back to Jimmy’s own treatment of the delivery guy earlier in the episode, especially since Jimmy’s behavior in that instance was very out of character for him. He wants to punish not only Chuck, but the part of himself that went Chuck-ward in a moment of extreme financial stress.

Jimmy begins spinning his scheme, but it quickly devolves into less of a scheme and more of a fantasy - one that becomes disturbingly self-flagellating and sexual. Remember that Kim and Jimmy’s season 2 scams were deliberately nonsexual in nature. They posed as brother and sister, and their scams were all posed as business investments. While it's true that Kim hooked Dale by accepting his drinks and flirting with him, she de-sexualized the situation by calling her "brother" to meet them, and turning the conversation to their "business venture."

Here, though, Jimmy begins the scheme by telling Kim to "make eye contact" with martini guy, and act "interested," so that he'll try to "steal [her] away" from Jimmy. Jimmy then casts himself as a "loser," packing so much bitterness into the word that Kim physically backs away from him. Then he tells her to say to martini guy, "you can't leave me, not yet," but only because in this situation, she's pretending to scam Jimmy.

Jimmy is setting himself up as the drunk rube in what's essentially a (and I'm not going to use the term with more racial/political connotation here) cheating fantasy, pimping Kim out to someone she's not interested in to serve its purpose, and making her declare that her interest in staying with him is a scam she's perpetrating on him. It's echoing his current sense of insecurity and inferiority, not to mention his romantic past, where we know his then-wife cheated on him with Cicero Chet (and possibly his stepdad), prompting the scenario that led him to Albuquerque in the first place.

We can see from Kim's expression and body language that she's incredibly disturbed by Jimmy's scenario. She puts on the breaks, and Jimmy's so lost in this fantasy, he does a double take before coming back to the present. But Kim's already thinking about what the two of them did to Chuck on the stand, and how much it still bothers her. While initially reluctant to turn the conversation to Chuck, when she admits that it's on her mind, Kim is expressing a desire for trust, intimacy, and empathy between Jimmy and herself.

Jimmy, however, shuts her down, telling her to put Chuck "in the rear view mirror," because Chuck deserves everything that happened to him; that he's "not worth thinking about. And this disturbs Kim more, not just because of Jimmy's lack of conscience or concern about what they did to Chuck, but his unwillingness to take care of her by listening to her concerns and discussing them. And this only compounds her sense of the morally repugnant things Jimmy seems increasingly capable of doing, as well as how he's increasingly able to shut himself off from any sense of remorse.

We watch Kim struggle with this (and Rhea Seehorn's acting is just so mind-blowingly excellent here, my god) and then make a decision, not to leave, and not to press, but to actively take care of Jimmy by going back to their game, rewinding their conversation so they can pretend it didn't happen, and that he hasn't hurt her. It doesn't quite work - the fun and humor have gone - but he lets her do it anyway.

So now we have two people who began a night trying to take care of each other, and ending it with Jimmy's demonstration that he's both unable and unwilling to care for Kim in the way she needs. This is due to circumstance, but also due to his anger, fear, self-righteousness and resentment. And it's dawning on Kim as well as us that she's no longer in a sustainable partnership. She can't leave him, not yet... but it may not be much longer before she realizes that not only can she leave, she must.

[engl699readingjournal-blog]

my first month in Berlin was really fucking lonely and pathetic. I had surely by then been tending to a few friendship-seedlings, a few of which ended up as fully realized friendships that I still do not know how I managed to cultivate. these people I would hang out with periodically throughout my first weeks, but I’ve always been one of those people who can’t understand why anyone would want to hang out with me, so when people actually did want to hang out with me I was clunky and awkward and navigated meeting their friends and then their friends-of-friends as if a there’d been whole trading-card set of Berlin scenesters laid out in front of me and someone was just chucking cards at my forehead frisbee-style. most of them I missed, they bounced off my forehead and spun off into the abyss of some Neukölln bar or weird fetish club and I never spoke to them again. there was a lot of that, just these one-off conversations of intense interest followed by a mutual agreement of continued contact followed by nothing. then I’d see them again months later at some event that drew the whole scene, from the bullseye (see: Peaches) on outward to the fringes, the acknowledgment would be nonexistent and if it happened it was weird, the next thing I knew they were a suggested friend on Facebook with fourteen mutual friends. was there anyone who didn’t know everyone else already? did some of these people charge you fifteen Euro for revealing that they recognize you in public?

some of these people, I took entirely too long to realize, had never been interested in being my friend at all. I was apparently stupid enough to forget, or to never know in the first place, that some people only talked to you if they wanted to sleep with you or if they thought you might have connections they could take advantage of. I had nothing to offer in either department. I spent the latter half of my teenage years putting so much effort into being unattractive, never making eye contact, and deflecting That Kind Of Attention that I hadn’t even considered the possibility that no one would know or care about any of that in a new environment. when people watched or smiled at me, I glared. when people asked me questions about my clothes or hair or what I was doing in the city, I gave monosyllabic answers in a flat voice. when people moved close to me, I got up and walked away. when they touched me, I hit them or otherwise raised cain before disappearing. that’s always easy to do when you’re tiny and wear dark clothes. being pursued as an object of sexual interest was not something I planned for because I didn’t pursue other people as objects of sexual interest. I considered myself outside of the dating and sex game and for whatever reason assumed everyone could figure that out immediately.

but they couldn’t, and that produced some awkward-ass situations. via social media I met a filmmaker, American by way of Israel, who made a documentary on William S. Burroughs that I had probably illegally downloaded and watched at least five times. we talked about Burroughs briefly, but ultimately he did not seem interested in talking about Burroughs. see, I was interested in talking about Burroughs. I wanted to know what interviewing Iggy Pop was like. I wanted to know what it was like to talk with John Waters for more than thirty seconds at a book-signing. by chance, we met two days later at a Drag Race viewing party in a bar I never set foot in anymore for different reasons. we recognized each other and he seemed genuinely interested in meeting me – we shook hands, he was drunk, I was probably running off of fruit and quark and an U-Bahn platform vending-machine diet coke. my handshake probably felt like a wet towel and I apologized for that, made some self-deprecating comment about how creepy my hands probably were. within five seconds the conversation was over. the next time I saw him, he was surrounded by an entourage at another club with no shirt on, perfectly sober. by then I knew better than to say hello, but he saw me and said nothing (which I can’t be salty about because I did the exact same thing). it wasn’t until then that I mentioned the earlier encounter to a friend, who said quite simply that he probably was just looking for sex and had lost interest.

I had not thought of this, obviously. what gave him the impression that I was interested in sex to begin with? I wanted to talk Burroughs, and interviewing Patti Smith. I was expressly not interested in what it was like to meet Peter Weller because when Weller brought up Pier Paolo Pasolini in one of his interview segments I think my hairline receded a little bit. at any rate, I was baffled. then I got angry even though I knew that sex would not have been a thing that ever would have happened anyway. what was the problem with me? my giant head and stick body? did my face look more or less cadaverous than in pictures and was that a deal-breaker? was I short, bad-postured, sickly, monotone, behaving strangely, shy, and not an established cosmopolite and freelance artist raising the rents in Kreuzkölln? yes to all of the above. this was one of a few lessons I had on the value of both sexual capital and artistic clout in the Berlin scenester circle. who were you fucking and what kind of art were you making? well, I wasn’t fucking anybody and I wasn’t making any art. luckily I was to make friends who also weren’t fucking anybody and ended up making art with them. they’re the reason I still go back. 

(as a side note, this past April I met John Waters again at a book-signing – I was somewhat far back in the line and Waters had been pounding some brown liquor to get him through the evening. much to my and my friends’ delight, this meant that by the time we got to the table he was so in the mood to chat that the event organizers had to move him along. I brought up this filmmaker and said that I had met him and found him shallow and that the new feature film he had made was distasteful in a number of ways. Waters barely remembered the guy, and when I tried to jog his memory by saying that he’d directed a Burroughs documentary that largely featured Waters’s commentary, Waters responded: ‘oh, god, which one? there’s, like, five of those.’)

I also did some bold shit during my first month in Berlin, before I had people to necessarily call friends and before I realized that many of the people I was corresponding with existed on a plane very different from mine. my usual routine was to wear the same outfit and sit in the corner of a bar drinking a club mate until somebody talked to me, inevitably making a really fatuous comparison to David Bowie or, like, Gary Numan. or Kraftwerk. I moved from bar to bar that way, inciting some interest in people and then eventually leaving the bar and leaving them with no contact information because I wanted to go to bed and my throat was sore from secondhand smoke. this isn’t to say that I didn’t also take interest in people I saw, because I certainly did, but I guess I was prepared to make no attempts at talking to them and had resigned myself to the idea that any friends I would make would come to me. I apparently would have rather existed in complete isolation and misery for seven months than start conversations with strangers.

but sometimes I didn’t just sit in the corners of establishments hoping for friendships to strike up. sometimes I went to the parts of bars and clubs where I had no business being, as a trans person, as a person who looked feminine, as a person existing outside of the sexual market. I would take my drink and plop myself down in the middle of a fuckdungeon or a darkroom and just watch people. I was simultaneously interested in what drove cis gay men to seek out anonymous sex and horrified at the way the floor squelched under my shoes. I lit cigarettes and just held them so I looked more like I had my own purpose there, thinking that somehow let everyone else know that I was exempt from participating in the generally-expected activity but nevertheless allowed to be there. in my head I called this “taking up space” and sometimes accomplished just that. sometimes I sat, I fake-smoked, I drank a coke, I watched a man get spit-roasted in the corner like someone watches Animal Planet. then I would get up and walk out. other times I sat, I fake-smoked, I drank a coke, a fifty-year-old man would walk up to me mouth-breathing and rubbing his junk and I would get up and haul ass out. other times a young man would approach me and say loudly in English that this was a space for gay men to have sex and that I should go back upstairs to the main dance floor and bar instead of staring at everyone and “ruining the vibe,” and I would loudly tell him he was ruining his own vibe by bothering me instead of servicing the glory hole, and I would get up and get brow-beaten out. 

my first month living in Berlin was, much like Isherwood’s descriptors of his early Berlin experiences – Bradshaw’s first Silvester celebration during which he walks in on Mr. Norris being flogged between two women while polishing one’s boots, or his brief glimpse of a shitfaced Baron von Pregnitz having a beer dumped down his throat while pinned on a couch by a “powerful youth in a boxer’s sweater” – the beginning of a series of dreamlike impressions that have been rewritten in my head numerous times. the places I frequent reorient themselves in my mind as soon as I leave Berlin again and I describe them slightly differently to people each time I retell a story. of course, there were times that were not necessarily dreamlike; buying rolls and water at an aldi is not that different in Berlin except that you really have to make sure the bottles are on their sides or they’ll topple over on the conveyor belt. in a way the aldi was a non-space all its own, though, as was the ausländerbehörde, the bürgeramt, the endless stretch of S-Bahn between Nikolassee and Grünewald that was so long and godforsaken that I was convinced all manner of time and molecular structure at its most fundamental had been suspended and no one was breathing. buying a Kinder bar for dinner from a spätkauf at 3AM alone at Görlitzer Bahnhof: did that actually happen? was I ever actually there?

[samcatthorne]

I'm adding Tony now 'cause your answers for Loki & Bucky made me curious

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff (more like a Slytherclaw, tbh. But if I had to pick one, I’d say he falls more under Slytherin, but only slightly.)best quality: He’s the one you go to for a killer party worst quality: Like Loki, that pride and mouth of his will likely get him killed ship them with: Pepper TBD brotp them with: Bruce (SCIENCE BROS!!!), Loki (see Loki’s ask meme for reasons why) needs to stay away from: alcohol, former mentors, the subject of his dad, thinking about his mistakes, missile shrapnel, people who place WAY too much blame on him for collateral damage during battlesmisc. thoughts: Yes. Pepper is crossed off the ship list, and for two reasons.

REASON NUMBER 1: The ending scene of Spiderman: Homecoming where (spoilers) she shows back up after the “break” with Tony that left him feeling empty and depressed at the mere mention of her, immediately scolds Tony for something beyond his control, then kisses him and essentially says “Let’s get engaged to give the press something to obsess over.”

(1 contd.)To be fair, Tony probably should have warned Peter about the upcoming press conference LONG before literally right before it was supposed to happen. Give the kid time to make a decision, think of a speech, or even, ya know, get dressed in the new suit. That way (again, spoilers), when he inevitably says no, Tony can just cancel the press conference instead of having to make up something on the spot. And Civil War did technically take place in 2016, while S:H takes place in 2020, leaving a 4-year gap for the two to get back together and work out their problems.

(1 contd.) Except there are three issues with this: the first is that Tony’s never given a shit about the convenience of the press before and has actually left them straight up hanging in a previous movie, so why should he care enough now to give them something to talk about other than having a convenient way for the writers to throw Pepper back into Tony’s life and anchor her there with a ring? 

(1 contd.) Second is that they’ve had a (very rocky) on-again-off-again relationship since the first movie. The reason Pepper always left was because she never felt like he respected her unless he felt he was going to lose her. And that’s totally within her right. Except she also infantilizes him and is extremely condescending, even toward an--admittedly misguided--attempt at a romantic gesture that is still obviously wholehearted and done with the best of intentions. Tony gives her the run of Stark Industries because he believes she has the will, the drive, and the ability to keep it successful. Yet she yells at him because she “gets blamed for his mistakes,” which had already been happening anyway, since she’d previously been his personal assistant so she was still in charge of his public image and therefore responsible for his fuckups in the eyes of the public.He basically gave her the biggest fucking promotion an employee of a giant corporation like Stark Industries could ever get, and she blames him for this new job--which most likely tripled her salary, maybe even more than that--having the exact same faults has her previous job. She was basically running the company before, Tony just made it official so that she could actually get the credit. As for the strawberries thing, if she had known Tony for that long and actually knew his personality previous to that meeting, she would have known that he was right and that it was actually progress that he remembered there was some sort of connection between her and strawberries. He had paid enough attention to realize there was a connection, but didn’t have the reminder post-”the moment he started actually paying attention” to know what the connection was and so obviously assumed that it was a positive connection because who wouldn’t? She is miserable enough to look for new career opportunities in rival companies in basically all three of the Iron Man movies, but not so miserable as to actually leave. Why? She is aware he has a problem with alcohol, but doesn’t actively discourage him from drinking until he’s already had too much. In Iron Man 2, he gets so drunk he wets himself in the Iron Man suit, so he clearly has a problem, yet by The Avengers, Stark Tower has a fully-stocked bar for casual consumption. She points out his faults when he fucks up, but doesn’t try to help him (or doesn’t try very hard/for very long) to fix his fuckups, even when it’s clear he needs help from someone else--usually someone close to him--to give him the push to fix it. Yet, for all of the dysfunction, for all the yelling and the fighting and the arguing and the anger and the tears and the drunken mishaps and the godforsaken strawberries (yes, I’m fucking salty), she doesn’t leave. If she really gave a damn about him or their relationship, she’d have either gotten help in fixing their relationship (i.e. counseling), or she would have left.

(1 contd.) My third issue is this: if she really loved him, if she really gave a fuck about him, wouldn’t getting fucking married be a bigger deal than a last-minute publicity stunt? And it’s not just a stunt for the sake of the cameras, either. They have a long kiss before going out there, so their renewed relationship is obviously real, not just for the sake of the MCU public. Yet, she has basically no reaction to Tony going, “Hey! Let’s get married!” I’ve been in relationships before. I’ve had romances with various levels of commitment. And in none of them was getting engaged a small matter, even if it was partially for the public. (Yes, I’ve had a mildly similar situation. It’s a long story.) Popping the question is a HUGE FUCKING DEAL in our society. Ladies (and I assume gentlemen as well) are ingrained with the idea that a proposal is a humongous commitment. It’s a promise that isn’t to be taken lightly. But there wasn’t even a pause from Pepper. Yes, I understand she was under a lot of pressure by the press. But a) that should be something she’s used to by now, and b) she wouldn’t even stop to question her years-long on-again-off-again boyfriend offering to propose purely as a last-minute bit for the cameras an emotionally appropriate “WTF”? Where is the reaction? Where is the delight? Shouldn’t she be just a little bit happier that he’s proposing? Or at the very least be a little bit peeved that he’s choosing now of all times to propose? There’s just so much wrong with this scenario that I cannot even comprehend it.

And, finally, REASON NUMBER 2 that Pepper has been crossed off the ship list: I’ve recently started a FrostIron RP with a friend and, while I only ship it in the context of our RP (meaning I don’t really accept it as MCU canon), my inner Loki did get a little salty (read: jelly) that Pepper was kissing Tony.

Yes. I am trash. Deal with it.

(also, Emma, please don’t hate me. I know they’re an MCU OTP of yours. >.

[keepingcalmisoverratedgoddamnit]

So... I had a mental weekend

Ok, so here's the thing, this is going to be reeeeeally long so if you're not interested in reading a #Georgia Speaks post about my weekend full of panic attacks, good friends and shitty recovery time then scroll past now cause shit's about to go down. Otherwise feel free to...

As a part of my therapy, I'm supposed to be exposing myself to things that make me anxious to try and desensitise myself. I put my self in places and situations that are gradually more and more anxiety inducing and ride the wave. By doing this we can try to normalise the amount of anxiety we feel in specific situations and bring it down to a healthier level.

So when my friend Shane asked me to go to his 21st birthday party I said yes. the main reason I decided to go is because I hadn’t seen Shane in ages and the other part of it was that I had to reason with myself that I shouldn’t back out no matter how anxious I became because this was what I was supposed to be doing right? Riding the wave? And I was anxious. I was terrified before I even left the house. I layered a full face of makeup onto my face like a shield. My heart raced as I downed some panadol to ease the grinding pain in my joints and continued to hammer as I sat in the Uber and headed over to the house. A house I knew was full of people I didn’t know or barely knew. When I got there it took me ages to scrum up the courage to go inside. I even had to do a breathing reset and an anchoring exercise. Then I headed  in and immediately searched out Shane who said hello and promptly abandoned me at a table with some friends of his that I didn’t know at all. I managed a bit of small talk and some friends I hadn’t seen in a while stopped to talk. Things were going fairly well. I wasn’t comfortable but I wasn’t panicking either. I was determined not to ruin Shane’s party with my neurosis.

Then, true to form, Gerard happened. He is notorious for being a pressuring pain in the ass. You know all the ‘peer pressure’ that people warned you about in high school? Gerard is the embodiment of all of it! He asked me if I’d had a drink yet. I said no and he immediately started up.

“Why not?”

“You should have a couple of drinks with us?”

“Come oooon!”

And then, without asking for my input or permission,

“Trina! Take Georgia over to the bar! Get her a drink!”

Now I had a drink. It wasn’t so bad. sure my heart was racing and my shoulders had that cold-numb feeling I get when I’m close to panic but I was talking more once I’d had a drink and I wasn’t sounding so stilted and awkward. I caught up with Shane’s sister Anna, a good friend of mine. I even asked her to grab me a Corona when she went and got hers from the bar. I was feeling good, right?

A little later Anna and I got to talking. We ducked away around the corner so we could talk a little in private (aka Anna asked me to talk her up to her new BF cause she really really likes him.) Then she starts. She’s missed me and she’s sorry she hasn’t called or anything (she’s three sheets to the wind at this point, absolutely plastered) and she really does love me. Then she starts carrying on, I don’t even remember how she got on the topic, about how wonderful I am and how good and beautiful and I just can’t. My neck and shoulders feel like someone has dumped ice water over me. I keep telling her to stop saying these things but its too late, I’m gone. I don’t know how long I choked on screams and dragged shallow, too-fast breaths into my aching chest. At some point I fell to the ground and Anna propped me up so I was sitting against the wall while I spiralled. I was being so selfish, so dramatic, I want this to stop! Why couldn’t I be normal?! At first I didn’t realise I’d been talking till I realised that Anna wasn’t just murmuring nonsense she was answering me, that she was desperately trying to get me to tell her what I needed to help me calm down. I grabbed at her and got a fistful of her collarbone which must have hurt like hell but she didn’t flinch, just grabbed a gentle hold of my wrist and tried to get me to match her breathing. It was working but it wasn’t enough. I don’t know how long it was before I managed to choke out that I needed counts of three between breaths or how much longer before I could add that I needed to breathe all the way out. I needed an anchor and I knew it so I dragged Anna down till she was sitting on my legs. She was heavy and bony and perfect! It drew all my attention to the physical weight on my body and somehow I dragged my brain into a body scan. In the distance I could hear Anna still talking, “Breathe in Georgia, no hold for three, one, two, three, ok, out now can you count how long it is? Good, no hold it for three remember? One, two, three, ok, breathe in with me, good...” over and over and on and on it went.

As I calmed down and came back to myself I became aware that I had been smacking my head against the brick wall behind me, my makeup is a disaster and my hair is a birds nest. I don’t want to go back out there, I can’t. But I’m fine, it’s Shane’s birthday, I have to go back out. Nothing happened. I’m fine. See? Out I go. Anna finds me a brush and I fix my hair and use the bathroom mirror to fix my lipstick while Anna has a wee. I feel a bit better with my hair fixed and I make the decision not to drink another drop that night, I’ve only had two drinks and I can’t really feel the usual effects of the alcohol in my system yet but obviously it’s been enough to lower my guard and loosen my control on my anxiety so no more. I’m off tap, water only for me.

I was ok for a little while, mostly, by my standard anyway. I talked with Shane’s girlfriend for a bit, forced some food into myself, talked to Shane’s other sister. Fine, see?

Then Shane felt the need to apologise for Anna hitting on me (It’s a thing she does, boosts my ego but she never pushes too far) and for her upsetting me. Cue the start of attack number two. I try to explain that it wasn’t Anna’s fault, all she had done was compliment me, tell me how much she valued my friendship, and I’d been unable to process it. She hadn’t done anything wrong, in fact, she’d coped surprisingly well with a massive meltdown. I was really sorry, oops, I said that out loud and Shane suddenly became laser focused. He dragged me around another corner and I was gone again. I now know that I say every thing that goes through my head as I panic because once again I was apologising and saying how sorry I was and how this was supposed to be his night and here I was causing a stupid scene like the stupid shit I am and Shane was answering and telling me it was so much bullshit. When I finally got my shit together yet again, (Shane has talked me through before so this one was shorter) I felt guilty as hell. I couldn’t hold my shit together for a single fucking night! I should have known better than to drink! Nothing ever goes well if I drink when I’m anxious.

More time passed and I drank more water but now I felt like a piece of shit. I had run out of energy and I wanted to go home but Cass and Shane were going to sing so I stayed to support them and cheer when they finished. But then a jam session started up. I wanted so badly to join in, so so badly. But I’ve lost so much confidence that I just couldn’t do it. I sat and watched for a while before I couldn’t stand it anymore. I took off inside and walked myself through calming down, this one only lasted a little while, I caught it before it blew up. Gerard came into the hall where I was hiding and asked if I was ok, I thought about lying and saying I was fine. I said no. I think I apologised to Shane and Gerard and Lorraine all at different times for losing my shit so many times.

Gerard tried to get me to go out and sing a song, I couldn’t. Don’t. Was all I could choke out as attack four? Set in. Lorraine came to my rescue and redirected the conversation.

When I finally caved and decided to head home I did the rounds and went and said goodbye to everyone. Then I stopped to talk to Lorraine while I called an Uber and waited for it to pull up. Then she did it.

For the first time that night, someone acknowledged how much it took for me to turn up that night. 

“I know how hard it was for you,” she said “I know how much you went through tonight just to be here for Shane, so thank you. Thank you, thank you so much for coming tonight.”

She was drunk out of her mind and swaying on her feet and she still had the ability to articulate such a simple acknowledgement and thanks for a complicated issue without making me feel broken or small. In that moment it was totally worth all the tears. Lorraine SAW me. She walked me out and waited with me for the Uber till she was called in for photos.

By the time I got home and took my pill for the pain in my joints, it was 1:30am and I was wrung out and exhausted but at the same time, wired from the panic attacks. Sleep did not come easy.

The next day provided no relief. We had my niece all morning. We got a break in the middle of the day and watched some telly and then we had her again overnight.

Monday came and went flat chat till suddenly it was Tuesday and silence finally reigned. I was still in a post panic haze. I still hadn’t processed. I planned a bunch of things to do in an attempt to motivate myself. It didn’t work. I ended up spending most of the day watching Sense8 and doing general cleaning round the house, but I WALKED! 3 K’S! and I STRETCHED!

Today came and still I’m in the fog. I was out most of the day but I did finally put my application in to UWS for the BA degree. My life is changing and I’m not sure how to adapt without crashing the plane. I have hardly slept the last five days but I’ve over slept every morning...

I am going to actively practice my mindfulness tomorrow and try to re-centre myself before this gets any worse. I’ll try and remember to post about it and let you guys know how it goes.

[kittensjonsa]

One Night (Part 1)

I’ve been reading a whole f*** lot of smutty Jonsa fics from the awesome Jonsa fandom and it’s SO GOOD I tell ya. And I just can’t get the image of Kit and Sophie getting it on in my head as Jon and Sansa. So here’s a bit of the dream I had watching them both have sexy times. I shit you not, I really did have the dream of them. That’s how much of a Jonsa trash I am. Of course I’m adding a “relatable” story scene to it. It’s a little long, in two parts, sorry I’m a sucker for details! Smut ahead and I hope my smut writing has improved now that I’m gonna use all the tips some of you gave me. I hope to make you proud 😆 Thanks guyyss! ***********

It was past one in the morning when Jon and Sansa came tumbling in through the front door. Well, more like Sansa trying to hobble in with her pump heel broken, from shaking her booty and shimmying to her favourite jam that night at the club. And Jon was there to catch her when her pumps got caught on some gum stuck on the podium floor.

“Shit! Sansa! Are you all right?” Jon tumbled along with her as he tried to catch her and landed on top of her.

Sansa caught a whiff of Jon’s manly cologne mixed with his scent and unconsciously inhaled it deeply. He smelled like sex. Fuck. The kind of scent she would lick all over, dip her fingers in and eat all of it up. He smelled of cigarettes too but that was just from the club. Feeling him moving clumsily on top of her, Jon’s thighs brushed against hers and Sansa felt a stirring in her loins. She almost let out a moan. Damn, it was just not her night tonight. Looking at her cousin as a fuck toy was the last thing on her mind. She wasn’t quite drunk as an excuse for attempting something stupid and far too sober to forget doing anything embarrassing. Caught in the middle and it was the worst. She thought bumping into someone at the club would help scratch her itch but after that embarrassing face-meet-floor moment, she would probably stay away from there for at least a year.

The day wasn’t hers to begin with. She left her car keys in her gym locker when she happily decided to walk back home from spin class. She almost spilled her juice when the cute barista from her favourite cafe flashed his toothy grin. And then Margaery cancelled on their girls’ night out, which Sansa had planned a week before. Damn you, influenza.

And then Jon decided to join her since he was at home, appearing tired of waiting for Robb to finish his shift. He claimed they both had to finish off LegendGamer27 to reach their target level. And Robb was supposed to finish his shift early at the sports store both of them were working at. Or something. Whatever it was, Sansa tuned out the moment she heard him say ‘LegendGamer27’. Boys.

Sansa giggled as she recalled what a day it had been. And now there she was, broken heel, half drunk half sober, ridiculously horny and falling on her butt in front of her cousin who tried to break her fall, only to fall down himself. Muscle and sex on two legs right on top of her. What could she do but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Jon got up and looked at her puzzled. Sansa erupted in a howl of laughter as she watched Jon’s confused face wondering if she had taken a hard knock to her head. Jon couldn’t help but chuckle. Sansa always had an infectious roaring kind of laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you find this funny dear cousin,” Jon said as he held out his hand to help her up. Sansa kicked off her ruined heels. They weren’t expensive so she would toss them out tomorrow in the trash. Now her feet were hungry for the soft carpeted floor. And her body too, maybe she would just lie down there and be done with the night. The day had been exhausting.

Sansa reluctantly grabbed Jon’s hand and raised herself up. She felt a shiver as Jon’s hands seized her waist as she got up shakily, her legs were slightly jelly, probably from the spin class earlier. Jon must have thought she was a lightweight. Three drinks in and here she was putty in his arms. Sansa smiled a little when she realised that maybe that would help boost Jon’s ego a bit. She had never seen Jon with a girl and last she overheard Robb talking with him about dating, he didn’t seem to have much of input nor clue as to how to approach women. Despite his dark and handsome features, Jon was painfully shy, a soft spoken gentleman who kept to himself mostly. He worked and studied part time and some evenings he would go to the martial arts studio to work out. He seemed easy going enough around Robb and her, visiting them rather frequently at first and then eventually moving in with Robb and Sansa after deciding they needed a flatmate to share a bigger apartment downtown.

It seemed nice to have family around, the apartment bustled daily although Robb was often out, working a lot and had an active social life. It was always Jon and her at home having dinner, Jon and her at the park, Jon and her at the breakfast table and Jon and her watching a TV movie, sharing a bowl of popcorn.

Jon felt almost like a brother to her but his dark eyes and broody demeanor wasn’t something very Stark-like. Jon inherited his dark Stark looks from her Aunt Lyanna but it stopped there. Sansa remembered her complaining to her mother that she sometimes worried that her one and only son wasn’t getting out and meeting people. Uncle Rhaegar was smiley and all kinds of sunshine and enjoyed whistling and singing, so both of Jon’s parents had no idea where his moodiness and quiet intensity came from. Both of them were perfectly relieved when Jon wanted to move out to the city to stay with his cousins, hoping Robb’s charm and Sansa bubbly personality would rub off on him. It’s been two years and Sansa didn’t think it worked. But it was nice having someone to come home to, she had to admit.

“Ugh, Jon you would not believe the day I’ve had, my heel breaking was just symbolic. I think it just sort of gave out. Just not my day, not my night tonight,” Sansa shrugged as she skipped to the fridge, opening a bottle of beer and grabbed one for Jon. Jon smiled in thanks and gulped half of his beer down.

“So tell me, can’t be that bad?”

Sansa sniggered and nodded. She told him of the lousy turn of events that day and even Jon couldn’t resist giggling at her expense. Sansa couldn’t shake off Jon’s gaze at her as she recounted her story but dismissed it. She didn’t get to flirt with any guys at the club earlier so she was probably feeling slightly starved for attention. She blamed her hormones for the spike in her libido. Trust good ol’ ovulation to get her engines revving. Plus, Jon had quite the stare, with his dark eyes and dark curls. He seemed to look right into her, seeing through to her right down to her needs. It made her blush a little.

“So yeah, I’m not really drunk to forget all of that happened and I’m too sober that I’m just cringing at all of it. I just found it funny that’s all. So.. Tell me, see anyone you like at the club? It’s pretty cool huh?” Sansa asked, leaning forward against the kitchen island countertop. Jon leaned forward opposite of her, his forehead creasing, jokingly trying to recall if he had met any. He wasn’t much of a clubbing guy, he’d pick bars any day any time. The girls he’d seen hang out at bars were just as pretty.

“Oh come on Jon! There had to be at least one that caught your eye? I saw loads of chicks I think you would totally go for!” Sansa tapped his forearm playfully as Jon smiled shyly, taking a last gulp of his beer.

“Yeah, there was one. She was absolutely hot, adorable too. Danced like no one was watching. She caught my eye.”

Sansa grinned triumphantly. Finally, the light has come upon the Targaryen household! There was hope yet. Jon was smiling at her but there was something in his voice and eyes that seemed curious to her.

“I would totally go for her. But… I didn’t think she would go for me though,” Jon continued, his eyes and hands focused on playing with his empty bottle.

“Why not? You’re hot, she’s hot why the fuck not? Wait, was I in the way? Oh my God, I’m so sorry if I spoiled tonight! Damn those shoes! I didn’t mean to I swear,” Sansa gasped, believing that perhaps she may have unwittingly ruined Jon’s one shot at his true love at first sight meeting. She really had to stop watching Hallmark movies on weekends.

“Yeah maybe. But don’t worry about it. So… You think I’m hot?”

The question took Sansa by surprise. Sansa took a sip of her beer, her eyes didn’t move from Jon’s face as she tried to read him. Jon’s expression was softer now, she had never seen the puppy eyed look on him before. It was slightly unsettling in the most adorable way.

“Yeah you are. I’m not blind you know. You mean you don’t have girls following you home, trying to get your attention and throwing their panties at you?”

Jon laughed, amused by Sansa’s bewildered expression, certainly glad that she found him attractive by her standards.

“Panties no thank God. But no Sans, no one has ever told me I’m hot. You’re the first.”

It was Sansa’s turn now to gaze at this fine specimen of a man. How any female in her right mind not give any notice to this wonderful, kind and generous soul was beyond her. Sure he was moody and quiet but that was just how he looked. Moody resting face, but a teddy bear underneath, Margaery once described Jon. Sansa put her bottle away and took Jon’s hands in hers. Sansa let out a deep sigh and stared into Jon’s deep gray eyes. He was mesmerising.

“Jon, I really hope you find someone who’ll make you happy. Whoever she is, she is one heck of a lucky woman ‘cause believe me when I say you’re a catch. Not just because you’re my cousin. You’re wonderful and kind. Brave and gentle. And generous and always there when Robb and I needed you. Believe me all that is found under the category of ‘males who are hot as fuck’.”

Jon felt his cheeks blush an angry red as he heard Sansa said ‘fuck’ with her full lips and those pretty blue eyes gazing into his. All it took was Sansa’s sparkling blue eyed smile for him to cup her face in his hands and land a wet and urgent kiss on her lips. He held on to her mouth as long as she would let him. He didn’t care what she thought of him afterwards. He saw the opportunity, he took it. Jon felt Sansa pull away, her face in a slight frown. Jon was ready to be kicked out if it came to it. Her soft lips were worth it.

Sansa absent-mindedly thumbed her lips and looked at Jon again, this time her expression displayed some clarity. The girl he was talking about was her. Sansa thought of all the times they spent together, at home, those times when they hung out. Damn, even tonight he was with her. At a club, where she originally had plans to go out and find someone to fuck and probably leave Jon to go home by himself. She cringed slightly, sure that he knew her reasons for heading out tonight.

Did she miss out on the cues he had given her? The time she was locked out of the house and couldn’t reach Robb and called him instead to try her luck, and who rushed down ten mins after, even though he was smack in the middle of class? She had in her mind to kill time and wait at the cafe where that cute barista guy was working. Even her own brother couldn’t be bothered and texted her back to sit her sorry ass down and wait for him till he finished work and come home.

“Jon… ” Sansa only managed to breathe out his name as she tried to connect the dots. Jon looked down in embarrassment and shame. This was it. He made a mental note to call his friend Sam first thing in the morning and see if he could crash at his place for the time being.

“How long? How long that you… You felt this way? Was that girl….. Me that you were talking about?”

“Sans, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I’ll leave tomorrow morning if you want me to. I swear I will. And to answer your question… Yeah. It’s been 3 years, Sansa. Ever since you and Robb moved and I came over to visit. I really enjoyed coming to see you and Robb and then…. It just became just you and me and I sort of liked it. Then when you guys asked me to move in, I was ecstatic and I don’t know… We just sort of spent a lot of time together, you and me, doing stuff together that I didn’t think any girl like you would want to do with me… And when I don’t see you I miss you badly. So bad that it hurts. So yea… I think I’m in love with you.”

Jon ran a hand through his dark curls nervously, he had the words at the tip of his tongue for a long while, he wasn’t surprised that it sounded better than expected. But obviously it was Sansa’s reaction that worried him the most. He didn’t dare look at Sansa in the eye, for fear that he would pounce on her, especially in that black lace dress, that resembled sexy lingerie, the thin straps seductively slipping off her pale shoulders, her slight cleavage beckoning to him. Or she could slap him. She would probably slap him. Jon winced at the thought.

“Oh Jon… How could I-”

“Sansa, I know this must be weird to you, seeing we’re cousins and all… But I can’t help it. I love you and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve been holding it together for 3 years and seeing you tonight… In that dress. I hate to think of you with someone else tonight. I couldn’t let you go off with some other guy when it could’ve been me. It’s gotten that far, Sansa. I know this may never go anywhere but I just needed you to know… I’ll call Sam tomorrow,” Jon continued, interrupting Sansa before she had the chance to reject him. Sansa was perfect in every way. Cousins or not, the heart wants what the heart wants. And his heart was utterly consumed by his feelings for Sansa. She was all he thought about day and night. He couldn’t call himself a man if he didn’t make his feelings known to her.

“Where… Do you want this…. To go, Jon? ”

Jon’s eyes shot up at Sansa’s as her voice, now low and breathy, drew his attention away from his self pity. Sansa eyes searched his for answers. She felt her itch grow stronger and felt herself feeling warmer. Her dry spell was getting too much. Or had Jon been looking this fantastic all these while that she had been too busy toying with other men’s attention to even notice. It had been an eventful night so far and Jon’s confession just made it a night to remember.

There was a fondness for Jon, a soft spot she had for him, which she realised only now. Growing up, they weren’t very close, he was just the quiet cousin who came to visit with Aunt Lyanna’s during summer and the holidays, who listened to Robb gab all day and played hide and seek with Arya, Bran and Rickon. Sansa didn’t think too much about it, she had her life mapped out, planning what to do and where to go, where she wanted to live, whom she wanted to marry. Sansa liked certainties. Gray areas weren’t something she was good with. And with him, now hopelessly in love with her, a man she had gotten to know as a grown woman, whose qualities were unmatched by her previous past loves. He was a true gem in her eyes. A rare find amongst a sea of trash and disappointment. And here he was pouring his heart out to her. Sansa’s own heart melted at the thought. What a big gray spot she was in now. Sure it would seem weird but it wasn’t wrong. Society had set the rules by which they unconsciously lived by. Cousin relations were common, more so before her time when she learned of one or two from her own Stark family lineage branching from cousin marriages. Sansa vision blurred as she snapped out of her daze. Marriage was something none of her past boyfriends she could see with. And now Jon S Targaryen, her cousin suddenly gave her that vision as clear as day. What had come over her? What was it in the drinks she had? Or was it that Jon had willingly and unconditionally offered her something she had always craved for? Whatever it was she had to stop over thinking it. What the heart says and acts on, is best left to the heart to decide, she figured. And it felt right somehow. “I need to lie down,” Sansa decided it was time to retreat into the comfort of her own room. The heat in her was growing strong. Perhaps from her hormones, or maybe from the slight buzz from the drinks but Jon’s lips on hers and hearing him utter those words made her dizzy. Jon felt something died in him as Sansa slowly stepped away from him. Jon shut his eyes, wanting to kick himself for doing what he did. Brave or not, it was foolish. All he felt coming on were tears in his eyes. Sansa’s mind was against it, legitimately for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t a strong contender for the flutters her heart made. And neither was there guilt nor shame attached to it. The night was not done and maybe she could have a great one yet. No harm in that. If only Jon was willing. She would try. It would take some explaining to Robb later in the morning, perhaps. “So… Are you coming?” ************* Thanks for reading!

[courttakestampa]

the first date.

if it’s something serious // then hit me up

I anxiously stood for my uber outside of my gated apartment. I was ubering to a bar near Robbie’s apartment, called the District Tavern. My apartment doesn’t necessarily have the best bar scene, and because he lived closer to Ybor, it seemed like the right move.

Of course we got lost. And my driver didn’t speak English very well. I attempted to direct him to the bar to the best of my ability with my broken Spanish, but in all honesty, I had no clue of where I was to go. Eventually, I gave up and told him to leave me at an intersection that Robbie said the bar was by. I wasn’t nervous about being left there; Channelside is one of the safer areas of Tampa. I was more anxious about my impending first date. It was already off to a rough start.

I texted Robbie my surroundings and then he called me. His voice was kind, but also raspy. It was the kind of voice you’d expect someone to have upon awakening. He finally figured out where I was and started to walk towards me. He was tall and looked neat in his crisp black shirt and jeans. And he looked just like the pictures on his Hinge profile. Thank God. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

We went to the bar and he ordered me a Tito’s and soda; he surprisingly remembered my drink of choice from out prior conversations; impressive. He ordered a Jai Ali, a local craft beer, and encouraged me to try it. “If you like it, you can drink the rest of it; I’ll have your rail.”

Our conversations started out slow and were not what I was expecting them to be. Our texts flowed so easily that I thought our in person connection would work the same way. We talked a lot about our jobs, TGH, moving to Tampa from the midwest and our families back home. It started to storm outside. “I hope you’re not scared of the rain,” he chuckled as we walked outside to the trolley to Ybor.

Rain was an understatement. It was a torrential downpour. We ran across the street to avoid getting hit by cars, but one of my sandals got stuck in the street and I had to run back and get it. “I’m impressed,” he said as he slipped a $5 into the machine to pay for our tickets.

We got on the trolley and went to Ybor’s Gametime, which is essentially a Dave and Buster’s. We ordered some other craft beer that I forget the name of, and started to chat with the bar tender about sports. “She knows more about football, hockey, you name it, then you’d think,” Robbie boasted to him. I then argued with the bartender about why Nick Saban was a traitor and he poured me a pint on the house for giving him a good laugh.

Robbie and I then went to go play some of the games. He was particularly interested in playing the basketball one, which I later learned was because one of his sisters played at a D3 school and his dad is an active coach in Ohio. He then proceeded to beat me in everything, the pong challenge, air hockey, you name it. We then proceeded to trade all of our ticket winnings in for candy. My competitive nature wouldn’t back down though. “Let’s see if you can play pool,” he smiled as we walked back towards the bar.

I’m terrible at pool. Terrible. So bad it’s not even funny. He was patient with me though, and showed me the proper positions and techniques. I decided that because this was a special occasion for me pool wise, that it would be a good idea to steal the 8 ball. Ybor City Gametime, if you see this, I apologize, but also I’m not :/

We then went to the Reservoir, a steam punk themed dive bar nearby. We laughed the whole way there and kissed in the street like two sloppy teenagers. We played foosball there, which I also lost, while drinking a nasty PBR. I was pretty out of it at this point, but I still thought it was a good idea to play drunk Jenga at his apartment. Which yes, it lead to a sleepover and yes, it turned out perfectly okay. This normally would never be my MO normally, but this time it just felt right.

The next morning, or same morning rather, I puked all over his bathroom. As in projectile vomit. I thought I was going to get kicked out; so much for a great date, right? He laughed it off as I offered to clean it up and offered for us to get coffee and breakfast instead. I know my digestive tract wasn’t going to keep anything down, so I just ordered a green tea hoping I’d feel better. He got a damn breakfast sandwich on a blueberry bagel. The nerve of that kid, I swear. “I wanna show you something,” he said as he grabbed my hand and took me around the corner.

It was a dog park. With little tables right nearby. Essentially a little slice of heaven for me. We sipped our drinks and he ate his sandwich as we talked his upcoming trips to Canada and Ohio and how he was going jetskiing later that day. He invited me to go, but I kindly rejected the offer as I was so hungover I was going to vomit on him most likely.

“Want me to take you home? Don’t want the Uber to get lost again.” I laughed as we went into the parking structure of his apartment. His black jeep shined despite its recent trip to St. Augustine. We drove back to my place and we noticed a big box on my porch. “Must be my barstools,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Not sure if I’ll be able to put them together correctly.”

“I’ll do it.” He opened the box carefully to reveal the barstools wrapped in kitten paper (Amazon sellers are WEIRD sometimes, man). He put them together easily and we said our goodbyes. “Will I get to see you soon?” he asked as he kissed me and wrapped me in an embrace. See me again? I though he’d NEVER want to see me again after destroying his bathroom with the remnants of last night’s drinks and candy binge. I laughed again and said of course, and he left.